Dignity

As those of you who've read my profile blurb know, I'm a wedding officiant. Those of you that haven't read it, go 'head. We'll wait. {humming the "Saving Grace" theme. Seriously great song.} You back? Okay.

Today I got a call for my services. A local alterations/tuxedo place has some of my cards, and this lady, whose name is Brandon, interestingly enough, picked one up. I sensed some hesitancy right away. That's not too unusual. For most brides, this is the first time that they have done anything like this, and they aren't sure what they should be asking, or need to know. I try to gently lead them into the information we both need.

But that wasn't the reason for this bride's hesitancy, although there were several. First, she's Catholic, from a big Italian family. Her fiance is a WASP, and they don't want to wait a year for him to convert to be married in the Church. So while they want a wedding expressing faith, there's a bit of a line to walk. Not a problem. Many of my couples are of mixed, little or no faith whatsoever. I reassure her on this point.

She tells me that many ministers want them to join their church before they'll do a service. Ludicrous, to my mind; being forced to join a congregation is hardly a recipe for a meaningful religious experience. Others won't do an outdoor wedding - I've done more outside than in.

I learned long ago that when someone has an objection to something you're trying to sell, or win them over to, that the third objection or problem is the real one. And so it was. Brandon opens with, "I'll be honest with you; we've talked to another non-denominational minister." Okay. I have a pretty good idea who that is, there aren't many around here, and more about her shortly. Brandon continued, telling me that the minister wasn't happy with them doing their own vows in addition to the traditional ones, and I haven't any problems with that, as long as they are respectful. I don't care if they provoke laughter, you understand, just not be rude. The bride assures me they'll be in good taste.

Then the kicker. Brandon has an autistic son whom she wants to be the ring-bearer. The other minister said she wouldn't be responsible for that, that Brandon would have to provide someone to walk with him down the aisle so that, and I quote, "...he won't freak out."

Do I need to tell you that said minister lost this service? Whether I get it or not (her phone was dying and she'll need to call me back), there is no way in Hades this couple would hire her. This mother is mortally offended and well she should be. Her son is used to her family, and she is surely the best judge of whether or not he is capable of being her ring-bearer. It's just outrageous that this minister had the nerve to say this.

I'm not surprised, though. I've sadly heard way too many stories about her. A DJ with whom we've worked many times told me the first. He was doing a wedding, and the bride is frantic because it's past time for the service to start and the minister is not there. When she finally does arrive, she insists on the remainder of her payment being made upfront before she'll start the service, stressing the bride even more, and disrupting everything.

Now, I'm all about getting the green upfront, doncha know? But I do it no later than a week before the wedding so it's one less thing to worry about for the bride and groom. I certainly wouldn't hold up a service for which I were late (has never happened, btw) to demand payment. After all, the marriage isn't legal till the minister signs the license, and if you're worried about payment, you just wait to do that part till you're paid. No muss, no fuss. This minister also touts her 'counseling' the couple. I don't believe in counseling a couple; most ministers have little to no psychology training (I do and still don't force-feed counseling on them) and most couples resent the imposition. But I've been twice told that her much-vaunted counseling consists of a five-minute meeting to get the contract signed and get a deposit...at least once in a McDonalds!

Of course, I cannot tell brides any of this without looking bad myself. But I'm furious for Brandon's sake, and for my own. This woman is giving those of us that really care about making the day all the bride dreams of a bad name. And no one has the right to rob a child of being a part of his mother's wedding day, even if it might require a bit more effort.

A minister shouldn't just behave with at least a modicum of dignity. She should make sure she accords it to everyone else, too.

Fun with Photos

In one of our latest marketing campaigns, we've been sending a mailer to Realtors, attorneys and the like, suggesting that they "upgrade your image!" The impetus behind this was driving past some truly appalling photographs on billboards. People trying to tout their services as bankers who look as green as the money they refuse to loan out. Women leering out with lipstick on their teeth in their '80s hairstyles telling us to join their churches....they need to pray for a new haircut.

Two of the biggest marketing boo-boos are not marketing when times are tough, and using such an old image that, when people actually meet you, causes them to wonder aloud when you became the Crypt Keeper. Vanity is all well and good. It keeps a lot of people employed in the cosmetic industries. But you have GOT to keep that in the framework of a) age-appropriateness; b) reality of what God gave you; and c) "damn, girlfr'en'!" (or boyfriend; men are certainly no strangers to vanity!)

