I Never Learned the Song

In my mind's eye, I can imagine my Great-Grandmother, although I never met her as she lived in the mid to late 1800’s in Russia.  Although my Great-Grandfather had good profession, a tailor, it must have been a very difficult life.  As a Jewish family there were extra hardships that they endured besides the reality that life itself was not easy.

My Dad often told me a story about a song my Great-Grandmother made up, a lullaby, that she would sing to her children at night when she put them to bed.  It was a song he knew well from his father…. also a man that I don’t remember as he passed away when I was two years old. 

This special song was sung in Yiddish, the language my father’s family mostly used when communicating. Whenever I would ask, my Dad, who had a really lovely voice, would sing the song to me, translating the words afterward.  Sadly, I never learned the song well enough to sing it myself.  (Not that my singing holds any talent)  The song, my Dad used to tell me, expressed the love of my Great-Grandmother for her children.  It softly conveyed how she wished them good health and strength.  The song went on to say how her love would be with them always and that she would keep them safe with everything she had in her.  All of her children had the memory of this song deep in their hearts forever.

Many years later, my Grandfather left Russia for a better life in “The Land of Opportunity”, America.  My Grandfather had fallen in love with my Grandmother, a woman who worked in the tailor shop of my Great-Grandfather.  Because of their love, he was forced out of the business.  In those days, status was held in very high importance and my Great Grandfather did not approve of my Grandfather marrying someone from what he considered to be a “lower” status.  My Great Grandfather as a sign of his disapproval blacklisted my Grandfather and my Grandmother from working in the tailoring business, the only business they knew.  Since they were unable to find work; they were forced to leave their home.

My Grandfather came to the United States first and opened his own tailor/manufacturing shop in Philadelphia.  He became a “Yankee Doodle Dandy”.  From everything I have learned of my Grandfather, he was a character.   He loved having the biggest, newest car on the block; he adored his children, and loved life in America.  I wish I could have known him.  I am sure that a lot of my Dad’s vivaciousness and warmth came from him.  The one thing my Grandfather perpetuated from his younger days, however, was the lullaby his mother sang to him.  My Dad told me that he sang the lullaby to him, his brother and sister and that when he did, he would have a wistful look, as if he was channeling his own mother.

When WWII broke out, my Grandfather still had family in Europe.  His nephew, Saul, unbeknownst to my Grandfather, was taken to a Concentration camp with his wife and daughters.  My father served in the army in WWII, but he never mentioned whether or not he realized that close family was being held in the Nazi camps.  Of course, being Jewish, there was a feeling of family in general, but of close relatives, I don't know if my Dad knew of them.

As it turned out, Saul suffered unimaginable loss in the camp.  His wife and daughters were slaughtered in front of him, but somehow, he managed to survive.  After the war, he knew he had an Uncle who lived on the east coast, somewhere, in the United States of America.  He found the means to make it here and started his quest to find his Uncle Joseph.

In those days, telephones weren’t in every home…they were in candy stores or other stores down the block.  Children would earn a penny running to someone’s house to tell them they had a phone call.  Saul took any job he could find as he searched for my Grandfather.  He worked his way along the East Coast calling every Joseph Snyder along his way.  He searched and searched as he took various jobs, moving from area to area.  He had learned the importance of family and needed to belong to one once again.

Finally, unfortunately I never learned how long it took him; Saul called the right Joseph Snyder.  Now, my Grandfather had “made-it” by his standards.  He had a successful manufacturing shop and felt like a wealthy man.  He didn’t know of any nephew that he had, let alone one that had been forced to suffer such horror as Saul did in the Nazi Concentration Camps.  (I remember seeing the numbers on Saul's arm, the "branding" of the concentration camp was with him his entire life.)  When my Grandfather was told there was a call for him from someone claiming to be his nephew, he was skeptical, to say the least.

Thankfully, my Grandfather took the phone call.  Saul must have told him all the names of his family in Russia, many of whom my Grandfather knew and many he had never known.  My Grandfather thought this could be some type of swindle…. he wanted proof, somehow some proof, that Saul was indeed his nephew.

