What if They Threw a Wedding and Nobody Came?

Anyone who knows me realizes I'm not big on formality (an understatement of epic proportions). Nevertheless, my bride to be wanted a traditional wedding so we had one-- for the most part. Money was tight so there were some oddities on the way, but it was traditional enough.

One thing, however, horrified my mother. We didn't send out invitations. We didn't see the point in spending that money (this was before the internet; you couldn't simply invite everyone via a Facebook page or email). It was all in person or over the phone.

Mom did her best. Her final argument, her trump card, should (in her mind) have forced my hand.

"You realize your grandmother will never come without a formal invitation."

"She loves me. She'll come." (She came and never said a word about an invitation.)

Her frustration now at critical mass, a second motivation beyond Mom's simple love of all things formal slipped out. "All these years, I've sent hundreds of gifts to all our relatives and friends when their kids got married. It's time we got some back." This was so foreign to who I am that to this day I'm still not sure how I kept a straight face or what I said.

(In Mom's defense, she grew up dirt poor on the wrong side of the tracks in Selma, Alabama during the depression so propriety and formality went hand in hand with respect. I understood her viewpoint; Sharon and I simply saw things differently.)

But I digress (surprise!). Suffice it to say that though we kept it simple and inexpensive it was traditional, and we planned it. Nothing was left to chance.

Most people plan weddings. It may be traditional or non-traditional, but weddings tend to be planned. Nobody simply throws a wedding.

Nobody except Stefanie McLin and Matthew Monk. They threw a wedding.

There was a modicum of planning. I think the groom's mens' shirts matched. Their pants were all somewhere vaguely in the neighborhood of brown. The bridesmaids wore purplish dresses, varying from shiny, purple party dresses to a white sun dress with little purple flowers. Matt and Stef worked out with the pastor what the service and vows would be. They picked out flowers. Other than that they simply threw a wedding.

The facebook invite included the following items over the course of a few weeks (from memory, not verbatim, but all true):

• Invite anyone you like, whether we know them or not. Everyone is welcome.
• Who can help set up? There should be some sort of an aisle to walk down, and some chairs would be nice.
• Pot luck reception; it would be great if everyone posted here what you're bringing (very few did)

Questions the invitees asked included:

• Exactly where (in this 351 acre park) is it?
• How should we dress? (answer I found out Stefanie had given at her shower: "Wear whatever you want. You might want to play in the creek or go kayaking afterward.")

Someone sat up on the rocks above where chairs and blankets were set up (with two, 15 foot ribbons marking the aisle) and played guitar and sang until the wedding started. The parties walked in more or less like in any wedding, but a lot more relaxed, pretty much at their own paces.

Dogs wandered through. Nobody cared.

It was Will Bibee's first wedding. You have to know Will; this is a pastor who's been known to bring a rubber chicken to church to make sure people don't get too religious. The dude is chill. But he was just nervous enough to ask. "Who gives this man to this woman?" (I went with it. "I do!" but I don't think anyone heard over the laughter.) Will stopped in the middle to tell some funny stories about Matt and Stef. He referenced the whole thing as a hippie wedding (it was, but the drug of choice was the love of God).

Everyone then carried their chairs and blankets a good hundred and fifty yards to where the tables were set up for the reception.

Nobody really knew what would be there. Nobody cared.

As we set the food out Sharon realized there were no cups. A total pot luck, and the only thing missing was cups? Awesome! I drove to the store and bought cups. When I returned, I found someone had showed up with cups right after I left (we brought lots of cups home; if you throw a wedding soon I can bring cups!) We ran out of meat just before the last half dozen people got their plates; more meat showed up two minutes later. We had plenty of everything.

Even cake... and they had not planned a wedding cake. There was cake left over.

Several people showed up late, missing the ceremony entirely (most because they were part of a conference this morning). Nobody cared.

If you like gala performances and spending what could have been a down payment on your house for a big party, a dress you'll wear once, and rented tuxedos, that's fine. Go with what works for you. But I highly recommend throwing a wedding. If you can go with no expectations, just being with friends and family and having a good time, it will be a blast.

God doesn't care. The state doesn't care. You don't have to care.

I've known JP weddings that resulted in wonderful lifetime marriages. Then there's all the money and media attention Charles and Diana had, and we know how well that worked out. Our culture has bought into this lie we have to spend a ton of money and have a fancy ceremony to have a wedding. All you really need is two people committing to one another, and hopefully some form of family and community to celebrate with you and support you. Everything else is optional.

"But what if I threw a wedding and nobody came through?"

Ah, but what if they did? That would be something, wouldn't it?

It was.

And When I Die... When I'm Dead, Dead and Gone

I've meant to write this up for a while. Thanks to Caryn Werner for inspiring me to just do it!

Most funerals annoy me. Funerals are supposed to be for the living, but so many are depressing. I'm not saying everyone needs to have a funeral like I want mine to be... well, maybe I am!

I think the Irish (among others) were on the right track with a wake, a party. Not getting drunk, per se, but just having a party, celebrating the good times, the memories, the things that mattered about a person. Laughing at their foibles. Stuff like that.

Rather than focusing on the fact they're physically gone, focus on who they were and what they meant-- and mean to you. Let them live in, with, and through you!

I need to update the list of what I want at my funeral. Sharon knows some things, but the details change.

1. No black, unless you're really old or a goth or something. Everyone else wearing dark or boring clothes gets handed a bright tee shirt at the door they have to wear over their other clothes. Best to wear tie dye, Hawaiian shirts, etc. Bathing suits are fine. For all I care, show up in your birthday suit, but that might be more hassle than it's worth; this is an all ages event.
2. If you walk around with a sad face, prepare to get hugged, tickled, pranked, or told funny stuff.
3. Everyone should leave with something of mine that means something to them. There is to be no actual fighting over things like the Darth Vader Mr Potato Head, but if multiple people want something contests are encouraged. This can be anything from a game of cards to a backward skipping race to a duel with fun noodles (impartial judges shall decide the victor, or an objective rule such as whoever's noodle is biggest after a one minute match shall apply). All parties must agree to the terms beforehand.
4. Everyone has to play spoons, the Mad Magazine board game, or something else fun and rowdy, for at least 15 minutes. Farting contests count.
5. There will be music, and it will be neither solemn nor sad. Sharon has input on the music, but I don't want more than two classic hymns. Petra's _Graverobber_ must be played. There should be at least one live band or singer/guitarist, etc... the more the merrier.
6. Unless forbidden by law (and maybe even then) there must be fireworks.
7. Food! Including Chuys. And good coffee. And desserts.
8. Side parties at a shooting range are encouraged.
9. A bonfire really wants to participate.
10. Hugs. Everyone gets lots and lots of hugs.
11. Crying and laughing are both encouraged.
12. Share your stories!

Ideally, there would be a life size cutout of me somewhere, thumbing my nose at Microsoft, big government, and bad food.

I would prefer to be cremated since the state frowns on using human remains to fertilize the flowers. Preferably in a cheap pine box. Spare no expense-- but not for my dead flesh. Go as cheaply as possible there, and spend the money on those who need it. Some of it should go to Albania.

Afterward, everyone should go hug 6th Street, Albania, Muslims, someone who needs it.

If you must have a memorial, it should have a roadkill symbol.

God willing, this is a long ways off (I fully expect to see you all at my 111th birthday party under the Party Tree!), but I think you ought to know what to expect.