Ten Thousand Jews

 

Ten Thousand Jews

I Moved the Scamp to a new storage place on Federal Hwy in Hobe Sound. Cost a bit more than “Roods” but Rood had no spot for us and I had to get it out of there by Friday.

I Went to a commercial storage facility with Stuart Fierman yesterday. It was located near his apartment and would have been convenient for me but it turned out to be mucho buckeroos...$$.

So Stu had a brainstorm and suggested we go to his “temple”.

Why, I asked?

How much were you prepared to pay for storage, he asked me?

I did the math for him. $75 a month x 4 or 5 months= about $300 for the season

Would you be willing to contribute $300 to the Temple to store it there, he asked me?

Uhhhh....I was stumped. I didn’t know what to say. Sounded weird to me, storing my travel trailer back behind the local synagogue??

Uhhhh, I guess, I said, but I dunno, Stu, sounds a little strange to me...just doesn’t feel right.

Just stick with me he assured me. Let me do all the talking, he said as he parked in front of the temple and we went into the air conditioned lobby.

If a good Jew (read: “person”) sees a man in need of help, he must help. That is the basis of Tsadacha or charity. Charity given freely is a mitzvah or law. Charity given freely and anonymously is a blessing. I am no expert on the subject but I believe there is a distinction to be made between Tsadacha and making a deal. Even if the deal benefits all parties it is still a deal! I am not fooling myself that this is charity we are talking about in this particular venture. It might benefit both myself and the temple but it doesn’t feel as good as charity should feel. I get the feeling that Stuart is thinking mitzvah and tax deduction. I am thinking “weird”.

Entering the temple office Stu smiled and joked around with a secretary sitting at her desk. He makes small talk with a couple of members of the temple milling about in the hallway. Stuart has a style all his own. He kibbitzed with Chet a guy I remembered from fifteen years ago when I hung out with Stu and members of the “Brotherhood”. I was building a project (Langone’s house) in North Palm Beach. I was fifteen hundred miles from home and a little bit lonely.  I attended the brotherhood monthly meetings and the pancake breakfasts. I helped them set up the succah and went out to early-bird dinners with them. I was made to feel like one of the guys. Being so far from my home and family it felt nice to belong. I’d thought of Chet as an old man back then and now he appeared ancient. He was a shrunken-in little guy whose head sat nested between his shoulders with no sign of a neck. His upper torso had sunken into his waist. He was six inches shorter than he’d been fifteen years ago. The effect of him waddling along in the halls of the temple made me think of a troll emerging from under a dark bridge. He wanted to talk. There was no time. The secretary of the temple wanted pictures of the Scamp trailer (which I was trying to retrieve from my i-phone). Stuart was pattering on about the benefits of my contribution to the temple. I was barely able to concentrate on the tasks at hand. Conversation with Chet was impossible right then. I felt guilty. I also felt conflicted with Stuart’s pretzel logic and fighting my own inclination to abandon the whole thing. But I am nothing if not in love with Stuart. He is like the older brother I never had. I would do anything for him, up to and including ignoring my own instincts and making an asshole of myself. 

We left the temple that morning with the understanding that the president of the temple would have to approve “the deal”. Later in the day the Rabbi’s blessing was also added to the list of required approvals. There is an old adage that if you have two Jews in a room and you ask them a question that you will get a minimum of three opinions. It is with that truism in mind that I knew this was a lost cause. I was secretly thankful. Thankful that the idiosyncrasies of Judaism would extricate me from my dilemma-to wit: how to back out of this deal without hurting my friend’s feelings.

So, I took the Scamp up to a boat and R.V. Storage facility in Hobe Sound. I decided not to wait for an answer from the president of the temple or a blessing from the rabbi. There will be other times when I can make a contribution to the temple. I will do so anonymously for the joy of giving, not for the purpose of parking my travel trailer. And I will appreciate my friend for his chutzpah and good will the likes of which you could not duplicate if you put ten thousand Jews in a room.

(To My Dear Friend, Stuart. I loved you. RIP)