It was cute. It was fun. But looking back, it was the most academically and spiritually positive experience I had throughout all my yeshivah years.
Humility aside, I’m good at Dr. Seuss style poetry. Like, really good.
I’m probably the only one who has a full peirush written up on Yertle the Turtle, as well as The Sneetches. (It’s called Seuss V’rochvo — you think ArtScroll would publish it?) Throughout my yeshivah years, for the most part, this hidden talent was relegated to bein hasdorim pastimes, and the occasional sheva brachos grammen.
That changed drastically when I was paired up to learn b’chavrusa with Meir. (Last name intentionally omitted. He’s a prestigious maggid shiur today, and I don’t want to put his job in jeopardy.) It happened one day that I asked something to the effect of “What’s the svara?”
My new chavrusa’s response was, “It’s meforash in the Gemara.”
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