Our first marriage was before God and family on a small goat farm in North Carolina on October 11, 2008. Our second marriage (depending on how things go) was in the little mountain town of Ukiah, the county seat in Mendocino, California, where Emerson and I were honeymooning.
We set out early the morning of Thursday, October 16, before the sun rose to make the long trek over the mountains to Ukiah. We stopped for one of the best scones I've ever had in a little village called Boonville, the hippiest town in the hippiest place I have ever been (I do not exaggerate when I say that the entire county smelled like pot). We didn't have much time because we had to meet Josh Bowers, the guy we hired on craigslist to take pictures and be our witness.
Ukiah had only one main road and ironically the county seat was not on it. Instead, it was a few blocks off, right next to the county prison. As municipal buildings go, this one wasn't so bad, although it had clearly been a school at one point in its existence, which would explain the baseball fields behind it. It probably stopped being a school around the same time the building next door became a prison (although you never know with these mountain types).
The first thing we had to do was go into a large, open office that reminded me of my high school administration, and fill out a form with things like our names, our parents names, and verifying that we weren't married. We then had to swear an oath to the hippy behind the counter that everything we said was true to the best of our knowledge. It was a tad bit surreal. Then we had to wait while the clerk typed up all of our information. Meanwhile, we checked out the spots where people liked to get married.
Apparently one of the popular spots was in front of the building by the willow tree. That tree, however, was right in front of the garbage bin. Marriage #2 was already bizarre enough; it didn't need to be made more bizarre by a trash heap; that would come later on the baseball field. No, we decided to not get married by the tree between the front driveway and the refuse pile. Instead we would get married in the "courtyard chapel".
Being a typical municipal school turned county administration office, the Ukiah county clerk was able to provide us with a concrete courtyard surrounded by windows looking into various government offices. In the corner was a white wooden arch with absolutely no adornment or flowers or plants or anything. It was perfect!
Right before we started, she asked us if were planning on exchanging rings. Shit! We quickly took off our rings and swapped them so we could exchange them in front of God and Josh the photographer. The clerk read from her print-out of the marriage ceremony, her gold-spangled costume necklace jingling down to her navel. After our big gay wedding on the goat farm, standing in the bright morning sun in the courtyard of an old school next to a prison in front of a softball field felt a tad bit anti-climactic. After our beautiful vows in front of friends and family, declaring our lifelong commitment of love and fidelity in front of an amateur photographer from Mendocino seemed underwhelming; it was difficult to hold back the chuckles.
But somewhere, right at the end, when I was reciting those words that you hear countless times on television and in the movies, it struck me how monumentally important this moment was. It didn't take us 14 months to plan; it didn't involve the precise melding of a million minute details to be perfect; it didn't involve the approving enthusiasm of our family and friends. We had to rely on the actions of strangers, Josh the photographer, Kathleen the deputy clerk, the California Supreme Court, to bring our marriage to the country. Now, an entire state of strangers avowed that they had a stake in my relationship. It was pretty fucking cool.
When it was over, the clerk handed us a colorful certificate declaring our marriage. It may have been in Comic Sans. I don't think it made it back to North Carolina. But we remembered to order an official notarized copy before the big vote. So our marriage has the honor of being real in the eyes of those who love us and, however briefly, real in the eyes of the State of California. And although we will undoubtedly celebrate October 11 as our anniversary, October 16, no matter how fleeting, will forever remain an important part of history.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Marriage #2: The Marriaging
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Water-Colored Memories
Two weeks feels like a lifetime - keeping up with everybody else's wedding blogs reminds me how intense the last year has been - and how peaceful and just-right life feels now. On the center table, draped in burgundy linens, the centerpieces of dahlias, zinnias, celosia, artichokes, eggplants, pears and peppers, were (of course) 100% local and organic, and assembled by a team consisting of our moms, my aunt, my sister and Michael. They were so nervous to do such a big and important job, but as you can see, the results were lush and elegant. I am very happy we didn't chicken-out and spend a lot of money on a florist.
