A few months after I got engaged in 2004, I had to sit down and explain to my future father-in-law how he was going to get enough to eat at our wedding reception. See, he was a New Yorker. My boyfriend, now husband, and I met in New York City, where he was raised. Weddings in New York—and many, many other places in the country outside of the South—tend to be seated affairs. There are place cards and seat assignments and plated chicken breasts. As I began to explain to my future father-in-law the concept of the typical Southern wedding reception we would be having in my hometown of Memphis, where the food is a buffet and there might only be enough chairs to accommodate guests with AARP memberships, his eyes widened.
"But what will we eat for dinner?" he asked.
"Oh, any number of things!" I offered. "We will probably have a carving station, and I was thinking there would be one buffet with different salads."
"I don't understand. Can I get a dinner-sized portion of food?"
"Yes. You can go back to the buffet as many times as you want. That's the point. It's a free-for-all! The bar, the dance floor, and the food are open, and everyone is just circulating."
"I see. Where will I eat my food?"
"We will have tables."
"But not enough for everyone to sit down at once?"
"No."
"I'm still not sure I get it, but I trust you."
"I promise it will be a really fun party.
"Can there be pasta?" (My father-in-law is very Italian, as you might surmise from my last name.)
"Of course."
In the end, my in-laws had a blast at our wedding. Their friends from New York and Connecticut and Ohio did, too. Everyone got plenty to eat, and we didn't need half the chairs we rented, because most of the guests were on the dance floor the entire evening. My in-laws also enjoyed the rehearsal dinner at the Peabody Hotel, despite the fact that it ballooned to over 150 people. That was another cultural hurdle, explaining that my mother expected to invite not just family and out-of-town guests, but also all her friends who had thrown wedding showers for me.
A Southern wedding has its own particular set of traditions and etiquette rules. So does a , a , a , and a Southern visit. Good manners exist everywhere, of course; I still live in New York, and I know many non-Southerners who write lovely and copious thank-you notes. But there are certain quirks that are unique to the South and Southern gatherings. Most of them are probably second nature to you.
Some might feel stuffy or outdated—anyone outside of the royal family worn a morning suit recently? I'll admit there are a few things I grew up with that I've tossed when it comes to my own kids because I'm parenting in a different way, with different expectations, than the generation before me. As I have written before, my children do not when addressing adults in their daily lives in New York, because adults here don't expect or enjoy those terms as signs of respect. My kids say 'ma'am' and 'sir' when visiting their grandmother and her friends in Memphis.
That's exactly how I believe manners should operate—as guideposts to loving my neighbors, whether they are older relatives or dinner party guests, with the onus being on me to adapt to their needs and expectations, not the other way around.
When it comes to weddings, there are a lot of formalities that have fallen by the wayside. For example, everyone includes response cards now. When I got married, that wasn't a guarantee. My mother taught me to on my own stationery, with very specific wording—"Miss Elizabeth Schatz accepts/declines your kind invitation for Saturday, June 16th"—because there was no card or check box included in the invitation.
That said, I personally think the way Southerners do food and drinks at weddings is far superior to anything else I've experienced—and I've been to a lot of sit-down dinner weddings. Heaven forbid you are seated with a bunch of dull conversationalists or an ex-boyfriend and are stuck there for half the night. If you get one plate of food, and it's not great, you're asking cake to do the job of absorbing all the champagne you'll inevitably drink to tolerate your tablemates. At a Southern wedding, you can drink, dance, and socialize with whom you please, and graze for as much food as you need. are largely confined to the rehearsal dinner, so the wedding reception is devoted to letting loose and having fun.
A Tradition to Consider Bringing Back
, designating what attire is expected based on the time of the ceremony, may seem antiquated; but I wish more people understood and used them. They are a perfect example of how boundaries could make our lives infinitely easier.
A Tradition to Consider Letting Go
Another area I think we could be flexible on is
A Tradition to Have Forever and Ever, Amen
Which brings me to . And I don't need to tell you. Write them. . In the pinchiest of pinches—a week when you are feeling overwhelmed, and your mental health is at stake, or you simply want to send a quick, heartfelt thank you for something small—text your thanks. But a handwritten thank-you note is an act of love, a way to honor someone who has spent precious money or time on you.
Now, I think about similarly to Southern weddings. We tend to fling the doors open wide in times of joy and grief. It is difficult to say exactly what rules exist, as different faiths have their own customs. What I can say is that I have experienced funerals in various houses of worship and disparate parts of the country.
We are people who show up with food, whether that is to the home of a family who has lost a parent or added a child. Dropping off a meal to new mothers is not uniquely Southern, but I would argue that are uniquely designed to travel (and uniquely appreciated by hungry, sleep-deprived parents).
People ask me quite a lot what I miss most about living in the South. I say my mother, because I'm not a moron, but the truth is that we talk and visit enough that I don't feel too deprived of her presence. What I miss the most are the small, friendly interactions between me and the store cashier, me and the woman in line behind me at the bank, me and my neighbor as we meet at the end of our driveways. I miss the way my manners compel me, and most of you, to make small talk or wave at someone walking down my street as I drive past. We are skilled at chitchat. (Often, I wonder if this part of our culture is exhausting for Southern introverts.
This is especially crucial, I think, in a world full of phones, where the strictest etiquette lessons are constantly overpowered. My Southern manners tell me that I should look people in the eyes when talking to them, so I look up from my phone (when talking to my kids, too!). I learned to have good table manners and make conversation, so I leave my phone elsewhere. My Southern manners tell me to be pleasant; and maybe that sounds phony, but what if we all aimed to be pleasant and respectful in our comments on social media? What if we adhered to the old adage, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"? Being sweet doesn't mean we don't have a backbone.
Southerners can be messy, too, even if we're dressed impeccably and carrying a cobbler. That's what makes us interesting. And a lot of fun at weddings.