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I traveled specifically to Los Angeles this past weekend to meet the Avrechs and honor the memory of their son, Ariel Chaim Avrech, who died two years ago at the age of 22, after first being diagnosed with cancer eight years earlier.
I did not know Ariel, I did not know his family. But since early October 2004 via Seraphic Secret and via personal correspondence with Ariel's father, Robert, I did get to delve into their world. And it was most important to me to make the effort to be part of their world on Sunday, June 19, 11:00 a.m., at Young Israel of Century City, when the Second Annual Ariel Chaim Avrech Yahrzeit Lecture was to be held.
Not only was it a Yahrzeit lecture, but it was Robert and wife Karen's 28th wedding anniversary, which was mentioned briefly, and Father's Day, which was not acknowledged publicly.
To delve into an arena of memories of and tributes to a deceased child every day is difficult; to do so on a publicly acknowledged "parent holiday" is almost unthinkable. But Robert and Karen and their two daughters sat dignified, with their emotions in check, and in the front benches of their beautiful shul to welcome the speakers for the event.
Karen's brother, Rabbi David Singer, had learned gemarah in Ariel's name and did a siyyum of his tractate after speaking about his late nephew, Ariel, and Ariel's parents. Karen's father, Rabbi Philip Singer, stood dignified as he spoke about his late grandson and Ariel's handwritten study notes that he'd been transcribing. Ariel had notebooks filled with notes, comments, questions, Halachic debates, and he had notes about notes, seemingly never-ending scribbles in Hebrew and English that made sense to those who read them. A real "talmid chacham", "ben Torah", Ariel could teach others, older or younger than himself, all that he'd acquired. As Robert Avrech has said many times, "Ariel became my teacher..."
The main speaker of the event was Rabbi David Fohrman, who'd flown in from Baltimore, where he's a teacher at Ner Yisroel Yeshiva -- and one whom Ariel respected, admired and enjoyed so much -- and an adjunct professor at Johns Hopkin University. As well, Rabbi Fohrman heads an organization called Jewish Explorations. And that is exactly how the rabbi spoke. He did not just speak; rather, he explored the Jewish concept of forgiveness, using the example of Joseph and his brothers in a scene that takes place at the end of Sefer Bereshit.
Rabbi Fohrman didn't stand on the bima and spew out information; he led and moderated a round-table-type discussion among the attendees in that shul. He posed scenarios, took polls, cited comparisons and references to help the audience understand if whether or not one can truly forgive & forget, or just forgive; what are forgiveness and apologies composed of -- it is never just about I. It is about what I did to YOU. It is about recognizing what you did, and the process of how you reach vidui, confession. But it is not just the relationship between I and YOU. It is about the ultimate relationship between I and G-d.
We can't always question why things happen; we can only try to recognize and overcome them.
We can't always understand why G-d chose someone to be so sick and die at a young age, but we can try to learn in that person's name, try to emulate that person's good qualities and try to keep that person alive in so many other ways.
Robert and Karen Avrech and their family are busy doing that. They started their publishing company, Seraphic Press, in Ariel's name. Robert's first release for the company, The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden, is dedicated to Ariel. Robert keeps his blog, Seraphic Secret, which began as a means to talk about his great loss. The Avrechs have sponsored a scholarship in Ariel's name and have brought this annual lecture to their shul.
To their credit, they spent two years producing THE BOOK OF ARIEL, which was released at the lecture. It is a most lovely tribute book, filled with personal family stories, Ariel's own words, accolades and memories from family and friends and community members. The words are punctuated by photos and even an accompanying CD, a song written for Ariel by a Jewish performer.
I am more than honored to have had a personal poem I wrote, "Seraphic Vision," included in the book. It is my personal offering to this young man whom I did not know but hopefully, whom my words captured.
His neshama should have an aliya, and may we all be strengthened for having known him personally or having discovered, via his family and friends, his wonderful and most admirable character traits.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Okay...Who's Next?
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In the past three weeks I have met several U.S. based fellow bloggers--I think that's sort of rare. It's not as if I was at a bloggers' convention or anything like that.
Week One: I met M from Ink as Rain and at least two of her friends who also blog and are linked to M's site.
Week Two: I met Dr. Bean & Ball-and-Chain, as well as Ralphie, from Kerckhoff Coffeehouse.
I met Robert & Karen Avrech from Seraphic Secret.
I met Luke Ford from several blogs.
I met Rochelle Krich from News, Views & Schmooze.
Week Three: Last night I met PsychoToddler, Mrs. Balabusta and TuesdayWishes. Okay, so TuesdayWishes lives in Toronto, but she is an ex-American.
It has been my experience thus far that each of these bloggers is bright and articulate, a pleasure to write to offline, or comment on their posts online. And in person...well, let's just say that the pleasure was all mine.
In the past three weeks I have met several U.S. based fellow bloggers--I think that's sort of rare. It's not as if I was at a bloggers' convention or anything like that.
Week One: I met M from Ink as Rain and at least two of her friends who also blog and are linked to M's site.
Week Two: I met Dr. Bean & Ball-and-Chain, as well as Ralphie, from Kerckhoff Coffeehouse.
I met Robert & Karen Avrech from Seraphic Secret.
I met Luke Ford from several blogs.
I met Rochelle Krich from News, Views & Schmooze.
Week Three: Last night I met PsychoToddler, Mrs. Balabusta and TuesdayWishes. Okay, so TuesdayWishes lives in Toronto, but she is an ex-American.
It has been my experience thus far that each of these bloggers is bright and articulate, a pleasure to write to offline, or comment on their posts online. And in person...well, let's just say that the pleasure was all mine.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
She's Ba...a....a....c.....k!!!!
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Yes, I'm back, but I'm not quite here, if you know what I mean. I left L.A. Monday p.m. 10:30 their time, which in Toronto, means 1:30 a.m. I arrived today Toronto time 6:10 a.m. I did not manage to sleep a wink on the plane.
Airport - taxi - parents' house - breakfast - lay a bit on sunroom sofa - picked up a ready-made lunch - drove to work. NO SLEEP!!!
So anyhow, here I am, ready to relay some L.A. tidbits. But first:
1. A public thank-you to Dr. Bean and ball-and chain of Kerckhoff Coffeehouse for being such wonderful hosts, and extending themselves to me, me a "virtual stranger."
2. A public thank-you to ball-and-chain's mom for being a wonderful hostess and extending herself to me...just because she's as nice as her daughter and son-in-law.
3. A public thank-you to Robert and Karen Avrech of Seraphic Secret for being so warm and welcoming and making me part of "the family" over Shabbos.
4. A public thank-you to award-winning mystery author Rochelle Krich for also being very warm and receptive to my company. (Rochelle, I ANNOUNCED to my mother this morning that we HAVE TO START reading your books....bli neder!)
5. I am ashamed in a way to say that whatever I knew of Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and surrounding vicinity I knew from television and movies. Yesterday I went to the Santa Monica Pier and beach. The looming Ferris wheel in the amusement park was no surprise, "Muscle Beach" was no surprise. How many times have I seen those images displayed on a TV or movie screen?
Same with Rodeo Drive, which I drove through, Melrose Avenue, which I walked on. Street names didn't jump out at me, because I already knew them. I think that's somewhat sad that media prepares me for first-time events, but takes away the surprise factor for me, too.
6. Of course, life always looks greener on the other side of the fence, in this case, on the other side of the Hollywood Hills. I live a very nice life in Toronto with my husband and children, but yeah, wouldn't I just like to pick up and move to the West Coast. The sky is continually blue, the breeze is slight and the cool evening air is welcome. I continually had discussions that almost "anything goes" in terms of Yiddishkeit. You can dress how you want and you still fit in. It isn't about just being thin, and beautiful and wealthy. It's about the person beneath whatever clothing he/she chooses to wear. And the shul opportunities are endless and seem to meet every need.
7. The Simon Wiesenthal's Museum of Tolerance is a powerful center for learning, for enriching information one already has, for viewing Jewish artifacts and wondering about the people to whom they belonged. It is a center that every person, Jew and non-Jew, should visit. It is a place where we must pay homage to collective memories and experiences of men, women and children who have suffered at the hands of others due to INTOLERANCE.
8. I learned that L.A. has a thriving Jewish Persian community. Whereas, Toronto has a large community of Moroccan Jews, New York has a large contingent of Syrian and Bukkharian Jews, in L.A. it's the Persians. And last night, while dining in a Persian Kosher restaurant, I learned what Persian rice is all about, specifically tadig. That rice dish is the same as the rice that sometimes encrusts itself at the bottom of my pot; it is dry and seemingly not tasteful, so we toss it. But somehow this crust of rice called tadig works...so now when I plan to serve rice to guests and it dries up in the pot, it won't matter. I will just tell them, "So...what do you think of Persian rice?" As long as it has a name, it should be okay to eat!
9. I have learned that sometimes we have to tamp down our true emotions on behalf of others. On Sunday morning, I called my husband to wish him a Happy Father's Day. After some small talk, he had something important to tell me that he knew would be upsetting, but he thought I'd want to know. Our dog had died on Shabbos--my husband and children were out for shul, lunch and most of the remainder of the day, and when they came home, they saw that the dog had died. As he told me the story, I listened and asked about my children's reaction to Tyson's death. It broke my heart to know that I wasn't there to comfort them, although I knew my husband, as he described, had done a more than fine job about it himself, taking all the right actions, saying all the right things to the children.
