For Heaven's Sake, Quit Fighting

This past Thursday, I got up later than usual, and as my only option for prayer in a minyan, I went to the Shtiebl in a nearby Bnei Brak neighborhood.  A Shtiebl is a kind of prayer house that's not necessarily a proper synagogue associated with a particular community, but rather just a structure men come together to pray in.  Such places are often referred to in the plural, Shtieblach, Yiddish for rooms, indicating that there are a number of prayer rooms all in one place.  This a phenomenon that is ubiquitous to areas that have a very high density of religious families, such that the overflow from the more established synagogues (by overflow I mean people who get up late, since it's rare to find a synagogue that holds weekday prayers later than 7:30 am, or those who can't find their place in a proper synagogue) is great enough to support such a place.  

I arrived just before 9 o'clock.  At such a late hour of the morning, I know what kind of a minyan I'll find, and I cringe at the thought, but the alternative is praying by myself in a house full of children on summer vacation, which is bound to be a far more painful experience.  You see, the latecomers are mostly of two persuasions: those who are in no hurry, such as the retired, unemployed, or teenaged, and those in a great hurry, because they got up late and need to start their work day.  There are a very few, like myself, who got up late but are in no great hurry, because they know there's no sense in rushing your prayers - then they will just be a bunch of mumbling and page-turning, all the while glancing at the clock.  No connection to God here!  Another thing to keep in mind is that the nature of the place is such that the organization of the individual minyanim is very loose. In the case of this particular shtiebl, there is a single aged gabbai who drifts from one crowd to the next, making sure the honors of blessing the Torah are properly auctioned off (sometimes for a little as 10 ILS, but it all adds up), and not much more. Each minyan starts when someone goes up to the lectern and starts belting out the start of the prayers. And so it's not uncommon to have one of the aforementioned types of latecomers leading the service, and some of the other kind in the crowd, grinding their teeth with anxiety and frustration. 

The shtiebl at 7:30 in the morning. In an hour both the
covered area and the outside will be packed. 

This morning was no exception. The man who was leading our prayers was a tall, middle-aged individual who didn't seem to be in any sort of a hurry.  He carefully said the introductory Psalms, chanted the three paragraphs of the Shema dutifully, and everything was humming along smoothly, if not as quickly as possible. And then we arrived at the silent prayer. Once ten participants have finished their silent prayer, the leader begins the repetition of the prayer, said aloud, with the congregation answering each blessing with a resounding "amen". The halachic sources make it clear that starting the repetition with less than 9 members of the congregation answering with an "amen" is bad for  the spiritual health of the prayer leader. 

So our hazzan, in the vernacular, starts looking around and motioning to those who appear to be finished, in order to confirm their status (all communication at this moment must be done in utter silence so as not to disturb the majority of the congregation, who are still deep in prayer).  But some of them aren't looking at him,  or don't respond to his gestures, and he's having a lot of trouble taking a reliable tally.  He keeps trying, and a minute, two minutes pass. It's clear that well over ten of us have finished the prayer and are waiting for him to start the repetition.  A couple of men try to motion to our hazzan that it's safe to move on, but he ignores them.  He wants to be sure of the count.  A twenty-something clean-cut man, standing at the back of the room, whose face says he's running late to his office job, clears his throat.  A moment later, a soft but clearly audible "Go ahead" is heard from his direction.  These also go ignored, the goal of nine definitely and undoubtedly available men still unreached.  Another moment of silence, and our impatient young man in the back turns into an angry heckler.  "What are you waiting for?  Can't you see that you've get nine answerers already?"  The hazzan calmly replied, "I don't know if I have nine yet.  Let me count.  I know what I'm doing," and continued to make his tally.  The heckler was nonplussed, "Oh, come on already!  Your holding all of us up!"  This time his plight was echoed, in a calmer fashion, by other members of the crowd.  "He's right, you should start already."  "There's no need to wait any longer, you're needlessly delaying the prayer."  In a moment, the repetition was underway, in the same even, unhurried tone as the rest of the prayers had been.

At that moment, I looked around the room, and was not surprised to discover that, like me, many of the other men present found the situation quite uncomfortable.  The problematic part was that they were both right.  On the one hand, no one wanted to be leading the repetition without being sure there were nine attentive members of the congregation answering their every blessing, nor did they want to pressure anyone else into doing so.  On the other hand, this hazzan did seem to be ridiculously thorough about counting his answerers, even after at half the people in the room, who numbered more than 40 persons, had finished the silent prayer.  On the third hand, the young heckler's remarks had felt too harsh and too vicious (I did not translate here the full flavorfulness of his words).  I felt like some kind of making up and apologizing needed to happen before we could all go on praying together.  But it's probably better that nobody demanded such a thing, since it would certainly have made the impatient heckler even more angry.

Within a few short minutes we were ready for the Torah reading service, and the venerable gabbai took his place by the lectern and began auctioning off the honors of opening the Ark and blessing on the holy scroll in his gravelly voice.  By this time, the tension from earlier had dissipated from the air, but the incident was not forgotten.  Nobody seemed interesting in paying a few coins for the sacred task of taking the Torah scroll from the Ark and pronouncing the blessings.  Nobody, that is, except for our hazzan who never lost his cool.  And now, with a little smug smile that may have only been a figment of my imagination, he offered 10 shekels, and the honors belonged to him.  What happened next, I already saw coming.  When the gabbai announced the opening of the Ark, the calm hazzan, instead of going up and doing it himself, motioned to his antagonist to do the task.  The young man hesitated for a fraction of a second, but knowing that he can't refuse to honor the Torah no matter what he thinks of the guy who put up the money, he went through with it.  His face, however, betrayed his bewilderment.  After that a Cohen and then a Levite were called up to say the blessing over the Torah reading, and lastly, the hazzan said the blessing, with a sweet smile on his face.

Day 28 - Reunification

5 Minutes of Glory

This morning I woke up exhausted, like most of the other days this month, but with one thought in my head: "this is the last morning I wake up alone in the bed."  The morning passed by without a hitch, the kids in school, me pounding away at the computer.  It was only after Binyamin, who was home for the day after having a late-night school trip the day before, reminded to check if Michal's flight was on time that I was pulled back into a state of anticipation.  Just like yesterday, today had turned out to be much less "on edge" than I was sure it would be.

