Ringing in the New Year

Well, this post is about two months late, but at the time our story takes place, internet was scarce and spending time on it was definitely not a priority.  And so, with the magic of the snow falling outside my window, let us go back to yesteryear.  Specifically, December 2012.

Joey and I went to Israel this winter on Birthright, a wonderful program that allows any Jewish person between the ages of 18 and 26 who has not done so yet to spend ten days touring Israel with other people their age.  Joey had never been to Israel before, and when I visited with Leo Baeck Temple several years ago, there was nobody my age, but there was a six-month-old Eliana Lee Chasen and several grandparents.  Lucky for me, Birthright decided I should have the experience of travelling with my peers, and so, on December 18th, Joey and I landed together in Tel Aviv to begin our Israeli adventure.

Birthright does a great job of making sure you visit "mandatory Israel", as our friend, Gili, who lives outside Tel Aviv, calls the sites that you really can't leave Israel without seeing.  They took us up Masada, down to the Dead Sea, through Jerusalem to the Western Wall, into the nightlife of Tel Aviv, all the things that would be on any respectable "Israel Must-Do" checklist.  There was one thing, however, that Joey and I had on our personal to-do list while we were there, and that was to purchase our wedding rings.


Before my parents got married, my highly academic father did a lot of research into the hows and whys of Jewish marriage customs.  Of course, as I have studied these same rituals, both academically and personally, I have learned very different things than he did.  This has led him to the new conclusion that, despite everyone being absolutely certain in their understanding of Jewish marriage law, nobody's certainties align quite right.  One such matter is that of the rings.  According to my father, a Jewish wedding band must be a simple circle of pure gold.  No diamonds, no breaks.  This to support the initial object of the wedding ring.  That is, for the groom to give an amount of money to the bride that she
keeps for herself in case of emergency.  Should her husband mistreat her and she need to leave him, she has at least something to live on.  In order that the value of the ring be indisputable, it must be made of solid gold (a consistently standardized value) with no stones or adornments, the added value of which could be quibbled over.  In this system, the bride is actually not allowed to give a ring to the groom, as that would negate the value of the ring he just gave her.


Now, I've seen Orthodox rabbi's wives with diamonds in the band, and just about every groom these days wears a wedding ring, so who knows.  And, in fact, traditionally traditonally, (we're talking Anatevka here), the whole village would share a big, elaborate ring that was used just for the ceremony, then passed on to the next couple to wed and the married people wore no signifying jewelry.

Joey and I decided we wanted the simple gold bands quite a while ago.  Since there's nothing visually spectacular about that, we decided to take advantage of the ability to really get them anywhere we wanted.  When shopping for my engagement ring, Joey had very particular things in mind, either that he wanted or that he didn't want, and there were a lot more factors at play, particularly with the stone.  So he shopped around and ultimately, with the help of a good friend, found the ring he wanted in a jewelry shop in Omaha.  For my engagement ring, the specialness and the beauty and the care are evident when you look at it.  For the wedding rings, there would be no way visually to tell them from just about any other simple gold ring, so we wanted their special qualities to come from their making.

While we were in Israel, we asked two of our Israeli guides, Rami and Adi, to give us the name of a good jeweler in Jerusalem, Joey's and my collective favorite city in Israel.  We asked them to help us find someone with a good neshama, a good soul.  This is a little bit of my California hippy heritage coming into play, and many of you have heard me discuss this concept in relation to food, but I believe that the quality and emotions of the person making something (rings, bread pudding) absolutely come through in the finished product.  I think that a simple ring made by a good man carries different qualities than an identical ring made by a greedy, dishonest man.  Joey is perhaps not quite so invested in this strange branch of my personal theology, but he was willing enough to accept it, especially when both Rami and Adi came back to us, independently, with the same name: Meltzer.

The Meltzer shop is just far enough off Ben Yehuda Street, the remarkably touristy area of shops, to be a different type of place entirely.  Gone are the "Special discount for Birthright!" signs and large, brightly-lit displays.  Meltzer's shop has a quiet sign out front and about 100 square feet of space inside.  I walked in and asked the man at the counter "Are you Mr. Meltzer?"  "Yes," he responded, pointing around to the other men in the shop.  "I'm Meltzer, and he's Meltzer, and he's Meltzer.  We are all Meltzers!"  I explained, nervously, why we were there and he pulled out a few trays of rings to show us, none of which quite seemed right.  We said as much, and he pulled a big bag of rings from the back and dumped them out on the display case.  This was definitely not the luxury boutique experience.  We spent quite some time discussing style, finish, thickness, and size, before we left.  Who knew "simple gold band" could be so complicated?  He had to make them special for us, and, being unable to really see the exact rings we wanted fitting on our hands, I was very nervous about what we'd think when we picked them up the next day.  One of the Mr. Meltzers told me I shouldn't be so worried, "it's only marriage."  Joey laughed at his joke.  I did not.

