Ryan Craig CONTRIBUTOR I write about where the puck is going in higher education.
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My wife Yahlin and I got married where we’d met nearly a dozen years earlier: college. Because we were living in New York and both working full-time, we sought help from a New Haven theater set designer who moonlighted as a wedding planner. Or rather, Yahlin sought help. I wasn’t particularly interested in the minutiae of floral arrangements or hors d’oeuvres.
On the day, two hours before the ceremony as Yahlin was dealing with hair and bridesmaids, I walked into the dining hall with my sister and discovered pink as far as my eye could see. Shocked and stunned, I called our wedding planner to see what could be done: “Could you make it a little less pink, less like a Sweet 16 party?” He curtly responded that he was next door in the chapel setting up our chuppah, and had a mind to leave the unfinished chuppah, walk over to the dining hall, and slug me. “Are you seriously comparing my design to a Sweet 16 party?” My heart skipped a beat (and not in a good-wedding way). Fortunately, my sister helped me calm down. Then I apologized and calmed him down and the wedding proceeded apace. Turns out he was absolutely right. By evening, without afternoon light streaming through the dining hall windows, the pink looked terrific. Not at all like a Sweet 16 party. When all was said and done, it was a magical evening and I’d almost recovered from my self-induced near-heart attack (although it took an inordinate amount of time for me to overcome my embarrassment and recount to Yahlin the story of nearly wrecking our wedding).