I’ve Been Immortalized

As a preacher type, I get asked to perform quite a few wedding ceremonies. I’ve done so many over the years that many of them have been conflated in my muddled brain to the point that I can’t tell them apart.

Every once in a while, however, something happens that causes one to stand out in my mind. For example, there was the time that one of the bridesmaids lost a shoe halfway down the aisle. (This was in a church building where the center aisle had heat registers. The customary white runner was covering them up, and the unlucky lass drove her heel down through it into a register. She walked out of the shoe and left it in the middle of the aisle.)

There are so many of these incidents that I’ve seriously considered writing a book about them. I suppose it’s been done before, but it might not hurt to add mine to the humorous wedding appendix. Let me think a little more about that.

Anyway, I just received an email from a happily married groom who was appreciative of my participation in his big day. He wrote the following:

Hi Pastor,

We really appreciated your being a part of our forever after! This attachment was carved by Harvey, my Best Man, and his wife Angela. Thought you would enjoy your immortalization. I hope there is no patent infringements with the original… LOL.

Again, thanks ever so much,

Jon and Iris

[Names have been changed to protect the innocent.]

I always enjoy hearing from a happy couple post-celebration (well, almost always), but this one was a big surprise. He had attached a picture of a wood carving in the likeness of Yours Truly. If I had racked my brain for fifty years, I couldn’t have come up with an idea like this one.

There I am in full regalia behind my little black preacher’s book adorned with the wedding rings on top. The likeness is rather… Well, it’s rather stunning. I have to admit, however, that it makes me look a little more Russian than Italian. Still, it’s quite novel.

My lovely Bride is always after me to pluck the wild hairs from my eyebrows. I’ve always fought her when she’s come after me with tweezers. Now, having seen the bushy nests above my squinty orbs, I can sympathize with her plight. The whittlers nailed the crow’s feet as well. The eyes have it.

It’s a bit eerie to think that my image now adorns someone’s book case or curio shelf (and probably will do so for the next several years). I can only imagine the occasional conversations. “What’s that?” “Oh, that’s the guy who married us. Can’t remember his name, but that’s what he looked like.”

At this point, I can only hope for one thing better. Someday, I would like to be immortalized as a bobble-head doll. Although I must say, the wood carving could double as a chess piece. I’d make a great pawn.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and currently resides in Aldie, VA.]

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