Chapter 34

The fateful day had arrived. The flowers had arrived. Everyone assumed that despite infinite planning all would be well. As with anything, that is as complex as a wedding, there are problems. One must anticipate and adjust. The florist died two days before the wedding. Twelve months of planning and the guy up and dies. Thoughtless timing but I am sure the funeral was beautiful. Proving that anything can be done in a few hours that can be dragged out over a few months or a year, a new florist was summoned, a healthy one. Then the baker. Emily and Harold had gone to five bakeries, tasted about ten flavors, chosen colors, flowers, patterns, the whole thing, and paid for it. The cake showed up with not only the wrong flavor, but also it had little figures on top lining up at the line of scrimmage. Harold and Emily's cake was at the reception for the 350 pound center of the Cincinnati Bengal's foot ball team. He greatly enjoyed the cake Harold and Emily picked out. The orange and black eight tiered cake with goal posts, and eleven tiny men squatting wasn't quite as appropriate for Harold and Emily's little gathering.

Harold greeted all the guests as they arrived. He helped the ushers seat people. The wedding book specifically forbade this but what did Harold know? He didn't read page 307 on proper seating techniques. The groomsmen all took their positions, the bride was about to appear in all her glory when the reverend leaned over to the videographer and told him to shut off the camera. Now this minister was not of a church that had a taboo against electronics. This was not some fundamentalist bible thumper that felt the presence of God was brought out best on a bare wood alter while praying on your knees. This was "Rent a Reverend". You know, the guy who says a few nice things to the happy couple who happen to not be religious, and then hangs around for some hors d'oeuvres. Harold and Emily had a profound religious conflict. He was an atheist and she an agnostic. It had caused a lot of discussion. Harold insisting that she was just hedging her bets, she insisting that Harold was just pig headed. Well, this Rent a Reverend, who usually allowed just about anything that did not include animal sacrifice or excessive nudity, suddenly developed an aversion to videography. I mean for a guy who had a beeper on his belt, and a cellular phone in his car for those theological emergencies, what was the problem?

Harold had arranged for three people to have video cameras in addition to the stills. He wasn't going to do this again and Emily wouldn't let him run the camera himself, so he had planned ahead.

The dum-dum-dee-dum music started and the bride began her triumphant entrance. She was absolutely beautiful in her flowing white gown. Harold was awe struck. Dumb-struck, Dumb-founded. Let's just say he was a like a deer in the headlights of an 18 wheeler and he was about to become road jerky. "Excuse me, What are you doing?" The magic spell of the moment was broken as the Reverend turned to the videographer. "I do not allow video during the ceremony, it ruins the magic of the moment. Who sent you? Who said you could be here?" With each word the tone and volume of the questions raised until the whole audience, including some of the elderly, hearing challenged relatives in the cheep seats could clearly understand.

Harold was still glassy eyed. Emily looked like someone had noted an iguana on her train. Fred Learner, the videographer, turned to the reverend. "Marshall McLuhan sent me." The other two guys with video immediately changed their shots to look at Fred, then the minister, then Fred, then back to Emily.

The minister didn't get it. "Who?"

"Marshall McLuhan." Fred repeated.

He was caught off balance. The video rolled and the last visage of propriety was lost when Emily piped in with "Yeah, Get on with it." The Rent a Reverend took a step back, tripped on the microphone and fell into the bouquet set up by the new florist. The bouquet was one of those things on a stand, which of course fell towards the chairs reserved for the father and mother of the bride. Emily's father jumped up to defend his wife, and tipped over the harpist, who fell into the eight tiered, orange and black Cincinnati Bengals Cake. The harp strings finely sliced the cake. By the time the melee was over, Fred had administered the vows and the happy couple was walking out to the hor d'oevres table. Video is wonderful. It is best for those people with early Alzheimers so they can remember what they did on vacation. This time it caught a truly memorable moment.

Chapter 35

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