OyChicago blog

The best Jewish Christmas ever

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12/23/2010

The best Jewish Christmas I ever had was when I was 16. My sister was going to New York University for graduate school at the time and my parents gave me their blessing to visit her during my winter break and see New York City for the first time.

Christmastime was both an odd and magical time to experience New York City. The city was a-glitter with decorations and festivities. My sister and I went sight-seeing: We shopped and ate around Greenwich Village; we bought hot chocolates and went to Rockefeller Center; we visited the top of the Empire State Building; we ate dinner in Little Italy, with Christmas garlands and Italian lights strewn over the streets. We even went to see the holiday windows at Macy’s—that is, before Macy’s became evil and bought every Marshall Field’s in Chicago.

It’s weird and also not strange at all to be a Jew during Christmastime in New York City. In some ways, the whole city feels Jewish, what with the availability of deli food at 3 a.m. and the fact that everyone sounds a little Jewish.

However, I was reminded of how insignificant the Jews are, even in Manhattan, when Christmas actually arrived and the city shut down—yes, even New York City has a sleepy night on Christmas. My sister and I followed suit with our family ritual of eating Chinese food on Christmas Eve and went to Chinatown. Afterward, we skimmed the streets for something to do and stumbled into the Comedy Cellar—a comedy club which has featured the likes of Jerry Seinfeld, Robin Williams and Dave Chappelle. To our delight, the club was filled with Jews. And, not only was it filled with Jews, but diverse Jews, including a group of teenage Chasidim. The comedians had a good time with the audience and poked fun at the fact that we were the only ones out on Christmas. Oddly, I felt a sense of Jewish solidarity that night that I’d never even experienced growing up in a nearly all-Jewish suburb of Chicago.

Growing up on the North Shore, I was keenly aware that most around me were Jewish. But, this didn’t help the fact that Christmas was a lonely and boring time for the Jews. While many of us were Jewish, the local businesses still closed and there was nothing to do on Christmas but eat Chinese food and go to a movie. We all did it. Big whoop.

Perhaps I needed to move away from my Jewish hometown to truly appreciate my Jewish-ness on Christmas. Only in the last few years living in Chicago have I been able to rekindle some of that Jewish solidarity magic that I experienced that night in New York City.

As my roommate, who also attended a predominantly Jewish school growing up pointed out, having no-school days for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur were like free days for the non-Jews to romp around and have fun. For us, we meant business—religiously that is. Christmas in Chicago is a bit like that for the Jews. On Christmas Eve and Christmas day the Jews have nothing to do but go out and play.

I became aware of how funny and amazing this phenomenon is when I started attending the Jewish bar events in Chicago on Christmas Eve. On Christmas Eve, the city of Chicago is ours for the taking. There is something tranquil and delightful about the snowy streets that are empty—if not for the Jews. I’ve run into people I haven’t seen in years!

On Christmas Eve and Christmas day we all come out from our neighborhood crevices in the city and reunite for a night of mayhem, and a day of good ol’ Asian food and a flick. We nod with a knowing smile to those we haven’t met; we hug and kibitz with those we have. Beginning on December 24th, Chicago is a Jewish city for 24 hours.

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My strategy – getting the most out of the Jewish singles scene

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12/23/2010

How to sweeten your dating life photo 2

Sam: You going to the Matzo Ball?
Noah: Hell. No.
Sam: Why not?
Noah: Because I went last year and it sucked.
Sam: Awww, it wasn’t that bad.
Noah: Yeah, it was. You don’t remember? We paid $50 bucks for one hour of drinks and pretzels. And none of the women there wanted to talk to us.
Sam: Hmm. Yea, I guess you’re right.

AND …somewhere else…

Hilary: I signed up for the Chanukah bash today! Have you registered yet?
Beth: Oh my God, Nooooo!
Hilary: Why not? We had fun last year!
Beth: We did? Because if I recall all we did was spend three hours talking to Robyn, Amy, and Michelle. Why do we need to go to somewhere to pay to talk to them? Plus, none of the guys will talk to us.
Hilary: Hmm. Yeah,  that’s true.

My single Jewish Brothers and Sisters, my Aunt Judith was right when she said, “You really should just go. G-oh!!!! GO find yourself a girl for God sakes!!! It’d be nice to go to a wedding before I die!”

With that being said, I’d like to offer some of my own words of wisdom to get the most out of your Young Adult Jewish Party experience.  It’s all very remedial and you probably already have this figured out. So, consider this a refresher.  Feel free to disagree with me or offer your own advice. But, c’mon, I’m just trying to do my part to help you find an alternative to JDate. (Sorry JDate, you know that as much as I hate you, I’ll always keep crawling back.)

You go to a million Jewish events and always end up talking to the same friends you arrived with, right? Well, that’s because you had no plan. You were passive. You played it safe to save embarrassment and rejection. Well, you’re in good company. Just look around at your next Jew Party, notice how little mixing is going on? C’mon cowboys and cowgirls, there’s cattle to be herded, saddle-up and ride. Here’s my strategy for landing yourself a stallion (or a cute Jewish girl):

Have a plan: Whether you go alone or go with friends, you need a plan. If you’re going with friends and your goal is to meet some new people, tell your friends in advance that your plan is to mingle and meet. You don’t want your buddy feeling abandoned when you go searching for love.

Give yourself a measurable goal: What do you want out of this? To meet someone to date, right? So, here’s what I suggest. Before you get to the event, make a goal and tell someone about it.

Example goal #1:  Introduce yourself to three new people of the opposite sex and maintain a 10 minute conversation with each of them.

Example goal #2: Spend no more than five minutes in a conversation that you don’t want to be in.  Don’t get trapped.

Example goal: Ask for one woman’s phone number for a date or offer a business card to a guy

Don’t even worry if nothing comes from your efforts to achieve these goals. Just make a promise to yourself that you won’t leave until it’s completed. And, don’t cheat.

Be confident: Do you get nervous sometimes meeting new people? Try giving yourself a code word for confidence. My new code word is “swagger.” I said swagger because I overheard a woman on the L describe a guy that way and she was totally crazy for him. I know it’s corny but when I say “swagger” it just makes me walk tall. If a code word doesn’t trigger a little bit of confidence, then try the old standby: booze.

Accept the awkwardness: It’s a Jewish young adult party with major doses of single people looking for someone. This is not a room of smooth talking George Clooneys or witty Jennifer Anistons. A lot of us are dorky and goofy. It’s okay to flub your opening line or say something weird. We all do it. Laugh it off. Jewish people are known for having good senses of humor. We’ve all accidently spit on someone because we had to shout over that nightclub’s crappy house music. So, take a deep breath, put on a non-creepy smile, and forge onward.

Have an exit plan for conversations: When you find yourself talking to someone longer than you want to, have a tactful way of bowing out of the conversation. Don’t allow yourself to be attacked by Mr. or Ms. Clingy because, before you realize it, the party is over. If you can’t come up with a nice way of walking away, just ask the person you’re talking to if they would excuse you for a moment to use the restroom. It’s not lying even if you don’t have to pee. Because, you really do need to go somewhere quiet and get re-focused. If that person is waiting for you when you come out, it sounds harsh, but keep moving. If you need a second way to get away from someone, say that you’ve spotted a friend way over on the other side of the room and need to catch them before they leave.

Hovering in a pack: If you have friends at this party and you want to talk to them then by all means form a circle and catch-up with them. Meet their other friends. Enjoy some male or female bonding. But, while you’re doing that, it’s not likely the man or woman of your dreams is going to approach your friendship circle. For most people, it’s too intimidating to a walk up to a group of people and single out someone. So, make a point to peel away from the group by yourself or with one other person. Go stand in line at the bar. That’s probably the easiest place to talk to someone new.

How do you meet someone at these things? Well, you could just walk up to them and say hello and give them your name. Yea, that’s all there is to it. But, if you want to be fancy you could ask for help, ask for advice, or pay someone a compliment about their shoes. People love to be helpful, especially when it costs them nothing.

So, okay, maybe this is all ridiculous and too elementary. But, ask yourself, “Are you going out to these events and feeling good about them?” If the answer is no, then, maybe it’s time to re-evaluate what you’re doing and make a change. Now go get ‘em!

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Interview with Former MLBer Norm Miller

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12/22/2010

Recently, TGR caught up with former Jewish MLBer Norm Miller. Miller played mainly for the Astros and finished his career in 1974 with the Atlanta Braves. He played with Hank Aaron and was there when he hit the home run to break Babe Ruth's record. Miller was nice enough to grant us an interview. Check it out below.

TGR:You had a 12 year career. What were some of the biggest highlights?
Norm Miller: Biggest highlight no doubt was [my] first time up in big leagues, hometown against the Dodgers and [I] got a base hit. Every day living the dream was a highlight. Playing with Hank Aaron was special. Being a ballplayer was the best.

Who was the greatest pitcher you ever faced and what was it like?
Bob Gibson was the best pitcher I faced by far. Koufax was the best around but I never went up there against him. Facing Gibson, simply stated, was overpowering. Painless and quick.

Do you think the records of Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, and Alex Rodriguez should treated differently? How should we view the steroid era?
Steroid era is a shame. I blame both the players and management. Bonds, McGwire I have no respect for [them] as people. Rodriguez doesn't bother me. Records should not be acknowledged.

What have you been up to since your career ended?
Since retiring in ‘74 I enjoyed a wonderful business career in marketing and advertising. I also did radio and TV work and just enjoyed being. I've been married now for 42 years and have two daughters and two granddaughters. I'm retired and writing. I just finished a television pilot idea and a screenplay, my second.

Interview with Former MLBer Norm Miller photo

Tell us a little bit about your book,  To All My Fans From Norm Who ?
My book is about my career. What it took, what I did and how much I loved it.  Lot's of stories all real.  Well received.

Do you have any advice for young athletes trying who want to play in the Bigs?
Young athletes need to get real. Most are told they're great and [they’re] really not. The percentage that make it is so small. But you don't see the effort you should. I've coached kids for years and the decline in the passion and commitment is noticeable.

Who would you rather start your team with Sandy Koufax or Hank Greenberg?
[I] only know Greenberg from stats and reputation. Give me Koufax...unhittable.

You can learn more about Norm Miller by visiting his website www.normwho.com. Also, check out his book.

And let us say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine
For more info check out www.TheGreatRabbino.com. Now part of the Yarbarker Network.

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Angry Birds are taking over the world!!!

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12/21/2010

Angry Birds are taking over the world photo 1

What do Conan O’BrienJustin Bieber, noted author Salmon Rushdie, the current British Prime Minister, David Cameron, a fussy two-year-old, and 50 million people around the world have in common?  They, like me, can’t stop playing Angry Birds, the highly addictive video game developed by Rovio for mobile phones and iPads.

Have you heard of this game?  This year, Angry Birds is undeniably all the rage and it is stealing all of my free time.  The game has become so popular that it has been written about in the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal, and  it is considered by Facebook subscribers the best app of 2010.  Please someone release me from its captive grip.  Not only has Angry Birds been downloaded 50 million times (as I already mentioned) but it is estimated that people around the world spend a collective 200 million hours a day playing this puzzle game as they launch wingless birds from slingshot into flimsy structures to kill the greedy pigs who stole their eggs.  What a waste of (my) precious time!!  Somebody help me!

Some fans have even gone as far as to say that Angry Birds is the new Pacman or Tetris.  I think the game is like Pringles—once you pop you can't stop.  Others have created International Angry Bird’s Day so that gamers can meet other fans and plan Angry Bird Flash Mobs.  (Chicago held its first Meet-Up of this kind two weekends ago at Millennium Park.  As it turned out, I was the only one who showed up—which makes me the most dedicated Angry Birds Fan in the city!!!!)  And a dork.

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Best of all an Israeli comedy show called 'Eretz Nehederet' (A Wonderful Country) has created a hilarious YouTube video that has been viewed over 2.7 million times imagining a peace treaty between the Birds and the Pigs.  Here’s the censored version, minus the fowl language.

   

As a fan of both Angry Birds and Israeli comedy, I might suggest a few additional skit sequel ideas. For example, a Passover Seder scenario with Birds and Pigs.  Everything is going just fine until the leader, a green pig, points to the egg on Seder plate, and the birds goes berserk!  Another idea would be to stage a wedding ceremony between a pig and bird.  When the leader of the ceremony asks if anyone has any objections to this marriage, the door suddenly swings open, and a yellow angry bird objects and the wedding ceremony turns into complete pandemonium with birds begin catapulted everywhere.

There are some like me who think that Angry Birds is one small part of an evil plot to take over the world.  They think that the game has the power to steal our attention from what really matters in life.  Oh, sorry, Grandma, I would love to visit you in the hospital today but I have a species to save!  They think that Angry Birds is a ploy to get our money.  I will pay you anything if you help me clear the next level.  And there are some who think that Angry Birds is taking over our minds.  Did you just see that boomerang bird fly across the street?

I think thoughts like these are nonsense.  You did see that boomerang bird though, right?  I see them everywhere now!!!  The idea of using video games as a means to achieve world domination sounds like something from Pinky and the Brain or from some far off Star Trek: The Next Generation episode but not something that is really happening.  Note to self-remove these references so you can get a date in this town.

And yet, think about it—200 million minutes a day are spent playing this addictive game.  That’s the equivalent of 16 years of human life dedicated each day to what is a mind numbing distraction.  I am just as guilty here.   Perhaps there are consequences at play here that are even worse than the time we lose to playing the game.  I am worried that playing Angry Birds may have a negative effect on our psyches.  Could it be that the game is slowly turning the humans of the world and in particular its Jewish followers into people with bad values?  Again think about it.  Every time we launch a bird into a building, are we not perpetuating a senseless and epic war?  And as Jews are we not taught to advocate peace?  Should revenge be our major motivation in life?  Are we a people who enjoy breaking down and destroying rather than building up and repairing?  And what about this indulgence of blind anger?  Is this who we want to be—Angry Birds?  I am also troubled about sending these kamikaze birds to their certain deaths.  Who do you think brainwashed them into taking such a terrible flight?  Why don’t they wear helmets like the pigs do for protection?  Also, before killing the pigs, have you ever stopped to wonder if ALL the pigs, even the really little ones are guilty?  What’s equally troubling is the gloating and rejoicing the birds engage in each time their enemy is destroyed.  That is so not Jewish!!  We are taught not to rejoice after the downfall of our enemies and yet the birds gleefully cheer at the death of the green pigs.

At the same time, I wonder, where is the game called Happy Birds?  A game that features idealist, caring, loving birds that work for peace—birds that help the pigs to find sensible alternatives to eggs and who are dedicated to building rather than destroying?  Come on!  Would anyone play this game?  Where is the wisdom that says—rather than play this game, we could all pay more attention to our friends and family.  Where is the wisdom that could direct us and guide us toward spending our precious time living out lives of meaning, purpose, connection and holiness—lives that make a difference in the world?  As the song from Rent goes, we only have a limited amount of minutes here, so we need to make the best use of every moment.  It doesn’t mention anything about Angry Birds as far as I can recall.  On a similar note, we addicted gamers might take heed of the advice of the Psalmist: “Teach us to number our days so that we may attain a heart of wisdom.”  That’s how we live our best lives.  That’s how we live most fully.

And I am fully prepared to take my own guidance here, I promise-just as soon as I complete level 15 of the Big Set up!  Really!  It will only take a minute…

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Cheers! Chicago: sharing my mixology wisdom with The Forward

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12/20/2010

A few weeks ago, I was approached by Leah Koenig, a writer from The Jewish Daily Forward, who came to me with the idea of wanting to write a profile about me. At first, I was extremely flattered and humbled, believing that I was unworthy of such an honor.

I really was not sure how to react or what to say if and when she started to interview me. She explained that she wanted to write a profile highlighting the fusion of my Jewish background and values with the mixology wisdom I have gathered over the last four years. She was interested in exploring how my Jewish background and passion for all things Jewish could possibly intersect with a very secular, fast-paced world. Check out my interview here.

L’Chaim and Happy Holidays and 2011 to everyone!

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Dear Miley Cyrus

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12/17/2010

This week you received a lot of publicity for smoking something from a bong. You are trying to get out of your Disney contract. Your photo shoots are getting more and more provocative. Pundits are already putting you in a triple suite at a Malibu rehabilitation center with Lindsay Lohan and Britney Spears.

It’s been a rough year for you. Your parents are getting divorced, you’ve had some boy drama here and there, and you’re struggling to leave Hanna Montana behind and earn real credibility in the entertainment world.

You are at a crossroads. We’ve all been there, but without the fame and fortune that you have acquired in your young life. Seeking pity for being under a microscope is futile, especially in a day and age when people are struggling to feed their families and you are crying about the burden of being a role model to millions of kids.

Your life does not have to be the longest slide from Chutes and Ladders. You have the potential, influence and material wealth to make real contributions to this world, more so than most of us can ever dream of.

Take a moment and look to a couple of people who died this week for some guidance. Neither was sexy or perfect, but both Richard Holbrooke and Elizabeth Edwards made the most of their lives and worked for those who were less fortunate.  While no one expects you to make peace between warring factions or advocate on behalf of breast cancer sufferers, there must be a way that you can start down a path of a more meaningful life and have your picture taken in the middle of a charitable act rather than in an orange prison suit in a California jail.

Elizabeth Edwards posted a quote on her Facebook site before she died. It really stuck with me. I hope that it sticks with you, too:

The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human. But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful.

My New Year’s Resolution is to make a daily effort to make a positive impact in the world. I hope yours will be, too.

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I can has social life?

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12/16/2010

I can has social life photo 1

I’m obsessed with my cat, Morris. He’s really the bee’s knees. I don’t know exactly when it turned from love to obsession, but it was some time between when I bought him a bowtie to wear on fancy occasions and when I got the tune “Here Comes Morris Clause” stuck in my head. But really I can’t help it. Look at that little angel.

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Being obsessed with a pet isn’t something new for me. When I had a horse named L.L. Bean you could frequently hear me singing “I’m a little Bean pot short and stout, here is my saddle and here is my snout.” And when I had a hamster, Penelope, I made calendars strictly dedicated to her, her cuteness, and my love for her cuteness.

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So it was no surprise when this realization of obsession struck me on Saturday night. While at a party I kept being asked, “What’s new?” And all that I found important to tell them was, “Well, I took pictures of my cat for my holiday cards.” I think this is a great topic of discussion, but I kept getting blank stares and turned backs. Ugh. I can has social life? Appears not.

I can has social life photo 4

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Farewell to Grandpa

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12/15/2010

Farewell to Grandpa photo

When I visited Grandpa one afternoon in August, soon after he moved into the nursing home this summer, I walked in and introduced myself as “one of Sol's grandchildren.”  His roommate said, “Oh, one of the 42, huh?”   I laughed and said, “well, 32...but who's counting?”  Grandpa said, “32?  Oh, OK!”  Even if his memory were flawless, you can't blame a 94-year-old guy for making a minor error like that, with so many grandchildren to keep track of.

I'm “number six.”  My earliest memories of Grandpa begin somewhere between the ages of five and 10.  I remember countless visits and parties at Grandma Doris and Grandpa Sol's house in Morton Grove, and the new feat of being able to count that we cousins numbered a total of 10...  The Original 10:  David, Ira, Rachel, Larry, Esther and me, (number 5 and 6, two months apart, right in the middle), Aaron, Jay and my sisters.  This was easy to remember, because whenever we were over, the kitchen was off-limits to kids, while Grandma was cooking so we were always corralled into the basement to play, all together.  Sometimes Grandpa could quell the noise momentarily.  With bribes:  sticks of Doublemint gum.  The basement was filled with tons of things that they were given as gifts, or got while traveling...things that they loved, or at least, lots of treasures of the '70's to occupy the Original 10:  Russian dolls that got smaller and smaller as you opened them; Chinese checkers; a weird wooden triangle game with wooden pins in it, that I still have no idea how you'd play; and someone brought a Battleship game down there.  (Probably one of the older, roughneck boy-cousins.)  The most difficult game, to me, around age 10, was this big bowl of nuts-in-the-shell that someone put down there on the coffee table, with a 2-pronged nutcracker that I could never work.  The cashews, walnuts and almonds would always crush into tiny little pieces, and I could never eat any.  It took years before I got to eat the whole inside of a walnut, in that basement.  To this day, I wonder whose bright idea it was to put that bowl of nuts down there.  (I'm actually inclined to believe it was Grandma, since she was the original nut-cracker in the family.)

And hanging over the sofa in the wood-paneled basement, were five pictures, always there.  Smiling graduation pictures...of the engineer in the good suit and tie...the Nurse...the Teacher, also in suit and tie...the high school cello player-turned-Food Expert...and the girl with pigtails, holding a giant candy sucker in front of her face, from performing in one of her plays, who would become the Occupational Therapist-turned-Businesswoman.  Grandma and Grandpa opened their home and hearts to a foster child to whom we were affectionately introduced as “Auntie Leslie.”  Her class pictures hung there every year, too.

On Passover, at the appropriate time during the Seder, Gramps urged us all to find “the A-fick'-o-men,” for the prize of a quarter, after dinner.

But, Chanukah parties at their house were the stuff of legend...not only because they showcased their endless parade of loving friends, and zillions of siblings on both sides, but, mostly, because of Grandpa's famous latkes!  We were again corralled in the basement, and, this day, once a year, Grandpa disappeared into the kitchen. 

After what seemed like hours of the intoxicating aroma of Grandpa's magic potato latkes wafting through the house, suddenly, great platters of them would appear, with all the fixings.  We were called to eat dinner, hocking Grandpa to reveal the secret ingredient:  “What made his latkes so good?!?”  He just smiled his sly smile, and chuckled, and wouldn't tell...and dumped some more golden potato goodness on our plates.  Then, the entire crowd would retire again to the basement for the main event:  Presents!  We'd try to wait patiently, as each aunt and uncle handed out the precious Chanukah loot... Aunt Sara smoking in the corner, Aunt Rose being...Aunt Rose, joined by Great-uncle George and Aunt Sylvia, Millie and Joe Kaplan, Lee Podgers, Goldie Ettinger, and countless other friends of theirs looking on.  All the action was in the middle of the room, overrun by the Original 10, now ages 5 to 14.  Amid the madness, wrapping paper, and the gold foil from chocolate Chanukah gelt flying everywhere, you'd catch Grandpa quietly rocking in a chair off to the side, his work as Latke Chef done, smiling, laughing, and basking in all that he had created.

He used to play a game with me (probably with others too, but it always seemed like he played it with just me):  At any family gathering, when the phone would ring, and I'd go to answer it, he'd say to me, cryptically, “Tell Jimmy I say hello.  Tell Ron I say hello.”   I was in high school when the name suddenly changed:  “Tell George I say hello!”  I finally realized he was trying to tell me that the President was calling him.  (You can see why it took me so long to get the joke for the first eight, long years...)   Later, in college, I was able to turn the tables.  The phone would ring, and I seized my opportunity:  “Hey Grandpa, tell Bill I say hello!”  And we would laugh.

Senior year, while other classmates went off to Cancun to party over winter break, I visited Grandma and Grandpa, who had retired to Florida.  One day, we sat in their den, chatting.  They asked me what I wanted to do after college.  I told them I was going to work on the radio...that I knew it might be a tough road at times, but that I was going to do it.  Grandma, sitting next to me on the couch, looked me in the eye and said, “Whatever you want to do, we'll support you,” and slapped her hand on the cushion for emphasis.  Grandpa looked over from his chair, and chimed in: “Just do whatever makes you happy, that's all.”  Grandma, always one for the last word, echoed with finality, “See?  That's all.”  That was all.  Grandma and Grandpa said so.  No questions, no doubt, no judgment.  Just unconditional love and support.  In that moment, I knew how those five people in those  pictures on the wall in their old basement came to be as distinguished and successful as they were.  I knew that I could, too; that I could try.  As I left for a quick jog, the door closed behind me, and I could hear Grandma’s trademark affectionate cackle: “…Solllll-yyy!”  and I knew she had found a new project for him to do.  He’s probably hearing it already.

In recent months I visited Grandpa as much as I could at the nursing home.  The cheerful, funny, go-getter, who, for about 92 years couldn't sit still very long, even to read the paper or a book, had been having increasing trouble walking in the last couple of years.  But it was summer, so we sat outside on the patio, him in his wheelchair, me on the bench, and we chatted and people-watched all the residents and staff that came in and out of the front door.  He gave me the low-down on his new digs.  He had me wheel him around, gave me a mini-tour, and we went back to his room.  We continued our conversation as I plopped down on the bed.  Out of the blue, he sighed and said, “I just miss your Grandma.”  (Not that you'd ever doubt it, but I had never heard him say that before.)   Hiding tears, I said, “I do, too.”  With that, a nurse came in to give him some meds, told us it was dinnertime, and he had me wheel him back into the dining room.  Shortly after that, Grandpa's condition began to change.  The next times I visited, all he wanted was for me to make his feet cozy in a cocoon of blankets at the foot of his bed.

While Grandma Doris made her presence known in their old house as the loud, bossy, 'tough-love' one of the pair, as I get older, I've come to view Gramps as the “Man Behind the Curtain.”  With his quiet strength, work ethic, humor, and kindness, he was the beloved husband, father, brother, uncle, friend, and grandfather.  He was a war veteran, taxi driver, bus driver, milkman, candy store manager, among other things, all because he followed his own advice:  He created a huge family and worked tirelessly to nurture it, because he did what made him happy—even if that included being a Cubs fan.  (Also, apparently, with the close friendship and help from several U.S. Presidents.)  Their Original 5, and our Original 10 cousins, turned into 15 cousins, and a continuing legacy of 17 next-generation cousins…his great-grandchildren.  He was the prolific teller of hilarious bad jokes, the consummate patriarch, and he was the Magic Latke-Maker.  It doesn't take much to figure out that Grandpa’s secret ingredient, for latkes and life, was Love.

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When life gives you eggplant

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12/14/2010

When life gives you eggplant photo

Even before my graduation from Michigan State University this past spring, it was clear to me and to those in my graduating class that we would be entering the most difficult job market (save for those poor ’09 grads) in recent years.  With many of my friends planning to move away from Michigan after graduation, I knew I too, would most likely end up a Detroit native living in a foreign land.

When the prospect of moving to Chicago turned into a reality, I discovered I would be embarking on an unexpected journey into the world of Jewish non-profits.  Growing up, I had always wanted to be a part of the family scrap metal business— there’s not a whole lot that beats torches, cranes, trucks, and heavy pieces of metal.  But when the business closed while I was still in high school, my dreams were put on hold.

Growing up a nice Jewish boy who attended Hebrew school and Jewish summer camp with a smile, it was almost inevitable that I’d become a camp counselor.  Although not my first job, it was the most responsibility ever bestowed upon me at the time.  It all took place in a magical environment, full of friends, waterskiing, and s’mores-on-demand.

Before I get too lost reminiscing about my summer camp days, let me tell a slightly different story.  One day after school in 1999, I got home hungry as a hog (not kosher) dog.  I opened the fridge and there in all of its glory was the most wonderful chicken patty I had ever seen.  My mom had picked it up from the butcher shop for some noshing later, but I couldn’t wait till dinner time.  I put that sucker in the microwave and waited to bask in chicken patty wonderland!  At the beep, I brought the food to my throne, took a bite, and spit it out.  Not only was the breading stale as cardboard, but the chicken had a rubbery texture and was a little bit gray.  I quickly threw the rest away.  I found out later that evening that what I thought was a chicken patty was really eggplant parmesan!  At that moment, I permanently removed eggplant from my list of tasty food and downgraded it to “only if I have to survive” status.

Over time, my memory of that incident faded, but my dislike of eggplant stood strong.  Now where was I?  Oh yeah, my days as a camp counselor.  After spending six years as a counselor and supervisor at my Jewish camp, I decided I wanted to surround myself with Jews full-time and took a year off before college to live in Israel.  During that year and into college, I’ve had my tough moments, but I also began to learn many things about my identity as a Jew from East Lansing.  You could say I’ve had my fair share of “eggplant parmesan” moments, like that one time I thought it would be a good idea to take a hike across the Negev during a shitafone (flash flood), but it wasn’t until last year that I realized what I could discover from eggplant.

As I came home from class one snowy afternoon, I walked through the kitchen to see my roommate preparing dinner in a huge aluminum pan, enough for all three of the “roomies.”  As it baked in the oven, I couldn’t wait to take a bite out of whatever it was.  It turns out, I was about to sink my teeth into a big piece of eggplant parmesan!  So I told him The Story, but this time promised him that I would at least try a tiny bite.  And this time, I kind of liked it!

In the words of my roommate the good cook, “nothing tastes good and nothing tastes bad, you decide in your head.”  My expectations for eggplant that day were destroyed when I compared it to the breaded “chicken” patty from my past.  And I think that’s how many moments of life go, you just have to make the best of them.  So, as I start my new life in Chicago, I hope that I will be able to continue appreciating the adventures of life for what they have to offer, even when they taste like eggplant.

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Something Else for Jews on Christmas

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Chop Suey Gets a Makeover
12/13/2010

Something Else for Jews on Christmas photo

Forget the turkey, goose or other roasted items gracing the holiday table. We Jews have our own tradition for festive meals on Christmas; Chinese food! The history of Jews eating Chinese food on Christmas comes from the late 1800’s when Chinese restaurants were typically the only places open on Christmas (many Chinese are Buddhist) and welcomed Jews who were looking for an outing on the Christian holiday. The Chinese restaurants also did not discriminate and allowed Jews to patronize their restaurants. Eating Chinese food was considered sophisticated and many New York Jews would frequent the restaurants eager to try something new and worldly. Eating Chinese food on Christmas was an easy endeavor as most non-Jews were at home enjoying their holiday dinners so reservations at the local Chinese restaurants were easily had. The Chinese do not mix milk and meat, in fact there are no dairy products at all in Chinese cuisine, so something resembling kashrut or “safe treyf “was attainable in the local chop suey establishments. 

While many neighborhood Chinese restaurants are not serving the unique and exotic flavors that tempted Jews years ago, I still crave the Asian delicacies. I am also never one to break with tradition and this year I will be firing up the wok in my home.

Revamped Modern Chop Suey

Chop Suey was once a Chinese dish that was made over in an effort to appeal to both Chinese and Western tastes. Chop suey or shap sui in Cantonese and za sui in Mandarin means assorted pieces. A sort of hash that is bound together with a starchy sauce-chop suey is currently passé. I am on a one-chef campaign to bring it back en vogue. Made properly, chop suey is fairly healthy dish. What is old is new again and chop suey is no exception, so I offer you my chop suey makeover for your Jewish-Christmas dinner.

Essential Sauce No. 1

1 cup chicken stock
1 ounce dried shiitake mushrooms
2 scallions, sliced thinly
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
1 star anise
2 teaspoons spicy Asian chili paste (optional)
¼ cup soy sauce
2 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons corn starch
2 tablespoons cold water

Chop Suey

3 tablespoons canola oil
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
8 ounces Chicken, turkey or beef, sliced thinly
8 ounces Fresh Shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and sliced thinly
4 ounces Oyster or other exotic mushrooms, sliced thinly
4 scallions, sliced thinly
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic, minced
½ cup Snow peas
½ cup Green beans, cut into 2 inch pieces
Canned baby corn, drained and rinsed
Bamboo shoots, drained and rinsed
1 small head of bok choy, chopped
Cilantro leaves and bean sprouts for garnish

1. Bring the chicken stock to a simmer and add the dried shiitake mushrooms, scallions, garlic, ginger and star anise and chili paste. Turn off the heat and allow the mushrooms to soften for 20 minutes.

2. Remove the mushrooms and slice them thinly. Add the mushrooms back to the chicken stock mixture. Add the soy sauce and sugar and bring to a simmer.

