Rabbi Gold is taken ill and is admitted to Bushey Hospital for treatment. A few days after his admittance, Max, the shul's secretary, goes to visit him. "Rabbi," says Max, "I'm here on behalf of our Board of Trustees. They have asked me to bring you their good wishes for a speedy recovery and their hope that you should live to be 110."
"Thank you," says Rabbi Gold, "I'm pleased to hear of their good wishes for me."
"And so you should be, Rabbi," says Max, "it was touch and go for a while but the final vote on whether we should send you any good wishes ended up 11 to 9 in your favour."
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