Tag: marriage

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Letter From The Editor Opinion

Croquet Heaven

Jesse Davis and Sydnie Hammer (Credit: Trista Hammer)

Croquet heaven: “A mythical state or region where all attempted roquets are successful and all wicket strokes are achieved on the first try and all rushes are executed with perfect precision.”  — United States Croquet Association 

About two months ago, high on the hope promised by a much-anticipated double dose of vaccine, I wrote about gambling on the future. Not big risks — my gamble was in the form of a pair of tickets for a plane trip to Boise, Idaho, where my then-girlfriend’s family lives. My sister and brother-in-law joined us for the trip, which we took just last week.  

Goose Falls (Credit: Jesse Davis)

One morning, we decided to take a short walk along the trail to Goose Falls. It was supposed to be an easy, two-mile hike. So we drove up a mountain to a parking area, dutifully read the signs warning us of what to do to avoid becoming a snack for a bear, and started on our way down the only evident trail. We clomped downhill, occasionally commenting on the sound of unseen water, falling into silence, and then startling out of our reveries when my sister would boldly state her name and place of origin. You’re supposed to “announce yourself,” you see, to avoid surprising a bear. 

After about three miles of walking with no sign of the falls in sight, we decided we had taken a wrong turn. Scenic trails through the mountains tend to wind and weave, to meander along picturesque views, but we were following a dusty road steadily downhill, haunted by the sounds of an unseen and apparently unreachable river. So we turned around and began the climb back up the trail. Before long, we were forced onto the side of the road by a Jeep making its way downhill. 

“Are you all looking for the trail to Goose Falls?” asked the older woman in the Jeep. 

“Yes,” we said in chorus, aware that we looked like dusty idiots who had mistakenly walked for miles on a “scenic” service road. Because that’s exactly what we were. 

“It’s back up the hill and across the road,” she told us, adding, “The signs they put up aren’t worth anything.” 

So we walked back up the service road. And across the parking lot and across the road and all along the (much more picturesque and blessedly shaded) path to Goose Falls. Somewhere along the way, our two-mile hike quadrupled in length, but the falls, when we reached them, were lovely. That might have been when and where I proposed, except we were all covered in dust and sweat and we hadn’t brought enough water — and anyway, I had other plans. 

First, I had to call Sydnie’s father. Not to ask permission, of course, it being the 21st century, but I owed him at least a heads up. So, while everyone else was away from our little rented cabin on the mountain, I attempted to have a heartfelt conversation, made all the more difficult by Ryan’s responses sounding as though they were mumbled through a bad vocoder on the other side of a long, metallic tunnel. I was on the verge of asking him to tap the receiver twice for “you have my blessing” when Sydnie, Coleen, and Justin pulled up in the car and the phone went totally silent. I looked at the screen to find that my phone had connected to the car’s Bluetooth. Isn’t technology lovely? 

Later, phone call finished, in the middle of a game of croquet — right before the middle wicket, in fact — I proposed to Sydnie Blair Hammer with a substitute ring because the one she wanted was delayed somewhere in the mail. She accepted. 

Why during a game of croquet? It’s the Davis family obsession. As family legend has it, before she was a grandmother, Grannie hoarded Greenbax Stamps and bought the family a croquet set — a game of their very own! Decades later, the Davises are the kind of weirdos who play croquet by the negligible light of the full moon or in the rain — without anyone suggesting quitting. So, with Sydnie’s family there to witness, along with my sister and brother-in-law, and playing the Davis family’s favorite pastime, it seemed right. A way to say without words that we see each other fully, with all our strange traditions and history, and we love each other all the more for them. You don’t just marry the person you know — you take all the selves they have been and will be, too. It’s a frightening time to make plans, these days, when each decision feels like a gamble, so better to move forward with eyes open. 

It was my way of saying I know there’s no “croquet heaven” where things work out “with perfect precision.” We’ll take the wrong road, get lost, and come across our fair share of substitute rings and sticky wickets.

And truthfully, as long as we’re together, I can’t wait.
Jesse Davis

jesse@memphisflyer.com

Categories
Food & Wine Food & Drink

The Wines That Bind Us.

Far from today’s romance-infused experience, weddings, up through the Middle Ages, were about politics and survival. Families united in economics and power, love be damned. But in this modern age, amorous couples, after the maudlin ceremony and the raucous party, fend for themselves after exchanging vows. This month, I will be entering into this social and legal rite, binding myself to a man for, hopefully, life.

