Post Shloshim, Post Vacation Post: On The Road Again

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"If you want something done ask a busy man." I took the time to google that aphorism and didn't succeed in finding an attribution. I guess I didn't search hard enough (yaga'ati velo matza'ati al ta'amin). It comes to mind during this winter break.

I wonder a lot about davening and like to talk with kindred spirits about it. I am reminded of this renewal poet's words and my angry reaction. There is something to the power of the words. There is also something to understanding what you're saying before G-d. This question comes to me often around Kaddish. The mourner's Kaddish is a prayer one might expect would be treated with reverence and recited with emotional intent.

Sigh.

A few posts ago I cited Rabbi Abraham Twerski via Rabbi Josh Hoffman about how the monn represented the imperative of taking life one day at a time. He says a similar idea in relation to the Omer, that we build up to kaballat haTorah one day at a time. He also explains brilliantly that when Yaakov worked toward marrying Racheil it does not say, as most people think it does, that it was like a short period of time for him. It was many years of work till he could marry someone he loved. It's hard to imagine what it felt like for Ya'akov, but it may have felt like forever. His secret weapon was that in his eyes it was "keyamim achadim," he took each day on its own.

A dear talmid of mine pointed out to me that Rav Nachman MiBreslov has a beautiful take on the one day at a time motif. Dovid Hamelech says in Tehillim 95 that we must listen to G-d today - "HaYom im bekolo tishma'u." He says that this means that we are advised to consider just one day at a time. This makes things more manageable and and also can temper procrastination.

Rashi tells the story of Yirmiyahu displaying the jar filled with monn that Moshe had prepared years before. Yirmiyahu tells the people who complain that they can't devote themselves to Torah because they must earn a living; "Harbei shluchim yeish lamakom lehavi mazon leyerei'av." I remember being 22 like it was a second ago, visiting relatives in an Israeli city on the sea. In my learning I came upon that pasuk and the Rashi and repeated it over and over to myself until I knew it by heart. I remember it to this day.

Rav Chaim Schmuelewitz writes that the theme of the mannah is bitachon, trust in G-d. He says that this is evident from the fact that people had to trust that they would have enough. He compares this to the similar situation of Shmitah, when as the sixth year approaches Jews must trust that G-d will keep His promise that enough crop will be provided to last three years.

On the one hand the people of the desert displayed great trust in G-d through the routine of the monn. On the other hand they worried and complained and doubted G-d turn after turn. As isolated as the desert seems to be this dichotomy rings of real life to me.

Some hopefully helpful links: Do you want to find out the earliest time for minchah, or any thing else related to zmanim? Then go here. You happen to be at the YU sefarim sale and want to know minyan times? Go to YUzmanim.com. Looking for minchah in New York City? The O-U's got a post for you here. Learning Gemorah and have a question? Try dafyomi.co.il, you'll be amazed what they have to offer.

During shloshim I started writing this: One of my friends who called a week after shivah asked the FAQ, how are you doing?

"You remember how you told me once that you wouldn't have gotten through your first year of marriage if not for the support of (older divorce' X and young married Y)?

"How do you remember that?"

"Well, I'm sure there were a lot of people there for you during the week of sheva brachot and for a month or so following that. But then you just had those two life lines..."

Tomorrow is a jump back from yeshiva break to holy work. These shifts are hard for me, probably not only for me. Rav Kook (as explained by Rabbi Nachum Romm) says that when we go from one atmosphere into another it is a turbulent time for our souls, thus we pray for extra siyatah dishmayah.

Good night and G-d bless

And good G-d please bless tonight

Good night and G-d bless.

I Agree, His Work Meant A Lot To Me

GLOBE EDITORIAL J.D. Salinger: It’s the words that matter January 30, 2010 Our celebrity culture is ill-equipped to comprehend a literary figure like J. D. Salinger, who died Wednesday at 91. A Martian reading the author’s obituaries might conclude he was eminent for being a recluse, for not publishing since 1965, for suing anyone who tried to make unauthorized use of his fiction or his letters, and for dabbling in weird beliefs. But as W. H. Auden wrote in his elegy on the death of William Butler Yeats: “You were silly like us; your gift survived it all.’’ Salinger’s work will last because of his gift and his craftsmanship. “Catcher in the Rye’’ is still read not simply because it appears to indulge the youthful narcissism of high school students. Like Huckleberry Finn, Holden Caulfield speaks directly to the reader, telling his story in his own pitch-perfect idiom, creating a pure fictional artifice. The perfection of that artifice is the reason for readers who never met him to wish a fond farewell to Salinger. He did what serious writers do: he left behind a world apart from this one, confected out of words alone. And his confidants say he also left behind 15 unpublished manuscripts. His gift survives.

Was Thomas Wolfe Right?

