Teaching the Terrified Tongue (part I)

"O harp and altar, of the fury fused,"

Proem to the Brooklyn Bridge — Hart Crane

On the evening of the summer solstice of 1983, a hundred years after the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, a taxi brought us downtown from 799 Greenwich Street to the Municipal Building and the pedestrian ramp of the bridge. Barbara, Athelantis, Jane, and I walked up the ramp toward the bridge's first tower above the East River. From there we turned to look west, back at Manhattan. The sun was setting above the windows of the World Trade Center.

There was no need for a permit to hold our wedding on the Brooklyn Bridge. We didn’t bring a large crowd. Jane Braswell was there. She was our upstairs neighbor in 799, the artists’ co-op Barbara helped to legalize through her work with Artists Tenant Association. James Proud, an Episcopal priest and the attorney for Ten Penny Players, came to administer our vows. Joan Harrington, from Advocates for Children, arrived with her family from the Brooklyn side of the bridge.

From out the constant flow of everyday pedestrians crossing the bridge, a couple of tourists from Sweden, amused by our ceremony, stopped to take our picture.