In my last article, “The Making of a Chocolate Monster” (Purim issue), I briefly described my friend, 89-year-old Zechariah Nahari, and I was asked if I was willing to write a series of articles about interesting Chevron characters, beginning with Zechariah. Tentatively I agreed, and whatever else happens, here is my article about Zechariah.

   I came as a  bachur to the Mir Yeshivah, and then got married here in Eretz Yisrael.

I continued learning in the Mir, while my wife worked for Otzar HaChochma, the world’s largest digital sefarim library, in its beginning stages of amassing and scanning thousands of sefarim.

We then moved to Modi’in Illit, where, with the help of our parents for the down payment, we purchased our first apartment. As is common in this country, we bought “on paper,” paying the contractor in installments as the apartment was built. Meanwhile, we rented down the block. It was an interesting experience watching the progress of the construction of our apartment.

Ahhh, the scent of spring. The weather is getting warmer with plenty of sunshine while the flowers are blooming and the birds are chirping. Pesach is now just a sweet memory, right? Or are you faced with unaffordable credit card bills from all of your Pesach expenses? Did your never-ending expenses include meat, chicken, wine, shmurah matzah, disposable goods, snacks, extra cleaning help, clothing, shoes, and accessories? And don’t forget the afikomen presents and Chol Hamoed outings. Have you thought about how you will pay for the credit card bill that you’ve just recently received?

Is this a yearly occurrence, a continuous cycle you’ve grown accustomed to, where you overspend over a short period of time and then don’t have enough money to pay your bills? Is there a different way to cover your Pesach expenses or, for that matter, any predictable recurrent expense? A sinking fund may be the answer for you.

I love these stories about how people went out of their way to do the mitzvah of returning lost things:

Temima got a phone call about a year after she returned from a trip to Gibraltar. “A stranger called me and said he was in Gibraltar and had found a siddur with my name in it. He wanted my address in order to return it to me. It turns out that the siddur was a small one that I had gotten from someone’s bar mitzvah. I told the man that he needn’t bother, but he insisted that he would not give up the opportunity to do the mitzvah. A few weeks later, the small siddur arrived at my house.”

I have been working for Ahavas Yisrael for over 43 years, counseling hundreds of families and individuals on financial matters. You’d be surprised at what I have found to be one of the biggest wastes of money: It is storage expenses!

Years ago, I was working with an individual on a budget as he was falling short every month, going into heavier debt every year. I discovered that he was paying $200 each month for storage. I asked, “What are you storing in your storage space, and how long have you been paying storage?” He told me he had a few massage tables that he used when he had a massage business 10 years before and that the tables were worth about $3,000. I looked him in the eye and said, “You spent $24,000 for 10 years of storage for something you think you could sell for $3,000.” (That is 600 gallons of gas at $4.00/gallon to fill your car.) The fact is that the tables could maybe fetch $800 to $900, if he is lucky.

To the Shadchan:

 I dated a girl for about half a year, and we finally got engaged. Then Corona hit. With lockdown, no large gatherings were allowed, and my kallah’s mother said, you can’t get married now. The mother is a “party lady” and has been looking forward to her only daughter’s wedding for a long time. My kallah and I said we’ll get married in a backyard with a minyan, but the mother said absolutely not. She told her daughter, “If he loves you, he will wait.” The mother was adamant, and the father went along with her. The grandparents got involved and gave their opinion: no.

It is now two years later. We are planning a wedding in a few months. The mother says that all the guests have to test for Covid before coming. I certainly don’t like that idea. At this point, I am having doubts about the marriage. My kallah is a wonderful person, and we have been through so much together (including a lot of arguments), but I am very concerned about the family and the influence they will have on us. At the beginning I thought they were the perfect family, loving and involved – my own parents are uninvolved in my life – and the siblings are great, etc. But this Covid situation has brought out some very controlling tendencies. I am also disappointed that my kallah didn’t have the backbone to stand up to her parents. Why is she listening to them and not to me?

I could still get out of it, but should I? As I said above, I am conflicted. I’ve put so much time into this relationship and would happily marry the girl – but I’m worried about her crazy family.

My father encouraged us to be handy. He encouraged us to read the instructions and do it ourselves if we could. One of my fond memories of childhood is reaffixing the car rearview mirror after it fell off. Although I did wonder a bit why a rearview mirror was important – after all, people drive forward not backward – I proceeded to reaffix the mirror. I bought the glue, positioned the mirror, and then followed the instructions, holding the freshly glued mirror in place without moving for 40 minutes as I waited for the glue to dry.

From a young age, children develop a fascination with watches. Many a watch is purchased at the dollar store as a prize for young children who are earning their keep. The disadvantage of this purchase is that the watches never work. The advantage, of course, is that the child has no idea how to tell time. The watch, which is worn upside down as often as it is worn right side up, is like a badge of honor. If you ask a kid what time it is, you might get the kind of answer I did when I queried my friend’s three-year-old grandson. Expertly flipping his wrist around, he looked at his watch and said in a worried voice, “It’s 40 cents. I’m late,” and he hurried off. I’m not sure if he was on his way to work or if he just had a play date with the toys in the next room. Either way, time was of the essence.

  When my coworker Haviva Bulka first mentioned that she was housing Baltimore’s new Proposal Gemach, my curiosity was piqued. What in the world is a proposal gemach? Does it make volunteers available to propose for you if you are as shy as Miles Standish? Legend has it that the leader of the Pilgrims wanted to marry Pricilla Mullins but lacked the confidence to propose. Instead, he sent his friend John Alden to pop the question. When John conveyed Miles’ proposal, Pricilla said, “Speak for yourself, John.” They got married and lived happily ever after – John and Pricilla, that is. I soon learned that the Proposal Gemach does nothing of the sort.

Our tradition obligates us to care for our parents until the end of life – personally, if possible, yet if not, then to employ caregivers for their assistance. The assumption is that the issue of providing appropriate care is now resolved. However, as someone who has been involved as a mental heath therapist, care advocate, and sometimes a relative with individuals and families approaching elder care both at home and in facilities, I can say that this is when the real watchdog effort needs to take place.