LIGHTLY BUTTERED
by Scott William Petersen

A Presentation to the Chicago Literary Club
March 3, 2003

Wilbur Nesbit (1871-1927) was a feature writer for the Chicago Tribune and the Chicago Evening Post. In 1909, Mr. Nesbit embarked on a letter-writing campaign asking friends, acquaintances and even prominent strangers for examples of "toasts." Several years ago, Scott Petersen acquired the entire collection of responses to Mr. Nesbit's solicitations. In this paper, Scott shares some of the toasts received by Mr. Nesbit along with a history of the custom of toasting, the use of the word "toast" and a twelve step guide for the proper delivery of a toast.

The opening lines of the Chicago Literary Club's written history by Bill Barnhart are the words "I propose a toast. . . " On October 8, 1974, at the Club's Centennial Dinner, the late Arthur Baer said "I propose a toast to the second hundred years of the Chicago Literary Club." Well, tonight, I would like to propose a toast -- to Wilbur Nesbit. To Wilbur -- the inspiration for my paper this evening!

Wilbur Nesbit was an American author and journalist who lived from 1871 to 1927. He was a feature writer for the Baltimore American and later the Chicago Tribune. In 1899, Wilbur Nesbit began writing for the Chicago Evening Post where he stayed until 1912. During his career, Nesbit authored numerous books on friendship including A Friend or Two, Friend O'Mine, When a Fella Needs a Friend and Your Best Friend. He also authored the Trail to Bayland, Gentleman Ragman and Land of Makebelieve and Other Christmas Poems. Mr. Nesbit lived and died in Evanston.

In early 1909, Wilbur Nesbit embarked upon a letter-writing campaign asking friends, acquaintances and even prominent strangers for examples of "toasts." He wanted these examples for a book he said he was compiling on the subject. Wilbur Nesbit received many responses, to be sure. Unfortunately, however, his book on toasts was never published and all of the letters and all of the toasts he received were packed away in a cardboard file where they remained for nearly a century.

A few years ago, I acquired Wilbur's original collection of handwritten and typed responses for twenty dollars from an antique shop in Southern Illinois. This batch of letters and toasts made for fascinating reading. While I do not have a copy of Wilbur's original solicitation letter, I do have an example of a "follow up" letter that he sent to one foot-dragger. This particular letter was penned on September 7, 1909, to Robert Davis:

Dear Bob: -

Why so reticent?

I wrote you a nice form letter a long time ago asking you for a toast for a book I am compiling. Nothing but original hot stuff gets in this book. Only the guaranteed live ones are asked to contribute. I want a corking here's-to- something-or-other from you. Please!

I'll not send you any more poems for a long time if you'll do this for me.

Yours, Wilbur

In response to his solicitations, Wilbur Nesbit received a veritable abundanza of toasts from an assortment of turn-of-the-century near greats. In keeping with the spirit of Wilbur Nesbit's books, many of the toasts were geared toward friendship. Most were pretty funny -- relative to the time. Some were ever so serious. A few were long-winded and a few were awfully long-winded. One toast came from an editor of the Frank Munsey Company in New York who wrote in the accompanying letter: "Dear Wilbur, Here's your toast . . . If this toast isn't satisfactory, write one yourself and I will stand for it. Provided, of course, the book has a limited circulation like most of your works."

I would like to share with you a sampling of the toasts that Wilbur Nesbit received 94 years ago. Chicago's 1901 Republican Mayoral candidate Elbridge Hanecy offered a toast which perhaps recalled his loss to Carter Harrison, Jr.:

This world is what we make it and
They say we're a long time dead.
But here's to the man who makes the best
Of things before him spread.

Arthur Chapman, famous cowboy poet and columnist for The Denver Republican, provided Wilbur with two toasts. The first took up nearly a page and waxed eloquently on the challenges of exploration (it was one of those which was awfully long-winded). Chapman's second toast was more to the point and titled "To Humanity Minus One": "So all-embracing is my love for thee, my fellow man, The wine-cup I would hold above and drain and drain again; One and one only halts my glass who posts the sign 'Keep off the Grass.'"

New York Star editor Roland Burke Hennessy honored the love of his life in his offering:

"As girls must ever be the toast of men, what fitter, better theme for loving pen.
In all this life than this -- let those within my voices call pay tribute to the dearest girl of all -- my girl -- my wife!"

