Bratislava Tales -- A Poem Depicting My Yeshivah Students
A Satire on the Canterbury Tales
by Leonard H Berman
THE PROLOGUE
When spring presents herself with flowers sweet,
An gone are thoughts of rain, and snow, and sleet.
It’s then a young man’s fancy turns to love,
He bays at the moon or coos like a turtle dove.
In such a time as these the Rabbis know,
That such emotions young men must forgo,
And further focus on the holy book,
To keep them sober, moral and not look
To anything that is not heaven bound,
On such a time as this I will expound.
All Rabbis know this dangerous time of year,
And knowing young men, rightly do they fear.
So as to focus them on heritage,
They take their buchrum on pilgrimage.
T’was upon such a morning in bright May,
At the Clarion, in Cherry Hill where I stay,
Ready to begin my trek at early morn,
That nine young men, looking quite forlorn,
With down cast eyes and shirt tails all undone,
A spring-break “ooman” was not their idea of fun.
The two Rabbonim with them could not cajole,
A smile from them or exuberance in their soul.
For teenage boys, no matter what their faith,
At spring-break would rather cut a swathe,
To Cancun or to splash Daytona’s wave,
And not a pilgrimage to a Rabbi’s grave.
It was good luck for me to come upon,
This band of sorry students who had set on
This trip. So in I fell with this pitiful band,
And thought to pass away the time at hand,
By making notes on this odd assortment,
Their shapes, their thoughts, and overall deportment.
The Travelers
DOVID
There was a young man, Dovid was his name,
Among his peers he had achieved some fame,
His face was oval and his features fine,
His eyes were brown, his nose was aquiline.
His arms were strong, a fast ball he could hurl,
A car he owned, a lure to any girl.
When on the field, the spectators would gape,
And from his tackle, no one could escape,
But when he walked, he lumbered like an ape.
He spoke quite well, his thoughts were never hazy,
But I suspect that he was intellectually lazy,
For he bragged that never did he study,
But he confessed to me his scores were cruddy.
He often spoke of hunting and of work,
His insurance payment he would never shirk,
For he was most responsible of all,
And never would be part of any brawl,
Unless he saw a bully making sport,
Of smaller children then he would comport
Himself from being stoic,
For in truth, his heart was quite heroic.
A leader will he be when all is told,
And I could tell he did respect the old.
MATTI
A tall and quite boychick walk behind,
A more introspective lad you could not find.
He was as quiet as a sleeping mouse,
We did not know when he was in the house.
His hair was dark, his frame was very lean,
The braces on his teeth made his smile gleam.
His face was nice, his eyes as dark as coal,
And on his beardless face there was a mole.
In mythic stories he had good foundation,
Creating tales with great imagination.
He spoke with Bob, reality he’d suspend,
Cause Bob was an imaginary friend.
Soda, candy, pretzels he’ transport,
He sold these things to help with his support.
As an entrepreneur, I’m sure he will find fame,
And I recall that Matti, was his name.
SAUL
A shy young man with freckles and brown hair,
And so near sighted, that I do declare,
He had to walk so very close to me,
And this was just because he could not see.
A sober youth, not given to ribald quips,
And never a cross word would pass his lips.
He wanted to be known as gentle folk,
So he’d pretend he heard no dirty joke,
But sometimes I could tell he’d laugh within,
For on his lips there played a furtive grin.
From conversations I could verify,
That often he couldn’t look you in the eye,
And though we liked him, I’ll tell you this aside,
We thought he might have several things to hide.
To be a scientist surely was his aim,
I’m sure his holograms will bring him lasting fame.
At prayers I think he was the first on call,
For he was the most pious of them all,
And I remember that his name was Saul.
NATE
A slender youth was next with sprightly gait,
Naftali was his name, they called him Nate.
When he laughed his dark eyes shone a gleam,
But his smile revealed an orthodontist’s dream.
Mature with extra wisdom to dispense,
But one denotes a lack of confidence.
In truth his self assessment was not right,
For he was really personable and bright.
Talented with pencil, ink, and pen,
He drew these little cars again, and again, and again.
He was neatly dressed from toe to head,
And showered right before he went to bed.
A cleaner person would be hard to find,
It would be nice to say that of his mind.
He told me he was easily frustrated,
And less school work he always advocated.
All kindness did he show to all G od’s creatures,
He always was respectful to his teachers.
His love of Toyrheh none would ever quench,
Naftali was a well deserving mensch.
NATAN
A bespeckled youth with hazel eyes,
Considered himself to be one of the guys.
