Daughter #2 Marries in Maine

IT WAS QUITE the whirlwind, and such a great time.

So what do I call SO2, D2’s former significant other, now her husband? I never even figured that out for D1 and her husband.

I suppose D1H and now D2H make as much sense as anything…

The happy couple at sunrise, overlooking the Atlantic from the summit of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, on Mount Desert Island.

From October 7 through November 29, the first rays of dawn to land in the U.S. land here at the summit.

It happens again between January 11 through March 6.

Other times of the year, the first light lands in West Quoddy Head, or Mars Hill.

See the reasons why…

First Light of October 13 is why they decided to take the big leap together on Cadillac Mountain.

They did it all their own way. Nixed a wedding photographer, because the ones they interviewed were deeply committed to This is how you’re supposed to do it. They’d want to keep pulling the newlyweds away from their guests to snap every cliché out of Wedding Photography 101.

D2 and D2H asked three of their talented friends to have at it instead, Christo, Mouzhes and Andrew, snap away at will, strive for candid.

The day would be as unconventional as the newlyweds in their daily lives and frequent travels together: high adventure in Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Mexico, Iceland, Ireland…

Next up, Patagonia.

No best man, no maid of honor, no deejay hogging the microphone. No microphone to hog. The couple made their own playlist, one for dinner, one for dancing, and the party was on!

Instead of a wedding cake they had Downeast Maine blueberry pie, perfect after lobster, mussels, corn on the cob, potato, all that good Maine feed.

Lobster bib goes with any style, really… There were something like 90 guests, bibs matched every outfit according to my famed, uh, sartorial… you know… sensibilities.

Here’s the venue the day before, just after a crew set up the tent. This is on the rugged Atlantic coast at Flanders Bay, Aunt Roberta’s waterfront property in Sullivan.

The couple turned down all offers of financial aid from the family, said they weren’t kids anymore, in their 30s they can afford to throw a party for their friends. And with open bar to boot.

No program, nobody was announced upon entering, no toasts, no speeches, no garter, no bouquet toss.

No assigned seating in the big white tent, find someone you like, sit, have a good time.

Such fun! A great day with all the timeworn, stress-inducing rigmarole stripped out of it.

The new bride wore her maternal grandmother’s dress, last worn in 1953.

The 1953 and 2018 brides…

I got to give Miss 2018 away on the mountaintop.

All agreed that this guy did all right for himself.

Does it look chilly? Well it is a Maine mountaintop in October. Only the hardy need apply.

The officiant’s pre-nuptial inspection of the bride’s long underwear…

Nice shots here by the candid shooters… Real life happening right before your eyes.

And that’s that… they’re married!

I didn’t bring a shotgun to my daughter’s wedding, but I did wield one, that’s a fact.

We had geese issues to contend with in the days leading up to the wedding, fiendish field-fouling fowl flying in at will. The groom and I must have scooped up our weight in goose shit. Then I thought, well, this is the country, you can go next door and borrow a shotgun as readily as a cup of sugar.

Walked up the hill, introduced myself to George, the guy who lives next door to Aunt Roberta, he was happy to hand me a .20 gauge.

So here I come, a-creepin’ up real stealthy-like and…

BLAM!

Warning shot. What do you think of that, geese?

Most thought it a good reason to fly off. Except for six hard cases. They sat there looking at me.

I thought, all right… you remaining five will start to catch on in a second. Fished around in my pocket for a shell. As I’m chambering the round for unlucky number six they all get the idea and take wing over the bay.

I camped on the water’s edge the night before the wedding, ’cause I knew they’d come back in the wee hours. Started hearing their racket around 4 a.m., crawled out of my tent and blasted away like Joe Pesci when he heard the screech owl in My Cousin Vinny. Except I had thought to put my pants on, Joe was in his shorts.

Got word today, the geese are back… Roberta snapped this one from her deck.

I close with random pics among the many we’re still sorting through.

No announcement, they just got up and danced… And everything stopped, all eyes upon them.

Have you ever known kids to not have the time of their lives at a wedding?

D2’s new mother-in-law…

Marvin, one of her college roommates and friends for life…

Great-aunts and great-uncle…

Regular aunts and uncle (and her mom, my bride of 42 years)…

Testing the springs on the ’49 truck.

Which I left up in Maine, and need to go get before the snow flies. Or it’ll be in the field until after mud season 2019.

She’s always been the jump-and-the-net-will-appear type…

Left to right: D3, me, my bride, D2, D2H, D1, D1H, little D1D1.

Tony DePaul, October 17, 2018, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA