Passover... The Circle of Life

Blogroll Me!



Passover is one of those "family" holidays -- eat, drink, sing, read, sleep, eat, drink, sing, read, sleep...and somewhere in the scenario is synagogue and visiting...oh, of course, and MORE EATING.

But Passover is one of those "family" holidays that is based on memory. As we sit in our homes conducting seders and hosting guests, or sit as guests at other seders in other homes, we remember.

We remember the story of the Exodus, and in reading the Haggadah, are retelling the story. Okay, not all of us are actually old enough to remember the actual Exodus, but some of us feel like we were there...or there are so many people who have experienced their own personal exodus--within their families, within their countries and culture.

We remember the seders of years past -- the grandparents and long-gone relatives and the customs they upheld; the sights, sounds and tastes of our seders of yesteryear.

And oftentimes, we remember to give thanks when and if we are all together again for seder. My father and mother joined us for the second seder. A month ago, my father lay in a hospital bed, and we thought it was the end of of him, or at least as we know him. People all over blogland and beyond were praying for his well-being.

When my father and mother arrived on Thursday night at our home, and my father began to climb the many stairs that lead up to my front door, I was elated. I called out that my father should say a "Shehecheyanu"; I knew that I was saying a silent one and meaning it. I was more than thankful that my father and mother were able to join us yet again for seder, that my father was able to partake in the rituals and read portions of the Haggadah to us in his 1920's cheder Hebrew. It was I as a child who would laugh at his foreign-to-me Hebrew pronounciation; it was now my daughter who was laughing at his pronounciation. It was now my two sons who were finding funny-sounding words when they were reading from the Haggadah, and laughing hysterically at the same spots in the Haggadah on both seder nights. And it was me, remembering how I did the same as a child.

Seder = order.
Order = details.
Details = memory.
Memory = family.
Family = holidays.
Holidays = eating.
Eating + Family + Drinking + Reading + Sleeping + Synagogue (repeat) = Passover.

The Circle of Life.

Aha...Foiled Again!

Blogroll Me!

Hey, don't Passover me,
do lend me an eye
'cause if you don't, might just mean
I'll have to start to cry...
*******************************

...so you had a bad day
the knaidels didn't rise
onion juice is
in your eyes...
*******************************

Red, red wine
goes to my head
imagine, in lieu of one
there are now four cups instead...

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

Day-o, day, day day-o
daylight come and me wanna go
back to sleep
(after all, our seders ran very late last night)...

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

Once again I reiterate: Happy Passover to blogging friends near and far. Enjoy your families, enjoy your friends, enjoy your congregations, enjoy your experience -- as if you came out of Egypt, like your forefathers did.

Seder for Bloggers

Blogroll Me!



I have "met" so many new people in the past year-plus of blogging. We are a multi-colored band of people, with varied beliefs, various levels of belief, but our differences make our interactions that much more interesting, that much more unexpected at times.

I propose that we have a Pesach seder for bloggers. In a recent personal correspondence with Danny Miller, he said, "Too bad we can't have a bloggers' seder!"

Danny, is it too bad? Who says it can't be done? It can...

I recommend we have a cyberspace seder...somehow -- and I know some of us will need to use a Shabbos goy to do this -- we all link up from our own homes or wherever else we're having a seder and combine our efforts.

Okay, so a cyberspace seder is not an original idea. Temple Emanuel in NYC already had the idea. And I'm sure there are bloggers out there who are, in fact, hosting bloggers' seders.

Seder = order. Okay, so with bloggers galore around the world all vying for "airtime", perhaps there won't be so much order, but wouldn't it be nice if perhaps:

A Simple Jew would make kiddush.

Ezzie, together with baby Elianna, would sing "Ma Nishtana," the Four Questions, and Cruisin' Mom who, although is 50 in years, is truly 12 years old at heart, would sing it at the same time. (okay, all Orthodox men would have to cover their ears)

When it comes to talking about the four sons, Robert Avrech would read about the wise son.

Any wicked son takers?

Jack could read about the simple son. And no doubt, in his recitation, he'd throw Cleveland in there somehow -- where it talks about G-d taking out of Egypt with a strong hand and freeing us from being slaves. I think he'd add "Cleveland" in there! AND he'd stick Stacey in there, too, ie. freed Stacey from being a slave!

