A friend and I were recently discussing wedding anniversaries, and when I commented on the date of his upcoming anniversary, he told me that he wouldn't be celebrating... "[The] truth is every day with ____ is a celebration."
This man has the right attitude. Some twenty-plus years ago he found a spouse with whom he wanted to share his life. A married life is all-encompassing because it isn't always a road paved with gold: there are detours, there are one-way streets, there are dead ends, there are speed bumps, there are always "Men Working" signs posted along the way. Sometimes, women provide the road maps and directions, other times it's the men who do so. But this man chose the person with whom to share that front seat. They have been each other's navigator and have helped their back-seat passengers try to reach their destinations, too.
To deem each day a celebration is to recognize that marriage is not meant to be taken for granted. Family lives are enriched when each day is considered special and meaningful and treated as such.
I toast my friend with a hearty "L'Chaim" -- I am thrilled that all those years ago he found the best possible co-navigator with whom to share his life.
May you all be blessed with cherished co-navigators of your own...
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
The Tote Bag
I received a package in the mail yesterday -- it came from the West Coast -- and it was a gift.
A tote bag.
For some, a tote bag is a catchall for shlepping around daily needs -- it represents reality.
For others, a tote bag, this one in particular, represents wishes and a belief in dreams.
I know I will use my tote bag to hold and carry my dreams...which, I hope in turn, can become reality.
Hope + Dreams ( + Mazel...and even hard work) = Reality.
A tote bag.
For some, a tote bag is a catchall for shlepping around daily needs -- it represents reality.
For others, a tote bag, this one in particular, represents wishes and a belief in dreams.
I know I will use my tote bag to hold and carry my dreams...which, I hope in turn, can become reality.
Hope + Dreams ( + Mazel...and even hard work) = Reality.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Gifts from the Heart
In my lifetime thus far, I've come to realize and acknowledge that gifts from the heart mean so much.
A note, a poem, a photo, a joke, a child's handmade gift or card all hold special places for me.
They don't cost much to share, and the long-lasting value surpasses everything else.
I know that gifts like these have come with thought, with sentiment...and those are also the type of gifts I try to give.
I've given compliments, I've written poetry, I've composed music -- just because I could. I've smiled at people, I've volunteered my time and effort, just because. What satisfaction I get when the gift is welcomed because of the wonder it holds for some.
One of the best examples of this I can share is that many years ago someone close to me was in hospital with a very serious illness, and recovering from the follow-up surgery, which thank G-d, has helped give a gift of many more years of life...and still counting. As I visited daily, I met a wonderful elderly couple; the husband was suffering from Alzheimer's, and the wife was there to meet his daily needs. I talked with the wife regularly and with the husband when he had his moments of lucidity.
So impressed was I by the devotion and the love and the admiration evident between between these elderly people, I had to do what I know best: I wrote a poem for the couple. And the next opportunity I had, I left a copy of the poem at the hospital to be given to the wife.
Needless to say, the woman was moved to tears by my words and by the fact that I focused on her and her husband, in reality, strangers to me. She was more than thankful for this gift from the heart. And to that end...
A few weeks later, I received an envelope in the mail. I didn't recognize the return address in the corner, but I could see it was a personal piece of mail. When I opened the envelope, out slipped a card, and in that card was a scarf, a personalized scarf...with PEARL PEARL PEARL written everywhere. The note simply stated that with such a personalized poem I, too, deserved something personal.
I sometimes wear that scarf and remember Max and Milly... and the way I was able to touch their hearts, just as they touched mine.
(P.S. Oh, no...I think I'm starting to sound like John-Boy narrating offscreen about the Walton family.)
A note, a poem, a photo, a joke, a child's handmade gift or card all hold special places for me.
They don't cost much to share, and the long-lasting value surpasses everything else.
I know that gifts like these have come with thought, with sentiment...and those are also the type of gifts I try to give.
I've given compliments, I've written poetry, I've composed music -- just because I could. I've smiled at people, I've volunteered my time and effort, just because. What satisfaction I get when the gift is welcomed because of the wonder it holds for some.
One of the best examples of this I can share is that many years ago someone close to me was in hospital with a very serious illness, and recovering from the follow-up surgery, which thank G-d, has helped give a gift of many more years of life...and still counting. As I visited daily, I met a wonderful elderly couple; the husband was suffering from Alzheimer's, and the wife was there to meet his daily needs. I talked with the wife regularly and with the husband when he had his moments of lucidity.
So impressed was I by the devotion and the love and the admiration evident between between these elderly people, I had to do what I know best: I wrote a poem for the couple. And the next opportunity I had, I left a copy of the poem at the hospital to be given to the wife.
Needless to say, the woman was moved to tears by my words and by the fact that I focused on her and her husband, in reality, strangers to me. She was more than thankful for this gift from the heart. And to that end...
A few weeks later, I received an envelope in the mail. I didn't recognize the return address in the corner, but I could see it was a personal piece of mail. When I opened the envelope, out slipped a card, and in that card was a scarf, a personalized scarf...with PEARL PEARL PEARL written everywhere. The note simply stated that with such a personalized poem I, too, deserved something personal.
I sometimes wear that scarf and remember Max and Milly... and the way I was able to touch their hearts, just as they touched mine.
(P.S. Oh, no...I think I'm starting to sound like John-Boy narrating offscreen about the Walton family.)
Sunday, December 19, 2004
A State of Bliss
Today was my wedding anniversary. I got past that 1st year, aka a transitional year, but smooth transitioning for my husband and I; I got past that 7th year, aka seven-year-itch --no, there was no need to scratch; I got past that 10th year -- wow, a whole decade together. And I'm well on my way to "and beyond."
I thank G-d for my bashert, a wonderful, genuine, warm, menschlich guy, who also happens to be a great husband and father... and a definite Jack of all trades. Perhaps I was single a little longer than the average Modern Orthodox female, but I defined that "in limbo" status as "good things come to those who wait" or "G-d saved the best for last."
My children are truly a blessing -- they help keep me grounded as a person as I look at them in awe. I've learned to realize just how much of a miracle children really are. Fragile, a gift, a blessing (sometimes in more disguises than others!)...to be thankful for, not to be taken for granted.
If I could grant each of you a wish, it would be for you to be able to hold your spouse's hand in yours, your child's hand/children's hands in yours, and to let them linger there just a little bit longer than necessary...to help you achieve a state of bliss...
I thank G-d for my bashert, a wonderful, genuine, warm, menschlich guy, who also happens to be a great husband and father... and a definite Jack of all trades. Perhaps I was single a little longer than the average Modern Orthodox female, but I defined that "in limbo" status as "good things come to those who wait" or "G-d saved the best for last."
My children are truly a blessing -- they help keep me grounded as a person as I look at them in awe. I've learned to realize just how much of a miracle children really are. Fragile, a gift, a blessing (sometimes in more disguises than others!)...to be thankful for, not to be taken for granted.
If I could grant each of you a wish, it would be for you to be able to hold your spouse's hand in yours, your child's hand/children's hands in yours, and to let them linger there just a little bit longer than necessary...to help you achieve a state of bliss...
Tyson Pugsley
Our dog, a pug, is named Tyson Pugsley. Yes, it's a nice name, but not one I gave to him. We adopted him almost two years ago from a family who, for several reasons, had to give him up.
Never thought we'd get a dog-- I didn't grow up with one, I have three young children who keep me busy enough, I work full-time and I have a household to maintain.
But three years ago, my two youngest children were in a situation that involved a friend's dog scaring them so, that they were literally shivering with fright. Up until then, they'd always extended their hand to pet strange dogs.
I said to my husband that the only way they'd overcome the fear is if we get a dog of our own -- and so I started an online hunt to adopt one...
Well, a shidduch was made between Tyson and ourselves, and quite a nice one. Here came a dog with all the accoutrements, even with a pirate's costume -- for the owners it was a Halloween costume, for us it was a Purim costume. (that first year, my oldest child wore his Purim pirate's costume while delivering mishloach manot, and Tyson wore his. What a great sight to see!) He brought his own pillows and blankets, two beds, dog food, shampoos and brushes, toothbrush and toothpaste, toys...and lessons well learned. Instead of shaking his paw hello, we had him shaking "Good Shabbos" or "Good Yom Tov"; he also came very potty-trained and on good behavior. A definite "mechiyah" when owning a new pet.
Forgot to mention that Tyson Pugsley has such yicchus, and that's why we didn't change his name. He was almost five and came with a purebred pedigree and a large family tree that offered bizarre, yet interesting, names for his barking ancestry. I can't even trace my maternal or paternal side beyond great-grandparents, and here's my pug with a framable family tree. The Mormon Church in Utah didn't even have to do the work!
Thank G-d my children have definitely overcome their fear of dogs as they've learned to look after their pet. Tyson is a gentle, passive kind dog who wouldn't hurt anyone or anything, and therefore is a welcome member of our family.
