I've been tagged by the brilliant and most eloquent 17-year-old blogger behind Ink As Rain http://inkasrain.blogspot.com/ to note 5 random acts of kindness that I have completed.
I'd like to think that I do them all the time without being conscious of it, but now that I've been asked to share them with the blogging world, it's much more difficult to pinpoint. But here goes:
1. I was out with my daughter today at a mall and was in the toy section of Sears, when I saw a doll from a Barbie's Kelly collection.The doll was called Becky, and I suddenly thought of a girl at work whose name is Rebecca, but whom everyone calls Becky. It's not that I'm even close with this girl, but I thought she might get a kick from this miniature doll, and so I bought Becky for Becky. Can't wait to see her reaction tomorrow at work when I give her this unexpected toy.
2. I can be notorious for leaving dishes in the sink between meals if I'm under a time constraint. Today I happened to stop at my parents' home when they weren't around, had a drink and washed the glass and put it in the drainer.
3. Lately I've been gladly offering my knowledge of the publishing world to fellow bloggers who have asked. I even gave someone more information than they requested with some job-related Web sites, and even a contact name at a company.
4. At my children's swimming lessons this morning, I was talking to a fellow parent who has an autistic son taking lessons as well. I searched for pen and paper in my purse to write down a recommendation of a book I'd read many many years ago about a family and their experiences with their autistic son, who seemingly overcame his disabilities. If anyone is interested, the book is called Son-Rise, written by Barry Neil Kaufman, and I think it came out in the late 1970s.
5. My final random act of kindness is that I AM NOT GOING TO TAG ANYONE SPECIFIC WITH THIS. I've learned that not everyone appreciates these "chains," although I have no problems with completing them. But I will throw it open to all my [many/few] readers. Please feel free to tag yourselves and share with us in your blog or in my comments section, 5 recent acts of kindness you've done.
******
Footnote: It so happens that in a couple of days I will be meeting this blogger who tagged me. She will be in Toronto and we arranged to meet. I'm looking forward to it. A week later I will be meeting other fellow bloggers.
I think it is rare that bloggers get the chance to meet; if they do, that veil of mystery and anonymity is lifted and they become two strangers who get to meet, rather than remain as just two strangers. And very often, strangers do become friends...
Sunday, June 05, 2005
The Simple Pleasures in Life
Blogroll Me!
"Doesn't take much to make me happy
or make me smile with glee..."
I think I live by those song lyrics -- I take pleasure in the simplest things in life: my husband's good and generous nature, my children's smiles and laughter, a robin's song, the smell of freshly-cut grass, a rainfall, my ability to find just the right words to help me say or write just the right thing, my love for music and singing, giving compliments, lending a helping hand, having a good rapport with family and friends, etc.
Of course, I could write pages and pages of blog posts about the simple pleasures in my life. But I won't take my time -- or yours -- to do so. You each have your own simple pleasures; some might match mine.
Basically, I think we are happy if we are healthy, if our families are healthy. Truly, everything else is secondary.
But I will say that one of my simple pleasures is going on a Web site that I discovered not all that long ago: www.frumster.com. I love to see the successes they've had in matching up people, I love to read these people's stories relayed in brief to us readers and learn how they met and how the "courtship" evolved. I love learning that there are two fewer single people in the world -- these people have met their basherts and are setting on a new life course...together.
For me it isn't about the mitzvah of matching someone up, or the mitzvah of them marrying to fulfill "Pru Urvu" -- it's the simple fact that two people have found each other, two people with similar outlooks and an attraction to one another, and a mutual goal. Two people who deserve a chance to be happy together.
I am elated when I meet people who've met at their workplaces and later married, or the few people that I know who went on www.JDate.com, met and eventually married.
To share in someone's happiness, even a stranger's, is a wonderful means of seeing beyond yourself, beyond your own happiness...and appreciating the simple pleasures in life.
"Doesn't take much to make me happy
or make me smile with glee..."
I think I live by those song lyrics -- I take pleasure in the simplest things in life: my husband's good and generous nature, my children's smiles and laughter, a robin's song, the smell of freshly-cut grass, a rainfall, my ability to find just the right words to help me say or write just the right thing, my love for music and singing, giving compliments, lending a helping hand, having a good rapport with family and friends, etc.
Of course, I could write pages and pages of blog posts about the simple pleasures in my life. But I won't take my time -- or yours -- to do so. You each have your own simple pleasures; some might match mine.
Basically, I think we are happy if we are healthy, if our families are healthy. Truly, everything else is secondary.
But I will say that one of my simple pleasures is going on a Web site that I discovered not all that long ago: www.frumster.com. I love to see the successes they've had in matching up people, I love to read these people's stories relayed in brief to us readers and learn how they met and how the "courtship" evolved. I love learning that there are two fewer single people in the world -- these people have met their basherts and are setting on a new life course...together.
For me it isn't about the mitzvah of matching someone up, or the mitzvah of them marrying to fulfill "Pru Urvu" -- it's the simple fact that two people have found each other, two people with similar outlooks and an attraction to one another, and a mutual goal. Two people who deserve a chance to be happy together.
I am elated when I meet people who've met at their workplaces and later married, or the few people that I know who went on www.JDate.com, met and eventually married.
To share in someone's happiness, even a stranger's, is a wonderful means of seeing beyond yourself, beyond your own happiness...and appreciating the simple pleasures in life.
Friday, June 03, 2005
I'm Not Too Sure About That Second Quote; Care To Comment?
Blogroll Me!
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. — Cyril Connolly
Those who write clearly have readers, those who write obscurely have commentators. — Albert Camus
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. — Cyril Connolly
Those who write clearly have readers, those who write obscurely have commentators. — Albert Camus
Barney Is Behaving Badly
Blogroll Me!
I have three young children. These children need to brush their teeth at least twice a day. These children should not use adult toothpaste so I buy them children's toothpaste.
Supermom buys them fun toothpastes with superheroes, princesses, adventurers depicted on the tubes. Supermom buys them musical tube toothpastes. Children know not to use musical tube toothpastes on Shabbos or Yom Tov.
Barney is a musical tube toothpaste. Barney plays that haunting -- read: now annoying -- melody, "Barney Is a Dinosaur..." Children know that they have to brush for as long as the music plays.
Some time ago, the tube got ferkakt, lid was broken off from tube and musical cap sat alone. At some other point in time, musical cap got wet from sitting on the vanity beside the sink. Music cap is now ferkakt. Music cap has a mind of its own...deciding to play music whenever it wants, by itself, without any prompting from children.
Supermom is at her computer late one night when she hears a tinny, faint sound of music. She is scared, does not know where music is coming from. She traces it to its source: musical tube toothpaste cap. Supermom slams the cap on the vanity to make the music stop. Supermom feels that she is in a modern-day episode of THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
Supermom forgets the episode and goes about doing all the things that earned her the title Supermom (she might have earned it, but truly does not deserve it; title should be bestowed upon hubby because he is Supermom and Superdad; now I am just being Supersilly!).
For the past few days, Barney is behaving badly. He seems to want to have the last word. He entertains us with his music at all hours of the night, when children and Superdad are sleeping and Supermom is being Superblogger.
Tonight Barney was relegated to a bathroom drawer. That wasn't good enough for him. He insisted on being heard. I truly wonder when he will next be showcasing his identifying song. I truly wonder if I should give him the final curtain and toss him away...into the garbage, where all toothpaste tubes and their caps end up.
Perhaps not just yet. I think Barney is proving that he is SuperToothpasteCapEntertainer. After all, he can be anything and do anything for: [everbody together now] "Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination..."
I have three young children. These children need to brush their teeth at least twice a day. These children should not use adult toothpaste so I buy them children's toothpaste.
Supermom buys them fun toothpastes with superheroes, princesses, adventurers depicted on the tubes. Supermom buys them musical tube toothpastes. Children know not to use musical tube toothpastes on Shabbos or Yom Tov.
Barney is a musical tube toothpaste. Barney plays that haunting -- read: now annoying -- melody, "Barney Is a Dinosaur..." Children know that they have to brush for as long as the music plays.
Some time ago, the tube got ferkakt, lid was broken off from tube and musical cap sat alone. At some other point in time, musical cap got wet from sitting on the vanity beside the sink. Music cap is now ferkakt. Music cap has a mind of its own...deciding to play music whenever it wants, by itself, without any prompting from children.
Supermom is at her computer late one night when she hears a tinny, faint sound of music. She is scared, does not know where music is coming from. She traces it to its source: musical tube toothpaste cap. Supermom slams the cap on the vanity to make the music stop. Supermom feels that she is in a modern-day episode of THE TWILIGHT ZONE.
Supermom forgets the episode and goes about doing all the things that earned her the title Supermom (she might have earned it, but truly does not deserve it; title should be bestowed upon hubby because he is Supermom and Superdad; now I am just being Supersilly!).
For the past few days, Barney is behaving badly. He seems to want to have the last word. He entertains us with his music at all hours of the night, when children and Superdad are sleeping and Supermom is being Superblogger.
Tonight Barney was relegated to a bathroom drawer. That wasn't good enough for him. He insisted on being heard. I truly wonder when he will next be showcasing his identifying song. I truly wonder if I should give him the final curtain and toss him away...into the garbage, where all toothpaste tubes and their caps end up.
Perhaps not just yet. I think Barney is proving that he is SuperToothpasteCapEntertainer. After all, he can be anything and do anything for: [everbody together now] "Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination..."
Thursday, June 02, 2005
"Red Rover, Red Rover, Do We Let Spielberg Go Over?"
Blogroll Me!
Click on the linking title; first I heard of this "Hollywood moment".
All I have to say is "Spielberg, if you're reading this, you should BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!"
******
An afterthought: "Der Spiegel" -- the magazine named in the linked post -- translated from German means "the mirror". Steven, can you really look at yourself in the mirror now, and say you're pleased with what you said in Tom's defense? Maybe the mirror should crack and you should get some seven years of bad luck. Does Scientology allow these wives' tales in their doctrine?
Click on the linking title; first I heard of this "Hollywood moment".
All I have to say is "Spielberg, if you're reading this, you should BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!"
******
An afterthought: "Der Spiegel" -- the magazine named in the linked post -- translated from German means "the mirror". Steven, can you really look at yourself in the mirror now, and say you're pleased with what you said in Tom's defense? Maybe the mirror should crack and you should get some seven years of bad luck. Does Scientology allow these wives' tales in their doctrine?
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Dial T for Telephone
Blogroll Me!
One of my sons will G-d willing turn 10 over Shavuot. I don't know where the time has flown, I just know that it has.
He was born in a downtown hospital on an early-morning Wednesday, and although we were supposed to bring him home Friday around noon, there were reasons to keep him in the hospital and put him in the neonatal intensive care unit. Imagine, bli ayin harah, a 9 1/2 lb. baby boy in among teeny tiny preemies who looked like little dolls; my son looked like a two-month old! I even came down at one point in his stay in that department to find that my little strong man had pulled out his IV from his hand. (mind you, he did the same thing 2 1/2 years later when he had an IV-type contraption in his hand for taking blood samples, gave it to the nurse and insisted we leave.)
Thank G-d, after having to stay over Shabbat in the hospital after all, but with my husband able to stay with me, we were able to bring our clean-bill-of-health firstborn home on the Sunday -- Father's Day.
I remember sitting in the back seat of the car, our precious cargo in the infant car seat beside me. I kept looking down at him, and then out at the world beyond the car window. It was a glorious, hot sunny day, and I remember seeing everything with a new perspective; it was as if I'd been reborn and had missed out on the most mundane things for the past several days as I was in the hospital.
We came home -- not as a couple, but as a family.
Now, I don't really know why I took you down Memory Lane of June 1995, but I think it's got something to do with the idea of changes/progress/maturity, so I could lead into this much-shorter tale.
This a.m. I was driving that son to school for early morning davening, and we were listening to the radio deejay. He had a caller on, who was hesitant in answering a question. The deejay said, "You just wanted to be on the air, didn't you?"
At that point, I had a flashback of a girlfriend and I continually calling radio stations when we were young teenagers, hoping the phone would ring, get picked up and our song request would be aired for all of Toronto to hear (or at least everyone who had their A.M. radio set at that moment to that particular station and was listening). So I started to tell my son, "When we were young, my friend and I would dial a radio station to--"
"What's 'dial'"? my bechor asked.
Oh, the times, they are a-changin'....
One of my sons will G-d willing turn 10 over Shavuot. I don't know where the time has flown, I just know that it has.
He was born in a downtown hospital on an early-morning Wednesday, and although we were supposed to bring him home Friday around noon, there were reasons to keep him in the hospital and put him in the neonatal intensive care unit. Imagine, bli ayin harah, a 9 1/2 lb. baby boy in among teeny tiny preemies who looked like little dolls; my son looked like a two-month old! I even came down at one point in his stay in that department to find that my little strong man had pulled out his IV from his hand. (mind you, he did the same thing 2 1/2 years later when he had an IV-type contraption in his hand for taking blood samples, gave it to the nurse and insisted we leave.)
Thank G-d, after having to stay over Shabbat in the hospital after all, but with my husband able to stay with me, we were able to bring our clean-bill-of-health firstborn home on the Sunday -- Father's Day.
I remember sitting in the back seat of the car, our precious cargo in the infant car seat beside me. I kept looking down at him, and then out at the world beyond the car window. It was a glorious, hot sunny day, and I remember seeing everything with a new perspective; it was as if I'd been reborn and had missed out on the most mundane things for the past several days as I was in the hospital.
We came home -- not as a couple, but as a family.
Now, I don't really know why I took you down Memory Lane of June 1995, but I think it's got something to do with the idea of changes/progress/maturity, so I could lead into this much-shorter tale.
This a.m. I was driving that son to school for early morning davening, and we were listening to the radio deejay. He had a caller on, who was hesitant in answering a question. The deejay said, "You just wanted to be on the air, didn't you?"
At that point, I had a flashback of a girlfriend and I continually calling radio stations when we were young teenagers, hoping the phone would ring, get picked up and our song request would be aired for all of Toronto to hear (or at least everyone who had their A.M. radio set at that moment to that particular station and was listening). So I started to tell my son, "When we were young, my friend and I would dial a radio station to--"
"What's 'dial'"? my bechor asked.
