This was the guy who told people when they had dandruff on their collar; subtlety wasn’t his strong point
S
huey Portman was headed back to Lakewood, his first time back since the zeman started. It wasn’t Shabbos yet, but he needed the break. He had called Henny around eleven o’clock in the morning, making the decision even before he’d worked out the details.
“Hen, hope to see you guys tonight,” he’d said, delivering this information crisply, like a CEO issuing instructions to his scheduling team. Henny had caught the assertiveness too. “Oh, Shuey,” was all she managed, saying it three more times, “Oh, Shuey.”
The trip was long, close to three hours, but it was enjoyable.
It felt good to call friends he used to schmooze with every single night after Maariv and reconnect.
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