Yesterday things changed. Sam, a young fellow who started coming in July, is now Gabai. Sam is very tall and slender. His clothes hang from him as if from a hook on the wall. He smiles frequently and spent a semester in Buenos Aires. He speaks to me in Spanish with an Argentinean-American accent. It is very peculiar. We talked back in July and he explained to me that he was not very up-to-date on the various aspects of prayer becasue he only recently became religious, Choser Ve-Tshuvah ("one who returns in response" to an inner calling, I suppose). Ben , the normal Gabai, is not here. No one told me why, I believe he must be on vacation.
I did nto go today for two reasons. First I am going tonight to Rodeph Shalom, and second Sam did a pol of hands yesterday to see who was coming today and it became clear there would not be a Mynian.
I realize I never described the setting of the services at Chabad. The building is a formerly elegant summer house from the 1800s, painted white. It is though in an overall shabby, abandoned condition. It has a neglected front yard, with a white stone staircase going up to the first floor landing. A sturdy fence, maybe 4 feet tall, made of black metal seperates the front yard form the sidewalk. Below the fence, on the outside, is a narrow strip of dirt where some weeds have sprouted. The strip has a very low fence, maybe a quarter of a foot tall, made of meshed wire that ties onto metal posts dug into the dirt. This small fence is rusted and hangs loose at various places. I know because I park my bike on the narrow strip. I lift the bike over the little meshed wire and I hook its handrails to the black fence so that my wheel is close enough to it to be able to use my Kryptoite lock to secure the bike. I have many times stumbled on the handing meshed wire and once almost stabbed my self with the protruding supporting post.
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