I have a ride from Queens to The Heights in five minutes. Home is home. Mom is gone (HKP). It was nice spending Shabbos with dad (HSLABW). This is the sixth Shabbos without mom in the world. Five of those six I've spent with family. Mom is here in different way. Still not used to that. The rabbis say that it takes 12 months for a person to be forgotten from the heart. They will never be forgotten, but the deep hole in the heart, to some extent, heals after a year. I'm just guessing here.

Yesterday I had the honor of reading aloud what I think must be the longest Haftorah. It's the aliyah that an aveil is supposed to get. So I got it. But I don't get it. Over Shabbos I looked at a picture of me from the early nineties. I seemed to have more answers then. I miss that. And yet. There's so much I miss. Can I go home again?

Four Links One Time

David Wolpe wrote that leil shmurim is used twice in the same pasuk (Shmot 12:42). Homiletically he wonders and explains that G-d was watching the people and the people were watching their children. He thought of this at his daughter's Bat Mitzvah. His wife said that when she looks in her daughter's eyes she sees her at every stage of her life. He feels that if G-d watches all of us and parents watch their children then in looking at their children time as transcended as it is like looking at G-d.

This reminds me of what Barry Lichtenberg wrote four and a half years ago, that time is like a braided challah. Rather than being linear as we imagine it, the braids of time seem to disappear, but exist concurrently. Somewhere right now my parents are courting, Irving Bunim is holding court on Pirkei Avot, Aaron Bulman is saying, "Take it slow," and Scott Gordon is buying a fake arrow through the head for me at a Steve Martin - in his prime - concert.

At Shaloshudos today someone (A) mentioned that he's received several comments and emails from the same person (B) about how great A was at various things. A decided that these comments may actually be more the result of B's nature than a reflection of his (A's) own actual talents. This prompted me to share the saying that "What Peter says about Paul tells you more about Peter than it does about Paul." The man sitting next to me liked this and told me it reminded him of a book he read about listening. The book cited Aristotle saying that "When you speak I see you" - not hear but see. There was also a quote about how all we say leaves behind a telling trail. He said the book was called The Third Ear. I think it's this one, though there are several.

A dear relative has found my five year old public blog. That reminded me of a poem I wrote on the way to visiting her for Shabbos. I watched but failed to see an old man. Mirty saw him clearly, G-d like. In a mystical way that some scientists have embraced I'm riding that sheirut now, I'm writing this poem, and Miriam is minting the other side of the coin (as a medrash which I discovered today says that Mordechai minted a coin that displayed sackcloth and ash on one side and a crown of gold on the other).

I confess that it is not 11:59. My clock and yawn relay that the hour is later. It is time to send my soul to the shop where I'll have to pick it up soon after sunrise.
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Good night and G-d bless

Wherever you are in time

Good night and G-d Bless

Shabbat Shalom...

and may the holiness and peace spill over into every day,.

Beshalach: Netvort By Rabbi Josh Hoffman - Excerpt

Rabbi Abraham Twerski writes, in his book, A Formula for Proper Living (Jewish Lights, September 9, 2009), that the manna, which came each day for that day alone, taught the people to take each day as a separate, independent unit. The Ramban says that the people began to complain about their lack of food after they had been traveling for a considerable amount of time and did not see any indication that they were reaching their final destiny. They therefore thought that they may die there. The manna, which came in discrete units of one day's supply at a time, indicated to them that the proper approach to their journey was to take each day as it came, and not worry about what would happen the next day.

Rabbi Twerski points out that this idea was used by Bill Wilson, who founded Alcoholics Anonymous in 1935, in treating recovering alcoholics. He said that if you tell an alcoholic that he can never drink again he will not be able to manage it. However, if you tell him that tomorrow is not in our control, and he should only concentrate on today and make sure that he doesn't drink any alcoholic beverages in the course of that discrete unit of time, he has a chance.

Through this approach, along with the rest of the techniques used in the twelve-step program, thousands of people have been able to control their addictions over the past 75 years. This idea, however, says Rabbi Twerski, finds its origins in the way that the manna was supplied to the people in the wilderness, one day at a time.

This Is The Clock Upon The Wall

The Clock Up On The Wall In My Childhood Home

Pictures Of You

By The Last Goodnight

This is the clock upon the wall
This is the story of us all
This is the first sound of a newborn child,
Before he starts to crawl
This is the war that’s never won
This is a soldier and his gun
This is the mother waiting by the phone,
Praying for her son

Pictures of you, pictures of me
Hung upon your wall for the world to see
Pictures of you, pictures of me
Remind us all of what we used to be

There is a drug that cures it all
Blocked by the governmental wall
We are the scientists inside the lab,
Just waiting for the call
This earthquake weather has got me shaking inside
I'm high up and dry

Pictures of you, pictures of me
Hung upon your wall for the world to see
Pictures of you, pictures of me
Remind us all of what we used to be

Confess to me, every secret moment
Every stolen promise you believed
Confess to me, all that lies between us
All that lies between you and me

We are the boxers in the ring
We are the bells that never sing
There is a title we can't win no matter
How hard we might swing

