Future history

Funky title for a blog, no? Well, it's my husband's blog, so head on over there and check it out. He wrote here on this site a month ago with a guest post that was, in my opinion, hysterical if not a little heretical. The title was "God is a mob boss."

I know I am probably not the most impartial person in the world, but I always love reading his writing because he writes exactly how he speaks. And if you were to listen to him speak, you would realize why that is  so amazing. Anyway, enough blarney. I guess that's what happens when your father is an Irishman.

Whoever is hungry, come and eat

Pesach of 2001 was a very special year for me. What distinguished this Seder night from all previous Sedarim (pl. Seder) was that the Shlomo Carlebach Haggadah that I was using was edited by none other than yours truly. I have since edited two other Haggadot, but this particular year stays fresh in my memory.

Before I began working on this project, I had been a big Shlomo Carlebach fan, and had even met "the singing rabbi" personally a couple of times in my childhood. I must have been about ten years old when he first stayed at our house during one of his trips to our colorless city (that would be Manchester, England). My father's close friend was responsible for organizing his performances in Manchester, and asked my father if he could stay overnight at our house - how could you possibly say no to Shlomo Carlebach? Well, anyway, that's my claim to fame. Shlomo Carlebach stayed at our house when I was a kid.

It's gotta be said that Shlomo Carlebach's singing voice is pretty dire - as those of you who are familiar with his music will be able to testify - but his tunes (niggunim) are so uplifting that they leave you soaring in the clouds. It's other-worldly. All the petty worries and fears that weigh you down on a daily basis are suddenly removed - at that moment, it's just you and G-d. To this day, I really feel that Carlebach music is therapy for the soul.

So you can imagine my excitement when the Carlebach Haggadah manuscript landed on my desk. Before I began reading it, I knew it would be a success. The idea of relating Rabbi Carlebach's teachings and stories to the Haggadah and Seder night was ingenious. His insights into the human condition and his profound lessons on the meaning of true freedom raised the Seder night to a whole new level.

A few weeks before the Haggadah went to print, I had to select an excerpt to appear on the back cover. Considering there were hundreds of stories and messages from which to choose, this was not an easy decision. Since food is perpetually on my mind, I eventually opted for Rabbi Carlebach's interpretation of the words in the Haggadah which translate as "Whoever is hungry, let him come and eat." The words do have a Michael Jackson feel to them, but nonetheless I felt that this excerpt encapsulated Rabbi Carlebach's philosophy on life:

Friends, this is our generation. This is you and I, but most of all it's our children. There's such a hunger in the world for something beautiful, something holy - a hunger for one good word, one holy word, one message from God. People are hungry for something lofty, glorious. So this is my wish for all of us: Let the hungry people get together - everyone who's hungry for holiness, friendship, for love - with the people who are hungry to give their children one word from God. Let's get together! Let's you and I fix the world!

The three dashes (this is for you, Alan)

One of my readers asked me the following grammar question as a follow-up to this post:

I would appreciate a lesson on the use of the hyphen in sentence construction. I use it sparingly when I think I am using it correctly, but I am never quite sure frankly...My question is … can the hyphens be used as a substitution for commas or is their usage different?

Well, firstly, as listed in every editor's bible, the Chicago Manual of Style, there are three types of dashes - hyphens, en dashes, and em dashes. They all have different functions, and to make life fun, are all different lengths (the dash used in this sentence is an em dash):

  1. The hyphen is the shortest of the three dashes, and is used in the following ways:
    1. hyphens can connect two words, such as "hair-raiser," "eye-opener."
    2. hyphens are used in compound numbers, "thirty-seven," "forty-nine."
    3. hyphens are used with the prefixes, ex-, self-, and all, e.g. ex-boyfriend, self-assured, and all-encompassing.

    The hyphen can be found on the keyboard on the underscore key, next to the "0" computer key.

  2. Now we come to the en dash, which is longer in length than the hyphen, and is used to connect continuing, or inclusive, numbers, e.g. the years 1968-72, 10:00-5:00 P.M.

