We had everything planned out perfectly. We met during new student week at the University of Illinois. The first words spoken were “Are you Jewish?” We went from being acquaintances, to friends, to dating, to soul mates over the course of four or so years.
We got engaged after we got our bachelor’s degrees. We both enrolled in grad school. A one-year engagement while we earned our master’s degrees. A perfect plan right? It was a perfect plan except for one thing.
On our wedding day, we awoke in Chicago to find the great snow of ’79, which dropped a whopping 39 inches of snow on our weekend! Roads were closed. Temples were closed. Caterers were closed.
No wedding, right? Wrong! Our rabbi, bless his heart, told us that in Judaism, if a wedding is planned, it must go on no matter what happens. Who were we to question a rabbi? So we got married in my wife, Meryl’s, house with a small group of 25 of our closest relatives instead of 250 of our extended family.
The only accouterments that we couldn’t cancel were from the florist. The living room was filled with flowers and, most of all, a chuppah. The neighbors provided the food from their freezers and my wife’s grandparents’ 51st wedding anniversary cake doubled as our wedding cake.
We had a memorable wedding. Of course, we left the Snow Belt afterwards. Now we don’t worry about snow anymore. Floods, fires, earthquakes, yes. But snow, no way!