Arranging the wedding was almost like holding a second full time job. We actually paid for about a third of it while the rest was picked up by my Mom, who held to the old-fashioned view that the bride’s family pays the lion’s share. Bruce and I took care of all the arrangements, because Mom was already slipping downhill with the onset of Parkinson’s disease.
We chose a local pool club and catering hall for our wedding, the Palm Shores Club in Sheepshead Bay. It’s out of business now, but at the time it had two party rooms. We chose the smaller one and decided to limit our guest list to approximately sixty people. We also chose the Palm Shores Club because they served kosher food, but that wasn’t good enough for my brother’s ultra-strict father-in-law, who refused to eat a single bite because the club was open on Saturdays.
Limiting the guest list meant cutting out first cousins. We invited only immediate family, friends, a select few work colleagues, and the aunts and uncles. One first cousin was invited because his mother was frail and needed assistance in getting around.
This set off a huge brouhaha with Bruce’s sister. In order to start the wedding after Shabbos was over, we were forced into having the smorgasbord right before the dinner. This wasn’t ideal but it was the only way to go. It also meant that it would turn into a late night wedding, beginning at 8:30 PM and with the reception ending around 1:30 in the morning.
Bruce’s sister had twin daughters who were just over three years old. They were adorable little girls but they were far from well behaved. In fact, they were rambunctious little imps. The image of having them at a late night wedding was not a pretty one. I pictured food fights, screaming tantrums at tender moments, the two of them tearing around the hall being ineffectually chased by Bruce’s sister and brother in law, and then enthusiastically hugging Aunt Celeste and wrecking the white gown with their grubby little hands. So we drew the line: No children under 21 years of age, and this meant the twins, too.
Bruce’s sister took it as a personal insult, and refused to come to the wedding. She was neurotic about babysitters, considering everyone but close family members unfit to watch the twins. There was no persuading her. She threw her own adult-sized tantrum, accused Bruce of not loving his little nieces, and stayed home.
I wanted to decorate in the spirit of Halloween. The Club disappointed me because they did not have orange tablecloths. The closest they could come was peach, so I chose peach. I found some black candles and put them on the tables to sneak in at least some of a Halloween theme. We also requested that the band play the theme from “Ghostbusters,” but they forgot.
The night of the wedding, we took a taxi to the catering hall. A limousine was expensive and we were afraid it might get egged, being it was Halloween. When I tried to change into my gown I discovered that I’d lost a bit of weight since the final fitting a few weeks earlier, and now the gown dragged a bit on the floor when I walked. “What am I going to do?” I wailed. I’m going to trip over it!”
While I was freaking out, the rabbi came in and distracted me long enough to get me to sign the ketubah (marriage contract). Then it was time to go downstairs to the ceremony. We took the elevator down one flight but I had to walk down the last set of stairs. The elevator door opened into the larger party room, where employees of a local hospital were enjoying a costume party. When they saw me, they must have thought I was in costume, because quite a few people laughed and applauded. I shouted out, “Happy Halloween!”
I was nervous walking down the aisle, but made it without tripping over the slightly long gown. My mother and brother walked with me, as my father was deceased. I barely remember the ceremony but I remember the rabbi saying that getting married brings peace to one’s life, even though that seems like a contradiction in terms what with trying to coexist with another person and offspring making a cacophony during their formative years. Bruce stomped on the glass, kissed me, and we were wed.
Next came the smorgasbord, followed by the reception. I’d warned all our friends that I didn’t want anyone clinking on their wine glasses to force us to kiss. A few people did anyhow and we obliged, but fortunately it didn’t go on constantly as in some weddings. We danced our first dance to Kenny Rogers’ “Lady.” In honor of Mom’s Greek ancestry, the band played the “Miserlu.” There was also a special song honoring parents when they married off their last remaining children. Since Bruce and I both were the last children in our families to get married, Mom, Bruce’s Dad, and his stepmother sat in the center as everyone did a circle dance around them.
It’s customary at a Jewish wedding for some of the guests to pick up the bride and groom seated in their chairs and dance around with them. First they picked me up. As they hoisted me up, terrified and clinging to the chair with both hands, my brother quipped, “Boy, Celeste, what have you been eating?” I was so relieved when they finally put me down. Bruce wasn’t as lucky. His friends Jeff and Norman got a little rowdy when they picked him up, and Bruce actually slipped off the chair and fell. I was horrified, seeing him lying on his side on the dance floor, thinking this was our wedding and he might be injured. Fortunately he was all right but a bit shook up. Jeff and Norman also got into a wild dance, holding each other’s hands and whirling around so fast that other dancers had to scoot out of their way. I wondered whether they were expressing some hidden envy that Bruce was the first of their crowd to get married.
Inside our hall we could almost forget it was Halloween, but when I went out to use the ladies’ room I was accosted by a man dressed as the Cowardly Lion, who asked me if I was a real bride. Bruce reported later that when he was pacing back and forth nervously before the wedding, some other costumed characters spotted him and speculated on whether he was a real bridegroom. They concluded he was, based on his obvious tension level. He even tied his bow tie so tightly that it left a red butterfly-shaped mark on his neck. It was a wonder he was able to breathe!
At my family’s table, my aunts and uncles were taking gentlemen’s bets on whether Bruce was wearing a toupee. (He wasn’t). My Aunt Hilda invited Cousin Jeffrey to crash the wedding uninvited. Ever since Jeffrey was a little boy, Hilda dragged him to parties and adult gatherings where children weren’t welcome, and insisted that he be served a meal. I don’t think he got a place setting but probably Hilda fed him off of her plate. Because of her spoiling, Jeffrey at forty-something was an over-aged hippie who’d never taken adult responsibility or held down a job for more than a short time. I resented his presence at my wedding but there wasn’t much we could do about it without it escalating into an ugly fight. So we looked the other way and let him party.
The reception broke up early. We had the room until 1:30 or 2 AM but everyone left by around 1 AM. Bruce and I changed back into our jeans, packed up the gown and tuxedo, and headed back home, again taking a taxi to avoid Halloween celebrants armed with eggs, toilet paper and shaving cream. Our wedding was a simple affair that cost less than $10,000 but it was an evening to never forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment