FLOOR COLLAPSES AT WEDDING
Egos Bruised, Teeth Jarred
Yiddishe Cup played a wedding in a backyard in Connecticut where the floor partially collapsed. The ground became soggy underneath the tent, which was built into the side of a hill. The tent grid work — which supported the plywood floor — sunk. About 50 semi-drunken partygoers did athletic hora steps and pogo-ing, and the floor buckled.
The groom’s mom told me to stop the music.
I didn’t. You can’t stop the hora at a wedding; it’s bad luck for the marriage. I said, “Two more minutes.” She said no, and jumped onto the bandstand and yanked the saxophone from my mouth. Luckily, I wasn’t playing clarinet (different embouchure, more likely to damage my teeth). I said, “Don’t ever do that again!” She was oblivious to me. She frantically dialed her phone for a repairman.
The tent-repair crew arrived shortly, and during a break the crew crawled under the tent and put in extra supports. The mom had the band playing only background music. We sounded like a string quartet at a funeral. We didn’t want anybody to dance, because the floor would collapse even more. We had traveled 500 miles to play tepid tunes like “Jerusalem of Gold” and “Tumbalalaika,” and have my ax yanked. What a letdown.
The dancing picked up after the repair crew fixed the support grid work. Lots of ruach (spirit), and no more assaults on my teeth.
Watch out, literature here . . .
13 Jews are in line
A woman says
“Do I want the mushroom omelet?”
Is she talking to me?
The beauty of the East Coast
Red maples in Connecticut
We’ve come a long way
Why do I imagine everybody at this wedding
is thin and wearing black?
Because everybody is thin and wearing black
“You’re from somewhere near Hungary,” I say
“Finland,” the woman says
“Don’t they share a language bond?”
I’m on a losing streak with accents
Where is the euphony?
This band is loud
This band is Yiddishe Cup
Turn it down, guys!
We are in the Berkshires
The leaves are falling
So are we
Yiddishe Cup plays for Simchat Torah 7 p.m. Sun., Oct. 7, Fairmount Temple, and 7:15 p.m. Mon., Oct. 8, Park Synagogue. Cleveland.