by Tziri Frank

“Let’s Be Friends…”

*OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER – Names found within this article have been changed to protect the innocent, and their friendships!

Friends are the spice of life, the sunshine on a rainy day, and the reason for the success of Hallmark’s billion-dollar greeting card empire. Friends are what make fun times more enjoyable, and give rhyme and reason to long and gossipy telephone conversations. And friends can be an endless source of humor, like my one-of-a- kind, original and quirky, friendly friend, Devorah. *

Devorah takes friendship to a whole new level. Several levels, in fact, as anyone who has opened her refrigerator can attest to. As a newlywed, Devorah often found her husband, Chaim*, staring in confusion into their modern day icebox.

“Are you hungry, should I try to make you something,” asked Devorah the first time she came across this scene. “Perhaps this time I won’t burn the toast.”

“No, no, please don’t cook anything,” answered Chaim hurriedly. “As a matter of fact, let’s go get some pizza!”

The next day found Chaim staring once more into the refrigerator, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. Once more Devorah asked if he wanted something to eat, and once more Chaim insisted that he was not hungry. With bowed shoulders, he quickly left the kitchen.

And so life went on. More often than not, when Devorah entered the kitchen, she would find her, usually charming, fun-loving, and very slender husband staring in perplexity into an open refrigerator.

Finally, one day, she had enough.

“We are not going to leave this kitchen till you explain to me why you spend so much time staring into a refrigerator!” declared Devorah. “What are you looking for?”

“I want you to know that I think you are a wonderful wife,” began Chaim.

“There’s a but,” interrupted Devorah. “I can sense that there is a but included here…”

“Well, not really a ‘but’,” stammered Chaim nervously, “it’s just that in my house, my mother always lined up the milk next to the orange juice, next to the pickle jar, next to the cod liver oil. There was a place for everything and everything in its place. That way when I wanted something to eat, or drink, I knew exactly where to find it.”

The look of dismay on his wife’s face stopped him short.

“Oh no,” gasped Devorah in horror. “But that’s so unfriendly! How would you like to be stuck in the same place next to the same people all the time? Groceries cannot always be put in the same spot, because that would be so boring. I mean one day the milk might enjoy talking to the orange juice and the ketchup, but the next day he might have a lot to say to the American cheese and last night’s leftover lasagna. I believe that we should have a friendly fridge!”

For a moment her husband just looked at her in bemused wonder. And then he grinned as he began to understand the method to his wife’s refrigerator madness. To this day, Chaim never knows where he will find the food product that he wants when he opens the ice chest, but he takes pride in having the friendliest fridge in town.

Whether we are in the “box”, or outside the box walking to the beat of our own drummer, it is a fact of life that we all need friends. Young or old, male or female, left wing or right faction, we all spend a large percentage of our lives in search of sociable companionship. To some, making new friends (acquaintances) is a daunting task, but to other individuals, friendship comes easily, like with my son, Yossi. It has long since amazed me how a child who can neither see nor speak, and has no form of communication, can so easily make so many friends (cronies).

I learned this lesson in a friendly (supportive) way one delightful Sunday afternoon in Spring, when I decided to spend some quality time with Yossi. Since it was a beautiful day outside, I decided to take Yossi and his bright blue wheelchair for a walk. As we sauntered down 56thSt. I tried to ignore the friendly (inquisitive) glances of the passersby, at what I guess was an unusual sight, and focused instead on some of the unique highlights of Boro Park.

“That’s the Shomrim mini moped,” I said as we passed the three wheeled vehicle perched precariously on the curb at 14th Ave. “That odd looking means of transportation is for the brave volunteers that are always ready to help any Jewish friend (ally) in need.”

All of a sudden, a loud clamoring from across the street diverted my attention.

“Yoohoo!” called a motley crew of what appeared to be local high school girls, “It’s Yossi! Yossi……………. Yossi!”

And before I could say “Shomrim”, squealing teenagers surrounded me on all sides. Bravely, I tried to protect my son from the dangerous cacophony of squeals, but he was grinning broadly at all the attention.

