Two New York Jews Meet In Mexico For The First Time

I was in the coffee house with my 

friend, B., who grew up in Connecticut, 

and my friend, L., who grew up in Rhode

Island, joined us at the table. Ok, ok!

Neither was from New York, but they 

might as well could have been!

Anyway, when they recognized that they

were with each other, (they'd never met),

It was as if I had become a vague 

memory in front of them. They began 

talking to  each other intently, but I 

couldn't quite hear what they were 

saying...or, maybe it was that I couldn't 

understand what they were talking about,

as if they'd suddenly clicked into a secret 

genetic language, or, that they were 

reliving memories of the diaspora in code. 

They kind of melted into the same body

language: arms crossed on the table, 

slightly hunched, leaning a bit forward,

like gorillas that had been separated in 

the zoo at some point, but immediately

recognized each other after a separation

of ten years. They were catching up on 

experiences that they never had together,

but each, in their own lives, had had 

similar experiences. You could see the 

"oys" and the "veys" as invisible 

parentheses. I had the blood of a Jew, 

but not the culture. No wonder they were

called a "lost tribe", because it seemed

that they had recognized that they had

found each other. I couldn't join in, 

because I was no longer relevant.