I am in temple with Ellen and sitting with a man, leaning against him in a very friendly way, yet I don’t even know his name. When the service is let out, Ellen is singing along with the Rabbi while exiting and I’m joking with her about being so religious. Upon reaching home, I realize that I have very old precious items that have been given to the temple, either as gifts or for safe keeping. Somehow I got hold of them. They are
inside colored plastic containers and range from expensive golden rings to baby bibs. I know that each piece has history to it and is someone’s story or memory. One is very moving of a son who has died and there are drawings of outdoor activities which the son and dad experienced together. I feel like the items are so private and precious that I almost shouldn’t be viewing them. I’m ready to put them back into the containers to bring them back to temple when Fred H. comes by and picks up the rings and a Raymond Weil watch , placing them into his pocket. I demand that he return the pieces and after some arguing, he relents.