Friends
asked us to post our wedding play from 14-Mar-2015. Here is a copy,
without the cast names.
* * * * *
A Wedding Play
“A
Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A
Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou” --Omar Khayyam
The
Rubaiyat, XII
Ed Happ and Shirley Chen
14 March 2015
The Setting
A
single three-quarters circle of thirty-two chairs faces the sanctuary.
The small statue of St. Francis is center, at the open doors to the
sanctuary. A lectern is center front of the circle, just behind St.
Francis. The scripts are on each chair and the lectern (as are paper
airplanes).
The bride and groom sit center in the circle, facing St. Francis and the lectern. The Justice of the Peace and two priests sit near the lectern, as do the ring and bulb bearers, and son of the groom. The photographer floats about the room. Except for the reserved seats, each guest decides where they want to sit.
First the Welcomer, and then the Narrator stand in front at, or in front of, the lectern. The cast reads from their seats, standing or sitting, whichever they prefer.
Cast of Characters
Welcomer
Narrator
Poet
1
Poet
2
He
1
He
2
She
1
She
2
She
3
He
wrote
She
wrote
Sister
Brother
1
Brother
2
Groom
Bride
JOP
(Justice of the Peace)
Reader
Chaplain
Prelude
Welcomer: [Words
of welcome and introduction from the father of the parish]
You
each have a script. This is a wedding play. And you all have parts to
play, some more than others, but such is the prerogative of authors and
artists. None of you are bystanders. You are each part of this
union, part of our family who has made this couple who they are. So they
want you to be a part of their ceremony, because after all, the play is really
about all of us.
Groom reads:
Almost There
Where does together
begin?
the postcard writing has
the scenes
there is the floating
bar in Paris
the innocent email trail
that followed;
the walk in Muir Woods
stories of Remy and Pino
the nuance of tastes
and romancing the
risotto;
there is the first poem
and its reply
the photographs sent
from Blackberries and
attached;
the first kiss in front
of a carousel
Davenport and the whale
seals
The meal you first
cooked
and the wine I first
opened;
the Skype calls,
long flights and
business trips
to gather in three days
here and there;
moving to Marvin's Beach
for Thanksgiving
finding family at St.
Francis
and solitude in Devil's
Den;
then to Geneva and Nyon
and the castle on the
lake;
the vineyards everywhere
we went;
the start of Chez
Shirley;
And Scott whispering
"do you always eat
like this?"
(…and when I whispered
"yes,"
he replied, "marry
her!)
The family times
of Taipei and
Memphis,
Introducing Jojo to
chocolate
and me to Tu-ma's
dumplings
Mahjong and beginners
luck;
The rolling WhatsApp
comedy
with Diane and Steve.
You catching me in a silly song or voice
recording it for the
little ones,
the flowers in the
garden and on the tables
the wine rack full
the pots simmering on
the stove.
Then the Spanish Steps
in Rome
following the path of
Angels and Demons
the ristorante with the
attitude
and the Florence tears
in front
of the Duomo and the
David.
So here we are
almost in church
and I will promise you
and you will promise me
what already is.
Where does together
begin?
It is here among our
friends,
family;
it is in the words
spoken on the Seine
and in the letters and
the poems;
it begins with a name
an open door,
a chair at the table.
ACT I - Postcards
Scene I – A Floating Bar in Paris
Narrator: The
scene opens in a floating wine bar somewhere on the Seine in Paris. There are
trays of small glasses with a variety of tastings. He is sitting at the bar
sampling the hors d’oeuvres, past his prime, but not feeling it. She walks up
to get a glass of red. She is in a drop-dead but simple black dress. He is
wearing a classic navy blue blazer, with a pair of old olive khakis.
Narrator: They
have met before, earlier in the week, on the Fourth of July; judging students
competing for a high-tech prize. Imagine that.
He 1: Try
the asparagus soup; not the usual heat-it up in the microwave.
She 1: I
don't own a microwave; it’s not really cooking.
He 1: Hmm.
Someone once said you can't have a bad meal in Paris.
