It's March 8, still winter here, but closer to spring on a daily basis. The snows come, the snows go, the frost comes and goes, the sun comes out and hopefully stays... But soon enough, give or take another 8 weeks, more hints of spring will be in the air.
For this blogger, spring in Toronto does not just mean: no snow boots, lightweight jackets, basketball in the driveway; laundry hanging on the outside wash line; playing in the park with my kids. Spring in Toronto means that little plastic cones can be found in neighborhoods throughout the city and its outskirts. These little plastic cones are markers; they shout "Step right up this way. Movie production in progress." Little plastic cones are associated with "Hollywood North"; "Hollywood North" refers to Toronto, a center for movie-making; and movie-making is associated with Pearl having stars in her eyes.
Can't help it -- I've always been fascinated by celebritydom and life beneath that great big Hollywood sign. And no, it's not because I especially care to move and mingle with those same people who get to walk the red carpet on Emmy Award Night or Oscar Night. It's because I want to see these people on a human level -- I want to say hi and see if they return the greeting, perhaps stop to chat. I want to know what makes them tick, what attributes (hidden or displayed) make them as common as you or I.
Now I must momentarily interrupt my ramblings with a personal message to a fairly new friend of mine, a friend who takes the time from a very busy personal and business schedule to read Pearlies of Wisdom. A friend who lives in L.A. and works in "the industry." Yes, I have stars in my eyes, but that is certainly not why I'm your friend. Knowing you does not get me closer to Hollywood, nor do I want to be closer to Hollywood. I like knowing that not everything in Hollywood is artificial, based on facades and masquerades. Life in Hollywood can be gritty, can keep you grounded, can bring to the forefront very human qualities. I could say of myself, "Enquiring minds want to know..." but it's certainly not gossip mill fodder that I want to know; I do not want to know what it's like to work with this celebrity or that celebrity; I do not want to know what these celebrities' home exteriors are like, or which designer boutiques they shop at. I would, however, like to know if these celebrities are decent people, moral people...even everyday kind of people when not working on a television or movie deal.
Okay, now back to your regularly scheduled program...
Okay, so we're up to Toronto, to spring in Toronto, to movie making in spring in Toronto, to stars in Pearl's eyes -- sound about right? Anyhow, I was probably in my late teens when I first realized what a movie trailer looked like, and once I first realized their presence around town, I always kept my eyes open, especially when I was downtown. If I was with a friend, she'd have to grab me by the arm, so I wouldn't make any side trips down a back street when I'd spot several rental trucks and long trailers with little windows in them that signified change rooms for the actors. My friends knew that if they didn't grab me, I was a goner...!
While on a hiatus -- see, I even know the lingo! -- from jury duty some years ago, I was walking in an area, saw some of these trailers...and sort of hovered. And to my luck, along came Robert Urich, jogging past and smiling at me.
Another time, I was with friends at a health juice bar downtown, sitting at an old-fashioned counter on swivel seats, when I looked around the room...and spotted Matthew Broderick sitting two stools away from me. I called over the owner of the place, and whispered, "Is that Matthew Broderick?" He said yes, and told me that Matthew was in the place almost every night after filming -- the movie "The Freshman" with Marlon Brando. I asked him if he wouldn't mind asking Matthew if I could approach him for an autograph -- see I was polite. My insides were yelling, "Just go, just go and don't ask anybody else," but my decent side was pacifying me and saying, "Be menschlich. Maybe he doesn't want to be intruded upon." Well, I got the green light to approach Matthew, and two minutes later, actor Bruno Kirby, also in "The Freshman" came along and sat on the other side of Matthew, so I got to converse with both, leaving my girlfriends to ogle and think how "brave" I was. This is how brave I was -- I asked Matthew, "So what's it like working with the big guy?" Only after the words escaped, I realized how they must've sounded -- I was implying how was it to work with such a well-known actor, with a lot of movie history behind him. But it was probably coming across as "What's it like to work with that big, flabby, out of shape, no longer good-looking actor?"
I've met a couple other, lesser known celebrities while they were filming around the city. Yes, they were polite enough...so they passed my simple test and got a gold star beside their names, when they signed autographs for me. Looking back, I wonder where those autographs have gone. What was seemingly so important at that moment in time is a lost scrap of paper today.
Yes, I still look for those orange cones around the city, but learned from experience last year that even orange cones don't always mean what they say. My work window looks out onto a parking lot, and last summer we watched a buzz of activity one afternoon. Lots of cars coming and going, trucks parking, equipment being taken out from the trucks and transferred into the on-site garage. My mind started churning and wondering, "What movie are they filming? I wonder who's in it." I couldn't wait until the end of the workday.
I hurried across the parking lot, and went up to one of the guys standing at the back of the truck, a truck that obviously held wardrobe changes. I asked him, "So what movie is being filmed? Which great actor is there in the garage?"
I received a lopsided grin in return. "We're not shooting a movie. It's a commercial. A soup commercial."
Uh, I think I won't be so quick to jump to conclusions anymore when I see "movie trucks". But I will still be keeping my eyes open for those orange cones...
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
I Dug Deep in My Last Post, but Now I've Caved...!
Those of you who have been kind enough to read my blog over the last little while will look at this title, will look at the layout of my blog page...and ought to understand.
Sorry, folks. I'm as fickle as they come.
Sorry, folks. I'm as fickle as they come.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Diggin' Deep
I've said it before and I'll say it again: One of my favorite blogs to read is that of A Simple Jew -- http://asimplejew.blogspot.com. In his simplicity, he is most eloquent; he says more by saying less. Recently, in his wisdom, he touched upon timing and coincidences.
At some point in our lives, we each encounter an incident that leaves us gaping in wonder -- Can you believe that just happened? I don't believe it! Wow, this is 'min ha-shamayim.' Most of us have more than one incident that we can recall falling into this category of "timeliness." Here is just one of mine...
Since 1983 I've been a volunteer with the Toronto Jewish Archives cataloging committee. That means that I've had the pleasure of meeting one night a month for much of the year with a group of varied individuals, and we talk as we sort through files of Jewish agencies and organizations, files of reknowned Jewish Toronto figures, files that have yellowed with age, become water-stained, dog-eared and the like. It is like the Cairo genizah -- a receptacle of the history of Jewish Toronto and the province of Ontario. And it has been my pleasure all these years to sit with these people as we transfer and sort files into acid-free file folders, identify people in photographs, label files, etc. I have always been the youngest volunteer member of the committee, so I get to hear from the older volunteers the personal stories of growing up Jewish in this city. I'm getting an "insider's look" at the way the city was (my parents were immigrants in 1949 and 1956, giving me a later version of the city's history), and as is said, "The pleasure is all mine."
The files we look through are varied, some drier than others. But several years ago, for quite some time, we worked on cataloguing the JIAS (Jewish Immigrant Aid Society) files -- we were working in particular on those files in which people were applying to sponsor relatives from abroad to come to Canada, to Toronto. They were primarily files from the mid- to late 1940's, after WW2.
It was very sad to review these applications and see names of people and the write-ups of their experiences in the war -- which camps they were interned in, which ghettos they escaped from, occupations before the wars, names of family members before the war. Although sad to read, the files were also captivating.
One night, I picked up a handful of these files, to sort through their contents and transfer the items. One file caught my eye: it had my maiden name and a woman's first name, her Jewish name. Now, I have an aunt who lives in the U.S. but used to live in Toronto after the war, and although I know her by her English name, the name on the file was the same as my aunt's Jewish name. Hesitating, I opened up the file, and began to scan one document. Address of named client; occupation of named client; length of time in Canada of named client and person she wanted to sponsor. None of it rang any bells for me. I moved on to another document. Same client name, occupation, and in this document, some time had passed. Then I saw the name of the person this client wished to sponsor: it was my father. This client was in fact my aunt, my father's sister, who was the other sole survivor of his family. She had come to Canada before him and was now looking to sponsor him. His personal story, some of which I hadn't known, was briefly outlined in the application.
I'm sorry to say this was no reunion story, but it was one of those "stop, take a breath and stare in wonder" stories. How is it that I, Pearl _____, happened to be at Archives that night, happened to pick up a file with my family name, and it happened to be about my family? Had anyone else in the room picked it up, they wouldn't have brought my attention to it because they really knew me only on a first-name basis, and the family name would have rang no bells for anyone else, either. I had just attained another small piece in my family puzzle, and I was thrilled with it. I got permission to photocopy the file and to share it with my parents, with my father in particular.
The contents of that file provided me with some missing links, and that file has since become part of my personal "genizah"!
At some point in our lives, we each encounter an incident that leaves us gaping in wonder -- Can you believe that just happened? I don't believe it! Wow, this is 'min ha-shamayim.' Most of us have more than one incident that we can recall falling into this category of "timeliness." Here is just one of mine...
Since 1983 I've been a volunteer with the Toronto Jewish Archives cataloging committee. That means that I've had the pleasure of meeting one night a month for much of the year with a group of varied individuals, and we talk as we sort through files of Jewish agencies and organizations, files of reknowned Jewish Toronto figures, files that have yellowed with age, become water-stained, dog-eared and the like. It is like the Cairo genizah -- a receptacle of the history of Jewish Toronto and the province of Ontario. And it has been my pleasure all these years to sit with these people as we transfer and sort files into acid-free file folders, identify people in photographs, label files, etc. I have always been the youngest volunteer member of the committee, so I get to hear from the older volunteers the personal stories of growing up Jewish in this city. I'm getting an "insider's look" at the way the city was (my parents were immigrants in 1949 and 1956, giving me a later version of the city's history), and as is said, "The pleasure is all mine."
The files we look through are varied, some drier than others. But several years ago, for quite some time, we worked on cataloguing the JIAS (Jewish Immigrant Aid Society) files -- we were working in particular on those files in which people were applying to sponsor relatives from abroad to come to Canada, to Toronto. They were primarily files from the mid- to late 1940's, after WW2.
It was very sad to review these applications and see names of people and the write-ups of their experiences in the war -- which camps they were interned in, which ghettos they escaped from, occupations before the wars, names of family members before the war. Although sad to read, the files were also captivating.
One night, I picked up a handful of these files, to sort through their contents and transfer the items. One file caught my eye: it had my maiden name and a woman's first name, her Jewish name. Now, I have an aunt who lives in the U.S. but used to live in Toronto after the war, and although I know her by her English name, the name on the file was the same as my aunt's Jewish name. Hesitating, I opened up the file, and began to scan one document. Address of named client; occupation of named client; length of time in Canada of named client and person she wanted to sponsor. None of it rang any bells for me. I moved on to another document. Same client name, occupation, and in this document, some time had passed. Then I saw the name of the person this client wished to sponsor: it was my father. This client was in fact my aunt, my father's sister, who was the other sole survivor of his family. She had come to Canada before him and was now looking to sponsor him. His personal story, some of which I hadn't known, was briefly outlined in the application.
I'm sorry to say this was no reunion story, but it was one of those "stop, take a breath and stare in wonder" stories. How is it that I, Pearl _____, happened to be at Archives that night, happened to pick up a file with my family name, and it happened to be about my family? Had anyone else in the room picked it up, they wouldn't have brought my attention to it because they really knew me only on a first-name basis, and the family name would have rang no bells for anyone else, either. I had just attained another small piece in my family puzzle, and I was thrilled with it. I got permission to photocopy the file and to share it with my parents, with my father in particular.
The contents of that file provided me with some missing links, and that file has since become part of my personal "genizah"!
Sign Sign, Everywhere a Sign
En route to work today, I noticed an interesting sign alongside a ramp to get onto a highway. The sign said: WAIT FOR GAP. Now I know what it means, but I wondered if people didn't quite get it, they might stand at that piece of road and wait and wait until a GAP store is built onsite.
And then I thought of another sign I've seen that's made me wonder. I travel down the world's longest north-south street, Yonge Street, and there is an intersection with lights and streets running east-west. The east side has Church Avenue; the west side has Churchill Avenue. WHAT?? Did Toronto's roadworks department decide to change the street name midway, or did they start with Churchill Avenue, and then run out of enough paint for the east side's name and stopped at Church?
And yes, there is a church on the north-east corner, at Church Avenue. That's funny, I haven't see any "Shul Boulevard, "Temple Road" or "Synagogue Crescent" anywhere in the city.
Has anyone out there noticed any odd street signs that deserve a mention here?
And then I thought of another sign I've seen that's made me wonder. I travel down the world's longest north-south street, Yonge Street, and there is an intersection with lights and streets running east-west. The east side has Church Avenue; the west side has Churchill Avenue. WHAT?? Did Toronto's roadworks department decide to change the street name midway, or did they start with Churchill Avenue, and then run out of enough paint for the east side's name and stopped at Church?
And yes, there is a church on the north-east corner, at Church Avenue. That's funny, I haven't see any "Shul Boulevard, "Temple Road" or "Synagogue Crescent" anywhere in the city.
Has anyone out there noticed any odd street signs that deserve a mention here?
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Ayelet, the Kosher Komic
I came home a short while ago after seeing this comedienne. May I suggest an evening out for you ladies, if Ayelet hits your town. You won't be sorry--she's quick, she's entertaining, she will strike a chord and you will laugh at her humor, and those bits of yourself that you recognize.
I've had the pleasure to see and enjoy Ayelet's show, contacted her today (Monday, March 7) to tell her about my mention of her on my blog, and she had this to say:
Pearl,
A few more "pearlies" of my own...
If I am not going to be in someone's area, they can order my CD online through my website: www.kosherkomedy.com
Also, please feel free to give my name and information to any organizations you feel might want to have me perform for their Rosh
Chodesh events, fund-raisers, or any function, world-wide. I travel constantly and am always looking for fun new places to which to
bring simcha and laughter!
And one last thing... There is an amazing opportunity to do hachnassas kallah, and I am pasting the email I got from my friend (who
I mentioned in my show - Yissroel Chaim Michael ben Breindel, who is a crunchy-granola alternative healer and orthodox spiritual guy
aged 39, still looking for his zivug as well!)
Tizki l'mitzvos!!!
Ayelet
******************
Dear Friends, amv's
I am calling upon you to enroll you all in a GREAT Mitzvah.
Rabbanit Chaya Klein of Rechovot, Israel is an Almanah and a mother of a large family K"H. I have taken it upon myself to raise the
money for the wedding of her son Yitzchak. IY"H by Pesach I hope to have $5000 USD to be alotted for the night of the Chassanah. I
ask you all to please join with me in opening your hearts to sharing in this joyous Mitzvah of Simchas Chosson V'Kallah.
Please be as generous as you can and share this with as many people as you can. B"H all of you have come through for me before in
terms of matters of Tzedakah and I have no doubt that you will now.
Please make ***TAX DEDUCTIBLE*** Canadian cheques out to VMM, and US cheques to Congregation Binyan Olem.
Send to:
Micha (Larry) Braun
5785 Sir Walter Scott, #303,
Cote Saint Luc, Quebec,
H4W 1S4, Canada
Anyone in Israel, please just contact me and we will see about gathering the money there, and where to send it.
MichaBraun
(514) 488-8039
Please feel free to contact me at any time for clarification about this or anything else.
Thank you again my friends, and Tizku L'mitzvos, U L'Masim Tovim, U L'Shanim Rabot!
Comedienne keeps her comedy kosher
By DAVE GORDON
Special to The CJN
Take a dollop of Jackie Mason, a dash of Jerry Seinfeld and a healthy serving of Lucille Ball’s wackiness and you have the recipe for the comedic stylings of Ayelet, an up-and-coming Jewish comic.
Like Cher and Madonna, she only goes by one name professionally. (Her last name is Ben Har.) But unlike those other entertainers, the 20something comic is completely family friendly – she doesn’t swear, tell dirty jokes or talk about sex – and, as a strictly observant Jew, she only performs in front of women.
Known as the “Kosher Komic,” she touts herself as the only “strictly kosher” comedienne in the world.
“Most comics today are not in any way clean. Jewish humour, kosher humour, is difficult, but somehow Hashem has helped me find the way to be funny and clean,” says Ayelet, who lives in Jerusalem’s Old City.
Her latest world tour runs from February to April and hits London, Toronto and the east and west coasts of the United States. She is scheduled to perform at the BAYT synagogue in Thornhill on Sunday, March 6, at 8 p.m.
Her set includes routines about children, Pesach, diets and quirky occasions in Jewish life. She also pokes fun at Britney Spears’ newfound kashrut observance and kvetches about her misadventures with shadchanim (matchmakers) – “I’ve contacted 165 shadchanim in nine different states, four different countries and personally seen over 75 of them, all in nine months.”
