Cheers to a classic
One month ago today, my brother Jeff married my sister-in-law Sinead in what might be the greatest pre-coronavirus celebration ever. I was the best man, and this is the speech I read that night. It reads a little strange, and there is a prop involved (you’ll see) but I hope this helps capture some of the incredible love I have for my brother and Sinead — my family.
How many people here were at my wedding?
If you were there, you know that I was not the star of my wedding. Jeff was. Not only did he officiate my marriage to Gaal, but he also gave the best man speech, so he held the floor through most of the evening.
And it was absolutely magnetic. He was off book, walking around working the floor like he was getting paid to be there.
It was like watching Jon Taffer do Shakespeare. Except I don’t think Shakespeare ever used the term “poop crayon” in any of his plays.
Jeff is a hard act to follow. You didn’t need to be at my wedding to know that. He is, at all times and in any situation, the center of the room, and it has always been that way.
I’ve spent my life following Jeff, often to my benefit. He did all the firsts so that I didn’t have to. He was the first to start school. The first to get a dog. The first to start losing his hair.
Our birthdays are a year and three days apart, and sometimes I would resent him always being first. When it was our birthday week, I would argue that I was actually the older sibling. “No,” I’d whine, “I’m turning six, you’re turning five.”
Jeff has a phrase for this behavior. He calls it “having the biggest antlers.” Sometimes I’d whine long enough that I’d get to be 6, and I’d have the biggest antlers. And when that didn’t work, I’d just break his fire truck.
I think I’ve been writing his speech since those days, piecing it together in the back of my mind. But it wasn’t until my wedding night in 2018 that everything clicked.
See, I thought that, by getting married first, even though I’m the younger sibling, I’d be able to set off on my own, start my own life in Minnesota, free of the need to tailgate Jeff into every big milestone.
But after his best man speech, something didn’t feel right. There was an imbalance that needed correcting.
So…I figured I’d take my chance to break a few fire trucks.
When I sat down to finally write this speech after letting it gestate in my mind for decades, I thought, “FINALLY, I’ll have my moment, I’ll be able to say everything I’ve ever felt about my big brother, honestly and wholly mine.” But when I tried to write it, I couldn’t find my own words.
You see, besides the antlers thing, Jeff has a lot of go-to phrases. Little, perfect, ridiculous idioms that capture any situation. It’s part of what makes him a hard act to follow. He makes himself undeniable. Unforgettable. His antlers dig into your very vocabulary.
You probably know a few of these phrases by heart. You’ve probably heard him say that “the best ability is availability.” Or that “usedta is a rooster from Brewster.” Or that “it’s not enough to want it… you gotta fuckin’ want it.”
Sweating at the reception. Real shame. You hate to see it.
Sinead didn’t know Jeff was a hard act to follow when she started working at the Wentworth radio station with him. She didn’t care. She had no idea what an antler was, or that “cheap is a disease,” or that “there’s nothing more honest than naked.” She didn’t even know that she liked him, Jeff had to convince her of that. But of course he did. Jeff convinces everyone of everything.
One time, he told me, “the further people get away from water, the weirder they are,” and I believed that so dogmatically that I moved to a state with 11,842 lakes.
When Jeff and Sinead started dating in 2009, a prolific new era of sloganeering started. Since then, we’ve been given a whole new lexicon of Jeffrey Phrases. He might be the center of the room, but she is the center of the universe. When Jeff’s in the car, every song that comes on the radio is somehow about Sinead.
Now, I know the difference between being ready and being Sinead ready. I know that sometimes Sinead is a good Sinead, but a lot of times she’s a bad Sinead. Though they sound odd, these are the sentiments of a deep and abiding love.
Sinead defies Jeff to his core. She challenges him incessantly. Because of this, over the past 11 years, she has become my greatest ally, monkeywrenching Jeff into a vulnerable state so I could mount this antler comeback. But she also taught me that isn’t the point.
Love is not a zero sum game. It is something you grow into, not out of. You bring everything to the center around you so that you can lift up the people you love. And you maintain that forever.
Since he met Sinead, I have watched my brother transform both in word and action. His love for her, and her frankly inexplicable love for him, have become the most stabilizing, dependable force in my life since, well, Jeff.
I may have gotten married first, but Jeff was the first to venture into true lifelong partnership, and the first to be humble enough to give every part of himself to someone else. That’s why I can stand here today and get rid of this symbol.
This is the point in the speech when I took off the antlers. They also broke, but that wasn’t planned.
Brothers are complicated. They turn very simple things like admiration into a lifelong arm wrestle. They argue who is older and roast each other on the most important nights of their lives. And it takes unexpected grace to make it all make sense. Someone strong enough to reset us. Someone who can pry us apart long enough to make us realize how important we are to each other.
This is a very abstract type of person. One that is hard to distill into words. But luckily Jeff has just the phrase for it.
Classic Sinead.
