"Bechol levovcha -- with both your good and evil
inclinations." There are lessons to be learned from the
alacrity we sometimes exhibit for whims -- to adapt them to
the activities that are really meaningful. Or to seize the
right opportunity when it is ripe, before it slips out of
our hands and becomes stale.
Some people collect stamps, single socks, sentimental
souvenirs. I could trace my social activities,
simchas, shopping expeditions by a sizeable selection
of solitary earrings. A nostalgic trip down memory lane
could be inspired by a glance into a drawer, an evening bag,
a jewelry box, wherein resided a solitary earring.
Instantly, I could be transported back in time by a sparkle
of rhinestones, a gleam of gold, star bright silver or
lustrous pearls. A picturesque, wordless diary of doings.
I persevered with preventative measures, but to no avail.
The screw-back style, if tightened a trifle too much, would
produce pure agony within minutes. The more secure no
nonsense clip backs couldn't have been too Jewish because
they were completely merciless. Needless to say, the few
moments of testing and trying on in the store were
completely comfortable. Since my ears weren't pierced, there
was no point in any heavy financial investments. My
daughters had long since sported earrings that were shiny,
solid, secure and 14K gold. A good part of my impromptu
exercise came from scouting around on floors, under beds and
bus seats for that illusive item.
As Shlomo Hamelech so aptly observed, "For everything there
is a time." My `time' came one rain drenched winter evening
at 6:50 p.m. in the holy city of Jerusalem. Standing at the
sink slicing squash into a simmering vegetable soup, I
suddenly saw a sign flash across my mind: "Pierce your ears
NOW!"
Obviously, it was a heavenly decree I couldn't deny.
Throwing a glance at the clock, I saw it was ten minutes to
countdown, or rather, closing time. The adrenaline started
coursing through my veins -- not a moment to lose.
Simultaneously, I shut the fire and struggled into a coat on
top of a housedress, while removing an apron and feeling my
way into damp boots. (Sometimes, one has to be a
contortionist, too.) Grabbing a purse and an umbrella that
had been left dripping by the door, I sang out to the
startled offspring, "Be back soon IY"H."
Trying not to make too much noise, I climped down two
flights of stairs. Constantly, I was aware of the fact that
we had five children to marry off. In addition, we were also
the only American family on that side of the building, which
gave me a feeling of representing the U.S. of A. in most of
my actions, somewhat of a goodwill ambassador. And this -- I
haven't yet mentioned -- was during the 13-year period that
we were living in the Meah Shearim area. Not to worry about
the impression we were making. At the bashert time,
our two lovely older daughters floated down those very steps
in their wedding gowns.
Winding my way briskly through the twists and turns, nooks
and crannies of Botei Ungaren, I finally emerged on Rechov
Meah Shearim. Dashing between cars and into puddles, I
arrived, breathless, at my destination. This was a small
jewelry store, where an older chassid pierced ears
proficiently and professionally, so I had heard. Several
times, I had purchased gift items there. To my intense
dismay and disappointment, I saw that he had just removed
the key from the heavy lock and had pulled down the rusting
metal chain shutters. His wife was arranging her packages
and they were about to depart.
Trying to catch my breath and sound coherent, I announced
dramatically in Yiddish, "I need to have my ears pierced,
please!" "Very fine," he replied calmly, not realizing how
momentous a decision this was for me, one that might never
return, and explained that at 9:30 the next morning he
hoped, please G-d, to open the store and be happy to
accommodate me. Apparently the urgency of the situation was
completely lost on this naive couple.
"Excuse me," I continued with a rising note of desperation
in my voice, "but please, it absolutely has to be right
now." How to convey to them that this was the destined
moment as the wind rattled my umbrella and wreaked havoc
with my sheitel?
Pikuach neffesh everyone understands; Prompt
Imperative Piercing -- few comprehend. For years I had
waited for this feeling -- fearless, unafraid, I was now
completely prepared. Tomorrow -- hesitation and trepidation
would return in full force. This was a critical crisis.
Whether it was the weather or my powers of persuasion, I'll
never know. The kind couple exchanged glances as if to say,
"What can you expect from an Amerikaner?" Perhaps this was
only my imagination. For all they knew, I might be marrying
off my daughter that evening... He shrugged his shoulders
and she sighed audibly and they set about unlocking the
store. "Mr. Piercer" opened the lights while the Missus
showed me a tray of earrings. Quickly I selected a pair,
certainly not wishing to take any more of their time. I
didn't even ask the price, which is far from my typical
style of shopping. The earrings weren't only ornamental, the
back was sharpened well and became the surgical
instrument.
Somehow he managed, without as much as touching the client
and with his wife's able assistance, to produce a modest
hole in my earlobe. As I vividly recall, after one ear was
done, I was ready to rise and leave the premises. The
process fell, almost, into the category of dentists' chairs
and delivery tables. However, a deep sense of obligation
kept me nervously seated there while he completed the
surgery. Thanking them profusely and paying promptly, I fled
into the stormy night.
A feeling of gratitude and relief pierced my heart, while a
throbbing pain pierced my ears. The deed was done. It's
really amazing how living in Eretz Yisroel gives you a
strength and courage you never thought yourself capable
of.
