Headless (caution: Rant Ahead)

I look at my kids and I look the communities we are building, and I worry. A lot.  There is no leadership, the leaders are afraid, the principals, rebbeim, teachers and Roshie Yeshivah don't take a stand, they don't tell the kids no, they don't teach what they need to teach.

Oh, they are very good at the macro-band wagon jumping that everyone else is doing...don't text, don't go online, don't have a plan or marry a guy with a plan. That's locked up tight. 

It's the individual issues that come up, whether in schools, or yeshivos, or shuls that there seem to be no "there-there." They fear that if they say something maybe people won't listen, but isn't that the role of a leader, to fight the prevailing attitudes, to teach, to guide, to LEAD???

I don't need to give examples, you all have at least three of your own you can probably come up with, and until leaders/teachers/Rabbis are willing to take a stand, and not worry so much about whether or not people like them, we will stay in the morass we have created for ourselves.  The true leaders are not afraid, and that doesn't mean fire and brimstone, it means that when something is right you stand up for it, and when something is wrong you say so. Enough of this kumbaya everyone is right, everyone's view is valid. Not always and not when you are protecting a society. If you are an institution you have an obligation to rise above, be better, be more, teach, guide and lead.

Really it's likely that the parents of today need a slap in the head, and quit being so darn afraid of their kids, but they have no guidance because the leaders don't lead.  So we can look forward to more of the same, or hopefully Mashiach, when the true leaders will shine.

Why Would You Ask?

The day after winter vacation, and the kids are all in the classroom, one of the later periods of the day. I understand it's hard for the kids to be back in school, and you want them to settle down, forty five minutes until dismissal.

But there has to be a better way to do that, then asking everyone what they did on winter vacation. The teacher has been there for many, many years. She knows there are varying degrees of economic and social
status amongst her students. She knows that some kids had major vacations, some were busy everyday, and some, literally did nothing. or close to it.

I am not really sure why, in 7th grade, this is something that needs to be formally discussed in a "go around the classroom" sort of way.

Now I am not one of those "trophies for everyone" kind of people, but this is different. This solidifies the status of certain girls in the class, and puts others in the realm of just wanting. I do not expect the school or teachers to advise the kids not to discuss it. I do expect the teachers to be more sensitive.

The girls were given the opportunity to "not answer," but that's not really better. Because mostly, most times, it's the kids who did nothing or not too much who will defer. Those who partied in the sun are likely to be thrilled to answer.

The whole thing makes me sad.

Must Be Quite A Show

Throughout the year the local community college hosts many shows- a Home show, an RV show, a Hunting and Fishing show. This weekend is the Tri-State Auto show.

Every year they put the sign in front of a local eatery, and every year I want to take a picture of it. This year MBB was headed to the parking lot across the street, and he obliged and took this picture for me.

It cracks me up every time:

An Open Letter to the Smug, Self-Righteous, Middle-Aged, Hippie Woman Whose Liberal Arts College Education Did Not Include a Primer on the Proper Use of a Supermarket's Self-Checkout Machine

I'm sure you're really proud of yourself.

Acting all responsibly and earth-aware, you insist on using your own canvas shopping bags to pack your groceries, rather than those evil, destructive plastic shopping bags the rest of us unenlightened folks use to carry our freshly-acquired exploitative products. Obviously, the aforementioned bags need to be unfolded slowly, lovingly, lest their biodegradable feelings get injured.

Surely, each and every one of your well-thought-out purchases needs to be gazed upon, contemplatively, before you actually scan it. Simply purchasing things and paying for them hastily is so bourgeois.

I can't fault you for not noticing the massive line forming behind you as you spent about 10 minutes completing a task that takes the average tooth-deprived, inbred citizen of the supermarket's host township approximately 2 minutes to successfully complete. After all, one cannot be rushed when contemplating the plight of laboratory animals, and whether or not the shampoo you're purchasing (for someone else, obviously) played any part in their tragic suffering.    

Just know this, Planet Protector.

(1) When the machine beeps, it means that your product was scanned. There's no need to scan again for a second opinion. You were buying broccoli, not considering an invasive surgical procedure.

(2) As I glared at you throughout the entire duration of your check-out odyssey, I was releasing enough negative ions into the atmosphere to kill a dolphin that had been swimming off the coast of New Zealand. That one's on you, lady.

REJECTED!!!

Here is something I submitted to Mishpacha Family First, for the back page Life Takes column. I submitted it after another story about a bubby who slaved away in the kitchen over latkes or kugel. The Bubbies of today are different, but the underlying theme is the same.  It was rejected:

Chremsel on the last day of Pesach, stuffed cabbage on Simchas Torah, kreplach on erev Yom Kippur— surely there are those who wait to make these delicacies, to know they are serving their families traditional foods made in a traditional way. Surely, there are those who serve those goodies knowing their family waits for it, and knowing that they are serving a special Shabbos Yom Tov food. Some of the best writers regale us with stories of their Bubbys whipping up dishes, bringing their tantalizing treats to life on the page in a way that makes your mouth water. They evoke the aromas, tastes and closeness of Shabbos and Yom Tov, making us wistful for the days that come weekly or once a year.

