They said “light chance of rain” - not chance of light rain. Little did I know that the umbrella is disposable and that it will end up being more like a parachute than an umbrella. But I’m holding on to it, I honestly don’t know why.
HOURS: 5:0 0 -10:0 0 PM WE ARE COMING TO THE MOUNTAINS
TUESDAY, AUGUST 19
ICHUD COLONY IN THE HALL
$50
ADDRES S: 24 0 FORESTBURGH RD, MONTICELLO, NY 12701
$50
Stories that make the song play in your head and morph into something greater than the sum of lyrics and melody; an impetus for introspection and growth.
Based on a Tefila we say on Monday and Thursday, this song was composed by Abie Rotenberg in 1990
Class was over for the day. Curfew was several hours away. It was time to celebrate. Why? Well, every day is worth celebrating, especially when you’re in seminary and the world is yours.
“Devoiry, did you ever go to Gleeda?”
“Huh? Never heard of that one.”
“It’s a really cool ice cream store at the other end of town. Wanna join me for some delicious scoops, or a razzle? They have the most exotic flavors and even some edible sugar-free versions…”
“Actually, I’m not. I’m leaving for Israel in a few days.”
“What are you planning to do there?” Devoiry asked, and was treated to a pinch by Shaindy.
To their surprise, Avigail motioned for them to wait as she made her way to the table and sat down beside them.
Just then, their ice cream arrived.
“Eat, eat. Your ice cream’s gonna melt. I’ll sit here with you until the next customer shows up.”
“Great!” Shaindy took a spoon and scratched the nuts off the tippy top of her pistachio scoop.
“Shaindy, you know I’m always up for a party. Let’s go.”
One car service ride later found the twosome at Gleeda. Surprisingly, the store was empty, and they took their time to peruse the menu. All you could hear was the sound of them breathing and the ticking of the clock overhead. Finally, they made their orders. Then it was time to wait. There was no rush but the silence was a bit unnerving, if not downright awkward. Devoiry took a stab at making small talk with the woman, or rather the girl, behind the register.
“You’re lucky to be working at such a fun place.”
“Totally!”
“What’s your name?”
“Avigail,” she answered, flicking her long, dark bangs away from her face.
“Nice. I’m Devoiry and she’s Shaindy.”
“Cool. By the way, today’s my last day here.”
“Really?” Shaindy piped in, “Are you switching jobs?”
“What were we saying again? Israel. Yes. Why are you going to Israel?”
Avigail paused.
“Ummm…it’s really not your derech.. It doesn’t match your hashkafa…” she faltered.
“Come on, you can tell us. We’re friends already..”
“Well…” she stared at her shiny, pink nails, “I’m joining the Israeli army.” Looking up, she grinned impishly, “I want to be part of Bias HaMoshiach.”
Putting on a cool facade, Shaindy continued eating her ice cream, slowly savoring each lick. Devoiry said a belated, “Oh.”
They shouldn’t have been taken aback; after all, Avigail had warned them that she was doing something out of their box. Quickly, they switched the topic and found plenty to schmooze about.
The conversation ebbed and flowed, and the two sheltered seminary girls pieced together the story of Avigail’s life. She hailed from a frum family in a nearby town but somehow had fallen between the cracks. Learning difficulties…family issues…
social challenges. She was sharing a basement with some friends and had been working at the ice cream store for the past year and a half. A lost soul, wandering, searching for happiness and fulfillment…and most of all, a listening ear.
“So you’re chassidish? I’ve never really spoken to chassidish girls yet. Can I ask you a question? It’s my turn, I guess.”
“Go right ahead”, Devoiry shot back.
“Don’t you ever feel stifled?”
Shaindy and Devoiry glanced at each other and then back at Avigail. This was totally for the books. From the books. Out of the books. A classic Baal Teshuva story.
As usual, it was Devoiry who found her tongue first.
“No. We’re perfectly happy with our lives as they are.”
Shaindy nodded vigorously, wiping the ice cream drippings from under her chocolate-covered cone.
They spoke about the warmth of family, their rich seminary experience until they noticed the darkened skies.
“It’s almost curfew! We’d better get going.”
Shaindy politely turned down Avigail’s offer for a ride (a fellow roommate was on the way) and Devoiry thanked her again for her company.
Avigail escorted them to the door, sizing them up with a mix of amusement and admiration.
“You guys are for sure in shidduchim, right?”
“Yup! For all you know, we could get engaged tomorrow.”
This wasn’t about debating the benefits of getting married young versus taking the long route; it was a question emanating from a sincere Yiddishe heart.
“Give me your names. I want to daven for you.”
“She’s joining the army…asked us a million questions…was wearing a mini skirt…comes from a regular, frum family…”
“Hey, we should ask her for her full tehilim name!” Devoiry announced.
Eager for further adventure, Shaindy undertook to track Avigail down. She called the ice cream store too many times to keep track of, but somehow, Avigail never picked up or was available whenever she called.
“Hashem knows who she is,” Shaindy told Devoiry after another frustrating day of chasing the elusive, wandering soul.
“Let’s daven for Avigail, for her yiddishkeit, for her happiness.”
It was disappointing, to say the least; they wanted their story to continue. Maybe they could even convince her to stay in New York, to come for Shabbos. A perfect tale for Project Inspire or Touched By a Story.
On second thought, man’s efforts aren’t always met with success. But Tefillos, especially for spiritual requests, always yield results.
At 12 am, Devoiry twists and turns as her mind takes her to faraway places….
There she is, the slim, dark-haired Avigail standing at an Egged bus stop. Dressed in an IDF uniform she lugs a heavy knapsack as she waits for the next bus. Avigail waves her phone in front of her face in a feeble attempt to cool herself in the blazing heat. Her feet begin to sweat in those stifling army boots and she thinks about the agonizing training ahead. In this moment of silence, the thought gnaws at her conscience, Why am I here? Is joining the Israeli army really the best way to bring Moshiach?
Grabbing a pen and paper, they scribbled their names, touched by this unexpected gesture.
A short honking sound sent them to the outer door and they waved good bye.
“Daven for me, I’m in such pain,” Avigail called out, her voice ringing in their ears as they headed into the car.
Hindy, their gracious driver, raised her eyebrows.
“Who was that?”
The story came tumbling out.
There is no way she can put herself fully into her job when she doubts her position. Some sweet Yerushalmi girls pass by, chatting amiably. She remembers Shaindy and Devorah, those sweet, innocent and lovable girls from faraway Brooklyn and mumbles a prayer for them. They’re praying for me too, she recalls. Boarding the bus with hesitant steps, her heart flutters with hope. Sometime, somehow, somewhere, she’ll figure this all out. She’ll find her way home.
Along with all of Acheinu Kol Beis Yisroel.
*Have a story you want to share? A website or ad for your business that’s waiting to be written? Esty Steinmetz is a writer and copywriter who can be reached at esty@estysteinmetz.com
