It’s hard (and easy) to believe that two years have passed since Andy and I got married, but here we are. And here’s a reminder of that special weekend:
Part 1: The Arrival & Accommodations
Part 3: The Last Call of a Bachelor
Part 4: The Dawn of the Wedding Day
Part 6: The Perfect Day in the Park
Bonus Post: The Residual Glow of Marriage
{Note: The Madonna Timeline is an ongoing feature, where I put the iPod on shuffle, and write a little anecdote on whatever was going on in my life when that Madonna song was released and/or came to prominence in my mind.}
“If you’re afraid of loneliness, don’t marry.” ~ Chekhov
The quiet plucking of a guitar begins this folk-like piece from Madonna’s over-maligned American Life album, and ‘X-Static Process’ is an ambivalent love song, under-laid with tones of melancholy and resignation, hints of despair and slivers of hope. It came at a time when she was supposedly-happily-married to Guy Ritchie, yet it stings of a disconcerting lack of fulfillment, and questions of self-identity. A whisper of a song, it is imbued with ambiguity, concerns of love and dependence, and the notion of self versus couple.
When I first heard it, I thought back to the beginning of every relationship I’ve ever been in ~ the first few days and weeks of hazy make-believe, when you pretend to be everything you think the other person wants, sacrificing a bit of yourself before making all the less-than-desirable parts apparent. It’s almost a trick of those fabled Victorian girls on the hunt for a husband, when all is the illusion of perfection, the notion of compliance ~ the perfumed entrapment of an insect-enticing flower before the wilting of disenchantment. And it’s always slightly deceptive, both to the suitors, and to oneself.
Back in the spring of 2003, Andy and I were one year into our current home. Settled, but still new, it was a spring of happiness and hope. Madonna sang this lullaby, harmonizing sweetly into the nights, as Andy slid into the bed beside me and we slumbered until the morning. That was back when he came to bed at a decent hour, back when we fell asleep together, back before his back fell apart again. It seems so long ago.
Nine years later – has it been that long? – I go to sleep alone. He says good-night, and then goes off into his own time. Partly due to back pain, partly due to I dont know what else. If I awaken at two or three in the morning, I will roll over, reach for him, and find cold empty blankets. At first, and for a long time, I couldn’t get to sleep for hours without him. It’s like the parent who’s waiting for their college-age kid, home for the summer, to come in for the night. It’s different when they’re away, but if they’re there, you wait. It’s a subconscious anxiety that’s both less and more, and for me it often doubled up on itself, knotting the nights into worry and fret, inducing restlessness and fucking up any idea of a normal schedule.
Some nights I would try to wait up for him. If I didn’t have work the next day, I’d stay up for a bit, watching television, hoping he’d tire sooner rather than later, but after too long of this it wore me down, and I would succumb to exhaustion or sickness. I’ll still do that on weekends, trying to join in the game like a lonely puppy, trying to keep up with the adults even when I can’t.
It is lonely sleeping alone. Even if he joins me later, I’m still the one who goes to sleep on my own every night. It would seem the anti-thesis of a marriage, of a relationship. It used to bother me more, and part of me wonders if it’s bad that itâ’s slowly starting not to. How far is it from not sleeping in the same room, or the same city? This is the conundrum of marriage – together always, forever apart.
I can make the most beautiful bedroom in the world – paint it in soothing colors, choose the linens and pillows for ample comfort, find the perfectly-tufted head-board, and put on the softest silk pajamas – but it is only for myself. I go to bed alone. Whether here or in Boston – always alone. And if I think about it, that’s the way it’s always been. Back and forth the mind wrestles, a push and pull of mental fatigue, and still the clock ticks ~ 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM… How long until madness?
And then I think back to when we first met, and the way I’d stop in late at night and find him sitting quietly on his couch, in the dim glow of a candle or two, meditating and grounding himself. In a way, maybe this is who he is – a night owl – and my “normal” hours are against his natural rhythm. Maybe he’s simply returning to who he was before he met me. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.
I wonder if other marriages have these doubts. I wonder if I’m a bad husband. I wonder if this is not a big deal at all. I wonder if I’m just the fool who talks about it. But that’s what this sort of song is for. It posits the question, it provokes the thought, it settles nothing. That’s what makes it good, that’s what makes it last. Like a marriage ~ bending, accommodating, giving ~ it yields, it goes back and forth, and it returns, if we’re lucky, to love, to ourselves, to the only people we know how to be. It is, at its best, an ecstatic process after all ~ one without an end or a definitive happily-ever-after, and all the more joyous because of it.
