In the two decades that Tim Ashe and I have been a couple, we’ve attended almost three dozen weddings.
The exact count revealed itself over the weekend while we were driving five and a half hours to No. 35. We made a road trip game of tallying them as we crossed three states to watch our friends Camila Carrillo and Nate D’Aversa get hitched on a beautiful farm near Camden, Maine.
It was easy to remember our first wedding, in 2002, also ag-themed, down in the Burlington Intervale. Tim and I had just started seeing each other, and I was his date for the union of farmer and now-Lt. Gov. Dave Zuckerman and Rachel Nevitt. We sat on hay bales. At one point, Tim whispered, “I hope you don’t want to contra dance.”
I learned later: While I am always eager to cut the rug at such events, he is not.
I love weddings. From my earliest pangs of flower girl envy, I’ve been a sucker for the ceremony. One of the few traditions we have in secular life, the ritual is reassuring. Everyone knows what to expect: The serious part is short and reliably moving, then it’s on to drink, food and dancing.
Within that basic structure, though, are so many variations on the theme. I like to see what couples do with the big day and how it reflects them and the things they care about. Full disclosure: I’ve been married twice, unsuccessfully, and Tim and I are not legally bound. But that hasn’t diminished my enthusiasm for watching others tie the knot.
By the time Tim and I met, my friends were pretty much all paired off; his were just starting to find each other. Not surprisingly, I’ve been his plus-one for two-thirds of the weddings we have shared. He went solo to an additional five. Now the children of my friends are starting to get married. All of which is to say: Recalling every wedding we’ve attended took some brainpower. We quickly gave up on listing them chronologically and focused instead on what set each one apart.
I remembered bawling with appreciation at the vows exchanged under a chuppah in Stockbridge, Mass.; marveling at the professional women’s soccer players who cheered on the bride — their teammate — in Eagles Mere, Pa.; dancing with a Jesuit priest at a wedding on the campus of Seattle University. I couldn’t decide what to wear to that one, so I stashed a second dress in the bushes outside the venue. When one of Tim’s high school friends split a seam mid-reception, I gave her my outfit and changed into the spare.
For surprises, nothing compares to the southern Vermont wedding during which the bride’s identical twin sisters, pro aerial artists, performed a duo act in the barn where dinner was served, above our tables. It was breathtaking.
Most memorable officiant? François Clemmons presiding over a wedding in Warren. Best view from the ceremony? It’s a tie between East Burke and Mendocino, Calif.
Notably, every one of the couples whose commitments we witnessed is still together — with one exception. That friend is happily remarried, and we went to his second wedding, too.
Camila and Nate haven’t been together as long as most we’ve watched wed, but their love and livelihoods have already been tested by adversity. Raised in Colombia, Camila is a talented Vermont vintner who lost most of her grapes in the May deep freeze; the July floods devastated Nate’s woodworking business along the Winooski River in Jonesville.
Nonetheless, their wedding went on in the golden glow of late summer. Guests from three continents toasted their love with Camila’s sparkling wine — technically, a pét-nat — and feasted on the most inventive cuisine I’ve ever seen at a wedding, some of which was cooked right there on an open fire.
In another expression of creativity, Camila and Nate put together a dance mix of Latin and Anglo dance tunes to entertain the multicultural crowd. As music blasted from the rafters, even Tim took a turn on the dance floor.
Love soldiers on.
This article appears in Aug 23-29, 2023.
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