Yetta the Yenta*, Part II

As the wedding grew closer, Yetta grew angrier and angrier. Her curse was not working. The bride did not gain weight as Yetta prayed for nightly. Neither did the weather show signs of snowing in the middle of June.
Soon she couldn’t even speak without fuming on and on about the humiliation.
“Vat did I do to deserve zis?”
She swung a gasping herring into Saul the fishmonger’s face. Saul, used to flailing fish, didn’t even flinch but crossed him arms in his calm manner and took a deep breath. The smell never bothered him.
“Mrs. Mudrich, as I always say…”
Saul had the tone of a rabbi, and should have been one, had it not been for the terrible stink that he developed during puberty which never went away, hence his current occupation. “Forgive and forget.”
“Vat, forget not getting paid?!” Yetta's voice rose to a pitch audible only to dogs and apparently, fishmongers, “Zen perhaps you vill forget zis fish zat I take from zis store!” Saul sighed and Yetta stormed down the street, unpaid herring in-hand.
The wedding, now only a week away, was announced in the local paper.
Mr. and Mrs. Seymour Rosen
are proud to announce the wedding
of their lovely, only daughter Shana to Bernard Kaplan.
At B’nai Tikvah …
May they produce many grandchildren…
While cutting up the newspaper announcements in a blind fury, Yetta suddenly had an idea. She would get paid -- oh yes she would -- or the wedding would not happen.
Yetta arose at the crack of dawn on the big day. She tied on her best lace headscarf, pulled up her silk knee stockings, put on her finest powder blue suit and crept down the darkened streets of northeast Philly towards B’nai Tikvah. She let herself in through the always unlocked backdoor and into the sanctuary. Dawn’s light squinted through the high windows enough for Yetta to make her way onto the bimah and behind the enormous stone Arc where the Torah was kept.
Then Yetta waited. And waited. Morning pushed away the dawn, and Yetta waited like a cat ready to pounce. Joel the handyman came to set up the wedding chairs, and still Yetta stood frozen behind the arc. The whole town began to file into the sanctuary but stiff as a statue Yetta kept hidden.
Finally the Rabbi arrived and the ceremony began. Shana walked down the aisle and circled her groom seven times. They both said all the right blessings, and the rabbi ready to get to the party, reached down for the ceremonial glass-to-be-broken, hidden underneath the ark, but instead grabbed a hold of Yetta’s leg. She sprung into action and jumped in front of the nearly-newlyweds.
“Lord, Jehovah, Almighty ONE!” The Rabbi tipped over backwards in surprise, losing his yarmulke and murmuring the various names of God.
Yetta shook the ceremonial glass and cried out, “This glass vill not be broken, until I get my respects.”
Bernie turned white and Shana looked down at her newly manicured nails. The congregation started buzzing in the background.
“He never paid her, and she matched them up.”
“No?”
“Yes, he’s cheap, that Bernie. Poor Shana.”
Yetta was back on top, in full form. And from then on she didn’t just go to the weddings she matched, she sat at the head table.

*footnote: Yetta Mudrich was actually my great grandmother. She was a matchmaker, she even had business cards, and she did stop a wedding mid serivce because she wasn't paid. The other stuff, just a little embellishment.
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Thanks for all the comments by the way. They were totally unexpected. I really didn't think anyone was reading anymore. So, thanks.

On other fronts, I have started to get that travelers itch. What is wrong with me that I can't stay in the same place for too long? I am reading a book called Vagabonding by Rolf Potts. Potts encourages quitting your job and jaunting off somewhere far away. I see my mother fainting as I type. He quotes a lot of Thoreau.

"If one ventures confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours. He will put some things behind, will pass an invisible boundary; new, universal, and more liberal laws will begin to establish themselves around and within him." --Walden.

So Mr. Thoreau if I just through myself into the world of unemployment and backpacking adventures, it will pay off in the end? A vertible walk in the woods or the jungle or some congested street in India will lead me to my path? God, if it only was that simple. If I could only get out of my head for long enough to buy the plane ticket and board the 747. And yet, do I really want the life of a nomad?
Take my boss; he travels 99% of his life. He is in one city one Monday, and a different country Tuesday. He is married to his work which seems to be fused to his social life. And he's alone. At that point it seems that travel ceases to be special and joyful and becomes more of a boulder to bear. I guess I am inherently lazy. I just don' t want to work. (Though i didn't particularly enjoy sitting home on my bum either.) Boy this is a whiny post. I will end it with an a wonderful thought. It's almost 2005 and that means a new year and new way of being. I want to change my outlook. Mostly because I see Mikey looking down and shaking his head and whispering in my ear to not be so afraid, to ask questions, to look stupid and ignorant but to learn new things.