Wedding
Maybe I’m weird, but I enjoy weddings. I’m a guy, so I’m not really supposed to enjoy weddings, but I do anyway. I enjoy seeing the flowers. I enjoy seeing everyone in their best clothes and jewelry. I like eating a meal off of imported chinaware with polished silver. Perhaps it is a crass thought to have about weddings, but I think I like them because they give me a chance to feel like I’m rich.
My brother got married on Sunday in Seattle, and I was his best man. The wedding went smoothly. My brother and I had our matching tuxedos. I loaned him a pocketwatch and properly fluffed his handkerchief. I even made sure that the tuxedo place gave us real bow ties instead of the clip-on variety they foist off on high school guys going to the prom. My brother had rented a ship to sail around the harbor in Seattle, and arranged for the captain of the vessel to marry him and his wife.
My mother made the five-layered cake and decorated it with home-made frosting roses and vines. Even though it was delicious, I refrained from eating more than a single piece (and am trying desperately to not think about the quarter of the cake that is still sitting under plastic on the kitchen counter right now). I saw what went into that cake and all I can say is that 16 pounds of powdered sugar has got to be diabetes in cake form.
The wedding was arranged to take place on the top deck of the ship (which had no roof over it) and the reception on the lower deck (which was inside). True to form, though, Seattle’s weather forecast predicted rain. Fortunately, the weathermen all got it wrong and the day was sunny and clear… mostly.
It was clear while we loaded up the ship. It was clear while we boarded the guests. It was clear while we seated everyone. It was clear while I escorted in the grandparents and parents of the bride and groom. As soon as my brother took his place at the front of the ship, though, it began to rain. People always joke about how much it rains in Seattle, but they usually envision something far different from what actually occurs. While it does rain on quite a large number of days, rain in Seattle is really more like morning or afternoon sprinkle showers. Seattle rarely sees rain in the manner to which I am accustomed, where you can get an inch or two of rain in a single storm. Instead, it simply gets nearly perpetual sprinkles.
Sunday’s rain in Seattle was different. Sunday’s rain was quite a bit like the kind of rain to which I am accustomed. It was pouring out of the sky as if to bring a little bit of Kansas greeting to a chilly Northwestern wedding. So my brother and his bride said their vows in the pouring rain, smiling and laughing while the maid of honor and I held up umbrellas over them. The ceremony was short (~5-10 minutes) and before we had all walked downstairs to the reception area, the rain had completely stopped and it was sunny and clear again.
My brother had made it pretty easy for me to be the best man. Traditionally, as I understand it, the best man has only a few responsibilities. The best man stands by the groom while he makes his vows, holds onto the ring until the wedding, plans the bachelor party, and makes a toast at the reception. Well, my brother didn’t feel as if he needed someone to hold onto a ring for him, and he planned his own bachelor party (which involved a bunch of people getting really crazy (by which, I mean that we got ice cream, rode some amusement park rides near the space needle, and saw a laser show). All that left for me was the symbolic gesture of standing up front at the wedding, and making a toast. Since the first was easy, I thought I probably ought to see that the second was something to remember.
When I put my mind to it, I can be a good orator. I’m made for public speaking. I’m proud to say that my toast at the reception actually reduced a few people to tears, and I had nearly half of the wedding guests come up to me afterwards before we docked and tell me that they thought the toast was every bit as lovely as the wedding ceremony itself.
This is what I said:
“Over the past few days, as I have observed the circus of preparation for this day, a few words have been playing through my mind. William Shakespeare famously wrote that “All the world is a stage, and the people on it, simply players.” When I woke this morning, the strength of those words became more clear to me than ever before. Each and every person here today, whether old or young, rich or poor, participant or witness, has a life story to tell to the world. We are all the authors of our own narratives and our tales include hope and fear, courage and despair, love, pain, and joy. Today, we have witnessed two people, each with their own personal and individual stories, pledge to co-author additional chapters in their lives. Marcus and Wendi? Write each other’s lives carefully and well. I raise my glass, and ask you all to do the same, to the beginning of a memorable chapter and all of the compelling ones to come.”
Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
Once the toasts were done, we had two hours to mingle and wander the boat. A friend of my brother pointed out to me the home of Bill Gates (which sits right by the water just out from Seattle a little way), and also the houseboat where the movie Sleepless in Seattle was filmed. I think the captain of the boat really got a kick out of performing a wedding as well. He was actually younger than both my brother and I, and it was the first wedding that he’d ever gotten to officiate. Apart from a minor snafu as we left the ship (a wedding card blew into Lake Union in a gust of wind, but we fished it out with an umbrella and the help of four people dangling someone off of the pier) the wedding went off without a hitch.
The best part of all? I now have two sisters. One who is just about my own age, who has promised to teach me Arabic (she’s nearly fluent now) and another who is just finishing up the 2nd grade and can be summed up by the word ‘adorable.’ I’m not fond of babies (all of that pudgy skin, the gigantic heads, oozes coming out of every orifice…), but once they get up to the age where my new little sister is, children can be fantastically cute when they put their minds to it. And now, I’ve got a little sister of my own to spoil rotten with ice cream trips, games of mousetrap, and surprise stuffed animals. Awesome.
