The Mohel

Julia and Rosa racing home after school with the news!

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” shouted both Julia for whom that was unusual and Rosa for whom that was standard, as they ran through the front door of their nest, bypassing George’s open wings and throwing their school bags in the direction of the far wall closest to the kitchen, where Sybil stood to avoid any collateral damage from Rosa flying into her father’s arms. But on that day, it was different.

Both Julia and Rosa came in together, though they finished school at different times, thus completely changing the order of business. George felt dejected. He lowered his wings and turning to follow his daughters’ progress into the nest. He wasn’t yet caught up in their exuberance. “Guess what?” asked Rosa who was the least out of breath and began the conversation with her trademark question.

“What?” asked Sybil, pleased she was the first to answer the question, which was new for her.

“We got two new teachers in school today.”
“You did?” replied George trying to wrestle back control of the conversation and thereby regain his exalted position of the official greeter of the Blau family.

“Yes,” continued Julia now feeling she had regained her breath, “and they are married.”
“To each other?” asked Sybil.

“Yes!” replied the two girls in unison.

“Oh, how wonderful,” replied George believing he was no longer the sole recipient of Rosa’s initial greeting and that his place was finally being challenged by his wife.

“Yes, it is and they’re Jewish!” Julia walked slowly towards the kitchen. Sybil made way for her to pass but be close enough for a peck on the cheek which she received, pleased she was the first parent to receive a greeting. Julia however, wanted to make sure the kitchen was just as she had left it and no changes had been made while she was at school. Everything was just as she had left it. Sybil knew better, especially if she expected to eat dinner later.

Julia turned around and stood by her mother, which pleased Sybil to no end. Rosa however was fully caught up in her drama and stood against the far wall closest to her bedroom, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by her father. “And they’re going to have a baby!” continued Julia, “isn’t that wonderful?”

“Yes wonderful,” replied George putting on his East European Jewish accent which meant he had transitioned seamlessly from successful businessman to Rabbi of the North Topsail Jewish Sandpiper Community. Something he had perfected over the years. That didn’t go unnoticed by the other three household members. Timmy who could hear the gist of the conversation as he was busy finishing up his maths homework felt he didn’t need to contribute, because neither of those teachers would interact with him in school.

“Golda Lox and Kirk Thistle,” said Rosa very proud that she was able to pronounce those names without a problem. She had practiced all the way home. Julia who had waited for Rosa to finish class and accompany her, had made her practice as they walked slowly along the sand dunes watching the fishermen catch seaweed.

“Kirk Thistle?” repeated George, “I don’t think that’s a Jewish name.”
“Yes it is dad,” replied Rosa proud to contribute the next sentence to the conversation. “Yes, Kirk Douglas was Jewish.”

“Ah,” replied George raising his right wing as he was about to give his family a little advice or a lesson, he wasn’t sure which just then. “That wasn’t Kirk Douglas’ real name. That was his stage name. His real name was something else.”
Rosa didn’t like that, especially since she had mastered pronouncing their names. “Well, this Kirk is Jewish. He doesn’t need a stage name he uses his real name.”

George should’ve known better. After all the years of interaction he had with his youngest daughter, he should’ve known better than open that can of worms. Sybil was delighted. Yet again she had said nothing and was the beneficiary of her dear husband’s mistakes. “That’s ok,” she replied forcing a smile. “I’d like to meet the latest members of our tiny Jewish community. When is the baby due.”

“Oh, I do not know, Mummy,” replied Rosa, “but it should be soon.”
“Is it going to be a boy or girl?” George forced his way back into the conversation, after all there was a reason.

“I do not know,” continued Rosa, “but it does not matter as long as it’s healthy. Right Daddy?”

“Yes yes, yes, of course that’s the most important thing.”
Timmy couldn’t hold back. “Daddy wants to know because if it’s a boy, then he has to do his Mohel role and do the bris.” There was dead silence in the nest. Timmy’s pronouncement sent shivers down everyone’s spines.

It was left to Rosa to pick up the conservation from where Timmy left it. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” began Rosa in her patented manner, “I don’t think you should do that if it’s a boy.” “Why not?” asked George without skipping a beat.

“Well Daddy,” added Julia, “when was the last time you did that? Timmy?”
“No,” replied a sombre George. “In those days there was a population boom in Northern New Jersey caused by Hurricane Andrew and we had a mohel, but alas he was swept out to sea by a giant wave. Since then we’ve had to import one from Brooklyn.”

It was the last word that made Sybil alert once more. Her mind was suddenly filled with the image of the last visitor from Brooklyn, the over muscled gym loving Vulture with the big beak. Could it be possible that he would be visiting again? The look on her face alerted George. “I don’t think we need to do that again,” George added quickly. Sybil’s face dropped. George was delighted. “I think I can perform the ceremony.” Dead silence.

Timmy stopped his homework and walked into the living room and stood next to Julia and his mother. Rosa edged away from George as well and stood next to her brother. George was left by himself standing near the front door, still hoping Rosa would pick up the usual greeting from where she left off. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she began in all seriousness. “Please listen carefully, this is very important. I do not know much about a bris, but I know what happens if you get it wrong.” She took a deep breath. “And if you do the cutting the way you cut my last birthday cake, then the poor little boy will not recover.”

“There’s a big difference between cutting a slice from a large chocolate cake Rosa and doing a bris.”

“But they both involve a knife,” answered Rosa still sounding sombre.

“But it’s very different.” George was insulted.

The image of the gym loving Vulture with the big beak from Brooklyn came back into acute focus in Sybil’s mind, but she dared not voice her opinion. “Isn’t it time for dinner?” she asked looking as calmly as possible at her eldest daughter.

“No mummy. But I need to begin to cook.”

“What are we having?” asked the matron of the nest.

“Chicken and dumplings!”

Rosa’s wings fell by her sides. “Too many birds,” she replied grabbing Timmy’s wing and walking with him into his room.