After multiple complaints about costs and formalities and I guess general winging or whining, I finally did it. I got married. My wedding was anon. The game was afoot as Sherlock Holmes would have said. But I did not want a totally traditional wedding as my bride wanted. I have learned that it is easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. But I realize that sometimes forgiveness is not given so easily. At least the couch is comfy.
Sharon wanted a big wedding with all the bells and whistles of a traditional Jewish wedding. Actually she had images of getting married like one of Tevye’s daughters from the Fiddler on the Roof. She did not take into account that her spouse had other plans. No one said he was mature! So what happened? Well, Sharon had planned a big march to the wedding canopy that was supposed to take about 10 minutes. You know, all the siblings and their spouses first and then the brides maids, all throwing petals on the ground for her big entrance and all entering to the traditional sounds from the Fiddler on the Roof musical played expertly by a violinist. We did not want the “Here comes the bride” march which I often jokingly say that at a different tempo, it sounds like a dirge. Where was I in the picture? I have no parents who will walk by my side? I told her I would be there waiting for her at the altar, not the sacrificial altar but the wedding altar. I wonder if there is a difference? Little did she know what I had in store for her. Get to that later.
The Wedding Ceremony
So all the troops came in and so did she and then the ceremony started. The Rabbi asked us all to switch off our mobile phones and I said that I just want to check my Facebook messages first. He was not impressed. Then he asked for the ring. He asked me if I had paid for it and whether it was round and I said yes. You should have seen his face when I gave a ring with a smiley face like in the image. My betrothed actually told me to behave myself. Fortunately I had a backup, a gold ring.
The time comes for the reading of the agreement which is known as a Ketubbah. This according to Jewish religion is a kind of purchase of the bride from her parents. Don’t complain to the messenger! They required me to write a sum of money which I will pay out if we part ways and I said 16 Trillion Dollars which is the debt of the US treasury. The Rabbi was shocked and said that is unrealistic. I looked at him and said how can I place a sum of money on Sharon; she is priceless. The hall was stunned! All my previous transgressions somehow forgiven and more than one tear in the crowd, none from me.
Despite the request of one of the editors, there is no picture of me being carried in the air by the party goers. None of them wanted a hernia. Kill me now!
But here is my big entrance to the altar, boldly going where others have gone before:
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