As it turned out, the flight came in early by about 20 minutes.  All the kids wanted to come to meet their mother (and baby) at the airport, except for Chanania, who had an end-of-the-year party in his afterschool electronics activity.  The flight was originally scheduled to land at 3:15 pm, which meant we could pick up Amiel from kindergarten at 2, bring him home, and shortly all head out together by bus and train to make it to the airport before 4 o'clock, about the time Michal was likely to be finished with customs and baggage.  But now it looked like we were going to be hard-pressed to get there before she got out to the welcome hall.  Amiel was brought home, had a few bites to eat, and the five of us flocked to the nearest bus stop.  

At 3:23 we boarded a train for the airport.  Yesterday, it had occurred to me that it would be fabulous if we made a large sign to wave for them when they came out, something to the effect of "We missed you so much!", maybe with a handful of helium balloons, to boot.  Then I scratched the idea, realizing there was no time for such luxuries.  But then I dreamed up a scheme to film the encounter - I'd have one of the kids hold the camera from afar, one kid would grab the luggage cart, and I - I would pick up my wife and carry her off into the sunset, like the ending to some old Western.  But now, seeing that we would likely not have more than a moment to set the stage, if that, I began to let go of even this last fantasy.  And my worst fears (yes, I'm being melodramatic) were indeed realized.  The kids rushed forward into the welcome hall, trying to squeeze in between the throngs waiting to greet their loved ones, but I just looked around the perimeter of the crowd, and pop! there they were, Michal calmly waving to me, one hand on the luggage cart, one hand holding Elisheva's hand, who was sitting strapped onto her in a Baby Bjorn carrier.  I called the kids over, and together we converged on the long-lost portion of the family.

There were no fireworks, not even a residual spark of emotional electricity.  Everyone got a hug and a kiss from mother and baby, and it was time to go on home.  Within 15 minutes we were back on the train, and the honeymoon was over.  Suddenly I was being questioned about what the kid were going to have for dinner, if laundry needs to be done, did I make that appointment to renew our passports at the embassy, and...  It was if she'd only been gone for half a day, she fell back into her position so quickly.  It seems I'm the only one who was deeply affected by this whole things.  Oh well, at least it's finally over.

The Revenge of the Goat

First night back, and she had to remind me of all the goodness I had while she was gone.  Whether jet lagged or just being her unpredictable 5-month-old self, Elisheva aka Vooch-Vooch aka The Goat gave a star performance tonight.  Within an hour and a half of going to bed, I was awakened three times.  The third time I got up I thought to myself, "Enough is enough!  I can't take any more of this!  I've got to put her into a deep sleep this time!"  She apparently read my thoughts and took me to challenge.  The first two times, she calmed down and started to doze fairly quickly, and then it took some time for her to settle into a deeper sleep.  But this time, she meant war!  After an hour in which she never really stopped twitching and whining, I was spent.  I lay her down on the couch, aware that she would commence to scream with all her might, but beyond the ability to care.  I then sprawled out beside her, dazed, trying to figure out what tactic had I not yet used that might have some effect on her.  seconds I was unconscious.  A few minutes later her mother appeared, scowling at me for letting the poor child cry (and what about her poor father?).  She decided the baby must be jet lagged and unable to sleep at this hour.  I was allowed to go off to bed.  Later I learned that The Vooch played happily for an hour before finally konking out.

It Ain't Over

And so, our tale comes to an end, a very anticlimactic end.  But for me, the adventure has just begun.  The adventure is writing down and sharing life's mysteries, intricacies, frustrations, and surprises.  Oh, and I mustn't forget, the Dedicated Son-In-Law gift I was awarded upon my wife's return.  Was it worth all the trouble?  Probably not, but it's a damn good bottle of Scotch.

Day 27 - Penultimate

Today I mark as the last day being without my better half.  For some reason, I expected it to be a day that was centered entirely around The Big Event that will happen tomorrow.  Yet somehow, it was very much a day like all the days in the past few weeks.  It's true, the kids made some drawings and prepared a welcome sign that they hung on the front door, but I wanted there to be more excitement, more preparations, more ado.  I suppose the reason why not is clear enough: the kids never felt deprived, never felt any acute loss, and therefore don't feel like tomorrow is a big deal.  And I, while I certainly felt the loss, I'm just too exhausted and burned out to get myself worked up with anticipation.  

And so the day passed by.  The kids went to school, went to feast at their grandparents' place, I got some work done, took a nap, and slowly prepared the kids and the house for the night.  Tomorrow, while not like any other day, is still a day that we must face.

Day 24 - Sand, Sea, and Sky

Binyamin trying out the Noam-carrier

This week we felt we had to take advantage of our unique situation -- no baby to worry about, and there are only 8 of us, meaning we can all fit into just two taxis.  So after much deliberation, I decided we need to go to the Palmachim beach and nature reserve.  Turns out, it was a good decision.

Sand

We took a bus to the far side of Rishon LeTzion, and from there we caught a pair of taxis to take us to the edge of the nature reserve.  From 5 meters into the trail, we were treading in soft sand.  With four kilometers ahead of us, it didn't look like such an appealing hike after all.  The kids all wanted to take off their sandals and plow through the sand barefoot, but the surface of the sand was searing hot.  Panic quickly ensued.  Much whining was heard, until our ears began to ache, and we eventually found a paved path to take us part of the way.  In the end, it turned out to be about 50/50 - half the trail we were walking in sand, and half the time on solid ground.  It wasn't as fun as it could have been, but we all survived the trek nevertheless.

The trip's sponsors enjoying a quiet moment by the water

Exploring a dam we passed by at the beginning of the hike

Sea

About two hours later, we reached our long-coveted destination.  It was a wild and empty stretch of Mediterranean goodness, with a nice breeze and playful ocean spray.  The kids got right down to business, playing in the water and in the sand, collecting seashells and interesting stones.  Except for another small group of people far down the beach, we were the only ones there.  It was perfect.

Where the sand meets the sea.  The upright speck just to the right of the greenery is Amiel running towards the water

Since we had the whole place to ourselves, we decided to make the beach clothing-optional

Sky

On the way home, we were all on a hi from the fabulous time had on the beach...

And it was quite a wild sky

Day 22 - Culture Shock

For me, my parents' arrival signified a tremendous lightening of my load, and the total end of my social isolation that grew out of my peculiar situation.  For the kids, and the grandparents, their visit has different meanings than it does for me.

