4 In The House, 1 In The Dorm - Day 5

Day 5

Thursday morning.  The last day of the work week, and the first day of summer vacation for Avigail.  Therefore she was awarded the privilege of taking the kids to gan.  Since I had left my bike near work with a flat, I took the bus, intending to purchase a new inner tube (and possible tire) at a bike shop near where I switch buses.  After walking the two and a half blocks and picking out a tire, I discovered I had left my credit card at home and had no other means of payment.  I apologized to the bike store owner and dejectedly walked back to the bus, rode to the stop near where my bike was, and walked it to work (grateful that it hadn't been stolen over night).

When I got to work, I discovered a slack message from a coworker who is more of a bike enthusiast even than I am, offering me his spare inner tube that he keeps in his bag, free of charge.  The heavens were smiling down on me again.

At work the problems with the imagery preprocessing software bogging us done became intolerable, and we had a very intense yet brief meeting about it, which resulted in a resolution to run more comprehensive tests in order to better isolate the actual bug.  Research on the subpixel shift continued.  I started writing a test suite to ensure data integrity for the training data for our crop classification algorithm.

Every Thursday, the company buys us lunch (ordered from some local restaurant) and we all eat together, at one table (8-10 employees, depending on who's in town).  This Thursday, a random young woman ask to join us, before she realized we were an organic group.  She decided to stay on anyway, and as we told her about what we do, she realized she'd applied for a job at the company, over a year ago.  Small world.  She herself is a developer working remotely for Elasticsearch.

After work, I walked my bike back to the gas station, and waited for an inordinate amount of time for other patrons (mostly on two-wheeled vehicles) to finish using the air.  Then I was able to ride home, powering my wheels with my own two legs, just the way I like it.

Once I got home, getting the kids into bed went fairly routinely.  At night, I popped over to my parents' place, where I tried to help them figure out why the very recently purchased TV's speakers had stop producing sound.  I talked to Michal over Skype and tried to help her find a place to go for Shabbat, since in her parent's home there is no Shabbat observance, nor in their neighborhood.  She'd originally made up with her 6th grade teacher, with whom she never lost touch, but the discrepancy in the weekly Torah reading had caused a grave miscommunication.  Religious folk often find referring to weekends by their weekly reading more convenient and relatable than calendar dates.  Michal gave her the name of the Torah portion, meaning this weekend, but her host understood that she was referring to next weekend (see here for how this can happen). 

At first, she thought of going to Lakewood, NJ, where she has a few old friends who live a very large yeshiva-based community.  But there have been some recent cases of measles in Lakewood, and Moriah (age 2) has not been vaccinated for measles, so that option was out.  I messaged some friends via Facebook who live in the area, but in the end (this I found out on Friday afternoon) she found a host family through the brother of a friend from Ramat Gan (who grew up in New York).

As for our Shabbat plans, my mother and I planned out a scrumptious menu.

4 In The House, 1 In The Dorm - Day 4

Day 4

The morning went very smoothly.  I awoke (as usual) from the nudging of a child, this time Chanania, with my alarm still ringing next to me.  The time was 7:25.  By 8:29 I was at the gate of the gan with my two young ones.  

At work a great part of the day was spent dwelling on the shocking discovery, made by the head of the remote sensing team, that nearly two months of collective banging of heads against the wall over what seemed to be an elusive bug in the Gamma software we used to prepare the satellite imagery was in vain, and the bug was in fact in the python wrapper that our own algorithm developer had written.  Since there has been a lot of tension between him and other members of our team over the high-handed way he deals with everyone, there was a lot of poorly hidden smirking going on.  The CTO, needless to say, was not pleased by the whole thing, particularly by the lost time and wasted resources.  Later, I helped the only female member of our team, the web platform developer, with some SQL queries.  In between, I discussed how to curb server costs in light of the impending end of our year in the accelerator program (which involves them giving loads of free credits) on the Amazon Web Services platform.  On the way back from mincha I stopped to chat with a homeless man who has set up camp in an empty lot between my building and the one where the minyan  happens, surprising and impressing my buddy from the knee therapy company on the third floor who also comes to that minyan.  It wasn't a spontaneous act - I've been friendly with this particular homeless man for a couple of months.  His name is Aharon, and he came to Israel from Georgia (in Asia, not the US).  He's divorced, with a grown son in Bat Yam.  I give a few shekels now and then, and like to ask him how he's doing.  He never complains.

