Allow me to share with you the mental wrestling I’ve been doing over something as seemingly insignificant as choosing the place to exchange (and celebrate) one’s marital vows.
Chapter One: A Little P.C. for You and Me
Over the last several months as I’ve been researching the how/where/when and best ways to put together a fairly low-key, low-budget-and-yet-not-too tacky wedding and celebration for me and my future husband, (or FH), I’ve come across some good advice on blogs and in magazines about making choices that reflect your values.
And I think, for the most part, I’ve/we’ve done that so far.
For example, it’s ridiculously important to me, for some reason, to not create tons of waste, either financially or materially. I want as little stuff as possible to end up in a landfill or as clutter in the back of closets (tiny picture frame favors, anyone?).
I’m planning to purchase little pop-up recycling bins to place throughout the reception area for anything that will be recyclable.
I’ve chosen items for the ceremony that can be re-purposed: paper flowers; a suit Chris can wear again; asking friends and family to wear what they want, rather than buy matching taffeta dresses.
I even got a little feeling of satisfaction when one of those articles pointed out that, by having the ceremony and reception in the same spot (as we will be), you create less of a carbon footprint. (Never mind that some guests will be flying here, and none of the out-of-town guests will be carpooling. I want Brownie Points for being green!)
The only problem is, 
we’ve picked a venue that comes with…well, shall we say…”interesting” decor. Here’s how it happened.
Chapter 2: The County Courthouse Called…
In the early days of planning, we talked seriously about going to the courthouse, and then inviting close family and friends go out for dinner afterward.
But in my hometown, there are exactly 4 restaurants (and that number includes the Dairy Queen and Hardee’s).
And the number of family and friends to invite after the Signing of Documents started to grow too large for one restaurant. So, then it seemed like I was actually planning a wedding reception.
Which then led to: why don’t we just have one, then?
Well, the first answer is this: I tend to get a wee bit stressed when it comes to orchestrating social events. Instead of having fun, I worry about pleasing everyone, so I end up a wreck. (I know, I need to listen to Ricky Nelson.)
But the larger reason is that FH and I live two hours apart, both of us with solid jobs and careers (and in a bad economy), with no easy answer about how to bring ourselves geographically closer together. After the initial engagement excitement, the idea of planning a wedding seemed almost silly when compared to other priorities.
But the more we talked about courthouse’n it, the more I started to feel like we were being too businesslike. It hit me that—even if we would have a lot going on as a couple, like potentially moving and/or starting new jobs—it was making me sad to think of sealing the deal in such a private, ho-hum way. Meeting Chris has been the greatest stroke of luck I could have ever experienced, and I wanted my closest friends and family to be part of the act of he and I taking this step in our lives.
So the next thing we knew, we were planning an actual wedding.
We could have looked into venues in FH’s area, like the Quad City Botanical Center, for example. Or Vander Veer Park (where we often took walks when we first started dating, and where there’s a perfect setup for outdoor weddings).
And, of course, we could’ve chosen to be married in the beautiful, historic church in my hometown where I was baptized, confirmed, and spent nearly every Sunday of my youth (and where I still consider about half the congregants to be honorary grandparents).
But no. Instead? :
Chapter III: Goin’ to the Chapel…of bucks
We chose a hunting cabin in Forgotonia. One that just happens to be adorned by several startled-looking, deceased deer.
And does that go along with our “values”?
Considering that I shiver at even the sight of the word “gun,” the answer is um, no.
(And, while I do understand the purported benefits of thinning out the deer population in rural Illinois, I’m also such a softie that I think I got Disney-induced PTSD from Bambi.)
When I think about those Ethical Wedding blog suggestions, I tell myself that the tucked-away cabin (and lake next to it) are located on a family farm. The property is owned by close friends of my family, with something like 30 years of shared history between us. I used to babysit for the owners’ now-almost-grown grand kids.
And choosing this spot is a way for us to have an outdoor wedding next to water (which feels really “right” to me) but also have an indoor back-up plan (the cabin) if it rains (did I mention I’m a worrier?).
Still, it’s a choice I’ve been feeling the need to justify lately. Not just because we’re not exactly camo-clad, but also because it’s located in an area that might best be described as “BFE.”
Our out-of-town guests (mostly on FH’s side) will have to drive at least 40 minutes just to get from the venue to their hotels in Macomb or Keokuk.
And our choice has created some logistical challenges, such as: will the DJ booth fit in that corner with the 16-point buck? And while we’re standing under a gazebo saying our vows, if there are local fisherman on the lake, will they realize they’re behind us (and therefor refrain from, say, taking a leak off the side of their boat)?
But more than that, I’ve been asking myself why I wanted for everything to be in my hometown (or 10 miles outside it, actually), in the first place.
We could’ve picked a bright, shiny space in the Quad Cities with lots of amenities (and little to no taxidermy), in a city where there were multiple choices for a rehearsal dinner and after-hours nightcaps, chain hotels… not to mention four-lane highways to get there.
And even though I don’t believe the wedding should be “all about the bride [only]“—I guess I just wanted this day to be about home, for me, on multiple levels. And this location is just a few miles from the farm where I grew up and where my parents still live.
So I guess the answer I’ve landed on is: it’s just me. And it’s just us. Because, like FH and I, it’s casual, authentic and comes with plenty of character.
Epilogue: Ah yes, character.
Early this spring when we drove out to this spot to visit with the owner and ask about renting it for our wedding day, we asked a ton of questions about catering, the DJ set-up, etc. The owner stressed that we could do whatever we wanted. He didn’t even require a deposit.
But as we were leaving—after we’d told him we were pretty sure we wanted it but would let him know—he held up a finger and said, “Wait, now, there is just one thing.”
FH and I looked at each other.
“The only thing I ask,” the owner said, “is that whatever fish you take out of the lake, you pay for.”
Luckily, I don’t plan to do any fishing during or after our nuptials. So at least there is one aspect of the rustic location that I won’t be worried about at all.
Tags: Carthage, childhood, church, column, deer, DIY, essay, essays, green, home, hunting, indie, Lutheranism, marriage, memoir, nature, non-traditional, offbeat, outdoors, receptions, recycling, religion, sustainability, sustainable, tradition, weddings
You just made my day! We can’t wait. I’ll have to make sure Jay knows about paying for the fish…