Posts
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“Thou shalt rise up… and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: I am the LORD.”
-- Leviticus 19:32
Part of this verse hangs on signs in Israeli public buses.
I rarely approve of the mixing of Church (or Synagogue) and State… but that’s a really nice rule.
Walking through Jerusalem, you can’t go more than 10 minutes without seeing repeated images: cats in the dumpsters; Orthodox Jews dressed in black, walking briskly… somewhere; honking, hairy cab drivers, and elderly people being pushed in wheelchairs by Filipino nurses.
In the last 20 years there has been a huge influx of Filipinos into Israel. They are the prime employees in the assisted living job market. Filipino men and women helping elderly Jews… why not?
The only other Asians I have seen in this country have worked in sushi restaurants (honestly). The more, the mellier!
Now, back to geezers:
In January of 1990, when I was 7 ½ years old, my family got a dog. A beagle. We named her Peanut. She was adorable, quiet, and we all took turns walking her and carrying her crap in little sandwich bags. It was a full life (and a full sandwich bag).
She lived a long, fat, happy life.
But the last couple of years were rough on my parents. Peanut had trouble walking, she couldn’t get to the front door in time to… fill a sandwich bag. So my parents bought “doggie diapers,” which are exactly what they sound like… just like human diapers except with a hole for the dog’s tail. Sad, quite sad.
When has a pet lived long enough? Who can say?
Most veterinarians agree that an animal is certainly “ready to die” when it stops eating—that’s a sign that its body is literally shutting down.
Well, Peanut didn’t stop eating! Hence, the doggie diapers. Watching her waddle into the kitchen for dinner every night was a sad, pathetic, and hilarious sight.
We often called her our R.O.U.S., an allusion to the Rodents of Unusual Size from “The Princess Bride,” because of the way she waddled and wheezed on her way to her dinner bowl.
But then, she finally did stop eating.
Peanut shuffled off her puppy coil in 2007, just short of her 18th birthday.
Damn!
After she died, my dad was filled with remorse.
“Maybe we should’ve, y’know… put her down. Ended her misery sooner.”
I related to him the following passage I found in Joseph Telushkin’s book, “Jewish Wisdom”:
“Show respect to an old man who has forgotten his learning through no fault of his own, for we have learned that the fragments of the old tablets [of the Ten Commandments which Moses shattered] were kept alongside the new tablets in the Ark of the Covenant.”
-- Babylonian Talmud, Berakhot 8b
Even when tablets are broken, we still carry them around.
Scotty: A century out of date. It's just... obsolete! ...
Geordi: Just because something's old doesn't mean you throw it away.
-- (Star Trek: TNG, Season 6, ep.4, written by Ronald D. Moore)
This historic exchange between the engineers from the original Star Trek series and the updated series (respectively) was quite poignant, indeed.
Especially considering the history of Scotty, portrayed by the amicable James Doohan.
Doohan suffered from Parkinson's disease, diabetes and pulmonary fibrosis in later life. In 2004, he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. He died in 2005 (BBC News).
I saw the 1997 documentary Trekkies, and Doohan relayed the following, beautiful story:
“I got a fan letter from a young lady. It was a suicide note. So I called her and told her I’m doing a convention in Indianapolis, I wanna see you there. I saw her… she was definitely suicidal… I said, ‘I;m doing a convention two weeks in St. Louis, then in another two weeks… she came to new york… that went on for two or three years, maybe 18 times. And all I did was talk positive things to her. And then, all of a sudden—nothing. I didn’t hear anything. I had no idea what was happening to her.
Eight years later I get a letter from her: ‘I want to thank you so much for what you did for me, because I just got my master’s degree in Electronic Engineering’… and that’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. And it brings tears to my eyes…”
Old or young, we can all do something kind for someone else.
Damn.
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Monday, April 12
Sunday, April 11
"Hello, Clarice"
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“Thou shalt not see thy brother’s ass or his ox fall down by the way, and hide thyself from them: thou shalt surely help him to lift them up again.”
-- Deuteronomy 22:4
At the end of Passover, the people of Jerusalem scurry to their local pizza shops and gorge on bread—wonderful bread! Like flies to feces!
Well, a week ago I WAS one of those flies.
My wife and I ventured nearly 3 blocks from our apartment to the nearest pizza eatery, enjoying the finest Italian cuisine Jews could offer.
Just as we finished our repast, an old woman (at least 75) approached our table.
“Excuse me, blah blah blah,” she started saying something in Hebrew.
Now, I have lived in New York City for the past 8 years, so when a stranger approaches me my natural reaction is to back away with one hand on my wallet, saying, “Sorry, buddy, I got no change.”
Well, that’s what I did when this old lady started talkin’ all Jew-talk on me. But my wife translated.
“Aaron, she says her car is parked around the corner and she needs help taking a wheelchair out of the back seat.”
Oh!
Why didn’t ya say so!
Well, that’s a Jew of a different color!
(Literally translated, the lady asked us, “Sorry, my husband had troubles, back aches, would you able to pick up chair of rolling from my automobile’s backside? Kind requesting.”)
My wife volunteered to accompany me, as we walked the half a block, to the lady’s car.
Her husband was in the front seat, a big, bulky wheelchair was in the back.
We took it out, she thanked us, wished us a pleasant week and my wife and I walked away.
“Y’know why I came with you?” my wife asked me.
“Because you speak Hebrew better than me?”
“No.”
“You wanted to help me lift the wheelchair and get credit for the good deed?”
“No.”
I shrugged.
My wife explained, simply by adopting the creepy Buffalo Bill voice from “Silence of the Lambs”: “Would you help me put this sofa in the back of my van?”
I was shocked.
“You thought that old, feeble, Israeli lady was a serial killer?”
My wife shrugged and simply said, “ ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin—”
To which I responded, “‘…or else it gets the hose again!’”
And we kissed.
What we were really saying is, “I love you.”
To each his own.
Hannibal Lecter: Now then, tell me. What did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the next cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?
Clarice Starling: He said, "I can smell your [scent]."
Hannibal Lecter: I see. I myself cannot. You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps, but not today.
-- TBS version of “Silence of the Lambs,” screenplay by Ted Tally, novel by Thomas Harris
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“Thou shalt not see thy brother’s ass or his ox fall down by the way, and hide thyself from them: thou shalt surely help him to lift them up again.”
-- Deuteronomy 22:4
At the end of Passover, the people of Jerusalem scurry to their local pizza shops and gorge on bread—wonderful bread! Like flies to feces!
Well, a week ago I WAS one of those flies.
My wife and I ventured nearly 3 blocks from our apartment to the nearest pizza eatery, enjoying the finest Italian cuisine Jews could offer.
Just as we finished our repast, an old woman (at least 75) approached our table.
“Excuse me, blah blah blah,” she started saying something in Hebrew.
Now, I have lived in New York City for the past 8 years, so when a stranger approaches me my natural reaction is to back away with one hand on my wallet, saying, “Sorry, buddy, I got no change.”
Well, that’s what I did when this old lady started talkin’ all Jew-talk on me. But my wife translated.
“Aaron, she says her car is parked around the corner and she needs help taking a wheelchair out of the back seat.”
Oh!
Why didn’t ya say so!
Well, that’s a Jew of a different color!
(Literally translated, the lady asked us, “Sorry, my husband had troubles, back aches, would you able to pick up chair of rolling from my automobile’s backside? Kind requesting.”)
My wife volunteered to accompany me, as we walked the half a block, to the lady’s car.
Her husband was in the front seat, a big, bulky wheelchair was in the back.
We took it out, she thanked us, wished us a pleasant week and my wife and I walked away.
“Y’know why I came with you?” my wife asked me.
“Because you speak Hebrew better than me?”
“No.”
“You wanted to help me lift the wheelchair and get credit for the good deed?”
“No.”
I shrugged.
My wife explained, simply by adopting the creepy Buffalo Bill voice from “Silence of the Lambs”: “Would you help me put this sofa in the back of my van?”
I was shocked.
“You thought that old, feeble, Israeli lady was a serial killer?”
My wife shrugged and simply said, “ ‘It rubs the lotion on its skin—”
To which I responded, “‘…or else it gets the hose again!’”
And we kissed.
What we were really saying is, “I love you.”
To each his own.
Hannibal Lecter: Now then, tell me. What did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the next cell. He hissed at you. What did he say?
Clarice Starling: He said, "I can smell your [scent]."
Hannibal Lecter: I see. I myself cannot. You use Evian skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps, but not today.
-- TBS version of “Silence of the Lambs,” screenplay by Ted Tally, novel by Thomas Harris
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Friday, April 9
“Food, Glorious Food!”—Oliver!
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My wonderful wife made an interesting argument today.
Still recovering from Passover, I shared my thoughts from my blog (“It could always be worse”)—
how abstaining from bread consumption reminds us, “At least we’re not slaves like we used to be!”
My wife corrected me… as she tends to do because she tends to be correct most of the time… (she also tends to read this blog).
“But if that’s the case, we’re simply reliving our slavery for the duration of the holiday. Passover and eating matzah becomes the slavery and not the celebration of our freedom.”
Good point.
They say religion should be a blessing, not a burden.
… Shyeah right.
And your ex meant it when s/he said, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
B.S.
But my wife put it in terms I could understand: Food.
“We are still slaves. Everyone is a slave to something.
And most of us are slaves to food/beverage some of the time.”
My wife is a proud member of Weight Watchers, and a success story (she’s married to me, after all). She lost nearly 30% of her body weight in high school and is smokin’ hot! She is the second hottest Yeshiva student I know (first, naturally, is Yentl).
So she knows a thing or two about food and its tight grip around our gastronomical short and curlies (great name for a Jewish restaurant, btw).
“Y’see,” my wife explains, “people often turn to food to satisfy an emotional need. Many of us eat this or that because it ‘makes us feel better.’ But that is dangerous.”
True—those of us who aren’t addicted to drugs, pills, booze… we’re still addicted to SOMETHING!
Chocolate, coffee, etc.
My name is Aaron… and I am addicted to Twizzlers. They’re awesome!
I’ve also eaten a whole Entenmann’s cake in one evening, by myself (no worries, my tears landed safely on my gut). (really, did I need to add “by myself?” Once you start a sentence with “I ate a whole cake…)
(and meth).
And to quote Star Trek’s Deanna Troi, explaining the concept of “dessert” to an alien:
“It's something we eat after the main course. It's usually very sweet, it's usually very bad for you... We eat it purely for pleasure. If you ask me, it's the best part of any meal.”
- (TNG, season 7, ep.2 -“Liaisons,” teleplay by Jeanne Carrigan Fauci & Lisa Rich)
Amen, nerds, Amen.
The mere CONCEPT of dessert—ridiculous!
After a full, satisfying meal, that’s what we need—cake!
“What Passover does,” my wife says, “Passover reminds us that we don’t have to be slaves to food!”
Zing!
Good point—I mean what are we ACTUALLY slaves to in this day and age?
Food has power over us (where’s that dessert cart? “I have no willpower”), food can make us do things we don’t want to do (like go through the dumpster), and can make us feel crappy (like any fast food).
Food is like the ultimate manipulative girlfriend: you spend a night ravaging that pie… next morning you look in the mirror—“What … did you… do?!”
The evidence is strewn about the kitchen.
“I sicken myself.”
Wife:
“So Passover reminds us that we can control what goes into our bodies. (behave)
We don’t NEED to eat bread. We’re not slaves to our stomachs.”
It’s a good point, yet another reason why I like the idea of keeping Kosher or being a vegetarian.
We are not animals.
