A “Becoming” excerpt in sequence:

A Becoming Wedding Night

Chicago, Illinois

December 17, 1955: Wedding

The first couples through the doorway and under the flower-covered trellis— ‘huppa’— were Lawrence and Marsha’s friend Sandy. Then her cousin Maxine and her boyfriend David followed by Rosalie and her fiancé, Marty. Then Shelly and her fiancé, Alvin. They were followed by two other couples whom, at a precise distance, walked down the white-carpeted aisle to split right and left before the raised platform.

The ring boy, Morton— looking very serious— walking by himself took his position to the left of the ‘huppa’… The plume-covered arch under which the bride, the groom and the Rabbi were to stand throughout the conservative Jewish ceremony.

The best man, Roger, following Morton, went to the right of the huppa. Pearl— Marsha’s maternal grandmother, was helped down the aisle by her daughter Sadie, while Ruth—Marsha’s paternal grandmother, was accompanied by her son William. Arm in arm, Morris and Jennie Barrish walked the aisle together.

My, God! So many people!

Standing in the doorway beneath the trellis, looking across the huge, pink plume- and flower-adorned room, thinking, And they’re all looking at me!

Hearing the barely whispered comments…

“He’s beautiful!”

“He’s gorgeous!”

“He’s so handsome!”

Blushing…

Suddenly the white, starched collar was ‘much’ too tight and Mitchell had an all but uncontrollable urge to look down to see if he’d, Oh, please, God! zipped his trousers.

The music began.

Mitchell stepped off the maroon carpet onto the white runner. Within two steps, Myra flanked him on the right and Walter the left.

He felt his mother’s fingers touch his, and held her hand.

He felt his father’s fingers touch his, and held his hand.

Walking slowly, in time with the music, he tried to hold his head steadily forward but shifting from side to side, his eyes searched for and, finding them, nodded at familiar faces as…

Oh, God, Mitchell thought, this has to be the longest walk I’ve ever walked!

Finally…

Reaching the dais, Myra and Walter veered to the left as, Mitchell, do not trip! went up the two steps, turned around and, standing beneath the huppa, faced the people.

But now…

Turned in their seats, the people were all looking expectantly towards the trellis.

The music stopped.

The room perfectly silent…

The music began again and…

Marsha was there!

Catching his breath. His heart pounding. His eyes became moist because, Oh, my God, from across the room Mitchell saw Marsha’s face through the sheer, white veil…

Oh, my God!

He had never seen anyone as lovely. Anyone as beautiful as Marsha…

‘His Marsha’.

Marsha’s snow-white gown was velvet over lace. The bodice was covered with white sequins and seed pearls. The long over-skirt was scalloped in a tulip cut and shoulder length, detached sleeves of white velvet covered her arms and wrists. Wearing a crown of seed pearls, the rear of the veil fell to below her waist. On her right arm, Marsha held a bouquet of long stemmed, white roses and in her left hand, a white, leather-bound Bible trailed a short streamer of small, white orchids.

Marsha stood…

A stunningly beautiful picture, magnificently framed within the trellis of flowers.

The music of the orchestra trailed off once again leaving the room in momentary silence.

One hundred and fifty-three people looked at the tall, slender girl in the white gown and gossamer veil…

And as a ground swell picks up momentum…

“She is ‘so’ beautiful!”

…The collective whisper becoming Mitchell’s thoughts…

“Oh, ‘so’ beautiful!”

Hearing the whispers…

“Lovely!”

...Seeing the faces, the girl became hopelessly stage-struck.

The plaintively melodic strands of a single violin playing ‘The Wedding March’.

Swallowing. Closing her eyes a moment, instinctively, Oh, God! moving out of fear itself, Marsha stepped from under the trellis and began the, Oh, God! long journey to the huppa…

As she started to walk her knees began to wobble and she became faint and only by sheer willpower and her inherent stubbornness was she able to remain standing for the three seconds it took until she was taken in tow and held, Thank God! by her elbows by Rhea on her right and Eli on the left.

Her eyes cast downward. Concentrating on keeping her feet moving—one, the other, one, the other—her hands shaking, Marsha actually heard the nervous rattle of the bouquet of flowers she held within the crook of her left arm…

Oh, God! Why are we stopping?

Hands leaving her elbows...

Oh, God!

Eli took the bouquet of long-stemmed roses. Rhea the white, leather bound Bible. then going to the right of the dais, Rhea and Eli Goldman left their daughter to stand alone…

Oh, God!

As now…

A pair of patent-leather shoes, approaching from before her, came down the two steps and a new hand — a hand with a completely different feel — taking hold of her right elbow, “Marcie,” she heard someone whisper, “I love you!”

Mitchell’s touch and voice registering on her mind, once again she allowed herself to be propelled forward, up the two steps and now, the people at her back she was able to lift her eyes and with a glance at the profile of the young man to her right, Marsha looked forward as releasing her elbow, reaching to the side and taking her sweating hand, Mitchell clasped it tightly as…

“Ba-ruch A-ta Adoni, Eh-lo-hei-nu meh-lech ha-o-lam.”

The ceremony began…

****

“Do you, Mitchell, take Marsha…”

“I do!” Leaning forward, he sipped sweet wine from a silver goblet.

“Do you, Marsha, take Mitchell…”

“I do!” Lifting the veil, she sipped sweet wine from a silver goblet.

“With this ring, I do thee wed.”

Repeating the Rabbi’s words: ‘With this ring, I do thee wed’. Mitchell put the wide band of white gold onto Marsha’s finger.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

“ ‘I now pronounce you man and wife’.” With these words Mitchell stamped upon the bulky napkin that had been placed beside his right foot, shattering the wine glass within.

****

“Mazel tov!”

Turning to his bride, lifting her veil, Mitchell Lipensky kissed Marsha Lipensky.

“Mazel tov!”

In the eyes of God!

“Mazel tov!”

**** 

A reception line formed and one hundred and fifty-three people filed by…

Relatives and friends. And those who were strangers to either the bride or the groom, or to one or the other family, and twice there were people that, absolutely, ‘no’ one knew.

The people came into the line offering…

“Congratulations!” And wishing, “You should have a long, healthy, and prosperous life!”

And envelopes…

Oh, ‘yes’! lots of envelopes were pressed into Mitchell’s hands that he stuffed into the thickening inside pockets of his rented tuxedo.

“Mazel tov! You’re a beautiful couple!” said a lady.

“A long and healthy life to both of you!” said a man.

“Be happy, mein kinder!”

“Hey, Mitch,” winking at him slyly, “don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

“Yeah. Lurey, I’ll remember ‘not’ to do anything you wouldn’t!”

“Mazel tov!” … “Thank you!” Mitchell said.

“Mazel tov!” … “Thank you!” Marsha said.

“Thank you!” … “Thank you!” … “Thank you!”

****

“Stand here! Let’s get a picture of the bride and groom kissing under the trellis.”

… “Under the huppa.”

… “With the parents.”

… “With the grandparents.”

… “The entire wedding party, there!”

****

A bottleneck formed at the open bar:

“A martini, bartender.

...“White wine.”

… “Beer, please.”

… “Scotch’n’rocks.”

… “Straight up!”

… “On the side.”

Speaking from behind his hand, “Kat a kool at the drub with the gib tits!”

Looking, “What broad with big tits you talkin’ about, Lurey?” Joey Solomon asked. “Oh, her!”

“I heard it!” An older woman said. “Her hands were shaking so badly the flowers rattled.”

“Where the hell’s the food?”

****

Dinner:

The bride and groom the center of attraction at the head table with Myra and Walter to the right, Rhea and Eli to the left and their immediate families at their sides.

All other guest at their places, at their assigned tables…

With the exception of the two that ‘no’ one knew, that sat wherever there was an empty chair.

****

A toast by Walter: “Welcome to the family, Marsha!”

A toast by Eli: “Welcome to the family, Mitchell!”

A toast by Roger: “To the newlyweds!”

****

Circulate from table to table:

“Hi! Hope you’re enjoying yourself!”

… “Hello! Hope you’re having a good time!”

… “Hi! Glad you could come!”

****

Dance time:

“Lets get the newlyweds up here to lead us in the first dance, and in their first dance as Mister and Mrs. Mitchell Lipensky!”

“Oh, how we danced on

the night we were wed,

we vowed our true love,

though a word wasn’t said.”

Fox trot … rumba … jitterbug … bunny hop …

Form a line, hold hands, “Ha-va-negila!” Kick your feet, “Ha-va-negila!” Form a circle, “Ha-va-negila!”

kick your feet higher... faster... higher...faster!

****

More pictures. More movies. Tomorrow’s memories.

****

A couple put their hats and coats on. Thanking the Goldmans and Lipenskys, giving Marsha and Mitchell one last “Good luck to you kids,” they left.

Then another couple and soon, another.

The large room began to empty.

The orchestra played, ‘Good Night, Ladies’.

December 18, 1955

1:23 AM

Eli sat in an easy chair, smoking.

Walter sat on the other chair, eating grapes from a fruit basket sent by the hotel.

