Category: Pocket squares

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Merry 9th Anniversary To Us: Part 2

Yes, I am aware this is one of the selfies I already posted in Part 1, which was about our quest for a marriage license in December of 2013. I tried the last couple of days to find our photos from the hasty ceremony that day, but I couldn’t locate them. I’m sure the pictures are safe on a memory card in a phone about 4 phones ago—in a storage bin somewhere in the garage. It’s tangled in a ball of useless old phones and old phone chargers we don’t dare get rid of. It’s where obsolete phones and their accessories go to die. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a few elephants have wandered off to die there, as well. Seriously, we have a little bit of everything in our garage—except my new truck. No room at the truck inn.

Part 1 of this tale took us all the way from Millard County, through Juab County, and eventually to the office of the county clerk in Utah county—where we were given paperwork to fill out to get a marriage license, and after we had filled out the application, we were then told the Utah County Clerk would not be issuing licenses to same-sex couples, despite the law demanding he do so. Maybe it’s just me, but I think we should have been told the county wouldn’t issue us a marriage license BEFORE we were given the paperwork to complete. In addition to the simple illegality and rudeness of the office, we were also in a hurry to get married before a hearing that morning could possibly end in a stay of the marriages. Time was of the essence.

We headed off again on I-15, to try to obtain a license in another county ASAP. Suzanne drove, and I regularly posted updates on Facebook for friends and family—about where we were on our journey and what was going on. If I didn’t update our status in a timely manner, I got texts asking me to. We had a little posse of support behind us, cheering us on. It was pleasantly unexpected. We had no idea how many folks were hoping for us to succeed in our mission. We strategically decided to not even try our luck in Salt Lake City, because we knew the lines of people doing the same thing we were doing were long, long, long. Ain’t nobody got time for that! I mean—we were racing the clock.

We decided to keep going north, into Davis County—which happened to be our home county anyway. We were not particularly hopeful this would end well for us. We showed up at the Davis County Clerk’s office in Farmington with fingers and toes crossed. My friends, I still cannot believe how we were welcomed with open arms by everyone in the office. There were a lot of couples there, and the county staff knew we were all trying to beat the possible stay which could be the outcome of the hearing—in effect, shutting down the issuance of marriage licenses to same-sex couples. I’m sure there were extra workers there, anticipating the crowd. Watching the office workers’ well organized assembly line of various legal forms was like watching one of those Rube Goldberg chain reactions where you push one marble which rolls through tubes, across tiny bridges, under a toy train car, down a miniature water tower, and so on, you finally end up with a contraption-made slice of bread on a plate. The office workers happily helped expedite us through the entire bureaucratic process. They weren’t stuffy or standoffish. They shared in the excitement around them. At the end of the paperwork, out of nowhere, a minister approached us and asked if we wanted her to perform our ceremony. After decades of no-you-can’t-marry-the-person-you-love, a perfect stranger asked if we wanted to get married. Two other strangers near us asked if we needed witnesses to the ceremony, which we did. They were our witnesses and we, in turn, were theirs. Yes, we had made it in time. We were triumphant. Plus, the hearing ended up with a decision in our favor anyway. There was no stay that day.

Y’all are, of course, welcome to your personal beliefs about gay marriage, which might differ from mine. So be it. I certainly would never presume I have the right to tell you what adult you can/cannot marry. But I will say that the support we had from good ol’, church-going Utah folks was incalculable—before and after we got hitched. It is still. Almost to a person, our friends and family members—and the strangers we met that day—were joyous about our ability to finally legally marry. They want our marriage to succeed. I can also report to you that in my nearly 60 years on the planet, the near-palpable glimpses of eternity I have experienced have shown themselves only at rare moments when I have been in Suzanne’s presence. I have never experienced such transcendence without her by my side. If there is a forever, I do not doubt we will be together in it. 💍🎩💝

I regret only one kindness we missed-out on the day we got married. It’s something we read about in the newspaper the next day. Apparently, after we were married and well on our way back to Delta for the holidays, an older Mormon married couple showed up at Farmington where the marriage ceremonies were still going on. The straight couple showed up with hundreds of cupcakes to give to the newlyweds. They said they felt compelled to do it, because everybody should have a piece of cake on their wedding day. I cannot argue with that sentiment. Kindness wins again. ,😉

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Merry 9th Anniversary To Us: Part 1

On our way out of Log Haven, after a glorious meal of celebration and gratitude for each other.
We took a selfie by the coats. Nobody else does that.
Isn’t Suzanne dreamy?
Suzanne opted for the salmon.
I chose the tenderloin with asparagus and mashed potatoes.
A little bit o’ blur doesn’t matter when you are having a splendid time.
Even through the blur, you can see our happiness seeping through.

