Riffi (my little brother) got married yesterday. All the usual jokes and stereotypes aside, there’s something about watching your little brother – your only brother – get married, which I can’t really put into words. Watching Rav. Aharon Feldman (Rosh Yeshiva, Ner Yisroel), put ashes on his forehead before the chupah aged him about 5 years in my eyes in about 5 seconds. I guess that’s what makes younger sibling life events such a shock – you’re forced to update your mental image of them in a very short period of time.

Pretty much the entire upper echelon of the Baltimore rabbinic scene was there, which is a polite way of pointing out that me and my kippah sruga were in a severe minority. A couple of random things:

• An outdoor chupah in Baltimore in February – what could go wrong? The weather warmed up to a balmy 35 degrees by chupah time. They managed to have the seating done inside, with the chupah outside, and the guests watched through the glass wall. They also propped open a door so they could hear. It actually wasn’t bad. I decided I wasn’t going to watch my own brother’s wedding through glass though, so I stood outside with a bunch of his friends who had the same feeling. The cold wasn’t so bad, but the wind was. Right around then I really wished I was wearing a hat. All the other people outside had these very stylish fedoras – if only I had thought to get one too.
• I was more impressed with this wedding photographer than any other wedding photographer ever. He was polite, he didn’t bark at people, and he managed to get good photographs of the dancing without getting in the way of the guests. He had ladders, but they were all placed far enough away from the dancing so as to be completely unobtrusive. (Also, he placed them near walls – smart move). For formal photographs he gave good instructions, stayed on focus, and didn’t get angry when the subjects (meaning the bride, groom, and their families) wanted to do things like talk to each other. His assistant got little children to smile at him, and rather than yelling out nameless orders (“uncle, uncle, turn outward! No! other way!”), he learned people’s names, and used them to talk politely and instruct effectively. He also left enough time to get all the photos in so we weren’t scrambling at the end or starting the wedding late for him. In other words – he acted like a decent human being. How sad that this is cause for notice in his profession.
• No matter how hard I try, there is no way still photography can capture the frenetic energy, the simultaneous chaos and order, that is Jewish simcha dancing at a frum wedding. I’ve tried many many times, and failed an equal number of times. That’s why I brought my camcorder this time.
• Camcorders, unlike still cameras, are too small to tuck into your pocket while dancing or dong something else.



• My cousin has a child one month older than Aliza. Last Thanksgiving we tried to get a picture of the two of them, but Logan (her son) cried through the whole thing. We tried again after the wedding. I put Aliza down on the floor and smiled at her. Joey put Logan down and he promptly burst into tears.
• We had the photographer take one big giant family picture with all of us. I had a friend video tape the process of all of us getting into position for the photo. The first picture is finally taken at 4:15 into the clip. We are not a fast group. (My aunt once said that getting the Elias clan anywhere is like herding cats with ADD. Add in the Bachrachs and it’s even worse).

This entry was posted on Monday, February 23rd, 2009 at 9:27 pm by Ari and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.