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May 14, 2007

Ties that Bind

“This is our very good friend, Mr. Avrech.”

The chosson's father hesitates a second, recovers nicely, takes my hand in a firm handshake, and gives me a warm smile.

“Mazal Tov,” I say.
“Thank you, thank you.”

The hesitation? Perfectly understandable. Let's size up the situation from the Father's point of view:

He's flown into Los Angeles from Lakewood...

“My very first time west of Chicago.”

To celebrate the L'chaim for his beloved son to the daughter of my good friends here in Los Angeles...

“Such a fine family, what a b'racha for all of us...”

And the apartment here in Hancock Park is chock full of black-hat Yeshivish couples. For this is The Other Side of Town; a mere twelve-minute drive from my neighborhood, Pico-Robertson, but when spoken, out-of-towners imagine that we Los Angelinos are describing a space as wide and deep as the Grand Canyon.

Which, I suppose, is the whole idea.

Silly, really.

“What a nice community; who knew in California?”

And all of sudden the father of the Kallah introduces yours truly, dressed in L.L. Bean khakis, a plaid shirt, tzitzis definitely not hanging out, and yes, I'm wearing a regulation black velvet yarmulke, but: this is a very good friend?

Confusing.

But the Chosson's Father makes the adjustment just beautifully.

We play Jewish Geography and discover that The Chosson's Father knows Karen's Uncle, The Rabbi from Chicago, and now we are totally cool.

“And where's your wife?"
“She's in avelut, but she wanted me to convey her very best wishes and a huge mazal tov to you and your lovely family."

The Chosson's Father actually winces, looks pained when I tell him that Karen is in avelut, still in mourning. He is a good man, it's so obvious.

I spend a few minutes with my friend the Kallah's mother.
“You know I read your blog when I'm at work—even though I shouldn't.”
“Thank you.”
“I really like it.”
“What do you like and what don't you like?”

My mini-focus group. And, naturally, fishing for compliments.

“I go right past the politics, but oh, I really love the personal stuff.”
“I hear that from a lot of women.”
“Well...”

Her daughter, the Kallah, who projects the air of a more mature and wiser woman, says to me:

“You must take home some cookies for Karen. I'm so sorry she couldn't come."

I look at the Kallah and, oh my, I feel a knot in my throat.

The Father of the bride walks me to the door.

“I have to leave, Karen's waiting for me downstairs.”
“I really appreciate that you came.”
“Listen you and I, we know how important it is to celebrate simchas.”
He puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezes firmly.

Of couse we are good friends.

I look past him, at the picture of his child who died several years ago.

There's also a picture of his son who was one of Ariel's ZT'L best friends in high school; this son, who regularly sends me pictures of his wife and children, his growing family. Karen and I watch them flourish and it gives us joy, a great measure of comfort.

At the stairs my friend and I hug. “Mazal Tov, Mazal Tov.”

Outside, Karen is waiting for me; I wave to the love of my life, and smile through my tears.

Posted by Robert J. Avrech at May 14, 2007 09:50 AM

Comments

Seraphic Secret is private property, that's right, it's an extension of our home, and as such, Karen and I have instituted two Seraphic Rules and we ask commentors to act respectfully.

1. No profanity.

2. No Israel bashing. We debate, we discuss, we are respectful. You know what Israel bashing is. The world is full of it. Seraphic Secret is one of the few places in the world that will not tolerate this form of anti-Semitism.

That's it. Break either of these rules and you will be banned.

Posted by: Jake at May 14, 2007 01:25 PM

Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at May 14, 2007 01:29 PM

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