My Road Trip - January 2009

“Oh man! Oh man! What am I going to do?! Winter break is approaching and I have nothing to do. This is going to be the worst winter break ever.” This is what was going through my mind at about New Year’s time. How little did I know how wrong I was.

          Anyways, school went on like regular. Finally, one day I call up my mother to see what I should do for mid-winter vacation, and I hear that my sister, Shayna, is coming to visit me!! My joy knew no bounds. I’ll be doing something, and with my sister, too! But that was only half the surprise. The other half still remained a secret. Now, I just couldn’t wait for winter vacation!

          About a week before vacation, I’m told the other half: I’m going to Detroit! How? By car! This is getting great. Man! From doing nothing for a week, to driving to Detroit! I must be dreaming! Nobody pinch me, I don’t want to wake up! I just couldn’t believe that this is real life!

          Well, for that week I’m packing and getting ready. I was told I’ll be in Detroit for: (Thursday?) Friday, שבת, and Sunday. But I still had to pack for the first days of vacation. Man, it’s not easy to pack for five days in a small carry-on size duffel bag.

          Finally, the big day, Sunday January 18, 2009, arrives. I davened with the shul and then called Shayna. She was coming at around 9:00 to pick me up. I was soon picked up by Shayna and Buddy. Who’s Buddy? Buddy is this really great dog that Shayna just got. He’s really cool. I’ll speak more about him later on in the composition.

          Then we went to pick up Ari Chapman (the person my sister is dating). He’s a really, really cool guy!

          Well, we talked and caught up on things. Then we went to pick up Ari’s almost two year old son, Adam. He is really fun and cute. This is the second time meeting him. Once we picked Adam up, we drove to this really awesome dog park not far away. You should really see Buddy play! He’s amazing at jumping! We were playing fetch and some stupid dog took the ball and dropped it by its master’s feet. The guy told me to take it. ‘Don’t worry, he won’t bite you’ he said. Well, I take the ball and start going towards Shayna and Ari, when the stupid dog jumps and my whole hand ends up in his mouth! So much for ‘it won’t bite’!

          Then we went to visit Ari’s aunt (Adam’s great aunt) Mildred. We all went onto the porch and talked. Adam and I played. That is until I fell asleep on the lawn chair with Adam underneath me! Well, it was a great first day of vacation! We dropped Adam back off at his house, then I went to stay by Ari’s friend’s house. I went on the computer and watched the concert for Obama’s inauguration. Then I hit the sack.

          Monday : After davening and breakfeast, we went to pick up Adam for a day at the beach! But first we went to meet up with the Schulman family (consisting of: Ari’s sister, Tamar, and her husband, Yochanan; and their kids: Avi and Sholom.) what a sight the greeting in the store was! Cousins hugging and laughing and playing!

          To the beach! Off we went to Vero Beach for a fantastic day in the soft sand and wide ocean. When we arrived, we all changed and hit the water. Ahh! Those waves were pretty big, and boy did it hurt when I didn’t jump on time! But it was so much fun! We were there for a good couple of hours!

Sadly, the time came when we had to leave. But, of course, we had to do group pictures first! Then we left and we went to drop off Adam, then Ari. This time I was staying by our friend Nacho (it’s just a nickname!)’s house.

          On Tuesday we got up early, packed, picked up Ari and Buddy, davened, ate and hit the road. We went through, I believe, four states that day! That night we all slept in the car by some welcome center.

          Wednesday we arrive in Baltimore! We dropped off Buddy by Tamar’s house (where we were going to spend the night). And then we drive to Washington D.C.! We went to the Holocaust Museum, where we met up with my Uncle Mark (whom I haven’t seen since I was like two!) and we spent a couple of hours there. Then we meet Mark’s friend and we went to a small coffee shop to talk. I am serious. If I couldn’t do anything else my whole trip, but spend those few hours talking with Shayna, Ari, Uncle Mark and his friend; I would be completely satisfied. Those few hours we spent together, would be enough for me.

          Later, after a mad dash to pick up our car, we went to see the White House! We took pictures in the back because the front still had bleachers from the inauguration the day before (the back looks better anyways!) Later, after searching all over for a gas station, we went souvenir shopping. I got the perfect picture frame. It has all around the picture different things: the Washington Monument, the Capital, the White House, the Pentagon etc… Then we headed back to Baltimore to spend the night.

