Business in the Diamond District is spotty after the 4th of July. Most New Yorkers are preparing for summer vacations. Tourists enter our diamond exchange to gawk at the diamonds and jewelry. At least twice a day out-of-towners ask in complete seriousness, "Are they real?"
"Everything is real." I answer the visitors and launch into a short spiel about the value of diamonds and gold. "Years ago we told the customers that diamonds were a good investment. It was sort of true then, but now diamonds appreciate in value better than houses plus they're easier to convert into cash at times of need."
The tourists nodded with understanding. Their homes have lost value three years in a row. My boss Richie Boy doesn't have the patience for these rubes, but occasionally they are buyers.
This Wednesday I sold an Italian diamond bracelet to a Vermont couple celebrating their 60th anniversary. They lived a short distance from Richie Boy's ski shack and he warmed up to them. Selling turns him on like a drag racer on nitro.
Thursday he delivered a 31-inch diamond necklace set with certified .40 ct diamonds. The piece was a magnificent blaze of reflected light set in platinum. His customer makes millions every day. He could shop at Harry Winston, but Richie Boy and he go back to the 80s. Both are loyal to each other. Richie Boy returned to the store after closing and said, "That's it I'm headed out to my surf shack."
Fridays were dead on 47th Street. Richie boy needed his rest. he had rescued the firm through a series of near-miraculous sales. I had helped with a few deals out of the blue. None of us were broke. A rarity for many men in 2011.
"What are you doing this weekend?" A newly-married diamond dealer asked him.
"I'm having a kosher pig BBQ."
"How can pig be kosher?" Marvin had eaten pork a few times in his life. The balding 50 year-old wasn't glatt kosher, but neither was he a bacon Jew. One thing he was was gullible. Marvin had been the president of the glee club of a summer camp in the Jewish Alps. He was a good boy.
"A special rabbi consecrates the pig before killing it according to an ancient Hebrew tradition. It predates the Torah." Richie Boy is a great salesman and Marvin admired his chutzpah as well as his ability to thrive amongst the goyim.
"Really?" Marvin was swallowing the possibility of kosher bacon with a kvelling smile.
"100%. Come out to my BBQ and I'll introduce to the delight of pork."
Marvin departed, promising to show up at the beach BBQ. We laughed at his schmielism and Richie Boy prepared for his early departure from New York. his father would have kvetched like an old yenta. Manny was addicted to work. At 83 the only choice were work or death. Manny and I fought every day. Our arguments flushed the blood through his body. I hoped that he lived to 103. At 59 I had more in common with him than most of the people on the planet.
"You know the reason why pork is tref?" I had a slew of contradictory theories.
"It caused people to have worms in the old days." Richie Boy checked the store. Nothing valuable was on the desks. He nodded for me to shut the safe. "And don't tell me that it's because Yahweh ordered the Jews give up pork as the ultimate sacrifice."
"Little tastes better than bacon." Richie Boy and I knew each other over 30 years. We had heard each other's stories enough to give them numbers. I was still capable of catching him off-guard. "Pork is tref no matter what. Leviticus condemns pig for its cloven food, but there is such a thing as kosher pork chops. Not for the Hassidim, but it's cooked with pickle juice and kosher salt."
"It sounds as dry as an old shoe." Richie Boy possessed a better than average epicurean palate. he hated common food other than pizza, pastrami sandwiches, hamburger, and chicken Parmesan.
"Not something I'd eat, but maybe scientists can genetically modify a pig to have feet instead of hooves." I had eaten pigs' foot in Berlin. It was considered the city's signature dish. "Pigs with little toes."
"Stop. That's sacrilege."
"Sacrilege and heresy are my specialties." I set the alarm. Friday was my last day on the job. Two and a half years ago I had returned to New York with $100 in my pocket. Things were better now. I wished Richie boy a good weekend.
"You can come out on Saturday."
"Thanks, but I got to get ready for my trip." I was heading out to Thailand for a month. It would be the longest that I had spend with since 2008. "If there really was kosher pig I might change my mind."
"You never know."
"I know." Richie Boy and I had spent too much time together over the past years. It was time for a break. Kosher pig or not.
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