I’ve been sorting through my journals.
I can skim one in five minutes. Sadness: skip. Divorce: skip. Dates with fly fishermen and boat owners: skip.
But I am saving the lively pages, because very occasionally I wrote when I was happy. I have found a charming and touching account of our marriage ceremony at the County Courthouse, which I wrote a version of here on our anniversary, July 2.
But now here is the journal entry.
B. and I got married yesterday morning.
We had to do a lot of waiting. Walk up to one window, then wait for the certificate to be typed up. Then up the elevator to the 12th floor and wait to be called into a small courtroom with the other couples.
The couples included a blind middle-aged pair with two little boys; all four held hands when the judge told the couple to hold hands. There was a sweet young couple dressed in traditional wedding outfits, the woman in a pink bridesmaid-type dress and the man in a gray suit.
The Judge said, “You win first prize. You get to have your picture taken with me,” and the bailiff snapped a picture of the three of them.
B. and I were the only couple without rings. We were very nervous, but we kissed sweetly, and then the Judge said, “And you’ve won the second prize. You get the take the Judge on your honeymoon.”
We roared with laughter.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“Niagara Falls,” B. said.
“I haven’t been there in years,” said the Judge.