And Now, Life’s Rituals and Embarrassments, in Permanent, Living Color

There’s only one piece of mail I dread more than something from the IRS and that’s a shower invitation. Giving blood is more thrilling than sitting around watching someone else open gifts. How interesting can a food processor be? Unless it can pick me up from work, have dinner waiting when I walk in the door and rub my back after dessert, I’m not impressed.

But just when I thought it wasn’t possible, I actually found something worse than a shower. The video of the shower!

At a recent shower, I was inches from a clean getaway with my tuna-tainted Tupperware tucked under my arm and a piece of white mystery cake molded into a foil swan in my hand. Just as I reached for the doorknob, the hostess blurted out, “Wait! Don’t you want to see the video?”

Can I be disemboweled instead? First I’m bored to oblivion for three hours live. Now I have to watch reruns. What’s next, syndication?

Then comes the video of the wedding and (of course) the reception. That’s where you get to make an idiot of yourself not just once, when in a moment of weakness you uttered “yes” to another plastic flute of cheap champagne, but for a lifetime. For the next 20 years, you’ll be seen doing the Cabbage Patch. The only thing more embarrassing is a close-up of Uncle Herb rearranging his trousers.

People like this will video first steps, first days at school and first base at deserted dirt lots. Not to mention the traditional birthday parties, funerals and family reunions, the tapes of which come in handy for all those Jenny Craig commercials--”There I was, tons o’ fun at my little one’s pool party with all the children shouting ‘Whale ho! ‘Whale ho!’ ”

Then there’s the granddaddy of all videos, giving birth. Why not just capture highlights of the pelvic exam when she first found out? Or how about that riveting morning sickness? Suddenly the girlfriend who was too shy to undress for gym class wants you to watch close-ups of private body parts. I don’t think so.

I recall a wedding so moving and lovely that it brought tears to everyone’s eyes. The bride was stunning, the groom handsome and proud, and the warmth and love from family and friends draped over the congregation like a sacred shroud. Then I saw the video. My eyes were drawn away from the vocalist who sent chills through us in person to a kid feigning rigor mortis as his desperate mother dragged him screaming from the church. Gee, how did I miss that? The sappy looks I had remembered were actually drunken. The tears were from the guy in the back row choking on a jujube. The groom looked like he borrowed his tuxedo from a taller, thinner friend. The bride’s angelic expression seemed more like sheer panic. And that “great dress” that everyone said made me look thinner and younger is now being used to cover my barbecue.

Some things are better left to memory.