I blogged recently about the rocky state of my cousin's marriage. This particular cousin -- a very recently returned missionary -- had married an eighteen-year-old "woman" for time and all eternity. And, speaking of eternal marriages, if a woman isn't old enough to purchase 3.2 beer legally, why in the world would any sane religion allow her to make a decision to unite with anyone for time and all eternity in one of its temples?
My own immediate family was not invited to the wedding. We couldn't have gone, anyway, since it took place inside one of he Holy Temples of the Lord (in Manti, Utah, of all places) but we weren't even invited to the reception. I wouldn't have attended even had I been invited because of the likely presence of an aunt and uncle I wish never to see again, but my parents would have made a token appearance. My parents received an announcement someone made up on his computer retroactively (my new buzzword; Thanks, Willard!) because my parents are always good for a monetary gift.
Anyway, the bride's maiden name is a common one in Utah, so my dad didn't really think twice about it, but he eventually learned that the bride's father was his former missionary companion in South America many years ago. The former missionary companion -- the bride's father -- was a relatively lucid and decent individual as my father remembered him, so Dad decided to go against his principles of staying the hell out of the family's perpetual dirty laundry factory. He said he owed it to the eighteen-year-old who didn't know any better and had gotten herself into a situation way over her head. He called her father yesterday.
The first part of my dad's call to The Father of the Bride was spent rehashing The Good Old Days. At some point the purpose of the call was revealed. The man told my dad that he hadn't wanted his daughter to get married to my cousin to the extent that he had refused to pay for any of it. His rationale was that he would ultimately need the money he might spend on the wedding to pay for the dissolution. The man ended up being more of a prophet than any one of those Living Dead Geriatrocities in Salt Lake city has ever been.
The groom's family has been calling in favors in trying to convince the bride to reconcile with her Peter Priesthood husband. They even came up with the money for the couple to have cable (the bride's choice - the husband wanted Direct TV; isn't it sweet that he was willing to give in on such an important issue?) AND
a TV. The bride was almost convinced to give the nine-day-old eternal marriage another go until her father reminded her that The Toilet Paper Conflict had yet to be resolved.
My dad told his former missionary companion that he should treat the situation as though his daughter were Katie Holmes trying to escape the Scientological clutches of Tom Cruise. They should run, not walk, to the nearest court and they should seek restraining orders while waiting for the annulment to take effect, because the particular branch of the family is bat-shit crazy.
to be continued, obviously