Staying or Going Back?

If you’re a bochur in the 22-24 age bracket, have a healthy (especially wealthy) and wise head on your shoulders, there is a question everyone will ask you when you go home for Bein Hazmanim. This is inevitable. There is no avoiding it. There is non escape. It is your fate.

The question induces fear into the hearts of some, thrill into the hearts of others, and only casual interest in a select few.  The question is no doubt one you’ve asked yourself a few times. It is:

“So, are you staying, or going back? And if you’re staying, are you on the market?”

The market. The parsha. Nogeah. All these are euphemisms designed to avoid a sensitive and highly personal matter that people feel they have an automatic right to pry into because they know of a potential shidduch. That this “shidduch” has no shaychus whatsoever to you, is 2 feet shorter, has an IQ shorter than that, and comes from a totally different background than you has nothing to do with the issue. They know of a homo sapien of the other gender also on the market, so boom! Let’s make a match. If the above scene has evoked mental imagery of an ancient shtetl and Zero Mostel-like characters, you aren’t too far off. Just fast-forward the scene two hundred years and change the location to the US. Otherwise, everything is exactly the same. Except the Yeshiva Guys. We’re ten times cooler these daysJ.

For the sophisticated yeshiva guy who wishes to answer the invasive, prying yentele performing the inquiry, there are a number of potential responses here. Listed below are some of them for your use. Please note that these “zugs” are copyrighted, and available for your use only under license. Kidding.

Alef)

Yente who doesn’t know you from cholent beans: “So are you in the market”?

Sophisticated YG:

“Certainly. I’m currently listed on eBay, Craiglist, and will shortly be going up for sale in Sotheby’s. I should warn you though, that I’m pretty flippin’ expensive.”

Beis)

Yentel, a close cousin of the above Yente: “So are you going into shidduchim”?

Yeshivishe Yeshiva Guy:

“Zichur. This mitzvah is the first mitzvah in the Torah, and to be oisek in it is a huge zchus. I’d love to assist two Yidden in this mitzvah, and plan on going into the business professionally soon. I’m gonna call myself Yeshiva Guy the Shadchan.”

Gimmel)

All Knowing Yente (with a subtle smirk): “So, nu, where are you holding”?

Yeshiva Guy (with a not-so-subtle smirk):

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m thinking of going back into Nezikin. Kodshim is kind of boring, you know what I mean? On the other hand, maybe I’ll just switch to Menochos…then again, …etc., etc.”

Daled)

Yente Neighbor asking you for information on your friend who has since graduated college and is working: “So about his financial situation…what business is he in”?

Caustic Yeshiva Guy:

“None of yours”. Zing.

On Coffee Shops and Camaraderie

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

-Sam Walter Foss

Boruch Hashem, I had a very enjoyable Bein Hazmanim. Unfortunately, I can't discuss too much of the specifics of my BH, due to my desire to retain my anonymity...but there was a little action, some trip-ing (no, no that kind), and a LOT of chilling.
When I say chilling, I mean more than just sleeping. Or sitting around the dira engaged in b**l schmoozing passing the night single-handedly rectifying the problems plaguing the yeshivishe velt- I can do that during the zman. Kidding.

Anyway, chilling, for me, means people. Watching. Observing. Even sometimes interacting. And doing so from a discreet, relaxed position, listening to music or whatever.

And not just any people. Oh no. My people; My Yidden. All of them. "The men who are good, and the men who are bad, as good and as bad as I". I can watch them for hours. So where do I that, you ask?

And here I let you, my dear reader, in on a wonderful secret- assuming you aren't a title reader (I know I'm not), and haven't discovered it already. The coffee houses of Israel house the most eclectic, diverse cross section of the Israeli culture around. Perhaps second only to diversity at the Kosel, all types are there, and all over. Yaffo, King George, Rechavia, Ramat Eshkol, Moshav Germanit, and even out of town. I enjoy few things more than rolling into
a cafe and chilling, writing, listening to tunes, and of course watching the people.

So what did I observe? What did I see on this Bein Hazmanim's journey through the cafes of the land? What about the people so attracts, nay, demands my attention? Can engage my interest, and hold it (no mean feat) for hours? I'll do my best to explain, but the truth is you have to try it for yourself to see what I mean...

"The men who are good".

This one spiffilly dressed accounting student type was having serious connection based issues with his laptop. He initially asked the in-house techie of the cafe, and when the techie couldn't help him, the guy was stuck. Or so you'd think.
In a matter of minutes, a number of ordinary patrons with no vested interest in getting this guy up and running did just that- got the guy up and running. (BTW, good bit of trivia to know- "ordinary" patrons in cafes often have serious computer skillz).

In a similar vein, on more than one occasion I've seen random, unconnected Yiddelach help out others. From small things like watching people's stuff while they use the W.C., or even rearranging seat locations to provide others with access to power outlets- nothing surprises
anymore here.

And then, there are

"The men who are bad".

Just the other day, towards the end of the night when the cafe I was in was almost empty, an average American Bais type of bochur around 18/19 years old strolls in.
He needs to use the bathroom. Nothing new. I've seen many people walk in to use the facilities. He's decked out in in a white polo shirt, green khakis, and a leather yarmulke clipped to his head. As he makes his way towards the W.C. door, one of the cafe's servers
bars his way. "Hizmanta Mashehu", he asks? "Huh", he mutters in reply. Clearly no linguist, this bochur. After a minute of exchanging grunts back and forth, the bochur finally chaps what the server wants.
"No, I didn't buy anything".
And in stupefied silence, I watch the Israeli cafe staffer deny the hapless bochur entrance to the bathroom. As the guy turned to make his confused and somewhat embarrassed way out, I observed one more thing.

