Holey Waiters, You Are Not Alone

Cy A - New York, New York
Entered on July 23, 2008
Age Group: 65+
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I am a Holey Waiter. “Holey” is spelled h-o-l-e-y, as in holes through which stuff can flow. We couldn’t live without holes. When people ask me who else is a Holey Waiter, I tell them that there are probably billions. We Holey Waiters believe in one great, overriding miracle: the creation of the universe, and we it probably had a cause.

I was born an accidental Jew. Accidental in the sense that my parents, who happened to be of the Jewish Faith, made careless love on the night I was conceived. Like my brother’s old winter coat, they passed Jewishness on to me. If my parents were Hindu, I probably would have become a Hindu.

“Why was I born” is always a good question. In my case, circumcision was, to some extent, responsible. This is what happened: about ten years before I was born my mother gave birth to Stanley, her first-born son. She wanted children, so she was very happy. When Stanley was eight days old she handed him to my father, who gave him to the Mohl to be circumcised according to ancient tradition as prescribed in the Hebrew Bible. Stanley contracted blood poisoning, septicemia. He grew feverish …his body withered… and he died in my mother’s arms.


I had all the answers to life’s questions; no need to look–

They were written down in the Holy Book.

I didn’t want to bother God with big complicated questions such as: why do we exist, where do the laws of physics come from, what is the purpose of life, or why innocent children such as my brother Stanley die while monsters like Hitler thrive…I would ask God a simple question: ‘Should I wear a hat?’

Orthodox Jews wore hats, but other good men took their hats off when they went to their church. To me, the basic theological question was: What did God really want? After pondering and comparing the Hebrew, Greek and Arabic bibles I concluded that these wondrous story books were written by a bunch of guys. Some of the guys were great poets and philosophers; nevertheless, all were just guys who ate and drank, sang songs, and walked around like me and you.

Creation of our Universe was the one inexplicable, overwhelming miracle. The Creator Of this Universe (COTU) may, or may not, give you answers to life’s great questions. But we should in any case be thankful for this amazing planet, a living dot in a virtually infinite universe of black holes and trillions of stars embedded in dark matter. So let us give thanks for our existence and make peace with a life of struggle that always ends in death.

We Holey Waiters feel it is wiser to wait for word from COTU than to follow one-book religions, which have historically caused conflict, wars and confusion. In part this is because the one-book religions were written by and for Middle Eastern tribesmen over a thousand years ago, and rarely apply in today’s world.

But we waiters are tolerant of other humans who may be caught in the web of one-book religions.

We have profound faith in and respect for holes. Black holes dot the universe. We have revere and praise holes without which there would be no life. We pay homage to the seven holes in our head: mouth holes to eat, ear holes to hear, nose holes to savor odors, and eye holes to see. These holes connect us to the real world outside our bodies. We praise the wonderful holes between our legs: birth holes, pee holes, and assholes with out which our miraculous bodies could not live.

When passing through a door all Holey Waiters turn around and hold the door open for those who come after. We have made peace with life; we know that life is a struggle that ends in death, and no one can live a happy life without helping others. If you feel all life evolved after the Creation, and you hold the door open for others, you may consider yourself a member of The Church of the Holey Waiters.