AMERICANA / THE QUIET APPEAL OF COURTHOUSE WEDDINGS

SHORT: “Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio [above] after their civil wedding at San Francisco City Hall, January 14, 1954, 1:45 p.m., officiated by Judge Charles S. Peery.” On October 27, 1954 she filed for divorce after 274 days. 

Forget the banquet halls and the six-tier fondant cakes—2025 belongs to the courthouse wedding. With its simplicity, intimacy, and practicality, this stripped-down approach to matrimony is having a cultural moment. 

There’s something refreshingly real about standing in front of a judge or clerk with just a witness or two. No orchestrated playlist, no seating charts, no crushing bills that linger longer than the champagne buzz. 

Couples are rediscovering the beauty of a marriage ceremony that’s about them—not about impressing a hundred guests or breaking the bank. Economic reality plays its part. 

With wedding costs averaging over $30,000 nationwide, many couples are choosing to invest in their future instead of a single day. 

A courthouse wedding, often costing less than a nice dinner out, lets them save for a home, travel, or something meaningful beyond the “I do.” 

But beyond budgets, there’s romance in the minimalism. Courthouse weddings lean on quiet authenticity—two people making a promise without fanfare. It’s why so many iconic couples—rock stars, Hollywood legends, and everyday romantics—have chosen the same path. 

There’s a timelessness to that government-issued paper and the plainspoken vows. And nothing stops a couple from celebrating afterward. A courthouse ceremony can be followed by a dinner with close friends, a weekend trip, or a blowout party later. It’s a reminder that weddings are a moment, but marriages are a journey—and sometimes less really is more. 

LONG: Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader married Martin D. Ginsburg in a small civil ceremony just after her graduation from Cornell on June 23, 1954, in Long Island, New York—a modest wedding with only family present, often described as a backyard or civil ceremony. It lasted 56 years.  Public image above shows couple in later years

OTHER NOTABLE COURTHOUSE WEDDINGS 

• Vice President Kamala Harris & Doug Emhoff Married in a small civil ceremony at a Santa Barbara courthouse on August 22, 2014—Doug’s sister officiated, and they included Jewish traditions like the breaking of the glass 

• Maria Hester Monroe Gouverneur & Samuel L. Gouverneur In March 1820, President James Monroe’s daughter wed her cousin (and his private secretary) in the White House’s Blue Room, marking the first wedding of a presidential child on the premises.

• Matt Damon & Luciana Barroso – Opted for a private civil ceremony at New York City Hall in 2005. 

• Harrison Ford & Calista Flockhart – Wed at a courthouse in Santa Fe, New Mexico, in 2010. 

• Grover Cleveland & Frances Folsom--President Cleveland tied the knot with Frances Folsom inside the Blue Room of the White House on June 2, 1886—the only sitting U.S. president to be wed at the White House.

 * Financial Advisor Thomas Michael Shess, III marries U.S. Navy Lieutenant Amanda Moore [Ret.] on this date in 2025 in a Chula Vista [CA] Courthouse ceremony.  The Shesses honeymooned at the recently opened Gaylord Resort in South Bay.  Parents attended the ceremony, including the groom's father who is publisher of this blog.

AMERICANA / BASEBALL FOR THE NON-BELIEVER

How to Explain MLB’s Mid-Season Player Trading Deadline to a Martian 

Let’s be honest. Baseball isn’t everyone’s bag of sunflower seeds. Especially when your beloved daughter marries a perfectly nice guy who refers to the infield fly rule as “bug spray” and thinks a closer is just someone standing too near the television. 

 So, for all the non-believers, soccer spouses, casual channel-surfers, and well-meaning in-laws out there, here’s a quick primer on one of Major League Baseball’s most puzzling rituals: the mid-season player trading deadline. 

 THE BASICS: TRADING PLACES, WITH BALLPLAYERS 

Every year around the end of July, MLB teams play a high-stakes version of Let’s Make a Deal. The deadline marks the last day teams can trade players without jumping through bureaucratic flaming hoops. It’s not just about moving luggage and learning new zip codes. It’s about strategy, payroll, future dreams, and sometimes panic. 

 Teams that are doing well and eyeing the playoffs are called buyers. They’re shopping for that missing piece — maybe a power hitter, a lights-out pitcher, or just someone who knows how to bunt without breaking into hives. 

 Teams at the bottom of the standings? They become sellers. That means unloading expensive veterans for cheaper, younger players — called prospects — in hopes that someday, maybe, they’ll become stars and turn things around by the time your new son-in-law figures out what a double switch is. 

 WHY DO THEY DO IT? 

Because baseball is the long game. A team might give up a popular player — someone with a walk-up song and a bobblehead night — in order to get two promising rookies who are still playing in places like Scranton or [stuck in] Lodi. 

For bottom dwellers think of it as heartbreak now, hope later. Think of it like a soccer team selling their best forward to build a better defense in three years. Or, in more relatable terms: like trading in your classic car now before the repair bills eat your 401(k). 

 The trade deadline exists for one main reason: to keep things fair — or at least, as fair as baseball gets. Without a deadline, wealthy or win-hungry teams could wait until the very end of the season, see exactly what they need, and then cherry-pick star players from weaker teams that are already out of playoff contention. Imagine the rich getting richer while the bottom teams become revolving doors of despair. It would be chaos in cleats. 

 So, MLB draws a line in the infield dirt: July 31st (or thereabouts) is the last day teams can trade players freely during the regular season. After that? Trades become a lot more complicated. Players have to go through waivers — a bureaucratic maze that few fans understand and fewer GMs enjoy navigating. It’s baseball’s version of “you should’ve done this before the deadline, buddy.” 

 The idea is to force teams to make decisions, commit to a direction, and stop gaming the system late in the season. You’re either going for it, adding talent for a playoff run, or you’re retooling for next year. Either way, the deadline puts pressure on front offices to act decisively or risk standing still while their rivals get better. 

 It adds drama, strategy, and just the right amount of panic. And for fans, it’s a thrilling, nerve-racking 48 hours of rumors, Twitter refreshes, and speculative texts that begin with “What if we trade the backup catcher and two minor leaguers for a guy who can throw 100 mph in his sleep?” 

 Bottom line: the deadline isn’t just a rule — it’s a moment. A pivot point. A baseball midsummer’s daydream or nightmare, depending on who you root for. 

 SOME FANS LOVE IT. OTHERS LOSE SLEEP. The trade deadline is Christmas for sports radio hosts and therapy season for diehard fans. You might wake up and find your favorite player has packed his glove and is now playing for your team’s sworn enemy. 

There are tears. 

There are tweets. 

There is always someone yelling “fire the GM.” 

 But at its core, the trading deadline is about belief: in the future, in second chances, in the idea that one new player might be all it takes to turn summer into a celebration. 

 SO, SON-IN-LAW, HERE’S YOUR CHEAT SHEET: 

• Good teams = buyers 

• Bad teams = sellers 

• Prospects = future stars (or future insurance agents) 

• The trade deadline = baseball’s version of a clearance sale… with cleats And no, you can’t use your fantasy soccer league points to trade for a relief pitcher. (We checked.) Now pass the peanuts, explain offsides one more time, and let’s hope the team that just traded away their star shortstop knows what they’re doing. 

 Play ball. 

Illustration by F. Stop Fitzgerald, PillartoPost.org, Art. Dept.