          On Thursday we woke up, davened, did  random stuff, had sushi for brunch, watched cartoons, and then hit the road [leaving Ari behind (so it was just Shayna, me, and Buddy)].

          I kept saying to myself: ‘I wish Yaakov (Docks, my best friend) could see Buddy’. Guess what? I found out that Yaakov was going to be in town too! It turns out that he had his break then also!

          On Friday morning, we arrived in Detroit!!! I went straight to see my two wonderful nieces, before they left for Cheder, and my sister Malcah, and my father. Then I went to my old school to see my mother and some of my old rabbeim.

          I spent Shabbos at the Docks’s house with Yaakov. It was great! On Moitze Shabbos, Hudsi Rosenberg and Yaakov slept over! We had a lot of fun!

          Sunday: We all woke up, davened, and played. Later Hudsi went home and Yaakov and I, went to Jerusalem Pizza (the best pizza store) for lunch, where we ate a nice, big meal. Then I went to get a watch. We then had some fun for the rest of the day. Finally, Yaakov had to go home. So I went to Sara’s Deli (the best restaurant for meat), where I ordered to go for me and my mother. We had a nice little supper at home. After supper, my friend Dovi Rosenberg (Hudsi’s brother) came over. We played for a few hours until he was picked up. Then came the hard task of packing, for I was going back to yeshiva early the next day. I was packing until like two or three in the morning, when I fell asleep on the couch.

          On Monday morning, I was woken up at about six thirty, to go to the airport. Shayna took me. When I was checking in, I was told that since I was only fourteen, I had to have a parent check in with me. You see I was flying North West Airlines. So Shayna had to park and check me in. Then, security was moving to slow, since it was tightened. Boy, was I running late! Just my luck that my gate happened to be all the way at the very end of the terminal! I got there just as they were closing the door! Whew! It was a nice ride. Then I took a shuttle and soon arrived on yeshiva grounds.

Mesiras Nefesh Has Always Been A Part Of Us, As Have The Holtzbergs HY”D

Dedicated To The Innocent Terror-Victims Of Mumbai, India

Written By: Dovid Nissan Roetter

               What exactly is ‘Mesiras Nefesh’? I know ‘Sacrificing Your Life for Hashem’. But what does it really mean ‘giving up your life’? I’m only a 14 year-old boy, born in 1994. Thank G-d I wasn’t alive in the times of the Crusades or the infamous Holocaust.  So I can’t understand as well what Mesiras Nefesh really is. Unfortunately, in view of the recent events, I think I now know what it means. Now, I never personally knew the Holtzbergs, like my sister Pesha Leah did. But, yet, it all affected me very deeply. I guess it’s because we are all brothers and sisters. I guess everyone had some Mesiras Nefesh when they heard the news. So, really, Mesiras Nefesh is not just giving up your physical bodies for Hashem, like Rabbi Gavriel and Rivkie did. Also, to a certain extent, giving up your emotional body, as well as your desires, I guess. That is also true Mesiras Nefesh. That is living for Hashem!

               As I mentioned earlier, my sister Pesha Leah Azoulay, knew the Holtzbergs HY”D. Below is a poem dedicated to their memory.

Don't Leave us Stranded!

Written By: Pesha Leah Azoulay of the OK Kosher

I never knew where Mumbai was.

India was so far away. So distant.

I never knew.

That all changed.

Three months ago, when I started working.

Planning a trip with all its details.

For a Rabbi to go to India.

To perform kashrus inspections.

We worked on this trip.

All of the details.

Together with Rabbi Holtzberg.

Who would be accompanying.

Rabbi Holtzberg, when I spoke to you on Tuesday,

You were so accommodating.

“I would never want to be a stranded Jew in India”

Those were your words.

And you insisted we change the schedule,

So the Rabbi could stay by you, one more night.

So you can help him out even more.

Rabbi Holtzberg, when I spoke with you on Tuesday,

I had assumed you were much older.

You spoke with such a depth, such ahavas Yisroel.

On Wednesday, we had finalized the details.

I just was working with the companies,

Waiting for confirmations regarding transport.

On Wednesday night, my husband delicately mentions,

“Were you planning a trip to India?

I don’t think that is a very good idea,

There are terrorist attacks.”

But more details he didn’t give.

And I just couldn’t ask.

Thursday morning, in my inbox.

An email from a company.

They can not get through to you.

