At twelve, I could barely read in English, much less Hebrew. For this reason, any spark of interest from him about my direction in life was treated with awe and gravitas; it was like seeing the Pope drop off his dry cleaning.
The synagogue that my parents joined was not the most convenient, not the one with the most family history, nor the most prestigious. But it was directly on Gramercy Park, a famously private and exclusive plot of land in Manhattan.
Gramercy Park is the only remaining private park in Manhattan, and access is limited to those who live on specific lots designated in a historical deed. It represents exclusivity and wealth in the city.
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