But she is perhaps best known among her fans for her tongue-in-cheek shtick called “Glatt Kosher Airlines.”
“All of our flights are numbered 613… Gentlemen, I hope you can hear me through the mechitzah. My voice has been altered for your protection… Should there be, chas v’chalila, a rapid change in cabin pressure, from the panel above your head will fall a Sefer Tehillim [Psalms]. Please say your own tehillim first, prior to assisting a small child, elderly passenger or recent baal tshuvah seated next to you.”
Ayelet wasn’t always what she calls the “ultra-Orthodox girl with bulletproof stockings.”
She’s been a performer for about 10 years, having bounced between New York and Los Angeles as an actress and appeared on HBO, Comedy Central and Lifetime Television, as well as on Sesame Street and The Division.
She began doing stand-up five years ago in “treif” comedy clubs across New York and Los Angeles – including such well-known comedy institutions as The Improv, Laugh Factory and the Comedy Store – before becoming observant 21/2 years ago.
She only revived her career in its new, more conservative form last year while performing in front of seminary girls in Jerusalem. She has since entertained haredi women, as well as more modern crowds – she appeared last month at a café in Jerusalem’s Baka neighbourhood, followed by a performance the following night in a private living room in the haredi Jerusalem neighbourhood of Har Nof.
“People have always told me I am very funny. I just took a while to get my courage together and get up on stage to make people laugh. But once I was up there, there was no getting me down.”
Ayelet currently works for two Jewish outreach organizations, Aish HaTorah and Isralight, where she first “found the beauty and truth in Torah, and a terrific, meaningful life.”
Ayelet has performed at seminaries, in living rooms and at shul fundraisers – but only for women.
“I have been in showbiz in the secular world. I’ve performed in front of mixed crowds, men and women. I’ve come to a point in my life where I feel that it would be most modest of me to perform only in front of women,” she says.
In doing so, Ayelet has given many observant Jewish women their first opportunity to see stand-up comedy.
Many observant Jews don’t have televisions and don’t go to movies, mostly due to sexual and violent content, thereby limiting their entertainment choices, she explains.
Ayelet says she looks up to Rachel Factor, an Orthodox Jewish convert and former Rockette who is touring with a one-woman show called JAP.
“She is an amazing Jewish woman and a terrific performer,” Ayelet says. “She has transformed her whole life and is now doing what she loves and making Jewish women happy.”
Ayelet’s CD is available at select locations, or at www.kosherkomedy.com.
I've had the pleasure to see and enjoy Ayelet's show, contacted her today (Monday, March 7) to tell her about my mention of her on my blog, and she had this to say:
Pearl,
A few more "pearlies" of my own...
If I am not going to be in someone's area, they can order my CD online through my website: www.kosherkomedy.com
Also, please feel free to give my name and information to any organizations you feel might want to have me perform for their Rosh
Chodesh events, fund-raisers, or any function, world-wide. I travel constantly and am always looking for fun new places to which to
bring simcha and laughter!
And one last thing... There is an amazing opportunity to do hachnassas kallah, and I am pasting the email I got from my friend (who
I mentioned in my show - Yissroel Chaim Michael ben Breindel, who is a crunchy-granola alternative healer and orthodox spiritual guy
aged 39, still looking for his zivug as well!)
Tizki l'mitzvos!!!
Ayelet
******************
Dear Friends, amv's
I am calling upon you to enroll you all in a GREAT Mitzvah.
Rabbanit Chaya Klein of Rechovot, Israel is an Almanah and a mother of a large family K"H. I have taken it upon myself to raise the
money for the wedding of her son Yitzchak. IY"H by Pesach I hope to have $5000 USD to be alotted for the night of the Chassanah. I
ask you all to please join with me in opening your hearts to sharing in this joyous Mitzvah of Simchas Chosson V'Kallah.
Please be as generous as you can and share this with as many people as you can. B"H all of you have come through for me before in
terms of matters of Tzedakah and I have no doubt that you will now.
Please make ***TAX DEDUCTIBLE*** Canadian cheques out to VMM, and US cheques to Congregation Binyan Olem.
Send to:
Micha (Larry) Braun
5785 Sir Walter Scott, #303,
Cote Saint Luc, Quebec,
H4W 1S4, Canada
Anyone in Israel, please just contact me and we will see about gathering the money there, and where to send it.
MichaBraun
(514) 488-8039
Please feel free to contact me at any time for clarification about this or anything else.
Thank you again my friends, and Tizku L'mitzvos, U L'Masim Tovim, U L'Shanim Rabot!
Comedienne keeps her comedy kosher
By DAVE GORDON
Special to The CJN
Take a dollop of Jackie Mason, a dash of Jerry Seinfeld and a healthy serving of Lucille Ball’s wackiness and you have the recipe for the comedic stylings of Ayelet, an up-and-coming Jewish comic.
Like Cher and Madonna, she only goes by one name professionally. (Her last name is Ben Har.) But unlike those other entertainers, the 20something comic is completely family friendly – she doesn’t swear, tell dirty jokes or talk about sex – and, as a strictly observant Jew, she only performs in front of women.
Known as the “Kosher Komic,” she touts herself as the only “strictly kosher” comedienne in the world.
“Most comics today are not in any way clean. Jewish humour, kosher humour, is difficult, but somehow Hashem has helped me find the way to be funny and clean,” says Ayelet, who lives in Jerusalem’s Old City.
Her latest world tour runs from February to April and hits London, Toronto and the east and west coasts of the United States. She is scheduled to perform at the BAYT synagogue in Thornhill on Sunday, March 6, at 8 p.m.
Her set includes routines about children, Pesach, diets and quirky occasions in Jewish life. She also pokes fun at Britney Spears’ newfound kashrut observance and kvetches about her misadventures with shadchanim (matchmakers) – “I’ve contacted 165 shadchanim in nine different states, four different countries and personally seen over 75 of them, all in nine months.”
But she is perhaps best known among her fans for her tongue-in-cheek shtick called “Glatt Kosher Airlines.”
“All of our flights are numbered 613… Gentlemen, I hope you can hear me through the mechitzah. My voice has been altered for your protection… Should there be, chas v’chalila, a rapid change in cabin pressure, from the panel above your head will fall a Sefer Tehillim [Psalms]. Please say your own tehillim first, prior to assisting a small child, elderly passenger or recent baal tshuvah seated next to you.”
Ayelet wasn’t always what she calls the “ultra-Orthodox girl with bulletproof stockings.”
She’s been a performer for about 10 years, having bounced between New York and Los Angeles as an actress and appeared on HBO, Comedy Central and Lifetime Television, as well as on Sesame Street and The Division.
She began doing stand-up five years ago in “treif” comedy clubs across New York and Los Angeles – including such well-known comedy institutions as The Improv, Laugh Factory and the Comedy Store – before becoming observant 21/2 years ago.
She only revived her career in its new, more conservative form last year while performing in front of seminary girls in Jerusalem. She has since entertained haredi women, as well as more modern crowds – she appeared last month at a café in Jerusalem’s Baka neighbourhood, followed by a performance the following night in a private living room in the haredi Jerusalem neighbourhood of Har Nof.
“People have always told me I am very funny. I just took a while to get my courage together and get up on stage to make people laugh. But once I was up there, there was no getting me down.”
Ayelet currently works for two Jewish outreach organizations, Aish HaTorah and Isralight, where she first “found the beauty and truth in Torah, and a terrific, meaningful life.”
Ayelet has performed at seminaries, in living rooms and at shul fundraisers – but only for women.
“I have been in showbiz in the secular world. I’ve performed in front of mixed crowds, men and women. I’ve come to a point in my life where I feel that it would be most modest of me to perform only in front of women,” she says.
In doing so, Ayelet has given many observant Jewish women their first opportunity to see stand-up comedy.
Many observant Jews don’t have televisions and don’t go to movies, mostly due to sexual and violent content, thereby limiting their entertainment choices, she explains.
Ayelet says she looks up to Rachel Factor, an Orthodox Jewish convert and former Rockette who is touring with a one-woman show called JAP.
“She is an amazing Jewish woman and a terrific performer,” Ayelet says. “She has transformed her whole life and is now doing what she loves and making Jewish women happy.”
Ayelet’s CD is available at select locations, or at www.kosherkomedy.com.
Pugs Are Pigs...in Just Another Form
Our pug, Tyson, has had quite a bit said about him in this blogger's pages. Last week, I tried even to make a shidduch between him and Lizzie, some beautiful bitch on the STACEY'S SHMATA blog page. She's an older canine, a much-taller canine, and she's probably already gone through the dog-o-paws stage, so I can't really see puppies in Tyson's future...at least not with Lizzie.
But who'd want Tyson anyhow? He snores...big-time. He snorts like a pig...big-time. He passes wind...big-time. For a small guy, he's got a paunch belly...big-time. He wants to eat...all the time. And when he's not eating, not passing wind, he's sleeping and snoring the day away.
Every now and again -- today was again -- he tries to clear his sinuses. It's sort of worse than his snoring. Can you imagine an old man who unfortunately forgot some of his manners, and he's continually trying to clear his throat of phlegm? Well, that's Tyson...old boy. Maybe he thinks he's human, and at the shvitz at a health club with a dozen retirees, shooting the breeze -- literally and figuratively -- and trying to clear, like them, his nasal/throat passages.
I never did mention before that Tyson is a convert -- he went from being Roman Catholic Italian, to Modern Orthodox Jewish. No, we didn't take him to the mikvah for conversion purposes, but we did stick him in the laundry tub two years ago when he was adopted by us, and douse him with water -- we dunked him three times, but couldn't figure out which bracha to say, so we just declared: "Today you are a Jew...mazel tov."
He turned eight last week -- we hope he makes it to thirteen -- I've envisioned having a bark-mitzvah for him. Not sure what kind of d'var Torah he'd give, but everyone would wish a mazel tov and say "Canine hora! Canine hora!"
So if anyone out there has a dog they'd like to breed with a pig -- oops, I mean a pug -- contact me. Maybe we can make a shidduch.... It'd be nice to post a simcha sooner than later on www.frumster.com or www.onlysimchas.com!
But who'd want Tyson anyhow? He snores...big-time. He snorts like a pig...big-time. He passes wind...big-time. For a small guy, he's got a paunch belly...big-time. He wants to eat...all the time. And when he's not eating, not passing wind, he's sleeping and snoring the day away.
Every now and again -- today was again -- he tries to clear his sinuses. It's sort of worse than his snoring. Can you imagine an old man who unfortunately forgot some of his manners, and he's continually trying to clear his throat of phlegm? Well, that's Tyson...old boy. Maybe he thinks he's human, and at the shvitz at a health club with a dozen retirees, shooting the breeze -- literally and figuratively -- and trying to clear, like them, his nasal/throat passages.
I never did mention before that Tyson is a convert -- he went from being Roman Catholic Italian, to Modern Orthodox Jewish. No, we didn't take him to the mikvah for conversion purposes, but we did stick him in the laundry tub two years ago when he was adopted by us, and douse him with water -- we dunked him three times, but couldn't figure out which bracha to say, so we just declared: "Today you are a Jew...mazel tov."
He turned eight last week -- we hope he makes it to thirteen -- I've envisioned having a bark-mitzvah for him. Not sure what kind of d'var Torah he'd give, but everyone would wish a mazel tov and say "Canine hora! Canine hora!"
So if anyone out there has a dog they'd like to breed with a pig -- oops, I mean a pug -- contact me. Maybe we can make a shidduch.... It'd be nice to post a simcha sooner than later on www.frumster.com or www.onlysimchas.com!
Saturday, March 05, 2005
The Big Fat Worm
No -- nothing subliminal here; no double entendres intended.
************************************************************
The Big Fat Worm is the name of a wonderful children's picture book, written by Nancy Van Laan. When I bought it some years ago for my oldest, who's now 9 1/2, I thought it was somewhat reminiscent of the infamous Pesach song, "Chad Gadya" with its repetition and rhythm. See if you don't agree with me. (and hopefully I won't be caught with copyright infringement)
A big fat bird found a big fat worm
and the big fat bird said
HI WORM
and the big fat worm said
HI BIRD
and the big fat bird said
I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat worm said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat bird said
OH YES I AM
and the worm said NO
and the bird said YES
and the worm disappeared
down a hole in the ground...
when along came a big fat cat.
The big fat cat said HI BIRD
and the big fat bird said HI CAT
and the big fat cat said I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat bird said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat cat said
OH YES I AM
and the bird said NO
and the cat said YES
and the bird flew far far away...
when along came a big fat dog.
The big fat dog said HI CAT
and the big fat cat said
HI DOG
and the big fat dog said
I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat cat said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat dog said
OH YES I AM
and the cat said NO
and the dog said YES
and the cat scooted up a tall tall tree.
So the big fat dog ran all the way home
where he dug and he dug and he pulled up a bone
and he chewed and he chewed and he chewed.
And the big fat cat came down to the ground
and he looked all around and he walked all around
and he yawned and he fell sound asleep.
Then the big fat bird spinning round and around
flying high in the sky swooped down to the ground
where she found something big,
something fat,
something round
and the big fat bird said HI WORM!
************************************************************
The Big Fat Worm is the name of a wonderful children's picture book, written by Nancy Van Laan. When I bought it some years ago for my oldest, who's now 9 1/2, I thought it was somewhat reminiscent of the infamous Pesach song, "Chad Gadya" with its repetition and rhythm. See if you don't agree with me. (and hopefully I won't be caught with copyright infringement)
A big fat bird found a big fat worm
and the big fat bird said
HI WORM
and the big fat worm said
HI BIRD
and the big fat bird said
I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat worm said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat bird said
OH YES I AM
and the worm said NO
and the bird said YES
and the worm disappeared
down a hole in the ground...
when along came a big fat cat.
The big fat cat said HI BIRD
and the big fat bird said HI CAT
and the big fat cat said I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat bird said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat cat said
OH YES I AM
and the bird said NO
and the cat said YES
and the bird flew far far away...
when along came a big fat dog.
The big fat dog said HI CAT
and the big fat cat said
HI DOG
and the big fat dog said
I'M GOING TO EAT YOU UP
and the big fat cat said
OH NO YOU'RE NOT
and the big fat dog said
OH YES I AM
and the cat said NO
and the dog said YES
and the cat scooted up a tall tall tree.
So the big fat dog ran all the way home
where he dug and he dug and he pulled up a bone
and he chewed and he chewed and he chewed.
And the big fat cat came down to the ground
and he looked all around and he walked all around
and he yawned and he fell sound asleep.
Then the big fat bird spinning round and around
flying high in the sky swooped down to the ground
where she found something big,
something fat,
something round
and the big fat bird said HI WORM!
Thursday, March 03, 2005
All Booked Up
I'm sitting at the computer in our home office and pondering the eclectic collection of books on the shelf beside me.
For instance, here's one pile, and from bottom to top, there is:
1. Usted y yo -- that was my grade 10 Spanish book, used many lunas ago, in school.
2. Home Buying Strategies for Resale Homes [did we use any of the strategies when we bought our two homes? I think not.]
3. Why We Love the Dogs We Do
4. The Jewish Pleasure Principle
5. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People [do they list my bad habits, I wonder]
6. The Business Writer's Handbook
7. How To Clean Practically Anything [man, that book is gathering dust!]
8. How To Succeed in Your Home Business
9. After Long Silence [ a powerful memoir about the secrets that held one family together in a bond of silence for more than four decades. Hint: author was raised Roman Catholic, and only as an adult, did she discover her parents were Jewish, Holocaust survivors living invented lives.]
10. A Dictionary of Textile Terms [referred to in the prelim pages as "the new language of fabrics." Now why we even have this book at all is beyond me.]
11. Waters of Babylon [short stories written by my girlfriend's father, describing his life in Bagdad, Iraq, before his family moved to Israel. This is an autographed copy, and as well, I have a credit in the book, as I helped with the editing of this vanity press book.]
12. Webster's Thesaurus
13. Parenting Wit and Wisdom [no, I did not write that book]
Yes, this is certainly a random gathering on one shelf. Another bookshelf on the opposite wall houses an assortment of cookbooks on one shelf and a collection of benschers gathered from many simchas over the years on another shelf.
Our home is certainly a house of books --- children's books, business books, reference books, cookbooks, coffee table books (but we have no coffee tables, so they're just "shelved books"), parenting books, educational books and Jewish and religious books.
