Happy Belated 2nd Blogoversary!

Last year I completely forgot to go back and write a reflective 1st Blogoversary post. This year, I forgot when my Blogoversary was, primarily because I remember starting the blog around Yom Kippur, not realizing that since this year was a leap year that Yom Kippur fell out much later in the secular calendar than it did the year I began this blogging adventure. I continued to fall behind as grad school took up most of my free time, along with other more timely post ideas popped into my head.

Truthfully, I've also been a bit stuck in making an attempt to write something profound and meaningful. It's pretty hard to achieve that on demand, and I've always found inspiration to strike at unexpected moments that cannot be summoned or controlled.

Nevertheless, I think I owe it to myself, more so than the readers, to at least make an attempt to take a step back and ruminate a bit about where I came from, where I am now, and where I'm going with this blog.

I, like many other single bloggers out there, started the blog during a time of introspection following a series of unproductive shidduchim. My goal wasn't to create a dating/shidduchim themed blog per se, and initially was inspired to share my own hashkafic musings about events in the world and things I learned and experienced at YU. I drew my primary inspiration from Chana's Curious Jew for the hashkafic concept, and Bad For Shidduchim (to a degree) for what soon became the dating heavy theme of many posts. I greatly enjoyed both of their blogs, but felt there was an unfulfilled niche in these arenas from the male perspective - particularly when it came to dating. I won't make any sort of egotistical statement claiming I had any measure of success compared to either of these two bloggers, especially Bad4 in the realm of shidduchim, but I like to think I have made some positive impact in both areas.

The blogging started out somewhat sporadic and unfocused, sometimes correlating to my dating experiences, though altered and timed in such a way that they were not akin to the bloggers who run home to post about every (un)successful date they take part in. I didn't want this blog to become a sort of journal of my daily/weekly trials and tribulations, but rather a reflection on moments and experiences that made an impact on me and my thoughts, which I hoped to translate into a readable presentation for others to benefit from. I also managed to write a few posts about hashkafic matters, but soon that gave way to a greater focus on shidduchim...

I always wanted (and still want) to generate discussion, rather than simply throwing up posts and ideas for the sake of spitting out everything that comes into my head. Some posts certainly succeeded in doing that, such as the post that began the rise of readership in which I wrote about the intelligence of a shidduch prospect.

I wrote a lot about different aspects of dating.

I also found this blog to be a fun form of expression for me to share my somewhat zany sense of humor, often intellectual but sometimes just for fun, in the form of short stories. The vast majority of my stories centered around dating, often with the intention of making a critical point about some aspect of the overall dating/shidduch process I feel is not quite right or needs correction. I am a sci-fi fan, and a theme found within science fiction is often taking things to extremes, beyond where they stand now, to demonstrate where we might be heading if we don't examine our deeds/society. For example: focusing too much on personal traits in an excessive fashion or demanding that a potential date match our list of requirements in every possible way to even qualify for consideration. I also explored a re-imagined Exodus story, mixing modern technology with the Biblical story in a dark/humorous narrative told from the Egyptians' perspective. I hope to finish that some day (sooner, rather than later).

In year 2 of this blog, the unthinkable happened and I got engaged, and no, it didn't happen like the story portrays. I frantically tried to compose as many blog posts as I could about dating from a single person's perspective before I forgot anything. I still have a number of incomplete pieces from that time which I may go back and finish, though I admit they will be different since they will be written from a retrospective viewpoint.

Then I got married and wrote all about the in-and-outs of what happened. However, I was now left with a major dilemma: What is a "shidduch" blogger supposed to do once he finds the right one, gets engaged and stands under the chuppah with her?

Write about the Maccabeats, of course ;)

Honestly, I loved these guys when they were just the wannabe nerdy A Capella group of my undergrad university. I enjoyed the novelty of finally having our own group of singers to be proud of - just like "real" colleges. Of course, the turning point that made this blog into an unofficial fan site/source for Maccabeats info was the infamous picture I made as a joke that labelled which Maccabeats were single, engaged and married. Suddenly, I had a multiple thousands of visitors popping in, largely in part to a link on the Jerusalem Post and everywhere else on the internet. I still continue(d) to follow their career, and am very, very proud of their accomplishments on behalf of Yeshiva University and Judaism as a whole. I also poked fun at them a bit on Purim, which seems to get a few random Google hits every now and then. I personally think it's a sharper article than the Taio Cruz lawsuit article.

Then my lovely wife ASoG and I became connectors/shadchanim for YU Connects, which led to an ongoing series talking about how to properly use the YU Connects system. It's been an interesting experience writing about shidduchim from the "other side," though I have to admit ASoG's been doing far more active shadchanus work than I have in recent times because of my heavy workload with grad school. However, I do field questions from friends and step in to make a phone call or two when a particular guy isn't being cooperative for some reason.

I've also attempted to pass on lessons I've learned over the course of my shana rishona. This feature will definitely continue into the future. As much as I can hope to inform readers about what lies ahead in the final stages of dating leading to engagement, my experiences as a husband are something that I hope to always learn from and translate into lessons worth sharing.

With regard to the future of this blog, though I was once concerned about maintaining a steady rate of updates or finding material to write about, I think I've begun to figure things out. Since I am not in the active dating scene any more, I hope I can continue to share my musings on matters pertaining to Torah learning and hashkafa in addition to posts about being married and acting as a shadchan. I also have a bunch of stories that are in-progress and waiting for me to give them the time for proper thought and composition. I definitely look forward to sharing those with everyone.

I'm also going to continue to indulge my love of Jewish Music, which encompasses far more than my interest in the Maccabeats. Be sure to come back every Friday to explore new or under-publicized Jewish musical artists and their albums.

In conclusion, I want to thank all the readers out there for visiting, reading, sharing this blog with your friends, posting links on Facebook, and leaving comments(!!!) that add to the atmosphere of meaningful discussion and dialogue I've tried to create throughout this humble venture.

Life moves very fast, whether we want it to or not, and things can change - bringing both good things and challenges - before we know it. The key is to be flexible, open minded enough to think about the goings-on around you, and have respect when interacting with others. I think I've learned a lot about these things over the course of my time writing on this blog, and I hope I've had some positive influence on others, in addition to making you guys laugh and think.

May we all continue to move forward in this journey together, and may I soon have the opportunity to write a blog post about the arrival of Moshiach Tzidkeinu, Bimheira Biyameinu - Amen.

Post Wedding Report Part 7: The End - Or - The Beginning

Welcome to the 7th and final part of my Post Wedding Report. This has been a project that was in the works for a long time, but I'm glad to have finally completed it. Enjoy!

Before you read this post, don't forget to check out parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6!

Dancing was intense and very fun. I say intense for two reasons – my friends were really, really into it, and because I had eaten a little too much in the yichud room, so I was very focused on not having my delicious break-the-fast meal revisit me on the dance floor. I had listened to the advice of an older married friend who suggested we request the caterer to serve real food in the yichud room and not just cake and soda. This was great advice, but I will add to it that despite how hungry you, as the chosson or kallah might be (and generally the chosson is the more likely of the two to actually eat anything significant) don’t push yourself. Aside from the usual stomach shrinkage due to fasting, you’ve also been on pins and needles all day with excitement, anticipation, and a healthy dose of nervousness, so your stomach really can’t handle so much, and it certainly can’t handle a lot of spinning around in circles afterward. Thus, during the first set, I had to ask those dancing with me to slow down or not spin as much to prevent any messy scenarios.

The band was fantastic, and really did a great job getting everyone present into a simcha-mindset with their energetic performance.

