Moshe and Mordechai sat in Katz’s Bakery, in Liberty, New York, enjoying their breakfast.
Moshe bit into his bialy, chewed, swallowed and said, “Mordechai, this morning, I watched a show on Netflix called, “The Toys That Built America. It’s a great series. You should watch it. The episode I watched was about G.I. Joe. Remember how your boys loved playing with those real American heroes. They spent hours screaming, smashing and pretending they were macho soldiers winning wars for America. They spent hours shooting G.I. Joe’s rifles, tossing his hand grenades and pushing his jeep up hills and through rivers. They loved pretending they were Rambo. It made them feel like men.
Do you recall when we were kids in the ’50, we’d spent days playing with grey, brown and green plastic toy soldiers. We’d set up two armies, the Nazis versus the Americans. We’d line them up and then smash them down. The Americans always won.
Since we’re talking about winners and losers, did you watch the news last night?
“Yup, I did.”
“Did you see those Jewish kids being threatened and beaten up by those pro-Palestinian mobs.”
“Yup and it was happening at prestigious universities, like Harvard, MIT, Penn and NYU. Those schools don’t seem to give a shit about their Jewish students.”
Moshe, I lay the blame for those kids’ problems on their Jewish mothers. Do you remember in the late 80’s, Jewish moms stopped buying war toys, like G.I. Joe for their sons? Those mothers chanted, ‘War toys: What are they good for? Absolutely Nothing!’
Well, those mamales were absolutely wrong. It seems that Jewish moms have a propensity for screwing up their kids.”
“Mordechai, you got to be kidding me? You can’t believe what you’re saying. And why do Jewish mothers always get blamed for everything?”
“Nope, I’m not kidding and I believe it. When I was at UM and the Iraqi government was hanging Jews, we protested and a mob of Arab students tried to break it up. It turned into a major brawl. Fists were flying everywhere. No running. No backing down. We stood our ground. We weren’t afraid of bloody or broken noses. We fought like G.I. Joes.
Today’s smart Jewish kids never fought for anything except their grades. Today’s American Jewish kids have been brainwashed into believing their school will protect them. They think their only option is to run and barricade themselves in their dormitories. They talk flight, and not fight. They’ll run and hide by transferring to a safer school. And their parents are no help. They think just because they’re laying out 100 grand a year in fees, that these Universities should be providing bodyguards for their kids. Boy, are they wrong.”
“My friend, you know you make a good point. When I get home, I’m going online and I’m going to buy my grandsons a bunch of war toys, like G.I. Joes. This college generation of Jewish kids may be beyond help but my grandkids won’t be.”
Picture of President Kennedy in the limousine in Dallas, Texas, on Main Street, minutes before the assassination. Also in the presidential limousine are Jackie Kennedy, Texas Governor John Connally, and his wife, Nellie
Do You Remember What You Were Doing 60 Years ago on 11/22/63?
I sure do! Junior in High School without a care in the world. The excitement of what lay ahead in the future filled my mind with dreams and expectations. It was a simpler time—think Father Knows Best or Happy Days. If there were any angry people, mass killings, war between the political parties, Skinheads, haters, or any other problems like today, I didn’t know about it. But be aware that I was raised on a farm, and I was sheltered from many of the bad deeds that people do. I thought everybody loved each other and that our goal was to help one another. OK, when you stop laughing, just accept the fact that I was naive.
I played on the High School Team and our team was undefeated! We were ranked number one in eastern North Carolina. Back then, there was no state champion. The state was split in half with an East or West Champ.
It was Friday, November 22, 1963. A beautiful fall day that started out like any other day. Little did we know what would happen on this day and all we were thinking about was girls and football.
Our team left Stedman, NC on a bus headed to East Carolina. We were to play against Perquimans High School for the Eastern 2A Football Championship in Ficklen Stadium. Back then, it was only half completed so we were to play in half of a stadium. We were undefeated with an 11-0 record. Perquimans was 8-2 and in many of our minds, we had already won! As a point of interest, Catfish Hunter was attending Perquimans during this time before he was a famous major league pitcher. I don’t know if he played on the football team, but I used to tell people that he was there.
After about three hours or so, we arrived at the university around 3:00 pm. As soon as we got off the bus, the college students were all abuzz with startling news—The President has been shot! The President has been shot! At first, we didn’t believe it and we thought because we were gullible high school kids, they were pulling our legs! They said, no, it’s true—go into the student union. In the student union was a TV. Walter Cronkite was on the TV, and we then knew something was up because he was never on until 6 pm. As we got closer, we could see and hear the college students crying and comforting their friends. When we could finally hear the TV, Walter was saying, “President Kennedy has been shot—we will let you know his condition as soon as it is passed to us!” Shortly thereafter, we learned that he was dead.
