Before I get to my main topic, there are two things I’d like to mention.
First, in my April blog I wished Will Shortz a speedy recovery from his recent stroke. I had also written that his stroke ended his “playing streak of nearly 4000 consecutive days.” Although my last blog pushed for USATT to provide some factual reporting on what is happening in American table tennis, I was in fact spreading misinformation. Will’s playing streak ended at an extraordinary 4141 days. I recently visited Westchester Table Tennis Center and I can report that Will’s recovery is steadily progressing. Although he has not sought to launch a new streak, he has returned, with assistance, to the table. I can also report that Will’s extraordinary generosity seems to have never abated during his health crisis—maybe an even more remarkable streak. We all look forward to his return to full health.
Second, I want to extend a heartfelt congratulations to fellow blogger and author, Larry Hodges, on his new book, Table Tennis Doubles for Champions. As I mentioned in a previous blog, Larry is the US’s most prolific table tennis author. Incidentally, his repertoire extends beyond table tennis and includes science fiction and fantasy, as well as the unlikely crossover-genre of table tennis science fiction! Table Tennis Doubles for Champions is Larry’s first book on doubles and I was delighted to see it published. As a result of our individualist culture, perhaps, doubles is underappreciated in the US and played less commonly than singles at table tennis clubs throughout the country. This is a shame; as I noted in The Ping Pong Player and the Professor, doubles creates camaraderie. And the second-class status of doubles is not limited to club players. Compared to other countries, US elite players focus much less on doubles training. Nonetheless, we’ve actually had some international success in doubles. Notably, the last US gold medal at the World Championships was the mixed doubles team of Leah Thall-Neuberger and Erwin Klein, in 1956. And in one of the most iconic matches of the 20th century, Danny and Ricky Seemiller defeated the top Chinese duo of Liao Fu and Guo Yuehua (who was ranked #1 in the world) at the 1977 World Championships. More recently, Amy Wang and Rachel Sung won a bronze medal in Women’s Doubles at the World University Games in Chengdu last summer. Eliel was a member of the US Men’s Team at those World University Games, so he was able to watch and cheer their unprecedented run to a medal.
Doubles offers an obvious segue to what I really want to write about this month, celebrating the union of two people, that is, a wedding. Specifically, one of my children just got married, bringing me one step closer to my ultimate goal in life: becoming a granddaddy. Well, maybe it is my penultimate goal. I’ve cherished life as a ping pong pop, so I know if I am ever blessed with grandchildren I will undoubtedly aspire to become a ping pong grandpop. Now that would be accomplishing something in life!
I had no idea that the wedding of a child would be so emotionally exhausting, but it was. It was also one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. The wedding celebration was a weekend-long affair and it was exceptionally beautiful. Not just the ceremony, which was gorgeous and moving. And not just the setting, which was a forested New England camp with streams and a lovely pond that offered me a relaxing afternoon swim. The wedding guests—friends and family—were beautiful as well. And we were blessed with perfect spring weather for all three days. The singing and dancing throughout the weekend were otherworldly. I hope I never forget a minute of it.
In this blog space I promised to write about what’s on my mind, and all I’ve been thinking about for weeks is the wedding—both before and after—so I decided to share my wedding speech in this month’s blog. Or, at least I am going to share what I remember of my speech before I forget it. I’m not in the habit of writing such things down—I’m painfully disorganized and a natural procrastinator—but I figured if I write my speech up as a blog it will be available if I want to cannibalize it the next time one of my kids gets married.
Before turning to my wedding speech, I should mention that I will continue the practice I adopted in The Ping Pong Player and the Professor and anonymize those who are not public figures, with the exception of Eliel. Thus, the names below are all pseudonyms.
Here’s the speech, roughly as I remember it:
This is not my first wedding speech. In fact, it is my second. The first was for my sister’s wedding six years ago. As a wedding-speech rookie, I was clueless, and I didn’t hide my cluelessness from the other guests. I mentioned in my speech that I had no idea what I was supposed to say until I finally realized that a wedding speech is really just like a letter of recommendation, and as a professor I write a lot of letters of recommendation for students. In my recommendation letters I need to say nice things about my students; in my wedding speech I need to say nice things about the couple. So, I convinced myself that the speech was simply an oral letter of recommendation and therefore should be, as people younger than me are wont to say, “easy peasy.” Right?