Her wedding gown hanging on an over sized hanger in the closet. Having changed into flannel pajamas that she’d buttoned to the neck, Marsha was lying on the far side of the bed with one arm pressed tightly against the pain in her lower abdomen and the other— shutting out the glare of the lights lay across her eyes.

Sitting on the end of the bed. Having taken off the jacket and cummerbund, Mitchell still wore the crumpled tuxedo shirt and trousers.

The mothers, Rhea and Myra, were sitting on the edge of the bed counting cash and checks.

Marsha wanted them out so she could take a pain pill and go to sleep.

Mitchell wanted them to leave immediately— if not sooner — because, his stomach bloated, he had been fighting an army of gas bubbles that, advancing through his intestinal tract, were trying to find escape through his rectum and now, squirming, thinking the profound thought, Where do farts go if you really gotta fart, but don’t Tightening his anus against the onslaught, again! Further thinking, I want them out of here so I can—although he hadn’t figured how he was going to muffle the sounds against Marsha hearing and, knowing himself, he ‘knew’ there would be sounds— harsh, loud sounds— but at least then it would only be the two of them and ‘all’ he wanted right now was to get into the toilet and fart.

“Two thousand, twenty!” Myra said.

“And three thousand, one hundred, forty. That makes,” Rhea added, “Five thousand, one hundred, sixty dollars! Not bad!” Looking from Mitchell to Marsha, “You kids do want me to hold it for you, don’t you?”

His mind momentarily diverted, Over five grand! “Wow, that’s great, Rhea!” Mitchell squeezed Marsha’s foot, but…

Too tired and in too much in pain to become too excited about the money now. Raising herself onto her elbows. “That’s enough to buy a house with?”

“Sure,” Walter said, popping another grape into his mouth. “More than enough for a down payment, with some left over for some furniture, too.”

Also knowing this money was more than she needed for the down payment on the slum property.

“But, not if you let it run through your fingers!”

Remembering that his parents had taken his Bar Mitzvah money without asking, or even telling him.

“Marcie, I don’t see any reason why your mother shouldn’t hold the money for us, do you?”

“No, Mitchell,” she said tiredly. “That’s just fine.”

“Breathing a sigh of relief. “Good,” Rhea said.

“But ‘please’,” Marsha pleaded, looking from parent to parent. “ ‘Please’ go home!”

“Yeah!” Clenching his buttocks tightly, standing. “It’s been a long day!”

Besides thinking of the porcelain bowl in the toilet as something akin to heaven’s throne… Even though he had accepted the fact that they would not be having intercourse, Mitchell could not wait to get into bed and cuddle spoon fashion next to Marsha… And if a breast, or two, somehow fell into his hands, well, he could sleep with that.

Standing. “Okay then.” Rolling the checks and cash together. “You can endorse the checks tomorrow.” Rhea put them into her purse. “And I’ll...”— sure she will!—“...open a savings account for you two on Monday.”

“Rhea...” Mitchell surely did ‘not’ want to hold them back, but he did want her to know, “...we’re going to be needing some stuff when we get to New York: a television and a few things. So how’s about giving us, uh, about seven, eight hundred and you can deposit the rest someplace till we’ll be needing it for a down payment.”

As though the thought had just occurred to him. “Yes..” Eli said although for years he had been reading newspaper ads for…

“You’ll be a ‘vet’ then, and it’ll be easy to get a G.I. loan on a house in ‘Morton Grove’.”

The thought of his daughter living as close as Morton Grove— a half-hour or so away and maybe even having a baby—though this thought utterly ‘incomprehensible’—was an absolute dream for Eli and, for the first time since Marsha announced her engagement Eli felt a bit of optimism.

Counting the money as she handed it to him. “Seven, eight... Tell you what, Mitch, let’s make it an even thousand. That’ll leave forty-one hundred, sixty dollars…” More than enough to cover me. “…that I’ll put into an account for you.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Watching as she counted out ten ‘twenties’. “thanks, Rhea.”

“Come on,” standing, Eli patted Walter’s knee. “Let’s get out of here and let the kids…” Still considering his daughter as his ‘baby’. Finding it hard now to say ‘get to bed’.

Pulling himself off the chair. “Yeah, I’m about ready for some sleep myself.”

“You, want us to take some of your stuff?”

“Here...” handing Rhea Marsha’s crown and veil, shoes, and the white leather Bible that were on the dresser, “...take these.”

“Anything else?”

Positive that he would ‘not’ be able to hang on much longer. “ ‘No’! Go on! ‘Go home’!”

“’Night, kids, see you in the morning.”

The door closed.

