5 December 2015, Richmond, Melbourne, Victoria
Aaron: 'My name is Aaron and I am today's best brother', for Alan and Michelle - 2013
2013, Canada
I have to go to the bathroom, so I'm going to keep this short. Following [Herb 00:00:15] is always a tough task, but I'll give it my best shot. A few months ago I was talking to Alan, and he's like, "I don't really want you to speak at my own wedding, but you're the only brother I have."
Here we are. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Aaron and I am today's best brother. I decided to enter the best brother sweepstakes instead of the best maiden sweepstakes because there is less competition. Michelle and Alan, it is an honour to stand up here today. I can't be more happy for you two.
So glad we could celebrate this day with so many friends and family from not only around this area, but from around the world. There's people from Quebec, Alberta, the States, there's even someone from Australia here. It's amazing how far some people will travel for a free meal.
Alan, I am honoured to be a part of this small army that you call a wedding party. That's the biggest table I've ever seen. When Alan said today would include a big party, I thought he was talking about the reception. I don't know which group is larger. Alan's groomsmen or Rita #'s pall bearers. Her music will live in my heart forever.
It's especially awesome that we are here today, considering Alan had kidney stones only a few days ago. For a short period time, there Alan was in quite a bit of pain and it looked as if today might not even happen. There was always a part of me, however, that knew the wedding was going to happen. I knew Alan would not let anything get in the way of him marrying Michelle. That and the fact that we are a Dutch family and everything had been paid for.
Let me tell you a little bit about my relationship with Alan. We met in the 80's. Back in a time when spam was simply canned meat. First I think Alan respected me because he would do courteous things for me, including giving me the top bunk. Within a few short years however, our brotherly rivalry intensified and Alan was already bigger than me. If you look at old family photos such as the one at table three, you guys can check it out after, Alan kind of looked like a child body builder and I looked like Janet never fed me. Even to this day, she's always like, "Alan needs his protein, Alan needs his protein." We just starve, I guess.
Because of Alan's physique, I avoided getting into physical confrontations with him. Instead I tried to outsmart him. My favourite tactic was giving him hard objects such as marbles and then standing in front of glass objects such as mirrors, windows, and pictures. I would then insult him, and he being kind of like a large dog not knowing his own strength, would hurl a marble at me. I would duck, the glass would break. I would love every second of it.
As the years went on though, I thought the rivalry was dying down and a possible friendship was beginning. I guess I was mistaken though. I received an email from Alan on my birthday one year. It said, "Happy Birthday, Mom made me send this." I won't make much more fun of Alan, though because (a), we all know he's been through enough pain already this week and (b), let's be honest, making fun of Alan is very hard to do.
That was kind of ... I may be the older brother, but Alan was and is so good at so many things. He has so many good qualities ... oops. Sorry. I was the one usually looking up to him. Because Alan is nearly perfect and doesn't make any mistakes, it really made it hard to come up with material for this speech. I need a better proofreader.
If it wasn't for the kidney stones, I'd be screwed.
There's a lot of qualities that Alan has. Whether it's his maturity, in grade school Alan was busy running a website business, most of his classmates were probably worrying about their voices changing and their hair growing out of weird places.
Whether it's Alan's toughness, the guy just peed out a rock, enough said. Did you keep that rock though? No I know you did. Alan told me yesterday, he actually went into the toilet with his hand and grabbed the stone. Alan usually doesn't wash his hands. As John Davis told me yesterday, I hope he did that time.
We're talking about Alan's qualities here. I got side tracked. Whether it's his compassion, he spends countless hours giving gathers with his Athletes in Action sports ministry, or as they call it, AIA. At first I misheard him though, I thought he said AA. Once he told me he was going to AA for the weekend, I'm like, "Alan I didn't know you drank."
Whether it's Alan's smarts, only Alan would be able to maintain a 90 average and still be cool. Or whether it's his athletic ability, his trophy collection was huge, always bigger than my seventh place ribbon collection.
There was and always is a reason to admire Alan. Many younger brothers learned from their older brothers, with Alan and I, it's the other way around.
But enough about Alan and his Nobel Peace Prizes. Today Alan is a married man. Today is about Alan and the love of his life, his MacBook Pro. In life there are people that procrastinate and leave everything to the last minute, like myself and this speech, and then there's Alan. You can look no further than the planning that went on for today. He actually had his wedding website up and running even before he met Michelle.
As Herb was mentioning, Alan likes to plan.
When we were younger, we called him 'the Plan Man'. He always planned ahead, thought things through, and organised his actions to achieve whatever his goal was at the time. The Plan Man thing started years ago, when Alan was about five or so. Christian, if you remember, we would watch him spend two hours making a sandwich, two seconds eating it. I wouldn't really call it making a sandwich though, it was more like designing a sandwich. He would lay all of the ingredients on the table, carefully place them on his bread. We knew from that point on the Plan Man was destined to be an engineer. I have no doubt that Alan's grand plan including sharing his life with a beautiful wife.
Michelle you look amazing today. Alan, you didn't even shave!
I'll never forget the day Alan got engaged. Partly because he video taped his proposal, he's a bit of a creep, and partly because he called me that day and Alan never calls me. When he calls, you know it's about something important. As soon as I picked up the phone, I could hear his voice. I've never heard Alan sound happier than he ever had before. I always tease him about how he shows off his engineering ring on his pinky finger. I can safely say though today, Alan is much more proud of his new ring, and even more proud to show off his new wife.
Michelle, ever since we met you, we knew you were a keeper. I particularly liked you from the start because you always laughed at my jokes, even though Alan would just shake his head and call me an idiot.
You are beautiful inside and out, kind, compassionate, genuine, smart, caring and most importantly, you make my brother happy in a way that I never could. These last few days have been tough with Alan's health, and Michelle, you have been there for him every step of the way.
Michelle, or should I say Mitch, welcome to the family.
There are many Michelles in this world, but there's only one Mitch. For those of you who don't know, our family calls Michelle, Mitch. Why? I have no idea. I think once I called her that and for some reason it stuck. I think Herb misunderstood me though, because he sometimes calls you Mitchell. Don't worry about that too much, he sometimes calls me Kayla.
I told Allan he should use Sylar. I went to pick up my tux the other day, they’re like, “Last name please”. I’m like, “Guduf”, they’re like, “Huh!” I went to the Bay to pick up a gift from the registry they’re like, “Last name please.” I’m like, “Guduf”, they’re like, “Huh!” These are the struggles you will have to deal with on a daily basis.
