Uncle Festus Attends a Weddin'

This is the wedding season, and I thought you might like to read what an upscale wedding would look like through the eyes of a mountaineer who lived all his life in a mountain hollow (or “the holler").

Dear Nephew Cletus,

Well, I done it again, left the holler fer the second time this year. If this keeps up yer gonna hafta call me a real jet setter.

I went to mah grandson’s weddin and what a shindig it was! They does weddins different than they used to, and I thought you might like to hear ‘bout it.

It was a outdoor weddin. I found out they don’t play traditional songs no more. Some country western guy was croonin’ some song I ain’t never heerd when the bride walked down the aisle.

You wouldn’t believe the music at the reception neither. It about busted out mah earballs. Sounded like the natives was restless, with them drums a thumpin.

Last spring when I went to that grad-ye-ation out East, do you member how I noticed the economy was bad cause the wimmen wuz wearin’ what looked like little girls’ dresses? They ain’t got ‘nuff material to go round, so they hafta skimp on what they wear. Well, it ain’t got much better, cause the wimmen down south wears ‘em too. But folks wuz good not to laugh at em, just like the folks out East.

Ya oughta see the food them rich folks served at the weddin. Food I didn’t even know whut it wuz. Somethin like fill-a-men-yawn. Only I wasn’t yawnin’.

Them that stayed round after the meal was real entertainin. Member when me and Aunt Maude used to glide around the room to waltz music when we was young? They don’t do thet no more. Them poor young folks probly wore out their clothes from the inside, the way they wuz jumpin round. What with them drums poundin, I spect they all will be deef in a year or two.

They don’t throw rice no more neither, Cletus. When the bride an groom left, they lit Fourth of Joo-ly sparklers! It wuz right purty.

Well, I enjoyed myself at the weddin, in spite of diff’rent ways a doin thangs. But I’m always glad to git back to the holler, where normal folks live. Y’all come see us sometime.

Yours truly,

Uncle Festus