Jewish life – Page 2 – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

Issues on Coney Island Avenue

Marc was busy studying his Tehillim and Gemara. The last few weeks went by without a hitch. Work was fine. Spring training kicked off. He went on two dates with two different ladies. They amounted to nothing. But he tried.

He met up with Alana a few times. They went bowling, went to the Victoria Confino tour at the Tenement Museum. Marc has seen it many times. He felt a connection to it. They argued and had deep conversations about life and where it was going. He bumped into Jen a few times. Her relationship with her new guy was going well. She was happy. She was really forgetting about her past. If only Marc and Alana could. Doubtful it’d happen.

He invested in a few companies and took things slow. He spent his free time learning and training. He anxiously awaited the rabbi to call again. But he knew he had more learning to do and the rabbi would call at the right time.

He went to Coney Island Avenue and Avenue J. His uncle used to shop there. He once dated a woman from this area. He strolled down the blocks picked up some groceries and wine.

His phone was ringing. His grandmother. They spoke for a few minutes and made plans to get together in a few days. They were going to go to Doody’s to pick up some things for her house. Marc remembered going there with his dad. He’s not sure he’s been there since he was about 7.

The Yeshiva kids were leaving school and heading to the pizza shop. All was well.

All of s sudden, a car went flying down Coney Island Avenue and Avenue L and smacked into a packed yellow school bus. The bus driver hit the brakes, as the bus skidded several feet down the block.

The driver got out of the car and started running like a madman. No way was Marc going to let this be a hit and run.

He handed his packages to one of the frumsters and said he’d be back. He asked the kid to watch his stuff and promised him falafel or whatever food he wanted. The kid took the bags and started to pray.

Marc ran after the driver. Meanwhile, Hatzolah and the NYPD arrived. Thankfully the bus driver and students were ok. A few minor bruises that were treated onsite. The kids texted their parents about the accident and said they needed to be picked up.

Marc cornered the driver. The guy was shaking. Marc asked him why he ran? The guy spoke in gibberish. Marc was about to dial 911 on his iPhone when the man pulled out a Glock and pointed it at Marc and told him he was going to blow his head off.

Marc tensed up and started singing verses from Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs. He was thinking of the abundance of seeds the pomegranate contains. The man kept the gun aimed at Marc’s face. Marc didn’t care. He kept singing. He arms got thicker. His hands bulged. His well-built legs got heavier. The man’s finger was on the trigger, as he pulled it, Marc’s wrist flipped pomegranates. They and the bullet collided. Marc ducked as the bullet’s flight patch was interrupted. He shot a few more out and nailed the man in his hand. The gun fell to the ground. Marc dialed 911 and reported that a man with a gun tried to shoot him. But he was able to kick the gun out of his hand.

Sirens blared. Marc wasn’t sure if he should stay. He kept on the phone and said he was running into the nearby medical center to be checked out and couldn’t wait. But assured them that the man would be tied up. Marc tied up the man and went back to the scene of the accident. He grabbed his groceries. He gave the kid $20 for a meal and ran to the Q.

Marc’s spiritual connection

Marc’s rabbi called. He carefully listened to every word he said. He went on to discuss in detail bringing barley to the temple on Pesach, Maimonides’ notes about honey aiding one’s memory. Marc took a deep breath. The rabbi then went on to discuss the meanings behind the pomegranates at a Sephardic Rosh Hashanah meal, its symbolism of fertility and love, its placement on ancient Judean coins and the 613 seeds they contain.

The rabbi seemed to think Marc, who is a very spiritual person, was having a great connection to the Holy Land and the Torah. He urged him to continue his studies.

The rabbi instructed him to read certain Tehillim portions each morning and to touch base in a few weeks. Marc knew his mission. Marc promised the rabbi he would only use his powers for good.

Now as for that fertility and love portion, he well you know, texted Alana.

Pomegranate — 24 Alana has a heart…

Tzipora was out with the Eran, the guy she hooked up with at the Simple Minds concert. They sipped some red at the Highline. She was having fun. However, she had Alana on her mind. For some reason most people do. She stings you like never before.

She and Eran walked hand in hand along the elevated linear park. They stopped for gelato, which she proceeded to spill all over herself. Her shorts ate more of it than she did. The two just laughed and kept walking.

Meanwhile, Alana was reeling from some job interviews and lack of feedback. She wasn’t really looking that hard. But keeping her options open. Some recruiters called her. So she talked.

She was more on the lookout for a new guy. She knew what she wanted. But was that what she really needed. She was still confused about her powers. One day she figured she and Marc could discuss each other’s and join forces. But she wasn’t sure if that’d really work.

She walked out of her office on this beautifully sunny day to grab a hot dog and a soda. All the usual folks were strolling Lexington Avenue near Grand Central. She walked down Madison Barley11 while biting into her mustard topped dog.

People who didn’t respond annoy her. Especially after they made the first move. Oh well. She hiked back to the office.

She finished her day and went to the gym. The place was loaded with the Miriam types. Of course, Alana was in better shape than all of them. She had the same money. Just not the attitude.

One of the girls started staring at her. Alana kept running. She left the treadmill and headed over to the bench press. She started lifting and was feeling great. However, that woman was still eyeing her. Alana wondered if word got out about her night with Tzipora. But doubted it. Tzipora wouldn’t say a word and Alana surely would not.

Alan and the stalker went to the locker room. Both showered and left the facility. All of a sudden the woman who was eyeing Alana whipped out a large knife and started running around Madison Avenue scratching cars.

“Why don’t you stop. I saw you looking at me in the gym. Do you need help from me?”

The woman continued to key cars. Then she said, ’’’Ya know, you seem to have it together. You look great and seem comfortable being you.”

Alana cracked up. The other lady kept at it with the knife. Alana had enough. She walked away for a minute. She hoped this woman would stop. She did not. Alana raised her arms and opened her hands. Figs shot out at the woman’s hands. She dropped the knife. Alana knocked her off her feet.

“Listen, I don’t really have it together. But I’m glad that you think I do. Let me get you home.”

Alana took the woman home.

Pomegranate 23 — Marc is hospitalized

Marc went to Staten Island to visit mom. She barbequed hamburgers and hot dogs for lunch. She had all kinds of salads.

She had honey cookies for dessert. I love honey cookies. “Hey, how come you didn’t add any barley or pomegranates to the salad,” he asked.

“Oh stay away from the cookies. Forgot about you and honey.”

“What?”

“You won’t remember. But when you were about three on Rosh Hashanah your grandmother had honey, pomegranates, barley and other stuff. You started eating it all and nearly died.”

She went out to tell him the story. This had been kept from him. His grandmother came around with all of his is so called weapons. He started eating them and turned bright red. He began to shake and become short of breath. His mom flipped out. Everyone figured it was an allergic reaction. He was panting and shook even more. His mom raced him outside to the car and took him to the ER.

He was triaged. The doctors kept him for a few days. He suffered from anaphylaxis and infant botulism. His little arms and legs grew hives and were swollen. His face was beet red. He was put on an IV. He was discharged. The end result was that honey caused the problem. He suffered allergic reactions to the barley and pomegranates. Apparently, the mixture of all three items was nearly deadly.

His mom never let him have these items again. He was told to not to eat them because he might be allergic. He had no memory of trying them again. He was wondering if this is what sparked his powers.

He emailed a trusted rabbi in the Old City. He knew he’d call him back. He always did. While he waited he kept thinking about what happened to him. He wanted to pull the medical records. Of course, this incident happened over 40 years ago. But he sent an email to the hospital.

The rabbi called him back. He opened by blessing Marc. They made some small chit-chat. Marc gave him an abridged synopsis of what was happening. The rabbi was very interested in this. He thought of some of the prophets. He told him he would check some Talmudic scriptures and get back to him. He blessed him again.

As they hung up the hospital records arrived on his phone.

Pomegranate — 21 Marc has a date, Alana is taunted

Jen and Jake were at Terminal 5 to see Simple Minds. Marc was there, too. He was with his new friend, Miriam. She was a typical JAP. He had liked and disliked those women. But he was trying anything to get out of the Alana-Jen web. He hated general admission SRO shows. Years ago, he had a bad experience at Irving Plaza while seeing the B-52s.

Alana was there. She was with Brad, some guy she met a few days ago. He was a low key guy. She could easily control him. He probably wanted it. Tzipora was lurking around. She was solo.

None of the “friends” saw each other. A great mix of the Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, Depeche Mode, Roxy Music, and Bauhaus was playing. Alana was pleased. She was also yearning for a little Duran Duran in the pre-show tracks.

The line to the ladies’ room was unbearable. The women were waiting. None of them were too far away from each other. But their eyes never met.

Jim Kerr took the stage. The audience went wild. Marc and Miriam were drinking Sierra Nevada Pale Ales. Jen was sipping Rum and diet Pepsi. Her beau was drinking water. Cute. But lame. Alana was pissed they had no Arak. But was doing shots of Grey Goose. Tzipora was dancing away with her Brooklyn Lager.

