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Wedding

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By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

The montage played in my mind even before I stepped out of the car at the Old Field Club last weekend. My father and older brother were pedaling ahead of me, too fast for my thick, stocky legs to keep pace. My younger brother and mother were behind me, too slow for my taste and my level of impatience.

“Pe-dal fa-ster,” I recalled grimacing through crooked, gritted teeth, hoping that I could hear whatever magic words my father and older brother were exchanging.

Pushing on a bicycle that didn’t have any gears and struggling against a wind that always seemed to be blowing in my face, I only caught up to them when they circled back. Determined as I was not to cut corners or shorten my ride, I reached the end of West Meadow Beach, stopped for a few seconds to rest my legs and restarted the pursuit.

I could also picture the numerous times I stood on the shore, searching for the perfect skimming rock, bringing a collection to the water’s edge and waiting my turn to try to send a rock far from shore.

More dramatic weather scenes also played in my head, as I pictured waves frozen in place by a prolonged stretch of cold weather. I’m sure I love winter beaches because of those moments when I felt like I owned the isolated sand sculpted by the same powerful wind whose fingers tried to reach through any holes in my coat or open air spaces to stab at exposed skin.

After heavy rainstorms, I recalled stopping on my ten-speed bike, staring at the flooded road that turned the road into a canal.

And then there was last Saturday, as I drove up to the entrance to the club, waiting for a valet to park my car and to celebrate the wedding of the son of a close friend and former coworker of my wife.

We entered the club, took our glass of champagne and made our way to the benches outside, where other people my wife knew greeted her and compared notes about the changes in their lives since they last saw each other.

While overlooking the water, we listened as my wife’s friend’s son, whom I recall seeing years earlier eating ice cream and “making memories,” exchanged vows each of them wrote to mark this incredible occasion. My wife’s friend’s son expressed his eagerness to start his own family.

I watched carefully as my wife’s friend had a perma-grin plastered on her ageless face, reveling in this couple that seemed to melt into each other’s arms for their first dance. The family I didn’t know at all also seemed pleased, albeit in a more buttoned down and restrained way, as they clapped for the happy couple.

Then, of course, the music, which served as a starter’s gun for my wife and me at these events, began, sending us vaulting out of our seats and onto the dance floor.

Life was so different for me now, as an appreciative guest for this loving event, but also for the world. People took out their cell phones to take pictures of this endless love, they exchanged cell phone numbers, and smiled at a camera atop a giant mirror on the dance floor that developed a sequence of photos.

Several grandparents enjoyed the celebration, beaming with pride at their children and grandchildren.

They likely had even more memories flooding through their mind than I, as they could recall the birth of their own children and grandchildren, with yet another magical turn of the time wheel to the next generation.

When these grandparents were considerably younger, they couldn’t have attended such a wedding, as the loving couple are both men. 

Here they were, supporting their grandson, who floated across the room with his husband and expressed his keen appreciation for the guests who came to celebrate this momentous day.

I wonder what ways the world might change between now and when we, if we’re fortunate enough, get to celebrate a similar event for future generations.

For me, that night was yet another memory on a familiar road that has served as the backdrop for my life’s journey. Even as I replay the celebration, I can hear the words of several ABBA songs, like “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme” and “Lay all your love on me.”

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By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief,
Publisher

The bride was beautiful. The groom was handsome. The scene was appropriate for a fairy tale. There was love all around. That is the short version of my oldest grandson’s wedding this past week’s end.

Now for the details.

The bride and groom worked out all the specifics themselves. They had plenty of time to do so since he proposed in December of 2021. The magic day, when they would be officially united, was set for 3/23/24. At the time, it seemed a universe away.

Then together they began to plan. And in planning, they enjoyed every prenuptial tradition on the way to the ceremony. 

They decided on a venue. Since they were moving to Orlando, Florida, that seemed like the most appropriate location for the wedding. They visited a number of sites before selecting a grand hotel in an Eden-like setting, with flowering gardens and sculpted waterfalls alongside a lake. They checked out the scene, the food, the rooms and the quality of service before committing. The hotel’s availability then determined the date.

Next, they sent out word of their engagement and charming save-the-date cards that they designed themselves. The cards were uniquely attractive and foretold the creative details that were to follow.

