Our Alaskan Honeymoon (1999)

Can you see Denali?

This has been a season of celebration. Since we dropped our youngest at college last fall and became “open nesters” (that’s the hip, new term for it) my wife and I have been spending a lot of time on each other. More time talking, more time lingering. More time viewing, too, movies and TV, as well as plays.

We have taken journeys, to the Southwest, to NYC. And to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary, we took a transatlantic crossing on the Queen Mary 2, and spent a few nights in London. We took in some shows there (see: Three Very English Plays) and last week held an open house to celebrate with friends.

We took our first cruise, together and as individuals, for our Honeymoon, in July 1999. When deciding what to and where to go she had first suggested the Caribbean. I said sheepishly that I would prefer not to go somewhere tropical. I had been married once before, visiting Hawaii, and I wanted to avoid any possible reminders. It was stupid, I know, but God bless her, she was disappointed for one moment, and then began conducting a web search Alaskan vacations.

The ship was the Holland America MS Ryndam (now the Celestyal Journey) departing from Vancouver, where we spent a day before boarding. At that time in my life I was manic about seeing shows, especially when I was someplace new. And they had to be unusual, not professional. It was all “research” for my work as the producer of the newly formed Bad Epitaph Theater Company.

That first night, we attended a performance of Moo by Sally Clark at the Vancouver Little Theatre in Heritage Hall. Quotes are from my journal: 

“One of those why-is-life-so-fucked plays. A dysfunctional couple, madly in love, and too proud to actually love.”

I was actually more interested in the space, always looking at spaces, because Bad Epitaph didn’t have one.

“Wild, rough space. Cheap. 60 seats on three sides, very low ceiling … canvas floor over wooden plans which creaked throughout the show.”

MS Ryndam

In my last post, I described the time capsule we had created twenty-five years ago, for which we both wrote letters to our future selves. We read the letters we had made for each other, and then those we ourselves had written. I was surprised at just how much anxiety I held at that time, but this is also reflected in my journal. I kept making random notes about the company. I couldn’t stop thinking about the work. For example:

“CAN WE GET A DEEJAY FOR THE SIN BENEFIT?”

Our sea voyage was along the “Inside Passage” with stops at Ketchikan, Juneau, Sitka, Valdez (where I would return in 2016), Seward, before disembarkation in Anchorage. We’d spend one day in that city, before getting on a train, first to Denali, and finally, to Fairbanks.

What can I say about the cruise. My own notes from that time are shocking, but I wasn’t as mellow as I am today. We were appalled, if not surprised, by the countless attempts to get extract additional cash from us, selling us inscribed things we couldn’t use or didn’t need and so many opportunities to pose with characters like the Wacky Fisherman or to Wacky Prospector.

We found many of our fellow passengers on this journey to be rude. And loud. We chose to spend as much as time as possible together on the bow of the ship, watching for whales, otters, seals and icebergs.

After seven days on board a ship where we were among the youngest passengers (yes, even at the age of thirty) we were thrilled to be on our own for a while and the very first thing we did was to pick up a copy of the free Anchorage Press to see what live theater might be available!

Hiking Taku Glacier

At the turn of this century, Anchorage had a population of about a quarter million people. While they did and do have a thriving arts scene, it is not as large as even Greater Cleveland. We chose to see Libby, a one-woman show adapted from Betty John’s book about her grandmother, Libby Beaman, the first European American woman to live on the Aleutian Islands.

Adapted for the stage by David Edgecombe and featuring Elizabeth Ware as Mrs. Beaman, the piece had toured several states before a performance at the Last Frontier Theatre Conference (now the Valdez Theatre Conference) and a month-long stand at Cyrano’s Off-Center Playhouse in Anchorage, which is where we attended. Several years later I would attend Last Frontier, where a large percentage of artists had experience at Cyrano’s, which is still a thriving endeavor.

“Cyrano’s bookstore was very quirky and I wondered what we were getting into when we stepped into the theater.”

Whitewater rafting in Valdez

Again, anxiety. At that time, I felt every performance I attended was some kind of gamble. If it wasn’t a transformative experience, then it was a wasted opportunity. And a two-act solo performance? That's a commitment. As it turned out I was tremendously moved, Ware’s performance stays with me to this day, and even informed my own monodramatic work.

“A very nice selection of local interest books. At one end a small movie theater – that night ('Libby' playwright & director) Edgecombe … was working on his new one-man show, ‘Syd’ in that theater.

“There was also a functioning coffee bar … A business plan … go in with Red Hen, get a space, Toni manages the bookstore, we share space. Starkweather space?”