Organizing the wedding ritual, we’ve rejected many silly traditions like the ridiculous garter toss and deflected numerous parental supplications, but to be honest, the hardest thing hasn’t been juggling the guest list or the family — it’s been choosing the wines. Many curious folk have inquired what this wine critic will serve at her own wedding, and, naturally, the pressure to deliver is quite palpable. Then that minor issue of budget hangs in the air. I’m, ahem, an older bride, so my parents aren’t exactly shelling out like I’m a 22-year-old. Satisfying the wallet and the palate has been a soul search.

The bubbly is perhaps the most important decision. In celebration, people will be swilling it all night, and serving a better one helps avoid hangovers. Caterers and halls normally offer limited (and quite average) wine selections, so inquire about outside purchasing like I did. Buying in bulk without a huge markup offers a significant cost savings. Although you might incur a dreaded “corkage fee,” weigh the cost difference as well as the enjoyment factor. Don’t bitch about this. Corkage fees (ranging from $3 to $20 per bottle) cover the overhead costs a caterer incurs for the wine service. But fees are, however, highly negotiable.

If budget wasn’t an issue for me, I’d pour Schramsberg Vineyards, a fantastic Sonoma Valley sparkling wine house. But at about $35 a bottle, this 38-year-old balked. I finally decided on Domaine Carneros Brut, the delicious California outpost of France’s Taittinger, which hurts less at $20 — before retail markup. If you need something even less expensive, there are excellent alternatives around $10 — Italian Prosecco (Mionetto) or Spanish Cava (Segura Viudas Aria).

Since my betrothed and I are both wine geeks, our reception is a three-course wine dinner. A hefty food base cushions the evening’s drinking agenda. And we love to eat, as do our friends and family. On the menu is lemony and dry Altanuta 2006 Pinot Grigio ($17), fruity yet robust Bonny Doon 2004 Syrah le Pousseur ($15), minerally and soft Joseph Drouhin 2005 Chablis Domaine de Vaudon ($22), earthy and bold Marchesi di Barolo 2003 Barolo ($45 — our splurge wine — second mortgage?), and a slightly sweet and fizzy Beni di Batasiolo 2005 Moscato d’Asti ($14) for the wedding cake.

For the infamous cake toast, serve a sweeter sparkling wine rather than a dry brut. The sugary smack of the cake will turn a brut pungent and flat. Look for bubblies that say “Extra Dry” or “Demi Sec” on the label. Ideal choices (if budget isn’t an issue): Iron Horse Wedding Cuvée ($34), Moët et Chandon White Star ($30), or Banfi Rosa Regale ($17).

Sit-downs for more normal couples can be much simpler. Two wines: one white, one red. Choose a lighter, more acidic Sauvignon Blanc over Chardonnay, since it generally melds better with food. For reds, the widely appealing and lighter Merlot fits both lightweight Aunt Mae and alcoholic Uncle John. Same goes for stand-up receptions and buffets, but add more variety — at least two reds and two whites.

When determining how much to buy, remember there are about five glasses in each wine bottle and about six in a sparkling. With dinner, count on one glass of wine per person, per hour (but this certainly depends on the crowd’s party-heartiness). During a reception, calculate two glasses if it’s wine and beer only, one less if you’re serving other alcoholic beverages. However, these estimates depend on how much activity you have going on — bored people will probably drink more to dull the pain. And you really don’t want to have that kind of wedding.

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We Recommend We Recommend

It’s Official

“In the Mississippi Delta, funerals bring out the best in people, while weddings … bring out the worst.”

So write authors Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hays on the opening page of Somebody Is Going To Die If Lilly Beth Doesn’t Catch That Bouquet: The Official Southern Ladies’ Guide to Hosting the Perfect Wedding (Hyperion, $19.95), their follow-up to Being Dead Is No Excuse: The Official Southern Ladies’ Guide to Hosting the Perfect Funeral.

Being dead, however, sounds like a great excuse if it means escaping the ground rules for a proper Southern wedding. As Metcalfe and Hays explain — and will be happy to re-explain at their booksigning on April 10th at the Church of the Holy Communion — if you’re a bride-to-be: be perfect (skinny and tan, if you can). If you’re a groom-to-be: be presentable (and preferably sober). And if you’re the MOB (that’s the mother of the bride): You rule! But “don’t spend more time planning the wedding than the marriage is expected to last.” It’s bad form in the Delta, home base for Metcalfe and Hays, two writers who look to be heading for a “Southern ladies” franchise in publishing. And why not? The Greenville natives know their do’s and don’ts, and they know how to take a satirical turn every sentence or two.

Years ago, Hays took her own turn — north. From Greenville, she headed to Lausanne, then to Rhodes College, then to New York City, where she wrote for the New York Post‘s gossipy “Page Six” and for New York magazine, Spy, Town & Country, and The New Republic. Today, she lives in Washington, D.C., and works as senior editor at the Independent Women’s Forum, whose motto reads: “All Issues Are Women’s Issues.” For proof, ask Lilly Beth.