And then I burst out crying like a baby...thinking about my husband and children and our sweet dog who, although we'd only had him for 2 1/2 years, having adopted him from another family when he was five, was a real family member. After the phone conversation with my husband, I started to cry heavily once more -- and then I told myself I had to distance myself from that emotion, I had to stop crying. How dare I cry about a pet when I was about to attend a lecture in memory of a young man who had endured years of painful illness and an untimely death, a young man who'd been robbed of life in the prime of his youth, a young man who had shown his tremendous potential early in life. How dare I cry for Tyson? I had to save my tears for Ariel Chaim Avrech...
****to be continued****
Yes, I'm back, but I'm not quite here, if you know what I mean. I left L.A. Monday p.m. 10:30 their time, which in Toronto, means 1:30 a.m. I arrived today Toronto time 6:10 a.m. I did not manage to sleep a wink on the plane.
Airport - taxi - parents' house - breakfast - lay a bit on sunroom sofa - picked up a ready-made lunch - drove to work. NO SLEEP!!!
So anyhow, here I am, ready to relay some L.A. tidbits. But first:
1. A public thank-you to Dr. Bean and ball-and chain of Kerckhoff Coffeehouse for being such wonderful hosts, and extending themselves to me, me a "virtual stranger."
2. A public thank-you to ball-and-chain's mom for being a wonderful hostess and extending herself to me...just because she's as nice as her daughter and son-in-law.
3. A public thank-you to Robert and Karen Avrech of Seraphic Secret for being so warm and welcoming and making me part of "the family" over Shabbos.
4. A public thank-you to award-winning mystery author Rochelle Krich for also being very warm and receptive to my company. (Rochelle, I ANNOUNCED to my mother this morning that we HAVE TO START reading your books....bli neder!)
5. I am ashamed in a way to say that whatever I knew of Los Angeles, Beverly Hills and surrounding vicinity I knew from television and movies. Yesterday I went to the Santa Monica Pier and beach. The looming Ferris wheel in the amusement park was no surprise, "Muscle Beach" was no surprise. How many times have I seen those images displayed on a TV or movie screen?
Same with Rodeo Drive, which I drove through, Melrose Avenue, which I walked on. Street names didn't jump out at me, because I already knew them. I think that's somewhat sad that media prepares me for first-time events, but takes away the surprise factor for me, too.
6. Of course, life always looks greener on the other side of the fence, in this case, on the other side of the Hollywood Hills. I live a very nice life in Toronto with my husband and children, but yeah, wouldn't I just like to pick up and move to the West Coast. The sky is continually blue, the breeze is slight and the cool evening air is welcome. I continually had discussions that almost "anything goes" in terms of Yiddishkeit. You can dress how you want and you still fit in. It isn't about just being thin, and beautiful and wealthy. It's about the person beneath whatever clothing he/she chooses to wear. And the shul opportunities are endless and seem to meet every need.
7. The Simon Wiesenthal's Museum of Tolerance is a powerful center for learning, for enriching information one already has, for viewing Jewish artifacts and wondering about the people to whom they belonged. It is a center that every person, Jew and non-Jew, should visit. It is a place where we must pay homage to collective memories and experiences of men, women and children who have suffered at the hands of others due to INTOLERANCE.
8. I learned that L.A. has a thriving Jewish Persian community. Whereas, Toronto has a large community of Moroccan Jews, New York has a large contingent of Syrian and Bukkharian Jews, in L.A. it's the Persians. And last night, while dining in a Persian Kosher restaurant, I learned what Persian rice is all about, specifically tadig. That rice dish is the same as the rice that sometimes encrusts itself at the bottom of my pot; it is dry and seemingly not tasteful, so we toss it. But somehow this crust of rice called tadig works...so now when I plan to serve rice to guests and it dries up in the pot, it won't matter. I will just tell them, "So...what do you think of Persian rice?" As long as it has a name, it should be okay to eat!
9. I have learned that sometimes we have to tamp down our true emotions on behalf of others. On Sunday morning, I called my husband to wish him a Happy Father's Day. After some small talk, he had something important to tell me that he knew would be upsetting, but he thought I'd want to know. Our dog had died on Shabbos--my husband and children were out for shul, lunch and most of the remainder of the day, and when they came home, they saw that the dog had died. As he told me the story, I listened and asked about my children's reaction to Tyson's death. It broke my heart to know that I wasn't there to comfort them, although I knew my husband, as he described, had done a more than fine job about it himself, taking all the right actions, saying all the right things to the children.
And then I burst out crying like a baby...thinking about my husband and children and our sweet dog who, although we'd only had him for 2 1/2 years, having adopted him from another family when he was five, was a real family member. After the phone conversation with my husband, I started to cry heavily once more -- and then I told myself I had to distance myself from that emotion, I had to stop crying. How dare I cry about a pet when I was about to attend a lecture in memory of a young man who had endured years of painful illness and an untimely death, a young man who'd been robbed of life in the prime of his youth, a young man who had shown his tremendous potential early in life. How dare I cry for Tyson? I had to save my tears for Ariel Chaim Avrech...
****to be continued****
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Comedic Relief?
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A short while ago, I had the most bizarre thing happen to me, and I thought it was worthy of a post. See, this addict already thinks in blog terms (and I've even had a couple dreams about blogs/bloggers, too).
I sent my husband an e-mail to his work from my work address. A short time later, it came back with some undeliverable message. I tried to send it again, knowing I'd sent something yesterday that had not bounced back. But yes, it bounced back with some weird administrative message. I thought perhaps it was happening from my business end, so I sent the message to my hotmail account to forward to his work number. Yet again the same thing happened.
So I called his work number, asked for him and was told: "He doesn't work here anymore."
I was openmouthed as I hung up the phone. Man, that company works fast, canceling e-mail address accounts as soon as a person is canned... I'd spoken to my husband at 9:45 when he was on his way to work after tending to some personal matters, and imagined what a horrible scene it must've been for him to be received with walking papers when he walked in. And without seemingly good reasons, I figured, aside from being forewarned that the company might be bought out.
I called my husband on his cell, wondering where he was in his desolate state.
He answered very calmly and I said "What's up? I know what happened."
"What happened?"
"Well, I tried to send you e-mail messages and they all came bouncing back with a kind of undeliverable message."
"Yeah, we didn't pay the bill, so I guess they cut the lines."
"But that's not all. Where are you?"
"I'm at my desk."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"Who's there near you?"
"Nobody."
"R, I know what happened... I just called you and when I asked for you, I was told that you didn't work there anymore."
"Yes, I work here. Who'd you speak to?"
"I don't know...whoever answered the phone."
"And she told you I don't work here anymore?"
"Yeah."
"Hold on..." [and I hear him walking out of his office, down the hall and to the receptionist, asking: "Did my wife just call you? Did you tell her that I don't work here anymore?"]
Suddenly I thought they'd played a trick on me and my husband.
"Nope, there was no call from you. Maybe you dialed a wrong number...?"
"No...I dialed 555-5555."
"Pearl, I work for __________ Industries. You called ____________ Industries. I have not worked there in three years!"
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
How the heck did my memory pull up that old number at this moment in time just after my husband's e-mail account showed he didn't have an account there anymore?
Is this what is called comedic relief?
A short while ago, I had the most bizarre thing happen to me, and I thought it was worthy of a post. See, this addict already thinks in blog terms (and I've even had a couple dreams about blogs/bloggers, too).
I sent my husband an e-mail to his work from my work address. A short time later, it came back with some undeliverable message. I tried to send it again, knowing I'd sent something yesterday that had not bounced back. But yes, it bounced back with some weird administrative message. I thought perhaps it was happening from my business end, so I sent the message to my hotmail account to forward to his work number. Yet again the same thing happened.
So I called his work number, asked for him and was told: "He doesn't work here anymore."
I was openmouthed as I hung up the phone. Man, that company works fast, canceling e-mail address accounts as soon as a person is canned... I'd spoken to my husband at 9:45 when he was on his way to work after tending to some personal matters, and imagined what a horrible scene it must've been for him to be received with walking papers when he walked in. And without seemingly good reasons, I figured, aside from being forewarned that the company might be bought out.
I called my husband on his cell, wondering where he was in his desolate state.
He answered very calmly and I said "What's up? I know what happened."
"What happened?"
"Well, I tried to send you e-mail messages and they all came bouncing back with a kind of undeliverable message."
"Yeah, we didn't pay the bill, so I guess they cut the lines."
"But that's not all. Where are you?"
"I'm at my desk."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
"Who's there near you?"
"Nobody."
"R, I know what happened... I just called you and when I asked for you, I was told that you didn't work there anymore."
"Yes, I work here. Who'd you speak to?"
"I don't know...whoever answered the phone."
"And she told you I don't work here anymore?"
"Yeah."
"Hold on..." [and I hear him walking out of his office, down the hall and to the receptionist, asking: "Did my wife just call you? Did you tell her that I don't work here anymore?"]
Suddenly I thought they'd played a trick on me and my husband.
"Nope, there was no call from you. Maybe you dialed a wrong number...?"
"No...I dialed 555-5555."
"Pearl, I work for __________ Industries. You called ____________ Industries. I have not worked there in three years!"
Oh.
My.
Gawd.
How the heck did my memory pull up that old number at this moment in time just after my husband's e-mail account showed he didn't have an account there anymore?
Is this what is called comedic relief?
An Hour Later...
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It's just over an hour since I last posted, and yes, I'm still awake and at the computer in between transferring my traveling wardrobe from a garment bag to a suitcase. Only problem is that there are still shoes, and perhaps some gifts that I can transfer from the carryon to the suitcase. Yes, it's a big suitcase. My hubby is sleeping now and I can't get to the carryon. So that will have to wait till morning -- oh, it is morning. Okay, that's going to wait for about 4 more hours.
