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In keeping with our annual theme of miracles, Betty seems to think it’s a miracle that I’m still alive. You see, I have a problem. Whenever I see a lady wearing something “Gucci” with the label poking up against her neck, I go a little bit nuts. I have this compulsion to sneak up behind the culprit and tuck the label where it belongs. I have actually noticed price tags still on a garment and, in such cases, I’m absolutely beside myself with the need to remove them. Over the years, I have stifled these urges by pointing them out to Betty, with a wild look in my eye, and she quickly runs over to whisper to the tagged victim that a problem exists. Betty is so sweet that, invariably, they just give her a big thank you, while she goes behind and handles the problem.

Last week we went to a bat mitzvah, our first, and sat immediately behind a tall young man, who had a white yarmulke atop his head and a white silk tallit (or shawl) on top of his very black sweater. I was horrified to observe a single white thread descending from under the shawl, starkly silhouetted against that black background. Although this varied from my usual compulsive situation, which historically has involved women, it triggered an urge that was almost instinctive: I wanted to help. Being of the same sex, I saw no need to involve Betty. I leaned forward, got hold of the errant thread and pulled, expecting it to come off in my hands like a piece of lint. Instead, it just got longer. Now I had a real problem. I couldn’t just leave a lengthened thread hanging down the man’s back. So, I gave a righteous tug. Now a squiggling, corkscrew thread adorned his back. He spun around with a serious look on his face. I proudly showed him that part of the offending thread which I had just harvested and, without so much as a “thank you,” he turned away and continued chanting in Yiddish.

Betty was horrified. She whispered that the Rabbi had specifically mentioned the tallit was supposed to have fringes. I quietly responded that I had assumed he meant on the ends, not along its entire length. Then Betty put some distance between us, apparently unwilling to bask in my reflected glory, or not wanting to get blood on her clothes should the man I was helping decide to take me out. The chant ended, he tucked his shawl tightly under his collar and with an air of forgiveness, ignored me. I was grateful!     

This incident taught me the truth of Will Rogers quote:
“Good judgment comes from experience and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.”

May all of your little mistakes end with miraculous and peaceful outcomes!
Forgiveness and appreciation is followed by Joy…

The Hatches

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