Ann and James were in love. They were going to get married in July. They had known each other since they were in the third grade. They were both 20 years old. True love was something that Ann and James knew everything about. There was hardly anything they disagreed about. Even when they disagreed, they settled the disagreement in such a way that both were totally happy. This was truly a match made in heaven.
They had already made plans for the wedding. It was going to be a big wedding. Every relative from both families had already been notified about the date. All their friends knew about the big day. The invitations were already printed. The priest, the church, the reception hall, and the limousine service were ready to go.
Nothing was being left to chance. This was going to be the happiest day of their lives. Ann had gone to several wedding web sites for ideas and help. Of course, she had also consulted her mother, grandmothers, aunts, and married friends about how to plan the perfect wedding.
Each one of them tried to tell her that there was no such thing as a perfect wedding. There was always at least one thing, or more usually one person, that made the wedding a seeming disaster at the time. But of course, like the disaster that happens on one’s vacation, that incident or person would be what makes the wedding more memorable.
“Oh, you should have been at my wedding,” said Aunt Mabel to Ann. “My brother James was in charge of the rings that Kyle and I were going to exchange. On the wedding day, James presented the ring to Kyle, who put it on my finger. An hour later at the reception, I took the ring off to admire it and read the inscription. I gasped. The jeweler had spelled my name ‘Mable’ as in table. My name, as you know, dear, is spelled Mabel as in label. So I went to the ladies’ room and cried for almost half an hour. No one could console me.”
“So, the moral of the story, my dear,” chimed in Aunt Prudence, “is to make sure that Uncle James isn’t in charge of getting your rings engraved. Not that you would have a problem. How could anyone misspell your name—it only has three letters, and two of them are the same.”
“Aunt Prudence, you know that isn’t true,” said Ann. “Half the people I know spell my name with an ‘e.’ But, Uncle James is not in charge of our rings, so I’m not worried.”