Booksigning by Gayden Metcalfe and Charlotte Hays, Church of the Holy Communion, Cheney Parish Hall (4645 Walnut Grove), Tuesday, April 10th, 7 p.m. To reserve a copy of “Somebody Is Going To Die if Lilly Beth Doesn’t Catch That Bouquet,” call Burke’s Book Store at 278-7484. For more information, go to www.burkesbooks.com.

Categories
News News Feature

I Do

CREDIT: Photo courtesy of Norman Gilbert Photography

There’s a new exhibit at the Shainberg Gallery at the Memphis Jewish Community Center called “Ketubah Renaissance: The View From Memphis,” and I know what your first question is likely going to be because it was mine too: What’s a ketubah?

To put it simply, a ketubah (pronounced “k’-too-bah”) is a marriage document, common in Jewish weddings for centuries, that explicitly states how a wife is to be taken care of financially in the event of divorce or the husband’s death. It’s an insurance policy for the married woman — a legally binding wedding codicil established to compensate for what was once the man’s power over his wife. Or, as ketubah artist and curator of the exhibit Donald Emerson says, “I think of it almost as the world’s first prenuptial.”

In many cases, ketubot (plural, pronounced “k’-too-boat”) are works of art in addition to being legal certificates. The decoration of ketubot can be traced back to Italy in the early 17th century. As the art form grew in popularity, it spread to other Jewish communities across Europe and the Middle East.

It flourished for centuries, but as printing became more common, fewer couples had their ketubah handmade. Additionally, as civil law progressed and began to address women’s issues, ketubot became less necessary. For many Jewish couples, however, ketubot never disappeared as a central part of a wedding and in a household, though their role in artistic expression became more scarce.

Since the late 1960s, there’s been renewed interest in decorating the ketubah document. Today, artistically, ketubot come in just about any style. Artists featured in “Ketubah Renaissance” work in and borrow techniques from Cubism, Impressionism, Pointillism, micrography, medieval illuminated manuscripts, and much more. In addition to Emerson, Memphis ketubah artists in the show include Diane Harkavy, Sally Markell, and Stephen Wachtel.

There’s also been a loosening of the definition of what a ketubah is. Many modern ketubot are, in addition to being legally sound, egalitarian statements of commitment. A ketubah can be more symbolic than strictly practical. In some instances, they include texts that resemble vows exchanged in a Christian marriage ceremony. A few of the exhibit’s ketubot are commemorative, commissioned for couples’ 50th wedding anniversaries.

But don’t get the idea that ketubot are no longer viable, powerful documents. Traditional laws state that a couple cannot live together even one hour without a ketubah under the roof. Before loaning his ketubah for the exhibit, one husband asked his rabbi what the ramifications would be if his ketubah wasn’t physically present in his house. It was determined that so long as the couple knew the exact location of the ketubah outside of the home, it would be okay for them to still live together.

Many of the ketubot in the exhibit are wonders to behold. One ketubah, a lithograph by Debra Band, is a labyrinth of geometric puzzle pieces interspersed with 36 starbursts. A trail of wavy, delicate black lines frames the image and advances through the space between the shapes. Upon closer inspection, the lines are revealed to be micrography: tiny handwritten words. In this case, the whole of Song of Songs has been committed to the page by Band.

Many ketubot utilize the symbols of Jewish art, mythology, and history. Common motifs include the menorah, the chuppah, pomegranates, the Star of David, signs of the zodiac, lions, crowns, and images of Jerusalem. Often visual puns or multiple meanings are built into the ketubah. In addition to the Aramaic legalese standard to ketubot, the text, often written out by the artist or a calligrapher, might contain quotes from the Bible. Selections often are personalized, including, in some serendipitous instances, biblical passages that contain the names of the betrothed within one sentence.

The relatively unknown nature of ketubot was one of the main reasons Emerson put the exhibit together. “The public doesn’t see ketubot a lot, so I thought [the exhibit] was a way to turn things inside out, taking something that’s private and making it public.” The show also displays the diversity of expression. “In a sense, it’s a reflection of the diversity in the Jewish community,” Emerson says. “It’s a small community, and people from the outside tend to look at it as monolithic and homogeneous. But actually there’s a lot of variety.”

Resonant within that variety in “Ketubah Renaissance” is a consistent, clarion, ancient agape, a declaration of fidelity that rings sweet visually and textually — a holy devotion, a kedushah, made individual for a couple that honors the whole institution of love.

At the Memphis Jewish Community Center’s Shainberg Gallery through February 25th