The call was a surprise; the reason behind it even more so. Though Rina had known Honey Klein née Hersh for yearsâthe two girls had been classmatesâshe had never considered her a close friend. Their small Orthodox high school had had a student body of eighty-seven at the time of Rinaâs graduation: twenty-two seniorsâtwelve boys, ten girls. Rina had been friendly with all the girls. But as the years passed, the two women had crossed paths only sporadically; the chance meetings had held nothing beyond pleasantries. Honey had married young to an ultra-religious Chasidic diamond dealer. She had four kids. She seemed happy.
So when Honey asked if she and the kids might spend a week with Rina and her family in Los Angeles, Rina thought it strange. Her first thoughts were: Why me and why here?
Peterâs ranch was located in the rural portion of the San Fernando Valley. The environs had wide streets and big commercial plots roomy enough for storage centers, wholesalers, and warehouses. Sure, the newer residential neighborhoods sprouted tract homes and apartment buildings, but there were still many ranches large enough to stable horses and livestockâparcels similar to Peterâs homestead, her homestead now. The area was LAâs last refuge of undeveloped scrubland, most of it hugging the timbered foothills of Angeles Crest National Park.
Rina knew Honey had closer friends residing in the heart of the Jewish communitiesâin the Fairfax area, Hancock Park, or the newer westside area of Beverlywood. Honey had girlfriends who owned homes within walking distance of the Orthodox synagogues, of the kosher restaurants and bakeries. No one deeply religious stayed at the Deckersâ ranch because it was so isolated. But when Rina had mentioned the geography over the phone, Honey had brushed it off.
âSo itâs a little off the beaten track,â Honey stated. âI figured itâs about time I let the kids see the other side.â
âThe other side?â Rina asked.
âYou know ⦠how the other half lives.â
âThis isnât exactly a den of iniquity, Honey. I still cover my hair.â
âNo, no!â Honey protested. âI didnât mean that. Iâm not criticizing you. Who am I to judge? By the other side, I meant the fun stuffâUniversal Studios, Disneyland, Knottâs Berry Farm, Graumanâs Chinese Theater with the movie starsâ footprints. Is that old relic still around?â
âItâs called Mannâs Chinese Theater now,â Rina said. âYou arenât planning to take the kids to the movies?â
âNo,â Honey said. âJust the outside of the building. And the sidewalks with the stars in them. Theyâre still around, right?â
âYes.â
âNo, weâre definitely not going to the movies,â Honey said, quickly. âIt would be too much for them. We donât have televisions here. We donât even have phones in the village. Well, thatâs not true. There are phones in the produce store, the butcher shop, and the bakery. For emergencies. But we donât have phones in the houses.â
Rina knew lots of religious people who didnât own television sets or go to the movies. She knew plenty of Orthodox adults who shied away from popular fiction and magazines like Time and Newsweek. The stories were too lurid, the pictures were prurient. But no phones in the houses was a first.
âSince when is it halachically forbidden to use a phone?â Rina stared at the receiver. âArenât you using one now?â
âIâm using the one at the bakery,â Honey said. âI know it sounds like every year some group is trying to outfrum the other. That another group goes to more and more extremes to shut out the outside world. But the Rebbeâs not trying to do that.â
The Rebbe, Rina thought quickly. Which Rebbe? Most people thought the Chasidim were one cohesive group. In fact, there were many Chasidic sects, each one interpreting the philosophy of the Baâal Shem Tov a little bit differently.
âIâm sure you have your reasons, Honey. I donât mean to sound disparaging. Goodness knows most people think me strange, being as religious as I am. And poor Peter. The guys at the station house think heâs gone nuts. Like you said, who am I to judge?â
âYou have to understand the Leibben philosophy,â Honey said. âModern machines drive wedges between people.â