And They Said It Wouldn't Last

Today is my wedding anniversary.

Fang and I have been married for 15 years, although it has to be a most unconventional marriage. I guess if it works and in its way it does, that's all that matters. Reflecting back on that day 5,475 days ago, it's evident that our wedding set the stage for our curious years ahead.

I don't quite know why we actually did get married. As unromantic as it may sound, I recall the real reason was rooted in tax reasons. We'd been living together for nearly five years, perfectly content to continue doing so. We had combined income and had jointly purchased things like real estate. Concerned about the community property issues in California and pressured by a friend from Texas concerned about our mutual inability to commit to marriage, we decided to legalize a union that California would recognize as common law in a year or so anyway.

I'll never be a girl who'll be a bride in layers of taffeta. We didn't want a wedding. We didn't want the church. We didn't want tens of thousands of dollars of expense and the silly hoo haw that went along with it. So we found the best solution for the kind of people we are.

We eloped to New Orleans.

I had a business trip planned there at that time. We flew out a few days early and applied for a license. We made an appointment with a justice of the peace and spent the evening before at Preservation Hall, knocking back a beer and listening to blues. The prescribed day was a Friday (yes, Friday the 13th). We both wore black suits and I wore a dramatic black picture hat that would knock your eye out if you got too close and copious ropes of pearls. In the taxi on the way to the judge's office, the radio blared Stevie Wonder's "Superstition." We considered it a good omen. The judge was late, having imbibed of the grape heavily at a luncheon. His wife and daughter were there (OK, they worked for him) and stood in as our witnesses. And after he pronounced us married, the judge looked at Fang and said, "And now that you've married her, boy, I sure hope she can cook."

Freshly wed, we ventured out into the crowded New Orleans streets. I wanted a wedding picture--something to document the day. We went to Pat O'Brien's, a famous watering hole noted for their potent cocktails and roving photographer. There, we took our official wedding photo while hoisting aloft 19 oz. Hurricanes in commemorative glasses.

And that was about that.

I don't really talk about my marriage on this blog. In truth, I really don't want to and outside of this little slip into sentimentality brought on by what some would consider some sort of milestone, I don't intend to. Some things need to remain a mystery. Let's leave it at that.