No Joke

For some unknown reason, I tend to think that life is very much about laughter. Sure, it’s about tons of other things, but I seem to cherish the funny moments as much as, if not more than, most others. In fact, I seem to grab hold of a very dark sense of humor when many would consider it inappropriate to make jokes. Lawton and I often trade funny and inappropriate comments in the face of sadness. Those who are know things about psychology could probably explain to me that it’s a coping mechanism of some sort, and I’m sure that it is.

Sometimes, though, life isn’t funny, even when I really want it to be. Like now, when I read this message. My friend Shawn had battled cancer for the last 2 years, and, despite being cancer-free at one point, his battle was eventually a losing one, and I just can’t find the funny handle on it. I don’t know what jokes to tell.

Even though I’m a pretty indoorsy guy, I keep thinking of camping. I’ve heard my friends who like to go out and do camping things talk about packing out what you pack in, that you should leave a campsite the way you found it. Shawn, was unwilling to do that, though. He has left this little campsite of ours, but he didn’t leave it the way he found it. He seems to have managed to make it better for all of us who knew him. And that’s no joke.

Happy trails, Shawn. Rest in peace, buddy.

How We Did It: the Ceremony

A couple of folks had told me after the wedding that they wanted to read our vows or get a copy of a reading or whatever, and I thought, “If only I had some platform I could use to publish information to multiple people at once …”

So I’m going to post the ceremony here on the Chronicles. Besides, if that ceremony isn’t part of the Chronicles of Abs, I don’t really know what is. It’s not exactly what was said, in that I’ve changed some names, and I think the officiant made a couple of last-minute tweaks for better deliverability, but it’s pretty much what we came up with ahead of time. All the talking is from the Roomie Pastor (it’s not just a clever name – he was actually my roommate for the last three years of college) unless otherwise noted.

---

[Guest Seating. Jazz playing.]

[Music switches to Forrest Gump Theme. Step-mother of the bride is seated, followed by mother of the groom , then step-father and mother of the bride.]

[Music switches to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole. Roomie Pastor, groomsmen, and groom enter. Bridesmaids process. Music stops.]

Welcome. I am the Roomie Pastor and I have the privilege of performing this marriage ceremony today.  On behalf of Abs and the Girl and their parents welcome and thank you for being here. They are delighted that you are here today to share in their joy during this wonderful moment in their lives.

By your presence, you celebrate with them the love they have discovered in each other and you support their decision to commit themselves to one another for the rest of their lives. Abs and the Girl would like to see this day as an affirmation and celebration of their commitment and not the beginning of it.

Today their relationship changes. All of us know it will grow, and become stronger and better. Indeed this day is a day of hope. A day in which Abs and the Girl demonstrate their commitment, devotion, and mutual respect, as well as their faith and love in themselves and one another.

You who are gathered here as witnesses are called to continue your support and encouragement as they unite in marriage. You are not here to simply hear words uttered in ceremony, or just to witness the first kiss between husband and wife. Your participation in this ceremony is as important as your participation in their lives. So, we ask for your active participation in this ceremony. You should feel free to clap and cheer and laugh when it strikes you.

One more thing. It’s an unusual situation, but some of you may know Abs by the name his mother calls him or a shortened version of it. After 20 years, I can’t bring myself to call him anything else, so I’m going to be calling him Abs during the ceremony. But if you know him as something else, you should remember that I called him that.

We are about to start. Everyone, please stand.

[Pachelbel’s Canon in D plays as the bride processes, escorted by her dad. They walk to the front, dad kisses his daughter on the cheek, shakes Abs’s hand, and takes his seat.]

Please be seated. 

We all know marriage is more than two people standing up here repeating vows. There is an art to any creative activity. So too in marriage.

• Part of the art of marriage is finding room for the things of the spirit.
  So to you two I say continue in your search for the good and the beautiful in this life.
• Part of the art of marriage is being flexible.
  So in your marriage cultivate flexibility, patience, understanding, and a sense of humor.
• Part of the art of marriage is to comfort each other and strive to be each other’s best friend.
  Most important, develop the capacity to forgive and heal your differences day by day.
• Always remember that your love can prevail. It can be the miracle that invites you to learn, to blossom, to expand your horizons.

From your new marriage relationship can come the nurture and strength you two need to face the world.  Only from this moment on you will face the world together in a new way.  Today a new family is born and our world will be the better for its birth. For this we all celebrate.

Now, the Girl’s sister-in-law, will do a reading.

[The Girl’s sister-in-law]:

From The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive. But the Skin Horse only smiled.

"The Boy's Uncle made me Real," he said. "That was a great many years ago; but once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

[Roomie Pastor]: Now the Girl’s step-sister will do a reading.

[The Girl’s step-sister]:

“I Wrote a Good Omelet” by Nikki Giovanni

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem...

after loving you

Buttoned my car...and drove my coat home...in the rain...

after loving you

I goed on red...and stopped on green...floating

somewhere in between...

being here and being there

after loving you

I rolled my bed...turned down my hair...slightly

confused but...I don't care...

Laid out my teeth...and gargled my gown...then I stood

...and laid me down...

to sleep...

after loving you

[Roomie Pastor]:

This is the part, in a traditional ceremony, where the wizened holy man offers sage words of advice distilled from the ages.  Well, I suspect I'm too young and handsome to be wizened, and I'd like to think I'm here today as your friend.

So as your friend, what I offer you is something maybe more valuable: a promise. I am here for you.

So are we all. Look around you.  Many have come from far and wide, not just for a great party, which we'll have, but to pledge their support for you, to say not only "yes, I am here for your wedding", but also "yes, I am here for your marriage".

I am your parent, your brother, your sister, your dear friend. I'm here for the both of you. If you need my advice, a different perspective, or just someone to listen. We are all here for you.

And, let me speak for everyone here today, when I say, I love you both.

And now that we have pledged our support to you, it is time for you each to declare your love and promise to each other.

 

As you share daily life,

do you promise to love, honor, respect, and cherish each other,

to celebrate life's joys together and comfort each other through life's sorrows?

Do you promise to help each other discover and follow your own true path in life,

to try to appreciate your differences as a source of richness,

and above all to do everything within your power to permit each of you to become the people you are yet to be? 

[Abs and the Girl]: I do

[Roomie Pastor, repeated by Abs]: I, Abs, choose you, the Girl, to be my wife.

I promise to be a partner to you,

to lean on you when I need strength,

and to hold you when I am strong.

I promise to create with you

a home filled with love and peace,

balance and freedom,

healing tears and laughter,

friendship and compassion.

I will strive to be slow to anger

and quick to forgive.

I will respect you as an equal,

knowing that we do not complete,

but complement each other.

I will love you deeply and truly

for all the days of my life.

[Roomie Pastor, repeated by the Girl]: I, the Girl, choose you, Abs,

to be my husband.

I promise to be a partner to you,

to lean on you when I need strength,

and to hold you when I am strong.

I promise to create with you

a home filled with love and peace,

balance and freedom,

healing tears and laughter,

friendship and compassion.

I will strive to be slow to anger

and quick to forgive.

I will respect you as an equal,

knowing that we do not complete,

but complement each other.

I will love you deeply and truly

for all the days of my life.

Exchange of Rings

  May I have the rings please.

Abs, place the ring on her finger and repeat after me:

This ring I give you
as a symbol and pledge
of constant faith
and abiding love.

Do you, the Girl, receive this ring as a token of your pledge to keep and perform these vows?

[The Girl]: I do.

The Girl, place the ring on his finger and repeat after me:

This ring I give you
as a symbol and pledge
of constant faith
and abiding love.

Do you, Abs, receive this ring as a token of your renewed pledge to keep and perform these vows?

[Abs]: I do.

 

By virtue of the authority committed to me by the law of the state, I now declare that you, Abs and the Girl, are husband and wife.

Abs, you may kiss your bride!

[Smooches. Then faces crowd]

Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you for the first time, Mr. & Mrs. Abs.

[Crowd: goes wild]

May your hearts be united in love, and your lives intertwined forever in tenderness and devotion and may you find a home everywhere on earth where you are together.

[Newlyweds literally skip down aisle to “All I Want Is You” by Barry Louis Polisar]

I’m No Boy Scout

The first time I proposed to a girl was via email.

Shockingly, she said no.

I suppose I should provide a little more detail. This all happened several years ago, when I was youngish, had a much fuller head of hair, and still sported the goatee. I met the girl in question, whom we will call Pomona, on a free trip to the Caymans, courtesy of the Pretty Boy. I know you’re probably thinking that I was a fool to let an island encounter get me carried away and lead to a marriage proposal. OK, there’s a large percentage of you who don’t believe there was an island encounter in the first place, and, sadly, you are quite correct. Many of us on the free trip hung out and partied on and in the white sand and blue, blue water of the Caymans, and it was a magical week. But not quite so magical as to lead to a semi-random hook up for me.