Log Haven is quickly becoming our go-to restaurant for our anniversary dinner. I sense it’s a tradition in the making. Because we got married so close to Christmas, we think of our Log Haven dinner as sort of a combination Anniversary/Christmas evening in the snowy mountains.

We never intended to get hitched so near Christmas. We never knew when, or if it, would be legal for us to marry at all in our lifetime. And then suddenly, it was legal in Utah. Maybe. On Friday, December 20, 2013, the state of Utah began issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples, based on a U. S. District court’s ruling that day which found barring same-sex couples from legally marrying violates the U. S. Constitution. However, there was to be another court hearing on Monday, December 23rd that could possibly stay or even throw out the ruling. We had to get a marriage license ASAP, just in case the whole possibility to marry went kaput.

The problem was that we were already decking the halls in Delta for the holidays, and it was late on Friday afternoon when we got the news. All the County Clerk’s offices in Utah were closed for the weekend. We knew we had to get a license and get married as early as possible on Monday morning—before the hearing that might possibly shatter our nuptial dreams. But where would we be able to get married? We stayed stuck to the news on tv and on our phones all throughout the weekend. Some County Clerks around Utah had been wishy-washy about issuing marriage licenses to people like us, even if they had been told they had to follow the law.

By Sunday night, we had decided we had a better chance of being able to get a marriage license if we just skipped over the iffy rural counties around us and drove north. That night, we told Mom we wouldn’t be around the next day because we were running off to get married. She was happy for us and would have come with us, but she wasn’t feeling all that well. I told her not to worry about missing out on the momentous event. I told her we thought it be fun to elope anyway. Early Monday morning, we drove out of Millard County, through Juab County, and into Utah County—where we stopped in Provo at the County Clerk’s office. We walked in and told the woman behind the desk why were there. She handed Suzanne and I papers for us to fill out. We thought: so far, so good. As we filled out our documents, other couples came in and hurriedly got to work on their own license paperwork. We had completed our paperwork, when the woman behind the desk was talking to another person and said, “The County Clerk has decided he’s not going to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.” Hold on! Back the truck up! I said, “When we first walked into this office, we told you why we came here. You gave us the proper paperwork to fill out. Why didn’t you tell us we couldn’t get a marriage license when we first walked in?” Duh. Crickets.

This was wrong in a million ways. By this time, the legal hearing that could stay or reverse our shot at getting married was underway. We were running out of time. Fortunately, reporters from The Salt Lake Tribune were there when Suzanne and I walked out, and one asked if we wouldn’t mind talking to them. He listened, took my name, and one of my quotes showed up in The Trib the next morning. I’m sure nobody in Delta thought for a minute that the quote from “Helen Wright from Delta” came from Mom, although when she read it, she said she agreed with me completely. Anyhoo…we had to decide where to drive next to secure a marriage license. Stay tuned.

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It Flies, It Soars, And So Much Of It Is Already Gone

I chose a pine-cone-and-berry Bow Tie o’ the Day, and coupled it with my dogs-and-cats-in-Santa-hats Shirt o’ the Day. Don’t miss the peppermint stick stripes of the Pocket Square o’ the Day. And note the glittery, gold reindeer antlers head band I was able to set atop my Hat o’ the Day: my beloved fedora I’ve had since 1984, just before I graduated from WSU. That makes the hat 38 years old. The fedora is still in astoundingly dapper shape both for being that old, and for having been dragged across the country to live with me in Virginia, then Maryland, and then back to Utah again—where I and my fedora have lived now for 22 consecutive years.