Oh, the times, they are a-changin'....
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
The Star Wars Jew
Blogroll Me!
I am not a Star Wars fanatic -- or fan -- in the least, but I know that many of you readers are. So I decided I'll share this cute piece that appeared in the Jewish Journal (Los Angeles).
2005-05-27
‘Star Wars’ for Jews
by Adam Wills, Associate Editor
I was out communing with the nerds last weekend, contributing to the $158.5 million record four-day opening for “Revenge of the Sith.” Now that the series is over and done with (at least until George Lucas launches his live-action “Star Wars” television series), I began reflecting on all things Jewish in the saga set a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Even though Lucas considers himself a “Buddhist Methodist,” and many of the themes from the series are inspired by the universal mythic structure explored by writer Joseph Campbell, there are some elements in the series that are undeniably Jewish.
Is Darth Vader a Kohen?
Even though it’s too small to see on screen, part of Darth Vader’s chestplate features three lines of Hebrew, one of which appears to be upside down. What the lines say is a matter of much online debate among Jewish “Star Wars” fans. On TheForce.net, which features photos of the Hebrew script in question, one blogger believes it’s a play on a section from Exodus 16 about repentance, while another thinks the lines read: “His actions/deeds will not be forgiven until he is proven innocent” and “One shall be regarded innocent until he is proven guilty.”
May the Fast Be With You
Much like nonpracticing Jews, many of the folks in the “Star Wars” universe invoke their belief in the Force, a God-like energy that permeates every living thing, typically when a situation seems dire or when luck is needed. And even though there aren’t that many Jedi, the only people who seem to practice this faith on a day-to-day basis, the Order has an opulent temple.
Once Anakin Skywalker was done offing the Jedi order in “Sith,” I pondered why they would have bothered to construct such an obscenely large facility, especially considering that each time it’s featured in the films the structure is obviously not being filled to capacity. Then it dawned on me: the High Holidays.
Shylock in Space
Lucas was criticized for being fairly politically incorrect with his aliens in “The Phantom Menace,” from the Japanese-sounding Neimodians and the grammatically strained Jamaican gobbledygook of the Gungans. But the character most offensive to Jews was the flying alien Watto, the bearded, Eastern European-accented slave owner of the Skywalker family, who comes off as a greedy Jewish merchant. To paraphrase Jar Jar Binks: Mesa farklempt.
Yoda: In the ‘Know’
The name of the pint-sized Jedi Muppet, voiced by Jewish actor-director Frank Oz, translates as “the one who knows” in Hebrew. Yes, but when that knowledge is delivered in a way that’s reminiscent of a bad fortune cookie, it’s difficult to take seriously.
Jedi Jew
Anakin Skywalker’s story is quintessentially Jewish. He starts off as a cute kid everyone thinks will grow up to be the messiah. When he finishes studying with the rabbi (Obi-Wan Kenobi), he disappoints everyone by dropping out of the shul and falling in with the wrong crowd. In his old age he ends up a ba’al teshuvah.
C3PO, Bar Mitzvah Boy
After the Rebel Alliance landing party is captured by the Ewoks on Endor in “Return of the Jedi,” Luke Skywalker levitates the chair C3PO is sitting in to convince the fuzzy creatures that the protocol droid is a god. The only thing missing from this scene: a round of “Hava Nagila” and Ewoks dancing in circles.
Jewish Chicks Kick Butt
In the prequels, we have Natalie Portman, an Israeli-born Jew, playing Luke and Leia’s mother, Padmé Naberrie Amidala. While she fought beasties and looked fabulous doing it in a slinky white cat suit in “Attack of the Clones,” Amidala never displayed the same feistiness that made Leia stand out in the original films.
Carrie Fisher, Jewish on her estranged father’s side, played against the Jewish American Princess stereotype as the gun-toting, take-charge Princess Leia Organa. Never one to shy away from a fight, Leia, in a very Judith-like way, seizes on an opportunity and strangles Jabba the Hutt to save her own people in “Return of the Jedi.”
Even if the “Star Wars” saga wasn’t written specifically with Jews in mind, the theme of good versus evil set in an alien universe speaks to the American Jewish experience. Like Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, we must often choose between the comfortable complacency of assimilation and the risks associated with membership in a noble but highly misunderstood path to repairing the universe.
May the tikkun olam be with you.
I am not a Star Wars fanatic -- or fan -- in the least, but I know that many of you readers are. So I decided I'll share this cute piece that appeared in the Jewish Journal (Los Angeles).
2005-05-27
‘Star Wars’ for Jews
by Adam Wills, Associate Editor
I was out communing with the nerds last weekend, contributing to the $158.5 million record four-day opening for “Revenge of the Sith.” Now that the series is over and done with (at least until George Lucas launches his live-action “Star Wars” television series), I began reflecting on all things Jewish in the saga set a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Even though Lucas considers himself a “Buddhist Methodist,” and many of the themes from the series are inspired by the universal mythic structure explored by writer Joseph Campbell, there are some elements in the series that are undeniably Jewish.
Is Darth Vader a Kohen?
Even though it’s too small to see on screen, part of Darth Vader’s chestplate features three lines of Hebrew, one of which appears to be upside down. What the lines say is a matter of much online debate among Jewish “Star Wars” fans. On TheForce.net, which features photos of the Hebrew script in question, one blogger believes it’s a play on a section from Exodus 16 about repentance, while another thinks the lines read: “His actions/deeds will not be forgiven until he is proven innocent” and “One shall be regarded innocent until he is proven guilty.”
May the Fast Be With You
Much like nonpracticing Jews, many of the folks in the “Star Wars” universe invoke their belief in the Force, a God-like energy that permeates every living thing, typically when a situation seems dire or when luck is needed. And even though there aren’t that many Jedi, the only people who seem to practice this faith on a day-to-day basis, the Order has an opulent temple.
Once Anakin Skywalker was done offing the Jedi order in “Sith,” I pondered why they would have bothered to construct such an obscenely large facility, especially considering that each time it’s featured in the films the structure is obviously not being filled to capacity. Then it dawned on me: the High Holidays.
Shylock in Space
Lucas was criticized for being fairly politically incorrect with his aliens in “The Phantom Menace,” from the Japanese-sounding Neimodians and the grammatically strained Jamaican gobbledygook of the Gungans. But the character most offensive to Jews was the flying alien Watto, the bearded, Eastern European-accented slave owner of the Skywalker family, who comes off as a greedy Jewish merchant. To paraphrase Jar Jar Binks: Mesa farklempt.
Yoda: In the ‘Know’
The name of the pint-sized Jedi Muppet, voiced by Jewish actor-director Frank Oz, translates as “the one who knows” in Hebrew. Yes, but when that knowledge is delivered in a way that’s reminiscent of a bad fortune cookie, it’s difficult to take seriously.
Jedi Jew
Anakin Skywalker’s story is quintessentially Jewish. He starts off as a cute kid everyone thinks will grow up to be the messiah. When he finishes studying with the rabbi (Obi-Wan Kenobi), he disappoints everyone by dropping out of the shul and falling in with the wrong crowd. In his old age he ends up a ba’al teshuvah.