We do more than eat, sleep and hump (although that sounds like the perfect evening).
We have the ability to think and consider what we consume and why.
Free your mind… and your stomach will follow.
.
My wonderful wife made an interesting argument today.
Still recovering from Passover, I shared my thoughts from my blog (“It could always be worse”)—
how abstaining from bread consumption reminds us, “At least we’re not slaves like we used to be!”
My wife corrected me… as she tends to do because she tends to be correct most of the time… (she also tends to read this blog).
“But if that’s the case, we’re simply reliving our slavery for the duration of the holiday. Passover and eating matzah becomes the slavery and not the celebration of our freedom.”
Good point.
They say religion should be a blessing, not a burden.
… Shyeah right.
And your ex meant it when s/he said, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
B.S.
But my wife put it in terms I could understand: Food.
“We are still slaves. Everyone is a slave to something.
And most of us are slaves to food/beverage some of the time.”
My wife is a proud member of Weight Watchers, and a success story (she’s married to me, after all). She lost nearly 30% of her body weight in high school and is smokin’ hot! She is the second hottest Yeshiva student I know (first, naturally, is Yentl).
So she knows a thing or two about food and its tight grip around our gastronomical short and curlies (great name for a Jewish restaurant, btw).
“Y’see,” my wife explains, “people often turn to food to satisfy an emotional need. Many of us eat this or that because it ‘makes us feel better.’ But that is dangerous.”
True—those of us who aren’t addicted to drugs, pills, booze… we’re still addicted to SOMETHING!
Chocolate, coffee, etc.
My name is Aaron… and I am addicted to Twizzlers. They’re awesome!
I’ve also eaten a whole Entenmann’s cake in one evening, by myself (no worries, my tears landed safely on my gut). (really, did I need to add “by myself?” Once you start a sentence with “I ate a whole cake…)
(and meth).
And to quote Star Trek’s Deanna Troi, explaining the concept of “dessert” to an alien:
“It's something we eat after the main course. It's usually very sweet, it's usually very bad for you... We eat it purely for pleasure. If you ask me, it's the best part of any meal.”
- (TNG, season 7, ep.2 -“Liaisons,” teleplay by Jeanne Carrigan Fauci & Lisa Rich)
Amen, nerds, Amen.
The mere CONCEPT of dessert—ridiculous!
After a full, satisfying meal, that’s what we need—cake!
“What Passover does,” my wife says, “Passover reminds us that we don’t have to be slaves to food!”
Zing!
Good point—I mean what are we ACTUALLY slaves to in this day and age?
Food has power over us (where’s that dessert cart? “I have no willpower”), food can make us do things we don’t want to do (like go through the dumpster), and can make us feel crappy (like any fast food).
Food is like the ultimate manipulative girlfriend: you spend a night ravaging that pie… next morning you look in the mirror—“What … did you… do?!”
The evidence is strewn about the kitchen.
“I sicken myself.”
Wife:
“So Passover reminds us that we can control what goes into our bodies. (behave)
We don’t NEED to eat bread. We’re not slaves to our stomachs.”
It’s a good point, yet another reason why I like the idea of keeping Kosher or being a vegetarian.
We are not animals.
We do more than eat, sleep and hump (although that sounds like the perfect evening).
We have the ability to think and consider what we consume and why.
Free your mind… and your stomach will follow.
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Thursday, April 8
It could always be worse
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We're gonna start with bodily functions, end up at mortality. Hang on.
“Then thou shalt say unto thy son, We were Pharaoh’s bondmen in Egypt; and the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.”
-- Deuteronomy 6:21
“My poop is brown. I know, most people’s poop is brown. But I mean… mine is REALLY brown.”
-- ?
First of all, I can’t tell WHO said this last quote, because this person would kill me.
But my initial question: how does this anonymous person know the color of MOST people’s poop? Sure, we can speculate and assume… what, does s/he do when no one is watching? Whom does s/he watch defecate? And why isn’t it me?
Thank you, Passover! For making a certain gentleman/lady’s fecal matter darker than Satan’s soul!
Why? Why, for 7/8 days each year, do Jews put themselves in constipatorial jeopardy (Take that, Trebek! Answer in the form of a BM)?
(or… worse John Grisham novel ever)
Why?
And in an inordinate percentage!
Strictly observant Jews do not work, go to school or carry out any business on the first and last day(s) of Passover … however, only about 10% of the American Jewish population observes this rule strictly. (jewfaq.com)
According to an article by Shmuel Rosner found on slate.com from April 17, 2008, 65% of intermarried Jews and 90% of in-married Jews attend a Passover seder.
Damn!
That’s a lot!
Why? What’s your take on it—why do so many Jews go to a Passover seder each year?
Why?
What is it about a seder that encourages Jews to be Jews?
Well, for one thing—it’s dinner. Who refuses dinner?
Secondly, it’s interactive! There’s singing, choreography, it’s a big production… and Jews love Broadway!
Musicals!
Fabulous!
Also, it reminds people that it could always be worse. So what if your life sucks—at least you’re not a slave… like you used to be.
And that’s yet another reason African-Americans and Jewish-Americans should be BFF.
(The first reason… naturally, both our people are exceptional rappers, basketball players and kugel-makers).
AND another reason many Jews marched for Civil Rights in the South in the 1960s… most notably Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel with Dr. Martin Luther King in Alabama.
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/eliyahu5733/87450235/)
My father just informed me of the following hilarious/harrowing ordeal:
The 17 year old Lincoln Continental he inherited from my grandpa is… no more.
Now—like a Mastercard commercial:
It passed inspection that this past Friday: $157
The new owner's card was ordered on Saturday: $36.50
and an hour before he drove it, he had filled the tank: $45 worth of gas
Watching (from a safe distance) as it catches on fire and burns to a crisp in the parking lot of a …(wait for it) cemetery! … priceless.
For everything else… there’s Irony.
Yes, my parents went to a funeral yesterday.
That’s not funny.
But the fact that their 20 year old car, in which they had just invested $240, burst into flames at the funeral… that’s funny.
But to quote my dad, “It just doesn't matter. If it was going to blow up anyway, thank God it did where and when it did. It could have been so much worse; on a road, in a parking garage, near a house or kids. Baruch HaShem [Thank God]”
Amen, Pop.
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We're gonna start with bodily functions, end up at mortality. Hang on.
“Then thou shalt say unto thy son, We were Pharaoh’s bondmen in Egypt; and the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.”
-- Deuteronomy 6:21
“My poop is brown. I know, most people’s poop is brown. But I mean… mine is REALLY brown.”
-- ?
First of all, I can’t tell WHO said this last quote, because this person would kill me.
But my initial question: how does this anonymous person know the color of MOST people’s poop? Sure, we can speculate and assume… what, does s/he do when no one is watching? Whom does s/he watch defecate? And why isn’t it me?
Thank you, Passover! For making a certain gentleman/lady’s fecal matter darker than Satan’s soul!
Why? Why, for 7/8 days each year, do Jews put themselves in constipatorial jeopardy (Take that, Trebek! Answer in the form of a BM)?
(or… worse John Grisham novel ever)
Why?
And in an inordinate percentage!
Strictly observant Jews do not work, go to school or carry out any business on the first and last day(s) of Passover … however, only about 10% of the American Jewish population observes this rule strictly. (jewfaq.com)
According to an article by Shmuel Rosner found on slate.com from April 17, 2008, 65% of intermarried Jews and 90% of in-married Jews attend a Passover seder.
Damn!
That’s a lot!
Why? What’s your take on it—why do so many Jews go to a Passover seder each year?
Why?
What is it about a seder that encourages Jews to be Jews?
Well, for one thing—it’s dinner. Who refuses dinner?
Secondly, it’s interactive! There’s singing, choreography, it’s a big production… and Jews love Broadway!
Musicals!
Fabulous!
Also, it reminds people that it could always be worse. So what if your life sucks—at least you’re not a slave… like you used to be.
And that’s yet another reason African-Americans and Jewish-Americans should be BFF.
(The first reason… naturally, both our people are exceptional rappers, basketball players and kugel-makers).
AND another reason many Jews marched for Civil Rights in the South in the 1960s… most notably Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel with Dr. Martin Luther King in Alabama.
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/eliyahu5733/87450235/)
My father just informed me of the following hilarious/harrowing ordeal:
The 17 year old Lincoln Continental he inherited from my grandpa is… no more.
Now—like a Mastercard commercial:
It passed inspection that this past Friday: $157
The new owner's card was ordered on Saturday: $36.50
and an hour before he drove it, he had filled the tank: $45 worth of gas
Watching (from a safe distance) as it catches on fire and burns to a crisp in the parking lot of a …(wait for it) cemetery! … priceless.
For everything else… there’s Irony.
Yes, my parents went to a funeral yesterday.
That’s not funny.
But the fact that their 20 year old car, in which they had just invested $240, burst into flames at the funeral… that’s funny.
But to quote my dad, “It just doesn't matter. If it was going to blow up anyway, thank God it did where and when it did. It could have been so much worse; on a road, in a parking garage, near a house or kids. Baruch HaShem [Thank God]”
Amen, Pop.
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Wednesday, April 7
Two Twins and a Lie
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“And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering. But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth…;” (Genesis 4:4-5).
“And the LORD said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?”
(Genesis 4:9)
Okay, time for some brutal honesty:
When I was 5 years old I … repeated kindergarten.
But I was not alone—my twin brother also repeated kindergarten.
(sigh)
Oh, sweet Lord forgive me!
That paste was so tasty I had to eat it for another year!
(ahem)
Naturally, after that I developed soul-crushing self-doubts about my intelligence, which is toetully ridikooluss.
(Me likey skissors)
No no. Actually, these doubts were all in my head and completely unfounded.
I was always among the top 30 in my class (And the lady in the trailer on cinder blocks said I read super good, long time).
All that being said— when I turned 13, something changed.
I had my Bar-Mitzvah ceremony, a Jewish rite of passage. So that Friday, the day before my big BM (what?), my father took me aside and quietly said, “Aaron, you’re old enough now to know the truth. When you and your brother finished your first year of kindergarten, the teachers told us that one of you could possibly move on to 1st grade, but the other kid definitely needed to repeat kindergarten… Aaron, YOU were the kid who could’ve moved on to 1st grade.”
I couldn’t believe it.
My father continued, “But we felt it would’ve damaged the relationship between you and your brother, being identical twins and all. And we were told it was better for you to stay behind at the age of 5, rather than struggle to catch up for the rest of elementary school.”
I was shocked.
“But don’t tell your brother, it’ll just make him upset. You can be the bigger man, can’t you, Aaron?”
I assured my father that I could be the bigger man.
And I was.
… for a few hours.
Then my brother and I started arguing over which songs the DJ would play at our Bar Mitzvah party/record hop/ice cream buffet, which would occur the next evening.
My Brother: “That song from ‘Grease’ sucks!”
Me: “Y’know what—YOU suck!”
Brother: “Oh, brilliant comeback.”
Me: “Ha! What do YOU know about brilliant—YOU were the reason we repeated kindergarten!”
My brother looked confused. I felt bad, but I also really wanted the DJ to play ‘Summer Lovin’”—so I continued.
“Yeah, Dad told me that I could’ve gone to 1st grade, but you HAD to be held back, so they held BOTH of us back.”
Then there was a pause, my brother’s eyes got wide and suddenly he shouted, “Dad told ME that YOU had to be held back and that I was the one who could’ve gone to 1st grade!”
What????
Son of a bee sting!
The old man had done it again.
To this day we don’t know which one of us HAD to be held back for that second year of kindergarten… maybe both… maybe neither.
But we do know one thing—
our father
… is a liar.
And blood is thicker than paste.
“For I say,… to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think. …”
-- Romans 12:3
.
“And the LORD had respect unto Abel and to his offering. But unto Cain and to his offering he had not respect. And Cain was very wroth…;” (Genesis 4:4-5).
“And the LORD said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother? And he said, I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?”
(Genesis 4:9)
Okay, time for some brutal honesty:
When I was 5 years old I … repeated kindergarten.
But I was not alone—my twin brother also repeated kindergarten.
(sigh)
Oh, sweet Lord forgive me!
That paste was so tasty I had to eat it for another year!
(ahem)
Naturally, after that I developed soul-crushing self-doubts about my intelligence, which is toetully ridikooluss.
(Me likey skissors)
No no. Actually, these doubts were all in my head and completely unfounded.
I was always among the top 30 in my class (And the lady in the trailer on cinder blocks said I read super good, long time).
All that being said— when I turned 13, something changed.
I had my Bar-Mitzvah ceremony, a Jewish rite of passage. So that Friday, the day before my big BM (what?), my father took me aside and quietly said, “Aaron, you’re old enough now to know the truth. When you and your brother finished your first year of kindergarten, the teachers told us that one of you could possibly move on to 1st grade, but the other kid definitely needed to repeat kindergarten… Aaron, YOU were the kid who could’ve moved on to 1st grade.”
I couldn’t believe it.
My father continued, “But we felt it would’ve damaged the relationship between you and your brother, being identical twins and all. And we were told it was better for you to stay behind at the age of 5, rather than struggle to catch up for the rest of elementary school.”
I was shocked.
“But don’t tell your brother, it’ll just make him upset. You can be the bigger man, can’t you, Aaron?”
I assured my father that I could be the bigger man.
And I was.
… for a few hours.
Then my brother and I started arguing over which songs the DJ would play at our Bar Mitzvah party/record hop/ice cream buffet, which would occur the next evening.
My Brother: “That song from ‘Grease’ sucks!”
Me: “Y’know what—YOU suck!”
Brother: “Oh, brilliant comeback.”
Me: “Ha! What do YOU know about brilliant—YOU were the reason we repeated kindergarten!”
My brother looked confused. I felt bad, but I also really wanted the DJ to play ‘Summer Lovin’”—so I continued.
“Yeah, Dad told me that I could’ve gone to 1st grade, but you HAD to be held back, so they held BOTH of us back.”
Then there was a pause, my brother’s eyes got wide and suddenly he shouted, “Dad told ME that YOU had to be held back and that I was the one who could’ve gone to 1st grade!”
What????
Son of a bee sting!
The old man had done it again.
To this day we don’t know which one of us HAD to be held back for that second year of kindergarten… maybe both… maybe neither.
But we do know one thing—
our father
… is a liar.
And blood is thicker than paste.
“For I say,… to every man that is among you, not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think. …”
-- Romans 12:3
.
Sunday, April 4
Cave of wonders
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"And Moses lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice: and the water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank, and their beasts also."
--Numbers 20:10
I have been away from my computer for a few days.
Why?
I was in Petra, Jordan.
What a ride.
What's there to see in Petra?
Well, if you've seen the end of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", you know.
There is a monastery (technically dubbed "Treasury") carved into the side of a mountain.
The exterior is used in Indy 3.
It's where Indy found the holy grail!
("We named the DOG 'Indiana'"
"You were named after the dog?! Ha ha ha!")
But apparently it's more than just a set piece. It's real!
And that's only a small part of what they have in Petra.
There are also camels! and donkeys! and loud hairy men trying to sell crappy jewelery and small, annoying children trying to sell postcards.
A magical place.
My wife bought a blue topaz necklace from one fellow. It was only 1 dinar (or $1.50)! What a deal!
Last night she was wearing it as we walked through the streets of Jerusalem. After 15 minutes I noticed something odd.
"Um, honey," I said. "You're bosoms are blue."
Sure enough, he perspiration had caused the blue coloring from the super cheap necklace to rub off onto her chest, giving her a medical condition I dubbed "Avatartits." She thought it looked like Papa Smurf had done something disgusting on her.
My wife! So traveler tip: don't buy jewelery for less than 2 bucks in Petra.
Anyway, we explored the caves of Jordan and learned stuff, too.
And the sandstone rocks in Petra contain zinc oxide, so the ancient Nabataeans (who lived there) would use it as rouge, eye shadow, as well as antibiotic ointment-- all good for the skin.
Cool!
Experts also say Petra was inhabited as far back as 1500 BCE!
Why?
Well, according to Wikipedia (my exhaustive dedication to research is unparalleled), "the Nabataeans controlled flash floods by the use of dams, cisterns and water conduits. These innovations stored water for prolonged periods of drought, and enabled the city to prosper from its sale."
The flash floods came from Wadi Musa, which translated to mean "The Valley of Moses."
Y'see, tradition says that Petra was the site for Moses' impatient rock-hitting, which ticked off God, who then forbade Moses from entering the Promised Land.
"...therefore ye shall not bring this congregation into the land which I have given them"
-- Numbers 20:12
Bummer.
Physical violence isn't the answer.
Whether you're throwing chairs at women praying by the Western Wall, or punching your brother in the nose because you feel guilty about the genocide in Rwanda, or if you're Moses and God tells you "speak ye unto the rock before their eyes; and it shall give forth his water"
(Numbers 20:8).
Use your words!
Even if those words are, "Hey, rock! Gimme some water!"
It's an important lesson-- the most advanced creation by humans is language. And when you stop using language... you stop... y'know... doin' stuff... that is good... to do.
Yup.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."
-- Isaac Asimov, from his novel "Federation"
.
"And Moses lifted up his hand, and with his rod he smote the rock twice: and the water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank, and their beasts also."
--Numbers 20:10
I have been away from my computer for a few days.
Why?
I was in Petra, Jordan.
What a ride.
What's there to see in Petra?
Well, if you've seen the end of "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", you know.
There is a monastery (technically dubbed "Treasury") carved into the side of a mountain.
The exterior is used in Indy 3.
It's where Indy found the holy grail!
("We named the DOG 'Indiana'"
"You were named after the dog?! Ha ha ha!")
But apparently it's more than just a set piece. It's real!
And that's only a small part of what they have in Petra.
There are also camels! and donkeys! and loud hairy men trying to sell crappy jewelery and small, annoying children trying to sell postcards.
A magical place.
My wife bought a blue topaz necklace from one fellow. It was only 1 dinar (or $1.50)! What a deal!
Last night she was wearing it as we walked through the streets of Jerusalem. After 15 minutes I noticed something odd.
"Um, honey," I said. "You're bosoms are blue."
Sure enough, he perspiration had caused the blue coloring from the super cheap necklace to rub off onto her chest, giving her a medical condition I dubbed "Avatartits." She thought it looked like Papa Smurf had done something disgusting on her.
My wife! So traveler tip: don't buy jewelery for less than 2 bucks in Petra.
Anyway, we explored the caves of Jordan and learned stuff, too.
And the sandstone rocks in Petra contain zinc oxide, so the ancient Nabataeans (who lived there) would use it as rouge, eye shadow, as well as antibiotic ointment-- all good for the skin.
Cool!
Experts also say Petra was inhabited as far back as 1500 BCE!
Why?
Well, according to Wikipedia (my exhaustive dedication to research is unparalleled), "the Nabataeans controlled flash floods by the use of dams, cisterns and water conduits. These innovations stored water for prolonged periods of drought, and enabled the city to prosper from its sale."
The flash floods came from Wadi Musa, which translated to mean "The Valley of Moses."
Y'see, tradition says that Petra was the site for Moses' impatient rock-hitting, which ticked off God, who then forbade Moses from entering the Promised Land.
"...therefore ye shall not bring this congregation into the land which I have given them"
-- Numbers 20:12
Bummer.
Physical violence isn't the answer.
Whether you're throwing chairs at women praying by the Western Wall, or punching your brother in the nose because you feel guilty about the genocide in Rwanda, or if you're Moses and God tells you "speak ye unto the rock before their eyes; and it shall give forth his water"
(Numbers 20:8).
Use your words!
Even if those words are, "Hey, rock! Gimme some water!"
It's an important lesson-- the most advanced creation by humans is language. And when you stop using language... you stop... y'know... doin' stuff... that is good... to do.
Yup.
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."
-- Isaac Asimov, from his novel "Federation"
.
Tuesday, March 30
Passover Mobile-- the flat bread truck
.
"And ye shall observe the feast of unleavened bread; for in this selfsame day have I brought your armies out of the land of Egypt: therefore shall ye observe this day in your generations by an ordinance for ever."
- Exodus 12:17
"And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body."
- Matthew 26:26
Wow, Jesus. You taste kinda bland.
Could we get a mesquite-flavored lord?
If a communion wafer reminds anyone of matzah, that makes sense, since the Last Supper took place during Passover.
"Now the first day of the feast of unleavened bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying unto him, Where wilt thou that we prepare for thee to eat the passover?"
- Matthew 26:17
Of course, Da Vinci painted bread on the table... yet another mistake of his (the other two: the Vetruvian man actually was wearing a banana hammock and Mona Lisa had six-fingered on her left hand... and killed Inigo Montoya's dad... that bitch).
In America, you folks pay about 75 cents a box. They GIVE away 5 pound boxes at the supermarket.
Ironically, in Israel this is not the case.
$5.75 for a pound of matzah.
I know.
So-- Christians and Jews, connected through stale flatbread.
And yet-- whenever Jews bring in a box of matzah to their places of business, their non-Jewish co-workers go wild.
Why?
Why do non-Jews love matzah so much?
My theory—
Christians have their little Jesus cracker, little sip of wine (we Jews have similar nosh, we just save ours till after services, but tomato-potato).
Christians must see matzah and go, “Damn! Look at the size of that thing. Your god must be HUGE!”
The body of Jesus and all they get is a little saltine?
They’re still paying retail when it comes to religious snack food.
We Jews have the Costco version of the communion wafer.
They have cracker envy, plain and simple.
.
"And ye shall observe the feast of unleavened bread; for in this selfsame day have I brought your armies out of the land of Egypt: therefore shall ye observe this day in your generations by an ordinance for ever."
- Exodus 12:17
"And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body."
- Matthew 26:26
Wow, Jesus. You taste kinda bland.
Could we get a mesquite-flavored lord?
If a communion wafer reminds anyone of matzah, that makes sense, since the Last Supper took place during Passover.
"Now the first day of the feast of unleavened bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying unto him, Where wilt thou that we prepare for thee to eat the passover?"
- Matthew 26:17
Of course, Da Vinci painted bread on the table... yet another mistake of his (the other two: the Vetruvian man actually was wearing a banana hammock and Mona Lisa had six-fingered on her left hand... and killed Inigo Montoya's dad... that bitch).
In America, you folks pay about 75 cents a box. They GIVE away 5 pound boxes at the supermarket.
Ironically, in Israel this is not the case.
$5.75 for a pound of matzah.
I know.
So-- Christians and Jews, connected through stale flatbread.
And yet-- whenever Jews bring in a box of matzah to their places of business, their non-Jewish co-workers go wild.
Why?
Why do non-Jews love matzah so much?
My theory—
Christians have their little Jesus cracker, little sip of wine (we Jews have similar nosh, we just save ours till after services, but tomato-potato).
Christians must see matzah and go, “Damn! Look at the size of that thing. Your god must be HUGE!”
