Something I Cannot Recall

Here's one of the guests at the place I worked at for Pesach (where I still am, sitting, exhaling) . Her name is Barbara and she's been here all nine years that I have. Seconds after I took this she received a call from Israel on the camp line. Soon she came back and told me that her niece Yaffa, who I know, is engaged. And I said, and meant, Mazal Tov!

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Pesach is gone - "Why she had to go I don't know - she would not say..."

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My talk on poetry went over well so I made it a two parter. I've fascilitated three sessions of situational dilemmas taken from You Be The Judge. People really shined in those discussions. Speaking of shinhing, the talent show - which I emceed tonight - went well. Two people that were in my improv workshop did a scene and it went well. There were 14 acts and it was all put together in the minutes and after Yom Tov.

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I once heard a son say when his father was being honored, that he was happy to see that what his father always told him had come true for his father. His father always told him that if you do the right thing, without looking for recognition, in the end the recognition will come. This resonated for me when I heard it, sitting next to my dad, who had said this to me implicitly throughout my life so far. And I referred to this and said it when my father was recently honored:

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Do you think it's true that recognition of goodness eventually comes? Always? Sometimes? Never? Does it matter if the recognition comes? Should it matter? Is it best that what we do be just between us and G-d and whomever may be a recipient of our deed? Is this possible? The Zohar says that if you do a mitzvah and you tell someone, you lose the mitzvah. What does this mean to you?

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On a different note: Over the holiday I learned of one decided divorce and one broken engagement. Do you ever hesitate to ask someone about their other half? So many relationships seem to be tenuous and if you lose track things may have broken without your knowing. So I'm afraid to ask. Anyone have anything to say about that?

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I recently came across a Billy Collins poem about a dog writing his master from the afterlife. Take a look. What do you think?

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More from Richard Wright:

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Holding too much rain,

The tulip stoops and spills it,.

Then straightens again.

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Leaving the doctor,

The whole world looks different.

this autumn morning.

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A spring sky so clear

That you feel you are seeing

Into tomorrow.

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A balmy spring wind

Reminding me of something

I cannot recall.

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A valley village

Lies in the grip of moonlight:

How lonely it is.

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Settling on the screen

Of the crowded movie house,

A white butterfly.