Cornbread Wedding

Missy O’Malady looked resplendent in her white wedding dress complete with an elegant jacket her mom, Maddy, bought from Dress Barn down in Lafayette, where her aunts and girlfriends cooed and fussed during the fittings. She’d had her hair done back in Opelousas at her aunt Ana Bel’s backyard Chat’N’Curl Beauty Salon that morning – an elegant bouffant with a sensuous swirl across her forehead a ’la Audrey Hepburn. Ana Bel had taken extra care sculpting Missy’s hairdo for her big day while the other customers, two elderly matrons, ooh-ed and aah-ed from underneath their hair dryers.   

Now Missy stood in the foyer of the Apostolic Holy Ghost Catholic Church on the arm of her uncle Bon Tom Roulay, her father sadly having died in an accident at the sugar cane factory a few years ago. Missy crossed herself in his memory before taking Uncle Bon Tom’s arm. Fortunately, Uncle Bon Tom had only had two Dixie beers that morning under the strict supervision of Maddy and his breath was made tolerable with green mints. 

An organ rendition of Here Comes the Bride started up on a scratchy 45 on the record player brought in for the occasion and Missy and Bon Tom started their procession down the aisle. The record started skipping when they were halfway down the aisle, followed by a loud scratch and a brief moment of silence before resuming. Her fiancée Jean Pierre stood awkwardly at the altar in his rented blue tuxedo and smiled nervously as she approached him. You could tell that the heir groom truly loved the mademoiselle. His best man Boudreaux Beaujolais stood by his side scratching at his collar. Theresa Maria Sydnor, the Maid of Honor, shifted anxiously from foot to foot, wobbling slightly. 

When Missy arrived at the altar, the couple turned to face Monsignor Perignon, ready to exchange vows. Monsignor mumbled some phrases in Latin, Holy Ghost being a VERY conservative Catholic church. Rings exchanged and did Jean Pierre ever kiss the bride, bending her head back and causing her to stumble slightly and cough. Missy quickly regained her balance and the newly minted LeBlancs walked down the aisle to an organ rendition of The Wedding March, the 45 thankfully not skipping this time.  Women bobbed their veiled heads approvingly and the men in their JC Penney suits and skinny black ties smiled broadly and winked. 

The reception room had been gaily decorated. Festive green and pink tablecloths covered the long tables arranged in a rectangle. From underneath the tablecloths, dark wine cerise drapes with twinkles in them hung down to the floor. Large plastic sheets covered the blue wallpapered walls behind which children’s colorful wedding art had been hung. A large half-red heart inscribed with “ Félicitations pour votre mariage” hung behind the plastic sheeting in back of the weddings couple’s places of honor. 

Apples, cherries, grapes, donuts, Hershey kisses, Hostess twinkies, beef jerky, pretzels, pralines, and fritos adorned tiered lazy susans at either end of the head table. Wine bottles and water carafes had been placed at strategic intervals along the tables. 

Outside under the shade of a magnificent live oak tree festooned with Spanish Moss, bright red crawdads sizzled on a large open grill. Corn and potatoes bubbled in a boiling pot of water to which two tall canisters of Tony Cachere’s Cajun Seasoning had been added. Guests lined up back in the reception room to dish themselves up crawdads, potatoes, corn, cheese grits, corn fritters topped with Steen’s Cane Syrup, and cornbread in serving trays atop long tables. At the end of the tables, cans of Dixie and Falstaff beer floated in the icy waters of a large tub.  

After all the guests sat down with their plates. Beauregard stammered out Grace – “Uh, thank you, Lord, for this food and, uh, you know, beer and everything, amen” – and everybody started digging in. 

At the head table, Missy suddenly looked around – where was Uncle Bon Tom? Not seeing him, she grimaced slightly and was filled with a sense of foreboding. Still, she smiled, chatted with the guests and cheered up. 

During the ceremonial cutting of the cake, the door burst open followed by the traditional Cajun yell “AIEEEEEEE! Let the good times roll with yours truly Bon Tom Roulay on the accordion!” and in he walked singing the only song he knew – “Gimme Cornbread!” 

Missy’s nightmare scenario became a reality. The song only consisted of two chords and the words “gimme cornbread” repeated over and over. Unfortunately, Bon Tom neither sang nor played very well, but he did both with plenty of gusto, lamely boogying with eyes closed around the tables and winding up in the middle of them. The guests left one by one – for seconds, they said. Finally, even Jean Pierre, followed by Beauregard and Theresa Maria, sidled out, slinking along the back wall as quietly as possible. Bon Tom was oblivious to all of it.  

But Missy glumly stayed out of a resentful respect for her uncle. He slowed down eventually, and she started clapping, hoping to encourage him to end the misery, and hoping everyone had not already gone home. 

But Bon Tom Roulay mistook the clapping as a call for an encore and resumed playing. 

“Gimme cornbread!” 

So into his groove was Bon Tom that he did not notice Missy slinking around to pick up a tray full of cornbread. The next time he shouted “Gimme cornbread!” she threw it at him. 

Bon Tom staggered to his right but did not miss a lick. Not caring anymore, Missy ran outside where, to her astonishment, all the guests were dancing the Zydeco. She ran and found Jean Pierre and joined right in, yelling “AIEEEE!” 

C’est la vie, say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell. 

Gimme Cornbread  

Beau Jocque and The Zydeco Hi-Rollers 

Copyright © Johnny Clack 2022