Funerals and weddings

Saturdays are normally the day for weddings at the church around the corner built in 1300. Neighbors check out the bridal party, far simpler than those in the US.

I use to hate it when any of my staff, no matter how intelligent, got engaged. Women’s IQs disappeared as they emerged themselves in menus, music and color of shoes and dresses and forgot copy deadlines, meetings and anything work related. Only when the chemicals in their wedding ring reversed their mental reduction did they once again they become efficient.

In Europe the only valid wedding is the one in city hall. A thousand church ceremonies would still not be legal. Often the couple is first married by the mayor then comes goes to the church for the religious service, although it is not always the same day. Attendants are usually just witnesses, a couple for each, although there may be children dressed up to serve the bride and groom. I have seldom seen bridesmaids.

A reception for neighbors and casual friends will have simple nibblies and perhaps sangria with one champagne toast. When Caroline of the second green grocer's I frequent was married, the customers were invited. Then those close to the bride and groom will have a sit-down dinner.

This Saturday instead of a wedding, we had the second funeral for the week. Friends sign the guest book on a table outside the church. If there is no church service the table and book is left outside the house. After the service the coffin is put into the hearse and attendees walk behind it to the cemetery (about a five minute walk. If it is an old Catalan, the men will walk first, followed by the women.

French cemeteries often have above ground burial houses. The name of the “defunct” is often marked with ceramic books, showing their photos and messages: Love from your children, Thoughts from the team, Regrets, etc. The saddest are the young, when ceramic books from school mates are added to the families’. Walking through and reading the different plaques tells a bit of the history of the person to those who never met him or her, and if one can’t guess at the dynamics behind the family, there is ample room for imagination.

This Saturday, the church steps cleared of the mourners to make way for a wedding. Maybe tomorrow their will be a baptism, bringing the song the Three Bells of Piaf (and later Tina Arena) to life.