Father of the Bride Archives

Farmers' Almanac has a Worst Wedding Weather contest. Entrants wrote about their weather-related nuptial catastrophes. You can vote on the worst one. One of the entries is by a couple from High Point whose wedding coincided with Hurricane Fran in 1996. You can read the entry here.

We ran a Charlotte Observer story about it in the N&O.

This is why it is a good idea to have that Troy-Bilt generator listed in your gift registry. $698 at Lowe's.

We get to Crabtree last night, and as we park, we discover that both of us have forgotten the name of the tux place. We knew it was at Crabtree, so that was something. On the map thingie  there are two formalwear places.

We find the first one and give them Travis' name. Then we both forget exactly how to spell it, the last name, Holtzhauser. H-o-l-t.....I look at George...S? Z? He's no help. Hey, it's not an easy name.

Eventually, the guy figures out that we are at the wrong place.

So back to the map. We go looking for the right store, get lost several times, eventually find it. The guy behind the counter is wearing the tape measure around his shoulders. He finds Travis' file in the computer and says take your shirts off. He measures this way and that for the pants, vest and jacket. No cummerbund. OK by me, because they make me look like a head waiter.

How tall are you, he asks me. George starts to laugh. I am 5'8", but for some reason, I always thought I was taller than that, maybe 5'10". As George grew up, he was aware like kids are of how tall he was getting, and when he became 5'10", he realized that he was looking down at me.

There is a time in every son's life when it hits him that his father is a goofball, and that was the time. He is now 6', wiry strong, and able to walk up behind me and lift me up in a bear hug, which is something that he likes doing.

How's business, I ask tape-measure guy. Pretty good, he says. Prom season. That was the extent of the small talk. He was all brisk business and efficiency. I try to make up a story in my mind about him. How does one wind up in the tux business? But he does not invite curiousity.

We sign a lot of paperwork and hear all the wherefores and whatnots. Renting a tux is not a casual transaction. Evidently, the tux industry has a fleet of lawyers who try to think of every bad thing that can happen to the suit. It is not hard to imagine that a lot of bad things can happen, given that liquor is consumed at tux-required events.

He says come by on June 5 and pick it up. Bring it back the day after the wedding or the meter starts running at twenty bucks a day. Got it, I say.

We head for the food court. That is my tux story.

George, my 18-year-old, calls a little while ago. This is a transcript of the conversation for the FOTB archives.

Him: What are you doing?

Me:  Working so as to pay your tuition and rent at N.C. State, my second born.

Him:  Can you talk?

Me:  Yep.

Him:  What are you doing tonight?

Me:  Nothing special.

Him: Want to go get the tuxes?

Me:  OK.

Him: Do you want to go get something to eat first?  (i.e., want to buy me dinner?)

Me:  OK

Him:  So what time do you want to go?

Me:  How about 7.

Him:  You want to pick me up? You want to meet me there?

Me:  Why don't you come here.

Him: OK. Later.

 ************

So never mind about Saturday.  

Saturday I am going to get fitted for my tux. I am taking along George.  I haven't worn a tux in a long time. Maybe George and I will get our nails done afterwards. Or hit a sports bar and watch the tournament. 

One of our friends informed my wife the other day that if I didn't update this more frequently, she'd stop visiting the site.  Like I get paid extra for this. 

OK. I'm a little on edge, what with Red Sox ace Josh Beckett having a sore back and possibly not being able to start opening day. Sorry.

Far be it from me to disappoint.  I will try to be more consistent. 

Truth be told, we've been having kind of a lull on the wedding front, or else I've been distracted by, let's see, my paying job? 

There are 87 days until the wedding, and most everything is on schedule.  Katherine and Hilary went by the wedding hall with the caterer the other day to look at the logistics.  I couldn't get off work to go along.

That's all for now.

As you drill down into the details of the reception, you encounter questions about seating. One of the major questions that must be wrestled to the ground is sweetheart table vs. head table.

