Fourth in a series.
Re: “Locked in, and No One Answered the Phone”
Locked out of my office and with my husband not answering his cell phone, I still thought my sudden, unexpected isolation was no big deal.
After all, the car was in the parking lot, and its doors were open. Later I went inside the car, sat and called. I began to panic. Darkness had settled in, and the holiday of Sukkot had begun.
I knew the prayers had started in my synagogue, and I had missed them. No big deal. I can pray alone and talk to my G-d.
Then my mind went so close to the homeless population around us and in the world. I thought, “Well, I am lucky to have an opportunity to experience what many homeless do. They live in cardboard boxes or lie under the bare sky every day.
I thought of the young children in many countries who grow up living in the streets.
I was luckier. I had a roof. I was in the car, in a closed parking area inside the building. The gate was closed and all was safe.
Anyway my husband was going to come for me.
The worst scenario for me would be that I will sleep in the car tonight.
It was really getting cold, though.
With modern cars everything is electronic. No key, no service to click.
All the windows were down because when I arrived in the morning it was sunny. I left the windows open so fresh air could breeze in.
Now, however, I was not able to pull close the electronically operated windows.
Oh for the good old cars where one could turn the handles and close the windows without turning on the car.
Real dark, cold and lonely.
What will happen at night if I sleep in the car?
My mind was asking many questions while I was reflecting on the children and the elderly homeless population who lie in the streets and on sidewalks every night.
Feeling Their Pain –a Little
This is new for me. What, I wonder, goes through their minds?
How do they deal with all of these emotions day after day?
Oh! My G-d, how do we deal with them!
Why can’t we find a solution to end their miseries?
I was deep in all of these anguishing thoughts when my phone rang.
The sound was beautiful.
My daughter who was calling from Chicago to wish me a happy Sukkot. She had just finished operating on a patient and was heading home.
As I told her where I was, and that I may have to sleep in the car, she laughed.
She promised to try sending an email to her father.
After some minutes my brother called. He asked how I was and why I had not called him. He said my daughter just called him for help.
I told him I did not think it would take so long.
The battery of my cellphone was getting too low, though, so I asked him to go to our home and explain the situation to my husband.
In less than half an hour I heard his car stopping outside and I heard my husband opening the door.
My brother said that as he was pulling into our driveway, my husband was arriving at the same time, and so they came to rescue me.
I was thrilled and relieved to see both of them.
On the way home, I called my daughter to thank her for helping me from such a long distance.
Once home, I rushed into our sukkah, recited my prayers and blessed G-d to for giving me the opportunity to really understand the true meaning of the festival of Sukkot.
By now I have more admiration and understanding towards our homeless population.
Some of them are so nice and courageous. They even wear smiles on their faces.
They talk to others and say nice words, hoping to receive the human warmth that is missing in their lives.
I know deep in their hearts and minds, they are suffering the same fear, anguish and discomfort that I felt only for a few hours on the eve of Sukkot.
Today it is raining, it is autumn and we are approaching winter.
We can take out our winter clothing and call the gas company to turn on our pilot lights.
But how about them, the homeless?
Being stranded was a blessing from G-d because it gave me a chance to gain a deeper understanding of these forgotten, overlooked people.
Dr. Rosemary Hartounian Cohen, who lives in the Fairfax District, received her Ph.D in sociology from the Sorbonne in Paris. She lived in two other countries before moving, with her husband and four children, to Los Angeles in 1984. She has published five books in America. Since 1985, she has operated Atelier de Paris, an international art business, on Robertson Boulevard. Her email address is Rosemary@atelierdeparis.com.