Still, thinking about the company, the work, about space. Space was such a big deal for me at that time. We knew where we were to produce Sin, and were in talks about The SantaLand Diaries. But my journal indicates that the idea of producing Lysistrata was still only in the theoretical stages and I cannot remember how many different venues we visited to find a suitable location, before entering into a relationship with Cleveland Public Theater.

"Alaska or Bust"

At Cyrano’s, I bought a copy of Anne Higonnet’s biography of Impressionist painter Berthe Morisot, and that became my reading for the rest of the trip.

“Any shrinking of the will is a bit of substance lost. How wasteful, then, is hesitation! And only consider how immense the final effort necessary to repair so many losses!” - B. Morisot, February 23, 1862

“Amazing how similar our neuroses can be.” - D. Hansen, July 13, 1999

We, as well as a small number of our fellow former shipmates, departed Anchorage by train, headed for Denali National Park and Preserve.

Denali, as you probably know, is the highest mountain on the North American continent. You need special permission (and equipment, of course) to journey too close, as it is part of a protected wildlife reserve. Tourists can take a multiple hour bus trip to get as close as possible and hopefully take in some incredible views, which we did and were treated to remarkable sights on the drive there and back, and the mountain itself. We were fortunate about that last because most days of the year the peak can be obscured by a variety of weather conditions.

After the day-long journey I was delighted that my bride suggested we attend the Alaskan Cabin Night Dinner Theater! All-you-can-eat salmon, ribs, taters and corn, biscuits and berry cobbler while an ensemble of performers told tales of Gold Rush era Alaska and sang standards.

As I wrote in my journal, “My interests were purely anthropological, trust me.” Following the performance we got into a conversation with some of the performers, I was intensely curious as to how someone gets a job like this one. I was currently unemployed. One of the actors heard we were from Cleveland and excitedly told me he was from Akron, and I had no idea how to respond to that.

At last, onto Fairbanks.

“Thursday night we checked into the hotel and, while everyone else was scurrying around, trying to find their luggage or stretching their legs, we swiftly got a hotel shuttle to take us to a movie theater.”

What we had asked was "how close is the nearest movie theater," and the concierge responded, “You mean the movie theater.” 

Offering the shuttle to get there was a kindness, the Goldstream Theatre was a mile and a half away. The photo of Toni in front of the sign at midnight (right) is a reminder not only of how close we were to the Arctic Circle, but also what an outrageous year 1999 was for movies.

We chose South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut. My opinion at the time? “It’s very funny and about a half-hour too long.”

David & Toni's 25th Anniversary Open House

Last night my wife Toni and I held an open house to commemorate our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. After some day-before jitters as to whether or not to postpone due to rain, we were rewarded (after a one-hour start delay) with a beautiful evening outdoors, surrounded by family and friends both old and new.

As I reflected to the crowd, so many of those in attendance were folks we have met along the way, since we were wed in 1999. There were three present who had attended the wedding or reception (many others had sent their regards) other guests we had met over the past quarter-century though work, theater, the local schools, and of course, own children.

The big event was the unsealing of the time capsule, which we had packed with items commemorating the year of our marriage, and our place in it. The capsule (a can, really) itself was a wedding gift, and we filled and closed it on our first anniversary on June 26, 2000. As I had taken it down from a high shelf in our bedroom, I was surprised at how heavy it was. That is because it was filled mostly with paper.

Newspapers, magazines and photocopies. An entire Plain Dealer from our wedding day, front pages from the first day of the new century, a paper copy of The Onion, LIFE Magazine’s Year in Pictures edition, SPIN’s 90 Best Albums of the 90’s. Also, programs from Bad Epitaph plays I had directed, and articles from the Free Times she had written.

Whatever happened to my script from The Drew Carey Show? I put it in the capsule.

Then there were letters, from absent friends, family, some we’ve lost along the way. And yes, the compact disc 1. For which we do have a player and 2. That actually played. Guests were invited to listen in to voices from December 1999, at a dinner party and again at the huge 20th Century Revival Party we held for NYE Y2K. There were surprises, and even a few tears.

It was a beautiful evening. Since our youngest went away to school, my wife and I have been doing more than our usual share of traveling, and most recently celebrating this milestone in our life together. But it was a significant and moving experience to be able to share this love with so many whom we call friends.

On Weddings

This weekend I had the pleasure of officiating the wedding ceremony for my brother-in-law and his bride, in Athens, Ohio.

Before we go any further, I just want to add this: No, thank you for asking, I won't conduct yours.

