My daughter hated to hear me say it, but that day was finally coming when she would wed. Hooray and hallelujah! Now it remained to be seen whether I, as father of the bride, could weather the approaching storm.

Sure, every Jewish father longs for the day when his children will start families of their own. I was certainly no different. Some parents have a short wait until that moment comes around. Others of us, have had to be patient, very patient, until Mr. Right showed up.

At my house, there seemed to be one long revolving door. After a while, I gave up memorizing their names. Why get attached to someone who undoubtedly would disappear in a week, or a month or two? In the meantime, my daughter not only enjoyed the perpetual whirl, but she turned her experiences into a series of singles columns that are being published across the U.S. of A. in Jewish weekly newspapers. Waste not, want not. Guess we taught her something.

When we learned of the engagement, thoughts of the wedding flooded our thinking. To be frank, I had a momentary sense of loss. Both our parents are gone and all but one of our many aunts and uncles, too. There are those cousins we still speak to and others who have faded from view. Even the count on our closest of friends has diminished somewhat due to divorces and relocations.

We were, however, warned that my daughter’s fiancee had a large family and the two of them seemed to have a full roster of friends and professional associates.

"Who is there to invite?" I asked my wife. So the two of us sat down and started a list. Eliminating business associates, fellow board members, members of the congregation, neighbors we hardly speak to and relatives we don’t speak to at all, we were amazed and somewhat staggered by the remaining number.

Well, we reasoned, they all won’t come. But that proved to be a fallacy. Even before the invitations were printed, word spread and the feedback was quite positive. They were coming from France, Florida, New York, Rhode Island, Kansas City, Seattle and beyond. Mon Dieu! By the time the invitations were actually received, I expected a virtual flood of costly affirmative responses.

At first my daughter wanted a beach wedding, but the date was set for February...not exactly beach weather even in sunny Southern California. She toyed with a destination wedding as well, but Indonesia was not in her parents’ travel plans.

We arranged for a synagogue ceremony and signed the deal for the main venue, but not without an exhaustive search of every ballroom, club house, and large scale restaurant in the County. One country club suggested that we could tent over their tennis courts for our event, but the music had to stop by ten p.m..."Because of neighbors." My daughter was upset at the early hour, but I was thinking about the cost of a tent. "Oh, its only $125 per person," the coordinator cheerfully reassured me.

A grand hotel downtown had us tenting over their roof for the reception. My daughter was in love with the idea. but not her old man. "I am not paying to build a room for this wedding," I sourly ended that conversation.

My daughter and son-in-law-to-be were fairly cooperative, especially after being reminded who was footing the bill. I did the reminding and it finally sunk in...to a degree.

So now we were down to the nitty gritty....menus, colors, decorations, wedding gown, mother of the bride outfits, refining the guest list, cooperating with those who wished to throw bridal showers, selecting the wedding party, the band, the florist, the videographer, the photographer, the printer and two or three poorly guarded banks in town. Honestly, we needed them in a big way.

Uncle Charley hosted three daughters’ weddings. How did he manage? I marvel at the friends and relatives who have given lavish wedding affairs in the past. Prices were somewhat more reasonable back then, I am told. It was daunting to think this could cost more than my first house and it had four bedrooms.

Elopement was looking better as each moment passes. So speaks the father of the bride.