The band was in the middle of the set when we stepped outside for a couple of snaps. Anna (the owner of both Downtown Beirut bars) can be seen in the foreground. She gave us the space and a keg as a wedding gift. Bill Pritz the baker brought a huge carrot cake from his shop up in Harlem, also a gift. When I first saw Carolyn in the Betsy Johnson dress it took my breath away.

Friends Roy Edroso and John Terhorst (along with Gene from Bad Tuna on the kit) generously gave us a rocking, total-skronk set for the reception. Loud and pure noise at its best! What a gift: I'd like to know who else in the world can say the Reverb Motherfuckers played at their reception.

It was an extremely casual affair. I recruited my best man Bob, the guy who took this photo, out in the parking lot before we got started. Originally slated outdoors for the Park of the Roses, an hours-long deluge forced a shift to the reception venue, the women's club next door. Power was knocked out for half of Columbus; we got dressed for the ceremony in the dark.

Technically this was still part of the honeymoon, an overnight ferry between the Shetland Islands and Iceland. I sectioned it off from the rest of the trip because the place was so extraordinary. The only way these photos could do justice to what we saw would be to print them billboard size.

The Iceland ferry route starts in a channel between rows of massive monochromatic peaks; I ran out of color film soon after the passage began. It's almost hard to say which prints are in color and which are in black-and-white. Most were Tri-X, my favorite film stock then and now. I’ve confused things even further by tinting the last image and then giving it a title: to me it looked a century-old print found in a junk shop.

Like a switch being thrown, the second we cleared the channel we both became seasick. Gone were dinner plans; we spent the rest of the evening horizontal in our cabin. Carolyn crawled out for Dramamine at one point, miming vomiting for the woman at a service desk who kept a supply. During the night the sea swells became intense; wallet, brushes, books, and change on a night table went flying. Note that the night table had raised edges to prevent this from happening. Our cabin was four decks above the waterline and we saw rising waves higher than our porthole.

I'd been dreaming of ocean adventure for years, dreams like George Bailey’s fantasies in It’s A Wonderful Life. Now all I could think about was how cold the water would be, how dark, how deep.

Kansas cannot be depicted in Academy ratio; it is a place made for widescreen, like Zinneman’s Todd-AO version of Oklahoma. In this photo I was cropping to 70mm aspect ratio. If the desert looked that good in Lawrence of Arabia, why couldn't Kansas?