For years, I have wanted a wedding reception with a big white tent. I have always been drawn to them. I would watch Father of the Bride and wish that my wedding reception would be just like Annie's. I remember asking my dad if I could have my reception in a tent. He barely thought about it. We live in Ohio. The weather is pretty unpredictable. There would be rain. It would be hot. We'd have to bring in everything. Tables. Chairs. Dance floor. How would food be prepared? How much would this cost? Bathrooms? Back to the weather. It would rain. Then what would we do? OK dad. You know better. I'm only 25. What do I know? I know that I have no money to help pay for this event. Sure Dad. Whatever you say. No tent. No biggie. Maybe I'll have a girl someday.
Finally, 10 years almost to the day. I went to my first wedding with a beautiful white tent. It was gorgeous. We were on the lake. There was a beautiful sunset. We sat by a fire and watched the sun set while a band played in the background in my tent. The bride even had fireworks. Can you believe that? Real. Loooooong. Fireworks. Who does that in real life? A girl with a big white tent or a daddy who will pay for both.
Guess what I learned during the fireworks? I swear I had a moment. It all doesn't matter. The tent doesn't matter. The fireworks do not matter. None of it does. It is all fluff. The money is spent and when it is all over, we have nice memories. But that's it. It has nothing at all to do with the marriage and the love. My dad was right. Let's keep it simple and classy. Let's not get too crazy, Indy. No white tent. You were right Dad. Let's have everyone there we love. Let's have it down the street from our country church. Let's make it fun. It was. Ten years later, I realize that it is more fun to attend a reception in a white tent that to plan one. Thank you, Dad.