Wedding Story With a Twist

by Woody

STRAW_CoverWoody’s highly anticipated new book “STRAWBERRIES IN WINTERTIME: Essays on Life, Love, and Laughter” is NOW available! Order your signed copy HERE! 

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Wedding Love Story With a Twist

We felt like interlopers, nearly, in Agoura Hills last Saturday. But like the “Wedding Crashers” characters played by Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn, my wife and I had an absolute blast.

To be honest, being invited was a surprise because the only person I knew was the groom.

Added honesty: the invitation made my heart sing, as did the tearful bear hug my tuxedoed friend greeted me with before the ceremony. You would have thought we went back two decades instead of only a couple years.

But, as one of the groomsmen noted in his dinner toast, that is the magic of Jon – he makes all his friends feel like they are his best one.

Jon has many more magical qualities, perhaps none more endearing than how he wears his heart on his sleeve. Actually, his heart seems to be tattooed on his wrist.

Jon and his dad

Jon and his dad

So it was no surprise that as each groomsman and bridesmaid walked down the aisle, Jon’s tears flowed. When the bride appeared, the trickle became Niagara Falls. His visible love was almost as beautiful as the bride herself.

After exchanging lovely vows and rings and a first kiss as wife and husband, Jon stomped on a glass and the gathering shouted “Mazel tov!” – Congratulations! – and the party was on.

Later, as the DJ earned his pay and the dance floor earned its rental fee, I spotted the father of the groom across the ballroom sitting alone at the head table. After introducing myself, the DNA source of Jon’s warmth was obvious.

I wanted to tell him about my first meeting with his son. As he had talked about his writing career, Jon lit up; discussing music and movies, he beamed more; and when he spoke about Natasha, whom he had only recently started dating, he fairly glowed.

But even this joy grew 100 watts brighter when Jon began sharing stories about his dad. This is what I shared, for while the dad certainly already knew about Jon’s love for him. it is always nice to hear such things.

In his toast, Jon’s dad had mentioned how his son phones him at midnight just to say “hi,” or to share this or that, or tell him to listen to a certain song. When Pavarotti died, Jon called in tears because he remembered listening to “The Three Tenors” with his “Pops.”

“How did you become such good friends with your son?” the father privately told me he is often asked. His answer: “I did the opposite of what my dad did.”

He explained that his own dad, a child of The Great Depression, felt his fatherhood duties began and ended with paying the mortgage and putting food on the table. And so he didn’t attend Little League games or Boy Scout gatherings. He gave reprimand, not praise, for report cards with even one B.

Jon’s father did the opposite. He went to every youth game and cheered for his son off the playing fields as well. He took young Jon to trading card shows far and near. He showed an interest in his son’s interests. He gave his time and offered praise and, no small thing, frequently told all his children he loved them.

In short, he was the dad he had not had.

When Jon was 8, his father shared with me proudly, Jon found a wallet containing $100 and on his own turned it into the police. This is not surprising after spending time with Jon’s role model.

Indeed, that private time off to the side of the ballroom, off the dance floor and away from the excitement, visiting with Jon’s dad was every bit as heartwarming as the wedding vows and cake-cutting ceremony and toasts recollecting how Natasha knew Jon was “the one” after their first date and how it wasn’t long before Jon proposed on bended knee in the aisle of a Southwest flight 30,000 feet in the sky.

I came to the wedding knowing Jon was a special man, but I left knowing why he chose his dad to serve as his “best man.”

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Woody Woodburn writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com.

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