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My brother Yanky's bar mitzvah was a beautiful event. He came home with stacks and stacks of sefarim he'd received as gifts and carefully began unpacking each gift-wrapped package and placing it on the new shelves my parents bought him. The shelves were filled with all sorts of sefarim. When he finished his work, Yanky took three steps back to examine them. "Wow," he said, and I could tell he was bursting with joy. Suddenly, he turned to my father. "But something is missing, Ta," he said. "What is it, Yanky?" our father asked. "I didn't get a set of Mishnah Berurah," he responded.

Indeed, there was no set of Mishnah Berurah among the many gifts he'd received; and as we all know, a set of Mishnah Berurah is a staple for anyone, especially a budding masmid like Yanky. Tatty smiled fondly. "So tomorrow, we'll go out and buy you a set on our own," he said immediately.

The following morning, Yanky asked Tatty when they would go out together to buy the set, and Tatty assured him that he'd get to it in the afternoon. When we all got home for lunch, however, there was a surprise at the door. One of the neighbors who couldn't make it to the bar mitzvah had bought over a gift-wrapped set of sefarim inside a bag that they'd hung on the han- dle of our door. Yanky immediately brought the bag inside, placed it on the dining room table, and unwrapped it. Inside was a shining new, large, leather-bound set of Mishnah Berurah.