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6 | SEPTEMBER 26 • 2019 

essay

Memories of High 
Holidays Past
A 

few weeks ago, I sat 
at the annual pre-
High Holiday writers 
meeting in the conference 
room at the offices of 
the Jewish News, trying 
desperately to contribute to 
the story ideas 
being bantered 
about for this 
Rosh Hashanah 
edition. 
While my 
esteemed 
award-winning 
colleagues were 
coming up 
with intellectual, thought-
provoking topics, I can’
t 
express the angst I was feeling 
trying to come up with 
something worthy of putting 
in the High Holidays issue 
that wouldn’
t get me written 
out of the Book of Life. Then 
again, most columns I write 
put me at risk. 
I’
ve gotten a whole new 
level of joy from the High 
Holidays as a father than I 
did as a kid. I mean, nothing 
compares to sitting in shul 
and looking down the aisle 
at my wife, and now adult 
children, and reflecting 
on how lucky I am. Made 
even more rewarding if I 
had secured a great getaway 
parking space.
Speaking of getaways … 
while I was the furthest thing 
from a troublemaker as a little 
boy, there was something 
about attending High Holiday 
services at Adat Shalom more 
than 50 years ago on Curtis in 
Detroit that brought out the 

mischievousness 
in me. 
Unlike today’
s 
more evolved and 
engaging children’
s 
services, back 
then, the kids’
 
services were held 
in cramped, hot, 
chaotic classrooms while our 
parents were sequestered in 
what was then considered 
forbidden Days of Awe 
territory for children (insert 
echo) … The Main Sanctuary! 
Those in charge of us kids 
had to feel like they were 
herding cats — or Katz — if 
you prefer.
The only time things 
settled down in those sessions 
was when we were forewarned 
that we were about to be 
visited by (insert echo) … the 
rabbi! 
In my day, that was the 
distinguished and beloved 
Rabbi Jacob Segal, who served 
the congregation for 30 
years, until illness cut short 
his tenure. Perhaps you can 
relate to this, but back in the 
day, at least to me, the rabbis 
seemed, forgive me, a little 
scarier, and I say that as a 
term of endearment.
To this impressionable and 
chronically nervous youngster, 
the rabbi represented the 
epitome of authority and 
when he arrived at our High 
Holiday children service, it 
seemed, in the eyes of this 
child, as serious as when 
Moses descended Mt. Sinai. 
And, remember, Moses wasn’
t 
happy when he (sing) came 

around the mountain when he 
came. The rabbi approached 
in breathtaking fashion, much 
like the dinosaur in Jurassic 
Park, each step leaving a 
ripple effect in its wake. He 
added a little extra “awe” in 
the Days of Awe. 
I plotted and broke out 
of children services on a few 
occasions, usually walking to 
a store on Livernois where I 
was first introduced to those 
tiny little wax Coke-looking 
bottles that had juice in them. 
You’
d drink the juice and 
then chew on the wax. Yep, I 
was a High Holiday escaped 
convict. A real renegade.
Then there’
s the time — I 
couldn’
t have been more than 
10 years old — when I snuck 
out of the children’
s Rosh 
Hashanah service and decided 
to surprise my parents by 
being a big boy and walking 
by myself to Grandma Helen 
and Grandpa Sam’
s house 
a few miles away for the 
post-service meal. The only 
problem was, the meal was 
being served at Grandma 
Molly and Grandpa Isadore’
s 
house.
My version of Home 
Alone ended when one of 
my brothers assigned to the 
search team found me an 

hour later perched patiently 
on the wrong grandparents’
 
stoop. You know you’
re 
getting old when you use the 
word stoop in a sentence. By 
the way, I was not afforded 
the overjoyed welcome from 
my parents that Macaulay 
Culkin received when he was 
found.
Meanwhile, my High 
(Anxiety) Holiday nerves 
would revisit me years later 
when, as an “adult,” I was 
given the honor of lifting the 
Torah for all the congregation 
to see. Of course, it being a 
new year, we’
re talking about 
a Torah that was weighted 
completely to one side. Drop 
it and the entire congregation 
would have to fast.
What do we learn from 
this? If you’
re going to drop 
a Torah, drop it on Yom 
Kippur. You’
re already fasting. 
And that suggestion may have 
just sealed my Yom Kippur 
fate. 
L’
Shanah tovah tikatevu. 

Alan Muskovitz is a writer, voice-
over/acting talent, speaker, 
and emcee. Visit his website 
at laughwithbigal.com,“Like” Al 
on Facebook and reach him at 
amuskovitz@renmedia.us.

Alan 
Muskovitz
Contributing 
Writer

