Wish you were here...

I'd like to thank...

2007-10-03T06:41:00.000-04:00

It's not Academy Awards night, but we would not have looked as happy or rested as we did on our wedding day if not for a number of people who volunteered or willingly said yes when we asked for help. Most of them were busy behind the scenes. We couldn't have done this by ourselves. We certainly didn't.

The local team...

Marty and Lauren (thats "luh-RINN") Launer welcomed the intrusion of the wedding tent on their back forty, adjacent to the Danielson back forty. Then they volunteered their expansive side yard as a parking lot. And could not have been more generous throughout the crazy week before the event. According to TWIL, Marty gave her some crucial marriage advice. I owe you a beer, Marty! Thank you.

Wendy and Rob Roemer once offered to do anything we needed. And we took them up on it. They scouted babysitters, ran errands, found a P.A. system that was perfect (Rob: "wink, wink"), and even picked up one half of the day-after brunch at Wegman's for us. On top of that, they have their own child to take care of (not just us) and Rob fell ill on September 1. But nothing deterred them. Thank you.

Mike Ferro and Alan Betz, my brothers in law, brought a tent that the caterers would use to prepare the reception dinner. With little help, they set it up Wednesday before the wedding, saving us real cash. And after the brunch on Sunday, Mike's entire family - Ellen, Margot, Mike, Vincent, and Sam - took the tent down and left us free to mingle with guests. Thank you, Mike, my favorite Type B, for working so well with this Type A. Thanks, Alan, for spending your Wednesday off working with us.

Arlene Wright, Laurelyn's godmother (third from left), gave us great advice when we needed it and directed us to caterers and florists to interview early on. She pitched in to help arrange flowers, which was a gathering of skilled friends and family. Thanks for all your help Arlene, and thanks for your enthusiasm for the wedding preparations throughout.

Thanks too to Derek Vanderlinde for suggesting golf courses to which some folks almost made it. And thanks for one of the most memorable quotes of the wedding day: "John, you've convinced me. You've proved that what you did today - to say in your own words how you feel about the woman you love - is something I'll never do if I marry again. It was beautiful, but oh, boy."

Diana (Danielson), Laurelyn's sister (second from left with Arlene above), lent a hand throughout the weekend. She helped arrange flowers, transport Sunday brunch, and then bussed tables for brunchers when they headed home. Thanks, Diana, for saying yes when we needed help and pitching in above and beyond our requests.

Peggy Lynn, a singer, songwriter, and ur-friend from Auburn New York volunteered to sing at our wedding. She helped us select "Give Yourself to Love," singing it to us over speakerphone. It was her first suggestion and it was perfect. Peggy, your presence deepened the reverence of our wedding. Thank you for your generosity. For the rest of you, click on Peggy's name to learn more about her CDs, writing, and in-school programs.

Dave Coleman (with Peggy, above), who Peggy and I met when we were 16 and who's been a friend since, allowed me to take apart his (crazy powerful, high end) stereo and carry it to Rochester so that we could dance. Thanks for convincing me that we needed back up amplifiers. The last thing I imagined is that my system would fail. But then, I don't think like an engineer and you do. Thanks again.

Karen (Betz, nee Roberts) - a wiz at needlework (who knew?) - insisted on repairing the broken strap of the wedding dress on Sunday morning so that TWIL didn't have to have the repair made when she returned to Boston. Thanks for helping and for your part in the "stoned" toast.

The nationwide team...

Carlie (Danielson) took charge of the Sunday brunch for us, which amounts to volunteering to run a small restaurant for a half day, so that we didn't have to. It was beautifully set up and smooth running. Thanks again, Carlie for applying both taste and project management skills. And thanks for all the photos of the wedding.

Carlie began working on a PSI malaria education and prevention program in Myanmar in September. Word is she's safe despite the crackdown on monks and citizens protesting in the capital Yangon. And she's thrilled to witness history in the making. She encourages everyone to support U.S. and multinational opposition to the governing junta, which has repressed and impoverished the nation since it violently took over in 1988.

Chris Danielson arrived early in the week before the wedding and took orders from me, TWIL, and, well, others. Which isn't easy, but meant a lot of tasks that make the place beautiful were done well: from lawn mowing, to figuring out how to hang the strings of lights, to cuing he ceremony music, and keeping the tunes spinning during the reception. Thanks Chris. Thanks too to Jessica (Franco) who braved my perfectionist's judgment and hung the wishes that were the backdrop. You've seen the photos. Beautiful. Thanks, Jess.

Kevin Peagram, who's good company anytime, as many of you discovered if I read the photos correctly, hung around until late on Sunday afternoon helping us lower and disassemble the strings of lights and pack the paper lanterns, which are now on their way to another wedding taking place this month. Thanks, Kevin.

Finally, thanks to Eric and Gloria (right) and Edi and Candace, who ferried cars full of stuff back to Boston for us. It took us four months and five trips to stockpile for the wedding and we would never have made a dent in putting our lives back together without your help.

Snorkeling - 1

2007-10-02T15:19:00.000-04:00

On Moorea, we snorkeled in cool-running current between two motu (tiny coral islands) where were saw a dozen kinds of coral and still more fish. This is the Turbinaria coral, as best I can determine.

On Bora Bora, we swam with sting rays as part of an outing that included swimming with sharks. First, the rays. Everyone asks about that guy, Steve Irwin, who was killed while swimming with sting rays (click on his name for an account of his death). The cardiologist we rode a shuttle boat with said that the man's mistake was removing the stinger, which against all odds had pierced Irwin's heart. We agreed that we would resist the urge to remove any stingers from our stabbed hearts, should it come to that.

In fact, the rays are accustomed to being fed and surrounded us like eager goats looking for clover. But they were so large (2 - 3 feet across) and so soft and graceful that the entire party of gawkers giggled uncontrollably the closer they came. There are three rays found in the Polynesian islands: eagle or spotted, sting, and manta. We saw the spotted ray from a distance, but were disappointed about not seeing the manta ray.

Sightings

2007-09-28T13:46:00.000-04:00

Yes, we're back. About two weeks now and TWIL has not written because she's been working long hours. I have not written because I've been fixing plumbing and managing the blues with quantities of ice cream. While it makes me happy to think back on the wedding and the honeymoon, it's over. Sigh.

We're leaving behind days of elation. See?

There you all were. Pretty and intent and full of congratulations and hors d'oeuvres. And there we were. Breaking our faces with smiles.

And paradise. Lost.

I know, I know. Not lost, but certainly far behind us in Bora Bora. But before you complain that I'm whining - we're grateful beyond words - thanks for being a part of it all. As I said to anyone who didn't have time or opportunity to hear a longer version, I'm having the time of my life. Now that we're married, I'll speak for Mrs. Roberts, too. She agrees.

Watch for more of the honeymoon adventure.

And back again, sigh

2007-09-19T09:34:00.000-04:00

How Many Days Left???!!!!!

2007-08-17T06:57:00.000-04:00

Take a look at the countdown timer above and you'll see the reason for the exclamation points. In fact, we're good. We're set. I'm pulling out hair in clumps, but it's a good look on me.

Last weekend we visited Rochester for final meetings, discussions, and generally buying up everything that wasn't nailed down. Here are some highlights.

I don't understand what went wrong when we visited the Little Bakery. We discussed the cake, the decorations, the delivery time, and then, no samples. See if I ever get married again.

Chi Wah! Her hair styling kung fu is very strong! Don't believe me?

To be fair, that's Ashley behind TWIL. Right before Chi Wah, her boss, gave her a prolonged, impromptu lesson. I missed most of it. I was "buying beer" for the "wedding reception." Wink, wink.

And then, what about the shower that Laurelyn's colleagues hosted for her? Here are some pictures up to the time before the stripper arrived.

Wishes for the Ceremony

2007-08-09T08:00:00.000-04:00

When you get the most important people in your life together, the place is full of good wishes.

We are making that idea tangible in our ceremony, but we want to ask you to participate, too, if you’d like. At the wedding, we’re going to stand before a backdrop made up of small flags strung between trees. We’d like to have your wishes written on them.

Some of you have already written one or two of these.

We borrowed the idea from the Buddhist tradition of printing prayers on flags. When the wind stirs, according to the Buddhists, the wind prays the prayers. At our wedding, your wishes will wash over us as the breeze passes our flags.

We’ll also ask some of you to invoke those wishes for us during the ceremony. They’re emblematic of the way you - the community of people that loves us - uphold us with hope and friendship.

For those of you who grew up in Episcopal churches, you may also recognize a similarity between the wishes of the community and the multiple blessings pronounced as the penultimate step of holy day liturgies. This moment always stirred me. It culminates the ceremony and points the way to tomorrow. It calls on God to act, and on worshipers to appropriate the mystery they've participated in. And because the words are crafted to rise like a musical crescendo, the moment of stillness after the last blessing rings with hopefulness. That's why I wanted to emulate that moment in our ceremony.

If you choose to write a wish for our wedding backdrop...

You can email us your wishes and we’ll transcribe them.

Or,

If you’re attending the rehearsal dinner, we will have paper and pens there for you to write your wish.

Or,

If you arrive early at the ceremony, you will have an opportunity to write a wish for us there. Of course, we’ll need a little time to hang them up. (Latecomers' wishes may not all be hung on the backdrop. This is purely a practical matter, you understand, given the limits of time and space.)

We want to give everyone the opportunity to write a wish, but this is request and an offer, not requirement. We just don’t want you to be left out.

Our Enthisiasts' Guide to Rochester: Lets SHOP!

2007-08-07T07:54:00.000-04:00

Rochester Public Market
Open weekdays from 6:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.

LL says – One of the best public markets I have been to. I have been to others in Boston, Cleveland, Washington DC.. And Seattle may be the only one that could better it.

John says, “It really is a fine market. Stop and see Juan of Juan and Maria’s Empanada. Love them and their little pastry pockets.”

Parkleigh

LL says – Great store down on Park Ave. with a little bit of everything.

John says, “It is a cute store with some original merchandise and a find selection of chocolates. L. loves this place for what it is and what it was when she was younger.”

Park Ave. Shopping Information

LL says – Tree-lined streets parallel with the grand mansions on East Ave. It’s a great place to walk around after a visit to the nearby Eastman House. Shopping and food options are almost all good.

John says, “It’s the village street that’s most like our neighborhood in Somerville and the experience no planned community can quite bottle. Don’t be misled though. It’s small and the experience brief.”

The Eastview Mall

LL says – Best selection of stores in Rochester including the people who bring you the magic of crystal (okay, Swarovski, my employer).

John says, “Sure, I’ve been here, but what about
2 Vine? What about Abbotts? What about the Museum of Play!”

The Marketplace Mall

LL says – Not bad but no J.Crew. You can sub in EMS and DSW for other options available.

John says, “Museum of Play, Museum of Play, Museum of Play! Fine! I will wait in the car!”

And Rochester has its own wiki: RocWiki. See what locals say you should do, buy, and eat.

Our Enthisiasts' Guide to Rochester: Lets GO!

2007-08-06T07:31:00.000-04:00

The Strong Museum of Play

LL says – Never been myself but I hear it is fun. They have a butterfly-shaped (architecturally) room that is filled with many varieties of live butterflies.

John says, “Makes you wonder. Exhibits of games and toys from childhood? No, that can’t be it. Please, please, please, please can we go?!!!!!!”

The Eastman House and Museum

Exhibit going on the week of the wedding - Ansel Adams: Celebration of Genius

LL says - The best photography museum I have visited. Eastman was revolutionary.

