The Shoe Fits...

B"H, 

...But Can You Dance In It?

"They fit.  They are beautiful.  Can you stand in them?  Try walking.  Okay, not bad, you just found your wedding shoes," said my aunt and my mother.

Two days later my dear friend and colleague took a look at my wedding dress and shoes.  "You will never make it through the day in those things," she said pointing at the white silk, embroidered and beaded shoes.  "Get white satin slip-ons.  No one will know the difference but you.  And you will be grateful to me, I guarantee you.  As soon as the ceremony is over and you guys have a few moments of privacy just change shoes.  When you come in for supper you will feel wonderful and comfortable."  And Lisel was right.

I wonder often about the passion that demands everything look right.  Those silk shoes were exquisite.  I could stand in them.  I could even walk in them.  But I could never dance in them with joy and zest.  

Matchmaker, Matchmaker

B"H, 

A Mensch is a Mensch

"Anna, you have an appointment with the Kollel ladies this Tuesday," Alizah said to me.  

"Thank you.  What is this all about?"  I asked.

"They are starting a new matchmaking service.  They want to connect with other like groups all over the country and all over the globe.  I've told you before, you'll never know what they have to offer unless you check them out."  Alizah, my childhood friend, has been trying to find me a husband for years.  And I have had some interesting adventures thanks to her arrangements.  

"If my experience serves me well, I do believe that they will check me out.  Okay, I'll go.  What time?" 

Alizah smiles, "two o'clock in the afternoon.  Their office is across the street from our favorite pizza place."

Into the Lions' Den

B"H, 

Puellam Meam magis quam oculos meos amo*. 

There are those who say that it takes courage to be a cancer patient.  I don't know... I don't think so necessarily.  It does take something.  It takes the same something that life in general demands of us all.  Perhaps the "something-list" of essential attributes would include understanding, cooperation, hard work, fortitude, endurance, partnership, love of life, and FAITH.  I did not choose the challenges of this path.  Do any of us choose to be born?   But it was the path I was travelling.  Something had seemed wrong for quite a while, so, when the diagnosis of cancer arrived I did experience a sense of relief.  Thank G-d, I am not crazy.  I did not, however, feel full of courage.  

Who are the people who are filled with courage?  Those folks who walk into the lions' den knowing their destination and its dangers are certainly courageous.   Don't you think?  

A Big Sister

B"H,

Adored for Life

Dear Bailah,

Greetings to you and your husband.  Again, I extend my heartfelt thanks to you both for all the help you are giving Mom and Dad.  I am as grateful to you as I am sorry that being a cancer patient and living out of town have made me unable to help.  Thank you for your understanding and acceptance. 

You know, I believe that we are good sisters even if we are not busom buddies.  In the long run it gives Mom and Dad a broader spectrum of help and assistance than what they would have had were we alike in thought, manner, and deed.  Now, as they are preparing to move near me and my family, I want you to know and remember how much I love you.  You are and will always be my big sister.  I have adored you my entire life and will continue to adore you. 

You were a tough act to follow.  Always smarter, more wise in the world, more aware, more responsible, very hard working, and astonishingly beautiful.  I grew up in your shadow.  All through school I was called by your name just as often if not more so than I was called by my own.  Even the kids in my class wanted my help with you.  They wanted you to know them... they thought you so beautiful.  I was only good enough to be a bridge to you.  But I did not mind because I loved and adored you with all my might which is why it was always painful for me to be unwelcomed in your world. 

Years Ago Last Night

B"H,

A Letter from my Bubbe

(written 36 years ago)

(Mail arrived in the evening)

Page 1

This letter has six pages.  I labelled each one so you know how to read it.  Dearest Anna:

It was so considerate of you to write the letter to me.  I read it over and over again.  But, first thing I did was to call Avram and Sara.  They were very happy to hear that you are okay.  Your letter is very interesting.  It shows that you  are very busy.  You are not wasting any time. 

We are having summer in Chicago.  The weather is pleasant.  It is a lot better than winter.  Yaakov took me to Avram's store.  Your mother looked very beautiful and she likes the business.  And your father is happy, but looks tired.  Avram is a very hard working man. 

