CHOUDRANT — The call came Friday. A High-Ranking Official from Origin Bank, where DW has $40 in a closely guarded bidness account, asked if I could play in the annual Origin Bank, Bulls and Bears, How-Are-CDs-Performing-These-Days? Five-Man/Woman Golf Scramble.

Absolutely I can!

If my wife says I can.

So the High-Ranking Official asked the Origin VP a couple of offices down and she granted me clemency, even though it’s Cinco de Wedding Week.

Glory! Joy!

My boss at my actual job also said to fire away, which I did. I wish I could have fired away better.

Our goal was to not finish last, and although we did not hang around to find out, I fear we may not have met our goal. We shot a 2-under 70. No, that is not a great score in a FIVE MAN/WOMAN SCRAMBLE. But we had not hit a ball in a few months. To our credit, we grinded out EVERY shot, every par.

I realize we should have done better. We were 3-under on the front, 1-over on the back. Fatigue might have played a role. Well, that and my lack of talent.

This is sad: We used MY approach shot on both the par-4 18th (the hole we began on in the 17-teams scramble) and on the par-4 first — and neither was on the green.

I mishit a putt — I did this all day; MAJOR jits — from just off the green on the par-3 12th and it got within two feet of the hole! No where NEAR where I was trying to putt it. God takes care of fools and bad golf guys.

As I say, we battled for everything we got. Thanks to Dan and his son Adam (our banker!) and Adam’s friend Thomas for letting us play with them. Also, JJ Designated Saved us more than a few times, and DW Nation applauded.

Thank you Origin, for the fajitas and the sausage and the pulled pork foldover and the fun time with friends. Thank you God for the perfect weather. Thank you Squire Creek. We will try harder next time.

And thank you golf. You are hard, but we sure do love you.

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(From April 15, 2018, The Times, and Monroe News-Star)

Nuptials are coming up hard and fast, unwavering, in the rearview mirror.

Cinco de Wedding is the date. Mercy. Is that less than three Saturdays away?

I am a bit player in the affair, the husband of the woman who birthed the bride. Innocent bystander. Happy by association for this joyous event.

If you are not invited, good; you have just saved me a lot of money. Thank you. And if you are a loan officer, might I have a word?

Actually, I have only a semi-idea of who is invited. There are only so many spots in the parking lot at the cozy reception ‘venue’—aren’t there only so many spots at any venue, including the Los Angeles Coliseum?—so the number had to be limited. But here is the real reason I don’t know:

When this “announcement” was made and proposals were accepted, my bride and our the bride-to-be sat on one couch, me on the other, and they said, very lovingly and seriously, that they wanted me to “be involved” in the planning of the wedding and in the Wedding Proper.

I looked at them with understanding — (I’ve been to counseling) —not letting on that they had just asked the flunkie to run the school. Which, essentially, they had.

I thought about their offer for a moment or two — I will never forget it as it was sweet, and they were so sincere, and so emotional, and therefore so uncharacteristically dumb — and then I suggested that if they would look back and remember my record in weddings, they would probably reconsider and know it’s best I NOT help. I told them that if they thought about it really hard, or even thought about it at all, they might even want me to move out of state until June, or at least to another parish. I would of course understand.

Laughter all around — maybe a little too much? — and we agreed then that the best way for me to help would be to be quiet and encouraging and keep up with The Money.

It’s worked! Somehow, our baby girl’s wedding is just about paid for. It helps when you get married on Cinco de Mayo and not on Cinco de Ribeye. At the reception, I am told we are having tacos and a sort of cheese mold thing and red beans and rice. Cupcakes, I think. And, because it’s Wedding Reception Law, a chocolate fountain.

Barry Manilow, who wrote the songs that make the whole world sing, is entertaining at the reception. Did I hear that right?

I’m not sure, because I’m in a step-dad coma.

No? He’s not? Good!

And still, what’s a step-dad being quiet and encouraging to do?

Here’s what: Remain invisible and prepare for a Delegation Situation, a strategic maneuver necessary to keep my do-everything-herself spousal unit from overshooting the runway or self-combusting on The Big Day, thereby charring her new dress and missing both the ceremony and, perish the thought, the chocolate fountain.

So far all I’ve done is carry a few boxes, pick up mail, write some checks. Still, I need to prepare in my own secret and wise-through-experience way. Because if anything goes wrong, whose fault is it going to be? Hello!

So I have called in a trio of heavy hitters, old friends who are coming to the wedding if they possibly can to serve as the guns of Navarone, fictional German problem-solvers in an old World War II movie based on the very real Allied campaign in the German-held Aegean Sea. Formidable were those guns of Navarone: basically I am bringing in a modern-day version of David Niven, Anthony Quinn, and Gregory Peck.

Matth will come in from Carolinas on either a motorcycle or in one of two old trucks. I don’t even ask anymore.

Jaybo aims to fly in from Maine, where he is a pilot and has to fly anyway so he might as well be working.

And Rammer or Ramz, depending on how much time you have to say it, will drive in from St. Louis.

We are guys and things could change, but that’s the plan, and it’s a good plan. The only problem is, we four have screwed things up together before. Still, you can’t have enough hands on deck when the heat is on, as it will be in a couple of weeks.

Next week I’ll tell you their assigned duties, which I’m sure will expand between now and then. Hopefully, some future daddy-of-the-bride will benefit. And surely he can benefit from this, as I’ve told my gang here: No matter what happens, when the smoke clears and the sun goes down, there will be a married bride and groom, and that’s the only thing, on this day, that really matters.

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