Pictures of you, pictures of me
Hung upon your wall for the world to see
Pictures of you, pictures of me
Remind us all of what we used to be

Pictures of you, pictures of me
Hung upon your wall for the world to see
Pictures of you, pictures of me
Remind us all of what we could have been

Thanks to Brad for alerting me to this song/link

The Baby Calls You to Its Crib

Pain is pain, it's ageless

And loneliness has no face

We all cry from different cages

And the crying does not stop

Until we are touched

My mom (HKM) was one of the biggest supporters of my writing a poetry book. She told me more than once to print them all out, put them on the floor and map out the order for the work. She'd regularly ask if it was coming, when it was coming, if I was doing it. Many of my poems, my babies, have never been shared here. I hope I get the inner and outer, physical and emotional support and gumption to publish the book, and share my poetic sentiments with a wider audience soon.

Written 18 Years Ago After A Talk With Mom

We don't feel the age ascribed us

Not in our dreams, not in our dreams

The child inside never dies

You couldn't kill him if you tried

Mom, Of Blessed Memory, Hareini Kaparat Mishkavah

Here's my mother at 21, on her wedding day, wearing a gown loaned to her by her dear friend and colleague Lillian Bartell. I found out that it was Lillian's dress shortly after shiva, when we spoke on the phone. They started their first teaching assignment together in The South Bronx shortly after people started saying The South Bronx in that way. They stayed in touch for the rest of their lives, or more precisely till a week before my mother suddenly passed away.

It's a beautiful dress, isn't it? And more importantly, my mother is, was, will be, beautiful. My mother told me that people said she looked like Ingrid Bergman. During shiva we passed the picture back and forth. Some people saw Grace Kelly. One friend told me during her shiva visit that before the funeral some older women behind her were talking. One told another, "You remember when Phyllis Fleischmann moved in and we all said she was the prettiest woman in Bayside."

Excuse the glare on the right of the picture. This is a a digital picture of the original photograph, in its 52 year old pane. It sat in private on my mother's dresser. That's where it sits again. After shiva I took one shot of the picture and that's what you see here.

Wed, Dec 30, 2009 at 8:51 AM

Still wondering what happened

to take your mother so unexpectedly. :-(

The above email was sent to me on what was the third real day of shiva. Due to one of halacha's magic loopholes it counted as day four. I have yet to answer that question.

I can't save messages on my machine forever, but I can try. For a month and a day message number one remains the same. It starts with the baritone electronic voice saying loudly and clearly, "Friday, 7:18 A.M." Then comes the message, "Neil, your mother's not feeling well. Take a cab and come out here as soon as possible."

It was Christmas day (when I was 35 I was embarrassed into finally remembering the date). I was off for the day. The phone woke me from the other room. I could tell from my father's tone that it was serious and the wisest thing to do was to listen. I got out of my home and over to his in about twenty minutes. On the way out I knocked over a picture and broke the glass frame, a harbinger of breakage, loss.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Seasons They Go Round And Round

Autumn in Central Park, By Eric Drooker

Not The Piece

Today, my chavrutah wondered aloud why I went the way I did at the end of yesterday's poem about Scott Gordon. He said it must have been because I was sad, but that he half thought I'd go the other way. I could just has well have said that he lives on in me.

I've been saying that a lot about mom. There's a lot of her in me. I guess there are many reasons why I'm more apt to say that my mom lives on inside me but that with the death of my friend a piece of me died.

I zoned out at the end of minchah today. There was another Chiyuv davening and I was mevater. But I didn't mean to be mevater on saying the kaddish, just on davening from the amud. I zoned out. I don't like admitting that my mother has died, just not thrilled with the idea. I mean sometimes I zone out anyway, which I also don't like admitting, but here there's reason for the distraction. Kuebler Ross would say it's denial, the first stage of grief. Others would say that stage should be over by now. Others would say there are no stages, only individual people living unique lives (see Wikipedia on these stages). Others would say nothing and just be (see haiku with space in it, below).

Right before minchah a chashuv Rav offered me consolation in a human way. He tipped me off that someone else would be leading. Afterward I was in a funk about having missed the kaddish. Another Rav came over to me and told me he just heard. All I could think was - how'd I just miss saying the kaddish. I'm not proud to say that it's happened before. I am proud of being human and sharing my humanity here and having learned from experience that putting myself out here is meaningful enough to others that it's worth it.

I went to another minyan afterwards just to say the Kaddish at the end. After, a different chashuv Rav came over to me and asked me how I'm enjoying my vacation. That brings you pretty much up to date. How was your day?

I'm working on The Piece. The magnum opus post to sum all of this up. It will not come.

30/30

"How do you sum up a life?" That was the question with which - years ago - Rabbi Jay/Yaakov Marcus opened his hesped for my sister-in-law's father. The question struck me when he first belted it out and has stayed with me. I've been thinking about life summation more than usual this past month.
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I had a long day. I attended the funeral of a dear childhood friend. I wrote the following on my way to Wellwood Cemetery.
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In Memory of Scott Gordon

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Does anyone ever have friends

Like the friends of their teenage youth?