She 1: They're
not paying enough attention; the soup is sad. It could be better
Narrator: Sass,
he thinks; I like that…
Scene II – The Email Trail
Narrator: What
began next was a series of summer letters (well, emails actually). She
was aching for some intimacy; he was still learning to speak the
language. Food and humor began the dance. And there were an abundance of
smilies.
She wrote: It
was a pleasure meeting you in Paris ... I had a lot of fun talking to you
about food and wine ….what was the website with all the ratings for
restaurants? What’s your favorite cookbook? :-)
He wrote: The
web site on restaurant ratings is the Zagat Guide ... My favorite
cookbook is "How to Cook Everything: Simple Recipes for Great Food"
by Mark Bittman. Of course, I prefer to open the book and have someone
else perform the magic while I select the perfect wine :-)
Scene III – First Poem
Narrator: The
couple is sitting at a dinner table not far from Paris, years later. A
perfectly done, curved rack of lamb with a light dusting of salt sits between
them.
He 1: Do
you remember the first poem?
She 1: Yes
He 1: It
was “The Curve", the sensual one, yes?
She 1: No;
it was the poem you wrote while you were walking near your beach house
He 1: (not
really sure) Was it?
She 1: (smiling)
Yes, it was
He 1: “The
Curve” was so much better; I'd rather remember that one
She 1: It
came later. I like the one about the monk parrots and doves; I was walking with
you…
Poet 1:
Morning
The monk parrots are
loving me this morning,
heckling from one tree
to the next
as I walk new ground
I never catch up to
them—
they let me know
horizoning with their
call.
I am humbled that I name
them,
hold them in eyes and on
my tongue.
On the beach, seagulls
walk faster
not willing to take
flight yet
while a covey of
mourning doves
bursts up from behind a
seawall
as I jump up.
Two terns fight over a
fish,
a pair of crows choruses
from the beam
of a rough-hewn swing
set—
I, the morning walker
pass through
announced;
I, the morning writer am
in their glassy
eye.
7 Aug 08
Scene IV – Remy and Pino
“The
discovery of a new dish does more for human happiness than the discovery of a
new star.” – Anthelme Brillat Savarin
Narrator: The
food banter soon turned more intimate.
She wrote: When
I bake or cook, the self-dialogue never stops. I am always mixing
flavors, playing with textures and colors. I often start with one thing
in mind and end up with something totally different. For those who have
watched the movie, Ratatouille, I am like Remy. When he created something
by adding different tastes, he saw fireworks in the sky. That's me....
Narrator: Ten
days later…
She wrote: I
still don't know what made me cry. I will quit analyzing it. Maybe
my emotion cup is full. So if crying helps, so be it. People don't
know me anyway. …
Writing
is part of me. Part of my healing process. I am writing down
whatever I am feeling. I am overwhelmed by sadness now. Thanks for
being there even when I am not making sense...
He wrote: Do
write, and take more photos. Write about what you see in the
photos. Pair poems and images. Most of all feel. … and bring
tissues with you when your go to Starbucks; the napkins will kill your skin
:-). BTW …I’m sending you a book…
Narrator: A
few days later…
She wrote: I
am in love with the book…, A Tuscan in the Kitchen. I was reading it till
mid-night and had to convince myself to go to bed. "One more page,
maybe." The night went on like that. Thank you so much for a wonderful
book! … I'll cook the lamb stew…, while you open a bottle of wine to go with
the dish. :-)
He wrote: My
wine cellar is here, so you'll have to bring the viande :-)
She wrote: Is
that an official invitation? :-)
Poet 2:
Ratatouille
I
watch the old movie
and
see you tasting and smelling,
looking
up to the ceiling
of
your imagination
and
wondering,
how
will this come together?
And
I realize you come to life
as
a pan upon the stove
to
whose cold copper bottom
you
add a woman's heat,
smidgeon
of oil,
sprinkling
of herbs,
splash
of coconut milk
spice
with some chili or curry
pinched
between your fingers
and
then shrimp
peeled
one at a time
and
set to dance
with
a flip of the wrist,
a
glimmer in your eye,
the
curve of your lips
so
that even
a
small part of the world
into
which you arrive
with
but a few bags
and
fewer friends
becomes
a feast,
an
"ah,
that
is how
it
looks on the plate;"
Come
taste with me!
