Danny Bental is the second funniest gentleman I know.
Puckish. Prank-prone. Giddy at every unexpected time.
This is supposed to be serious? Really?
We used to pray in the sane synagogue, but six years ago we diverged.
Now we only pray together on the High Holidays when he travels across town to assist my community.
By himself, Danny, a scholar of the Torah, converts the solemnity of Yom Kippur, when we fast for 26 hours, into Comedy Central on location. He cracks a line, and we both giggle like schoolboys, at the darnedest junctures.
A native Israeli who moved here in the late 1970s, these days he makes a living preparing boys for their bar mitzvahs – and also as an author of the new novel “Soul Custody,”
I know it’s available there because Danny’s daily joke emails always include this link.
I met Danny 22 years ago when he was in the printing trade, and for almost as long as emails have existed, he has sent me jokes on a daily basis.
No one I have known loves laughing more than Danny Bental.
Like many who have such a reputation, Danny also possesses an extraordinarily tender dimension.
He has needed it in recent months as his beloved Sally became gripped more tightly by the hour with the ravages of cancer.
The last time we saw them together was six weeks ago for Shabbos dinner at the home of mutual friends.
Externally appearing normal, Sally barely was able to convey her by-now soft tones. Your ear practically had to touch her face to hear.
From 30 years of marriage, Danny had perfected the art of husbandry. He was solicitous of her in a nuanced way, not babying her but caring that every bone in her body was resting comfortably.
Somehow, she navigated the 10-step stairway from the town house living room to the dining room, and back.
When Danny seated her in a wheelchair for the push home, it was the last time I would see them together.
The end creeped scarily near early last week when 72-year-old Sally was rushed to Kaiser.
Diane visited her, but only technically. Sally slept right through the stream of visitors.
Danny began sending several-times-a-day updates on changes in Sally after she was sent back home because no more could be done.
We waited. There was no hope.
Jubilantly, after last Shabbos, Danny reported that at noon time, when he and friends were around her bed, visiting, Sally suddenly emerged from her coma.
Sitting up, she said, “Hi, everybody,” and all of them began singing.
Last night at 9:31, Danny sent a final cryptic message:
“After a long struggle, Sally is at her final rest.”
Grieving today, at the lunch hour, while announcing her funeral tomorrow at Mt. Sinai in the Simi Valley, he shared a closing memory of Sally that bolsters his sapped strength:
“Sitting next to my wife’s hospital bed situated in our living room, I comforted her.
“Being in a coma, her eyes were closed and her labored breathing filled the room. My voice soft, I stroked her hair and assured her that everything would be just fine. I promised her that I would love her forever, and that I’’ continue to take good care of our family.
“All at once, she opened her eyes wide and our eyes met. Hers were crystal clear. I smiled and once again assured her that everything would be just fine.
“Fragile and very tired, there was a hint of smile on her face as she took her last breath and rested her head in my hands.”
