For Openers...
A sale this big only happens twice a year!
Big Wheeler
RABBI ROBERT A. ALPER
Special to The Jewish News
T
wenty-five years ago, right
after ordination, my first
synagogue footed the bill
for our move from
Cincinnati to Buffalo. Among our
• possessions: about a quarter of a ton
of cinderblocks which we had
acquired and used, along with stained
and varnished boards, to hold our siz-
able library.
I felt guilty making the congrega-
tion pay for this dead weight, especial-
ly as I watched the packers wrap each
block in tissue and place it in a fresh,
individual cardboard box.
But, I rationalized, we didn't have
much furniture, and if we left the cin-
derblocks in Cincinnati, we would
have had no shelves in Buffalo.
Fast forward to 1990. Another
move, this time from Philadelphia to
the realization of a dream: Vermont.
And for this move, we were paying all
the expenses.
"Hello, U-Haul?"
I rented the biggest truck in the
fleet, 28-feet-long I think it was. Six
men from a Philadelphia moving com-
pany loaded the van. Late that after-
noon, I discovered we were out of
room. I scurried around town and, at
the last minute, rented a smaller trailer
for the overflow, hitching it to the
back of the truck.
Our family had disbursed, my wife
already working in Vermont, the kids
off to summer projects. I drove the
truck alone and must admit that after
years of wearing a suit and tie and sit-
ting behind a desk, boosting myself up
into that cab was exhilarating, a real
change of pace.
I was nervous as I drove cautiously
through what was now our former
• neighborhood, making excessively
wide turns to avoid jumping the
curbs. But once I hit the turnpike, I
relaxed for the first time and tried the
radio. Surprise: It seemed that I could
receive only one station, a trucker's
country and western format playing
tunes like "My Backward Life." I recall
one verse: "My dog he gives me kisses,
and my wife turns round three times
*before she sits."
No matter. I turned on the portable
CB radio I had borrowed from my car
trunk. It was a small, emergency
model but worked fine on that clear,
Rabbi Alper will bring his one-man
show, Saturday the Rabbi Made Us
Laugh, to the Maple/Drake Jewish
Community Center on Dec. 13.
K.
)
warm morning. After eavesdropping
on discussions between "Road
Renegade" and "Kentucky Wheelie," I
entered the banter, using my clever
CB name. "George Frederick here," I
interjected. "Any Smokies east of
Willow Grove?"
There was an unusual stillness on
the air. And then a voice that sounded
like "Kentucky Wheelie" asked,
"Who?"
"George Frederick. George
Frederick? That's my Handel. Get it?"
He didn't.
Despite the now-silence in my cab,
I picked up the rhythm of cruising
down that ribbon of highway and by
mid-day was ready for a break.
Naturally, I chose a truck stop. Parked
my "rig" between two 18 wheelers.
Even considered ordering a cup of
"java" to accompany my sandwich,
but ultimately opted to request coffee.
Full strength.
Half-way through my meal I began
to feel his eyes on me. He sat on a
stool across the counter. Graying T-
shirt, hairy arms, dark sunglasses and
an Arafat beard. Blurry tattoos on
both biceps and a leather band on one
wrist.
He placed some bills next to his
plate, took a final sip of coffee and
walked around the counter until he
stood next to me. This was a big, big
fellow.
"Hey, mister. You a Jew?"
Uh oh. What's gong on here? I
began to feel a spidery panic in my
stomach. How does he know? My
face? I wore no distinguishing jewelry,
no identifying logo on my T-shirt.
Nothing there at all. Nothing at all ...
except ... except ... I had been reading
the Philadelphia Jewish Exponent. Yeah,
I suppose that would be a sign. I took
a breath.
"Urn, yes, I am." I braced myself.
For just a few seconds.
Until I heard his next words: "Do
you know where I can find a minyan
around here?"
Harry Golden said it decades ago:
Only in America. ❑
He eats as if he just recovered
from an illness.
He must make his _mother happy.
.7.3.W2M
.
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