“By the power vested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you married!”

I waited anxiously as the final words came out of the marriage commissioner’s mouth. I looked up at the sky, expecting fire and brimstone to rain down upon us. I wondered how I would deal with life in prison after suddenly transforming into a murderous felon. I feared opening up tomorrow’s paper and seeing that millions of “traditional” marriages had instantly been destroyed when my mom and Ann said two simple words: “I do.”

Mom puts the ring on Ann during their ceremony in New Westminster, B.C.

These were all the things that the religious right promised would happen if same-sex couples were allowed to marry. Turns out they may have been just slightly off. Good thing, too. I don’t know if I could have dealt with my mom being responsible for the downfall of humanity.

Although they obviously believed that gays and lesbians should have the right to marry, Mom and Ann, aka O’mom, had never had a strong desire to get married until one day in February. They just didn’t really feel it was necessary. After all, they had been together for more than 20 years, owned property together, and were married in the eyes of their three children (me, my sister Robin, and Ann’s daughter, Ensley). They even have matching emerald rings. They didn’t feel the need to have their love validated by a government entity.

That changed when San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom began issuing marriage licenses on Feb. 12, 2004. When Mom heard about what was happening, she became very excited and briefly entertained fantasies of a spontaneous rush to City Hall. But Mom has never been known to make major life decisions on a whim. Besides, there was no way they were getting married without all three of the kids there, and they were scattered across the country from San Diego to Philadelphia.

However, the historic events in San Francisco had lit a fire in Mom and O’mom. The more they thought about the idea of marriage, the more intriguing and appealing it became. So she began to look into what it would take to make it all happen. In April the whole family began an exciting series of e-mail correspondences. The first, an April 12 e-mail from Mom to the family, had a subject line that simply said “Vancouver.” They had decided to get married in Canada instead of the United States because they were worried about what would happen to Mom’s retirement benefits if American courts voided same-sex marriage licenses (which is exactly what happened in San Francisco in August). For two weeks e-mails with the subject “RE: Vancouver” flew back and forth discussing possible dates. Then, on April 27, the subject changed to “Vancouver!” Everything was set. After 20 years together, Mom and O’mom would finally be legally married, in Vancouver, British Columbia, on June 24.

All that was left was a meeting with San Jose’s retirement board. Mom worked for the city of San Jose, and was close to retirement. The city had recently passed a law specifically recognizing all marriages, and Mom wanted the retirement board’s assurances that marriage benefits would be extended to same-sex couples. Mom agonized for days about how the meeting would go, but at the meeting, a beautiful thing happened. After a few minutes of debate, someone stood and said, “Well, we’ve got a set of guidelines in place for marriage benefits that say nothing of sexuality. I don’t see what there is to discuss.” And that was that.

Simple but surreal

From the beginning, this trip had a surreal feeling, like a dream sequence that wasn’t really happening. When my wife, Jennifer, and I arrived at Vancouver International Airport on June 23, Mom, O’mom, Robin, and our family friend Marg enthusiastically greeted us. There was already a thick anticipation in the air that everyone could sense, a giddiness that is not normal, even for a family vacation to a beautiful place like Vancouver. Everyone had wide smiles plastered on their faces that would not even begin to fade for days. As more family and friends trickled in over the next 24 hours, the excitement only grew. It seemed that no one could really believe that “the moms” were actually going to get married.

We stayed at the Inn at the Quay on the bank of the Fraser River.

On the morning of June 24, we spent some time sightseeing in Vancouver and nearby New Westminster, where our hotel was located. The first stop was a local insurance office to get the marriage license, which was a bit odd. When I got my marriage license, we went to City Hall in San Francisco, where we were living at the time, not my local Allstate office.

It was refreshing that not a single person we encountered in British Columbia had reacted negatively when they learned that the two people getting married were both female. Only one woman at the hotel sort of hesitated confusedly when Robin answered the “Who’s getting married?” question with “My mom and Ann.” I think she just thought she misheard Robin’s answer.

The ceremony was to begin at 6:30 p.m. on the New Westminster Quay of the Fraser River. (Yes, the river is named after an ancestor of mine named Simon Fraser. I don’t know exactly how he relates, but he’s a famous explorer in Canada, similar to our Lewis and Clark.) We all gathered in the hotel lobby around 6. Our family has never been particularly formal, and everyone was dressed accordingly. Mom and O’mom had matching royal-blue Hawaiian shirts and most everyone else carried on the Hawaiian theme in some way or another. Just before 6:30 we migrated outside to the quay. The wedding party was small, just 15 people total, but that’s how the moms wanted it. It was more intimate that way.

The ceremony was unlike any other I’ve seen, and it was simply beautiful, or maybe beautifully simple. It took place in a little area on the quay between our hotel and a Dutch restaurant called Angelina’s, where we’d had breakfast that morning. It had rained earlier but as we began the ceremony it was just overcast and a bit muggy. There were three large flowerpots and we all gathered in a circle, with the river as a backdrop. Mom, O’mom and we three kids stood in the front, and the marriage commissioner, Laurie, was at the center of the circle.

In a perfect display of the extraordinary level of love that exists in our family, the wedding commenced with each member of the group reading a quote, passage or poem relating to love, companionship, harmony, beauty and life. At least two were passages from “The Little Prince,” one of Mom’s favorite books. Strangers walking by could learn all they needed to know about our family by listening to the passages that were read.

Erik hugs his newlywed mother after the ceremony.

Then they each read their own “vows.” Rather than the standard “in sickness and in health” routine, Mom and O’mom had written intensely personal poetry that expressed their undying love and devotion to one another. There were several times that Mom nearly couldn’t finish a sentence, she got so choked up from the emotions welling inside her.

After the vows, they exchanged rings. This was the only part of the wedding that didn’t go smoothly. Both of their rings were now too small, and they needed hand lotion and quite a bit of effort to get on. But that was just one of those little moments that gives a special event its character.

Once the rings were finally forced onto the appropriate fingers, all that was left was the official declaration from Laurie: “By the power vested in me by the province of British Columbia, I now pronounce you married!” There was by now not a dry eye to be found. Even Ensley’s boyfriend Curtis, a very manly man who looks like Shrek minus the green skin, shed a few tears. How could you not cry at such a perfectly intimate ceremony? I don’t think even Jerry Falwell could have managed to keep from crying.

The moms cut the cake during the reception at the Boathouse.

The “reception” consisted simply of dinner at the Boathouse, the restaurant at the hotel, which has some of the best grilled salmon in the world. A small (yet superb) cake followed, and with that, we wrapped it up. No huge ballroom, no dancing, nor any of the other fluff that goes on at most weddings. It seems to me that big fancy weddings only mean that there’s more that can go wrong. What’s the point of all that, other than “tradition?” This wedding was unorthodox in every possible way, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.