It was as the saying goes the mother of all blizzards (at least until 2014). Back in 1978 the East Coast was being pummeled with snow the likes of which hadn’t been seen in years. Boston my hometown was hit especially hard and was buried in over two feet of the white stuff. The drifts reached the second-floor window of our house! I was far away from it all safely learning in yeshivah hundreds of miles away with nary a flake in sight.
A few days after the storm which paralyzed an entire metropolitan area and closed traffic to everything but emergency vehicles I received a surprise letter in the mail (the handwritten variety not the “e” version that has sadly replaced its more permanent and keepsake-style counterpart). It was from the rav of our shul Congregation Chai Odom who was also my uncle the unforgettable Rav Shlomo Margolis ztz”l. Although we rarely corresponded by mail he apparently felt compelled to share his pride over how his kehillah had fared during this trying time.
In his letter the rav related how he trekked to shul for Minchah as the city was experiencing some of the worst snowfall and accompanying winds. About two-thirds of the way there on Strathmore Road he noticed the figure of a man literally stuck in the snow. As he approached he recognized that this snow-bound figure was none other than Mr. Irving Smolar z”l a stalwart elder mispallel who was an anchor of the minyan despite suffering from Parkinson’s or some other related dreadful condition. After yanking him out of the snowbank and dragging him to shul where a minyan had already gathered for davening the rav asked Mr. Smolar how he could even consider venturing outside in such conditions. The indignant response was “What do you mean we have to be in shul for Minchah!”
The letter in my hand was a testament to the devotion and commitment of Chai Odom’s members in general and to the incredible devotion of this particular “shul Yid” to the shul and to tefillah b’tzibbur. The rav proudly related how not even one minyan was missed during the entire week of meteorological mayhem which was especially remarkable in light of the fact that the average age of the winter Minchah attendees was probably close to 80. Each mispallel had his own way of earning extreme sechar halichah — Zaidy Bramson for instance wrapped his legs in garbage bags to brave the drifts.
