Beginning anew
I’m about to go to a wedding, coming up this weekend during Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year. The family member who is getting married is Jewish, but he is marrying a non-Jew and his wedding will be secular. It’s a second marriage for both the bride and groom, and though I don’t spend a lot of time with the couple, I am on the verge of giddiness.
It’s not because I am a sentimental person who cries at every wedding. I used to be. There were a number of weddings over the years that reminded me of my own wedding, sweet and fun, where guests who’d never before met looked like they were having a great time together. But then I attended a few weddings that affected me with their earnest feelings and yet ended in divorce several years later. I’m thinking of the shy, nerdy couple who seemed like peas in a strange little pod. Their New England wedding was small and quaint, culminating in the planting of a tree together. A few years later, their marriage ended with a whimper. And I got to know a number of couples whose marriages were far from what I thought of as love. Then I attended a few weddings where I wasn’t really sure why I’d been invited, or why I’d RSVP’d yes, and proceeded to feel awkward and trapped for many hours. This time I’m thinking of the neverending wedding cruise made up mostly of guests who knew each other from Star Trek conventions. And then there’s the megachurch wedding, where a minister who hardly knew the couple’s names thundered about marriage being between a MAN and a WOMAN, and that the marriage he was performing would be between the groom, the bride, and Christ. That one was particularly tough.
Plus, I hadn’t ever recovered from my own wedding, now 14 years ago, when I learned firsthand what a ridiculous scam so much of the industry is. I would ask a restaurant how much it cost to cater a meal for 75 people and receive a quote. Then I would mention that the special event was a wedding, and like magic, the quote would multiply. Everywhere I went, dress shopping, cake sampling, scouting for venues, I quickly learned to divert the schmaltzy wedding “specialists” who tried to convince me, a 28-year-old who was keeping my name, that what I really wanted was a Barbie dream wedding. Years ago I saw the movie “Muriel’s Wedding” and realized that I did not understand the female characters at all — why would getting married make your life that different, unless you were marrying the love of your life?
I don’t want to say much about the couple getting married this weekend — that’s their story to tell — other than that they have what looks to me like genuine, grownup love. One has teenage children, who are some of the most delightful people I know. They are generous and thoughtful. They act like loving, respectful, calm partners. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a beautifully suited pair choose each other, and I think it means more because this is not their first marriage. That it comes at my favorite time of year is all the better — fall, the season of apples and honey.
