Like most engaged couples, Jeremy Fierstien and Ilana Jackson ran into a few problems planning their wedding. But the religious couple, both 26, charged forward with the venue and food and centerpieces and thought themselves in the clear. Then came that we're-hoping-the-phone-doesn't-ring call from their doctor, just 48 teeny-tiny hours before D-day: Both bride and groom had been hit with the swine. A devastating blow, considering the virus isn’t even kosher.
Fierstien and Jackson had to make a decision. Should they proceed as planned and declare their undying love, reciting the whole “in sickness and in health” bit with extra gusto, or postpone the wedding and lose their deposit? What it boils down to is this: God doesn’t toss money from the heavens, even for rabbinical students like Fierstien. Thus, wearing face masks and latex gloves, the couple confirmed their lovey-dovey bliss on June 14 at North Suburban Synagogue Beth El in Highland Park, Illinois. While I admire their commitment to the oh-so-sacred ritual of marriage, I would have asked if those white gloves came in any other color.
One person who didn’t witness the nuptials? Jackson’s hair and makeup artist, who refused to touch her. (Silver lining: Unforeseen savings that can go into Jackson’s “toss the glasses and get contacts” fund, which may or may not already exist.) The now-Fierstiens had to make a few other concessions as well. They walked around their guests instead of down the aisle, stayed 10 feet away from everyone at all times, and didn’t dance. They also upped Purell’s stock by passing out hand sanitizers as favors.
Fierstien traces his contraction to travel between Chicago and Boston, where his rabbinical training takes place. Lesson learned: God’s protection insurance doesn’t cover out-of-state travel. Lesson yet-to-be learned: Make sure you can exchange all the china and linens on your registry for the vaccine of the hour.
What would you have done if you’d gotten hit with the swine days before your wedding? And, more importantly, is it me, or is “Fierstien and Jackson” a kickin’ name for a law firm?
Fierstien and Jackson had to make a decision. Should they proceed as planned and declare their undying love, reciting the whole “in sickness and in health” bit with extra gusto, or postpone the wedding and lose their deposit? What it boils down to is this: God doesn’t toss money from the heavens, even for rabbinical students like Fierstien. Thus, wearing face masks and latex gloves, the couple confirmed their lovey-dovey bliss on June 14 at North Suburban Synagogue Beth El in Highland Park, Illinois. While I admire their commitment to the oh-so-sacred ritual of marriage, I would have asked if those white gloves came in any other color.
One person who didn’t witness the nuptials? Jackson’s hair and makeup artist, who refused to touch her. (Silver lining: Unforeseen savings that can go into Jackson’s “toss the glasses and get contacts” fund, which may or may not already exist.) The now-Fierstiens had to make a few other concessions as well. They walked around their guests instead of down the aisle, stayed 10 feet away from everyone at all times, and didn’t dance. They also upped Purell’s stock by passing out hand sanitizers as favors.
Fierstien traces his contraction to travel between Chicago and Boston, where his rabbinical training takes place. Lesson learned: God’s protection insurance doesn’t cover out-of-state travel. Lesson yet-to-be learned: Make sure you can exchange all the china and linens on your registry for the vaccine of the hour.
What would you have done if you’d gotten hit with the swine days before your wedding? And, more importantly, is it me, or is “Fierstien and Jackson” a kickin’ name for a law firm?
(photo courtesy of Duhon Studio Photography)
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Be fabulous. Be snarky. But don't be jealous. Your 15 minutes are for the taking.