Only in Israel would someone show up with five kids at a
wedding without receiving an invitation!
But I was sure it was an oversight. After all, the sister of
the kalla has been a mother's helper in my home for
over two years and the kalla herself has been the
assistant at my children's nursery school all year. I often
saw their mother on the bus or at classes in our
community.
Of course, it was a possibility that in a neighborhood like
ours where everyone knows everybody, some sort of limit has
to be set on how many guests can actually be invited to a
simcha. So I resolved to bring our children only to
the chuppa to participate in the most special part of
the celebration and then head home before the meal began.
We shared a rented van with two other neighbors and on the
way I asked a few questions, like, "Who made the
shidduch?"
"Oh! Naomi did! And the chosson is a really swell guy
from Beit Shemesh! It's so exciting!" my neighbor gushed.
When we arrived at the hall, we were a bit early. There was
the kalla, splendid on her throne, and now was the
moment of truth. I felt awkward approaching to wish her and
her family "mazel tov", just in case they remembered when
they had perhaps crossed off our name from the potential
guest list. My kids had no such compunctions, though, and
skipped off happily to consume some cake they spotted on a
table in the entranceway.
After mulling around a bit, I noticed an elderly woman who
looked familiar. "Hey, isn't that someone's mother that I've
seen at other simchas?" I wondered to myself. I was
just trying to figure out who she was when a friendly,
surprised voice shouted, "Hey, Chaya, what are you doing
here?"
I whirled around and there was Rivka, an old friend I hadn't
seen in years. We used to be neighbors seventeen years ago
when my husband and I first made aliya.
"Rivka!" I shouted, equally delighted to see her. Ah! It was
her elderly mother I'd spotted. Answering her query, I said,
"We know the kalla's side. And which side do you
know?"
Rivka's smile froze on her face.
"What?! Chaya, you're kidding!"
Confused, I said, "Ummm, I'm just asking if you know the
kalla's side or the chosson's."
Rivka jubilantly exclaimed, "Chaya! I am the MOTHER OF THE
CHOSSON!"
Shocked, I screamed, "WHAT?" With quite a few people staring
at this strange episode, I threw my arms around Rivka in a
tremendous hug and shouted, "I can't believe it! Nochum was
just... bar-mitzva-ed!"
"That was ten years ago. Didn't you notice my name on the
invitation?" Rivka asked with an even broader smile.
Sheepishly, I had to admit that I had NOT noticed her name on
any invitation.
Okay, so we hadn't been in the best of contact. But what a
thrill to end up at Rivka's son's wedding! Only in Israel can
you show up uninvited at a wedding and end up knowing both
sides.
I still didn't feel right having all my kids sit down for a
meal, knowing both sides notwithstanding, so after the
chuppa we left the hall, to find a taxi home. One
fellow, in addition to letting us all squish into the cab,
offered us a special price if we would let him stop in Geula
on the way home. He explained that he had to drop off an
important package at a relative's apartment.
"Oh, but that means you have to drive through town instead of
taking the highway straight to our area," I hesitated.
"Lady, at this time of evening, it should be a very short
detour."
I really wanted to get the kids home as early as possible but
the price was right so we all piled in.
When we reached Geula, the cab driver turned up a side
street, parked his vehicle, jumped out and said, "I'll be
right back."
Turning to address my kids in the backseat, I said, "You
should know, a taxi driver in New York would NEVER leave his
car alone with people in it. Only in Israel."
"Yeah," one of my kids added, "and he even left the keys."
"You're kidding!" I turned to stare at the ignition. Yes, he
had left the keys.
"Now that's called trust!"