I would like to pay that same tribute to my bride of 31 years who is with us this evening.

Hoosier author Charles Battell Loomis offered a succinct toast which reflected his visceral philosophy on friendship: "If a man can't find friends he'd better have his liver taken out and scraped."

Judd Mortimer Lewis, columnist for the Houston Daily Post and the first poet laureate of the great State of Texas toasted friendship as follows: "Friendship is a thing to conjure with; Friends make life glad, it's pathways sunny. I've never lost one, but I hope I'll NEVER need to borrow money."

John R. Rathom, the Editor of the Providence Journal and an early Commissioner of the Rhode Island Boy Scouts dedicated another toast to friendship:

"Let's toast the ladies, if you please, the mayor, the moon, the Japanese. And ev'ry flag that braves the breeze with kowtows evident.
It might be novelty to stand and drain a glass, strike up the band,
to the man who always shakes your hand -- As if he really meant it."

Victor Rosewater, a Regent at the University of Nebraska, spoke pugilistically on the quality of honest perseverance:

"Here's to the fighter who fights a good fight,
Who winning or losing fights fair.
Here's to the fighter who fights in the light;
Such fighters need never despair.
Once more to the fighter who fights a good fight,
Who fights on the square when he must,
The fighter who fights for a cause that is right
The kind of a fighter we trust."

Most of those who submitted responses to Wilbur Nesbit were men. Wilbur (I do feel I know him well enough to call him "Wibur") received responses from some prominent women as well. Elizabeth Gordon of Minneapolis offered a mildly dicey (for 1909) toast to those men who "hesitate":

"A Champagne glass, a woman's lips, O they go well together.
When sparkling wine young beauty sips -- if a man question whether,
It's wise for him to rest his gaze upon a sight which troubles,
He hesitates, he's lost, he stays. And buys a million bubbles.

Myrtle Reed, a romance novelist who wrote Lavender and Old Lace and died tragically at the age of 37 offered two touching toasts: "May our house always be too small to hold all our friends." The second -- "They say that walls have ears. May these four walls of ours hear only laughter and kindly speech."

Anna Morgan of The Anna Morgan Studios in Chicago offered a melancholy toast -- "Here's to those who live on because -- they have died." Well, here's to Anna Morgan who's words live on tonight.

Since Wilbur Nesbit never completed his book on toasts, it is this evening and in this paper that most of these toasts are seeing the light of day for the first time in nearly a century. While I have recited only a humble sampling of them, I have appended photocopies of all of the responses to my paper so that -- in the words of Anna Morgan -- they may "live on" in the archives of our Club.

Toasting. It has become a tradition and it is frequently an obligation. By now, you have perhaps gotten an inkling as to the title of tonight's presentation. "Lightly Buttered" applies not only to how you might adorn your warm English muffin but also to the manner in which you might present a "toast" on those special occasions. A proper "toast" should be "lightly buttered." Neither too much nor too little. Neither too thick or too thin.

When I was a little boy growing up in Chicago, we would often get together on Sundays with my father's family for dinner. It would be my parents, my cousins, aunts and uncles and me. And then there was my father's uncle -- Axel Larsen -- and Axel's wife, Anna. My Uncle "Al" (I did have trouble with "Axel") would usually say a blessing in Danish and then raise his glass of wine and nod solemnly around the table, pause and say "Skoal." Then everyone would say "Skoal," clink glasses and sip. For the uninitiated, the term "Skoal" is an old one which loosely means "may you drink from the 'skull' of your enemy." The Vikings -- my ancestors -- would often do just that.

In my first vague memory of "skoaling," I remember being clueless about just what I was supposed to do. I was probably around seven years old. Uncle Al said "Skoal," raised his glass, looked around the table and then he locked his unblinking eyes on me. My father poked me from the side and whispered "raise your glass." So I tentatively raised my glass of Bosco (probably with both hands). Uncle Al extended his glass to me and tapped mine. "Skoal" he said. "Say Skoal'" my father hissed. I did. "s'coal." When everyone else drank, I drank. Once this "toast" was shared, it was time to eat and I could dig into the mashed potatoes which was always my first order of business.

From those earliest memories of "toasting," we have continued this tradition at most of our family meals. "Skoal." Even when my wife and I dine alone - we will occasionally raise our glasses of wine or coffee or Gatorade, clink glasses . . . "Skoal." Once in a while, while in the bathroom, when I pour a splash of Listerine in a paper cup, if my wife is present . . . "Skoal." She just shakes her head like she is dealing with a four year old.