They are worried you might be involved.

I had to inform all of them,

Yes, this is our Rabbi.

That’s when it started to hit home.

I followed the news all day.

Hoping, praying, begging.

In a daze, terrified but hoping for the best.

Saying tehillim.

Asking women to bake challah. Please, bake challah with a bracha.

As a segulah for a yeshua.

Thursday night,

My friends get together,

We are saying tehillim,

All of us, together, out loud.

On Friday, things aren’t getting better.

Conflicting reports all day long.

I glance up at my computer screen.

A note, I hadn’t noticed it before.

PLEASE CALL HOLTZBERG.

A smaller note next to it reminds me

Call holtzberg.

My blood freezes. It feels like ages ago

These are just from Tuesday.

Tuesday, when I spoke to you.

I am begging Hashem,

“Bring them back to us.

Alive and well!”

The tears are streaming down my face,

My wrenching sobs shaking me,

To my very core.

I grab my tehillim and storm the heavens.

Crying, praying and hoping.

I refuse to accept any reports.

I simply can’t.

A young shliach in his prime.

Whom I had just spoken with,

The day before these horrible events.

No, it can’t be.

Hashem, it’s enough!

AD MOSAI? TILL WHEN?

Rabbi Holtzberg always made sure

No one would be stranded,

Aibeshter, Oy Aibeshter,

Don't let your children remain stranded!

Bring the Geulah now!

Living With Mesiras Nefesh

               If I would ask you what Mesiras Nefesh means, you’d probably say ‘giving up your life for Hashem’. Right? Well you are right, but it’s really more than that. Mesiras Nefesh can also mean giving up your desires. What do I mean, you ask? Well, if for example, you want to oh… go to a basketball game. But you know it’s wrong. Yet you really want to go. What can you do? You could, maybe, leave early, or go outside and learn during the halftime, or whatever. That’s also Mesiras Nefesh. You’re sacrificing your desires.

               There once was a sheperd, who also had Mesiras Nefesh, in this aspect. His name was Akiva. One day, he saw a rock that had a hole drilled into it. When he enquired about it, he was told that the water dripping on it, made a hole. If water can penetrate a rock, he thought to himself. Why can’t torah penetrate my head? So giving up all worldly desires, he then studied torah, became Rabbi Akiva, and had many students. That was also Mesiras Nefesh.

Physically Mesiras Nefesh

As everyone knows, Mesiras Nefesh means giving up your life for Hashem, literally. Like the Kedoshim in Mumbai did. Unfortunately, there were many other times in our history, where people gave up their lives. For example, the infamous holocaust. Millions of Jews were killed, in order to sanctify the name of Hashem. They were Mesiras Nefesh with their complete physical body.

               There is one time in history though, that I want to talk about. This is the story of The Ten Martyrs (The עשרה הרוגי מלכות).

               The day the Bais Hamikdosh was destroyed, the first one was killed. His name was Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel. He was the father of Rabbi Yehudah the Nosi (prince). Later, Rabbi Yishmoel ben Elisha, the Cohen Gadol (the High Priest). Sixty years following the destruction, Rabbi Akiva, the same one I talked about earlier, was killed. His was the worst. The Romans tore off his skin with tons of iron combs. Thirteen years passed. The other seven, were then killed in horrible ways. Some were burnt alive; some had their tongue cut off, while one was stabbed with 300 iron laces. Their names were: Rabbi Yehudah ben Bava, Rabbi Chanina ben Tradion, Rabbi Yeshavav the sofer (scribe), and Rabbi Elazar ben Dama. There was also, Rabbi Chanina ben Chakinai, and Rabbi Chutzpith the Translator. Last of all, Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua. He was the greatest genius of his time. He also bor the title ‘Best of the Sages’. Rabbi Yehudah the Nosi was his student.

               Now, some, replace Rabbi Chanina ben Chakinai, Rabbi Elazar ben Dama, and Rabbi Elazar ben Shamua with Rabbi Yehudah the Baker, Ben Azzai, and Rabbi Tarfon. But, the first opinion is more reasonable. That is the story of the Ten Martyrs.

               So now, hopefully, all of us, including myself, understand a bit more about Mesiras Nefesh, and what it means to us as Jews. Just like ה' avenged the blood of the Ten Martyrs, so too, He will avenge the blood of Rabbi Gavriel and Rivkie, along with the other innocent terror victims of Mumbai. There are many things being done in honor of the Kedoshim, including ‘Mitzvos for Mumbai’.  I hope that by writing this essay, I too have fulfilled a portion in this mitzvah.

