Ruralite Cafe: Published 12/13/01

By Lisa Majors-Duff - News Editor

Shorts, T-shirts are proper attire for Fla. wedding

For better or for worse, most of my extended family resides in sunny Florida, the land of swaying palm trees, ocean breezes and sandy beaches. And it was to Palm Beach that we were all summoned this past weekend to witness a miracle - my cousin Mark, age somewhere between 40 and 50, was scheduled to walk down the aisle for the very first time.

I call it a miracle because Mark, though he's had several delightful opportunities, swore to all who asked that marriage was not for him, commitment was not his cup of tea.

Then he met Vicki. During the three years the two have been together, the dreams Mark's mother dreamed have grown. She hoped Vicki would be the one to finally get her oldest son to settle down, and when the invitation arrived in the mail, I began to believe she might have been right.

Now, I know good and well what your average Western North Carolinian thinks about the great state of Florida. Most of us, me included, would rather clean out a chicken coop with our teeth than be forced to drive behind a motor home bearing that vulgar orange and green license plate during leaf season. Florida might be home to Disney World and miles of beach-front property, but it also has its share of crowded cities, crime run amuck and disease-carrying mosquitoes the size of turkey vultures.

What's worse is that each and every Floridian will be more than happy to explain in nauseating detail how and why all things are better in the Sunshine State, though something obviously drives them away from their homes and onto our roads every summer.

That being said, I found out this weekend why Floridians go home after Thanksgiving - it's really beautiful. Take for example Singer Island, home to the Sailfish Marina Resort and the bride and groom's chosen location for their nuptials. Flowers were blooming, releasing into the air sweet fragrances candlemakers only wish they could capture. Teenagers were snorkeling, their playful splashing audible throughout the resort's restaurant, which has no walls.

We all agreed this was the perfect place for a wedding, but up until Saturday night, the night we all eagerly awaited the blessed event, Mark remained cagey about the particulars.

"Are your feet cold," he was asked when he would not respond to the even more obvious question, "When's the big event going to take place?"

Vicki, who is by no means shy and may be the most straight-forward person I've met exactly twice, refused to assist her anxious guests, who were becoming more confused and confounded the closer we got to dinner Saturday.

"Go ask Mark," was her response to almost all questions, including strangely enough, "What should I wear?"

Not being able to stand it one minute longer, cousin Tom approached a man loitering nearby who he'd been told might be the preacher. He and the stranger sat on a bench and talked for a long time, while those of us who knew the true meaning of the weekend gathering snickered and pretended the vows would be spoken soon.

As dessert was being served, the couple rose. Standing under strings of white lights, they announced to all that they'd actually been married the Sunday after Thanksgiving. As it turned out, we'd all been tricked and invited to the reception, not the wedding.

The event, they said, had even been a surprise to them. They believed they were to be counseled after the Sunday service by their pastor, who instead called them up in the middle of the service and in front of 250 people, none of whom were family, to publicly declare their love for one another.

Considering the surroundings and the great time of family fellowship, no one dared be mad at the happy couple. But there were still those in the crowd, including cousin Keith, the lawyer, who demanded proof. Vicki was on top of that request before Keith could finish it, passing out copies of their marriage certificate to all.

As we touched down at the Atlanta airport Sunday evening, I wondered if it had been wise to wear shorts and a T-shirt on the way home. Contentment quickly replaced concern as I decided that if those are proper attire for a wedding, they are most assuredly proper for a plane ride.

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