But with our last move, I had to lose some of the amassed novels and outdated reference books because of space allowance. Saying goodbye to a book is sometimes like saying goodbye to a friend. First you offer a quick hello (when you don't recall that you even had read the book, so you skim the pages) and then a quick goodbye -- and move on.
I even have a few autographed books with personal messages -- Canadian poet Irving Layton's poetry collection For My Brother Jesus, Herman Wouk's The Hope, Mordecai Richler's Joshua Then and Now, to name a few. These books will remain treasured friends, and I will continue to make room for them in my life -- and on my bookshelf!
For instance, here's one pile, and from bottom to top, there is:
1. Usted y yo -- that was my grade 10 Spanish book, used many lunas ago, in school.
2. Home Buying Strategies for Resale Homes [did we use any of the strategies when we bought our two homes? I think not.]
3. Why We Love the Dogs We Do
4. The Jewish Pleasure Principle
5. The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People [do they list my bad habits, I wonder]
6. The Business Writer's Handbook
7. How To Clean Practically Anything [man, that book is gathering dust!]
8. How To Succeed in Your Home Business
9. After Long Silence [ a powerful memoir about the secrets that held one family together in a bond of silence for more than four decades. Hint: author was raised Roman Catholic, and only as an adult, did she discover her parents were Jewish, Holocaust survivors living invented lives.]
10. A Dictionary of Textile Terms [referred to in the prelim pages as "the new language of fabrics." Now why we even have this book at all is beyond me.]
11. Waters of Babylon [short stories written by my girlfriend's father, describing his life in Bagdad, Iraq, before his family moved to Israel. This is an autographed copy, and as well, I have a credit in the book, as I helped with the editing of this vanity press book.]
12. Webster's Thesaurus
13. Parenting Wit and Wisdom [no, I did not write that book]
Yes, this is certainly a random gathering on one shelf. Another bookshelf on the opposite wall houses an assortment of cookbooks on one shelf and a collection of benschers gathered from many simchas over the years on another shelf.
Our home is certainly a house of books --- children's books, business books, reference books, cookbooks, coffee table books (but we have no coffee tables, so they're just "shelved books"), parenting books, educational books and Jewish and religious books.
But with our last move, I had to lose some of the amassed novels and outdated reference books because of space allowance. Saying goodbye to a book is sometimes like saying goodbye to a friend. First you offer a quick hello (when you don't recall that you even had read the book, so you skim the pages) and then a quick goodbye -- and move on.
I even have a few autographed books with personal messages -- Canadian poet Irving Layton's poetry collection For My Brother Jesus, Herman Wouk's The Hope, Mordecai Richler's Joshua Then and Now, to name a few. These books will remain treasured friends, and I will continue to make room for them in my life -- and on my bookshelf!
Here Comes the Sun...
March 3. Toronto. Middle of winter. Sun is shining. Sun is shining very brightly. Sun is blinding. Sun is blinding me as I drive in to work. Blinding sun makes me think...
People tend to complain every which way.
It's winter, there's too much snow, I wish it would let up. So what does it do? IT RAINS. Bring back the snow, people cry out.
It's gray outside, murky and miserable-looking. I wish it would be sunny for once. Okay, so it's sunny. It's too sunny. It's blinding drivers and pedestrians on the road. They are just accidents waiting to happen. I want gloomy again, people say.
It's been a dry season. I wish it would rain. The heavens hear, open up, and pound the earth with torrential rains, the skies with jagged lightning and cracks of thunder. Are we on our way to build an ark? Too much rain, they complain.
I wish it were warmer. I'm tired of wearing a jacket or sweater outside. The heat comes, the heat stays, it's too hot...it's unbearable. Damn, I'm tired of the heat, and I'm catching a cold from sitting in front of the air conditioner and fan all day.
Now I think one thing we wouldn't complain about is happiness. 'Cause too much happiness is a very good thing, and one would be inclined to share it with others.
[Now, for all you folks who wonder why I didn't put "money" into any equation, the reason is simple. People complain without money, people still complain with money, and I've seen and heard that too much money is not necessarily a good thing. Just think like this: all the money in the world might get you some good medical care, but it won't save you when you've been given a "deadline" on life.]
People tend to complain every which way.
It's winter, there's too much snow, I wish it would let up. So what does it do? IT RAINS. Bring back the snow, people cry out.
It's gray outside, murky and miserable-looking. I wish it would be sunny for once. Okay, so it's sunny. It's too sunny. It's blinding drivers and pedestrians on the road. They are just accidents waiting to happen. I want gloomy again, people say.
It's been a dry season. I wish it would rain. The heavens hear, open up, and pound the earth with torrential rains, the skies with jagged lightning and cracks of thunder. Are we on our way to build an ark? Too much rain, they complain.
I wish it were warmer. I'm tired of wearing a jacket or sweater outside. The heat comes, the heat stays, it's too hot...it's unbearable. Damn, I'm tired of the heat, and I'm catching a cold from sitting in front of the air conditioner and fan all day.
Now I think one thing we wouldn't complain about is happiness. 'Cause too much happiness is a very good thing, and one would be inclined to share it with others.
[Now, for all you folks who wonder why I didn't put "money" into any equation, the reason is simple. People complain without money, people still complain with money, and I've seen and heard that too much money is not necessarily a good thing. Just think like this: all the money in the world might get you some good medical care, but it won't save you when you've been given a "deadline" on life.]
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Popcorn...Peanuts...Comments... Get Your Comments...
Okay, let me be a carnival barker for this.
I have an inventory of posts...and because of that inventory, I need you to get your comments...to me! Aside from my faithful few -- whom I know about -- does anyone actually read this blog?
You probably don't appreciate it when you get phone calls appealing for donations/pledges to causes that you might or might not want to support. How do you get rid of these callers? You either make a donation, and they thank you and don't call you again until the next quarter, or you tell them you're too busy, you're not interested, you already gave.
I haven't been getting enough donations -- read comments -- to satisfy me, so I'm at it again. Please show me that I'm on the right path with my words. The echo of my voice/words is very loud as it resonates back to me, instead of your words resonating back.
You can peruse my entire inventory; even if you see something you like from back in December, comment on that. I'll read it...and appreciate it. I'll read and appreciate ALL comments.
Wow, I faintly hear the Eagles singing in the background: "Desperado...." (remember Elaine in Seinfeld and how she loved that song...?)
I have an inventory of posts...and because of that inventory, I need you to get your comments...to me! Aside from my faithful few -- whom I know about -- does anyone actually read this blog?
You probably don't appreciate it when you get phone calls appealing for donations/pledges to causes that you might or might not want to support. How do you get rid of these callers? You either make a donation, and they thank you and don't call you again until the next quarter, or you tell them you're too busy, you're not interested, you already gave.
I haven't been getting enough donations -- read comments -- to satisfy me, so I'm at it again. Please show me that I'm on the right path with my words. The echo of my voice/words is very loud as it resonates back to me, instead of your words resonating back.
You can peruse my entire inventory; even if you see something you like from back in December, comment on that. I'll read it...and appreciate it. I'll read and appreciate ALL comments.
Wow, I faintly hear the Eagles singing in the background: "Desperado...." (remember Elaine in Seinfeld and how she loved that song...?)
Even More Food for Thought
[check these out; I relate well to #15 and #17!]
THINGS TO PONDER...(or not)!
1. Can you cry underwater?
2. When I was young we used to go "skinny dipping," now I just
"chunkydunk."
3. How important does a person have to be before they are
considered assassinated instead of just murdered?
4. If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have
branches?
5. Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a
penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going?
6. Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes
you were buried in, for eternity?
7. Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
8. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it
would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
9. Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies
wake up like every two hours?
10. If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a
hearing?
11. Why are you IN a movie, but you are ON TV?
12. Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money
in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
13. How come we choose from just two people for President and
fifty for Miss America?
14. If a 911 operator has a heart attack, whom does s/he call?
15. I signed up for an exercise class and was told to wear
loose-fitting clothing. If I HAD any loose-fitting clothing, I
wouldn't have signed up in the first place!
16. Wouldn't it be nice if whenever we messed up our life we
could simply press 'Ctrl Alt Delete' and start all over?
17. Stress is when you wake up screaming and then you realize you
haven't fallen asleep yet.
18. Just remember...if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.
19. Why is it that our children can't read a Bible in school, but
they can in prison?
20. Brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells live
forever.
THINGS TO PONDER...(or not)!
1. Can you cry underwater?
2. When I was young we used to go "skinny dipping," now I just
"chunkydunk."
3. How important does a person have to be before they are
considered assassinated instead of just murdered?
4. If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have
branches?
5. Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a
penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going?
6. Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes
you were buried in, for eternity?
7. Why does a round pizza come in a square box?
8. How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it
would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?
9. Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies
wake up like every two hours?
10. If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a
hearing?
11. Why are you IN a movie, but you are ON TV?
12. Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money
in binoculars to look at things on the ground?
13. How come we choose from just two people for President and
fifty for Miss America?
14. If a 911 operator has a heart attack, whom does s/he call?
15. I signed up for an exercise class and was told to wear
loose-fitting clothing. If I HAD any loose-fitting clothing, I
wouldn't have signed up in the first place!
16. Wouldn't it be nice if whenever we messed up our life we
could simply press 'Ctrl Alt Delete' and start all over?
17. Stress is when you wake up screaming and then you realize you
haven't fallen asleep yet.
18. Just remember...if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.
19. Why is it that our children can't read a Bible in school, but
they can in prison?
20. Brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells live
forever.
Food for Thought...But Not Peanut-Free
Moroccan Peanut and Tomato Soup (Parve*)
Prep time 20 minutes
Cook time 20 minutes
1 onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp parve margarine
1 can (28 oz/796 ml) tomatoes, crushed or diced
1 cup peanut butter
¼ cup ketchup
¼ cup vinegar
2 Tbsp chili powder
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp hot pepper sauce
1 tsp mustard powder
1 tsp parsley flakes (optional)
2 cups water
¨In a large, heavy pot, cook onion and garlic in margarine until tender.
¨Add remaining ingredients, except water.
¨Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Gradually add water.
¨Simmer for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Makes 8 servings.
Serve with croutons or garlic bread.
*Can also make the soup dairy by sprinkling shredded Parmesan cheese on top of each serving or using dairy margarine.
(Whenever I serve this dish, the tasters are amazed to discover that the magic ingredient is peanut butter. A friend, who is also a restaurateur, was so impressed with the dish, he wanted to add it to his restaurant’s menu. But please, before serving such a dish, check that your guests have no allergies to peanuts!)
Prep time 20 minutes
Cook time 20 minutes
1 onion, finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbsp parve margarine
1 can (28 oz/796 ml) tomatoes, crushed or diced
1 cup peanut butter
¼ cup ketchup
¼ cup vinegar
2 Tbsp chili powder
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp black pepper
1 tsp hot pepper sauce
1 tsp mustard powder
1 tsp parsley flakes (optional)
2 cups water
¨In a large, heavy pot, cook onion and garlic in margarine until tender.
¨Add remaining ingredients, except water.
¨Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Gradually add water.
¨Simmer for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Makes 8 servings.
Serve with croutons or garlic bread.
*Can also make the soup dairy by sprinkling shredded Parmesan cheese on top of each serving or using dairy margarine.
(Whenever I serve this dish, the tasters are amazed to discover that the magic ingredient is peanut butter. A friend, who is also a restaurateur, was so impressed with the dish, he wanted to add it to his restaurant’s menu. But please, before serving such a dish, check that your guests have no allergies to peanuts!)
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
Off-Course Discourse
...and when I sat down to write my last post, I thought it was going to be about my youngest turning 5 years old on Shabbos! Guess that topic became Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken" this evening.
Oh ya, the dog turns 8 tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Tyson! Funny, you don't look a day over 56 (that's supposed to be canine humor, if you didn't catch on)!
Oh ya, the dog turns 8 tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Tyson! Funny, you don't look a day over 56 (that's supposed to be canine humor, if you didn't catch on)!
Truly Blessed
I am blessed with wonderful parents, who have given me all the love in the world...and MORE; who have shown me by example how to be a menschlich person; who have provided me with rules to teach me right from wrong; who have offered and given me more than they themselves ever had. Their love knows no boundaries.
My mother, named for a flower, is a gentle, passive and unassuming woman -- refined in her speech and in her actions. She is "a mother of Pearl." Yes, there is a pun intended, but she also represents beauty, just as abalone does.
Of course there are many many things that stand out in my mind about this wonderful woman, but here is a supreme example of her character. As addicted as I am to receiving e-mails, I've always been addicted to receiving any kind of mail with my name on it, whether it be junk mail, bills or personal letters. When I was in university, I used to call in the afternoons sometimes to say hi to my mom and then I'd ask if I got any mail. One day she responded, "You got a postcard in the mail." I asked, "Who from?" She said she didn't know, that I could see the card when I got home.
Now, a postcard is open territory--no envelope, which makes for no privacy. You can tell the place of its origin from the postage, and sometimes from the postcard itself if there's a photo. And you can also see who signs the card. But my mother did not look closely at the card, did not care that she had every opportunity in the world to read it before I did. She respected my privacy, and this example is something I will never ever forget.
My father, a Holocaust survivor, led a very difficult life from the time he was a young boy and lost his father. Poverty, war, heartbreak and illnesses crossed his path over the years, but somehow I believe he was made stronger and fought harder through difficult personal and health-related situations.
Together with my mother, he has worked long and hard to provide for his family -- a family most welcome after losing his own parents and siblings (except for one, may she live long and be well) -- and to set down strong family, strong moral and strong Torah-friendly roots in Toronto.
To meet my father is to meet a pretty unique individual -- he's charming, not a charmer; he's a Jewish mother and Jewish father rolled into one person; he is one of the most generous, if not the most generous person I know; he is the most selfless person I know -- he will not just figuratively give you the shirt off his back, he will give you the shirt off his back...and according to my mother, apparently once did so for a poor man in downtown Toronto. He is a loving father, a wonderful husband and a sincere and compassionate friend. Whoever meets my father is all the more lucky for it.
Not too long ago a close friend of my parents told me: "I never heard your father say a bad word about anyone." I could vouch for that compliment, and know that "shmirat ha-lashon," or guarding of the tongue, was and still is prevalent in my parents' home.
If anyone needs to carry away one major life tool from his/her parents' home, I think it's that, "shmirat ha-lashon." You carry that lesson to your own home, to your own family, to your dealings with friends, dealings in business and dealings within the community.
Maybe you ought to "borrow" my parents to help teach you right from wrong, to help teach you how to be a better person...to help teach you what it means to truly feel loved. And if you do so, I'm sure you too will feel truly blessed -- as I do.
My mother, named for a flower, is a gentle, passive and unassuming woman -- refined in her speech and in her actions. She is "a mother of Pearl." Yes, there is a pun intended, but she also represents beauty, just as abalone does.
Of course there are many many things that stand out in my mind about this wonderful woman, but here is a supreme example of her character. As addicted as I am to receiving e-mails, I've always been addicted to receiving any kind of mail with my name on it, whether it be junk mail, bills or personal letters. When I was in university, I used to call in the afternoons sometimes to say hi to my mom and then I'd ask if I got any mail. One day she responded, "You got a postcard in the mail." I asked, "Who from?" She said she didn't know, that I could see the card when I got home.
Now, a postcard is open territory--no envelope, which makes for no privacy. You can tell the place of its origin from the postage, and sometimes from the postcard itself if there's a photo. And you can also see who signs the card. But my mother did not look closely at the card, did not care that she had every opportunity in the world to read it before I did. She respected my privacy, and this example is something I will never ever forget.
My father, a Holocaust survivor, led a very difficult life from the time he was a young boy and lost his father. Poverty, war, heartbreak and illnesses crossed his path over the years, but somehow I believe he was made stronger and fought harder through difficult personal and health-related situations.
Together with my mother, he has worked long and hard to provide for his family -- a family most welcome after losing his own parents and siblings (except for one, may she live long and be well) -- and to set down strong family, strong moral and strong Torah-friendly roots in Toronto.
To meet my father is to meet a pretty unique individual -- he's charming, not a charmer; he's a Jewish mother and Jewish father rolled into one person; he is one of the most generous, if not the most generous person I know; he is the most selfless person I know -- he will not just figuratively give you the shirt off his back, he will give you the shirt off his back...and according to my mother, apparently once did so for a poor man in downtown Toronto. He is a loving father, a wonderful husband and a sincere and compassionate friend. Whoever meets my father is all the more lucky for it.