During our engagement, I did my very best to keep to my rebbe’s advice that he imparted to ASoG and I when we first met with him after we got engaged, which was to “be cool” throughout the engagement process and let our parents do as much of the planning as possible. However, the band wasn’t something that I could just leave to my parents or future in-laws to take care of. In fact, this was pretty much the only thing I had any desire to be involved with vis-à-vis planning the wedding, and I had to make sure that the band we had was a good one.

I’m a big fan of Jewish music (as evidenced by a number of posts on this blog), and I had debated with myself for a while what style of band I wanted at our wedding: either the very standard orchestra type, with the blaring brass instruments and loud, pounding sound, or the more laid-back 4-5 member band set up with the focus on acoustic/electric guitars. Think Neshama Orchestra versus The Moshav Band. My dilemma was to go with the stereotypical wedding band sound, which, despite its tendency to burst eardrums, honestly infuses a lot of energy into the dancing, or the more b’nachas approach, which although lacking the oomph of the big-band approach, is far more leibedig. In the end, I decided to go with the non-orchestral approach, and I don’t regret it for a moment.

The dancing was a big deal for me, since it was the part of our wedding where all the different people in attendance, who represented all the different time periods of my life joined with each other in one big mixture to celebrate together. I had friends there from pre-school/middle school, high school/NCSY, my yeshiva in Israel, and Yeshiva University – aside from all the relatives and friends who came in from my hometown. It was truly wonderful to see all the diverse elements of my life come together in such a beautiful mosaic of simcha.

The shtick was amazing, and turned out to be almost as good as, if not as good as it would have been had I planned it all myself. I had dropped a few hints here and there regarding some things that I wanted to see, such as my request for one pair of friends who randomly did the Macarena in a hilarious fashion at another mutual friend’s wedding to do a repeat performance at mine. However, some guys totally surprised me, knowing exactly what in-jokes to play off of even without my suggestions. Even the bits of shtick that I did request were done better than I had imagined. There was also a lot of shtick that I had no clue was coming, but was executed very well and drew many laughs and smiles from ASoG and I.

As a result of all of this wedding related merriment, I’ve heard dozens and dozens of comments from those that were there that our wedding was one of the best they’ve ever been to. We didn’t go overboard with excessive frills that are often found at weddings nowadays, but we managed to have an amazing simcha – largely in part to all of my friends who came. Even the disparate groups, such as my hometown friends and my YU friends, all worked together very cohesively, instead of the “take turns” method I’ve seen at other weddings where the different groups share the chosson back and forth because they don’t want to have anything to do with each other. I really can’t take any credit for how wonderful everything was, because the guys really outdid themselves with the dancing, shtick, and celebrating – it seemed like everyone had their simcha-meter dial cranked up past the maximum limit. My family also really got into the shtick performances when they brought ASoG over to sit with me. Even my less-religious relatives got in on the game and seemingly had a great time.

The girls’ side, from what I heard/saw (and witnessed in the video) wasn’t quite the same as ours. ASoG tells me she enjoyed everything – with the exception of the silly umbrella breaking confetti-filled balloons thing – which I still don’t understand whatsoever.

At the end of the first set, everyone danced us over to the head table in the typical fashion (after refusing to stop dancing, as is usually seen). The photographer scuttled over and wanted to take the prerequisite hand washing pictures, even though we had already washed and begun to eat in the yichud room. We obliged, taking turns pouring water over each other’s hands and me posing with the big challah and knife – though I don’t think anyone ever ate any of it.

Of course, as I had been forewarned, we didn’t really have a chance to eat much during the break. My mother had told me before the wedding that we should go around to eat table to greet all our guests, but I insisted that we weren’t going to do that for two reasons 1) We were going to be exhausted from the fasting and dancing (which we were) and 2) If we’re the king and queen for the day and it’s everyone’s job to entertain us, then they should come to us and not vice versa – which is basically what happened. There were guests who wanted to say hello and mazal tov, others who were leaving early wanted to say goodbye and mazal tov, and others just came by to visit. Before we knew it, we were back on the dance floor for round two.

One thing I particularly enjoyed during the dancing (all three sets) was the individual partner dancing with my friends, relatives, and rabbeim. As each one emerged from the throngs to grab my hands and begin his own personal dance – and there were many different sorts – the crowd let out a cheer and turned the dancing and singing up a notch. It was so meaningful to go one-by-one and dance with each of my friends, and even more so with all of my rabbeim who were present, which ran the spectrum of my Jewish educational career, starting from my local day school when I wasn’t really religious all the way to my rebbe at YU.

After the second set they brought out the dessert buffet, and ASoG and I made a point to cut our cake, which had been largely ignored the entire evening. Of course, I’m sure everyone was waiting for us to cut it, and take our cutesy feeding each other pieces of cake pictures, but even after that very few were willing to try some. I cut up a bunch of pieces and started calling out to people to please take. There was a large group of women huddled nearby chatting, so I got their attention and told them that they need to take a piece, since the wedding was already over and there was no need to worry about fitting in their dresses anymore. I only got a few more takers from that offer…

By the time the last set started most of the attendees had left for the evening – it was getting later after all. Nevertheless, a core group of my friends refused to let the liveliness of the celebration die down, and they yanked me back onto the dance floor once again. I remember someone once explained to me how the last dance set is really the most important, because the majority of guests have already gone, and you need to make sure the chosson and kallah aren’t left twiddling their thumbs the remainder of the time the band has on their contract. These fellows were definitely some of my closest friends, and they didn’t disappoint whatsoever. As per ASoG’s family tradition, we did jump rope with a big sparkly streamer-thing, and it turns out I was pretty good (I could leap rather high). We started off a bit rough since one of the rope-swingers was a little on the short side, which made for uneven rotations, but once we got two taller guys to take the job, we were in business.

My friends kept things going strong up until the last minute, when someone came in and said that our limousine was due to arrive shortly, and we needed to wrap things up. We semi-abruptly ran over to our table to begin sheva brachos. At this point, I had forgotten my list of kibbudim somewhere in the hall, and with my second copy, which my uncle had had at the chupa also missing in action, my shomer saved the day with my third back-up copy, which I had given him for just such a scenario. It turned out a number of the guests we had wanted to say a sheva bracha at the bentsching had already left, so we improvised for a few selections.

We finished the last sheva bracha after which ASoG and I sipped the awful tasting hall-provided wine again and passed around the leftovers for all the eager singles to get their segulah wine. Our remaining friends quickly lined up for parting words and to receive brachos from us. We had to do this in a bit of a hurry because the limousine driver had already arrive and was beginning to threaten that he’d leave without us if we didn’t get downstairs soon enough.

In my previous wedding attendance experience, I’ve seen the chosson either give generic brachos to the guys that they learn a lot and find their kallah, or actually make an effort to be more personal and formulate a bracha that is direct and more meaningful. I did my best to opt for the latter, which always made a lot more sense and made me feel far more appreciative when I was the on the receiving end of those brachos.

We managed to collect almost all of the wedding shtick we had, though a few semi-important/expensive things ended up missing and were never found. ASoG and I ran to the yichud room to gather our belongings and grab our prepared food to take with us. I handed off my kitel and a few other things to my mother to take back home, and we dashed down the stairs to catch our ride.

The photographer was long gone at this point, so we don’t have any official pictures of us leaving/getting in the limo. The driver was particularly determined to leave at the appointed time, so we ended up running out without even saying goodbye to our fathers, who were left behind to deal with paying the hall manager and the band leader. A small group escorted us with our things into the limo, we said our goodbyes and headed off to our hotel.

The limousine ride had a sort of magical quality to it, since this was the first time we truly were totally alone as husband and wife. All the ceremonies and celebrations were over, and we finally had a chance to relax and take a deep breath as Mr. and Mrs. Shades of Grey, without worrying about that bothersome knock on the door to the yichud room. We made it! We survived the engagement and the wedding, and although a lot more lay ahead for us, we were ecstatic over the new life we were beginning.