The body of Jesus and all they get is a little saltine?
They’re still paying retail when it comes to religious snack food.
We Jews have the Costco version of the communion wafer.
They have cracker envy, plain and simple.
.
Monday, March 29
Passover! Jews & Gentiles
.
"And the Jews’ passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem"
-- John 2:13
What is the meaning of Passover?
Here is an exchange between a Christian and a Jewish boy, comparing their respective Spring holidays:
"We go to church... maybe."
"We go to synagogue... maybe."
"Cool. I have to wear a tie and shiny shoes."
"Me too."
"Really? We have my relatives over.
"Me too!"
"Cool! And of course, there's the bunny!"
"Me t—… Say what?"
"The Easter Bunny. The Giant Rabbit that symbolizes Easter… along with pastel eggs"
"Riiiiight."
"You don't have any animals for Passover?"
“Um… we have frogs!”
“Cool! And do they sing and play the banjo?”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, are they cute frogs?”
“They WOULD be… if they weren’t preceded by a river of blood and followed by 8 more plagues.”
“Any other Passover animals?”
"Well… we have a song about one little goat."
"Great! And is he a happy, healthy goat?"
"At first… but then he gets eaten by a cat”
“When does that happen in the song?”
“The second verse.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, but that's okay, because the cat that ate the goat gets bitten by a dog, and they hit the dog with a stick, and later there's a cow who is killed and a butcher who is killed and the Angel of Death… it's a song for children! Yeesh!"
"Well… my mom makes glazed ham, candied yams, delicious!”
“We eat matzah… which is like cardboard that makes you irregular.”
“We eat chocolate eggs, chocolate rabbits, chocolate candy of all kinds!”
“We eat… chocolate-covered… matzah! Jesus.”
“I’ll trade you my chocolate eggs for your matzah.”
“Really??? Sure… Wow, what a schmuck. Jesus!”
“Where?”
(The mystery isn't who hid the Afikoman or why the Christian God has a Hispanic name, it's the fact that Gentiles love matzah— go figure!)
Happy Passover!
May none of your four questions include- "Whose bra is this?"
.javascript:void(0)
"And the Jews’ passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem"
-- John 2:13
What is the meaning of Passover?
Here is an exchange between a Christian and a Jewish boy, comparing their respective Spring holidays:
"We go to church... maybe."
"We go to synagogue... maybe."
"Cool. I have to wear a tie and shiny shoes."
"Me too."
"Really? We have my relatives over.
"Me too!"
"Cool! And of course, there's the bunny!"
"Me t—… Say what?"
"The Easter Bunny. The Giant Rabbit that symbolizes Easter… along with pastel eggs"
"Riiiiight."
"You don't have any animals for Passover?"
“Um… we have frogs!”
“Cool! And do they sing and play the banjo?”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, are they cute frogs?”
“They WOULD be… if they weren’t preceded by a river of blood and followed by 8 more plagues.”
“Any other Passover animals?”
"Well… we have a song about one little goat."
"Great! And is he a happy, healthy goat?"
"At first… but then he gets eaten by a cat”
“When does that happen in the song?”
“The second verse.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, but that's okay, because the cat that ate the goat gets bitten by a dog, and they hit the dog with a stick, and later there's a cow who is killed and a butcher who is killed and the Angel of Death… it's a song for children! Yeesh!"
"Well… my mom makes glazed ham, candied yams, delicious!”
“We eat matzah… which is like cardboard that makes you irregular.”
“We eat chocolate eggs, chocolate rabbits, chocolate candy of all kinds!”
“We eat… chocolate-covered… matzah! Jesus.”
“I’ll trade you my chocolate eggs for your matzah.”
“Really??? Sure… Wow, what a schmuck. Jesus!”
“Where?”
(The mystery isn't who hid the Afikoman or why the Christian God has a Hispanic name, it's the fact that Gentiles love matzah— go figure!)
Happy Passover!
May none of your four questions include- "Whose bra is this?"
.javascript:void(0)
I Know You Want to Cleave Me...
.
“For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife”
-- Mark 10:7 (based on Genesis 2:24)
How unique is my wife?
When I came home this afternoon, I started checking my e-mail on my wife’s computer.
Here is what I found:
In the DVD player:
“Star Trek, Next Generation, Season 6”
Google word search?
“Fluffy matzah balls”
Youtube video search?
“How to cut your man’s hair”
Moral:
My wife had two things in her hands today—
Scissors and balls.
ahem.
She boldly goes where no one has gone before
.
“For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife”
-- Mark 10:7 (based on Genesis 2:24)
How unique is my wife?
When I came home this afternoon, I started checking my e-mail on my wife’s computer.
Here is what I found:
In the DVD player:
“Star Trek, Next Generation, Season 6”
Google word search?
“Fluffy matzah balls”
Youtube video search?
“How to cut your man’s hair”
Moral:
My wife had two things in her hands today—
Scissors and balls.
ahem.
She boldly goes where no one has gone before
.
Sunday, March 28
Jewman Trafficking
.
“Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently… fret not… Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the LORD, they shall inherit the earth.”
-- Psalms 37:7-9
What is the worst thing about Israel?
Time’s up.
Answer:
Traffic.
I was reading last year’s Frommer’s guide, which says:
“Terrorism has become a problem everywhere in the world…. Despite the news of the past few years, the chance is actually greater that you’ll be involved in a traffic mishap while in Israel.”
--- (Robert Ullian, p.73)
Hooray!
Yahoo for school!
Yeah, that’s a relief for all you tourists, but that doesn’t bode well for me!
And trust me, I must bode well (if I bode at all, and with my sciatica, I don’t bode too frequently… is this horse dead yet?).
Jerusalem is like Time’s Square combined with Boston rush hour and y’know those crazy cab drivers in Manhattan? Well, that’s how ALL Israelis drive!
Generalization? Sure. But close to the truth.
Running through the streets of Jerusalem, I am privy to some of the most terrifying traffic known to man. Everyone feels entitled: the buses, the taxis, the pedestrians—you can see a 2 ton bus filled with 30 people brought to a stand-still when a 23-year old Orthodox mom, pushing a stroller with twins and carrying 15 pounds of rugelach, bumps into a friend and decides to catch up on old times… in the middle of the street.
You know how docile most Jews are? Well, not here! In Israel the Jews all have guns by the time they’re 18.
So most Jews opt to walk in Jerusalem.
And why not?
That's how we got here in the first place.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil..."
-- Psalm 23:4
(or was it Coolio?)
(or maybe Weird Al)
“Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently… fret not… Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: fret not thyself in any wise to do evil. For evildoers shall be cut off: but those that wait upon the LORD, they shall inherit the earth.”
-- Psalms 37:7-9
What is the worst thing about Israel?
Time’s up.
Answer:
Traffic.
I was reading last year’s Frommer’s guide, which says:
“Terrorism has become a problem everywhere in the world…. Despite the news of the past few years, the chance is actually greater that you’ll be involved in a traffic mishap while in Israel.”
--- (Robert Ullian, p.73)
Hooray!
Yahoo for school!
Yeah, that’s a relief for all you tourists, but that doesn’t bode well for me!
And trust me, I must bode well (if I bode at all, and with my sciatica, I don’t bode too frequently… is this horse dead yet?).
Jerusalem is like Time’s Square combined with Boston rush hour and y’know those crazy cab drivers in Manhattan? Well, that’s how ALL Israelis drive!
Generalization? Sure. But close to the truth.
Running through the streets of Jerusalem, I am privy to some of the most terrifying traffic known to man. Everyone feels entitled: the buses, the taxis, the pedestrians—you can see a 2 ton bus filled with 30 people brought to a stand-still when a 23-year old Orthodox mom, pushing a stroller with twins and carrying 15 pounds of rugelach, bumps into a friend and decides to catch up on old times… in the middle of the street.
You know how docile most Jews are? Well, not here! In Israel the Jews all have guns by the time they’re 18.
So most Jews opt to walk in Jerusalem.
And why not?
That's how we got here in the first place.
"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil..."
-- Psalm 23:4
(or was it Coolio?)
(or maybe Weird Al)
Saturday, March 27
Bro's
.
"A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."
- Proverbs 17:17
Amen, Proverbs. Amen.
I remember the summer I turned 15.
My older brother and I were swimming in the ocean off the Jersey Shore (motto: “Now with less corpses than the Hudson”).
We were splashing around, having a gay ol’ time (it was fabulous), when suddenly my brother screamed.
Don’t panic.
It wasn’t a blood-curdling scream (if his blood were yogurt, it would still be fresh). But he was definitely in pain.
He quickly swam back to shore, and I followed.
He lay on the sand and that’s when I saw his left leg— was tinted pink with red pustules.
“Jellyfish,” he said, betwixt expletives.
He winced, I fretted and began helping him walk back home from the beach.
But he was in too much pain.
Something had to be done.
And so I snapped into action.
And some of you already know what’s coming.
We had heard rumors that uric acid neutralizes the stinging of jellyfish .
Well, rumors are good enough for me!
(as it turns out, that only works for stings from sea urchins... oh well)
We climbed a dune, stood behind a bush, and I did my brotherly duty (that’s d-u-t-y… I just went #1).
Why did I do it?
Because I love my brother.
And did it help?
It helped me… I really had to go.
But that’s what brother’s do for one another.
They laugh together.
They cry together.
And when the time comes,
they piss on each other.
.
"A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity."
- Proverbs 17:17
Amen, Proverbs. Amen.
I remember the summer I turned 15.
My older brother and I were swimming in the ocean off the Jersey Shore (motto: “Now with less corpses than the Hudson”).
We were splashing around, having a gay ol’ time (it was fabulous), when suddenly my brother screamed.
Don’t panic.
It wasn’t a blood-curdling scream (if his blood were yogurt, it would still be fresh). But he was definitely in pain.
He quickly swam back to shore, and I followed.
He lay on the sand and that’s when I saw his left leg— was tinted pink with red pustules.
“Jellyfish,” he said, betwixt expletives.
He winced, I fretted and began helping him walk back home from the beach.
But he was in too much pain.
Something had to be done.
And so I snapped into action.
And some of you already know what’s coming.
We had heard rumors that uric acid neutralizes the stinging of jellyfish .
Well, rumors are good enough for me!
(as it turns out, that only works for stings from sea urchins... oh well)
We climbed a dune, stood behind a bush, and I did my brotherly duty (that’s d-u-t-y… I just went #1).
Why did I do it?
Because I love my brother.
And did it help?
It helped me… I really had to go.
But that’s what brother’s do for one another.
They laugh together.
They cry together.
And when the time comes,
they piss on each other.
.
Friday, March 26
“ Don’t Stop Believin’ ”-- Journey
.
Living here in Israel, my lovely wife and I get homesick for the United States.
And the best way to feel at home?
Watch DVDs! My best friends in the whole wide world!
I own many DVDs of many varieties: drama, sports, comedy, action, TV series, Pixar, home movies…
Impressed?
Of course.
My wife owns many DVDs, as well.
Eighty percent of which are “Star Trek” episodes.
Every single episode of “The Next Generation,” 129 hours, 49 DVDs.
Ahem.
But she’s a girl… so you can’t make jokes about how she’ll never get a girlfriend (ooh, that would be hot, though--- right?).
My wife often forces me to watch the intergalactic escapades of the Star Trek gang—including Geordi la Forge and Worf (the only brothers on TNG, one of them’s blind and the other has a skull shaped like the Agrocrag from Nickelodean’s “Guts”)
But here’s a gem of an exchange between the android, Data, and Lal, his “daughter,” another android:
Lal:
Then why do you still try to emulate humans? What purpose does it serve except to remind you that you are incomplete?
