Rehearsal dinner speech – 11/7/02
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Mike Hamilton. I suppose I am officially one of Derek’s Texas friends, though in truth that’s a bit of a misnomer, as we’re all sick of him and glad he left.
Unlike the rest of my friends, I can’t remember the first time I met Derek, which I think is a testament to just how unimpressive I find him to be. I’ve talked to Derek about this, and together we can narrow it down to a range of months in which we were likely to have met each other, but neither of us can point to the genesis of our relationship. It is because of this fact that my friendship with Derek has taken on a timeless feeling – in many ways, I feel that Derek has always been my friend. I feel he has always been there for me in my times of need. Has always been there to share my triumphs and my failures. Has always been there to urge me to spend beyond my means, or to convince me to gorge myself on cheap Mexican food, or to demand that I accompany him during the most trivial and ridiculous of errands. Whether it’s picking up his dry cleaning or shopping for Copenhagen, trying on corduroy pants or shopping for custom built marine aquariums, the purchase of which would ultimately be rejected by his credit card company, you can bet that Derek dragged me with him.
Derek is an exhausting person to befriend. He demands constant attention. And if you refuse, he uses a combination of guilt and rage to coerce and cajole you into complying with his wishes. I can’t tell you the number of times that Derek has officially ended our friendship and “severed ties” with me because I was unavailable for brunch.
I’m not sure what the word you use in Miami is, but in Houston, we have a word that describes Derek . . . and that word is asshole.
In sharp contrast to Derek, I remember the exact moment that I met Alina. It was August of 2000 and I was in Miami for Derek’s birthday party. (Another event he demanded that I attend.) I was sitting on the Leon family couch in the living room. There are Cubans yelling at each other all around me, the birthday party preparations are going on, and there’s a group of us about to go for a trip on Dr. Leon’s boat – where I would later break my ankle. (When Dr Leon looked at my ankle – his advice was “keep it elevated, and uh, don’t sue.”)
So I’m sitting on the couch, surrounded by a cacophony of voices, when the doorbell rings. I didn’t actually hear the doorbell ring, but I knew it had because Becky announced that fact at the top of her lungs. The door is answered, and in walks this gorgeous creature. She lit up the room. It suddenly felt as if the whole living room gasped. And then I realized that I had just sat on Carpe.
I have to admit that I am afraid of Alina. Derek is a stubborn, hard-headed, irritating, tenacious, pit bull of a man. So any woman that can tame him, could easily dispatch me with little effort.
Over the past couple of years of observing Alina, I’ve noticed that she usually gets her way, and she does so in three primary ways. There are three “faces of Alina” if you will. There’s “passive aggressive Alina”:
“We can live wherever you want Pee-pee. I don’t care. We can live in Houston, Miami, whatever. When we have kids I need to live in Miami. But I don’t care Pee-pee, wherever you want, really . . .”
There’s what I call “aggressive aggressive Alina”:
“Pee-pee pow pow! Pow pow Pee-pee! I’m gonna start yelling right now! In five seconds from this moment I am going to be yelling at you Pee-pee!”
Finally, there’s “volcanic Alina”:
Alina voice: “Pee-pee, what are you doing?”
Derek voice: “I’m eating a stromboli.”
Alina: “No, Pee-pee, you’re a little heavy. You don’t need stromboli.”
Derek: “Baby, I’m hungry.”
Alina: “No Pee-pee. We have wedding pictures coming up.”
Derek: “Baby, I’m gonna eat the stomboli.”
Alina: “Pee-pee you FAT BASTARD! You’re going to get diabetes and go blind and need insulin shots in your arms like every day and you’re going to die and leave me all alone you inconsiderate fat baastaaaarrd!”
Seriously though, when toasting the bride and groom, I try to say something nice about each of them, and that’s very easy when it comes to Alina. I could talk about her brilliance, or her charm, or her kindness, or her confidence or her professional and personal successes. But in truth, I think that no words can express how I feel about Alina better than the simple fact that my wife and I asked her to be madrina to my only little daughter. I think that says it all.
Derek is a harder case. It is especially hard to say nice things about a person who so recently broke my heart. Derek’s move in August was a deep blow to me personally. I have many friends that I love, and that love me. In truth, I have a wealth of good friends to whom I can turn in times of need.
But Derek is my only friend that truly listens to me. He listens to every insignificant word. And he remembers, because he cares. Over the past several years, more than anyone else, he has learned the story of my life, my hopes and dreams, together with my deepest fears and insecurities. And it is because of this that he has become invaluable to me as a friend, advisor and confidant.
When Erin and I decided to try to get pregnant, Derek is the first person I told. I went to Derek’s office first when I was thinking about leaving the firm. And it was Derek that got the call when, while house sitting for Tom, I lost control of my bowels and shit the bed.
Derek is greatly talented, yet disarmingly humble. He is strongly principled, but fiercely loyal to his friends and family. He is possessed with a childlike zeal for life and its simple pleasures, and yet is wise beyond his years. In short, he possesses the qualities I wish I had.
They say that you don’t really know how much you love someone until they are gone. Well, now that he’s gone, I can say that I love Derek Leon very much.
And so to each of you, for whom I have so much love and respect, I wish nothing but joy everlasting. Congratulations to you both.