A shower for the bride was a delight last year  in a waterside club in Massachusetts, where the bride grew up. Her childhood friend organized the event that gave both sides of the family a chance to meet, along with some gifts for their home It was postponed once, when the bride-to-be came down with COVID, but was successfully rescheduled for later in the year. Bachelor and bachelorette parties followed.

The actual celebration was to be a four-day affair, fitting for a destination wedding for the guests, 100 of them, who were arriving from different parts of the country. The weather would predictably be warm in Florida, so the festivities would begin with a backyard barbecue at their new home. 

As it turned out, the barbecue changed to a food fest when they realized some 60 people had arrived early and were coming to their house. We sat around in the sunshine (and for me, the shade) in the backyard and inside the screened  porch, enjoying the warmth of both the weather and the company. The event brought the family together, some of whom we had not seen in years. Everyone’s palate was provided for, from southern fried chicken to a limitless selection of salads and vegetables. And delicious cupcakes. The only thing missing was their dog, who was spending the weekend at the kennel.

Next came a welcoming cocktail party Friday night, for which I wore a flowery floor length dress that I bought in Charleston on the way to the wedding. Shopping for it was great fun as we toured the city, my two good friends with whom I was traveling, helping.

And then the big day. The morning and early afternoon were spent in a flurry of hairdresser and make up appointments. Then photographs were snapped. The guests were seated outside, under a covered pavilion next to the lake, and at 5:30 sharp, the wedding procession began. 

I entered on the arm of my second grandson, feeling so fortunate to be there. We were followed by the grandfather of the bride and the bride’s mother. The bride and her father walked around a corner of the lake to the belvedere, and the temperature was perfect, although the breeze was a bit mischievous, blowing off the bride’s headpiece as she was reciting her vows. 

In a move that laid waste to the mother-in-law stereotype, the much loved and respected mother of the groom was asked to be the officiant, and she did a wonderful job, explaining parts of the ritual and leading the ceremony. The vows the couple then read to each other referred to the love they have shared over the past seven years since they met in college. There were not many dry eyes by the end. My son, a new father-in-law, beamed.

We, the onlookers and well wishers, basked in the affection they offered  each other and marveled at the miracle and the sweetness of love.

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Metro photo

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

I have never been as happy to hear a Madonna song as I was this weekend.

Let me back up. My family and I attended our second familial wedding of the last three months. This one was a destination wedding in Ithaca, New York.

Stepping out of the rental car at the hotel on campus, I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, as shorts, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt weren’t sufficient for the cooler upstate air.

In the hours before the ceremony on Saturday, my son, brother-in-law, his grown sons and I threw a tiny gift shop Nerf ball around on the baseball field, while surrounded by a visual collage of multi-colored foliage. That tiny football was probably the best $7.50 I’ve ever spent at a wedding.

With the wedding in the hotel, we only had to push an elevator button to get to the correct floor.

The bride and groom exchanged vows that they hadn’t previously shared with each other. Not too surprisingly after dating for close to a decade, the vows included many of the same references to things they each enjoyed about their time together, including dancing in the kitchen while making dinners, watching TV shows together during college, and running to the clock tower and back.

During the cocktail hour, I excused myself from my social circle to go to the bathroom, where I overheard the first of two unusual restroom conversations. The groom and his young cousin were chatting.

“You know the secret to a successful marriage?” the young man asked, eager to share the accelerated wisdom he’d accrued during his short life.

“What’s that?” the groom asked gamely.

“Separate vacations,” the sage young man suggested.

“Hmm, well,” the groom continued, “thanks so much for coming. I appreciate it.”

“My mom said my grandparents would have wanted us to come, so we came,” the unfiltered young man added.

Fortunately, neither of them could hear me inhale sharply.

Listening to the toasts and comments from the parents of the bride and groom, each side seemed to think the new member of the family would help soothe their partner. Perhaps, that says something about the way the bride and groom interact with their parents?

After dinner and before the music started, I returned to the restroom. This time, a man was standing at the sink, washing his hands.

“Out of respect for the gentleman who just walked in, I’m going to end our conversation about poop,” he said to a friend in the stall.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be leaving soon,” I offered, not wanting to interrupt.

