Instead of making off with the rings and with the cash used to pay off the peripheral wedding personnel, I stayed and made this toast as best man:
To B—- and H—-. One a dreamer, one practical. Jane Austen would have called this a good match. Fortunately, we didn’t have to suffer through 300 pages of Victorian prose to celebrate with them today. Yesterday was the first day of summer, but today is the first day of their spring. May they have many seasons, many fruitful seasons, together.
Yeah, I know, Jane Austen was pre-Victorian. Nobody in the back of the bar in the middle of Wisconsin called me on it. Probably didn’t want to start an argument about Jane Austen on the big day.