Culinary

Every time they come, one of the primary ways in which the kids bond with their grandparents is through food.  Of course, you might say, everyone fondly remembers their grandmother's cooking.  It's a big part of the link between generations, etc. etc.  Well, I'm talking about something else entirely.

In our house, under normal circumstances, animal products are a rarity.  Fish, beef, and poultry get consumed once or twice during the week, and once on Shabbat, on average.  We buy milk products about 2-3 times a year, since we're convinced that cow's milk was never intended for human consumption.  When my parents are here, they end up cooking very little, for a number of reasons that are irrelevant to issue at hand.  Instead, they end up eating a ton (by our standards) of animal products -- yogurt and cheese, prepared meats, smoked or canned fish.  For our kids, who consider these foods to be special treats, going to sup at Sabba and Savta's is always preferable to eating the regular whole foods served at home, and so they go there to eat as much as the hosts will allow them - almost every day.

Techno

Story time with Savta and Youtube

While I'm now working in software, and we have two computers and three more devices at home, we still heavily restrict the kids' screen time, hoping it will help them develop creativity, independence, etc.  Sabba and Savta come along, two smartphones, a laptop and a tablet in tow, and as typical grandparents, feel no need to discipline or restrict the children they came to dote upon.

And so, at the end of a typical day with them, I hear from one kid how he got so far playing Angry Birds, and from another how funny the Donald Duck cartoon was, and from a third how she took dozens of pictures and viewed them over and over again.  When I hear about and witness their digital over-exposure, I just roll my eyes.  That's just the way it has to be, I suppose.

Socioreligious

I grew up and placed myself in a radically different culturally setting from where I began.  My religious Israeli environment is different in language, mindset, social norms, and daily habits from the way I was raised.  And while my parents come often enough (2.5 times a year, on average) to Israel, and specifically to our neighborhood, there are still questions, hesitations, and awkward moments sprinkled in their interactions with the locals here.

My father, in addition to not being privy to all the cultural clues, doesn't even know what to do if things are spelled out for him - his Hebrew vocabulary is still in the double digits range.  So he oftentimes asked me what it meant that a particular person said something to him, or looked at him a certain way, or why someone dresses in a particular fashion.  In general, we have an ongoing dialog about cultural mores in the religious community, a dialog which we continue on from visit to visit.  My mother, whether because she has a better idea of what's acceptable and what's not, or whether she just assumes she can always rely on her Hebrew language skills (which are quite good) to get her through any kind of situation, rarely inquires about these kinds of things.  And sometimes it goes the other way.  The 'landlord' from whom we're renting the apartment asked me if my father knew the prayer times of the local synagogues so he'd know where to go in the morning, and I had to kindly inform him that my father is not a frequenter of synagogues.

Day 20 - Reinforcements Have Arrived

United By a Common Goal

As I may have previously noted, the young inhabitants of my house are able to come together and perform harmoniously when motivated by something that excites or entices them.  Usually, that motivation takes the form of a piece of chocolate or 15 minutes of Warner Brothers cartoons, but occasionally a less immediate reward can serve the purpose.  In this case, seeing and pleasing their beloved grandparents was plenty motivation for them to act, with purpose, eagerly, and harmoniously.

For my part, I already arranged the apartment two weeks ago, including getting an a/c unit installed at my behest.  The problem was, the apartment hadn't been intended by the owner to serve as a vacation facility, and therefore was barely furnished.  A table with chairs, a second bed (since the existing bed wasn't so large), towels and bedding, a couch, and some basic kitchen appliances (such as an electric kettle and a toaster oven) all needed to be brought in in order to make the place comfortable for folks showing with just their suitcases for a three week stay.  Luckily, we had everything they needed already on hand at home: we'd recently gotten two more couches from friends - one would go to my parents' place; I had an extra electric kettle lying around from when I had an office space I rented out; an extra folding bed and rarely used folding table all made their way down the street to the other apartment.  The problem was making the move.  In addition to all the aforementioned furniture and sundry items, my parents also have an entire suitcase + a bag + two small boxes of things they've accumulated for use over their many visits here, and get stored in our house in between visits.

A shot of the apartment, obscured by trees, from Google Earth

This is where the kids came in.  Nearly from the moment they got home from their various educational institutions, there was only one thing on their minds: getting the apartment ready for Sabba and Savta.  And so, over the course of 3-4 hours, numerous trips were made back and forth, like a small band of ants moving the nest.  Plastic bags, boxes, and strollers served to convey all the goods. 

Once everything had been brought to the apartment, it all had to be arranged properly.  Beds were made, groceries (purchased this morning, based on standard foodstuffs they bought on previous visits) were put away, kitchen appliances and utensils arranged on the counter and in cabinets, and the floor was swept and wiped clean.  In all these preparations I played a very minimal role, carrying furniture (sometimes with Binyamin's help) too big or too heavy for them to deal with, guiding them on how to unpack the suitcase or the grocery bags, and helping them find linens, towels, and pillows for delivery.  It was a fantastic effort, I'm very proud of them, not because they displayed such a willingness to help out, but because they care so much about their grandparents.

Single Fathers Support Group 

Over the course of the last few days, I've had a number of people, my father amongst them, share with me similar experiences they had taking care of a number of children when their spouse was away for a while.  Not one of them was in that situation for as long as I've been, but who's counting? (I certainly am...)

Sonya, Adam, and their kids

One friend's wife once went to the Ukraine for five days to strengthen her bonds with Rebbe Nachman (of Breslev, buried in Uman, Ukraine).  Another friend's wife went to the States for 10 days to visit family, leaving him with a number of rowdy boys (this was a few years back; they currently have 7 boys, and no girls).  Adam, my brother-in-law, recounted how a few times Sonya went away to academic conferences, and he (and the nanny) had to fend for themselves with three young children.  And my father reminded me of the times my Mom went away to various Jewish educators' conferences and we got to break all the house rules while she was gone.

The common denominator of these short man-to-man (was that redundant?) moments of empathy, was that the experience had a positive side.  Whether just the satisfaction of knowing you're capable of it, the special male bonding time, the experience of how Things Could Be Different, or appreciating how much your wife really holds the house together, their is something to be gained from the situation, and that's what stuck with all these guys.  I not only hope, but also believe, that that's what will stick with me, instead of the exhaustion, frustration, and loneliness.

Day 19 - Shabbat With The Boys

Different Folks, Different Strokes

You know how men are supposedly more introverted than women?  I totally get that.

This Shabbat Amiel and Avigail went to their cousins in Elad, and I was left with three boys, first, last, and middle child of those entrusted to my care this month.  Shabbat was pleasant, but low key.  Instead of having an engaging conversation at the table, Binyamin and Chanania preferred to engross themselves in various reading material, or at the very most engage in text study with me, in which engaging the text is much more essential than engaging the other person.

After being vegan for a few years, I could never bring
myself to drink straight cow's milk again.  That's soy milk
in the glass

In order not to catch Asperger's from these creatures, I arranged for us to join another family for Shabbat lunch.  There they both had age peers of the proper gender to interact with, and I was spared having to futilely try to interest them in some topic of discussion, while enjoying an hour of adult conversation myself.  Interestingly enough, in this particular household, a union of a man of proud Moroccan ethnicity with an outspoken Polish woman, they had both recently begun to consider taking a vegetarian or even vegan lifestyle.  Over the course of 30 minutes or so, we traversed together all the run-of-the-mill arguments for against vegetarianism, both from a secular and Jewish perspective: cruelty to animals, health issues, inefficient use and poor allocation of world resources as a result of a heavily meat-based diet in large parts of the world, the role of animal sacrifice in Judaism and the question of whether it's meant to return at some indeterminate point in time, R. Kook's famous treatise on the role of vegetarianism in humanity's journey to final enlightenment, etc., etc.  

For me, this was most entertaining.  I became vegetarian just before my 12th birthday, and vegan when I was 15.  I stopped keeping a vegan diet at age 22 when I started my army service (a stipulation I made in an effort not to starve to death), and started eating meat again 5 years later.  In the midst of all these dietary changes I was also undergoing religious and spiritual transformations, so these discussion were oh-so familiar to me.  I felt like I was back in youth group or in yeshiva, when I used to have to defend my dietary habits from friend and foe alike.  Okay, I guess it was really just friends...

A Personal Question

In two days, my parents arrive.  I've arranged an apartment for them to stay in, but it was missing a few essential pieces of furniture.  So tonight we dragged over a couch from our place so they'll have someplace comfy to sit.  I got a friend to help carry it (it's just about a block away), and Binyamin tagged along.  After we had deposited the couch, the friend continued on to his home, and Binyamin and I strolled back to ours, down the quiet alley in which the apartment is situated.  And then, out of the blue, Binyamin said something that made me stop in my tracks.  

Binyamin.  He gets along much better with the little ones than siblings he
could have more meaningful interactions with.

"Are you happy that Sabba and Savta are coming," he asked, Sabba and Savta being the Hebrew terms for Grandpa and Grandma, respectively, and the titles my parents are addressed by in our house, regardless of the language being used.  Two things surprised me in his question.  The first, his motivation for asking.  Was it not obvious that I was pleased to see my parents?  I would like to think that it is, but maybe haven't hyped up the visit this time as much as I usually do.  But that part didn't really shock me.  What made me stop and stare at him was the fact that he had asked me how I felt about something that was of no consequence to him.  This was the first time I'd ever seen him really reach outside of himself and take interest in another person's thoughts or feelings, as just that.  Someone else's experience.

Binyamin has always been extremely self-centered, unable to see anyone else's point of view (or at least not admit that he can see it), nor take other people's feelings, perceptions, or wants into consideration.  So it really hit me when he asked me this simple question, that he must be maturing, coming to appreciate that other people have their own perception of reality.  A step in the right direction!

Day 16 - Head Out of the Water

The Day I Dared to Hope

Today, for the first time since this whole ordeal began, I dare to even look at a calendar and "count the days", that is, examine my precision situation from a temporal standpoint.  Up 'til now, I had a general idea of when this journey would end.  "She's coming back in another three weeks," I'd say to inquiring friends, or "In a week and a half my parents come in, and then it'll be much easier."  But I avoided actually taking stock, afraid of how I would feel knowing just how much more time I was due to serve.  But this week I crossed the half-way point, and I knew that before the middle of next week my parents would come and take half the burden from my shoulders, if not more.  So I peeked at the calendar for the first time.  12 days left, indeed, but it doesn't seem so far off.  Maybe I'll even survive, with my sanity intact.

Coming Out of the Shell

Another consequence of feeling the impending release from my figurative bondage is the ability to calmly consider engaging in leisure activities.  While last Friday I did sneak out for a bike ride with a friend, the whole time I was planning it, and even during it, I was sort of cringing inside, thinking of how much I could get done around the house, or work, during that time, and wondering if the kids (Chanania and Noam) were okay at home with an adult they don't really know (a friend of Michal's).

Today, I feel like I've started to regain my normal sense of balance between obligation to the home and family, and commitment to my own needs and desires.  So I went to my regular Kabbalah study session last night with no pangs of guilt, and made up with a friend who wanted me to help him with getting into Android development (he's mostly a Microsoft guy, but I like him anyway).  Maybe dealing with household responsibility overload is like getting into shape - the first few times you work out, you're still out of shape, you're huffing and puffing, your every thought and every fiber in your body is completely devoted to the workout.  You can't talk to anyone else, you can't listen, heck, you can hardly hear.  But every a few training sessions your body gets the hang of it, and even though it's still tough, it doesn't stress you out in that way any more, and you listen to an audiobook or radio show, or even carry on a rudimentary conversation while exercising.  My househusband muscles are getting properly toned!

Day 15 - Doing Our Duties

Work and Play

On my way to the afternoon prayer, I passed through a group of boys, some of them classmates of Binyamin or Chanania, engaged in a very serious water fight.  Water guns, water balloons, the works.

They made me think about why I'm so preoccupied by what needs to get done, and some folk, like this group of kids, are focused primarily on what the want to do.  Some might say, it's that stage of life, when most of the time you do what you do because you have to.  Others might offer a more psychological analysis - perhaps I'm not ready to face my real wants, so I busy myself with the necessary.  I myself feel like there's some of both going on inside of me.

Hospital Blues

I spoke with Michal today over Skype, and got the lowdown on her mother's situation.  Over the course of last week, Anna's condition after the surgery had fluctuated from day to day as her body got used to the new adjustments in her heart, and as the doctors attending to her constantly readjusted her meds, both in type and dosage, in a desperate attempt to stabilize and soothe her heart.  One day her readings were very good, the next day very worrying, and the day after that it wasn't clear, since she was adjusting to the new prescriptions.  

Her daughters, in the meantime, who had left their homes and families in order to support their mother and keep up her cheer, are facing trials and tribulations of their own.  Over the weekend they had been staying in an apartment maintained by the Jewish community of Philadelphia for the sole purpose of allowing family members to be near their loved ones during their stay in the UPenn hospitals, primarily but not exclusively on Shabbat.  On Sunday they were told that they'd overstayed their welcome, and they needed to find another place to stay.  In the end they found a place in a not-so-far-away neighborhood (30 minute walk), an academic acquaintance of Sonya's who had a spare bedroom.  And so, uncooperative 5-month girl and all, they made their move.  Now, instead of being very near the hospital and being able to switch shifts quickly and easily, it's a small commute every time.  Consider the following: 1.) Elisheva (the baby) isn't allowed into the ward, 2.) Elisheva can't be separated from Michal for more than two hours during the day, and 3.) Either Michal or Sonya need to be with their mother all day long.  It's worse than the fox, the chicken, and the grain riddle!  And exhausting, to boot, since each trip is a minor schlep, multiplied by three or four times a day, it's a big schlep!  I don't envy her.  I'd rather just hang out at home with all the kids...

Day 14 - Playing House

I'm Your Mother, I'm Your Father

Amiel (on the pedestal) receives his certification of completion
from the kindergarten teacher

From day one of this journey, I've know I was doubling as the kids' mother, albeit without the finesse that their real mother does it with.  I pack them off to school, greet them when they come up, remind them to eat, force them to change out of dirty clothing, you get the idea.  But today I reached new heights (actually a new low from my standpoint, as you'll see) when I attended Amiel's kindergarten party celebrating a year of fun and learning.  I mentioned in an earlier post that their had been some discussion on this point, seeing as only members of the female persuasion were invited to the event, his mother is out of time, his grandmother will arrive exactly one week late, and his sister has a dress rehearsal for her theater performance later on the same week.  I had decided that no representatives of the family would come, since he didn't seem at all upset at the prospect of being unrepresented.

But then, out of the blue, I got a phone call this morning.  It was Ido, the kindergarten "Rabbi".  He told me that there was at least one other father who was coming on behalf of his wife, who was unable to attend, and so I could come, too, if I wanted.  I didn't want to, truth be told, but I asked Amiel when he got home, and he was very pleased at the prospect.  And so I found myself entering the kindergarten room at 4:30 in the afternoon, wading through a sea of female age peers.  This, is for me, a novel experience, neither pleasant nor interesting.  Due to the cultural biases in our community against mixing of the sexes beyond childhood (unless you're related), I was not about to interact with these women.  Even if I had something to say to them, it would create an awkward situation if I were to try to start a conversation with one of them.  And I didn't have anything to say to any of them, anyway.  Well, actually, there was a moment at the end of the party, after the gifts were given out to the various kindergarten staff, that I did have something to say to someone.  Each gift was presented by a different mother, who read off a short speech saying how much we all appreciated that particular staff member in their particular role in the kindergarten.  The first woman, who presented to "Rabbi" Ido, read off a very eloquent and witty piece, written in rhymed verse.  I was curious to know if she'd written it herself, and she was one of the few women there I did feel free to converse with, since her husband is a good friend of mine, and I've had interaction with her when at their home.  But by that time, I was more interested in getting back to the ranch than discovering latent literary talent.

Lend a Hand

There are times when everything just seems to come together.  A little forethought, some earnest requests for cooperation (some might call it pleading), and whammo! the house has been transformed.  From looking like "a tornado hit it", as my wife likes to remark, to a relative orderly, pleasant living space.  That is what happened this afternoon.  I assembled all the children, delegated tasks, and within 25 minutes, all the laundry (two loads' worth) was folded, all the toys, books, and clothes that were strewn around the living room got put away, the dishes were washed, the floor swept and mop, and I felt pretty good about myself.  This perfect orchestration happened one time so far, and that's good enough for me.  If it happens again, well, that'll really be extra credit, as far as I'm concerned.

Day 13 - Good Times

Family

This afternoon when talking to Michal, we received the the Anna update, which was surprisingly upbeat.  Over the weekend her situation had greatly improved, and she was now up and walking around the ward a few times a day, accompanied by her two daughters.  All the tubes and drips had been removed, except for a single medication that was still being pumped through an IV.  This was way better than what I had expected.  On Wednesday, the day after the operation, she was progressing well, but on Thursday her blood pressure and heart rate had been unstable, and on Friday morning, the last we heard, there was no improvement, despite all the drugs and fluids the doctors had begun to fill her with.

Not so long ago, my mother was in the hospital.
What's with you people?  Can't you just stay healthy?

Whenever in the past years I've been faced with someone I care about being dangerously ill, or even when one of the kids hasn't come home at an unreasonably late hour from somewhere, I tend to do two things.  I pray fervently for their safety, and I tell myself that this might be the end.  It sounds a little morbid, but I think I'd rather not be surprised and shocked if something bad were to actually happen, and on the other hand I get to be very relieved when everything turns out okay.  I did the same thing these past two days, and today I was joyfully relieved to hear that my mother-in-law is back on her feet.

Work

Netbeans - my development environment for this project

I resolved that this week I must finish the app for the aforementioned (in Thursday's post) medical advice website.  I have been having a lot of trouble getting the audio recording to work at all; I was getting only errors, and the documentation for the framework I'm working with was not at all helpful.  Today I figured out the problem, and all of a sudden, from nothing at all, it worked perfectly.  I was very happy.  Maybe I'll finish the whole thing one day.  All that's left is getting the video upload to work properly, then configuring the forum thread comments, and tweaking the admin options, and let's not forget about adding on links to the doctors' tips and the medical calculators, and embedding Youtube videos into the doctors' profiles, and so on.... I'll finish it someday...