It was then that Saul said, "I know something no one but Mishbukha,(family) would know, something that can make you feel sure I am who I say I am."  With that said, he started singing the lullaby that my Great-Grandmother had made up so many, many years ago in such a different world.  After hearing the first few lines of the song, my Grandfather joined in and together they finished the well loved lullaby.  He knew, from that miracle of a song, that Saul was his nephew and Saul was welcomed into the family from that day forward.

Before my Dad passed, I wish I would have learned to sing that oh so special lullaby. I can hear my Father’s voice, gentle, loving, but I don’t remember any of the words because it was more of a melody to me as the Yiddish was something I never learned.  My Dad’s sister, my Aunt Elsie, also knew the song and during one visit to her at her home on the bay, she sang it to me and my husband…. getting that same look in her eye that my Dad did.  They must have heard their father’s voice in their heads, as he heard his mother’s voice in his.  But, they learned the song and kept it going. 

Writing this blog is my way of keeping that very special song alive.  I may not know the words, but I understand the emotion of my Great-Grandmother ~ wanting to keep your children safe…and look how that song ended up keeping her grandson safe in some way in the end ~ helping him find his Uncle. 

I will always regret not learning the lullaby, and there is no way I could ever learn it now as everyone who sang it is gone.  Always take the time to learn from those you love while they are with you.  I will always wish I had learned to sing my Great-Grandmother’s song ~ I hope this blog honors her and in some way keeps her song, and her love, alive.

  

There is no war on Christmas ~ But there is the Massacre of Thanksgiving!!

As someone who works in the retail business, in a store where Christmas music has been playing for three weeks already, (and it is still two weeks before Thanksgiving) I can guarantee you there is no war on Christmas!  We have an entire half of our store completely outfitted with everything for the Christmas holiday, (we have one tiny end cap for Chanukah, too~).  The carols are playing, we are collecting “Toys for Tots” and our customers are busy buying everything from little stocking stuffers to multiple Christmas presents.  But, are there decorative turkeys, autumn leaf placemats, one pumpkin, nut, or fall decoration for sale for Thanksgiving which is next week ~ unfortunately, no.

For those in the media and the right-wing lunatics who every year proclaim to be battling a non-existent war on Christmas….what have you been doing while Thanksgiving has been completely massacred?  Why are you so upset when someone says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”?  There is SEPARATION of Church and State in the United States of America and not everyone who stands for the Pledge of Allegiance or fights for our country is Christian!  But, EVERY American should have the day to celebrate Thanksgiving and our pride in our country!!

Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday.  Although the pilgrims certainly weren’t good guys…. the thought behind the holiday as it is now, giving thanks, is truly beautiful.  The smell of the turkey cooking, the anticipation of the family being together with the knowledge that we COULD be together because EACH of us had the day off, was so special!!  To have one day, one  special day to share with family and friends ~ to enjoy a lovingly prepared meal and be thankful for all we have….THAT is a beautiful gift.  But today, as with so much of what we see and hear, it seems greed has become THE strongest American virtue.  Making a profit trumps all things.  This is the worst kind of greed because it is not the greedy themselves who are forced to leave their families and go to work on this one day that used to be sacrosanct, instead it is the lowest paid of all who have to give up their holiday so those greedy CEO’s and stock market investors can lounge at home with their families while squeezing every possible penny out of  the Christmas holiday which they claim to revere and honor. 

The workers of Walmart, K-mart and Target have no choice but to lose their jobs if they elect not to work on Thanksgiving.  It’s an “all hands on deck” attitude…well, unless you work for the corporate office that is…...  These low level clerks don’t get that one day to enjoy dinner with their family as they used to back before greed became an honored trait.  Thanksgiving used to be a special day, a unique day in that almost EVERYONE had the day off,  except for essential life and death workers.  Stores were all closed.  Now, on this Thanksgiving, thousands of minimum wage workers will be standing behind the counter at your local Walmart, so you may purchase a gift that could absolutely wait until the next day.  It’s bad enough that some of us have to be at work at ridiculously early hours for Black Friday, that stores need to open at 4 or 5 AM to suck every dollar out of that made-up shopping holiday, but, okay, that’s part of the deal.  However, being forced to give up Thanksgiving itself? That’s shameful.  And, it’s shameful not only for the workers but for the others on such tight budgets that they absolutely need to go shopping on Thanksgiving to get the sale that they need to afford Christmas!  If the sale was the next day….they could stay home with their families, too!

