Posts tagged with "Aaron"

Aaron and Karen's Wedding

Bonding with Dennis and Rob

At the rehearsal din­ner I was lucky enough to meet Dennis, Aaron’s old­er cousin from Edinburgh, Scotland, and we imme­di­ate­ly hit it off. Some peo­ple don’t so much talk with you as at you, where­as talk­ing to oth­ers can be like drag­ging a stick through the mud, but for us it was the per­fect bal­ance. The art of con­ver­sa­tion is dead, we agreed, and find­ing each oth­er was like two Masonic broth­ers from dif­fer­ent lodges meet­ing for the first time.

Pat lat­er told me that, on arriv­ing, he did­n’t say hi to me for fear of inter­rupt­ing us. Our faces were so intense, focused on each oth­er, he said. Dennis and I exchanged con­tact info, and he offered me a place to stay if I ever went to Scotland. Normally, I’d brush off such an invi­ta­tion as a glib pleas­antry, if it weren’t for the fact that he repeat­ed it five or six times over both nights. In return, I offered him a place to stay if he ever want­ed to give Nana and Popa (whom he calls June and Vic) a break. It’s fun­ny, I nev­er knew their names until then.

I also had a good talk with Rob while Aaron and Chris were out­side smok­ing cig­ars that night (which turned into the morn­ing) before the wed­ding. We bond­ed over our love of Aaron, and I got to probe Rob, who’s deep enough for an entire entry I’ll be post­ing soon.

This is the Story of Aaron and Karen

Before I gave my speech, I showed this video as a way for every­one, but most impor­tant­ly Aaron and Karen, to know how the groom’s side felt. Notice the keg-can of Heineken in Trolley’s shots.

I learned a lot about being an inter­view­er, about ask­ing the right ques­tions, about try­ing not to laugh at fun­ny sto­ries. You can hear in the way I ask Jay (yel­low shirt), “In what way?”, that my cheeks are tight­ened in a big smile. I also real­ized that I should­n’t fin­ish oth­er peo­ples thoughts, which is a bad habit of mine. The inter­view­er should­n’t present any bias.

Everyone told me after­ward that they were touched by how Aaron spoke from the heart. The inter­est­ing thing is that peo­ple were laugh­ing at parts I did­n’t expect them to laugh at. In my speech too. I don’t write to be fun­ny; I can’t be a fun­ny per­son why I try. It hap­pens rather acci­den­tal­ly.

The speech did go well. I like how peo­ple start­ed say­ing, “Woo hoo!” and “Cheers to that!” for the toast. If you lis­ten close­ly after I give my thanks, there’s one per­son who claps well before any­one else, and I’ll for­ev­er be won­der­ing who it was and why they were clap­ping with such vig­or.

Wedding Opportunities

Thumbnail: Me in a kilt

The cer­e­mo­ny was short and sweet, though it was a lit­tle cold. The Prince Charlie jack­et does­n’t breathe, so the grooms­men were warm for most of it. I felt bad for the brides­maids though, who wore back­less, sleeve­less dress­es.

I caught up with Nick and Alison, whom I hope to see for a few pho­to projects down in that area at some point dur­ing the sum­mer (I wish I was able to bring my cam­era to the wed­ding though). I got to know Steph a lit­tle bet­ter, and you could tell from the way she talks that she real­ly cares about Trolley, which was impor­tant for me to find out. Hanging out with Jay was a blast too; he’s a real­ly fun, easy-going guy, and I can total­ly see why he’s such good friends with Aaron. Pat did some robot­ics for us to the Scottish dance music, and I had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to intro­duce him to Dennis, hop­ing that both con­ver­sa­tion­al­ists would hit it off.

We danced, we min­gled, we ate, we laughed. Weddings always offer great oppor­tu­ni­ties for such things. What oth­er chance would I have to wear some­thing as fun as the Scottish regalia (although Dennis explained to me that Ontario and Canada have their own tar­tans, and that I’d have the right to wear one if I want­ed).

A good time was had by all.

Aaron's Bachelor Party

The bach­e­lor par­ty went bet­ter than I could have ever planned. Aaron want­ed a week­end where the grooms­men could bond with each oth­er so ini­tial plans were to head to Montreal, but I sug­gest­ed to host it at my house, where I felt like I had the most con­trol.

Friday night was drink­ing with every­one at the Honest Lawyer. We got the biggest table there, and for a cou­ple hours it felt like we owned the bar with our large and row­dy group. There was much tom­fool­ery to which our lips are sealed, as is the cus­tom for any bach­e­lor par­ty, the footage of which will for­ev­er be locked in the vault. There’s noth­ing wrong with a drink or three though.

I even moon­walked (or some rea­son­able fac­sim­i­le there­of) around the perime­ter of the bar, weav­ing between groups of peo­ple, put up by Pat for 10 points. He said the fun­ni­est thing was see­ing every­one’s reac­tion. I was too busy mak­ing sure I did­n’t bump into any­one to notice that peo­ple stopped what they were doing and turned their heads as I passed them. When I closed the cir­cle the table cheered and I felt all eyes in the place on me. Something I nor­mal­ly avoid at all costs, but I’d be lying if I said it did­n’t feel good.

Thumbnail: Best fries in the city 
Thumbnail: Table left 
Thumbnail: Table left 
Thumbnail: Table left 
Thumbnail: Trolley and Aaron 
Thumbnail: Row of drinks 

It was also a meet­ing of the four boss­es, the last time of which was almost a year ago dur­ing the birth­day rounds. I was com­fort­ed know­ing that Aaron was at my front, Trolley to his right, and Pat to mine at the table. The next meet­ing will be at the wed­ding itself this week­end. Exciting!


