I met you a few weeks ago on Shabbat when you spoke at B’nei David. I was the one whose son had dislocated his elbow earlier that day.
I am writing because I saw you probably a few minutes after your accident. I was coming down Highland in the middle of the day, which I don’t normally do because I’m usually at work, but today I had a doctor’s appointment. I saw a group of people walking away from the car and as the light turned green and I got closer, I realized that you were part of the group, with your hand wrapped in a cloth. At first I was shocked and scared, second, relieved to see you walking and talking, then third, impressed by how composed you were and how politely you asked someone to please go away, in a moment of what I’m sure was quite scary for you.
My first instinct was to get out of the car and help you, but then I thought, no, she has people with her, and she doesn’t even know you, and I didn’t even know how to get out of my car at that intersection. I drove about two blocks down Hollywood and realized that I needed to turn around, just in case there was something I could do, and because I knew that if you were in my situation, you would have jumped out of the car to try to help. I didn’t want to assume anything. I remembered your inspiring story about how you helped the elderly man at the airport, how you went so out of your way to help him. That is all I was thinking about as I turned the car around and tried to park in a hotel’s driveway. I walked about five steps and was yelled at to come back to my car and move it as I was blocking the side walk. I tried explaining why I needed to leave it there, but when I realized that wasn’t working, I heard and saw the ambulance approaching you, as you were trying to stand up.
I realize that I didn’t end up helping you and I didn’t even make my way over to you to try to help. I am simply sending you this note to show you how you are inspiring people all over the world. All of the people who read you articles on Kveller and Facebook and all of the people who are fortunate enough to hear you speak and even to meet you.
You inspire me to be a better, wife, mother and Jewish woman.
I wish you a huge refuah shelema [full recovery] and hope that your hand completely recovers as soon as possible so you can pick up and hold your boys with ease.
All my best.