3. Whisk the corn starch in a bowl with cold water to make a slurry (thickening agent). Add the slurry to the sauce and allow the mixture to thicken. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

4. Heat a large wok or sauté pan over high heat. Add the canola and sesame oils. Add the chicken or turkey to the pan. Cook stirring frequently until lightly browned and cooked through. Remove the chicken from the pan and set aside. Add the remaining ingredients and stir fry quickly until lightly browned, but still leaving the vegetables crispy. Add back the chicken to the pan and pour some of the Essential Sauce over the stir fry.

5. Serve the chop suey over steamed rice and garnish with bean sprouts and fresh cilantro leaves.

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The tooth fairy

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12/10/2010

The tooth fairy photo

"There is no tooth fairy." This statement caused a kid to cry and resurrected an old disagreement between my husband and me. But before that, we'd had a great day. Our good friends had left to celebrate their 10 year anniversary in the city and we had offered to watch their son for the weekend. The problem started after the Field Museum, after dinner, after the Indiana Jones DVD ended on the car screen, and after a dessert of fudge, ice cream and chocolate covered pretzels with four boys and a baby in the car driving home.

Our friends’ kid asked my son, "What'd you get from the tooth fairy?" He answered, "Three bucks." (That's another story...) One of my other boys said, "The tooth fairy is Dad." And another added, "Yeah. The tooth fairy is our parents." Then to verify, they all said, "Right Mom?" I responded by saying, "I believe in the tooth fairy." They switched teams. "Right Dad?" My engineer husband responded, "There is no tooth fairy. But we don't talk about that to other kids." After my husband kabashed the tooth fairy, I turned to him and whispered, "What about the kid in the back?" He rolled his eyes. "The kid is nine. Nine-year-olds don't believe in the tooth fairy anymore." The usual kid banter of who farted and who was annoying whom resumed and the tooth fairy discussion ended.

On Monday, I received a call from my girlfriend. "Hi. I just want you to know that thanks to you, my son now knows there's no tooth fairy!" Of course this was an uncomfortable beginning to a conversation, only made worse by the fact that I know this friend would rather chew off her own arm than be confrontational. She said her son was playing on the computer and suddenly burst into tears. When she asked him what was wrong, he responded, "Is the tooth fairy real? Annice says she's not!" Well, first of all, as earlier mentioned, I did not in fact say this. I had said the opposite. She then felt she had to tell him the truth. He was completely devastated. And I felt bad. Because I would like to still believe in the tooth fairy as well.

The initial spousal divide began when our oldest lost his first tooth. He asked me, "Is the tooth fairy real?" I relied upon the good old response of, "What do you think?" He said, "Yes! Yes! I think the tooth fairy is real." I then indulged myself with having him tell me what she looked like and what he thought she did with all those teeth. Not too long after this, my son asked my husband if he was the one who put money under his pillow. He said yes. And what about the tooth fairy? NOT REAL. I was really upset when my kid informed me that he no longer believed in the tooth fairy because Dad told him she didn't exist. My husband’s response to my hysteria was to say he doesn't believe in lying, and it's very important to always be truthful—especially with your kids. He rationalized that if you lie about the tooth fairy, maybe your child will decide you're lying about other things. I disagree.

Soon enough, my kids will learn the world in a cruel and unfair place. (Even more cruel and unfair than them being the only kid in their 3rd grade class—besides three girls—that hasn’t been allowed to see Avatar.) They will learn that people die senselessly. They will experience heartbreak. They will hear and read terrible stories about human rights atrocities. And, they will pay taxes. I feel like maintaining a fantasy/story/lore about a fairy sustains a very fragile innocence our children will lose soon enough. I don’t think that because I said I believed in the tooth fairy, that my kids can’t and won’t expect truthfulness from me. So now they know the truth. But you know what else they know? That the “fairy” dust I rub in between their eyes at night helps them have good dreams. And I know this is real because they tell me so.

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Under the knife

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12/09/2010

I’ve been cut twice recently.  Both surgeries were to fix lingering hip and shoulder issues.  I’m talking 7-8 years of discomfort.  I’m not addicted to surgery like some reality television star, or Joan Rivers.  I really tried everything first:

• Rounds of physical therapy,
• Numerous chiropractors,
• Experimentation with acupuncture,
• Massage therapy (think pain not pleasure),

and the list goes on.

It felt like Groundhog Day.  The only upside, I have an unbelievable library of exercises for your hip and shoulder.  You might be wondering, how does a trainer in his 30s have a bad hip and shoulder?

Well the shoulder is easy to explain.  I was working at the JCC in Skokie and we were repainting the locker rooms.  We mailed two letters and had a sign up asking members to remove their lock.  Our requests went unnoticed by a shockingly high percentage of senior clientele.  Weird, right?  With all the locks stuck on the lockers, I helped remove them for about 45 minutes.  Of course I thought, what a great workout!

It took three doctors to figure out that was the repetitive motion that injured my shoulder.  At the time I was single, poor and scared of surgery.  So I signed up for physical therapy and worked the crap out of my legs.  I was leg pressing Mini Coopers (not really but my legs were getting strong).  And then I made the huge mistake (not really) of running.  After a few months of running more than usual—hip pain.  The diagnosis took years for one simple reason—no doctor requested an MRI with dye (MRI Arthrogram).  My takeaway: if you are feeling any pain in the hip or shoulder, push for an MRI with dye.  They inject your joint with a safe amount of fluid that makes it easier to see tears in tight spaces.

When I finally had the MRI it was clear that I had a tear and possibly other damage in my hip.  The cause was congenital, meaning my bones/joints developed that way (it was not from working out too much).  After meeting three surgeons, and consulting/annoying doctor and physical therapist friends, I went with a doctor at Rush.  His approach was in between the optimistic and the pessimistic doctors.  Despite his name sounding like a James Bond villain, Dr. Nho was my guy.

Since my shoulder had been bad longer than the hip, I went for the shoulder surgery first.  Reaching for the backseat, placing the remote next to my bed, and trying to put plates on the top shelf all where annoyingly painful.  The surgery went well.  Since the problem was going on forever I had already seen several doctors and knew Dr. Romeo at Rush would do my surgery whenever it happened.  When I saw his physical therapy protocol, I knew I picked the right guy:

• 8 weeks, throwing from a pitcher’s mound
• 12 weeks, light contact drills, progressing to full contact

No, I did not do either of those exercises but apparently I could have.  The physical therapy went well for the shoulder.  It’s still taking me time to get back complete range of motion and strength, but I’m happy to say I’m much better!  Thanks to my wife and my physical therapist Kristine, the road to recovery was smooth.  I was back at work after only a few days and started personal training people four days after the surgery.  The first few days post surgery are the worst.  I needed my wife to constantly fill this ice machine, help me shower (trust me not sexy) and I had to wear a massive sling with a squeeze ball attached to it.  Sleeping with a sling, brace…it all kind of sucks.

I had a two week hiatus from shoulder therapy ending and my hip therapy beginning.  The three biggest downsides to the hip surgery:

1. Crutches
2. Brace
3. Couch

You think it would be nice sitting on a couch all day, but it sucked.  I was so bored.  I had some visitors, but it was lonely.  It also made me realize once I’m healed, I need to get out of the gym and spend time with some friends.

Television was my only act of gluttony.  Three-hundred channels, and there’s still nothing to watch.  I’m happy to say I didn’t sit on the couch and wolf down buckets of chicken or anything like that.  When you don’t move much, you just don’t get that hungry.  I have no idea how those grossly overweight people stuck to a bed eat so much.  Then again my home nurse (wife) was feeding me healthy meals.  You really need a good wife to get through this.  A combination of pain, helplessness and boredom can make for one crabby patient.

I am now walking without crutches and counting the days for this brace to come off (eight to go!).  If you need a referral for surgeons or physical therapists, shoot me a note.

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Miracles Happen Every Day

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12/08/2010

Miracles Happen Every Day photo

Violet is ready to light the candles while Autumn plays inside the toy basket.

Hanging in our bathroom is a cheesy picture that says “Miracles happen everyday” above a brightly colored flower. It’s a little embarrassing, but the sentiment is nice, so I got over myself and agreed to let Mandi put it up. It has traveled with us since Mandi purchased it for some college apartment at least 10 years ago. Part of me wants to hang a little sign above it that says “this is Mandi’s picture; I think it is cheesy too. Love, Chai.” But that makes me sound like a curmudgeon and I actually agree with the thought. Anyway, all this to say that the idea of miracles reminds me of Chanukah and here we are in the midst of the holiday.

Last year was my most memorable Chanukah ever. My water broke on the first night and two and a half (loooonnnngg) hours later Violet and Autumn were born. It was a miracle on a night celebrating miracles. They were six and a half weeks early and it’s another miracle they waited that long after a bout of preterm labor followed by three weeks of contractions at five minute intervals. But they waited; those are my little fighters.

They survived the NICU, and I survived the NICU, albeit with way more crying than both babies combined. Why doesn’t anyone tell you that once you give birth you will cry more than you ever thought possible? I know I’m not the only one to experience this. Mandi says I’m making up for lost time for being inhuman and rarely crying before. Well, now I cry watching the news. I cry at movie previews when a parent is grieving or a child is sick. I even cry at effing commercials. I don’t know who I am anymore. Except I guess someone who has seen the fragility of human life in my own premature babies. Fortunately I also saw those darlings grow and become strong and come out healthy and beautiful on the other side of that month in the NICU. Even though there are many medical and scientific reasons for their existence and their health, they are still my little miracles and Chanukah will never be the same again.

Growing up my family would light candles and exchange gifts and eat latkes, but as an adult I haven’t really celebrated Chanukah. I only lit candles if I happened to walk by a nice someone from Chabad who was handing out free candles on the corner. But now Chanukah gives me a personal reason to be grateful and I purchased candles for our three menorahs several weeks in advance.

Even if Chanukah doesn’t fall on December 11, it will always be my daughters’ other birthday and another reason to celebrate Violet and Autumn. It will be a chance to reminisce about their birth day while lighting candles and eating fried foods and watching the girls open presents, or at least play with the wrapping paper. Even though we will celebrate the first year of Autumn and Violet this coming Saturday, it seems like we’ve been celebrating all week. Those lucky girls get a whole holiday in addition to their birthday.

I know some people debate the importance of Chanukah, after all it is a pretty minor holiday on a calendar filled with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and Passover and tons of other holidays. There is always a Jewish reason to celebrate. But whatever you think about lasting oil or violent uprising of the underdogs, it seems like a good idea to me to take a moment or say, eight days, to acknowledge the miracles in your everyday life.

This Chanukah I am surprised to find myself all sentimental about things. I guess this year has changed me. I cry at corny commercials. Two little girls call me mama. I can embrace cheesiness (in small doses). This morning when I straightened the flower miracle picture in the bathroom I didn’t cringe, not even in my thoughts. Instead, the corners of my mouth rose just a tiny bit in a smile. I’m looking forward to seeing what miracles the next year will bring.

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My Trip to Poland

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12/07/2010

My Trip to Poland photo 1

When I was young, growing up as a member of a small Jewish community in a rural town, about 45 minutes out of Savannah, GA, my only recollection of the history of Poland was Fort Pulaski and Pulaski, GA, named for Casimir Pulaski, a Polish soldier who served as an American General during the Revolutionary War and died at the Battle of Savannah.

Then, I grew up, moved to Chicago and married into a Polish Jewish family that had emigrated during the 1960s.  My knowledge of Poland was still poor at the time, but the overall feedback I had heard from other Jews was that Poland is terribly anti-Semitic and that there are no Jews left.  My husband is unusual in that he still has family in Poland and has visited before a few times as a child.

I had an opportunity to visit Poland a few weeks ago with a small delegation of Jews from around the country with the Forum for Dialogue Among Nations, a Polish nonprofit with the mission of eradicating anti-Semitism and encouraging Polish-Jewish dialog.  I was struck by how westernized the country is.  It’s been over two decades since Communism fell and it is a different country than one envisions under the Cold War or after WWII and is not much different than visiting France or another central European country.

My Trip to Poland photo 2

The Forum hosted us in an intense week of reviewing Polish-Jewish history, meeting with teens in a small town who are learning about their town’s once thriving Jewish population, touring Auschwitz and introducing us to Jews in Poland.  We quickly learned that there would be no Poland as it is today without the influence of 900 years of Jews.  For most Eastern European Jews, Poland is their place of origin (Poland’s borders often changed, so Russia is often substituted for Poland as a result).

None of the interactions surprised me until we met Jews who lived there.  You will find a few Americans who have chosen to live in Poland and have become leaders in the Polish Jewish community.  I met an Israeli who loves it and would not live anywhere else.  But, more commonly, you might meet a young person in their twenties who discovers their Jewish roots on one or both sides of their families by accident as a teen.  They might ask their grandfather who omitted sharing the information as they were growing up, but confirms it now when asked.  This secretiveness is indicative of the older generation who has had to be silent to survive.  But for today’s upcoming generation, there is an opportunity for openness and conversation that has never existed before.  The question is whether we, as American Jews, are ready for this?

As a Jewish child growing up in the South, I became accustomed to addressing questions that might be considered offensive to some, but demonstrated the need for education to me.  As a member of the Chicago Jewish community, I find that the more of us that live together in the community, the fewer of us often want to take the time to address questions by outsiders.  In many ways, we have become very insular as a result of our growing numbers.

Now, Poland is at a crossroads and we have the chance to support those who are coming back to their ancestral roots and to help a country confronting its history.  After the trip, I felt drawn closer to Israel because the connections between Poland and Israel are so deeply rooted in history and the Diaspora.  I have to admit that I loved visiting Poland and that I came out of it with a sense of optimism, even as I lit a candle at Auschwitz.  I hope that I can share this with my daughter as she confronts her family history.

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A Great Place to Send Some of your Chanukah Gelt!

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12/06/2010

Happy Chanukah, Oy! readers!  This marks my 12th Oy post and first anniversary blogging for Oy!Chicago.  It has been great being an Oy! blogger, a website made possible by the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago.  This post is dedicated to the good folks who fundraise to make possible Oy!Chicago and a whole lot more.

Most people don't realize how much JUF monetary support and JUF funded services can do for them, until they really need it.  When individuals in the community here and abroad are really in need, though, JUF is there in a big way.  I give to JUF most years, and this year I made a point to give more than I had in the past.  I don’t think any buildings are going to be named after me for my contribution, but I did stretch my comfort zone with my donation this year.

It feels good to give and I believe that I am giving for good causes.  I know that JUF support goes to Israel, to disasters like the forest fires near Haifa, and to all types of programs in the Chicago community, from supplying food for those that are hungry to providing counseling for those that need help.  I also believe in taking advantage of the opportunities JUF provides for me as a young professional in Chicago.

The annual Trades, Industries and Professions (TIP) dinners are opportunities to hear great speakers and network with others in my field.  TIP events and Young Leadership Division (YLD) events have helped me to meet people that are relevant for my work.  The Walk with Israel is a chance to support Israel in a big way.  I have walked with JUF several times and got to see the Idan Reichel Project at the 60th year walk a couple of years ago.  This summer, I was lucky enough to staff a Shorashim trip for Birthright Israel, and part of the trip was funded by JUF.

When I worked for one of the Federation agencies, my position, and in fact, most of my department was funded by JUF.  Of course, then it was easy to give to JUF, because ultimately it was supporting my own paycheck.  The longer I worked in the Federation system, though, the more I got to meet a lot of people over at JUF headquarters and I found them to be great people that I could really trust and count on personally and professionally.  Even though I don't count on JUF for a paycheck anymore, my experiences with the different staff members and executives I met have made me a believer in donating to JUF, for their benefit and for the benefit of those they serve.

This is the time of year where a lot of people and a lot of organizations are going to ask you to part with some of your Chanukah gelt to give to the greater good.  I want to encourage you to keep JUF on your list of recipients.  Many Oy! readers out there have given to JUF in the past and continue to give now.  That is awesome and important.  For those of you that have not had the chance to give yet, this year or ever before, consider giving.  It will help make sure you get to read the next Oy! post and a whole lot more…

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Hannukah grinch gets in the holiday spirit

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12/03/2010

Hannukah grinch photo

It’s outrageous to wake up on the morning of December 3, having only had two days of below 30 degree weather and one light dusting of snow, and realize that tonight is already the third night of Hanukkah…craziness, right?!

For most of us, it feels like Hanukkah just snuck right up on us – we’ve only been seeing commercials about Christmas for a month – not the requisite 7+ weeks that we’re used to by Christmas time when Hanukkah usually falls (some of you might remember my Christmas overload frustration).

For me, it’s quite the opposite.  I’ve been talking about Hanukkah on a regular basis nearly daily since August.  Yes – that probably seems odd to most of you, but as a volunteer coordinator at a local Jewish agency, The ARK, Jewish (and some secular) holidays drive my workload…and sometimes drive me crazy.

The ARK runs an incredible program called Chanukah Gift Wishes.  (Sidenote: yes, the I just spelled Hanukkah with the “Ch” – don’t ask me why but while I have always drifted to the one “H”, two “K”s in my personal life, The ARK typically uses the “Ch” spelling, but I just can’t give Hanukkah up…I’m weird.)

Chanukah Gift Wishes is a program where ARK clients and their families fill out wish lists for holiday presents (valued around $35 per gift) and volunteers from the Chicagoland community generously purchase their gifts anonymously so that the recipients can celebrate the holidays in the same dignified manner that us Oy!readers do.

By October 25th, I was already feeling like the Hanukkah Grinch!  It was 10 days past the deadline, and I had dozens of clients turning in forms late.  I had donors turning in forms late.  I was trying my best to accommodate special requests from both parties, juggling over 850 clients and 250 volunteer families, and I just wanted to pull out all my hair!

Fast forward to a month later, making sure that the gifts came in for all 885 clients (final tally!), and I was just beat.  Hanukkah was a few days away, Thanksgiving was upon us, and the thought of lighting a menorah made me want to hide under my desk.

My wonderful husband asked me what I wanted this year for Hanukkah, and I asked him to cancel the holiday – for me and for everyone else!  Um…not an option (duh).

We decided that instead of buy gifts for each other, we would take part in The ARK’s Chanukah Gift Wishes program, so we headed to Target with wish lists in tow, and picked out presents for ARK clients who wouldn’t otherwise receive gifts this year.

As we stood in line at Target with gifts for others filling my cart, my strange Chanukah hatred slowly started to evaporate.  As the trite saying goes, it’s better to give than to receive.  And boy did our community give.

We, along with 270 other families, bought linens and toys, kitchen goods and books, towels and games, DVDs and gift cards to Target, Kohls, Walmart and even the CTA.

Reading words of thanks from an elderly couple who haven’t received gifts in years brought tears to my eyes.  Seeing the faces of parents as they walk out of The ARK with gifts to give their children made my Hanukkah hatred dissipate faster than those cheap candles burn in our menorah 20 minutes after we light them.

Had I been smarter, I would have shared this story with the Oy! community sooner, so you could have taken part in this mitzvah.  I’m lucky that not only did we have 270 families by gifts for ARK clients but dozens of others donated money so we could provide gift cards for clients in our transitional housing shelter and program for mentally ill adults.

The program has ended, but the needs still remain – not for Hanukkah, but for the year-round needs of Jews in need in our community.

To find out how you can get involved and volunteer at The ARK, email rfriedman@arkchicago.org.

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Apartment-Dwelling for Dummies

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12/02/2010

Apartment-Dwelling for Dummies photo

To be fair, this is not a recent picture.

My favorite hashtag on Twitter is #firstworldproblems. On a fundamental level, I am grateful that my most pressing needs don’t include keeping myself warm or being responsible for feeding other mouths in my household. On the level that I am privileged enough to have a Twitter account to complain on, however, I am deeply frustrated by my inability to like anything that I own right now.

You know that feeling. All your furniture is from Craigslist, and you want to stop living like a college student. Your clothes keep winding up on the floor, and none of your outfits satisfy you anymore. My last place was a small one-bedroom, and the place before that a studio. Now I live in a large one-bedroom furnished with the first-apartment wares of a studio, and while I appreciate that minimalist look in other spaces, in my own digs, I would like to not feel like I moved in yesterday. (I confess, there are still boxes lurking in corners. If it’s hidden from view by a bookshelf, does it still count?) The total effect is that somehow I have both too much stuff and not enough. First World Problems-palooza, right?

I might not be in such a knot about this if I wasn’t hopelessly addicted to Apartment Therapy and other decorating blogs. Whenever I see what some ingenious city-dweller has done with a spare 500 square feet and some suitably eccentric knick-knacks, I get pangs of envy. I am a connoisseur of junk. Seriously, you should see what I just cleaned out of my room back home. Why am I then so freaked out about putting a nail in the wall and showing off my oddball treasure on a shelf? (There is an answer to this, but it involves an irrational fear of opening a gigantic crack in the wall because I chose the one spot to hang a picture that will open up the structural integrity of the building like the gaping maw of a kraken.) Why does it take me so long to make decisions? (Go on, ask my friends how long it’s taken me to decide on colors for my walls. Then ask me if I have, in fact, done any painting whatsoever. The answer may not surprise you.) Why does my gorgeous apartment still look like the ink on the lease is waiting to dry?

For a long time, I’ve done a lot of justifying to myself. When I was 18, I went from living in one house my whole life to moving every few months for the next five years. I would never go so far as to call that trauma, but I will say that I have a hard time thinking about how much time I will enjoy in an apartment, versus how much trouble it will be to take it all down and pack it up again. Most people make resolutions in January, but I don’t see why the end of a year isn’t also a fitting time to set some goals. I’m scouting out some places to donate those clothes I’m sick of, and several people have suggested Freecycle as a place to unload that old IKEA furniture. Nowhere is it written that just because I own a thing or inhabit a place, it can’t change.

I’m looking forward to my junk-free future. It’ll take some planning, and some (ulp) investment, but I think in the long run, it’s better to settle in somewhere than to settle for it. Then again, the plan could always go off the rails. The Renegade Holiday Craft Fair is this weekend. Surely a new couch can wait for my bank account to cool off after that…?

#firstworldproblems

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8 Nights of... Debates

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12/01/2010

8 Nights of... Debates photo

First of all…
1) “Chanukah” or “Hanukkah”?
I prefer “Chanukah.” The Hebrew version starts with “ch,” so the English version should reflect that. If you can’t say the “ch” sound, I explain how here. Also, since there are no double letters in the original Hebrew, why should there be in the transliteration?

2) “Menorah” or “Chanukiah”?
A chanukiah is a kind of menorah, the kind used on Chanukah. It has nine flame-holders—  eight because the Chanukah miracle lasted eight days… plus one candle to light the others (a.k.a. the shamash).

The original Menorah was in the Holy Temple; it was the one rededicated and rekindled by Judah the Maccabee and his followers. It has seven flame-holders, for the seven days of the week. We know what this Menorah might have looked like because it is engraved on The Arch of Titus in Rome. It has become a major symbol of the State of Israel, and a sculpted one stands outside the Knesset. It’s also on Israel’s national seal.

3) Oil or candles?
Oil is more historically accurate. It’s also messier and smellier. Especially if children are involved— or even just around— stick with candles. Also, they are more colorful and some kids (and adults) like arranging the candles in patterns.

4) “Latkah” or “Latkee”?
I don’t know why, but Chicagoans have a way of putting an “ee” on the end of many Jewish words. Challah becomes “challee,” Sukkah becomes “Sukee,” tchatckeh becomes “tchatchkee”… even Pesachdik becomes “Pescachdiky.” I’m not originally a Chicagoan; to me, this sounds a bit childish, like “doggie” and “tummy.”

So although I am sure I am going to get a lot of flack for this from actual Chicagoans, I have to come down on the side of “latkah.” For what it’s worth, I have the great Jewish philosopher Andy Kaufman on my side.

5) Sour cream or applesauce?
On the topic of latkes, I am an applesauce fan. I do not knock sour cream users, although I admit befuddlement over such dairy products as sour cream and yogurt. Their point seems to be: “Oh gee, this milk went bad… but I think we can still use it!”

When I was a kid, I ate my latkes with ketchup. Now, now… a latke is basically a flat French fry. My sister ate her latkes with mayonnaise, the way the Belgians and Dutch eat French fries.

And I never ordered it, but a restaurant in my hometown offered a corned beef sandwich… with latkes as the “bread.” I think it came with a side order of defibrillator.

6) “Dreidel” or “sivivon”?
There are two ways of looking at this. One has to do with the person holding this toy top. An Israeli will call it a “sivivon,” from the Hebrew word for “around.” Most of the rest of us Diaspora types will call it a “dreidel,” from the German/Yiddish word for “spin.”

The other way is to look at the top itself. If the last letter is a “ shin ,” it’s a dreidel. That letter stands for “shum,” Hebrew for “there,” making the whole dreidel read “A great miracle happened there”… in Israel, not here.

But the Israeli version reflects the fact that the miracle did in fact happen in Israel. So the sentence represented is “A great miracle happened here.” The Hebrew word for “here” is “poh,” the initial of which is a pey. If it has a pey, I’d call it a sivivon.

7) Maccabees or Hasmoneans?
The Hasmoneans were a prominent family at the time. Matisyahu (the original one, not the rapper)— a.k.a. Mattathias— was the patriarch, and his open defiance of religious intolerance started the revolt.

Judah was one of his sons; his nickname was “Maccabee,” meaning “Hammer” (the original one, not the rapper.) Around him, Judah gathered his fellow Hasmonean brothers, and they called their guerilla army The Maccabees after their leader.

8) Syrians or Greeks?
Who did the Jewish army fight and defeat, anyway? Well, they were from the land northeast of today’s Israel; a current map would call that area “Syria.”

But (to oversimplify) that territory was then part of the larger Greek empire. The Greeks were running things, and their goal was to Hellenize the hell out of everybody, Jews included.

So yes, the attacks came from “Syria.” But the ideological fight— the “culture war” or “clash of civilizations” into today’s lingo— was between Jewish and Hellenist worldviews. Even when the Maccabees didn’t fight actual Greeks, they were fighting Greece and the paganism it pushed.

Setting all differences aside… best wishes for a holiday that is both warm and happy!

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Oy! Where do I begin?

 Permanent link
11/30/2010

I used to think even the most horrific dates were at least worth the story. Perhaps it’s the writer in me, but I always loved a good, “terrible” story I could write home about—or rather, recall with tears and/or laughter over the telephone with my friends. I’ve begun to grow weary of the bad dates with the funny stories—but I’ll admit that I haven’t completely lost my sense of humor.

I recently went on a tragic date that can best be summarized by a timely (and thus somewhat eerie) Onion article, titled “Horrified Man Looks On Powerlessly As He Ruins Date.” Just as in the article, the date began smoothly, and soon spiraled down a drain so deep, the couple was beyond life preservers.

In said Onion article, the fictitious gentleman on the date named Kevin Parker can’t help himself but to discuss one awkward topic after another for long periods of time, including ramblings about getting his oil changed and paying too much; his parents’ divorcing and his own former bed-wetting troubles, as well as moping about his ex-girlfriend.

“Summoning his strength for one last heroic effort, Parker said he began talking about his dog, found himself unable to discuss anything beyond how the pet had been his only comfort during a break-up last year, and then proceeded to spend five minutes explaining how he was ‘totally over’ his ex-girlfriend now.

“‘There was this loud, disturbing noise, and I realized it was my own voice,’ Parker said. ‘I remember looking around the room thinking, 'For God's sake, somebody do something!' Then I just sort of went numb for a few minutes there as I watched myself talk about my laundry schedule.’”

I recently found myself on a date with a “Parker” who could not stop talking about very awkward subject matters at length. Except, I was the one thinking, “For God’s sake, somebody do something!” or “Come on now, where are hidden cameras? Are they behind the bar?”

We met for casual drinks and the date started on a high note. We joked about politics, the weird people next to us at the bar and other light topics. Conversation flowed, we weren’t drinking heavily to endure the date (yet) and there were a few laughs in between. About 30 minutes in, my “Parker” couldn’t help himself.

He went into a luxurious discussion about his ex-girlfriend. He described her family problems, he mentioned twice how good the sex was with her and how charismatic a person he was with her. Yes, he used the word, “charismatic.”

I sat listening to this nonsense and wondered, “Do I have ‘therapist’ written on my forehead?”

And then I thought, “Bartender?”

And then, “Taxi?”

Somewhere in between his ramblings about where he’d met her and how he’d gone wrong, I went to my happy place and started thinking about Jewess Patti Stanger of the show The Millionaire Matchmaker. Despite her rough demeanor, I love the woman. Stanger gives a pretty spectacular guide of what not to do on the first date: Don’t mention the ex; Don’t discuss God or politics; Don’t use them for therapy; Don’t get wasted; Don’t bring up marriage or kids; Don’t talk dirty; Don’t be rude. My “Parker” broke nearly all of her rules.

I drifted between half-amusement and disdain for this guy until something he said caught my attention. He talked about how his girlfriend became a different person after they’d started dating and, in some ways, he didn’t recognize her anymore. With sadness in his eyes, he described going out with friends of hers and said she didn’t appear to interact with them as they expected. He said they noted that she laughed less.

Because there aren’t enough pop culture references in here, I thought I’d throw in a couple more. After polling friends on Facebook and tasking them to Google search with me extensively, we could not place the exact episode, but there was an episode of Grey’s Anatomy (probably in season 5), in which Meredith Grey talks about the fear of chipping away at herself when in a relationship, to the point where she might barely recognize her single self anymore. She describes it as making herself fit as one half of a whole (couple). (Sounds like every episode—right? Well, I am referring to a specific one. Ten points to whoever can pinpoint the right episode!)

I also recalled the pair of series finale episodes in Sex and the City, when Carrie symbolically loses her “Carrie” necklace in the midst of settling into a bad relationship with Aleksandr Petrovsky in Paris. She, too, is losing her identity.

By no means, do I think this tendency to lose oneself in a relationship is reserved for women. However, it appears to be a recurring theme among heroines in the modern TV mellow-drama-comedy. One could argue it’s an old theme. Interestingly, however, it troubles these modern female characters in ways that perhaps, it didn’t 10, 20 or 30 years ago.

I dated a guy a while back who was gluten-intolerant and all I wanted to do when I was around him was eat bread. Perhaps, I too, have concerns about morphing too much for my man.

Back to my “Parker:” He spoke in earnest about how he’d lost the girl he once knew, somewhere in the midst of the relationship. I was touched and a bit saddened for the both of them.

In some ways I share TV character Meredith Grey’s belief that we shift our shape, to fit together with that other person—our missing piece. It’s inevitable. We take on a variation of ourselves even in our friendships.

I discussed this idea with a friend who pointed out that the danger perhaps, arises when we change or even mute ourselves to fit with that significant other. Ideally, she said, we hope to be with someone in which you bring out the best versions of each other. I agree with her theory.

Part of the heartache with break-ups, too, is when we can’t be the person we were trying to be for that new person. We break up, and the relationship leaves us somewhat altered and bewildered versions of ourselves never to completely return to our original states. Some might call this altered state our “baggage” we carry.

Are we meant to return to who we once were? Are we better or worse for those changes?

Each person we meet impacts us and changes us, but hopefully not at the expense of losing ourselves.

Another wise friend of mine pointed out that maybe a nightmare date like the one I had with my “Parker” serves as reminder that when we get into new relationships—ones that start with healthy first dates—that we check in with ourselves once in a while and make sure we still recognize ourselves in the mirror.

If nothing else, I say, know when you’ve met a “Parker” and hail that taxi as quickly as you can.

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LEADS

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11/29/2010

Looking for friends in Jewish places photo

When I first started writing about this search in online essays, between the rageful comments from the angry mob came a number of suggestions that I should try religious institutions to find my next best friend. Plenty of people said they made their closest friends in church group. A coworker tells me she met her besties at bible study. A friend of my mother-in-law said that when she first moved to Boston, she found new friends as soon as she joined a temple.

