My Daughter’s Wedding Vol. I: It’s a Sporran! Leave Me Alone!

After a more than 5 year relationship, we were finally getting down to the last day before my older daughter, Shayna, was getting married to her fiancé Michael.We had all been very excited for Shayna and Michael and I was certainly no exception. To be quite honest, it didn’t have so much to do with the event itself. Don’t misunderstand me. Michael is a fine, young man whom we had already considered to be part of the family long before this point. It’s just that the last month prior to the wedding was quite a logistical ordeal for all involved. Dealing with catering, seating charts and ,oh by the way, chairs for the charted individuals was getting to be a bit of a stressor for us all. I can’t recall more specific details about this.It is a proven fact that there are tiny chemicals in a wedding dress. When the father of the bride sees the dress on his daughter. The chemicals are released which induces a mild, hypnotic trance upon the father. One of the side effects is short term memory loss. The other side effect is…sorry, I was staring at a picture of my daughter in her wedding dress again.
I should point out that there were a few details of this wedding that, shall we say, veered a bit from tradition. We had arranged with the deejay that the bridal party would be introduced as “Master of Puppets” played. The bridesmaids were all wearing Chuck Taylor sneakers. One particular bridesmaid wore a pair that had a Batman theme. These were all very cool elements for the ceremony. Other elements, on the other hand, were quite traditional. The groom, Michael, comes from a Scottish bloodline. Because of this, the outdoor ceremony took place as the bride and groom stood beneath an oak tree. The setting was amazing. Nothing was as beautiful as the bride but one could argue that I am biased on that matter.
Another tradition that Michael wished to honor had to do with the formal wear for the groomsman and, yours truly, the Father of the Bride. Once again honoring Scottish heritage, we all had to wear formal kilts. Now, in spite of my Celtic bloodline, this was NOT something I was particular looking forward to. Still, I joked that if it meant I got to watch Mike and Shayna get married, I’d wear a dress. Mike and Shayna politely declined my offer.
About three months prior to the wedding, several of us went to the Celtic formal shop to get measure for our kilts. Once that was done, we had to leave a 50% deposit then pay the balance the day before the wedding when we picked up the outfits. That part of the ordeal was pretty quick and painless. The rough part was the constant teasing by both of my daughters. This was especially on the part of my younger daughter, Brianna, who still lives with me. At every possible opportunity, when the subject of the wedding came up, Brianna would say (in between fits of laughter): DAD HAS TO WEAR A DRESS FOR THE WEDDING! This would result in some back and forth dialogue between us: DAD HAD TO WEAR A DRESS! It’s called a KILT, Baby Girl. DAD HAD TO CARRY A PURSE, TOO! That’s a SPORRAN, Baby Girl! HEY DAD! I”M GOING TO THE MALL! WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PICK YOU UP SOME FRILLY UNDIES AND SOME GARTERS TO GO UNDER YOUR DRESS? NO, Baby Girl. The garters come with the ….LEAVE ME ALONE!
Finally, the day before the wedding arrived and I had to go to the rental shop and pick up my outfit. For some strange reason, I thought bringing my wife (Renee), daughter (Brianna),and son (Caleb) along for the occasion was a good idea. Actually, part of it had to do with the fact was that it was also, coincidentally, Brianna’s 21st birthday. Brianna had actually been rather well behaved as we ran some errands prior to getting to the Celtic formal shop. I would soon find out that this was temporary. As we walked into the store, the first thing Brianna saw was a mannequin dressed in a formal kilt. This caused Brianna to succumb to a sudden (and loud) outburst of laughter. I tried my best to ignore her as I was inspecting the outfit with the nice saleslady and going over the terms of the rental. When we got into our van, it all started again. This time, my wife decided to join in: DAD HAS TO WEAR A DRESS FOR THE WEDDING! It’s a KILT, baby girl. HONEY, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO GET YOU A SLIP FROM THE DEPARTMENT STORE? [Brianna is now snorting with laughter] HEY, DAD! ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR FISHNET STOCKINGS WITH YOUR DRESS? It’s a KILT, Baby Girl. Also, I don’t wear “stockings”. They are special socks called [perusing the list]…ummm…kilt hose….LEAVE ME ALONE!!! Brianna, Renee, and Caleb are now doubled over with laughter and squealing like howler monkeys. DAD’S WEARING HOSE WITH HIS DRESS AND PURSE!!!!  Y’ALL LEAVE ME ALONE!!!