Fiddler With Out a Roof

I'm off today, and not sure when my








Taken in Prague Adar 5766


next chance to post will be . . .


Despite my inane and obscure clue for my destination , it seems that many people got it right -Italy . . . for camp Gan Yisroel Lithuania.
(The clue was Olives, Pizza and Russian alcohol -written in Korean)

Don't give up on checking back here -as G-d willing I'll put things up when I get the chance . . . but I can't say how often that will be.

As a side note: Someone from LA has been going through my entire archives . . . not that I have a problem -in fact I'm flattered, but perhaps drop me an e-mail so I can know who you are.
mordechai7215 at gmail dot com

I worked over part of a previous post -Wolf and Aranka -the Sky's tears . . .
Enjoy!

On an overcast day in mid-July, Rabbi Mendel Plotke and I went to visit the Jewish residents of a Waterburry Golden Age home.This home was far different from many of the others we had visited -it spoke of a certain class, closer to a Golden Age resort then an convalescent home.

Up the stairs and a left down the hallway brought us to their home, after a brief knock, we ushered in and told make ourselves at home.

We had entered the lives of Wolf and Aranka Z.
After a telling them about ourselves - how Rabbi Mendel and I were Roving Rabbis -recently ordained itinerant Rabbis traveling the Northwest corner of Connecticut searching for Jews, we got asked our host about themselves.They told us that they were survivors of the Holocaust; Wolf was born Sosnowiec, Poland, Aranka in Hungary . . .
I gasped with interest, how wonderful was the hand of G-d with which He demonstrates His Divine Providence for Rabbi Mendel had been twice to Hungary, and I had spent the previous year in Poland.
Mendel leaned over to the aged Aranka,
"Megköszön I-sten." -Thank G-d
What?" she called out, "I can't hear you."
"I said 'Megköszön I-sten'"
"Oh, Megköszön I-sten! You speak some Hungarian? I speak Hungarian -Wolf he speaks Hungarian from when he was in Hungary!"
Giving it a shot, I turned to Wolf,
"Dzień Dobry!" - Hello
"Oh, you speak Polish? Jak sie Pan ma?" -How are you?
"Dzięki B-g!" -Thank G-d
"Tak?" -Yes?
We both broke out in laughter.
"So what are the Polak'en like? Have they changed in the past sixty years?"
"Nope."
"You mean they're still foolish? I remember they would curse a Jew whenever they had the chance! Oddly though, when a Jew passed away they would stand by the funeral with great reverence, doffing their hats haben zei gemacht di tzielem mit di hent -they would cross themselves! Such fools . . . they could never make up their minds!"
We laughed some more.

Wolf, the more vigorous of the two was very outspoken about the need to learn about the past, about the Holocaust. As we spoke the sky began to pour -a deluge of rain, so thick that it was difficult to see out the window. Thunder roared through the air, then was silenced once more by the heavy dance of corpulent rain drops inundating the ground with their aqueous steps.
This was no mere summer's rain - these were the sky's tears for the past.We in turn spoke about the future; of the need to build a Jewish continuity, to involve people in practical mitzvos and increased daily observance.
In truth, our outlooks were not two discordant opinions, but rather two ways of approaching the same issue.
Wolf and Aranka saw it through the lens of the past, all that the journey of their lives had led them to.
We, young and idealistic, saw how the path that Wolf and Aranka had taken must not end, nor cycle back on itself, but rather move on to a greater future.
Our conversation ended, and I chanced a look outside.
The rain had stopped . . . and the sun came out.
































Taken in Euro Disneyland after a storm . . .


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