Biting Off MoreThan I Can Chew

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As little Ms. Britney Spears would sing, "Oops I did it again..." I bit off perhaps more than I can chew.

How many times have you done that -- offered your services or your home or a kind shoulder for someone to cry on and then realized "Akkk, what have I gotten myself into! I thought this was going to be easy, but it ain't. Why did I go and have to open my big mouth?

I'm pretty guilty of often biting off more than I can chew. I'm a rather generous person, which isn't a bad thing necessarily, but once I open my mouth and make an offer or a suggestion, I can't really take it back. I'm locked into servitude. As one of The Three Stooges always said to another (after maybe also slapping him on the back of the head) "Aw... Now what did you have to go and do something like that for...?"

When I realize that I've taken on more than I can handle, I move from generous mode to high-alert, panicky mode. That might happen with freelance manuscripts I take on, with articles I choose to write, with offers to host parties -- you name it, I've panicked over it!

But surprisingly enough, I manage to overcome. I do not want to appear to have failed in my mission, so I sometimes seem to overcompensate to get through it. Whether that means working extra hours and not charging a client for them, whether that means gritting my teeth and pushing myself the extra mile, or whether that means realizing that I will do my best, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's the best.

I often have brilliant but quirky ideas that I'd like to see put into action. Once I verbalize them, they can get thrown back into my face and I'm told to take the first step. That being the case, I now have to get to my parents' house, peruse the photo albums, find a photo of me circa age 10, track down a scanner...and post that pic on my blog or send it elsewhere.


You know, it would be kinda neat to have your readers post their photos from circa age 10 on their blogs, as well. Something different, but eye opening.
Or you have readers submit their photos, you mix them up, supply names and have readers guess "who's who"...but then again, there goes our anonymity out the window.
Posted by: Pearl at January 10, 2006 06:11 PM

Pearl:
Okay. Great idea.
You first.
Who's next? Cruisin Mom? Lance? Jake? Oh Jake, Your pic with Ten Reasons Why You Should Not Have Posted the Picture.
Posted by: Robert J. Avrech at January 10, 2006 07:02 PM

And when I've accomplished my "mission," here's hoping you'll be smiling and saying, "Here's looking at you, kid..."

JIBs Are Just Instant Badges

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Yeah, yeah, everyone's been on the campaign trail for the past couple of weeks, reminding people to nominate Jewish/Israeli blogs and now reminding people to vote.

One of my blogging friends was kind enough to nominate me, warning me he would. I was most flattered. A year ago I was a novice at this thing called blogging, and suddenly I was in the running for a title of Best Personal Blog.

But I realized that's all it was -- a nomination for a title. I do not feel that I needed to post the JIBs nominee banner on my blog -- you want to read me, you'll read me. You don't want to read me, you won't. A banner won't make the difference. A campaign post won't make the difference.

If I haven't already left some kind of indelible mark on you out there with my words, with my attempt at humor, with my attempt at creativity, with my giving you a peek at my world, no JIB banner, nor even a winning title will do it.

Yes, I mosied over to the awards site today to vote. No, I absolutely did not vote for myself; I never intended to. Instead, I voted for the personal blogs that have moved me--with their attempts at humor, at creativity, giving us a precious peek at their world. They have managed to make an indelible mark on me with their words.

We are all winners without these banners or badges. We sit at our computers each day or every few days and post our lives onto the World Wide Web -- we find something genuine in ourselves to share. Blogging is really about giving, sharing, enlightening...and about responding, understanding, relating.

It's not about whether you've been nominated for an award, or whether you win one. Just think about countless actors, actresses, directors who've done stellar work but never even made the nominations for Academy Awards. Do you stop paying money to watch them perform in movies, or do you turn the TV channel when one of their early movies is on the air? No! Why? Because regardless that they're not award winners, they're still winners in your eyes.

That's all that counts.

Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

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Would all you parents out there of young or grown children please explain something to me: Why is it that our best sleep of the night is usually when we're putting our young'uns to bed, they ask us to lay on their bed, we say, "Okay, for a couple of minutes" -- and the next thing you know our spouse is gently rousing us with "Come to bed. It's 11:30."

"What?? But it was just 8:30..."

I've spoken to several parents who are familiar with this scenario. Kids want a book read to them to help them fall asleep; we fall asleep while reading the book (kid stays awake!). Kid wants you to make up a story to tell them; you like the story so much, you just keep on tickin'...and so does the kid.

