What zechus is bringing Barry F. to the chuppah after many years of searching?
Thirteen-year-old Barry F. ran down the three flights of his apartment house at 835 Walton Avenue in the South Bronx. As he lived in the building next door to the shul, he was soon at Congregation Hope of Israel, at 843 Walton Avenue.
Barry fidgeted in his seat as leining began. Finally, the rabbi got up to speak — the signal Barry was waiting for. It was time for him to meet up with his cohorts, Lenny B., Allan R., and Harvey S., downstairs in the vestibule outside the social hall.
A metal bottle cap was procured to be used as a makeshift soccer ball, and the fun began. With the two doors of the vestibule outside the social hall parallel to each other, they formed a pair of perfectly aligned goals.
When Ethel Memerlstein, president of the sisterhood, arrived to survey the proper placement of the pound and marble cakes, the boys knew Anim Zemiros was fast approaching. They decided whose turn it was to sing Anim Zemiros, and the “lucky” boy bolted upstairs. Kiddush soon followed, and after Barry’s mother completed her weekly chat with her mah-jongg sorority sisters, it was time to go home.
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