Wednesday, July 02, 2008

10

This is going around. It's what they call a meme.

Consider yourself "tagged" - if you want to.

Ten years ago I was teaching in the same school I'm working in now. At this time of year ten years ago I was packed away in a camp in Pennsylvania, teaching for two months. I didn't have a blog, but I was writing all the time. I had just discovered how to captivate kids with stories. I had just started corresponding with a frum writer and those exchanges were helpful and meaningful. I had just recently performed in the first version ever of A Match Made in Manhattan. At this time exactly, ten years ago, I hope I was probably finishing dinner. But there's a good chance that I was typing.

Ten months ago I was getting ready for the first day of school/work for this year. I had just finished meeting regularly with a chavruta/assistant/student who was helping me with the parsha pieces for what will one day, please G-d (and please me), be a book. I was thinking about the upcoming first day, thinking about the new students and Sefer Shmot and Masechet Sukka. It was a Sunday. I didn't post that day. But I posted the night before (rich with comments, nice to look back at and recall) and the day after (about eating, something I'd been working on watching and thank G-d have maitained for the year, and hope to work on more this summer - also I cherish the memory and the comments). I was excited and ambivalent, looking toward a new building and a new year in the same job in the same institution.

Ten weeks ago was the middle of Chol HaMoed Pesach. I was running minyanim and teaching and listening and counselling and learning and walking and thinking - all in the aptly named New Canaan. I was writing a lot too. I was enjoying the world that reminded me of a Magic Mountain.
I was writing about Pesach and my core readers were there too.


Ten days ago was a Sunday. Finals had just ended. Promotion day was looming. I attended the wedding of a student who graduated six years ago. My ride to the wedding fell through so I subwayed it, reading The World To Come all the way to Avenue U. I was asked (and accepted) to be an eid tana'im. I was happy to be there, happy for my student. I rode home with a former colleague - appreciated the ride and enjoyed the conversation. I saw a dear old friend, the person responsible for making the Chasan frum. I was happy that he got one of the Sheva Brachot together with more famous personalities. I was glad he was there, happy that the parents seemed no longer angry that their son became frum. That night I posted this.

Ten hours ago I was in this same library I sit in now. I was talking to my librarian and friend (one person) about The World To Come. He was most interested in the overachieving family that the author seems to hail from. The conversation went round and rounf - to Lieberman (good for the Jews?) and what a nice guy he is, to whether Chassidic groups compromise their authenticity by expanding and taking others into their sect, to a story about a great man's funeral at YU and a rabbi who felt he was paying his respect by standing outside the building because he wouldn't step foot in YU. Then I met and spoke with a colleague who is taking a class in The Bernard Revel graduate School - and loving it. I was planning for a meeting at work and poking around on line regarding the bus schedule.

Ten minutes ago I re-entered the YU library and sat down to write. I had just walked from the bus station. On the way I stopped in Rite Aid but left my items on the counter and walked out because a woman was having an endless debate with the one cashier about how much her Entenman's cake cost. On the way I stopped at my Chase bank. I had and still have my ipod on shuffle.

Ten seconds ago I checked to see what song is playing on the ipod. It's called Matinee Idol.

In ten seconds I will be writing about what I'll be doing in ten minutes.

In ten minutes I will, please G-d, be davening mincha, followed by a chavruta, some dinner, some returned calls and much more.

In ten hours I hope to be sleeping, please G-d, peacefully.

In ten days it will be Shabbos. I am invited to my friend's beach house. I may go there, or visit Mom and Dad (TSLABW).

In ten weeks school will have resumed. New Gemorah - first time ever for my school. New kids, new responsibilities. The High Holidays will be looming.

In ten years I will be 10 years older than I am now. This boggles my mind. I hope to be alive and healthy, to be receiving and giving love. I hope I won't be sighing, like I just did.

4 Comments:

Blogger Unknown said...

Fascinating. I wish you a peaceful sleep and many more tens of years to enjoy life.

In 10 hours I will be serving an All-American meal (grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, potato salad, gazpacho, flag cake a la Martha Stewart) to some good friends in our back yard, and preparing to watch the amazing fireworks our city puts on a few hundred yards from our house over the beach. Y'all come over!

July 3, 2008 at 8:56 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Interesting meme. Maybe I'll give it a try... later. Writing a report at work now. (Actually, running a scan now, which is why I'm not writing the report. Waiting for the results.)

Why do some places have fireworks the night before July 4 (erev July 4th, so the speak) and other cities have fireworks on July 4?

July 3, 2008 at 10:21 AM  
Blogger rabbi neil fleischmann said...

Thanks Anne for the good wishes. Thanks also to your appreciation for my appreciation on my earlier post based on your thoughts.

Hope the meal went well.

Miriam - Thanks - and good luck with the work. I dont know - I thik it's mainly consumerism/capitalism. Dit it the day before, the day of, whatever.

Random memory - I once mentioned a book about a boy and his seeing eye dog. The boy - Rachmana Litzlan - went blind from a firecracker. And you remembered this book from childhood. (Follow The Leader?)

July 4, 2008 at 1:39 PM  
Blogger kishke said...

I remember Follow the Leader! I liked it, but I was an omnivorous, undiscriminating reader, so that's not saying much. It's linked in my mind with a cop book; I borrowed both from my friend at the same time; can't remember the title of the other, though; when I try to think of it, the needle of my mind hits a scratch, and I'm thinking "Car 51, where are you?" I guess the title was something like that.

Here's a haiku that occurred to me on account of this comment; can't get more self-referential than that.

I'm stuck in a groove
Mind keeps going in circles
Needle hits a scratch

July 4, 2008 at 1:54 PM  

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