Here Come The Brides
On Saturday I leave to go to New York for the wedding of my dear friends,
Micheale and Cheryl. I met Micheale some four years ago when we
volunteered at the now defunct Community Center. Cheryl came into the
picture about a year later. They are both special dear people whom I love,
admire and truly feel lucky to have in my life.
Their ceremony will include a lot of traditional elements of a Jewish wedding,
including the signing of the k'tubah. A k'tubah is a sort of marriage
contract. In the old days, I am told, it outlined the groom's obligations
and how many goats the bride was worth. Micheale and Cheryl's k'tubah will
outline their vows and responsibilities as a couple. They have asked me to
be one of the people who will sign with them as witnesses.
The k'tubah is also a piece of artwork they are having commissioned and
eventually be presented on their wall. Once I found this out I asked
Micheale, "Are you sure you want me to sign it?" She said
yes and wanted to know why I asked. I said, "Have you ever seen my
signature?"
Here is a description of my signature. First imagine a capital B. I
don't even bother writing my whole first name. Just the B. (Yes, I
am that lazy.) Then my last name is a series of round loops that don't
really appear to spell my last name but somehow signify it starts with a G and
has two other loopy letters in it.
I'm not sure how my signature evolved into this mess. I've never written
in cursive, even in school...well except when it was being taught. Once
cursive writing was off the curriculum, I refused to write that way any more.
I used to be very meticulous about how I signed my name, carefully creating each
letter so it could be perfectly identified. Somewhere along the way an
economy of time and motion took over and it became the series of flourished
loops it is today.
Micheale assures me my signature will be fine for their k'tubah and that it will
give it a rock star autograph quality that their kids can one day point at and
ask "who's that?" and they will reply, "That's your
Uncle Brian." At that point that kid will probably roll their eyes
and say "Oh, that explains it."
