"WHAT, ME WORRY?"

 That iconic line from Mad Magazine continues to ring true so many years after the demise of the magazine. What many do not know or recall, is that most of the staff of writers of the magazine were Jewish; hence the subtle and not so subtle hues of "Jewishness" found within its pages. It was a rather wry, very dry, humor, not one to result in paroxysms of laughter, but rather the wry smile and small chuff of acknowledgement that is part and parcel of survival Jewish humor. And it was enough, especially for many of my generation.

  Jewish humor finds bits and pieces to laugh at or with or in spite of in the direst of situations. I can recall bits and pieces of one 'joke' which presented the reader with the image of a man entering a gas chamber turning to ask his Rebbe as to what bracha, what blessing, is to be recited now? Ironic, wry, very dry, and perfectly imaginable, for why not? If Jews awaiting slaughter could sing "I Believe", 'Ani Ma'amin", as they entered Hell, if they could dance and sing Am Yisroel Chai at times of determined efforts to erase them and their history, then humor can be found everywhere, inappropriately or not.

Humor is a survival tool placed in every Jewish person's go bag, acknowledged or not, for it is a fact that at least one time in a person's life, someone will be so gracious as to forcefully remind one that he/she is Jewish, like it or not, and no matter how many times the "accused" denied and denounced Judaism and any and all ties to Judaism. Nope. Doesn't work, so why bother? Better to adopt Mad Magazine's slogan of "What, me worry?"    Exactly. A small shrug of shoulders, a wry understated smile, and continue on with life, whatever that life is at that moment. Look to the better future always awaiting, always sure within the "pintele Yid" within all Jews - admit it or not. It is that small spark of one's Jewishness which is always lit and waiting within the hearts and souls of all Jews.

 So where do we go from here? Not a clue, really. As one looks around, there appears to be no place of sanctuary, no place of certainty, of refuge, of an ability to continue on with life as it should be. And as it was, once upon a time. I must admit, though, that that Once Upon a Time and Living Happily Ever After is a pretty damn scarce scenario in the realm of Jew versus World or Jew in World. What is in plentiful supply, perhaps even in surplus is the consistency of the will to carry on. To keep on going. To step out. To charge out or trudge, but always to carry on in the face of all the adversity.   

Humor, dry, even ugly in root cause, remains a mainstay of Jewish survival. I must admit though, that there are times when the “humor”, such as it is morphs from the realm of humor to the realm of survival, preparedness. Survivalists generally stock up on food, water, ammunition, hideaways, clothing, but not Jewish survivalists. They do something else. That black humor “joke” rises to the surface of the mind and pockets are checked. In fact, I can testify to the reality of Jews doing just that - checking the status of their papers, their passports, some even buying a place to live elsewhere.  

In times of unease and uncertainty, when the shoulders of Jews begin to rise once again around their ears, the dry joke becomes a dry reality. “The smart Jew is one who keeps his passport and papers in order. The wise Jew is one who keeps his passport in his pocket.” There is within each and every Jew a genetic trauma passed along from generation to generation to generation and on and on. Ad infinitum ad nauseum. Time and time again   the truth of that 'joke' has become truth and necessity and too often tragedy.  

How many times have we heard in one voice or another, in one language or another, these words:   "Paperien, bitte". I recall sitting with one Holocaust survivor who showed me the strength and truth of that not so funny humor. Opening her bag, she reached inside and pulled out her passport and her naturalization papers. She told me she never goes anywhere without them. She had already been there and did not want a repetition. She was the wise Jew. And many of us have done the same thing. If not carrying it around within our pocket, we have sent away for renewals, kept them up to date and close at hand.

The feeling creeps up on you. and you don't even notice, until this happens. While packing for a brief trip, Gerry held out his hands holding our passports. With shoulders and eyebrow raised, the unvoiced question was answered equally unvoiced, but with extended arm to take them and pack them and keep them at hand. Current and up to date.      

Alfred E Newman was bold in his "What, me worry?" iconic statement. However, the reality is yes, I worry. Me worry. We all worry, even those who deny that, for history tells us we must do so. That history gives rise to yet another example of   down in the trench time humor. One Jew sends a telegram to another. “Start worrying. Details to follow.” The recipient of that telegram wouldn't need the details, for unfortunately, the details are always the same. 

First, the snarkiness: the under the tone comments. The side eyes look. Then the voices become louder. Bolder. The supporters begin to gather together and promulgate reach out situations to the public, for they know, oh, they certainly do know that there are those who will gladly gleefully join them in hate. Vandalism, threats, harassment, actual attacks. Violence real in output and the fever of hate rises astronomically. The voices of the morally deficient and weak join in, one with the crowd. The scum of society rises to the surface from the depths of that fetid swamp.   

Censorship. Book banning. Book burning. Abridgment of Rights. Erasure of rights. Growing numbers of arrested and disappearing. Screaming louder voices of hate. The mantra of fascism is heard: Believe. Obey. Fight and all and only for the state. A blizzard of dis and mis information. And every time this happens, it proves once again that a society in turmoil needs a scapegoat, a convenient target to focalize the nation and well, most definitely and always "Not good for the Jews." It is merely another depiction of yet another time, different, yet the same.  

The very bastions, the guardians, of a positive society, Progressive in the true sense of the word turns on itself, consumes itself, and becomes something other than what it was meant to be. The Free Press. is gone. Freedom of speech, unbiased reporting, is. a joke and. only those who support the government are free to speak. In place of the libraries and universities rise prisons. Children are subjected to overwhelming waves of propaganda. And one morning we wake up and find we have no idea where we are or how we got here or where we are going. Suffice it to say, that we are going no place good. And once again the Jews will return to their beds, take out that special suitcase, gather their papers and be ready for whatever is heading their way. What exactly? Not necessary to know the details. Just follow that telegram's instructions. Start worrying.

And so I and many others have begun worrying. In fact, we have begun worrying many, many, many moons ago. It is an extremely precarious situation. Like balancing on the point of a newly sharpened picket fence. Nearly impossible. Certainly not probable. I wish that for once someone would appear, a coalition, who would lance these ugly fetid stinking bubbles of hate before their poison had been released. At this point in time, that wish is apparently not possible, certainly not probable.       

Actually. I heard the temperament of the world today neatly phrased by one who knows whereof he speaks. It can be summed up in some brief sentences. When someone leaves on a trip, we no longer say have a good time or enjoy. What we say instead is, "Be safe,". 

Be safe.  Think about those words and their import.