At 5:30 I left the office, only to discover that my bike had a flat tire.  I knew that if I took the bus my parents would be charged with the responsibility of putting the kids to bed, a fate I wished to spare them.  So I walked the bus to the nearest gas station, to check if the leak in the tire was small enough to allow me to get home (or at least to the next gas station).  But alas, no dice - the tire shrank within seconds of being inflated.  I lock up the bike, and opened my public transportation app.  I saw little dots on the map all around me, dockless electric scooters waiting to be ridden.  The first scooters of this genre arrived in Tel Aviv in the last year, and I had yet to take a ride on one.  Mostly I was hesitant to mount an electric vehicle with no helmet on, and if I had a helmet with me, that meant I was on my bike.  Now was the perfect opportunity.  I downloaded the Lime scooter app, walked a block to the nearest one, and started my ride.  I took a short detour in order to get used to the thing before riding it on the main ride.  From the start it was a disappointment.  The scooter didn't go as fast as I could on my bike, the brake was hard to use, the tiny wheels seemed to magnify every bump and crack in the road, and in general it wasn't as much fun as it looked.  I felt kind of silly, just standing there, cruising along in traffic, instead of actually making the vehicle move with my own body.  As I neared my neighborhood, half an hour later, it occurred to me there is something about the electric scooter experience that makes it feel like a video game.  Driving the thing requires very little effort, and unlike a car, you're not cut off from the action all around you.  The same web developer I helped with her database queries rides an electric scooter (which she owns, not a rental like mine) to work every day, and is a semi-serious gamer (as well as a mother of four).  It all made sense now.

This is a photo for illustrative purposes only, not an advertisement for Lime scooters

At home, the kids were calmly occupied by my mother.  I fed them a small meal (she reported that they'd had one and a half lunches at her place) and started moving them towards bed.  They get in a Skype call with their mother and siblings who are halfway around the world, and a book, before I hugged them goodnight.  Chanania, who had been at my parent's house, showed up around 8:30 and started telling me endless anecdotes about the play rehearsal they'd put on today in front of the 5th grade (he's in 6th), and about how some little kids in the school had trouble recognizing him when he was even partially in costume.  Finally, after 10 o'clock, he retreated to the roof to sleep, and I sat down to catch up on the blog.  20 minutes in, I hear footsteps outside.  Today was Avigail's last day of school (high schools finish earlier than elementary for some reason), and in the evening she had gymnastics practice.  She ceremoniously presented her report card to me.  I glanced at it, shocked at the predominance of the number 100 in the score column, then realized that my report cards didn't look much different when I was her age.  She did a few flips onto the mattress, just as a matter of habit, then put herself to bed.  I finished yesterday's blog post and kept on typing.

4 In The House, 1 In The Dorm - Day 3

Day 3

I awoke on an old mattress, in the living room, around 7 o'clock, children of all ages milling about, having their morning snacks and terrorizing one another.  It took me a few minutes to piece together where I was and what I was supposed to today.  Today is Tuesday.  Tuesday is my day off from work - the day I don't go into the office, usually spent running errands and trying to finish off old side projects that I still owe people.  The morning routine went smoothly, but the little ones weren't being super cooperative, so we only got out the door at 8:27.  Par for the course.

I made my way from the gan to a so-called minyan factory in nearby Bnei Brak, but much of the service I was peering and poking around the various rooms, hoping to recover a much-beloved siddur that is MIA as of last Friday.  I believe I went to morning minyan in that very place on Friday.  I had no luck with the siddur, and returned home slightly dejected.

The first thing I did at home was look at my phone to see if there were any urgent notifications.  I had a missed call and two Slack messages from my co-worker who had caused me frustration the other day.  He urgently needed my help sorting out a small mess he got himself into when trying to do a routine operation with git, the code versioning system we use.  I spent over an hour with him on the phone, connected remotely to his computer, alternately trying to calm him down, berating him for invoking git commands without understanding their full import, and encouraging him to invest real time in understanding the underlying assumptions and structure of the code versioning system.  In the end his code was restored in full, we had an actionable plan for preventing such blunders in the future, and he apologized for taking up so much of my time on my day off.

Then I spent another hour finishing off the blog post from the day before, and ending up wrestling with the iCloud Photos app for way too long while trying to transfer photos Avigail took at the party to my computer so I could feature them in the blog.  Binyamin called to say he had made himself an eye exam appointment for 1 pm, and would stop by the house beforehand.  I was glad that he was taking care of it, and sent a text to his class Rabbi to excuse him from school.  All of sudden, it was almost noon, and I had gotten zilch done so far.  Par for the course.