11 Aug 10
Scene V – First Kiss
“Happiness is like a kiss…you must share it to enjoy it.” –
Bernard Meltzer
Narrator: She
writes about being upset, so he gets in his American Airlines silver steed and
flies from Berlin to NY to SF
He 1: Do
you remember our first kiss.
She 1: Yes.
It was in baggage claim.
He 1: How
auspicious. ….I knew that was how I would greet you…a kiss and a hug
She 1: I
had to stand on my toes; you were so tall… I knew then.
He 1: I
knew before. Why else fly 7,000 miles? It wasn't for the points.
Scene VI – The Chairs
Our
lives are diminished by the chairs we are asked to take from our table and
enlivened by those we are invited to add.
Narrator: So
began the long-distance relationship, with each looking for an excuse to take
more business trips to one coast or the other. Skype became a best
friend. During one of the calls they talked about the metaphor of the chairs.
Chaplain: I
believe it was a counselor who talked about the parts of oneself that are like
chairs at the table that is yourself.[1] Integration of the self is not only a melding
of the parts, but rather a recognizing of each of the different chairs at the
one table; each is affirmed and has being. The same applies in a
relationship. When more chairs of each self are invited, affirmed and
shared, the relationship is one that grows. When chairs are taken
from the table (or never approach) there can be a type of starving, and a
growing sense that you are not accepted and loved. To share many chairs at the
table of “we” is a source of richness, a true oneness, a wedding.
He wrote: Ah,
now I can ask you: which chair are you dating Friday evening? :-)
She replied: Good.
I will date each one of them.
Poet 1:
Falling
It
is late in the evening;
it
is early in the day.
I am up from the bed
in
which you barely breathe in sleep,
in
which you pant to the point of thirst
I have you as if you are my skin,
as
if I could lose you in an instant
I have loved you since I could tell time,
since
yesterday, since tomorrow
I am lost in a place called home;
I
am found in an ancient house
I am falling into a vast ocean of green,
rising
on clouds red, beneath crowns of white
I know like Moses
I
forget like David
I burn with a hunger for you,
and
am sated by your hunger
I am myself
I
am you
We learn to count to three
12 Oct 08
ACT II – Moving to
Marvin’s Beach and on to Nyon
Scene I – Finding Family at St. Francis
Narrator: After
months of commuting, the two realized the only way to find out whether their
relationship would work was to test it. She told her boss she needed to
see this through despite the risk of failure. She waved goodbye to her
friends and colleagues in California, packed her books and paintings, gave away
all her furniture and moved to Connecticut.
Narrator: Growing
up in the subtropical warmth, New England seemed a bit chilly for her (to
say the least!) The neighbors would still see her in scarf, mittens and a
woolly hat later that spring, when it was in the 60’s!
Narrator: She
had her first snowshoe experience during the St. Francis silent retreat on the
Appalachian Trail, and fell in love with the snow and the people. They biked,
kayaked, and hiked in the area. St. Francis became her adopted
family on the east coast. Foyer dinners became one of the couple’s
favorite events.
Poet 2:
Love Poem III
I
stand in the midst of a church
washed
in the white of late morning sun
and
feel the fire well within me,
snapping
each sense as if kindling—
and
at once I understand the bush burning
undiminished,
with the life of a sun
that
warms even in this narrow shaft of light
streaming
from the clear-story ,
puddling
on the southern sill
of
this house that cannot hold one
who
burns with the wind.
21 Sep 08
Scene II – Old World
“Happiness
is not a station you arrive at but a manner of traveling” – Unknown
Narrator: The
couple’s life took another turn in the spring of 2010. He accepted the
Red Cross job in a phone call at the baggage carousel (again) while they were
visiting her family the first time in Taipei. He commuted between
Connecticut and Geneva for a few months while she was figuring out how to
consolidate their belonging into a 20 foot container. They took the
challenge to start a new life in Switzerland.
