wed 2.0
Woo-hoo! The second half of our wedding! I guess we could call that “Wed 2.0,” but we wouldn’t want Tim O’Reilly to sue us. He is a lawyer, ya know.
Everything was pretty much cooked and mixed and moved and decorated and so on during the week leading up to the wedding. So as noon rolled around, Dad and Jane and I had the luxury of just kind of hanging out and gabbing while Lynn and Avalon got their manicures.
can we do this?
Around quarter of two, one of my many brothers-in-law showed up with the rental chairs, and we packed them into our living room and dining room. Noelle, our awesome neighbor from across the street and an accomplished violinist, brought her instrument and her family over. The house began to fill with music.
The guests were still finding their seats as I heard the dulcet tones of my sweet bride’s voice from upstairs: “can we do this?!?” We tried to get the guests into their chairs. We tried candy. We tried threats. Finally, all were seated, and I nodded to Noelle to shift the music into processional mode.
Avalon drifted regally down the stairs, scattering rose petals with her white-gloved hands. Mindy and Lynn followed, and Lynn’s dad escorted her down the ten-foot aisle to her eager groom.
Kathryn Harrington, our Metro Councillor (Metro is the nation’s only democratically elected regional government), introduced herself and welcomed everyone. She asked me if I wanted to say a few words, and I replied, “How about a song?”
love song with a curse
You don’t get too many love songs with the word “curse” in the title, I explained to the guests. In this case, the title, “Curse of the Poets,” refers to the heartache you can bring down on yourself when you listen too much to what old dead guys had to say about love. The beauty of their words becomes a curse if you expect your love to look just like that. The real thing is much bigger, much more dislocating, and much cooler, but you have to get past all those second-hand ideas first. So, here’s “Curse of the Poets:”
I see you in shade No light of my own I, consumed long ago By the curse of the poets, I Time ago, the earth once held the heels Of a soul that could walk with weight Now how time mocks: "What sensitive eyes you have!" Gone, dead is the one Who once pointed and named "home" In the arms of the faithless, The faceless, the no one Oh, what chance did they have When measured against a lie? Scissor blades slash, the pattern is rent, Nonsense scrawled on the map of a life, Eyes that stare dumb At verse that once meant something Oh, perhaps truth on paper, From qualified poets But in life no life at all, An empty construction, I Oh, fill up the air With string vibrations And reason must shout To try and keep up So, what’s left of a man Built out of empty air? A few molecules in tenuous relation No -- an idea proven false, A dream unrecalled and gone All that is left Is given freely to you A strange offer, perhaps, A coin unstamped with worth, A courage untested by any real proof True as the empty sky, One like a blade of grass So: incomplete But yours nonetheless, I
The two lines about sky and grass in the final stanza are a nod to Rumi, an old dead guy who got it right.
vows
- K*: Repeat after me—I, Lynn, promise to love, honor, cherish, and obey.
- L: I, Lynn, promise to love, honor, cherish, and oh-no-you-didn’t just say “obey!”
- K: I, Ian, promise to embrace the contradiction of a woman who keeps her Dostoyevsky on the same shelf as her Star Magazine.
- I: (repeats)
- K: I, Lynn, promise not to roll my eyes too much when you tear the house upside down looking for your keys and they’re right there on the dresser.
- L: (repeats)
- K: I, Ian, promise to help you raise a generation of fire-breathing progressives.
- I> K: Including the one due November 5th?
- I: Including the one due November 5th!
(wild cheers ensue)
- I: Avalon, wanna tell everyone what that means?
- A: (pauses from obsessively picking up rose petals) My mommy’s pregnant!
(wilder cheers ensue)
(phone rings)
- K: (answers) It’s the banker… uh-huh… uh-huh…. Okay, Lynn: Dees… or no Dees?
- L: (to guests) What should I choose?
(a bunch of “Dees” shouts from the guests, and one anarchic “No Dees” from her brother Rick; thanks, dude)
- L*: Okay, I choose Dees!
(wildest cheers ensue)
festivities
After the formal-ish part of the ceremony, we all introduced ourselves one by one. Rick, the shouter of “No Dees,” billed himself as “Lynn’s sister.” Don’t worry—he’s about to get his comeuppance for being a smartass the whole day. When Lynn’s longtime friend Ryan (Av’s “Auntie Ryan”) declared himself the “fairy godfather,” Lynn’s dad offered to set Ryan up on a date with “Lynn’s sister Rick.” Zing!
I turned my attention to the vital making of the guacamole, and we unveiled homemade hummus, curried lentils, and other treats. Soon, lubricated by good cheer and a little bit of Three Buck Chuck, the party was flying. We scattered throughout the house, spilled out into the beautiful weather, and talked the afternoon away. Av held court upstairs, sprawled Cleopatra-style across a couple of pillows with a “Bride to Be” crown on her head as the other children came to pay homage.
In our naïveté, we had planned for about a three-hour party. Ha! At six, we had plowed through the snacks and cake, and had to order a round of pizzas. At seven, we had to send out for pizza a second time. By bedtime for Av, we had to shoo the guests out the door.
brunch
We got Dad and Jane packed and off to the airport, and then began that last traditional wedding ritual: brunch with the stragglers. Lynn’s friend Brenna had brought her family in from out of town, so we met at the Sistine-Chapel-like Bella Espresso near their hotel. The kids ran feral and rode the concrete lions, while the rest of us sipped our fancy-pants drinks and nibbled on pastries—a fittingly sweet wrap-up to an incredible week.