Stressfration

B"H,

In keeping with the spirit of the moment

We stand side by side at the stove in perfect mirror symmetry.  My mother the lefty and me the righty.  I have been in the hospital for surgery.  Mom and Dad came to visit and to hold the fort together.  On my first day home I can find absolutely nothing in my own kitchen.  How could this be?  My mother, my wonderful loving Mom, has been working in my kitchen in my absence, cooking and cleaning, and putting everything away where it belongs.  ... not necessarily where she found it ... rather, where it belongs.  I would like to scream but it would hurt too much by pulling on my stitches or staples or whatever the doctor used to close up my gut. 

"Mom, do you remember when I was little and I did not want to do what you told me to do?  You said to me that this was your house and I had to do things your way.  You also said that when I grew up and had a home of my own I could do things my way.  Don't you believe that the moment has finally and certainly arrived?!  I have a husband and two children and my own house with a kitchen.  I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING HERE AND THIS IS MY KITCHEN!"

"Anna, I put things where they belong.  Just because you set up your kitchen incorrectly does not mean it has to stay wrong."

"Mom, I am raising my kids a certain way.  I am very curious as to what they will do with this up-bringing when they go out into the world on their own.  Weren't you curious as to what Bailah and I would do once we entered the world on our own?"

Inherit the Heart

B"H 

Observations and Recommendations

We left family, friends, and places behind us that year.  With no job possibilities on our familiar turf we left town.  Sam's family was livid.  "Tell him you refuse to leave your parents," they commanded me.  "I'm married to him not to them," I told them.  "Tell him you won't go!" their desperation screamed.  "If he goes, I go, and we take the baby, too," I responded. 

Well, Sam and I and our new baby boy left the grasping tumult and landed in a town with a job.  Was it the best job he had ever worked? ... no.  Were his bosses the most honorable folks we had ever known? ... no.  It was a job that Sam elevated again and again by his pure heart, ever growing standards, and  unfailing hard work.  That one year nearly crushed him and by domino effect it bumped me too.  Thank G_d we survived, thank G_d, thank G_d. 

Sweet Dreams

B"H,

Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite!



No one in my family ever sleeps at night.  They go on fantastic adventures.  They return to schools of unknown sorts.  They travel to other continents and even to other worlds.  They visit hell.  They talk to the dead and to the living.  They make so much noise at night in their dream world waves that I cannot sleep.  And so, I listen to their nocturnal scripts again and again and again. 

My son squeals with delight, "wheeeeee, whoooo-haaaah, wow!"

He laughs and giggles while he calls out for more space ships, again and again.  My daughter sings and dances with butterflies and fairies and a pig named Mercy.  My poor husband, sleep deprived for decades, barely chokes out the words, "help me!"  It is so desperate in tone and inflection I want to cry but I don't.  I tell myself it is only a dream. 

And she was always right...

B"H,

She joins her great love...

Shira Leah:  Here you go.  (She hands me a pair of very old and very beautiful earrings.) 

Anna:  They are magnificent.  Here you go.  (As I hand them back to my godmother.) 

SL:  No, they are yours now.  I am taking care of business.  That is part one.  Part two is this.  (She hands me an empty bullet shell that had been transformed into a mezuzah that you would put on a chain and wear around your neck.  Much rougher and gruffer in appearance than the earrings though clearly more dear to the heart than the gold and gemstones.)  This was Joe's bar mitzvah present, after his first slug of shnapps and the piece of kichel.  His mother gave this to him.   It was the only thing left in his hands from her.  He died with this in his fist.  He is gone, oy, my Joe, my Joe.  I don't want it to be thrown away.  Keep it.  You'll have a son someday.  Your  son will understand what this means. 

A:  (Looking at the simple, modest mezuzah and imagining Joe's mother putting it around his thirteen year old neck.)  Thank you, thank you.  You know, Shira Leah,  you are not dead yet.  You don't have to do this. 

SL:  Maydel, maydel, maydchen... who knows what the next moment will bring?  I am just making sure that the right thing happens. 

The Three Fates

B"H

A Real Job?