Because he is not "little" by any means, he gets attention wherever he goes. We say that he's so ugly, he's cute. He is definitely much cuter than two other pugs who live in our neighborhood: Pugley and Brisket.
Unfortunately, with Tyson's short legs and his breathing difficulties (he snores loudly when he sleeps!), due to the breed that he is, he can't walk for long periods of time, and especially not when it's hot outside. But my little prince among canines has met with a solution: my youngest child gives up his ride in a stroller so that Tyson can sit in the carriage. Heads turn at this funny sight, and Tyson definitely gets to ride in style.
I've spoken to many frum people about the rights and wrongs of owning a dog. But we feel that it's right for us...and right for Tyson.
And as for all you other frum dog owners out there... I'm glad we're part of the same breed.
Never thought we'd get a dog-- I didn't grow up with one, I have three young children who keep me busy enough, I work full-time and I have a household to maintain.
But three years ago, my two youngest children were in a situation that involved a friend's dog scaring them so, that they were literally shivering with fright. Up until then, they'd always extended their hand to pet strange dogs.
I said to my husband that the only way they'd overcome the fear is if we get a dog of our own -- and so I started an online hunt to adopt one...
Well, a shidduch was made between Tyson and ourselves, and quite a nice one. Here came a dog with all the accoutrements, even with a pirate's costume -- for the owners it was a Halloween costume, for us it was a Purim costume. (that first year, my oldest child wore his Purim pirate's costume while delivering mishloach manot, and Tyson wore his. What a great sight to see!) He brought his own pillows and blankets, two beds, dog food, shampoos and brushes, toothbrush and toothpaste, toys...and lessons well learned. Instead of shaking his paw hello, we had him shaking "Good Shabbos" or "Good Yom Tov"; he also came very potty-trained and on good behavior. A definite "mechiyah" when owning a new pet.
Forgot to mention that Tyson Pugsley has such yicchus, and that's why we didn't change his name. He was almost five and came with a purebred pedigree and a large family tree that offered bizarre, yet interesting, names for his barking ancestry. I can't even trace my maternal or paternal side beyond great-grandparents, and here's my pug with a framable family tree. The Mormon Church in Utah didn't even have to do the work!
Thank G-d my children have definitely overcome their fear of dogs as they've learned to look after their pet. Tyson is a gentle, passive kind dog who wouldn't hurt anyone or anything, and therefore is a welcome member of our family.
Because he is not "little" by any means, he gets attention wherever he goes. We say that he's so ugly, he's cute. He is definitely much cuter than two other pugs who live in our neighborhood: Pugley and Brisket.
Unfortunately, with Tyson's short legs and his breathing difficulties (he snores loudly when he sleeps!), due to the breed that he is, he can't walk for long periods of time, and especially not when it's hot outside. But my little prince among canines has met with a solution: my youngest child gives up his ride in a stroller so that Tyson can sit in the carriage. Heads turn at this funny sight, and Tyson definitely gets to ride in style.
I've spoken to many frum people about the rights and wrongs of owning a dog. But we feel that it's right for us...and right for Tyson.
And as for all you other frum dog owners out there... I'm glad we're part of the same breed.
Shlemazel Mazel
Shlemazel Mazel (originally written December 12, 2004)
It was not even two days ago
That I sat down and wrote you a note
Opening with the lines: "Chag Sameach...Hope this note finds you and your family well."
I guess things were not so well, after all.
Today the famous shul automaton recorded voice could be heard on my telephone: "We regret to inform you of the passing of Mr. E-'s mother. Funeral will be held on Sunday, 2 p.m., Steeles-College Chapel. Shiva to follow at..."
What actually went on two days ago, when I sent out my message?
Today I feel cold, horribly callous for having sent out a business note at such a sensitive hour.
Of course, it was not my fault--"You could not have known." "It's an honest mistake." "I'm sure he'll understand..." is what I'm continually hearing when I tell of my untimely fault. Someone tries to cite some Rabbinic tractate to help ease my conscience.
But I still cannot help but feel that I have just been a victim of "shlemazel mazel!"
It was not even two days ago
That I sat down and wrote you a note
Opening with the lines: "Chag Sameach...Hope this note finds you and your family well."
I guess things were not so well, after all.
Today the famous shul automaton recorded voice could be heard on my telephone: "We regret to inform you of the passing of Mr. E-'s mother. Funeral will be held on Sunday, 2 p.m., Steeles-College Chapel. Shiva to follow at..."
What actually went on two days ago, when I sent out my message?
Today I feel cold, horribly callous for having sent out a business note at such a sensitive hour.