I’m fully confident though that you will thrive being Gudufed. Allan and Michelle, I wish you two all the best in your life together. I love you both. Mom made me say that.
So I don’t have a glass but let’s all raise a glass to the most important people here, the bar staff. To Allan and Michelle. Thank you, I’m going to go hug them and then I can go to the bathroom.
Jamie Carter: 'As usual, Chris and Paul's contest was stupid', for brother Chris and Lauren's wedding - 2011
22 October, 2011, Palm Springs, USA
IS there a cuter, happier, more perfectly suited couple than Chris and Lauren? The consensus that I've been hearing from San Diego and Melbourne is that there is not.
It's a great love story. A very American love story. Chris "The immigrant" leaves the place of his birth in search of his dream girl, and he finds her in America
Of course, if Chris decides to steal Lauren back to Australia, this story becomes a little bit more Scandinavian Viking love story, but either way, there's something in our family histories being played out in the story of Chris and Lauren.
But I think, at its heart, this is really an American love story. And I say that because the force that brought Chris and Lauren together is so quintessentially American, its the same force that did so much to shape America's greatness.
No, I'm not talking about the right to bear arms, that would be a little weird . . . what I'm talking about is competition. Competition, and the quest to succeed, brought Chris and Lauren together.
My little brother is competitive. He's always been that way. He likes to win things. Our older brother Paul is also competitive, and these two would compete over anything: football, tennis, golf, whatever, until someone, typically Chris, would have an exorcist-type meltdown, and the whole affair would end in tears.
Me, being the well...adjusted middle brother, typically decided that these competitions were stupid, and I would chose not to compete. But their contests weren't always frivolous, for example there was that time they competed over who had more friends; a definite high point in their attempts to out-do each other.
The only way to settle this argument, suggested the Harvard Graduate, was to write down on a piece of paper the names of all their friends and then count them out. Which they did.
Not surprisingly, I thought this competition was stupid, and decided not to compete.
The argument turned from ridiculous to farcical when they stopped even writing down last names, and it became a contest of who could write down the most words that could conceivably be used as a name.
But what's this competitive drive got to do with Chris and Lauren? Why do I tell you these stories? Partly to make both my brothers look daft, but more importantly it's to make you aware of what you're witnessing today, to put it in its appropriate historical context.
You.see, this marriage of Chris to Lauren is the culmination of a 12 year competition between Chris and his older brother Paul to see who could marry the most perfect bride.
Here's a little background: 12 years ago my older brother Paul announces to the family that he was to wed the beautiful and smart Wendy Govic. To most of the family the announcement was a moment of joyous celebration. But to Chris it was an act of provocation and a challenge.
Chris accepted this "challenge" and set out to find his bride.
Me, I decided that this competition was stupid, and have decided not to compete.
Chris searched Melbourne, he searched Brighton, England, he briefly searched New York but quickly realized that he was way out of his league, and then he settled in San Diego.
And it was there that he met Lauren. Lauren and Chris dated, and then Chris triumphantly announced their engagement.
But did he win? How do you even judge such a contest?
I think we need to look at their relationship. How happy are they? How suited are they?
Anyone who spends any time with Chris and Lauren know these questions are nonsensical. If's obvious that Chris and Lauren are perfectly suited and very much in love.
Plato, that old Greek philosopher wrote a whole book on love and relationships, and in it he speaks of a myth where at the beginning of time the gods split our natural selves in half, and that love is our pursuit to find our other half; it's our desire for wholeness.
I'm not totally sold on this idea, after all Plato also thought that the highest form of romantic love was between an old man and a young adolescent boy. . . so basically, Plato was a weirdo, but I do like that idea of finding someone who so perfectly complements us, and it just fits, and I think we see that in Chris and Lauren.
But while Plato might have just missed the mark, I think the tv show Dexter might have captured the essence of Chris and Lauren's connection a little better. For those whodon't know the show, it tells the story of a homicidal serial killing maniac who likes to cut people up with knives.
Wait, stay with me. . .
Season 3, episode 10, two key characters finally profess their love for each other with this simple exchange:
"I love you, you're the best thing that's ever hapenned to me. You're like a shot of adrenaline" to which the other lover responds with "I love you too, you're like a hit of Valium"
I thought of Chris and Lauren when I saw that scene. Chris and Lauren are different people, with different natures, but I can't imagine two people who could be more perfectly suited.
Chris brings to their relationship his extraordinary energy and sense of fun, and Lauren also brings her sense of fun but with it her laid back kind-heartedness. Together they're amazing.
It's that "yin and yang" thing, the masculine nature and the feminine nature, molded together perfectly. On the one side you have the less rational and emotional nature, likes to gossip with the girls, loves to shop, always up with the latest female fashions, likes to sing and dance to Katy Perry.
And then you have Lauren.
Lauren, the calm voice of reason. Lauren the stable rock. Lauren who doesn't take herself too seriously, and who's always quick with an adorable smile when Chris is about lose his marbles.
Its difficult for me to put into words just how wonderful I think Lauren is. The words will come out sounding cliche in a speech like this, but I couldn't mean them more sincerely.
Her sweet warm-hearted nature, combined with her great sense of fun and humor make~ her a truly unique and lovely person. She is the perfect partner to my brother, and I already love her dearly as a sister.
Our family had the pleasure of meeting the West|ands family the other night for dinner. It was lovely for us to see the sense of affection and fun between their family. It's easy to see where Lauren's values and nature comes from, and it makes sense that she bonded so quickly withour family.
I mentioned my brother's competitive spirit, but a better word to describe Chris would simply be spirit. My brother is one spiriteded individual. People love to be around him.
But his sense of fun is matched by his sense of loyalty and protectiveness. Chris will take wonderfully good care of Lauren, but he will also show her a wonderfully good time, and it's hard to imagine a better combination in a husband.
And if's hard to imagine a better brother. Paul, stay quiet, this is between me and Chris.
I've never seen Chris so happy. He hasn't lost any of his energy or spirit, but a certain calmness has come over him, and for that Lauren, our family thanks you!!
Just like Chris' many friends, 1 just love being around the boy. I feel incredibly lucky to have him as a close friend and a brother; knowing that we have a life of family holidays and gatherings to look forward to makes me incredibly happy.
So, wrapping up, I guess my point is this. As usual Chris and Paul's contest was stupid. Wendy was the perfect bride, Lauren is the perfect bride, and now I have two perfect sisters
But as for a winner, if you want to know who wins, if's me, 1 win. Because my family was great, but today it just got a whole lot better!
Welcome to the family Lau Lau.
