MA17's Wedding: Some Words That I Said

Note:  Putting this here because the text far exceeded the delivery, and it might be nice to go back and read through it on occasion.


Good evening, everyone.  My name is _J_, and I am, titularly, the best man.

When I first sat down to write this speech I quickly realized that I had no idea what the hell I was doing.  The only instruction I received from April was to not talk about sex, and everything else was fair game.  The open-ended nature of my task proved unhelpful, and so I sought the aid of the internet to hone my options via the examples of others.  If you permit me, I would like to couch the narrative of my speech within that context.  A speech about the speech, if you will.  Because that's the sort of thing that I do.

And, let's be honest.  When you two asked me to be the best man you really ought to have expected something like this.

So, as I searched "best man speech" and perused the Googles, I found three main categories of results.

First, I discovered that there are numerous speech templates available to ease the writing process.  One simply inserts proper names, verbs, and emotive phrases into the provided blanks, and then you're done.  Sort of like a Mad Lib.

Second, I discovered  many lists of do’s and don’ts.  Be funny, tell a story, don't talk about politics.  Those sorts of things.

Finally, I found that youtube is stocked with plenty of best man speech videos labeled as either “best” or “funniest”.  One can watch those speeches and simply steal useful lines.

Yet as my search continued, I realized the absurdity of this whole process.  The template speeches express the idea that friendships can be reduced to adjectives and anecdotes, just as most marriage ceremonies are reduced to scripted oratory and staged observance.  The lists of Dos and Don'ts privilege etiquette over honesty.  And the youtube videos seem to foster a competition:  Whose best man speech can get the most hits?

Not this one, I assure you.

As I reflected upon these ideas I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cultural baggage that is attached to marriage; this bizarre ceremony by which persons exchange property, entwine souls, and gain limited powers of attorney.

I was particularly struck by the pomp of it all; this notion of grandeur enmeshed in convoluted symbolisms beholden to historical cultural norms all of which are held in check between the pillars of tradition and taboo.

This is the point at which you ought to realize that I really won't be telling any funny stories.

Because funny stories are not the point of all this.

You are not here to listen to me talk about playing Diablo 2 with Adam, or to politely chuckle as I relate the story of when April realized that my visits provided her an excuse to get out of prior commitments, because she had a friend visiting from out of town.  Right now none of you care about me or my story.

You care about Adam and April.

Just as I care about Adam and April.

That’s why we’re here.

We’re here because these two individuals had an impact on our lives.  We're here because each of us has a story to tell about Adam and April, just as Adam and April have stories to tell about us.  Without Adam and April, we're mostly a room full of strangers wearing inexplicably fancy clothing.  Yet when Adam and April enter, we find our commonality.  They brought all of us together by their being together.

That, to me, seems like the important aspect of today's ceremony.  We’re not here for flowers or tuxes or speeches.  We're not here for the cultural baggage or spectacle.  We're here for something that cannot fit into an online form.  Adam and April, two people about whom we each care a great deal, found one another.  We’re here to celebrate that.

And everything else is profligate.

Except for the bar.

So, if you will, please raise your glass.  Adam, April, we love you, we thank you, and we wish you all the best.

Cheers.