Ode to Bubby

It’s 1:29 Monday afternoon and I’m flying Jetblue high above beautiful southern CA that has sadly turned into a polluted mess.
Yikes.
This is what we’re breathing people.

Yeah.

So something about this flight reminds me of another flight that I once took with my bubby long ago in another time and place. Over different skies in non-leather seats...

It was the summer of 2004.

A cousin was getting married in Arizona and bubby needed someone to fly with her from NY to the west coast.

I was elected.

Doing anything with bubby always promises to enrich the one blessed with the honor.

………

Just living with bubby is a lesson in what’s truly important in life.

Like the countless times I was late for work because bubby needed help counting the pennies from the pushka for ten yad and then needed them placed in the paper wrappers for collection by the little yeshiva boys who ring the bell…or bubby asked that I listen to a grammen she wrote for an upcoming simcha and needed help with some rhyming words.
Or the fact that paper plates that are used for toast shouldn’t be thrown out but rather brushed off and saved next to the toaster for the next time you need a plate. Cuz how dirty is toast? And how precious is a paper plate…
How about the fact that Shabbos is the most important day of the week, which we are all taught from the moment we're born but still seem to be running from the train with shopping bags from Manhattan, up the stairs with the second siren blaring to the disapproving “biz de letzte minit” from bubby (who had everything ready hours before the siren even thought of ringing).

That's my bubby.

………

So we go to check in for the flight and there’s this machine there…the one you can use to swipe your credit card and check yourself in.

I proceed to swipe my card and print my boarding pass. But bubby? She never got her driver’s license, nevermind credit cards.
So for bubby we had to wait on line until we got her ticket from the nice lady behind the counter.

Bubby watches silently.

Getting old is kinda scary. Language has always been a problem and when your hearing and eyesight start to go the world becomes an unfamiliar fast forward film that’s ready to knock you over at any moment.

Bubby holds my arm.
Tightly.
Silently.
From counter top to baggage drop.
From security to terminal.
All the way through lines and people till we finally reached our seats on the plane.

We take off and the plane reaches a flying altitude of 3000 feet.
Silence reigns.
Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.
Bubby turns to me.
Sheepishly.

“Back in the airport, what was that machine…the one with the card? How did you get your ticket from a computer?”

So I start to explain how I booked my ticket with a credit card… recognized me… self check-in …new technology.

Bubby looks at me.

This is the bubby that I’ve tried to explain the workings of the internet to numerous times - to no avail.
Bubby’s not getting it.
Then suddenly a smile breaks out.
Bubby turns to me and says, “We can barely understand what’s going on in this physical world down here…how can we even begin to understand what goes on by the Aibishter?”

Da dum tzzzzzzzzz.

And bubby does it again.