The Maine Event

A few weeks ago, I traveled back to the homeland for the wedding of two dear friends. I went to high school with both of them, and also college with the groom, and now one of them teaches at the same high school that we all graduated from. So the event was a true homecoming — family and friends from childhood, high school, and college were all in attendance. It was a big day for the happy couple, for obvious reasons — but seeing so many familiar faces was a cause for celebration for me as well.

Allow me to elaborate. Chris and Courtney have been together for 10 years — yep, you read that correctly, a decade — meaning that for most of the time I’ve known them, they’ve been a couple. Chris was one of my brother Ian’s best friends growing up, and they both ended up at Colby College, too. I followed them two years later. Courtney went to Bowdoin College (we try not to hold that against her) and she and Chris burned up the turnpike to maintain their relationship long-distance. During this same time, while I was a little baby freshman at Colby, I met a wonderful boy named Ben…who, as it turns out, was friends with Chris, too.

…And so, six years later, that’s how I found myself getting ready for Chris and Courtney’s wedding, in the same bathroom where I got ready for my high school prom, while my brother Ian and boyfriend Ben waited downstairs. Talk about a (wonderful) collision of different worlds.

Me and my prom, er, wedding date

The ceremony was held at the First Parish Church in Portland, and was truly “Chris and Courtney” from start to finish. The bride and groom descended into the church from opposite staircases, met in the middle, and then walked each other down the aisle. They also read their own vows, inspired by Dr. Seuss ("I will love you if you're poor or rich, I will love you if you're in a ditch..."). One of Courtney's teaching colleagues – and also my high school social studies teacher – officiated the ceremony. Every time I turned around in my pew, I saw another familiar face: neighbors from my childhood block, my second-grade teacher, friends from high school that I hadn’t seen since graduation. As we watched Chris and Courtney say “I do,” I felt nested in a little cradle of family.

Camp Colby strikes again!

After taking the obligatory Colby picture outside the church (okay, fine, there was a Bowdoin one, too...but we far overwhelmed, I mean, outnumbered the other wedding guests) we headed to the ferry to take us to Peaks Island for the reception. It was a beautiful ride and gave me the chance to look back on the mainland where I grew up. The Maine coast is even more breathtaking from the water! 

We're related.

Despite a few minor setbacks (the caterer and DJ both missed the ferry and came two hours late...nothing cold beer and an iPod can’t fix!) the party got underway and was "Maine" through and through. Inscribed shells told the guests where to sit and dinner was a fancified lobster bake, complete with shell-shaped whoopee pies for dessert. We even lucked out with a gorgeous Maine sunset over the water.

Mmm...lobstah

Over the course of the evening, I caught up with friends and family that I hadn’t seen in years (including an hour-long heart-to-heart with Janet Galle, my favorite teacher of all time, and the reason I became an English major), many of whom now live all over the country. Which got me thinking: was it a coincidence that all of these people came together in…Maine, of all places? Sure, weddings typically do bring people together from all over the place, but for one person to have every stage of their lives represented at one party on one island – wasn’t that more than a coincidence?

I’d like to think so. After all, that's what being from a Maine community is all about: maintaining ties, remembering your roots, and rallying together in good times and bad. So as we raised our glasses to Chris and Courtney, I offered a quiet little toast of my own in my head: to the wonderful Maine community that I'm from, both at home and away, gathered that night in celebration on a small patch of land in the Atlantic.