t the woman I was involved with home with me, I had never actually sat down with my niece and nephews to discuss those relationships. My sister was concerned that her eldest son, particularly, might scorn me, especially at a time when he and his friends tended toward “faggot” jokes. After I expressed how important it was for me to have them attend, she tried to talk with her son about going to this euphemistically entitled “ceremony.” He kept asking why my partner and I were having a “ceremony” and she kept hedging. Finally he just said, “ Mom, Barb’s gay, right?” She said yes, they all came, and things were fine. Her youngest son sat next to me at dinner after the ceremony trying to understand how it worked. “You’re married, right?” “Yes.” “Who’s the husband?” “There is no husband.” “Are you going to have children?” “No.” “So there’s no husband and no children but you’re married, right?” “Yes.” “OK,” and he happily turned back to his dinner.My partner invited her large Catholic family to the ceremony. We all know how the Pope feels about us. Despite that, her mother and most of her siblings, some from several states away, were able to attend. Her twin brother later told us that our ceremony led him to question and resolve the discomfort that had plagued his relationship with his sister for many years.As a law professor leaving town early for the ceremony, I told my two classes that I was getting “married” to my partner, who is a woman. (I actually used “married” because saying I was getting “committed” just didn’t quite have the right ring to it.) The students in one of my classes joined together to buy my partner and myself a silver engraved frame that says “Barb and Peg, Our Wedding.&...
