All the riches
Aug. 13th, 2003 12:27 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosIt was pouring rain when Marian, Brenna and I left home at noon on August 2. But by the time we reached Mount Forest, the small Ontario town where Brenda and Judy live, and where their wedding would be held, the rain had stopped.
The Rainbow Chorus met under the tent at 1:30 so we could practice the two songs we had been asked to sing. A little more than half the choir, about 25 members, managed to attend despite summer plans and the Civic Holiday weekend.
I knew Judy and Brenda had a farm. They had invited my daughters and I to camp overnight if we wanted. I used to drive through Mount Forest. I thought I knew that part of Ontario. I was unprepared for the beauty of the place where they have lived for the past 20 years.
I hadn't been invited to a wedding in at least eight years. They used to depress me. They showed me a fantasy of happiness I never thought I could attain and made me ambiguously aware of my unspeakable loneliness.
Since then I have been deeply in love. I am single now, but having once felt such belonging with another person is somehow enough. Seeing two other people happy makes me happy, not miserable.
The wedding was attended by 155 people. Sarah and Laurie's adopted son, Richie, was the ring-bearer.
At 3 p.m. the sun came out. Brenda and Judy stepped out of the back door of their house in black tuxedos and approached the tent, hand in hand. Who would you expect to give the bride away after a relationship of 30 years?
They had written their own vows. Judy's were variations on traditional ones. Brenda's were entirely original. She is a jolly, friendly woman. Even with promptings from the minister, she could hardly squeeze the words out between laughter and tears.
During the ceremony, a small, brown butterfly danced over their heads, never quite landing anywhere.
These two women are obviously cherished by their families. It was wonderful to see. I have never attended such a joyous wedding. With all the other emotions, one of the proudest moments was when they went to sign the register, legalizing their marriage. Everyone cheered.
While waiting for the reception to start, Marian learned poi from Margie, a woman in the choir who lived in New Zealand for a year.
The reception was held on the lawn beside the stone and wood house Judy and Brenda built themselves with help from friends and family. They sat at a table with Brenda's cousin and Judy's sister overlooking the guests from the edge of their back patio.
The usual speeches were made, without the usual disparaging or off-colour humour. In fact, the speeches were far from usual. Instead of reflecting two separate lives, they recounted the relationship of two young women who met at University of Waterloo.
Judy needed a place to stay. Brenda offered her single bed to share. Judy knew what was happening first. She liked Brenda's motorcycle. That was 30 years ago.
They hid their feelings from their families for many years. When relatives came to stay, Judy would "give up" her bedroom and sleep in Brenda's. Having watched their easy rapport over the past year that I have known them, and now seeing the warm, welcoming home they have built together, it's hard to imagine anyone was ever fooled.
In fact, it's hard to imagine anyone could discount such relationships as somehow less sacred or valuable to society. But some people do. A Western Canadian Catholic Bishop claims Prime Minister Jean Chrétien will burn in hell for not opposing gay marriages.
After the reception, Brenda's sister gave a line dancing lesson on the patio. As darkness fell, the remaining guests drifted down to the lakeshore for a bonfire and singalong. Terrilyn and a couple relatives played guitars. Marian picked up a drum and kept beat to the music. Margie did fire poi in the dark. Brenna came and laid her head on my shoulder.
I was surprised when somebody asked to sing One Tin Soldier. Then something happened that has never happened before: I was the one person in the crowd who remembered all the words. I must have learned it for an assembly in primary school or something.
So the people of the valley sent a message up the hill
asking for the buried treasure, tons of gold for which they'd kill.
Came an answer from the kingdom: "With our brothers we will share
all the secrets of our mountain, all the riches buried there."
When I see how much Brenda and Judy mean to each other and the people like myself whose lives they have touched, I am happily reminded that homophobes simply haven't got a clue.
The Rainbow Chorus met under the tent at 1:30 so we could practice the two songs we had been asked to sing. A little more than half the choir, about 25 members, managed to attend despite summer plans and the Civic Holiday weekend.
I knew Judy and Brenda had a farm. They had invited my daughters and I to camp overnight if we wanted. I used to drive through Mount Forest. I thought I knew that part of Ontario. I was unprepared for the beauty of the place where they have lived for the past 20 years.
I hadn't been invited to a wedding in at least eight years. They used to depress me. They showed me a fantasy of happiness I never thought I could attain and made me ambiguously aware of my unspeakable loneliness.
Since then I have been deeply in love. I am single now, but having once felt such belonging with another person is somehow enough. Seeing two other people happy makes me happy, not miserable.
The wedding was attended by 155 people. Sarah and Laurie's adopted son, Richie, was the ring-bearer.
At 3 p.m. the sun came out. Brenda and Judy stepped out of the back door of their house in black tuxedos and approached the tent, hand in hand. Who would you expect to give the bride away after a relationship of 30 years?
They had written their own vows. Judy's were variations on traditional ones. Brenda's were entirely original. She is a jolly, friendly woman. Even with promptings from the minister, she could hardly squeeze the words out between laughter and tears.
During the ceremony, a small, brown butterfly danced over their heads, never quite landing anywhere.
These two women are obviously cherished by their families. It was wonderful to see. I have never attended such a joyous wedding. With all the other emotions, one of the proudest moments was when they went to sign the register, legalizing their marriage. Everyone cheered.
While waiting for the reception to start, Marian learned poi from Margie, a woman in the choir who lived in New Zealand for a year.
The reception was held on the lawn beside the stone and wood house Judy and Brenda built themselves with help from friends and family. They sat at a table with Brenda's cousin and Judy's sister overlooking the guests from the edge of their back patio.
The usual speeches were made, without the usual disparaging or off-colour humour. In fact, the speeches were far from usual. Instead of reflecting two separate lives, they recounted the relationship of two young women who met at University of Waterloo.
Judy needed a place to stay. Brenda offered her single bed to share. Judy knew what was happening first. She liked Brenda's motorcycle. That was 30 years ago.
They hid their feelings from their families for many years. When relatives came to stay, Judy would "give up" her bedroom and sleep in Brenda's. Having watched their easy rapport over the past year that I have known them, and now seeing the warm, welcoming home they have built together, it's hard to imagine anyone was ever fooled.
In fact, it's hard to imagine anyone could discount such relationships as somehow less sacred or valuable to society. But some people do. A Western Canadian Catholic Bishop claims Prime Minister Jean Chrétien will burn in hell for not opposing gay marriages.
After the reception, Brenda's sister gave a line dancing lesson on the patio. As darkness fell, the remaining guests drifted down to the lakeshore for a bonfire and singalong. Terrilyn and a couple relatives played guitars. Marian picked up a drum and kept beat to the music. Margie did fire poi in the dark. Brenna came and laid her head on my shoulder.
I was surprised when somebody asked to sing One Tin Soldier. Then something happened that has never happened before: I was the one person in the crowd who remembered all the words. I must have learned it for an assembly in primary school or something.
So the people of the valley sent a message up the hill
asking for the buried treasure, tons of gold for which they'd kill.
Came an answer from the kingdom: "With our brothers we will share
all the secrets of our mountain, all the riches buried there."
When I see how much Brenda and Judy mean to each other and the people like myself whose lives they have touched, I am happily reminded that homophobes simply haven't got a clue.
