The Wedding of CR and JB

Yesterday, we missed the anti-Prop-8 protests so that we could attend the wedding of two men, both dear to us. Our dear Queen Mum, Chris, founder of our dance community, was one of the grooms. And his beloved, John, is someone we've known for years, since before he and Chris became a couple.

The wedding was held in a Unitarian church near their house south of Boston, a church built about 125 years ago in high Arts and Crafts style. When we arrived, we noticed that the doors separting the sanctuary from the parlor had been opened and rows of chairs were placed behind the pews. By the time the service started, nearly every seat was taken.

One of the joys of our community is that we knew well over half the attendees, many of whom had traveled from New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, western Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine, and perhaps points even further afield.

Both sets of parents were there -- John's from Wisconsin and Chris' mom and her partner from (I think) Rhode Island. John's incredibly supportive brother and his wife were also there (of course). We've met the latter several times and it was lovely to see them again.

The service was taken from a Unitarian wedding ceremony written around the time the church was built. It was formal, stately, elegant. God was mentioned just once. The minister, herself married for 43 years, is clearly very fond of the two grooms. Her sermon started out with some discussion of politics, especially noting John's invitation of a state rep to the church years earlier to discuss his position when he did not support gay marriage. Apparently, the talk changed the rep's mind at a crucial time in our history. The minister talked about the children of the church and how important the recent votes in this state will be to them as they get older.

The sermon turned personal, talking of John and Chris' love for each other and the important role the community plays in their relationship. Of course, the service swirled around themes of autumn and dance, of coming apart and coming back together, of natural rhythms in our lives and our relationships.

When it was time for Chris' mother to read her piece, she added an observation that short term memory is often the first thing to go. The chuckle that erupted from all of us rolled into a hearty laugh. I adore the idea of forgetting the fights and remembering the love, of starting with a new slate every morning, of coming more together than falling more apart.

As we spiraled into the pronouncement by the laws of Massachusetts (oh man, did we cheer), poor Chris started bawling. And John so sweetly took out his handkerchief and wiped away Chris' tears. I think we all shed tears at many points during the ceremony.

And then, to great cheers and much applause, the wedding party made its way up the aisle and to the reception, which was a high tea -- scones, cream, jams, and tea. We mingled and chatted, hugged, laughed, and explained to many people that, alas, we'd be unable to make it to the celebratory ball later in the evening. (Early reports say that it was wonderful. One of its features was a dance written by a member of our community, who also wrote the music. It is called Boston Marriage.)

Here's wishing the happy couple many many loving years together. What a great beginning for the next part of their lives.