I FICTION I Crazy Old Man Continued from preceding page FROM THE FERDERS Chabad Lubavitch. They are there when you need them. They were there in post-war Poland when we needed them. They were there on the University of Michigan campus when my children needed them. They are there to help Jewish peo- ple — without questions and without hesitation, here in Michigan, around the U.S. and around the globe. Chabad Lubavitch. Our favorite movement. Our favorite rabbis. Monday, September 25th, 7:30 P.M. An "Evening With Chabad" at the Ferber's home. "Gershon!," brilliant pianist and comedian, will entertain. Dy invitation only. For information, call (313) 737.7000 ITCHAK TARKAI Seated Women Acrylic on Canvas New Works Danielle Peleg Gallery Crosswinds mall 4301 Orchard Lake Rd. Suite 103 W. Bloomfield, MI 48033 Hours: Mon.-Sat. 106 Monday 12-5 626-5810 If you are not wearing it . . . sell it! You can't enjoy jewelry if it's sitting in your safe deposit box. Sell it for immediate cash. We pur- chase fine gems. Diamonds and Gold Jewelry. A SERVICE TO PRIVATE OWNERS BANKS & ESTATES GEM/DIAMOND SPECIALISTS AWARDED. CERTIFICATE BY GIA IN GRADING & EVALUATION a#4 ► Fine Jewelers EST. 1919 60 FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1989 30400 Telegraph Rd., Suite 134 Birmingham 642-5575 Hours: DAILY 10-5:30 THURS. 10-7 SAT. 10-3 Heart Association .AMeriCall WE'RE FIGHTING FOR YOUR LIFE proud of it. He stood at parade rest, in the middle of the room, with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet spread about a yard apart, according to regula-. tions. That was the way he had fallen asleep. "The kid," Uzi whispered to me. "Our only chance is the kid." He punched him in the stomach, and the boy doubled up and fell, knocking over a small table with his shoulder. The coffee cups and a half a bottle of brandy shattered on the tile floor. All of a sudden, there was a pounding on the door that didn't stop until I opened it a crack and saw the old man. He had phylacteries bound to his forehead. We had inter- rupted his morning prayers. "What is it? What's hap- pening here?" he asked me in Yiddish. "Go away," I told him. "It's none of your business." I tried shutting the door in his face, but he stuck one foot inside and with surprising strength threw it wide open. "Who is it?" Uzi asked. "Rosenblum," I told him. "From across the hall." "Well, get rid of him." The boy, who was still on the floor, raised himself up on his elbows and stared at the old man. "Get him out of here," Uzi repeated.. In the distance, maybe three or four blocks away, up Ben Yehuda Street, there was an explosion. The windows rattled. The Arabs were shelling us from the Old City. As a matter of fact, when I look back on it now, they had been shelling and mortaring us all night long, at irregular intervals. We were just impervious to it; only our bodies reacted instinctively every time there was an ex- plosion. Everyone — even the lieutenant, I noticed with satisfaction — contracted his shoulders and ducked his head. Once, about seven in the morning, when an ambulance clanged up Jaffa Road in the direction of the King David, I went to the window to take a look. The street was strewn with rubble: broken glass, glittering in the fresh light, rolls of toilet paper, the burned-out wreck of an old Packard sedan, and frag- ments of the beautiful, rose- colored stone, quarried from the Judean hills, from which the houses of the New City are built. The old man unwrapped his phylacteries from his forehead. "You were born here?" he asked Uzi. "What of it?" "Were you?" "Yes, in Haifa, where I live. So what?" "And you, if I remember, in ml Aviv," the old man said to me. “yes: , He slammed the door shut behind him and stood there, with his arms folded across his chest. He said, "Let them go." Maybe, from the tone of his voice, the boy guessed what the old man intended; any- how, he tried to smile, with his swollen lip. The lieutenant yawned, delicately covering his mouth with his hand. Then the old man spouted from Isaiah, in a hoarse, singsong voice. " 'No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go up thereon, it will not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there.' Let them go," he said. Uzi dragged the boy to his feet by the collar and hit him in the stomach again. He retched but didn't bring anything up. "Well?" The boy shook his head. Uzi hit him again and let him drop on his back to the floor.