CALL ME SNAKE

I’m back from the weddin,’ which was one classy affair and a rollickin’(sp?) good time to boot. My cousin and his wife did not rent a function hall like most normal people do. No, they do things their way, taking over an entire bridge in downtown Nashville and putting on a fireworks show for the whole city to enjoy. Once again, I was outdone by my younger, smarter, and more successful cousin. The justice of the peace introduced him as “the man who brought the sport of rock, paper, and scissors to Nashville.” He and his then bride-to-be even did a round of rock, paper, and scissors to determine who said their vows first, which may have been another first in Nashville and perhaps the world. I was flanked at the proceedings by yet another distinguished cousin–a Californian known as “the man who brought roofball to Santa Monica.” He has a fully-illuminated, regulation-size roofball court that meets all the specs set by the International Roofball Association (IRBA). He is, moreover, the neighborhood’s reigning roofball champ–this in a neighborhood that includes many former participants on Hollywood Squares. What can I say? It’s one heck of a talented family–downright intimidating in fact. I keep worrying that one day they’re going to realize I’m an imposter and throw me out. The way I figure it, there’s one way to ensure my place, both within this overachieving family and in the history books as well: I’m working hard (inspired by our hard-working president: “it’s hard…, it’s hard…”) to be “the man who brought world-class, competitive tiddlywinks to Boston.”