I commented on Treppenwitz's Carnival of the Blind Dates post about my worst blind date ever. But it's okay; I learned and grew from that experience. I grew a slightly thicker skin is all. Do check out some of the horror stories/experiences from dating hell that others confessed to. You might want to add a few of your own.
This is TorontoPearl signing off...
It's just over an hour since I last posted, and yes, I'm still awake and at the computer in between transferring my traveling wardrobe from a garment bag to a suitcase. Only problem is that there are still shoes, and perhaps some gifts that I can transfer from the carryon to the suitcase. Yes, it's a big suitcase. My hubby is sleeping now and I can't get to the carryon. So that will have to wait till morning -- oh, it is morning. Okay, that's going to wait for about 4 more hours.
I commented on Treppenwitz's Carnival of the Blind Dates post about my worst blind date ever. But it's okay; I learned and grew from that experience. I grew a slightly thicker skin is all. Do check out some of the horror stories/experiences from dating hell that others confessed to. You might want to add a few of your own.
This is TorontoPearl signing off...
Die-Hard Blogger Does It Again...(Burns the Candle at Both Ends)
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I'm starting this post at 1:22 a.m. -- it will be interesting to see when I actually publish it.
Lots is going on and I'm antsy all around.
I am flying this evening to L.A. First I am going to work, rushing out of work, dropping my car off at my parents, where I'm also meeting my husband and children who will drive me to the airport.
This evening I packed. Actually I packed, unpacked, packed again, pushed, stuffed,unwrinkled, wrapped and rewrapped...and in the morning I will have to do it all again. My garment bag is stuffed; I'm changing my luggage to a suitcase. (actually I'll do it after I finish this post...I'll be rushing in the a.m.)
What?! She's going for four days and she needs a suitcase?
Yes, I need a suitcase; just call me a female. I need multiple pairs of shoes, two hats, and tons of space for gifts...gifts mostly for people who are strangers (in some specific case, "STRANGE") to me. That is my carryon luggage -- a bag of gifts--hardly any room for my toiletries, but gifts galore. Maybe I'll stand in the Air Canada aisles of the plane and hawk the goods. "Wholesale, get your gifts wholesale..."
Anyways, yes I'm a last minute kind of person what with packing the night before and repacking the morning of...but Shabbos was in the way, Shavuot was in the way, life was in the way.
I am greatly anticipating this journey of mine. I have not traveled on my own for MANY MANY MANY years, and the last time being from Toronto to NYC. It is a journey, because I'm going into territory, which for me, is uncharted. But thanks to the world of blogging that I've partaken in for the past six months, I will arrive into this unfamiliar territory and will be warmly met and greeted by fellow bloggers.
I reiterate that the blogging world is expansive, yet it bridges many distances, narrows the margins and geographical spaces so that I can say, "You live there and you write to us here" not that "You live WA..Y....Y....Y over there and I live WA....Y....Y....Y....over here."
I'm tired, my head is pounding, I have to unpack and repack, get some sleep and wake up at 6:30, so I will bid you a fond adieu as I take my leave for the next few days to LA LA LAND.
Wishing you all well...and just a pearly of wisdom: "It's not always best to leave things to the last minute."
I'm starting this post at 1:22 a.m. -- it will be interesting to see when I actually publish it.
Lots is going on and I'm antsy all around.
I am flying this evening to L.A. First I am going to work, rushing out of work, dropping my car off at my parents, where I'm also meeting my husband and children who will drive me to the airport.
This evening I packed. Actually I packed, unpacked, packed again, pushed, stuffed,unwrinkled, wrapped and rewrapped...and in the morning I will have to do it all again. My garment bag is stuffed; I'm changing my luggage to a suitcase. (actually I'll do it after I finish this post...I'll be rushing in the a.m.)
What?! She's going for four days and she needs a suitcase?
Yes, I need a suitcase; just call me a female. I need multiple pairs of shoes, two hats, and tons of space for gifts...gifts mostly for people who are strangers (in some specific case, "STRANGE") to me. That is my carryon luggage -- a bag of gifts--hardly any room for my toiletries, but gifts galore. Maybe I'll stand in the Air Canada aisles of the plane and hawk the goods. "Wholesale, get your gifts wholesale..."
Anyways, yes I'm a last minute kind of person what with packing the night before and repacking the morning of...but Shabbos was in the way, Shavuot was in the way, life was in the way.
I am greatly anticipating this journey of mine. I have not traveled on my own for MANY MANY MANY years, and the last time being from Toronto to NYC. It is a journey, because I'm going into territory, which for me, is uncharted. But thanks to the world of blogging that I've partaken in for the past six months, I will arrive into this unfamiliar territory and will be warmly met and greeted by fellow bloggers.
I reiterate that the blogging world is expansive, yet it bridges many distances, narrows the margins and geographical spaces so that I can say, "You live there and you write to us here" not that "You live WA..Y....Y....Y over there and I live WA....Y....Y....Y....over here."
I'm tired, my head is pounding, I have to unpack and repack, get some sleep and wake up at 6:30, so I will bid you a fond adieu as I take my leave for the next few days to LA LA LAND.
Wishing you all well...and just a pearly of wisdom: "It's not always best to leave things to the last minute."
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
A Jewish Child's Thinking
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I am a Jewish adult. Once upon a time (but really not all that long ago) I was a Jewish child. Check out the linking title to see my post on THE JEWISH CONNECTION; get to know the child that I once was...
Hope you all had a fishy, cheesy, milk-it-for-all-its-worth Shavuot!
*********************************
P.S. Today is my oldest child's 10th birthday.
Happy Birthday, A.
Must say that I don't know where the past 10 years have gone--your arrival made Aba and I new members of the parenthood club. Yes, membership has its trials and tribulations, but we wouldn't miss it for the world.
Don't know that you'll ever get to read this, although you do know that your "Ema has a blog." But know that I love you, will always love you and will continue to declare it to the world in various ways, even via blogs and published poetry.
You are a special boy whose potential shines through each moment of each day. You made us proud parents 10 years ago; each day only reinforces that fact.
May G-d grant you good health and a long life, and may G-d also grant you the wisdom to make good choices in life.
Love,
A Proud Ema
I am a Jewish adult. Once upon a time (but really not all that long ago) I was a Jewish child. Check out the linking title to see my post on THE JEWISH CONNECTION; get to know the child that I once was...
Hope you all had a fishy, cheesy, milk-it-for-all-its-worth Shavuot!
*********************************
P.S. Today is my oldest child's 10th birthday.
Happy Birthday, A.
Must say that I don't know where the past 10 years have gone--your arrival made Aba and I new members of the parenthood club. Yes, membership has its trials and tribulations, but we wouldn't miss it for the world.
Don't know that you'll ever get to read this, although you do know that your "Ema has a blog." But know that I love you, will always love you and will continue to declare it to the world in various ways, even via blogs and published poetry.
You are a special boy whose potential shines through each moment of each day. You made us proud parents 10 years ago; each day only reinforces that fact.
May G-d grant you good health and a long life, and may G-d also grant you the wisdom to make good choices in life.
Love,
A Proud Ema
Thursday, June 09, 2005
"Just Orthodox"
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See my latest addition over at THE JEWISH CONNECTION.
In case I don't "connect" with you people tomorrow, or this weekend, have a Good Shabbos and a Chag Sameach -- for all you Shabbos/Shavuot observers.
***May you "schlep nachos" from your surrounding families. (but for the sake of this Yom Tov, make certain they're CHEESE nachos!)
See my latest addition over at THE JEWISH CONNECTION.
In case I don't "connect" with you people tomorrow, or this weekend, have a Good Shabbos and a Chag Sameach -- for all you Shabbos/Shavuot observers.
***May you "schlep nachos" from your surrounding families. (but for the sake of this Yom Tov, make certain they're CHEESE nachos!)
A Moment of Silliness
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Hey, people, I just noticed something -- my numbers are up (site meter stats), my comments are down. What's up with that? I mean, down with that? I mean...oh, you know what I mean.
Get readin', get writin' and give me that 'rithmetic!
Hey, people, I just noticed something -- my numbers are up (site meter stats), my comments are down. What's up with that? I mean, down with that? I mean...oh, you know what I mean.
Get readin', get writin' and give me that 'rithmetic!
I Made the Cover of a (Virtual) Magazine
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Wow, today I became...a cover story of a magazine. My Detroit-based blogging buddy AirTime has captured some of my "pearlies" for posterity's sake. He's "made an issue out of me."
Thanks, AirTime.
Check it out for yourselves.
Wow, today I became...a cover story of a magazine. My Detroit-based blogging buddy AirTime has captured some of my "pearlies" for posterity's sake. He's "made an issue out of me."
Thanks, AirTime.
Check it out for yourselves.
Schlepping Nachos All the Way
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(I hope the following is not truly deemed lashon harah; for me, it was a perk in my otherwise boring day.)
I have a dear dear dear friend who's been in my life for about 25 years. We went to high school together, really bonding when we were in our last year, we went to university together and we stayed friends through courtships and marriages and children.
Although Jewish, this friend wasn't raised in any kind of observant, or even traditional home. But she's made great strides over the years, has a better understanding of Jewish customs, religious terms and the like, and more importantly a respect for Yiddishkeit even while still not being observant in any real way, except for some family meals on Rosh Hashana and basic seder/meals on Pesach.
I'd e-mailed her and mentioned that my oldest son had a mishna presentation yesterday at the school, which I attended, and it was a lovely evening put together by some shlichim for the grade 4's and 5's.
My friend wrote back, "You must have been schlepping nachos with A's mishna presentation!"
Of course it was an error, a misguided response...but I smiled widely upon reading her words. They warmed my heart, just as seeing my son last night perform with his class on stage had me schepping naches!
