July 11 • 2019 5
jn

views

W

e are quite used to count-
ing off or counting down. 
We all count (no, that 
is not just a warm and fuzzy senti-
ment). Consider some basic ideas 
associated with numbers.
One – the number 
of seconds between 
the light turning 
green and hearing 
the horn behind you 
honk.
Two – the number 
of turtle doves on 
the second day of the 
famous carol. Also, 
supposedly, the number of each ani-
mal ushered into the ark by Noah.
Three – the number after which 
a parent gets to the ultimatum or 
comes up with another warning.
Four – the corners of the Earth, 
which are hard to find on a sphere.
Five – the requisite number of 
fingers for a glove, This, of course, 
excludes mittens and baseball mitts.
Six – the number of courses you 
could be served in a posh restaurant 

(which would include 
a palette cleanser) 
and which no one 
ought to consume on 
a regular basis.
Seven – the days 
of the week. One of 
my punnier students 
once wrote in a text; 
“Seven days of this makes one weak.”
Eight – the number of the ball you 
do not want to find yourself behind; 
it means you are in trouble. It is all 
right if you’
ve pocketed the others 
when shooting pool.
Nine – the usual number of 
months of gestation in humans. 
Things could be worse: Elephants 
gestate for two years!
Ten – usually the number for rec-
ognizing the “top” in a category: top 
10 hits, top 10 reasons for …, top 10 
items on a bucket list, etc. Math used 
to work in base 10, but then I never 
did understand any of that so forget 
that example.
Twenty – the day in March set 
aside, as of 2013, by the United 

Nations as the International Day of 
Happiness. Hey, we could try for 
one day; we give a whole week to 
Brotherhood in February and look 
how well that works (NOT).
Thirty – the number of days 
in September, April, June and 
November. That whole rhyme 
escapes me. I recall it as “Thirty days 
has September, April, June and no 
wonder all the rest are peanut but-
ter except Grandma, who walks to 
work.” Or something like that.
Forty and fifty seem to be fright-
ening milestones for some people. I 
say it’
s better to reach them than not. 
Well, just remember that when it 
comes to strange observations, you 
can COUNT on me. ■

I 

knew I was Jewish before I knew 
what the word meant. I remember 
when I was a little girl my Uncle 
Ronnie’
s friend asked me, “
Are you 
ticklish?” My answer was, “No, I’
m 
Jewish!”
My love of Judaism 
and commitment to 
Jewish causes is in 
my DNA — it comes 
directly from my par-
ents and grandparents. 
My grandparents, no 
matter what their cir-
cumstances, always had 
a tzedakah box. 
My four grandparents came to the 
United States in the late 1920s from the 
Ukraine with nothing in their pockets, 
but they did have faith and hope for a 
better future. 
My father’
s parents came as a mar-
ried couple with their one surviving 
child, Sol. Their other two children 
passed away from illness before they 

left Ukraine. A few years after they 
arrived in the states, my father, and his 
sister, my Aunt Ida, were born here 
in Detroit. Growing up, I heard sto-
ries about how my father grew up in 
a house where he slept on the couch 
because the boarder slept in the extra 
bedroom. His shoes were held together 
with rubber bands. 
My father always described his par-
ents as wonderful and very loving — 
who had very little to give, but always 
managed to scrape together as much as 
they could for those who had less. This 
stuck with me as a young child. It is an 
understatement to say I had incredi-
ble role models who taught me about 
Judaism, the value of an education and 
the principle of tikkun olam.
An “aha” moment came when I 
attended Hebrew school as a young 
teen. Many of my teachers had thick 
accents and wore long sleeves. One day, 
the classroom was steaming hot and 
one of my teachers happened to roll 

up her sleeve, and I saw her tattoo. It’
s 
something I’
ll never forget. Later I 
learned the meaning of what that tattoo 
represented was greater than the actual 
numbers themselves. The emotional 
impact was powerful and was repeat-
ed years later when I first visited Yad 
Vashem. My heart felt as though it 
would burst with sadness and sorrow. I 
realized I was given a great opportunity 
to do something — to make something 
happen that was bigger than myself — 
to wear my Jewishness with pride and 
to do all I could for those who had less. 
In 1972, the economy tanked, and 
the construction industry came to a 
halt just as I was planning to go to col-
lege. My father, a heating and plumbing 
contractor, was hit hard. In 1973, when 
I was graduating from high school, we 
were also changing our lives. We decid-
ed to move into a lovely apartment. 
Here I was, all ready to go to college, 
but not sure it would be possible. My 
folks figured out a way to send me to 

for openers
Number Please

essay
Supporting IDF Soldiers

Sy Manello
Editorial Assistant

Joan Chernoff 
Epstein

continued on page 8

Our Story
Our Story

Click. Call. Give Now. 
www.hfldetroit.org 248.723.8184

Hebrew Free Loan Detroit

6735 Telegraph Road, Suite 300 Bloomfield Hills, MI 48301

@HFLDetroit

Kevin Kellman and Marc Kellman
spent 20 years in a family business
that was doing fine, but wasn’
t what
they really wanted to do. Kevin, who
has a love of cooking, and Marc, the
practical numbers guy, come from a
long line of hard-working entrepreneurs,
so when they looked into a new venture,
pulling together a plan and doing the
work to launch it wasn’
t a problem.
“I’
ve been talking about a food
truck for seven years,” Kevin said.
“Detroit has one of the top foodie
cultures in the U.S. now, and there’
s
potential here for people who love to
cook and people who love to eat.
Those are also things we love, and
there was a business in that, just not
the typical one.”
“What’
s great,” Marc said,” is that a
food truck is far less expensive than
opening a restaurant, and with less
overhead and staff. You also need a
vision, and ours became Brother
Truckers.”
Kevin and Marc knew of Hebrew
Free Loan from friends, and when
they were looking for seed money,
they used their business experience
to research and refine their business
plan and applied to HFL’
s Marvin I.
Danto Small Business Loan Program.
Brother Truckers launched this past
spring, and is gaining a following for
the lunch crowd and catering parties
and events.
“We’
re entering a new season,” Kevin
said, “and we have the opportunity to
learn and grow because HFL was
very supportive, and their willingness
to work with us and help us to be
successful was just phenomenal.”

 
 
 

