"This is the least gay wedding I've ever been to," my friend Yael remarked as our sandals sunk into the soggy grass at our pal's backyard nuptials on Sunday.
A dapper bow-tied pair was quick to join in.
"Are we the only other gay couple here?" the one in the cobalt blue suit asked.
Two days after the Supreme Court's historic marriage equality decision, my friends' Isaac and Rich's upstate New York wedding was certainly peppered with pride. (That included Yael's multi-colored manicure and a rainbow cake that no one ordered.)
But Isaac and Rich weren't interested in serving as the post-decision poster couple.
All photos courtesy of Hudson Valley wedding photographer Joshua Brown
In fact, as the afternoon, the heartfelt toasts and Rihanna hits wore on, it became more and more clear that SCOTUS' gay marriage decision was less of a headliner at this affair and more of a celebrity making a brief cameo.
This wedding also quickly began to feel like plenty of other weddings with Jewish flavors I've attended, except for one special moment.
When I talked to Isaac's grandfather, a Holocaust survivor and Orthodox Jewish rabbi who taught me Job in high school, he couldn't help but choke up while looking around the white tent that protected us from the all-day showers.
"Everyone's here," he said.
By "everyone" he meant his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Just a few months earlier, Isaac's grandfather -- one of Isaac's most fervent supporters -- wasn't so sure that the other religious family members would feel comfortable showing up.
But show up they did -- in more ways than one.
Isaac's parents walked him down the aisle and his father stepped up to give the seventh and final blessing during the ceremony. Clad in his black velvet yarmulke, Isaac's dad shared how grateful he felt to participate. And how he could've "traveled around the world" and wouldn't have been able to find a better match for his son.
When the school bus, which was hired to transport people from a hotel parking lot to the wedding venue, didn't show up -- another religious relative removed the car seats from his minivan so that he could turn the vehicle into a shuttle for stranded guests.
Isaac's grandfather tearfully read a passage in Hebrew from his memoir, which his wife translated, an excerpt that advised on how to lead a fulfilling life.
Rich's sister talked about how their deceased father was likely feeling prouder than ever, and her two daughters each read an Irish prayer.
Isaac's brother, Joe, an indefatigable advocate, officiated and set the tone for the wedding.
He briefly mentioned Friday's "momentous" decision, but quickly moved on to share how it took 17 years for his cool older brother to notice him and how when he finally did, Isaac opened up his couch to Joe for a period that far exceeded the standard invitation.
Considering each person who spoke (which included this author) was instructed to keep it to a minute or less, we were discerning with our words, and focused on the five years since Isaac and Rich met at jury duty in lower Manhattan, and less so on the two days prior.
After Isaac and Rich each circled one other three times, and broke a glass, in keeping with Jewish tradition, the Pinterest-perfect wedding unfolded like dozens of others I've attended.
They were lifted on chairs and we danced the hora. Guests generously helped themselves to the bloody Mary bar, mac and cheese, an ice cream truck and an assortment of liquor and other treats served in the basement-turned-speakeasy. And we proceeded to belt out the lyrics to "Shout" and "All that Bass" without any shame until the last guest left at 11:30 p.m.
As the festivities continued, they centered on the couple, their supportive family, and friends who trekked from as far as Hong Kong and Israel. And, while it was clear that this celebration would've gone off without a hitch no matter what the Justices had to say, it was heartening to know that they were tired of missing out on the party.
