Excuses...or Reasons?

Many, many years ago, I attended and graduated from the University of Toronto. The Toronto downtown campus I attended was somewhat prestigious, and you had to submit high school marks of a minimum of 85%, if not more, to be accepted at that campus.

It was a place I always wanted to go; there were no questions about it. And my marks were more than good enough to get accepted.

But once I was on campus and a full-time student, I began to see things in a different light.

"Pearl, why'd you choose U. of T.?"

I couldn't say, "Because they have a great pre-meds program" when I wasn't taking sciences. I couldn't say, "Because my brothers went here and I wanted to go here too," ecause that's a lousy reason.

I found the most entertaining -- and seemingly honest -- response: "I'm here because of the architecture and the squirrels."

University of Toronto has a sprawling campus that exemplifies all types of architecture -- modern, cold stone buildings, and dark, gloomy Gothic buildings with turrets and stained glass windows. This blend of buildings was so appealing to me, as was the overflow of squirrels running rampant across the campus lawns and stone walls.

So was "Because of the architecture and the squirrels" an excuse or a reason? Hmmmm....

In the same way, you hear people/men mostly say "I read PLAYBOY for the articles." Uh-huh, and no doubt these same people are reading between the lines.

For many years I would "read" THE NEW YORKER. I put "read" in quotes, because even though the publication featured some wonderful short stories and fillers and tidbits, the main reason I would peruse the magazine was for the cartoons. That is what sold me on its pages. They are some of the most brilliant wordsmiths who apply themselves to those simple pen and ink lines. My journals from years past are filled with cartoons from THE NEW YORKER, cartoons that made a lasting impression on me, enough to destroy an issue of the magazine and tear something out.

There is truly a fine line between reasons and excuses.

My memberships to CURVES was up at the end of March; my husband encouraged me to rejoin (he encouraged me to join in the first place and the day that I was let go from my job and I called him en route home crying, he told me the best thing I could do was go home, get my workout stuff and go to CURVES for that 30 minute circuit -- he was SO RIGHT!), and I said I would, for sure. We are nearing the end of July and I haven't yet rejoined...for what reasons? Oh, I'll wait till after Pesach....I'll wait till the kids are finished school...I'll wait to see how my father is feeling... These are certainly not reasons, but excuses!

People find themselves in relationships -- whether they are marriages or friendships -- that are troublesome. Yet they continue to linger in these relationships, often wearing themselves down for their troubles. These people think they are giving reasons for remaining with these partners, these friends, but when these reasons are closely examined, they are often discovered to be simple excuses.

If you think about it, excuses generally relate back to "I"; they have to do with something about you -- something you're lacking (perhaps confidence?), something you're afraid of (perhaps retaliation from another person?).

Although this post was originally meant to be light-hearted -- I'd thought I'd just incorporated the reasons for my attending the University of Toronto, along with my reason for reading THE NEW YORKER -- it turned into something heavier. I want you each to examine your reasons for doing or not doing certain things. Examine them closely; decide if they are in fact excuses. Then do something about it...or at least try to.

Stop making excuses for things. Start doing. Don't wait for tomorrow or the next day to start or complete a project. Don't wait for that other person to make the first move -- you take that first step toward them.

You will be happier; you will have a sense of accomplishment; you will know that you didn't sit on your tushy, thinking up reasons --EXCUSES! -- for not doing something.

Now...let me think of a reason why I can't heed my own advice!

It's Harry Potter Time

I am not a Harry Potter fan.

Neither of the movies, nor the books, nor all the regalia that goes with Pottermania.



But I'm probably also premature in just saying this because it's all based on assumption.



Not once did I read a Harry Potter book...not even aloud to my kids.



Not once did I see a Harry Potter movie.



"I don't like that kind of stuff. I don't like fantasy." (as if the romance book publishing industry, in which I worked for close to twenty years, is not made up of fantasy!)



I simply never gave Harry and his cohorts a chance.



Perhaps it's "my bad."



My son, who's now twelve has been reading the Potter series for several years. In anticipation of the newest book, which was released yesterday, he began rereading earlier volumes in the series. He also introduced his sister, who will turn 10 next month, to Harry, and she began reading the first book on Friday night, much of Saturday, and even taking the book to shul when she went back later in the day.



My husband preordered the latest book in hardcover for my oldest son. Of course, it was to be delived yesterday, on Shabbat. So before Shabbat, we -- I! -- had to prepare a box on our front landing, along with a note: "Courier/Postman: Please leave package in box below."



When we got home from shul around 12:30, there was no package in the box. But somewhere in the time that we ate lunch, between 1:00-2:00, it had arrived. And luckily, the book wasn't packaged in anything that had to be torn; it could just carefully be slipped out of the cardboard holder and then held and admired by my son. My husband had ordered "the adult version." My son was disappointed about that...until we found out that only the cover/jacket art was different than the standard version.



Yesterday, my oldest son was reading an earlier volume throughout all of Shabbat; today, he began to tackle the newest version.



Thanks to Harry Potter, today was what I believe to be the most peaceful day in our household -- with my daughter reading her first Harry Potter, and my older son reading his newest Harry Potter, and my youngest son lost in his Pokemon adventures on GameBoy.


And if that wasn't enough, later in the day, my oldest son watched a Harry Potter film on the computer and the other two watched one on DVD.


Harry Potter is welcome in my home anytime; not only is he a wizard, but he also makes a great baby-sitter.


You think if I gave Harry half a chance, and check him out, he might just work his magic on me, too?

Get a Leg Up

We've had Max for a year and a half, and he will turn two years old in a couple of weeks.

Although we already had a dog before Max, I'm still observing and in awe of learning about canines.

Now, if anyone out there knows, please please tell me this: Why, if Max has already peed -- with evidence -- at the onset of a walk, does he continue to lift that leg at every light post, hydrant mailbox, and bush ... ? Doesn't he know that the reservoir has dried up? What the heck is he "marking his territory with"?

Life Continues...

I guess it's time to give an update for those readers who, like me, worry...and more importantly, care.

Of course I could've written in here during the week but I did not want to read my words after; I couldn't truly convey what I was feeling, what I was hearing, what I was seeing and what I was knowing. Capturing those feelings, thoughts, sights and sounds truly hurts.

We got through our family "simcha" last weekend, but the absence of my father was heavily felt by all -- friends and family from near and far who attended the bar mitzvah or who couldn't attend but heard the news; even my brother's rabbi, who has met my father many times over the years, felt heart-heavy that he wasn't there but was lying in a hospital bed.

When I saw my father in hospital throughout the week, he was a changed man. In May, with his hospitalization, he bounced back rather quickly. This time, it wasn't evident. Confusion reigned and the comments that followed clearly showed that; when in bed, he tried to get out all the time. A night sitter was assigned to him, but it did not greatly appease the situation. My mother got phone calls at 1 a.m. and later on a few nights saying that my father was anxious and yelling and disturbing other patients.

When I saw him in the day, he was angry and upset and even delusional, accusing my mother of things, suddenly seemingly being "out of love" with her. He wanted to die, he couldn't take it anymore...the horrible comments went on and on. And there were tears -- from him. From this stoic survivor who has endured so many difficult situations and come through them over and over and over. But to look at him and listen to him this time, I could not think that he could endure yet again.

Was it the meds taking over him, was it the trauma of another seizure taking over him, was it a fall he had on Thursday taking over him? Would this be a permanent state of mind and of body?

