Posts
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“…Wisdom is better than strength: nevertheless the poor man's wisdom is despised, and his words are not heard.”
- Ecclesiastes 9:16
Last week, right before Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year, I was sequestered with my wife, Dahlia, and her parents in Radisson hotel near the Rochester Airport for 4 days.
We’ve all had our parents jabber on and on, oblivious to our lack of interest. That’s what family get-togethers are all about!
I remember, on several occasions, my father and mother ending a conversation with the following exchange:
Dad: “Okay, that’s enough.”
Mom: “Hey, I’m talking!”
Dad: “Yeah, but you’re not SAYING anything!”
Frustrating… and yet, sometimes, it’s those pointless discussions that can often be the highlight of a day’s discourse.
Here is a brief conversation I had with my in-laws, sitting in the gazebo outside of the aforementioned Radisson. I tried to be heard, but I was ignored… thank God. We were discussing first names:
Mom-in-law: Sometimes men have women’s names, too.
Dad-in-law: That’s right, like John Wayne. Didn’t he have a woman’s name?
Me: Marion.
Mom-in-law: Yes, he did. What was it?
Me: Marion.
Dad-in-law: I don’t know.
Me: It was Marion.
Mom-in-law: Some men are named Leslie.
Dad-in-law: That’s true.
Me: It was Marion.
Mom-in-law: My old high school principal was named Leslie
Dad-in-law: Maybe John Wayne was a Leslie.
Me: He was Marion.
Mom-in-law: No he was my vice principal… Leslie.
Dad-in-law: Yes, vice principal Leslie.
Mom-in-law: When men are named Leslie they usually go by “Les.”
Me: When men are named Marion they usually go by “John Wayne.”
Feels like family.
“What’s in a name? If you call a rose a turd, that don’t make it smell like shit.”
- Shakespeare… more or less
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Sunday, September 26
Friday, September 3
Knockin' on Heaven's Door
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“…Therefore shall ye lay up these my words in your heart and in your soul… And thou shalt write them upon the door posts of thine house, and upon thy gates”
-- Deuteronomy 11:18,20
This week, my wife and I affixed a mezuzah to our doorpost.
Kind of a big deal.
For those less informed—a mezuzah is a small rectangle box, usually one inch wide, 3 inches long. Inside the box is a piece of parchment that includes several verses from the Torah, including the above verses, and others that praise God's oneness, like the Sh'mah prayer (Deuteronomy 6:4-9, 11:13-21).
Jews nail a mezuzah to the doorpost of their house.
Why?
So they can ward off evil spirits!
And solicitors.
Actually, that’s not far off. It reminds us of the final of the Ten Plagues that God sent to punish the ancient Egyptians for enslaving my ancestors! Yay! In this biblical equation, the Jews are Whitney Houston and God is Kevin Costner.
“And I… ee-I… ee-I… will always love Jews.”
So, Moses instructed the Israelites—take a lamb, kill it, and rub its blood on the doorposts of their house.
Why?
And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are: and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt. (Exodus 12:13)
So God can magically turn water into blood, send frogs everywhere, and kill people—but can’t tell the circumcised slaves from the wealthy, cat-worshipping Egyptians.
TMBS!
(This Movie’s Bull Shit).
Okay, so NOW I’m taking umbrage with the veracity of the Bible (i.e., ‘dis here book ain’t the truth).
Anyway, it’s a nice tradition nowadays—Jews can tell the house of another Jew (for when we’re lost in a new neighborhood; or if we’re trick-or-treating and don’t want any candy with gelatin in it).
But affixing a mezuzah to one’s doorpost is a big deal—there’s a special blessing for it. It tells the world—this is my home, and it will be for… at least a while.
This is the first place that my wife and I can truly call home. That is why, the day we moved in—I carried her over the threshold—I have the hernia to prove it!... a hernia of love!
But I like a mezuzah because, like wearing a kippah (yarmulke, head-covering) it forces me to fight my inner demons—namely, I am self-conscious… about everything-- including my religion. I don’t like being loud on the street, arguing on the subway, dressing in “loud” colors or Public Displays of Affection (now, if you removed the “L” from the first word, then we could talk).
Well, Judaism says, “Screw you, Aaron, screw you and your hang-ups and insecurities. Wear that kippah in public, nail that mezuzah to your door—say it loud, you’re a Jew and you’re proud!” (God knows we’re a loud people… literally, God KNOWS it:
“And God heard their groaning…” (Exodus 2:24)
“And the LORD said, I have … heard their cry” (Ex 3:7)
“I have heard the murmurings of the children of Israel” (Ex 16:12)
And now, a kinky one!
“And I have also heard the groaning of the children of Israel, whom the Egyptians keep in bondage... (Ex 6:5)
Ha!
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“…Therefore shall ye lay up these my words in your heart and in your soul… And thou shalt write them upon the door posts of thine house, and upon thy gates”
-- Deuteronomy 11:18,20
This week, my wife and I affixed a mezuzah to our doorpost.
Kind of a big deal.
For those less informed—a mezuzah is a small rectangle box, usually one inch wide, 3 inches long. Inside the box is a piece of parchment that includes several verses from the Torah, including the above verses, and others that praise God's oneness, like the Sh'mah prayer (Deuteronomy 6:4-9, 11:13-21).
Jews nail a mezuzah to the doorpost of their house.
Why?
So they can ward off evil spirits!
And solicitors.
Actually, that’s not far off. It reminds us of the final of the Ten Plagues that God sent to punish the ancient Egyptians for enslaving my ancestors! Yay! In this biblical equation, the Jews are Whitney Houston and God is Kevin Costner.
“And I… ee-I… ee-I… will always love Jews.”
So, Moses instructed the Israelites—take a lamb, kill it, and rub its blood on the doorposts of their house.
Why?
And the blood shall be to you for a token upon the houses where ye are: and when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and the plague shall not be upon you to destroy you, when I smite the land of Egypt. (Exodus 12:13)
So God can magically turn water into blood, send frogs everywhere, and kill people—but can’t tell the circumcised slaves from the wealthy, cat-worshipping Egyptians.
TMBS!
(This Movie’s Bull Shit).
Okay, so NOW I’m taking umbrage with the veracity of the Bible (i.e., ‘dis here book ain’t the truth).
Anyway, it’s a nice tradition nowadays—Jews can tell the house of another Jew (for when we’re lost in a new neighborhood; or if we’re trick-or-treating and don’t want any candy with gelatin in it).
But affixing a mezuzah to one’s doorpost is a big deal—there’s a special blessing for it. It tells the world—this is my home, and it will be for… at least a while.
This is the first place that my wife and I can truly call home. That is why, the day we moved in—I carried her over the threshold—I have the hernia to prove it!... a hernia of love!
But I like a mezuzah because, like wearing a kippah (yarmulke, head-covering) it forces me to fight my inner demons—namely, I am self-conscious… about everything-- including my religion. I don’t like being loud on the street, arguing on the subway, dressing in “loud” colors or Public Displays of Affection (now, if you removed the “L” from the first word, then we could talk).
Well, Judaism says, “Screw you, Aaron, screw you and your hang-ups and insecurities. Wear that kippah in public, nail that mezuzah to your door—say it loud, you’re a Jew and you’re proud!” (God knows we’re a loud people… literally, God KNOWS it:
“And God heard their groaning…” (Exodus 2:24)
“And the LORD said, I have … heard their cry” (Ex 3:7)
“I have heard the murmurings of the children of Israel” (Ex 16:12)
And now, a kinky one!
“And I have also heard the groaning of the children of Israel, whom the Egyptians keep in bondage... (Ex 6:5)
Ha!
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Monday, August 16
It happens
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" Judge not, that ye be not judged."
- Matthew 7:1
As I was jogging near Grant's Tomb this morning, through the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a thought crossed my mind. It is a thought that weighs upon every New Yorker throughout the summer.
Namely-- "What the hell is that SMELL?!"
As it turns out-- it was poop.
The odor was fierce-- New Yorkers are tough and in your face... and so is their waste matter.
Next to Grant's Tomb on 122nd and Riverside Drive-- I spied a porta-potty, and a few feet away there was a parked sanitation truck labeled "Johnny on the Spot." Coming out of the truck was a long, thick hose and a gentleman was holding it firmly as it sucked the horror that lies on the bottom of your friendly, neighborhood, portable toilet.
My heart went out to the hose gentleman.
After all, this was before 7 am on a Monday morning!
Imagine how much worse this guy's week can get!
To each his own.
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."
- Aristotle
In other words-- be nice and decent to everyone.
As Leviticus 19:18 teaches-
"Love thy neighbour as thyself," because you never know if your neighbor started his day by using a gigantic hose to suck up shit from a porta potty.
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" Judge not, that ye be not judged."
- Matthew 7:1
As I was jogging near Grant's Tomb this morning, through the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a thought crossed my mind. It is a thought that weighs upon every New Yorker throughout the summer.
Namely-- "What the hell is that SMELL?!"
As it turns out-- it was poop.
The odor was fierce-- New Yorkers are tough and in your face... and so is their waste matter.
Next to Grant's Tomb on 122nd and Riverside Drive-- I spied a porta-potty, and a few feet away there was a parked sanitation truck labeled "Johnny on the Spot." Coming out of the truck was a long, thick hose and a gentleman was holding it firmly as it sucked the horror that lies on the bottom of your friendly, neighborhood, portable toilet.
My heart went out to the hose gentleman.