But in truth I think it fair to mention,
That from him came a hint of condescension.
He walked and spoke with easy repartee,
But when he talked, his retainer you could see.
His build was slight, his manner meek and mild,
He never did a thing construed as wild,
But there were times I learned he could get tough,
Whenever someone tried to touch his stuff.
A nicer person you could not want to meet,
He thought himself an intellect-elite.
For he excelled in all things scientific,
But in the arts he was not that terrific.
His yichass claimed the upper echelon,
And every one of us called him, Natan.
YISROEL
Another youth in leather jacket clad,
Was slightly sinister, but never really bad.
His hazel eyes danced as a candle’s flame,
We called him Sparky, though Yisroel was his name.
His hair was short and spiked, his body lean,
Sometimes we though he had too much caffeine.
For any rule he did not give a flea,
He had a problem with authority.
Strange sounds he made, at first I thought him mute,
But then I learned that he was quite astute.
For when we spoke of blood, and guts and war,
I clearly saw his interest start to soar.
About great heroes on and on he’d prattle,
Sparky loved the blood and gore of battle.
But as for other learning he had no heart,
Past teachers told him that he wasn’t smart,
And this assessment of him was not true,
For once involved, he always saw thing through.
His manic antics always gave us chills,
He’d dare the Devil just to test his skills.
Where ere he was, there always was upheaval,
But as for me, I did not think him evil.
And even though the truth he’d slightly bend,
I think you could not find a better friend.
DOVI
A tall young man with gray eyes and brown hair,
Upon first glance looked cuddly as a bear.
His skin was white, his frame was heavy set,
Though large I knew he’d never be a threat.
To all G od’s creatures, woman, man, or child,
His voice was ever soft, his manner, mild,
Supportive, gentle, none would he condemn,
That’s why some boys would offer a problem
For him to fix. His thoughtfulness was not a whim,
But he took to heart what others said of him.
And the ranting of some foolish lout,
Would sometimes really stress him out.
When people spoke, he always was attentive,
But crossing him, would make him arguementive.
He loved to learn, though learning didn’t come easy,
Frustration always made his stomach queasy,
So as to overcome this painful sting,
He made himself to be out go-ing.
His easy going manner all acclaim,
The others called him Dovi, that’s his name.
ELI
A very quiet lad was there also,
He was so shy that he was hard to know.
I could not read his mind or guess his aims,
But he certainly did enjoy his video games.
With games and cards he passed away his days,
One could not fathom his inscrutable ways.
His manner throughout the trip was quite serene,
I’m told that he will graduate at sixteen.
In math and science he had little strife.
But the comma he couldn’t use to save his life.
Eli was his name, he couldn’t be any tamer,
He’ll earn his street cred as a master gamer.
GERSHON
A rather swarthy fellow moved our way,
His clothes askew, his hair in disarray.
His face was handsome, dark eyes quite intense,
With teeth a spaced much like a picket fence.
A better friend than he you could not find,
But his true affections went to womankind.
Of course that’s what he said, we could not know,
We saw no girls, and for him none did glow.
He spoke of conquests, but these were in his mind,
Not even in his fantasies were girls inclined.
The tales he told, his peer group all refute,
But there’s still hope, he’s really very cute.
He always ran his fingers through his hair,
And rarely did we find him at his prayer,
Preferring, so he said, to pray alone,
But during Mincha, he was on the phone.
He had a sense of humor and respected,
Those who valued truth and had selected
For their path in life the righteous way,
But as for hypocrites, they would have to pay.
He would not back away from rectitude,
His stubbornness caused grownups a darkened mood.
And though I found his obstinacy rather odd,
I came to know he did believed in G-d.
With principals as lofty as a spire,
Gan Eden I am sure he will acquire.
He yammered constantly as we walked along,
His name was Gershon, but I may be wrong.
CHAIM
A cute and chunky student walked along,
His step was sprightly, on his lips a song.
A jolly fellow whom the boys called Stub,
Respected as a member of this club.
His cheery disposition did impart,
A friendly manner, and a happy heart,
But when competing no one went ahead,
In science fairs, he was a thoroughbred.
No harder working student could there be,
He mastered facts, but abstractions couldn’t see.
He always had on hand a dictionary,
I knew he’d need a full time secretary,
For though his science skills were really hot,
His language skills just were not worth a jot.
He’d nitpick tiny points to raise his grade,
Hoping to increase his accolade.
Occasionally, he’d cry, “It is not fair!”
But getting cross at him was very rare.