Narrator: Their
life in the French speaking region was simpler. They brought no cars with
them, and used trains and buses instead. They took spontaneous trips on
weekends, and long walks along the lake and in local forests, especially to the
dairy farm (to get fresh yogurt and flowers). They explored the old world
together.
Poet 1:
Filling in the blanks
I decide to take the bus
to a part of the city
I have not yet seen,
where a restaurant I
found
was hidden
at the elbow of a narrow
street.
Afterwards
with a full stomach
and the lilt of the Cote
du Rhone,
I decide to walk;
each corner I turn
and street I cross
hold a surprise,
and I imagine you
stopping to loom in the
windows
of a shop here
and read the menu in a
cafe there,
while I turn the see the
mountains
in the distance
and the Jet d'Eau
almost frozen as a spear
up over the buildings
on the lake shore
where the Rhone begins,
and all I want to say is
look!
I want to see you take
it in
a door at a time
and all at once.
And I realize I'm
filling
in the blanks
waiting for you
to complete my sentences
as I imagine you will.
22 Jul 10
Geneva
Scene III – Mom, Three Kids and WhatsApp
“Life
is like a ten-speed bicycle. Most of us have gears we never use.” – Charles
Schulz
Narrator: One
thing about living overseas is the constant aching for family and close
friends. The modern life and the work schedule make it much harder to see
loved ones face to face. Since the couple comes from the technology
industry, they rely on the convenience of the Internet to stay connected.
She exchanges food photos and recipes with her three sisters in Taipei and has
a way to “talk” in Chinese. He is using WhatsApp to stay in touch with
his brother and sister.
Narrator: Not
too long ago, the three siblings were trying to deal with their Mother going to
the hospital for some lung tests. It’s serious, but their training in
dining room comedy bodes them well for coping. They've set up a WhatsApp
group on their phones and have been texting since the fall. Diane has
flown to Florida to be with Mom. Steve is in Memphis, and Ed is in
Geneva.
Sister texts: Dr.
said he will take samples from right & left lung; mostly right
Brother 1 texts: Upadhyay?
Brother 2 texts: Up
whose ?
Sister texts: Yes
--Dr. U-- Nurse said it's a flexible tube with holes in it & a camera on
the end. They will do a wash of the lung which will collect fluids &
cells ...then small brushes & graspers come thru the holes to get tissue
for pathology. Internet said there is also a light that lights green for
healthy cells & red/brown for unhealthy ones
Brother 2 texts: Good
grief ...sounds like a car wash
Sister texts: Aaaaaaand
she had to take out her teeth & handed me a container with them to
hold! You guys owe me BIG time!!!
Brother 1 texts: Yuk!
I'm glad it's you and not me!!!
Sister texts: Yeah!!!
One of the high points of the day!!
Brother 2 texts: Lovely…
Paint a few teeth with a sharpie
Sister texts: I'm
not touching them!!
Brother 1 texts: Oh.
I think the sharpie is genius
The conversation went on about the details of the procedure… a few minutes later….
Brother 1 texts: When
can you see her?
Sister texts: They
will come out & get me when I can go back. Meanwhile I'm guarding the teeth
Brother 2 texts: Ask
the nurse for that sharpie...just one tooth.
Sister texts: I'll
save that for YOUR visit!!
Brother 1 texts: That
is such a visual ... you sitting there guarding the teeth.
ACT III – The Wine and
Food Just Get Better
“Wine
opens the heart / it warms the shy poet hidden in the cage of the ribs. / it
melts the wax in the ears that music may be heard, / it takes the terror from
the tongue / that truth may be said, / or what rhymes marvelously with the
truth.” --Christopher Morley
Poet 2:
Savoring
Long
after the last swallow
the
taste of a good wine lingers--
its
richness but a trace on my palette,
its
warmth unfolding in my throat and chest;
this
is the slow time, the moment
of
remembering when I brought the glass
to my nose and inhaled,
to my lips to feel the slide of its glycerin,
to my tongue to taste the passion of the vintner,
to my ear to listen for the long sounds of savoring,
to my heart that knows with each sip
I
have taken you up in my hands,
tilted
my face to the sun,
and
drunk you into me.
