When You Know the Bride

Have you ever been to a place before you were born?  My parents brought me here (though I was not yet a twinkle in their eyes) to love the White Mountains.  The year was 1945.

Tuckerman's Ravine

Hiking, beach and ski excursions (and a few drunken nights of ukulele playing) would ensue creating adventures that are still legend today.

Sandy Beach

1959

Though I grew up in NY, I now realize I was raised here. My formative years were developing an instinctual sense of purpose.  I had no idea that it was happening. So, when my parents bought their land in 1959, though I was only three, I was planting roots. 

The farmhouse has long been sold, but the acreage remains.  I would build a home of my own in 1981, nicknamed The Shire.  It is much more than a house.  It is a place.  It is an experience.  It is magical.

The generational lineage that exists here allows me family. With beautiful synchronicity our parents would forge friendships that we would build on.  Our children would follow and beautifully, we remain deeply connected.

Me, 2nd from right 1963ish

On July 6, 2013 I stood in a backyard where I probably scraped my knee (photo 1963)  It was there that I officiated my friends daughter's wedding.  A family relationship that spans 60+ years.

When you know the bride, being the officiant becomes extraordinary. The intimate family background creates a gathered company with decades of memories and shared celebrations. It was really hard not to cry.

Blessed music created by the beloved uncle

Though the ceremony can pass quickly, the emotions remain.  The gathered company would carry those dearly departed close to heart. We all felt it.  The gratitude was prevalent.  There were few dry eyes.

Mt Chocorua

We commenced in celebration.  We ate cake, we danced, and we told stories.  We watched the sun set on a glorious hot summer night knowing that there would be more to come.

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