To those “patriotic” right-wing warriors fighting a non-existent war on Christmas, yet they haven’t even mentioned the destruction of our truly American holiday of Thanksgiving, you are hypocrites!  Imagine if workers were forced to work on Christmas day?  The horror!!  Yet so many of us would work on that day voluntarily as it has no special meaning to us ~ believe it or not! Yet ALL of us, as Americans, should have one day to come together and give thanks for all the good, all the love, all the compassion and joy that we hold so dear.  Why not fight for that?  What is needed more in this country now than a day to come together as Americans, not Republicans, Democrats, Christians, NRA members, etc?  Where is the outrage at the destruction of our National Holiday of thanks?  Why doesn’t Sarah Palin write a book (.....well, put her name on a book written by someone else) on that?

Thanksgiving wasn't even given the respect of a war; it was simply decimated with no cry, no outrage, and no thought.  The humungous flag of greed waves triumphantly in the Autumn wind, with no books, no articles, no fight, we have all simply surrendered.

Thanksgiving is a warm, beautifully conceptualized holiday with meaning for every American.  We truly do have so much to be thankful for, from our freedom to push the ridiculous war on Christmas, to our more worthy desire to help and support our fellow Americans and our fellow friends around the globe.  Whether in times of special need or just day to day kindness, we are here for each other.  I am proud and grateful for those IN our government who are trying their best to do well for all of us….even those who fight so vehemently against them out of misinformation, fear and hate. 

But most of all, Thanksgiving is beautiful because it is still a day to be celebrated with respect for what we stand for as Americans.  I would hate to believe that what we now stand for is quarterly profits above all else. Thanksgiving should be a day to spend with those we love and care about, a day to appreciate all the beauty and meaning of our lives; could there be anything more important?  Can't that sale wait one more day?

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!  I hope you have the day to enjoy and cherish your family and friends.  I know I am very thankful that my company is closed for the holiday, even though we are retail.  To the owners of my company, I say thank you. To my family and friends, you know I love you and I look forward to sharing the holiday weekend.  I am so thankful and so honored to have the day to appreciate life as an American and I hope to bring that gratitude to every day throughout the year.  That should be something we should all fight for ~ let’s not let this be Thanksgiving’s last stand, Thanksgiving is so much more than the kick-off of the holiday season.

Enjoy!

The Only Way Love Works is By Giving It

You can’t bank it.  You can’t hold onto it and save it for a rainy day.  In reality, there is no need because it is an infinite resource, refillable only when offered.

Where I work, we are collecting for St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital this month.  It is a wonderful charity.  Although it’s beyond tragic when a child is ill, it is almost unimaginable that in a wealthy country such as the United States, (Yes, we are still wealthy), it is sickening that some families struggling with a seriously ill child also have to worry about paying for their care.  But that’s another subject.

Back at the store, we began collecting for this wonderful charity on October 1.  No store in our chain of stores collected before that date.  Our store manager was taking care of our very first customer on that very first day and he asked if she would like to donate to St. Jude’s.  She looked right at us and started to complain that she has been giving in every one of our stores for the past two weeks and that she is tapped out.  Now, we both instantly knew she was a liar.  She couldn’t have given in our store or any other one of our locations.  But, we smiled our polite smiles, gave her the change she was owed and she walked out.   Although we both knew the woman was lying, my Manager and I looked at each other and we felt sorry for her, instantly sorry.  She looked so miserable, so unhappy.

Now, it is October 17 and I have to say most customers are more than happy to donate a dollar, some, even up to $5 or $10.  They smile, they talk of how thankful they are that their children are healthy or how they have gone through a tragic loss of their own.  Or, they don’t say anything but their eyes are happy as they fill out the gratitude card (which is what I call it) with a name of a particular loved one.

This started me thinking.  Why is it that those who give seem so much happier than those who refuse?  I have been mulling this over in my mind since the collection began and have come to the realization that it is love.  People who are filled with love want to give it.  Giving makes them happy and refills the love in their heart instantly, and that love is reflected in their eyes.  Giving a dollar, or even $5 in the community where I live is not a hardship for most customers.  But it is particularly exciting when I ask a teenager, who I think is going to turn me down, give. 

There was one teenager that truly stands out in my mind.  He walked up to the register with his backpack loaded, heavy and he was buying an energy drink.  It was a particularly warm day in October and he looked over-heated.  The energy drink he wanted cost about $2.  I rang him up and asked if he would like to donate to St. Jude’s.  He looked in his wallet and only had the money needed for his energy drink.  But, he didn’t say no.  He asked if I could stop the sale, which I did.  He then put the drink back and took at 50-cent water instead.  The difference, he donated.  I told him what a wonderful person he was and he told me that it was selfish.  The water was healthier AND he could help someone else.  His eyes were smiling.

There are such good people in this world.

This brings me back to love; love for our fellow human beings, whether we know them or not. 

Last night, I was watching a talk offered by the Dalai Lama on Netflix.  He was talking about compassion, about love, about how there is a oneness in this world that WE, ALL the people are a part of.  Naturally, there is also a small we…groups of people who lump themselves into particular identifications: Jews, Christians, Muslims, Americans, Asians, Blacks, Whites etc.  But really, all of these we’s make up the WE.  Until WE see the humanity in each of us, we can’t see the humanity of any of us.

The people that are filled with compassion and love that I see in the store; they certainly seem happier.  Perhaps they were given unconditional love from the time they were small, so they don’t worry about it being finite.  These people build happier homes, happier communities, and happier lives – and that happiness spreads. 

Perhaps that first customer who lied about having given before, maybe she was brought up in a loveless home.  Maybe she has always felt she needed to struggle to get any affection.  Maybe she is so miserable and lonely that instead of realizing that holding onto her love, she is losing her ability to receive it.  I feel sad for her and for all those who are so stingy with their humanity.  I don’t mean she or anyone has to give to be a loving person.  I know we are all asked to give to different charities all the time, and there are times when I say no because I just can’t at that time.  But there is a difference between not giving because you can’t and not giving because you don’t sympathize with those in need, or feel that you will be less if you give.

The Dalai Lama in the documentary last night said, “Compassion is Love made visible”.  When WE are compassionate, WE fill the world with the love that is so very needed.  Perhaps if WE just let our compassionate nature out, those who weren’t lucky enough to be brought up in loving homes will receive that love from society.  They will then join the compassionate ones and love will expand even more.  Wouldn’t that be a wonderful world!!

Since distrust and suspicion cause so much suffering in the world, and the cure for both is love, it may sound ridiculous and simple, but for one day…just be love.

Like John Lennon said in his most beautiful song, “imagine”!

Have a love-filled day!

It’s so Good Being Part of This Story

Life happens day-to-day, minute-to-minute.  Like the saying goes, the days go slowly but the years pass quickly.  Well, the years are passing very quickly.

Today is actually very close to the anniversary of my husband and my first date, July 24^th, 1978.  On that summer evening, I remember I didn’t feel very well, but didn’t want to cancel for fear that he would take it wrong and assume I didn’t want to go out with him.  So, with my stomach in knots, I got dressed, took some medicine for my stomachache, and off we went.

Our first stop was a restaurant in Narberth.  It was a very fancy restaurant and I remember sharing a peach melba, a dessert I had never ordered before or after that time, even though it was very delicious! After dinner, he gave the parking attendant the ticket for his car and I noticed his shirt collar was sticking up over his jacket.  Without thinking, I straightened it and caught a glimpse of a warm twinkle in his eye. 

At that time, David belonged to a private club in Center City Philadelphia, The Second Story. From dinner we headed to the club to do some disco dancing.  Yes, it was that long ago…

During one dance in particular, with the smoke billowing up on the dance floor around us, David twirled me and the thought popped into my head, “this is the guy you’re going to marry’. 

Three weeks later we were engaged.  Yep, three short weeks.  But, in those three weeks we saw each other every day.  We talked for hours on the porch and we laughed and confided in each other all our hopes, fears, dreams and goals.  It was a magical time.

That was almost 35 years ago.  Hard to believe that so much time has passed.  Thirty-five years!!  In those years we have had the privilege of sharing life!!  From buying cars, furniture and houses to every mundane daily chore to the ultimate joy of raising our two amazing children. It is together that we have walked, crawled, run every step of the way.  We have beamed with pride from the time we first knew our children were conceived, we have worried about them, cared for them, played with them, watched over them, thoroughly enjoying every moment with them, up to and including this present time when we are so very proud of who each of them has become!  Now, with our daughter planning her wedding and our son earning his PhD, we look at each of them and feel an over-powering love - so honored and so very proud of them. 

Together we have moved from our cute, first apartment to our first house where our daughter was born.  From that home we moved to another where our son was born and from there we moved to our present home.  We worried, with each move, could we afford it? We worried if it was the right time.  Then, we would get excited about the new hopes and new experiences to come!  

Together we decided when to put in our pool, go on vacation, redo the kitchen and put in a patio.  Together, when my father became ill, we invited my parents come live with us in what was built and lovingly called, "The Edifice".

Together we survived too many tragic losses.

As my Dad's illness became worse, when he suffered with his strokes, we would run down and be with him and my mom while we waited for 911.  I would hold my Dad up so he wouldn’t choke and David, many times, would pick him up from the floor if he fell. 

When we decided to have my Dad’s final days in the house that had become his home, too, hospice installed his bed in the living room of the Edifice.  When I woke up for some reason, in the middle of the night, right at the time my Dad passed, it was David who heard my Mom calling up the steps while I was in the bathroom.  I will never forget the look on his face when I walked out and he told me we had just lost my Dad.

Although Dave and I purchased our first dog, Pumpkin, before the children were born, it was as a family that we loved her for so many years.  After the sad day when Pumpkin was put to sleep, it was as a family we chose our little Popcorn.  Then, so many years later, it was Dave and I, who had to take our cute little Popcorn, who was so very, very sick, for his final ride.

When I was laid off from my company and lost a nice paying position, ending up working for just a few dollars more than minimum wage, Dave was right there to tell me it would be okay.  He was supportive of the happiness I found in my part-time retail job, never once complaining about the tighter financial situation we were in.  

Most days slip by, the lucky, simple days, with dinner, tv and phone calls, some days a bit of illness comes in and some fun days consist of beautiful cruise holidays.  But, no matter if the day is ordinary or not, Dave and I have shared them.   We have fought with each other, loved each other, and yelled at each other, at times, we probably thought we couldn’t stand each other, but through it all we made our way through.   Our next stage, the “empty-nester” stage is here.  I am looking forward to sharing so many more experiences with my wonderful husband.  He has seen me at my worst and at my best and he is always there beside me.

There are no guarantees in life.  No one knows what the days, weeks and years will bring, but I can tell you one thing, standing at this vantage point with the same person who loved me when I was 20, the man who has been with me every step of the way, good, bad, ugly, whatever, means the world.  The confidence that I have, the strength that I gain from him makes me the richest woman in the world.  As we look forward to years to come, hoping for the best, and we look back on the years we’ve shared, I feel so fortunate.  There is nothing as special as standing together, after all this time, and knowing that my husband and I have built a beautiful life, one I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world.

Our song, by Englebert Humperdink, Enjoy!!……. 

     http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FShY6beTu5g

Only Love

It has been awhile since I’ve written a blog, but I just couldn’t until now.  My usual blogs revolve around life events, things that strike me at a particular time.  The last few weeks, every time I sat down to write, I found myself writing about my dog, Popcorn, who my husband and I had to put to sleep a few weeks ago.  However, I didn’t want to sit and write about that experience as it was so heart wrenching. But, it seems I have to, as until I do, I can’t seem to write about anything else at all.

How do you ever know if you did the right thing?  I don’t want to focus on the sadness and the guilt I still feel, but it’s there.  I had hoped that Poppy would pass naturally, without any intervention, but that wasn’t to be.  Everyone who saw Poppy the last few months told us it was time.  But, he didn’t cry, didn’t complain, so how do I know for certain that he was really suffering?  My husband and I kept putting off the thought, hoping for divine intervention.  Finally, after seeing him walking into walls and constantly starving because, although he ate like crazy - nothing stayed in him for too long, we had to believe he was not happy.

The weeks since that sad day have passed and even though I still look for him at the top of the steps when I come home and sleep with my legs bent because he always slept at my feet, I now know he is not going to be there.  It’s funny how one tiny ten-pound dog can take up so much space in your heart.  How one tiny animal that had long since ceased been playful and bouncy, is missed so very much.

Poppy’s passing marks an end to one era of my life, the era of a house full of people and busy goings on.  But, as they say, one ending leads to a new beginning.

