Families had been decimated. So whom do you socialize with? Neighbors and fellow mispallelim filled the slot

So my parents a”h arrived here at middle age. You know, the age when most people we know start reviewing their retirement plans. They arrived in a new country, which for them meant a new language, customs, and laws. Whatever ability they had to cope with all of this was weighed against their inability to communicate. And they had no friends to ease the way. They arrived with unspeakable horror etched permanently into their souls, memories from which there was no escape. And sleep soaked with horrific nightmares allowed no respite.

Did I mention that they also arrived with a precocious nine-month-old? It behooved them to adapt very quickly.

Life focused almost exclusively on earning a living, paying rent and utilities. Oh, and taking care of the little one, soon to be more than one.

Some stability was finally achieved at a cost of being drained mentally, emotionally, and physically. If they had a day off, they needed to do laundry, shop, and rest. Rest those tired, aching bodies, rest their fingers from constantly clawing and clinging to that slippery precipice of survival in this goldeneh medineh, the United States.

But after a while, a person reaches his limit of playing hermit and self-isolating. Humans, especially Jews, are social animals. We need minyan, friends, family at simchahs, and yes, to share a l’chayim, a teller cholent ihn a shtickel hayring.

Jewish life would grind to a halt without that person-to-person interaction. You know, the friends with whom we share a tish in shul, the ones whose hands we grip when we dance and whose krechtz falls on listening ears and a caring heart.

Families had been decimated. So whom do you socialize with? Neighbors and fellow mispallelim filled the slot. The chance came when the long Shabbosim finally came around.