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Yay, the chag is over! Passover is OVER; it has now PASSed us by...
These last few days of Shabbos/Yom Tov were rather difficult. Firstly, it was a very short week, and one barely had time to finish up with the first days, when the last days were suddenly upon us.
I was supposed to be back to work for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. But on Thursday there was some "family drama" happening and I couldn't go to work. In relation to that, en route to deal with the family drama, we had a major tire blowout on our van, and hubby took it upon himself to change the tire.
Now maybe changing a tire isn't so bad, but hubby, who has a history of back trouble, and already had surgery some years ago, and has been doing ("pu, pu, pu") pretty wonderfully ever since, slipped a couple days earlier and slightly hurt his hip area. Add that macho change-a-tire mode, to hurt hip area, to standing all afternoon for the family drama, and we've got troubles...back troubles...troubles that are reminiscent of all those years ago when surgery was the only answer.
So, we have major pain happening, with lots of immobility, we have company Friday night, we have gross rainy weather for the next two days, we have three young children... What does that amount to? CABIN FEVER!
Last week for Yom Tov, it was different: my children had cousins to play with for one seder night and one lunch, family friends' kids to play with second seder night. This weekend, no kids, save each other. Yes, they read books, they played board games, they played card games, they played indoor hockey and soccer, they performed simple magic tricks. But what else did they do? They got on each other's nerves; answers weren't given -- they were SHOUTED! Tears flowed generously; "What can I do now?" was heard countless times. Incoming messages to the Complaint Department exceeded the department's patience and tolerance. If my kids were to ever be contestants on "Survivor: The Children's Edition" they wouldn't make it very far -- there would be no winners, only accusations of "He cheated!" "You cheated!" "She cheated! I don't want to play with her anymore!" They would each storm off in different directions, kicking up sandstorms, and disturbing the native wildlife and island inhabitants.
Thank G-d the weather cleared for some time this afternoon and we could finally take a walk and let out some of that pent-up energy and frustration. Eema, children, and pug took a walk to a nearby park, leaving aching, longsuffering Aba to rest (even more!) for a little over an hour. The COLD fresh air was good for all involved and we came back home a little refreshed, a little tired and a little happier.
This evening, Yom Tov was to be out around 9:09 (depending on which calendar you refer to); at about 9:00, my children started their famous chant and dance, "Nine more minutes till Yom Tov is over...eight more minutes till Yom Tov is over..." (if they're not in shul, they also do this dance to decree the end of Shabbos, and some of their friends, who've stayed for Shabbos, have learned the chant/dance, too)
I have to admit: sometimes that dance/chant is rather appealing...
Hopefully you all made it through the matzoh, the maror, and the mayhem.
Next year in Jerusalem...or Miami Beach...or Phoenix...or Orlando. No, scrap Orlando -- during Yom Tov, the kids would be wailing, "Hey, we can't even go to Disney World 'cause it's Yom Tov. Why did we come here, anyway????"
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Picture This! -- Part 2
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Several posts ago, I wrote about my "little problem" with not having put photos in albums for just about eightyears. http://wwwpearliesofwisdom.blogspot.com/2005/03/picture-this.html
It has been a project "assigned" to me by my husband; I am to prepare albums between Pesach and Shavuot, in some semblance of order, or else he will find someone else to do it -- namely him! But like I said before, I may have procrastinated in the project, but I'll do a damn well better job at archiving the photos than he will.
Little does he know (unless he'll happen to read this post) that there's also a problem with my children's school pictures I've bought over the years. Not too long ago, I was looking for something in a cupboard and found a package of school pictures that I'd paid good dollars for -- you know, one 8 by 10, two 5 by 7's, four 3 1/2 by 5's and a class picture. The package was pretty much intact, which means that I'd not framed the 8 by 10 for ourselves, nor had I given grandparents the 5 by 7's nor assorted aunts and uncles the wallet sized photos. How horrible could I be? Isn't a mom supposed to "kvell," supposed to proudly display her framed "kinderlach" on home walls and bookshelves?
Well, I have several beautiful frames that I've bought or received as gifts over the years, but they sit vacant, just waiting for this TorontoPearl's children to rent the space. My beautiful walls beckon to me: "I need a photo here. I need a collage there. If you don't hang something up soon, I might just crack!"
Our family room wall unit has some photos, but most of them appear to pay homage to my oldest child when he was between the ages of infancy and two (eight years ago -- yeah, that's just about how long I've neglected to put photos in albums); yes, there are a couple of my middle child here and there, but none of the youngest.
The same in my bedroom on my dresser, but I think a photo of my youngest snuck in there somewhere.
I am the youngest of three children, born in September, and in 1961 people weren't photographing as often and as freely as they do today. So, the earliest photos of me were taken in the spring of 1962, and I was already several months old. Of course, whenever I'd look at the family photo albums(my mother is the most organized "albumist"; she worked as a negative cutter in the film business, so perhaps the details related to that job carried through to her arranging of photos and negatives...?) I'd question it, assuming that I was adopted and came into the family a bit later. Such wasn't the case, but I guess it was also the "third child syndrome"-- ie. fewer photos as the list of children goes on.
In any case, I hope to report back to you in a month or more that I indeed coordinated and arranged beautiful photo albums of my family, gave out beautiful school photos of my children, and became the best photo archivist this side of Lake Ontario!
Several posts ago, I wrote about my "little problem" with not having put photos in albums for just about eightyears. http://wwwpearliesofwisdom.blogspot.com/2005/03/picture-this.html
It has been a project "assigned" to me by my husband; I am to prepare albums between Pesach and Shavuot, in some semblance of order, or else he will find someone else to do it -- namely him! But like I said before, I may have procrastinated in the project, but I'll do a damn well better job at archiving the photos than he will.
Little does he know (unless he'll happen to read this post) that there's also a problem with my children's school pictures I've bought over the years. Not too long ago, I was looking for something in a cupboard and found a package of school pictures that I'd paid good dollars for -- you know, one 8 by 10, two 5 by 7's, four 3 1/2 by 5's and a class picture. The package was pretty much intact, which means that I'd not framed the 8 by 10 for ourselves, nor had I given grandparents the 5 by 7's nor assorted aunts and uncles the wallet sized photos. How horrible could I be? Isn't a mom supposed to "kvell," supposed to proudly display her framed "kinderlach" on home walls and bookshelves?
Well, I have several beautiful frames that I've bought or received as gifts over the years, but they sit vacant, just waiting for this TorontoPearl's children to rent the space. My beautiful walls beckon to me: "I need a photo here. I need a collage there. If you don't hang something up soon, I might just crack!"
Our family room wall unit has some photos, but most of them appear to pay homage to my oldest child when he was between the ages of infancy and two (eight years ago -- yeah, that's just about how long I've neglected to put photos in albums); yes, there are a couple of my middle child here and there, but none of the youngest.
The same in my bedroom on my dresser, but I think a photo of my youngest snuck in there somewhere.
I am the youngest of three children, born in September, and in 1961 people weren't photographing as often and as freely as they do today. So, the earliest photos of me were taken in the spring of 1962, and I was already several months old. Of course, whenever I'd look at the family photo albums(my mother is the most organized "albumist"; she worked as a negative cutter in the film business, so perhaps the details related to that job carried through to her arranging of photos and negatives...?) I'd question it, assuming that I was adopted and came into the family a bit later. Such wasn't the case, but I guess it was also the "third child syndrome"-- ie. fewer photos as the list of children goes on.
In any case, I hope to report back to you in a month or more that I indeed coordinated and arranged beautiful photo albums of my family, gave out beautiful school photos of my children, and became the best photo archivist this side of Lake Ontario!
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Seraphic Vision
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Seraphic Vision
As the moon crescents
in the night sky
And the stars wink
up above
Hashem’s evening majesty
is revealed.
And closer to home
you, with your dark eyes,
that familiar, warm, nut-brown shade,
remain deep in prayer, immersed in learning,
wearing your cloak of piety
wrapped lovingly around you
and worn proudly
like a family heirloom passed down through the generations.
You, with the gentle yet impassioned soul.
Proud like a lion – Ari – but humble in your manner.
With one purpose: to serve family and Hashem.
Your bright eyes are inquisitive; they also smile behind their seriousness
because they know the secrets of the angels,
the first order of angels who sit by the majestic throne of Hashem
serving his needs, coming to his aid.
You, like the seraphim, meet the needs of others.
It is you who answers the questions, but doesn’t ask them.
You, who seeks to share your knowledge, your wisdom,
ready to impart all with others.
It is you who comforts like a father
when you are but only a child.
It is you who brings meaning to life -- to Chaim.
It is you who breathes life into words, helping to shape them into tangible ideas,
ideas, that, too, will carry through the generations.
Avarechicha – and I will bless you.
V’yishmerecha – and I will keep you.
*********
These words, this poem was written by me in January. I submitted it to the Passover literary supplement of our community Jewish newspaper, and it was accepted and published just last week.
A friend of mine loved the poem but did not know what to make of it. She thought it was a love poem I'd written for my husband. I gave the explanation to her, as I'm giving to you.
This poem was written with Ariel Chaim Avrech, z"l, in mind. I did not know this young man, I never met this young man, I'd never even heard of this young man until last October. But then I started to read about him, started to learn about all he'd possessed, all he'd represented and all he'd been capable of. And I began to know him.
You, too, can get to know Ariel. You can read his father, Robert J. Avrech's moving blog, with interjective comments from his mother, Karen. His parents keep memories of their son strong, alive, giving him chaim, not only in their hearts, but on their computer screen, for all the world to see. I hope you'll take a moment to see...and learn...and know.
http://www.seraphicpress.com
Seraphic Vision
As the moon crescents
in the night sky
And the stars wink
up above
Hashem’s evening majesty
is revealed.
And closer to home
you, with your dark eyes,
that familiar, warm, nut-brown shade,
remain deep in prayer, immersed in learning,
wearing your cloak of piety
wrapped lovingly around you
and worn proudly
like a family heirloom passed down through the generations.
You, with the gentle yet impassioned soul.
Proud like a lion – Ari – but humble in your manner.
With one purpose: to serve family and Hashem.
Your bright eyes are inquisitive; they also smile behind their seriousness
because they know the secrets of the angels,
the first order of angels who sit by the majestic throne of Hashem
serving his needs, coming to his aid.
You, like the seraphim, meet the needs of others.
It is you who answers the questions, but doesn’t ask them.
You, who seeks to share your knowledge, your wisdom,
ready to impart all with others.
It is you who comforts like a father
when you are but only a child.
It is you who brings meaning to life -- to Chaim.
It is you who breathes life into words, helping to shape them into tangible ideas,
ideas, that, too, will carry through the generations.
Avarechicha – and I will bless you.
V’yishmerecha – and I will keep you.
*********
These words, this poem was written by me in January. I submitted it to the Passover literary supplement of our community Jewish newspaper, and it was accepted and published just last week.
A friend of mine loved the poem but did not know what to make of it. She thought it was a love poem I'd written for my husband. I gave the explanation to her, as I'm giving to you.
This poem was written with Ariel Chaim Avrech, z"l, in mind. I did not know this young man, I never met this young man, I'd never even heard of this young man until last October. But then I started to read about him, started to learn about all he'd possessed, all he'd represented and all he'd been capable of. And I began to know him.
You, too, can get to know Ariel. You can read his father, Robert J. Avrech's moving blog, with interjective comments from his mother, Karen. His parents keep memories of their son strong, alive, giving him chaim, not only in their hearts, but on their computer screen, for all the world to see. I hope you'll take a moment to see...and learn...and know.
http://www.seraphicpress.com
Chassidic Masters Tell All
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At the second seder, the one that my husband and I hosted in our home, we distributed mainly the same Haggadot, so people would have an easy time to follow, whether they were more comfortable reading Hebrew or English. I, however, chose to be different and used an ArtScroll Mesorah Series Haggadah called Haggadah of the Chassidic Masters -- it had been a gift to me from an aunt many years ago, and is a most lovely Haggadah to use.
The book jacket says: "...This is a book to be savored at the seder and at all times of the year.... It is filled with penetrating and exciting ideas, insights, into life and destiny, stories that make one think about his mission and his role as part of a family, a town, a nation..."
In between keeping my eye on the children, keeping my eye on the children handling the crystal wine glasses, I was reading along in the Haggadah, my eyes straying every now and again to a Chassidic story written in English. This particular one drew my attention:
When Rebbe Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov passed away, Rebbe Sar Shalom of Belz sighed and said, "What a pity! We have lost an upright Jew." ("ehrlicher Yid")
"An upright Jew only?" exclaimed his wife. "He was among the greatest rebbes of our age."
"Rebbes we have in plenty," replied her husband, "but upright Jews are few and far between."
Unfortunately, there were countless upright Jews missing from family seders throughout this city and farther abroad -- tragedies and illnesses had taken them, some too fast, others too soon, some too young -- and their presence was strongly missed. In these families, when the seder called for leaning, no doubt family members leaned just a little more, leaning on and supporting each other in the shadow of their sorrow and melancholy.
It is my hope that some kind of seder -- order -- can eventually be brought back into these families' lives and that the chair that sits empty now, symbolizing the missing family member, will be looked at not just with great pain, but in time with pure reverence, because of the memories associated with the"ehrlicher Yid" it belonged to.
At the second seder, the one that my husband and I hosted in our home, we distributed mainly the same Haggadot, so people would have an easy time to follow, whether they were more comfortable reading Hebrew or English. I, however, chose to be different and used an ArtScroll Mesorah Series Haggadah called Haggadah of the Chassidic Masters -- it had been a gift to me from an aunt many years ago, and is a most lovely Haggadah to use.
The book jacket says: "...This is a book to be savored at the seder and at all times of the year.... It is filled with penetrating and exciting ideas, insights, into life and destiny, stories that make one think about his mission and his role as part of a family, a town, a nation..."
In between keeping my eye on the children, keeping my eye on the children handling the crystal wine glasses, I was reading along in the Haggadah, my eyes straying every now and again to a Chassidic story written in English. This particular one drew my attention:
When Rebbe Tzvi Elimelech of Dinov passed away, Rebbe Sar Shalom of Belz sighed and said, "What a pity! We have lost an upright Jew." ("ehrlicher Yid")
"An upright Jew only?" exclaimed his wife. "He was among the greatest rebbes of our age."
"Rebbes we have in plenty," replied her husband, "but upright Jews are few and far between."
Unfortunately, there were countless upright Jews missing from family seders throughout this city and farther abroad -- tragedies and illnesses had taken them, some too fast, others too soon, some too young -- and their presence was strongly missed. In these families, when the seder called for leaning, no doubt family members leaned just a little more, leaning on and supporting each other in the shadow of their sorrow and melancholy.
It is my hope that some kind of seder -- order -- can eventually be brought back into these families' lives and that the chair that sits empty now, symbolizing the missing family member, will be looked at not just with great pain, but in time with pure reverence, because of the memories associated with the"ehrlicher Yid" it belonged to.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
One Day or Another...
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The band Blondie had song lyrics that went something like this: "One way or another, I'm gonna find you, I'm gonna get you, get you, get you..." For the sake of this post's title, I changed "way" to "day"!
The first days of Pesach were over in Toronto over three and a half hours ago. This year it was somewhat more difficult in terms of nuances of the holiday because Shabbos got in the way of Yom Tov preparation, chametz got in the way of Yom Tov preparation, and particular halachot got in the way of Yom Tov preparation. But we learned all the ins and outs, all the particulars to observe to get us to the start of Yom Tov, which took place on Saturday p.m. after Shabbos was over.
In spite of having two main holiday markers -- two seder nights -- these past few days have been somewhat of a blur for me, with one day becoming like the one before it and the one after it. I've been home from work since Wednesday, doing final preparations, although my good -- no, my wonderful husband -- had done much of the prep work himself, taking off from work a few days before me to set everything up in the kitchen. How many women are lucky enough to find men like this, who also cook and bake wonderful delicacies for a seder meal? I came home from a medical appointment on Wednesday to find that my husband alone had shlepped all our dishes and Pesach accoutrements from our basement crawlspace, took them upstairs, set everything up in the washed out kitchen cupboards, putting away the daily dishes and cutlery, setting up the counters and the stove and oven and sinks for Pesach use. A gift from G-d this husband of mine? Perhaps. I think I'll keep him!
Early last week had been beautiful, and hot, and summerlike. But the forecast for Friday through Monday (great...just what I needed for Shabbos and Yom Tov) was cool weather and rain for the four days. And this time the weather forecasters knew exactly what they were talking about. We were homebound for all of Shabbos, and after Shabbos, put on the layers of rain gear, including rain boots, slickers, ponchos, plastic covers on strollers and wagons and set out for Seder #1, a 40 minute walk from our home. Seder #2 was hosted by my husband and I at our home, so no need to go out again with the children late at night. Today, we donned the raingear once more to make a 1-hour trek to a sibling for lunch, decided not to wait till Yom Tov was out to go home, and three out of five of us, marched home after six o'clock, donned in raingear and making the one hour return trek...trying to walk between the raindrops, and failing miserably!