(I hope the following is not truly deemed lashon harah; for me, it was a perk in my otherwise boring day.)
I have a dear dear dear friend who's been in my life for about 25 years. We went to high school together, really bonding when we were in our last year, we went to university together and we stayed friends through courtships and marriages and children.
Although Jewish, this friend wasn't raised in any kind of observant, or even traditional home. But she's made great strides over the years, has a better understanding of Jewish customs, religious terms and the like, and more importantly a respect for Yiddishkeit even while still not being observant in any real way, except for some family meals on Rosh Hashana and basic seder/meals on Pesach.
I'd e-mailed her and mentioned that my oldest son had a mishna presentation yesterday at the school, which I attended, and it was a lovely evening put together by some shlichim for the grade 4's and 5's.
My friend wrote back, "You must have been schlepping nachos with A's mishna presentation!"
Of course it was an error, a misguided response...but I smiled widely upon reading her words. They warmed my heart, just as seeing my son last night perform with his class on stage had me schepping naches!
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
School Days Revisited
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On one of my favorite blogs, Seraphic Press, Robert Avrech talks about a school incident from yesteryear. Okay, so it might have been from yesteryear, but the incident has had long-lasting physical, emotional and mental effects on him.
It is horrible to think that many schools and yeshivas of the past used a strong hand --literally and figuratively (I first wrote "physically" by mistake!) to teach their students. Verbal abuse would be heaped upon a young child, as he or she stood before the class. Of course, many of these children who were at the wrong end of such treatments lived with this emblazoned shame, thinking and understanding that they were at fault, that they deserved this kind of treatment being bestowed upon them.
At such impressionable ages, children were meant to "set an example" for their peers, but at the same time further opening themselves to ridicule not just from the administrative staff, but from classmates, as well. Reputations were made or broken as a result, as were childish egos.
It is heartbreaking and aggravating to learn of such treatments that happened in schools in the "good old days."
Thank G-d I was a good student, albeit shy, and don't recall ever being marked for a teacher's ire or its resulting consequences...except for one incident. When I was in my first year of junior high, in seventh grade, a teacher said something to me that every now and again plays in my head like a broken record. Is it supposed to be a reminder to me of how I am behaving and how I should be behaving? Is it a reminder that everyone has their good and bad days and sometimes just let loose on anyone who is in their path?
It was French class with Mr. K. -- a cute, Jewish guy in his early thirties, I suspect. Yes, he was cute, but I think he was also a bit anal in appearance, attitude, teaching methods. One particular day, my classmates were not in the most responsive of moods -- Mr. K was asking questions and the kids weren't too interested in answering them. Some kids raised their hands, others did not. I was one of those who did...and did...and did. I wanted to participate, I wanted to please him in showing that I knew the answer. I suddenly transformed into Arnold Horshak, aka Horshak, from Welcome Back, Kotter. You know, the one who sits at his desk, raises his hand and says, "OH,OH,OH," trying to draw attention to himself so that Mr. Kotter might call on him. Well, in my Mr. K's class, I was raising my hand, waving it around and trying to get him to pick me because nobody else was bothering to answer. And then he blurted out: "PEARL...STOP ANTAGONIZING ME!" Now, for a shy kid to be put on the spot like that by her teacher is crushing. Okay, so maybe I was bothersome a bit that particular day, but it was not as if there were several other hands going up. I knew answers, I wanted to answer questions. But instead I got that figurative slap in the face.
Can I be a nudnik, as my Mr. K hinted at? Yes -- and several fellow bloggers already know that. But the teacher could have said, "Pearl. I do see you with your hand up. I will call on you, but want to give some other students a chance to answer. Let's take turns answering, shall we?" That's only several more syllables than his original statement; it takes only a few more breaths to say; it's much gentler; it doesn't hurt as much.
I cannot imagine being in a position as Robert Avrech was. Bullied by a seemingly "eesh chashuv" (important person), someone who is supposed to be a leader, someone you are supposed to look up to, someone students in a different kind of world might have chosen to emulate, had he been a different kind of person.
Those types of teachers and administrators described by Robert could never truly be the victors. But people like Robert were certainly the victims.
On one of my favorite blogs, Seraphic Press, Robert Avrech talks about a school incident from yesteryear. Okay, so it might have been from yesteryear, but the incident has had long-lasting physical, emotional and mental effects on him.
It is horrible to think that many schools and yeshivas of the past used a strong hand --literally and figuratively (I first wrote "physically" by mistake!) to teach their students. Verbal abuse would be heaped upon a young child, as he or she stood before the class. Of course, many of these children who were at the wrong end of such treatments lived with this emblazoned shame, thinking and understanding that they were at fault, that they deserved this kind of treatment being bestowed upon them.
At such impressionable ages, children were meant to "set an example" for their peers, but at the same time further opening themselves to ridicule not just from the administrative staff, but from classmates, as well. Reputations were made or broken as a result, as were childish egos.
It is heartbreaking and aggravating to learn of such treatments that happened in schools in the "good old days."
Thank G-d I was a good student, albeit shy, and don't recall ever being marked for a teacher's ire or its resulting consequences...except for one incident. When I was in my first year of junior high, in seventh grade, a teacher said something to me that every now and again plays in my head like a broken record. Is it supposed to be a reminder to me of how I am behaving and how I should be behaving? Is it a reminder that everyone has their good and bad days and sometimes just let loose on anyone who is in their path?
It was French class with Mr. K. -- a cute, Jewish guy in his early thirties, I suspect. Yes, he was cute, but I think he was also a bit anal in appearance, attitude, teaching methods. One particular day, my classmates were not in the most responsive of moods -- Mr. K was asking questions and the kids weren't too interested in answering them. Some kids raised their hands, others did not. I was one of those who did...and did...and did. I wanted to participate, I wanted to please him in showing that I knew the answer. I suddenly transformed into Arnold Horshak, aka Horshak, from Welcome Back, Kotter. You know, the one who sits at his desk, raises his hand and says, "OH,OH,OH," trying to draw attention to himself so that Mr. Kotter might call on him. Well, in my Mr. K's class, I was raising my hand, waving it around and trying to get him to pick me because nobody else was bothering to answer. And then he blurted out: "PEARL...STOP ANTAGONIZING ME!" Now, for a shy kid to be put on the spot like that by her teacher is crushing. Okay, so maybe I was bothersome a bit that particular day, but it was not as if there were several other hands going up. I knew answers, I wanted to answer questions. But instead I got that figurative slap in the face.
Can I be a nudnik, as my Mr. K hinted at? Yes -- and several fellow bloggers already know that. But the teacher could have said, "Pearl. I do see you with your hand up. I will call on you, but want to give some other students a chance to answer. Let's take turns answering, shall we?" That's only several more syllables than his original statement; it takes only a few more breaths to say; it's much gentler; it doesn't hurt as much.
I cannot imagine being in a position as Robert Avrech was. Bullied by a seemingly "eesh chashuv" (important person), someone who is supposed to be a leader, someone you are supposed to look up to, someone students in a different kind of world might have chosen to emulate, had he been a different kind of person.
Those types of teachers and administrators described by Robert could never truly be the victors. But people like Robert were certainly the victims.
A Blogger's Interface
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Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of meeting fellow blogger M from Ink as Rain. She is a 17-year-old who was briefly visiting Toronto on her senior school trip.
I first learned about her several months ago on Robert Avrech's blog Seraphic Secret. He featured her review/personal feelings about Robert's recently released book, The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden. He is a longtime major Hollywood, award-winning screenwriter who was impressed enough with her outlook and her language to share her words with us. I was impressed enough to write to her and tell her how impressed I was with her.
M is a prolific writer, reader and an all-around good gal. I don't know her all that well, but when you read blogs, you also end up reading a lot between the lines. And those spaces do say a lot about this young woman, as have her messages to me over the past several months.
I was pleased when she contacted me last week and asked if we could perhaps meet. After consulting her trip schedule, it was decided that I'd come after work to meet her at the restaurant where they were having dinner. She warned me that she'd be wearing a blue kerchief.
As I entered the restaurant to a throng of teen girls dressed in a sea of denim, and looked around, I spotted her. She was pretty much what I'd imagined her to be: sweet, gentle and overall what I've always been called, "a nice Jewish girl"! Over the adolescent voices and the clink of cutlery and dishes, we managed to hold a brief "getting to know you" conversation.
She'd been very excited to meet me, had told some of her friends about it, and some of her fellow bloggers whose blogs I've visited were also on the trip. They, too, were happy to meet me, having heard all about me. Wow, a pseudo-blogging celebrity...!
I looked at M, I looked at her peers and thought to myself: "If I'd been handed a different deck of cards to play with in my life, I might very well have had a daughter that age."
Okay, so my own daughter is not yet that age, but in the meantime I'm happy enough to know someone that age who is wise beyond her years.
Her family should be proud of her, this high school graduate who is setting out to learn in a seminary in Israel, and later go on to college. I wish her lots of mazel on reaching this point in her life and setting off on a new and seemingly unknown course.
And one more thing, "Hey, M, may the blogging force be with you!"
Yesterday evening I had the pleasure of meeting fellow blogger M from Ink as Rain. She is a 17-year-old who was briefly visiting Toronto on her senior school trip.
I first learned about her several months ago on Robert Avrech's blog Seraphic Secret. He featured her review/personal feelings about Robert's recently released book, The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden. He is a longtime major Hollywood, award-winning screenwriter who was impressed enough with her outlook and her language to share her words with us. I was impressed enough to write to her and tell her how impressed I was with her.
