Two weeks ago, I was a “bridesmaid” at a friend’s wedding. She and I have been friends for more than 17 years, and I was honored when she asked me to participate. When she walked down the aisle, her husband cried. Not one to cry in front of a crowd, the bride lowered her gaze, but when her eyes met his, she was overwhelmed with emotion. Later, during the reception, I watched the two of them dance and thought to myself: Wow – this is love. There was something about the way the two of them looked at each other that stunned me. The love, the connection between the two of them, the devotion and loyalty was all palpable, and it restored a bit of my faith in the “sacred” institution of marriage.

Tuesday, outside the San Diego County Administration Building at 6:30 a.m., I was witness again to the extraordinary commitment of two people … then two more, and two more, and so on.

The same-sex couples who married this week, and who will marry in coming months, share a bond no different from my childhood friend and her husband, or the everyday opposite-sex couples who makes the lifelong commitment to love.

Watching the media circus Tuesday, I couldn’t help but wonder: What’s all the fuss about?

If not for the fact (or the historical significance) the couples who swarmed county clerks offices throughout the state were, by and large, same-sex couples, the weddings Tuesday wouldn’t have registered on the news media’s radar at all.

I understand, of course, the historical significance of the legalization of same-sex marriage in California. I understand the long, daunting battle by civil rights activists to achieve marriage equality. And I certainly understand the fear of November, when rights for future same-sex couples may be stripped by voters.

Outside that context (if, in fact, it is possible to take the issue out of historical context), I struggled to find a story.

I talked with a number of couples, some who had been together five years, some who had been together more than 20; I searched high and low for a compelling tale, a couple who beat harrowing odds to make history as one of the first wedded couples in our state. I searched for couples who could share epic love stories, stories that would tug at readers’ hearts and inspire even the most cynical single.

I found, instead, perhaps to no one’s surprise but my own, everyday couples sharing an expression of love; couples who had met through friends or at nightclubs, couples who have children and grandchildren, couples who were headed home after ceremonies to celebrate, or return to work – all ordinary couples.

I felt, at first, as though I’d failed as a writer to find the story, any story, that would have a lasting impact on readers. I realized later the story, perhaps, is there was no story; and that just may have the most impact. Of course, we are running a story (see page 12) – what struck me most, though, was the marriages Tuesday just made sense.

Kate Kendell, the executive director for the National Center for Lesbian Rights, made an interesting observation in a statement released to media Tuesday.

“I asked Phyllis [Lyon] and Del [Martin] what they planned to do after their wedding, and they said they wanted to have their party and then rest,” Kendell wrote. “They planned to play cards, read, watch the news, and attend a wedding of close friends. In other words, they planned to live just as they did yesterday, last week, last month, and last year. They planned to enjoy the extraordinariness of ordinary love, the comfort of sitting next to the person you love most in the world. Phyllis and Del have been sitting side by side for 55 years. Now, they will wake up and their love will be the same – extraordinary and ordinary all at the same time – but they will be married, a gift and a fundamental right they never thought they would live to see.”

Kendell’s eloquent articulation summarizes Tuesday’s news well – for a day that will be written in history books, the news, much like the love and the lives of the couples who wed, was extraordinary and ordinary, all at the same time.

Joseph Peña

Editor