The Wedding Singer

Recently, I’ve found myself in a few social situations where the particular story I am about to tell comes up. And, it just so happens to be my twelfth wedding anniversary today, which is exactly when the story evolved. My husband says it feels more like twenty-five years rather than twelve, I could argue it feels more like thirty-five, but then again, it seems just like yesterday I was busy planning and getting squared away for the big wedding weekend.

Growing up in Jackson, Mississippi, I was blessed with many friends and acquaintances in our tight knit bubble of a community. One of them happened to be a boy named Justin, who attended a nearby rival school. We weren’t close in high school, but we ran in the same circles and attended the same field parties on the weekends, where he would always greet my group of girlfriends and anyone he encountered with a genuine smile and friendly hug. He was authentically kind, full of laughter, and seemed pretty happy-go-lucky anytime I was around him. He went on to graduate high school a year before me and headed to Ole Miss where he would endure pledging and the first season of his college football career. A year later, I would join him in Oxford as an eager freshman, and our collegiate journey would eventually intertwine to make him one of my closest and favorite friends of all time.

With each passing year, our friendship circle grew tighter, and by the time our last years of college approached, we were thick as thieves. For whatever reason, we almost always bonded over music. Whether it was listening to a CD he burned of classic eighties hits while we drove to nearby casinos or bellowing out Smokey Robinson’s “Tracks of My Tears” at a late-night karaoke party off the Square, we’d sing and laugh and crack ourselves up along the way. One night we were dissecting the Beach Boys’ Greatest Hits and discussing the genius of Brian Wilson and his influence on the Beatles that we thought it would be a wonderful idea to call his father and hear his take on it. I’m still not sure how his father felt about our enthusiastic two a.m. phone call with all our friends screaming and laughing in the background, but I digress. Our last year of college finally lined up because Justin was redshirted from the start, and we typically found ourselves in front of a karaoke machine at our friend Eli’s apartment after a well fought SEC football game.

Now, I was always much shier than Justin when it came to karaoke, but after a couple of cocktails, he could convince me to sing with him- usually a Sonny and Cher duet. If I was feeling brave, I’d stick around and give my rendition of the 60’s classic “Runaround Sue”, then he’d finish off the night with a spot-on impersonation of Louis Armstrong’s “Mack the Knife” or Boston’s “More Than a Feeling”. Needless to say, Justin took his singing very seriously and actually hit more notes than not. We karaoked through graduation, then through trying to figure out the next steps in life.

After a couple of years back in Jackson and a fun stint in Destin, Florida, Justin was offered a job in Dallas, Texas, while I decided I needed to start my adult life in Nashville, Tennessee. Though we went in opposite directions, we remained close friends as we navigated the real world, attempted to become grown-ups, and eventually met and settled down with our spouses (shout out to Natalie who is a saint of a woman). After dating my now husband for a few years (and making sure he’d jibe with my friends like Justin), we became engaged. As I began picking and planning the wedding party, I just knew I had to find a special place for my friend.

My husband had plenty of groomsmen while I had a gaggle of bridesmaids. I considered putting him in as an usher, but that didn’t work. Eventually, I found the perfect place. He’d be a reader! Justin wasn’t afraid of the spotlight, so surely he’d read a bible verse in the church ceremony. I'd give him a short Psalm or something he could fumble through.

As soon as the idea came to me, I called my friend and discussed his potential role with him. I remember it like it was yesterday. I said to him, “So, if you aren’t comfortable, I will completely understand, and I’ll just invite you to everything the wedding party is invited to. I want you to be a part of the wedding day regardless. I want to know if you would read at the wedding?”

Justin lightly chuckled through the phone. I could hear him thinking as I waited for his response. “I think I just want to want to be invited to everything. Is that okay?”

