It is the yahrzeit of my father in law today. Physically gone, but never forgotten. He lives on in the deeds he did, which guide us even now, and in his words, which are repeated across the generations.
Usher Yaakov ben Yitzchak HaLevi a"h
May his neshomah have an aliyah.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Yom Tov Greetings
I'm in full cooking mode so let me take advantage of a few minutes lull to wish all of you a gutten yom tov. Wherever you are celebrating the chag I hope that there will be enjoyment and happiness.
Chag Kasher V'sameach.
Chag Kasher V'sameach.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Silence in the Midst of Noise
There are those who don't seem to be looking forward to Yom Tov, in particular our observance chutz l'aaretz of that extra day. The latest posting on Bad4 speaks of "enforced conversation," of sitting down to too many meals together. I would refer those people to my posting this week on Making Memories.
But there is another reason why some people find the days of Yom Tov so hard to bear, so interminable, and that is the sudden and complete divorce from the electronic toys which drive our lives on a daily basis. What is really bothering these people, although few will admit it, is the absence of noise. These people suffer plenty over Shabbos; a two-day yom tov seems unbearable.
Watch men on a Shabbos who usually have their cell phones/blackberries/ipods attached to their belts. They are constantly touching where these items should be and aren't. For some it's as if one of the body's appendages had been suddenly amputated. Suddenly people are being forced to do without their links to the virtual world and being forced to communicate the old fashioned way: face to face using their voices unmodulated by electronic devices. No 140 character twitter responses are available. There's no "oops, got to go" on a cell phone when a conversation starts getting out of the general and into specifics people don't want to deal with or face.
Real conversation requires involvement, requires paying attention for longer than a 10-second text message, requires engagement and participation. Real conversation, face-to-face, requires thinking about what is going on. It seems that the more you are involved with your electronic gadgetry on a daily basis, the more you "communicate" electronically, the less you value "enforced," forced or even spontaneous conversation in the real world. Real conversation requires minding your Ps and Qs, adhering to social rules, thinking of others and exercising your vocal cords for longer than a few minutes at a time.
Talking with each other instead of at each other is becoming a lost art for many, and an undesirable occurrence. It may well be why some people also find dating so stressful. Imagine, being "locked" together for two hours with nothing to do but talk directly to each other. How old fashioned, how passe, how backwards.
Me? I welcome the silence of all that gadgetry. No pings and beeps and vibrations trying to rule my living moments. I welcome the family sitting down together, really together, and speaking with each other, not at each other. So yes, I don't mind that extra day of yom tov at all. It confers the blessing of silence of the electronic slave masters. It allows me to thumb my nose at those gadgets that believe that they rule me, not the reverse. And yes, when we say "Avodim Ha'yenu" it takes on an extra meaning--no gadgets at the table (ever see a group of people in a restaurant? At least half of them are texting instead of participating in a conversation with those present) and for these two days we are "free men."
But there is another reason why some people find the days of Yom Tov so hard to bear, so interminable, and that is the sudden and complete divorce from the electronic toys which drive our lives on a daily basis. What is really bothering these people, although few will admit it, is the absence of noise. These people suffer plenty over Shabbos; a two-day yom tov seems unbearable.
Watch men on a Shabbos who usually have their cell phones/blackberries/ipods attached to their belts. They are constantly touching where these items should be and aren't. For some it's as if one of the body's appendages had been suddenly amputated. Suddenly people are being forced to do without their links to the virtual world and being forced to communicate the old fashioned way: face to face using their voices unmodulated by electronic devices. No 140 character twitter responses are available. There's no "oops, got to go" on a cell phone when a conversation starts getting out of the general and into specifics people don't want to deal with or face.
Real conversation requires involvement, requires paying attention for longer than a 10-second text message, requires engagement and participation. Real conversation, face-to-face, requires thinking about what is going on. It seems that the more you are involved with your electronic gadgetry on a daily basis, the more you "communicate" electronically, the less you value "enforced," forced or even spontaneous conversation in the real world. Real conversation requires minding your Ps and Qs, adhering to social rules, thinking of others and exercising your vocal cords for longer than a few minutes at a time.
Talking with each other instead of at each other is becoming a lost art for many, and an undesirable occurrence. It may well be why some people also find dating so stressful. Imagine, being "locked" together for two hours with nothing to do but talk directly to each other. How old fashioned, how passe, how backwards.
Me? I welcome the silence of all that gadgetry. No pings and beeps and vibrations trying to rule my living moments. I welcome the family sitting down together, really together, and speaking with each other, not at each other. So yes, I don't mind that extra day of yom tov at all. It confers the blessing of silence of the electronic slave masters. It allows me to thumb my nose at those gadgets that believe that they rule me, not the reverse. And yes, when we say "Avodim Ha'yenu" it takes on an extra meaning--no gadgets at the table (ever see a group of people in a restaurant? At least half of them are texting instead of participating in a conversation with those present) and for these two days we are "free men."