My brother got married on Sunday in Seattle, and I was his best man. The wedding went smoothly. My brother and I had our matching tuxedos. I loaned him a pocketwatch and properly fluffed his handkerchief. I even made sure that the tuxedo place gave us real bow ties instead of the clip-on variety they foist off on high school guys going to the prom. My brother had rented a ship to sail around the harbor in Seattle, and arranged for the captain of the vessel to marry him and his wife.
My mother made the five-layered cake and decorated it with home-made frosting roses and vines. Even though it was delicious, I refrained from eating more than a single piece (and am trying desperately to not think about the quarter of the cake that is still sitting under plastic on the kitchen counter right now). I saw what went into that cake and all I can say is that 16 pounds of powdered sugar has got to be diabetes in cake form.
The wedding was arranged to take place on the top deck of the ship (which had no roof over it) and the reception on the lower deck (which was inside). True to form, though, Seattle’s weather forecast predicted rain. Fortunately, the weathermen all got it wrong and the day was sunny and clear… mostly.
It was clear while we loaded up the ship. It was clear while we boarded the guests. It was clear while we seated everyone. It was clear while I escorted in the grandparents and parents of the bride and groom. As soon as my brother took his place at the front of the ship, though, it began to rain. People always joke about how much it rains in Seattle, but they usually envision something far different from what actually occurs. While it does rain on quite a large number of days, rain in Seattle is really more like morning or afternoon sprinkle showers. Seattle rarely sees rain in the manner to which I am accustomed, where you can get an inch or two of rain in a single storm. Instead, it simply gets nearly perpetual sprinkles.
Sunday’s rain in Seattle was different. Sunday’s rain was quite a bit like the kind of rain to which I am accustomed. It was pouring out of the sky as if to bring a little bit of Kansas greeting to a chilly Northwestern wedding. So my brother and his bride said their vows in the pouring rain, smiling and laughing while the maid of honor and I held up umbrellas over them. The ceremony was short (~5-10 minutes) and before we had all walked downstairs to the reception area, the rain had completely stopped and it was sunny and clear again.
My brother had made it pretty easy for me to be the best man. Traditionally, as I understand it, the best man has only a few responsibilities. The best man stands by the groom while he makes his vows, holds onto the ring until the wedding, plans the bachelor party, and makes a toast at the reception. Well, my brother didn’t feel as if he needed someone to hold onto a ring for him, and he planned his own bachelor party (which involved a bunch of people getting really crazy (by which, I mean that we got ice cream, rode some amusement park rides near the space needle, and saw a laser show). All that left for me was the symbolic gesture of standing up front at the wedding, and making a toast. Since the first was easy, I thought I probably ought to see that the second was something to remember.
When I put my mind to it, I can be a good orator. I’m made for public speaking. I’m proud to say that my toast at the reception actually reduced a few people to tears, and I had nearly half of the wedding guests come up to me afterwards before we docked and tell me that they thought the toast was every bit as lovely as the wedding ceremony itself.
This is what I said:
“Over the past few days, as I have observed the circus of preparation for this day, a few words have been playing through my mind. William Shakespeare famously wrote that “All the world is a stage, and the people on it, simply players.” When I woke this morning, the strength of those words became more clear to me than ever before. Each and every person here today, whether old or young, rich or poor, participant or witness, has a life story to tell to the world. We are all the authors of our own narratives and our tales include hope and fear, courage and despair, love, pain, and joy. Today, we have witnessed two people, each with their own personal and individual stories, pledge to co-author additional chapters in their lives. Marcus and Wendi? Write each other’s lives carefully and well. I raise my glass, and ask you all to do the same, to the beginning of a memorable chapter and all of the compelling ones to come.”
Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
Once the toasts were done, we had two hours to mingle and wander the boat. A friend of my brother pointed out to me the home of Bill Gates (which sits right by the water just out from Seattle a little way), and also the houseboat where the movie Sleepless in Seattle was filmed. I think the captain of the boat really got a kick out of performing a wedding as well. He was actually younger than both my brother and I, and it was the first wedding that he’d ever gotten to officiate. Apart from a minor snafu as we left the ship (a wedding card blew into Lake Union in a gust of wind, but we fished it out with an umbrella and the help of four people dangling someone off of the pier) the wedding went off without a hitch.
The best part of all? I now have two sisters. One who is just about my own age, who has promised to teach me Arabic (she’s nearly fluent now) and another who is just finishing up the 2nd grade and can be summed up by the word ‘adorable.’ I’m not fond of babies (all of that pudgy skin, the gigantic heads, oozes coming out of every orifice…), but once they get up to the age where my new little sister is, children can be fantastically cute when they put their minds to it. And now, I’ve got a little sister of my own to spoil rotten with ice cream trips, games of mousetrap, and surprise stuffed animals. Awesome.
posted by The Academian | 12:45 AM
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