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Gary Epstein
And now for something completely different . . .

Chelm R Us–Part II

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The readers of Times of Israel have not yet responded with ideas for modern Chelm  stories, so I will provide one more chance, and offer additional classic and modern examples of Chelmic behavior that have come to my attention or imagination.  But if you want a Part III, I will require some feedback, participation, and ideas. Final warning.

***

Wealth did not exist in Chelm, but some did better than others.  Some folks operated stores, some provided necessary services, there was a small crafts industry, and almost everyone had a small patch of land upon which they could grow things.  But there were also poor people in need.  Some of them, vaguely aware of political currents stirring outside Chelm, concluded that the system in which they occupied the lowest rung was inequitable.

So they went to the Elders of Chelm.

“Elders of Chelm,” they said (for so they called them), “We have very little money.  Therefore, none of the storekeepers sell to us on credit.  They insist on cash that we do not have.  The more wealthy, however, who have plenty of cash, can buy on credit whenever they want.  This is unfair.”

The Elders cogitated.  Then they conferred.  Then the one known as  Schmerel the Wise cleared his throat and announced their decision, “In the interests of fairness and equity, from this day forward, all shopkeepers must extend credit to the poor.”

A Litvak (Lithuanian, known generally as skeptical scoffers) was passing by and heard the decision.  He laughed.  “If all the shopkeepers extend credit to the poor, they will all go bankrupt and become poor themselves.”

“Yes,” responded Schmerel the Wise, “But then they will be able to buy on credit.”

Many descendants of the Elders work in Congress and the Knesset.  God help us.

***

There are a number of conflicting stories as to the eventual demise of Chelm and the dispersal of its population.  Most of them involve fire, and a few of them involve a black cat.

Here’s one:  a cat took up residence on the low, flat roof of Velvel the milkman.  It seems that there was always some spilled or extra dairy products in the vicinity, so it was a target rich environment for the cat.  Velvel tried to chase the cat away, but it always returned.  He tried to trap it, but it was too quick.  He even tried to poison it, but it turned its whiskers up at any tainted food.  Finally, he consulted the Elders.  The Elders were aghast.  It might be possessed by the soul of a deceased beggar who was treated harshly when he came seeking alms and shelter.  It might be a messenger from the evil spirits.  Whatever it was, it was bad luck, and it needed to be disposed of. But not poisoned!  They gave Velvel three days to figure it out.  Being considerably less astute than the cat, he failed, and returned again for advice.

“Cats are afraid of fire,” the Elders told him.  “Start a small fire on the roof, and the cat will leave of its own volition.”  Sure enough, as the fire grew nigh, the cat jumped to the roof of the next house.  Shortly thereafter, Velvel’s family was as homeless as the cat, as his thatched roof caught fire and the house burned down.  And now his neighbor had a problem, which he addressed in the same way.  And then his neighbor.  You see where this is going, right?  The cat waited until the flames were near and then jumped from house to house. Chelm was burned to the ground by the Chelmites.

When all the furor and agitation died down, the newly homeless people of Chelm turned questioning eyes to the Elders.  The Elders cogitated.  Then they conferred.  Then, smugly, they responded as one.  “We told you that the cat was bad luck.”

***

Ah, yes–the mountain.  I teased the story of how all the men in Chelm moved a mountain.  Chelm was crowded and the growth was not planned.  As families grew, so did demand for housing.  First additions to ramshackle cottages; then new homes for new families.  Soon there was no more space on which to build.  The surrounding mountains had to go.  The townsfolk, who were later so nonchalant about fire, were terrified of explosives.  Dynamite might cause avalanches or rockslides.  What to do?  Consult the Elders.

They cogitated, considered, and pronounced:  if all the men of the town combined their physical strength with the power of prayer, they could move mountains.  As the Psalms say, “The mountains skipped like rams.”  Immediately after morning prayers, the men should go and push the mountain.  So they did.

It was a blazing hot Sunday morning.  After an hour of pushing, the men were exhausted, so they took off their hats, jackets, and coats, and lay down for a snooze.  A passing band of thieves saw a bunch of sleeping men, together with a pile of clothing and shoes and decided to steal them.  But they only got a few hundred meters east when they noticed that the clothes were threadbare and smelly, the shoes were worn, the wallets were empty.  Disgusted, they abandoned their haul and left it on the ground.

When the Chelmites awoke, they saw the few hundred meters between the mountain and the pile of clothing where the thieves had dumped it–and they concluded that they had indeed moved the mountain.

But before they could proceed with their building plans, Velvel the milkman saw a cat on his roof.

***

The Hoover Institution reports that the cost of Chelmifornia’s high-speed rail project has risen to $200 million per mile.  According to Cal Matters, the overall cost for the initial 171-mile segment now exceeds the $33 billion estimate for the entire 500-mile system.  The whole thing is likely to be $100 billion over budget, with catastrophic consequences to the State’s economy, especially if, as threatened, federal funds are withheld.

But at least they will be able to buy on credit.

***

Absent an unanticipated deluge of requests accompanying some story suggestions, that will be it for what my biographers will describe as my “inexplicable Chelm interlude.”  Hold your cheers.  I may return with some “Tales of the American Masters,” last seen about 50 years ago.  But more likely, I will continue to ponder the question I ask when I awake and when I go to sleep.  “What is wrong with the world and why can’t we help it understand what is so apparent to us and should be so apparent to them?”  Chelm offers but a momentary escape, if that.

About the Author
Gary Epstein is a retired teacher and lawyer residing in Modi'in, Israel. He was formerly the Head of the Global Corporate and Securities Department of Greenberg Traurig, an international law firm with an office in Tel Aviv, which he founded and of which he was the first Managing Partner. He and his wife Ahuva are blessed with 18 grandchildren, ka"h, all of whom he believes are well above average. [Update: . . . and, ka"h, one great-grandchild.] He currently does nothing. He believes he does it well.