Reverse Mivtzoim In Miami Florida. Those ULY Ocean Parkway Kids Were Always The Proud Ones.

 

                                                                                                                     

My 22-year-old son was walking down Lincoln Road in Miami when he spotted a Lubavitcher doing Mivtzoim, asking the randoms of the day... Excuse me are you Jewish?

He could have walked  by the Mivtzoim Man, disguising himself as a Cuban guy named Gay Jose who pretended not to speak English. He could have deployed the whole "Me no speakie English" act flawlessly, complete with a convincing accent right along with his creamy coffee colored tan. He learned that skill from the best. I taught him well.

So what did my son do?

He continued walking toward the Mivtzoim Man, initially actually thinking he looked familiar, but as he got closer, he realized he didn't know him at all, not even maybe. This was his perfect opportunity to really morph into Gay Jose and blend in seamlessly and get away.

But…. he’s my son, he goes for the total knock out, all or nothing, head first, not the escape. So he approached the Mivtzoim Man and asked, "Hey! Can I put Tefillin on?" The Mivtzoim Man looked at him and asked, "Are you Jewish?"

Once again, my son was presented with another chance. He could have giggled, pretending to be Gay Jose, just asking that as a dare from his invisible boyfriend Claude from France, and swiftly ran away. But, he’s my kid, the one who at six years old answered the phone a minute before Shabbos, and before I had a chance to sprint over to him and grab it and stop him, and brazenly told the woman on the other end, who’s house I was really just not in the mood of going to that day… Hey girl!! My momma’s sick! She got the flu! So we cant come today, okay!? Bye girl! Good Shabbos!  And hung up with a smile a few seconds later, and looked at me grinning and said "Eema, she said she hopes you feel better soon and you should call her and have a good Shabbos" Aren't you glad you have the flu? I thought I was going to die when he did that…   so he responded to Mivtzoim Man with his grin and head first plan "Yes, I'm Jewish."

The Mivtzoim Man then asked my son if he knew how to wrap Tefillin. And my son took that chance to proudly answer, "My mother made sure I went to Yeshiva. I went to Lubavitcher Yeshiva on Ocean Parkway. Of course, I know how to wrap Tefillin." And then he strapped his armor on.

When he finished, the Mivtzoim Man asked if he had a Rabbi and if so what his name is. My son replied, "Yes, his name is Rabbi Mendy Katz." Then The Mivtzoim Man smiled and exclaimed, "Oh! We're good friends!" My son couldn't believe it and  responded, "Wow Really!?" The Mivtzoim Man confirmed, saying yes, actually he’s my brother...

This only happens in this giant tiny world of ours.

They captured the moment with a picture for the sake of Chabad memories and history, I guess, then exchanged contact info, and my son went on his way with his mitzva and a smile

And then Mendy Katz called him.

And that's when it all became worth it… Every bit of it… Finally. When I got the text with this picture and the story behind it.

Every dreaded subway ride I took using the Lubavitcher Yeshiva-issued Metro Card my brother gave me, attending meetings with Rabbi Fogelman, enduring Mussar meisas about promptly paying my son's tuition, and then sitting in Dechter's office dungeon nibbling on stale chocolate chip cookies while watching my son eating free canteen pizza in the hallway on Dechter's ULY T.V aka security cameras, relishing his "ULY Yichus" acquired from my brother that graduated the previous year, assuring Dechter that I would provide him with a check as soon as possible, even though I had no idea how I would do that... Finally, it all paid off. This moment of reverse Mivtzoim.

Here I am, reminiscing over the rubber checks of no value that Lubavitcher Yeshiva paid the  teachers with, that were handed over to me and then promptly given to Dechter with a cocky smile, on a freezing cold night after texting him to tell him I had the tuition, and he rushed to meet me. And lo and behold, when he looked at the checks, he was furious at  me, telling me about my audacity and then saying “ You have a lot of chutzpa, you really have a lot of chutzpa” before he huffed and puffed on his merry way….  But this makes it all worth it. Every freezing cold bit of it. I hope he would think so too.

I'm not sure if I still have Dechter's cell number anywhere, but if I do, I'll share this story with him, hoping he got over it and will be proud of the little boy from Illinois who had no clue about anything except that he was a Jew, and then learned his Aleph Beis and received his first Chumash in Rabbi Baras's class at United Lubavitcher Yeshiva on Ocean Parkway. The little boy who eagerly went on Mivtzoim every Friday afternoon after school, and not because he had to. The little boy who thought it was called Bisomim at first and went out running, rain or shine, so no Jew would be left behind, and probably for the good snacks too.

Ker A Velt Heint!

Leah (Kleim) Wechsler.

If anyone has Shin Daled's cell number can you send it to me?

Leahkleim1@gmail.com

845-598-9770