When my oldest child had me lying on his bed as he settled in, I would fight Mr. Sandman, but he'd get me just about every time.

Middle child and I lie in bed and listen to classical music to lull her--and sometimes me--to sleep.

Youngest child always wants me to tell him a story -- we seem to go through the alphabet with an animal theme, eg. Alvin the Alligator, Benjy the Bear, Chris the Cobra... It isn't always easy to make up a story as I go, but it's rewarding as I generally try to lend the story a moral. And it's also rewarding when I've sometimes retold stories over and over and continue to get my child/children's interest with these made-up tales, enough that I've tried to put these stories down on paper as children's picture book manuscripts. Granted, I have yet to do something with these stories for children other than my own!

Nightime rituals can lend themselves to a kind of inner peace, both for the child and his/her parent. We are always seeking inner peace, aren't we? So I guess you won't mind if I end my post here and go lie down with child #2.....

Songs They Should've Sung

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1. Mary Poppins should've sung R. Kelly's "I Believe I Can Fly...I Believe I Can Touch the Sky."

2. Tevye should've sung "Up on the Roof" by James Taylor

3. Henry Fonda & Lucille Ball in "Yours, Mine & Ours" should've sung "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge

4. Phileas Fogg in "Around the World in Eighty Days" should've sung "Up, Up & Away" (in My Beautiful Balloon) by the Fifth Dimension

Okay, I've run out of ideas here, this late at night/this early in the morning.

I'm guessing you've caught my drift here; maybe you have some suggestions for "Songs They Should've Sung"...

Everyday People

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"...He stepped into my life -- or perhaps I stepped into his -- even if briefly, and left a lasting impression on me."

My last post about Canadian poet Irving Layton featured this line. And after rereading it, I decided that I liked it -- a lot! It seems to encapsulate the people who move in and out of our lives.

When we're kids we just want to have fun -- we don't try too hard to make friends; usually they just happen. You go to the same school, you go to the same shul, you share extra-curricular activities, or you might even be relatives. But something clicks and you play together, and as you're older, you hang out together.

I was at shul today and saw a former friend and classmate of mine. We drifted apart many many years ago, so it's not uncomfortable to see and speak to her. Granted, we don't have too much in common anymore, no common denominator or point of reference that's current. I asked her if she and her husband are in touch with anyone from high school. She quickly responded with "Nope...I guess what we thought were true friends were really not."

I've been thinking about that comment and applying it to myself and my circle of friends. It's a beautiful thing if you have a lifelong friend or even friends who sees you from childhood through to adulthood and even seniorhood; it's probably even more beautiful because it can be somewhat rare.

Yes, I have one friend who I've known since I was five years old -- our first encounter was us sitting on her back steps and blowing soap bubbles together. That was almost forty years ago. She's my oldest friend, but I can't say she's my closest friend. More often than not, we did a "surface dance" around each other, just skimming the surface of friendship, but not getting in too deep with our true, heartfelt thoughts and emotions. And that's been okay, because it seems to be a mutual understanding of how this friendship has been meant to be.

Sometimes we are so close to people, think we have sooooo much in common for sooooo many years and then the link is broken. We might be peeved, we might be confused, we might feel guilty about this breach. But we must remember that yes, we did have good times with that friend...while it lasted. We did grow as people and perhaps helped each other grow as well.

Man/woman cannot really live alone. It's not a way to thrive as a person. So for that reason, people step in and out of our lives. Sometimes they step in at just the right moment when we need a kind of person like that around us. This is a form of "bashert," I guess. A destiny.

For some reason, we are destined to have our paths cross with one another at a particular time. Hopefully the reason turns out to be a good one. Friendships do not have to be formed; a minimal alliance might be all it is (eg. information from a librarian, a customer service representative, a teacher, a rabbi or even a dentists).

Perhaps some of my blogging buddies might feel the same. Our blogging paths have crossed for some reason or another. There are hundreds of blogs out there -- why do I choose to read yours? Why do you choose to read mine? Why do we sometimes write a note or two to each other offline?

I hope that, as I said in my opening lines, certain people leave lasting impressions on you as you step in and out, as you dance in and out, of each others' lives.

(and on a less serious note, here I have to add this: Jack & Stacey: nobody in blogville knows what your mysterious connection is, but no doubt, Jack, Stacey left some impression on you...as you continually refer to her in your posts.)

Rest in Peace, "Oiving"

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I found out this afternoon that Canadian poet Irving Layton passed away yesterday at the age of 93 in Montreal. For the past number of years, he was suffering from Alzheimer's and living at the Maimonides Jewish Home.
Irving was a character, if ever there was one. He made friends -- Leonard Cohen; and he made enemies. He wrote poetry about life and sexuality, love and family, Judaism and God. Anyone who hovered on the literary threshold in this country knew the name Irving Layton.
I had the privilege to meet him and talk with him several times. He was writer-in-residence at the University of Toronto when I was a student, and I had a private session in which he assessed my poetry and other writing; I went to public readings of his; I even corresponded with his last wife on a couple of occasions. He stepped into my life -- or perhaps I stepped into his -- even if briefly, and left a lasting impression on me.
I wrote a slew of Irving-inspired poems back in the early to mid 1980s, and was fortunate to have one published a few years ago in Parchment ("For Irving Layton #2"), a Canadian Jewish literary journal.
He will be missed by countless students, countless critics and countless kindred spirits.
Irving Layton, rest in peace.
For Irving Layton #1

We are graced
by
the old man’s presence.

His eyes –
they gleam
frenetically.

His brow –
it furrows
and twitches
constantly.

His hair –
white and
filigreed with
highlights of silver –
a dishevelled mass.

His voice –
clear, loud,
letting the words
string along
and flow from
his mouth
in a perpetual manner.

This man –
a shell
and a soul.
Indeed a fusion of
myth and reality.

It is to this person
that we look longingly
for a spark of
truth, knowledge and faith.
And it is he who
grants it to us –
via his words
of wisdom.

The old man –
a diviner in disguise.

For Irving Layton # 2


You speak to me of resonance
claiming that’s what my poetry lacks.
I sit there before you
and nod dumbly.

You speak to me of imagery
claiming that’s what my poetry emits.
I sit there before you
and smile weakly.

But then. . .
You speak to me of style
claiming that my poetry only manages
to denote what you consider to be
“a slice of life.”

You argue that it is not enough
to take events and throw them onto paper.
You tell me that I must blend
and shape them.
I sit there before you
and sulk quietly.

You speak to me of merit
claiming that’s what my gift
of a poem to you has.
I sit there before you
and laugh hysterically.

“What a liar!”

I get up and leave the room.

"...and I Can't Get It Out of My Head..."

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Ah...music. You gotta love or you hate it. Sometimes you can't wait to hear a song; other times you can't wait for the music to stop.

Since I was a young girl, I've had one song play over and over and OVER AND OVER in my head. I can't seem to shake it, yet I don't really like it either.

Won't someone "please release me" from this song?

Brand-New Key by Melanie

I rode my bicycle past your window last night
I roller skated to your door at daylight
It almost seems like you're avoiding me
I'm okay alone, but you got something I need

Well, I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together and try them out you see
I been looking around awhile
You got something for me
Oh! I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key

I ride my bike, I roller skate, don't drive no car
Don't go too fast, but I go pretty far
For somebody who don't drive
I been all around the world
Some people say, I done all right for a girl

Well, I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together and try them out you see
I been looking around awhile
You got something for me
Oh! I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key

I asked your mother if you were at home
She said, yes .. but you weren't alone
Oh, sometimes I think that you're avoiding me
I'm okay alone, but you've got something I need

Well, I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key
I think that we should get together and try them out to see
La la la la la la la la, la la la la la la
Oh! I got a brand new pair of roller skates
You got a brand new key

Okay, so this song was resurrected for the Boogie Nights soundtrack, but that's not how it stuck in my head. From its earliest days of airplay on AM radio, I was ensnared.

Are there any songs that won't truly leave you?

Bonus points if you know where the post's title derives from, as well as the "please release me" in the third paragrah.

Hey, if I'm lucky, maybe this post will stick "Brand New Key" in your head too, and we'll be in the same boat from now until forever!

FOURplay

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Thank you, Air Time, 4 tagging me 4 the "4 Meme"!

So without further delay, let's go 4ward and see
what I can come up with.

And just 4 the record, I'm 44!

Four jobs I've had in my life: Copy editor; proofreader; administrative assistant in a Jewish day school; drama/music specialist (summer camp).

