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Wedding Watchers

Leslie Brown

Now I have heard of “Wedding Crashers”, and I have heard of “Weight Watchers”, because Gramma Bobbie was forever dieting, but I had never heard of “Wedding Watchers”.

It ‘s the simple things in life. I’m pretty much pedigreed “trailer trash”. I’m just kidding, let me explain. My great aunt and uncle had a mobile home dealership in Alamogordo, New Mexico when I was growing up.

When my brilliant daddy graduated high-school early at age sixteen, after the school had to MAKE up classes for him in math because he was so smart, he began “pulling trailers”. At age sixteen, my daddy was behind the wheel of an eighteen wheeler delivering mobile homes…out of state.

Can you just imagine nowadays, a teen-aged boy behind the wheel of an EIGHTEEN WHEELER??? Most kids probably can’t COUNT that high anymore; at least without removing their shoes AND socks. That’s what a good and responsible kid my daddy was. His younger brother later joined him “pulling trailers” and the two both went on to get their Ph.D’s; my daddy’s in math.

I was able to spend a lot of time on the aforementioned mobile home dealership lot playing with cousins. Let me tell you, there is no better “little girl heaven” than being able to play in your CHOICE of brand-new, decorated and FURNISHED (NOT Ethan Allen furniture, but ALLEN WRENCH). This was before “silk” flowers even, so the homes were tastefully appointed with with unyielding plastic fruit in bowls, and plastic flower arrangements. Geez, we could even choose our “color scheme”….and the SMELL of a new mobile home….it just don’t get no better.

Now the OTHER side of my family is rife with trailers too, but that’s another story. Suffice it to say, that my beautiful, and hilarious cousin (who is like a sister to me) and I loooooovvvve to go look at new mobile homes. Now mind you, her daughter’s recent wedding cost more than my HOUSE (literally), but it’s a sicko little thing we love to do. Unfortunately, nowadays they have to make sure you are LEGIT to look at mobile homes and they want to know your “price range”, blah, blah, blah and you practically have to leave a D.N.A. sample. It’s just no fun anymore.

My point is that it is the simple things in life that are indeed the best. My husband and I live in a town, that doesn’t even have a stop-light. We have one restaurant, one “grocery store”,(if you can call it that), it’s really more like a we-ran-outta-beer-or-cigarettes-store. From our house we may hear a cow “moo”, an ubiquitous rooster, turkey, or one of the two roaming, mated peacocks. It’s pretty random seeing a beautiful peacock in full plumage walking around in, let’s say in a little “dump” of a town of about 1,300 (plus or minus depending on parole hearings).

The video today is about some ladies, and a gentleman from Brooklyn, New York who for 40 years have gone to the Grand Army Plaza on Saturdays (with a lunch) to be “wedding watchers”. They soak up the joy of the moment and the beauty of the brides, so full of hope and promise, and beaming on their most special of days.

Maybe it’s the contrast of the peacocks against the background of abandoned cars, furniture, and dilapidated shacks that make them all the more beautiful.


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