Waking in a king-size bed, alone for the last time in my life, I stretched beneath the sheets and cautiously opened my eyes to the morning light. The previous four years had led me to this moment; a moment I knew then, and certainly know now, I did not grasp the full weight of. By now the bridal party would have been gathered for hours preparing under hairspray and powdery makeup to greet the photographers’ constant shutter-flash. It was 9:30.
There’d be breakfast for me and my family down in the hotel lobby. I’d grown up in this town, and the thought of staying in a hotel was humorous to me. Such are the the requests of the mother-of-the-groom. On a day where very little is about the parents of the groom, I figured I’d grant that one request to be in close proximity to one another. Continental with aunts and uncles, cousins, a brother, a sister, friends from out of town. In all the excitement, I spent some time with my godmother and her husband, a few cousins and kept the conversation light. I ate a bowl of cereal on the morning of my wedding. Golden Grahams. Breakfast of husband-champions.
First to polish off my vows, which I came to understand were woefully less complex and touching than my bride’s would be. Then to gather with my groomsmen; a collection of two of my closest friends, my brother, and the two brothers I’d be gaining during the day. College football was in week 3; probably the worst of all the weeks. Most teams schedule cupcake games in week 3. They’ve impressed the national media with their first 2 out of conference games and are taking it easy the week prior to starting conference play.
When you’re getting dressed for your wedding, there’s this lingering question of whether or not you’re doing it right. Is the shirt supposed to be bloused? Double-Windsor for the special occasion? Should I lean back against the couch as we’re ribbing each other about football match-ups, the good old days and what the future holds? Am I supposed to be overcome with emotion, or is the steady approach that got me to this moment sufficient? What is going to rock me about our big day? In all our history as a couple, is this truly the biggest day? Or were the scores of encounters between us, that could have gone this way or that, but ended up going positively, more significant in leading us to this moment?
My brother, the best man, drove me to the church in my car. I’ll always remember he played for me Alicia Keys’ This Girl is on Fire. It had just come out. The first time I heard it. He offered it up as homage to Carolyn’s soon-to-be presence that day. A quick ten minute ride, and we were there. On time. Dressed to the nines. Is this really how all grooms feel?
As the groomsmen, the priest, a few friends, my father and I gathered in the sacristy to await our guests, this beauty was stepping out of her carriage into her fairy-tale destination. I like to think that when I go to heaven, this moment will be what greets me. As I waited in that sacristy, I had no idea I was about to watch this beautiful woman, who’d transformed my heart and my life walk toward me in such a meaningful ceremony. I’d thought forever about what getting married would look and feel like, but I’d never envisioned her in such exquisite detail.
We chose the church we did in part because of our ties to it. We both grew up attending this particular church, had family as parishioners there since the beginning of its existence. What was most beautiful about the church were the faces filled within it. As I looked down the aisle, on both sides were memories of happiness and love, of support and constant presence. I would not describe myself as a traveler. I do not have wanderlust. I do not want it. What I want are those people to remain in my life as readily and constantly as possible. What I wanted in that moment, and want every day is to come home to my wife, my family, and create a home filled with that same happiness and love. That same readiness and dependability.
The reception venue was as perfect on that day as it had ever been. A labor of love, Union Mill was not just where we had our reception, it was where I had shaped my professional identity. A historic renovation undertaken by my former company, Union Mill was, at its time, the largest sail cloth fabricator in the world. It went on to house LifeLike products, a company that hit it big when they realized they could take their train garden product and create low-cost Styrofoam coolers. The Mill was then redeveloped to be a mixed-use facility housing 56 one and two bedroom apartments and 11 tenant spaces for Maryland-based non-profit agencies. The entire project was dedicated to education. Teachers got a rent reduction for living there and the NPOs were all in some way affiliated with education. Its beauty and value resonated with me on every level. It is one of those buildings in Baltimore I will treasure from a myriad of perspectives. We built a 4-tiered courtyard within the space the building enveloped. Our reception was held there.
As the sun set, the lights of the interior courtyard illuminated beautifully and set an ambiance of intimacy and liveliness. It was the perfect combination. Music, food and drinks abounded. It was the perfect celebration to begin the formal marriage my wife and I had casually adopted essentially since the beginning of our relationship.
Five years later and I’m more in love with my beautiful wife. I thought it would be hard to envision, but on nearly every level, I love her more deeply. We’ve added so many layers to our marriage for me to love about her. Children, careers, relocation. We try and talk more about substance and have fought through the traps that lay for so many newly-wedded couples. I am by no means a perfect person. I post about the best of my experiences in hopes to replicate them in my life, and to see them reflected in others. My most recent post generated a conversation after a disagreement my wife and I had. We talked about authenticity. About whether or not I was challenging myself to more constantly live the values I describe in my blog. This conversation, while hard, is exactly why God gave me my wife. I am reminded by my wife, that in my efforts to write about and achieve momentary and lasting happiness, I have to approach all of my roles through that filter. I’ll be working on that until I die. Its probably God’s actual, ntended purpose for the Edison Project in my life; to be authentic, focused and driven towards happiness, even in the most stressful of circumstances. Even with all of my faults, I am an infinitely better person because of her presence in my life.