We had a really nice lady in here today. Dawn sells insurance, and actually was one of the billboard images at which we shuddered. Not that we told her that. LOL She's a nice-looking lady of a certain age - I love that French phrase, so tactful, so not me - and she has some sun damage from a youth misspent in the sun of Florida. Repeat after me, "Sunscreen is our friend." But she didn't know that then, and she wanted some issues fixed. Well, hell, so would I if my image were going to be twenty feet tall!

Here's the original image.

You can see some issues here, some simple, some, not so much. For one, as you look at the image, her right eyelid droops more than the left. I sympathize; I inherited the same characteristic from my Dad, and it's more pronounced when I'm tired. She wanted that evened out if I could. Ha!...if I could, puh-leeze.

Next, her skin tone is uneven, and on her chest, badly freckled from the sun exposure. She's self-conscious about that. And although she didn't point it out, her hair highlights have grown out some, and it's fairly noticeable on the left of the picture. I decided to give her a touch-up on them.

And of course, she wanted to look a bit younger. DH told her I would be her best friend. :-D Again, remember that this will be BIG, so minor flaws that I might ignore for a 5x7 print have to be addressed for this. One thing I do not do without being asked is to remove beauty marks. Goes back to that reality thing again.

So here's the enhanced image. It's still recognizably Dawn, the lines are still there, but more like she would have had them a few years ago. The skin tone is better, the hair fixed, but natural looking, and the eyes are brought out a bit, as well as being more symmetrical. Let me know what you think; I love feedback on my work.

And in another bit of niceness for the day...my eldest daughter called. She had just gotten a message from the mother of one of her best friends, Lindsi. Lindsi married her long-time S.O. on Saturday, and I was the officiant. Much to my daughter's distress, she couldn't be there, because she has a strained back. I felt badly for her, knowing that she really wanted to attend.

Anyway, Lindsi's mom sent this to my daughter: "I just wanted to tell you: You have a beautiful Mother with such a kind heart, she touched me yesterday and for what she conveyed to me, I will be forever Grateful. Please tell your Mom, Thank You from the bottom of my heart."

Awwwwwwwww. So sweet! So thoughtful! So....she doesn't know me too well, does she?

It IS West By God Virginia, After All

Having had a week to recover, I just had to share my experience officiating a wedding last Saturday. The only person I'd met from this event prior to the date was the bride. She hired me on our first day in the new studio and was a very pleasant person with whom to deal. (man, proper grammar can be tortuous!) We met again a week before the service. She mentioned that she'd rather start about 15 minutes after the official start time, because she knew her guests, and there would be stragglers. Okay, said I.

On the day, all gussied up in an official but dressy-looking pantsuit, I arrive at the local hotel where the wedding is being held. Not one of our more up-market locations, I knew what to expect having done a wedding there before. I walk in, see a young man in fairly nice dress sitting near the ballroom, and ask him if he knows where the bride is. Sure, says he, and proceeds to take me to her.

To get to the room, you have to key in a code on the hall doorway. He keyed it over and over, and it didn't work. Finally one of the bridesmaids opens the door, telling him he transposed a number. He walks me to the bride's door, knocks, tells them the minister is here and walks away so as not to see the bride. I wait. And wait. Finally I knock again, explain that I am actually standing here, not just in the building, and would like a word with the bride. After ascertaining that I'm alone, they let me in.

I like to see the bride before the service for a couple reasons, especially when, as with this couple, there was no rehearsal. As an aside, unless your wedding is tiny and NO children under 12 are involved, have a rehearsal. Anyway, I like to let the bride see that I'm present and show an oasis of calm demeanor in the chaos that is typically surrounding her. I check for any last minute changes, remind her that no matter how people are pushing her, nothing starts without her, and re-establish how word will get to me that she is indeed ready to start. I get the license, which must be in my hands before the service can be done. All that done, I clear out of the way.

I headed to the ballroom to check out the arrangements in there. I walked in the door to be assailed by the strong smell of bacon, of all things. People are milling around in everything from formal wear to Nascar gear. The arch is nicely decorated, the cake is set up with a twirling cake topper, and the head table is pretty. Everyone else will be seated at tables to watch the service.