Song #67: ‘X-Static Process’ – Spring 2003
“In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.†~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
I’ve always considered myself a rather reluctant gay activist. My main contribution to the cause is living my life openly and unabashedly. Granted, it’s in a way that most people would not dare to do, but I still don’t consider it all that much of an effort. This is me, take it or leave it, and fuck you if you don’t like it. That has made for some strides, but only within my close circle of friends and family.
To take it to a larger level requires much more time and effort, and a commitment that I am far too admittedly selfish to make. It requires an altruism and selflessness that I cannot even fathom, yet there are those who make the sacrifice, and do so when they seemingly have no personal vested interest in the cause.
These are our straight allies – those people who recognize that to deny the rights and equality of one person is to deny and diminish the rights of all. That takes a great deal of generosity, an understanding of our social standing in the world that I have but begun to touch. It is, among a great many other things, the ultimate act of humanity.
It humbles me in ways too numerous to mention. It lifts my heart and spirit in a way that little else does. It gives me hope and faith in a humanity that too often seems to let us down. I myself cannot claim half as much resolve and determination in helping others. I do not have what it takes to be such a giver. Yet because of them I want to be a better person. I want to try harder, I want to make the world a better place, I want to believe that together we can make it happen.
COMING SOON: The Straight Allies ~ A Series of Profiles
Let’s face it: we are in the midst of a cultural war. As the political year gears up for another Presidential race, as gay marriage slowly becomes legal state-by-state (and occasionally then illegal – California), as ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ crumbles, the fight for gay equality has never been as vociferous, and hotly contested, as it seems to be today.
Thankfully, the tides appear to be turning slowly in our favor. Great cultural shifts don’t happen overnight, but in the last few years the strides have been enormous, and largely unthinkable as recently as the 90’s. The good thing is that we have not had to do it alone – because we couldn’t.
The revolution, if we are to fully realize a revolution, is going to depend largely on our straight allies. There simply aren’t enough gay people willing to put themselves out there and fight for it. Luckily, the enlightened straight people are taking up that challenge, fighting just as hard and valiantly for equality, as they recognize that to deny the rights of one person is to diminish the rights of all of us.
The more I thought about it, the more it struck home. All of my best friends – the folks I’ve held close to my heart for fifteen, twenty, thirty years – are, across the board, straight. Granted there aren’t many – I can count on two hands the number of life-long friends I’ve maintained – but they are the people who matter the most – Suzie, Chris, Missy, JoAnn – they know who they are – and they have been there for all of it. Unconsciously, I’ve surrounded myself with straight allies all my life.
While the villains often get more notice, the good guys wage a quieter, more dignified fight – and they pay for it with less fanfare and bombast. I’m guilty of it myself – you’re more likely to see a rant against a homophobic person than a congratulatory message on someone’s efforts toward equality. In an attempt to rectify that, I’m going to make a concerted effort to feature those who are working to make the world a better place, instead of those aiming to divide and destroy.
In the coming months, I’m planning to do a number of profiles on Straight Allies – those who have fought in their own way against homophobia, and for a better world of equality.
Meet Sally Kern. She’s a Republican Rep. in Oklahoma. She, along with Liz Lemery Joy, (whom I dealt with HERE), thinks that being gay is a choice. Both are apparently taking tips from the same book of hate. Ms. Kern, however, has a history of it. Not content to attack gay people, she has also made racist remarks, and ignorant comments about women. As always, an injustice against one person is an injustice against all. Here is one of her statements:
“We have a high percentage of blacks in prison, and that’s tragic, but are they in prison just because they are black or because they don’t want to study as hard in school? I’ve taught school, and I saw a lot of people of color who didn’t study hard because they said the government would take care of them.”
She was no more kind towards women, whom she believed earned less money at their jobs because they “tend to think more about their family, wanting to stay at home more, wanting to be with their family, have more leisure time.”
