It’s done. A two-year journey, culminating in a big party and the priceless addition of a daughter. A big party. A great party, preceded by a beautiful and brief ceremony given by my brother, my friend, and uncle to my sons, J. He was wonderful; funny, charming, eloquent and nervous.
The Matron of Honor, the unsung hero of this whole endeavor, gave a touching, funny speech. She was poised and confident, eliciting tears and laughs. I must admit I loved it and was a little resentful that the bar wasn’t being lowered.
My Daughter-In-Law’s father then played a couple songs on his guitar. They were beautiful and that dude can really play. I was pleased, touched, and chagrined.
My younger son, the Best Man, whose nerves and anxieties about giving a speech resulted in near zombification, did a marvelous, epic job. He delivered such a speech that failure on my part was practically ensured. My cousin M, sitting near where I was pacing and sweating, leaned back and whispered to me as YS finished his speech, “You’re f%^ked.”
Here’s the thing though. Without telling most people, I’d prerecorded a speech, and you can watch it here. I’ve been asked a few times why I was nervous about showing a recorded speech. It’s easy to explain: I wasn’t afraid I’d screwed up the delivery, I was nervous about how it’d land on an audience. I was nervous that in trying to take the focus off myself and what was sure to be a dumpster fire, I’d instead put the focus squarely on myself by doing something unusual, maybe even selfish. I’m pleased that it was received well.
My son and his new wife were beautiful, and happy. The food was great, the dance was better, and seeing so many people there that mean so much to me was a joyful, humbling, and exhausting experience.
I’m trying now to compile the whole experience. The images, the artifacts, the detritus of this THING. I want it all to be preserved and documented. I want to remember the things I’ve learned. For instance…
If you’re the Father of The Groom, and you walk too close to the bar, someone will hand you a drink. What drink that is will depend on certain criteria: Age of the provider, familiarity of the provider, sobriety of the provider, what song is currently being played, and whether or not you’ve already got a drink in your hand. If you do, you will be handed a shot. If the provider is young, familiar, and sober, it’ll be a cocktail. If the same provider is no longer sober, and “Chicken Fry” is playing, it’ll be a beer. There’s a larger lesson here, I just can’t decipher it. Other than “Chicken Fry” is a trash song and too many people in my life love it.
I discovered a weird, low-level guilt. I’m first going to explain that I know this is stupid. Empirically, historically, emotionally stupid. But here it is; for a couple months, I’ve felt a little guilt. My kid asks his girlfriend to marry him, and now all my friends and family have to go somewhere? Have to do some shit? I know, it’s stupid. So stupid that it makes me irritated. When my friends are getting married, or one of their kids is getting married, of course I’ll go and be overjoyed to do so. Of course I’ll volunteer to help, and be overjoyed to do so. But there it is. Stupid.
In most cases, weddings are hard. You don’t start the process by hoping to make them difficult. You start by wanting to minimize effort, money, and time. It’s a fool’s errand. Whether a thing for the wedding is easy or hard, takes a lot of time or a little, is immaterial. It’s still a thing that needs doing. It’s still a thing on a list that refuses to stop growing. It’s very much like starting a business, with all the same details. But this business will only exist for one day.
After the wedding I was tired. She and I were tired. All the way to our centers of gravity. Tired in our bones. Slept for two days straight tired. I didn’t expect that.
I also learned that I have a new day to include in my Great Days Catalog. We’ve all got that catalog, the memory of certain days. Core days, foundational days. Some of those days are awful, some of them are quietly monumental, some of them are just days that changed you. And some are Great Days. October 22nd was a Great Day.
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