In our circle of friends, at dinner parties, often someone will raise a glass, smile and say something simple like "to spring," "to good friends" or "to our families." The rest will raise glasses, say "here here" -- clinking glasses is an option -- and we all sip our wine. I am sure all of you have similar experience. Among my relatives, the word "Skoal" falls off the tongue at every gathering. My father is Danish and my mother Swedish so "Skoal" works linguistically and phonetically in both languages. "Skoal." But the use of "Skoal" must be done with cultural discretion.

Among non-family acquaintances or strangers, if I raised my glass and said "Skoal" most people would probably smile, raise their glass, clink and sip then quietly roll their eyes at their neighbor, lean over and whisper "I think he's Swedish." It would be the same if I said "Prost," "Sante," "Kampai," "Slainte," "Nastrovoya" or "Salud."

There are two aspects of toasting that can be examined historically: the custom of raising a glass together and the word "toast." It is comforting to note that the enjoyment of a glass or two of wine in good company has Old Testament roots. The virtues of a raised glass is extolled most notably in the Book of Ecclesiastes with words that are often used in toasting:

"A feast is made for laughter and wine maketh merry." Chapter 10:19

"Eat thy bread with joy and drink thy wine with a merry heart." Chapter 9:7

"Wine drunk in moderation is the joy of the soul and the heart." Chapter 31:35- 36

"Forsake not an old friend for the new is not comparable to him. A new friend is as new wine; when it is old, Thou shalt drink it with pleasure." Chapter 9:10.

Psalm 104, verse 15, counsels us "Wine maketh glad the heart of man."

And Proverbs 31:6 suggests "Give . . . wine unto those with heavy hearts."

Even the New Testament provides similar wise counsel: I Timothy 5:23 says "Drink no longer water but use a little wine for thy stomach's sake."

I mean think about this. You knock back a few glasses of Chardonnay and you can rationalize -- "I drink for religious reasons."

The actual custom of raising a glass together is old and is traced to ancient Greek and Roman civilizations. Whenever wine was being poured, glasses would be raised together and words would often follow.

For the Greeks, however, the notion of raising a tankard and drinking at the same time was designed for self-preservation -- to confirm that the beverage had been poured from a common barrel and thus had not been poisoned. Actually, the intertwining of arms during a toast was a refinement of that custom. By linking arms, you could pour wine from your tankard into the tankard of your potential adversary and vice versa. This would provide M.A.D. "Mutually assured destruction" in the event the brew was poisoned. Today, the cutesy custom of linking arms is often engaged by young lovers. But who can forget the image of George C. Scott as General George Patton linking arms with the Russian Field Marshall offering a toast -- "from one s.o.b. to another" -- in the 1970 Academy Award-winning film "Patton."

One further footnote on the ledger of "toasting" is the frequent and collateral custom of clinking glasses. This practice, which also goes back to ancient times, was thought to ward off evil spirits (of the ghostly kind) because demonic creatures were thought to be repelled by bell-like sounds. Today it is considered de rigueur when toasting with your dinner partner.

Fortunately, we don't have to worry about the "problem" of poisoned potions except in the rare instance when my Swedish and Danish relatives get together. Just kidding. . . .

The use of the word "toast" has roots which go back two milliennia. The Romans observed that they could refine the flavor of their alcoholic beverages by dropping a piece of burnt bread ("toast") into their goblets of wine. They found that toasted bread would soak up impurities and actually improve the taste of the brew. Even into the 1600's, the English and early American colonists continued to drop a crouton or piece of burnt bread into beverages to lend flavor. In Shakespeare's The Merry Wives of Windsor, when Falstaff requested a jug of wine, he said "Put toast in't." Sounds delicious.

According to historian Paul Dickson, the first recognized raising of a glass for salutation and actually calling it a "toast" was in the town of Bath, England, in the year 1709. As the story goes, one of the local beauties of Bath was seen bathing in public. An admirer, struck by her beauty and pulchritude, filled a cup with her bath water, offered a verbal tribute to the lady and then drank it in her honor! Later, another gentleman similarly declared his great admiration for the lady but he was a bit leery about sipping the bath water. (Chicken . . . ) Instead, he offered to eat the toast in her honor and the term stuck.

