OUR WEDDING DAY
OCTOBER 9, 1996

Part 1 by Eljay

Right up to the last moment, I wasn't sure we were going to go through with it. Johnny, the children's godfather and my best friend, was out of town -- "I can't get married without you," I wailed. "Maybe I'll stay away for a while, then," he quipped with an undertone of seriousness. The night before the day before, I had argued vehemently to Jesse that we shouldn't do it yet, and finally gotten him to agree with me. Why didn't it feel like a victory? The next morning, we faced telling the kids. Spike cried when I said we were going to wait a few weeks. To him, that means it was not going to happen. Suddenly it seemed pointless, waiting. Two weeks was not going to change anything. We both were determined (or resigned) to this happening. It was destiny. Sometimes it seemed like a game of chicken, both waiting for the other to dive out first. "Let's do it tomorrow," I decided; our close friends were ready; it wasn't supposed to rain, despite Hurricane Josephine the evening before (echoing Hurricane Bertha from the day of our engagement); and October ninth had the appropriate karmic convergences (John Lennon's birthday, Jesse's brother's birthday, and it involved the number nine).

I got the kids ready for school, Jesse was driving them in and I was picking them up. The Justice of the Peace was scheduled for 1:30. We both had lists of final to-do's. Me: get balloons; get something done to hair, get rings. Jesse was to get spirulina, the bouquet, the license and get his hair cut. Hair seemed uncharacteristically important to us today.

I got the balloons (nine of them) and Elise did amazing things with her blow dryer to attempt to divert attention away from my newly large frame (yes, it's true, we are pregnant, but the consequences seem only to be reflected on my body). Upon coming home, I found that Jesse was having problems with City Hall. They had hung up on him, the cads! It seems we only had the results of the requisite syphilis blood test, not the standard form that said we agreed to have the blood tests done. This apparently was a big problem for the local bureaucrats. Would we get the license in time? I drove out to Concord, and put on eyeliner, something I only wear when I get married or give birth. Dana offered to help (not with my eyeliner, but with the wedding preparations). I gave her my AmEx and sent her down the street to get $6 plastic purple rings, and rice. The kids got in and we rushed back to see if Jesse had got the license or got arrested because he set City Hall on fire for hanging up on him.

Jesse had the license as well as three parking tickets, and was not in handcuffs (a rare event). He also had a huge grin on his face that indicated something interesting was up, presumably with the flowers. Another tip off was he kept saying, "Wait till you see the bouquet, Elj", while poking me in the ribs. "Alright, tell me," I acquiesced after my ribs could take no more. He showed me the order slip from the florist, which said "Get this -- tiger lilies and chili peppers, think Andy Warhol NOT Martha Stewart, be Funky and Bold". Jesse understood. Hopefully the florist would too.

When I first met Jesse, so many decisions ago, I was wearing Chili Pepper earrings. (They have since met the fate of so many earrings, and alas, now there is only one.) Tiger lilies had independently been our favorite flower for years, but weren't they out of season? It was one o'clock -- Jesse shrieked, "It's time to get the bouquet!" Coco was stuffing pretzels in her mouth while getting glitter all over the kitchen and Spike was on some mission, running from the first floor to the third and back asking if we had the right license and where were his programs? Peter, Jesse's brother, who had innocently come to Cambridge just to help with the basement and now had to contend with going to a wedding (and filming it) was frantically searching for dress-up clothes that fit him. I lent him some socks. "Let's go! Let's go!," shouted Jesse, pushing us all toward the car. He had changed into his tuxedo somewhere along the way, and I caught a glimpse of a green paisley material underneath it, another surprise, no doubt. The movie camera batteries were charged and we were ready to go.

We dropped off Coco and her escort, Peter, at Longfellow Park (a return to the scene of our engagement -- see "The Night of a Thousand Stars"). Spike opted to stay in the Trooper with the frenetic bride and groom singing repeatedly "Here comes the bride, all fat inside, here comes the groom, thin as a broom" This would be endearing perhaps, if I were not three months pregnant and 15 pounds heavier than usual.

We saw some of the guests arriving as we sped toward Harvard Square -- there was Dana, in her six foot glory, there was Johnny looking dapper in a green sportscoat, there was Peter Keough with his bag of reading material in case things got slow. The omnipresent parking cop let us park illegally for a minute in honor of our excuse of getting married. Jesse and the florist came out with a huge basket of fiery reds and oranges and purples that gave new meaning to the word "bold." It was the most beautiful bouquet I had ever seen. Jesse was very proud and I praised him effusively and he beamed accordingly. We sped back to Longfellow Park, not wanting to be late to our own wedding. Jesse had found 11 spirulinas in almost as many stores (they are very popular, believe it or not, at least in Cambridge, as well as with the Aztecs and the Mayas) and set them up for a toast afterward.

