Rabbi’s Musings & Amusings

When my alma mater, Yeshiva Shaarei Torah, was being built during the 1970s, regular domestic wood was obtained for the building. One of the parents of the yeshivah approached the founding rosh yeshivah, Rabbi Berel Wein, and told him he could obtain better-quality wood from Finland at a cheaper rate. The latter wood was far more durable and was expected to last 150-200 years, as opposed to the domestic wood, which was expected to last only 90 years. Rabbi Wein, however, refused the Finnish wood and insisted that the regular wood was sufficient. He told the surprised parent that in America we build too well and for too long. Things move fast, and it’s hard to make calculations for 200 years from now. We don’t need wood that will outlast our grandchildren’s grandchildren. Historically, there are very few Jewish buildings that remain in Jewish hands after 90 years.

One night this past summer, Camp Dora Golding went on a trip to a water park. Since the water park was not that far from camp, I drove there with my sons instead of going on one of the camp buses.

“It was the best of jobs; it was the worst of jobs. It was the epoch of tranquility; it was the epoch of disunity. It was the season of warmth; it was the season of freezing. It was spring for one; it was winter for another.”

One afternoon this week, while driving my car, as soon as I stopped at a red light, the air conditioning began blowing hot air. It was a hot day, and the air conditioning was on at full blast, so the effect of the hot air was immediate. As soon as I began driving again, the air reverted to being cold.

So what’s with the swag?

Wherever you go these days people seem to be very into swag. The term “swag” originated in hip-hop culture, but it has entered mainstream lingo. It refers to clothing and accessories that have a particular logo or design representing a certain brand. Wearing or sporting swag is meant to confer confidence because of the swag.

It’s ironic but, as an eighth-grader, I did not want to attend Yeshiva Shaarei Torah. My older brother was there, and my parents felt it would be a good fit for me as well, but I didn’t agree.

Looking back, 30 years later, I am ever grateful that my parents insisted on sending me to Yeshiva Shaarei Torah. The Yeshiva became my second home for many wonderful years.