"Random Thoughts, Do They Have Meaning?"

A well-developed sense of humor

is the pole that adds balance to your steps

as you walk the tightrope of life.

~William Arthur Ward

I am blessed to have some success as a comedian and humorist. This trait has helped me in life. It inspired the following:

Your sense of humor

Will drop by and save your life

If you let her in

In life, sense of humor or not, challenges will come our way. And we have to breathe and move forward.

Talking with some people, for me, is like a punch that always hits harder and hurts more after than I thought it would before. And yet, I need to reframe as much as possible, stand up for myself as much as possible, and breathe and move on in ways that may seem impossible in my imagination.

Today I taught all of Parshat Beshalach three times. I have an approach to the whole parshah and gave it over to my classes. One student, in an honors class, said, "Can we do this kind of sweeping approach every time? I hate learning in detail." I taught it because it's what we're up to in Shmot (it just happens to be the parshah.)

I watched The Cove; it's worth seeing. I didn't know that it was about the trainer of Flipper. Cool. And sad. I watched it because it was about to expire on Netflix streaming. Now I'm watching the last episode of Cosby. I watched the first one, skipped the middle eight years. I missed the eighties, culturally, so I was curious to give it a look-see before it expires as well.

As is my way, I'm writing this in spurts; I plan to push publish before the night is up. It's weird - even though it's just a few years old, blogging feels to have died out, at least, largely, in regard to this blog.

Today a student very politely and shyly asked me if I could help him with a Dvar Torah for a family simchah. It kind of made my day. I've done a bunch of these kind of things, look forward to doing more.

A dear colleague and friend is fond of a scene from Mary Poppins as it comes through for him in the clutch. As they're leaving the family's home, because all is now good there - thanks to Mary - her umbrella handle talking bird makes a frustrated remark. The bird says something like, "Now they'll go back to their lives like normal and forget that you were ever here." To which Mary replies, "As it should be."

That reminds me of a story another friend of mine told me. He tells the students in his Israel school that as they move through life they will be close with different role models and teachers and that's as it should be. He tells them that it's good to stay in touch, but if when they're in college and beyond, their main go-to-people remain exclusively their Israel school people - who helped them so much at a certain age stage - then the school has not done their job right. People are supposed to get what they need from their helpers and teachers at various stages of life, be appreciative (be very appreciative) and move on. As it should be.

On a related unrelated note (a tidbit about someone who studies with and is very close to a former student of mine):


Recently I mentioned to a friend of mine that Mayim Bialik was Modern Orthodox and said friend replied, "I think she identifies herself as Conservadox," This 6 minute interview gives a good picture of where she's at Jewish-ly.

I just googled writing prompts. I'm going to try the one that suggests closing your eyes briefly and conjuring up three things, then opening your eyes and writing about the three things.

1. One of my earliest memories. My mom was preparing gifts for a grab bag for my fourth birthday. As she wrapped the items, one caught my eye. It was a shiny, red ball. I asked if I could have it on the spot. She said, "No, it's for the party." I was disappointed. At the party, when it came to prize time, my mother showed me that she had put the ball aside, saved it for me, and now she gifted me with it. For many years afterward, even as it started to peel and develop holes, I kept and cherished that rubber ball sized, spongy, red ball. And bow I have the memory.

2.

In seventh grade my classmate Ira brought in and freely shared hundreds of stickers that his dad gave him from his work. They were pink and yellow butterflies with a human looking smiley face in the middle. (Pictured above is an actual one of the stickers, which I placed and saved till today on a Curad metal band-aid container, which is filled with my button collection.) He had giant rolls of them - on that bland kind of paper that stickers get put upon - and as I remember, he generously gave people as many of these cool stickers as they wanted. I was big fan of those butterflies, and I liked to cut them and reshape them in my own style.

In the middle of the summer after that school year I was riding the bus home from Elmont Jewish Center day camp. One day two sisters, Lisa and Robin, were talking to each other and looking at me. They were also in my school and from my community/shul. Finally the one encouraged the other to come over to me and ask her question.  I was quite curious when she approached. And then she asked, "You know how the butterfly sticker on your notebook was different? Was that the way you got it from Ira or did you change it yourself?"

3. I vaguely remember being taught about a concordance in elementary school. I first used one when I was 17, learning in Israel.

I graduated in January 1980 and went to BMT from January to June. I wanted to learn through the summer and chose Aish HaTorah because they're open for Bein HaZemanim - the conventional yeshiva vacation. I chose Aish HaTorah, still a relatively young, small, unknown place - far from the household name it is today. At the time, I took a liking to their content and style.

In 1980 Aish HaTorah had no set dorm, instead using various apartments spread across the Old City of Jerusalem to house their students. I was in an old and moldy one. My friend who made the same move I did for the summer was in a newer building.

One of his room-mates seemed old to me. This is always tricky, how to figure out how old someone was who you thought was old when you were very young. Some people I thought were old when I was a kid were in their twenties. But there was a room-mate in this apartment my friend was in who genuinely seemed older than the average "Aish"- age. His hair was all gray. which I've learned generally means that one is over 40.

This fellow had an extensive sefarim collection that took up a good deal of the public living area that one encountered upon entering this dorm. One day I was waiting to meet my friend and perused the books while hanging around the vestibule. I noticed a concordance on the bookshelf.

I picked the concordance off the shelf on a whim, having decided that I'd settle an old score once and for all. I looked up the word natah (nun - tet - ayin) to see if it is ever used as a noun. This mattered to me because the word is my Hebrew name. I found that there is one place in Tanach, in Iyov, where the word means a plant. I have carried that with me since then, always telling people that my name is used in Iyov. I made that my pasuk to recite after Shmoneh Esrei (I don't know of one that starts with a nun and ends with an ayin). The fellow's bookshelves were very orderly, I got the feeling he was possessive and protective of his books. I've always had some regret for looking at that concordance without asking for permission.