Impressions from a Simcha Weekend
Title
Impressions from a Simcha Weekend
Identifier
IMPRESSIONS_FROM_A_SIMCHA_WEEKEND
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"A couple days ago, I wrote about a few invitations that we received, and my decision to attend every invitation, as long as I am able."
Date
2015-04-20
Coverage
2015
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Text
IMPRESSIONS FROM A SIMCHA WEEKEND
A couple days ago, I wrote about a few invitations that we received, and my decision to attend every invitation, as long as I am able. Having just returned from two of them, I hereby share my impressions.
I. The first invitation was to the wedding of Bob and Rose Epstein’s granddaughter, Rachel, to Adam Jacob Cooperstock, postmarked February 11. It was to take place on Long Island: the ceremony and the festivities that followed, at Temple Beth Torah in Melville, and the gathering place, and brunch the following morning, at the Hilton Garden Inn Melville, in Plainview. The engraved invitation (gold on ivory) requesting “the honour of our presence” was from Rachel and Adam “together with their families” and ended with the note “black tie invited.”
Times have changed. It is no longer the parents inviting us to the marriage of their children. Cool. I was overjoyed to have been invited. Our only connection was as friends of the bride’s grandparents. The kids could have limited the invitations to their immediate family and close friends. I am aware that there are a great many tensions surrounding invitations—who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Seems like at this wedding, the sky was the limit. I heard that there were 320 people invited. That is a lot of people.
Another example of how times have changed: Included in the invitation was a card that read, “Please visit our website for more information! www.the knot.com/wedding etc.” Of course I visited the website, and learned everything I would ever want to know about the bride and groom, including, how we met. our proposal, ceremony and reception, our registries, and honeymoon. There was also a guest book with the first message dated June 2014, from the knot team. Clearly, this wedding was not an amateur affair, and was not put together at the last minute.
On Saturday, the eighteenth of April, Fran and I got up, showered (separately), I shaved, we packed, had breakfast, and left at 11AM for the drive to Long Island. I thought it would take 4 ½ hours. It took over 6 hours. Very heavy traffic. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and it seemed the entire population of Massachusetts, Connecticut and New York decided to go for a drive. We checked into the hotel, after 5. We found our friends Ruth and Barbara, changed for the wedding, and I was told that a van to the Temple was leaving at 6:30 PM. Fran was unable to get ready by 6:30. I talked to the van driver who said he would be back and make another run. He did not. I was given directions to the Temple, I programmed our GPS, and we drove. I was astounded to learn that there were two other wedding parties leaving from the hotel at the same time going to different Temples. Seems Jewish weddings are big business in Long Island.
The Temple was right off the Long Island Expressway. We drove to the entrance. There was valet parking. We entered the Temple and were caught up in a large crowd heading into the Sanctuary. We had missed the champagne and the schmoozing, but we came just in time for the main event. We found Barbara and Ruth, and as we looked around, we realized that we knew hardly anyone. There was a beautiful chupah before the Ark, two professional photographers, a center aisle strewn with rose petals, and a lot of well dressed people. Several men had observed the invitation to wear black ties.
Music was playing, and the first down the aisle were two women with tallesim and robes: the Rabbi and the Khazanit. Then followed grandparents (including Bob and Rose who looked spectacular in tuxedo and gown) and the parents of the bride and groom, and the bridesmaids and the groomsmen, and finally, the groom, and the bride in a beautiful gown and veil. The Rabbi and Khazanit wore microphones, so we heard the words and music very clearly. The bride circled the groom three times; the groom circled the bride three times, and they then circled each other. The Rabbi gave them blessings, the Khazanit, who had a lovely operatic voice sang more blessings, the Rabbi talked to the couple about how compatible and in love they are. The Rabbi had them exchange rings and vows, and then pronounced them husband and wife, according to the laws of Moses and Israel.
