While having coffee and cake with Catfish and Gator Babe a couple of days ago, Gator Babe’s sister who along with her husband were visiting from the Atlanta area, asked how long we had been married. I proudly answered, “It’ll be fifty years next June.” Then I had a flashback, remembering our wedding.
The pickle Queen was really anxious about making a mistake during the wedding ceremony. Her uncle, a pastor, along with the church preacher were both officiating at the wedding. I don’t know if they were afraid that I’d change my mind and flee and the PQ would be an old maid forever, or why, but one of the two reassured her, pointing out that the order of service was not difficult to remember.
“All you have to keep in mind,” one of them said, “is that when you enter the church you walk up the aisle. Floyd and the best man will be waiting before the altar. Then I shall ask the congregation to sing a hymn. Then we shall go on with the ceremony. Just remember this order and you can’t go wrong!”
The happy Saturday evening arrived, and I waited nervously for my bride to appear. As the PQ took her place beside me, I was curious and then horrified as I heard her repeating, “Aisle, altar, hymn. Aisle, altar, hymn…” (Think about it!)
And some time later she did!
Keep your fork