I won’t divulge anything further about that evening, for obvious reasons, other than that it turned out the hotel we stayed at was hosting several weddings that night. As we pulled up to the front driveway, dozens of drunken men and women were milling about, clearly continuing to party long after the wedding they attended had ended. A number of them saw the white limo, ran over and thumped the car with their fits, cheering us on – I think they may have mistaken us for their own recently wedded friends. At any rate, we successfully managed to avoid the unwelcome visitors and enter the hotel, quite exhausted, but filled with joy at the life we were beginning together.

So ends my series of Post Wedding Reports detailing all the ins-and-outs of our special day. I’m glad I was able to complete them, despite many delays, and hope I can look back on this record, along with our video, to help me recall the funny, bizarre, meaningful, and happy goings-on that we experienced.

Was everything absolutely perfect, just the way I envisioned it? Nope – see my post about the pictures as one example. However, the amount of things that went right far outweighed the issues and incongruities that popped up. Life isn’t perfect, and weddings certainly aren’t perfect. The main thing is to focus on the most important aspect of the wedding; namely, the fact that you are marrying the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with. All the other mishugas simply falls away when viewed from that proper perspective.

The wedding is truly only a start to life together, but it encapsulates a level of simcha as of yet unparalleled in one’s life. However, as Rav Reichman told us at Chana and Heshy’s sheva brachos, this elevated intensity of simcha does not last, and does in fact fade away as normal life sets in following the week of sheva brachos. The key for any married couple is to understand that this is but a taste of the true simcha that can be attained in marriage – a realistic goal that can be attained through hard work, dedication, mutual giving, and lots of love.

Someone recently told us that he’s been married for 24 years and it only gets better and better. I hope that we can strive to embody Rav Reichman’s lesson, and use our wedding as a model for the happiness we want to achieve and maintain throughout our lives. May everyone who is married take this lesson to heart and focus their attention on working together to ascend spiritual heights together, and may everyone not yet married soon experience this great joy and begin their own journey to recapture and relive the elation of their wedding day.

Post Wedding Report - Part 6

I know it's been a while since part 5 (and several months since our wedding), but I will finish up this series! Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Don't forget parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5!

While the band began playing and my friends rushed the chuppah, everyone was hugging each other and wishing “mazal tov” over and over. After a few minutes, ASoG and I descended the little steps hand in hand. As we danced toward the yichud room, all my friends were lined up, arms around each other’s shoulders, dancing, singing, and jumping up and down. There were one or two times where someone grabbed my free hand and started dancing with me, or rather, half of me, since I refused to release my new wife’s hand. Flashes were bursting all around us as every single young woman in attendance, and a number of guys as well, took the time to capture the moment.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to get to the yichud room. I’ve been to several weddings where the hall’s yichud room is located quite some distance away from the chuppah area, which required a long backward march for all the cheering friends, down several hallways, and a handful of turns before reaching the proper destination. One on such occasion, we danced the newlywed couple to what we thought was the yichud room, but turned out to be a broom closet once someone opened the door. Luckily, we found the right room down a nearby corridor.

When we reached the yichud room all the guys went crazy, in the usual “we don’t want to let you go just yet” fashion. Sporadic circle dancing broke out, much to the chagrin of the wedding hall planner, who tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get the guys to back off and let us proceed. After a few minutes, I was getting a little tired, not to mention that I was hungry, thirsty, and really wanted to spend some quiet time with ASoG (don’t try to read too much into the order of that list), so I stepped out of the circle and into the doorway. I totally forgot who I had wanted to be the Eidei Yichud and didn’t want to bother looking for someone who had my kibbudim list, so I grabbed two of my nearest friends and appointed them to their new job. With a few waves of our hands, ASoG and I entered the room and the door was shut behind us.

DISCLAIMER: I’m not going to go into any mushy details of what happened there for the sake of tzniyus, but I will report some of the other odd and exciting happenings.

Waiting for us was a decent sized banquet of food, which I had requested per the advice of a long-married friend of mine that there needs to be real food in the yichud room, and not just cake. The caterer had prepared servings of sushi, mini hot dogs in buns, kasha varnishkas, salad, and deli-roll (which was the appetizer served at the seudah). We washed and began to eat. I realized that the caterer had only provided us with various sodas to drink, which is really the last thing I wanted after being deprived of liquids all day. What I really needed was plain ol’ water. We poked our heads out the door to find the wedding hall coordinator standing nearby, told him what we wanted, and he quickly brought us back a pitcher of water. I thanked him profusely, and we went back to our meal.

From the Department of How to Lose Your Recently Performed Segulah for Marriage: Losing the Kallah’s jewelry that you were entrusted with.

A kallah, and the groom as well, for that matter, is not allowed to wear any jewelry under the chuppah, as a symbol that the chosson’s reasons for marrying her have nothing to do with wealth or her personal possessions. As such, the kallah normally wears her jewelry during the initial photography sessions and at the badeken, but removes them in her ready-room prior to marching down the aisle. She hands out her jewelry (necklace, earrings, bracelet, engagement ring, etc) to some close friends for safeguarding. They eagerly who clutch the jewelry during the ceremony, while hopefully davening as well, in an effort to obtain a segulah to also stand under their own chuppah in the near future.

ASoG put her best friend and shomeret in charge of distributing and collecting the jewelry before and after the chuppah, with explicit instructions to return the valuable items to the yichud room prior to our arrival. Shortly after we washed, ASoG went over to the safe and opened it up, only to discover to her horror that her jewelry wasn’t there! Frantically, she grabbed her cell phone and called her shomeret to ask where she had put it. The friend insisted that the jewelry was right there in the room, just like ASoG had instructed. After quickly tearing through the room, both ASoG and her shomeret were understandably upset about this development, though I have to admit I was busier enjoying the food, confident that something would work out. In the end, it turned out that ASoG’s shomeret had mistakenly put the jewelry in the safe located in the room next door, which she discovered and brought over to us. With that crisis concluded, we closed the door again and went back to our eating and drinking.

I’m not sure how much time we were accorded, but the photographer knocked what seemed like shortly thereafter to summon us to do another round of family pictures and all those cutesy touching pictures. We immediately dismissed him, since we wanted more time to relax and eat. I think this happened 2 or 3 times before we finally gave in and went back to the chuppah room.

The family pictures we had to take were primarily mine, since a number of my relatives characteristically came late to the hall and totally missed the first set of pictures. Some had simply forgotten they were needed at the hall early, while one actually flew in trans-Atlantic from a business conference and barely made it in time for the chuppah. However, while the previously absent relatives made sure to be there, several other formerly photographed family members couldn’t be located, having dispersed to who-knows-where. As such, we have several almost identical Grey family pictures with a few people switched around, and some relatives standing in place for others.

Once we finished those dozen or so pictures, everyone was kicked out of the room except for ASoG and I. The photographer suggested it was a good idea, because the “hold her waist and cutely kiss her forehead” pictures are awkward in the first place, and even more so when a little pre-pubescent sibling is standing there saying “ew” and making faces. However, we did get a nice couple of pictures from this set, which makes me very happy.

After the last posed picture was taken, ASoG and I went dashing back to the yichud room to change shoes. Yes, you read right, I also changed my shoes for dancing, replacing my oh-so-shiny black dress shoes with some very comfortable, slip-on, not-quite-as-shiny, black semi-athletic shoes.

Why did I do this, you may ask? First, the shoes I wore during the ceremony were brand new, and as I have learned from experience, wearing new shoes to dance at a wedding is a recipe for blisters and trouble walking for days afterward. Second, as I have also learned, shoes worn to dance at an Orthodox Jewish wedding inevitably get scuffed up, scratched, and beaten up in the extreme. Why waste the money spent on my pristine wedding shoes and ruin only to them in a few hours raucous footwork? For this reason, I have a specific pair of nice-ish shoes that I wear to weddings which are already a bit worn – though the shoes I donned then were not that particular pair.

