Andrew/Rebekah's Wedding 12/30/2005
     
    Rehearsal Party Roast
     

       

      Only you men over 35 here will understand the significance of this statement. I know more about Andrew Phelps than his tailor. You guys will have to explain the personal nature of that when I say I have the �inside� information. I�ve been asked to address this group and tell them things about Andrew that will make him blush.

      I�m sure that Andrew is thinking that giving me this carte� blanche setup is like giving Richard Petty a V8, like giving General Patton/Swartskof a tank, like giving Kavorkian a syringe, like giving Ted Kennedy the floor in a filibuster, like giving coffee to a preacher at revival. It IS.

      But putting me to task to say something that can make him blush is more of a challenge than you guys can imagine.
      Besides, he is a shameless man.
      And yes, I WOULD know.

      Can I embarrass him to tell you what he did when I first asked him to go get the paper? It was a Sunday morning and he was less than 2 years old. The driveway to that house was 120 yards long. Any other kid would have jumped back at the outrageousness of such a request. Instead he trotted out the road in his diaper and orthopedic shoes. He had to jump up to pull the paper out of its orange box. As he carried the paper back, I took Wanda out on the deck to see the awesome sight. He carried the paper like you or I would carry a 50# sack of feed. Compared to his size, the Sunday paper really WAS a 50# sack. When he got home with it, HIS smile was as big as mine.

      Can I embarrass him to tell you what he did at the family�s 4th of July picnic when he was 1 �? You won�t believe it until you see the pictures of a 20� tall guy holding 14� bbq tongs. But he took care of grilling the rib-eyes. He defined the phrase before it became popular on so many tee-shirts � �No Fear.�

      Maybe I can embarrass him to tell you about his politeness. One day Wanda and I were in the living room and Andrew was 3 or 4. He was playing and walking around while we read the paper. Every 10 minutes or so, Andrew would sweetly say �Excuse me� and continue on his way. We were awfully confused and it piqued our interest enough to ask him why. He said without the slightest hesitation, �I farted.�

      Can I embarrass him to tell you about flying a plane around Monroeville when he was 12? I was taking lessons from Buddy Greene and Andrew road in the backseat. After 45 minutes, we would trade places. I didn�t realize how much I was outclassed until the first day of landing lessons. I flew 8 or 9 times around the pattern doing touch and goes. Every time as I tried to get the timing right to flair and touch down, Buddy would scream �I have the plane� and take over the controls. It just was not working for me. When it was Andrew�s turn, he flew around the airport, pushed the throttle off, dropped flaps, turned onto final and set the wheels down about 100 feet from the numbers. Buddy said �Wow! That was perfect.� I sat in back and grumbled you little twit.

      I am not delusional to think that any of those things really embarrass Andrew. Why should they? Can I embarrass him for being courageous? For having fortitude? For being gifted in any endeavor he pursues? For being a gentleman in every aspect of the word? Of course not. It�s obvious that I can not. All I can say about Andrew Phelps, the man, is he would be the pride of any father and especially this one.

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