Ida Mae Nowes

Nubbins Special Correspondent

I’m happy to report that plans are going well for my wedding to Merl on March 25th. After all the advice we got about what type of wedding to have, in the end we decided on a simple ceremony in my backyard in Nubbins.

I admit, the weather can be a bit unpredictable the end of March, but we’ve rented a small tent and are going forward with high hopes.

Of course, terms like “simple ceremony” are so very misleading, aren’t they? That makes it sound like you can sit down in an afternoon, make a few phone calls and whip out a couple of emails, then go get a massage because you’re done with the whole thing. Not so. Setting the date was hard enough, but then there was the invitation list.

With just our close family members and friends and a few important people from the community who would have my head if they weren’t invited, the list included 80 people. Even so, I’m leaving off a lot of people in Nubbins I’m worried will be offended. But as a friend told me recently, “Keep the key to your happiness in your own pocket.” This wedding is not for the people I might or might not offend. It’s for Merl and me.

We’d been doing pretty well with that healthy attitude until Merl came to me with news that his mother had a request for the wedding.

Oh, my goodness, I thought to myself. What in the world is this about? I get along well with Merl’s mother, Floreen Demonbreun, who’s got to be close to 90. But she can dig her heels in on certain things, and this had the definite sound of heel-digging to it.

“It has to do with the preacher who’s performing the ceremony,” Merl said, hanging his head slightly. We’d already asked Geneva Wright, the minister at Nubbins First Presbyterian Church, to preside. “She wants the Rev. DeLap to at least be a part of the service,” he said, his head hanging even more.

“Vernon DeLap?” I asked in horror. “Isn’t he that minister your mother talks about who has an oil painting of himself over his mantle? The one his own wife calls ‘Our Beloved Pastor,’ even when he’s in the room with her?”
Merl could only nod his head.

“You don’t think it’s because the minister we picked is a woman, do you?” I asked.

“I can’t imagine that would be an issue for her, but who knows?” Merl responded.

This request seemed strange to me, but if it was important to Floreen, shouldn’t we honor it? How big a deal would it be for Merl and me anyway? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a big deal. I didn’t know this man, and from what I’d heard of him, he didn’t seem like the type of person I’d want at my wedding.

After stewing over it for days, I decided to just go to the source. Why not talk to Merl’s mother and get it out in the open? Merl thought that was a fine idea, but unfortunately he had an appointment on the afternoon I planned to visit her, or so he said.

It turns out Floreen was delighted to have me visit without Merl. She loved talking about the wedding, especially when it was just “the girls.” I went in with plenty of resolve, but all the walls of Floreen’s little home are covered with black and white photos of long-deceased relatives. As I sat there drinking tea with her, I felt their cold stares boring into me, each one saying “How could you do this to such a sweet little old lady?”

But finally I took a deep breath and launched into it.

“I did have one other little thing I wanted to bring up,” I said, “about the minister.”

“Yes?” Floreen answered, sipping her tea.

“Well, you know we had asked Rev. Wright to preside.” When Floreen didn’t jump in, I added, “You’re not worried because she’s a woman minister, are you?”

Floreen’s eyes widened. “Oh, heaven’s no. I may be … well, elderly … but I’m not living in the last century! I’m surprised you’d think so.”

“Well, I didn’t at first, but then Merl told me about you wanting Rev. DeLap to preside.”

“What?” she asked, incredulous. “It wasn’t me that brought up that old stuffed shirt. Merl was the one who suggested it. I thought it odd at the time, but you never know with him.” She paused, looking me in the eye. “Are you sure you want to marry him? He’s a little crazy, you know.”

Then I started laughing, and leaned over to give her a hug.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to marry someone who wasn’t a little bit crazy,” and I’m pleased to say that Floreen smiled at that.

Merl still says his mother was confused about the DeLap Fiasco, as we’re calling it, and she of course says he was, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad I didn’t call the man before getting to the truth of the matter.

I’m so glad things have fallen so neatly into place. With such a simple ceremony, I’m sure nothing could possibly go wrong now.

Right?