He was a very social kind of guy,
And dreamed he’d go to parties on the sly,
But that could never happen while at school,
So when a pretty girl passed, he’d just drool.
His facial tone I’d say was very fair,
With sky-blue eyes and manner debonair.
His leadership was to a high degree,
But he became impatient easily.
In the field of science, he’ll gain fame,
Some called him Chaim, but Robert was his name.
TZVIKI
A bespeckled youth was walking next in line,
He was not tall, but his features were quite fine.
His face was somewhat round, his hair was brown,
His intellect had gained him some renown.
But still I found his manner quite abrupt,
Because he would intrude and interrupt,
And insert himself where he did not belong,
Which seemed to me and others very wrong.
When he first arrived, he’d rat the students out,
Most wanted to just punch him in the snout.
Yet he’d root for the underdog when in the clutch,
Provided the underdog did not bother him much.
He’d ferociously argue his points, claiming merit,
With qualities of a pit bull and a ferret.
The points he made were often a “no brainer,”
He was an Olympic quality complainer.
But when alone, with him the only focus,
He was less annoying than a plague of locust,
Revealing a young man with charm and grace,
Providing you did not get in his face.
He’ll be a good psychologist I surmise,
If he’ll let a patient get in a word edgewise.
The Rabbi called him Tzviki, of that I’m sure,
He came from California, and one thing more,
I wonder if in future years he’ll “make it,”
‘Cause he can dish it out, but can he “take it?”
MATT
A young man skilled in math walked close at hand,
He might as well have been in Lotus-land.
His steady stream of words were erudite,
But analyzing them caused me a fright.
For his thoughts swung like a pendulum,
I thought him mega smart or mega dumb.
With wild ideas that bounced from place to place,
He spoke so quickly, as if in a race.
I looked for logic, but found dross instead,
Perhaps one day he was hit on the head,
And his aphasia caused him to impart,
The certain death of his linguistic art.
Yet he never said a thing thought egotistical,
Except his claim that girls found him irresistible.
But If he doesn’t buff up his physique,
He’ll meet his “bashert” on “Beauty and the Geek.”
When I finally got him to slow his verbal pace,
He claimed he wished to improve the human race,
By offering his cells to cloning handlers,
Enabling them to make more Matthew Sandlers.
He also vowed that when he was fully grown,
He’d create these little Sandlers on his own.
And when his genius does itself unfurl,
He’ll have no trouble wooing any girl.
BARUCH
A little yellow bus pulled next to us,
The young men gathered round and made a fuss,
They would not leave until the last boy came,
And out stepped Boris, but Baruch was his name.
His eyes were bright, he radiated joy,
He did resemble a giant cuddly toy.
Then everyone cheered this student in unison,
As Baruch yelled, “being special is really fun!”
Beneath the helmet that he wore was hair of gold,
He was quite handsome if the truth be told.
He wore a body suite to hide his gut,
Appearing to have girth like Jabba the Hut.
For physical beauty he was really zealous,
But seeing how ripped he was would make others jealous.
So he pretended to be dumb and fat,
I hope he doesn’t go through life like that.
This mocking of himself was not a whim,
He did it before others could do it to him.
His stature could have made him quite precocious,
But people laughed when ere he’d feign ferocious.
A bag upon which all read, “EMT,”
He proudly clutched for everyone to see.
For though he pretended that his brain was numb,
His certification proved he was not dumb.
Beneath the facade was a seriously focused, Jew,
Whom I think no one really knew.
Sensitive and thoughtful to the end,
No one could ever find a more truer friend.
SHIMON
“The Woodman” came in next to last position,
That was his name and his usual condition.
I could not tell, it really didn’t matter,
Because he entertained us with his chatter.
His brown spiked hair was wild as I recall,
His forehead broad, his stature not that tall.
He told us stories and for illustration,
He would incorporate gesticulation.
Also, he’d laugh at words that end in “ation.”
The sound reminding him of past sensation.
His skin was clear, he hadn’t any pimples,
And when he grinned, he had the cutest dimples.
Computer games he thoroughly enjoyed,
He’d score and dance when big things got destroyed.
He’d also dance his dance when in the clutch,
But didn’t dance often cause he didn’t score much.
With grunts and groans this young man just out did,
All others who had truly flipped their lid,
But his “meowing” came right from his id,
He was an onomatopoetic kid!
With theses strange sounds I thought him not that bright,
But as we spoke I found him erudite.
His manic act was pretense, I recall,
In truth, he was the brightest one of all.
His intellect he covered as a rule,
He thought that being was just not cool.
