Mortgage Monday: Finally Settled After Seven Years

Society Hill Synagogue

Tomorrow is a very special day for me and my wife. Not just because of the commitment we made to one another that day but also because of the memories that we continue to carry with us both during the good times and the difficult ones. While a blur at the time, as the years have passed the memories remain vivid in my mind. Seven years ago tomorrow my wife and I, after a prolonged engagement, ran down the aisle for the first time as husband and wife.

It is especially poignant to think about all of those people who meant so much to us that day, who went out of their way to make the day special and how, while they are no longer with us, they live on in the deep meaning that they brought to that moment in our life. From a friend bringing appetizers into our room during the cocktail reception to friends from Samantha’s synagogue enjoying the opportunity to make new friends. From the joy in my mother in laws face as she spent time with friends and with my wife (and the Salmon and polenta combination helped too) to my grandmother pulling my wife aside toward the end of the night to offer her advice.

All of those memories come back to me in an instant whenever I catch a glimpse of our wedding photos on the wall of our living room and when I see our Ketubah hanging near our kitchen table as I walk in the door. But this is the time of year when they are the most vivid and when I am the most thankful that we have one another. It hasn’t always been easy but the good far outweighs the difficult times and we are much stronger both individually and as a family because of each of those moment even though it doesn’t seem like it at times.

And now we celebrate this day finally settled into a place that we call home. We enjoy our anniversary as a family and we look forward to the years to come more so than we have in the past. I know I haven’t been the perfect husband and my wife continues to say that she hasn’t been the perfect wife over the years but, while it has some wear around the edges, our marriage is as strong as it has ever been. Seven years with decades to go not just as husband and wife but as mommy and daddy. And now we know, and we have the security in knowing, where we will be for all of our future anniversaries.

Sunday Search: Paper Or Plastic

Over the past couple of weeks I have been scrambling to find documents and pictures both on my computer and in my files. It seems as though whenever I needed a physical copy I only had it digitally and whenever I needed a digital copy I could only find the physical one. It have just been one of those streaks but it also reminded me of the importance of the need to have family pictures and documents stored both physically and digitally. Simply put, you never know what might happen in the future and you don’t want to be in a position where you find yourself without all the research that you worked so hard to compile.

In my search for certain records and in the stories passed down the family, there are numerous examples of physical photos and files being destroyed by fire, water, or things that have simply vanished. All of these instances happened at a time when the digitization of these records was not possible making their loss permanent. There isn’t a week that goes by when I wonder what information could have been found in those records and the details that we will never have again.

On the other side of the equation. I have gotten to know a number of people in the genealogy community over the past few years and there have been moments when I have spoken to someone who had amassed a massive database of family history which they stored on their computer. Unfortunately, they had not gotten around to printing out all the documents and pictures when their computer crashed. While most of the time it is possible to retrieve the data from the hard drive, in this instance all the records were lost. All they were left with was a few physical pictures and documents here and there… they hadn’t even gotten up to loading everything on Ancestry. It was basically a return to the beginning.

While I am admittedly behind in this endeavor, I am slowly chipping away at syncing my research so that I have digital and physical copies of everything. Note that this includes storage on my computer and on an external hard drive. Once this has been achieved I will begin loading everything onto Ancestry. That’s not to say that I don’t load things to my tree from time to time but there is much more to be shared, more than most people in the family realize. Maybe I will be able to relax once this first big project is done and the ongoing maintenance becomes manageable. However, just stick to remembering the important thing… when someone asks you whether you prefer paper or plastic always pick both.

One Day Makes A Difference

Even as I type these words and watch them appear on the screen I still can’t believe that it has already been a year since we met our son for the first time. Our lives changed in an instant and I can still remember the feeling of shock that originally hit me when my wife’s water broke. While I was able to pull myself together, collect most of our things, and drive us down the snow dusted highway to the hospital, that daze didn’t really lift until hours later when our son grabbed my finger for comfort as the nurse cleaned him off.

There are moments from that day, and from the week for that matter, that remain a little hazy having melded together in a jumbled memory but there are also moments, good and bad, that remain clear as if they only happened an hour or two ago. That is what makes this passage of time so unbelievable. And while there have been trying moments to be sure during this first year of parenthood, I wouldn’t never want to go back to the way things used to be. Being a father, sometimes even a good father, is what I enjoy most each and every day.

