Bark and I planned a
simple, elegant wedding. Since we'd already broken
tradition by purchasing a house and moving in together,
we also wanted to pay for our own wedding. Our budget
was small, however, so we decided to hold the ceremony
and reception at home. The wedding would take
place in mid-May. If our Pacific Northwest climate
cooperated, we'd exchange vows in our backyard, amid
fallen apple and cherry blossoms. If it rained
that day, all sixty-five guests would end up crammed in
our small living and dining rooms.
More worrisome than the weather, though, was family.
Most of them hadn't met and we didn't know whether the
elder members of my Caucasian family would mingle with
my Asian fiancé's relatives. As far as I knew, my
British-born grandfather had never socialized with
anyone from China. Also, Bark's grandfather was
only one of several Chinese relatives who didn't speak
English. Truthfully, not everyone approved of our
marriage. I knew we couldn't hope to change
attitudes at one wedding, yet if we could provide
opportunities to break down some barriers, then it would
be a start.
A few members of Bark’s family were disappointed we
wouldn't serve the customary twelve-course banquet
usually presented at Chinese weddings. Bark
assured them, though, that the caterer would have plenty
of sumptuous dishes. On the morning of our big
day, I anxiously looked at the clouds. As the day
progressed, my plans unfolded beautifully, and by noon
the house was spotless. Colorful flower baskets
hung in our sunroom, red wine waited to be uncorked, and
Mozart tapes sat near the stereo. All I had to do
was finish dressing before the guests arrived at 1:00.
When two cars stopped in front of our house shortly
after noon, I was applying makeup in my underwear.
Bark went to see what was going on. A minute later
he returned.
"Deb, you've got to see this." I peeked out the
bathroom window and watched two unfamiliar Asian men
lift a red wooden platform out of the trunk of their
car. Lying on the platform was an enormous …
roasted … PIG? My eyes widened in horror.
The head was still on the beast, and they were bringing
it up the steps to our front door. Members of
Bark's family emerged from the second car, carrying
boiled chickens and roasted ducks. I didn't look
to see if the heads were still attached. I didn't
want to know.
"Where are we going to put the pig?" I asked Bark.
"The kitchen counter isn't big enough and the table's
covered with wine glasses." "I don't know."
"We've already ordered tons of food." "I guess
they wanted to make sure that pork, duck, and pig would
be served at the wedding," Bark replied. "Those
foods are believed to bring good luck." Funny, I
wasn't feeling lucky.
More cars were arriving, I was still in my underwear and
my house was being overtaken by a fat, crispy, brown
pig. What was I supposed to do? Hand
everyone a bib and tell them to chow down? I
hadn't even rented fingerbowls. I finished
dressing quickly. The pig wound up on our kitchen
floor, surrounded by newspapers and pieces of cardboard.
At this point, I desperately wanted a soothing cup of
tea, but the porker was blocking access to my kettle.
More guests arrived, commenting on the delicious odor
permeating the house. It didn't take them long to
discover the uninvited guest on my floor. In fact,
the pig rapidly became a conversation piece. At
2:00, the ceremony began. As we were pronounced
man and wife, the sun broke through and the afternoon
grew warm, but few people stayed in the blossom-carpeted
outside. They all went inside … to see the pig.
One of Bark’s relatives, a butcher by profession, used
his meat cleavers to cut with an expertise that had
guests from both sides of the family spellbound.
And pig grease splattered my once-spotless floor.
Business associates, friends, and more relatives drifted
to the kitchen to watch. As the meat was carved
into bite sized pieces and transferred onto aluminum
plates, people smiled and began chatting with one
another. By the time the butcher finished, the
caterers arrived and our dining room was soon
overflowing with food and budding friendships.
The new camaraderie gathered momentum all afternoon.
Over piles of succulent pork, our accepting families
were talking and laughing with one another like -- old
friends.
I guess that big fat pig brought good luck after all.
- Debra Purdy Kong
Reprinted with
permission by,
Chicken Soup for the Bride’s Soul
Love this story? Journal your own wedding memories
with Chicken Soup for the Bride’s Soul gift edition that
includes pages for journaling. Bride’s Soul is
available at your local retailer or online. Visit
www.bridesoul.com Makes a great gift!
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