I was honestly surprised by his choice as I had never known Justin to be shy, but I respected his wishes and said something along the lines of, “Totally get it. Okay, then you will just be there at the rehearsal dinner and ceremony with everyone else.” It was settled. While Justin wouldn’t officially be in the wedding, he would be included in everything the wedding party was…even part of the bachelorette party.

About four or five months passed, and the wedding weekend finally arrived. By that time, I was exhausted by flower and menu choices, reply card responses, my mother’s opinion on peppercorns, and the hundreds of decisions I had to make. A few hours before the rehearsal dinner, I found myself, alone, at my house, getting dressed for the celebratory night. It was the first moment of stillness among the craziness of wedding planning that I had experienced in weeks…maybe months. I was so used to planning and doing and working and addressing that I didn’t know what to do when I just sat still. The quietness of it all was completely deafening. So, I did what any bride to be would do, and I panicked. I wouldn’t call it a runaway bride situation but more of a complete “I am so overwhelmed it is my wedding weekend” moment. At that point I had been in twenty-four weddings (not a lie, and I consider it an honor by the way), so I knew the drill, but it had never been about me. Let’s be honest…I am much better in a supporting role.

In the deafening stillness, I took a deep breath and walked through the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine to calm my nerves, but there was no wine. I looked in the cabinets to see if there was anything to make a cocktail- nothing. I opened the refrigerator to grab one of my fiancé’s beers- empty shelves. In all my busy, running around, last minute wedding planning, I had forgotten to stock anything in my own home. So, I did the next best thing and called Justin who just so happened to be staying around the corner at our friend Amzie’s house. He immediately answered the phone, and the conversation went something like this:

“Justin- I need you to bring me a drink.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m freaking out. I need something to calm my nerves. I don’t know what to do!”

“Um. Okay… we’ll be over soon.”

After I waited a few minutes, the two former Ole Miss linebackers, Justin and Amzie, appeared at my front door with a cranberry vodka concoction. (Not my first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers in that situation). Looking back, I am sure they were less than thrilled that a crazy bride- to-be was on the other side ready to greet them. I can only assume they would have rather taken on the Crimson Tide’s offense one more time than deal with a dramatic girl about to walk down the aisle. I welcomed them inside and stood in my perfectly planned rehearsal dinner dress with freshly done hair and makeup and sipped the cranberry concoction, careful not to spill on my white dress, while they told me about their day and pretended that I wasn’t panicking.

I appreciated the normalcy from my friends and welcomed the big brother, familiarity (and cocktail) that calmed my nerves. As we discussed the events to come, it hit me that Justin and I had never discussed him politely turning down the role of scripture reader on the big day, so I thought I’d ask. “Justin, you know it really surprised me that you didn’t want to read at the wedding. I mean, I completely respect and understand you not wanting to be up there in front of everyone, but it just surprised me.”

Justin’s head tilted as he looked back at me, cracked his genuine smile, then laughed out loud before he responded, “Read? You wanted me to read?”

“Well, yeah. I wanted you to read a bible verse or something. What did you think I wanted you to do?”

Justin laughed again, “This whole time I thought you wanted me to SING!”

At that point I either spit out my drink or howled with laughter at the thought of Justin singing in front of a packed sanctuary in the conservative First Presbyterian Church of Nashville, Tennessee. Images of him belting out 80’s hair band classics by the altar flashed through my mind, and I couldn’t stop laughing. It was exactly what I needed to clear the complete overwhelm I had going into such a big weekend. And isn’t that the gift of a true friend-someone that unintentionally makes your fears and overwhelm disappear out of thin air simply by being their silly selves?

Like I mentioned in the start, I have recently found myself retelling the story of Justin, the Wedding Singer, and it almost always brings me to tears with laughter. I hope after you read this, you remember one of those people in your life that instantly brings happiness and joy when you think of them. What a wonderful gift true friendship can be, and who knows… maybe if Justin’s day job doesn’t work out, he can finally become an official wedding singer. Hell, I may even take on the role of his booking agent.

Fifty-Nine Fingers…and a Few Updates