C3PO, Bar Mitzvah Boy
After the Rebel Alliance landing party is captured by the Ewoks on Endor in “Return of the Jedi,” Luke Skywalker levitates the chair C3PO is sitting in to convince the fuzzy creatures that the protocol droid is a god. The only thing missing from this scene: a round of “Hava Nagila” and Ewoks dancing in circles.
Jewish Chicks Kick Butt
In the prequels, we have Natalie Portman, an Israeli-born Jew, playing Luke and Leia’s mother, Padmé Naberrie Amidala. While she fought beasties and looked fabulous doing it in a slinky white cat suit in “Attack of the Clones,” Amidala never displayed the same feistiness that made Leia stand out in the original films.
Carrie Fisher, Jewish on her estranged father’s side, played against the Jewish American Princess stereotype as the gun-toting, take-charge Princess Leia Organa. Never one to shy away from a fight, Leia, in a very Judith-like way, seizes on an opportunity and strangles Jabba the Hutt to save her own people in “Return of the Jedi.”
Even if the “Star Wars” saga wasn’t written specifically with Jews in mind, the theme of good versus evil set in an alien universe speaks to the American Jewish experience. Like Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, we must often choose between the comfortable complacency of assimilation and the risks associated with membership in a noble but highly misunderstood path to repairing the universe.
May the tikkun olam be with you.
Lincoln Place Lullaby
Blogroll Me!
Many many years ago, my mother's aunt through marriage had a sister who was in a local Jewish nursing home. At the time, she was rather "out of it" but nonetheless my mother made it a point to visit the woman, and a number of times I joined her for a visit.
This one particular time, I sat in the floor's lounge, waiting because the woman we'd come to see was sleeping. So I sat there and observed the residents. And then I began to write down what I was seeing and hearing, and after I got home, I incorporated what I'd jotted down into a poem. It is called "Lincoln Place Lullaby."
Oy. Where am I?
Vey. Where are you?
Iz. What is this place?
Mir. What’s going on?
What do we do here?
What are we doing here?
Why am I here?
Where are you please, Lydia?
How could they do this to me?
How could they?
Lydia,
I’d like to go down please.
I would like to go home, please, Nurse.
I’m not home.
I don’t belong in here, that’s for sure.
Nobody takes any notice.
I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
Oy. Never.
Vey. Never.
Iz. Never.
Mir. Never.
“Hey, take that damn record off, will ya! It’s skipping.”
Many many years ago, my mother's aunt through marriage had a sister who was in a local Jewish nursing home. At the time, she was rather "out of it" but nonetheless my mother made it a point to visit the woman, and a number of times I joined her for a visit.
This one particular time, I sat in the floor's lounge, waiting because the woman we'd come to see was sleeping. So I sat there and observed the residents. And then I began to write down what I was seeing and hearing, and after I got home, I incorporated what I'd jotted down into a poem. It is called "Lincoln Place Lullaby."
Oy. Where am I?
Vey. Where are you?
Iz. What is this place?
Mir. What’s going on?
What do we do here?
What are we doing here?
Why am I here?
Where are you please, Lydia?
How could they do this to me?
How could they?
Lydia,
I’d like to go down please.
I would like to go home, please, Nurse.
I’m not home.
I don’t belong in here, that’s for sure.
Nobody takes any notice.
I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
Oy. Never.
Vey. Never.
Iz. Never.
Mir. Never.
“Hey, take that damn record off, will ya! It’s skipping.”
Monday, May 30, 2005
Moving On
Blogroll Me!
Regarding some of my posts over the past several months, one might think that I thrive on sadness or tragedy or life's difficult challenges. Such is not the case. I have just always been a thinking, feeling person -- my heart bleeds very easily for people, even people I do not know. My feelings of empathy and compassion are strong and sometimes overshadow my thoughts. But I cannot help that.
It is certainly not as if I grew up in a depressing environment, even while being a child of a survivor. Love and laughter have always prevailed in my parents' home, and certainly now in my own.
But I guess I often stop to smell the roses even if I've cut myself with its thorns...
Do read Glen Holman's personal blog, Moving On. He has words to share with you -- words describing love...loss...and love.
Regarding some of my posts over the past several months, one might think that I thrive on sadness or tragedy or life's difficult challenges. Such is not the case. I have just always been a thinking, feeling person -- my heart bleeds very easily for people, even people I do not know. My feelings of empathy and compassion are strong and sometimes overshadow my thoughts. But I cannot help that.
It is certainly not as if I grew up in a depressing environment, even while being a child of a survivor. Love and laughter have always prevailed in my parents' home, and certainly now in my own.
But I guess I often stop to smell the roses even if I've cut myself with its thorns...
Do read Glen Holman's personal blog, Moving On. He has words to share with you -- words describing love...loss...and love.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
UNITEd We Stand
Blogroll Me!
So today was the Walk for Israel walkathon. I don't know numbers, but let's just say thousands of people gathered at a park at the lakefront where it started, wearing their T-shirts, touting Israeli flags on knapsacks, wagons, carriages, backsides and even on faces. Dignitaries speak at the beginning of the walk, there are inflatable rides and amusements for the kids, the world's largest hora is attempted and the fever is set.
It is a beautiful thing to march in with friends, neighbors -- and countrymen. And what is even nicer is when you have non-Jews who march in solidarity with us, some representing Christian causes, others just feeling pro-Israel and letting the Jews know it.
Many groups and schools and synagogues are represented -- it is really a cross section of the community in this city who come out to this event and help make it what it is. Lubavitcher men approach male participants of bar-mitzvah age to ask them if they'd like to lay Tefillin, Jews for Judasim folks are out, ready to hand out brochures if they meet up to Jews for Jesus missionaries.
I've lived in this city my entire life, so I get to see people who have crossed my path my entire life, whether from day school, high school, university, jobs, shuls, parenting groups -- to share in a commitment is a special thing, and I think we all know it when we're walking across the lower part of the city together for a few hours.
I have fond memories of the "Walks for Israel" that I participated in when I was a young girl -- the route took us through just about the whole city and took an entire day to complete, if we were lucky. So, yes, of course they were longer as well. But whether the route or the mileage differed, the cause has always been the same: raise money for Israel to help nurture this still-growing country and make it the best it can possibly be. In doing so, bring out Jews from the Toronto woodwork who join in a common cause.
Am Yisrael Chai!
So today was the Walk for Israel walkathon. I don't know numbers, but let's just say thousands of people gathered at a park at the lakefront where it started, wearing their T-shirts, touting Israeli flags on knapsacks, wagons, carriages, backsides and even on faces. Dignitaries speak at the beginning of the walk, there are inflatable rides and amusements for the kids, the world's largest hora is attempted and the fever is set.
It is a beautiful thing to march in with friends, neighbors -- and countrymen. And what is even nicer is when you have non-Jews who march in solidarity with us, some representing Christian causes, others just feeling pro-Israel and letting the Jews know it.
Many groups and schools and synagogues are represented -- it is really a cross section of the community in this city who come out to this event and help make it what it is. Lubavitcher men approach male participants of bar-mitzvah age to ask them if they'd like to lay Tefillin, Jews for Judasim folks are out, ready to hand out brochures if they meet up to Jews for Jesus missionaries.
