And a happy Davefest to one and all
Bowing to popular demand, and to commemorate the blessèd event, here's the toast I gave at Dave and Sharon's wedding. I also do bar mitzvahs.
I've known Dave for a while now–going on six years, dating back to our freshman year together living on Carman 11 at Columbia. And I'm proud to have called him my friend since then.
You know, we loved Dave and all, but for whatever reason, things usually didn't go Dave's way back then–which was par for the course for being a Boston sports fan at the time. Years and years of watching the Red Sox and the Patriots and for the most part the Celtics, raise your hopes and then come crashing down must do something to a person. And you get to the point–I'm not from Boston or anything, but you get to the point where you start rooting for the Red Sox or the Patriots or the Celtics because of people like Dave, because you believe that the world can be fair sometimes.
So on the last Sunday in January, 2002, somehow the New England Patriots find themselves in the Super Bowl. Of football. Which is a big deal. And I got together with a bunch of friends, including Dave, to watch the game and root for the Pats.
It was a good game and the Patriots won, but this was the odd thing: Dave didn't watch most of the game. He was by the television every now and then, but he spent the majority of the time in a suite down the hall. He said that some girl he knew had an awful cold, and needed chicken soup and tea and some company. And he was happy when the Patriots won, but I have a feeling he would have been happy either way at that point.
Not knowing Sharon at the time, a lot of us had a hard time fathoming who could be keeping Dave from the telos of Boston fandom. But it all made sense once we met her.
Sharon, I think it's safe to say that you bring out the best in Dave. I never knew him to be as happy as he is when he's with you, and it makes me so happy to know that he'll be with you for the rest of your lives after today. I and everyone else here wish you long, joyous lives together.
I've known Dave for a while now–going on six years, dating back to our freshman year together living on Carman 11 at Columbia. And I'm proud to have called him my friend since then.
You know, we loved Dave and all, but for whatever reason, things usually didn't go Dave's way back then–which was par for the course for being a Boston sports fan at the time. Years and years of watching the Red Sox and the Patriots and for the most part the Celtics, raise your hopes and then come crashing down must do something to a person. And you get to the point–I'm not from Boston or anything, but you get to the point where you start rooting for the Red Sox or the Patriots or the Celtics because of people like Dave, because you believe that the world can be fair sometimes.
So on the last Sunday in January, 2002, somehow the New England Patriots find themselves in the Super Bowl. Of football. Which is a big deal. And I got together with a bunch of friends, including Dave, to watch the game and root for the Pats.
It was a good game and the Patriots won, but this was the odd thing: Dave didn't watch most of the game. He was by the television every now and then, but he spent the majority of the time in a suite down the hall. He said that some girl he knew had an awful cold, and needed chicken soup and tea and some company. And he was happy when the Patriots won, but I have a feeling he would have been happy either way at that point.
Not knowing Sharon at the time, a lot of us had a hard time fathoming who could be keeping Dave from the telos of Boston fandom. But it all made sense once we met her.
Sharon, I think it's safe to say that you bring out the best in Dave. I never knew him to be as happy as he is when he's with you, and it makes me so happy to know that he'll be with you for the rest of your lives after today. I and everyone else here wish you long, joyous lives together.
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