I know I don't

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In each breath of mine

In every laugh and mannerism

There is something of Scott

v

And now his breath has stopped

His mannerisms have disappeared

Scott is gone, there is less of me

;

-------------------------------------

-------------------------------------

p

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A season has been lost

An element disappeared

A force of nature undone

Mom is gone

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Today was the thirtieth day since my mother was buried. More often than not it seems to me that it rains at burials. Once again my shoes were caked in mud. Today, unlike a month ago, I was able - as I passed through Penn Station on the way home - to have them cleaned up real good.

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Over the last month I've thought and written a lot about mom. Much of it I deemed too sad to blog. Sometimes, I thought, "Maybe for shloshim (when I post The Piece)." Here are some haiku I wrote over the last month.

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Minutes are drawn from

my life as I write these words

hanging by a thread

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MOM

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You weren't supposed

to let go of the base line

and lose tug of war
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Syag LeChachmah Shtikah

kg
"Sorry for your loss"

"There anything I can do?"

.g
"Quiet. Be with me."

giu
It's the Livyason's Turn

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Till my mother died

I thought she would never die

That's how she played it

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Ein me'arvin simchah besimchah. But what about lehefech? I find myself distracted from mom's sudden death by Scott's sudden death. Today, the day of Scott's funeral was mom's shloshim...

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TO BE CONTINUED...

Noorvik's Distinction

I just heard about this on the radio and thought I'd post it as a matter of interest, and a break from grief related posts. Click here for the today's press release from the U.S. Census Bureau, and see first comments for an article on the topic.

In Memory of Scott Gordon

My dear childhood friend Scott Gordon passed away suddenly. Baruch Dayan Emet. Just today in learning with a chavrutah I referred to Scott. Just two weeks ago in a parsha piece I wrote about Scott. Closeness never goes away.

Once again I am struck with a dear one whose last words were an expression of the inability to breathe. Scott didn't make it to a hospital. Sigh.

For now the story rests between the lines. Please G-d one day I will write more about Scott.

As fate would have it, my dad, he should live and be well, lost his dear dear friend today. Oy. May he find comfort.

When I was in high school Scott was injured badly. My father drove me to the hospital and told me he'd wait in the car for as long as I wanted to visit. He said that close friendships are not be taken lightly and he backed up his words with action. Like many things, that is something I hope and pray I'll never forget.

I Thank You Each

Hi Rabbi Neil,

I've been meaning to send you a note for some time now. I was so very sorry to hear about your mother. I never met her, but knowing you, I know she must have been so very special. Although I wish there were, I realize that there is not a thing that I can say to make it any easier. It makes it awkward to say anything at all. I just wanted you to know that you have friends who are thinking of you and wishing you well.

Take Care,
X

It's a few minutes to minchah. Tomorrow is the end of shloshim. The email above - which felt beautiful, and emblematic, and safe for posting - came in a few minutes ago.

A great amount of caring has been coming in for a month now. I am so grateful. There are no words.

Sigh

8:02 AM - "Modeh ani lefanechah..." Breath is not to be taken lightly. My mother's last spoken words were, "I can't breathe."

Toward Healing Haiti

I find that often journalists write about places in the world in dire situations and start in the middle. I found this op-ed piece very helpful because it provided context. I would not have thought that this issue of starting in the middle applied to the tragic natural disaster that recently befell Haiti. This article (attached here as the first four comments) from yesterday's Times was helpful in that it taught me some background about Haiti. I feel that I previously knew practically nothing and now know something of the history of Haiti. As in any presentation of history the facts may be slightly slanted and the author may have an agenda, yet it sounds truthful and sincere to me. Thank you Mark Danner.

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Who Was She?

By Neil Fleischmann

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She was "happy to see you"

I was "dahling"

She never heard

I always repeated

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At 90 she followed Nathan

Leaving grandchildren, memories,

and me

Does everyone have an Aunt Clara

To whom they could not relate

But can not forget?

Prelude To An Interview: 1549 + 1

It's been a year. I posted something I heard in an interview with a survivor of Flight 1549. We exchanged emails back and forth. I had hoped to put up an interview with Steve in sync with the anniversary. Then life, in the form of death, changed my plans.

I hope to post a blog interview soon-ish. Meanwhile Steve and I have been in touch. With his permission here's a snippet of recent correspondence:

I was reminded in the last year how we have miracles around us, I thought it very fitting in a message to your parents that you refer to their kids as miracles. Grades are important but the fact that they have their children in their life is an everyday living miracle most don't take time to appreciate.

If you dropped someone on earth who had never experienced the daily things we see: sunsets, change in seasons, flowers, night to dark, they may interpret these as miracles. The earth is so beautiful, I can not describe how beautiful everything looked when the door to Flight 1549 popped open after we came down in the river, it was the most blue sky and brilliant sunshine. I still feel that way.

