Seidemann: A Passover miracle

From the other side of the bench

By David Seidemann

Issue of May 1, 2009 / 7 Iyar 5769

In a few hours, the Boeing 767-200 would touch down at JFK as I eagerly awaited my level bed and leavened bread. Don’t get me wrong — this was one of the most enjoyable Passovers in at least a year. Nevertheless, there is something so great about my home, my bed and my wife’s cooking.

It was truly a memorable Passover spent with my wife’s family out West. We also reunited with friends she grew up with and friends I have made over the years during our frequent visits to the City of Angels, and with one of my childhood friends — now the rabbi of the shul where my wife’s family davens.

We enjoyed the second seder at his home and then returned for lunch on Shabbos. The meal lasted for five hours as we reminisced about growing up together in Columbus, OH and highlights of our time at Ner Israel Rabbinical College of Baltimore, MD.

We had a house to ourselves and use of a car as we “swapped” with a family that came to Lawrence for Pesach. The house was a 15 minute walk from my wife’s brother’s house, 10 minutes from the shul, and four houses down the block from our friends, Irv and Cynthia, two of the most giving people one would ever meet. Irv, a doctor, also has a keen sense of humor, both important traits as they relate to the following story.

Approximately four hours before Yom Tov my wife took our four daughters on a walk around the neighborhood. I decided to take a nap and removed my shoes, socks and shirt. No sooner had I laid my head upon the pillow when I heard a knock on the door. I assumed one of my daughters had forgotten their sunglasses and opened the door sans shoes and socks. To my surprise, I stood eye to eye with a middle-aged Russian woman sporting a portable manicure, pedicure and massage center. “I here for present” she stammered in Russinglish. My first thought was that Irv and Cynthia were treating us to a pre-seder siesta. I was about to invite her in (for my wife!) when my second thought took hold. Oh, I still thought it was Irv being Irv, but the comic Irv. I figured he was setting me up — waiting outside to send the lady in just as my wife and kids had left. But how would Irv know they would be leaving for a walk?

Thought three paid a visit. It wasn’t Irv at all. It was his lovely wife Cynthia who had sent the masseuse not for me, but for my wife. That hypothesis was furthered when “Helga” said, “no, not you — I here for the Mrs.” Should I have her come in and wait or should I tell her to come back?

Thought four made its entry. Cynthia knew we were coming for Pesach but didn’t know we had swapped houses with one of her neighbors. Or did she? I asked the lady if she was sure she had the right house. She answered in the affirmative. “Yes — they tell me house with black car in driveway.” I looked outside and noticed neighbors’ homes to the left and right with black cars just like the color of the car we were using.

“What is the name of the woman you are looking for?” I asked. “I’m not sure,” she answered. “What is your wife’s name?” she asked. “Jane,” I answered. “What is name of lady of the house?” she said. And now I was trapped. You see my sister-in-law had made all of the arrangements with my wife and the lady of the house in which I was standing barefoot. “I don’t know,” I said sheepishly. “You don’t know the name of the lady in the home you in? What is family name?” she asked accusingly. When I answered ‘I don’t know’ to both, she reached for her cell phone like a sheriff reaching for his gun. “Why you in house of family you know no name?!” and she began to dial.

Thought five. My wife will be home any minute and I’ll be standing here barefoot with a Russian pedicurist and the police! While the scene was transpiring between an overly animated and suspicious Russian masseuse and a barefoot New Yorker pleading that there was no need to call the police, guess who just happened to drive by? You guessed it — Irv. Irv had witnessed the entire exchange, didn’t recognize the lady, and wasn’t sure if it was me or not, but knew something was amiss. The fact that he didn’t call the police on both of us was a Passover miracle in itself.

Cooler feet prevailed and I persuaded the lady to try a different house in search of her customer. As it turned out, another neighbor (neither Irv nor Cynthia) had engaged the services of this woman for the benefit of a neighbor next door to the home I was in, who had just given birth.

When I told my wife what she had missed, she wasn’t sure if perhaps I exaggerated a bit. But when Irv confirmed the entire story at lunch on the second day of Pesach, I was “redeemed.” I have learned my lesson. I will never open the door barefoot for a Russian pedicurist if I am using a black car in a home which is next door to a woman who just gave birth who also owns a black car and who lives three houses to the right of a doctor named Irv who happens to be married to a woman named Cynthia.

David Seidemann is a partner with the law firm of Seidemann & Mermelstein. He can be reached at (718) 692-1013 and at ds [at] lawofficesm.com.