It felt good to both laugh and cry in a matter of four minutes. I knew no one in
this wedding processional, not their names, where they live or their dating history. But I began to care for them, and to wish them well.
I laughed because they are part of my adult children's age group, one that both intrigues and puzzles me. I find myself staunchly defending the Baby Boomers, who embraced dating, marriage and children, in that order, in a way that has not been a given for generation Y. But neither would anyone in my age bracket have had the moxie to pull off a processional like this one. The minister would have forbidden it.
John and I were brazen enough to have a wedding on a hill, in bare feet, in homemade clothes, singing our vows. And we were reprimanded for it. But to break dance? Most of the bridesmaids in the eighties were too high strung to crack a smile. I went to a wedding last month where the entire wedding party performed two songs, with guitars and violin. It was joyful.
There is no getting around the fact that something has been lost. Cohabitation is endemic, and I grieve the loss of marriage as a portal into shared life. But I am beginning to be curious about what has been gained.
