I showed up at the wedding with every intention of being the consummate professional harpist for my friend's wedding. And it worked for a little while. I unloaded the harp, greeted Marti and Martha, we warmed up, I conferred with the priest...and then Sam came out in his tuxedo.
And I lost it. LOST it. Couldn't even hide the tears, the sniffles, the sobs.
It didn't get any better once the ceremony started. I was so flustered I even forgot to play the Celtic Alleluia (the Celtic Alleluia, of all things). I quickly blew through (no pun intended) the only ragged tissue I could find balled up in the bottom of my purse. A very kind woman from the congregation passed me her embroidered handkerchief. It was soaked through in a couple of minutes.
Beautiful ceremony. So much love. Happiness.
I was just thinking, "I wish I had a photo of the girls from the Celtic Band performing at the wedding," but then thought better of it. When I cry, it's not a pretty sight. You know those romantic movie heroines who can sob and sob and look delicate and vulnerable? Not me. Nope.
I managed to pull myself together by the time we performed Sam's original composition for the recessional. Which was based on a tune from a video game...which was just fine with his wife Jess. Good woman. And for the postlude, we sneaked in a few rounds of "I Buried My Wife and Danced On Her Grave" just for fun. (Jess doesn't know about this, though...hee hee).
The Celtic Band, with Sam as dressed up as you'll ever see him.Handsome bloke, no?
I do have a photo that will shock you, though. I felt like a National Geographic photographer when I captured this rare occurrence...
...SamTheDrummer TALKING.
Not only will you never see me dressed up like that again (I don't think I've worn anything but Vans slip ons since that day), you will never hear me talk again either.
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