Want to feel good about life? Go to a wedding.
Those attending a matrimonial celebration are universally happy, upbeat and optimistic, and on top of that, everybody looks his or her best. Virtually everyone present at such an occasion seems to exude enough positivity, generosity and wholesomeness to light up a large city for a year. Aside from the occasional shotgun-toting prospective father-in-law and the groom upon whom he’s got his weapon trained, the only people attending a wedding who aren’t energized are those who arrive bound and determined not to be.
The only problem with relying on such joyous occasions for their outlook-enhancing value: Attendance at such events is by invitation only. And for those of us of a certain age securing a request for our presence at these types of events can be a bit of a challenge.
When it comes to weddings, I’m at an awkward age. I’m too old to have chronological peers taking the plunge. Nearly all of my friends and co-workers are either happily married or happily single. Everyone I grew up with who was interested in publicly pledging lifetime fidelity to another took care of it long ago; in fact, several have done so multiple times. Many of their children have already been married as well, but it’ll be a long time before any of their children’s children are ready to tie the knot.
As for my own three progeny, the oldest is still trying to decide whether or not it’s worth $5 to attend middle school dances. As a result of these circumstances, I find a wedding invitation in my mailbox about as often as I get a knock at the front door from a Publishers Clearing House representative telling me I’ve won their grand prize.
It’s too bad our family doesn’t get to witness more such celebrations. The few we’ve attended over the past decade have all been memorable. One of my cousin’s daughters got married over Labor Day weekend in Pennsylvania a few years ago; the highlight was someone snapping a photo of my then-4-year-old daughter smilingly holding an empty Heineken bottle, an image that will probably prevent her from ever seeking elective office.
A year or two later, another cousin’s daughter got married on a stormy, sultry evening where the lively, festive reception had even more positive electricity than the lightning-filled sky. Our family spent last year’s Labor Day weekend in New Jersey at the wedding of our nephew; the exclamation point on the Big Day was provided by the groom’s 85-year-old grandmother, who was movin’ and groovin’ on the dance floor long after the limousines that had transported her to the reception had turned into pumpkins.
The most recent wedding I had the good fortune to attend took place earlier this month. Outwardly, it featured a lot of what other such ceremonies did: an outrageously attractive happy couple, a handsome and friendly best man, a luminous maid of honor, an impossibly cute flower girl, an equally adorable pint-sized ring-bearer, and a large group of family and friends, each of whom was indescribably happy for the soon-to-be-wedded duo standing at the altar.
Several factors made the sunny, humid day memorable, not the least of which was the air conditioning inside the church. The singers and musicians were exceptionally good, although given that the couple getting married are both music teachers that wasn’t all that surprising. Another unusual (and less easily-explained) phenomenon: there were at least half a dozen children under the age of 3 in attendance, yet not one misbehaved or cried out during the entire ceremony. There was a reading from scripture that was as moving as it was inspirational, and a dramatization of a children’s story that was both entertaining and relevant. It was terrific celebrating a special day of joy, hope, love and peace with friends, colleagues, and lots of really nice people who’d previously been strangers.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the pastor pronounced the happy couple husband and husband. Our oldest child, who enjoyed the festivities immensely, quietly commented, “Daddy, I didn’t know that the church performed same-sex weddings.”
I had to briefly explain to him that not every church does. When he asked if the one that he attends performs such ceremonies, I had to truthfully respond that it did not.
He paused, furrowing his 13-year-old brow. Then he asked, “Why not?”
As a parent and teacher, I spend a lot of time trying to get young people to heed my words. But every so often, something occurs which reminds me that listening to youthful individuals is equally important.
Why not, indeed?
— Andy Young teaches in Kennebunk and lives in Cumberland.
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