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Notice of Singles Event
The Young Israel of Staten Island together with YU Connects and the OU will be holding a singles shabbaton in May. It's going to be done a bit differently than other such weekends that have been held recently in other places. For one thing, the price is cheaper--$50 per person, and that covers all Shabbos meals and the program for motzoai Shabbos. For another thing, Shabbos lunch will be held in private homes throughout the community with 6 singles per house, giving the singles a better chance at getting to know each other. I'll post a reminder after Pesach is over, but singles out there might want to make note of the date. If you're interested in applying, go to yisi.org and click on "Singles Shabbaton" in the upper right hand corner.
DATE:MAY 7-8, 2010
LOCATION:
YOUNG ISRAEL OF STATEN ISLAND
835 FOREST HILL RD
STATEN ISLAND, NY 10314
MODERN ORTHODOX MACHMIR
SINGLES FROM ALL COMMUNITIES
AGES: 28-38
COST: $50
Cost includes housing, all Shabbos meals and activities, and
Motzei Shabbos program. Full details will be disclosed as the date
draws closer, but reserve now to insure a spot!
The Shabbaton will be limited to an exclusive group of 100 great
orthodox singles. Once you submit an application, one of us will
call you to get a better idea of who you are.
To place a reservation, please complete the following application.
Please note that your place is not guaranteed until we have spoken
with you.
PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT PAYMENT UNTIL WE HAVE SPOKEN
WITH YOU AND YOUR APPLICATION HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.
For more information, please email SIShabbaton@yahoo.com
We look forward to seeing you there!
DATE:MAY 7-8, 2010
LOCATION:
YOUNG ISRAEL OF STATEN ISLAND
835 FOREST HILL RD
STATEN ISLAND, NY 10314
MODERN ORTHODOX MACHMIR
SINGLES FROM ALL COMMUNITIES
AGES: 28-38
COST: $50
Cost includes housing, all Shabbos meals and activities, and
Motzei Shabbos program. Full details will be disclosed as the date
draws closer, but reserve now to insure a spot!
The Shabbaton will be limited to an exclusive group of 100 great
orthodox singles. Once you submit an application, one of us will
call you to get a better idea of who you are.
To place a reservation, please complete the following application.
Please note that your place is not guaranteed until we have spoken
with you.
PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT PAYMENT UNTIL WE HAVE SPOKEN
WITH YOU AND YOUR APPLICATION HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.
For more information, please email SIShabbaton@yahoo.com
We look forward to seeing you there!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
One Reason for Marrying Tall
There are any number of women who put down "tall" as an attribute they want in their future husband, and they catch a lot of flack for wanting something that others call irrelevant to what makes a good husband. I freely admit that I wanted a tall boy back when I was dating, although I dated a whole lot of guys who weren't. First, at 5"7" I was very conscious of my height--I was always among the tallest women in a room. But my main reason was a very practical one.
Way back when my mom laid claim to being 5'2", although we peg her at being no more than 5' now. It didn't matter how high she was going to climb on a ladder, she was never going to reach the top of the cabinets in the kitchen or the top of the closets, not without standing on tiptoe or climbing up onto the counters. But she had the perfect solution to her problem--my dad was 6'. In a clearly practical division of labor it was my dad's job to reach the high places. No one was going to expect my mom to wrestle the Pesach dishes out of their storage spots or to shlepp things and get them onto the high shelves. (She also made sure that she had tall children to take up the slack should my dad not be around.)
They say you learn from watching your parents. Well, I watched and I learned. I thought it was a perfectly wonderful idea to divide rooms up according to height, the height of the people in them that is. Like my mom before me, I married tall--6'3-1/2" worth--and I also produced the tall children--at 5'7" I'm the shrimp in my house. This has produced some wonderful benefits for me. I don't like balancing on step ladders while at the same time trying to be careful not to drop whatever it is that I need from a high spot in the house. And mostly I no longer ever have to do this. Cleaning jobs that would require me to act like an acrobat on a high wire have been gladly passed on to those with the height to do them more easily than I can.
Now, I'm not saying that girls in the dating parsha necessarily articulate that they want a boy who is tall because he can handle all the upper level cleaning jobs, but it definitely is one reason to have in mind. I'm always thankful for the man I'm married to, but this time of year his height--and yes, his willingness to do what needs to be done--is an undisguised blessing.
