I’m not sure what our friend in the Philly area is calling himself in blogtopia these days, but this is more or less a narrowcast blog with him in mind.  After this Saturday, he and I will be members of an exclusive club consisting of Northeastern alumni godfathers.  I’m sure there are many of us out there, but I still prefer to think of this as an exclusive club.  Humor me.  I became a godfather on my recent trip to the homeland of Lithuania and I have to say that the experience was intense, humbling, honorable, and touching.  I might not get to see my godson as often as you will get to see your godson in the state next door, but the newfound honor still feels just as powerful. 

In the sartorial department, I went all out for this event.  I don’t recall exactly what Michael Corleone wore when he became a godfather (not “The” Godfather, which actually happened concurrently at the end of the first film), but I decided to get decked out in a white linen suit, complete with a white Panama hat.  I’m hoping to post a photo or two here soon, but in the interim let me tell you that everyone said I at least looked the part of a godfather.  And when you look good, you feel good, so I was halfway there before the ceremony even began.

Honestly, I probably didn’t give ample thought to becoming a godfather.  I gladly accepted the offer and set about preparing for the baptism.  It wasn’t until I was actually there and getting translated little snippets from Swedish Girl that I understood that I was now involved in a lifelong undertaking.  Not being able to understand what was being said in the various Lithuanian ceremonies allowed me to daydream about the situation.  By the way, my daydreams were interrupted by a couple of mandatory vodka shots and various other centuries-old traditions.  Not how I usually spend a Sunday morning, but when in Rome…

My own godfather, God rest his soul, wasn’t a hands-on type of godfather, but even still, I knew he’d lay his life on the line if need be.  He didn’t live long enough for me to reach the age that I could bum a beer off him and have some quasi-adult conversations; this is one of the chief regrets in my life.  So, I’m looking forward to sharing a similar bond with my godson.  This might be in a convoluted mix of Lithuanenglish, but I’m sure it’ll all work out.

So, to my old friend who is about to join this club, I welcome you aboard.  Perhaps we’ll end up comparing notes once in a while.  Either way, it’s a lifelong duty that I’m sure you’re embracing just as much as I am.

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