Trouble in a red dress

Flipping through the channels on a recent sleepless night, I stumbled across a particularly interesting episode of "Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?"

A young couple from Pennsylvania was planning their marriage, but family problems got in the way.

Groom and brother/best man couldn't get along. The groom was devastated when it came down to this: His brother wouldn't stand for him on his wedding day. He was moved to sobbing; I felt for him.

Then, the groom's mother wouldn't cooperate with the bride's wishes in terms of attire.

Huh? I thought, this bride needs to get over it. Dresses aren't important enough to get upset about.

Then I saw the dress -- red and vampy. And heard the mother-in-law say she was so happy about her son getting married, she wanted to pretend it was her day -- and that she was the bride.

Granted, that dress looked spectacular. And the mother-in-law was a bubbly hoot, it seemed. (At least the editing made it look so.) But there's being happy for your child's good fortune, and there's taking the spotlight when you really shouldn't.

The bride decided to let it ride. And, come wedding day, everyone was happy. Groom and brother made up; the guests smiled graciously as mother-in-law made the rounds; bride was beautiful.

But I hope that red dress wasn't a harbinger of serious family relationships issues to come. I wouldn't place any bets on it.

What you remember, what you don't

While her husband was out of town last weekend, my sister and her two children stayed at my mom's for a few days.

It gave my sister a few days of help and relief from playing single parent, and it gave my niece ample opportunities for playing "hairdresser" with two grownup women.

Which led to my mother brushing my sister's hair for the first time in several decades.

Which led to my sister remarking how nice it was that Mom wasn't rapping her atop the head with the brush because she wasn't sitting still.

They both cracked up laughing, as I did when my sister told me the story. Mom was a little stressed back then, and she didn't always have patience for a wiggling kid.

But I also was a little surprised that I hadn't remembered Mom doing that.

Isn't funny what you remember of your childhood, and which memories you leave behind?

I remember dancing and singing all the words to the Beatles' "Hello, Goodbye" with my siblings -- so much so, I gave them copies of a Beatles compilation a few years ago.

They didn't have that happy memory at all.

My brother is convinced I was the one to wrap him up with the ribbon from a broken cassette tape and smear his face with peanut butter, even though my sister has explained she and her friend Kelly did it. I was the one telling them to stop.

And my sister remembers the hairbrush.

A few weeks ago, someone asked me what I recalled of how my parents punished us when we acted up.

I couldn't remember a thing to mention. I know there had to be something -- my mother could stop us in our tracks with a look when we were kids.

My sister reminded me of a few things when I asked her the same question.

But I guess I have left those memories in the past.