Source: youtu.be/Y2pVF4kouYg
Matt O'Boyle: 'He saw her in Supermacs one cold night' song for brother Sean & Caroline - 2015
8 June 2015, Cabra Castle, Kingscourt, Co Cavan, Ireland
Here's a song written by me,
Of how these two came to be together,
Stuck together forever,
From kissing in class to I love you,
From kickin' his arse to saying I do,
Sean & Caroline,
This ones for you.
Let's go from the start way back when
These two met in NUIM Kildare,
Where all the magic happens,
He saw her in Supermacs one cold night,
He said Jesus you're one's a bit of alright,
I'll give her a go,
And what do you know,
They shared a class, Mathematics,
It's just as well, 'cause they're a pair of thicks,
She said, Help me Sean I'm gonna fail this thing,
He said, Not to worry, my dad's the maths king,
So off they went on study dates with Dad,
(It wasn't that weird --ok, maybe a tad),
Who didn't Caroline, she could've been a drug dealer,
She wanted to go somewhere romantic and fair,
Don't worry Babe, we'll go to Ingar,
It's totes romantic,
We're right beside the cinema,
(Five euro deals on Wednesdays).
Her heart was full -- she'd never fall for another,
Apart for maybe the sexy younger brother,
Who knows?
But I'm relieved to be here on their wedding day,
'Cause I honestly thought Sean may have been gay,
Hear me out,
You might think, No. Not him,
But you haven't seen how he looks at Jim.
You've caught her now,
Thank God you didn't miss her,
I'd like to say thanks for the cool new sister,
This is the end of my speech and song,
I hope it didn't drag on for all that long,
So we'll raise a glass to Him and Her,
And wish them the best for their future,
Congratulations guys.
John & Patrick: 'We’d like to conclude by saying that we think our brother Sean represents the bargain of a lifetime' for Sean and Rebecca - 2014
Joint Best Man speech at the wedding of Sean and Rebecca
[Note: John is Sean’s older brother. Patrick and Sean are twins.]
JOHN: Thanks, Isabelle. When, a few weeks back, Patrick and I asked Sean what he’d like us to speak about today, he said that he just wanted us to do a simple introduction of him to all of you here, but especially those of you on Rebecca’s side of the fence. So we are going to talk about 2 or 3 of Sean’s main qualities. I’m thinking of it as basically a Sales pitch to Rebecca’s family. As his older brother, I suppose I am well placed to do that. But Patrick here knows Sean very well – their relationship stretches all the way back to when they shared a home in a single, fertilized egg in 1974 – so I’ll let him start.
PATRICK: I think the first thing that occurred to me when we started thinking about Sean’s qualities was his longstanding fascination with beauty. I guess that’s probably pretty evident in his choice of bride today [GESTURE AND SLIGHT PAUSE] but it actually stretches all the way back to when he was a little boy growing up on the mean streets of Kew, often happily dressed in a heavily sequined bright red velvet magician’s outfit. This love of his for glittery and beautiful things was reinforced around the time we were in kindergarten when Mum and Dad found a small rash on Sean’s chest and carted us all off to a pediatrician. The doctor asked Sean to hop up on the examining table and whip off his denim overalls – this was the 1970’s – and when Sean undid his bib and out poured a thick wad of colored lolly wrappers, tightly bundled against the skin of Sean’s chest. Sean – ever the eye for beauty – had been busily collecting the glittering wrappers out of the gutters, ashtrays and bins of Melbourne and, unsurprisingly, had developed a rash doing so. Beauty is pain. Mum was understandably embarrassed.
JOHN: No introduction to Sean’s key characteristics would be complete without some mention of his legendary ability to lose or forget things. Pat and I thought about some of the things Sean has lost, missed or forgotten in quite recent years:
PATRICK: Six months of a Masters thesis research in a pub one night.
JOHN: Any footwear other than a pair of thongs for a two-week trip around Ireland in the middle of the Northern winter.
PATRICK: A plane to Bali.
JOHN: Countless mobile phones
PATRICK: The home phone at Kew!
JOHN: Film in the camera when he was the official family photographer for Phoebe’s graduation.
PATRICK: And half a little finger somewhere on Footscray Hockey ground.
[PAUSE]
JOHN: Leaving aside his forgetfulness, and more seriously, Sean has a real love of family. He was always happy as a kid to play dud roles in our family plays - I think he was a soldier in our crucifixion play - and share bedrooms, back car seats and sometimes even his name with Pat. In more recent years, he’s relished welcoming visitors to his and Rebecca’s and home in Woodend – usually fresh from mowing the lawn, and dressed, even in the winter months, in a pair of old short shorts and a wifebeater (can you say wifebeater in a speech at a wedding? I mean a faded blue singlet). Our sister Claire put it most eloquently when we asked her what she thought about Sean’s nature and she said that his inner child was alive and well. That is unquestionably true – if any of you saw Sean dressed as a magic carpet at Ruby’s 5th birthday party earlier this year – as happy as I have ever seen him even when the skies opened up and we were all drenched – you would know that he is man who can see the world through a child’s eye and who loves being a dad.
PATRICK: So, if this is a Sales pitch, I guess we’d like to conclude by saying that we think our brother Sean represents the bargain of a lifetime. He comes with proven family experience and - going on the vows I heard earlier in the Church today – apparently a lifetime guarantee. We recommend him to you, Rebecca, and would like to propose a toast to you both – so please be upstanding [WAIT FOR EVERYONE TO STAND] - to the bride and groom.
Luke: 'He has taught my children to snorkel', for Hamish and Isabelle - 2013
7.15pm INTRODUCTION AND HOUSEKEEPING
For those of you who - unlike all of my uncles – have shown some restraint and held off on getting started on the charcuterie, please feel free to hop in. You are meant to begin.
I think now is an opportune moment to give you an overview of the proceedings is evening: in brief, until about 9pm we will be eating with some speeches between courses and then, after a cutting of the cake and what I am sure will be an incredible bridal waltz display from Hamish (and Isabelle), there is going to be dancing and drinks until 11 when the liquor license expires. That’s the very short version of how this evening is going to run. It would surprise none of you to learn that Isabelle and Hamish have actually planned everything to a much higher level of detail than that, and if any of you would like to understand any aspect to the minutest level please see me and I can walk you through the multiple spreadsheets (version 1 through to 6), programs and timetables generated over the past 6 months. You may need to be a certified project manager to understand it all.
