My mother quickly gathered us together for lighting and insisted I play a Maoz Tzur solo on my kazoo
IT was Thursday, December 7, 1972, the seventh day of Chanukah. That night would be Zos Chanukah, and seeing all eight candles lit at once was greatly anticipated and awaited.
I was off from yeshivah that day, and my best friend, Marvin Rubin, and I biked from home in Canarsie to Kings Plaza. The indoor mall, opened in 1970, was just two and a half miles from my house, and we biked the route in under 15 minutes. When we arrived at the mall, we engaged in our favorite Chanukah pastime of “Counting the Menorahs.”
The contest was simple, whichever boy spotted the most menorahs in the over 120 stores was bought a soda by the other one.
We stopped at Waldenbooks to seek out any Jewish-themed books.
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