Jones the Yid and Jones the Goy

"My wife doesn't understand me Rabbi," whined Goldberg the
pacemaker. "I happen to be in the prime of life and speaking man to
man, I have certain needs. Doesn't the Torah say "man cannot live by
bread alone?"
The Rov nodded understandingly and began to rock gently back and forth
in his chair.
"You know" he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully" our Rabbis teach
us that a person should treat his wife with gentleness. He should
compliment her and make her feel appreciated."
"I beg your pardon Rabbi?"
Not for the first time, the Rov wondered what he was doing in a place
like Llanmorgue.in the Welsh valleys.
"Look, how am I supposed to know what to do do?" he cried, throwing up
his hands. "Am I a sex therapist already? Try feeling her tits a bit.
Go for her G spot or whatever it is people do nowadays!"
"But you don't understand Rabbi" Goldberg the Pacemaker whined. "She
won't even let me near her. She says at her age it's undignified to
shlep all the way to Cardiff just to lie in a pool of dirty
water.
He lowered his voice and glanced anxiously at the door.
"You know, she hasn't been to the ritual bath since the last time she
well&;#8230;..you know."
The Rov peered at Goldberg over his rimless spectacles with just a
touch of curiosity. "I don't wish to be personal Mr. Goldberg, but when
exactly was the last time Mrs. Goldberg ahem, had the painters
in?"
Goldberg the Pacemaker thought for a moment. "Well to be honest, I
couldn't rightly say Rabbi. But I think it was that year when the
mountain collapsed and fell on all those schoolchildren".
Later that day, Goldberg the Pacemaker's wife came in and plonked a
chicken on his desk. Then she sat with her hands crossed on her lap and
looked up at him expectantly.
"Well, is it or isn't it Rabbi?"
The Rov shook his head sadly.
"What do you mean it isn't Kosher?" she snapped. "You always say that!
"How do you know? You haven't even stuck your hand up it's
tookus!"
"I know it isn't Kosher" the Rov explained patiently, "because it's got
a price tag on its leg from Jones the pork."
Mrs Goldberg's face fell. "But Rabbi, Jones the Pork is a nice young
man. Goldberg the Pacemaker's a good husband but he forgets I'm a woman
Rabbi! Once when I slipped on the ice Jones the Pork came out of his
shop and helped me to my feet. He's got such a strong grip. Maybe you
don't understand what I'm talking about Rabbi!.
"Mrs. Goldberg" the Rov said gently. "Jones the Pork may be a very good
man but that's hardly the point. His meat is still&;#8230;.."
"Call me Yentl" she murmured softly, taking his hand in both of hers
and gently stroking his fingers.

The Rov snatched his hand away and got up angrily. "What on earth's
wrong with this place?" he exploded, banging his fist on the table. "Is
everyone completely meshugga? I ought to pack up this minute and leave
for Gateshead!"

