Judy Gomberg puts a funny, heartfelt and humorous spin on being a boomer. She beautifully captures the songs of our lives as our memories grow longer, deeper and stronger.
Dear Kindly Dr. Fauci You told it like it is To the buffoon who’s in there packing And face we’ll never miss Our world will turn the corner, when Joe and Jill are in the house We are mixing up our outfit To usher out this louse Counting down the minutes, until Nov. 3rd When we get to say good riddens to this consummate of Turds Our yoga we’ll continue, meditate away our fear With prayers hopefully answered We’ll focus on next year Batons and bags of glitter, are waiting at the door Good-bye to President Ratchet No longer for 4 more.
Swipe your nose, put on a new sweater and shuffle the cards. Who wants to keep score? Short term goal, in house Virus Clearance. Let’s go over to a friend’s home, grab a seat and start all over again. Our dreams realized (soon enough) when we will have an increment of control over our short term destiny. With the scientists at the helm as our Generals and precautionary actions strongly positioned, perhaps we can reboot close to where we left off 9 months ago. We long for the days when some of our challenges were remembering to take our talon, or not overlooking an available tile to replace with a Joker on the rack across the table. Our day’s of glory during The Golden Years when deciding between tuna or chicken for lunch was knee jerk familiar, as our knee’s jerked. Yes, we remember them well with euphoric recall. Let’s spin it forward and look toward exhuming our “prior normal,” when we didn’t mind all that much whether we left the day with our “change purses” filled with quarters or not. When precious grandkids could hug us from the waist up and when toasting one another’s good fortune resonated loudly with the click of our glasses. Eat the cole slaw- sugar laden or not!
It is June 2025 and I am getting ready for my high school graduation. I am graduating with honors and excelled at the top of my class in creative writing. I was bestowed the honor of delivering a speech on my take away of the Covid-19 virus that plagued the world in 2020. It is 5 years later and although it took the better part of 2 years until the eye of the storm subsided, we were left with a brave new world. The last five years have defined our world and my youth in ways that could never have been believed with no preparation in site. We were human shock absorbers. In guinea pig fashion we were isolated in our own boats navigating a storm flooded with fear, rage and no real answers. The virus knew no limits and left it’s mark on millions of innocent bystanders. We never knew if it was our turn to suffer on the front line of battle. We spent time dodging bullets, while baking blueberry pound cake with our siblings in lockdown mode. There were months on end where no expiration date was just that. As 13 year olds while forming friendship’s was top of mind, we were concurrently learning to fight an enemy that could come from around any corner, on any block. The streets crowded with people wearing masks was a clear visual of the enemy at hand. As lucky kids, the worst we knew was strep or a wrist sling from breaking a fall on the basketball court. Yet, we came to understand we were now dealing with deregulating the rules of the health cards as we knew them. Belly aches, scrapped knees and irritated gums from braces were mere annoyances compared to what we were up against. Fast forward and with no braces in sight, I am dressing in a new suit and sporting a tie decorated with happy faces. We survived and are thriving as a vaccine and maintenance program is in place. While overcoming an act of G-d, and a human disaster that has left us with emotional scars, I will address my graduating class today with honor. I will look in the eyes of my friends and know we developed strong friendships in spite of the scariest of times. My take away dear friends is if anyone one of us falls a little behind, we will wait till you catch up. We all started behind the starting line and emerged stronger and knowing together is “hashtag” better.We listened to what Dr. Fauci suggested!
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Dear Kindly Dr. Fauci You warned us way back then The world would need more healing Till it came around the bend We trust you as the expert who quite simply tells the truth Your experience and knowledge Stood strong against uncouth We miss our precious grandkids The fear so deep and strong We’ll adhere to your instructions For better right then wrong Our eyes look toward the future We’ll anticipate the day When we get the golden text So, can you come out and play?
Ere of chai 18 days and counting Tragedies by score Much less to say then more Again we’ll underscore Words like destroy and abhor Circling the drain from pain With oh so much to gain Fingers crossed and cross our heart Praying big for a brand new start!