I've lived in this city my entire life, so I get to see people who have crossed my path my entire life, whether from day school, high school, university, jobs, shuls, parenting groups -- to share in a commitment is a special thing, and I think we all know it when we're walking across the lower part of the city together for a few hours.
I have fond memories of the "Walks for Israel" that I participated in when I was a young girl -- the route took us through just about the whole city and took an entire day to complete, if we were lucky. So, yes, of course they were longer as well. But whether the route or the mileage differed, the cause has always been the same: raise money for Israel to help nurture this still-growing country and make it the best it can possibly be. In doing so, bring out Jews from the Toronto woodwork who join in a common cause.
Am Yisrael Chai!
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Holiday Weekend
Blogroll Me!
Hello, Americans. This is a post to you because I think most of my readers are Americans...or ex-Americans living in Toronto!
I hope today was a lovely start to your weekend...your long weekend: Memorial Day.
We Canadians had our weekend last weekend, Victoria Day, complete with fireworks -- some public displays on Sunday night, others on Monday night. But most people don't associate the weekend with anything other than fireworks, bar-be-ques, beer, no work on Monday. They forget the holiday is named for Queen Victoria...our country's "grandmother".
You Americans on the other hand might also associate the weekend with bar-be-ques and beer and no work on Monday -- I don't know if fireworks are lit. But you also make a beautiful point of associating the weekend with memories...of veterans...who helped fight your wars and keep your country free and safe. I don't know if you have fireworks, but I do know that you have local parades, with citizens showing their pride, waving their flags, displaying their patriotism on their sleeve and on their chests with medals and ribbons and the like.
Kerckhoff Coffeehouse's blogging buddy of mine, Doctor Bean, said it beautifully in his post the other day:
In Grateful Memory
I have dozens of work and family obligations to fulfill before this weekend, but it would be wrong to let Memorial Day come without some reflection on its meaning.
I own my home and my own business because of property rights we usually take for granted that do not exist in many countries. I worship as I please, which can not be said in Saudi Arabia or Yemen. My family is safe, which would not be true in much of Africa. I can criticize my government publicly, and frequently do right here in the Coffeehouse, which would be a criminal act in China.
These freedoms are the bedrock of our lives upon which everything else is built. Our families, our individual traditions, our professions and our leisure would all be swept aside in an instant if tyranny replaced liberty.
All these abundant blessings were bought with the lives of American soldiers. On Memorial Day, we stop to realize this; we honor their sacrifice; we offer our heartfelt thanks to the families who grieve for the loss which helped sustain our nation. May we all strive to live in a way that is worthy of such sacrifice.
Here's a concrete way we can show our appreciation. I'm going to ask ball-and-chain to break out a credit card and donate to one of these. Please do the same.
Operation Hero Miles. Donate frequent flier miles to our troops.
Any Soldier. Send a care package to an American soldier in Iraq or Afghanistan.
Operation Gratitude. Send a care package to a U.S. soldier
I applaud you Americans, the vets and the citizens who've stood behind them over the years. You help make your country a colorful one and I tip my hat to you.
Happy Memorial Day!
*********
BTW, you folks had better be celebrating because my reading "stats" were quite low yesterday (today was Shabbos, so that usually lowers the numbers), and I'm guessing they might be the same for the next two days. But don't forget about me; you can read my words (old or new) once you're back at your jobs on Tuesday and need something to do besides WORK, or instead of it. (PsychoToddler, Air Time, Just Passing Through, Still Wonderin', Doctor Bean -- yeah, I'm talking to you.)
And tomorrow is our community-wide annual walk for Israel, a big and very fun to-do with family and friends. Hope the weather cooperates, hope my legs cooperate and hope my kids cooperate. "Right, left, yemin, smol, right left, yemin, smol...!"
Hello, Americans. This is a post to you because I think most of my readers are Americans...or ex-Americans living in Toronto!
I hope today was a lovely start to your weekend...your long weekend: Memorial Day.
We Canadians had our weekend last weekend, Victoria Day, complete with fireworks -- some public displays on Sunday night, others on Monday night. But most people don't associate the weekend with anything other than fireworks, bar-be-ques, beer, no work on Monday. They forget the holiday is named for Queen Victoria...our country's "grandmother".
You Americans on the other hand might also associate the weekend with bar-be-ques and beer and no work on Monday -- I don't know if fireworks are lit. But you also make a beautiful point of associating the weekend with memories...of veterans...who helped fight your wars and keep your country free and safe. I don't know if you have fireworks, but I do know that you have local parades, with citizens showing their pride, waving their flags, displaying their patriotism on their sleeve and on their chests with medals and ribbons and the like.
Kerckhoff Coffeehouse's blogging buddy of mine, Doctor Bean, said it beautifully in his post the other day:
In Grateful Memory
I have dozens of work and family obligations to fulfill before this weekend, but it would be wrong to let Memorial Day come without some reflection on its meaning.
I own my home and my own business because of property rights we usually take for granted that do not exist in many countries. I worship as I please, which can not be said in Saudi Arabia or Yemen. My family is safe, which would not be true in much of Africa. I can criticize my government publicly, and frequently do right here in the Coffeehouse, which would be a criminal act in China.
These freedoms are the bedrock of our lives upon which everything else is built. Our families, our individual traditions, our professions and our leisure would all be swept aside in an instant if tyranny replaced liberty.
All these abundant blessings were bought with the lives of American soldiers. On Memorial Day, we stop to realize this; we honor their sacrifice; we offer our heartfelt thanks to the families who grieve for the loss which helped sustain our nation. May we all strive to live in a way that is worthy of such sacrifice.
Here's a concrete way we can show our appreciation. I'm going to ask ball-and-chain to break out a credit card and donate to one of these. Please do the same.
Operation Hero Miles. Donate frequent flier miles to our troops.
Any Soldier. Send a care package to an American soldier in Iraq or Afghanistan.
Operation Gratitude. Send a care package to a U.S. soldier
I applaud you Americans, the vets and the citizens who've stood behind them over the years. You help make your country a colorful one and I tip my hat to you.
Happy Memorial Day!
*********
BTW, you folks had better be celebrating because my reading "stats" were quite low yesterday (today was Shabbos, so that usually lowers the numbers), and I'm guessing they might be the same for the next two days. But don't forget about me; you can read my words (old or new) once you're back at your jobs on Tuesday and need something to do besides WORK, or instead of it. (PsychoToddler, Air Time, Just Passing Through, Still Wonderin', Doctor Bean -- yeah, I'm talking to you.)
And tomorrow is our community-wide annual walk for Israel, a big and very fun to-do with family and friends. Hope the weather cooperates, hope my legs cooperate and hope my kids cooperate. "Right, left, yemin, smol, right left, yemin, smol...!"
Friday, May 27, 2005
The Latest Hit Parade
Blogroll Me!
K-Tel (R) Records is proud to present this compilation of the hottest hits. Look for some of your favorite songs, reworked just for you!
