Snob Hill and Railroad Tracks
You are Invited To the Wedding Of
James M. Phussed
Constance J. Morgan
Saturday, July 11
“Isn’t that invitation too simple for a woman of your standing?” mother asked in her usual snooty tone.
“Mom . . . “
“Call me Mother. How many times must we have this conversation?”
“Okay, Mo—ther. It’s my wedding. We like simple things.”
“That’s another point. Your father and I had hoped this infatuation would fade. Why does James insist on calling you Con? Can he not pronounce Constance?”
“It’s his pet name for me. Mother, you confuse me. You want me to be happy, yet you act as if I’m making a mistake.”
“You are making a mistake by not marrying within our class. Your father might not pay for this event. James is from ‘the other side of the tracks.’”
“Oh, that’s right. We’re from Snob Hill. Mom, Jim and I love each other.”
“You’re only 22. What do you know of love?”
“I know of God’s love and now Jim’s.”
“A Christian. What an archaic concept.”
“Mother, please listen to me about Jesus.”
“Not another word.” Mom paused, then continued, “Is your dress ready? Mine arrives from Paris tomorrow. Charles D’Amore designed it.”
I looked my mom in the eyes. “Mine was designed by Goodwill.” I almost laughed at her horrified expression.
“Constance Johanna Morgan, that is not funny. Dinner is in thirty minutes. Wear that new dress by Tamica. It’s becoming to your status.”
Sometimes I’m so confused by this family that I wonder if I’m adopted. Four children – boy, girl, boy, girl. Our birthdays are two years apart, almost to the day. I’m the youngest, and the rebel in this perfect family. I don’t cut my spaghetti, I prefer blue jeans, and I sit backwards in chairs. Mostly, I love being in the garage with the mechanics helping them work on our fleet of vehicles. My parents can’t understand that girls can like cars.
Dinner that night was just like other nights. “Constance, we have decided to fund your event, even though it is against our desire.” My father spoke sternly. “You will inform his family of the proper wedding attire. Judge Jordaine will perform the service.”
“Jim and I are being married at his, no, our – church. You already agreed to that. Besides, the invitations are printed.
“Bettina, is that correct?” My father’s raised eyebrows spoke volumes.
“I’m afraid so, Harrison.”
My dad sighed. “So be it. I do not understand how you could have become smitten by a lower class citizen. The matter is quite confusing.” As he spoke, the main entrée of stuffed pork chops, baby carrots, and pureed mashed potatoes was served. Truthfully, I preferred a hamburger and French fries.
The weeks to the wedding passed. My faith in Jesus seemed to grow even more rapidly.
“Jim,” I remarked one day, “all my life, I seemed to be searching for something, but now I am no longer confused about my identity. Why?”
“In Christ, we are a new creation and belong to the family of God.”
“I feel like I know so little compared to you.”
“Con, Christ gives you the knowledge you need for each day. Keep trusting in Him.”
It was sometimes difficult to stay steadfast with Christ because of my family’s comments.
“It’s not too late to move back into our social circle.”
“You can do better than James.”
“You spent only one hundred dollars for your wedding dress? My shoes cost more than that.”
The wedding day finally arrived. My mother was still upset about the white dress that I bought on the clearance rack. Still, nothing marred this day. As my father walked me down the aisle, I could only focus on Jim – handsome in his white suit. The pastor gave a profound message on salvation (as we requested) and I noticed many of my family looking confused and uncomfortable. I prayed for them.
The reception was held at my parents’ house, with ample alcohol. We left as soon as possible and noticed that Jim’s family left, also. They were not enticed by alcohol’s false highs.
Two weeks later, I laughed as I signed our first thank-you card.
“What’s so funny?” Jim asked.
“Now that I realize who I am in Christ and thought I was no longer confused, look. I never thought too much about the pronunciation, until I saw this.” I held up the card:
Jim and Con Phussed
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