Can I Get A Witness?

I am still upset about something that happened on Wednesday evening, November 30. You see, Joy and I went to the Cook Country courthouse to get our Marriage License. You would think this would be an exciting moment. Needless to say, it was highly disappointing. We made our way to the office where we were helped by a very nice lady wearing a blue suit and white tennis shoes. When she asked for and I.D., I gave her my passport. Whenever I know I'm going to be asked for an I.D., I ALWAYS take my passport. I love that it shows it's worn and when I'm standing in lines I can look at all the pretty stamps and my ridiculous picture from when I was 18 and too cool to smile. (Don't even get me started on the fact that I recently found out that when your passport expires and you need a new one, they require the old one back since it's government property and all. Call me silly, but my passport is one of my favourite possessions, even if it is technically the governments, and I have no intention of parting with it...)

So we're standing at the little desk with the sign that says, "Marriage Licenses" and are being helped by this nice woman, who does somewhat scoff when she sees my passport because "they're just so hard to get to lay open to get the information I need." Well, even though my driver's license was sitting in my back pocket, I wasn't about to cave in. And yes, I realize I can be really weird about some things.

I wonder what happened to people's senses of humor. Maybe they just don't think I'm funny, which does make some sense. She told us she was about to ask us some questions, so in pure cheesy fashion, I gaze at Joy and ask if she wants to hold hands while we do this. Not a smile. She double-checked to make sure we're not cousins, took some data, asked us if we'd ever been married before (this was the moment I said to Joy, "Oh shoot...I knew there was something I've been forgetting to tell you..." Still no smile.), and then proceeded to ask us about our educations. When she found out we both had college degrees but I was in graduate school, she said, "So you're still going on, huh?" I was in one of those moods, so my only response was, "To the stars." This time, Joy didn't smile either.

Anyway, all of this is not the real root of my anger right now. You see, whenever I think about a marriage certificate, I envision there being witnesses to sign. Even in my brother's wedding this summer the witnesses signed the license right during the ceremony. Not in Illinois. Apparently they don't do that blessed tradition, and instead, to my utter disgust, some County Clerk named David Orr has his name printed on there as our witness. I was fuming as I left. I know it seems silly, but honestly, why can't I have people we actually know and love sign as our witnesses? Is Mr. David Orr going to be there when the marriage gets tough, when we need someone to remind us of our vows, when we need some accountability and encouragement? Somehow, I doubt it.

I wonder what it might look like if I tried to call him in 20 years, and said, "Hey, Davey, I'm having some problems in my marriage and you were my witness...wanna do lunch?" Then, when we get together and he asks for some I.D. to look up my name or whatever, you better believe I'll proudly hand over that passport that I refused to give up ten years earlier.