Happy Trails to You

It’s wonderful sharing adventures with you.

a spoon is a spoon or is it something else?

Our grandson, the little one here, insists that a fork is a “poon” and a spoon is a fork. If you offer him a fork, he’ll correct you and say “a poon”. And visa-versa. And so at dinner tonight, take-out from Sushi Metsuyan, he spits out the spicy fish poppers, but eats the tofu and the grilled mango from the Nakate Tofu and as much of the California roll that his brother will give him, but takes a new “poon” each time he returns from walking away from the table. And leaves his ice cream to go back to more tofu.

You see, he’s two years old now and the world is his. If you say that a certain item is yours, he’ll correct you and say it’s his. So it’s his toys and his booster seat and his bike and his bike helmet (the pink one and the blue one) and his gloves (all the pairs that he can put his hands on) and his hat. His brother’s hat, his old hat, and anything else that goes on his head. Especially the doll hat. We returned a doll hat that someone in his family had left at our house. He insisted that he could wear it. We tried to let a toy bear wear the hat and he thought that was a hoot. No, it belonged on his head. But the bear was allowed to wear a scarf, something that had come off one of his sister’s shirts. After all, it was very cold today and the bear needed to be warm.

It’s extraordinary to watch someone learn to play and represent the world in symbols, while still owning the world.

I would publish a gallery of the little one’s wearing of the hats, but I won’t. I will publish other photos later when we return to home. In the meantime, we’re enjoying not being home and just being at home in the universe.

how do you celebrate?

Well, 36 years is not a little thing. Sometimes, getting through one day is a humongous miracle.

Seriously.

And the problem with any passage of time is that it just happens. Unless we do something to mark it, then it just flows like the ocean, tides in and out, waves fierce and calm, but basically just always there. So that’s the idea of holiday, marking time in a special way to make it unique, memorable, and then able to build on the memories.

We wanted to get married. Our family had to tell us when would be a good time for them to come to Israel 36 years ago. My BIL was at Harvard Law at the time, and this was the time he had available to travel. It was, apparently, not so good for my siblings, but no one informed us of that at the time. Sorry about that. Really. So we chose what turned into a wonderful time to get married in Jerusalem that year, coinciding with MLK Day in America.

Here’s something I just learned–

Bonus fact: MLK’s birthday became a holiday in 1986, but some states were slow to adopt it.  It would not be celebrated in all 50 states until 2000, and Mississippi celebrates it in conjunction with the birthday of Confederate General Robert E. Lee, born January 19, 1807.

The fact that it is a national holiday has been advantageous for us since then to make it into a 3-day personal holiday, and we try to get away every year.

We have tried to go away every year, certainly since the kids have been out of the house, and then also for a number of times before that. Mostly we go up north. I wrote about our adventure two years ago here. Last year, we were tied into shul obligations, so we were stuck here for then.

Is it ironic or is it funny that we would rather leave our very comfortable home and go away for a few days? Why don’t we just stay put and “take a few days off”? And can you ever get away, with instant access everywhere these days?

Yes and yes and yes.

So this year, since ISHI is obligated due to his father’s passing to go to shul and say kaddish for him, we are confined to go to areas with Orthodox shuls. Not so much up north in New England, unfortunately. Plus, D#1 asked us to babysit this Sunday night for an occasion that they must attend. Their little one still doesn’t do babysitters so much, but he does THANK G-D tolerate us, so could we come?

Yes and yes! So we’ll start off with family and then go into Manhattan for a few days, hit the museums, hit a couple of nice kosher restaurants (any suggestions?), and let the good times roll on.

I still have to figure out what to pack. Always such a good dilemma!

Photos, hopefully, to follow.

january is to marriage as

December is to birthdays.

Or May.

Or September, at least in our family.

D#1 (and spouse’s) 11th anniversary is this coming Saturday, our double-Chai (36!!) is Sunday, and what would have been my parents’ 60th is the 20th.

So that’s the main reason I started thinking I should write about marriage. “Tis the season, is all. Plus the fact that ISHI has been spending an inordinate amount of time (what an amazing phrase, come to think of it) lately dealing with other people’s troubles in marriage.

I am wary of a lot of people who put themselves out there as experts. I have a natural or nurtured disdain of charisma, and I avoid such people like the the clichéd plague. There is great wisdom out there about the value of a sustained marriage, but I have not found any books written on marriage from an Orthodox Jewish angle that satisfy my needs. John Gottman is identifiably Jewishly observant and is of course, an expert, but he does not (maybe thankfully?) approach his science from a Torah point of view. Perhaps that is for us in the Orthodox world to take the information and apply it with Torah principles.

