Blather and Understatement

Not just the name of a band formed by two former colleagues in a past life, but an appropriate title for what you will read in this post, if you so choose.

Over the span of the last nine days, I've done something I never imagined and something I said I'd never do again. Both were gratifying in their own way, and both were emotionally exhausting.

A week ago Friday, I married my step-brother. It's legal, apparently, not that we be married -- but that I could officiate his marriage to his wife -- a perfectly heterosexual female, in case anyone cares. By virtue of my online ordination with the Universal Life Church, I may legally officiate weddings, funerals, and all sorts of "religious" observances.

Though my previous experience was limited to "funerals" for a pet dog and cat, I confidently officiated the wedding on a sun-splashed beach in Jacksonville, Fla. I didn't realize going in how meaningful it would be to me.

I was armed with a "sermon" found on the Internets -- modified slightly by a reading of John Lennon's "Love" by Scott's real brother, Michael, and taped inside the pages of a Brett Favre book that appropriately served as the bible for this holy ceremony. I said -- or rather, read -- some things about marriage that seemed to strike a cord with many in attendance. Afterward, several people asked me if I had written it. One woman even asked where my church is.

There are no plans to open Lonnie's Mega Church anytime soon, and I'm not sure my ordination will serve me again. This wedding was special, and I think that's what made it so gratifying. However, ordination lasts a lifetime and I'm always open to new experiences.

Today, I was director -- again -- of the second annual rain-shortened play-like-it's-spring-damnit! baseball tournament (not its official name). You don't have to be crazy to run a baseball tournament, but it sure helps.

For the second year in as many tries, Mother Nature was not our friend. Last year, a mid-week snowfall forced us move parts of the tournament and confine others to Sunday only. This year, persistent rain and cold and Murphy's Law mucked things up again. After reshuffling the deck for a Sunday-only tournament again, it was apparent on Saturday that we had to cancel altogether.

Except we had a team in from Chicago that was already in the area. After a less-than-satisfying tournament experience in Kansas City last summer, I was determined not to let this team return home without playing any baseball. So we moved the 14-year-olds to the only field close to playable, and made it happen for four teams.

It was still too cold for baseball -- maybe 43 in the sun and behind a wind block -- but four teams were able to play six games over the course of nine hours. Perhaps appropriately, the Chicago team took home the hardware. My son's team gave reason for optimism and I was proud as ever to see Zach step up to the plate, take his position at shortstop and, for the first time in probably five years, start a game at pitcher. On the day, he pitched 2-1/3 innings of no-hit baseball.

Me? I'm spent. The mundane and routine sounds pretty appealing right now.