With mannerisms strange and antics odd,
His friends said that he came out of a pod.
At times his comments were a little racy,
But we forgave him ‘cause he was a little spacey.
Those comments we thought rude he’d not forswear,
He murmured them softly so we could not hear.
Or so he thought, but that was just absurd,
He had the deepest voice you’ve ever heard.
The Woodman did not fret on foolish things,
Happily accepting what life brings.
He lived his life in the laid-back mellow zone,
This very easy going kid, Shimon.
JOSH
One fellow, I confess gave me a scare,
He looked as fearsome as a grizzly bear.
His hair and beard were black and in his eyes,
There lurked some mischief, to no one’s great surprise.
His build was solid as a hauling truck,
And he could bluster like an eight point buck.
But when we spoke, I had no sense of dread,
For there was untapped intellect in his head.
His questions were the rapid fire sort,
And he would ask them as if in a court.
So before an answer was begun,
He’d fire off another like a gun.
I think his teachers thought his brain was numb,
But as we talked, I knew he wasn’t dumb.
And found that in most things he was quite able,
Except for when we sat down at a table.
While most considered cutlery the norm,
He reverted to a lower form,
And to the shock of fathers, sisters, mothers,
He cleaned his own plate, and the plates of others.
For style, he’s someone we could not ignore,
His shirts were colorful as a matador.
And from flamboyance he would never shrink,
For it takes a man to wear the color pink.
He was a man, his black belt told the tale,
In life, I do not think he’ll ever fail.
They called him Josh, a leader he will be,
And soon a member of the bourgeoisie.
DAVID
Next to him a slender youth I spy,
When he spoke, he looked you in the eye.
Though slightly shy, he could stand toe too toe,
But usually he’d just go with the flow.
A funny young man, with not much animation,
But filled to the brim with wild imagination.
An art contest he won he’s proud to mention,
And there were many others in contention.
The drawings that he did he would disperse,
Though some I saw I thought a bit perverse.
And his creative writings were often cheered,
Even if the things he wrote were weird.
He did have skills on how to turn a phrase,
And entertained us as we passed our days.
His obligations he would never shirk,
His papers and exams were A plus work.
A secret he could keep, so I was told,
A trusted friend for others to enfold.
His name was David, he had a nice demeanor,
But some would just call him “the little Weiner.”
?????????
But one young man just seemed to have his fill,
For he would appear and disappear at will.
A guitar he played, he was an acoustician,
Yet, I thought he was more an apparition.
He was a New York City kind of dude,
I thought they hired him to serve the food.
His disappearances weren’t very prudent,
I was surprised to learn he was a student.
He was well mannered, never acting crass,
But rarely did he ever come to class.
Seemingly, he did not have ambition,
So “gelt” was wasted on a large tuition.
His future was laid out, nothing inventive,
A future job had robbed him of incentive.
This family business may just bring him fame,
And sadly, I just never got his name.
NATHANIEL
A tall and slender youth with hazel eyes a-gleaming,
Was somewhat set apart, I thought him dreaming.
Lost in some awesome thoughts I would surmise,
But just a ruse to keep from prying eyes,
Especially those of the Rabbinic Pater,
The game boy that they thought a calculator.
And there were times he’d shirk and oft cavort,
But lacking skills in fraud, was always caught.
And when confronted, (for others a disaster),
This one would come up with a valid answer.
And he was bright, with manners quite well-bred,
But he never let his smarts go to his head.
He played the piano forte in grand style,
The audience would fill up in the aisle,
His style precise, his notes were understood,
But at improvising, he wasn’t all that good.
And he was innocent as a new born babe,
Missing off color points when they were made.
Yet he would insist on knowing, bad or good,
And he would blush, the moment he understood.
As a sportsman, musician, and literary fan,
He’ll become the quintessential Renaissance man.
With love of life he was filled to the brim,
A perfect youth, there was no guile in him.
This boy, Nathaniel, frum and yet quite witty,
Dreams of being a tzadick in Monsey City.
THE RABBIS
A portly Rabbi followed, the other, angular,
To say more of them, might be lushon-hara.
And if their foibles were heard on their antenna,
I fear I might be consigned to Gehenna.
Now that I’ve presented each by name,
Their shapes, their manners, and what might bring them fame,
I’ll tell you how we spent our travel time,
By telling tales in prose and some in rhyme.
To recreate these stories is my plan,
And I will repeat them as best I can.
But be aware that these are second hand,
So if I misspeak, please do not reprimand.