Way back when my mom laid claim to being 5'2", although we peg her at being no more than 5' now. It didn't matter how high she was going to climb on a ladder, she was never going to reach the top of the cabinets in the kitchen or the top of the closets, not without standing on tiptoe or climbing up onto the counters. But she had the perfect solution to her problem--my dad was 6'. In a clearly practical division of labor it was my dad's job to reach the high places. No one was going to expect my mom to wrestle the Pesach dishes out of their storage spots or to shlepp things and get them onto the high shelves. (She also made sure that she had tall children to take up the slack should my dad not be around.)
They say you learn from watching your parents. Well, I watched and I learned. I thought it was a perfectly wonderful idea to divide rooms up according to height, the height of the people in them that is. Like my mom before me, I married tall--6'3-1/2" worth--and I also produced the tall children--at 5'7" I'm the shrimp in my house. This has produced some wonderful benefits for me. I don't like balancing on step ladders while at the same time trying to be careful not to drop whatever it is that I need from a high spot in the house. And mostly I no longer ever have to do this. Cleaning jobs that would require me to act like an acrobat on a high wire have been gladly passed on to those with the height to do them more easily than I can.
Now, I'm not saying that girls in the dating parsha necessarily articulate that they want a boy who is tall because he can handle all the upper level cleaning jobs, but it definitely is one reason to have in mind. I'm always thankful for the man I'm married to, but this time of year his height--and yes, his willingness to do what needs to be done--is an undisguised blessing.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Making Memories
Long after the last meal has been served and the last guest has departed, Pesach will still be alive and well--in our memories. Who said what, who did what will be available for instant replay whenever we want.
Obviously there is a religious reason and significance to celebrating Pesach, but there is a secondary purpose as well: making memories. When all is said and done literally what remains is stored not in our cabinets and attics but in our minds. A coming together for Pesach is a chance to strengthen existing bonds and create new ones. It's a time to add to the wealth that is family. And it's a time to reminisce about occurrences of long past times and people no longer with us. It's a time to remind ourselves that we didn't pop into the world all on our own; we come from somewhere, from someone, from lots of someones. It's a time to remember that it's not only genetics that makes us a family but shared experiences and shared memories. Passing an inheritance on to our children shouldn't be only about money but should also be about a sense of connection to those that came before.
For my husband and I only my mother remains living of our parents, and she will be at our seder table. Her presence alone brings joy to all of us. But she brings much more to the table than just herself. She brings with her the stories of how life was "in der heim." She brings with her stories about the great-great-great grandparents and aunts and uncles. She tells the stories of how life was for a little girl growing up then and who the important players were in that life. She is the one who remembers what I was like as a little girl and shares those stories gladly with my children. She is the one I can turn to with "Do you remember when...?" on my lips and know that she does remember. And yes, it pleases her, gratifies her that the minhagim that will be observed in my home, the niggunim that will be used, the dishes that will be served are familiar ones, ones passed down from generation to generation on both sides of the family.
My mom is a very with-it person, valuing new inventions for the help and convenience they bring to us. But she is also a big believer in the study of history, in the knowing of what came before. And this is particularly true when it comes to family. To know the past is to know yourself, to know where you came from and how you got to this point.
The Nazis, may their names be cursed for eternity, ripped asunder the fabric of my mother's life in Europe. They destroyed families and rejoiced in their insane actions. But they missed one point: memories can bring people back to life, can bring practices back into being, can bring us to where we are today.
Our family mesorah is an integral part of who we all are. With Pesach coming I wish for you all the chance to make new memories that will be part of that mesorah while recounting the tales of what once was, connecting the dots of then and now. It's another wonderful opportunity to add to that tapestry being woven about your family.
And yes, I sometimes daydream a bit and wonder what stories my great great grandchildren down the road will tell about my husband and I, about our celebration of Pesach. And I hope that those stories will go all the way back to at least my great grandmother. In our family Baba Gittel stories are legendary and we all know and can recount them. I will have done what I believe is my job if some future einekal can start a story "The Baba Gittel haht gezokt"--the Baba Gittel said. So go ahead, make all those preparations for Pesach, but don't forget the only thing that will last long after the table has been cleared--make memories.
Obviously there is a religious reason and significance to celebrating Pesach, but there is a secondary purpose as well: making memories. When all is said and done literally what remains is stored not in our cabinets and attics but in our minds. A coming together for Pesach is a chance to strengthen existing bonds and create new ones. It's a time to add to the wealth that is family. And it's a time to reminisce about occurrences of long past times and people no longer with us. It's a time to remind ourselves that we didn't pop into the world all on our own; we come from somewhere, from someone, from lots of someones. It's a time to remember that it's not only genetics that makes us a family but shared experiences and shared memories. Passing an inheritance on to our children shouldn't be only about money but should also be about a sense of connection to those that came before.