Well, not exactly. I enjoy writing, but I’m terrified of public speaking. I know what you are thinking: isn’t this guy a professor who teaches for a living? Yes, but I also have an incurable habit of making life more difficult for myself than it should be. In any event, when Rivka and Netzach asked me to speak at their wedding, I literally responded, “Do I have a choice?” Their answer, well, Rivka’s answer, was clear and decisive: “No choice.” I realized there was no way out of this, so I reasoned that my best play would be to bargain for something. What did I bargain for? A freedom I have been fighting for my entire life: the right to wear comfortable clothes. The most comfortable clothes I ever wore was during fieldwork in Micronesia when I sported a loin cloth, but Rivka is my first child to get married so I reasoned that if I wore a loin cloth at this wedding it might damage the marriage prospects of my other children. There is an interesting implication of this realization that my other children might wish to take note of. It means that if all that is preventing me from wearing a loin cloth at a wedding is damaging your marriage prospects, it would behoove you not to be the last one to get married. In any event, for this wedding, I bargained for shorts.
Once I had negotiated my terms, I began to think about the speech. This is embarrassing to admit, but when I write a recommendation letter for a student, it is not entirely from scratch. Let’s face it, how many different ways can I possibly say that a student is brilliant, diligent, insightful, and responsible? How many superlatives can I possibly muster? Shamelessly, I do a bit of cutting and pasting from letter to letter. In my defense, I always add something personal about the student.
So, understandably, when I was asked to give this speech I thought, “Well, my rookie speech at my sister’s wedding didn’t go badly. Maybe I can recycle what I said at my sister’s wedding?” Okay, yes, there were a few obvious problems with this plan. For starters, some people—including Rivka—would have heard my first wedding speech, but I don’t really remember what I said, so why would anyone else? The main thing I recall was that when I was searching for superlatives, all I could come up with at the moment was that my sister and her husband are tall, which was not something I could, or would want to, recycle for this speech. Although I couldn’t remember what I had said at my sister’s wedding I knew it had been recorded, so I figured I could watch it, learn it, and repeat it. I’m sure whatever nice things I said about my sister and her husband—other than complimenting their height—would apply to Rivka and Netzach. But then I realized I would still have to say something new and personalize the speech. What should I say?
My first thought was, I’m an anthropologist, how about something anthropological? Maybe I could talk about different marriage customs around the world? Here’s one: Among the Kung!, hunter-gatherers of Namibia and Botswana, only children attend weddings. This practice of course has the appeal that there are no daddy speeches at Kung! weddings, but the relevance to Rivka and Netzach was less than obvious.
Or maybe I should offer an allusion to The Lord of the Rings? Is there a parallel between this wedding and Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday party, the Long-expected Party? In his birthday speech, Bilbo famously insults his guests, calling them “one gross,” explaining that he’d invited exactly 144 guests to match his and Frodo’s combined total of years. To honor The Lord of the Rings did Rivka and Netzach invite 144 guests, a gross, like Bilbo? Maybe, but if so, what was the meaning?
Or maybe the link to The Lord of the Rings has to do with shared birthdays. Bilbo and Frodo share a birthday, September 22, the date of the Long-expected Party. And it will come as no surprise that Netzach and his twin brother share a birthday. Nor will it surprise anyone that my mother and her twin brother also share a birthday. But did you know that all four of them share the same birthday? Not only do the four of them share a birthday, but so do my two cousins from California, my Nana, and Eliel. So how does this all relate to the marriage we are here to celebrate? I have no idea. The search, like the road (as Bilbo would have it), must go on.
Fortuitously, I was at a table tennis club with Eliel this past week and one of the players at the club mentioned that his son had gotten married last weekend. Forgetting my manners and failing to initially congratulate him, I exclaimed excitedly, “That’s fantastic! I can plagiarize your speech!” He assured me that his speech was indeed fantastic and he advised me that the secret to a successful wedding speech is “props.” In his speech, he approached the microphone with a briefcase, which evidently immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. During his speech he held up the briefcase and announced “The key to a happy marriage is inside this briefcase!” After sufficient hype and suspense, he opened the briefcase revealing a large cardboard golden key with a smiley face. Regaining my manners, I politely laughed, but inside I wept. I realized I would need to search elsewhere to find something to say during my speech.