I don’t know why but I cried. I felt sadness and fear for our country. And a heavy feeling of dread washed over me. President Kennedy was young and handsome. He spoke like no other president had, pronouncing words like Alabamer instead of Alabama. I was moved by his “Ask not what you can do for yourself” speech. He had a beautiful wife and family. I didn’t know about Marylin Monroe and his other escapades until much later. In other words, he was a hero to me. I truly thought that the game would be cancelled!
It wasn’t. The officials agreed that we should play. I remember the announcer saying, “Let’s pause for a moment of silence in honor of our slain president.” I remember thinking, is that it? Our president is dead and all we can do it give him 60 seconds of silence. We shouldn’t even be here! We should be surrounded by our families, glued to the TV, and mourning together! I didn’t feel like playing the game and the fun was gone.
We played. Or should I say, we watched! I am sure the death of our president affected us all, but it didn’t seem to bother the Perquiman’s players because they play like demons! We forgot about the president during the game, but we just couldn’t get the Rams ramming. Our team’s name was the Stedman Rams.
At half time, they were ahead something like 27 – 0. I really don’t remember the exact score, except that we were stunned.
Perquimans had twins at the running back positions—Freddy and Frankie Combs. One of them would go on to NC State and make All-American! During the second half, I was playing defensive end, and it was my job to keep the runner from getting to the outside. The play went to the left so I relaxed thinking the left side of the defense would make the tackle. Suddenly, the running back reversed direction and came back toward me! I felt like I was running in concrete shoes—he ran by me so fast that it was just a blur. Another Perquimans touchdown and the coach breathing fire mad at me for not stopping him!
I remember the coach being angry with the Perquimans coach because they went with their first time all night—the final score was 52 – 0! We were all dejected and down because of losing plus the feeling of dread from losing our President returned.
I really liked our coach even though he could be a hard ass, and that night after the game he surprised us. He was competitive, and I know he was hurting inside from the loss like we were. We were all quiet on the bus feeling like losers when he got on. We all were expecting an ass-chewing but instead, he said, “Guys, remember we won 11 games to get here! You are all winners in my book. Let’s cheer up and celebrate a great season!” On the way back home, we stopped at a restaurant and had a steak dinner as our celebration.
We went back to our homes and routines, but things were never the same after that day. It’s like we had lost our innocence. President Johnson took office. We buried President Kennedy and we moved on. Then came the civil rights movement which was long overdue, the killings of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, and in my mind, that day changed life for all of us.
One week before Hanukkah, my better half asked me two questions I thought I’d never hear.
“Honey, should I put out the Hanukkah lawn decorations this year? Do you think it’s a good idea? I fear it may lead to problems. Who knows if there are any pro-Palestinians or neo-Nazis living in our town. Almost every evening on the news, I see those bastards holding rallies or marches all across Florida. They’re waving Palestinian or Nazi flags. Flags bearing swastikas. It scares me.”
I looked into her brown eyes and without skipping a beat said:
Honey, just do it!
You know, it’s one of my favorite Hanukkah traditions. For eight nights, I love going outside and watching the dreidel spin and those blue and white lights flicker. I get a warm feeling that says, “I’m proud to be a Jew living in a great nation.”
Not putting the decorations on the lawn sends the wrong message. It’s like saying we’re afraid to be Jews. It’s like we’re trying to conceal our identities. When American college kids hide their yamakas, or their chai’s or the Jewish stars they wear on their chests, the antisemites win. Those kids are showing fear. What’s next they’re afraid to go to the Hillel House or to shul. I recall as a kid, when I lived in fear because some bully threatened to beat me up. He threatened to punch me in my head or in my gut. I hid from him. Fear is a dreadful feeling. The anxiety eats you up. Sixty years later, the bitter after taste of fear still lives in my mouth. You know that bullies love cowards and we ain’t cowards.
And you also know that I’m well prepared. I got my .45 Smith and Wesson police special. Yup, the pistol I take to the gun range. The one I keep next to a bunch of ready-to-shoot bullets in my gun case. I’m ready. If anybody messes with our menorah or dreidel, I’ll put the first shot in the air as a warning. If the haters don’t run and I’m in fear of my life, who knows where the next shot goes? They’ll get the message loud and clear. We Jews aren’t taking any of their antisemitic shit.
“Honey, you’ve been putting our four-foot high, blue and white electric menorah and our three-foot high, motorized yellow and green spinning dreidel on our lawn for over 40 years. It’s our tradition. The kids and I cherish that tradition. It’s part of our wonderful life. We can’t let fear take that away from us. Hatred can’t hold us hostage. Fear, like cancer, eats the joy out of life. That’s why Israel has to wipe out Hamas. They don’t want their children to live in fear.
