You may not think of Bob Katzman as shy or modest but there are some things he will not tell you about himself for fear of being too self serving. This is one of them.
This week, Bob is on the cover of “Chicago Jewish News”. Inside is a lengthy article about Bob and his writing. Just click on the picture above to read it.
Mazel tov, Bob!
© June 2009 by Robert M. Katzman
Part 3: The Sparkling Cosmic Galaxy of Times Square (A)
I set out from The Second Avenue Delicatessen with the blissful feeling I experience (sometimes) when I leave for home after Friday night services at my synagogue, B’nai Torah, north of Chicago. If only for the moment, my chaotic world seems at peace.
New York City, however, is NOT a big synagogue, the world’s assumptions not withstanding. It is a blaze of noise, extremely LOUD noise, color, neon, hustling people, 24-hour traffic, a thousand swearing and suicidal taxi drivers, exotic markets, dozens of ethnicities, and the capitol of In-Your-Face screaming outdoor advertising.
It has energy, attitude, a sense of individualism and collective identity at the same time.
So, for example, if three New Yorkers: a Puerto Rican singer, a Ukrainian-Jewish taxi driver and a West African street vendor of trinkets, all found themselves suddenly stranded (God forbid!!!), say, in Nebraska–after their hysterical wailing ceased–all three would undoubtedly see themselves as (culturally superior) New Yorkers before anything else, and then they’d join forces and desperately go hunting for a bus station to get them the hell out of “nowhere”.
Why?
Because to New Yorkers, in my experience, every other place is somewhere they don’t want to be, and NYC is the throbbing, screeching, electric heart of everything worth seeing, hearing or wearing.
That often repeated line” If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere” (I believe from the great Broadway musical “Annie”) is not correct. Besides, it better applies to Chicago, a tough enough town. Because if you can succeed in the arts, or business, or fashion, or writing, or acting or open a killer restaurant in NYC, why in the world (I can just see the stupefied expressions on a million of their faces) would it matter if there were “anywhere else?” Because to so many striving souls who aspire to be recognized as at the top of their field, success in New York City is the very definition of “success”.
And, honey, if somehow you don’t get that, well then, get your innocent fanny back to Kansas, or Oregon or Oklahoma or whatever softer place you are from, where the standards are lower and the people more forgiving of your averageness. Mother will comfort you there, but don’t expect to find her in NYC.
What follows is a stream-of-consciousness type of description, mostly, of what it was like for me to walk the streets of Manhattan from 2 a.m. until 7 a.m. when I walked out the door of that fabled, reborn delicatessen.
© June 2009 by Robert M. Katzman
Part 2: In Search of the Succulent Brisket
So, in the final few minutes of our brief journey from Newark, New Jersey to New York City, Mark and I delved further into unlikely Jewish territory, after I mentioned the upcoming Bat Mitzvah of my daughter, Sarah Hannah, who coincidentally was born on 9/11/96, since I was telling Mark about her in that place where 9/11 has the most meaning.
My Illinois Rabbi, Jonathan Magidovitch, tells me (frequently) that there are no coincidences.
Who am I to fathom that statement? But it certainly makes you tend to reflect about things that happen to happen, after the fact.
We get to talking about the number three in Jewish tradition, mythology and practice. I think of some and he thinks of some. This is a game in which there are no winners, but it does make you contemplate on the Jewish fascination with reoccurring numbers which seem to have a pattern, may possibly have something to do with there being so many Members of the Tribe who are CPAs, mathematicians, or physicists.
Here is what I recall of that back and forth about “3’s” in our culture. In the event of errors, none of my 1958 Hebrew teachers would be surprised in the slightest:
1-Forefathers of Judaism: Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
2-Noah’s sons: Shem, Ham and Japheth
3-Custom of leaving three stones on a grave site after visiting someone you loved. Varies sometimes, but not in my family.
4-Division of Jews in Exodus: Kohen, Levi and Israelite.
4-Central prayer of devotion in Jewish life, The Sh’ma is required to be said 3 times a day, if possible.
5-Ways to gain atonement: Repentance, prayer and charity.
6-Divorce (ancient): A man circled his wife three times, repeating three times: I divorce you, etc.
7-There are three daily prayer services in observant communities.
8-Moses was the third sibling in line, after Miriam and Aaron.
9-A Jewish court, a Bet Din, has 3 Judges. (Clever. Prevents any ties.)
10-A convert to Judaism must dip three times in a Mikva, or ritual bath.
There are likely endless more examples than these, but it was fun to try to remember them. But after the tenth one, we both immediately saw how this “3” thing migrated to other groups:
Christianity:
1-Three wise men visit Jesus (technically, they were witnessing the birth of a Jewish child, but why quibble?).
2-They left 3 gifts.
3-Jesus rose on the 3rd day after his crucifixion.
4-Holy Trinity: Father, Son and Holy Ghost
5-Roman Catholic’s central ideas: Faith, Hope and Charity (sounds familiar, doesn’t it?)
Moslems:
1-Three holy cities: Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem
I found all this fascinating. Seems like we all have good reasons to get along, doesn’t it?
But then, the bus was pulling into its spot on the curb, right near Grand Central Station. It was close to 1 am.
As he gathers up his things from the storage area under the bus, and I am wearing my two bandolier-type of traveling devices, I asked Mark for some directions, in the event he had ever heard of this certain place I was looking for. It was for me, my own personal “Mecca”.
The famed, but doomed Second Avenue Delicatessen. America’s best deli.