I don’t consider myself especially religious. Though I was raised Jewish, I can’t remember the last time I entered a temple for something other than a wedding or a funeral. But religion is one of the great uniting forces in history, so for me to ignore it altogether during this quest would be a glaring omission.

This Thursday I will attend my first LEADS (Leadership Education and Development Series) meeting, part of the Jewish United Fund’s Young Leadership Division.

I have mixed feelings about it. There’s a part of me that feels like I’m joining under false pretenses. Doesn’t signing up for such a group imply that I’m especially religious? That maybe I’ve celebrated Shabbat more recently than approximately twenty years ago? But then, I’m sure that I’m just the kind of person the group is interested in recruiting. Who knows? After eight weeks I could find a new home in this community. And I was told quite clearly that you don’t need to be ultra-religious. After all, it’s billed as “an introductory exploration of the Jewish community and contemporary issues.” Also, each meeting culminates in a happy hour at a local bar. That sounds pretty universal.

Like every gathering I sign up for (improvvolunteeringMeetUpGrub With Us) my ultimate goal is to leave the group with at least one new potential BFF to ask out. I’m hoping this won’t be too hard, as I’ve become immune to the fear of hitting on potential BFFs (except for at Starbucks, where I’ve been working a lot lately and can’t bring myself to bother any of the nice looking ladies to see if they want to be my best friend forever). So why am I more nervous about this group than most? Partly because I’m not sure what to expect, but also because I’m worried I’m going in at a disadvantage.

One of the results of my not being religious is not knowing very much about my religion, despite the early years of Hebrew School and bat mitzvah studying. When I started my improv class, we were all beginners. None of us knew what we were doing, so the playing field was level. Here, I figure the others who’ve signed up will be more informed and have stronger opinions than I. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just don’t want to be the group laughingstock.

But that’s what this search is about. Going outside the comfort zone and all that good stuff. So Thursday I’ll show up to my LEADS group, on the prowl as usual. Then, of course, I’ll report back.

….

And we’re back. Six weeks later. When I first submitted this blog post, the Oy! Editors asked that I wait to post it until I had some LEADS feedback, so here it goes.

I am not the group laughingstock…except when we play charades and I part my hair down the middle and try to look serious to represent Moses. My group is a mixture of all types of Jews. From me, the almost borderline non-practicer, to Sarah*, the not-so-religious but works in a Jewish day school, to Jenna* the uber-Jew. What brought us together is not so much our religion as our desire to meet new people.

LEADS hasn’t changed any of my religious beliefs per say, but that isn’t its intention. It has introduced me to a Jewish community, which is its goal, and has connected me with a few friends who will be around for a while. Which was my goal.

Everybody wins.

*Names changed to protect identity.

The LEADS program is an 8 session series that runs 3 times a year. The program offers an introductory exploration of the Jewish community and contemporary issues in a relaxed social setting. Groups are formed in several areas of the city and separated by age first and then location. Sessions typically begin at 7:30 p.m., though there will be some variance. Following most of the sessions, groups will meet all together at a bar for a happy hour.  The next session of LEADS will begin this winter/spring.  If you are interested, please email yld@juf.org. LEADS is a great place to get started in YLD!

Read more  about Oy! blogger Rachel’s quest to meet her new BFF.

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2010-2011 NCAA Basketball preseason All-TGR team

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11/23/2010

With superstars Jon Scheyer and Slyven Landesberg on to bigger and better things, this year we look to some unknowns in NCAA basketball. Last year's senior class was impressive. So who is going to step up and be our next hope at a Jewish NBA star? Well, this year’s All-TGR team does not have a pro prospect for next year. But, it has plenty of talent and is led by a budding star.

Meet the All-TGR team

Dane Diliegro – TGR was a fan of him last year too. Why? Because he produces. He isn't too flashy and might not be an NBA prospect but the 6'9 center can use his body. He pulled down eight boards a game while scoring almost nine. Solid numbers for a solid player.

Zach Rosen – One could easily make the claim that Rosen should be the pre-season player of the year. The Penn guard does a little bit of everything. He dished out 4.4 assists and grabbed 3.3 boards last season. But what he does best is score. He dropped 17.7 points a game last year. Rosen could be the Ivy League MVP.

Jared Mintz – Mintz surprised a lot of people last season. He finished with 5.7 boards and 14.1 points a game last year. He is not a big time program, but his numbers are solid and should only improve.

Bryan Cohen – Cohen plays at Bucknell which hasn't made any noise since 2005. His eight points-per-game is nothing too amazing, but he is only going to be a junior and is returning as the Patriot League Defensive Player of the Year. Defense wins championships....or so they say.

Michael Atwater – While he hasn't played a game in college basketball yet, this power forward for ASU has a big upside. He was ranked in the top 300 of college basketball recruits. He is entering a major program. He moves well and can board.

Honorable mentions: Bryan Cohen (Bucknell), Josh Elbaum (Vermont), and Chris Wroblewski (Cornell).

Preseason Player of the Year

Jake Cohen – Yes, Rosen scored more points a game. But Cohen's 13.3 points-per-game and 5.11 rebounds-per-game were solid. And he had an awesome offseason. He got rave reviews overseas. He played for the Israel Under 20 team and dominated Europe. I think the style of play overseas will help this skilled big man. He is young, raw, and only getting better. He is our best shot at another NBA player for a little while.

Good luck to all the players this year. For a more complete list check out TGR’s NCAA page.

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine
For more check out www.TheGreatRabbino.com

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A Thanksgiving Survival Guide

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11/22/2010

The #1 killer of relationships?  In my opinion, the answer is holidays.  Let’s face it; bringing home your significant other can be very stressful.  Even in the most “normal” (and I use normal here loosely) families, there is always at least one family member who will bring up the most painfully embarrassing moments in your life in front of your s.o., or ask the most inappropriately personal questions.

But do not despair.  With a little humor, a little preparation, and a LOT of alcohol (but not too much of course—you don’t want to make a complete ass of yourself), you CAN make it through the holiday.  And if you are lucky, you’ll have something to laugh about with your s.o. 10 years from now.

Situation #1: You are going to your boyfriend’s house for the holiday, and his/her mother isn’t exactly your biggest fan.

Survival technique: Build an alliance.  Spend your time winning the other family members over with your charm and wit—ideally family members who later contradict her negative opinion of you. 

(On a side note: if your boyfriend doesn’t have a spine where his mother is concerned, you need to do some serious thinking.)

Situation #2: You are bringing your vegetarian boyfriend to your house for Thanksgiving—and tofurkey is definitely NOT on the menu.

Survival technique: Bring provisions.  Make and bring vegetarian side dishes that your entire family can eat—e.g., stuffing without giblets.  Explain to your boyfriend ahead of time that Thanksgiving isn’t the time or place to explain why he is revolted by the turkey carcass on the table.  On the flip side, it would be appropriate to warn your parents in advance that this might be a good time to send the deer head above the mantel out for a good cleaning.

Situation #3: Your “crazy Aunt Sadie” just asked your new boyfriend/girlfriend when you were getting married—pointing out that you certainly aren’t getting younger.

Survival technique: Strike back.  Chances are, this isn’t the first time Aunt Sadie has put you on the spot.  The moment you walk in the door, you should be on the ready with pre-rehearsed retorts designed to shut Aunt Sadie up.  For example, this is the perfect time to inquire how Aunt Sadie’s recent mole-removal surgery went.  She’ll get the picture.  Don’t worry about hurt feelings, this one is war.

Situation #4: Your well-meaning-but-inappropriate Uncle Sonny just pulled your significant other aside and asked him/her about his “intentions.”  

Survival technique: Rescue and recovery.  You need to get your s.o. out of there.  Now.  Enlist backup in the form of your aunt or other family members who know just what might be going down.  As for damage control, don’t explain or elaborate, just say to your sweetie, “Sorry for my crazy family.  I’ll promise I’ll make it up to you later.”  That way, he/she will be thinking about OTHER things on your way home.

Situation #5: You and your non-Jewish significant other are getting serious, and your “I-don’t-care-who-you-marry-so-long-as-he/she’s-Jewish-Bubbe” just asked you both how you intend to raise the children.  And you don’t have an answer to that question yet—or at least, not one she might want to hear.

Survival technique: Temporary deflection.  Try the best you can to change the topic – but be warned, if Bubbe really wants an answer right now, you are in a very tight spot.  You can try humor: “the best we can—of course!  Oh, did you use cinnamon in this pie?” or flattery “however you did – you are such a great mother and grandmother.  By the way, can I get your kugel recipe?”

But hell hath no fury like a Bubbe on a mission.  In reality, what you will really need to do is run like hell, because Thanksgiving probably isn’t the best time to tell Bubbe you will be celebrating Christmas with his family this year.

Situation #6: Your recently-divorced cousin just gave your commitment-phobic boyfriend an earful about the perils of marriage and fatherhood.

Survival technique: Counter couple.  This would be the perfect time to ask to steal your s.o. away and introduce him to your happily married cousins.  Later, you can say: “Hey, sorry you got dumped on.  He’s going through a rough time right now; it’s really cool of you to have listened.  And aren’t Jack and Jill great together? ”

Situation #7: You just left dinner, and feel the need to discuss the status of your relationship with your significant other.

Survival technique: Wait a couple of days.  Sure, you two will need to eventually discuss marriage, kids, religion, and other “values.”  But don’t bring up engagement just because your cousin was flashing her beautiful new ring, or because some family members turned up the volume on your biological clock.  Be sure any conversation you feel you need to have about your “future” is motivated not by the desires of others, but the desires of your own heart, when you are good and ready to deal with them.

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Synagogues 2.0

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11/19/2010

As a former Hebrew school teacher myself, it seems to me that the survival of the Jewish community is dependent on synagogues modernizing and incorporating technology into the study of Hebrew and Jewish Studies.

While in the past synagogues were competing for time with soccer practice and ballet lessons, they now have a more formidable and more permanent “enemy” in the internet.  However, this “enemy” must be acknowledged and embraced to keep Hebrew school education relevant and worthwhile.

Many synagogues are slow to adapt technology because many of the educators are unfamiliar with it. It’s understandable, considering that the average 11-year-old can send 10 texts by the time a teacher gets through writing the Hebrew Alphabet on a white board. And these days, synagogues are strapped for cash and may not have the resources to invest in new technologies.

However, to stay relevant, I believe synagogues must find a way to transform the way they teach, closing the ever-growing gap between student and educator.

This doesn’t mean that teachers are replaceable. You can’t mechanize relationships and you can’t replace charisma and good examples. However, what can be changed is how people teach.

One basic example is learning Hebrew. There are numerous programs that can assist in language acquisition to help students become Hebrew speakers, not just Hebrew readers. New programs make it possible for bar and bat mitzvah students to scroll over a word and hear the trope so the learner acquires the skill to read any Torah portion and not just memorize their own. Eventually, there could be online synagogues where students can sign up for Hebrew school from the comfort of their home.

Additionally, technology can help teach Jewish values and tradition. For example, studying the Holocaust from a text is less impactful than hearing the stories of survivors online through the Yad V’shem website.

To maintain and grow community, a synagogue must know how to incorporate learning through technology. And the argument that the Torah is thousands of years old and the web is only 20 does not hold water. Judaism has survived because it has adapted to modern concerns and needs. The necessity of incorporating technology is no different than the development of local synagogues because Jews were far away from the Temple, or to the writing down of the oral law so it would be codified.

Although this task is important, it isn’t an easy one. It is going to take forward-thinking congregants and lay leaders to prioritize the acquisition and use of new technologies and Rabbis and teachers to be willing to be trained in them. I am one of those teachers—are you?

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Counting our blessings

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11/18/2010

Cindy Sher photo 2

My family rang in the Jewish new year at a friend’s home. After we chanted the blessings and before we sat down to eat our meal, the host asked each of the guests to take turns saying what we were most thankful for in the past year.

Giving thanks is something we don’t do enough. We spend a lot of time complaining over the course of the year—and often rightfully so—with our over-scheduled lives, a bad economy, and hatred and tragedy plaguing the world, often specifically targeting the Jewish people.  

Sometimes the bad overshadows the overwhelming good in our lives. But now, with Thanksgiving just around the corner, it’s an ideal time to stop and count our blessings.

Giving thanks is core to Judaism. In fact, it’s the first thing we’re instructed to do each morning before we get out of bed. The very first prayer that Jews recite upon waking is Modeh Ani, “I give thanks,” thanking God for protection.

Self-help author Melody Beattie emphasizes the importance and the creativity of being grateful. “Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough and more,” she said. “It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”

I am thankful for many blessings in my life. To name a few:

I’m grateful for being an American Jewish woman, endowed with the freedom to be anything in life that I want to be, no matter my religion or gender. 

I’m thankful to my parents for raising me in a loving, compassionate, and haimish Jewish home and for serving as models of love to emulate in my own life.

I’m blessed to have had three of my grandparents live to see me grow up. Throughout my childhood, I would weave together the fabric of my family history as they’d transmit to me bits and pieces of our shared story, over a game of gin rummy or while filling in a crossword puzzle with me. Three Passovers ago, my maternal grandmother died at the advanced age of 93; but I still visit my father’s parents in Long Island often.

I’m thankful for attending excellent schools in a safe learning environment with extraordinary teachers, who nourished my potential. This fall, I watched the new documentary film Waiting for Superman, which examines the failures of American public education, following five students through the fraught school system. The students were forced to leave their education to fate, a lottery dictating whether they would attend the higher-quality charter school in their area. Witnessing their struggle, I realized how much I’d taken my own education for granted.

And I’m thankful for being a member of a committed, caring, and vibrant Jewish community here in Chicago. Our community strives to repair the world each day, lending a hand to Jews and non-Jews in the Chicago area and to Jews in need around the world.

I hope you’ll count the blessings in your own life—not just on Thanksgiving—but every morning before you get out of bed.

What are you most thankful for this year? Comment below:

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Scavenger Extraordinaire

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11/17/2010

Last Saturday, I competed with my friends in our third annual Scavenger Hunt Day. Every year, two people from our group make up a list, we form teams of 3-5 people, and then become far too competitive.

Scavenger Hunt Day is seriously the most fun day of the year. If you can get enough people to participate, I really recommend you organize one for your friends. We always meet at Keenan O’Reilly’s, affectionately known to us as, “Dad’s Basement” beforehand so we can drink some Bloody Marys, get the scavenger hunt lists, clarify questions with the judges, and talk trash to the other teams. Most everything on the list is something you have to get a photo of, and there are a few that you have to bring back with you.

The rules:
• Your camera’s memory card has to be empty before the hunt begins and only one camera can be used for your team.
• Your team must stay together for the entire hunt. No splitting up.
• You can only use public transportation.
• You have 3 hours to hunt. It begins at 2:15. At 5:15 you have to take a photo of a public clock displaying the time.
• Team must be back at Dad’s by 5:45 or you’re disqualified.

A sampling from the list:
• Celebrity look-a-likes
• Dance with a stranger
• High five a cop

Scavenger Extraordinaire photo 2

• Graffiti
• Do exactly what a sign says
• Team jumping in the air, all feet must be off the ground

Scavenger Extraordinaire photo 1

• Things that begin with Q
• Ginger kids
• Entire team in a bathroom stall
• Ugg boots, extra points if paired with a North Face
• Playing an instrument
• Team member on sports equipment
• Round of shots, must have receipt as proof, extra points if it’s a round of beers
• Two team members switch clothes
• Team member comes back to the Dad’s wearing edible underwear
• Bring back the weirdest thing you can find, weirdest out of every team gets extra points (the winner of this was “Team Ask Us How To Scare Bees” by bringing back a bag of human hair…)

My team, “Team You’re Out For A Walk Then BAM We F**k Your S**t,” won. Duh. In the end it came down to a 3-point difference between first and second place. What if we hadn’t seen that old man at a diner who looked like “Old Man” Marley from Home Alone? We could’ve lost the whole thing.

Scavenger Extraordinaire photo 3

Every person who plays is asked to make a donation to a charity the winning team picks. Run around the city and take shots for charity? Will do. We also won this sweet blow up doll. Saturday was truly terrific. BAM!

Scavenger Extraordinaire photo 5

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For a deeper connection to spirituality, click here…

 Permanent link
11/16/2010

For a deeper connection to spirituality, click here photo

One of the joys of being a rabbi is the opportunity to sit and talk with people who come to me ready to take charge of their religious and spiritual lives.  They are people who want to know more about Judaism and they are seekers searching for meaning, purpose, God, community and an increased sense of connectedness.  Each seeker comes to me with a story.  Sometimes a spiritual journey is initiated after a person experiences a death of someone close, or an illness, a loss of a job or some other hardship.  Other times a person tells me that he or she has been on a spiritual journey for years and has tried just about everything, but for whatever reason, nothing, so far, has really ever clicked.  They come hoping that Judaism will have answers to their many questions.  What they often find through study and practice are both answers to their existing questions as well as new and even more challenging questions to consider.

Hearing a person’s story helps me to suggest a course of action.  In some cases, a person looking for meaning and purpose is not looking for a deeper study of Judaism at all, but rather is searching for pastoral or secular counseling, and the warmth and comfort offered by a deeper connection to God and a caring community.  In cases such as these, I have a completely different conversation than I would with someone who is looking to learn more about Judaism.

But for those who are looking to deepen their connection to Judaism, I then ask what about Judaism is appealing to them and I ask what are they interested in learning and doing?  And then I ask them to imagine looking at their lives down the road—once they’ve found what they are looking for—what would their lives look like?  From there, I try to cater an individualized study and action program that includes suggestions for classes to take, worship services, lectures, and Jewish programs to attend, people to meet, organizations to join, social action projects to try, music to hear, books to read, and movies to see.  (BTW: One book I totally recommend is God Was Not in the Fire by Daniel Gordis).

Sometimes when I present such a list of activities the person looks at me like I am crazy.  Who these days, has time to do all that?  It is usually at this point that I ask if the person has an iPod, iPad, iTouch, or iPhone, or for that matter a computer with internet.  As the answer these days is increasingly “yes,” I then give suggestions of some of my favorite resources that I downloaded on my iPod which have informed and inspired my own spiritual journey.

Since you are reading this now, I would be happy to share with you some of my suggestions.  Though please note these suggestions do not replace the personalized conversations and the guidance you would get from a rabbi or other spiritual advisor.  I would be happy to meet with you, if you don’t have one already!

This being said, here are a few of my favorites findings on iTunes as well as Jewish books I have downloaded from www.audible.com:
 
iTunes Podcasts:  Go to iTunes and in the search, type in the following names, sign up for their free podcasts, and hit “get all” for all of the episodes or select from a list the ones that sound most interesting to you.

Rabbi David Wolpe:  Recognized by Newsweek as one of the most influential Rabbis in the country, his sermons are among the best I have ever heard.

Being:  A podcast recording of the weekly NPR show “Being.”  It was formally called “Speaking of Faith.”  It is so good!!  A few of my favorite episodes are the interviews with Dr. Naomi Remen (11/26/2008, 7/29.2010) Days of Awe (9/2/2010), Eli Wiesel (7/13/2006) and Chief Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks (11/11/2010), see also: http://www.chiefrabbi.org/ReadArtical.aspx?id=1552.  SO GOOD!!

Pardes from Jerusalem:  A weekly lecture on the Torah portion of the week, taught by the various brilliant scholars of that incredible learning center.

92nd Street Y:  Recorded interviews and conversations with some of the greatest thinkers and entertainers of our day.

Union of Reform JudaismTen Minutes of Torah.  This is not found on iTunes, but can be downloaded onto an mp3 player: http://media.urj.org/torah/hashavua.mp3 The content is excellent and worth listening to, however I think the narrator is the same robo-woman who is featured on my car’s GPS!

www.audible.com :  This is a clearinghouse for audio books that can be downloaded onto your iPod.  It requires a subscription, but I think it is totally worth it.  A few of the many Jewish-themed books I have really liked are:   The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, As a Driven Leaf by Milton Steinberg, People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks, Eyes Remade for Wonder by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, The Lord Is My Shepherd: The Healing Wisdom of the Twenty-Third Psalm by Harold Kushner, and The year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs.

Well, I hope this list is helpful.  Of course, it is just a start.  The opportunities to explore and experience Judaism are limitless and Jewish study is meant to be a lifelong endeavor.  Please feel free to tell me which teachings you liked most and if you know of other examples of great downloadable learning, please share!

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Talking Turkey

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The first ever kosher turkey talk
11/15/2010

Talking Turkey photo

I love Thanksgiving. It is the most American of all holidays. As a Jew, I especially love the holiday—it’s the only time where I can eat a big fancy dinner, pile into the car and go visit friends or just drive around and look at the holiday lights. I can run to the store and pick up forgotten items and I can use the internet to check out pie recipes. On Jewish holidays, this would not be possible. Thanksgiving levels the playing field for Jews and makes you feel just like every other American.

We have a ritual in our house on Thanksgiving. I get up early, brew a huge pot of coffee, pull out the BIRD to warm it up to room temperature and cozy up on the couch and watch the Macy’s Day Thanksgiving parade. I love the excitement, the floats, the marching bands and the whole hoopla.

When I had my restaurant in New York I watched the floats being inflated at 2am in Central Park. It was amazing. I also had the thrill of watching the parade right there in Columbus Circle. It was great.

What I love the most are the flashes to the Butterball Turkey hotline room. There, turkey experts are gathered around phones excited and waiting to answer home cooks turkey challenges. I can see the intensity in the faces as they struggle to land the plane over the phone.

Turkey Talk is important. Most folks only cook a whole turkey once a year. A whole turkey can be a vexing thing. It is a big bird and it doesn’t exactly tell you when it is done, or to stuff or not to stuff, or how much meat per person. I remember, as a child, my father pulling out the electric knife and hacking at the bird. Maybe that’s why I cook for living?

This year Empire Poultry has joined forces with the ladies at Koshereye.com and myself to bring you KOSHER TURKEY TALK online. Finally—my childhood fantasy come true. Please contact KosherEye with your turkey questions and check out the festive recipes that I have written just for you.

Here’s some more info about Kosher Turkey Talk!:

Let’s talk kosher turkey—finally! For the first time ever, kosher consumers will have a Thanksgiving resource especially for them! Starting the first week of November, through November 22,  www.koshereye.com will provide advice, tips, assistance and recipes to help kosher Americans prepare a spectacular and kosher Thanksgiving meal for their families.

KosherEye.com is partnering with the knowledgeable staff at Empire Kosher Poultry and the renowned author, Chef Laura Frankel. Now kosher consumers will find a useful online resource especially for them on how to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner. These kosher turkey experts will be available to answer online turkey talk questions. And, as a special holiday bonus, consumers may enter the Empire/KosherEye random giveaway for a free kosher turkey delivered directly to them! (10 will be given away) To enter, consumers just complete the sentence…”I am thankful for _______” and submit to  www.koshereye.com .

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Cheers! Chicago: Gobble Gobble! Edition

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11/12/2010

Cheers! Chicago: Gobble Gobble! Edition photo

As the weather outside changes from warm and sunny to brisk and cool, autumn also ushers in a feeling of warmth and coziness. Now, while some people cringe at the feeling of that cold Chicago wind whipping at you from all sides, I look forward to that feeling. The colder it is, the happier I seem to be. Whether it’s super strong winds or endless snowstorms, I become absolutely enraptured with the terrestrial orchestra that is autumn and winter weather. The changing of the colors of the leaves are awe-inspiring and show that even in the cold and barren weather there are some things that remain and even become more beautiful and breathtaking than before. That is why I look forward to the fall season each and every year.

As we near Thanksgiving, I can’t help but think about all of the wonderful things that come with it: turkey and stuffing, hot apple cider, and family. Now, while this is not a Jewish holiday, I think there are still several themes to take away from this holiday of thanks and of giving. For me, Thanksgiving reinforces the everlasting mitzvah of helping those in need, of giving thanks for all the things I take for granted and hold dear, and of reflecting on a year of great successes as well as areas for improvement in my life.

This year I have so much to be thankful for. I am especially blessed to celebrate this national turkey day with both my family in Chicago and my girlfriend’s in Naples, Florida. My accomplishments and successes in recent months are due in large part to the support, encouragement and love from my family and from my girlfriend. I was blessed with a caring, loving and supporting family. I am also very lucky to have someone so special in my life right now that cares about me and my happiness, that exposes my flaws and shortcomings out of love and care, and that stands by me no matter what I choose to do or be. Without her, achieving all these things would have appeared to be out of reach. So to her I say thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

But the blessings and good news does not stop there! After working in the restaurant business for the past four years, I discovered that my true passion lies in the education field and not in making cocktails for bar and restaurant-goers. Earlier this month, I was ecstatic to find out that I was accepted into a highly accredited graduate school program in pursuance of an elementary education certification. Now, more than ever before, I can begin the journey to realizing my true dream of teaching young children—Jewish, of course—as well as serve my community by becoming a mentor and a positive role model.

How did I know that teaching was going to be it for me? Funny you should ask! Just a couple weeks ago I was offered (and I accepted) a position replacing an outgoing religious school teacher at a Conservative synagogue teaching 4th graders. I can’t begin to tell you how honored and humbled I felt when I was approached by the religious school principal as a potential teacher and was told that I was not only qualified but extremely capable. Once the initial shock subsided, I realized that this was something that I have wanted for a long time and could not contain my excitement. The turning point for me was when I learned that the children wanted me to be their teacher, too! They all voted on the different potential teachers and I came up as the unanimous favorite! I don’t want to sound egotistical or self-centered here, it’s just such a wonderful and engulfing feeling to know that you are wanted and can seize the opportunity to change people’s lives for the better and make a difference. I’ll never forget that feeling, and I remind myself of it each time I step into that classroom and see those wide eyes and smiles staring back at me.

So, as we all sit down to our Thanksgiving tables and enjoy the wonderfully prepared food and the great company, let’s all remember that just because we ask for forgiveness on the High Holidays doesn’t necessarily mean that we forget how to be thankful for what we do have come November. We all have hardships in our lives, but we also have such wonderful blessings to both cherish and create. Let’s all take the opportunity to be thankful for everything that we hold dear, to be genuine and good to yourself and others, to appreciate our lives and look forward to enriching it that much more.

L’Chaim!

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Defiant Jews and Good Germans: The Last Decade in Holocaust Films

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11/11/2010

Fade to black hats photo 2

The first decade of this millennium saw a spate of Holocaust movies. The first hit Holocaust film of the 2000s was certainly The Pianist, which came out in 2002. For his performance as a concert pianist hiding from the Nazis, Adrien Brody won an Oscar— setting the record for youngest Best Actor and becoming the first to beat out four previous Oscar winners nominated alongside him.

Then, in 2008 alone, there were The Reader— which won Kate Winslet an Oscar— DefianceValkyrie, and England’s The Boy in Striped Pyjamas, plus the lesser-known films Good [http://goodthemovie.com] and Adam Resurrected. The next year, we had Inglourious Basterds, nominated in 8 categories for the 2010 Academy Awards.

That’s seven Holocaust movies in just two years, making the 2000’s the most Holocaust-movie saturated decade ever, with 14 movies on the subject in just 10 years. (The 1990s had eight and the 1980s twelve; all figures include foreign-language films with major US releases).

Without trying to guess the reason for so many of Holocaust movies being released in such a short time, we can break them into two categories. Two general assumptions around the Holocaust have been that all Germans were willing accomplices of the Nazis, and that Jews went “like sheep to the slaughter.” These movies confront those ideas.

Many of these films— especially the ones of 2008-9— serve to rehabilitate the image of the average German as going along with the Nazis by asserting that many Germans rebelled, assisted Jews, were ignorant of the ascending Nazi furor/Fuhrer… or were forced into complicity as much as the Jews were forced into victimization.

Valkyrie tells the true story of a Nazi officer who conspired (and, sadly, failed) to assassinate Hitler. The Boy in Striped Pyjamas asserts that at least those who were children during the Nazi era should be considered clean of its stain. And Good examines the lives of average Germans during Hitler’s rise to power, bewildered as to how to react.

Meanwhile, Defiance and Basterds each tell a story of Jews who defy the Nazis. In the historical Defiance, they mostly rebel against the Nazis by simply surviving on their own. In Basterds, as befits a Tarantino revenge fantasy, they rebel through violence.

The Holocaust films of 2008-9 are not the first to explore these lines. 2001 gave us The Grey Zone, in which death-camp inmates who run a crematorium plot to blow it up… and Invincible, Werner Herzog’s movie about a Jewish blacksmith who learns of the Final Solution and intends to form an armed resistance.

Also in 2001, was Taking Sides, about a real-life A-list conductor, Wilhelm Furtwangler, who chose to remain in Germany. A US Army officer is charged with deciding if the conductor was loyal only to his music and musicians… or also to the Third Reich.

Another theme, one could say, is movies about Jewish individuals who found ways to survive. In 2008, the Best Foreign-Language Film winner was Austria’s The Counterfeiters, the true tale of a Jew allowed to live— as long as he helped the Nazis counterfeit British currency. The Pianist and Defiance were, on some level, about rebelling against the Nazis simply be refusing to be captured, and so was Nowhere in Africa, a lyrical film (Best Foreign Film of 2003) about a Jewish girl hiding out from the Holocaust on her family’s African plantation.

The Holocaust films of the 1990s did have Jews in rebellion against the Nazis, but mostly by using imagination and the arts: Jakob the Liar, Life is Beautiful, Comedian Harmonists, Swing Kids. That decade also brought Schindler’s List, which started the not-all-Germans-were-bad trend.

Coming in 2011 is The Nazi Officer’s Wife, based on a documentary about a Jewish woman who became exactly that. Seventy years after 1940’s The Great Dictator, Hollywood isn’t done with the Holocaust quite yet.

The generation that experienced the Holocaust is fading. The group of artists making Holocaust films will soon contain no people with a memory of that time. Not long after that, there will be no survivors left for Hollywood to even consult in crafting such stories and images.

All they will have to work with will be material produced during the Holocaust and in the decades after, the time in which survivors themselves could have some input. The last pieces of which are being filmed… well, now.

For another take on Holocaust films, see author Cynthia Ozick’s analysis in a recent issue of Newsweek. 

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Past to present

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11/10/2010

Past to present photo

My college reunion. I really had to work to get there. The reunion conflicted with a Bar Mitzvah extravaganza. But I was determined to go. I left the Saturday morning service early to hop on a plane that got into Boston at 4:17 p.m. My return flight? Sunday morning 6:55 a.m. to make the Bar Mitzvah party at noon. I was nervous. I over-packed. When I landed in Boston, I snuck into the handicapped accessible bathroom with my suitcase and hanging bag (Larry David would have given me props) and awkwardly changed my outfit. Twice.

As I neared the campus, I was sure I needed make-up. I KNEW I needed deodorant. My anxiety level was high. I hadn't seen many of these people in 17 years. What did they remember about me? Did they remember the me when I first arrived with a bun in my hair, blasting classical music trying to appear scholarly? Did they remember me the next day when I was showering with all my clothes on because a two-liter bottle of purple passion told me to do so? Did they remember when I went on spring break to Florida and came back so painfully burned my eyes had swollen shut with orange ooze? Did they remember my black and white poster of Bo Bice?

Post reunion, I have no idea if anyone remembers any of these things. We didn't talk about that. It was all smiles and hugs, laughter and music. Even a little late night pizza and pumpkin beer. And I'm left wondering why I was so freaked out and why do so many of us fret so much about reunions? Why do we worry what "Joe" is going to think about the wrinkles we've acquired since the last time he sat behind us in class? Or fret over what to wear? Or wax our lip when a fuzzy one seemed to serve our significant others just fine? Or suddenly start working out in a panic to hide well-established love handles? All this time has gone by. And in this time, significant life events that have propelled us from our past and into our present. We have left high school and college far behind—and yet there is this stranglehold of time so many of us feel when an innocent piece of paper arrives in the mail, excitedly encouraging us to attend our reunions.

