The Blog of John Patrick Larson

Matrimony marked the month of June.

Two weddings were among the summer’s regularly scheduled, and one extra found its way in to our regiment.  When Taaj (fiance of the proprietor of our AirBNB lodgings) dropped by to welcome us with a bottle of wine I quickly realized I had met a brother from another mother (which is of course colloquial ‘hood for “kindred spirit” or “insta-best friend”).

Maybe it was his above-average lobbying for us to not skip India in the coming year, maybe it was his blessing/prediction that we’ll have an amazing network of folks by halfway through our journey¹, or maybe it was his worldliness in general, owning to a lifetime of travel that gives me something to look both up to and forward to.

Whatever it was, I knew that this was someone with whom I should make time for a man date.  Whether I came to this conclusion before or after he suggested we crash his flash-mob wedding at Red Rocks that coming weekend, I do not recall.  But two days later, after 5 hours over beers, gyros, and hanging in his backyard I figured it quite appropriate to add his and Velina’s nuptials to our weekend agenda.

But first up was elegant Evergreen: the wedding of my sister-in-law at the Lake House on the lake there, nestled up in the gorgeous mountains just west of Denver.  I loved this wedding for the myriad roles I got to play in it.  The first role was that of webmaster, by virtue of putting together their wedding website months earlier.  Second, as husband of the Matron of Honor² I was assured a spot near the bride and groom at the head table.  Third, I got to get my theatrical groove on during the ceremony in a dramatic reading of E. E. Cummings poem “I Carry Your Heart”.  (The night before saw me clicking around on Tracy’s iPhone to take in various readings and interpretations of this poem, that I might transcend the–for me–bewildering punctuation and sentence structure in order to really convey it to the congregation.)  Forth, I got an exception to hang around in the suite where the bride et al were getting hair and makeup done (otherwise a very no-boys-allowed situation, as is oft the case).  “Jester to the bride” is the most fitting title I can put this this role: in Jen’s words I was a welcome presence for making her laugh, making the mood light, serving sandwiches, and generally keeping wedding day stress well at bay.  Fifth was in-house dance machine, responsible for keeping the dance floor as populated as I could muster (which was less than I would’ve liked: being again at altitude after a month away took its toll on my endurance).

As if seeing my sister-in-law throughout such a weather-and-otherwise ideal wedding (and picking up a kickin’ brother-in-law in the process) wasn’t win enough for the day, I got to witness some serious and unbeknownst theatrical stylings in Tracy.  Her delivery of a really well-written and heartfelt toast during the reception was touching indeed, and revealed performance chops in my wife that I didn’t know existed³.

The next day we drove down from the mountains and in to Red Rocks for wedding number 2.  We weren’t about to hurry any familial happenings in Evergreen for this wedding crashing, but fate had aligned pretty well to fit it in at no one’s expense.  With deepest respects to Taaj and Velina, I daresay this gathering fell well short of the sort of military precision in timing that makes a real flash mob event.  It was only by the grace of dress code (i.e. anyone in formal wear then and there) that others recognized us outliers and helped us find our way to the spur-of-the-moment changed location.

After an hour of milling about both bride and groom were converged on the scene, and amid breathtaking scenery and super-fair weather a nice little ceremony commenced.  Most touching and unique to me was the inclusion of Taaj’s 7 and 10-year-old from his first marriage: the bride had vows to them for the role she was taking in their lives, and they in turn got to say “I do” in regards to welcoming her to the family.  So cool.

After a lovely week of house sitting for the bride and groom (of wedding  number 1), Tracy and I flew off to Boston for wedding number 3.  We touched down and got ourselves to the ferry that would whisk us over to Province Town, Cape Cod.  After 90 minutes of choppy seas (complete with a surprise visit to the head by me at about 70 minutes in–I used to love going on rides at places like Six Flags, but seem to have lost some of that tolerance for motion) we were greeted by two of my favorite people: the groom and his best man/sister, my business partners from the Playground days.

They whisked us off the epic estate at which the wedding would be held and close guests would stay for the week leading up to it.  We arrived on Monday which was already one day in to the revelry.  By then preparations were well underway, with terrariums being made up for table decorations and copious limes being juiced to make up batches of the event’s signature cocktail ⁴.

Tuesday was Tracy’s birthday.  It was also the day of her first ever root canal.  Tracy awoke 2 nights prior with searing pain telling her that a lingering issue of tooth sensitivity had come to a head, but it then being a Sunday and with travel on Monday, an immediate visit to the dentist was not an option.  So a Tuesday birthday root canal it was.  With the gracious loaner car from the groom’s dad (these were hot commodities at the estate, mostly reserved for schlepping people like ourselves from the ferry and other assorted logistical errands), we made a 4-hour field trip to the dentist.  It might sound tragic but it wasn’t.  Tracy was a sport and there were even some upsides to the whole thing: you should have seen the way her face lit up that night after swishing cold water around in her mouth post-brushing, pain free for the first time in months.

The week was a mixed bag for Tracy and I: the house atmosphere was akin to one long, extended frat party⁵.  That was fortunately balanced by the fact that attendees were an exceptionally fantastic bunch: seriously great people who collectively added love fest to the atmosphere.  My only real regret is how many of the cool kids smoked.  Easy to handle in smaller quantities, but when clustered I just couldn’t hang.

Much like the tasteful gender-bending done when Tom elected to have his sister represent as his best man,  Tana had a fellow named Adam represent as one of her bridesmaids.  My being a groomsman plus wedding party arranged by height ascending outward equals Adam and I were opposite one another.  Which means I got to walk Adam down the aisle, a degree of hetero-flexibility with which I am completely comfortable.  Made me appreciate the progressively waning homophobia of our generation, unlike in my father’s day I don’t think we scored any reproachful looks from an uptight audience.  And Dad, if you’re up there in heaven reading this, uh, sorry, I guess: no need to fret over my walking a man down the aisle at a wedding, just ask my wife.

By the time our days in the party house drew to an end our party-exhausted selves were ready to move on.  Still it took about 40 minutes to say all of the heartfelt goodbyes, a true testament to the quality of the crowd.  A much nicer ferry ride on a much calmer sea found us back in Boston, for a bonus day and a half of exploring a rather good lookin’ town.

Back here in Denver I’ve been all too keen to getting back into some work doin’.  After playing the tourist and party goer for 9 days I was just famished for a little of the more heady pursuit that is crafting code.

Next up is our week-long assignment to be counselors at a camp for kids with serious illness.  A trio of weddings is remarkable and memorable enough, but this forthcoming experience might well top it.  We hit the road for the Vail area in two hours.

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