Hello hateful racial and gender stereotypes. As for her views on homosexuality being a choice, she had more despicable words: “They are not born that way. God would not call something an abomination and make someone where they had no choice. They have the opportunity, they have the power to say no to that lifestyle… None of us gets to choose the temptations we deal with. We are all tempted. We are all sinners. We can all say no to destructive temptations.”
How does my being gay translate into something destructive? And if it is indeed against what God wants, He will deal with me when I meet Him. It has no effect on you, Ms. Kern. If we were all bound to the sins of others, we would all be going to Hell no matter how you spin it.
This is the main point that the Bible-believers miss: you cannot single out one portion of the Bible and use that so literally, while ignoring all the others. And to attribute the portended downfall of civilization to gay people – instead of, let’s say, religious zealots who murder anyone opposed to their beliefs – is absurd. The fact that you’re singling out homosexuals makes it an act of homophobia, in the same way that singling out blacks as lazy is racist.
Until an oppression is lifted, you never realize how much it’s been weighing you down. If all your life you’ve been told you are not as good as someone because you are gay – either literally or symbolically – if that’s all you’ve ever known, when the realization comes that you are as good, that you are equal… it’s a big deal. That’s what I’m going through now as New York State becomes the sixth state in the nation to make gay marriage legal.
It feels different when it’s your own rights that are being decided – and when the right decision is made, it feels a little overwhelming. The majority of people won’t ever know what that feels like (that’s why they’re the majority). But for the minority of us who have been denied certain basic human rights – to anyone for that matter who’s been hated or discriminated against for being different – being granted the acknowledgment that we are equal is a big thing. I hate to say that it validates us, because we have always been valid, but in a way that’s what it feels like.
It says we are human.
It says we are worthy.
It says we deserve our love.
As I sit here writing this, with tears once again welling up in my eyes, I am simultaneously touched, saddened, emboldened, and exhilarated that I get to live in this great state, in this great country – where so much is wrong, but where so much can be made right.
I have to admit, until we received it, I never realized how much it bothered me, and how much it worked to silence me. Last night, as we passed people on the way to the gay bars where we were going to celebrate, I walked proudly down the street. It used to be that I would cower a bit and hasten my pace, hoping they wouldn’t notice my white pants or flamboyant shirt. I used to keep my head down and avoid eye contact, remembering moments when someone would shout ‘fag’ at me. Not tonight. I walked with head held high, daring someone to say it. Tonight I felt liberated.
How sad that it was that way, and I wish I’d had that same belief in myself for all these years, but I didn’t. Because no matter how well I carried myself, no matter how confidently I may have come across, internally I never really felt it. That’s what a society that treats you as less than equal has the power to do. It is soul-crushing – it is a stamping-out of one’s spirit, a trampling of one’s heart.
Over the years I put up many barriers and a lot of armor to deal with all my doubts and feelings of inadequacy- a wardrobe to impress, a wit to charm, a nonchalant arrogance and aloofness that was meant to read as ‘I don’t care what you think of me, I’m just as good as you’ but I never, ever truly believed it.
This morning, as the sun begins to peek out from behind a bank of clouds, I’m starting to believe.
At first I was afraid that bringing the topic of gay marriage to such a boiling point would result in an even bigger push-back by those against it. I’m not afraid of that anymore. All that they’re doing is exposing their ignorance and hate. All they can attempt is to stall equality and reveal their own homophobia and bigotry. Case in point: Liz Lemery Joy wrote on her Times Union blog that she was opposed to homosexual marriage. She begins her prejudiced story (yes, Ms. Joy, there is a ‘D’ at the end of the word “prejudiced” when you’re using it as an adjective) with a disclaimer. (All spelling and grammatical errors are her own):
“But, just because someone doesn’t support gay marriage, doesn’t make them a hater, evil, prejudice or a denier of other people’s rights. Nor does it make them homophobic. We can be against it, because God is very clear about homosexuality in His Word.”
Let me be very clear about this too. Ms. Joy is absolutely entitled to her beliefs on gay marriage. She has every right not to support it. However, the moment a person takes those beliefs and begins actively working to prevent gay people from getting legally married, is the moment that person becomes homophobic and bigoted. It’s that simple. When you work to deny the rights of someone based on their race, creed, gender, religion or sexuality, it is bigotry and discrimination.
