love
yesterday i attended the wedding to end all weddings, the loveliest i've ever witnessed. the bride being one of my dearest and most cherished friends made the celebration special to begin with, but everything unfolded peacefully, beautifully, and in a way that made everyone there feel that they had been invited and inducted into a new family. it was such a joy and a privilege to share the day with them.
it was simple, sort of informal with a few traditional touches, and one of the most spiritual, sweet, insightful ceremonies i've ever heard. they had it in a shady botanical garden here in portland on a sunny afternoon, with only 70 or 80 family members and friends gathered closely around them. both bride and groom looked wholly in love and fully present with each other, in addition to looking like a couple of statuesque models in their swish timeless outfits. they are the coolest.
i now have a bit of a crush on portland. there've been the hip neighborhoods, the colorful houses and flower gardens, the endlessly unique young and tattooed folk who are making art and music all over the place, the excellent handmade stuff i've accidentally bought when i didn't realize i was shopping, the coffee, the brunches, the pabst (drank it and liked it), the old and new friends, the locally-owned record stores and bookshops and little cafés. i spent the week doing everything from cutting rebar and drilling holes in concrete to getting my hair lopped off again and bleached all weird to roaming around a monthly nighttime arts and music fest where a picnic table full of people honking a jalopy horn drove down the street. the summer weather has been fantastic and the people here are indie-cute and consistently nice. psst, portland – wanna hold hands? *blush*
it was simple, sort of informal with a few traditional touches, and one of the most spiritual, sweet, insightful ceremonies i've ever heard. they had it in a shady botanical garden here in portland on a sunny afternoon, with only 70 or 80 family members and friends gathered closely around them. both bride and groom looked wholly in love and fully present with each other, in addition to looking like a couple of statuesque models in their swish timeless outfits. they are the coolest.
i now have a bit of a crush on portland. there've been the hip neighborhoods, the colorful houses and flower gardens, the endlessly unique young and tattooed folk who are making art and music all over the place, the excellent handmade stuff i've accidentally bought when i didn't realize i was shopping, the coffee, the brunches, the pabst (drank it and liked it), the old and new friends, the locally-owned record stores and bookshops and little cafés. i spent the week doing everything from cutting rebar and drilling holes in concrete to getting my hair lopped off again and bleached all weird to roaming around a monthly nighttime arts and music fest where a picnic table full of people honking a jalopy horn drove down the street. the summer weather has been fantastic and the people here are indie-cute and consistently nice. psst, portland – wanna hold hands? *blush*
posted by a wandering eye at 11:57 PM
2 Comments:
Spent a couple of my high school summers -- too many years ago -- just south of Portland, working on a farm in a place in the mountains to the east of Molalla where dirt and gravel logging roads turn into single lane asphalt, and where the only sounds in the forest were the echoes of roaring gypo diesel rigs roaring to the mill with a load or returning for another...
My visits were punctuated by weekend day trips to Portland and Salem. Both were different places back then -- unlike the San Francisco of 40 years ago that my parents unsuccessfully sought to protect me from -- I was immediately drawn to Portland's spirit. I did not know Salem's meaning for me until later when I read Kesey. And then, all of Oregon took on a new meaning...
My own daughter went away this summer just before her senior year in high school. I did not send her to Bangkok to protect her but, rather, to expose her. I reckoned that two months in Thailand would open her eyes...
A bit different than a logging road east of Molalla. Or maybe not...
pabst?!?
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