Such a small town, Chicago is. I, of course, got to the theater early, so I went to Border’s for a while. I had plans (ahem, a date) at the Gene Siskel Film Center to see Zorro’s Bar Mitzvah. As I stepped out of Border’s I ran into a friend from my synagogue who was on his way to see the same movie. When we got upstairs, I ran into a friend from my life at IES.
The movie was… slow. A documentary without much of an agenda other than to illustrate four families b’nei mitzvot in modern Germany. It was both touching and a little vulgar. I guess I just don’t roll with Jews who bar mitzvah in such grandiose ways. I mean, flamenco dancers? Horses? A film crew?
What about the torah? The tikkun olam?
There was an awful lot of laying of teffelin and a lot of mechiztas. Some wigs, some big hats, and a lot of joy. If you have the chance to see this in your town, I’d go.
My date did not judge me on my manicure. Maybe because I ran out at lunch and got a new one or maybe he isn’t the type of guy that would judge me on my chipped nail polish. Time will tell, no? All I’ll tell you is that he doesn’t have a criminal record. Not that I have a record for going on dates with guys with rap sheets (do I?) but he doesn’t have one…. so even if I did have that habit. Which I don’t. Really.