My walk to school today passed four synagogues with numbers of people streaming in. I enjoy seeing people dressed up for religious holidays, even if I don’t understand the significance of their clothing (also I think it would be great if fedoras made a fashion comeback). Those entering the smaller Chassidic synagogue wore all black with the men in a bekishe, but outside the other synagogues I saw colorful dresses and sports-coats.
This afternoon a young man in a black suit and a yarmulke stopped me and asked if I were Jewish. I told him sorry I wasn’t, and he said “it was the nose.” It amused me because of a family story about my great-grandfather, named “Yacob,” who with his hooked nose was frequently misidentified as a Jew, to his exasperation. But in our enlightened times, I took it as a compliment.