Lt. Cmdr. Data:
I have asked myself that many times, as I have struggled to be more human. Until I realized it is the struggle itself that is most important. We must strive to be more than we are, Lal. It does not matter that we will never reach our ultimate goal. The effort yields its own rewards.
-- (TNG, Season 3, ep. 16, "The Offspring,” written by René Echevarria)
Oh, Data, you so crazy…
That wisdom could’ve come from the mouth of Jesus, Obi wan… or a fortune cookie.
That’s good, profound stuff.
Essentially-- it’s the Journey, not the Destination.
A trite saying, but still true.
And ‘tis the season for a journey!
The holiday of Passover begins this Monday evening, commemorating the Israelites’ exodus from slavery in Egypt. Then they wandered in the desert for 40 years, finally making it to Canaan… later dubbed Israel, and all their problems came to an end.
But the Journey is more important than the destination.
Most Jews have been on a journey.
We’re a nomadic people.
Most Jews have lived OUTSIDE of Israel for most of world history, unsure where to call “home.”
Heck, it even takes the Israelites all 5 books of the Torah just to get to Israel.
And once they’re there… stuff gets complicated.
Y’see, as a nomadic people—sure life sucks, but it’s simple.
You live somewhere. The natives try to kill you… you pack up your stuff and go some place else.
Jules: I'll just walk the earth.
Vincent: What'cha mean walk the earth?
Jules: You know, walk the earth, meet people... get into adventures. Like Caine from "Kung Fu."
-- “Pulp Fiction”, 1994, screenplay by Quentin Tarantino
Amen, Jules.
It’s all about the journey.
Especially when it comes to women and romance.
A night of love starts with dinner—
Sure, dessert is the best part of the meal, but you gotta do some foreplay with the salad and soup before shoving that hot, tasty slice of cherry pie in your face, with whip cream running down your— and the pie might be too hot, you burn your tongue—oh god, the crust is in my hair…
ahem.
… and that’s not good for anybody.
Food-sex Analogy—nailed it.
But I will miss that pie (no no, literal pie) next week, when Passover starts. Observant Jews refrain from eating bread and bread products for a week. Why?
“And Moses said unto the people, Remember this day, in which ye came out from Egypt, out of the house of bondage; for by strength of hand the LORD brought you out from this place: there shall no leavened bread be eaten.”
-- Exodus 13:3
“Logic doesn’t really work with Passover.”
-- My lovely wife, earlier today
Amen, Wife.
It’s impossible to truly know what it was like to be a slave in Egypt, but we can limit our diets for one week, suffering a little bit… like slaves.
And really- is it THAT big a deal, to go all “Atkins” for a week?
… hell yes!
But it’s a journey.
A seven-day constipated journey.
.
Living here in Israel, my lovely wife and I get homesick for the United States.
And the best way to feel at home?
Watch DVDs! My best friends in the whole wide world!
I own many DVDs of many varieties: drama, sports, comedy, action, TV series, Pixar, home movies…
Impressed?
Of course.
My wife owns many DVDs, as well.
Eighty percent of which are “Star Trek” episodes.
Every single episode of “The Next Generation,” 129 hours, 49 DVDs.
Ahem.
But she’s a girl… so you can’t make jokes about how she’ll never get a girlfriend (ooh, that would be hot, though--- right?).
My wife often forces me to watch the intergalactic escapades of the Star Trek gang—including Geordi la Forge and Worf (the only brothers on TNG, one of them’s blind and the other has a skull shaped like the Agrocrag from Nickelodean’s “Guts”)
But here’s a gem of an exchange between the android, Data, and Lal, his “daughter,” another android:
Lal:
Then why do you still try to emulate humans? What purpose does it serve except to remind you that you are incomplete?
Lt. Cmdr. Data:
I have asked myself that many times, as I have struggled to be more human. Until I realized it is the struggle itself that is most important. We must strive to be more than we are, Lal. It does not matter that we will never reach our ultimate goal. The effort yields its own rewards.
-- (TNG, Season 3, ep. 16, "The Offspring,” written by René Echevarria)
Oh, Data, you so crazy…
That wisdom could’ve come from the mouth of Jesus, Obi wan… or a fortune cookie.
That’s good, profound stuff.
Essentially-- it’s the Journey, not the Destination.
A trite saying, but still true.
And ‘tis the season for a journey!
The holiday of Passover begins this Monday evening, commemorating the Israelites’ exodus from slavery in Egypt. Then they wandered in the desert for 40 years, finally making it to Canaan… later dubbed Israel, and all their problems came to an end.
But the Journey is more important than the destination.
Most Jews have been on a journey.
We’re a nomadic people.
Most Jews have lived OUTSIDE of Israel for most of world history, unsure where to call “home.”
Heck, it even takes the Israelites all 5 books of the Torah just to get to Israel.
And once they’re there… stuff gets complicated.
Y’see, as a nomadic people—sure life sucks, but it’s simple.
You live somewhere. The natives try to kill you… you pack up your stuff and go some place else.
Jules: I'll just walk the earth.
Vincent: What'cha mean walk the earth?
Jules: You know, walk the earth, meet people... get into adventures. Like Caine from "Kung Fu."
-- “Pulp Fiction”, 1994, screenplay by Quentin Tarantino
Amen, Jules.
It’s all about the journey.
Especially when it comes to women and romance.
A night of love starts with dinner—
Sure, dessert is the best part of the meal, but you gotta do some foreplay with the salad and soup before shoving that hot, tasty slice of cherry pie in your face, with whip cream running down your— and the pie might be too hot, you burn your tongue—oh god, the crust is in my hair…
ahem.
… and that’s not good for anybody.
Food-sex Analogy—nailed it.
But I will miss that pie (no no, literal pie) next week, when Passover starts. Observant Jews refrain from eating bread and bread products for a week. Why?
“And Moses said unto the people, Remember this day, in which ye came out from Egypt, out of the house of bondage; for by strength of hand the LORD brought you out from this place: there shall no leavened bread be eaten.”
-- Exodus 13:3
“Logic doesn’t really work with Passover.”
-- My lovely wife, earlier today
Amen, Wife.
It’s impossible to truly know what it was like to be a slave in Egypt, but we can limit our diets for one week, suffering a little bit… like slaves.
And really- is it THAT big a deal, to go all “Atkins” for a week?
… hell yes!
But it’s a journey.
A seven-day constipated journey.
.
Thursday, March 25
Say The Magic Word
.
"A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger."
-- Proverbs 15:1
Saying the right thing at the right time, can save you.
We’ve all been in situations where we said the exact, right thing and BAM—it feels great!
Jesus did that a lot.
Abraham Lincoln always seemed to have a response.
And any character in an Aaron Sorkin show—great lines.
Cyrano de Bergerac had the right idea.
Clever quips, poignant asides, great advice in times of need—- it's what we try for.
I remember two years ago, my dad was in the hospital for some spinal surgery.
My father was a figure of power and strength for my most of my childhood— he lifted anything and everything— huge planks of wood, tons of bricks, bags of cement, and on several occasions, my brothers and myself.
Then, in 2008, he had some minor surgery on his spine and neck. Minor, sure, but it’s still surgery.
The day we took him home from the hospital (it was only overnight), he was a bit upset-- ornery, if you will. He felt weak, he felt feeble, he was in the first stages of recovery. He could barely turn his head and needed to use a cane when walking (he’s much more mobile now).
But my dad was stubborn.
“I don’t want the damn cane.”
My mother insisted (as did the physical therapist), “Take the cane.”
“No.”
Back and forth, they went.
Finally my dad, fed up, shouted, “Leave the cane!”
I quietly chimed in, “Take the cannoli.”
(Ã la “The Godfather”)
There was a beat.
And then… laughter.
My dad laughed.
It cut the tension into itty bitty pieces.
Was that the funniest, cleverest thing I’ve ever said.
Of course not!
I am a comedic genius! I can think of much funnier stuff at any given moment
(example: Uh… monkey?… diarrhea sandwich?... oh, to hell with it)
But saying the right thing, at the right time, diffusing a tense situation…
Priceless.
That might have been the most rewarding laugh of my life.
Of course, I learned by watching my old man.
Just one night earlier, a few hours before his surgery, my brothers and I were visiting my dad in his hospital room.
“Aaron,” he said, “Could you unplug my heating pad? It’s the blue extension chord in the wall.”
I stooped down beside the bed, there were several plugs and wires in the wall outlet, connected to his IV drip, heart/pulse monitor, etc. No life support or anything.
I double-checked the wire of the heating pad, a blue extension chord and my dad assured me (“Yeah, the blue one”).
I should’ve expected what happened next…
I yanked out the blue chord and immediately— I heard my Dad yelp, “Oh god!”
I looked up, one hand gripping his chest, the other hand flailing about.
“Jesus Christ!”
And then, immediately— laughter.
First from my father and then my brothers. Raucous, belly laughter.
Not from me, so much. But they enjoyed it.
“Oh, you should’ve seen yourself,” my dad has said many times since, laughing at my abject terror, “Oh man. All the color left your face, you thought you’d killed me. It was great.”
Timing is everything.
.
"A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger."
-- Proverbs 15:1
Saying the right thing at the right time, can save you.
We’ve all been in situations where we said the exact, right thing and BAM—it feels great!
Jesus did that a lot.
Abraham Lincoln always seemed to have a response.
And any character in an Aaron Sorkin show—great lines.
Cyrano de Bergerac had the right idea.
Clever quips, poignant asides, great advice in times of need—- it's what we try for.
I remember two years ago, my dad was in the hospital for some spinal surgery.
My father was a figure of power and strength for my most of my childhood— he lifted anything and everything— huge planks of wood, tons of bricks, bags of cement, and on several occasions, my brothers and myself.
Then, in 2008, he had some minor surgery on his spine and neck. Minor, sure, but it’s still surgery.
The day we took him home from the hospital (it was only overnight), he was a bit upset-- ornery, if you will. He felt weak, he felt feeble, he was in the first stages of recovery. He could barely turn his head and needed to use a cane when walking (he’s much more mobile now).
But my dad was stubborn.
“I don’t want the damn cane.”
My mother insisted (as did the physical therapist), “Take the cane.”
“No.”
Back and forth, they went.
Finally my dad, fed up, shouted, “Leave the cane!”
I quietly chimed in, “Take the cannoli.”
(Ã la “The Godfather”)
There was a beat.
And then… laughter.
My dad laughed.
It cut the tension into itty bitty pieces.
Was that the funniest, cleverest thing I’ve ever said.
Of course not!
I am a comedic genius! I can think of much funnier stuff at any given moment
(example: Uh… monkey?… diarrhea sandwich?... oh, to hell with it)
But saying the right thing, at the right time, diffusing a tense situation…
Priceless.
That might have been the most rewarding laugh of my life.
Of course, I learned by watching my old man.
Just one night earlier, a few hours before his surgery, my brothers and I were visiting my dad in his hospital room.
“Aaron,” he said, “Could you unplug my heating pad? It’s the blue extension chord in the wall.”
I stooped down beside the bed, there were several plugs and wires in the wall outlet, connected to his IV drip, heart/pulse monitor, etc. No life support or anything.
I double-checked the wire of the heating pad, a blue extension chord and my dad assured me (“Yeah, the blue one”).
I should’ve expected what happened next…
I yanked out the blue chord and immediately— I heard my Dad yelp, “Oh god!”
I looked up, one hand gripping his chest, the other hand flailing about.
