So when I turned “65” two years ago we celebrated at The Kotel in Israel. We contacted the Women at The Wall and created a rite of passage. I raised my hand to G-d, all the time holding onto the wall. Social security, Medicare with AARP F supplemental, drug plan (no not that kind)- nexium cocktails, carpal tunnel procedures, medical tests you can’t pronounce; blah, blah, blah. Concurrently, however we brought back the supplemental bag of the good stuff that comes along with age appropriate hearing loss. Whatever that means. Longer periods of peace of mind on the top of the list. Recognizing “what”really matters and “who” doesn’t. Oh, and you don’t have to win every Mah jongg game as long as you were able to put the game together, big count. Binge watching Mrs. Maisel (shout out to Rhonda in three episodes), and The Kominsky Method, replaces filling your dance card with idle chatter while blind dating a new couple.
We returned to Israel this past Thanksgiving. Gave thanks as we watched our second grandson become a bar mitzvah. Piece of good luck.
Two years ago at the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv, I found a bar of soap that I love. Story to follow.
We met up with a high school buddy (Jon Kuritsky) for those in the know and his wife Diana. She introduced me to the soap. They live in a beautiful village on the Mediterranean several hours north of Tel Aviv called Shavei Zion. It is in between Acco and Nahariya. They do many interesting things with their lives. She’s a writer, he tows their land and they operate an inn/spa called NEA.
Here’s where the soap comes in. I learned about a part of life or in fact death I never knew about before. Diana and Jon, pay it forward in a meritorious way. They are part of community of people who are known as Chevra Kadisha. Their responsibilities are to prepare the dead before burial. At first I thought how morbid, how scary. When I realized someone chooses to do so as the religious experience of being the last person to see the dead, I came to see it differently. My hat goes off to them, as it would not even be wIthin the realm of possibility for me to ever consider. My charitable paying it forward has a much different tone to it. Anyway, I used the bar of soap for two years, sparingly. It was great for everything from washing my face, to getting tough stains out. If you are still reading, I ended up getting another bar of this soap from a cousin who lives in Israel. My take away is that symbolically the soap is a symbolic for cleansing the body and mind. We simultaneously count blessings all the while trying hard not to step on the cracks, while leaping into the next phases of life. We buy lite mayo and thinks it tastes fine, sign up for Pilates and appreciate that the FOMO’s (feelings of missing out) really only exist when you are. Make it a great Saturday!
to third ward park. We would convene around Tom Sabas truck and hung out with our group. The allure of Passaic in the sixties has lasted our lifetime. Can you say right place, right time? See you at Ginsburgs, I heard they got new color bangle bracelets.
that your schmaltze and sugar laden food helped add wisdom to your 95 years. You didn’t exercise, but you never sat down. You worked the majority of your life and when you stopped formally working you worked at whatever you did. As you gathered your loved ones around the table, your emotional nutrition sustained us and your cooking created memories that still linger. We talk about your baking as treasures. We reminisce about your traditions and their intensity is still palpable. How lucky my sisters and cousins were to have Our Bubby Chicken. So at this time of year, as we turn our calendars forward, why not exhume your Grandma, Grammy or Bubby memories. Hanging with her babies and watching them grow into themselves was her Pilates, her group therapy and our legacy. So Bub, here’s to our days gone by. We carry you in our hearts and tapping into your Sechel gives us reasons to believe, especially when we loose our way. And by the way I spend more time “looking the other way,” as my knee jerks.
we would close the blinds, and it would be the stars, the moon and us. These years added years to my life as I was adding a slice of life to theirs. Even during times when not exactly everything played out to being able to name that tune, we put the mishap aside as we know “good prevails.” In the game of bridge finding the right 8 card fit depends greatly on how your partner plays his cards. In this case the deck was stacked in our favor. Our good- byes for now were always with the look of when will we do it again. I’ll take how would you like to see the next thirteen years of your life play out- by hitting the replay button and dance like everyone is watching.
arosebyanyothername2016 