    The en dash can be found on the keyboard by pressing Ctrl and the grey minus key on the numeric keyboard.

  3. Last but not least, the em dash, which is double the size of the en dash, and is used in the following ways:
    1. The em dash, or a pair of dashes, can be used to denote a sudden break in thought:

      I know a person—let's call her Elizabeth—who is extremely gregarious.

    2. And now, in answer to your question, Alan, an em dash can also be used to separate ideas in a sentence which is long and complex, or in one that has an excessive amount of commas:

      On our way to see my brother and sister-in-law in Modi'in—which is located between Jerusalem and Tel Aviv—we stopped off at a cafe for a bite to eat.

AidelMaidel is engaged!

Okay, perhaps there is something weird about me taking out some tissues when I read the news on AidelMaidel's blog that she said "yes" to "Mr. Sky High." I don't know the woman, for heaven's sake. Yet here I am crying with tears of joy for this ultra-Orthodox single mother of two.

A while ago, I was talking to a friend about the phenomenon of blogging, and I told him that I read two or three blogs (or six or seven) everyday. The guy was gobsmacked. He thought it was very strange - almost voyeuristic - that I took such an interest in the lives of strangers. Well, the way I see it, it is better than shedding tears over some brainless soap opera that is 100% fiction.

AidelMaidel has, up until this point, suffered a lot in her life: she was the victim of child abuse, and was left virtually penniless after divorcing her husband just a few years ago. I admit to following religiously her trials and tribulations as she went on a series of blind dates with no-hopers, and I rooted for her when she finally met Mr. Sky High (all her dates have been given aliases on the blog). Theirs has not been a long courtship; they started dating less than three months ago (anyone who knows me will realize the irony of this statement, considering Josh and I only dated for six weeks before getting engaged), and today AidelMaidel announced on her site their engagement.

The funny part is that her readers have lately been expressing their concern about her relationship with Mr. Sky High, and the speed at which it was progressing. They feared that she was rushing in to the relationship, and after the debacle of her first marriage, she should be more cautious. I found AidelMaidel's response to her readers' expressions of concern very amusing:

I am surprised how many of you commented and emailed me in regards to the Baker's Dozen post about Mr. Sky-High.

I would like to remind all of you that you only get the information that I give you. What I don't share here means you don't know about it. Out of deference to Mr. Sky-High's right to privacy, and my great respect for him, I don't share all the gory details of our dates. After 14 dates that average 5 hours a piece, I think I know him significantly better than the readers of my blog, since you only get klalim in regards to him, and I actually know the person.

You also seem to forget that I am not going into this blindly. There were extensive reference checks on Mr. Sky-High before I even agreed to go out with him. There are rabbis, rebbetzins and a shadchan who are all consulted after every date. It's not like this is some guy I picked up in a bar two days ago and am agreeing to marry him. It's also not like my parents arranged this match, I meet him once, and BAM, we're married.

Is Mr. Sky-High perfect? Nope.
Is he everything that I said I wanted in a husband? Almost.
Can I live with the things that he isn't because he does have the things I truly need? Yes.

I've already been in one bad marriage. (Of which, you guys don't know the details either - you don't know why it went wrong and what I did to make it work over the years.) I'm not interested in repeating it. I'm going into this with my eyes WIDE open. I know what Mr. Sky-High's good points are and I know what areas he needs to improve upon. The question is, can I live with those areas that need improvement? Yes, I think I can.

That being all said, Mr. Sky-High is completely different from any man I've ever dated. I have always had terrible taste in men, and have always gone for men who were bad boys or simply bad for me. Mr. Sky-High is a boring, straight-forward, nice guy. That's why I didn't want to go out with him again after the first date. Thank G-d, my rebbetzin pushed me to go again, because there was simply no reason not to.

And as I've discovered, Mr. Sky-High while a boring, straight-forward, nice guy, is also probably the only man I've met with real, true passion. Because it's passion based on a love for another person instead of a passion based on narcissistic self-love. And it's something deep, profound, and not something easily put into words. I see he cares for me very deeply and cherishes me for me - for who I am, imperfections and all.

Do I know how much longer this is going to take, until we both feel ready? I have no clue. Only Hashem knows if and when. Until that time, feel free to give me your advice - just don't expect me to take it.

She's right. She definitely calls the shots in deciding which information to share with her readers, but - and I open up this question to all of you - on the other hand, if she is revealing the details of her personal life on a blog, is she not leaving herself open to people's comments, opinions (you know, two Jews - three opinions), and unwanted pieces of advice? If she was just blogging for cathartic purposes, why not keep a journal in a Word file, where it is safe from nosy individuals?

That being said, her engagement is really great news, and I wish her and her fiance many happy and healthy years together, whether shared on the blogosphere or not.

  

Rules are made to be broken

Any self-respecting editor or publisher will tell you that it is all well and good to have your own individual preferences when it comes to style issues, but what is critical at the end of the day is consistency. Always be consistent. If you choose to italicize a certain transliterated word, make sure to do this throughout. People can forgive a strange spelling of a word, but what is truly unforgivable is inconsistency.

Be warned, though: Do not get caught in the following trap. Word has a feature called Find and Replace, which enables you to make global changes to the file by finding the word in question and correcting it. NEVER select "Find and replace all" - there may be certain instances where the correction should not be applied. For example, you may want to replace the word "apple" globally with "fruit." If you were to do a global Find and Replace, you run the risk of inserting the word "fruit" with a lower-case f at the beginning of a sentence, where a capped letter should really be used. As tedious as it is, you need to search through each example of the word, and determine whether the correction is appropriate.

Another little tidbit of information relating to consistency. Let us look at numbers. If your work is filled with a lot of mathematical and statistical data, you may decide to use numerals. For example, "There are 25 graduate students in the French department, 22 in the classics department, and 270 in the physics department, making a total of 317 students in the three departments." The exception to the rule of using numerals is when the number is the first word in the sentence. At the beginning of a sentence, any number that would ordinarily be written in numerals is spelled out, regardless of any inconsistency this may create:

"Twenty-seven percent of the cost was guaranteed."

At a loss for words

A woman from my husband's community in America lost her mother last week, so we went to pay her a Shiva call (meaning "seven" in Hebrew, Shiva is a seven-day mourning period observed by Jews) .

I am not sure if there is anyone who actually enjoys paying Shiva visits - you would probably have to be quite a disturbed individual if you derived any pleasure from such a situation - but I particularly find the visits uncomfortable. The laws and customs of Shiva are such that comforting the bereaved is no mean feat.

To begin with, according to Jewish custom, you are not supposed to initiate conversation with the bereaved - you should wait until he/she has spoken to you. It is hard enough as it is to find the right words to express one's condolences - especially when you barely know the bereaved or the person who died - but when you have to wait for the person to speak... it can be extremely awkward.

Visitors are also supposed to recite the traditional words of consolation, HaMakom Yenachem et'chem b'toch she'ar avelei Tzion vi'Yerushlayim, which translates as May the omnipresent comfort you together with the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem. I have a good memory in general, and am able to memorize telephone numbers, car registration numbers (don't ask - as a kid, remembering car registration numbers was a quirky hobby of mine), and birthdays of people I barely know. My husband is constantly asking me to remind him about his family's birthdays, anniversaries, etc.

Anyway, enough blowing my own trumpet. The point is that in the 28 years of my life, I have NEVER been able to remember, and correctly recite, the eight Hebrew words of consolation written above. I mumble the words quickly and quietly in the hope that the bereaved will just nod and move on to the next person. What makes the situation even more pathetic is the fact that in most Shiva houses, a paper is taped to the wall with the verse written on it, so there is very little excuse - save for illiteracy - for not being able to say the words.

I remember when I first started working for a publishing house in Jerusalem, one of my bosses, who wasn't religious, tragically lost his wife at the age of 33, and my other boss took me to the Shiva house to visit the family. I was a bundle of nerves throughout the visit as I silently tried to repeat the words in my head. The deceased woman's mother, who was very elderly, was hard of hearing, so my tactic of mumbling the words quickly and quietly didn't really work. Upon saying the words, she turned to me and, unsure of what I had said, asked me to repeat myself. It was one of those "I-wish-the-ground-would-swallow-me-up" moments.

Another equally embarrassing incident was when my aunt in London was sitting Shiva for her mother. When the time came at the end of the visit for me to recite the words of comfort, I recited instead the verse you say when you are scared of being attacked by a dog - "Lechol yisroel lo yecheratz kelev leshono" loosely translated as, "No dog's tongue should hurt any member of Israel." Given the fact that I have been petrified since childhood of both dogs and my Moroccan aunt, I guess there is some logic as to why at that particular moment, that verse left my lips. My aunt's expression of horror will stay with me forever. You can imagine how mortified I was.

So when we paid the Shiva visit today, I made my husband repeat the verse again and again in the car, and my eyes barely left the piece of paper in the room with the words on it, but alas I messed up again. Go figure.

Guilt baskets - an ingenious way to feed off armchair Zionists

There are some things in life that are constants. Some of them good, some of them not so good. Almost every chag (Jewish holiday), we are the unlucky recipients of the aforementioned Guilt Basket from a person we know in the States. If you peruse this website, the baskets contain items that can be purchased from our supermarkets for less than 50 shekel, but which costs the naive American over $50. Every chag, Josh and I keep telling ourselves that we should just phone her up and say, "Listen, it's really sweet 'n all, and I know you think that you are supporting the Israeli economy, but you are being ripped off good and proper, and the company is taking you for a ride with your guilt gift basket." But we don't have the heart.

Just a few days ago, this person told us that she wouldn't be sending us the guilt basket, and that she would give us money instead. Hallelujah!! But as we got off the phone, and had a good laugh about it, we realized that these companies who market their gift baskets to Americans are sitting on a goldmine. How many American Jews are there who do not want to make Aliyah and relinquish their creature comforts, but who want to make themselves feel good by supporting the Israeli economy?

In plain English, what these sites are really saying is the following:

For $50, give yourself a pat on the back, and send your loved ones who are sacrificing their lives in Israel on a daily basis some Telma date spread and some stale cookies. They will be eternally grateful.

For $100, you will go down in the books as nothing short of a hero. With some choice Cabernet Sauvignon wine and some Elite chocolates, no one will ever wonder again why you are over 10,000 miles away sitting in front of your plasma TV instead of making sacrifices for the future of the Jewish people.

Ingenious.

"Americans Eat Fewer Vegetables" - no kidding, sherlock

We normally get to the States once a year, and although I used to be a self-confessed shopaholic who admittedly spent her entire wages in those glorious single days on buying clothes from Zara, what really gets me excited nowadays when we travel to the US is not the prospect of H&M and Banana Republic, but rather THE FOOD.

I don't buy into the promises that scream out in large bold letters from the packaging - no-fat, no cholesterol, no trans-fatty acids - you only need to look at the obese people wheeling around the even more obese people in wheelchairs in Disney World to realize that there is something essentially flawed about eating zero fat snacks all day long.

That being said, hailing from England where the choice of Kosher products was painfully slim, and ending up in Israel where low-fat snacks are hardly in abundance, I feel like Alice in Wonderland each time we find ourselves in ShopRite. The aisles are so wide that you could bring your entire extended family along for a shopping trip - uncles, aunts, cousins twice removed - and you could still stand side-by-side. The choice of food is just mind-blowing. I really don't know how the average shopping trip in the US can last any less than 3 hours. I don't. When I go food shopping, it is a totally new and alien cultural experience. It feels almost futuristic.

