Yingele...

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

The Royal Engagement











He always used to go on about what a special boy his son in law will have to be. He kept telling me that, after he already tasted the sweet flavor of such special boys for his daughters, the next would most definitely need to be as good as them, in the least. A boy, who when learning, would delve into the gemoro uncontrollably and enthusiastic. He would write al his illustrious chiddushim down and keep on learning with great hasmada. A boy who would rip through all heavens with his pure prayer, a boy that would be loved by men and God alike – loved for his kindness, mentshlichkait and middos toives.

Mazal Tov! Men gait shoin brechen teller. Finally, finally, he found the boy that he was so desperately looking for. An eighteen year old rebbishe ainikle. Everyone was all excited and looking forward. So the next day I helped them all prepare the tnoyim – shlepped plates from one place to the other and bought some wine and liqueur. Loaded it all onto the minivan and off we went. I was so tired and exhausted, I just felt like dropping. (Okay, okay, I won’t exaggerate…)

So we got to the royal engagement. The hall was really nicely decorated, with a massive Kol Rino Veyishuo banner behind the unworldly long head table. The Kol Hoalom Kulo photographers where there already, equipped with all the paparazzi gadgets. The Kalla’s father was there, the hall was just half full. I was all excited, waiting to see the Chosson. After hearing so much about him, his character, spirituality and holiness, I couldn’t wait to finally meet his Royal Highness.

Everyone gets up; finally the choson, surrounded by his family, enters the hall. Oh my God! No, it can’t be. Your average chassidishe bochurel, the turn-and-twist-and-curl-his-payes-nonstop, gartel-around-his-tuches boy… That’s the chosson?! I know him, well, just by face. He isn’t on the Bums 50 list, but he isn’t exactly the angel I expected. Just an average, nice sweet chap. Nothing major.

Maybe the guy got some massive yichus? Well, apparently, his father is some corner rebbe in Netanya. You know? The kind of guy that used an atlas to create his rebbishe name… I looked up at the head table; all the glitter silk beketches, all the rebbe’s where from the kalla’s side. All where family, and friends of the kalla’s father and grandfather. So I was patient, and waited. Maybe some big rebbe might still walk thru the door? Nope, no one came. The boy didn’t have any special yichus…

So what does he have? Oh, I forgot. He has al lot of bling bling. You know; the kind that gets you everywhere… Money brings you everywhere and gets you anything. So now all is understood. The rebbe’s, the yichus, the gorgeous girl… It all came with a pricetag.

Or, maybe, just maybe. Perhaps, when a shidduch is supposed to be, it will be. No matter who what and when, no matter how and why – if that yingele is supposed to get that maidele, nothing in the world can stop it.

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