After all, this was before 7 am on a Monday morning!
Imagine how much worse this guy's week can get!
To each his own.
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle."
- Aristotle
In other words-- be nice and decent to everyone.
As Leviticus 19:18 teaches-
"Love thy neighbour as thyself," because you never know if your neighbor started his day by using a gigantic hose to suck up shit from a porta potty.
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Tuesday, August 10
Impressing the Ladies!
Remember-
In the book of Genesis, Jacob tricks his bleary-eyed pop and steals his brother's blessing and his inheritance.
(in Jacob's defense...um... his brother was hairy?)
So Jacob did what any of us would do... he ran!
He comes to a new land and sees some shepherds chillin' around a giant stone, as shepherds are wont to do (those that don't chat with flaming shrubbery).
The shepherds roll the "great stone" away, and below it is a well; their sheep drink from the well, then they roll the stone back (Gen. 29:2-3)
Wow.
Being a shepherd: non-stop thrill ride.
But check it--
Then, my man Jacob sees Rachel coming over with her dad's sheep, and you know happens ...
"When Jacob saw Rachel... and the sheep... Jacob went near and rolled the stone from the well's mouth and watered the flock" (Gen. 29:15).
Damn!
My King James version calls it "a feat of unusual strength." This ain't no Festivus. This is Jacob whippin' it out and showin' Rachel what he's made of.
And you know what... that's the smartest thing Jacob has done.
"And this takes us to the second rule of Being Steve: You have to do something excellent in her presence, thus demonstrating your sexual worthiness."
-- Rule #2, "Tao of Steve", written by Duncan North
This makes TOTAL sense! Ya gotta do something to make 'em go "Wow." Ya gotta impress the ladies (as my pal Malcolm X would say) by any means necessary!
It doesn't matter what you do to impress them... as long as you're good at it!
Everybody can do something!
Jacob could roll a bolder and give water to sheep. My buddy Frank can karaoke-sing to MeatLoaf's "I Would Do Anything For Love" better than anybody. Claire Standish can apply her lipstick simply by placing it in her cleavage, looking down and moving her head back and forth (and became queen of the Breakfast Club).
(Don't you... forget about me)
And I...
I can juggle.
(sigh)
And write immature poetry.
Back in college, when I was courting my now-wife, I was taking a Poetry class. So I read her the following poem, to show her... how sensitive I was?
I guess it worked. And the rest, as they say, is hysterectomy.
Enjoy.
The Love Poem To End All Love Poems
Love thy neighbor, wherever you roam.
Just you make sure her husband’s not home.
Love inspires poets to create works of art.
They say it’s like a red, red rose,
... or an Achy Breaky Heart.
What is love? Is it Attraction? Allure?
Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, no more. (What is love?)
They say love is blind, so it’s no great leap
To condone love with all: man, woman or sheep.
Love can be tricky, with one who is chaste.
But it certainly helps if you’re both shit-faced.
Affection’s elusive with a girl who is moral.
She might give you love, but she won’t give you… the time of day.
“At the touch of love, we all become poets.”
Plato said that. Boy, don’t I know it.
(ahem)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art sweaty and thou dost attract mosquitoes.
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In the book of Genesis, Jacob tricks his bleary-eyed pop and steals his brother's blessing and his inheritance.
(in Jacob's defense...um... his brother was hairy?)
So Jacob did what any of us would do... he ran!
He comes to a new land and sees some shepherds chillin' around a giant stone, as shepherds are wont to do (those that don't chat with flaming shrubbery).
The shepherds roll the "great stone" away, and below it is a well; their sheep drink from the well, then they roll the stone back (Gen. 29:2-3)
Wow.
Being a shepherd: non-stop thrill ride.
But check it--
Then, my man Jacob sees Rachel coming over with her dad's sheep, and you know happens ...
"When Jacob saw Rachel... and the sheep... Jacob went near and rolled the stone from the well's mouth and watered the flock" (Gen. 29:15).
Damn!
My King James version calls it "a feat of unusual strength." This ain't no Festivus. This is Jacob whippin' it out and showin' Rachel what he's made of.
And you know what... that's the smartest thing Jacob has done.
"And this takes us to the second rule of Being Steve: You have to do something excellent in her presence, thus demonstrating your sexual worthiness."
-- Rule #2, "Tao of Steve", written by Duncan North
This makes TOTAL sense! Ya gotta do something to make 'em go "Wow." Ya gotta impress the ladies (as my pal Malcolm X would say) by any means necessary!
It doesn't matter what you do to impress them... as long as you're good at it!
Everybody can do something!
Jacob could roll a bolder and give water to sheep. My buddy Frank can karaoke-sing to MeatLoaf's "I Would Do Anything For Love" better than anybody. Claire Standish can apply her lipstick simply by placing it in her cleavage, looking down and moving her head back and forth (and became queen of the Breakfast Club).
