As I mentioned in an earlier post, if you were paying attention and not multi-tasking as so many people do today--no wonder the world is in the shape it's in, no one focuses on anything, we are all so busy getting and spending we lay waste our powers, this evening Sylvie and I are off to the Amtrak to Silver Spring, Maryland for nephew Adam's Bar Mitzvah. Sylvie last night throws this out, "it's black tie." May you hang like a tuxedo in a closet and be eaten by moths. My tuxedo I haven't worn since the B'nai fundraiser at which I was honored I think in 1995, when I turned 65. So today while Sylvie is potchkying around I am holding my breath in and trying to button. I am trying to find my tuxedo bow tie, and my good black shoes and a cumberbund.
Many Bar Mitvahs I have presided over and, as a Rabbi, you do your best and your best not to pass judgment. But black tie schmack tie. Black tie is for the parents not the Bar Mitzvah boy. I think comfortable is how you should dress, but neat.
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