          May Hashem avenge the blood of all those who died על קידוש ה' (Sanctifying Hashem’s Name), in these tragic events. Along with those who perished in our entire history, now! אמן!

Want Freedom? Work For It! (A Short Story)

Chapter 1

Weo-Weo-Weo! The sirens were piercing the air! Seven patrol cars came zooming down the dirt road, and came to a screeching halt in front of a small cottage. Two cops jumped out of each car and surrounded the house. Half of them drew their guns and entered the cottage by breaking down the door. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Forty minutes passed. Finally, after two hours, four of the policemen come out dragging a teen, about 16 or 17, and garbage bags upon garbage bags of drugs, nicotine, cocaine, boxes of cigarettes and cases of whiskey. Following them, the others came out with their guns pointed at the young adult. The teenager is shoved into a patrol car, which speeds off. The rest then follow suit.

Chapter 2

Page# 1

            “Order in the court! Order in the court!” the Judge cried, while banging his gravel. “This court will now come to order! Will the accused please rise?”

          A teenager named Josh Santriso slowly stands up.

“Are you, or are you not Josh Santriso?” the Judge asked.

“I am, your Honor.” The young boy replied.

“And did you, or did you not have drugs and alcohol in your possession?”

“Yes, your Honor. But-”

“I did not ask for any further information.” The Judge replied. “You will answer what you have been asked and only that. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your Honor.” The boy answered meekly.

“Good! Now, back to where we were. You admit to having drugs and alcohol in your possession. Now, how old are you?”

“Sixteen, your Honor.”

“Sixteen. Wow! To young to smoke, yet you had packs of cigarettes; to young to drink, yet you had cases of whisky; and definitely to young to use drugs! Wow! Wow-whee! So, how do you plead: Innocent or Guilty?”

“Innocent.” The boy replied. “Your Honor.” He quickly added.

 “Innocent?! Why, I’m surprised! All the evidence proves you guilty, and yet you plead innocent. That takes a lot of guts.”

“May I speak, your Honor?”

“You don’t have much hope, but go on.”

“Thank you. Honorable Judge, Men of the Jury, and all those present. Do you want to see an innocent man rot in jail, for a crime that he did not commit?”

“What on earth are you saying?! If it wasn’t you, then, just, who was it?”

“Your Honor, I work in a McDonald’s and I have a ‘competitor’, who works in a Taco Bell, by the name of George Shaproe. This past year, I had a lot more costumers than him. So, naturally, George was mad. He vowed to get me back. Don’t you think that these objects were planted on me, so that my ‘competitor’ can get rid of me?”

“How many times did you rehearse that? Don’t answer me! It doesn’t matter! All in all, it’s a very far-fetched story. But it’s not up to me.” Turning to the Jury, he exclaimed: “Men of the Jury, you know the facts. You saw the evidence. You heard Mr. Santriso’s story. Now it’s up to you to see if he is innocent, and should be let free, or if he is guilty, and if so he’ll be sentenced to twenty-five years in prison. You are dismissed.”

The Jury takes leave of the courtroom.

Chapter 3

“Mr. Foreman?” the guard said.

“Yes?” he replied.

“If you need anything just knock on the door.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

The door closes and the click of the lock is heard.

The Foreman asked for attention.

“We were lucky not to get a case of life and death. But, that does not mean that we could take this case lightly. I think that we should start off with a silent vote.”

The Foreman then ripped up a large piece of paper into twelve pieces and handed it out to the Jurors.

“Please write your vote on the piece of paper, and pass it back up to me.

A couple minutes pass, with only the sound of pen on paper heard.

“Alright! Is that all of them?”

“Yep! I believe so,” said Juror# 7

“Good! Now, let’s see: Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Innocent!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“Guilty!”

“And… Guilty!”

“Ok! It’s 9 to 3 – Guilty! What should we do now?”

Juror #11 spoke up. “I think that we should see why those that claimed innocent did so. But it’s just a thought,” he trailed off.

“I think,” said the Foreman, “that it’s a great idea! If nobody minds, all those that claim innocent, please raise your hand.”

Jurors #3, 8 and 12 slowly raised their hands.

The Foreman called on Juror #3. “Why do you say innocent?”

