A Meaningful Evening

 So Rabbi Yossi and Nechama invited us for the penultimate night of Passover, and Wifey and I headed to the local liquor store to buy some Stoli Elit, which Yossi informed me on arrival was kosher, but NOT for Passover. Crap. I would have to drink the sweetish wine, which I did, and nearly caused the ruination of Wifey's new car. More on that inelegant anecdote later.

Anyway, we were early, and so I drove us by our first house, just north of the Falls Warehouse District. We recalled how happy we were in that little place --all 1400 square feet of it. The washer and dryer were in a closet right off the family room, and we were just thrilled to have our own machines and not have to use the laundry room at our apartment complex.

We recalled the comical negotiation. Our upper limit was $100K, since my Mom had gifted us $10K and that was our down payment amount. The seller, Rick, who owned a bathing suit store in South Miami, and dated the impossibly attractive models, was asking around $100K. He made the mistake of letting us visit while his blonde girlfriend and his Afghan dog were there -- we were pretty sure the Afghan was brighter.

The girlfriend giggled and said "You know -- he told me he would take $85k but was hoping for $100 hee hee hee." We gave that info to our friend and realtor Sandy, and ended up buying for $86.5K. I was thrilled to buy a house 15% less than what we could afford.

Per Zillow, that little cottage now is worth in the high $600s. Ah, Miami real estate.

Anyway, we drove to the new Rabbinical mansion, and greeted Their Honors, Judges Scott and David, married for years. Another lady was there, a wealthy Spanish Jewess and her American boyfriend, and many of the Rabbi and Nechama's kids.

We ate around the gorgeous table, and after dinner were given cards with 4 questions, to stimulate discussion. What did it mean to be Jewish? What is the meaning of Freedom? What would you tell students protesting now on college campuses? What would you say to the hostages and their families?

Judge Scott told a sad but true tale. He was raised very involved as a Reform Jew, with social justice always a priority. When George Floyd was killed, and the whole Black Lives Matter silliness (my word, not his) began, Scott reached out, by call or text or email, to all of his Black colleagues and friends. He said he saw them and their suffering, and would support their anti-racist causes. He said he was one with them.

They all said how much they appreciated his understanding and empathy.

And then came October 7th. He heard from exactly ZERO of his Black people. Zero. He was betrayed and livid. Why wasn't the worst day for Jews since the Holocaust worthy of similar understanding and empathy?

Well -- he plans to let time pass, and then still reach out. But boy was he hurt.

A fellow sat across from me -- Israeli tech guy -- IDF fighter pilot veteran. His wife talked about freedom -- how though Pinecrest is beautiful and calm, she doesn't feel as free here as in Israel because of her Jewishness. She has a child in the Israeli Air Force, and is less worried about her than her kid at UNC Chapel Hill. How awful is that?

Her husband explained the technical side of the Iranian attack, how it was swatted away, and how Israel responded. He also reminded us that the US is the ONLY world superpower now -- they could end all the silliness if they chose. He said the militaries of our nation and Israel's are VERY close -- much more so than the press reports (The generals know who each other's mistresses are).

He said it was a matter of time before Hamas will be defeated -- but he's embarrassed it's taken so long.

Mendel, the eldest son, talked about how a divided Jewish people invites the Big Man's wrath -- the second Temple destruction by the Romans followed a period strife among the Jews, and before October 7, Israel was more divided than at any time in Her history, since 1948. Was the Big Man teaching Her a lesson?

Anyway, it was a delightful night, until we were getting ready to leave, and I felt awful stirrings. I drove home VERY fast, not mentioning why to Wifey, lest she pepper me with questions about how I felt which would have made things worse.

Instead, I took a red light as no traffic was there, and made it home fast enough to avoid ruining Wifey's new/old Lexus. Thankfully, like all things, it too hath passed.

But no more sweet wine -- vodka for me.

And hopefully peace sooner than later for my Tribe's homeland -- and an end to the knuckleheadedness on US college campuses.