That's Life 12-4
Dear That’s Life,
We’re lucky to have family we like living all over the globe, and our latest adventure was an extra-long weekend in Toronto. We had two days to explore the city by a reasonable commute of bus and metro from our cousin’s house in the North York neighborhood. A few things stood out for us New Yorkers: first, how clean the city is and, second, how polite and law abiding people seem to be.
On our first venture into the city, after only a couple of stops on the subway and many more to go, all service was suddenly suspended. We were directed to shuttle buses and followed the crowd out of the station to the street. People looked a little annoyed but didn’t react much yet. We took a taxi into the heart of the city with no idea how we were going to get back later, but enjoyed ourselves walking around for a few hours anyway. When we got tired we began to venture back, fearing we’d have to contend with the rush hour crowd of thousands of irate passengers. We took a halting train back to the affected station, got out and followed hundreds of passengers slowly shuffling towards special buses, which were taking commuters to the working stations of the subway line. The crowds moved quietly and smoothly.
Only one man complained aloud to a transit official, offering his alternative solution to the problem. The official calmly explained that the method had already been tried and didn’t work; he then reminded the passenger that while he’d soon be home, the subway workers would be up all night fixing the problem for the next morning’s commute. The complainer moved along. People grumbled about the upcoming fare hike, but nobody yelled or shoved, everything remained orderly and soon we were on the bus, tired but amazed at the civility of this town.
Can you imagine the distress and cursing if our Far Rockaway line service was halted? We New Yorkers are hardly known for emotional restraint.
I won’t even get into the unbelievable honor system of getting onto the subway by dropping coins into an often-unattended see-through fare box (which doesn’t count your money). What’s that about?
Miriam Bradman Abrahams
Woodmere
Dear That’s Life,
As parents, we are not always convinced our children are listening to us; in fact, most of the time, they’re not. Being ignored may prompt a parent to exclaim, “Am I speaking a foreign language?” or “Is there any sound coming out of my mouth?” Don’t worry: you are not alone and you’re not going crazy. You’re just a parent.
We have not been in Israel as a family for over a year. While we were there, however, we spent a lot of quality time with my cousins, all of whom are sarcastic (genetic trait) and refer to the Arabs as “our cousins.” My son, not even five years old at the time, clearly picked up on that and filed it deep inside his brain. It seems that at that moment, he was not ignoring us at all.
Recently reading a book in Hebrew about Chanukah, we came across a sentence that said that Jews exclaimed they would not daven to a ‘pesel’ or ‘idol.’ That simple line prompted the following conversation:
“Mommy,” he said, “what’s a ‘pesel’?” to which I responded, “Oh, come on, you know.” “Oh, right!” he exclaimed, “it’s an ‘idol.’” I nodded that he was correct. “That’s what our cousins daven to,” he added.
“What!” I asked in confusion. “Our cousins,” he said again. “You know, the ones who daven on the other side of the Kotel!”
I can only imagine what he has been telling people in school.
MLW
Note: Last week’s article was not meant to cause any alarm and I appreciate all of the inquiries. B”H, mother and daughter are now both doing well.