“Well, I for one believe his story.”
          “Now, what is this?!” yelled Juror #5. “We went into his **** story enough! He works in no McDonald’s! In fact, he doesn’t even work at all! Plus, there is no such person as George Shaproe. What kind of name is ‘Shaproe’ anyways?” he said with a sneer.

“Sorry mister.” Juror #3 replied.

Juror #12 put down his hand. “I had the same reason,” he said.

“Well,” said the Foreman. “Now it’s 11 to 1 – Guilty. So Juror #8, why do you say innocent?”

“Aw! Gee! I-I-I don’t really know. I mean, my conscience just doesn’t let me say guilty, and have a kid sit in a dark, dingy cell for 25 years.”

“But he told a stupid story under oath!” yelled Juror #2.

“I-I know, I know. But lying under oath is only five years, not twenty-five.”

“Oh! Shut it about you and your stupid conscience!” juror #2 started yelling. “Knowing you, you probably would let a murderer get off free, because you don’t want to make him go to the ‘Electric Chair’!” he sneered at him.

Then #7 got up. “What are you doing, you animal? He’s entitled to his rights as an American; and as part of this jury, he can claim innocent or guilty without being ashamed for it!”

Juror #2 sat down, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he grunted.

“Good!” said Juror #7. “Now, Juror #8, he does have a point. He’s guilty, all the way, and you know it.”
          “Yah…. I know. You’re right. I claim guilty.”

“Alright!” said the Foreman. He knocked on the door.

“Yes?” said the guard.

“We have reached a verdict.”

The Jury files into the courtroom.

The Judge bangs his gravel for attention. “The Jury has come to verdict. Mr. Foreman, if you please?”
          “The Jury proclaims the accused guilty, of all charges, your Honor.”

“It’s settled then!” the Judge said. “I herby sentence the accused, Mr. Josh Santriso, to twenty-five years in prison! Case dismissed!” He bangs his gravel twice.

All those present, file out of the courtroom. Josh Santriso is lead away, handcuffed.

Chapter 4

It’s 1:37 am, on Wednesday, December 7^th, 1993. All is quiet. Everyone is fast asleep. All that is, except for one person. A person in a dark, dingy cell, shared with the mice and the rats. A cell with only a small barred up window, a hard wooden bench to sleep on and a small doggy-door, where his daily ration of bread, soup, water, chicken and cheese come in. that person is none other than, our infamous Josh Santriso.

Seventeen years have passed. The 16 year old Josh we once knew, is now a 33 year old man. He wasn’t skinny, but he wasn’t fat either. He, of course, wasn’t married. In only 8 years he would be free. He’s been thinking about life, and he decided, that when he gets out, he’s going to get a real job. He’s going to earn enough money to support himself for many years to come.

But will he ever get out? Eight years is like an eternity. Sure, people come to visit, and sure, it’s not so bad, but it’s eight years! Maybe, he thought, that since he was good, he can bail himself out. But alas! No! He was to be in jail eight more dreadful years.

Chapter 5

^{8 years later…}

          Josh was in a very happy mood. He was getting out any day now! He was now 41 years old. He was getting some gray hairs already. Five days pass. Ten days pass. When was he getting out already?! After a month and a half, there’s a knock on his cell door.

The guard opens the door, and leaves it wide open. “You’re free!” he said. “You can go home!” Finally! The day he was waiting for, waiting over twenty-five years for, has come. He was free! He was going home today!

He quickly packed the few belongings he had, and walked out of the jail cell. He walked out into the courtyard, and for the first time in over twenty-five years… he passed the jail gates! Freedom! What everybody dreams about! How good it is to be free! How he won’t take advantage of something like freedom again!

Epilogue

^{25 years later…}

Page# 7

          Josh Santriso, a man of 66, now lives with his wife and five children in Los Angeles, California. He owns a pretty successful business. I am glad to say that Josh has learned his lesson very, very well. He also learned that you have to work for everything, even… freedom!

The Thief? (A Short Story)

“I can’t believe I just did that! How could I have done something so humiliating, like destroying his Bar Mitzvah?!” I thought.

         

Whoops! I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start with an introduction. My name is Chaim Dov Bloch. I’m in the 9^th grade of Yeshivas Mordechai Ha-Tzaddik in Chicago, Illinois. I was considered the head of the class, so to speak. Until the unthinkable happened.