What is it about the past? Is it shame about who we used to be? About who we are now? About who we loudly and publically swore we would or would not become before graduating into the world of possibilities? Or is it that who we were—jock, cheerleader, nerd, outcast etc.—isn't who we are anymore and we're out to rewrite or relive who we used to be? Well, maybe. For me, when I saw people, actually saw them face-to-face, surprisingly, I wasn't thinking about who they used to be. I fell into a pace of who they are presently. And they with me. I realized all the fretting, the worry and the waxing was unnecessary (the first outfit would have been fine!) And although I reserve the possibility that I will relapse with terrible anxiety come the next reunion opportunity because of how my body, my brain or my life has changed, change is the theme to all reunions. If we stayed the same, we'd never agree to go back.

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Napping and ice cream

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11/09/2010

Napping and ice cream photo

I’m at a party and my friend tells me her boyfriend works out seven days a week.  I give him a high five.  But, I added, take a day off.  We all need a day off.  And stay with me, I’ll get to the ice cream.

When you work out, you are breaking down muscle fibers.  The idea is, muscle fibers build back up stronger and bigger after you workout, but you must rest for them to heal.  Many power lifters take a week off and come back to break plateaus because they let all their micro-tears heal.  I’m not suggesting you should take a week off, but we all need rest.

One of the best things you can do to lose weight and gain muscle is sleep.  I wish I could tell you an energy drink, coffee, or a supplement will help you make up for sleep but it won’t.  Caffeine can give you a little pick-me-up but it’s not a permanent solution and it won’t help muscles heal.  I won’t bore you with all the benefits of sleep but here’s an important one: sleep helps regulate hormones that affect and control your appetite.

If you are having a trouble sleeping, workout harder.  Kidding, but working out does help you sleep.  Other sleep aids:

•         Creating a night time ritual
•         Reading in bed
•         Writing down your thoughts prior to bed
•         Running a noise machine (i.e. rain, white noise, beach)
•         Eat a big bowl of ice cream

Ice cream will probably not help you sleep, but it can help you stay on the healthy train.  Whether your weaknesses are cookies, brownies, cupcakes (they are everywhere), ice cream, enjoy!  Pick one day a week and splurge.  I’m not saying, eat an entire cookie cake, but have a cookie, eat a burger and enjoy.  If your diet consists of burgers and fries, then this will be a huge upgrade.  However, this tip works best when you work in an office like I do.  On most days my office looks like Halloween, minus the outfits.  Candy and baked goods are a little too abundant.  By having a cheat day you can avoid the urge to grab a mini Snickers (which ends up being two mini Snickers and one peanut butter cup) and wait till your cheat day.  My sister once told me, I need a little something sweet each day.  For those of you like my sister, find food items that are sweet and satisfying but without all the sugar, fat and calories.  Here are a few suggestions:

• Fruit
• Dried fruit (check out the sugar, make sure they have some fiber.  I like apricots)
• Sweet potato
• Greek yogurt with honey
• 70% Cacao dark chocolate

When I cheat, I skip the veggie burger and go with a cheeseburger and a chocolate chip cookie (not in the same meal).  What’s your cheat food?

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I completely improvised this blog post

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11/08/2010

I have been performing most of my life.  There are few things I won’t do to get a chance at holding the microphone and having a moment in the spotlight.  For the last four years I have been a part of an Improv Comedy Team in Chicago.  A group of us put together a team as we were finishing classes together at IO Chicago.  Calling ourselves Franken Reagan, we set about getting a coach, rehearsing, and booking shows at bars and small venues around town.  We eventually set up a website, www.frankenreagan.com.  None of us were ever looking to get famous.  We just wanted to try and put on a good show and have fun doing it—most of the time we made people laugh.

Franken Reagan photo

Today, the six current members of Franken Reagan perform together at a regular weekly showcase at Mullen’s Bar and Grill in Wrigleyville.  Mondays are show days, so it makes for a long day.  I am up at 6am to get ready for work and home after 11 from a night that includes two hours of rehearsal and two hours of the show.  But for me, it’s one of the most important parts of my week, so it’s worth being tired at work on Tuesday mornings.

Only two of us still remain on the team from the original rehearsal, four years ago this month.  Over 20 people have been a part of Franken Reagan over the last four years, including the current cast of six.  I would bet that if you interviewed all of us, you would find that everyone had his/her own motivations for working on the team.  For me, there are three things that keep me coming back for more:

1. Team Work

Franken Reagan has been rehearsing as a team almost every week since we started.   I know what you are thinking, how do you rehearse if your show is supposed to be improvised?   It is the most important thing we do.  We develop ideas for our form that acts as the framework for our shows, we run drills to keep our minds and bodies sharp, and most importantly, we learn how to work and play together on stage.  We are no different than any sports team.  Our playing field is the stage, and if we don’t practice, we look sloppy and the fans don’t let us forget it.

No matter what motivates us, the group comes together each week to play hard as a team and hopefully get some laughs in the process.  I love the camaraderie.  It takes a lot of guts to go out on stage in front of an audience, but it takes a lot of trust to do it with a group.  The friendship I have with my team is special.  I even asked the group to play a role in my wedding ceremony, as yichud guards.  I knew they wouldn’t let me down, and they showed up to the wedding in costumes.

2. It helps me perform better at my day job.

I work in international business development, supporting Israeli companies that want to export to the Midwest.  I basically improvise all day long at work.   I work on a team there too.   Improvising has made me a more confident speaker, a more social networker, a quicker thinker, and a more supportive team-player.  I know how to look good and make others look good while doing it.  That’s the essence of my show each week, and that is the essence of the job I actually get paid to do.

3. It’s one of the hardest things I do, and I love it when I get it right.

Improv Comedy is hard.  For me, it’s one of the hardest things that I do in my life.  That helps make the rest of my daily life seem easier.  I know I can get through a lot more after the things I have had to do in front of audiences.

My team has had its share of failures on stage.  We haven’t always come out on top, killed it or put up a quality show.  For me, it’s all worth it because it gets me closer to that perfect show.  There are moments on stage where everything is going perfectly.  Where you know you are doing things right.  When you are in the moment.  Not everyone does Imrpov, but everyone has probably had this feeling at one time or another.  Maybe it was during a presentation, a job interview, an exam, a football game, a race, a date… it was one of those moments where you felt you could say and do no wrong and it was clear by the reaction you were getting that you were probably right on target for success.

That’s what it feels like to have a great moment in a show.  Those are the moments that I live for as a performer.  Those are the moments that get me to show up every week, even if the previous week was a complete bomb.

I could go on for pages about the merits of Improv Comedy.  I really believe it can help a lot of people and can do a lot for just about anyone.  There are a lot of places to take classes around town.  You don’t have to be funny to get something out of Improv Comedy.  In fact, if you are trying to be funny, you probably missed the point.  You just have to be open and committed to learning something new and getting out of your comfort zone.  Trust me, it’s worth the risk.  By the way, if you are not doing anything on Monday night, check out www.frankenreagan.com to see if we have a show.  It’s free, and most nights we make people laugh.

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Thanksgiving insanity

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11/05/2010

Thanksgiving insanity photo

I have been battling mini-panic attacks at least once a day for the last month.  I’ll be sitting at my desk at work, or watching my son toss food at the dog, and all of a sudden, the evil thoughts creep into my head.

Don’t forget to bring in the guy to calibrate the oven… Do I actually need to touch the giblets?… Are three desserts enough?… What if I mess up the turkey?… Am I crazy for hosting this outrageously overwhelming holiday?

Deep breaths, and sometimes a glass of wine (not at work, of course) can typically fend off the mounting meltdown.  At least until the next “what if?” sneaks in.

For me, Thanksgiving is the be-all, end-all of holidays.  Growing up, it was the one holiday a year that both sides of my family celebrated together, and it was always at our house.  I eagerly anticipated spending the day with both sets of grandparents, cousins from as close as Highland Park and as far as Louisville, friends that were more like family and, of course, my mom, dad and three little brothers. 

We built forts out of sheets and blankets in the basement, and showed off our new toys, and got into silly fights over said toys, while picking at the appetizers and waiting impatiently for dinner to be ready. 

Our Thanksgivings weren’t fancy affairs.  No china or crystal or silver graced the tables.  My mom, who spent the previous week (if not more) in the kitchen, probably figured that her children were not going to line up and help with the dishes after all was said and done, so we were a paper and plastic kind of family. 

I’m sure the food was delicious.  To be honest, I don’t even remember.  What mattered to me was that everyone I loved was at my house, and for just one day, everything was perfect.

My own memories of perfect Thanksgivings past are going to give me a heart attack.  I am driven to re-create the perfect day so that my child will have the same experience I did, even though that child is 15 months old and can’t even say “turkey,” much less remember anything other than when his next bottle is coming.

No matter.  I’ve been consuming old holiday editions of Bon Appetit for months.  I’ve collected turkey placemats, pumpkin pie-shaped dishes, Thanksgiving-colored candles and baskets of gourds.  I’ve come up with a creative way for all of us to share what we’re thankful for.  I have dived fully into Thanksgiving insanity.

After my parents got divorced, our perfect family Thanksgivings came to an end.  We still had delicious dinners, but only with one side of the family, and with re-marriages, that family included a lot of new faces.  It was good, but it wasn’t the same.

This year I made it my mission to bring us back to the Thanksgivings of my childhood.  My parents (Mom, Dad and Step-dad), my in-laws, my brothers and sister-in-law, my grandma and my closest family friends will somehow cram into our home and squeeze around the table.  There will be hot cider, cold beer, football, and probably a food disaster or two. 

Our son, Ben, will most likely scrunch up his face when he tastes stuffing and cranberry sauce, a sign that the food is about to be launched over the high chair tray.  He’ll be overtired and in bed by 7, missing most of the party.

And I will try my hardest to stop fussing with the turkey, and kvetching about people in the kitchen, and fretting about how we’re all going to fit in the dining room, just long enough to take in all the warm, familial goodness and be thankful.

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Harriet the Spy rides the Brown Line

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11/04/2010

Harriet the Spy rides the Brown Line photo

I sincerely believe that every day on public transit is an adventure. It’s the ultimate people-watcher’s paradise:  there’s always something going on. We all get treated to drama and comedy of epic scope, for the price of admission onto a train or a bus.

Today, for instance, the Brown Line was packed. Usually when I catch the train, things are pretty laid back: there are a few seats open and the platform is fairly empty. But as soon as I saw there was one open seat in the front car, I planted myself in front of the door and made a beeline for it. (Maybe I’m a little aggressive about finding seats on the train. I can’t get hungry for the first hour and a half that I’m awake, but I have fainted enough times on the Brown Line that I don’t trust myself to make the whole trip hot, cramped and without calories. Generally I try to be polite on public transit, but this is one of the things I allow myself, like giving the stinkeye to people who take up two seats or who sit on the aisle and make it hard for others to get in.)

The lady who wound up sitting next to me was a sigher. For whatever reason, she constantly commented on the state of the world with these frantic little sighs. She wore a beautiful ankle-length black wool coat, and by the time I got curious enough to look from the window to my seat-mate, I saw that she had spread out a full array of makeup products on her knees. The eye shadow kit with which she was touching up her gold-and-gunsmoke color scheme had the Chanel logo on the outside and a mirror inside the lid. I was amazed that she had the confidence to put on her face on a bouncing train car, without knocking her elbows into anyone around her.

You can learn a lot by studying a train car on a macro level too. A game I play, because yeah, I am pretty judgmental about how people behave on public transit, is to figure out who is blocking the aisles. It’s the worst when you’re trying to get onto a car, and the area in front of the doors is packed tight as sardines, while other riders are hanging out just fine by the seats. (Pro-tip: Speaking up generally does get people to shuffle in a little and make some room. I’ve found that not letting my grouchiness get in the way will make them more accommodating, and may lead to good-humored mutual complaining about the state of the CTA.) Anyway, your culprit for bottlenecks is not always who you think. They’re usually totally oblivious to their surroundings. They’re also usually hanging off the second-nearest pole like a rhesus monkey, ignoring or not seeing the bar eighteen inches away that will free their fellow riders from a truly special brand of forced socializing. (Moral of the story: Be considerate as much as you can, because I may be watching and blog about you.)

If you’d rather not risk awkward moments of eye contact, I’m also a huge fan of staring out the window. I’ve lived in Chicago for most of the past eight years, and I still automatically sit as close to the window as I can, and on the side with the best view, whether it’s the side of the bus where I can watch the lake or the side of the Brown Line where I can see the horses near the Noble Horse Theater, just past the Sedgwick stop. Even with all that time on the CTA, there are some things that still elude me. Why is the actress in that poster by the Steppenwolf Theater so angry? (Why did they choose that photo to entice us to buy tickets?) Who uses the community garden just past Armitage? What’s with that six-story list of names near the elevated Chicago stop? How long will that early-rising worker stare back at us from her office while we’re waiting for signal clearance?

Like I said, adventure for $2.25 a pop. And all before 8:30 this morning! Catch you on the flip side, Chicago. You’re always fun to watch.

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New definitions

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11/03/2010

New definitions photo

In 1710, Queen Anne told Sir Christopher Wren— one of the greatest architects in history— that his renovation of St. Paul’s Cathedral was “awful, artificial and amusing.” He was thrilled with the compliment; today, she would have said his work was “awesome, artistic, and amazing.”

The meanings of words change. And the definitions we give to Jewish terms need to change, too. It seems that every book with a glossary of Jewish terms at the end, even ones published just a year ago, simply recycled it from one written in the 1940s in England. This is true for novels, memoirs, histories, textbooks, even cookbooks.

The message these hoary, cobweb-covered definitions sends to someone learning about Judaism is that our religion is outdated and foreign. That it is unrelatable and irrelevant. Exactly the opposite of the truth, and exactly the opposite of what these books are trying to do, which is speak to today’s readers in today’s terms. To encourage participation in today’s Jewish life by today’s Jews.

Calling Rosh Hashannah “The Jewish New Year,” or Yom Kippur “The Day of Atonement,” is fine, as is calling Chanukah “The Festival of Lights.” All are accurate in both their denotations and connotations. (But we could do without this “Feast of…” business. As if people didn’t already think of Jews as overly food-focused.)

Succot is usually translated as “Tabernacles.” First of all, no one knows what that word means. Why would we explain an unknown word with another unknown word? If someone doesn’t know what an “elephant” is, do we say “a pachyderm”? Second of all, it sounds like a joint disease: “Yup, storm’s a-brewin’… mah tabernacles‘re actin’ up.” The word is Latin for “tents.” But we don’t speak Latin and we don’t build tents on Succot, not in the current sense of a camping tent. In fact, that waterproof kind of tent would be an invalid succah.

Aside from Tabernacles, the holiday is called “The Festival of Booths.” That’s still not good enough. What’s a “booth”? There are no telephone booths in the day of the Blackberry, so we use that word to mean the seating in restaurants comprised of benches instead of chairs. Or a “booth” is a stand at a tradeshow.

The word we want is “hut.” A “hut” is a basic, fragile, unassuming dwelling made of materials at hand, often with a thatched roof. Which is what a succah is. Does the word “hut” sound primitive? Good, it should. It’s supposed to evoke life in the wilderness and fields, where the original succot were built. Why not— “Succot: The Festival of Huts.”

Shavuot is “The Festival of Weeks.” While this is an accurate translation of its name— it comes seven weeks after Passover— it sort of buries the lead. Which is that this is the holiday celebrating the Revelation of God at Mt. Sinai and the giving of the “Ten Commandments” (see below). Now, these are things most people have heard of, and have even seen the movie. If so, why have so few heard of the relevant holiday? It could have something to do with its wishy-washy name. Why not call Shavuot “The Festival of The Revelation,” since that is the headline of the story.

Calling Purim “The Festival of Lots” only prompts the obvious query: “Lots of what?” Well, no… Haman “cast lots” to determine the day on which to commit genocide on the Jews. But that’s such a minor point in the story— why even bother to update that translation to “Festival of Lotteries”? Why not call it “The Festival of Esther,” since she is the focus? Wouldn’t it be cool to be the religion with the party holiday that honors a heroic woman?

And Pesach, of course is “Passover.” Again, a minor plot element in the story becomes the name of the holiday. But in this case, “Passover” has so much name recognition it gets... well, a pass.

But why must we call “matzah” the “unleavened” bread? No one knows what that word means. No one ever uses that word in any other context. Even a kosher-for-Passover cake isn’t called an “unleavened cake.” What about calling matzah “yeast-less bread” or “yeast-free bread,” since that is the point.

On the subject of food, why must “kasha” be “buckwheat groats”? Why make people look up “kasha,” only to have to then look up “groats”? Why not “buckwheat grains,” or simply “buckwheat”? Kashe varnishkes: buckwheat and pasta. Done.

One Jewish food with a confusing definition is “kugel.” Almost unanimously, glossary-makers define this Britishly, as “pudding.” And, equally unanimously, Americans equate the word “pudding” with a custard-like dessert that mostly comes in ice cream-like flavors. I don’t want a Snak-Pak of potato pudding, do you? Or a Jell-O noodle pudding pop? So why do we call a potato kugel a “potato pudding?” A more contemporary definition of “kugel” would be “casserole.” It comes in a 13x9 Pyrex, just like tuna or green bean casserole. And if it must be “pudding,” then we should expand, helpfully: “pudding, as in bread or rice pudding.” Oh, that kind of pudding.

The most off-putting old definition of a Jewish food is that for kishka (a.k.a. kishke). This was—generations ago, oceans away— made by using a cow’s small intestine as a casing. Not for sausage, but for a seasoned, bready stuffing. Today, in this country, we use plastic or paper casings. In any case, the casing is never eaten anyway. Yet, kishka is always called “stuffed derma,” or “stuffed intestines,” which makes it sound like the Jewish equivalent of haggis. In fact, it is merely— and more accurately— “maztah-meal stuffing.” And if it’s not exactly healthy, it is quite tasty.

Meanwhile, what is “chopped liver,” chopped liver? Yeah, well… why can’t it be the much more sophisticated “paté”?

But perhaps the Jewish word with the most useless traditional definition is “tefillin” (teh-FILL-in). These are small leather boxes worn during morning prayers, held in place with leather straps. The source for this practice is the Torah itself, a passage that is part of the Shema prayer (Deuteronomy 6:8):  “And you shall bind [these words] on your hands, and they shall be amulets between your eyes” (my translation).

Anyway, these things are almost always defined in glossaries as “phylacteries,” a word which nobody even knows how to pronounce, let alone comprehend. Why not save everyone the trouble and define “tefillin” as “leather, parchment-filled boxes worn by Jews during morning prayers.” Yes, that’s a mouthful, but at least that’s what they are, presented in words everyone can comprehend.

Some other ones:
—The word “mitzvah” may mean “good deed” in slang, but literally means “commandment.”

—So yes, “Aseret HaDibrot,” is more accurately rendered not “The Ten Commandments” but “The Ten Declarations.” For those of you who have long held that the first of the Ten is more of a “statement” than a “commandment,” well, sure… Hebrew speakers never called them all “commandments” in the first place!

— Instead of saying that we “chant” the Torah or prayers, can we please say that we “recite” them? “Chanting” sounds savage, witchy, and thudding. But we “recite” poems, and play piano at “recitals,” so that word is much more enlightened and melodic. The prayers are largely Psalms, written by King David and other poets, to be sung by the Levites in the Holy Temple. They are not “chants” grunted by a men’s encounter group in the woods or shouted by angry protesters.

We Jews are a minority, and our ways are esoteric and ancient enough; these archaic definitions create another barrier to those exploring our already-challenging world. Our clinging to outdated definitions is additionally off-putting— intellectually and emotionally— to those who want to know more about Judaism. But with new definitions, we Jews can stop seeming “awful, artificial, and amusing”.... and start coming across as we are— awesome, artistic, and amazing.

The Glossary of Jewish Terms I wrote for JUF’s website, www.juf.org, is here. Last I checked, it was being used by the Federations for 40 US cities, states, and regions, as well as sites based in Canada and the UK. In compiling the Glossary, I strived to make the definitions relevant to today’s speakers and readers. Feel free to let me know how I did.

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We’re the book club

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11/02/2010

We’re the book club photo

I’m a reader—I always have been.  I grew up thoroughly entrenched in dork-land, not stirring up trouble in standard pre-teen fashion but instead pissing off my parents by staying up into all hours of the night with a flashlight under the covers.

I read every Babysitters Club, every Sweet Valley High and every other fluffy teenage drama.  The only books I avoided were the ones inflicted upon me by my teachers.  The idea of reading a book torturously slowly, chapter by chapter, and discussing it to death made me want to snag a copy of the Cliffs Notes as quickly as possible and space out during class.

In college, the endless stream of political science textbooks and French lit didn't leave any time for pleasure reading, and once I graduated, reading on my morning commute wasn't too successful, given the bumpy and overcrowded nature of the 156 bus.  As a recent grad in a new city, I was looking for new friends and new book recommendations, and so, the book club was born.

It started with four girls (at the time, the only girls in Chicago that I knew) schmoozing about Eat Pray Love at a delicious Thai and sushi dinner at the Indie Cafe in January of 2008.  I was the only one who actually finished the book; Abby was half-way through India, Mara got bored before the end of Italy and Tara never bought the book.  Somehow the conversation drifted from the book of the month to French Women Don't Get Fat to the pros and cons of raw diets to the latest gossip about the boys in our lives.

Several bottles of wine and a shockingly loud pop of a champagne bottle later, we had not gotten very deep into the book (or into it at all—can't ruin the ending for...everyone), but we were fairly drunk and enthused to do it again.

Months and months (well, years…) later, we have grown from four to 20 on the monthly invitation list, and we’ve said farewell to members who have moved away.  We’ve welcomed fresh transplants to the city and made new friends with some locals.  We’ve held potlucks, treated ourselves to dinner and gone on field trips.

The book club has tackled dozens of books—and of course following true book club fashion, we’ve never really discussed any of them in depth.  We've bonded over our failed attempts to critique our literary picks over nearly one hundred bottles of wine.  We've held after-book-club-parties at bars all across Chicago, and inflicted our silliness upon anyone who would listen to our recurring proclamation: "We're the book club!"  (The conversation typically continued as follows: "Really?  What book did you read?" "Um, Rachel - what book was it again?" or "I can't remember what it's called - I haven't finished it yet...")

Every fall, we now take turns offering up book suggestions for the year ahead, and I tend to read almost all of them—not just the 12 we pick for the next 12 months—and as a nerd at heart, I'm usually a book or two ahead of schedule (thank you Kindle!).  Luckily, at least a couple other girls have joined who tend to finish the book fairly regularly, but still, the books are rarely discussed.

Regardless, book club has allowed me to reenter the literary world, while facilitating the formation and strengthening of some special friendships along the way.

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To hug or not to hug

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11/01/2010

Can we please talk about the most awkward moment of a girl date? Because it’s killing me.

You have a nice dinner, easy chatting, and then, when you part, there’s this moment. Nervous hesitation, shifting from side to side. Uncomfortable energy is in the air… And then you go for it. The hug.

Or you don’t. But if you’re me, you do. And it is just so painfully awkward.

I am not kidding. The to-hug-or-not-to-hug parting moment is the worst. I’m one of those people who will do anything to interrupt an awkward silence. Including calling out the silence itself. “Well this is awkward…” Thus increasing the kill-me-now factor by approximately one thousand percent.

It’s a combo of Monica Geller’s “I’m breezy!” and Chandler Bing’s “I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable!”

Take a girl-date I went on a few months back. We had a perfectly nice meal, but when we were leaving there was this strange moment where neither of us knew what to say or do. So just as she started to wave goodbye I actually said aloud “Ok, I’m just going to go for the hug.”

Who says that? The poor girl was like “Um, ok. So we’re doing that.” Those were her actual words.

A similar problem can occur when you run into a sorta friend out of the blue. Do we hug hello? Or just wave?

This happened to me twice—twice!—yesterday. First I ran into an old coworker, and for reasons I cannot explain I hugged him. I should not have been hugging him. We were not close. It was weird. I was just so taken aback by seeing him out of context that I went for it. And then I was totally embarrassed for the duration of the conversation and for a good seven minutes afterwards.

Then, because apparently that wasn’t uncomfortable enough, I ran into a girl who works at my company at a bar last night. And I hugged her hello. I mean seriously. What is wrong with me? Again, embarrassed. Less so, because I bet she’s a hugger, but still. I hardly know her. We work in the same company, not the same department. It was not the time.

All this to say, if you run into me on the street, and you see me start to lift my arms, you have two options: Embrace it, or run.

Does anyone out there even know what I’m talking about? Have you experienced this awkward girl-date moment? Or am I just a total weirdo? Don’t feel bad, you won't be telling me anything I don’t already know…

Read more  about new Oy! blogger Rachel’s quest to meet her new BFF.

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In defense of learning

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10/29/2010

In defense of learning photo

The night before the first day of school, I’d get butterflies in my stomach and wouldn’t sleep a wink. Ever since I could remember, the idea of learning fascinated me. I was the kid who spent hours curled up on my favorite armchair with a book. I was the kid who threw temper tantrums when my parents would make me go outside—sans book—because I would have rather spent the time reading.

I proudly call myself an intellectual. No, I don’t sit in dusky cafes discussing the philosophical underpinnings of an obscure text. But I have been known to roam the library, to spend hours to find the right word to describe a thought or a thing, and to conduct tricky research just to form my own opinion on something.

My yearning for learning likely is just a mutation in my curiosity gene. And because of that, I’ve become a repository of random trivia—great for bar nights and Trivial Pursuit. But it’s also a way for me to do what Hercule Poirot was fond of suggesting: We have to give our gray matter exercise.

Constantly training my memory, reading new things, participating in discussions, and striving to attain knowledge is the best way I know to stay ahead of the masses. It helps me gain perspective and make my own choices. Asking questions is what our species does (and the best question isn’t what? It’s why? or how?). I’ll know that it’s time to go when I no longer want to know anything, no longer want to strive for something more, no longer want to engage in discussions for the sake of the discussion rather than the subject.

A character in a Russian youth literature book I recently discovered imparted these words of wisdom: “One cannot be too smart, but for some reason everyone just complains about their ability to remember but never about their ability to think.” The same book posed this philosophical axiom: Our civilization can only survive if we live in a world where the intellect is a more prized possession than strength, power, or money.

My goal is to live my life in a way that allows what I believe is the most noble effort—the pursuit of knowledge. The understanding that we constantly need to improve is what separates us from other animals. Well, that, and the opposable-thumbs-for-better-gripping thing. If that makes me obnoxious or makes me sound pretentious, so be it.

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Why you should vote on Tuesday

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10/28/2010

Why you should vote on Tuesday photo

I majored in political science, interned for a congresswoman, worked for political organizations, volunteered for a presidential candidate and understand the ins and outs of the political process and how important and crucial it is to vote in every election.  And yet, like many of us (I assume) I wish I could sit this one out.

It’s not that I haven’t been following the hoopla—Harry Reid and Susan Angle, Christine O’Donnell and Chris Coons, Meg Whitman and Jerry Brown, the tea party and the new elite— it’s all just so noisy and exhausting.  Earlier this week, I counted more than a dozen campaign commercials during Dancing with the Stars and there isn’t even a president election this year!  And all of them, without an exception, spent the entire commercial bashing the other candidate and never said a word about what they were actually going to do for this country.  Depressing, much?

If, like me, you are feeling **election lethargy, don’t give up and skip out on Tuesday— it will only make things worse.  Even through the cacophony of partisanship fighting there are many reasons to make sure your vote gets counted.  Here are a few of them:

Illinois is important.  Maybe it comes with age (I did just turn 27), but I’m not seeing any of our candidates from either political party with the same rose-colored glasses of my “youth.”  Still, this election has a lot on the line, both the house and the senate are up for grabs and the senate race in Illinois could potentially decide if Harry Reid (assuming he sticks around) or Mitch McConnell takes over.  That’s a big deal!  Whether or not you like our candidates as individuals, you have to decide if you want the donkeys or the elephants to be in charge the next two years.

This is our future.  The aftermath of the recession, repealing DADT, Iran, healthcare, education reform, social security, gay marriage, peace in Israel, stem cell research, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, reproductive choice— these issues are going to define our generation and affect our lives for the rest of our lives.  It’s times like this when it’s more important than ever to make sure our voices get heard.

Why wouldn’t you?  What do you have to lose?  My dad has sat out more presidential elections than I’ve been alive for, but he’s also never, not once, not showed up to the polls on voting day.  Every election cycle consists of more than just the big stuff.  Did you know that this year there are 24 judge elections and 41 referenda items on the Cook County Ballot?  Even if you can’t bring yourself to vote for the lesser of two evils in some of the bigger elections, there are other races.

Don’t complain when you don’t like what happens.  To quote my friend Mark, “if I don't participate by picking the people that I want to govern me, then I'll only be governed by people I don't like…or worse, people that are completely against my interests.”  ‘Nough said.

We live in a Democracy.  If none of the above makes you want to run out to the polls on Tuesday morning, consider this: voting is a privilege you just shouldn’t waste.  I know it is cheesy, but we are all lucky to live in a Democracy.  We have the freedom to show up at the polls and vote for any candidate we chose with no threat of punishment or negative repercussion.  I travelled abroad this summer and visited a country run by a longstanding dictator.  I had a very negative experience in this country interacting with its residents and left never wanting to return.  It wasn’t until a few weeks later that it dawned on me that the oppression they were living under might have had something to do with morale and why they treated outsiders so wretchedly.  Never before have I valued my freedom more.  While it might not be perfect here, we are lucky to be Americans.

Don’t be lazy.  Finally, if the reasons why you might skip voting on Tuesday have anything to do with not know where your precinct is,  what you need to vote, or when to vote, take a few minutes right now to find out.  I’ve listed some resources below and above that will answer all your questions and if you’re still in doubt just Google it.  Also, if your excuse is that you just won’t have the time Tuesday to make it to the polls, then think again.  Voting early ends today.  There are more than a dozen precincts where you can vote early in Cook County.  I’m heading to the County Clerk’s Main Office at 69 West Washington over lunch today to vote.

I’ll meet you there!

**Election lethargy as defined by me is: One who is sick of and wishes that all these damn politicians and their special interest groups would just shut up, stop fighting and hijacking the election, quit calling each other extremists and actually consider what is best for our country.

For more information on how to vote and to get educated on the candidates, visit  rock the vote .  Visit  VOTE411.org  to see who's on your ballot, choose your candidates and print a copy of your "ballot" to take with you to the polls.

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An Interview with Shaun Weiss, a.k.a. “Goldberg” of The Mighty Ducks

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10/27/2010

There are few movies that defined the era of my childhood like the Mighty Ducks. Every kid at the time got on their skates or blades and tried the triple deke. Sometimes we pretended to be Banks, sometimes we were Conway, and sometimes to spice it up, we were the goalie Goldberg!!! As a young Jewish kid, to see one of my own win the Minnesota youth hockey championship and a title for Team USA, it was just inspiring. Well, The Great Rabbino caught up with Shaun Weiss, a.k.a. Goldberg for an interview. Great guy. Legendary role. Jewish sports icon!

The Great Rabbino: Hey man, thank you for agreeing to do this interview. You are definitely a Jewish Sports legend. To start off the interview, be honest, what was bigger for your career the Mighty Ducks or the episode of Saved By the Bell: the College Years that you were in? And in a follow up question, is Kelly Kapowski as awesome in real life?
Shaun Weiss: Never met her. I did six episodes of the new class so I got to hang with Screech... zoiks! But her sideburns always bugged me.

What kind of training did you have to do to get ready for your role as Goldberg?
We had three months of hockey camp. Skating didn't come easy for me—I spent the first month on my ass. Never wanted to quit, but I did wish the movie was about the Oregon football team.