Dana, Peter G., Peter K., Johnny and Coco had been joined by Matt & Clare who used to be married until last summer. In fact, so had Dana, and Peter K's live-in girlfriend had just moved to New York City. We hoped this was a sign of the times and not a personal "sign." Suddenly a vision with red hair, a black leather mini skirt, a chili-pepper-colored sweater and knee high black boots appeared -- it was Mopsy, the one responsible for introducing us on that famous March evening with those memorable words: "Leather meets leather!" (She was wearing the leather miniskirt because she knew I couldn't today -- it was what I wore on the fateful night.) Looking around at the gay scene as well as my punk shoes, she concluded reassuringly, "You don't have to worry about losing your edge Eljay!" , as she knows any step into a societal convention (and no cool maternity clothes) made me fear a pod-like smooth existence. "You two together were just meant to be!" (Mopsy says everything in exclamation points and italics). She buzzed around taking pictures, enthusiastically hugging us and the kids, proudly announcing her contribution to the event which would not have happened without her, a Cantabridgian sight if ever there was one.

I started putting flowers under Longfellow's nose and tying balloons around the park. Spike and Coco raced each other, Peter got acquainted with the Zoom lens, Dana flirted, Jesse expounded to anyone who would listen about the bouquet and "how much somethin' like that goes fo'", Johnny and Peter mumbled Yankee niceties to each other; we all wondered where the Justice of the Peace was.

Jesse ran to the Longfellow House looking for her and of course, she immediately showed up from the other direction. Now we were missing the groom, who was undoubtedly telling the meter people and anyone else who would listen all about the bouquet. Finally he returned chattering away to some strangers about the wedding and the engagement and his spirulina-colored vest. Jesse pinned boutonnires of chili peppers and tiger-lily-colored roses (actual tiger lilies "would crush," according to the florist) onto everyone and we were ready.

We took our places, in an improvised kind of way, in front of the statue of Henry Wadsworth who gazed down at us with a stony glare and the look of profound thought that only statues of long dead poets can have. The rose and balloon made him look a little more festive than usual. Spike led the procession (to Spike and Coco, this was a normal wedding and they were Very Serious). Johnny and I followed, and Jesse and Coco, clutching about 117 flowers that were bigger than she was, were at the end. Coco took her role of Flower Girl very seriously, refusing to let anyone else hold any flowers. "What song do you want to hear?," shouted Clare. "Heart and Soul" I replied without thinking, a song that Jesse (and his brother Dan) had attempted to teach me on the piano, but the rhythm still eluded me. As we walked down our self-made aisle, Matt and Clare exuberantly hummed Heart and Soul. They are destined to get back together.

We walked as far as we could and stopped. "Now, are you going to ask who giveth this woman"? asked Johnny. "No" the J.P. replied, "I just do the legal stuff." Johnny relievedly went and took his place on the side, satisfied that his duties were over. Spike and Coco stood and looked somber on the other side of us. Somehow we made it through the name errors (Lisa Jayne, Not Lisa Jean!) and the complicated task of looking at each other and repeating after her. We pledged our love to each other forevermore, a wine glass was smashed with the requisite Mazel Tov, the groom kissed his bride; and before the eyes of Longfellow, a few friends, our children and the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, we were husband and wife.

The children formally accepted Jesse as their Daddy in a short ceremony after that, administered by the compliant city official. Spike asked if he could now eat the chili peppers on Jesse's boutonnire and began munching away. We were a family!

All single people, male and female (everyone there excepting Mopsy and us, as of seconds ago) formed a circle behind me as I got ready to throw the bouquet which would, if tradition is to be believed, designate them as the next to be married. I closed my eyes and threw it. The videotape revealed that it was heading for Peter Gordon, but Dana (he and Dana were the tallest ones there) with a mid-air grab that would make any basketball player envious, snatched it about an inch from his hands and clutched it possessively. Better luck next time, Peter.

Everyone was talking and hugging, the J.P. left without her purse, we had a spirulina toast. Some of the guests used rather strong words to describe the taste -- "vile" was one of them -- but most, including the kids, were enthusiastic about sharing our favorite blue-green algae.

Jesse and I held hands tightly. We did it; we belonged to each other for richer or poorer, in sickness or health, for better or worse, forever, partners in life, friends in love, lovers in destiny, husband and wife, Jesse & Eljay.

OUR WEDDING DAY
OCTOBER 9, 1996
Part 2 by Jesse

I woke up on Spike's upper bunk because one is not supposed to sleep with the bride on the night before. Here we go, I thought, every single event today will be symbolic ,every action will be recorded. every thought will be remembered.

