On Sarandi Street are groups of people, dressed to the nines, standing in my way as I pass on a sidewalk past a woman’s fashion store,

Happy couples exit a bland doorway, into the sunlight. They are jubilant.

When more smiling couples come out and take photos, throw rice, hug and toss flowers to the next lucky man or woman, it is certain this extravaganza is about marriage, a traditional and good institution, if there ever was one.

A closer look at a little bland sign on the bland building confirms that this storefront office, next to an upscale clothes retailer, is the City’s Office of Matrimony.

As brides and grooms pose outside for their wedding pictures, some with professional photographers, others with friends or family who have phones or fancy cameras, some couples do dramatic hugs and kisses. Others are subdued.

On this occasion it would be a sacrilege to remark that not all of these newly joined couples will be together in five years.

The search to find someone who will live with you, for better and worse, is worth the effort no matter how it ends.

The next historical development in weddings will be to get married at a drive up window, in street clothes, with a cooler of beer in the trunk and passes to the opera in the glove compartment.

Most marriages begin happy but their success rate is still only fifty percent, regardless of who marries you, where you get married, how much money you have, what God you worship.

Odds, as Las Vegas knows, are hard to beat, but odds don’t stop people from getting married.

 

 

 

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