Not too long ago a close friend of my parents told me: "I never heard your father say a bad word about anyone." I could vouch for that compliment, and know that "shmirat ha-lashon," or guarding of the tongue, was and still is prevalent in my parents' home.
If anyone needs to carry away one major life tool from his/her parents' home, I think it's that, "shmirat ha-lashon." You carry that lesson to your own home, to your own family, to your dealings with friends, dealings in business and dealings within the community.
Maybe you ought to "borrow" my parents to help teach you right from wrong, to help teach you how to be a better person...to help teach you what it means to truly feel loved. And if you do so, I'm sure you too will feel truly blessed -- as I do.
Time...Well Spent
I'll be the first to admit: I think I have to open a Toronto branch of Bloggers Anonymous. (ha, what a concept right there!) I have become somewhat addicted to my newfound entertainment medium -- reading blogs, writing comments on some, composing my own posts. I've shirked some of my household and familial responsibilities -- I do get to them, but often later than sooner. So, if anyone wants to start a branch of Bloggers Anonymous, count me in, but don't send me an e-mail about it, or a link, because who knows how long I'll stay online after that??!!
In any case, writing is very therapeutic for me. I was told yesterday that I'm a "terrific letter writer." I'll agree with that compliment, and I'd now like someone to extend it to saying that I'm a "terrific blogger."
Writing letters comes very easily to me, and I can capture lots of images with my words, and often find myself even using vocabulary that I wouldn't normally use in regular conversations. I sense that I am more eloquent on paper.
To that end, I try to do the same with my semi-regular posts. Now, even if it looks like my post is short, and I probably whipped it off in two minutes, the truth is that a typical post (such as this one) can take me up to 30 minutes to formulate, edit, post, and often re-edit. Yes, the words flow, but I try to capture something and therefore think about what I'm trying to say.
Because I work as a copy editor in my non-blogging life, I feel the need to be as correct in my diction and grammar as I can. How would it look to you readers (reader?) if I wnt aheade and spelt evrything incorectly and put punctuation out of it's correct positioning --? When I see those kinds of errors on others' blogs, my hackles go up; I don't want the same reaction when you read my posts.
So yes, I could be doing something more valuable than blogging, but who can put a value on what I consider to be my time...well spent?
In any case, writing is very therapeutic for me. I was told yesterday that I'm a "terrific letter writer." I'll agree with that compliment, and I'd now like someone to extend it to saying that I'm a "terrific blogger."
Writing letters comes very easily to me, and I can capture lots of images with my words, and often find myself even using vocabulary that I wouldn't normally use in regular conversations. I sense that I am more eloquent on paper.
To that end, I try to do the same with my semi-regular posts. Now, even if it looks like my post is short, and I probably whipped it off in two minutes, the truth is that a typical post (such as this one) can take me up to 30 minutes to formulate, edit, post, and often re-edit. Yes, the words flow, but I try to capture something and therefore think about what I'm trying to say.
Because I work as a copy editor in my non-blogging life, I feel the need to be as correct in my diction and grammar as I can. How would it look to you readers (reader?) if I wnt aheade and spelt evrything incorectly and put punctuation out of it's correct positioning --? When I see those kinds of errors on others' blogs, my hackles go up; I don't want the same reaction when you read my posts.
So yes, I could be doing something more valuable than blogging, but who can put a value on what I consider to be my time...well spent?
Monday, February 28, 2005
Oh, Daughter of Mine
About an hour or more ago, I put my daughter to bed. After her Jacuzzi bath and follow-up shower, I'd spent about 45 minutes this evening braiding her hair Bo Derek-style. The mornings are rushed, and besides, I'm usually gone by the time she wakes up, so there's no time for hair niceties done by my hand.
But tonight I offered to make her lots of little braids, and let me tell you, we both needed patience for the task to be completed. She grew restless, I grew restless; she needed to stretch her back, I needed to stretch mine. But the end result was a headful of lovely little braids with colorful elastic bands holding them together.
For once my daughter was not so pouty, and more pleased by my stylistic coifs done on her behalf.
But I knew that by the morning the beautiful braids might become disheveled, with straggling hair hanging here and there. The braids would look unkempt and it would be too time-consuming and difficult for this seven-year-old to be up to the task of "putting her best hair forward!" So we sought a solution to try to keep the braids looking equally good in the morning as they did when she went to bed. She requested that I put a head scarf on her, which I've done before. This was something I did when I was young, coming home from the hairdresser, and wearing a head scarf to bed to try to keep the hairstyle intact.
This evening, however, when I tied the scarf around her braids, in a babushka style, I suddenly thought that my daughter had taken on an Old World look--a look of a Polish peasant, perhaps. Perhaps, I thought, she looked like my aunt must have, when she died at age 15 at the hands of the Nazis. My daughter is named for this aunt, my father's adored youngest sister. Of course, there are no photos that were salvaged from before the war years, so I have no clue what this aunt might have looked like. But I know that her name was Marjem, after her father Meir, who died two months before she was born. She was a source of light to her family.
My daughter's middle name is Meriam, and she too, is sweet and adored, and a source of light for our family, as her great-aunt was to my father's family.
May Marjem rest in peace, and l'havdil, may Meriam live a long, healthy and happy life. Amen.
But tonight I offered to make her lots of little braids, and let me tell you, we both needed patience for the task to be completed. She grew restless, I grew restless; she needed to stretch her back, I needed to stretch mine. But the end result was a headful of lovely little braids with colorful elastic bands holding them together.
For once my daughter was not so pouty, and more pleased by my stylistic coifs done on her behalf.
But I knew that by the morning the beautiful braids might become disheveled, with straggling hair hanging here and there. The braids would look unkempt and it would be too time-consuming and difficult for this seven-year-old to be up to the task of "putting her best hair forward!" So we sought a solution to try to keep the braids looking equally good in the morning as they did when she went to bed. She requested that I put a head scarf on her, which I've done before. This was something I did when I was young, coming home from the hairdresser, and wearing a head scarf to bed to try to keep the hairstyle intact.
This evening, however, when I tied the scarf around her braids, in a babushka style, I suddenly thought that my daughter had taken on an Old World look--a look of a Polish peasant, perhaps. Perhaps, I thought, she looked like my aunt must have, when she died at age 15 at the hands of the Nazis. My daughter is named for this aunt, my father's adored youngest sister. Of course, there are no photos that were salvaged from before the war years, so I have no clue what this aunt might have looked like. But I know that her name was Marjem, after her father Meir, who died two months before she was born. She was a source of light to her family.
My daughter's middle name is Meriam, and she too, is sweet and adored, and a source of light for our family, as her great-aunt was to my father's family.
May Marjem rest in peace, and l'havdil, may Meriam live a long, healthy and happy life. Amen.
"...We're Lost in a Masquerade"
"Are we really happy here
With this lonely game we play
Looking for words to say
Searching but not finding understanding anyway
We're lost in a masquerade..."
Thank you, George Benson, singer/guitarist extraordinaire, for those[hopefully correct]lyrics.
I couldn't help but think of them today after a "conversation" I had with a fellow blogger re. blogging vs. silence.
Many of us have taken names for ourselves via which to blog -- we are keeping our true identities secret from those who know us. But are we in fact remaining secret? So many of us drop enough clues or personal stories that give us away. I never told anyone other than my husband and my children that I blog. But last week, a friend linked to me through a roundabout source in my published article and she had this to say: "Oh my G-d, you're TorontoPearl, you're Pearlies of Wisdom. Why didn't you tell me? (sniff!)" But this friend knows me, knows what's going in my life, knows how I think -- there was really no need for her to read my words and know about my online identity.
But as we bloggers mill about in blogland, I can't help but think of a costume party in which the guests wear elaborate masks to hide their identities from fellow partygoers. Are we not like these guests, wearing our blogging names like masks so that we won't be found out? Yes, it's a bit daring, thrilling even to wear the blogging name and remain incognito, isn't it?
What if we bloggers were to remove those masks, those names, use our real names and say, "I don't have a blog. I have a Web site. Perhaps you'd like to check it out...."
Yes, "...we're lost in a masquerade."
With this lonely game we play
Looking for words to say
Searching but not finding understanding anyway
We're lost in a masquerade..."
Thank you, George Benson, singer/guitarist extraordinaire, for those[hopefully correct]lyrics.