For my husband and I only my mother remains living of our parents, and she will be at our seder table. Her presence alone brings joy to all of us. But she brings much more to the table than just herself. She brings with her the stories of how life was "in der heim." She brings with her stories about the great-great-great grandparents and aunts and uncles. She tells the stories of how life was for a little girl growing up then and who the important players were in that life. She is the one who remembers what I was like as a little girl and shares those stories gladly with my children. She is the one I can turn to with "Do you remember when...?" on my lips and know that she does remember. And yes, it pleases her, gratifies her that the minhagim that will be observed in my home, the niggunim that will be used, the dishes that will be served are familiar ones, ones passed down from generation to generation on both sides of the family.
My mom is a very with-it person, valuing new inventions for the help and convenience they bring to us. But she is also a big believer in the study of history, in the knowing of what came before. And this is particularly true when it comes to family. To know the past is to know yourself, to know where you came from and how you got to this point.
The Nazis, may their names be cursed for eternity, ripped asunder the fabric of my mother's life in Europe. They destroyed families and rejoiced in their insane actions. But they missed one point: memories can bring people back to life, can bring practices back into being, can bring us to where we are today.
Our family mesorah is an integral part of who we all are. With Pesach coming I wish for you all the chance to make new memories that will be part of that mesorah while recounting the tales of what once was, connecting the dots of then and now. It's another wonderful opportunity to add to that tapestry being woven about your family.
And yes, I sometimes daydream a bit and wonder what stories my great great grandchildren down the road will tell about my husband and I, about our celebration of Pesach. And I hope that those stories will go all the way back to at least my great grandmother. In our family Baba Gittel stories are legendary and we all know and can recount them. I will have done what I believe is my job if some future einekal can start a story "The Baba Gittel haht gezokt"--the Baba Gittel said. So go ahead, make all those preparations for Pesach, but don't forget the only thing that will last long after the table has been cleared--make memories.
Monday, March 22, 2010
The Purpose of Kvetching
Human beings kvetch--it's part of our nature. But we seem to have annointed one period in our calendar where kvetching is not only acceptable but seems to be required. We are in that period now, the time between Purim and Pesach. If a subject is suitable to be kvetched about at other times, it is doubly suitable during this time period. Not sure what I mean by kvetching? See the following.
Schools/yeshivas: "What do you mean they are having a day off?! Don't they know we're busy making Pesach?!"--"What do you mean the teacher assigned a project that is due next week?! Doesn't he/she know that Pesach is coming?!"
Current Events/Politics: "This had to happen now?! They couldn't wait to give the bad news until after Pesach?!"--
Cleaning: "Just what crazy man invented the laws of what has to be cleaned for Pesach?! Did he hate women that much?!"--"There is no way that chometz got put up on that shelf in the closet! (pause) How did chometz get put up on that shelf in the closet?!"--(Upon reading the labels on cleaning products, both ingredients and warnings) "What crazy person allows this company to sell a product that can maim or kill people?!"--"We can't possibly own this much stuff!"
Economics: "They are charging WHAT for fresh fish?!"--"Who do they think I am?! Rothschild?! Where do they get the chutzpah to ask these prices?!"
Family: "Just who do they think I am?! The maid?!"--"I know I raised them to put away their things!"--"Sure my husband is going to have to work late every night this week!"--"My children need me to do what right now?!"
You get the picture. Frankly, I'm a great believer that kvetching is important for mental health. Those who kvetch are far less likely to indulge in mayhem and violence. Kvetching gives us an outlet for our frustrations. And if kvetching should also result in volunteer hands to make things easier? Well, wouldn't that be wonderful.
Schools/yeshivas: "What do you mean they are having a day off?! Don't they know we're busy making Pesach?!"--"What do you mean the teacher assigned a project that is due next week?! Doesn't he/she know that Pesach is coming?!"
Current Events/Politics: "This had to happen now?! They couldn't wait to give the bad news until after Pesach?!"--
Cleaning: "Just what crazy man invented the laws of what has to be cleaned for Pesach?! Did he hate women that much?!"--"There is no way that chometz got put up on that shelf in the closet! (pause) How did chometz get put up on that shelf in the closet?!"--(Upon reading the labels on cleaning products, both ingredients and warnings) "What crazy person allows this company to sell a product that can maim or kill people?!"--"We can't possibly own this much stuff!"
Economics: "They are charging WHAT for fresh fish?!"--"Who do they think I am?! Rothschild?! Where do they get the chutzpah to ask these prices?!"
Family: "Just who do they think I am?! The maid?!"--"I know I raised them to put away their things!"--"Sure my husband is going to have to work late every night this week!"--"My children need me to do what right now?!"
You get the picture. Frankly, I'm a great believer that kvetching is important for mental health. Those who kvetch are far less likely to indulge in mayhem and violence. Kvetching gives us an outlet for our frustrations. And if kvetching should also result in volunteer hands to make things easier? Well, wouldn't that be wonderful.
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