Despite the kindle, nook and ipad, Whitley and I still like to read paper, and we buy three newspapers every day–the Los Angeles Times, The Financial Times and the New York Times–and read even MORE of them on weekends, when we add the weekend Wall Street Journal to the mix.
The last pages in one of the sections of the huge, overstuffed Sunday New York Times contains engagement and wedding announcements. Despite having a long and happy marriage myself, I admit I’m not too interested in these, since I don’t know any of these people. I didn’t read the wedding announcements when we lived in Texas either, since if I knew the people getting married, we would have been invited to the ceremony! And as we sat in the church and the organ music began, I would always see the mother of the bride (and maybe even the groom’s mother) breaking down in emotional "wedding tears"–tears of hope and joy. This can be contagious–I’ve often found myself crying at weddings too.
New York is now one of a handful of states that have legalized gay marriage, which means that some of the announcements in the Times feature photos of two men or two women. While I’m glad this is finally happening, it doesn’t bring "wedding tears" to my eyes. A few weeks ago there was a front page story in the Times with a color photo of a couple of gray-haired men who had been together for many years and were now planning their wedding. Like many big city gay guys, they seemed to know everyone in town: One of them talked about arranging the reception with the owner of a famous, luxurious restaurant who was a close friend. The story made it clear that they were planning every little detail of the wedding and reception, right down to the favors on the tables, just like some breathless young girl thumbing through countless copies of Bride’s Magazine.
When I spotted the story and the photo, I thought, "Look at that: A couple of old silverback Queens are so excited about getting hitched." I started to page through the rest of the paper, when I noticed that my vision was becoming blurry–those familiar "wedding tears" were flooding my formerly dry eyes.