In our case, the police were coming to help us, thank G-d, but historically, this wasn’t always so

As told to Miriam Klein Adelman

The spacious backyard was set for a modest party. There were several tables draped in festive white fleur-de-lis patterned tablecloths, spaced 20 feet from each other. There was a table set on the other side of the low white picket fence in the neighbor’s yard, and one more set in a third neighbor’s yard.

Each table had a fresh sprig of multihued daisies in a small vase as a centerpiece, and each place setting held a plate of home-cooked (with sanitized gloves) food. The chuppah was a freestanding metal pole canopy with an embroidered burgundy velvet top. Despite the simplicity, a lot of effort had gone into this impromptu affair.

Due to the raging COVID-19 pandemic, our daughter’s wedding took place with a minyan in a backyard instead of the preplanned 400-guest wedding in a grand hall. Except for the masked photographer who was requested not to come close to the guests, and a container of wipes for the witnesses to disinfect themselves before signing the kesubah, it felt like a wedding from yesteryear. Oh, and the fact that my wife and I had to keep urging people to keep a distance from each other, and my daughter and new son-in-law had six-foot-long jump ropes so they could dance with people from a distance.

The joy of the wedding wasn’t tempered by the limited venue, the lack of throngs of people; the small scale had a beauty all its own. However, other emotions did weave their way in. We wished there could be Shabbos sheva brachos. We wished we could have danced more, we wished all our loved ones could have been there to celebrate in person, not just in spirit via Zoom.