Farewell “Murder No Mystery ”party on front lawn of Our White House. Where were you when Kennedy was shot? Our young, formative, developmental years were spent during the 1960’s. Knee socks, tennis sweaters, madras blouses, loden coats, pea jackets and wrangler dungarees were our go to’s.We learned to take the right action and let go of the results. Respect your elders, do unto others and lend a helping hand, basic adages that started on our front lawn in front of our white house. Destroyed norms of human behavior were unimaginable as we stood stalwart with presidential reverence. If all things point in the direction of the change of guards I pray we all work together to heal, as the initial pain fades and the last remnant is professionally cleaned from memory.
There’s a George Bernard Shaw quote that speaks to the dangers of debating Donald Trump: “I learned long ago never to wrestle with a pig,” the adage goes. “You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it.” No matter what happened in Cleveland on Tuesday night, Joe Biden was always going to wind up with at least a little mud on him. But he was absolutely covered in it by the end of the first 2020 debate. From the outset, Trump turned the proceedings into an absolute fiasco—a grotesque, impossible-to-watch bickering match led by a president who bulldozed over the moderator and his opponent with a deluge of familiar lies, empty boasts, and rage.
The room was comfortably full, not packed. The A/C offered a Brrr so any remnant of heat left over from Indian Summer was left outside our “four walls.”Rabbi Lookstein walked up to the podium with his particular cadence I’ve come to know through the years. I was appropriately clad in the “right” length skirt. And so the stage was set, the evening began.
I was at KJ Synagogue to hear Dr. Rabbi Ari Berman, President of Yeshiva University speak. The write up about the evening caught my eye and the kids set me up to gain entrance. He spoke on Sin, Self Perception and the Art of Living.
The timing for me to hear this was propitious. Yes, G-d offers no coincidences. I walked away from the evening a little more fine tuned on some immediate issues that have been dealt to my extended family.
He touched on the distinction between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. He detailed the difference in prayer between looking at and embracing your sins, your misgivings and your wrongdoings. He was light on the emphasis of sins necessarily being terrible shandas worthy of punishments and more on ways we have wronged others. He moved on to the meaning of wearing white on Yom Kippur and praying for the forgiveness of the past year’s behaviors that we feel we can better. He was straightforward, his words flowed with a pleasant melody and his sincerity offered comfort. We, as Jewish people are factually in the minority.
Our importance and roles in society however, quite the contrary. What was in the minority last night as well, were cells phones beeping, ringing or being accessed. We were there to listen, perhaps learn and be respectful of a very busy man sharing his knowledge and wisdom about keeping the peace pipe moving. L’dor V’dor.
I left the Rabbi’s sermon feeling comfortable, embraced and that my well being was cared about by a virtual stranger, an ordained man.
In the love your neighbor category and a look after your own way, I question why it is often easier to be more kind to strangers than intimates. As a divine order play out, we are placed in positions, in families and situations that because we are “just humans” will inevitably offer conflict and need for repair. So perhaps just for today, four days short of wearing a white outfit and maybe even sneakers why not look to our left, glance to our right and say we are sorry to an intimate we may have wronged. Perhaps if we begin to own our piece of behavior we can move on in a healthy way to the sounds of cell phones ringing and beeps of texts coming in. Amen!
We are living through a chapter in time where some days bare minimums fall short of being met. Where judgments are hopefully leveled and helping hands and legs up are the norm.
If our heart displays it is always in the right place, then we can only hope cutting each other slack is practiced. We are made up of qualities of good and foibles that deem us human. Making it easier for one another when we can is optimum and listed high on our list of priorities. This is no time to bemoan our fate, but Avinu Malkenu, please give us a sign that one foot in front of the other, well intended, will soon deliver us to safety. On September 18, 2008 we said good-bye to our Sophie-our Mother with Grace. On September 18, 2020 we said good-bye to the Mother of Country RBG. Sophie took our Sunshine away. Justice Ginsburg’s passing takes our breath away. Avinu Malkenu is the divine number “18”- chai designated to women of valor? Chet and Yud adding up to 18 in the Hebrew alphabet. An eternal plan-no coincidence.
