Thursday, May 25, 2006
Sometimes I have E.S.P. moments, if they could be called such. I'll envision something happening, and it does. Or I'll have a song in my head, and then hear it. Or I'll be thinking strongly of someone, and they'll call.
The most intense experience I ever had was when I lived in the Brooklyn Ghetto. Unfortunately, certain people would send out "shmear letters." These would come in the mail, or be placed on our doorsteps. The sender would air out the dirty laundry going on within a Brooklyn Ghetto organization. Names would be named, fingers would be pointed. I was a part of this drama, because I would actually read them (instead of throwing them in the garbage where they belonged).
Anyway, one time there was some nasty business going on in one of the Brooklyn Ghetto kashrus establishments. A certain person got really shmeared. Anyway, I was drifting off in my rocking chair, thinking of him. I thought, "He's probably a very nice guy. I mean, what if I was on the Avenue with my double stroller, and had a hard time getting into a store? He'd probably be a real mentsch and hold the door for me."
You can guess what happened that week. And when it did, I freaked out - big time. I mean, is that weird or what?