John says, “Everyone from the region visited during high school. You didn’t appreciate it and you know it. You don’t have any excuse not to go again. And you’ll see movies here that are not showing anywhere else.”

Memorial Art Gallery

LL says – MAG is the fine art museum in Rochester. Been there many times.

John says, “I have to get out of the house more.”

Rochester Museum and Science Center

LL says – The planetarium is playing a rocket film and an under the sea film that are beamed over their round theater screen the week of the wedding. Pre-Imax baby!

John says, “Pink Floyd laser light shows. No comment necessary.”

Casa Larga winery

LL says – Wine tasting anyone?

John says, “Literally, ‘house of extra large.’ I’ll pass.”

High Falls Downtown

For walking tour information for the high falls area, see: http://www.cityofrochester.gov/index.cfm?id=648

LL says – When I was a teen I climbed under a fence, into an abandoned building and down a drainage pipe and saw the falls from below. They’re nice from above too!

John says, “She’s really lived, this little woman of mine.”

Seabreeze Amusement Park

LL says - The Jack Rabbit is the third oldest operating roller coaster in the country. (It’s old school…made of wood.)

John says, “She said ‘wood’. Heh, heh, heh.”

Mount Hope Cemetery

LL says - You can take a tour or just stroll through
on your own. Mt. Hope Cemetery is one of the most remarkable Victorian cemeteries in America.

John says, “Also here. Another place I haven’t been. I can wait. I feel pretty good; recovering nicely. Getting better all the time.”

Seneca Park Zoo

LL says – Lions, tigers and bears, oh my!

John says, “Oh dear.”

The Little Theater

LL says – Only independent Movie theater in Rochester. They serve brownies and pastries that can you can bring into the theater.
John says, “See a movie and help keep this kind of operation open. ‘You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone…’.”

Our Enthusiast's Guide to Rochester: Let's EAT

2007-08-03T07:40:00.000-04:00

This is the first in a series of things to do, see, and eat in Rochester. TWIL is the enthusiast. I am the arriviste (read "jaded"). You be the judge.

Best “ice cream”: Abbots Frozen Custard – Chocolate almond frozen custard is the crowd favorite.

TWIL says, "Creamy, yummy, better than ice cream."

John says, “Why haven’t I been there?”

Best original burger: Don’s Original. The fries and dogs are delicious, too.

TWIL says, "The fries are greasy and salty and perfect. The charred Zweigle’s dogs couldn’t be better."

John says, “Reminds me of the first fast food burger I had in Auburn at Carrol’s Drive In. But better.”

Lunch on Park Ave: Hogan’s Hideaway (next to Parkleigh)

TWIL says, "Soup and salad in a crunchy atmosphere."

John says, “Do your imitation of Col. Klink. They love that.”

Best Pizza: Pontillo’s

TWIL says, "What can I say... I love it. They do something with the cheese…"

John say, “…Unspeakable things. Yeah, it’s good, traditional pizza, but I don’t know what the hubbub is about.”

Best Pancakes: Perkin’s. Like an IHOP, but better.

TWIL says, "Been eating these since I was a tyke…Ahhh, the silver dollars."

John says, “Breakfast? You have to be awake for that, don’t you?”

Best Italian: Veneto Wood Fired Pizza & Pasta (318 East Avenue, Rochester, NY 14604, 585- 454-5444)

TWIL says, "This is one of my bro’s favorites. You get atmosphere but the cheese is nothing like Pontillo’s."

John says, “Now this is some good pizza. She doesn’t know flavor. Cheese maybe, but flavor?”

Best Bakery: The Little Bakery

LL says, "The cake is great and even I like the frosting."

John says, “All their baked goods are above average, but it was the buttercream frosting that sold me on their wedding cake.”

Best Elegant Restaurant: 2 Vine Restaurant. A mix of delicious foods - gourmet, fresh ingredients.

LL says, "Very nice, almost like we’re in Boston."

John says, “I notice that we haven’t been here either. I suspect there’s an old flame still burning in the kitchen.”

Best Grocery Store: Wegman’s

LL says, "There’s no place like Weggies… There’s no place like Weggies… There’s no place like Weggies! This is what I miss most from Rochester…well, my family then Wegman’s, I guess. Everything about it is delicious. The bread, the “Swiss chocolate chunk” cookies…I am speechless."

John says, “Please. If it weren’t for Wegman's people would not leave their homes all winter. It is a great grocery store. But I repeat, a grocery store.”

Best BBQ: Dinosaur BBQ

LL says, "Not quite Blue Ribbon, our local fave, but the best in upstate."

John says, “Ditto. But as my friend Tim correctly says, 'It isn't a meal if it doesn't squeal.'”

Best Steak Place: Scotch and Sirloin

LL says, "A Danielson favorite. Wear stretchy pants!"

John says, “You might as well. Everyone else does.”

Next time...Fun (close by), edifying (if not the Grand European Tour), and big (keep your expectations in check) things to do.

Play it as it lays

2007-08-02T07:51:00.000-04:00

No, not that kind of golf.

For those of you who signed up, you can look forward to 18 holes in Walworth at Greystone Golf Club (click the title of this post to see the course site).

I salute you, but hold fast to the opinion that golf is a good walk spoiled.

According to the club's site, this is a Scottish style course, brought to you by the people who's national celebratory meal is a stuffed sheep stomach. Expect to be tormented by the pot bunkers and other hazards - blue-faced, kilted greenskeepers springing out of sandtraps and rushing at you with niblicks swinging to preserve the pride of William Wallace.

In fact, the course looks like this.

Fore! In case you didn't receive my email...

2007-07-27T11:39:00.000-04:00

To our guests: Golf anyone?

Here’s the first opportunity of the wedding day to win a couple bucks from another guest …

Who: You? If you’d like to play, email me and I’ll work on setting up tee times.

When: Saturday morning before the wedding, probably about 8:00 a.m.

Where: TBD

Caveat: I don’t know the availability of tee times or the difficulty of scheduling them on Labor Day weekend. So I’ll make calls early next week (Tuesday 7/31) based on your responses and do the best I can to put you on the fairway.

We're even predicting the weather

2007-07-24T10:14:00.001-04:00

What's it like over the Fairport wedding meadow right now? See the new weather widget in the sidebar (right).

According to The Weather Channel, the predicted high temperature on September 1 is 76(F). Bring a sweater for the evening.

T-minus five weeks. Happy-sad.

2007-07-23T12:03:00.000-04:00

You'll notice from the progress bar that most of you have told us that you are or are not joining us for the wedding. As it turns out, we were worried about the wrong things: overstuffing the tent, breaking our caterer's back, and driving my patient in-laws to "what are we going to do with all those people?"

When we created the guest list, we knew we'd have to make some difficult decisions. But in the end we invited most of the people who live in our imaginations week in and out. You are the folks we admire, whose model shapes a facet of our lives, the ones we delight in keeping company with. I know we don't see you as often as we might. But you can't turn off our affection even if you want to. Of course you have lives, budgets, and a less-than infinite capacity for inviting family turmoil by decamping to Rochester for two days.

Relieved that everyone has chairs and meals and cake, we are sorry we won't face the happy problem of fitting some of you in. To those of you who are coming, be sure to grab a beer and raise it to the friends and loved ones far away.

Marriage is different

2007-07-17T08:14:00.000-04:00

Before we were engaged, we did not do any of the following:

Hold weekly project management meetings (See photo; There's no "I" but plenty of "me" in "team.")
Discuss decorations for more than twenty minutes at a time
Seek an august description of love, commitment, and joy beyond those that served us today
Dance
Reflect on our taste in music (Two parallel lines drawn to infinity never intersect)
Manage vendors (Or allow ourselves to be managed)
Ask people for favors that under-use their abilities (Small but important tasks depend on people you trust)

Along the way, the goals of marriage come to light. TWIL may have others, but here are some of ours:

Generosity - to welcome and cheer
Entertainment - to delight and engage
Moment (See definition 4) - to pay attention to and express the richness of today's ordinary doings
Artfulness - to shape and form what you've got - time, choices, effort - in hopes of enriching those ordinary doings
Endeavor - to take on new challenges, not knowing for certain where they lead

When I say these are our goals, I mean that these what we offer one another without really thinking about it, what we respect about each other and fell in love with, and what we have aimed to do through the wedding plans. Let us know what you see.

DIY update

2007-07-08T08:55:00.000-04:00

I wish I could report that we're going to yoga classes and deepening our respect the essential profundity of a union that will change our lives forever. But we're cutting out paper circles and skimming the surface of world literature for just the right words to complement our ceremony.

To do list:

Plan lighting for reception; check Northeast power grid for weaknesses
Discuss readings: Neruda vs. Rilke, Levertov vs. Browning, Mad vs. National Lampoon.
Worry. Stop short of panic. Save panic for when you really need it.
Distribute "things to do list," directions, and schedule of events. Idea: can prison monitoring anklets be tracked from our cell phones? Size of parents', wedding parties' ankles?
Estimate wine and beer needed. (Enough = good time; too much = people telling the truth.)
Finalize music/dance mix. (Need: Foghat, Journey, Charlie Daniels Band)
Feed anxiety. Solicit stories of wedding fiascoes from friends and enemies. "It's got to come off better than that, right?" Right?

Suggestions?

Dowry or Brideprice? Ah, shucks, everyone pays!

2007-06-29T09:00:00.000-04:00

In the old days - pick some date in history about which you know nothing - dowry was assumed. The father paid the groom , depending on your view of the world, for the expense of setting up a household with his daughter, or as a signing bonus for shifting the cost of supporting the girl off his household profit and loss statement. The nearest thing to it today is the help ($$) that the bride's father (traditionally) gives toward the ceremony. And I've already said, though we've had help from many quarters, we're not having a traditional wedding.

What I was doing last week could be called "brideprice." But then, I volunteered. I spent the week with TWIL's dad and stepmom. We cleared brush, moved neglected piles of firewood, cleared some more brush, then pulled up patio paving stones and put down some that were far nicer, not just where they were but over a an area so wide that it's now the place where we'll have cocktails after the wedding. So you could call it "gullible," "sucking up," or for the good-natured among you, "only fair," because much as I love them, I would have to be crazy to do what they're doing. We love the way they're crazy.

Now, we did have help: Chris Danielson and girlfriend Jess Franco were in town from Boulder CO. He was laying paving stone, too, thank god. Another wedding guest and long-time colleague of Lee's, Peter Mear, was also hard at work. Mike Ferro, brother in law and husband of Ellen (sister), also spent 2/3 of a day humping stone like a Trojan (even though the cliches are right, it sounds wrong, doesn't it?).

Lee, Jean Roberts, Alan Betz (brother in law), and Karen Betz (sister). Apologies all around for this snapshot. Really, it's the best of the lot.

On Friday night, my sister Karen, her husband Alan, and their daughter Katherine came to a barbeque with my mom, Jean, and dad, Dave.

People often ask me, "John, what is Auburn like?"

2007-06-28T13:44:00.000-04:00

What they actually say is, "Ah, cold up there! You want another drink?", turn heel and ... zip.

When TWIL and I visited Auburn on my way to Rochester recently - more about that tomorrow - we quickly ran out of things to do. That happens in Auburn. In fact, everyone else was busy. Ellen and her kids were working and playing at the Reva Rollerdrome, which she owns with her husband Mike Ferro. Margot, my oldest niece is a competitive roller figure skater and anchor staff at the concession stand. (The joke in my house is that it's like being a great accordianist. We're so proud; don't encourage her.) Mom was cooking for the father's day cook out. Mom cooks every year about this time.