You Light Up My Blog -- Debby Boone
Whole Lotta Blog -- Led Zeppelin
Mother and Blog Reunion -- Paul Simon
Hard To Blog I'm Sorry -- Chicago
Blog Man -- Sam & Dave version AND The Blues Bros. version
I Blog for You -- Chaka Khan
Blog It -- Devo
Blogger's Delight -- Sugar Hill Gang
Oh, What a Blog! -- Irene Cara
American Blog -- Don McLean
Blog 'Round the Clock -- Bill Haley & the Comets
Blog with You -- Michael Jackson
Rock the Blog -- the Hues Corporation
How Deep Is Your Blog? -- the Bee Gees
The Blog from Ipanema -- Joao Gilberto
and featuring that famous hit Get Off My Blog -- the Rolling Stones.
Run, don't walk to the nearest music store to get this collection. It'll be flying off the shelves before you know it.
K-Tel (R) Records is proud to present this compilation of the hottest hits. Look for some of your favorite songs, reworked just for you!
You Light Up My Blog -- Debby Boone
Whole Lotta Blog -- Led Zeppelin
Mother and Blog Reunion -- Paul Simon
Hard To Blog I'm Sorry -- Chicago
Blog Man -- Sam & Dave version AND The Blues Bros. version
I Blog for You -- Chaka Khan
Blog It -- Devo
Blogger's Delight -- Sugar Hill Gang
Oh, What a Blog! -- Irene Cara
American Blog -- Don McLean
Blog 'Round the Clock -- Bill Haley & the Comets
Blog with You -- Michael Jackson
Rock the Blog -- the Hues Corporation
How Deep Is Your Blog? -- the Bee Gees
The Blog from Ipanema -- Joao Gilberto
and featuring that famous hit Get Off My Blog -- the Rolling Stones.
Run, don't walk to the nearest music store to get this collection. It'll be flying off the shelves before you know it.
What Are You Dangling These Days...?
Blogroll Me!
GOTCHA! (with that title, didn't I?) Nothing perverted here; if that's what you're looking for, link elsewhere!
While driving in to work this a.m. my mind got stuck on the notion of items people have dangling from their car's rearview mirrors.
I've seen fuzzy dice, rosary beads, keychains, garage door openers, "artwork" that children have made, baby shoes, blessings.
I have something hanging that my friend once sent from Israel--no doubt a freebie for her, considered to be a gift for me... It's a heart-shaped laminated card with a Tefillat ha-Derech (The Traveler's Prayer). How do I know it was a freebie, you wonder? Because on the other side of the prayer, there's an advertisement for some product, but I never read the small Hebrew print to learn what the product actually is. But the advertisement, translated from the Hebrew, reads: "Mother, you promised us chicken for this Shabbat!"
How is it that for the Jews everything comes back to FOOD?
"Okay, kids, we're leaving the city limits now. Let's say Tefillat ha-Derech...and then let's break out those chicken sandwiches!"
*******************
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom, and here's hoping you all get to have chicken.
GOTCHA! (with that title, didn't I?) Nothing perverted here; if that's what you're looking for, link elsewhere!
While driving in to work this a.m. my mind got stuck on the notion of items people have dangling from their car's rearview mirrors.
I've seen fuzzy dice, rosary beads, keychains, garage door openers, "artwork" that children have made, baby shoes, blessings.
I have something hanging that my friend once sent from Israel--no doubt a freebie for her, considered to be a gift for me... It's a heart-shaped laminated card with a Tefillat ha-Derech (The Traveler's Prayer). How do I know it was a freebie, you wonder? Because on the other side of the prayer, there's an advertisement for some product, but I never read the small Hebrew print to learn what the product actually is. But the advertisement, translated from the Hebrew, reads: "Mother, you promised us chicken for this Shabbat!"
How is it that for the Jews everything comes back to FOOD?
"Okay, kids, we're leaving the city limits now. Let's say Tefillat ha-Derech...and then let's break out those chicken sandwiches!"
*******************
Wishing you a Shabbat Shalom, and here's hoping you all get to have chicken.
"Gehrls Just Wanna Have Fun"
Blogroll Me!
I am about to talk about my youngest child, a five-year-old; I don't mean to embarrass him, although I am bringing one of his weaknesses to light. But this "weakness" is also a MOST ENDEARING AND SWEET ATTRIBUTE OF HIS, so in my mind I am elevating his sweetness for you.
The other day, when I posted about "A Whole New World," I got a comment from Rochelle who said that her granddaughter, although she lives in Los Angeles, sings the song, pronouncing it as "A Whole New Woild" -- a taste of Brooklyn.
I couldn't help but think of my own little one who cannot pronounce my name properly nor the word "girl." Now "girl" and "Pearl" rhyme with each other, and one would think they're easy to say. But not for him!
For reasons beyond my comprehension, N seems to have a Scottish brogue when he says these words. He rolls his R's, so "girls" becomes more like "gehrls" and "Pearl" becomes "Pehrl." I try to work with him on his pronunciation but at the same time am amused by this quirky stylistic "thing" of his.
What's even more interesting is that lately I've been listening to myself when I speak. And, just like N, who seems to use inflection at the end of every statement, and tags his statement with "Yeah?", I've started to do it. For example, saying, "We're going to finish our homework today, kids...yeah?"
Not too long ago, I'd reached a point in my life when I panicked and thought: "I'm becoming my mother!" These days I'm sort of laughing and thinking: "I'm becoming my five-year-old!"
Yeah, that's right -- this gehrl Pehrl just wants to have fun...
I am about to talk about my youngest child, a five-year-old; I don't mean to embarrass him, although I am bringing one of his weaknesses to light. But this "weakness" is also a MOST ENDEARING AND SWEET ATTRIBUTE OF HIS, so in my mind I am elevating his sweetness for you.
The other day, when I posted about "A Whole New World," I got a comment from Rochelle who said that her granddaughter, although she lives in Los Angeles, sings the song, pronouncing it as "A Whole New Woild" -- a taste of Brooklyn.
I couldn't help but think of my own little one who cannot pronounce my name properly nor the word "girl." Now "girl" and "Pearl" rhyme with each other, and one would think they're easy to say. But not for him!
For reasons beyond my comprehension, N seems to have a Scottish brogue when he says these words. He rolls his R's, so "girls" becomes more like "gehrls" and "Pearl" becomes "Pehrl." I try to work with him on his pronunciation but at the same time am amused by this quirky stylistic "thing" of his.
What's even more interesting is that lately I've been listening to myself when I speak. And, just like N, who seems to use inflection at the end of every statement, and tags his statement with "Yeah?", I've started to do it. For example, saying, "We're going to finish our homework today, kids...yeah?"
Not too long ago, I'd reached a point in my life when I panicked and thought: "I'm becoming my mother!" These days I'm sort of laughing and thinking: "I'm becoming my five-year-old!"
Yeah, that's right -- this gehrl Pehrl just wants to have fun...
Thursday, May 26, 2005
nbc.com
Blogroll Me!
Hey, someone over at nbc.com linked to my "Bloggers Anonymous Wannabe" post a short while ago, referred to by jrants.com.
Hey, who are you, nbc.com? I have a show I'd like to pitch to you. It's a show about a blog. But in reality it's about NOTHING. "Yeah, a show about nothing. It can work. We'll make it work!"