Nonetheless, a number of fun people from that early December trip – most of whom lived in the Philly area – decided to try to have some more good times together by coming to D.C. to ring in the new year with those of us who were clever enough to already live in the D.C. area (i.e. me). Many emails flew around (this was before IM really caught on), and I traded several with Pomona. In one exchange she divulged 3 highly unusual things:

1. She and her dad had season tickets to Temple basketball games, not because they had any connection to the university at all, but solely because it allowed them to see some college hoops in person.
2. She happened to know off hand that UNC had lost the night before, but was bummed that she was unable to watch the game.
3. She liked Bobby Knight. (As a speaker. Mainly, anyway. She was trying to book him as a speaker for some event she was coordinating. I point this out not because that makes her right or smart but it’s such an unusual stance for anyone other than an old school IU fan to have.)

That was quite a lot to take in all at once, and I couldn’t help but be more than a tad shell shocked. I decided to go with some email flirtation, and I concluded my response with this gem:

I have to admit that I am fairly disturbed by many of your comments.  A woman who likes college basketball?  What?  She pays close enough attention to know that UNC lost last night?  She likes Bobby Knight?!!  It's a crazy thing.  I can't really explain how the existence of these things turns my world on its ear.  This may sound a little forward . . .  I mean, I know I don't know you that well . . .  but, um . . . well . . .  will you marry me?

Those of you who know about these things will know that my efforts at flirtation are doomed to fail because, as a middle reliever, I’m actually incapable of flirting. And, seriously, that could have possibly been just scary enough to scuttle the whole New Year’s Eve outing. However, my email wasn’t really about marriage. It really just meant, “I’m impressed by you, and I’d really like to date, or at least shag, you, and I’m going to attempt to convey that desire in a possibly creepy and definitely opaque manner that I misconstrued as charming, funny, and flirtatious.” As it turned out, Pomona wasn’t outwardly creeped out (or she at least hid it well), given this response:

I'll have to say no to the marriage proposal today...though, if you present me with a really big ring tomorrow night, I might reconsider.

That was actually somewhat funny and definitely cleverly deflecting of the whole issue. I suppose it could be summed up as, “I’m not particularly interested in shagging you, but I see no reason not to keep my options open for the time being.” Of course, I took it at the time, as was my wont, to mean, “I’d get wit cha if you were rich.” (I believe Kanye had a song about that sort of thing.)

I wrote something back, inevitably about how tough it was on an Abs in those days, and let the whole thing drop.

Right?

Wrong! At least about letting it drop. Yadambetcha I wrote about how tough it was on an Abs in those days. Because it was. However, instead of letting it drop, I opted to respond in a clever, charming, and witty way, even if doing so made me risk going a bit over the top. I decided to buy her that big ring and give it to her the next night.

So, when we met up at the hotel where we were crashing to head out for the New Year’s Eve festivities, Pomona surprised me by immediately asking, “Did you get me a big ring?” I wasn’t expecting her to continue our little joke, especially in front of our whole group of people, and I was more than a little perturbed by her stealing my surprising and charming move’s thunder. Still, there was nothing for it, so I somewhat reluctantly reached into my pocket and handed her a big, red ring pop. I suppose if I were being especially clever, I would have gotten down on a knee or something, but I was too put off of my game. She said, “Thanks,” smiled and we all headed out for the night.

An hour or so later, Pomona had a brief moment to chat, and, as she looked at the big sucker on her finger, I asked her about it: “So you were expecting me to give you a ring pop?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Well, it was the obvious response.”

Sensing my distress at the utter failure of my charm, at being so “obvious,” she opted to be nice: “I liked it though. It was still funny. I would have liked it better if it was a green one, though.”

She was borderline stunned when I reached in my pocket and pulled out a green ring pop. I hadn’t been able to decide between the red or the green, so, big spender that I am, I bought both. “I definitely didn’t expect that,” she told me.

It was dumb luck that I was prepared for that situation, and one might think it was looking good for the Kid right there. What happened next, you wonder? Did Abs shock the world and manage to ring in the New Year with some fireworks? Did he capitalize on this unprecedented show of suavity?

Absolutely not. The details are a bit fuzzy, but at that point, some of our friends came over with shots, I proceeded to get famously drunk, and she went home with one of the guys she had traveled down from Philly with, which was really her plan all along, unbeknownst to me.

So what’s the point of this, you ask? I’m not exactly sure, other than that I was recently thinking about this story and how that second sucker ring made me so prepared. And it just didn’t matter because she just wasn’t particularly interested.

