I wrote a letter on Sunday to my first cousin (who flew in and delivered the first hesped at my dad's funeral service), his wife and children, and to his mother -- who, thankfully, survived the war with my father.
...We have now lost someone very precious to us – a father, husband, grandfather, brother, uncle: Yaakov Arieh ha-Levi.
You well know what my father was about: what human and Torah values he upheld, what respect he commanded from others when he did not seek it, what nurturing he and my mother provided, what goodness sustained him, what survivor personality helped him endure.
So many times he was hospitalized; so many times did he return home….a little worse for wear, but with all his fine attributes intact. These attributes shone through to his last days.
Yes, it was a difficult week for us, as I’m sure it was for you. But it was a much-needed week, and on my father’s behalf, a much deserved week. I’ve always felt sorry for people who haven’t had the opportunity to sit shiva for more than an hour because of a Yom Tov. As others have said, it truly is helpful.
It isn’t that I heard lots of nostalgic stories throughout the week, but it’s the people who came to pay a shiva call or those who called us from all points in the world. It was overwhelming and heartwarming to see people from all walks, from all stripes – from our various schools and universities, from our shuls, from our social circles, etc. They came out of the woodwork to honour our father’s memory…and our family.
For that reason, I wasn’t so sad; I remained composed throughout the week of his last illness, and through my father’s petirah [burial] and shiva. More than anything I’m grateful – because we had my father for so many years, and because of the solid foundation he and my mother provided for us; I’m proud of my father’s strong belief in Hashem and his always keeping his siddur or Tehillim close at hand – and making constant use of them. My father was always the “ehrliche Yid.” I am also thankful that my father is no longer in pain and that his neshama is reunited with those whom he loved dearly and missed terribly for all those years.
It is these emotions that supercede any sadness and true grief. I know that I will have many moments when I am sad because of my loss, and perhaps people cannot understand that I haven’t been crying all this time, but my father was all goodness, and that knowledge sustains me...
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Hesped (Eulogy) for My Father
For several years, I used to think how I would honor my father in a hesped...what stories I would tell, what descriptions I would use.
But when it came time, the morning of March 8th, to write the words, I decided that less is more. Sure I could tell anecdotes galore -- who can't!? -- but my father was a simple and quiet man and I knew that my choice of words would hold much strength.
My two brothers spoke, and my first cousin who flew in from NY also spoke. In essence, we each said the same things, without having consulted one another. That is a true indicator that we spoke the truth, and those things we chose to say, reflect the beautiful legacy that my father left us with.
Here is the hesped I said:
Eesh Taam v’yashar. A man who lived his life straight and with great morals and integrity.
He valued and lived by common decency, strong Jewish traditions and a deep Kavanah/
faith in Hashem, hard work and a rich family life. My father was a firm believer in hachnasat orchim – the welcoming of guests – and he and my mother were open-armed to everyone.
Generous with all he had, always giving – rarely, if ever, receiving. Always trying to better life for his wife, for his children, while at the same time content with his lot. He chose to never move to a bigger house or buy big-ticket items and it was rare for him to reward himself in any way.
He raised us on shmirat ha-lashon – staying clear of slander or gossip. A few years ago, the wife of one of my father’s best friends told me, “I never heard your dad say a bad word about anyone.” To me, that was the greatest compliment because I knew it was true.
Loved by children, friends, family, and customers, my father was a charming, decent and kind man whose reputation preceded him in every way.
Although he was hospitalized several times over the years, for serious and lengthy stays, he managed to endure, my mother closely at his side. When asked “How do you feel?” he responded with “Not too bad, thank you.” His attitude and survivor mentality always came with the tag line “Let’s hope for the best.” And together, we always did!
Michael’s friend, Salem Alaton, left a beautiful note in the online memorial book. It describes my father very well. I quote: “Jacob endured so much in his life with great strength and fortitude, creating a richly fulfilling environment for his young family after the horrors of Europe. A life lived as a tremendous act of defiance in the wake of the senseless hatreds that took away so much from him.”
To extend on that, I want to read a poem I wrote and published a few years ago. It gave me great pleasure to have my father hear me read the poem at a public reading because this poem represents his life.
THE PLUM TREE
i.
Young boy – a son and brother –
You are a mentor and protector
to so many. Uprooted at an early age –
father deceased, mother struggling to raise
a young family.
ii.
The streets of your village
are awash with scholars
who study with the great rebbe –
Talmud, Mishnah, Chumash, Halacha.
You peer through the dusty cheder windows,
longing to join them.
You are too young yet.
And yet, you are too old…
The branch that your mother
and siblings cling to for support.
You must bear fruit for the others,
and labor to do so.
iii.
Nature can be merciless at times,
giving and then taking away,
wiping out traces of life and beauty.
In time, a dreadful storm comes,
wiping out that cheder, that village…
your dear ones.
iv.
But you, thank God,
have been able to root temporarily
in other places.
And slowly, slowly, you awaken
after that harsh, stormy winter.
Weakened, you are warmed by the sun;
your fragility begins to heal.
And you are replanted yet again.
v.
A husband. A father.
A mentor and protector once more.
You move silently into your verdant garden and kneel,
shovel and soil beside you.
You recall Leviticus 19:23.
“And when you arrive in the land, plant all manner of fruit trees…”
vi.
You are giving back to the earth,
Enriching it with new life. A plum tree.
Roots clinging to the cool earth, the tree grows,
flourishes…its branches strong.
Over time it bears fruit, and more fruit.
You harvest from its sweet gifts –
again and again,
repeating the cycle each year.
And you remember your roots…
vii.
“And he shall be like a tree planted by
the rivers of water,
that bringeth forth his fruit in his season;
his leaf also shall not wither;
and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”
Psalms 1:3
[and then I ad-libbed and said something like:]
Since I was a little girl, my father and I had a sign-off, “Me-la-la,” which means “I love you.”
[I looked at the coffin at this point]
“Me-la-la, Dad. May you rest in peace.”
But when it came time, the morning of March 8th, to write the words, I decided that less is more. Sure I could tell anecdotes galore -- who can't!? -- but my father was a simple and quiet man and I knew that my choice of words would hold much strength.
My two brothers spoke, and my first cousin who flew in from NY also spoke. In essence, we each said the same things, without having consulted one another. That is a true indicator that we spoke the truth, and those things we chose to say, reflect the beautiful legacy that my father left us with.
Here is the hesped I said:
Eesh Taam v’yashar. A man who lived his life straight and with great morals and integrity.
He valued and lived by common decency, strong Jewish traditions and a deep Kavanah/
faith in Hashem, hard work and a rich family life. My father was a firm believer in hachnasat orchim – the welcoming of guests – and he and my mother were open-armed to everyone.
Generous with all he had, always giving – rarely, if ever, receiving. Always trying to better life for his wife, for his children, while at the same time content with his lot. He chose to never move to a bigger house or buy big-ticket items and it was rare for him to reward himself in any way.
He raised us on shmirat ha-lashon – staying clear of slander or gossip. A few years ago, the wife of one of my father’s best friends told me, “I never heard your dad say a bad word about anyone.” To me, that was the greatest compliment because I knew it was true.
Loved by children, friends, family, and customers, my father was a charming, decent and kind man whose reputation preceded him in every way.
Although he was hospitalized several times over the years, for serious and lengthy stays, he managed to endure, my mother closely at his side. When asked “How do you feel?” he responded with “Not too bad, thank you.” His attitude and survivor mentality always came with the tag line “Let’s hope for the best.” And together, we always did!
Michael’s friend, Salem Alaton, left a beautiful note in the online memorial book. It describes my father very well. I quote: “Jacob endured so much in his life with great strength and fortitude, creating a richly fulfilling environment for his young family after the horrors of Europe. A life lived as a tremendous act of defiance in the wake of the senseless hatreds that took away so much from him.”
To extend on that, I want to read a poem I wrote and published a few years ago. It gave me great pleasure to have my father hear me read the poem at a public reading because this poem represents his life.
THE PLUM TREE
i.
Young boy – a son and brother –
You are a mentor and protector
to so many. Uprooted at an early age –
father deceased, mother struggling to raise
a young family.
ii.
The streets of your village
are awash with scholars
who study with the great rebbe –
Talmud, Mishnah, Chumash, Halacha.
You peer through the dusty cheder windows,
longing to join them.
You are too young yet.
And yet, you are too old…
The branch that your mother
and siblings cling to for support.
You must bear fruit for the others,
and labor to do so.
iii.
Nature can be merciless at times,
giving and then taking away,
wiping out traces of life and beauty.
In time, a dreadful storm comes,
wiping out that cheder, that village…
your dear ones.
iv.
But you, thank God,
have been able to root temporarily
in other places.
And slowly, slowly, you awaken
after that harsh, stormy winter.
Weakened, you are warmed by the sun;
your fragility begins to heal.
And you are replanted yet again.
v.
A husband. A father.
A mentor and protector once more.
You move silently into your verdant garden and kneel,
shovel and soil beside you.
You recall Leviticus 19:23.
“And when you arrive in the land, plant all manner of fruit trees…”
vi.
You are giving back to the earth,
Enriching it with new life. A plum tree.
Roots clinging to the cool earth, the tree grows,
flourishes…its branches strong.
Over time it bears fruit, and more fruit.
You harvest from its sweet gifts –
again and again,
repeating the cycle each year.
And you remember your roots…
vii.
“And he shall be like a tree planted by
the rivers of water,
that bringeth forth his fruit in his season;
his leaf also shall not wither;
and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”
Psalms 1:3
[and then I ad-libbed and said something like:]
Since I was a little girl, my father and I had a sign-off, “Me-la-la,” which means “I love you.”
[I looked at the coffin at this point]
“Me-la-la, Dad. May you rest in peace.”
Sunday, March 15, 2009
A Final Resting Place
My beloved father passed away last Sunday, March 8, 12th Adar, at 5:55 a.m. and his funeral service was at 3:00 that afternoon. Shiva was held this past week at my parents' house, and we got up midday Friday because of the onset of Shabbos.
There is much to say about the week of shiva, about my father's last days, and about the man himself, but now is not the time. Suffice is to say that Jacob Adler was a loved, respected and admired man by all whose path crossed his.
Life works rather mysteriously. I've written in the past about my father's early years and the fact that he lost his father when he was only 6 1/2, and a baby sister was born two months after the father died. There were also two other sisters between my father and the baby.
Unfortunately, one sister died of acute appendicitis in a neighboring town during the Holocaust, and the youngest sister died along with my grandmother in their hometown, slaughtered by the Nazis. My father and one sister were sole survivors.
A number of years ago, my parents traveled to Israel together for the first time and went to Yad Vashem. My parents thought that they should register my grandmother's name at least, but lo and behold, when they looked up her name, it had already been registered, by a former neighbor. To say my father was emotionally moved is an understatement. He so wanted to be able to seek out that former neighbor and thank her for remembering his mother, but she had already passed away.
About a year or so ago, after seeing several reminders in Jewish newspapers for people to register names of those who perished in the Holocaust, my mother and father decided that my father's two younger sisters should also be remembered at Yad Vashem. My mother completed the form, sent it in and was told it had been received, but it could take up to a year or more to actually do the formal registration.
Every few weeks while I thought of it, I checked the Yad Vashem website for the names to see if they were already listed. Deep down, I always hoped that the names would appear in my father's lifetime so that he could be at rest knowing that his sisters also had a final and proper resting place...in an archives at least, if not in real life.
When my father passed away on Sunday, I even checked the website, and was disappointed to not see my aunts' names. If I recall, I even checked on Thursday evening, when I came home from the shiva house to sleep in my own home.
I just looked at the website before I began to write this post, and lo and behold there were my aunts' names and brief description of when they died. I started to weep.
The shiva is over; the neshama (soul) of my father was said to be hovering in the home for the week. Tonight we went back to my parents' house after Shabbos to take the customary short walk that some people do after getting up from shiva, the neshama (soul) then taking its leave, rising toward the heavens.
How timely for these Yad Vashem listings to appear now, at the end of shiva, with my father's neshama departing. I am grateful as well as awestruck.
Indeed a sign of Hashgacha Pratis at work.
My father can now rest in eternal peace, his soul reunited with those of his loved ones.
May my father, grandmother, grandfather and aunts be united in a better place.
Amen.
There is much to say about the week of shiva, about my father's last days, and about the man himself, but now is not the time. Suffice is to say that Jacob Adler was a loved, respected and admired man by all whose path crossed his.
Life works rather mysteriously. I've written in the past about my father's early years and the fact that he lost his father when he was only 6 1/2, and a baby sister was born two months after the father died. There were also two other sisters between my father and the baby.
Unfortunately, one sister died of acute appendicitis in a neighboring town during the Holocaust, and the youngest sister died along with my grandmother in their hometown, slaughtered by the Nazis. My father and one sister were sole survivors.
A number of years ago, my parents traveled to Israel together for the first time and went to Yad Vashem. My parents thought that they should register my grandmother's name at least, but lo and behold, when they looked up her name, it had already been registered, by a former neighbor. To say my father was emotionally moved is an understatement. He so wanted to be able to seek out that former neighbor and thank her for remembering his mother, but she had already passed away.
About a year or so ago, after seeing several reminders in Jewish newspapers for people to register names of those who perished in the Holocaust, my mother and father decided that my father's two younger sisters should also be remembered at Yad Vashem. My mother completed the form, sent it in and was told it had been received, but it could take up to a year or more to actually do the formal registration.
Every few weeks while I thought of it, I checked the Yad Vashem website for the names to see if they were already listed. Deep down, I always hoped that the names would appear in my father's lifetime so that he could be at rest knowing that his sisters also had a final and proper resting place...in an archives at least, if not in real life.
When my father passed away on Sunday, I even checked the website, and was disappointed to not see my aunts' names. If I recall, I even checked on Thursday evening, when I came home from the shiva house to sleep in my own home.
I just looked at the website before I began to write this post, and lo and behold there were my aunts' names and brief description of when they died. I started to weep.
The shiva is over; the neshama (soul) of my father was said to be hovering in the home for the week. Tonight we went back to my parents' house after Shabbos to take the customary short walk that some people do after getting up from shiva, the neshama (soul) then taking its leave, rising toward the heavens.
How timely for these Yad Vashem listings to appear now, at the end of shiva, with my father's neshama departing. I am grateful as well as awestruck.
Indeed a sign of Hashgacha Pratis at work.
My father can now rest in eternal peace, his soul reunited with those of his loved ones.
May my father, grandmother, grandfather and aunts be united in a better place.
Amen.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Living for the City/Sity (thanks, Stevie Wonder!)
My verbosity comes with velocity
and I definitely have a curiosity...with words.
and a generosity...with words.
Hopefully I'm not a monstrosity...with words.
I prefer to be considered a Travelocity...with words.
Is this poem a pomposity..with words?
Monday, February 23, 2009
Oh, Isn't It Nice To Dream?
Do any of you ACTUALLY know anyone who was written up in the New York Times' wedding/social pages?
I like to look at them from time to time to see how people present themselves to the world and to their intended spouse and future in-laws.
Of course, I could never have appeared in there.
Pearl Adler, of Toronto, Canada, is to wed Ron Saban on December 19, 1993 at the Paradise Hall, with Rabbi J. Burak officiating. She will gladly take on the Saban name as her own, even if it means a hassle with having to change all official documentation and her nameplate at work.
Mr. Saban, who was born in Israel and raised in Winnipeg, Canada, is a controller for a medical lab. Ms. Adler, who was born and raised in Toronto, is a copy editor with Harlequin Books, Inc.
The couple met briefly in synagogue when Mr. Saban was dating one of Ms. Adler's friends. A year later, someone officially set them up. The rest is history.
The not-so-young couple will reside in Toronto, and will honeymoon in the early part of 1994...their destination being wherever they get the best sell-off vacation!
The couple's parents prefer not to be mentioned on this page; they are extremely modest people. Suffice it to say that they are very happy with the upcoming nuptials and with their children's choice of spouse.
I like to look at them from time to time to see how people present themselves to the world and to their intended spouse and future in-laws.
Of course, I could never have appeared in there.
Pearl Adler, of Toronto, Canada, is to wed Ron Saban on December 19, 1993 at the Paradise Hall, with Rabbi J. Burak officiating. She will gladly take on the Saban name as her own, even if it means a hassle with having to change all official documentation and her nameplate at work.
Mr. Saban, who was born in Israel and raised in Winnipeg, Canada, is a controller for a medical lab. Ms. Adler, who was born and raised in Toronto, is a copy editor with Harlequin Books, Inc.
The couple met briefly in synagogue when Mr. Saban was dating one of Ms. Adler's friends. A year later, someone officially set them up. The rest is history.
The not-so-young couple will reside in Toronto, and will honeymoon in the early part of 1994...their destination being wherever they get the best sell-off vacation!
The couple's parents prefer not to be mentioned on this page; they are extremely modest people. Suffice it to say that they are very happy with the upcoming nuptials and with their children's choice of spouse.
Interesting Meme I Spotted
Album cover meme
1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”or click
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 - Go to "Random quotations"or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 - Go to "Random quotations"or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.
Keep It? Toss It? Keep It? Toss It?
I am what one would call....how do you say it?...a PACK RAT! I hoard items for what I deem sentimental value or because I think they might prove to be needed at some time in the future.
In my parents' house, there is a place for everything. In my house, there is everything and no place to house it!
I used to collect all, and I mean every single one, of my kids' art pieces when I lived in our last house. One day, I figured, one of them might grow up to become an artist, and they might want to review the chicken scratch artwork they did in preschool. It wasn't even as if I was displaying their drawings, but I was boxing them and drawering them scattered throughout the house.
One day, before our intended move, my husband insisted I toss much of the artwork. "Save a few pieces from each child" was his suggestion. Believe me, when I say it was difficult to do.
When I think about what I saved, it was probably the same piece done by each of the kids when they were each in that same grade. So it might've been a Purim megillah (times three) that I saved from senior kindergarten, and a Rosh Hashanah letter written to the family saved from grade two.
Since we moved over five years ago, I have cut back on some of the collected artwork, but I have still saved many other items.
Yesterday, I spent a few morning hours going through my armoire drawers -- normally meant for clothing, but not in my case! -- and gathering all types of cards I've collected over the years. All the birthday cards for each child and for my husband and myself, anniversary cards, our engagement cards and wedding cards. I categorized them in large manila envelopes and put them together in a clear box, which I'll shelve in another bedroom cupboard.
I have other boxes such as this in my walk-in closet. They house other written collections: an entire five year or so letter collection from a pen-pal I had in Long Island from the time I was about twelve; a collection of earlier b'day cards and postcards and mail that I wanted to keep over the years. I truly don't need all these bits and pieces of my past, 'cause I don't even make the time to take these boxes down from the shelves and give up three hours to read through their contents. I'm just afraid that if I do toss them, I'll be sorry.
I've learned through experience, though, and from hearing stories, that it's easier to do the tossing yourself than somewhere, years down the road, having some family members just dump everything because the contents of such boxes have no meaning to them.
Sometime last year or the year before, my mother handed me an envelope. It was filled with congratulatory cards she'd received when I was born back in September 1961. I'm so glad she never tossed those cards, but knew exactly where in the house she could retrieve those cards from to pass along to me. I'd like to think that one day I might do the same for my children.
"Here, Avi/Adina/Noam, here are all the birthday cards you ever received from family and friends."
AVI: "What am I supposed to do with these?"
ADINA: "Thanks." And she'd probably proceed to look through them, laugh and remember friends' names and personalities.
NOAM: "What am I supposed to do with these?"
Sometimes I wish I weren't so sentimental. But then again, I volunteered, doing archival work for many years, and I think that all my collections -- which might not really mean much to others -- tell a story and reveal who I was, who I am, and who I might (still) become.
All those journals, letters I wrote while spending six months in Israel, snippets of ideas that never yet became literary pieces, reveal more about me than just what's on the surface.
Anybody want to learn more about me? My archive hours are Monday thru Friday from 9:00 a.m. to 12 noon. No sign-out privileges.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Worthy of a Smile
I received a comment today on a blog post of mine, and the person also told me this wonderful little tidbit, that is worthy of being shared.
When my niece Sarah was 2 (she is now 20), and was put on the phone to talk to her Nana (my Mom) and give her a Sabbath greeting, little Sarah says, in a sweet and earnest voice: "Good Shopping Nana".
When my niece Sarah was 2 (she is now 20), and was put on the phone to talk to her Nana (my Mom) and give her a Sabbath greeting, little Sarah says, in a sweet and earnest voice: "Good Shopping Nana".
Camp...for the Non-Camper
I've never been to overnight camp...or I believe in America it's called sleepaway camp. But I did recently sort of get to go to camp and experience it through the eyes of Mindy Schneider, in her wonderful book NOT A HAPPY CAMPER.
Although the book came out in 2007, I, the quintessential "late bloomer" recently discovered it.
The book became, for the most part, my Shabbos reading for a couple of weeks. It helped pass the hours, as I lived -- can't even say "re-lived" -- a Jewish overnight camp experience in Maine.
Not just any camp, but Camp Kin-A-Hurra. Isn't that just the best name!? I kept wondering if it was real or made-up. Saul Rattner, the camp owner, must've really tried to ward off the evil eye as best as he could, but once you begin reading this book, you'll discover that the camp and the campers don't have the best mazel!
Do take the time to sit back, put some bug spray on your arms, suntan lotion on your nose and wear a wide brimmed hat as you prepare to delve into Mindy Schneider's camp world of yesteryear -- the early seventies.
You'll laugh, you'll smile, you might even cry...from laughing so hard. Mindy has captured the culture of being a young teen in the 1970s, hoping to have her first boyfriend by summer's end, and making some new friends along the way.
There are photos, camp songs, and secrets tossed the reader's way throughout the book. All together, they make for a fine nostalgic walk down memory lane...if you can avoid the poison ivy, that is!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
When News Items Are Within Reach
We all know of the tremendously tragic airline crash that happened last week in the region of Buffalo, New York. It is a horrible news item that just makes peoples' ears and eyes open.
We read about the victims, we read about where they were coming from and where they were going to, we read about their accomplishments and their families and their personal lives.
In their deaths, each one comes alive.
My family and I traveled this past weekend to Buffalo and Niagara Falls, Ontario. It was a long weekend in Ontario -- Family Day on Monday -- a government's excuse to break up a long, dark winter. It was also President's Day in the U.S.
We went for shopping in Buffalo and for waterpark fun in Niagara Falls.
And in spite of the spirited, fun and relaxing reason for this family getaway, it was marked by a harsh type of reality.
We checked in to our Buffalo-area hotel late Sunday afternoon, and I noticed several men in the lobby. Each time we went back down to the lobby for whatever reason, I noticed these men wearing fire and ambulance service jackets. I had a thought surface at the back of my mind, and on Monday morning, when I went to the lobby, that thought was firmed up.
There, in the lobby sitting area, were tables filled with about a dozen people eating breakfast -- most of them wore jackets with American Red Cross identifying them, and there were others with NTSB -- for National Transportation Safety Board -- on their jackets and bags. They were casually eating breakfast and watching the TV screen from time to time. When the news reporter started talking about the memorial services and the counselling services and news items about the airline crash, they were all attentively watching and listening to the TV screen.
I spoke to one of the Red Cross women: "I guess you're here dealing with the horrible crash."
Her: "Yes."
Me: "How far is it from here?"
Her: "About 5 miles."
Me: "It was truly horrible, and must be so difficult dealing with this incident. You must need counselling yourself afterwards."
Her: she laughs and says "You're right...and I'm a mental health worker myself."
I wish her strength and offer up my hope that she will not have to deal with such a tragic ordeal for a long, long time.
While checking out, I spoke to the desk clerk and told her how I noticed all the emergency personnel staying at the hotel. Our hotel was in a semi circle with about 3 other hotels surrounding it. I said, "These hotels must be filled with more of such personnel."
The clerk said yes, then told me that the families of the victims were staying in the hotel across the driveway from ours.
We can choose to listen to news items or we can look away from the TV screen details as they're described and depicted repeatedly. But when you're in the area of such a tragedy and tangible hints of it surround you, you really can't avoid the harsh reality.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the family, friends, co-workers and communities of all the victims of Continental Airlines Flight 3407...those on the airplane and the one victim on the ground, in whose home the plane crashed.
May they all rest in peace.
We read about the victims, we read about where they were coming from and where they were going to, we read about their accomplishments and their families and their personal lives.
In their deaths, each one comes alive.
My family and I traveled this past weekend to Buffalo and Niagara Falls, Ontario. It was a long weekend in Ontario -- Family Day on Monday -- a government's excuse to break up a long, dark winter. It was also President's Day in the U.S.
We went for shopping in Buffalo and for waterpark fun in Niagara Falls.
And in spite of the spirited, fun and relaxing reason for this family getaway, it was marked by a harsh type of reality.
We checked in to our Buffalo-area hotel late Sunday afternoon, and I noticed several men in the lobby. Each time we went back down to the lobby for whatever reason, I noticed these men wearing fire and ambulance service jackets. I had a thought surface at the back of my mind, and on Monday morning, when I went to the lobby, that thought was firmed up.
There, in the lobby sitting area, were tables filled with about a dozen people eating breakfast -- most of them wore jackets with American Red Cross identifying them, and there were others with NTSB -- for National Transportation Safety Board -- on their jackets and bags. They were casually eating breakfast and watching the TV screen from time to time. When the news reporter started talking about the memorial services and the counselling services and news items about the airline crash, they were all attentively watching and listening to the TV screen.
I spoke to one of the Red Cross women: "I guess you're here dealing with the horrible crash."
Her: "Yes."
Me: "How far is it from here?"
Her: "About 5 miles."
Me: "It was truly horrible, and must be so difficult dealing with this incident. You must need counselling yourself afterwards."
Her: she laughs and says "You're right...and I'm a mental health worker myself."
I wish her strength and offer up my hope that she will not have to deal with such a tragic ordeal for a long, long time.
While checking out, I spoke to the desk clerk and told her how I noticed all the emergency personnel staying at the hotel. Our hotel was in a semi circle with about 3 other hotels surrounding it. I said, "These hotels must be filled with more of such personnel."
The clerk said yes, then told me that the families of the victims were staying in the hotel across the driveway from ours.
We can choose to listen to news items or we can look away from the TV screen details as they're described and depicted repeatedly. But when you're in the area of such a tragedy and tangible hints of it surround you, you really can't avoid the harsh reality.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the family, friends, co-workers and communities of all the victims of Continental Airlines Flight 3407...those on the airplane and the one victim on the ground, in whose home the plane crashed.
May they all rest in peace.
Sunday, February 08, 2009
The Tushie Lady Is Born
Okay, so I'm fortysomething these days...edging slowly but surely to fiftysomething.
But when I was twentysomething, I was enjoying "thirtysomething"...with all its family dynamics, friendship dynamics, work dynamics and a wonderful cast.
I was a fan of Polly Draper who played Ellen, and Melanie Mayron, who played Melissa Steadman, a great photographer.
Turns out that aside from being an actress and director, Melanie is an enterprising businesswoman who, together with her father the chemist, has come up with a line of products -- diaper cream and a barrier cream for adults.
This line called Mayron's Good Baby has a cute intro story "behind" it. You can read about it at Melanie's blog.
A clean bottom is a happy bottom, so ...bottoms' up...with Mayron's Good Baby.
But when I was twentysomething, I was enjoying "thirtysomething"...with all its family dynamics, friendship dynamics, work dynamics and a wonderful cast.
I was a fan of Polly Draper who played Ellen, and Melanie Mayron, who played Melissa Steadman, a great photographer.
Turns out that aside from being an actress and director, Melanie is an enterprising businesswoman who, together with her father the chemist, has come up with a line of products -- diaper cream and a barrier cream for adults.
This line called Mayron's Good Baby has a cute intro story "behind" it. You can read about it at Melanie's blog.
A clean bottom is a happy bottom, so ...bottoms' up...with Mayron's Good Baby.
Whining about Wine
Got a mailing into the house from a wine/beer/liquor outlet and was perusing it today.
Even if these wines were Kosher, you would not see me buying any wine product that is called FAT BASTARD!
Could you imagine me hosting a dinner party and serving wine, handing a glass to a cherished friend and saying, "Here you go, Fat Bastard!" Don't think that friendship would last too long thereafter.
Nor would I be supporting DAN AYKROYD's label with his name on it. Is that supposed to sell me on his product? Yes, I know he's become a vintner, but I associate him with comedy, with Second City, with Saturday Night Live, with the Blues Brothers. Not with grape stomping and corks and bouquets.
I would find his vintage more appealing if his name were hidden in tiny print on the bottom of the back label, and if he just had a catchy name for his libation: Smooth & Rich. Okay, so maybe he is also smooth and rich as a person, but I'd never automatically assume that name is associated with Dan Aykroyd unless I read it somewhere.
A few years back I read about a wine that came in cartons. CARTONS? My kids' juice comes in cartons, milk comes in cartons. How could wine come in cartons? French Rabbit Wine? Merci, mais non. Pas pour moi.
Believe it or not, I'll settle for the old and familiar Manischewitz at times, Bartenura Moscato at other times or Rashi Joyvin. You can leave the Fat Bastard out of my wine cellar!
Monday, February 02, 2009
Slap My Wrist NOW!
I think I'm being punished from above.
I'm quite a nitpicker about typos and have begun to point them out to people more freely...but in a nice and "creative criticism" way.
Okay, I'm tired right now; the phone woke me up at 7:30 this a.m. from a deep sleep, and there's lots of stuff on my mind. But that is no excuse for this typo I just saw that I wrote...and that I have no way of retracting.
I found out about someone's father passing away and wrote in a guest/memorial book on a chapel website just now. I hit send, then reviewed my words.
"...may your father rest in peach."
Oh. My. G-d.
Not only is it a typo, it is a glaring, hideous error that thoroughly has embarrassed me. What will the mourners say when they read it?
I've looked through this guest/memorial book many times and have spotted lots of typos here and there and have silently wrist-slapped the person for their mistakes.
OYYYYY. I've become one of them.
I could go on and make jokes, nervous jokes about that particular typo I made, writing "peach" instead of "peace". But I won't.
Suffice it to say that I'm publicly embarrassed. My name is perpetually in that memorial book, assigned to what was supposed to be words of comfort. Turns out they became words of advice re. fashion colors!
I'm quite a nitpicker about typos and have begun to point them out to people more freely...but in a nice and "creative criticism" way.
Okay, I'm tired right now; the phone woke me up at 7:30 this a.m. from a deep sleep, and there's lots of stuff on my mind. But that is no excuse for this typo I just saw that I wrote...and that I have no way of retracting.
I found out about someone's father passing away and wrote in a guest/memorial book on a chapel website just now. I hit send, then reviewed my words.
"...may your father rest in peach."
Oh. My. G-d.
Not only is it a typo, it is a glaring, hideous error that thoroughly has embarrassed me. What will the mourners say when they read it?
I've looked through this guest/memorial book many times and have spotted lots of typos here and there and have silently wrist-slapped the person for their mistakes.
OYYYYY. I've become one of them.
I could go on and make jokes, nervous jokes about that particular typo I made, writing "peach" instead of "peace". But I won't.
Suffice it to say that I'm publicly embarrassed. My name is perpetually in that memorial book, assigned to what was supposed to be words of comfort. Turns out they became words of advice re. fashion colors!
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Inspired...
A few days ago, someone I'm in touch with via Facebook, wrote little snatches of a message to me. Those snatches held some wonderful imagery and information and I told the person that maybe I should write a poem...for that's how much I was inspired.
So I did.
i. MORNING GLORY
The day, featuring a violet-blue sky
has beckoned.
With white designer umbrella clouds
dotting the washed blue,
and playing peek-a-boo
with the sun's brilliant rays.
The glimmering Pacific weaves its magic
as frothy, white caps bounce
up and down
up and down
as the waves dance into shore.
Overhead, the gulls circle,
crying, crying
"Yee-haw, Yee-haw" -- extras in an old Western.
I pick up my pace.
"Huh, Huh, Huh, Huh."
Deep, panting breaths
in time to my footwork.
Left, right, left, right
"Huh, Huh, Huh, Huh."
I feel alive.
Revived by this healthy air,
by the way my lungs are
expanding and contracting
expanding and contracting.
This is my meditation.
This is my balm.
Over sand, warmed by the sun.
Over millions of sparkling granules
my legs carry me away.
Farther and farther
from the daily bump and grind
I call "a life."
ii. AFTERNOON DELIGHT
Stretched out on the chaise,
sketchbook and pencil in hand,
I stare off into the distance,
a slight frown on my lips.
I lift my hand and begin to draw.
Bold lines this way,
Slashes that way,
Shading at the edges.
I put down my pencil
and look at the page.
What was once blank,
pure linen white,
now plays host to
a drawing of a man,
stretched out on a chaise,
sketchbook and pencil in hand,
a wide smile on his face.
So I did.
i. MORNING GLORY
The day, featuring a violet-blue sky
has beckoned.
With white designer umbrella clouds
dotting the washed blue,
and playing peek-a-boo
with the sun's brilliant rays.
The glimmering Pacific weaves its magic
as frothy, white caps bounce
up and down
up and down
as the waves dance into shore.
Overhead, the gulls circle,
crying, crying
"Yee-haw, Yee-haw" -- extras in an old Western.
I pick up my pace.
"Huh, Huh, Huh, Huh."
Deep, panting breaths
in time to my footwork.
Left, right, left, right
"Huh, Huh, Huh, Huh."
I feel alive.
Revived by this healthy air,
by the way my lungs are
expanding and contracting
expanding and contracting.
This is my meditation.
This is my balm.
Over sand, warmed by the sun.
Over millions of sparkling granules
my legs carry me away.
Farther and farther
from the daily bump and grind
I call "a life."
ii. AFTERNOON DELIGHT
Stretched out on the chaise,
sketchbook and pencil in hand,
I stare off into the distance,
a slight frown on my lips.
I lift my hand and begin to draw.
Bold lines this way,
Slashes that way,
Shading at the edges.
I put down my pencil
and look at the page.
What was once blank,
pure linen white,
now plays host to
a drawing of a man,
stretched out on a chaise,
sketchbook and pencil in hand,
a wide smile on his face.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
What's Green, Very Versatile and Can be Shipped to You?
Just discovered this site: http://www.avocadoofthemonthclub.com/ and thought it was a joke at first. But I checked it out and was somewhat surprised by all its offerings.
Do people really buy into these services? Hmmm...."I need my fix of avocado for February. Can't wait till Fed-Ex delivers my next shipment."
And maybe while you're waiting for that next shipment, you can use up your last avocado in this way:
AVOCADO MILKSHAKE
1 avocado
1/3 quart whole milk
3 tablespoons sugar
2 scoops vanilla ice cream
Blend. Drink.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Something to Kvell About
A week ago, on Shabbos morning, my nearly 9-year-old son gave a d'var Torah on the parsha, after davening...the youngest member of our shul to have ever done so. He'd prepared the d'var Torah for his Hebrew class the day before and was willing to repeat it in front of our congregation.
What a pleasure to see! My daughter, who sat beside me, asked, "Eema, are you crying?" I think my eyes just naturally teared up, but I wasn't overtly crying.
"Yasher Koach" was the common refrain to Noam and "Mazel Tov" is what Ron and I heard. What a pleasure.
Later in the day, at seudat shlishit at shul, it was I who gave a d'var Torah. I did one about two years ago about the Ner Tamid. This time my talk was about the Shechina, the Divine Presence.
I am absolutely not one to talk Torah off the cuff; it took me several days to research and prepare my drasha, and in doing so, I felt as if I'd been transported back to my university days, when I was preparing essays for any one of my Jewish courses.
I've thought about the topic of the Shechina for quite a while...my eyes have been drawn to it in the siddur during the Yizkor service, when it talks about "Al kanfei haShechina --On the wings of the Shechina." The wording and imagery always captures my imagination, and that is what triggered this d'var Torah.
It was well-received by my audience, and I look forward to finding another topic in the future that will stir my curiousity enough to do research and will give me some "food for thought."
One of the shul members approached me later with his favorite part of the d'var Torah: "The Kotzker Rebbe, Rebbe Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, was once asked, "Where is G-d?" And he replied, "Wherever they let him in." And such is the Shechina: the Divine Presence of G-d that dwells among men...in their sanctuaries, in their homes, and in their hearts.
I hope that the Shechina finds its place in your lives...
What a pleasure to see! My daughter, who sat beside me, asked, "Eema, are you crying?" I think my eyes just naturally teared up, but I wasn't overtly crying.
"Yasher Koach" was the common refrain to Noam and "Mazel Tov" is what Ron and I heard. What a pleasure.
Later in the day, at seudat shlishit at shul, it was I who gave a d'var Torah. I did one about two years ago about the Ner Tamid. This time my talk was about the Shechina, the Divine Presence.
I am absolutely not one to talk Torah off the cuff; it took me several days to research and prepare my drasha, and in doing so, I felt as if I'd been transported back to my university days, when I was preparing essays for any one of my Jewish courses.
I've thought about the topic of the Shechina for quite a while...my eyes have been drawn to it in the siddur during the Yizkor service, when it talks about "Al kanfei haShechina --On the wings of the Shechina." The wording and imagery always captures my imagination, and that is what triggered this d'var Torah.
It was well-received by my audience, and I look forward to finding another topic in the future that will stir my curiousity enough to do research and will give me some "food for thought."
One of the shul members approached me later with his favorite part of the d'var Torah: "The Kotzker Rebbe, Rebbe Menachem Mendel of Kotzk, was once asked, "Where is G-d?" And he replied, "Wherever they let him in." And such is the Shechina: the Divine Presence of G-d that dwells among men...in their sanctuaries, in their homes, and in their hearts.
I hope that the Shechina finds its place in your lives...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A Little Error...
...goes a long way.
An ad for the Hampton Inn in Niagara Falls, Ontario, includes this line:
Guests of the Hampton can enjoy complimentary Breakfast Buffet which includes hot items, parking, and HBO movies.
Wow, I've never seen a breakfast buffet that offers HBO movies AND parking.
Now, if they would have only hired me on as their copy editor before posting their information, then...I would not have had a blog post for today. :)
An ad for the Hampton Inn in Niagara Falls, Ontario, includes this line:
Guests of the Hampton can enjoy complimentary Breakfast Buffet which includes hot items, parking, and HBO movies.
Wow, I've never seen a breakfast buffet that offers HBO movies AND parking.
Now, if they would have only hired me on as their copy editor before posting their information, then...I would not have had a blog post for today. :)
Monday, January 19, 2009
Shed a Little Tear
If any of you out there ever find it difficult to cry for whatever reason, if you hold yourself in check, trying to remain strong, if you say to yourself "I haven't had a good cry in a long time," then this show's for you!
EXTREME MAKEOVER : HOME EDITION is an hour of compassion, creativity, community solidarity and stories of the heart. You watch this show, making sure you have a box of tissues close at hand. Your eyes well up, the tears began to roll down your cheeks, and you noisily blow your nose as you are overcome with emotion. And some twenty minutes into the show, along with those on screen, you chant the mantra: "Move that bus!"
You, too, are overwhelmed by the magnificence of what teamwork can accomplish in a few short days. You, too, are curious by what the interior of a new house will disclose. And you, too, are silenced by the wonderful bonuses thrown into the deal.
I guarantee that, unless you are a piece of wood, you will be moved by this show, and your guarded emotions will reveal themselves.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Saturday Night at the Movies
I often take movies out of the library for the family. Quite often they are foreign films, so in that case, it's usually just my husband and I who watch them.
This past Saturday night, my husband and I watched a double bill: I'd taken from the library "Monsieur Ibrahim" , a wonderful French movie from a few years ago, featuring Omar Sharif, and shortly after it was over, we watched "Bernard and Doris" on HBO.
I wouldn't say that either film was "entertaining"; I prefer to call films such as these "thinking men's movies". The plots, at times were slow...but moved thoughtfully to their ends. And at the end, we discussed the merits of the fine acting and the lives these actors portrayed.
I give these fine films 8 stars/10.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
On the Cusp
It is December 31st, 2008. In less than 10 hours, the clock will strike midnight, and it will be 2009!
Hard to believe that we're on the cusp of a new year, nearly nine years into the new millennium.
Where did the years go? Where did the months go? Where did the days go?
Many bloggers review their year by re-sharing some of their significant posts. That helps summarize their personal & professional lives and the world at large for the previous 365 days.
I won't do that this year. Suffice it to say that this past year had its ups and downs.
A year ago, today, my mother in law had brain surgery for an aggressive tumor discovered less than 48 hours earlier in a hospital emergency examining room. Thus the tone was set for the year.
My family became too familiar with hospitals and specialists and medical jargon this past year.
But amidst the dark and difficult days, we celebrated our eldest child's bar mitzvah...a major milestone in any Jewish boy's life and that of his parents.
Who knows what 2009 will hold for us and for the world? How will the small country of Israel fare? Will she gain more enemies worldwide and some unexpected friends along the way? How will Barack Obama prove himself a leader? What changes will he bring to office? Will the national economy have to dip further before it begins to slowly climb back upwards?
Let us hope and pray that 2009 can be a good year for all.
In a few hours, on this side of the world we'll be saying, "Live...from __________...it's 2009!"
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Greatest Love Story Ever Told...
...is apparently a lie.
Publisher Cancels Rosenblat Memoir After TNR Exposes Hoax
Berkley Books, an imprint of Penguin Group, announced tonight that it was canceling Herman Rosenblat's Holocaust memoir, Angel at the Fence: The True Story of a Love That Survived, which was set to be published on February 3.
In a statement, Berkley's director of publicity, Craig Burke, said: "Berkley Books is cancelling publication of Angel at the Fence after receiving new information from Herman Rosenblat's agent, Andrea Hurst. Berkley will demand that the author and the agent return all money that they have received for this work."
Just yesterday, Berkley released a statement defending the author and his memoir. Shortly after Berkley's new statement was released, I spoke with Harris Salomon, who is producing the $25 million film adaptation of Herman's story.
"It’s unfortunate he told a lie," Salomon told me. "The man is tragically flawed, but his story had value." Until this evening, Salomon had been a wholehearted defender of Herman's story. But he said he spoke to Herman and learned that his story is a fake. Salomon said he had no knowledge of Herman's fabrication, and is angry that Herman lied to him, to his agent, Andrea Hurst, and to the publisher. "Obviously, this is a surprise to me. Obviously, I am extremely angry. He let me down professionally and personally. We get used to dealing with people of all stripes in this business. This is the business and the society we live in today, that allows people to lie, but also feeds off people lying and asking for forgiveness."
Salomon said he thinks there is only one way for Herman to bring closure to his story. He asked Herman to go back on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" with his wife, Roma, and tell his true story and explain why he invented his tale. He said Herman has agreed to appear on "Oprah" if her producers will have him. "The Oprah Winfrey Show" could not be reached for comment tonight.
"This is the one thing I want Herman to do," Salomon said. "I told Herman I want him to go back on the 'Oprah Winfrey Show' and apologize to Oprah. Apologize to me, to Andrea Hurst, his agent, to Penguin, the American people, and the memory of his mother and father and all the people who died in the Holocaust."
I find it somewhat sad to have learned this.
Yes, it's disappointing to have someone fabricate such a tale and then learn that it's not true.
But didn't reading or hearing the story have men and women shyly smile and let out huge sighs of wistfulness? Didn't it give countless people a belief that in spite of all the evil that these death camps represented, something good could come of them?
Didn't this internationally reported tale give something nice to people to believe in?
Yes, to falsely lead on print and radio journalists, television audiences, major publishing houses and movie companies and countless individuals is not nice. In fact, it's wrong. But did Herman have a reason for doing so? Did his wife have a reason for going along with her husband and his fairy tale?
Oprah said of Herman & Roma's tale: "...the single greatest love story, in 22 years of doing this show, we've ever told on the air."
Holocaust scholars, Herman's family and friends were disbelieving of the tale for some time, but never did bring their thoughts to the public eye. But now that the truth is out, what will people say when they learn the reason of the deceit?
My compassionate side worries for Herman; will it be too much for him to bear to appear on national TV and retract his story, too much for him to handle the aftermath of his deceit, too difficult to go on with his life once again? How is his medical situation? How is his emotional situation?
Part of me thinks: "Who was he hurting anyway, with this story?"
But apparently, the answer is "COUNTLESS NUMBERS."
Publisher Cancels Rosenblat Memoir After TNR Exposes Hoax
Berkley Books, an imprint of Penguin Group, announced tonight that it was canceling Herman Rosenblat's Holocaust memoir, Angel at the Fence: The True Story of a Love That Survived, which was set to be published on February 3.
In a statement, Berkley's director of publicity, Craig Burke, said: "Berkley Books is cancelling publication of Angel at the Fence after receiving new information from Herman Rosenblat's agent, Andrea Hurst. Berkley will demand that the author and the agent return all money that they have received for this work."
Just yesterday, Berkley released a statement defending the author and his memoir. Shortly after Berkley's new statement was released, I spoke with Harris Salomon, who is producing the $25 million film adaptation of Herman's story.
"It’s unfortunate he told a lie," Salomon told me. "The man is tragically flawed, but his story had value." Until this evening, Salomon had been a wholehearted defender of Herman's story. But he said he spoke to Herman and learned that his story is a fake. Salomon said he had no knowledge of Herman's fabrication, and is angry that Herman lied to him, to his agent, Andrea Hurst, and to the publisher. "Obviously, this is a surprise to me. Obviously, I am extremely angry. He let me down professionally and personally. We get used to dealing with people of all stripes in this business. This is the business and the society we live in today, that allows people to lie, but also feeds off people lying and asking for forgiveness."
Salomon said he thinks there is only one way for Herman to bring closure to his story. He asked Herman to go back on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" with his wife, Roma, and tell his true story and explain why he invented his tale. He said Herman has agreed to appear on "Oprah" if her producers will have him. "The Oprah Winfrey Show" could not be reached for comment tonight.
"This is the one thing I want Herman to do," Salomon said. "I told Herman I want him to go back on the 'Oprah Winfrey Show' and apologize to Oprah. Apologize to me, to Andrea Hurst, his agent, to Penguin, the American people, and the memory of his mother and father and all the people who died in the Holocaust."
I find it somewhat sad to have learned this.
Yes, it's disappointing to have someone fabricate such a tale and then learn that it's not true.
But didn't reading or hearing the story have men and women shyly smile and let out huge sighs of wistfulness? Didn't it give countless people a belief that in spite of all the evil that these death camps represented, something good could come of them?
Didn't this internationally reported tale give something nice to people to believe in?
Yes, to falsely lead on print and radio journalists, television audiences, major publishing houses and movie companies and countless individuals is not nice. In fact, it's wrong. But did Herman have a reason for doing so? Did his wife have a reason for going along with her husband and his fairy tale?
Oprah said of Herman & Roma's tale: "...the single greatest love story, in 22 years of doing this show, we've ever told on the air."
Holocaust scholars, Herman's family and friends were disbelieving of the tale for some time, but never did bring their thoughts to the public eye. But now that the truth is out, what will people say when they learn the reason of the deceit?
My compassionate side worries for Herman; will it be too much for him to bear to appear on national TV and retract his story, too much for him to handle the aftermath of his deceit, too difficult to go on with his life once again? How is his medical situation? How is his emotional situation?
Part of me thinks: "Who was he hurting anyway, with this story?"
But apparently, the answer is "COUNTLESS NUMBERS."
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Happy Chanukah
Very shortly, my husband, children and I will go to my parents' house to light the first Chanukah candle with them. I hope we can do it together for many more years to come.
Wishing you all a very happy and BRIGHT Chanukah.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Now Showing...
Swindlers & Victims: The Bernie Madoff Story
Just when you thought the economy couldn't get any worse...along comes Bernie! Always whistling a happy tune: "Money, Money, Money" by Abba.
But apparently, he'll be changing that tune to "Jailhouse Rock" soon enough.
Okay, everybody all together, on the count of three: ONE...TWO...THREE...NOW SPIT!
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Flattered...but Flustered...
...because Robert Avrech of Seraphic Secret tagged me to do the meme for "20 Favorite Actresses."
Robert, a Hollywood screenwriter/producer, expects me to even know 20 actresses? He can recite biographies and film histories of countless actors and actresses, and I have to think hard to simply come up with names.
Here goes nothing:
1. Sally Field
2. Ginger Rogers
3. Diane Keaton
4. Meryl Streep
5. Lucille Ball
6. Doris Day
7. Shirley Temple
8. Judy Garland
9. Julie Andrews
10. Judi Dench
11. Marilyn Monroe
12. Shelley Winters
13. Carole Kane
14. Molly Picon
15. Barbra Streisand
16. Geena Davis
17. Goldie Hawn
18. Meg Ryan
19. Marjorie Main (of Ma & Pa Kettle fame)
20. Pearl Saban (thought I'd throw that in as a wishful thinking favorite actress!)
Robert, a Hollywood screenwriter/producer, expects me to even know 20 actresses? He can recite biographies and film histories of countless actors and actresses, and I have to think hard to simply come up with names.
Here goes nothing:
1. Sally Field
2. Ginger Rogers
3. Diane Keaton
4. Meryl Streep
5. Lucille Ball
6. Doris Day
7. Shirley Temple
8. Judy Garland
9. Julie Andrews
10. Judi Dench
11. Marilyn Monroe
12. Shelley Winters
13. Carole Kane
14. Molly Picon
15. Barbra Streisand
16. Geena Davis
17. Goldie Hawn
18. Meg Ryan
19. Marjorie Main (of Ma & Pa Kettle fame)
20. Pearl Saban (thought I'd throw that in as a wishful thinking favorite actress!)
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Road Ends Here
I went to a funeral this morning for a girlfriend's dad. He's suffered from Alzheimer's for nearly a decade and as a result was put in a nursing home some eight years ago. Two weeks ago he became sick and was put in hospital, which is where he passed away on Shabbos...his daughter and wife at his side.
I went to the funeral chapel and to the cemetery, as well. With car blinkers flashing and with police escort at major traffic intersections, we made our way in a procession to the cemetery.
My blood began to roil. Why? Because I could see that there are very chutpahdik drivers out there, who cut in to these funeral processions. It's not as if one ought not to know that this is a procession; it's easily recognized with the many cars, their blinkers and the funeral chapel's placard sticking out of the front hood of each car.
But on at least two occasions en route, someone from the center lane cut into my outer lane, driving in front of me. The second "interference" (for lack of a better word) actually used this tactic for his gain. With the policeman moving us speedily through red lights, and a couple of back streets, this "schnorrer" (for lack of a better word) took advantage of his position in our procession. The minute we hit the main street again, he jumped into the center lane and was off on his merry way.
I immediately called my husband to complain about the chutzpah of some people; he said there ought to be a name for such a person. No doubt there is, but it wouldn't be polite of me to put it in print.
So I challenge any and all of you to come up with a name for "a person who cuts into a funeral motorcade but doesn't belong there." (Maybe together we can come up with some new term that can be entered into that famous Washington Post -- I believe it is -- word contest for new expressions.)
***************************
And on my way out of the cemetery, as I tried to merge into the main intersection, I saw a sign across the street on an empty lot in this residential area. The sign said something like:
FUTURE SITE OF B'NAI BRITH ALZHEIMER'S HOME.
How cruel, I thought, to be placing such a Jewish institution opposite a Jewish cemetery!
I went to the funeral chapel and to the cemetery, as well. With car blinkers flashing and with police escort at major traffic intersections, we made our way in a procession to the cemetery.
My blood began to roil. Why? Because I could see that there are very chutpahdik drivers out there, who cut in to these funeral processions. It's not as if one ought not to know that this is a procession; it's easily recognized with the many cars, their blinkers and the funeral chapel's placard sticking out of the front hood of each car.
But on at least two occasions en route, someone from the center lane cut into my outer lane, driving in front of me. The second "interference" (for lack of a better word) actually used this tactic for his gain. With the policeman moving us speedily through red lights, and a couple of back streets, this "schnorrer" (for lack of a better word) took advantage of his position in our procession. The minute we hit the main street again, he jumped into the center lane and was off on his merry way.
I immediately called my husband to complain about the chutzpah of some people; he said there ought to be a name for such a person. No doubt there is, but it wouldn't be polite of me to put it in print.
So I challenge any and all of you to come up with a name for "a person who cuts into a funeral motorcade but doesn't belong there." (Maybe together we can come up with some new term that can be entered into that famous Washington Post -- I believe it is -- word contest for new expressions.)
***************************
And on my way out of the cemetery, as I tried to merge into the main intersection, I saw a sign across the street on an empty lot in this residential area. The sign said something like:
FUTURE SITE OF B'NAI BRITH ALZHEIMER'S HOME.
How cruel, I thought, to be placing such a Jewish institution opposite a Jewish cemetery!
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Cinq/Five/Cinco/Chamesh
I saw the following meme on Robert Avrech's blog, and decided to complete it on my own blog. Here goes...five:
5 things I was doing 10 years ago:
1) I was copy editing romance novels
2) I was celebrating 5 years of married life
3) I was mothering two toddlers
4) I was reading bedtime stories to my kids
5) I was stepping on many pieces of Lego
5 things on my to-do list today:
1) Take the first shift of kids to school
2) Take the second shift of one kid to school
3) Make my 11:00 a.m. appointment at a placement agency
4) Visit my parents
5) Pick up all 3 kids from school
5 snacks I love:
1) shelled sunflower seeds
2) ripple potato chips
3) a piece of hard cheese
4) clementines
5) any kind of chocolate bar that has nuts inside
5 things I'd do if I were a millionaire:
1) start a family foundation and give donations to countless worthwhile medical, educational and social causes
2) share my wealth with our siblings and their families
3) take our children, our siblings and their children on a really nice family vacation
4) invest for our children's future
5) make my parents' lives as comfortable as possible, with the right medical care and home care
5 places I have lived:
1) Toronto --my childhood home
2) Toronto -- our apartment when we married
3) Toronto -- our first home after the apartment
4) Toronto -- our current home
5) Israel
5 jobs I have had:
1) Copy editor
2) Proofreader
3) Administrative assistant in a Jewish day school
4) Assistant in the book return dept. of a university library
5) Assistant in a Jewish community information service
5 things I was doing 10 years ago:
1) I was copy editing romance novels
2) I was celebrating 5 years of married life
3) I was mothering two toddlers
4) I was reading bedtime stories to my kids
5) I was stepping on many pieces of Lego
5 things on my to-do list today:
1) Take the first shift of kids to school
2) Take the second shift of one kid to school
3) Make my 11:00 a.m. appointment at a placement agency
4) Visit my parents
5) Pick up all 3 kids from school
5 snacks I love:
1) shelled sunflower seeds
2) ripple potato chips
3) a piece of hard cheese
4) clementines
5) any kind of chocolate bar that has nuts inside
5 things I'd do if I were a millionaire:
1) start a family foundation and give donations to countless worthwhile medical, educational and social causes
2) share my wealth with our siblings and their families
3) take our children, our siblings and their children on a really nice family vacation
4) invest for our children's future
5) make my parents' lives as comfortable as possible, with the right medical care and home care
5 places I have lived:
1) Toronto --my childhood home
2) Toronto -- our apartment when we married
3) Toronto -- our first home after the apartment
4) Toronto -- our current home
5) Israel
5 jobs I have had:
1) Copy editor
2) Proofreader
3) Administrative assistant in a Jewish day school
4) Assistant in the book return dept. of a university library
5) Assistant in a Jewish community information service
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Mission of Love
Please take the time to watch this video compilation about the victims of the Mumbai Chabad House.
It is most moving.
It is most moving.
Interpretation
Was in a mall today and saw a sign advertising a shop where they sell smoking accoutrements -- tobacco, rolling papers, cigars, cigarettes, cigarillos, etc. The shop is called HOLY SMOKES.
What a great name, I thought.
But I also thought that such a store, with such a name, should be serviced by a bunch of nuns and priests.
Could you just imagine the scene? Nice Jewish girl goes in, looks around, sees a nun playing with the rosary around her neck.
"Can I help you?" the nun asks.
"No, just looking. I wanted to see what the store offers."
"Hmm. Well, smoking is truly bad for your health, but we raise funds through our sales to help support the children in our orphanage. Our bodies are truly our sanctuaries, and we must honor them for as long as we can...but if you've got to smoke, well then just think how you're helping our children."
And with that, she hands me a button that says, "HOLY SMOKES....Save the Children."
(I don't mean to insult anyone with my absurd imagination. Sorry if I might've.)
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Conehead Wannabes
On Motzei Shabbos we rented movies and one of them was THE CONEHEADS, based on the Saturday Night Live skits. We had "family night" and together with drinks and bowls of popcorn, we gathered in the family room to watch...and laugh...and laugh...and laugh.
Our family's new "buzz phrase" is "We come from France" as said by Jane Curtin and Dan Akroyd. We use the same inflection as their characters do, and my kids have it down to an art already.
I learned just how much of an impact the movie made on our kids when I went grocery shopping this evening with Adina. While we were in the produce section, she suddenly let out a shriek a la Jane Curtin's character.
Why? you ask.
Adina had spotted a display of eggplants.
She had the voice/scream perfect, and I burst out laughing alongside her. And as I relayed the story to my kids upon coming home, I couldn't help but burst out laughing again.
Live ... from Toronto ... it's the CONEHEAD WANNABES!
Monday, December 01, 2008
Check Out This Blog
For some reason I can't add new blog names to my sidebar, so in the meantime, this blog is worthy of a post instead, pointing you in the right direction. (in my case, westbound on Highway 401!)
I discovered this blogger a couple of weeks ago, and Carmi's posts have not disappointed me yet. His visual creativity and his creativity with language are entertaining.
Do check out http://writteninc.blogspot.com/ and tell him pearliesofwisdom sent you.
I discovered this blogger a couple of weeks ago, and Carmi's posts have not disappointed me yet. His visual creativity and his creativity with language are entertaining.
Do check out http://writteninc.blogspot.com/ and tell him pearliesofwisdom sent you.
My Favorite Word...
...is PNEU, the French word for "tire".
The "P" is pronounced, and so the word almost gets blurted out. I think it just sound so funny.
I was teaching my youngest son the word, and when he repeated it, I told him it sounds like a sneeze, and so I said "Bless you!"
Now, as I researched the word, I learned:
Indo-European Roots
ENTRY:
pneu-
DEFINITION:
To breathe. Imitative root. 1. sneeze, from Old English fnosan, to sneeze, from Germanic *fneu-s-. 2. snore, snort, from Old English fnora, sneezing, from Germanic *fnu-s-. 3. apnea, dipnoan, dyspnea, eupnea, hyperpnea, hypopnea, polypnea, tachypnea, from Greek pnein, to breathe, with o-grade nouns pnoi, -pnoia, breathing, and pno, breath. 4. Suffixed form *pneu-m. pneuma, pneumatic, pneumato-, pneumo-, from Greek pneuma, breath, wind, spirit. 5. Germanic variant root *fnes-. sneer, from Old English fnran, to snort, gnash one's teeth. (Pokorny pneu- 838.)
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Yad Vashem Page for My Paternal Grandmother
Pages of Testimony
Last Name
ADLER
First Name
CHAJA
First Name
KHAIA
Father's First Name
YAAKOV
Father's First Name
LEIB
Mother's First Name
HANI
Mother's First Name
HENI
Sex
Female
Place of Birth
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Citizenship
POLAND
Marital Status
MARRIED
Spouse's First Name
MEIR
Permanent residence
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Profession
HOUSEWIFE
Place during the war
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Place of Death
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Date of Death
1942
Type of material
Page of Testimony
Submitter's Last Name
STRUZER
Submitter's First Name
GITEL
Submitter's First Name*
GIZELA
Relationship to victim
NEIGHBOUR
Registration date
01/01/1956
When my father was in Israel for the first time some years ago, he and my mother went to visit Yad Vashem. Upon entering his mother's name, he came across this listing, to his utmost surprise. A former neighbor had thought to list my grandmother in the Yad Vashem records and my father was overwhelmed and grateful. Unfortunately, when he tried to contact that neighbor who'd given my grandmother's name, he learned from her daugher that she'd already passed away. He had wanted to thank her....for remembering and for giving my grandmother some kind of final resting place.
Last Name
ADLER
First Name
CHAJA
First Name
KHAIA
Father's First Name
YAAKOV
Father's First Name
LEIB
Mother's First Name
HANI
Mother's First Name
HENI
Sex
Female
Place of Birth
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Citizenship
POLAND
Marital Status
MARRIED
Spouse's First Name
MEIR
Permanent residence
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Profession
HOUSEWIFE
Place during the war
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Place of Death
TARNOGROD,BILGORAJ,LUBLIN,POLAND
Date of Death
1942
Type of material
Page of Testimony
Submitter's Last Name
STRUZER
Submitter's First Name
GITEL
Submitter's First Name*
GIZELA
Relationship to victim
NEIGHBOUR
Registration date
01/01/1956
When my father was in Israel for the first time some years ago, he and my mother went to visit Yad Vashem. Upon entering his mother's name, he came across this listing, to his utmost surprise. A former neighbor had thought to list my grandmother in the Yad Vashem records and my father was overwhelmed and grateful. Unfortunately, when he tried to contact that neighbor who'd given my grandmother's name, he learned from her daugher that she'd already passed away. He had wanted to thank her....for remembering and for giving my grandmother some kind of final resting place.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
THE WALLS OF THE GHETTO
The walls of the ghetto encircled you.
The walls of the ghetto enclosed you.
The walls of the ghetto framed you.
Framed your life and the lives of your loved ones.
You, with your tattered yellow star marking you
Jew. Schweinhund. Part of a damned nation.
It is fear that fed you when the cupboards were bare.
It is bravery that sustained you when that fear was spent.
You fought to the bitter end --
The rat-tat-tat of machine gun artillery
echoing off the barren walls of that wasteland.
The raining of bombs all around you.
The smell of death hovering... Always hovering.
With hands up in the air, with this gesture of surrender,
of final supplication
You the boy, already a man, left your legacy.
And we remember. We always remember...
Monday, November 10, 2008
Something to Ponder
Has it ever occurred to any of you how many times you've gone to weddings, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, engagement parties, retirement parties, staff parties, etc, have posed for pics or have had candid pics taken of you when you weren't aware of a photographer around...or have sat at a table with people at any of these types of affairs and have had a microphone shoved in your hand and a video camera with the spotlight on you. You're supposed to give a congratulatory message to the new happy couple or to the shining boy of thirteen or the sparkling girl of twelve.
Have you ever thought about all these pics and footage taken of you....that you've never ever seen?
No doubt you've already reached your total 15 minutes of fame in these many simcha videos...but never actually got to see them.
No doubt your face fills up pages in photo albums on coffee tables and on bookshelves...but you never actually got to see them.
I think the next time I go to a simcha and the videographer goes around to each person at the table to say a few words, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Sorry, I'm on strike."
And when asked to pose for a group shot, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Can't do it. I need to sign a model release...do you have one handy?" (of course they won't)
And when it's the end of the evening, and time to say goodbye and mazel tov to the hosts, and time to hand over the envelope with the "gift" (check), I'll put up my hand instead and say really loudly,"I can't give this to you unless you promise to invite me over to see the pics/video once they're ready..."
Have you ever thought about all these pics and footage taken of you....that you've never ever seen?
No doubt you've already reached your total 15 minutes of fame in these many simcha videos...but never actually got to see them.
No doubt your face fills up pages in photo albums on coffee tables and on bookshelves...but you never actually got to see them.
I think the next time I go to a simcha and the videographer goes around to each person at the table to say a few words, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Sorry, I'm on strike."
And when asked to pose for a group shot, I'll put up my hand and say really loudly, "Can't do it. I need to sign a model release...do you have one handy?" (of course they won't)
And when it's the end of the evening, and time to say goodbye and mazel tov to the hosts, and time to hand over the envelope with the "gift" (check), I'll put up my hand instead and say really loudly,"I can't give this to you unless you promise to invite me over to see the pics/video once they're ready..."
Friday, November 07, 2008
Prayer Box (as opposed to Prayer Book)
'The JewBerry': Praying every day on the PDA
06/11/2008
ASSOCIATED PRESS NEW YORK
Thousands of observant Jews around the world are praying three times a day - using their PDA.
A software program for BlackBerries combines Hebrew prayers and technology, the brainchild of two entrepreneurs who attended New York's Yeshiva University. They dubbed it "the JewBerry" - a $30 program that provides texts of daily prayers instead of the traditional, printed book. The program is not linked to Research in Motion Ltd., maker of the BlackBerry.
"Throughout the day, Jews gather in office-building stairwells and conference rooms to pray, and while sometimes you might not remember your prayer book, no one goes anywhere without their BlackBerry," says co-creator Jonathan Bennett of Cedarhurst, Long Island. Among JewBerry users is the president of Yeshiva University, Richard Joel. "I love it, because now I can not only look how the market is doing, but I can also say my evening prayers," he says, adding that "at the heart of what Yeshiva is about is the notion that it's not our technology that informs civilization; it's our values."
http://www.jewberry.com
06/11/2008
ASSOCIATED PRESS NEW YORK
Thousands of observant Jews around the world are praying three times a day - using their PDA.
A software program for BlackBerries combines Hebrew prayers and technology, the brainchild of two entrepreneurs who attended New York's Yeshiva University. They dubbed it "the JewBerry" - a $30 program that provides texts of daily prayers instead of the traditional, printed book. The program is not linked to Research in Motion Ltd., maker of the BlackBerry.
"Throughout the day, Jews gather in office-building stairwells and conference rooms to pray, and while sometimes you might not remember your prayer book, no one goes anywhere without their BlackBerry," says co-creator Jonathan Bennett of Cedarhurst, Long Island. Among JewBerry users is the president of Yeshiva University, Richard Joel. "I love it, because now I can not only look how the market is doing, but I can also say my evening prayers," he says, adding that "at the heart of what Yeshiva is about is the notion that it's not our technology that informs civilization; it's our values."
http://www.jewberry.com
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Lost & Found
I'm a mom who likes to stay on top of things if I can, even to the point of knowing what my kids wear to school. But it is obvious that not all parents are like me.
On Friday, when I came to pick up the kids, my youngest ran to the car without his jacket; he'd forgotten it in the schoolyard and went to retrieve it...but it wasn't there where he'd left it with his knapsack and lunchbox. He checked the lost and found, as well as his classroom, but it wasn't there.
There was, however, a very similar jacket, just a shade darker, lying there on the cold concrete near to where my son had left his jacket. Believing that there had been a switchoff done in error by a kid, I took that jacket, assuming and hoping that my son's jacket would appear in the school's lost and found on Monday and I'd leave this jacket in its place.
I got home and looked closer at the jacket; on first glance, it really looked the same as my son's, but a shade darker, a different store label affixed to it and a couple sizes smaller than my son's. And there was no name.
My son's jacket does have his name and phone number, so it's easily identifiable.
If in fact, this was a case of mistaken jacket identity, I couldn't understand that a parent wouldn't notice the difference in jackets or spot our family name in our jacket.
So throughout the weekend, I hoped I was correct and that Noam's jacket would show up in the lost and found on Monday or Tuesday.
It didn't...but I did the right thing and left the other jacket in the lost and found.
But you wouldn't believe the items that appear in those big baskets, just waiting to be claimed by their rightful owners.
There are countless school uniform jackets, and designer jackets, hats and gloves, and lunchboxes.
Please tell me how a child, however old or young, can lose a lunchbox and not realize it or not have a parent realize it or think, "Perhaps my son/daughter left it at school. I'd better check the lost and found." Does a child not think that they need a lunchbox for the next day? And if the lunchbox is labeled, as I saw on several of them, it is so much easier to claim.
Okay, so the school jackets all look the same, but many are labeled. Don't you think to even give a quick peek in the lost and found?
I recall losing a winter hat when I was in kindergarten. I looked in the school's lost and found many times without success. When I was in grade one, I checked it again, and what do you think I found? Yes, my hat. Better late than never...!
There are many wealthy families at the kids' school; perhaps they don't notice when an item goes missing or perhaps they don't care. And my guess is that many of the kids don't care enough either if they lose something 'cause they know it'll get replaced.
Each term, I believe, before Chanukah, Pesach and the end of school, the administration takes a day and displays all the lost and found articles for parents/kids to come and look at and claim whatever is theirs. All the items that go unclaimed are donated to charity.
Perhaps it's somewhat silly to think that a kid didn't bring a lunch to school for three months 'cause her lunchbox went missing; perhaps a child's fingers were numb over the month of February because his gloves went missing when the weather was cold. But it's sillier to think that people don't even consider checking the lost and found until it's too late.
I'm still hoping my son's jacket will turn up at school. In the meantime I told him to keep an eye on the kids in the schoolyard and see if he spots anyone wearing what looks like his jacket. If he spots it, he is not to accuse anyone, "That's MY jacket," but to say rationally that he thinks it's his jacket and let him check it for his name.
I'm also hoping that by the first "clean sweep of the year" of the lost and found, most of the items will have already been rightfully claimed by students, nannies, and parents.
On Friday, when I came to pick up the kids, my youngest ran to the car without his jacket; he'd forgotten it in the schoolyard and went to retrieve it...but it wasn't there where he'd left it with his knapsack and lunchbox. He checked the lost and found, as well as his classroom, but it wasn't there.
There was, however, a very similar jacket, just a shade darker, lying there on the cold concrete near to where my son had left his jacket. Believing that there had been a switchoff done in error by a kid, I took that jacket, assuming and hoping that my son's jacket would appear in the school's lost and found on Monday and I'd leave this jacket in its place.
I got home and looked closer at the jacket; on first glance, it really looked the same as my son's, but a shade darker, a different store label affixed to it and a couple sizes smaller than my son's. And there was no name.
My son's jacket does have his name and phone number, so it's easily identifiable.
If in fact, this was a case of mistaken jacket identity, I couldn't understand that a parent wouldn't notice the difference in jackets or spot our family name in our jacket.
So throughout the weekend, I hoped I was correct and that Noam's jacket would show up in the lost and found on Monday or Tuesday.
It didn't...but I did the right thing and left the other jacket in the lost and found.
But you wouldn't believe the items that appear in those big baskets, just waiting to be claimed by their rightful owners.
There are countless school uniform jackets, and designer jackets, hats and gloves, and lunchboxes.
Please tell me how a child, however old or young, can lose a lunchbox and not realize it or not have a parent realize it or think, "Perhaps my son/daughter left it at school. I'd better check the lost and found." Does a child not think that they need a lunchbox for the next day? And if the lunchbox is labeled, as I saw on several of them, it is so much easier to claim.
Okay, so the school jackets all look the same, but many are labeled. Don't you think to even give a quick peek in the lost and found?
I recall losing a winter hat when I was in kindergarten. I looked in the school's lost and found many times without success. When I was in grade one, I checked it again, and what do you think I found? Yes, my hat. Better late than never...!
There are many wealthy families at the kids' school; perhaps they don't notice when an item goes missing or perhaps they don't care. And my guess is that many of the kids don't care enough either if they lose something 'cause they know it'll get replaced.
Each term, I believe, before Chanukah, Pesach and the end of school, the administration takes a day and displays all the lost and found articles for parents/kids to come and look at and claim whatever is theirs. All the items that go unclaimed are donated to charity.
Perhaps it's somewhat silly to think that a kid didn't bring a lunch to school for three months 'cause her lunchbox went missing; perhaps a child's fingers were numb over the month of February because his gloves went missing when the weather was cold. But it's sillier to think that people don't even consider checking the lost and found until it's too late.
I'm still hoping my son's jacket will turn up at school. In the meantime I told him to keep an eye on the kids in the schoolyard and see if he spots anyone wearing what looks like his jacket. If he spots it, he is not to accuse anyone, "That's MY jacket," but to say rationally that he thinks it's his jacket and let him check it for his name.
I'm also hoping that by the first "clean sweep of the year" of the lost and found, most of the items will have already been rightfully claimed by students, nannies, and parents.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Missing Max
I've mentioned our shih-poo countless times since we got him over 2 1/2 years ago.
Max is a beautiful, smart and most lovable animal, yet he can also be annoying...at least to me. You see, Max thinks I'm his mom and doesn't want to let me out of his sight much of the time. If I'm at the computer, Max might lay on the floor beside me. Even if he's asleep, the minute I get up to go downstairs, Max is up and right there alongside me.
If I'm in the bathroom with the door closed, the dog doesn't respect my privacy and comes in unannounced. And if he doesn't come in, he's waiting right there outside the bathroom for when I emerge.
The kids know Max primarily loves me. My husband knows Max primarily loves me. I know Max primarily loves me, but I don't want to be the only one he shares his love with.
I'll tell you one thing, though. Whenever I come home from somewhere and open the door, Max is sitting right there, excited to greet me, excited to see his mom. The kids could be somewhere in the house within earshot of the front door and MAYBE they'll call out, "Hi, Mom...Hi Eema," if I'm lucky. But Max is there all the time to say hello.
But today he's not here. I dropped him off at the groomer this a.m. and will pick him up later. And the truth is that since I've come home, I've felt a bit lost without my canine's presence in the house. It's a gorgeous, mild day in Toronto, and I came home from grocery shopping, thinking "I should take Max for a walk" but then remembering he's not home today. And when he wasn't at the door to greet me, I felt a bit hollow and a little lost in my own home.
Funny how we attach ourselves to pets and how they attach themselves to us. Max must feel just as I do today when I leave the house in the a.m. and not return for hours sometimes, or when he sees us go out as a family and wants to be included, but we don't take him along.
I'm looking forward to seeing him in an hour or so, and I think I'll whisper in his ear that I missed him today, and then I'll compliment him on his clean, shorn appearance. I think he'll like that...and then he'll no doubt follow me closely, hoping for more compliments to come his way!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
A La Jerry Seinfeld
I used to write comedy bits...just in case I'd ever be brave enough to get up on stage on amateur night at a Toronto comedy club; after all, Jim Carrey, Howie Mandel and Mike Meyers all started in downtown Toronto.
So last night, I thought of this bit that I could just imagine Jerry Seinfeld using in one of his closing/opening monologues of his former TV show. I wanted to shower without getting my hair wet and pulled out a shower cap from the bathroom drawer. No doubt the shower cap was from one of my many -- NOT! -- vacations, so it was a standard issue cap found in hotel bathrooms.
I put it on my head and tried to tuck my hair in; when I got it in on one side, the hair on the other side popped out. When I tried to tuck in the hair at the nape of my neck, the hair on the front of my head popped out of the cap.
By no measure is this shower cap designed for adults with typical-sized heads; it is built for mini people with mini heads.
And as I stood there and struggled with this tiny bit of elasticized plastic, I grinned...'cause I could just picture Jerry Seinfeld talking about this bit of "nothing".
So last night, I thought of this bit that I could just imagine Jerry Seinfeld using in one of his closing/opening monologues of his former TV show. I wanted to shower without getting my hair wet and pulled out a shower cap from the bathroom drawer. No doubt the shower cap was from one of my many -- NOT! -- vacations, so it was a standard issue cap found in hotel bathrooms.
I put it on my head and tried to tuck my hair in; when I got it in on one side, the hair on the other side popped out. When I tried to tuck in the hair at the nape of my neck, the hair on the front of my head popped out of the cap.
By no measure is this shower cap designed for adults with typical-sized heads; it is built for mini people with mini heads.
And as I stood there and struggled with this tiny bit of elasticized plastic, I grinned...'cause I could just picture Jerry Seinfeld talking about this bit of "nothing".
Friday, October 24, 2008
Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" in Yiddish
Click on this link for the Yiddish version of "Rehab".
Good Shabbos...and don't drink too much!
http://www.revver.com/video/857600/amy-winehouses-rehab-in-yiddish/
Good Shabbos...and don't drink too much!
http://www.revver.com/video/857600/amy-winehouses-rehab-in-yiddish/
Monday, October 13, 2008
And the Moral of the Story Is....
...CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR CHICKENS!!
or even better: The moral of the story is "A bird in the hand is worth...$10,000 in fines!"
Monsey Kaparos Organizer Face $10,000 in Fines
October 11, 2008
The Journal News reports: Organizers of a religious ceremony involving chickens face up to $10,000 in fines for failing to properly clean up after the ritual, the Rockland County Health Department said today.
The group running the kapparot ceremony was cited for two violations of the Rockland sanitary code each of the five days that thousands of chickens were kept on the grounds of the former Monsey Jewish Center, said Thomas Micelli, director of environmental health for the Health Department.
Inspectors found there was a large amount of offensive material - including chicken feces, feathers and blood - on the site each of the five days, resulting in five the violations, Micelli said. Five additional violations were issued to the group for creating a public health nuisance.
The county got a court order Wednesday - the last day the ritual was performed - ordering the organizer and the property owner to stop the ceremony.
Chickens were still on the property yesterday, but had been removed by early this afternoon.
or even better: The moral of the story is "A bird in the hand is worth...$10,000 in fines!"
Monsey Kaparos Organizer Face $10,000 in Fines
October 11, 2008
The Journal News reports: Organizers of a religious ceremony involving chickens face up to $10,000 in fines for failing to properly clean up after the ritual, the Rockland County Health Department said today.
The group running the kapparot ceremony was cited for two violations of the Rockland sanitary code each of the five days that thousands of chickens were kept on the grounds of the former Monsey Jewish Center, said Thomas Micelli, director of environmental health for the Health Department.
Inspectors found there was a large amount of offensive material - including chicken feces, feathers and blood - on the site each of the five days, resulting in five the violations, Micelli said. Five additional violations were issued to the group for creating a public health nuisance.
The county got a court order Wednesday - the last day the ritual was performed - ordering the organizer and the property owner to stop the ceremony.
Chickens were still on the property yesterday, but had been removed by early this afternoon.
Monday, October 06, 2008
My Girls
I'm sending a shout-out to Terry & Betty...my girls.
These women have been in my life for decades -- Terry, since I was about five, when we met and blew soap bubbles together; Betty, since I was about 17, and switched to public high school to finish off there.
Both these women are my gal pals, my ladies, my "chiquitas", my email friends. No, we don't get to see each other tons, nor do we even talk on the phone tons, but we reach out and touch via the computer keyboard and messages several times a week...back and forth, back and forth.
With each of them having their own "peckelas" to deal with in life, and doing so with head held high, smiles and laughter, and a strong sense of self, these women are females to emulate, females to admire, females to just hang out with and shmooze with.
Thanks, both of you, for being my friend, for checking up on me when I don't surface too often, for making me laugh out loud in your own ways and for just being you. I wish you both a g'mar chatimah tovah and a very blessed New Year.
Ciao, bellas!
These women have been in my life for decades -- Terry, since I was about five, when we met and blew soap bubbles together; Betty, since I was about 17, and switched to public high school to finish off there.
Both these women are my gal pals, my ladies, my "chiquitas", my email friends. No, we don't get to see each other tons, nor do we even talk on the phone tons, but we reach out and touch via the computer keyboard and messages several times a week...back and forth, back and forth.
With each of them having their own "peckelas" to deal with in life, and doing so with head held high, smiles and laughter, and a strong sense of self, these women are females to emulate, females to admire, females to just hang out with and shmooze with.
Thanks, both of you, for being my friend, for checking up on me when I don't surface too often, for making me laugh out loud in your own ways and for just being you. I wish you both a g'mar chatimah tovah and a very blessed New Year.
Ciao, bellas!
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Lay It To Rest aka A Shanda
I was recently on a Jewish funeral chapel website, getting information about someone who'd passed away. I spotted a name I thought I recognized and decided to read the announcement and the guestbook entries affiliated with that person. Among the entries I found these: (note: I have removed all references to names, but that does not erase the actual impact of such words)
Entry : The news of the passing of my father XXXXXX just reached me yesterday Oct 1/08. XXX XXXXX was the father of XXXXXXXXand XXXXXXXX, and the Grandfather of XXX, XXXX, XXXX, XXXXand XXXX. The relationship between XXXX and his two children had been strained for past 39 years, we were kids when he married his second wife and over time he essentially failed to understand what being a father is. XXX was easily manoeuvred to disregard his kids, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces and consequently was always finding ways to not have a relationship with us all. Nevertheless, it is shameful his kids and family were not notified of his passing, but I guess no one would expect any less. Approximately 6 months ago I heard XXXX was not well so I went to his home and asked security to buzz his suite. The women that answered told security she didn’t know who I was and not to allow me in????? Again, more disregard for his kids and for him as well. So, as I think about what our father gave us I will end by saying as adults my sister and I have learned how be stronger people better parents, better uncle and a better aunt. We commit to our family to never let anything or anyone get in the way of our relationship with our kids, our nephews and nieces. With all his shortcomings he is still our father and we always loved him.
Entry: In my time of grief and sorrow I am so revolted to read XXX's son's comments about his father and his one last attemp to defame his good name that I feel I must respond. XXX needed his kids when he was alive & fighting for his life with his terrible illness and not when he was dead. XXX always loved his kids and was so deeply hurt when he hefadn't heard from his son XXX for about 5 years. He contacted his daughter XXX when he became ill about 1-1/2 years ago and met with her. She showed no regard and was completely indifferent to his illness. When he asked to see his grandchildren she said "we'll see". He never heard from her again. Anyone who knew XXXX knows what a kind and loving person he was. Although it was erev Rosh Hashanah and people we busy preparing for the holiday, on such short notice they left everything to attend his funeral. The rabbi even remarked about the number of people who put themselves out and were there. This is the best respect Joe could have received. For a number of year XXXXand XXXX have shown no regard for their father and had no contact. They have always had a deep restment of me although for 25 years I tried to establish some kind of relationship for XXX's sake. I then just gave up. They should be ashamed of themselves for the hurt and suffering they caused their father and now I see they're trying to shift the blame This is something they'll have to live with for the rest of their lives. Everyone knows how I tried everything for XXX to extend his life and never left his side. I will always love and I miss him terribly. He was my rock. He always had a smile on his face and was very happy in our marriage. Even through his illness, he was not depressed. I saw to that. He was a wonderul loving husband.
Entry: We are very sorry to hear about uncle XXX. We wish we would have been notified about his passing, as the XXX family would have been in full attendance at the funeral. please accept our condolences.
Entry: This is disgraceful
Entry: Now this is one nice family!
Entry: Sorry about your loss; this page is for people to convey their condolences, not to air dirty laundry. let the man r.i.p.
Entry: My heartfelt condolences to the children and other family members who were not informed of their own father and uncles funeral. This is disgraceful!!! As a woman I would never allow any new husband to come in between my children and I. Unfortunately too many MEN allow the "new wife" to come between a loving family. Let him R.I.P. I'm sure there are 3 sides to this story.
Entry: I'm sure his kids would have left what they were doing on short notice if you would have told them their father died. You should be ashamed of yourself for airing dirty laundry on a public site.
Entry: This a disgrace to the deceased, your differences should be settled in a cage.
To say I was shocked by this public display is an understatement; apparently so were numerous others among the several memorial book entries.
I don't know this family; at this point I wouldn't even want to know this family.
But I can probably see how it started, why the son wrote what he did. He probably heard about his father's death and funeral and figured people would have been asking at the funeral why the man's own son and daughter didn't show up. He felt the need to let people know; this memorial book was the outlet for his anger and disappointment and to some extent, grief.
It is truly a shame how family units can disintegrate, how parents and/or children can be cast aside, can mean nothing anymore in a grand scheme of things.
May the man rest in peace, may his family know no more sorrow, and may they all discuss their grievances in the next world when they meet one another again, with Hashem as their judge.
Having read these entries, a saying from my school days came to mind: "Ezeh booshah v'cherpah." (Hebrew for "what an embarrassment and a disgrace")
Entry : The news of the passing of my father XXXXXX just reached me yesterday Oct 1/08. XXX XXXXX was the father of XXXXXXXXand XXXXXXXX, and the Grandfather of XXX, XXXX, XXXX, XXXXand XXXX. The relationship between XXXX and his two children had been strained for past 39 years, we were kids when he married his second wife and over time he essentially failed to understand what being a father is. XXX was easily manoeuvred to disregard his kids, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces and consequently was always finding ways to not have a relationship with us all. Nevertheless, it is shameful his kids and family were not notified of his passing, but I guess no one would expect any less. Approximately 6 months ago I heard XXXX was not well so I went to his home and asked security to buzz his suite. The women that answered told security she didn’t know who I was and not to allow me in????? Again, more disregard for his kids and for him as well. So, as I think about what our father gave us I will end by saying as adults my sister and I have learned how be stronger people better parents, better uncle and a better aunt. We commit to our family to never let anything or anyone get in the way of our relationship with our kids, our nephews and nieces. With all his shortcomings he is still our father and we always loved him.
Entry: In my time of grief and sorrow I am so revolted to read XXX's son's comments about his father and his one last attemp to defame his good name that I feel I must respond. XXX needed his kids when he was alive & fighting for his life with his terrible illness and not when he was dead. XXX always loved his kids and was so deeply hurt when he hefadn't heard from his son XXX for about 5 years. He contacted his daughter XXX when he became ill about 1-1/2 years ago and met with her. She showed no regard and was completely indifferent to his illness. When he asked to see his grandchildren she said "we'll see". He never heard from her again. Anyone who knew XXXX knows what a kind and loving person he was. Although it was erev Rosh Hashanah and people we busy preparing for the holiday, on such short notice they left everything to attend his funeral. The rabbi even remarked about the number of people who put themselves out and were there. This is the best respect Joe could have received. For a number of year XXXXand XXXX have shown no regard for their father and had no contact. They have always had a deep restment of me although for 25 years I tried to establish some kind of relationship for XXX's sake. I then just gave up. They should be ashamed of themselves for the hurt and suffering they caused their father and now I see they're trying to shift the blame This is something they'll have to live with for the rest of their lives. Everyone knows how I tried everything for XXX to extend his life and never left his side. I will always love and I miss him terribly. He was my rock. He always had a smile on his face and was very happy in our marriage. Even through his illness, he was not depressed. I saw to that. He was a wonderul loving husband.
Entry: We are very sorry to hear about uncle XXX. We wish we would have been notified about his passing, as the XXX family would have been in full attendance at the funeral. please accept our condolences.
Entry: This is disgraceful
Entry: Now this is one nice family!
Entry: Sorry about your loss; this page is for people to convey their condolences, not to air dirty laundry. let the man r.i.p.
Entry: My heartfelt condolences to the children and other family members who were not informed of their own father and uncles funeral. This is disgraceful!!! As a woman I would never allow any new husband to come in between my children and I. Unfortunately too many MEN allow the "new wife" to come between a loving family. Let him R.I.P. I'm sure there are 3 sides to this story.
Entry: I'm sure his kids would have left what they were doing on short notice if you would have told them their father died. You should be ashamed of yourself for airing dirty laundry on a public site.
Entry: This a disgrace to the deceased, your differences should be settled in a cage.
To say I was shocked by this public display is an understatement; apparently so were numerous others among the several memorial book entries.
I don't know this family; at this point I wouldn't even want to know this family.
But I can probably see how it started, why the son wrote what he did. He probably heard about his father's death and funeral and figured people would have been asking at the funeral why the man's own son and daughter didn't show up. He felt the need to let people know; this memorial book was the outlet for his anger and disappointment and to some extent, grief.
It is truly a shame how family units can disintegrate, how parents and/or children can be cast aside, can mean nothing anymore in a grand scheme of things.
May the man rest in peace, may his family know no more sorrow, and may they all discuss their grievances in the next world when they meet one another again, with Hashem as their judge.
Having read these entries, a saying from my school days came to mind: "Ezeh booshah v'cherpah." (Hebrew for "what an embarrassment and a disgrace")
I Wrote a Letter...
I have ALWAYS been known for my letter writing, my note writing.
Each one is personal, detailed, filled with the big picture and all the elements that make up that big picture.
When I spent half a year in Israel many years ago, I wrote lengthy, freeflowing letters to friends and family. They all commented on how wonderful it was to receive such letters, but not one person could write me a similar one in return.
Not that I wanted pages and pages of Toronto life, but I wanted morsels...and at least a couple of handfuls. Sometimes all I got back were a few crumbs. People were busy. Seemingly I wasn't...
Writing letters has always come easy to me. Doing so is easier than confronting a person at times; the invisible wall is up between you and the reader/recipient, but it is not a true barrier. In fact, that invisible wall allows for a freedom of sorts.
When people write thank-you notes for wedding gifts or engagement gifts, they write the same pat copy. I write warm notes intended solely for that particular reader, intended solely for what that person gave me. I've been told by many people that they love my notes, they keep my notes, they remember my notes...
When people lose someone in their life, I write notes of consolation; I dig into my heart for the words that will hopefully touch that person and console them in some small personal way.
I always try to make my words mean something to someone. They're not always supposed to be about me but rather, about the recipient.
It is my greatest pleasure to write letters; it is my greatest pleasure for me to touch someone with my words. It is my way of simply...sharing.
About ten days ago I checked out Facebook to see if a former classmate of mine was on it. I knew her birthday was around mine, and so I wanted to say hi and also wish her a happy birthday.
She was listed on Facebook so I dropped her a brief note, and she responded very happily, recalling that my birthday was also around hers and wishing me a happy birthday in return.
So I followed her note with quite a detailed lengthy one, responding to some of her comments and questions, and also simply catching her up on my life. It was no effort for me to do so; it just took a bit of time as I thought out my words.
I didn't expect a similar-length letter by any means, but I didn't expect this either, three sentences of a total six:
wow what a letter. i am intimidated to write you back. what a pleasure to read.
The fact that my letter intimidated her threw me; the compliment doesn't help pad that bit either.
I love making others happy with my words, but I never realized that I could intimidate someone with this...do I call it "my talent" or "my strength" or even "my signature"?
Friday, September 26, 2008
The New Year's a Comin'
Shanah Tovah from Pearliesofwisdom and family.
Wishing all of you and your families a very happy, healthy, prosperous and peaceful New Year.
May it be a good -- even a better! -- year for all of you.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
It's the Little Things...
...that count in a big way.
Today I turned 47. It was a day like any other -- getting the kids up in the morning, getting them to school, picking up groceries and running errands, dealing with the household, etc.
I got homemade b'day cards and email b'day cards; I got Facebook birthday greetings; I got telephone calls from siblings.
There was no option today to go out and celebrate this birthday, but I did celebrate it when I answered the phone just after 8:00 this morning to hear my mother singing me "Happy Birthday" and then my father getting on the phone to wish me a happy birthday and many other blessings.
Having my parents in my life makes for two of the greatest "presence" of all!
Today I turned 47. It was a day like any other -- getting the kids up in the morning, getting them to school, picking up groceries and running errands, dealing with the household, etc.
I got homemade b'day cards and email b'day cards; I got Facebook birthday greetings; I got telephone calls from siblings.
There was no option today to go out and celebrate this birthday, but I did celebrate it when I answered the phone just after 8:00 this morning to hear my mother singing me "Happy Birthday" and then my father getting on the phone to wish me a happy birthday and many other blessings.
Having my parents in my life makes for two of the greatest "presence" of all!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Are You There, G-d? It's Me...Pearl.
My husband came home from shul this a.m. and told me that a friend from shul is traveling to NY on Thursday to go to the OHEL, the Lubavitcher Rebbe's final resting ground, where people from all over the world come to pray at Rabbi Schneerson's grave, and often leave a "petek" -- the equivalent of the millions of notes stuffed into the Wailing Wall, notes that have prayers and requests for good health, peace, financial stability. The list goes on and on. The friend asked if we want to write a petek, so I began to write one this evening.
As I was writing, I realized I was writing in Hebrew, and then wondered WHY?? Does G-d only understand Hebrew? Are there not thousands of Lubavitchers who come from the world over to visit the OHEL? Are all the notes that are left at the gravesite written in Hebrew? Highly doubtful -- no doubt they are in Yiddish, English, French, Italian, Spanish, Portugese, etc.
The language of prayer can be the language one is most familiar and most comfortable with, but I guess my subconscious had decided that the holiest language should be the language of choice for my prayer representing my hopes and desires for my family.
Let us hope that Rabbi Schneerson is as good an emissary as the thousands he's sent out into the world and that he will be able to get my message straight to G-d... And the fact that my message doesn't need any translation might even speed things up! :)
As I was writing, I realized I was writing in Hebrew, and then wondered WHY?? Does G-d only understand Hebrew? Are there not thousands of Lubavitchers who come from the world over to visit the OHEL? Are all the notes that are left at the gravesite written in Hebrew? Highly doubtful -- no doubt they are in Yiddish, English, French, Italian, Spanish, Portugese, etc.
The language of prayer can be the language one is most familiar and most comfortable with, but I guess my subconscious had decided that the holiest language should be the language of choice for my prayer representing my hopes and desires for my family.
Let us hope that Rabbi Schneerson is as good an emissary as the thousands he's sent out into the world and that he will be able to get my message straight to G-d... And the fact that my message doesn't need any translation might even speed things up! :)
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Everyone Loved Molly
Molly Picon, with her geneyvishe oygen (mischievous eyes)I love this photo of the late, great doyenne of the Yiddish theater, Molly Picon.
Often referred to as the Jewish Helen Hayes, this diminutive actress left her mark on the world.
She was born Margaret Pyekoon on Broome Street on the Lower East Side of Manhattan on February 28, 1898.
In 1903, Clara [Molly's mother] took five-year-old Margaret, dressed in red and sporting an elegant fake-fur muff, to the Bijou Theater for a contest. A drunk on the trolley demanded that she do her act then and there. She consented, concluding with an imitation of the drunk himself. Impressed, he collected pennies for her from the other passengers. At the contest, she would add to them the first-prize five-dollar gold piece and the loose change that her first legitimate audience had spontaneously tossed onstage. Margaret/Molly Picon had begun her theatrical career...
Pet Peeve
Listen, people, and listen good. If you're going to post an engagement picture/album, a l'chaim/vort picture/album on http://www.onlysimchas.com/, then please...please...please... POST PICTURES OF YOUR WEDDING TOO!
We admired you in your surprise engagement-caught-on-film pics, we admired you and your chattan/kallah in your vort pics -- why stop there?
If it's about "ayin harah," you wouldn't be posting ANY pics of you and your beloved, so don't make that claim.
The people who have the right idea are the ones who do post engagement pics, then wedding pics, then bris/simchat bat pics...we get to see the beautiful, mazeldik progress of your singlehood as it becomes couplehood as it becomes parenthood!
And listen, for people like me, it doesn't help to list your engagement or other simcha WITHOUT posting ANY PICS at all.
So if you're going to do it at all, do it right! Okay???
'Nuf said.
We admired you in your surprise engagement-caught-on-film pics, we admired you and your chattan/kallah in your vort pics -- why stop there?
If it's about "ayin harah," you wouldn't be posting ANY pics of you and your beloved, so don't make that claim.
The people who have the right idea are the ones who do post engagement pics, then wedding pics, then bris/simchat bat pics...we get to see the beautiful, mazeldik progress of your singlehood as it becomes couplehood as it becomes parenthood!
And listen, for people like me, it doesn't help to list your engagement or other simcha WITHOUT posting ANY PICS at all.
So if you're going to do it at all, do it right! Okay???
'Nuf said.
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