All right, I don’t gossip with the neighbors, and I barely look at the neighborhood websight.  So maybe I was the last to know.  But when I went into the neighborhood drugstore today and most of the medications weren’t there, I was shocked.  The pharmacist explained that they were tearing down the building on thursday so they were getting rid of stuff and I suddenly realized that since this place was next to the dorms and most of the people who live in the dorms were Arab students, the entire staff is Arab.  Now what will they do?  

So many memories of this drugstore:  The night after Ezi’s second chemo when we went to buy condoms for the first time in our lives, and we spent hours trying to figure out what the difference is and what could be done with each.  And when we took the craziest selection to the counter, the voice of the pharmacist rang out.  “Brofessor!”