Sukkot is over now officially. I finally moved my plants back to their proper places. I moved a whole bunch of them this year since I was sad that they did not get any sunlight for over a week. These are my plants that live in the playroom that overlooks the patio where we put the sukkah now. It’s a much better system than when we used to put it on the driveway, but of course, there’s a trade-off.
Oh, I was going to write about my plants and the process of moving another form of pillows once again. I wasn’t thinking of writing about my old sukkah, but I have been thinking about it. How odd the mind.
The reason I was thinking about my old blue sukkah is that the fellow who bought it from us died recently. His was one of two tragic deaths of young men who used to live here, although both moved away a number of years ago. The other fellow moved because he got married at a more advanced age than many, but then was thankfully able to start a beautiful family with his lovely wife. He had called here just a few months ago in this very upbeat voice mentioning that he wanted to talk to ISHI to get his advice, since he was about to go through treatment for cancer and he figured he could gain much from talking to as many people with personal experience as possible.
It wasn’t the cancer that killed him; but probably the treatment. He died of a heart attack on Sukkot.
The other fellow, the one that I mentioned first who had bought our old blue sukkah, had suffered his whole life with mental illness. I talked about him here.
Who will live and who will die?
When ISHI was attempting to build our blue sukkah the first year we were here in town, one of our neighbors stopped by to check out the racket. (L’havdil, unlike Noach and his neighbors.) He was a contractor and he gave some pointers to get it ship-shape and ready. He died a few years after that, a very young man.
The blue sukkah was wonderful. It was a landmark and it was actually more spacious than my dining room, in a way. Except that it was a shlepp to bring the wooden panels up and down the stairs, and it took a considerable amount of time to construct and deconstruct each year. I know that ISHI enjoyed it and got a lot of pride out of it, but I thought that it was time enough to make a change.
We’re not getting any younger.
And the kids were never really around to help shlepp the pieces, anyway. Enough.
So we hired someone to make a nice porch where we had a simple patio, construct a pergola, and make the pieces that could easily enough be put together. Most important, they had to be lightweight.
It still takes enough time, potchky-wise. But in theory, it could go up relatively quickly.
But it’s not blue.
We put our sukkah up for sale; whoever would buy it, whatever they wanted to pay, just so it should have a nice home.
I don’t know what happened to the sukkah. They moved away, the house didn’t get sold for a while. I don’t think the present-day owners have it. I can ask.
It makes sense that maybe I’ll never know.
I’m looking for a song that I learned when I took Yiddish in college that speaks to the whole frailty of life. I found this website that gives a good version, but it’s missing the line I remember that is probably most important. I’ll add that here.
May the Merciful One restore the Sukkah of David which is falling for us. הרחמן הוא יקים לנו את סוכת דוד הנופלת.