The wedding this weekend was held at a fairly unique venue. A Yankee from New Jersey came south bought some land and decided it would make a beautiful wedding venue. To enhance its image he built a replica plantation house that could be rented out.
So let me paint you the picture here - we have a Yankee from New Jersey who comes and buys land in the deep south, builds a big white house with Corinthian columns and puts porticoes around it, calls it a plantation, and rents it out to us southerners for exorbitant rates - which some idiots pay. Talk about selling ice to the Eskimos.
And, of course, as always the Yankee is determined to civilize us "heathens" and bring culture to the backwoods of the rural south. Please define " culture". We are seated in white chairs on a wide expanse of green lawn over looking the pond (all man-made to fit the ante-bellum theme) for the nuptials. Throughout the ceremony the preacher has to pause due to the loud revving of engines that can be heard from the near-by drag strip (some good 'ol boy flavor the Yankee didn't quite count on.)
As the preacher announces the bride and groom and they start making their way up the aisle, a loud boom goes off. Some true Old South flare? A friend sitting near by nonchalantly says, "Oh, that's Trish." I look at her. "What do you mean Trish?",knowing who she was referring to but not having a clue what Trish had to do with the near sonic boom we just heard. "That was Trish's cannon." I looked at her totally perplexed. "She has three cannons and she likes to shoot them at special occasions, like ball games, and the births of her grandchildren." "And weddings," I added. "Especially weddings," our friend said.
The venue may have been owned by a Yankee, but how much more southern can you get than a wedding in the shadow of a white house built for show, interrupted by the Saturday evening noises of the local drag strip and highlighted by the boom of a real cannon. Even an entrepreneuring Yankee can't come up with this much color.