Four movies I could watch over and over: Fiddler on the Roof; any and all Marx Bros. films; any and all Three Stooges films; Mary Poppins

Four places I've lived - Toronto; Israel 4 six months; Toronto; Toronto

Four TV Shows I love to watch - I really don't watch TV anymore, (not for religious reasons, but for blogging reasons!) but I used to love to watch: Will & Grace; Seinfeld; Whose Line Is It Anyway?; The Price Is Right

Four places I've been on vacation - Switzerland; Israel; Florida; Mexico

Four websites I visit daily - Seraphic Secret; Cruisin-mom; A Simple Jew; Citizen of the Month

Four of my favorite foods - pasta; feta cheese; Caesar salad; pineapple

Four places I'd rather be - sitting in front of a roaring fire in a cottage in the woods; sitting on the dock of a bay with my feet dangling in the cool lake water; visiting a zoo; hanging out with my husband and kids at a neighborhood park

Four books I'll read over and over again - Night by Elie Wiesel; The Book of Ariel; I Love You, StinkyFace; my journals

This is as far as the original meme went, but I'm inclined to add a few categories.

Four things I'm fairly good at doing - writing; singing; being a friend; seeing both sides

Four things that I could improve on - patience; organizational skills; knowledge of politics and current events; time I devote to sleeping

Four songs that have some significance for me - "A Whole New World" (theme song from "Aladdin"); "It Had To Be You"; "Hello Dolly"; "Maoz Tsur"

Four people I will tag with this meme (if they want to do it -- no pressure) - Randi; Rabbi Neil Fleischmann; MCAryeh; Elie

The Shrill of the Moment

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Call me placid, call me a peacekeeper, call me a true Libran who likes balance and harmony. As I've mentioned before, I do not like to make waves, I do not like to be argumentative or confrontational. I like to discuss, but sometimes discussions just go by the wayside and I REACT instead.

From the time our children are about two and a half, we continually tell them, "Use your words." That is another way of saying, "Don't hit/pinch/shove/pull/slap." or "Don't whine/stomp your feet/have a major meltdown."

Well, I haven't been two and a half for many many years, so you'd think that I'd have learned something by now. But ever so often, I just LOSE IT! Today was one of those days. I REACTED.

Frustration and fear were the key behind my unbelievable, award-winning performance. Unfortunately, my children were the other players in this scene. Why was I frustrated and fearful you might ask? My husband had left this a.m., forgetting his cell phone (I didn't realize this for at least 2 hours), people were trying to reach him at the place where he was supposed to be and he wasn't picking up his cell and he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Had he gotten in an accident? Had he made a stop somewhere and been held up at knifepoint? Had we just spent our last Chanukah together? My mind was running off countless horrible possibilities as to what might have happened to him, and I wondered how long do I wait until I have to report a missing person. I was extremely agitated, especially since I didn't understand why he wasn't at least answering his cell phone. I was the worrier, as was his mother, which is the place he was supposed to be.

At some point, my kids and a friend of theirs were just getting antsy and my youngest REACTED to my middle child, had hurt her and she was bawling. Unfortunately, I just thought it was my oldest who'd made my daughter cry and I just started shrieking and shrilling at him. I clearly lost it at that moment and I could hear myself, my tone, my volume of voice. I knew that my emotions of fear and worry for my husband had just spilled out onto this juvenile audience. I was deeply ashamed, and sat my children down and their friend and soulfully apologized and explained about REACTING, rather than simply verbalizing.

When my husband finally called two hours after he'd left the house, I tried to curb my REACTING mode and made sure to ask if he was okay and if anything had happened. No, he'd simply erred when he realized he didn't have his phone with him, he'd made a stop and didn't realize how long it would take and he admitted he should have stopped at a pay phone to call both his mother and me. Of course he apologized profusely for putting me through unnecessary worry and envisioning of worst-case scenarios.

It truly took me several hours to have relief and calm ebb through my body. I had been so wound up with that tension, and I was so upset with myself for having displayed such despicable behavior towards my children, and truthfully, I was a touch scared that I had the capacity to react in such a manner.

And let me tell you...the shrill of the moment was certainly not a thrill of the moment.

Touched by an Angel

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I had a knock on the door this afternoon. I answered it, expecting the person on the other side of the door would be a friend who was coming to reclaim a scarf left behind last night after our Chanukah/New Year's gathering.

It was not that friend. It was a teacher from my children's school--a former teacher and well-liked one of my older two children--coming to return two books I'd lent her a few months ago.

