About six weeks ago we were at a common meal and one of my neighbors who I don't know very well came up to me and asked me if I would officiate at her wedding. I was taken aback, since she isn't in the usual category of people who ask me this question. Maybe 15 years ago one of our old workers asked me to be the master of ceremonies at her wedding (the couple had already been married by a justice of the peace, so this was less stressful than it might have been). Then my lifelong friend Laura Cooper called me about three weeks before her wedding and asked me to step in, as her first choice had fallen through. This was a real one and I had to work hard on the plane ride to Seattle to write my part. And then almost two years ago my sister Anna asked me to officiate, another real one, and that one was super easy. There is nothing easier than writing a marriage homily for someone you know and love. My first three experiences as the officiant all went very well because of my relationship to the wedding couples.
I wasn't at all sure why my neighbor was asking me, and I said so. She had asked our neighbor Kenyon, who does seem perfect as an officiant in every possible way, and he had pointed her to me. I didn't know what to say, except that we would need to get to know each other a little better if I was really going to do this. So we met twice, making appointments for Saturday afternoons (I was late both times, forgetting once and getting distracted by the arrival of pigs the second time), and I asked the couple to tell me their story. They have a 9 month old baby who was born with lots of health complications (resolving well) and they have been through a lot together already, even though they have known each other for less than two years.
This couple was married in a courthouse a year ago, so the pressure was not so terrible -- we wouldn't really be able to mess it up. The extended families of the new parents were completely involved in the planning and execution of the event. The bride's family is French, cooks delicious and amazing French food, and the groom's family has many talents as well. I was not involved at all in the planning or preparation for this party. I just had to be ready at 3:00 on Sunday with my part written. Actually, I had to be ready for the rehearsal at 5:00 the day before. There were lots and lots of people with opinions, and I got to overrule everyone and make one major change in the plans -- and they listened to me because I was the officiant. Their plan was to have everyone sitting at tables that were already set, and have the wedding happening in the middle of the tent on the dance floor. I nixed that. I said all the people had to be close around us in chairs and the people could move their own chairs back to the tables afterwards. This was not a cabaret, this was a wedding. I was, of course, right.
I had learned from Laura's husband Stuart, the ship's pilot, that a wedding should be rehearsed until the blocking is completely memorized. We should not rely on our brains on the wedding day. Before Laura's wedding, at Stuart's insistence, we did five run-throughs of the ceremony (without speaking any of the words). This paid off because we had to move the event indoors at the last minute, cramming ourselves into a space that was meant for the reception, not the ceremony, and since we were all so rehearsed, it went perfectly. So, we rehearsed the sequence on Saturday evening until everyone could do it without vocal instructions.
On Sunday morning I had to sort tomatoes for the Takoma Park load, help them load up, pick flowers for the wedding, set up the CSA for the 130 customers who would be very confused if the room was not as they expect it to be every Sunday and then I had to figure out what I wanted to wear in the middle of an August afternoon for an outdoor wedding.
I don't know if this is the family culture or what, but there was no wedding party in evidence at 3 PM. People were arriving slowly, and gravitating toward the Common House with the air conditioning and the food. I sat in the tent and waited for something to happen. Sophie's uncle was setting up the sound system so we practiced with the microphones. We waited. After about half an hour I started to wonder what was going on. By 3:45 we were ready to roll.
Everything went beautifully. It was a real wedding. I was not nervous at all (how times have changed) and I felt like we were all doing something meaningful and homemade and serious. The bride was beautiful. The flowers were lovely. My words were right. Despite my repeated requests for a copy of their vows, they had never produced them for me, so right in the middle of the ceremony, after the I Do part, I asked them if they had anything they wanted to say. Chris did a nice job of speaking from the heart, and Sophie pulled a crumpled piece of paper from somewhere in her dress. It was perfect.
At the end of the day, after a choir rehearsal that I could barely stay awake for, I was completely wilted. I was so glad I was not part of the crew that had to clean up after the wedding. I have been there on multiple occasions, and I know now to appreciate the times when that is not my job.
The title of this post refers to the role of farmers and ship captains as people who marry and bury people. We do it all.
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