The afternoon was characterized by various members of the household going in and out of the house.  First it was Binyamin, who popped in before rushing out to make his appointment.  40 minute later he was back.  He volunteered to pick up the kids from gan, which they certainly found surprising.  After they settled in and began eating lunch, Chanania showed up, but left an hour or two later.  Avigail also came in at some point and then left shortly thereafter to attend a piano lesson and go see the middle school's end-of-the-year theater production.  

I was left attending to the two little ones throughout all of this, feeding them and goading them along to do whatever it is I thought they should be doing.  After they finished eating, which in itself took far longer than it ought to, since they couldn't stay seated between bites, I tried to just sit down at the computer and ignore them.  This strategy oftentimes works, as the children take out a game or make some other form of entertainment for themselves.  But today, perhaps due to the fact that their brackets - immediately younger and older siblings - being away, they wanted nothing more than to sit on my lap, or better yet, cling to my back or climb on my head.  This was not conducive to writing code or debugging UI glitches.  I tried offering them to go to the park, but there really wasn't anyone around to take them there.  Since Tuesday was officially my day off, and since my parents were on afternoon duty the rest of the week, I told them they weren't needed today, and they'd taken the opportunity to enjoy some of the touristy parts of Tel Aviv.  So I couldn't invoke them for help, either.  In the end, I took the kids to the park myself.  

When we got to the park, the kids disparagingly remarked that there was nobody to play with, by which they meant they didn't have any friends there (at least a dozen kids were playing on the playground equipment).  After trying to convince them to play with each other for a few minutes, I gave up and invited them to the nearby outdoor gym.  There I invented fun challenges for them, using each other as weights (I had to help Elisheva lift Noam).  As soon as we had made the rounds on all the machines, Binyamin showed up.  He was heading back to yeshiva, and had just come to say goodbye before leaving.  I gave him a hug and bid him well.  We'd been in the park for only about half an hour, but I was running out of ideas and the kids were already losing interest, so I decided to head back home.

Avigail was home, briefly, which provided a distraction for Elisheva while I gave Noam a long overdue haircut.  After that I leisurely fed the kids and eased them into bed.  Chanania was anxious to gather props for a school play he was participating in, and since I had just received a text from my parents saying they were back from their outing, I sent him over there to try to nab a pair of extra reading glasses from his grandfather (he had been cast as an old man in the play).  After he left, a woman called saying she could send a pair of glasses without lenses with her son to school in the morning (apparently Michal had sent a note on the community WhatsApp group for women requesting help with the props).

I took care of a few more things around the house, and then planned to go over to my parents myself.  Just before I left the house, I got a Skype call from Amiel.  I told him I'd call him back from the other apartment.  When I arrived there, I found Chanania and my father on the patio, constructing a bamboo cane to embellish the character.  I told them that the reading glasses were no longer needed, and then went off to find some of my mom's scrumptious cookies.  The cookies were residing in a brand new glass cookie jar, which had been inaugurated only the day before.  I grabbed the lid to open it, but the jar came with it.  Before I had a chance to put it down, the lid released its hold and the jar shattered on the countertop.  I felt terrible, and promptly cleaned up all the broken glass, carefully brushing off each cookie from shards before setting it aside.  They were delicious, indeed.

I then placed the cookies in a plastic hummus container.  Later, when I was leaving, I searched everywhere and couldn't find the container with the cookies.  Finally I looked back in the cupboard with the empty containers, and there it was - I'd replaced the container to its original place, after filling it up.  My dad remarked that I seem to be short on sleep.  I laughed and said, "You have no idea!"

I returned the Skype call.  Amiel (and his mother) needed help tuning the violin.  Again.  After making some general suggestion which were not well received by the people on the end with the violin, Amiel concluded that they just need to follow through with the plan I voiced before they'd left - to bring it to any music store and ask someone there to do them the favor of tuning it. 

Amiel with his pesky violin

The call didn't last very long, and I opened my computer and began to work on a project from last year that isn't quite finished yet, working on adding glowing arrows to the app in order to hint to users to move an animated smile with their finger.  Chanania went home, and us adults were having a screen party -

I was on my laptop, my mom on her iPad and my dad on his laptop.  The room was silent, but for the clicking of the keys on the keyboard.  Around midnight I finished the glowing arrows and said goodnight to my folks. 

Back home, I was very sleepy, but after brushing my teeth I perked up a bit, and felt the need to stick to my guns and send off the blog post.  I sat down, added two paragraphs to what I'd started in the morning, and succumbed to my exhaustion.

