I ran to the hospital basement to see my friend Jay. He is a forty-something year old African American fellow who works in the nourishment center. We have become good buddies and he gives me free coffee whenever I drop by to say hello. “You look extra-tired today doc. Long night?” I smile and nod, and mutter that I will stop by later to catch up with him about his recent schedule change and why his DVD player is missing. “Ok, doc, grab a big cup today and I’ll see you later for a refill. The usual, right? Black without sugar and milk,” he smiles proudly as he hands me the largest cup he has.
I step outside the room with my coffee in one hand and the OR schedule in the other. I place the coffee down and pull out my pocket-size surgery book and try to read about the surgery when I hear a voice behind me.
“Do you have lunch today?”
I turn around and find myself staring into the face of a middle-aged man in jeans and a red sweatshirt wearing a colorful knitted kippah on his head. While I think I have seen him around the hospital, I am not certain that I recognize him.
“Um, no,” I respond, thinking that he asked if I have a lunch break today (we don’t get official lunch breaks).”
He opens his briefcase and says, “I have these franks ‘n blankets that I don’t plan on eating today. I have a double lunch. Here, take these throw them in the microwave for thirty seconds and enjoy. Don’t worry, they are OU.”
He pulls a zip-lock bag out of his briefcase hands it to me and quickly turns and disappears into a lecture hall.
I stand there in shock. I have no idea who this guy is but he gave me lunch but I am grateful. He even walked away before I had a chance to introduce myself!
When I told this to my fellow classmate, she responded, “You gotta love the Jewish connection. I wish I had that.”