What was the best piece of advice you ever received from Coach Bombay and do you think you could kick Charlie Conway’s ass right now?
I assume you mean Emilio, the real guy. Best advice: "If you’re going to hook up with the extras, get their parents to sign a release form." Kick Conway’s ass? What kind of mensch are you, guy?

Since this is a Jewish Sports blog, I was wondering what it was like playing the token Jew in the film. Did it follow your throughout high school? Did you actually grow up in a Jewish home?
Shaun: Token Jew? Hmm... felt more like the token fat kid. The schools I attended were predominantly Jewish, so for a couple years there was a bar/bat mitzvah every weekend, sometimes two. It was fun watching them try to top each other. Kept waiting for Streisand to show up and bust out the Hava Nagila.

You are definitely a movie star to all of my friends and we love your ESPN commercial, so what else have you been up to recently?
I'm a stand-up comedian and have been studying the screenwriting craft for a decade.

Lastly, the question that I think is on all of our minds. Have you ever tried a triple deke and does it actually work?
Never tried the triple deke. Of course it works, didn't you see the movie? :)

Big thanks to Shaun Weiss/Goldberg. Huge fan of the Ducks movies.

And Let Us Say...Amen.

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Addiction

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10/26/2010

Addiction photo

My son's life as we knew it came to a crashing halt on October 8, 2009. 

Fortunately (and coincidentally), he was given a second chance at living an honest, fulfilling, clean life, which began on October 9, 2009, his 26th birthday.  You see, my son is an addict.

As we bury another young Jewish man in Chicago today, my heart aches for his family and friends, as well as his young children who will never know their father.  It was his decision alone to shoot heroin just one more time; however, this tragedy might have been avoided.  So long as we choose to judge those addicted to alcohol, drugs, gambling, pills - whatever their poison of choice - and assume that these are signs of poor character, such tragedies will continue.  The stigma of addiction must be lifted if we are to give our children a future.  Until we realize and accept that addiction is a psychiatric illness, not a moral choice, and that Jews ARE susceptible, we will endure the pain of senseless loss.  We may avert our eyes and pretend that "Jews don't do that", but we are only fooling ourselves, at a tremendous cost.

I am proud of my son, a non-substance abusing compulsive gambler.  After years of living lies, stealing from friends, family and his employer, I am grateful he chose recovery, rehabilitation and life.  He once asked me "Why do they tell kids not to drink or do drugs, but they never tell you what internet gambling can do to your life?”  With the help of a supportive community and qualified, straightforward professionals at Beit T'Shuvah in L.A., he is working on reconnecting with his soul.  He is determined to be of service to others, right the wrongs he has committed, and help others out of their deep dark holes.  Is this not a basic tenet of Judaism?

The work is not easy, the burden tremendous, and is accomplished one day at a time; but he keeps his eye on the end result.  The losses have been great.  He lost his wife, his friends, his job, and his home almost instantly.  Despite being a first time, non-violent offender, he is spending 8 months in state prison, where he "celebrated" not only the high holidays, but his 1st clean birthday and his 27th biological birthday.  He continues to be an inspiration to others, though he lives in humility and is grateful for the people that continue to play an integral role in his life.  His future is bright, with a job and home awaiting him and a clear conscience.

I urge each of you to recognize the signs of addiction and take action now.  Tomorrow may be too late.

For more information about addiction and how you can take action or get help, contact the Jewish Healing Network of Chicago at  http://www.jcfs.org/p_program.cfm?cat=jhn&id=41

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Bullies

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10/25/2010

Bullies photo

After the tragic suicide of Tyler Clementi, the Rutgers student whose sexual encounter with another male student was filmed and broadcast without his knowledge, the public wanted the heads of the roommate who recorded Clementi, and the roommate’s friend who was perceived as an accomplice of some sort. Both of these people were vilified in the media as bullies and Clementi’s death launched a set of public service announcements by Ellen DeGeneresHillary ClintonSarah Silverman and more.

While the message of the PSAs is undeniably important, I also discussed the tragedy with colleagues and students as a way to explore how the roommate alone was not to blame. What about the people who watched the recording, and read the roommate’s tweet, and saw the Facebook suicide note? Did they not have an ethical responsibility to act on Clementi’s behalf?

What’s more, it’s difficult to hold college students up to a higher standard than professional videographers and producers at an international cable network. If anyone should be clearly punished, or at least vilified, it should be the MTV staff in the room while Amber Portwood hit, slapped and punched her boyfriend in front of their two year old daughter, Leah, during the September 28th episode of the MTV Reality Show “Teen Mom.”

The MTV staff is there to get raw footage that will generate ratings, but at some point, as individuals their conscience should have clicked in to gear and they should have stopped the fight or removed the child from the room. True, it’s not their job to do so. Their job is to record “reality.” But sometimes your job is not more important than being a human being. Even though Portwood’s baby’s father is much larger than she is, no person ever deserves to be beaten by another person, period. They could have filmed one punch, and then broken it up and separated the two. I’m sure the ratings would have been the same.

In addition, that fight could cause irreparable emotional damage to little Leah, who didn’t get to choose who her parents are or whether or not she would be on reality TV.

However, the MTV staff had a choice, and they made the wrong one. Under Indiana law they could be held accountable for not reporting child abuse, as domestic abuse in front of a young minor is paramount to child abuse.

To read more about the effects of domestic violence on children: http://www.acadv.org/children.html

Shalva offers 24-hour help for local Jewish families dealing with domestic abuse: http://www.shalvaonline.org/about-us.aspx

The National Domestic Abuse Hotline is here: http://www.thehotline.org/

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America’s gone ‘Mad’

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10/22/2010

America’s gone ‘Mad’ photo 4

America’s gone mad for Mad Men. I admit that I, too, have gone mad. My madness for the show has been one of anger, love, resignation and finally—ambivalence, and love, still. The show leaves me with more questions than answers, and somewhat ambivalent, because I think the show echoes and mirrors back to us much of the “post-feminist” era ambivalence our generation faces today. The show, which some dub as a period piece, subtly and not-so-subtly hits on many gender issues that are not yet resolved, both for the 1950s-60s characters working on Madison Avenue in New York, and for us all.

On the very surface, Mad Men watchers are, at the very least, nostalgically obsessed with the show’s aesthetic. While our parents are probably scarcely fazed by the sharp suits and sheath dresses with cigarettes dangling from the characters’ mouths, we young people cannot get enough—evidenced by entire racks in costume shops devoted to Mad Men dresses for Halloween this year. I too, have succumbed to the 1950s and 1960s glamour featured in the show, and only last weekend I found myself ogling similar trends in vintage shops in Chicago’s Lincoln Square neighborhood.

For argument’s sake, let’s say people are not merely nostalgic and fascinated by a period show. Let’s say, there’s something a bit deeper that lures and holds the attention of such a large audience of men and women.

For a year, I refused to even touch the show, and only recently have been catching up on the series. My hesitance came after having long talks with a co-worker and fan (holding the same position as mine at work), who would complain he wished he could smoke in the office and get a secretary to do his grunt work. I thought, If this is the influence the show is having on guys today, no thanks. While he was likely kidding, other males with whom I’ve spoke have similar iconic associations with Don Draper, as if Draper were the modern Super Man.

However, I would argue that while Draper has a shiny and unquestionably handsome veneer, he more closely resembles the doomed protagonists from Greek tragedies. I might similarly describe the women who touch his life. Draper, who out of tragic childhood, rose above by reinventing himself, can’t quite figure out who that “self” is, and plows through a failing marriage with countless extra-marital affairs and with a closed-off disregard for anyone whom he encounters. One might say he’s dead inside. What an icon for modern men.

Betty, his wife, begins the series also with a beautiful veneer, and desperation to leave the shiny bubble in which she lives as a housewife, knowing that Don is continually cheating on her.

Interestingly, one of the first female characters with whom Don can truly connect and be honest with about his past is the Jewish character Rachel Menken, the head of Menken’s, a Jewish department store in New York. While there is a sense of discomfort and otherness surrounding Jews in the show and her family in particular, Don and Rachel somehow bridge the gap. When Don’s firm wants to schedule an appointment with Rachel regarding advertising for her store, they search out a random Jewish person from the company who can attend the meeting to make her feel more comfortable. However upon meeting her, Rachel’s frankness and ability to cut through Don’s bull puts him at ease in a manner that Betty cannot. Betty, who takes on a child-like demeanor early in the series, is protected from the serious issues of Don’s past.

On two separate occasions I discussed Rachel’s character with my father and a friend my age, and both times I was offered the joke about the Jewish boy who came home from school and told his mother he got a part in the school play. She asked him what part and he replied, “The Jewish father.” To which she answered, “Go back to the school and ask for a speaking role.”

Often, women are perceived as the dominant figure in the household—but that’s just it, in the household. Rachel’s character was more of an outlier, if one subscribes to that stereotype, as she was college educated, came from a family of money and ran her family’s business—a seemingly rare feat in the 1950s. Very rarely, does one see a woman being pitched to in the board room on Mad Men. My father said back in the 1950s and 1960s Jewish women were known to help run and even take over family businesses, and culturally it was more acceptable.

The show is complex, as are the characters, whom we see grow from season to season. For instance, Betty finally divorces Don. Other characters such as Peggy forego the traditional female route, as she gave up her baby to follow her career aspirations. There is also the character of Joan, who is like the red-headed Marilyn Monroe of the show, with a curvaceous figure and careful, yet strong demeanor. As the show’s resident sex icon, she also becomes the victim of a rape. The instance reminded me of Sex and the City’s treatment of the character Samantha, who late in the series got breast cancer—which doctors partially blamed on her not having children—linked to her promiscuous lifestyle.

While the show is complex, I worry that it also glamorizes patriarchy, remorseless extra-marital affairs and a male population that largely disregards the women surrounding it. Similarly, I am uncomfortable with on-camera females who struggle with child-like, gender roles that are in some ways generations behind us—perhaps not as much as we’d hope. Perhaps my discomfort with these characters is healthy and expected as part of a modern audience. But, I wonder, does it make the male viewers uncomfortable? I fear not.

When I sat down to write this article, I began by perusing the  Mad Men Web site . I found on the site a link: “Mad Men Yourself Avatar.” I couldn’t help myself. I clicked and—accompanied by jazzy cocktail music—began the process of Man Men-ifying myself (reminiscent of the time I South Park’ed myself in college and plastered it on Facebook). For those who are curious—yes, I was a blonde then.

America’s gone ‘Mad’ photo 2

I began the process of creating my avatar, and was surprisingly disturbed by my options. While the avatar program loaded, only a male physique was portrayed, phasing in and out of forms, with different clothes and a brief case. Only when the program was loaded, was I given the option of male or female, indicated by “suit” or “skirt” respectively. I thought to myself, “Some women wore suits back then!? Already, I’m having a wardrobe malfunction.”

After resigning to “skirt,” I proceeded to click through screens, selecting my body type (skinny, busty or chubby); skin color; head shape; hair style and color (with or without a hat); eyes with or with out glasses; eyebrows; nose; lips; clothing and accessories, finally ending with my setting or “scene.” There were so many issues along the way—where do I begin? I wasn’t busty enough for the busty prototype, and I was too curvy for the rail thin one, but I took that one because I do not measure up to the character Joan’s chest—for whom that busty prototype was probably modeled. None of the hair styles accounted truly for my Jewish curls. When I got to the clothing portion, I could spin a clothing wrack and pick from any number of dresses, with only two suit options—both were hideous by the way. I went with a power-red sheath dress and a black clutch. These were items I could live with, and even wear today. Accessory options included anything from a shotgun and accordion, to purses, jewelry, alcoholic drinks and a newspaper. I chose the newspaper: My avatar doppelganger was also to be a newswoman—or at least well-read.

America’s gone ‘Mad’ photo 1

Out of curiosity, I started again from the beginning and made a man of myself. This time, I had endless suit options, with various physiques to choose from, etc. I chose a Don Draper-like body (Who wouldn’t?), and again had difficulty with my male self’s hair. I chose wavy. When it came to accessories, again, I had options including a gun and accordion, as well as various briefcases, ties and beverages. The process, interestingly, went much quicker. I was surprised, however, to find that my scene or setting options were the same between men and women. They included the board room, the bedroom, the pool, a hotel room, a shrink’s couch, etc.

America’s gone ‘Mad’ photo 3

What’s the point? I found it very difficult to fit my modern perceptions into these narrow categories to develop my iconic avatar. Many of the characters on the show face the very same struggle. Mad Men straddles a world of traditional gender roles and rules, and a changing world in which those rules are constantly broken—true to the eras it portrays in the 1950s and 1960s. The show is made more complex by the fact that it self-consciously presents itself to a modern audience, and is most obviously written by writers with a modern view point. That gray matter, the ambiguity and the struggle are what make the show raw, fascinating and addictive.

However, the gray matter, the ambiguity and the struggle are also what make this show disturbing in its appeal. Rarely, does one find a night melodrama that manages to widely attract both men and women. Simply put: all men want to be lead character Don Draper; and all women want to have Don Draper. Similarly, I believe the male audience admires the sharp suits with a cigarette in one hand and a whisky in the other; the slickness with which men slip into inter-office affairs; and the authority men hold over women. Women, admire the feminine vintage styles; the nostalgic domesticity; and meanwhile, identify with the women’s struggle to breach an ever-towering glass ceiling.

I wonder what the appeal and influence of this show really is. In some ways, I think it puts order back into a world that is now somewhat disenfranchised when it comes to gender roles; at the same time, it calls into question the same question we are asking ourselves: “Am I a suit or a skirt?” and “What does that mean?”

It’s easy to blame feminism and the sexual revolution for a bewildered generation, but rather, I think we are still sifting through the revolution’s rubble and trying to make sense of the pieces. Instead of having nostalgia for an era that in some ways, I’d like to put behind us, I wish we were focusing more on how to rebuild. We can’t see through the ash because we’re facing some of the same problems.

Perhaps, the most revealing part about my avatar quest is that the image wound up looking more like old photographs of my mother at my age, than like me in the present day.

What would Freud say?

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

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A Gay Man Knows My Zip Code

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10/21/2010

A Gay Man Knows My Zip Code photo

Libby and Sam on the way to junior prom (and yes, Libby knows she has a serious Liza Minnelli thing happening).

When I was in high school, some friends and I piled into my best friend Sam’s mom’s minivan and drove from Oak Park to Chicago. Unlike previous trips to go to a show at the Metro or have coffee at Scenes, this time we were headed to a meeting for LBGT and questioning teens. And we were lost.

We pulled over to a pay phone to call for directions to Horizons. The man who answered the call was very nice, and as I was getting ready to hang up, he asked for my zip code. I gave it to him and then promptly lost my shit. I jumped back into the van and gasped, “You guys!!! A gay man knows my zip code!”

Saying my zip code out loud (which looking back seems like the least personal bit of information ever) reminded me that we could run into people from school, a fear I expressed and that Sam squashed with his usual good sense and quick wit.

Me: What if we see people we know?!
Sam: Remember when you were a kid and your mom would make you go shopping at Venture*? And, like, seeing someone from school was the worst thing ever?”
Me: Uh huh.
Sam: It’s like that—they’re at Venture too! So fuck it, who cares?

I have been thinking about high school a lot lately. It seems like you hear a new story every week about a gay kid being bullied and committing suicide. And with every story I get more pissed and more sad and more grateful.

What’s amazing about my story isn’t that life got better, it’s that high school life was pretty good. As a teenager in a typical suburban public school, I had a group of gay/supportive/bi/questioning friends with whom to leave our zip code and find the gays.

I can’t say where I would have been without them. I don’t think I would have been as hopeless as the kids we hear about in the news, seemingly, every day. I had liberal parents (but what teenager wants to talk to them?), grew up in a pretty open-minded community and had the benefit of being a girl.

I don’t know what the answer is for the kids who are suffering today. I’m sure that It Gets Better and Give a Damn and the Trevor Project are making an impact, and I’m so glad they are getting lots of press. And the wearing purple yesterday thing was cool, but I don’t know. I guess I just feel like what mattered the most for me was spending every day with a supportive, loving, crazy group of people—and as much as I wish you could, you can’t duplicate that online.

*For those who didn’t grow up with Venture, it’s like K-Mart but even dorkier. For example, you might want a Cabbage Patch Kid. You could go to Venture for a Turnip Child instead.

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Twitter 101

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10/20/2010

Twitter 101 photo

You’ve probably heard about Twitter, but may be afraid to ask exactly what it is and why anyone would use it. True, tweeting is in some ways just another internet vehicle to waste an inordinate amount of time, but it’s also a way to be more engaged in the Jewish community without leaving your laptop. (But don’t be a loser, leave your laptop).

First, some vocabulary.

Twitter: the company that runs the service in which users blog in 140 letters or less: twitter.com

Tweet: the 140 letter or less microblog that often includes links to a longer blog, video clips, photos or articles

Tweeter: one who tweets.

Name: name on twitter

Twitter Feed: Tweets that you see because you subscribe to their Tweeter

Follower: someone who subscribes to another person’s tweets

RT: when you retweet someone else’s tweet. You give the original person credit by putting the RT next to the username. Example: RT @OyChicago

TweetUp: a meeting between two or more tweeters in person.

Twitterverse: All the people who tweet. Stupid term used by classical media often said, “So Jerry, what is the twitterverse saying.”

Trending topics: topics that many Tweeters are talking about demarcated by a hashtag #. Example #Cutler was sacked again.

Twitter Platform: Companies that run the Twitter Service. The best analogy is you have a gmail account but check your email through Microsoft office.

There’s more to know, believe it or not, but this will get you started. Now, how can twitter make you a more engaged Jew? Jewish organizations, professionals and just members of the tribe often tweet Jewishly. They tweet about Israel, Judaism, Jewish conferences, Jewish events, anti-Semitism, Jewish food, etc. Although there is a time-suck element, I have learned a tremendous amount from Twitter and have been exposed to ideas and opinions that I would never have come across through my other virtual and live networks.

While twitter has not made me an entirely better person (I also follow some celebrities and cartoon characters) it has served to develop me as Jewish professional and member of the Jewish community. To see who I follow in the Jewish community, click here: http://twitter.com/#!/scarpetablog/jewy and to see what Oy!Chicago is up to on Twitter, click here: http://twitter.com/#!/OyChicago

Now it’s your turn. Tweet away!

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Cheers! Chicago: Trick or Treat edition

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10/19/2010

Cheers Chicago: Trick or Treat edition photo

Ah, the fall season—leaves changing to colors of the rainbow, the air getting brisk and windy—and, of course, Halloween! There is no other national holiday where adults and children can dress up for one day and just have fun. Of course, we Jews have Purim in the spring, filled with delicious hamentaschen, noisy graggers and of course, killer royalty costumes. So, in the spirit of the ghoulish holiday, I thought I’d reminisce on some of my fondest memories trick or treating and share some special moments I had with my two younger siblings.

As early as I can remember, I have dressed up for Halloween. I know this because my own mother won’t let me forget it, having photo albums detailing all of the awesome and decorative costumes my brother, sister and I used to wear. Lucky for us, despite growing up in the city, we lived in a condo building as well as on a block that was very kid-friendly for trick or treating, but it was not until my brother and I were around 10 that we were allowed to venture off on our own—together, of course—and see what trouble we could cause. Because my brother Jesse and I were so close in age, a lot of our costumes would either match or complement each other. For example, one year my brother and I had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles body suits / pajamas with masks and turtle shell candy bags. I was blue-colored Leonardo, the leader with the katana, my brother was yellow-colored Michelangelo with the nun chucks.

Back then, my sister was too young to go out with us, so while we went out candy-hunting she would help my parents pass out candy to other trick or treaters. Another year I dressed as Dick Tracy, to the nines! I donned the yellow suit, threw on the fedora cap, and wielded the toughest looking plastic tommy gun anyone could imagine. Pretty soon, my brother and I were the talk of the condo, setting the Halloween trends and always garnering the most attention, and therefore the most candy. Rain or snow, windy or cold, my brother and I braved the elements and triumphed like pirates after a hearty pillage. In the later years, our little sister Hayley would join us, inevitably in some royal or fairy type costume, on our annual candy hunt. It really was a great way for all three of us to grow closer and share an activity that all of us enjoyed.

After we’d return from our expeditions, Jesse and I would come back to the dining room table and dump everything out, immediately scoping out our favorites. Since we knew each other so well and which particular candies and sweets we each liked, we began the process of dividing everything up. I scrambled to snatch up all the Dots, Reese’s and Krackel/Hershey I could get my hands on, while Jesse went straight for the Pixie sticks, Gummy worms and Smarties. On occasion, we would come across a candy we’d never seen or heard of before (most likely from one of the houses that might be a little too old to know what treats young children like, if you catch my drift). When that would happen, guess where it went? Our little sister Hayley’s pile. This way, we never seemed neglectful or dismissive of our youngest sibling, and the candy we didn’t want was technically not going to waste (right?). After what seemed like hours of sorting, we finally had our candies all organized and lined up on the tabletop, which of course was followed by ravenous devouring and then extreme aching of the stomach.

As we got older, we still found ways to stay involved in the trick or treating festivities and dress up in something cool. I happened to find my way to the University of Wisconsin where Halloween was a sacred and timeless celebration amongst the students. While those parties were fun and festive (and a little out of control), I will always remember the good times I had trick or treating back home, from sloshing around in the rain in my ninja costume to divvying up the candy with my siblings. I will always have fond memories and hope to make more each and every October.

Speaking of having fun for Halloween, this year, if you are looking to have some fun and celebrate Halloween with a multitude of young, energetic Jewish partygoers, my close friends Brad and Brandon of Juicebox Promotions are throwing their annual shindig at Enclave. Tickets are cheap now so grab them and secure your night of fun and costume mayhem now: http://enclavechicago.com/horror/ These guys also throw other fun and festive seasonal bashes that do attract a large and rather young Jewish crowd, so don’t be shy and mingle and schmooze the night away this coming Halloween.

So, what are you going to be for Halloween?? I hope to see many of you out there in your costumes, or better yet, send Oy!Chicago some pictures of your wacky adventures and we will see who has the best costume!

L’Chaim!

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KITCHEN BOOTCAMP: Knives 101

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Attention home cooks: This is for you!
10/18/2010

KITCHEN BOOTCAMP photo 1

I went to help a friend make Roasted Butternut Squash Soup last week. She is always saying how much she loves the soup, but can’t seem to make it without all sorts of battle wounds and horror stories.

I walked into her gorgeous industrial quality kitchen and found an enormous pile of butternut squash. I asked for some sheet pans, cutting boards and a knife. She produced the sheet pans and cutting board and then this pathetic little knife. It was maybe four inches long, serrated, and with a chipped cheaply riveted handle. OY VEY!

How can anyone cut these rock-hard vegetables with this cheap little knife? She mentioned her fear of cutting her hand off (a reasonable fear) and how the little knife was easier. She also mentioned how she really hated cutting vegetables and usually just bought them pre-cut. OY VEY!

I launched into my speech about proper knives and how to use them, then I ran to my car and grabbed my knives (most chefs carry knives around with them) and a short time later had the squash under control and soup on the way.

Here is the abridged version of the knife lecture:

• Most people hate cutting/cooking because they do not like to struggle with food. Usually their knives are the culprit. A good knife will make cutting easier, safer and faster.

• A good knife will last a lifetime— I always say that your children will fight over the knives after you are long gone.

• A good knife is not cheap. A cheap knife is not a good knife.

• You do not need to buy a “knife set”. Most sets are priced attractively and include one or two great knives and then a bunch of knives that are odd sized and not very useful (thus the attractive price).

• Most homes only need a chef’s knife and a paring knife. With kosher kitchens, that makes two chef’s knives and two paring knives. If you are a die-hard home cook, then you can add boning knives, cleavers etc…P.S. a well-constructed knife can be kashered for Passover.

• Do not buy knives from cute college kids selling them during the summer. They are not good knives. Instead, buy a good knife and buy the scissors or steak knives that the cute college kid is selling. The scissors are OK.

How to hold your knife properly:

• Grip the kitchen knife with the last three fingers of your dominant hand. Slide your hand upwards towards the blade. Grasp the bolster of the blade with your thumb and forefinger. The bolster is the balance point and finger guard on the actual blade. Your thumb should rest on the bolster on one side, while your index finger holds it firm on the other side. Rest your last three fingers comfortably on the kitchen knife handle. Let your index finger and thumb control the knife. Hold the item to be cut in your other hand, curling your fingers under themselves and advancing the item with your thumb. Rest the blade against your fingers and chop.

• Take good care your knife and keep it sharp.

• The basic rule on which knife to use is: if you are cutting a large item, use a large knife and vice versa.

Places to buy knives in Chicago:

• Shop where the chefs shop. My favorite place to buy knives is Northwestern Cutlery. They have an amazing selection and will offer advice. They also sharpen knives while you wait.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

People get rhapsodic about this soup with its beautiful golden orange color and decadent creamy consistency. But, I know very few people who actually will make it for themselves at home. Have no fear. With the right tools for the job, this soup and most other heavy duty knife work recipes are a snap.

Frozen squash is fine for some soups and recipes but will not work for this soup. Roasting the squash gives the vegetables a deep nutty-sweet flavor and caramelization that cannot be achieved with frozen pieces. Some grocery stores offer pre-cut squash and that is a fine alternative to cutting your own. You still need to buy a decent knife though— you can thank me later.

Preheat oven to 350

2 medium whole butternut squash, cut in half and seeded *
1 large Spanish onion, cut into small dice
2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
2 ribs of celery, stringed and diced
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 pears, peeled and diced
Bouquet garni of thyme sprigs, parsley stems, 1 bay leaf
½ cup sherry
5 cups chicken stock or vegetable stock if making this soup dairy
½ cup cream (if making this soup dairy)
Salt and Pepper

1. Rub the cut side of the squash with olive oil and salt and pepper. Place the squash cut side down on a parchment lined baking sheet and roast for 45 minutes or until the squash is easily pieced with a paring knife. Allow to cool.

2. Heat a large soup pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Coat the bottom of the pot with olive oil. Sweat the onion, carrots, celery, and pears until they are soft and very fragrant. Scoop the squash from the skin and add it to the pot with the vegetables and pears. Add the bouquet garni.

3. Add the sherry and stock and bring the mixture to a simmer. Simmer for 45 minutes.

4. Remove the bouquet garni and puree the soup with an immersion blender.

5. Adjust the seasoning and garnish with toasted pumpkin or squash seeds, drizzled pumpkin seed oil, crème fraiche for dairy, curried shredded chicken, roasted pears or apples etc…. HAVE FUN WITH IT

*cutting vegetables that are odd shaped and roly-poly presents a culinary challenge-unless you have a good knife.

To cut butternut squash safely:

Cut off a think slice about ½ inch thick from each end of the top and bottom of the squash. This will make it the squash easier to stand up with out chasing it around the cutting board while it rolls away. It will also make it easier to cut straight down to the bulbous end by making the top more level and flat.

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Why there is a kernel of Russianness in me that just won’t go away

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10/13/2010

Why there is a kernel of Russianness in me photo

This year marks the 20th anniversary of Operation Exodus, a massive effort by the North American Jewish community to rescue and resettle more than 1 million Soviet Jews. Chicago welcomed more than 30,000 Russian-speakers.

You might wonder why a person named Jane Charney—such an American name—would be telling you about all the wonderful opportunities that Federation provides for the next generation of Russian-American Jews in Chicago.

In fact, I wasn’t always Jane Charney. When my family moved to the United States from Moscow nearly 14 years ago, we quickly adjusted our names to more English-friendly ones. Let’s face it, Yevgeniya Leonidovna Charnaya is a bit of a tongue-twister.
 
Although my family came to America after the major wave of immigration of the early 1990s, we experienced the impact of Operation Exodus firsthand. The community opened its arms to us and made us feel welcome. My sister and I enrolled in Jewish Sunday School. Our synagogue paired us with a Russian-speaking family that had lived in the States since 1989.

Once I got to Indiana University, I actively participated in Hillel, where I chaired the communications group and helped create IU’s first-ever Israel-palooza—a celebration of all things Israel in the middle of campus. From Friday night services to late-night study sessions to Israel advocacy, Hillel inspired a deeper connection to Jewish life in me.

After college, that connection translated into working in the Jewish Federation world. That’s one of the ways I can give back to a community that already has given me so much.

As American as I feel at times, there’s a kernel of Russianness in me that just won’t go away. I’ve turned it into an advantage: Over the past several years, I’ve put together workshops on identity and Russianness. I also led a trip for Russian-speakers to discover Jewish heritage in Spain.

Whether it’s been five or 15 years since immigrating to the States, many of my fellow Russian-speaking Jews also cherish some aspect of our Russianness—the language or the culture or the sheer wealth of jokes that simply do not translate well into English. At the same time, we live in the United States, we speak English with our friends, and our attitudes borrow from both our American education and our Russian-Jewish souls.

My peers want to find more ways to feel Jewish, to live Jewishly and to create Jewish connections. That’s where community institutions like Russian Hillel and the Federation’s Russian Jewish Leadership Forum come in.

I was part of a core group of nine Russian-speaking Jewish young professionals who formed RJLF about a year and a half ago. We recognized the need for a post-college bridge to the Jewish community that had a specifically Russian taste. Since then, together with JUF staff the nine of us have been creating events that bring together 20- and 30-something Russian-speaking Jews from around Chicago.

We’ve sponsored holiday celebrations with the Russian Senior Center at the Dina and Eli Field EZRA Multi Purpose Center, served meals at the Uptown Cafe, and packed food boxes with Maot Chitim at Passover time.  A group of RJLF leaders met with former Prison of Zion and current Israeli Minister of Public Affairs and Diaspora Affairs Yuli Edelstein. We’ve hosted receptions at the Standard Club, listened to Russian classical music at Ravinia, and gathered for professional networking events.

This year, in celebration of the 20th anniversary of Operation Exodus, my husband and I created and hosted an Exodus Seder for other RJLF participants. Our peers told their own personal stories of exodus. And another Russian Jewish communal worker, a JVS colleague, who had lived in refusal for 12 years, shared his story with the group.

In addition, as a group we have participated in larger community events, like Israel Solidarity Day, campaign phonathons and the Young Leadership Division’s Big Event.

Much like native-born Americans, RJLF participants represent all levels of religious observance and political affiliation. Some are single, some are married, and some have children.

Some participants are graduates of the Hillels Around Chicago’s Russian Hillel program, which was established seven years ago from a Federation-supported priority grant. Russian Hillel aims to connect Russian-speaking Jewish students to their Jewish identity, to the community and to each other.

RJLF was created in part as an outgrowth of this initiative and at the urging of some Russian Hillel graduates who were interested in remaining involved in the organized Jewish community after college. In fact, some of our participants and leaders come from Russian Hillel. But many others came to us through friends or Facebook. Still others found us out of a desire for a Russian Jewish community after they relocated to Chicago.

The response to RJLF has been significant. So much so that we recently decided to expand the leadership opportunities for our activists and develop an RJLF Leadership Council. It will give more participants the chance to take ownership of the group as we connect to our Jewish identity and our Jewish community in Chicago.

On Sept. 15, Jewish Agency for Israel Chairman Natan Sharansky spoke to a crowd of 1,200 at the Federation’s Annual Meeting. He focused on the power of Jewish identity and the notion of peoplehood, a sense of Jewish connectedness. That’s the message we take with us as we move forward and develop our activities for the next generation of Russian-speaking Jews in Chicago.

A muscovite by birth, Jane Charney immigrated to the United States in 1996.

