Since I had been neglecting Rich because my nights are usually devoted to Law School, one Friday night I came home and quickly threw together a candlelight place setting while he was out watering the garden. It wasn’t much, but it appeared it was the thought that counted.

While cleaning up the office, I found a little hand-written and faded note card with this recipe on it in Rich’s stuff.

I don’t know who it’s from, but it is very German sounding, of course – with an Asian twist believe it or not. It also looks like a recipe for someone who doesn’t mind spending time in the kitchen preparing a meal as it takes more than 3 hours from start to finish.

Pork & Sauerkraut
(About 3 hours preparation time)

1 jar (16-oz) of sauerkraut
1 pound pork chops or “country-style” pork ribs
1 apple cored, peeled and sliced
1 onion sliced
1 tablespoon soy sauce

Place sauerkraut, sliced onion and sliced apple in a pot. Bring to a boil then simmer on low heat fro 2 hours .

About 15 minutes before the sauerkraut time is up, in a lightly-oiled large frying pan, thoroughly brown pork. Sprinkle with soy sauce. Pour cooked sauerkraut over the pork. Cover and simmer for 1 hour. Add water as needed.

Serve with mashed potatoes.

[Upon reading this, instead of mashed potatoes, I'd add potato pancakes and applesauce since there is enough time to make them while the sauerkraut is simmering.]

Here Rich and I are caught off guard for a photo by a co-worker at Silicon Valley Biz Ink as we arrived at a Christmas party. Unfortunately we look like two rejects from The Wiggles.

The before and after of Rich’s business cards. One with the old last name; one with the new last name.

(The following was written on request for the Spring Newsletter for the Billy DeFrank LGBT Center)

By David Speakman

Typical of our Silicon Valley life, my recent marriage can be traded to an email. February 11, a note in my inbox said that San Francisco would grant marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

Three days later on Valentine’s Day, my life partner Rich Bean and I were standing in line outside City Hall in San Francisco along with hundreds of other couples, patiently waiting our turn to say, “I do.”

The line was long – longer than your worst DMV nightmare. Four or five people thick, it stretched for four blocks. By 4:30 p.m. and closing time, Rich and I hadn’t even made it to the Van Ness side of the building where City Hall entrance is. But we were hopeful of getting married and having a Valentine’s Day anniversary. This despite rumors that were passing around that the city had begun turning away people since it was unable to handle the huge crowd.

Moments later, the rumors were confirmed. A city worker apologized and handed us a piece of paper which was to “guarantee” us a spot for the next day. Worse than us, they looked exhausted. These government workers volunteered to give up their three-day weekend, work full shifts all weekend without pay, overtime credit or even breaks for meals.

Still it was heartbreaking. Crestfallen like scores of other couples that day, Rich and I drove back to our home, unmarried. But we were more determined than ever to become husband and husband.

Too excited to sleep much that night, bleary-eyed, we got up early and drove back the next day and showed up four hours before the building opened. But the line at the front of the building had already stretched a full block. Some people had camped out all night to stay in line. Still, we dutifully took our place and settled in for another long wait and hoped for the best, checking (more than once) to make sure we still had our number from the day before – our guarantee.

Luckily we met some of the most amazing people while waiting in line. With 15 and 18 years of respective activism under our belts, Rich and I consider ourselves veterans of LGBT-related gatherings. But this was different; neither pride nor protest. The assembled crowd was not your stereotypical LGBT group, either. Mist of us were in the over-35 age bracket and it was the most orderly, well-behaved crowd of more than 1,000 gay and lesbian people I’ve ever seen.

The mood was that of quiet hopefulness with a light tinge of desperation. We were gathered there that day in fear that we would be sent home once again by overwhelmed city workers who, although marrying one coupe a minute on average, said could only handle 400 marriages that Sunday.

The relative silence of our assembly was only broken by the occasional honking in support or our own cheers as yet one more newlywed couple left the building, The cheers were two-fold, part in congratulations to the newlyweds and part in self-congratulations that the various newlyweds-in-waiting like us were one step closer to our own marriage ceremony.

at 10 a.m. we got the news for the day. The city said ti would process us in two groups of 200. Everyone else had to wait and come back the next day on a first-come first-served basis. We also were told we had to exchange our number from the previous day for fresh numbers which would tell us if we made the cut or not. I started to worry. Like the day before, there already were hundreds of couples in front of us in line.

But as city officials approached us, they were smiling. “You will get married today,” Assessor Mabel Teng reassured us as Rich was handed a numbered piece of paper that looked a little too much like a deli counter number.

He handed it to me and I held on to that little piece of paper like it was the Holy Grail. It said “B201.” Rich and I would be the second couple married out of the second group.

A few hours later, Rich and I were finally ushered into the city hall building to fill out paperwork and be married. Every step of the way, I made sure to thanks every volunteer worker I could. Not really for making history in the gay rights movement, but for working on a Sunday for no pay to allow me to marry the love of my life.

[[--Ed. note: Along with being newlyweds, David Speakman and Rich Bean are members of the DeFrank Center board of directors.]]