Saturday, November 22, 2014

Good Vuch / Ten year Anniversary Post

6:59 PM - Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of this blog.  I'm grateful to G-d for all this life, all this writing, all this connecting- hopefully.

Spent Shabbos with dad.  Have a ride to my apartment, which was to be any minute or not at all.  Thinking about time passed and passing.  thinking about how I love my dad. As the blog has gone, so have ten years gone.  Mom is in the next world.  And... So much to say and not to say.


I don't feel like linking.  A Dana Gioia poem that's on this blog comes to mind- about the letters we write our dead.  And searching comes to mind.  The other day i was sharing the blog with someone asked for a random word, they came up with "hello."  Lots of posts come up.  try it, search a word, let me know what you find.  there's a lot in here, it surprises me how much, and what, I've written here...


Off to wait for my ride...


8:32 PM - Here at my desk in my apartment. Took longer than expected, so much does.  Ride just called to thank me for recommending FUV.  


Thinking about these passed years, these ten blog years.  If you search the words "can't go home again," you'll find posts from when I went home again.  But now I can't.  The house is empty of people and people are what makes a home.  So maybe I was back home again this Shabbos, with dad in his new home, inside a big, clean, place. Sigh. That means I just sighed.


I've searched the word "purple" within this blog, and the words "I shall not," and found some rich stuff.  I like looking back at a piece I wrote one Motzai YK, which is findable by searching "Jennifer Blyer" and/or holy schleppers.  I also like a piece I wrote about the road less travelled and how it doesn't mean what a lot of people think it means.  And a piece about how Hal Holbrook has been Mark Twain was Mark Twain.  I think it was called Role "Em, and I think Pearl liked the title (which reminds me: A big thank you to all who read and commented and were part of the storied and alive history of this blog)...


Off to connect with a friend...


10:53 PM - Back at the keyboard again.


Things from over the years I like/remember:  The four part series about my name.  Any poems I posted from sarah Shapiro.  Any Aaron Bulman poems.  Pems in general.  The poem called, "Did I Miss Anything?' That's a really big one for me and my life.  it's a mission statement- connect, be present.  Anything I quoted from Mr. Rogers. 


I just searched C.S. Lewis in this blog and it turns out I've mentioned him in many posts.  here's a quote I had forgotten knowing that I like all over again:


"When you teach a child writing, you hold its hand while it forms the letters: that is, it forms the letters because you are forming them. We love and reason because God loves and reasons and holds our hand while we do it." - C.S. Lewis


Here's a poem I just rediscoverd in a previous post.

Apartment House
By Gerald Raftery

A filing cabinet of human lives
Where people swarm like bees in tunnelled hives,
Each to his own cell in the covered comb,
Identical and cramped - we call it home.

11:07 PM - Time for sleep, soon.  

I am grateful to G-d for connections.  Everything comes down to that. To the extent that I don't connect and want to I am pained.  To the extent that I connect i am pleased.  i thank G-d for my continuing to have connections, in my life, and in this blog.
Happy Anniversary to all who see this, all who are part of this.  Thank you.

Good Night and G-d Bless.  (Decided to break the no linking rule just once).

P.S. - 

GNAGB

Good night and G-d bless
Sometimes I write boldly
Sometimes softly, with "may"
Depending on how He moves me

Good night and G-d bless
I write with gratefulness
That G-d blessed me with the
Ability to hope He blesses you

Good night and G-d bless
I write again and again
Sometimes as a rough draft
Sometimes as a gentle wind


- Me (Neil Fleischmann)

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Got A Ticket For My Destination

This is being written and posted in real time. It's 1:45 AM. About 20 minutes ago I finished watching the movie It's Complicated with dad (hslabw). More a mom movie (lihibadel min hachayim umin hameitm). A month ago, on Saturday night, April 15th, I sat here at about the same time, after having watched Up In The Air with dad. I wrote for a while and envisioned posting but carried the post for the past four weeks. I need to go to sleep soon, so instead of pinpointing my percolating perspectives at this point I will post what I wrote a month ago. Tonight will have to wait. And the spaces being just write will have to wait too - tweaking is tiring and time consuming.

April 16, 2010

At 9:15 tonight I started to write. Shabbos ended about a half hour earlier. After Shul I shmoozed about the sefirot with a wise, good man and then walked home through the courts. Home.

I spent Shabbos in my father's home. Four months ago it was my parents' home. They say you can't go home again. I think you have to try to go home again, and to find your own home. Lately I've been giving myself writing assignments, taking a word and going with it. Home.

o

My spot at the kitchen table will always be -in my soul - my place to eat: perpendicular to dad, opposite mom, diagonal from bro. And my childhood bed, and room, will be my bed and room. I used to make pictures on the wall in the bright light cast from the Rosenbergs' porch till late at night. To fall asleep I'd imagine my bed floating into the sky and fly away to sleep. Home.

I spoke briefly with a potential mate tonight. I passed time as I waited for the Mets' game to end. Dad and I planned to watch a movie after Shabbos, right after the game ended. Who knew it would go to 19 (20?) innings? I chilled in the basement, a place I sat for many hours as a kid - my secret clubhouse. Home.
j

I sat listening to ambient music, thinking and writing about Shabbos and life. I spoke from the pulpit in the morning and taught between mincha and ma'ariv. The first time I did that I was seventeen years old. Mr. Cohen's been asking for months, each time I've visited, if I'll be speaking. Today I walked up that podium again. Home.

There was a shayla in shul. The rabbi was away. They asked me. They had already asked someone else. Two feuding gabayim put me in the middle without my knowing it. I gave my psak - an outlet that was attached to a timer heated the water pre Shabbos then turned it off on Shabbos and heated it again, should there be a knas? - and in the end the other team won. Home.
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People - was it more women then men, or did it just seem that way? - came to me at kiddush and said they liked my speech. They liked that it had a beginning, middle, end, and a clear point (I guess I haven't been teaching public speaking classes for the last nine years for nothing). I said I was glad it was meaningful to them. Home.

;

Childhood friend was visiting from Israel. Seeing him was a joy, it made me revisit sweet times of over thirty years ago. Talking with him, both of us gray haired, yet bearing our old essential selves in clear view made me feel young and comfortable. Home.
;
;

As I spoke to the potential mate I wondered what home means. There's that Gemorah (h or no h? - I never know) in which a rabbi says he never referred to his wife by her name, he just called her home. Then I heard Billy Joel sing, "I never had a place that I could call my very own, but that's alright my love for your my home." That's why a woman walks around a man under their Chupah, she centers him, provides a home. I want to get gotten. Home.

l

This afternoon I walked in Alley Pond Park. That's where I cried at Little League practice because my strabismus made it almost impossible to make bat meet ball, and my scoliosis made it hard to run. That's where I jogged like there was no tomorrow the day that I left to Israel at 21 on a one way ticket. That's where my family and I threw away our missteps at tashlich. That's where I walked today. Home.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Weekend In Windsor Park

On Friday night I was reading Rabbi Riskin's memoir in which he writes that Thomas Wolf was right, that "you can't go home again."  The funny (not ha-ha) thing is that I was reading the book at my father's kitchen table in my childhood home.  I've said it before and I'm sharing again that you can go home again.  Here I am, starting this post, in the basement of my youth, typing at the Acer home computer my brother and sister in law got my parents as a gift.

