The Secret Wedding

I didn’t attend my wedding. True, there was no wedding either; just a wedding dinner after a secret wedding. I was so used to living underground, learning Hebrew and Jewish history, reading samizdat, and participating in secret gatherings, that I could no longer imagine living openly in the USSR. The marriage palaces smelled badly of Soviet power. Chuppot and ketubot were dangerous artifacts, an aggression against the USSR. So, I decided to find out about the registry offices. There were many registry offices in Kiev. I chose the darkest, most dilapidated one, and went with my future wife to that basement. No witnesses were required there, which suited us, the children of the Jewish underground. The clerk at the civil registry office asked us what we wanted in their institution. We explained that we wanted to register our marriage. The clerk was stunned. She remarked in anger that they only register marriages of old people and recommended the marriage center. I saw, in my wife’s dreams, a white wedding dress with a veil, while I pictured pompous palaces with red carpets on white staircases, marching up and down staircases of Soviet officialdom, official speeches, and the red veil of the hated regime.

A month later we came to sign a commitment to live a married life. Not only were we married without witnesses, but we informed almost no one about the change in our marital status. None of our friends, associates, or relatives, with the exception of the closest ones, knew of our...