Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Two Weddings and a Funeral

Highlights of my cousin's wedding in rural Maine:

  • Before anything began, before even my first drink, I bent down to get something out of my purse and smashed my head into the back of a chair, so now I have a bruise on my forehead implying raucous drunkenness that never really came to fruition.
  • My uncle leaning across the table to ask my sister "What's that between your BOOBS?" in reference to her tattoo.
  • The early no-show for karaoke which resulted in my deaf cousin (the bride) stumbling through "Summer of '69" by herself until she was bailed out by the everyone present in a terrible cacophony of off-key singing
  • All the cousins from my side of the family collaborating on Monster Mash (my choice)
So, in the spirit of Way Back Tuesday, I was going to tell the story of the first wedding I ever went to or something, but then all I could remember was something about some organza and champagne and being really really bored, so I decided to tell about the first funeral of someone I knew.

I was about 10 or 11, and the husband of the organist in our church passed away. It being a congregation of about twelve people, and my mom being the priest, this was one of the Adults In My Life, so I went to the memorial service, and my parents even let me go right up to the open casket in that whole "check out the body" time. I was interested to find out that dead people look a lot like alive people, but sleeping and with darker eyelashes, and I was leaning in to see what they smelled like, when I was also interested to discover that they talked like alive people too. Except that they talked about themselves in the third person.

Then, his wife answered him, and I realized that the voices were actually coming from behind me. Turning around, I discovered the organist and her husband standing behind me. I figured then that the thing in the casket must be one of those wax sculptures like we had seen in Ripley's Believe it or Not and the organist's husband had faked his death and then been so ballsy as to show up at his own funeral and talk about himself in the third person, and everyone was playing along.

My mom told me that he had an identical twin, and that was the man I met at the funeral, but I still think my explanation was better.



  1. I have a hard time believing that those events did not lead to drunkenness. Any one of the separately is reason to go for it.

    And i like your reasoning better

  2. Yeah, I'm just going to pretend you were drunk. That's my explanation for my fall in the shower. And the subsequent picture of my ass on my blog. Drinking is a good scapegoat. It rarely contradicts you.

    I think you were right and your mom is full of crap (I mean that in a nice way, Antelope's Mom, if you're reading this...). That whole "identical twin" explanation is tired.

  3. There was SOME drunkenness... just not the kind that would result in the bruise I have on my forehead. It takes a lot for me to get head-crackin' drunk, and I've never been that drunk in front of my family. I got just drunk enough to agree to karaoke, but still sober enough to remember that we had to pick a "song" that was mostly yelling. I'm pretty proud of that self-control.