Join The Conversation With Mishpacha's Weekly Newsletter
“I’m so happy for you that you had a boy. I’m sure you know my mother gives $10,000 to every grandson named after her father.”
At thirty he could no longer get into a kollel in America. The time for a move would be over. When he had married Tzivi, his in-laws had provided an apartment. Stuck in Yerushalayim. He felt a red shame creep up his face. You sheigetz! This is Yerushalayim.
“And I see that there’s not even a kippah on your head, Hashem yerachem, a sheigetz you’ve become, one of those shkutzim on the streets and maybe are you taking ich veis those types of cigarettes that have chemicals, those drugs…”
Once you passed a certain age, he maintained, learning was an indulgence to be reserved for the early hours of the morning, and a little more at night — before, or after, one worked up a sweat to earn one’s daily bread. How could I argue with that? He had given me all I had.