Growing up with a name like Apt was not always funny; but, as you can imagine, it was often punny. (Besides which, we did occasionally have a good laugh when my father unexpectedly received a letter addressed “Dear Mr. Apartment.”) Somehow, everyone I bumped into seemed to fancy himself a comedian. I tried my best to take it all in good humor, but I must admit that it got tiresome at times. Oh well, I suppose I should be grateful that at least my name had decidedly positive connotations.
In any case, back in the 60’s I was an ‘apt’ pupil studying in seminary in Yerushalayim. Our day-to-day schedule was quite demanding, but I did manage to find some time to visit friends and relatives, particularly during free Shabbatot, when we were encouraged to make our own arrangements to enjoy family hospitality and get to know both the country and the people.
I often spent Shabbos with one particular family (of a close friend) in Yerushalayim, and likewise, popped in to see them whenever I had a chance. On a number of these occasions, I noticed a yeshiva bochur who seemed to come frequently to meet with my friend’s father.
One evening, that young man ‘happened’ to leave just as I did, and he chivalrously offered to walk me to my bus stop. Being a Bais Yaakov girl, I immediately surmised that anyone catching a glimpse of us would assume that we were on a shidduch date. So I thanked him sincerely, but politely refused his offer.
As luck would have it, and much to my embarrassment, I found myself bumping into this bochur quite regularly after that. And, as if it wasn’t awkward enough to see him every now and then when I visited my friend, I began to encounter him elsewhere as well.
In fact, it seemed we had the same erev Shabbos shopping schedule. I would find myself running errands in Geula virtually every erev Shabbos, and there, in the midst the non-stop hustle and bustle and throngs of frenzied Friday shoppers, I would invariably ‘find’ him as well.
We never exchanged much more than a mumbled greeting and perhaps a halfhearted, “Have a good Shabbos!” Still, call it women’s intuition, binah yiseirah, whatever, I had a definite feeling that despite the many wonderful qualities which he undoubtedly possessed, I knew with one-hundred percent certainty that he was not for me.
In fact, he must have sensed the same thing, and drawn the identical conclusion. After many such ‘chance’ encounters, he began to sing a constant refrain, the gist of it being:
“You would be a perfect match for my roommate!”
As much as I ‘appreciated and valued’ this novice amateur shadchan’s opinion, I certainly harbored my own doubts and misgivings.
If this boy is so obviously a mismatch for me, why would his roommate conceivably be a good fit?
However, after crossing paths so many times, and hearing the bochur’s verdict stated repeatedly, with mounting conviction, I honestly began to wonder:
Could our frequent encounters possibly be min hashamayim? Is Hakadosh Baruch Hu trying to tell me something that I am obstinately and intentionally ignoring week after week after week?
Finally, the voices in my head demanded my attention.
What do I have to lose, after all?
I ultimately acquiesced and agreed to give the yeshivah bochur my contact information to pass on to his roommate. At that precise moment, he had just emerged from the dry cleaners with a bundle of clean clothes, so he triumphantly scribbled my name and number right on the package along with the prediction: APT to be good!
Well what can I say? The rest, as the well-known saying goes, is history…
I eventually met and dated his roommate, got engaged to him, married him, and was fortunate enough to be his loving wife for many (but far too few) priceless years, until he prematurely left me, as well as the beautiful family that we had merited to establish together, to ascend to the Yeshiva shel Maalah (study hall on High).
In retrospect, I thank Hashem from the bottom of my heart for not giving up on me and for sending me that heavenly shaliach (messenger) again and again, until at long last, I belatedly heard the subtle Divine message.
As for the bochur’s hastily scrawled message, “APT to be good”, that impromptu, albeit prophetic note made its way into our engagement album, where it is treasured and revisited often until this very day.
