Marcia is my cousin--my third cousin--and deny it though she may, she is blood. She and Alvan may claim that they are related through Carol, but blood will tell. Witness Oren. They asked me to be sandek at his bris, thinking that some of the Talmud, tznius, hislahavus, and yiras Shomayim that I picked up at Rabbi Soloveitchik's yeshiva as a young man would rub off on their son. Instead, he became a true Godson of Farklempt, a rock musician, a creator of claymation figures on Celebrity Death Match on MTV.
The story of Oren and Rachel is about as romantic as you can get, and he told it superbly in the pages of the Forwardover the past few months in a column called "The Groom."
Their wedding took place on Sunday afternoon at Temple Mishkan Tefila, in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts. This was the resurrection of the old "Mishkie" that stood on Seaver Street in Roxbury, just around the corner from Marcia's childhood apartment on Elm Hill Avenue.
Before the ceremony, there was a hoson's tish, a "groom's table," where the men (and women, allowed to attend in a politically correct, inclusive, and egalitarian gesture) simultaneously study Torah and roast the groom. And Rachel was attended to by her consort, during the bedeken.
The wedding was conducted by Alvan himself, and, as usual, there wasn't a dry eye in the house, including his.
Frenzied dancing (with Zev Alexander a standout, doing pushups, along with Chuck Cutler, still able to do the kazakske).
Oren really let go, singing and playing the harmonica.
As the time to go approached, Oren and I recreated the moment at which his yetzer ha'ra was created.