Revising my Ideas About Jews and Jamaicans

Before my hospital stay in Brooklyn, I had, with only two exceptions, encountered Jews who thought of themselves as victims, and I had always thought of Jamaicans as easy-going, optimistic, friendly people. My 10 days in a Brooklyn hospital showed me Jews and Jamaicans who did not fit these molds at all.

First off, there was Robby. What a fantastic guy! In the hours we spent talking, he did not bring up victimhood once. What a relief! Also Robby has a sense of humor, he's compassionate toward all people, and he struck me as kind of sexy, especially in a sports coat when he was filming his You Tube video.

Except for Heidi Dorman, a friend in high school, who was a playful, funny kid, and Dennis Garfinkle, my son's hard-drinking, crazy friend from Azerbaijan, the other Jews I have met in my life were so into feeling sorry for themselves. They had gone to the best schools, their parents were well-off, they had been successful in business or in their profession, they had really big houses and drove nice cars, and their kids were going to prestigious schools, but somehow they thought they were oppressed. I thought, "Hey, if this is oppression, bring it on. I could sure use some."

So Robby was the first pleasant surprise. Then there was Dr. Fein, the hospital's chief nephrologist, who took such good care of me. He personally saw to it that I had the supplies I needed to do nightly dialysis. He was such a cutie, forever with a sweet smile on his lips. He wore a yamaka, which served to make him look even more gnome-like than he already did. Truly, if you were going to cast someone in the role of a gnome, you could do no better than this portly bundle of twinkling eyes and sunny disposition.

Then there was the yamaka-beclad orderly who rolled me into the ER. I was beginning to tear up because no one I knew was there to see me into surgery. He held my hand and provided such a loving, compassionate presence, assuring me that there were a bunch of people who were going to take very good care of me.

Then there were the awfully nice people that Robby arranged to visit me. Naomi and her son Avishai. The wonderfully deligtful rabbi. And Robby's roommate, Gavin, who took off a full morning from work to see me. So very thoughtful.

And last but not least, the Silversteins. Helen was my roommote, and I realy was taken with her 90-year-old husband, Lou. He had such a sweet air about him, but you could also tell he was capable of being a tough guy, as he had been the assistant managing editor at the New York Times. And their daughter, Anne, was so kind to me, as was their attendant, Lydia.

So I am very grateful for having met a number of Jews who not only did not think of themselves as victims but were actually having fun with life.

Which brings us to the Jamaicans, who were definitely not having fun. I have to say I have never received such terrible care in a hospital than I received from the Jamaican nurses' aides at Long Island College Hospital in Brooklyn. Virtually all the nurses' aides were Jamaican. All of them had big attitude problems and were extremely inconvenienced when I asked for their help. Aaron said that they got upset if you interrupted their chatting with one another. And they were rude and sour-faced when doing any aspect of their job. Part of the reason why I fell the second time was because I did not want to ask one of these unhappy women to help me.

My friend Ken said that they're probably unhappy because New York City is such a shock to their systems, it's so different from their homeland. Sure, that's true, but they made the decision to leave their islands. They need to regroup and find happiness here. In other words, they need to stop thinking of themselves as victims!