It has been an interesting year full of first experiences, difficult moments, and challenging situations. It has been a calendar full of change but one that has brought us to a great place in our lives. There have been the funny moments of dodging poo and casting wee rainbows, nurturing times when our son got sick or was overwhelmed during his growth spurts, and adorable moments when he would smile, laugh, or nuzzle in our arms. And the daily joy beaming from his face, some days it is more prevalent than others, is enough to make even the most difficult days disappear.

Of course, we also find ourselves in the unique position of celebrating and mourning at the same time. While our son’s birth and my mother-in-law’s passing technically happened on the same day, this is one of the times that I insist on going by the Hebrew calendar. By doing so our son's birthday, the 26th of Sh'vat, 5775, is separated from the date on which my mother-in-law passed away, 27th of Sh'vat, 5775. Having that single day of separation makes a huge difference at times. It is interesting how faith can be comfort in the most obscure ways in addition to the guidance that it provides during times of struggle.

However, while there are no trips to grandma’s house that our son will remember about growing up, he still knows his grandma and recognizes her in pictures. It hasn’t been easy but there is a bond between the two of them that we both wanted for our children long before our baby became a reality. We didn’t plan on it happening this way but the important thing is that they are connected, our son knows his grandma, and his laugh when he sees her picture eases just a little bit of the pain from that day.

And this is just one of the many ways that our son continues to change how we look at life and the world. At times he has been our sole reason for happiness but mostly he has provided us with the love that permeates every moment of life and makes us remember that the love is what we always need to remember. Whether someone is here or not, the love remains. As I have said before, I will forever be thankful for that gift which our son has given us.

It is a complicated day, couple of days actually, but one that comes down to the most simple of statements… Happy 1^st Birthday my adorable baby boy! Mommy and daddy love you!

First Mother’s Day

My wife and I have both been looking forward to today and dreading it at the same time. There has been a lot that has happened since the last time that the calendar noted this holiday. There is a lot that we have to celebrate and a lot that we are missing on this day. To my wife’s credit, which says a lot about her strength, she decided to focus on the joy of the day and I did my best to make that a reality (even in the face of a few trying moments). Like many things these days, time is moving both fast and slow. It seemed to take forever for this day to come but it also caught us a little off guard.

For the past couple of months we had been anticipating the good and bad of the day. In an effort to focus on the former we decided to get away for a couple of days. I nearly dropped the ball on this one but managed to make it happen by booking a room early last week (more on the trip itself in my next post). It was also late in the week when I was finally able to order flowers for my mom (for which we got a call when they were delivered yesterday)... ProFlowers.com kind of saved me on that one. We both owe a lot to our mom’s and now that we have a son we understand even more the importance of this day.

We were a little apprehensive about the overnight stay at a hotel with the baby given that this was his first night away from home but, in the end, the entire trip went better than we could have ever hoped. There wasn’t a single moment of crying for much of the getaway and he seemed to be happy to explore a new place and simply spend time with his mommy and daddy. Of course, it could be that maybe our son is already learning that you don’t mess with mommy on Mother’s Day.

While we did our best to think of all the good things that have happened and the fact that it is the first Mother’s Day that we have celebrated with our son, I couldn’t help but think about the one thing that I couldn’t give my wife today. I didn’t buy a card or flowers as there wasn’t really anything that I could find that made sense… at least not this year. I could have bought a “First Mother’s Day” card but it was also a first for another reason… one that I couldn’t change. It was a hard day but a great day as well. I just wish that I could have given her the gift that she really wanted today.

Things Could Have Been Different…

Another year has come and gone and I can still remember the chaos that surrounded us all on this day 13 years ago. The memories, which I wrote about on this blog last year, still remain and the emotions that flooded both my heart and mind, while faded, still linger. I was one of the lucky ones in that I didn’t know anyone who lost their life as the Manhattan skyline forever changed but, unfortunately, I know many who have since lost their lives in resulting wars.

I think about them from time to time and wonder if I had been able to make it through basic training. I wonder how things would have been different if my body had held up. These are the thoughts that crowd my mind during this day. I guess you could say that I am also fortunate in this regard as well because if I wasn’t discharged the following summer, there is no guarantee that I would be here today.

