From the proposal on the Rim of Crater Lake to the actual Union in Vermont, follow along as we develop plans for our Union Ceremony scheduled for August 2004, celebrating 10 years together.
Three-Ring Binder. Tony already has a three-ring binder started. He's decided to focus on five properties at a time, and will go from there, narrowing it down. If those five don't work then we start over again. Here's where he's starting:
Telling Tony's Mom. Tony's Mother took it much better than my Mom, and moments after I heard Tony mention it to her on the phone tonight, it flashed through my mind that the entire world might know in just a few hours. Which is not how we want the world to learn about our decision.
We’re glad Tony’s Mother might want to tell the world, but we also are concerned that our day could quickly become a freak show. It’s very trendy now days to have a gay couple at your wedding, like the token black couple, it can be a statement about how worldly you are. And we can only imagine how socially progressive it might make one look if they were to mention they were jet-setting off to a Big Gay Wedding.
We want an intimate setting. This is our moment to proclaim to those who have helped shape us into the people we are that we are joining together to become one. We want those who are the most important in this process to be there, by our side, celebrating with us.
We already anticipate tough decisions regarding who to invite and who not to invite. We want family there, but how much family? Some of our co-workers are incredibly valuable in our lives, and others, well, simply co-workers. So, we’re keeping our fingers crossed that by the time we’re ready to announce this to the world, in our own way, there is still an announcement to make.
It's a Union!. After a week of thought, we have decided, right there in EATS over a bowl of pasta, to call it a Union.
Join us, as we celebrate our Union. Announcing the Union of Timothy State and Anthony Dornacher. Tim and Tony have joined in Union.
Marriage just wasn’t working, because we’re not getting married. That’s what men and women do. Weddings conjure up thoughts of ‘until death do us part’, or ‘in sickness and in health’, or ‘for richer or poorer.’ While all those may very well be the case, there is the implication that it’s just two people.
Yet, it takes more than two people together to get through life. It takes many people. We look around and recognize many people who will be with us until death do us part. People we will stand by in sickness and in health. And certainly, people who are important to us regardless of whether or not they are rich or poor. Marriage is just not us.
Commitment Ceremony wasn’t working either. While we like the sound, the word ‘commitment’ simply has too many perceived connotations. Commitment to me might not be the same to someone else. And how commitment is acted out is individual. We are committed to each other; we have been and always will be. If we weren’t already committed to each other, we would not have made it this far.
But Union, on the other hand, we like the connotation of the word. Union: a coupling of parts, a joining together to form a whole. That’s us. And so Union, it will be.
Telling Mom. I couldn’t tell mom. I made Tony do it. I couldn’t bare the possibility of her reaction. What if it was negative – that would simply be too damaging. Not that I was expecting a negative reaction, but I wasn’t sure she’d be bubbling over with enthusiasm. And that’s what I think I wanted her to do. I think I wanted her to scream with joy and excitement. I think I wanted her to pull out the atlas and start micromanaging. But I know this is not the wedding she had dreamed of, in fact, she may never have conceived of. She may have stopped dreaming about any sort of ceremony when she found out I was gay.
So Tony was simply going to have to tell her. But, Mom opened the bottle of wine a bit early, and by the time it would be natural to bring up in a conversation, a second bottle had been opened.
So we waited until the next morning, just moments before we left for the airport, when Tony dropped the bomb over a bowl of cereal. “Oh, that’s nice,” was her response, as she continue paging through the Sunday paper without missing a beat.
Maybe she didn’t hear it. Maybe she was mad the news didn’t come from me. Maybe she was upset I didn’t give her a warning. There is part of me that is ashamed that I couldn’t tell my Mother. But then, I know I’m not the only gay man who can’t tell their mother everything.