When social workers spoke to my mother and I and asked how he'd been before coming in to the hospital last week, and we said he was almost 100%, it was hard to believe the change/the downfall that we were witnessing.

But to bring my father home was the aim.

And we were able to bring him home on Friday afternoon. When I went to see him before Shabbos, he was tired, oh so tired. Tired of his suffering, tired of his pain...perhaps tired of life? It was so difficult for me to get through Shabbos not knowing what was going on in their home; I was continually afraid I'd receive a phone call on Friday night or Saturday. But thank G-d things were not so so bad. Yes, he was tired; yes, he was weak...but once again, he tried to follow his little routines. Perhaps too much, too soon...but he tried. And for that we're grateful.

I don't know what the immediate or distant future holds for my family -- but as my father always says, "One day at a time."

If you can, please continue to daven for a refuah shlema for Yaakov Arieh ben Chaya Malka.

Life Is What Happens...

...when you're busy making other plans.

My father and mother had their 51st wedding anniversary on June 24.

My father had his 87th birthday on July 4.

He called me in the morning that day and told me to come over for lunch. After lunch, he said, "Thanks for coming over." I said, "Thanks for having a birthday."

I meant that in every way because of the medical difficulties and hospitalizations my father has endured in the past number of years. Bli ayin hara, he is able to continue celebrating.

This weekend our family has a celebration: my nephew's bar mitzvah. It's my brother's youngest son who will be called up to the Torah tomorrow to lain his parsha. My sister-in-law has a large family and relatives are coming from far and wide to join in the simcha; our family is not so large, but we also have relatives coming from far and wide to help celebrate the day and be with our family.

For out-of-town guests, there is a dinner tonight at the shul; tomorrow is a luncheon following services; my first cousin will be speaking for shalosh seudos back at the shul and some guests will be at my brother's house for shalosh seudos. Sunday morning is a brunch at my brother's house.

It has been something to look forward to, and moreso because of the trying times our family has been going through with my dad. Silently I kept thanking G-d and thought we'll have to say a "Shehecheyanu" at shul on my father's behalf.

My mother has told me over the past few weeks that my father keeps saying that he wishes the weekend were over -- it's not because he doesn't want to have some joy in his life, but because he wants to know that he's reached yet another milestone and gotten through it. I kept thinking that the weekend and the simcha itself would just be overwhelming for my dad because of the emotional rollercoaster he will ride with all these close family members around.

As I said in the title, life is what happens when you make other plans. We have been planning for this simcha but my father is now in the hospital. My mother called me around 12:30 in the afternoon yesterday to say that she'd called the ambulance because something was terribly wrong with my father -- he was confused about many things, was so impatient and also suddenly couldn't open a hand. The ambulance took him to a hospital that is good with stroke victims because it's possible that's what he had. He was in emergency all day and was finally admitted last night to a room. For certain, there have been more mini seizures, not necessarily strokes, and for certain my father is in a hospital bed, partially lucid, partially confused, constantly wanting to get out of the bed.

My father will not be at his grandson's simcha. I feel so bad...not fso much for me, but for my mother, my father, my brother and his family and my nephew. We thank G-d that my father is alive to reach this date, yet he is not able to reach the shul. It puts a damper on the whole simcha. I said to my husband, "I'll be there, but my heart won't be in it." He agreed.

When my kids came home from day camp yesterday, I told them that "Zaydie is in the hospital again." My daughter exclaimed, "WHAT? The day after his birthday?"

What a sad irony to life...

Who knows how things will turn out, and why they turn out the way they do, but we have to believe it's all for a GREATER reason.

My father's name is Yaakov Arieh ben Chaya Malka.

Good Shabbos.

Baby Loves

Baby Loves. Written by Michael Lawrence, illustrated by Adrian Reynolds. Published by DK Publishing.

This is the cover of the book that I gave Ezzie when I met him in Toronto some time ago. His sweetie-pie Elianna was just a few months old at the time, but I figured it would be a story that she could grow into. And apparently she has -- it's a favorite book of hers.

We also own a copy and it was a favorite of my kids over the past few years, and... Psst... I'm nearing age 46 and it's a favorite book of mine too!

Although I can't scan the pages for the colorful art, I will copy the text for you. You just have to use your imagination for the fanciful artwork.

Baby loves MOMMY AND DADDY more than anything in the world. Except...

[turn page]

BREAKFAST

Baby loves breakfast more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

TEDDY

Baby loves Teddy more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

KITTY

Baby loves KItty more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

SLIPPERS

Baby loves slippers more than anything in the world except...

[turn page -- I can imagine you people are saying, "We get it, we get it...you don't have to write `turn page.' " Nevertheless...)

FLOWERS

Baby loves flowers more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

GRANNY

Baby loves Granny more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

HAT

Baby loves hat more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

SUNSHINE

Baby loves sunshine more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

RAIN

Baby loves rain more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

DRUM

Baby loves drum more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

DUCKIE

Baby loves Duckie more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

BATHTIME

Baby loves bathtime more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

BEDTIME

And Mommy and Daddy love Baby more than anything in the world except...

[turn page]

No.

Mommy and Daddy love BABY more than anything in the world...

[turn page]

ANYTHING AT ALL!

For Ezzie's sake, I want to make an amendment to the story, just to be in sync with SerandEz.

Baby loves bathtime more than anything in the world except...

THE CLEVELAND CAVS

Baby loves The Cleveland CAVS more than anything in the world except...

BLOGGING

Baby loves blogging more than anything in the world except...

No.

Baby loves blogging more than anything in the world...

ANYTHING AT ALL!

Tag -- I'm IT!

You know, how as a little kid, when you sometimes watch other kids play a game in a schoolyard... And you hope they'll ask you to play too, but you're not really sure you want to...?
Well, that's how I feel about the EIGHT MEME.

I've seen the meme floating around the blogosphere for a few weeks and thought it looked kind of neat. I sort of wanted to do it, but my name never appeared on a "you're tagged" list. And in those instances when the bloggers say they won't tag people but whoever wants to do it can, well I thought it looked kind of lame if I take it upon myself to do the meme that I wasn't tagged for.

But today, July 4, 2007, I am playing that game called EIGHT MEME, thanks to Elie of Elie's Expositions.

Here are the rules:

Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

I must admit, though. I will not tag anyone. Many people have done this while others don't like to be put in the position to do a tag. So, if you'd like, you can follow suit with your own list of eight. Don't be the wuss like me, who waited to be "called upon."

1. I am forever singing...especially in our ensuite shower that has amazing acoustics.

2. This is a quirk of mine: I cannot have a large salad bowl in front of me, with the servers on this side of the bowl. I need to put the servers on the far side of the bowl. Somehow I feel they're in my space bubble, if I don't -- like they're crowding me.

3. Even though I studied piano for years and years, I cannot complete any one song by memory.

4. Give me pasta, give me cheese and I am very very pleased!

5. Sometimes I like knowing that I have the power to move people enough with my words or personal messages to make them cry.

6. I don't know how to have a good argument...so I often back down from one.

7. My childish social hangups often still make an appearance in public settings.

8. I'm often disappointed when I make assumptions and expect too much of people.

Julie Andrews Sings Yiddish

Who'd have guessed that Mary Poppins and Maria from The Sound of Music would sing a beautiful Yiddish "niggun"!

