GREENWOOD, Indiana — It wasn’t the wedding they planned.
Isaac and Azusa — Zeus to her friends — were set to marry in the spring. They would have had a simple ceremony, then a big party in downtown Indianapolis for their many friends.
But then the pandemic came.
They postponed the wedding and the party. They pondered options, then decided, even with the world in turmoil, they wanted to move ahead with their lives.
Their marriage.
So, now we’re standing in the yard of the home in which the groom grew up, in front of a trellis laden with foliage. A creek that runs along the edge of the property babbles and burbles.
I’m the officiant.
I’ve known Isaac for nearly 15 years. He was first my student, then became my good friend.
When I first got to know him, when he was a college freshman, he was almost as lean as a piano string, a quicksilver mix of ideas, energy, and initiatives, always straining to find, do or create that next new thing.
It wasn’t a surprise he grew to be an entrepreneur.
Zeus I got to know later. She’s a petite, almost ethereally graceful woman with a smile that comes and glows with the suddenness and force of a beam of sunlight. There is a dignity to her, a fierce intelligence and will, steel sheathed in silk.
They are a great match.
The ceremony is about to begin.
Zeus approaches down a long walk, wearing a simple, elegant dress as white and lovely as a dream of clouds. Isaac watches, transfixed, as his bride-to-be come toward him.
As she approaches, the lines to an old song, for some reason, float through my head:
You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As times go by
And then:
It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die
The world will always welcome lovers
As times go by
Isaac stands to my left, Zeus to my right. Isaac’s brother and father stand behind him. Zeus’s family lives outside the country and will have to watch her wed via the web.
The couple exchanges heartfelt vows. They place rings on each other’s fingers.
I pronounce them married. Husband kisses wife. Wife kisses husband.
And they step forward as something new, partners who will face and embrace all the world can throw their way.
Evening comes. The sky melts from blue to gray. Crickets hum in chorus in the night air.
We celebrate. We eat dinner, with Zeus and Isaac solicitous that everyone be fed and fed well.
There are toasts and there is laughter.
If this wedding were at another time, Isaac and Zeus would have found themselves surrounded by an army of friends. The crew he went through college with was particularly tight, and they have welcomed Zeus like a sister. They would love to be here.
In some ways, I suppose they are.
After dinner, Isaac and I step away from the group to smoke cigars in celebration.
We talk, about life and the strange places it can take people. As we do, I cannot help but marvel at the way the whippet-like boy I first knew has grown into such a poised and self-assured man.
Then it is time for my wife and me to depart.
We say our farewells and offer our congratulations to the happy couple.
As we leave, I look back and see Isaac, his arm around Zeus, she nestled close to him, as family and friends surround them, almost sheltering them with love.
Boys grow to be men. Girls grow to be women. People find each other, fall in love, and marry.
Even as the world writhes, it will always welcome lovers.
The fundamental things, it turns out, still do apply.
Thank goodness.
John Krull is director of Franklin College’s Pulliam School of Journalism and publisher of TheStatehouseFile.com, a news website powered by Franklin College journalism students. Send comments to [email protected].
