Ta dah!*

Sweet Home Alabama is a sweet place for a wedding.  My brother was married there on Saturday, September 14^th.  My family was excited to check out a southern state, see if it really was like Paula Dean, Honey Boo Boo and Dukes of Hazard.  We had ideas about it much like an Alabaman might have about California beaches, palm trees, and tie-dye.  In Huntsville, our preconceptions were dashed with its Anytown, USA feel.  It’s probably because really smart people live there, as in rocket scientists, truly.  We were enlightened.  Eyes peeled, we found the wedding celebration held most of the surprise, some of it southern and A LOT of it family.

Our 36-hour tour began with the rehearsal dinner.  We met the calm and lovely bride and her family.  Her parents gushed about my brother being a godsend. “MY brother?”  I only thought it; I am grownup now.  My siblings don’t seem like a godsend to me like gifts, more like God sent me siblings and good luck.  I was pleasantly surprised by their comment. The parents went on about how my brother promised to take good care of their daughter.  Being the proud sister to such an upstanding person I had to agree with them.  “He really will! It makes me so happy to hear you think so kindly of him.” ‘Ya know, looking back, we did have some pretty good times building igloos from snow drifts in Colorado and jumping into piles of autumn leaves in Idaho.  The guy is all right.

Over a delicious steak and potato dinner like home, we chatted in between sips of ice tea found at every place setting, a southern thing.  My siblings and I traded smacks, much to the surprise of any non-related guests. You can’t survive a brood of seven brothers and sisters and not know how to verbally arm yourself.  It’s the way.

Mom and Dad*

At the wedding, my younger sister and I were candle lighters.  We both thought it was kind to be included until we understood the symbolism and we were instantly honored.  My sister lit a memory candle, a vehicle for my parents to view the wedding via candle-satellite from heaven.  I’d tear up every time I looked at it, always straight at the flame.  I lit the groom’s candle in preparation for the unity candle, lit by the wedding couple, joining the two families.  I was our mom and dad.  It was one of those moments where the impact of my parents’ absence hit home.

Candle-lighters got front row seats and sat at arm’s length to the groom.  Maybe it was the view or maybe being older and wiser, the joy between the bride and groom was palpable.  My brother looked like he could burst, his twinkling blue eyes beaming as his beautiful bride glided into the church.   The bride’s vows were spoken with her gentle southern lilt, like she owned the words recited at every wedding.  And to break up all this seriousness, my aunt whispered from behind me, “Well she must be great if she’s wearing red shoes.”  Red satin, low-heeled sandals gave just a pop to the tea length, 50s vibe frock.   Only nice surprises here, a perfect fit.

His.*

At the reception, the southern-ness came out.  The sweet tea was flowing and wedding cupcakes were stacked like pine trees, his and hers flavors.  In a flash I recognized the groom’s tree of cupcakes:  German Chocolate.  We always celebrated my brother’s birthdays with his favorite flavor.  The bride’s pick:  cherry cheesecake.   And lest we forget WHERE we were celebrating, we heard four rounds of “Sweet Home Alabama.”  I genuinely love that song so I was enjoying the constant reminder.

Hers.*

After a nice meal, my siblings and I were in for a big shocker.  All I can say is, if you are at a wedding where the groom is a friend of the DJ’s, run for them thar hills.  We were asked to “entertain” the wedding couple.  Thanks goodness for all that sweet tea or we never would have had the nerve to reincarnate The Village People.

The costumes were handed out one by one.  An older brother got off easy with a fireman’s hat, must have been the moustache.  My most conservative sister got the black leather, metal studded police outfit.  The most dramatic sister got a leprechaun hat and wand to which she leapt and chuckled with authenticity.  My most cooperative sister was lead guitarist.  My retired-Naval-never-going-back brother was ironically a sailor again. I got off with a construction hat and orange vest.  We danced to the quintessential wedding party song, “YMCA.”  I know the “Y”, “M”, “C”, “A” arm moves well.  Too many nights in dance clubs meant I was leading the pack.  My sailor bro missed this pop-culture boat and thought I prepared ahead of time.

Village People or Village Idiots?*

After a smashing performance, the DJ “requested” at the direction of the rascally groom, to keep sailor boy and turn him into a guitar player.   A couple of back-up singers with feather boas, my sister-in-law and me, joined in to perform “Play That Funky Music.”  Nice song for the basement of a church in the south.

Barbie and Ken

One big surprise deserves another.  My “smart” brother took a limo from the wedding to the honeymoon.  He left his car locked in his garage at home.  A key was located.  The car was stuffed with newspapers and balloons.  Barbie, Ken and a box of cupcakes sat on the dash.  Every window was painted with a message, my favorite:  a big red circle with a slash painted over “YMCA.”  The only other evidence of the culprits, “Sally Was Here!”  My mom called us Sally when she couldn’t remember the name of which kid she wanted.

Message delivered.

With such a big family a lot of mischief unfolded beyond the car and into the house. Furniture was rearranged.  Green Tea turned green. Sponge Bob streamers dangled from the bedroom fan, “Mobile Alabama.”  Popcorn filled the sinks.  “Best part of the whole trip,” quoted some teens.  It was a lot to clean up after a blissful honeymoon.  The groom laughed it off and promised his new wife it will never get any worse.  Days later he refreshed himself after a run with a drink of ice water, only to discover green peas found their way into the ice dispenser.

I bet this stays forever!

Families can make any place feel like home sweet home.

(* Photos by Cousin Katie.)