It's a Small World . . .

[tanarill]

There is a game, played by Jews whenever we meet someone who comes maybe from the same-ish area as we do, called Jewish Geography. You say, "What shul did you go to?" and "Is that one kosher restaurant I liked still around?" and especially, "Do you know X family?"

So. Tonight I went to Hillel House, which provides a nice Shabbat dinner to Jews away from home. Their tradition, as they related to me, is that you sit with people you don't know and thus meet them. I followed this instruction, sitting down with a bunch of nice undergrads and making conversation. The one next to me, named Aaron, turned out to also be from the Detroit area, so we started playing Jewish Geography. Finally, he volunteered his last name. The scene played out as follows:

Me: [!!] The W-? Are you Jason W-? Related to him, I mean?
Aaron: He's my older brother.

Let me explain. When I was somewhat younger, I went to a private Jewish day school. It went from kindergarten to eighth grade. Said Jason and I met in kindergarten, and the family moved away at the end of seventh grade. We got along well, and were on swim team together, and our mothers approved of each other. It was good, but then they moved to California for a job.

And now, nine years later, I just happen to meet little Aaron in a Hillel House on the other side of the country.