Toast

Some of my regular readers (pauses to laugh at the idea I have "regular readers") may know my beautiful daughter got married to her longtime boyfriend this past weekend. Needless to say, I got unexpectedly choked up. It was a complete waterworks show—a tear-filled event.

And that was just writing the check for the venue.

Ponying up for the day is just one of the traditions the Father of the Bride is required to abide by before and during the big day. The wedding toast is another one.

There are basically five steps to every FOB toast.

The welcome. Thank everyone for taking the time and making the effort to come. You know how you feel about traveling to a wedding on a perfectly good Saturday. They feel the same way and they still made the trip. Thank them all. Even the ones you wish hadn’t.

A story about the bride. Here the FOB has to tread lightly. There are a lifetime of stories to choose from, and while you may find the truly memorable ones amusing there’s a fifty-fifty chance she’ll find them embarrassing. Memory is funny that way. Choose accordingly.

A story about the groom. You know when he entered the picture, how he treats your daughter and what he’s like. My now son-in-law is an awesome person and I couldn’t be happier my daughter chose him. You may not be as lucky. But, and being a husband you already know this, what you think doesn’t matter. It’s her day, and he’s the one she’s riding off into the sunset with. Toughen up cupcake. Make sure you have nothing but good things to say, even if you don’t.

Welcome the groom and his family to your family. Do I think even though birthdays, Christmas and Thanksgiving will get a lot more crowded you should be excited about your new extended family, and go in expecting nothing but the best? I do.

Words of wisdom. Your daughter and her betrothed are entering into an arrangement you’ve been in for years. Have you learned nothing in all that time? Unlikely. Find some words of wisdom to pass on to the happy couple. The good news is they don’t even have to be your words. Movie quotes are a good way to go. I'd stay away from "You're gonna need a bigger boat" and "Make him an offer he can't refuse." I went with one from Good Will Hunting. Not the one about apples, the one that says "The guy doesn't have to be perfect, and the girl doesn't have to be perfect. As long as they're perfect for each other." Sweet, amIrite?

If you’re looking for a little inspiration, and trust me, I’m the last person you should ever be looking to for that, but if you are then maybe this will help.

Here’s how I started my FOB toast.

”Thank you all for coming. You know, when I started thinking about this toast, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, several words came to me right away. Beautiful. Strong. Independent. Funny. Talented. Courageous. But then I thought, this shouldn’t be about me, this is her day."

You’re welcome.

Conflict

I'll keep it short tonight for a couple of reasons. One is I have to travel early tomorrow. The other is I feel like I've visited this well a little too often and you, dear reader, may be yearning for another subject.

To which I say, see the "Next Blog" link at the top left there? Have at it. My blog, my subject.

And tonight's subject, as you can probably tell already, is conflict.

My son leaves for college tomorrow. On one hand, I couldn't be more proud and excited for him as he starts this next season of his life. Not to get too Seussian, but oh the places he'll go. The adventures he'll have. The friends he'll make. It will be rewarding for him in ways neither of us can even imagine.

On the other hand, my baby boy is leaving home. For eighteen years I've lived with him and quite frankly I don't know how to live without him. If you follow me on Facebook, you know I posted a link to an article Rob Lowe wrote about sending his son to college. He absolutely nails it. The experience is as joyous as it is heartbreaking.

I've tried, and admittedly done a lousy job, to keep a game face around him (my son, not Rob Lowe). I don't want him to feel like he can't leave me because I'll be reduced to a blubbering puddle of tears. Which I will, but he doesn't have to see it.

Anyway, tonight's post has been brought to you by Vent. Vent, when you just need to ramble on about it.

On a personal note, I know he doesn't read every single thing I post on here (thank God). But James, if you're reading this one, pack this in your suitcase: I love you and have always loved you more than either of us will ever know. You're more talented in more ways than any hundred people I know. And your heart is bigger than the state you're moving to - and that's saying something. I know I've told you already, but I just can't seem to stop saying it: I'm beyond proud, and can't wait to see the great things I know you're going to accomplish. You done good.

I like to think it's good parenting.

My Jesus moment

It was a genuine turn-the-other-cheek moment.

Yesterday I took my son and daughter to see the new movie Thor. If you've seen the lead actor in the ads, you know he's tanned and has long blonde hair.

I call him Malibu Thor.

And if you've seen me, you know how incredibly similar Thor and I are built. I swear, during the scene where he had his shirt off it was like looking in the mirror.

But I digress.

Anyway, we cut it close getting to the theater in time, but were lucky enough to get three seats just a couple steps up the stadium-seating theater. I sat on the aisle.

At some point early on in the movie, I noticed a father with a young baby in his arms come down and stand in the hallway to the theater, just the other side of the rail for the stairs up to the seats. After a little while, his baby started banging on the rail, and frankly the reverberation of the metal every time his kid hit it wasn't enhancing the soundtrack in the slightest.

After letting this go on for a longer time than was reasonable, I leaned over to the dad and politely asked in a whisper if he could stop his baby from banging the rail. With that, he turned to me, bouncing his baby in his arms, and said, loudly, "He's just a kid man. F&#k you!"

Needless to say, not the response I was expecting.

Two things immediately went through my mind: first, it's going to be interesting to hear baby's first words when he's old enough to speak. Second, since I had my kids next to me, and they (and most of the theater) heard the entire exchange, this might be an excellent teaching/learning moment for them.

So instead of engaging this moron, I just kind of laughed it off and returned to watching Malibu Thor. When I did this, I noticed that he retreated back a bit, and moved his baby out of banging range of the rail. He didn't say another word to me, and stood there for the entire film, scared his baby was going to start crying in the theater.

Personally, I don't see why. What is it about seeing an ear-shattering, violent movie about the warrior Norse God of Thunder that would make an 8-month old baby cry?

When I got up to go to the bathroom and walked right by them, I realized I had about 60 lbs. on the guy. He saw me get up, and took a step back as I came around to pass him. When the movie ended, his wife came down from wherever she was sitting, and they quickly left without giving me another glance.

Now, I work in advertising. Believe me it's not the first time I've been F-bombed. But I was proud of myself for going completely against my true nature and not engaging with the guy.

Like I said, a genuine turn-the-other-cheek moment.

By doing so, I had returned the compliment without ever having to say it.

Plus my kids got to see that you don't have to engage every asshole who comes at you.

So all and all, an interesting and educational afternoon at the movies.

Of course, if I'm being honest with myself - which I so rarely do because where's the upside in that - I know if my kids weren't with me, this is probably the Jesus I would have followed.