(Don't you... forget about me)
And I...
I can juggle.
(sigh)
And write immature poetry.
Back in college, when I was courting my now-wife, I was taking a Poetry class. So I read her the following poem, to show her... how sensitive I was?
I guess it worked. And the rest, as they say, is hysterectomy.
Enjoy.
The Love Poem To End All Love Poems
Love thy neighbor, wherever you roam.
Just you make sure her husband’s not home.
Love inspires poets to create works of art.
They say it’s like a red, red rose,
... or an Achy Breaky Heart.
What is love? Is it Attraction? Allure?
Baby, don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me, no more. (What is love?)
They say love is blind, so it’s no great leap
To condone love with all: man, woman or sheep.
Love can be tricky, with one who is chaste.
But it certainly helps if you’re both shit-faced.
Affection’s elusive with a girl who is moral.
She might give you love, but she won’t give you… the time of day.
“At the touch of love, we all become poets.”
Plato said that. Boy, don’t I know it.
(ahem)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art sweaty and thou dost attract mosquitoes.
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Men's Priorities
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Remember-
Throughout the book of Deuteronomy, God explains (through Moses) the rules and laws the Israelites are supposed to follow.
Chapter 20 deals with military service.
Who is temporarily exempt from military duty? (besides Klinger-- section 8!)
Check out verse 5:
"What man is there that hath built a new house, and hath not dedicated it? Let him go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle and another man dedicate it."
Verse 6, The same formula-- but for wine:
"What manjavascript:void(0)... planted a vineyard, and hath not yet eaten of it? ... let him also go... lest he die in the battle, and another man eat of it."
And, naturally, verse 7:
"What man is... betrothed to a wife and hath not taken her?... Let him go... lest he die in the battle, and another man take her."
BAM!
Here we see the three priorities in a man's life: Shelter, Booze, and Dames!
It's a natural progression: a place to sleep, something to eat/drink, and someone to share it with-- to eat, drink and be "merry"... unless she has a headache.
That sure would stink-- you go to all the trouble of building a house, or planting crops, or wooing a lady... and you die before you can enjoy any of it! Some OTHER guy is in YOUR bed, drinking YOUR wine, and being "merry" all over YOUR woman!
Now THAT'S getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop!
Unfair!
And God knew this.
Hence-- this very sensible rule.
How refreshing.
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Remember-
Throughout the book of Deuteronomy, God explains (through Moses) the rules and laws the Israelites are supposed to follow.
Chapter 20 deals with military service.
Who is temporarily exempt from military duty? (besides Klinger-- section 8!)
Check out verse 5:
"What man is there that hath built a new house, and hath not dedicated it? Let him go and return to his house, lest he die in the battle and another man dedicate it."
Verse 6, The same formula-- but for wine:
"What manjavascript:void(0)... planted a vineyard, and hath not yet eaten of it? ... let him also go... lest he die in the battle, and another man eat of it."
And, naturally, verse 7:
"What man is... betrothed to a wife and hath not taken her?... Let him go... lest he die in the battle, and another man take her."
BAM!
Here we see the three priorities in a man's life: Shelter, Booze, and Dames!
It's a natural progression: a place to sleep, something to eat/drink, and someone to share it with-- to eat, drink and be "merry"... unless she has a headache.
That sure would stink-- you go to all the trouble of building a house, or planting crops, or wooing a lady... and you die before you can enjoy any of it! Some OTHER guy is in YOUR bed, drinking YOUR wine, and being "merry" all over YOUR woman!
Now THAT'S getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop!
Unfair!
And God knew this.
Hence-- this very sensible rule.
How refreshing.
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Monday, July 19
Swallow your ... (ahem) pride
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“Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.”
- Proverbs 16:19
I am a sports counselor at a Jewish summer camp.
And no, “sports” and “jewish summer camp” are not oxymorons.
We play plenty of sports…
Well… a lot of chess.
Sports with all Jews?
What is it, a camp full of team managers? Just hundreds of kids carrying water jugs and clipboards?
Actually, we’re not training them to be sports stars, but rather, sports agents.
“Let’s do ten jumping jacks and five contract negotiations.”
Forget color wars, we have bidding wars.
Ha ha… that is just awful.
Okay, we got that out of our systems.
Truthfully, we play every sports you can think of.
I was teaching softball today and it was rough.
But I was forced to swallow my pride.
As soon as the kids’ regular counselor signaled the end of the perek (or “period”) I said, “Oh praise Jesus!”
“Jesus? Here? It’s a Jewish summer camp.”
Trying to be funny, I dug deeper. “No, not THAT Jesus. I’m talking about Jesus, the guy who cleans my floors.”