The newly married couple ran down the aisle, followed by everybody else. We followed the crowd and found ourselves in a large room, with a large bar, with lots of small tables, and in a half dozen corners were servers with all kinds of exotic foods. Fran thought it was going to be the dinner. Not at all! This was the hors d’oeuvres, or “forshspeys.” People were lining up for drinks and eats. Servers and bartenders were serving and pouring, non-stop. People were eating and drinking, non-stop. Finally, it was announced that dinner was being served, and we followed the crowd to another large room with a bandstand, a dance floor and a lot of beautifully decorated tables set with beautiful china, silver and glasses, with enormous floral centerpieces. I was puzzled, wondering if this is a catering establishment or a Temple.
As I feared, the band started playing, and it was LOUD. We were at a table that was furthest away from the bandstand, but it did not help. I did find an exit which led to a fire escape; still, the sound penetrated. There were brief moments of quiet, but very brief, when someone was speaking. We could then hear one another, but it was not polite to talk when the parents are addressing their children on this sacred occasion. We did a lot of smiling and nodding. The food was served; we ate. Wine was served; we drank. There was a bar at the back of the hall; we drank some more, but the bartender had trouble hearing as the band played on. Lots of young people on the dance floor, as it should be. I ventured on the dance floor when they played a slow tune.
I should note that although I knew very few people, there were some very special people I was overjoyed to see and be with. I love Bob and Rose’s kids, and it was Larry’s daughter who was getting married, and his other daughter Dana was the maid of honor. Miriam came in from California. Her daughter, Quintessa, who is now living in New York was there, along with Vivian, her husband, Howard, and their daughter Hope.
It had been announced that the van would return to the hotel at 1 AM. At 12:30, several of us were ready to leave. Near the exit, were several members of the catering staff with a display of fruit dipped in chocolate for guests to take back. We took our departing gift, I retrieved my car from the valet, and Fran, Ruth Barbara and I drove back to the hotel, sated and exhausted. I also have another yarmulke to add to my collection. I am sorry to report that my attempt to record the event photographically was unsuccessful. I had trouble with my camera, and only a few pictures came out. I am sure the professionals came through, and no doubt the newlyweds will eventually share pictures with family and friends. Brunch the next day was fun. We were able to talk to one another without shouting. Then Fran and I had to leave for the next Simcha.
II. Around April 6 or 7, we received an invitation to a 90th birthday celebration for Arthur Bernstein, to take place at an Italian restaurant, Toscana, in Peabody MA, on April 19, at 4 PM. The invitation was from his daughter. It was written on a “You’re Invited” card, requesting an RSVP by April 12. We RSVP’d, explaining that we will be coming from a wedding in Long Island, so we might be late. Again, I was pleased to have been invited, not being a relative or an old friend. Fran has known Arthur all her adult life. She was close to his brother Julie, with whom I worked at the JLC, and to Julie’s son Stanley, who was two years behind her at Brandeis. Over the years in Boston, I saw a lot of Arthur, at Workmen’s Circle functions, and serving on the Julius Bernstein Memorial Foundation, which Arthur headed.
We left the wedding brunch at 12, spending the last half hour saying goodbye, hugging and kissing Barbara and Ruth, and every Epstein (and one Cooperstock). We programmed the GPS for Peabody, and prayed that the traffic would be smooth. Our prayers were answered. The trip, which took 6 hours the day before, took 4 ½ hours as I had hoped.
We were greeted by Arthur’s daughters and his wife Evie, and were pleased that we were not the last to arrive. My guess is that there were about 80 or 90 guests. As I had previously observed, Arthur was a seaman, and prided himself on being tough and profane. Sunday evening, it struck me that he is no longer saying that he has the world by the balls. His grip is weakening. He is becoming frail. He let me give him a hug; he is using a cane; he let his daughters run the show, and he acquiesced to their request that he write out his remarks, instead of ad libbing.
I knew a few more people at this event. Tables were not assigned. Food was served family style with lots or red sauce—ravioli, fish, chicken; mixed vegetables, and salad. There was an open bar. This time I had a beer. There was a lot of conversation, and everyone heard everything. Arthur’s nephew Stan and his wife, Jane, came up from Atlanta. Neither is well, but this was a special occasion.
