Children, in the end, are what Jerusalem, what Israel, is all about. The handsome old Chasid, deep blue eyes, fine white beard, wearing his very grand streiml and kappota looks down into the questioning face of the little boy. “Go on,” says the mother, “ask him why he wears that kind of hat.” The child is shy. The Chasid smiles, leans forward,. “That’s,” he says, giving a little toss of his head, “that is my Davy Crockett hat.”
Come for a dose of inspiration from some of the greatest (and at times oddest) minds of history. The table is set. Come eat.