Yesterday I served a very honored and important purpose, I got to be the witness for Gerry's daughter Erica and her husband-to-be Davey. The three of us arrived at the municipal building in the little town they live in, and though the outside of the building was fairly new, the inside still had a feel reminiscent of the Norman Rockwell print "Marriage License." We wandered up to a windowed counter and a lovely woman of Hispanic descent, greeted us warmly. There was a moment's panic when she asked Erica and Davey for two forms of ID, and Erica lamented that she wasn't aware she needed two forms and only brought her license. The kindly woman sensing her dismay, explained that it was alright, she could bring it in when she picked up the final copy. Davey produced his car license and his crane operator's license, and luckily I only had to show my car license. Then the questioning began and it was my job to make sure that the truth was told. Most questions were simple enough and I nodded with their every answer. There was the question of residence, parents names (including mother's maiden) places and dates of birth, parents places of birth, place and date of wedding, social security numbers (though I certainly wouldn't have been able to tell if these were fabricated or not). Gone were the two questions I remember from my own first experience in getting a marriage license, "Are you an imbecile" and " are you under the influence of drugs or alcohol." I remember laughing so hard at those questions at 19 years of age, that it was a wonder they even granted my ex and I a license at all. Instead, the big question was, "are you two related." They both answered no, and I didn't even chuckle, just nodded that the answer was correct. I then got to relay the number of years I have known the couple, and although I couldn't do the math right then and there, my memory flooded back to the first time I met Davey in my backyard as a new friend of my son Dale. He was 7 at the time, and they were playing football. Back then I used to ask Davey to keep an eye on little Dale as they played together down at the brook, as he seemed so responsible for a young boy. I first met Erica when she was 5, when her mom brought her home from kindergarten, she jumped on my lap and told me that I looked like a fairy princes with my long blond hair. That little Erica now calculated the math instantly (+20 for both) and I felt very proud and nostalgic in the presence of these two very special adults. When the woman behind the counter realized I was the step mother, she asked if Erica was a good teenager, relaying the fact that teenagers could be most difficult to raise. Erica was quick to point out that she is now a good adult. I hugged her and replied, "she was a good teenager" and although we had our difficulties, they are far in the past. I added that yes, teenagers could be difficult, but if one remembers their own teen-hood with honesty, there is no use in throwing stones, it is a difficult time. We signed our names and she asked us to swear we were telling the truth. I answered yes, and she repeated, "Do you swear?" In my mind I found the repeat of the question funny, and thought, "shit yea I do!" Instead, being the adult that I am supposed to be, I demurely answered, "yes, I swear it's the truth." The woman then said Erica and Davey made a beautiful couple and she wished them much happiness. I couldn't agree more!
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Witness to a Marriage License
Yesterday I served a very honored and important purpose, I got to be the witness for Gerry's daughter Erica and her husband-to-be Davey. The three of us arrived at the municipal building in the little town they live in, and though the outside of the building was fairly new, the inside still had a feel reminiscent of the Norman Rockwell print "Marriage License." We wandered up to a windowed counter and a lovely woman of Hispanic descent, greeted us warmly. There was a moment's panic when she asked Erica and Davey for two forms of ID, and Erica lamented that she wasn't aware she needed two forms and only brought her license. The kindly woman sensing her dismay, explained that it was alright, she could bring it in when she picked up the final copy. Davey produced his car license and his crane operator's license, and luckily I only had to show my car license. Then the questioning began and it was my job to make sure that the truth was told. Most questions were simple enough and I nodded with their every answer. There was the question of residence, parents names (including mother's maiden) places and dates of birth, parents places of birth, place and date of wedding, social security numbers (though I certainly wouldn't have been able to tell if these were fabricated or not). Gone were the two questions I remember from my own first experience in getting a marriage license, "Are you an imbecile" and " are you under the influence of drugs or alcohol." I remember laughing so hard at those questions at 19 years of age, that it was a wonder they even granted my ex and I a license at all. Instead, the big question was, "are you two related." They both answered no, and I didn't even chuckle, just nodded that the answer was correct. I then got to relay the number of years I have known the couple, and although I couldn't do the math right then and there, my memory flooded back to the first time I met Davey in my backyard as a new friend of my son Dale. He was 7 at the time, and they were playing football. Back then I used to ask Davey to keep an eye on little Dale as they played together down at the brook, as he seemed so responsible for a young boy. I first met Erica when she was 5, when her mom brought her home from kindergarten, she jumped on my lap and told me that I looked like a fairy princes with my long blond hair. That little Erica now calculated the math instantly (+20 for both) and I felt very proud and nostalgic in the presence of these two very special adults. When the woman behind the counter realized I was the step mother, she asked if Erica was a good teenager, relaying the fact that teenagers could be most difficult to raise. Erica was quick to point out that she is now a good adult. I hugged her and replied, "she was a good teenager" and although we had our difficulties, they are far in the past. I added that yes, teenagers could be difficult, but if one remembers their own teen-hood with honesty, there is no use in throwing stones, it is a difficult time. We signed our names and she asked us to swear we were telling the truth. I answered yes, and she repeated, "Do you swear?" In my mind I found the repeat of the question funny, and thought, "shit yea I do!" Instead, being the adult that I am supposed to be, I demurely answered, "yes, I swear it's the truth." The woman then said Erica and Davey made a beautiful couple and she wished them much happiness. I couldn't agree more!
