Unfortunately, as the well-known saying goes, “All good things must come to an end.” So, although we are all beyond grateful for the three years that our wonderful in-laws were zoche to live in and enjoy the beautiful garden apartment they rented soon after their aliyah, their landlord ultimately decided to take advantage of the robust housing market and put it up for sale.
It did not take long before the law of supply and demand and the realtors’ magic formula of “Location, location, location” proved themselves once again, and the property was sold for a hefty profit. Alas, the lovely landlord’s good fortune meant that the proverbial clock simultaneously started ticking for my in-laws to commence the search for another rental.
Needless to say, the very same dearth of apartments and sellers’ market that fetched their landlord such a hefty price, meant that rentals were exceedingly few and far between, and listed for obscene price tags. Ever the uber-mensch, their balabus gave them several months to stay on, but between the war and consequent building slowdown, their options were slim indeed.
The rental had come partially furnished, which proved to be an asset when they first arrived. But, as they bought and ‘inherited’ nicer items, the extra furniture metamorphosed into somewhat of a nuisance instead. Fortunately, they had ample storage space, including a large outdoor shed, so they were able to transfer the extra dining room table and chairs and other unnecessary pieces there and promptly forget about them.
However, as their moving date approached, they suddenly remembered all the furniture they had stored in the shed and machsan a couple of years earlier. They had no desire to take those pieces with them, but were at a loss as to what to do. Needless to say, they already had their hands full enough with all the house-hunting, sorting, and packing.
What most people would have done is to leave all those items behind, to become the next guy’s problem. But my incredible in-laws are definitely not most people. Despite being busy with family, work, and their imminent move, they genuinely cared about matching up the discarded furniture with people who could benefit from it. You know: One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and all that.
So now they had another time-consuming activity to add to their already overly full list.
First we called the city sanitation department to find out the weekly schedule for bulk pick-up. As soon as that miraculously fell on their targeted moving day, we knew that we would ultimately not go that route. In any case, junking old but perfectly serviceable furniture was absolutely a last resort.
I posted photos and information about the available items on our local email and WhatsApp groups, and we received a number of responses. Most were from people who were interested in seeing the furniture, while one or two offered helpful suggestions.
“You should really tell Rav K and tzedakah X. I’m sure they will find someone very quickly. It seems to be in very good condition,” read one particularly specific reply. I immediately made a mental note to explore that option, but my train of thought was interrupted by the shrill ring of the phone.
Remarkably, it was the first tzedakah organization on the line. The woman on the phone asked whether my mother or father was available, as she was seeking donations for that very worthwhile mossad. I happily reported that we were long-time regular contributors, and that I was not only the mother of the house, but baruch Hashem. a proud grandmother as well. She sheepishly admitted that she had thought I sounded twelve years old, and we both had a good laugh.
As soon as I hung up, I had a belated lightbulb moment, and quickly called her back.
“Hi,” I said, “It’s the twelve-year-old Savta. We just spoke,” I giggled. She joined in the joke, and then I told her about the furniture, the suggestion, etc.
“We don’t usually do that, “ she confessed, “But I can think of a few people who may be interested, and I’ll try…”
We hung up, still giggling like schoolgirls, and I could not help but marvel at the incredible timing.
Long story short, a procession of prospective “buyers” came to check out and potentially take possession of the furniture. One woman eagerly claimed the table and chairs, taking some on the spot and returning for the rest.
Predictably, while we were up to our ears in last-minute packing, the calls and visitors came at a steady pace. I would have been frazzled and impatient, but my in-laws remained as gracious and welcoming as ever.
In the end, only one large cumbersome wooden breakfront and one sleek corner curio remained. Alas, moving day came, and, despite all their efforts, those two items had still not found a new home. However, in a belated moment of clarity, they realized that the sleek corner curio would actually fit quite seamlessly into their new scaled-down apartment, providing a touch of class and some much-needed additional storage and display space. One down, one to go.
They moved into the new place, temporarily leaving the large breakfront behind in the shed at their former address. The new owners were not scheduled to move in quite yet, so they had a bit more wiggle room to decide its fate, plus pack and schlep the last few items that they preferred to personally move by car.
On Motzaei Shabbos they returned to their former apartment to gather the last remaining items and do a final check of the property. While they were there, one of their neighbors stopped by to say hello and wish them luck.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” he inquired.
They were about to decline his kind offer, when realization dawned, and they instead responded, “Any ideas for this breakfront that we left behind?”
The neighbor followed them to the shed and took a long look at the imposing piece of furniture. Then he brought his wife to check it out as well.
“Our daughter is be’H getting married in a few weeks, and we both think it will be perfect for her!” they shared.
“Mazel Tov!” It truly was a match made in heaven!