Oh, yeah! Moving towards the bathroom, but…

“Mitchie,” sitting up, “mind if I get in there first, ‘please’. I’ve got to take a pain pill!”

Looking longingly at the bathroom door. Also knowing— besides the bowel sounds— that when through he’ll be leaving the room, to say the least, ‘smelly’, and maybe it would be best to let her in first. “Yeah, okay...” nodding his head, “...only make it fast, ‘please’!”

“Thanks.” Hefting her green, imitation lizard overnight case off the floor. Going into the bathroom, Marsha closed the door behind her.

A bit snug when he’d first put them on, throughout the evening food and drink had caused his stomach to bloat and the waistband of the trousers had been cutting into his waist for hours. Sighing as he opened them, the trousers dropped in a heap at his feet.

Scratching at the itching red welt about his hips, he removed the crumpled shirt, picked up the pants then fished the over-sized hanger out of the large white plastic bag in the closet and draped the pants across the bar of the hanger. Making sure all of the pearlized studs were held snugly in their button holes, Mitchell hung the shirt and jacket over the hanger then dropped the patent-leather shoes along with the tie and cummerbund into the bag and zipped it up…

As all the while holding his swollen gut ib and his anus clamped shut.

Taking his kit. Going to the second vanity that was just outside the bathroom, he washed his face, brushed his teeth then, grimacing, biting his lower lip in concentration as another siege of gas rumbled through his stomach.

“Marcie, ‘please’ baby, I’ve ‘got’ to get in there!”

The idea exciting him— even considering Marsha’s condition— earlier Mitchell had thought, Maybe I’ll sleep naked tonight.

But now, seeing the reflection of his red, welted, protruding stomach in the mirror, digging through his bag until he found and put on the pajamas he ‘almost’ didn’t bring.

Sitting on the edge of the bed. Crossing his legs and biting his lip in concentration he stared at the bathroom door till…

Hearing the toilet flush…

The door opened and Marsha came out.

Rushing past. Closing the door and lowering his bottoms he sat on the toilet… But with an ‘extreme’ show of willpower held himself back, because, She’s ‘got’ to hear! Go slow. Try not to be too loud! he thought as….

To newlywed’s what is probably one of the first realizations that there is more, ‘much’ more to marriage then just romance…

Oh, my God! Mitchell thought, as…

The pain pill having taken effect, Marsha tried not to laugh as…

Holding his head in his hands, Oh, my God! As…

The harsh sounds reverberated through the room, as…

Unable to hold back, Marsha put her head under a pillow to stifle the sound of her laughter.

Through…

Washing his hands he delayed as he tried to think of what to say, if anything... Then came out of the washroom.

Sitting up on the bed, Marsha did her best not to smile.

Embarrassed. Looking at her sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he said, holding his hands forward, chest high, palms up as though to apologize. “Guess I, uh… I guess I had a little gas.”

“I guess…” Closing her mouth, holding her lips tightly compressed, fighting back laughter. “…you did! But you don’t…” Unable to hold back any longer, laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. “You don’t have to apologize, Mitchie, it’s a natural,” she gasped, “body function… I guess.”

“Oh, yeah...” walking to the bed, climbing in, “… ‘everyone’ sounds like an erupting volcano on their wedding night.” He began to laugh. “My ‘God’, Marcie, I wanted them out of here! I had so much gas I thought I was going to float up to the ceiling and I couldn’t go in there…” motioning to the washroom “...with them all in here.”

“Yeah, me, too. I thought they were ‘never’ going to leave.”

“Marcie...” he said seriously, “...you were beautiful tonight. You had to be the most beautiful bride God ever made… I love you!”

Laying onto her side, facing him. “You, too, Mitchie.”

“Bride?” Smiling, he lay closely next to her.

“No, dummy...” smiling back, “...groom, and I love you, too.”

Their lips touched softly, then, with more passion and as he hugged her he felt her soft, warm breasts pressing through her pajamas onto his chest and she felt the hard prod of his penis — poking through his pajamas— against her thigh.

“Honey.”

“Yes?” Thinking of ‘the other way to skin a cat,’ looking into Marsha’s eyes.

“I took a pill and I’m ‘so’ tired, and I just want to go to sleep.”

“Sure, baby, I know.”

Moving his body back. Stuffing his penis back through the fly of his pajamas to be held between his thighs.

Reaching above the headboard, turning the light off.

“Good-night, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, Mitchie.”

In the eyes of the law, and…

In the eyes of God…

On this night Marsha and Mitchell Lipensky did in fact sleep ‘spoon fashion’.

And so began…

The first day of their lives.

 Next “Becoming” excerpt in sequence: "Meeting Each Other"