G iven the slow pace of this time of year I decided to write about something safe and innocuous you know nothing that will make anyone get up out of their deck chair or off the bungalow porch. Bland stuff I don’t know like say weather patterns or women in chareidi society.
Lol. Kidding.
Last month we took a stab at creating our own most-influential list the power brokers of the frum community and highlighted the beloved younger brother of the chassan calling out under the chuppah. I want to add another to the list a regular feature of any bein hazmanim trip a familiar figure in the picnic area near Six Flags and the parking lot at Niagara Falls.
The Minchah-minyan arranger.
I don’t know what he does all year. He might be a rebbi or accountant or maybe he imports sweatpants from China but this is when he shines. From early afternoon he’s got that look in his eyes a sense of purpose invested in his every step. “Minchah? Minchah? Minchah?” It’s his one-word mantra as he locks eyes with fellow park-goers and zoo visitors. He confidently identifies the guy in Yankees cap sunglasses and jeans as “unzere” and switches to Yiddish when he makes his pitch to chassidim.
And when the setting sun shines its light on the little assemblage he is as exuberant as a junior salesman who just closed a million-dollar deal.
