My family of origin was a disjointed one, and the circumstances of my upbringing were filled with considerable difficulties and loss—this is not to say that there weren’t heroes around me. I learned many important lessons from my particular situation, and I am unmistakably thankful for those who raised me. My immediate family was small and there was not much detailed discussion of “where we came from.” I had certain awareness that “my people” (on my mother’s side, at least) were German and Danish, but knew little about the details of their travel to America. Intellectually, I realize that we all stand on the shoulders of those who came before us, but that notion had not truly seeped into my marrow. It was only recently that I really grasped that my own surname, the name of my father, is Scottish. This latent appreciation of my own paternal heritage has been remarkably ignited by my Celebrancy practice.

Over the last year, I have worked with a number of brides and grooms from Scotland, most recently Chris and Debbie from Glasgow. Debbie and Chris, along with about three dozen family members and friends (and a bonus Canadian who is the beloved of the groom’s brother), ventured to New York for a sweet Central Park wedding ceremony over the Memorial Day holiday. Chris and Debbie joined my other wonderful Scots—Anne and Gordon, married several months ago, and Gail and her honorary Scottish husband Jason, who wed last summer. These experiences have awakened in me an interest in understanding my own place among the Scots. The sensory delights offered by these weddings have been innumerable—the distinctive Scottish brogue which occasionally confounds me…..the stories and visual appeal of the family tartans….the unmistakable sound of a bagpipe playing those recognizable tunes of the highland…..all struck a chord in my own heart. The Scots that I have been privileged to work with have been warm, kind folks. As I stood in the midst of this extended family on Friday, I could literally see myself in them. I shared their physical characteristics—eye and hair color, complexion, and stature. I really looked (and felt) like I belonged.

It is interesting that this emotional prompting dovetails with the Memorial Day holiday, which at its core is a weighty remembrance of those who have served our country. A few weeks ago, I was searching through old family photographs, which are used in my new website celebrating ceremonies for families and children, and I came across a nearly century-old letter that my paternal grandfather (Mr. Ritchie), a low ranking soldier in World War I, sent to the young woman he was courting, who became his wife and is my late grandmother. I spent very little time with these people and did not know them well, but my heart was filled with pride, gratitude, and wonder as I read this letter, which must have been early in their courtship. The penmanship was perfect and words were carefully chosen. My soldier grandfather—a young man of little means and education—wrote simple, but commanding, words about the justice and purpose of this war, The War to End all Wars, as they deemed it. We know, of course, that this fight for Democracy was not the final war. Moreover, the idealistic youth of this soldier was, in the end, filled with generous portions of sadness, including the loss of his second son, who died as a pilot in the Vietnam War.

The combination of my looking into the faces of old photographs, reading the words of my long-dead Scottish grandfather, the national celebration of Memorial Day, and the magical elixir my new Scottish friends sprinkled on my heart have created an irresistible desire to ask simple questions: Where are my people from? And what happened to the young family of that Vietnam soldier, Herman Ritchie, who was lost in service to our country when I was still an infant. During this long holiday weekend, I find myself prowling the internet to begin searching for information. I hope that years from now I will have a journal full of names and dates and places, and perhaps new friends. I am looking for my clan. I would not have imagined that this would be one of the gifts of being a Celebrant. I will report back to you, gentle readers, about my progress on the voyage.

As a Celebrant—not simply a wedding officiant—I strive to personalize each of “my” wedding ceremonies, regardless of time constraints or other challenges. With a short turnaround time and other logistical issues, it isn’t always easy to create the unique, detailed ceremonies that move the bride and groom and their guests. But, “I do the best I can….” A couple of weeks ago, I was contacted by an anxious young groom, looking to marry his beautiful Mexican bride in short order. Although they planned a large, religious ceremony in Central America in a few months, for legal issues they needed to conduct a civil ceremony here in New York. As has been the case, lately, he requested a wedding ceremony in the “Ladies’ Pavilion” in Central Park.

The bride and groom were joined by about a dozen loved ones, including members of the bride’s family from Mexico. I gleaned as much of the couple’s story as possible and incorporated those details into the ceremony script. Also, the vows were exchanged bilingually. But, I wanted to do “more” to shine a lot on the significance of the Bride’s home and culture. The couple, after all, had met in Mexico. With only a short time before the gathering, I did some quick research and added a couple of light-hearted elements that—while not exactly a perfect replication of the Mexican traditions—provided a cultural nod to the bride’s family and a few special moments at the wedding.

For instance, in a Mexican wedding, it is customary for the groom to give his bride a wedding present of 13 gold coins, which are blessed by the Priest. The gesture represents the idea of shared prosperity and the groom’s commitment to care for his new wife. Instead, I connected with this tradition by bringing 13 coins in a small fabric bag and presenting it to the bride and groom, as a remembrance of our time together. Among the coins, which I had collected from my own international travels, were ones from various Central American countries. The bride and groom smiled brightly as I passed the memento.

Also, I learned that immediately following a Mexican wedding, the guests surround the bride and groom (standing side-by-side, forming the shape of a heart) as they take their first dance. For our bride and groom, the guests surrounded the couple in a semi-circle and took a vow of community support support and nurture them through their marriage, the joys, as well as the trials.

I wish my couple well and hope that these little ceremony gestures provided some small, fun—but respective—connections to the bride’s home.

Over the last months, I have married men and women who have children ranging from two to 22. One of the simplest ways to acknowledge kids at the wedding is through the telling of the couple’s love story. As a celebrant, one of the ceremony anchors that I rely upon is a well-crafted, personalized narrative of the bride and groom’s romance—the heart of the wedding ceremony. Detailing the couple’s history provides a beautiful occasion to mention the children, underscoring the love and commitment offered by the birth parent and the new parental figure. This is a clear way for parents to honor children, without making kids (or parents) anxious about directly participating in the wedding. Some parents choose to make special vows of support to their children during the wedding, perhaps presenting youngsters with a present or token, such as a medallion or piece of jewelry.

For children who aren’t bashful about joining in the celebration, they can be terrific additions to the bridal party. Eager youngster may be adorable flower girls, ring-bearers, or ushers. A helpful website “I Do, Take Two,” outlines fun ideas for kids, ranging from decorating the bride and groom’s car for departure to making the wedding programs. During a sweet November wedding that I officiated, the bride’s seven year old son gently held the rings, while the couple’s two year old daughter squealed with delight, literally running circles around the bridal party—a much loved Whirling Dervish! By contrast, in December, one of “my” brides chose to have the groom’s two teen-aged sons walk her down the aisle for the processional. The options are limitless.

Other couples choose to have children actively participate in a unifying ritual, a potent symbolic gesture. In a wedding that I officiated last week, the bride had two teen-aged daughters, who were invited to partake in the unity candle ceremony. The daughters brought forward a burning candle to their mother. (The groom’s parents did the same for him.) The bride and groom, having received light from their families, then joined the flame together, as a demonstration of their new family—and one strong flame. The increasingly popular sand ceremony functions in much the same way, with individuals holding containers of different colored sand. Each person pours his container of sand into a larger vase, representing the new blended family. As the sands integrate to form a unique pattern, this work of art reminds everyone of the new family being joined together.

The possibilities for incorporating kids into a special day are vast, limited only by the imagination of the couple (and their celebrant!). With an eye towards flexibility and a readiness for the unexpected, brides and grooms can bask in the participation of their children in the special day.

Photo provided by David Myles Photography.