Ms. Joy goes on to write, “I don’t believe people are born gay. How can I say that? Because God is a good God. He doesn’t purposely create people to be genetically homosexual, and then tell them to live in a way they are not physically or mentally capable of living. That would be cruel and unloving. God is not like that. That would be like saying- God created some people to purposely be stealers, liars, gossipers, adulterers, killers, idol worshipers, slanderers, or drunkards…
However, I do believe there can be strong tendencies towards certain behaviors from one person to another. I may need to resist the temptation to lie more than you. Another person may need to resist the temptation to drink alcohol more than me. Someone else may need to resist the temptation to get into adulteress affairs, or pornography.”
(Sorry, the English major in me has to correct “adulteress” ~ I really think she means “adulterous” in this context.) If we are to buy into her reasoning that it’s not homosexual tendencies that are wrong, but rather the acting on them, then we must apply that same argument to her: it is not the belief against gay marriage that is homophobic, but rather the action of working to prevent it. That is where the real bigotry resides.
She concludes, “I’m urging my legislators to vote no on gay marriage. I’m going to stand by God’s Word.”
Ms. Joy, you can stand by “God’s Word” all you want. That is your right. But by urging your legislators to vote no on gay marriage, and by posting these words in a public forum, those actions are homophobic, hateful, and bigoted. There’s no way around that. Show me the passage in the Bible that says you should be working to prevent gay marriage. It’s not there. See, we can go around and around in these Biblical arguments, but nothing I’ve done in my entire gay life, and in my marriage to another man, will ever come close to the pain, anguish, and suffering you have inflicted on innocent people whose marriages would have absolutely no effect whatsoever on you or your marriage. Where is the Christian love in interfering with two people who love each other? Marrying the man I’ve been with for over ten years did not infringe on your rights or beliefs. Stop infringing on mine.
Yesterday Andy and I attended the Rally for Love & Marriage at the State Capitol. It was my first rally, and it was awash in love and respect. The crowd was estimated at around 500, which was way more than I thought would be there. There was some singing and the occasional brief chant (both of which I do not do in public), but more importantly there were supportive speeches by Assembly Persons, Senators, labor reps, and various religious leaders of all denominations. It was a powerful statement on how much of this state supports marriage equality.
Kicking it off was Republican Senator Jim Alesi, who was the first to break ranks with his party and give a definitive ‘Yes’ for marriage equality. Based on the thunderous applause he received, it struck me that the political consequences for supporting marriage equality go both ways. In this instance, Senator Alesi gained a number of fans. Senator Roy McDonald is the only other Republican to indicate his support for the bill, and he’s seen his own support ebb and flow from it. It also struck me that Senator Skelos – the Senate Majority Leader – will likely be held responsible should this bill not come to a vote, and that will have its own political fall-out.
Personally, I would want to be on the right side of history, on the side of equality, but that’s why I’d never make a good politician. For now, the fate of marriage equality rests in the hands of a few Senators in the state where I was born and raised. I hope, and I pray, that they make me proud.
It’s the smart thing to do.
It’s the right thing to do.
And it’s the time to do it.
History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the vitriolic words & the violent actions of the bad people, but the appalling silence & indifference of the good people.
~ Martin Luther King, Jr.
No matter what happens with the Senate’s vote (or non-vote) on marriage equality, Andy and I will always have this.
Sometimes the love of a parent ~ and the unconditional support only they can offer ~ means more than anything else in the world. Once again, love trumps injustice, love conquers discrimination, and love obliterates all arguments against itself. That’s what marriage has always been about ~ love. The fact that a strict, practicing Catholic like my Mom can see that is proof that this issue is not about religion.
For me, marriage has only been about love. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Granted, there are numerous laws and rights that go along with it, but I’ve always considered those beside the point. Andy and I got married because we loved one another, and wanted to make that commitment. How does this threaten the institution of marriage? How does it do anything but embolden and celebrate it?
Those who are opposed to same-sex marriage are, in essence, attacking marriage itself. They are against the whole idea that two people who love each other should be so joined. They are the ones who are turning marriage into something other than the simple union of two people who want to spend their lives together. As for Andy and myself, we’re lucky enough to be surrounded with loving and caring friends and family who fully support our marriage. No legislature, no government, and no religion will ever change that.
Here’s my Mom’s letter as published by the Times Union:
I believe marriage equality will eventually become the law of the land. New York may choose to be one of the first or one of the last states to grant this basic right. I hope we will go down in history as being a leader rather than a follower.