Sure, I can do that.

I am, at the moment, reading a book called The secret lives of wives : women share what it really takes to stay married by Iris Krasnow.

I will take a moment to report on one of the comments to the book before I reveal my take. Here’s Carol’s take, from a comment on Amazon:

I heard about this book on The Talk. Sounded good. They all raved about it. It was very boring and I could not wait to be done with it. I like mysteries. Also the author told about the people interviewed and then quoted what they said. Then the author talked about it again. Very boring. Don’t waste your money.

Or should that be ?

So anyway, I’m finding it more intriguing than I thought I would, since it is, as Carol said, just what other people said. But of course, it’s how she puts it together and the messages that do come across, quite loud and sincere. I was reading the book last night as I served as the shomeret for the mikveh.  One woman, who I really only have a relationship with in this capacity these days (I wrote about her here), said to me as she was leaving the mikveh, “Teach me something. I always love your wisdom.”

Um, thanks. Shouldn’t you be in (more of) a hurry to get home? (Not out loud, don’t worry.)

So why not? I quoted the last thing that I had read in this book.

The fantasy is that I could leave and be happier. The truth is that I could leave and still be unhappy. (p. 72)

Why not that one?

I gulped to myself, because really? Was that the best one just because it was the last one?

I added quickly that loyalty was probably the most important ingredient, but that depended on what modeling you had as a child just as much as what you do.

So she said, “Yes, I love that quote. I often say about marriage you need three things–commitment, communication, and…”

Okay, I’m being all Rick Perry right now, because I really don’t remember the last thing she said of the three, but then she added in another statement. And that’s what I really remembered.

“You might be surprised that I didn’t say respect. But that’s because every human being deserves that from everyone.”

I didn’t counter her. I wanted her to go home and let her think I agreed with her. But I disagree heartily.

That cannot go without saying.

I’ve had some women say to me that if they don’t feel their husbands respect them, or visa-versa, can there be any hope?

Yes, there must be respect. If that has withered or faded or if it never existed, then that’s a big sign of trouble.

With marriage, nothing should be assumed.

the inestimable value of a locked door

Here are a few of the hardest things about sitting shiva, or my perspective of my husband’s shiva, at least. Again, in no particular order, unless I order it that way.

• When you’re sitting shiva alone without other family members, then it’s really hard to eat, since there’s no one else who you can tag-team visitors with. Of course, people are very understanding that you need to eat, but since they just got there…so I had to be the meany and announce often that ISHI hadn’t eaten. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. On multiple days.

• People don’t think. If a door is closed and another one is open, go through the open door. Do people really use their front doors? We don’t, except for Pesach at the sedarim, when we open that door for Eliyahu. Mostly we don’t use the front door because we don’t want people dragging the mud through the house, even though we do have a little vestibule (Yes, T, we could use it; I know). But then, where do you put the coats and all? Moreover, we don’t shovel the walkway up to that door. Wouldn’t you know that people still shlepp up to that door, even when there is snow on the ground (i.e. shnorrer alert)? So of course, ironically, when we ended up opening that door for a while when the weather was nice one day,  people still used the other door. So bottom line, look. Pay attention.

• I won’t start up about the difficulty of the rabbi bit; it comes with the territory. It was bizarre for all these people to show up here, like for a shiur, people who don’t make Torah a regular part of their lives past listening to the weekly drashah, if they do show up on time and/or are listening, and here he couldn’t teach. But he could teach by example.

• People who brought cooked food, even though I requested none. ISHI can’t eat so many things  that it’s just not worth explaining to people. Here’s an example of that reasoning.

“I brought you some applesauce, even though I know you said no food. There’s no sugar or anything in it.”

“Um, thanks, but ISHI doesn’t eat apples. Maybe one of the kids will want it.”

Or maybe not.

On the other hand, people did bring lots of uncooked food which has been great. And the fresh apples have been greatly appreciated by my stomach, in particular.

I know. People want to do something. Suggestion? Just show up. And listen.

