C hana Leeba shook her head. Yudi was such a youngest he would never get it.
“I mean why would he care about his father when he is too busy worrying about his points and trip to California?” she thundered in the general direction of Yerachmiel who was sitting with his yarmulke tipped forward almost covering his eyes and half dozing in the easy chair. This was the off-season when lazy mornings were spent teaching in a local day camp and he didn’t have to prepare a curriculum or write report cards. He wasn’t looking for any drama. His wife apparently was.
“I mean Yerachmiel even when we were young ” she said saying the word “young” as if it was a medical condition something to apologize for “we vacationed like a kollel couple. We once went to Vermont — remember that little motel near Chabad? With the rabbits in the back? And wait remember that house in Tannersville Tante Gittel’s when we left the food in Lakewood and had to eat matzos from the pantry all Shabbos?”
Yerachmiel wasn’t up for nostalgia.
“The young people now are so different. They all need these crazy trips to who knows where as if it’s coming to them.”
