I was once asked to pinch-hit as Best Man in a wedding (I’m proud to say that I’ve had this high honor four times). As odd as it sounds, there is a logic. You see, it was the second nupitals for my friend/colleague, Brian, and he thought it bad luck to replicate his original wedding party. Makes sense to me. And his mentor had bailed on the role as his second (what a dick!). In truth, we were more drinking buddies than close friends. It was the mid-90’s with three of us, doing separate imaging fellowships, trolling around Fells Point in Baltimore in search of the usual things. Chuck was a barrel-chested, ruddy-faced guy from Jersey. Rough around the edges but with a kind heart that he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep hidden. He also had a habit of quietly disappearing from bars after one too many (The Irish Goodbye). I once woke up on his couch with a foul-smelling concoction of chewing tobacco and spit within inches of my head. I can still smell it.
Brian was another one roughly-cut and had just come down from New York. We met in line at orientation and I took an immediate dislike to him. He was going on-and-on insufferably about how much better NYC was than Baltimore. The Big City had everything you could ever want, including great corned beef sandwiches at 4am. He was brash and loud and highly-opinionated. But over time, as with many of that mold, I came to see how this surface armor masked an inner vulnerability. He had been adopted as a child, had one failed marriage to his name already, and was long-distance dating a wealthy girl in New York whose parents clearly did not like him. He was kind, gave sound advice, and he loved to laugh. After a bumpy start, we got along quite well. It was a lesson for me in staying open to the possibilities within people. And so I wasn’t surprised when he called to say that he was inviting both Chuck and me down to Texas for the wedding. A few months went by and we each got another call that elevated us to the wedding party (Chuck showed up in a cowboy hat he purchased at the airport and began calling himself “Tex”… you get the idea). A month or so after that, I got a third call from Brain asking me to be his Best Man. I hadn’t yet met his betrothed but I didn’t hesitate to accept. That answer should always be a hard-yes.
Brian had been working in San Antonio for about a year. It was July 4th weekend, so by definition very hot. The night before the wedding, we were all hanging by the pool and I still hadn’t finalized my big wedding toast. Several of his local friends, a few years younger than us, were passing around a joint and casually asked me about it. After partaking, things got a bit philosophical, as they do, and the conversation naturally “drifted” to the subject of Pangea — the giant supercontinental land-mass from which all the major continents originated (a few thousand years ago). They laughed at my tangential thought line, since I had brought it up, but then began egging me on to incorprate it into my toast. Challenge accepted!
So when the time came, I got up and took my place in front of the band. I shouted, “hit it boys!” — which I do whenever I find myself in that position — but nary a rim-shot (C’mon!). Then I launched into a heartfelt philosophical about people remaining connected despite whatever drift might have separated them in physical space. There were exactly two shout-outs from the crowd (the stoners!) while everyone else seemed utterly mystified. Oh, well… But I closed strong with warm words of encouragement for the newlyweds before finishing with a song quote from Neil Young, “Long may you run!”
They divorced a few years later.
But, still, there’s a real comfort, I believe, in knowing that we all started off in essentially the same place… and that we’ll end up there, too. That place is called Pangea.
Great Exudations 