As far as I could tell, it was a thoroughly normal wedding. People dabbed tears from the corners of their eyes as the couple walked down the aisle. The brother-in-law made an off-color toast. Family photos were taken in the garden. The icing on the wedding cake was buttercream. Yours truly played the processional and recessional, on guitar: Embraceable You, East of the Sun, At Last and You Are the Sunshine Of My Life.
Stacey Camillo and Alex (Cynthia) Alexander were married on August 14, 2005 in a quiet ceremony in Ogunquit, Maine. Stacy and Alex are, of course, women — although some of us referred to them both as brides, they themselves preferred to be called the gride and the broom.
History is not kind to bigots. A hundred and twenty years ago, Richard H. Colfax and George Fitzhugh wrote ornate, collegiate-sounding essays on the unfitness of the black man to own himself. Rep. Seaborn Roddenberry proposed a Constitutional amendment in 1912 prohibiting the marriage of white people to black people. Roddenberry liked expensive words: his amendment would “exterminate now this debasing, ultrademoralizing, un-American and inhuman leprosy.”
Ultimately, these impressive-sounding men died of natural causes, and society improved.
Within a generation, the political push to “protect marriage” will be backshelved. Every day the conservative rhetoric gets a little softer. Every day the Establishment gets a little older and grayer.
Tell me honestly: do you know anyone under 25 who wants to ban gay marriage?
Tell me honestly: which side of history do you want to be on?
Time is on our side. Literally and figuratively, the movement to delegitimize same-sex marriage is dying, and it’s dying of natural causes. Within a generation, the spirit of humanity will prevail over bigotry and fear.
Here’s to the day when a gay wedding is no longer a political act.
“The American musical is dead,” claims Michael John laChiusa. While you and I may not agree, his taxonomy of faux, parody, real, and jukebox musicals is useful to us writer types.