I was here in the western wall plaza Monday and today is Thursday. These are the two days when, it seems, every Jew in Jerusalem comes to celebrate the coming of age of their sons or their uncle's second cousin's son who's had his bunions twice removed.
I'm just up a little from the plaza, enjoying some delicious schwarma for lunch, and a little peace and quiet from the pace of the last ten days.
Just now a troupe of professional bar-mitzvah-for-hire musicians with drums and trumpets have started assailing my ears with the kind of volume that should be reserved for King David, our even his more famous "son."
There's dancing and much happiness. Better these guys than professional mourners.