Anyway, I see from the timetable that I am already 27 seconds over time, and the next item is a very important one. If you would all please stand. Ladies and Gentlemen, please join me in welcoming the bride and groom……
[Isabelle and Hamish enter]
7.20pm SPEECHES
Our first speech this evening comes from Claire. Claire and her husband, Jim, became very close friends with Hamish and Isabelle when they moved to Sydney about 5 years ago. Claire also worked at XXXX with Isabelle. I think it is a testament to the strength of the friendship that developed between them that, when Jim and Claire eloped to get married a few years ago, they asked Hamish and Isabelle along as their sole witnesses. I think eloping is tremendously romantic. It did occur to me however that some people elope because they can’t bear the idea of having to do wedding speeches. I do very much hope Claire isn’t one of those people.
7.55pm (after entrée) SPEECHES - BEST MAN
Our next speaker this evening is Harry, Hamish’ brother. Harry is speaking in his capacity both as best man and on behalf of Hamish’ family. So he’s doubly special.
Like Hamish, Isabelle and my brothers and my Dad, Harry is a hockey player – though I must say that among males in my family that really just involves intermittent appearances in the “mean streets” of the lowest grade suburban hockey while for Harry and [GRROM] it meant state representative teams and national indoor sides.
Harry also shares the characteristic of some Smith males – and I’m thinking about both my brothers – of not being quite so concerned or worried about organisation as the bride and groom. I wasn’t able to attend the bux day last weekend but was delighted to learn that – despite arranging the day – Harry managed to be an hour late. And to go to the wrong venue. I think that this is good news for Isabelle and Hamish though - in my limited experience, shared frustrations about your broader family is one of the secret keys to a healthy relationship – nothing promotes more communication like a common complaint - so I’m delighted that Isabelle and Hamish have years of complaining their pedantic hearts out to each other to look forward to.
Anyway, without further ado, the very best man, Harry….
8.30pm (after mains) SPEECHES - PARENTS OF THE BRIDE
The next speakers are my parents, Chris and Peter.
I know that sometimes parents have reservations about the people that their children choose to marry. I can assure you that is not the case with Hamish. My father in fact was so keen to bring Hamish into our family fold that – more than 15 years ago – he actually paid a young teenage Hamish to give him one-on-one hockey lessons at Hawthorn hockey ground. At least I think he paid him for the hockey lessons – perhaps it was an early dowry. Mum and Dad are very, very happy with Hamish.
As many of you know, Isabelle is, by a number of years, the youngest in the Smith family. Dad often corrects the misconception that she was a late mistake by telling people that she was his only planned child. I think that because she was a fair bit younger than the rest of us, Isabelle developed a very special bond with Mum and Dad when she was little. And, on a serious note, I know that this is a very emotional and happy day from Mum and Dad. But I’ll hand over to them now…
8.40pm SPEECHES - BRIDE AND GROOM
So, we come to the final speeches, the bride and groom. I won’t delay too much but I do want to want to say just add couple of things about these two.
The first is that it feels a little odd to be welcoming Hamish into our family as he’s been an important part of it for quite a while now. You heard from Freya earlier about how much he and Isabelle are part of the lives of my children and those of my nieces and nephew. He has taught my children to snorkel, to juggle and even from the earliest days he has thrown himself into family celebrations: when he and Isabelle had just started seeing each other he came dressed to a fairy-themed 4th birthday party as an extremely convincing green elf and - only two nights ago - he was at our house helping stain and burn the edges of birthday invitations to a Harry Potter themed 10th birthday party.
And I think this shows that, despite high successful, busy people, Isabelle and Hamish share a wonderful ability to throw out all the pressure and stresses of day to day living and focus on the really important things in life: their relationship with each other and the people they love. I am enormously proud of my little sister’s kindness, compassion and capacity to love. I’m delighted that she has found in Hamish such a wonderful friend and partner. I wish them all the best in their lives together.
Anyway, nothing more from me. Ladies and gentlemen….the bride and groom.
9.00pm Cutting of the cake and bridal waltz
10.45pm Announce license expires at 11pm / last drinks/ Isabelle and Hamish leaving shortly
11.15pm Announce bus departure
Tony Wilson: 'Game, set, match Ned and Olivia' - 2010
9 January, 2010, Red Hill, Victoria, Australia
Thank you Harvey for that lovely introduction.
Ladies and gentleman, hello and welcome, what an amazing afternoon and evening for us to share with Olivia and Ned.
For those who don’t know me, I’m Ned’s older brother Tony, and the fact that I’m here as Best Man today should give hope to any nine year old kid who gets boxing gloves for Christmas, and who keeps the right glove for himself while offering the left to his younger brother by four and a half years for a bit of ‘sparring’. Recalling Ned that day, as he lay on the deck, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, I remember thinking to myself — I’m probably pretty long odds to be Best Man at his wedding — and yet, I never gave up. And now here I am. Best man. Better than you Weeksy. Better than you Dan. Better than all of you out there. Chosen because, as we found out in that flyweight classic back n 1981, blood flows thicker than water.
(And also because Willy was out of town)
It’s such a great pleasure to be here on such a beautiful night. The bridesmaids, Sally, Sarah and Arbie, have been wonderful. And given we’re on a tennis court, let’s see if we can give the bridesmaids’ toast an appropriate flavour, so if you can please be upstanding and raise you glasses and repeat after me …
Game, set, match, Ned and Olivia,
Thank you bridesmaids, thank you ballboys.
You’ll also note that Ned and Olivia have taken great care with the seating arrangements. Again, there’s been a tennisy theme. And so if you look down, it basically works the same way as tennis. If you’re seated inside the singles court, well done, you were first choice invitees and your spot at the wedding never in doubt. If you’re seated inside the doubles lines, um, congratulations … you got there in the end. And if you’re outside the court proper … well,. this is a very big wedding, and after the RSVPs rolled in … anyway, you’re all here now, and it’s an absolute joy to see so many friends and family.
On the line is in, by the way.
In some respects, we’re a little fortunate that Ned made it all the way to today to marry this special person. A best man should never mention previous girlfriends, and so I won’t … by name … but I will say that my brother, with his own wonderful ability to sum up a situation hilariously and in the fewest words possible, said of one previous flame: — ‘Yes, I may have dodged a bullet there.’
From a personal perspective, I’m glad he got here with body intact. When he was three and I was nearly eight, me and two friends developed a game on our Olympic sized trampoline called ‘quadruple bouncing’. Basically, what it involved was four friends (or three friends and an infant) holding hands, and on the count of three, everyone performing ‘a sit’. Of course just before we did that sit, we’d use our hands to lift tiny unsuspecting Ned that fraction of a metre higher … and well you actually can’t imagine the results.
