Tuba In Space

I always thought that there would be no tubas in Space, but on a Star Trek episode some crew member played one in the holo deck. I googled 'tuba star trek' and discovered the Star Trek Voyager theme featured a tuna. Google search also revealed that no tuba has left the plane.

CRAZY MUSLIMS by Peter Nolan Smith

Several years ago I called my 'niece' Andy to wish her Happy New Year. She had already left the diamond exchange and explained that she was having a drink at the Plaza Hotel bar, "I'm meeting my sister and her wife for Rosh Hashanah."

"Nice, I'm in Brooklyn, otherwise I'd come and meet you."

The beautiful brunette and I were ex-workmates from the 90s. We once made out in my old apartment. Andy couldn't do anything more and neither could I, so I became her 'uncle'.

"Uncle Pete, maybe you can tell me, what's with all these bomb attacks? Are these Muslims all crazy?" I could hear other people in the background. None of them were in a panic. New York was safe from any threats at least for today.

"Andy, the bombs are attacks against America in revenge of our bombings in the Middle East.That attack on the embassy in Benghazi because that film about Mohammad really pissed them off." I had seen the fourteen minute trailer. THE INNOCENCE OF MUSLIMS was clearly aimed at setting off Muslims.

"I hear jokes about Jews all the time and I don't go around wanting to burn down anything. My grandfather said that the best thing we could do would be to drop a hundred atomic bombs in the Middle East and get rid of them."

"That's how the Nazis spoke about the Jews. It's stupid talk. Sorry, but I believed in the one land /one state solution and everyone living as one. It is an impossibility, but while I'm an atheist, I do believe in miracles."

"But why are they so crazy about an insult? I was watching on CNN_____"

"Andy, you can't believe what you see on TV, especially the news. CNN, NBC, CBS. None of them have reporters on the scene and good news takes time to report. Their producers look at the images and then try and figure out what to say that people want to hear." I imagined Andy holding an elegant glass in her delicate hand with men at other tables admiring her eternal beauty.

"You mean CNN doesn't tell the truth?" Andy sounded like I had stolen Santa Claus from Hannukah.

"Not in the least, but the reason for the outrage is that for most of the last century these people were repressed by dictators. Anyone who tried to speak out was killed. Any protestors were tortured. Everything was stolen from the people. Everything, but their religion, and this they will not let be defiled, because it is the last of their freedom." It was a simplistic rationale for the murderous attack on the Libyan embassy, but my feeling was a hunch. "What we have to ask is who made this film and what did they have to gain by showing it on 9/11?"

"Who did it?" She really wanted to know.

"Not anyone they said did it." The name Sam Basile had been mentioned in every first report. There was no Sam Basile. "I think the person with the most to gain____"

"I got to run. Here comes my sister." Now was Andy's turn to cut me off.

"You have a good New Year."

"I will." She airsmacked a kiss to the mouthpiece and I ended the call. Nobody had invited me to blow the shofur or the lamb's horn, so I was head down to Frank's for a beer. It was my home away from home and everyone there was family.

Same as was Andy.

It's a small world after all.

OI VEY CHEESECAKE by Peter Nolan Smith

As a young boy growing up outside of Boston, my classmates and I were jealous of the liberal closed-day policy of Beaver Country Day School. The predominantly Jewish school had more snow days per annum than any other institution south of the St. Lawrence River and the shuffle of Holy Days shortened their school year by weeks. I begged my parents to transfer their second son to Beaver Country Day.

The year was 1964.

I was 12.

"And I'm not sure that they let in gentiles." My mother dreamed about my becoming a priest. I didn't have the heart to confess that I was a non-believer.

"I sure if you gave them enough money I could get in." I had pitched Beaver Country day as the best school within the 128 Belt for # 1 7th Grade student at Our Lady of the Foothills.

"No way I'm driving you 45 minutes to another school." My father's commute into downtown Boston was in the opposite direction.

"Please." My reasons were two to be exact.

Beaver Country Day had a short year and Jewish girls were rumored to be easy.

My adolescent body was going through changes and so were those of young girls.