“Jesus Christ!”
And then, immediately— laughter.
First from my father and then my brothers. Raucous, belly laughter.
Not from me, so much. But they enjoyed it.
“Oh, you should’ve seen yourself,” my dad has said many times since, laughing at my abject terror, “Oh man. All the color left your face, you thought you’d killed me. It was great.”
Timing is everything.
.
Wednesday, March 24
“Let he among us without sin be the first to condemn/ La vie boheme” - Rent
.
“Jesus went unto the mount of Olives….
He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”
-- John 8:1,8
I was jogging through Jerusalem, as I am wont to do (why am I wont to do something? Because I want to do it. Won’t you? … ahem… so who’s on first?).
I ran by a sign with an arrow that read “Har ha-Zeytim.”
That means, literally, “Mountain of Olives.”
Coincidence—last night I was watching the film “Cloudy With a chance of meatballs”… and here was a mountain of olives?!
Point of Fact—that film, in Israel is translated as “Rain of Falafel.”
Know your audience.
(I think "Alice in Wonderland" is called “Shiksa Trips Balls on Hashish”)
Actually, Mount Olives (located in East Jerusalem) is fairly well-known.
First mention in 2nd Samuel 15:30, when King David flees the murderous Absalom (ironic name: “Father of Peace”)
Even Jesus hung out there a lot. According to the infallible word of Wikipedia, “Jesus is said to have spent time on the mount, teaching and prophesying to his disciples.”
So if Jesus is Zack Morris, Mt. Olives is “The Max.”
Completely inoffensive analogy, right?
After all, Zack Morris WAS like Jesus ca. 1991:
Zack Morris could stop—looking at the camera and saying, “Time out!”
He didn’t cure lepers, but he could make Screech cool (I’m sure that must’ve been an episode)
He healed the sick -- helped Jessi kick that nasty caffeine pill addiction; “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so— (say it with me) SCARED.”
And Zack Morris had his own Mary Magdalane.
He turned the whorish Kelly Kopowski into… less of a whore? Right? They got married in Hawaii or something.
OKAY!
Back to Jesus!
And Mount Olives!
Why did Jesus make that famous proclamation about the person without sin can cast the first stone?
Because the people “brought unto him a woman taken in adultery.” The people point out to Jesus, “Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?”
In other words, kid to the baby-sitter: “My dad lets me eat jellybeans for dinner! He does!”
And Jesus says that oh-so-famous phrase.
The people shut up, leave the room, and leave the woman and Jesus alone. He tells her, get outta here and quite fornicatin’ with married dudes (not in so many words)
(John 8:1-11).
Amen.
So—don’t cast a stone! We’ve all made mistakes.
Say it with me:
Pobody’s Nerfect.
Michael Jordan missed shots.
Tom Hanks has made crappy movies.
Some of Hemingway’s stories sucked.
So don’t beat yourself up over everything.
But that also means you gotta cut other people some slack, too.
When you point a finger at someone... you're pointing three at yourself.
... and the thumb... well, the thumb doesn't do a damn thing.
“All of you lied. Should you have asterisks behind your names? All of you have said something wrong. All of you have dirt. When your closet’s clean, then clean somebody else’s. But clean yours first.”
-- Barry Bonds, from the 2008 documentary “Bigger, Stronger, Faster*”
“Moses was a hero, but Moses was a heel, he didn’t get into the promised land, didn’t do what God told him to do.
David was a hero, but David was heel. He chased every woman in a skirt or toga or whatever they wore back then.
Every man is fallible and even the people who were the prime examples of how to run your life in the Bible-- screwed up. They all screwed up.
People need to get off their self-righteous soap boxes and start lovin’ each other."
-- the father of the filmmaker, Chris Bell, from the same film
.
“Jesus went unto the mount of Olives….
He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”
-- John 8:1,8
I was jogging through Jerusalem, as I am wont to do (why am I wont to do something? Because I want to do it. Won’t you? … ahem… so who’s on first?).
I ran by a sign with an arrow that read “Har ha-Zeytim.”
That means, literally, “Mountain of Olives.”
Coincidence—last night I was watching the film “Cloudy With a chance of meatballs”… and here was a mountain of olives?!
Point of Fact—that film, in Israel is translated as “Rain of Falafel.”
Know your audience.
(I think "Alice in Wonderland" is called “Shiksa Trips Balls on Hashish”)
Actually, Mount Olives (located in East Jerusalem) is fairly well-known.
First mention in 2nd Samuel 15:30, when King David flees the murderous Absalom (ironic name: “Father of Peace”)
Even Jesus hung out there a lot. According to the infallible word of Wikipedia, “Jesus is said to have spent time on the mount, teaching and prophesying to his disciples.”
So if Jesus is Zack Morris, Mt. Olives is “The Max.”
Completely inoffensive analogy, right?
After all, Zack Morris WAS like Jesus ca. 1991:
Zack Morris could stop—looking at the camera and saying, “Time out!”
He didn’t cure lepers, but he could make Screech cool (I’m sure that must’ve been an episode)
He healed the sick -- helped Jessi kick that nasty caffeine pill addiction; “I’m so excited, I’m so excited, I’m so— (say it with me) SCARED.”
And Zack Morris had his own Mary Magdalane.
He turned the whorish Kelly Kopowski into… less of a whore? Right? They got married in Hawaii or something.
OKAY!
Back to Jesus!
And Mount Olives!
Why did Jesus make that famous proclamation about the person without sin can cast the first stone?
Because the people “brought unto him a woman taken in adultery.” The people point out to Jesus, “Now Moses in the law commanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?”
In other words, kid to the baby-sitter: “My dad lets me eat jellybeans for dinner! He does!”
And Jesus says that oh-so-famous phrase.
The people shut up, leave the room, and leave the woman and Jesus alone. He tells her, get outta here and quite fornicatin’ with married dudes (not in so many words)
(John 8:1-11).
Amen.
So—don’t cast a stone! We’ve all made mistakes.
Say it with me:
Pobody’s Nerfect.
Michael Jordan missed shots.
Tom Hanks has made crappy movies.
Some of Hemingway’s stories sucked.
So don’t beat yourself up over everything.
But that also means you gotta cut other people some slack, too.
When you point a finger at someone... you're pointing three at yourself.
... and the thumb... well, the thumb doesn't do a damn thing.
“All of you lied. Should you have asterisks behind your names? All of you have said something wrong. All of you have dirt. When your closet’s clean, then clean somebody else’s. But clean yours first.”
-- Barry Bonds, from the 2008 documentary “Bigger, Stronger, Faster*”
“Moses was a hero, but Moses was a heel, he didn’t get into the promised land, didn’t do what God told him to do.
David was a hero, but David was heel. He chased every woman in a skirt or toga or whatever they wore back then.
Every man is fallible and even the people who were the prime examples of how to run your life in the Bible-- screwed up. They all screwed up.
People need to get off their self-righteous soap boxes and start lovin’ each other."
-- the father of the filmmaker, Chris Bell, from the same film
.
Tuesday, March 23
Brother from... the same mother
.
"And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb.... And the first... and they called his name Esau. 25:26 And after that came his brother... Jacob."
-- Genesis 24:24-26
As usual I was googling homosexuals on the web.
whoa, whoa, whoa...
like you don't?
Okay, as the husband of a rabbi-in-training, when I introduce myself to people I say, "I'm married to a future rabbi... I'm not gay... but I AM open to suggestion (wink)."
Because a lot people are traditional and do not know that women can be rabbis... and I can come off as being very FABULOUS!
I was speaking with a fellow husband of a female rabbi-to-be, and-- naturally-- we were discussing homosexuals.
We arrived on the King of Kings himself...
Liberace! Whose full name was... Wladziu Valentino Liberace.
Born in ... (wait for it)... Wisconsin!
Really.
But guess what-- Liberace had a stillborn twin brother!
And I remembered, so did Elvis! (whose middle name was Aaron, btw! Rep-a-zent!)
And who else had a stillborn twin?
I almost did.
I have an older brother named Jacob.
I have an identical twin brother named Esau.
No, no-- his name is Zack.
I was born first, 15 minutes before him. So I am technically older (not that it makes a difference-- I didn't do anything constructive with the time. I didn't boil some rice or finish a Sudoku).
But y'see, my brother was coming out backwards (out my mother's ass).
He was coming out feet first. So the doctors had to do a C-section on my mom, slicing her open like a Thanksgiving turkey (except there was no stuffing... just my brother... although the amniotic fluid WAS gravy... repulsed yet?).
Actually, the doctors saved his life, because the umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck (don't know how THAT happened-- wink).
Anyhoo, I very nearly DIDN'T have a twin brother.
And that would've... sucked.
Siblings are in your life for three major reasons:
to keep you humble ("Nobel Prize, Shmobel Prize. Remember the time you barfed on grandma?")
to bond/identify with someone about relatives ("Dad thinks the mailman is stealing the newspaper again")
and to have an all-purpose confidant.
To have someone help cover up your obvious marijuana-induced high-ness before your parents see you.
To have someone help hide pornography before your parents find it ("Son, what's this 'Donkey and Co-eds' magazine?")
To have someone help you through the tough times in life.
To tell you all women are she-devils when one breaks your heart.
To tell you when you can do better.
To tell you, "Indiana... Let it go, Indiana."
And to have someone who resents the fame of Mary-Kate and Ashley as much as you do.
"Seek always to do some good, somewhere. Every man has to seek in his own way to realize his true worth. You must give some time to your fellow man. For remember, you don't live in a world all your own. Your brothers are here too."
-- Albert Schweitzer
.
"And when her days to be delivered were fulfilled, behold, there were twins in her womb.... And the first... and they called his name Esau. 25:26 And after that came his brother... Jacob."
-- Genesis 24:24-26
As usual I was googling homosexuals on the web.
whoa, whoa, whoa...
like you don't?
Okay, as the husband of a rabbi-in-training, when I introduce myself to people I say, "I'm married to a future rabbi... I'm not gay... but I AM open to suggestion (wink)."
Because a lot people are traditional and do not know that women can be rabbis... and I can come off as being very FABULOUS!
I was speaking with a fellow husband of a female rabbi-to-be, and-- naturally-- we were discussing homosexuals.
We arrived on the King of Kings himself...
Liberace! Whose full name was... Wladziu Valentino Liberace.
Born in ... (wait for it)... Wisconsin!
Really.
But guess what-- Liberace had a stillborn twin brother!
And I remembered, so did Elvis! (whose middle name was Aaron, btw! Rep-a-zent!)
And who else had a stillborn twin?
I almost did.
I have an older brother named Jacob.
I have an identical twin brother named Esau.
No, no-- his name is Zack.
I was born first, 15 minutes before him. So I am technically older (not that it makes a difference-- I didn't do anything constructive with the time. I didn't boil some rice or finish a Sudoku).
But y'see, my brother was coming out backwards (out my mother's ass).
He was coming out feet first. So the doctors had to do a C-section on my mom, slicing her open like a Thanksgiving turkey (except there was no stuffing... just my brother... although the amniotic fluid WAS gravy... repulsed yet?).
Actually, the doctors saved his life, because the umbilical chord was wrapped around his neck (don't know how THAT happened-- wink).
Anyhoo, I very nearly DIDN'T have a twin brother.
And that would've... sucked.
Siblings are in your life for three major reasons:
to keep you humble ("Nobel Prize, Shmobel Prize. Remember the time you barfed on grandma?")
to bond/identify with someone about relatives ("Dad thinks the mailman is stealing the newspaper again")
and to have an all-purpose confidant.