So, someone over at nbc.com, who linked to my site, when can we set up a meeting? Have your people call my people. Better yet, have your people send a comment to my blog!
Hey, someone over at nbc.com linked to my "Bloggers Anonymous Wannabe" post a short while ago, referred to by jrants.com.
Hey, who are you, nbc.com? I have a show I'd like to pitch to you. It's a show about a blog. But in reality it's about NOTHING. "Yeah, a show about nothing. It can work. We'll make it work!"
So, someone over at nbc.com, who linked to my site, when can we set up a meeting? Have your people call my people. Better yet, have your people send a comment to my blog!
Bloggers Anonymous Wannabe
Blogroll Me!
Fellow blogger Neil Fleischmann, of NY's Funniest Rabbi fame (see link in margin) posted this wonderful scenario.
I hate to admit it, but I'm supposed to be at that meeting...right now, at 12:55 a.m.
Care to join me at Bloggers Anonymous?
"Hello my name is {YOUR NAME HERE} and I'm a blogger."
All: "Hi, {YOUR NAME HERE}
"I started out slowly. Someone told me I'd like it so I got a blogspot blog. It was free. I figured why not. I posted...I thought that was it. But a few days later I went back. Then I went back the next day. Before I knew it I was posting several times a day. Then I got my first comment. I'll never forget the rush...I was hooked. I started checking regularly for comments. Commenting on other blogs... hoping they'd visit mine. Then I stopped leaving the house because I needed to blog. Then I started skipping meals...staying up all night. Then a friend told me about these meetings. At first I said I could stop whenever I wanted, that some people had blog addictions but not me. Then they turned my electricity off because I didn't pay because all I was doing was the blog. The blog became a blob... taking over my life. So I joined a friend for a meeting, just to see, not because I was ready to admit my problem. And I couldn't believe the similar stories I read. People from far away... Texas and Toronto... with stories that sounded so much like mine. Computers needed fixing, books needed editing, students needed to be taught, but they all fell to the wayside because of THE BLOG. But then I saw people getting better... through the meetings. We will always be bloggers. But there is a force bigger than ourselves, even bigger than technical support. We must give ourselves over to the program. If you're in this chat room for the first time know... there is hope. Thank you.
~ copyrighted by Rabbi Neil Fleischmann 2005 ~
Fellow blogger Neil Fleischmann, of NY's Funniest Rabbi fame (see link in margin) posted this wonderful scenario.
I hate to admit it, but I'm supposed to be at that meeting...right now, at 12:55 a.m.
Care to join me at Bloggers Anonymous?
"Hello my name is {YOUR NAME HERE} and I'm a blogger."
All: "Hi, {YOUR NAME HERE}
"I started out slowly. Someone told me I'd like it so I got a blogspot blog. It was free. I figured why not. I posted...I thought that was it. But a few days later I went back. Then I went back the next day. Before I knew it I was posting several times a day. Then I got my first comment. I'll never forget the rush...I was hooked. I started checking regularly for comments. Commenting on other blogs... hoping they'd visit mine. Then I stopped leaving the house because I needed to blog. Then I started skipping meals...staying up all night. Then a friend told me about these meetings. At first I said I could stop whenever I wanted, that some people had blog addictions but not me. Then they turned my electricity off because I didn't pay because all I was doing was the blog. The blog became a blob... taking over my life. So I joined a friend for a meeting, just to see, not because I was ready to admit my problem. And I couldn't believe the similar stories I read. People from far away... Texas and Toronto... with stories that sounded so much like mine. Computers needed fixing, books needed editing, students needed to be taught, but they all fell to the wayside because of THE BLOG. But then I saw people getting better... through the meetings. We will always be bloggers. But there is a force bigger than ourselves, even bigger than technical support. We must give ourselves over to the program. If you're in this chat room for the first time know... there is hope. Thank you.
~ copyrighted by Rabbi Neil Fleischmann 2005 ~
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
It All Comes Out in the...Comments
Blogroll Me!
When I feel that I need to laugh in the middle of the day, I just click on some of my favorite blogs. Some of these bloggers have me bursting out in laughter or silently grinning from ear to ear behind the walls of my work cubby -- oops, I mean office.
There are dynamics at work amongst these bloggers that work wonderfully together.
Do check out the blogs and comments of Treppenwitz, Jack's Shack, PsychoToddler and Doctor Bean and his gang. You will see overlaps throughout these comments and the same familiar names popping up on all of them. One would think that these folks have been pals forever, but that is not the case (except for Doctor Bean and some of his "pallies" -- and wife); they are strangers in a strange land, and have become stranger for the experience. But they're most amusing and it's a breath of fresh air.
Another set of bloggers who are newer to the scene and to my list of faves work equally well in unison/tandem. They are Air Time, Still Wonderin', Just Passin' Through and sometimes OrthoMom. Some of these folks know each other, others pretend to know each other, but they all make beautiful comments together.
Do check out these people for your cheap entertainment.
One of these days, you might even notice me commenting on a blog near you. Just ask around; my puns are better than yours. Na, na, na, na, na, na!
When I feel that I need to laugh in the middle of the day, I just click on some of my favorite blogs. Some of these bloggers have me bursting out in laughter or silently grinning from ear to ear behind the walls of my work cubby -- oops, I mean office.
There are dynamics at work amongst these bloggers that work wonderfully together.
Do check out the blogs and comments of Treppenwitz, Jack's Shack, PsychoToddler and Doctor Bean and his gang. You will see overlaps throughout these comments and the same familiar names popping up on all of them. One would think that these folks have been pals forever, but that is not the case (except for Doctor Bean and some of his "pallies" -- and wife); they are strangers in a strange land, and have become stranger for the experience. But they're most amusing and it's a breath of fresh air.
Another set of bloggers who are newer to the scene and to my list of faves work equally well in unison/tandem. They are Air Time, Still Wonderin', Just Passin' Through and sometimes OrthoMom. Some of these folks know each other, others pretend to know each other, but they all make beautiful comments together.
Do check out these people for your cheap entertainment.
One of these days, you might even notice me commenting on a blog near you. Just ask around; my puns are better than yours. Na, na, na, na, na, na!
All Roads Lead to Here
Blogroll Me!
People, I'm brainstorming and I need help. I want to find alternatives for naming streets. So far I've come up with Place, Street, Avenue, Road, Boulevard, Crescent, Court, Gate, Way, Gardens, Circle, Lane.
Do you have any other suggestions? Think of where you live -- anything different to what I mentioned above?
People, I'm brainstorming and I need help. I want to find alternatives for naming streets. So far I've come up with Place, Street, Avenue, Road, Boulevard, Crescent, Court, Gate, Way, Gardens, Circle, Lane.
Do you have any other suggestions? Think of where you live -- anything different to what I mentioned above?
Guard Your Tongue
Blogroll Me!
I've talked about "lashon harah" before in my posts and how my parents tried to drill it in us to not speak ill of someone and to watch what we say and how we say it.
This morning, I got the following mailing from www.aish.com. It is a pearl of wisdom that is not my own, but one I wish to share with you.
Their tongue is like a sharp arrow (Jeremiah 9:7).
