A story from the Moshav

Shira's father, R' Dovid Hertzberg z'l wrote the following story in the second chapter of his joke book. The joke book is a collection of jokes, stories, and recollections from R' Shlomo Carlebach, his followers and friends, otherwise known as the chevrah... Sometimes a little disjointed, sometimes nonsensical, they are always wonderful. Reading through the joke book makes you laugh, smile and cry. The stories run the gamut of emotion, you can always find a deeper or hidden meaning in them. Sometimes a simple story or a joke which has a punch line which you had to be there for, brings back something. I picture R' Dovid and R' Shlomo sitting with a group of friends and laughing into the night. I never had the pleasure of meeting Shira's abba, but through his stories, I hope to learn a little about who he was, the importance of being happy, and enjoying a good joke.

From the joke book, chapter 2, Dovidl's Jokes.

It was Friday night at the Moshav, and the Rebbe was going strong. We were all in the synogogue that was exquisitely painted by the famed artist Reb Yitschak ben Yehuda. He and his wife Rivka had been on the Moshav for some twenty years, ever since the school bus they were living in broke down. Sitting in this beautiful Shul (synogogue) with Reb Shlomo was truly a taste of the Garden of Eden. The teaching and the prayers went on for hours, and It was almost midnight by the time we got to 'Shalom Aleichem,' welcoming in the Shabbos angels. It seems the angels had a worthwhile wait as Reb Shlomo sang slowly and melodiously, swaying back and forth with his eyes toward heaven.

The holy Kiddush wine was flowing freely but our Rebbe gently taught us that the whole world drank in order to forget, but we Yidden drink wine to remember. The main thing, he said was that, G-d forbid, a person should never get drunk on Shabbos; but then he reminded us that we have to be drunk from Shabbos. So, too, we drink wine under the wedding canopy to remind ourselves that we should be drunk with love for each other. We ate, drank and sang for hours, and I don't remember anyone getting drunk. But we were certainly flying high that Shabbos. By the time we stood in front of Reb Shlomo's house on the Moshav I couldn't tell anymore what I was drunk from, but it seemed like an appropriate moment to tell one of my favorite jokes. I'd heard it from my good friend Reb. Fred.

Once there was a guy who went into a bar and ordered two scotches on the rocks. The bartender brought him a double scotch on the rocks. The guy started complaining saying, 'I ordered two single shots, not one double shot.' The bartender took back the double scotch, muttered something under his breath and brought back two single shots. They guy drank the first one and then crank the second one, saying 'cheers!' Now this went on for a month, and the bartender finally said to himself, 'I can't take it anymore. I have to ask this guy what's going on.' So the next night he said to the guy, "Hey Buddy, I know it's none of my business but could you tell me why you have to drink two single scotches everyday at the exact same time, five o'clock?" The guy started getting nostalgic. "Well, Joe, I'll tell you the truth. I have a buddy I served with in the army in Vietnam, and when we got out of Nam, he joined the Navy. We swore to each other that every day at five PM, wherever we were, we would both drink two scotches on the rocks and say 'cheers'; I do it twice, once for him and once for me. And he says 'cheers' twice, once for me and once for him. And that's the reason." After the guy left the bar, Joe the bartender turned to his regular customers, and with a tear in his eye he told of this guy's story to everybody. "Can you imagine? His buddy is out in the middle of the sea and he's here and the both of them are always connected, toasting each other and themselves. That's just so touching." By this time just about everyone at the bar was crying. Now this two-drink ritual continued for another six months until one fateful day the guy came into the bar at 5:00 and ordered one single shot of scotch on the rocks. Joe the bartender began trembling and was afraid to ask what happened to his buddy in the Navy. But the regulars kept signalling to Joe to ask him.

Finally, with trepidation, Joe asked: "Hey, listen, I don't mean to be nosy but I noticed you only ordered one drink. Is your buddy OK?" "Oh yeah," the guy answered, "he's as fine as can be." "Well then," Joe continued, "what's going on? How come you only ordered one drink?" "Oh," said the guy, "that's because I stopped drinking!"

Shlomo laughed hysterically and then said, "Dovid'l, that's a great joke. Where did you hear if?" I said, "where else Reb Shlomo? At the bar!"

In search of a bagel

The first call went something like this: “Good Morning, we would like to order bagels, lox and spreads for a dozen people, two dozen bagels, a salad platter, etc”. The order confirmed, we sat easy waiting for the time to pick it up. A couple hours later, we wanted to check on a detail of the veggie platter, wouldn’t it be a good idea to get some salad dips and maybe some chopped egg? Our second call resulted in another “sure, no problem” and everything was right as rain. On the way to the Moshav, we called a third time to make sure the store was kosher, something it may have been smart to check the first time, but in Israel its easy to assume based on the location it probably is. Assured everything was kosher, we hung up feeling satisfied (and hungry); our bagel plans were on track. Sitting in traffic for an hour from Tel Aviv, we began to worry the store might be closed by the time we got there, our fourth call confirmed our order, established the bagel place was open 24 hours a day, and we had nothing to worry about. After a quick stop on the Moshav to pick up my Dad, we headed to Modi’in and the bagel place.

I had a bad feeling when the bagel place (which is what it said on the sign) didn’t have a single bagel on display. Additionally, all the salads seemed to have been the type which come straight from a can and are used in “toast” or grilled cheese. Not deterred, we waltzed up to the counter and asked for our order. The girl behind the counter seemed puzzled and put us on the phone with the owner. “So” he asked, “when would like your order for? Bagels? We don’t really have them, but we can order then from Jerusalem for you.” The girl who took the order seemed in shock. Everything worked out in the end, we went to the supermarket and bought packages of lox, different cheeses and salad and together with the baked ziti Shira had made, it all came together. I guess four phone calls, orders and confirmations are not enough to establish the bagel place is actually a grilled cheese on bread place, and does not really deal in bagels. Oh well, we know for next time.