22 Sep 08
Scene I - The Spanish Steps
Narrator: The
couple flew to Rome last year as a joint birthday celebration. They
rented an apartment from an Italian architect, and they explored the ancient
town. They saw Michelangelo’s paintings on the Sistine Chapel ceiling,
watched a sunset at the Colosseum, and dined like Roman’s. On the 5th day of
their vacation without itinerary, he began the morning acting a bit strange.
He 2: Let’s
find a romantic place to visit today.
Narrator: He
pulled up his iPad and began searching while he was having his breakfast
coffee.
She 2: Okay.
Any place is romantic in Rome. Just pick one.
Narrator: An
hour later, he still hasn't decided what the most romantic place is. She
didn't understand why he was being so fussy (Totally clueless). Something
was up…
Poet 1:
Proposal
Here on these steps
after
all the steps
 |
| The Spanish Steps, Rome |
we
have taken together,
this
is the most important,
to
ask you to step with me;
so
here I ask
in
the city of amore
to
make a new beginning
beyond
all earthly steps,
as
my wife;
there's
a trail that winds thru the hills
that
we've not taken yet,
where
there's a feast waiting;
take
my hand
let's
together step
and
make this way our own.
12 May 14
Based on the a cappella
version, composed from
the heart on the Spanish
Steps
Scene II – A Wedding
Narrator: All
that goes before comes together in this room. It is all here, at this
“table” and in these chairs
Groom Reads:
Invitation
“Life
is luck, make it.” – Mother Teresa
How did we find each other?
Someone
else was supposed to go to Paris;
we
were the last minute substitutes
from
different sides of the country.
We
only shared a few words
and
left with business cards.
It
was through the writing
about
work, food, curiosity, laughter,
tears and
poetry,
we
fell in love.
It
took us by surprise.
So
was it luck or fate,
or
about pulling our chairs up to the table
and
finding we were invited all along?
* * * * *
The Wedding
Narrator: So
here we are, almost in church. And it is time for vows, a prayer and a
blessing. But first two letters…
She 3:
I looked at this blank sheet of paper and almost felt intimated by the thought that I need to write you a note. I should present something that needs to be extraordinary and so remarkable on this special day.
Then I realized we will be living together for seven years this November. Only seven years? I looked back and pondered for a moment how much we have gone through together. The roller-coaster of life has brought us surprise turns and up’s & down’s. The love continues to grow.
This is love for me: The morning kisses before I wake up in the morning. Lying in bed and listening to the steam engine of the Nespresso machine. How I anticipate and integrate the rhythm of your morning ritual. Love is these hundred tiny things that we do together: Snuggles and watching a show on a Friday night. Giving you ideas for your next presentation. Being there while you’re facing a career dilemma. Enjoying a gourmet feast of food and wine.
Our love breathes life into these years. I ask myself often: If I die now, will I leave with regrets? I probably would have said yes, had I not met you. I probably would have said yes, had we not spent great biking days at Norwalk (with shiny toothy smiles). I probably would have said yes, had we not moved to Nyon. I probably would have said yes, had we not seen the giant lily at Kew Gardens in London. I probably would have said yes, had we not gone to the cultural dinner at le Berceau des Sens.[2]
In the Buddhist culture,
we were taught to live in the moment, and experience the moment.
I didn't realize that you could actually be ready to die a
hundred times because you are simply content and happy.
Every day is a new
day. Every day should be celebrated as if it’s your birthday. Every
day we should love as if it is our last day.
Much love and more to come...
