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t's alive and flourishing — this
Jewish connection — affirma-
tion that we are one. As Nora
Ephron admitted in her book
Heartburn, "I go along with that
stuff about a small world. You
have no choice if you're Jewish."
It happens all the time, to ac-
knowledge that we are a singu-
lar but widespread mishpachah.
Even in the remotest of outposts,
a person appears to prove the
concept of togetherness.
In Mexico, we took the spec-
tacular train ride through Cop-
per Canyon territory. At a
desolate stopover, the inn pro-
vided a tour of the bleak coun-
tryside. The bus driver's Spanish
was impossible for me to com-
prehend. In desperation, I plead-
ed among fellow passengers for
a translator.
The man across the aisle vol-
unteered. Somehow he "seemed"
Jewish. It turns out, he was a
doctor of Sephardic background
and lived in Mexico City. Would
he know my cousin, Leon Green,
the cardiologist? "Of course. He's
my grandmother's physician."
At the synagogue in Madrid,
we arrived early for Kol Nidre,
enabling us to mingle with a few
guests and ask the routine ques-
tion, "Where are you from?"
When an American woman
named a city on the West Coast,
the answer to the next question
was also predictable. She and my
sister-in-law shared a carpool for
Hebrew class.
Seated in the women's section,
one lady stood out,. the only
blonde among rows of brunettes.
Late the next evening, we at-
tended a show at a celebrated
nightclub. As we were leaving, I
thought I recognized the blonde.
I approached her hesitantly.
"Where were you last night?" She
replied immediately, "The same
place as you. At the synagogue."
She was on vacation, a resident
of Ramat Aviv and our friends'
sons had been her students.
Apparently these friends are
well known. Standing along the
rim of the Grand Canyon, gazing
at the awesome grandeur below,
I started talking to a young girl
also captivated by the panoram-
ic view. I mistakenly assumed,
from her accent, that she was
French. She was another Israeli
from Ramat Aviv.
"Do you know David Modai?"
I asked. She was a patient of his
and promised to convey kindest
regards.
This "Do you know?" is my fa-
vorite game, although a friend,
dating back to college days, al-

ways regarded it with disdain,
even before we discovered that a
cousin whom she rarely sees is
married to one of my cousins
whom I never saw. No matter.
Some time ago, I was sched-
uled for an unpleasant diagnos-
tic procedure. Although I was
consumed by fright, instead of
asking if it would hurt, I asked
the radiologist where he was
from. When he told me, I won-
dered if by any possibility he had
heard of my brother Phil. "Of -
course," he answered. "He was in
my B'nai B'rith lodge." From that
moment, everything came up
roses.

Playing
the game is
reassuring.

This circumstantial connection
happens to others, too. A neigh-
bor, originally from the East, was
faced with emergency surgery.
Not to worry. The surgeon on call
was also from the Bronx. Turns
out that his father had been their
family butcher. The operation
was a success; could it have been
otherwise?
At a local graduation party, I
met a guest from Quito, Ecuador,
the offspring of German refugees.
I mentioned my relative who also
escaped Germany to find sanc-
tuary in that South American
country. He lived down the block
from them.
Members of our temple include
a family from Capetown, South
Africa. I mentioned our kin in Jo-
hannesburg-. 'That's Maishe," the
husband responded. "He pre-
pared me for my bar mitzvah."
Anecdotes are endless to
strengthen the ties that bind.
Overwhelmingly sustaining of
one's ethnic self-esteem is this re-
inforcement of one world. The
Jewish world. And from that
there is no escape.
Even in death one seldom per-
ceives a departure from bonds
that tie — or may be threatening.
For decades, Aunt Mollie went to
the same dentist: a Christian ac-
tively involved with church ac-
tivities. Before the High Holy
Days, my aunt journeyed to
Waldheim, the largest Jewish
cemetery in the area, to pay her
respects. She looked up in disbe-
lief. There stood her dentist. He
had no alternative. He told her
he was visiting his parents'
graves.

