Impossible to work

A week or so ago Siara and Brad got married. Siara has been an important fixture in my life since my junior year of high school. While Brad has only been around for the past year or two, he has also become one of the more important people in my life.

The two of them came to visit me in Chicago around Halloween. We went to go see Local Infinities‘ Corpus Delicti while they were here. Brad, being an architect, only wanted to drive around and look at buildings, primarily houses. Siara is my #1 travel buddy and Brad seems to be just as lowkey when away from home. I didn’t know Brad very well last October when the two of them came to stay with me in Chicago for a long weekend, but he got the Raver seal of approval after he walked into my apartment, pulled my copy of Learning Capitalist Culture: Deep in the Heart of Tejas off the shelf and started reading. Anyone who would wilfully start reading a book with such a title is sure to win my heart (and maybe even my mind). I am told that the first time Brad mentioned marriage was in the kitchen of my apartment (which I will be abandoning in the not so distant future in favor of one where I will be able to care for my new puppy). Siara and I have spent so much time together over the years (starting at Booker T.”^a1a”), continuing to Chicago, Dublin, Paris, and even Arkansas) that when she asked me to be a part of her wedding ceremony, I was more than happy to accept.

And what a wonderful ceremony it was. Held at the Dresser Mansion”^a2a”, it was one of the most meaningful weddings I’ve had the pleasure to be present at. A wedding ceremony for humanists. Siara’s Papa Paul (her godfather), who somehow got confused and referred to Siara (which should be pronounced “Sierra”) as “See-are-uh,” acted as minister (five minutes online and a trip to register with the County was all it took). Since we thought that everything else Papa Paul said was heart-felt and meaningful, we forgive him for this incomprehensible mistake.

It was, of course, an unconvential ceremony. After everyone got out to the backyard of the mansion, Papa Paul said a few words and initiated the readings. First, Siara’s longest standing friend Kelly read Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s “Come Lie With Me and Be My Love.” Next up was Ashley (another friend dating back to Booker T.) who recited a few lines from Hamlet. Ashley’s delivery was perhaps the most moving of anyone. Allow me to attempt to quote her from memory:

This is an excerpt from Hamlet’s letter to Ophelia. Hamlet was an important part of our time at Booker T.

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.”^a3a”

And I love you.

Next up was Tami, who read Yeats’ “A Poet to his Beloved” in a somewhat rushed manner. Tami was crying before she went up to read, so the fact that she got through the poem without breaking down was amazing in and of itself. She did great. I wouldn’t change any aspect of it if I could.
I read after Tami. My reading was the poem that follows “A Poet to his Beloved” in The Wind Among The Reeds, “He Gives his Beloved Certain Rhymes.” Being a serious nerd, I made sure to inform everyone of the particular volume the work is taken from and to give a quick contextualization of the poem and its place in Yeats’ oeuvre.”^a4a”.

The final reading was by Parker V. (not to be confused with Parker F. who played guitar and sang during the ceremony, and was great), another Booker T. kid, who stopped off in Tulsa for the wedding between ending a semester at Harvard and heading off to dig in Peru. He read Roethke’s “The Moment.” A more perfect contrast couldn’t have been made. Going from my reading of Yeats’ lofty youthful view of devotion and love to Parker’s reading of Roethke’s physical/spiritual view of love as something almost banal was great.

Papa Paul gave a wonderfully secular speech before (or perhaps after) the two exchanged self-written vows (with Siara laughing halfway through hers, due to the VERY audible sobs of the women seated near me. Thank God for the laughter, else I too would have been sobbing and red-eyed for the photos), and then the party began.

The party was great, the food was great, the people were great (except for this one woman who got really drunk and started hitting on everything with a Y-chromosome. By the end of the evening, I am told she was making love to the trash can. That’s how you know you’ve thrown a successful party). It was all over so quickly. I wish that we could do it all over again, especially considering it was the least stressful wedding I’ve ever been a part of. Then again, once is enough. Besides, how many times can I really catch the bouqet?

At the end of the evening Siara handed me a letter. It made me tear up. With her permission, I am going to end this post with a quote from that letter:

Where to begin? Through some lovely poetry of this small, small world, your soul and mine have found each other and linked in that unifying band of friendship”^a5a”. I am so blessed to have you in my life, and I look forward very much to growing old together, no matter where our individual journeys may carry us.

You have a niche in my heart just to yourself!

As do you Siara, and now there is also a special niche adjacent to it for Brad.

1. Dear Booker T. Washington High School,
   the pride of the great Southwest,
   you’re a symbol of light for many a youth,
   by pointing the way to life’s best.
   You stand as a beacon in Tulsa,
   by teaching the ideals of truth.
   You inspire us with all that is worthy
   and gird us for life’s greatest test.
   Oh God help us ever grow stalwart,
   in body and soul and in mind,
   that the light of dear Booker T. high school,
   may grow brighter and always shine. aaa
2. It’s a nice Italian Villa styled home built into the side of a hill near the Arkansas River and in the shadow of the University Club Tower, which looks like a giant hypodermic needle. It’s one of my favorite houses in the entire city and the contrast with the mid-60s greenish highrise literally a few doors down is perfect. aaa
3. That’s Hamlet 2.2.123-6, for my fellow word nerds who don’t remember things like line numbers. aaa
4. Brad mentioned to Siara later that her friends really are nerds. She reminded him that her circle of friends is a Word Nerd Herd, and that’s that. aaa
5. Siara convinced me that Lawrence Ferlinghetti was a poet worth reading by hand writing copies of individual poems and mailing them to me during college. aaa