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

Going to the shul I grew up in is a trip - and now I am recalling it from back in my own adult home. So many characters of interest; lots of nice folks in the small townin Queens that I grew up in.  There's the fellow who has reread Living Each Day every day of every year for the past twenty five years.  (He remembers that I like Rabbi Twerski, so he always tells me something about his favorite book - this visit he told me that the cover finally fell off. He also shared that he  liked the story about the extra rabbi attending a gathering when only ten had been invited and how an innocent took the rap and walked out to not embarrass the one who actually crashed.) Then there's the Agnon scholar who helped me understand Another Tallit - Tallit Acheret. (He pointed out how the word makom, which is central to the story is also a reference to G-d.  Also, that "acheret" alludes to Rabbi Elisha ben Avuya - Acher. He published an article  about it called HaChilul HaMeshulash in a journal called HaSifrut in 1972.) There's the fellow who's retired to Las Vegas and is back for a visit, waiting for a child to be born.  There's the rabbi who spoke about being versus doing and connected the concepts to the Rambam and Ramban's views of the Mishkan/Mikdash. (One can argue that The Rambam sees the focus of the Mikdash as being the offering of korbanot and to a lesser degree - aliyah leregel, i.e. doing.  The Ramban sees the key function of the Mikdash to be receiving the Hashra'at HaShechinah, being. His concluding message was that in life we have to balance being and doing.)  There's the pious woman who is a chasidah of the late Rabbi Tuviah Charner who was touched by the vort I quoted from him in my short Dvar torah in Shul on Friday night (her husband told her about it and at kiddush she asked me to repeat it). (The vort, in short, was that Torah, Avodah, and Gemilut Chasadim can be taken broadly to mean three pillars of the world: education, work, and community.)  There's the man who always tells me he wishes I'd speak in Shul more often and asks me his self proclaimed "klutz kashas".  The Baal Korei who walks a round trip of roughly six miles from Kew Gardens Hills likes to share Divrei torah with me, particularly from his Roshei Yeshivah. And he calls me from time to time when his Yeshivah has a raffle. There's the woman who loves my book.  There's her colorful friend who is a professional driver.  There's the president and his puns and the one man who laughs at them.  There's the woman who says kaddish religiously. There are empty seats filled with ghosts of candy-men and Bar-Mitzvah teachers, talkers and shushers, those who have departed to the next world, and those who are in Florida. And of course there is my dad, he should be blessed with continued health and life.  At 83 he's a pillar of the community, making a minyan every day, serving as a key member, giving out sweets to the kids on Shabbos.  My dad is a survivor and a thriver in more ways than I can count.  I love him and am proud of him.  And I love that I can count on him to read this post.

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


Opportunity 
does not knock, it presents itself 
when you beat down the door.

~ Kyle Chandler

Saturday, March 03, 2012

7:19 PM - Just back from shul. Back in the house of my childhood. You can go home again.

I yearn to write and more-so to be read, as much as I dread others hearing and judging my words. Do all writers struggle with these contradictions. I think maybe. This past Thursday a colleague came to my office and asked if I had a few minutes. Yes. No. But yes. Meryl Feldblum and I had just last Tuesday co-advised/chaperoned our school's contingency at a poetry slam (at which we won the award for best gazhal). Meryl was inspired by the event to write a masterful, personal piece of poetry. To me a wow. She raised the question of whether the written word urges other to listen, to read. Yes.

And yet.

7:51 PM - I've been sitting here for the last half hour plus. Been tweaking Pandora, checking emails, the usual things we do when we stare at the computer. Time to live a little. I'm going upstairs to watch some basketball with dad, maybe eat a little salad, perchance to prep.

8:20 PM - Just had a quick dinner with dad (hslabw). Gruenkern soup for dad. Some of that and more for me. Dad says that he can find the whole but not the ground. He laughed when I said you could probably buy them on line. You can get the ground gruenkern here, and the whole gruenkern seeds here. My fellow J-Blogger (is that term still used?) "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner" writes about it here. A commenter there links to this site, which says that gruenkern is green/unripe, roasted spelt and shares the history of how it became a food. Another of Dinner's readers links to this video which shows the old school way of harvesting the gruenkern.

11:59 and Beyond -

Time to stop pumping music thoughts into my head
Time to climb the orange brown stairs and go to bed

They say you can't go home again,
Here I am - if not now, when?

Hours ago I daydreamed of things to write here
Now the deep ones have all disappeared.

Good night and G-d bless you, and you, and especially you
Remember that the only way out is to let G-d carry you through.

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

Silently, For Me

Somewhere I have notes, I mean on the 2 movies and one play I saw this summer with magical realism at their core.  They were all related - one even referenced another.  I am working from memories inmy  head and heart; memories fueled by feelings.

Home.  What does it mean? I've been slowly working through Aharon Appelfeld's For Every Sin a book about a man who desperately wants to go home.  Through the whole book all he does is journey to a place that is no longer and to people who are neither in that place nor alive.

Billy Joel wrote, "I never had a place that I could call my very own, but that's alright my love, for you're my home (or something like that)."  A rabbi in the Gemorah said similarly that his wife was his home ("Ishti zu beiti" - or something like that.)

A place can be ours though we don't live there. Two people can find home in each other, even if  there is geographical distance between them. Where ever we grew up, like Dorothy, there will never be a place like it.  We're always looking for home. Someone wise once said, "You cant go home.  Now go home."

George Carlin rarely, if ever, made me laugh.  But from the first time I heard him - about 35 years ago - he  made me think.  He has a routine in which he compares baseball to football and he basically ranks on baseball as wimpy and lauds football as manly.  He uses the lexicon of each sport to prove his point.  One  of his observations is that in baseball the point is to go home.  He mocks that idea.  I wonder if that observation explains the deep connection American men have to baseball; the longing to go home.

Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi famously said that while he was where his body was physically, his heart was elsewhere - home, in the holy land of Israel.  Rabbi Nachman MiBreslov composed a prayer in which he didn't claim to long to be in Israel.  He prayed for that longing:

"Oh merciful and generous G-d... cause me and all of Israel to merit having longing, yearning, anticipation, and true desire to come to Israel...because You know how great the need is, how much I have to be there in the Holy Land in proportion to my great distance from You because in Israel is the essential foundation and source of holy faith.  There, in Israel, rest the roots of the broad holiness of the Jewish People.  It is the land that G-d is constantly inquiring after, the land of true life, eternal life, the beautiful view that brings joy to the world."

The Holy Land is a place of connection, of unification.  Legend has it that the Temple is built on a place where two brothers each wanted to give to the other more than they wanted to take anything for themselves. Jerusalem is called by King David the city that is bound together as one, and it is no coincidence that when you're there you tend to see everyone you know

I've been thinking about connection, and it comes in handy that I take my entertainment heavy. There were two films and one play I wanted to see this summer and it's July 31 and I've seen them all:

People think that Harvey is a play about a man who sees an imaginary rabbit.  I think that's a side point.  The essence of the main character, Elwood P.Dowd, is that he wants to connect to everyone he meets.  He was perhaps the first media man to sincerely convey the sentiment of hope that we can all get along.  And when people are around him they take his message in.  When Elwood meets anyone he offers his friendship.  In the course of the play he says to a cab driver, two doctors, a nurse, and a phone solicitor something to the effect of, "We should get together." They say yes.  And he follows up with, "When?"