After the quickie footwear change, we snuck back through the connecting corridor area, past a few people milling about or heading to the restroom, and into the chuppah/picture room. There was a divider connecting it to the ballroom, which the wedding hall coordinator had slid open partially so we could peek in and see all our friends eagerly waiting our arrival. The band cued up the special entrance theme I made from a particularly popular movie score (I say made, because I spent about a hour the night before cutting it down and speeding it up). The fervor of the people inside reached a crescendo along with the pumping orchestral music.

ASoG and I held hands, looked into each other’s eyes, took a deep breath and ran in as we were introduced for the first time as Rebbe and Rebbetzin* Shades of Grey!

Look for Part 7 soonish!

*Yes, the singer did announce that, funnily enough.

Post Wedding Report - Part 5

Sorry it’s been so long since the last time I continued this series. Heck, ASoG and I celebrated our X-month anniversary not too long ago (X < 10, but I don’t want to give any stalkers the chance to figure out when we got married), and I finally remembered to get back to work.

Don't forget parts 1, 2, 3, and 4!

We had a special guest sing Mi Bon Siach. The singer’s (a friend of mine) rendition of Mi Bon Siach from his album was ASoG’s favorite version, so I arranged for him to be there at the chuppah as a sort of surprise (she knew about it beforehand). As ASoG walked around me the requisite seven times, accompanied by our mothers, I alternated closing my eyes in prayer and sneaking a loving glance toward ASoG. Every time our eyes met we’d exchange a private little smile. The unspoken thought shared between us was “Yes, it’s finally here. This is real. Thank G-d.”

From the department of things that go wrong at weddings: ASoG just informed me that when she was being walked around, her dress was hiked up her slightly to accommodate her circling. In doing so, the bottom edge of the dress lifted, revealing the bottom of the white, poofy under-thing (ASoG said it’s called a crinoline) that brides wear to maintain the poofiness of their dress. While nothing scandalous was visible (just the white dress-thing, which was basically ankle length) no one bothered to fix it, and it remained that way throughout the chuppah. Consequently, we threw out a bunch of pictures that were ruined by this unfortunate oversight. Oh well…

Once ASoG finished her last circuit around me, we stood side-by-side beneath the beautiful chuppah, made of some white transparent material and a beautiful floral arrangement. My uncle served as the announcer and called up our Mesader Kiddushin (MK) to begin the ceremony. The MK said the brachos for Erusin and I took a drink from the wine, which was one of the most awful wines I’ve ever tasted in my life. When ASoG’s mother handed her the wine to drink, she also visibly recoiled when it touched her tongue.

I had read somewhere in my pre-wedding reading list that the wine under the chuppah should be sweet – aside from the positive omen aspect of it (sweet wine = sweet beginning/marriage), the more practical reason is that you haven’t had anything to drink all day, and why shouldn’t you enjoy it? Clearly the wedding hall just bought a case of mini-bottles of the cheapest stuff that could be found without really caring about the effect on their customers.

Anyway, my uncle called up the two Eidei Kiddushin, one a prominent YU Rabbi and the other a rebbe from my childhood. The MK asked me to produce the ring, I turned to Dad who had been holding it for me. Dad gave me the little box, I took out the ring and held it up. The MK asked me if the ring was in fact mine, purchased with my own money and I answered it was.

Parenthetically, when I bought the ring, I had taken cash out of an ATM per our MK’s advice to ensure the money was totally mine (the checking account I had been using was in both my name and my Mother’s, dating back a few years). To make things even better, the jeweler opened a new account in their computers so the receipt even had my name on it. He proudly handed me the receipt and said “Now you can tell the Rabbi it’s 100% kosher.”

The MK asked me to show the ring to the eidei kiddushin and asked them if they thought it was worth a sheva pruta, which they relied they believed it was. Earlier, at the Chosson’s Tisch, I had requested that the MK feed me the words to “Harei At,” because I thought I might get too nervous and forget them (I had also read this was the right thing to do, and it made sense to me), but in the moment I didn’t need any assistance. Calmly, with full confidence, I said the most important words I’ve ever uttered in my life.

Harei at mikudeshes li, b’taba’at zu, k’das Moshe v’Yisrael.

Behold, you are consecrated to me, with this ring, according to the laws of Moshe and Yisrael.

I carefully slid the ring over ASoG right index finger – just enough to get it close to her second knuckle. There is no halachic reason to force the ring to go further than that, and the ring was sized to fit her left ring finger anyway, so if it didn’t quite fit, why try to force it on and hurt her? The MK turned to the eidei kiddushin who declared “mikudeshes, mikudeshes.”

My uncle called up ASoG’s family rabbi to read the kesubah, which he did with gusto and emotion instead of the typical rush-through read. I raised the kesubah and gave it to ASoG, who promptly handed it off to her mother. The MK then took a few minutes to speak (per my request) and addressed us as well as the crowd. He spoke of our dedication and commitment to Judaism, and our future goals in life, among other things (it’s kind of hard to remember all the details, sufficed to say I thought he did a great job).

Next were the sheva brachos themselves, which were pretty difficult to organize – in order to keep everyone on both sides of the family happy (I hear this basically happens with everyone). Among those honored were relatives, rabbeim, and prominent YU personalities. I still very keenly remember the smile on each man’s face as he joined us beneath the chuppah, some offering a word of encouragement (“you’re doing great!”) before they went about the task of reciting their bracha.

After the last bracha was completed, we drank again from that horrible, awful, vile wine. I really recommend to anyone who has a chance to prepare beforehand to go buy a bottle of Moscato D’Asti or some other nice white wine (since no one wants to get red wine anywhere near the Kallah’s dress) to make sure you can at least enjoy drinking the wine under the chuppah.

A cousin of mine proceeded to sing Im Eshkocheich, and the wedding hall coordinator got the glass ready for me to stomp. As many readers may recall from my previous post on the subject, I had decided to break the glass while Im Eshkocheich was being sung – and I did exactly that. However, the coordinator was of a more traditional mindset and vehemently argued with me for a few seconds that I should wait to break the glass. In hindsight, it may have been appropriate to announce that that was what I was going to do, since the crowd was awkwardly silent for a bit after the singing ended. Friends reported to me later that there was a momentary debate regarding if I had broken the glass or not, with some saying I had with others countering that I hadn’t. Thankfully, the band started the classic post-chuppah Od Yishama and everyone leapt to their feet, cheering and wishing us “Mazal Tov!”

Look for Part 6 Soon!

Wedding Pictures Part 2: Making Your Album

Ranting aside, just how the heck do you pick which pictures are considered important enough to make it into your wedding album? If you have 600+ photographs and need to cut it down to some far more miniscule number, say 50 (or if you’re lucky and/or willing to spend the money another 10 or 20).

So what do you do, dear newlywed chosson and kallah?

The first thing we did was go through all the pictures once and take out all the bad pictures or pictures we intrinsically knew were not album worthy like empty guest tables, shmorg food, or flower center pieces. That easily cut out close to a third of all the pictures, as I mentioned in the last post.

Next, we divided the remaining pictures into categories. Keep in mind that the pictures had already gone through the hands of both ASoG’s parents and mine, so they were no longer in any sort of pristine order, having undergone the examination and selection process twice by the time we got them.

So basically, we split the pictures into these categories, roughly chronological: Family pictures, pictures of us (which isn’t strictly chronological, since it included the post yichud room cutesy touching pictures), the chosson’s tisch, the badeken, my side walking down, her side walking down, the chuppah, women side dancing, men's side dancing, and pictures of us at the seuda like washing each other’s hands, cutting the cake, and sheva brachos.

