Memepark

My friend Forrester got married last night to Isin Dalkilic, at a lovely ceremony in Boston. Here is the toast I gave as best man (give or take a few flourishes in delivery):

The first time I laid eyes on Forrester, we were both freshman at MIT, rushing the same fraternity, and they had this sort of open-mic coffeehouse thing with people reading poetry and beating on bongos and all that kind of garbage. And I'm sitting here with my copy of On The Road and thinking I must be very, very hip when this serious young man takes the stage. He says, "I'm Forrester John Liddle, and I'd like to read a selection from Henry David Thoreau's Walden." And he launches into it and I'm thinking, "Who is this jerk? This guy takes himself way too seriously." (I may have been projecting just a little.) Sure enough, this guy goes on to become president of our pledge class, and I fall right in line behind him along with everyone else, because there's something about this guy, something that makes you want to follow his lead. And I think, "Maybe that's what taking yourself very seriously does for you." Except that, over the course of the year, he plays keep-away every few days with Mo's favorite hat, and he comes into my room one day that January to snap me out of my winter funk by dumping a box of snow over my head to wake me up, and he breaks into someone's room while the guy's away for the weekend and paints a big mural of Barney the dinosaur on the wall, and I realize: taking himself too seriously? That's not what's going on.

So. Cut to a few weeks ago. I organize this bachelor party pub crawl, and I'm supposed to be keeping my eye on things, make sure things are running smoothly so Forrester can cut loose and relax. Well, we're less than halfway down Mass Ave and already I'm completely useless, three sheets to the wind, blotto. And predictably enough, wihthout my guiding hand chaos has descended upon the group. The guy are out of control, Forrester's dad is dancing on the table -- anarchy. But somehow we all make it home safely. And then about a week later as I try to reconstruct the second half of the night from the photos people took, there's Forrester, and he's totally cutting loose: dancing, laughing, he's got his arms around everyone, clowning around; and yet, at the same time he's keeping an eye on everyone: making sure no one feels left out, that not one feels tired, or bored.

And I realize: it's not that he takes himself seriously; he takes the people around him seriously. That's why, as a young man, he commanded the attention of his elders. It's why younger students came to him for guidance. And it's why he's my most trusted friend; because of all the times I saw him reach out to people in need when no one else saw them, when sometimes they didn't even recognize their own need; because of all the times he spoke out against ignorance and injustice when everyone else was silent; and because of all the times that he believed in me when, sometimes, I didn't believe in myself. Because, in a cynical age, when manly virtue is difficult to recognize, Forrester embodies wisdom and compassion.

Which is why it's so nice to have someone come along who is ready to care about him and look after him and support him the way he has always cared about all of us, and looked after us, and supported us. I remember the first time Forrester told me about Isin, we were having lunch or something, and he starts describing this woman in his program, and he's clearly rattled: he's telling me how brilliant, and confident, and beautiful she is, and I can see that he has no idea what to do with this woman. He keeps saying, "But what can I do for her? What could she want from me? She's doing fine on her own." That was a real turning point for Forrester, because it's so much in his nature to give, but meeting someone else so giving and so loving has transformed him. He's been so much happier than I'd ever seen him before. And so, Isin, I want to thank you: for being who you are, and for loving my friend. Keep being happy together.