A HOT POTATO

The Civic Association group was assembled in the small downstairs meeting room of the Kew Gardens Hills Synagogue. The room was hot and dry but most of those assembled were wearing their dark suits and most of those assembled were wearing their yarmulkes.They probably came directly from work after a quick dinner. All of the attendees were men while the wives were probably at home doing the dishes and getting the children ready for bed.

The meeting primarily focused on the  impending race track in Flushing Meadows Park which Donald Manes, the Queens Borough president was pushing. My husband chaired the meeting as president of the Civic Association. My role was to put together the light refreshments on the back table. This kept me busy arranging the coffee, tea, soda and small cakes. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the men passing a black, a diaphanous article from one person to the next. Each seemed to be handling the item like a hot potato, getting rid of it as fast as possible. There was also the sound of quiet laughter. The object ended up on the last empty folding chair.

I helped serve the food and was busy cleaning up. Finally after everyone had left and my chores were done, I picked up the item and was surprised to see how much it resembled my black nylon Maidenform brassiere. This is weird!! It was even my size 32A. Hey, this looks just like the black 32A Maidenform bra I had brought up from my basement laundry room and put on my banister railing earlier this evening. I didn’t need Sherlock Holmes or Watson or even a scientist to quickly figure out how my black nylon 32A Maidenform brassiere got to this synagogue basement room. STATIC ELECTRICITY. This has to be the explanation. I brought the dry bra up from the laundry room, put it on the banister railing expecting to bring it upstairs. Instead my black down jacket was put over it. Static electricity made the nylon bra adhere to my jacket. I could only surmise when I took my jacket off, the bra fell to the meeting room floor. 

Manes committed suicide. The racetrack was never built. However, the meeting was memorable. How many black nylon 32A Maidenform brassieres had the men in the room ever handled?  Indeed, it was a hot potato!

A true story by Ethyl H.

Nov. 2019