Ruby Sparks, a wonderful new film, references Harvey, and of course the reference is to the rabbit.  What the works have in common is a study of the human need for true acceptance of and connection to other human beings.  Perhaps my least favorite line of the play Harvey is when he says that he used to like reality but gave up on it long ago.  He actually seeks a reality in which everyone extends and accepts friendship to one another, a reality in which connections between people are real (and there would perhaps then be no need for the camaraderie of mythical pookas). Harvey hasn't given up, he constantly seeks to create a better life for people.

Ruby Sparks is, similarly, a story about connection between people. It's about how we often form relationships with our ideal version of another, which amounts to little more than a relationship with our own selves and our ability to create and control.  If we're always telling someone how we want them to be then we end up needing to spend abundant time keeping up with the sculpture of them we're sculpting,  rather than allowing them to be there for us in a relationship and vice versa.  This is what Ruby Sparks is about, though if you blink you may think it's only the story of how a writer writes about himself having a relationship with his ideal woman and then she suddenly appears in his house.

At this point in the post it's time to write about the other movie I saw this summer.  However (though I will get to the film, I guess) I sit writing right now in the lobby of the Kings hotel in Jerusalem.  I stayed here for the first time (first time I ever stayed for pleasure in any hotel) and here I am  again.  I thought the issues with the Internet not working 3 years ago had to do with the fact that I was using their computers.  No.  So I spent a while on the phone with their IT guy and it seems to be working now, give or take.  I think the people who come here are generally not an Internet crowd - I guess it's hard to keep up up to snuff just for my tri-annual visit.

The plane got in around 4 AM. I got to the hotel at about 6. The room will be ready by 2.  Breakfast is included - for tomorrow. So I'm hanging in the lobby.  I figured I'd get breakfast at a cafe down the street.  I walked there and asked if they had a te'udah.  Te'udat kashrut? they asked (not a good sign).  No -they answered.  None at all? No.  So much for their food and free Internet.  (And so much for my trust in a relative who told me some years ago that the place he took me too had a te'udah - betach - even though there wasn't one on the wall and no-one in the placed looked remotely frum besides us).`

I left my stuff in the storage closet and went to the kotel for Shacharit, and words.  Someone on the verge of conversion recently gave me a note to put in the Kotel. It   is very important to them and I was worried to make sure to do it.  Done.  I came back to the hotel with only about 6 hours till my room will be ready.  I asked if I could trade tomorrow's breakfast for today.  No.  So I splurged on the dairy shmorgesboad of a breakfast and was able to get a bit of everything I wanted other than the omelets to order which had a Disneyland kind of line for them.

I'm right nearby the office of someone I usually visit when I'm here, someone who means a lot to me.  The last time I was here he gave me what felt like snappish, unsolicited mussar and it hurt.  So I'm wary about going again. I suppose avoidance is not the only way to deal with this.

So here I am in the holiest place on earth and I don't much feel like writing about a film.  But I gave you (you, who?) my word.  Safety Not Guaranteed is about connection and relationships.  Any review will tell you it's about a guy who takes out a personal ad seeking someone to go back in time with him.  A lot happen after he takes out that ad and it's answered by three cynical reporters, one of whom turns around and comes to believe - in so many things.  See it.

May we all be blessed to live in true reality filled with holiness, connection, dreams come true and maybe even some magical realism (don't you want Tinkerbell to stay alive?).

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Beginnings


This is a session that I wrote for teachers meeting with students just beginning high school. I believe that it contains ideas relevant for all. Enjoy.




Beginnings

Kol Hatchalah Tzrichah El HaTachlit (- Mishlei Yisrael)

By Rabbi Neil Fleischmann

The first vaad is about focusing on beginnings in a practical and thoughtful way. While this applies to the vaad it also applies to the first meeting you have with this a freshman class; as their go to person you can make certain things clear in the first period. The first class that freshmen have in high school stays with them and so being their first period on their first day of school is a big responsibility. Students remember, or so they say, years later how their first teacher on their first day of high school made them feel.

There are many sources for the idea that beginnings are very important, that all goes according to the start. There is the famous saying (famous to teachers, not to freshmen students, generally speaking), and reality, of kol hatchalot kashot (Mechilta on Shmot 19:5). Rashi, on the beginning of this pasuk that famously calls us Am Segulah; “Ve’atah im shamoah, tishme’u el mitzvotai...” Rashi says, “If you accept Torah now it will be pleasant to you in the future: Shekol hatchalot kashot.” (Be’er Yitzchak questions this pshat because the double lashon is generally used for emphasis and not interpreted, though he suggests that the introductory word ve’atah allows for a drashah). Rashi comments similarly on the words we say three times daily – “Vehayah im shamoah tishme’u” – that if you listen at the start it gets easier in the future.

The Ran speaks in Drashot HaRan about how if the start is straight then what follows will be straight. Rabbi Yehuda Parness explained this with the example of drawing a line, two lines may look equal but if one of them is a bit curved then in time that seemingly insignificant curve will increase and make a great difference. Rashi says that Noach erred in planting a vineyard as it wasn’t the right choice for a foundation of the new world. The Maggid of Dubno builds on this with the example of a man who receives a bracha that the first thing he does when he gets home will multiply. He wants to count his money as soon as he gets home so that it will multiply. When he demands that his wife get the money they begin to fight and the arguing turns out to be what multiplies as it was the first thing he did when he got home. This ties in with the idea of eating sweet things and other simanim that we do on Rosh HaShana. More important that the symbolic foods we eat are the actions that we take, the way we behave at the start of the year.

Rav Kook explains Tefilat HaDerech (you can glean this from what he says) that it’s metaphorical and not about literal robbers and wild animals. Whenever a person changes from one atmosphere to another it is a turbulent time and a time in which we need – and pray for – extra siyata dishmaya. Rav Kook’s idea of the type of difficulty inherent in moving from one realm to another is well expressed in a recently published memoir, Beautiful Unbroken (page 180) ­­­­ by Mary Jane Nealon. The author writes that she experienced sadness as she drove home from work and didn’t understand it. She recalled something a wise friend said. “My friend Rachel in Chicago told me once that she cried all the time in the car on her commute home. She said there was something about the car’s cocoon and the pace of moving from one place in life, like work to another place, that tore at people’s souls.”

Rabbi Yosef Blau’s take on Yaakov’s wrestling match with the unidentified man that the medrash tells us was the mal’ach of Eisav (and some say was Ya’akov’s conscience) is relevant here:

Yaakov Avinu seems to always have people around him, a life filled with family, with one stark exception. In anticipation of re-meeting Eisav he prepares for battle, for a typical, physical war. Yaakov divides his camp strategically and advises them on how to deal with Eisav. He helps the fifteen members of his nuclear family cross the stream of Yabbok. Then, suddenly, briefly – though it probably feels like forever -Ya'akov finds himself unusually alone. “Vayivater Ya’akov levado – and Ya’akov was left alone (Breishit 32:25).” Then he is confronted by an unexpected enemy of an unworldly sort. There is no explicit documentation of his preparation for his spiritual battle. Ya'akov's life up until this moment was his preparation. There was no cramming for this exam.

Rabbi Blau sees this story as reflective of all of our lives. The major battles are spiritual and our sole preparation for the fights that count is the way we live the episodes of our lives up to the moment when we are tested. These conflicts are amorphous. When they arrive is unannounced and unknown. The physical challenges that we think we must prepare for, often never come. When the unexpected confrontations occur the people who usually travel with and support us can suddenly be absent from our surroundings. We can fight dark forces and win, but like Ya'akov we may come out limping. We can survive and thrive and, like Yaakov, in the end gain a new identity, sanctified through our spiritual victories. It is to our advantage to view these hurdles in a positive light.

The first place that the concept of beginning appears in the Torah is Breishit. The Ramban says that the theme of the beginning of the Torah, Breishit is that in life we get things and if we are responsible we hold on to what we have and if we are irresponsible we lose what we have. This occurs repeatedly in Breishit. Adam and Chava, Kayin, Dor HaMabul, Dor Haflaga, each lose what they were trusted with due to their mistakes. This continues into Avraham and his decedents getting the land which other nations lose the right to – all due to not meeting responsibilities.

This idea applies to all beginning, all situations in which we are trusted with something at the start. Students start off with fresh notebooks and sharpened pencils - as a clean slate. What happens next in largely in their hands. This fits with the parable about the butterfly (or bird) and how whether it alive or dead is up to the person who holds it, in their hands. It also fits with the anecdote about the man who was miserable about his packed tuna sandwich that he brought to work daily. After hearing him complain incessantly a neighbor asked why he didn’t ask his wife to make him something else, to which he replied, “I make my own lunch.”

Discussion Questions

Ask students –

What are examples of beginnings that you can think of? What is true about beginning? Describe the physical and emotional aspects of a beginning.

There saying goes that all beginnings are difficult. Do you agree with this? Why do you agree or disagree with this statement? What is easy about a beginning? Did you ever do something once at the beginning and then not keep it up? Why is that? What role does adrenaline play in a beginning, in a way, being easy?

What example can you give about you or someone you know (it takes pressure off to make it about someone else) having a hard time with something at the start and then finding it easier? (You can offer this true example of a Frisch graduate who was initially rejected and then wait listed because she had never worked hard in school. She was accepted, became an extremely diligent and successful student – to the extent that people found it hard to believe her true story). How does this apply to the start of high school? Do you think it will apply again next year?

If a baseball team starts a season feeling like they have no shot at the World Series, how does this effect how they play? How does this apply to life?

The start of the school year and Rosh HaShanah usually coincide. What do these times have in common, particularly regarding the nature of beginnings?

What does it feel like when you switch from one setting to another? How often do these kinds of changes occur? What can one do to try to help the changeover go as smoothly as possible? How often do these kinds of changes happen? (In a way they happen often – school to home, home to school. On the other hand big changes like elementary school to high school don’t happen as often).

How do you prepare for a new situation? In what ways can’t you prepare. Let’s say a teacher assigns a test. What are two different ways to approach studying for the test (in terms of when you start to study)? Does this apply to other situations in life? Explain. How might it be the case that this applies to all of life?

Eventually in school you receive grades. On the first day of school you do not have a grade. Do you think if a teacher had to give everyone in the class a grade, would they say everyone starts with a hundred, or that everyone starts with a zero? What would you say? What responsibilities are students trusted with at the start of the year? What happens when you do or don’t live up to these responsibilities? If you err is what follows a punishment or a consequence?

If you make mistakes at the start, can you change for the better? Explain? How does this tie in with the connection between the start of the school year and the month of Ellul and its theme?

Ask students lead in questions about their switch from elementary school. Do they have friends in the class? In the grade? Are they nervous? (I wouldn’t put them on the spot, but just put the question out there).

Consider telling them that it’s normal to be nervous, and perhaps to share that some adults are nervous on the first day of school, maybe even yourself.

Ask them what practical questions they have and help them know who’s who and what’s what. This includes roles of various administrators, locations of offices, even locations of bathrooms.

In the end the logistical and the ethereal connect. Bring it together and try to make students as comfortable as possible with their normal human discomfort in a new stage and place in life.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

"Du du du du du du, it's just another day."


I like poetry. I am particularly interested in frum poets, especially Jewish ones. The one I feel most at home with is Zelda. I wish I could have met her over tea and cookies. She writes about light, as many poets do. With Zelda there is no taint of heresy or hint of other godliness in her work. People like Colette Aboulker-Muscat and Rumi touch me, as do ancient Japanese Poets like Matzu Basho, as do Christian poets like CK Chesterton and more recently CS Lewis. The list goes on. And yet, they don't speak with a voice that I feel totally comfortable with, the way I do with Zelda. No-one hits the nail on the head like Zelda.

I think I'd have been a chasid of R Yehuda HeLevi had we only overlapped chronologically and geographically. I am a devotee of the Author of the Torah, the best book of poetry/song ever written. Also, all the rabbis who contributed to our liturgy, including the authors of the ever unpopular kinnot and selichot were outstanding poets, who purposely wrote poems - despite efforts to act like it was some kind of accident and we're stuck with all these prayers that somehow seem to be poems. In recent times rabbis and other frum Jews have started to publish poetry again.

Here's one example:

THE IVORY TOWER


(from his website, linked to above, of photography, essays, and poetry.)

my ivory tower
turns out to be
a concrete blockhouse.
can I break down the walls
or will I just keep printing
the same old stationery?
The Ivory Tower.
The Ivory Tower.


More poetry later.

I just watched an Israeli movie called Jellyfish. It's powerful and well made. At the end, to my surprise I discovered that it was co-directed by Etgar Keret, a super-talented Israeli writer. His work can border on (or cross the border of) the morbid and the absurd. This film is fantastical, mythical, poetical, beautiful. If you can't live easily with unanswered questions, awkward silences, the meaning that rests impossibly in words but possibly in the spaces in between this movie's not for you. If you can reverse that last sentence and it suits you once reversed then you will enjoy this film.

There's a new book out called In The Narrow Places. It's the first book I know of with a reflection for each day of The Three Weeks. I like the author's writing (Erica Brown) in general. I hope this will be helpful to me and others. Perhaps it will start a trend (though hopefully full redemption will come before then), Some years back one book appeared with a thought and an assignment for each day of the Omer. Since then I know of two similar works - all helpful.

Which do you want more - to be loved or respected? How do you define those terms? Is either one without the other somewhat dissatisfying to you? (Me too.) Is respect and for that matter love predicated on position or age, or is it possible that it can and should go in all directions? Do we live by - "Who is respected, he who respects others?"

I just came across two nice quotes:

1. Knowledge Talks. Wisdom Listens.

2. Never worry about numbers. Help one person at a time and always start with the person nearest you. ~ Mother Teresa

Today it happened again. Why is that some of the people who like my book most, who I would be quick to gift it to - and offer to, are the people who feel most strongly about paying me for my work.

Here's a contemporary Jewish poet:

A Jewish Poet (Excerpt)
By Yehoshua November

(as featured in The Jewish Week's review By Sandee Brawarsky)

It is hard to be a Jewish poet.