We haven't got any professional pictures back, but we have many talented photographers among our friends, and I am happy to share a few of their snaps - those that I would consider "general interest" pictures. Many, many thanks to Jennifer, Bethany, Tom, Missy and Kristen for these great images.
I am happy that somebody took a good photo of the ceremony program, after the trouble we had with the offset printer. I am proud of the design of these programs, but more importantly I am grateful to Dave for designing such gorgeous invitations, which served as the template for these pieces.
The animals on the farm were a big hit with the guests as we hoped they'd be, and the buses arrived early enough that people had plenty of time to tour the whole farm and enjoy it in the daylight. Lemonade and iced tea were served during the hour before the ceremony.
The chickens were very sociable, and the donkey stayed quiet throughout the ceremony. He appeared to be paying rapt attention, in fact, which was a bit unnerving.
The brass quintet was a bit underwhelming. But, I think only Michael and I really noticed their ponderous timing and freewheeling sense of tonality, because we had so often listened to great recordings of all the music they were to play. Nonetheless, part of the reason for having the quintet was the juxtaposition of the elegant and the rustic. I assume this was their first time playing in or beside a goat paddock, and it was a cool thing to see.
The ceremony was just exactly what we had hoped for - thoughtful, prayerful and dignified. We really chose excellent readers who brought drama and insight to the scriptures. My best college friend, who is now an academic theologian, gave a reflection which - to put it crassly - blew minds. Our "collaborating presiders" did their work with grace and confidence. And our two vocal soloists sang beautifully.
Immediately after the ceremony, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and illuminated the horizon with a dramatic, fiery sunset. On the porch and the lawn of the farmhouse, our guests enjoyed hush puppies and oyster po' boys washed down with champagne (Gruet Brut from New Mexico), dry white wine (a picpoul from the Roussillon) and sweet mint juleps.
The tent was gorgeous, with three long banquet tables. We were glad to have insisted on long tables against our caterer's advice, because they were perfect. Each place was set with a personalized menu card and a packet of vintage-style postcards, wishing "Greetings from" all the places we have lived and worked - and the places from which so many of our guests traveled.
The other two tables were draped in navy, and had hurricane lamps set into magnolia and laurel wreaths, with votives and green hydrangeas scattered around. An absolutely fantastic salad of squash, goat cheese and figs was set at each place so that guests could start eating during the first of four (!) toasts.
Our Illegal Wedding: Now With Extra Illegality!
As soon as the ceremony ended, an odd feeling set in. I probably asked a dozen people, "So, does this wedding seem a little weird to you?" I suppose it was mostly that surreal sensation that many people report: This is it. We are getting married right now. Jesus tap-dancing Christ!
But, there were plenty of other unplanned occurrences that made our wedding day peculiar. For one thing, it was intermittently disrupted by bursts of machine gun fire in the distance - which (blessedly) many guests mistook for fireworks. The brass quintet played all the music at a funereal pace that made Michael and me pull our hair out - although it undoubtedly sounded fine to anyone unfamiliar with those pieces. Also the DJ (in whom we had so much faith) was after all a mind-boggling idiot.
Most importantly, though: our wedding was shut down by the police!
I'm not joking. Apparently, at the quiet end of a country road, sound travels a long way. We might have learned this from enduring the distant machine-gun fire all afternoon. The police came at 9:30 to ask us to turn it down or turn it off. A neighbor from about a mile down the road had called them in hysterics. A very hateful, very sleepy neighbor.
Dave, the owner of the farm, fended the police off for a while. We turned down the volume a notch. It is in fact quiet out there, so we truly didn't need it dialed up to 11. This satisfied the police for a while, but at 10:30 we heard they were on their way back. We told the DJ to wrap it up (probably the most merciful thing to do, in fact) and, unsurprisingly, he chose to end the night some awful music, not on our playlist, that I do not care to recall.
Fortunately, by then, we were good and boozy, actually having a great time, and amused the unique distinction of having our wedding shut down by the cops.
