Dennis Prager’s mom Hilda died Saturday, Rosh Hashanah, Sept. 19, 2009.
As he was booking a flight to New York for himself, his wife and his LA son, Dennis asked the ticket agent for the bereavement fare. He’d heard that airlines offered special deals for the bereaved.
I can’t imagine in a million years asking for a "bereavement deal" (I have pleaded for mercy *****), but then again, I was not born Jewish.
It turned out that the bereavement deal was not such a deal.
"I’m sorry I’m a little foggy-headed," Dennis told the ticketing agent, "I’ve never lost a mother before."
The agent replied: "I’ve lost a mother, a father, a sister and a son." Then she began uncontrollably crying.
A friend calls me: "Did you go to New Jersey for Hilda’s funeral? I would have paid money to see you standing at the funeral, waving at Dennis, smiling, reading your Hebrew language copy of "The Catcher in the Rye", singing "Strawberry Fields Forever". I hear you saying, ‘Dennis, my condolences.’
"Are you going to make a shiva call?
"Did you know that if you Google "Michael Moore" and "asshole", only five entries come up but if you Google "Dennis Prager" and "asshole", five million entries come up?"