I couldn't help but think of them today after a "conversation" I had with a fellow blogger re. blogging vs. silence.
Many of us have taken names for ourselves via which to blog -- we are keeping our true identities secret from those who know us. But are we in fact remaining secret? So many of us drop enough clues or personal stories that give us away. I never told anyone other than my husband and my children that I blog. But last week, a friend linked to me through a roundabout source in my published article and she had this to say: "Oh my G-d, you're TorontoPearl, you're Pearlies of Wisdom. Why didn't you tell me? (sniff!)" But this friend knows me, knows what's going in my life, knows how I think -- there was really no need for her to read my words and know about my online identity.
But as we bloggers mill about in blogland, I can't help but think of a costume party in which the guests wear elaborate masks to hide their identities from fellow partygoers. Are we not like these guests, wearing our blogging names like masks so that we won't be found out? Yes, it's a bit daring, thrilling even to wear the blogging name and remain incognito, isn't it?
What if we bloggers were to remove those masks, those names, use our real names and say, "I don't have a blog. I have a Web site. Perhaps you'd like to check it out...."
Yes, "...we're lost in a masquerade."
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Ain't It Nice To Imagine....?
As I mentioned once in a post of mine, I live in a beautiful neighborhood that is still being developed with million-dollar homes. Rest assured, mine is not worth anything close to that amount -- we just lucked out with a smaller, older home in a nice subdivision.
About a five minute drive from us is a gated community being developed with million-dollar and two-million-dollar homes. Sometimes when the weather is nicer, we take walks with the dog to view some of the ones still being built. I don't really aspire to live in anything of their grandeur and size, nor could I maintain the upkeep of such palatial homes, nor the expected lifestyle that one would think is associated with such a piece of real estate. But it's nice to look at them all the same.
Today I took my children to see one of these homes: it is the grand prize in a cancer hospital lottery (tickets are $100 each or three for $250) and is worth over two million dollars, furnishings included. To look at this home on the outside is nice; to look at it on the inside is nicer. My children and I went through the rooms and announced who would get which room...if we won(yes, we are ticket purchasers for such a great fund-raising cause).
My heart melted at a second-floor library that surrounded an opening in the floor through which you could look down to the main level. I imagined parts of the shelving holding dear and familiar children's books, other parts holding family photo albums, while others held sforim. And just opposite the library was a small office with rolltop desks; I figured this is a room where I could hone my writing skills even more, write a publishable manuscript and the resulting book would one day end up on those library shelves.
Perhaps it's easier to imagine pretend lives in such a home when there is such a slim chance of winning it. But our walkabout today gave my children great pleasure and opened their minds, their imagination, to great things. They understand that it's okay to partake in this game of make-believe for a short while.
I'm proud that for them the reality kicks in when they announce, "If we win this house, it's going to be a much longer walk to shul!"
About a five minute drive from us is a gated community being developed with million-dollar and two-million-dollar homes. Sometimes when the weather is nicer, we take walks with the dog to view some of the ones still being built. I don't really aspire to live in anything of their grandeur and size, nor could I maintain the upkeep of such palatial homes, nor the expected lifestyle that one would think is associated with such a piece of real estate. But it's nice to look at them all the same.
Today I took my children to see one of these homes: it is the grand prize in a cancer hospital lottery (tickets are $100 each or three for $250) and is worth over two million dollars, furnishings included. To look at this home on the outside is nice; to look at it on the inside is nicer. My children and I went through the rooms and announced who would get which room...if we won(yes, we are ticket purchasers for such a great fund-raising cause).
My heart melted at a second-floor library that surrounded an opening in the floor through which you could look down to the main level. I imagined parts of the shelving holding dear and familiar children's books, other parts holding family photo albums, while others held sforim. And just opposite the library was a small office with rolltop desks; I figured this is a room where I could hone my writing skills even more, write a publishable manuscript and the resulting book would one day end up on those library shelves.
Perhaps it's easier to imagine pretend lives in such a home when there is such a slim chance of winning it. But our walkabout today gave my children great pleasure and opened their minds, their imagination, to great things. They understand that it's okay to partake in this game of make-believe for a short while.
I'm proud that for them the reality kicks in when they announce, "If we win this house, it's going to be a much longer walk to shul!"
Life's a Gamble
While sitting this a.m., waiting for my children to finish their swimming lessons, I listened to the conversations around me and partook as well.
One woman said: "Could I ask you a question...?" It sounded ominous but she wanted to find out what "Kosher" means and why Cheerios may or may not be Kosher. At least she, as a non-Jewish woman, had some basic understanding about Kashrut and understood that we don't mix meat with dairy, and knew that for Pesach we change all our dishes, etc. So I only had to give a crash course in Kashrut.
On the other side of me, were two young Modern Orthodox peer fathers, who were discussing gambling, and going to Vegas or smaller casinos in Ontario, and what games give them a "rush" -- and how much money they would drop at a time, how much they'd come home with as a gain, or as a loss.
I couldn't help but silently give thanks to Hashem that my husband partakes in none of this, nor does he desire to do so. Once upon a time, I thought that the "gadgets" he likes to buy are often thrown-out money, but I'd so much rather he have gadgets and money in the bank, than an empty wallet after a rush at the blackjack table and a losing streak.
One woman said: "Could I ask you a question...?" It sounded ominous but she wanted to find out what "Kosher" means and why Cheerios may or may not be Kosher. At least she, as a non-Jewish woman, had some basic understanding about Kashrut and understood that we don't mix meat with dairy, and knew that for Pesach we change all our dishes, etc. So I only had to give a crash course in Kashrut.
On the other side of me, were two young Modern Orthodox peer fathers, who were discussing gambling, and going to Vegas or smaller casinos in Ontario, and what games give them a "rush" -- and how much money they would drop at a time, how much they'd come home with as a gain, or as a loss.
I couldn't help but silently give thanks to Hashem that my husband partakes in none of this, nor does he desire to do so. Once upon a time, I thought that the "gadgets" he likes to buy are often thrown-out money, but I'd so much rather he have gadgets and money in the bank, than an empty wallet after a rush at the blackjack table and a losing streak.
Friday, February 25, 2005
I Stole Something from A Simple Jew.... Umm, I Mean I Borrowed It.
"...record your inner life in a journal. This will not be something you do to earn immortal fame as an author, but rather engrave your soul-portrait on paper. Write down all your inner struggles, your setbacks and successes, and grant them eternal life. This way your very essence, the personality of your soul, your spiritual attainments, your life's inner treasures, will live on forever in the lives of your spiritual heirs as generations to come and go."
(Piaceszna Rebbe)
Asking forgiveness of fellow blogger A Simple Jew, http://asimplejew.blogspot.com I admit that I stole this posting of his from October 10, 2004. I'm like a comedian who's run out of quality material and has to recycle jokes of yesteryear.
But A Simple Jew knows the right things to say at the right time, the right quotations to cite to bring an awareness to his readers. Even if one of his posts doesn't offer anything more than a word of wisdom from a late, great rebbe, that post is a treasure and food for thought.
This quote from the Piaceszna Rebbe hits home for me as a blogger and as someone who kept a journal for years. My words are markers for my life, recreating or renewing events -- both trivial and major -- for me and any readers with the [good] fortune to read my words.
As the quote says, "...engrave your soul-portrait on paper." Or in this modern-day world, engrave it on a screen, don't forget to hit SAVE and then FILE. And remember, "a picture is worth a thousand words..."
(Piaceszna Rebbe)
Asking forgiveness of fellow blogger A Simple Jew, http://asimplejew.blogspot.com I admit that I stole this posting of his from October 10, 2004. I'm like a comedian who's run out of quality material and has to recycle jokes of yesteryear.
But A Simple Jew knows the right things to say at the right time, the right quotations to cite to bring an awareness to his readers. Even if one of his posts doesn't offer anything more than a word of wisdom from a late, great rebbe, that post is a treasure and food for thought.
This quote from the Piaceszna Rebbe hits home for me as a blogger and as someone who kept a journal for years. My words are markers for my life, recreating or renewing events -- both trivial and major -- for me and any readers with the [good] fortune to read my words.
As the quote says, "...engrave your soul-portrait on paper." Or in this modern-day world, engrave it on a screen, don't forget to hit SAVE and then FILE. And remember, "a picture is worth a thousand words..."
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