"You're shouting at me Rabbi," Mrs. Goldberg whimpered, folding her
arms and looking up at him timidly with her large, oval eyes. Right on
cue, two large tears rolled down her cheeks."
And that was the worst of it. The Rov had a Jewish heart even though he
was a Rov and he couldn't bear it when he hurt peoples' feelings;
especially when they turned on the waterworks. Whenever he lost his
temper, he always ended up feeling guilty about it afterwards and then
there was the hassle of having to go around making amends.
He was the old kind of Rov, the kind who liked pinching little
children's cheeks and giving them sweets on Simchas Torah. Not that
there was much call for cheek pinching in Llanmorgue. There weren't any
children here for one thing. There was Jones the Yid of course, but he
was getting to be almost as tall as the Rov. His mother had let him run
wild and he was growing more like a yok with each passing day.
It was all very well for the Rebbitzin to say they should have stayed
in Stanmore. But who else would take care of the people here and listen
to their problems? No other Rabbi would venture out this far except
maybe a Lubavitcher; and when a man reaches eighty, he generally knows
if he wants to put on tephillin.
The community found him a house; an end terrace on a row of two up two
downs. Houses are easy to come by in Llanmorgue; they give out three
bedroom maisonettes free when you buy a lump of coal.
When the Rov brought up his salary, they sent him for a medical.
Goldberg the Benefit Fraud wheezed a bit as doctors do. He put a
stethoscope to the Rov's chest and whacked his knees with a hammer. He
muttered "oy vey" under his breath a few times as the Rov got dressed
and then wrote him a sick note for the DSS.
That was all that there was to it. It was very simple really. There
were no shul boards or committee meetings. There was no kosher butcher
but Goldberg the Van came down every week from Manchester. There was no
synagogue either. That had been a bingo hall for as long as most people
could remember. But the Rov's house had a small extension and they'd
made it into a passable studyhouse. They'd even dug out an old Torah
scroll and got Jones the Cash in Hand to knock up an ark from a
cupboard and an old curtain rail.
The Rov might almost have been content in a resigned, melancholy sort
of way, if only his congregation didn't keep pestering him with most
intimate details of their personal lives.
Goldberg the Foot and Mouth always came down to Llanmorgue in his
tractor. He strode into the Rov's study like a gust of wind, treading
the Brecon Beacons all over the Rebbetzin's carpet.
"You don't understand Rabbi. For half the year it rains. Then along
comes a beautiful spring day when the sun warms your back and the air
is fragrant with lush, damp grass. The meadows are covered with
bluebells and there isn't a woman for twenty miles; just sheep, sheep
and more sheep, and nobody to judge what's right and wrong. I look up
to heaven and all I see is blue sky and fluffy white clouds t like
spring lambs. It's more than any man can stand. What shall I do
Rabbi?
There were surely some problems to which even God himself had no
answer. How did a Jew come to be a farmer? If wanted to go into farming
he should buy a farm and then sell it at a profit. If he made a good
bargain, he could get married on the proceeds and raise a family But to
live on a farm? To raise sheep and cattle and grow your own food?
Surely that was unnatural?
"You don't understand, Rabbi, you don't understand Rabbi. That's all I
hear from morning till night!" the Rov complained. "The whole town's
meshugga about sex. Geriatrics every one of them and they all think
they're King Solomon!"
"It's quite simple Rabbi" replied Goldberg the Benefit Fraud "they know
they haven't got long to live and that makes them all the more anxious
to bring life into the world".
Goldberg the Benefit Fraud's hand shook slightly as he poured the Rov a
large whisky.
"I've been here a long time Rabbi. In the old days, when you walked
down the street you couldn't breathe for coal dust. There was a real
community then, with a proper shul. We had weddings and barmitsvahs in
those days; even a cheder. But when people got married they moved away.
First Cardiff, then London and Israel. Now we can't even get a decent
turnout for a funeral. It's not their fault Rabbi, they want a Simcha;
a bris, a bit of naches, anything!"
"I know, I know all this, but what's to be done?" demanded the Rov
impatiently.
"What's to be done! What's to be done!" repeated Goldberg the Benefit
Fraud, refilling his own tumbler. "I'm just a doctor. Do you think the
goyim have it any better? In '84 the pickets came to Llanmorgue from
all over the country. Needed half the South Wales Constabulary to keep
them in order. And did it do any good? A goy comes to me; says he's
redundant. I give him a medical. Then I pronounce him sick and send him
to the DSS. Maybe he doesn't starve. But can I give him his job back?
Can I open the coal mines?"

"And what about Jones the Yid?" the Rov asked.

The Jews of Llanmorgue had almost forgotten Gladys's little boy. Gladys
was Mr and Mrs Goldberg's daughter. She had a lazy eye and a
fascination for colliers, and it was this last preference that had led
her into the arms of Jones the Goy and brought little David into the
world.

Jones the Goy was rightly as proud of his Jewish son as any father
might be. Before David was born, he never used to be Jones the
anything. He was merely Taffy Jones who worked down a coal mine.

"Now if I'm Jones the Goy, then that makes my little Davey Jones the
Yid" he reasoned. And since no one could fault his logic, the name
stuck.

"And he's a proper Jewish boyo an' all", he boasted to his mates down
the pub. "even had Goldberg the Snip come from Manchester to cut off
his lid! Shouldn't be surprised if he grows up to be a
businessman!"

Gladys of course, doted on him. When he'd arrived, it was as if someone
had bought her the biggest and most expensive doll in the toyshop.
She'd cradle him in her arms for hours at a time, just looking at him
in wonder marvelling that something so lovely could be hers.

