I was daydreaming the other day and a song popped into my head, thankfully it was not a song from Cocomelon. It was the words to one of Abie Rotenberg’s wonderful songs, an oldie but a goodie: The Shadchan. I remember listening to it when I was nine or ten, not fully knowing what it meant. My parents owned an ’87 Buick, not a ’67 Chevy. But I pictured a younger version of my father driving down long mountain roads (I only knew from going up to the country back then) and then approaching the George Washington Bridge toll booths. I imagined my father going to my maternal grandparents’ apartment, taking my mother out on a date. Only when I was older did I fully understand the song and how it came full circle. Baruch Hashem, I’ve been lucky to live this long to see how everything is cyclical.
There’s one line in that song that always affected me, and then when I was in the parsha, I was able to relate to it. And it’s not the line most would think it is. It isn’t, “But the shadchan said, this time it will be different... But the family’s nice, oh, believe me, this one’s special...” It’s the line, “The man inside the tollbooth said, ‘Oh, it’s you again.’ I felt like turning back right then and there...” Such a weird line to get hung up on, right? I know the song is fictitious, but based on real life.
We may ride the same bus back and forth to work — we become familiar with the driver. Greetings are exchanged daily. He or she notices when you’re not riding on certain days. “Sick? Vacation?” It’s someone that cares. Even the cashier at Wasserman knows my phone number without me having to recite it after she rings up my packages, and then she asks about my children and father. For a few seconds I forget about responsibilities, appointments, worries. And yes, I really do believe that when there were toll collectors, back in the olden days, they would see familiar faces daily or weekly.
When I used to travel down to Baltimore every week when my sister was sick, I would stop for gas at the last rest area on the Turnpike before entering Delaware. And yes, after gassing up, I would use the restroom and buy a latte. One week a barista recited my order before I had a chance to say it. I was surprised. But the barista told me that he had seen me every week for a few months, knew my order, and wondered if I was traveling for work or pleasure. (It’s not a fancy order, but it’s temperature specific: 120 degrees, so it’s hot, but not hot enough to burn my tongue or roof of my mouth.) He said some kind words and sent me on my way, and I was able to think of something else besides my sister for a few minutes afterwards.
What am I trying to say? What am I blathering on and on and on about? Words count! Even from strangers that we encounter for seconds. I’ve always said it. And that fictitious toll booth operator has lived in my brain rent-free for decades! The single fellow in the song felt so hurt and more dejected after the comment, he wanted to forget the whole thing and drive home. He was tired of going time and time again with the same hope, only to be left single when all was said and done. It takes a lot of bravery and chutzpah — but in a good way (yes, you can be chutzpadik in a good way) — to keep on going to shadchanim, keep on showing up or getting ready for dates, and then actually going out with a mystery person hoping this is your person.
When I hear how some singles are spoken to or how they are treated by people in the street like you and me, it infuriates me and breaks my heart at the same time. They are living their everyday life when someone decides to give unsolicited advice or make a joke at their expense. Recently a single fellow was telling me that he was in a flower store picking up a bouquet for his mother and automatically the florist commented how his wife would love the flowers. When he told the florist he was single and the flowers were for his mother, he said the florist rolled her eyes and said, “Once you stop buying flowers for Mommy and start sending them to the ladies, you’ll get snatched up.” It doesn’t matter why he was buying his mother flowers (her birthday), why make such an unnecessary comment? Did the florist think he would start buying flowers for all the gals around town from her? Was she drumming up business? No, all she did was push the fellow further down the Tunnel of Darkness he was already in. No need to point out the obvious! (Tunnel of Darkness were his words. Oyyyyy. My heart broke.)
What about the fellow who told me he was admonished in a shul he used to attend? He was told something to the effect of when he davens shmoneh esrei, it’s too loud. He was told that his davening interferes with another man’s davening and he was asked to daven more quietly. The fellow told me he was dumbfounded by this and when he apologized (because he couldn’t think of what else to do on the spot) the other man said that he should take others into account more and not just think of himself — maybe that would help him with dating too. It was advice for all parts of life. Seriously? The single said he was too stunned to comment. One issue had nothing to do with another. It was not “a life lesson.” And he never returned to that shul after being doubly insulted.
And then we have the lovely young woman who picks up the newspaper at the same stand every morning while she walks to work. One day the owner told her that she should stop bothering with world events and the news and then she may find a man. She told me that the newsstand owner thought he was helping, but he’s 80 and it’s not 1950 anymore. Girls can be smart and married too. “Men actually like when I can pronounce large words that I read from the paper,” is what she said she replied. Good for her.
You never know what type of day someone is having when you decide to give unsolicited advice. You think you’re helping, but you may have just pushed them further down that “Tunnel of Darkness” they may already be in, like that fellow in the flower store said.
I don’t think the man in shul meant to insult the single fellow, but there was no need to throw in that barbed comment about thinking of others and then he may get married. He should have left it at, “Can you please daven quieter.” Maybe he thought he would connect the dots and solve two problems at once, but one was none of his business or his problem — and if you were concentrating on your own tefilos and kavanah, you wouldn’t care how loud someone else is davening!
As I tell everyone, the words that you use reflect who you are and affect those you direct them to. We all have to be careful and not careless. We don’t only have to be careful of not speaking lashon hara, but of offending people (everyone, not just singles — but this is a singles column, so it’s what I focus on). Some singles are more sensitive about their situation than others. And their singlehood is not something they want brought up in a casual conversation, unless you have a match in mind.
I’m finding recently that many singles who are “fine” with their singlehood begin to have mixed emotions once their nieces and nephews become a chasan or kallah. The little cuties they held as babies, babysat for, took out for pizza have now passed them in life. This is what I have been told. They still have hope, but they feel a little kicked in the gut. How many times have I heard, “I never thought I’d be single at my niece’s wedding. I’m now that aunt.” I always respond, “Yes, you’re still the cool aunt that can check out the single men at the wedding and do as you please for as long as you want because you’re a mature adult.” I know what they are referring to by the word “that,” but you can’t let them dwell on it.
From Abie Rotenberg’s song and the fake toll booth operator, we can all learn a lesson: We should build others up, and because we don’t know what may hurt someone, don’t make a joke about being single or being lucky, and don’t offer advice. I believe in trying to build people up and making them feel good. Once they feel good about themselves, they have more to offer and are more appealing to others (singles).
Hatzlachah to you all!
Goldy Krantz is an LMSW and a lifelong Queens resident, guest lecturer, and author of the shidduch dating book, The Best of My Worst and children’s book Where Has Zaidy Gone?
She can be contacted at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..