Foreword by Stan Lerner: a few weeks ago I predicted that a vibrant Jewish Community would emerge on Broadway, not to pat myself on the back or anything, but read this blog and tell me that I didn’t call this one.
Well, sederama 5769 has come and gone, leaving us with at least fifty-seven million new unforgettable Passover moments to love and cherish forever — venerable memories all, but the thing I keep thinking about is the gang of merciless Sephardi seven year olds who kept mugging me for matzoh in the hallways of our beautiful new Shul downtown. Those kids were street, yo, one of the hardest crews around: tight, relentless, organized; seamless in efficacy and design. In matching blue linens and insidiously misdirecting bowl hair cuts, they appeared not only harmless but adorable, to die for — I doubt there was a single adult among us who wouldn’t have gladly given our lives to preserve this paragon generation of future Jews – yet no sooner had one of them softly grabbed your hand to lay on the full heart-shmelzing big eyes and gap-toothed smile treatment than the other twelve would strafe in and converge from every nook and cranny to take your sucker tush down. “Where’s the matzoh?” they’d demand, but by that time it was already gone! Honest! Every bit of abikoman had long been found and ransomed — my own fully-grown Tante had already shaken me down for a ’76 Eldorado convertible in exchange for the packet of crunchy booty (I don’t know how that happened, really: in the spirit of the festivities I kept saying yes, and before I knew it I’m out 75 grand). These Jews are tough, and I can only thank G-d to be part of it, and that we had the blessing of a place and occasion to once again reaffirm our sweet, brutal commitment to each other. Continue reading Matzvot