So is it, in fact, just me - or was our wedding a little bit weird?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Nice Day for a White Wedding
While Emerson and I were on our honeymoon, we were (of course) constantly rehashing and reliving The Most Beautiful Wedding Ever, when we came to realize that our wedding was really, really white. Back before the book came out, we used to read Stuff White People Like, so we decided to see exactly how much white people would like our wedding.
First things first: the wedding was on a goat farm that we found by meeting the goat farmers at their cheese stand at the Farmer's Market. I mean, the whole wedding was practically an advertisement for a farmer's market, given the local and organic nature of nearly all the food as well as the flowers (#5 Farmer's Markets, #6 Organic Food).
The ceremony featured a brass quintet, obscure pieces by 19th and 20th century composers and a soprano solo sung in Czech, in clear expectation of our guests Appearing to Enjoy Classical Music (#108). We wore clothes that we found on eBay and in thrift shops (#49 Vintage). Also, one's attendance at the ceremony was the ultimate consecration of Having Gay Friends (#88).
The menus were printed on unbleached, recycled paper (#64 Recycling). As you have already read on this blog, we toiled and agonized to find exactly the right Wine (#24) and Microbrews (#23).
A solid majority of the guests were friends from Graduate School (#81), The Ivy League (#98), or both. Except for those who went to art school with Emerson (#47 Arts Degrees) or grade school with me (#16 Gifted Children).
And let's not forget about our honeymoon, which was just as white. Since we missed our early morning flight, we killed time by buying new iPhones (#40 Apple Products). It worked out great because we were able to take pictures of our honeymoon and upload them instantly to Facebook (#106). And while on our honeymoon we did many things that white people like, such as wine tasting (#24), doing things by the water (#51) and wearing outdoor performance clothing (#87).
And of course we capped it off San Francisco (#91), where we enjoyed the very best imaginable Sushi (#42). And the plane ride back? I'm almost ashamed to admit we brought the Sunday New York Times (#46).
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Holy Sh#t, We're Married!
I know that I should probably be doing something else other than blogging on the morning after my wedding but for some reason I am compelled to do so. So here we are.
We'll have a full wrap-up soon but I wanted to get a few thoughts down this morning.
The first thought is: holy shit, we're married! My second thought is, to quote the great Stephen Colbert: "Great wedding? Or greatest wedding?" My third thought is: Yuliya would be so disappointed.
I should probably leave it at that for now, but I will say one thing. My second favorite moment was when the horse galloped in triumphantly during the interlude and my favorite moment was when the burro came braying and kicking right after him. That's right. A burro.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Revised/Tentative Ceremony Music
Working with the brass quintet leader is fun. Starting with some raw ideas, we are shaping a great program together. The music - it is hoped - will suit the occasion and our taste as well as the enjoyment of the musicians. They should have fun, too, right?
Prelude: Three movements from Verne Reynolds (b. 1926) Suite for Brass Quintet.
Procession: One movement from Victor Ewald (1860-1935) Brass Quintent No. 1 in B-flat minor.
Psalm: "Boze! Boze! Písen novou" from Antonín Dvorák (1841-1904) Biblical Songs Op. 99.
Interlude: One movement from Paul Hindemith (1895-1963) "Morgenmusik."
Hymn: "Seek Ye First" by Karen Lafferty (b. 1948).
Recession: Three songs from Charles Ives (1874-1954) Four Songs for Brass Quintet.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Brassy
So, since we got engaged . . . Okay, I'll stop there. I was about to tell a lie.
Since well before we got engaged, I have wanted a brass quintet to play for the wedding. Through all our many hair-brained ideas and scouted locations, I imagined live brass in each of them. Almost nothing could be more extravagant, and make even a little picnic on a goat farm into an elegant and uplifting occasion.
Well, we got one! Miraculously, we can afford it.
But that's hardly half the story.
I would say I know more about modern and contemporary chamber music than the average person. Which is not saying much. I am certainly no connoisseur. Those people are crazy. But I know enough to name a half-dozen important composers I admire and pieces that move me. I have known for years that I wanted a brass quintet with the talent and flexibility to play something fresh and unexpected. No Pachelbel, no Vivaldi, no Titanic.