This is a day of remembrance and reflection for me. Even having working in Manhattan for a number of years, I have only been to ground zero once. However, I can remember the chill that came over me changing trains in Brooklyn… do I take the A, C, or E to work today? I remember that year, I couldn’t take the E, I had to take the A train and get to mid-town as quickly as possible. While it wasn’t necessarily logical, I couldn’t bring myself to walk onto the E train as it waited for passengers at the station.

Now, far removed from those days in New York City, I was sitting and talking with my colleagues about where they were that morning. Some of us were in college, a couple were working, and a few were still sitting in their grade school classes not fully comprehending what was happening as the events unfolded. I guess you could say that none of us could comprehend at the time.

For the first time, I am witnessing the change in the perception of events that I so vividly lived through. The age gap is slowly widening and I am meeting more and more people for whom the memory of this day seems more of the abstract variety rather than the visceral. I will never forget that day and I will forever be grateful for the twists that occurred in my life since then that not only allows me to look back but appreciate all that has changed, all that has happened, and all that could have been different.

Remembering Speed Bump, Cujo, and Munchkin…

On my way home from the office this evening I got a call from my wife who was sobbing on the other end of the line. Now, given the fact that she is pregnant, this doesn’t necessarily mean that there is something wrong. However, tonight she had a darn good reason as she had just learned that her beloved little doggy was gone.

She got Little Prince at a time in her life when she needed a furry companion (long before I filled that role) and while she hadn’t lived with the dog for many years, it was still her dog. He had been struggling for some time now so, while sad, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to the partially blind, diabetic, little Munchkin. While it has been a long time coming, it was still a sudden turn of events and it got me thinking about the pets I have had and lost during my life.

I have had a lot of pets during my life from cats and dogs to birds, goldfish, and a hamster. Heck, we even had a pig. While I enjoyed having each one of these animals especially when I was growing up, I had a particularly affinity for the two dogs that have come and gone. Those were the two that were particularly hard to lose and I still think about each of them from time to time.

The first was Laddy (also known as ‘Speed Bump’). This is the dog that I have written about before that completely lost the use of its tail (this was at the same time he became a barking speed bump). This was my first dog and I can still remember coming down the stairs in the morning and seeing him lying on the family room floor. My parents were away and my grandmother was watching us at the time. While she thought the dog was just sleeping we knew that it was time to call my uncle as that speed bump was no longer moving.

Hally followed soon after and while she might have seemed like Cujo to the little kids in the neighborhood, she was the nicest dog and always knew when I wasn’t feeling good or if I was in pain. Both times that I had my knee cleaned out I remember the dog following me around the house and jumping onto my, at the time, slim stomach as soon as I would lay down on the couch. Of course, the funniest thing was that during my healthier times when I would be running outside she would join me only taking a break to run over to the neighbor’s yard to take a crap. She wasn’t the same dog toward the end, which she seemed to know was near, and while it was sad I was glad to see her no longer struggling.

Now my parents no longer have a dog and instead have a cat with an odd obsession with concussions and an abnormal aversion to nature. She continues to live up to the name we gave her as a kitten, Nada, because there is little going on between those ears and behind that Scooby like expression. And while I do not have the same connection with this animal, it will still be sad when her single synapse stops transmitting.

For now we say so long to the little doggy that got my wife through a hard time without which we may have never met. He is no longer enduring his daily struggle and will now, finally, be able to rest. His worries are gone and my wife’s constant worries about his well-being can now cease occupying her mind. And with a baby on the way she will soon have another furry munchkin to love.

When Prayers Go Unanswered

Ever since the news reported their disappearance, we have been hoping, praying, and some pleading for the safe return of Eyal Yifrah, 19, Gilad Shaar, 16, and Naftali Fraenkel, 16, the three Israeli teenagers who were kidnapped on June 12. Yesterday, all those words that each of us kept repeating seemed to fall short as reports quickly spread that those three boys were found murdered with the last whispers of one of the victims recorded by a phone call placed to 100, Israel’s emergency hotline. “They’ve kidnapped me.”

