The children’s attention wavers now that we’re on the next course, so my cousin, hosting us for Yom Tov, coaxes it back with a story. Afterward, Yossel gets dressed in the bathroom in his new Yom Tov clothes, goes to open the door… and it’s locked. One by one the suggestions are shot down, and we start to worry about poor Yossel, locked away for Rosh Hashanah. I wonder at the somewhat strange choice for a children’s Rosh Hashanah story, and then the men start singing, and the moment passes. I sit on the stretcher in my Yom Tov clothes, and watch a pen record our details.