A Mensch is a Mensch
"Anna, you have an appointment with the Kollel ladies this Tuesday," Alizah said to me.
"Thank you. What is this all about?" I asked.
"They are starting a new matchmaking service. They want to connect with other like groups all over the country and all over the globe. I've told you before, you'll never know what they have to offer unless you check them out." Alizah, my childhood friend, has been trying to find me a husband for years. And I have had some interesting adventures thanks to her arrangements.
"If my experience serves me well, I do believe that they will check me out. Okay, I'll go. What time?"
Alizah smiles, "two o'clock in the afternoon. Their office is across the street from our favorite pizza place."
This is how my Sunday began. But it continued in a very special way. There was a new musician in town, David Saada, from France. He was a conductor. We always crossed paths on Shabbos and once in a while on campus. A nice guy. Not my type, but a nice guy. Once at university, I caught up with him after a rehearsal, "how is the chamber orchestra?" I asked.
"We are learning each other," he responded.
"So when do I get to hear you play your real instrument (that meant a symphony orchestra)?" I asked.
He was thrilled to tell me that his community orchestra was performing on Sunday afternoon. He would send his roommate with two tickets and then he gave me instructions on where to meet up with the fellow and the tickets.
It was now Sunday lunchtime. Fed and watered, I grabbed my bag and drove to the concert hall. Just as David had explained there by the double doors was a roommate holding two tickets in his hand. I approached this fellow cautiously. "Are you Mischa?" I asked.
"Are you Anna," he replied. I nodded and he nodded, so far so good. This roommate had never been to an orchestral concert. He was dressed in his Shabbos best. I was impressed with his respect for something so new.
"Let's go in and find our seats." I handed him a program and kept one for myself. We were seated in the middle of the balcony. David gave us good tickets. I was happy as the concert began. Mahler's Fifth Symphony... there was a little shuffling behind us for a short while. We listened and listened. David was a good conductor. And then the Adagietto began. It is a beautiful melody that is passed from one instrument section to the next. It is a quiet movement. And someone behind us was coughing up a storm. "Where are those ushers?" I thought. This cougher is ruining the concert.
Mischa leaned over to whisper "excuse me, I'm going to check this out. I'll be right back."
Okay... okay. I hear a groan, a click, and a gasp for breath. Then everything is quiet and the concert continues. After a long while, Mischa returns to his seat. During intermission he tells me that the lady behind us was choking on a hard candy. He knew the sound because his mother does this now and then. So, he did something called Heimlich, the candy popped out of her windway, and then he got her a drink of water. He saved her life. All I was worried about was some music. What a mensch! He saved a life and enjoyed the music.
The concert ended. I thanked Mischa for his help and we went our separate ways. A few days later I would be sitting with a bunch of Kollel ladies. Interviewed or interrogated, whatever you would like to call it, they were satisfied that they had a match for me. They wanted to make a few phone calls and they promised to contact me the next day.
True to their word, these are Kollel ladies after all, one of them called me on Wednesday. She explained that they matched me up with a journalist in Canada and that I should expect a letter from the man within the week. This particular shidduch would proceed as a pen-pal arrangement. And so it did.
Once a week I reported in to the ladies. They were all nice and friendly. One day I was greeted at the door by one of the younger ladies, "you passed his intelligence test!" she exclaimed. I looked at her, I was not happy. "Did anyone ask me if he passed my intelligence test?" I growled. "NO, because I wasn't giving one. I want a mensch, not the next Pulitzer Prize winner." Then I told them about that Sunday afternoon concert when Mischa saved a life while I was disgusted with the noisy cougher. "That is the kind of man I would like to meet. Someone who knows that life is sacred."
The ladies stared at me. Silence, just silence. Finally, someone spoke, "Mischa is the only person in our catalogue who we would never suggest to you. He is simply not of your caliber."
