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In Celebration Of Mistakes

I

t happened ages ago, but it’s an anec- mother’s, I’m quite flattered!
dote that still makes me smile.
There’s just something about honest
Twenty years back, my cousin
mistakes. They make people smile.
Elwin attended a Chabad wed-
Or grimace. Like the time my
ding. The music began and the
husband idly picked up the ther-
groom was walked down to the
mometer and was about to place it
chuppah, flanked by his father
under his tongue when I told him I
and father-in-law, all looking
had just gotten my son’s rectal tem-
pensive. The melody was soul-
perature with it …
stirring and the crowd, a sea of
It’s kind of like the guy who
swaying, singing bearded men
stayed at his friend’s apartment
in black jackets and black hats, Rochel Burstyn and found a spare toothbrush
were walking slowly behind
behind the bathroom mirror.
them. Finding himself in the direct path
He wrote his friend a note explaining
of the crowd, Elwin quickly backed up
he’d used it and hoped that was OK. His
against the row of pay phones (remember
friend responded it didn’t bother him at
them?!) as the Men in Black marched by.
all, that was the toothbrush he cleaned
At that moment, Elwin’s attention was
the fish tank with …
caught by a woman, hand over one ear as
Mistakes are great; we have them in
she yelled into a phone: “Girl! I can’t hear
common; they unite us as humans. It’s so
you. There’s an Amish funeral coming
much fun to laugh at people’s mistakes —
through!”
even your own.
My neighbor recently made me smile,
A few months ago, I tried a new challah
too. He’s 14 months old and the other
recipe that called for letting the dough rise
day he toddled over to me, tugged on my
in a (clean!) garbage bag. It was only later
skirt and held out his hands. I said, “Um
I realized I’d used a Febreze-scented gar-
… me? Are you sure?” and that’s when
bage bag. I figured what’s a few extra cents
he looked up, realized I wasn’t his mother
(scents!) when you’re rolling in dough
and hurried away in search of her. But
anyhow!?
he had officially made my day. I mean,
Once, I was lying down, half asleep, and
if he thinks my legs are as skinny as his
felt a little tickle on my foot. Although I

Picking Up Pieces
After The ’67 Riot

was confident it was a stray hair or loose
thread, I climbed out of bed, switched on
the light — and discovered a huge spider
in my bed. The size of my fist, at least!
And like my 14-month-old neighbor, he
had an expression that said, “Wrong legs! I
thought you were a water spout!”
One thing many of us have in common
is memory foibles, like walking purposely
into a room and not remembering why.
Recently, I checked my account balance
online and was confused to realize it was
$500 less than I expected. I called the bank
and they said, “Um. You were here at 9:15
a.m. and made a withdrawal.” It was 9:30.
It had been 15 measly minutes before, and
I hadn’t remembered!
Mistakes make people smile — usually
other people. Sometimes you need time
to pass before you find your own mistake
amusing, but don’t let too much time pass
because you might forget. I mean, if you’re
like me and forget transactions 15 minutes
after you’ve done them, you probably
won’t remember your stories unless you
write them down.
And now you know why I write the
articles I do!

*

commentary

Nothing Is Black And White

I

n the wee hours of the morning, a
man with an immigrant background
intent on transforming himself into
a killer walked into a crowded gathering
place, populated with people whom he
did not know personally but whom he
abhorred just for the group to which they
belonged.
The man, who
had a connection to
extremist religious
groups that prioritize
coreligionists over all
others and advocate
for blatantly racist and
violent political actions,
had a history of making
Michael J.
discriminatory com-
Koplow
ments about the group
he targeted. He had
expressed public outrage at their actions,
voicing a belief that what they did violated
the morals and tenets of his own religion
and that religious dictate required him to
shun them.
On that fateful early morning, the
man walked into that place — one that
symbolizes so well the country’s divide

on social and political issues — carrying
a semi-automatic assault rifle that he had
legally procured. He took out his weapon
and, firing into an unsuspecting crowd of
hundreds that never in a thousand years
would have imagined that this personal
sanctuary would be the site of their last
moments on Earth, killed dozens of people
and wounded scores more. The killer him-
self did not survive his own carnage and
was justifiably killed in a counter-assault
aimed at halting the ongoing massacre.
How do we decide what factors are to
blame for this truly horrific tragedy? Lots
of it depends on one’s frame of reference.
The description in the above paragraph
is obviously referring to Omar Mateen,
who mowed down 49 people in Orlando at
the gay nightclub Pulse. But it just as easily
refers to Baruch Goldstein, who walked
into the mosque section of the Cave of
the Patriarchs in Hebron on Purim morn-
ing in 1994 and killed 29 worshippers
at morning prayers. Most people would
have similar reactions to these two acts,
but many wouldn’t; and the question is
whether our own biases and sympathies
lead us astray in thinking about terrorism

and what is behind it.
For starters, it seems clear that both
Mateen and Goldstein perpetrated acts of
religiously motivated terrorism. Both men
had links to, or at the very least declared
an allegiance to, a group that carries out
violence in the name of religion. I don’t
mean to equate ISIS with the Kahane
movement since they are miles apart in
terms of ideology, purpose, brutality and
tactics. But both groups instrumentalize
religion for political purposes, and it raises
difficult questions as to how to think about
the role of religion in violence.
If someone commits an act of terrorism,
designed to inflict mass casualties and
send a larger message, and he does so out
of religious fervor, no matter how mis-
guided that fervor may be, it should not be
controversial to link the act to the ideol-
ogy behind it. It beggars belief to insist
that religion had absolutely no bearing
on Mateen’s motivation whatsoever and it
is just a coincidence or a red herring or a
cover for other more salient motivations,
and we should be willing to heap the same
scorn on those who separate Goldstein
from Judaism entirely.

My father, Edwin Glanz, owned and oper-
ated a small, one-man printing opera-
tion at 12048 12th St. in Detroit that was
his father Harry’s before him and was
there since the 1910s, H. Glanz and Sons
Printing.
The “shop” is what we called it, and the
1967 riot left an indelible impression upon
me (“Understanding The 1967 Riot,” June
23, page 14). While heeding the imposed
curfew, upon hearing the news of the riot,
my father and I subsequently took a drive
down to the shop after the smoke had
cleared some days later.
The National Guard escorted us to the
building and, yes, it was still standing,
though charred from the fire. Through
the broken glass we walked in and looked
around and up at the ceiling where there
was water dripping in all over the printing
presses and paper. It was a mess to say the
least.
A few minutes had gone by and a
National Guardsman had come back to
see if we were ready to go and asked my
father, “What are you going to do?”
My father said without a moment of
hesitation, “What am I going to do? My
son and I are going to clean this place up
as best as we can, and then I am going to
put this place back together.”
He was part of that community. His
business was part of that neighborhood for
more than 50 years at the time of the riot
and remained there until he passed away
in 1977.
I can’t help but wonder, if at the time
others had put their places back together,
well, maybe the neighborhoods would
have come back stronger. Just maybe.

Harry J. Glanz
West Bloomfield

Yad Ezra Supporter
Is Remembered

In regards to your article on the dedica-
tion of the greenhouse at Yad Ezra (“Open
House,” June 16, page 22), in addition to
the dedication of the actual greenhouse, a
mezuzah was placed on its door dedicated
to the memory of Susan Lawrence.
Susan, an active Yad Ezra volunteer and
donor, had listed only Yad Ezra as her
beneficiary upon her untimely death last
February.

Caron Goldfine
Farmington Hills

More letters are on page 8.

continued on page 6

June 30 • 2016

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