It was getting dark when we left, but I was no longer in a hurry. It took us less than an hour to get home. Round trip: 470 miles. Fran commented that it was a surreal weekend. Two simchas in two different states, in less than 36 hours.
4-20-15
A couple days ago, I wrote about a few invitations that we received, and my decision to attend every invitation, as long as I am able. Having just returned from two of them, I hereby share my impressions.
I. The first invitation was to the wedding of Bob and Rose Epstein’s granddaughter, Rachel, to Adam Jacob Cooperstock, postmarked February 11. It was to take place on Long Island: the ceremony and the festivities that followed, at Temple Beth Torah in Melville, and the gathering place, and brunch the following morning, at the Hilton Garden Inn Melville, in Plainview. The engraved invitation (gold on ivory) requesting “the honour of our presence” was from Rachel and Adam “together with their families” and ended with the note “black tie invited.”
Times have changed. It is no longer the parents inviting us to the marriage of their children. Cool. I was overjoyed to have been invited. Our only connection was as friends of the bride’s grandparents. The kids could have limited the invitations to their immediate family and close friends. I am aware that there are a great many tensions surrounding invitations—who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Seems like at this wedding, the sky was the limit. I heard that there were 320 people invited. That is a lot of people.
Another example of how times have changed: Included in the invitation was a card that read, “Please visit our website for more information! www.the knot.com/wedding etc.” Of course I visited the website, and learned everything I would ever want to know about the bride and groom, including, how we met. our proposal, ceremony and reception, our registries, and honeymoon. There was also a guest book with the first message dated June 2014, from the knot team. Clearly, this wedding was not an amateur affair, and was not put together at the last minute.
On Saturday, the eighteenth of April, Fran and I got up, showered (separately), I shaved, we packed, had breakfast, and left at 11AM for the drive to Long Island. I thought it would take 4 ½ hours. It took over 6 hours. Very heavy traffic. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and it seemed the entire population of Massachusetts, Connecticut and New York decided to go for a drive. We checked into the hotel, after 5. We found our friends Ruth and Barbara, changed for the wedding, and I was told that a van to the Temple was leaving at 6:30 PM. Fran was unable to get ready by 6:30. I talked to the van driver who said he would be back and make another run. He did not. I was given directions to the Temple, I programmed our GPS, and we drove. I was astounded to learn that there were two other wedding parties leaving from the hotel at the same time going to different Temples. Seems Jewish weddings are big business in Long Island.
The Temple was right off the Long Island Expressway. We drove to the entrance. There was valet parking. We entered the Temple and were caught up in a large crowd heading into the Sanctuary. We had missed the champagne and the schmoozing, but we came just in time for the main event. We found Barbara and Ruth, and as we looked around, we realized that we knew hardly anyone. There was a beautiful chupah before the Ark, two professional photographers, a center aisle strewn with rose petals, and a lot of well dressed people. Several men had observed the invitation to wear black ties.
Music was playing, and the first down the aisle were two women with tallesim and robes: the Rabbi and the Khazanit. Then followed grandparents (including Bob and Rose who looked spectacular in tuxedo and gown) and the parents of the bride and groom, and the bridesmaids and the groomsmen, and finally, the groom, and the bride in a beautiful gown and veil. The Rabbi and Khazanit wore microphones, so we heard the words and music very clearly. The bride circled the groom three times; the groom circled the bride three times, and they then circled each other. The Rabbi gave them blessings, the Khazanit, who had a lovely operatic voice sang more blessings, the Rabbi talked to the couple about how compatible and in love they are. The Rabbi had them exchange rings and vows, and then pronounced them husband and wife, according to the laws of Moses and Israel.
The newly married couple ran down the aisle, followed by everybody else. We followed the crowd and found ourselves in a large room, with a large bar, with lots of small tables, and in a half dozen corners were servers with all kinds of exotic foods. Fran thought it was going to be the dinner. Not at all! This was the hors d’oeuvres, or “forshspeys.” People were lining up for drinks and eats. Servers and bartenders were serving and pouring, non-stop. People were eating and drinking, non-stop. Finally, it was announced that dinner was being served, and we followed the crowd to another large room with a bandstand, a dance floor and a lot of beautifully decorated tables set with beautiful china, silver and glasses, with enormous floral centerpieces. I was puzzled, wondering if this is a catering establishment or a Temple.