(Also see Mary Tyler Moore in this scene from Thoroughly Modern Millie)

Spielberg, Eat Your Heart Out

I was just reviewing old emails and and came across one that mentioned a link with which I'd had a lot of fun.

I think you will too!

Try it. You never know: you might just be a really good filmmaker.

http://www.dfilm.com/live/moviemaker.html

All My Loved Ones

My eyes are still damp from a movie I finished watching about twenty minutes ago: "All My Loved Ones."

It's another foreign film -- Czech -- but with no traces of quirkiness, only a sense of seriousness and a slight heaviness, as we know this film mirrors life...as it was for Czech and other Jews of Eastern and Western Europe and other countries with the onset of World War 2.

I cried because even though this is a film, it is a recreation of history, a recreation of family life before and during the war. I'm not saying "after the war" because in my cases, there was no recreation of family life, sadly enough.

Perhaps the acting is not supreme and maybe some of the details of the film lack a certain "je ne sais quoi," but I do recommend the film for its sense of realism.

The film is directed by Metej Minac, who is the son of a child who was on the kindertransport, and is based on his mother's recollections.

The copy on the movie cover says: "To save his life, they had to say goodbye."

Just think of how many parents had to say goodbye....

Only Human

I've mentioned before that my husband and I both enjoy offbeat, quirky films.

The cover of this DVD sold me immediately when I spotted it at the public library.

And Tuesday night, watching this Spanish film, we were not disappointed. Silliness -- simple silliness -- and quirkiness abounded.

Family dysfunction -- evident in many of the quirky films I see -- was at the core of the film, as was the Israeli-Palestinian potential for a personal relationship. As was human sexuality and human frailties.

On the range of 1 - 10 for quirkiness, I give the film an 8...and recommend it. (I give the grandfather's performance a 10!)

After all, we are all... ONLY HUMAN.

Sad Update

I'm sorry to say that the toddler whom I asked you to daven for the other day passed away.

Our synagogue sent an email informing us of this, as the family lived in Toronto for a while and belonged to our shul before they moved to Los Angeles.

May they be comforted among the mourners of Zion. May Rafaela rest in peace.

Orthodontia and Only Simchas

Mark, aka PsychoToddler, I know you'll like that "Toothpaste for Dinner" bit above that I found to be appropriate for this post.

Over the years I've more or less cast off my Yenta cape. And that's a good thing. But one thing I can't forego since I've discovered it, is the http://www.onlysimchas.com/ website. That site is food for thought.

It is rare that I know people on the site, posting engagements, weddings, births, graduations, aliyas and photos to accompany these announcements. I am primarily well out of the age league of most of the newly engaged couples or newly married couples or new parents couples, but it is so clear to me that many young ladies aspire to make an appearance on the site, in whatever fortuitous circumstances they find themselves in.

What is the primary common denominator I've noticed among the young women whose pics are featured? They all have gorgeous teeth!!!! You can't always tell the quality of someone's hair from a photo, but you can certainly see if the subject is giving a broad smile for the camera and projecting whiteness and straighteness in her mouth.

Am I generalizing? I don't really think so. Since I was told about this site about three years ago, the "perfect teeth" syndrome is something I've seen over and over again in the photos. Why don't you take a survey and view some pics too. Tell me I'm wrong.

I don't think Photoshop has a hand in these winning smiles on the site; but no doubt Dr. Friedman/Cohen/Ames/Delgado and Grazier do. Or else maybe Mother Nature simply smiled down upon the chosen few and by osmosis passed along a winning, natural smile.

In any case, pearly whites love to appear on Only Simchas! Maybe the site should feature a photo section and call it: "The Day My Braces Came Off." You never know... As a result, shidduchs might be in the works just a few years earlier!

Oy! What People Will Stoop To... or....

DESPERATE STROKES FOR DESPERATE FOLKS!


...LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters Life!) -- Actor Tom Sizemore, best known for battle-hardened film roles in "Saving Private Ryan" and "Black Hawk Down," was sentenced Monday to 16 months in prison for violating his probation in a drug possession case.

But the 45-year-old performer must return to court Tuesday for a hearing on whether he will receive credit for the time he has spent in residential drug treatment facilities.

The actor admitted in court last week to violating his probation on a previous felony drug conviction and tearfully pleaded with the Los Angeles Superior Court judge for leniency, begging her, "If you would please just give me one more chance for myself."

Sizemore was on three years' probation when he was arrested May 8 outside a California hotel on suspicion of methamphetamine possession.

The actor's probation for a previous methamphetamine possession conviction was revoked in 2005 when he admitted to using a prosthetic penis in a bid to fake a urine test.

But he checked into a psychiatric hospital for treatment of chronic depression and drug dependency, which a doctor said he has battled for years, and a judge later reinstated his probation

Prayers Are Needed for a Toddler

If you can, please daven/say a prayer for Batya Rafaela bat Hadassah, a young toddler in Los Angeles who nearly drowned in her family pool this past week. Her family used to live in Toronto, but moved to Los Angeles a couple of years back.

She is on life support.

May we only share good news.

Thank you.

Trivia Tidbit

I happened to read this obituary yesterday. Note the paragraph highlighted in color. It was just last week that I wrote a post about Pale Male and linked to information about him and his sweetheart.

Lola Wasserstein, mother of playwright Wendy Wasserstein, dies

The Associated Press
June 20, 2007

NEW YORK (AP) -- Lola Wasserstein, an inspiration for many of the characters in the works of her daughter, playwright Wendy Wasserstein, has died. She was 89.

Wasserstein died of natural causes on Saturday at her Manhattan apartment, another daughter, Georgette Levis, said Tuesday.

"She was an inspiration to all of us," said Levis.

Lola Wasserstein was a model for the character of Tasha Blumberg in "Isn't It Romantic," an untraditional Jewish mother who takes dance classes and wears skirts over black leotards.
She also inspired the mother character in "The Sisters Rosensweig," as well as the off-stage mother of character Holly Kaplan in "Uncommon Women and Others," who urges her daughter to find a boyfriend.

Wendy Wasserstein died last year. Another daughter, Sandra Meyer, a prominent marketing executive, died in 1998. Levis is owner of the Wilburton Inn in Manchester, Vermont.

Wasserstein was an avid dancer who took classes in jazz and modern well into her 80s, her family said.

"She was very tiny; she was 4-foot-8-inches (1.4-meter). But she never realized that because she was so dynamic," said Levis.

Born Lola Schleiffer in Poland, Wasserstein came to the United States in 1931. She was married to Morris Wasserstein, an inventor and businessman who died in 2003.

Wasserstein is also survived by her son, Bruce Wasserstein, a Wall Street deal maker, who was instrumental in saving the nest of two red-tailed hawks on the ledge of his Fifth Avenue apartment building. The hawks are widely known as Pale Male and Lola -- the latter in honor of Lola Wasserstein.

Levis said the family planned a private funeral, and a "Lola party" next week for extended family and friends "where we'll sing `Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.'"

A Fancy Name...

...FOR THE SAME DIRTY JOB!

I saw this ad on a local hospital career website.

Hmmm...an Environmental Services Partner.

I wondered what that could be...



Environmental Services Partner
We have a number of temporary (five months) part time opportunities for Environmental Services Partners who will dry and wet mop floors and stairs, collect garbage, clean washrooms and replenish supplies, vacuum and spot clean carpets. You will also carry out terminal cleaning procedures as prescribed by established procedures in preparation for new admissions, can clean isolation rooms according to specific Infection Prevention Control protocols.