It was scenes like this that prompted the leaders of England and France to conclude that "toasting" led to debauchery and profligate living. Thus, Charles the Great, Maximilian, Charles V and even Louis XIV all banned the practice of toasting. The custom was made illegal in colonial Massachusetts but the law was repealed after eleven years since everyone ignored it.

But, after a brief hiatus, toasting became the right and proper thing to do. Charles Panati in the Browsers Book of Beginnings reported as follows:

"A British duke wrote in 1803 that 'every glass during dinner had to be dedicated to someone' and that to refrain from toasting was considered Scottish and rude as if no one present was worth drinking to. One way to effectively insult a dinner guest was to omit toasting him or her; it was 'a piece of direct contempt.'"

The British began the practice of toasting not only for friends present but even for those absent -- particularly the ladies who were often precluded (by other customs) from barroom festivities. A British gentleman would sometimes stand on a chair and anchor one foot on the table (this is a precarious venture when you've had a few pints). He would raise his glass and announce "May the pleasure of the evening bear the reflection of the morning." This is how women came to be known as "the toast of the town."

The English usually rely upon "cheers" as a quick toast. But while serving the British Royal Navy, each day at sea would have its own special toast routinely offered at dinner in the Officer's Wardroom (mess). Tradition dictated that the youngest officer present would offer the toast.

Sunday - Absent Friends

Monday - Our Ships at Sea

Tuesday - Our Men

Wednesday - Ourselves

Thursday - Bloody War and a Sickly Season (this meant more rapid promotion)

Friday - A Willing Foe and Plenty of Sea Room

Saturday - Sweethearts and Wives (to which was often added in sotto voce May they never meet.")

Today, only the Saturday toast is used in the Royal Navy. The British also formalized the use of toasts in diplomatic circles.

Now as you might imagine, affairs of state can be nightmares of protocol: what to wear, what to serve, seating arrangements, what to say and -- the inevitable who and how to toast. It has became customary to offer toasts and eloquence at affairs of state. The State dinner has provided forum for political messages and effervescent one-upsmanship.

When Benjamin Franklin was the American emissary to France, the British Ambassador led off with a toast to his king: "To George the Third, who, like the sun in its meridian, spreads lustre throughout and enlightens the world." Not to be outdone, the French minister declared "To the illustrious Louis the Sixteenth who, like the moon, sheds his benevolent rays on and influences the globe." Finally, Franklin rose and lifted his glass and offered "To George Washington, commander of the American armies, who, like Joshua of old, commanded the sun and moon to stand still and both obeyed."

In order to maintain proper sobriety at state dinners (where toasting was frequent), Richard Nixon noted in his biography that while he would hoist his glass many times over the course of an evening, he would never sip. The wine or Champagne would only touch the top of his upper lip and then splash back into the glass.

For most of us, the biggest challenge is not the grand state dinner or celebrity gala. Our biggest hurdle will be crafting a few well-chosen words at a wedding, an anniversary or other special occasion. Toasting is easy when you are in homogenous ethnic company. The Swedes and the Danes say "Scowl." The Germans "Prost" or "Protchen" (though in the spirit of Teutonic back-up plans a toast among Germans can come out "Prosit" or even "Gesundheit"). The French say "Sante" although in informal company, toasters often mutter the indelicate "merde" which is the colloquial if not dictionary -- equivalent of "here's mud in your eye." The Japanese say "Kampai" (which means "dry cup"). The Israelis "l'Chaim" ("to life"). In Spanish, it's "Salud" ("health"). For the Irish and Scottish, it is "Slainte" (which means "cheers"). In Italian, it's "Salute." Chinese "Kan bei." And in Esperanto, use "Je zia sano." And then there are toasts in:

Albanian - Gazuat
Hawaiian - Okole Maluna
Belgian - Op vwgezonheid
Pakistani - Sanda Bashi
Estonian - Tervist
Greek - Eis Igian (throwing your glass into the fireplace for Greeks is an optional custom).
Zulu Ooogy wawa

If you are having a group of Chinese or -- heaven help you -- Swedes over for dinner, and you are called on to give a toast, more than likely "Kan bei" or "Skoal" will suffice. Just remember to use "Skoal" with the Swedes and "Kan bei" with the Chinese. The use of "Kan bei" with a group of Swedes could put you in mortal danger. You remember where that term "Skoal" came from. . .

