Grandparenting Through Food

I am told that having grandchildren is much better than having children. What I see from my children's grandparents, it comes from the ability to ignore most rules that parents must impose upon children. Ask my children about my father. They will tell you he's strong and determined. They will also tell you, he gives them ice cream for breakfast (and lunch). My father-in-law is wrapped around my daughter's little finger. She is, after all, the only girl (My husband has a brother. His first cousins are all male. We have two nephews, our two boys, and, finally, a girl. You can see how it happens.)

When grandchildren visit, there seems to arise a need to ply them with food and/or activities. Maybe it's a constant stream of "What are we going to do today?" We five are mostly homebodies. While we enjoy museums, movies, and attractions, we also like a good hibernation. Maybe it's the need to visit every "favorite" restaurant or to have everyone's "favorite" foods in the house.

There was candy. There was Coke. There was Snapple. There was Martinelli's sparkling cider. There were Kit Kats. There were three, maybe four, bags of Ghiradelli's miniatures. There were chocolate kisses. All we were missing were Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And there was meat, lots of meat.

Maybe it was so save me from having to cook. While both my parents cook, neither can be described as "a cook." I do most of the cooking while there. Maybe it was a Hanukah treat. Whatever it was, during the past week we ate Italian, Chinese, deli, sushi, and NY bagels. When we did eat in, it was a meat-fest. We eat red meat about once every six to eight weeks. At my parents we ate meat at least 3 nights. We arrived to meatloaf, which was followed by Hanukah turkey, which became a turkey pot pie, beef stew, skirt steak, twice, and lots of leftovers.  My arteries must hate me. I am not a fish person. There are few fish I enjoy, and I rarely will eat it the second day. Friday, while unpacking, I went food shopping. For my children and husband I bought premade roast chicken. For me, for the first time in my life, I bought fish. Yes. I have bought fish before. I have bought it because we put it on our menu. It's on our menu because it's good for us. I bought some because Gavi likes it, some because Sean likes it. I have never bought it because I really wanted it, until Friday. Did I really want it? Maybe not. But I really wanted an entree that was easy to cook, and involve any meat. If I even thought about eating meat, I think I'd be sick. So, I bought fish. I even ate some today, the second day. Tomorrow- lots and lots of salad.

Vayechi- Blessings Don't Always Look Like You Think They Should

Hamal’akh hago’eleil oti mikol ra y’vavareikh et-han’arim v’yikarei vahem shmi vsheim avotai Avraham v’Yitzchak v'yidgu larov b’kerev ha’aretz.

The angel who redeemed me from all evil, bless these youth, and let my name be carried on through them and the names of my fathers, Avraham and Isaac, and let them grow into many across the earth. (Breishit 48:16)

Most of us are familiar with the Shabbat evening blessing of the children:

For a son:

Y’simcha Elohim k’Efrayim v’khi’M’nashe.

For a daughter:

Y’simeikh Elohim k’Sara, Rivka, Racheil, v’Lei’ah.

The line that follows the gendered blessing is the kohanic blessing from parashat Naso. However, the blessing given by Jacob is something else.

On his deathbed, Jacob calls Joseph along with his sons, Menashe and Efrayim, to him. In that moment, he “adopts” Menashe and Efrayim as his own. In doing so, he entitles each of them an inheritance equal to that of Jacob’s other sons. At that time, he not only passes on a physical inheritance, but a spiritual one. It is a blessing of protection. Jacob invokes the protection he has enjoyed for Menashe and Efrayim. It is a blessing of hope for the future with the promise of growth. And it is a blessing of connection from one generation to another, as Jacob asks that his name and the names of his fathers be carried on, a plea not to be forgotten.

It has become the custom in many homes to add Jacob’s blessing to the traditional blessing of the children. It connects our blessing further to that of our ancestors, and to our own personal angels mentioned in Shalom Aleikhem. The story appears in Talmud (Shabbat 119b) that on Shabbat each person has two angels, a good angel and a bad angel. Unlike the angel and devil that sit upon the shoulders of a cartoon character egging him on, these angels do not interact directly with us. On Shabbat, these angels appear, often following us home from synagogue. When they arrive at our homes, they peer in the windows. If all is well- the family is together, the house set for Shabbat, candles burning- the good angel says, “May it always be thus for every Shabbat.” The bad angel must respond, “Amen.” If the house is messy, the family fighting, the house not set for Shabbat, the bad angel says, “May it always be thus for every Shabbat.” The good angel must respond, “Amen.”

We added this blessing to our Shabbat practice when Gavi was born. Over the years, the children have looked for the angels outside the windows. All who know our children know they are intelligent, active individuals. Shabbat is wonderful and full of verve. Calm it is not. As siblings, Jesse, Gavi, and Keren have always gone into Shabbat in peace, causing Sean to posit that the reason Menashe and Efrayim are chosen for the parents’ blessing is that, in the Torah, they never speak. With this, the kids have decided that after years of wonder, instead of speaking the formula, the angels bring popcorn and settle down to watch. Yet, through it all the kids developed a sincere love of Shabbat and of Judaism, one they will carry with them throughout their lives.

May it always be thus for every Shabbat.” “Amen.”

The December Dilemma

A few days ago, I read a comment made by the creator of "Mensch on a Bench." He said he was "inspired by his son's elf envy." There are FB posts and articles about people feeling left out at this time of year.

It's so sad that people feel left out. But I wonder, are they so empty of their own traditions and confused in their beliefs that they need to observe someone else's? And why not look to one's own traditions for fulfillment? Juxtapose this to Keren messaging with friends a few weeks ago. She was sharing that Christmas was unimportant to her. Yes, she pulled out that old fall-back, "Hanukah lasts eight days, and I get presents every day." This has never been true for her. We open all the presents the first night. The next seven are just about the holiday, that is eating lots of fried food and enjoying time with friends and family. I called her on this. She just shrugged, and changed tactics. "We have a holiday every month," she typed. Then, with a gleeful look in her eye, she listed them: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur ("Okay, that one's not fun, except for break fast which is great!") Sukkot ("We get to build and decorate a whole building in the yard!") Hanukah, Tu B'Shevat, Purim, Passover ("That's my favorite.") Shavuot, Yom Ha'atzmaut, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hashoah, Yom Yerushalayim (I think she went a bit far here), 17 Tammuz, 9 Av ("Those aren't so good.) Tu B'Av, and the entire month of Elul ("which is all about getting ready to celebrate the new year.")

There is a point in every parent's life when s/he must explain to a child that "This is Stacey's birthday party. Those are Stacey's presents. In a couple of months it was be your birthday. Then you will have a party and get your own presents." Why can't we do his with traditions and holidays. Just say, "This is Stacey's holiday. Soon it will be Purim. Purim is our holiday. We'll bake hamentaschen. You'll pick your costume. We'll go hear the megillah, deliver mishloach manot, and have a Purim seudah. Then, a month later, we'll be celebrating Pesach."

Love what you have. There's great beauty in every tradition. Embrace it. If you do, then there will be no dilemma.

We'll be eating take-out and watching the Dr. Who marathon on BBCA.  Happy (insert holiday here) to you!

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night

Today is Christmas. I've been humming the Carol of the Bells. I'm walking around around with a Chinese takeout menu. I've eaten take out (actually deli. Chinese is being saved for another day.) I'm watching Dr. Who Christmas specials in a Dr. Who marathon. I'm eating peppermint Hershey's kisses.

I love Christmas. I love Christmas everywhere, but especially in New York. I love the way New Yorkers change. They make eye contact, and smile at strangers. They slow down a bit. I love the windows in the stores and the tree at Rockefeller Center. I love when there's a white Christmas. I love Christmas movies. I've been looking for "A Christmas Carol" all day, but it's hard to get the remote away from by children, who are watching Dr. Who.

I love how everyone, no matter what religion, critiques the tackiness of the decorations in the neighborhood. My aunt's neighbor has a pile of presents in the front yard. During the day they are lovely, but at night they light up, and are a bit over the top. (Okay, a whole lot more than a bit.)

I have my own Christmas traditions that include eating things I shouldn't- candy canes (I'll get there), egg nog (waiting in my fridge at home), chocolate (done), and Chinese food (tomorrow). Whatever your traditions, enjoy them.

Merry Christmas to all, and a happy and healthy New Year. Let us pray for peace.

Language & Regional Differences

I have been blessed to live in a number of different places, and to travel to even more. I was well aware, from early on, that not everyone was like me. Those difference were often more regional than related to religion, race, gender, etcetera. At college I lived with an Italian Catholic from New York. With the exception of insisting that I get up at an ungodly hour to decorate a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, we were very much alike- in attitude, dialect, and body language.

In the last 6 months we've done quite a bit of traveling. I have been in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Muskoka, Virginia, New Jersey, Ottawa, and Toronto. I've visited at least 31 States in the US, plus Washington DC. If I take a dialect quiz, I am most like New York, NY, and least like Akron, OH. Born and bred New Yorker that's me. Still, I've picked up bits and pieces from many friends and acquaintances over the years. I say "y'all" for second person plural. Unfortunately I use it incorrectly. "Y'all" can refer to one person, as in, "Y'all want to come over for a cuppa tea?" I can't head south, listen to too much British TV, or go to Israel without it affecting my accent.

Still, no matter where I go the differences from home are noticed. In Texas everyone called me "hon." In New York that could get you slapped. In North Carolina I was "Ma'am." In Hawaii I was "Auntie." These titles came not from people I knew, but from strangers. Only in New York do strangers get my father's weird joking. For example: the owner of a local deli bringing my father coffee (pronounced  caw-fee), "Watch out. This is very hot." My father- "Oh good. If you spill it on me I'll sue." Owner- "I don't have any insurance." Hahaha. This is not actually funny, but in the moment it somehow is. In Texas everyone was nice, and willing to share their guns. (Okay, it was the one guy, but it's still strange to wear a holster to shul.) In North Carolina, people make all their turns at right angles and very, very, very (did I mention very) slowly. In New York, people are friendly and happy to help you, but they're moving so fast, and they don't make eye contact, so how would you know?

Toronto's multicultural nature suits me. I feel at home, but can enjoy everyone else too. And when I'm back in New York, with its bigger than life, over-whelming New York-ness, I can appreciate when I get to go home too.