Wake of the Flood

The flooding this spring did a number on our house.  Our downstairs rumpus room got flooded three times, and we have had to tear out the carpet because it got so moldy.  It is in a state of constant disarray and clutter as we are going to wait until next spring to see if the landscaping berm will truly hold back the water.  This will help decide the kind of floor to put in.   It's a giant hassle and too boring to write about.  


But there was a hidden gift of this major headache.  A huge box of baby clothing that had to be "saved."  Tiny tie-dyed onesies that I had packed away to save for my grandchildren got soaked and before they could also get moldy I had to wash them all and re-box them.  There's nothing like folding a miniature batik dress to make you stop and get flooded by memories rather than lake water.

All of a sudden I am back to another time and space, holding this little blue dress in my hands. I'm thinking about building a swing set in our back yard, getting our first dog, Jerry (of blessed memory) and my Grandfather, Poppa Ben, who loved it when I brought my kids to visit. And summers at the shore, long car rides when I played "name that tune" to teach them classic rock, and walks with strollers even when the child had outgrown it, just so I'd have a place for my bag, the extra sweatshirts, and the snack bag. 


I have an urge to get out an old photo album, but I know I'll ignore my work, my lesson plans and my dogs.  I never get anything done once I start scanning photos.


If you have been following along, you know I love my work as an educator.  But the most important work I do is as a parent.  I thought about parenting before I became a parent.  I had long talks with my husband about being consistent, and setting a schedule.


Like all parents, we tried not to curse.  I did a lot better than my husband.  I'd like to say I never cursed in front of the kids.  

The van, which we recently retired.
It helped that it was sold to an up and
coming rock band.  

"But Mom, remember that time when the van caught fire on Route 17 and you had to pull over, and we were standing on the highway and you couldn't get the carseat unbuckled, and then the baby started crying, and your cell phone battery died, and then your pocketbook dumped out all over the place?  I think you said 'shit' that time."  Yes, I think I did.


Each age and stage presents new joys and new challenges.  I have heard myself say, for the past 24 years, "THIS is the best age!  Look at my kid!  Isn't it amazing?"  


I am still saying that about all three of my children.  


I have been extremely pleased watching the way my three children have grown.  Their uniqueness has been a joy.  As a parent, I think that is the challenge: to sit back and say "Let's see who you are going to become," rather than try to mold them into who you want them to be.     


I know that the day I give away this box of groovy baby clothing is a long way off.  


For now, they are nice and clean, folded and in a few cases repaired and ironed.  I threw a few precious toys in there too, just in case we have another flood.


No, for now I'll continue to kvell over who my children are still becoming.  I'll share their joys and let them kvetch over their miseries, and whip up chicken soup when they are sick.  I'll still pack a snack bag for a beach trip, and try to coax anyone around to go to the supermarket with me, bribing them with a box of sweet cereal just for their company.


Okay, that's it.  I'm getting out the photo album.

When they were 8 1/2, 5 and 1 1/2.
They are now 24, 21 and 17.
I no longer attempt to make them match.

"Mom, why are you taking a picture of that dress?"
"Juliet, what have you been doing all day, what's with all the photo albums?"
"Bark, bark, bark"




Hey, it's my 10th blog posting.  I think that calls for a little celebration. 

Giant pixy stix anyone?  

Livin' on a Prayer

Dear Jon Bon Jovi,
   I owe you a major apology.  In an earlier posting, I was somewhat dismissive of you, and now I learn that you are a real mentsch.  Apparently you have had a charitable foundation for quite some time and have just opened a restaurant that allows people to pay what they can afford for their meal.  If they are facing hard times, they can pay back by volunteering instead.  The more I am learning about your restaurant, the more I am inspired.  
   Now, I could just sheepishly remove my earlier comments from my blog and no one would be the wiser... but instead, I'll be a mentsh too and say that New Jersey is proud to have you as our own.
  
   I hope you accept my apology,


    Juliet 


   To the rest of you... if you want learn more about the Soul Kitchen, click here.  Or, to find out about his charitable organization, click here.  And hey, if you want to buy his music, so that he keeps making money so he can continue to do these mitzvot ... great acts of loving kindness... go to amazon.com or itunes and keep the man making a profit.

It's The Time of the Season

This is not as long as it looks.  I used a very large font.  Mostly so I could read it myself.  


Z'man Simchateinu... the time of our joy.  How can you NOT love Sukkot?  For those of you who are perplexed (read: are not Jewish, do not live in New York or did not attend Brandeis) let me explain.  On the other hand, if this feels like Mrs. Nussbaum's 3rd grade class at Temple Beth Shalom Tikvah Emmanuel, feel free to scroll ahead.

Fall painted our backyard with a delicate brush.

Most non-Israeli, Jews who identify themselves as liberal (with a small "l") live by two calendars.  The secular calendar and the Jewish calendar.  Depending on your level of observance, where you live, and your personal choices they may be sitting side by side, or one may be a few pencil marks within the other.  (For me, the two are deeply embedded within one another, since I live in the secular world, but I make my life's work in the Jewish world. I suspect this is the case for most people in what I like to call "the Jew Biz.")  By the end of the summer as the school year looms ahead, we start to think about our big holiday season.  Just like every child knows, the new year does not start January 1, but it starts in September.   That is unless Rosh HaShannah comes at the end of August or the beginning of October.  (Why can't we pick a date and stick to it? Ah hah!  We did!  It happens to be the first of Tishrei without fail.)


(Want more info about the Jewish calendar? Click here to go to Hebcal.com.)


Rosh HaShannah and Yom Kippur are our way of saying to ourselves:  Here comes a new year.  A new chance to start over, make what's wrong right.  Correct what you don't like about yourself and polish up what you do.  I thought a lot about writing a blog entry for these days, but I was too busy processesing them.  This was the first time in years (possibly 20 or more) that I did not have some kind of work obligation during these Holy Days, and I was trying to enter into them completely open.  


(Need a real lesson on the Jewish Holidays?  Try the Reform movement's website URJ.org or Conservative Judaism's website.  Or any of the myriad of choices out there.  Or, a book!)


Right after Yom Kippur,  comes the festive holiday of Sukkot.  That means it's time to build the Sukkah for a seven (or eight) day holiday where we are commanded to "be joyful."  A Sukkah is, by definition, a temporary hut that we put up outside.  The idea is to "sit" or "dwell" in it as much as you can.  Some families eat in there every night, others try for one meal a day, some have sleep-overs in their sukkot (plural of sukkah).  We decorate them, we light them up and bring food out for back to nature dining, unless the weather is just so rainy that it will ruin the food.  

The dog is overseeing the progress.

Almost done...

Close-up of the Eastern Wall.

I love our Sukkah.  We've built one every year since our oldest child was a toddler and asked if we could build one when he learned about it in his nursery school.  Yes, he gets the credit for it.  (That is, for us building a sukkah, not for the entire holiday.  I'm a big fan of his, but let's not overdo it.)  As much as my children have life long memories of beach vacations and family trips to Maine, I know that time spent in the Sukkah, eating, singing and laughing together, is also part of the fabric of their shared family history.

Lulav and Etrog, with Holiday candles. 

So, tonight at sundown, we'll go out there and maybe have our dinner.  The fact is, it's been raining all day and we may just say the Hebrew prayers and retreat to the cozy kitchen tonight.  But we have a week to enjoy this beautiful Sukkah.


So, between all these Jewish holidays, what else is happening in my so-called life?  


I am thrilled but incredibly nervous that Gilad Shalit may be home before long.  I know that they are working out the details now, and we will know soon.  As a teacher, two important topics come to mind to discuss with my classes.  One... that this one young man... the son of every mother in Israel right now... is worth over 1,000 Palestinians.  What does that say?  And two... 5 Years in captivity.  How old were you five years ago?  What has happened in those five years?  What if you had to miss it all?  




My neighbor is having her driveway completely excavated today.  Why?  To put in heat sensors to melt the snow and ice when winter comes. Yes.  This technology exists.  All I can say is this is brilliant.  I applaud her.  Her kids are grown, I imagine her house is paid for, and she can afford it.  Now, on those ridiculous winter mornings, when I am out there, dressed in so many layers I can't bend my elbows, hacking away at the snow with that tool that's likely to take off a toe someday, I know my neighbor can sit in her house, at her computer, reading my blog, and  watching the snow melt off her driveway.