If, however, you are called upon to make a toast at an Irish wedding or a Danish wedding or any wedding, yelling "Slainte" or "Skoal" may have attendees scrambling to their feet and raising their glasses but such a toast would be hopelessly insufficient. For most weddings (be they Swedish, Russian or Timbuktuian), the gift of a few well-chosen words will be blessing . . . and a virtual requirement. This is particularly true if you are the Best Man or the Father of the Bride.

For that very special occasion, your toast will have to convey a very special message and it will have to be more than just "Cheers" or "Happy Days." In years past, a toast would often rhyme. Sir Walter Scott's famous wedding toast was eloquent, it was short and it was touching:

"To every lovely lady bright, I wish a gallant faithful knight.
To every faithful lover true, I wish a trusting lady too."

Now, if I delivered words like this at a wedding, people would fulfill the obligatory ritual, to raise their glasses and sip. But very likely while smiling brightly, they would ventriloquist to their neighbor -- "who is that guy?" More appropriate would be the simple refrain of Mark Twain "to get the full value of joy; you must have someone to divide it with." And then you raise your glass and say "To Horace and Mildred."

Absolute silence would have been preferable to the infamous toast in the 1994 movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral" in which the best man stood up and congratulated his friend Charles (the groom played by Hugh Grant) on lassoing his bride since "all of his other girlfriends had been such complete dogs." He then went on to point out some of the old girlfriends in attendance.

Giving a proper and memorable toast can be a daunting experience. It is usually best not to "wing it." There are unwritten rules in the game of giving a toast. A protocol. If you are called upon to deliver a toast, it will be important for you to be acquainted with twelve commandments that I have compiled from impeccable sources. Everything you ever wanted to know about giving a toast:

1. Do not raise your glass or drink if you are the one being toasted. It's like applauding for yourself. It's best to be demure and when the toast and huzzahs have been completed, lift your glass humbly, nod and say "thank you" or "you are my good friends and my dear family and I love you and I thank you";

2. If you are seated, stand to offer your toast. Letitia Baldrige, the author of Letitia Baldrige's New Complete Guide to Executive Manners, says if you are addressing a group larger than nine, stand up when giving a toast;

3. Always let the host offer the first toast. (This is true at dinner parties unless you are charged with the responsibility of paying homage to the host);

4. Do a drink check. Look around and make sure people have a glass to raise. Champagne is fine but wine, water or even an empty glass can (and should) be raised. A toast is not a toast if people only have a toothpick, a soggy pig-in-a-blanket or salad fork to raise;

5. Command attention. Rise from your chair, stand up straight, tap your glass (although not too vigorously) and announce your intention. Have you ever noticed that when you tap your glass, most lemmings will pick up a table weapon and begin tapping their glasses. Once you are standing, you are ready to begin;

6. Be sober. I advise against downing a few gin martinis during the cocktail hour and a few cabernets at dinner prior to your big moment. Nothing would be more embarrassing than to slur your words or worse to lurch off balance or to lean as your raised glass counterbalances your precarious stability;

7. Get your facts right. Nothing could be worse than to offer a gracious toast "to Elmer and Sarah" and sit down only to remember that the couple's names are "Frank and Margaret." In 1975, while on a visit to Cairo, President Gerald Ford raised his glass to Anwar Sadat and said "To the great people and government of Israel uhhm Egypt." President Ronald Reagan offered a toast to "the people of Bolivia" -- while he was on a visit to Brazil. A Washington politician introduced his guest as "The Virgin of Governor's Island" much to the delight of everyone present. Thus, know what your are going to say. The old Boy Scout motto "Be Prepared" comes to mind;

8. Language. If you are offering a toast in a language that is not your own, make sure that what you say is what you really want to say. In "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," Ian Miller (the boyfriend played by John Corbett) is egged on to propose a toast which sizzles the ears of his bride's family. Mikhail Gorbachev in offering an informal raised glass at a Georgetown dinner party tried for "bottoms up." It came out "Up your bottoms";

9. Use your words. In a nutshell, be brief, be witty and be charming. And, just be yourself. Brevity is a virtue. Unless you are the father of the bride and you are paying for the dinner, you are commanded to be brief. Mark Twain said that no toast except one to his honor should last more than sixty seconds. This is probably good advice. The more you meander, the deeper in trouble you can get. In five years, no one will recall your brevity but they will more than likely recall uncontrolled blubbering or rambling comments ("hey, isn't he that guy that . . . "). A short story is always fine but do not feel you have to unload a mental warehouse of anecdotes and indelicado flagrantes. At the conclusion of your toast, raise your glass crisply and sit down;

