Dear Readers,
Our generation is plagued with a shidduch crisis and a divorce crisis. Years ago, two shidduchim came through my column, one directly and one indirectly. Instead of blaming the singles who struggle with this crisis, I want to try to help by publishing a column to encourage people to try to think of shidduchim, set people up, and invite older singles to their Shabbos table. I had a young man who reached out to me asking me to print his information and see if women will respond to his email directly. I am starting with this request. I do not know this gentleman. However, it is my effort to give singles a chance to reach out directly. Please research any person printed in the column. Please respond directly to this gentleman. If anyone else would like to have a brief description of themselves with an email address printed in my column, please email your information to my column.
My name is Shmuel Ross, I’m a frum working boy and I read and enjoy your column a great deal. I was interested in the type of girl that you mentioned in last week’s column.
I have a sweet singing voice, and I love to make people laugh. I write poems that people praise and compose countless melodies and songs. I have a warm and pleasant character, a strong sense of integrity and personal responsibility, and a work ethic that is second-to-none.
The woman who wrote into your column a couple of weeks ago seems like a good fit for me. My contact info is included, please reach out if you like [email protected].
Dear Dr. Yael,
Each week your column contains tales of woe. Here’s a happy letter.
Next week my wife and I will be married 55 years. Of course, family will gather and we will celebrate.
Here’s how it all began. I met my wife in my own house. We had a gathering of a few high school friends. One brought a girl he had met at a wedding. She lived in our town only a few miles away. At the end of the evening, needing a ride, we drove her home.
A few weeks later I thought of her. I knew where she lived, but didn’t have her phone number. So one night, I just drove to her house and knocked on the door. The way I like to tell it, in the biggest mistake of her life, her mother let me in. I liked the girl and invited her on a date.
On March 6,1964, I took her on that date. She had recently turned 16. I was almost 18. My high school’s basketball team made the County Tournament. We had a good team and were favored to go deep in the tournament. We drew a lower ranked team as our first opponent. Unfortunately we played poorly that night and they did not. We lost. Despite this inauspicious beginning, I and this girl were soon going steady. Before long, I knew this was the girl I would trust with the rest of my life. Two years later we were engaged. And two years after that we married. My rabbi cautioned me about a mixed marriage. She’s Sephardic and I’m Ashkenazi. The only problem, predictably, was the naming of our first child. She wanted to name him after her living father. I flatly refused saying you knew who I was when you married me. You can’t complain now.
We had a second son. I never lectured our boys about being Jews. I took them to Sabbath services. It obviously worked. They both married Jewish. They both belong to synagogues. The older grandchildren were bar and bat mitzvahed. They still go to shul. The younger ones are in programs for children at their temple. The first grandson was named for her then-deceased father.
We each became close with the other’s family. In an early job, I divided time between here and San Juan. I picked up some Puerto Rican Spanish. Back then some first generation Ladino speakers were still alive. Their Spanish was ancient, my Spanish is modern. Nonetheless I learned about the old country.
Recently, somehow I contracted viral pneumonia. For two days I was close to death. Working with the doctors, my wife participated in the decision making. She authorized a treatment that carried risk. As they wheeled me away, sedated, she whispered in my ear, “don’t leave me.” I wouldn’t dare. The procedure worked. My vision of almost 60 years prior turned out to be right. My trust was rewarded. She saved my life.
People want to know. How do you have a successful marriage that lasts so long. The first step is easy to say, hard to do. Pick the right one in the first place. Many people spend a lifetime trying without success. Don’t forget, you also have to be that person’s right one. Marriage is a two way street.
Secondly, newly married we agreed, no matter what happens, we will work it out. Inevitably, things happen. Abandoning the marriage was never a consideration.
And finally, remember the sage advice of Don Vito Corleone. A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man. Every day, and I mean every day, I played with my boys as they grew up. The greatest reward in my life is seeing how wonderful they are with their children. Baruch Hashem those apples did not fall far from the tree.
The first son married into a wonderful family. The machatonim have a big house. We gather frequently. Jewish holidays, secular holidays, birthdays, etc. We are one family and spend time together.
I am already planning a gala celebration for the sixth of March 2024. The sixtieth anniversary of the day my life began.
A Happy Man
Dear Happy Man,
Thank you so much for sharing this wonderful story with us. May Hashem grant you many more happy and healthy years together. You and your wife are lucky to have each other, and it is so special that you cherish each other. Happy anniversary and hatzlacha with everything!
