We found ourselves talking about weddings. Having discovered the tidy little amphitheatre in the woods behind this cozy Vermont inn (www.weathersfieldinn.com) -- a perfect matrimonial setting -- we inquired of innkeeper Dave on the subject. "We're selective," he responded. When prodded for an explanation, he hinted that, after a series of unpleasant experiences, he and Jane now virtually interview those who inquire about booking their nuptials at the inn. "We mostly do older couples who have their act together."
I nodded with understanding. "When I was graduating from seminary, I couldn't wait to do weddings, and dreaded doing funerals."
"But that quickly flipped," Dave interrupted.
"Yes," I confirmed. "People involved in funerals tend to be genuinely present and focused on large questions and attentions. They are interested in substance rather than show."
"While young, first-time brides," Dave dryly interjected, "are all consumed with whether the mashed potatoes will match the wedding dress, and whether the bridesmaid's' dresses will coordinate with the table cloths."
And so went our commiseration about the nonsensical distractions of youth. But I suspect we both knew that inane preoccupation with what simply doesn't matter is a malady without respect for age.
As I point my wheels into the untracked expanse of a new year, my first resolution is to lighten up, and seek a tighter discrimination between what matters and what simply doesn't. And second, to be more patiently forgiving of those who, like me, often get the two confused.
I nodded with understanding. "When I was graduating from seminary, I couldn't wait to do weddings, and dreaded doing funerals."
"But that quickly flipped," Dave interrupted.
"Yes," I confirmed. "People involved in funerals tend to be genuinely present and focused on large questions and attentions. They are interested in substance rather than show."
"While young, first-time brides," Dave dryly interjected, "are all consumed with whether the mashed potatoes will match the wedding dress, and whether the bridesmaid's' dresses will coordinate with the table cloths."
And so went our commiseration about the nonsensical distractions of youth. But I suspect we both knew that inane preoccupation with what simply doesn't matter is a malady without respect for age.
As I point my wheels into the untracked expanse of a new year, my first resolution is to lighten up, and seek a tighter discrimination between what matters and what simply doesn't. And second, to be more patiently forgiving of those who, like me, often get the two confused.
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