And speaking of elopements, there was mine....
My marriage ceremony was anything but considered or planned. Truth to be told I was five months pregnant and reluctant to tie a knot. But my Grandmother, whom I adored more than anything in the world, was struggling with the concept of telling her bridge pals that her granddaughter was pregnant and unmarried. Oy, what a scandal.
image shot at Ara Ha
So as a result of her Jewish guilting, I made plans to go off to a private island in the Caribbean and think a little about getting engaged.
Once in this idyllic beach resort, which required a ferry and a private boat to get to, we figured it was as good a place as any to get married. Since we weren't prepared, we had to go over to the mainland and find a wedding officiant to legally marry us. My husband to be was super excited as he liked being married, evidenced by me going to be his third wife. I was not feeling the same way. I was shit scared. I had every reason to be nervous being someone's third, although I should have thought about that before I planned to have a baby!
We took the private launch across to the mainland to get a marriage license and figure out logistics. This was a pretty underwhelming town with few tourism facilities and our only hope of finding a wedding officiant was through the church. We two Jews would need to be married by a Pastor of the Christian Faith. NO big deal. I was only thinking of pleasing my Grandma.
So that night after finalizing the arrangements, we hopped on the private boat back to our island home for the week. There was another group on the boat and in my consistently friendly fashion, I started chatting to them. What ! You are from British Harpers Bazaar coming to do a photo shoot with 20 long white dresses... and the next thing, they were suggesting lending me a dress, allowing their hair and make up person to attend to me, and having the photographer take photos PLUS a video.
I never gave one thought to a wedding vow, a personalized ceremony, or any detail. All the excitement of being featured in British Harpers Bazaar, being shot by a very famous photographer, and wearing a priceless dress took my mind off the seriousness of the moment. I was so caught up in the celebrity feel of the day that I only realized later that my stated occupation on the marriage certificate was HOUSEKEEPER.
On the day of the wedding, I was dressed, coiffed and made up to look as though this was planned over many months. A golf cart drove us to the edge of the water where we stood barefoot framed by the picture perfect sunset. Some resort guests were sitting on the hill watching us while the photo crew snapped pics and the stylist fussed over me. The Priest arrived and said a few words and we were married. Just like that. I have no clue what I vowed to do. I suppose they were the standard vows that one recites in a traditional wedding, but truthfully I was more attuned to looking good enough to be featured in an edition of Harpers Bazaar.
The marriage didn't last more than 12 years and my ex is on wife number four. In fact I just officiated at their wedding renewal ceremony with our five kids present. I made it everything that my own wedding had not been- bespoke vows, speeches from the family, tears and emotions, joy and laughter.
Oh and by the way, my Grandmother was unhappy about the Priestly wedding on the remote island and insisted that we get married by a Rabbi in New York. So off we went to Temple Emanuel on Fifth Ave when I was eight months pregnant, and in an equally lackluster ceremony, we were pronounced married.
Maybe if I decide to marry again, I will hire me to write a beautiful love story for my wedding ceremony and I will create personalized vows which will reflect my emotions and feelings. Here's hoping.