Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The sun had long since set when I rode up to the old shul. The smell of quiet expectation was in the air. Maariv was aproachin'.
I swung the double doors wide open and walked into the sanctuary. The regulars were all there. Respectfully, they tipped their hats at me, then went back to what they were doin'.
I sidled up to my usual spot...at the front of the minyan, ready to begin the service--
--and then, outta nowhere, there mosies up the most ornery varmint ya done ever see in the whole Midwest--and he was-a gunnin' fer me!
"Hold on there, pardner," I said to him, my hand slowly reachin' fer my siddur, "that there's my spot."
"Not tuh-day, pilgrim," he retorted. "I'm takin' the stand today. I got me a Yahrtzeit."
A Yahrtzeit! Well shiiiiiinolah! Ain't no Yartzeit gonna stand 'tween me and my rightful place.
"A Yartzeit? You got no jurisdiction here, cuz. I'm in the middle-a shloshim."
He didn't like that answer. He didn't like that answer none-attall.
I could see it was gonna come to fisticuffs. I rolled up the sleeves on my blue blazer and prepared for the showdown.
Then, outta nowhere! The Preacher come and stand a-between us!
"Hoooooollllldddd onnnnn brothers!" he said. "I don't think we need tuh resort tuh fightin, here! I think we can resolve this all civil-like. I'm not a rabbi fer nothin', y'know."
And with that, he pronounced his judgment: