The JackB

"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun'." Groucho Marx

Archives for December 2011

An Uncertain Certainty

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You were there. You stood next to me, our fingers intertwined staring at the masses. It was Friday night and the plaza was packed. My eyes were closed and I was slowly rocking back and forth, unconsciously giving thanks for having been given the song of my heart.

We were 15, we were twenty, we were 50 and then we were 80. I saw it all. I saw us alone.I saw us together. I saw our children and I saw our grandchildren. We stood together and shared those moments in time. Single, married, children, Bar Mitzvahs, weddings, grandchildren and then we were gone.

It was just myself and the wall. Just myself at the Kotel, head resting against the stone, alone in the night and lost in the thoughts that we think.

****

I have been dreaming of the children of Jerusalem and broken promises. I have been lost in moments that once were or could have been, wondering what it means, if it means anything at all.

Because you were there. You, the song of heart who no longer sings her song to me were there. You who once promised to walk with me wherever it was we chose to walk are there no longer.

You have gone away and left me alone…and apart.

You who helped me to remember that love burns and that two are more than one….is gone.

*****

But though you have left me you are not really gone. You have never quite left. I still see you. I still feel you….and I know.

I know that the ache is not mine alone. I know that the absence of your presence is a pain that we share for you know the loss of mine as well. Your stubborn nature won’t permit you to admit it or to ask for shelter in my arms. You won’t let yourself admit that you feel what you feel.

But I know things. I know things about you. I know things about me. I know things about us.

*****

It is an uncertain certainty…this feeling of mine. I don’t have to see you, the song of my heart, to hear you singing our song again. I don’t know if you are conscious of it or aware that it is happening…but it is.

I know these things because I feel them in the places that have been both full and empty. I know these things because I feel my heart harmonizing with yours and I tremble. Fear and anger rise up more frequently than faith.

It is a battle between heart and head. This uncertain certainty that you wish to renew and rebuild.

So now I wait and wonder if this feeling is fake and if my heart has been found false. It is uncomfortable, awkward and uncertain. A contradiction it is, this uncertain certainty.

*****

We were 15, we were twenty, we were 50 and then we were 80. I saw it all. I saw us alone.I saw us together.

Christmas Eve Reading Material

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Every year I receive questions via comments and or email about what Jewish people do on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Since it is not our holiday and holds no religious significance for us many of us view it as a secular holiday that we can use to do fun things.

Many years ago some friends and I decided that we wanted to go to Disneyland on Christmas because we were sure that there wouldn’t be a single line for anything. Boy were we wrong- that place was packed.  It was jammed full of people and busier than ever.

Back in my single days it wasn’t uncommon for their to be big parties that were cleverly called, “The Matzah Ball.” One year I went and got three telephone numbers from women I thought were quite attractive, wasn’t I surprised to find out that none of them were Jewish.

Anyhoo, this year we are going to be heading out to a Chanukah party but I know that some of you will still find your way here looking for things to read.  Far be it from me to prevent your intellectual stimulation from taking place. In fact I’d like to help stimulate it by providing you with several links to some old posts you might have missed.

And if that isn’t enough you can always  read the story that is over here.

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I Hate Toys That Make Noise

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My name is Jack. I am the Jewish daddy blogger who is working hard to write a book and somehow is posting regularly on three blogs. Yes, that is right- three blogs. I update more than often than Lady Gaga changes clothes, what of it and what the hell has any of this got to do with Chanukah.

Well you can blame my somewhat edgy attitude on having been forced to join the hordes today in holiday shopping.  Holiday shopping makes me misanthropic. That’s right, I said misanthropic which is a far cry from being lycanthropic.

I have to be honest and say that my initial plan was to write something far more significant and meaningful than this but Friday afternoon and amidst the holiday shoppers made me want to make like a prophet and not the kind that would stand up and praise the people. No sir, I wanted to climb up on the roof of the lady driving the Red RAV-4 with the Texas plates and tell her that this isn’t cleveland, we have order, decorum and rules here.

I wanted to climb up on the roof of Costco and tell the people that if they don’t stop their stampede for free food fire and brimstone would rain down from the sky like manna from heaven. I wanted to scream at the people in the Trader Joes parking lot to slow down because there simply aren’t enough parking spaces and running me over won’t get you inside any faster.

Instead you will face the wrath of the angry Jewish daddy blogger who will post your picture online and mock you for trying to look cool with a big black thing in your teeth. Yes, I am talking about you lady with the Indiana University sweatshirt. Maybe black things in your teeth are cool in Bloomington but they aren’t here.

Have I mentioned yet that it is Chanukah or that my friend Benji wrote the Idiots guide to Chanukah. Go read it and leave a comment telling him I sent you over there. But don’t forget to come back here.

Here where I will tell you that I hate toys that make noise, but not as much as the people that give said toys to my children. You who provide them with things that beep, whistle and wail are on my list. One day very soon you will wake up in the middle of the night wondering why there is a marching band playing outside your window and then you will remember it is because I sent them there.

I sent them because you gave my child a toy that beeps, wails and whistles. I sent them because you are responsible for the headache that I am currently experiencing and misery loves company.

Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll remember the magic and joy of watching the faces of my children light our menorah. Maybe I’ll remember listening to my daughter tell me that she has toys to give away to kids who don’t have some. Or maybe I’ll remember listening to my son tell me the story about why we celebrate and the questions he asked afterwards.

Because those questions showed me that he isn’t just looking for gifts. He is thinking about his life, his family and the world around him. You see 2011 was filled with all sorts of chaos in our life. We sold our home and moved into temporary housing and he knows that we will be moving again real soon.

He knows that life is filled with challenges and changes and wonders whether turning 11 next week will mark the beginning of magical and mysterious year or something less than that.

Chanukah reminds him that some things don’t change. Family celebrations can take place in different places and these moments in time that he recalls can be special in places that are less familiar. Chanukah reminds him even though life feels a bit upside down and inside out it is not as crazy as he thought.

The dark haired beauty is certain of this too. She wasn’t so sure at first but now she is beginning to sing a different song. And me, well I rant about the hordes because it irritates me to be hit by shopping carts pushed at breakneck speed by people who don’t care what is going on around them. And because I am just grumpy.

But amidst the chaos and craziness I am grateful too. We are healthy, happy and hopeful. Good things are happening now and more are just around the corner. Chanukah sameach to my friends, family and fellow MOTs. I wish you all lots of love and laughter and hope you enjoy your own miracle of lights.

Levels of Intolerance

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Sometimes the holiday season makes me crazy. I can point you to posts that I have written about the hypocrisy of being asked to give once a year or the issues with the Salvation Army guy. I can show you the silly and the sublime in all of this. Recollections of fantasy and fact.

But I always find myself getting stuck in the same places. I think of them or it as levels of intolerance.

These are the posts where I tell you that there is no such thing as a Chanukah bush and that Jews who have them should call them what they are…Christmas trees. In years past I was far more vocal about it. I made it clear that I think it is wrong to do so.

Read through the archives and you’ll find the posts where I engaged in some pretty vociferous arguments with people about what should or shouldn’t happen. Every time I did I thought about what I was doing and asked myself several questions:

1) Was it right or fair for me to judge others?

2) Would I change my mind or convince others to change their opinions?

3) Were my words a help or a hindrance?

I am not just a guy, I am a father. I take that role seriously. I may screw around with comments about being the greatest daddy blogger ever but I don’t lose sight of what I am trying to do. I am trying to raise menschen. I am trying to raise good children of character, worth and value. Good children who make a difference in the world and are productive members of society.

So I look again at my levels of intolerance and apply it to my children. The answer to whether it is ok to be judgmental is simple. It is yes. I have to be. I have to make decisions about all of the facets of their lives. I make decisions about education, religion, nutrition and morals. I look at their friends and try to steer them away from those who will get them into trouble.

They aren’t automatons. My children make decisions on their own, but they require guidance. My levels of intolerance can be viewed in lots of different ways. Some people will nod their heads and agree with me. Others will look at me and walk away because I have pricked the bubble of their levels of intolerance.

I teach my children to judge people based upon their actions. I teach them that race, religion, color and creed are not suitable for making decisions about people. But the levels of intolerance make some of those discussions more challenging.

They have cousins whose parents are raising them to be Christian children who occasionally experience brief moments of Jewish life. They light a menorah each year and show up at a Passover seder. They enjoy the family aspect and the culture, but the religious component is lost upon them. My children have known for years that Santa isn’t real and have been taught not to ruin it for other kids.

But kids push and prod. Some try to taunt and the words fly out, “Santa isn’t real- your parents are faking him.” This is not what I want, but I am not responsible for helping to facilitate this lie. I have done all that I could to prevent the discussion.

I am caught in the middle. Orthodox relatives and friends tell me that since I have fallen off of the derech I am not allowed to talk this way. I don’t keep Kosher and I am not Shomer Shabbos, so why do I dare to say these things. I look at them and we engage in hard core debate about this and that. But we come to an agreement…sort of.

We are committed to ensuring that the kids stay Jewish and they accept that though my way is not theirs it is likely to happen. So I revisit my levels of intolerance and ask why I can’t extend the same level of courtesy to those who put the tree in the house.

And I come back to the same places. It is my line in the sand. The tree is beautiful. The festivities are lovely. It is much easier to assimilate. It is much easier to give in and I see this as a gateway.

I accept that I might be wrong, but the stories I heard as a child stay with me. Relatives fled Europe and pogroms for the safety of America. There are pictures of those who didn’t. Those are pictures of the dead not because of old age but because of the Nazis. I will not help Hitler reach out from the gates of hell and grab more of us.

But I will work harder to mask my levels of intolerance from my children and those who do other than I wish they would. I am allowed, entitled and permitted to be judgmental and so are they. They can do as they wish in their homes and it is not for me to say otherwise.

I am curious to see if over time my feelings change. I have mellowed on this. Maybe it is because I have fewer and fewer concerns that my children will want these things for our home. I am not really sure.

All I know is that each year I will continue to explore my levels of intolerance.

Suicide Isn’t Funny

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If 2011 were a person I would deem it to be a frenemy.  Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t allow such a ridiculous word tarnish this joint.  No sir, under normal circumstances I would pick it up by the scruff of its neck and with one mighty swing send it flying out the door.

But it is well after midnight and I haven’t time to search for a finer way to express myself.

2011 has been both friend and adversary. Since we have gained thousands of new readers I’ll recount some of the fun, but not all. You’ll have to do some reading on your own- don’t be lazy.

My grandfather died the first week of August. My sister was married the following week. The family went on a trip. We came back and we moved. Approximately one month later one of my brother-in-laws ended up on life support and came far too close too dying.

A friend of mine’s heart was broken when her infant son died. More hearts were broken when two very dear friends were forced to say goodbye to their fathers. The following month I and many others were shocked by the death of one our friends. She died a month short of her 41st birthday.

All of these things and more have made me very cranky. I don’t apologize for it- I am entitled to be irritated.

Fast forward to this Wednesday afternoon. I am trying to open a package that someone has undoubtedly coated in grease and elephant snot glue. I am having a devil of a time doing it and I mutter to myself,  “someone shoot me in the head, it would hurt less.”

I had thought that I was alone, but I was not. Little Jack, the smaller, smarter and better version of myself was there. A week short of 11 he tells me that suicide isn’t funny. He is right. It isn’t. I know four people who killed themselves and am well aware of how awful it can be.

But I didn’t say it with the intention of killing myself.

I want the record to be clear. If 2011 was a woman I would divorce/break up with her yesterday. The sex may be great but the pain and aggravation isn’t worth it.

If 2011 was a man I would do my best to walk away and or castrate him.

If 2011 was my job I would quit or just beat myself over the head with a bat. It would be faster.

But let me set the record straight. It has never been so bad that I wanted to throw in the towel. There have been plenty of good things and good times. I see daylight. I see opportunity and I see abundance.

And as a member of the very cranky man association I want to enjoy the success that is coming in large part so I can look back at 2011 and say Fuck you!

Attitude makes a significant difference. The kids hear that all the time. I try hard to make it clear that it is not just something that I say.

I also made a point to make sure that my son understood that what I said had no meaning. I am guessing that one day soon I’ll catch him using colorful language and he’ll tell me that what he said had no meaning. On that day I’ll be proud that he is smarter than I am and aggravated.

They are always watching and listening…these children of mine. But that is going to be a good thing because when push comes to shove they’ll see me push back and understand that when things get tough attitude makes a difference.

This won’t be the last I write or speak of 2011 but I have had enough for tonight. The last thing I have to say to 2011 is that I can’t wait to defenestrate your bony ass. Better buy a parachute because I am going to use the law of attraction to get what I want and that is higher up on my list.

The Hobbit & The Dark Knight Rises

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When my children ask me what made me want to become a writer I point to books, pictures, movies and music. I talk to them about the joy of storytelling and the passion I have for making words do more than work.

The power, persuasion and personality that are generated when my words sing my song is so very sweet.  These trailers touch upon it all from different angles but the smile they bring is the same.

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