The successful candidates will have a Grade 11 education (or recognized equivalent), the ability to read, write and speak English competently, preferably previous Environmental Services experience and 1 year of related experience in a health care facility. (Related experience and potential will be considered) You must have attended WHMIS training, have the ability to work with minimal supervision, and must be willing and prepared to operate all housekeeping related equipment including swing buffer, high speed burnisher and automatic scrubber. You must also be prepared and able to use all personal protective equipment including CBRN gear, full faced-mask, and tyvek suit. Must possess an Infection Control Core Competency Certificate, be able to lift 20-30 pounds, and prepared to respond to and attend to Chemical Biological Radiological and Nuclear (CBRN) incidents.

Interested candidates are invited to submit a resume

June 24

This coming Sunday is a busy one for us.

My daughter is going to a b'day party in the morning in the center of the city. We have to pick her up early from there and drive way north-west to my three kids' final swim lesson for this session.

After swimming, we are stopping in at my friend's father's 95th birthday party (he should be well).

After that we go home to prepare for my son's 12th b'day party, which is actually a sleepover for about a dozen or more boys. You can check in with me on Monday around noon and see if ALL my hair did not turn gray overnight!

And somewhere in that full day, we will go visit my parents...for it will be, G-d willing, their 51st wedding anniversary.

Last year, their 50th anniversary, was special -- with a celebratory dinner at an upscale fleishig/meat restaurant for family and close friends. People came in from the U.S. to help mark this wonderful occasion.

This year, their 51st anniversary will be special -- but low-key. There are no celebration plans that I know of. But my dear parents will be celebrating being together...for as I recently said, it has been a most difficult year or more with regards to my father's ill health. It has been terribly difficult on my mother, too, as she has to deal with the daily physical and mental and even emotional changes that my father goes through.

My parents take marriage very seriously and they are devoted to one another, having found their beshert in each other all those years ago...and marrying six weeks after meeting each other.

Compromise, picking one's arguments, and patience have been the key. There have been many physical and emotional hurdles to leap over throughout the past 51 years, but my parents keep doing so...hand in hand....together.

May they be blessed with many more happy, and G-d willing, healthy, years together, and may our family be able to mark each June 24th with a L'CHAIM!!

From Kol Nidre to George Gershwin

Yesterday evening, I had the pleasure of going out with my husband -- a rarity -- to Roy Thompson Hall to see the Toronto Symphony performing with master clarinetist and Klezmer interpreter Giora Feidman.

This concert was being held in honor of the 150th anniversary of Holy Blossom Temple, Toronto's largest reform temple. (more familiarly addressed as "The Church on the Hill" because of its Gothic architecture and location) I wasn't there on behalf of the temple, but because theater balcony tickets on gone on sale this past week at a very reasonable rate, and I asked my husband if he'd like to go to this concert and help celebrate Father's Day that way. He gave the thumbs-up sign.

Now, you have to understand: I was raised on classical music, attending symphony concerts and sometimes opera/operetta and musical theater. My husband wasn't. So he really has to want to do these things with me, and that's not often the case. But I told him who Giora Feidman was and my husband welcomed hearing Klezmer music.

Giora truly has a way with that instrument. He makes it talk; he makes it sing; he makes it cry; he makes it shout! He gives the clarinet a life of its own, while doing the same for the music he is performing. From "Kol Nidre" by Max Bruch to music from "Porgy & Bess" by Gershwin, Feidman gave every piece of music his personal stamp, infusing each movement with a trace of Klezmer. Even the piece "Two Tangos" held some Klezmer themes.

He introduced the Porgy & Bess bit by saying it has Jewish undertones, and proceeded to use "It Ain't Necessarily So" to demonstrate it. And I just found this bit in Wikipedia to help back up the fact:

"In addition to being influenced by New York jazz and southern black music, many biographers and contemporaries have noted that for many numbers Gershwin borrowed melodies from Jewish liturgical music. Gershwin biographer Edward Jablonsky has claimed that the melody to "It Ain't Necessarily So" was taken from the Haftarah blessing,[16] and others have attributed it to the Torah blessing.[17] Allusions to Jewish music have been detected by other observers as well. One musicologist detected 'an uncanny resemblance' between the folk tune Havenu Shalom Aleichem and the spiritual It Take a Long Pull to Get There.[18]"

The concert was lovely; the company was good (when I wasn't nudging him when he was "OVERrelaxing") and it was a nice way to end Father's Day.

As for Father's Day, I told my husband earlier that each day is Father's Day... Mother's Day...Valentine's Day...a birthday...an anniversary...a gift in itself. And the reason I say that is that earlier in the day, I went to my parents' home and was able to with my father a happy Father's Day in person. He's had a very difficult past year and a half. Things could have been so different already. I told my mother yesterday that I'm thankful I can visit my father in his own home. And not in the cemetery. (Perhaps this sounds morbid, but it's reality)

And as the sweet, rich sounds emanated from Giora Feidman's clarinet, I couldn't help but think of those fathers no longer around to enjoy this music of life.

"P" Marks the Spot

This morning, as I do most mornings, I took Max to a park where, I discovered a couple of months ago, other dog owners congregate in the morning to let their dogs play.

Max must already sense this morning routine of ours -- take youngest to school, head to park -- because he's raring to go when I ask my son if he's ready to go. And Max begins to whimper loudly and effectively almost immediately after I drop my son off at school, and take the five minute car trip to the park.

Sometimes I arrive at the park for "shift 2" -- which is the after 9:00 a.m. group -- and other times I'm still there with some remaining from "shift 1". Today was a combo of groups.

One of the few dogs that stayed with Max and I was a black "Pugston" -- a cross between a pug and a Boston terrier. A beautiful, swift creature, who ran like the wind and could keep up with my Max as they played in the field. Spencer, the Pugston, had chased Max onto the field, while his owner was still on the other side of the fence talking to a departing "dog parent."

I crouched down to pat Max and then Spencer was beside us. Suddenly that darn dog lifted his leg and proceeded to pee -- on me!!?? I was quick enough to react and leap up and exclaim out loud to his owner, "Your dog just peed on me."

Apparently it's not the first time he's peed on someone. And in all honesty, it's not the first time a dog has peed on me. Many many years ago, I was in Israel and visiting a cousin in Be'er Sheva. I was in the backyard with my cousin's wife and dog and suddenly that pooch lifted his leg and marked the spot...with me standing on the spot!

Who knows dogs? Why do they mark the spot even if a human is standing right there?

I mean, I like wearing fragrances and body spray...but "eau de chien" is not one of them!

Pale Male

The other night, I watched this PBS special for the second time. I was equally moved by it the second time around, as I'd been the first time, when I saw the documentary a year or two ago.

Have any of you seen the special, or know about this?

Nature shows might come across as boring to some people, but for others -- such as myself -- they are vehicles that leave us in awe of G-d's creations.

Gullible Me...& Perhaps You?

Just after posting the last bit, I decided to GOOGLE the story, and this is what I came up with.

Guess that's why "shmirat halashon" (guarding of one's tongue) is so important; we don't always know if what we're telling/repeating is, in fact, truth.

(I just realized this post will be read before the other one, as the latest posts go on top. Oh, well...)

A Brain Twister (came through email)

For those who have served on jury...this one is something to think about .

Just when you think you have heard everything!!