The boys assignment was to write interesting stories or poems to entertain. This they did and the entire piece was published in the first year book.
THE PROLOGUE
When spring presents herself with flowers sweet,
An gone are thoughts of rain, and snow, and sleet.
It’s then a young man’s fancy turns to love,
He bays at the moon or coos like a turtle dove.
In such a time as these the Rabbis know,
That such emotions young men must forgo,
And further focus on the holy book,
To keep them sober, moral and not look
To anything that is not heaven bound,
On such a time as this I will expound.
All Rabbis know this dangerous time of year,
And knowing young men, rightly do they fear.
So as to focus them on heritage,
They take their buchrum on pilgrimage.
T’was upon such a morning in bright May,
At the Clarion, in Cherry Hill where I stay,
Ready to begin my trek at early morn,
That nine young men, looking quite forlorn,
With down cast eyes and shirt tails all undone,
A spring-break “ooman” was not their idea of fun.
The two Rabbonim with them could not cajole,
A smile from them or exuberance in their soul.
For teenage boys, no matter what their faith,
At spring-break would rather cut a swathe,
To Cancun or to splash Daytona’s wave,
And not a pilgrimage to a Rabbi’s grave.
It was good luck for me to come upon,
This band of sorry students who had set on
This trip. So in I fell with this pitiful band,
And thought to pass away the time at hand,
By making notes on this odd assortment,
Their shapes, their thoughts, and overall deportment.
The Travelers
DOVID
There was a young man, Dovid was his name,
Among his peers he had achieved some fame,
His face was oval and his features fine,
His eyes were brown, his nose was aquiline.
His arms were strong, a fast ball he could hurl,
A car he owned, a lure to any girl.
When on the field, the spectators would gape,
And from his tackle, no one could escape,
But when he walked, he lumbered like an ape.
He spoke quite well, his thoughts were never hazy,
But I suspect that he was intellectually lazy,
For he bragged that never did he study,
But he confessed to me his scores were cruddy.
He often spoke of hunting and of work,
His insurance payment he would never shirk,
For he was most responsible of all,
And never would be part of any brawl,
Unless he saw a bully making sport,
Of smaller children then he would comport
Himself from being stoic,
For in truth, his heart was quite heroic.
A leader will he be when all is told,
And I could tell he did respect the old.
MATTI
A tall and quite boychick walk behind,
A more introspective lad you could not find.
He was as quiet as a sleeping mouse,
We did not know when he was in the house.
His hair was dark, his frame was very lean,
The braces on his teeth made his smile gleam.
His face was nice, his eyes as dark as coal,
And on his beardless face there was a mole.
In mythic stories he had good foundation,
Creating tales with great imagination.
He spoke with Bob, reality he’d suspend,
Cause Bob was an imaginary friend.
Soda, candy, pretzels he’ transport,
He sold these things to help with his support.
As an entrepreneur, I’m sure he will find fame,
And I recall that Matti, was his name.
SAUL
A shy young man with freckles and brown hair,
And so near sighted, that I do declare,
He had to walk so very close to me,
And this was just because he could not see.
A sober youth, not given to ribald quips,
And never a cross word would pass his lips.
He wanted to be known as gentle folk,
So he’d pretend he heard no dirty joke,
But sometimes I could tell he’d laugh within,
For on his lips there played a furtive grin.
From conversations I could verify,
That often he couldn’t look you in the eye,
And though we liked him, I’ll tell you this aside,
We thought he might have several things to hide.
To be a scientist surely was his aim,
I’m sure his holograms will bring him lasting fame.
At prayers I think he was the first on call,
For he was the most pious of them all,
And I remember that his name was Saul.
NATE
A slender youth was next with sprightly gait,
Naftali was his name, they called him Nate.
When he laughed his dark eyes shone a gleam,
But his smile revealed an orthodontist’s dream.
Mature with extra wisdom to dispense,
But one denotes a lack of confidence.
In truth his self assessment was not right,
For he was really personable and bright.
Talented with pencil, ink, and pen,
He drew these little cars again, and again, and again.
He was neatly dressed from toe to head,
And showered right before he went to bed.
A cleaner person would be hard to find,
It would be nice to say that of his mind.
He told me he was easily frustrated,
And less school work he always advocated.
All kindness did he show to all G od’s creatures,
He always was respectful to his teachers.
His love of Toyrheh none would ever quench,
Naftali was a well deserving mensch.
NATAN
A bespeckled youth with hazel eyes,
Considered himself to be one of the guys.
But in truth I think it fair to mention,
That from him came a hint of condescension.