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Why I hate The Biggest Loser

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10/14/2010

Why I hate The Biggest Loser photo

Unrealistic expectations kill more diets than Häagen-Dazs.  People watch the show “The Biggest Loser” (TBL) and want to drop some serious pounds yesterday.  I’m all for jump starting your fitness plan but the show is ridiculous.  Most of the contestants gain either part, or all the weight back.  I’m not saying the show doesn’t change people’s lives, because it does. It does an incredible job educating people and the trainers beat the contestants as if they’re preparing a montage for a new Rocky movie.

As you sit on your couch and watch for two hours as obese contestants drop up to 30 lbs in one week, remember its television.  Dropping 30 lbs in one week is not normal or healthy.  Most nutritionists and weight loss experts will tell you that losing 1-2 lbs per week is the healthiest way to drop weight and keep it off. A few basic reasons that slow and steady wins the race:

• If you lose the weight too quickly, there’s a greater chance you’ll gain it back
• Slow and subtle changes are easier to maintain than drastic changes
• For the most part, your skin can adjust and you’ll have less extra skin

More importantly, who can exercise for 6-8 hours a day? Unless you’re a professional athlete or have no job most of us have maybe an hour a day—and if you have children, even that’s a stretch.  And they have personal trainers, every day! And who has money for that? (If you can afford to have a trainer for several hours a day, please call me and we’ll set up a consult ASAP.)

Another thing that really bothers me—these workouts are incredibly intense, at least what they show on TBL. Going from inactive to Mike “the Situation” type workouts is not healthy.  The chance for injury is extremely high with jumping, kettle bells, and running. I’m not saying you need to do chair aerobics, but first master good form, improve your posture, and then we can kick it up TBL style.

Intense working out is only part of the equation. The other crucial side of weight loss is eating a healthy diet.  On TBL they have chefs cooking up meals for each contestant.  Based on tests and doctors, these people are eating the foods that will help them burn calories and digest food best.

Who does that for you?  I’m my wife’s personal chef, but that’s only good for 2-3 meals a week (and she doesn’t like leftovers).  I don’t have time to make us every meal and no one is about to turn down a business dinner at N9ne for my chicken, broccoli and sweet potatoes.  As healthy as you try to eat, these reality show contestants are probably eating healthier. When they go home, the story changes—they have to start thinking about cooking, spices, fats, oils…

The show would be a lot more realistic if the contestants were not away from home. It’s like the Bachelor—who doesn’t find love on a private Island, but they all come home and suddenly the wedding is off.  Reading this, you might think, wow, Ron watches a lot of reality television, which is partially true. The moral of the article? Set realistic goals, and make small changes that are easy to keep.  Send me your easy healthy tips, here are a few of mine:

• Avoid processed meats
• Drink a glass of water before each meal
• Take the steps/the long way/the farthest parking spot
• Pack healthy snacks with you (an apple and some nuts)
• Pop Chips instead of potato chips
• Have vegetables and protein with each meal
• Eat fruit when you are craving something sweet

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Finding community

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I went to D.C. to learn Jewishly, and left with a new group of friends 
10/15/2010

Finding community photo 1

New friends, about to go on a midnight boat cruise on the Potomac River

At the end of August, I went on a five-day, all expenses paid trip to Reston, Virginia. I stayed at a very nice Hyatt, hung out with over 100 other college students/recent graduates, ate a ton of delicious food, and…

Wait. I know I did something else. What was it?

Oh yeah. I attended classes and lectures and discussions on different aspects of being Jewish.

You see, I was attending the fifth annual Sinai Scholars Retreat, as a part of the National Jewish Retreat. I had taken the Sinai Scholars class during the school year at Northwestern’s Chabad house, where we delved deep into each of the Ten Commandments every week. It was really interesting, and helped to relate the Commandments to my life in a modern way, which I had never really thought was possible before. So when I was accepted to go on the retreat, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Yes, I knew there would be classes about Jewish things…but that’s really all I knew going in. I had no idea what kinds of classes would be offered, what they would be about, what I would be doing in the five days that I would be there. I was blindly boarding an airplane by myself, with no expectations. So I buckled up, put my seat and tray table in their upright positions, and took a deep breath.

And I am so glad I did. The next five days were a whirlwind of amazing people, subjects, and food.

Oh the food. I could write a full post on just the food! There was a 24-hour buffet of delicious snacks and desserts in the lobby, there were pretty much four huge meals everyday, different themed dinners…I was in food heaven! But I digress.

Finding community photo 3

The girls on Shabbat

As for the classes, we were given a program in the beginning of the retreat with our choices of what we could attend. For each time slot, there were about 3-5 different discussions, lectures, workshops, and classes to choose from. The choices ranged from the Iranian Nuclear Threat, to Quantum Physics of the Torah, to one of my personal favorites, From Krakow to Krypton: Jews, Comics, and the Creation of the Superhero. There were classes on love, humor, history, and even yoga! There were workshops where you could bake challah, make your own shofar, write your Hebrew name on parchment like real scribes do. Sometimes I had trouble choosing just one class to go to. But then, other times, like at nine in the morning, the quantum physics of the Torah was only just defeated by the idea of an extra hour and fifteen minutes of sleep.

That’s right. I am freely admitting that in the face of all this culture and learning, a few times I chose to skip a class and sleep. Not just in the morning, too. I also skipped a class time and napped during the middle of the first full day. I was so tired from my flight the day before, and I was still getting over a nasty little virus that had been plaguing my immune system for a while. So yes, I feel no shame in confessing that I played hooky to get some well-needed shut-eye.

And you know what? I honestly don’t think I “didn’t get the most out of my weekend” like the Rabbis and their wives stressed the first day during orientation when they told us to attend EVERY. SINGLE. CLASS. OFFERED. I could have either sat through a lecture that I would fall asleep in anyways, thereby offending the guest lecturer, or I could really enjoy my weekend to the best of my ability. And that’s exactly what I did. Because even though I didn’t attend EVERY. SINGLE. CLASS. OFFERED…I did find my own Jewish community.

I met a great group of people around my age from colleges all over the country. We became super close, and even took off during Saturday to spend a few hours roaming around (aka trying to find where we parked our car) in downtown D.C. We hung out at night together after dinner, and by the end of the trip we were all promising to visit each others’ respective schools/hometowns.

Finding community photo 2

Our group out and about in DC for the day

This experience really cemented my theory that being around Jewish people, regardless of if what you are doing together is religious in any way, reinforces your own Jewish-ness. Just by forming your own little Jewish community, you are tied that much closer to your religion.

So while I could write an entire post on the classes I attended, and all the new ideas that were presented to me (like I had originally planned for this post), I realized along the way that the most important thing to take away from this retreat is that by surrounding yourself with a solid group of Jewish friends, you are that much closer to your religion. And really, that is what matters most.

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How to play “Bubbie BINGO”

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10/11/2010

How to play “Bubbie BINGO” photo

My wife, Elisheva, and I were on our way to stay with my folks for Rosh Hashannah. It’s a six-hour drive from Chicago to Cleveland, but we knew it would take longer this time because we were bringing our newborn and our puppy.

The other thing that would be different this time is that both of my grandmothers, now widowed, would also be staying with my parents.

So my wife, who was driving, expressed her concern to me that this holiday would be nothing but a stream of criticism aimed at her. She listed the topics she was sure she would be criticized about.

Maybe it was being on the road, but I flashed on the idea of Car BINGO. You know, the game to keep kids busy in the back seat before they had individual DVD players for them built into the car. Car BINGO is played by the kids looking out the windows and checking off, on a card, things they might see— a cow, an oil truck, a campground billboard— instead of a caller yelling out “N-34!” First one to fill their card and yell “BINGO!” wins.

So I said, “Why don’t we make a game out of this criticism thing? Every time you get criticized on one of these areas, we’ll call out the corresponding letter. First one to BINGO wins.” Here’s what we came up with:

B was for Baby. When a grandmother criticized Elisheva for how she cared for the baby, we would each try to be the first to call out “B!”

I was for Injury. My wife had complications from her C-section including a poorly-healing incision, a wrenched shoulder, and nerve damage in her leg. Any criticism on how she was managing the pain, or dealing with doctors on the subject, would result in us calling out “I!”

N was for Nursery. Elisheva works from home but does intensely detailed financial work. She is also on the road several days each month. So she put our two-month-old in day care, which was sure to elicit some “tsk”-ing from my bubbies. Were that to happen… “N!”

G was for Good-for-Nothing— i.e., the dog. Any negative comments on the fact of having a dog, or the danger a dog could pose to the baby, could trigger us racing to call out “G!”

O was for Obesity. My wife gained a perfectly normal, healthy amount of weight during her pregnancy, but was unable to work out to get rid of it— see entry “I” above. Still, she expected to hear about how she had not lost the weight a full two months after the baby was born. If she did… “O!”
 
We had prizes, too. If she tallied a full BINGO from one grandmother, I was to buy Elisheva any and all snacks she wanted when we went to the roller derby for her upcoming birthday weekend. If she won the coveted “Double-Bubbie BINGO,” and racked up full BINGOs from both grandmothers first, I also had to take her to a movie on her actual birthday.

If I called out a full BINGO first, she was going to bake me cookies for my upcoming birthday. If I “doubled,” then I got a cake.

Both of my grandmothers wear hearing aids, and had no idea we were doing this. My parents never asked about it either, if they even noticed.

As it happened, my grandmothers surprised us and largely kept their opinions to themselves. Yes, we were each able to call out a few letters each for each of them. But not a full BINGO from either.

Elisheva did rack up more letters than I did, so we declared her the winner, and I am still taking her to a movie. Poor me.

Reframing the oncoming criticisms as a game and contest made the whole ordeal much more bearable and even enjoyable. When a sensitive topic came up, instead of bracing for impact and readying our defenses, we instead tensed like game-show contestants clutching our buzzers in eagerness. And instead of cursing under our breaths, we giggled to ourselves.

I highly recommend “Bubbie BINGO” to any and all couples visiting relatives, or having such relatives visit them. It works for in-laws, too, and whether or not you have kids.

Come to think of it, you might even need the game because you have no kids.

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The business of marriage

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10/08/2010

The business of marriage photo

Back in July 2006, my husband-to-be and I got a lot of advice.  Most was to the tune of, “It takes a lot of hard work to maintain a healthy marriage.”  We scoffed at the cliché.  We were in love, he had cute dimples and I had cute ways of getting him to stop being annoyed with me.  Besides, equating marriage with work made it sound like a business transaction – how unromantic could these people be?

A heated argument four years later about a spoon got me thinking about that old cliché.

Joe and I were going at it about why he was always finding a used spoon on the counter when I realized that my formerly cute feminine wiles were no longer living up to their past glory.  Silliness and charm had gotten me pretty far, but in my quick mental recap of our last few spats, it became clear that it was our combined powers of negotiation and compromise that had gotten us safely to the other side of our arguments.

Negotiation and compromise, though not as much fun as flashing the dimples, require both parties to put forth a certain amount of effort.  From issues as seemingly small as a casual misplacement of a spoon to issues as silly as “should we get the kid a haircut now that people have referred to him as “her?” (I say no, Joe says yes) to issues as serious as whether or not we should buy a house, we have slowly learned about the “business” of marriage.

I’m still not willing to call marriage “work” but I acknowledge now that simply being in love will not get a couple through some of the rough patches.  Luckily, though, those rough patches – and the negotiations, compromises, dimple flashing and feminine wile-ing that go along with them – may be what bring the couple closer together in the long run.

For the record, I have agreed to move the offending spoons to the dishwasher immediately after stirring my coffee.

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The Unfunniest Thing in the World

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10/07/2010

The Unfunniest Thing photo

I’m going to say it up front: I’ve been wrestling with my Oy! articles lately. My intentions were good. I wanted to highlight two very important health awareness months, both of which have particular resonance in the Jewish community. This month is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, as we know from the flurry of pink everywhere from snack wrappers to football uniforms. September was National Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, and I was going to review Gilda Radner’s autiobiography,  It’s Always Something .

I would hope that everyone knows who Gilda Radner is, but in case you don’t, Gilda was a Not Ready for Prime Time Player, a member of the original cast of Saturday Night Live, along with Dan Ackroyd, John Belushi, Jane Curtain, Bill Murray, Chevy Chase and the rest of the greats. She’s responsible for some of the most classic sketches and characters that have ever aired on TV, including Emily Litella, Roseanne Roseannadanna, Baba Wawa and many others. Some of her SNL highlights are available for free on Hulu. Definitely watch a few of those, because it gives context for the rest of this.

Gilda Radner died of ovarian cancer in May 1989. She was 42. Her health had started deteriorating in cyclical, baffling ways in 1985, and she wasn’t diagnosed until October of the following year, when her cancer was already well along. Ovarian cancer is notoriously hard to catch early, and notoriously hard to treat. As she relates the parade of symptoms in her book, I felt myself wanting to scream at her doctors. It’s ovarian cancer! Why can’t you catch it? Why can’t you save her? The symptoms are clear with hindsight, and because it’s my job to talk about these things, I recognize them before she even says the words “ovarian cancer.” But as she tries to figure out why she is in chronic pain, why she is sick all the time, she hears a litany of brush-offs and excuses: it’s female hysteria. It’s the Epstein-Barr virus. It’s a diet issue. The search for answers is stressful just to read about.

Here’s my confession. I couldn’t continue reading. The book is sitting in front of me right now, a flyer stuck about a third of the way in. By this point, Gilda has begun treatment. She describes the indignities of her body betraying her, her personal terrors and rages and despairs, the work of the nurses and physicians and counselors, and the support of her husband, Gene Wilder. And of course, she’s as funny as she is honest. This is Gilda Radner we’re talking about.

Reading this book was hitting me hard, though. Out of the blue, in March 2008, we found out that my mother had brain cancer, and while our family has been lucky, knock on wood, I know there are a lot of things I haven’t confronted or dealt with yet. But even though cancer affects everyone, really, it’s the person who has the cancer who goes through the most. The truth is that I’m ashamed of my inability to keep reading Gilda’s book. I don’t feel like I have the right to put it down.

Today Breast Cancer Awareness Month is a week old. We’re going to continue to see pink, or wear pink, or buy pink. Last month, the Chicago skyline was teal at night, the “ovarian cancer color.” Certainly awareness is a huge step forward. Being able to talk about cancer publically is a new, groundbreaking thing for our society. Ask your parents how often people talked about cancer, or called it by name, even when someone died from it. Given how freely we discuss it today, their answers may shock you.

Color coordinating, however, is only the first step. When we talk about cancer awareness, we need to really talk about it. Ashkenazi Jews are at an increased risk for mutations in their BRCA genes, a topic I’ve touched on before. These mutations can put women at high risk for developing, at a young age, breast or ovarian cancer or both. Learn about the signs. Learn about the symptoms. Learn about breast self-exams and pap smears and mammogram recommendations and family health histories and peer advocacy. Seek out ways to support survivors, previvors and those who are currently fighting. These links are a good place to start for information; for the people in your life who have been affected by cancer, start by asking them what they need and go from there.

Gilda Radner was Jewish. She had painful periods her whole life, as well as cysts in her breasts from a young age. Her family had a history of hereditary cancers. When I read that, I was overwhelmed. Why didn’t anyone tell you? I thought, but of course, it was a different time, and they didn’t know what we know today.

Gilda called cancer “the most unfunny thing in the world.” She’s right on the nose about that. We have the opportunity to talk about it. This month, and every month, I hope we do.

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From JUF to MOM: leaving one Jewish profession for another

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10/06/2010

From JUF to MOM photo 1

Next week I am voluntarily walking away from the most Jewish part of my life – my job as Senior Program Specialist at the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago. Never mind that my job title gives little indication of what work I actually do. In this building, there are lots of Jews and a few non-Jews doing good work for people in need of support, basic needs, a Jewish connection. In Chicago, in Israel, around the world. There is a culture of family, where the gossip is based on genuine interest and not malicious rumor. It’s a place where people help lift each other up if you’re having a bad day, bring flowers to the Shiva for your grandfather, and artfully wrap up homemade sweaters for your baby girls. Don’t get me wrong, it is not some idyllic Eden – just a nice place to work. There is still some yelling and frustration and those dramatic people who send beeping emails in large text because it is just so important to know that a meeting you are not attending has been moved from one room to the one next door. You know, the stuff of extra high importance.

Which brings me to the reason I am walking away from all this – the real red exclamation point, highly important, top of the priority list reason: my daughters. I feel lucky to have this once in a lifetime opportunity to spend my days with Violet and Autumn while they are still small, teaching them how to walk, talk, and fall in love with life. I am bursting at the seams to take on this new challenge.

Still, I will miss seeing my brilliant colleagues at the Federation every day. I will miss this built-in Jewish community. Yesterday, on one of my final morning commutes, I realized that I can no longer fall back on my place of employment as my Jewish connection. I have to find it somewhere else, or it will not exist for me, for Mandi, or for our daughters. For the first time in my adult life I am faced with prioritizing, or not prioritizing, my Jewish identity. Where does it fall on the list? There’s only so much time in a day, in a week, in a year. There are so many family members to visit in Wisconsin, so many museums to explore, so many friends to keep up with. Time is marching one foot in front of the other relentlessly, despite my grabbing at its heels and urging it to slow down so I can fit just one more thing into each day. I know that it will feel like suddenly the girls are in school, graduating, having their own children (if they want to, no pressure V and A), just as some days I feel like I have been suddenly launched forward seven years since my first awkward day at the Jewish Federation, into the body of a more confident, more grounded me.

After my last day of work, my Jewish life will consist of excitedly tearing open the monthly PJ Library package and reading Jewish stories before bed each night. We will attend JUF Book Buddies events when it works with the girls’ nap schedule. And we will look into Jewish preschool when that time comes in a very short while. I’m not sure how we will stay in the amorphous “affiliated” category after that, but from my experience here in my Federation community, I find comfort in the fact that there is a strong and welcoming Jewish community in Chicago. Being part of this community working toward a broader mission of tikkun olam is something I’ll bring with me and infuse into my family wherever we end up – in three years, five years, ten years, or tomorrow.

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Card carrying member

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10/05/2010

Abby Sher photo

I’ve always wanted to belong.

To the Girl Scouts. The band. The cool kids who wore CB ski jackets and made out by the gazebo. In college it was the improv troupe, the choir, sometimes Hillel House. More often, the cool kids who drank wine coolers and espresso and tried to reinvent Plato by the bike racks. After graduation, I joined another theater, got a membership to a gym, my own account at Blockbuster, First Chicago Bank. To this day, I get a thrill from flipping open my wallet to reveal my bright green library card, my insurance card, my ten-cups-of-coffee-and-the-eleventh-is-on-us card. I treasure and maybe idealize the notion that there is a greater whole, a group of doctors or books or cups of coffee that know me, care about me, count me as one of their flock.

So it’s embarrassing to admit that I have not belonged to a temple since 1991. That’s when I moved from Westchester, New York, to start at University of Chicago. We had a family membership at Larchmont Temple, the reform synagogue in my town where my mom helped found the nursery school and I was Bat Mitzvahed. I never made an active choice to apply – I was just brought in and accepted. But once I moved to the Midwest, I became a Jewish drifter. Catching the Shehechyanu here and a Dayeinu there. Every once in a while dropping off some canned yams for a yearly food drive or writing a check for $36 around Rosh Hashanah, but really living and worshipping off the kindness of strangers.

In Hyde Park, I used my student status as an excuse. I went to the campus synagogue now and then, mostly treating it like another language class since the prayer books had a lot more Hebrew than the one I’d grown up with. My first job out of college was up in Evanston, so I snuck into a local shul there and found a new twinge of delight from being completely anonymous. Walking outside on a breezy Yom Kippur afternoon, I remember feeling energized by my solitude, and yet still connected by a minor chord that everyone was singing. Together.

I joined the Second City family in the late 90’s, and the beautiful, generous producer emeritus Joyce Sloane took me under her wing for the High Holidays. She often wears large wool shawls and she literally tucked me in to her warm bosom as we sat next to each other at Anshe Emet in Wrigleyville. She insisted I nap on her day bed before we returned for Neilah services.

I moved back to New York in 2004 just days before my mother died. My father had passed away years before, my siblings had settled in other towns so our family status at Larchmont Temple was extinct. I moved in with my raised-Catholic-but-now-toying-with-atheism boyfriend in Brooklyn, feeling achingly adrift. I joined a yoga studio. I collected more of those coffee cards. I got a monthly metrocard and made sure I used one train for all my commuting needs even if it meant walking a half-hour across town to get to my temp job. I avoided temple for most of the year, then usually found my way to a cousin’s seder or a friend’s break the fast. Whenever I crept into the back row of a new synagogue, I made sure to leave without exchanging any hello’s or making eye contact with the clergy.

Sure there’s been a financial aspect to my drifter status. How can I commit to annual dues when I don’t know how often I’ll get to services and don’t even know what they serve at oneg? There’s also the pull to be anonymous again, to ride of that sea of voices, maybe even allowing me to join in louder because – hey, these people don’t know me. And there’s sheer laziness. Every Rosh Hashanah I slip into a different folding chair and then promise myself this time I’m going to stay. I’m also going to read Thomas Friedman’s From Beirut to Jerusalem and keep up with the general elections and/or bake chicken on Friday nights. None of which I’ve come close to doing since I left Westchester in 1991.

Which brings me back to Larchmont Temple. This year, the Tuesday before Yom Kippur I emailed my rabbi from childhood. I know it’s last minute, but any chance you’d have an empty seat if I promise to stay awake for the sermon? He wrote back immediately: Of course. Would love to see your punim. Ticket will be by the Willow Street entrance, where you used to creep in late to Hebrew School.

Though the sanctuary has been renovated and most of the members were new to me, I wept gratefully, hearing the familiar chords from the piano, gazing at the white embroidered Torah covers, the sun catching in the same stained glass I’d seen for my first 18 years of life. It was just as warm and soothing as I’d remembered it. I saw many of my parents’ friends, some now toting grandchildren. I tried to pick out who was there from my Hebrew school class and whether they were here just for a visit? To live here more permanently? Or maybe somewhere in between…

My rabbi spoke about Zionism and Judaism and how the newest generation of young adult Jews – the campers and confirmation classes he instructs – have no concept of Israel as their home. I can’t say that I do either. Friedman still sits on my shelf. I catch bits and pieces of the current peace talks in the news and struggle with how to trace it back to Israel’s birth 62 years ago. I listened to my rabbi and now good friend describe essentially me – an adolescent in grown up clothes, still unsure of what and where constitutes my Jewish home.

So this is my New Year’s Resolution numero alef for 5771. I am going to join a congregation this year. It could be Larchmont Temple, though I think the commute from Brooklyn would be hard with two kids in diapers. More likely it will be one of the doors I’ve walked through in Ft. Greene – my neighborhood for the past six and a half years and hopefully for many more. Maybe it will be Union Temple, where Rabbi Goodman’s words have challenged me to think about my role in health care reform. Or the Brooklyn Jews’ congregation led by Marc Katz and Jennifer Gubitz, who’ve welcomed me at Rosh Hashanah in the picnic house at Prospect Park, even inviting me onto the bima to be part of an aliyah for new mothers. Or maybe it will be somewhere I’ve never been to before. Where I am an anonymous voice, singing loudly. And I return. I say hello, and thank you. I commit to sharing in this sacred spiritual practice.

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An Interview with Jewish Sports Hall of Famer Shawn Lipman

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09/29/2010

While we’re all still on a high from the big Bears’ win this weekend, let’s talk rugby. Recently, The Great Rabbino caught up with Shawn Lipman, arguably the greatest Jewish rugby player of all time. That's right rugby. If you haven't played or seen rugby you should. It is brutal. Real tough athletes who lay it all on the line. Thank you to my correspondent Rabbi Erez Sherman for setting this up.

Tell us a little bit about yourself?
I was born in Johannesburg, South Africa and developed a love for rugby, the national pastime, at a young age. Rugby was not a sport that was generally played by Jews, but I loved it.

I joined Wits University Rugby Club at the Under 20 level in 1983 on a Rugby scholarship, from Sandringham High School, where I was a first team (varsity) player, having received full colors (awarded to selected best players) in Rugby. I represented Transvaal Under 20s (Provincial All Stars, highest level in South Africa for my age group) whilst playing at university, and also South Africa in the Maccabiah Games in 1985.

I emigrated to the United States at the end of 1985 and joined the Santa Monica Rugby Club where I immediately made lifelong friends. Through my selection to the regional All Star teams, I was selected to play on the US National Team in 1988, earning my first cap (full international) against Canada, who we beat for the first time in many attempts. I traveled all over the world with the US National Team and represented the United States in the 1991 Rugby World Cup in England, the third largest sporting event in the world. I represented the US team in over 20 international matches, including nine test matches, and was fortunate enough to play against some of the best national teams and players in the world, including the New Zealand All Blacks, England and France.

I played in five World Maccabiah Games (held every four years in Israel) as a player, having captained the US team in 1993 and 1997, and represented the US in 1989 and South Africa in 1985. I was selected as MVP of the Maccabiah Games Rugby Event in 1989, 1993, and 1997. In the Maccabiah competition, we won gold in 1985; bronze in 1989; silver in 1993 and gold in 1997 (the first time South Africa did not win the tournament). The biggest honor was being elected as the Flag Bearer for the entire US delegation in 1997. Unfortunately it was marred by a bridge collapse at the opening ceremony where some members of the Australia delegation died.

In 2009, I came out of retirement at the age of 44 to represent the US at the Maccabiah Games, winning a bronze medal. This culminated a 24 year career of playing at the Maccabiah Games, winning two gold, one silver, and two bronze medals, and three MVPs.

I also toured South Africa in 1988 with the Pacific Coast Grizzlies, playing against the best teams in South Africa. My rugby career allowed me to play all over the world against international sides, and took me to places like Russia, Japan, Canada, South Africa, France, England, Israel, Scotland, and Bermuda.

I was inducted into the Jewish Sports Hall of Fame  in 2004 along with some of the best professional athletes in the United States, including Mark Spitz and Sandy Koufax, amongst many other great Jewish sports stars. I also earned the MVP of the Year award at the Santa Monica Rugby Club eight times and in 2006 was also inducted into that club’s Hall of Fame.

I married my wife Karen in 1994, who I originally met in 1988, and we have three awesome kids, Scott, 15, Jamie, 12, and Lindsay, 9.

What makes rugby such a great sport? How does it compare to football?
Rugby is probably one of the most grueling sports in the world. It requires significant endurance and strength, as you have to play both offense and defense with no timeouts and very little stoppage of play. The very physical nature of the game creates an environment where no player can hide and the true character of each player comes out. Through this test of will and courage, tremendous bonds are made with teammates and lifelong friendships are formed. Prima Donnas are not tolerated and are exposed through the demanding requirements of the game.

Football is a very tough game as well. However it is a burst sport, where the maximum exertion is used in short furious bursts. The game has a tremendous amount of specialization, with a great deal of emphasis on each play. Rugby, while requiring a variety of different skills and physiques in different positions, is a game of continuous attrition where capitalizing on a teams weaknesses and mistakes through continuity of play and possession of the ball is the key to success. No timeouts and no substitutes.

That being said, I think it would have been fun to have played football. I think I would have liked it.

What can the sport do to get more national exposure?
With rugby having been added to the 2016 Olympic Games we are already starting to see a great deal of interest. Major networks like NBC are starting to televise more rugby, and as we get closer to the Olympics we should expect to see much more. Now we have top athletes who have just missed the cut in the NFL or NBA, seeing rugby as a vehicle to continue their professional sporting careers and potentially be Olympians. The US National Team is now starting to attract these top athletes more than ever before.

Also, with the tremendous commercial success and following of rugby outside of the US, and it's inclusion in the Olympics, corporate sponsors are going to be eager to capitalize on the growth of the sport.

There has also been a huge upsurge in the amount of youth and college programs in the country, and that is ultimately where the growth will come from.

How was the experience of playing in the Maccabiah games?
My involvement in the games has had a profound effect on me. As a Jewish athlete playing a sport not usually played by Jews, it was a lonely place. There was always the sense that, as a Jew, you were not good enough. It seemed that I was always fighting the stereotype of the weak Jew who could not play sports. And then I went to the Maccabiah Games, and here there were thousands of Jewish athletes from all over the world; excellent athletes, and in some cases world-renowned Olympians, all with a commonality and shared experience. It was amazing to be with all these world class Jewish athletes.

It felt like we were sticking it to anyone who ever tried to perpetuate the myth that Jews could not play sports and were fundamentally weak, especially with the games being held in Israel, in the midst of all their enemies.

Having experienced the same feeling that other great Jewish athletes like Mark Spitz, Mitch Gaylord, Lenny Krayzelberg, Kerri Strug, Jason Lezak , all Great gold medal-winning Olympians, is truly life affirming, and having been selected as the US delegations flag bearer at the Opening Ceremonies in 1997 was a highlight of my sporting career.

What was it like being inducted into the Jewish Sports Hall of Fame?
It was surreal. Here I was, an immigrant from Johannesburg, South Africa, being inducted into the company of some of the greatest American sporting figures in history. To be in the same company of Sandy Koufax, Hank Greenberg, Mark Spitz, Sarah Hughes, Jason Lezak, Red Auerbach, Marv Levy, Howard Kossell and so many more, is unreal to me.

I am very proud that we have a Jewish rugby player in the Hall of Fame as it gives our sport the recognition it deserve and in some way I am merely a representative of so many other great Jewish rugby players in the US.

Having many of my teammates from Santa Monica Rugby Club and the US Maccabiah team, come out to New York for the induction, as well as my family, was a great thrill.

I think it is so important that young Jewish athletes can look at these inductees and realize that there are no limits to what they can achieve and that it does not have to come at the expense of their Jewish identity.

What are you up to these days?
On the personal side, I try and spend as much time with my family as possible. I have an amazing wife, Karen, who was a four-time All American swimmer in college. My oldest son Scott is playing football as a high school freshman, my middle son Jamie is also playing football now for his middle school team, and my 9-year-old daughter is a wonderful soccer player. I have coached all my kids and still coach my daughter. I have also been very involved in coaching youth rugby in the San Fernando Valley.

I am actually distributing a great rugby-themed movie that a close rugby friend of mine wrote and directed. The movie will be launched through a very focused Internet campaign and initially distributed through online streaming and downloads. Anyone who watches the movie will earn a chance to win a free trip for two to New Zealand next year during the rugby world cup. The movie is called Play On and is available at www.playonthemovie.com. It is a very fun project and obviously a labor of love.

Other than that I still play rugby and squash every Sunday on the beach in Santa Monica. I am also a partner with a lifelong friend and business partner in a Private Equity Firm called The KJL Group.

Thank you to Shawn Lipman for giving us some insight to your career and the sport.

And Let Us Say, Amen.
-Jeremy Fine
For more on Jewish sports checkout WWW.THEGREATRABBINO.COM

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Sukkot: only a man would time this holiday

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09/28/2010

Sukkot photo

Well, here we are: six days into Sukkot, and my undecorated, we-haven’t-had-one-meal-in-its-blue-tarp-walls sukkah stands on my deck, waiting like a girl on prom night for her date to show.

It’s just so sad.

Each time I look out the kitchen window and see the lonely little structure, I feel a serious pang of guilt.  In that brief moment I have the urge to go get some construction paper and make paper chains—the extent of my artistic abilities.  But then, something distracts me and I don’t think about it until I see it again, or am standing in someone else’s beautifully decorated sukkah and am beset with sukkah envy and guilt.

Goddamn sukkah.

(I know, I know.  It’s not the sukkah, it’s me.)

It wasn’t always like this.  I wasn’t always like this.  I used to be ready for the holidays.  Before I converted, you should have seen my Christmas tree each year, the meticulously-wrapped presents under it, and the decorations in my condo.  Both my husband and I assumed that I would transfer my holiday-decorating energy to Sukkot, and we would have one heck of sukkah.

Of course, I was single then, and didn’t have a 19-month old daughter, and a house sorely in need of updating.