There were a few kids around us, but I was saying it for the amusement of myself and the counselor.
A minute later, when it was just the two of us, he said,
“Dude, ‘Lo mateem.’” In Jewish camp-speak that means “Not appropriate.”
He elaborated. “There were kids around and what you said was kinda racist. Besides, they don’t know you’re joking.”
Now, I didn’t really like this counselor. He was a jock… and not just in terms of a Jewish summer camp (A jewish jock? What, can he field a groundball without dropping his inhaler?).
So I resented this guy. I REALLY didn’t want to admit he was right.
But… we was right.
“Okay, you got a point” I conceded, nodding my head. “You got a point.”
He WAS right… and my Jesus comment was more racist than funny, anyway.
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“Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.”
- Proverbs 16:19
I am a sports counselor at a Jewish summer camp.
And no, “sports” and “jewish summer camp” are not oxymorons.
We play plenty of sports…
Well… a lot of chess.
Sports with all Jews?
What is it, a camp full of team managers? Just hundreds of kids carrying water jugs and clipboards?
Actually, we’re not training them to be sports stars, but rather, sports agents.
“Let’s do ten jumping jacks and five contract negotiations.”
Forget color wars, we have bidding wars.
Ha ha… that is just awful.
Okay, we got that out of our systems.
Truthfully, we play every sports you can think of.
I was teaching softball today and it was rough.
But I was forced to swallow my pride.
As soon as the kids’ regular counselor signaled the end of the perek (or “period”) I said, “Oh praise Jesus!”
“Jesus? Here? It’s a Jewish summer camp.”
Trying to be funny, I dug deeper. “No, not THAT Jesus. I’m talking about Jesus, the guy who cleans my floors.”
There were a few kids around us, but I was saying it for the amusement of myself and the counselor.
A minute later, when it was just the two of us, he said,
“Dude, ‘Lo mateem.’” In Jewish camp-speak that means “Not appropriate.”
He elaborated. “There were kids around and what you said was kinda racist. Besides, they don’t know you’re joking.”
Now, I didn’t really like this counselor. He was a jock… and not just in terms of a Jewish summer camp (A jewish jock? What, can he field a groundball without dropping his inhaler?).
So I resented this guy. I REALLY didn’t want to admit he was right.
But… we was right.
“Okay, you got a point” I conceded, nodding my head. “You got a point.”
He WAS right… and my Jesus comment was more racist than funny, anyway.
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Wednesday, June 30
"To weep is to make less the depth of grief." - William Shakespeare
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“The LORD, The LORD God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin,
-- Exodus 34:6-7
The above passage is recited on most Jewish fast days.
It’s also known as the 13 attributes of God, repeated on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year.
It’s also what I recited for an hour the night before climbing Massada 10 years ago, as I stood alone in the darkness of the desert, repeating these words as a mantra, meditating/praying/just immersed in a religious kind of zone.
It’s also the first prayer that leapt to mind 6 days ago when I experienced turbulence at 30,000 feet (who needs a gremlin on the wing, just a little shaking is scary enough).
Flying from New York to California was a bit… terrifying!
… for 30 seconds.
And those are the words that came to me, possibly because the first two words (in Hebrew) are “GOD! GOD!”
Okay, it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote.
In the words of Steve Martin: well, excuuuuuuuuse me!
Good, now moving on…
A lot has changed since my last entry. I am no longer living in Jerusalem, but rather, New York… so the Jew quotient is about the same.
I am working at a Jewish summer camp with the missus.
A few days ago I got to see my parents and brothers together for the first time since last summer.
I visited California for a wedding.
I saw Toy Story 3.
… Also, my grandma died.
What’s that you say?
Oh, yes, the movie was amazing…
Sigh.
Okay, let’s get into it.
Why am I compelled to write at this juncture?
Is there something wrong with me… simply because I shed more tears over the potential demise of the animated Buzz and Woody (and all the other toys!)… than I did over the actual demise over my own flesh and blood?
Perhaps.
But the older I get, the more cynical I get, and the only times I tend to allow true fear and sadness to take me over is in a darkened room, surrounded by strangers (plus my wife) when I can escape reality through some fictional folks on the big screen.
“Lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it, blah blah whatever…”
-- Eminem, “One shot”
"Let your tears come. Let them water your soul." - Eileen Mayhew
“Field of Dreams,” “Finding Nemo,” even parts of "The Blind Side" (embarrassing, though true)… they’ve made me cry.
Yes, I have cried.
So what?
I’m still a man.
I could shoot a gun, or kill an elk or throw a football…
… or go to a heavily-wooded area, find an elk, then throw a football that has a gun duct-taped to it, which I have somehow rigged to shoot at just the right moment while the football is in mid-air, thereby killing said elk.
But I don’t have any duct tape… so scratch that idea.
