Shul

I think the Shul held fifty, tops.

In another eight months it would be my turn.

All I had established in four months of Bar-Mitzvah preparation

Was that I could run and write faster than the other guys.

Our Rabbi was a strange guy.

He spoke to us about conversing with the Torah.

Asking questions, discussing possible answers

With the great book. 

Classes were both boring and difficult.

Most of us had Brooklyn accents. 

When we answered the Rabbi’s quizzes

Our responses required translation into English.

Mom and Dad decided I was to be Bar-Mitzvahed

In the far grander Synagogue three blocks away.

I argued it was not fair to our Rabbi... he had done all the work.

I lost the argument.

Mine was a big family and most cousins lived nearby.

250 seats, all filled, as I started my welcoming comments.

“ I am very glad all youz people could come today.

For today I am a fountain pen”.

My Hebrew portion was not very long.

Combining my running and writing speeds

I reached guinness book escape velocity.

Too fast for my language challenged family to catch my 200 errors.

I recall standing on two large phone books

That enabled me to raise my head

Above the lectern 

And assure my audience that I was not a disembodied voice.

After the Bar-Mitzvah came the handshakes and envelopes.

We grossed $2,050, but netted nothing.

From all this I learned that

Coming of age wasn’t much of a prize.