Steve O'Brien

Yadechah - Yad Keihah

Yesterday many people learned the word tefillin.

This weeks parsha speaks of tefillin and finds G-d commanding us to put them on our hand. The way it writes the word for "your hand" is unusual and can be read to mean "your weak hand." Rav Moshe Feinstein (Darash Moshe, English - Volume 1, page 110) explains, "Symbolically, the Torah demands that we perform even the more difficult mitzvot, symbolized by the left hand, with the same facility as if we were doing them with the right hand."

The Things

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by Donald Hall
in The New Yorker
January 4, 2010

When I walk in my house I see pictures,
bought long ago, framed and hanging
—de Kooning, Arp, Laurencin, Henry Moore
—that I’ve cherished and stared at for years,
yet my eyes keep returning to the masters
of the trivial: a white stone perfectly round,
tiny lead models of baseball players, a cowbell,
a broken great-grandmother’s rocker,
a dead dog’s toy—valueless, unforgettable
detritus that my children will throw away
as I did my mother’s souvenirs of trips
with my dead father, Kodaks of kittens,
and bundles of cards from her mother Kate.

QOTD

We've gone from being a water cooler nation to being a water bottle nation. - David Carr

Breaking News: Dangerous Device on Plane

I just heard this on CBS radio. A plane was grounded and treated with the greatest security attention possible. A seventeen year old male was spotted with an unusual device strapped on to him. Passengers told crew, crew told pilot, air traffic control was notified. They were met at the airport by dogs and cops and every other precaution you can imagine. In the end the device was determined to be something named tefillin, a religious ritual object that the young man was wearing while he prayed.

Here's how Fox reported it:

Plane Quarantined After Being Diverted to Philadelphia

A flight was diverted to Philadelphia from LaGuardia Airport after a passenger was reportedly mistaken for having a bomb. The U.S. Air flight from LaGuardia to Louisville was diverted after a man allegedly strapped on a "tefillin," a device mistaken as an "explosive device," CBS 3 reports. A tefillin has two small black boxes with straps. One box is placed on the head and the other is tied to the arm. A law enforcement official says the man questioned is not a threat.
The plane was quarantined in Philadelphia after a number of firetrucks and police officers met them on the tarmac. Passengers were all safely taken off the USAir flight, run by Chautequa Air.
The airport is reportedly staying open and flights are not affected.

Hillel's Paradox

At 16 I got into Ethics From Sinai, by Irving Bunim. I bought it at Gift World and got a discount because I took the display. It had been in the window for a long time and the cover was faded from the sunlight. Experiences surrounding this book are rushing through me (reading it in my grandparents' bedroom, lending it to a cute girl in my class, asking Rav Margolis about something I read in it and my Rebbe disagreeing...) but I have to focus. All I wanted to do right now was to cite a passage from the book that I recall striking me when I first read it. I don't recall why this comment on "Eem ein ani lee mee lee?" popped into my head or what I wanted to say about it.

"The most loving wife cannot share my pain,

experience my anxieties, or suffer my death."

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- Irving Bunim, Ethics From Sinai page 91, Feldheim, 1964

A Song of Thanks

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By Yael Palgon
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Praise it be
The Creator of it all
The One who lets there be a sun
Let it be known to all
His infinite glory

Praise it be the way
The sun seeps inside of me
Gently kissing my face
I gaze upon her red golden sunset
On a hot summer’s afternoon

Praise it be the way
The air smells
When the flowers bloom
Tickling all my senses
Making me drunk with glee
On a sunny spring morning

Praise it be the way
The wind whispers
Lolling me to sleep
I find my inner peace
On a winter’s night

Praise it be the way
The trees look
As their coats change colors
Opening their arms
To welcome the new year
On a breezy fall day

Praise it be
The Creator of it all
That there are seasons
A rhythm to it all
Let it be known to all
His infinite glory

A Light Exists In Spring

I recently signed up with a site that sends me a poem a day, free yet priceless. In one way it's a bit early for this one; from another angle it's right on time. This analysis focuses on an unexpected religious message conveyed by Dickinson here (other, similar explanations abound). To me a wow.

A light exists in spring

Not present on the year

At any other period.

When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad

On solitary hills

That science cannot overtake,

But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;

It shows the furthest tree

Upon the furthest slope we know;

It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,

Or noons report away,

Without the formula of sound,

It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss

Affecting our content,

As trade had suddenly encroached

Upon a sacrament.

~

Emily Dickinson

24

6:42 AM - There are writers in this world and I am one of them. I am not now using the word in reference to a vocation or a claim to fame but as an adjective, an inclination. I'm a writer type. I wake up and want to write, and so I just did.

7:40 AM - As I type kids complain and contrive over homework, the first pre-davening bell rings. It's time to go take attendance and pray.

