“I haven’t danced since 1938, why should today be different?”
The men in the shul called him Laibele Lodzer.
We called him Mr. Shah Shtil.
The year was 1976 and the day was Shemini Atzeres. For us kids, our only care was if the kiddush tomorrow would include cholent or just kugel.
Mr. Shah Shtil was not on our minds.
His moniker was well earned. If anyone near him davened slightly above a whisper, he would cry loudly, “Shah, shtil!”
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