This post is a few days late. Saturday was our sixth anniversary. People tend to assume that for an Englishman to marry an American citizen is straightforward. In September 2001 I applied for a fiance visa so Paul could come over from England and marry me. The process is complicated. We had to submit airline tickets and pictures of every visit over the previous 5 years. Paul had to provide a police report from everyplace he had lived; fortunately English has a national police system. I had to give a full account of my finances to prove I could support him. Paul had to have a thorough medical exam, HIV and STD tests, and numerous immunizations.
Once the fiance visa is approved in the US, it is sent to the American Embassy in the UK, and the procedure begins anew. You have to marry within 90 days of using your fiance visa, so we planned to get married within two weeks of his arrival. We didn’t know exactly when Paul was coming until three days before his arrival.
We had a very small civil ceremony–my mom, our daughters, our son-in-law, my best friends. I wore red; the girls wore black. We got married at the home of a Justice of the Peace; our wedding dinner was at an excellent restaurant that had recently opened two blocks away. My mom was wheelchair-bound, so we needed someplace nearby.
It was the best wedding ever, and we are living happily ever after.