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My Grandfather was the best story teller I have ever met. This is one of my favorites. There wasn't much to do most weekends. Once in a while we would check the newspaper to see where the wedding receptions in town would be held. If we saw a Lithuanian wedding, we knew we were going to have a good time. Of course, we didn't know any Lithuanians -- we just knew they had the best parties. So, the obvious problem; how do we get ourselves invited? No problem. We always had an angle. The first thing we had to do was purchase a gift. What good wedding guest would go to a reception without a gift? We would pool our money and go downtown to the department store. For a dime we could get some sheets, which was always a good gift. If we sweet talked the clerk, we knew at best one of us might have a date for the wedding, but more than likely we could get the gift wrapped for free. We would sign the gift card, "From, The Guys." So far, we have ten cents into our night out. Next step, we have to get into the party without getting thrown out first. As soon as we step into the hall, we squint, look around, and ask the first person we find, "Where is the bride's father?" "Right over there," would be the response. The gang of us would march right over to him, hand the gift to him, introduce ourselves, and tell him, "If he doesn't take good care of your daughter, you just let us know." He'd slap our backs, shake our hands, and invite us to the bar. Well, we were in for the evening now. No one, after seeing the bride's father laughing and carrying on with us, would dare question whether we were supposed to be there. An evening out for a dime. You just can't beat that.
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