Regular readers of this blog know that I took a nasty fall a few weeks ago, and fractured both my pelvis and my collarbone. I’ve been mending, but the process has been far slower than I’d like. Until last weekend, I had left the house–in my baggiest clothes– only for doctor’s appointments and physical therapy.
Mended or not, however, I wasn’t about to miss the wedding last Saturday of two friends I’ve known for at least 25 years.
I put on real clothes (immensely grateful to find my pants still fit!), and even applied makeup; as I told my husband, I felt almost like a real person again. And off we went–to attend the wedding of two women who’ve been together through good times and bad for the last thirty-eight years, two women who have used their multiple talents, compassion and generosity to contribute to the quality of life in our community.
They were married in a friend’s home, surrounded by dozens of well-wishers from their personal and respective working lives; academic colleagues of the retired history professor, co-workers from the various agencies where the lawyer worked before her own retirement, family members and neighbors.
One of the male relatives who offered a toast put it well: “some people say marriage is about love, some say it’s about companionship, some say it’s about lust–but I say it’s about time.”
When I first met the two of them, many years ago, they were careful to leave people with the impression that they were roommates–clearly worried about losing jobs and/or friends if they were candid about the true nature of their relationship. Little by little, over the years, social attitudes changed and those concerns eased, and last Saturday–after 38 years, no longer young but still devoted–they were finally able to celebrate their lifetime commitment surrounded by family, friends and neighbors who love and appreciate them and wish them well.
It was a lovely wedding.
I will never, ever understand how the obvious joy of being able to affirm a loving relationship hurts–or even remotely affects–anyone else. I will never, ever understand the mean-spirited scolds who want to deny other people–people they don’t even know– the right to publicly celebrate a meaningful connection to someone they love.
And I will never understand why Indiana’s Governor and Legislature are willing to allow–indeed, encourage– one group of Hoosiers to treat another group badly. I will never understand the stubborn refusal to extend equal civil rights to all Indiana citizens, or why these “good Christians” feel entitled to use the law to marginalize and diminish wonderful people simply because they love differently.
On reflection, I think I’m glad I don’t understand them.