Then, as we went through each stack of pictures, we decided which shots were crucial and which ones were not. For crucial pictures, we selected the best one from the multiples that existed. We made sure that we had all the “required pictures,” including a picture of us with each set of parents, each person/couple who walked down the aisle, important moments such as me veiling ASoG at the badeken, reading the tana’aim at the tisch, reading the kesuba under the chuppah, one of us with our Mesader Kiddushin, etc.

But then things get a little tricky. The problem arises when going through the non-critical pictures, such as the multitude of pictures of just us, or all the dancing/shtick pictures, and concessions need to be made regarding what is and isn’t "album worthy."

Many of the pictures of ASoG and I feature similar poses, only perhaps from the right or left side, black and white versus color, and we had to decide which ones we thought were the best and thus album worthy. While I really liked several of the few artsy shots we have, I had to give in to make room for other pictures that were of more significance. As it turned out, we did choose a good handful of pictures of us, but not quite as many as I would have liked.

Some shtick pictures aren’t so great in terms of quality, angle etc, but feature a very unique shtick or person you are close with. Those pictures made it through the first or second round of cuts, but when it came down to the last haul to take out pictures to get our target number, those also went.

But that doesn't mean that certain cuts still don't sting a bit. Two pictures that didn’t make it which still makes me a little upset were the pictures ASoG and I took with our shomer/shomeret. They are great pictures, and for me (and ASoG too) particularly meaningful because of my close relationship with my friend who was my shomer. I fought tooth and nail (respectfully) until the last cut to keep them in, but we needed to take out two pictures, and those were the only ones that were considered expendable at that point, when all the other pictures were of the more critical variety.

So there we were, seemingly finished making all the painful decisions of who would and wouldn’t appear in our wedding album. We breathed a sigh of relief and were ready to put the pictures away and stop thinking about the whole thing when we noticed that that we were missing one of ASoG’s siblings in the set of walk-down pictures. Of course, this caused a slight panic, since that meant, to our horror, that we hadn’t finished cutting pictures.

In the end, that last, unexpected cut which had to be made was my decision. There were two pictures I had to choose from: one of ASoG and I at the Seudah posing with some shtick gifts and the other, which was a less professional shot, but featuring my parents blessing me in our ready-room just before the chuppah. I really liked both pictures, and had a hard time deciding.

Then I stopped and asked myself, “Which of these pictures am I going to care about more in 50 years?” ASoG immediately answered with the very same words I was about to say that the pictures of my parents and I, though less professional in quality, was vastly more meaningful. There were a few other pictures of ASoG and I at the meal, as I mentioned, like washing each others’ hands and cutting our cake which we did keep, so I could do without the cute picture of us.

I think that was the absolute correct decision - and that really is the bottom line.

Granted, you might think one particular picture of shtick is fantastic, or you might want umpteen pictures of you and your spouse, but what really matters are the pictures that have lasting meaning. That friend who juggled flaming torches may have been exciting in the moment and worth talking about for a few months or years afterward when recalling the dancing that took place at your wedding, but you might lose touch with him and never speak to him for 20 years.

However, that one picture of my parents blessing me, a sort of an equivalent of everyone blessing ASoG at the badeken, will always have infinite worth to me, especially one day when I show my grandchildren my wedding album when their great-grandparents might no longer be around – may my parents have long and healthy lives until 120 (at least). That picture certainly fulfills the stereotypical

So there you have it, the Shades of Grey method for wedding album selection. May everyone who has to deal with sorting through hundreds of pictures be able to figure things out in a calm and ordered fashion – and to everyone who isn’t yet engaged – may you have this to deal with “problem” soon! J

Wedding Pictures Part 1: Photographer Woes

Warning: This post is a bit of a rant, but I think people should read this as a "caveat emptor" of sorts for their own experience.

Every newlywed couple loves selecting the pictures for their album. Going through hundreds and hundreds of photographs, comparing, contrasting, and critiquing, it’s more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

Sarcasm aside, in reality, preparing your album is almost as excruciating as the picture taking process itself (which I detailed in my 2nd Post Wedding Report. Don't worry, the final parts are being worked on and will be posted).

From the department of helpful advice from someone who has been there before: To anyone engaged, soon-to-be-engaged, wish-you-were-engaged, etc – don’t pick a photographer just because they have a well known name and have advertisements plastered all over the place. Instead, check out the younger, less publicly famous photographers that are out there. Some let you keep the proofs instead of charging you a ridiculous amount of money for a single picture that you liked, but not enough to put in the album. Some photographers/videographers even give you the raw footage of your wedding instead of handing back a music video of your special day.

If you want those cool, artsy pictures with the funky angles that simply scream, “OMG that’s gorgeous!” DON’T PICK A BIG NAMED PHOTOGRAPHER just because they have a big name. Talk to your friends, see who they choose and what pictures they ended up with, go visit multiple photographers and have them show you their work. Also, TELL THEM what you want, so they know what sort of pictures you envision in your wedding album.

We made the mistake, or I should really say I made the mistake (since picking the photog was my job) of going with a famous named photographer. Granted, we got a large number of the traditional, typical pictures that every wedding album has, but none of the cool angles, etc that I had envisioned. Going through the pictures, of a total of around 600 pictures at 219 were garbage; either because they were out of focus, at a bad angle, had some object or person blocking ASoG or I, was a 3^rd or 4^th duplicate of the same picture, featured something stupid like the buffet, someone’s bentscher during sheva brachos, random background people during dancing, ill-timed attempts to capture creative shtick, had one or more people making unintentionally horrible facial expressions, or had bad lighting – including a circular shadow from the flashbulb or whatever hovering over our faces.

Even the good ones that we chose from sometimes were 4 or 5 of the identical picture from almost the same angle, with the people in the shot in an ever so slightly different position, forcing us to closely examine the pictures to determine if everyone was smiling properly, looking in the right direction, etc.

When we initially called our photographer after the wedding to discuss when we would receive the pictures, the photographer’s representative (the guy in charge never speaks to us) told us that they screen everything, do touch ups, etc to ensure that the pictures we would get to see and choose from were the absolute best. Well, it turns out that someone must have dropped the ball somewhere, because ASoG and I honestly wonder why in the world they’d even want us to see some of these, which were inherently bad pictures of one of us, or displayed a lack of talent on their part. We didn’t really miss any critical moment of the chuppah, badeken, or chosson’s tisch, and the family pictures were taken and retaken until good photos were produced, but some of the most creative, humorous, and memorable shtick is hardly or badly documented – for example, someone lit a hat on fire and proceded to dance, but there are 4 pictures of him wearing the hat, none of which show it on fire - which really upsets me.

On top of all that, while going through the rest of the pictures, ASoG and I made a startling discovery as we began comparing similar shots (for example, multiple variations of us with my parents) to see which one we liked best. Namely, for at least two dozen or so pictures, the photographer simply took the previous picture, enlarged and cropped it ever so slightly, so you basically have the same photograph TWICE with a little more zoom and a little less bordering material (be that people’s legs or flowers) in the image. Now THAT is lazy. Honestly, why not take an actual zoomed in picture so see if you could get a change of expression or better shot?

As mentioned previously, while some photographers are gracious enough to let you keep the proofs - ours will not. Instead, they are charging an arm and a leg for a single 4 x 6 picture. A recently married relative was given all their proofs on a CD, which allowed them to make duplicates at a local pharmacy, whereas it is illegal to do so with the actual prints that we own, so we’re kind of stuck (our parents are trying to negotiate a deal so we don’t go broke getting more of the pictures we want, so there is still some hope for my guilty feelings).

