Lippy Von Lipenshtein
I am on TWA flight 800 from NY to Tel Aviv, via Paris. It is the same flight, years later, that will mysteriously fall out of the sky in pieces after leaving JFK. Some say it was terrorism. Others say it was a mechanical malfunction. The important thing is it did not happen on this day in 1992.
I am flying with a friend with whom I went to elementary school. He has a friend on board as well, from high school. His name is Lippy.
Lippy, or Lip, in more formal times, is the one person who went home for Pesach our year in Israel and brought something back for me, a Mr. Goodbar. I don't know why I asked him for that candy bar, but I think still have the wrapper tucked away in an old scrapbook.
He is a loyal friend, the kind who draws a line in the sand and will never cross that line.
We spent two years in yeshiva together, the first in Mercaz, the second in Skokie. There are things you should know about Lip.
He is the impetus for this series of stories on Air Time. It was his semi-anonymous suggestion a few days ago that led me to write the first post, which led to opening a wave a memories that had not been repressed, but put aside, memories that have begun to flood out since I started writing this series.
He is also the first person I ever saw who could take off his underwear without removing his shorts, an excellent skill to have when you spend as many years as we did in a yeshiva dormitory.
He introduced me to his traditzkys, his word, not mine. Important ones, like always swigging from a Scope bottle as we pulled into Slice of Life on a Saturday night, and spitting it out the window as we pulled into a parking spot.
One day while walking in New York during the week of my Sheva Brochos, we ran into Lip and his girlfriend. I was eating a pickle, and the juice from the pickle shot into his girlfriend's eye. They broke up almost immediately thereafter. Since breaking up, they got back together, got married, and had some kids.
I do not believe I have seen her since the pickle incident.
It was through Lip that I met a cast of character; Mick, Way, and Josh, to name a few. Faig too. But she is an old story, one that he can get into on his blog if he ever writes one.
I am flying with a friend with whom I went to elementary school. He has a friend on board as well, from high school. His name is Lippy.
Lippy, or Lip, in more formal times, is the one person who went home for Pesach our year in Israel and brought something back for me, a Mr. Goodbar. I don't know why I asked him for that candy bar, but I think still have the wrapper tucked away in an old scrapbook.
He is a loyal friend, the kind who draws a line in the sand and will never cross that line.
We spent two years in yeshiva together, the first in Mercaz, the second in Skokie. There are things you should know about Lip.
He is the impetus for this series of stories on Air Time. It was his semi-anonymous suggestion a few days ago that led me to write the first post, which led to opening a wave a memories that had not been repressed, but put aside, memories that have begun to flood out since I started writing this series.
He is also the first person I ever saw who could take off his underwear without removing his shorts, an excellent skill to have when you spend as many years as we did in a yeshiva dormitory.
He introduced me to his traditzkys, his word, not mine. Important ones, like always swigging from a Scope bottle as we pulled into Slice of Life on a Saturday night, and spitting it out the window as we pulled into a parking spot.
One day while walking in New York during the week of my Sheva Brochos, we ran into Lip and his girlfriend. I was eating a pickle, and the juice from the pickle shot into his girlfriend's eye. They broke up almost immediately thereafter. Since breaking up, they got back together, got married, and had some kids.
I do not believe I have seen her since the pickle incident.
It was through Lip that I met a cast of character; Mick, Way, and Josh, to name a few. Faig too. But she is an old story, one that he can get into on his blog if he ever writes one.
posted by Air Time at 9:03 AM
5 Comments:
"Way", we did get that phone message. It was unexpected, we played it 3 times, and we enjoyed. We also took time to remember the stepping on the hand incident. He's almost 9. He got over it.
Did the pickle cause the breakup?
I just couldn't be with a woman who had pickle juice in her eye.
Not my fault. i did not see her eye there when i was eating the pickle.
Excellent, love it! » » »
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