Nuremberg Tour 5

Sheepish smile, the coffee house manager says, "I feel bad about what happened. Here's a courtesy swipe card, loaded with $5."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"I told her Jews were a religion, not a race. Everything from Ethiopian to Yemeni to your look."
"How'd she take that?"
"Surprised. I even mentioned a book I read in university, Jews of India."
"Ah you are referring to the exception to the rule."
Grin, "it is considered a universal theme that Jews are very clannish, prefer to associate only with themselves. To disprove universality, one must only show a contrary example."
"I've read of that too."
"Imagine, they actually prefer having friends who are Hindu, Muslim or Parsi. More free conversation, less taboo to trip over."
I nod.
"But that harks back to history. Over two millenia in India without trouble, does tend to dissolve one's paranoia. Elsewhere, history has not been so benign."
"So I've read."
"I must come across as a total idiot. Telling you this and from your accent, you've been there."
"Not India, Guyana, but the East Indian part."
"You got the same reaction?"
"I did not really know I was a Jew until I arrived in Canada. In Guyana, I was just another white person."
"Anyhow, nice talking, got to get to work."
I return to my thoughts. I am quite prepared to discount at source the paranoia of the two mils. At the very least, it is simply their psy conditioning. At worst, it's deliberate propaganda to raise immigration levels.
But my own father? Greed is his middle name. I cannot imagine him leaving that fat profitable business, unless he knows something I don't.
At home, I search Google for hits on all anti-Semitic incidents in Canada in the last ten years. I am totally unsurprised to discover it's just spray paint and a sum total of three broken windows.
So, the $64 question. Why is father afraid? Calling him is out of the question, we have not spoken in several years.
Call mother? I doubt if the KGB could get a straight answer out of her on anything.
So I do the next best thing, drop in at the JCC, Jewish Community Center.
As I read in Haaretz Daily, I eavesdrop. The usual: cars, computers, vacations, flu, stock market. No one says a word about Israel.
There is a sign hanging that is now obsolete. Last evening, the second officer was there doing a public speech.
Curious, I ask the secretary, "didn't know that was on. Much attendance?"
"The usual, dozen senior citizens, wanting to stretch those pensions."
Bingo. Father is possibly ill, looking at retirement. Good medical care, all free, money go further. So he doesn't fear neoNazis running amok.
The officer did not necessarily lie to me. Maybe he just does not know. Father was always very economical with the truth.
I look at my watch. JCC is a ways out, after all, 98% of visitors own vehicles. I got 25 minutes to kill til next bus.
I'm immersed in a story on the Histadruth position on minimum wage law, when I'm interrupted.
"Hello there, recognize me?"
It's Ariel, a former friend of my former "fiancee".
I grin, "haven't seen you in a bit."
"Busy. Publish or perish world. Dog eat dog competition at the university. My publisher is brutalizing me because my manuscript is overdue."
"That's what you get for taking an advance."
He laughs, "come on, let's get real coffee, not this ersatz swill. I'm buying."
"I got a bus sked to meet."
"No problem, happy to drop you off."
I do not get in a word edgewise. Academic politics, troubles with other Profs, trying to refind the muse on his latest book.
Still, he is a nice guy, so when he suggests coffee again, I readily agree.
He drops me in front of my building, waits til I'm safely in.
As he drives away the thought strikes. Nothing at all on his health, parents, siblings, vacations, any recreational reading. Does he actually exist outside of the uni and his publisher? Hard to say.