Uncle of the Groom Speech: A Wedding Speech for Your Nephew

Good evening, everyone. I’m Vince, Anthony’s uncle and his godfather. I’m also his mom’s older brother, which means I’ve been around to see most of Anthony’s best—and a few of his more questionable—haircuts. I’ll leave the baby stories to his dad, Mark, since I’m sure he’s already covered every embarrassing detail. My job tonight is just to say a few words about Anthony, Erin, and what it means to watch someone you love find their person.

From the start, Anthony has always been kind, a little on the quiet side until he gets to know you, and loyal to a fault. I’ve seen that up close over the years, especially on our “uncle days.” Every birthday since he turned six, it’s just been the two of us—his pick, my treat. At twelve, it was a Pirates game, and when he caught a foul ball, he gave it straight to a little girl behind us who’d missed it and was in tears. That’s just who he is.

At sixteen, he wanted to look at colleges. We spent hours in the car, talking about everything—some things he wasn’t ready to ask his parents yet. I got to see the thoughtful, curious side of Anthony, the one who wants to do things right, not just fast. And last spring, for my sixtieth, he showed up with two tickets and said, “This one’s on me, Uncle Vince. It’s your uncle day now.” That moment meant a lot to me.

The first year Anthony asked if Erin could come along on uncle day, I knew something was different. He’d never brought anyone before. We went to a Pirates game—sensing a theme here—and Erin kept score in pencil, all nine innings. On the drive home, I told my wife Donna, “He’s going to marry that girl.” She was part of the family from day one, at least in my mind.

As a couple, Erin and Anthony do the quiet, steady work of caring. They’ve fostered six shelter dogs in two years and kept the last one—a three-legged beagle named Clemente. If that doesn’t tell you what kind of people they are, I don’t know what will.

I want to thank my sister Theresa and Mark for welcoming us all tonight, and Erin’s parents, Jim and Ellen, for making the trip from Cleveland. It’s good to see both families here, starting this new chapter together.

I’d also like to mention someone who I know is with us in spirit—my mother, Anthony’s Nonna Angela. She met Erin once, at Easter, and spent the whole afternoon teaching her to make pizzelles. She would have loved to see today.

Donna and I have been married thirty-one years. My advice to you both is simple: keep your own version of uncle day. One day a year, just for the two of you. One of you picks, no phones, no plans except to be there together.

(Raise your glass) To Anthony and Erin—may you always find time to show up for each other, in big ways and small. Salute!

Good evening, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Gavin—Oom Gav if you ask Ruan. I married his dad’s sister, Elsa, back when Ruan was just six. He’s been calling me that ever since. At seven, I took him to his first Test match at Newlands. At tea he asked, “Is it nearly finished?” I had to break the news that we still had four more days. He looked both horrified and impressed—like only a true cricket fan would.

Ruan was always the kid who could turn any mishap into a story. I still remember taking him to Cape Point when he was ten. I told him I was a baboon expert. Ten minutes later, a baboon proved me wrong by climbing through the car window and making off with our whole padkos bag—my sandwiches, my sunglasses, the works. Ruan just laughed so hard he got hiccups. He told his class on Monday it was the best day of his life. That’s Ruan: he’ll find the funny side of anything, even if it means watching his so-called expert uncle get mugged by a baboon.

Then along came Naledi. I met her at Ruan’s thirtieth, a braai at our house. She very kindly rescued my attempt at fire-making, took the tongs, and produced the best chops I’ve ever eaten at my own braai. I told Ruan that night, “Marry her, or I’m giving her my tongs.”

And here we are. Naledi, you are the only person I know who can get Ruan anywhere on time. That is a superpower. Thabo and Lerato, thank you for today and for raising someone who could wrangle both Ruan and my braai.

So, some advice: Naledi, you’re smarter—pick the restaurants. Ruan, I want my cooler box back before your first anniversary. But most of all, look after each other and keep laughing.

(Raise your glass) To Ruan and Naledi—may your life together be filled with laughter, good stories, and maybe a few less baboons. Cheers!