On A Call At Home With Tatty


By Yisroel Shinsky

This story is dedicated to all of my fellow Hatzolah  kids,

for proceeding on their own, while their fathers are on a call.

It was Shabbos Parsahas Vayeishev, year 5777, and we had just finished eating our seudas Shabbos after the davening.     

“Okay, everyone, put on your coats!”

“Mommy, where are we going?”

“To the Green’s* Shabbos Shevah Brachos.”

The Greens were our second cousins, and they were having a Shevah Brachos that Shabbos.

Ziiipp! Zaaapp! Snap! Snap! Snap! On went my coat. I ran outside, toward the gate, and waited for the rest of the family to come along.

Meanwhile, Reb Moshe,* an assistant Rebbe in the second grade, came with his daughter, who was around two and a half years old.

A few minutes passed, and then I saw my Tatty take out his green Hatzolah bag. I told myself,something serious is going on.

I dashed into the house, and I was shocked by what I saw. Reb Moshe’s daughter was sitting on his lap, while my Tatty was asking him questions about his daughter.

“What’s your daughter’s name?

Chana.* [Under his breath, I heard him say “Hanna …”]

“Last name?”


“Date of birth?”

“May 23rd 2014”



“Any medical history?”


“When did this trouble of breathing start ?”

“Half an hour ago.”

Then my Tatty took out two things: his oxygen tank, and a kid-sized breathing mask. He put the breathing mask on her. It barely fit.

Then, he spoke loudly and clearly into the radio: “RL90, RL90, emergency at 1581 Spruce. I repeat, One-Five-Eight-One SPRUCE.”

A minute later, an ambulance pulled up at our house, and my tatty  went out to help Reb Moshe and his daughter into the ambulance. He got them settled, and then told the two Hatzolah members in the cab about the situation at hand. The ambulance pulled away quickly.

All of us kids were shaken to the core, that is, except for Yosef, my one and three quarters of a year old brother. He was way too young to understand what was going on.

“Hashem yivariech es amo bashalom…

I ran over to my friend and neighbor, Chaim Chalmovitch* and played with him for the rest of the day.

This shows you just how helpful neighbors can be and gives you a taste of my life as a Hatzolah kid.         

* All names have been changed.



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