Never trust anyone

In the early June following my 8th grade year, my brother Ted got married in Houston, Texas. Ted had spent two years at Lon Morris (Junior) College in Longview, Texas, and had met his future wife, Dale, there.

The traditional June wedding was held at Dale’s church in southwest Houston. I was an usher, along with some of my various cousins (we had tons of cousins) and, along with my brother Mark, we took responsibility for ensuring that Ted’s car was suitably decorated for his honeymoon departure.

However, Ted had a rather devious plan to avoid taking a fully-decorated car on his honeymoon. He parked his car in front of the church on the day of the wedding, but he had arranged with my parents to borrow their car for the honeymoon, and he had left the car in the driveway of an elderly gentleman (a good friend) who lived a few blocks away from the church.

He would leave the church with all the traditional good wishes and rice-throwing, drive his car to the friend’s house, change to Mom & Dad’s car, and then leave on his honeymoon unscathed. However, the elderly gentleman¹ approached me and my brother Mark at the wedding and said, “I really hate to see Ted leave town in an undecorated vehicle,” and handed us the keys to the car.

We drove over to his house, decorated that car fully, then came back to the church for some light shaving cream and shoe polish action on Ted’s car. Ted & Dale were a bit surprised when they got out of Ted’s car at the friend’s house, expecting a clean getaway.

You really can’t trust anyone.