Time does fly. I feel it fly more quickly now that I can see the end of my mortality coming closer. My death used to be statistically so far ahead of me that I rarely considered it. I think about it a little bit more often these days. In fact, I must admit the topic comes into my mind in some way or another almost daily now—especially since my Cranky Hanky Panky has had to have two major surgeries within 3 years. I don’t obsess over what I hope is my far-in-the-future passing, but there are legal and financial things that need to be put into place, so somebody else doesn’t have to figure out what I would have wanted done. And you know all the material things we spend decades of our lives accumulating? A great deal of that has got to go. I don’t want to leave all that stuff for anybody else to have to deal with when I die, so I am—for the most part—done accumulating. And while I am still walking the earth, I’m now working on passing on things I’ve acquired. It’ll probably take me years to accomplish this feat, but I intend to gift my eclectic and eccentric collections to various people who I think will be most likely to take care of my beloved objects with tenderness, just like I have done while I’ve owned them. I have always tried my best to be mindful of my various and sundry stewardships—stewardships of material stuff, of people and animals in my life, of the rights I have as a citizen of the USA, and of all that I’ve learned and know to be true. I have tried to tend to my beliefs and love my neighbors, always. I’m in a good place in my soul, and death, whenever it comes, is nothing I fear at all. 🎀 🎄

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Finally! A Church Bow Tie Again!

I realized I hadn’t posted a Church Bow Tie o’ the Sabbath for quite some time, so yesterday I made sure to gussy up my attire for “watching” church. My nephew, Bishop Travis, was speaking, and I took extra care in choosing the appropriate bow tie for the occasion—as I always do. I decided to wear my black, 3D-printed bow tie. It’s simple and yet sophisticated. Its tips are also very sharp. I would not have worn this to the meeting if I had attended in-person, for fear Gracie would have poked a hole in her hand if she touched it. But I thought it a fitting bow tie for attending church online from my love seat, because the thing about Bishop Travis’ talks is that they—like Bow Tie—always have a point. In fact, his talks are filled with lots of points—each layered like parables. You understand what you are able to, and you chew on what you can’t understand, until you finally understand that too. Like any good parable, it’s nourishing when your spirit hungers, time and again. The larder of a good parable is never empty.

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A Long Weekend? I Thought That’s What We’ve Been Having For The Last 2 Months

Just sittin’ around waiting for the three-day weekend to begin. Got a pocket square which matches Bow Tie o’ the Day, as well as a tank top pocket to hold it.

We don’t have any specific plans set for the weekend yet, but you know I’ll come up with something post-worthy. What I really want to do this weekend is drive to Delta and kidnap Mom from the care center for a couple of hours, and take her up to visit Dad’s grave—where she can pretend to be mad at him, as she demands him to “get the Hellen up from under that awesome headstone.” But breaking Mom out of lockdown isn’t in the cards this year.

I am not a gal who enjoys fighting my way through mobs of folks, even when we aren’t in the midst of a pandemic, so I pay my respects at cemeteries on any day that’s not Memorial Day. It’s too people-y on that day. I have, however, always been a Memorial Day lookie-loo who drives by cemeteries to see the graves all gussied-up, but from a bigly distance. I suppose you could say that doing cemetery drive-by’s is my own tradition of Memorial Day social distancing.

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Another “T-you” To Vets, From The Neckwear

I’ve been working around the house all afternoon, alone and in my pajamas. But that doesn’t mean I can’t wear a flag-ish Bow Tie o’ the Day with a matching puff-style, flag-ish pocket square in my pajama top’s breast pocket while I work. Observing Veterans’ Day for the entire day is a good lesson in patriotism for Skitter to see, even if I’m just in the confines of our own home. I’m determined to raise Skitter right.

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The Wearin’ O’ The Short Pants! Excuse My Bright, White Legs!

Pocket-Square-as-Tie o’ the Day joins Cufflinks o’ the Day to race our running shoes into a warmer season. It’s time to shed long pants and long sleeves. Feel the impending burn! As excited as I am to pull my shorts and tanks out of storage, I always niff, shedding a cloudy tear when I store my long-sleeved shirts. Moving them signifies the end of Cufflinks Season. Sigh. No worries! Plenty o’ etc. will appear here regularly throughout the summer. ‘Links will likely photo-bomb us occasionally, too. YEE-HAW! 👟 📸

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Your Car Could Be Next, Old Coot!

Bigly, wood Bow Tie o’ the Evening was kind enough to accompany me to the Home Owners Association meeting. Bow Tie, Lapel Pin, Cufflinks, and Pocket Square ALL acted as my disguise. Mustaches will do that. A disguise is necessary cuz sometimes at these meetings, neighbors forget to love their neighbors. Especially regarding HOA budgets. Recently, some cars have been harassed. When I asked if the Board had discussed installing cameras, the guy next to me snapped, “Only if YOU pay for them!” Love you more, doofus! 💋