The Wedding Diaries: Bringing in the Three Stooges

Thank you for indulging me as I am the shell of a man but still willing to help future dads of brides. It’s actually a lot of fun if you try not to think about it too much. And do as you’re told. And remain invisible.

I met my baby daughter when she was 4. She was in leggings and Mary Janes, she was chunky, her hair was thick and full, her smile was innocent but cautious.

I loved her immediately.

That has not changed, but she has. She is not chunky, she smiles at me with honesty and charm, melts my heart, graduates from college in May, and is getting married on Cinco de Marriage, less than two weeks from right now.

Time is a great mystery, because the other day I was helping her with homework and picking her up from school and telling her how beautiful she looked on her way to the prom.

This is a lot to deal with for a guy with my embarrassingly low intellect and high sentimentality, so I’ve had to bring in heavy hitters to help. I am not too proud to admit it.

Neither of this trio of guys were invited to the wedding because they live so far away. I didn’t want them to feel as if they had to come.

But they know me. And they know I will need them. So they invited themselves and are coming.

The Three Stooges, starring in this episode of Emily’s Wedding.

Should be interesting.

Matth — we don’t know why the “h” is there but it is — will arrive from Carolina. He makes the guy on those beer commercials, the World’s Most Interesting Man, look like a first grader at naptime. Matth is the most spectacular person any of us knows. Whenever the bride’s mom voices any potential Wedding Worry, I calmly say, “Matth will be here,” and she smiles and her panic button resets to zero.

If the drummer or keyboard player goes down, Matth can fill in. If something breaks, Matth can fix it. If there’s a dust-up or confrontation, Matth is big enough and strong enough to quiet it. He can basically do anything except legally perform the ceremony.

“Matth will be here.” Case closed.

Jaybo, whose house is in Maine but who flies all over the world — called me from London last week — can help Matth. A professional pilot and Navy veteran, he is Matth’s wingman — just in case Matth needs help, which he won’t. Jaybo is good at smiling, actually grinning, which the world needs more of. He’ll be our arm candy.

Ramz is, like me, fairly worthless and quick to admit it. “I can’t run or hit anymore, but I can throw,” Ramz told me, earnestly. I told him that’s great. If we divide up and play softball at the reception, Friends of the Groom vs. Friends of the Bride, he can pitch for both teams. That seemed to help his self-esteem. He’ll come in from St. Louis; he’s bringing his glove. I wish I were joking…

Ramz has also volunteered to be here just to sweep up, to try and handle any collateral damage. So far we have been instructed to gather up the battery-powered candles from the ceremony and get them to the reception venue. We are also to take The Big Main Floral Arrangement from the ceremony to the venue. I’m already thinking of how to apologize for me and Ramz messing up the flowers, which we surely will do. (Note to self: Stay very far away from the flowers; just tell Matth.)

A St. Louis University Hall of Fame broadcaster, Ramz has also offered to do play-by-play, very quietly, of the nuptials. “And there’s the kiss and that’ll do it from First Baptist! The ceremony took 22 minutes; 324 people paid to see it. Until next time…”

That sort of thing.

Since neither of these guys has many friends, I was the best man in each of their weddings. Now they’ll be the best men at Emily’s. She has no idea how lucky she is. But I do.