She always wrapped him up nice and warm and when he grew older she
loved dressing him up in little suits. All too quickly, he was ready to
start school.

"Just leave him with me, Miss Goldberg, he'll be fine once you've gone"
the teacher had reassured her. But it broke poor Gladys's heart to
leave him at the gate.

Jones the Goy also did right by his Jewish boy. He paid his maintenance
regular, until he got made redundant and Goldberg the Fraud put him on
the sick. On Saturdays, he took him to the Rugby or they got on a bus
to Swansea and went to Macdonald's. When David went for the "two for
the price of one" offer Jones the Goy was the proudest Dad in the
world.

"That's my Jewish boy" he beamed, clapping David on the shoulder. "You
won't be going down no pit like yer old Dad. You're gonna be a
businessman."

He was a very pretty boy too, with clear, fair skin and delicate,
angelic features. And what with all the pampering and attention, he'd
almost certainly have been bullied at school if nature had made good at
rugby and as selfish and deceitful as most other boys his age.

Then all of a sudden when everyone least expected it, Jones the Yid
turned twelve and three quarters. Springtime had come to Llanmorgue.
The days were getting longer. Flowers grew on the mountainsides where
once there were only coal deposits. There were patches of blue in the
sky and the sun shone through one of them it warmed your back. People
went about their business with a new vigour and purpose. Everyone
seemed to feel a sense of excitement and anticipation.

For the first time in decades, the community something to look forward
to. More than that, something to live for; a future perhaps! Even
Merthyr Tydfil couldn't boast anything like it.

There was going to be a Barmitsvah in Llanmorgue!.

David was sent to the Rov to learn his Haftorah and how to put on
tephillin. The Rebbitzin would come into the study with a glass of
lemon tea and a glass of lemonade and a plate of Kosher biscuits from
Goldberg the Van. Then she'd place am overlarge skullcap carefully on
David's head and stand back in the doorway admiring her handiwork.
Aaaah, she'd sigh, rubbing her hands with satisfaction

Jones the Goy was proud enough to put many a Jewish father to
shame.
"My boyo won't be going in no male voice choir" he boasted. "The
Rabbi's training 'im up to sing like a real Jew. He's going ter be a
businessman!"

David's mother took him to Goldberg the Shmatter in Cardiff to buy a
suit with lots of pockets in it. It was an old, musty shop. As the door
opened a bell rang and an old man in braces came hurrying in from the
little back room.

"Barmitsvah already, kein ein horo! How time flies! It seems only
yesterday I was in Llanmorgue for the circumcision!"

The suit was slightly large, but David would grow into it.

"What'll me mates say if they see me in this get up then?" he grumbled.
But for once his mother was having none of it.

The congregation had clubbed together to buy him a pair of tephillin
for his Barmitsvah and his mother got him a Playstation II on the never
never. Jones the Goy bought him a game of Monopoly.

A real, live Barmitsvah. Who'd have thought it! There hadn't been a
Barmitsvah outside of Cardiff for decades. And who knew? Perhaps this
was just a beginning. Maybe he'd grow up and meet a nice girl somewhere
and &;#8230;&;#8230;.

As the great day dawned, the final preparations were got ready. Extra
supplies were ordered from Goldberg the Van, All day Friday the women
slaved away in kitchens koshering meat and baking cholla.

Everyone was comeing. Goldberg the Benefit Fraud , Goldberg the
Pacemaker, Goldberg the Triple Bypass, Goldberg the Zimmer Frame.
Goldberg the Colostomoy. Goldberg the Foot and Mouth had locked up his
farm and come down to stay with the Rov for Sabbath. Even Goldberg the
Dialysis promised to put in an appearance.

Together with the Rov and David, that still only made nine, but just
before sunset a Volvo Estate hurtled up the valley and screeched to a
halt outside the Rov's house, missing Goldberg the Foot and Mouth's
tractor by inches.

When the congregation came into the studyhouse next morning there was a
stranger leading the service. He was a young man, and he prayed with
energy. He wore a trilby over his black felt skullcap and seemed to
hail from a world where they knew how things were done. He didn't slump
over the lectern and mumble like the Rov. He intoned the words clearly
and as he prayed, he swayed back and forth rhythmically. Every now and
then he pulled at his sideburns and screwed up his face in
concentration like a true professional.

