Indulgences of a big Italian wedding
Posted Nov 27, 2009 By Kimberly Lochhead
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Tweet ThisEMC Editorial Like the scene from the movie Goodfellas, I watched a cluster of suited Italian men surround a blue cloth bag. My best friend whispered to me that there was "at least $20,000 in it."
He had invited me to his sister's wedding as his date and began telling me the dirt on a few guests before he was whisked away for groomsmen duties.
Since he was in the wedding party, I didn't get a chance to speak with him until the dance floor lit up. We've been friends since kindergarten and I knew his extended family well, so being a background date didn't phase me at all.
As I continued into the Italian Hall, balancing my fragile gift, purse and place card, I was stopped by more groomsmen, guarding the way to the reception room with a large tray of shots. I downed two to their excitement and made my way to my table.
After a hectic day, I deserved it. The night before I had driven six hours after work and woke up for an early morning hair appointment, then dashed off to purchase crystal candlestick holders (cliché wedding gift, I know, but I was pressed for time and they are quite pretty), dressed and primped for the church by 12:30 p.m.
My best friend is Italian to the core. His mother had fed me plates of pasta cooked in their second kitchen, located in the basement. His father was intimidating, but allowed us to use his garage to hang out in during high school. I went to dance school with his older sister, who was sweet and kind with long, beautiful dark hair. We had all attended the elementary school adjoining the church and I was hit with a rush of nostalgia sitting in the old wooden pews, staring at the book of hymns.
It was like Grade 6 all over again as I counted the Medieval-like wrought iron lighting fixtures dangling from the vaulted arch ceiling overhead. This time, I couldn't whisper to him or goof off or have contests to see who could hold the communion wafer in their mouth the longest before it dissolved.
This time, his sister was getting married and it felt weird, though the ceremony was beautiful, simple and sweet.
Back to the reception, I sat beside a very kind elderly couple that has been married for 52 years. We talked about how they met, emigrated from Italy and created a family in Canada. He had won her over with his charm, although she said she thought he was initially too short for her.
Then, the feast began. First, the antipasto with prosciutto and pizza bread, then pasta, meatballs and sausage. Next came a garden salad, roasted chicken and potatoes, followed by steak sirloin and vegetables. I had to stop myself after the meatball course or I wouldn't have room for the dessert.
A few hours later, the cake was cut and served with cannoli, assorted pastries and pizza. And with a full stomach, a few cousins, bridesmaids and finally my best friend, I danced to a random variety of Sinatra, Elvis and traditional waltzes well into the early hours of the morning.
