On July 15th, 1984, Rabbi Cherise stood before our family and friends at the Quaker Square Hilton and performed the ceremony that became our wedding day. We had already been legally married on February 3rd, 1984, in Rabbi Eisenberg’s study, but July 15th was the day we chose to celebrate going forward — the day we wanted to mark as ours.

Rich chose the venue after we visited several locations. He wanted us to be married somewhere we could return to in the future, a place with staying power. The Quaker Square Hilton — the original Quaker Oats silos transformed into a hotel — fit his vision perfectly.

And of course, Rich had his own theatrical flair woven into the day. Our invitations looked like playbills, and the confirmation cards resembled theatre tickets. (Yes, the theatre major was showing.) He wanted me to float down the aisle as if walking on a cloud, so he rented a dry ice machine meant to send a soft billow of fog ahead of me. Instead, it froze my mother’s and my mother‑in‑law’s feet in the front row. Moments before the ceremony, the dry ice machine and the video equipment blew the breakers, and Rich was racing through the hotel kitchen trying to get the electricity restored.

As for me, I developed a migraine the night before and was floating on nasal spray and antihistamines. I believe I said, “I do,” but even if I didn’t, I had already done so on February 3rd.

The Honeymoon That Became a Comedy of Errors

We chose Virginia Beach for mid‑July, thinking it would be ideal pre‑hurricane season. To ensure comfort, we booked a brand‑new hotel with an indoor/outdoor pool. When we arrived, we learned the pool wouldn’t be open for another week or two — and the air conditioning was broken with no timeline for repair. Every other hotel was either booked or wildly expensive, so we stayed put. They gave us a fan to circulate the warm air.

Pre‑hurricane season also means 100%
humidity and sudden downpours. On our first walk along the boardwalk, we found
ourselves in an accidental wet‑t‑shirt contest. Between the heat, my migraine,
and the rain, we still managed to enjoy our one true vacation. One of the
highlights was a nearby mall with an ice cream stand that made us feel like
kids again as we picked our flavors.

We spent a week in Virginia Beach, even
driving to Williamsburg and touring it in 100‑degree weather with sheets of
rain pouring down. We walked through the historic streets dripping wet but
oddly refreshed.

When we returned home, my migraine worsened, and I ended up in the ER and then admitted to the hospital. That was my introduction to chronic pain — finally a diagnosis for the relentless ache in my head. I spent the first week after our honeymoon in the hospital and another week recovering at home before attempting to return to work. It didn’t last long. The severity of my migraines meant I began married life on medical disability.

“In sickness and in health” became real for us very quickly. I was fortunate — Rich stood by me, and I learned to live fully even with chronic pain.

A Life Full of Love, Laughter, and Survival

If I ever wrote a book about our life together, it would read like a comedy of errors. And honestly, the comedic parts are what helped us survive. We had our struggles, like everyone, but we chose to face each one together. Sometimes survival is all you can manage, and sometimes it pushes you ahead of the curve. We lived as fully as we could and appreciated what we had — and even what we didn’t.

Our honeymoon was the only true vacation
we ever took. Even then, Rich was working — sales and commission don’t pause
easily. After that trip, we became gun‑shy about travel. Every other journey
was for business or family. We dreamed of Hawaii and of seeing the Northern
Lights, but we never made those trips. And that’s OK. We had our time together,
and I am blessed for it.

Today, some of my friends travel with
other friends, exploring places near and far. I’m not sure if that’s something
I want. I enjoy time with friends and family, but I also enjoy coming home at
the end of the day. Time will tell if that changes. For now, I’m finding my new
pace.

July 15th, 2026 — A Day to Remember

Tomorrow, July 15th, 2026, I will honor how special this day is. I will reflect on the love of my life and on the many people who are no longer here but remain part of me.

My love for Richard is eternal.

Join me as we walk this path together.

#YesICan Coaching with Karen

Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com

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