The sweetheart table is for the bride and groom only.  The head table is  more like what you would see at the annual Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinner, where all the leading party hacks are seated, only in this case, it's more like the immediate family.

 I like the idea of a sweetheart table, so the bride and groom have a chance to decompress a little and have some moments of privacy on a very hectic day.

There are other logistical issues involving the reception furniture.  What color will the tablecloths be? Where will the buffet be set up?  Where will they set up the bar?  Where will they put the cake, and how soon will it be served? The location of the dance floor?

One of the big question is not on the  wedding checklists: Should young marrieds rent or own?

Advantages of renting: Flexibility. If you think you might get transferred to Kalamazoo next year, rent.

Disadvantages:  No tax deductions, no equity buildup.  Limited space if you're starting a family soon.

Buying a home in this market is tricky. Yes, there are some bargains out there, but in a down market, you can't be sure that prices have bottomed.  That $200,000 house that seemed like a steal may drop to $190,000 next year, and then you're upside down on your mortgage.

Also:  Young marrieds sometimes have a tendency to buy more than they can afford, especially if they are counting on two incomes to make the monthly payment.

And, not to be condescending, but the real estate market puts a premium on knowledge and experience. Buying a house any time is a complicated transaction. The more you know, the less you pay. The less you know, the more you pay.

One thing you should always assume:  You are pretty much on your own.  The seller isn't looking out for your interests. The seller's real estate agent, by law, is looking out for the seller's interests.  That nice mortgage lender is looking to put you into a loan that is going to generate the largest possible fees. The  appraiser may be more concerned with getting repeat business from the mortgage company than whether the house is really worth that much.  

There are ways, with a little research, that you can find out if a house is really worth the list price. You can fairly easily find out what similar homes are selling for. You can shop around for the best mortgage. (Stay away from adjustable-rate mortgages with low, low teaser rates that have monster resets.  Do not believe anyone who says that you can easily refinance before the higher rate kicks in. That's part of what caused all the subprime mess.)

Make sure the attorney handling your settlement really knows how to do real estate transactions and isn't a bankruptcy lawyer who does a few closings every couple of years. And make sure you hire your own inspector to go over the house from top to basement, with particular attention to the roof and the mechanical systems).  

This is way more important than hiring a caterer.  Buying a house should not be done unadvisedly or  lightly, but discretely, advisedly and soberly. Kind of like marriage, only with more implications for your credit record.

A week ago, The New York Times took a break from its investigation of the GOP presidential frontrunner and what he did or didn't do with a hottie lobbyist nearly a decade ago to tell us about the latest trend:  Brides who want to look like hotties at the altar.

 Evidently, in the circles that the Times travels in, brides are wearing gowns that look a little like lingerie. These brides see their weddings as something akin to walking the red carpet at the Oscars.

The article was headlined: The Bride Wore Very Little.  

The lead art is of a bride zipping up her gown, which is not going to completely cover, it looks like, the tattoo on her lower back.  Well, well.  

The maid of honor and one of the bridesmaids are throwing a shower for Hilary. 

There are a bunch of web sites designed to help you plan a bridal shower. Evidently, it is more complicated than: Be at this address at such and such a time and we'll have finger food. 

You must have a theme. And games. And a poem.  

 There is an 11-step checklist at bridalshower.com. There's bridalshowertips.com.  There's allaboutshowers.com.  ebridalshowers.com.

 Unlike the bridesmaids' fitting, I am so not invited to this.

For some odd reason, I have been watching a lot of wedding movies, and it has occured to me that a lot of these involve a big scene at or close to the altar in which the bride (or groom) decides at the last minute that he or she really loves someone else. Or the guy who she really loves, at the last minute, swoops in and persuades her to ditch that jerk and ride off into the sunset with him.

For example: Sweet Home Alabama. Reese Witherspoon decides that she really doesn't want to marry the son of the mayor of New York (Candice Bergen), because she is still in love with her ex-husband (who she didn't legally, actually divorce.) In the ensuing chaos, Bergen insults Reese and her family, and Reese flattens her with one punch. At the altar.