But not every special dish is special in that way. In fact, perhaps the kitchen aspect of our lives should not weigh so heavily on us as we seek its meaning.  Sometimes our cooking is important because of what it means for just a few people.

The people who count most.

My mother in law doesn’t get up really early in the morning to be in the kitchen (though she is always up early), she doesn’t make a lot of old recipes that have been handed down through many generations (though she does make a few of those), and she didn’t have a hard life growing up in Europe. No, my mother in law grew up in the ‘50s in Boro Park, and she has great stories to tell my kids, and she often does. Her days of making gefilte fish from scratch, and chopping up liver are behind her, and not something her grandchildren experienced. Yet, her food, and in particular her soup evokes one thing for my kids: love.

My in laws live in Florida now, and are not in New York all that often. When they come, it’s usually only for a few days. But my mother in law will almost always make her soup for us to put in the freezer. It’s not a fancy soup, or very hard to make, but the kids wait for “Bubby Soup.”  On those crazy Thursday nights, when we are expecting a big crowd for Shabbos, (and for some reason the kids still want supper) they will always ask, “Do we have any Bubby Soup in the freezer?”

Could I make it myself? Absolutely, and then we would have it all the time, but what’s special about the soup goes so far beyond its actual taste.

No Chanukah party is complete without the warming embrace of Bubby’s soup. There are latkes there too, and they are excellent, but if there is one thing everyone would miss, it would be that liquid love. Coming to our house for a bas mitzvah party, or Shabbos, or just a visit, my father in law will walk in and say, “I have soup for you in the car—can we put it in the freezer?” And then, while we are shivering in the winter in New York, and Bubby and Zaidy are walking around Miami in shirtsleeves, we can have our soup and let the spoonful of vegetables and barley warm us inside and out.

.Don’t get me wrong, my mother in law is a good cook who in her time made two weddings in her house, cooked everything from scratch for huge Shabbosim, and Yomim Tovim, and makes a really good fluffy and crispy potato kugel. To people besides her children and grandchildren she isn’t particularly known for this soup. It isn’t traditional in the sense that everyone knows someone who makes it. It isn’t a must-have at a Shabbos or Yom Tov meal. It’s not a recipe that goes back very far at all. It’s just something Bubby made, that everyone loved, so she makes it as often as she can, and lets us stock up on it. She lets the kids know how much she loves them and that she is thinking of them. It’s better than the trips to the pizza store and the presents she always brings. She doesn’t ask us if we want it, or if we need it, because she knows that it is always welcome, always the right size and always appreciated. And it evolved into this naturally, without any sort of mystical component. Just love.  

A few years ago my children asked my husband if she made “Bubby Soup” when he was a kid. He responded, “Yes, but we just called it soup.”

What Do You Believe?

Conspiracy theories can be fun. Sometimes the idea of a big cover-up of something more than what we "know" gives a little thrill, as people think they've detected something  and hope to possible bring some powerful entities to their knees with their revelations.

The problem with some conspiracy theories is that not only do they imply that governments kill their own citizens for political gain, or issues reform, but that they often take years of planning, and the money comes from...where? (9/11 theories all imply that Cheney started planning well before he was in office, and had special top secret government scientific products applied to the inner structures of the buildings for at least a year before the attacks.)

But the larger issue is the loose ends. Many conspiracy theories discount the fact that so many random people end up being involved, and witnessing things, that it would be nearly impossible to get them all on board, even if each was threatened or paid off.

Take Sandy Hook for example. This article talks about a neighbor of the school who is being harassed because he is "a part of the conspiracy" to change gun laws in this country. It follows on the heels of a professor in Florida also opining that the government murdered 20 children, and then claimed it was one lone crazy guy. So all the first responders, all the families, all the teachers in the school, all the kids, they got to all of them. And not a single one is slipping. Man, a government that can pull that off should be able to, I don't know, figure how to fix the economy, maybe?

When I was younger I loved conspiracy theories, and some were believable to me then.  The only one that I still believe today is TWA flight 800 that went down in Moriches Bay on Long Island. The reason I believe it is two-fold: One,  no one said the conspiracy was in place BEFORE the event, just that it was covered up after the fact (that it was either a terrorist that shot it out of the sky, or that during Naval exercises in the area it was accidentally shot down.) Two, and this is what I am talking about above-a bunch of random people who lived in the area, or were on the water that night all said they saw something go up right before the plane went down.

Cover-ups? Maybe. Planned disasters/terror? Please. The government can hardly get two agencies to work together to do good. And in this age of twitter and facebook, when everyone is a reporter? I am not a believer.

Sign of the Times

Today was dreary and cold. As much as the meteorologists claimed it would be 50 degrees and sunny- it was not. It was real winter bleak, a white grey day with a chill accompanying it.

In those conditions I found myself, with my constant, small, two year old companion, at the local coffee place/cafe.  I ordered a latte, and as the milk was loudly frothing, the barrista pulled out her phone and was half turned toward the counter.  The young gentleman in my company asked if he could have a muffin. This is the exact conversation that followed:

" Sure, you can have muffin, we have to ask the girl who works here, and then you can have it."

"She not working, she texting somebody."