“Hi, Yossi,” chorused the teenagers. “How’s our special friend (cohort)?”

“I guess you know these girls,” I observed dryly.

“Oh yes! We visit Yossi every Tuesday afternoon after school,” said the squeakiest squealer of them all. “He’s one of us; he’s our friend (pal)!”

It took me another half hour to deduce that Yossi was an honorary member of this rather loud group of friends (associates). Though they obviously had very little in common, the warm and sociable way they interacted with my severely mentally and physically handicapped child revealed the depths of true friendship (companionship).

Eventually we bid the giggling gaggle of girls adieu and continued meandering down the block. I hadn’t gone very far, when I stopped to admire a mother leading a brood of five daughters down the street. Every last one of the young ladies was matching, from their frilly pink hair ornaments, to the crisply ironed pleats in their polished cotton skirts, down to the color of the ruffles on their socks. I was mentally computing the cost of accomplishing such a fashion statement when my view was blocked by a determined woman wearing a black turban and “shpitzel” (synthetic bangs protruding from a head covering).

“A guten tag, Yossi,” trilled the ultra Chassidic woman. “Vos macht ihr?”

“Um…” I interrupted, “do I know you?”

At this the woman looked me up and down, and then down and up. Then she cleared her throat and gave me a warm smile.

“I am a friend (helper) of Yossi.” she said in her best broken English. “I chap a shmooz with him yeder voch as I visit Mishkon.” And with a loving pat on his head, she continued on her way.

“You sure do have a variety of friends (buddies), Yossi,” I commented as we tried to cross the street.

A sudden loud honking brought us up short.

“Yossi!” boomed a very loud voice.

And without further ado, a large utility van pulled up right on the sidewalk and out popped a portly gentleman. He put out his hand to pat Yossi on his head. With a toothy laugh, Yossi reached up to tightly grasp the stout fingers.

“How’s my friend (comrade)?” boomed the man bending close to tickle Yossi on the nose. “I haven’t seen you in almost three days. I’ve missed you.”

“Uh, excuse me for interrupting,” I interrupted, “but, who are you?”

At this, the generously proportioned chap straightened up. With one hand tightly clutching Yossi’s shoulder, he responded with a question of his own, “Are you also a friend (playmate) of Yossi?”

“Of a sort,” I murmured mysteriously, afraid to offer too much information to a perfect stranger.

“I am too!” he boomed. “Aren’t I, Yossi?”

Yossi’s wide smile and delighted laugh was a clear indication that this was indeed so. I was trying to think of a polite way to pry for more details on how and when Yossi and this guy had formed their close bond, but once more, I was interrupted.

“Hey, it’s Yossi,” called a male voice.

“Long time no see, ‘buddy’ (friend),” chimed in a second masculine tone.

And suddenly two more guys, wearing YU sweatshirts, joined our group. Once more, Yossi burst into delighted laughter at the sounds of these affable newcomers. Eventually, I deduced from the conversation that these two guys voluntarily came every Shabbos afternoon to entertain the residents at Mishkon with Parsha and song. They clearly considered Yossi to be a good friend (colleague).

I never did get much of a walk done, and I never did see many of the unique attractions of Boro Park. Because, every few steps that I took brought me face to face with friends (chums) of Yossi. They came in all sizes and shape, ranged in all levels on the Yiddishkeit spectrum, and had different life experiences. But, they all shared one thing. They had the ability to see past Yossi’s physical exterior and bond with the pure innocence they discovered within. None would ever have gotten to know Yossi, if not for the fact of his special needs. And they all were proud to call Yossi a friend (playmate).

According to Microsoft Word, Version 2005, friends can be defined as pals, buddies, companions, acquaintances, or comrades. The Thesaurus offers the synonyms ally, associate, colleague, supporter, helper, cohort, playmate, chum, and crony as well. I say the actual word is irrelevant. It is the mutual feeling of comfort and well being, that being around a specific individual offers, that defines the powerful sentiment known as friendship.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go rearrange my fridge.

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Tziri Frank is a proud mother of five beautiful children. She uses her experience with her own special child to inspire others in a thought provoking and often entertaining way.