By the power invested in him by the Internet, my boy is performing the marriage ceremony of his two best friends tomorrow afternoon. That's the Rev in the photo, with my mother, on a night out in New Orleans two years ago. (Mom had no idea she was posing under a nude painting.)
The Rev has been uncharacteristically organized and serious about his appointed duty and the responsibility therein. He's purchased a new suit, trimmed his hair and beard. He has a plan and a script and seems - for the moment, at least - confident and calm.
I, on the other hand, am a nervous wreck. His father and I will be in attendance and I won't catch my breath until he utters the words, "I now pronounce you husband and wife." Then, I'll laugh uncontrollably because, seriously, the last thing I ever imagined happening in life was my son becoming a "man of the cloth."