You cannot say things about God
that will offend the disbelievers.
And you always have to remind
someone
it wasn’t your people who killed
their savior.
And Solomon and David are
always laughing
over your shoulder
like a father and son ridiculing
the unfavored brother.
And you cannot entice people
with the sloping
parts of a woman’s body
because you mist always
remain pure.
And every day you have to ask
yourself why you’re writing
when there is already the one
great book
It’s hard to be a Jewish poet.
You cannot say anything about
the disbelievers,
which might offend God.

I am working on a review of a new book of Jewish poetry that I love. The intro of the book says not to excerpt except for reviews. I've committed to reviewing it on another website. So, we'll all just have to wait.

I don't recall if I shared here that I recently discovered that a friend of mine is the granddaughter of my kindergarten teacher, Racheil. It took some clarifying. Soup bowl haircut? Yes. Accent? Yes. Great teacher, remembered forever? Yes.

"Take wisdom where you find it" - Rambam

"As your gas tank approaches empty, you don't sit and get depressed and think it's permanent. You go fill it up. It's the same with life—when you're running on empty go fill your tank with a better thought, emotion, or action and get on with life." — Esther Hicks

I'm not usually one to mix blogging and Facebook, but I got a kick out of the fact that I received a record number of likes (all from people I know) for my comment below:


So cool. Marina now has deli roll @ shmorg



  • Neil Fleischmann Reminds me of a routine of mine about single men and women invited to friends' wedding - in short, the women allow sad thoughts about their own age and odds to creep in and the guys go, "I hope they have those little hot dogs in blankets! I love those!!!"
    3 hours ago · · 4 people

Until a few moments ago I thought that the line was "What a drag it is getting home." It's actually "getting old." You probably knew that. To me "getting home" makes sense because the song is about a house-wives and how they cope-don't cope. The friend who corrected me chuckled a bit, just as I did - and think now that I perhaps shouldn't have - at my friend who thought that another line was "You put the lion in the coconut."

I just discovered Marilyn Nelson in the latest issue of Image. She's interviewed and has some great comments, such as: "I'm one of the lucky ones with too happy a life for poetry." Here's a real deal poem of hers. She's good, and deserves all the praise she gets:

Thank you for these tiny
particles of ocean salt,
pearl-necklace viruses,
winged protozoans:
for the infinite,
intricate shapes
of submicroscopic
living things.

For algae spores
and fungus spores,
bonded by vital
mutual genetic cooperation,
spreading their
inseparable lives
from equator to pole.

My hand, my arm,
make sweeping circles.
Dust climbs the ladder of light.
For this infernal, endless chore,
for these eternal seeds of rain:
Thank you. For dust.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

This Moment - So Beautiful

I'm in the middle of several project-posts. And yet I feel like blogging classically, in the moment. I'm sitting in the basement of the home I grew up in. Last night, and the night before that, I slept in the bed and room I slept in as a child. I even did some pictures on the wall via the light from the side of the house next door - for old time's sake. Last night, just after shul, Shabbos, and havdallah wound down dad noticed that The Blind Side was starting. We watched it together. Dad had already seen it but watched it again with me. What a sweet movie about a gentle giant (and before you say it to yourself or feel compelled to write it here, let me say that it is about other things too). Lately I've been in touch (mostly around the issue/excuse of each of us working on losing weight) with a dear childhood/lifetime friend. I remember him telling me that when he was a kid his father turned to him as they exited the theater, after seeing Bang the Drum Slowly, "Man's inhumanity against man." It's wonderful for me when a movie addresses humanity, I see that as it's job. That reminds me of something a student said to me years ago. He, and others, felt that a teacher was insensitive and inappropriately harsh. He said that he expected more from an English teacher because the point of fiction and English, in general, as a discipline was to increase humanity. Go amazing student! Anyway, I'm in the basement where I used to go to be alone as a kid. They say you can't go home again. I don't get that, because I've gone over and over. Here I am. Paul Simon's new album is available on NPR till it's released on Tuesday. I'm listening now. He just sang, "I loved her the first time I saw her - I know that's a writing cliche..." (Love and Hard Times). Yesterday, the rabbi of my dad's shul announced that my book came out, after having read Gil Student's post about it and linking to that piece in the shul email-bulletin. One dear member of the congregation bought a copy and told me that through the poems he could see into my soul and added, "If you don't mind my saying." Not at all. That's the kind of comment I'm talking about. On Friday afternoon I received an email from a dear friend, which included these heartfelt words: "I'm proud of you for putting yourself out there with the haiku. I know that's not easy to do - and it feels significant. Very courageous, especially after your mother's passing... like sharing a vulnerable, genuine part of yourself with the world. I don't know- it feels connected somehow." Paul is now singing Questions for the Angels. "If an empty train in a railroad station calls you to it's destination can you choose another track? Will I wake up from these violent dreams with my hair as white as the morning moon? Questions for the angels Who believes in angels? I do" I love his winking reference to railroad stations and destinations. I love the whole album. I mean CD. I mean download. Time to go to my apartment; it's waiting silently for me.

Sunday, February 09, 2014

An Old School Blog Post

So many thoughts have been buzzing around my head as I've been leading up to writing this post.  Now that I'm sitting to actually do it, it's harder than I imagined to catch my flying ideas.

If you hear me say I'm extremely introverted, call me on it.  Jung himself said that if someone was completely introverted or completely extroverted they would be an insane person.  Last night I took a brief personality test that said I was less extroverted than most people and that I was a split between introverted and extroverted.  That sounded more on the mark than other tests and my own words that have painted me of a more full force introvert.  Today I went to volunteer.  Let me back up; Sundays can be hard. I forced myself out today. And it felt great to interact with other people.

I went to a Limmud volunteer meeting.  At first I stuffed envelopes at a table with a few other people, and that was okay.  The there was a request to assist with a poster. They wanted a picture of a camera.  I drew the camera. Then they wanted a Shabbat Shalom enhanced with some pictures.  I added challahs and candles and a kiddush cup.  I got positive feedback and then spruced up all of the signs that had been made. Feedback was good and I started chatting with some of the people.  It turns out that the kids of the president of this whole thing went to my school.  And the woman in charge of the posters is the mother of a recently graduated student of my school.  It took me a minute to place the name and to start naming his closest friends.  Then I said hi to a nice fellow who runs hikes and hosts get togethers.  As we were talking a young woman came over and said, I don't know if you remember me, but..." She was my student in public speaking and is involved in reaching out to high school and college kids for Limmud.  We had a great talk. Then I left feeling good, and happy that I was part of something.

Earlier today a dear old friend called me from Israel and we had a good talk.  He thought of me because he was thinking of a student of mine who's now in my friend's school.  I'm honored and touched that my friend calls me from time to time. People say he doesn't call anyone.  Honestly, I don't call him. I'm grateful that he calls me, and in particular that he called me today.

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

It's been a while since I started this post in Barnes and Noble.  I've been reading and writing here.  Had some issues with the internet. I've lost some of the excited euphoria that I had a couple of hours ago when I walked over here on the heels of the Limmud volunteer meeting.  I'm hungry and thirsty and if you know the punchline of the joke that starts like that, yeah- I'm worried about that too, poo, poo poo.

I got a little out of the writing zone that I got into before and want to go back in. I love writing.  it's a passion.  So is learning, reading, studying, anything related to this category.  So what to write about?  Let's see what flows.