Do you like to read a good murder mystery? Not even Law and Order would attempt to capture this mess. This is an unbelievable twist of fate!!!!

At the 1994 annual awards dinner given for Forensic Science, (AAFS)President Dr. Don Harper Mills astounded his audience with the legal complications of a bizarre death. Here is the story:

On March 23, 1994....... the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus, and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. Mr. Opus had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide..

He left a note to the effect indicating his despondency. As he fell past the ninth floor, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a window, which killed him instantly. Neither the shooter nor the deceased was aware that a safety net had been installed just below the eighth floor level to protect some building workers and that Ronald Opus would not have been able to complete his suicide the way he had planned.

The room on the ninth floor, where the shotgun blast emanated, was occupied by an elderly man and his wife. They were arguing vigorously and he was threatening her with a shotgun! The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger, he completely missed his wife, and the pellets went through the window, striking Mr. Opus.

When confronted with the murder charge, the old man and his wife were both adamant, and both said that they thought the shotgun was not loaded. The old man said it was a long-standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her. Therefore the killing of Mr. Opus appeared to be an accident; that is, assuming the gun had been accidentally loaded.

The continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun about six weeks prior to the fatal accident..

It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother.

Since the loader of the gun was aware of this, he was guilty of the murder even though he didn't actually pull the trigger. The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus.

Now comes the exquisite twist... Further investigation revealed that the son was, in fact, Ronald Opus. He had become increasingly despondent over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder.

This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story window.

The son, Ronald Opus, had actually murdered himself. So the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide.

A true story from Associated Press (Reported by Kurt Westervelt)

...and Here's the Reason Why

Here are the responses:

1. Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
2. Birds of a feather flock together.
3. Look before you leap.
4. Beauty is only skin deep.
5. No use crying over spilled milk.
6. Cleanliness is next to Godliness.
7. The pen is mightier than the sword.
8. You cannot teach an old dog new tricks.
9. Spare the rod and spoil the child.
10. A watched pot never boils.
11. All that glitters is not gold.
12. Where there's smoke, there's fire.
13. Beggars can't be choosers.
14. Too many cooks spoil the broth.
15. Charity begins at home.
16. Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones.
17. Beginner's luck.
18. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
19. A rolling stone gathers no moss.
20. Close your mouth while chewing.

Elie Is One Smart Cookie...

In my quiz post yesterday, I wrote that Elie and Miriam would no doubt enjoy this brain quiz -- assuming, of course, that Elieand Miriam would read the post...assuming, of course, that Elie and Miriam read my blog pretty regularly...

Well, a resounding yes....at least about Elie. (I haven't heard from Miriam re. the quiz.) He reads my blog. He read that post. He enjoyed the quiz.

However, since his system does not allow him to comment on posts anymore, he sent me his responses. I think they're worthy of their own post. I am certainly impressed. After all, as this post title says, "Elie Is One Smart Cookie." My next post will have the answers; you can see for yourself just how Mensa-like Elie is.

Here are Elie's answers:

1. Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minikin.

Twinkle, twinkle little star

2. Members of an avian species of identical plumage congregate.

Birds of a feather flock together

3. Surveillance should precede saltation.

Look before you leap

4. Pulchritude possesses solely cutaneous profundity.

Beauty is only skin deep

5. It is fruitless to become lachrymose over precipitately departed lacteal fluid.

Don't cry over spilled milk

6. Freedom from encrustations of grime is contiguous to rectitude.

Cleanliness is next to godliness

7. The stylus is more potent than the claymore.

The pen is mightier than the sword

8. It is fruitless to attempt to indoctrinate a superannuated canine with innovative manoeuvers.

You can't teach an old dog new tricks

9. Eschew the implementation of correction and vitiate the scion.

Spare the rod, spoil the child

10. The temperature of the aqueous content of an unremittingly observed saucepan does not reach 212 degrees Fahrenheit.

A watched pot never boils

11. All articles that coruscate with resplendence are not truly auriferous.

All that glitters is not gold

12. Where there are visible vapours having their prevalence in ignited carbonaceous materials, there is conflagration.

Where there's smoke, there's fire

13. Sorting on the part of mendicants must be interdicted.

Beggers can't be choosers

14. A plethora of individuals with expertise in culinary techniques vitiates the potable concoction produced by steeping certain comestibles.

Too many cooks spoil the broth

15. Eleemosynary deeds have their incipience intramurally.

Charity begins at home

16. Individuals who make their abodes in vitreous edifices would be advised to refrain from catapulting petrous projectiles.

People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones

17. Neophyte's serendipity.

Beginner's luck

18. Exclusive dedication to laborious enterprise without interlude of enjoyable diversion renders John a tedious fellow.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

19. A revolving lithic conglomerate accumulates no congeries of a small green bryophytic plant.

A rolling stone gathers no moss

20. It behooves the garrulous to render impenetrable the buccal orifice during mastication.

Chew with your mouth closed

DogGONE It!

Spotted this amusing bit today on Reuters:

Bangkok:

Two Thai street mutts who became ace sniffer dogs at an airport near the notorious “Golden Triangle” opium-producing region have been fired for urinating on luggage and ‘sexually harassing’ female passengers. The pair, Mok and Lai, had been plucked from obscurity under a programme initiated by King Bhumibol Adulyadej to turn strays into police dogs, the Bangkok Post said on Sunday.

Mok, eight, and Lai, six, were welcomed by Chiang Rai police when the pair, local breeds, were sent to help them at the northern international airport. Authorities needed well-trained sniffer dogs to prevent any attempts by passengers to smuggle illegal drugs into the country. Mok and Lai became instant favourites. They obeyed the rules and did not make any serious mistakes. They won praise from police for their work in sniffing out drugs at northern Thailand’s Chiang Rai airport, near the border with Laos and Myanmar, but many passengers kept complaining about their behaviour.

They made some small errors — and that was enough to get them barred. Mok’s former handler Police Lieutenant Colonel Jakapop Kamhom said, “Mok liked to pee on luggage while searching for drugs inside. He also liked to hold on to women’s legs,” he added.“Both were just as good as foreign dogs trained for use in drug missions,” he added. “But they were stray dogs, so their manners were not as good as those of foreign breeds.”

Mok and Lai now work on a farm, herding chickens and pigs, the paper said.

Say What????

This came in an email.

See if you can translate these well-known clichés and proverbs. Answers will be provided tomorrow perhaps.

(Elie, Miriam: I think you both will enjoy this brain quiz.)

1. Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minikin.

2. Members of an avian species of identical plumage congregate.

3. Surveillance should precede saltation.

4. Pulchritude possesses solely cutaneous profundity.

5. It is fruitless to become lachrymose over precipitately departed lacteal fluid.

6. Freedom from encrustations of grime is contiguous to rectitude.

7. The stylus is more potent than the claymore.

8. It is fruitless to attempt to indoctrinate a superannuated canine with innovative manoeuvers.

9. Eschew the implementation of correction and vitiate the scion.

10. The temperature of the aqueous content of an unremittingly observed saucepan does not reach 212 degrees Fahrenheit.

11. All articles that coruscate with resplendence are not truly auriferous.

12. Where there are visible vapours having their prevalence in ignited carbonaceous materials, there is conflagration.

13. Sorting on the part of mendicants must be interdicted.

14. A plethora of individuals with expertise in culinary techniques vitiates the potable concoction produced by steeping certain comestibles.