Some people would never physically injure another person. The sight or even the thought of violence makes them cringe. They may not realize that their words can cause more damage than their fists ever could. A physical injury eventually heals and may even be forgotten, but an insulting word can penetrate to the depths of someone's being and continue to reverberate, long after a mere physical wound would have healed.
I have seen this phenomenon in my own practice. Many children are spanked by their parents. Still, with the exception of cases of severe abuse, my patients rarely, if ever, mention the spanking as a trauma. Not so with degrading words. After thirty or more years, patients will remember having been called "stupid," "rotten," or "a no-good bum." A child who was not spanked, but was instead disciplined with shame and made to feel that he or she was a disgrace, is likely to retain that feeling for decades and may harbor an attitude of shame that affects everything that he or she does.
While we are taught to refrain from striking out in anger, we are far less restrained when it comes to verbal lashings. Whether we direct them towards spouses, children, or peers, we should be aware of the impact that words can have. The verse cited above correctly describes the tongue as a sharp, penetrating arrow, which can be every bit as lethal as any physical weapon.
Some people have a wise custom. When they become angry, they clamp their lips tightly. The anger will safely dissipate and the words which could have stung for years never come out.
Today I shall ...
... try to avoid words that may be injurious to another person.
I've talked about "lashon harah" before in my posts and how my parents tried to drill it in us to not speak ill of someone and to watch what we say and how we say it.
This morning, I got the following mailing from www.aish.com. It is a pearl of wisdom that is not my own, but one I wish to share with you.
Their tongue is like a sharp arrow (Jeremiah 9:7).
Some people would never physically injure another person. The sight or even the thought of violence makes them cringe. They may not realize that their words can cause more damage than their fists ever could. A physical injury eventually heals and may even be forgotten, but an insulting word can penetrate to the depths of someone's being and continue to reverberate, long after a mere physical wound would have healed.
I have seen this phenomenon in my own practice. Many children are spanked by their parents. Still, with the exception of cases of severe abuse, my patients rarely, if ever, mention the spanking as a trauma. Not so with degrading words. After thirty or more years, patients will remember having been called "stupid," "rotten," or "a no-good bum." A child who was not spanked, but was instead disciplined with shame and made to feel that he or she was a disgrace, is likely to retain that feeling for decades and may harbor an attitude of shame that affects everything that he or she does.
While we are taught to refrain from striking out in anger, we are far less restrained when it comes to verbal lashings. Whether we direct them towards spouses, children, or peers, we should be aware of the impact that words can have. The verse cited above correctly describes the tongue as a sharp, penetrating arrow, which can be every bit as lethal as any physical weapon.
Some people have a wise custom. When they become angry, they clamp their lips tightly. The anger will safely dissipate and the words which could have stung for years never come out.
Today I shall ...
... try to avoid words that may be injurious to another person.
The Ultimate Dinner Party -- Revisited
Blogroll Me!
I'm not desperate for posts, but I was just reviewing some earlier ones and came across this one from March. It received no comments then. Perhaps today I have some different readers, who are in a different frame of mind, who might want to respond to the call-out...
Back in March this is what I wrote:
If you could host an intimate dinner party with 3-5 others, people from the worlds of music, politics, entertainment, history, etc., and it could be people living or now deceased, who would sit at your table, and what would you serve?
I'm not sure about menus, but I'd love to have one dinner party that hosted Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Jerry Seinfeld. I'm not sure that I'd have to serve anything in fact, because I'd be too busy laughing to eat, and those guys would be too busy keeping me in stitches to care enough about eating. And Jerry? Jerry would talk about NOTHING...but that would be something.
And then I'd like to have a literary dinner party, surrounded by Elie Wiesel, Sholom Aleichem, Anne Frank and perhaps author Judy Blume. Some heady conversations, some personal recollections and some sadness would permeate the room.
And one night I'd like to host a musical-inspired dinner party with Chopin, Ella and Louis and Isaac Stern. What kind of dinner music they would provide, huh? Better make sure the piano is tuned, the violin strings are tightened and water bottles and hankies are available for the vocalists.
So, you fellow bloggers, how about sharing plans for your ultimate dinner party?
*****************
And in the next post, this is what I wrote:
Well, this evening I figured that if I threw this post's scenario/question out to a bunch of strangers, why not pose it to my family!?
My 7 1/2 year old daughter wants to entertain celebrity teens-of-the-hour Lindsay Lohan, Hilary Duff, Raven, and...get this, ALBERT EINSTEIN. She specified that she'd serve Albert "brain food", ie. sushi.
My 5 year old son wants to entertain Spiderman and several other characters from Game Cube games.
My 9 1/2 year old son wants to...just entertain us, it appears, with his dry wit and his sharp observations.
My 40-something-year-old husband wants to host Shammai and Hillel. I told him that guests like these would have to sit at opposite ends of the dinner table because they'd be in disagreement all the time. I guess hubby would have to be the buffer, the deciding factor in the "discussion/debates."
And if any of you would like to come to a bloggers' dinner party at our home, we could arrange that too...!
I'm not desperate for posts, but I was just reviewing some earlier ones and came across this one from March. It received no comments then. Perhaps today I have some different readers, who are in a different frame of mind, who might want to respond to the call-out...
Back in March this is what I wrote:
If you could host an intimate dinner party with 3-5 others, people from the worlds of music, politics, entertainment, history, etc., and it could be people living or now deceased, who would sit at your table, and what would you serve?
I'm not sure about menus, but I'd love to have one dinner party that hosted Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Jerry Seinfeld. I'm not sure that I'd have to serve anything in fact, because I'd be too busy laughing to eat, and those guys would be too busy keeping me in stitches to care enough about eating. And Jerry? Jerry would talk about NOTHING...but that would be something.
And then I'd like to have a literary dinner party, surrounded by Elie Wiesel, Sholom Aleichem, Anne Frank and perhaps author Judy Blume. Some heady conversations, some personal recollections and some sadness would permeate the room.
And one night I'd like to host a musical-inspired dinner party with Chopin, Ella and Louis and Isaac Stern. What kind of dinner music they would provide, huh? Better make sure the piano is tuned, the violin strings are tightened and water bottles and hankies are available for the vocalists.
So, you fellow bloggers, how about sharing plans for your ultimate dinner party?
*****************
And in the next post, this is what I wrote:
Well, this evening I figured that if I threw this post's scenario/question out to a bunch of strangers, why not pose it to my family!?
My 7 1/2 year old daughter wants to entertain celebrity teens-of-the-hour Lindsay Lohan, Hilary Duff, Raven, and...get this, ALBERT EINSTEIN. She specified that she'd serve Albert "brain food", ie. sushi.
My 5 year old son wants to entertain Spiderman and several other characters from Game Cube games.
My 9 1/2 year old son wants to...just entertain us, it appears, with his dry wit and his sharp observations.
My 40-something-year-old husband wants to host Shammai and Hillel. I told him that guests like these would have to sit at opposite ends of the dinner table because they'd be in disagreement all the time. I guess hubby would have to be the buffer, the deciding factor in the "discussion/debates."
And if any of you would like to come to a bloggers' dinner party at our home, we could arrange that too...!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)