‘How do you kill a pickle?’

I met Jill in the Fall of ’68 at a barn party in Sidney, Nebraska.  She was attractive, clever, witty and Jewish.  And like me, she lived in Denver at the time.  I was in Munitions School at Lowry AFB, and she was in college.

We began dating and one night her father took us to dinner at “The Top of the Rockies,” a very nice restaurant at the time in Denver.  So nice I broke out my J.C. Penney’s blue blazer for the occasion.

I felt very comfortable with her father, and we had a great dinner.  As the evening went along the subject of ‘kosher’ came up.  Now, I had no idea in hell what ‘kosher’ was, so I asked him.

He was very gracious with his explanation.  Keeping it simple for this Gentile, he explained that it had to do with “how” the animal was killed for processing.  I thought for a minute, then just had to ask, “How do you kill a pickle?”

Jill just rolled her eyes, and her father chuckled – it was a funny question, not meant in any disrespect…

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