Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Forever and ever, amen.

Twenty-one years ago today CarolAnn and I stood together in front of a small lake before a crowd of some three hundred seated on hay bales. They were all dressed in Western boots and hats and beaming with love, or at least anticipation.

The minister was perched above us, standing on a small platform on the back end of an ancient buckboard wagon adorned with flowers. We were in white, he was in his black robe wearing a silly looking cowboy hat with feathers sticking out of the brim, a last-minute donation by a member of the congregation.

He was proud of that hat.

The horses and carriage on which we had arrived held their respect.

Under an overcast sky which had threatened to rain on all of us since our arrival a few hours earlier, our minister began the traditional address:

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God to join this man and this woman in the eternal bonds of holy matrimony."

A peacock cried out from the distance: "Help! Help!"

That is truly how peacocks sound and what they seem to be yelling. It cracked everybody up.

I mugged mercilessly.

The ceremony continued. Our sons, ages seven and eleven, dressed in their own little Western tuxedos and cowboy hats, brought forth the rings.

"If any man can show reason why this man and this woman should not be joined in marriage, let him speak now or forever hold his peace!"

My six groomsmen, a rugged gang of cowboys, drew their revolvers and scanned the crowd with a scowl and certain threat. Everybody laughed again.

And then, God chimed in.

The clouds that had covered the proceedings all day parted slightly, dramatically, and an array of golden sunbeams shot through the sky and landed squarely and solely on CarolAnn and me.

I swear, that's just how it happened. The crowd noticed. We heard the whispered exclamations.

The minister glanced up with a hint of awe.

"By the power vested in me by the state of California and the County of Nevada, I hereby pronounce you man and wife."

I kissed her.

Gunshots rang out from my groomsmen, hooting and hollering as the crowd laughed, cheered, and cried.

Twenty one years ago today.

Our love is all grown up. We are grown up. And happily honeymooning, still.

In the words of "our song," (which I talked Randy Travis into singing for us live on KABC radio in Los Angeles...)

"As long as old men sit and talk about the weather,
as long as old women sit and talk about old men.
If you wonder how long I'll be faithful
just listen to how this song ends...
I'm gonna love you forever and ever..,
Forever and ever...
Forever and ever...
Forever and ever...

A-men!"

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