“It’s okay,” he added. “We were done.”

Returning to the ballroom, I raced to the dance floor once the music started. My wife, children and I love to dance, with each of us smiling and shimmying as we jump, sway and sing the lyrics of the music. Somehow, our daughter knows the words to just about every song at most of these events, singing and shouting them to her cousin’s girlfriend, who has the same encyclopedic knowledge of modern music. I chime in with the chorus, while our son glides around, often with his arms in the air.

And here’s where Madonna came in. After bending my knees and swaying to numerous rap songs I had never heard before, I was thrilled to hear the familiar intro to a Madonna hit.

Buoyed by throwback sounds from an earlier decade, I threw myself around the floor, crooning for all I was worth.

When the rap songs returned, I scanned the floor and saw the bride, groom and their friends sharing their euphoria for the moment and for their familiar music. While Frank Sinatra never made an appearance, the happy couple were clearly doing it their way.

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wedding table

By Daniel Dunaief

Daniel Dunaief

The son of my wife’s sister, my nephew, is older than I was when I met him.

It’s not so surprising, then, that he would be getting married, especially not after a long-term relationship that transitioned years ago from a matter of if to when in terms of marriage.

Still, it’s hard to imagine the next generation entering these milestone moments when I feel like my wife and I only recently got married, which clearly wasn’t such a recent event.

One of my first memories of my nephew, who was six years old when I babysat for his younger brother while he and his parents went to see “The Lion King” on Broadway, was of this enthusiastic child who wanted to participate in adult conversations.

On his way out the door, he promised to give me a thorough review of the show. While he was gone, his brother and I called my future wife. His younger brother pretended he was me and kept asking me what to say. Fortunately for him, my wife is as playful as he, and went along with the gag for a giggle-fest of a conversation.

A few years later, my sister-in-law told me she overheard her children discussing my marriage to their aunt. Her younger son was excited to add the title “uncle” to my name, while the older one wasn’t sure he wanted to call me “uncle.”

Not eager to stand on ceremony, I told him he could continue to call me “Dan,” although the uncle title quickly became a natural part of our interactions.

Over the years, I have reveled in his achievements, enjoyed hearing about his adventures, travels and jobs and have admired the joy he feels when he spends time with his fiancée.

He laughs, shares stories and dances with her at family parties.

With their wedding approaching in the next few days, it’s hard to believe that my wife and I will be members of the older generation.

Unlike my uncles and aunts, who attended my brother’s wedding in the summer and, generally, passed on my wedding in the winter, my wife and I have every intention of spending most of the wedding on the dance floor.

Yes, we’re older, and we likely won’t have the same modern dance moves that the next generation will likely display, but we love a great party and, what’s more, we love to celebrate life together.

As I did when we had a party for our daughter’s 16th birthday, I will likely sweat through my button down shirt and will probably drape my suit jacket over the back of the chair and won’t touch it until we’re clearing out the room.

At some point, someone with a video camera may come over to my wife and me, asking us to share our thoughts on this auspicious occasion.

I’m sure I will think about my antediluvian uncle, who was asked a similar question at my brother’s wedding.

After a long, reflective pause and with his customary flat affect, he looked directly into the camera. “It’s a sense o’ hyum’ah,” he suggested.

Listening to his wife whose voice cut through concrete as she exclaimed about everything from how much she loved my younger brother the best to how wonderful and delicious the food at any event was, I could see the importance of humor.

While my wife and I have reveled in making each other laugh, I don’t think I’ll repeat that line, even if it does apply, in part because it belongs to my uncle.

Instead, I may tell them to dance as often as they can and to enjoy the little moments, like the sound of a child’s laughter or the excited review of a Broadway show from a six-year-old.

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The happy couple, Edward Guida and Nicole Hartstein-Guida with Nicole’s mom, Jane. Photo from Gurwin Jewish
In a clinical setting, a little room for love

On the 28-bed respiratory care unit at the Gurwin Jewish Nursing & Rehabilitation Center in Commack, one might not expect to see twinkle lights, champagne bubbles and a chuppa, but that’s just what the staff and residents saw when Nicole Hartstein and her then fiancé, Edward Guida, surprised Nicole’s mother, Jane Hartstein, with a wedding.