M is a prolific writer, reader and an all-around good gal. I don't know her all that well, but when you read blogs, you also end up reading a lot between the lines. And those spaces do say a lot about this young woman, as have her messages to me over the past several months.
I was pleased when she contacted me last week and asked if we could perhaps meet. After consulting her trip schedule, it was decided that I'd come after work to meet her at the restaurant where they were having dinner. She warned me that she'd be wearing a blue kerchief.
As I entered the restaurant to a throng of teen girls dressed in a sea of denim, and looked around, I spotted her. She was pretty much what I'd imagined her to be: sweet, gentle and overall what I've always been called, "a nice Jewish girl"! Over the adolescent voices and the clink of cutlery and dishes, we managed to hold a brief "getting to know you" conversation.
She'd been very excited to meet me, had told some of her friends about it, and some of her fellow bloggers whose blogs I've visited were also on the trip. They, too, were happy to meet me, having heard all about me. Wow, a pseudo-blogging celebrity...!
I looked at M, I looked at her peers and thought to myself: "If I'd been handed a different deck of cards to play with in my life, I might very well have had a daughter that age."
Okay, so my own daughter is not yet that age, but in the meantime I'm happy enough to know someone that age who is wise beyond her years.
Her family should be proud of her, this high school graduate who is setting out to learn in a seminary in Israel, and later go on to college. I wish her lots of mazel on reaching this point in her life and setting off on a new and seemingly unknown course.
And one more thing, "Hey, M, may the blogging force be with you!"
Christian Debt Removers
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Here I am, writing about my Yiddishkeit on this blog and on The Jewish Connection, and what SPAM message do I find in my e-mail account this morning? A message with the subject line: Remove your debt the Christian way.
I opened it up to find a message from ChristianDebtRemovers.org, "debt elimination services based on Christian principles." And the ad cites Proverbs 22:7: "The borrower...is a slave to the lender."
I didn't know if I should laugh or curse. Should I contact them and say, "I'm Jewish, but 'take my debts please'?" (a la Henny Youngman)
Maybe they would laugh at me and say, "Go seek your own. You have many Shylocks among your people."
In the interest of all, Christian Debt Removers, please first remove my name from your distribution list. Then we can consider our account paid in full.
Here I am, writing about my Yiddishkeit on this blog and on The Jewish Connection, and what SPAM message do I find in my e-mail account this morning? A message with the subject line: Remove your debt the Christian way.
I opened it up to find a message from ChristianDebtRemovers.org, "debt elimination services based on Christian principles." And the ad cites Proverbs 22:7: "The borrower...is a slave to the lender."
I didn't know if I should laugh or curse. Should I contact them and say, "I'm Jewish, but 'take my debts please'?" (a la Henny Youngman)
Maybe they would laugh at me and say, "Go seek your own. You have many Shylocks among your people."
In the interest of all, Christian Debt Removers, please first remove my name from your distribution list. Then we can consider our account paid in full.
A Match Made on a Blog
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Blogger buddy Neil Fleischmann (Rabbi Neil Fleischmann to you folks) is in a play in NYC. It sounds like a blast -- I'm jealous it's not playing in Toronto, and wish that such an interactive production would make its way here. If any of you live in or around the Big Apple, do go check it out and let me (and Rabbi Neil) know what you thought of it.
Here are the essentials...oh, and MAZAL TOV!
A Match Made in Manhattan
THEATRE
Center for Jewish Discovery, 199 West 19th Street
OPENS
June 6, 2005
PERFORMANCES
Mon at 8pm
TICKETS
$55 includes Glatt Kosher dinner 212-924-3200
CAST
includes Neil Fleischmann, Mordy Lahasky, Kimberly Rae Miller, Peter Jablonski, Richard Lurie, Aaron Braunstein, Michelle Slonim and more
Entertainment
A Match Made in Manhattan is subtitled "The Interactive Jewish Wedding Experience." The press release says: "A Match Made in Manhattan involves the audience in all the festivities of a traditional Jewish wedding--and much more! This wild-and-crazy affair features hors d'ouevres, the ketubah signing, the badeken, the chupah ceremony, an elegant Glatt-kosher three-course meal with champagne toast, live music and dancing, riveting drama, and more laughs and tears than any other wedding you've ever attended."
It comes from the folks who gave us Destinations and Second Chances. The meal is catered by the Glatt Kosher restaurant The Village Crown, which specializes in gourmet Moroccan cuisine. Dinner is included in the ticket price; a cash bar is open throughout the evening.
Blogger buddy Neil Fleischmann (Rabbi Neil Fleischmann to you folks) is in a play in NYC. It sounds like a blast -- I'm jealous it's not playing in Toronto, and wish that such an interactive production would make its way here. If any of you live in or around the Big Apple, do go check it out and let me (and Rabbi Neil) know what you thought of it.
Here are the essentials...oh, and MAZAL TOV!
A Match Made in Manhattan
THEATRE
Center for Jewish Discovery, 199 West 19th Street
OPENS
June 6, 2005
PERFORMANCES
Mon at 8pm
TICKETS
$55 includes Glatt Kosher dinner 212-924-3200
CAST
includes Neil Fleischmann, Mordy Lahasky, Kimberly Rae Miller, Peter Jablonski, Richard Lurie, Aaron Braunstein, Michelle Slonim and more
Entertainment
A Match Made in Manhattan is subtitled "The Interactive Jewish Wedding Experience." The press release says: "A Match Made in Manhattan involves the audience in all the festivities of a traditional Jewish wedding--and much more! This wild-and-crazy affair features hors d'ouevres, the ketubah signing, the badeken, the chupah ceremony, an elegant Glatt-kosher three-course meal with champagne toast, live music and dancing, riveting drama, and more laughs and tears than any other wedding you've ever attended."
It comes from the folks who gave us Destinations and Second Chances. The meal is catered by the Glatt Kosher restaurant The Village Crown, which specializes in gourmet Moroccan cuisine. Dinner is included in the ticket price; a cash bar is open throughout the evening.
CONSERVADOX
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My mind has been churning, my fingers have been furiously typing. You can look to THE JEWISH CONNECTION (linked by post title) to see what has been on my mind these past couple of days...
My mind has been churning, my fingers have been furiously typing. You can look to THE JEWISH CONNECTION (linked by post title) to see what has been on my mind these past couple of days...
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
A Backhanded Compliment
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I was helping my seven-year-old daughter this evening with her homework (after I came home from meeting a fellow blogger visiting from the U.S. -- story perhaps for a future post). The assignment had her having to find and list 2, 3, 4, and 5-letter words within a much larger word. She was having a tough go of it, so I stood over her, suggested ways to help her seek out words. After a time, I started to give her some answers, too. (there was other homework to be done, and we didn't have all night to get to it.)
She seemed rather impressed with my ability to find quite a number of words within the word because suddenly she said very loudly and happily, "THANKS!" and then she said, "You're smarter than you look like." Thanks a lot, daughter of mine! I love you, too.
I was helping my seven-year-old daughter this evening with her homework (after I came home from meeting a fellow blogger visiting from the U.S. -- story perhaps for a future post). The assignment had her having to find and list 2, 3, 4, and 5-letter words within a much larger word. She was having a tough go of it, so I stood over her, suggested ways to help her seek out words. After a time, I started to give her some answers, too. (there was other homework to be done, and we didn't have all night to get to it.)
She seemed rather impressed with my ability to find quite a number of words within the word because suddenly she said very loudly and happily, "THANKS!" and then she said, "You're smarter than you look like." Thanks a lot, daughter of mine! I love you, too.
There's a New Blog in Town...
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One small step for mankind; one giant step for Jewish bloggers.
Check out The Jewish Connection, a new blog at http://ajewishsoul.blogspot.com/.
As a newbie, it it just getting off the ground, but I think it will soon be flying.
I feel privileged to have been invited to join the flight crew and I hope that you will seek out these horizons -- some new, some familiar.
Sit back and enjoy the ride.
One small step for mankind; one giant step for Jewish bloggers.
Check out The Jewish Connection, a new blog at http://ajewishsoul.blogspot.com/.
As a newbie, it it just getting off the ground, but I think it will soon be flying.
I feel privileged to have been invited to join the flight crew and I hope that you will seek out these horizons -- some new, some familiar.
Sit back and enjoy the ride.
"Called Your Number on the Telephone, Just To See If You Were Home..."
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Ahhh, telemarketers. Some of our favorite -- NOT! -- people in the world. Even more favorite when they call at dinnertime or when you're readying a young child for a bath or are already overseeing bathtime.
This evening, I witnessed the following scene. I was pleasantly surprised by it.
Ring-ring.
Husband answers the phone. "Hello?"
He listens. "It depends who's calling."
He listens. "Sorry, we're not home."
He hangs up. He has a big smile on his face.
(Turns out it was a time-sharing resort who wanted to make our acquaintance...)
Wow...what gumption. Mr. TorontoPearl proved that one can actually say what one only imagines they'd like to say...to a telemarketer.
When I answer the phone, see a number I don't recognize, and someone at the other end says, "May I please speak to Mr. or Mrs. TorontoPearl?" I automatically say, "I'm sorry they're not available now. May I please give them a message..." When they tell me what service or agency they're calling from, I tell them to try and call back in the middle of the day (when I'm sure nobody will be home to accept their call).
Perhaps Mr. TorontoPearl became a little bold over the phone this evening because he read this message, which I forwarded to him today. Some handy hints...
Andy Rooney's tips for telemarketers
1) Three Little Words That Work!
The three little words are: "Hold On, Please..."
Saying this, while putting down your phone and walking off (instead of hanging-up immediately) would make each telemarketing call so much more time-consuming that boiler room sales would grind to a halt.