No one knows where the next minutes, hours, days, weeks and years will take us, but we all have hopes that the future will bring good times.  This week I learned that an acquaintance, someone my family has grown to respect and appreciate through the last 13 years even though we only knew him professionally, died suddenly.  When I found out, it was as if I was punched in the stomach.  I just always assumed Jeff would be there to book our family cruises and call with questions, which he would answer, in his soothing, helpful voice. Last week at this time he was probably heading to his travel agency…….. 

These recent jolts have led me to realize how lucky I am to have so many wonderful people in my life to lean on, confide in and sometimes even share a hug.

As time moves on, we have to go with the flow, the stage, the scenery, they change, but hopefully, the play continues. As the coming change in scenery is approaching, we are forced to clean out and throw out so much that has accumulated over the years.  What will we find as we clean out?  Well, so far, I have uncovered old family videos and spent hours listening to my Father’s voice, something I haven’t heard outside my own head for 3 years.  My Dad, my nephews Joel and Scott, my Aunt Elsie and my Aunt Anita…my Grandparents…great aunts, people that were such an integral part of who I am yet who have passed on…. hearing and seeing them in the videos this week was a deep reminder of all that is so precious, all that really matters ~ loved ones, both family and friends, and the willingness and opportunity to share good, fun times together.  We always make time for the sad times, we take off work for funerals…. but, for good times?   Taking time for good times – THAT is the trick and those are the memories that live in our heads. 

Listening to the young voices of my children, their laughter has brought smiles and happiness.  Watching these videos is life affirming.  We all pass through this world; the goal is to make a positive impact and mean something special to those you love and care about.  Things are truly meaningless, you could own the most beautiful car, have the loveliest of homes and go to the most expensive restaurants, and believe me, it’s all fun and great and I hope to win the lottery sometime ~ but, I wouldn’t trade anyone in my life for any of these ‘things’.  I always remember my Dad telling me his words of wisdom when I was little and spilled paint all over the carpet in his bedroom…”Sweetheart”, he said, “never cry about things ~ only people deserve your tears.”  My Dad also told me, “If you’re worried about money, that’s good, because it means you have no REAL worries.”

My Dad was brilliant.

So, now, on this quiet Friday morning, a Friday after my Mom’s 86^th birthday, I am thankful and hopeful as I reminisce and appreciate not only all who have meant the world to me yet are no longer here but also I will make a point to let those here now know I appreciate them with all my heart. I will hope for good health, happy times and safety for those I love and cherish and yet not rely on hope that they know I love them with all my heart ~ I will tell them.

Enjoy the day, take care of yourselves and please, let’s take care of each other ~ life is fleeting and it is the good we do that lives on, not the things we buy.  To Poppy ~ thanks for all the years of love.  You were the greatest companion and brought only love to each and every day!  Your loss may hurt today, but I wouldn’t trade away the hurt because of all the years that the joy of your presence made my heart smile.

I am sorry that much of this blog has been rambling thoughts, but it is just how my brain has been these last few weeks.  My main thought through all of this is only love ~ it is truly all that matters in life.  Love each other and be thoughtful of each other, the rest is meaningless.

The Seesaw that is Life

A young woman is sitting behind a huge desk in the lobby of the nursing home.  She has a big, beautiful smile, as she seems delighted to have someone to welcome.  My husband leans down and signs the visitor book as he notices that his father has been there since 10 am this morning, it is now 6 pm. 

My mother-in-law was placed in this facility about a month ago when her Alzheimer’s reached a point where my father-in-law, at 89 years old, simply found it impossible to properly care for her and protect himself (and her) at the same time.   One evening, when my father-in-law refused to take her on a fool’s errand, one she had imagined in her Alzheimer’s state, she attacked him with her cane.  The police were called and the last few years of getting by, of making do and getting along…they were blown away.

My father-in-law is a mellow man.  Actually, until my mother-in-law became ill, he never really spoke much at all.  I was always amazed at his silence and just assumed it was his way of coping, getting along and keeping the peace.  But, in reality, I think he was just deeply in love with his wife and wanted to please her.  My mother-in-law was a strong woman; I don’t mean to speak of her in the past tense as she is still here physically; yet mentally she is no longer strong.  Alzheimer’s and medications have left her docile.

