The most nervous people at a wedding are the parents of the ring bearer and flower girl. Not the fathers or mothers of the bride or groom. Not the bridal couple.
That’s the way it was Saturday.
Our sweet Nancy married a nice fellow that hails from Marion. Both seemed calm as could be during the ceremony.
Grandchildren Whit, 5, and Cayden, 4, served the important functions of walking down the aisle and looking cute. Their parents had practiced and rehearsed with them and threatened, coerced, bribed and promised them the riches of favorite toys if they performed to high expectations.
The Friday evening rehearsal was a bit shaky, prompting thoughts of the popular YouTube video of a little flower girl screaming down the aisle with the mad ring bearer stomping behind her.
There was none of that foolishness at show time. The grandchildren performed flawlessly, earning the bribes and high praise. Their parents sighed in relief and could enjoy the rest of the wedding knowing their part was over.
Ben Hollifield is the lucky groom. The first time Nancy brought him to the house I invited him into the den to watch the football game. I had to apologize for the TV picture. I had been tweaking the remote control for a month trying to get the picture to properly fit the frame.
Ben asked for the remote and fixed it in 10 seconds.
That’s when I knew he was the one.
He had me at hello, to steal a line. Anybody who can work a TV remote is a serious marriage prospect and handy to have around the house during family gatherings and on holidays.
Months later at the beach, Ben brought a wooden box kite that he had made in elementary school. It still flies. That is another rule of mine: If he can fly a kite, marry him. Kite flyers make good husbands.
I don’t know if he can fish, but that is also an important test on the marriage meter.
The wedding was in Durham, and we spent three days in the recently proclaimed “Tastiest City in the South” by Southern Living magazine. We saw a little of what charmed the magazine. We didn’t have time to sample the many food trucks that now prowl the city, but from the aroma, they must be good.
The Daughter of Davie and Son of McDowell were wed at the beautiful First Presbyterian Church, and young Robert flew in from Oklahoma to sing for them. Four years of college and a little instruction have seasoned his voice, and I was mighty proud. He now has a mane worthy of Samson. I no longer anticipate his …