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pieces that could not be parted; a
necklace, earrings and a bracelet,
at 25 cents each. This upset Miri
am’s calculations but, undaunted,
she started to negotiate with the
young assistant. In the end her
blue-eyed charm won and Miriam
was allowed to purchase three
necklaces without all the other
pieces.
But at this moment, the princi
pal intervened. A big, burly fellow,
with black hair and dark com
plexion, he said brusquely in a
loud voice:
“You can’t do that! What am I
to do with the earrings and brace
lets, if everybody takes the neck
laces? It’s either the set or noth
ing.”
Miriam’s lower lip started to
tremble and knowing that tears
were not far away, I stepped for
ward.
“But your assistant said she
could have the necklaces . .
“He is no good,” the proprietor
waved his hand in deprecation, “he
is a Jew.”
My blood pressure rose. “You
better be careful what you say —
1 too am Jewish.”
The big frame of the shopkeeper
shook with uncontrolled laughter
— he was nearly choking with it.
Full of rage and embarrassment
1 took the child by the hand and
turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” called the man
after me and with a leap he bar
red my way. The situation was
getting nasty. What do I do now —
fight my way out or shout for
help?
With a sudden, quick movement
the man reached into the open
neck of his shirt and pulled out
a silver mezuzzah on a thin chain.
“A little joke,” he explained
goodnaturedly, his eyes twinkling
with merriment. “I knew you were
Jewish the moment you came in
and this confirmed it,” he added,
pointing to the Mogen David on
Miriam’s neck.
We shook hands with “Shalom
Aleichem—Aleichem Shalom” and
exchanged life stories. I told him
we were on a visit from England
— he originated from Brazil.
As by now we were the best of
friends, he thought he would offer
me “a real bargain” — a musical
box this time. Lovingly he wound
it up and ecstatically closed his
eyes, rocking his head to and fro
and swinging his free arm in time
with the tinkling tune . . .
It was the hardest thing in the
world to decline the offer and I
felt really mean. But he was
magnanimous and let Miriam have
her necklaces just the same.
Some weeks later, I was given
one of them for Hanukah. By then,
we were back in England.
“Please, Mummy, will you forget
what I paid for it?” said my
daughter, handing me the present
carefully wrapped in tissue paper.
I could gladly promise her that,
for whenever I look at the neck
lace, I only remember the lights of
Times Square reflected in her eyes,
the tinkling of the musical box and
the warmth of a meeting between
Jew and Jew. Thank you, Miriam.
I like my Hanukah present very
much!
jess jawin — BARBER TALK
We’ve heard so many stories from and about barbers that we
thought you’d like one taken from Dave Harrison of the Philadelphia
Jewish Exponent. David gives Marquis Childs, the well known Washing
ton correspondent credit for spinning the yarn. And Childs gives Presi
dential Press Secretary Pierre Salinger credit for its popularity. Before
too much hair spliting we’ll let David tell it in his own words.
The story is about a man who was about to leave on his first trip
to Europe and stopped in to get a haircut in preparation for the exciting
experience. While clipping away, the barber asked him where he in
tended to go.
“First we’re going to London,” the imminent traveler said en
thusiastically, but the barber interrupted.
“London!” he almost shouted. “Who wants to go to London? All it
does is rain. You’ll be soaked all the time.”
A bit subdued, the tourist continued, "Well, from there we’re going
to Paris.”
“Paris!” the barber exclaimed. “Do you know what happened in
Paris? The prices are out of this world. You want a meal — they charge
you a month’s rent!”
“From Paris we plan to go to Rome and try to get an audience with
the Pope,” the customer went on hopefully. “Ha! That’s a good one! You
know what kind of an audience you’ll get? You and a hundred thousand
other tourists will stand in St. Peter’s Square and the Pope will wave to
you fro ma balcony a quarter of a mile high!”
The haircut completed, the customer went on his much maligned
trip to Europe. Eeveral weeks later, he returned to the shop for another
haircut.
“So how was that trip of yours?” asked the barber with a smile that
bordered on smirk.
"Glad to tell you about it,” was the answer. “In London the sun was
shining every day — perfect weather at all time. Then in Paris we found
everyone polite and the prices very reasonable — couldn’t have enjoyed
it more. . . . And believe it or not, in Rome we were granted a private
audience by the Pope.”
“You were!” the surprised barber replied. “What did the Pope say?”
"Well, when I leaned over to kiss his ring,” the returned traveler
replied, “he said, ‘where on earth did you get that horrible haircut?’ ”
— TEXAS JEWISH POST. FT. WORTH
W. E. BROWNE
DECORATING COMPANY
Antiques — Interiors — Reproductions
♦
OFFICES
443 Peachtree St., N. E.
Atlanta 8, Ga. TR. 4-4416
^JJanuhah (jreetinys
A & S
1 Peachtree Bldg.
Realty Co.
JA. 4-8861
Atlanta 3, Georgia
Cordial Moliday Wish
ies
HARMON ENTERPRISES, Inc.
1012 Pryor St., S. W. JA. 2-8826
LUTHER P. HARMON, President
H. B. Fuller Company
Of Georgia
—Manufacturers of
Industrial Adhesives
MA. 2-3502
655 Mead St., S.E.
Atlanta 12, Ga.
The Southern Israelite
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