The following is being presented as a public service. It
is a true story with necessary details changed and its
message overstated, that is, the contrast exaggerated, to get
the point across. Read it, and make sure you get to the bottom line.
"You look beautiful in this black suit, Leah," gushed Mrs.
Friedman.
Leah was engaged to be married in another two months and the
preparations for the big day were full of excitement. Mother
and daughter were now at the seamstress who had sewn this
suit especially for Shabbos morning of sheva brochos.
Much thought had gone into the design of this outfit.
Measuring and fittings were taken seriously in the Friedman
houshold. Now, finally, the suit was finished.
"Mommy, do you think the collar is O.K.?" Leah asked. Leah
was a good girl who trusted her mother in all aspects of
life. They had very similar tastes, which made for harmonious
shopping together. Leah knew that her mother's judgement could
be relied on for everything.
"Yes, dear. The collar is fine and so is the rest of the
outfit. It's very elegant, yet refined and modest, the right
measure of tzniyus required of us."
Mother and daughter enjoyed these rushed moments of shopping
together. Relishing their special time together, they headed
for the next stop on the list.
The Furniture Store. The Friedmans had been to many furniture
places before they had found exactly what they were looking
for. They had finally settled on a certain shade of brown
that appealed to both of their tastes. Mother and daughter
agreed that an old fashioned proper wardrobe with two doors
on the outside, shelves and drawers inside, was a convenient
piece to add on to the standard beds, nighttables and vanity
set.
Mrs. Friedman went through the bother of ordering a very
specific kind of nighttable, one which would be able to be
used as a breakfast tray as well. Not all stores were willing
to go along with that requirement, but they had finally found
this accommodating place.
Next: to check up on the progress of the curtains they had
ordered for the big dining room windows. Then down the main
street into a side street and up to the first floor. They
went to pick up the drapes.
"A wedding is once in a lifetime, Leah. I want you to be
properly prepared. All this running around with you is
because I love you and I want to know I've given you the
best."
Leah listened attentively as her mother explained. "A
pleasing apartment is one of the things conducive to a good
marriage."
By now, both of them were loaded down with assorted packages
containing various carefully chosen items. Aside from the
regular linens and towels, Mrs. Friedman surprised her
daughter with an extra set, monogrammed. As it was getting
awkward to handle all these bundles, they decided to go to
just one more place before returning home with the treasures
of this day's shopping.
"I'd rather go to the gown place," Leah suggested. "The
houseware store will be open after the wedding, too, if I
don't manage to finish getting everything before. And we must
take the gifts into consideration, as well. But the gown must
be ready on time!"
"Right. Besides, this will give me some time to sit while you
try on the gown and headpiece. O.K. Let's go."
Leah came out of the dressing room looking regal in her one-
of-a-kind, beaded for-hours-on-end masterpiece. Sequins and
rhinestones combined to bring out the exquisite pattern of
the imported white silk.
The days flew by and all proceeded as planned with four weeks
to go. Mrs. Friedman was congratulating herself for her
superb organizational skills and couldn't understand why her
friends were always so busy the last weeks before their
daughters' weddings. She sat down on the couch for a rare
leisurely moment and reached for her checklist. Tomorrow was
the date she had set for Kalla classes to begin. She'd have
to decide on a teacher.
"Hello, this is Miriam Friedman. Yes, how are you? Thank
you!... That's what I'm calling about... Who?... Oh,
really?... How long in advance do you have to set an
appointment?... Three months? Oh, my! I didn't realize. Our
wedding is in exactly three weeks and six days!... Well, I'll
just have to try someone else..."
"Hello, this is Miriam Friedman. I got your number from a
friend of mine... In three weeks and six days... I should've
called as soon as they were engaged? Couldn't you fit her in
somehow?... Impossible? Well, could you recommend someone
else?..."
Mrs. Friedman hung up the phone with a sinking feeling in the
pit of her stomach that things were not going according to
her list and time schedule. Late that night, at her wits end,
she found out about a woman down the block who had just
finished a training course and was ready to start teaching.
She really had no choice at this point.
*
Mrs. Friedman walked Leah to the door. The door which closed
between mother and daughter would never swing on its hinges
in quite the same way again. The front door which was so
lovingly associated with warmth and closeness had closed upon
an era in the Friedman household, for this door would come to
symbolize independence and estrangement. Little did she
realize that when she walked her daughter down the aisle to
the chupa, she would be a near stranger to her darling
daughter.
Miriam closed the door and went into the kitchen. She opened
the refrigerator door and shut it without taking anything.
Then she did it again. She was nervous. Very nervous.
Leah came home three hours later. "Hi, everybody. I'm back,"
she yelled and headed for the back porch. She stood gazing
out into the dark, trying to get a hold of herself. She would
have loved to talk to her mother, to discuss what she had
learned, but...
Mrs. Friedman felt an urge to go and kiss Leah reassuringly.
Love welled up inside her for this daughter who had reached
such an important milestone in life. Now Leah would become a
link in Jewish continuity; now she would pass on to the next
generation the precious heritage that had been handed down
all the way back from Sora Imeinu. But one does not cuddle a
kalla like you did sixteen years ago. Mrs. Friedman
tiptoed to the porch.
"Here, Leah, have a drink." She settled herself on a rocking
chair and waited for Leah to begin. Ten minutes passed in
silence and Mrs. Friedman decided that the ball was in her
court.
"How did it go? Did you like the teacher?"
"Fine," Leah answered abruptly.
This was not like anything Mrs. Friedman was used to from her
daughter, to whom she felt very close. She tried again. "Is
there anything you'd like to ask? To review with me,
perhaps?"
"No, thanks."
Mrs. Friedman looked at her daughter strangely and got up.
She went back into the kitchen. She sighed. She had had a
premonition that things wouldn't be the same after Leah came
back from classes. This was the first of many similar scenes.
Each time Leah came home from classes, there was a tangible
tension in the air, a definite estrangement, but not a word
on Leah's part. Finally, Mrs. Friedman insisted on an
emergency meeting on the living room couch.
"Leah, we've been close all these years. You've been a
wonderful daughter and even a wonderful friend, whom I can
confide in. Now that you're getting married, don't you think
it might be a good idea to discuss your feelings with me? You
must be thinking about your new role and may have some
questions to ask. Why do you refuse to talk to me? Did I hurt
you in any way?"
Leah looked at her mother in honest bewilderment. Didn't she
know? Hadn't she been taught the first rule in her
kalla class?
"But, Mommy, my teacher told us again and again, never to
discuss anything with our mothers. Not before or after
the marriage."
Mrs. Friedman was dumbstruck. It wasn't so much the statement
as the innocence with which the words were uttered. Leah
truly believed that this was the way it was and must always
be. She felt the same sinking feeling as once before.
Too late. She couldn't change things now, not with this new
`rule' standing between them. And who knows what other ideas
had been planted in her daughter's head. She had no way of
finding out when discussion was forbidden.
After tossing and turning in bed that night, Mrs. Friedman
came to a conclusion:
"I'll write about it! I'll let other mothers know. I'll tell
them to check extra carefully before entrusting their
daughter's future into anyone's hand."
And so here I am, begging you: Find out. Check up this
important issue. Make sure your daughter's instruction has
top priority. And when you walk your daughter down the red
carpet, make sure that she is still your daughter, and that
the lines of communication are still, and will always be,
open between you, and this precious link in the long chain of
Jewish history is linked to you, that she respects your
traditions, the mesora of Klal Yisroel that
you, as her mother, represents.
