A Competitive Advantage

I never shared with my students one advantage
A small retailer had over the BIG store:
It was a truly existential difference
Enjoyed by the quick and bold.

Certainly the British would not emblazon
An arch over Wimbledon with the strategy.
“Knowledge destroyed is not easily replaced.
Remove the sales tag.”

JCPenny, added 1% for freight in figuring cost
On everything in the store.
Freight on a lamp might run 40%.
It did not matter, 1% was sacred.

That lamp in my store,
Across the street from Penny’s,
Where true cost, including freight, was recognized,
Sold for 19% more.

What to do, what to do?
Time to apply the age old
(Ta da!)
“Competitive Advantage”.

Walking through Penny’s lamp display
I simply removed the offending price tags.
Their store employees would
Avoid the unrewarding task of determining manufacturer or price.

Customers, if interested in buying the lamp,
Would have to shlep it to the nearest counter,
Only to find a sales person with no information.
Anticipating the fruitless task, the customer would leave.

This Competitive Advantage was 100% successful.
It had been espoused by a wise old man
Who had originated the brilliant strategy.
He was the owner of the company that made the lamps.

The Library

I believe in Libraries.
Knowing that they will soon be extinct
Does not diminish the safety and peace
That settles over me when I pass through their doors.

All those books, tapes, disks
Available to anyone with a card.
Mine is a remnant,
Sixty plus years of Library visits.

Compared to regular church attendance,
I have the advantage of choosing
From love, hate, diet, exercise, wisdom or comics.
What an incredible idea! Free public Libraries.

In Mora Minnesota the Library devotes its basement
To the needs of folks in search of work.
Computers, literature, contact numbers and workshops.
Its just a resource that will disappear when the Library closes.

We all define CIVILIZATION in a manner
That exposes the best and worst of us.
Without Libraries we will still have civilization,
It just will be a little less civilized.

Katz’s Pastrami

It is not impossible that a better Pastrami exists.
Perhaps in some shetl in Siberia there is a man
Who hand raises cows, one at a time.
That cow is watched over, night and day.

That man is very orthodox,
Reads from his ancient bible everyday.
His recitations conducted in the cows presence.
Are part of the exhaustive requirements for great Pastrami.

Of course that man is a great believer in customs.
In his hamlet of Pastramiowitz all is in order,
And order requires much from a Pastrami maven.
Dancing and appropriate prayers are part of the ritual.

The shetl no longer insists on virgin sacrifices.
It was abolished when 14 year old virgins became extinct.
Still, the weekly baths and kosher diet
Make great demands on the near sacred cow.

I am told, but offer no proof,
That on rare occasions,
Perhaps once every 25 years,
A cow is raised offering better Pastrami than Katz.

Someday I will visit Pastramiowitz
Hoping to confirm or destroy this rumor.
Until such time I will pray for Katz’s continued existence
And bless their Pastrami.

Amen.

Changing Times

Once upon a time,
So the legend goes,
A poor woman, Janet, was brought before a judge.
Where she admitted stealing ten dollars worth of bread.

She lived in a wealthy city
That had many poor .
James, the baker, had pressed charges
Believing his neighborhood was ripe with thieves.

James told the judge,
If Janet was not punished, others would follow.
While agreeing that punishment was called for.
The judge was reluctant to imprison the woman.

He addressed all in his courtroom.
‘If this woman is sent to jail
Her children will be wards of the state.
Instead I cite all in attendance, and fine them each fifty cent”.

“You and I are guilty of arrogance and indifference,
Though neither was committed with foresight.
That this woman, widowed and without resources
Should be faced with her choices, is a crime.

Janet was admonished by the judge for her crime.
He hoped that the the extra $49.50
She had received from the collection would help,
At least until she could get public assistance.

This story is perhaps apocryphal,
But could only be the product of a culture
That holds the poor as creations
Of a lesser god.

A Day of Being Jewish

As advertised, Jacob’s Bar Mitzvah
Started “promptly at 10:30.”
A three-hour affair, in a Reform Temple,
And I “dug it the most”.

Rabbi Lawson a strong baritone
With an engaging personality,
Lead the Hebrew/English congregation
Of 250 people in song and prayer.

A committed Jew with a universal view,
He directed prayers for suffering people everywhere.
His pleas weere sent to God
Along with much praise of Adonai.

True, I’m uncomfortable with the idea
That the Almighty might need his ego bolstered,
But the Temple interior covered my annoyance
By offering light and lightness.

Jacob, the now young man of thirteen,
Recited his haftorah flawlessly,
Combining both knowledge and humor
To a steady, controlled presentation.

His family spent the better part of the service
Smiling, glowing, standing tall.
It may have been Jacob’s day,
But three generations basked in the brilliance.

I will confess that Bar Mitzvah services
Have always struck me
As somewhat superior to a root-canal,
And not much else.

Had someone suggested the ordeal
Would run three hours
I might have taken no-doze or MJ.
But neither were required.
Rarely have I witnessed
A manifestation of love
So empathic, yet without fanfare,
As was present this morning.