And Jeremiah could read about the son who doesn't yet understand enough to ask questions.

The Ten Plagues could be read by TenLiKoach...just because "ten" is also in her blog's name.

Everybody, everywhere, would sing "Dayenu" together, and we could add a phrase about "If Hashem had given us computers, but had not made us bloggers, it would have been enough for us! If Hashem had made us bloggers, but had not made our cyberpaths cross, it would have been enough for us!"

In general, we would each read from the Haggadah in the language of our choice: American English, Queen's English, Hebrew, Swiss-German, etc. Everyone would take a turn reading from the Haggadah as we worked our way around the room -- um, I mean globe. And if anyone needed any translations, we'd have Sophia on hand to help you out.

And new niggunim/tunes would be taught to us by PsychoToddler and Life of Rubin.

We would, of course, have further discussions given on certain points that we are reading...with some jokes and wonderful stories thrown in for good measure.

And we have a couple of fine doctors who, during the course of the meal, would talk about matzah and how to avoid a backup problem; and eggs, and how to avoid high cholesterol. And their friend Ralphie who would talk about garden sheds and raccoons, and window screens and whales vs. dolphins.

And of course, there would be a kids' table -- many of us bloggers do have children. And there'd be a dogs' table. And a sweet table, open for dessert. (Sweettooth120, why can't I link to you anymore?)

And speaking about dessert, could you imagine the menu that a cyberspace, international seder like ours would have? I'll tell you what, I'll be responsible for the matzoh balls and the gefilte fish. Everyone else, it's a potluck seder...

So, people...this year our seder will be in cyberspace. Next Year in Jerusalem!

Wishing you all a very happy, healthy (& Kosher) Passover. Chag Pesach Kasher v'Sameyach.

EBay, Meet Chametz; Chametz, Meet Ebay

Blogroll Me!

And Now, for Your Listening Pleasure

Blogroll Me!

Rest. Think. Write.

Blogroll Me!




Those were my friend Robert Avrech's words to me. He gave me that advice when I told him that the romance with my company had fizzled out and we'd broken up. I guess there was some of "it's not you, it's me" that led to the breakup. Oh, well, the relationship was nice enough for the most part, as long as it lasted -- 18+ years.

I took Robert's advice.

I was really tired yesterday evening, so I rested.

I've been thinking about the breakup.

And I'm writing about it in this post.

******

You will note that the accompanying photo has really nothing to do with this post. I just saw it and it made me smile.

I will therefore want to make an addendum to Robert's advice and thus this post's title:

Rest. Think. Write. Smile.

The Hebrew Kid Rides Again

Blogroll Me!

Tomorrow is April 4.

Tomorrow, Robert Avrech, half of the publishing team behind Seraphic Press, will have his debut novel, The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden, re-released in paperback form.

Okay, I'm biased. I like this book. I've written about this book before. I'm writing about it again.

Seek it out for yourself. Seek it out to give as a gift. Seek it out...just because.

It's a captivating story -- featuring some great writing from a Hollywood screenwriter-- that endears itself to its readers, both young and old.

Buy it. Read it. Talk about it.

Ariel and Lozen will thank you. Mama and Papa will thank you. And Karen and Robert will thank you.

QUiNn cUmMiNgs

Blogroll Me!

Quinn Cummings. Two words.

Former child star. Presently a mom. And businesswoman.

And funny, funny gal.

Drop in to say hello to "the goodbye girl." After all, she's part of the [blogging] "family."

Ya Ya Yiddish!!

Blogroll Me!



I LOVE YIDDISH.

There, I've said it.

Interestingly enough, I've always thought it to be the most beautiful language in the world because of our cultural history that is translated through its vocabulary. A vocabulary that cannot, in fact, always be translated to English. Some of the words and expressions work in this Germanic/Hebrew mother tongue, but one grasps for the words in English with which to define.
And believe me when I say "Lost in Translation" means much more than an offbeat film title featuring Bill Murray.

