Hero… Unsung 

I am not a morning person in the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times, but when from behind me I heard soft voices speaking in an old European accent, I had to investigate. Turning to see who was sharing the shuttlebus with me, I was greeted by the smiles of an older couple; crisp white clothing, wrinkled skin, at ease with each other, and nonchalant about my presence. I smiled back and turned away, wanting nothing more than to sit and travel in solitude. But I am Lubavitch, and as such, I have an eternal obligation. The Lubavitcher inside me started making noises and the familiar, inner conflict began: Reach out… no, you’re tired… reach out… no, you’re allowed downtime… reach out, what does it take already? Okay, fine!

I turned back to the couple and began to converse.

“Hey there, good morning. Where are you going?” I asked, attempting to expedite my duty and return to my much-desired reclusion.

Well, it turned out that they, too, were traveling to Toronto, that they live there, as I do, and that they were in South Carolina to visit their son. So much for not wanting to get involved.