If you want to advertise the fact that you’re getting married without actually telling people, all you need to do is register for a marriage license. It turns out everyone and his uncle’s cousin’s sister reads the local newspaper’s daily police docket.
Where else can you get the real local news? Drug deals gone bad. Domestic violence suits. Stolen vehicles. Real estate transfers. Juvenile delinquents. Traffic tickets. Shoplifting. And marriage licenses. Very fitting. Lots of bliss going on in that department.
The local newspaper ran our marriage license information on Wednesday, five days after we applied for one. That morning, I had e-mails waiting in my inbox from people who had read the docket and just had to congratulate me.
“You read the police docket?” I asked one friend.
“Religiously,” she replied. “How else do I keep tabs on who is doing what in Findlay?” Now I’m not sure I’m interested in meeting the rest of her friends.
Last night, I ran into a former college English professor at an art walk. She said, “I had no idea you were still in town until I read about your marriage license in the paper. How exciting!” I thought about asking her if, as a published poet and photographer, the police docket was a muse for her, but I refrained.
Perhaps, Fiancé, we should have applied for the marriage license directly after your proposal. Maybe we could have saved more than several phone conversations. I wonder if the paper would’ve printed a link to my blog right under the license information. Maybe upon request.