I like to think I’m a nice person.

In fact, sometimes I do things just so that I will be further convinced of my own niceness. For example, I call my grandmother every week before Shabbos. If it makes her happy, who cares if I don’t really want to be peppered with a million questions, don’t really enjoy it, and am only doing it because when she says, “Thank you so much for calling, dear,” at the end, it makes me feel like what I did was really very nice indeed?

Once my class went on a field trip and it was freezing. My poor friend Shira had forgotten her gloves at home and was particularly miserable. I pulled off my own gloves and gave them to her. Her resulting relief and, “Oh my gosh, Chayala, you’re SO nice!” made me feel really good, even if I did have to stick my numb hands in my pockets and within minutes I was feeling as miserable as she had been feeling just a few minutes earlier. Actually, I remember feeling a bit stuck. A few of our friends had chimed in saying, “Wow, you’re such a good friend.” After they sang my praises, I felt like I couldn’t ask for my gloves back. So maybe that means I’m not so nice after all?

One other thing I’ll tell you about myself is that I have quite a sense of humor. I’m not the kind of person who uses it to belittle people or hurt others, no, no, nothing like that. Really, didn’t you hear me? I said I was NICE! I just like puns and quips and stuff like that. But another thing that I find funny is slapstick comedy. You know, like when someone trips and falls, or stands on the end of a rake only to have it flip up and twang her on the nose or something.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a standing argument with my brother, Shmuly. We were once on a family vacation and we were all going to rent bikes and ride a trail. Our know-it-all older sister, Brachi, said to us kids, “Now, I’m the oldest and the best biker, so you all follow me.” We took off, following her obediently, but as she picked up speed, she slid into a pile of mud and went flying off her bike. Everyone scrambled off their bikes to help her, but she wasn’t hurt, just embarrassed, and I could not stop laughing my head off. Maybe it sounds mean, but it really was hilarious. Hello? You should have heard how she had gone on and on about how she was the best biker!

Later, my brother Shmuly said to me, “Laughing was a mean thing to do.”

Honestly, I didn’t really understand why. It wasn’t like Brachi was hurt. She wasn’t. And after she got over the embarrassment, she thought it was pretty funny too! So what was the big deal?