8:40 AM - I have those first throat scratches of a cold. Just led davening in school for what will be final time of Shloshim. The pre-class bell just rang, five minutes...

1:42 PM - Taught five classes. Alana gave a speech about right and left side of the brain. My ratio based on the test she used was 6:1 right side. Yep. Another student spoke about a rare illness which causes him to have to wear a chest brace. He's so well adjusted, it was a surprise.

Have another class in about five minutes. Prepping and breathing.

2:32 PM - Just had my Gemorah class for the second period today. First period we did Mishnah and this time we did pre-vacation related discussion and parshah. Now I'm waiting for two students, one who wants help with something he's writing and another who wants to discuss Judaism and life's meaning.

Robert Klein had a routine about a life insurance commercial in which thy paint a scene of family life and then a deep voiced announcer breaks the peace and practically shouts, "Suddenly you're not there." And then they put a Hollywood Squares style giant X over your body in the picture. He played it for laughs, but that's what it is. Someone's there, and then suddenly they're not. They're not there either to visit or call or to not visit or not call. They're not there.

3:54 PM - Led minchah for the last time in school during Shloshim. Am getting a ride at the end of the day to the ShopRite bus stop from a dear colleague (Anthony Debartolo) who for years has driven the opposite direction for me out of kindness.

6:10 PM - Just got home. Stopped in ShopRite and got brown rice sushi, ate it on the bus.

6:38 PM - Spent a little time in the hall with neighbors old and new.

On Chanukah we ate out as a family at my mom's (HKM) favorite restaurant, Chosen Gardens in Forest Hills. My mom was self conscious about pictures and wary of cameras. On that night she was very excited about new shoes which were special for Diabetes (r"l) and were actually comfortable. Since she kept singing their praises I asked if I could take a picture of the shoes. Mom posed her feet playfully a few different ways and allowed me to capture the shoes on film. I'm glad they brought her pleasure. This picture of mom in her new shoes is the last picture taken of her.

7:15 PM - One of these days I need to buy a big and tall pot; until then I'll make two batches at a time. A dear friend of mine just lost his mother. I hope to visit soon and bring some chicken soup. I also have the ticklish beginnings of a cold and am a big believer in the medicinal power of chicken soup. So the soup is filling the house with fragrance. There's something hopeful about chicken soup.

7:32 PM - Is it called being in the moment if at the moment you choose to revisit the past? How far back is the past? Is earlier today gone or still part of now? Are years ago part of now?

Earlier today I was on my way to class. The students actually wanted me to be on time. It was the last day of the one semester public speaking class. One super student brought food for everyone in honor of the occasions and many students brought their fourth and final presentation.

I was about to enter the elevator when a kind colleague asked with true compassion, "How are you doing?" I appreciated the question and it didn't seem right to say anything remotely resembling, "How am I doing? How about rushing, as usual?" We chatted a bit about me and my matzav and her and her upcoming vacation trip. And then Israel schools came up (I think I brought it up) and I had to speak my mind. Long story short, my colleague's parting words to me spoken sincerely and without sarcasm were, "One day you'll open the Israel school that's built on midot." Sigh and a half.

8:53 PM - "I'm cutting you off," he said to himself. And with that he stopped blogging for the night.

Good night and G-d bless

I wonder what you're thinking

I can't help confess

23/30

6:48 PM - Just got home from work. Caught the 5:10 bus. All day blog posts float through my head, now I sit here sighing, wondering. Wondering. Wondering.

No thirty day period in our lives will ever be replicated and yet The Shloshim stand alone. I've been thinking a lot about my nails. I can't imagine that they're supposed to be a major focus of this mourning period. And yet. I've spoken to several colleagues/rabbis and looked in quite a few of the books on this mourning period (including The Book by Rabbi Maurice Lamm) and they all say that you can't cut your nails for these thirty days. They each go on to say that you are permitted to bite or pick your nails instead of cutting them properly. And then they add that you can start the rip with a tiny bit of a cut from a scissors or clipper. So this Friday that's what I did, after three weeks of not having cut my finger nails I did an ad hoc job of crookedly paring them down.

7:31 - Ate sushi, read emails, settled in, as my neighbors sang Happy Birthday and celebrated their daughter's second birthday. They're having cupcakes. If you lived here you'd know too.

I found the ad for a gig I had to cancel. You can find it here. At parent-teacher meetings yesterday several West Orange people said that they had missed me the night before. It took me a second to remember what they went. The night after the levayah I emailed Rabbi Spivak and told him that he'd have to be in touch with Richie Gold and Stu Trivax himself to finish with the final touches. My recommendation was to go on with just those two. The reviews I heard were raves. Richie is available on Facebook and you can see for yourself what high quality he is. Stu is a force of nature, one of the best comedians I've ever seen. That's the feedback I heard too. He is uniquely talented at bantering with the audience and fully committing to character. He is fearless and amazing. Why shuls so often get it wrong and book people that aren't good or don't "get"frum crowds is a mystery to me.