Reader:
A reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans
Who shall separate us
from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or
nakedness or danger or sword? …
No, in all these things
we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced
that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor
the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all
creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ
Jesus our Lord. –Romans 8:35, 37-39
Reader: The
Word of the Lord
All: Thanks
be to God
Vows and Promises
With
the JOP presiding, the couple stands in front, face to face, reciting
responsively a poem by Robert Bly[3]… [please hold photographs during the vows]
Bride*: *A
man and a woman sit near each other,
Groom: and
they do not long
at
this moment to be older,
*or
younger,
nor
born
in
any other nation,
*or
time, or place.
They
are content to be where they are,
*talking
or not-talking.
Their
breaths together feed someone whom we do not know.
*The
man sees the way his fingers move;
he
sees her hands close around a book she hands to him.
*They
obey a third body that they share in common.
They
have made a promise to love that body.
*Age
may come, parting may come,
death
will come.
*A
man and a woman sit near each other;
as
they breathe they feed someone we do not know,
*someone
we know of,
whom
we have never seen.
* * * * *
Groom: Will
you take this chair my love?
Bride: I
will.
Bride: And
will you take this chair my love?
Groom: I
will.
JOP: Do
you have a token or symbol which you wish to exchange?
Bride & Groom: We
do.
The
adopted parents come forward; the aunt brings the bulbs and the uncle brings
the rings
Groom: Today
we plant a new flower.
Bride: That
will bloom anew each year.
The
Bride and Groom exchange bulbs then hand them back to the aunt to plant in the
spring, and then take the rings from the uncle.
Groom: With
this ring I make you my promise to love, honor and cherish
Bride: With
this ring I make you my promise to love, honor and cherish[4]
The
parents are seated.
JOP: Shirley
and Ed, you have expressed your love to one another through the commitment and
promises you have just made. It is with these in mind that I pronounce you
husband and wife.
No longer simply partners and best friends, you have become husband and wife and can now seal the agreement with a kiss.[5]
Narrator: And
now what say all of you?
All (loudly): We
affirm you husband and wife!
[Applause, but hold your paper planes :-)]
Prayers and Blessings
Welcomer: Let
us say responsively, the prayer of St. Francis[6]
[All
read the asterisked* lines loudly]
Welcomer: Lord,
make us an instrument of your peace.
Where
there is hatred,
All*: * let us sow love;
where
there is injury,
*
pardon;
where
there is discord,
*
union;
where
there is doubt,
*
faith;
where
there is despair,
*
hope;
where
there is darkness,
*
light;
where
there is sadness,
*
joy.
Grant
that we may not so much seek
to
be consoled
*
as to console;
to
be understood
*
as to understand;
to
be loved
*
as to love.
For
it is in giving
that
we receive;
it
is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and
it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
Welcomer: A
Blessing...
Chaplain: The
Benediction
“Life
is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who
travel with us. So be quick to love, and make haste to be kind. And may the
blessing of God -- Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer -- be upon you, and
remain with you and all those you love, now and forever. Amen.”
[Cheers, applause and hugs –and now the throwing of the paper
airplanes]
Two Chairs
 |
| Lynn Tait, "Santorini, Two Chairs" |
We may look at these
two chairs
that face us as empty,
sitting outside this
rugged house
with the closed blue
shutter
and stucco falling
from the field stone,
but I see all the
conversations
that have not yet
happened,
the laughter that has
not yet
rung out across this
path,
the glance that comes
before the kiss;
what has been behind
this window
tied shut with a bit
of straw
has been,
and what is yet to
come
cannot be kept within
these walls;
come sit with me
and start a story
as if it were
tomorrow,
and I will dream with
you.
To the Bride, for
Christmas, 2013
Unless otherwise noted, all poems © Copyright 2008-2015, E.G.
Happ, All Rights Reserved.
All text © Copyright 2015, E.G. Happ and S. Chen, All Rights
Reserved.
[2] Le
Berceau des Sens is a restaurant at EHL, the Hospitality School of Lausanne, http://www.ehl.edu/en
[3] Robert
Bly, “A Man and a Woman Sit Near Each Other”, Loving a Woman in Two Worlds,
Doubleday; July, 1985
[4] In
the Taiwanese culture, the bride wears the ring on her right hand.
[6] A
prayer attributed to St. Francis
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