I am generally leery to lend out favorite books, especially because I've sometimes had them returned to me not in the same condition as they were given out; sometimes they haven't been returned even. But I made a conscious decision to break my own rule and pass along these books. I knew that this teacher was an avid reader; I knew that she had an appreciation for fine writing; and I knew that perhaps she could learn something from these books to share with her students.

I had lent her my personalized copy of THE HEBREW KID AND THE APACHE MAIDEN, as well as THE BOOK OF ARIEL. Over the few months that the teacher had these copies in her possession, at times I'd wanted to reach for them on a Shabbat afternoon and peruse through them -- and they weren't in my armoire. Other times I'd talk to guests about how I came to blog, what blogs I read, the friends I'd made, the resulting trip I'd taken to L.A. in June -- and wanted to show these books to the friends. Then I remembered I didn't have them in my possession currently.

So to say I was relieved to answer the door and find the teacher, reaching out to give back my books is the truth. But I was more than relieved when I asked her if she'd gotten through the two of them and she answered something like, "Oh, yes. They were both so wonderful.... Did you listen to the CD? I kept playing the CD (A SONG FOR ARIEL) over and over and over while reading the pages of THE BOOK OF ARIEL and tears would run down my cheeks. So moved was I... An incredible book, an incredible person..."

Dare I repeat what I and countless others have said over time: a person does not have to have known Ariel Chaim Avrech personally to claim, "I've been touched by an angel."

The Best Is Yet To Come

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So many bloggers review their posts from days gone by, sometimes shtupping them in our faces to remind us -- of what...? To read them? To convince us they're worthy of being reread and remembered? To comment on them now 'cause we didn't do so the first time around?

In spite of sometimes being in a snarky mood after I read a post that has an "in-your-face" reminder attitude, I thought I might do a recap for you of what I thought were some of my best posts from the past year. I was going to peruse my posts month by month and pick just one that meant something special to me...for a total of twelve posts.

And then I thought "NO!"

"Why not?" you might ask.

"'Cause I believe the best is yet to come...and it'll only need me once to tell you to read it. It'll be your choice to read it again and again, and seek it out again months later on your own."

(one can always hope, can't they...?)

And Now...for a Look Back at 2005

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...and that's the way it was -- for 2005.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Blessing on Her Head (Mazel Tov, Mazel Tov...)

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(A twist on the more-famous version from Fiddler on the Roof)

"A blessing on her head
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
My friend's daughter is to be wed
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
She just got herself engaged
Among friends that's all the rage
To become a Mr. and Mrs.

"The chattan's really nice
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
So the kallah's parents don't think twice
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
They're pleased she'll be his wife
And together they'll start a life
As Mr. and Mrs.

"The kallah's really sweet
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
As a daughter-in-law she'll be a treat
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
It's very clear to see
These two are meant to be
As Mr. and Mrs.

"The chupah's fairly soon
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
Followed by a honeymoon...
(mazel tov, mazel tov)
Just simchas should abound
When happiness is found
As Mr. and Mrs."

*********************************

Mazel tov to both families. The wedding should be b'shaah tovah u'mutzlechet.

Bli Neder*

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* Without a vow. (Hebrew)

This is what people say when they make promises: "I will cut back on my blogging and will be more conscious of using my free time more wisely...bli neder." This is telling you that I will try my utmost (should no conflicting circumstances arise) to mean what I say and fulfill my promise.

I don't like to make promises as a rule just because I'm afraid that sometimes I'll be thrown a curve ball, and incidents beyond my control will prevent me from following through on the promise. I don't like to be deemed a liar and I also hate to disappoint people.

So generally I say, "I'll try to..." or to my children I won't give a definite answer sometimes, but will respond with "We'll see" or "I hope we can..."

I did make a promise once to cousins that I would take them to the zoo. I never forgot that promise and it slowly ate away at me, feeding off my guilt. Okay, so it turned out that fulfilling that promise took about 10 years, but at least I honored my word!

Now, as I look back on 2005 and think about my resolutions that I put down on my computer screen for all the world to see, I think, "Damn, I should've added 'bli neder' to every resolution!"

Let's review:

First there were health club issues, ie. I'd joined one in the fall of 2004 and by New Year's had only gone less than a dozen times. My goal was to make it part of my daily regimen. I FAILED!!!

* Follow through with what I set forth in motion, ie. querying publishers about picture-book manuscripts or poetry that I have written, requesting they view my work. I have been given the green light from several, but have not taken that next step. I should. Did I do this? Nah... I never followed up with those publishers who gave me a green light, nor did I pursue any other publishers.

