Father of the Bride
As a father of two girls, I knew the day would come when one would get married. I knew there would be a time, God willing, when I would have to walk my daughter down the aisle and give her away.
That day came Sept. 20, 2008, as my oldest daughter, Christina, married Alan Bramer at St. Mary’s Catholic Church in New Albany. It was a great day, but getting there was a bit of an adventure. In fact, it would have made quite a movie.
We started off the wedding week with Hurricane Ike, who decided to blow 80 mph winds through New Albany. I don’t remember inviting him to the wedding. I also didn’t think hurricanes could reach the Midwest. Maybe global warming had something to do with it.
Thousands in the area, including many of you, were left without electricity. Many lost roofs, and St. Mary’s even lost its steeple. So, as the winds died down on that Sunday afternoon, all we could do was turn our attention to the steeple, which was leaning and ready to fall right through the church. This would have caused massive damage and forced the wedding to be moved elsewhere. All of these things were running through my mind as I held a two-day vigil in Kraft’s parking lot, waiting for it to fall or for another gust of wind to maybe straighten it up.
Luckily, thanks to some skilled workers, Padgett cranes and help from up above, the steeple was removed without damaging the church.
One hurdle was cleared, a second was to come.
The winds also knocked out the electricity to our caterer’s location in Louisville. We waited patiently — well we waited — for the electricity to return to Hall’s Catering. My wife and I even drove to the building, slid a note through the door, begging, pleading for a response. I even looked up above and asked, “Why me?” A bit dramatic maybe, but in our small world, this was huge.
Monday and Tuesday came and no electricity. We continued to wait, patiently. OK, not patiently.
On Wednesday, we looked to make other plans — peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, White Castle crave cases, something. We had 200 people coming to a reception and potentially no food to serve them. We did, however, have beer, a DJ and a roof over our head — so not all was lost.
Finally, on Thursday morning, our prayers were answered and electricity was restored. In two days, Hall’s put together a great feast.
The hurdles were all cleared and there was nothing else that could alter the blessed event. Not after everything we had been through.
Except that Ike temporarily knocked the air conditioning and lighting out at St. Mary’s. But a little sweat never hurt anyone, and using candles instead of lights provided the perfect backdrop for the wedding.
Looking back, I didn’t need Ike to become a basket case. But he sure helped add to my stress level and give us something to talk about for years to come. While I have a few qualities, patience is not one of them. I’m naturally nervous and skeptical — it comes with the job I guess.
Mother Nature didn’t help matters. In fact, she threw us quite a scare. But in the end, everything worked out. The wedding was perfect.
Nothing can prepare you for being the father of the bride. You can watch the movie which bears the title and stars Steve Martin, but even it can’t prepare you for the actual, real-life role.
As I stood at the back of the church, waiting to walk my daughter down the aisle, I started to have flashbacks. In a matter of a few minutes, I relived 24 years.
I remembered when she learned to walk and buying her treats. I remembered her playing dress-up. I remembered her days of playing volleyball at St. Mary’s, the day she got her driver’s license and went to her first high school prom. I remembered the day she graduated from high school and college and how proud I felt.
But what I truly remembered was the day she was born and holding her for the first time. And then, I looked at this beautiful young lady standing next to me ready to become Mrs. Alan Bramer. In a way, it all seemed a bit strange.
I was filled with pride and emotion as we began the march down the aisle. I was, at last, the father of the bride. And while the adventure of the wedding week was scary and unforgettable, nothing could have ruined the moment. It was perfect. Story by: Chris Morris, Region Editor
Chris.Morris@newsandtribune.com