This morning I met with my good friend Jehudi and his wife, Iris. I don't get to see them that often as they live in Germany, so any opportunity to sit down with them and catch up is welcome.
Jehudi has recently launched an international program called the 'good rose' which entails handing a lovely little rose to someone as a gesture of goodwill, appreciation, peace and love.
Jehudi has given out thousands of these roses (he makes them in the Far East), and is now making them available worldwide at cost to promote world friendship. I am one of his many friends helping out in this worthy project.
During our coffee, he suddenly blurted out "Rose, Rosen, Rosenberg". As it happens, another friend of his, Sam Rosen, is also involved in the 'good rose' project. But what Jehudi didn't know is that this is the second Rose, Rosen, Rosenberg team in my life.
The first was back in grade 1 (Hillel Academy, Ottawa, 1957), when I joined my fellow classmates Dave (David) Rose and Frankie (Frank) Rosen to form an invincible soccer trio. All through grades one and two, whenever the three of us played on the same side, the rival team was doomed. We passed, we shot, we scored! We were seven-year old soccer terrors.
Our success and fame, alas, were short-lived. In the third grade, a new Israeli pupil, Naftali Malamud, joined our class. At recess, he showed us what any eight-year-old Israeli boy can do – play real Soccer! He nimbly outfooted us at every turn and put the Rose-Rosen-Rosenberg trio to terrible shame. Our only recourse was going back to playing Canadian football (we never did teach Naftali the rule…).
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