Thank goodness there's mini-golf. Notice there's no astroturf under TWIL's feet? It was that kind of game. And TWIL bested me by a mile.

Fortunately, there's a home-grown ice cream place, Reese's Dairy Stop (think DQ with seemingly infinite menu options) at the golf "course." Which is like shooting schools of fish in a small barrel with a depth charge. It was 11:00 a.m. when we finished our round of golf and I was already disappointed about waiting so long. Incredibly, they weren't serving soft ice cream. Which is what you pull off the road in the heat for if you grew up near Auburn and didn't have air conditioning in your car (that was a lot of us back then). You could have hard ice cream at home and the driver - always Dad - knew it.

It was already incredibly humid on a very changeable Father's Day. As the weather shifted, we tagged it with varying degrees of comfort. "This is an okay day for a wedding." "Feels like it's going to rain. Oh, boy." "Now this would be a little uncomfortable." "I'm going to die in that dress if it's like this." That's TWIL speaking last.

We're calculating how long it takes to get from the Wedding spot to Abbott's, the Rochester place for frozen yogurt. Bookish Girl says so. Me, I don't get into fine distinctions when it comes to ice cream products. More cream is better. But easy access and quantity trump any other criteria. Even two-dimensional ice cream will do in a pinch.

Avez-vous une billet doux pour nous? Countdown to RSVP

2007-06-15T09:00:00.000-04:00

Bills, bills, junk, and Ah, there it is! The note telling us you are coming to the wedding! Or even regrets. No. No, sorry. Maybe it's not yours after all.

Today marks exactly one month from the RSVP deadline date. We're dying of suspense daily when the stack of otherwise irrelevant mail bangs the bottom of the mailbox.

So eager are we that I created a tracker here at ...Bliss where you can see the percentage of you who have responded. See the pink bar on the right? Specifically, 45% of you have responded. What does that look like?, see photo exhibit A. To 45 percent of you, a thousand blessings on you and your house.

So type-A are we that sometime on July 16, you'll hear from us. First by email. Then by phone. Then, by sherrif and bounty hunter if need be. Oh, yes, you will.

Marriage Equality. Hooray for Massachusetts!

2007-06-14T14:33:00.000-04:00

When I wrote that marrying has taught me why everyone should be able to do this, and that they must get the rights that go along with it, I was not optimistic that the legislature would keep the question from reaching a statewide ballot. But my pessimism was vindicated today.

Deval Patrick, recently elected governor, played an important leadership role and deserves thanks, along with many other people.

Imagine for a moment that just a couple years after happily marrying, the state in which you live threatened to take away your marriage, and with it the rights that spouses enjoy. That's what some of our friends may have been facing if the measure was not defeated today. We couldn't be more relieved and happy.

To read the news story, click the title link.

Dear Dick: Where did we go?

2007-06-13T16:15:00.000-04:00

Dear Dick,

Where did she go? She was here just a minute ago.

Throughout the months and weeks leading up to the wedding, you see your fiancee in new lights. This is essential. This is the crucible. This is who she is. The calm and deliberate life you lead, that's shown you - oh, fill in a percentage here; much less than 100% - that's what you've seen so far.

At least one thing that you treasure about her will be the thing that leaves you feeling lonely between now and your wedding. At the shower, I looked up - I know I've told you about this, Dick. I did, didn't I? Yeah, this round's on him, bartender - So I look up and sure enough, I can see her, but it's not really her. Take a look at the photos. She's focused on the person she's talking to. She wondering if everyone is enjoying themselves. She's aware that there are four people she hasn't talked to and she's carrying on an internal discussion about whether she should worry - no, she shouldn't worry she tells herself. But she breaks away anyway and turns her highbeams on them. All the while she keeps an eye on the room in peripheral vision. The one person she's not worrying about is me.

I love focus of her attention. It's mostly generous and forgiving. It's mostly supportive and kind. Better than these tritenesses, it's mostly mine. Not now. It's for the rest of you. You'll see, Dick.

And I'll be doing the same. Have you got enough to drink, did you meet my mother, I'm not saying anything about your tie (or your shirt or your shoes) - I'm NOT. I don't know if she's looking for me. Or at me. I'm fine. At the end of the day, like the end of the shower, she looks at me with fires banked low and rolls over to sleep. I note to myself that it feels we're far apart. I note she's recharging, not keeping secrets. She's fine and she's not lying when she says she's fine. But you feel alone, Dick. Alone. Which you are. The delight of love is that you don't feel the isolation of being an individual. But that doesn't change the facts.

And then, one or two or three days later, she's back. So are you. You're glad to see each other again. Saved by the hope that you're not really alone in the world. It loomed close, just to remind you that you can't cure the problem of being alive. But this is your break from too much reality. Just one of the hopeful illusions that sustains you between now and the wedding.

Don't be surprised, Dick, when she disappears. And don't give her that look when she reaches out, touches you and doesn't find you. Patience. You'll both be back in no time.

Trivia of the first order

2007-06-07T17:16:00.000-04:00

When we met for the shower, Jenni asked people trivia questions to learn more about us, or to embarrass us, or I don't know, to see if we knew anything about each other. Regardless, now you can play, too.

And see how players are doing at the trivia scoreboard.

They Came from Municipalities Far, Far Away

2007-06-04T09:22:00.001-04:00

Thanks to all of you who traveled, got baby sitters, left kids with spouses, got on planes, took hotel rooms, ate too much at restaurants around town and spent some part of the weekend lost and looking for the next meeting place or gathering point.

To see a map of places shower guests came from, click the title of this post.

Look at You!

2007-06-03T15:49:00.000-04:00

I've added a link to flickr where you can view shower pictures. See the changing tiny pictures at the right? Click that, which will display a page like this:

See those smiling faces? That's my brother in law Mike Ferro and my sister Ellen.

Now, look at the red rectangle at the right. You can scroll through a filmstrip of the photos by using the left and right arrows (shown in gray). If you click on word "browse" (also in gray) between the arrows, you'll see all the shower photographs that we thought were worth posting.

If you send me your photos, I'll be happy to add them to wedding shower group at flickr. And soon you'll hear from Jenni, the matron of honor (oh, that sounds so wrong) about where you can find photos from the same event and have them printed to your local Target or Walgreen's stores.

Not Just Another Day

2007-06-03T07:12:00.000-04:00

Lovely, sweet and thoughtful. These are the kinds of things people say about showers. But nobody warned me that the horizon would tip thirty degrees and the contents of our lives slide into one corner. To everyone else, it's lovely. To us, we're overwhelmed by - well - all we could come up with yesterday was "weird."

Over pasta, of all things, the people you dance with meet the people you've known since high school and the people from work meet the people who gave you life and birth. And they are uniformly delighted and curious about one another. All their good wishes are aimed at you. All their curiosity is aimed at uncovering a bit of you in the lives of the other people you love.

Somewhere between the speechlessness and the nervous darting of the eyes and the sudden realization that you have no idea where you fiancee has gotten to, it dawns on you: This wedding has the power to draw all the matter of life into one place. that queasy feeling is the shock of all the little slices of yourself that you shaved off and spread around to these two or those four come together with a clap.

All you can do is stand still and try to take it in, like powerful black hole that is drawing light from everywhere within range. And the best they can do is call it a shower! We'll be lucky if we don't explode on the wedding day.

Singing in the Shower

2007-06-02T08:44:00.000-04:00

The Bridal Shower, according to sources, is part of a tradition of helping the bride make up her own dowery with gifts from among friends. Without it, a woman was obliged to marry the man that would have her. With it, she could marry a man of her choice. Friends made up for her poverty in the name of love and sisterhood. It's a good story.

I'm inclined to believe the version of its origin that upper class Americans started the tradition in the age of robber barons. All America wanted what they wanted and the tradition spread unchecked in the last century, the way some girls will choose Paris Hilton's brand of jailhouse pumps. Regardless, it's here and the families have descended on Somerville like axis powers at Versailles.

Near-crisis one. A Certain Parent was delayed by the airline. The devil you say? Impossible! So Frank's Steak House got the first call of the evening from TWIL, "...Could we push that reservation back a bit? Oh, thanks and what's your name....?" In time, the plane landed.

Cellphones vibrated to a white hot heat. The rental car of a Certain Parent had been given away by Avis. Near crisis two. Not just any car. A car that would allow the favorite step dad to pack a wheelchair in the trunk and still swing into his seat. Amazing guy. No, the Ford Focus will not work as a substitute. "Hello, I'm sorry, what's your name again....? We'd like to push that reservation back a bit. Yes." And TWIL and I are thinking, this is good, as long as the ad hoc cocktail hour doesn't go on too long. Rochester and his wife are arriving; they can join us.

Near-crisis three. At the AmeriSuites in Medford, the hotel staff had given away a Certain Parent's room. Now, if you're me, and a so-called customer Service Person is politely telling you that the thing you paid for and reserved weeks ahead is gone and that they want to help you but, they're sorry, there are limited options, you're beginning to bemoan the scarcity of block ice as cooling method, because not that long ago, ice picks were a common commodity in any hotel and restaurant. And I've imagined many times how neatly a little justice might be served up with three or four perforations of the thorax of a smiling, powerless Service Person. But it was not me, gods be praised. Rooms were found, composure was regained, peace flowed like a river, and Frank's did not see a Certain Parent and Favorite Stepdad because they had too much sense to go out again looking for calamity to strike. In fairness to the hotel, whatever they did wrong, they more than made up for, by all accounts.

In the meantime, Ellen and Mike (my sister and brother in law, or BIL) landed in time to join us for the second half of the meal. That is, the part that is commonly known as eating. Joan, our waitress, was unfailingly great to us.

Go to Frank's. If not for the food, which was good, then to wait while crises pass over.

More wise and timely advice

2007-05-18T11:32:00.000-04:00

Juan of Juan and Maria's Empanada Stop and I were discussing how to get his terrific food into our wedding brunch on Sunday. All is in readiness.

As he explained that he'd look for a final payment when we pick up the meal, I offered,

"Not to worry. I will be writing a lot of checks that weekend."

"Speaking as a married man," Juan added, "It is not the last check you will write, my friend."

TWIL and I hit the Opinion page, Somerville Journal

2007-05-16T17:10:00.000-04:00

Somerville -

To the editor:

For eight years I thought that living with the woman I love was the same as getting married. A long stint of work in the South convinced me that our declarations of unending love were not enough. I wanted to marry. It was easy to ask; she said yes. Only then did I learn that marriage is different. Friends and family and all the institutions we call “society” line up behind you. No one questioned my right to do it. And a river of good wishes and generosity pours our way. That’s just one more reason I support marriage rights for everyone. It’s different than commitment, civil union or any other half-measure, no matter how well intentioned.

The differences of marriage are crucial. No one knows you better than your spouse; you want them to make decisions with you, for you, in life’s most important moments. That’s his or her right. I don’t want it any other way. Same with my assets. Same with the respect and sense of shared experience that married people recognize in one another. You know what I’m talking about. It’s different. Please don’t support a vote about the rights of other citizens, which could turn marriage into a separate, unequal estate just for straight people. We’re not better. We have no grounds to discriminate against those who just want what you want — to marry the one we love and exercise the legal rights that I once took for granted.

John Roberts
Whitfield Road

Go Postal

2007-05-12T07:23:00.000-04:00

It just goes to show you. You can't think of everything.