4 In The House, 1 In The Dorm - Day 2

Epilogue to Day 1

Last night, in the afterhours, I did a few chores around the house - baked the bread dough that Avigail and the bread machine had prepared, loaded the dishwasher.  And then, intimidated by the empty bed that awaited me, zoned out to Youtube videos for about an hour before actually climbing into bed.  I set my alarm for 6:40 just like the day before.

Day 2

I was awoken in the morning by Elisheva, who was standing by my bed and asking me to help her to get ready so she go early to gan.  I glanced at my phone, which was still ringing from the alarm I'd set.  It read 7:13.  The gan opens its gates at 7:30, so I figured by the time I get up and get both kids ready, we'll be able to leave the house right away. 

This morning, the kids demonstrated just how responsible they can when there is no one looking over their shoulder, nagging them to get things done.  Chanania asked me if today is the right day to feed Amiel's fish, over which he'd been placed in charge of in Amiel's absence.  Elisheva, excited about her year-end party in gan (yesterday Noam's gan had their party), dressed herself in a holiday outfit.  Afterwards, Avigail reminded her that the party is not now, but in the afternoon, so she wear regular clothes, and Elisheva changed again.  Avigail, who had been selected by Elisheva to be her parent figure at the party, asked me which phone she can use to take pictures at the party, since her phone has a real crappy camera on it.  

At a quarter to eight I left the house with the two preschoolers, by which time the two older children had already gotten themselves ready and left for their respective schools.  After I dropped them off in gan (today I was allowed to accompany them into the building, since we were early), I continued another two blocks down the street to find a minyan that started at 8 o'clock, which was exactly the time I arrived there.  

I returned home after minyan was over and decided to commit the first half of this blog post to audio, as a means of quickly jotting down my thoughts, before leaving for work.  I packed my bag, mounted my bike, and left for work.  At work, just before lunch, I got frustrated with my only other team member for not wanting to put in the effort to properly learn methodologies for working with componentized code packages in a development environment.  Over lunch we kind of made up.  At the end of the day we encountered a confounding issue wherein our processed data suffered from a sub-pixel shift in comparison to the original satellite imagery.  Just before going home I made a minor breakthrough when I discovered that they seem to have different approaches to applying geographic coordinates to each pixel - one relates to the center of the pixel, while the other draws the pixel with its top left corner anchored at the coordinate.  Filling in for Michal, I reminded Binyamin to make an optometrist appointment so he doesn't get in trouble when he shows up for his first interview at the draft office in two weeks.

I rode home and arrived at 6 o'clock sharp.  The house was devoid of life, the windows all closed and shuttered.  It seemed like nobody had been home since I left the house in the morning.  I sat down and relaxed after peeling off a layer of clothing, then notified my parents that I was home.  They said they'd send Noam home on his own.  Elisheva was still at the party in gan with Avigail.  They all arrived a few minutes later, pretty much at the same time.  Elisheva showed me the special siddur (prayerbook) she'd received in gan, and the fancy hair styling that Avigail had made her for the party.  

The party in gan.  Elisheva is wearing a pink dress

 It was 6:30, and I slowly, quietly, began to encourage them to come shower so they could put on pajamas and get into bed, aiming to be done with the whole process around 7:30.  Noam asked if we could play on the tumbling mat a game he dubbed chalukat hechalal, which is a nonsense combination literally meaning "the divvying up of outer space".  In the game, the kids bounce on the mat (which is actually just an old spring mattress) and I pull their feet from underneath them, flip them over onto the mat, and other assorted Abba-assisted stunts.  Don't ask me how he came up with that name - he has a knack for labeling even mundane objects with bizarre names.  For instance, there was a stretch when he called the little slide in our living room "The Luberman".  Funny kid. 

The Luberman

I told him we could play, but only after they're both ready for bed.  20 minutes later he still hadn't come to the shower, spending most of that time lolling upside down on the back of the couch.  Then he remembered he was hungry.  After some haggling over what he could eat, I offered him toast with guacamole (prepared by my mother for last Shabbat), and his eyes lit up.  In the meanwhile, Elisheva was refusing to take off the outfit she wore to the party, and not only that, but she was refusing to answer any questions about moving towards bed.

Thus we continued on until I realized that I need to leave the house.  Usually I would catch a minyan for mincha, the afternoon prayer, at an office building near mine, at 1:15.  Today I was unable to attend, so now, at 7: 35, was my last chance at mincha.  I asked Avigail to continue the going to bed process with them, and skedaddled.

I returned to the house at 8 o'clock.  Much progress had been made.  Elisheva was in pajamas, and Noam had finished eating.  I brushed his teeth and deposited them in their beds.  Elisheva, still being terse, wanted to be covered with a sheet, or maybe not actually, but then again... I gave up trying to interpret her murmurs and left her calling after me as I left their bedroom.  I sat down at my computer to try to get some things done, and the phone rang.  It was a Skype call from the missing family members.

After some small talk, we got down to business.  Amiel, who has playing violin for less than a year, has a recital in three weeks.  In order to continue practicing he brought the violin with him on the trip, but when flying with string instruments, it's recommended to loosen the strings, lest the pressure differences cause damage to them or the instrument body.  Now he, and his mother, were having a lot of trouble tuning the darned thing.  I was reminded of Humpty-Dumpty (who, BTW, was actually the name of a cannon that the rebels knocked off the castle walls in an uprising against the monarchy in England, sometime in the 13th or 14th century).

For the better part of an hour Michal, I, and the tuning app she had on her phone all worked together to try to tune the violin.  The problem was, even when a string would sound right, since her fingers weren't accustomed to applying the kind of force needed to keep the pegs stuck firmly in place, by the time she tuned the rest of the them the first one would go flaccid again.  In the end we said "good enough for a 9 year old who can barely squeak out a tune".

A while later she called back again, after even the older kids were in bed.  This time Moriah (age 2y) was up from her nap, smiling and giggling, but sad that she hadn't yet seen a single squirrel (while she was asleep they went for a walk and saw a bunch, but when they took her out for a stroll all the squirrels were apparently hiding - or napping themselves).  We talked and updated each other on things.  Michal had to struggle to keep the kids from succumbing to the jetlag and sleeping in the middle of the day.  We hung up shortly after midnight.

I retreated to the tumbling mat with a game on my mobile phone, planning to play for a little while and then go to bed.  Instead, I ended up falling asleep right there.  I set no alarm.  I didn't even brush my teeth.

Single Parent, Reloaded

Last night Michal left for the States to visit her parents, with two small children accompanying her on her journey.  Once more I am father-of-five, although this time for just over two weeks.  And this time I have backup from day one, in the form of my dedicated parents.  And just as I realized I was in the same situation as I was upon the inception of this blog, almost exactly four years ago, the itch to blog through single parenthood returned.

I have an unfinished blog series from last summer, and an unfinished post from two summers ago.  This time, I told myself, I wouldn't be so ambitious.  This time, I told myself, the daily blog will be a simple accounting of what happened and how I'm getting along.  The changes in the report, from one day to the next, will tell my story by themselves.  We'll see how well I stick to my resolution.

Day 1

Last night at 2:30 a.m. two children and their mother departed for the airport.  Neither Michal nor I were able to fall asleep - she was anxious over the visit, and particularly about spending Shabbat in a setting that has become foreign to her over the past two decades (she's planning to do Shabbat by old friends who live in a community much different from our own).  I kept having lucid dreams in which I was trapped in situations related to household chores that I only vaguely knew how to deal with (at age 16 I started doing my laundry in my parents' home, but in my own home I don't even know how to turn the machine on).  At 2 o'clock we got up, ordered a taxi, and started moving suitcases and children down to the curb.  At 2:40 I returned to our all-too-quiet and empty apartment (with only 4 people sleeping inside - since the two older boys prefer to sleep on the roof during the muggy summer nights), and still had a lot of trouble falling asleep.

I set an alarm for 6:40, but only was able to peel myself out of bed when Avigail asked me at 7:25, "Abba, you're not getting up today?", in much the same tone as her mother often does.  I dragged myself to a local shul, and returned at 8:15.  Elisheva and Noam, the preschoolers, were sitting on the window sill awaiting my return.  "Abba, what took you so long?", they asked.  I didn't even answer them.  I was exhausted.  I slothily nudged them along to get dressed and prepared them their morning sandwiches.  At 8:30 sharp we left the house to walk to gan (preschool/kindergarten).  At 8:30 they close the gates, and only allow stragglers entrance at 9 o'clock.  Good thing it's only a 2-minute walk from our house.  Good thing they're Israeli, and not Swiss.  They slipped into the gate seconds before the guard came and bolted it shut.  I wandered back home, daunted at the thought of my 40-minute bike commute in my current state of exhaustion.  The heat didn't help any.  I saw a city bus drive and was momentarily tempted to bus it today, but I knew that wasn't a real option, since I need to back on time to put the little ones to bed.

At home I lay down for a few minutes, contemplating falling asleep, then got up and started to pack my bag for work.  I took a long break to empty my bowels, then finally left the house around 9:15.  I got to work a little later than I planned, took my post-ride shower, and sat down at my desk.  It was 10:15.  I wasn't as tired as I thought I should be.  The workday passed pretty much the same as it always does - bugfixes and test runs, refactoring some code and rethinking a class architecture.  Around noon I got a text from Michal - they were in Madrid, about to board the second flight.  I saw it only twenty minutes later, and when I replied I saw the message wasn't being delivered.  I was too late.  