Yes, it's nice to spend a Shabbos or Yom Tov with family and friends. It's nice to have a "long weekend" and miss work for an extra day or two. But in circumstances, such as the past few days presented themselves, one day blurs into the next -- socialize, eat, sleep, socialize, eat, sleep...[look out the window upon awakening to check if it's raining outside]
I'm heading back to work tomorrow, with hard-boiled egg, juice box, matzoh sandwiches, fruit, salad, macaroons in hand. I know it'll be Tuesday, but I'll think it's Monday, and when the end of the week rolls around I'll be pleasantly surprised momentarily, because I'll have forgotten that we're already at week's end. But then I'll quickly be reminded because I'll know that cooking will be happening for Shabbos and Yom Tov yet again.
Shabbos. Yom Tovs. Cycles. Isn't that what life's all about?
The band Blondie had song lyrics that went something like this: "One way or another, I'm gonna find you, I'm gonna get you, get you, get you..." For the sake of this post's title, I changed "way" to "day"!
The first days of Pesach were over in Toronto over three and a half hours ago. This year it was somewhat more difficult in terms of nuances of the holiday because Shabbos got in the way of Yom Tov preparation, chametz got in the way of Yom Tov preparation, and particular halachot got in the way of Yom Tov preparation. But we learned all the ins and outs, all the particulars to observe to get us to the start of Yom Tov, which took place on Saturday p.m. after Shabbos was over.
In spite of having two main holiday markers -- two seder nights -- these past few days have been somewhat of a blur for me, with one day becoming like the one before it and the one after it. I've been home from work since Wednesday, doing final preparations, although my good -- no, my wonderful husband -- had done much of the prep work himself, taking off from work a few days before me to set everything up in the kitchen. How many women are lucky enough to find men like this, who also cook and bake wonderful delicacies for a seder meal? I came home from a medical appointment on Wednesday to find that my husband alone had shlepped all our dishes and Pesach accoutrements from our basement crawlspace, took them upstairs, set everything up in the washed out kitchen cupboards, putting away the daily dishes and cutlery, setting up the counters and the stove and oven and sinks for Pesach use. A gift from G-d this husband of mine? Perhaps. I think I'll keep him!
Early last week had been beautiful, and hot, and summerlike. But the forecast for Friday through Monday (great...just what I needed for Shabbos and Yom Tov) was cool weather and rain for the four days. And this time the weather forecasters knew exactly what they were talking about. We were homebound for all of Shabbos, and after Shabbos, put on the layers of rain gear, including rain boots, slickers, ponchos, plastic covers on strollers and wagons and set out for Seder #1, a 40 minute walk from our home. Seder #2 was hosted by my husband and I at our home, so no need to go out again with the children late at night. Today, we donned the raingear once more to make a 1-hour trek to a sibling for lunch, decided not to wait till Yom Tov was out to go home, and three out of five of us, marched home after six o'clock, donned in raingear and making the one hour return trek...trying to walk between the raindrops, and failing miserably!
Yes, it's nice to spend a Shabbos or Yom Tov with family and friends. It's nice to have a "long weekend" and miss work for an extra day or two. But in circumstances, such as the past few days presented themselves, one day blurs into the next -- socialize, eat, sleep, socialize, eat, sleep...[look out the window upon awakening to check if it's raining outside]
I'm heading back to work tomorrow, with hard-boiled egg, juice box, matzoh sandwiches, fruit, salad, macaroons in hand. I know it'll be Tuesday, but I'll think it's Monday, and when the end of the week rolls around I'll be pleasantly surprised momentarily, because I'll have forgotten that we're already at week's end. But then I'll quickly be reminded because I'll know that cooking will be happening for Shabbos and Yom Tov yet again.
Shabbos. Yom Tovs. Cycles. Isn't that what life's all about?
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Putting the Pieces Back Together
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Of course I have to post something Pesach-related, considering that it's almost upon us, and most of the blogs I've been reading make some mention of the holiday. So here's my contribution...
As a bright person, I often wonder if my brain is missing just a little bolt, or a little screw because I have some difficulty with doing puzzles, refolding maps and tasks like that. Sometimes my logical skills are weak, other times they shine. But around Pesach, when I'm doing a major spring cleaning, that part of the brain needs to be oiled just a touch more.
I've just finished cleaning my car's interior, saving myself a good $65-$90 in doing it myself. And when I'm transporting three young children here and there in the vehicle, it shows in the car's interior. First I pulled out all the car mats, and the rubber mats, and the child's car seat, and then I really got IN the cleaning mode: sprayed everything DOWN, vacuumed everything UP, turned everything OVER that was loose, got UNDER the seats and threw all the garbage OUT.
Now that part of the brain has to figure out which mats go where and how to put them back!
The other night, it was the two fridges that I'd cleaned -- pulling out all the drawers, all the shelves. My husband had already gone to sleep as I did my task late at night, and I knew I couldn't wake him up to help me out. From past years' experience, I knew that I'd always call, "Honey, could you come here please? I can't remember where everything goes and how to put everything back in the fridge [that's without referring to the food in the fridge!]." I was dreading that this year I'd stumble over the same stumbling block, but lo and behold, I DID IT, and without difficulty! What accounted for the smoothness of it all this time around? I didn't change my ways -- I didn't take a shelf out, wash it, and immediately replace it, which one would think is the logical way of treating this weakness of mine, ie. one step at a time; complete it; go on to next step. No, I took out all items at once, and then put them back one after another.
Okay, so something helped me along -- perhaps I had to compensate for lack of sleep by being acutely "sharp" this time. Who knows? But if you'd like to hand me that road map of California, maybe I could refold it for you...?
*****************
May your reliving of the Jews' exodus from Egypt by retelling the story of the Haggadah be most meaningful for you and your family. Hope every one of you Jewish readers can send me a post card from your seder, saying, "Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here!"
Of course I have to post something Pesach-related, considering that it's almost upon us, and most of the blogs I've been reading make some mention of the holiday. So here's my contribution...
As a bright person, I often wonder if my brain is missing just a little bolt, or a little screw because I have some difficulty with doing puzzles, refolding maps and tasks like that. Sometimes my logical skills are weak, other times they shine. But around Pesach, when I'm doing a major spring cleaning, that part of the brain needs to be oiled just a touch more.
I've just finished cleaning my car's interior, saving myself a good $65-$90 in doing it myself. And when I'm transporting three young children here and there in the vehicle, it shows in the car's interior. First I pulled out all the car mats, and the rubber mats, and the child's car seat, and then I really got IN the cleaning mode: sprayed everything DOWN, vacuumed everything UP, turned everything OVER that was loose, got UNDER the seats and threw all the garbage OUT.
Now that part of the brain has to figure out which mats go where and how to put them back!
The other night, it was the two fridges that I'd cleaned -- pulling out all the drawers, all the shelves. My husband had already gone to sleep as I did my task late at night, and I knew I couldn't wake him up to help me out. From past years' experience, I knew that I'd always call, "Honey, could you come here please? I can't remember where everything goes and how to put everything back in the fridge [that's without referring to the food in the fridge!]." I was dreading that this year I'd stumble over the same stumbling block, but lo and behold, I DID IT, and without difficulty! What accounted for the smoothness of it all this time around? I didn't change my ways -- I didn't take a shelf out, wash it, and immediately replace it, which one would think is the logical way of treating this weakness of mine, ie. one step at a time; complete it; go on to next step. No, I took out all items at once, and then put them back one after another.
Okay, so something helped me along -- perhaps I had to compensate for lack of sleep by being acutely "sharp" this time. Who knows? But if you'd like to hand me that road map of California, maybe I could refold it for you...?
*****************
May your reliving of the Jews' exodus from Egypt by retelling the story of the Haggadah be most meaningful for you and your family. Hope every one of you Jewish readers can send me a post card from your seder, saying, "Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here!"
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Cheap Thrills!
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Love ya, Blogger, hate ya, Blogger... (yes, I lost my fabulous post; recover post didn't work; now I have to re-create it)
Everyone has his or her declared cheap thrills. I'm often living vicariously through family or friends who travel, so why not also through objects that travel...?
Amazon.com is my friend. Last December I ordered a birthday/Chanukah gift for a brother of mine who lives in Boston. I was a newbie at ordering online, but once I discovered the track-your-package system, I was hooked. My order wasn't a high priority, needing second-day delivery, so I let the package have a field day, run its course, while I watched from the sidelines.
You'd think a big U.S. city has its own distribution center for books and gift items, but no...o....o. I watched as this package traveled through Tennessee and West Virginia and and about five other points before it finally reached the intended recipient.
All along I was imagining the package as it changed trucks, passed through several hands, perhaps whizzing past tourist attractions while riding along the interstate and city streets.
I recently placed another order with Amazon.com and have been happily watching the package trek through desert country of the West Coast en route to its final destination. I'm thinking of the parcel sweltering in the back of a transport truck as the truck weaves in and out of traffic, in and out of states.
The package should make its way to the recipient any day now...
"Hey, there's a UPS truck parked outside, and the guy is getting out and walking this way... A package for me? Wonder who it could be from..."
Fellow blogger A Simple Jew http://asimplejew.blogspot.com posts today about a new pair of tefillin that he got. He'd ordered them from a sofer in Jerusalem, and anxiously tracked them as the package made its way from Israel, across the ocean and to his house in the States. That truly was a holy and dear package being delivered to him, and to be able to track it was exciting.
I think that Amazon.com will be my friend for a while. Think of all the money I'm saving in airline fares and cross-country bus tickets while just sitting in front of a computer screen and living vicariously through a package's many stops. See how far some $9.00+ in S&H can take me...?
I guess this is what they call being "an armchair traveler"!
*****************************
Not that I'll be traveling anywhere, except probably far away from my computer for the next several days -- I'll have to PASSOVER my e-mails and my blog posts.
To all my Jewish friends, Chag Samech. I wish you and yours a very Happy and Healthy Passover -- tell lots of good tales, eat lots of good food and we'll see you next week.
One more thing: "Next Year in Jerusalem!" (wonder how much that'll cost in Amazon.com dollars to get there...)
Love ya, Blogger, hate ya, Blogger... (yes, I lost my fabulous post; recover post didn't work; now I have to re-create it)
Everyone has his or her declared cheap thrills. I'm often living vicariously through family or friends who travel, so why not also through objects that travel...?
Amazon.com is my friend. Last December I ordered a birthday/Chanukah gift for a brother of mine who lives in Boston. I was a newbie at ordering online, but once I discovered the track-your-package system, I was hooked. My order wasn't a high priority, needing second-day delivery, so I let the package have a field day, run its course, while I watched from the sidelines.
You'd think a big U.S. city has its own distribution center for books and gift items, but no...o....o. I watched as this package traveled through Tennessee and West Virginia and and about five other points before it finally reached the intended recipient.
All along I was imagining the package as it changed trucks, passed through several hands, perhaps whizzing past tourist attractions while riding along the interstate and city streets.
I recently placed another order with Amazon.com and have been happily watching the package trek through desert country of the West Coast en route to its final destination. I'm thinking of the parcel sweltering in the back of a transport truck as the truck weaves in and out of traffic, in and out of states.
The package should make its way to the recipient any day now...
"Hey, there's a UPS truck parked outside, and the guy is getting out and walking this way... A package for me? Wonder who it could be from..."
Fellow blogger A Simple Jew http://asimplejew.blogspot.com posts today about a new pair of tefillin that he got. He'd ordered them from a sofer in Jerusalem, and anxiously tracked them as the package made its way from Israel, across the ocean and to his house in the States. That truly was a holy and dear package being delivered to him, and to be able to track it was exciting.
I think that Amazon.com will be my friend for a while. Think of all the money I'm saving in airline fares and cross-country bus tickets while just sitting in front of a computer screen and living vicariously through a package's many stops. See how far some $9.00+ in S&H can take me...?
I guess this is what they call being "an armchair traveler"!
*****************************
Not that I'll be traveling anywhere, except probably far away from my computer for the next several days -- I'll have to PASSOVER my e-mails and my blog posts.
To all my Jewish friends, Chag Samech. I wish you and yours a very Happy and Healthy Passover -- tell lots of good tales, eat lots of good food and we'll see you next week.
One more thing: "Next Year in Jerusalem!" (wonder how much that'll cost in Amazon.com dollars to get there...)
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Comments, Anyone?
Blogroll Me!
Is this Bloggers Anonymous?
Yes, I wanted to say that I am addicted to reading blogs and posting.
But the truth of the matter is that oftentimes I find the comments section more entertaining than the actual posts that I read or write.
People are genuinely FUNNY, or sarcastic in an amusing way.
I get comments from TuesdayWishes http://layasplace.blogspot.com on my posts or I read her comments on PsychoToddler's http://www.psychotoddler.blogspot.com posts -- she is quite the witty one. And speaking of Sir PsychoToddler...just go on to his site and see the antics that often go on there.
I noticed some time ago that a Doctor Bean http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com would comment on PsychoToddler's posts, and sort of let loose, so I sought out his site. Turns out that he has a joint blog with a bunch of pals, and they post individually, some having his/her own following, and others just getting general responses. But oftentimes, pure fun permeates the air surrounding their blog and I've written to tell them so. Firstly, I tried to get Doctor Bean to have his own gig, minus the group, and just because he is so funny. But of course, being sensitive to the others, he didn't feel he could leave them behind in search of the spotlight for himself. But I've since learned that each of his Kerckhoff Coffeehouse pals can be equally funny, so they do belong together.
Yettabettaboo http://yettabettaboo.blogspot.com and Life-of-Rubin http://life-of-rubin.blogspot.com are funny bloggers/commenters, too. Perhaps not intentionally, but their deliveries are so straightforward, like a free association game, that I find them to be amusing...perhaps because they're so honest, telling it like it is -- in their own ways.
Treppenwitz http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz has a way with words, both in blogging and in commenting. Seek him out and you won't be sorry.... (look for him coming to a blog near you: PsychoToddler's, or Jack's Shack)
Jack's Shack http://wwwjackbenimble.blogspot.com hits the humor trail, too, with his blog and comments. I picture Jack as the attention-seeking class clown, who can sometimes become obnoxious or hit a nerve, but nonetheless can make us laugh, make us look inwards at ourselves as we look outward to the world.
Take a look around at the more general blogs, and see if I'm not correct -- that comments are almost like a post in themselves, in that they're entertaining the readers, and often a thread of discussion follows in the comments section.
Truth be told, that once I read a blog, and I see the air has been cleared in the comments section by someone else, and a jovial remark has been made, I feel freer to let loose, too. I just hope that these cutesie/seemingly funny comments of mine are acceptable, and readers or the blog owners aren't just rolling their eyes and saying, "There's TorontoPearl again...thinking she's funny..."
By the way, did you hear the one about the guy who walks into a bar and ---
Is this Bloggers Anonymous?
Yes, I wanted to say that I am addicted to reading blogs and posting.
But the truth of the matter is that oftentimes I find the comments section more entertaining than the actual posts that I read or write.
People are genuinely FUNNY, or sarcastic in an amusing way.
I get comments from TuesdayWishes http://layasplace.blogspot.com on my posts or I read her comments on PsychoToddler's http://www.psychotoddler.blogspot.com posts -- she is quite the witty one. And speaking of Sir PsychoToddler...just go on to his site and see the antics that often go on there.
I noticed some time ago that a Doctor Bean http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com would comment on PsychoToddler's posts, and sort of let loose, so I sought out his site. Turns out that he has a joint blog with a bunch of pals, and they post individually, some having his/her own following, and others just getting general responses. But oftentimes, pure fun permeates the air surrounding their blog and I've written to tell them so. Firstly, I tried to get Doctor Bean to have his own gig, minus the group, and just because he is so funny. But of course, being sensitive to the others, he didn't feel he could leave them behind in search of the spotlight for himself. But I've since learned that each of his Kerckhoff Coffeehouse pals can be equally funny, so they do belong together.
Yettabettaboo http://yettabettaboo.blogspot.com and Life-of-Rubin http://life-of-rubin.blogspot.com are funny bloggers/commenters, too. Perhaps not intentionally, but their deliveries are so straightforward, like a free association game, that I find them to be amusing...perhaps because they're so honest, telling it like it is -- in their own ways.
Treppenwitz http://bogieworks.blogs.com/treppenwitz has a way with words, both in blogging and in commenting. Seek him out and you won't be sorry.... (look for him coming to a blog near you: PsychoToddler's, or Jack's Shack)
Jack's Shack http://wwwjackbenimble.blogspot.com hits the humor trail, too, with his blog and comments. I picture Jack as the attention-seeking class clown, who can sometimes become obnoxious or hit a nerve, but nonetheless can make us laugh, make us look inwards at ourselves as we look outward to the world.
Take a look around at the more general blogs, and see if I'm not correct -- that comments are almost like a post in themselves, in that they're entertaining the readers, and often a thread of discussion follows in the comments section.
Truth be told, that once I read a blog, and I see the air has been cleared in the comments section by someone else, and a jovial remark has been made, I feel freer to let loose, too. I just hope that these cutesie/seemingly funny comments of mine are acceptable, and readers or the blog owners aren't just rolling their eyes and saying, "There's TorontoPearl again...thinking she's funny..."
By the way, did you hear the one about the guy who walks into a bar and ---
Don't Look Now...
Blogroll Me!
...but your age is showing!
And such is how my husband and I feel when we are at a school function. At ages 45 and 43 and our oldest child not yet ten, we feel like the bubbies and zaydies of the school...compared to the babies that abound. And thus our parents must feel like the great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers of the school.
When you live in an Orthodox environment, and you are a relatively late bloomer, you're most aware of the fact. And the truth is, that this "older than thou" knowledge doesn't just stay within the perimeters of the school, but we see it at our shuls, in my children's extracurricular activites when we speak to other parents, etc.
Age is only a number, and I don't feel my age, but when I'm faced with moms who are ten years my junior and have children the same age, or moms who are my age, but whose youngest child is going on ten years old, then 43 stares me in the face.
I asked a mom today at my children's swimming lessons what years she attended a particular girls' high school in Toronto -- all I had to hear what the first number 1983 and didn't even need to listen beyond that. I told her that I'd graduated UNIVERSITY in 1983.
Yes, age is my own hangup, no doubt; nobody is trying to make me feel old. And G-d willing, in spite of the gray hairs that rear their ugly head every now and again, my three young children will keep me and my husband young, as well!
...but your age is showing!
And such is how my husband and I feel when we are at a school function. At ages 45 and 43 and our oldest child not yet ten, we feel like the bubbies and zaydies of the school...compared to the babies that abound. And thus our parents must feel like the great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers of the school.
When you live in an Orthodox environment, and you are a relatively late bloomer, you're most aware of the fact. And the truth is, that this "older than thou" knowledge doesn't just stay within the perimeters of the school, but we see it at our shuls, in my children's extracurricular activites when we speak to other parents, etc.
Age is only a number, and I don't feel my age, but when I'm faced with moms who are ten years my junior and have children the same age, or moms who are my age, but whose youngest child is going on ten years old, then 43 stares me in the face.
I asked a mom today at my children's swimming lessons what years she attended a particular girls' high school in Toronto -- all I had to hear what the first number 1983 and didn't even need to listen beyond that. I told her that I'd graduated UNIVERSITY in 1983.
Yes, age is my own hangup, no doubt; nobody is trying to make me feel old. And G-d willing, in spite of the gray hairs that rear their ugly head every now and again, my three young children will keep me and my husband young, as well!
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Me....ow....w.....w...... Hiss....sssss.......
Blogroll Me!
Girls, girls girls. Doesn't the blog title give it away?
Today for Shabbat I had my three kids at home, and four "extra" kids-- my older son had a friend sleep over, my youngest son had a friend come for lunch and spend the afternoon, and my middle child, my daughter, had two girlfriends come for lunch and spend the rest of the day.
I am fascinated by children, by their actions, by their priorities, by their conversations and especially by the dynamics. Yes, I was once a kid (sometimes still behave like one, too) but I was different than my children. I mostly had neighborhood children to play with, because I was quite a loner at school for many years. L'havdil, thank G-d my children are outgoing, social, involved, and athletic.
I am more than pleased to watch how they interact with their friends because at times I think I am living vicariously through them. My daughter is quite the social butterfly and I find that since kindergarten, when she started attending her school, her social life has exceeded mine-- she's only in grade two, but her calendar is rather full.
But I watch these seven- and eight-year-old girls and wonder at some of their behaviors. They are fickle, they are catty, they are petulant, there are egocentric. And many of them turn out to be just plain mean!
Of course I want to protect A. from the meanness, the bullying that I see often runs rampant in its own way among socializing skills, but I'm also sometimes at a loss as to what to say, as I'm sure my mother was at a loss to say to me on those many times I'd come home crying because kids or girls "were mean to me." I had no sisters, I was a loner for many years, so I didn't really know for the earliest years what it meant to have girlfriends -- yes, I was friendly to everyone, but I was shy, and that held me back in many ways.
Yes, I should allow behaviors to develop or change over years, but I can foresee that several of my daughter's peers will be as mean and as catty in 10 - 15 years as they are today. Many of them take after their mothers, I suppose, so their mothers might not see anything wrong in their daughters' behaviors. But I see it, and oftentimes just have to keep my mouth shut about it, or complain to my husband, or just try to have my daughter keep different company.
When A. was in SK, I was already forewarned: "Her grade -- the girls in her grade -- are a tough bunch." But sadly, "forewarned" does not necessarily mean "forearmed"...
Girls, girls girls. Doesn't the blog title give it away?
Today for Shabbat I had my three kids at home, and four "extra" kids-- my older son had a friend sleep over, my youngest son had a friend come for lunch and spend the afternoon, and my middle child, my daughter, had two girlfriends come for lunch and spend the rest of the day.
I am fascinated by children, by their actions, by their priorities, by their conversations and especially by the dynamics. Yes, I was once a kid (sometimes still behave like one, too) but I was different than my children. I mostly had neighborhood children to play with, because I was quite a loner at school for many years. L'havdil, thank G-d my children are outgoing, social, involved, and athletic.
I am more than pleased to watch how they interact with their friends because at times I think I am living vicariously through them. My daughter is quite the social butterfly and I find that since kindergarten, when she started attending her school, her social life has exceeded mine-- she's only in grade two, but her calendar is rather full.
But I watch these seven- and eight-year-old girls and wonder at some of their behaviors. They are fickle, they are catty, they are petulant, there are egocentric. And many of them turn out to be just plain mean!
Of course I want to protect A. from the meanness, the bullying that I see often runs rampant in its own way among socializing skills, but I'm also sometimes at a loss as to what to say, as I'm sure my mother was at a loss to say to me on those many times I'd come home crying because kids or girls "were mean to me." I had no sisters, I was a loner for many years, so I didn't really know for the earliest years what it meant to have girlfriends -- yes, I was friendly to everyone, but I was shy, and that held me back in many ways.
Yes, I should allow behaviors to develop or change over years, but I can foresee that several of my daughter's peers will be as mean and as catty in 10 - 15 years as they are today. Many of them take after their mothers, I suppose, so their mothers might not see anything wrong in their daughters' behaviors. But I see it, and oftentimes just have to keep my mouth shut about it, or complain to my husband, or just try to have my daughter keep different company.
When A. was in SK, I was already forewarned: "Her grade -- the girls in her grade -- are a tough bunch." But sadly, "forewarned" does not necessarily mean "forearmed"...
Friday, April 15, 2005
Life Is a Mystery...
Blogroll Me!
In the world of fiction writing
few make it to the top,
but if they reach the pinnacle
they hope success won't stop.
And farther down, below on ground,
the readers stand and stare,
hoping their favorite gifted writers
will remain atop, up there.
Now one of these fine wordsmiths
likes to drop hints in all her books --
if it's mysteries that intrigue you
pick up hers and take a look.
Visit with a modern Orthodox Jewish sleuth
Molly Blume is the character's name,
she'll help you get over your BLUES IN THE NIGHT
but there might be GRAVE ENDINGS all the same.
Or perhaps you're in need of a DREAM HOUSE,
in which you can take pride,
but beware of all the dangers
which could be lurking there inside.
And then there is the Jessie Drake series
featuring several wonderful titles
and this author also has numerous stand-alone books
which have kept her fans in smiles.
It's time that I remove the veil of secrecy
and share this author's name
because with my Pearlies of Wisdom blog
I hope to bring her more fame.
Rochelle Krich would be the author you seek
her titles you'll want to buy
she's already won a Calavera Award
so why not give her books a try?
If you seek more info about this author
please visit her at her site
www.rochellekrich.com is the place to go
whether it's morning, noon or night.
And believe it or not, she keeps a blog
just like this one on your screen
you can link to it via her web site
so you can see in fact what I mean.
Rochelle has an interesting name for her blog
which captures everything and more
"News, Views and Shmooze" is what you'll Google
then go and read it and learn what's in store...
In the world of fiction writing
few make it to the top,
but if they reach the pinnacle
they hope success won't stop.
And farther down, below on ground,
the readers stand and stare,
hoping their favorite gifted writers
will remain atop, up there.
Now one of these fine wordsmiths
likes to drop hints in all her books --
if it's mysteries that intrigue you
pick up hers and take a look.
Visit with a modern Orthodox Jewish sleuth
Molly Blume is the character's name,
she'll help you get over your BLUES IN THE NIGHT
but there might be GRAVE ENDINGS all the same.
Or perhaps you're in need of a DREAM HOUSE,
in which you can take pride,
but beware of all the dangers
which could be lurking there inside.
And then there is the Jessie Drake series
featuring several wonderful titles
and this author also has numerous stand-alone books
which have kept her fans in smiles.
It's time that I remove the veil of secrecy
and share this author's name
because with my Pearlies of Wisdom blog
I hope to bring her more fame.
Rochelle Krich would be the author you seek
her titles you'll want to buy
she's already won a Calavera Award
so why not give her books a try?
If you seek more info about this author
please visit her at her site
www.rochellekrich.com is the place to go
whether it's morning, noon or night.
And believe it or not, she keeps a blog
just like this one on your screen
you can link to it via her web site
so you can see in fact what I mean.
Rochelle has an interesting name for her blog
which captures everything and more
"News, Views and Shmooze" is what you'll Google
then go and read it and learn what's in store...
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
The Haunting
Blogroll Me!
I've made an interesting personal observation with regards to blogging and visiting other blogs. I have my regular 10 - 12 sites that I like to visit, and as I've mentioned in an earlier post, I visit more them than once or twice a day. (as you'll notice in your site meters, if you care about that sort of thing.) Primarily I'm checking if there are new posts and/or comments being added to the last post.
It seems to me that those other fellow bloggers whom I like to visit have already been onto the current post I'm viewing, have already commented, and if I come back later in the day to re-visit, it's apparent they have, too, as they have left more than one comment.
It's like I belong to a benevolent society/landsmanschaft -- I might not get to all the meetings, but when I do get to one, it's already taken place! The members have come and gone, and all that's left for me to do is read the minutes of the meeting I missed!
I've made an interesting personal observation with regards to blogging and visiting other blogs. I have my regular 10 - 12 sites that I like to visit, and as I've mentioned in an earlier post, I visit more them than once or twice a day. (as you'll notice in your site meters, if you care about that sort of thing.) Primarily I'm checking if there are new posts and/or comments being added to the last post.
It seems to me that those other fellow bloggers whom I like to visit have already been onto the current post I'm viewing, have already commented, and if I come back later in the day to re-visit, it's apparent they have, too, as they have left more than one comment.
It's like I belong to a benevolent society/landsmanschaft -- I might not get to all the meetings, but when I do get to one, it's already taken place! The members have come and gone, and all that's left for me to do is read the minutes of the meeting I missed!
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
The Check Is in the Mail
Blogroll Me!
Are there any literary folks out there who read this (yes, InkAsRain, I know you do)? If so, I'd like to ask a question: Do any of you who write, as I do, and want to submit your work to competitions pay for the privilege of doing so? There are competitions that say entry fee for 1st item is $15, subsequent items are $10.
Of course, the monies collected end up being the prize winnings for the winners, but I do not like to submit my writing anywhere that I have to pay. I would like the judges to pay ME for the privilege of reading my essays or my poetry.
These aren't necessarily little-known literary magazines that request money up front, either. Some major writers' organizations and well-respected publications ask for entry fees, too. But I'm sorry -- I just can't write a check for that. I might as well throw those U.S. or Canadian dollars down the toilet...not to say that I can't win a competition, just that I don't want to sign my name on the dotted line in order to do so!
Are there any literary folks out there who read this (yes, InkAsRain, I know you do)? If so, I'd like to ask a question: Do any of you who write, as I do, and want to submit your work to competitions pay for the privilege of doing so? There are competitions that say entry fee for 1st item is $15, subsequent items are $10.
Of course, the monies collected end up being the prize winnings for the winners, but I do not like to submit my writing anywhere that I have to pay. I would like the judges to pay ME for the privilege of reading my essays or my poetry.
These aren't necessarily little-known literary magazines that request money up front, either. Some major writers' organizations and well-respected publications ask for entry fees, too. But I'm sorry -- I just can't write a check for that. I might as well throw those U.S. or Canadian dollars down the toilet...not to say that I can't win a competition, just that I don't want to sign my name on the dotted line in order to do so!
Modern-Day Mating Call
Blogroll Me!
Rose Marie. 1936. Movie starring Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. He plays a Royal Canadian Mounted Police in the Canadian Rockies. Film known for its song, "The Indian Love Call," which features those lyrics, "When I'm calling you-oo-oo..." Hard to forget those angelic voices singing that song.
Lunchtime today. Mall parking lot. Going back to my car. Heading towards the vehicle, I click the remote to unlock the car door, and hear the familiar "beep, beep" reminiscent of The Road Runner. Responding deeper-sounding "BEEEEP,BEEEEP" sounds from several rows away.
Hey, I think to myself, is this the mating call of the twenty-first century? And then I mentally hear the refrains of "When I'm calling you-oo-oo..."
Rose Marie. 1936. Movie starring Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy. He plays a Royal Canadian Mounted Police in the Canadian Rockies. Film known for its song, "The Indian Love Call," which features those lyrics, "When I'm calling you-oo-oo..." Hard to forget those angelic voices singing that song.
Lunchtime today. Mall parking lot. Going back to my car. Heading towards the vehicle, I click the remote to unlock the car door, and hear the familiar "beep, beep" reminiscent of The Road Runner. Responding deeper-sounding "BEEEEP,BEEEEP" sounds from several rows away.
Hey, I think to myself, is this the mating call of the twenty-first century? And then I mentally hear the refrains of "When I'm calling you-oo-oo..."
Reality Speaks
Blogroll Me!
Yes, blogging is a free-form expression, but oftentimes it's just so frivolous. We touch upon surfaces, never delving too deeply because either we want to maintain our secret identities or it's just too damn hard to do so -- our words that have been floating in our heads and in our hearts don't necessarily want to see the light of day. But sometimes they do...
www.seraphicpress.com
Seraphic Sleep(less)
It is 2:30 AM, and I cannot sleep because Karen is dreaming of Ariel; she moans in her sleep from wounds that will never heal. Three times before we went to bed, Karen, with tears slipping from her eyes, said to me: "Where is he? Where is Ariel?" Of course I had no answer and Karen does not expect one, but still, I feel that I should have something to say besides, "I don't know, I just don't know."
It is 2:35 AM, and I cannot sleep because Offspring Number Three has just learned that her close, close friend who lives in NY is very ill and -- for God's sake, my child has already lost her brother. Must she endure it all over again? Every so often a well-meaning idiot will tell me that "God never gives us more than we can bear." When I hear this outrageous cliche I really feel like punching the person who says it. Where did they get such a stupid idea? In fact, HaShem gives us more than we can bear on a daily basis. Yes, we manage to live through these terrible experiences, we manage to endure, to survive, but we are never the same, and we are often diminished by the suffering, irrevocably harmed. I do not believe that suffering is noble or holy; it is just awful.
It is 2:40 AM, and I cannot sleep because Karen is preparing for Pesach and every shelf cleaned, every corner mopped, every book opened and dusted for crumbs only brings home the fact that Ariel will not be sitting at the Passover seder with us. He will not be reliving the Exodus from Egypt with us. He will not be explaining to us his sharp and penetrating insights into the Haggadah. He will not be smiling at the Passover table, enjoying this wonderful holiday. Ariel's last Pesach was in the hospital, in the ICU where he was forced to celebrate the seder behind an oxygen mask, and our Passover table was that little slab of formica on wheels that's hardly big enough for two matzos. We recited the whole Hagaddah, but it was an effort for him and at the end, he fell back into an exhausted sleep.
It is 2:45 AM, and I cannot sleep because David, Karen's brother was just here in LA with his lovely daughter Jennifer. They live in Israel and they are deeply concerned about the plan to withdraw from Gaza. David knows what anyone with half a brain knows, which is that no good can come from this withdrawl. The Arabs will see it as just the first in a series of retreats designed to destroy the state of Israel. Does no one realize that when the Arabs speak of so-called occupied territories they are not talking about Judea and Samarian, they are, in fact, talking about the entire state of Israel? I read the Arab press. They don't even bother to disguisee their genicidal plans.
It is 2:50 AM, and I cannot sleep because numerous sleazy professors at Columbia University have built a Middle Eastern Studies department on a foundation of lies, anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism, and anti-Americanism. And there are still people in my shul who are paying over fifty thousand dollars a year for the priveledge of sending their children to this corrupt institution. Are Jews so starved for status that they actually see nothing wrong with paying the salaries of the children of Edward Said?
It is 2:55 AM, and I cannot sleep because I am writing two scripts under intense deadline pressure and I have not been spending as much time as I should writing the next volume of The Hebrew Kid. I'm also afraid that I will never be able to make the second book as good as the first. I wrote The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maidedn while Ariel was still alive. He helped me. He inspired me. He made me a better writer with his criticism and insights. But now he is gone and I suspect that I'm not as good a writer anymore. Without him, my imagination stalls.
It is 3:00 AM, and I cannot sleep becasue I am sitting in the dark in my bedroom with my computer on my lap typing this blog. I am afraid to go to sleep because I dream of Ariel most every night and when I wake up my face is wet with tears.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at April 12, 2005 02:24 AM
Yes, blogging is a free-form expression, but oftentimes it's just so frivolous. We touch upon surfaces, never delving too deeply because either we want to maintain our secret identities or it's just too damn hard to do so -- our words that have been floating in our heads and in our hearts don't necessarily want to see the light of day. But sometimes they do...
www.seraphicpress.com
Seraphic Sleep(less)
It is 2:30 AM, and I cannot sleep because Karen is dreaming of Ariel; she moans in her sleep from wounds that will never heal. Three times before we went to bed, Karen, with tears slipping from her eyes, said to me: "Where is he? Where is Ariel?" Of course I had no answer and Karen does not expect one, but still, I feel that I should have something to say besides, "I don't know, I just don't know."
It is 2:35 AM, and I cannot sleep because Offspring Number Three has just learned that her close, close friend who lives in NY is very ill and -- for God's sake, my child has already lost her brother. Must she endure it all over again? Every so often a well-meaning idiot will tell me that "God never gives us more than we can bear." When I hear this outrageous cliche I really feel like punching the person who says it. Where did they get such a stupid idea? In fact, HaShem gives us more than we can bear on a daily basis. Yes, we manage to live through these terrible experiences, we manage to endure, to survive, but we are never the same, and we are often diminished by the suffering, irrevocably harmed. I do not believe that suffering is noble or holy; it is just awful.
It is 2:40 AM, and I cannot sleep because Karen is preparing for Pesach and every shelf cleaned, every corner mopped, every book opened and dusted for crumbs only brings home the fact that Ariel will not be sitting at the Passover seder with us. He will not be reliving the Exodus from Egypt with us. He will not be explaining to us his sharp and penetrating insights into the Haggadah. He will not be smiling at the Passover table, enjoying this wonderful holiday. Ariel's last Pesach was in the hospital, in the ICU where he was forced to celebrate the seder behind an oxygen mask, and our Passover table was that little slab of formica on wheels that's hardly big enough for two matzos. We recited the whole Hagaddah, but it was an effort for him and at the end, he fell back into an exhausted sleep.
It is 2:45 AM, and I cannot sleep because David, Karen's brother was just here in LA with his lovely daughter Jennifer. They live in Israel and they are deeply concerned about the plan to withdraw from Gaza. David knows what anyone with half a brain knows, which is that no good can come from this withdrawl. The Arabs will see it as just the first in a series of retreats designed to destroy the state of Israel. Does no one realize that when the Arabs speak of so-called occupied territories they are not talking about Judea and Samarian, they are, in fact, talking about the entire state of Israel? I read the Arab press. They don't even bother to disguisee their genicidal plans.
It is 2:50 AM, and I cannot sleep because numerous sleazy professors at Columbia University have built a Middle Eastern Studies department on a foundation of lies, anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism, and anti-Americanism. And there are still people in my shul who are paying over fifty thousand dollars a year for the priveledge of sending their children to this corrupt institution. Are Jews so starved for status that they actually see nothing wrong with paying the salaries of the children of Edward Said?
It is 2:55 AM, and I cannot sleep because I am writing two scripts under intense deadline pressure and I have not been spending as much time as I should writing the next volume of The Hebrew Kid. I'm also afraid that I will never be able to make the second book as good as the first. I wrote The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maidedn while Ariel was still alive. He helped me. He inspired me. He made me a better writer with his criticism and insights. But now he is gone and I suspect that I'm not as good a writer anymore. Without him, my imagination stalls.
It is 3:00 AM, and I cannot sleep becasue I am sitting in the dark in my bedroom with my computer on my lap typing this blog. I am afraid to go to sleep because I dream of Ariel most every night and when I wake up my face is wet with tears.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at April 12, 2005 02:24 AM
An Eishet Chayil Diamond
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Unfortunately, earlier this evening, my husband and I had to go to a shiva house (a Jewish house of mourning) -- a friend of ours had lost his father last week, and we went to comfort the mourners and for my husband to daven.
I didn't know this friend's father nor his mother all that well. Sometimes we were together as guests at a Yom Tov or Shabbos table, but I'd only met the parents in total maybe half a dozen times in the 11 years that I know the son and daughter-in-law.
The man who passed away unfortunately had been suffering from the slowly disabilitating Parkinson's disease for the past five years or so. Little by little the symptoms showed themselves and the man started to need extra help for the little daily things we take so for granted. Help getting dressed, help bathing, help eating, help shaving, eventually help standing up and sitting down...because of the rigid stance that accompanies the disease.
This evening, however, I learned of the quality of life that this man had, thanks to his lovely wife, his true eishet chayil (woman of valor). They began to have some hired help, nurse's aides in the latter days, but all along the wife helped her husband keep to his familiar and daily routines. She announced to myself and another woman at the shiva: "I even helped him lain tefillin." The other woman asked, "You knew how to do that?" "No," was the reply. "My husband taught me...and so I did it for him all the time."
I was floored -- yes, such a familiar task to men from the time they turn thirteen years of age, a routine, although a bit difficult at first, that becomes second nature. Never did it occur to me that someone who wants to continue to lead the quality of Jewish life that he has led, who wants to follow this commandment of tefillin, but is somewhat handicapped to do so, should need the rudimentary help. For a wife to learn how to lain tefillin so her husband can continue the mitzvah is a most beautiful thing. I was deeply touched by this woman's fortitude and resolve to help her husband in such elemental ways.
She married someone with the last name Diamond, and in her earliest days of marriage after the second world war, she might have been a Diamond in the rough. But after so many years of a life together, and such a demonstrated dedication to her husband, she proved herself to be a most polished, refined diamond, complete with Clarity for what needed to be done for her husband and doing it. A true eishet chayil.
May Moishe Diamond's memory be for a blessing, and may his neshama have an aliyah. And may his dear wife continue to be strong, and healthy, and live to continue to see much naches from her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Unfortunately, earlier this evening, my husband and I had to go to a shiva house (a Jewish house of mourning) -- a friend of ours had lost his father last week, and we went to comfort the mourners and for my husband to daven.
I didn't know this friend's father nor his mother all that well. Sometimes we were together as guests at a Yom Tov or Shabbos table, but I'd only met the parents in total maybe half a dozen times in the 11 years that I know the son and daughter-in-law.
The man who passed away unfortunately had been suffering from the slowly disabilitating Parkinson's disease for the past five years or so. Little by little the symptoms showed themselves and the man started to need extra help for the little daily things we take so for granted. Help getting dressed, help bathing, help eating, help shaving, eventually help standing up and sitting down...because of the rigid stance that accompanies the disease.
This evening, however, I learned of the quality of life that this man had, thanks to his lovely wife, his true eishet chayil (woman of valor). They began to have some hired help, nurse's aides in the latter days, but all along the wife helped her husband keep to his familiar and daily routines. She announced to myself and another woman at the shiva: "I even helped him lain tefillin." The other woman asked, "You knew how to do that?" "No," was the reply. "My husband taught me...and so I did it for him all the time."
I was floored -- yes, such a familiar task to men from the time they turn thirteen years of age, a routine, although a bit difficult at first, that becomes second nature. Never did it occur to me that someone who wants to continue to lead the quality of Jewish life that he has led, who wants to follow this commandment of tefillin, but is somewhat handicapped to do so, should need the rudimentary help. For a wife to learn how to lain tefillin so her husband can continue the mitzvah is a most beautiful thing. I was deeply touched by this woman's fortitude and resolve to help her husband in such elemental ways.
She married someone with the last name Diamond, and in her earliest days of marriage after the second world war, she might have been a Diamond in the rough. But after so many years of a life together, and such a demonstrated dedication to her husband, she proved herself to be a most polished, refined diamond, complete with Clarity for what needed to be done for her husband and doing it. A true eishet chayil.
May Moishe Diamond's memory be for a blessing, and may his neshama have an aliyah. And may his dear wife continue to be strong, and healthy, and live to continue to see much naches from her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Google Thyself
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When the Internet became accessible to us at work a few years ago, I was thrilled. Of course I used Internet at home after hours, but I love to research and fact-check and just plain surf, and on company time, even better! ;)
One day my co-worker said to me: "I Googled your name." At that point in time I had no clue what Google was, as I'd been an Ask Jeeves fan, so I needed an explanation. She told me she was using the Google search engine and just plugged in people's names out of curiosity.
So I did the same. WOW, I actually found my name there in relation to an online thread I'd been part of with regards to my family genealogy. Over the years, I've Googled my name and have come up with a number of different sources that I'm linked to. Google has picked me up by my first name and maiden name; first name, maiden name and married name; first name and married name; and my blogging name.
I really don't care how fast I'm linked to references with my name, and whether or not there are countless references. But it's interesting for me to see how my name has been linked: genealogy threads, contest topic suggestions for writers' associations, reader suggestions for magazines, guest books I've visited and signed, articles I've written and have published.
Now the next time I Google myself, I might just find the link to this post!
When the Internet became accessible to us at work a few years ago, I was thrilled. Of course I used Internet at home after hours, but I love to research and fact-check and just plain surf, and on company time, even better! ;)
One day my co-worker said to me: "I Googled your name." At that point in time I had no clue what Google was, as I'd been an Ask Jeeves fan, so I needed an explanation. She told me she was using the Google search engine and just plugged in people's names out of curiosity.
So I did the same. WOW, I actually found my name there in relation to an online thread I'd been part of with regards to my family genealogy. Over the years, I've Googled my name and have come up with a number of different sources that I'm linked to. Google has picked me up by my first name and maiden name; first name, maiden name and married name; first name and married name; and my blogging name.
I really don't care how fast I'm linked to references with my name, and whether or not there are countless references. But it's interesting for me to see how my name has been linked: genealogy threads, contest topic suggestions for writers' associations, reader suggestions for magazines, guest books I've visited and signed, articles I've written and have published.
Now the next time I Google myself, I might just find the link to this post!
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Copacetic
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Since I was a little girl, I was always impressed with people who used "big words"--they sounded intellectual, interesting, and whether or not they used their big words correctly wouldn't have mattered to me because I usually didn't know the difference.
I was a voracious reader while growing up, but was too often lazy to reach for the dictionary for words I was reading whose meaning I didn't understand, and so I just guessed the meaning in context. But in university and in my job as copy editor, I learned I really needed to use a dictionary to get the correct meaning.
It seems to me, and I was discussing this the other day with an editor, that we (he and I) use "big" words when we write, rather than when we talk. Neither he nor I could account for the difference, but it's been the pattern we've seen develop.
These days, I'm always looking to find a new word to use in my writing or in my conversations. And I came across one that sort of turned my head...
Some time ago, I yelled over to my fellow copy editor (who happens to use a lovely vocabulary) over the "walls" of our "offices," "How are you?" and heard her answer with this: "Copacetic." "What did you say?" I asked back. "Copacetic" was her reply.
I thought to myself: "Where does Val [a non-Jew] know Hebrew from?" I was impressed, got up, went around the wall, and said "How did you know to answer me in Hebrew, and correctly?"
"What Hebrew? I said c-o-p-a-c-e-t-i-c."
"Ohhhh," I said, blushing two shades of red. "It sounded to me as if you'd said 'Kol b'seder,' which means 'everything is okay'. "
I looked up the definition in Webster's and saw this for copacetic: adj. (origin unknown), very satisfactory. Okay, Hebrew speakers, tell me that "copacetic" doesn't sound a lot like "{ha}kol b'seder". With its origins being unknown, perhaps it does stem from the Hebrew language...
In any case, I hope that everything in your life is c-o-p-a-c-e-t-i-c.
Since I was a little girl, I was always impressed with people who used "big words"--they sounded intellectual, interesting, and whether or not they used their big words correctly wouldn't have mattered to me because I usually didn't know the difference.
I was a voracious reader while growing up, but was too often lazy to reach for the dictionary for words I was reading whose meaning I didn't understand, and so I just guessed the meaning in context. But in university and in my job as copy editor, I learned I really needed to use a dictionary to get the correct meaning.
It seems to me, and I was discussing this the other day with an editor, that we (he and I) use "big" words when we write, rather than when we talk. Neither he nor I could account for the difference, but it's been the pattern we've seen develop.
These days, I'm always looking to find a new word to use in my writing or in my conversations. And I came across one that sort of turned my head...
Some time ago, I yelled over to my fellow copy editor (who happens to use a lovely vocabulary) over the "walls" of our "offices," "How are you?" and heard her answer with this: "Copacetic." "What did you say?" I asked back. "Copacetic" was her reply.
I thought to myself: "Where does Val [a non-Jew] know Hebrew from?" I was impressed, got up, went around the wall, and said "How did you know to answer me in Hebrew, and correctly?"
"What Hebrew? I said c-o-p-a-c-e-t-i-c."
"Ohhhh," I said, blushing two shades of red. "It sounded to me as if you'd said 'Kol b'seder,' which means 'everything is okay'. "
I looked up the definition in Webster's and saw this for copacetic: adj. (origin unknown), very satisfactory. Okay, Hebrew speakers, tell me that "copacetic" doesn't sound a lot like "{ha}kol b'seder". With its origins being unknown, perhaps it does stem from the Hebrew language...
In any case, I hope that everything in your life is c-o-p-a-c-e-t-i-c.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
"The Thrill Is Gone...the Thrill Has Gone Away...."
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Mr. B.B. King, noted blues guitarist, made those lyrics famous quite a number of years ago. And I couldn't help but have them come to mind today in relation to blogging.
I discovered, without getting into details, that blogging and "virtual" personalities can get pretty ugly, just like in the real world. People can become very catty, downright mean for no real reason. Who am I, but a stranger forming an opinion, and having a preconception of a particular someone based on that someone's bright or smooth posts. Up until recently, it's been a positive POV I had, but lately, I just don't know what to think. I think I've had good reason to speak my mind and express some concern in a nice way, and once again it backfires...just like that grade school incident mentioned a few posts down.
I've sort of been left with a bad taste in my mouth, and like B.B. King sings, "The thrill is gone...."
Perhaps I just don't have much to say anymore -- after all, I did admit my world is pretty small -- or maybe it's just that perhaps whatever I choose to say might get shot down or attacked in an unkind way from a fellow blogger.
Up until now, my keeping a blog has reawakened my writing channels, giving me a much-needed creative exercise, opening my thought processes, as well. But today I felt pretty disillusioned because of this personal blogging incident.
Maybe it's time to sit back for a while from writing my own posts; maybe it's time I just haunt yours...
Mr. B.B. King, noted blues guitarist, made those lyrics famous quite a number of years ago. And I couldn't help but have them come to mind today in relation to blogging.
I discovered, without getting into details, that blogging and "virtual" personalities can get pretty ugly, just like in the real world. People can become very catty, downright mean for no real reason. Who am I, but a stranger forming an opinion, and having a preconception of a particular someone based on that someone's bright or smooth posts. Up until recently, it's been a positive POV I had, but lately, I just don't know what to think. I think I've had good reason to speak my mind and express some concern in a nice way, and once again it backfires...just like that grade school incident mentioned a few posts down.
I've sort of been left with a bad taste in my mouth, and like B.B. King sings, "The thrill is gone...."
Perhaps I just don't have much to say anymore -- after all, I did admit my world is pretty small -- or maybe it's just that perhaps whatever I choose to say might get shot down or attacked in an unkind way from a fellow blogger.
Up until now, my keeping a blog has reawakened my writing channels, giving me a much-needed creative exercise, opening my thought processes, as well. But today I felt pretty disillusioned because of this personal blogging incident.
Maybe it's time to sit back for a while from writing my own posts; maybe it's time I just haunt yours...
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Blogger, Get Yourself a Timex Watch, if not a Rolex!
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Among my many pet peeves with Blogger, aside from its screwing up my posts on a regular basis and sending them into oblivion, I can't understand that it doesn't know how to tell the time!
My last post was started just after 1:00 a.m., but I completed it, ready for posting, at about 1:50 -- one look at the Blogger time/date notation, and I still saw the 1:04 time. How come it doesn't want to keep time with me, and note the new hour when I finally post my message?
Has anyone noticed this problem with Blogger? Any solutions, aside from the obvious: make certain I look at the time/date BEFORE I post, just after I finished typing the message.
Okay, for interest's sake, I started this message at 1:52, but now it's 2:03! I am gonna make the change, okay?
Blogger,we can all pitch in and buy you a nice, working timepiece for your next job. Sound good...?
Among my many pet peeves with Blogger, aside from its screwing up my posts on a regular basis and sending them into oblivion, I can't understand that it doesn't know how to tell the time!
My last post was started just after 1:00 a.m., but I completed it, ready for posting, at about 1:50 -- one look at the Blogger time/date notation, and I still saw the 1:04 time. How come it doesn't want to keep time with me, and note the new hour when I finally post my message?
Has anyone noticed this problem with Blogger? Any solutions, aside from the obvious: make certain I look at the time/date BEFORE I post, just after I finished typing the message.
Okay, for interest's sake, I started this message at 1:52, but now it's 2:03! I am gonna make the change, okay?
Blogger,we can all pitch in and buy you a nice, working timepiece for your next job. Sound good...?
"In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning..."
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Carly Simon sings a beautiful version of that classic song, and I'm thinking about it now, after 1:00 a.m. as I sit at the computer typing away. Sleep has become somewhat evasive the past two nights, perhaps because of the time change and my usual late late hour of retiring for the night being thrown off; and I know that last night a horrible storm threw me off kilter as I lay in bed and listened to the howling wind and the beating of it against the window screen, wondering how many shingles would be found the next morning in the yard, having flown off the roof.
Tonight there's no real excuse for not falling readily asleep, save for my thoughts.
Thoughts are not always welcome; they invade when you don't want them to; or they flee -- as butterflies do when you try to capture them with a net.
Tonight I'm thinking a mixed bag: of conversations -- written and oral -- I had today with various people; of conflicts in my family summer plans with other family members' summer plans, and how best to resolve the situation to make both families happy; of where my writing ought to take me, but doesn't necessarily do so, perhaps because I'm not putting forth enough effort, or because it feels forced and unnatural.
I've also been thinking of former classmates and where they are today -- this for the reason that I visited my parents today and my mother gave me my class pictures from senior kindergarten to grade 6. I reviewed the photos with my husband and children, seeing if they could spot me (my five-year-old did a bang-up job with the assignment), pointing out other people familiar to them, telling them who was doing what, to the best of my current knowledge, and unfortunately acknowledging a couple of people who passed away at too young an age from tragic circumstances.
As children in these class photos that capture us from ages 5 through 11, we are bright-eyed, carefree in our life's responsibilites, perhaps temporarily squirming under the focused look of the photographer, but knowing that in a few minutes, after the "One, two, three, say 'Cheese' " has passed, we can once again relax, be the children we're supposed to be.
Many of us in those pictures have been rewarded with good careers, and a rich family life. And I knew that when my daughter pointed out one of the earliest pictures with me in it, and commented on this aspect, "I like this picture of you; it's your best smile!" I couldn't help but smile.
And although at moments like tonight, when some of my thoughts are heavier than others, seeming to weigh me down and keep me from relaxing into a sleep, I also smile because my family, my lifestyle, and my roots have made me who I am: a thinking, feeling person...who may sometimes lack a bit of sleep, but certainly does not lack in being loved by family and friends. Yes, a rich woman, indeed!
Carly Simon sings a beautiful version of that classic song, and I'm thinking about it now, after 1:00 a.m. as I sit at the computer typing away. Sleep has become somewhat evasive the past two nights, perhaps because of the time change and my usual late late hour of retiring for the night being thrown off; and I know that last night a horrible storm threw me off kilter as I lay in bed and listened to the howling wind and the beating of it against the window screen, wondering how many shingles would be found the next morning in the yard, having flown off the roof.
Tonight there's no real excuse for not falling readily asleep, save for my thoughts.
Thoughts are not always welcome; they invade when you don't want them to; or they flee -- as butterflies do when you try to capture them with a net.
Tonight I'm thinking a mixed bag: of conversations -- written and oral -- I had today with various people; of conflicts in my family summer plans with other family members' summer plans, and how best to resolve the situation to make both families happy; of where my writing ought to take me, but doesn't necessarily do so, perhaps because I'm not putting forth enough effort, or because it feels forced and unnatural.
I've also been thinking of former classmates and where they are today -- this for the reason that I visited my parents today and my mother gave me my class pictures from senior kindergarten to grade 6. I reviewed the photos with my husband and children, seeing if they could spot me (my five-year-old did a bang-up job with the assignment), pointing out other people familiar to them, telling them who was doing what, to the best of my current knowledge, and unfortunately acknowledging a couple of people who passed away at too young an age from tragic circumstances.
As children in these class photos that capture us from ages 5 through 11, we are bright-eyed, carefree in our life's responsibilites, perhaps temporarily squirming under the focused look of the photographer, but knowing that in a few minutes, after the "One, two, three, say 'Cheese' " has passed, we can once again relax, be the children we're supposed to be.
Many of us in those pictures have been rewarded with good careers, and a rich family life. And I knew that when my daughter pointed out one of the earliest pictures with me in it, and commented on this aspect, "I like this picture of you; it's your best smile!" I couldn't help but smile.
And although at moments like tonight, when some of my thoughts are heavier than others, seeming to weigh me down and keep me from relaxing into a sleep, I also smile because my family, my lifestyle, and my roots have made me who I am: a thinking, feeling person...who may sometimes lack a bit of sleep, but certainly does not lack in being loved by family and friends. Yes, a rich woman, indeed!
Monday, April 04, 2005
Paul Simon Has Flown the Coop...along with the Eagles
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Okay, people, no more music on my blog. Someone rightfully pointed out today that having music suddenly playing when you open my blog to read my posts might be a real intrusion in your work or home life. Like I said in an earlier post -- I respect you readers. So one comment today, and thus the music videos are no longer.
The truth was that the selection the video link offered was not so great anyway, unless you can wrap your mind around rap music, which were the majority of videos available.
You'll just have to settle for me singing from my corner of the world (too far away for you to hear me!) some Gershwin classics or some mellow music. James Taylor, anyone? "Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel..." or "You've got a friend..."
Okay, people, no more music on my blog. Someone rightfully pointed out today that having music suddenly playing when you open my blog to read my posts might be a real intrusion in your work or home life. Like I said in an earlier post -- I respect you readers. So one comment today, and thus the music videos are no longer.
The truth was that the selection the video link offered was not so great anyway, unless you can wrap your mind around rap music, which were the majority of videos available.
You'll just have to settle for me singing from my corner of the world (too far away for you to hear me!) some Gershwin classics or some mellow music. James Taylor, anyone? "Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel..." or "You've got a friend..."
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Shalom, Laya. Shalom, Penina.
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Ah, so you're surprised to see your names up in blogger lights, huh?
It's just an official public thank-you to two ladies from my neck of the woods who take the time to read my words and comment, whether privately or publicly. I appreciate you taking moments out of your busy days to tune in to my random thoughts, and then offer some of your own.
Not to say that others don't do so, too. Of course you read my words, and several of you also comment, whether privately or publicly. And I thank you for doing so.
I enjoy the handful of off-screen friendships/acquaintanceships that I have developed by blogging. Many of you display such sensitivity, insights and humor that keep me somewhat in awe. In your notes and in your own posts many of you prove how bright and in-the-know you are; yes, we each come into this world, developing our own strengths, but sometimes I fear that my strengths cannot match yours.
Yes, the world is big, but sometimes I choose to keep mine small, personal, intimate. Regardless, it's always nice to invite new people into my small corner of the world...
Ah, so you're surprised to see your names up in blogger lights, huh?
It's just an official public thank-you to two ladies from my neck of the woods who take the time to read my words and comment, whether privately or publicly. I appreciate you taking moments out of your busy days to tune in to my random thoughts, and then offer some of your own.
Not to say that others don't do so, too. Of course you read my words, and several of you also comment, whether privately or publicly. And I thank you for doing so.
I enjoy the handful of off-screen friendships/acquaintanceships that I have developed by blogging. Many of you display such sensitivity, insights and humor that keep me somewhat in awe. In your notes and in your own posts many of you prove how bright and in-the-know you are; yes, we each come into this world, developing our own strengths, but sometimes I fear that my strengths cannot match yours.
Yes, the world is big, but sometimes I choose to keep mine small, personal, intimate. Regardless, it's always nice to invite new people into my small corner of the world...
Reach Out and Touch...
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Since I was a little girl I was considered "a helper" -- my early report cards commented and said that I was always willing to help others; in grade 4, when a new student came from Israel to join our class, the teacher asked for some volunteers to help be a peer to this girl and be involved with English as a Second Language -- guess whose hand rose in the air? I couldn't wait to turn thirteen years old so that I could be a candy striper in a seniors' home/hospital; I volunteered with special-needs adults for several years; I worked for Jewish Chaplaincy services, visiting Jewish people in public nursing homes; I like to help causes in those areas in which I display strengths (editing, writing, promoting)
For some reason (I think it's a wonderful inherited trait from a parent) I've been blessed with a concerned and helpful nature. It's not that I necessarily go out on a limb to help people, but it's a natural outlet for me; it comes easy to me.
Sometimes, however, good intentions are misconstrued. I'll never forget in grade school when a peer fell in the schoolyard, and me being my natural wanna-help self, asked before we came in from recess, "Ari, are you okay?" I got back such a sarcastic retort: "Yes, Nurse Pearl. I'm fine!" I meant well, but it backfired at that point in time...and I sort of hurt because I'd meant well but this ten year old kid didn't want to hear it from me.
I don't know why I'm attracted to certain causes more than others, why I seek to help some people more than I do others. Something touches a heart chord, a nerve, I guess.
But I'm more than happy when I am able to offer my compassion, my interest, my time to help further a cause, to help console someone, to help bring out the best in someone else. Because when I do that, I'm also bringing out the best in me!
Since I was a little girl I was considered "a helper" -- my early report cards commented and said that I was always willing to help others; in grade 4, when a new student came from Israel to join our class, the teacher asked for some volunteers to help be a peer to this girl and be involved with English as a Second Language -- guess whose hand rose in the air? I couldn't wait to turn thirteen years old so that I could be a candy striper in a seniors' home/hospital; I volunteered with special-needs adults for several years; I worked for Jewish Chaplaincy services, visiting Jewish people in public nursing homes; I like to help causes in those areas in which I display strengths (editing, writing, promoting)
For some reason (I think it's a wonderful inherited trait from a parent) I've been blessed with a concerned and helpful nature. It's not that I necessarily go out on a limb to help people, but it's a natural outlet for me; it comes easy to me.
Sometimes, however, good intentions are misconstrued. I'll never forget in grade school when a peer fell in the schoolyard, and me being my natural wanna-help self, asked before we came in from recess, "Ari, are you okay?" I got back such a sarcastic retort: "Yes, Nurse Pearl. I'm fine!" I meant well, but it backfired at that point in time...and I sort of hurt because I'd meant well but this ten year old kid didn't want to hear it from me.
I don't know why I'm attracted to certain causes more than others, why I seek to help some people more than I do others. Something touches a heart chord, a nerve, I guess.
But I'm more than happy when I am able to offer my compassion, my interest, my time to help further a cause, to help console someone, to help bring out the best in someone else. Because when I do that, I'm also bringing out the best in me!
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Everything Old Becomes New Again
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Growing up, I've been pretty much of a classic type, when it comes to fashion and ideas. I wasn't always into trends because they're often so flighty. "Classic consciousness" seems to help when it comes to fads that pass you by; you're in for the long haul, when things go in and out the window with the passing seasons. And sometimes they haunt you again somewhere down the road.
Today my daughter asked me to say the "Hey, hey, hey -- it's Fat Albert" refrain. She knows of it from the TV commercials she'd seen advertising the movie before its release. I told her it used to be a cartoon when I was a kid.
So many things were around when I was a kid, or growing up. I was in my twenties during the disco era, and so much of the music from then is being remixed today for the airwaves or nightclubs. I find it fascinating that the young people are hearing these songs for the first time, when in fact they're passe for me....
To go to a toy store and still see Easy Bake Ovens around makes me feel happy; I remember being eight years old, and visiting my uncle, aunt and many cousins in Mexico City (my first airplane trip from Canada to Mexico), and one of my cousins had one. I was fascinated by the concept that this little light bulb could help bake a cake. Do you think they can recreate that in a massive size, like a regular oven?
If you're a classic type of person, the current Coco Chanel type of woman's suit with fringed cuffs might still be found at the back of your closet. Yes, it's the rage today, but so it was many years ago, and so you held on to it.
Okay, fashions and toys aside, I wish that some of the oldie but goodie TV shows would still be around on mainstream television. For some of them, the themes or jokes would no longer apply to our lifestyles, nor would they be understood by the younger generations, but how I wish they'd come back to haunt us. Here are some family-time shows around which many of my long-term memories are made:
I Love Lucy/The Lucy Show
The Lawrence Welk Show
The Ed Sullivan Show
The Carol Burnett Show
All in the Family
The Red Skelton Show
Bonanza
Gunsmoke
Tiny Talent Time (a local talent show for kids)
Romper Room
Green Acres
CBC-Nighttime News (Canadian Broadcasting System)
CBS Evening News w/ Walter Cronkite
Truth or Consequences
Make Room for Daddy
Yes, I know that many of these shows are available on specialized cable channels, but if you don't have those channels or want to install them on your television system, you have to rely on your memories. And you have to try to recreate those memories for your children so that they can better understand where you're coming from.
So next time my daughter asks me to repeat the Fat Albert refrain, I'll tell her not just that it used to be a cartoon when I was a kid, but I'll give her details about the show and tell her why I liked it. And she'll better understand that Eema (Mom) was once a young girl like her...
Growing up, I've been pretty much of a classic type, when it comes to fashion and ideas. I wasn't always into trends because they're often so flighty. "Classic consciousness" seems to help when it comes to fads that pass you by; you're in for the long haul, when things go in and out the window with the passing seasons. And sometimes they haunt you again somewhere down the road.
Today my daughter asked me to say the "Hey, hey, hey -- it's Fat Albert" refrain. She knows of it from the TV commercials she'd seen advertising the movie before its release. I told her it used to be a cartoon when I was a kid.
So many things were around when I was a kid, or growing up. I was in my twenties during the disco era, and so much of the music from then is being remixed today for the airwaves or nightclubs. I find it fascinating that the young people are hearing these songs for the first time, when in fact they're passe for me....
To go to a toy store and still see Easy Bake Ovens around makes me feel happy; I remember being eight years old, and visiting my uncle, aunt and many cousins in Mexico City (my first airplane trip from Canada to Mexico), and one of my cousins had one. I was fascinated by the concept that this little light bulb could help bake a cake. Do you think they can recreate that in a massive size, like a regular oven?
If you're a classic type of person, the current Coco Chanel type of woman's suit with fringed cuffs might still be found at the back of your closet. Yes, it's the rage today, but so it was many years ago, and so you held on to it.
Okay, fashions and toys aside, I wish that some of the oldie but goodie TV shows would still be around on mainstream television. For some of them, the themes or jokes would no longer apply to our lifestyles, nor would they be understood by the younger generations, but how I wish they'd come back to haunt us. Here are some family-time shows around which many of my long-term memories are made:
I Love Lucy/The Lucy Show
The Lawrence Welk Show
The Ed Sullivan Show
The Carol Burnett Show
All in the Family
The Red Skelton Show
Bonanza
Gunsmoke
Tiny Talent Time (a local talent show for kids)
Romper Room
Green Acres
CBC-Nighttime News (Canadian Broadcasting System)
CBS Evening News w/ Walter Cronkite
Truth or Consequences
Make Room for Daddy
Yes, I know that many of these shows are available on specialized cable channels, but if you don't have those channels or want to install them on your television system, you have to rely on your memories. And you have to try to recreate those memories for your children so that they can better understand where you're coming from.
So next time my daughter asks me to repeat the Fat Albert refrain, I'll tell her not just that it used to be a cartoon when I was a kid, but I'll give her details about the show and tell her why I liked it. And she'll better understand that Eema (Mom) was once a young girl like her...
Friday, April 01, 2005
The Eagles Have Left the Building
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Apparently, the Eagles have left the building. (and took my list of favorite blogs with them, those dirty rats!)
Now, for your enjoyment, we have Mr. Paul Simon.
Apparently, the Eagles have left the building. (and took my list of favorite blogs with them, those dirty rats!)
Now, for your enjoyment, we have Mr. Paul Simon.
I Asked...and Got an Answer
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I've had a Pesach-related Halachic question floating around my brain forever. Back and forth, back and forth, my husband and I have tossed the matter around over the past few years. He has his minhagim, I have mine, but we'd agreed on this minhag. However it was time to find out if it was just our family traditions ruling us, or if there was any Halachic basis to our years-old practice.
I just got off the computer (thought I was going to say "phone," didn't you?) with a religious adviser from www.askmoses.com. Aside from it being a web site offering insights, I received immediate gratification with receiving an answer after my online discussion with the "agent" at the other end.
This service is run by Lubavitch, and I've used it before. It is a wonderful resource for some quick responses, if you don't want to call your own rabbi or another religious educational institution/organization.
Please go ask Moses your questions. He is online 24/6!
I've had a Pesach-related Halachic question floating around my brain forever. Back and forth, back and forth, my husband and I have tossed the matter around over the past few years. He has his minhagim, I have mine, but we'd agreed on this minhag. However it was time to find out if it was just our family traditions ruling us, or if there was any Halachic basis to our years-old practice.
I just got off the computer (thought I was going to say "phone," didn't you?) with a religious adviser from www.askmoses.com. Aside from it being a web site offering insights, I received immediate gratification with receiving an answer after my online discussion with the "agent" at the other end.
This service is run by Lubavitch, and I've used it before. It is a wonderful resource for some quick responses, if you don't want to call your own rabbi or another religious educational institution/organization.
Please go ask Moses your questions. He is online 24/6!
Thursday, March 31, 2005
She Loves You, ya YA-YA
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I am forever checking out publishers' web sites to see what's new in the book world, even if I don't end up reading these books that are being marketed online.
And in my journey among some publishers' sites this evening, I encountered an entire marketing world around the "Ya-Ya" books that have been very popular (but which I haven't YET read).
Here is a fun link to help you generate your YA-YA Sisterhood name.
http://ya-ya.com/yaya_name
I entered my information and received this message: Your Ya-Ya name is Mistress Loves To Read -- how ve...r....r....y interesting. How does this name generator know that I work in the publishing arena and that I love to read?
For fun I also threw in my husband's name and got back this message: Viscountess Loves To Cook. (no, he's not a viscountess, nor even a viscount, but yes, he loves to cook!)
And if you do check it out, let me know in the comments section what your YA-YA name is.
I am forever checking out publishers' web sites to see what's new in the book world, even if I don't end up reading these books that are being marketed online.
And in my journey among some publishers' sites this evening, I encountered an entire marketing world around the "Ya-Ya" books that have been very popular (but which I haven't YET read).
Here is a fun link to help you generate your YA-YA Sisterhood name.
http://ya-ya.com/yaya_name
I entered my information and received this message: Your Ya-Ya name is Mistress Loves To Read -- how ve...r....r....y interesting. How does this name generator know that I work in the publishing arena and that I love to read?
For fun I also threw in my husband's name and got back this message: Viscountess Loves To Cook. (no, he's not a viscountess, nor even a viscount, but yes, he loves to cook!)
And if you do check it out, let me know in the comments section what your YA-YA name is.
How Time Flies...
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I read Robert Avrech's Seraphic Secret today, specifically his latest post, "School."
http://www.seraphicpress.com/archives/2005/03/school.php
Reading the post compelled me enough to comment on his site. But I also have to admit that personally I'm suffering from some guilt as a result of reading his post.
Several times, in the heat of my frustration-of-the-moment with my two oldest children (but still quite young!), I've had the audacity to blurt out, "Why don't you just grow up already!?"
And then I look at all three of my children at a different moment and wonder sadly, "How have they grown up so quickly? Where has the time gone?"
I read Robert Avrech's Seraphic Secret today, specifically his latest post, "School."
http://www.seraphicpress.com/archives/2005/03/school.php
Reading the post compelled me enough to comment on his site. But I also have to admit that personally I'm suffering from some guilt as a result of reading his post.
Several times, in the heat of my frustration-of-the-moment with my two oldest children (but still quite young!), I've had the audacity to blurt out, "Why don't you just grow up already!?"
And then I look at all three of my children at a different moment and wonder sadly, "How have they grown up so quickly? Where has the time gone?"
Music, Anyone?
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(First let me go into a corner and growl a bit -- damn Blogger! You made me lose my post once again.)
Okay, I'm fine now....
In case any of you have tuned in to Pearlies of Wisdom and you hear some music, specifically the Eagles singing "Hotel California," do know that you're not going out of your head. If you scroll way, way down to the bottom of the page, you'll see a video playing.
Yesterday I was haunting a couple of my favorite blogs and saw that this video feature had been added. Although I'm not a copycat by nature, I like the feature and added it to my own blog.
I chose the song, keeping in mind some of my California-based readers. But the truth is that this video wasn't my first choice. I'm a fond lover of all kinds of music, but I didn't want to offend any of my readers with a video featuring a female singer or female dancers in the background.
Perhaps there are some of you who don't normally listen to secular music and are offended even by the Eagles. Please let me know -- I'd rather you tune in to Pearlies of Wisdom than have to tune in and then tune out because of the background music.
I'll be the DJ and turn off the music if necessary...
****** A 3:45 p.m. addendum********
I respect my readers, so remember, if you'd like, I'll cancel the video segment; if not, do realize that I will change it from time to time so that it won't only be the Eagles doing the serenading. Thank you, from the management!
(First let me go into a corner and growl a bit -- damn Blogger! You made me lose my post once again.)
Okay, I'm fine now....
In case any of you have tuned in to Pearlies of Wisdom and you hear some music, specifically the Eagles singing "Hotel California," do know that you're not going out of your head. If you scroll way, way down to the bottom of the page, you'll see a video playing.
Yesterday I was haunting a couple of my favorite blogs and saw that this video feature had been added. Although I'm not a copycat by nature, I like the feature and added it to my own blog.
I chose the song, keeping in mind some of my California-based readers. But the truth is that this video wasn't my first choice. I'm a fond lover of all kinds of music, but I didn't want to offend any of my readers with a video featuring a female singer or female dancers in the background.
Perhaps there are some of you who don't normally listen to secular music and are offended even by the Eagles. Please let me know -- I'd rather you tune in to Pearlies of Wisdom than have to tune in and then tune out because of the background music.
I'll be the DJ and turn off the music if necessary...
****** A 3:45 p.m. addendum********
I respect my readers, so remember, if you'd like, I'll cancel the video segment; if not, do realize that I will change it from time to time so that it won't only be the Eagles doing the serenading. Thank you, from the management!
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
"Slicha, Ha'im Atem Mevinim Ohti?"
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Hebrew for "Excuse me, do you understand me?"
Last night I was at another meeting of the committee I sit on at my children's day school: the chinuch committee, ie. the education committee. Of course we talked about this, that and the other, throwing around old as well as new ideas that relate to the betterment of our children and to our tuition dollars.
An opportunity arose for me to speak, and this is similar to what I said: "You offer an Ivrit b'ivrit program (Hebrew immersion) from preschool on and you really just don't know how much a child absorbs. I've tried over the years to speak Hebrew to my children at home and they whine and don't want to hear it. I figure I'm helping them along because I'm reinforcing what they learn in school, but oftentimes they've turned a deaf ear to my husband and I.
"Once in a while, though, I'll start talking to one of my three children and my oldest will answer or comment about everything I've said; he has no desire to do so in Hebrew, but at least I have clear evidence in his English responses that he's understanding everything I'm saying.
"Several times I've wanted to say something to my husband so that my children will not understand, and I revert to Hebrew. My husband says, 'Why are you even bothering? They understand everything we're saying!' So true -- that is how I learned German and Yiddish at home!
"We don't realize just how much like a sponge a child and his/her mind are. Until we are forced to use a language, we don't truly know just how much we've absorbed."
Zeh ha-kol; ayn ohd. (That's it; there ain't no more!)
Hebrew for "Excuse me, do you understand me?"
Last night I was at another meeting of the committee I sit on at my children's day school: the chinuch committee, ie. the education committee. Of course we talked about this, that and the other, throwing around old as well as new ideas that relate to the betterment of our children and to our tuition dollars.
An opportunity arose for me to speak, and this is similar to what I said: "You offer an Ivrit b'ivrit program (Hebrew immersion) from preschool on and you really just don't know how much a child absorbs. I've tried over the years to speak Hebrew to my children at home and they whine and don't want to hear it. I figure I'm helping them along because I'm reinforcing what they learn in school, but oftentimes they've turned a deaf ear to my husband and I.
"Once in a while, though, I'll start talking to one of my three children and my oldest will answer or comment about everything I've said; he has no desire to do so in Hebrew, but at least I have clear evidence in his English responses that he's understanding everything I'm saying.
"Several times I've wanted to say something to my husband so that my children will not understand, and I revert to Hebrew. My husband says, 'Why are you even bothering? They understand everything we're saying!' So true -- that is how I learned German and Yiddish at home!
"We don't realize just how much like a sponge a child and his/her mind are. Until we are forced to use a language, we don't truly know just how much we've absorbed."
Zeh ha-kol; ayn ohd. (That's it; there ain't no more!)
Monday, March 28, 2005
Best Not To Assume
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When I was dating my now-husband a dozen years ago, he taught me the philosophy "Don't assume." I think most of you know how the saying goes: Don't assume because then you make an ass out of you and an ass out of me. (excuse my French)
I've tried to heed his advice since then, but it isn't always easy. And often when I assume something, and it doesn't happen, I feel great disappointment more than I do anger. I'm disappointed by the fact that whatever I'd expected to happen didn't, and by the fact that I'd set myself up for a fall. I think that's what hubby was trying to teach me all those years ago.
Being a thinking, feeling, sensitive person doesn't always help; in the arena of "assuming," these attributes can actually hinder. I have the habit of sometimes assuming the most basic things, which usually center around common decency, but often the person in question fails the test. What is good for me doesn't necessarily make it good for another person. What I deem to be something relatively easy to do, the other person might consider a chore, and thus, doesn't fulfill it. What I think might be a big deal to me is actually a petty detail to others.
Assumption is based on perception, and often our life views are askew or our perceptions are tinted or someone is near-sighted and the other people are far-sighted. Whatever the reason, we don't necessarily see eye to eye on issues, assumptions are made...and grievances may result...
I hope that reading such a post can make you look inward a bit and allow you to be more conscious of the assumptions you might have of others or situations. We can all stand to learn from one another, can't we...?
****
BTW, I ran into some technical glitches when I went to "Publish Post" and nothing was happening, so of course I figured that I'd lost this post. Lo and behold, a few minutes later, I tracked it down just where I'd left it. Moral of this story? Best Not To Assume.
When I was dating my now-husband a dozen years ago, he taught me the philosophy "Don't assume." I think most of you know how the saying goes: Don't assume because then you make an ass out of you and an ass out of me. (excuse my French)
I've tried to heed his advice since then, but it isn't always easy. And often when I assume something, and it doesn't happen, I feel great disappointment more than I do anger. I'm disappointed by the fact that whatever I'd expected to happen didn't, and by the fact that I'd set myself up for a fall. I think that's what hubby was trying to teach me all those years ago.
Being a thinking, feeling, sensitive person doesn't always help; in the arena of "assuming," these attributes can actually hinder. I have the habit of sometimes assuming the most basic things, which usually center around common decency, but often the person in question fails the test. What is good for me doesn't necessarily make it good for another person. What I deem to be something relatively easy to do, the other person might consider a chore, and thus, doesn't fulfill it. What I think might be a big deal to me is actually a petty detail to others.
Assumption is based on perception, and often our life views are askew or our perceptions are tinted or someone is near-sighted and the other people are far-sighted. Whatever the reason, we don't necessarily see eye to eye on issues, assumptions are made...and grievances may result...
I hope that reading such a post can make you look inward a bit and allow you to be more conscious of the assumptions you might have of others or situations. We can all stand to learn from one another, can't we...?
****
BTW, I ran into some technical glitches when I went to "Publish Post" and nothing was happening, so of course I figured that I'd lost this post. Lo and behold, a few minutes later, I tracked it down just where I'd left it. Moral of this story? Best Not To Assume.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
My 'Net Worth
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Since Thursday evening, I've been MIA -- my computer was acting a bit "ferkakt" and I had no access to e-mail or the Internet. Thank G-d -- and my husband -- that the computer was fixed today and that Pearl is able to access her messages and her blog once more!
I hope those of you who celebrate Purim had a most wonderful chag, and those of you who might celebrate Easter had a most wonderful holiday. And those of you who perhaps don't celebrate anything simply had a wonderful long weekend!
Well, my d'var Torah is behind me and it was a resounding success. Firstly, I must thank a couple of you out there who offered me wonderful quotes related to the "light of Torah." I'd planned to incorporate them into my talk on the Ner Tamid, but when my computer went on the blink, I couldn't access the quotes when I was typing on Friday.
Before I even had the opportunity to speak, I received what to me is a wonderful compliment. I happened to go Shabbos morning to the shul I was to speak at (I alternate shuls usually) and after services the president made his announcements and said that Pearl _____ would be the guest speaker at seudat shlishit. I saw a woman sitting nearby confer with her daughter then, the woman and daughter turned, I was pointed out to the daughter... I tapped the woman on the shoulder and jokingly said, "I'm not going to be reading poetry!" (this woman is actually a poet, has published a couple anthologies of her poetry, has been a speaker at the Toronto Jewish Book Fair, and she and I have shared poetry readings on a couple of occasions in the past three years) She smiled and told me, "My daughter asked when she heard the name, 'Isn't that the poet?' " To say I'm flattered easily is somewhat obvious, but here this young woman heard my name and associated it with poetry was a wonderful feeling for me.
Yes, I labored long and hard at the d'var I was to present. I was very self-conscious that I was going to be sharing my words with some real "big guns", some real "talmidim" -- was I as a female going to be able to make an impression on a rabbi and on a mostly male audience with my words?
Not that you necessarily want to read my d'var but I'll share it with you anyhow. Perhaps I can enlighten you somehow; putting together the information certainly enlightened me!
My D’var Torah – Saturday March 26, 2005
Honored rabbi, family, friends and fellow congregants. Shabbat Shalom.
The night of the shul’s tribute dinner, Rabbi G. reminded my husband of his upcoming d’var Torah, and then he turned to me and asked, “Would you like to do one the following week?” I thought he was teasing. What would I talk about? How would I approach whatever I chose to talk about? I didn’t dwell on it, and assumed that because we hadn’t firmed up any arrangements, I really was not meant to do one.
But two weeks ago, when my husband did his d’var, I asked the rabbi if he indeed had been serious about the offer; he assured me he had, and so I signed my name to the imaginary dotted line.
Yes, I perceived preparing for a d’var as challenging—I have not done anything remotely similar since my U. of T. days, while minoring in Jewish studies, or when I wrote school papers in high school, but I sort of looked forward to this challenge.
I davka chose not to pursue discussing the parsha—you get spoon-fed that enough from all your rabbis and teachers. Instead I decided that I would talk about the NER TAMID, and hopefully enlighten you with its origins and some of the manifestations of light as we understand it.
The concept of the Ner Tamid has always been a fascinating one for me. From a young age, whenever I walked into a shul, whatever kind of shul it was , I noticed the “constants” – the bimah, the aron kodesh and the ner tamid, the eternal light. I’d look at the ner, looking at its casing and deciding if I liked it simple or artistic, and remaining in awe of the fact that this was indeed an eternal light, a continual glowing above the aron kodesh housing the Torah scrolls.
References to the origins of the Ner Tamid appear primarily in two places in the chumash:
In Sefer Shmot, Exodus, Parshat Tetzaveh, Perek , 27th chapter , psukim 20-21, katuv:
The second appearance, with wording almost verbatim, appears in Sefer Vayikra, Leviticus, Parshat emor, Perek , chapter 24 pasuk b, verse 2. Katuv:
In Parshat Tetzaveh, it says the olive oil that is to be brought to light the menorah, the seven branched lamp, in the mishkan has to be pure, and direction is given as to the exact positioning of the menorah and the way it is to be lit and what it’s supposed to do.
A question is raised: why does the parsha start with the commandment of lighting the menorah? Why is the commandment not listed in the previous parsha, following the description of the building of the menorah? Why does it come in between the description of the building of the vessels for the mishkan and the clothing and offerings of the priests? What makes it so special?
The details of the lighting of the menorah represent Avodat Hashem and yiraat Shamayim. Rashi understood that the commandment to build the mishkan was given after the sin of the golden calf. The Israelites needed a physical reminder of G-d’s presence to focus their worship so he gave them the mishkan. What vessels in the mishkan could possibly represent his presence and remind them of his constant protection and guidance? In the desert, it had been the pillar of cloud in the day to lead them, and the pillar of fire at night to give them light.
So the fire, the Ner Tamid, is reminiscent of the desert’s pillar of fire for it was lit from the evening until morning. The golden incense altar that creates a cloud of incense, represents the pillar of cloud, for Aaron lit it in the morning when he deals with the menorah lamp. And when Aaron lit candles in the evening he burns the incense, too.
In fact some interpretations, like Rashi’s, say that the Ner Tamid does not actually mean “continuously” but rather “regularly.”
Ramban disagrees and says that Tamid does mean continuously. He goes on to say that the Ner Tamid that the pasuk talks about is the western candle that always stays miraculously lit. All 7 candles were given the same amount of crushed pure olive oil each night, enough to last till morning. Ramban says that every night the western candle actually had to be blown out in order to be relit.
But the details of the pasuk call to our attention. Shouldn’t the text say “Vykhu eylai” – “to bring to me” the clear oil of the beaten olives. No, it was intentional. It was about the kohanim and Israelites and servitude for themselves as well. In a midrash it is said that G-d pointed out that he actually had many servants_- the brightness of the sun, the moon, the stars, lights that were created by him. He really doesn’t need the particular light of the menorah. But it is to endow the Jews to whom the torah was given, with the zechut to observe particular commandments, So not for G-d’s edification, but for ours. Preparing and bringing the oil is what the Midrash says is one of many opportunities to come closer to the shechina. And as an interesting tidbit, the word for “the oil”, “Hashemen”, is made up of the same letters that spell the word for soul, “Neshama.”
In the 19th century Rabbi Hersh examined the 2nd half of the verse: “L’a lot Ner Tamid”, ie. The flame should ascend of its own. He said that the description of the act of lighting a lamp by using “ascending” is peculiar to the service of the menorah in the mishkan. It alludes to the action of the kohen, applying the flame to the wick until it ascends. Similarly, a rabbi or teacher of Jewish tenets makes himself available but maintains some distance. People receiving instruction from him shouldn’t be constantly dependent on him. We as people should aim to be flames which ascend on our own, to shamayim.
It is interesting to note that the menorah and its candles have a significance of relating to both G-d and man. Its several branches represent the range of human wisdom, or for some, the major organs. The central branch from which all the branches extend show the centrality of Torah to Jewish life and human intelligence. The ner tamid corresponds to the heart – it is to be a light that can never be extinguished, which burns miraculously , even without replenishment of the oil or wicks of mitzvah observance.
In Proverbs 6:23 it says: "Ki Ner Mitzvah, vTorah Ohr." The commandment is a candle and Torah is illumination. The commandment is the candle and the mitzvah’s purpose is to illuminate the path to Torah, the source for all light. A commandment is compared to a lamp in order to tell you that as a lamp gives light for a short time, so the performance of a commandment also gives protection only for a short time. But the torah is compared to light itself in order to tell you that as light always illuminates the world, so does the study of torah always brings enlightenment to the world. Learning torah is a lifelong undertaking, an intricate process, just like the lighting of the menorah. First, learning involves refinement is which we work to bring the best of ourselves to the text. Second, learning must be tended to on a daily basis, and one must be disciplined to learn. Third, our learning must radiate outward in both word and deed, and must be sustained between generations.
It also says in Proverbs, 20:27 “Ner Hashem Nishmat Adam”-- the lamp of G-d is the human soul. Pardesai Yosef, cited in Itturei Torah, elaborates and says that every Jew must light a ner tamid in his/her own heart, not only in the mishkan, the beis midrash, the bet Knesset or during tefilla. But also “Mechutz laparochet”, outside the curtain, meaning in the street, in business dealings, in personal and social interactions.
In his book, A Passion for Truth, Abraham Joshua Heschel says that the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hassidut, distilled in people Judaism’s essence of joy, compassion and love for God. He awakened the zest for spiritual living, expressed in “hitlahavut” which literally means “being excited/being aflame”. Like the kohanim kindled the ner in the bet hamikdash, so, to, did the Besht help to rekindle a ner tamid in Jewish hearts.
(Here: read 4 lines of poem, in Hebrew first, then English: In the world’s heart burns a torch of fire/In its footsteps, eternal wanderers we have gone./Embodied light of all that transpires/It is the fire-core for everyone.
In every Jewish soul is a spark of light, a ner tamid. In every Jewish chapel is a ner tamid, a special, everlasting light. It reminds us that a shul is like a small bet Hamikdash and that our prayers which represent and replace sacrifices, are always welcome, because like sacrifices they bring us closer to Hashem.
May we all continue to be “keepers of the flame” and maintain “Hitlahavut” in our paths of Yiddishkeit.
Shabbat shalom.
It was a very good feeling to have men say "Shkoyech" to me, for the rabbi and rebbetzin to compliment me warmly and sincerely, but I think the greatest compliment for me came from an older gentleman, who happens to be the zeyde/grandfather of the young woman who referred to me as "the poet" earlier in the day. This lovely man came up to me and said, "Pearl, it was wonderful. You should publish it in a newspaper...I really mean it...you should publish it." (Okay, I couldn't tell him that maybe I won't publish the vort in a newspaper, but will publish it in a blog!)
When I go to a simcha or sit at someone's Shabbos table and someone gets up to give a d'var Torah, I am always so impressed; they can relay information, including psukim or rabbi citations, off the top of their heads, or know exactly where in a sefer to open up and make a point. I certainly could not do it off the top of my head, but the "spark" that I talk about in the vort, was certainly present when I was doing my research. That in itself is probably greater than any "shkoyech" I could ever receive...
Since Thursday evening, I've been MIA -- my computer was acting a bit "ferkakt" and I had no access to e-mail or the Internet. Thank G-d -- and my husband -- that the computer was fixed today and that Pearl is able to access her messages and her blog once more!
I hope those of you who celebrate Purim had a most wonderful chag, and those of you who might celebrate Easter had a most wonderful holiday. And those of you who perhaps don't celebrate anything simply had a wonderful long weekend!
Well, my d'var Torah is behind me and it was a resounding success. Firstly, I must thank a couple of you out there who offered me wonderful quotes related to the "light of Torah." I'd planned to incorporate them into my talk on the Ner Tamid, but when my computer went on the blink, I couldn't access the quotes when I was typing on Friday.
Before I even had the opportunity to speak, I received what to me is a wonderful compliment. I happened to go Shabbos morning to the shul I was to speak at (I alternate shuls usually) and after services the president made his announcements and said that Pearl _____ would be the guest speaker at seudat shlishit. I saw a woman sitting nearby confer with her daughter then, the woman and daughter turned, I was pointed out to the daughter... I tapped the woman on the shoulder and jokingly said, "I'm not going to be reading poetry!" (this woman is actually a poet, has published a couple anthologies of her poetry, has been a speaker at the Toronto Jewish Book Fair, and she and I have shared poetry readings on a couple of occasions in the past three years) She smiled and told me, "My daughter asked when she heard the name, 'Isn't that the poet?' " To say I'm flattered easily is somewhat obvious, but here this young woman heard my name and associated it with poetry was a wonderful feeling for me.
Yes, I labored long and hard at the d'var I was to present. I was very self-conscious that I was going to be sharing my words with some real "big guns", some real "talmidim" -- was I as a female going to be able to make an impression on a rabbi and on a mostly male audience with my words?
Not that you necessarily want to read my d'var but I'll share it with you anyhow. Perhaps I can enlighten you somehow; putting together the information certainly enlightened me!
My D’var Torah – Saturday March 26, 2005
Honored rabbi, family, friends and fellow congregants. Shabbat Shalom.
The night of the shul’s tribute dinner, Rabbi G. reminded my husband of his upcoming d’var Torah, and then he turned to me and asked, “Would you like to do one the following week?” I thought he was teasing. What would I talk about? How would I approach whatever I chose to talk about? I didn’t dwell on it, and assumed that because we hadn’t firmed up any arrangements, I really was not meant to do one.
But two weeks ago, when my husband did his d’var, I asked the rabbi if he indeed had been serious about the offer; he assured me he had, and so I signed my name to the imaginary dotted line.
Yes, I perceived preparing for a d’var as challenging—I have not done anything remotely similar since my U. of T. days, while minoring in Jewish studies, or when I wrote school papers in high school, but I sort of looked forward to this challenge.
I davka chose not to pursue discussing the parsha—you get spoon-fed that enough from all your rabbis and teachers. Instead I decided that I would talk about the NER TAMID, and hopefully enlighten you with its origins and some of the manifestations of light as we understand it.
The concept of the Ner Tamid has always been a fascinating one for me. From a young age, whenever I walked into a shul, whatever kind of shul it was , I noticed the “constants” – the bimah, the aron kodesh and the ner tamid, the eternal light. I’d look at the ner, looking at its casing and deciding if I liked it simple or artistic, and remaining in awe of the fact that this was indeed an eternal light, a continual glowing above the aron kodesh housing the Torah scrolls.
References to the origins of the Ner Tamid appear primarily in two places in the chumash:
In Sefer Shmot, Exodus, Parshat Tetzaveh, Perek , 27th chapter , psukim 20-21, katuv:
The second appearance, with wording almost verbatim, appears in Sefer Vayikra, Leviticus, Parshat emor, Perek , chapter 24 pasuk b, verse 2. Katuv:
In Parshat Tetzaveh, it says the olive oil that is to be brought to light the menorah, the seven branched lamp, in the mishkan has to be pure, and direction is given as to the exact positioning of the menorah and the way it is to be lit and what it’s supposed to do.
A question is raised: why does the parsha start with the commandment of lighting the menorah? Why is the commandment not listed in the previous parsha, following the description of the building of the menorah? Why does it come in between the description of the building of the vessels for the mishkan and the clothing and offerings of the priests? What makes it so special?
The details of the lighting of the menorah represent Avodat Hashem and yiraat Shamayim. Rashi understood that the commandment to build the mishkan was given after the sin of the golden calf. The Israelites needed a physical reminder of G-d’s presence to focus their worship so he gave them the mishkan. What vessels in the mishkan could possibly represent his presence and remind them of his constant protection and guidance? In the desert, it had been the pillar of cloud in the day to lead them, and the pillar of fire at night to give them light.
So the fire, the Ner Tamid, is reminiscent of the desert’s pillar of fire for it was lit from the evening until morning. The golden incense altar that creates a cloud of incense, represents the pillar of cloud, for Aaron lit it in the morning when he deals with the menorah lamp. And when Aaron lit candles in the evening he burns the incense, too.
In fact some interpretations, like Rashi’s, say that the Ner Tamid does not actually mean “continuously” but rather “regularly.”
Ramban disagrees and says that Tamid does mean continuously. He goes on to say that the Ner Tamid that the pasuk talks about is the western candle that always stays miraculously lit. All 7 candles were given the same amount of crushed pure olive oil each night, enough to last till morning. Ramban says that every night the western candle actually had to be blown out in order to be relit.
But the details of the pasuk call to our attention. Shouldn’t the text say “Vykhu eylai” – “to bring to me” the clear oil of the beaten olives. No, it was intentional. It was about the kohanim and Israelites and servitude for themselves as well. In a midrash it is said that G-d pointed out that he actually had many servants_- the brightness of the sun, the moon, the stars, lights that were created by him. He really doesn’t need the particular light of the menorah. But it is to endow the Jews to whom the torah was given, with the zechut to observe particular commandments, So not for G-d’s edification, but for ours. Preparing and bringing the oil is what the Midrash says is one of many opportunities to come closer to the shechina. And as an interesting tidbit, the word for “the oil”, “Hashemen”, is made up of the same letters that spell the word for soul, “Neshama.”
In the 19th century Rabbi Hersh examined the 2nd half of the verse: “L’a lot Ner Tamid”, ie. The flame should ascend of its own. He said that the description of the act of lighting a lamp by using “ascending” is peculiar to the service of the menorah in the mishkan. It alludes to the action of the kohen, applying the flame to the wick until it ascends. Similarly, a rabbi or teacher of Jewish tenets makes himself available but maintains some distance. People receiving instruction from him shouldn’t be constantly dependent on him. We as people should aim to be flames which ascend on our own, to shamayim.
It is interesting to note that the menorah and its candles have a significance of relating to both G-d and man. Its several branches represent the range of human wisdom, or for some, the major organs. The central branch from which all the branches extend show the centrality of Torah to Jewish life and human intelligence. The ner tamid corresponds to the heart – it is to be a light that can never be extinguished, which burns miraculously , even without replenishment of the oil or wicks of mitzvah observance.
In Proverbs 6:23 it says: "Ki Ner Mitzvah, vTorah Ohr." The commandment is a candle and Torah is illumination. The commandment is the candle and the mitzvah’s purpose is to illuminate the path to Torah, the source for all light. A commandment is compared to a lamp in order to tell you that as a lamp gives light for a short time, so the performance of a commandment also gives protection only for a short time. But the torah is compared to light itself in order to tell you that as light always illuminates the world, so does the study of torah always brings enlightenment to the world. Learning torah is a lifelong undertaking, an intricate process, just like the lighting of the menorah. First, learning involves refinement is which we work to bring the best of ourselves to the text. Second, learning must be tended to on a daily basis, and one must be disciplined to learn. Third, our learning must radiate outward in both word and deed, and must be sustained between generations.
It also says in Proverbs, 20:27 “Ner Hashem Nishmat Adam”-- the lamp of G-d is the human soul. Pardesai Yosef, cited in Itturei Torah, elaborates and says that every Jew must light a ner tamid in his/her own heart, not only in the mishkan, the beis midrash, the bet Knesset or during tefilla. But also “Mechutz laparochet”, outside the curtain, meaning in the street, in business dealings, in personal and social interactions.
In his book, A Passion for Truth, Abraham Joshua Heschel says that the Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hassidut, distilled in people Judaism’s essence of joy, compassion and love for God. He awakened the zest for spiritual living, expressed in “hitlahavut” which literally means “being excited/being aflame”. Like the kohanim kindled the ner in the bet hamikdash, so, to, did the Besht help to rekindle a ner tamid in Jewish hearts.
(Here: read 4 lines of poem, in Hebrew first, then English: In the world’s heart burns a torch of fire/In its footsteps, eternal wanderers we have gone./Embodied light of all that transpires/It is the fire-core for everyone.
In every Jewish soul is a spark of light, a ner tamid. In every Jewish chapel is a ner tamid, a special, everlasting light. It reminds us that a shul is like a small bet Hamikdash and that our prayers which represent and replace sacrifices, are always welcome, because like sacrifices they bring us closer to Hashem.
May we all continue to be “keepers of the flame” and maintain “Hitlahavut” in our paths of Yiddishkeit.
Shabbat shalom.
It was a very good feeling to have men say "Shkoyech" to me, for the rabbi and rebbetzin to compliment me warmly and sincerely, but I think the greatest compliment for me came from an older gentleman, who happens to be the zeyde/grandfather of the young woman who referred to me as "the poet" earlier in the day. This lovely man came up to me and said, "Pearl, it was wonderful. You should publish it in a newspaper...I really mean it...you should publish it." (Okay, I couldn't tell him that maybe I won't publish the vort in a newspaper, but will publish it in a blog!)
When I go to a simcha or sit at someone's Shabbos table and someone gets up to give a d'var Torah, I am always so impressed; they can relay information, including psukim or rabbi citations, off the top of their heads, or know exactly where in a sefer to open up and make a point. I certainly could not do it off the top of my head, but the "spark" that I talk about in the vort, was certainly present when I was doing my research. That in itself is probably greater than any "shkoyech" I could ever receive...
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Tagged! aka Books, Books, Books -- Who's Got Time To Read?
Blogroll Me!
My friend Robert Avrech has very "generously" handed me the baton. I feel like some beauty queen who has just been passed the crown by the previous year's winner, but I'm of mixed feelings whether I really belong in the competition.
I've seen on other blogs that people are getting tagged for the books questions or for a list of any other generic questions; and secretly I've been hoping to be tagged by someone...anyone. So to be tagged by an award-winning screenwriter, who is also a wonderful writer of personal essays and fiction, is something of an honor.
So, here goes:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451; which book do you want to be?
I want to be a child's picture book -- a well-loved board book that is durable when it is read countless times, clutched in sticky apple-juiced fingers, toted along from room to room and passed on from child to child.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
People, I work in the world of romance. I read romance books for a living. You figure out that answer!!
The last book you bought is:
I'm guilty. I can't remember. It's been th...a...a...t...t long. But I used to always go to the remainders tables, come home with an armful, start to read, and unfortunately not always complete a book.
The last book you read:
Walking Home (MIRA BOOKS, January 2005) by Gloria Goldreich. It is the story of a young woman's search for her place in life -- finding out what is truly important to her world; learning what to give up or replace. It is about relationships between family and friends. It is about poetry and the need to express oneself. It is about memory and reality. It is about personal identity and self-declared facades. Inevitably, it is a story about taking a walk and deciding which direction you call home.
Oh ya, and just before I finished that book, I finished reading this great piece of YA historical fiction called THE HEBREW KID AND THE APACHE MAIDEN. (nudge, nudge, wink, wink!)
What are you currently reading?
I have been reading poetry by Shel Silverstein. Yes, it's children's poetry, but highly amusing and quirky, especially with the accompanying line drawings.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
A Haggadah -- I have a lovely one with Chassidic parables and explanations
The Tanach with English translation -- lots to read and analyze in there
Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 11th edition -- why not learn a new word each day?
Night -- the Elie Wiesel book that I have studied in school, university and read countless times because it is so powerful
a blank journal-- of course, being on a deserted island would offer lots of opportunity for writing my own book!
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
I now pass the baton back over to the West Coast to a group of blogging friends, aka Kerckhoff Coffeehouse. http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com These people will probably offer us something a little more than just interesting...
I also send it out to Anna Olswanger (http://www.olswanger.com). Not only is she a writer but she gathers up information of newly released Jewish books and sends out a quarterly newsletter, Jewish Books and Author News, listing and detailing these books and their authors. Through Anna's fall 2004 newsletter, I learned about Robert Avrech -- writer/publisher...now friend.
I'm sure that Anna would have lots to sift through in compiling her list.
I also am sending out the call to Danny Bloom, a writer/journalist/Mr. In the Know who resides in Taiwan. His finger is on the pulse of many wordly happenings, and he, no doubt, will also offer an eclectic selection of titles.
My friend Robert Avrech has very "generously" handed me the baton. I feel like some beauty queen who has just been passed the crown by the previous year's winner, but I'm of mixed feelings whether I really belong in the competition.
I've seen on other blogs that people are getting tagged for the books questions or for a list of any other generic questions; and secretly I've been hoping to be tagged by someone...anyone. So to be tagged by an award-winning screenwriter, who is also a wonderful writer of personal essays and fiction, is something of an honor.
So, here goes:
You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451; which book do you want to be?
I want to be a child's picture book -- a well-loved board book that is durable when it is read countless times, clutched in sticky apple-juiced fingers, toted along from room to room and passed on from child to child.
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
People, I work in the world of romance. I read romance books for a living. You figure out that answer!!
The last book you bought is:
I'm guilty. I can't remember. It's been th...a...a...t...t long. But I used to always go to the remainders tables, come home with an armful, start to read, and unfortunately not always complete a book.
The last book you read:
Walking Home (MIRA BOOKS, January 2005) by Gloria Goldreich. It is the story of a young woman's search for her place in life -- finding out what is truly important to her world; learning what to give up or replace. It is about relationships between family and friends. It is about poetry and the need to express oneself. It is about memory and reality. It is about personal identity and self-declared facades. Inevitably, it is a story about taking a walk and deciding which direction you call home.
Oh ya, and just before I finished that book, I finished reading this great piece of YA historical fiction called THE HEBREW KID AND THE APACHE MAIDEN. (nudge, nudge, wink, wink!)
What are you currently reading?
I have been reading poetry by Shel Silverstein. Yes, it's children's poetry, but highly amusing and quirky, especially with the accompanying line drawings.
Five books you would take to a deserted island:
A Haggadah -- I have a lovely one with Chassidic parables and explanations
The Tanach with English translation -- lots to read and analyze in there
Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 11th edition -- why not learn a new word each day?
Night -- the Elie Wiesel book that I have studied in school, university and read countless times because it is so powerful
a blank journal-- of course, being on a deserted island would offer lots of opportunity for writing my own book!
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
I now pass the baton back over to the West Coast to a group of blogging friends, aka Kerckhoff Coffeehouse. http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com These people will probably offer us something a little more than just interesting...
I also send it out to Anna Olswanger (http://www.olswanger.com). Not only is she a writer but she gathers up information of newly released Jewish books and sends out a quarterly newsletter, Jewish Books and Author News, listing and detailing these books and their authors. Through Anna's fall 2004 newsletter, I learned about Robert Avrech -- writer/publisher...now friend.
I'm sure that Anna would have lots to sift through in compiling her list.
I also am sending out the call to Danny Bloom, a writer/journalist/Mr. In the Know who resides in Taiwan. His finger is on the pulse of many wordly happenings, and he, no doubt, will also offer an eclectic selection of titles.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
A Diversion for the Time Being
Blogroll Me!
I'm having a bit of a harried time this week, preparing Mishloach Manot packages for many little people, aka my children's friends; sending out donation cards in lieu of Mishloach Manot to most big people; getting children's costumes together; trying to work on a freelance job/manuscript that I have to copy edit; being conscious of the fact that I have another writing project to deal with, a personal writing assignment that also has a deadline; getting excited about some personal traveling plans; and with all that, trying to compose a dvar Torah for week's end.
In all honesty, I get flustered rather easily; this week is one of those weeks! I am a multi-tasker, but it ain't always so easy -- I lose what minimal organizational/time management skills that I still possess, and it's difficult for me to focus on several things at once...although I do it, and the end result is usually fine.
I have gathered several pages of resource notes for my upcoming vort, just have to ORGANIZE them now into some coherent line of thought. So momentarily I am putting that aside, and am reaching for my computer keyboard and my blog instead.
So what did I want to say? Hmmm.... Purim will be here tomorrow evening, so a Freiliche Purim to all -- drink, be merry and try to maintain that festive mood...at least all the way through to after Pesach, after the cleaning, shopping, cooking and eating has been completed; after the in-laws/out-laws have gone home after the seders and Yom Tov is over. Then you can let loose that heavy sigh that you've been holding in since...whenever!
I'm not big on Yom Tov preparations -- read: I don't enjoy them too much -- but I do enjoy the ambience, the je ne sais quoi that floats in the air pre-Yom Tov. I call it a Yom Tov fever: people scurrying about, rushing home with groceries, dry cleaning in the other hand. Main thoroughfares in Jewish neighborhoods are congested with foot traffic and car traffic as people hustle to meet the needs of the two-or-more-day holiday. I feel caught up in that fever, whether I'm sitting in a car and watching the scenes around me, or whether I'm out there, hustling and bustling with the best of them.
This Friday should be fun, driving to and from shul, and later on to and from a seudah at some friends. Car horns will be honking hysterically, costumes and masks will be seen out of car windows, the drivers disguised as they maneuver their vehicles in traffic. A fever once again, and after that, the fever of getting home in time to prepare for Shabbos. Wow, a constant fever -- but a good one. Hope you all get caught up in the fever, as well.
Now, a l'havdil... I read online today about a tragedy that befell a Teaneck, NJ, family yesterday; a house fire took the lives of four children, and their mother is in critical care in hospital. Two other children at home survived, and another one traveled home from Israel to be with her surviving family members. I understand that the father is not in the picture. What a sad, sad happening...on the threshhold of what is to be a festive holiday. We should all pray for a refuah shlema for the woman (you can no doubt Google her and her surviving children's names)and the remaining children, and pray for the lives that were lived -- and were lost -- much too soon.
I'm having a bit of a harried time this week, preparing Mishloach Manot packages for many little people, aka my children's friends; sending out donation cards in lieu of Mishloach Manot to most big people; getting children's costumes together; trying to work on a freelance job/manuscript that I have to copy edit; being conscious of the fact that I have another writing project to deal with, a personal writing assignment that also has a deadline; getting excited about some personal traveling plans; and with all that, trying to compose a dvar Torah for week's end.
In all honesty, I get flustered rather easily; this week is one of those weeks! I am a multi-tasker, but it ain't always so easy -- I lose what minimal organizational/time management skills that I still possess, and it's difficult for me to focus on several things at once...although I do it, and the end result is usually fine.
I have gathered several pages of resource notes for my upcoming vort, just have to ORGANIZE them now into some coherent line of thought. So momentarily I am putting that aside, and am reaching for my computer keyboard and my blog instead.
So what did I want to say? Hmmm.... Purim will be here tomorrow evening, so a Freiliche Purim to all -- drink, be merry and try to maintain that festive mood...at least all the way through to after Pesach, after the cleaning, shopping, cooking and eating has been completed; after the in-laws/out-laws have gone home after the seders and Yom Tov is over. Then you can let loose that heavy sigh that you've been holding in since...whenever!
I'm not big on Yom Tov preparations -- read: I don't enjoy them too much -- but I do enjoy the ambience, the je ne sais quoi that floats in the air pre-Yom Tov. I call it a Yom Tov fever: people scurrying about, rushing home with groceries, dry cleaning in the other hand. Main thoroughfares in Jewish neighborhoods are congested with foot traffic and car traffic as people hustle to meet the needs of the two-or-more-day holiday. I feel caught up in that fever, whether I'm sitting in a car and watching the scenes around me, or whether I'm out there, hustling and bustling with the best of them.
This Friday should be fun, driving to and from shul, and later on to and from a seudah at some friends. Car horns will be honking hysterically, costumes and masks will be seen out of car windows, the drivers disguised as they maneuver their vehicles in traffic. A fever once again, and after that, the fever of getting home in time to prepare for Shabbos. Wow, a constant fever -- but a good one. Hope you all get caught up in the fever, as well.
Now, a l'havdil... I read online today about a tragedy that befell a Teaneck, NJ, family yesterday; a house fire took the lives of four children, and their mother is in critical care in hospital. Two other children at home survived, and another one traveled home from Israel to be with her surviving family members. I understand that the father is not in the picture. What a sad, sad happening...on the threshhold of what is to be a festive holiday. We should all pray for a refuah shlema for the woman (you can no doubt Google her and her surviving children's names)and the remaining children, and pray for the lives that were lived -- and were lost -- much too soon.
Hey, What's Up with This? aka An Ode to Some Blogs
Blogroll Me!
I have a list of about a dozen blogs that I click on religiously several times a day; not only do I enjoy the posts, I also enjoy the comments, and so I sporadically look to see if anything new was added to any of the blogs.
I was just looking in the computer margin at my list of favorite blogs, and what did I see? PEARLIES OF WISDOM appears at the bottom of the list. Was that some Freudian slip of a thing -- do I not enjoy my own words; am I doing the Jewish mother sacrifice thing ("Okay, okay, you first. I'll just and wait patiently at the back of the line..."); or am I just being modest?
Who knows? But the list ended up looking like this:
Seraphic Press, http://www.seraphicpress.com
A Simple Jew http://asimplejew.blogspot.com
Yettabettaboo http://yettabettaboo.blogspot.com
Five Years Later http://fiveyearslater.blogspot.com
CharediWannabe http://charediwannabe.blogspot.com
Ink as Rain http://inkasrain.blogspot.com
Random Thoughts, aka Jack's Shack http://wwwjackbenimble.blogspot.com
DovBear http://dovbear.blogspot.com
Stacey's Shmata http://pesharachel.blogspot.com
A Window into Ours http://jwindow.blogspot.com
Kerckhoff Coffeehouse http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com
Pearlies of Wisdom (you're reading this, so you must know how you got here!!)
Now although your blog might appear on the list at # 9, rather than # 3, don't fret. I realized that things (aside from mine on the list) look as they do because I listed these blogs as favorites as I discovered them and frequented them. You might be a late entry on the favorites list, but still consider yourself most worthy. I don't read JUST ANYTHING, and each of you offers entertaining, eye-opening, stimulating thoughts and perspectives.
The blogs and the writers behind them range: there are parents who have lost children and are working through their pain, taking the reader along on their journeys; people who are parents and are contending with life issues and family issues thrown their way; young adults who are in high school or finishing college, who have yet to truly discover the world; a group of pals (and a wife!) who like to comment on the world at large, politics and all; medical experts, who are also experts at humor; religious people who provide wonderful inspiring thoughts. Some of the writers are very wordy and detailed, giving more information than necessary, while others believe that less says more -- and sometimes they're right!
However, all these blogs help broaden my horizons, giving me a look at lives different -- some minimally, some extremely -- than my own. These blogs and the writers behind them help minimize the geographical distances, the intellectual distances and the emotional distances between us.
So keep writing, and I'll keep reading...
I have a list of about a dozen blogs that I click on religiously several times a day; not only do I enjoy the posts, I also enjoy the comments, and so I sporadically look to see if anything new was added to any of the blogs.
I was just looking in the computer margin at my list of favorite blogs, and what did I see? PEARLIES OF WISDOM appears at the bottom of the list. Was that some Freudian slip of a thing -- do I not enjoy my own words; am I doing the Jewish mother sacrifice thing ("Okay, okay, you first. I'll just and wait patiently at the back of the line..."); or am I just being modest?
Who knows? But the list ended up looking like this:
Seraphic Press, http://www.seraphicpress.com
A Simple Jew http://asimplejew.blogspot.com
Yettabettaboo http://yettabettaboo.blogspot.com
Five Years Later http://fiveyearslater.blogspot.com
CharediWannabe http://charediwannabe.blogspot.com
Ink as Rain http://inkasrain.blogspot.com
Random Thoughts, aka Jack's Shack http://wwwjackbenimble.blogspot.com
DovBear http://dovbear.blogspot.com
Stacey's Shmata http://pesharachel.blogspot.com
A Window into Ours http://jwindow.blogspot.com
Kerckhoff Coffeehouse http://kerckhoff.blogspot.com
Pearlies of Wisdom (you're reading this, so you must know how you got here!!)
Now although your blog might appear on the list at # 9, rather than # 3, don't fret. I realized that things (aside from mine on the list) look as they do because I listed these blogs as favorites as I discovered them and frequented them. You might be a late entry on the favorites list, but still consider yourself most worthy. I don't read JUST ANYTHING, and each of you offers entertaining, eye-opening, stimulating thoughts and perspectives.
The blogs and the writers behind them range: there are parents who have lost children and are working through their pain, taking the reader along on their journeys; people who are parents and are contending with life issues and family issues thrown their way; young adults who are in high school or finishing college, who have yet to truly discover the world; a group of pals (and a wife!) who like to comment on the world at large, politics and all; medical experts, who are also experts at humor; religious people who provide wonderful inspiring thoughts. Some of the writers are very wordy and detailed, giving more information than necessary, while others believe that less says more -- and sometimes they're right!
However, all these blogs help broaden my horizons, giving me a look at lives different -- some minimally, some extremely -- than my own. These blogs and the writers behind them help minimize the geographical distances, the intellectual distances and the emotional distances between us.
So keep writing, and I'll keep reading...
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Picture This!
Blogroll Me!
Once upon a time I was one of the most organized, attentive-to-details people around. After all, it was in my genes, part of the nurture/nature syndrome.
What happened? I got married, I had children, I kept a full-time job. One would think those would all be incentives to remain organized and well-managed. Nuh-uh. Not for this chickie.
It's tough, and as hard as we try to arrange and organize, my husband and I are actually redesigning and moving all the time. We're redesigning this pile of stuff and moving it to that pile of stuff. I have a nice-sized home, but 11 1/2 years after getting married, I still have many things at my parents' home because I don't know where to put it in my home. (and their home is MUCH SMALLER than ours, with lots less room) When my father motions for me to take something home from my personal hoarded stock, I say, "Dad, I will...eventually. I just don't know where to put it!"
Among my "accumulations" are photographs. I stopped putting photographs in albums about 8 1/2 years ago -- I kept the film-developing envelopes in grocery market bags. It is a real sore point with my hubby. He says, "If someone visits and asks to see photos of A. when he was in grade one, which supermarket bag will I pull out? Loblaws or Sobeys or No Frills?!"
Yes, to see these bags, wherever they are dispersed in the house, is a painful reminder for me as to the archiving job that lays ahead, and the job I neglected to do for so many years. But I can't JUST put them randomly in an album, either. I may not be so organized anymore, but I AM still very detail-oriented, and I'd have to look at each shot and decide when/where it was taken and write the details on the back of the snapshot. (even though the backside wouldn't be visible when said snapshot is placed in an album) Meshugas, I know...
I think I need about two weeks of fifteen-hour days to correctly assemble and archive and house these photos in some semblance of order. Anybody have any free time to help organize this photographic genizah? Contact me, and we'll see WHAT DEVELOPS...
Once upon a time I was one of the most organized, attentive-to-details people around. After all, it was in my genes, part of the nurture/nature syndrome.
What happened? I got married, I had children, I kept a full-time job. One would think those would all be incentives to remain organized and well-managed. Nuh-uh. Not for this chickie.
It's tough, and as hard as we try to arrange and organize, my husband and I are actually redesigning and moving all the time. We're redesigning this pile of stuff and moving it to that pile of stuff. I have a nice-sized home, but 11 1/2 years after getting married, I still have many things at my parents' home because I don't know where to put it in my home. (and their home is MUCH SMALLER than ours, with lots less room) When my father motions for me to take something home from my personal hoarded stock, I say, "Dad, I will...eventually. I just don't know where to put it!"
Among my "accumulations" are photographs. I stopped putting photographs in albums about 8 1/2 years ago -- I kept the film-developing envelopes in grocery market bags. It is a real sore point with my hubby. He says, "If someone visits and asks to see photos of A. when he was in grade one, which supermarket bag will I pull out? Loblaws or Sobeys or No Frills?!"
Yes, to see these bags, wherever they are dispersed in the house, is a painful reminder for me as to the archiving job that lays ahead, and the job I neglected to do for so many years. But I can't JUST put them randomly in an album, either. I may not be so organized anymore, but I AM still very detail-oriented, and I'd have to look at each shot and decide when/where it was taken and write the details on the back of the snapshot. (even though the backside wouldn't be visible when said snapshot is placed in an album) Meshugas, I know...
I think I need about two weeks of fifteen-hour days to correctly assemble and archive and house these photos in some semblance of order. Anybody have any free time to help organize this photographic genizah? Contact me, and we'll see WHAT DEVELOPS...
The Four Ghosts of Inauguration
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I'm so not a political-minded person, and I mean no offense to my American readers, but I just LOVED this joke that reached me via e-mail, from an American point of origin.
The Four Ghosts of Inauguration
One night, George W. Bush is tossing restlessly in his White House
bed. He awakens to see George Washington's ghost standing by
him. Bush asks him, "George, what's the best thing I can do to help
the country?"
"Set an honest and honorable example, just as I did," Washington
advises, and then fades away.
The next night, Bush is astir again, and sees the ghost of Thomas
Jefferson moving through the darkened bedroom. Bush calls
out, "Tom, please! What is the best thing I can do to help the country?"
"Respect the Constitution, as I did," Jefferson advises, and dims from
sight.
The third night, sleep is still not in the cards for Bush. He awakens
to see the ghost of FDR hovering over his bed. Bush whispers,
"Franklin, what is the best thing I can do to help the country?"
"Help the less fortunate, just as I did," FDR replies and fades into
the mist.
Bush isn't sleeping well the fourth night when he sees another figure
moving in the shadows. It is the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Bush pleads,
"Abe, what is the best thing I can do right now to help the country?"
Lincoln replies, "Go see a play."
I'm so not a political-minded person, and I mean no offense to my American readers, but I just LOVED this joke that reached me via e-mail, from an American point of origin.
The Four Ghosts of Inauguration
One night, George W. Bush is tossing restlessly in his White House
bed. He awakens to see George Washington's ghost standing by
him. Bush asks him, "George, what's the best thing I can do to help
the country?"
"Set an honest and honorable example, just as I did," Washington
advises, and then fades away.
The next night, Bush is astir again, and sees the ghost of Thomas
Jefferson moving through the darkened bedroom. Bush calls
out, "Tom, please! What is the best thing I can do to help the country?"
"Respect the Constitution, as I did," Jefferson advises, and dims from
sight.
The third night, sleep is still not in the cards for Bush. He awakens
to see the ghost of FDR hovering over his bed. Bush whispers,
"Franklin, what is the best thing I can do to help the country?"
"Help the less fortunate, just as I did," FDR replies and fades into
the mist.
Bush isn't sleeping well the fourth night when he sees another figure
moving in the shadows. It is the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Bush pleads,
"Abe, what is the best thing I can do right now to help the country?"
Lincoln replies, "Go see a play."
Monday, March 21, 2005
More on Giving and Taking
Blogroll Me!
This is a footnote to my previous blog. Interpret how you will...
"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers..." (Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire)
"...In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." (Anne Frank, The Diary of Anne Frank)
It is nice to meet people, even if only online, who are good at heart and most kind.
Hope some of them cross your paths, as well.
This is a footnote to my previous blog. Interpret how you will...
"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers..." (Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire)
"...In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." (Anne Frank, The Diary of Anne Frank)
It is nice to meet people, even if only online, who are good at heart and most kind.
Hope some of them cross your paths, as well.
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