|My never restrained direct link from emotive memories to tear ducts had a full work out on Sunday, my first full day in Melbourne after six cool weeks at Cumbo and hardly a recipe for refocussing on tasks that really do need to be progressed and often wrapped in February.|
I've never really been into weddings to the point of long shaking my head over the preoccupation of so many gays and lesbians with what to others is seen as heteronormative, but Sunday had me at least recognising some of the positives of what they claim to be missing, at least in Australia until we get past current political absurdities.
While unavoidably tinged by concerns for the very different health challenges that brought the couple together, in every other sense it was what a good wedding should be: a chance for the close families and friends networks that were being formally joined to participate in a positive consolidation of crosslinks. A lot of that was already ensured by the years the couple have already spent together, more so the last year of preparations for their big day, though a day which was very much right sized.
Far be it for me to try to commentate in any detail, but it would be remiss not to note that my friend of almost 40 years, business associate and father of the groom nailed it with his speech. At least his son is finding a way to make more productive use of a shared talent for organising and communicating which too many so gifted neglect in pursuit of day-to-day "priorities".
One other key factor which helped make the day was the venue, a place with a purpose which we have previously adapted to another appropriate use with important results for a major community project. The complication that brought for me was that the short walks between there, Essendon Station and Windy Hill evoked a flood of memories of so many key aspects of my younger life, even without the one block detour I avoided to Glenbervie.