White trash

I was the best man at my best friend’s wedding last weekend. It was a great event, and everyone who knows the bride and groom are extremely happy for both of them — chief among them, me.

When my friend and his new bride departed for their car to head to the honeymoon, everyone lit sparklers and the newlyweds exited the venue in a full sprint through a flaming tunnel of sparks. It was a very dramatic exodus.

Things have changed in weddingland since I was married 26 years ago. People threw birdseed at my wife and me as we headed to our car on the way to our honeymoon. My childhood friends took great delight in the act, and threw the birdseed as hard as they could, trying to inflict as much harm as they could. I expected no less, as I did the same at their weddings. As far as I know, people threw rice when my parents were married and when my grandparents were married, too. No one throws rice any longer.

The first time I attended a wedding where they didn’t throw rice was when my brother was married. The reception was at my sister-in-law’s house in Brookhaven. It was a stately old Southern home, and near the front door, there were small bowls of birdseed for guests to throw at the departing bride and groom.

As everyone started to make their way from the backyard to the front of the house, where my brother and sister-in-law were about to make their exit, I remember asking a lady where I could find the rice. She told me that there wasn’t any because it was bad for the birds. “Everyone throws birdseed now,” she said. Fine by me, I thought, as long as we get to throw something.

Apparently, the columnist Ann Landers had written a column in the late 1970s disparaging the throwing of rice at weddings, stating that the grain expands in the stomachs of birds and kills them. No one ever went on to explain how birds are able to eat rice in fields and not die by the millions.

When one breaks it down and intellectualizes the tradition, the throwing of rice, birdseed or anything at newlyweds, it is a strange custom. Here we have a young couple who are heading out to start their new life together. They invited us to their big celebration, sprung for a bar, a large cake, a chocolate fountain and a lot of food. They have just changed clothes into outfits that the mother of the bride and the bride argued over for months. They are ready to get to their honeymoon destination for obvious reasons and we thank them by pelting them with rice or food meant for robins and blue jays.

Shouldn’t we all just line up single file and pass them thank-you notes as they run past. At the least, we could shout out congratulatory remarks such as, “Thanks for inviting me to your wedding!” Or, “Had a blast, sorry I ate all of the boiled shrimp.”

At my brother’s wedding — when everyone was gathering to send the newlyweds off by hurling things directly at their face from two feet away — I noticed my grandmother, who was probably in her late 80s at that point, hovering over a small bowl on an antique chest near the front door. She had a monogrammed linen cocktail napkin in her hand. In the napkin was a small amount of birdseed. I remember thinking to myself, “We’re about to see what kind of arm this old lady has.” As I walked closer, I saw my grandmother — this prim, proper, genteel, quintessential Southern lady — pick up a small amount of birdseed and put it in her mouth.

She had one eye squinched closed as she was awkwardly crunching away on the birdseed (with her original teeth, by the way) and trying to look as prim and proper as she could while gnawing on — what she probably assumed was — the crunchiest party mix she had tasted this side of Grape Nuts. She popped another handful in her mouth and was laboriously chomping away before I could reach her. She looked like a dog that has just eaten a handful of peanut butter. “Mam Maw, we’re not supposed to eat that. We’re supposed to throw it at Drew and Kathy as they leave.”

She looked at me like I had a third eye. It was a look that bespoke, “What madness is this? Why would anyone throw this dreadful party mix at the bride and groom?”

“It’s birdfeed,” I said. “Ann Landers says rice is bad for the birds.” 

She paused for a minute, swallowed her third handful of birdseed, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “OK.” I think it was the Ann Landers endorsement that settled it for her.

So, it turns out that several studies have been done that dispel the myth that birds die from thrown rice at weddings. File that alongside the Mentos and Coke will blow up in your stomach myths.

Consider this column the beginning of a soon-to-be nationwide movement to bring back rice to be used in the pelting of departing newlyweds. We’ll base our platform on two founding principles:

1. Rice is cheaper and dad has already overspent on the wedding

2. Nothing stings like uncooked grains

Onward.

White Trash

Every family has one. Now yours can, too. Will hold for two weeks if stored properly. Great for Christmas gifts.

2 cups Cheerios

2 cups Rice Chex cereal

2 cups small pretzels

2 cups toasted pecans

2 cups toasted walnuts

2 cups raisins

1 pound white chocolate

1/4 cup vegetable shortening

• In a double boiler, melt white chocolate and shortening.

• Place all the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl and pour warm white chocolate mixture over all. Toss mixture well to coat evenly.

• Spread onto baking sheets lined with wax paper.

• Cool, break apart and store in airtight containers.

• Yield: 3 quarts

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