Coffee and a Story

At Boston University, certain courses were mandatory, including physical education and Fine Arts. My first phys-ed course was merengue ballroom dancing. I also enrolled in a Fine Arts course–Church Architecture. I had to run from the phys-ed building to the liberal arts building for my back-to-back dancing and architecture classes. When I arrived, all but one student had filed into the classroom. That was how I met Judith Novaks.

She was my height and had the softest-looking shoulder length, light brown hair. She held the door open with one hand, and clutched the Church Architecture textbook to her beige sweater. She looked like the movie star Ingrid Bergman.

“Come, the professor, he is going to start.”

Ingrid Bergman never spoke with a European accent. We sat next to each other as Professor LeDeux gave an overview of the course. After class, I walked Judith to the elevator and introduced myself. A smile appeared on her face revealing a dimple on each cheek.

“Glassman? Glassman with one ‘n’?” She asked.

“Yes. And you are…?”

“Judith…Judith Novaks. You are Jewish…yes?”

I tried to be friendly. “Yes. I am Jewish…with one ‘n’.”

She laughed. “I am Jewish also. I am from Israel. My father teaches law at Brandeis University.”

I explained why I was almost late for class and probably would be, for the rest of the semester.

“We can go last…into the classroom together.” She giggled. “You must tell me what is meringue…sometime?”

I was ecstatic. This beautiful creature seemed attracted to me. Meeting Judith would carry me through my parents’ criticism of my course selections, which I vividly remembered.

“Dancing? You’re pre-med? What is this dancing crap?” Dad looked at my mother for back up. “And church architecture. You’re Jewish for God’s sake.”