I attended three weddings last summer, all very different, but all very similar in one crucial aspect: They each laid a shared foundation for a future life.
The first was for my cousin, Jeff, and his bride, Melinda, in a Lutheran church in Longmont, Colorado. It was everything the traditional American wedding ‘should’ strive to be. Jeff was handsome in his dark tuxedo with matching black cowboy hat and boots.
Melinda was splendid in an elegant white gown, her long blond hair spilling down.
The preacher talked about the couple becoming one person, mind and soul, through the grace of God in a holy tripartite marriage of husband, wife and Jesus Christ. I’ll admit, I sat in a back pew and tried not to giggle when the man said Jesus four times in a single sentence. I counted. The reception was lovely, the food good, the sangria generous, and the families friendly to one another.
The second wedding was the long-overdue union of my brother and now sister-in-law. Brandon and April had been together for eight years, practically glued at the hip ever since that Halloween party I had dragged him to. They moved in together the next spring.
My mother had been more than hinting for years. She had even flat out offered to pay the plane ticket to Vegas if they brought back a marriage certificate. But April could never quite make up her mind how she wanted to do it and could never quite find a way to please all her family or cajole them all into attending.
An email from my brother a week after Jeff’s wedding clued me in to their plans to tie the knot while they were vacationing in Denver the following week. Marriage law is simpler in Colorado because you don’t require an official; you can essentially marry yourself once you have the necessary paperwork.
Did I know any pretty places near the courthouse where they could take pictures and say their vows? I recommended the civic gardens between the city-county building and the state capitol and promised to meet them there and bring a cake.
It was all somewhat hush, hush. Since they hadn’t found a way to please all of the family, they decided to please none of it. I and April’s sister, Dawn, along with a few close friends, were the only ones in attendance, and we were sworn to secrecy until they returned home.
April was beautiful and smiling fit to break her face in a cobalt blue gown, with Brandon in a black tuxedo and matching blue vest. We took dozens of photographs and attracted the tearful attention of passers-by. Brandon and April (she cried) exchanged vows and rings, and then we adjourned to visit a local restaurant for lunch.
The third wedding was between two friends who had met at the summer camp where we had all worked at the year before. A Chinese girl from Toronto married a Greek boy from Texas in a Tibetan stupa (look it up) in Colorado. Jermaine and Stylios were elegant in their simplicity, he in a simple while linen suit without a tie, she in a vintage white dress with a red Chinese shall (an Asian Audrey Hepburn) and a bouquet of red daisies.
The marriage was officiated by a Shambhala Acharya (senior teacher) who could not have been more different from the Lutheran minister. She spoke of how we are all essentially alone even in marriage. We may never fully know our spouse, but curiosity can kindle passion, and we can find joy in spending a lifetime learning about one another as we travel the same path together.
Again, I sat off in back on a blue meditation cushion and tried not to giggle, this time when Jermaine gently rearranged the flower offering Stylios had imperfectly set before the giant Buddha. I suppose I’m not very good at being solemn.
The reception was full of good Greek food, wine and dancing in the shrine room of Sacred Studies Hall (the only dance floor that necessitates bowing upon entering). The families of bride and groom had flown in for the occasion and offered humorous toasts of fine sake.
Three weddings, each as different as possible, resulted in three marriages, each of which was obviously built on a strong foundation of love, trust and respect. I have no fears for these couples because I can see the bonds that hold them.
First, the bonds of shared values, demonstrated by the way each couple wed, were established in a manner satisfying to both parties. There were no bride-zillas here, no unreasonable demands for perfection. Each ceremony had its little quirks and mishaps, but that is part of what makes them special. They become the “Do you remember when…?” stories that families pass down.
Each couple married in their own way, not in the way most pleasing to their parents, friends or family. I believe that is important. A wedding is a celebration of the love between two people, not an exercise in social conformity or an excuse to get a new blender.
I wish my very best to all who choose to marry this summer and to Jeff, Melinda, Brandon, April, Jermaine and Stylios.
Monica Sanford is a graduate student in Architecture and Community and Regional Planning. Reach her at monicasanford@dailynebraskan.com.
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