One Child, One Shabbos Table

One child at one Shabbos table, week after week.  An ideal existence — or maybe not.

I am one chance to get it right. One hope and dream. One mouth to feed. One tuition to pay.

One child to love.

There are benefits to growing up as an only child. I had my own room, a quiet house, new clothes, and undivided attention from my parents. If I had a request or a need, it didn’t compete with anyone else’s wants or needs. Life revolved around our small family unit, and perhaps, around me. I’ll never forget when Rabbi Menachem Nissel, my seminary rabbi, visited my home in Atlanta and called it “a shrine to Alex.” With pictures of just one child gracing the walls, I guess it sort of was.

Shabbos afternoon lunches epitomized my childhood experience as the only kid around the Shabbos table. Naturally, my parents invited their friends, and their Shabbos day meals were famous for ending at 5 p.m. There may or may not have been other kids at the table, but my childhood Shabbos memories are filled with me sitting at a table of adults talking, laughing, and debating.

In my pre-teen years, I would sit and listen. Soak up the discourse. Watch adults engage and interact as they would talk about issues from Judaism to current events, history to culture. A quiet observer, I’d silently formulate my own opinions about the issues and concepts that animated them.