The phone rang a few times, but there was no answer. “Here, you try,” my co-rover, Yehuda, said. I took out my phone and began dialing. The rabbi in Phoenix had given us this number, telling us that it was to a Jewish firefighter in Casa Grande, Arizona. Now that we were here, we decided to call and see if perhaps we’d be able to meet with him.

My luck was no better, and I couldn’t get through either. But we weren’t ready to give up yet, and we proceeded to the nearest fire station. After we had explained who we were, the kind captain brought us in and went to his computer to see if he could help us out. “Yup, he’s on duty today, and he’s stationed at firehouse #1.” We thanked him for his help, and off we went, following the directions that he had given us.

We arrived at firehouse #1, rang the doorbell and asked for Eric. “You see that guy backing the fire truck into the garage? That’s Eric,” we were told.

As soon as Eric saw us, a smile broke out across his face and he motioned to us to wait a minute. After he finished parking the engine, he climbed down and came over to greet us. “Wow, two rabbis! I can’t wait to see the expression on the faces of the guys inside when they see this!”

After we introduced ourselves, Eric insisted on giving us a tour of the entire station: the kitchen, dining area, sleeping quarters (if you think a yeshivah dorm room is small, think again!), and of course the various trucks (no, he did not turn on the lights and sirens for us; I think you need to be under twelve for that).

Well now that we had finished our tour of the station, it was time for us to give Eric a “tour” of what we had brought. “When was the last time you put on tefillin?” I asked. Eric replied that it had been quite some time since he had last had the chance. Yehuda proceeded to pull out his tefillin, while I placed a yarmulke (skullcap) on Eric’s head. As the tefillin were being wound around his arm, the firefighter, who doesn’t back away from entering a burning home, got emotional and began to choke up. We said the Shema, and then went on to the next paragraph of the prayer. As we were nearing the end of the section, the quiet was suddenly pierced by the loud sound of the alarm; a call had come in! We quickly unwrapped, and in less than a minute Eric and his crew were gone.

We were left standing alone in the now empty fire station. I looked down at my watch. “Perfect timing,” I remarked, “we have ten minutes to be at our next appointment. Let’s go!”

Hey. We just started roving today. Our first stop is a city called Tombstone, AZ. It's a real Wild West city with rough looking guys sporting rifles and 10-gallon-Stetsons. We had heard that there was a Jewish section in the old cemetery so we decided to visit and recite some Psalms—after all, the town was not named Tombstone for nothing!

Put down your weapon and roll up your sleeve.

We asked a cowboy if he knew where it was. He told us that he did and that he was (gasp) Jewish. He divides his time between doing real cowboy things and standing around town looking nonchalant. He offered us free tickets to his shooting exhibition (which we declined) and we offered him the opportunity to put on tefillin (which he accepted). He told us that it wasn't his first time: some Chabad guys in an RV in New York had done the same thing with him when he was there a few years back…

Dedicated to the Jewish pioneers and their Indian friends.

When we got to the cemetery we discovered a startling fact. Nobody in these parts ever died: They were all killed by Indians or their fellow cowboys.

It had been pouring rain all day.

It was already 7:30pm. We were just leaving a home after a two hour long visit. They live about 2 miles off the highway, down a dirt road; far far off the beaten track. They had warned us to drive slowly since the rain had probably reduced the road to mud during the course of our visit.

We had planned to spend the night 20 miles away in Show Low, so that we would be able to start our day bright and early. We had already called Priceline to reserve a hotel there.

It was lightening and pouring rain. Even though I was going slower than 5 miles an hour, the car was slipping and turning in all directions. I was sweating buckets in spite of the air-conditioning. To make matters worse, there was a truck behind me glaring his high beams, and I had no cell phone service. We were both praying under our breath. I don't know if I should post this (relax mom) but the rain got even more fierce and the car slipped, turning a full 180!

After a half hour, we made it to the highway. We calmed a bit, thanked G‑d and decided that we would spend the night here, even though we would end up driving during precious daytime hours.

We pulled up to the closest motel and I dashed inside to check in. Before I could open my mouth the lady sitting at the desk says "A JEW, WE NEVER SEE JEWS AROUND HERE!" Taken aback, I asked her if there was a problem. She said "no, there's no problem 'cause I'm Jewish too." She told me that hers was the only Jewish family in town (or so she thought). We made up to meet her parents and siblings in the morning.

They were so excited to see us! Her father put on tefillin for the first time in many years. They asked us for the contact information of the other Jews in town so that they could get to know each other.

Clearly someone up there had a plan for us.

Raphi & Ari
Snowflake, Arizona