Apparently eight is not enough

This past Shabbat we had 70 people over for a little kiddush. It started with a plan to host all the usual suspects -- about 20 people -- and by the time the little event began it had more than tripled in size. Do not be insulted if you weren't there -- trust me, if my husband had seen you Saturday morning, you would have been there.

It was strictly invitation-by-happenstance. There was no well thought out logic to the guest list other than the fact that we liked the people who were there. Of course, as my more socially sophisticated friends will quickly tell you, I like almost everyone. They don't say that kindly; they say it with utter disdain and the only thing that would freak them out more about my "most-people-are-nice" attitude was if they found me on the corner inviting the Arab junk dealers who drive around looking for little treasures in the miscellany that people throw out.

I am not a fan of large gatherings. Given my choice I would never invite more than three people at a time. My husband says that I am the kind of person who wants to have an amazing party, at an amazing venue, with amazing food and entertainment, but I really don't want anyone to come. He's not far off.

The point being that while the apres-shul party was in full swing, I was trying my best to speak to everyone and never had a decent conversation with anyone. However, as the crowd thinned out, I sat down with the late stayers. Among them was this stranger who came with one of our friends. He was originally from Toronto but he was now living in Jerusalem.

Of course I started to grill him for more information. I need to know things and since he was from Toronto, I need his basic deets: where had he lived previously; how long had he been here; what did he do there? Frankly he wasn't that forthcoming -- not that that deters me. However, one of the little nuggets that he finally offered was that he had eight children. He sort of hesitated when he said it.

I'm not sure if he was expecting a gasp or applause, and in another crowd, in another place, that might have been a show-stopping tidbit of information. But as I quickly scanned the dissipating crowd, I realized that there were at least two other adults there who were parents to eight children, one man who had seven and two couples who each had six. And that was just the people I could see standing in my backyard at that precise moment. I could fill a small page with similarly populated families in a 10-block radius without too much effort.

So I turned to him and said: "that's interesting but you are going to have to do much better than that if you want to make a progeny statement in this crowd." He just stared at me.

See? Who can have a decent conversation when there are 70-odd people milling around, eating and saying nice things? Obviously not me.