"What is he doing?"
Beneath the chuppah, the chosson was in the throes of something between an epileptic fit and an improvised attempt at boxing; face streaked with tears, nose unattractively red, he back-breakingly flung himself back and forth, his fists brandished to the skies above.
I was terrified that he would head-butt his bride.
"He's going to do himself an injury!"
Unable to watch anymore, I kept my eyes on the pattern of the jacket in front of me, memorizing the silver threads against the navy satin background. To think I had been annoyed that I didn't get a good seat.
I wasn't the only woman to find his histrionics embarrassing. "That is very immature," said the lady next to me of the feverish floundering taking place.
He wasn't that bummed ten minutes earlier by the badeken, when he came in with a cartoonishly goofy grin and chattered away to the kallah, taking his sweet time before veiling her.
He wasn't that bummed ten minutes earlier by the badeken, when he came in with a cartoonishly goofy grin and chattered away to the kallah, taking his sweet time before veiling her.
I peeked to see if he had slowed down at all, but he was still at it. His kallah stood a good distance away, probably trying to avoid a black eye. I quickly focused my eyes on the fabric before me again, wondering if he would pass out from sheer exhaustion.
"I bet he took notes by his friends' weddings," I noted dryly. "'You call that crying? I'll show you crying!'"
Not soon enough, the chuppah blessedly concluded. There's going to be a lot of video editing tomorrow.
Just in case it has to be said, one can never go wrong with a little dignity.
2 comments:
I wonder when it happened.
Once upon a time weddings were happy events. The groom, replesendent in his white kittel and the bride in her one-time-only dress strode down the aisles all smiles and joy because this was the happiest days of their lives.
Now the groom comes out with a black trenchcoat and both of them have a look like they're being taken to the zombie pit to be eaten. And Jews being Jews it isn't about being serious. No, we have to show how freakin' scared we are!
Sigh. I hate weddings.
The concept of the coat over the kittel is based on old-country format, as the kittel is also one's burial shroud, so a coat is worn atop (usually black for dudes; maybe they should get themselves something in camel for the occasion) to take away the sting of the hinted death.
White represented death in pretty much every culture until recently, when Queen Victoria wore a white wedding dress and it then became the the style. Gals would usually have a dress made up in any color that was of good quality and could be worn for many years to come. Who would get a dress and only get a few hours use out of it?
I have noticed a correlation between those who date for a longer time and the appearance of joy underneath the chuppah. Time spent in another's company makes a difference.
What I want to know is, when did standing still and with dignity become too boring?
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