I got to Shabbat services a little late on Friday night, after a combo of bus/ATM hunt/cab. I snuck in and was shocked to find a full sanctuary. It was an early service with a share shabbat dinner afterwards. If you feed them, they will come.
I sat in the middle of some families by myself. I saw Sandy–a recently retired woman I’d met at my first or second service. And Ken–who sat in front of me on New Years. Otherwise, it was a lot of new faces and excited little kids.
After the service, Sandy ran over to me, “Are you staying for dinner?” “Yes.” “Let’s hurry, we have to get a table.” She literally ran the way, nearly running to Lederer Hall. The goal was to get a table close to the buffet line and to save four seats for the other Golden Girls.
So what I’m saying is, I have been socially accepted into a group of widowed or divorced jewish women in their 60s and 70s. I wasn’t sitting with the 20s and 30 somethings, nope. With the Golden Girls. It was hysterical.
“Get the wine open.” “Pass the Challah again.” “Not that I need it, but I’m getting more cake.”
For the record, Kosher Wine is practically undrinkable. The part where you get to drink wine at dinner at the temple isn’t nice at all, cause it is gross kosher wine. YUCK. Later Erin came over, she is another girl my age who isn’t jewish yet. We had a good talk about converting, our families, and the shul. Then a couple came up to introduce themselves to us. We do stick out like sore thumbs.
At the same time Ken walked up and asked if Erin was my DAUGHTER. I’m 27 and Erin is 25. We had a good laugh, but do I really look that old? does she look that young? Then it was time to say Shalom and head into the cold, cold night.
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