I told my dad recently that I missed being part of his Bayside community and he asked me what I meant.  What I meant, which is what I told him, is that for the last bunch of years I had aroutine of going to him every third Shabbos or so.  And I re-connected with the community.  If you search the words "you can't go home again" withing this blog you'll find entries about many of my visits that lasted from Friday afternoon to Sunday afternoon.  They happened about every three weeks, on at least one occasion they happened two weeks in a row. I miss going home again.  Big time.

I was going to write more about what life has felt like since it took a surprising turn back in May.  I was going to write more about my day, may past week, my upcoming week.  I was going to write about my inner feelings.  I'm too hungry for that.  Or maybe I'm just misunderstanding or misdirecting my hunger.

I love sightseeing/book-finding here in B&N.  It's a shame they're probably all going to close in the upcoming years.  But then again it kind of serves B&N right.  They put all the homey little bookstores and now the online world, compared to whom these mega-stores are homey and little, are going to snuff out Barnes & Noble.

I may buy the latest copy of Image.The opening editor's essay references an essay of years ago by Dana Gioia and one by Image's editor.  I recall both pieces. I want to take them in again and maybe write about them.  The theme is poetry and writing and religious poetry and writing and old days versus the presend, etc.

I really need to get some foof in me soon...

Three books that caught my eye on the shelves are Cut Me Loose by Leah Vincent, That Part Was True by Deborah McKinlay, and Sue Townsend's Adrian Mole Diaries (also another book by that author called The Woman Who Went to Bed For a Year).

I just looked up That Part Was True on Goodreads.This review convinced me not to impulse buy it.  But mayvbe I should buy that potato peel book...

This was a perfectly pleasant story about a man and a woman and their correspondence about life and food and how it gives both of them the strength to make the changes they need to make in their lives. I saw a lot of comparisons to The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society, but there was nowhere near that same depth. It was cute but forgettable. Recommended for people who like books with pretty covers.

It is a pretty cover.

I want to write some of the Torah I heard this Shabbos, and over some past Shabboses that I haven't written about.  Rabbi Nissan Alpert said that maybe Moshe's name is left out of Tetzaveh (which includes the command to light this world) specifically to teach that you don't have to be a Moshe to light up the world.  Rabbi Marc Angel cited Rabbi Moshe Lichtenstein who contrasted the tzitz and the choshen. One is solidg gold and singular and is worn on the head.  The other is soft and has many compartments and categories in it and is worn on the heart. On the one hand we have one faith, and the other hand we have many ways of actualizing that faithful life.  Rabbi Angel cited Rabbi Avraham ben HaRambam, who said that it's doubly assur to believe something only on the basis of who said it.  He said it's assur min HaTorah and assur based on sechel...

I must get some food in me. I feel like it's been a while since I did this kind of a blog post.  I'm so glad I did.

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Thoughts On Teaching and Life

Now, it's after Shabbos, Prairie Home Companion is on and I'm recalling when a student told me that her parents were taking her to see the show and they googled it and my blog came up.

Shabbos was wonderful, spent time with some of my favorite, most amazing people- a dear family I've seen (mostly) grow (and sometimes shrink) for many (20+) years.

Someone over Shabbos mentioned how smart a shul was for using in a Chesed day ad the expression "a day of thanks and giving." I thought it was clever.  And then I passed by a clothing store with a flyer in the window announcing another project with the same slogan.

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The above was written on the other other side of this morning, last night.  Now it's 6:20 AM and to the best of my knowledge the next minyan available is at 7:20.

I woke up early, even though I set Snoozester to call me at a more timely time, and when I awoke my clock, still on old time had me think that it was time to get up.  But I was an hour ahead of schedule.

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

As I type, Hashika by Kol Achai plays on my Ipad.  I wish I could find it online and share it with you, it's beautiful.

A couple of months ago I called someone and when they asked where i was I said that I was doing school work in a Starbucks.  They had trouble understanding the concept of preferring not to do work at home, because it's harder to get things done at home. What do you think of that concept? It comes to mind now because I've been out of my home all day, and I like it that way- particularly on a Sunday.

It's almost 7 though and I think it's soon time to go home.  But first one or two more work emails...

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Something went slightly awry with blogger today, so there arew a few posts on top of eachother with pieces from earlier and later together.  This is, in part because of blogger, and my not being able to access some things I'd drafted from other computers.

It's now 8:48 PM and I am about to share information that I don't know that anyone needs to know.  I'm wearing a new white shirt.  And it got a little black spot on it (a smudge that came from a candle I have burning).  So I used my tide stick, and in a minor freak accident I poked a whole in the fabric while trying to rub out the stain.  I don't think I'm comfortable wearing it with this little hole.  Gam zu letovah.

In a lot of posts that I wrote when I visited my dad I put the words "you can't go home again." Originally this was because this seemed relevant, then there came an added reason, so that one day I could easily search and find those posts.  It's been about 6 months since I've been to my father's house.  He's presently staying in my brother's home after being in the hospital and rehab.  Let's all hope for continued improvement for my miracle man dad- Binyamin ben Chanah. I'm not sue that the search thing worked. These are the posts that come up when those words are searched.

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

9:26 PM - Going to call it a night.  I am grateful to G-d for my life, for this night.

Here's the start of a poem, that I've been working on- thinking about my little town:

Today I'll bus it back to Bayside
Bike to Baskin Robins or Carvel
Check in with The Dimes Savings Bank
Sit by Alley Pond with a Rav Kook book

I'll go to a bazaar in The Gold Room
Take a Karate class while I'm there
Visit upstairs where I went to first grade
Even use the Young Israel to pray in...

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Which Reminds Me

j

Sometimes, like this one right now,
I remember to halt and see
how one of these four things
is affecting me -
being hungry, angry, lonely, or tired.

I'm in the Y.U. library. Old time readers may recall that there was a good year that I came here because the home computer was down. Today, the home computer's fine (Thank G-d) (and thank you for asking). But, on my way home from Promotion Day I desired to pause in the library, to pause away from home.

Pause.

A friend just passed by and asked, "blogging?" And I said, "yes." Then I added, "I may be addicted." Then I added "It beats other addictions, like crack." Then I said, "I've tried both so I know."

Nothing like jokes that are in poor taste and not funny. Trust me, I'm a comedian.

I confess to being presently in a hungry and tired state (Michigan?). I will take the fifth regarding the middle two letters of the acronym. Most of my colleagues experienced some form of being up all night last night.

There are things in life that can be done the night before. And then there's test grading (followed by Maude) . Up until college there was no assignment that couldn't be taken care of the night before. Even in graduate school, much could be done on the sacred night before. But grading tests and then computing final grades takes just short of forever. And no matter how early you start you need the night before just to finish. And then you need the day after to finish for real.

Promotion Day is a "nice" idea. The kids come in and you tell them their final grades. There were some precious moments for me. The ninth grader who wrote on the back of her final that I was the best teacher she ever had told me that she wanted me to know that she really didn't write that for anyone else. Then there was a cool tenth grade boy who told me he loved learning life lessons from me and that when he thinks of or learns a life lesson over the summer - he will let me know by email or phone.

Mostly the day was about grunt work. I feel drained. And there's still overflow to finish. Miles to go before I sleep.

