Who needs a wedding planner?

Poor Jack never stood a chance. In fact, Gen. Custer faced better odds at the Little Big Horn.
Jack Tynan, as some of you may know, is leaving Fort Frances for a reporting job in Missouri and, as is tradition here at the Times, there was a going away party in my basement on Friday night.
During the party, Jack let it be known that, contrary to what he had been led to believe, it would be easier to move his fiancée, August, down there with him if they were already married rather than just engaged.
The women of the office took over from there.
Within 10 minutes, everything was arranged. Linda phoned her neighbour, Pastor Brian Keffer, Lori and Tanya volunteered to do the decorating, Pam would be in charge of the flowers, and Jim would do the reading (though only if he promised it was a short one).
In fact, if we had convinced Don to call Bill Naturkach to wrangle a marriage licence, the wedding just might have taken place that very night in my basement. After all, we even had something blue to give to the bride (a whole case worth).
That didn’t seem to bother Jack. He just kept nodding at everything—looking kind of like a deer caught in headlights.
Then someone suggested perhaps it would be best if we waited for August to arrive at the party, just in case she wanted some input into her wedding ceremony.
So then we started bantering about possible dates—a tough task given Jack is heading south this Saturday morning. First we settled on Hallowe’en, but then I piped up that marriage is scary enough without having to celebrate your anniversary every Oct. 31 (which I could bravely say since my wife wasn’t home at the time).
Eventually, we settled on this coming Thursday (tomorrow). And in the sober light of day back at the office Monday morning, it was decided Del’s house would offer a much nicer setting for a wedding than my basement.
Well, everything’s falling into place quite nicely, particularly with the women at the office handling everything (it’s a wonder anything actually work-related got done here all week). Then again, they’ve had lots of experience over the years.
Thinking back, Doug Ashbury arrived here single and later married a Fort Frances girl. Jody Miller met her future husband while covering the OPSEU strike a few years ago. Beth Caldwell got married while she was the part-time reporter here. Former sports reporter Brian Bowman met his fiancée while working at the Times.
(I recall this happening to someone else here but his name escapes me for the moment).
And now there’s Jack. Hmmm, Duane and Reuben, run for your lives, or at least avoid drinking the water at the office!
Well, Jack, enjoy your last two days of bachelorhood (although I know he’s too busy packing to worry about much else). Because after tomorrow, you’ll never win another argument and you’ll be lucky to get six hangers out of two closets for your clothes.
And you’ll love it (most days).
But one warning, if you’re ever asked, “Does this outfit make me look fat?” just start whistling and pretend you didn’t hear it.

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