One of those sage bits-of-wisdom from our mothers was to "shop in your own closet". What this translated to was "you probably have so much stuff you've forgotten about that if you look it will seem brand new to you".
Since I've had more time of late to rummage through drawers, I've discovered a pile of long forgotten trinkets and tschatske. Cool stuff like earrings that I used to love and would now be perfect with my latest acquisitions. A bracelet that I just had to have twenty years ago - so much so that I spent $45.00 on myself, an unheard of phenomena at the time. Genuine "vintage" clothes that of course were not so vintage when I bought them new (or gently worn). Enough lipstick to last me for years.
In a way shopping in my own closet is a trip down memory lane. But best of all, the person who stocked my closet had most excellent taste!
;-D
The Rabbi recited this poem at services last night. Too Good not to share!
Happy Mother's Day in Heaven, my Yiddisha Mama. I love you and miss you.
Ode to a Jewish Mama
By Phyllis Gardner
Forced to confess, under harsh interrogation
Whilst receiving in
Ohio my college education
That I dated, and not on infrequent
occasion
Assorted young men of the Christian persuasion
Emergency measures were quickly proclaimed
Plans based on the time
honored theory, ingrained
That a nice Jewish girl and a nice Jewish
boy
Sail smoother through marriage than a Jew and a goy
So Mama, whilst preaching Judaic tradition
Sent her sole conceived
daughter on a one sighted mission
She, perusing my options for optimal
contact
I, finally consenting, if she’d but get off my back
That I’d check
out her plum, the pick of the berries
La crème de la crème - the Medical
Library!
“One visit,” I promised, “All or nothing,” I said
As visions of
matrimony danced in her head
“And make sure that he’s Jewish,” warned Mama
sans tact
“Knowing you, you’ll latch on to a goyishe quack!”
So – equipped with my textbooks and bodily diversions
I set out to
trap me a promising surgeon
I enter the sanctum and sit by the
aisle
Surreptitiously sorting Jew from gentile
Perusing the pickings and
the lay of the land
Awaiting profferance of a gold wedding band
But the
boys study on, unaware of my plight
And I sit all alone as day turns into
night
Til I finally decide, Jewish doctor or not
I’ll date whom I please,
and the heck with mom’s plot!
So I march towards the exit, not giving a hoot
When I note with
surprise a young man in pursuit!
My instincts in action, I slow down my
pace
We collide at the door; we turn face to face
”Excuse me,” says
he, “No, my fault,” murmur I
“But, oy vey, you hit hard!” (that’s the
old college try)
“Oy vey?” he exclaims (all the Yiddish I
know)
“You mean there’s a Jewish girl here in Ohio?”
Well, that’s how it
started
Mom thinks it’s grand ‘bout the new diamond ring that I sport on my
hand
So Mama is happy and no one can mock her
Cause I landed one heck of a
“gantser k-nocker”
Translation: a “big shot”, I’m no concoctor – as
in
What could be better than a nice Jewish doctor?
Phyllis Okin Gardner
All true, except I never married him
Written
my senior year at Ohio State, 1971
In honor of my mom, Regina Graf Okin,
who was never pushy, really
Sunday is Mother's Day so mushy stuff abounds. Old friend Elaine posted this on Facebook yesterday. Anything? Really?
I just finished Defending Jacob and am haunted by its unexpected ending. If anyone reading this post plans to read the book - WARNING - spoiler alert!
**************************************
The mom in the story realizes that her 14 year old son has committed two heinous murders of fellow teenagers that he will never be prosecuted or punished for, other than being suspected, loathed and feared for the rest of his life. Serial murderer is sure to be his future occupation. Her husband - who narrates the story - appears to be in denial, unable to confront the obvious. She chooses to murder her son by driving both of them off an embankment and into a cement wall.
Her last words to him - I love you.
I watched The Iron Lady - a "biopic" of Margaret Thatcher - last night. The most fascinating part of the movie (warning: it moves slowly and cousin Larry slept through most of it) was not the tumultuous times she governed or her steadfast determination to do the "right thing" or her unprecedented rise to a position of power in a decidedly male-dominated government. No, the most fascinating part of the movie was her relationship with her husband, an ongoing relationship that did not end with his death.
Oh yes, she was indeed sliding into dementia and oh yes, she did indeed know that he was in fact, dead. But she continued to see him everywhere - at the breakfast table, lying next to her in bed, watching the latest events on the news. She heard his advice and his musings on their past together. He was still as real to her as he ever was. (How can you determine that you are hallucinating if your hallucinations are real to you?)
When she finally accepted the truth and let him go she wished she had her illusions back. I am sure dementia would be easier to take if your demented state was a happy place where your loved ones lived right alongside of you!
Small footnote: I agree with the critics who feel that this movie could have waited until the dear lady, 87 and still kicking, had passed away.
