How I Met the Goldishes: A Lifetime of Confusion, Part MMMMMDCCLXXII

by RaggedyMom

I'm not much for friendliness, having been raised in New York. But when I realized that a hapless young couple was living in my part of Kew Gardens Hills, I figured they might be worth getting to know, for the mockery factor if for no other reason. Boy, was I wrong! First of all, there are about 4,328 young couples living in Kew Gardens Hills at any given time. And those are only the ones within 2 blocks of Jewel Avenue! How did I have the odd luck of choosing this pair? It's a choice that will always leave me wondering...

Eventually, I did introduce myself to the Goldishes, but not before lambasting Ezzie on his blog for a very rare instance of New York bashing. And walking past him while he wheeled Elianna in her Snap-n-Go (time flies!) several times, trying to determine how weird it would be to say, "Hi, are you that guy from the blog?" And having him think that RaggedyDad was my red-headed male next-door neighbor for a while (though it would be nice to have even *one* redheaded child of my own. Just saying.)

Finally there came an ill-fated day when I did say a proper "hello" at the bus stop that is my front yard. I figured I'd say hi, maybe deign to smile, possibly subject myself to a Shabbos meal once a year, and we'd be good. Clearly I underestimated these people. Not only did they proceed to invite us to numerous events, they actually planted other people at these events who tried to befriend us as well. It was painful, at times. Mildly irritating, to be sure. We had been so happy leading our isolated existence until that point. There was so much smiling, good cheer, and acceptance. It was all so utterly... Midwestern.

Even more disturbing were the Goldishes' friendly overtures toward our children. Books, toys, and other similar props were shared in an attempt to win over the younger Raggedies. It was so transparent, and so very out of line. They somehow managed to memorize our children's names and to speak to them in friendly tones, engendering an immediate guise of closeness. Troubling, indeed, as our stoicness training had been going swimmingly until that point.

Looking back on the past four years, I can reflect back on the extent to which these interloping clowns have become interwoven into the very fabric of our otherwise blessedly anonymous existence. Several mutual friends, many Yom Tov and Shabbos meals that run for upwards of 7 hours, and yet more angst-inducing "hanging out" all attest to how uncomfortable this acquaintance has made us. I have spoken to several lawyers, detectives, hypnotists, gardeners, and cellists regarding this issue, and I am now at liberty to reveal that the Raggedies are taking the rather drastic step of moving to Guam this summer in a last-ditch effort to rid ourselves of the Scoldishes. Moldishes. Goawaylishes. Guam was chosen as a location with supreme unreliability of its Gchat, Skype, Facebook, cell phone coverage, carrier pigeons and message-in-a-bottle capabilities. Wish us luck.




Happy Purim to all of the denizens of the Goldish Pond, chag sameach, and thank you for our social life! We're crazy about you guys!