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SURVIVING AND THRIVING!

Getting a license at the Bronx County Courthouse

So there we were, two very middle-aged women climbing the steps of the Bronx County Courthouse on a beautiful August day. Our driver, Orlando, could hardly contain his curiosity about our mission, but contented himself in wishing us well as we went to pick up our "big bag of money." Well, hardly.
I don't know what I expected of the building, but I was stunned! The structure is massive, rising nine stories in a neo-classic style, the sides decorated with "vertical ribbons with copper and nicket Art Deco style, separated by limestone piers." And that's only the outside. We entered through high marble arches into a lobby with bronze doors, wood paneling and murals designed by workers of the WPA. Unexpectedly for me, I began to cry. "Oh, Betty, I said this is perfect! Unlike our own times, the government had hired workers in 1933 whose occupations are represented in friezes: agriculture, commerce, industry, religion and the arts. We had both come back to our roots as the children of working class parents, raised in the deprivations of the Great Depression.
We found the room for "Marriage Licenses," strode up to the first window and asked for the application. A young Puerto Rican girl smiled and said, "Sure, let me help you." Betty asked if this were the first gay wedding application she had received and she said, "Oh, no, we started with two gentlemen this morning at 8:30a.m. and every day, it's been the same." Well, it may have "been the same," but I can assure you, dear reader, that we were the only older, lesbian white women in the room. As we left, the line of young multi-racial, multi-ethnic couples waved us on and called out their congratulations! I still can't stop weeping. My heart is full
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