Friends

Tonight I had a bachelor buddy over for a beer and some Divrei Torah.  We delved into the myriad implications of the number 40 in Scripture and in the Sages' words.  We discovered that it invariably is used, in both cases, to describe a passage of time that allows for a paradigm shift, whether it's 40 days or 40 years.  After the learning session was over, we stood on the steps for another half hour or so discussing his lack of progress in the search for Miss Right.  There are so many in his situation, successful, smart, good-looking, emotionally balance eligible religious bachelors and bachelorettes, endlessly going on dates and years and years go by before they can settle on a mate.  It's already been recognized as a community-wide crisis, the 'community' here being used in the broader sense, the non-Haredi religious community.  In recent years, special seminars and workshops aiming to let these eternal bachelors and old maids let go of whatever's holding them back from tying the knot.  I don't have any professional knowledge or experience in the field, but I do have a strong intuition about individuals I get to know.  So I gave him a piece of my mind -- not in any forceful way -- and he remarked at the end of the conversation that I really opened something up in him, that he felt something being to turn, to change, in his perception of the whole process.  It always feels right to get external confirmation on things you know deep down to be a certain way.

One student's writing implements, notes, and practice parchment that he never
even bothered to pick up from me after quitting towards the end of the course

Just as he was leaving, another guy showed up, a scribe from Tel Aviv who I've been giving guidance and advice for some time, much moreso recently as he crossed over from his 'native' Sefardic writing style and began to serve the Ashkenazic market as well.  We talked about his writing, his marketing, about pricing, and finally about my own recent withdrawal from the profession.  He urged me to stay active to some extent, since my knowledge and experience can be a great asset to others.  He prodded me to teach, instruct young students in the art of ritual scribery and all the laws connected to it.  The truth, before I stopped writing I was teaching, mostly on an invidividual basis, and I enjoyed it more than any other application of the profession.  The problem was that the students were not as dedicated as the teacher, and basically not a single one every completed the course of acquiring the necessary skills and applying them by writing a scroll.  They all just lost their impetus toward the end of learning the letters, a few even starting the scroll, but never finishing.  I don't know why this happened, but my friend suggested that it was due to the fact that my prices were too low.  "All the students of Yehezkel Yehezkel finish out the course," he put forth, invoking the name of the most well known Sefardic scribe in the country, and probably in the whole world, who takes upwards of $1000 from students who want to learn the trade from his hand.  "They paid so much money, they have to finish," he continued.  I take 500 ILS, about $120-$130 for overhead, and another 100 ILS ($25) per lesson.  On average, the student starts writing on his own after 12-15 lessons.  I have a severe inhibition in regards to charging customers or students more than what I feel is what I deserve.  That was one of the points of failure in my business attempt three years ago, and it still haunts me today in my new profession.  I'm hoping working for someone else will render this deficiency irrelevant.  As for returning to teaching ritual wriitng, I haven't decided yet.  Time will tell.

Day 11 - Time to Get Away

Out on My Own

I have needed to get out for some time, hoping and longing for an opportunity to get away from the house and the kids, if only for a few hours, preferably in an outdoor setting.  On Friday that opportunity finally arrived.  There's a very nice guy from my neighborhood, loosely associated with the yeshiva, who is a major biking enthusiast.  He organized a group of likeminded folk (half the group is compromised of friends of mine) to hit the trails at least once a week.  Every Friday morning the load up the gear and head out, and there are sporadic trips in the middle of the week as well.  I joined their WhatsApp group some time ago, and the almost daily discussion of where to ride, when to leave, who's going in which car, etc. have been fostering my appetite.  I decided this week I was going to join them for the first time, or bust!   Michal and I hatched a plan that would allow this to happen.  Chanania would stay home to play with Noam, and she would ask a friend to come over so the kids would have an adult presence around.  I got the other kids out early, with Binyamin's help, and at eight o'clock sharp headed over to Daniel, the bike guy's, house to load up my bike and head out.  We drove to the Ben Shemen forest, the largest planted (by the JNF) forest in the country, and one rife with hiking and biking trails.  

In the Ben Shemen forest, one month prior

As it turns out, this is a very popular spot for a Friday morning bike ride.  The combination of its proximity to the Tel Aviv metropolitan area, combined with the only day most people are off of work, but don't need to go to shul/take the kids to the beach (depending on your persuasion), resulted in the fact that when we arrived I thought there was some sort of mountain bike convention going on there.  That day, by some fluke, none of the regular guys could come, so it was just me and Daniel, who is a semi-professional guide and instructor in the arts of riding and decking yourself out for the ride.  We suited up and started on the trail, he occasionally giving me tips or demonstrating proper technique for going over large rocks or dealing with gravelly conditions, me just really enjoying being on my bike in the forest, feeling the wind on my face and seeing green and sky instead of cars, pavement, and buildings.  The ride was sweet, but too short, and by eleven we were back in the car, on our way to Ramat Gan again.  I felt refreshed and relaxed, kind of like taking a long shower after working out in the sun all day, and following up with an ice-cold lemonade.

Shabbat in the Mountains

On the Jerusalem light rail

I made up with our long-lost (and long found) cousins who live in the Judean mountains to spend Shabbat. Yishai Ben Mordechai (formerly Perlin, mentioned in a previous post) grew up in Florida, and made aliya in his twenties, followed shortly by brother Asher, and much later by sister Becky, and eventually his widowed mother came over, too.  He settled in the quaint and quiet town of Kochav HaShachar, which is effectively in the middle of nowhere but has a view that covers half the width of the state.  We are second cousins, once removed, with a 15-year age gap between us, but we happened to have learned in the same yeshiva (not at the same time), and we have a lot in common.  He married a girl from New York, Hannah (don't recall her maiden name), and they're going to be grandparents very soon, since their eldest, Moriah (20) is due around Rosh HaShana.  We used to visit them more often, when we had fewer children, but the last time we were at their house was more than five years past.  Before we left the house on Friday Binyamin asked me why we don't go to them like we used to.  The trip there was more than enough of a reminder why not.  Two long bus rides, with a stint on the light rail connecting them, resulted in us leaving the house before two o'clock and arriving close to five.

Relaxing on a swing before Shabbat.  Standing next to them is cousin Yishai

Shabbat was a very positive experience for everyone: I got to reconnect with my cousins, and share experiences and issues relating to child rearing and family maturation processes, as well as not having to spend Shabbat feeling lonely and isolated watching the kids by myself.  Some of the kids made (or re-made) new friends, they all got to experience a different kind of environment, and on Shabbat afternoon I took them to feed the goats someone keeps just beyond the last row of houses.  That, if fact, was the highlight of the whole weekend for some of them.  At the end of Shabbat Binyamin remarked that he really liked it there, because it was as quiet and Shabbat-friendly as Bnei Brak, but in a rural setting, not stinky and crowded like Bnei Brak.  A good friend of his is moving there in about two weeks, so he may begin to make more frequent visits, on his own.  

Everyone came home with smiles on their faces, ready to set in for one more week of just the six of us.  It's the last week we have to pass on our own.  I hope it will be no harder than the first two.

Photo was taken next to the goats, 1.5 blocks from the Ben Mordechai homestead

Day 9 - We All Just Need A Break

Screw This, I'm Going on Vacation

Today I felt like I needed a break.  And the kids, too.  A break from the intensity of trying to get everything done, a break from disciplining them, a break from our near-Spartan policies of restricting sweets and other non-necessities.  So today became a little flamboyant.  I'm a big believer in a routine of self-discipline punctuated by letting loose now and then.  If, on the one hand, a person sticks to their principles fanatically, the likelihood is that at some point they'll just run out of steam.  On the other hand, no structure is just anarchy, and creates a situation in which it's very hard to stay on task.  Therefore the combination gives you the best of both worlds.  In our house it's Michal who's in charge of staying on task, and I provide the spunk.  But when she's gone, I have to do both.

So for dinner I made them smoothies and grilled cheese sandwiches, instead of the usual whole-grain-with-a-legume with only water to drink.  Then, after everyone had eaten their fill the three boys took a bath together, and I let them run around naked and screeching like monkeys for a while before I started herding them toward their pajamas.  We capped off the evening with half an episode of the Israeli version of Sesame Street (which seems to have discontinued in the 80's, but the kids barely even noticed the poor quality).  All in all, they seemed to have appreciated it.  I certainly did.

Here is a recording of the boys running around after the bath.

Asak*

In less than three weeks the school year ends around here.  You can feel it in the way the kids talk about school, even though not a word is uttered about vacation, what they're planning to do or even if they're looking forward to it.  But the ease at which they are willing to consider missing class for rather trivial reasons bespeaks very clearly of their unvoiced feelings.  I, like my children, found the experience of attending grade school to be uninteresting and unchallenging, sometimes bordering on loathsome.  But we dealt with it in different ways.  I was such a little goody-two-shoes that I could only dream of not doing my homework, let alone skip class.  I just sucked it up and put up with the boredom, the slow pace and general humdrummedness (did I make that word up?), and eventually I graduated and left it all behind.  My children, it seems, have less patience than I did.  

Binyamin struggling with Cartesian coordinates

If Chanania finds the math exercises too boring, he spaces off or leafs through the workbook instead.  When the teacher writes us a note in his personal planner reminding us to prod him about finishing the assignment, not only does he not show us or say anything about said note, he also scribbles over it so throughly that it's completely illegible.  The days in which he got to school on time this year I could probably count on my fingers and toes.

Binyamin, in addition to having absolutely no interest in written assignments, he has the occasional scrape with certain classmates who seem to have it in for him, whereafter he announces that he's never going back to school again.  Once or twice he made good on his threat, and after I literally kicked him out of the house in the morning, he spent the day hanging out in a public park, returning home in the afternoon.  On suspicion, I questioned him as to his whereabouts during the day, and he admitted unabashedly that he dhadn't set foot on the school grounds.

Avigail carries on her parents' legacy of being loyal to the system.  Too much so, in fact, bursting into tears if we make her go to bed instead of allowing her to finish homework that's due the next day.  She just doesn't know when to stop.  This year, in addition to the regular schoolwork (and after skipping a grade over last summer), she has piano lessons, plays in the advanced recorder choir, attends the school's "Bible Club", so to speak, and competes in their seasonal Bible Bees, is involved in the Drama Club (second production of the year is next week), and has youth group activities she can't bear to miss, twice a week.  When does she eat? sleep? brush her hair? talk on the phone with friends (she is a preteen, after all)?  Well, besides for talking on the phone, which she thankfully hasn't discovered yet, she somehow fits everything in.  But I'm sure she's also looking forward to summer vacation.

All the highlighted messages are oustanding issues.
This is just three weeks worth, and some of them I already took care of.

And as for me, my work life is supposed to intensify greatly at the same moment the kids get let off of school for the summer.  On July 1, the official first day of summer break, I start my first real job ever.  But this is always a break for me, in many ways.  Currently I spend most of my time working for one guy, an offbeat Breslev hasid who lives near Haifa, and is an accomplished Internet entrepeneur, highly experienced at SEO, and atypically doesn't seem to do very much business with other Orthodox folk.  The main gig I've been working on for him is a medical experts forum site (www.medonline.co.il).  He first had some teenager writing the code for him, but then, all of a sudden, this talented young programmer was drafted into the army.  The site was about 90% functional, or so it seemed at first, and he took me on to put on the finishing touches and churn out Android and iPhone apps for the forums.  We started back in November.  I'm still working on pinning down the last few bugs, and adding minor features, some of which the original programmer didn't get to, but many of which he decided to add on later in the game.  

It's not that there was so many months of work there, but the code was so disorganized and poorly written, it made bug fixes and additions very painstaking.  It was sort of like asking a high-caliber interior designer to come renovate an 100-year-old hovel.  Not that I'm such a hotshot programmer,  but I do pride myself on writing clean, clear, and well-organized code, to the best of my ability.  And here's this guy coding this enormous and complex website in PHP, with no framework, no abstraction of methods, barely and resemblance of a template for the HTML, just one big mess.  So a little ways into the work, I told the Breslever that for ease of maintenance and in order to improve security, the code has to be refactored into an appropriate framework.  His response?  We don't have the budget for that right now.  Maybe next year...  And so it dragged on, and on, and on.  It would be one thing if it was just that work that was annoying, but this guy's communications habits are as disorganized as the teenage whiz kid's code.  He would regularly send me email, text messages, and WhatsApp messages about the same issue, oftentimes repeating himself word for word, sometimes up to 15 messages a day.  At first he wanted us to have a single, monolithic email conversation on which we would correspond, but important notes were getting buried as new messages were added to the conversation.  So he would begin a new conversation for every CSS adjustment or text wording correction.   So my inbox was filled to the brim with his messages, until I couldn't take it any more, and a few weeks ago I forced him to start communicating with me via Trello, a fantastic organizational and collaboration browser/mobile app.  Now I only get 2-3 emails a day, because, I suppose, he just can't resist.  Getting my new job has allowed me to refuse to accept any more work from him (he has another five new features for the site, and three whole projects already lined up for me), and I feel like I'm about to be set free.  Now I just have to figure out to make this app record audio properly, for the forum voice post functionality...

Our original correspondence.  46 messages from about two weeks, in November

Day 8 - Nonstop Self-discovery

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

One side benefit of my current situation is that I am forced to be deal with questions that I normal don't bother thinking about, concerning situations I would otherwise not be involved in.  For instance, next week Amiel has a party in preschool/kindergarten (it's mixed ages), celebrating the completion of learning the entire Alef-Bet.  The preschool is public, but pretty much run by our yeshiva-based community, and conforms to its somewhat strict (depends on your perspective, of course, another 100 meters north you enter Bnei Brak and there you won't find any mixed gender kindergartens whatsoever) code of interaction between adults of opposite genders.  Therefore each time parents of only one particular gender are invited to attend and watch their children perform some kind of dance or other show that is the main event of the party.  For obvious reasons, the mothers are usually the ones invited to such things, as is the case with the party next week.  Under circumstances wherein Michal can't attend, Avigail would go in her stead, armed with some kind of photographic apparatus.  This time, Avigail can't go either.  That same afternoon she has dress rehearsal for a play that her drama club is putting on the next night, and she has a fairly major role in it (there are only 11 girls in the production).  

And now the question is: What shall we do with poor Amiel?  He'll be so distraught and dejected if noone comes to see him dance!  It was suggested by my overseas advisor to invite the same great-aunt who took two kids last week to the light show in Jerusalem.  "She'd be more than happy to come," she assured me.  Hold on, let me get this straight -- we're going to ask her to cut out of work early and travel approximately two hours each way, so that Amiel will have someone cheering him on in the crowd?   I told her what Amiel had told me earlier that day, after he found out that Avigail had a serious schedule conflict.  He said that the kindgarten teacher (also named Michal) told them that anyone whose mother can't attend, she'll temporarily adopt them, so they'll have her as their maternal standin.  Amiel then concluded, "So she'll be my mama for the party!"  He didn't seem the least bit upset.  Problem solved.

My analog journals.  The dates on the inside covers, from left to right:
Nov 2, 1995, June 18, 1996, April 24, 1997, April 2, 2000

Those kinds of interactions are interesting, but I think the most significant positive impact for me this trip has had is this blog itself.  At age 14 I started keeping a diary.  Not a record of events, but of thoughts and feelings.  I wrote about everything that I was going through in my most formative years, including the entire process of becoming religious/observant, relationships I had, and the decision and execution of making aliya.  After getting married the diary entries slowly taper off, becoming fewer and farther between.  The last entries were written on our last trip stateside, in 2009.  I'm not entirely sure why I stopped writing, but part of it was the fact that it didn't feel right keeping a private log of a life I now shared completely with another person.  This blog. as a public chronicle rather than a private, secret journal, sits much better with me and my current state of being.  I do believe that I will continue to write, even after the month is over.  But probably not every day...

Hold Your Breath, Cross Your Fingers, and Pray

Today, in a few short hours, my mother-in-law goes under the knife in an attempt to mend a heart condition she's been suffering from for years, hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy, or mitral valve disease.  We ask everyone to pray, say a few kopitel of tehillim, think positive thoughts, or whatever you think could help, to support her in getting through the operation and recovering afterwards.  For those who want to mention her name in prayer, it's Anna bat Michlya Freida.

Life-threatening conditions, and the operations, no less life-threatening themselves, that people undergo in order to be saved from them, raise all sorts of questions.  As a bystander, I'm more interested in the questions that pertain to the people who care about the person whose life is at stake, so to speak.  Should I prepare myself for the worst possible outcome?  Or should I think only positive thoughts, and focus on what will need to be done for the recovering patient, assuming the best (or at least not the worst) outcome?  I think most people would agree that not writing up a will after a certain advanced age is irresponsible, if not downright reprehensible (because of the arguments in the family the lack of a will can create), but it doesn't necessarily follow from that that one should be occupied by the eventuality of death, even when it's statistically imminent.  I apologize for the rather morbid post, but you can't always be upbeat about everything.  Death, as they say, is just a part of life...

Day 7 - My New Life

Work at Home Dad By Day, Housewife By Night

Born to play

I'm settling into my new life.  All day long I go about my daily routine with an out for dirty dishes that need to migrated to the sink, and forgotten pajamas that need to returned to their drawer.  When I plan out my day, I make sure to leave room for laundry, preparing a batch of bread (in the bread machine), cutting kids' nails, or cooking a meal for five hungry mouths.  As for myself, I no longer feel the need to change my clothes, and I subsist off of children's unfinished food.  Here I pick up a carrot end and shove it in my mouth, there I down half a bowl of rice forgotten at the table, supplemented by a couple of apple slices someone lost interest in.

This morning I rode down to the bank (with Noam in the child seat, as always) to deposit a check.  The bank is situated right on the edge of this magnificent park, with a properly outfitted playground.  Actually two -- one for big kids and one for little kids.  For some reason I wasn't feeling rushed, so I offered Noam to go play for a little while on the swings.  Around the playground were a young mother with her 2-year-old daughter, and a trio of grandmothers watching grandchildren.  I felt like I belonged!  Sad, but true.

Together Again

He totally deserves all the attention he gets

Noam and I have been constant companions even since he was a year old.  When Michal went back to work, I was in school two days a week.  He went to a babysitter for two mornings, and the rest of the days he was in my care.  When I finished school at the end of last summer, he stopped going to the babysitter.  I took care of his every need, and if I needed to go anywhere, well, I just took him with.  It was as if the first paragraph of Shema Yisrael was referring to him: "When you lie down, when you get up, sitting in your house and walking on the way..."  Our close companionship was interrupted only when his mother brought him home a baby sister.  With her on maternity leave, I no longer had to be with him at all times, but a very special bond remained between us.  Not that she's out of the picture, we've gone back to our old gig.  I just mention that we need to go somewhere, he runs to get his hat and sandals.  He utters some semi-intelligible monosyllabic, and I know he wants a drink, or needs both stuffed dogs before he can take his nap.  We have an understanding that's not easy to come by.  But what does it mean if my closest companion is 1/17th of my age?