As we gather in Manhattan, I would be remiss not to explain the profound effect that New York City has had on Theresa and Mike. Both attended Loyola College in Maryland but were only slight acquaintances. Afterward, they simultaneously converged on our nation’s capital, Mike living in Georgetown while Theresa’s office overlooked the White House lawn. Despite their proximity, they remained basically nonexistent to one another. A few years passed and both found themselves in Baltimore, at somewhat different crossroads: Theresa was planning her eventual move to New York and Michael had just chosen Baltimore—rather than Manhattan—to reside. Despite this fact, the two became instant friends. They had much in common. Any doubt Mike had about his decision to call Baltimore home was magnified as Theresa described her vision of life in New York City. She so quickly convinced her new friend Mike of New York’s magnificence and immortal life force that he moved—to a studio apartment in Chelsea—several months before Theresa did. E-mails ensued; most littered with one theme: “When are you moving to New York? I can’t wait for you to join me. I have many things to show you.” For each of them, New York has incited personal growth, inspired their creative spirits and provided a foundation of humility, curiosity and compassion on which their relationship is based. So I’d like to welcome you, on behalf of Theresa and Michael, to New York, to this carriage house in Chelsea, as we celebrate their union today. By taking time to reflect on the very personal meaning of their relationship, they come before us to publicly affirm their love; to promise to nurture themselves, each other, and their relationship, and to acknowledge its centrality in their lives.
“Miracles” by Walt Whitman Why, who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods, Or talk by day with the one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with the one I love, Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, The whole referring, yet each distinct, and in its place.