To have someone help cover up your obvious marijuana-induced high-ness before your parents see you.
To have someone help hide pornography before your parents find it ("Son, what's this 'Donkey and Co-eds' magazine?")
To have someone help you through the tough times in life.
To tell you all women are she-devils when one breaks your heart.
To tell you when you can do better.
To tell you, "Indiana... Let it go, Indiana."
And to have someone who resents the fame of Mary-Kate and Ashley as much as you do.
"Seek always to do some good, somewhere. Every man has to seek in his own way to realize his true worth. You must give some time to your fellow man. For remember, you don't live in a world all your own. Your brothers are here too."
-- Albert Schweitzer
.
Monday, March 22
I Got 99 Problems...
.
"It is better to dwell in the wilderness, Than with a contentious and an angry woman."
- Proverbs 21:19
This also the motto of Fire Island.
Kidding!
Today I was running through Jerusalem's version of Central Park: Gan Soccer (translation: Garden... Soccer-- okay, actually "Soccer Garden"... much better). Crazy thing, though: That's only how it's pronounced. It's spelled "Gan Sacher."
It's actually named after some dude named Harry Sacher, an English zionist-- pronounced "Soccer," but people coincidentally play a lot of soccer there (or "futball", with an umlaut)!
And they wear little beanies on their heads
And they also call french fries "chips"--
What a country!
(really)
Anyhoo, I was running through "Gan Sacher", down pathways, amongst the trees and dirt, up hills I didn't recognize, and when I emerged from the wooded area-- guess what!
There was Mr. Tumnus, telling me to follow him... into the back of his van (he promised me Turkish delights. He promised... Oh god! What have I done?!).
NO, actually, I left the park and found myself one block away from my lovely wife's school!
Kismet!
I felt like those three pets returning to their masters in Homeward Bound! (also because I lick myself)
I called my wife, she came outside and we embraced, like we hadn't seen each other since ... this morning. We walked and talked. Talking of course leads to... arguing!
But that's okay.
We bickered a little, but quickly reconciled-- that's the beauty of a long-term relationship (or marriage)-- fights can escalate-- but they resolve themselves a lot faster than they used to.
Why?
Because you got each other's back. You got a permanent cheer leader. Someone in your corner. And that's the greatest.
That's love.
"Baby, you're the greatest!"
-- Ralph Kramden, to wife Alice (when he wasn't threatening her with physical violence)
Why am I telling you this?
So you resent me!
And because I just heard a D'var Torah (a sermon based on the weekly Torah portion) that advised me: Don't pass up opportunities to tell people how much they mean to you. Call a friend, relative, teacher, etc.
Let people know how you feel. What have you got to lose?
With the interwebs and cellular telephone machines, it's easier than ever to contact people. Trust me, I am incredibly lazy, so if I'M saying it... well then.
Touch base.
Reconnect.
And for god sakes-- stay out of Mr. Tumnus' van! (he made me his "Princess Caspian")
.
"It is better to dwell in the wilderness, Than with a contentious and an angry woman."
- Proverbs 21:19
This also the motto of Fire Island.
Kidding!
Today I was running through Jerusalem's version of Central Park: Gan Soccer (translation: Garden... Soccer-- okay, actually "Soccer Garden"... much better). Crazy thing, though: That's only how it's pronounced. It's spelled "Gan Sacher."
It's actually named after some dude named Harry Sacher, an English zionist-- pronounced "Soccer," but people coincidentally play a lot of soccer there (or "futball", with an umlaut)!
And they wear little beanies on their heads
And they also call french fries "chips"--
What a country!
(really)
Anyhoo, I was running through "Gan Sacher", down pathways, amongst the trees and dirt, up hills I didn't recognize, and when I emerged from the wooded area-- guess what!
There was Mr. Tumnus, telling me to follow him... into the back of his van (he promised me Turkish delights. He promised... Oh god! What have I done?!).
NO, actually, I left the park and found myself one block away from my lovely wife's school!
Kismet!
I felt like those three pets returning to their masters in Homeward Bound! (also because I lick myself)
I called my wife, she came outside and we embraced, like we hadn't seen each other since ... this morning. We walked and talked. Talking of course leads to... arguing!
But that's okay.
We bickered a little, but quickly reconciled-- that's the beauty of a long-term relationship (or marriage)-- fights can escalate-- but they resolve themselves a lot faster than they used to.
Why?
Because you got each other's back. You got a permanent cheer leader. Someone in your corner. And that's the greatest.
That's love.
"Baby, you're the greatest!"
-- Ralph Kramden, to wife Alice (when he wasn't threatening her with physical violence)
Why am I telling you this?
So you resent me!
And because I just heard a D'var Torah (a sermon based on the weekly Torah portion) that advised me: Don't pass up opportunities to tell people how much they mean to you. Call a friend, relative, teacher, etc.
Let people know how you feel. What have you got to lose?
With the interwebs and cellular telephone machines, it's easier than ever to contact people. Trust me, I am incredibly lazy, so if I'M saying it... well then.
Touch base.
Reconnect.
And for god sakes-- stay out of Mr. Tumnus' van! (he made me his "Princess Caspian")
.
Sunday, March 21
Say What???
.
“Day unto day uttereth speech…
There is no speech nor language…
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD..."
-- Psalm 19:14
I was buying some food in the shuk last week.
“What is the shuk?” I hear you ask hypothetically!
It is an open-air market in the heart of Jerusalem.
Istanbul has one.
Cairo has one.
Many cities in the Middle East have one.
And, from my experience, they all suck!
Haggling, not a pleasant experience.
It’s like buying a car, but one egg at a time. One orange at a time. One piece of pita at a time.
It’s like trench warfare, fighting and scraping for every meter of land/shekel of food.
So, last week, in the shuk, I had gone running, even though it was quite chilly (“Grrr! Yeah! I’m like a less masculine G.I. Jane!”).
I bought some cheese and started chatting with the cheese salesman, in my mediocre Hebrew.
Here is a translation of our conversation:
“You’re wearing shorts?” he asked.
“Yes” I responded, “I run here. I go run.”
“But it’s cold!”
“Yes” I said.
“Well, good for you.”
(then I try to be funny… and something was lost in translation)
“Yes," I continue, "but I wear shorts, no matter to me, because I am groom."
[silence from the cheese salesman, so I continue]
“… I be married, so no matter to me. I do not use my body parts down there…because I married.”
“What?” asks the cheese man.
“Because I have wife, so I have nothing to do, I have no… eggs. I can’t use my eggs for I married now. My wife took them.”
“You want to buy a dozen eggs?”
“No no… An expression... I don’t have… I can’t… my wife… [sigh] It’s a joke.”
“Oh” he said… then he walked away.
And I took my cheese and ran home.
In my shorts.
With no eggs.
To my loving, patient wife.
who speaks English, thank God.
.
“Day unto day uttereth speech…
There is no speech nor language…
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O LORD..."
-- Psalm 19:14
I was buying some food in the shuk last week.
“What is the shuk?” I hear you ask hypothetically!
It is an open-air market in the heart of Jerusalem.
Istanbul has one.
Cairo has one.
Many cities in the Middle East have one.
And, from my experience, they all suck!
Haggling, not a pleasant experience.
It’s like buying a car, but one egg at a time. One orange at a time. One piece of pita at a time.
It’s like trench warfare, fighting and scraping for every meter of land/shekel of food.
So, last week, in the shuk, I had gone running, even though it was quite chilly (“Grrr! Yeah! I’m like a less masculine G.I. Jane!”).
I bought some cheese and started chatting with the cheese salesman, in my mediocre Hebrew.
Here is a translation of our conversation:
“You’re wearing shorts?” he asked.
“Yes” I responded, “I run here. I go run.”
“But it’s cold!”
“Yes” I said.
“Well, good for you.”
(then I try to be funny… and something was lost in translation)
“Yes," I continue, "but I wear shorts, no matter to me, because I am groom."
[silence from the cheese salesman, so I continue]
“… I be married, so no matter to me. I do not use my body parts down there…because I married.”
“What?” asks the cheese man.
“Because I have wife, so I have nothing to do, I have no… eggs. I can’t use my eggs for I married now. My wife took them.”
“You want to buy a dozen eggs?”
“No no… An expression... I don’t have… I can’t… my wife… [sigh] It’s a joke.”
“Oh” he said… then he walked away.
And I took my cheese and ran home.
In my shorts.
With no eggs.
To my loving, patient wife.
who speaks English, thank God.
.
Kindness of Strangers
.
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
-- Hebrew 13:2
Living in a foreign country has forced me to do certain things.
There are many moments in your life when you’re forced to swallow something—
Your first day in the prison laundry room,
smuggling baggies of crack in through the airport
—or living in a foreign country.
The latter has forced me to swallow my pride…
and ask for help and directions
…in a foreign language.
Last Tuesday I was meeting up with my lovely bride on Ben Yehuda Street (the Jerusalem equivalent of Times Square… but much smaller, and more… Jewey).
And BAM!
My cell phone dies!
Oh no!
And I’m supposed to meet my wife SOMEWHERE soon!
These are the only situations where I marvel at life from ten years ago, before cell phones were as ubiquitous as reality shows and … y’know… other things that are everywhere.
(sigh… analogies are not my forte)
But ten years ago—how the devil did people meet up with each other before they could call each other twelve times in a thirty-minute time span?
I was stuck in downtown Jerusalem with no phone.
And all the payphones in Jerusalem rely on phone cards.
What are those?
Who the hell knows???
Not me!
Nor do I know how to purchase one!
I asked for help at a makolet (which is Hebrew for a “bodega”)
(which is Spanish for a “Kwik-E-Mart”)
(which is “Simpsons”-ese for a “convenience store”).
I said, in broken Hebrew:
“Sorry, I have problem. My phone has no working and I need to call my girl partner. If I purchase something, may I use your telephone machine?”
The owner of the makolet responded, “Of course. But you don’t have to buy anything. What? You think you’re in America? No, this is Israel. Just use the phone.”
Hm.
That’s Israel. Hospitable and selfless when you least expect it.
But try to buy a loaf of bread for less than $5 and prepare for haggling!
Later I bothered a pet supply store owner, and she, too, let me use the phone.
Also, with an attitude of "Of course, go ahead! Don't be silly!"
Israel is a country a kind people, who will gladly lend a hand, help out a stranger… and who will run you over with their cars if you impede their journey even half-a-second.
I suppose that’s the case with most lands, most peoples.
Everybody has their moments.
“We're all heroes if you catch us at the right moment.”
-- John Bubber (Andy Garcia), “Hero”, screenplay by David Webb Peoples
.
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
-- Hebrew 13:2
Living in a foreign country has forced me to do certain things.
There are many moments in your life when you’re forced to swallow something—
Your first day in the prison laundry room,
smuggling baggies of crack in through the airport
—or living in a foreign country.
The latter has forced me to swallow my pride…
and ask for help and directions
…in a foreign language.
Last Tuesday I was meeting up with my lovely bride on Ben Yehuda Street (the Jerusalem equivalent of Times Square… but much smaller, and more… Jewey).
And BAM!
My cell phone dies!
Oh no!
And I’m supposed to meet my wife SOMEWHERE soon!
These are the only situations where I marvel at life from ten years ago, before cell phones were as ubiquitous as reality shows and … y’know… other things that are everywhere.
(sigh… analogies are not my forte)
But ten years ago—how the devil did people meet up with each other before they could call each other twelve times in a thirty-minute time span?
I was stuck in downtown Jerusalem with no phone.
And all the payphones in Jerusalem rely on phone cards.
