No, I do not know everyone

I have been told that I talk a lot and I am willing to concede that at times it is true.

I talk a lot after synagogue on Saturday mornings because it is the only time during the week that almost everyone I know is standing around in one place. Plus, most Saturday mornings, we leave the synagogue and it is beautiful and sunny outside. It's normally about 10:45 a.m. so what else should I do? Run home and hide?

I also talk a lot as I walk to and from the infamous mini-market. That is because almost everyone I know lives in my neighbourhood and lots of them are out doing things at the same time I am … so we stop and talk for a few minutes. The sidewalk in front of the mini-market is the unofficial neighbourhood meeting spot. There is some one you know standing there at pretty much every hour of the day.

I talk to the cashiers in the grocery store because that is where I practice my Hebrew. I should probably talk more in the grocery store under the circumstances.

And finally, I talk to the service people who help me with a myriad of things every day and every week. If you see people enough, they become familiar to you – and you to them. Names are inconsequential.

Which brings me to the point of my ranting. One day a few months back, I was sitting having coffee with a friend at my alternative mini-market. It has a few chairs and tables set up at a very busy corner. Great for people watching. She was discussing how I am so busy waving to people that it is difficult to have a conversation with me.

"You know everyone," she said. "No, I don't," I answered with a that's-ridiculous-look on my face. And then came the moment when apparently God or one of his minions was trying to make a point. I hate when that happens – particularly when the point is not to my advantage.

At that moment one of the street cleaners who often sweeps the streets near my house just happened to walk by with his broom and his bucket-on-wheels. These guys sweep all day and Ra'anana is remarkably clean as a result. Word has it that some of them are retired PhD's in maths and sciences from Russia who couldn't find work when they moved here. I have never checked that out. But I love the idea of it.

Anyway, as he walked by with his tools of the trade, he looked up and saw me and yelled in Hebrew "Good morning". I very familiarly waved back and said "the same to you."

"Okay, that's it!," said my friend. "You know the street sweeper?"

"He sweeps my street," I answered. "What I am I supposed to do? Ignore him everyday?"

I guess she thought so. And I also think she thinks I lost that argument.