Pesach Cleaning/Rest

This week, I had a math exam on Monday, and an Orgo exam on Tuesday. I felt reasonably prepared for the math exam, but felt like I was rushing through my Orgo studying (the previous test was right after break, so I spent the whole break studying/writing mechanisms). Needless to say, after the Orgo exam was over, I was tired. After four hours of classes on Wednesday and three hours volunteering, I cleaned up my room, which took about an hour. I was amazed at how much I'd let the room "go" this semester. When you don't share a room with someone, it's easy to let piles of papers and clothes accumulate. After doing some homework, my roommate and I spent about 2 hours cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing counters and shelves and sorting through food.

But when we were done, and we sent our form to sell our chametz via email, I felt a lot better. Finally, I could devote my energy to studying for my Biology exam on Friday morning, I thought, and I would be free! But in the excitement of cleaning, I had neglected a nagging headache. It seemed fine until I sat down with my Bio notes. Then, the pain grew, and I thought I could have a migraine. So I rushed to get the aspirin and Pepto-Bismol, and then went to sleep at 10:30 (I had been staying up until about midnight all week). When I got up in the morning, I was fine. I started studying the single-letter abbreviations of the amino acids. I went to classes. Life was back to normal.

As much as I hate getting headaches, especially when they creep up in the middle of lab, I've been trying to use them as a kind of stress barometer. If my head starts to hurt, I need to stop what I'm doing, breathe, and some caffeine and aspirin. Almost all of the time, I can't get rid of the trigger. But I can stop, and try to regain some clarity in order to do what I need to do. Every week, I have a day "off" from work, Shabbos, but sometimes you need those non-Shabbos pauses more than the Shabbos pauses. The middle of the week, that's the hardest time to stop and rest. But even taking the five minutes to brew a cup of tea and concentrate on the tea can be almost as healing as the 25 hours of Shabbos. Hopefully we can all find those five minutes.

My Brother's Christian Wedding

Since my brother is Christian and my sister-in-law is Hindu, they had two wedding ceremonies: the first, Hindu, and the second (which was this past weekend) was Christian. In addition to their religious differences, the weddings differed in size. The Hindu wedding had about 550 guests, and the Christian wedding had about 65 guests.

Basically, the Christian wedding guests were some of our parents' local friends, some of my sister-in-law's immediate family (including her brother's fiance), our grandfather, and our uncle and aunt and cousins from PA (father's side). My sister-in-law's brother was best man, and I was the maid of honor. Since the wedding colors were green and ivory, I wore a long green Grecian-style dress, and my brother and the best man had light green, similarly patterned ties. My mom wore a elegant textured red skirt suit, and my sister-in-law's mother wore a red-pink and gold sari — definitely not typical mother of the groom/bride outfits.

The ceremony itself was simple and straightforward. The wedding party processed into the chapel. First the parents were asked if they were happy with the marriage. After a hymn, three readings (mine was Psalm 139, with a reference to murder edited out), and the minister's reflection, the couple exchanged vows. They didn't do the "for richer or poorer…" vows repeated in American movies. Instead, they were more poetic: "to laugh with you in joy, to grieve with you in sorrow…" My mom wrote the vows as interlocking rings on the wedding pulpit hanging she made, which made for a crisp, straightforward, yet also very profound addition to the stone chapel. After the vows, the minister announced my brother and sister-in-law as married. We sang another hymn before the recessional.

Between the ceremony and the cocktail/lunch reception was the family photo shoot. Since the number of family members at this ceremony was much lower than the Hindu wedding, there were fewer family groups to coordinate. While it was a little annoying to break away from conversing with our guests to be photographed, there are very few occasions in our family for nice photos. In particular, this wedding was the first time our PA cousins and our grandfather were in the same place with us in about 5 years, which is a special occasion in itself. (We see our cousins and our grandfather each about twice a year, but rarely at the same time).

The guests went to the reception, which was held in an event room at the Boston Science Museum, in a yellow school bus, which seemed appropriate for the venue. The wedding party and my grandfather piled into a limo. It was my first time in a limo, and I was expecting it to be very exciting. In fact, I found it uncomfortable to get into and out of the limo, since I had to slide along a very long curved bench in a long dress and heels while it was raining outside. However, arriving at the museum was a lot of fun. There was an elementary school group in the main lobby, and once they saw my sister-in-law in her gown, they started clapping and cheering. We were also admired in the elevator to the reception room. It was a lot like being in a celebrity's entourage, except without the fear of being blasted in gossip magazines.

