Don't Gel Too Soon

HER BAD MOTHER AND THE STORY OF THE LOST BOY

Read this.  Right now.  The stunningly gifted Catherine Connor (that's her photo)  also known as Her Bad Mother, has shared a remarkable, heart-breaking story.  Although, sadly, it's not uncommon, it's one you will NOT want to miss.  So get out of here -- go read this post.

MOURNING ENORMOUS LOSS: TISHA B'AV, THE TRAUMA OF MEMORY AND THE WISDOM OF JEWISH TRADITION

The lights were out; all that remained were small spotlights where the readers sat.  It was a day of sorrow and mourning, so we spurned comfort and, as tradition dictates, sat on the floor.  In front of the Sanctuary, the readings began: Eichah - Lamentations, the prophet Jeremiah's horrifying account of an ancent time of soul-shattering misery.  Reading it aloud is part of the holiday** but, since I was newly observant, it was previously unknown to me, as was the enormous impact of the dimly lit room and haunting content and trope of the reading.  That first time, just three years ago, I didn't have a clue what was coming -- that night or the next morning, when the readings continued.

Accompanied by a 25 hour fast, this all takes place on the holiday of Tisha B'Av - the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av, to commemorate the multiple horrors believed to have taken place on that day.*

This is a lot of sadness (and foreboding of more to come) to have taken place on the same date.  So it's fair to observe a period of mourning and remembrance.  What happened to me, though, was that the language of mourning is so fierce, so hideous, and in some ways, so applicable to what we see happening around us now, that it is almost unbearable to listen to.  And so, the first time I heard it, I fled in the middle and went across the hall into the childcare room.  My sweet, ridiculously smart friend Aliza, with her infant daughter and unable to join the prayers, was off to the side praying on her own.  In tears, so troubled that I was trembling, I interrupted her prayers, something I would never do otherwise, and demanded to know why it was necessary for us to listen to this.  And to know we'd be doomed to do so every summer.  In her quiet way, she replied that perhaps once a year isn't too often to recall these fearsome times in our history.

At the time, I wasn't sure how I felt about that, but now, I'm, shocked to discover that I look forward to this annual observance, which comes this weekend.  Why?  I guess after three years some of the shock has worn off.  Of course there's more: as usual when I listen to Aliza, I've had to think harder.  One thing I've realized is that this day, ignored by most Jews, is a kind of anchor -- keeping us in place, connecting us, those who came before, and those who will follow. 

I can't trace my family past my grandparents on either side; all my grandparents and their siblings came here years before the Holocaust and any records of their ancestors were lost or destroyed as the Nazis decimated Europe.  That they were Jewish, though, is irrefutable.  Now I find that, although I can't share their stories and traditions, we do share a history.  I realize as I am writing this that moments which commemorate that common history are not just religious, but also family connections.  Our mourning on the 9th of Av honors not just God's anger, which led Him to allow the destruction of the Temples, and not just the martyrdom of so many, but also each individual, unknown person whose DNA is mixed with mine.

I had often protested that we need to honor that which we value as the positive attributes of the Jewish experience, not just the martyrdoms that remind us of our history of suffering, but also the joy and pride our tradition offers.  What I've realized is that we can't forget.. There's much to be learned by what's come before and by acknowledging our connection to it.  And this deeply moving, haunting and humbling tradition is connected to each of us right now, this minute. 

*   With thanks to the OU  Tisha B'Av website :

1. In the time of Moses, the "sin of the spies" whom he sent out to evaluate the situation in the soon-to-be conquered Canaan and who returned with horror stories that questioned God's power to protect the Jews and caused Him to decree that none from the generation who went out of Egypt would be permitted to go into Israel.
2. The destruction of the first Temple under Nebuchadnezzar. (587 BCE  - 3338 in the Hebrew calendar)
3. The destruction of the second Temple under Titus. (70 CE - 3895 in the Hebrew calendar)
4. The Romans conquered Betar, the last fortress of the Bar Kochba rebellion and Hadrian turned Jerusalem into a Roman city.   (135 CE - 3895 in the Hebrew calendar)
5. King Edward I signed the edict that expelled all Jews from England (1290 CE - 5050 in the Hebrew calendar)
6. Jews expelled from Spain because of King Ferdinand's decree   (1492 CE -- 5252 in the Hebrew calendar)
7. The last Jews left Vienna under expulsion orders there. (1670)
8. World War I began  (1914 CE -- 5674 in the Hebrew calendar)
9. Himmler presented the plan for the "Final Solution" to the "Jewish problem" to the Nazi party. (1940 -- 5700 in the Hebrew calendar)
10. Nazis began deporting Jews from the Warsaw Ghetto.  (1942 CE -- 5702 in the Hebrew calendar) 

**  Also, interestingly, quoted in Christian prayers for Zimbabwe,

MARRIAGE, TRADITION AND MY MOTHER'S WEDDING RING

This is the hand of my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.  The ring on her finger is 65 years old.  At least.  I know this because it was my mother's wedding ring, which she wore until she died, and which I have worn ever since.  And now, another generation of our family will wear it as a wedding ring.  It's a joy for me and symbolic of so much: continuity, Amy's acceptance of us as part of her life, her respect for Josh's origins, and, as she readily acknowledges, a love of tradition and history.

When your child decides to get married; it's a big deal.  New configurations must be established as two families converge: new sensibilities, new rituals and traditions.  More important than all of that though is the wish, the hope, the prayer, that these two people, one of whom you have loved with your whole heart since he entered the world and one you have learned to love -- that they will find happiness, the strength to weather inevitable storms, a continuation of the laughter and friendship they so clearly share, of the closeness each feels with siblings and parents, and as much joy as can be apportioned to them.

Seeing this ring, part of my own family since before I was, moving forward in this way, means all those things, stands for everything eternal that we seek and sometimes find.  It's a gift beyond measure to me and to the family we've been and the one we, and they, are still becoming.

E3, FABLE II AND BEING THE PROUD MOM

I've written often about the ways life changes as your kids grow up and become adults.  We are blessed that both of ours have brought us so much joy.  This public accomplishment is really just icing on the cake; moment by moment is where the real wonder comes.  Even so, how could I not post it here?

The man on the right is my older son Josh.  Speaking at E3! (The annual video game trade show in LA) On G4 TV.  About Fable II, a game he has been working on for a very long time.  How cool is that?

IN MY MIND I'M GOIN' TO CAROLINA - KITTY HAWK, ACTUALLY

We bought the kite for the four-year-old in this picture, in his father's arms*   We're right outside Kitty Hawk and all of us are climbing the dune to watch the ("Oh my, it looks just like the very first airplane!") kite take to the air in the same sorts of breezes that aided the real plane 105 years ago in a spot near here.  We've been here on the Outer Banks of North Carolina for 4 days and have established a lazy rhythm, somewhat altered by Wednesday's wanderings not only to a "kids day" at a local kite store but also to the very scene of the Wright Brothers' flight.

Our young friend has been beyond excited.  The kite store was festooned with models suspended above our heads.  The first airplane!  A biplane!  Jets and propellers and passenger planes and military planes and photos and puzzle boxes with still more.  Small children, particularly, it seems, small boys, love airplanes (and dinosaurs) and our young companion is no exception.  It's wonderful to to watch him explode with joy at the small pleasure of a store display.  And then to cross the highway to the dunes and see his own new possession take to the air.  Oh - and to reassure him that the aspiring hang-gliding students one dune beyond will not fly over and tangle themselves in our kite strings.

Nearby is the official Wright Brothers National Memorial; we went there, too.  It's remarkable to see, this plain, very effective museum, marking with simple stones the small distances that set off the revolution that enabled us to move from a flight of 120 feet to the landing of a man on the moon in just 66 years.  Remarkable too to go with this wonderful, ecstatic 4-year-old and his family and wonder, 66 years from now, what their world will be.  How much farther will we have flown and whose ingenuity and inspired curiosity will have taken us there?  Perhaps our young friend will lead his own airborne, or space-borne, leap forward.  One of the great gifts of sharing days like this with little kids is the reminder of all the possibilities to come, no matter how tough or grim the future may appear.  Another, of course, is that it's just plain wonderful to spend time with gifted parents and their spectacular, curious, eager and lively kids.

Tonight we pack up the food and the clothes and the toys and prepare to drive back to Washington in time for a dinner honoring, among others, my husband and me.  Both of the wonderful kite-flying families who joined us here are returning early, surrendering part of their precious beach time, in order to be there with us for the event.  And our kids are coming - the biggest treat possible.  So right now, at 4:30 on a Thursday morning, I'm just sitting in a deserted living room in a North Carolina beach house, counting the blessings of family and friends and every happy memory past, current or still to come -- and wishing, for those children of ours, and our dear friends here, the same pile of wonderful moments we've known and hope to know.  Good morning to you, too. 

*As always, I won't share his name or anyone's identifiable photo to respect their privacy.

CHARMED, AGAIN. AND PROBABLY NOT FOR THE LAST TIME

NOTICE:  YOU MAY NEED INSULIN TO READ THIS - IT IS REALLY SAPPY -- CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED

Right now, I'm crying.  Not just teary, crying.  Right now, the third time I've been to this moment.  It's so embarrassing that until I complete this post I don't even know if I'll ever let you see it.  Why such emotion on a sunny day so close to my birthday?  Over a television show?  The final epsiode of one that went off the air in 2006.  One that's about witches?

If, like me, you never paid much attention to CHARMED, appearing on the now-defunct and youth-oriented WB - about three sisters who are witches and who have witchy powers including, when acting together with the "power of three", to best Ultimate Evil (I know, I know), let me tell you a bit about them.  I've written about them before - when I first found them two years ago and again almost a year ago, after a wedding whose ritual reminded me of theirs, even though in theirs families gather from across the divide between living and dead.  As I wrote then:

TO THE LIGHTHOUSE - LOVING THE JERSEY SHORE -- AND A BIRTHDAY

We went to Long Beach Island, off the Jersey shore, a few weeks ago.  I've been there  often but never before May -- it was still winterish there, hardly anything open and just lovely.  We came with friends for my husband's birthday -- four adults and four little kids.  It's so much fun to be there with little people searching the beach for shells in their parkas and climbing all over the furniture.  We took them to Barnegat Light  -- a 150 year old lighthouse I've loved since I was a kid. 

It was a 20 minute walk in very cold weather, everyone excited about seeing a real live lighthouse.  Somehow anything, no matter how many times you've seen it, looks brand new when you see it with small children.  When it's new to them, it becomes new to you too.

It was, according to my husband, a perfect birthday.  Much of the credit for that goes to the friends who came with us, who wrote and performed a song for him as a gift because "you have too much stuff already" and, in so many ways have taken us into their lives with love.  I just posted a meditation on being a 'fake grandmother" on the SV Moms "over 50" blog, where I'm a new contributor.  It's such a peculiar privilege - hanging out with preschoolers in that easy way that can only happen with frequent contact.

A BIT OF BABY SHOWER WISDOM FOR MOTHERS OF TWO

Well here they are.  My two boys some years ago, on a boat someplace in Germany.  This photo is probably 20 years old; it's from one of many wonderful trips covering territory all the way from Israel to Hawaii.  Each was an adventure, enriched by the presence of these two little (and later bigger) boys, as were all our days. Most visitors to the baby shower know that I'm the sentimental one - not able ever to be as arch and irreverent as many of my sister bloggers.  SO CONSUMER ALERT -- this is mostly a riff on the treat it is to watch your two kids grow, change, interact, fight, become real friends, care for one another and grow up to travel together and meet up to go to concerts.

When I was pregnant with my second son, I was afraid that I could never love another child.  The delight we felt with our first son was so complete that I wasn't sure whether there was room in my heart for another.  That summer, as we awaited his brother's arrival, I insisted that our son, my husband and I - go to the beach to have a last vacation with "just the three of us."  It was going to be tough to get used to dividing my time so I wanted one more golden moment with just one.

It was the year The Muppet Movie came out, and I remember sitting on the little deck outside the beach cabin we'd rented, my son in my lap, playing The Rainbow Song on the boom box we'd brought with us, just about overcome with emotion.  Listen to it - if it doesn't get to you I don't know what will.

"Some day we'll find it, the rainbow connection, the lovers, the dreams and me."  So sentimental but absolutely perfect for my pregnant, hormonal self. 

And then he arrived - this little, amazing, intense infant, and as soon as I saw him I knew all the worry was for nothing.  Of course you can't love an abstraction as much as a little blond sweetie who loves Kermit and Ernie and Bert -- and you.  Once that abstraction arrives though, he's as real and exciting and mysterious and loving as his big brother.  As each of their personalities emerged so did their differences, but each revealed a piece of them.   Each individual talent and temperment and allergy and grace reminded us of the unique treasure that each of them was to us.  So here are 10.5 thoughts on the question at hand - moving from one child to two:

BLOGGING BOOMERS BLOG CARNIVAL #67 - WHAT THE COOL BOOMERS ARE SAYIN'

This message is coming to you from Don't Gel Too Soon blogging HQ (pictured to your left.)  I am fortunate to participate in a Blogging Boomers Carnival - and this week -- week number 67, I'm the host(ess.)
You'll find links and descriptions of posts by all my fellow Carnivalites; they're a diverse, talented group, so knock yourself out.

Gloria Steinem used to say her greatest fear was ending up a bag lady.  For many of the rest of us, it's ending up in a house full of old newspapers and unmatched socks.  Rhea Becker at The Boomer Chronicles has some interesting information on hoarding.

Is popular culture your thing?  I Remember JFK's Ron Enderland has a nice piece about changes in TV as the 70s rolled around, and a show called Hee Haw (you had to be there.)  It's a great slice of media history with a personal touch.

Those two glamor queens at Fabulous After 40, Deborah Boland and JoJami Tyler are all about great spring outfits (and shoes!)  Who says over 40 has to mean out of style?

On a more serious note, John Agno over at So Babyboomer, tell us that "Companies and government agencies have long anticipated the "retirement brain drain"----the tidal wave of Baby Boomers starting to leave the workforce.  Will the place whereyou work continue to thrive when Baby Boomers retire and take their knowledge with them?

**For some reason, this post by the great Janet Wendy of GenPlus just arrived - even though she sent it last week!  So be sure and read it!  In honor of Earth Day/Month/Year, she focuses on how we can have a brighter planet by taking a cue from www.BrighterPlanet.com and their carbon offset visa card.  Their site is a must-visit and read for any responsible earthling.

And from Ann Harrison at Contemporary Retirement, tips on ways to thrive on a more personal level: How are your first aid skills?  Would you know what to do if someone severed a finger?  How about a sprained ankle - would you apply heat or a cold pack?  If you're not sure, head over to Contemporary Retirement and discover the top 10 first aid mistakes.

If you want to give some first aid to your relationships with others, stop at The Midlife Crisis Queen's blog and learn How to be an Adult in Relationships.

Finally, from Wesley Hein, LifeTwo:  Things you can do to start "Aging Backwards" that cost little or no money, according to looking young expert Jackie Silver...

My own post, appearing just below this one, is about the Clinton-Obama race and its relationship to 1968.

Hope you've enjoyed all these great ideas as much as I have....

NOTE: This post was set in advance to automatically go up Sunday afternoon and was created well before the closing days of Passover.

UNTIL PASSOVER PASSES OVER: HARD WORK AND TRUE MEANING

I used to love Passover.  The politics of freedom, the story of courage and redemption, the miracle of the Red Sea and the great songs -- all wonderful.  We had nursery school matzoh covers that the kids had made, lots of stories and family and friends around and a general great time.  Once each year.  And then the holiday was over.  There was no preparation beyond the cooking.   