• Having to close my door for privacy, but having no privacy. Having the door open all the time. But the following is a story that occurred on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, after I could close and lock my outside door. ISHI and I had come home from lunch at my sister’s. The kids would follow later, on their own. Since it looked like impending rain, and since I was working off a major sleep deficit (when am I not?), I decided not to go to Tashlich. D#1 comes home with her youngest, but the two big ones had gone to Tashlich with their father. You know what happens next–the sky opens up with such force that we’re thinking it’s another hurricane. After running around to close all the windows and mop up the wet mess, I get around to opening the side door, just so that they can come right in, since we’re sure they’ve been caught in the rain and they’re soaking wet…

Sure enough, the door opens and we hear a voice call out, “Hello?” But it’s not one of the kids, or our SIL, or ISHI, but a friend. A sopping wet friend. He had been learning at another shul in town and left in what he thought would be enough time to get to our shul for Minchah. But as he already had passed our house and was down the street, he realized he would get sick if he didn’t get out of the rain and out of the clothes. Fast. He thought about where he could get clothes that would reasonably fit him and so he came right in. Yes, he and ISHI are about the same size, so I found him somewhat appropriate clothing (although I don’t think he ever wore Lands’ End before–the man is a very classy dresser). I even sprung for 2 plastic bags for him to put in his shoes, since I couldn’t begin to find substitutions in the dark…And of course, a rain poncho. Always have extra ones for guests, I say. Ironies abound, and that’s what keeps us humble.

• Maybe the hardest one of all, without any ranting but maybe it should be: not being able to hug my husband. I know that when my mother died, I really didn’t want to be touched. I was really pulling away from everyone, except for the kiddies. They were true comfort. But here, I felt that I was being punished, even though I wasn’t in mourning. And if the week is about comforting the mourner, and I know that would have comforted him, can’t the halakhah take that into account? Or is it too much about straight categorization and no gradation?

bentching to katy perry

If I were really good at doing graphics (okay, if I could do them at all, rather than just copy stuff), I would make two very large circles and then make them intersect. You know, Venn diagrams. And I would list all the things that were the same in the intersecting parts of the circle, and all the things that were different in the two unshared parts.

Oh, what am I talking about?

You know the phrase “You can’t dance at two weddings?” Oh, I can provide a graphic for that:

Apparently, the Yiddish improves upon the German phrase with the addition of the tuchus.

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, at two weddings. But they couldn’t have been more different while being the same.

So I’ll start with the same.

They were both Jewish weddings, both in the same approximate area (so we could think about attempting to drag our tuchusses to the two), both in the evening, both first marriages, both with family drama in the background, both with many non-Jews attending, both with beautiful flowers, beautiful brides, and beautifully beaming families. And smaller crowds than many weddings I’ve been involved with. Oh, and ISHI was not officiating at either of them.

I think that covers the intersecting area.

Now for the differences:

The first wedding had a bride who was 20 years old. It was low-key, mostly filled with young women who looked like they had never been to a wedding before. They didn’t come up to the bride when she entered the room, and had to be coaxed to come see her. The men went in their little room and there wasn’t really a chance to see what they were like. Although really for the first time, I did not have any interest or curiosity to see what was happening. There were also a number of people there who were so informally dressed that they must have thought they were going to a wedding in Israel. Israel weddings are nicely informal, so that the emphasis is on the joy and the simchah, rather than the production of the event.

Although I’ve never seen anyone bring food to the chuppah and sit down with their little kids on the runway so they can continue eating.

One of the little children, whose mother was letting wander around, was headed right to the keyboard to play something interesting, I’m sure. One of the (2) musicians sat quickly down to prevent any mis-notes. The photographer, who was poised at that part of the runway to catch photos, took a moment to show the toddler (who was a girl, btw) her camera. Someone from the family came over to take a photo of that, which was a sign of the times. You know, the picture inside the picture, which I guess is what we all experience. Are we living in the moment, or are we running to catch something for another time, thereby missing the experience we’re so eager to catch?

This was a wedding where the bride is in a hurry to grow up. I suggested to the mother that she remind her daughter to play. Not to play house, but to play. The chosson looked scared to death.

The irony is that this 20 year-old looked older than the other bride, who is twice her age. She and her husband don’t need that reminder about playing. They’ve got that down nicely.

So that leads me to the second wedding.