It was actually Netzach who provided the solution. Last night, while we were all singing around the campfire, Netzach taught us a niggun, a wordless melody. I liked the tune a lot so I asked him where it was from. He said it was a niggun of the Sassover Rebbe. Sassov is a town in what is now Ukraine, and the Sassover Rebbe, Rabbi Moshe Lieb Erblich, was one of the great Hassidic masters of the late 18th century. My face lit up when Netzach told me it was a Sassov niggun as I consider myself a “fan” of the Sassover Rebbe, in particular because there are some wonderful stories about him. I realized that Netzach had solved my problem: I should tell a story about the Sassover Rebbe. So, here’s a story.
One day the Sassover Rebbe enters an inn and sits near two local peasants who are drinking and getting drunk. One turns to his companion and says, “Tell me, friend, do you love me?”
His friend responds, “Of course I love you. We are here every evening drinking together, of course I love you.”
Then the first one says to him, “Then tell me, friend, what causes me pain?”
“How should I know what causes you pain?” his friend reacts in surprise.
“If you loved me you would know what causes me pain.”
From that day on, every time the Sassover Rebbe taught his students about loving another human being he told them that to love someone means to know what causes them pain, to know what makes them suffer, to know what makes them hurt. And once you know what causes someone pain, it is a small step to do something to mitigate or alleviate that pain.
Here is another story.
It is the second night of Passover and Rivka and Netzach are spending the holiday with Netzach’s extended family. Rivka is feeling tired and unwell and decides to call it a night before the Seder is completed. Rivka heads to bed. After the Seder, Netzach wakes Rivka up in order to count the Omer.
By way of background, Jews count the 50 days from the second night of Passover until the holiday of Shavuos. On Shavuos, Jews celebrate receiving the Torah, so you can think of it as a counting down—or counting up—in anticipation of this momentous event. Every night during the Omer Jews say a bracha (blessing) and count the day. The issue is that if you miss a night you are not permitted to recite the blessing for the rest of the Omer. I have no idea why—ask a rabbi—but such is the practice.
Back to the story. Rivka was sound asleep. Netzach tried to wake Rivka, and kept trying. He finally succeeded and he got Rivka to say the bracha. When these events were recounted to me, Rivka’s face was lit up, “Netzach really loves me. I would have been so upset if I had missed reciting the bracha on the first night.” Netzach knows what causes Rivka pain.
Here is another story.
Netzach becomes obsessed with a 16-minute Vishnitzer Hassidic melody but he is frustrated that nobody else knows the tune. Rivka, with the help of Netzach’s twin brother, asks friends and family to learn the melody as a wedding surprise for Netzach, which will be sung on Shabbos morning. Unfortunately for the surprise, Netzach decides to address his frustration by doing the same thing—asking his friends and family to learn the tune for his wedding—and thus Rivka was forced to reveal the surprise. Nonetheless, it is clear that Rivka knows what causes Netzach pain.
Netzach, I knew you were a keeper fairly early on. Specifically, it was when you met my parents. There is so much that can go wrong in such meetings, especially since you and my father are both quiet introverts. What would you say to each other? What would you talk about? Well, it turns out the answer to that question was simple: 1940s showtunes! My parents and Netzach hit it off, discussing and listening to their favorite showtunes all afternoon. It was apparently Rivka who remained largely quiet that day, having nothing to contribute to such a conversation.
My speech continued by thanking the appropriate people for their contributions to the wedding, and thanking everyone for making the effort, many traveling from afar, to join us for the celebration. Of course, I saved my final remarks for Rivka and Netzach. I concluded by blessing them to continue nourishing their love for each other. I blessed them to not only perceive what brings happiness to one another, but also to always perceive what causes each other pain. And then, when those perceptions are clear, take that small step to do everything they can to elicit joy and prevent suffering for each other.
I don’t know how parents normally experience their children’s weddings, but Rivka and Netzach’s festive wedding weekend was one of the most joyous experiences of my life. It was by far the best wedding I’ve ever attended and I was honored to be part of it. I can’t wait to dance at the next one.
Richard Sosis 