The first time he laughed … he really did. He disappeared up into the branches of the lilly pilly, nine or ten metres above us, about as high as the top diving board at the Balwyn baths. The next time, we must have unbalanced him slightly, and he didn’t hit his sit quite right, and so it was with considerable concern that we watched him shoot off at 45 degrees, straight over the back fence, just a tiny human cannonball arcing into the ditch that ran beside our house in Belmont Park. And you know what made me proud … that little fella tried so hard not to cry. He so wanted to be brave in front of the big boys.
And you know what made me even prouder? Three years later I look out on the trampoline, and there he is with Dan and John Besley, holding hands with little Pippa, telling her ‘now on the count of three, we want you to do a sit … ‘
There were so many other great games. Olympics … Ned was a tireless competitor … but I made the medals and did the handicapping … and won a fair few events it must be said … Screamers … I offered up my back and Ned and his mates would film themselves taking species … … We did marbles racing … Basically I’d set up courses down the stairs and race marbles over the distance. I was the bookmaker, the starter and the steward. Ned, Dan Besley and Hugh Taggart were the punters, and they all loved a huge, murky chipped old see-through tom bowler called Junk. Junk was always backed into favouritism, just in front of a classier, newer looking Birdcage called Big Bluey. Hugh Taggart loved Junk and Big Bluey so much that he wrote a Uni essay about how marbles racing taught him about gambling. Now he’s the head of some division of Betfair in Australia, and Ned, with the mighty Diplomatic Force, is an actual equine owner – holding the Australian record for least number of dollars invested per minutes of conversation yielded. Marbles racing changed lives, I tell you. If any of you want to get your kids addicted to gambling, honestly, come and speak to me afterwards.
I don’t want to give the impression that Ned was a victim throughout childhood. He was also a hero. In this era where smacking has become taboo, I don’t want to paint Mum and Dad poorly by saying they were smackers. Always open hand, didn’t hurt, ner ner ner ner ner! For special occasions, however, Mum would pull out the wooden spoon, and attempt to land flailing blows on bare backs of legs as she chased us upstairs. Suffice to say, the wooden spoon was her go-to threat. As Florida has the electric chair, 3 Highton Grove had the wooden spoon.
Picture this then. Ned does something bad. Mum yells. Ned yells back. Mum tells Ned to stop yelling or he’ll get the wooden spoon. Ned keeps yelling and tells her that the wooden spoon doesn’t even hurt, ner ner ner ner ner! Mum dives for the utensils drawer, and within a heartbeat, they’re both running. By this stage, Sam, Pippa and I have gathered at the top of the stairs, the best viewing platform for watching Christians get torn apart by lions. And we’re loving it. Mum’s flying, taking ground with every stride. Ned’s going fast too, circling the downstairs rooms before deciding on whether to tackle the stairs. And then he does, but Mum’s seen that move before, and she’s on his hammer, and she’s got her arm raised, and she’s really mad, and then CRACK!
The crack is so loud that for a moment, we think that Ned has been dealt the mother of all wooden spoon hits. But then we look and see the glorious truth. Ned is still flying up the stairs and Mum is standing there, staring at a broken shard of wooden spoon handle. It’s dead. Ding Dong the Wooden Spoon is Dead! Ned runs past us and into his room, already giggling, and all three kids follow, and we raise him onto our shoulders, and hail him as a hero, for that is what he is.
Our celebrations were soured somewhat during the next supermarket shop when Mum bought a new wooden spoon, but that’s beside the point. For 24 hours, Ned had led us out of Egypt and into a Spoonless Promised Land.
Before I go too far with that analogy, Ned has none of Moses’s knack of handling locusts. Back in 1998, Ned and Stewie White, now just known as the celebrant’s son, were heading to Boots Staunton’s twenty first — a long hot drive into the sun, and Ned was behind the wheel. About half an hour from Camperdown, God got jack of some of the language they were using in the car, and beset a plague of locusts upon them. Suddenly there was zero visibility. Stewie remembers the moment as terrifying – one minute they were driving along enjoying the sunset, the next, totally blinded by tens of thousands of hungry insects, swarming the car. Fortunately, the windows were up, but what added to Stewie’s stress was that Ned didn’t decide to pull over. No, instead he chooses to drive on, his big fluffy head lowered below the level of the steering wheel, steering blindly into the plague, hoping that what he couldn’t see couldn’t kill him.
It’s not a bad adage for his life, because Ned can’t see plenty. He’s not alone on that front. We Wilson kids have a royal flush of eye defects — long sightedness, astigmatism, amblyopia — when Ned first texted me and told me about Olivia, and how she was one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen, I texted back and said: ‘Make sure you find out what others are saying.’ Yes, that’s our Ned. Big, blind and vague. The man who’s right eye wanders off to do it’s teeth and get into its jarmies half and hour before he does.
Even with these considerable sight handicaps, Ned was actually a pretty decent footballer. In his last year at Camberwell Grammar, he was under consideration to be captain of the First XVIII, and his coach, Ken Schwab, decided to hand him the reigns for the pre-season lightning premiership. He led the boys onto the ground, and did it with aplomb. Good clapping, from all accounts. A spring in his step. He took the boys through the warm up. They’d never been warmer, never looked sharper. Then, he trotted over to the umpires for the coin toss. The other captain tossed and Ned called. He called loudly, and he called correctly. He jogged back to his teammates, chest out, formulating the words that would have the boys cherry ripe for the first bounce.
‘Let’s go fellas! The season begins now. This is a lightning premiership. If we’re not switched on from the first bounce, the game will be over before we know it.’
The boys were behind him. ‘Come on Wellers. Good one Neddles. Let’s go boys.’
Stewie White can’t remember if it was him who asked the question. “Ned, which way are we kicking?’
It was met with a long, contemplative silence …
‘I don’t know.’
Eventually, through a process of elimination, the ends were sorted out, and Ned’s, eventually brief, captaincy career was underway.
When our sister Sam’s second son was born, controversially, also named Ned, my brother greeted the arrival of a new Ned with the statement, ‘’I’ll have to give him a Neducation.’ A Neducation, for those who don’t know, are lessons preparing you for a life of being a Ned. Ned’s have to be big. Ned’s have to be affable. Ned’s don’t have to talk very much, but they have to say quiet, funny things that everyone laughs at, and remembers as the highlight of the night. Neds have to watch heaps of TV, you’ll recognise a sofa that has been used by a Ned by its Ned-shaped wear marks, and Ned’s must have an almost polar bear capacity to hunker down and sleep through times of adversity, like party clean-ups or other such unfortunate group endeavours. Neds have to be smiley, friendly and kind. Neds have to be proud of being Neds, unless they get to Scotland and find out that ‘Ned’ is slang for juvenile delinquent, in which case an upstanding Ned will insist that his friends call him ‘Lance’. And it’s not widely known, but most Neds are naughty.