          I thought it was going to be a great day, when I awoke on that tragic day of March 23^rd, 2006. But I was wrong! I was very wrong! From that day, my life started going downhill.

          It all started when I woke up at 7:15 a.m. and groggily reached for my watch. Now let me tell you something about this watch of mine. It was a solid gold watch, given to me by my great-grandmother ^ע"ו on my Bar Mitzvah. Only one month later, she passed away. All of a sudden, I sat straight up, wide awake. It was gone! My beautiful watch was gone! I turned the room inside-out an outside-in, but it was in vain. My watch was nowhere to be found.

          I-I-I was just devastated. I-I couldn’t believe it. Only a few days after Purim, the happiest time of the year, I lost my most precious possession. I was so careful with it and like that *^snap*, it was gone. I felt like crying. I was so upset that I felt sick all over. I dreaded telling my parents, who knows what they’ll do to me?

I went to school that day and asked everyone I could, if they saw my watch. They all said no. all of a sudden, I remembered that Yaakov Levin was playing with it yesterday, and even said that he wished he had a watch like mine. I immediately confronted Yaakov and demanded that he returns my watch to me. He said he has no idea what I’m talking about, he never took it. I screamed that he’s a liar. He answered back that I’m a *^beep*. At the end of the day, I didn’t have my watch back in my hands.

I went home so furious that I was sure I could melt an ice cube by just glancing at it. I had to get Yaakov back. But how? How to do it? It had to be the sweetest, most cunning revenge yet, I thought to myself while drifting off to sleep.

Shortly after Pesach, I got an invitation in the mail. Do you know whose it was? That’s right; it was an invitation to Yaakov Levin’s Bar Mitzvah! Now I had the greatest, most foolproof revenge ever in history. I will DESTROY his Bar Mitzvah! But how?

The next day in school, everyone was talking about Yaakov’s party. Now Yaakov Levin’s parents were, well, pretty rich. There was even a rumor that the party was going to be like, if not better than, a wedding! Everyone was asking each other if they were going. Then it clicked! I knew how to destroy Yaakov’s Bar Mitzvah! I had a plan! Boy, did I have a plan! He-He-He!!!

          All of a sudden, Shlomo came up to me and asked, “Hey Chaim, you ganna go? I heard they’re having a full-fledge band!”

          Then Moishy added, “Yah, I heard they’re having an amazing dessert!”

          And on, and on. Do you know what I did? I just gave them all a glare, a menacing glare. It was clear to them all that it meant explicitly this: ‘Whoever goes to the Bar Mitzvah will be rejected from the class, and humiliated like never before’. They were scared. They knew that everyone listens to me, and whatever I say is, well, law. Yet they wanted to go so badly. But they were stuck.

           The day of the Bar Mitzvah arrives. As Shuir was ending, Yaakov reminded everyone about that night. “Remember, tonight’s my Bar Mitzvah Party at Maachon La-Torah at 6:30 p.m.”. “We’ll be there Yaakov!” we all chorused. But in our hearts we knew not.

          At 12:15 Yaakov left for his shul, Maachon La-Torah, to help set up. If you would’ve walked in right then, you’d have gone nuts! His cousins were setting the tables; his aunts were getting the VCR ready for a production. And his mother?! Oh! I’d rather not say! She was hustling all over, calling the caterers and the bakers, making sure that the popcorn and slurpee machines were intact. The band was tuning their instruments to perfection. The Bar Mitzvah Bochur was studying his Maamer in Hebrew, Yiddish and English, as he’s going to be saying it in all three languages, so anyone who comes can understand. The caterers were trying to rearrange the foods the proper way. And-and-and-and it was just a full-fledge zoo!

          Comes 6:15 and some guests start to show up, yet no one from his class. He was, well not scared, but more like anxious, for normally classmates start to show up fifteen or twenty minutes early. But, he thought to himself, maybe they don’t have a ride or something. Comes 6:30, lots of great rabbis start to show up and respected people in the community, yet no one from his class. We-e-ll, maybe they’ll come a bit late, it’s not like them, but maybe.

          At 7:15 the Rav said a beautiful Dvar Torah on the Parsha that Yaakov read so fluently the day before. Then Yaakov, himself, said a Dvar Torah on the Haftorah. It was now 8:30. Yaakov said the Maamer by heart perfectly in all three languages. Still no one from the class showed up.

