Despite the difficult and overwhelming circumstances my family was going through, a wedding was still quickly approaching. We traveled back and forth between Jackson and McAdams. We worked at the hospital, writing thank you notes, going over the program and schedule, and nailing down little details that sneak up on you. We worked at home painting, staining, and building.

To be quite honest, I don’t remember much of the week of the wedding. I just know we were all really busy. Our friends from Fort Worth made it Friday afternoon and were taken to their places of lodging for the weekend. All the groomsmen would be staying at a lake house we had rented out. The rehearsal dinner would also be there. The girls would be staying at one of the less than fabulous motels in town. Along with friends rolling in, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins showed up throughout the day as well.

It was finally time to go to the rehearsal. Bro. James and Mrs. Guinevere Young picked us up in their Model A car. A true classic if there ever was one. Two signs a car is a classic: 1) There is no air conditioner. 2) The car only goes about 35 mph. No air conditioner at 35 mph in 90+ degree weather and about 100% humidity equals lots of sweat. In case you didn’t know, sweat does not smell like flowers.

Everyone made it to the reception, except Bro. Ronnie Cathey, who would be officiating part of the ceremony. We waited….we waited a little longer, and finally Bro. Barry and I decided it was time to get the show on the road. Luckily for everybody present the entire wedding party had been in at least one wedding before so the rehearsal didn’t take too terribly long. And don’t worry about Bro. Ronnie. He finally showed up. Turns out, he got caught in Durant, MS (it’s not even worthy googling so don’t waste your time) at the train tracks. I can count on one hand how many times I have seen a train pass through Durant.

We all headed out to the lake house to enjoy a little bit of Louisiana by way of a shrimp boil and some IBC root beer, cooked by my cousin, Michael, and a true Cajun, Mr. Merrill Fisher. After dinner we had toasts speeches, which if I could go back and do over, I probably wouldn’t. It was quite embarrassing to sit there while everybody looked at you. I didn’t have a clue where to look, so most of the evening I looked at the pile of shrimp carcasses on my plate.

We finished up and said our goodbyes or see you laters. Then it was time to tell Paul goodbye – for the last time as his girlfriend and fiancee.