Our Ned is quietly naughty, and persists in being so because he always seems to get away with it. To give an example, on one trip to Adelaide casino, Ned and a group of friends were playing roulette. The game was proceeding as normal – people who don’t understand the concept of independent variables writing down numbers, the croupier doing his dramatic hand wipes and ‘no more bets’ calls – when suddenly a spanner was thrown into the works. ‘Where’s the ball?’ the croupier asks the table. Nobody replies. The croupier peers into his wheel, unable to believe his eyes, groping into all the nooks and crannies to locate a ball that has suddenly become invisible. A minute and a half later, Ned opens the pocket of his jacket, and with a big, ham-acted ‘shhhh’ gesture, shows the boys exactly where the roulette ball has gone. Yes, Neds might not be delinquents, but they are naughty.
Amazingly, the roulette ball is not even the best ‘light fingers’ story we have in the family. Ned’s younger sister Pippa once managed to steal a live lobster from a tank at a Chinese restaurant. How do they manage such sleight of hand, such conjuring skill. The truth goes all the way back to their childhoods. They were trained by one of the greats, a master illusionist who went by the name of The White Magician. The White Magician was a magician who could take on the appearance of any person in the world. Miraculously, he chose to take on my appearance. He always wore white pyjamas, my white pyjamas, and he could do magic tricks like fusing two matches together, turning his eyelids inside out, and locking a door from the other side that didn’t have a lock [mouthed: you hold the handle]. Ned loved the White Magician, and would happily report back to me the next morning that ‘the White Magician had visited again last night. ’Tony Tony, he came, he came!’ Sadly, after a year or so, he confronted me with the truth. ‘The White Magician is you … isn’t it. I know it is.’ Reluctantly, I confessed. The game, it seemed, was up. Except Ned wasn’t done yet. ‘I want in,’ he said excitedly. ‘I want to be a magician too.’ And so for the next few months, the White Magician appeared to Pippa and Pippa alone, and he had a new sidekick, ‘The Purple Pantomime’ who could take on the appearance of any person in the world, and who had chosen to take on Ned’s appearance. Pippa bought it. In fact I think we got tired of the game before she did. Indeed it’s entirely possible that Pip is currently in a state of shock over there. He’s not real, Pip. The Purple Pantomime is actually Ned.
It’s now time for telegrams, and we’ve got two – two actual telegrams that were delivered by Rolf from the Sound of Music and had STOP written in words at the end of each sentence. The first one is from Jamie Carter, a long-time friend of Ned’s and Olivia’s who now lives in the US.
Hi Ned and Olivia,
I would like to wish you both a very happy day and a very rewarding future together as a married couple. I would like to do this, but I can’t.
See, as many who witnessed the service would know, today Ned married my ex-girlfriend. Olivia and I may not have had relations, and if memory serves, we may not have even kissed, but I’m pretty sure we held hands, which was pretty fricken intense for a couple of love-sick 12 year olds.
We had our ups and downs, and we decided to take a break. A break, Ned!! I turn my back, in swoops Ned, and now we find ourselves in this awkward love triangle.
At Carey we had a code - no person may date, consider dating, or even look at a girl that was once the romantic interest of a mate, even if the romantic interest fizzled in the 80s. We called this — the “Peter Busse Principle”.
You broke this principle Ned, shame on you. But you went Camberwell Grammar; you lack a Baptist’s fortitude and moral fibre.
So here we are on your happy day. I am Eric Clapton to your George Harrison and Pattie Boyd; I am Jason Donovan to your Michael Hutchance and Kylie Minogue. And it hurts, hurts like hell. But I will move on with pride and dignity. I will channel my hurt into creating classic rock songs, while avoiding drug binges and crap London musicals.
In my more secure and happy moments, I am thrilled for both of you. Knowing both of you for as long as I have makes me begrudgingly confident in how happy you both will be together. You’re both wonderfully intelligent, modest, kind, and fun people, and I’m not surprised that you found happiness together. If I promise to bury my hurt deep inside, I hope you’ll let me continue to be a part of your lives for many years to come.
Ned, you win, you got the girl. Olivia, I want my pocketknife back.
This one comes from Chris Williams, who would have been best man had he not been in japan for his own pre-nuptials.
Firstly congratulations Ned & Olivia. Olivia, I’m sure you look beautiful. I hope you have an amazing day, but I’ll come back to the nice bit.
Firstly I would like to talk about Ned. Ah ‘The Fluff’. I have known Ned since Sergy the red pen famously broke vaulting record after vaulting record over the ruler in Year 5, some 22 years ago. Since then we have been through a lot together — from weekend camp-outs at Tenno’s, to the Merricks slater-bug massacre, to learning lessons travelling around Europe — like if you are drunk enough to join a Spanish conga line, be careful of your wallet. And don’t ever join a round with Glen20.
So I was very keen to be at Ned’s wedding, but alas, it is not to be. The reason being that I beat him down the aisle by about 10 days. This is just one of many victories I have enjoyed over Ned over the years. If I were to go through all the others (like the time I beat Ned in this year’s DreamTeam Grand Final) there would be little time left for anything else this weekend, so I think it’s probably better I go through the couple of occasions Ned got the upper hand. It is his wedding after all.
The first of these occasions involves an over I bowled to him during Captain’s Cricket on the extremely undersized and then cordoned off JTO, where a 12 year old Wilson, who was the same size he is now (if anything he has possibly shrunk since 1989) managed to hit around bowling off normal sized year 7s pretty well. Well, we don’t want to dwell on this story but the over I bowled to him went something like: 4 6 6 4 un-rebowled wide 6. Moving on…
The other story that gets told more often than I wish to hear it is the time when the Nintendo 64 was new, and a game called WWF Attitude was my main leisure activity. (I thought this story may appeal to the many fans of 1990s video game wrestling in your wedding audience.)
Anyway, the plan was to play the game by myself for “x” number of hours until I was pretty damn awesome. The key was remembering button combinations and once I had those down, then stage 2 was initiated – invite the button-mashing Wilson round for a hiding. He took the bait – the fly was in the well spun Williams web. We set about creating likenesses of ourselves to wrestle with. What hope would The Neducator have against the Penultimate Warrior? Well actually, not much to start with, so we played a few exhibition bouts so Ned could get his bearings. I wanted him to have a few small successes in a controlled environment to make sure he would agree to a title fight.