Then when you eventually hear the phone company's "beep-beep-beep", you know it's time to go back and hang up your handset, which has efficiently completed its task.
These three little words will help eliminate telephone soliciting.
2) Do you ever get those annoying phone calls with no one on the other end? This is a telemarketing technique where a machine makes phone calls and records the time of day when a person answers the phone.
This technique is used to determine the best time of day for a "real" sales person to call back and get someone at home.
What you can do after answering, if you notice there is no one there, is to immediately start hitting your # button on the phone, 6 or 7 times, as quickly as possible.
This confuses the machine that dialed the call and it kicks your number out of their system.
Gosh, what a shame not to have your name in their system any longer!
Ahhh, telemarketers. Some of our favorite -- NOT! -- people in the world. Even more favorite when they call at dinnertime or when you're readying a young child for a bath or are already overseeing bathtime.
This evening, I witnessed the following scene. I was pleasantly surprised by it.
Ring-ring.
Husband answers the phone. "Hello?"
He listens. "It depends who's calling."
He listens. "Sorry, we're not home."
He hangs up. He has a big smile on his face.
(Turns out it was a time-sharing resort who wanted to make our acquaintance...)
Wow...what gumption. Mr. TorontoPearl proved that one can actually say what one only imagines they'd like to say...to a telemarketer.
When I answer the phone, see a number I don't recognize, and someone at the other end says, "May I please speak to Mr. or Mrs. TorontoPearl?" I automatically say, "I'm sorry they're not available now. May I please give them a message..." When they tell me what service or agency they're calling from, I tell them to try and call back in the middle of the day (when I'm sure nobody will be home to accept their call).
Perhaps Mr. TorontoPearl became a little bold over the phone this evening because he read this message, which I forwarded to him today. Some handy hints...
Andy Rooney's tips for telemarketers
1) Three Little Words That Work!
The three little words are: "Hold On, Please..."
Saying this, while putting down your phone and walking off (instead of hanging-up immediately) would make each telemarketing call so much more time-consuming that boiler room sales would grind to a halt.
Then when you eventually hear the phone company's "beep-beep-beep", you know it's time to go back and hang up your handset, which has efficiently completed its task.
These three little words will help eliminate telephone soliciting.
2) Do you ever get those annoying phone calls with no one on the other end? This is a telemarketing technique where a machine makes phone calls and records the time of day when a person answers the phone.
This technique is used to determine the best time of day for a "real" sales person to call back and get someone at home.
What you can do after answering, if you notice there is no one there, is to immediately start hitting your # button on the phone, 6 or 7 times, as quickly as possible.
This confuses the machine that dialed the call and it kicks your number out of their system.
Gosh, what a shame not to have your name in their system any longer!
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Random Acts of Kindness
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...
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...
The Simple Pleasures in Life
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"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?
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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
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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?"
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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...?
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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"
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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...!
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
I Applaud All of You... or : BUTTERFLIES
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Have I ever stopped to openly thank my blog readers? No, I don't think so. Now is as good a time as any to do so. I don't have to wait for the six-month mark.
Thank you. Todah rabah. Merci. Gracias.
When a person starts a blog for whatever reason, he/she is writing in a vacuum...because that's what cyberspace really is: one, big, gaping hole. Your words are tossed out to float around, sometimes endlessly, without a true destination.
I visualize a post like a butterfly -- some are very beautiful, others ordinary, some are unique-looking. But for every butterfly that flutters around, there has to be a flower upon which it'll settle, or there has to be someone out there to catch the butterfly with a net. We send our butterflies out to the world, not always knowing if they're caught, but surprisingly thankful when they are.
"Happiness is as a butterfly, which when pursued, will fly away, but which when you sit quietly will alight upon your shoulder."
I'm very happy with my butterflies; no doubt some of you are too. I've even noticed new visitors to the butterfly garden, visitors who've linked my efforts to theirs. What a beautiful butterfly garden each one of us can cultivate on our own or as part of an ensemble.
Here's hoping many more of you catch up to my butterflies sooner or later...
Have I ever stopped to openly thank my blog readers? No, I don't think so. Now is as good a time as any to do so. I don't have to wait for the six-month mark.
Thank you. Todah rabah. Merci. Gracias.
When a person starts a blog for whatever reason, he/she is writing in a vacuum...because that's what cyberspace really is: one, big, gaping hole. Your words are tossed out to float around, sometimes endlessly, without a true destination.
I visualize a post like a butterfly -- some are very beautiful, others ordinary, some are unique-looking. But for every butterfly that flutters around, there has to be a flower upon which it'll settle, or there has to be someone out there to catch the butterfly with a net. We send our butterflies out to the world, not always knowing if they're caught, but surprisingly thankful when they are.
"Happiness is as a butterfly, which when pursued, will fly away, but which when you sit quietly will alight upon your shoulder."
I'm very happy with my butterflies; no doubt some of you are too. I've even noticed new visitors to the butterfly garden, visitors who've linked my efforts to theirs. What a beautiful butterfly garden each one of us can cultivate on our own or as part of an ensemble.
Here's hoping many more of you catch up to my butterflies sooner or later...
Monday, May 23, 2005
It's All Relative
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I'm not going to reveal my maiden name or my married name. But I'll tell you that my maiden name is a German name, although my roots are Polish. I know several people with the same last name, although their roots are Hungarian. And then there are those with the same last name, whose roots are actually German.
My married name is a Hebrew name and my husband likes to joke and say that the name was shortened from ____ovitch -- he was born Ashkenazi, but they shortened the last name and he became Sefardic. I will say that through marriage I share the same family name as some big Hollywood producer. Are we related through marriage? Don't know, but if he has a job for me as a writer or even as a studio gofer, then yeah, okay, we're related...
Are you like me? If you travel, or even if you don't travel but just check out phone numbers online, do you look for your own name in a foreign phone book? Don't know what attracts someone to do that, but I do know it is a common curious habit of people. Perhaps it's just natural curiosity, perhaps it's somewhat of a power trip to know that there are more of you in the world.
In the same respect, a few years ago someone told me that she GOOGLEd my name; at the time, I wasn't as Internet literate as I am today, especially because I was an ASK JEEVES junkie. I had no clue what GOOGLE was or what she'd meant when she said she'd GOOGLEd me. When she explained that she inputted my name and saw items that came up, I had to see for myself. Wow, I was famous. I was actually listed and some genealogical correspondence I'd had with someone was linked to the listing, as were reader tips I'd sent in to a magazine, as was a contest suggestion.
Over time, my egotistical self learned to GOOGLE combinations of my name; name and maiden name; name and married name; name and maiden name + married name; name of my blog. Suddenly I'm "computer famous," I realize. I'm listed under all those name combinations.
So I figure that I soon I won't be checking my name out in phone books any longer. GOOGLE meets my needs just fine...for now. One day, perhaps, I can work my way into a Who's Who In... book. But how will I list my name for that entry: given and maiden name; given and maiden and married name; or given and married name?
Guess it's all relative...
I'm not going to reveal my maiden name or my married name. But I'll tell you that my maiden name is a German name, although my roots are Polish. I know several people with the same last name, although their roots are Hungarian. And then there are those with the same last name, whose roots are actually German.
My married name is a Hebrew name and my husband likes to joke and say that the name was shortened from ____ovitch -- he was born Ashkenazi, but they shortened the last name and he became Sefardic. I will say that through marriage I share the same family name as some big Hollywood producer. Are we related through marriage? Don't know, but if he has a job for me as a writer or even as a studio gofer, then yeah, okay, we're related...
Are you like me? If you travel, or even if you don't travel but just check out phone numbers online, do you look for your own name in a foreign phone book? Don't know what attracts someone to do that, but I do know it is a common curious habit of people. Perhaps it's just natural curiosity, perhaps it's somewhat of a power trip to know that there are more of you in the world.
In the same respect, a few years ago someone told me that she GOOGLEd my name; at the time, I wasn't as Internet literate as I am today, especially because I was an ASK JEEVES junkie. I had no clue what GOOGLE was or what she'd meant when she said she'd GOOGLEd me. When she explained that she inputted my name and saw items that came up, I had to see for myself. Wow, I was famous. I was actually listed and some genealogical correspondence I'd had with someone was linked to the listing, as were reader tips I'd sent in to a magazine, as was a contest suggestion.
Over time, my egotistical self learned to GOOGLE combinations of my name; name and maiden name; name and married name; name and maiden name + married name; name of my blog. Suddenly I'm "computer famous," I realize. I'm listed under all those name combinations.
So I figure that I soon I won't be checking my name out in phone books any longer. GOOGLE meets my needs just fine...for now. One day, perhaps, I can work my way into a Who's Who In... book. But how will I list my name for that entry: given and maiden name; given and maiden and married name; or given and married name?
Guess it's all relative...
A Whole New World
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I can show you the world
shining shimmering splendid
Tell me princess now when did you last let your heart decide?
I can open your eyes
Take you wonder by wonder
Over sideways and under
On a magic carpet ride.
A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming
A whole new world
A dazzing place
I never knew
But now from way up here
It's crystal clear
That now I'm in a
whole new world with you.
Unbelievable sights
Indescribable feeling
Soaring tumbling free wheeling
Through an endless diamond sky.
A whole new world
A hundred thousand things to see
I'm like a shooting star
I've come so far
I can't go back
to where I used to be.
A whole new world
With new horizons to pursue
I'll chase them anywhere
There's time to spare
Let me share this whole new world with you.
A whole new world
That's where we'll be
A thrilling chase
A wondrous place
For you and me.
