The Jersey Chronicles: Good Lovin’ and More Wedding Jubilation

Every once in a while, I find myself in a transcendent place. A place where relationships of love and service mix with celebration and spirit. A place when I feel that I’ve glimpsed the great possibility of heaven.

This weekend I experienced that. Not for a moment, but for a weekend.

Two of my good friends married each other in Princeton, my old hometown, in the backyard we used to play in as kids. He’s of European-American roots and his wife is Ethiopian. They met at university and have started a non-profit in Jersey City called Rising Tide Capital, an organization dedicated to the economic empowerment of low-income communities through entrepreneurship. Throughout the years I’ve known them, they offered me a model of love as individuals, as a couple and in the way that they serve the community around them.

When they announced there wedding date last winter, I felt sure I wouldn’t be there. I planned to spend much of this year in Australia in preparation for Action for Life. I told them immediately that it was unlikely that I would attend, but that I promised to work towards making it possible.

On New Year’s Day, we sat down in a diner in Manhattan and concocted a plan. I would work at Rising Tide Capital and my compensation would be a ticket to their wedding. It seemed a cosmic plan. An RTC project quickly arose in correlation with a break from my work. It would be three weeks, a fair amount of time, we both assessed for the agreed upon compensation.

I rolled up to Jersey in March and worked on their new website. I managed content and worked with Joomla for the first time, stretching my technological savvy in directions previously untapped. For the first time, I got to see their work up close, lived with them for the duration and walked out feeling that we had done something important, productive and satisfying. More importantly we completed the foundation on the bridge of friendship we’ve been building for years.

I bought a ticket for Europe with a return for the weekend before the wedding itself.

You see, amidst the crazy preparations in advance of the wedding, there was a serious debate over music at the wedding. Since I love music and being the only groomsman actually staying in the apartment, the three of us tried to sort out the scene. Over hours of conversation and research we finally realized that the only way to appease the taste of all parties was to hire a DJ. His family wanted some more traditional American wedding music, while her’s wanted more traditional Ethiopian. The engaged wanted world music, but found that the only band they liked, well, they didn’t quite have the “right style” to cut it at the family event. So we agreed, without extreme enthusiasm, that we would go with the DJ.

But it got me thinking. They had mentioned that they wanted to hear some music from our crew of friends, many of whom are very talented musicians. I asked if they would be cool if the crew of us organized something. Well, one song quickly swelled into a set of music. I offered to coordinate the effort. I had a vision of what it could be and I wanted to part of making this wedding an event to remember.

We got to work immediately: recruiting the band, picking the set list, orchestrating the music. Prep was going well (even from my overseas post), but I wasn’t sure if it would all come together. We had one weekend to get it to performance level and despite the talent, I didn’t know if we would be cohesive in time, much less with a set list peppered with music ranging from The Roots and Paul Simon to Oliver Mtukudzi and the Buena Vista Social Club.

Though the music, timing and amount of people presented a challenge, the guys in the band rose to the occasion. Even better, that motion was a reflection of something much greater going on. There emerged a spirit around the wedding. This backyard shindig brought in friends and family from around the world to help in the planning and operation. Whether someone ran shuttle service to the PJ train station, tied endless bows on wedding programs, barbecued while others relaxed, picked up a missing case of water or picked up last minute tuxedo changes, it felt like a whole host of supportive spirits surrounded the bride and groom and their families.

The big day arrived after a fantastic rehearsal dinner. The band gathered to sound check and practice in the morning. The session went well but ended within minutes of disaster as a crushing summer thunderstorm burst onto the scene at 12:15. A drastic 15 minutes followed as rampant fear of a rain-soaked event spread about. Fortunately, the clouds quit and the sun broke though for the remainder of the day.

We took from the rehearsal to change and then quickly, the groomsmen assembled outside the hotel to do the Hiloga, an Ethiopian wedding ritual. It meant waiting till the women got organized, so we waited outside the hotel for 75 minutes in the stifling heat, soaking our tuxes through while we learned the words and dance steps to the vibe. We went to it like our lives depended on it (traditionally, the groomsmen are responsible for winning the bride’s family over) and we delivered. The ceremony buzzed and joy emanated.

It carried straight through the wedding ceremony where love again surrounded the newlyweds. I relished hearing the stories later of how the bridesmaids fought against the pain of 75 minutes of heals on cobblestone to be there for the bride. Similar stories came from the groomsmen who worked through the oppressive heat in bowties and three-piece tuxedos. As the kiss signaled the closing, we left to hit the reception.

Of course, that couldn’t occur without a little drama. Turns out that the guests took some time to arrive at the shindig, so the wedding party cruised the Junction for a good 90 minutes before getting to our destination. Instead of wilting in the delay, the team got proactive and took on an impromptu photo shoot at The Pond, our old high school haunt and now a wedding day activity forever burned in the collective memory.

By the time we arrived the party roared. We ate heaps of Ethiopian food and watched as Uncle Solomon handled the master of ceremonies duty with expert attention and soul. Classic speeches poured from the lips of loved ones and timeless dances made the dance floor drip with emotion and love.

The night cruised ahead and all that lay ahead for me was, finally, the big set. Our good friend Nicole introduced the band and the well-lubricated gathering hopped to the dance floor like a swing dance hall. Without much further notice, Jeff started laying down the acoustic guitar line to Sublime’s “What I Got” and the classic sing-a-long took the night away.

Its hard for me to express what exactly I felt during that moment of my life. At one point mid-song, I leaned over to Sean to tell him how amazing life felt. But when I looked over I couldn’t utter a word. I just started laughing. That wild kind of laugh when all you feel is complete joy tingling through your body and the face just starts behaving completely independently of the brain. Beautifully, Sean was my mirror and his expression encouraged me to plunge into the sea of joy and love that seemed to bounce off us, to the walls, to the people, to the wedded couple and back again. Pure joy. Pure pure joy.

The set finished and the party slowly started to scale back. We rallied for one more Hiloga celebration and carried Alex and Alfa off on our shoulders to their limo. The dancing continued until the police came to kindly inform us that they needed the party to end (and had, in fact, ignored a number of complaints to let us have a tremendous party for many hours). With an outpouring of goodness throughout the night, no one even bothered to argue, we had lived every moment of that wedding.

We celebrated love with love and joy with joy. A beautiful and constant cycle.