I thought that graduate students (or talented college students) would be ideal for this. They are hungry for opportunities to perform and make a little money, and they have a still-youthful passion for music that might broaden their palate. And, let me tell you that "contact your local college" is the most prevalent piece of advice in budget/DIY wedding guides. So, obviously people have done this with some success!
Knowing that our local "kudzu league" university has a pretty strong music program and a renowned student orchestra, I sent an email to their student president (it operates as both a curriculum and a club). He replied within a couple of days, and forwarded my request to the whole wind orchestra. I got two nibbles from individual musicians (a trombonist and a flautist, which . . . anyway), and one very promising reply from a young man leading a brass quintet of his own!
As you can imagine, I replied right away, and enthusiastically. But then - surprise, surprise - only silence for several weeks. I left messages on his cell and at his home, I sent probably six emails. Finally, we spoke.
All my hopes for a cheap-yet-boundlessly-creative student ensemble were dashed.
Not only was this group of students wildly more expensive than the highest estimated price I had encountered for professionals, but they really couldn't play anything other than standard boring wedding fare. Or, more accurately, "Faire," as they also specialized in Renaissance weddings.
Finding myself back at square one, I followed up with some students who had replied to my initial request, but found silence there as well. Undoubtedly, because it's summer, they were off doing exciting things in Malawi and at various law firms.
I contacted a well-known trumpeter, recommended to me by our dear and lovely soprano vocalist (more about her later), but after a month of waiting, he replied that he would be playing another wedding that day, and that three of the five members of his ensemble would be otherwise engaged, as well.
Finally, seeing no other options - and coming to peace with a brass-less wedding - I called the music booker recommended by our caterer. As you can imagine, lacking faith in our caterer, I had avoided taking this recommendation. I assumed the booker would offer us something both expensive and uninspiring.
Oh, was I wrong.
The booker was absolutely delightful. Professional, respectful, prompt and efficient. when I told her our budget she firmly committed to find us a quintet for "a lot less," and she did. Hallelujah!
But what I had not foreseen was that my above-average yet quite-limited knowledge of music would be called upon immediately, and quickly proven inadequate. The quintet needs a set list in just a few days, at the same time we send our deposit. We have an idea what "sound" we want, but can we (could we ever) possibly come up with a specific list of pieces?
Let me admit that very little good work has come out of my office these past two days, although I look as studious as a philomath in my office with the door closed. Am I busily writing proposals? No, sir. I am listening to the great works of Adams, Barber, Copland, Dahl, Ewald, Ives, Ligeti and dozens of obscure others, in order of descending popularity.
I am trying to guess which string quartets, which saxophone concertos, which piano sonatas will easily and beautifully transmogrify into brass chorales. Of course, I have no idea what this group of musicians can play or are willing to arrange or learn.
But there are two things I am sure of: we are having a brass quintet at our wedding, and I know more about modern chamber music than I ever imagined, but still a little less than those nutty fanatics.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Beta-Blockers
So I have been to a fair number of weddings this summer. The time it takes me to go from entering the wedding to crying tears of happiness is proportional to the number of days until my wedding, as the various brides and wedding guests can surely attest to. Probably a photographer or two as well. I am increasingly worried for my own pending nuptials.
I didn't used to be like this. I was a cynical, heartless viper when it came to all things treacle*. But now, for the love of God, I am an emotional wreck. I'm even crying right now. Seriously. It's a good thing I have my office to myself. I am truly afraid that I am not going to be able to get through the processional without my face becoming puffy and bloated from the floodgates of joyful emotion. So I need a pro-active solution
I could try yoga or meditation or some other new-agey homeopathic touchy-feely garbage. But not only am I highly skeptical of anything remotely connected to mindful breathing or southern California, that stuff is, like, time-consuming. I believe in the quick fix; better living through modern chemistry. And here-in lies the problem.
They don't make don't-cry-at-your-own-wedding drugs. I know. I've looked.
I suppose social anxiety medicine would work but I know a guy who took propranolol before a public speaking event and, well, let's just say it was less than ideal. So maybe I'll just pop a few xanies right before and hope for the best. It's not like I have to remember anything more complicated than "I do."
*This might not be entirely accurate. Some of you may remember the time(s) when I (theater geek alert!) sobbed uncontrollably when Gavroche was shot. And maybe Fantine. And others. But I did not, I repeat, did not cry during Miss Saigon. A boy must have standards.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Don't Cry Out Loud
Michael and I have a certain problem in common: we are both pretty much on the verge of tears at all times. It takes approximately one drink and the rhythm guitar opening of Love Is a Battlefield to get us seriously sobbing. Our wedding ceremony is destined to be a tear-drenched mess of Terms of Endearment proportions.
Since alcohol won't help, and we've successfully avoided Xanax so far, what can we do to keep the emotional outbursts in check? Aromatherapy? Yoga?
I'm a little bit unsteady right now, just thinking about it! We are strong . . . no one can tell us we're wrong . . .
Monday, April 7, 2008
A Fine Day for English Majors (and Those Who Love Them)
Stanley Fish, about whom I harbor no strong feelings or opinions, has written an agreeably simple review of a forthcoming book called "French Theory" (&c. with a long subtitle). Dr. Fish's review appears as part of his blog on the New York Times website. He devotes most of the review describing what we would have called (in grad school) the "contours" of French theory, which is to say that "French theory" is shorthand for something very diverse and hard to define, and quite special without being too important.
Dr. Fish points out that "deconstruction," which is really just a way of reading, became a weapon of choice for many participants in the "culture wars," which made and lost many fortunes and careers. He also points out that the "culture wars" are simultaneously more amusing and more frustrating when viewed through the lenses of deconstruction.
A wedding, too, is the very sort of thing that deconstruction is a good tool for examining.
As I read, I was reminded of a lovely text that appeared in Harper's several years ago, and which often comes to mind when I feel that I have to explain why we are having a wedding that has no legal meaning when all our friends and family already know the strength and value of our "united state."
The text I remember is the wedding ceremony of a college professor and an artist, as delivered by the judge who officiated at the event. I hope you will read the whole thing, because, although it is quite heady, one gets a sense of the sweetness that the couple shared. Maybe the most important passage is the one that says this:It is misguided to think that what validates a wedding ceremony is the making public of innermost feelings, and the sincerity or earnestness thereof. That may be a satisfactory performance, but it is beside the point of the wedding vow.
This is one of the things that I tried to express in my earlier post about sacraments. And, it is also one of the reasons why we have chosen to cleave as closely as possible to a traditional Catholic ceremony, rather than a personalized one: it is not "as if somehow the more heartfelt and confessional your ceremony is, the more married you are."
Indeed, although our feelings that have brought us to this point, we still believe that marriage has a permanent, objective value for us, for our families, and for our community. So the wedding ceremony has to have a bigger scope, and it truly should not be "all about us."
We will take some small advantage of having a wedding outside the traditional institutional structures of Church and state. Our Scripture readings, for example, are some that you are unlikely to have heard at any other wedding, but they probably won't leave you scratching your head either.
I plan to write more about the legal, social, and political meanings of our wedding over the summer -- and, like it or not, it will carry some meanings in each of those realms. I hope that by deconstructing this thing, this event, this day -- at its heart it should always be mostly a party -- we can do a better job of getting down to the core business of making something happen.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sunrise/Sunset cont...
In an earlier post, I mentioned how perfect it was that sunset was going to be during the cocktail hour, right before dinner. We were very proud of ourselves for inadvertently planning around the rotation of the earth. However, we have recently made several observations, after discussions with photographers, that give us pause.
Our wedding is three weeks after the fall equinox. This weekend is three weeks before the spring equinox. Thus, physics and astronomy being what they are, this weekend should have been a very good indicator of what the sun will look like on our wedding day. And let me tell you, the lighting at 5pm is horrible! It gets dark a lot sooner than you might expect a day to get when sunset is officially at 6:45 pm.
