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David Newton and Whitney Leader-Picone were married at 7pm on Sunday August 6th, 2006. That's what the blue marriage certificate we've got says, anyway. And we've just come back from four days honeymooning in Disneyland. Because so much has happened since I last wrote anything here, I'm going to have to make a few separate entries.
The wedding took place in the Brazilian Room in Tilden Park, about ten minutes away from Whitney's home in California. About a hundred people attended - most from Whitney's group of friends and family, but I had my immediate family over as well as neighbours and my family from Germany.
We wrote the ceremony ourselves to combine Jewish, Celtic and Christian traditions. It began with reciting the kiddush in both Hebrew and English, then sipping from a glass of "fruit of the vine" (usually wine, but we used grape juice). Unfortunately Philip, my best man, was a bit overenthusiastic and poured a full glass rather than two mouthfuls, which I had to finish it off myself - and got a round of applause, as everyone thought that I was swallowing wine at a vast rate.
After signing the marriage document (actually a fake ceremonial one, as the real document looks like it was put together on a typewriter in the 1940s), seven friends and family members were called forward to give their blessings. None of us had heard them before, and we completely failed to get through them without bawling our eyes out. With the exception of Philip, that is, who found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. A tissue was passed between the two of us, and had virtually disintegrated by the time the blessings were over.
The most difficult part of the ceremony was the handfasting, where Whitney and I had to exchange rings, then tie our left hands together with only our right hands. We had practised this at home, and managed it much more smoothly than you would expect - prompting more applause from the onlookers. We both forgot the list of vows we had prepared, but improvised an out-of-order set that sounded pretty convincing, and I don't think anyone even noticed. Finally, the glass was stepped on - this had also been practised, because it took me ages to get up the courage to put my foot down on a cheap IKEA wine glass that would instantly shatter, potentially sending shards of glass into feet, into brain, and dead. But the napkin around it held, and prevented any hospital visits.
During the dinner, several members of the family and friends gave speeches. Philip's was probably the best, saying that I shouldn't be let near DDR machines, my brother should be kept away from karaoke machines, and that our marriage would work out fine so long as Whitney wasn't a Mac user. Afterwards, the tables were cleared and we proceeded to teach the Americans how to ceilidh. The ceilidh band (which was surprisingly led by an old Chinese man) came up with a surprise in the form of the Wedding Reel, a dance that had been specifically written for the occasion.
A bouquet and garter toss later (which were caught by the maid of honour and best man, respectively), Whitney and I drove off to spend the night in the immense honeymoon suite in the Rose Garden Inn. Whitney's dad had given us the MGB for the occasion, which I navigated through a cheering crowd of people, round the corner and out of sight just before stalling it disastrously. Three times.
I'm going to put up a photos page on my site as soon as I get them from the wedding photographer and family. And I'll tell everyone what went on at Disneyland later.
The wedding took place in the Brazilian Room in Tilden Park, about ten minutes away from Whitney's home in California. About a hundred people attended - most from Whitney's group of friends and family, but I had my immediate family over as well as neighbours and my family from Germany.
We wrote the ceremony ourselves to combine Jewish, Celtic and Christian traditions. It began with reciting the kiddush in both Hebrew and English, then sipping from a glass of "fruit of the vine" (usually wine, but we used grape juice). Unfortunately Philip, my best man, was a bit overenthusiastic and poured a full glass rather than two mouthfuls, which I had to finish it off myself - and got a round of applause, as everyone thought that I was swallowing wine at a vast rate.
After signing the marriage document (actually a fake ceremonial one, as the real document looks like it was put together on a typewriter in the 1940s), seven friends and family members were called forward to give their blessings. None of us had heard them before, and we completely failed to get through them without bawling our eyes out. With the exception of Philip, that is, who found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. A tissue was passed between the two of us, and had virtually disintegrated by the time the blessings were over.
The most difficult part of the ceremony was the handfasting, where Whitney and I had to exchange rings, then tie our left hands together with only our right hands. We had practised this at home, and managed it much more smoothly than you would expect - prompting more applause from the onlookers. We both forgot the list of vows we had prepared, but improvised an out-of-order set that sounded pretty convincing, and I don't think anyone even noticed. Finally, the glass was stepped on - this had also been practised, because it took me ages to get up the courage to put my foot down on a cheap IKEA wine glass that would instantly shatter, potentially sending shards of glass into feet, into brain, and dead. But the napkin around it held, and prevented any hospital visits.
During the dinner, several members of the family and friends gave speeches. Philip's was probably the best, saying that I shouldn't be let near DDR machines, my brother should be kept away from karaoke machines, and that our marriage would work out fine so long as Whitney wasn't a Mac user. Afterwards, the tables were cleared and we proceeded to teach the Americans how to ceilidh. The ceilidh band (which was surprisingly led by an old Chinese man) came up with a surprise in the form of the Wedding Reel, a dance that had been specifically written for the occasion.
A bouquet and garter toss later (which were caught by the maid of honour and best man, respectively), Whitney and I drove off to spend the night in the immense honeymoon suite in the Rose Garden Inn. Whitney's dad had given us the MGB for the occasion, which I navigated through a cheering crowd of people, round the corner and out of sight just before stalling it disastrously. Three times.
I'm going to put up a photos page on my site as soon as I get them from the wedding photographer and family. And I'll tell everyone what went on at Disneyland later.