He walked and spoke with easy repartee,
But when he talked, his retainer you could see.
His build was slight, his manner meek and mild,
He never did a thing construed as wild,
But there were times I learned he could get tough,
Whenever someone tried to touch his stuff.
A nicer person you could not want to meet,
He thought himself an intellect-elite.
For he excelled in all things scientific,
But in the arts he was not that terrific.
His yichass claimed the upper echelon,
And every one of us called him, Natan.
YISROEL
Another youth in leather jacket clad,
Was slightly sinister, but never really bad.
His hazel eyes danced as a candle’s flame,
We called him Sparky, though Yisroel was his name.
His hair was short and spiked, his body lean,
Sometimes we though he had too much caffeine.
For any rule he did not give a flea,
He had a problem with authority.
Strange sounds he made, at first I thought him mute,
But then I learned that he was quite astute.
For when we spoke of blood, and guts and war,
I clearly saw his interest start to soar.
About great heroes on and on he’d prattle,
Sparky loved the blood and gore of battle.
But as for other learning he had no heart,
Past teachers told him that he wasn’t smart,
And this assessment of him was not true,
For once involved, he always saw thing through.
His manic antics always gave us chills,
He’d dare the Devil just to test his skills.
Where ere he was, there always was upheaval,
But as for me, I did not think him evil.
And even though the truth he’d slightly bend,
I think you could not find a better friend.
DOVI
A tall young man with gray eyes and brown hair,
Upon first glance looked cuddly as a bear.
His skin was white, his frame was heavy set,
Though large I knew he’d never be a threat.
To all G od’s creatures, woman, man, or child,
His voice was ever soft, his manner, mild,
Supportive, gentle, none would he condemn,
That’s why some boys would offer a problem
For him to fix. His thoughtfulness was not a whim,
But he took to heart what others said of him.
And the ranting of some foolish lout,
Would sometimes really stress him out.
When people spoke, he always was attentive,
But crossing him, would make him arguementive.
He loved to learn, though learning didn’t come easy,
Frustration always made his stomach queasy,
So as to overcome this painful sting,
He made himself to be out go-ing.
His easy going manner all acclaim,
The others called him Dovi, that’s his name.
ELI
A very quiet lad was there also,
He was so shy that he was hard to know.
I could not read his mind or guess his aims,
But he certainly did enjoy his video games.
With games and cards he passed away his days,
One could not fathom his inscrutable ways.
His manner throughout the trip was quite serene,
I’m told that he will graduate at sixteen.
In math and science he had little strife.
But the comma he couldn’t use to save his life.
Eli was his name, he couldn’t be any tamer,
He’ll earn his street cred as a master gamer.
GERSHON
A rather swarthy fellow moved our way,
His clothes askew, his hair in disarray.
His face was handsome, dark eyes quite intense,
With teeth a spaced much like a picket fence.
A better friend than he you could not find,
But his true affections went to womankind.
Of course that’s what he said, we could not know,
We saw no girls, and for him none did glow.
He spoke of conquests, but these were in his mind,
Not even in his fantasies were girls inclined.
The tales he told, his peer group all refute,
But there’s still hope, he’s really very cute.
He always ran his fingers through his hair,
And rarely did we find him at his prayer,
Preferring, so he said, to pray alone,
But during Mincha, he was on the phone.
He had a sense of humor and respected,
Those who valued truth and had selected
For their path in life the righteous way,
But as for hypocrites, they would have to pay.
He would not back away from rectitude,
His stubbornness caused grownups a darkened mood.
And though I found his obstinacy rather odd,
I came to know he did believed in G-d.
With principals as lofty as a spire,
Gan Eden I am sure he will acquire.
He yammered constantly as we walked along,
His name was Gershon, but I may be wrong.
CHAIM
A cute and chunky student walked along,
His step was sprightly, on his lips a song.
A jolly fellow whom the boys called Stub,
Respected as a member of this club.
His cheery disposition did impart,
A friendly manner, and a happy heart,
But when competing no one went ahead,
In science fairs, he was a thoroughbred.
No harder working student could there be,
He mastered facts, but abstractions couldn’t see.
He always had on hand a dictionary,
I knew he’d need a full time secretary,
For though his science skills were really hot,
His language skills just were not worth a jot.
He’d nitpick tiny points to raise his grade,
Hoping to increase his accolade.
Occasionally, he’d cry, “It is not fair!”
But getting cross at him was very rare.
He was a very social kind of guy,
And dreamed he’d go to parties on the sly,
But that could never happen while at school,
So when a pretty girl passed, he’d just drool.