What are those?
Who the hell knows???
Not me!
Nor do I know how to purchase one!
I asked for help at a makolet (which is Hebrew for a “bodega”)
(which is Spanish for a “Kwik-E-Mart”)
(which is “Simpsons”-ese for a “convenience store”).
I said, in broken Hebrew:
“Sorry, I have problem. My phone has no working and I need to call my girl partner. If I purchase something, may I use your telephone machine?”
The owner of the makolet responded, “Of course. But you don’t have to buy anything. What? You think you’re in America? No, this is Israel. Just use the phone.”
Hm.
That’s Israel. Hospitable and selfless when you least expect it.
But try to buy a loaf of bread for less than $5 and prepare for haggling!
Later I bothered a pet supply store owner, and she, too, let me use the phone.
Also, with an attitude of "Of course, go ahead! Don't be silly!"
Israel is a country a kind people, who will gladly lend a hand, help out a stranger… and who will run you over with their cars if you impede their journey even half-a-second.
I suppose that’s the case with most lands, most peoples.
Everybody has their moments.
“We're all heroes if you catch us at the right moment.”
-- John Bubber (Andy Garcia), “Hero”, screenplay by David Webb Peoples
.
Saturday, March 20
Wall-E (a pun! how marvelous!)
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"And Ezra the priest brought the law before the congregation both of men and women, and all that could hear with understanding, upon the first day of the seventh month."
-- Nehemiah 8:2
This past Monday my wife prayed the Shacharit (morning) service.
So what?
She's done that literally HUNDREDS of times in her life.
Well, on Monday she did so at the Western Wall, with other female rabbinical students.
And chairs were thrown at them.
http://www.jta.org/news/article/2010/03/16/1011145/chairs-thrown-at-women-of-the-wall
Let me essplain... no, there is no time... Let me sum up:
First, a short history of The Wall (not Pink Floyd's)
The Western Wall (a.k.a., the Wailing Wall and in Hebrew dubbed simply "the wall"-- ha'Kotel) is nearly 200 feet long, located on the western side of the Temple Mount in Ancient Jerusalem... a place with NO CONTROVERSY WHATSOEVER.
It is the last remaining part of the Temple of Solomon... which it ain't. It's actually the outer wall that surrounded the Second Temple (built around 516 BCE), expanded by King Herod (around 19 BCE), which stood until the Roman Empire invaded and destroyed it (in 70 C.E.)
Above the Western Wall is the golden-domed "Dome of the Rock"-- what's that? Now it's a mosque that houses "The Foundation Stone." And what's THAT?
Oh nothing... except 3 big deals:
1-- The holiest spot in the Temple of Solomon (creatively dubbed "The Holy of Holies", where the High Priest could go only once a year, on Yom Kippur, where the Ten Commandments were kept.
2-- The spot of Mount Moriah where Abraham nearly sacrificed Isaac
3-- the spot where Mohammed stepped and rose to the heavens to receive a message from Allah. It is the third-holiest place for Muslims.
Yikes! Why not spread it around?!
I had the same feeling the first time I heard about the human reproductive organs ("You mean we use the same body parts to expel waste AND make babies? Gross...")
You gotta admit, that's a lot of action in one focused area!
Why not have a temple in Lebanon! Or genitalia on your elbow!
... air-tight logic, I know.
Now whenever Jews pray anywhere in the world they face the direction of the wall.
But that's not it.
Because the ultra-Orthodox and traditional Jews pray there very frequently, they kinda call the shots, so there is a mechitzah separating the Men's side of the wall, from the women's side, since traditional Orthodox men and women pray separately.
Even so, when women DO pray and sing at the Wall many, Ortho guys get upset and... ahem... throw metal folding chairs at them.
Yup.
So, on Monday, my wife led Hallel services (special prayer recited on the first of the Month/holidays) and carried the Torah. Big honor! She did great and I am very proud of her.
Yay!
Then, once she and several other women (some who were rabbinical students, some not) went to pray by the Western Wall, on the women's side, a collection of Orthodox, irate, male Jews (like a bunch of silver back gorillas), who clearly loved God and exemplified the dictum "Love Thy Neighbor"... started throwing chairs.
In the words of Jesus, "Forgive them, God, for they are a bunch of douches."
Jesus H. Crackers!
First of all, no one was hurt and my wife and her lady prayer-group were not near the actual chairs.
But still!
What the hell??!!
Is it any wonder that peace in the Middle East eludes us... when Jews are fighting other Jews.
"And I said unto the nobles, and to the rulers, and to the rest of the people, The work is great and large, and we are separated upon the wall, one far from another."
--Nehemiah 4:19
.
"And Ezra the priest brought the law before the congregation both of men and women, and all that could hear with understanding, upon the first day of the seventh month."
-- Nehemiah 8:2
This past Monday my wife prayed the Shacharit (morning) service.
So what?
She's done that literally HUNDREDS of times in her life.
Well, on Monday she did so at the Western Wall, with other female rabbinical students.
And chairs were thrown at them.
http://www.jta.org/news/article/2010/03/16/1011145/chairs-thrown-at-women-of-the-wall
Let me essplain... no, there is no time... Let me sum up:
First, a short history of The Wall (not Pink Floyd's)
The Western Wall (a.k.a., the Wailing Wall and in Hebrew dubbed simply "the wall"-- ha'Kotel) is nearly 200 feet long, located on the western side of the Temple Mount in Ancient Jerusalem... a place with NO CONTROVERSY WHATSOEVER.
It is the last remaining part of the Temple of Solomon... which it ain't. It's actually the outer wall that surrounded the Second Temple (built around 516 BCE), expanded by King Herod (around 19 BCE), which stood until the Roman Empire invaded and destroyed it (in 70 C.E.)
Above the Western Wall is the golden-domed "Dome of the Rock"-- what's that? Now it's a mosque that houses "The Foundation Stone." And what's THAT?
Oh nothing... except 3 big deals:
1-- The holiest spot in the Temple of Solomon (creatively dubbed "The Holy of Holies", where the High Priest could go only once a year, on Yom Kippur, where the Ten Commandments were kept.
2-- The spot of Mount Moriah where Abraham nearly sacrificed Isaac
3-- the spot where Mohammed stepped and rose to the heavens to receive a message from Allah. It is the third-holiest place for Muslims.
Yikes! Why not spread it around?!
I had the same feeling the first time I heard about the human reproductive organs ("You mean we use the same body parts to expel waste AND make babies? Gross...")
You gotta admit, that's a lot of action in one focused area!
Why not have a temple in Lebanon! Or genitalia on your elbow!
... air-tight logic, I know.
Now whenever Jews pray anywhere in the world they face the direction of the wall.
But that's not it.
Because the ultra-Orthodox and traditional Jews pray there very frequently, they kinda call the shots, so there is a mechitzah separating the Men's side of the wall, from the women's side, since traditional Orthodox men and women pray separately.
Even so, when women DO pray and sing at the Wall many, Ortho guys get upset and... ahem... throw metal folding chairs at them.
Yup.
So, on Monday, my wife led Hallel services (special prayer recited on the first of the Month/holidays) and carried the Torah. Big honor! She did great and I am very proud of her.
Yay!
Then, once she and several other women (some who were rabbinical students, some not) went to pray by the Western Wall, on the women's side, a collection of Orthodox, irate, male Jews (like a bunch of silver back gorillas), who clearly loved God and exemplified the dictum "Love Thy Neighbor"... started throwing chairs.
In the words of Jesus, "Forgive them, God, for they are a bunch of douches."
Jesus H. Crackers!
First of all, no one was hurt and my wife and her lady prayer-group were not near the actual chairs.
But still!
What the hell??!!
Is it any wonder that peace in the Middle East eludes us... when Jews are fighting other Jews.
"And I said unto the nobles, and to the rulers, and to the rest of the people, The work is great and large, and we are separated upon the wall, one far from another."
--Nehemiah 4:19
.
Thursday, March 18
Runnin' on Empty
.
"I just felt like running."
-- Forrest Gump, celebrity, legend, exemplary retard
“And he was there with the LORD forty days and forty nights; he did neither eat bread, nor drink water. And he wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten commandments.”
-- Exodus 34:28
Today I ran a half-marathon through the streets of Jerusalem.
21.1 kilometers, 13 miles, one goal: to not lose control of my bowels.
Misson accomplished.
Rabbi Yehuda haLevi, Called “Judah the Prince” because his knowledge was so reknowned, was kind of a racist.
He believed that Jews were superior to all other peoples.
And the basis for his argument?
While on Mount Sinai, getting the Ten Commandments, Moses went 40 days and 40 nights without food or water.
Has anyone else ever done that?
Nope.
Erego, Jews are the best!
The logic is air-tight.
Truth be told, Jews are superior to other nations because we are prodigious love-makers, blue jean-makers, and we can greenlight a movie faster than anyone else.
So there.
Okay, so while the Rabbi’s reasoning is highly suspect, Moses going nearly 6 weeks with no food or water… that’s impressive.
The lesson here?
… Gandhi was a wuss!
No no no.
Maybe.
The message:
Moses really dedicated himself to God, to the Law and to the Israelites, (and showed how INSANE he was).
In order to succeed at anything in life, you gotta have dedication.
I was coincidentally listening to an interview with Movie Producer Art Linson (Fight Club, Heat, Into the Wild, Fast Times at Ridgemont High)
He said:
The ones who are really gonna survive are the ones who say, ‘I don’t care what you say, I’m doing it.’…. You have to be truly, unafraid to fail.”
“Never trust anybody that didn’t walk the last 35 feet.”
-- Buddy Hackett
I forget who said it, but:
“I’m not one of the all-time greats. I may not even be one of the all-time goods. But I AM one of the all-time survivors”.
.
"I just felt like running."
-- Forrest Gump, celebrity, legend, exemplary retard
“And he was there with the LORD forty days and forty nights; he did neither eat bread, nor drink water. And he wrote upon the tables the words of the covenant, the ten commandments.”
-- Exodus 34:28
Today I ran a half-marathon through the streets of Jerusalem.
21.1 kilometers, 13 miles, one goal: to not lose control of my bowels.
Misson accomplished.
Rabbi Yehuda haLevi, Called “Judah the Prince” because his knowledge was so reknowned, was kind of a racist.
He believed that Jews were superior to all other peoples.
And the basis for his argument?
While on Mount Sinai, getting the Ten Commandments, Moses went 40 days and 40 nights without food or water.
Has anyone else ever done that?
Nope.
Erego, Jews are the best!
The logic is air-tight.
Truth be told, Jews are superior to other nations because we are prodigious love-makers, blue jean-makers, and we can greenlight a movie faster than anyone else.
So there.
Okay, so while the Rabbi’s reasoning is highly suspect, Moses going nearly 6 weeks with no food or water… that’s impressive.
The lesson here?
… Gandhi was a wuss!
No no no.
Maybe.
The message:
Moses really dedicated himself to God, to the Law and to the Israelites, (and showed how INSANE he was).
In order to succeed at anything in life, you gotta have dedication.
I was coincidentally listening to an interview with Movie Producer Art Linson (Fight Club, Heat, Into the Wild, Fast Times at Ridgemont High)
He said:
The ones who are really gonna survive are the ones who say, ‘I don’t care what you say, I’m doing it.’…. You have to be truly, unafraid to fail.”
“Never trust anybody that didn’t walk the last 35 feet.”
-- Buddy Hackett
I forget who said it, but:
“I’m not one of the all-time greats. I may not even be one of the all-time goods. But I AM one of the all-time survivors”.
.
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