The next time around, I wasn’t nearly as prepared. I only got one ring for the Girl. Lucky for me, she didn’t say she would have preferred a green one; she just said, “Yes.”

So let those boy scouts “be prepared.” Maybe sometimes it’s better to just get it right.

A Sample of Efficiency

I like to do things efficiently if I can. I have my computer all pimped out so that I can do a million things with my keyboard. Rarely do I have to waste time by reaching all the way over and grabbing the mouse. With my setup, I can knock out a blog post, peruse Facebook, write an email, fire off an IM, or browse through my RSS feeds, all without ever taking my hands off the keyboard. Aren’t you impressed? Well, my desire for efficiency is especially manifested when the things I’m to do require me to leave my seat. (For those of you saying that I’m really just very lazy, zip it! This is my post, and I’m telling you, it’s all about efficiency.) If I have to get up and go somewhere, I like to knock out a couple of things at once. If I have to scan something, I’ll drop a couple of soda cans in the recycle bin. If I need to meet with someone on the other side of the building, I’ll stop by a friend’s office to visit while I’m in the neighborhood. If I need to fill up my water bottle, I’ll go ahead and go to the restroom if I need to.

That last one got me thinking, though. If I were a random person who just happened to see me (or someone like me) head into the restroom with an empty water bottle, what would I think? Would that random person think that I was going to collect a urine sample? In the case of my 1 liter water bottle, an impressively large urine sample? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Press Conference Remix

Non-somnolent reader FJ sent this to me (via 4 Dudes Write a Blog via Deadspin), and I llllllooooovvvveeee it. There’s a stretch in the middle where it gets a little long, but it’s worth it if you stick around. Just marvelous. Genius, I tell you! I love the Jim Mora stutter effect.

A New Category of Cool

Since I am one of the least cool, last-to-know types in the world, I don’t know why I’m posting this. I mean, even ABC Nightly News beat me to the punch. But I just can’t help myself. The Spaceball sent me this today, and I had to put it up. I know that you are all cooler and better informed than I am, but I’m posting it anyway. You should totally check this out (assuming you haven’t already).

The product itself doesn’t do it. You have to read the reviews, especially that of B.Govern. It’s genius on a shopping site, I tell you. And I know I’m only adding fuel to the fad fire that this business is, but I totally love it.

It even has its own music video:

I think it’s soooo cool. I’d even say it’s Three Wolf Cool.

Too Late

Have you ever struggled through something in life and wondered why it was so hard, only to learn that a tool was developed later that would have eased your struggles immeasurably?

Well, I can honestly say that’s happened to me more than once. I mean, if Facebook existed when I was in college, I would obviously have a rampaging sex machine, a Don Juan in Docs, khakis, a flannel, and a baseball cap. There’s no question about it. My lack of success with women in those days wasn’t because I lacked skills in the game of Pitching Woo. It wasn’t because I was a middle reliever. No! The issue is quite clear to me now: it was that I didn’t have a nearly instant, electronic connection to every single woman at my school and every other college in the country!

Today, the Spaceball sent me a link to a similarly world-changing tool. If only I had this tool, mayhap my goatee would still be here today. Of course, that would mean that this blog would never have existed, and that would mean your life would be immeasurably worse than it is today, but it’s still an amazing thought. The tool in question is the Goatee Saver. You can’t just look at the site, either. You must watch the video on the home page. That is restaurant quality video about a world-changing product.

Simply marvelous.

Too Short

Dear Dad,

When I think about our time together, the freshest memories naturally come first. I think of you in the hospital twice because of debilitating strokes. I think of learning about things like left side neglect, edema, and brain cell recruitment. I think of all of us adjusting to new ways of things. I think of the eventual frustration with being unable to use your left arm, unable to continue working at the job you loved so much. I think of endless trips to Walgreen’s and how, try as we might, we could never seem to provide you with enough blue pens. I think of how you never lost your sense of humor, how, when the Girl and I called to tell you that we were engaged, you inevitably said, “I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

But those are just some of the recent things I think of. And those aren’t the things I want to think about. As I pondered what to say here, we were looking through some of your things from high school, and I found a poem you liked so much that you had handwritten a copy of it. I think it’s very fitting:

When I quit this mortal shore.
And mosey ‘round the earth no more,
Don’t weep, don’t sigh, don’t sob;
I may have struck a better job.

Don’t go and buy a large a large bouquet
For which you’ll find it hard to pay;
Don’t mope around and feel all blue –
I may be better off than you.

Don’t tell folks I was a saint,
Or any old thing that I ain’t.
If you have jam like that to spread,
Please hand it out before I’m dead.