In addition to the joy of celebrating my brother and sister-in-law's wedding, I had the unexpected gift of the first long, uninterrupted grownup conversation I've had with my PA aunt. We ended up talking about her wedding, which happened when she was my age, and how she and my uncle fell in love on their first date. But we also ended up covering a lot of family history, Catholicism, Judaism, and how her life has taken a path entirely different from what she imagined (but, in the end, in a positive direction). After having little snippets of grownup exchanges on Facebook in the form of wall messages and comments on each other's statuses, it was a joy to learn more about her not just as an aunt, but as a fellow adult. It's peculiar, being in transition from relating to your relatives (and grown-up acquaintances) as being "too old" to relate to, to starting to be able to relate to them not quite as equals, but as people. But it's a good feeling, one I was most aware of on this joyous occasion.

My Brother's Movie Wedding: Part 2: Interlude/Reception

Traditionally, I spend most of Shabbos afternoon fast asleep. By the time we got back to the hotel from lunch, however, there wasn't enough time for a Shabbos nap. After my mom and I de-pinned each other and changed into relaxing clothes, we schmoozed with my mom's sisters and nieces, who had spent the afternoon shopping and watching movies. Before long, we had to get dressed and accessorized again. Luckily, our reception outfits, embellished silk tunics and pants, were very easy to put on. There weren't even any back zippers. Mom's tunic was dark blue and her pants were bright tangerine; my outfit was a bright turquoise. I wore one set of bangles on each wrist, as opposed to one half set. A typical bangle set is 4-5" long, and, as I found out later, makes a lot of noise when you dance.

The cocktail reception and dinner were held in the hotel. Dinner was in the ballroom, and our families were announced (and shown in real-time on a big screen) as we walked up to the head table. Given the number of people, the head table was on a large platform. It was a lot of fun being announced and sitting at the head table, but at the same time the long table was not conducive to conversing with my dinner companions. So, after the couple and the bride's parents began circulating, I left the table to hang out with my cousins. A few minutes into our conversing, an important thing happened. The DJ had made the important shift from slow songs for the couple to dance to (and, of course, be properly documented) to catchy dance songs for the guests. Three of my cousins started to bob their heads and sway in their chairs. You know where this is leading.

We formed a moving, shaking, singing, gesturing quartet in one corner of the dance floor. What struck me was that, despite our significant age range (one generation's worth), we all sang/chanted the words and obviously gestured the lyrics (you know, pointing to your friend for the "you"s and closing your eyes when you point dramatically to yourself for the "I"s) like high school girls at a dance in the gymnasium. Although better dressed, of course. Though it took a lot of persuasion, we eventually got my parents to dance for one song (my brother doesn't believe me, but I'm sure he will once he sees footage).

Sadly, my parents and relatives were sensitive to the DJ speakers, and left early. I almost left early myself (around 11:30), because I was starting to feel tired, but my brother stopped me. I'm glad he did, because I was very happy to be dancing until the lights went up.

I think my brother has had a difficult time accepting that I'm in college, because he made some remark about my being too young to dance the way I was dancing (I couldn't hear it well because of the noise, but I didn't need to know the detail to hear the sentiment). I didn't think I was being particularly wild; the dancing was a lot less inappropriately wild than at many of my high school dances, where the principal's spoken/unspoken rule was "anything that's not indecent exposure will be politely ignored unless, of course, people appear drunk." What the dancing had, though, was joyous energy, which is what wedding dances should always have.

In part that joyous energy comes in the form of things like dancing to "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls and laughing about the reason why it was requested. But it's sustained in the reason for the celebration in the first place, in knowing that after a year of talking about it, my brother and my now-official sister-in-law are now (finally!) married.

My Brother's Wedding: Part 1: Preparation/Ceremony

One year ago, my brother called me to tell me that he had important news, but wouldn't tell me what it was. After a few minutes, I figured it out — he was engaged. The wedding was this weekend, and I've had trouble summarizing it for curious friends because there was so much to talk about.