Not too long ago I worked on a freelance project -- a book featuring Yiddish curses. OY, OY, and a triple OY. To think that people in the old country -- and new! -- actually threw around some of these wonderful witty sayings is beyond me. Here is a sampling of some of the types of curses people threw/still throw around.

My father, who comes from shtetl-town Poland, hadn't even heard some of the expressions that I questioned him about. He explained that many would be 1) either REALLY old and not in use anymore or 2) they were particular to regions and not widely used

When I surf the Net or seek particular info, I often stumble upon wonderful Web sites that I normally wouldn't read about or hear about.

Tonight, lucky me discovered this site -- and as I was doing other computer work, I listened to bits and pieces of offered radio programs, listed in the GEMS column. I was smiling the whole time.

For me, it's a world gone by that's being depicted. The language has survived, but many of its people have not, which is bittersweet.

Please take a moment to check out the Yiddish Radio Project. Just tell them your Yiddishe Mama sent you...

And for those inquiring minds...no, I never learned Yiddish; my knowledge is pretty good, but it's based on what I've picked up while listening to others speak it. When I open my mouth to speak what I think is German or Swiss, I'm told it's Yiddish I'm speaking.

The Times, They Are A-Changin', aka Spring Forward

Blogroll Me!



Hope you all remembered to walk around your house or your apartment and change your clocks...one hour ahead. Don't forget to do the same on your wristwatches and in your cars!

It's after 2:00 a.m. in Toronto -- that's 3:00 a.m. NEW TIME. I'd better get to sleep....

Sitcom City

Blogroll Me!

I really never watch TV anymore...I'm busy with other things, namely family life -- and computer life. And I know that TV is not what it once was. Reality show after reality show permeate the channels.

Who needs reality TV when...you have real life to contend with? Watch A Birth Story or A Wedding Story or Life in the E.R. Such are reality stories worth watching.

Give me back the sitcoms of my early (1960's) childhood! Okay, today I would deem them VERY STUPID for the most part, but remember, I was innocent then, and almost anything made me laugh.

So for old times' sake, I'm gonna name-drop a bit. See if you remember these...

Petticoat Junction
The Beverly Hillbillies
Green Acres
The Mothers-in-Law
Gilligan's Island
My Three Sons
The Monkees
Hogan's Heroes
I Dream of Jeannie
The Courtship of Eddie's Father
Julia
Bridget Loves Bernie
That Girl!
Bewitched
My Favorite Martian
Gomer Pyle
Andy of Mayberry
The Munsters
I Love Lucy

Battle of the Sexes...or Love, Italian-Style

Blogroll Me!

I linked to this, and sat grinning like a fool throughout watching it.

Apparently, attitudes are international; stereotypes are, too!

Enjoy this...

(Honey, pass me the remote, and why don't you make your own popcorn for a change?)

*2:20 p.m. This joke just in:

A young couple on their wedding night were in their honeymoon suite. As they were undressing for bed, the husband, a big burly man, tossed his trousers to his new bride. He said, "Here, put these on."

She put them on and the waist was twice the size of her body. "I cant wear your trousers," she said.

"Thats right," said the husband, "and don't you ever forget it. I'm the man who wears the pants in this family."

With that she flipped him her panties and said, "Try these on."

He tried them on and found he could only get them on as far as his kneecaps.

"Hell," he said. " I can't get into your panties!"

She replied, "That's right...and that's the way it is going to stay until your attitude changes."

Any Leonard Cohen Fans Out There?

Blogroll Me!



Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Good afternoon,

This May, in all of our Chapters and Indigo stores, we will be celebrating the work and music of Leonard Cohen, including his soon to be launched new book of poetry Book of Longing.

On May 13th, at 4 o'clock, we will have the privilege of hosting Leonard for a very special event, at our flagship Indigo location on Bay and Bloor in Toronto.

We are planning to make the visit a very special tribute to this extraordinary man whose music and writing have touched the heart and soul of so many. As part of the tribute, we would like to present Leonard with a hand-bound book of actual letters and notes from Canadians across the country. And so the reason for this letter.

If you would like to have a personal note or letter, expressing what his work has meant to you, included in this book, please send it to me directly at the following address:

Heather Reisman
Leonard Cohen Tribute Book
Indigo Books & Music, Inc.
468 King Street West, Suite 500
Toronto, ON M5V 1L8

Our commitment is to do our best to include every note we receive by April 15th, in its original form.

Have a great day
Heather Reisman
Chief Booklover

P.S. The first 1,000 people who pre-order Book of Longing on-line will receive a signed first edition copy.
P.P.S. Coincidental with the launch of Book of Longing, his soulmate Anjani will be releasing Blue Alert, a recording of 12 new Leonard Cohen songs. I have heard this CD and it is nothing short of magical. It is available for pre-order at indigo.ca and will be released on May 5th.
+ View Leonard Cohen's Collection

Max Says, "I'm Da Man!"

Blogroll Me!



Dear Bloggers,

First of all, that's not me in the picture above, either. For one, I'm Canadian (Quebecois, in fact) and not American; secondly, I'm not white. I'm black...and proud of it! (But once again, Mom liked the picture and thought I needed a patriotic boost.)

Hi. My name is Max. My mom's name is Pearl, my dad's name is Pearl's husband. My brothers' names are Pearl's boys, my sister's name is Pearl's girl.

How're those for juicy details?

Okay, sorry to do this to you folks, but I don't think I can blog at this time. I promised you photos of me, not some cheap knockoff Mom substituted for me, and stories to tell. But Ralphie offended my sensibilities big-time in that last post of mine. He called my stuff "junk"! It is not junk; it was never junk; it will never be junk.

Ralphie, someone's junk is someone else's treasure...or even family jewels. I protect these family jewels and don't need West Coasters calling them otherwise. Got that, California boy?

Okay, so I'm feeling a little sorry for myself; I thought I'd made it big-time in Blogville, setting up dates with cute beagles named Bella, and comparing notes about Shabbos with other Jewish dogs, and just using up my mom's computer time. But apparently not everyone thinks I'm so good...harrumph...calling my personal belongings junk!

Okay, I've vented enough for now. I've got to go check out Phoebe, that little white cute thing who lives a few houses away. Believe me, it's much easier to have a local relationship with Phoebe than a long-distance one with Bella.

So, I might catch you another time...I might not. Ralphie, do me a favor and go hound another dog! Not me...'cause "I'm Da Man!"

Love, Max

Field of Souls and Stones

Blogroll Me!

Just in case you missed the poem down below...

Today I Am...a Jewish Dog

Blogroll Me!

Dear Readers,

This is not me. This is a cheap, stand-in canine model that my mom, TorontoPearl, found to put on her blog.

She only thinks it looks a lot like me. But I'm much cuter -- I've even been known to stop traffic.

And although I'm thought to be a shih-poo, my mom came home one night after walking me and exclaimed to the family, "Max is not a shih-poo; he's a THREE-POO." (She only thinks I didn't hear that, but if she knew she had offended me, her guilt complex would be bigger than it already is. Currently it stands as the size of Cleveland.)

Right now I'm a bit too lazy to write and tell you about what it means to become...a Jewish dog. I will come back to share my thoughts with you, but in the meantime ponder this: "It's a pain in the canine tuches."

Love, Max (the canine formerly known as Snoopy)

And One More for Good Luck

Blogroll Me!

Much of my poetry over the years has been marked by a sadness, a melancholy or sometimes even a morbid aspect. Why? Guess 'cause much of the time when I wrote my poems I was feeling sorry for myself for one reason or other...but primarily, my poems have been Holocaust-related, and thus profoundly sad at times.

I was just published in Poetica Magazine, a Jewish poetry journal that originates in Virginia. I was notified on New Year's Day 2005 that one of my submitted poems was accepted for publication; it took until the March 2006 issue to see my name in print. (the journal is published 3 times/year).

The published poem is also somewhat sad; its setting is a Jewish cemetery. The poem is about taking my daughter to see my grandfather's grave...and the poem is true. It is just a slice of life -- a day in the life of... -- and I'm more than happy that a poetry editor in Virginia was interested to read about my slice of life, and thought that others would be interested, too.


And One More for Good Luck


It is visiting day at the Roselawn Cemetery.
I take my daughter in hand and go to his grave.
Is it wrong for me to bring a young child to this field of souls and stones?
Is it wrong for me to want her to meet her great-grandfather for the first time?

We stand before the cool granite, shaded by a maple tree.
She asks me to read the headstone.
I slowly recite the familiar words, enunciating slowly and surely so that
perhaps she will understand the meaning behind them.

I’d been a little girl, even younger than she is now,
when he was brought to his final resting place.
Thirty-eight years have passed, and the engraved message is true:
“In our hearts you live forever.”

I put a stone on the arch of the marker. She places a stone beside mine.
I put another one on the smooth granite. She adds another, and another.




“And one more…for good luck,” she exclaims,
and excitedly lifts up a rock she has found,
stretching on tiptoe to place it alongside the other, smaller stones
lined up like soldiers preparing for battle.

We step away and she looks at her artistry, beaming.

“Can I hug it?” The headstone, she means.

I shrug. “Sure, go ahead.”

And as she does so, I decide it’s a Kodak moment, but I’m sans camera
so I’ll have to etch the scene into my memory.

We walk through the cemetery gates,
leaving behind the field of souls and stones.

Later, when asked, “How was the cemetery?”
she says with much enthusiasm, “GREAT!”
And when asked why she wanted to hug the gravestone,
she replies matter-of-factly, “Because I never got to meet him.”


(Oh, and happy birthday to my brother -- you stand tall at 6'4"; you truly do stand head and shoulders above the rest in many more ways. Happy 46th birthday! Love, from your 5' 7 1/2" younger sister.)

"One Moment in Time"

Blogroll Me!



Whitney Houston had a hit with this song several years back.

If each of you could have "one moment in time" to do anything, meet anyone, say anything, recreate anything...the possibilities are endless...how would you use that "one moment in time"?

I would like to see and meet those grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins whom I never got to meet. The grandmothers I'm named for, the aunts my children are named for, all those relatives that died an untimely death.

I guess I'd like to be at the scene of a paternal and maternal family sitting for a portrait...going back to great-grandparents, at least. I would like the names and family relationship details listed over everyone's head.

Given that "one moment in time" I'd be more content, more settled...for all my life, I've felt as if my life were one big jigsaw puzzle, with many of the pieces missing.

OPRAH, Eat Your Heart Out, Girl!

Blogroll Me!



Nu...Oprah....so you think you got it goin' on, dontcha? (okay...you do)

But I know someone else -- rather, somewhere else -- that's got it goin' on, even more than you do.

Seraphic University.

The faculty there is outstanding, the courses vast and varied. The student body is supreme...so supreme in fact that they often know more than the professors.

Take for example, yesterday. The fine students of this institution for higher learning (it's so high, it's said to be heaven-sent) got together with a reading list. A list that goes above and beyond the scope of your offerings, Oprah.

Who really needs the Oprah Book Club, when you can have the Seraphic University Book Club...!?

Coffee and babke are served at every meeting -- a tasty bonus.

So, Oprah, put down the book you're reading -- okay, if it's Elie Wiesel's Night, finish it first! -- and come visit Seraphic University's reading center. You'll be glad you did.

The Sleepover...Is Simply...Over

Blogroll Me!

When I was younger and would go out to Jewish singles' functions, my friends and family would later ask me, "So, did you have a good time?"

Oftentimes my answer was "I had a time."

My son was invited to a sleepover for a friend's birthday. Several boys were invited to help celebrate the boy turning 11. The "event" was supposed to be from 7 p.m. till 10 a.m.

Only problem: It wasn't a sleepover. It was simply an "over."

When I went to pick up my son at 10 a.m., with my other two children in the car, with my great plans to spend a free day (PD Day) off school (and I off work), he very happily told me, "We didn't sleep."

"WHAT!?? What kind of sleepover is that?" I asked aloud.

"We watched a movie, we played Game Cube, we watched another movie, we played more video games..."

"Didn't the parents tell you guys to go to sleep?"

"The father told us that if we were quiet, we could stay up."

Well, I guess the boys were quiet enough -- they stayed up.

So I just want you all to know: I now am the mother of 2 children and a zombie.