Anyone ever watched the movie “Father of the Bride?”

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of Amanda Russell and Michael Dillard at six o’clock, Saturday the 29th of May, two thousand and ten, at the home of Ida and Jay Russell; LaGrange, Georgia.”

Throw up any red flags?

Memorial Day weekend is traditionally associated the kickoff of summer which means hot and humid with a good chance of strong afternoon thunder storms; a bad combination for a back yard wedding with no cover. However, daughters have a knack of manipulating dads to do the illogical.

The big day started early with some yard tidying, house cleaning, and trips to a variety of stores for wedding essentials. Pre-wedding parties began around 11 a.m. with the bride’s family and friends at Poppie’s swimming pool and the groom’s crew at Lake Ida. My understanding is that fun was had by all at both venues, but I was unable to witness either first hand as I was setting up 163 chairs in an odd configuration that my child had requested in the 90-something temperature and humidity. Subsequently, 25 rather heavy tables were strategically placed for the barbecue reception which would follow the ceremony. Add to this the hauling of the essentials previously mentioned and 2 o’clock (four hours to go) had arrived.

Between 2 and 3 p.m., a few ominous clouds began to form in the southern sky. Rain would mean that all of the tasks completed in the early afternoon would be for naught. Everything would have to be moved and reset under a tent that was hoisted over the parking area adjacent to the garage (plan B). If it monsooned, the festivities would be squeezed inside the house (plan C). Flexibility was a critical component when planning the event but when it is three hours from the ceremony the desire to be pliable vanishes.

Around 3:30 my spouse was becoming increasingly concerned about the impending threat of rain so she pulled out her laptop, placed it on our kitchen bar, and connected to weather.com. The first prognostication read indicated a 70 percent of rain at 6 p.m. Every 15 minutes the forecast updated and without fail the chance of rain steadily climbed. At 4:30 the percentage maxed out at 100 percent for the 6 o’clock hour. I suggested to my daughter that it was time to make the decision to move and she tearfully replied, “Daddy, please wait a little longer.” I said, “Ok, we will decide by 5.”

In the meantime the deejay and the florist came rolling in wanting direction. Guests who had traveled long distances were showing up an hour early. Then, the main entrance doorknob came off in my hand while I was exiting. Talk about multitasking! To the deejay and florist, “We are still outside for now.” To the out-of-town guests, “Have a seat and enjoy a beverage.” The doorknob was repaired by my daughter’s stepdad after an extensive search for the proper hex key.

Five o’clock was upon us and the 100 percent precipitation prediction had not wavered. My daughter sadly asked for 15 more minutes before moving. I cowardly bowed to her request knowing that 25 tablecloths and multiple floral arrangements needed placing. Miraculously, at 5:20 the skies began to brighten so two sons and I - three guys without a clue - started adorning tables with white linens. The florist followed closely with her splendid arrangements. All was in place by 5:40. The only issue remaining was that the father of the bride still had on a Kool and the Gang T-shirt, stained shorts and nasty shoes. He was unshaven and odorous. No problem: Into the shower and dressed in an olive striped searsucker suit and saddle oxfords in 10 minutes.

I was able to visit with my lovely daughter for a few minutes, offer her an escape if she was not sure, stroll with her past a wall displaying several family wedding pictures, pause in a bedroom to speak to photographs of my late parents, and then march her to the nervous groom. A kiss, a handshake, a wish for God’s speed and then retirement to a seat to hold my wife’s hand and observe as my No. 1 daughter expressed her dependence on another man. I had a selfish sense of emptiness watching her symbolically depart but at the same time I experienced a selfless feeling of fullness observing her joy.

“I now pronounce you man and wife”; hundreds of snap shots; a delicious dinner under the black gum tree; the traditional dances with an occasional spit of rain and temps in the low 80s. Someone had divine connections.

Around half past 8 the showers came (tradition states that rain on your wedding day brings good fortune) and the celebration moved to the shelter of the tent. At 10:30 the bride and groom departed under a barrage of watergun fire and the formalities were complete. My better half and I finally found one another an hour later and had a chance to dance for a few moments and reminisce about the crazy day that turned out to be “perfect.”

Then we started cleaning up.