We went to a family wedding this weekend on the mighty Hudson River. Mary's family is Jewish and a good Jewish wedding is a real wang dang doodle. They drink right at the table. In my family, you had to go out to your truck to drink. Jews dance, too. Even the preacher! The whole thing would be a scandal among my people. I went along with it and raised a bunch of hell too, to be respectful. I kept my hat on during the service so I wouldn't stand out. I enjoyed the preaching. It was in several different languages, like an international flight. I picked up that the word "shalom" means "peace," and the preacher said the root of "shalom" means "to be complete."

Then the bride and groom drank cheap wine in front of everybody. The preacher handed them another glass and they were already so drunk they threw it on the ground and stomped it flat. That got everybody riled up and we all jumped up, went inside and got our own drinks. We never did get back to the ceremony and the preacher left.

After a day with my rowdy Jewish family, eating, drinking, praying, eating, dancing, eating, telling jokes, eating, drinking, dancing some more, eating, and then dancing until the band got fed up and went home, I felt at peace. I felt complete. I sure wasn't hungry.

This little guy danced everybody into the ground. His mama is Jewish. They say that means that he's Jewish. I think they're right about that. If you'd seen him dance, you'd know he damn sure isn't Baptist.

Shalom, y'all. If I keep having this much fun, I might have to convert. I already had the required surgery, but maybe we could rig up something with velcro. Just to make it feel complete.

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