When I married, "A Whole New World," the theme song from the movie Aladdin was to be "our" song. Because I had a mixed crowd at my wedding, we were only going to have mixed dancing after the meal and after bensching when a lot of people disappear.
When we spoke to the bandleader, we told him that he could not have a female singer, and so he told us that he wasn't certain our choice song would work. So he asked for any other songs we might want.
The wedding was beautiful and very "leibedik" with LOTS of shtick being performed for hubby and I. And the speeches were very nice -- of course, I felt the need to speak and used lots of publishing and book analogies to describe my husband and our "courtship."
The evening was nearing its end, the eating and bensching had been done...and it was time for our song....
Well, turns out our song was not to be and second choice won out: "It Had To Be You."
Well, eleven and a half years later, it still is "him" and every day of our marriage is "a whole new world."
******
Everyone has a fantasy world of their own. My fantasy world includes a lot of singing. In my world, my wedding would have seen me at a piano in the middle of the dance floor, spotlight on me and me playing and singing -- serenading, really -- to my husband Stevie Wonder's "Ribbon in the Sky." The lyrics are beautiful, the music is beautiful.
Oh, well, some fantasies are better left as fantasies...
I can show you the world
shining shimmering splendid
Tell me princess now when did you last let your heart decide?
I can open your eyes
Take you wonder by wonder
Over sideways and under
On a magic carpet ride.
A whole new world
A new fantastic point of view
No one to tell us no
Or where to go
Or say we're only dreaming
A whole new world
A dazzing place
I never knew
But now from way up here
It's crystal clear
That now I'm in a
whole new world with you.
Unbelievable sights
Indescribable feeling
Soaring tumbling free wheeling
Through an endless diamond sky.
A whole new world
A hundred thousand things to see
I'm like a shooting star
I've come so far
I can't go back
to where I used to be.
A whole new world
With new horizons to pursue
I'll chase them anywhere
There's time to spare
Let me share this whole new world with you.
A whole new world
That's where we'll be
A thrilling chase
A wondrous place
For you and me.
When I married, "A Whole New World," the theme song from the movie Aladdin was to be "our" song. Because I had a mixed crowd at my wedding, we were only going to have mixed dancing after the meal and after bensching when a lot of people disappear.
When we spoke to the bandleader, we told him that he could not have a female singer, and so he told us that he wasn't certain our choice song would work. So he asked for any other songs we might want.
The wedding was beautiful and very "leibedik" with LOTS of shtick being performed for hubby and I. And the speeches were very nice -- of course, I felt the need to speak and used lots of publishing and book analogies to describe my husband and our "courtship."
The evening was nearing its end, the eating and bensching had been done...and it was time for our song....
Well, turns out our song was not to be and second choice won out: "It Had To Be You."
Well, eleven and a half years later, it still is "him" and every day of our marriage is "a whole new world."
******
Everyone has a fantasy world of their own. My fantasy world includes a lot of singing. In my world, my wedding would have seen me at a piano in the middle of the dance floor, spotlight on me and me playing and singing -- serenading, really -- to my husband Stevie Wonder's "Ribbon in the Sky." The lyrics are beautiful, the music is beautiful.
Oh, well, some fantasies are better left as fantasies...
Saturday, May 21, 2005
More than Words
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I work for a publishing company that is rather big on philanthropy: medical causes, educational causes, women's causes, among others. Two years ago they began a program in which our readers/ our authors submit nominations of people who are working on behalf of a cause or have started a foundation, etc. A company panel reads the letters and chooses five winners. Each winner receives $10,000 U.S. on behalf of their charity/cause and then our company has one of our better-known writers write a story, a fictionalized depiction of the person and their cause. The five stories are then published in an anthology and sold.
http://www.eharlequin.com/cms/charity/moreThanWords.jhtml
Yesterday, we had a company meeting; one of this year's recipients was there to talk about her cause -- Melissa's Living Legacy Foundation.
http://www.teenslivingwithcancer.org/about/mllf.asp
Her daughter, Melissa, who died of cancer a few years back was the inspiration for her starting a cause. This group tries to raise funds to help teens living with cancer. They recently started a web site that attracts countless teens who are looking for medical information, for support systems, for new friends.
What is astounding to learn is that teens are sort of the forgotten population when it comes to being treated for cancer. They are usually treated in pediatric hospitals or in adult hospitals. But they are neither children nor adults--their needs are different than the other two categories, and as many of them are undergoing major life/hormonal changes, it is a truly difficult time to be diagnosed or treated for cancer.
I listened to this mother, thought about her living hell with a sick daughter and the subsequent hell that has become her life since her daughter passed away. But I also thought of the good that she has done since her daughter's passing.
Yesterday morning I had a massive headache when I woke up; to sit in the audience and listen to this mother and try to hold back the tears that wanted to plummet down (yes, I meant to use that verb) my cheeks built up the pressure in my head and made my headache worse. But I knew that my headache pain was only temporary. Melissa's mother's pain is not.
********
I sat there and thought about young people I knew, whom I went to high school with who were stricken with cancer and didn't make it. And I thought about young people I didn't know, but knew about, who also succumbed to their cancers.
Ariel Chaim Avrech was one of those young people. He is the reason that I will be going to California -- I will be attending the second annual Ariel Chaim Avrech Yahrzeit lecture.
And from what I've learned about Ariel, I know that he left behind a living legacy of "More than Words."
I work for a publishing company that is rather big on philanthropy: medical causes, educational causes, women's causes, among others. Two years ago they began a program in which our readers/ our authors submit nominations of people who are working on behalf of a cause or have started a foundation, etc. A company panel reads the letters and chooses five winners. Each winner receives $10,000 U.S. on behalf of their charity/cause and then our company has one of our better-known writers write a story, a fictionalized depiction of the person and their cause. The five stories are then published in an anthology and sold.
http://www.eharlequin.com/cms/charity/moreThanWords.jhtml
Yesterday, we had a company meeting; one of this year's recipients was there to talk about her cause -- Melissa's Living Legacy Foundation.
http://www.teenslivingwithcancer.org/about/mllf.asp
Her daughter, Melissa, who died of cancer a few years back was the inspiration for her starting a cause. This group tries to raise funds to help teens living with cancer. They recently started a web site that attracts countless teens who are looking for medical information, for support systems, for new friends.
What is astounding to learn is that teens are sort of the forgotten population when it comes to being treated for cancer. They are usually treated in pediatric hospitals or in adult hospitals. But they are neither children nor adults--their needs are different than the other two categories, and as many of them are undergoing major life/hormonal changes, it is a truly difficult time to be diagnosed or treated for cancer.
I listened to this mother, thought about her living hell with a sick daughter and the subsequent hell that has become her life since her daughter passed away. But I also thought of the good that she has done since her daughter's passing.
Yesterday morning I had a massive headache when I woke up; to sit in the audience and listen to this mother and try to hold back the tears that wanted to plummet down (yes, I meant to use that verb) my cheeks built up the pressure in my head and made my headache worse. But I knew that my headache pain was only temporary. Melissa's mother's pain is not.
********
I sat there and thought about young people I knew, whom I went to high school with who were stricken with cancer and didn't make it. And I thought about young people I didn't know, but knew about, who also succumbed to their cancers.
Ariel Chaim Avrech was one of those young people. He is the reason that I will be going to California -- I will be attending the second annual Ariel Chaim Avrech Yahrzeit lecture.
And from what I've learned about Ariel, I know that he left behind a living legacy of "More than Words."
Thursday, May 19, 2005
I've Got That Holiday Feeling
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My brain has gone on vacation -- WITHOUT MY BODY!
I'm still in Toronto, but my head is in California, specifically Los Angeles and Beverly Hills.
What's it doin' there, you ask?
I guess it's casin' the joint, checking things out until my body can join it in a few weeks' time.
It's MAPQUESTing and GOOGLEing and doing that kind of research stuff, just so when I get there, my body will know what to do and where to go.
My brain already knows who I'm going to meet when I'm in LA-LA Land: at least three fellow bloggers, and perhaps some commenters, too. My brain isn't quite sure, though, what to do now that it has that information. Right now my brain is telling me I should be excited about these face-to-face encounters...and I am. I will be meeting people with whom I exchange playful banter, heartfelt emotions and serious thoughts. Hopefully they will see that I am the same in person as I am on a computer screen. Will I give them any reason to think any less of me when the words I speak are not tapped away on a keyboard, but come from my mouth? I can't make a comment and then hit a DELETE key; everything I say -- and do -- will be the equivalent of the PUBLISH key.
Hey, I think my brain is visiting Hollywood Boulevard as I'm typing this. It already checked out West Pico. Hey, brain, wait for me....
I'll let you people know when my body has arrived to meet my brain.
My brain has gone on vacation -- WITHOUT MY BODY!
I'm still in Toronto, but my head is in California, specifically Los Angeles and Beverly Hills.
What's it doin' there, you ask?
I guess it's casin' the joint, checking things out until my body can join it in a few weeks' time.
It's MAPQUESTing and GOOGLEing and doing that kind of research stuff, just so when I get there, my body will know what to do and where to go.
My brain already knows who I'm going to meet when I'm in LA-LA Land: at least three fellow bloggers, and perhaps some commenters, too. My brain isn't quite sure, though, what to do now that it has that information. Right now my brain is telling me I should be excited about these face-to-face encounters...and I am. I will be meeting people with whom I exchange playful banter, heartfelt emotions and serious thoughts. Hopefully they will see that I am the same in person as I am on a computer screen. Will I give them any reason to think any less of me when the words I speak are not tapped away on a keyboard, but come from my mouth? I can't make a comment and then hit a DELETE key; everything I say -- and do -- will be the equivalent of the PUBLISH key.