The audience was singing along as they were sanctifying themselves. Marc and Miriam were embraced. Alana was sort of happy. She was in complete control. But at a loss. This was too easy for her. Her mind drifted to Marc. Then Tzipora. Then she looked at Brad. Too clean cut. But has some sort of sex appeal. She needed to get to know him better. They needed to have conversations and understand each other.

As the band started strumming, “Belfast Child,” Marc’s eyes scanned the room. He saw Jen dancing with Jake and Alana holding Brad’s hand. He was happy. Yet not.

Alana pushed her way with Brad closer to the stage. He followed like a puppy. She smacked right into Marc. They looked at each other and sneered.

“Do you know her, “inquired Miriam? “Whatcha gonna say, Marc,” belted out Alana?

Marc stuttered. “Hmm, yes, we’ve known each other for most of our lives.”
“Marc I’m surprised at you. Look at her. She’s so not your type.” Marc shivered.

“What’s wrong with her, Miriam?”

“Well look at me and her. Tell me what do you see?”

Meanwhile, Jen was dancing like the daffy girl she is. But she was feeling good. Then she saw the others. She sensed they were getting ready for a brawl. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Should she stay where she was? Or should she get herself closer? But why would she want to ruin a potentially good new relationship? Jake is a good guy. He had a decent job and seems to care about Jen. But after all, Jen is Jen. So she and Jake walked toward the others.

While this was going on Tzipora was trying to hook up with some guy. She was also eyeing a petite blonde female.

“I see a beautiful woman.”

Miriam laughed. “Look at how she’s dressed.”

“What’s the matter, girl? Did you not expect to see goth girls at tonight’s show? Did you daddy buy your clothes? And all of your jewelry? Are they paying your mortgage?”

“Marc I think we need to move away. This girl is batty.”

Marc stood frozen. “You’re very pretty, Miriam. Alana and I go way back.”

“That’s right we do. He took me to his special places, such as his summer camp. I’m sure you went to one of those camps where they did your laundry and made your bed.”

“Marc I know we are just getting to know each other. And you should be thankful you are sipping drinks and are dancing with me. Not this freak.”

Jen was taking it all in. She grabbed Jake and started kissing him. The band played.

“Hey, girlie, you’re the freak. Maybe we should compare notes? I’m sure he and I have more in common.”

Marc tried to calm the two ladies. But couldn’t. Miriam was tipsy. She clearly couldn’t handle her alcohol. Despite her shots, Alana was stone-cold sober. Marc grabbed Miriam. She started screaming. She threw her drink at Alana. The beer spilled all over Alana’s new skirt. The bottle cracked onto the floor. Pieces of glass hit Alana’s legs. Marc was petrified. He knew he had to get Miriam out of the club. She stood no chance. Another girl lost. Or not.

Of course, Simple Minds closed their show with “Don’t you forget about me”.

Pomegranate — 20 — Jen breaks out of the web, Alana…..

Jen was flying happily. She spent a lovely afternoon on a date at the Guggenheim and a stroll along the Jackie Kennedy Onassis Central Park Reservoir with brownies from the By the Way Bakery. She and Jake enjoyed the art and their walk. They ended their date with a nice embrace and meaningful kiss. They agreed to meet for dinner next Thursday.

She texted her sister to let her know things went well and were on her way to her apt. And asked her if she wanted to meet for pizza. She felt so relieved that she met a new guy and he seemed to like her. Maybe she’d rid herself of Marc. Let him stay with his goth girl and they can beat each other. They enjoy it.

Meanwhile, Alana was running through Central Park. She saw families and couples picnicking. She knew she’d never be in that situation. But she was coming to terms with it all.

She stopped by the boathouse for a beer. She sat outside by the lake and sipped her Sierra Nevada. She heard lots of conversations. People were talking to each other. Louder people were screaming into their phones. Typical NYC day.

Alana tossed her beer bottle in the trash and started walking toward Strawberry Fields. As she jogged over she tripped over some garbage. She heard some kids laughing at her. But she let it go. No need to beat up little kids.

She heard the usual folks singing Come Together and Hey Jude. At this point, she was thinking of letting it be. The tourists were taking their pictures on the Imagine mosaic. She heard laughter and tears. She sat on a bench and hummed Penny Lane. Alana was one of the lonely people.

She stared into space. A ball bounced up and hit her in the knee. A little kid ran over to it. He apologized and took it.

She headed to the train. One of the loons was hanging by the station. He was panhandling and made inappropriate remarks to her. She kept walking. The guy had a female accomplice. She started yelling too. Alana moved on. She always thought it was best to walk away.