My first real jobs were dreadful or perhaps I was dreadful.  Don't really know or remember but I do recall that the library job made me nuts.  I had three supervisors:  the oldest was a retired military librarian; the middle-aged one was a spinster with the warmest heart who tried to help me with her smile; and the young University of Chicago Library School graduate who had no self esteem whatsoever, though we didn't talk about such things then, cried on my shoulder.  By the time I finished listening to all of their instructions and assignments I had nothing to do and no way to do it.  They stuck me in a little room in the bowels of the library.  I did sit at this magnificent old wooden desk well used, I could tell.  The new typewriter stared at me.  And I stared at it as I typed cards for the author, title, and subject card catalogue.  The cards apparently had to be perfect.  One mistake and I was instructed by the general to start all over on a fresh new card.  I was not allowed to correct a single mistake.  This puzzled me.  As a student I was using this card catalogue system.  The very oldest cards in the catalogue were handwritten in Old Librarian Hand, a very clean and clear script.  Some of those cards had corrections in the form of crossing out and continuing.  I suppose that in those olden days no one could afford to buy as many boxes of cards as surrounded me day-in and day-out.  What a task I had for the times when there was nothing else to do. 

A New Book?

B"H

Chapter One:  A Mystery Unfolds?



The address book ...

Beatrice, the day you died I spent the entire afternoon and evening on the telephone.  Your address book gave me all the numbers I needed to call.  But, there was something odd about the entries.  Only one person was named, the blood relation, not the spouse.  Telli and Isidore, for example were married over sixty years.  Yet, Isidore was the only name that graced your entry for the family. 

Do you remember the day?  I was so hurt when you told me to my face that I was not family and never would be.  I believed your shunning me was unique and deeply personal.  But you shunned Telli also.  And she had more right to be called family than I ever did.  If you could dismiss Telli then I was in very good company.  Telli was a great and gracious lady endowed with exquisite modesty. 

The Stuff of Living

B"H, 

The Twists and Turns of Life, 

So many surprises,

So many lessons,

So much mystery.

My dolls and stuffed animals disappeared one day.  There were no announcements.  It just happened.  No explanations.  It just happened.  Even my bride doll that sat on the silk cushion on my bedspread vanished.  I asked no questions.  I made no comments.  I was young.  Perhaps I was in third grade.  What was I to do?  No one to play with now, my imagination travelled inward.  Oh, suddenly, there was a piano.  Were music lessons my consolation prize?  Who knows?  But, I became a student with the same passion that I experienced when I played with my toys.  Perhaps I studied with even more intensity.  

Years later, I found my dolls and animals in a box in the basement.  I sat there surrounded by all my old friends and cried, "I never let you go.  You were taken from me."  Then I heard someone coming down the stairs.  I quickly packed everyone up and put the box back into storage.  Thank G-d, I now knew where they lived.  

I met my son twenty years before he was born

B"H,

Bubbe Raisel Goes Shopping:

On a mission



 The conversation...

Bubbe Raisel - You have to get married for the sake of your son.  ...  Here hold this.  (She passes a blue shirt-dress to her granddaughter.)

Anna - Wait, Bubbe, what son?  (hanging the dress back on the rack)

B.R. - Your son.  Here hold this.  (a beautiful paisley silk scarf that would have matched that dress)

A. - (putting the scarf down)  My son!  What son!  There has to be a guy!

B.R. - That's what I'm talking about.  Here hold this.  (a beautiful blue lace camisole that would have matched the dress AND the scarf)

A. - (placing the camisole back on the display counter)  Oy, Bubbe, I'm busy.  I'm studying, I'm teaching. 

B.R. -  Why do you think we are shopping today?  You need to get married for the sake of your son!  (They are walking around as the older lady re-gathers the dress, the scarf, and the camisole.)  Here, don't put these down again.  Hold them.

In Memory of L.K.G.: Therefore Choose Life!

B"H, 

Relive the Creation of the World*

MIDNIGHT

Dina:  Moshe, wake up my love.  The telephone...

Reb Moshe Abramovitsch*:  Dina, thank you.  I am waking up.  Please remember, it is not the telephone, it is a person in distress.


D to RMA:  Yes, yes, yes.


D to Anna (person on the phone):  Hello, my dear.  The rabbi will be here in a moment.  


A:  Oh, I shouldn't be calling.  She's not dead ...


D:  Where are you?


A:  Weiss Memorial Hospital, the I.C.U.


D:  It's good that you called.  Here, the rabbi is ready for you.  


A to D:  Thank you. 


RMA:  Rabbi Moshe Abramovitsch speaking.  How may I help you?


A:  I'm sorry, sorry.  I shouldn't... She's not dead... I can't...  I made a mistake.  I'm so sorry that I woke you and your wife.