Rodney Curtis

“Don’t worry Jeffrey,” I told my buddy while we devoured smokehouse grub at the trendy Royal Oak meat market, “there’s no way I’m going to call you, moaning ‘shoot my wedding for me.’ ”

Jeffrey Sauger had shot two previous gigs for me when I was taken out of life’s rodeo because of the now familiar blah, blah, blah. He and Rob Widdis have come through on either a few week’s or a few day’s notice, depending on how quickly I was tossed from the bucking bronco.

I got bucked alright.

But this time I was staying on my ride. This time I was not going to plant my face in the dirt and watch, ringside from the hospital bed, as another fun wedding slipped past me.

But then all that smokehouse meat I ate caught up to me. Or the organic vegetables. Or that peach that maybe wasn’t quite right. Or maybe it was just another one of those blah, blah, blahs that love to buck with me during recovery.

When I woke up Saturday morning feeling oogy, I was thinking I’d have to go back on my word and call the Jeffrey/Robs to see if they could spring into action, this time with just a few hour’s notice.

But I gutted it out. There was actually an internal struggle, (in more ways than one), pitting me vs. me.

Happily, I won.

Our family friends, the Greens, were having a hoedown reception in their backyard — contrasting the formal wedding — of their son Jimmy to their new daughter-in-law Becca. The young couple love animals as much as Jimmy’s family and I happily was lassoed in to shoot the roundup.

There were miniature cows, tiny goats, ducks, chickens, dogs, a pig (but it was called “dinner”), and lots of humans. And you have to believe me when I say none of them were only there for the special day, except for the pig, (and some of the humans). Their house and land is the coolest in all of Troy; they didn’t even use their barn because it was far too hot on the high 90 degree Saturday. Suburban cowboys.

The day was made even more special by the addition of my ranch hand daughter, Taylor. At 15, she was the last remaining member of the family who hadn’t earned some coin helping out at weddings. Since Abby Green is “her besty,” she was glad to be my photo assistant. The first thing we heard when we walked into the bridal room where everyone was busy getting ready was a loud, “TAYLOR!”

She thought she was in trouble, but no, one of the Green kids needed her hair re-done. I checked back in later to find Taylor doing another sister’s toenails. “Tay, honey, I need you take pictures too,” I said.

In lieu of an answer, she flicked the camera’s preview button to show me what she’d shot already. “That’s pretty darn good, girl!”

She went back to painting nails.

Seriously, she had several shots already that I wished I’d taken. She went on to have a whole herd of really nice photos. And having her there to cover for me, when the heat got to be too much, was critical.

Don’t worry Jeffrey and Rob if you’re reading this, you won’t get stampeded by a teen girl.

Yet.

No, all kidding aside, it’s tremendous to know there are great people all around me who have my back before, during and after weddings. But mostly in life.

This ain’t my first rodeo. Thankfully, it ain’t my last.