Maybe her parents really did just want something a bit different? Could this Tali have grown up in a family that stepped off the assembly line at some point and allowed a bit of individuality to seep in?
T
he shadchan says she’s an amazing girl, from a wonderful family. Mommy says she’s perfect for me. Which probably means I’ll hate her.
But I do what I gotta do. I shave, put on one of my three dating suits, grab a tie, pick up the rental, and head to Brooklyn.
The only thing that gives me hope is that her name is Tali. That can mean one of three things: She has Israeli roots; her family had been a shade more modern and then they flipped; or her parents were the more free-spirited type and weren’t interested in the classic Bais Yaakov names.
I consider the possibilities as I navigate the freeway. Mommy has had the nastiest flu for the past few weeks, so she roped Tatty into checking Tali out. But Tatty’s research hasn’t unearthed any “past” — so the middle option is unlikely. And if her paternal grandparents knew Babby back in Hungary, and her maternal grandparents were from the famous Schreiber family from Romania, when would anyone have had a chance to be infected with sabra sentiments?
Create a free account to keep reading.
