Last year, a great miracle happened here: Beaver Point Hall on Salt Spring Island. (photo by R. Shefa)
Hanukkah is a celebratory festival with oodles of delicious food – mostly fried – songs, candles and gatherings.
It is also considered a miracle festival. Jews rededicated the Second Temple when a small amount of oil for the Temple menorah lasted for eight days. This is why we eat fried foods, such as potato latkes and melt-in-your-mouth donuts, which also increases our calorie consumption, so we sigh with relief on the last day of the holiday.
Personally, I consider any day that runs smoothly from beginning to end a miracle. Take this past Hanukkah, when I lost a hearing aid on Salt Spring Island.
I had been invited to sing at a Hanukkah party. Although it was a dark, stormy night, my husband and I were excited to meet the locals and unwind in the quaint and character-filled Beaver Point Hall. At 92 years old, the hall has been a regular staple in the community. It hosts a diverse range of activities, such as concerts, workshops, kids programs, dancing and weddings.
A large fire welcomed us and there were some 20 hanukkiyot waiting to be lit before the large potluck dinner began. However, despite numerous announcements to kindly wait until the candles were lit and blessings made, the crowd plunged into the myriad dishes: salads, kugels, mung bean hummus (hey, this is Salt Spring), perogies, lasagna, homemade breads. The volunteer latke makers rushed to serve the latkes.
The hall acoustics became poor, so I took out one hearing aid and placed it in my purse. I could now hear my voice clearly for singing.
As I headed to the smaller room to tune the guitar, the remaining left hearing aid, still in my ear, made its usual beeps to inform me that I had left an aid behind. I ignored it.
After a very pleasant evening, we made the 20-minute trek home to the other side of the island. My hearing aid did not.
After tearing through my handbag, guitar case and car, it was officially not with me. There were only two places it could be: at the hall, or in the garbage, which would have been carted to one of the volunteer’s homes.
We were leaving at noon the next day, so an urgent search was necessary. But the hall was closed and my friend was not answering her phone. After much thought, I Googled the hall’s website. It displayed the calendar with all the rentals, including a dance improv the next day.
Miracle #1: the dance improv’s contact information was on Facebook.
Miracle #2: the organizer responded to my request and messaged back that the hall would open at 9 a.m. for the cleaners.
Miracle #3: after several texts, the organizer decided it was safe to give me the lock code to enter. And so we did. At 11 p.m., my kind husband, Steve, drove me back to the hall, as it’s a bit tricky to drive in the dark on rough roads, with deer occasionally darting out and heavy rain falling.
Steve parked the car so the headlights shone on the lock code and I was inside. Finding the light switches took a good few minutes and I never did find the kitchen ones. I headed to the stage, where my purse had been. Nothing but a few decorations. And then, suddenly, my left hearing aid, still firmly in my ear, began to beep with excitement – its partner was in the hall!
Steve joined the search. My left hearing aid clutched to his ear, he looked in every possible nook. He got excited. When he walked into the middle of the room, he said the beeping was loudest there. If someone had walked into the hall at that point, they probably would have thought there were two aliens loose.
What motivated me to look under an electric outlet, I will never know, but that’s where I found my hearing aid – completely covered by some Hanukkah gelt wrappers, most likely swept under them by one of the volunteers.
It was truly the best Hanukkah miracle!
Jenny Wright is a writer, music therapist, children’s musician and recording artist.