That's Life 1/22/10

Dear That’s Life,

About a year ago, I was talking to the husband of someone I know, but he did not realize I was the Miriam Wallach who wrote for the paper. “I didn’t realize you were funny,” he said. (Thanks?) But the truth is, I’m often unsure when something I write is humorous. It’s hard for me to tell if what I’ve written is funny or not, and I’m not really good at being funny ‘on purpose.’

My sons are accustomed to wearing the big crocheted kippot that many affectionately refer to as soup bowls: the ones that really cover the entire head. It is seriously a skullcap. They make bobby pins and kippah clips obsolete and, personally, I think they’re cute. Evidently, so did the woman at the ice cream store.

My older son was wearing his khaki green soup bowl kippah with yellow lettering that reads “The Israeli Army” as we walked into the store (note: no, I didn’t have any; still counting points). The woman behind the counter was completely taken with it, but not in the way I expected.              “That hat is so hot!” she exclaimed, pointing at his kippah. Luckily, there was no one else in the store when I thanked her for the compliment and luckily, my son did not correct her. She read the wording out loud and said, “I love Israel and I know a lot about it — and I love to talk about it to the Jewish people who come in here.”

Smiling and being polite, I listened on. “Oh, yes!” she continued. “And his hat is so smart because then it doesn’t fly off and he doesn’t have to wear a yarmulke with it, right?” So I explained that in fact it was not a hat at all but rather a really big yarmulke that serves the same purpose. “Well, I think it’s hot,” she said again and again. I thanked her for the compliment. I then called him by one of his nicknames so he could get his ice cream.

“‘Frankie?!’” she said. “Your boy’s name is ‘FRANKIE?!’ I didn’t know there were Jewish boys names ‘FRANKIE.’”

Still thankful the store was otherwise empty, I explained that she misheard me as I was calling him by a nickname, but his name is really Ezra. “Oooh, I love that name!” she replied. “That name is hot.” At this point, I’d had it. Getting more and more anxious to leave the store, I thanked her again and began to gather my things.

“I love biblical names,” she continued. “And those prophets! I love the prophets — especially the minor ones.”  (It took a minute for me to get that comment but it finally processed.) When she has children one day, she continued, she’s definitely going to give them biblical names. “Well, the Bible is the best baby name dictionary around,” I said, to which she responded, “You’re right!” and proceeded to laugh hysterically. This was not one of those times that I was trying to be funny. Actually, I found her uproarious laughter completely disconcerting.

We headed out the store and wished her a good day. “Come back again soon, Ezra!” she yelled after us. We’ll come back, I thought, but he’ll be wearing a baseball hat.

MLW