15. Eleemosynary deeds have their incipience intramurally.

16. Individuals who make their abodes in vitreous edifices would be advised to refrain from catapulting petrous projectiles.

17. Neophyte's serendipity.

18. Exclusive dedication to laborious enterprise without interlude of enjoyable diversion renders John a tedious fellow.

19. A revolving lithic conglomerate accumulates no congeries of a small green bryophytic plant.

20. It behooves the garrulous to render impenetrable the buccal orifice during mastication.

Who Is Rich?

Who is rich?

* He* who goes to a community fund-raiser for a school whose students have physical and mental challenges, and thanks G-d that his children do not need the school's services.

* He who walks through the lobby of a children's hospital and thanks G-d that his children are not patients there.

* He who realizes that it's not always dollars that make "sense"!

* He who understands that praise is a gift, and shares that gift.

* He who puts family before self.

* He who makes a house a home.

* He who instills a "value" system in each of his children.

* He who makes strangers feel like longtime friends.

* He who gives more than he takes.

* He who believes that the pursuit of learning and studying is a lifelong adventure.

* He who thanks G-d for all that he is and all that he already has.


_______________________________________

He* can also mean she.

Auto Observations

This is a SMART car. However, to me, this car looks so dumb!

As I passed one today in a driveway, I thought: "How can anyone take this car seriously?"

Whenever I pass one, I announce to my kids in the back seat, or say to myself, "There goes a putt-putt." That's what I call them. Or I call them glorified golfing carts.

I laugh silently -- or aloud -- when I see one. I, for one, cannot take them seriously. They are cute, they are chichi, they are an attraction...but they look like too much of a novelty.

What's interesting for me -- especially after posting this -- is that the logo for the model is: "open your mind" (TM)

So open your mind, get a SMART car, and zip around the city in it...instead of on the golf course!

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

I was driving in my neighborhood this morning and passed a car with something hanging from the central mirror.

It made me laugh to myself.

No. It wasn't a pair of fuzzy dice.

No. It wasn't a pair of baby shoes.

No. It wasn't a Beanie Baby. (tm)

No. It wasn't a Tefillat Haderech. (Traveler's prayer)

(DRUMROLL PLEASE.)

It was a huge chai.

The kind of chai you'd imagine spoofed on an episode of Saturday Night Live. With some depiction of an old Jewish guy or a young, supposedly cool Jewish guy, wearing a more-than-oversized chai like this, hanging down to his pupik!

The car was a sedan. Thank G-d it wasn't a SMART car. Then I would have had two reasons to laugh!!

Guard Your Tongue!!

Shmiras Halashon [guarding of one's tongue] is a pretty popular concept. So popular, in fact, that societies advocating it have risen up in many communities. Books talk about it, lectures discuss the concept, and people...? Shhh...not supposed to talk about it -- might be deemed gossip!

A few years back when a formal group was created in Toronto, a group whose aim was to teach about avoiding gossip, slander, idle talk, a girlfriend and I were talking about this group. Nothing bad, you understand, just talking.

She said that someone had gotten up in her shul to talk about the group and said that everyone should dedicate at least one hour a day to being aware of what one says and avoiding lashon harah. My girlfriend decided that 3 a.m. worked good for her!

In any case, I don't need a society to realize that gossip and slander are negative; I was raised to be aware not to talk idly or evil about people and things. But sometimes there is a thin line: am I talking lashon harah, or is it just positive criticism?

This evening I was laughing to myself when I came across this ad in a little magazine meant primarily for Toronto's Orthodox community:

Need place cards for your simcha? We have place cards that include 2-4 line poems to encourage Shmiras Halashon at a simcha...

At a simcha of all places! When you want to critique or discuss the groom's side of the family, or the bride's gown, the music, the decor...and most importantly...the FOOD!! No discussing, no hinting at, no passing references?

I'm guessing that some guests and members of the wedding party, or the bar mitzvah boy's family and friends are doomed.

Perhaps blogging is truly a form of lashon harah. I don't want to be a part of lashon harah. So I guess I just have to stop blogging....NOT!!! Thought I was serious, huh?

The message of this post is think before you write, think before you speak...and if need be, remember that more often than not, "Silence is golden."

A Beautiful Rendition of One of My Favorite Songs

Oy Veh!

And while we're on the Mickey Katz theme...

Jennifer Grey singing and dancing

Something you don't see every day!

Simple and Funny...Simply Funny

Rabbi Neil Fleischmann of NY's Funniest Rabbi wrote a one-liner that made me break out into a wide smile when I read it, and made a friend break out laughing when I told it to her over the phone, even though I didn't repeat it correctly. (I'm not too good at repeating jokes; I'm much funnier when I'm spontaneous...and cynical and sarcastic.)

I hoped as I read the joke that it was original, because I wanted to be able to attribute it to him.

Phew, it is original. And I have the good rabbi's permission to share the joke with you. Thank you.

Neil is pretty eclectic: he teaches full-time, he is rabbi in residence for senior camps held over Passover and other chagim, he is an actor -- doing comedy, drama and improv, he is a writer & poet. He is all-around nice and well-liked guy who manages to capture a lot of the world around him in the words of his drashot (sermons), his blog posts and his occasional photos.

Check out his blog. I've been doing so for well over two years...and happily so.

I knew I'd
gained weight when I asked the shadchan for a name and she said Jenny Craig.

Graphic...Novel

I just finished reading this book today; it's a graphic novel...a comic book for adults, if you so please!

I love Klezmer music and this presented a wonderful view of that genre...in a slightly warped way.

Apparently, the book was originally published in French and translated to English. It's a wonderful visual trip with the artwork that comes alive and characters who come alive through their lines!

Klezmer is Book 1 in a proposed series, and I look forward to following the adventures in subsequent books.

I love reading yet I also lost the capability to read as I used to...I find it hard to sit and allow myself to read, and usually read small items, along the lines of short stories or magazine articles. (this comes mainly from the fact that I worked in publishing for years and years, reading manuscripts, and the fact that I majored in English. I have no "setzfleisch" for reading) Thus this genre -- of graphic novel -- is perfect for me.

Next up, I have a copy of Neil Kleid's Brownsville to read, which I first read about on Seraphic Secret.

When you think about it, graphic novels have been around, but we just might have not "noticed" them: TinTin, for example. But now, one certainly does notice them; I go into the mega-size bookstores and find entire sections cordoned off as Graphic Novels, both in the youth/teen section and adult sections.

It's an easy, quick format of reading, being entertained and getting informed...all at the same time.

Hmmm...graphic novels.... I know I can write, but if I could only draw....

A Simple Explanation Will Do

Could someone please tell me why...

...the no-name soap pad I've just started smells like a barnyard?

Does that mean that brand-name scouring pads smell like a garden of lilies and irises?

Hey, come to think of it, I think steel wool also smells gross. What's up with that?

If You Play Your Cards Right...

Late last night I watched this film. The Hebrew title is "Afula Express" but in English, it was renamed to "Pick a Card." Both titles work extremely well for the storyline, but for the English-speaking audiences the latter name is more appropriate.

As I sat and watched, I was bothered because I just KNEW that the lead actress was familiar to me, but I couldn't recall where I'd seen her before -- I don't watch Israeli films all that often and I didn't think she was anything but an Israeli. And then it hit me; I'd seen her in this film that I'd talked about in a previous post.

People tell me I'm pretty fluent in Hebrew, but nonetheless I read the English subtitles. And subtitling is a funny genre in itself. Often what the characters said in Hebrew was translated much harsher in English, throwing in "Hell" and other curse words...for effect, I guess.

The film won several awards and no doubt, rightfully so.

Everyone Has a Story To Tell

I just finished watching this film that I'd taken out from the library. "Almost Peaceful" is in French, with English subtitles. It is not by any means a great film, but it is a sensitive one that deals with Parisians, primarily Jews, after World War II, and how they come to terms with how the war has changed them, changed their personal reality.

It is nice to know that someone came up with a concept like this and with a screenplay such as this one. "The survivor" deserves another look, and gets one in this film.

Life's Funny that Way

My last post was a shout-out to blogland -- to the people whose blogs I read and to the people who read my blog. It was a virtual thank-you for doing what you do, being who you are...and ultimately letting me be who I am.

I was just reviewing my roster of posts to see what kind of posts I was writing around this time in May 2006 and May 2005. And I found this post written nearly to the date that I wrote my post this past Friday, May 18th. And then I found this post written nearly to the date that I wrote my post this past Friday, May 18th.

It certainly has not been a conscious decision to write every mid-May about my fellow bloggers, to thank them and acknowledge their presence (and in some cases -- presents!) in my life.

I wonder what it is about this time of year that has me doing this... (cue "Twilight Zone" theme song). Some people, who have more than one child, give birth to their children around the same time in different years. Is it that sort of phenomenon?

In any case, if I'm still blogging next May, keep an eye open for another shout-out.

*****
And by the way, my shout-out from last year has reference to blogger Ten Li Koach. I just wanted you all to kvell and know that she has other reasons now to request Ten Li Koach (give me strength): she was blessed, giving birth to a beautiful and healthy baby daughter a few weeks ago. Pu, Pu, Pu. Wish her a hearty mazel tov.
Blogging has exposed me to life, death, simchas and sadness. I've ridden an emotional rollercoaster along with many bloggers whose heartfelt emotions come through their words.
To write that way is a gift. To read the words is also a gift.

A Shout-Out to Blogland

I first found myself in the blogosphere in October 2004, when I discovered Seraphic Secret...and boy, am I glad I did. Learning about Robert's family's ordeal and great loss opened my eyes to someone's personal story made public.

I'd scan Robert's list of favorite blogs too and began to read some of them, too. That's how I discovered Treppenwitz, and A Simple Jew. And from those blogs I discovered Jack's Shack, PsychoToddler, Kerckhoff Coffeehouse, NY's Funniest Rabbi, Mirty, Elie's Expositions, Life of Rubin and several others.

And in December 2004, I took the plunge and became a blogger too. And eventually, I had three blogging gigs. Okay, I've let up on the other two quite a bit, but I still have access to them.

I began to write posts, and continued to read others', finding new blogs on other peoples' blogrolls. I came upon some fabulous blogs later in my blogging career -- Jew Eat Yet?, Citizen of the Month, Ezzie, Oriyenta, OldOldLadyoftheHills, Shalom from Jerusalem, to name but a few -- just by reading others' blogrolls.

I don't update my blogroll too often because even if I don't read someone regularly anymore, I take a peek every now and again to see how and what they're doing in their life and in their blogging corner.

So this post is just meant to be a shout-out to bloggers whose paths have crossed mine -- both in real time and virtually. You don't realize how big or small an impact you've made on my life, but you truly have. With your words on your blog, and sometimes in my comments, you've made me laugh, cry, think, understand or question. Sometimes we've even taken our comments offline and into our email InBox.

And you've made me write, and write, and write....

Thank you. Todah rabah. Merci. Gracias. Danke.

Smile of the Day

Perhaps you've heard the one about the new couple in town - the wife wants to go to the sisterhood dinner, but it costs $200 a ticket and they don't have the cash. So she gets herself nicely done up and goes out for the evening.

The next morning, bleary-eyed, she happily tells her husband that she raised the money herself for the ticket.

"How?" he asks.

She replies, "Well, I'm still a beautiful woman, and..."

"So how much did you earn?" he asks.

"Two hundred and two dollars," she replies.

"What cheapskate gave you the two dollars?" he asks.

"They all did!"

The Phone Call

The following post might bother some people, because they might suddenly have a different impression of me.

What can I say?

I'm me. And I do what I have to do. I did what I felt I had to do. Wanted to do.

And this blog is my confessional box, and this post is serving as my confession.

Last Friday night, we made early Shabbos -- our shul davens early, and my husband came home early. We sang "Shalom Aleichem" and my husband had just finished singing "Aishet Chayil." I told him that although we always made kiddush and bentched while growing up, we didn't do Aishet Chayil and not even Shalom Aleichem. We had a step in Orthodoxy but most of the time I guess we were in Conservative Judaism.

Just after I made this statement, the telephone rang. Nobody of real importance to us calls us on Shabbos because people who know us know we're observant and wouldn't answer, but my husband looked over at the call display and saw my parents' name and phone number and announced it with a questioning tone to his voice.

We'd both spoken to my parents before Shabbos and they would not use the phone, (times have changed in their household) and especially not to call us...unless it was an emergency.

When Pesach rolled around, my husband had decided to forward our home phone calls to his cell phone, so as not be bothered by ringing house lines on Yom Tov or Shabbos. But we'd told my mother if there was ever an issue, to call my cell phone number (I rarely get calls on it anyhow)and I'd leave it on over Shabbos and Yom Tov. I'd hoped that phone would never ring at those times...

But my husband hadn't forwarded the house calls to his cell this Shabbos, and now on the landline was my parents' phone number facing us. And why on the landline and not on my cell phone?

I asked, "What do I do?"

I was told to answer it, and I heard a distressed and panicked voice when I picked up the receiver: "WE'RE GOING TO NY GENERAL. HE'S HAD A STROKE AND A SEIZURE!"

Oh. My. G-d.

You cannot imagine what went through my head at that moment. I didn't know what to do. What to say.

I tried to shut my mind down. And I held myself in check as my husband made kiddush, blessed my youngest son (my other two were staying with friends over Shabbos), washed and made ha-motzei. I allowed myself to eat some fish and soup...and then I said: "I HAVE TO GO THERE!"

I knew it was not right to break Shabbos -- by answering the phone and by going to the hospital -- but this time I thought it was the end. A year ago, March, I was called and told my father had been rushed to emergency, and when I got there, he was in a catatonic-looking state. They'd thought he'd suffered a massive stroke, and there were no reactions, just a waxy look to his face, staring at nothingness. At that time he spent 3 1/2 weeks in hospital. Just two months ago, he came home from spending 3 months in hospital.

I silently asked Hashem to forgive me, and my husband gave me a Tehillim. I panicked and said: "I don't even know what I'd read in it." (sad, but true. My father reads Tehillim daily, and has for years, and his daughter doesn't even know where to find her way in it, ie. what to read when.) But I thought I needed something/anything to hang on to.

I rushed off....

When I got to the hospital emergency area, my father was lying on the gurney he'd been brought in on, oxygen mask on, but he was cognizant. He was talking through the mask, telling my brother -- whose Shabbos had also been "disturbed" -- to go home. And my mother said a few times, "I shouldn't have called you."

Yes, you should have, Mom. Nobody deserves to face these trials on their own. This is my father, you are my mother, and we are a family.