My father and I arrived in Chicago Friday night. My mom had arrived the day before, along with her sisters and several of her nieces, to see the city. We stayed at the hotel where the reception was held, which was one of those nice hotels with a indoor "courtyard" type of space, with the rooms circling the courtyard. I hadn't brought my French siddur with me, so I looked for the next best thing — a Gideon Bible, and skipped past the lists of suggested passages (many having to do with temptation) to the Psalms. The sun was shining, and all was still, but the day would quickly become filled with excited moving about.

My mom and I, and some of my sister-in-law's friends were helped with our saris. There are three pieces of the post-British Empire sari: the choli (short-sleeve, v-neck midriff blouse), the petticoat (a long drawstring skirt) and a very, very long piece of colorful fabric. which is elaborately folded and draped. For white women who are relatively inexperience with saris, there is an important fourth piece: safety pins, which help keep the folds looking nice. Many Indian women also use safety pins, but not as many as my mom and I did. The pins, and tying my petticoat drawstring to near-Victorian tightness, kept my sari looking put together. My mom had a red-purple sari with wavy gold/purple trim and mine was dark red with gold and green trim. We also had sparkly necklaces and bangles (of course).

My parents, my mom's relatives, several family friends, and I went to the temple in a fancy bus after spending several minutes admiring each other's outfits. At the temple, we had a quick breakfast before moving upstairs. I was trying to figure out how to walk in the sari without tripping over the floor-length hem, when the wedding planner arrived with a headset to arrange the procession of the groomsmen (all in matching tunic/pant/scarf outfits), groom and groom's family. The bridesmaids wore trendy saris (the ones with bra-level cholis and semi-sheer fabric as opposed to the more traditional opaque silk and waist-level cholis) in similar shades of teal to the bride's mother's sari (which was teal and lime green).

The room where the ceremony was held was a cinderblock auditorium. The walls been beautified with extensive white drapes, and a green/white draped with rose petals ran down the center. On each side of the center aisle were rose-orange balls of carnations on metal stands, with green and white drapes hanging between them. The platform on which the ceremony was held had lots of fine white drapes as its backdrop, with strung yellow flowers hanging in front of the drapes. On the platform itself was the sacred fire (in an ornate metal box), a basket of fruit, and several small bowls with yellow and red spices. In the middle was a large chair with red cushions. My parents and I sat on the platform stage right, and the bride's parents sat stage left, with the bride's brother standing behind them. My brother sat in the large chair. One of the bride's uncles, who is an engineer but is also religiously learned, conducted the ceremony.

During the first part of the ceremony, the bride's parents persuade the groom to marry their daughter, and the groom is treated like a king. A dark red turban with beads and embroidery is placed on his head, and spices are spotted on his feet and necklace. As the priest explained that on his wedding, the groom becomes king of the universe, my brother was visibly beaming. My parents and the bride's parents, along with my brother, wore red, white, and green flower garlands. My parents' garlands were made of carnations, and the bride's parents' garlands were made of folded rose petals (the effect was that the folded petals looked like exotic puffy flowers, for lack of a more eloquent description).

Before the bride arrives, escorted by two of her uncles, a semi-sheer orange screen was held up so that my brother would not see her. My parents and I tried to see her, but were just outside the line of sight. The screen was lowered, so that my brother and the bride could see each other. The bride's father then asked, three times, that my brother not transgress the bride in dharma, wealth, and the enjoyment of wealth (for Jewish readers, think about the parallel between the groom's basic obligations here and Jewish husbands' legal obligations to provide for and protect their wives).

My brother placed a wedding necklace over the bride's head. Clarified butter was poured over the sacred fire. After that, my brother put toe rings on the bride (apparently he didn't understand how to adjust them at first, so there was a good laugh about this). The couple took seven steps around the sacred fire, lead by the bride's brother, who held up a lemon on a knife. Traditionally, the bride's brother would lead the bride and groom to their new home, and the knife carried in case of wild animals. The couple exchanged vows, and held hands in a special way (to distinguish this hand-holding from a hand-shake or friendly hand-holding).

After the ceremony, the couple sat in two chairs below the platform to be blessed by the guests, who also sprinkled them with petals. My parents and I stood with them for a while, and also halfway down the aisle. There were about 500 guests to the reception, and 300-400 at the wedding (I'm bad at estimating really large crowds), so this part took a long time. In addition to waiting for our turn to be photographed, we stayed in the auditorium about an hour and a half after the ceremony. By the time we went downstairs for lunch (1:30-ish) we weren't actually that hungry between the general excitement and saving room for dinner.