October is breast cancer awareness month... in an upcoming blog I plan to write about cancer (yes, that should be a fun one) and I'd welcome your personal stories if you want to share.  You can email me or send me a note in the comment section below.  


I was very sad, along with the rest of the world, to read about Steve Jobs' death this week.  Here is the quote of his that really resonated with me.  I got it from Cory Booker's facebook page, he quoted it from the famous 2005 speech that Steve Jobs made to the graduating class at Stanford: "For the past 33 years I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?'  And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something."


I wish you and your friends and family a time of joy... whether you celebrate Sukkot or not.  Go and look at those leaves before they are gone.  Bite an apple that was just picked, smell anything cooked with cinnamon, and figure out how to get some hugs from the people you love.

Juliet Comes Alive

I got about 4 inches cut off my hair yesterday.  Nobody noticed.  That's not to say no one saw my hair.  It's a curly mop of mostly brown and some leftover gold from the summer mixed with what my long-time hair-dresser* says is much too much gray.  (She wants me to color my hair.  I'm fine with the gray, but she had a compelling argument... "Everyone else is doing it." ... Where are we?  In middle school?)  I digress.  


I saw several people I knew today when I ventured in to my my town's delightful farmers' market.  Every Sunday from May through October we host this...and today was a glorious day.  Vendors were out in full force, the sun was shining, leaves just starting to change and the weather was perfect, high 60's.  There was a guitar player singing Dylan, Jorma, and CSNY.  When he finished, a jazz quartet set up under a tent.  Everywhere I went, from the soap maker to the pickle guy, I ran into friends, acquaintances,Temple members, and, to my delight, even my Rabbi!  I struck up conversations with strangers, as people are prone to do on days like this.


As I say, no one noticed that my hair was shorter, but everyone has noticed that I seem very happy.  For one thing, it's Sunday and I am out and enjoying a fall day.  This is something that I have not had the luxury of doing in, well, about 30 years.  As a religious school teacher and then long-time Hebrew school director, Sundays have always been my big work day.  I have not had a school-year Sunday off in years, or if I have, then it's because I have something else to do, or I am sick in bed.  So to be enjoying a fall day and buying artisanal breads while listening to Gershwin is just a joy.


Halfway through my life I changed jobs.  


I like change.  I like to try new things.  Just this year I have tried Thai and Indian food.  This very day I baked an apple crisp for the first time.  (None of these were great, but I did try them all!) I now no longer sit at the helm of one synagogue's school, but find myself in a new role, as a consultant and regional educator to many synagogues. I am also teaching more this year.  I love the field of Jewish Education.  You might say I found my calling at a very young age (20) when I started my first job as a Sunday School teacher during my senior year of college.  I adored it, I didn't mind waking up early on Sundays, and I was a natural. Now, 32 years later,  I haven't left this cherished world of Jewish ed, but I do have my Sundays back. 


I am really enjoying the new challenges of these new jobs and the welcome surprises that the change of the schedule has brought me.  I have found some focus and renewed energy on work, family and fun. 


Why did I make this change now?   I had to.  It was time. Maybe that's fuel for another blog entry.  


For now I will enjoy my time and ponder the bigger questions.  How can I use my experiences to help others?  How can I continue to make the ancient Jewish texts relevant to the students who are even more over-programmed than ever?   Is the smoked mozzarella at the farmers market really smoked, or do they use chemicals to give it that flavor?  Should I consider moving away from the 1978 Frampton Comes Alive style haircut? 

Classic Rock

SEPARATED AT BIRTH?

* Sorry about the word hairdresser.  It's the woman who cuts my hair.  It's a dorky word now that I'm typing it, but what else should I call her?  What would she call herself?  Probably a stylist.  I can't even believe the whole first paragraph is dedicated to my hair, though I was sitting at the beauty parlor (there I go again... salon) yesterday musing to myself how much time and how many dollars people, mostly women are spending on their hair.  So I guess one paragraph (well, now two) is okay.  


And an apology here... I just realized after I published this that clicking on the links to hear the music takes you away from the blog, rather than opening up a new window to hear the music simultaneously.   Sorry about that.  I'll work on that.  I do recommend checking out the music, of course.  Just don't ADD yourself right off this page into a YouTube frenzy of classic rock clips and forget to finish reading.