* Keep writing personal essays, poetry, children's books. I should not just list the titles and ideas I have for creative pieces, but should actually breathe live into these projects. Um, yes, I wrote a few poems. My personal essays are my daily posts. And the ideas for creative pieces are still scribbled on small snippets of paper and scattered here at home or at work amidst my other work.

* Make time for me. The only time "for me" I honored was my computer time...and there was a lot of that!

* Make more time for my husband and children...and parents and siblings and their families. I wish I could say that I did that, but I didn't really. I didn't make more time, nor did I have more free time coming to me. In fact, there was less time, what with this blogging obsession of mine.

* Enjoy each moment to the best of my ability because time is fleeting. Okay, I've done well enough with this, while sometimes I even had to pretend I was enjoying the moment!

* Continue to strive to be the best person that I can be. Still striving...

* Continue to look for the good in the people around me, even if it's not so obvious. Sometimes it's tough to see the good, but I look really closely for it nonetheless.

* Continue to be thankful to Hashem for all that I am, all that I have and all that I can be. And I definitely still am!

Here's what I've been thinking... This year, I will announce my resolutions by adding "bli neder," "We'll see" and "I hope"!

Resolution: So I hope, bli neder, to try and fulfill 2005's resolutions in 2006 -- but we'll just have to wait and see if that happens.
_______________________________

Do you have any resolutions, aside from the obvious ones, that you've made for the coming year?

Blogging 101: Revisited

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"Class...CLASS!!"

A hush falls over the room.

"Thank you. Now a new term has just started for this class, Blogging 101. As you look around the room, you'll see several new faces, several old faces, and some empty seats. Those empty seats are for students who will no doubt be joining us when they hear what a wonderful spirited group we have in this room, and there are some students who've left us to seek their interests elsewhere."

"Um, Ms. TorontoPearl...?" pipes up a gregarious young man.

"Yes...uh--" I look down at my clipboard and student names "-- Andy Hardy?"

"No, ma'am, it's not Andy Hardy. That's just how I originally registered when I signed up for this class. My name is simply Danny Miller. What I wanted to ask is if we ever get to see old movies in this course or take field trips to places like old theaters?"

"Why would we do that in a class like this?" I inquire pointedly at this pleasant-looking young man.

A beautiful, dark-haired girl with a slight accent pipes up. "'Cause it would make our learning more of an adventure! It's always fun to have an adventure, isn't it?"

A bespectacled male student points to the girl. "Yeah, Sophia's right! I can make an adventure out of almost anything -- all it takes is some imagination and an interested audience."

"And what is your name?"

"Neil Kramer. And I prefer to be called Neilochka, if you don't mind. All my girlfriends call me that, right, Sophia?"

At the back of the room there's suddenly a slight commotion. Desks are being shifted and whispering can be heard.

"Excuse me, boys. What do you think you're doing?"

"Um, we're trying to align our desks perfectly so that we can think better -- you know, be on the straight and narrow."

"And you boys are..."

"McAryeh," whispers one. "David," blurts out the other.

"Well, David, at least waste your time with something important!" I declare.

And then I hear crackling paper -- "Where is that sound coming from?" I inquire as I glance around the room. Off to the side is a trio of young women, unwrapping lollipops, and passing them around.

"Ladies...please stop that. We don't eat candy in the middle of class."

"Sorry, Ms. TorontoPearl," says one. "It's just that I have a tremendous sweet tooth, and I always need something sweet to chew on. My friends, Randi and Anne, brought me some goodies and we're sharing them. Sharing is good, isn't it?"

"And sharing helps unify people," says Anne. "I even share my ideas with people, like ideas about books and kids and --"

"And I share my humor with others. And I like to help people with problems. That's good, too!" announces Randi.

"Well, yes...sharing is good. And speaking of sharing... We have two new students who transfered from another school. They're feeling a little sad these days 'cause no doubt they feel as if they lost their best friend, and having to go into unfamiliar surroundings. Please warmly welcome Glen and Elie. Show them what goodness is all about." The two men shyly smile from the back left-hand corner of the room.

"Okay, class, I know it'll take me a while to get to learn who all of you are, and I hope I haven't forgotten to mention anything right now, but we'll soon be comfortable with one another and will have a great time in Blogging 101. Everyone ready to have a great time?"

"Yesssssssss!" is yelled out in unison.

"Good. Let's get this party started....!"

