Jolly Solly: Guest of Honor
| August 3, 2016
Photo: Nechama Leibler
The day camp was in full swing. Fishel and Faivish had gone away to their grandmother in Miami so things were definitely a little less lively than they’d been before but Moishy Morris and his friends were still having a fine time.
Color war had broken out a while back and the teams were busy preparing banners. Moishy was painting a border with his friends when they heard the sound of raised voices from somewhere nearby. The head counselor was having a heated discussion with an unknown person.
“I’m fed up!” growled a man’s voice sounding awfully familiar to Moishy. “The noise of the boy’s singing carries all the way over to my house. It’s bad for my roses I tell you. They need peace and quiet not this great big racket you keep setting up.”
Moishy groaned to himself. No wonder the voice sounded familiar. It was Mr. Krankowitz! The old man seemed to like nothing better than to complain all day long about everything from the sun being too sunny to the rain being too rainy. And now he’d set his sights on the day camp!
Photo: Nechama Leibler
The head tried to respond politely.
“Sir thank you for bringing this to my attention; but the singing is such an important part of day camp. The boys love it. Please understand that we do try to keep noise generally down to a minimum and nobody’s ever complained about the singing before.”
“Well I’m complaining right now!” retorted Mr. Krankowitz. “I’ve definitely noticed my roses have been looking peaky lately and it’s you people who are to blame. And that’s not to mention the other problem I’ve come about. What about the smells huh?”
“Smells?” asked the head in a puzzled tone.
“Yes smells! You gave the boys hot dogs for dinner the other day and the smells reached all the way to my house. I tell you my pink roses nearly turned white! What’s wrong with dry toast that’s what I want to know? Why when I was a boy…”
Moishy knew from experience that once Mr. Krankowitz got started on his childhood the listener was in for the long haul. Sure enough the head counselor — who had a dozen things waiting for his attention — was forced to hide his impatience and try to listen as politely as possible.
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