To make a long story short-- my father probably did not suffer a stroke, although even the paramedics had first thought he did, as did the attending emergency room doctor. But he did have a very lengthy seizure, as he sat in his chair at the dining room table, prepared to bentsch. The after-effects of a seizure often mimic strokes: tiredness, general weakness, slurred speech, confusion, etc.

My father was in the hospital, admitted in the early hours of Shabbos morning, and poked, prodded, tested, X-rayed, questioned over the course of the next few days. Thank G-d he didn't suffer any more seizures, nor did that "grand mal" one have truly lingering effects. His medications have been reassessed, and he was given his walking papers. I'd love to be able to add: "and a clean bill of health" but we know that's not the case.

He was released today, Yom Yerushalayim, a celebration for Jews the world over, and a celebratory day for us.

My Shabbos could have turned out so very differently. I have a very vivid imagination, and I can also be very realistic. I thank G-d that my father is still among the living.

It pains me to know that perhaps I was selfish last Shabbos. I needed to answer the phone. I needed to go to the hospital. I needed to know exactly what had landed my father in an ambulance and emergency room, and see him for myself. I made the judgment call that it was okay to break Shabbos at a time like this; I deemed it an offshoot of Pikuach Nefesh. G-d forbid anything should happen to my father in the next several hours, my mother would need me.

As I traveled to and from the hospital, I felt guilty. There are people so much more religious and pious than I am, and I figured that they would not take it upon themselves to do what I had done and was doing. I wondered about a friend whose child was incredibly sick for lengthy periods of time and eventually succumbed to an early, untimely death. Had he ever broken Shabbos because he felt it to be a dire, critical situation at the time?

And you shouldn't know, but just a week earlier, someone I know lost her mother Shabbos morning. Her mother passed away in her house. The daughter was there with her brothers...and apparently did not do anything until after Shabbos was out, ie. calling the authorities and chevra kaddisha. Halachically, was this correct? She is very frum, and I know she was in limbo, not yet formally deemed in avelut, and it was Shabbos. But should she have and could she have broken Shabbos to make the necessary phone calls? (any knowledgeable people out there with the answer?)

But as I traveled, I thought of these people who honored Shabbos above all else. Perhaps in my case, it was the continued honor of Kibbud Av v'Em (Honor Thy Father and Mother) that was foremost. That has sustained me throughout my life and has been at the helm of the house I grew up in...along with Shmirat ha-Lashon. (guarding of the tongue against lashon hara/bad talk/gossip.)

Last Friday night, close to midnight, my father and mother urged me to go home. My father's words to me were: "Have a good Shabbos."

And on Motzei Shabbos, I was able to speak to him on the phone, and my father's words to me were: "Have a happy Mother's Day."

Dad, each week that you're "here," I can have a good Shabbos, and each day that you're "here" is a wonderful Mother's Day for me.

We should wish each other a Good Shabbos each week, and may you be around to wish me many more happy Mother's Days!

Music to My Ears

This is an interior of a music box, the Swiss movement, so to speak.

This is more or less what my music box looks like on the outside.

I often get flashbacks... and sometimes not even by association. Sometimes I get random flashbacks. Just. Like. That.

And I had one before.

I suddenly recalled when I was about 12 years old and being in Switzerland with my mother, traveling for two to three weeks to large cities, to small cities and to mountain towns. And on that visit, I was told that I could buy a music box.

And so began my hunt for the perfect music box. The perfect song. The perfect price range.

I lifted the lids of oh so many boxes that cost a certain number of acceptable Swiss francs. I heard Brahms Lullaby, Love Story, Fur Elise, Edelweiss -- over and over again.

Yes, they were lovely songs to hear a music box emit, but what did I settle on?

"Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" -- the tune from OKLAHOMA.

I guess even my twelve-year-old self recognized even then that Broadway showtunes rang supreme.

Mama Madness

Every day is truly Mother's Day. But tomorrow it is officially Mother's Day...as deemed by Hallmark, American Greetings, Mountain Press and the like. So in honor of Mother's Day, here are some notable Mama wisdoms:

1. see photo above.

2. "Mom stands for Mother, not Made of Money!"

3. "I smile because I am your mother. I laugh because you can't do anything about it."

4. Here is a Jewish mother joke:

Q: What did the waiter ask the group of Jewish mothers?
A: "Is anything OK?"

5. "It's not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it." ~From the television show The Golden Girls

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

To all the mothers out there, Happy Mother's Day.

To my very special mom, who's endured so very very much, and continues to do so, Happy Mother's Day.

To a very special NEW mom, who's been blessed with a very beautiful daughter, happy FIRST MOTHER'S DAY. (you know who you are.)

To all of you whose mother may have already left this world, may your mother's memory be for a blessing.

A Visual Ode to Jerusalem

A video worth viewing.

http://www.aish.com/movies/YomYerushalayim.asp

"Brother, Can You Spare a...Freelance Editing Gig?"

Being unemployed is hard work. No, really, it is. After working for so many years, and nearly twenty of them with one company, I have had to learn what to do with myself, how to fill my days. There is so much to do, I just don't know where to start.

I thought that this was what I wanted. I used to tell people, "I'd perhaps like to work part-time or just freelance from home."

And for a while, I did freelance -- mainly alongside my full-time job, and starting to do my editorial freelance work usually after 10 p.m., when the kids were in bed and the kitchen was cleaned up for the next day. But it kept my mind occupied and my skill set sharp.

It's over a year that I lost my job...sort of paving my own way out. I did get a severence package that was not great, even though I'd worked for so many years for the same company -- but I'd had a lowly job, nothing managerial.

And for a while after the job ending, I did have freelance gigs from time to time -- they kept my mind alert, and gave me a reason to find excuses not to do the morning dishes, not to do the laundry, etc.

But for some reason, those gigs have dried up. And I truly miss them, along with the cash they brought in.

When I first began to freelance circa 2000, I'd been very resourceful, and found myself a couple of publishers to do work for. Because I had a full-time job, I had to take on editorial jobs with far-off deadlines, which would allow for the work and courier travel time for the manuscript to get to and from the publishers. But my work was good, and the books were rather similar to those of my regular 9-5 job.

My name was also given out by someone with high recommendations, for which I'm thankful. But those high recommendations as well as the most flattering compliments after doing my first job for the person to whom I was referred made my ego swell somewhat. After all, being told that the person had never seen such a professional, excellent job of copy editing, and that "you're the only copy editor for me...we're going to be doing a lot of stuff together" would lead one to bank on it, don't you think?

Apparently, I'm not the "only copy editor" for this person because I've seldom seen a manuscript from them, when it was implied that it would be a regular gig.

I've been looking not only for freelance but for full-time editorial and / or social services work (my volunteer experience over the years has been in that field), and I'm starting to feel pressure. I really don't want to settle for just any kind of job that is meant to bring in a pay check, but that might be the route I have to take.

I have beautiful trees on my property, but a money tree is not one of them!

If anyone has any need for an editor/copy editor/proofreader/speech writer/copywriter/researcher, or knows someone who does, please contact me. I'd like to think that I'm good at what I do -- because I've been told that; not because I think so -- and would like to share my skills and knowledge with others.

Some Members of Congregation Shluf

This is only a small contingent of Congregation Shluf, aka the Chaverim Minyan.

You may have a better understanding of the members when you read this post that I wrote almost two years ago.

Smile...