Looking around, I see one man the right age to be the groom that's in the right clothing. He's drinking a beer, from a can, in, heaven help us, a cooler-style cozy. It's very apparent that it's not his first. Not that he's incapacitated by any means (I wouldn't do a service if he were; it wouldn't be legally binding), but he's a bit lit. Clinging to his leg is the couple's small son, about age 2, the ringbearer. Said son is very fussy, although dad says he's had a long nap that day. I consolingly reply that it's a lot of strange goings-on for a little one, as I watch with a faintly horrified eye has Junior picks his nose and proceeds to have his own little feast for one. Dad scolds him, and tries to farm him out to a willing helper, but Junior is at that unlovely stage where kids discover the joy of screaming. We let him cling to Daddy.

Someone mentions how good the food smells. Yes, it's all being set up already, like a picnic brought inside. I make my bacon smell observation and am informed that that's because there's a roasted pig back there. I take their word for it. I also listen to remarks that the Mother of the Bride (MoB) is ticked off because the FoB (you work it out) has been drinking already. I get the sense that he shouldn't be drinking at all. But the groom says, "What's he supposed to do when everyone else is having beer?" I refrain from expressing my opinion. I'm feeling almost saintly in my restraint.

The saintliness continues through two more encounters. First, I'm told by the groom and some guests that there's another wedding going on in a different room...and the color scheme for everyone but the bride is camouflage. One guest says with an odd sense of pride, "I told everyone that they're the West Virginia wedding, and we're the Redneck wedding!" Oooookay. Then I'm flagged down by a faintly familiar looking woman. She reminds me that we've done photography for her family before...when we shot her daughter's FIRST wedding a couple of years ago. I wince a bit.

I busy myself filling out the license, and watch the flower girls racing around the room, almost toppling the arch. I help the 'videographers' set up camera angles. And as it gets to be time, one of the bridesmaids tells the groom and I to come out to the lobby, the bride is almost ready and we'll formally walk in. We get out there, and I send the bridesmaid in to ask if the bride is ready to start. She doesn't come back. As the groom wanders off, I send one of the older boys in the wedding party...he doesn't return. While I'm standing alone, I hear a loud noise outside the big entry windows. I turn my head, and am flabbergasted to see an ATV being driven past, beer cans and old boots tied on back. A man whom I assume to be the groom in full camo is driving, as the bride, all in a formal gown, clings to his back and grins like a loon. It's official. I've seen it all.

Finally the groom saunters back, and I send in the bride's dad, who backs out quickly, because she's about to walk out with her groom there! I put a halt to that, and get ready to walk in with the groom. The FoB, definitely a bit worse for that forbidden beer, makes to come with us. I remind him that his daughter might actually like his escort. As we go back in, I ask one of the women who've been arranging things to have everyone be seated, corral a groom who wants to socialize some more, and get things started. The mother of the groom is seated and loudly scolds her husband, the best man, for not having his collar buttoned and his tie at half mast. He answers equally loudly that he can't button it, and the groom backs him up. Then the bridesmaids come in an outside door...and the DJ has vanished. No music is playing, and these girls come down the aisle like they're getting ready to clear a ditch on all four hooves. I sigh, unnoticed.

The little ringbearer comes down, races to Daddy howling, and refuses to let go. I tell the groom to leave him, knowing it will be worse if we try to move him. Then the two flower girls, sisters and adorable. They have lovely silk fall leaves in their basket, and the younger, in front, is clueless. Everyone tries to coach her. Ringbearer sees the older girl dropping her leaves, thinks it's intriguing, and goes to help. Littlest girl drops one or two, and raises her hand to her hair in befuddlement, leaving one leaf as big as half her head stuck in her hair. I laugh, but so does everyone. As she looks around to figure out why we're all laughing, she sees Big Sis dropping leaves, and promptly starts to pick them back up and put them in her basket.

