The evening’s enchantment continued as the night sky went dark. Pools of light glowed beneath the tents and on the porch and terrace, candles flickered on the tables, and paper birds danced in mid-air.

{Carolyn & JoAnn}

{Carole & D}

{The infamous Sue Santa Lucia}

{Alissa & Chris}

{My cousins – Michael, Christy, & Megan. We get to see them every year at New Year’s, and other events like weddings.}

{My brother and me}

{More family – Michael, Aunt Sally, Uncle Ding, Mom, me, Andy, Uncle Andy, & Aunt Ann Sadone}

{Still more family – Karl, me, Andy, Andy’s niece Andrea, and Kristie}

{Me with Skip & Alura}

{Maria & Steve}

{Skip & me}

{Sherri (Skip’s way-better half), Marline, & Maria}

{The amazing Jim Sessions, who was my drink bitch for the night}

{Gary & Andy}

Like most married couples on their wedding day, we didn’t get to make much out of the dinner that was served (I didn’t even get to try any of the appetizers), and we only had time to lift a fast forkful or two off of our dinner plates. From what I understand, the food was great, including the cupcakes from Sweet Temptations (which I did get to try, even if it was the next day).

We hadn’t even thought to reserve one of the tables for ourselves, so with most seats occupied, Andy and I made do on the wicker couch on the terrace, overlooking all our friends and family in the main tent. That was our intimate moment of the evening, the two of us stealing a few quick bites of our wedding dinner, watching the laughter of the beloved people in our life.

It was precisely the evening we had hoped it would be – casual and loose and fun. The color theme was chartreuse and Tiffany blue – which is just a fancy way of saying lime green and aqua. I’ve always loved chartreuse, and Andy’s loved the Tiffany blue of some of his favorite cars. They went surprisingly well together.

As the sun went down on the back terrace, sheer curtains fluttered in the warm breeze, framing cream hydrangeas and glowing ivory candles.

The thousand paper cranes I spent the last year making were finally revealed, dangling on the side porch, winding their way along tent poles, and stationed at each place setting.

We wanted the evening to be whimsical and elegant, a momentary jewel, fleeting and transitory like a dream, founded on the wings of paper birds and garland, bathed in green and amethyst light around the glowing mist of a pool.

The heat and humidity were high, but the rain held out until everyone had arrived and the party was in full-swing. At that point it turned into a soaking wet free-for-all, and that was all right too. From tent to tent we ran, little adventures all around, dodging puddles and dripping awnings, some even basking in the wet relief from the heat.

{The guests arriving.}

{The Cape Cod Crew, in full effect.}

{Jen, Michel, & Sherri. Jen took most of these photos, graciously documenting some of our friends and family. Sincere thanks to her (and a couple of bottles to come).}

{Dad talking to our guests.}

{Carol & Gary}

{Lee & Vince}

{Eric & JoAnn}

{Cal & Lorie}

{Doris & Ed}

{Sue & Deb}

{Mary Ellen & Buck}

{Crazy & Momma}

{Joe, Me, Carla, & Missy}

We are very lucky to have such a great group of friends and family. Prior to that night, I’d always been rather nonchalant about the whole wedding reception party. We’d thrown parties before – some of which had quite a few people – but none of them could have prepared me for this one, and I did not expect to be as affected as I was.  As Andy and I sat on the terrace looking out over all the people we knew and loved in the world, I realized what we had accomplished, what our love had created.

To be surrounded by so much love and support, to see everyone in our lives together under one roof – it was a profound moment, and I suddenly understood what all the wedding fuss was about. We will never again have an evening like that, but we will hold the memory of it close to our hearts forever.

It wasn’t until we were opening the cards and gifts from friends and family that the greater extent and meaning of what we had done came to full realization. We were two gay men who had dared to marry each other, when it’s not even legal in our home state or most of our country, and then celebrate our union in front of 200 people – doctors, lawyers, police officers, co-workers, a Congressman, and family and friends from across the continent. A few of the letters expressed thanks for furthering marriage equality, something neither Andy nor myself thought much about prior to this.

It was an elegantly-framed poem written by a friend that may have affected us the most. To begin with, anyone who can write a poem is pretty impressive for that reason alone. I’ve always found poetry to be one of the most difficult forms of writing to accomplish well. (Somehow I squeaked through with a ‘B’ in the sole poetry course I took at Brandeis, and that was just analyzing poems by others, not writing anything ourselves. Good thing, because, to put it simply and unpoetically, I suck at it.)

Someone who doesn’t suck at it is our friend Skip Montross, whose virtues I extolled a few weeks ago, and who turns out to be the pretty damn good poet who penned the poem for us. That it was written by a straight guy moved us both – that it was from great friends like Skip and Sherri was even more touching. I knew Skip was a good guy – I didn’t know how good until we read this:

“His and His Towels”

By Skip Montross

We searched both high and low,

For the perfect gift to give.

Something that you’d remember,

For as long as you both shall live.

But they don’t make his and his towels you see,

What you’re doing is kind of new.

Sadly the world isn’t there yet,

They’ve not caught up to you.

Some people are convinced,

That theirs is the only way.

They say marriage is not the right of every man,

Especially those who are gay.

But yet you’re both defiant,

And your love you do not hide.

Brave and boastful you share it,

Full of both beauty and of pride.

Those of us who’ve known you,

Through your long and storied past.

Know that yours is the truest of loves,

The kind to ever last.

And as you drink and dance and laugh,

Take a look at your gathered friends,

For in the face of arrogant ignorance,

They stand with you till’ the end.