His facial tone I’d say was very fair,
With sky-blue eyes and manner debonair.
His leadership was to a high degree,
But he became impatient easily.
In the field of science, he’ll gain fame,
Some called him Chaim, but Robert was his name.
TZVIKI
A bespeckled youth was walking next in line,
He was not tall, but his features were quite fine.
His face was somewhat round, his hair was brown,
His intellect had gained him some renown.
But still I found his manner quite abrupt,
Because he would intrude and interrupt,
And insert himself where he did not belong,
Which seemed to me and others very wrong.
When he first arrived, he’d rat the students out,
Most wanted to just punch him in the snout.
Yet he’d root for the underdog when in the clutch,
Provided the underdog did not bother him much.
He’d ferociously argue his points, claiming merit,
With qualities of a pit bull and a ferret.
The points he made were often a “no brainer,”
He was an Olympic quality complainer.
But when alone, with him the only focus,
He was less annoying than a plague of locust,
Revealing a young man with charm and grace,
Providing you did not get in his face.
He’ll be a good psychologist I surmise,
If he’ll let a patient get in a word edgewise.
The Rabbi called him Tzviki, of that I’m sure,
He came from California, and one thing more,
I wonder if in future years he’ll “make it,”
‘Cause he can dish it out, but can he “take it?”
MATT
A young man skilled in math walked close at hand,
He might as well have been in Lotus-land.
His steady stream of words were erudite,
But analyzing them caused me a fright.
For his thoughts swung like a pendulum,
I thought him mega smart or mega dumb.
With wild ideas that bounced from place to place,
He spoke so quickly, as if in a race.
I looked for logic, but found dross instead,
Perhaps one day he was hit on the head,
And his aphasia caused him to impart,
The certain death of his linguistic art.
Yet he never said a thing thought egotistical,
Except his claim that girls found him irresistible.
But If he doesn’t buff up his physique,
He’ll meet his “bashert” on “Beauty and the Geek.”
When I finally got him to slow his verbal pace,
He claimed he wished to improve the human race,
By offering his cells to cloning handlers,
Enabling them to make more Matthew Sandlers.
He also vowed that when he was fully grown,
He’d create these little Sandlers on his own.
And when his genius does itself unfurl,
He’ll have no trouble wooing any girl.
BARUCH
A little yellow bus pulled next to us,
The young men gathered round and made a fuss,
They would not leave until the last boy came,
And out stepped Boris, but Baruch was his name.
His eyes were bright, he radiated joy,
He did resemble a giant cuddly toy.
Then everyone cheered this student in unison,
As Baruch yelled, “being special is really fun!”
Beneath the helmet that he wore was hair of gold,
He was quite handsome if the truth be told.
He wore a body suite to hide his gut,
Appearing to have girth like Jabba the Hut.
For physical beauty he was really zealous,
But seeing how ripped he was would make others jealous.
So he pretended to be dumb and fat,
I hope he doesn’t go through life like that.
This mocking of himself was not a whim,
He did it before others could do it to him.
His stature could have made him quite precocious,
But people laughed when ere he’d feign ferocious.
A bag upon which all read, “EMT,”
He proudly clutched for everyone to see.
For though he pretended that his brain was numb,
His certification proved he was not dumb.
Beneath the facade was a seriously focused, Jew,
Whom I think no one really knew.
Sensitive and thoughtful to the end,
No one could ever find a more truer friend.
SHIMON
“The Woodman” came in next to last position,
That was his name and his usual condition.
I could not tell, it really didn’t matter,
Because he entertained us with his chatter.
His brown spiked hair was wild as I recall,
His forehead broad, his stature not that tall.
He told us stories and for illustration,
He would incorporate gesticulation.
Also, he’d laugh at words that end in “ation.”
The sound reminding him of past sensation.
His skin was clear, he hadn’t any pimples,
And when he grinned, he had the cutest dimples.
Computer games he thoroughly enjoyed,
He’d score and dance when big things got destroyed.
He’d also dance his dance when in the clutch,
But didn’t dance often cause he didn’t score much.
With grunts and groans this young man just out did,
All others who had truly flipped their lid,
But his “meowing” came right from his id,
He was an onomatopoetic kid!
With theses strange sounds I thought him not that bright,
But as we spoke I found him erudite.
His manic act was pretense, I recall,
In truth, he was the brightest one of all.
His intellect he covered as a rule,
He thought that being was just not cool.
With mannerisms strange and antics odd,
His friends said that he came out of a pod.