By Saturday we reduced to the core group for the rest of the tour­na­ment, which was grooms­men and MC. You know you’re old when con­ver­sa­tion over break­fast is main­ly about bacon, arts and crafts, and cook­ing shows. The pound of bacon chal­lenge was worth 5 points, as evi­denced by the plate ded­i­cat­ed to pork, which Aaron and Rob eas­i­ly achieved.

Even though he did­n’t show up until Saturday after­noon, I got to meet Jay, who was the only one out of Aaron’s crew that I had­n’t met. The rest of the week­end was spent game play­ing, Nerf war­ring, ulti­mate fight­ing in the back­yard, and hang­ing out.

Thumbnail: Us being silly 1 
Thumbnail: Us being silly 2 
Thumbnail: Us being silly 3 
Thumbnail: Us being silly 4 

In the end, there just was­n’t enough time to do every­thing planned. I was also spread­ing myself thin between record­ing video, tak­ing pho­tos, and act­ing as organizer/host. Sometimes I wish I could be part of the action, but it’s more worth it to me to make sure the right angles, focus, com­po­si­tions are tak­en. Still an absolute blast.

Multitasking Emotions

Left screen, I’m going over the bach­e­lor par­ty footage. We’re recov­er­ing from a night of drink­ing over bacon and eggs in a high-cor­ner wide-angle shot. Right screen, I’m talk­ing to Aaron on Messenger.

Aaron: bro, you know I love you
Aaron: like for real
Aaron: no shit
Jeff: thanks man, i love you too
Aaron: no ‘you’re my bro’ shit
Aaron: the real deal

No ‘You’re my bro’ shit”, he says. Bro. The word we some­times use to remind each oth­er that we’re fam­i­ly. Nothing emas­cu­lates some like the “l” word, but we’re passed that.

you know I love you”. He was first to say it this time, and it cat­alyzes the tears down my face.

The video’s still play­ing. In it we’re ebul­lient, frat­er­niz­ing, and I can’t help but laugh along too.

I remem­ber anoth­er time, about three years ago, when I broke down after deal­ing with my mom and her incor­ri­gi­ble ways. I rolled a joint and smoked it as soon as I got off the phone. As the weed went to my brain, my mood evened out. I was numb to the pain but the tears did­n’t stop, like a phys­i­cal reflex.

What a strange feel­ing it was to be cry­ing and laugh­ing or stoned at the same time.

Life is the same way. It’s nev­er black and white, and there’s no absolute right or wrong. There are grey areas, points of pas­sion between plea­sure and pain.

Even cry­ing from joy is an enig­mat­ic micro­cosm of such an idea. I remem­ber doing so only one oth­er time, at the end of grade 7, dur­ing the final audi­tions for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. Out of 10 schools, we were com­pet­ing to spend the sum­mer singing on stage with Donny Osmond. When they announced the name of our school we jumped out of our seats in cheer, but I could feel my face gri­mace from the emo­tion, tears fill­ing up my eyes. It’s as if you’re over­tak­en by sad­ness that you’ll nev­er feel as hap­py again.

Like yin and yang, one does­n’t exist with­out the oth­er, and often they exist at once.

Kilted Groomsmen

You’re the per­fect woman.”

She real­izes this as she writes down my chest, waist, and hip size, then asks rhetor­i­cal­ly, “What are the typ­i­cal­ly ide­al mea­sure­ments?”.

Aaron and I could only look at each oth­er, as we had no idea.

36–26–36.”

Wow, so you’re a real­ly hot chick!”, says Aaron.

Hi-LAR-ious. Years of con­fi­dence I’ve gained, girl­friends con­vinc­ing me that I’m not too skin­ny, gone.

Reduced to a male fan­ta­sy, I’m my own dream girl.

And how much do you weigh?”

(Pause)…113”.

After he’s had a buf­fet”, Aaron adds. My friend the come­di­an. To con­sole me, he says, “It’s okay. Remember, you’ll be paired up with Jenn in the par­ty”.

My coun­ter­part. The tini­est girl I know.

Thumbnail: Aaron's wedding band

In the last few years I’ve been to wed­dings for oth­er friends, but Aaron’s the first out of my core group to get mar­ried (although Pat got engaged before him). To pay trib­ute to his cul­ture, he wants the wed­ding to be a bit Scottish — some­thing his Popa is espe­cial­ly pleased about.

As a grooms­man, I’ll be wear­ing a kilt. As a Chinese guy, I’ll be feel­ing a lit­tle out-of-place.

Thumbnail: Matching the sporran and kilt colours
Thumbnail: Comparing sporrans
Thumbnail: Ghillie Brogues
Thumbnail: Ghillie Brogues

He asked me to give him a hand in shop­ping for the regalia. What a cul­ture shock. Looking through cat­a­logues of claid­heamh, sporrans, Sgian Dubhs, Ghillies Brogues. I can’t even pro­nounce the names. My tongue was­n’t made for these kinds of inflec­tions.

It’ll take you guys longer to get dressed than the bride”.

Before we leave I remem­ber to ask, “Can we go tra­di­tion­al?”, with Aaron adding, “My Popa would be pret­ty upset if we did­n’t”.

Traditional. The euphemism for com­man­do. The euphemism for bear-ass naked.

Don’t wor­ry, every­thing is dry-cleaned”, say the woman reas­sur­ing­ly.

It’s only after we leave that I real­ize every­thing but the shirt is made of wool.

I’ll be scratch­ing my balls through the whole ser­vice.