The Noble Coffee that Was

I’ve been debating whether or not to tell this story, but I’ve decided its something I must share.

After a struggle trying to decide what to have for dinner the other night, I settled on frozen steak from the kosher store on Amsterdam.  As I ate this perfect meal of beef and potatoes, I got a call from the team.  They wanted to go to the Village.

As it neared time for the shuttle, I stopped by the library for warmth.  I noticed the random café there was open, so I went to buy a coffee.  The lady told me regular coffee cost a dollar, whereas flavored cost $1.10.  From behind the cashier, she could not see the two urns, so I asked her how she knew what people were buying.  She said she only knew what they told her…

After pouring myself a regular cup and filing it with two packs of sugar and some whole milk (instead of the skim, which was also available), I moved the perilously full cup to the register.  My phone rang at the same time I reached for my wallet, so I used each hand to remove them both from my pockets.  Somehow, in the chaos, the coffee cup exploded.

  Light brown coffee spilled over the counter, into the napkin dispenser, under the register.  A small coffee lake formed at my feet.   All in a matter of seconds.

As I rushed to help the lady clean up the mess, I worried about missing the shuttle.  Subways alone are boring.  We worked together to contain the flood and I sheepishly asked her for a free refill, to which she agreed.  

My new cup in hand, I boarded the shuttle and sat down to enjoy my hard earned drink.  As I took my first sip, I smelled the milk and realized I had eaten meat not 45 minutes before.  I suddenly knew why the first cup committed suicide.  It was to save me from eating milk after meat.  

I didn’t want to sit with a full cup of coffee the whole way down to Stern, so I stood up and asked the full shuttle if anyone wanted some coffee.  A girl in the back asked if it was caffeinated, which I thought was kind of a dumb question.  “Very,” I said, and turned around to offer the drink to the driver.  He looked at me as if I was offering him a bribe or something, so I changed my offer to, “Would you at least throw it out.”

He did, and my ride down was uneventful.  The events to follow have their own tale to tell.  But when I think back on that night, I can’t help but to reflect on that poor cup that gave its life to better my own.  

An End and a Beginning

I’d like to take a step aside (maybe forever) from my German recollections and tell everyone about two things that have come to my attention.  The first is the end of an era –Dougie’s on 72 street has closed.  I would have thought YU orders alone could have kept the place open, but it seems hungry YUers were not enough.  

Not to worry though, the chain still has a presence in Manhattan.  There is a Dougie’s Express at 74 W. 47th Street.  I never went there often, but every once in a while I crave their pastrami burger.  It’s good to know I can still get one in the city.

I would also like to share with everyone a book my friend Elan Mosbacher just published.  Here is the official blurb:


Sticking to Israel: Israeli Society Through Bumper Stickers is a coffee table book with photographs of hundreds of political bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters, complemented by translations and related pictures. The book shares many opinions that the media rarely addresses including conflicting, politically incorrect, and humorous political and religious assertions. The book portrays Zionistic, anti-Zionistic, right wing, left wing, political party, politician specific, army, religious, Nachman, Chabad, and miscellaneous themes of bumper stickers, graffiti, and posters from around the country.  Arabic and Chinese bumper stickers from Israel are also included in the book.


And here are some rave reviews:

"Sticking to Israel presents to an English-speaking audience a unique look at Israeli political culture on the ground. The book is an invaluable source of material for understanding the quotidian experience of Israelis -- how politics comes to them on the street, and how they go about expressing their views in the visual marketplace of everyday life. And besides, the images collected here are a fun reminder of the vibrancy  -- and outspokenness -- of Israeli democracy."
Dr. Eric Zakim,
Asst. Professor
of Hebrew Language and Culture
At the University of Maryland.


"Sticking to Israel is an unvarnished look at life on the ground in Israel today and, while its wisdom may derive only from bumper stickers, it's helpful especially to Americans who have a hard time taking the pulse of Israel."
                              -Stephen J. Dubner,
New York Times Journalist and
Co-Author of Freakonomics

Finally, here is an article about the book.  I’m sure Elan would be interested to hear what everyone thinks about his project.  Feel free to comment about it.

Germany III: Sachsenhousen

Since Blogger only seems to like one photo per post, I've decided to sum up my German recollections in one photo or less (per recollection).

This shot sums up our trip to the Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp more than any other photograph. Noah, whom I called Noaher, took a longer path than the rest of the group as we walked through this part of the camp. He appears isolated between two white voids, the first is the snow and above him is the sky.

The setting and his contemplative posture reflects how I felt that day. The terror that occurred at Sachsenhousen made me feel isolated. At the same time, I felt compelled to think hard about what it meant to be there.

I thought about how many people did not approve of a YU trip to Germany. Many people wouldn't even buy a German car…As I walked through the camp, I came to the realization that the best way to stick it to the Nazi's is to go to Germany and live as a Jew.

At first, I thought it would be hard to travel by train on German soil because of what our ancestors had to endure on German trains. But when the group davened on the train, out loud and in the open, I felt a kind of awe. Here was a group of young, Jewish students, praying out in the open in Germany. What would a Holocaust victim have said?

These thoughts reached a crescendo the day after our visit to the concentration camp. We went on a Thursday, so the next night was Shabbat. We went from the depths of tragedy to the joy of all that it means to be a Jew in just a few short hours. We openly prayed, sang and danced on the same ground where our grand and great grandparents feared for their lives.

This juxtaposition, of tragic history and hopeful present (of snowshoeing and remembering) epitomized my experience in Germany. We traveled to learn about the country's terrible past, but with an eye to its future. This made the moment in between, the present, all the more meaningful.