shotgun anniversary

On this day in 2004, Jean and I took the subway to city hall, rode the elevator to the third floor, and paid $25 to get married. A serious-looking black woman collected our money and performed the ceremony. My sister Brooke witnessed, and gave us our only commemorative item from that day (not counting the marriage certificate): a cylindrical pillow she had embroidered on either end with the date and a tiny shotgun.

We hadn't bought rings yet, and when the justice of the peace told us to exchange them, I fumbled with Jean's hand as if to conceal the fact. my heart raced, I thought for a moment we'd be sent away. Then I heard the words "by the power vested in me..." Tears welled. I kissed my wife and never looked back.

We have another anniversary coming up, on May 29. That's the date our family and friends gathered at a tarnished old mill on the Delaware and witnessed our vows. The Zagnut Cirkus Orchestar played Hungarian folks tunes, and there were burgers and fireworks and kids running around with disposable cameras, wasting the film taking pictures of the ground. A big day. May 29 is rightfully our wedding anniversary. But I like the shotgun version too.

Love you babe.