History rarely criticizes societies for granting human rights. On the contrary, it condemns human rights violations. Marriage is an ancient, venerable institution, due the utmost respect. Individuals are also due the utmost respect. Marriage is, in part, a public institution in the sense that it carries legal rights guaranteed by civil law. It is also private in its nature, involving only the married couple.
In 1974, I married a man of a different race. At that time, there were places right here in the United States where my marriage would have been viewed as a crime. The Alabama state Senate did not repeal the ban on interracial marriage until 1999. Yes, 1999.
The arguments against interracial marriage were similar to the arguments against gay marriage, in the sense that they were based on ignorance. My marriage of nearly 37 years has neither undermined nor damaged the institution of marriage. It has had no effect on the marriage of anyone else. Similarly, the marriage of a gay couple could not impair the marriage of any other couple. Unfortunately, these arguments die slowly.
I urge the state Senate to finally pass the Marriage Equality Act. There is no valid reason not to do so.
It happens almost every year, whether it’s a Pride Parade in Albany, Boston, or Rochester: I get a little teary-eyed. If there weren’t a ton of people around me, I’d probably let out a torrent. Instead, I keep it mostly inside, and on a rainy year like this no one notices a few extra drops on my face.
I can’t fully explain it. Part of it is the simple act of marching ~ the collective energy and efforts of a group of people who have, at some point in our lives, been marginalized and hated ~ if not specifically or individually then as a whole ~ all together and in unison.
Part of it is the various groups ~ the Youth Group, the Gay Fathers, the Dykes on Bikes ~ each one of them is moving in their own right, each one has a tale to tell, of hurt and hope, of triumph and tragedy, of life and death.
And part of it is simply the sea of smiling faces ~ friends, families, and complete strangers, all coming together in celebration and commemoration. For all these reasons, I always feel overcome at various parts of the parade, and it never fails to elicit a few heartfelt tears from an otherwise-stone heart. Such was the case as I stood under a concrete eve near Shreve, Crump, & Low, watching the Boston Gay Pride Parade move slowly by in the rain. From the giddy drag queens to the dancing go-go-guys, from the Trolleys of gay octogenarians to the little rainbow-flag-waving child, everyone was joyful and happy, despite the non-stop rain and a chilly breeze. Even the leather-masked men were all smiles through their harnesses.
I still believe that if you think of someone at their happiest, when they’re smiling or laughing or finding joy in the world, you can never really be mad at them. You can’t hate someone’s happiness. (At least I can’t.) More importantly, you can’t hate someone’s love.
Whenever I try to understand the reasons for attacking gay marriage, I can’t get beyond the fact that it is, at its core, an attack on love. And how can anyone be hated for loving? That kind of hatred is something I cannot access, cannot fathom. That kind of hatred doesn’t make sense to my head or heart. And on that rainy day in Massachusetts, in the city where Andy and I were married ~ just a few blocks from where we were joined in the Boston Public Garden ~ there was nothing but love around me. In that safety, in that warmth, in that relief, I cried out of joy and hope for what the world could, and should, be.
When we got married, Andy and I did so out of rather selfish, non-heroic reasons: we loved one another and wanted to commit to each other under a sacred bond, and the blessings of family and friends. We just wanted to formally declare our love and create an official legal partnership. We had no social agenda or political motivation, so the idea of our union paving the way for gay marriage equality never really crossed our minds.
It wasn’t until we were opening the cards and gifts from friends and family that the greater extent and meaning of what we had done came to full realization. We were two gay men who had dared to marry each other, when it’s not even legal in our home state or most of our country, and then celebrate our union in front of 200 people – doctors, lawyers, police officers, co-workers, a Congressman, and family and friends from across the continent. A few of the letters expressed thanks for furthering marriage equality, something neither Andy nor myself thought much about prior to this.
It was an elegantly-framed poem written by a friend that may have affected us the most. To begin with, anyone who can write a poem is pretty impressive for that reason alone. I’ve always found poetry to be one of the most difficult forms of writing to accomplish well. (Somehow I squeaked through with a ‘B’ in the sole poetry course I took at Brandeis, and that was just analyzing poems by others, not writing anything ourselves. Good thing, because, to put it simply and unpoetically, I suck at it.)
