Darkness

I spent hours after work on Thursday hemming and hanging sheets of black plastic. Combined with the artificial ceiling my coworkers had suspended over the row, these sheets were going to create a very dark narrow hallway for our coworkers' children to shiver down, trying to avoid flaming skulls, skeletal hands and inflated pumpkins and ghosts.

On Friday I walked around the office, capturing my handiwork on film. As I ducked into the dark and scary hallway, I saw John's wife and mother-in-law stopping to say hi. On second glance I realized that John's mother-in-law couldn't appreciate my efforts because her world is permanently enshrouded in darkness.

While she couldn't see our decorations, I wondered what she thought as she and her daughter squeezed through the hallway, hunching their shoulders to avoid hitting their head on the cardboard and plastic ceiling. The hallway is narrow enough that they couldn't walk side-by-side so she was forced to walk slightly behind her daughter, holding her arm for guidance. They must have weaved from one side of the hallway to the other as they moved to avoid the balloons and other decorations hanging along the walls. When they got past the obstacles to John's cubicle, his wife leaned into his cube to get his attention. Her mom edged around her body, feeling the plastic curtain slither along her arm as she tried to join the conversation.

Standing there observing their conversation gave me an entirely different perspective on the decorations I had labored over. I was instantly grateful for the ease that my sight gives me, but also intrigued imagining the completely different experience John's mother-in-law had in that dark hallway.

Unspoken

The rehearsal at the church was chaotic with conflicting instructions from the wedding planner and priest for how the attendants should enter and where they should stand. To further complicate issues, our numbers were lopsided--we were short one groomsman. Behind the chaos there was a quiet whisper--the bride's brother isn't going to make it.

L was one of my college roommates. A friend of a friend to fill the extra spot in our suite my sophomore year, she had quickly become one of my best friends--someone to laugh with, to shop with, and to plan crazy stunts with. Her brother enlisted in the Navy while we were living together and I was there to share souvenirs when she came back to school from visiting him. As her wedding approached, he was still on a ship in an unspecified location.

The morning of L's wedding dawned cool and clear. After getting all dolled up, the bridesmaids were trying to pass the time at the bride's parents' house without mussing our hair or carefully applied makeup. There was a phone call as we started eating lunch and the level of tension in the house rose--L's brother was in the US. After a sleepless night spent in a helicopter, he was one quick plane ride away. Common sense said he wouldn't make it in time for his sister's ceremony, but suddenly there was a reason for seeds of optimism.

Soon our time arrived; we dressed and then helped the bride dress. The photographer arrived and we posed like supermodels. During this time, the phone kept ringing--hurried conversations indicated her brother's plane had touched down. Then there was the call trying to locate his ride and one to confirm directions. As the photographer moved on and began taking family pictures, we waited in a clump on the stairs and readied ourselves to leave for the church. There were excited murmurs and L's mother came running through the entry in her mother-of-the-bride dress and heels to clasp her son standing in the doorway. Next came his grandmother and aunt to rush to greet him. Everyone was sniffling and I had to turn away to keep from ruining my makeup.

When I turned my head back, he had stepped into the living room and was clasping hands with his sister. The light from the windows behind them was muted by sheer drapes and there was almost a halo surrounding them, her in her lace dress and veil and him in his Navy whites. Their heads leaned together, I had to blink back tears watching this unspoken moment of love between sister and brother.

Online dating

PJ and I were having a very enjoyable conversation last week, when he asked me if we could talk about our relationships--or was that too weird? He caught me completely off-guard, so I stalled for a moment, and then said, "Sure, it will be awkward, but if we're going to be friends, it would be easier if there weren't off-limit topics." Turns out he's single now. Kind of a relief actually--I was afraid he was bringing it up because he wanted to talk about his girlfriend.

He told me that one of his friends discovered that she couldn't say she was a rabbinical student in her online dating profile because it attracted men who were looking for therapists, not girlfriends. "You mean on JDate?" I interjected. "Yeah," he said, surprised that I knew about the popular Jewish online dating site. "I say I'm a graduate student on my profile. Then I tell them I'm a rabbinical student in our first contact."

I am amused by the irony that rabbinical students, a group I would imagine to be hyper-moral, are keeping truth about themselves from potential dates. I do appreciate that they are keeping an aspect of their lives private for their own safety. I have at least one other friend who also struggles with what information to share, and when, in the online dating process. And it is much like the process I go through as I prepare my blog entries--what information should I reveal?