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I am chewing on the sweet taste of childhood. It remains crunchy, has not melted in its milk. Eating Quisp cereal and enjoying the occasional plastic alien prize were a staple of my youth. Quisp, I've missed you.
I am chewing on the sweet taste of childhood. It remains crunchy, has not melted in its milk. Eating Quisp cereal and enjoying the occasional plastic alien prize were a staple of my youth. Quisp, I've missed you. 3:43 PM - Shlomo Katz' live in Melbourne is playing. I just got home, miraculously. I was walking down River Road toward Route 4, coming from Jefferson. Probably about a half hour walk. A kind, dear colleague "happened" to appear in his car and offer me a ride to my door. Wow.I am grateful to him. Thank G-d. It save me about an hour and a half and camel and buggy time.
Perhaps another day I will write more about today's funeral. For now I thank those who commented within around the last post. Rabbi Borchardt was my father's (HSLABW) first cousin by marriage. His children are thus my second cousins. He was a chashuv man and has left behind a great family and legacy.
There's a scene in The Sunshine Boys in which Walter Mathau's character has a hard time opening a door and his nephew tells him to jiggle and not force it. That popped in my head and this came out:
Moshe Yess is on my mind today. Somehow I connect with him deeply and associate that connection with my dad (HSLABW). In 1984 I was living in Yeshiva in Yerushalayim, there on a one way ticket. Dad came to visit. We went out to Moshe's cafe off Jaffa Rd, in town. We were the only ones there. He put on a show just for us. They had delicious pecan pie. I requested this song - Sukkos in Jerusalem - and he did it. And that moment is still embedded on my heart.
"Have you had this exact situation many times before?" a student recently asked me. I was saying things that resonated to his unique predicament, listening with a whole heart - as best I could. I had never heard a situation like his before. And I have heard situations like his hundreds of times before. The Rabbis teach, "Hevei metunim bedin." Rabeinu Ovadia MiBartenura explains that even if the same scenario seems to present itself one hundred times, you should look at it like new each time. This is true for a court officer, but more importantly it's important for anyone who wishes to be an evolved human being. By seeing a case as new you are enabled to draw on common denominators from the foundations of cases, so different and so similar. Sophisticated wisdom comes with conscious effort combined with time. True wisdom is the blessing from G-d to take what we've seen and taken in once and applying it to another context that arises later.
A colleague sent out an email yesterday asking if anyone had a Torah Temimah on Shmot that they could bring in. I emailed back that I'd bring it and I did. Non drivers don't generally get that an extra book makes a difference when you're walking about a mile a day. I was disappointed when I informed my associate that I'd brought the sefer only to be told that he's found it elsewhere. No thank you to my email, no - it's OK, you don't have to bring it. No super sensitivity, just normalcy. I've got to learn to accept that.
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.
Maybe it's time to start text messaging to friends I just met on the bus and leave blogging behind. It's amazing how quickly something can grow old. CDs came and left like a wink. And while I was shedding a tear for the CD the basic cell phone packed it's bags and evacuated the planet along with emailing, blogging, and Please Leave Your Message At The Sound Of The Beep.
Sometimes when I wake up I'm still partially in dreamland. I am so close to that city that I remember not only the dreams I just had, but I also am filled with pieces from other visits. This morning, a few minutes out, I remembered a rabbi not prone to giving blessings calling me over from a large group standing around him and placing his hands on my head and saying a heartfelt blessing for something I want in my life. Then there was a Shabbos meal in dreamland in which a single male said that he was at this gathering, with this crowd, not for himself but more-so for his sister who was single and older than him, looking for someone for her. Then there was a return visit to my grandparents' apartment. This time there was a crew of us assessing the place and the problem of mold that had taken over the walls...
Tonight my father (HSLABW) passed forward a gig idea. We hung up and I took another call and then a fuse blew. Besides the very back rooms (bed and bath) everything else went out. I hung up on my dear friend and headed out to buy fuses. G-d had me bump into a neighbor who owns a hand me down bag of fuses. I unscrewed one little orange bulb and turned a new one clockwise in the same spot. In a second the fridge was whirring and the lights were back. Yeshuat Hashem KeHeref Ayin.
I was walking before and the idea of the emotional pains that we all have entered my head. And I imagined getting home and writing about the baggage of hurt we all carry. But now that I'm sitting listening to Peter Paul and Mary sing Rocky Road I think I've changed my mind.
I was just thinking that one day I'll search the words "home again" to find posts in which I used that phrase, which I often evoke from the basement of my youth (that may sound poetic but it's physically where the computer is in my dad's - hslabw - house, where I am once again, at this moment. I just made one day into now and searched that term.
Yes, today is a snow day, my place of employment is closed. It wasn't as bad as they predicted, which seems to happen a lot. My father (HSLABW) pointed out to me - a few days ago as they were starting to build this up - that the radio announcers (probably TV too) overplay any chance of snow as a way of getting listeners.
I was in the YU library and bumped into (actually he snuck up on me) a dear childhood friend.
At the moment that he came over I was asking the librarian for the Yated Ne'men from two week's ago. I wanted to photo-copy the beautiful tribute to my father's (HSLABW) cousin, Rabbi Baruch Borchardt (Lehibadel Min HaChayim UMin HaMeitim)(ZT"L).After about twenty minutes the Rebetzin - who was ever protective of the great rabbi - heard the laughter and came in and asked, "Oh, is X telling you jokes?" And it was quickly made clear to her that this time it was the other way around.
I speak professionally on the topic of humor in Judaism, maybe I've blogged about it. Now I have a new piece to add. While this is not a humor outlet for me, I am a big believer in humor.
Shabbos has been out for about an hour. In that time I spoke to my Hin-Jew friend, my director friend, and my dad (HSLABW - and my friends too).