Two guys on Yom Kippur

A short story

My father, Jack Friedman (he’s the one on the right), has dinner every night at the Hebrew Home with Sherman Raye, 97, a Holocaust survivor, who survived the Holocaust by making uniforms for Nazi soldiers and SS officers. Even at this age, Sherman still goes to work every day, still works his craft, is still, proudly, a tailor. Tonight at the Kol Nidre dinner, the evening meal before the Yom Kippur day fast, the waiter came by and filled my father’s coffee cup with decaf, as he always does, but this time, filled it to the brim.

“No,” said Sherman to the waiter, “you filled it too high. You left him no room for the cream,” which is something my father not only would say but has said many times. Moments later, my father noticed what appeared to be a bug on Sherman’s head (you can see it if you look closely) and with his hand, gently tried to brush it off.

It wasn’t a bug.

“It’s a mole,” Sherman said, “but thank you.”

The meaning of Yom Kippur is about spiritual rebirth, atonement, rededication, and hope for a better future.

It’s also about these two guys, two old Jews, and the simple kindnesses of life.