What follows is the speech I gave at an old Army friend’s wedding in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in November of this year.
I’ve known Don for twenty-two years. My earliest memories of him are from Ft. Huachuca wherein I thought, “Who’s that old guy running in our group?” [aside: he’s only five years my elder]. I have a few brothers, but Don has been like a bonus brother over the last couple of decades. I’ve always admired—maybe even envied—all the things he could do. I have helped him install French doors and build beds from lumber we bought at Lowe’s, not that he needed my help in the first place. At best I offered an extra set of hands. I’ve sat on couches adorned with slipcovers he made. “Fabric-welding” he called it.
When she started crawling, Don moved the outlets by his living room TV four feet from the floor to protect his daughter, Hunter, from an unpleasant zap. Truth to tell, he probably saved himself a lot of hypervigilance too. After all, the outlets couldn’t shock her if she couldn’t reach them. Genius! I’ve seen him reseed a lawn with a Cub Cadet and the spring from an old mattress.
From afar, I’ve marveled at the shop he built in Rio Rancho and shaken my head at the patent he received. It makes sense that he got it. The dude’s brilliant.
To top it all off, his charisma is unparalleled. Whether he was singing Johnny Cash’s “I’ve Been Everywhere” as a running cadence or drawing you in with a joke that you don’t realize is a joke until the punchline hits or playing a song on a 6-string guitar he found under a dusty bed, when Don’s mouth is moving, you’re listening. Then, adding insult to injury, the guy still has great hair and an immaculate beard! Couldn’t you have shared at least something with the rest of us mortals? You’ve kept it all.
Despite all these examples and dozens upon dozens of others I didn’t list, I’ve realized that his most admirable trait has nothing to do with what he can create or how he performs to an audience. You see, the more I live, the harder it is to impress me. I’m not being cynical. I just know what’s important to me. I contend that his single most admirable trait is his capacity to give and receive love. This is Don’s most redeeming quality. It’s the measure of a man I hold myself to when I think of who I want to be when I grow up. It’s not what he does that I so admire; no, it’s how he does it.
His craftsmanship, his quick wit, and his baritone voice wouldn’t mean a thing to me if not for his track record of loving his people deeply. I am honored to be his friend. I am grateful for his love. Furthermore, I am privileged to love him back. My inner circle is tight and Don orbits right at the center of it. I’m sure you’ve heard about the others in that circle, Carrie.
So, Carissa Vender, I want to welcome you to this fold of lovable misfits. Thank you for loving my friend and for letting him love you back. I remember when I first connected with you I thanked you for making my friend happy. Your reply was as poignant as it was succinct. “It’s easy. I absolutely adore him.” He did great in choosing you, and you him. Each of you carries a precious cargo in the other’s heart. Cherish it.
