Rail Trail Therapy

We took a walk on the Rail Trail this afternoon. We were not the only ones with that idea. It was crowded - well, for that particular section it felt crowded. Sometimes, when we’re walking and the only ones there, I ask Chuck if he phoned ahead to reserve it just for us. Today, not so much. As clouds moved in and out in front of the sun, we saw solo walkers, runners and bicyclists; couples, and young families with children and dogs, strollers and tricycles. We all exchanged greetings as we passed each other. A lot of “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” because it really was.

For that hour we all kept to our family groups. We all breathed deeply of the fresh late winter / nearly spring air. We let our legs carry us, almost on autopilot, as we tried to let the news headlines recede for a little while.

Respite is important. Moving, breathing, listening to our own breath, feeling the wind on our faces - all of it is restorative.

So is social connection. We currently have social isolation as the headline. But we can still connect. Phone calls, emails, texts, Facetime, Skype, letters, cards, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook… so many ways to reach out and stay in touch.

Rabbis and Cantors are streaming services in empty sanctuaries, but that livestream is illuminating a living room, a kitchen, a studio apartment, as well as the congregants there joining in prayers and singing the songs. We are finding new ways to connect.

Keep breathing. Keep focusing on the greater good. Pick up the book or the knitting or the model ship or the stack of crossword puzzles. Haul out the Scrabble and Monopoly boards. Be present. When the worry rises up, let it. Sit with it for a moment and then use a lifeline to phone a friend. In this challenging time, those calls are unlimited.

Grief Is Love

Today the Universe was kind to me. A friend from my childhood shared part of a quote by Jamie Anderson. It took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. I recognized the feelings and was deeply grateful for the way Ms. Anderson described grief as love. I went searching for the source and found her blog All My Loose Ends. Soon I found her original post, with the full quote: As the lights wink out...

Since my Mom died a year and a half ago, at age 93, I have struggled with all the emotions you would expect. As Chuck and I have been involved in an enormous renovation of our old farmhouse, over and over I think “Oh, I’ll have to tell Mom about this.” or “Mom will love this.” The thoughts are always in the present tense. Instantly, the penny drops and I feel a swift wave of loss/grief/mourning followed by a slight disorientation. My Dad died 30 years ago at 68. And Mom’s passing has once again sharpened the pain of Dad’ absence.

The mental and physical challenges of the renovation have been therapeutic. But the joy of the progress remains tempered by this undercurrent of mourning. That’s why Ms. Anderson’s quote resonated with me. I still have all that love - not uncomplicated love, but powerful love natheless. So it helps to interpret this grief as the proof of the love; perhaps the price of the love. As Rabbi Anne Brener wrote in “Mourning & Mitzvah”: “The truth is that relationships continue to grow and change, even after one of the parties to them is dead.”

As Chuck and I sit on our new stone patio, I picture Mom and Dad visiting or Chuck’s late parents visiting - impossible reunions to be sure. Navigating these new relationships with our deceased parents is both fraught and blessed by all the memories, sweet and sad. It is challenging, but, yes, comforting too.

Photograph of Frenchman Bay in Bar Harbor, Maine and Layout LMR/Pink Granite. Software: Apple iPhoto ‘08 & Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac. Font: Hypatia Sans Pro.

Uncle Carl

Uncle Carl had just turned 33 when he was killed in action in Italy during World War II. He had graduated from Harvard but not yet married when he was called up. He was the eldest of seven. When his younger brother, my late father-in-law, was following him into the army, he wrote him a letter filled with practical and brotherly advice - including how to deal with the anti-semitism he would encounter.
Thank you for everything, Uncle Carl.
You are loved and missed and yes, your memory is a blessing…

Be Not Afraid

Kol haolam kulo gesher tzar m’od
v’ha-ikar lo l’facheid klal

The entire world is but a narrow bridge;
the most important thing is not to be afraid

~ Reb Nachman of Breslov


Photograph and Layout LMR/Pink Granite. Software: Apple iPhoto ‘08 & Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac. Fonts: Helvetica and Papyrus.

Pope Francis & A Clerk From Kentucky

Kim Davis is the elected civil employee in Kentucky who disobeyed Federal law and refused to issue civil marriage licenses to same sex couples in her jurisdiction. Davis, the daughter of Roman Catholics who currently identifies herself as an Apostolic Christian, has said her religious beliefs preclude her from issuing marriage licenses to same sex couples. Professor Katherine Davis of Columbia University has stated: "Kim Davis has all sorts of religious liberty rights secured under the First Amendment and under other laws, but they are not at stake in this case. All she's asked to do with couples that come before her is certify that they've met the state requirements for marriage, so her religious opposition to same-sex marriage is absolutely irrelevant."

News reports say that Kim Davis, along with her fourth husband (who was also her second husband), had a private audience with Pope Francis. Kim Davis spoke with ABC News saying of the meeting: "Just knowing the pope is on track with what we're doing, and agreeing, you know, kind of validates everything." She had previously stated the Pope told her to “Stay strong”.

Vatican spokesman Father Frederico Lombardi said (in Italian) yesterday: "I cannot not deny the meeting took place but I have no comments to add.”

I normally link to all the sites where I found information and quotes. But a quick Google search will flood your screen with news reports and opinion pieces about this meeting. I will leave you to it.

I keep thinking of all the people Pope Francis could have chosen to have a private audience with:

The Richard Family whose son, Martin was killed in the Boston Marathon bombing; the same Roman Catholics - parents Denise and Richard; their surviving children Jane and Henry - who spoke out against the death penalty for the man who murdered their son.

Any of the survivors or family members of the victims of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church shooting in South Carolina. They were targeted in their church as they prayed.

These just a few of the people Pope Francis could have spent time with and said to them “Stay strong...”

Happy New Year!

Rosh HaShanah begins at sundown Sunday, September 13, 2015. This marks the beginning of the Jewish New Year - 5776 on the Hebrew calendar,
If you would like to learn more about Rosh HaShanah you can click here.

May we ALL have a sweet New Year!
Shanah Tovah!


Layout, photo of leaves and design by LMR/Pink Granite. Software: Apple iPhoto ‘08 & Adobe Photoshop CS5 for Mac. Font: CK Dear Miss Rose.

On The Day We Honor Those Who Labor

“To our sages who toiled -
To the one who chopped wood; to the one who raised cattle
To the storekeeper, the cobbler, and the one who sold salt
To the one who brewed beer and the one who filled casks of wine
To the tailor; to the teacher; to the dealer in cotton
To the one who scrubbed clothing; to the keeper of vines
To the merchant of silk; to the one who plowed fields
To the builder of houses; to the doctors and scribes
To the blacksmith; to the tanner; to the digger of graves

Let us give thanks for a tradition that sanctifies work.
Let us honor those who toil and sustain the world
in noble and humble ways.
We acknowledge those whose labor goes unnoticed.
We praise the strength of their hands,
and the dedication of their hearts.”

~ From the Mishkan HaNefesh, 2015
Published by CCAR Press

Happy Chanukah!

Tonight, just after sundown, Chanukah began!

Enjoy this lovely song from the Barenaked Ladies:



Here are two places to find lots of information about Chanukah. One is Chabad.org and the other is the Union for Reform Judaism. The URJ Chanukah page is new this year.

As for the spelling... Chuck and I settled on “Chanukah” many years ago. But Hanukkah is also quite common. I’ve seen Chanukkah and Hannukah too. Because all of these are transliterations from the Hebrew, you have some leeway on the spelling!

Shemira

Similar to the Irish tradition of remaining with the body of a loved one until burial, Shemira is the Jewish ritual of attending or guarding the body. The difference is that the Shomer or Shomeret usually sits and prays alone and may never have known the deceased in life. The Irish tradition is one of family and friends being with the recently departed. Although when Tanta died Chuck and I did go to the funeral home and spent a few moments with her and with the Shomer who was attending her at that time.

It was a comfort to us to know that from the moment we escorted Tanta’s body to the funeral van, throughout the process of taharah and until we helped bury her body next to her parents and her brother, that she would always be accompanied. It was especially comforting to the caregivers who had been with Tanta around the clock in her final months to know that she would never be alone. For them it meant that their work would be carried on.

Growing up, my Dad would often tell us that when his time came he wanted to be laid out in the living room. He thought the sofa where he would stretch out to watch the eleven o’clock news followed by “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” would be just the right spot. Dad was of Irish and Scottish descent but even his Scottish side had come from Ireland originally, so the roots ran deep. I wish we could have honored his wish. But by the time his parents passed away decades before him we were already bringing our dearly departed to funeral homes or funeral parlors - named with a nod to the time when families were at the heart of the process - and that’s where they “went out of”.

The first funeral I remember was of my Dad’s mother. I was just eight. There was some discussion in the extended family that I was too young to attend the open casketed wake. My parents disagreed and I attended. I’m so glad I did. I could see Grandma, kneel down and say a little prayer and begin to understand the rituals of death and burial.

Today is my Dad’s yahrzeit. As I write this, his memorial candle burns brightly. Twenty-four years ago today Dad died. He had been surrounded by his wife and three daughters all day. Late in the evening my mother sent us home from the hospital. While I was driving home in the cold and dark from Massachusetts to Connecticut, Dad breathed his last; his wife of nearly forty-two years by his side. I wondered about so many things that night. What I never questioned was that Dad’s death was a release and a relief for him. He had been so very ill for so very long. The Alzheimer’s Disease had cruelly robbed him and all of us of the warm, intelligent, funny man who worked hard, sang beautifully, told a great story, and loved his family above all else. At times in his life Dad struggled - as do we all - but his love for all of us never wavered.

Dad wasn’t laid out in our living room. He and Mom had sold that big old house a few years before and Mom was living alone in a condominium. Dad went out of the funeral home his father-in-law had gone out of. There was no Shomer in that tradition, but we did have an open casketed wake in the front parlor of the funeral home and his children and grandchildren were there to visit and attend. We said our goodbyes, had a proper funeral mass in the church Dad helped bring to fruition and buried him next to his parents and brothers.

Zichrono liveracha ~ His memory is a blessing.
And it always shall be...


You can read the story behind how a Catholic daughter came to light a Jewish yahrzeit candle for her father by clicking here. My poem, “Your Yahrzeit” can also be found there.

Joy and Sorrow

Thursday, February 9, 2012, we spent the afternoon with Chuck’s Tanta. Age 89 and in hospice care with liver cancer, she was clearly in her final days. I sat by her bedside and talked to her. I named every family member that had been in touch with us and passed their love onto her. Then I began reviewing the bidding. I recounted all the ways she had been a good woman: a daughter, a sister, a sister-in-law, a friend, an aunt, a great aunt, a member of her community. I let a cascade of names and good memories wash over her. In the living room, one of Tanta’s caregivers, “A” could hear me over the baby monitor we had set up. She asked Chuck if Tanta was talking to me. He said no, but that we believed she could hear or, at the very least, sense, what was being said to her. “A” nodded quietly in agreement.

The next morning, just after 6:00 a.m., the phone rang. Our niece Carrie was calling with the news that her sister Kate's water had broken. With that call we were off on the Kate, Phil and Baby Finn adventure! We arrived at Beth Israel Deaconess at Noon. We have been to Beth Israel with Tanta more times than we can count. This was the first time we had ever been to Beth Israel for a joyous occasion and we have to say we thoroughly enjoyed it!

When the news of Kate's impending C-section came to "Team Finn" sometime after midnight, we all had to make decisions. The predicted snowstorm and distance between hospital and homes were factors. While the rest of the family needed to leave, we stayed. We felt that we had all planted the Baby Finn Family Flag in the lobby and that our circumstances allowed us to remain and hold down the fort.

We rearranged our camp in the lobby and dozed on and off until Phil brought us the very good news of Finn's arrival: 9 pounds, 5 ounces (4.22 kilograms), 21 inches long! He also told us the equally good news that Kate was well! After that, Chuck took to the floor and got about two hours of sleep. I followed suit across two chairs. Soon Phil came and escorted us upstairs. After the delight of being able to see Kate, to know she really was well, to meet the fabulous Finn and to see the newly expanded family settled in their room, we took our leave.