It’s not that I don’t like Sukkot.  In fact, it’s one of my favorite holidays.  My first trip to Israel coincided with the festival, and I was taken by the feeling of celebration all around me, seeing the families walking together carrying their lulavs and etrogs.  I vowed on that trip that when I had a house that I would have a sukkah and make decorating it and eating in it a part of my family’s tradition.

And I really meant to make that happen this year.  I figured last year’s pathetically decorated sukkah that we only ate in once was an exception since it rained every day and we literally had just moved into our house the week before.  Surely, this year would be different.

But here I am, midway through, and it’s actually worse than last year.  I’ve had lots of meals in other people’s beautiful sukkahs, but not one meal in ours.  (At least I have ‘dwelled’ in a sukkah, even if it hasn’t been ours.)

This year, I’m blaming the timing of the holidays.

I mean, c’mon, we just had Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  After all the preparations and hosting out-of-town-guests, I am exhausted.  This just reinforces my personal belief that the Torah was written by men (or if you believe God wrote the Torah, evidence God thinks like a man) because, let’s face it, a woman would know better than to bunch holidays back-to-back like this.

I’m burned out, Jewed out, and the last thing I want on my plate are more Jewish holidays.

This is not good.

Because, despite all my legitimate reasons for abandoning our sukkah, the fact of the matter is that I am shirking an obligation that I clearly feel (otherwise I wouldn’t feel this guilt), and along with it, the opportunity to create an important family tradition.  Being Jewish, living Jewishly, isn’t always convenient.  In fact, it is often a pain in the tuchas.  A pain that I asked for, and a responsibility that I have embraced.  And I’m lucky to do so.

So tonight, no matter what the weather (and it’s not looking good), I am going to eat in our sukkah, shake the lulav, and recite the blessings.  I know that it doesn’t matter that I haven’t had time to make it pretty, that I will probably freeze my ass off, or that 2 minutes in my daughter will be demanding the etrog, thinking it’s a ball to play with.  I will have dwelled, and damnit, I will be happy about it.  I will have fulfilled a promise that I made to myself, and performed an obligation that I feel as a Jew.

I might even hang a paper chain.

NEXT year I hope to have a beautiful sukkah that my whole family helped to decorate, and that it becomes a family tradition.  I know the timing of the holidays will never change, but maybe with a little bit of planning, I can pull it off.

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Mazel Tov Caroline and Jason!

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Oy!Chicago’s first match ties the knot 
09/27/2010

Mazel Tov Caroline and Jason photo

My dear friends who met at the first Oy!Chicago get together in the summer of 2008 tied the knot this past Saturday at the Standard Club in Chicago. Everything about the wedding was beautiful and everyone danced the night away. To celebrate our first love match, we thought we’d re-run the stories we’ve written about them over the years. Mazel Tov Mr. and Mrs. Chess and thanks for letting us exploit your relationship over the years.


8 Questions for Caroline Friduss and Jason Chess, foodies, gold coast dwellers, Oy!Chicago Lovers
11/25/2009

Oy33JYSK

Jason and Caroline out and about in the city

Many of you have attended an Oy!Chicago gathering in the past and have gotten to know some of your fellow Oy!sters. Jason Chess and Caroline Friduss met and hit it off at the get together at Matilda last June, and the couple has since been inseparable. Caroline is a Registered Dietitian who works with the elderly as a nutritionist at Friendship Village (a retirement community) in Schaumburg. Jason, a recent West Bloomfield, Michigan transplant, is a Business Banking Officer and Assistant Vice President for National City Bank. The two have discovered that they share a lot in common. It doesn’t seem like much of a coincidence that they live just a few short blocks apart in the Gold Coast, but it’s the second time they are close neighbors. Caroline grew up in the town next door (Bloomfield Hills) to Jason and lived there until she was eight and her family moved to Highland Park.

So, if you too are looking to meet new people, enjoy eating out or hate Chicago traffic, Caroline and Jason are Jews You Should Know!

1. What did you want to be when you grew up?
Jason: When I was really little I wanted to be a baseball player. Later, I wanted to be a CEO.
Caroline: I wanted to be a chef on the food network.

2. What do you love about what you do today?
Jason: Making a difference for my small business clients and networking to meet new people everyday.
Caroline: I love working within the healthcare field, knowing that I am helping people everyday.

3. What are you reading?
Jason: Crain’s Chicago Business and the RedEye.
Caroline:  Loving Frank  by Nancy Horan. It is the next book on my book club list.

4. What's your favorite place to eat in Chicago?
Jason: It’s always hard to think of something on the spot because we always like to try something new. So we keep a list of restaurants we want to try. We just had sushi at Mirai, Indian at Veerasway, brunch at Bongo Room, and lunch at Steve’s Deli. And the next on our list is Le Lan.

5. If money and logistical reality played no part, what would you invent?
Jason: The ability to make it 75 and sunny every day.
Caroline: The ability to get to work with no traffic.

6. Would you rather have the ability to fly or ability to be invisible? 
Jason: Definitely invisible. I can always fly in an airplane.
Caroline: Probably fly. So I can fly to work.

7. If I scrolled through your iPod, what guilty pleasure song would I find?
Jason: Hungry Eyes from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.
Caroline: Anything Kenny Chesney! I’m a country fan.

8. What's your favorite Jewish thing to do in Chicago-in other words, how do you Jew?
Jason: My involvement at the Standard Club and being a member of the YLD board.
Caroline: Oy!Chicago, because I met Jason at the first Oy! event.


An excerpt from JUF Love stories
By Stefanie Pervos
2/09/2010

Jason and Caroline—our engaged couple

JUF Love stories photo 2

Jason Chess and Caroline Friduss met in the summer of 2008 at the first Oy!Chicago get-together at a bar in Lakeview. Caroline was there to support a friend involved in the website and Jason was there to find a nice Jewish girl.

“I went up to a group of five girls and I started talking to the one I had noticed from across the room, Caroline,” Jason said. “I called her three days later, asked her out and the rest is history!”

Caroline remembers talking to Jason for a long time at the bar and realizing just how much they had in common. “I was so excited when he asked for my number that I called my parents the next day to tell them about him. My parents were in Israel at the time and they told their entire bus about it. Maybe it was beshert, maybe my parents being in Israel gave me good mazel (luck).”

Jason, 30, grew up in the suburbs of Detroit and moved to Chicago two years ago where he works as a business banker for National City/PNC. Caroline, 25, is originally from Highland Park and now works as a registered dietitian at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

Jason proposed this past Chanukah by creating his own episode of their favorite television show “How I Met Your Mother.” Jason created a video telling the story of their relationship, including scenes from where they first met at the Oy!Chicago party, their first date and other memorable moments from their relationship leading up to the proposal. They will be married in Chicago this September.

Their advice to Jewish singles out there? 

“Stop looking,” Caroline said. “When you stop looking for your beshert, it will happen.”

“Be involved in JUF, YLD, and other Jewish organizations. Be open to meeting new kinds of people,” Jason said. “We would like to thank Oy!Chicago and JUF for introducing us. It’s amazing how much this organization has done for us and we’re happy to volunteer and stay involved.”

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Cheers! Chicago: A New Year, A New Adventure

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09/21/2010

Shana Tova to you all! In the spirit of the New Year, and while munching on the irresistible flavor combination of apples and honey, I have compiled a list of my favorite bars and restaurants that opened their doors since September of last year. Some of these places are so new, you can still smell the freshly painted walls as you wander through the doors and see the long lines of people trying to get in on these brand new Chicago dining and drinking experiences! So what are you waiting for? Get out there and join the crusade for a culinary adventure!

Watershed
601 N. State St.
312-266-7677
www.watershedbar.com

If anyone has been to Pop’s for Champagne on State Street for some bubbly or a fun night out on the town, then you’ve probably ventured downstairs into the club/lounge area at one time or another. Well, for the past several months Pop’s has been quietly renovating the space, and from that chaos emerges a diamond of a hotspot. Watershed’s creative and contemporary beverage program is operating on all cylinders thanks to one of the top Chicago mixologists, and a very good friend of mine, Daniel de Oliveira. Recently joining the Olmeca Altos tequila company, Dan has put together some wonderful libations for both seasoned and the newbie drinkers to explore. The bar also features local craft beer and regional small-batch spirits. Pop’s chef Chris Walker is behind the configuration of cheers and charcuterie, small plates and small bite snacks. If you’re in the River North neighborhood, make sure to go in and wander downstairs for a unique drinking parlor experience.

Big Star
1531 N. Damen Ave.
773-235-4039
www.bigstarchicago.com

My girlfriend and I had recommendations from several friends to try this new place that opened up recently. Thinking we’d have no problems getting a table on a Thursday night, we made a big mistake and a huge underestimation at the popularity of this Wicker Park sensation that took over an old Pontiac dealership space. A 30 table wait, the hostess tells as we are strolling up to the entrance. And she was right—it turned out to be around an hour and a half wait. That should say something about just how good a restaurant Big Star has become in its infancy in the Chicago dining playground. Just what is it that draws such a crowd, besides is ample outdoor patio seating, its 360 degree bar featuring tasty local brews, and its killer Mexican food? Well, it just so happens that it’s part of a very successful family of city hotspots that include avecthe Violet HourBlackbird and the Publican, so you know it’s worth the wait. While my girlfriend and I did not end up waiting an hour and a half to eat that night, we are definitely making plans to check it out ourselves very soon. And why not, with all the tasty tacos, tostadas and beer you can imagine? Let’s hope it’s not another 30 table wait!

Kith and Kin
1119 W. Webster Ave.
773-472-7070
www.knkchicago.com

About a month ago, while volunteering at an annual fundraiser to end children’s hunger in the US, I had the pleasure of working a station next to David Carrier, who happens to be the chef de cuisine at Lincoln Park’s newly opened Kith and Kin. What a treat! After we exchanged introductions and had a chance to sample each other’s creations, I got a chance to get to know David and his philosophy behind the success of his food: simple and flavorful. And how! Try their tasty appetizers, dive into their hearty salads, or for those couples that love to share, try the 24 ounce ribeye for two. And don’t miss out on dessert, either! I’d recommend the buttermilk panna cotta or the chocolate mousse.

Benchmark
1510 N. Wells St.
312-649-9640
www.benchmarkchicago.com

This Old Town, two-story beer garden has taken eating, drinking and watching sports to a whole new level. I mean, they’ve thought of everything: a retractable rooftop and a plethora of windows for warmer climate, built-in TVs and screens that literally rise out of the back of the banquettes, a large but very affordable wine list, and some killer sandwiches and pizza to curb your appetite. Even when the weather cools, you won’t find a better spot in the neighborhood for a young and social crowd that want to watch their sports and enjoy some amazing bar food with friends and family!

The Bar 10 Doors
1251 W. Taylor St.
312-226-1611

This unique watering hole found in the Little Italy neighborhood on Taylor Street boasts a wonderful combination of great drinks and global small plates. They’ve got 16 draft beers, both American and imported, that will whet any thirsty traveler’s appetite. And the small plates are out of this world, or should I say all over this world! Sashimi from Japan, curry from India, ceviche from Spain, and a saffron risotto called arancini from Mexico that is absolutely lip-smacking delicious. The price range is very accommodating and they stay open well into the night, so don’t pass up this opportunity to travel to a different part of town and enjoy!

Try one of these five brand new hotspots and I will guarantee you a very sweet time!

L’Chaim!

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Love affair with autumn

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09/20/2010

Love affair with autumn photo

Photo credit Tiffany O'Neill 

Every year I have a love affair with autumn. The crisp air, colorful leaves, moody sky and my favorite produce filling the markets give me an incredible sense of well being. I also love Sukkoth. I like the whole premise of the holiday with harvests and ingathering, but mostly I like the fact that this is a holiday that does not tell me what to eat, only where to eat it.

I love that I can drive down many streets in Lakeview and the northern suburbs and see decorated huts in backyards. I adore the idea of eating outside in homey temporary shelters.

Autumn is also my favorite time of the year to feed people. Everyone is actually hungry. In the summer, people tend to have dainty appetites, but autumn brings out the hunger. Diets are forgotten or temporarily suspended and desire kicks in.

Nothing says autumn or Sukkoth like a good pumpkin. I love the nutty flavor that pumpkin adds to dishes and I use it in soups, sauces and the delicious mousse recipe below. I like to hollow out mini pumpkins and sprinkle the insides with sugar and then fill them with mousse just before serving. Or, you can spoon the mousse into pretty dessert glasses.

PUMKPIN-WHITE CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

1 ½ teaspoons plain gelatin
2 eggs, separated
½ cup canned pumpkin
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups heavy whipping cream
9 ounces best quality white chocolate, melted (I like Callebaut— available at Whole Foods)

1. Sprinkle gelatin over 1/3 cup water in a small bowl. Let soften 5 minutes.

2. Stir together the 2 egg yolks, pumpkin, vanilla and brown sugar.

3. Bring 1/2 cup cream to a boil in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Add gelatin mixture and pumpkin mixture; stir until combined.

4. Put chocolate into the bowl of a food processor. With machine running, carefully pour in hot cream mixture in a slow steady stream, and process until smooth. Transfer to a medium bowl, and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate until thick enough to hold ribbons, about 30 minutes. Stir until smooth.

5. Whisk egg whites to nearly stiff peaks and gold into the chocolate mixture.

6. Whisk remaining heavy cream to nearly stiff peaks. Fold into chocolate mixture. Mousse can be refrigerated, covered, up to one day before serving.

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How to find the perfect diet for you

 Permanent link
09/17/2010

How to find the perfect diet for you photo

There is a perfect diet.  It will help you fit into your skinny jeans, and help you gain muscle.  It works for everyone.  This magical meal planning will help you feel energetic, sleep soundly, gain muscle and drop fat.  You can either hire me to tell you this secret, or just keep reading.

My guess, you are still reading.  I would too, this is a steal.  Many fitness experts and doctors will not want me to share this with you, but I’m doing it anyway.  I can handle the scrutiny.

The perfect diet has nothing to do with Atkins, South Beach, or San Diego.  The diet that works best for you, is different than the diet that will work best for me, or anyone else for that matter, because it has to do with your own unique DNA.  A low-carb diet work may work well for some people, others may end up eating too much protein and fat, feel like crap, raise their cholesterol and end up with liver problems.  Giving up refined sugar works can work for many people, but not over the long haul, because at some point you’re going to find that cookie irresistible.

Finding the best foods to eat starts with tracking— write down what you eat.  Also, write down how you feel—tired, nauseous, energetic…  You have to make sure you write down everything you eat, even if it’s just one peanut m&m at four in the afternoon.  Why?  You are looking for patterns:

• Do you feel tired after meals?
• Do you eat too much sugar in the afternoons (i.e. mini-snickers and twix)?
• Do you drink too much soda?
• Do you eat enough fruits and vegetables?
• Do certain combinations of food bother your stomach (sometimes fruit after a heavy meal makes people gassy)?
• Do you eat too many empty calories (i.e. pretzels, rice cakes, dry cereal, chips)?
• Do you eat enough protein?

I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea.  To help you in your journaling, you can use a Blackberry or other application on your smart phone to get calorie and nutritional information.  The only way to improve your diet is to truly understand what you’re eating.

Once you have a month of data you can start to really analyze trends and make changes slowly.  Many yo-yo dieters make drastic changes and then once they drop a few pounds, they fall back into old habits.

Speaking of nutritional information, do you know that a chopped salad at Corner Bakery Salad contains over 60 grams of fat, and most Au Bon Pain sandwiches contain over 1200 milligrams of salt?  Eating out is no easy task these days.  Many of my clients had no idea how often they ate out, till they started logging their food.  My dad once told me, “I’m eating rabbit food everyday for lunch, and I’ve lost no weight.”  I asked him to bring me home the dressing he put on his “rabbit food.”  He was adding 26 grams of fat to his salad!

I’m not saying you should stop eating out, just be an informed customer.  Check out the nutritional information before you eat instead of after.  Almost every chain has information on-line.

So, start logging your food for 30 days and see how you do—  if you want to, you can email me your log and I’ll evaluate it.  Good luck!

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My Life (So Far...)

 Permanent link
09/16/2010

My Life (So Far...) photo

The details: I want bagpipes at my funeral. I want to donate all my organs. I have (almost) decidedly decided to be cremated, (which will come as a tremendous surprise to my husband.) I want my children and friends to speak at my service. I want people to remember all my accomplishments and excuse all my failures. I want to be missed. Not just for a period of time, but forever. I want to leave big shoes to fill. I want to have been on this earth for a reason larger than myself and my family. I want to have done something that means something to more than just me.
 
I have been watching "The Big C." It has forced me to start reflecting on what I would do if I were terminally ill. The main character, Cathy, is married with a teenage son. She finds out she has stage 4 melanoma. Although her doctor has not given her a specific timeline, it's clear that she is dying in the near future and without other options. Prior to the news, Cathy is an uptight control freak. She is calculated in all her decision making. She is orderly. She owns and ferociously guards a beautiful white couch. She has settled into a boring and predictable marriage. She is going through the motions of living her life without much thought as to why she does what she does. The news rocks her. She pours red wine on her couch, flips the cushions and then burns it. She builds a pool within inches of her back step so she can leap into the pool with no hesitation and teach her son to dive from the edge. She buys a red (of course) stick shift convertible with all the bells and whistles (which she quickly realizes she is unable to drive because she doesn't drive stick.) She becomes impulsive. She gets naked. She frees her spirit.

And she triggers a feeling of discomfort and regret in me.

I always wanted to get married. I always wanted a family. I promised myself if I didn't find a wonderful life partner, I would go at parenthood alone. I knew I would adopt. Beyond that, I didn't really know. I didn't really think about it. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not some, "yes dear" subservient wife. I don't hang my identity on my being married or a mom. But, family is at my core. I studied Psychology, which was not that shocking. My dad is a therapist— people interest me— I'm decent with human interaction. Slightly shocking might have been my going on to get my masters in counseling, since I really detested school. I still have those anxiety dreams about missing a test and staying in school forever. But I don't believe I ever took the time to procure a life plan. I was too afraid. I just kind of went through life.

I travelled a little. I lived in Israel for a year. This came about after 5 years of private school tuition at two liberal arts colleges. I proudly announced that I was going to live in Boston and be a bartender, where everybody knows your name. My parents gave me the "blink. blink." stare. About a week later my mom said they would pay for me to go to Israel, but I had to stay for a year. I said OK. I never really wanted to move to Boston and bartend. I had never really wanted to do anything. I did not have a vision beyond someday having a family.

I came home from Israel and started working for a Jewish organization. I was not overly passionate about the work, but it was convenient. I met my husband. I quit my job. I got married. I went to graduate school. I started a job. I quit graduate school. I went back to graduate school. I graduated from graduate school. I quit my job. And weeks later, my first son was born and I became a stay-at-home mom.

I went on to have three more additions— two more biological sons and one adopted daughter. I point this out so that you can see I achieved my two goals— family and adoption. I'm not a total slacker. But now, here I sit. In my house in the suburbs. Great husband. Four wonderful kids. Two dogs. The fortunate opportunity to be at home and raise my kids with full support from my spouse. But now, with all of that, I wish before it, I had lived my life differently. I always wanted to travel. But I never knew where to go. Now I know. Austrailia! Vietnam! Ireland! Italy! Spain! I want to travel by train around Europe! I want to join the Peace Corp. Now, with four young kids, it is completely and utterly impractical. Impossible. And I fear for myself that that I will die unfulfilled. And all of this triggered by a God damn TV show. I'm like a poster child for the influence of our media.

But, really. At some point, don't we all look around and take notice of where we were, who we are, and compare it to where we want to be? Where I am, I love. But if I were dying today, my life would not have been fully realized. Not because I am merely 38 years old— too young (objectively) to kick the bucket. But because of the perspective I have now, all these years later. I'm lamenting at the possibilities that remain unrealized, and at this point, possibly impossible. It's easy to lament, regret and accept what we haven't done as the end. For now, I am planning a romantic trip to Italy in the spring.

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Kindling change—part two

 Permanent link
09/15/2010

I recently wrote an article for Oy!Chicago detailing how eight months ago, my life changed via receiving an Amazon Kindle for Chanukah. Now one way I did not foresee my Kindle changing my life was by way of religion. I mean, come on, it’s an eReader. What can it possibly have in common with religion?

And that’s where I was wrong.

I was bored one day (probably when I should have been doing homework) and decided to surf Amazon.com to see what obscure books I could get for my Kindle—not that I’d actually buy them, but because I love randomly finding books that are so strange, unique, and “out-there.” After about ten minutes of perusing the Kindle bookstore page I found myself on a page I never would have thought existed.

The Jewish Bible for the Kindle.

Now it’s not so strange that Amazon would have digital copies of the Tanakh for the Kindle. There are regular, bound paged books of it so why not translate that to the Kindle? There are Kindle copies of the Bible so it would make sense to have the Jewish version represented as well.

The thing that is strange about having the Tanakh on the Kindle is the ironic aspect of it. To help explain, I reached out to Rabbie Dov Hillel Klein, from the Chabad house on Northwestern’s campus.

“According to traditional Judaism one cannot use electronic books on Shabbat,” Rabbi Klein said. “It is forbidden to initiate electricity on Shabbat. Likewise, one cannot use electronic prayer books on Shabbat. I use electronic prayer books during the week.”

So if it is forbidden to initiate electricity on Shabbat, then how are you supposed to use electronic prayer books on Shabbat? Yes, you can use them during the week, but the whole reason behind the Kindle is to make reading books convenient. You don’t need to carry heavy, hardcover books around when you have the slim, 8.7 oz Kindle that has the capacity to hold thousands of books for you. But you still need that hardcover Jewish Bible for Shabbat. So what’s the use in having a digital version if you still need the “old-fashioned” version for when it really counts?

I am a firm believer in technology furthering our society. I fully embrace any/all new gadgets and implement them in my life. The Kindle was no exception. I wholeheartedly welcomed it and allowed it to completely revamp the way I read. In the argument over whether eReaders are destroying the traditional way of literature or helping to further it along, you won’t find me on the side of the old-fashioned.

But perhaps when it comes to religion, technology just can’t provide the same benefits as traditional methods of prayer/study. That’s why it’s called tradition.

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20 Things The Baby Books Don’t Tell You

 Permanent link
09/14/2010

20 Things The Baby Books Don’t Tell You photo

So here are 20 things I had to learn on my own during the first week of my new baby boy’s life. (That the baby is now two months old and I am only now getting to turn my notes into a blog post is just a small indicator of how busy a small person can make a big person):

1) Don’t hold the baby while brushing your teeth. The pointy toothbrush handle can reach from your mouth to the baby’s face. Luckily, I realized this before anything happened.

2) When burping the baby by patting him on the back, you can keep rhythm by singing him a song with a strong beat. Good ones include “Give Up the Funk,” “Proud Mary,” and “When I Ruled the World.” Patriotic songs also work, especially “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” (“Mama Said Knock You Out” is a great one, except if mama walks in on you while you are using it.)

3) If you feed the baby first, the puppy will whine and annoy the baby during his bottle, making feeding difficult. If you feed the puppy first, the baby will lose his patience and cry, making feeding difficult. Anyone who can figure this one out deserves a Nobel.

20 Things The Baby Books Don’t Tell You photo 2

4) Babies hate cold. They hate it more than great-aunt Tillie who flees to Ft. Lauderdale when the first autumn leaf hits the sidewalk. Cold rooms, cold hands, cold bottles— all bad. Also, your “room temp” is baby’s “deep freeze.” So you put socks on him. He will kick off the socks. So he has to be bundled in a blanket. He will then kick off the blanket.

5) Babies look like whoever is holding them, according to the people looking at the ones holding them. Exception: If your wife is prettier than you, the baby looks like her. Exception to the exception: If the baby undeniably looks more like you, you will hear: “The baby looks like you— I’m sorry.”

6) Gifts brought to the hospital are appreciated at the hospital. They are less so on the way to the car with your first-time-in-a-car-seat-newborn, your post-partum wife, and several pieces of luggage, plus the discharge papers, which cannot be packed. Helium balloons are especially hard to wrestle into cars, and they block your rear-view unless they are in the trunk… and then you have to remember you have ceiling fans at home.

7) You don’t have enough blankies. You could have an automatic blankie-dispenser, or live over a blankie factory, and you won’t have enough blankies. You know how you go through a box of tissues when you have a bad cold? Like that, but every day you wash the same 17 blankies.

8) Mechanical swing + pacifier = just enough time to shower.

9) Not all baby-bottle nipples are created equal. In fact, there is more variety here than with shoes. There are sizes, shapes, materials, and “flow-rates” to consider, not to mention the viscosity of the fluid passing through the nipple and its likelihood of clogging the nipple. Too slow frustrates the baby; too fast gags the baby. Choosing a car is easier than finding the nipple your baby likes. And his preference will change in a week.

10) Some babies are clenched. They have that “put up your dukes” pose, and bent knees, too, because they have yet to get used to the fact that they are no longer in the womb, where that posture was the only one available for months. Yes, they eventually open up, but knowing this does not make getting clothes and diapers on him easier now. It’s like dressing a doll with steel springs for joints.

11) Aside from blankies, you don’t have enough batteries. You don’t have enough outlets. You don’t have time to download the 1,372 photos you take every day and forward them to desperate relatives.

12) Babies are natural clowns. Last Comic Standing would be vastly improved if the comics were replaced by babies waking up, nodding off, and in “awake-alert” modes.

13) Just because they make the nursing, pursing-lip face does not mean they are hungry. Some babies just like to suckle as a way of calming themselves. You will not know which he means until the pacifier comes rocketing back at your face.

14) Feeding every three hours is a guideline. Feeding on demand is more the rule.

15) Milk to a baby is like beer to an adult: first the chugging, then the burping, then the spewing, and then the passing out.

16) Onesies have three snaps in the, um, crotch-al area. Just use the middle one. If you try to line up all three on a squirming tush, you will fail. Even if you succeed, then you have three whole snaps to undo and redo every time you change the diaper. And they are designed to hold so fast you are more likely to tear the fabric than unsnap them.

17) Don’t both get up every time the baby cries at night. Here’s what we do: I went to sleep at 11:00 pm, while my wife stayed up until 5:30 am. Which is when I got up and took over while she slept until noon or 1:00 pm. Then we still have the whole afternoon and evening together, and both of us have had a relatively full sleep. Once I came back to work, we added a nanny to the mix so each of us three adults were on 8-hour baby shifts.

18) When the baby falls asleep on you, wait until he is really asleep, then put him down in his crib or car seat. But yes, then put him down. Eight pounds becomes 80 after two hours. If you let him learn that he can only sleep on your arm, you will get a cramp that laughs at tennis elbow.

19) There is an app for that. While in the hospital, I found one that timed contractions. And another than generates white noise. This is good for simulating the sounds the baby heard when in utero, and it’s remarkably calming for them. Also the Shabbat service because we were still in the hospital over Shabbat, but I didn’t consider that possibility and had not packed my siddur. I know, I shouldn’t have used the phone on Shabbat at all, but it was either that or not pray. Only after we got home did it occur to me that I could have contacted the hospital’s chaplain.

20) There are at least 20 more things just on the topic of what the baby books don’t tell you about poop, but I won’t go there…

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Rosh Hashanah dinner for two

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09/13/2010

Shana Tova!  Like many of you, I have been reflecting on this past year, 5770, and looking ahead to the next, 5771.  Over the past year I have transitioned from one full-time job to another, completed a part-time fellowship, staffed a Birthright-Shorashim trip to Israel, and proposed, planned a wedding, and married the woman of my dreams…just to name a few of the events that kept me busy last year.  I have no regrets.  I am in a great place in my life and I have had an amazing year.  My accomplishments have been significant and my experiences have been life changing.

Rosh Hashanah dinner for two photo 1

This time of year there is a lot of talk about New Year’s resolutions—let’s try to do more of this, spend more time on that, and really work to get better at all of these.  As a goal oriented, young Jewish professional, I am all for it and I unconditionally support the endless pursuit of excellence.  That being said, an interesting idea came to me this year.

As 5770 was coming to a close, I was celebrating my wedding over Labor Day weekend, just a few days before Rosh Hashanah.  With all the flurry of activity surrounding the wedding, my now wife and I had neglected to make any dinner plans for the holiday.  We didn’t make any arrangements to be anywhere or have anyone come to us.   Surprisingly, I felt great about it.  Well, admittedly, I felt a little guilty that I wasn’t planning some grand meal or traveling to see any family for the long weekend.  Deep down, though, I was relieved.  After one of the busiest and most intense years of my life, I had the opportunity to come into 5771 with nothing to do.

On Erev Rosh Hashanah, as many were stressing, traveling, preparing, cooking, and getting ready for the insane rush of the holiday, I felt completely at ease and relaxed.  I left work early, picked up a few items at Trader Joe’s, and cooked Rosh Hashanah dinner for two.  We had kosher wine, two round challahs, sweet honey, fresh apples, and all the necessities for a holiday meal.  Best of all we had time to just be with each other and enjoy our new life as a married couple.  I’m talking about good old fashioned free time: time for dreaming, napping, laughing, and playing.  After the year I had just completed it was the perfect and most peaceful way to bring in the new year.

The experience of a low key holiday taught me an important lesson.  There was one resolution that needed to be on my list this year.  In fact if it’s the only thing I accomplish, it’s safe to say that this will be an even more amazing year than last.  How do I top 5770, the year where I seemingly did it all?  The answer is to do less.  My resolution this year is to make more time to just be me, live my life, and enjoy the time with my new wife.

I wish all of our Oy! readers a happy and healthy new year.  For those of you of that have a lot to do this year, my wish for you is to have it all and do it all.  For those of you that need a break this year, my wish is that you give yourself permission to take a little extra time for yourself and occasionally enjoy a meal for just one or two.

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Things my Jewish grandma says…part 2

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09/08/2010

Things my Jewish grandma says part 2 photo 1

My grandma is the strong and silent type.  At least she tries to be.

When we take my grandma out to lunch (more like she takes us out – she never lets us pay), she typically remains quiet while we fill her in on the latest family gossip and share the details of our lives.  When we ask her what is new with her, we usually get a quick response of, “nothing much” and when you ask her about her opinion on the decisions of our family members, 95 percent of the time, she’ll say, “I’m just the grandmother, I don’t mix in” and leaves it at that.

There is however, an exception to this rule.  My grandma’s other 5 % is hysterical.  She will never criticize anyone directly, but every so often, she will be sitting with me and my mother and inadvertently make a very blunt comment about another family member.  Like, “Have you seen the low cut shirts that your cousin has been wearing lately?” or “If only he’d lose 20 pounds, I’m sure he’d have no trouble finding a girlfriend.”  Oy.

Last week, I received an alarming call from my mother letting me know that my grandma was in the hospital.  Worried, I immediately gave my mom the third degree, trying to assess what was wrong and how serious the situation was.

Here is what happened:

That day, my mother had spoken with Grandma Fanny at noon, and all was well.  At 4:00 p.m., my grandma failed to call her best friend Sylvie like she always does each day, so at 4:01 p.m., Sylvie panicked.  Oh, Jewish grandmas.

She frantically called my grandma, who was barely able to answer but told her that she was dizzy and was having major stomach problems, vomiting etc.

Sylvie proceeded to call my mother, Annette, and two uncles, Mardy and Jerry, at home, and received no answer (4:00 p.m. – everyone was at work – duh).  So rather than going over there, she called 911.  Then she realized that she can call my mom’s cell phone, got through, and from there, of course the whole family wass alerted.  My dad and my uncles raced across town to grandma’s house to beat EMS before they broke down her door.

Grandma, G-d bless her, was laying in bed, sick as a dog, and while my father dealt with EMS, my uncle Jerry noticed a small handwritten note on the fridge that hadn’t been there the day before when he had visited:

          If I get sick, it’s from the chicken that Mardy brought me from Giant Eagle.

