On to I-95

Got to Cambridge in the predicted time, now where the hell is Harvard Square? You'd think such a prominent feature would be more obviously locatable. Perhaps if Massachusettes bothered to label the streets, my Google Maps directions wouldn't have turned into usless text so quickly.
It's okay, I still have plenty of time, and now I get to see a little of the town too.
Alright, it's now 4:45 and I still don't feel any closer to finding it. I try to call the Charles Hotel where the wedding is, and can't navigate my way to a human. More turns and backtracking. This will teach me to not bring my GPS nor a local map.
It's 5:00. I'm officially late. I detest being late. Then suddenly my course re-aligns with the printed directions, and in another 5 minutes, I'm there. Cruise into the hotel garage, leave the car, and try to find the ballroom, or wherever this thing is.
Following the signs at the lobby level, I head out to cross the courtyard to the main part of the hotel, and look over there, a bunch of dressed up people sitting in the courtyard for a function. In not too many seconds, I realize that this is my destination. I quickly feign an air of nonchalance, and as stealthily as possible navigate around the back of the crowd and over to the front left side where I see Jerry and Mary, watching me the whole time.

There aren't any open seats over by the only people I know, so I go back to the right side, and sit up in the second row. This would turn out to be fortuitous.
Truck arrived at the chupah (canopy) at the front of the aisle.


They proceded back up the aisle, where the Rabbi started the service by having us close our eyes and appreciate the gloriousness of this day. I closed my eyes, yet could still feel the gentle heat of the afternoon sun, and the cool dry breeze that embraced me like an old friend, and the faint smell of. . . . steak? Oh yeah! I definitely smelled steak! What could be more perfect!
The Rabbi continued. They did the part with the kiddush cup, the kettubah (marriage contract), the rings, and the seven blessings (Sheva Brachot).
Truck's parents read the first blessing.

Deb's parents read the second.

Deb's friend Abagail (?) read the third, blessing, and even choked up a bit. It was very moving, and would prove to be a tough act to follow. Hey, is that John Cleese?


Love has already blessed your union. It blessed you when a new kind of matchmaker cast a new kind of net, virtually ensuring that love was soon to blossom. It blessed you when you first met on the streets of a city where love weaves and bobs like a nimble boxer. It blessed you from coast to coast, from dwelling to dwelling, and from job to job.
Individually, you were both blessed with so much intellect, charm, humor, and passion, that love had no choice but to hang on to both of you for dear life and enjoy the ride.
As for today and beyond…….
May the beat of your hearts pound like a line of drummers in perfect unison.
May your future parenthood be planned.
May your offspring enjoy the subtle nuances of pop culture.
May your family grow from a charcoal sketch to a full canvas color painting.
Bless you both…..
Other people did the other blessings. There was a Connors sister and some others that escape me, but hey, it's not like I was taking notes.
The Rabbi wrapped his prayer shawl around the couple, and had them stand as close as they could be without being behind each other.



A waiter came around with a set of chimes, which evidently is the universal gesture for "It's time to go inside for dinner.)
Now we were in the ballroom. We checked in with the staff at the door to find our table, #8. This was all friends of the new couple, and turned out to be a great match. My place card read "Rev. Dave Roth", since I am in fact an ordained minister. Strangely enough, so was John, the guy three people to my right, and of the same church that ordained me (Universal Life Church) but he'd actually perfomed a marriage! Bonus.
Truck, in addition to having drawn the "save the date" cards, the invitations, and the wedding program, also drew the menu, in his inimitable Seydel style.



Not knowing that the little poultry icon on the response card that came with the wedding invitation meant Duck and not Chicken, I opted for the fish. When I found out that duck was being served, I wished, out-loud, that I had requested that, not that there was anything wrong with the fish. Then in a weird twist of irony, I was mistakenly served the duck, despite the fact that the color of my place card indicated I was to be a fish eater! Bonus! I quickly licked the duck so that they couldn't take it back.

(to be continued)
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