But those forms of entertainment make me cry, whereas deaths, familial strife and turmoil, operations and surgeries… no tears.
Toy Story 3 is all about trying to cling to the past while moving on, growing up, and losing the things and people that we love…
And that’s something EVERYONE has to deal… sometimes in one weeknd.
This past weekend was a complicated time for my family.
We flew out to California on Thursday for a wedding on Saturday,
On Sunday they took my grandma off the breathing machine.
On Monday she died.
She was 83.
We called her Bubby (rhymes with “hubby”, not “could be”).
I was thinking about her yesterday, Tuesday. It was a minor fast day for observant Jews (the 17th day of the Hebrew month of Tammuz, commemorating the Romans breaching the walls of Jerusalem before the destruction of the 2nd Temple in 70 CE… so no eating, of course!... sometimes it feels like Jews LOOK for reasons not to eat—“Oh, this is the day when Moses found a hair in his soup… we should skip lunch”).
But if there was one thing my Bubby loved to do it was feed her family. Tons of food… obscene amounts of food… “For me, please. Eat, eat, please.” And she wasn’t some babushka-wearing immigrant… maybe it’s a grandmother thing, or for people who lived through the great Depression… but in her eyes, you could never eat enough. If you visited, you were leaving with a loosened belt and an ulcer.
Most of it was not kosher, since my Bubby was a devout atheist, and it really upset her when my brothers and I reached high school age and began following stricter Jewish dietary laws—it meant we would no longer eat her food. No bacon-wrapped shrimp for us!
(Not kidding… cooked shrimp wrapped in fried bacon… kinda like kryptonite to us Jews… but it was a specialty of hers… and I hear it was a-MAZING… to each their own).
She gave out so much candy to trick-or-treaters each Halloween… I’m sure childhood diabetes has increased because of her turgid Ziploc bags literally bursting with full-size Snickers and Milky Ways… it was awesome.
“… come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price… eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.”
-Isaiah 55:1-2
So… juxtaposition.
A family reunion, a wedding, a hospital, a death, a fast… then Toy Story 3.
Why not?
Sadness is just as much a part of living as joy…
You can’t have one without the other.
Joy is a feeling, and so is sadness, which makes way for eventual acceptance and happiness once again.
Peaks and valleys.
Rain can cause flooding and destruction… but it also helps everything grow again.
The following is read on all Jewish Fast Days (besides Yom Kippur):
“For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater…For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace:
- Isaiah 55:10, 12
“Oh come on, that's funny….You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry, but in between I laugh.”
-- “Garden State,” 2004, screenplay by Zach Braff
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“The LORD, The LORD God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin,
-- Exodus 34:6-7
The above passage is recited on most Jewish fast days.
It’s also known as the 13 attributes of God, repeated on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the Jewish year.
It’s also what I recited for an hour the night before climbing Massada 10 years ago, as I stood alone in the darkness of the desert, repeating these words as a mantra, meditating/praying/just immersed in a religious kind of zone.
It’s also the first prayer that leapt to mind 6 days ago when I experienced turbulence at 30,000 feet (who needs a gremlin on the wing, just a little shaking is scary enough).
Flying from New York to California was a bit… terrifying!
… for 30 seconds.
And those are the words that came to me, possibly because the first two words (in Hebrew) are “GOD! GOD!”
Okay, it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote.
In the words of Steve Martin: well, excuuuuuuuuse me!
Good, now moving on…
A lot has changed since my last entry. I am no longer living in Jerusalem, but rather, New York… so the Jew quotient is about the same.
I am working at a Jewish summer camp with the missus.
A few days ago I got to see my parents and brothers together for the first time since last summer.
I visited California for a wedding.
I saw Toy Story 3.
… Also, my grandma died.
What’s that you say?
Oh, yes, the movie was amazing…
Sigh.
Okay, let’s get into it.
Why am I compelled to write at this juncture?
Is there something wrong with me… simply because I shed more tears over the potential demise of the animated Buzz and Woody (and all the other toys!)… than I did over the actual demise over my own flesh and blood?
Perhaps.
But the older I get, the more cynical I get, and the only times I tend to allow true fear and sadness to take me over is in a darkened room, surrounded by strangers (plus my wife) when I can escape reality through some fictional folks on the big screen.
“Lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it, blah blah whatever…”
-- Eminem, “One shot”
"Let your tears come. Let them water your soul." - Eileen Mayhew
“Field of Dreams,” “Finding Nemo,” even parts of "The Blind Side" (embarrassing, though true)… they’ve made me cry.
Yes, I have cried.
So what?
I’m still a man.
I could shoot a gun, or kill an elk or throw a football…
… or go to a heavily-wooded area, find an elk, then throw a football that has a gun duct-taped to it, which I have somehow rigged to shoot at just the right moment while the football is in mid-air, thereby killing said elk.