Yes, it was cold when we planned the invitation design and cold when we dropped the first bunches in the mail. And there was a stamp on the RSVP envelope that was sure to get it back to us. No more. Postage rates have gone up and $.41 is the new $.39. You'll need one of these - the two-cent, make-up rate stamp. Sorry for the inconvenience.

That way we'll be sure you RSVP reaches us. I bet it will anyway, but you know what Type As we are. If we don't know whether you're planning to attend, and maybe you mailed the envelope, but the government recycled it because it had insufficient postage - why not, it's just personal property, just a wedding - you know we're going to be on the phone with you on July 16. Better safe - two cents safe - than sorry?

Location Changes, small but significant

2007-05-09T11:57:00.000-04:00

We have found a great place. Leonard Berstein was right (West Side Story); there's a place for us.

First, for the rehearsal dinner gang, we're moving indoors to the dream house we've rented. Same time, but better location. Come with your toasts for an informal barbeque among the trees. Here's an example.

And therefore, the after-wedding brunch will be at the scene of the crime and where the extremely patient and generous Lee and Fran live, or will until we spoil their reputation in the neighborhood on Saturday 9/1.

You can see all the changes reflected in the Wedding Geography link in the side bar (right).

A couple of notes about reading the map.

Ignore the Main Street address at the top of the page. It's the address of the Del Monte and I do not know how to prevent it from displaying.
By clicking on links in the left column of our Google map, a pop-up window is displayed on the map. It tells key facts you need to know about the location.
I've added general directions using a kind of triptych line between start and end points, but if you know me, you know that you should stop and buy your own map once you get off the highway. I'm a pathetic guide. Consider yourself warned.
If you have questions or have discovered errors, don't look at me. No seriously, let me know if you find errors or recommend corrections.

Looking forward to seeing you at all the new familiar places.

It's Official

2007-05-07T09:28:00.000-04:00

We're engaged! Okay, the newspaper announcements in our hometowns were published some weeks ago, but the first great thing about visiting Rochester and Auburn is that we got the raggedy newsprint clippings into our hands.

For whatever reason, the Auburn Citizen didn't acknowledge the existence of my mother, Jean Roberts, who is still very much with us - oh, very much indeed! All of you with psychoanalytic backgrounds, talk amongst yourselves. The rest of you might remind her at the reception that, in the face of the local daily's fact-checking failure, you're glad she's back from the dead.

Many more Rochester anecdotes to come.

Dear Dick: Go ahead. Buy it.

2007-05-01T11:44:00.000-04:00

Some more advice for my friend, Dick - remember Dick? - who will marry in October.

Dear Dick,

Here is the cycle of wedding planning. You begin with a couple of images of intense emotion, even drama, in your imagination. That’s love and commitment prodding you with the sharp stick of risk. So you gamble on happiness. Intoxicating is the only word for it. The first dramatic moment – asking her to marry – goes off almost as hoped. Your expectations rise. You don’t notice them bouying you up, but they do.

What you imagine, what you feel, and what you can effectuate – see how they come together? Then come wedding magazines. Dick, I’m going to confess this so that you can come out, too. If TWIL’s appetite for these magazines was voracious, I never refused to flip the pages. I’d look at anything “bridal” printed on slick paper. Full of beautiful women rapt with emotion in elegant settings, they were full of great ideas. There, I said it. I tried to fight off writing that phrase, but no. I mean it. There’s the Spanish-inspired wedding accented in hues of sangria and and blood oranges. As the sun sets, the revelers carry on under crimson light and unending joy. It could be us. I could be you. Total cost of the magazine wedding: $80,000. Courage, man.

You’ll soon learn, Dick, what every wedding vendor wants you to have learned months ago. You can buy happiness. I resisted this, manfully, in every way. But listen. I haven’t become a drunken sailor on shore leave, but I’m converted. Go ahead and buy it. The happiness, I mean. But keep in mind that “happiness” is a cheap word. Getting a parking space or getting my way; these make me happy. That’s just, you know, human nature seeking it’s own level. I’m talking about “good fortune.” To be favored by the fates and gods and circumstance to find yourself with joy and honor and humility at once. Most people have the chance to be happy – fortunate – once or twice in their lives. And Dick, your wedding is one.

Here’s how it works. When you have spent all you can afford and others have spent great sums in gifts or travel or both, you will have nearly nothing left over. Reflect for a moment. The wedding is over, the tent comes down, the people go home, flowers die, memories fade (or are erased in the latter half of the reception), and you have, well, signs and symbols of the day. Rings, photographs, and souvenirs, such as the program. (And of course you have all those great gifts, many of which disappear into daily life – the pot, the waffle iron.) You can buy happiness if you do not focus on the things you’re buying.

When everything is past you will have bought a moment of time that cannot be repeated. Never again will these friends see you cracked open like a nut full of love and hope. And that meal? (Funny how anything less than $100 per serving begins to sound like a great deal, isn’t it?) This ancient experience of sitting down with the clan to share your excess out of affection, no other meal will be like this. They will not hear your vows again. They will not raise an eyebrow at some cute cousin or stylish aunt and reflect that youth and hope comes around again, and pronouce that it’s good. And conclude for a day that living, just living, is pretty damned good.

Only you can do this. Bring them in, show them love, sit them down to feed them well, and invite them to lose their senses a bit. Go crazy on the dance floor. Laugh until you cry with her dad, your mother, the brothers. Spend what it takes to bring all these base elements together and the catalyst that changes them to gold. It’s in the air, between beery breaths and perfect dusk. It’s good fortune’s inspiration granting more than you asked for.

Hmmm...

2007-04-30T08:35:00.000-04:00

The Registry and Generosity

2007-04-17T07:01:00.000-04:00

Marriage unleashes generosity. People want to help, to give, to play a part. It thrills, delights, and embarrasses. As it should. We did nothing to deserve it. But we're getting used to the feeling of not being worthy and learning to say "thank you" without comment.

"Want" not "need" is the word that describes the desires of our household. If you've visited us at home, you know that after living together for five years, we need nothing to entertain guests, throw a party, or make complex entrees and desserts. In fact, we're running out of room to store the good stuff we have. We also know that we won't be able to hold back the tide of generosity. Here follow, some ideas to help you channel your good thoughts and wishes.

We have planned a once-in-a-lifetime honeymoon trip to Tahiti. We would welcome best wishes in the form of activities we can do in paradise. At the bottom of the honeymoon registry, read the important notes about how Annie our Agent is taking gift registry orders.

Asterisks indicate how much we'd like to do that activity; more asterisks mean stronger preferences. But let your tastes be your guide. We'll enjoy any of the following. We'll look forward to reporting on the experience.

As we learn about items that have been purchased, we'll update this page.

Honeymoon Gift Registry

	Price/ person	Number requested	Number Remaining
* Gift certificate	Any amount	Any number	N.A.
Sunset catamaran cruise on Moorea	$96	2	0
* Safari excursion by 4x4	$90	2	0
Polynesian dinner and show at Tiki Village	$105	2	2
** Shark feeding and swim with the dolphins	$95	2	0
* Le Bateau restaurant dinner and dancing to live music	$105	2	2
Private candlelight, champagne dinner on the beach	$185	2	2
* Full-day tour of Bora Bora, including picnic lunch on the beach and swim with sting rays	$195	2	2
Dinner at Bloody Mary’s	$ 125	2	2
** Private sailboat cruise to a secluded Motu including lunch and snorkeling	$132	2	2
Sunset champagne cruise followed by dinner and show at a popular native restaurant.	$195	2	2
Polynesian Spa at Bora Bora Lagoon 25 min. couples massage, or 50 min. couples massage	$90 $175	2 2	2 2
25 min. helicopter ride	$95	2	2
Surfing lesson on Moorea	$105	1	1
Jet ski rental	$130	1 or 2	1
**Parasailing	$125	2	2

Honeymoon Registry Recommendations

Use the form above: We can send you a copy by email, or you can print this page and mark it with the gift you've chosen for us.

Send by fax or email to Annie to earmark the gift. Now, I know not many people use fax any more, but if you're one, fax to Annie DellaPenna at 617-426-0617. Or, email to annie at tourainetravel.com.

Pay by check. Because credit card charges carry a 4 percent transaction fee that reduces the amount of the gift, we recommend you pay by check. There's plenty of lead time and Annie the Agent is happy to earmark a gift as yours and wait for the check to arrive.

Make check payable to: Touraine Travel
Mark memo field: Roberts/Danielson honeymoon

Mail to:
Ms. Annie DellaPenna
Touraine Travel
41 Winter Street
Boston MA 02108

And if you want advice or help, call Annie at 617-426-4418 or toll free 800-967-5583.

Williams Sonoma Registry

Click the title above to go to the registry web site. We found a few items here. Where else did you think we'd find them?

Crate and Barrel

Yes, here. That's where else you'd expect us to have found what we're looking for.

CB2

CB2, which recently opened a New York City store, is Crate's little, cooler, sometimes less expensive little sister. And we're registered there, too.

Bed, Bath, and Beyond Registry

Also, registered here. It's the law.

At Smith + Noble, we would really like two shades for the bedroom. Boy, have we been giving the neighbors a show! I searched the site to find out how to give gift certificates, on one hand, or alternatively, to start a registry. No such luck. You might call the place and see if they have other, better information.

Target Club Wedd

We even found some great things here.

Yes, we even added a registry at Target because our microwave started "arcing," which looks like a lightening storm taking place over our leftovers. There's just the one item: microwave. Nice to have, not need to have.

Planned Parenthood

Two nights ago, I suggested to TWIL that we ask people to give to this organization, too. She was thrilled: "I've been thinking exactly the same thing." We feel the Supreme Court's decision about so-called partial birth abortion has a number of serious flaws embedded in it.

Here's what we're suggesting, and we do mean suggesting. Follow your conscience. Give $10 to Planned Parenthood along with your wedding gift and say you gave it in our names. If everyone does so, we'll raise about $1,000. So that we have some "skin in the game," we'll match every donation at 25 percent. Your $100 is really $125. because we'll kick in the rest. Here's why.

First, there is the matter of protecting citizens. The ruling provides no clause that allows the use of the procedure when the mother's life is in danger. This means the Court ruled that in the rare cases when birth means harm or death to a mother, doctors must work to save the fetus. To my eyes, that is to prefer one American and his or her rights over another. Those are not equal rights.

Second, the court cited medical and scientific uncertainty about the need for the procedure, and asserted that state and federal legislatures "have wide discretion in to pass legislation" in such circumstances, in the words of opinion author Anthony Kennedy. Uncertainty of fact, it appears, frees legislatures to make laws on other grounds. Not facts. But it seems to me that the rule of law must be based on objective facts. Without them, on what will we be governed?

The effect of the ruling is to open a door to state legislation that seeks other ways to limit a woman's right to choose on grounds other than science. For my nieces especially, but for all women, I worry when the highest court starts taking rights away, and gives legislatures the right to take up the effort where the justices left off.

A little help!

2007-04-12T11:10:00.000-04:00

How cool is the Internet? As cool as you make it.

If you click on the link Wedding Geography, right, you'll see a Google map with locations of the wedding, reception, rehearsal dinner, and Sunday brunch.

You'll also see hotel locations, including the Hampton Inn, where we blocked discounted rooms (because we couldn't block rooms in any other hotel. I mean really. We'd have done better if we could have.).

If you click here, you'll see the cause of the run on hotel rooms. But at the bottom of the page, you'll see the hotels in which the DCA is housing the band geeks, which should tell you where not to stay unless drum line is the different drummer to which you march.

One way to use the map, if you're Priceline savvy, is to make sure that you're bidding on hotels on the wedding side of town. In general though, when you're West of Albany, you're in the greater Midwest and distance means nothing there. Expect to drive a bit.

Also, a friend had hopes of using hotel program or American Express points at one of the hotels.

If your experience yields good advice for others, please leave a comment below. Click on the Comment link at the bottom of this post and follow the simple instructions (Type your comment, identify yourself, click Publish, and then type the verification letter/number string. Sounds complex, but it's easy.)

Yes, that's TWIL, working her creativity to the bone vis a vis invitations.

Parade of (rejected) wedding dresses 1.7

2007-04-10T14:40:00.000-04:00

Lodging Ideas - Act Now!

2007-04-08T08:28:00.000-04:00

*** Folks, what follows was corrected today, Monday April 9 ***

You thought Rochester was a sleepy, upstate NY, former film photography industry center. Ha! A sprawling drum corps competition will blare into town on the same weekend as the wedding. So will some hockey league gathering, which makes me concerned that the weather will be very cold indeed.

Book your hotel rooms as soon as possible. I’m sure everything will work out. Just. Fine. It’ll be. Fine. Aieeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hampton Inn & Suites Rochester/Victor: Convenient and comparable to the Holiday Inn (though not as new). 7637 New York State Route 96, Victor, NY 14564. 585-924-4400

We have set aside a block of rooms here at a discounted rate of $132/night. This is a pleasant, up-to-date hotel. If you have difficulties when calling the front desk, ask for Dan Calabrese, the sales coordinator.

Brookwood Inn. 800 Pittsford-Victor Road, Pittsford, NY 14534. 585-248-9000. Convenient location. Clean, comfortable, spacious rooms. Hotel bar. Room availability limited.

The following list of hotels is also convenient to the wedding location, marked on this map by a green arrow. However, we were not able to block discounted rooms.

Woodcliff Lodge: A very good, conveniently-located hotel where L and I stayed one Christmas. Room rates can be higher than the Brookwood and will be higher than the discount rate above. If you are able to make your plans soon, consider calling to see whether any rooms remain. 199 Woodcliff Drive, Fairport, NY 14450. 585-381-4000

Holiday Inn Express: Relatively new, and in my past experience, comfortable; amenities, yes; services, few. According to the hotel they have some rooms available. 2835 Monroe Ave, Rochester, NY. 585-672-2100. Standard rate: $135/niught

Hampton Inn & Suites Rochester/Victor: Convenient and comparable to the Holiday Inn (though not as new). Room availability unknown. 7637 New York State Route 96, Victor, NY 14564. 585-924-4400

Fairfield Inn: We haven’t visited the property, but these are usually clean, simple, and comfortable hotels on a par with Hampton and Holiday Inn Express. 915 Hard Road, Webster, NY 14580. 585-671-1500

Microtel You’ll see the word “motel” hidden in the name of this place. Coincidence? I don’t think so. But it is in fact a small, economical hotel. I haven’t visited this property but a few rooms were available when I called last week. 7498 Main St, Victor, 14564. 585-924-9240. Standard rate: $60/night

The Del Monte Lodge, A Renaissance® Hotel & Spa is where you’ll stay if luxury is a necessity. 41 North Main Street, Pittsford, New York 14534. 585-381-9900

Bed and Breakfasts: Because you’re a B&B person or you’re not. We're not. The following are leads, not recommendations.

Closer to the wedding
1820 Springdale Farm B&B. 242 County Road 9. Victor, NY 14564. 585.924.5952

Liberty House B&B. 131 West Main St, Palmyra NY 14522. 315.597.0011

A little farther from the wedding
Edward Harris House: A pretty B&B in the arts district in Rochester, a neighborhood thatL and I often end up when visiting Rochester. 5 Argyle Street, Rochester, NY 14607. 585-473-9752 or 800-419-1213

The Dartmouth House. 215 Dartmouth Street, Rochester, NY 14607. 585.271.7872 or 800.724.6298

We're having a non-non-traditional wedding

2007-04-06T08:28:00.000-04:00

There's the story of the couple who's nostalgia ran to the seashore and fast moving water. Their ceremony involved pouring water into a basin, mingling streams in a new elemental combination. Excuse me while I go to the bathroom. While I'm gone, reflect on this: TWIL and I are not doing that non-traditional thing.

There's the unity candle, which even the Roman Catholics use. Its obvious phallic imagery mocks notions of sexual equality as the husband and wife touch the upright taper and "light it up." Not doing that.

Or consider the couple who deputized their dog to select, during the ceremony, their family name. I've looked everywhere but can't find the source. Family symbols were placed on a table. Those the retriever chose first, that family name would become theirs. Did I mention that the Roberts line is closely associated with T-bone steak? But wait, Timmy's fallen down a well!

We are not unique. And neither are you. The rare individual is genuinely creative. We're clever, maybe. We may have good taste. What we want is to "have fun with it," whatever that tyrannical standard means. "Non-traditional" comes down to the cherished idea of not being bound by tradition when you make your choices. Its an echo of American individuality. But where our intellectual ancestors invented a new politics, most of us just want to substitute Martin Buber for a Bible reading (Aren't they both Jewish?). When we get non-traditional, we look to convention and make choices within it. Submit for your approval: Wedding gowns!

But if we were going to be non-traditional - really non-traditional - we would not get married. We would not send invitations. We would not spend - oh, don't get me started. When I looked up a few weeks ago and realized that we're having a very, very conventional wedding, I was disappointed. She will wear a gown. Her father will walk her down an aisle. No churches will solemnize our union, but the ceremony will look similar to a dozen weddings you've attended.

But all the unseen forces of marriage flow toward the conventional. Law flows that way. Any man my age who claims he's marrying for love and who did not also consider property transfer, tax liability, acute health care conditions and who'll decide to pull his plug is very poor or lying. The free market flows this way. The less you spend, the more conventional your options are. "Having fun with it" is expensive.

Expectations flow this way, too. One of the devilments and delights of a wedding is that it's a touchstone for all weddings. Your guests don't want startling, fascinating meals. They don't want a ceremony they participate in. And the fire eater? Consider the symbolism before you place your deposit. The people who love you, the ones who are going to support you as a married couple, they don't want innovation. They want want to have the kind of good time they've had at other weddings. And they will compare yours to theirs.

Our wedding? It's shaping up as a very traditional wedding, circa 1970s. We've made our choices, but we're stepping into the conventions that all married people inhabit. For many years the institution - marriage - towered with a heavy load of requirements. But with TWIL, neither convention, nor expectations, nor others' assumptions laid so heavily on the "ever-after, until death." Thousands of years of marrying tradition has come to feel as light as a tee shirt.

Dear Dick, a new feature

2007-04-05T19:26:00.001-04:00

Two friends are getting married not long after TWIL and I. The groom-to-be and I don't get to talk often. He lives on the other side of the Charles River, and as Bostonians know, you're on one side or the other. It could be trolls or fear of Rte. 128, but traveling Over There doesn't happen often.

Dick - not his real name - has not asked me for advice. His loss. Or is it? In a periodic feature of ...Bliss, I'll tell Dick what he can expect. Not the concrete and incredible - yes, you pay for creamers and sugar bowls separately when you hire a caterer - but the shifting hopes and anxieties of the groom-to-be. Dick may not need my advice. But if he were me, he would.

Dear Dick,

The same way biology played an important role in noticing and choosing Kelly - not her real name - it will surprise you for the balance of your engagement.

An example. "Fuck you" becomes a term of endearment. Something deep inside you has begun to recognize that all the measurement scales have been reset. You'll be together forever. A long time. You no longer feel it's important to exercise caution in romantic communication. Go ahead and say it. "Tomorrow" has become a kind of renewable resource. Sure, you'll run out eventually. But it seems so far away that you can leave that problem to your grandchildren. It is a testimony to the "intelligence" of evolution that biology intervenes here. Because "Fuck You" in line at the game will lead to a ride in an ambulance. But at home, with the woman you love, that line has in fact become a term of endearment. There are two common adaptive responses.

One. "Fuck you too," she says, with a smile. The smile that means, "I know you're not mad. And why worry? There's always tomorrow."

Two. The wink. The sly exit from the room. These are signals that mean she's taken you literally. And you remember just one of the reasons you loved this woman in the first place.

From that point on, you don't need my advice. Trust the biology.

As you were,
John

Keeping up with the Smones'

2007-03-24T12:01:00.001-04:00

Everyone is meshing names, says British press, and it's just a matter of time before it reaches the likes of, well, us.

In fact, if you click on the headline, you'll see that Slate has done its research and debunked the trend story as a very selective phenomenon. But I think our names have potential for meshing.

Meshing is
Smith + Jones = Smones, or Jith

Roberts + Danielson =

Robertson
Robson
Roson
And theoritically, Ron
Ronielson
Ranielson
Raniel
Ran

Danielbertson
Danielberts
Danielrob
Danielbob
Danobert
Danbertson
Danbert
Dobert
Dobson
Dosert
Dants
Dert

The polls are open! Nominate your candidates and L and I will do a runoff. If a thousand presidential hopefuls can run, so can a thousand meshed names or "meshames."

Parade of (rejected) dresses 1.6

2007-03-20T09:37:00.000-04:00

"The look. Of love. Is in your eyes..."

The Ring of Engagement 2

2007-03-17T08:21:00.000-04:00

Dave, my father, didn't buy that ring.

It belonged to Mildred, his mother. His father Ted gave it to her. His aunt (name?) gave it to him, though no one knows how she came to own it. If Ted's aunt was about 30 when she first wore the ring, it may be 100 years old. And for the third time the woman who wore it gave it to a man in the next generation to say "I love you."

My mother always said that when I wanted to get married that I could give the ring. In the last decade or so, she became convinced that she'd go to the grave with it. Laurelyn and I had been together long and happily without marriage. It was the secret to our success, I always said.

When I visited my parents on mother's day weekend and asked my mother for the ring, she handed it over saying only that she wasn't sure she wanted to give it up. I thought I was announcing My Intention to Marry. No one heard it.

A few months later, when Laurelyn and I called to say we were engaged, my parents were shocked. Shocked and amazed, I tell you. I'd convinced them that had no future for me. But I surprised them as much as I'd surprised Laurelyn.

The Ring of Engagement 1

2007-03-15T16:00:00.000-04:00

When my father met my mother, she was still in high school. He'd graduated a year before and was working that summer with a roofer in nearby Marietta, NY. The weekend came. The Firemen's Field Days were on. In central New York, that still means barbecue chicken and beer. And girls.

Jean Marie Schenkenberger is the oldest daughter of Carl Martin and Edwina Bantle, who had a camp on Otisco Lake not far from Marietta. But "camp" means a rambling two-story with terrific southwest views. Because if you were the first generation of successful Americans in aGerman family, you didn't mind showing that you were making it. The momentum of your father's business - my great grandfather - and your own restless hard work gave you some spending money.

Schenkenberger's Meat Market at 300 Park Street was doing well in a Fritz and Ed's neighborhood. That's how their friends knew them. If you called across the room, he'd answer to "Fritz," because he was German. Politically incorrect as hell, he'd hold up his can of beer and make his way to you smiling. Ed would spout some foul-mouthed adjective and give you a sloppy kiss. Jean looks shy and excitable in the few photos that capture her as a teenager. She's my mother.

David John Roberts is the oldest son of Edward (Ted) and Mildred Gurney, she a housewife who was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at 30 and he a largely self-taught electrical engineer who ended his career designing diagnostic equipment for Upsate Medical Center. Mildred was told that MS would take her in a few years. She lived at least 45 more. The myth of my father's youth is that he and his buddies worked hard at having a good time but not at school. That's my mother's version. But his parents weren't story tellers either. He was turning out fine, and "Please, kids, the baseball game is on," Mildred would say.