UPDATE 1/6/11 - It turns out we DO get to keep all of the proofs after the albums are made.

We haven’t seen their video yet, but they insist on “editing it” without giving us the raw footage, which I want. I have no clue what they are and aren’t going to cut. Even if they insist they only remove extraneous video of their crew waiting for something to happen, I think I might be able to do a better job myself. I definitely don’t want a music video of the wedding, but the best video documentation possible. Anyway, that’s a battle for another day…

So, lesson learned – and I hope others can benefit from our experience and not miss out on capturing the various moments of one of the most important days of their lives.

Check back on Wednesday for some advice on the actual process of creating a wedding album.

Post Wedding Report - Part 4

Don't forget Parts 1, 2 and 3.

I will say that it is darn hard to figure out how to stay smiling so long during that march to the chuppah, as well as how to configure your facial expressions during the time you’re up there. The second issue is more relevant to the chosson who is up there during the entire procession of the kallah’s family, though the walk-down is something they both must confront. Smiling the entire way down, without moving a muscle above the neck is very difficult, not to mention somewhat painful - particularly after having exercised those cheeks, lips, and eyebrows for several hours beforehand. While I did smile the whole way down the aisle, I didn’t just stare ahead like a zombie, I looked to the side (the men’s side that is) and saw family, friends, and rabbeim standing and beaming with anticipation.

While the whole day felt so surreal, that particular aura was compounded dozens, if not hundreds of times over the minute I stepped through that door. Everyone, and I mean everyone was looking right at me. Man was that intense, to say the least.

My mind was racing, a million questions flying through my head, most wondering if this, in fact, reality.

Was this really happening?

Was this day finally here?

After all the trials and tribulations of two and a half years of dating, the ups and downs, disappointments and triumphs, was I really walking toward my own chuppah, holding the hands of the two people who gave birth to me and raised me to be the man I have become?

Was I really about to start my own family, to have someone I love and care about take on my last name and align herself with me over her own parents and siblings?

Was I really ready to be a husband; did I have what it takes to be loving, understanding, patient, considerate, respectful –and a hundred other things – to truly fulfill the role as it should be?

Was I mature enough, responsible enough, and grown enough to take upon the responsibilities required of me?

In short: Was I really ready?

The answer to all those questions, at that moment, and certainly now (at least I hope) was simply: yes.

Once we ascended the few steps to the chuppah, we had a little bit of a break as the band began to sing Mi Adir. The wedding coordinator told my parents to dress me in the kittel, to which Mom replied, “I have no idea how to do that!” Dad stepped in, very nonchalantly, and offered his services. Dad helped me into the white robe – which was to remind me of the personal Yom Kippur I had endured all day until this moment, the purity that my soul had attained in being forgiven of all of my sins, the holiness of the day, as well as the day of death, since one day (G-d willing not anytime soon) I will also don a white robe, but for the last time.

Standing up there is a bit nerve-wracking. I had my list of things to daven for, primarily thanks to this wonderful article on Aish.com. I printed that list out and read it probably 5 or 6 times over the course of the day that I had practically memorized it. I also davened for all the single friends I knew, both those present and elsewhere. The one tefillah that I kept repeating over and over again, almost mantra-like was that “ASoG and I should be always be as happy and fulfilled in our lives together as we are at this most sacred and elevated moment.”

I very distinctly remember my Mother commenting to me after my graduation from our local Jewish day school in 8^th grade that I never smiled or seemed happy while I was up on stage with my classmates. I replied that I wasn’t happy at all, it was a very serious moment and I was in fact a bit sad, since I knew we were all never going to be in the same class together again, with different kids going to one of six different schools. Because of this incident, I told myself I wouldn’t be stone faced under the chuppah, despite the gravity of the occasion.

As I alternatively watched ASoG’s relatives walk down, scanned the crowd, and closed my eyes in prayer, I made sure to vary my facial expressions, going from smiley happy, to serious concentration, and optimistic longing for ASoG – as well as many other emotions that were swirling through me.

The moment ASoG appeared was absolutely magical.

The band did a stupendous job at creating just the right atmosphere with each walk-down theme - particularly when ASoG was escorted down the aisle toward me –I was almost in tears. Yom Chuppah L’Chatan mentions that it is particularly important for a chosson to shed tears under the chuppah as part of the overall teshuva process of the day. Although no tears flowed down my cheeks, I was darn close. I remember one chosson who married a friend of mine had both tears and mucus from his nose running down his face to the point where I really wanted to announce “won’t someone get the poor boy a tissue!?!” Perhaps that memory kept me in check…

When ASoG was within a few feet of the chuppah, I descended the steps to go greet her, as it were. Her parents released her hands, and we walked side-by-side up to the chuppah – the first act of leaving her parents’ home to join me in forming our own.

Post Wedding Report - Part 3

Don't forget Part 1 and Part 2.

The wedding hall coordinator thrust a single rose into my hand. I had bought a bouquet earlier in the day with my shomer. I intended to give ASoG the rest of the roses later, but they mysteriously vanished from my dressing room. The guys were going crazy singing and jumping up and down as we made our way down the hall to the shmorg area. I felt very strange (in an almost out-of-body-experience way) to be the center of attention instead of one of the young men clamoring to get to the front of the group. There was the usual squeeze for space, with some guys getting pushed out of the way as we went through a set of double doors – after which they ran back around to rejoin everyone once we entered the hall where ASoG was holding court.

The women waiting for our arrival whipped out their cameras and flash bulbs went off all over the place. Oh my, there were a lot of cameras – most of the pictures we have of the badeken, even the official ones, feature at least four or five women holding a camera. My father and ASoG’s released my hands, and I there I was, just standing there holding the rose, amidst the cheering and flashing cameras, because no one told me what to do.

To be honest, I had never heard of the whole flower giving thing before ASoG casually mentioned it during our engagement. In all the marriage books I read, I don’t think I ever saw this practice referenced once. ASoG insisted, and after I surveyed a number of friends who gave a flower at the badeken (several of whom had also not heard of doing so before their fiancées told them), I saw no real objection to it and acquiesced to her request.

Anyway, I handed ASoG the flower, after which she and I exchanged confused expressions and I asked her what I was supposed to do exactly. I had recently read that the kallah’s father was supposed to do the veil, and in my own experience, I had never been close enough to the badeken to actually see what the procedure was. So she beckoned me over, bowed forward slightly, and I reached up and over to gently pull the veil down over her face.

Remember how I mentioned there were certain times when I was basically ignored back in post two? This was one of them. As soon as I veiled ASoG, it was like I didn’t exist. ASoG was blessed by her father, my Father, her grandfather and great uncle – and the entire time everyone was singing and taking pictures, and I was just standing there alone. After a few minutes of feeling awkward, I decided to dance by myself in place, since there wasn’t much else I could do.

Following her great uncle’s bracha, I turned around with our fathers and a friend rushed over to give me the obligatory ride on the shoulders to the pre-chuppah ready room. I say obligatory, because that seems to be the case in the most every wedding I’ve been to. However, recently I went to a Lakewood/Ner Yisrael wedding wherein they didn’t do this, which seemed odd to me (and several other guests made similar remarks to me).

At any rate, I am not so much scared of heights as I am about the possibility of being dropped from a height that could injure me. I once saw a chosson lifted onto a table (yes, one of the round ones in the wedding hall) who fell flat onto the table, but thankfully was injured, as well as a relative who raised up on a serving tray (yes, the little round ones the servers put dirty dishes on) and rhythmically danced without incident.

Regardless, for anyone who has ever been lifted on someone else’s shoulders before – and I’m guessing only the male readers have any inkling of what it is like since no one else can be like Rav Acha (from Kesubos 17A) and hoist the bride on his shoulders for wedding shtick – it can be a little worrisome. In order to make sure I didn’t tilt too much and fall off, I immediately (and repeatedly, as we danced along) called out to nearby friends and grabbed their hands for balance and support. This worked out nicely, since I prevented myself from having an awkward confrontation with the floor thanks to gravity, and I got to “dance” with guys instead of merely hitching a ride.

Thankfully, we made it to the pre-chuppah ready room without incident – though ducking under the door getting out into the hallway was, as always, a bit of a close call. I slid down from my perch and as soon as my feet hit the floor all the guys exploded with singing and dancing, to the point where the wedding hall coordinator guy had to make two or three attempts to get the guys to head to their seats so we could get on with the show. Just as I was about to close the door, they burst into one final niggun so they could triumphantly get “the last word in,” much to my delight as well as the chagrin of the wedding hall coordinator.

Finally the door was shut, leaving just my immediate family alone for a few minutes of peace and unity before everything really began. Earlier in the day, while temporarily making a detour to my shomer’s house, I had translated a wonderful tefillah/bracha from Yom Chuppah L’Chatan for my parents to say, which they read aloud together. It was a very emotionally impactful moment – the last time we would share our status as the nuclear Grey family without the soon-to-be daughter-in-law added to the mix. I think Mom wiped back a tear or two, but for the most part we were overwhelmed with excitement and nervous about the tremendous change that was about to take place. I would no longer be their little boy, playing with my action figures and annoying them when I wouldn’t turn the volume down on my videogames.

After a round of hugs, everyone but my parents and I were called out to begin the procession. My parents and I waited a big longer, then stepped out into the hallway, doing our best to remain carefully out of sight as the doors opened and closed for the others walking down before us. The wedding coordinator handed my parents their candles, which Mom was nervous about carrying, since she didn’t want to drop it and burn the hall down. He then made sure to emphatically instruct us that we were to walk to the edge of the doorway, stop, and then proceed with our right foot forward. I had read about this in Yom Chupa L’Chatan – it’s a significant omen that the wedding should start off “on the right foot,” with the proper intention and with good mazal.

My walk-down theme began to sound from the nearby chuppah room, and we cautiously crept forward and stood still by the door. After a deep breath, all three of us took that all-too-important and life changing right step into the next phase of our lives.

Post Wedding Report - Part 2

In case you missed part one, you can find it here.

One of the people who kept poking his head into my dressing room was, of course, our photographer. Unsurprisingly, he kept inquiring when I’d be ready so we could start taking pictures. He always seemed to catch me right after another interruption, and thus I was never ready when he asked. This made me feel kind of bad for him, as I imagined him trying to placate my parents and future in-laws while he dashed back and forth in his attempt to retrieve me. The last time he popped in, I was basically dressed with the exception of my white chosson’s tie, since I don’t yet know how to do a full Windsor tie knot (yeah, yeah whatever - I'm trying to learn). He quickly offered to tie the full Windsor knot (which I preferred for the occasion since it just looks nicer than the standard half-Windsor), and I was finally ready to go.

Of course, we had to do the whole shticky bit of photographing the moment ASoG and I saw each other for the first time. One problem I had with this was that I had read an idea in the sefer Yom Chupa L’Chatan that it is important to try and say a shehechiyanu on the day of the wedding. While it is a very appropriate shevach to HaShem and would seemingly fit the occasion, for some reason the bracha was not built into the ceremony at all. Hence, it is worthwhile to have a new suit or something else that requires a shehechiyanu for the chosson to say in the presence of the kallah and have her answer amein, having in mind the significance of reaching the day of marriage as well.

I did, indeed, have a brand-new suit for the occasion, but the tricky part was figuring out how to put it on then say the shehechiyanu without creating a significant delay between donning the suit for the first time and reciting the bracha. So, the answer I figured out on the spot was to simply not wear my suit jacket during this first meeting picture sequence, and subsequently put it on after the cameramen left us alone, then said the shehechiyanu. My reasoning was that it isn’t worthwhile to say shehechiyanu on a new pair of pants, which isn’t so chashuv, since it should be said on the complete suit, which I wasn’t technically wearing without the jacket. I was very happy receive confirmation from Rav Simon (who, as I mentioned in the last post, is currently doing topics on Shehechiyanu in his weekly Sunday halacha shiur) that this course of action was a good thing to do.

The picture taking process itself, as you might imagine – or have heard from any married person, or sibling of a married person – is heck, simply put. The feeling of standing there, doing pose after awkward pose, straining the limits of your ability to focus, smile and re-smile, and maintain a good sense of patience through the whole thing is very draining. And don’t forget that all this is on top of the fact that I was fasting. ASoG had had a bit to drink earlier and was a slightly better off than I. Before any unmarried or uninformed readers jump all over my wife, after asking a she’ayla about this, my rav informed me that even the biggest poskim are very maykil (lenient) on women fasting on the day of their wedding, since they are often nervous wrecks as it is without the additional strain of fasting to burden them. However, she had to contend with the rather binding fit of her dress, which restricted her breathing and movement a bit, so perhaps she really was worse off than I was.

One good thing that our photographer did – which I recommend to all readers for their own wedding – is to kick out everyone else when we did our couple pictures, both before and after the chuppah. Pictures are of this sort are generally awkward enough as it is, all the more so when it’s just you and your soon-to-be/brand-new spouse. No one wants their crazy Aunt Faygel, let alone annoying little siblings or even beaming, proud parents sit there on the sidelines making comments, faces, and other distractions. Of course, all the onlookers were extremely disappointed when the head photographer announced that everyone other than ASoG and I had to leave. Despite this precaution, a few anxious, camera-happy relatives still tried taking pictures through the little window of the door at the back of the room, or attempted to follow us when we changed locations for different scenery in the pictures.

As a side note, it would appear to me that hands are a photographer’s worst enemy. I’ve noticed from my own picture taking experiences, both formal and informal, that hand positioning is always difficult. I’ve seen pictures I’ve been in where everything is perfect, except my hands are awkwardly or strangely positioned. In this instance, I don’t think I’ve ever thrust my hands into my pockets so many times in my life. Wedding photographers constantly make the guys stick their hands in their pockets to get them out of sight and out of mind. They kept telling me that it’s the fashion model thing to do; standing there with one leg up on a step-stool, and my hand facing the camera pulling my jacket aside while carefully inserted into my pants pocket.

Family pictures were fun, crazy, and a bit of a hassle at the same time. Despite the fact that our immediate family was (hopefully) on time, the abundance of extended relatives were not even close. Several of ASoG’s uncles and cousins came rather late to the wedding, my father forgot to tell his younger brother what time pictures were so that he and my aunt were “busy” relaxing at the hotel when we did my side’s pictures, and a cousin of mine had to fly in from a business trip - from Europe – but only after making a connecting flight upon reaching the States (he arrived in time for the tisch). We ended up having to round up my extended family a second time, which was a hoot in-and-of-itself, following our post-yichud room pictures just to make sure these temporarily absent relatives got their chance to appear in the wedding album.

Once pictures were finally over, Mom and ASoG’s Mom whisked her away with other assorted female relatives squealing in tow to her throne by the shmorg for the Kabbolas Panim.

As a side point - another thing I noticed during the course of my wedding was how much of a difference of attention is given to the kallah versus the chosson. ASoG had a whole entourage take her to the kabbolas panim, whereas all the male relatives simply dispersed, either running to the bathroom and/or to grab food at the shmorg. So there I was, all alone with the ring, kesubah, and tana’im, just waiting around by myself for guests in the tisch room (my shomer had stepped out during pictures, since I wasn't alone and I didn't have my phone with me to call him back). The same thing happened at the badeken and after we made our grand entrance, but I’ll talk more about that later.

