Dave Finds His Other Tribe

Dave’s “happy place.” At the desk, doing research and corresponding with crime fiction authors.

With our new connections to many more mystery authors, and our focus only on mystery books to collect — setting aside poetry as a business area (although I continued my own interest in it, and Dave went with me to readings by Jewish poets) — Dave let go of the synagogue that had been his 40-year focus in order to talk with, write to, email, and often meet the authors whose books he admired. Every now and then I’d suggest a synagogue we might visit, but Dave turned them down. Goldilocks country: too liberal, too far away, a moldy and unsafe structure, a rabbi he didn’t respect.

At the same time, the local synagogue community “moved away from” Dave, as people with very different Jewish dreams took over leadership and nobody wanted Dave’s seasoned advice or in-depth memory. The remnants of his Jewish life became partly kitchen related, as he examined recipes and requested special meats, meals, and desserts. And partly of course books, as he kept collecting Jewish work, found in used bookstores or at good prices online. The enormous half-finished basement couldn’t shelve all the books any longer, and to my dismay, some had to go into boxes; I chose the early 20th century fiction and the Israeli political biographies to box up, neatly labeled, and made room for more antisemitism (sadly) and Holocaust memoirs (second generation beginning to speak).