At times his comments were a little racy,
But we forgave him ‘cause he was a little spacey.
Those comments we thought rude he’d not forswear,
He murmured them softly so we could not hear.
Or so he thought, but that was just absurd,
He had the deepest voice you’ve ever heard.
The Woodman did not fret on foolish things,
Happily accepting what life brings.
He lived his life in the laid-back mellow zone,
This very easy going kid, Shimon.
JOSH
One fellow, I confess gave me a scare,
He looked as fearsome as a grizzly bear.
His hair and beard were black and in his eyes,
There lurked some mischief, to no one’s great surprise.
His build was solid as a hauling truck,
And he could bluster like an eight point buck.
But when we spoke, I had no sense of dread,
For there was untapped intellect in his head.
His questions were the rapid fire sort,
And he would ask them as if in a court.
So before an answer was begun,
He’d fire off another like a gun.
I think his teachers thought his brain was numb,
But as we talked, I knew he wasn’t dumb.
And found that in most things he was quite able,
Except for when we sat down at a table.
While most considered cutlery the norm,
He reverted to a lower form,
And to the shock of fathers, sisters, mothers,
He cleaned his own plate, and the plates of others.
For style, he’s someone we could not ignore,
His shirts were colorful as a matador.
And from flamboyance he would never shrink,
For it takes a man to wear the color pink.
He was a man, his black belt told the tale,
In life, I do not think he’ll ever fail.
They called him Josh, a leader he will be,
And soon a member of the bourgeoisie.
DAVID
Next to him a slender youth I spy,
When he spoke, he looked you in the eye.
Though slightly shy, he could stand toe too toe,
But usually he’d just go with the flow.
A funny young man, with not much animation,
But filled to the brim with wild imagination.
An art contest he won he’s proud to mention,
And there were many others in contention.
The drawings that he did he would disperse,
Though some I saw I thought a bit perverse.
And his creative writings were often cheered,
Even if the things he wrote were weird.
He did have skills on how to turn a phrase,
And entertained us as we passed our days.
His obligations he would never shirk,
His papers and exams were A plus work.
A secret he could keep, so I was told,
A trusted friend for others to enfold.
His name was David, he had a nice demeanor,
But some would just call him “the little Weiner.”
?????????
But one young man just seemed to have his fill,
For he would appear and disappear at will.
A guitar he played, he was an acoustician,
Yet, I thought he was more an apparition.
He was a New York City kind of dude,
I thought they hired him to serve the food.
His disappearances weren’t very prudent,
I was surprised to learn he was a student.
He was well mannered, never acting crass,
But rarely did he ever come to class.
Seemingly, he did not have ambition,
So “gelt” was wasted on a large tuition.
His future was laid out, nothing inventive,
A future job had robbed him of incentive.
This family business may just bring him fame,
And sadly, I just never got his name.
NATHANIEL
A tall and slender youth with hazel eyes a-gleaming,
Was somewhat set apart, I thought him dreaming.
Lost in some awesome thoughts I would surmise,
But just a ruse to keep from prying eyes,
Especially those of the Rabbinic Pater,
The game boy that they thought a calculator.
And there were times he’d shirk and oft cavort,
But lacking skills in fraud, was always caught.
And when confronted, (for others a disaster),
This one would come up with a valid answer.
And he was bright, with manners quite well-bred,
But he never let his smarts go to his head.
He played the piano forte in grand style,
The audience would fill up in the aisle,
His style precise, his notes were understood,
But at improvising, he wasn’t all that good.
And he was innocent as a new born babe,
Missing off color points when they were made.
Yet he would insist on knowing, bad or good,
And he would blush, the moment he understood.
As a sportsman, musician, and literary fan,
He’ll become the quintessential Renaissance man.
With love of life he was filled to the brim,
A perfect youth, there was no guile in him.
This boy, Nathaniel, frum and yet quite witty,
Dreams of being a tzadick in Monsey City.
THE RABBIS
A portly Rabbi followed, the other, angular,
To say more of them, might be lushon-hara.
And if their foibles were heard on their antenna,
I fear I might be consigned to Gehenna.
Now that I’ve presented each by name,
Their shapes, their manners, and what might bring them fame,
I’ll tell you how we spent our travel time,
By telling tales in prose and some in rhyme.
To recreate these stories is my plan,
And I will repeat them as best I can.
But be aware that these are second hand,
So if I misspeak, please do not reprimand.
The boys assignment was to write interesting stories or poems to entertain. This they did and the entire piece was published in the first year book.