But worry not of that this night,

Just bask in joy and glory.

For tonight we choose to celebrate,

The “Andy and Alan” story.

(PS to Skip – This totally makes up for changing into a golf-shirt half-way through the evening against my express wishes. All is forgiven.)

I think people wanted to see The Wedding Coat more than anything else at our reception, so without further ado, here it is.

Extra special thanks again to Marline’s Momma, who made this coat of dupioni silk. She really crafted an amazing work of artistic couture.

All I had to do was add some organza and tulle to finish it up.

(I can’t wait to wear this to the market now that it’s had its wedding premiere.)

This week begins the countdown to our wedding celebration, and more importantly our tenth anniversary together. To commemorate that special day, I’ll be posting a few photos from the past decade, questionable facial hair and all. First up is a shot from one of our early trips to Ogunquit, Maine. It holds a special place in our hearts, as it was the very first vacation we took together.

Below we are decked out for our friend Julie’s wedding party in Amsterdam, NY. It was a hot summer day, but we stopped at my parents for a few quick photos in the backyard before the event.

And finally, for today at least, is this photo taken on an average day in our basement, sitting on a fainting couch that has since been moved into the attic.

It seems that after any project is completed, there are a few days and weeks of idle, directionless sailing, when I’m thrilled and happy the experience was had, but mostly relieved and glad to be back to “normal”. Especially after a year of planning and preparation, where almost every single day was spent doing something for this wedding party (literally – I could itemize for you if you wish), it’s going to be quite a change.

The most important (and for me the most fun) part of this has been the journey, and the anticipation leading up to the event. To that end, it’s been a wonderful year, with a sparkling jewel of a wedding ceremony, and, now, the party to celebrate.

Here is a simple riddle for you: What takes 25 yards of dupioni silk, 80 yards of tulle, and 50 yards of organza to create? If you guessed my wedding reception coat, you’d be correct. I won’t even begin to calculate the hours of labor that went into it between myself and Marline’s Momma, who did most of the sewing. (She is amazing.)

For my part, I created the train and immense tulle underlay (all 80 yards of it). The hundreds of organza ruffles had to be individually hand-sewn by yours truly, but with customary diligence and planning I finished them all a while back, filling four large bags with the whimsical frills before applying them to the train.

The only problem is that it’s not quite conducive to walking, not so much because of the weight but rather the immensity and bulkiness of all that tulle and fabric (it actually requires that I be buckled into it.) Basically, I won’t be wearing it for long. However, it practically stands on its own, so I don’t even need to be inside it for people to enjoy its beauty.

It was, as it always is, a labor of love.

The real work was taken care of starting months ago – a thousand paper cranes, hundreds of organza roses, rows of paper garland, dozens of yards of tulle ruffles, a custom-made Guest Book, and an extensive collection of candles, table toppers, and other party accoutrements – not to mention the tent, the food, the lighting, and the grounds (all of which have been mostly handled and coordinated by my Mom and Dad).

Now, as we enter the final stretch of things, I anticipate a brief moment of relief. I can see the party at the end of the tunnel, and it’s filled with everyone we love most in the world.

Believe it or not, the majority of my life does not make it into this blog. That which does is, luckily for you, edited to protect the world from my sometimes-too-blunt assessments and opinions. I also tend to leave the depressing and bothersome things out of here, because the world has enough of that. Unfortunately, that leaves a cheery image that is often at odds with what is really going on inside my head and in my off-line life. As Madonna sagely noted in Truth or Dare, “It ain’t all hunky-dory.”

That said, I am headed into Boston for a long weekend in which I hope to recharge my drained battery and pony up for the rest of the wedding reception preparations that seem inconceivable and impossible to execute. I’ve done a lot already, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough. It should be old-hat for someone who’s had a zillion parties, but I’ve never had to plan something for over 200 people (I was thinking it might be lower, but who doesn’t show up to a wedding when they’ve RSVP’d affirmatively?)

My Mom is in charge of the food and drinks, and hopefully the tent as well. I am working on the rest – decorations, music, possibly flowers, table toppers, candles, guest book, desserts, and my outfit (which will require hours of more work). Andy still has not ordered his yet, but I honestly can’t worry about one more thing or I will go so crazy that I may miss the party entirely after being carted off to the loony bin.

For now I am taking a deep breath, loading up the Louis, and preparing to enjoy the silence of an empty Boston condo. It will be the first time I’ve been back since our ceremony, and it will be good to remember where it all began.

The first thing most people asked when I returned from our wedding was whether or not I felt any different. I assumed, and professed many times, that I would not feel any such shift  – why should anything change after nine years with Andy? The biggest difference would be a bit more sparkle on my ring finger, and a few new memories of Boston.

I was wrong. The day I got married as one of the happiest of my life. The ceremony, the words, the blessings of family and friends, and the legal document – they all created a moment and a covenant between Andy and me that made a profound difference in my life. It was as if, finally, our relationship was official. Not that it hadn’t been for the previous ten years – this just affirmed it publicly, and though outwardly nothing may have changed, I think it resonated within both of us.

I don’t usually gush about love and stuff – and I’ve always taken the hard line and adhered to Madonna’s warning of, “What’s the point of sitting down and notating your happiness?” There’s something powerful and compelling about the darker side of life, something more interesting and artistic in the sadder aspects of our world – but every now and then there’s a moment of happiness and joy that transcends the cliches and mundane platitudes of Hallmark love, and for the first time I felt that.