For a bit over 63 years my in-laws have been married.  The balance that such a long-standing marriage demands has become more and more obvious to me as my marriage is now half way through its 33^rd year.  In order for a couple to remain together, roles are taken and kept and as long as things remain in their usual pattern, there isn’t much change.  From an outsiders’ viewpoint, my in-laws marriage had a unique balance in that my mother-in-law made the plans, the rules, and held the upper hand while my father-in-law went along so as to not upset the apple cart.  I am sure that if something truly mattered to him, he would have spoken up, but, for the most part, his sanity and his peace were enhanced as long as my mother-in-law was happy. 

When my mother-in-law’s Alzheimer’s became more and more evident, the balance gradually shifted.  As my mother-in-law grew more silent and became less capable, my father-in-law grew louder and took on more responsibility.  The balance was maintained; only the seesaw was heading in the other direction.  It took for my mother-in-law to get so low that no amount of balance could be maintained, for outside forces to be needed and for the time on the playground to come to an end.

Now, my father-in-law sits with my mother-in-law in the nursing home most of the day.  He keeps her company until he just cannot sit anymore.  He comes to our house for dinner or takes himself out, then goes home.  It must be a very odd feeling for him.  He must feel a mixture of loneliness and relief.  Loneliness for the wife he knew and loved all those years, yet relief in the lifting of the burden and the fear that comes from caring for someone who has lost her ability to think clearly and is a potential danger to all around her.  After all, the fire department was called twice as small fires started in their apartment because she forgot and left something to burn in the oven.

Watching this transformation these last few years, a transformation that I have mentioned before, is in many ways (of all things) a life affirming reality.  When, in a previous blog I wrote that one of the nice things about Alzheimer’s is that my mother-in-law forgot she never really liked me, I meant it.  The wall that she built, from the time my husband told her we had decided to marry until the time that her illness became evident, collapsed.  I tried very hard to knock down that wall in the beginning of my connection with the family, but after years of watching the wall get ever stronger, I simply gave up.  Yet now, the wall has vaporized, with only the indentation left on the ground where it once stood. The indentation is the memory of the years of hurt that once existed, but there is no longer anything there to push the buttons.

Life changes.  My children are grown, my father passed away over three years ago.  With each sunrise we step ever so closer to the next stage of life.  That next stage had always been filled with excitement and promise in my mind.  From teenage years to college years to young married life to having babies, then to enjoying the beautiful people the babies grew to be…each stage was filled with light and laughter for the most part, and for that I am eternally thankful.

What will this next stage bring?  I see my father-in-law and how he has so drastically morphed into a new person, at 89!!  Although his transformation has grown out of hardship and necessity, he has still come into his own.  I am sure he would gladly revert to the introverted, silent man with the happy, forceful wife if given the choice, but the choice is not an option and so he has adapted.

There is much to look forward to, I hope, in the years to come; with laughter and love and as our family expands through my children’s relationships.  I look forward to weddings and grandchildren and vacations and new homes, G-d willing.  I enjoy the families that are becoming an ever important part of my own – the parents and families of my children’s significant others.  These beautiful people I now consider family!  Who would have guessed I would have family in Colorado and Connecticut?!  These new family members have grown very important to me.  I am so thankful, so grateful that we all feel so instantly attached.  I am so extremely honored to be included in their lives.

Because of this, it is with great optimism, love, promise and warmth that I am looking forward to this next stage in life.  The more the merrier!!  As the seesaw of life moves, I believe the trick is to enjoy each and every vantage point, each changing view as it happens and go with the flow.

The days may go round and round like the carousel, but the ups and down of the seesaw are the years.  In either case, hold on tight and never let go of those you love.

Two More Days of Passover.........

Two more days left of Passover; two more days of eating Matzos (which are a lot of Weight Watcher points by the way), and other assorted matzo derived products.  Two more days of celebrating the freedom of my ancestors, a freedom from slavery that we relive through the telling of the story of the exodus from Egypt before we can eat dinner at our Seders - a freedom we then continue celebrating by eating unleavened bread and other assorted Passover approved, dry foods for eight days.

I keep Passover my own way.  Any religious person would laugh at the way I keep Passover – I don’t eat bread, cake, cookies, crackers, etc.  – In other words, I refrain from eating anything obviously made with flour (oh, except matzo).  Since I am the only one in my house who keeps it in any fashion, I have bread in the house, which automatically means I am not keeping it, according to any normal Jew.  I do not change my dishes; I do not scour the house.  I am odd and apparently not very clean!