But I don’t have any duct tape… so scratch that idea.
But those forms of entertainment make me cry, whereas deaths, familial strife and turmoil, operations and surgeries… no tears.
Toy Story 3 is all about trying to cling to the past while moving on, growing up, and losing the things and people that we love…
And that’s something EVERYONE has to deal… sometimes in one weeknd.
This past weekend was a complicated time for my family.
We flew out to California on Thursday for a wedding on Saturday,
On Sunday they took my grandma off the breathing machine.
On Monday she died.
She was 83.
We called her Bubby (rhymes with “hubby”, not “could be”).
I was thinking about her yesterday, Tuesday. It was a minor fast day for observant Jews (the 17th day of the Hebrew month of Tammuz, commemorating the Romans breaching the walls of Jerusalem before the destruction of the 2nd Temple in 70 CE… so no eating, of course!... sometimes it feels like Jews LOOK for reasons not to eat—“Oh, this is the day when Moses found a hair in his soup… we should skip lunch”).
But if there was one thing my Bubby loved to do it was feed her family. Tons of food… obscene amounts of food… “For me, please. Eat, eat, please.” And she wasn’t some babushka-wearing immigrant… maybe it’s a grandmother thing, or for people who lived through the great Depression… but in her eyes, you could never eat enough. If you visited, you were leaving with a loosened belt and an ulcer.
Most of it was not kosher, since my Bubby was a devout atheist, and it really upset her when my brothers and I reached high school age and began following stricter Jewish dietary laws—it meant we would no longer eat her food. No bacon-wrapped shrimp for us!
(Not kidding… cooked shrimp wrapped in fried bacon… kinda like kryptonite to us Jews… but it was a specialty of hers… and I hear it was a-MAZING… to each their own).
She gave out so much candy to trick-or-treaters each Halloween… I’m sure childhood diabetes has increased because of her turgid Ziploc bags literally bursting with full-size Snickers and Milky Ways… it was awesome.
“… come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price… eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in fatness.”
-Isaiah 55:1-2
So… juxtaposition.
A family reunion, a wedding, a hospital, a death, a fast… then Toy Story 3.
Why not?
Sadness is just as much a part of living as joy…
You can’t have one without the other.
Joy is a feeling, and so is sadness, which makes way for eventual acceptance and happiness once again.
Peaks and valleys.
Rain can cause flooding and destruction… but it also helps everything grow again.
The following is read on all Jewish Fast Days (besides Yom Kippur):
“For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater…For ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace:
- Isaiah 55:10, 12
“Oh come on, that's funny….You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry, but in between I laugh.”
-- “Garden State,” 2004, screenplay by Zach Braff
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Wednesday, June 9
Home
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“Behold, God will not cast away a perfect man… till he fill thy mouth with laughing, and thy lips with rejoicing.”
- Job 8:20-21
Well, this will be my final entry from the Promised Land.
The wife and I pack up and head home to New York tomorrow.
Yes, Israel is still our homeland… but New York is our home.
Well, actually no… As my wife has said many times this week—
“You’re home, where you are—that’s my home.”
Awwwwww.
This reminds me of two of my favorite movies and their best lines:
“I’m 50 years old… there’s only one place I call home and it’s because you’re there.”
-- Armand to Albert in “The Birdcage”
“Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before… I just, I remember things better with you… because when I look at you, I can feel it. And- and I look at you, and I... I'm home.”
-- Dory to Marlin in “Finding Nemo”
But back to Israel…
(sigh)
So many memories.
I made two more today.
And YES, they both involved me trying to speak Hebrew and then being emasculated in front of Israeli shop owners!
Naturally.
I picked up my wife’s tallit from the dry cleaners today.
I must’ve been holding close, clutching it and … petting it. Because the two old ladies standing behind the counter both asked, “Why are [verb]-ing the tallit in that way?”
I think she said “touching”… but it could’ve been “skeet-shooting,” for all I know.
I paused and I all I could say was “It’s not mine!”
Reverting back to primal… pre-adolescent instincts.
Then I added—“it’s my wife’s tallit.”
They both nodded their heads.
“Ohhhhhh.”
Right on! My wife wears a tallit!
Deal with it.
Actually, they did… that cleared it all up.
Then I went into the Old City of Jerusalem, to buy jewelery and t-shirts (naturally, just like my ancestors 2,000 years ago—Coca-Cola brand in Hebrew).
I started talking with a young man selling me a necklace. We chatted about the difference between Israelis and Americans.
I said Americans were fat.
He replied, “But you’re not fat—you exercise?”
“I do, I run. I ran the Tel Aviv marathon last month.”
