Bear Week

Newsletter 2019-07-29

It's finally here: Bear Week. Harry drove from Texas to Missouri over the weekend, and—depending on what time you're reading this—should now be at our parents’ house in Illinois. The bear—the climax of a prank seven years in the making—is dressed and gift wrapped, waiting only for a team of smugglers to transport him to the wedding reception for his big day. My house is clean and stocked with sixteen pounds of steak and hundreds of dollars worth of beer and snacks, ready for a bachelor party that—if we do it right—none of us will remember. My best man speech—including the big bear reveal in the epilogue—has been rehearsed to the point where it’s ingrained in my soul, which probably means I’ll forget every word of it once someone hands me the microphone. The next few days will determine whether all the plans I’ve shared with you over these many, many months bear fruit or blow up in our faces. I, for one, am excited. And utterly terrified.

The official start of the wedding festivities is…