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a handshake.
"Rabbi?" I asked, expectantly.
"Good morning;' he responded. "Rabbi David Blatt. What
can Ido for you?" With that he outstretched a meaty, friendly hand,
covered in wrinkles and with short, course hairs on the knuckles, the
skin worn to a leathery tenderness with age and piety. Itook his hand
and shook it-it was warm and consoling and felt like a hand that was
built to be shaken.
"I'm Pat Johnson-do you have a few minutes to lend me?"
"Of course. Come in and I'll take you into my office."
§•
Rabbi Blatt's office was clean and tastefully sparse. He had
a dark wooden desk and three comfortable but uncomplicated chairs
around it, and the walls were a pleasant off-white. He had a heavy leath-
er-bound Torah on his desk, next to a simple white mug filled with pens
and a picture of three adorable children in yarmulkes and formal dress,
smiling pleasantly with their hands folded in their laps. The youngest
child looked to be about eight years old, the oldest perhaps thirteen and
having just reached manhood. Blatt was an unfortunate last name, but
at the very least he seemed like a sweet, patient man with simple tastes.
His face was soft and slightly worn, with a full beard and a pair of round
glasses perched on his nose, which seemed to be normal in size. His
cheeks were round and he had a gentle smile on from when Ishook his
hand through to when Isat down at his desk. Rabbi Blatt sat for a while
sorting his mail.
"Are these your children?" Iasked him, not sounding respect-
ful enough.
"Oh yes. The one on the left is Benjamin, the one in the
middle is Isaac and the one on the right is Joshua. He's a little trouble-
maker, that one;' he said, ending with a chuckle.
"I didn't know rabbis could get married or have kids;' I said,
again not exactly as reverent as Ifelt was appropriate.
"Oh yes. In fact, it's expected of us-'Be fruitful and multiply.'
I've been married for thirty years now," again with a hearty chuckle. "In
fact, in two weeks it'll be thirty-one years."
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