"My daughter is getting married. I get a lump in my throat just thinking about it. She is a beautiful, funny, smart and loving child - a grown woman now, of course, but always a child to me. It has been a joy to watch her blossom and grow. I have been astonished to see our families' (my wife's and my own) genes bubble up in her face, in her talents and her foibles. And it has been equally fascinating to see her own delightful uniqueness and strength unfold over the years.

Her fiance is a lucky man. I think he knows it. He's smart that way. And I sense that he will be a good, strong partner for her.

A child's marriage is a two-edged sword. I am sad that the time has come to turn this corner in our lives. I have loved this child so much, for so long.  And I sort of dread having to hold myself together during the festivities.

But at the same time I am so proud of her, and so filled with joy that she has found a fine partner with whom to share her life. As a husband of almost 38 years, I know well what a tonic and a blessing that is. And I am comforted that she will have that love and friendship to rely on as the years roll by, and long after her father and mother exit stage left.

So why do we cry at weddings? I know I'm not "losing" my daughter. I genuinely like and respect her fiance, and welcome him into the family. She's not marrying him and moving to Berzerkistan. They'll live in Fells Point! And if we're lucky, the family will grow.

So why the tears? I'm not sure I really know the answer. It's something about the transition, about turning points, about the inexorable march of time. It's at once the successful conclusion of a very happy childhood, a testament to good parenting, I hope. And it's the beginning, for her mother and me, of a new chapter in our lives. Somehow, we're onlookers now, consultants and cheerleaders, maybe, but no longer the CEOs in her life.  There's satisfaction, relief, gratitude, nostalgia, and an acute awareness of the passing of time. It's all intermingled, a powerful dram that grabs at the heart and throat, and wets the eyes.

What a happy day. Where's the Kleenex?"