The staffer was chiloni.

So yeah, there are all types in the coffee houses of Jerusalem. And then again, there was the small coffee shop owner who apologized profusely to me when he realized I couldn't eat anything because of the non-Mehadrin hashgacha. He explained to me why it wasn't Mehadrin;
and made it clear to me that I could sit there as long as I liked- gratis.

Small shop, big man.

And the diversity! Oh, the diversity. All types. Yeshiva guys. Mizrachi. Chiloni. Dati Leumi types. Families in the middle of the day, just stopping in for a minute to cool off with an iced drink. Tech types with huge laptops, using the cafes as offices away from the office.
Dates. Loads of them. Foreigners; Americans, Euros, and even Arabs. Even some organized meets...like this one.
And random groups of friends bumping into other random groups of friends. The atmosphere is, somehow, very homey. One big happy family. And while it may be that the prevailing energy and vibe in cafes is good only for collective benefit reasons (see this piece for more on that), the bottom line is that the overall attitude is:

"And let me be a friend to man".

So while Foss likely didn't mean a coffee "house", I have little doubt that he'd have been at home in one. Or at least in an Israeli one.

So that's my Bein Hazmanim piece, and this is Yeshiva Guy, signing off for Elul Zman. I'll have some pre-scheduled pieces going up, but won't be online-mostly.
If you need something specific, or just want to drop me a line, I'll be on Twitter, or you can get me via the Be BKesher form at the top of the page or here.

Fences, Clubs and Schizophrenia

"You can't sit on both sides of the fence". Or, "men ken nisht tantzen by baide chasunas".

Complete myths, as any member of any Orthodox Jewry enclave will affirm. Many dance at two, three or even four chasunas per night.

But seriously, the fact is that we all do it. Straddle the fence. And us pre-chasuna yeshiva guys more than most, methinks... And I'll explain:

I believe the first fence straddlers were the original schizoid chevra. I also believe that fence straddling may be the basis for the nature of my current life dilemma.
Fence straddling is what almost every yeshiva guy with some creativity does, or has to do. Some of the lucky ones manage to channel their creativity into chiddushei Torah, or
focusing on their learning. But for the large majority of the rest of us who've been exposed to the outside world, what do we do?

We straddle the fence; for some, this might be by going to a Shwekey concert, chilling to Carlebach,or even on the far extreme, goyishe music. For others, a walk in the shuk does it, or sports/excersise will do it for the more active types.
The point is, almost everyone needs an outlet. The real trick, the key, however, is to make sure that the outlet you choose to use won't bring you too far away from the person you want to be.

And for me, walking down the street near the city and observing PIA (People in Action) usually does the trick.

But sometimes it doesn't.

And those are the dangerous times. When I can feel, can touch, can hear that thing, that bochur- no, guy- inside me that wants to break free. To break free and see a little of what life has to offer.
To experience firsthand the things I know about from other, goyishe sources. I'm not referring to the BAD things. I mean the other, okay things that guys I know have done, that guys I know and hang out with do.

For example. Yeah, I'll give you an example.

Its around five years ago, summer Bein Hazmanim. We're chilling in a hotel room. Motel room, actually. Think it was a Red Roof, but definitely that type. 60 bucks a nite, or less. Strange town (on our way to a specific location, traveling), no one knew us. We were doing the regular bochur Bein Hazmanim shpiel- a little smoking, a little TV, and a lot of sleeping. So the evening creeps up on us, and we start thinking about what to do, if anything.
Now this guy, my friend, is a real chiller. The type who be'etzem i pretty frum, and was raised like that, but will constantly surprise you with the stuff he's done or will do. Like I said, pretty chilled.
We cycle through the usuals. Bowling. He's not so into. Wal-Mart. Did already. BBQ. Ate already. We run out of options, and we're both quiet for a minute or so.

And then, out of the hazy, smoked up hotel room air, he hits me with... "How about a club"?

I'm stunned. I'm quiet. And most of all, I'm scared. Scared that I'm gonna say yes.

Thoughts begin their race through my mind. Feelings start their run through my heart. And nervous energy commences its marathon, starting at my feet and working its way up to my shaking shoulders.

"I'm kinda tired", I answer, after a thirty second pause, trying desperately for casual.

I don't want him to hear the nervous tension in my voice. I feel like I'm a vibrating string being picked hard by some psycho, violent guitarist.
And I'm torn that I really wanted to tell him yes, but didn't, thank G-d, because I was too embarrassed to. Of who? Of what?

Of myself, I think. And then there's that...

We, us, Yidden, have that "baishanim" middah. It is always there. And when you need it, you can call on it.
As much as you think you eradicate it by being "geshmack" and interacting with others outside your natural, yeshivish comfort barrier, its always there. Boruch Hashem.

But after the moment passes, and I'm post-processing my feelings about the question and my response to it, I chap that I'm upset with myself, my "good boy" answer notwithstanding.
I'm upset because I would've said yes had I not been embarrassed. And that scares me. A lot.

What will be the next time, when I'm not with someone I'm embarrassed of, when I'm not with someone I "shter zich" from?

And so we straddle the fence, us yeshiva guys, not knowing what tests tomorrow will bring. And becoming, day by day, more and more schizoid.

(credit to iamJoliePhotography for the pic)

(Post partially inspired by this from Frum Flipped)