Thankfully, one of my rabbeim, along with my friend who drove him in showed up a few minutes later and kept me company until everyone else starting filing in after they stopped by the shmorg on their way in. I didn’t really sit at the head table so much as I had seen many friends do at their own weddings. Instead, I spent most of my time walking about and schmoozing with friends, family, and rabbeim.

The two most frequently asked questions were “Wow, can you believe you’re getting married?” and “Wow, I can’t believe you’re up and about. You’re fasting, right? Are you okay?” Generally, I am a pretty good fast-er, especially on days unlike Yom Kippur where I can ride around in cars and enjoy air conditioning instead of making the long walk to shul from my house. I was perhaps a little weak, but the excitement of the moment and the accompanying adrenaline were keeping me pretty buoyant.

I was also regularly accosted by soon-to-be distant relatives I had never met before who would simply say "Mazal tov! I'm going to be your cousin/great-uncle/some relation so far removed that even your kallah doesn't know me!" then omit actually telling me what their name was. I guess it was nice of them to realize that I would have about 0% chance of remembering who they were, even if one or two of them were somewhat significant figures that I had been briefed about/heard about many times during our engagement. Despite that courtesy, what was the real point of actually saying that to my face? Particularly if this was one of the few chances I'd ever have to interact with them, why not make it memorable and give me a name to feebly attempt to store in my mind?

Anyway, the kabbolas panim was a big deal for me (as was the rest of the wedding), because it was the first time the two halves of my life, namely the YU side and my hometown side, have ever interacted. I’ve sort of lived two distinct lives, one when I'm here in New York and the other when I'm back home. I have two totally different sets of friends and rabbeim, each quite different from the other, but for me the variety has really benefitted me and given me the ability to grow into the person I am today. Very few people from there have ever gone to YU, with several notable exceptions, and I’m probably the most pro-YU person in the community. It was wonderful for me to feel such a sense of shelaymus/completeness when my rabbeim from home and YU were all together, some even acting together as pairs of eidim for different kibbudim. Seeing Rabbi Blau together with my middle school rebbe/former NCSY advisor or Rabbi Carmy with a close family friend who half-adopted me when I became shomer shabbos, put a huge smile on my face.

Finally, things got underway when my Mesader Kiddushin (henceforth referred to as MK) arrived and I was called to my seat at the head of the table. My YU friends, who were sitting nearby, began singing very enthusiastically as we began with me doing the kinyan for the tan’aim, which was signed by the witnesses, the kesubah was similarly signed, and read aloud by a friend of ASoG’s family. After I did the kinyan, and my MK was busy making sure the eidim were signing correctly, the photographer had me take several cheesy pictures holding up the ring and looking intently at the kesubah, etc.

There have been so many times where I've sat at a chosson's tisch, munching on food, singing and enjoying the festivities. It was a somewhat surreal experience to suddenly be the center of attention rather than simply a guest. I would venture to say that most of the day's proceedings had at least some tinge of that out-of-body feeling, as though the significance of the moment wasn't quite hitting me just yet.

After the tana'im were read, Our mothers broke the plate over the back of a chair, and the band struck up the usual “Od Yishoma.” My Father and ASoG’s each grabbed a hand to lead me to greet my bride amidst the cheers, singing, and antics of my friends.

Look For Part 3 Soon!

Post Wedding Report - Part 1

Man, weddings sure do come and go in the blink of an eye. After all those months of dating, finally making the decision to pop the question, creating an elaborate proposal set-up, planning until you’re sick of planning, the big day is over before you know it. A then-very-soon-to-be cousin-in-law told me during picture taking that it is very important to mentally take a step back and capture a picture of the scenes in front of you during the course of the whole wedding shindig. He was definitely right in offering his advice. Particularly after looking through all the official pictures, with the occasional oo-ing and ah-ing at the beautiful, yet awkwardly arranged family or couple pictures, the photo documentation of the amazing shtick my friends and family pulled off pales in comparison to the mental record I have in my head.

At any rate, sheva brachos have also flown by, with their own beauty, friendship, and deliciousness beginning to fade into memory. It was very heartwarming to see so many friends and family members put in the extra effort to celebrate with us again, especially after many (at least on my side) schlepped so far just to be present at part of, or hopefully all of, the wedding itself. I can imagine how tiresome it can get for those in the northern parts of this country who frequently get wedding invitations and must make an obligatory appearance to keep the peace, despite the utter exhaustion of preparing for yet another all-too-brief dressed-up outing.

Nevertheless, the wedding turned out almost exactly as I had been dreaming of these past few months of engagement. Thank G-d, next to nothing went wrong, despite the warnings of more experienced married friends and parents of friends who have married off several children. The only things that come to mind are forgetting to ask the band if we could record the performance (which wasn’t done at any rate), a shortage of one of the specifically chosen colored ties for the wedding party (which was semi-easily replaced), and the odd occurrence that someone’s expensive new suit jacket seemingly vanished into thin air (thankfully, it was recovered a few days later).

I arose early-ish that morning to go to the mikvah and daven shacharis, after which my shomer and I raced back to my apartment so I could shave and re-shower (men’s mikvah water is notoriously not the cleanest) before we started heading to the wedding hall. In the mad dash across the Heights, my shomer proved to be worth his appointment when he saved me from stepping in dog droppings, which would have put a damper on the start of the day’s proceedings. After leaving the Heights, we managed to find a yeshiva (a yeshivish yeshiva, and here I was wearing my YU fleece, and my shomer his kipa sruga) near the hall where they conveniently davened mincha right when I needed it, and I spent a good half hour pouring my heart out in words of teshuva for my past misdeeds and asking HaShem for bracha and hatzlacha in my relationship with ASoG, as well as that I should be the best possible husband that she so rightly deserves.

One contradiction I faced during davening that day was the practice of omitting tachanun in the presence of a chosson (IE: yours truly). At Shacharis, we didn’t say tachanun. At mincha, a rebbe at the yeshiva wished my mazal tov, after which he inquired exactly when the wedding was. When I replied that it was actually after shekia (sun set) he announced that we would indeed be saying tachanun. While all the disappointed yeshiva bochrim begrudgingly went about saying tachanun after chazaras hashatz (the out-loud repetition of the shemonah esrei), sufficed to say neither I nor my shomer said tachanun. One friend who had the same issue earlier this year later told me that the congregation omitted tachanun the day of his wedding, despite the fact that his chupah also took place after dark. Another person told me the whole thing is a machlokes. Anyone heard anything about this?

Anyway, shortly before arriving at the hall, I sent a preemptive warning via text message so that ASoG would be spirited away to her dressing room and thus avoid seeing me earlier than necessary. Once that was arranged, my shomer and I were shown to my dressing room. Upon opening the door (which had a little number pad to provide a secure entry), we discovered – much to our surprise –a woman nursing her baby. We promptly slammed the door in shock, thankfully we didn’t see anything we shouldn’t have, and my soon-to-be sister-in-law took care of the intruder (who was attending the ongoing bar mitzvah).

Getting dressed was comical at best. Every few minutes someone would knock on the door, wanting to either: randomly take a picture, ask some inane question, give me a gift, or just say hi. As such, it took far longer than necessary to get ready. Putting in my contacts was ridiculous. I stood there with one contact in and the other on my fingertip awaiting application for about ten minutes, with multiple interruptions preventing me from inserting it. At one point, ASoG came running in looking for the Tena’im, which suddenly wasn't with the Kesubah or the marriage license (as it should have been). I remained locked in the bathroom while the search took place. As it turned out, the Tena'im ended up being found in another room entirely.

Parenthetically, one of the things I noticed that happens frequently at weddings is not that things go wrong per se, but awry – particularly in a humorous sense, if one has the ability to appreciate it.

Check out Part 2 here.