Stories. Since I am a New York Jew, I will begin with a New York Jewish story. Like Portnoy—whom I in no way resemble—I will make it a joke. The joke is only mildly funny, although I remind you that the standards of humor in the Academy are not terribly high. But as we go on, we shall see that this joke has deeper meanings than might at first appear.

Sam Shapiro's daughter comes home from college at the end of her junior year and announces at the dinner table that she is to be married in two weeks time. Mrs. Shapiro goes into panic overdrive and starts to plan a modest wedding for three hundred. Her last words to Mr. Shapiro, before taking over the den as headquarters for the planning operation, are “You are going to need a new suit.”

Mr. Shapiro sighs, and goes to see Schneider the Tailor. “Schneider, I need a new suit, and there's no time for fittings. My daughter, Tiffany, is getting married in two weeks time. It's got to be a real fancy suit.”

“Mazel tov! Not to worry. I will make you such a suit, your own relatives won't know you.”

Schneider measures Mr. Shapiro up one side and down the other, all the while assuring him that there is nothing to worry about. “Just come back the morning of the wedding,” he tells Mr. Shapiro, “wearing your good shirt, your good underwear, and your good shoes. The suit will look like it was born on you.”

Two weeks later, not having spoken more than ten words to Mrs. Shapiro or Tiffany in the interim, Mr. Shapiro goes back to Schneider the Tailor, with his shirt, his shoes, and underwear all just waiting to be graced by the perfect suit. Schneider whisks out the suit with an air of triumph, and tells Mr. Shapiro to try it on.

Mr. Shapiro slips on the trousers, and his face falls. The pants are a disaster. The right leg is three inches too long, and slops over his shoe. The left leg is four inches too short, revealing a quite unappealing ankle. And the waist is too big, so that the pants sag dangerously low on the Shapiro midsection. Mr. Shapiro lets out a cry of anguish, and turns on Schneider. “Schneider, you idiot!” he yells. “What have you done?”