BEING JEWISH IN NEW YORK

Being Jewish in New York is like being Iranian in Iran. There is no need to search for a Jewish presence as Jewish people and their unique culture dot the city, especially when you are staying on W. 79th Street, just a block from Zabar’s Jewish gourmet grocery. I can hardly wait to get to this famous Jewish landmark to order an “Everything” bagel with a schmear of cream cheese and wait for a stool so I can sit next to other breakfast eaters as their mid-week workday begins. The smell of garlic and onion in this compact bagel eatery is intoxicating. It reminds me of days gone by at Tabatchnik’s Deli across the river in New Jersey when I was a young English teacher just out of college. I try not to stare though I can’t help but wonder which of the customers are Jewish and if they eat here on a regular basis. I am always looking for another Jewish face or name which explains why I stand in the darkened movie theatre watching the credits roll, waiting for possible Jewish names to appear. There is something exhilarating about being around other Jewish people, especially in New York, the entry place in America for so many Jewish families. After breakfast it is only a quick ride through Central Park to the Jewish Museum. To think that there is a building located on Fifth Avenue that is dedicated to Jewish art, history and books. After seeing the exhibits, I linger in the gift shop, fingering the unique menorahs and dreidels and finally buying Jewish books that I have never heard of before. My favorite is Yiddish with Dick and Jane, a delightfully funny volume that is a parody on the original elementary school reading book. It seems that Jane is a realtor like me, hence the words, “Jane works in real estate. Today is Sunday. Jane has an Open House. She must schlep the Open House signs to the car. See Jane schlep. Schlep, Jane. Schlep. Schlep, schlep, schlep.” The story continues two pages later. “Jane likes Open Houses. She likes meeting new people. She even likes the schnorrers who come just to nosh. Nosh, shnorrers. Nosh. Nosh, nosh, nosh.” It’s no surprise to realize that twenty of the book’s 102 pages provide a detailed glossary of Yiddish words. Though I am laughing out loud at the outrageous story line, I suddenly realize this book could be a teaching tool for those unfamiliar with Yiddish expressions. I think of my many San Antonio Jewish friends who are so far removed from the world of my grandparents that they never learned the colorful Yiddish words that were the mainstay of earlier generations. Before long, it is time to head to the Lower East Side where there will be a Playwright’s Forum at a branch of the 92nd Street Y. I find it both unsettling and exciting to find my way around this fabled city during this five-day Jewish theatre conference that includes meeting Jewish artistic directors and playwrights from all over the country and hearing award-winning writers like Donald Margulies talk about the writing of Jewish-themed plays. Unsure of my ability to navigate beneath the city streets, I cab my way around to the different sections of the city, mesmerized by the various neighborhoods where countless Jewish names appear on storefronts. There is Goldberg’s Produce, Anatefka Bagel Boutique, Hymie’s Glatt Kosher Meats, all Jewish businesses located in lower Manhatten. As I soak up the Jewish presence that permeates the Big Apple (wouldn’t the Big Bagel or the Big Brisket be more apropos?), I make a special stop at Jonathan Adler’s shop on Madison Avenue, having read about this Jewish guy online who started out making pottery in his parents’ basement much to the dismay of his mother who wanted him to be a lawyer or a doctor. Little did she know that her talented son would one day be considered a fashion guru whose designer accessories are found in only the most upscale residences. I saw it all. East Side, West Side, all around the town. I leave satisfied that I have enjoyed a full dose of Jewish life for a few days. Landing in the San Antonio airport, I read from my Dick and Jane book as I wait for my husband to pick me up. “Dick and Jane and Sally go to Mother’s house. Mother kvells when she sees Sally. “Sally,” says Mother. “You look wonderful. You have not changed a bit.” “Yes, I have,” I think to myself. I appreciate more than ever how blessed I am to be living the American Jewish life right here in San Antonio.