As we headed home out of Boston we thought about stopping in Brookline to visit Tanta, but because it was so early and we needed to get some solid sleep in our own bed we decided to head home. Driving along the Mass Pike and then Route 9 we felt lucky that the predicted snow was just a dusting and that the roads weren't bad at all. Just before the Shrewsbury-Worcester line the cell phone rang. It was one of Chuck’s Tanta's caregivers calling to tell us she had died peacefully in her sleep.

We found ourselves at another decision point. Home would have to wait. We began making phone calls, grabbed a quick breakfast at Blanchard’s 101 Diner in Worcester and headed back from Worcester for Brookline. We were able to be with Tanta for a bit and said our final good byes by singing the Bedtime Shema. We also witnessed a very dignified transition performed by two gracious young women from the funeral home. Then we escorted her body downstairs to the vehicle.

The rest of the day was spent making phone calls, working out details with the funeral home about Tuesday's service and tending to things at her condo. We finally arrived home about 9:30 p.m. Saturday night, fed three justifiably disgruntled cats and at long last headed for bed.

We were in touch with everyone on Chuck's side of the family on Saturday, but we chose not to share the news with anyone on little Finn’s side until the next day. While none of them were close to Tanta, we did not want any mention of death to be part of such a joyful day.

We are saddened by Tanta’s passing. Yet we know we did everything to fulfill her wishes including her deep desire to die at home in her own bed, just as her own mother had in 1989, with her youngest daughter, our Tanta, by her side.

For Tanta:
Zichrona liveracha ~ Her memory is a blessing.

For Finn and for all of us:
L’chaim! ~ To life!

Happy Chanukah!

The calendar turned another page and suddenly it was Chanukah. So thanks to a tip from Wendy and her mum Fiona, I turned to SmileBox. I have wanted to get into the SmileBox website for ages, but was always turned away because we are Apple computer users. That’s literally, turned away. They had a “Sorry but you’re a Mac user” message! Now SmileBox plays well with Mac and all is forgiven! In very little time, with very, very little reading of directions (hello?) I had a SmileBox Chanukah slideshow card ready to go. One tiny quibble was that the flickering candles on the card numbered only eight for the eight nights, but there really should have been nine to include the Shamash candle. And the eight flickering lights were all at different heights which is also a no-no. I ran it by Chuck who gave me the sweetest look which said something like: I love you very much and only you, the good Irish Catholic girl, are going to zero in on that.

So, I sent it!

Latkes are later in the week! Yay latkes!
But I am so wanting some sufganiyot this year. They’re the small, jelly filled doughnuts.

Enjoy every minute of the eight days and nights of Chanukah!


: : As always, Chabad.org has an a great and exhaustive section of their website devoted to all things Chanukah - from history to how to light the menorah/chanukiah.

: : And the best book to guide you through the Festival of Lights is still “Haneirot and Halalu, These Lights Are Holy” edited by Elyse D. Frishman and illustrated by Leonard Baskin.

Visiting Family

The period of time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is known as the Days of Awe. During this time, it is customary to make visits to the cemeteries where your loved ones are buried. Today we picked up Chuck’s 87 year old aunt and drove to the collection of Jewish cemeteries in Woburn. We stopped at the first gate to pick up some pebbles from an open tray and went to our family member’s graves. On each headstone, we each placed one of the pebbles. They are left as a sign of respect and as a visible acknowledgement of the visit. Tante managed to leave her walker behind and, leaning on Chuck, walk to her parents and brother’s gravesite. But as the visiting continued, she stayed on the main paved path and we served as her ambassadors, leaving pebbles for her on the headstones of other relatives. As we walked, Tante would stop, read an inscription on a marker, remember and then tell us so and so was friends with Grandma or so and so worked with your father.

I do not like death or grief or loss. But I do love visiting a cemetery. I also love a good funeral home and a truly fine funeral. Apparently my pleasure today was evident because Chuck told me later that Tante said to him: “Lee’s certainly enjoying herself!” I think she likes that we are comfortable with the tradition of visiting; of reminiscing; of connecting the branches on the family tree. I think she also appreciated that as we walked around the cemeteries today, we began to take note of what Tante would like her headstone to look like. (Her plot is right next to her parents and brother.) Turns out, she likes a very finely grained, pale, pink granite!

Follow Up

On Friday, I posted about Michael Pakaluk’s Op-Ed piece in The Pilot. Today, Dianne Williamson, of the Worcester Telegram and Gazette, provides additional history and information on the man and his message.

Hatred, Hypocrisy & The Company You Keep

My niece Kate sent me a link to a piece in the “The Pilot”, Boston’s Roman Catholic newspaper. The op-ed by Michael Pakaluk was disturbing to Kate and to me. His topic? “Children in the custody of same-sex couples in parochial schools”. Why the odd turn of phrase “in the custody of”? Mr. Pakaluk states that “one cannot say, “children of” same sex couples”. Right off the bat it is clear where he stands. Using a twisted homophobic logic he makes his case that children of same sex couples should not be enrolled in parochial schools, especially at the elementary level. He believes it is too strong an endorsement of the gay “lifestyle” and will inevitably lead to “scandal”. Beyond his self righteous, anti-gay positions he is also a clear opponent of the reforms of Vatican II. Apparently bringing the Roman Catholic Church out of the Dark Ages - literally and figuratively - was beyond the pale for Mr. Pakaluk.

In her e-mail, Kate drew my attention to Mr. Pakaluk’s credentials, including a stint as a Visiting Scholar at Harvard University. But what got me curious was his current employment with the “Institute for the Psychological Sciences” Turns out The Institute is is part of the "Legion of Christ". Ring a bell? Yes, that’s the same Legion of Christ founded by "Father" Marcial Maciel. Yes, that’s the same one who molested children and seminarians and was involved in both homosexual and heterosexual relationships while he was a priest. This past May, the Vatican released a communique condemning Maciel. Pope Benedict XVI also ordered an investigation into the Legionaries and its lay affiliate Regnum Christi.

That is “scandal” in both the religious and secular sense of the word indeed Mr. Pakaluk.

What Was Apple Thinking?

Read Renee Ghert-Zand’s “A Troubling Forecast”.

A Tin Ear No More

President Barack Obama issued a proclamation naming May 2010 as Jewish American Heritage Month. In this lovely and important statement, the President describes the Jewish American story as “an essential chapter of the American narrative”. It concludes with this paragraph:

“Today, Jewish Americans carry on their culture's tradition of "tikkun olam" -- or "to repair the world" -- through good deeds and service.  As they honor and maintain their ancient heritage, they set a positive example for all Americans and continue to strengthen our Nation.”

Andrew Silow-Carroll, Editor-in-Chief of the New Jersey Jewish News and Josh Rolnick, a member of the Board of Directors of the National Jewish Democratic Council point out that, unlike previous proclamations, President Obama removed the standard Christian phrase “in the year of our Lord” from this proclamation.

Nice touch.
Thank you Mr. President.
(He’s such a mensch.)

Positive Ripples

We attended a beautiful funeral service yesterday. The woman who passed was 97. She was part of our greater extended family, but we had only been in her company a few times. As we listened to the Rabbi, her daughters, granddaughters and a friend of long standing eulogize and reminisce, we got to know Rose better. It may be trite to say that we laughed and we cried, but we did both. We were grateful to be able to listen to how Rose lived her life and appreciate that every day, through every action, Rose chose to be positive. It put us in mind of the philosophy of Randy Pausch. In fact, Rose and her late husband had been deeply affected by Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search For Meaning”.

As all of us were helping to lay her physical body to rest by placing the first few shovels of earth on her casket, Rose was still teaching, still influencing those around her. What a wonderful legacy she left - even to those of us who did not know her well before yesterday.

Free Range

I need to preface this post with a disclaimer: I am not a Mom. I have nieces and nephews and love being an Auntie. But I understand clearly that Aunties and Moms are two entirely different roles in life.