From left, Rabbi David Altman, groom’s mom Mary Guida, Nicole Hartstein-Guida, Edward Guida and Mons. Joseph Calise

Jane, who was completely shocked upon seeing her daughter in her wedding dress, has been on a ventilator for more than three years, living at Gurwin for almost that long after a stroke. “I can’t believe this,” she said when she was wheeled into the decorated family room on the unit. “I’m just so happy, I can’t believe they did this.”

According to Nicole, she and her fiancé wanted her mother to be part of their wedding, but knew she could not make the trip to the New Jersey wedding venue on Sunday, May 26. So instead, they decided to get married at Gurwin prior to their scheduled wedding and reception, officially changing their anniversary, if only for those in the know. 

The “wedding” went on as planned at the West Mount Country Club in Woodland Park, New Jersey (and Jane live-streamed it on her TV at Gurwin), but Nicole and Edward knew that the important ceremony had already taken place.

For that ceremony, Gurwin staff transformed the family room on the respiratory care unit into a wedding chapel, complete with lights, Mr. & Mrs. signs and tulle. And when Jane was wheeled in, she burst into tears, so happy to be able to share in her daughter’s joy.

The happy couple

When Nicole saw her mother’s tears, she had to wipe her own away, as well. “I know you wanted to be at our wedding, so we’re bringing our wedding to you,” she said, hugging her mom before she took her place to walk down the makeshift “aisle” outside the family room.

“A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri played and staff and residents watched as Nicole was escorted by her uncle, James Jacobs, into the family room where a small group of her family, including her mom, waited with the priest and rabbi. Nicole beamed as the ceremony made her officially Mrs. Hartstein-Guida.  “This is amazing,” she said.

An eight-year relationship lead up to this point, and Edward knew that his bride-to-be needed her mother to be at her wedding. “I just want Nicole to be happy, and I want her mom to be happy, too. We knew we wanted to do this,” he said.

As the kiss was exchanged and congratulations were expressed, Jane sat watching the festivities. “I can’t believe it,” she said, tearing up. “This is the best gift anyone could ever have given me.”

Photos from Gurwin Jewish

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This is the season for speeches. We’re about to enter the graduation and wedding time of year, when principals, best men, maids of honor and valedictorians stand in front of a group of people and share their thoughts during these momentous occasions.

For those about to grab the microphone, I’d like to offer my top 10 list of things not to do in a speech — in reverse order.

10. Don’t make inside jokes that no one, outside of your best friend and maybe your sibling, understands. Looking at your friend after you’ve made a joke that no one gets and pointing back and forth between this other person and you only endangers that friendship.

9. Don’t make a speech without practicing. Find someone who can be helpful and not someone who thinks you shouldn’t change anything you do, ever. That honest person might prevent you from saying, “The groom is so lucky. He gets to sleep with Karen — I always wanted to sleep with Karen. I can’t wait to hear about it.”

8. Don’t correct yourself on small details, such as, “Remember when we had that school snowball fight in second grade? No, wait it was first grade, right? No, no, it was second grade. I was right the first time.” Most people won’t care about those details. They’d rather you got it wrong than hear you go play a one person game of memory ping-pong.

7. Don’t forget to thank everyone you should thank. You can acknowledge your friends for helping you get through those tough years, the writers of your favorite movies for giving you a chance to laugh, and the woman at the supermarket for encouraging you to submit an application that got you into a summer program. Never forget to thank your parents, any relatives who are in attendance and the teachers who somehow managed to educate you despite your insistence that their subject was irrelevant.

6. Don’t imagine that alcohol makes you a better singer. It doesn’t. Besides, there’s always an enormous collection of cellphones at any wedding. You can’t erase that horrible rendition of “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling.” Ever. Strangers will come up to you and screech at you.

5. Don’t quote someone else extensively. Winston Churchill was a tremendous speechmaker, JFK said some memorable things, too, as did Martin Luther King Jr. Audiences can read and have no desire to hear you butcher an extensive collection of words someone else delivered.

4. Don’t try to sell something. You’re there to support the graduate, the bride and groom and numerous families. This isn’t the time to suggest that people moved by your speech can pick up tissues at your store
because you sell the softest tissues in town.