On the last day of 2012 we travelled back to Jerusalem to pick up our rings.  We went to Meltzer's shop, tried them on, and they were perfect.  Exactly what we wanted.  We had our simple gold bands, made by a good man, from a place that was really special and meaningful to us both.  They may not stop anyone on the street with their elaborate beauty, but that's not what they're for.  They're for us to remember what is special and important and meaningful for us.

Leap of Faith

As much as I understand how the wedding ceremony signals the beginning of our life together as husband and wife, I feel like Joey and I really became a permanent adult couple this week.  When Joey offered and I accepted that beautiful diamond ring on that beautiful Santa Monica day, we made a commitment to each other.  That proposal supposedly was the moment that we officially decided that we were sticking together no matter what, and at the wedding that contract will be sealed.

But this week I moved to Omaha.  This week I left New Orleans, the city that I have come to truly love in a way I never would have expected before that first fateful trip five years ago.  This week I said goodbye to all the wonderful people and things I have become accustomed to and familiar with and all the opportunities I had yet to explore in that crazy beautiful city with so much hidden below the beaded surface.  This week I got in my beloved little red firetruck, the car that has served me faithfully since my first frightened 6am forays behind the wheel onto the streets of Los Angeles, packed up a very confused and concerned kitten, and drove a thousand miles to live in Omaha, Nebraska with the man I love.

To me, this is the commitment.  I am taking a huge leap of faith here.  I am leaving comfort and familiarity, friends and organizations that I know how to work into my life.  I am moving to a place where I know almost nothing and almost no one.  I am moving without a job, without the majority of my belongings including furniture (and cooking utensils!), and without a built-in community into which I will fit, like a university.  I am moving 100% to be with Joey, who has chosen the University of Nebraska Medical Center as his overlord for the next several years of his life.

There is hope, though; Omaha streets appear to have been laid out by sober city planners and Joey has introduced me to a wonderful new group of friends over the course of the last year of visits.  We picked out a great apartment in a safe part of town.  My car and my relationship survived the trip from New Orleans through Mississippi (lots of Mississippi), Arkansas, St Louis (where we were able to take advantage of the everlasting HGM family and stay with the inimitable Dean Tambling), Kansas City, lots more Missouri, Iowa, and finally to Omaha.  I have job interviews lined up all week, and plan to apply for more, so at least I've got that process started.  Joey and I have done a lot of shopping these last two days and now have what I am calling a "minimally functional household".  We have a place to sleep, minimal kitchen utensils, and two chairs.  Our first night here I made midnight pasta which we ate standing up in the kitchen before collapsing on a sheet on the floor of our bedroom.  Our second night, I made miso-glazed salmon from Trader Joe's, brown rice, and steamed green beans, which we ate on newly-purchased dishes with my grandparents' silverware, sitting on newly-purchased patio chairs (thank you, craigslist) on our private balcony before going to sleep on our brand-new mattress in our newly-purchased antique bed.  We are definitely moving in a positive direction, and fast.

Last month I was focused on finals and finishing school (turns out, my last semester was the one in which I finally learned to get things done early and earn consistently good grades).  Three weeks ago I was focused on packing up and downsizing my New Orleans life.  Last week I was hosting my family for graduation while finalizing packing and coordinating my move.  Just a few days ago I was putting all my energy into driving (and worrying about the cat, who was nonplussed about the whole thing).  This week I am setting up my new home and worrying about things like "where do these bowls go?" and "did we buy a sponge?".  Today is my first job interview, for a family looking for a once-a-week babysitter.  It's not a long-term career, but it will give me something to do and some new people to meet for at least a little while.

Next week is when the reality of my new life will really sink in.  Joey is going off to work in a lab for the summer, and it will be up to me to figure out what I'm doing here.  Fortunately, I have the love and support of Joey and, to a lesser extent, Boudreaux.  I have a safe place to live and wonderful friends I can turn to, even if they're far away.  We're moving forward, and the road ahead may be scary, but it's leading somewhere good.