My wife was the first person I dated who made me feel like I was home around her. She made me feel like I was home within myself. Without ever having to verbalize it, she inspired me to make changes in my life that have benefited me the world over. She has pushed me to stay reflective of myself, has blessed me with three beautiful children, has challenged herself to fulfill a myriad of roles in life, regardless of the lifestyle changes they’d require. After dating my wife for nine years, I am an entirely different person. She’s saved me in every way you could save someone. She’s given me strength and confidence to carry our family when she couldn’t and has picked us up when I grow weary. There’s not another person alive who could do all of those things for me. We’ve grown in our faith and understanding of where God has called us together. We’ll continue to build our lives, a home and fulfill dreams together. After five years, I’ve come to realize that all of those momentary questions I had of myself, of my wedding day, and of my wife have been answered by the Grace of God, and by the loving partnership I’ve developed with my wife.
Here’s to another five years of realizing together all of the wonderful joys of life God has in store for us.
Yours in the Pursuit of Happiness,
Will O’Connor
I’ve captioned this photo on this page before, but there is no better photographic evidence of the fire Xavier ignites within my heart. During the moments under his captivating exuberance, I am reminded of my own boyishness, and I feel alive in ways manhood does not create on its own. Windblown hair on open water on a sunny day with your son is how I wish for every day to be. On top of all of that, having to constantly check my teaching style in order to creatively administer a lesson to a willing pupil has made me sharper, more patient and more reflective on my psychology, and my son’s. His beauty is in his joy. Also, in the indelible marks he’s left on my heart. I have not the words to adequately express the unique happiness that arises from the bonding of father and son. I’ve been a beneficiary of it my whole life, with my father. I only hope that my efforts will meet with similar joy and success.
More frequently than I write, I think about writing. I suppose that is the same with any passion, but more and more I think about writing my book. Behind story delivery, plot, character development, scenery, poetry/prose refinement, I am constantly searching for the answer to one looming question; What is it about my voice that is unique? My fantasy is that I’d be read like Salinger or Fitzgerald or Thoreau. That I’d make an impact like Vance or Kalanithi or Albom. Those are huge aspirations and provide attitude and a horizon line along my attempt at flight; but those are not my goals.
We’ll start and stop, turn and tumble, ebb and flow down the mountain, part of the greater river, dash against the rapid, cascade down the waterfall. At the top of the mountain, there’s no telling when we’ll surge and when we’ll get swallowed up. Even if we knew the path we could never predict the effect the water level would have on us as a drop; never be able to envision which organism, desperate for our nourishment, would require our vitality along their own separate journey within the shadow of the mountain. All the while, those other drops we started with may reach the gorge for sooner or later than we. Some may never make it. Some may toil ceaselessly while others, buffered by more exposed droplets, seem to endlessly emerge as victims of unforeseen obstacles.
So too, is it with us. We all journey down the same path. We all were born within a time-frame of history that allows us to experience the same, or similar, events. What creates a message, what builds the unrepeatable cadence of our voice is the manner by which we rebound from those unforeseen obstacles. There’s never a way to know what’s around the bend. That’s not our role. Our role is to filter our experience through our passions and create something worth leaving behind for those who might also find themselves searching for a map, or at least a few tools to manage the overwhelming landscape through which we are about to, or are in the midst of careening. The daunting concept that eludes me more frequently than not is that the system; the world, the mountain, history, the river, your family — those affected by your footprint, need your journey, your droplet, your cover, your protection — in order to be in the physical place they need to be at the time they need to be in order to fill the role they were created for.
Pictured to the left is Sean at my wedding. I married my wife 18 months after I met Sean, and in that time, he left such an indelible mark on my heart and my mind that there could be no better a selection for a groomsman. Seen here with his trademark smile, Sean reminded me of the man I wanted to be from the onset. He’s an onion in the best way a man can be. Layered with sophistication, you can talk to Sean about construction, God, sports, wives, and on down the line. He’ll pull you out of the depths of your frustration or stress with the right words, followed by a joke, a slab on the shoulder and the smile in a way that made me view him as a boss, friend, brother and father figure in whatever way was most helpful at the time. I owe my mental approach and determination to Sean. Yes, I believe I’ve always possessed it, but Sean empowered it. The memory of those days at Union Mill still empowers it. In all, we completed two difficult projects together. The last one wrapped about four-and-a-half years ago. His drive and mentor-ship propel me to this day, and are responsible for taking me out of my shadows, including my most recent grapple professionally.
Project Edison Experiments 