First off, I need to admit here that Yom Ha’Shoah should have been a more thoughtful occasion around here, but we’ve been so preoccupied with the new home (I’m painting the kitchen a cheery shade called “green herb” El Yenta Man thinks that’s just hilarious) that it sort of fell off the radar. Although I did walk through the rather gory multimedia exhibit at the JEA by the some of Savannah’s mostly non-Jewish high schoolers last week, dozens of dioramas of barbed wire and Jude stars and old photographs. As much as the public school system lacks, they’re teaching the Holocaust, bless their hearts.
Strangely, I don’t recall Rabbi Belzer mentioning it all at services Friday eve, though maybe he did when I was outside disciplining Little Miss Shpilkiss for sailing her brother’s yarmulke across the sanctuary like a frisbee. In any case, yesterday was Holocaust Remembrance Day, a day on which we are implored to “never forget.” Which, of course, I did. So I’m saying an extra kaddish this morning for the six million and all the other souls who died unjustly, without mercy, in Europe under Hitler’s evil reign. Heck, let it be said for everybody killed out of senseless prejudice, wherever and whenever.
Moving on. Many of you may be relieved to know that I got my mezuzah queries answered by a young rabbi visiting the Senior Yenta Lunch last week. Actually, it was his wife who told me to go ahead and place it between the screen door and the actual door into the house, because her husband wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Must’ve been the bare shoulders. Wish I could say it was the cleavage, but I don’t have any. His disregard kind of annoyed me, since here I am attempting to a mitzvah the right way instead on my usual slap-dash-God-forgive-me style, and this rabbi’s shining me on instead of providing guidance. His rebbitzin was maybe all of 20 or 21, really smart and adorable. I wanted to ask her all kinds of other questions about her frum lifestyle, like Is your hair really that red under the sheitel? Is your husband always so talkative? Do you ever put bubble bath in the mikveh? but I still felt like her old man was giving me the stinkeye. But I tend to be intimidated by the Orthodox, so maybe he was just shy, or just super into eating his chicken.
The good news is that the gorgeous turquoise enameled mezuzah I found online was twenty bucks cheaper at the syngagogue gift shop. It hasn’t gone up yet, since we’re still weeks away from moving in completely. Gotta wait for the green herb to dry.