I keep Passover, my way, out of respect for my heritage, I keep it in order to challenge my discipline, and myself and I keep it out of a love of tradition.  I keep Passover, my way, because it is part of who I am. However, the fact that I continue to keep it, logically, makes absolutely no sense in the larger picture, as I don’t believe the reasoning for it makes any sense at all.

To those who don’t know, the reason Jews refrain from eating leavened bread this week, it is to remember that when our forefathers were freed from slavery in Egypt, released from bondage, they had to flee quickly and did not have the TIME for the bread to rise.  So, they gathered what they could and exited stage left at lightening speed.  (Jews moving at lightening speed?)

Time, they didn’t have time.  They had the ingredients, just not the time.  So, how do we as Jews celebrate this lack of time?  We celebrate it by spending an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen.  There are Passover cakes and cookies that take tons of time to make, they rise, but they are okay to eat!  We eat matzo, which is flour and water, so we had the ingredients…now how does this make any sense to anyone? 

Twenty-five years ago, when I was just pregnant with my son and very aggravated that the matzo wasn’t sitting extremely well, I remember talking to a religious friend of mine who I respect immensely.  However, in the midst of our discussion of the holiday, which he deeply loved, I couldn’t contain myself any longer.  Maybe it was the hormones, but I just couldn’t keep from expressing how weird our celebration of this particular holiday seemed to me.  I told him that Christians have MUCH better holidays!!  Christmas, they decorate their homes with lights, yet Chanukah is the Festival of Lights so we light a candle!  On Easter, they get through Good Friday, the day Jesus was crucified, and then they celebrate his coming back with chocolate, with bunnies, with colored eggs and fun!  They decorate baskets and give sweets and toys!  They don’t wallow in the horror of the crucifixion; they celebrate the joy of the resurrection!  If Jews celebrated the holiday of Easter and all it encompasses, we would have to suffer for a day, maybe fast, before we would set our alarms early and have to rise at dawn on Easter Sunday! 

But what do we Jews do to celebrate being freed from slavery? Are we free on this day to eat whatever we want?  After all, we are now free!!  Do we have a joyous celebration; maybe even serve something otherwise forbidden, like a bacon cheeseburger?  No, absolutely not, we, in our infinite wisdom of holiday celebrations, continue, for eight LOOOOONG days, to eat cardboard (otherwise known as matzo).  How do I prove Passover foods are not great? How many people do you know that eat Passover cakes and cookies AFTER the holiday, how many make them year round?  Also, how many Christians seek out matzo products compared to how many Jews look for a good Zitner Coconut egg?

Now, I have to say that when I was growing up, my family was not very religious and our Seders consisted of having Matzo on the table and serving gefilte fish as an appetizer.  We didn’t have a long retelling of the exodus from Egypt, my Dad would say, “We’re free!  Let’s eat!”  We had our own stories that were told, mostly about the significance of the foods, but those you can read in prior blogs.  To me, those stories, these family thought up life lessons and morals, were more relevant and more important.  The tales about why matzo balls are round and why brisket is cooked so long, these stories dreamed up by the women in my family and handed down to us, these are a personal legacy that I will always enjoy and honor.  It is those stories I would love to retell to my Grandchildren should I be lucky enough to have them one day.

Today, I had matzo with my breakfast.  This afternoon I will head to my brother and sister-in-law’s house for a beautiful Easter celebration as my sister-in-law is not Jewish.  Their house will be filled with love and laughter and I am thrilled to be a part of the happiness; however, I will test my discipline when dessert is rolled out.  I am bringing chocolate covered matzo so there will be symbol of our Jewish heritage, something sweet and tasty for dessert, but I will salivate when the cookies and cakes come out.  And so, I, as a Jew, will celebrate freedom and the lack of time my ancestors had to flee Egypt, by eating dry foods that take extra time to prepare??????

Happy Holidays everyone ~ no matter what you celebrate, I hope you celebrate with those you love.  THAT is the best of times ~ no matter what you eat!

http://www.dummies.com/how-to/content/the-haggadah-and-the-steps-of-a-seder.html