A Tisket, a Brisket...

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Tell me, how can you top this product on the right: a brisket yarmulke?

THE BRISKET YARMULKE - Made of 100% kosher brisket, this one-size-fits-all “beefy beanie” comes emblazoned with a horseradish Star of David.

And speaking of brisket...can anyone tell me why brisket recipes are associated with Chanukah on every holiday menu I look at? Personally, I think the High Holidays or Pesach is the time to serve brisket at a family meal.

Our Chanukah meals used to consist of latkes and more latkes with sour cream or applesauce, and salad -- very simple dairy or pareve meals. When, pray tell, did a "good brisket" enter into Chanukah's gourmet equation?!

Two Wise Men Came A-Calling

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This post can also be titled Davka.

Last night, I 'd gone into our living room to draw open the curtains and set up a minimum of four chanukiyot to light (3 for each of the children; 1 for the adults). Although Chanukah had started on Sunday night, we had not yet been home to light our own candles, so everything was to be set up for the first time.

Just as I drew open the curtains, I saw two black-hatted men walk up our driveway to the front door. "Shlichim" I thought, "coming for donations!"

Now, I live in a Jewish neighborhood, but not a particular frum neighborhood, so we've only been "canvassed"for donations once so far in our two years plus of living here. We have friends who live closer to "the big shul" who are answering the door to donation seekers several times a month.

My husband was in the kitchen preparing latkes and dressed very casually, and I was left to open the door upon the knock. Davka, of all days, here I was wearing pants! Generally I wear skirts, but as I'd been home yesterday, I'd opted for pants. So I was self-conscious from the minute the knock came.

I opened the door to "Happy Chanukah" and replied "Chag Sameach". These 2 young teenage emissaries of Lubavitch were on the doorstep, asking if we'd already lit the candles, or if I needed any help in doing so. I told him that I was just about to set up several menorahs, one for each of my children.

My daughter shyly stood nearby, also dressed in her jeans yesterday while at home. One of the Lubavitchers pulled out a handful of dreidels from his pocket and offered my daughter one. Along came my youngest son--and he was davka dressed for the occasion, his tzitizit hanging out, his kippah on his head. The Lubavitchers must've wondered what kind of household this was--mother and daughter in jeans, son in kippah and tzitzit. Okay, so we're Modern.

I joked with the teens and asked if they wanted to light with us, and one asked if I needed help lighting. I quickly said no, that my husband was nearby and would soon be lighting with us. Had hubby made an appearance, I wonder what the teens would've thought: man in shorts and tank top -- very casual -- a baseball hat on his head, spatula for frying latkes in his hand.

We weren't actually ready to light just then, but in hindsight it might have been very nice had the Lubavitch teens stayed to light with us, and witness that although we might not have looked the part at that moment, we knew what we were doing, and we were doing it right... It would have been nice to open our "ohel" (tent) to Lubavitchers for a change, an act of role reversal.

I'm sort of hoping that these 2 young men might alight upon our front doorstep once more before the chag is over. They go around helping others perform the mitzvah of candle lighting; maybe next time we can fulfill the mitzvah of "hachnasat orchim" (welcoming of guests) ...and offer them some latkes and a mean game of dreidel!

Sometimes I Wonder...

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Sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't just be better off using this blog of mine as a pure venting venue, as an exclusive room for ranting.

I've been at it for a year and in hindsight, I don't believe that I've made my blog a forum for shouting out about what bothers me, what turns me off, what injustices hide on every street corner. Yes, I've revealed my passively angry self a few times, but perhaps not often enough.

I haven't ranted nor raved too much; however, I've revealed plenty. Do you feel you know me any better now than you did just over a year ago when you stumbled across my blog name? Could you reiterate what makes me tick? Do you feel you know me so well that reading my posts is just like sitting across from me at a cybercafe table and sharing a tete-a-tete?

Sometimes I wonder if I've sometimes revealed too much, if perhaps when you meet me, you'll think you know everything there is to know about me...except perhaps my real name! Did my poetry say too much, or perhaps did my "All About Me" list from many moons ago set you on the path to knowing Pearl? Or maybe the memes I replied to appeased your personal curiosities about me.

