By Gary M. Kramer, The Jewish Exponent
PHILADELPHIA — I covered weddings for the Jewish Exponent for many years, but I never thought I’d have the chance to write about my own nuptials. As a gay man, marriage was not a reality for Mike, my partner of 17 years, and me. That is, until May 20, 2014. The minute same-sex marriage was allowed in Pennsylvania, Mike emailed me with the subject line: WYMM. I responded, “Of course!”

I think we were both too excited by the possibility of getting married to worry about bended knees and other traditional wedding rituals. But I couldn’t help but ask him: “Will I have to tell folks you proposed over email?”

And this is what is kind of great about gay marriage. There is no proper way to do it. Folks are becoming more accepting and supportive of same-sex marriage. Our wedding would be a new, historic experience for our friends and family. We could show them how to put a new spin on some old traditions. On the other hand, while we have rarely been publicly affectionate, suddenly, we were going to be at the center of attention.

Preparing for our wedding was a sprint after a long-distance run. After 17 years together, our plan was to get hitched as quickly as possible. We gave ourselves three weeks to put the ceremony together. This was in part because there was a potential legal development if then-Gov. Tom Corbett challenged the federal court decision. (It didn’t happen, but that didn’t mean we wanted to wait.)

The first hurdle was to get the marriage license. When we entered Philadelphia City Hall on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, we were asked various questions, including — because the computers had not yet been updated for same-sex couples — “Which one of you should I put down as the bride?” The clerk was sheepish and, as Mike looked at his shoes, I manned up and said, “Well, since he proposed…”

So with license in hand, I contacted Rabbi Rebecca Alpert, whom I have known for 15 years, to ask if she would officiate. She agreed, and was available on the day we wanted to marry.

Rabbi Alpert met with us at her home, and we discussed same-sex weddings. She and her partner had been married outside Pennsylvania, but now, thanks to the court’s decision, they were able to enjoy all the benefits of marriage — from home ownership to hospital visitation rights to joint income tax filing and even inheritance laws — in the state in which they lived. There were so many rights heterosexuals may not realize LGBT folks don’t have simply because of marital status.

As we discussed the ceremony, I started getting nervous. Excited, yes — this was a big step I never thought we’d take — but I was also anxious; there were many things to consider and prepare in such a short period of time.

Our rabbi was extremely accommodating with our wishes as she outlined the ceremony. “I could just sign the license right now,” she offered, but we knew we wanted to stand up in front of friends and family. Besides, I could not deny my mother the chance to see her gay son get married.

As we reviewed the elements of the ceremony, we discussed the options. We did not want a chupah (wedding canopy), in part because we decided to hold the ceremony in our apartment and not a synagogue. But I did want to uphold the ritual of breaking the glass. Rabbi Alpert explained that this tradition was sometimes interpreted as the breaking of the hymen. But she elaborated that it also represented something “broken in the world.” There are many interpretations of what that means, of course, but I thought this one fit best: To me, it was the breaking of the law that prohibited same-sex couples from marrying.

Rabbi Alpert also directed us to have the traditional seven blessings (sheva brachot) read at the ceremony. We looked over a sheet she gave us and assigned blessings (in English) to various friends and family members at the ceremony. The idea was to incorporate them in the wedding as a kind of chorus that echoed our sentiments and created a feeling of love and inclusion.

We talked about vows and other elements to the wedding — that we would not walk down an aisle (our apartment wasn’t designed for such a procession) and that we would throw confetti (not rice) to celebrate the union. She helped us plan and think carefully about the traditions and rituals of the marriage ceremony and what it meant to us.

I was grateful for her guidance. Given her appreciation of the Phillies (despite their lousy performance last year), we traded her baseball tickets for her services. It was her idea, and she indicated that she enjoyed our seats.

Our preparations went along swimmingly. My mom helped Mike pick out a suit for the wedding — a gorgeous blue one from Brooks Brothers that brought out his eyes. She also accompanied us to pick out rings at Tiffany since Mike found one he liked on the company’s website. I selected the same one, independently, which only shows how much we think alike. When mom suggested that I wear a bow tie for the occasion, I enthusiastically agreed.

I know my mom felt good to be included in these preparations. She went with me to the restaurant near our apartment where we held the reception in their upstairs room. We selected the menu and wine options, fixed the seating arrangements and made other decisions: no centerpieces were necessary at the tables; no flowers at the ceremony — just boutonnières for the grooms and best people; a Champagne toast rather than a cocktail hour; and no band or DJ (alas, no mother/son dance). We encouraged friends who were hobbyist photographers to take pictures at the wedding and, reluctantly, we agreed there would be no wedding cake.

Part of the strategy of having a low-key wedding was cost. According to the 14 Stories Gay Wedding Institute, 84 percent of gay men and 73 percent of lesbians pay for their weddings themselves. We were part of that majority. But more importantly, we wanted our friends’ and family members’ first same-sex wedding to be an intimate, loving affair, not some wild bacchanal that would scandalize them.

The cozy tone was perfect. By keeping the guest list small — 20 family members and 12 of our closest friends — we were able to make everyone feel comfortable. There were no big bachelor parties and no registry. We asked folks for donations to LGBT charities.

As for the wedding itself, we got hitched without a hitch. Well, except when it came time to break the glass. Mike teased “Don’t miss,” just as I was instructed to step on the lightbulb wrapped in a napkin. (It makes a better “pop” than a glass.) But I did miss it on the first try. I got it the second time around. Talk about performance anxiety.

I also think I said my vows in the thinnest voice possible, I was so nervous. My twin brother served as my best man, and Mike said he was very emotional as I read my vows. Probably best that I didn’t see him — I would have broken down completely.

At the reception, my twin gave a terrific speech, paying back the honor that I had when he got married. But it was our close friend, Jennifer Steinberg, Mike’s best person, who eloquently summed up our thoughts about gay marriage. “You can’t choose your family,” she said, “but you can choose your friends and make them your family.” For her, Mike and I were part of an extended family — given that we spend such quality time together. It was a fitting tribute to same-sex marriage — whatever choices we make going forward will still be our own, but they will now be done with a legal imprimatur.

To read the complete February 2015 Dayton Jewish Observer, click here.