"Not a chance." My father ended my first attempt to become the shabbos goy for die schonner Madchans.

2014 AD or 5774 by Jewish reckoning had eighteen high holidays scheduled throughout the year. High Holy Days such as Yom Kippur, Rosh Hashanah, and Passover were familiar to many gentiles in New York, however the significance of Succot, Sh'mini Atzeret, Simchat Torah, Yom Hashoah, Yom Haatzmaut, Lag B'Omer, Shavuot, Tisha B'Av, and Purim draw blanks from the city's goyim., although I attained that status after long years working for Manny in the Diamond District, where I learned why rabbits are tref, girls shaved their heads, and why Jewish brides smiled going down the wedding aisle.

Manny never closed his store, except for Passaich and Yom Kippur.

His son, Richie Boy, and he were bacon Jews i.e. eating bacon isn't a sin.

Every year they had ignored Tu B'Shevat, Purim, Shushan Purim, Passover, Second Passover, Lag B'Omer .All the others were workable days for their firm, since the first rule of selling diamonds is 'nimmt geld', which is Yiddish for 'take money'. I no longer worked for them, but dropped by 47th Street to wish Manny a 'Happy Shavuot'.

"Happy for what? Business sucks."

"For Shavuot." Seven weeks had passed since Passover.

"Shavuot isn't a holiday. Today is a Wednesday. I'm open for business." I once calculated that Manny had worked basically seventy-five years since his Bowery diamond store had remained open seven days a week from 1954 to 1989.

"Shavuot honors Yahweh's giving the Torah to his people."

"Like I said it's not a real holiday."

"It is for the Hassidim." And Beaver Country Day School

"Who cares what those gonifs think?" Manny would have worked Christmas if he had a chance.

"They believed in the Torah."

"All they care about is making money. Same as anyone else, so we're open tomorrow. Same as any other day.' His work ethic rejected the holiday madness of Beaver Country Day.

"What about having some cheesecake?" Cheesecake and sweets are Shavuot traditions.

"If you want cheesecake, eat all you want." Manny was worried about putting his hand in his pocket. These were hard times and his family looked to the 80 year-old for sustenance.

"What if I buy you a piece?"

"Save your money for your kinder in Thailand and stop trying to be such a good Jew. You're a goy and not a yid."

"I had once been the Shabbos goy."

"Not anymore. You don't even have a job."

"That's true."

"So worry about yourself and not cheesecake." Manny was a tough guy from Brownsville. He would have no weekdays off until the 4th of July. The Diamond District was closed for that week and then Manny was driving to Florida. His girlfriend was waiting in Miami Beach and being with her was no cake walk for Manny.

She was a schitzah and those girls were trouble at any age.

"I'll see you around." I left the exchange.

The best cheesecake in New York was at Junior's. Flatbush Avenue was on my way home and nothing tasted better after a long bike ride than a slice of cheesecake.

Especially for the Shabbos Goy.

Stealing the Shofar

Joseph, a deeply religious man, went to his temple for Rosh Hashanah and forgot his prayer shawl [Tallit], so he borrowed one from "the rack" by the door.

At the end of the service, he realised that he really liked this Tallit so much so that he actually decided to stuff it down the front of his trousers and take it home.

After the service when he was walking through the reception line, the Rabbi Lionel stopped him and whispered, 'Joseph, I am sorry, but I saw you stuff a tallit down your pants. Why would you do this?'

Joseph, totally embarrassed and ashamed, explained the situation, whereupon Rabbi Lionel suggested he remove it from his trousers and give it back. By now, the Tallit had managed to slide half-way down his leg. While Joseph was bent over pulling the it out of his pant leg, he accidentally let out a loud fart.

Rabbi Lionel, exasperated, said, 'Joseph ... you took the Shofar, too?'

ROSH A HOMA - bet on crazy by Peter Nolan Smith

Ten years ago I sat in Frank's Lounge with Vince. The owner's nephew and I were discussing a teaching position as a creative writer. The offer sounded good and the Fort Greene native said, "Hell, I have a four day weekend thanks to Rush a homa."

