As somebody who’s admittedly never made a chasunah before, I don’t understand why we have to come so early for pictures. My sister got married last month, and my mother told us beforehand that we had to come three hours early.
“It’s not up to me,” she said. “It’s the photographer.”
It happens to be that the photographer is a yekke, plus the chosson and kallah both have big families, K”H.
When I was growing up, pictures took about an hour per side, tops. Now they’re three hours? Technology was supposed to speed things up! Was it because back then they took fewer pictures because every single one had to be developed individually, whereas nowadays it’s not a huge deal, so they take thousands? Maybe. My parents got a link with 1300 pictures from this wedding, whereas after my own wedding, we got about 300 proofs.
For the most part, somehow or other, I’ve never once made it in time for pictures. We always manage to show up late, and my parents always manage to get annoyed, because the photographer randomly calls out, “Brothers of the kallah!” and I’m not there, on call. And then I show up, and my father gives me an angry face, smiles for a picture, and goes back to angry face, then back to smiling.
It’s not easy parenting more than one kid.
Because there has to be a picture of the kallah’s brothers. This is a very important picture that no one’s going to put in any album or ever look at or think about again. “Look, it’s the kallah’s brothers! And they’re all making faces!”
Technically, the photographer can make it take as long as he wants. He just has to keep calling out different combinations of relatives and taking pictures of them. It’s not like any of them are going to end up in the album anyway, but he can keep going. He can be like, “Grandmothers’ brothers’ uncles of the kallah!” And all the grandmothers’ brothers’ uncles of the kallah will come in. And make faces.
Also, there are certain shots that the photographer absolutely has to get over the course of the evening: the kallah and her sisters, someone’s baby, the chosson leaning sideways on one of his knees, the chosson and just his mother, the chosson and his father shaking hands like they’re just encountering each other and did not expect to see each other at this wedding, the chosson and one of his sisters standing awkwardly three feet away from each other, the kallah staring at her flowers instead of at the camera, the chosson and all of his friends and one relative who doesn’t realize it’s a “friends” shot, the chosson cutting challah, the chosson being lifted on a chair that is pitching forward, the back of the car that the chosson and kallah are leaving in,the chosson’s father writing a check
But seriously, once they’re married, who wants a picture of just the chosson on his own? The kallah? She can take plenty of pictures. Yet the photographer has to take 15,000 pictures of just the chosson and just the kallah, so that the first few pages of the album can tell a story.
“Look, there he is. All alone. How sad. He’s smiling, though.”
“And there she is, staring at her flowers.”
“Hey, he found a ring!”
“And here are most of his brothers!”
But my parents kept pushing us to come on time, so this time we finally managed to do that, and my kids were in four pictures! There was the picture of our nuclear family, one of just my kids, one of everyone and the kallah but no chosson, and one of my parents and all their grandchildren, most of whom are crying.
I’m not saying my kids should be in more pictures. The wedding is not really about them. I’m saying that most of the pictures don’t involve them, and every second in their suits is exponentially increasing the chances that they’re going to develop holes in the knees.
Plus these pictures are going to be outdated in three hours. When will we ever want a picture with the entire family and just the kallah? In case it doesn’t work out?
She’s wearing a gown.
Of course, the fact that the chosson and kallah can’t see each other before the chuppah complicates things.
In the old days, they used to take a lot of the family pictures right after the chuppah, and all the guests would sit around unsupervised and eat course after course waiting for the dancing to start. Sometimes the caterers would even add courses. But even that wasn’t ideal, because the family would have to gather everyone up from all the corners of the hall, and people would keep wandering off. “Okay, now brothers-in-law of the kallah… Where’s Raffy?”
“He didn’t want to miss the knish course.”
But nowadays, they try to take all the pictures before the wedding, and they just leave a gap next to the kallah so they could Photoshop the chosson in later.
Yeah, that’s what the couple wants for a picture of one of the most special moments of their lives. There you are, surrounded by your whole family, and your chosson is Photoshopped in. Hovering or something. Maybe they can make it look like he’s a different size than everyone else. Why not have him towering over everyone in the background?
So what I want to know is, if they can take a picture without the chosson and Photoshop him in later, how come they can’t take a picture without me and my wife and Photoshop us in later? We stand in the back anyway.
Mordechai Schmutter is a freelance writer and a humor columnist for Hamodia and other magazines. He also has seven books out and does stand-up comedy. You can contact him at [email protected].