"Oh, excuse me, ladies... you all have this wrong. I am not of his caliber." We continued to talk. They knew Mischa but only from the experience of his ex-wife. They did not know the man I met... the man who saved a life. He was hard working though not learned. He understood that there was a realm beyond what he knew. He focused on being honest, hard working, reliable, and respectful. They needed to see another side of him. And to their credit, they finally did.
A mensch is a mensch is a mensch. The ladies found Mischa a wonderful bride. Someone who would appreciate him. I ended the pen-pal arrangements with the Canadian journalist because I did not like being tested. And things were brewing to bring me and Sam together. But not just yet.
(A blessed day to all mothers and to all those who care for others. These are the people who inherit the heart of life.)
It was now Sunday lunchtime. Fed and watered, I grabbed my bag and drove to the concert hall. Just as David had explained there by the double doors was a roommate holding two tickets in his hand. I approached this fellow cautiously. "Are you Mischa?" I asked.
"Are you Anna," he replied. I nodded and he nodded, so far so good. This roommate had never been to an orchestral concert. He was dressed in his Shabbos best. I was impressed with his respect for something so new.
"Let's go in and find our seats." I handed him a program and kept one for myself. We were seated in the middle of the balcony. David gave us good tickets. I was happy as the concert began. Mahler's Fifth Symphony... there was a little shuffling behind us for a short while. We listened and listened. David was a good conductor. And then the Adagietto began. It is a beautiful melody that is passed from one instrument section to the next. It is a quiet movement. And someone behind us was coughing up a storm. "Where are those ushers?" I thought. This cougher is ruining the concert.
Mischa leaned over to whisper "excuse me, I'm going to check this out. I'll be right back."
Okay... okay. I hear a groan, a click, and a gasp for breath. Then everything is quiet and the concert continues. After a long while, Mischa returns to his seat. During intermission he tells me that the lady behind us was choking on a hard candy. He knew the sound because his mother does this now and then. So, he did something called Heimlich, the candy popped out of her windway, and then he got her a drink of water. He saved her life. All I was worried about was some music. What a mensch! He saved a life and enjoyed the music.
The concert ended. I thanked Mischa for his help and we went our separate ways. A few days later I would be sitting with a bunch of Kollel ladies. Interviewed or interrogated, whatever you would like to call it, they were satisfied that they had a match for me. They wanted to make a few phone calls and they promised to contact me the next day.
True to their word, these are Kollel ladies after all, one of them called me on Wednesday. She explained that they matched me up with a journalist in Canada and that I should expect a letter from the man within the week. This particular shidduch would proceed as a pen-pal arrangement. And so it did.
Once a week I reported in to the ladies. They were all nice and friendly. One day I was greeted at the door by one of the younger ladies, "you passed his intelligence test!" she exclaimed. I looked at her, I was not happy. "Did anyone ask me if he passed my intelligence test?" I growled. "NO, because I wasn't giving one. I want a mensch, not the next Pulitzer Prize winner." Then I told them about that Sunday afternoon concert when Mischa saved a life while I was disgusted with the noisy cougher. "That is the kind of man I would like to meet. Someone who knows that life is sacred."
The ladies stared at me. Silence, just silence. Finally, someone spoke, "Mischa is the only person in our catalogue who we would never suggest to you. He is simply not of your caliber."
"Oh, excuse me, ladies... you all have this wrong. I am not of his caliber." We continued to talk. They knew Mischa but only from the experience of his ex-wife. They did not know the man I met... the man who saved a life. He was hard working though not learned. He understood that there was a realm beyond what he knew. He focused on being honest, hard working, reliable, and respectful. They needed to see another side of him. And to their credit, they finally did.
A mensch is a mensch is a mensch. The ladies found Mischa a wonderful bride. Someone who would appreciate him. I ended the pen-pal arrangements with the Canadian journalist because I did not like being tested. And things were brewing to bring me and Sam together. But not just yet.
(A blessed day to all mothers and to all those who care for others. These are the people who inherit the heart of life.)
Wonderful story. I love stories with a twist and this one has two twists.
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