It worked – I had filled Ned with enough faux confidence, and Ned being the arrogant sonuvabitch he is, agreed to fight me for the title. The bout started, and things were going largely predictably but slowly, yet the Neducator, after amassing an okay amount of offence, just could not contend with the power moves the Penultimate Warrior was executing. So eventually, after an epic 40 minute war of attrition, the Neducator finally dwindled down to the dark red, meaning he was ripe for the pin as soon as I next knocked him over. Meanwhile I was still in the yellow, with still orange to go until red (It may sound like its not important, but it is). What was to happen next was one of the great miscarriages of video game justice ever. The Neducator pulled off a meagre body scissors from which the Penultimate Warrior should have expected to recover, especially with the amount of Yellow I had left in my “Attitude Meter”.
Then the Neducator hit the wrong button and made an accidental pin.
Then the referee somehow made it to a 3 count.
Then the Neducator was having his hand raised in victory followed by his belt presentation!
Of course I challenged Ned to a rematch, my pride as wounded as my sore and throbbing thumbs. Ned, the mongrel, refused, and so it seemed to me that a natural end to the evening had been reached. Rather than drop a hint by looking at my watch and yawning, I suggested that it was time for Ned to leave, — ‘get out of my house’ were the exact words — which Ned mistakenly interprets as me kicking him out of my house in a sore-loser rage.
So there you go Ned. Congratulations for those victories, and congratulations for today! What a find Olivia is, an attractive young neuroscientist undertaking one hell of an experiment! You compliment each other so well; The way you interact with each other, and little Eliza, is incredibly affectionate. You are both so ‘switched-on’, considerate and funny and it really is a privilege to be part of your lives. I’m looking forward to getting back and exchanging stories and photos (where mine will probably be better than yours). All the very, very best!!!
What a lovely man and what a great friend. I was so impressed with the telegram that I wrote straight back to Willy:
Wonderful telegram. Love it. BTW, did you mean to call Suzie, ‘Eliza’ in the nice bit? Is that your nickname for her?
To which Willy replied:
Ah, good pick up. Eliza is Hank's kid. Big mistake, please can you fix that up!
And so I have. And I’d like you all to tell Willy that I have.
I’ve long considered Olivia Carter to be my sister in law, but today it’s so exciting to see you as a bride and to know how happy you and my brother are together. When Olivia first arrived on the scene, she and Ned had the distance hurdle to get over. She was a neuroscientist at Harvard. Ned, was not a neuroscientist, not at Harvard. Quickly, he assessed that ‘daughter of a Peruvian princess who is also a neuroscientist at Harvard’ was, in the cricket jargon of today, a ball bowled in good areas. He flashed his blade. Again that’s cricket jargon. I’m not saying he actually flashed his blade. And for the first time in his romantic life, Ned was building a memorable innings.
And what an innings it has been. He went to Harvard himself, something I for one never thought Ned would do, and did a double major in long-distance Dreamteam and sleeping. Then, having won the Fluiffamatics their first premiership, he brought Olivia back, and she wowed us Wilsons with her beauty, her intelligence and her friendliness. Olivia’s status in the family was secure by the time of her first Wilson Christmas. But she made absolutely sure of it in the traditional post-lunch cricket game, when she faced up to her very first ball. Tom Nisbet was the bowler, and I’m sure Tom won’t mind me saying that his offies lack turn, and fizz, and drift … I mean the kid bowls pies … but that said, you’ve got to put away the bad ball. And so, with her future father-in-law looking on from a crouch behind the wicket, Olivia danced nimbly down the pitch, one skip, two skips, and lifted the ball sweetly over mid-on. It was a timeless moment. Olivia haring between the wickets. Uncle Ian drunkenly lumbering around the boundary, attempting in vain to stop the four. She was a Peruvian princess, but, as we were quickly finding out, she owned a full wardrobe of tracksuit pants, and had Ponting-esque footwork, something we’ve been looking for in the gene pool for some time.
We’ve also lacked an Eliza in the gene pool - still do in fact. But we now have a Suzie, and what a lovely little baby she is. Of course, for most of her nine months, she hasn’t really liked me, but this morning let me hold her for a record breaking forty-five minutes, which was as thrilling as being allowed into a really exclusive nightclub. I think the thing that swung her around was me whispering to her that under old English inheritance rules, only issue born after the marriage stand to inherit anything. She apparently had no idea about this, and promised to me there and then that she will now be on her best behaviour.
Ned, Dad says that you’re lucky and I guess you are. You invest in a horse and it immediately wins its first four starts. You bump into a friend at the races, who casually tosses over the numbers for four thousand dollars worth of longshot quadrella. You have this amazing group of mates, who I’d attempt to annexe and take for my own mates if I didn’t know how much they mean to you. And now you have Olivia, and Suzie, and a love that is as deep as the many Ned-shaped indents you have left in couches worldwide. A love that makes all of us so happy and so proud. Ned, you are lucky, but I think that good things come to you because of who you are: the sheer pleasantness of your personality, your willingness to have a go, your good-natured embrace of the good things in life. And I’m lucky too. Because I get to have you as a brother.
Well done Olivia and Ned. I hope you continue to have a memorable night.
Jonathan: 'He's so old and I'm so young and handsome', for brother Ricky & Lauren
Thank you, thank you. It is great to be [inaudble].
For those of you who may not know, I'm Ricky's younger brother, Jonathan. And I'm extremely honored to be here tonight to be the best man not just to my brother but to one of my best friends, Ricky. You might think it would be hard for us to be so close. We're like 90 years apart. He's so old and I'm so young and handsome. But as luck would have it, both of us have a maturity level of about a seventh grader. RICKY: Put together. JONATHAN: Combined. So it kinda works out nicely.
Before I get all sentimental, it wasn't always so great to be Ricky's brother. I know, it's shocking. But when Ricky was in high school, he often babysat for me, my sister Josie and my cousin Mike. So when it came time for dinner, Ricky used to order a pizza, take in the whole thing into his room and leave us with cool-aid packets. That's right. He didn't even make the cool-aid for us. Now that I think about it, high school Ricky kinda sucks. I can't hold that against him anymore because he's really made up for it since then. Just a show of hands, how many people have ever left a conversation with Ricky thinking, "That guy would really be something if he had a personality." We got one guy. Okay, yeah, not very many. Ricky can make almost anyone laugh except for poor Lauren after she's heard of the same joke for the 90th time.
