Let me tell you about our wedding day.

It happened just before 5 pm on September 12th 2010 in the Newbury Town Meeting House, built in 1839. In attendance were the presiding Justice of the Peace, Wayne Richardson, and a gathering of 9 of our “most local” friends. Richard and I had contemplated extending the invitations out not only to a wider circle of Vermont friends but to those friends in other parts of New England and New York, if only as a gesture. However it got to be a complicated endeavor and we were very clear that simplicity was to be the hallmark of this event. So we chose to surround ourselves with those within about a 10 mile radius, friends who’d been instrumental in welcoming us here, in helping us restructure our home, working alongside us, being so generous in their giving. 2 of our guests had grown up in our house. Well, here’s the list of the people who were there: Susan Underwood, our town clerk; Shirley and Richard Burroughs (Shirley nee Thompson is one of those who grew up in our house); Gail and Dale Bromley (Dale was representing our house when we bought it and he and Gail, both realtors, have been so kind and fortifying through all times); Chris Mazzarella (an expert finish carpenter who’s designed and built cabinetry and framing throughout our home. He and his girlfriend, Emily, have been good friends for 3 years now. Sadly, Emily couldn’t make the wedding due to a job conflict. Not her fault, we sprung this ceremony on people very last minute.); our neighbors, Royce Thompson and Andy – ugh, I’ve forgotten Andy’s last name! (Royce also grew up in our home and is, as you’ve heard in these blogs, a factotum of not only everything about our house, but the surrounding area’s flora and fauna. A very kind and helpful friend.) And finally, there was a surprise non-local friend at the cermoney as well. Patty Anton happened to be traveling back east from LA for business in the Hartford/Boston area and phoned up to find out what we were up to and found that she’d be able to attend not only our wedding ceremony, but Richard’s 50th birthday party the day before. It was a good group.

The day was cool and grey. I got to the hall a bit early to turn on the little gas stove in the corner. Susan Underwood and Wayne Richardson and I had come to the hall earlier in the week to clear away the old voting canvas booths still up from the August primary to a back room. The room is long and wide with a fine wood enhanced echoe throughout. A raked section of benches, arranged very church-like, sits silent and upright on either side of you as you enter the hall. You can sense the people who’ve sat there over time, all of them watching on now. In front of the benches is a large open space (when cleared of voting paraphernalia) which could easily host a Virginia Reel. There’s a side docket up front to the right, looking somewhat like a small choir section. Two tall doors lead to the back rooms where junk and antiques have been crammed and stacked. On the side walls stretch tall rectangular windows, half lidded by roll down green window shades. The windows offer glimpses into the graveyards that surround the hall, the western most one hosting graves that date back to the early 19th century with the veteran’s gravesites sporting tiny American flags whipping in the wind. The graves suit the hall well. There’s no sense of unease or sadness about the place, more of heritage and time, history, life going on. Very Spoon River or Our Town. It’s all a part of the whole.

Richard and I had the ceremony filmed. Matt Bucy, an excellent filmmaker/editor/ jack-of-all-creative-trades friend, came up from White River Junction with his camera in tow. There was a dual purpose to the filming which was: to get an archive of the event for ourselves and also to include it in a documentary being made about Vermont in which Richard and my story of coming to Vermont as a gay couple will be a part. All our guests were very game with going along with the filming and Matt remained as unobtrusive as possible. As we milled about beforehand, nudging our guests not to forget to sign the release forms for the film, we learned a few new things. One was that Richard and Shirley had held the reception to their wedding in this space. “Hasn’t changed that much,” Richard commented. We also found out that the hall is unofficially overseen by Doris, a rather dour woman whose house can be seen out the western windows beyond the graveyard. Her “overseer” capacity is fully self-appointed. She was not asked or voted in. Still she makes her opinion known if any changes are inflicted upon the space not to her liking, such as a new lighting system, replastering the ceiling, moving the old cast iron/porcelain stove from the center of the room, general upkeep and sprucing. “No change!” is her battle cry. She’s lost most of those skirmishes, but she still keeps a close siege over the proceedings here. She wasn’t around on Sunday, but I’m sure she knew what was going on.

We began. Wayne stood in the center of the room with Richard and I on either side of him, the three of us facing a wide half circle of our smiling friends. People were so happy to be there, to have been asked. They kept saying how privileged they felt. It was so dear of them. Wayne had told us that the ceremony would last 4 minutes minus the comments both Richard and I would say to one another, which sounded very New England, very no nonsense, right to the point. No frills and furbelows. It suited us, it seemed to suit the hall.

Wayne had a written a little piece himself. Here’s a bit of what he said:

“Dan and Richard as the two of you come into this marriage, and as you this day affirm your faith and love for one another, I would ask that you always remember to cherish each other as special and unique individuals, that you respect the thoughts, ideas, and suggestions of one another. Be able to forgive, do not hold grudges, and live each day that you may share it together – as from this day forward you shall be each other’s home, comfort, and refuge, your marriage strengthened by your love and respect for each other.”

Not too shabby.

And since I was public that day about my comments to Richard, I would like to include them here. Earlier that day we had gone to separate parts of the house to find our muse, Richard downstairs in the kitchen, I upstairs in our new office space. I combed through quotation and poetry books to find some apt passage and the beginning sentence is an anonymous quote that helped kick off the rest of the piece for me. Here it is:

‘”If there is anything better than to be loved, it is loving.” And the great pleasure and privilege of my life is loving you, and being loved by you, Richard Waterhouse. There’s nothing that compares with hearing you say “hon” over the telephone, looking into your gorgeous blue eyes, seeing or hearing or making you laugh, making up, feeling your embrace in the morning, anytime, marveling that there are some things about you that may always be a mystery to me, the way you think, the way you experience something so uniquely in your fashion, so differently from me, and then those moments too when we share something and we seem to be thinking and feeling exactly the same. I love witnessing the great pleasure you get from living here, from our home, from your chickens and turkeys. I love witnessing you, it fills me with such warmth. You’ve won my heart so many times, Richard, and you continue to do so. You turn me on. Everyday, you teach me how to love more deeply. You help me be a better man. Thank you for the rich years we’ve spent together and God or Universe or Great Creator willing, we’ll have many, many more. I love you.’

(Richard’s comments were wonderful, but I’ll let him decide whether or not he wants to share them with a wider audience.)

True to Wayne’s prediction, after our comments, the ceremony whipped right through – the vows, the rings, the proclamation that we were married - the entire event clocked in at 10 minutes. After embraces and congratulations, we invited everyone over to our place for Perrier Jouet (provided by us) and assorted hors d’oeuvres (pot lucked in by our guests, again very New England) and there was much warmth and laughter and hearty conversation. One hilariously humbling story from years ago in LA was told by our friend Patty about her first bringing cats into our lives, an event I staunchly opposed. “The wall of No would come down,” Patty recounted and I buried my head in my hands, laughing, yes, and remembering how I had refused even entertaining the possibility of cats in our lives. “No change!” I feel for ya Doris. I was you. And what a doting felineophile I am now. Four beautiful felines who engage in all the activities that horrified me imagining back then – ripping up furniture, getting sick, pooping, bringing mice and moles and chipmunks, some dead, some not, into our home – they all happen and for now, pretty much all the time, I take it pretty much in stride.

I’m also a Vermonter now, with good Vermont friends.

And I’m a married man. Wow.

Okay, being married has to go onto the list of the reasons I’m here. I didn’t even know it would be important to me. And it is. It found me without me even looking for it. Sort of like Vermont did.

Have a splendid day!