          Yaakov was heart-broken. Outside, he didn’t show it, but he was so hurt that not a soul from his class showed up. He knew that this was no coincidence. But why did this happen, he did not understand.

          The next day in school, Yaakov walks in downcast. He went over to Shlomo and asked him, “What happened last night? How come you didn’t come?” To this Shlomo answered, “I had an appointment which I couldn’t miss, I’m sorry.” Everyone had a different excuse: no ride, had to baby-sit, help their family, etc… etc…

          Then he comes to me. He said, “Chaim? We’re good friends. I was certain you’d be there!” Do you know what I did? I, in a nasty way, pulled up my sleeve, looked at my empty wrist and said meanly, “I didn’t have my watch; I couldn’t keep track of the time. It’s not my fault.” And I turned on my heels and left.

          Now Yaakov knew. He understood it was all my doing. All because I thought he took my watch. Yaakov ran home, crying bitterly.

          Chanukah passes and Purim is fast approaching. I decided to use my same costume as last year, Captain Scarface (the best pirate), only better. I went to my storage and found the Purim box. I opened it up, in the light, and I saw something glittering.

          I quickly dug through the box, and there I saw it. It was my watch! I couldn’t believe it! For the past year, I thought Yaakov stole it, and here, I just found it with the Purim box! Oy vey! What have I done?!?!

          The next day I found Yaakov, and in tears, I burst out to him, “I’m so sorry, I thought you stole my watch and I just remembered that I put it with my costume so it won’t get stolen by someone who’s drunk.”  And I’m crying and crying and crying. “Please will you forgive me for ruining your Bar Mitzvah, please?”

         

“Look”, said Yaakov. “I can’t forgive you so easily, I can’t.”

“Please, please forgive me!” I begged.

“No, I can’t. I’m sorry.” he replied.

I had to do something, I had to. But what? Then I knew. I destroyed his party, so I must make a new one, a better one, for his 14^th birthday.

The next day, I called together all the kids in the class and asked them to help put together a party for Yaakov’s birthday. They agreed. So for the next month, I was planning, ordering and shopping etc...

The day of the party arrives. I rush to Maachon La-Torah after school. My friends and I start setting up. Menachem is getting his piano ready. The mothers are helping with the food. I then get the VCR in position for a clip I put together about Yaakov. We worked for hours.

At 6:15 I call Yaakov’s house and ask him to please come to Maachon La-Torah right away. He said he’ll be there.

Yaakov came and we surprised him with a great party. At 8:15 I got up onto the podium and addressed the crowd.

“First of all, I’d like to wish Yaakov a happy birthday and many more. Now, um… I-I’d like to publicly ask forgiveness of Yaakov. For the past year, I thought he stole my grand watch. Not only that, but I destroyed his Bar Mitzvah, as well. Yaakov, will you please forgive me, for what I’ve done? Can you find it in your heart to forgive?”

Yaakov just said, with tears in his eyes, one word: “YES”.

Moral: You must (1) always be דן לכף זכות, judge each other favorably, and (2) You must always know how to ask forgiveness. With this in mind, let us beg מחילה from הקב"ה on this Yom Kippur. May ה' forgive us whole-heartily and bring משיח speedily in our days, Amen!

The Move

In Honor Of My Switching To A New School: High School

One day as you’re sitting at home, your parents bring the news,

“Honey we are moving this next Tues.”

You think, what about my friends, teachers and school,

We had so much fun at the mall and at the pool.

You come to the new place, with no friends with you,

You realize that you have to start anew.

On your block there’s someone your age,

But you don’t know how to even come onto that page.

Then it comes to you in an instant,

From now on you won’t be at a distance.

Chorus: Because there’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab onto it.

With friends you’ll play, laugh and sing,

They’ll be coming to your new house with a ding-dong-ding.

Don’t forget you can always write,

To your old friends, or even take a flight.

So don’t say good-bye, just see you later,

I’ll talk to you later, Alligator. (Chorus)

As the months go by,

You realize with a happy sigh.

You’ve made lots of new friends now,

You say: How can I leave here, oh how?!?!”

You spend time and time again with your new buds,

And without thinking you know it’s because:

There’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab onto it.

With friends you’ll play, laugh and sing,

They’ll be coming to your new house with a ding-dong-ding.

Because there’s something in the air called Friendship,

All you have to do is grab on to it.