Wedding Gowns, Wedding Dancing

Wedding Dancing by Robin Lord
For those who have not seen Austin Powers, the word "mojo," which originally meant "a charm or spell," now means either "sex appeal" or "a touch of magic or charm." I use it in the latter sense to refer to the celebratory appeal of weddings, and most particularly to impressions drawn during the recent attendance of my niece's wedding.

I must confess that I tend to zone out during such occasions, so nothing seemed unusual as the finery of the crowd settled into the pews, and the bride beamed up the aisle to meet with the reverend's sincere and passionate guidance toward the promises of marriage. But at one point during the recitation of the vows, the bride — my niece — politely barked "Say it to me" at the groom, who smiled contritely and complied. The crowd's laughter and the reverend's smile stirred my complacency into a condition of curiosity, and that was when I decided to observe the occasion in light of its "mojo" factor.

It struck me that a bride sees her vows as a promise of devotion, while a groom sees his, at least in part, as a loss of freedom. My own observation is that a bride usually presents herself with vivacity and poise, while a groom often projects nervousness and doubt. As for this particular bride, her charismatic smile and air of confidence seemed potent enough to quickly and irrevocable dissipate whatever traces of anxiety the groom may have temporarily encountered. One could not help but admire her infectious magnetism. To describe it would be tedious, so suffice it to say that she cheered the hall first with warmth and then with humor, and it set the tone for the remainder of the day.

A backyard photo session immediately followed, and I was afforded the opportunity to check out the bride's new ring, which appeared to present enough "carat" mojo to please both matrimonial and compensatory needs. From there, it was on to the reception, the locale of which seemed exceedingly remote, but then, at my age, breaching the town line is beyond convenient. It was dark by the time Mother and I crossed the bridge into Salem, and the sketchy directions on the invitation put us somewhere south of our destination, which was emblazoned in fancy letters as the "Hawthorne Hotel."

Directions in broken English from a foreign vendor delivered us just outside the square, and a dog-walking gentleman directed us toward the hotel marquis, but after circling twice around the block, I realized that the parking garage was my only option. Guiding Mother's slow, unsteady pace down the ramp onto a dark cobblestone path and then along two blocks of uneven sidewalk left my celebratory mojo at a low point. I escorted her across the street, through the lobby and to the powder room.

The sequence of festivities is somewhat sketchy, but I remember how the best man's toast carried a "welcome to the family" motif, whereas the maid of honor's toast focused more on keeping the groom in line. As a lifelong confidante of the bride, it was her job to point out (albeit much more diplomatically) how the groom was one lucky (expletive for "dude"), and how he would need to answer to her — the maid of honor — if he strayed from the straight and narrow. Her "friendship" mojo gets high marks in my book, but more importantly, her presentation was potent enough to give our side the tactical advantage.

Out on the dance floor the ladies' moves would have invoked accusations of demonic possession during centuries past, but most of the men moved with rigor. What was missing was "Dancin' Harry" (the nickname for my departed dad), whose moves can best be described as "devilish." The ladies at the table invited me to dance, but my "boogie" mojo had vanished some years back when I stopped drinking. Nowadays, I would rather streak naked through the streets than display my lack of mojo on the dance floor. I preferred to observe, and I was impressed with how the mojo of "Dancing Queen" has held up through decades' worth of weddings.

As the hour drew late and I readied Mother to leave, I thought about giving the bride a send-off hug so that some of her "vivacity" mojo might rub off on me, but then I realized that it could work the other way around and some of my "grumpy old man" mojo might rub off on her. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.wedding Viewpoint
Robin Lord