O.K. That said, I found this website to be intriguing: Free Range Kids. A phrase has recently entered the lexicon “helicopter parents”. It describes parents who constantly hover around their children. Free Range Kids is a concept formed by Lenore Skenazy in response to overprotecting and over scheduling children. As Ms. Skenazy puts it: “Free-Rangers believe in helmets, car seats, seat belts — safety! We just do NOT believe that every time school age kids go outside, they need a security detail.”

I grew up with pretty protective parents. I knew some kids whose parents were truly over-protective. My parents were strict enough that they came in handy if I needed to say “No I can’t go (fill in the blank for do something stupid) with you. You know my parents would kill me!” But even with them being as protective as they were, I spent a great deal of time out in the world, on my own. Before the house across the street was built, I built forts there. There was a school one street over where I sat by myself and wrote my first poem. When I was somewhere between 12 and 14 years old, Dad got me my ten speed bike and I was gone. I would ride from our home in Warwick down to East Greenwich and on to Potowomut. I would visit with friends and we’d ride all over together. But sometimes I’d be by myself. Truth be told, I would often ride my bike down to church, sit in a pew and visit with God, so I wasn’t exactly a hellion! But the point was I was out and about, on my own, with no cell phone, just some coins for a pay phone in case of emergency and a wrist watch. I had to be home on time, so the watch was part of the uniform.

I know there is a perception that the world was a whole lot safer back in the day. I often share that perception. I feel the clutch of fear whenever an Amber Alert goes out. I remember Holly Piranian and Molly Bish. Yet there is still something inside of me that is convinced that the world is, on balance, a pretty safe place. What I gained from being out and about on my own, whether it was a block or two away or several miles, was a great gift. Especially to a shy, sometimes really scared little kid who discovered she possessed more self confidence and a more adventuresome spirit than she thought she had. I wouldn’t want to take that away from any child.

Repugnant

Today, Capuchin Father Raniero Cantalamessa, preacher of the Pontifical Household, delivered the homily at the celebration of the Lord's passion in St. Peter's Basilica. The liturgy was presided over by Pope Benedict XVI. In his Good Friday homily Rev. Cantalamessa discusses the priesthood in great detail. He also discusses violence in the world and makes the following statement: “I am not speaking here of violence against children, of which unfortunately also elements of the clergy are stained; of that there is sufficient talk outside of here.” O.K. He references the sexual abuse of children by priests, but chooses not to expound upon it. But at the very end of the homily, he compares the criticism of the Church about that very same sexual abuse and the decades long cover up, to anti-semitism.

Stunning.

The logic is unfathomable. Under this distorted logic the criminals become the victims; those who call out for justice and clarity become the oppressors. How can Rev. Cantalamessa, in the presence of Pope Benedict XVI, claim that criticism of the Church is discrimination? How can criticism of the hierarchy that moved priests, who sexually assaulted children, around from parish to parish and built a wall of secrecy; defended the indefensible, how can criticism of such shameful and illegal acts be discrimination? And how can such justifiable criticism possibly be compared to centuries of violent discrimination against the Jews?

You can read more in this Washington Post article.

Da Dum, Da Dum, Da Dum...*

Thanks to WBZ Weather

: : We had a run of great weather; now rain for a few days; to be followed by more nice weather - bordering on the hot. But for some reason, this rainstorm has closed in on me. Looking at the next wave of rain headed our way, made me want to crawl into bed and pull the covers up and maybe over. Compared to many parts of New England facing another round of dangerous flooding, I have absolutely nothing to complain about. So I shall move on.

: : On a small town note, Chuck recently attended a Meet The Candidates night. (Here in Massachusetts, local elections are often held in the spring; national and statewide elections usually in the autumn.) You can read a statement published in the newspaper by a candidate running for local office. But you can’t beat seeing how they present themselves in front of their fellow citizens. It’s especially illuminating to listen and observe how they answer questions from those citizens. In some towns candidates run unopposed, or slates are empty. So we really are lucky to have folks interested in serving. I was unable to go, but I trust Chuck’s instincts. When he reported back and gave me some examples from the presentations and the Q & A, I felt ready to head to the polls.

: : This article and this photograph both made me smile. Chag Sameach!


*That title is supposed to evoke the theme from the movie "Jaws"!