My father and mother don't talk about falling in love. They met, they liked each other, they went on liking each other. He gave her a ring, which turned into a promise to marry someday. Sure they love each other. It's just not how they tell the story.

A couple of facts: the yellow stone is topaz, the band is pink gold.

To be continued...

STD - No not that STD

2007-03-15T06:40:00.001-04:00

Why Marriage is Important

2007-03-11T11:42:00.000-04:00

In The Departed, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) meets his FBI superior Ellersby (Alec Baldwin) on a driving range. Colin learn he's assigned to investigate the state police officers investigating Frank Costello (Jack Nicholson), the local unindictable crime boss.

Ellersby asks how Colin's wedding preparation is going, which prompts this unbidden advice. Add the sound of Kennedy-meets-Southie accent.

Ellersby
Marriage is an important part of getting ahead. Lets people know you're not a homo. Married guy seems more stable. They see the ring, they think at least someone can stand the son of a bitch. Ladies see the ring, they immediately think you must have some cash and your cock must work.

Colin
Oh, it's workin'! Overtime.

Cupcakes, out

2007-03-05T06:16:00.000-05:00

We had an idea that cupcakes would be beautiful and less – I don’t know – obvious (infer “costly”) than a wedding cake.

Digressing slightly, what is that cake cutting all about anyway? The couple double-hands a dull knife and chops the metaphor of their future into hastily eaten, crumbling bits?

Cupcakes cost the same as a cake, whatever they might stand for. But the white expanse of frosting is a palette for the cake maker’s art. So the decision was easy. More frosting and three flavors of filling? Hazelnut cream, chocolate fudge, raspberry, each in different parts of the cake. You’re welcome.

Our Theme is Hope

2007-03-04T08:30:00.000-05:00

This is the wedding site last weekend. Rochester winter.

We saw ten-inch accumulation and except for the mild Christmas shopping season that locals had been granted, they looked at it like nothing more unusual than the daily newspaper delivery. And honestly, we were too busy to wish for anything besides a darker pair of sunglasses.

“Go ahead,” said my thirty-year friend Dave – two years married and an exhausted father of twins. When I gave him this Rochester report, “Cake, done. Florists, found and in competitive bid. Photographer, closing in. Caterer, heated proposals coming our way. And we met so many great people, really,” Dave’s all, “Go ahead and seize on that.” You see how he foreshadows an ominous future? This is the guy who’s caterer went bankrupt about six weeks before his wedding. Please! If you see him at the reception, Don’t Ask!

He’s right. Every consultant, artist, dreamer knows that the best part of a project is the beginning – big ideas, hypotheses, hopes, and ambition dominate. Seared tuna in soba noodle cups? An eight-hour movie of seven generations of a family of wood sprites? Tea smoked salmon on filaments of rice cracker? Easy, stand back, give me a couple days! But we await catering proposals hopefully. Hope is our theme. You don’t marry without vast reserves of hope.

Valentine's Day "Poem"

2007-02-14T08:29:00.000-05:00

I hate the cloying conspiracy of Valentine's Day, nearly as much as I hate most institutions and large organizations. Humbug. But I love TWIL.

Rejected Inscriptions for a Wedding Ring

I’ll lasso the moon for you.

For as long as we both can bear it.
So much better than nothing.
I had my fingers crossed. Psyche!

Is it the moon you want?

My deepest gratitude
for lowering your expectations.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Oh, oh! Oh! Oooh! You’re the best!

On bad days, think “death is coming.”
Don’t cry. I’m sorry.

Love, panic, resignation. Repeat.
This ring does not make you look fat.
What was I saying?

The moon is taken. Have my heart.

Rah-cha-cha! (Read "Rochester")

2007-02-07T06:27:00.000-05:00

For those of you in the back of the room, a little review.

We wanted...

A place where we could settle for a few days and invite friends,
An outdoor location for the wedding,
A grassy place big enough for the reception tent,
Enough privacy to prevent the police from interrupting "Twist and Shout."
A place that we could make beautiful with our own hands and help from People Who Love Us (PWLU)

Months ago, I observed, "Your dad's place has lawn enough. Too bad it's in Rochester." When we joked about the idea to Lee (TWIL's Dad) and Fran, they said they'd be glad to have the wedding. Which is just like them. But it was just conversation and we let it drop.

When the Rochester wedding notion came up in passing since July, it was a way of saying how frustrated TWIL and I were about finding a wedding house near the water. Remember, we have been searching since July 2006.

After Gatsby- and Martha-like illusions were stripped from our imaginations, Rochester and Lee's back yard offered the fewest complications. And if other locations presented obstacles we'd already sussed out, how hard would reality have bit me in the pale, pale ass?

Then again, Rochester? Hotels? Lower prices. Summer rentals? Close by. Family friendly? Very. Airport? Check. Driving distance? For most folks, principally our families. Familiar? Very, without being so familiar that it's bred contempt. And our friends, who do not live in Rochester, are better able to get up and go there, we think.

Remember Elise, the lady who wanted us to rent her house, but didn't want us to actually have a wedding too near by? Well, by contrast, Lee and Fran said first that they're willing, then that they're honored. Obviously, we asked them at the right moment - before they realized what they're getting into.

"Rochester - because it's easier" is our new motto and mantra. And that crack about "too bad it's in Rochester?" That lip-smacking sound is me eating my words.

The new date:

Saturday, September 1, 2007.

Watch for links from this date forward about what Rah-cha-cha as to offer that no other city built on the technology of the last century can hold a candle - er, LED - to. Here's what I mean.
Until the end of April this year, a luxury excursion:

A one-hour escorted driving tour of Rochester. Admission and tour of the George Eastman House for two people. Lunch for two at La-Tea-Da Tea House, including any lunch menu entree, drink, scone for dessert, tax and gratuity. Package price $98.00 per couple. Driving tour in purchaser's vehicle or through pre-arranged transportation with Carpe Diem Travel.

This offer not available in any of your big-city dee-lux Boston stores! No sir.

Whither, Bliss?

2007-02-05T13:02:00.000-05:00

As if Christmas were not enough to knock us into January, where light and heat are scarce, we've been killing off our darlings. Well, that's what it's called writing. The clever phrase, the startling logical leap. They've got to go.

Seaside house? Gone. Pocasset was our second choice. But the good folks there gave us a belated maximum guest count of eighty five. One of you would not have been able to come. So, we looked North to Maine, and here in Boston again.

I struggled to find a story to tell you about why that beautiful warehouse space in Boston was worth considering, until we learned that the package starts - yes, starts - at $22,000. (Three zeros, not a typo.) And where's the drama in the icy, snowy visit to a Maine house that TWIL loved. The nice lady kept saying it's possible while also saying no. She was encouraging, and it was impossible. We could have the wedding, but next door. It wasn't a story. It was just spooky.

And then to the place that I loved, still farther North in Camden ME, where there was no punchline either. We went so far North that I feared it was Bhutan to our guests and the way there a death march to our joyous day. Hell, it's a five hour trip from Boston, allowing for traffic! The rambling place would still be perfect for friends, who it turns out could not come for the pre-wedding idyll we envisioned. And so we let the vision fade.

That's what we've been doing. Killing our darlings: Plan A, the destination house on the shore. Plan B: the modern, elegant location here in the city where we live (nearly). I won't go into the ideas that never reached "plan" status.

We would not have killed these dears and darlings if we hadn't had an ace in our hand. We'd have been over a wallet-extracting barrel, as many people end up. Our ace - I call it the knife in our sock, that is, the way you ward off the wedding thugs in the alley - turns out to beat the house.

Tomorrow: The NEW DATE and Playing the Ace.

The meaning of Christmas is ...

2006-12-28T10:08:00.000-05:00

Advent was once the countdown clock to Christmas. The meaning of Christmas, for this formerly religious kid, was mystery crystallized in liturgy compounded by anticipation: Christmas eve eucharist and lots of kick-ass gifts.

This year TWIL and I shopped and packed and shipped and ducked out in time to get to family early. We left Massachusetts - our friends and their new babies, our childless friends and their peaceful living rooms. We cut out on the other parents who, because they love us, they didn't say "disappointed" about our absences. We left our own home, the place where I do my work and TWIL recovers from hers. The one true home today.... It was a big fat sacrifice, okay?! Ho, ho, ho.

But, of course, there were gifts. This year, TWIL's mom and stepdad gave us a night in a lodge at the South rim of the Grand Canyon. We hiked two miles down a trail the first afternoon and were back in time for a cloudy sunset and a terrific meal at El Tovar, the singular inn on the rim. The next morning we hiked miles down the South Kaibab trail in the snow. The beauty and the altitude took our breaths away. Had that morning been the end of Christmas, I'd have had mystery and kick ass gifts. Satisfied. But it seemed it would not end.

We returned for cooking and baking. While the oven worked, we dug a foxhole on the living room and established an entertainment beachhead for the great movies of the holiday, including some first-time viewings of the lesser greats: The Bishop's Wife, Tenth Avenue Angel, Little Women (with June Allyson and Elizabeth Taylor), Meet Me in St. Louis (no, not the first viewing of this florid holiday wallpaper).

On St. Stephen's Day, we road tripped to Scottsdale to visit Taliesin West. TWIL and I have an ongoing fascination with Frank Lloyd Wright, your father's modernist. When we get the chance, we visit his standing works. His Arizona architecture lab shares the dignity and calm of other works, but this is still a school.

The buildings are less formal and more purposeful. It helps to know FLW's father was a preacher and musician; the architect was a missionary and a zealot. Taliesin E/W were his monasteries and ashrams (without the complication of vows of celibacy). In the desert, he found inspiration. His buildings look like landscape, and the steady flow of school fees and stone-hauling students must have steadied him. When he died, we were told, he had 168 projects in process.

Christmas no longer stands for mystery and tradition. This year, its meaning lay in our reunion with family and the delight in new experience - the desert is also lovely, dark, and deep. What is the meaning of Christmas? To find light in darkness. It's in there somewhere. You look while I play with my kick-ass gifts.

What is a word that rhymes with "stuck" and means real estate agent?

2006-12-12T06:37:00.000-05:00

For rehearsal dinner - cue the Sweeney Todd music - we're roasting real estate agent on a spit over a crackling fire of burning lawyers. Be careful of the flaring flames! That's brimstone.

On Sunday, while so many of our good friends were chatting and drinking and eating at our holiday open house, the Real Estate Agent called (REA). We were cuddling other's babies and pouring more chardonnay. This is the guy who showed us Seaside because it was place where the owner allowed people to hold events. Who assured us repeatedly that the size of our wedding wasn't too large.

When I discovered the message on Monday, this is what I heard.

"Uh, yeah, John. Matt Ball here [REA. Probably not his real name. Because why flame the guy, right? Oh, who am I kidding? That's his name, the no-good rhymes-with-stuck]. I just talked to the owner of the Seaside place and he's -- I dunno, I guess he's been talking to people. About liability and stuff like that. I dunno. I tried to tell him it'd be okay and umm. I dunno. He's just not, you know.... I'm gunna check out another place that probably won't work, so give me a call."

No apology, regrets, leads, or other ideas. But then on Monday.

J: "Matt, this is not good. We've spent a couple months planning, sending tent companies to measure. There's no way?"

