Shabbat Shalom World.

Last night I shared my ladder story. I had not recalled this till I started blogging and since it came back into my consciousness I've often thought of it as an apt example of my essence. (A search of slide ladder brings up these posts.) As I last told the tale it dawned on me that it was more revealing than I'd previously realized. When I was 6 years old and in first grade I was afraid to climb the ladder up the playground slide. It seemed steep and the fall would have been onto pavement. I was scared. I liked going down the slide. I felt comfortable getting to the top of the slide the same way I went down it - on the slide itself. The slide was gradual and of one piece, and that made it less daunting - for me. The one tricky part was that when I got to the top I had to twist around and perch before sliding down; but it was the only way - for me. I was not - consciously - trying to seek attention, quite the opposite. I was simply doing what made sense to me, my own thing, with no thought of how it would look to others. I wasn't thinking of others and didn't want them entering my picture. I had used this slide technique before and it worked. And it didn't bother anyone and no-one bothered me about it. This time, though, the teacher scolded me, and - if I remember correctly - threatened me big time; she said she'd tell my mother. She was sure that I was being a wisenheimer. I was shocked when she disciplined me. I was being me the only way I knew how. Flash forward to now, haiku author, stand up comedian, writer of a blog for seven years, Facebook poster of updates that others may see as unusual. At this point I thought I'd bring it all together but I have run out of things to say other than this: I am who I am and it is what it is.

I'm in the basement of the home I grew up in. Shabbos is a few minutes away. Candle lighting here is at 4:39, according to myzmanim. Plag HaMincha is late these days, which is helpful if you want to daven Mincha early so you can properly do Ma'ariv early.

I am with cold.

I started learning Darchei Noam on the parsha, that's the present Yerushalayim Slonimer Rebbe. I hope to write it up at some point. He discusses the four phrases of redemption and why it says vehitzalti as that one was already promised to Moshe (I believe at the sneh). He explains the geulah as having a spiritual and a physical component. One point he makes is that major problems begin with what we allow our eyes to see (lo taturu).

I'm in the middle of reading several books. Holy Beggars is amazing. I love books in which someone cuts their insides open and shows you. The Reading Promise, is supposedly the story of a father reading to his daughter for thousands of nights in a row. But the chapters aren't so much about the reading as being snapshots of their lives. Still, it's a quirky and good read. I'm really enjoying I Watch, Therefore I Am. It's philosophy explained with TV examples. It's a sweet read.

I miss Jane Kenyon, though I never knew her. Her husband, Donald Hall, has never done it for me the way her poems did. Still, his essay in The New Yorker is intriguing. Maybe I'll finish it. "I am eighty-three, I teeter when I walk, I no longer drive, I look out the window." Poetic. Beautiful.

Shabbos is tiptoeing our way. She doesn't want to disturb, but she knows its time for attention to be turned her way. She is so polite, has been since I've known her. I look forward to spending time with Shabbos. And to sharing Shabbos with my dad.

Shabbat Shalom World.