Tuesday, January 12, 2016

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. 


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