3. Don’t talk about how difficult it is for you to give a speech. Chances are the audience supports you
anyway, so there is no need to tell them, over and over again. If you aren’t particularly good at public speaking, they’ll notice.

2. Don’t look down at your poorly written notes during the entire speech. If you look up once in a while, you won’t sound like you’re muttering anecdotes and advice in your sleep.

1. Don’t give a long speech. The most important part of any speech is to keep it short. Sure, you might be funny and have some words of wisdom that people will remember. And, yes, you might recall an
anecdote that sheds light on the people in your class. People want to eat dessert, go to a party, or throw their ridiculous square hats with tassels into the air for the annual picture of stupid hats in the air. A good rule of thumb for speeches: When in doubt, leave it out.

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Mather President Kenneth Roberts (left) and former hospital administrator Arthur Santilli watch as Joanne and Ray Wolter cut a cake for their 40th wedding anniversary. Photo from Mather Hospital

What was supposed to be a special day for a Sound Beach resident and her husband-to-be 40 years ago took a sudden turn with little time to spare. Thanks to the efforts of her community hospital, the day became arguably even more memorable.

On May 14, 1976, a day before Ray and Joanne Wolter were supposed to be married at Infant Jesus Roman Catholic Church in Port Jefferson, a giant monkey wrench was thrown into their plans. Her father, William P. Strauch Jr., walked into the family’s home and told the bride and her relatives, who were beginning to assemble for the wedding the next day, that he had just been in a car accident a few blocks away, and he had walked home.

“He was a tough guy,” Wolter said of her father at a 40th anniversary celebration at John T. Mather Memorial Hospital on Tuesday, where members of the Wolter family and hospital administration from then and now gathered to remember that unusual day.

After some convincing, Strauch boarded an ambulance to Mather Hospital, where it was found he had a punctured lung and a few broken ribs as a result of the crash. Doctors told him he wouldn’t be able to attend his only daughter’s wedding the following day. The hospital’s staff quickly sprung into action.

“I didn’t even have a chance to think beyond ‘oh my goodness,’ and somebody was there at my side offering me assistance and offering me a solution,” Wolter said.

Ray and Joanne Wolter’s 1976 wedding was the first at Mather Hospital. Photo from the hospital
Ray and Joanne Wolter’s 1976 wedding was the first at Mather Hospital. Photo from the hospital

Nurses from the emergency room spoke to then-Associate Administrator Arthur Santilli, who has since retired but made a surprise appearance at the celebration Tuesday.

“When she came to me and talked to me about this, I said, ‘Let’s offer them Mather,’” Santilli said Tuesday. “The wedding was an uncommon thing but anytime our community had a need, we stepped forward — as they still do.”

The wedding took place in a conference room at Mather the next day. A few weddings have occurred at Mather since, but the Wolters’ marriage on May 15, 1976, was the first time the hospital served as a wedding chapel. Nurses prepped Strauch, dressing him in his light blue tuxedo jacket with black pants, white shirt and black bow tie. When it came time for his daughter to be married, Strauch walked her down the aisle, and Joanne Wolter said there wasn’t a dry eye in the room.

“The party I hardly remember, but the wedding piece I remember crystal clear and it was thanks to you folks and your compassion and your quick action,” the wife said Tuesday, as she thanked hospital administration for helping to make her wedding day happen.

Ray Wolter said his wife frequently comments on her favorite photo of her and her father from that day, which is displayed in their current home in Farmingville.

“Thanks to the leadership in this place, we were able to celebrate a day that could have been very difficult, especially for my wife who remembers that day — of course I do, too — being able to walk down the aisle with her father,” he said.

Joanne Wolter remembered the craziness of those 24 hours, and the difficulties of contacting 150 guests to let them know about what was going on in an era before cell phones. The reception went on as planned at The Wagon Wheel in Port Jefferson Station, which is now The Meadow Club.

“Our bond with Mather Hospital is a strong one … even now,” she said in an invitation to Tuesday’s anniversary event. “It’s our community hospital. It always will be. Every year we remember this day and how Mather went the extra mile for my family.”

Santilli downplayed the importance of his quick decision-making and accommodating actions: “We fix what we can,” he said.

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