She walked toward the Gap. She heard their taunts. She thought they were getting softer. But they weren’t. As she opened the door to the Gap she felt a blade running down her the back of her coat. She moved her elbow back and hit the person wielding the knife. It fell out of her hands. She spun around quickly. It was the woman who was taunting her.

Alana wanted to just go into the Gap. But the woman sprung up with the fallen blade. Alana figured she was probably a mentally ill woman who was discharged from a psych ward as the insurance ran out. Marc dated those types.

She was perplexed. She could let it go. Or strike. The woman tried to stab her. At this point, Alana’s eyes bulged. Her fists clenched. She opened them and figs flew out of her hands. They smacked the aggressor in her shoulders. Some landed in her ears and up her already stuffed nose. The woman screamed. Alana kicked her down. She went into the Gap and bought a skirt.

Pomegranate — 19- Marc heads to Jersey

Marc headed out to Jersey. Been a while since he’s been there. He loved the shore. He and his boys used to go stroll Seaside’s boardwalk and dined on its finest grease. Lately, he spends a lot of time on Coney Island’s Cyclone. However, he needed to see some Jersey girls. He dated a few.

He got off the Garden State Parkway, took his beach blanket, and laid out at Seaside. He was being good today and brought a sandwich from Seasons in Kew Garden Hills. His Talmudic studies were strengthening him. Eventually, he got bored and tossed the chair into his car and went to one of the arcades, played some games, and wound up sipping a Sierra Nevada at one of the bars that was blasting a mix of the Boss, Bon Jovi, U2 and the Stones.

Everything was going just fine. He was dancing with some cutie clad in jean shorts, a t-shirt, and white Keds. Some guy came up to him and told him to leave his girl alone. He ignored the guy and kept dancing. He wasn’t a good dancer. But he tried.

The girl, Michelle started kissing Marc. Of course, Marc reciprocated. “Instant Club Hit” was blaring over the speakers. The bar was getting sloppy. The two left and were strolling hand in hand down the boardwalk. Marc was feeling great. Wasn’t sure if this meant anything. But it was a break from Alana and Jen.

All of a sudden Marc was grabbed from behind and tossed to the floor. His newfound love, Michelle was punched in the face. This was courtesy of the guy who yelled at Marc before. A few of his friends were there. They were laughing and taunting Marc and Michelle.

One of them took out a switchblade. Marc was silently laughing. Michelle was crying. Marc got up. The guy with the knife ran toward him. Marc flexed his muscles. The guy was charging full speed ahead.

As the guy tried stab Marc, honey was oozing out of Marc’s eyes at a high speed. It hit the knife wielder’s hands pretty hard. Marc kicked him in the jaw. The guy was down for the count. The guy’s buds backed off. They did not back off for too long. The guy who started this mess never met Michelle. She told Marc that while they were dancing. They tried to grab Michelle.

Marc jumped in and launched barley. It temporarily blinded them. He kicked them to the ground. He realized he needs to leave them be. He did enough damage. He figured he needed to high tail it back to the city.

The drunken crowd who was watching and probably recording this melee was walking away. Marc felt bad for Michelle. He saw her crying by herself on a bench. She was a little bloody and bruised. He didn’t know what to do. She must have witnessed his antics.

Pomengranate – 18

Marc was sitting on his chair with his Talmud. He took a break from seeing his “girlfriends”. He kept working, going to the gym, watching baseball, and praying. Years ago, an older rabbi, who happens to be kohanim told him to spend more time learning. He told him stories about how it helped other folks.

He decided to give it a shot. He read quite a bit about the blessings, Shabbos, and fruits of the Holy Land. He found himself getting stronger. He still questioned things. But he read about his weapons — barley, honey and pomegranates, and their importance. He found himself eating these items more often.

He hadn’t had to fight anyone in a few weeks. But he trained and found when he shot out his weapons (he practiced in his apartment) they were hitting their targets with more finesse. He did find strength in the spirituality of things. That’s why as a scout he loved the Order of the Arrow’s rituals so much.

He put his Talmud down and hopped into his car. On his ride up to his old college campus, he planned his next trip to Jerusalem.

He drove down Main Street and saw the same bars he went to as a college kid. He saw some new ones in the place of the old haunts. And of course, “Gourmet Pizza” was still there. “Wings and Things” was gone.

He exited his vehicle and walked across campus. He was in awe of the new buildings, both residence halls, and academic centers. He went to the bridges that sat above the famous “gunk”. Thoughts drifted back into his head when he was a pledge and had to say a poem and bow before crossing each bridge.