Since ISHI was asked to read the ketubah for the first one, we had to wait and wait for the first one. So we didn’t get to the second one for a while. The first one was supposed to start at 4, with the chuppah at 5. The second one was scheduled at 5, so that’s why we had the thought we could do both. We didn’t get there until 6:30. The first people we saw were the bride and groom. That meant not only was the chuppah long finished, but so were the photos. Although, since it was not an Orthodox wedding, perhaps they had all the photos earlier. I do know that they looked relaxed. They were having fun.

As I mentioned, the second bride was 40 years old. She had a number of rotten relationships and I think she was convinced she would never find the right guy. Well, thank G-d for friends. An old friend (who she’s been friends with almost as long as the other bride has been alive) had met this wonderful fellow and persisted for a year and a half until they agreed to meet.

Not a shidduch. A real friend.

Now, the reality was that we could not dance at either wedding. The first we didn’t stay for the dancing; the second, well, it wasn’t quite appropriate musical style or opportunity. Sure, they had a “horah” opportunity, but well…not for a proper Orthodox rabbi’s wife to join.

And the big band with the black singer perfecting Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl, but still not an opportunity to dance.

And the title of this blog?

How else do you bentch?

The Silver Platter: a poem for Yom HaZikaron

May 8, 2011 by eJP   

This year we remember:
22,867 fallen soldiers, 183 more since last Memorial Day and
2,443 civilian victims of terror, 13 more this past year.

“A State is not handed to a people on a silver platter.”
Chaim Weizmann, first president of Israel

The Silver Platter
Nathan Altermam

The Earth grows still.
The lurid sky slowly pales
Over smoking borders.
Heartsick, but still living, a people stand by
To greet the uniqueness
of the miracle.

Readied, they wait beneath the moon,
Wrapped in awesome joy, before the light.
– Then, soon,
A girl and boy step forward,
And slowly walk before the waiting nation;

In work garb and heavy-shod
They climb
In stillness.
Wearing yet the dress of battle, the grime
Of aching day and fire-filled night

Unwashed, weary unto death, not knowing rest,
But wearing youth like dewdrops in their hair.
– Silently the two approach
And stand.
Are they of the quick or of the dead?

Through wondering tears, the people stare.
“Who are you, the silent two?”
And they reply: “We are the silver platter
Upon which the Jewish State was served to you.”

And speaking, fall in shadow at the nation’s feet.
Let the rest in Israel’s chronicles be told.

We’ve been asked to share what’s not mine to share

economics of love

ISHI has spent an inordinate amount of time lately with couples in trouble. I have been not writing about this because it’s painful to observe and I haven’t figured out what to write about it, not that I’ve figured out yet, either. But today being Valentine’s Day, I figure it’s about the best time to do so or forever hold my peace.

Or is it piece?

No, we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, if you were going to ask me. It’s the same thing as Mothers’ Day. We’re not commanded to respect our mothers one day a year. And the comparison is extremely apt, actually. The commercialization of these days is the same thing that gets marriages in trouble. And so people, ironically, are more into weddings than they are into marriage. Weddings are bigger business than ever. I guess the old thing of hope springing eternal is hard at work here.

But that’s the problem. Hope is at work, but people aren’t. Marriage is hard. Or it is easy. But it is never the same and you can’t predict or anticipate everything that is going to happen that will affect how you feel.

Or can you?

There is a new book out Spousonomics that claims to be able to do that through economic models. I’m curious but not convinced. I will probably read the book, but I also might wait to get it out from the library.

I could write my own book (yes, why don’t I?) and I should, really, I know. But I’m not convinced I know the TRUTH. I know I’m very lucky to have found a great mate, and I’m very lucky that I had great role models in my parents, and I’m very lucky that I am quick to get angry but have learned to get over myself pretty quickly. Well, most of the time. But I’m also very lucky that I keep learning and relearning and re-looking at the world and really what it comes down to is grateful.

fruit salad fruit salad

Thanksgiving Eve

Words & Music by Bob Franke

It’s so easy to dream of the days gone by
It’s a hard thing to think of the times to come
But the grace to accept ev’ry moment as a gift
Is a gift that is given to some

Chorus:

What can you do with your days but work & hope
Let your dreams bind your work to your play
What can you do with each moment of your life
But love til you’ve loved it away
Love til you’ve loved it away

There are sorrows enough for the whole world’s end
There are no guarantees but the grave
And the life that I live & the time I have spent
Are a treasure too precious to save

As it was so it is, as it is shall it be
And it shall be while lips that kiss have breath
Many waters indeed only nurture Love’s seed
And its flower overshadows the power of death

(Hear it here)