We are therefore fairly certain that the ceremony will be at 4pm now, rather than at 5pm. Because as much as we reject many notions of traditional wedding photography, lighting remains one of the few things we cannot defy.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Country Roads
We took Michael's parents out to the farm on Monday, which turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny, 70-degree day. I could tell they had misgivings before we left. Perhaps because we had forewarned his mother and sister that they should wear closed-toe shoes to the wedding on account of the goat poo. But when Michael's dad stepped out of the car, he said, "It is gorgeous out here!" One parent down, three to go!
Elodie Farms is a real, working goat farm. It's not a stage-set for rural fantasies like le Petit Hameau or this place in Apex. That means there are live animals and they poo right where they're standing. They also make noise and smell . . . um, earthy. It may be a bit too rustic for some tastes, but I find it irresistable.
The family warmed up to the rustic setting very quickly. Thanks undoubtedly to the lovely weather and the pretty drive through the hills of Durham County's old tobacco country. Thanks as well to the abundance of adorable baby goats, stumbling all over the property.
This is an exciting time of year because February is kidding time. Anne, who operates the farm along with its owner Dave, says that they expect 75 kids this month. That means lots of nursing mothers, which means lots of goat milk, which means marathon hours of cheese making. Hopefully some of that cheese will end up on the buffet at our wedding. We are nuts for the stuff, and it is hard to come by. Last fall we tasted their Goat Gruyere melted over French onion soup--divinity in a bowl.
We are also hoping that the new barn will be built in plenty of time for the big day. The old barn is coming down now, though its half-demolished skeleton looks no worse than the shambles it was. Dave and Anne are assembling the financing they need for the new construction, which will be able to accomodate more guests for their renowned monthly dinners and weddings like ours, as well as meetings and retreats. It will also have a new dairy and a cheese kitchen. I hope that our commitment to them and the guarantee of future business earns them points on their loan application!
After cooing and admiring the kids, and watching Gunndi gleefully run around with the farm dogs, Michael's mother and I took a look at the farmhouse porch where we plan to have the rehearsal dinner and the cocktail hour. It's a 100-year-old house with graceful proportions and lanterns that hang from the eaves in front. A bit run-down but undeniably quaint. One of the dogs had left a rather mutilated carcass--some kind of mammal--right on the step. I think that tops the list of unwanted wedding gifts. Michael's mom may require a little more persuasion than his dad.
Wear those closed-toe shoes, ladies!
Friday, February 15, 2008
Break Bread/Cut Rug
Both of us grew up in the apparatus of Catholic education--some combination of Catholic schools and CCD--during a time when the so-called Baltimore Catechism was no longer taught and had not yet been replaced. Our religious education was somewhat unbounded and had a very different flavor from that which our parents received, which was quite classical and involved the memorization of many definitions and rules. But we were, like our parents, made to memorize something specific that stays with me:
"A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give grace."
These days, it's far more common to hear sacraments described as milemarkers, ceremonies that highlight and bless certain passages in life. This is a grace, for sure. But in planning our wedding, we have hoped to retain some of the old-fashioned sense of "giving grace." It is not merely describing an event, but it is bringing about a fundamental change. It might be doing something, dare I say it, supernatural.
We also hope to retain the role of Christ. There is no shortage of people who think it odd that we remain committed and practicing Catholics. There are many who assume we are the "wink-and-a-nudge" kind of Christians--that we are in it for the showbiz. Speaking for myself, if not for Michael, it's not the "outward sign" part that keeps me practicing the sacraments. It's the Christ, and the grace.
This sacramental sense should be felt in every part of our wedding day. From the ceremony to the dinner to the dance party. There's a reason why this wedding-day structure is the norm: because it fits the way we humans experience encounters with grace. We pray, we share, we celebrate. We are not going to water it down by replacing the scriptures with love poems, or substituting speeches for prayers. We have selected readings that are so full of revelation that they blow my mind every time I read them. We have been scouring the missal and Book of Common Prayer for the right words and the right order of parts. And when the disco music starts, we may turn into a different sense of ceremony, but it ought still to be elevating of the soul!