"You mean Rosh Hashanah?" My boss from the Diamond District also called the Jewish holiday 'rush a homa'.

"Yeah, and I bet no one in this bar know what the holiday is? It's not like I have an extra holiday for Martin Luther King Day." The school administrator was right. Frank's Lounge was a black bar. I was the only token white boy in the place. It was a quiet night for a Friday.

"It's the Jewish Day of Awe, celebrating y'shim creation of Adam and Eve." I knew the High Holy Days from working twenty-odd years on 47th Street. "It's also the Day of Judgment and Jews have ten days until Yom Kippur to repent for their sins. Of course I don't believe in that shit, because I'm an atheist."

"Atheist?" Vince rocked on his stool with laughter. "I'm always amused by you atheists. None of you believe in God until you need him."

"Not true." I stopped praying to God years ago.

"You ever hear about this atheist rowing at the lake, when suddenly the Loch Ness monster attacked and grabbed him from his boat. He panicked and shouted "God help me!", and suddenly, the monster and everything around him just stopped.

A voice from the heavens boomed "You say you don't believe in me, but now you are asking for my help?"

The atheist looked up and said, "Well, ten seconds ago I didn't believe in the Loch Ness Monster either!"

Several of the nearest drinkers chortled at this joke.

"This isn't about atheists. This is about Rosh Hashanah and the sins of the world."

"Well, here's to Rosh Hashanah. I got two days off with pay and my next beer is to Yom Kippur. I love a holiday to fish." Vince ordered me a beer too. I was glad for his hospitality. My money was down to $10. I may have sins, but too many to count on a Sunday night.

Shana Tova everyone.

I Blew The Shofar

Several years ago I was out on Montauk with Richie Boy. The summer rental of his shack had finished the previous Sunday and his beach house was his again. We worked around his cottage in the morning and played with his twins, then hit Ditch Plains at noon. The waves were ankle-high, but the surfers in the water discussed the upcoming swell on Wednesday.

"There's a hurricane out there." Richie eyed the ocean.

"Potentially the biggest waves of the season." Another surfer said sitting on his board..

"I'm taking off the week for Rosh Hashanah."

Nobody argued with Richie's choice. He was almost a local. We spent another hour at the Ditch Plains break, then returned to his shack for a BBQ.

Later I caught the last train to New York and slept in my own bed.

This morning I woke up thinking that today was the High Holy Day of Awe and said as much to AP, my landlord..

"No, it's next Wednesday," AP told me.

"I blew it."

"Better than blowing the chauffeur."

I made a mistake, but what can you expect from a goy?

ps the ocean was flat last weekend, but lovely all the same.

Fort Greene Park # 11

A simple water fountain At the top of the lawn A sip of water from the Catskills Many miles to the north Up the Hudson___

A gentle October evening Children run on the grass Play tag An ancient game Always new ti the very young___ Dogs on leashes Squirrels munch on acorn Fallen into the season's first pile of leaves From a yellow leafed tree Grackels flit from branch to branch Most humans on a phone Talking Texting Blind to the wonders of Fort Greene Park___ Sad their blindness Detached from thos oasis of nature Unable to appreciate our existence ___ But not everyone is lost An old man complimented my straw cowboy hat Bought in Montana Thirty years ago traveling with Ms. Virginia I see her in Chico Hot Springs Laughing on a horse Gone From this Now but with me in eternity Her laugh Her smile Her love With me even now In Fort Greene Park As the sun sets behind the Polytech Fire engines racing to a blaze On Myrtle Avenue Raindrops from above From yellow grey clouds With leaves falling from the trees Oh such joy To have nowhere to go Except to quench my thirst At the fountain

Montauk # 28

Montauk # 28 Gray autumn dawn 61 No longer summer No sun No clothes Step in the shower A warm spray A warmer hose Wind weaves Through the weathered slats This is life Hobo beach bum life Soap and water Clean Then cleaner The ocean on the breeze This is where I am I In the early dawn Everyone asleep Clouds overhead Shut off the water Feet on concrete A damp towel Nothing really dry This close to the sea This is all I need For now