I’m in New York City for the third time in under nine months, a rare treat for me, who tends to get here about once a year. While we have some musical plans for tomorrow, so far the trip has provided only the backdrop music of this great city – our boutique hotel pipes soft (but real) jazz into the common spaces. The streets offer occasional musicians casting about for stray tourist dollars, and always, everywhere the hum of life in this biggest city in the US provides its own distinct rhythm – a confident rush of humanity.
The reason for our trip was the Central Park wedding of some of our dearest people; yesterday could not have been more special. Life-long friends, extraordinary meals, terrific conversation, and cloudy skies that dared not interrupt – the universe celebrated the life and love of the happy couple. The officiant read from O’Hara and told stories from their past, while we provided the tears the clouds spared us, all from a rustic gazebo perched above the Dene in the Park, which offered natural and skyline views of the type that only a few of our greatest cities can muster.
But weddings do generally involve music. As I woke up this morning and contemplated a post, I realized that this was my first wedding sans music; it was certainly not missed. Yesterday lacked nothing. The poetry, the views, a flower girl, mothers, food to die for, and, most of all, an immersion in the love of the grooms and the love the guests share for them – all the music anyone could request.
Thanks for reading.