OY!

B"H

Do We Ever Know the Whole Story?

"It's not good to get old." 

That's what Beatrice had the chutzpah to say to me, ... TO ME ... while I was in the middle of my second round of chemotherapy.  I stood there in her apartment waiting for her to get ready to come to us for dinner.   She is toddling around her apartment looking for something, her glasses perhaps.  One of those things that you need in order to find.  Oh well, I was ready to scream but all I said was that it looked good to me.  Maybe it was the missing glasses.  Did she not see how bald I was from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.  No eyebrows, no eyelashes, BALD.   ... I resembled my baby pictures all thanks to this chemotherapy.  Getting old, raising my family to meet milestones like bar/bat mitzvah, chupah (the wedding canopy), grandchildren, the next generation, another gift to the world... maybe they will improve on the mess we leave to them.  Getting old sounded good to me. 

What was it that made her thoughtlessly bad mouth her gift and blessing of time in my presence?  Ver Veys! (Who knows?!)

Vodka with Cracked Pepper

B"H,

To Speak For Oneself

He was two years old and we were at the pediatric clinic for his well child check-up.  Nurse Joy reached out for my baby boy and he for her.  Everyone was all smiles and giggles.  The few preliminaries done, it was time for the doctor.  Out walked Nurse Joy with waves and flying kisses, in walks the pediatrician with the stillness of a thoughtful leader which she was.  Doctor Mann was the chairman of pediatrics in the medical school, for this was a teaching hospital's clinic.  She reviewed the nurse's notes with me and proceeded to ask me questions about my little guy.  It was a small exam room, I suppose for the small people, so the doctor could stand between me and my baby boy who was sitting quietly on the exam bench while we were both next to him.  Isaac tapped Dr. Mann on the shoulder, "Isaac is here," he said.  She stopped looking at me as she stopped talking with me.  She turned to look at my baby, "Oh, should I be asking you these questions?" she said moving her reading glasses to the tip of her nose while getting a better look at this tiny guy.  All business now my son said, "yes," as manly as a two year old could muster.  The interview and exam continued, now between the doctor and the baby.  I sat there watching and listening to my son conduct himself with purpose and responsibility while looking at his toes.  He just would not look at the doctor after the initial "yes".  Dr. Mann was all business and so was Isaac as they approached the final question, "Are you a happy baby?"  With a sober face and eyes firmly gazing still at his toes the answer was, "yes".  Dr. Mann turned to me, "you have a happy child" she said with a smile and a laugh. 

Commune with Joy

B"H

Purim

24.March.1940.

First Purim Under Nazi Occupation

When I was a child I thought that the holidays were great!  So,it puzzled me tremendously to hear and to read reports that the holiday season is a difficult time for many, many people.  Decades later, a significant number of decades later since I am now middle-aged, I begin to understand in my own way that there exist these difficulties which can burden us when we are supposed to be celebrating. 

All the more so in 1940, among the Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto.  The historian Shimon Huberband says at that time that "the mood was terrible; the predominant spirit wasn't of Purim but of Tisha B'Av."

A Friend in Need

B"H,

In Gesture & Deed

The Hand of Comfort

And Guidance

To be alive commands and demands a commitment to action without interference from all of the meshugas (crazinesses and stupidities).  This devotion to action, to the things that MUST be done, without interference from our emotions, moods, and perceptions is possible.  If it were impossible, then the Slonimer rabbi of the late 19th century would never have suggested this advice to my zayde.  BUT, my grandfather's teacher did mention that it is not an easy pursuit.

A New World

B"H

The Place Where Prayers Are Born



Mommy, Mommy, look!  a train!

Mommy, oh, Mommy, a truck, over there!

Oh, Mommy, LOOK!

These were the sounds of my life when my son, my first child, was a toddler.   I heard a running commentary on the trucks, trains, cars, and planes that came past us every wakeful moment.  And then, one day, it stopped.  My son was almost four years old.  One day, then two days of silence, by the third day I was worried.  He did not seem ill, just quiet, too quiet. 

I spoke up, "you always told me when to look for the train and the train tracks.  You were always letting me know about the trucks on the road and the airplanes in the sky.  Now, you say nothing.  Are you okay?"

"Oh, Mommy," he said with his eyes opening big and wide, "I found this amazing place.  In order to hear everything, see everything, and experience everything there, I must be very quiet." 

"My guy," said I in relief, tremendous relief, "do you know what this place is?"  He shook his head.  "It is you," I continued, "it is your inner realm, your inner eye, inner ear, inner heart.  This is you.  This is where your prayers and dreams are born.  You found it!"  He smiled.  "Now I know why you are so quiet.  It's okay.  Please learn this place well.  It will help you through life."  Now we both smiled.  

Dedication

B"H,

To Heal Regrets

Shopping in the winter months is easy when the weather is challenging and most people have decided to stay home. 

I wished my sales-lady a healthy, blessed New Year.  Betsy replied that it was already dreadful. 

"No, no, no!  You're healthy, you have a job, it couldn't possibly be awful just weeks into January.  Every day is a beautiful gift!"  I told her that  I was a cancer patient-survivor. 

And she told me that her best friend  had called her cell phone during the after Christmas rush when everything was on sale.  She was too busy working to take a personal call.  She simply looked to see who called and it made her smile to see her friend's name, Lana.  Things were crazy busy at work.  She was distracted by everything so much so, that she forgot about the call. 

Parashat Yitro of the Past

B"H

A Derashah

January 27, 1940

The Warsaw Ghetto

An inspiring man, Rabbi Kalmish Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto, was in hiding. 

"Blessed be the Name.  This Sabbath I was in hiding. 

...Israel's acceptance of the Torah took place in the desert.  This fact may suggest, among other things, a teaching found in the holy book, Bet Aharon, which states, "Don't say that in this place it is possible to serve G-d, but in that place it is impossible for me.  Rather, one must serve G-d in all places."