Hey, I think my brain is visiting Hollywood Boulevard as I'm typing this. It already checked out West Pico. Hey, brain, wait for me....
I'll let you people know when my body has arrived to meet my brain.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Long Ago, and Oh So Far Away...
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Nostalgia time (aka blog filler time)!
When I was a young kid I watched some good shows, and even better movies.
My earliest 1960s TV memories, aside from the variety TV shows the Lawrence Welk Show, the Ed Sullivan Show (family nights for both of them), Wonderful World of Disney, the Red Skelton Show, the Jackie Gleason Show were the sitcoms The Mothers-in-Law; the Phyllis Diller Show. I was pretty young when they were around, but remember them.
As for my memories of early movies, I loved Ma and Pa Kettle films, the Marx Brothers movies, Bob Hope ("Going Down the Road") movies, Westerns, Disney movies, Shirley Temple movies, Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movies.("C'mon gang, let's go put on a musical!") The list goes on, the memories go on...and life goes on.
Tell me what early TV/movie memories you have.
Nostalgia time (aka blog filler time)!
When I was a young kid I watched some good shows, and even better movies.
My earliest 1960s TV memories, aside from the variety TV shows the Lawrence Welk Show, the Ed Sullivan Show (family nights for both of them), Wonderful World of Disney, the Red Skelton Show, the Jackie Gleason Show were the sitcoms The Mothers-in-Law; the Phyllis Diller Show. I was pretty young when they were around, but remember them.
As for my memories of early movies, I loved Ma and Pa Kettle films, the Marx Brothers movies, Bob Hope ("Going Down the Road") movies, Westerns, Disney movies, Shirley Temple movies, Mickey Rooney/Judy Garland movies.("C'mon gang, let's go put on a musical!") The list goes on, the memories go on...and life goes on.
Tell me what early TV/movie memories you have.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Something's Fishy
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I've read blogs that have shared recipes, so I'm going to share one here. I guarantee that you bloggers who try it or pass it on to your wives to make will be surprised by how easy and tasty a recipe this is.
Take one store-bought, freezer section's gefilte fish loaf, and let it thaw enough so that you can slice it. Once sliced, dunk slices one at a time in matzoh meal or bread crumbs so that complete slice is covered. (sometimes I have to give slices a light and quick rinse under water before placing it in the crumbs, so that crumbs stick). Then slowly pan-fry with little or no oil till side is browned; turn over and repeat.
Serve warm or cold.
Children may not eat gefilte fish, but they certainly eat these gefilte fish patties. Can be eaten with horseradish, ketchup, mayonnaise or nothing. I like topping my slices with babaganoush!
Be'teavon. Enjoy. The hostess will no doubt be fishin' for compliments when all is said and done -- I mean EATEN.
I've read blogs that have shared recipes, so I'm going to share one here. I guarantee that you bloggers who try it or pass it on to your wives to make will be surprised by how easy and tasty a recipe this is.
Take one store-bought, freezer section's gefilte fish loaf, and let it thaw enough so that you can slice it. Once sliced, dunk slices one at a time in matzoh meal or bread crumbs so that complete slice is covered. (sometimes I have to give slices a light and quick rinse under water before placing it in the crumbs, so that crumbs stick). Then slowly pan-fry with little or no oil till side is browned; turn over and repeat.
Serve warm or cold.
Children may not eat gefilte fish, but they certainly eat these gefilte fish patties. Can be eaten with horseradish, ketchup, mayonnaise or nothing. I like topping my slices with babaganoush!
Be'teavon. Enjoy. The hostess will no doubt be fishin' for compliments when all is said and done -- I mean EATEN.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Fade to "Twilight Zone" Music
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Someone up there is trying to tell me something...in a most subtle way. I think it's time to stop being on the Internet so much, reading others' blogs, writing my own, and commenting on blogs when moved to do so.
For the past fifteen minutes, I was scanning down the list of favorite blogs I've marked via shortcuts on my home computer. Funnily enough, I could access everyone else's, but not my own! As many times as I tried, I was met with a blank screen.
I finally managed to get in through the Blogger site and felt the need to record this Twilight Zone event.
Okay....everyone all together now; follow the bouncing ball: "Doodoo doo doo, doodoo doo doo..." ("Twilight Zone" theme song; if you don't understand the "bouncing ball" reference, then that's pretty sad, too. Just think pre-Karaoke days...)
Someone up there is trying to tell me something...in a most subtle way. I think it's time to stop being on the Internet so much, reading others' blogs, writing my own, and commenting on blogs when moved to do so.
For the past fifteen minutes, I was scanning down the list of favorite blogs I've marked via shortcuts on my home computer. Funnily enough, I could access everyone else's, but not my own! As many times as I tried, I was met with a blank screen.
I finally managed to get in through the Blogger site and felt the need to record this Twilight Zone event.
Okay....everyone all together now; follow the bouncing ball: "Doodoo doo doo, doodoo doo doo..." ("Twilight Zone" theme song; if you don't understand the "bouncing ball" reference, then that's pretty sad, too. Just think pre-Karaoke days...)
Sideways
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I am not much of a film-goer, and if I do see a film, generally it's a family film. Yes, I love animation and computer graphics and usually think the work is brilliant and so realistic. I have no shame in admitting even kids' movie soundtracks can have me crying, and trying to hide the tears from my kids and hubby as soon as the theater house lights come up.
Recently we rented two DVD's -- one for family/kids' entertainment and one for grown-up entertainment (I figured "adult entertainment" doesn't sound so nice.) The family film was Shark Tale http://www.sharktale.com/ -- we all enjoyed it, although there were no real laugh-out-loud moments for anyone. I, however, laughed when my five-year-old asked me in the middle of the film, "Where's Nemo?" Guess he's seen one animated film too many!
I am fascinated by the graphics animation and the myriad details that go into making a film such as this. The characterization and physical traits of the voice-over actors (Robert De Niro, Martin Scorcese, Will Smith, Angelina Jolie for examples) are so closely linked, I can't help but smile inwardly as I think how the many fine nuances of these actors have been captured on-screen for the audience. Of course, children wouldn't recognize this, but we adults do, and are most appreciative of what we're viewing.
Many of these children's animated films are truly grown-up films -- the jokes, the innuendos, the references are tangible for us, if not for children. But they are seeking their own reasons for considering it a good film. Shark Tale passed the test for this family, young and old(er)!
Once the kids were in their beds for the night, hubby and I had tuned in to the second feature, Sideways. My husband had already seen the film at the theater with a male friend several months earlier, but wanted to rent it for me to watch. Am I ever glad he did!
Although slow-moving, it was a brilliant film -- in its casting, in its story line, in its setting, in its photography, in its characterization, in its story within a story, along with the insights to fine wines: wine-tasting, bouquets, clarity, flavor, aging, etc.
Perhaps had I seen the film in a theater, I might have found it more slow-moving, but in the comfort of our family room, with the chance to lounge on the sofa, I found it satisfying, and what I call to be "a thinking man's movie." There's a lot of introspection being done by one of the main characters, and although it's not him who is supposed to be taking a metaphorical journey before marriage, but just leading the way, he also becomes a passenger as he explores his past, present and future relationships and examines himself and his qualities against those of other characters.
This film is quirky and simple and was just right for my husband and I to enjoy -- it's not often that we're both agreeable on viewing a film. I'm pleased that Sideways was one film that we could agree on!
I am not much of a film-goer, and if I do see a film, generally it's a family film. Yes, I love animation and computer graphics and usually think the work is brilliant and so realistic. I have no shame in admitting even kids' movie soundtracks can have me crying, and trying to hide the tears from my kids and hubby as soon as the theater house lights come up.
Recently we rented two DVD's -- one for family/kids' entertainment and one for grown-up entertainment (I figured "adult entertainment" doesn't sound so nice.) The family film was Shark Tale http://www.sharktale.com/ -- we all enjoyed it, although there were no real laugh-out-loud moments for anyone. I, however, laughed when my five-year-old asked me in the middle of the film, "Where's Nemo?" Guess he's seen one animated film too many!
I am fascinated by the graphics animation and the myriad details that go into making a film such as this. The characterization and physical traits of the voice-over actors (Robert De Niro, Martin Scorcese, Will Smith, Angelina Jolie for examples) are so closely linked, I can't help but smile inwardly as I think how the many fine nuances of these actors have been captured on-screen for the audience. Of course, children wouldn't recognize this, but we adults do, and are most appreciative of what we're viewing.
Many of these children's animated films are truly grown-up films -- the jokes, the innuendos, the references are tangible for us, if not for children. But they are seeking their own reasons for considering it a good film. Shark Tale passed the test for this family, young and old(er)!
Once the kids were in their beds for the night, hubby and I had tuned in to the second feature, Sideways. My husband had already seen the film at the theater with a male friend several months earlier, but wanted to rent it for me to watch. Am I ever glad he did!
Although slow-moving, it was a brilliant film -- in its casting, in its story line, in its setting, in its photography, in its characterization, in its story within a story, along with the insights to fine wines: wine-tasting, bouquets, clarity, flavor, aging, etc.
Perhaps had I seen the film in a theater, I might have found it more slow-moving, but in the comfort of our family room, with the chance to lounge on the sofa, I found it satisfying, and what I call to be "a thinking man's movie." There's a lot of introspection being done by one of the main characters, and although it's not him who is supposed to be taking a metaphorical journey before marriage, but just leading the way, he also becomes a passenger as he explores his past, present and future relationships and examines himself and his qualities against those of other characters.
This film is quirky and simple and was just right for my husband and I to enjoy -- it's not often that we're both agreeable on viewing a film. I'm pleased that Sideways was one film that we could agree on!
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