Someone who doesn’t suck at it is our friend Skip Montross, who turns out to be the pretty damn good poet who penned the poem for us. That it was written by a straight guy moved us both – that it was from great friends like Skip and Sherri was even more touching. I knew Skip was a good guy – I didn’t know how good until we read this:
We searched both high and low,
For the perfect gift to give.
Something that you’d remember,
For as long as you both shall live.
But they don’t make his and his towels you see,
What you’re doing is kind of new.
Sadly the world isn’t there yet,
They’ve not caught up to you.
Some people are convinced,
That theirs is the only way.
They say marriage is not the right of every man,
Especially those who are gay.
But yet you’re both defiant,
And your love you do not hide.
Brave and boastful you share it,
Full of both beauty and of pride.
Those of us who’ve known you,
Through your long and storied past.
Know that yours is the truest of loves,
The kind to ever last.
And as you drink and dance and laugh,
Take a look at your gathered friends,
For in the face of arrogant ignorance,
They stand with you til’ the end.
But worry not of that this night,
Just bask in joy and glory.
For tonight we choose to celebrate,
The ‘Andy and Alan’ story.
I think people wanted to see The Wedding Coat more than anything else at our reception, so without further ado, here it is.
Extra special thanks again to Marline’s Momma, who made this coat of dupioni silk. She really crafted an amazing work of artistic couture.
All I had to do was add some organza and tulle to finish it up.
Here is a simple riddle for you: What takes 25 yards of dupioni silk, 80 yards of tulle, and 50 yards of organza to create? If you guessed my wedding reception coat, you’d be correct. I won’t even begin to calculate the hours of labor that went into it between myself and Marline’s Momma, who did most of the sewing. (She is amazing.)
For my part, I created the train and immense tulle underlay (all 80 yards of it). The hundreds of organza ruffles had to be individually hand-sewn by yours truly, but with customary diligence and planning I finished them all a while back, filling four large bags with the whimsical frills before applying them to the train.
The only problem is that it’s not quite conducive to walking, not so much because of the weight but rather the immensity and bulkiness of all that tulle and fabric (it actually requires that I be buckled into it.) Basically, I won’t be wearing it for long. However, it practically stands on its own, so I don’t even need to be inside it for people to enjoy its beauty.
It was, as it always is, a labor of love.
“Never again would they be parted. All the rest of their lives they would be together.” ~ E.B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan
The first thing most people asked when I returned from our wedding was whether or not I felt any different. I assumed, and professed many times, that I would not feel any such shift… why should anything change after nine years with Andy? The biggest difference would be a bit more sparkle on my ring finger, and a few new memories of Boston.
I was wrong. The day I got married was one of the happiest of my life. The ceremony, the words, the blessings of family and friends, and the legal document ~ they all created a moment and a covenant between Andy and me that made a profound difference in my life. It was as if, finally, our relationship was official. Not that it hadn’t been for the previous ten years ~ this just affirmed it publicly, and though outwardly nothing may have changed, I think it resonated within both of us.
I don’t usually gush about love and stuff ~ and I’ve always taken the hard line and adhered to Madonna’s warning of, “What’s the point of sitting down and notating your happiness?” There’s something powerful and compelling about the darker side of life, something more interesting and artistic in the sadder aspects of our world~ but every now and then there’s a moment of happiness and joy that transcends the cliches and mundane platitudes of Hallmark love, and for the first time I felt that.
For our last evening in Boston, we prepared for a very special dinner at Mistral, courtesy of my Mom and Dad. We had never been there, so we made the reservations based on good word of mouth, and the hope that all the rave reviews were true.
For this night, I brought out a checkered bow tie.
Andy chose a tie by Christian Lacroix. (Yes, sweetie darling, Lacroix.)
Dinner was amazing – I debated between the cornish game hen and their signature sole dish, opting for the sole in the end. Andy’s sister Karen got the game hen and said it was excellent.
Andy finished with a piece of carrot cake that he says is the best he has ever had in his life. It was a glorious end to the happiest weekend of my life.
We walked Karen back to the Park Plaza on a beautiful, breezy spring night.
Our hotel welcomed us home with bursts of peonies, and warm light.
For our final fashion moment – t-shirts and boxers – the true sign of a contented couple.
And so begins our happily ever after…
{To be continued on July 24, 2010.}