We did the standard breakfast struggle and horrendous commute to Concord where I mentioned casually to Coco's teacher that we were getting legally married today. "New Jersey was too fussy about blood tests and legalisms," I explained trying to sound dismissive. "We wanted to make it just a paper-signing thing, but everyone we tell wants to come and it just keeps growing."

Now it had become an all-day affair, and I plotted out my strategy and driving route for the activities of the day. City Hall was a real problem, since they resolutely held the requisite piece of paper until I bribed the health clinic into providing me with an earlier requisite piece of paper. But the florist was a charming fellow who just adored making nosegays and was enchanted by the idea of chili peppers in a bouquet, so I knew the event itself would turn out alright.

Karma proved itself effective, as Eljay got rings without telling me she would (it was next on my list, but I didn't get to it); the Star Market had just gotten a shipment of spirulina in (obviating the need for visiting three more Whole Food stores and leaving me time to locate a good vest and bowtie, spirulina-colored for Eljay and paisley-patterned for Mom); the Justice of the Peace was late (making us seem on time); Li'l Bro' Pete remembered a wine glass to stomp; Spike and Coco somehow behaved uncharacteristically well.

We vowed our love for each other and I grinned the dopey smile of the man who considers himself the luckiest guy on earth for getting to marry the hot babe of his dreams. We kissed when we thought we were done, but the J.P. said, "No, you're not married yet!" and then pronounced the mantra about the power vested in her, which almost got messed up because there was a mosquito buzzing my neck, which I tried to blow away out of the corner of my mouth. The J.P. finally said we were official, and we kissed again, and in my dopiness I forgot about the mosquito, who got me on my left jawbone, immortalized on videotape as a black spot on our karmically blissful moment.

Spike had thought of his own ceremony: Longfellow Park has a 50-yard diameter circular walkway, so Spike figured a ceremony should be held in its dead center while Coco strewed flowers around the perimeter. After the legalities were performed, I told them to go ahead and strew, and saved Coco (never a champ at estimation) from running out of flowers at the 90” point by re-supplying her from those standing around Longfellow's statue providing the backdrop for the legal ceremony.

Spike had found a storm drain at the center of the circle, and excitedly screamed "This must be the exact middle!", implying that we'd better do Something Significant there. As Coco finished strewing the perimeter with roses, I picked up Spike and said, "You can officially call me daddy now." "I'll probably make some mistakes because I'm used to calling you Jesse," he explained apologetically. We had a head-shaking hug (a Cottontail family specialty) and spun around a few times to make it more formal and to let Coco finish her flowery task.

I performed the same ceremony with Coco, as Spike ran around the circle picking up all the strewn flowers (ever the neat one). Coco wanted to hang upside-down for a while as she practiced saying "daddee-ee." Then Spike returned to inform us that the storm drain on which we were standing was not, in fact, the exact center because the lawn itself was asymmetrical, but he accepted that it was an appropriate ceremonial spot anyway.

Our guests began to wonder what to do next (except Johnny and Peter Keough who had to get back to their day jobs) so we all headed off for the House of Blues. Karma once again reared its serendipitous head, because I was supposed to have called restaurants to see who could accommodate a party of 10 at mid-afternoon, and I had meant to call Casablanca, but I ran out of time, so Eljay arranged the House of Blues instead. "Hey, that's great," I said, "that's where we had dinner just before we walked to Longfellow Park when I proposed to you!" Eljay smiled knowingly. The House of Blues staff assumed we had planned the serendipity, and rewarded us with a free bottle of (cheap) champagne and free dessert of chocolate-covered strawberries.

We rushed out of the restaurant to get Li'l Bro' Pete on the 4:27 train to New York. Pete had cleverly decorated the car with shaving cream when he ostensibly ran out to feed the meter, so we had a full set of "Just Married"s all over the windows, delighting the bride, the groom, the kids, and the drunken bum residing on the sidewalk next to our parking spot. (The kids thought it was frosting but grimaced upon tasting it.) The shaving cream message served us well by protecting Eljay from getting a ticket as she sped to Back Bay Station, making illegal U-Turns and running the toll so we could get Peter there on time.

We rushed home so Eljay could rush off to her driver's safety class (one too many tickets, wouldn't ya know) after dancing in the streets to the neighbor's impromptu balalaika serenade. The kids wouldn't dance, but Spike ate a half dozen boutonnieres (once our M. D. neighbor assured Eljay it wouldn't make him sick) until he got a hot one, which made him run around looking for water and swear off peppers forever. The balalaika continued as Eljay drove off and me and the kids decorated the front porch for her return, ruing that the Christmas lights wouldn't work, which wasn't too surprising because they had been hanging there since five Christmases ago. The balloons, roses, chili peppers, and spirulina-colored crepe paper made up for the lack of lights, and Elj knew when she came home that she had come home to the Right Guy.