Yom Kippur has never been my favourite holiday. Sure the idea is interesting. Start the new year by dwelling on your wrongdoings for 10 days and then fast. A sunset to sunset complete fast (even drinking water is outlawed) but afterwards you get a fresh start. Sometimes the fast can be a powerful experience. Sometimes it just is kind of there. And sometimes, perhaps only on a Yom Kippur that started with an anonymous call where a group sang, "Happy Happy Yom Kippur, Happy Happy Holiday" for a few minutes then hung up, sometimes it inspires reflection of a less expected kind. Instead of focusing on my misdeeds, focusing on how I had hurt people and how I could prevent it in the coming year, I focused on an event 7 months previous.

This was the day after NBC showed Schlinder's List. I had watched it (perhaps subjected myself to it is a better term), then went down to a meeting over a perl script I was writing for someone. While I was waiting (he never showed) I walked down to the Pike Market. That is, for those who don't know the name, the place with the big red neon Public Market sign that for some reason has become a tourist attraction.

While I was walking down there, I discovered a place that sold knishes. I'm a sucker for a good potato knish, so I bought one. I talked with the man behind the counter about the movie. He, like many people I know to from his generation, refused to watch it. "I know it happened. I was there. I don't need to torture myself by remembering it."

I went outside to enjoy the surprisingly nice early spring day. There were outdoor tables there getting their first use of the year. Now 1st and Pine isn't the most yuppiefied area of Seattle. While a few blocks east of there is Westlake Center and Planet Hollywood and (won't you take me to ) Nike Town, 1st is more known for the Lusty Lady- a strip joint with humourous marquees.

So I'm sitting there, eating my knish, and I notice someone watching me. It's a homeless man. He stares at me for a long time. I continue eating my knish, wondering if I should offer it to him or something. He continues watching. I eat some more of my knish. He watches me. I take another bite. He continues to watch. Finally, he looks at me and says... no he shouts, "You should be eating ham and eggs!!" He then walked away. The owner of the shop came out to make sure that he wasn't harassing me. "What did that guy say to you?" "Ummmm that I should be eating ham and eggs..."

I'm still not quite sure as to what he meant; every now and then I ponder it a bit. I figure though that on a fast day, not eating ham and eggs works as well as not eating a knish.

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