I’m participating in an interesting show this Sunday—a Kosher Barbeque! Thirty BBQ teams and no pork. I’m salivating already. I asked the organizers if it was in poor taste to bring along our curly-tailed pigs, of which some have recently sprouted wings. She gave us the go-ahead, even before hearing the following story.
Three years ago in Tarrytown
A woman came into my craft show booth, walked directly to a large pig cutting board, stood for a moment, sighed and walked out. Twice more during the day, she repeated the routine.
Near closing time, she came back with her husband and gestured to the pig. The man rolled his eyes. She burst out laughing.
She looked at me and giggled. “I love that pig!” she said. “I’m a rabbi and I keep kosher, but I love that pig!”
They made a sweet picture winding through the closing booths in the sunset: the husband, the rabbi and the kosher pig.
Three years ago in Tarrytown
A woman came into my craft show booth, walked directly to a large pig cutting board, stood for a moment, sighed and walked out. Twice more during the day, she repeated the routine.
Near closing time, she came back with her husband and gestured to the pig. The man rolled his eyes. She burst out laughing.
She looked at me and giggled. “I love that pig!” she said. “I’m a rabbi and I keep kosher, but I love that pig!”
They made a sweet picture winding through the closing booths in the sunset: the husband, the rabbi and the kosher pig.
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