Trinity

  I have only once been asked to be the Best Man at a wedding.  I have been a groomsman a couple of times, but being the Best Man is an awesome responsibility.  Although in this case, it wasn't as much of a responsibility as someone not knowing what to do.  

 My brother was getting married to Susan Maxwell at Trinity Episcopal Church in Columbia.  Some call it a "cathedral".  It was 1974.  Trinity is a very dignified church.  Some call it "high church".  John was pretty nervous.  We were in a room off of the sanctuary.  As his Best Man, I was trying to calm him down, but it wasn't working.  He was pacing back and forth, while I was trying to get him to sit down.  My father had been back there, too, but he was doing some of the ceremony and had to go into the sanctuary to be there before us.  I knew what the cue was to come out to the sanctuary with my brother.  He was more than ready.

 I was standing next to him in the sanctuary.  Susan came walking down the aisle.  We were all smiling.  Then, something happened to me.  My nose starting itching.  I don't know why, but I felt I couldn't take away from their moment, so I tried to just cope.  I really wanted to scratch my nose, but John would have killed me, so I just tried to endure the itch.

 When the wedding was over, we filed out onto the front lawn of the church.  John and Susan had to catch a flight to Paris for their honeymoon, so they were running to his car to get to the airport.  Someone took a picture of their run, and I got in that picture.  I was finally scratching my nose.  When they got the wedding pictures back, John was furious at me.  He thought I was picking my nose, as they were running across the lawn.  It was the only picture of them doing that.  I insisted that I wasn't picking my nose, but only scratching it.  He didn't believe me.  To this day, I can honestly tell you that it was a scratch and not a pick.  At least, that is my story, and I'm sticking to it.