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Whoever coined the phrase "the Devil's in the details" never met my mom. I think Details was her middle name. I can remember her getting the house cleaned up for company to come over once and finding her changing the shelf paper in a bathroom. "Mom, do you really think they're going to look in there!?!" She and my mother-in-law spent hours shelf papering my kitchen when we moved into our current house- it has now either been thrown away or is scrunched up in the back corner of the drawers, because that was the last time I thought about it. Last weekend, I opened the doors to a wardrobe that was in my bedroom growing up and saw the beautiful Laura Ashely scented shelf paper that mom had lined it with. Now THAT was some shelf paper. 

I think I derailed....

Details. Mom was a detail person. In fact, I just got her planner for my wedding. I had my own notebook that I used to keep up with everything. But now that I've looked through hers, she must have been thinking, "oh, that's cute" every time mine came out. Want to see a photocopy of every single gift registry we had? Got it. Want to see the press releases for all local newspapers? Got it. Menu for any of the parties that were hosted in our honor? The memo from the caterer about the check they returned because it was made it to the wrong person? Check and check. Needless to say, the thing was planned! 

One afternoon she and I met my uncle (a very accomplished organist) at a cathedral downtown to make music selections. Well, they selected- I listened and acted like I could tell the difference between what was being played. Mom knew exactly what should be playing as each individual walked down the aisle. Remember that post back on day 10? That little gold thread ran through my wedding as well- I'd forgotten until I reread the program. It was in The Binder. 

Assisting us the day of was a lady that had been running weddings in the area since she'd graduated from nursery school in 1906. She too had a binder and an iron will. She didn't mind letting Dad know his shoes were awful and telling the preacher he didn't need to talk too much at the rehearsal- we had a schedule to keep that evening. I was mortified. 

So the morning of the wedding you can imagine my surprise when it is time for my mom to be walked down the aisle and she's nowhere to be found. Wedding Woman is running around trying to locate her, everyone's asking me where she is like I've had a say in any of this, and my uncle has been given strict instructions about who's walking in on what beat of what chord of what hymn. Fortunately, he's cool as a cucumber at all times and, again, very talented. So, he just keeps playing. Adding flourishes to the verses and choruses. Adding complete extra songs from memory. Pulling out something he may have played at a Catholic mass a few weeks ago. Well, when mom is finally located and positioned at the door to float down the aisle of the magnificent First Baptist sanctuary, in her beautifully tailored suit she spent months selecting, finest jewelry she owns, clutching flowers that were hand-selected, the pipes open wide to release that classic mother of the bride march "Can't Help Falling In Love." By the King. 

However, no one even realized it. That is the level of skill you're looking for in your organist. One who's repertoire is so deep that they can ad-lib ad nauseum, but should that not be enough they can actually disguise any ole song that pops into their head as high church appropriate. 

-----------------------------------
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay?
Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you?
Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand
Take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you
Like a river flows
Surely to the sea
Darling, so it goes
Some things are meant to be
Take my hand
Take my whole life too
For I can't help falling in love with you
For I can't help falling in love with you

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