F 1 D 0 -- 02 07 07 at 13 00 Bagels. I was given a half dozen bagels yesterday or the day before. Ann bought them, hoping for a fresh bagel treat, only to find when she started into them that they really upset her stomach, and so I got the rest of them. They were from the Great Canadian Bagel Factory. They are a franchise, where the operators pay a great deal to learn how to make a bagel, and how to run a breakfast restaurant. But since most of these folks, and those who work inside, don't really have a clue what a bagel should taste like, they don't usually get it right. Interestingly, I thought they did okay this time around. I had a bagel yesterday, and should have written into f1d0 right then. I had such a strong daylight dream, I wish I had a moment. I was entirely awash with the feeling I got from my first bagel. Oh, I can hear you laughing, but this was very serious for me. And interestingly, it isn't the first round bagel shaped thing I recalled, but the first true wonderful bagel experience. I wish I could recall whether I was four, six, eight or ten years old. But I can remember the day of the week. It was a Sunday. It was in the morning. Dad took me to one of the Linitzer Breakfast Meetings. These happened every week, or every month. He went every never, but figured he'd bring me along, just to see what it was like. We didn't talk about it really. Mom just asked if I wanted to go out and have breakfast with my father. "Sure." Well, I had better rush and get dressed. My younger brothers didn't get invited to come with me. I cannot remember whether there were one or two of them at the time. This just in. I was eight or less. We were living in downtown Toronto, on Beaconsfield Avenue, near Queen Street. We moved to North York during the year I was in grade three, so it must have been before then. Dad was wearing a powder green suit jacket, in a so-called modern styling. It was fine with his beige pants. Everyone else was wearing a suit too. I cannot recall if I was dressed in a suit or not. As we went in, there was a wooden box with skull caps. We were to take one and wear it. Those who did this all of the time had their own, perhaps knitted one. Others knew enough to bring some kind of hair clip, which kept it from flying loose. I remember there were a lot of uncles there. I remember Uncle Louis, the one who recently lost my Auntie Lily. I remember Uncle Julie. I remember Uncle Carl. Lily is my father's sister, and so Louis Kozlov is my uncle by marriage. Julius is my father's brother, born exactly a year after him. Or was it a year before? Carl Kellen is married to Celia, my mother's sister. As I try to bring this into a journal, it only now occurs to me that there were no women at this event. I think we arrived shortly after 1000am, which was just a bit late. The talking was already going on. Someone I don't know personally was presiding. He was saying a lot of things which I found really boring, and this went on for an eternity. "...And we want to extend our condolences to Brother and Sister Borovoy. Daniel had an accident at work, and is still in a coma. He is in the intensive care at Mount Sinai hospital. The family requests that we keep our cards and greetings for after Daniel is back at home again. We wish them all the best. "Also at Mount Sinai is Judith Silver, doing fine after delivering Saul Moshe Silver, a big nine pounds, two ounces. The bris is tomorrow evening at Brother Silver's home. Feel free to bring something eat. You don't keep glatt kosher, do you, Jack?" "We eat everything!" "Good. So come out, bring something to share, and help Saul Silver know he is part of a big loving family. "We are happy and sad for Jack and Esther Cohen. Their son Daniel has moved with his fiancee to live in a kibbutz in Israel, and has plans to work in the Israeli Army, if they take him. "If you are downtown, drop in on Sherry Bloom. She is still on her back, and I hear she's bored. Go over and say hello. Brother Bloom tells me another two weeks, maybe a month more. Sometimes the best charity is your time. "Last year, at this time, we raised 1,413 dollars for the United Jewish Appeal. We are looking for volunteers to sell tickets, and to help out at the raffle. Join with us and help us raise money. It is a lot of fun, and a great way to meet others. ..." These announcements were the purpose of this meeting, and they felt like they went on forever. But eventually, it was over, and I was invited into another room, where there were boxes. They were about the same size as the ones from a donut place, but filled with bagels. But I'd never had them just like this before, that I could recall. They were hot to the touch. Not very hot, mind you. The butter seemed special too. It was not soft, like ours at home, but was cold, and yet, still manageable. An uncle said, "Here, let me give you a hand with that." And he cut my bagel in half, and cut a thin slice of butter, like a thin slice of cheese. "Is that too much?" he asked. It was fine. It was perfect, actually. But there was more. That happened to be the first time I had experienced smoked salmon with cream cheese. But it wasn't as etherial as the perfect bagels, as I'd finished the poppy seed bagel with a slice of butter before I considered anything further. There was a lot of selection in the cream cheese department. Someone made little signs. "No Salt." "10%" "2%" "skim". I could not tell the difference between the 10% and the 2%. I found the skim tasted fine, but was crumbly and would not stick to the bagel. I didn't like the No Salt one at all. Someone must have heard my comment. "If the doctor says you have to give up salt, you don't have to give up bagels and cream cheese." He pointed to his chest, and tapped his heart with his finger. I think this was my uncle Jack Silverman. All of these, and more thoughts and feelings washed over me having a Great Canadian Bagel, with 'everything' (poppy, sesame, burnt garlic) and butter. The hairs on my arms stood up, I felt so close. I remembered the smell of the breath of the family members at that event. I didn't spend much time with my dad, actually, but managed circulating and meeting with everyone else. Many of them have passed away. My dad never again went to one of them. So neither did I. That was too bad, as I really enjoyed that meeting, all in all. That's all I know.