Of course, it was not my fault--"You could not have known." "It's an honest mistake." "I'm sure he'll understand..." is what I'm continually hearing when I tell of my untimely fault. Someone tries to cite some Rabbinic tractate to help ease my conscience.
But I still cannot help but feel that I have just been a victim of "shlemazel mazel!"
Friday, December 17, 2004
Poetry To Carry You Into the Weekend
Toronto Sunset
i look out my office window at 4:50 p.m.
the sky down there in the southwest end
of the city
is a beautiful one as it settles in
for the night --
unraveling its banded blanket of
peach, pink, orange and yellow
swaddling the cityfolk in its vast coziness.
i hug myself
and smile.
i look out my office window at 4:50 p.m.
the sky down there in the southwest end
of the city
is a beautiful one as it settles in
for the night --
unraveling its banded blanket of
peach, pink, orange and yellow
swaddling the cityfolk in its vast coziness.
i hug myself
and smile.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
To Know Me Is To Read Between the Lines
I think I'm a well-rounded person; a Jill of all trades, master of...only a couple.
But I HATE HATE HATE when people make assumptions about me...as has been done much of my life.
"Oh, you're so quiet." "You're probably smart." "You must be very conservative in your thinking." These are just some of the comments I continue to hear from people.
You know what, people!? I'm not so quiet, I'm not always smart (didn't I tell you in an earlier blog that I can't refold maps?) and some of my thinking is radical...as are my impulsive actions and words at times. (but no birds get loose at those times!)
Well, I was at a work-related party this evening, and heard one of those lines from a fellow employee. "You're really going to surprise people." When I asked "Why?" I was told,"Because usually you're so nice and quiet." GRRR!!! Yes, I'm nice, but I'm not quiet...once upon a time, perhaps 25 and 30 years ago I was...but I outgrew that. I can sing with the rest of them, I can tell jokes and keep people laughing with the best of them. And it feels natural to me to do so. So, please, instead of saying that other people will be surprised, why not just say, " I didn't realize just how funny/offbeat/entertaining/etc., etc., etc. you were. Don't know why I ever assumed you were quiet."
Watch as those layers of Pearl unfold before your very eyes...
But I HATE HATE HATE when people make assumptions about me...as has been done much of my life.
"Oh, you're so quiet." "You're probably smart." "You must be very conservative in your thinking." These are just some of the comments I continue to hear from people.
You know what, people!? I'm not so quiet, I'm not always smart (didn't I tell you in an earlier blog that I can't refold maps?) and some of my thinking is radical...as are my impulsive actions and words at times. (but no birds get loose at those times!)
Well, I was at a work-related party this evening, and heard one of those lines from a fellow employee. "You're really going to surprise people." When I asked "Why?" I was told,"Because usually you're so nice and quiet." GRRR!!! Yes, I'm nice, but I'm not quiet...once upon a time, perhaps 25 and 30 years ago I was...but I outgrew that. I can sing with the rest of them, I can tell jokes and keep people laughing with the best of them. And it feels natural to me to do so. So, please, instead of saying that other people will be surprised, why not just say, " I didn't realize just how funny/offbeat/entertaining/etc., etc., etc. you were. Don't know why I ever assumed you were quiet."
Watch as those layers of Pearl unfold before your very eyes...
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Lost...but Eventually Found
Can't believe it--between yesterday and today, I got lost in blah, blah, blah blogland. I couldn't find my way back to my site. (and when I just created a wonderful entry for today, I tripped up again, and lost what I'd written.)
How many combinations of passwords and site names did I use? Boy, was I annoyed, frustrated that I couldn't retrace my steps back here. But a kind soul, who posted my link to his well-read blog, became my road map and I found my way back this a.m. to read what I'd written yesterday night.
And then tonight came and I wanted to post again, and couldn't find my way. Asking for technical help got me further lost, and it was just by continual trial and error -- and mazel, good luck -- that I found my way here.
I'm great with directions, don't guess otherwise, but I do have a real problem with refolding maps to their original creases. Getting lost reminded me too much of that flaw of mine. I know how to do it...I just can't!
But in any case, I'm here now. I want to thank my public comment-er for welcoming me so warmly to the land of blog, as well as my private comment-er for his. Oh-oh, I've become one of you types! (no, honestly, that just slipped out -- no pun, literary or otherwise, intended!)
I now must say: "I pledge allegiance to this blog to make it clear and concise, rather than too detail-oriented, one of my crutches and talents." I don't want to lose any readers -- hey, you still there? Hullo! Or have you gone off to peek into some other person's private life!
In any case, I want to leave you readers with this pearlie of wisdom, garnered from the wisdom of my dear parents: "Words are like birds. Once they're out, they fly away and you can't retrieve them." So please, watch what you say and who you say it to. Mean what you say and say what you mean -- and I'll try to do the same. After all, we don't want to be taking a walk one day and come across a flock of birds sitting high up in a tree, and have to wonder: "Did I let that flock loose?!"
I wish you all "Chalomot Paz"--Hebrew for "Golden Dreams."
How many combinations of passwords and site names did I use? Boy, was I annoyed, frustrated that I couldn't retrace my steps back here. But a kind soul, who posted my link to his well-read blog, became my road map and I found my way back this a.m. to read what I'd written yesterday night.
And then tonight came and I wanted to post again, and couldn't find my way. Asking for technical help got me further lost, and it was just by continual trial and error -- and mazel, good luck -- that I found my way here.
I'm great with directions, don't guess otherwise, but I do have a real problem with refolding maps to their original creases. Getting lost reminded me too much of that flaw of mine. I know how to do it...I just can't!
But in any case, I'm here now. I want to thank my public comment-er for welcoming me so warmly to the land of blog, as well as my private comment-er for his. Oh-oh, I've become one of you types! (no, honestly, that just slipped out -- no pun, literary or otherwise, intended!)
I now must say: "I pledge allegiance to this blog to make it clear and concise, rather than too detail-oriented, one of my crutches and talents." I don't want to lose any readers -- hey, you still there? Hullo! Or have you gone off to peek into some other person's private life!
In any case, I want to leave you readers with this pearlie of wisdom, garnered from the wisdom of my dear parents: "Words are like birds. Once they're out, they fly away and you can't retrieve them." So please, watch what you say and who you say it to. Mean what you say and say what you mean -- and I'll try to do the same. After all, we don't want to be taking a walk one day and come across a flock of birds sitting high up in a tree, and have to wonder: "Did I let that flock loose?!"
I wish you all "Chalomot Paz"--Hebrew for "Golden Dreams."
A Reason To Blog
I have recently become caught up in the world of blogging--never before had I even used the term or sought out one to read until I learned about an onsite journal, Seraphic Secret.
http://www.seraphicpress.com
I discovered a world of beautiful, but often sad, images and words. A world of fathers and sons, mothers and sons, sisters and brothers, teachers and students. A world of living ... and being, a world of dreaming ... and action, a world of loving ... and hoping ... a world of feeling ... and knowing, a world of love. .. and loss.
I discovered that there is a great void in this world, left by the untimely passing of one Ariel Chaim Avrech, an adored and devoted son and brother and Torah scholar.
In each generation there is a great Tzaddik-- a righteous person. Some are known and named, while others remain anonymous until after they have passed from this world to the next. And to the best of my knowledge, to the best of my long-distance insight, Ariel Chaim Avrech was a Tzaddik.
May his memory be for a blessing...
http://www.seraphicpress.com
I discovered a world of beautiful, but often sad, images and words. A world of fathers and sons, mothers and sons, sisters and brothers, teachers and students. A world of living ... and being, a world of dreaming ... and action, a world of loving ... and hoping ... a world of feeling ... and knowing, a world of love. .. and loss.
I discovered that there is a great void in this world, left by the untimely passing of one Ariel Chaim Avrech, an adored and devoted son and brother and Torah scholar.
In each generation there is a great Tzaddik-- a righteous person. Some are known and named, while others remain anonymous until after they have passed from this world to the next. And to the best of my knowledge, to the best of my long-distance insight, Ariel Chaim Avrech was a Tzaddik.
May his memory be for a blessing...
My Pearlies of Wisdom
Welcome to the world of all things Pearl.
As a writer, I am also an observer. And as an observer, I am able to have -- and share -- my opinion of things. I call my opinion: Pearlies of Wisdom. They are not grand, like pearls of wisdom, but are tiny insights, strunglikeanecklaceofbeads, to wear around my neck, and to place around your neck when you need advice, insight of a mother, wife and friend.
Welcome to the world of all things Pearl.
As a writer, I am also an observer. And as an observer, I am able to have -- and share -- my opinion of things. I call my opinion: Pearlies of Wisdom. They are not grand, like pearls of wisdom, but are tiny insights, strunglikeanecklaceofbeads, to wear around my neck, and to place around your neck when you need advice, insight of a mother, wife and friend.
Welcome to the world of all things Pearl.
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