Love: Carol Spelkoman & Carol Underwood

Carol S. grew up in West Oak Lane, but spent much of her young adult life hopping the globe.

In January 1983, back in Philadelphia after several years living in India, Sri Lanka, and other places, she decided to do some exploration of another kind. "I had always wondered if I were gay," she said.

On a Friday night, Carol S. pulled up a bar stool at the now-defunct Sneakers in Old City, her first time ever at a gay bar.

She nervously stirred her mixed drink, spilling ice from her glass. She put the ice in the communal ashtray, where it doused the cigarette of Carol U., perched on the next stool.

"I was getting a little annoyed with her," Carol U. said. "My friends kept encouraging me to say hi to her, and I said, 'No, no, no!' But then we started talking."

Carol U., who is now 68, spoke of her two young sons from a previous marriage. Carol S., now 60, spoke of her travels, and impressed her new friend by speaking Sinhalese.

They closed the bar and went to breakfast.

The next night, they met for dinner in Chinatown.

"She took over my life right there," Carol U. jokes. "I wanted to get chicken chow mein. She told me it was boring and I should order moo goo gai pan"- a dish Carol S., a vegetarian, had never tried.

That Tuesday after work, Carol S. visited Carol U. at her home in Lansdowne - the town she had lived in since childhood. "She never went home," Carol U. said.

Carol S., who did electrical technology and technician work before retiring, and Carol U., general manager for a local communications company, raised Doug, now 39, and Ken, now 43, together.

Doug and Ken's father died 13 years ago. About seven years later, when they were in their 30s, Carol S. adopted them.

"She loved the boys, and I couldn't have asked for a more supportive partner in raising them," Carol U. said.

Carol S. said that apart from the symbolism, the adoption added a layer of legal protection. If she were in the hospital, for example, her sons and grandchildren would have the right to visit and make health decisions.

Carol U. proposed to Carol S. regularly for years. Carol S. always said no.

They had a commitment certificate, received after a group ceremony during a march on Washington in the 1990s. Because neither Pennsylvania nor the federal government would recognize a marriage, a new certificate wouldn't mean any more than that, Carol S. reasoned.

For her 60th birthday party, the couple planned a celebration aboard a yacht on the Delaware River. In June 2013, a few weeks before the bash, Carol S. was in the shower, thinking about both her party and the U.S. Supreme Court's then-pending decision on the Defense of Marriage Act.

After, she walked into the kitchen where Carol U. was making breakfast. "I have a good idea," she said.

"What?" the other Carol asked.

"Let's get married at the party."

"Are you kidding?" Carol U. asked.

"No. It's everything I ever wanted - all of our family and friends will be there, and the Supreme Court will have ruled by then."

Carol U.'s eyes filled, and she said yes.

Weeks before the wedding, the Supreme Court struck down DOMA. Then Pennsylvania's attorney general said she would not defend Pennsylvania's law prohibiting same-sex marriage.

The couple, who now live in Philadelphia, were married before 55 guests. Carol S. is Jewish, and so they wed beneath a chuppah made by her sister Randee and brother-in-law Mike.

The grandchildren each had a role: Leighton, 6, was ring bearer. Abby, 8, and Charlotte, 3, were flower girls. Ashley, 13, placed a lei of white orchids around her nanny's and bubby's necks.

The couple entered the ceremony to Celine Dion's "Because You Love Me."

They found ways to kid each other in their mostly serious vows: "You can always trust me, except when you ask about my pishka," said Carol U., using a Yiddish word to describe her gambling kitty. "I couldn't love you more, unless you were a vegetarian," said Carol S.

Their sons offered a toast, joking that after 30 years, they were used to having two moms, and tearing up when they said how proud they are.

The couple felt married that day, but since Pennsylvania does not recognize same-sex marriage, they wed legally 10 days later in a tiny ceremony in Provincetown, Mass.

"It's encouraging to see the laws changed in support of same-sex marriage," Carol U. said. But what changed their shared life was "saying my vows to Carol in front of all our family and all of our friends, saying how I really felt, and how important she is to me, and having everybody realize that."

"After 30 years, you can forget how much you love each other and why," Carol S. said. "Writing our vows about why I love her and why I wanted to marry her, and saying it in front of everybody, renewed a lot of those feelings."

A bargain: A birthday-party and wedding rolled into one. The evites said: "Carol's turning 60, and she finally said yes!"

The splurge: Renting a yacht.

Two and a half weeks in Massachusetts.

Officiant

The Rev. Florence Gelo, Unitarian Universalist minister, Philadelphia; and the Rev. Kate Wilkinson, Unitarian Universalist Meeting House of Provincetown, Provincetown, Mass.

Venue

Freedom Elite yacht, www.EntertainmentCruises.com

Catering

Provided by Freedom Elite

Photography

Jeremiah Page, Philadelphia

Music

DJ Frosty, Philadelphia

Dresses

Ordered online from Hilo Hattie, www.hilohattie.com

Flowers

Hawaii Flower Lei, www.HawaiiFlowerLei.com

Invitations

evites

Wedding planners

Carol S.'s sister and brother-in-law, Randee and Mike; Ally Ferigione with Freedom Elite