M: "Uhh, no. No." [Sssssss. That's the sound of cell phone signals hissing through towers and bouncing off Cape Cod lighthouses.]

J: "I'm really disappointed. What can we do?"

M: "Uhhh. [Sssssss.]

J: "Okay, I'm speechless now. I mean, that's it? What about other places?"

M: "Oh, oh. there's another five-bedroom, but the side yard is all trees. I'll check it out for you."

J: "Matt, you told us this place was open to weddings. You've been talking to the owner for nearly two months. What happened? I mean I'm speechless. What the heck?"

M: "[Sssssss.]"

The silence grows and expands and takes in all of desultory work he has done for us, the calls returned late or not at all, the glib reassurances, the thinly veiled efforts to help us help him get a commission, the feeling that if we're fish in a barrel you could at least have the courtesy to shoot us because we're dying of suffocation now.

All I wanted was a shallow acknowledgment that we'd invested our wedding hopes in the place. That I would be feeling pretty pissed about the snatch and grab of 63 Seaside. A little false boot-licking, maybe, which I thought was part of the REA licensing exam. A nod to human feeling of any kind would have been welcome.

M: "[Sssssss.]"

J: "Matt? Hello, Matt?"

M: "Uhh. I'm gunna check that other place, so...."

J: "Okay, good. That's great. You keep on it. Thanks. Thanks."

But all's well that ends well. Next year, TWIL and I will be married and Matt Ball will still be a real estate agent.

Did I mention how much I like the house in Pocasset? How beautiful the lawn? How rare the natural chapel of spruce in front? Oh, I will. I will.

We have a Date!

2006-11-20T10:43:00.000-05:00

September 8, 2007. That's Saturday on the weekend following Labor Day, next year.

September 8, 1975 Boston begins court ordered busing of public schools.
September 8, 1966 "That Girl" starring Marlo Thomas premieres on ABC-TV.
September 8, 1957 Pope Pius XII encyclical On motion pictures, radio, TV.
September 8, 1952 Ernest Hemmingway's "Old Man and Sea" published.
September 8, 1939 Franklin D. Roosevelt declares "limited national emergency" due to war in Europe.
September 8, 1915 Assn of Negro Life and History founded.
September 8, 1907 Pius X publishes encyclical Pasceni dominici gregis (anti-modernism).
September 8, 1858 Lincoln makes a speech about when you can fool people.
September 8, 1565 1st permanent settlement in U.S. forms (St. Augustine, Florida).

Seaside. Ahhh.

2006-11-18T07:58:00.000-05:00

Remember that the Dennis location is on Seaside Avenue?

A word whose sussurations sound like ease. Parking is plentiful and we can use the beach.

The town of Dennis seems comfortable with permits, and we’re comfortable, too (no fees, no police detail required). We’ll go look again tomorrow, check square footage, align feng shui, cast out demons, and appease the local gods of commerce. More to come.

Parade of Dresses 1.5

2006-11-14T05:18:00.001-05:00

Side and front views.

Parade of Dresses 1.4

2006-11-13T18:35:00.000-05:00

I like the way this looks, but she has much better taste than me.

Nothing to report

2006-11-06T11:09:00.000-05:00

On the dream house front.... Our spreadsheet of offsetting costs and savings grows more complicated, but not all the inputs have floated out of the offices of town selectmen. More to come.

From the Material for Wedding Toasts Department

"I love her because she appeals to my vanity and does not abuse the power it confers...."

Parade of Dresses 1.3

2006-11-03T06:51:00.000-05:00

There's a Place for Us 1.2 (Hope meets 'Real' Estate)

2006-11-01T09:36:00.000-05:00

TWIL and I drove to Cape Cod during the churning rain last Saturday to look at three wedding houses. On the web, they had the right combination of kitchen, bedrooms, and lawn. That's that thing again, that 'hope'. Get back in place, you, you, emotion, you! One owner was unexpectedly in Maine. We shrugged. Turned off among private lanes and drove through what must have been backyards to reach small saltbox claustrophibically close to the neighbors. Shrug and on we roll.

In Dennis, the Seaside house looked very comfortable inside. Old beech trees embrace the yard. They volunteered themselves at once as The Spot sentiment and the state would join us as one. But where to put the tent, in case - shine your fare faces upon us, ye gods - it rains a year from now as it did on Saturday? Our Tent Guy is talking the rental Agent Guy, who'll give him access. But it's on a street named Seaside and if Tent Guy says we can manage it, you're going to hear a lot more about this place. Stay tuned.

Then after a lunch at Persey's we slo-mo-ed across 28 and 151 to Pocasset, where the Major Leonard Wood house wide porch draws you in from the vast golf-course of lawn. No need to call Tent Guy. We loved the agent, Don, who in fact, owns the place with family. Or still owns it, as he and five siblings grew up there. His mother still lives in an attached bungalow in back. We're sure to meet her one night when Frou Frou is too loud. The house was built in the early 1800s, it's beautiful, if a little cool, formal, and wide open. But the bluegrass just won't quit.

Of course, what we want is the interior of Seaside and the outside of Pocasset. That's the "real" part of real estate. And, if you're in a philosophical mood, a reminder what life together is about: good, not perfect.

Parade of Dresses 1.2

2006-10-23T15:37:00.000-04:00

Advice on marriage 1.0

2006-10-20T09:31:00.000-04:00

"You can call it the seven-year itch or whatever you want." Let's call it "whatever."

This is how a colleague of mine began when I told her I was engaged. She wanted to hear the proposal story, the dress story, the planning so far. Delighted. Thrilled. Then she offered this important advice.

"They say it happens about every seven years, but whatever. You just look up and think, 'What did I do? Who the hell is this guy?' Did I say I learned this in pre-Cana (which for you non-Roman Catholics is the pre-marital course on marriage, both earthy and sacramental)? And it's true! Ugh! I had been with (let's call him) Chris just about seven years and we were living in [A City] and things were good, but I looked up and thought, ugh. Whatever."

"Exactly," says I.

"But we talked about that. We also just waited it out. You know?" TWIL and I have been together eight years, so I nodded, not really sure I knew. "And it's better on the other side. You're better friends. You learn that when the delight goes out of marriage that it's not a failure. I was so reassured to know that this is what happens. We could have predicted it. So that's my advice. When you get to that place where you think she's sort of disgusting. Whatever. That's what happens when you get married. Enjoy it. It'll be fine."

Parade of Dresses 1.1, also on Film

2006-10-10T17:40:00.000-04:00

Here's another picture of TWIL at this year's Running of the Brides.

In a neat, small-world coincidence, I just got word that Dawn Morrissey (Boston Irish Film Festival Producer) and a founding member of my screenwriting group, is bringing pieces of her short film-in-progress to the Tyra Banks show tomorrow (Weds. Oct. 11, at 3:00 p.m. in Boston on Fox/RCN cable). The heading is Extreme Fashion and Odd Plastic Surgery. The Running of the Brides, about the crazy bargain bridal gown sales at Filene's Basement stores, falls under the extreme fashion heading, I suppose. I don't think even Dawn compares the sale with BASE jumping or swimming with sharks. But she didn't title the segment, either.

You've checked out the prospective bride. Check out "Running..." tomorrow.

There's a place for us... 1.1 (Hope)

2006-10-10T07:27:00.000-04:00

Hope. That's what we've got. Though our efforts to persuade unwilling homeowners has been nil so far, we've have Appointments and Visits scheduled.

Here's what Laurelyn wrote to Kate, whose house we loved, when we thought that maybe, just maybe, she was willing to have our wedding at her family's Cape house.

Hi Kate,

We like your house so much that I wanted to write back right away too. Can I tell you a little about us and also ask you help us think of things we could do to make you feel comfortable enough to consider having the wedding at your property?

We'd want to do what it takes to raise your level of confidence that we'll take care of the place, take responsibility for everything that happens there, and make you whole if anything, god forbid, ends up in more pieces than when we walked in. We could provide references, work closely with the fussiest property manager you can find, and discuss putting down a deposit that would cover your risk.

John and I have been together for 8 years. We live together in Somerville MA, north of Boston in a house we own. I am the manger of visual merchandising for Swarovski North America. I have been meticulously arranging products for many specialty store chains such as Restoration Hardware, Crate and Barrel, and Lindt Chocolate. Yes, Lindt chocolate. But crystal is much easier on the waist line. I am a bit of a workaholic but John is very understanding and is often cooking dinner while I am on my 80-minute commute home from Rhode Island.

John is a consultant who creates customized training for companies like Pepsi, MetLife, and Blue Cross Blue Shield. He is also writing screenplays and with luck and a few years effort, I think he really has a shot at getting one of them produced. He's not old, but he is 48, never married, and anything but wild and crazy. And I'm 38, also never married. We're pretty careful; that's what that means. At least, that's the silver lining. Most of our friends are older, too.

We are extremely tidy folks (you should see our house) and I know that we cannot control all of our guests but many of our guests don't even drink alcohol, including the groom. John used to be a monk in an Episcopal monastery. He likes to say that he lost his religious vocation but found love.

We are not having children at the wedding. We don't want the whole gang in the house any more than you would. The wedding and reception would take place in the tent, good weather or bad. We're expected 85 - 90 people.

Also, we're telling the story of the countdown to our wedding in a weblog, which you can see online here [the link to State of Bliss was here]. Let us know if we talked you into a negotiation. We hope to hear from you.

Sincerely,
John and Laurelyn

Kate took time to call Laurelyn, discuss the house further, and politely say no. But she said, "I know you've been having trouble finding a place. I read your blog." So for my ego's sake I'll believe that she laughed and cried and reflected on the meaning of life and love. It's all in here.

I'm not superstitious, but for the time being, I'll just add that there are three houses where owners are willing to have the wedding and we're going to visit them on October 28. We have an appointment with hope.

Thank you, Bliss-makers at Ganapati Studios

2006-10-06T10:33:00.000-04:00

When I proposed to TWIL (for you latecoming readers, that is, The Woman I Love), I boxed the ring box inside a cake-sized box and put a card on top. I'll let her decide whether to tell you what I wrote to declare my love without tipping my hand.

The card I chose is now the header of our blog. Take a look at the image for a second because it's us all over: a winking appreciation for the past, which you see in the tourist postcard design; a juxtaposition of sentiments that falls short of sentimentality (but only inches short); secular and religious myth and romance mingled together; and a loud invocation of delight on a journey into unfamiliar territory.

When I gave the blog the same title as the card, I asked the good folks at Ganapati Studios if we could use the image. Phil and Sarah must know something about myth and romance, because they agreed to lend us a jpeg. We're thrilled at the way the image beautifies our site and sums up the countdown to our wedding. Thanks again, Phil and Sarah.

The rest of you can see their work by clicking on title to this entry or see all their cards and products by clicking on the Ganapati Studios link in the sidebar.

Ambitious plans to upgrade this site include making the image a link to Phil and Sarah's business site. But, baby steps.

Parade of Wedding Dresses 1.0

2006-10-05T08:35:00.000-04:00

My friend Dawn Morrissey has started a short documentary tentatively titled The Running of the Brides, which describes the frenzy and life-threatening risk of shopping for a gown at the Filene's Basement wedding dress sale. Yes, Dawn did find her gown there and made it to the altar without a hitch.

TWIL made it through the Running... too, arriving after initial madness and emerged without contusions or body blows. I'll leave it to her to tell whether it bruised hope and romance.

Here is the first of a number of maybe, kind-of, sort-of, but ultimately 'no' offerings.

