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Thank goodness my bride-to-be was way past the Martha Stewart phase. While some of my friends lived by the motto WWMD (What Would Martha Do), I was more of the MWDH (Martha Would Die Here) ilk.
All of this reminds me of a wedding I went to years ago. Actually it was the rehearsal that was memorable. The wedding was at a country church way back in the sticks. Most folks had shoes on for the rehearsal; however, several of the groomsmen came in coveralls wearing no shirts underneath, but they all had teeth. Almost everyone was drinking one type of alcoholic beverage or another they had in their car. We were drinking libations legally bottled and unlike most of the group, ours were not being served from a mason jar or some vessel that formerly contained mayonnaise.
The mother of the bride was running around trying to round up all the wedding party who were strung out socializing everywhere from the back pew of the sanctuary to the parking lot of the church. I’m not sure why she was so concerned, there was plenty of time because the wedding director was an hour late.
When the director finally arrived, she was a little confused. A double aisled church was a challenge for her. After dividing the attendants by two, she figured it out. Then she looked at the mother of the bride. "Now you will be seated last." With that she started to show the mother the pew she would be seated in.
The mother of the bride bristled, and in a loud voice stated, "I'll just let you know, I am the mother of the bride. And in case you do not know that is place of honor. I will not be seated last. I find that demeaning."
The director was speechless. "But that is traditional. It is an honor."
"Honor? To put the mother of the bride at the bottom? Last? Like the last teat on a pig?" Then she turned to her daughter. "Aren't you going to say something? You're going to let them treat your mama like this?"
"Mama, if she says that is proper, then I think we should listen to her."
"Great, now I don't get any respect from my own daughter, after all I've done for you."
I would have thought the mother and the daughter would have taken this discussion outside. But no, this
"discussion" got ugly. Finally the daughter said "Mama, it's my wedding and you're ruining it, like I knew you would."
"Oh, sweetie, you know I'd never do that. I just don't want all the folks who are coming to think we are hicks and don't know how to have a wedding. I've seen Martha Stewart's show on weddings and she never had the mother seated last."
"Mama, did you see Martha Stewart tell the mother where to sit?"
. . . you can read the rest of this chapter soon when "The Mother of the Bride Should Never Wear Blue" is published
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