foreign language scripted in gold on the wall as I steal a moment to trace as many with my fingers standing on my toes. At one time I knew how to sound out those letters from the tattered paper that belonged to my grandfather, a paper in my hand that warranted looks of astonishment and disbelief from the Hasidim one morning on a packed A train to work and a few questions coming my way. I think it was my response of a "mixed marriage" that threw them off. I did get a wave and a tip of their hats out of it. I waved and smiled back.
Beautiful glass lamps, installed over 123 years before, use to be gas, made the transition to electric in 1907. The Edison bulbs still work, how's that for getting your monies worth. During a history lesson going on around me, I slip off a shoe and trace the worn grooves in the floorboards underneath my feet. Souls upon souls that offered up their hopes, dreams and fears and that wood absorbing every one of them.
3 comments:
WOW! GREAT NEW YORK POST!!!!!
great post happy new year and where does this place exist?
Happy New Year to you too! It's the Eldridge Street Synagogue. Openhouse NYC had their volunteer orientation there so I went, never been in before. I wasn't raised Jewish, but I have some of the papers my grandfather used to teach my mom and her siblings Hebrew when they were little. A fabric I'm grateful to have in my personal makeup.
Gorgeous. A real New York moment. Or moments, from the amalgamation of people and heritages to the grooves beneath the toes. Poetic.
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