Driveway Serenade

Who says you need a Torah, a bima, and a rabbi from Central Casting to say a blessing? Sometimes all you need is a driveway, three Jews who've been Bar Mitzvahed, and a Short Jewish Gal who knows the drill. Yesterday, in the midst of washing cars -- don't worry, I was only a bystander -- the eldest son, the hubby, the brother John and the SJG sang "Bar-hu et Adonai Ham-vo-rach" into John's cell phone.  We sang loudly and not at all harmoniously.  The police arrived within minutes and issued a citation for "off-key, disorganized chanting." As usual, it was all my fault.  I mentioned to my bro' that our cousin Andy, the Adult Bar Mitzvah Boy come Tuesday, was getting a little nervous.  I made this leap after our recent exchange of emails, all of which ended in "oy."  John flipped open his phone, put us on speaker and we gathered round, hoping to catch Andy between soccer games, ballet recitals, and international flights.  It went straight to voicemail. "Hit it!" I said, and we broke out the Bar-hu, the Natan lanu, the et torato, and ended with a spectacular Amen that echoed through the 'hood.  In this way, we were trying to calm Andy's nerves.  I'm not sure we succeeded.  His email said, "Thanks for the chanting.  Oy." Again with the oy? You're going to do fine, Cuz, and we're going to kvell no matter what, and if anything should go wrong -- God forbid -- we'll get everyone up and doing the hora while you pull yourself together.