9:35 - Read some of Leon Charney's The Mystery Of The Kaddish. Led ma'ariv. Read an email, wrote an email. It all may sound innocuous, but none of it is. Nothing is.

A few months ago I finally replaced my old phone. I got a new phone with a built in answering machine, so I got rid of the old answering machine. And now when I have a new message it is no longer introduced by a deep voiced man saying, "Sunday: twelve o'clock, A.M." Now the baritone voice announces the day and date precisely, correctly.

On Friday December 25th I had off from work, for the sake of the bus drivers. So instead of getting up at 6ish and aiming to be in shul in school in Jersey by 7:30, I had latitude. I could cross one of a few streets and make a minyan at 7:45 or 8:00, 8:10, even 8:30. Sometimes cliches are true and on this morning off from work it felt true that the world was mine. Then my phone rang in the other room and the message woke me. I am haunted.

'

10:38 - Helped a student with an assignment on Mishnayot Brachot. Emailed a parent back about a student. Spoke to a friend who called about a shiva visit. Learned part of a piece of Sichot Mussar (the old, typed edition, the only one I have with mark ups in my handwriting that I don't recall scribbling). Rav Chaim Shmuelewitz wonders how after seven makkot that led him to plead "Uncle," Paroh has the audacity to have Moshe and Aharon thrown out of his court. He also notes that it was after Makat Shechin that Paroh was so moved that had Hashem not hardened his heart he would have let the Jewish People go. There was something about the boils. What was it?

;

11:00 -

Good night and G-d bless

My mom SSRIP

Please ask how I am

After a Thunderstorm

(In Memory of My Mother)

f

Silenceyf

;;;

Parent Teacher Meetings, In Vivo

12:40 PM - I'm in my half hour lunch break of parent - teacher meetings. I've met with parents of 40 kids so far. Some came by to say hi, to offer condolences, to offer thanks for years past. Many were tachlis regarding this year's students. Thank G-d there were no unpleasant moments. I recall last year having a social engagement right after the meetings and I said that I had my adrenaline running high. The person I was with asked what went wrong and I said that meetings went well. My friend asked, "Then why the adrenaline?" I couldn't get it across. Perhaps you, dear reader, will understand. I leave these things tired, but feeling that I matter, feeling pumped by so much human interaction.

1:15 PM - No new customers yet. A blog reader just stopped by and said he noticed that I was blogging again.

1:43 PM - Right after the above there was a steady flow.

1:50 PM - Two more came since I tried to write the above. Wanted to write about an amazing student who told her parents she's so besimcha she just wants to spread that with others. She's in 11th grade and they're leaving in a few days to check out Israel schools because it's so important to her and she really wants to get it right.

1:57 PM - Glad I squeezed (squoze?) that in. Another fine parent just came by. Next will be #51...

2:35 PM - Five people straight, rich and intense.

2:47 PM - And another one. Parents of a Torah Guidance student just shmoozed it out with me. Their child is bright and complex and so are they. The mom made a great point, that her son has to learn to not judge judgmental people. Brilliant!

3:13 -There was just another steady flow, it could be that's it for the day. It officially ends at 4:00 P.M, but this is the time it usually peters out and then all we can do is wait. Teachers start to kill time and chit chat with each other. I like to process.

"I'm not most concerned with grades but with her being responsible, growing up, which has been happening in this school." Music to my ears. On the other hand we have, "You call 82, doing well?" One parent said their son was not a student and I begged to differ, he is an outstanding student. The fact that he comes to the system with innate challenges and yet works hard to do well speaks highly of him. More than one parent expressed distress over their child not being more religiously committed/engaged. "It hurts me that he/she's not so into Judaism." Sigh. It hurts me too.

One couple (it's nice when they come as a couple; many come alone) thanked me for my style. Another couple was thrilled to hear a story about a kid who did not get a certain honor but was thrilled as soon as he heard that the honor went to this couple's son, and supported him immediately. Many parents hear the same thing repeatedly and I get that. Sometimes I hit the same note; other times I surprise them. In the middle of writing this another parent came by (number 61) and she smiled as I spoke of her son, saying "yes that's him." She then proceeded to remind me of his wrestling practice (3 nights a week) and SAT prep, etc.

Most years at this time as things settle down I write a poem. I'm glad I processed a bit more than usual. And now I guess I'll try a poem, although I'm kind of ready to let go of this.

Following Parent -Teacher Meetings

With Apologies/Thanks to Frances G.V. Kenny

If I in my time spent today with you

Have helped you treasure your child,

To appreciate the miracle he or she is,
Have reminded you middot count most

and that grades can be a distractionl

Just as you have helped me feel I matter,

Reminded me that I make a difference,
Then together we have joined to refine
And polish the diamonds we are and we make

And on this day the future shines with elegance.

