A Story in Which Two Yeshiva Students Come to a Shtetl

Two yeshiva bucherswent for a walk together and came to an unfamiliar village. It was Fridayafternoon and Shabbos was swiftly approaching. As the sun began to set, thestudents realized they would need to remain in the village until the end ofShabbos. But where would they partake of their Shabbos meal? And where wouldthey spend the night? They would need to ask the village rebbe for a solutionto their predicament.

I take a deep breathand hold the pages at a distance. The story, recently sent back to me by thefreelance Yiddish translator I found online, holds my attention. So simple andChelm-like, it transports me backwards in time, to another world and another mindset.

I pick up the originalhandwritten pages from the table. Pages I had discovered in the attic in a boxlabeled ‘Father’s writings.’ The pages had not been written by my father, butrather by my paternal grandfather. I was emptying the attic because I was sellingmy parent’s house. Three months had passed since my father’s death, and it wastime to put the past behind me. Proceeds from the house’s sale would be sharedwith my two sisters.

Read the rest of the story on OfTheBook.