30 april 01

Dave's wedding was surprisingly moving. I say surprisingly not because I expected less from this particular event, but because the weddings I've been to, generally speaking, have been very planned, official, by-the-book affairs. Dave's mom was frantic, Jeremy didn't cue the "here comes the bride" music quite on time, the ring needed serious finagling to make it past Dave's knuckle. And afterwards, at the reception, Dave's brother John gave the best Best Man's toast I have heard yet. When he was done, Dave's dad stood and toasted Dave and Janet. And then a neighbor of Dave's family, and then his Aunt, and then two friends from high school. People who so obviously loved Dave (Janet's family, being from the Philippines, could not be in attendance) kept standing and expressing their wishes that he and Janet live a successful life together. And when no more guests rose from their seats to toast, Dave stood up—my friend Dave, who has never been one to voluntarily speak in front of a crowd or to easily express his emotions—told his wife that he loved her, and that he would always love her. That she is the strongest and bravest person that he had ever met, and he thanked her for being strong enough and brave enough to come halfway around the world to go on this adventure with him. I don't remember everything he said but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't pretty much in tears when he was done. And that is all I have to say here about Dave's wedding.

The rest of the weekend was quite enjoyable. One of Dave's friends is a standup comic and a bunch of us went to see him that night in Cambridge. His name is Eugene Murman (though I may not be spelling that correctly) and he performs on Thursday nights here in New York at the Gershwin Hotel. Go. He's funny.

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Last night at my parents' house our love bird Sweety died. He was a gift for my ninth birthday and was 16 years old.