“Oh, why!” (not a question—instead of “wow”, Israelis say “Why”… it’s still weird to hear… like a Spanish rooster says “koo-koo-ree-koo” instead of “cock-a-doodle-doo,” and instead of “meow” a Russian cat will say, “meow- where’s- my- vodka?”)
The shop owner was impressed.
“Good job! Very hard.”
“So I ran a marathon” I continued, “but the guy who finished right in front of me was 69 years old.”
That’s true!
“It was only one marathon…” I am not sure what I meant by this… my Hebrew is limited… but I know the words “only” and “one.”
My wife overheard our conversation and interjected—
“He is humble,” she talked about me like I wasn’t two feet away from her.
“He ran a marathon. He did big thing, but he does not think it big thing.”
I saw an opportunity!
“Yes, everything with me is big thing! Of course in my pants!”
The store owner laughed…
Trust me, it sounded funnier in Hebrew.
Connections!
Between me, my wife… and the patient store owners throughout Israel, who’ve listened to me butcher their language in many attempts to make sexual innuendos... and I finally did one!
Yes!
Oh, I was also able to give a truck driver directions in Hebrew yesterday!
Sure, he wanted directions to MY street, and he was one block away when he asked… but I still gave it to him!
Connections!
I’ll miss this place.
It's been my home for the last 9 months
But home is where the heart is.
And my heart belongs to my wife.
I hope that you figure out where your heart is.
So Shalom ... for now.
I'm going home.
.
“Behold, God will not cast away a perfect man… till he fill thy mouth with laughing, and thy lips with rejoicing.”
- Job 8:20-21
Well, this will be my final entry from the Promised Land.
The wife and I pack up and head home to New York tomorrow.
Yes, Israel is still our homeland… but New York is our home.
Well, actually no… As my wife has said many times this week—
“You’re home, where you are—that’s my home.”
Awwwwww.
This reminds me of two of my favorite movies and their best lines:
“I’m 50 years old… there’s only one place I call home and it’s because you’re there.”
-- Armand to Albert in “The Birdcage”
“Please don't go away. Please? No one's ever stuck with me for so long before… I just, I remember things better with you… because when I look at you, I can feel it. And- and I look at you, and I... I'm home.”
-- Dory to Marlin in “Finding Nemo”
But back to Israel…
(sigh)
So many memories.
I made two more today.
And YES, they both involved me trying to speak Hebrew and then being emasculated in front of Israeli shop owners!
Naturally.
I picked up my wife’s tallit from the dry cleaners today.
I must’ve been holding close, clutching it and … petting it. Because the two old ladies standing behind the counter both asked, “Why are [verb]-ing the tallit in that way?”
I think she said “touching”… but it could’ve been “skeet-shooting,” for all I know.
I paused and I all I could say was “It’s not mine!”
Reverting back to primal… pre-adolescent instincts.
Then I added—“it’s my wife’s tallit.”
They both nodded their heads.
“Ohhhhhh.”
Right on! My wife wears a tallit!
Deal with it.
Actually, they did… that cleared it all up.
Then I went into the Old City of Jerusalem, to buy jewelery and t-shirts (naturally, just like my ancestors 2,000 years ago—Coca-Cola brand in Hebrew).
I started talking with a young man selling me a necklace. We chatted about the difference between Israelis and Americans.
I said Americans were fat.
He replied, “But you’re not fat—you exercise?”
“I do, I run. I ran the Tel Aviv marathon last month.”
“Oh, why!” (not a question—instead of “wow”, Israelis say “Why”… it’s still weird to hear… like a Spanish rooster says “koo-koo-ree-koo” instead of “cock-a-doodle-doo,” and instead of “meow” a Russian cat will say, “meow- where’s- my- vodka?”)
The shop owner was impressed.
“Good job! Very hard.”
“So I ran a marathon” I continued, “but the guy who finished right in front of me was 69 years old.”
That’s true!
“It was only one marathon…” I am not sure what I meant by this… my Hebrew is limited… but I know the words “only” and “one.”
My wife overheard our conversation and interjected—
“He is humble,” she talked about me like I wasn’t two feet away from her.
“He ran a marathon. He did big thing, but he does not think it big thing.”
I saw an opportunity!
“Yes, everything with me is big thing! Of course in my pants!”
The store owner laughed…
Trust me, it sounded funnier in Hebrew.
Connections!
Between me, my wife… and the patient store owners throughout Israel, who’ve listened to me butcher their language in many attempts to make sexual innuendos... and I finally did one!
Yes!
Oh, I was also able to give a truck driver directions in Hebrew yesterday!
Sure, he wanted directions to MY street, and he was one block away when he asked… but I still gave it to him!
Connections!
I’ll miss this place.
It's been my home for the last 9 months
But home is where the heart is.
And my heart belongs to my wife.
I hope that you figure out where your heart is.
So Shalom ... for now.
I'm going home.
.
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