As I feared, the band started playing, and it was LOUD. We were at a table that was furthest away from the bandstand, but it did not help. I did find an exit which led to a fire escape; still, the sound penetrated. There were brief moments of quiet, but very brief, when someone was speaking. We could then hear one another, but it was not polite to talk when the parents are addressing their children on this sacred occasion. We did a lot of smiling and nodding. The food was served; we ate. Wine was served; we drank. There was a bar at the back of the hall; we drank some more, but the bartender had trouble hearing as the band played on. Lots of young people on the dance floor, as it should be. I ventured on the dance floor when they played a slow tune.
I should note that although I knew very few people, there were some very special people I was overjoyed to see and be with. I love Bob and Rose’s kids, and it was Larry’s daughter who was getting married, and his other daughter Dana was the maid of honor. Miriam came in from California. Her daughter, Quintessa, who is now living in New York was there, along with Vivian, her husband, Howard, and their daughter Hope.
It had been announced that the van would return to the hotel at 1 AM. At 12:30, several of us were ready to leave. Near the exit, were several members of the catering staff with a display of fruit dipped in chocolate for guests to take back. We took our departing gift, I retrieved my car from the valet, and Fran, Ruth Barbara and I drove back to the hotel, sated and exhausted. I also have another yarmulke to add to my collection. I am sorry to report that my attempt to record the event photographically was unsuccessful. I had trouble with my camera, and only a few pictures came out. I am sure the professionals came through, and no doubt the newlyweds will eventually share pictures with family and friends. Brunch the next day was fun. We were able to talk to one another without shouting. Then Fran and I had to leave for the next Simcha.
II. Around April 6 or 7, we received an invitation to a 90th birthday celebration for Arthur Bernstein, to take place at an Italian restaurant, Toscana, in Peabody MA, on April 19, at 4 PM. The invitation was from his daughter. It was written on a “You’re Invited” card, requesting an RSVP by April 12. We RSVP’d, explaining that we will be coming from a wedding in Long Island, so we might be late. Again, I was pleased to have been invited, not being a relative or an old friend. Fran has known Arthur all her adult life. She was close to his brother Julie, with whom I worked at the JLC, and to Julie’s son Stanley, who was two years behind her at Brandeis. Over the years in Boston, I saw a lot of Arthur, at Workmen’s Circle functions, and serving on the Julius Bernstein Memorial Foundation, which Arthur headed.
We left the wedding brunch at 12, spending the last half hour saying goodbye, hugging and kissing Barbara and Ruth, and every Epstein (and one Cooperstock). We programmed the GPS for Peabody, and prayed that the traffic would be smooth. Our prayers were answered. The trip, which took 6 hours the day before, took 4 ½ hours as I had hoped.
We were greeted by Arthur’s daughters and his wife Evie, and were pleased that we were not the last to arrive. My guess is that there were about 80 or 90 guests. As I had previously observed, Arthur was a seaman, and prided himself on being tough and profane. Sunday evening, it struck me that he is no longer saying that he has the world by the balls. His grip is weakening. He is becoming frail. He let me give him a hug; he is using a cane; he let his daughters run the show, and he acquiesced to their request that he write out his remarks, instead of ad libbing.
I knew a few more people at this event. Tables were not assigned. Food was served family style with lots or red sauce—ravioli, fish, chicken; mixed vegetables, and salad. There was an open bar. This time I had a beer. There was a lot of conversation, and everyone heard everything. Arthur’s nephew Stan and his wife, Jane, came up from Atlanta. Neither is well, but this was a special occasion.
It was getting dark when we left, but I was no longer in a hurry. It took us less than an hour to get home. Round trip: 470 miles. Fran commented that it was a surreal weekend. Two simchas in two different states, in less than 36 hours.
4-20-15
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application/msword
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Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “Impressions from a Simcha Weekend,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 22, 2025, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/352.