Which reminds me that on Tuesday night there was a reception for a teacher who's retiring after 30 years. She recited Robert Frost. It reminded me of a few years ago when the principal had us read an essay by Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein that cited "miles to go before I sleep." The point of the assignment was to be inspired by Rav Aharon's passion. It struck me then, and now again, then Rav Aharon Lichtenstein's biggest fans are not generally fans of the literature he loves.

Which reminds me of the time that my friend bought Cliff Notes (sic) on TS Elliot because Rabbi Lichtenstein quoted him. Unfortunately, it turned out that he'd really quoted CS Lewis.

Which reminds me of the time that Rabbi Lichtenstein cited the philosopher Calvin and the philosopher Hobbes in the same lecture. And the students thought he was talking about the comic strip.

Which reminds me that movies from Comic Strips are usually not so good. Popeye wasn't. Dick Tracy wasn't. Annie was.

Which reminds me of one of the rules of improv; breaking patterns is interesting. Which reminds me that yesterday on NPR there was a story about improv in the classroom.

Which reminds me of when we had an in-service day and one of the options was yoga, and how great that was (*). Which reminds me of how important it is to breathe. Which reminds me that that Police song is not as nice as it sounds.

Did I mention that I'm hungry and tired?

When you're hungry most anything you eat tastes delicious. When I was interning as a therapist I had a client that used that word about experiences. I'd never heard that before. She was schizophrenic and mandated to have therapy in order to get medication. She wasn't a talker. So I asked her to draw. She drew the same picture over and over again; an elaborate gateway.

That same year I saw another client that used to scream at the top of her lungs for the whole session. I let her. The secretary next door didn't like that. My supervisor didn't care. No, really - she didn't care.

In my other internship I had a great supervisor; a mentor and friend. She called to offer me a job one day long after I'd graduated. I didn't take the job. I have a job. Thank G-d. A friend just told me that my work place is lucky to have me. What a nice thing to say - when you mean it.

Is it wrong to say something nice if you don't mean it? I recall back in elementary school in my favorite class we had a discussion one day about what to say if someone asks you if you like their shoes and you hate them (the shoes). There were many answers, but the one the teacher rewarded with his excitement was said by RK - and that was, "They're OK."

Which brings us back to that poem about Nice and Nice's cousins; Sweet, Neat, Satisfactory, and the deadly OK. I'm not sure you can get off the hook with OK today.

Is it true that OK stands for all correct as abbreviated by one of our presidents? You can read about that at Wikipedia, here.

Friday, July 04, 2008

It's Time To Say Good Shabbos

The magnum opus is being spliced and spread out over separate posts. Some of that has already happened. Early Shabbos is approaching. I am tired. Sigh.

What is the purpose of life? How importance in kindness? Toughness? Talking? Listening? If someone comes before you who is not traditionally observant as a Jew, what do you do? What if you're a rabbi or a teacher, what do you do to affect change in others? Can you affect change through being, listening, caring? Can you affect change without getting what being, listening, caring mean? Do those phrases mean something to everyone? Is everyone trying to do those things in their own way?

It is close to Shabbos - but I repeat myself. They say you can't go home again, but you can. Here I am. I'm probably speaking at some point over Shabbos. I'm thinking about the hitting of the rock. Rabbi Yitzchak Twersky's view is that the speaking to the rock would correct the people on their major mistake. The people had trouble getting that G-d provided for them. They thought it was Moshe, the man. By hitting the rock he confirmed their belief that he did things for them, rather than it all coming from G-d. Moshe even used words (as the Rambam points out), saying that it was he and Aharon who might or would get water from the rock). Thus he and Aharon both were removed from their roles, showing once and for all - it's G-d and G-d alone who provides. The point of the staff, which Moshe was told to hold but not to hit with was that the staff always served as a reminder that what was happening was coming from G-d.
Thus the staff was used in the episode of Amalek (according to many) which follows the first time the Jews complained and Moshe took water from a rock. And now again the staff is there.

There's a lot more detail, I'm not doing it justice. Check it out in Amitah Shel Torah,

The bottom line is to realize that it's G-d who's in charge and provides, not man. The people here who say they wished they died with their brothers are referring to Korach and co. That story ends with a snake, a reminder of the first snake that represented confusion between man being man and G-d being G-d. This story comes and attempts to put the issue to rest.

Oh G-d. It is easy to write these kinds of things. May we be blessed to be true avdei Hashem, to accept G-d as our ultimate authority. May we be pure. May be committed. May we truly "get it."

One and Only Queen
please cleanse and purify me
Purify us all

"Don't lose track of time"
Thus I was just reminded
Efshar Letakein

Eyes closed and breathing:
Good Shabbos and May G-d Bless
We need his blessing

Monday, October 02, 2006

With Apologies To Jennifer Bleyer


Motzai Yom Kippur ebbs away and I’ve eaten but I haven’t bentched. Andy Statman plays Wisdom, Understanding, Knowledge, as I write. On the stack table next to this laptop sits the World Jewish Digest, open to page 58. The headline shouts; Jammin’ Genius by JON KALISH. I guess the article about Statman inspired me to put Andy in my CD player – even though I readily listen when he doesn’t make the headlines, which is - sadly - most of the time.

I was once at a Chanukah extravaganza at Nassau Coliseum, not sure why – but I was. And before the Miami Boys and other featured Las Vegas show tune styled acts came out Andy Statman did a couple of numbers. It was tragic – witnessing one of the world’s greatest living musicians being ignored. Matt Glaser is quoted in this new article as commenting that “Andy has an internal sense of doing whatever would guarantee that he would not be commercial.” That only makes me like him more.

On a seemingly unrelated note we turn now to an apology that I feel that is owed to two men who’s names elude me. I’ve been thinking about these men all through Yom Kippur. Every year of my childhood these two men appeared on Yom Kippur in the row in front of me in Shul. My father (HSLABW) always told me to say hello to Mr. So and So and Mr. So and So and to shake their hands (to this day I always move from sitting towards standing as I shake someone’s hand because my dad taught me that it was the correct thing to do). I always looked a bit askance at these men, as not from ours, as “the other.” They were once a year Jews. Who were they kidding? These thoughts filled me, not in words, but in a sensation than ran naturally through my bloodstream. What I remember most vividly is that the one who sat directly in front of me used to always finish Shmoneh Esrei quickly and then take off his Tallis and step outside for a few minutes. That made an impression, drove home to me how unserious he was.

I’m not sure why that man stepping out after every Shmoneh Esrei on every Yom Kippur of every year so resonates with me, but does it ever. I’m going to type until I figure it out. I think it’s coming to me… You see I’m no longer a little boy who thinks that energy never fades and that if we want to we can all live forever. I no longer think that if you’re hair turns white it means you’re old, or that if you need to step out of Shul because your tired or your stomach is acting up or you feel cramped or stifled or even bored that you deserve to be looked down upon. I now believe that these reactions are part of being human, for the simple reason that I‘ve experienced every one of them. And as I feel the need to step out of Shul. On Yom Kippur or on Shabbat of the week of Parshat Tzav, I think of myself pretending like I wasn’t noticing that old man every time. Sometimes I feel the need to step out for a minute or longer, and I feel myself being watched by young eyes, while they deny it even to themselves.

“Can you imagine old age? Of course you can’t… Not even a false image – no image. And no-body wants anything else… Understandably, any stage of life more advanced than one’s own is unimaginable…” So writes Phillip Roth. And it’s not just old age but different mindsets as well. Till we think or feel a certain way ourselves we can’t believe that anyone would ever be like that.

So here I am understanding that some people come to Shul only on Yom Kippur. And though I never did or never will know the names of most such people, they exist. They are as real as I am. These strangers are never as strange as they seem, once you give them some attention. Maybe that’s why we’re warned more times any other exhortation in the Torah to be kind to the stranger – usually with the reminder that we were strangers too. And we will be again. I have felt and will feel again many of the same things that that Yom Kippur Jew that I wanted to disassociate from since I was six felt as well, both in and out of Shul.

While I’m recalling Yom Kippurs past in that blue faced building on 215th Street I think of the time my brother turned to the young man of around our age one row back. It was after the break and my brother looked at the fellow’s shirt and asked him what the stain on it was from. “Tomato juice,” replied said fellow, in the most even keeled tone I’ve ever heard. Conversation over. But for about thirty years now I’ve wondered about the unstated. Did he go home during the break and guzzle tomato juice? Or was this a spot from before the fast? And why does this incident plague me? I guess because it’s another example of how little we really know or understand of the life of the guy sitting on either side of us in Shul. There are specs of hints that announce themselves to us like tomato juice on a clean white shirt. But in the end only G-d knows.

Jennifer Bleyer wrote of her first time in The Carlebach Shul: “I had grown up in congregations where the aisles were used as catwalks during the High Holidays. Here, worshippers were freaks, geniuses, outcasts, and eccentrics—more like members of the tribe to which I imagined myself belonging. One was a former yeshiva student who now favored various Hindu gurus, but still kept Shabbat. One was a Kahanist alcoholic from Transylvania. One got arrested for aiding a runaway teenager and other congregants rallied to help bail him out of jail. Reb Shlomo referred to all of them as "holy schleppers."

My nearest and dearest are all holy schleppers. Years ago I told a friend of mine how there are the guys in Yeshiva who are known as the masmidim, and the guys who are known as the illuyim, then there are the guys who sit and struggle. They learn a little, they get up, leave the beis medrash and go tho the water fountain they return and find someone took their seat, so they get another one, then they go get a tissue… She used to ask me to repeat the description to her and never tired of hearing it. One day she asked me plainly – don’t you realize that I relate to that because I feel that I‘m that person? I didn’t. And I’d never mentioned that my description was based on experience rather than theory.

As Andy's Ramble plays I'm very close to believing that even the most put together person on the catwalk, in or out of Shul, is a secret holy schlepper. As atonement congeals, I pray that we be blessed to be at one with ourselves and each other. As we prepare to schlep through another year, if G-d will grant it to us, let us commit to being gentle in our judgement of schleppers - for we were shleppers in the land of Egypt.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Unchained Blogger Post

Yesterday, I heard Lydia Davis interviewed on the radio and was impressed. She read from a very short story, which opens with her saying that she has a problem in her marriage which is that she doesn't love the composer Handel as much as her husband does. It ends with her saying that she's heard of a Handel therapist in the area, who she plans to check out.

She writes extremely short stories, occasionally stories shorter than their titles, and yet she's also written a novel. Sometimes her short short ones are reactions to translations of artists who write in very long styles. As I listen to her, Paul Auster came to mind. They both worked as translators as well as being masterful original writers. I Wikipedia'ed her and found out that she was married to Auster and has a son with that last name. The other writer who came to mind was Amy Hempel.

By the end of the day I had heard Ms. Davis speak and purchased her Collected Stories which she kindly signed and dedicated for me.

Leonard Lopate is a talented man. I once heard him on a panel about memoir writing. He stole the show. He is an author and talk show host and it was on his show that I heard the Davis interview. My dentist is lucky because she gets to listen to him as she works every day. Then again, everything is a trade off.

I have a gripe against the New Yorker. I subscribe at a reasonable price and yet I have a compliant. There's too much good writing - particularly fiction (the poetry is generally not to my taste) - in it. And the current issue has not the usual one, but eight short stories. it's like standing before a buffet and knowing you can't (shouldn't) indulge in it all.

“Texting and I.M.’ing my friends gives me a constant feeling of comfort,” wrote one student. “When I did not have those two luxuries, I felt quite alone and secluded from my life. Although I go to a school with thousands of students, the fact that I was not able to communicate with anyone via technology was almost unbearable.” That quote comes from this article in yesterday's Times (it's by Tara Parker-Pope who seems incapable of writing any article that doesn't strike me as compelling!) about the effect of technology on people, particularly weens. It opens with this question and comment: Has high-speed Internet made you impatient with slow-speed children? "Do you sometimes think about reaching for the fast-forward button, only to realize that life does not come with a remote control? If you answered yes to any of those questions, exposure to technology may be slowly reshaping your personality." Perhaps I speak only for myself when I say that for me, for one, this does not come as quite a shock.

The same point was made by Judith Shulevitz, author of The Sabbath World: Glimpses of a Different Order of Time, at a recent presentation I heard her speak at. Though she doesn't keep all the halachic details of Shabbat she believes it is a day to unplug. And unplug she does; no cell phones, computers, etc. for Ms. Shulevitz on Shabbos. I must say - though no particular line comes to mind at the moment - as an important aside, that I was impressed by Ms. Shulevitz' sense of humor bordering on whimsy. (As an aside to the aside I'll share a coincidence. I have a poem in a book under a pseudonym. My main reason for using another name for that poem was that it is written in a woman's voice and I thought the majority audience of that book would take the poem in better with a woman's name attached to it. The name I chose to use is Chana Schilowitz). (The book is All of Our Lives (a nice anthology, available online now for the incredibly cheap price of $9.99, and the poem is called As Old As You Are).

On a related note, Marc Fisher conducted a one week long experiment at The Washington Post, which he describes thus: "No Web, period. If you need to talk to someone, do it in person or by phone." Go here to read the story.

Did someone ever make a seemingly innocent comment to you in way that felt insinuating and then the idea got into your psyche. Maybe I'm the only one. As I type I'm listening to Pandora with headphone. I'm at home. There's no other person here. The sound was being muffled by the AC so I switched to headphones. But I can't use headphones at home, alone, without recalling a comment someone once made to me: "But you don't use headphones if you're home and no-one else is around, right?" Implication: there's something wrong with that. And it stuck...
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Someone who's gone through it asked me just the other day at minyan if I've reached the point yet of being sick of running to make minyan three times every day for kaddish. I didn't know what to say so I just said something that came to mind, and that was OK because the person moved on to tell the story of the one and only they missed during "their year." Is this what it's about, a checklist? I guess in part it is. Sigh.
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This morning at minyan another chiyuv had already started when I got there, so there was no question that he had it and was welcome to go on. He very kindly offered for me to take over from Ashrei at the end. At mincha I got to Shul five minutes early and parked next to the amud. A guy walked by me five minutes later and suited up. I asked gently if he was a chiyuv. The answer was, "Yes," followed by, "Do you have a Yahrtzeit?" followed by a well modulated, "Ashrei..." I never knew till January that Kaddish was a competitive sport. Various people have authored books following "their year," perhaps I'll name mine The Kaddish Wars.

I come in peace. I figure it's more of a zechut for mom if I try to be a mench than if I fight for and conquer the amud.