10. Subjects to avoid. According to Letitia Baldridge, there are three subjects that should be avoided when offering a toast: sex, money and bathroom behavior. If you must delve into this nether world, stick to a double entendre as did her father in his favorite toast "May you live as long as you want to and may you want to as long as you live." And then there is my father's favorite toast which I think would also qualify: "Here's to Adam the father of us all; who was Johnny on the spot when the leaves began to fall";

11. The object of the toast. Always make sure the person is present when you stand up and announce a toast in their honor. Letitia Baldridge, blinded by a spotlight, offered a clever and romantic toast to Jacqueline and Aristotle Onassis on the occasion of their fifth wedding anniversary. When Ms. Baldridge asked everyone to join her, she heard people calling out from the darkened room "Tish, they're not here"; and

12. Royalty. Let me offer a few words of counsel for the next time you toast a member of the royal family. Queen Elizabeth has her own strict protocol (as do most monarchs) for offering a toast. Unless you are a head of state, your mandate is to rise and say "The Queen" or, if you are in Canada, "The Queen of Canada" and sit down. Do not go down the road "Isn't that Elizabeth something else? Look at that great dress must've cost $200.00."

These twelve rules should get you by in offering a toast. Apart from the obvious, probably the most important rule of giving a toast is to be brief. Brevity is and can be memorable. There are an abundance of immortal one line toasts from the movies, song and literature which include:

"Here's lookin' at you, kid" (Bogart to Bergman in Casablanca)

"Another one bites the dust" - from the hit song by Queen (sometimes used at weddings)

"Here's mud in yer eye" (John Wayne in several Westerns). As an aside, John Wayne did not originate this term. It was used early on to express the desire of farmers that the earth they plowed would be soft.

"Over the teeth, behind the gums, look out stomach, here she comes" (Ed Norton to Ralph Kramden in "The Honeymooners'" based on an old Spike Jones song)

"Here's hoping that you live forever and mine is the last voice you hear." (Willard Scott based upon an old Irish toast)

"Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution." (Groucho Marx)

"May you live all the years of your life." (Jonathan Swift)

"Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter. Sermons and soda water the day after." (Lord Byron)

"I drink to your charm, your beauty and your brains - which gives you a rough idea how hard up I am for a drink." (Groucho Marx)

"May the people who dance on your grave get cramps in their legs." (A toast from the book The Joys of Yiddish)

"This Bud's for you." (Anheuser-Busch)

"It's Millard Fillmore's birthday!" (Ed McMahon on "The Tonight Show" with Johnny Carson)

"To long lives and short wars." (Colonel Sherman Potter in "M.A.S.H.")

"I have a dozen healths to drink to these fair ladies." (Shakespeare in Henry VIII)

"A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug of wine, a loaf of bread and thou." (Omar Khayam)

"Drink to me only with thine eyes and I will pledge with mine; or leave a kiss within the cup and I'll not look for wine." (Ben Jonson)

Ty Cobb, in a valedictory to St. Louis Cardinal great Stan Musial, raised his glass to "Stan the Man" and said "You can still run and you can still hit. Drink a little wine before dinner and you'll play for years."

Humphrey Bogart, in the final commentary he uttered as he breathed his last, he saluted life with the words "I should never have switched from scotch to martini's."

And of course master of one-liners Henny Youngman spoke on the evils of alcohol at a celebrity roast of Dean Martin: "When I read about the evils of drinking I give up reading."

. . . . .

While I feel confident that members of this distinguished and august group could write scores of wonderful, eloquent and humorous toasts, there are inevitably times when you just run out of words. If you are not prepared to give that special toast for that special occasion, don't worry. Just log on to any one of a number of different web sites (theperfecttoast.com or instantweddingtoasts.com) and you can buy one! These links will actually sell you the perfect toast . . . for a reasonable price. And there are books such as Great Toasts by Andrew Frothingham; Irish Toasts by Karen Bailey; and A Gentleman's Guide to Toasting from the Jack Daniels Distilling Company.

Let me conclude my presentation with the time-honored toast offered by Tiny Tim in the concluding words of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol. "Here's to us all. God bless us everyone."

Thank you.

© 2003 by Scott W. Petersen
All rights reserved