If you have carnations, bless your soul,
Just pin one in my button-hole
While I’m alive and well today.
Don’t wait until I’ve gone away.

With that in mind the older memories seemed to come more readily, in rapid fire succession, and I think of so many things from while you were alive and well.

I think of you, me, and my big bro playing catch in the yard for hours on end.

I think of us all wrestling on the family room floor.

I think of games of Charades and Blind Man’s Bluff.

I think of all 3 of us taking road trip vacations to Civil War battlefields, of the sudden outbursts of unexplained laughter from the one of us who happened to be reading a Dave Barry book.

I think of shelves full of books stacked on books surrounded by books. Of books in paper bags and on tables.

I think of breakfast meetings at Bob Evans.

I think of the 3 Abs men meeting in a random college town to take in a football game that none of us really cared about.

I think of watching countless hours sports on TV, of going to Reds, Pacers, and Colts games.

I think of sitting in the bleachers of various high school football fields the big bro was playing on, as you invariably leaned to me sometime in the third quarter and observed, “Third down. Big play, buddy.”

I think of foolishly leaving a message on your home answering machine, not knowing that you wouldn’t ever think to check it. I think of how, from then on, I knew, if I needed to get you on the phone, I could find you most easily at work, even at odd hours.

I think of an endless curiosity that reveled in books with titles like Why Clocks Go Clockwise. Those books taught me not only why clocks go clockwise (they were developed in the Northern hemisphere and were based on sundials), but also why firemen always have Dalmatians (they worked well with horses).

I think of how creativity was valued in the absence of knowledge. At one of those Bob Evans breakfasts, I read something off of one of the cards at the table and wondered what it was talking about. Big bro said, “Hell, I don’t know,” and was ready to move on. But you stopped him: “Hold on. We’re about to make stuff up.”

I think of how home projects are measured not in the time or effort or even money they require, but in how many new tools and trips to the hardware store we needed to complete them.

I think of digging through a road atlas, following your instructions to find us a state highway that went in the general direction of where we were going, just to “get off the interstate and see the country.”

I think of how an argument might have been your favorite kind of discussion.

I think of an abiding love of Hoosier basketball. One time in college, I received a letter from you that made my roommate marvel. It wasn’t just that you had sent a letter with the check I needed, although that was pretty unusual. It was that the letter was two handwritten pages. The first paragraph talked about the business at hand. The other page and three quarters talked about the prospects of the IU’s impending basketball season.

I think of how, even for the last six years, you always paid attention to how the Wabash football team fared.

I think of the benedictions I have to offer:

• May you find a place full of interesting books and time to read them
• May the small secrets of universe reveal themselves in interesting ways
• May you see the Hoosiers and Little Giants find victory regularly

Finally, I think of the short visits we had since I went to college, be they to have a beer, watch a game, or just hang out. At the end of all those visits, we both seemed to have the same sentiment, expressed in various ways: it was way too short, but I’m really glad we were able to get together.

Maybe we could say that about life in general, Dad: it’s way too short, but I’m so incredibly glad that we were able to be here together.

Love always,
Abs

Stories on a Schedule

I’m a big fan of stories. I like to hear them. I like to tell them. Heck, most of my favorite posts on this blog have been stories. Anyway, Bike Action Dave pointed me toward The Moth Podcast, which is all about stories. They have lots of people get up and tell stories, and they put them out in podcasts. Somtimes, they’re from writers or other pseudo-famous people. Sometimes they’re from random people who just tell a good story. Sometimes they’re sad. Sometimes they’re happy. Sometimes they’re funny. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes it rains.

Anyhoo, if you dig the stories, and you like podcasts, check it out. It comes out once a week, and I typically wish it was more frequent. They generally take about 15 minutes, which is about commute-sized for me.

It Sounds Better Than 'Recipes That Will Clean Your Pipes'

I was at a bookstore the other night putting an x-mas gift card to good use. The Girl was also attempting to put a gift card of her own to use, and she was looking at cookbooks. She was looking for a particular one, and she enlisted my help. I didn't find the book she was looking for, but I did happen to glance this gem:

 

I couldn't help but wonder what it was about. Chuckling, I showed it to the Girl, suggesting that it was chock-a-block full of recipes for the high fiber diet. She suggested that we open it to find out, and I absolutely refused, deciding that it would be better to just leave it to my imagination. She opened it anyway and determined that it's from a New Orleans restaurant. We didn't look at the actual recipes, though. So I'm going to just assume that it's a restaurant that caters to the discerning, if irregular, eater.