This national and international tragedy came to a tearful conclusion today… while difficult for me to express, the first line I read in a Times of Israel article today perfectly captured that whish we are all experiencing:

“Despite frantic prayers and more than two weeks of desperate searching, the saga of the three kidnapped boys ended Tuesday with the mourner’s kaddish, the traditional prayer for the dead, with three families clasped in prayer and an entire country standing behind them.”

I heard the news, debates, and questions on the radio all morning and watched as the news streamed across my screen all day but until I read my email this evening I wasn’t even sure I would be writing this post (I encourage you to read the email pasted below from Rabbis Shraga Sherman & Mendy Cohen of Chabad of the Main Line). There are few words that can be said at this time that mean anything. It may be difficult for some to understand, and I have had to explain it a few times, but our connection to Israel is not just to a piece of land. We are one with Israel in body, mind, heart, and soul. No matter where we are in this world or where we are in life, we are one. These are our boys.

Unfortunately, as we still mourn we know that soon we will be defending ourselves to the same people that now offer their condolences because we are allowed to mourn and suffer tragedy but we are not allowed to fight back and defend ourselves against future tragedy. It is this constant back and forth of the emotional pendulum that also binds us together but, right now, we mourn. We silently remember ‘our boys’ and ask that our renewed prayers are heeded… let them be the last.

B"H

Shalom,

Yesterday, we all heard the tragic news from Israel. There are few words. Only grief. Sadness. Pain. For 18 days, the Jewish world was so united. We became one family. Our differences and labels of affiliations were pushed to the side. These 3 boys united us. They made us one. Eyal, Gilad and Naftali became our sons... our brothers... No, we never met them but they were OURS... We prayed, we cried, we demanded, we posted - BRING OUR BOYS HOME! It was OUR boys. The power of this unity deserved a different ending. Deserved a reunion of the Jewish world with their boys. Deserved an all night/all day dancing session at the Western Wall celebrating their safe return to their new large family, the family of Klal Yisroel. But it was not meant to be...

We are left heartbroken... numb... in grief... and angry...

First, we must mourn. There is a need for us to realize it is okay to cry and mourn the loss of a loved one... it is beyond words of consoling... it is real pain and tears... We lost 3 children... 3 brothers... As those families are now sitting shiva, we too feel that the deep sense of loss and the love we have for these children and their families.

It is only after we mourn that we will need to deal with our anger. The united Jewish family will have to stand strong and give the Land of Israel the support they will need and deserve.

Today is also the 20th yahrtzeit of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, On the anniversary of a tzadik’s passing, all the light that he planted in this world—his teachings, good deeds, and everything in which he invested his life and being—all this shines brightly, so that anyone connected to him can receive blessings of life, happiness and wisdom. Today more than ever the world needs the comfort, the insight and the fortitude which the Rebbe taught us.

I have pasted below an article just released by Rabbi Jonathan Sachs, very well said…

Just as we mourn together today, so may we very soon celebrate together. May there be many Simchos by all of us, with the ultimate Simcha, the coming of Moshiach. May it already take place.

Rabbis Shraga Sherman & Mendy Cohen

P.S. - There will be a Farbrengen this evening at 9:15 p.m. (Chabad of the Main Line, 625 Montgomery Ave, Merion) marking the Rebbe’s 20th Yahrtzeit. It is a good time for us to be together and hear words of strength and inspiration. Please join us.

In memoriam Eyal, Gilad and Naftali from Rabbi Jonathan Sacks

This past Shabbat we read the parsha of Chukkat with its almost incomprehensible commandment of the red heifer whose mixed with "living water" purified those who had been in contact with death so that they could enter the Mishkan, symbolic home of the glory of God. Almost incomprehensible, but not entirely so.

The mitzvah of the parah adumah, the red heifer, was a protest against the religions of the ancient world that glorified death. Death for the Egyptians was the realm of the spirits and the gods. The pyramids were places where, it was believed, the spirit of the dead Pharaoh ascended to heaven and joined the immortals.

The single most striking thing about the Torah and Tanakh in general is its almost total silence on life after death. We believe in it profoundly. We believe in olam haba (the world to come), Gan Eden (paradise), and techiyat hametim (the resurrection of the dead). Yet Tanakh speaks about these things only sparingly and by allusion. Why so?