We finally get them down the aisle, and in comes the bride, looking lovely. Her Dad looks wasted. I start the service, and Junior begins wailing. I speak over him, pausing when his parents try to comfort him. This, folks, is the best argument for marriage before children. He continues to scream, and when one line in the service refers to future trials, I make an audible aside and say, "Or even present ones!" This has the effect of cracking everyone up, showing them I'm not upset, and calming the bride and groom. Someone sweeps the little guy away long enough for us to get through the ring portion, and he's back, holding on like a leech, as they share their first kiss as husband and wife. *shew*

I grab my stuff, give the bride her portion of the license and tell her I mail the court copy for her. I give her a hug, and she is profuse in her thanks, and then I dart out the side door to the parking lot. Thinking I've made my escape, I see one of the bridesmaids coming out the front, sobbing her heart out. She's in her late teens, and I'm at a loss as to what's wrong. Figuring that I'd better act my ministerial role, I ask if she needs some help. But the mother of the groom comes out and goes to her, and I'm off the hook. I duck into my car and bolt.

A few days later, I got an email from the bride. I quote (sic):

"I just wanted to thank you for performing our ceremony. We enjoyed everything. And despite the chaos surrounding the beginning, we still thought it went well. Thank you for waiting and being so patient while we straitened everything out. We had a wonderful day. We resolved a payment issue with our dj after a conversation about the ceremony music that didn't get played. He also didn't play anything for the bouquet and garter toss or the cake cutting. It was still nice. Oh, and our cake table caught on fire! But believe it or not, we took everything with a laugh and had such a good time. Thanks again for everything."

That was, if you'll pardon the pun, the icing on the cake.

Dancing With Your Eyes Closed

A dear friend, Witt, and I loan books to one another. Normally I rip right through them, but recent events have left me little time for reading. I've had one book from him for a couple of months without cracking it open. I finally did and found a woven bookmark that he made me. Lovely, and simple, and I'll cherish it.

As I am the story...this is wonderful. The more so because it's a first novel, by Patrick Rothfuss, called The Name of The Wind. The prose is engrossing, and the story fascinating. But one passage moved me to tears.

I quote from page 108. "My parents danced together, her head on his chest. Both had their eyes closed. They seemed so perfectly content. If you can find someone like that, someone who you can hold and close your eyes to the world with, then you're lucky. Even if it only lasts for a minute or a day. The image of them gently swaying to the music is how I picture love in my mind even after all these years."

No offense to my favorite gender, but how many men get that? How many men understand the absolute importance of the quiet, almost unnoticed moment that still means more than words can say? Damned few, in my experience...especially if they are straight.

But I have one of the few. His birthday is Friday, and we're entertaining, so I may not have time to post that day. You should know that we often work weddings together; him photographing this so-emotional day, and me officiating, joining the two into one. When our work is done, we wait for the DJ or band to play something slow. "Soul Provider" was our first dance, and if we can request it, we do. And we dance. With our eyes closed.

Happiest of birthdays, my darling. I could never begin to match the gift that you are to me.

¿Habla ingles?

First, note the pretty new pictures, both at the top and in my before and after segment. Go ahead, look. I'll wait. :::hums "Jeopardy" theme::: The MP is the father of a Scottie friend of mine. The ducks are the DH's shot, with my touch of...dare I say it? Of course I dare!...magic.

Now for another PAI story. My cell phone just rang. Since DH is here, DD #1 is sick and DD #2 is hoping lightning will strike me as long as she's still in the will, I figured it was for Reverend Di. If my mom called, btw, it would play "Pomp & Circumstance." Which should tell you something about my mother, but I don't want to speculate what.

Anyway, I use my cell number for my wedding officiant business, and it was a local number, so I thought it was a call for that. I answer, in my unique way, "Hello?"

On the other end is a man, youngish but not a kid, and he blurts, "Do you have a website for your business?" "Which one?" "Your wedding business." "For a wedding officiant, or photographer?"

At this point, it starts to get farcical. "The one for weddings," he replies. I calmly and graciously (shut up, Olivia-Lee!) reply that we do wedding photography, and that I do wedding services. "So what is the website for your wedding planning?"

Did I SAY planning? I mentally test myself..." Soy una officiante de bodas..." Nope, I wasn't speaking Spanish. I know a little ASL, but pretty sure I wasn't using that over the phone. So I must have been speaking English; it's all I have left. "Sorry, no planning. Pictures, and minister. That's all." Finally, he says he's calling for a friend (with friends like these, who needs the village idiot, am I right, people?), and could he have the website for photography?

I provide it, and hang up, wondering where he got my number and who I need to throttle for it.