For example: Four Weddings and a Funeral. Hugh Grant decides at the last minute that he really loves Andie McDowell and ditches his fiancee at the altar. In the ensuing chaos, the fiancee flattens him with one punch.

(Notice a trend?)

For example: The Wedding Planner. Matthew McConaughey decides at the last minute that he doesn't want to be married to his fiancee because he is in love with J-Lo, the wedding planner. It doesn't even get to the altar, rather, the moment of truth happens out on the street. No one gets flattened here, disappointingly.

For example: The Wedding Singer. Adam Sandler successfully proposes to Drew Barrymore after Billy Idol conspires to lock her bad-boy fiance in the bathroom of a jumbo jet. Yeah, it could happen.

For example: Wedding Crashers. Owen Wilson stands up in church and convinces Rachel McAdams to jilt her fiance. Vince Vaughan helps out by flattening the fiance, who is just about to dismember Owen Wilson. Good, back to people getting flattened.

And the all-time, at-the-altar, change-of-plans movie: The Graduate. Dustin Hoffman rescues Katharine Ross from following in her mother's liquored-up, adulterous footsteps. They escape in a city bus, if I recall correctly, to the strains of Simon and Garfunkel. This was 41 years ago, and it was nominated for seven Oscars.

Hilary got her invitations back from the printer. There is something about seeing your name at the top that makes your realize that this thing is going to happen in 110 days. 

Friday night,  although I missed it, a couple renewed their vows at the church, and Hilary played the piano for the singer.  

Saturday, Katherine and I went out to dinner to celebrate our 29th anniversary at Second Empire. I think this is a pretty good achievement, 29 years, but Saturday morning, in my column in the N&O, I wrote about a guy who has been married since 1940.

 This is what I looked like at David's Bridal.  Hilary put this on my Facebook page.  And, yes, I am a little old to have a Facebook page, but deal with it. 

At the Valentine's Day dinner Friday Saturday night at the church, Travis and his dad, Bill, told me that they're lining up the dance lessons. If you will recall, I said I wanted to be able to dance with my daughter on her wedding day - and, hey, my wife, too - and I need lessons because I can't dance.

I will keep you posted.

According to the Knot, the top 10 Classic First Dance Songs include:

"At Last," Etta James

"Unforgettable, " Nat King Cole

"The Way You Look Tonight," Frank Sinatra

"It Had to Be You," Harry Connick Jr.

"From This Moment," Shania Twain

"What a Wonderful World," Louis Armstrong

"Endless Love," Diana Ross and Lionel Ritchie

"Can't Help Falling in Love," Elvis Presley

"I Will," the Beatles

"As Time Goes By," from Casablanca

Worst First Dance Songs (my list):

1. "You Oughta Know", Alanis Morrisette

2. "Before He Cheats", Carrie Underwood

3. "Independence Day", Martina McBride

4. "Hit the Road, Jack", Ray Charles (Actually, the Raelettes were the relevant part. Ray was mostly just reacting to being told to not let the door slam him on the backside.)

5. "So Much for my Happy Ending," Avril Lavigne

6. "Love is a Battlefield," Pat Benatar

7. "Goodbye, Earl," Dixie Chicks

8. "I Hate Myself for Loving You," Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

9. "You're No Good," Linda Ronstadt

10. "Nothing Compares 2 You," Sinead O'Connor

I see a Time-Life infomercial for a three-CD set, hosted by Sinead and Alanis, a really  angry infomercial.  

We're working through the same thing.  Here's a passage from his speech yesterday, courtesy of the Politico web site:

"You know, Mr. Leader, I used to think that leading a group of strong-willed senators was one of the toughest jobs in the country. I may have found one even tougher one: father of the bride. You know, I told Laura I was going to say that and she said, well, you might add another one: son-in-law to the president." -- Bush this morning at CPAC