For the grandfather stepping up to the microphone
I've been alive a long time, and I can tell you the years don't pass evenly. Some decades slide by without leaving a mark. And then there are the summers Ruby spent at our place — catching fireflies, burning pancakes, asking me nine hundred questions an hour — and those weeks are carved into me like initials in a tree. Her grandmother used to say Ruby got her stubbornness from me, which I denied, stubbornly. What I know is this: I have watched three generations of this family fall in love, and I have never seen anyone as sure as this girl is about Owen. At my age, you can spot the real thing across a room. Ruby, honey, this is the real thing. Hold on with both hands.
Why it works: A grandfather's long view is the one thing no other speaker has — the speech uses it as authority: he has seen enough love to certify this one.
Customize it: Replace the summer ritual with what your granddaughter actually did at your house, and keep one trait she inherited from you or your spouse.
