E-mail a Friend

You are sending:
The path to the chuppah is not always a piece of cake

Your Email:

Friend's Email:

Note: (optional)

Message: If you are having trouble reading this email, you may view this article online at: http://www.jweekly.com/18316/full/18316/the-path-to-the-chuppah-is-not-always-a-piece-of-cake/ The path to the chuppah is not always a piece of cake Friday, August 16, 2002 | by liz harris So your daughter's getting married? Mazel tov! Six months ago, as a profusion of congratulations came my way, the best I could do was muster a muted "thanks" or force a halfhearted smile. I should have been thrilled, I suppose. Our daughter, Alana, about to graduate from college and embark on an exciting new phase of her life, was going to marry her longtime sweetheart. A level-headed, truly nice guy, who has always treated her with care and respect. They are deeply in love, and have been, it seems, from the very beginning. He proposed on Valentine's Day. When they broke the news to us, my husband and I were not surprised, given their deep commitment to each other. And when they said the wedding would take place next year, that seemed just fine. Plenty of time to plan. Then they changed their minds: The wedding would be at the end of the summer, had to be on a Saturday night and could only take place within a small window of time, before many of their friends went off to grad school or moved away to start new jobs. Consulting the calendar, we quickly realized the High Holy Days significantly reduced available weekends to just two or three. We also knew that the optimal locations, as well as many caterers, photographers, etc., were already booked. We were off and running, scrambling to make plans. Scouting locations came first. And that's when the emotional roller-coaster ride began. Quickly falling off the highs of the engagement news, the four of us came crashing down, experiencing wildly fluctuating emotions. They wanted to plan everything. We were to pay the bill. They'd propose a setting; we'd find it too expensive. I'd suggest a place; she wouldn't like it. We'd discover the perfect setting; it would be taken. The first month, we got nowhere. Alana was getting snappy, and I sensed a mounting hysteria. I was losing sleep. Her fiancé was trying to stay low-key. My husband, meanwhile, was swamped at work and kept pretty much out of the loop -- save for my rants after frustrating talks with my daughter and my alarming budget updates. As I released steam with friends (who were always sympathetic and supportive), I felt my relationship with Alana had regressed. From my perspective, the headstrong, unreasonable teenager of 16 was back. What had happened to our mature 22-year-old? I felt bad. Aren't weddings supposed to be joyous occasions? Shouldn't we all have been floating on air? When friends and relatives extended hearty congratulations, shouldn't I have responded with honest, enthusiastic excitement? What was wrong with us? In retrospect, not much I guess. It is normal to experience some trauma while planning a marriage, according to psychologist Joel Crohn, the author of several how-to books on relationships, who counsels individuals and families in his San Rafael and Berkeley offices. His latest book is "Beyond the Chuppah: A Jewish Guide to Happy Marriages" (John Wiley and Sons). The "process of getting married," according to Crohn, is rife with difficulties, as many issues collide during a concentrated period of time. This presents "a great opportunity" for principals to come together and resolve troublesome issues -- or not. Crohn relates a true Jewish wedding story that takes the cake: As the bride is walking down the aisle, her father leans toward her and whispers (loud enough for others to hear): "It's not too late to change your mind." Planning a wedding, with all its corresponding and potentially conflicting issues, is the perfect time to set a "model contract for the future," says Crohn. In his book "Mixed Matches," about interracial, interethnic and interfaith relationships, Crohn pays special attention to the prenuptial period. "When couples treat the state of being engaged as a time-limited, intensified period to deal with their differences, they build better marital contracts and create stronger relationships...As such, the state of being engaged presents one of life's best opportunities to work through differences. It provides a socially sanctioned status of in-betweenness. "But couples often fail to make use of the opportunity because romantic expectations attached to the state of being engaged and getting married make acknowledging and dealing with differences difficult as the wedding date approaches." Parallels can be made to differences between the engaged couple and the bride-to-be's parents. Resolution cannot be put off indefinitely. "One of the things that burdens the wedding," Crohn says, "is there's this expectation that this is supposed to be so happy, so wonderful, and in reality, it's so fraught with ambivalence. How do people manage that and deal with it?" Regression does take place, "but in the service of independence. That's the paradox. That's the dance that's played out." This push-pull dynamic between parent and child comes into play less frequently than in the past. These days, Jewish couples are more likely to marry after living independently and establishing careers, says Crohn. They are self-supporting, often planning and paying for the wedding themselves. "Jews marry the latest of any group, and they marry the least." There's been a generational shift, he notes. "Most of the Jews who are getting married are not getting married at 22, so they expect more control and autonomy in planning the wedding. A lot of them are 35." Crohn suggests that in my case, while our daughter "may expect more autonomy, she may want something that she hasn't earned yet. She wants the best of both worlds": Control over the details but not the bills. Crohn believes marriage preparation "is a serious issue" that should receive more attention from the Jewish communal establishment. Solid groundwork and preparation creates a solid marriage, he believes, noting that "the Jewish divorce rate is up to the national level." In the Bay Area, Crohn has led workshops and given talks to rabbis as well as to a consortium of synagogues "on marriage issues and taking preparation more seriously." As for my daughter's wedding, we're all getting pretty excited. That monster disappeared a while ago. In early April, my husband and I called a summit. We asked them to meet for dinner at a restaurant midway between our home and their respective residences in Davis. We would bring what we felt was a reasonable wedding budget and instructed them to do the same. Copies were distributed, reviewed and discussed at the table. We presented our case that our budget was generous, enough to pay for a lovely wedding for all. They agreed to stay within our cap, or pay for any excesses. The meeting was relatively businesslike, with the exception of a few teary flare-ups by Alana and obstinate moments of my own. My husband, an attorney, exercised his negotiating skills flawlessly. Though we were all a little raw at the end of the session, I think we were also relieved and anxious to move ahead. Since then, my daughter and I have consulted often, sometimes daily. Our conversations are pleasant, and we know where not to tread. She landed a very good job, and started work full-time in May, while her fiancé continues his work toward his Ph.D. They are handling nearly every detail of their Aug. 31 wedding, but they check in with us nearly every step of the way. And when people ask how I'm coping with all there is to do as the wedding approaches, I answer honestly: "Great. No problem. They're doing all the work." All we have to do is show up and have a good time.

Please enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below:

E-mail a Friend

Subscribe to: