By Staff
Leada DeVaney, Editor
"It's only fitting," my mother said to me as we watched the Weather Channel on Wednesday, "that there would be a hurricane on the day you get married. Just about every big day of your life has been marked by some natural disaster or another."
I had heard most of this before, but it took on new meaning as we prepared to host an outdoor barbecue for 70 people last Friday night.
"There was a snowstorm the day you were born. A snowstorm. Those just don't happen in Birmingham, you know. And, the day you went into the hospital to have your tonsils removed, there was a tornado. Remember that birthday party you had at McDonald's when you were 8? There was a tornado then, too. We had to spend the party in the back room of the McDonald's, sharing the space with all the bags of frozen French fries."
My mother has a point. I do tend to be a magnet for disasters. You can name a holiday or major event and I can tell you all about the car accident, home repair mishap or just out and out total chaos that marked the occasion.
My wedding was going to be different. I had spreadsheets of information, planning everything down to who would be where, when and where they would stand.
Greg had his to-do list. My mother was coming up a week early to help me get ready. We were down to discussing the mundane items. Our biggest problem was what exactly would hold the condiments for the barbecue and who was going to take Greg and I to the airport after the wedding. And then Ivan came along.
Suddenly, our problems became how we were going to get the wedding cake from Birmingham to Huntsville where the wedding is taking place.
My sister – the lone bridesmaid – had to get from Auburn to Huntsville. The minister – a friend of mine – was making his way from even further south.
My mother, used to crisis by this point, went into action mode.
"If we have to, we'll have the minister marry you at your house and then you can jet out of here on your honeymoon and be none the worse for wear," she said.
I did not raise the possibility of no minister or no flights out of the country. Those were things better left unsaid but my mind couldn't help but drift back to earlier in the week.
Greg and I went to the Madison County Courthouse to get our marriage license. A marriage license costs you $53 and for only $5 more, the Probate Judge will perform the ceremony.
"It's only $5," Greg said. "It's not too late. We could just get married here today."
"And miss all this fun?," I said. "Not on your life."