Walking back to the office after mincha (the afternoon prayer - there's a minyan at 1:15 in a nearby building), I remarked to another guy that my wife had just left me.  He looked at me aghast for the few seconds I left him hanging until I added, "for two weeks."  He didn't much appreciate the joke.

Noam's year-end party in kindergarten (he's second from the right in the back row).  My mother stood in for Michal as the mother-in-attendance

At 6:15 p.m. I arrived home, hot and sweaty from the ride home.  I was greeted by two preschool aged children, playing and giggling, and two worn-out grandparents (they claimed it was the heat and humidity that did them in, not the children).  After spoon-feeding Elisheva two bowls of rice (not an everyday occurrence), I took a shower and then promptly deposited the both of them into the bathtub.  They were very pleased, and I let them soak and play for longer than I would, had there been more small children to attend to.  I realized that the thinning out of the ranks allowed me to more calm, and take things at a slower pace without getting backlogged (Michal's spectre called out: "Those children need to be in bed already!", but I could ignore her so long as her pleas were not echoed by any children's woeful exhausted complaints).

Binyamin had gone back to his yeshiva in the morning, Chanania and Avigail are pretty much independent.  At 8 p.m. I opened my laptop and started to write the blog post.  Thus ends day 1.

Coming to America: The First Shabbat

Conflict of Interests

At home in Ramat Gan, we have a very clear, set schedule for Friday night.  During the summer, we start Shabbat early (what's call Plag HaMincha) so that the younger children can participate in the meal and still go to bed at a reasonable hour.  Being away from home, we had to strategize with conflicting interests.  On the one hand, we wanted to have a pleasant and calm Shabbat dinner with the whole extended family.  On the other hand, we wanted to attend synagogue, which only started at 7:30 pm.  Normally, the meal is eaten only after services.  And on the third hand, the earliest Shabbat can be started is one and a quarter hours before sundown, which came out to be 6:30 pm.  In order for the meal to count as one of the three Shabbat feasts, it needs to be held on Shabbat.

In the end our plan was to do the afternoon prayers at home, earlier, so that we could aim to get to synagogue for just Kabbalat Shabbat, which I estimated to start close to 8 o'clock.  That way, we could start Shabbat at the earliest possible time and have a leisurely meal before leaving the house at 7:40.  What actually happened was that we didn't finish preparing the meal until after 7 o'clock, then we ate a somewhat abbreviated meal and left the house to run to synagogue (just Binyamin and I) at 8:04.  We arrived just in time for Adon Olam, the hymn said at the conclusion of the Friday night prayers.  Oh well.  Better luck next time.

Feast of Goodness

For Shabbat lunch, which, due to our insistence that children have relatively standard bedtimes even on weekends, is the only opportunity for us to go out for a Shabbat meal, we had been hooked up with a family that has a kind of open house every Shabbat.  The mother of a former college roommate of Michal's, who lives in the area, had suggested we take advantage of their hospitality, since they're always happy to have more people join them.  She suggested we meet around noon at the synagogue, since guests usually head to their house in a group, using the synagogue as a departure point.  Shabbat morning was overcast, and by 11 am it was raining fairly hard.  At 11:40, when it was time for us to leave, it was basically pouring.  We borrowed raincoats from Sonya and Adam (umbrellas are prohibited on Shabbat), put a nylon cover on the stroller, and started to make our way in the rain.

We made it to the synagogue in good spirits but quite wet, only to hear from our host that the group wasn't leaving until 12:45.  So we nibbled on cookies and vegetables at the kiddush that was still going on, and chatted a little with some of the members of the community who recognized us as out-of-towners.  By the time 12:45 rolled around, the rain had completely stopped.  We threw all the wet rain gear over the top of the stroller and joined the lunch party for a 20 minute stroll.  Eventually we reached a stone house with a piece of paper taped to the front door.  It read, in Hebrew, "Cohen family - Welcome!"

Inside we were warmly greeted by our hosts, an elderly couple who were impeccably dressed and overly welcoming.  As everyone filed in and got comfortable, the kids were invited to play with magnet sets and scoot around the floor on little kiddie vehicles they referred to as "flying turtles".  Within a few minutes we were called to table for kiddush.  The table was very long, and set with very stylish, almost lavish, dishes and decor.  Everyone, even the youngest children, had a tall crystal glass to drink from.  Bottles of flavored soda were distributed equally down the table.  A towering centerpiece with large flowers was set in the center of the table, but somehow was slender enough not to block our view of anyone else.  Booster seats and high chairs were available for all our children.  Even though five other guests had come with us (for a total of 16 people at the table), in the end there were two extra place settings.  I was mesmerized.  What was this place?

The host pronounced the blessings with a thick Brooklyn accent, grape juice was drunk, hands washed, and bread broken.  The meal was underway.  The hosts were exceedingly courteous and gracious.  While a constant barrage of chicken and deli meats flowed from the kitchen, along with kugel, cholent, salad, and other dishes, the hosts inquired after each of the guests.  Henry, the host (I don't recall his wife's name), would casually toss out a dvar torah from time to time, and he also invited one of the guests (our guide, as it turned out) to deliver some of her own insights on the Torah reading.  She chose to speak about the mitzva of caring for the stranger, the sojourner, and the greater social meaning of the commandment.  When she finished, I commented that we have before us, in this house, a fantastic application of that very commandment, since our hosts extend an open invitation to any who need it.  About midway through my second sentence, Henry and his wife abruptly left the dining room for the safety of the kitchen.  I was left with my mouth slightly agape, the unfinished thought still on my lips, whilst the other guests looked on, seeming slightly amused at what had happened.  A few moments later, our hosts reemerged.  Before taking his seat, Henry asked me if I'd finished with what I had to say.  I almost began to repeat myself from the beginning, but then immediately understand what had transpired, and just said yes, I'm done.  Then Henry proceeded to explain that they don't appreciate hearing praise about what they do, because they don't feel like it's anything extraordinary.  "We're all sojourners," he told me, "me just the same as you.  That's just a part of being Jewish."  I tried to protest and insist that Jews are no longer strangers, no longer the homeless people.  We can go home now, to Israel.  My words fell on deaf ears.  I can't say I was surprised.

By the time we'd finished eating - for dessert they brought out two flavors of pareve ice cream and four kinds of cookies, and the kids had played sufficient on the (still wet) backyard playground, many hours had passed.  Throughout the whole encounter, I had been completely astounded by the couple's patience, generosity, humility, and piety.  When we decided it was time to go, Amiel and Chanania came to the back door from the play equipment with thoroughly muddy feet.  I caught them just as they were about to step in, and ordered them to go around and come in the front entrance, so that they could wipe their feet on the mat.  Henry overheard and waved his hand dismissively, saying, "It's fine, I don't mind.  Let them come in."  I was totally blown away, but I still insisted they go around to the front.  Leaving their house, I was reminded of many a chasidic tale, in which one of the characters is a pious, generous, rich man.  Perhaps there are still some of those left in the world.

Birds of a Feather

We returned to the house and passed the remainder of Shabbat napping (the adults) and playing board games with the cousins (the kids).  Binyamin and I returned to synagogue after 7 pm for the prayers at the conclusion of Shabbat. 

In many Orthodox synagogues, a small meal is served at the end of Shabbat for those who come for the afternoon prayers and stay for the evening service as well.  This synagogue was no different from most.  We entered the social hall and I looked for a table to join.  At most tables people had already filled there plates from the buffet and were engaged in conversation with the people seated next to them.  I looked for a table that wasn't crowded and seemed to have friendly folk.  I chose one near the entrance, where two fathers and two sons were situated.  Within moments, it became apparent that I had "accidentally" chosen to sit at the only table occupied by other Israelis.  I guess I subconsciously identified them and was drawn to my kind.  The both of them were in the area temporarily, one had been sent by his work and the other in order for his wife to get a higher degree.  I didn't have much to talk to them about, but it was nice to hear and speak Hebrew to adults.

Coming to America - Days 3-4: Vacation Routine

During the next couple days we started to settle in to a kind of routine, which mostly revolved around feeding and entertaining the children (duh - what did you really expect?).  In parallel to sharing those responsibilities, each one of the adults felt into their familiar roles.  I found time to work, the non-working and grandmother managed the kitchen, and the handyman grandfather found things to fix around the house.

Kitchen consultation

Dedushka (Leo) fixing the screen door

American Jewry*

Part of my regular routine is going to synagogue multiple times a day.  I began making trips to the local synagogue in the morning and at the end of the day, which is about a 15 minute walk from the house.  The synagogue is a run-of-the-mill mainstream Orthodox establishment, not particularly Zionist but not anti-Zionist in any regard.  From my first visit I felt extremely sad, nearly moved to tears, by the superficial way in which they related to their faith.  In our home community, Judaism is not related to as merely a religious practice, a communal framework, or a code of belief.  It is seen as a driving force behind personal, political, and even world change.

There is a well-known statement in the Talmud regarding the state of the Jewish people after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem: "Since the destruction of the Temple, all the Holy One has left in the world is 4 handbreadths of halacha."  The 4 handbreadths refer to, essential, a person's personal space as conceptualized by the Jewish code of law, and is equivalent to 1.9 meters.  This maxim is usually understood to mean that after the destruction of the Temple, the only part of Judaism that is still relevant, is still feasible for practical purposes, is the code of personal conduct.  Nowadays, there's a saying, "He's a man of the Shulchan Aruch," meaning that a person's focus is on properly observing all the personal halachot, as delineated in the Shulchan Aruch, a definitive 16th century work that became the basis for all further halachic discussions since.  Most people read the statement regarding the place of halacha as an imperative: since this is all we have left, this is a very important thing, and should be the sole focus of your religious devotion.  I recently came up with a very different reading, which makes much more sense to me - it's an outcry: this is all that people do anymore, and it's a travesty!  It's a travesty that the vast and powerful effect the Jewish faith once had on the entirety of personal, communal, municipal, and national circles of influence has been reduced to a mere set of prosaic directives for how to tie your shoes and which side to sleep on.

*This section contains my reflections of American mainstream rabbinical Orthodox Judaism, and its failure to fulfill its purported yearning for spirituality and the redemption of the world.  Since my criticisms are essentially just a decrying of the hypocrisy of this group, non-orthodox Jews who do not necessarily subscribe to a belief system that frames the Land of Israel as the only true home of the Jewish people and the only land in which the complete Jewish life can be attained should not see these particular comments as pertinent to them.  Not that they're without blemish, but at least they aren't a bunch of hypocrites...

Strengthening Bonds

The following days saw a general closeness between cousins develop and blossom.  They slowly turned into a single teeming mass of youthful impulses and energies, sharing equally breakfast, bedrooms, board games, Babushka, and bedtime stories.  The two notable exceptions were a) in upsetting situations the child would still seek consolation from a birth parent, and b) Arik was not in on the whole experience, since he was not home most of the day.  In addition, our children's abilities in spoken English (the main language spoken by their cousins) gradually improved, which greatly facilitated the whole process.

Avigail and Maya starting to hit it off

Dinnertime shenanigans

So Many Ducklings

Dear reader: if you're not familiar with the classic children's book Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey, please go find a copy and read it before continuing on.

On the fourth day of our trip, I decided the take all the children in the house (6 of ours + Maya and Layla - Arik was at opera camp, and Binyamin hadn't arrived yet) to reenact the story of Mr. and Mrs. Mallard and their ducklings who come to Boston and make their home in the Boston Public Garden.  All the children were familiar with the story and very excited to go and see it first hand.  So first we take the tram down Beacon Street, retracing their waddling footsteps, then entered the Public Garden, observed the ducks and geese present their, took pictures with the swan boats, and then went to visit the bronze monument to the ducklings.  We were very surprised to learn that everything depicted in the book, written over 77 years ago, is just the same as it was then, except for one small detail - you no longer may ride bicycles in the park.

Dreamy Elisheva on the tram

Rereading the story, in the very place it happened

We really went out on a limb for this picture

The swan boats

The ducklings 

Layla, Amiel and Chanania hitch a ride on Mrs. Mallard's back

After we finished our duckling tour, we went to a nice little park along the river.

When it was time to head home, we walked back to the tram, but we discovered that boarding a train was futile.  We were downtown, and trying to travel in the direction of Fenway Stadium, on the day of a Red Sox game, in the middle of rush hour.  We didn't have a chance.  So we rode a different train line that run along with hours for as far as we could - one stop.  Then we started walking.  We walked for about an hour, during which time I was constantly scanning behind me for Noam, who was lagging, and peering ahead to make sure I didn't lose sight of Maya and Avigail, who were leading the pack.  When we all gathered at intersections, waiting for the light to change, people gaped.  On at least four different occasions over the course of the day, stupefied passersby asked me in awe and wonderment if all those children belong to me.  I usually downplayed it, saying no, some of them are my nieces, but later I realized that I should have just said "I have another five back at home."  I felt like I was reliving another page of that book, where Mrs. Mallard walks with her ducklings from the river to the park, and people on the street stop in wonderment.  Here I was, marching down the street with eight ducklings!  Eventually we passed Fenway Stadium and made it to a tram station where the cars were no longer crowded.