The Man in the Purple Hat

It was Shabbat afternoon, and my host was busy with lunch preparations. I was sitting in the living room riveted to a book I found on the shelf. It was causing me to ponder the deeper meaning of life. Curious George was at the train station with the man in the yellow hat and some lady having a bad beehive hair day (a situation that could easily be solved with a hatchet or a nice tichel [headscarf]). Better yet, where was the chivalry? Why didn’t yellow hat man hide the fiasco beehive under his yellow hat? Sometimes the solution to our problems is right on top of our head.

My amazing contemplations were interrupted by a knock on the door. My host introduced me to three young men from a nearby yeshiva. She went back to her lunch preparations, while I made a swift executive decision to sit on top of Curious George. Why set the yeshiva boys up for potential coveting of this prized yellow picture book? Besides, I saw it first.

Soon the door flew open and a man wearing a purple hat and decked in pink, purple and blue tie dye entered. He whipped his head around and stared at us with the same disgust a person has when looking at a squashed bug – a really big crunchy one.

“Good Shabbos!” chimed the three bright-eyed yeshiva boys.

The man in the purple hat glared at them, marched into the kitchen to Mrs. Purple Hat and whined, “What are they doing here? I thought you agreed to check with me first before inviting people over. I see you are back to your old habits again. You will never learn!”

Mrs. Purple Hat calmly replied, “I’m sorry, dear. There was so much going on. Mrs. Finklestein called late yesterday and asked if the boys could come for lunch. I didn’t think you would mind.”

The man in the purple hat marched back our way and perched himself on the edge of the couch, digging his neon lime green golf shoes into the carpet.

“So just exactly what are your intentions in being here at our house today?” he asked.

This would be the point in the movie when the interrogator shines the bright light on the detainees in order to force a confession.

“Ummm…. well, sir, Shabbat lunch,” Yeshiva Boy #1 offered cheerfully. “We brought cake.” A worthy peace offering in my humble opinion…

“Uh huh…  Why would you stay in a community where you don’t know anybody? Seems fishy to me,” Purple hat man stated, stroking his beard.

Hmmm….maybe Purple hat man has a point. Exactly what were their intentions with my Curious George book?

“The yeshiva gave us the Finkelstein’s number. We are staying with them,” explained Yeshiva Boy #2.

“Oh really… ” Purple hat man smirked. “That seems unlikely to me. All yeshivas are so closed-minded – a real waste of time. They don’t teach people to express themselves and wear colors. I wear colors.”

Nothing like stating the obvious…

“My shirt is blue,” Yeshiva Boy #3 offered.

“I can attest to that,” I said.

“I don’t know about other yeshivas, but ours isn’t like that,” Yeshiva Boy # 2 added.

“Hmmm….. right. Likely story,” Purple Hat Man snapped, sprung off the couch and slammed the door behind him.

“Are you okay?” I asked them. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“I’m so sorry, too, boys…. This is a good lesson about marriage. It takes a lot of work,” sighed Mrs. Purple Hat.

A 9-page diatribe against Purple hat man was forming in my mind. It would be me and him in the ring. Rocky Balboa would coach from the sidelines, “right hook him with Diatribe page 2.” The Chofetz Chaim would run outside the ropes, yelling, “No, don’t do it! Don’t do it!”

“Well,” said, Yeshiva boy #1, “I think there is only one thing we can do.”

“What?” I asked. I was salivating at this point – the lashon hara dancing on the tip of my tongue.

“We are just going to have to sing,” he said. “Come on, guys, let’s do it! A one, and a two, and a three….

A Heavenly glow filled the room as the yeshiva boys’ voices rose up like angels. They belted out niggun after niggun, song after song.

Soon we were all laughing and joyously smiling away.

“I know what …. How about after every song, we take turns giving over a word of Torah….” Yeshiva boy #2 said.

And so we went on for another 30 minutes with the yeshiva boys belting out tunes and each of us giving over a Torah.

Soon the man in the purple hat returned home and apologized. We sat down to a warm, wonderful and happy lunch.

As the yeshiva boys were leaving, I said, “Thanks guys. I learned so much from you. You took a low situation and transformed it to the highest.”

Right there on the spot I retired my boxing gloves. The Chofetz Chaim encouraged me from the sidelines, “Good move, Rocky!”

(Names and few details of this story have been changed in order to protect the whereabouts of my Curious George book. I saw it first!)