Then finally the great moment came and little David, looking as if
butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, said the blessings over the Torah
and sang the Haftorah haltingly, in an expressionless voice that was
just beginning to break.

Jones the cash in hand had knocked up a partition for the women to sit
behind, which was just as well as most of them were in tears wanted to
have a good grizzle without the men looking at them.

Afterwards they made Kiddush and held the Barmitsvah lunch at the Rov's
house. Then little David made a little speech thanking the Rabbi for
being a guiding light. Then he thanked everyone for coming; especially
his mother and father most of all for supporting him during his
formative years.

"I'll drink to that!" shouted Jones the Goy, raising a glass of Jones
the Fraud's whisky. Everyone stared at him except David's mother, who'd
turned on the waterworks again. .

Later that day they all went back to the studyhouse for the afternoon
service. Afterwards they had challah and shmaltz herring and sang
Sabbath hymns; just like in the old days. But as the twilight deepened,
they began to feel melancholy. It was as if they were asking themselves
"Alright, so Jones the Yid's been barmitsvahd. What happens now? Is
this all there is to it?"

When it was completely dark they said the evening prayers. Then they
recited Havdallah while David held the candle and drank most of the
wine.

It was during the uneasy silence that followed that the stranger
dropped his bombshell.

"I'm taking him with me to London" laying a hand on David's shoulder
and looking the Rov in the face. "There's no future for him in this
place."

Everyone was too stunned to speak. The stranger waited considerately
for the shock to sink in.

"But what about us?" Goldberg the Pacemaker pleaded. "What about
Llanmoregue? If we lose Jones the Yid, we might as well be dead!"

"You can't just think about yourselves" the stranger replied
mercilessly. "What about David? Who will he marry? What chance does he
have of keeping the commandments? In a few weeks he'll have forgotten
everything. In London he'll be with other Jewish boys his own age.
He'll be able to&;#8230;."

"Hold on a moment," David interrupted, looking up at the stranger. "You
mean in London there's other Jewish lads like me?

"You bet there are" said the stranger, looking down at him. "Hundreds
of them; thousands!" In a few weeks he'll forget what he's
leaned.

"And do they play rugby?" David asked eagerly.

"They play football. The schools all have teams, and they play other
Jewish teams in leagues.

"So do they have Macdonald's in London then?"

"There's a Kosher burger bar just opened on Finchley Road" the stranger
said indulgently. "I'll take you there myself!"

"Over my dead body!" a woman's voice shouted. David's mother came out
from behind the partition and stood in front of the stranger, glaring
up at him. David stared back at her sulkily, as if she'd just gone and
ruined a treat he'd been looking forward to.

"He's not going anywhere." She continued "He's staying here with his
mam!" She looked appealingly at the Rov, who looked at the floor as if
in embarrassment.

"Tell him he can't just go and take my boy away like that!"

The Rov looked lifted his eyes and looked at the people around him. He
could almost see the life and hope draining out of them. For some
reason he found himself looking at Goldberg the Foot and Mouth.

"There are surely some questions even heaven has no answer to."

He looked up at the stranger who seemed to be all certainty and
resolution. All of a sudden, he felt very weak and old, and he knew in
his heart that he'd failed his congregation

"When a coalmine shuts, it shuts" he said quietly. "I can't do
miracles."

David's mother stood behind David and put her arms around him
protectively. "Well if he's going I'm coming with him then."

"Come and welcome!" said the stranger. "We'll see if we can't find you
a Jewish husband!"

"Wait a moment" the Rov said "you say you're going to London. You
wouldn't happen to be stopping off at Gateshead on the way?

"Of course!" the stranger replied. "The more the merrier!"

Nobody tried to stop him. What was the point?.

"I'd come with you", Goldberg the benefit fraud said sadly; "only I've
been in Llanmorgue a long time. Someone has to make sure the goyim get
their sickness benefits."

No one else spoke. As the full horror sunk in, they remained rooted to
where they stood and let the life drain out of them. David looked from
one to the other, blinking uncomprehendingly. His mother held on to him
and moaned softly, rocking him gently from side to side as if trying to
lull him to sleep.

Only Jones the Goy was undaunted. "I knew it!" he cried, pumping the
stranger's hand vigorously and bursting with pride. "My boyo's goin' to
London! He's going ter be a businessman!