Read That Day the Rabbi Left Town for Free Online

of land, over an acre, we were told.”
    â€œMowing a lawn that size can be quite a chore,” Rabbi Small observed.
    Selig laughed. “Not this lawn; it’s all rock. Oh, there are small patches of earth here and there with low bushes or some grass. He’s got one of those old-fashioned hand lawn mowers for the grassy bits. See, it’s right near the coast—you can see the ocean from our windows in the back—and except for a few yards of sandy beach, the whole area is rock. The road to Boston runs by the front of the house. In fact, there’s a bus stop right at the driveway that leads up to the house, which I figure could be handy if I wanted to go into Boston and not have to worry about finding a place to park. The driveway is pretty steep. See, we’re on a level patch on a hill, and the driveway ends up as a sort of terrace on the side where the entrance to the garage is. It’s all asphalt and I’ll have to keep it clear during the winter, I suppose, because driving up that hill might be tough if there’s snow on the ground. But he’s got a snowblower, so it shouldn’t take long to clear it.”
    â€œDana can’t wait for it to snow so he can try it out,” his wife remarked fondly.
    Rabbi Selig grinned. “Yeah, I do like to fool around with tools and machines.”
    â€œOh, I think I know where the house is,” said Miriam. “It’s right at the boundary between Barnard’s Crossing and Swampscott. There’s a sign there saying that you’re now entering Barnard’s Crossing.”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Selig. “It’s just beyond our, driveway, coming from Boston, but we’re in Barnard’s Crossing. I was told that the sign was put up beyond our driveway because our side is all rock. It was easier to put up the sign beyond us rather than on the actual boundary, where they would have had to blast. See, it’s not the regular Highway Department sign; it’s a billboard put up by the chamber of commerce which tells when the town was founded and then goes on to say that it’s the birthplace of the American navy.”
    â€œAnd there’s a hedge running along the side, isn’t there?” Miriam asked.
    â€œThat’s right. And there’s an electric hedge trimmer to take care of it. Which means what? An hour or two once a week during the summer.”
    â€œThe hedge, that’s the boundary of the property?” asked Miriam.
    â€œIt actually extends a few feet beyond the hedge. Beyond that, the land is level and grassy, which means there is a drop of about twelve feet, almost vertical, opposite the house, which is why the hedge was planted in the first place, I suppose. This terrace by the side of the house has a badminton net strung across it. So I imagine if you ran back after a birdie, you could sustain a nasty fall.”
    Susan Selig, a tall brunette of thirty-four, with hair gathered in a bun at the nape of the neck, was a couple of years older than her husband. When they finished eating, she insisted on helping Miriam with the dishes, and then remained in the kitchen with her so that they could talk more freely than they might in the presence of the men. In the living room the men settled back in their armchairs.
    â€œYou know, I think I’m going to like this congregation,” said Selig.
    â€œDidn’t you like the one you left?”
    â€œOh, I liked it well enough, but I wasn’t really comfortable there. They were an older congregation and …” He hesitated, and then in a more earnest tone, went on, “See, Rabbi, there’s a difference between knowing something by studying it, and knowing it because you’ve grown up in it. My folks weren’t the least bit religious. I mean, they never went to a temple or a synagogue, not even on the High Holidays. And I didn’t even attend a Sunday School. I took a course in the History