Sunday, October 11, 2009
My stat of the weekend: Of eleven Denison grads (all of us in our mid- to late-twenties) at my friend Lisa's wedding Saturday evening, ten are married.
And I think what I recognized in those seven couples (three were pairs of Denisonians; the other four went outside the college) was a groundedness. Each had their anchor, that person they could nudge, roll their eyes or smile at; that person to arrive with and leave with. Interestingly, all of them are living somewhere different than their hometowns, and most have moved multiple times for school, work, or military. But through new cities, new homes, new jobs, they have had a consistency in partner.
(Me, I may not have that anchor - I'm floating, untethered - but right now I have my hometown. My roots, my family, all in one place.)
It was a lovely wedding. Lisa's family owns a winery, and they closed it for the evening. Lights and gauzy white cloth were draped from the ceiling, and after rings were exchanged and vows were said, one of our friends gave a dramatic reading of Dr. Seuss's, "Oh the Places You'll Go!"
We estimated that there was enough bottles of wine for each guest to have an entire one (though since I had to drive back to the hotel, I only drank a couple glasses throughout the evening); needless to say, this made for a festive atmosphere!