He remembered when some of his friends puked their guts up into the gunk, watching some of the tougher frats and sororities make their pledges jump in. And some special moments he had with his girlfriend on one of the bridges. Those were the days. He spent a few hours walking across campus.

Meanwhile, Jen was sitting at her piano. She hadn’t played in a long time. But decided she would practice and maybe play one night in a bar. Alana was strolling Soho. Siouxsie and the Banshees were playing on her phone. She had flashbacks to when she dressed like Siouxsie Sioux. She went to a yoga spa. She’d been going there for a few days. She found it unwinding. And she felt her powers growing as she was deep in her posture.

She had her night with Tzipora deeply embedded in her mind. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to try again. She considered herself very fortunate that she had the chance. She wondered if she should meet some new guy, settle down and have a kid. Her clock is ticking. So is Jen’s.

Pomengranate — 17- Alana’s love scene

It was around 3:00 a.m., Marc was twisting and turning. He was not much of a sleeper. R.E.M. was playing in his bedroom. He grabbed his iPhone couldn’t decide who to text.

“Hey, Alana, how are you?”

Alana and Tzipora were cuddling in Tzipora’s bed in her Soho loft. Alana had never slept with a woman. But she was enjoying the moment. As they were whispering in each other’s ears, Alana’s phone blasted, “Love will Tear us Apart.”

“I bet ‘ya that’s Marc, isn’t Alana”?

Alana smiled and breathed deeply. Tzipora knew the answer. She held Alana tighter.

“So how fast are you going to jump out of my bed and run to the boy?”

Alana laughed. She kissed Tzipora.

“Well, you’ve known me all my life. So you know I am going to see him again. We will likely fight. Did you see me in the bar when that guy started harassing Stacey?”

“Yeah. What are you?”

“I don’t know. But you must keep it a secret.”

“I promise I will. And you must keep our current interlude quiet. I know this is virgin territory for you. But I hope we can try again. It might help you. “

“Perhaps.”

They looked at each other and dozed off. They woke a few hours later, showered together, and went to the bagel store. They gave each other the typical girlfriend goodbye kiss and walked off.

Alana texted Marc, “Hey, just finished breakfast. What are you up to?”

Jen was down the block.

Pomengranate – 16

Alana was at work. She was feeling peaceful. Some of her volunteer groups annoyed her. But that’s life. The world hasn’t rotated off its axis. After work was girl’s night. She and a few of her girlfriends were meeting in an Alphabet City bar for drinks and to hear music.

She moseyed through her day and left for the bar. Stacey, Ellen and Tzipora were at the bar when she arrived. Girlie cocktails and beer were flowing. Eighties tunes were cranking. Eventually, a band would take the stage.

The ladies ordered some veggie burgers. None of them needed to worry about their figures. They were all in great shape. They’ve been friends since elementary school.

Their conversations ranged from the market, music, work and guys. And girls, as Tzipora, is bi. The night was a typical NYC bar night. Some guys started flirting with the ladies. The ladies smiled and sipped their beverages. A few ladies started flirting with them, too. The ladies were hot. They loved getting hit on by everyone.

A drunken jock started hitting on them. Weird. Not that he was hitting on them but this was far from the bar that these types hung. The place was much more artsy and alternative. TVs were not playing sports, rather music videos and dance. Alana took it all in stride. She was feeling happy.

The guy went after Stacey, the quieter girl of the crew. She was pleased. She has a hard time meeting guys. But she wasn’t sure if this how she wants to meet her beshert. The guy put his hands on her shoulders and tried to kiss her. She got scared. Alana was a little tipsy at the time. The other ladies were engaged in a deep conversation about today’s political environment. Funny enough they were in a very artsy liberal bar and are fairly conservative. They didn’t care about the social issues. But are very business conservative and nationalistic.

Stacey asked the guy to walk away. He started screaming at her. The bar was quite loud. The bartender and security guard heard and saw nothing. The guy tried to touch her again.

As soon as his hands tried to grab her, Alana slammed down her cocktail glass on the bar. Her whole body tensed. Her peace ended. She walked right up to the guy.

“Leave my girl alone,” she belted out.

“What are you gonna do about it?” he screamed as he shoved his way toward Alana and flexed his muscles. Big mistake. As he was posing Alana shot a stream of pomegranate wine out of her eyes. She hit him the eyes and all over his football jersey. He fell down. But got up. He wiped his eyes out and tried to punch Alana. She laughed. As he tried to put his fist in her face, a vine of figs came out of her mouth. They wrapped around his neck. He began to choke. He fell down.

Alana looked at her friends and decided it was time for her to go. As she raced to the door, Tzipora trailed her. They smiled at each other, embraced and their lips locked.