Romance for Real Women

My Mother, the original Miss Moonbeam from the sixties, declined to marry any of the fathers of her children. Marriage is bourgeois, an insignificant, meaningless piece of paper, an institution designed to oppress women, all according to Mom.

But real women, of which she is one, love romance-even if it involves an exchange of vows before a priest in a church and comes with all the trimmings.

We just can’t help ourselves. And, it’s fun to see her in full wedding planning mode as her sister’s grandchild gets married.

The kids are just starting out, a couple of years out of college, so the original concept was that it was to be a small, intimate wedding in my aunt’s backyard as befitting the couple’s age and current economic status.

That of course was before Mom and Auntie drew up the guest list and realized there were fully 200 people that must be, had to be invited. Leaving one, even one, off the list would result in deeply hurt, never to be mended feelings

The church had already been reserved and it can easily accommodate the anticipated rally. But it didn’t take these two matriarchs long to figure out that the backyard just wouldn’t do.

So with Mom leading the charge, a country club has been rented for the reception.

The original plan had been for the bride to wear a sweet summer dress with perhaps a floppy hat. (That was Miss Moonbeam’s suggestion.) Now the search is on for an appropriate pattern and a thoroughly vetted dress maker.

An even more vigorous search is on for a veil purportedly worn by my great grandmother which has somehow disappeared. I won’t say these two perfectly charming women are pointing fingers at each other, but…

Currently, the telephones, landlines and cells, are burning up over issues involving flowers for the church, food for the reception and the merits of a morning coat versus a tuxedo.

I honestly don’t know how much input the poor bride is having into these weighty issues, but I assume everything is fine since I’ve heard nothing to the contrary. And I would have because I’m being brought up to date every night, although my opinion is never sought.

My sisters and I were raised on the aforementioned philosophy subscribed to by Miss Moonbeam. So, we are thoroughly enjoying her absorption in every detail of her great nephew’s upcoming nuptials. Unable to help myself, I went so far as to ask Mom why she was so involved since she didn’t believe in the institution.

She gave me the thousand yard stare she reserves for really stupid questions from her children.

“Bunny,” she said using her nickname for me, “you really don’t understand?”

“No, Mom, I don’t.” No chance of letting her off the hook on this one.

“They need my help,” she said before taking a call from her sister.

Oh, of course. Right.