But that was then.

Now that we are living our kosher, observant life, things are pretty different.  And exhausting.  In the first place, the holiday is two days long at each end with, I think, five days in between.  This year, it started Saturday night at sundown, with the first Seder (the word means "order" and it's a ritual meal telling the Passover story).  There are services Sunday then many people have company for lunch.  We went home to crash because that night there is a second Seder!  This year, since Friday night is the beginning of the Sabbath, that means that from Friday night until Monday night we couldn't use computers, read email, drive, turn lights on and off etc.  There are reasons for it; honoring the commandment to celebrate the liberation of the Jewish people is a wonderful privilege.  It's just so much work!

If you're Orthodox you have to clean the house (well, we'd probably do a spring cleaning anyway) to get rid of any crumbs or other chometz (bread-related stuff). The toaster has to go (crumbs = chometz).  The coffee machine has to go (to be replaced by one that has used Kosher for Passover coffee only.)  You have to swap out all your dishes and pots.  I'm having artichokes on one of the meals I'm serving and just realized I have no ramekins to put the dip stuff into because they are used the rest of the year.  Gonna have to figure that one out....  And I haven't even told you about all the food that's not legit and how you need special spices labeled Kosher for Passover and they don't make Passover curry powder or tarragon or even decent mustard.

Anyway it's a pain.  I began this post in a snit but now it's three days later, the first days are over, everything is done and I feel better.  The last thing, the hanging pot rack, is covered by a sheet (so scenic - here it is.)  Here's why:  all the non-Passover stuff has to either be isolated or out of the room.  It's really tough, and heavy, to take all my fancy Calphalon pots off the racks and down to the basement so this is the solution I've come up with.  The other stuff not in the basement is in cabinets that are taped shut .  The remaining kitchen storage is jammed with Passover-ready tools and foods.  What's not in there is piled on the counters because there's no place else to put it.

I'm in a real work mode so it's been doubly tough to pay respectful, thorough attention to this this year -- only our second living in a kosher home as observant Jews.  But it's done.  And now, I've just been struggling to get past the prep anxiety that was waking me up at night and into the holiday itself.  OH and not end up obsessing about where we're invited for lunch and who's coming to our house and....

Even so, I can still summon the thrill of remembering the remarkable past and recovery the Jewish people experienced - leaving Egypt and so many times since.  (if you don't count that pesky Golden Calf thing.)  And remember that it's our tradition to honor freedom and tell the story every year - like Camelot.

Ask ev'ry person if he's heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Even more than Arthur's though, our story  is informed with a moral depth that can be obscured by all this crazy kitchen-cleaning.  Think of the Ten Commandments - the second time they appear. 

 “‘Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. 13 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 14 but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, you or your son or your daughter or your male servant or your female servant, or your ox or your donkey or any of your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates, that your male servant and your female servant may rest as well as you. 15 You shall remember that you were a slave [3] in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.* 

That's how it gets me.  At each Seder, Saturday and Sunday nights, we read the story of the abuses against the Jews and the miraculous escape - and are reminded that, as we deal with others, we must never forget that we once were slaves too - particularly in our dealings with those who work for or serve us.  Beyond that, concern for others informs the entire service.  This appears near the beginning:

This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry, come and eat. Let all who are needy, come and partake of the Pascal lamb. Now we are here; next year may we be in the Land of Israel. Now we are slaves; next year may we be free men.  You could, of course, complain about the "free men" phrase but that was thousands of years ago, and the sentiment, in my view, transcends gender.

So there you have it.  It is an honor to live with such values and messages even though, my friends tell me, the aggravation arrives every year, with the Seder.   Like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, there's much asked of us, not only spiritually but also logistically.  But, like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, what emerges amid the crankiness is a sense of pride, and meaning, and peace.

*Thanks to my friend Aliza for this insight - she is a true thinker and teacher.