Like any true jewel, I believe I'm multifaceted. Yes, this Pearl might be saying too much at times, but believe me when I say there's much more to me than meets the printed computer screen. I'm a composite of contradictions: I appear very conservative, yet some of my offbeat thinking makes me liberal; I am gentle and mild-mannered, yet can shrill with the best of them; I often appear bold and self-assured, yet I am the biggest wuss and scaredy-cat when it comes to many things; I am very creative in my thinking, yet sometimes lazy to put forth the effort to bring those thoughts to fruition.

I'd like to think that the value of this jewel appreciates over time, just as your appreciation of Pearlies of Wisdom does too. So here's to many more "revealing" sessions about me...

"My Zayde" by Moshe Yess

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As I stroll through blogland, peeking in the windows of your blogs, I notice that so many of you, especially at this time of year, or during the High Holidays, recall your grandparents with such a fondness, such a warmth of spirit.

Unfortunately, I only knew one grandparent, and he passed away soon after I turned four years old, so my memories of him are rather limited. But his gentle spirit, his smile and his goodness live on in my mother and all she represents.

For all of you who have been fortunate to know and have a Zayde, or a Zaydie, or a Gramps, or a Grandpa, or a Saba, or a Papa, or--as in my case--a Grospappi, this song with its beautiful and tear-jerking lyrics are for you.

My Zayde lived with us in my parents’ home,
He used to laugh, he put me on his knee.
And he spoke about his life in Poland,
He spoke, but with a bitter memory.

And he spoke about the soldiers who would beat him;
They laughed at him, they tore his long black coat.
And he spoke about a synagogue that they burned down one day,
And the crying that was heard beneath the smoke.

Chorus:
But Zayde made us laugh,
Zayde made us sing,
And Zayde made a kiddush Friday night;
And Zayde, oh, my Zayde,
How I love him so,
And Zayde used to teach me wrong from right.

His eyes lit up when he would teach me Torah,
He taught me every line so carefully.
He spoke about our slavery in Egypt,
And how G-d took us out to make us free.

But winter went by,
Summer came along,
I went to camp to run and play.
And when I got back home,
They said, “Zayde’s gone,”
And all his books were packed and stored away.

I don’t know how or why it came to be,
It happened slowly over so many years,
We just stopped being Jewish
like my Zayde was,
And no one cared enough to shed a tear.

Chorus

But many winters went by,
And many summers came along,
And now my children sit in front of me.
And who will be the Zayde of my children,
Who will be their Zayde, if not me?

Who will be the Zaydes of our children,
Who will be their Zaydes, if not we?

You Light Up My Life

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Okay, okay, so everyone's writing a post about Chanukah -- nu, why should I be different?

Growing up, I shared a simple Chanukah with my parents and brothers: the brachot and lighting of the candles, me, on the piano, accompanying my father while he led"Maoz Tsur"; eating some wonderful latkes which, although tasty, smelled up the house and whose fried smell lingered on our clothing; draidel playing with my brothers; eating chocolate coins; getting silver dollars as real Chanukah gelt. We were not big on gift-giving, instead getting what we needed -- pajamas, socks, etc. It was a simple, practical haimeshe kind of holiday...as it should be!

Of course, many years later, with family becoming extended and newer generations being born, there was more gift giving happening, but still the accent was on the gathering of family, the admiring the light of the candles and appreciating the fact that we were all together. (and yes, Pearl playing the piano for "Maoz Tsur" was still part of the picture!)

One year, my husband and I gave a wonderful Chanukah gift to our parents -- I wrote a poem that also served as a riddle of sorts. It introduced and announced my pregnancy with my oldest child.

About three years later, I stood in front of the Chanukah "licht" with child #2, then about 5 months old, and soon after wrote a poem about her, about whom she was named for, and about Chanukah in a town in Poland in 1942 compared to Chanukah 1997. (that poem, important to me, was published the next year)

A few Chanukahs have since passed. We are more than happy to still share the lighting of candles with our children and our parents; more than happy, we are thankful.

But personal family aside, the nicest Chanukah experience I ever had was in Far Rockaway, NY, about 10 years ago. My first cousin who has, bli ayin harah, ten children, had oil-filled chanukiahs for each of those ten children to light, as well as one for him and his wife. The room was illuminated with such a magnificent warm and all-embracing light; the reflection in the living room window was a sight to behold, and I went outside the house to stand on the sidewalk and take a photo of what was truly a picture window. It was really wonderful experience for me to see the light that was brought into that home over the Chanukah season.

I hope that each of you holds up a lit candle to light the chanukiah in your windows and may the light be cast right back and reflected on you and your families.

Happy Chanukah.