Culture Shock In Amishland

          There's a second wedding coming up for our family and it has all the makings of a culture-shock show-stopper.

          As I mentioned a few days ago, Katie's wedding is coming up soon, but her cousin, Rachel, is launching into matrimony this weekend.  She'll be married in the picturesque white country church with the tall steeple, in Winesburg, where her dad has been minister for 12 years.

          Rachel met Daniel Dominguez soon after they finished basic training.  She's Navy, he's a Marine. 

          I'm guessing he fell in love at first sight (she's my granddaughter, after all, what's not to love?).  She was a holdout, but they formed a close (non-romantic) friendship that endured as their respective branches of the service bounced them around the country for about two years.

          Both ended up in San Diego and the friendship blossomed into "Yes!"

          That was a couple months ago and now the big day is less than a week away.

          Which is all well and good, but the family subtext of this romance saga is where the culture shock part comes in.

          Rachel grew up on the outskirts of Winesburg, Ohio (Winesburg has outskirts?) while Daniel grew up on the inner city streets of San Diego.

          The societal chasm between Ohio's Amish Country and downtown San Diego is a cultural grand canyon, especially for the Dominguez family.

          Daniel and Rachel are totally cool with their divergent backgrounds.  They've been around.

          But Daniel's family hasn't traveled beyond their urban neighborhood.

          And bless their adventurous souls, they've decided to pile into a couple of vans and drive (a few plan to fly) 3,000 miles to a region where families ride in horse-drawn contraptions with wooden wheels.

          To sit in a little white country church and watch the first of their family to leave the streets, pledge his life to a direct descendent of "The Father of Amish Country."

          This . . .will be a weekend none of us will forget.