Freedom's just another word ... 1.0

2006-09-30T08:29:00.000-04:00

"Things'll change. You wait. You'll be telling married jokes in a few years. Heh, heh, heh." I was on the road with a couple consultants this week, and that was the good-natured refrain.

Things have already changed. It's not easy to put my finger on them though.

After Laurelyn said yes, I noticed something solid and certain come over her. "...And there is no way we're going deep in debt with this wedding!" she said to friends over dinner, stabbing the air with a finger. Ah, sweeter words are rarely spoken, but the vigor of the statement surprised me. I recognized a new freedom to assert herself. She's not timid. Far from it. But she seemed so much more at ease that I couldn't help but notice.

I'm convinced that marriage gives us latitude. A bad day, or week, or longer matters less now. There's always tomorrow. While TWIL and I thought we'd be together forever, life without marriage made me careful, respectful. I felt that because we did not have to stay together, we consciously paid attention to the best we had to offer. We behaved as though we wanted to stay together. But now that we're engaged, we're freer.

With freedom comes responsibility. We don't have to ignore those annoying habits. We can point them out, pick at them, repeat them as a joke for friends and family over dinners. We can mock them when it's just us guys (or gals). Everybody Loves Raymond made a lot of people laugh with nothing more for material than "husbands and wives don't get along." Apparently, good marriages can work like Ray and Debra's. But jeez, it looks ugly. I don't imagine that loving your spouse means lying about how sweet, thin, and funny she is. But dang, if I trust her with my heart, shouldn't I hope and believe she won't jam her thumb in my left ventricle on purpose? I mean, if you use your freedom to exercise power over somebody, you've missed the point.

Marriage frees us to be ourselves. It unleashes our truest traits. Including, often, petty cruelty. Me? I'm free, sure, but I'm working it. I'm still consciously being respectful, because some of me is unworthy of her. TWIL thinks I'm better than the man she'd hoped for. I'm not boasting; I'm quoting. Talk about responsibility.

There's a place for us 1.0

2006-09-19T06:56:00.000-04:00

In the past two years TWIL and I have been to two weddings held in a manner I think of as Middle Eastern. The bride and groom rent a house, invite their friends and family, sing and dance and drink and just - you know - hang, and then marry on Saturday before turning the place over to a family from New York City. "Middle eastern" in length and leisure; day after day of good times. We became fast friends with a couple we met at Dave and Amy's wedding on Cape Cod. And we're determined to find a place.

But we've been looking since mid-July. First, and you know who you are, I want to see you outside. You red-wine spilling, furniture breaking, toilet-stopping, indoor cigar-butting, towel-bloodying, lawn-driving, fill-in-the-room vomiting renters' of summer houses who had your perfect nuptuials on the Cape or in southern Maine, I want a piece of you. We have emailed or phone a hundred houses whose owners told us that someone elses' wedding ruined it for us. There's the guy in a tux who got drunk, wandered down the beach and flopped down on the sofa for boozey rest. He was in the house next door. "Nobody lets people do that anymore," is the way homeowners end this screed. "It's too bad. It's a beautiful place for a wedding."

Of course, there are the liars. "We're booked during July and August. Best wishes to you! :)" But when we write back that June or September are possible, that we'll work with them on dates, they write back that they don't allow weddings. "It's complicated, we don't live nearby. We had a bad experience.... So few homeowners allow weddings anymore. A shame, too. It's beautiful."

One sweet semi-retired guy in Kennebunk Beach was willing to rent the place. He was openminded. And helpful. But 75 people was all he could see the property bear. Which meant also renting the country club for a day. You don't need to be Ben Bernanke to see how deficit spending would balloon to threaten future economic growth. For the record, I wouldn't rent my oceanfront property to a wedding. You don't have to be coy with us. But we think a 85-90 people might attend. So, we Google on.

I suppose we could have lied. "Really, it's a very small wedding...." And then just when you think it's all over but the dancing, someone's date say, you, find a set of lawn darts ("Jarts," where I come from), starts a game that leads to a pitched contest, but with too many Chardonnays or maybe it's a little stroke, the ten-inch yard missle goes through the ocean-facing window and stabs my aunt in the shoulder and she bleeds all over the powder blue sofa. When the EMTs show up to extract window glass from uncles and business associates, they say it looks like about 150 people milling around on the lawn. My aunt's fine - given enough physical therapy, she'll get full range of motion back - and you get over the shame - after all, it's an Unbelievable Story. But now you've ruined it for the last few couples who might have wed there. But we didn't lie. It's not us. And, you know, it's a beautiful place for a wedding.

The Wedding Registry Alternative

2006-09-13T19:09:00.000-04:00

Bring cash, or else.

Remembering 9/11

2006-09-11T22:13:00.000-04:00

I was lucky.
I was with my brother and sister on 9/11. I was living in DC and my sister was attending Georgetown. My brother was visiting. I was lucky not be alone but I felt alone without John there. I was worried about what might happen next, worried about his safety, my safety. It took a week or so before I was allowed on a plane out of Baltimore to Boston.

Today, 5 years later, and I am in NYC and I can't help but think about the day the smoke was hovering over the pentagon. I don't feel alone and I am not worried because I am looking forward to the future and the years we will have together.
I am lucky.

Yard sale and looking forward

2006-09-11T14:51:00.000-04:00

On Saturday, TWIL and I held a yard sale with the idea that we were clearing the cellar and raising money for the wedding. We slept poorly and got up early.

I got rid of a set of mixing bowls - the first this avid cook bought after he left the monastery (that's another story). I offered up a set of silverware that I bought when I moved into this house alone. And she gave up her blender and a collection of good framed prints. It's the stuff of two households. "Well, when you leave me...," I joked, "you're going to need those," all the while comforting myself that the bowls were still there. There were times when I salivated to live alone again. But in fact I feared that she'd find me out. She'd be right to leave. I'm not as good as she thinks I am. That's never changed.

What I can tell you is that we parted with most of the stuff as a burden being lifted. People were happy to hear they were supporting our wedding. As one shopper said, "Well this is a nice change. Usually I'm picking through the wedding gifts because..., well, you don't want to hear that!" The furniture that we couldn't sell by 1 p.m., we labeled "Free." Edi and Candace, the kind of friends you'd wish for but wouldn't find, helped us carry two carloads of orphaned objects to the Salvation Army. When we four finished lunch, the furniture was gone.

Five years ago, TWIL called me from Washington as I headed home from the shuttered office building where I worked in Boston's financial district. She could see the smoke rising from the Pentagon. The cell phone networks were overwhelmed for hours before I could talk with her again. We were just glad to know the other was there and safe. So little seemed solid that day and every day that followed. Everything except her.

Risky Business

2006-08-31T12:09:00.000-04:00

Man proposes, shot dead
by tony lee / metro boston

AUG 31, 2006

SOMERVILLE — Authorities are investigating a Linden Street shooting that took the life of a Worcester man who, according to area residents, had been engaged for just one hour before being killed in front of his fiancé yesterday morning.
The neighbors said Bernard Johnson, 22, had just returned from visiting family in Alabama before proposing to his girlfriend, who then rushed the couple to her cousin’s apartment to spread the news.
Upon leaving the cousin’s apartment, Johnson was approached in a parking lot by Valentino Facey, 21, of Cambridge, according to the Middlesex district attorney’s office. Facey allegedly robbed Johnson of a gold chain at gunpoint and, after a brief scuffle, took off, only to return moments later with three other men.
One of the men shot Johnson several times before all four fled, the DA’s office said. The gunman remains at-large, but Facey was arraigned yesterday in Somerville District Court on charges of armed robbery and illegal possession of a firearm. He pleaded not guilty and is being held on $50,000 bail.

See I told you that getting engaged was risky.

Reactions

2006-08-30T21:44:00.000-04:00

Her mom: "Oh my gosh. Oh my. Gosh. Really? Really? Oh my gosh. Gosh. Oh my."

Her sister: "[Deafening scream]! Oh! My! God! Oh, oh, you need to enter the contest on The Today Show to win a dream wedding and honeymoon. To Anguilla!" Wha?

His sister: "Your shittin' me! Really? You're shittin' me. You must be shittin' me! Are you shittin' me? Come on! We'll I guess you got over the 'fear of institutionalization' you talked about when you toasted at my wedding, huh? Are you sure you're not shittin' me?"

Her dad: "That's awesome! I'm so happy." Her step mom: Squealing. With joy. "I think your dad is crying a little." Her dad: "John, you were supposed to ask me before you ask her, you know."

His mom: "Oh, John, really? Oh, migaad! Ohp. That's great. That's super. Ohhhh!

His brother in law: "You were my hero, man. What happened?"

The Proposal

2006-08-28T17:25:00.000-04:00

The Woman I Love (TWIL) had been traveling on business for five days (Switzerland) and planned a day off on the Friday after she returned. I love it when she goes away. I relish the run of the house. And I missed her. It's always like that.

We got up late on that Friday and sloped over to her favorite place to eat her favorite meal. Joseph's is a family restaurant, which is to say, families love it because it makes no demands on your wardrobe or ego. And the pancakes are great.

"What's that?" says TWIL, asking about the box I'm carrying in a shopping bag.

"You always bring me something when you travel," I say. "It's just a surprise I found for you while you were away."

And she buys it; she trusts me. That's one of the reasons we've gotten this far together. Last year I spent ten months working in Baton Rouge. I thought I'd be away four days a week for about four months. The absence was unwelcome; the interesting work wasn't. But the gig stretched, and as it did, the travel began to shred my nerves. We made twice-monthly visits. I couldn't bear the longing and leaving. She suffered silently for the most part. We talked every other day, at least, and traded email. But I'm not a stone, even though that's the view in some quarters because of my lifelong distaste for marriage. But a long steamy summer and two fast flights from hurricanes changed my chemistry fundamentally.

Joseph's is dark with paneling, but the curtains printed with coffee pots were bright that morning. TWIL opened the box and found a smaller box inside. Then she popped the question.

"You got me jewelry?"

Of course she was surprised. Two years ago, TWIL began working for an Austrian crystal company that sells, among other things, jewelry. She's a brand supporter, fashion fan, and bargain hunter, so rings and necklaces have flowed into our house as they once did into Grace Kelly's Monaco mansion. I gave up giving jewelry. She opened the little box to find an antique topaz set on pink gold that my father had given my mother before they were married. It's uncertain provenance stretches back two more generations in our family.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she says, and puts it onto her right ring finger. "Is it supposed to mean something?"

"Yes. It's on the wrong hand," I say. She looks at me. She traded the ring to her left hand. She looked at me. The coffee in my stomach splashed over painfully, my eyes bugged out, my didn't heart rate spiked. She didn't.... She doesn't...! Oh, my god! She doesn't get it.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you marry me!" Right here, emotion clouds memory. She said yes. For sure. She said she couldn't believe it. I must have, should have, said something like that, because I felt as good as I had hoped. For weeks, I'd been trying to decide when and how to ask. I could have waited six weeks until our self-declared August anniversary. But the thought of asking TWIL to marry me made me so happy that I didn't want to wait anymore. We both cried a little and kissed.

"Is it someone's birthday?" the waitress asked.

"He just asked me to marry him," TWIL said.

"Awwwww. Really? Congratulations!" she said, and looked for the ring.
"It's a family ring," TWIL said, to head off the "that's it?" eye.

"Awwww. Did you meet here?" she asked, pouring coffee.

"No, we just love the breakfast."

The waitress congratulated us again and went back to the kitchen. And then a cry of, "Awwwww, really! That's so sweet." from the kitchen.

me

2006-08-24T13:49:00.000-04:00