Because too intense a focus on heaven is capable of justifying every kind of evil on earth. There was a time when Jews were burned at the stake, so their murderers said, in order to save their immortal souls. Every injustice on earth, every act of violence, even suicide bombings, can be theoretically defended on the grounds that true justice is reserved for life after death.

Against this Judaism protests with every sinew of its soul, every fibre of its faith. Life is sacred. Death defiles. God is the God of life to be found only by consecrating life. Even King David was told by God that he would not be permitted to build the Temple because dam larov shafachta, "you have shed much blood."

Judaism is supremely a religion of life. That is the logic of the Torah's principle that those who have had even the slightest contact with death need purification before they may enter sacred space. The parah adumah, the rite of the red heifer, delivered this message in the most dramatic possible way. It said, in effect, that everything that lives - even a heifer that never bore the yoke, even red, the color of blood which is the symbol of life - may one day turn to ash, but that ash must be dissolved in the waters of life. God lives in life. God must never be associated with death.

Eyal, Gilad and Naftali were killed by people who believed in death. Too often in the past Jews were victims of people who practiced hate in the name of the God of love, cruelty in the name of the God of compassion, and murder in the name of the God of life. It is shocking to the very depths of humanity that this still continues to this day.

Never was there a more pointed contrast than, on the one hand, these young men who dedicated their lives to study and to peace, and on the other the revelation that other young men, even from Europe, have become radicalized into violence in the name of God and are now committing murder in His name. That is the difference between a culture of life and one of death, and this has become the battle of our time, not only in Israel but in Syria, in Iraq, in Nigeria and elsewhere. Whole societies are being torn to shreds by people practicing violence in the name of God.

Against this we must never forget the simple truth that those who begin by practicing violence against their enemies end by committing it against their fellow believers. The verdict of history is that cultures that worship death, die, while those that sanctify life, live on. That is why Judaism survives while the great empires that sought its destruction were themselves destroyed.

Our tears go out to the families of Eyal, Gilad and Naftali. We are with them in grief. We will neither forget the young victims nor what they lived for: the right that everyone on earth should enjoy, to live a life of faith without fear.

Bila hamavet lanetzach: "May He destroy death forever, and may the Lord God wipe away the tears from all faces." May the God of life, in whose image we are, teach all humanity to serve Him by sanctifying life.

Don’t Mess With Granny On Game Day...

...and don't mess with mama either!

Like many work places during this time of year, the football pool is in full swing. It might be the only reason why I watch football these days. I don’t have the time to dedicate to the hours of penalties, dropped passes, missed tackles, and general ineptitude (I’m an Eagles fan) but I enjoy the fallout on Monday morning when those who were certain they would win are at the bottom of the list. It is all in good fun and win or lose it gives everyone some cheap entertainment over the weekend.

What has been especially entertaining for me this year is the diversity of the people participating. Young and old, men and women, everyone seems to be having a good time selecting their teams and humorously questioning the decisions of others. The only part that is not enjoyable is the fact that we can’t pick our hometown team or else we forfeit a win for the week (again, I am an Eagles fan).

Many would assume that all the young guys would be the ones that lend certain intensity to the game and in most places where I have been a part of the game you would be correct. That is definitely not the case this year. All the younger participants seem to be the most laid back on Monday morning.

The older men are pretty calm during the week when they are making picks and that generally carries through the weekend. Come Monday morning some of them can be a little testy if they didn’t fare well. They are the middle of the road players.

However, the ones that you don’t want to mess with are the older ladies in the building. The greater their age the more intense they are. Don’t mess with granny on game day!

Being that they are retired, these women spend what I assume to be hours looking up player stats and breaking down the matchups for the week. I guess when Atlantic City gets too cold it’s time to focus on football. Needless to say, if you see them on Monday morning tread very lightly because if they had a bad week they will take you out (the Eagles defense could learn a lot from them).

I’m actually kind of curious what it’s like when they’re watching the football game. At the same time I don’t want to risk being in their presence when the mood changes and the Eagles inevitably start getting the snot beat out of them. I especially don’t want to be around this weekend when they play Denver. I don’t know why they get so intense about the game. Maybe it’s the gambling side of things but it might just be that there is something wrong with their medulla oblongata.