Day 56: Matchmaker

Above: Carrie and Joseph on Newport Beach in June 1999, the weekend we got engaged.

In some cultures, it is custom for the parents to arrange the marriage, choosing a spouse for their child. Other cultures hire a matchmaker, an older woman in the village who specializes in such pairing of potential partners.

I remember seeing the play Fiddler on the Roof as a young man and cringing at the thought of an arranged marriage. In the song "Matchmaker," Tevya's daugthers sing:

Matchmaker, Matchmaker
Look through your book,
And make me a perfect match

Appalled, I thought "Surely any son or daughter needs to make his own choice." But now I must admit: I am partially the product of an arranged marriage. It's a wonderfully happy marriage and I have momma to thank for it. Here is my story.

At age 21, I returned home from my mission to find I had been betrayed by my betrothed. The woman I thought I would marry had been merrily making other plans. Ever optimistic, my parents encouraged me to date as much as possible during the fall semester at BYU. Young and eager to try out my "commitment pattern" skills in the dating world I set out with a new determination. What better place to drown my doubts than in the dating pool. Unfortunately, my Fall flirtations fell flat. I could go on with the alliteration, but the semester felt more like obliteration. My quest for a partner was going nowhere.

Over the semester break I talked to mom and dad about my frustration. They sprang to action. Mom convened a special family council where all of the siblings were to help address the pressing family issue of "Who Joseph should date."

Each of my younger brothers and sisters chimed in with suggestions that included their friends older siblings, piano teachers, etc. until mom came up with a final list.

One of the names on the list was Carrie Smith. I had met Carrie several months earlier when I visited her home with dad. He was their home teacher and Carrie was an adorable teenager (19 - gasp!) getting ready to leave on a study abroad to London. Now that the semester was over she was home again.

Of course I was skeptical of names pulled together by my parents, but I reluctantly agreed to try out a few dates. After all, picking my own dates had gotten me nowhere during the semester.

I'm not sure if Mom didn't trust me to ask anyone out, or thought I would delay too long, because that Sunday at church she got the ball rolling by asking Carrie out on my behalf. I imagine it went something like this:

Ruthie: Hi Carrie, would you be willing to go on a date with my son?
Carrie: John? Nah. I've been on a date with him before.
Ruthie: No, I have another son.
Carrie: Tom and Bob are too young. Plus I'm their tennis teacher, so that would be awkward.
Ruthie: No, I have another son...

And on it went until mom finally arrived at my name. As it turns out, mom had fortunately asked me to sing during her lesson that Sunday. Carrie attended the lesson and says the singing sealed the deal for her.

The rest of the story is a happy one. To her father's relief, Carrie turned 20 several moths before our wedding. Carrie and I have been married for 11 years now and we often look back thinking we (mostly I) got so lucky. We didn't date that long before we got married, but our match still feels like a perfect one.

Similarly, in Fiddler on the Roof the daughters make an important discovery:

Playing with matches,
a girl can get burned
So bring me no ring...
catch me no catch
Unless [it's] a matchless match!

Thanks mom, for finding me a matchless match.


Above (Left to Right): Sherman and Bobbi Smith, Carrie and Joseph, Ruth Ann "the Matchmaker" and Neil LeBaron