It was a 1,600-mile drive, the longest drive I had ever made to sing at a wedding. But then again, this was no ordinary wedding.
After encountering heavy rain, downed power lines, detours through back roads, wrong turns in the mountains of Wyoming, 20 miles of gravel road in the middle of a destitute Indian reservation, a western store where the sales lady tried to sell me a $100 shirt and one of the best Italian restaurants I’ve ever enjoyed, my parents and two younger children made it to Joliet, Mont., where my oldest nephew would say his nuptials under Big Sky Country – literally.

I missed the memo saying the ceremony would take place in a branding lot where we would be tripping over rocks and stepping over dried cow pies. I was in a panic when I realized my pink silk dress and heels might not work too well among the sage brush, but I soon found this would be the least of my worries.

After greeting the family and seeing how tall everyone had gotten, I asked my sister what time the rehearsal started. She replied, “Fifteen minutes ago.”

My thoughts began to run wild. What? We’re late? I’m a part of this wedding and I’m late! How rude! The bride will never forgive me! She’s got enough on her mind without worrying about the vocalist being late! What a great first impression I’m making on my niece-to-be! Get on it, sister! Let’s go!

Seeing the wedding spot across the hills, it was only about a mile or so as the crow flies. Unfortunately, we had to take the long way around and that was a 15-minute drive down winding, hilly, gravel roads dodging grazing cows.

Thinking I would meet an anxious bride, tapping her toe and looking at her watch, we arrived only to find the bride and groom laughing and joking and absolutely nothing happening. There was also the absence of a sound system and only a few chairs set up. What was happening?

They walked through the rehearsal and I asked the bride if there was any way I could do a sound check the next morning when they set up the sound system. She assured me it would be set up by 10 a.m. and available for use.

The next morning came and no word from anyone about any sound check. I waited and wondered most of the day. By now it was wedding time, so I pulled on my silk dress, slipped into my heels and headed for the hills.

Arriving an hour before the ceremony, I felt confident this would be plenty of time to work out the kinks. But it was when I saw the absence of a sound system – again – that I really began to wonder about this Western way of life. Didn’t they have watches? Do they know what time it is? Do they just round off to the nearest hour and go from there?

Trying not to be the bossy aunt from Michigan, I smiled faintly while the groomsmen joked around and slowly, ever so slowly, put together the sound system. But it was when guests began arriving and they we were still saying ”testing … one … two … three … testing” that I said enough was enough.

I stood up, took charge and began giving orders like a drill sergeant: “You get the sound system running, you three go get your wedding clothes on, you go get the cord we need for the iPod, and do it quickly!”

With young men scattering in different directions, I felt a sudden rush of control and the feeling that all was right with the world again. Within minutes the ceremony began and the entire event was beautiful and quite memorable, with the big sky and mountains in the backdrop.

Sitting in the second row watching my nephew and his bride look into each other’s eyes and proclaim their love for one another, all of a sudden, sound checks, cow patties, silk dresses and sage brush paled in comparison to a blushing bride and her handsome groom in his Wranglers and cowboy hat.

Bending her over in his strong arms for the wedding kiss was the icing on the cake on this beautiful day in a branding lot turned wedding chapel, under the big Montana sky.

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.