The only thing I really miss about Israel, and find myself hankering for, when I am in the States is decent vegetables. The vegetables are SO tasteless that I am surprised that they are not automatically sold together with salad dressing as a package. It is no surprise, therefore, that according to this article, "fruit consumption amongst Americans is holding steady, but that vegetable consumption is heading down, even if you include French Fries."

Gee, I wonder why.

Divine retribution or murphy's law?

Less than 24 hours after my scathing attack against 93.6 RAM FM on this blog, a crime occurred that will prevent me from bad-mouthing or commenting on this radio station for a long time to come...

We were about to put our kids into their respective car seats this morning when I did a double take. I was groggy and tired after having been up with the kids since 6am, so I wasn't sure if I was seeing things, but soon enough confirmation came through: there were shards of glass covering the ground - our car window had been smashed and our car radio had been stolen. It only occurred to me much later on that in our now radio-less state, I would have little opportunity to ridicule John Berks and his co-hosts. Hey, maybe it was even John himself who made the trip from the West Bank to avenge my attack. Well, John, if you are reading this: it won't work.

Joking aside, it was a pretty nasty thing to wake up to in the morning. The thief didn't share our taste in music - he (or she, you never know) overlooked the CD case filled with close to 50 CDs that was on the passenger seat - it may as well have said on it: TAKE ME. But instead the thief opted for our cheap car radio. Well, no one said that car thieves are the brightest bulbs in the box.

93.6 RAM FM - Whatever is the world coming to?

Several months ago, I was very excited to come across a new independent English radio station which played non-stop music. 93.6 RAM FM started out as a demo radio station, so there was no talking or commentary - just amazing back-to-back hits from all decades, and the best part of this radio station was that you could almost forget that you lived in a country where the pop music is nothing short of appalling.

Israel may be at the cutting edge of medical innovations, and we may have the largest number of start-ups in the world per capita, but our music is AWFUL. Don't-give-up-your-day-job awful. Ayal Golan and Shlomo Artzi are conceivably the worst rock pop singers of all time, so it was a great relief when I finally found some music that could actually be classified as "music."

In fact, the first time I discovered 93.6 RAM FM, I was on my way to somebody's house for a meeting, and I was enjoying the music so much that I drove round the block three times once I arrived at the person's house just so I could listen to "one more song." (Wouldn't that make a great TV commercial? A person is about to get out of their car and head into the office, but enjoys the radio station so much that he just keeps driving.)

Anyway, before you get caught up in the positivity that is exuding from this post, let me tell you that this story does not have a happy ending. Cinderella did not go to the ball. A month ago, the demo period ended, and 93.6 RAM FM was officially launched, with presenters, the news, the works.

They call themselves the "Middle East Peace Radio" - yup, I should have known that trouble was brewing just from the name - and claim to provide objective reporting, avoiding such potentially inflammatory words as "terrorist," "suicide bomb" or "martyr" and instead will say, "A Palestinian blew himself up this morning."

In the words of Andrew Bolton, the station's news editor, "We are committed to telling both sides of the story. We are apolitical and will not toe any political line, other than peace." Riiiiiiiiiight. Is that why I have never heard the word "Israel" leave their mouths? If they ever do have to refer to Israel, they dance around the "I" word and will opt instead for, "the Middle East."

For a radio station that claims to be “objective,” they’re doing a “wonderful job” of hiding their bias. Not. They have yet to present the news from the perspective of the Israelis. In case you think I am bitter, I have no problem with a radio station that is pro-Arab, but do me a favor and don’t pretend to be impartial. It’s just annoying.

As for their South African radio talk show host, John Berks, known as the “Legendary 702 deejay,” I have yet to hear him string together a sentence that makes sense. His jokes are dirty, racist, and totally unfunny, and his tendency to repeat himself o-o-over and o-o-over again - “baby, baby”, “you teasy-tease, you” - makes you question what the nature of his “legendary” status was in South Africa. He has absolutely zero - nada - knowledge of the Middle East, and had to consult with the radio manager to find out what “RAM” stood for in response to a caller’s question.

If only they would have just stuck to the music.