A friend sent a link to an Aish site that lets you find your birthday in the Hebrew calendar and also tells you the meaning of your Hebrew name. I am proud to carry the first name of my paternal grandmother, Eve Pachter Silverstein. I'm not sure who the Rachel was for but I will dedicate it to the memory of my first cousin Rivka who perished in the Holocaust. And I am glad to have made the "risky" journey to Palestinian Bethlehem to pray at Rachel's Tomb.
Had I had a Bat Mitzvah I would have read the Torah portion expressing gratitude to God. As this is something I do every day I do not feel that I missed anything by not reciting it at 12 or 13.
:-)
Yesterday was the proverbial "bad day". I felt like one of those punching bags that keeps popping back up after taking repeated hits.
It started out with disaster (2 pounds higher!) on the scale (a result of gluttony at some of my favorite eateries with the kids and the cousins) and moved on from there. I will spare you most of the sorry details Dear Diary except that I learned a dear soul, Al Simon, died Thursday night at 65. He was slightly less than a friend but more than an acquaintance and I liked and respected him so much and looked forward to his witty insights at our periodic lunches. That news was the final blow that flattened me.
So how did I react? I scrubbed off my makeup and took to bed and declared myself officially "finished" for the day. That was at about 4 pm. At around 6 pm I had had enough of feeling sorry for myself and flipped the energy switch to "on". I got dressed, fixed my hair and makeup, tidied up the house, grabbed hubby and went to Friday night services. A great decision! My beautiful 'happy place", seeing people I care about and welcoming Shabbat with candles, prayer and song turned my whole day around.
Today the scale is down to my "normal", one problem from yesterday has been resolved, and I am looking forward to a fun day with the cousins at the Festival and seeing the Doo-Wop All-Stars tonight at the Seminole Coconut Creek Casino.
Take THAT punching bag!! ;-)
Ann Romney sported this $990.00 designer shirt (The Reed Audubon Silk Shirt) on national television this week. Let me just say this is not my particular taste but it did make me feel slightly less guilty about spending $74.00 on a (much cuter)tank top at the home shopping party last week.
I have not been a fan of animals on clothes ever since those little Izod alligators were all-the-rage. I guess cute little teddy bears, turtles, bunnies and puppies are OK for (very little) kids.
I once had a t-shirt with a large cat face staring out from my chest. The reaction of strangers was a little unsettling ;-)
If Ann Romney makes it to the White House, I hope she will not be wearing an American Eagle on her formal attire at State dinners ;-)
Woo hoo, the library is holding Defending Jacob (number 18 this week on the New York Times bestseller list) for me. The premise is intriguing - a District Attorney must defend his 14 year old son for murder. The father learns how really little he knows his teenage offspring, big surprise there.
It's scary to ponder what we might not know about people close to us. I'm sure everyone has a secret or two (or a dozen) they would prefer the world not know. This is obviously especially true of politicians!
Last night, hubby told me that once during hurricane season his estranged brother called "to see if we were alive". He knew I'd be upset so he didn't tell me. I congratulated him on his good judgement. I am not one who needs to know absolutely everything, hahaha. I really think, deep down, that is true of everyone in every kind of relationship.
;-)
Kenny and Selma, married for 72 years and living a few miles away in Tamarac, offer their advice (5 easy rules) on having a long and happy marriage to their grandson Michael.
Oviously great advice: be good to each other, save a few bucks, keep the house neat and clean and have food in the "frigidaire". And although they touted the joys of "not arguing" it is obvious that bickering abounds at Kenny and Selma's place, hahaha.
OK, I'll throw in my own unsolicited advice (5 easy rules) based on 42 years of "experience".
1. Choose wisely
2. Laugh
3. Forget the bad stuff
4. Remember the good stuff
5. Kiss
Kenny and Selma's advice ends with a toast - Diet Coke it looks like ;-)
I received a link to a you tube video from good-guy Ron Sanders yesterday featuring the "Hebrew Mamita", Vanessa Hidary. I have seen her comedy shtick before and truth-be-told it makes me wince a little. In her own words she is a Crazy, Loud, Eccentric, Fiery, Passionate, Romantic, Stubborn, Angelic, Smart, Talented, Outlandish, Pulling your Fuckin' hair out, Wild Child Artist and in my words she is a bit over-the-top, proud Jewish woman with tons of chutzpah. She is also a little scary.
Her signature routine is about when an unsuspecting guy in a bar pays her an ill-advised back handed compliment about "not looking Jewish". She takes this to mean "you might not be as undesirable as are other Jewish women". Luckily for the poor shmuck, she controls her anger long enough for him to escape.
Hahaha you might think. But I truly do ask myself this question - why do so many nice Jewish boys prefer to marry gentile girls? I am not the only one who has noticed this phenomena, there are quite a few books and novels touching this theme.
Is it the forbidden fruit (like eating trefe)? Are gentile girls more attractive with their softer features and lighter hair? Are their expectations of their spouse and children lower? Are Jewish girls simply more high maintenance? Or worst of all, do we remind guys of their mothers?!?
;-)
One of those sage bits-of-wisdom from our mothers was to "shop in your own closet". What this translated to was "you probably have so much stuff you've forgotten about that if you look it will seem brand new to you". 
