My driver thought for a minute, then pulled out his phone and called a boy from Los Angeles and announced that he had a girl for him

As told to Sandy Eller by Shiya Zeitman

T

he moral of the story is, when you’re the father of a child who’s dating, always carry a picture with you. And be sure to ask everyone you meet if they might know someone suitable, because you just never know who the right shaliach will be.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

A few years ago, I took a trip to the Far East. I’d usually travel to China with my boss, and we would spend Shabbos together, eating in our rooms at Kowloon’s Shangri-La Hotel after minyan was over. But on this particular trip, my boss had to cancel at the last minute, and I went solo. Not wanting to spend Shabbos alone, I arranged to have my seudos next door at Rabbi Netanel Meoded’s Kehilat Zion shul. I found myself seated across from two lovely gentlemen with whom I shared a beautiful meal, spirited conversation, and leibidig zemiros.

Six months later, I headed overseas again, this time to visit my children in Eretz Yisrael. When I landed in Tel Aviv, I chose the biggest, burliest nahag I could find to drive me and all the stuff I shlepped from New York to Yerushalayim. He threw my heavy suitcases on top of his taxi like they weighed nothing. I don’t speak Hebrew, so I expected the ride from Tel Aviv to Yerushalayim to be pretty quiet and uneventful, but I soon discovered that Adi Benatar, my muscular driver, was fluent in English. He told me proudly that he was a favorite at the Mir, taking the bochurim wherever they needed to go, and that he knew them and even their parents quite well.