On the day-of, I received the following FB message:

HI Dave- I am officiating a wedding in November... do you have any recommendations or have you written about your officiant experiences anywhere? I'm really stoked about the one I'm doing, but as my first, feeling a little green. Would love to hear your take on it. 

No, I haven't written about it! And I jotted down a few hastily written suggestions off the top of my head, which I will expand upon here. Maybe someone will get some use out of them.

First, however, some background. Officiating a wedding is no big deal, legally speaking. Any couple (any straight couple, at least today) can get married at city hall, then have a party that has all the trappings of a wedding, which anyone can conduct.

However, if you want someone to marry you, to sign the document and make it legal, they must be an ordained minister, and register with (in this case) the Secretary of State of Ohio. In 2005 Josh and Kelly asked me to wed them, and I found out how it was done.

Founded in 1959, the Universal Life Church believes every individual should be a church unto his/herself. To that end, they will ordain anyone a minister. In the old days, it was mail order - today you can be ordained online. Right now. In moments. Go ahead, do it! It's free, even.

You must cleave to their solitary tenant, Do only that which is right. I have followed this commandment, since 2005, every moment of every day, without fail.

Then I paid for proof of ordination (five bucks) to send to Columbus (another ten bucks) and I have a certificate stating I may perform legal marriage in the state of Ohio.

I have conducted services for a few people. Very close friends, one of my brothers and his wife. I take it seriously. I mean, I am not a noodge, I am also not religious and do not pretend to be. But I had a false-start marriage in the early 90s ... without going into any detail, the service was much too clever. A close inspection (unfortunately, it was videotaped ... thought fortunately mine was accidentally damaged beyond repair) gave several close to me the opportunity to judge the kind of humor we had injected into the ceremony and found it very telling.

These are some tips I gave my friend, which were very helpful to me last Saturday, as my wife and I were even then writing and re-writing the ceremony that afternoon.

1. I interview the couple, together, asking them very basic, personal questions. Why are you getting married? Why are you marrying this person? Why do you love this person? What is the goal? I get them to tell some stories, how did you meet, begin dating, propose, etc. Whatever they say is always golden. I take notes.

2. I ask them what they want to have happen. How many traditional aspects of the wedding ceremony do they want to include? Technically, they do not need to include any of them. None. No one needs to say "I do." They do need to get the marriage certificate, and when I sign it, they are legally married. Everything else is a public declaration of fealty.

3. Vows should definitely be included. I make them write their own vows, but often edit them. I feel free to make them start all over if they feel to generic, or too clever. I once told a groom his vows could be said be virtually anyone, and to search a little deeper for what was important, and what he was promising. His second pass was perfect.

Honesty and sincerity are key. I once dropped the final vow because it was an attempt to gently threaten the other if they weren't faithful. And the fact is, I tried to put in the same kind of vow in my first wedding and our officiant insisted on taking it out.

4. This is not about me. Making references to my connection to them gives the attendants some indication as to why I have been asked to do this, but really -- no stories about me, about my life, about my family or marriage. It's all about their lives and feelings.

5. It is about both of them, not just one of them. Sometimes this is challenging, not with friends like Kelly and Josh, for example, who I know equally, but I needed to know more about my brother's intended, and my brother-in-law's this weekend. I don't want to run the risk of talking too long about just one of them. Then again, I don't want to run the risk of doing much talking at. I'm not a minister, I am a happy interlocutor. I am there to speak for them because they are nervous and emotional and scared.

6. Explain, in one sentence, why we're doing everything we're doing. This is why we're here. This is why we make vows. This is why we exchange rings. It gives a brief, sometimes surprise-filled event structure, and makes everyone -- the couple, but also the crowd -- feel like it all makes sense.

7. Finally, what else do they want? Sometimes, like this weekend, that was about it. My wife included a Libation Ritual, to absent friends and family, which went over very well. We concluded with the kiss, and it was time for a party.

But people like music, or poems, or verses ... but I feel it is best, for a simple ceremony, the know that these are things you choose to include, because they express something and that people are happy to hear. Feeling that they must be included can add a lot of pressure.

Sure, the entire event can be stressful, I feel responsible for someone else's wedding. But I also know that everyone is very excited to be there, about whatever it is I have to say -- most of which was written by or about the wedding couple -- and there really is no way to disappoint.

However, it is because I take this seriously, that I try to politely decline when a kind stranger approaches me following a ceremony (usually before I can reach the bar) to ask to conduct their wedding. They want me to marry them because I appear competent at it, and I am flattered by that. But I only want to participate in a wedding in this manner when, as they say, I have skin in the game.