Acquainted with the Night

By Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain -- and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
A luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Our Yetzer Harah, Our Self

The early parshiot of Shmot (Shmot, Va'Eirah, Bo, and the start of Beshalach) contain a subtle theme of slavery, often overshadowed by the blatant enslavement at the forefront of our story. It is important to study the slavery of a different flavor which provides a crucial subtext which plays a crucial role in the tale of redemption.

Paroh relentlessly restrained the Jewish People, even after repeatedly receiving the strong demand from G-d that he release them. In light of the devastation he suffered Paroh's refusal to let the Jews go is perplexing. Paroh becomes easier to understand when compared to an addict. An alcoholic causes his own downfall, then swears to make amends, and then continues to destroy his own life. He can't stop drinking, even as he watches it ruin his life. Despite his knowledge of the consequences to his actions, Paroh, like any addict, couldn't control himself and pursued behavior which led him to death.

Like Paroh we each mirror the addictive personality. Rabbi Abraham Twerski proposes reading any book on alcoholism and replacing "alcohol" with "yetzer hara." The result produces a treatise on our own daily struggles and temptations. Our compulsive drives do not differ greatly from those of an alcoholic or addict. We all have addictions, such as food, TV, gossip, sleep, video games, texting, sports, movies, etc. We run the risk of becoming slaves to our own physical selves. In a way we resemble the despot who enslaved our ancestors more than Bnei Yisrael themselves.

In Twerski on Spirituality, the author refers to addiction as "the most absolute type of slavery the world has ever known". This is because an addict "is likely to do things he never thought possible, but when he is in the grip of addiction, the drug is a ruthless totalitarian dictator" and under his regime "the addict completely loses the unique human distinction of being free". Despite America's title as land of the free, like Paroh many of us only appear free while really being enslaved in the worst possible way to our own passions.

Fraida Liba Levine points out that being the addict that he was Paroh dealt with his human insecurity and feeling of helplessness by feigning power and control. Chazal tell us that he claimed to have no imperfections, and due to his inability to admit any human flaws he would go down to the Nile early in the morning to use the bathroom. (Thus, in 7:16 Hashem tells Moshe, “Go in the morning when he goes to the water…”)

It must have been difficult to hold it in the rest of the day, and it was only to be thought of as greater than he was, more than a very powerful king. Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz says that we see the power of kavod. We, like Par'oh, go to great lengths to keep up facades for the sake of honor that brings us no tangible added benefit in life. Paroh was enslaved to his image as a deity.

When Moshe was first approached by the Jewish People saying he’d been sent to save them, they were preoccupied with burdensome work and that's why they didn't listen. Paroh didn't have the distraction they had, so he could listen. This makes it difficult to understand why Moshe posits that if the people didn’t listen then surely Paroh wouldn’t. How is it a logical argument, a solid kal vechomer? The Birchas Mordechai (Rav Mordechai Mizrachi) explains that they were preoccupied and so was Paroh. He worked all day at playing god, which is very exhausting. And yet he was addicted, caught up in his own form of slavery.

He was afraid of Bnai Yisrael taking over his power, a fear which was baseless yet caused the slave to enslave others. This is not unusual: haven't we all seen the bully pick on others due to his own sense of personal inadequacy, branding others with labels he fears apply to him? The more Paroh fought to gain control and claim power the more he lost control and fell into helplessness, just like every common addict.

If the pregnant subtext of Paroh being an addict seems like a stretch, let a more blatant subtext not be missed. Bnai Yisrael were addicted to Egypt. We're told that they were taken out from sivlot Mitzrayim. The Sfat Emet points out the connection to patience - savlanut. They had become used to the routine of slavery. In a way they liked it. We hear later repeatedly how much they miss Egypt, hard as it was they got into it. They yearn for fleshpots, and gourds, and beg, "Take us back." They even miss the Egyptian graves, alluding that it would be a shame to die in the desert given that Egypt was a death focused society.

Mitzrayim is an abstraction as well as a geographical place. The word means straits. In every generation on any given day we are each trying to escape our own Mitzrayim. As Shlomo HaMelech put it, we often behave like dogs, eating food which harms us. Then after we vomit, we cave to temptation and return to taste what we just regurgitated. How human, how sad.

One night fourteen years ago I was in Israel and grabbed dinner at Bonker's Bagels in Geulah. The place was empty except for me and a chevra of yeshivish yeshivah bachumrim. A man entered and asked for tzedakah. One of the boys asked the poor fellow how he had the chutzpah to beg for money when he was clearly using it on cigarettes (he was smoking one at that moment). Without missing a beat the reply came back, "G-d should save you from addiction." I hope I never forget that moment. The truth is that those boys, like all us humans, are not spared but have to struggle every day to overcome one form of addiction or another, our yetzer harah, our self.

May we be blessed with the wisdom necessary to understand, remember, and learn from the overt as well as the covert varieties of slavery present in the story of our sojourn in Mitzrayim. May we win the battle against our own slavery. And may we merit daily and ultimate redemption every day, speedily, in our lifetime.