Silver Day

25 years ago today, Wifey and I were married. I remember it well. We checked into the Downtown Hyatt, a place we chose because, of the 170 guests, one was Glatt kosher: Wifey's Uncle Alter. Since my in laws were paying for the wedding, and since my mother in law adored her brother, the meals of the many turned on the religion of one...

It was a fine choice, mostly. The hotel was less than 10 years old, and they did a nice job, except for charging guests to valet park after we had prepaid that, and forgetting to serve the wedding cake.

Still, our relief rabbi, Norman Lipson, did a serviceable job. Dr. Eric's mother Norma found him for us after our "spiritual partner," who I'll call Mark Kram, since that's his name, abandoned us at the last moment to take a free trip to Israel. Kram came to symbolize to Wifey and I everything we abhorred about organized religion: he was sanctimonious, greedy, and, it turned out, a complete hypocrite. What he did to us took years to undue; we never joined a synagogue until after the Ds were born. But again, Rabbi Lipson did his job, and well read the vows we had written, borrowing from Bob Dylan's "Shelter From the Storm."

My father in law took out several flower arrangements as he made his way down the aisle, and in a moment that's become family lore, my mother in law grabbed Wifey and kissed her after I broke the glass, before I had the chance to. Ah, Wifey: the benefits and perils of being an only child...

The party was fine. We had chosen my mother's favorite bandleader, Harry Frank, because he was right out of the 40s. Harry was a classic Catskills style tummeler, and he cracked wise and warmly, as he lead his band. And then, our friend Elizabeth's husband Pat Travers, in a rare move for a fellow who had a few rock and roll gold records, joined the band and played some songs.

This was made even more memorable because Wifey's friend Eileen, a local actress, having consumed heavily, decided to summon her inner Chrissie Hynde and join Pat, but sang "Good Lovin" while Pat played and led tha band to "Gimme Some Lovin."

Small matter. We danced, and the young folks who knew Pat's "Boom Boom" and "Snortin' Whiskey, Drinkin' Cocaine" danced and sang along, while the older guests wondered who this fellow with the blue satin jacket and purple streak in his hair was, and why he was playing rock and roll with a Borscht Belt band.

We haven't spoken to Pat in many, many years (we're still close with Elizabeth), but we're forever in his debt for giving us that most precious musical gift.

And the band played on. We were all having such a great time, that my mother agreed to pay for Harry Frank's overtime. What a night!

Much later, the guests left, and Wifey and I retired to our honeymoon suite. Our families stayed at the hotel, too. Wifey and I disrobed, (this may have been the first and last time Wifey put on lingerie), we got into bed, and performed the traditional ritual of a Jewish couple on their honeymoon night.

We opened the gift envelopes and added up the value of the checks. My in laws' friend and families wrote large ones; my mother's relatives and friends, not so much. I seem to recall getting like several $500 checks from the Holocaust Survivor groups. My mother's sister, still my mother's only surviving sibling, gave a card "from all of us." I think her clan numbered about 8. The check was for $25. At least they had to pay for their own parking, which probably exceeded the gift.

The next morning, we walked the streets of pre construction boom Downtown Miami, and found a small breakfast place that was open, on SE First Street, I think. OUr families left, and Wifey and I headed for home, on SW 125 Terrace, the first house we bought as a couple, 3 months before the wedding. The house was about 1200 square feet, and it was our first of several shelters from the storms of life. We loved that house, especially the open beam, Dade County Pine ceilings, which my mother in law's cousin, who I'll call Dobka, since that's her name, thought was unfinished constuction. When we invited her over, beaming with pride at our first home, Dobka looked up and said, in her great Polish, Yidish accent: "Vell you a lawyer. Mebbe someday you make a lot of gelt and buy a house vith finished ceilings..."

Wifey and I left for our honeymoon, in Jamaica. It was high season, and we could only afford to stay 4 nights, as I recall. We had a blast --Dunn's River Falls, getting lost for about an hour in a simple roundabout in Falmouth, while Village kids laughed their heads off at my inability to escape, rafting down the Martha Brae River, being offered spleefs the size of tree trunks.

And, of course, back at the beachside hotel, called Half Moon Bay, where we engaged in the traditional activity of newlywed Jewish couples: fighting over the one novel we brought to read on the beach: Steinbeck's "East of Eden." This became a small tradition for us on future vacations. We fought over Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities" in Wisconsin...

And so, we're still happily married, 25 years later. My parents made it to 39 years, before my Dad checked out. My in laws have passed 60 years, and no one's going anywhere.

My father's only advice to me about a future bride was "marry someone pleasant." He didn't care about religion, or anything else, just amiability. Of course, my Mom, Sunny, lives up to her name in that regard. And Wifey, though many points higher on the IQ scale than my beloved Mom, is usually very pleasant. My father would have approved; he would have loved her.

Dear Uncle Alter died just this past year. He was a truly sweet and generous man. Several years ago, he gave my Ds a $10K gift, which I tried to return -- he wouldn't hear of it. He was a very rich man, but lived absurdly simply: he owned, I think, 2 pairs of pants, and a TV that my in laws had given him in the 70s. Still, he died, according to the Torah, fabulously wealthy -- far more than happy with his lot in life. Looking back, it was an honor to honor this one guest with our fully kosher wedding.

And Wifey and I move on. D1 is due home tonight from Indiana, and we plan to fetch her at MIA and head over to our favorite restuarant, Christy's, for an 8 pm dinner -- for us, that's VERY late. Christy's isn't kosher, but it is delicious.

So happy 25th Wifey. Here's to looking back, on almost all great memories, and looking ahead to, dare I wish, weddings for our Ds? They're both brilliant, beautiful, and (mostly) pleasant young women...