03 October 2004 - 7:42 p.m.

Yesterday afternoon, we were about to sit down to dinner at Miss Mary Bobo's when the hostess asked who would be willing to offer thanks.

There was one of those stretchy little silences. Then K. said, "I could, but it would be in Hebrew."

The hostess smiled: "That's fine." So he asked the folks from Atlanta to pass the basket of cornbread, and recited hamotzi over it.

There were many moments of grace over this past weekend, but that particular one tickles me no end.