I'm about to reveal Ricky's most guarded secret. I think Lauren would be here. Ricky is like the funniest person alive, for like twenty minutes next to me after that he's only so-so. I'm sorry, it's true. Don't get me wrong though, there's no one in the world I'd rather hang out with than my brother Ricky. And I mean that literally because we hang out together all the time. Sometimes we even go out to lunch together wearing the exact same outfit. It's a great time until one of Ricky's high school and college friends comes by and thinks as though we might be dating. Let me tell you that it's awkward.
Speaking of dating - see what I did there - Ricky and Lauren have been dating for the past five years. And I just want to say Lauren's making me feel amazing right now because I know this speech was terrible. She'd be giving me this look right now like, "You are making such a fool of yourself." A.K.A the look she gives Ricky 95% of the time. So thank you for the support.
Anyways, out of those five years, I can count on one hand the amount of days that they've spent apart from each other. And you know what, if it hasn't happened yet, you guys never getting sick of each other, it's not gonna happen. And I hope that it never happens because I know that you guys truly love each other.
What else but love can explain how Ricky come up to Lauren and say, "Listen, I have this great idea. I'm gonna put on this tank top, we're going outside, I'm gonna pour this freezing cold jug of milk on my head, I'm gonna make sure it's in super slow motion, and then" - (laughter) - you should give it up for [Lauren] here [inaudible] - and Lauren agrees to it. But the results speak for themselves, [inaudible].
Ricky and Lauren asked me to be their best man, that's right, their best man. Because as Ricky has put it no one has spent more time with Ricky and Lauren together than me. And I know a lot of you are thinking to yourselves right now, "Wow, that sounds terrible. I don't want my little brother hanging around with my girlfriend all the time." But not once did you guys ever made me feel I was getting in your way or you secretly wish I would go away. Maybe once in a while you [inaudible], but I thank you for hiding it so well.
I honestly love you both for all that you've done for me and I couldn't be happier to be here today to celebrate your wedding. If I was less awesome, I'd be crying right now. But instead, I just wanna toast my brother Ricky and my new sister Lauren, I wish you both a lifetime of happiness and I honestly cannot wait to see what your kids end up like.
One last thing, since so many of our family came all the way from the great country of Mexico tonight, I've translated this entire speech into Spanish and I would like to read it for all of you right now. Ricky y Lauren, los quiero.
Read more: http://www.sweetspeeches.com/s/1906-best-man-the-best-best-man-speech-ever#ixzz3ebhmjtTf
Alex with friend Ben.
Gabriel: 'The condition was that he had to write the best man toast', for Alejandro & Meghan - 2011
24 June, 2011, Massachesetts
When Ale asked me to be his best man I felt really touched. He’s such a classy guy that I was truly honored. But then he quickly followed the invitation with what he said was a very important condition. And I remember he had this conflicted look on his face like as if he wished he didn’t have to say what he was about to say, but he said it anyway and he told me that the condition was that he had to write the best man toast.
Most of you are probably puzzled and are thinking what’s up with that. But I knew exactly what he was referring to. You see, when I was in college, with my whole family in attendance, I gave a bust of an acceptance speech at a scholarship dinner and he’s never let me live it down.
So I knew well, that implicit in his conditional invitation to be his best man was a serious warning that said basically, “Don’t you dare make an ass yourself again at MY wedding.”
So, I did what every loving older brother would do, I looked past the mixed feelings of honor, excitement, AND shame that he had made me feel and I heeded his warning.
And so, as awkward as this may sound, for the first time in my lifetime, and probably yours too, I will now read to you the best man toast written by the groom himself… it reads:
Dear Ale, or as I like to call you when I look at you in the mirror every morning, dear Mr. Perfect (kiss to the bicep):
Today is your day. Tonight is your night. And can I just say this publicly: there are no words good enough to express how good you look right now, but I will try anyhow: you, hot stuff, look outstanding. All that money and effort that you put into getting your tuxedo tailored to fit your perfectly chiseled and muscular physique was well worth it! On most days, Tom Brady’s got nothing on you handsome, and tonight he’s not even close.
To my beautiful new bride Meghan: tell me, my sexy little soda bread, how does it feel to be the chosen one, the luckiest girl in the world who gets to keep this guy by your side for the rest of your life?
I mean, who would of thought that the simple act of taking my shirt off after rugby practice at Framingham State would have resulted in all of this? Well, frankly, I would have. I mean, it’s nearly impossible to resist me. If it were socially acceptable to marry oneself, I would have said “yes” to me too.
Anyhow, today is truly inspired by love, friendship and commitment…and my burning desire to populate the human race with the most beautiful and talented offspring this world has ever seen. Of course, they will all be little Crossfitters who will grow up to teach their cousins how to do burpees with perfect technique and why the Paleo Diet is good for them even if they are not even 10 years old.
Speaking of Paleo, it’s really a shame that the cup cakes are not caveman-approved. To my family and friends, please don’t be offended if I look at you with disdain as you chow down on them later. As for me, I plan on mashing a couple of them together into a kettle bell, freezing it, and doing swings with it a year from now on our wedding anniversary. With CrossFit, it’s all about doing what you can with what’s around you. Like the time we were at the lake house with the O’Brien family and I woke up wicked early to do squats with sandbags and push jerks with a kayak. My goal for this August: to LIFT the entire lake house with the whole O’Brien clan in it.
Well, I’m digressing and I think it’s time to bring this toast to a close, so I would like to end with a few words for Meghan from one of my favorite wrestlers of all time, the Heartbreak Kid, Shawn Michaels. Dear Meghan, for the rest of your life, “I guarantee you BEYOND a shadow of a doubt, I will give you a show like you HAVE never… ever seen before…Why?…Because I can.”
PS - Lady’s and gentlemen, the Heartbreak Kid, Alex Verdaguer, has left the building.
On a serious note, I have a lot of fond memories of my times with Ale, and especially those few occasions where we managed to show one another that we really cared about each other. I want to share with you one of those examples. I was in college and I had a big weekend track competition that included some travel, so I had packed my bag the night before. Friday morning, after class, I went back home to pick up my bag and I found a note sitting on top of it. I pick it up, I see it’s from Ale, and it read something like, “Good luck this weekend. I’ll be thinking of you.” I kept the note for a while after that because it meant a lot, especially because it came at a time in our lives when we were both so busy that we barely did much together.
So, I share this story with you also to remind you of the value of doing little things like that to let each other know that you love each other.