Auditing My Tears

Upon my mother’s insistence, I went to see The Notebook last night. She had seen it a while ago with her friends and they all thought it was one of the most beautiful movies they had ever scene. (They rated it a 5-tissue event.) The other two women that accompanied her have since gone back to see it, this time dragging their husbands along. (As of yet, my father has still been spared). When Newsweek referred to it as "this summer’s sleeper” two weeks ago, I finally acquiesced.

Scanning through the crowd, I noticed there was not one Y-chromosome in the audience. This can’t be a good sign, I thought. Well, as far as chic flicks go, this is certainly one of the better ones. But I didn’t cry. Not a tear. My mom called me as I was walking out of the theater. “Did you love it?” she asked. My tepid response blew her away. (It should be noted that my classmates lend no credence to my reviews of movies ever since I mentioned to them that I fell asleep during Lord of the Rings….)

But I did shed a few tears earlier in the day when I certainly wasn’t planning on doing so.

This past Shabbos was Eli Klein’s aufruf. His father has been my doctor since the day I was born. They have lived around the corner from me (across the street from my dentist :-) my entire life. My family, like countless others, has come to depend on him as both a doctor and a friend. He came over immediately one Sukkus when I wasn’t feeling well. And it was only a matter of moments from the time I found out my grandfather had passed away suddenly until Dr. Klein (with my dentist in tow) was at my house, helping my father make arrangements. With the birth of my sister’s twins 3 months prematurely, we have come to rely on him even more, for both his expertise and his reassurance.

In shul Shabbos morning, Dr. Klein approached the door of the women’s section and motioned for me to come outside. A quick glance around confirmed what I had suspected: his wife wasn’t there yet. I ran outside and he handed me a basket full of candy bags. “Can you take care of this for me?” he asked. It was the least I could do.

With the layning and other fanfare over, R’ Gottlieb got up to speak. He mentioned that when the Kleins first moved to Baltimore, a more established couple took them under their wings and really helped them settle into town By the time Eli’s bar mitzvah rolled around, the husband of this couple was too sick to attend and asked that it be recorded so he would be able to listen to it. That couple was the kallah’s grandparents. A little more than ten years later, Eli is marrying this man’s granddaughter. Sometimes, he said, Hashem pays back kindness in this world as well.

R’ Gottlieb then proceeded to describe the Kleins community involvement. Since he is a pediatrician and she is a child psychologist, both have been very involved in all the local day schools. They have been arch supporters of P’tach and other organizations. My eyes were a bit watery at this point, but I still maintained my composure. But not for long. He reminded everyone that the Klein’s will be making aliyah in a couple of weeks. The Kleins are an integral part of my community—and those are mighty big shoes to fill. And then came the clincher: R’ Gottlieb articulated exactly what I felt. “If not for the fact that they are leaving for Eretz Yisrael, I don’t think I would be able to cope with the loss.” Then I could hold back the tears no longer.

On a lighter note, it looks like I’m going to have to get a new doctor, one who probably doesn’t give out stickers and lollipops :-(