Funny story from my rabbi. Years ago, Isaac Bashevis Singer came to some town in Montclair where my rabbi later headed the congregation (in short, he was hearing this secondhand, years after the fact. It is nevertheless a great story). A congregant tried to talk his father into going.
"No," said the father. "I don't like Singer. I respect that he's a Yiddish writer, but he's too dirty. I don't like the things he writes about."
But the son insisted. "How often are you ever going to get to see a writer of Singer's stature?" Or arguments along those lines. So they go to meet Singer at the shul.
"Come meet him," urged the son. So they approach Singer.
"Hello," says the father.
"Hello," says Singer.
"You know Chaim Grade?" says the father.
"Yes," says Singer.
The father says, "Now, that's a writer."
"No," said the father. "I don't like Singer. I respect that he's a Yiddish writer, but he's too dirty. I don't like the things he writes about."
But the son insisted. "How often are you ever going to get to see a writer of Singer's stature?" Or arguments along those lines. So they go to meet Singer at the shul.
"Come meet him," urged the son. So they approach Singer.
"Hello," says the father.
"Hello," says Singer.
"You know Chaim Grade?" says the father.
"Yes," says Singer.
The father says, "Now, that's a writer."
No comments:
Post a Comment