A Full Life

Happy Wednesday! I’m back to real life and oh-so-happy to check “officiate wedding” off my to-do list (a quick, easy, casual one—I know).

Like I mentioned last week, almost all of my writing juju was taken up by that speech for the last 4 months, so rather than try to conjure something up with a very, very tired brain I thought I’d just share what I wrote here. After all, I really don’t think I’ve ever spent more time on a piece of writing in my life—writing, editing, refining, deciding I hate it, rewriting again, the cycle goes on and on and on—so where better to share than where I love to share my writing?

I promise you won’t be legally married by the time you get to the bottom.

Backcountry Chronicles

Editor’s note (and technically a writer’s note, too) - the formatting of this has been condensed for brevity. The real, printed version included a lot of bright red "PAUSE HERE” text. I’ve also cut out their vows (for obvious reasons; that’s a touch personal) and a few poems we had friends and family read. Tears were shed.

Welcome. We’re gathered here today to celebrate the love and witness the union of Coleman Moore and Julia Pressler. It’s a rare and beautiful thing to find someone who brings out the best in you, challenges you to grow, and fills your life with joy—and today, we celebrate two people who’ve done just that. 

I’m McCall Moore: Coleman’s sister. And if I do my job here today, I’m soon to be Julia’s sister too—and I’m honored to be the officiant for their wedding. 

Coleman and Julia, before we get started, I want you to take a deep breath and look around. In my experience, it’s pretty common for the officiant to have the couple take a beat and appreciate the moment; all of your closest friends and family in one place, but, look at this: on top of a mountain in one of the most beautiful places in the world. 

Some people may already know this, but three years ago, Coleman and Julia spent the summer together here in Telluride. When Coleman was flying back to New York, he said he looked out the plane window and could see a tent set up on this very mountaintop, and thought “maybe I’ll get married there one day.” You made it.

Every single married person I know, always says that your wedding goes by in the blink of an eye, so before we begin, I just wanted to ground us in this moment and do my best to slow down time a little bit. Consider it my treat. 

Before we dive into your love story, I want to tell everyone a little bit about you both as individual people.

Let’s start with Coleman. I saw a quote about siblings a few weeks ago that said “to the outside world, we all grow old: but not in brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes, family griefs, and joys. We live outside the touch of time.”

From day one, and I truly mean day one, Coleman’s been my protector. Our parents have countless stories of Coleman keeping a watchful eye on me when we were toddlers to make sure I didn’t get too close to the street or whatever he deemed to be the hazard of the day—and there’s more than one photo of us as kids where Coleman has his arm around my shoulders, almost squishing me because he was holding me so tight—but I think that’s the perfect allegory for who Coleman is. He knows his people and he loves them fiercely.

I asked Julia’s parents about their first time meeting you, and the word that kept coming up was character. You’re humble. You listen. You show up for people without needing a spotlight. There’s a quiet strength in you. Whether you’re standing on a river with a fly rod or cheering on Julia from the sidelines, you bring a sense of grounded peace to the people around you. When I talked to Julia’s friends, one of them said you’re the kind of guy who makes you feel like things are going to be okay, just by being there.

Now, Julia: from the moment I first heard about you, I knew Coleman was done for. In December of 2020, I was in Chatham on the night Coleman was planning on taking the train back so I drove in to pick him up. 

I was a little shocked when Coleman’s response to “What did you do last night?” was “I went on a first date with this girl Julia and uh, I really like her.” And then proceeded to spend at least half of the drive home telling me about you, how you were a teacher and how much he could tell you cared about each and every one of your students, your family, how great they sounded—of course, how much your dad loved to ski—and most of all, how kind you were. 

You’re a light. I truly cannot overstate how much I’ve loved getting to know you over the last 4.5 years. You’re joyful, sharp, and simply yourself. People are drawn to you because you’re real. You know who you are and bring the full version into every space you’re in. 

You’re the kind of partner who makes the little things feel meaningful. Someone told me you and Coleman never order just one dish—you’re always splitting, always sharing, always making meals an act of togetherness. That’s who you are, though: you turn everyday moments into connection.

What’s beautiful is that you both are whole on your own. Strong. Self-aware. Grounded and full of life. But together you become something even more extraordinary.

So let’s talk about where you two go from here.

One of my favorite authors in the world always says you should ask two questions of your work: What happened in this story? And what is this story about? 

And when I think about your story, what happened here is nothing short of magic. Two people who complement, challenge, push, and bring immense joy to each other’s lives managed to find each other—and love one another in a way that makes them both complete.

You can probably tell where I’m going with this: Asking these two questions of your work is also true in life, or at least when one wishes to have an ever-evolving life. What this requires of us is that we don’t get tangled up in the living. It demands that we focus not only on what’s happening in our stories, but also what our stories are about.

And the beautiful part of this is: you two get to decide what this story is about.

I may not know a lot about marriage, but I do know enough about love, and more importantly, life—to tell you this: more than anything else, you need to reach hard in the direction of the lives you want, even when, especially when, it’s difficult to do so. 

That means: communicate mindfully, take risks, confront contradictory truths, and trust the inner voice that speaks with love.

Real change happens on the level of the gesture. It’s one person doing one thing differently than he or she did before. To build the life you both want, and I know you’ll both fight for, for all the years to come, the work is there. It’s your task. Building that life together will give you strength and clarity, and it will bring you closer to the versions of yourselves that you hope to be.

There are so many tiny revolutions in a life, and a million ways we have to circle around ourselves to grow and change. And today, you two start the journey by joining hand-in-hand and saying in front of all your closest friends and family, that you’re ready to take on those tiny revolutions together. To grow and to change. Together.

As you take each other's hands, really look at these hands. They are young, soft, and full of promise. But eventually they will be withered and show their wisdom through the years. The important thing to remember is to keep holding these hands throughout all the years in between—and what a privilege it is to share that time.

Today is the beginning of your story as husband and wife. As you stand here, you promise not only your own growth, but also your willingness to witness and withstand the growth of another human being. That’s because in marriage you say not only, “I love you today,” but also, “I promise to love you tomorrow, the next day, and always.” 

Like I said, you decide what this story is about—but standing here today, it begins as one about promises.

Artiste Break

A half baked art update this week. This one’s a (slightly belated) birthday gift for a dear friend who I grew up with. Many, many games of manhunt and capture the flag were played on the back and front yard of this house.

To Go Snacks

📚 I picked up a copy of Thirty Below when I was in Telluride and promptly read it cover-to-cover within 36 hours. It’s all about the story of the Denali Damsels; the team of female mountaineers who pulled off the first-ever all-women’s ascent of Denali. All I have to say: 70’s feminists are so fucking bad ass.

⛷️ More heat from the Storm Skiing Journal: When did American lift prices get so stupid?

⛰️ Speaking of lifts, we’re officially 90 days out from ski season. Gird your loins.

❤️ Do you ever get a random phrase stuck in your head? I had “such is the cup of duplicity we drink from” rattling around my brain for the last few days before I remembered it’s from this Modern Love essay from 2005. Well worth a read.

🎿 Okay, fine, one more skiing link. If there’s one thing I’m a sucker for, it’s a Jim and Mads YouTube video. Watch them take on the East and West Hourglass Couloirs on Nez Perce in Grand Teton National Park—or, in fewer words, the narrowest couloir in the Tetons.

“To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art” - Charles Bukowski

- McCall 🌻

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