Oh, Grandma.  I think you’ve been watching too much Seinfeld.  Most people just wouldn’t eat the chicken.  My grandma, bless her heart, eats the chicken that she already has a hunch is bad, and leaves a note to place the blame before the illness even sets in.

While it’s not the best day to be Uncle Mardy, it’s good to be my grandma, because we all love her and rushed to take care of her at a moment’s notice.  And to give my uncle a bit of credit, apparently the illness wasn’t entirely the fault of the chicken.  Grandma is on the mend but suffering not just from food poisoning but vertigo.

The holidays remind me each year how lucky I am to have my grandparents in my life, even when they’re a little crazy.  To all of you reading, take a moment at some point over the high holidays to tell your grandparents to have a happy and healthy new year – and that if the chicken looks bad, it likely is.  Don’t eat it!

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Dear Gillespie

 Permanent link
09/07/2010

Amen, Amen, Amen: an interview with author Abby Sher photo

“It’s kind of a no-brainer for us.”

“I mean, if you want a list of mohels, I can email you one.”

“For me, it’s more of an aesthetic thing. I had this experience with a guy who wasn’t circumcised…have you ever played with a long water balloon?”

This was the discussion I had with a few friends last week – all of us in our last trimester of pregnancy. And while the water balloon image stuck with me on the playground the next afternoon, I still didn’t get the answer I’d sought.

Two years ago, my husband and I were doing the circumcision debate and wound up in a dead heat. Blessedly, on the last push he yelled, “It’s a girl!” We spent the first eight days of her life in a blissful haze. Our biggest concerns were whether I had the proper breastfeeding latch and if we should reheat more lasagna.

But here we are, almost two years later to the day, still undecided. And this time, even though we’re trying to keep the gender a surprise, even my midwife has called my bump a he. The only name we have so far is Gillespie, because I was so dizzy for the first few months, and now though I’m physically more stable, my mind is still spinning. Here are some of the arguments, opinions, and inconclusive statements from my husband, Jay and me.

Me: Well, it’s been proven circumcision is healthier. I have to check the WHO website but I’m pretty sure.
Jay: I think they’ve found studies both pro- and con- health wise.
Me: Then, how will you explain it to him if he looks different than you?
Jay: I can handle it.
Me: Okay, and there’s also….the covenant thing.
Jay: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The Covenant Thing. Jay is not Jewish. Which doesn’t upset me, but it does challenge me. To be more aware and honest about my own beliefs. When I first met him, he called himself an atheist.

“But you must believe in something!” I insisted. When he asked me to clarify my own faith, I got defensive and nauseous. I’d spent most of my thirty years obsessive about my prayers and rituals and didn’t know how to distill the importance of the Shema and yahzreit, kissing the mezuzah and Friday night chicken into a pithy response. My relationship with G-d was and continues to be sacrosanct. Jay knows I pray every day for a half hour. He knows not to open the door or interrupt me with anything short of a five-alarm fire. But he doesn’t know exactly what I am reciting or how I am constantly trying to evolve in my daily practice and make it into more of a conversation. Though I take comfort in the Jewish traditions and consider matzoh ball soup the truest form of manna, I have Chungpa Rinpoche and Pema Chodron on my night table, not Martin Buber. I visit the yoga studio a few times a week, and the local temple a few times a year.

Jay’s spirituality has definitely grown in our years together too. Though he was brought up with his parents practicing many different traditions, and his father is now a minister for Unity for Peace, I think studying martial arts is what brought Jay to a stronger belief in a universal connection. I find it incredibly hopeful (and pretty sexy) when he talks about putting positive energy into the world so someone else can feel that space and possibility. I love that we can connect through shared ideas about the power and responsibility of human kindness even if we don’t agree on what lies Beyond.

And yet, our personal journeys with religion do not solve the problem of what to do with our son’s penis. Or do they?

In many ways, Gillespie’s birth feels like my chance to truly uphold my end of the covenant. My parents gave me this inheritance of Judaism, which for so long meant doughy challah, a crush on my rabbi, and a warm temple library where I could find quiet in between Hebrew school classes. The Berit Mila could give my son the support and possible enlightenment of a time-honored tradition. It could give him a sense of belonging and protection, whether he chooses to be actively Jewish or not.

Equally valid are Jay’s ideas that if we do circumcise our son, we are imposing our will on him. Jay feels strongly that whatever we do shouldn’t commit him to any one faith. But if we have a doctor circumcise Gillespie in the hospital with no ceremony, that feels even colder and more barbaric. And what about the sanctity of letting him choose?

I wish this could end in a neat verdict. But it’s more like a to be continued. My role as mother now means keeping this discussion open in my family. Learning to articulate what and why we have our individual beliefs. I used to fear that I would do wrong by G-d. That I would sin so irrevocably, I could never earn His forgiveness. I often still list my mistakes and offenses when I sit down to pray. But I do not believe in a G-d who punishes or excludes someone from His fold because of the shape of his penis. This is what I know clearly, and can say with conviction to all of my children: I believe in a G-d who is all-accepting and all-loving, finding the good in each creature and each blade of grass.

So here is my half of the conversation that I’d like to start, and I hope one day soon my dear boy can answer me if he likes.

Hi, sweet Gillespie. This will be a running theme throughout your life, but Mama’s confused. I want to do right by you but I’m not sure what that is and also what will serve you best in the long run.

The long run? That’s a good question. Well, it means the future, but who am I to predict anything farther than what’s for supper? My job as mama is to live in the present tense with a generous heart and trust. Trust that the world will keep spinning and I will learn from my mistakes and you will find your own relationship with faith and G-d, whatever that means to you. All the covenants and sacrifices and candles and even latkes passed down are reminders of this one essential truth.

So right now? This moment, as you roll your body under my skin and give me such giddy anticipation with your hiccups. Right now, I feel like I should circumcise you so you can enjoy this connection with your Jewish brethren. But I also feel that I should let you be the perfect, untouched creature of astounding beauty that you already are. Connected with all humanity through your steadily beating heart.

And I’m trusting that the answer will come clear soon.

Abby Sher is the author of Amen, Amen, Amen: Memoir of a Girl Who Couldn’t Stop Praying. To learn more about Abby and her book, visit  http://abbysher.com/ .

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My eye-opening exhibit

 Permanent link
09/03/2010

Joseph G. was just a couple of years old when his family was forced to march to a ravine close to his home in Kyiv, Ukraine. There, Nazi soldiers shot almost the entire Jewish community of Kyiv. Few were able to hide under the piles of bodies and make it to tell the story.

Joseph survived. But his story is even more miraculous because at a time when few were willing to help their Jewish neighbors, a woman decided to act to save at least one person. She pulled Joseph out of a crowd being herded to Babi Yar. The Ukrainian woman was the neighborhood’s street sweeper and hid Joseph throughout World War II and then raised him as her own. No one else from his family survived those harrowing years.

Illinois Holocaust Museum logo

Joseph was among a group of 15 Russian-speaking seniors who visited the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center last week. The seniors are part of the Russian Senior Center at the Dina & Eli Field EZRA Multi-Service Center. Run by two Russian-speaking social workers, the program helps Russian-speaking seniors with filling out paperwork, English-language classes and cultural program, among its many offerings.

For this field trip, I had the privilege of serving as a translator.

I hadn’t been to the museum since it opened. The exhibits cover everything from Jewish life in pre-war Europe to Nazi massacres to the attempts at normalcy in the ghettoes to liberation and life post-war. It’s a hard path to walk, but one that made me keenly aware of all the benefits of living in a free society where my being Jewish – or a woman or Russian or any other way I identify – has no bearing on opportunities afforded to me.

Joseph was particularly agitated when we entered the Museum. He had donated an item to the collection: the medal recognizing his savior as a Righteous Gentile. In fact, a tree has been planted in her honor at Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum and the national memorial to victims of the Shoah.

I translated the placards, the sound recordings, the videos and photo captions as we walked through the winding rooms, passing from the dark, angular half into the light half of the Stanley Tigerman-designed Museum.

As we went, the group recalled their own experiences. Like Joseph, many lived in large Jewish communities. Three women remembered living in small towns in present-day Belarus and mourned the lives of their relatives who perished. Another woman was a communications operator for an infantry division. Still others fought with the partisans and only recently discovered information about Jewish partisans in the very same forests – like the Bielski brothers, whose stories were recently made into a film.

Joseph didn’t see his artifact in the collection, but was relieved to find out that it’s carefully catalogued and might be on display when the exhibits change in about six to nine months. He’ll get a postcard from the Museum when the medal is on view.

The visit was much more than a very welcome chance to practice my Russian and my simultaneous translation skills. The two narratives – of the group I was accompanying and of the exhibits themselves – converged into a much fuller, richer story.

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My love affair with fro-yo

 Permanent link
09/02/2010

I’m so excited for tonight’s Oy!Chicago fro-yo get together at my new favorite hot spot Forever Yogurt.  I LOVE fro-yo.  Love it!  Nothing beats a delicious bowl of smooth, creamy, soft-serve goodness topped with tasty treats.  It doesn’t matter what season, it’s always worth the trip.  I love fro-yo so much that I’ve been known to eat my cup, decide I didn’t get enough and get back in line for another scoop.  I also don’t play favorites.  Whether it’s tart and tangy a la Starfruit or sweeter than sweet a la Love’s, I eat it all.  I actually cried the day Treats closed for good in Lincoln Park. (I’ll forever miss you, blue cotton candy flavored yogurt.)

My love affair with fro-yo photo

Jo-Jo’s = the best ice cream spot in Kauai!

I consider myself something of a fro-yo expert, so I thought in light of tonight’s event, I’d compile my list of the top 10 best places for yogurt in the city.

In no particular order they are…

Love’s
Ahh, who doesn’t love Love’s?!  I’ve been frequenting Love’s for as long as I can remember.  Just down the street from my high school, Love’s and I shared many after school dates.  The yogurt is delicious, but it always leaves me wanting more (see above.)  My boyfriend recently discovered the Love’s location at Chicago and Milwaukee (just off the blue line!), and for a man who doesn’t like sweets, he’s obsessed with the peanut butter flavor.

Starfruit
I discovered this place by chance, because it is located next door to my gym.  It quickly rose to the top of my list.  I don’t feel guilty stopping by after a workout because it’s low calories and good for the digestive system.  They have a great product, creamy and even a little sweet, at decent prices and mochi is one of many amazing toppings they offer.

Forever Yogurt
This place isn’t just on the list because we are headed there tonight.  This place kicks butt!  I live just down the street and I’ve made it a habit to visit here for my fro-yo fix.  There are 14 self-serve flavors for you to choose from— my favorites are the red velvet cake, mama’s cake batter and the Reese’s peanut butter cup— and more toppings than any other place I’ve been to.  Just be careful (even with tonight’s 25% discount), this place can be pricey.  It’s easy to overload when you’re in control and at 40 cents an ounce, it won’t come cheap.

Yogunfruz
This places takes probiotic fro-yo to a whole new level with the “mix its.”  They’ll blend any fruit or even chocolate to sweeten up your treat and that’s before toppings.  For those of you who want the benefits of probiotics without the sour taste, Yogunfruz is catering to you.

TCBY
Truly the countries best yogurt and it will forever hold a soft spot in my heart.  Growing up, TCBY was right down the street from my house and my dad I used to go all the time.  We’d both order the white chocolate mousse— it doesn’t get any better than that.

Berrychill
I know people swear by Berrychill’s yogurt, but when I’m looking for a delicious probiotic treat, I usually turn to Starfruit.  The yogurt is slightly sweeter and creamier than the Berrychill stuff, while still chockfull of live active cultures that make it good for your tummy.  I go to Berrychill because it offers hands down my favorite fro-yo topping of all time— smiley face cookies!

Dairy Queen
It was a sad day when Dairy Queen discontinued the “breezes” and gave up selling yogurt in the store all together.  But did you know that a small DQ sundae is only 163 calories or a small vanilla cone is 142 calories?  Who needs yogurt when you can eat the real thing for so little calories?!

Costco
What!?  You don’t go to Costco just for the yogurt?  Well, next time you’re stocking up on massive quantities of paper towels, make a beeline for the yogurt stand (usually located after the check out).  Costco has a great vanilla and they’ll add ton’s of fruit to it all at low Costco prices!  It’s a delicious steal!

TastiDlite
Yes, I know this isn’t actually a Chicago spot, but it is the founder of the guilt free fro-yo movement and therefore deserves a spot on my list.  With so many places popping up these days, I think it’s impressive that TastiDLite has been serving soft serve treats since 1987.  And according to the Tasti D Lite web site, an Illinois location is coming soon— fingers crossed!

Wow Bao
Again, when you think of Wow Bao, you probably don’t think yogurt.  But did you know that the Water Tower location has some of the best yogurt in the city?  Next time you’re in the mood for a few Baos, pair it with a cup of the pomegranate ginger or fresh hibiscus yogurt.  You won’t be sorry!

So there you have it— my top 10 fro-yo spots!  What do you think?  Agree, disagree?

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An Interview with Former Jewish Blackhawk, Steve Dubinsky

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09/01/2010

An interview with former Jewish Blackhawk photo

During all the Blackhawk craziness in Chicago I searched and searched for a Jewish connection. Recently, I tracked down former Jewish Blackhawk Steve Dubinsky, who is still involved in the game through his sons and youth hockey. He was a really nice guy to talk to and still a big Hawks fan. Check out my interview with Dubinsky and celebrate the Hawks big win all over again:

The Great Rabbino: Did you follow the Blackhawks throughout the season? If so, how did you celebrate? 
Steve Dubinsky: Yes, I was rooting for them. It was extremely exciting. I was a firm believer that they would win. I was happy for the city and the organization. But on a personal level, it was not my place to celebrate.

What was the highlight of your playing career?
Probably my first goal against Vancouver in 1994.

Who is the greatest player you ever played against?
Probably Gretzky. Maybe Lemieux.

Who is the greatest goalie you ever face?
[Patrick] Roy, for sure.

Did you face any other Jewish hockey players during your time?
Yeah. Both Ronnie Stern and Mathieu Schneider.

What are you up to now?
I am in Edmonton for some youth hockey. There will also be a tournament in Vernon Hills, which will be great. I own a development company. Also, I work with Glacier Ice Arena in Vernon Hills.

Do your kids play?
All three of my boys play. My middle son is actually playing for the Junior Blackhawks.

Which is better: Chicago Stadium or the United Center? 
You just can't compare the old stadium.

Having lived in Chicago, what is your favorite Chicago pizza place?
For sure, Lou Malnatis.

Dubinsky suggested we check out www.selecthockey.com.

Thank you again to Dubinsky for answering our questions and taking the time out to speak with us.

Good luck in the future.

And Let Us Say...Amen.

For more on Jewish Sports check out www.greatrabbino.com

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Leaving Las Vegas

 Permanent link
08/31/2010

Leaving Las Vegas photo 1

Last month, I went on a much-needed vacation with my hubby—our first ‘adults only’ trip since our daughter was born.  It.  Was.  Awesome.

We slept for more than 14 HOURS straight the first night.  We traveled with carry-on luggage only.  And for three entire days all I needed to carry was a wallet—no diapers, wipes, snacks or toys.  For three days, it was just the two of us, and we felt 10 years younger.

I felt zero guilt about leaving my daughter.  I missed her, but for the first time in 2+ years I GOT TO SLEEP IN.  If you think this makes me a bad Mommy, get a new definition of bad.

There was only one little problem with our relaxing vacation.  We were in Vegas.  As in Vegas baby, Vegas!!!  The city of lights, America’s playground, etc., etc., etc.

It seemed like a good idea—spend a little time at the spa, catch a show, maybe do a little shopping, and if we won the whole trip could be free!  Where else do have the potential to make money on vacation? So (assuming you can also tolerate losing some money) what could possibly be bad about a relaxing trip to Vegas?

In theory, nothing—but Vegas was designed to stimulate the senses, in every possible way.  So it’s probably not the best place to relax and unwind at the height of tourist season when you have to fight your way through mobs of tourists just to get to the spa.

Still… overall it was a great trip.  Yet, something was “off” on this trip that I just couldn’t quite put my finger on.

And then what “it” was dawned on me as a very pretty, very young, and very, very scantily clad waitress took my drink order.  Instead of thinking “I wish I had her body” I thought: “I hope my daughter never has a job that requires her dress like that, I don’t care what it pays.”  I wanted to give her my sweater.

Leaving Las Vegas photo 2

This better be as short as her hemline ever gets.

Truth is, I’m just too damn old, too damn middle-class, and definitely too much of a mom, to enjoy Vegas.

At 36, I’m too old to party late into the night and still get up in the morning like I could in my 20s—even if I still wanted to.  (The upside: I can now afford a spa visit—but I can do that at home.)  My middle-class sensibilities were irked by the multitude of stores where handbags cost more than most families living in poverty must live on for an entire year.  I kept thinking “just think what that money could do if given to a charity.”  I knew this before the trip, but darn it if Vegas didn’t confirm just how old and practical I have gotten.

But the last part—that I was too much of a mom to thoroughly enjoy Vegas—was the most surprising revelation.  I’m aware of the whole “sin city” is Vegas’ deal, and if you aren’t down for that, don’t go, thing.  But it really got to me.  This was my tenth time in Vegas, but the first time I really took stock of the multiple ways women were being sold—from billboards advertising topless shows, strip clubs, and “adult services” to the waitresses’ whose uniforms had less material than my bathing suit.  It made me sad, and I kept thinking that I hope my daughter doesn’t ever have to dress provocatively to earn a living, please a man, or just to feel attractive.

And I kept wondering: why?  Why did every woman in Vegas need to be barely dressed—even just to do a relatively normal job?  Why does our society still focus so much on women and sex?  Just like I wonder “why” each time I see a teenage girl wearing shorts that barely covers her assets.  When did baring nearly all become the norm for young girls—from Las Vegas, NV to Deerfield, IL?  And more importantly, when will it end? (By Lindsay’s Bat Mitzvah, I hope.)

Time and parenthood has turned me into a hypocrite, and I’m not proud of that.  Sure, I have never had to dress provocatively to earn a living, but I’ve worn outfits that I wouldn’t let my daughter out of the house in.  And at the time I didn’t feel “exploited”—just as I imagine a lot of women working in Vegas don’t feel that way either, probably the opposite.  But I don’t want my daughter buying into what society tells us is “sexy” for a woman—because too often it is sexist and exploits young women.  I want my daughter to know that her assets are found in her heart and her head—not in her bra.

I think this was the last time that I will leave Las Vegas.  Viva Las Vegas—but I hope someday more has changed about it than just the hotels on the strip.

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The ambiguously ethnic trio!

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08/30/2010

While the Chavis family is one of Eastern European descent, my sister and I have a running joke in which we affectionately refer to ourselves as The Sisters Chavez—a wordplay on the novel called The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The joke, however, has nothing to do with the novel. I am, if nothing else, an English major nerd at heart.

The Chavis sisters have always been somewhat of a novelty and subject of conversation, namely, because we come in three. Often, the discussion is one of pity for my poor, sonless father who relies on our family dog for male companionship—worsened only by the fact that my dog never learned the game of “catch.” When we were little, people commented on how the Chavis sisters all had extremely long, curly, hair down to our butts (yes, we were a product of the 1990s Full House generation). As we grew older it was, “Which schools are the Chavis sisters attending?” As of late, it’s “Are any of the Chavis sisters married yet?”—to which my mother solemnly replies, “No! (*clicks her tongue*) I want grandchildren!”

Chavis became “Chavez,” however, after years of people confusing just what ethnicity the Chavis sisters are. We, Sisters Chavez, are a bit of an ethnic conundrum—one that manifests differently with each of us. In general, I think Jewish people look somewhat ethnically ambiguous, partly because many of us are. However, my sisters and I all look pretty different even within the same family. My oldest sister is very fair-skinned with curly, brown-black hair, my middle sister has an olive complexion also with dark curly hair, and I (the youngest) am light skinned with freckles and reddish-brown curly hair.

My middle sister, like my parents, often gets confused for being of Hispanic, Greek or Italian origin. In fact, my dad proudly reminds us that on one or two occasions his hair dresser told him he looks like Antonio Banderas (Wishful thinking, but we all humor him).

My middle sister says when people first meet her they often give the same puzzled look, as if they’re trying to figure her out. I’ve witnessed it, particularly when I’ve gone out to dinner with her in Greek Town. Once she tells them her last name, they seem relieved because people almost always hear Chavis as “Chavez.” Poof! They have figured her out, she must be Hispanic. She must then explain that she’s mostly Russian.

My sister has always said that I (of the three sisters) look the most “American”—whatever that means? I think she means to say that I don’t have features that immediately align me with a certain ethnicity. However, people often think I’m Irish because of my freckles and big eyes. This confuses them further when they hear my first name “Blair,” (Irish) and last name, “Chavis,” which they hear as “Chavez.” In all honesty, "Chavis" was probably something else at one point, but after Ellis Island, it's anyone's guess.

My sister and I experience a strange reversal in which her physical appearance, which is ethnically ambiguous, is somehow wrongly clarified by her name; whereas my appearance is less ethnically ambiguous, to be made more ambiguous by name.

What’s the point? The Chavez sisters make for an interesting case study in what it’s like to be Jewish in America. Also, this happens so frequently to us, that it has gotten me thinking about people’s need to categorize and compartmentalize other people. This is nothing new, and is the reason stereotypes exist. However, it’s actually amusing for us to watch people become unnerved when they can’t figure us out. What does it mean to people if I’m Irish, of Hispanic origin or Russian? Will they view me differently?

In general, Jewish people have a fascination with sniffing each other out. I think it’s fair to say that a great majority of them are Jewish mothers scanning prospects for their children, however, we all do it. I’m reminded of Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song, in which he identifies movie stars who are various fractions of Jewish.

What need does it satisfy in us to ethnically or religiously place each other? Why the anxiety? Have we not progressed as much as we think?

When I meet people, I find that I rarely wonder what their ethnic background is. Like many Americans, my first question is about what they do for a living. Many Europeans, however, make fun of Americans for identifying so strongly with their professions and for that being the first question out of their mouths. I never felt so aware of my heritage as I did when I studied abroad in London during college. When I would engage with Europeans, they would ask where I was from, to which I would reply, “America.” And they would almost always follow with, “But, where are you really from?” I then would go into a long history of my family’s descent from Russia and Lithuania to Austria, America and Israel, etc., something I never had to do in the U.S. Europeans were fascinated with my ethnic history. In the U.S., we look, point and decide. Five questions in, the Europeans would ask what I did for a living.

What really defines us and what should define us? As I’ve written in a past Oy! article, as Jews it’s important to hold on to our identity and our heritage. However, are we Jewish first? Are we American first? Such questions define people’s election ballots, spouse selections and various other large life decisions.

I’m not sure there’s an easy answer as to how we should prioritize our various identities. Meanwhile, when I meet people and they give me that funny look after hearing my name, I smile, pause and often prefer not to clarify things, just so I can watch them squirm.

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If I were a character in a Keret story…

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08/27/2010

Last night acclaimed author and director Etgar Keret offered to transform into a parrot who sits on my shoulder to bear witness to my daily insanities. I didn’t take him up on his offer during the question and answer period after a reading of his short stories at the School of the Art Institute, mostly because I don’t like birds and am not sure that they are allowed by my condo association.

However, the reason I love Keret’s characters is because, if I were one, right then I would have marched up to the stage and watched as he turned into a talking bird and walked out with him. Or perhaps, more likely I would have allowed him to sign a few books for the adoring audience and then, after he grew bright blue and yellow feathers, I would have put him on my shoulder and crossed Columbus Drive.

While some will praise Keret for humanizing a generation of Israelis, my admiration of his work comes from the uninhibited, unapologetic, unconstrained ethos of the characters in his stories. And while his plotlines are unrealistic, they sit in the constraints of realism enough to make the reader relate as well as feel discomfort which inevitably evolves into an intense satiation especially in comparison to the number of words per story.

Keret taps into the darkest and probably funniest parts of the human soul and exposes them in carefully crafted narratives, although last night he said that when he writes he “never knows where the story is going to go.”

He explained that life can be paired down to a “multiple choice experience” and his characters “take their defenses off.”

As a mostly closeted fiction writer, my biggest challenge is not creating open and unrestrained characters, but feeling empowered to share them with anyone for fear of what people will think of them and of course, me.

To some degree that kind of reserve has allowed me to achieve some degree of objective personal and professional success. Had I brought the parrot home with me, he would have liked my condo. Had he come to Shorashim, he would have been reasonably impressed with the work that we do there.

But similarly to my robot-like nature in a poorly conceived attempt at a Latin dance class the other day, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to just forget the years of socialization and let my thoughts run their course wherever they might take me.

But alas, I’m not a character in a Keret story. However, I can read his works and then sit with them in what he describes as the fourth dimension, where what is good and intangible sit with us, like a parrot on our shoulder.

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Ahhhh-laska!

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08/26/2010

In July I went on an Alaskan cruise with my family. Our ship stopped in Juneau, Skagway and Victoria, Canada with a beautiful detour into the Tracy Arm Fjord. Whales and glaciers and icebergs, oh my! Alaska is amazing! I highly recommend it. Words can’t really describe it. So, instead, I’ll show you with pictures

Ahhhh-laska photo 1xx

A stream and pond in the rainforest in Juneau

Ahhhh-laska photo 3

The Mendenhall Glacier

Ahhhh-laska photo 4

Bald eagles!

Ahhhh-laska photo 5

Tracy Arm Fjord

Ahhhh-laska photo 6

Tracy Arm Fjord again

Ahhhh-laska photo 8

An enormous iceberg

Ahhhh-laska photo 9

Somewhere at sea

Ahhhh-laska photo 10

Our ship parked in Skagway

Ahhhh-laska photo 11xx

What Alaskans wear to keep warm

Ahhhh-laska photo 13

Where Alaskans keep their butts

Ahhhh-laska photo 14

Flowers in the Butchart Gardens in Victoria

Ahhhh-laska photo 15

Butchart Gardens again

Ahhhh-laska photo 16

...and again

Ahhhh-laska photo 17

Moss!

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Dave Matthews Band vs Yom Kippur

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What would you say? 
08/25/2010

Dave Matthews Band vs Yom Kippur photo

Dave Matthews jammin with Rabbi Tachman (right, with white beard)

Not since Sandy Koufax agonized over whether or not to pitch the World Series, has a choice this big been put before the Jewish people.  Yom Kippur 5771:  Should a Jew go to synagogue or to the Dave Matthews Band concert at Wrigley Field?

Ah!  So much to say and I don’t want to two-step around the issue.  First of all, there is no rhyme or reason why they had to plan a concert that I wanted to go to on Yom Kippur.  The grace is gone—concert organizers would have to be under the table dreaming and fool(s) to think that holding a second night concert at a time when I could be eating big eyed fish (and bagels) at a break-the-fast, is a viable solution.  It’s a boys dream that all comes down to nothing.

Of course, it’s a typical situation in these typical times; too many choices, yeah.  Funny the way it is, but it is not easy to be a Jew today.   And though you may wonder why you are different, why you are this way and if you could be anyone other than you, remember two things:   You are who you are and who you are (most likely if you are reading this) is a Jew.

Therefore, on this day, set before you is a choice…

Spend Kol Nidre with DMB, a rock god, the author of some amazing songs, or spend Yom Kippur evening with GOD; The ROCK, and The AUTHOR of EVERYTHING.

Spend Yom Kippur singing along with a band that has had some hits over the last decade or sing along with tunes that have been popular for thousands of years.

Sure, DMB has received some impressive awards in the past like a Grammy and the prestigious NAACP Chairman’s Award.  But really, what is this compared to The ETERNAL, who for countless generations has received daily praise from millions upon millions of people?  Can one really put the two side by side?  It’s as ridiculous as a tripping billy or the proudest monkey.

Still can’t see the light?  Could my personal bias be any clearer?

Dvar Acher—a second approach, DMB VS.YK lyrics:

First, Dave Matthews on Forgiveness:

If I've gone overboard
Then I'm begging you
To forgive me
(from Crash)

Yom Kippur on Forgiveness: 

When we say:  Al Chet, we specify our mistakes in a long list, we say the words together as a community and we pledge to take action to fix those mistakes.  At the conclusion of our prayer we say:

For all these sins, O God of mercy, forgive us, pardon us, grant us atonement! 

Does DMB do this?  Does he specify his mistakes?  No.  We don’t even know for what he is asking forgiveness!  Is it for dumping raw sewage into our otherwise pristine Chicago River?  Is it for planning two amazing concerts on nights when I can’t attend?  Who knows?  Either way, I am yet to hear his personal apology to me, because I would have gone to Wrigley for sure, and yes, on occasion, I kayak in that river.

One more comparison—What do DMB and YK say about living every moment to the fullest?

I can't believe that we would
Lie in our graves
Wondering if we had
Spent our living days well
I can't believe that we would
Lie in our graves
Dreaming of things that we
Might have been

(from Lie in our Graves)

DMB asks us to value our lives by imaging we are already being dead; lying in our graves.

On Yom Kippur, we too are to imagine ourselves as lying in our graves.   Or to put it more gently, we imagine ourselves as angels for the day.   Like angels, we neither eat, drink, nor have sexual relations, and we refrain from wearing comfortable leather clothing.  We imagine ourselves as angels, as no longer alive, so that we might reflect with a serious sense of urgency on the meaning of our lives so that we can get our priorities straight before it is too late.  Sure, DMB hints at this idea in his song, but we do it better.

Anyway, I could go on and on.  With more blog-space, I might try to find compromise in the space between, like suggesting that you attend a synagogue near Wrigley like Temple Sholom where on Yom Kippur you might hear distant Dave Matthews tunes accompanying Kol Nidre.  Or that you choose the lesser of two evils—skipping break-the-fast to go to DMB after Yom Kippur, but don’t you think eating Wrigley hotdogs would be gross after fasting all day?

And yet, after all this, if you are still debating over going to DMB on Kol Nidre or skipping Yom Kippur altogether, consider these important words:  I call Heaven and earth to witness you this day that I have set before you life or death, blessing or curse; choose life, therefore that you and your descendant may live!  (Ha, ha—how’s that for a guilt trip! Sweet you rock and sweet you roll!)

And finally…as everybody tells you, you pay for what you get and though High Holy Days tickets can sometimes be a bit more expensive than a single Dave Matthews Band concert (but not by much), what you will hopefully get by going to synagogue is a chance to seek up, with a renewed sense of purpose, meaning, inspiration and direction.  You will be partaking in a tradition thousands of years old, joining friends, family and community, and at the same time supporting institutions that transform so many lives for the better.

Truly this decision is so right, and the best of what’s around.  I mean really, what would you say?

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Fit With Krit

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08/24/2010

Did you ever work out with a personal trainer? Have you ever wondered what type of trainer I am? Watch and learn! This video blog contains a fun, full-body workout, with two trainees—Cheryl and Stefanie, your favorite Oy! editors. Watch them struggle and laugh as we work on posture, abs, arms, cardio, medicine ball, sled…. Enjoy!

   

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Culinary BFFs

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Why you should never put mayo on your corned beef sandwich
08/23/2010

Culinary BFFs photo

Classic food pairings are like best friends. Meat and potatoes, spaghetti and meatballs, red beans and rice, chocolate and raspberries, tomatoes and basil…I could go on forever. These classic combos enhance and play off each other on your palate often teasing you into wanting more. Ah, tongue titillating bliss.

As a chef, I often wonder how these food unions are born. Who thought of pairing bistro menu BFFs steak and frites or the Italian combo of sausage and peppers? Was there some culinary deity who deemed that for all of gastronomic eternity we shall eat and love peaches and cream? Maybe so, because the classic parings are truly heavenly.

Sometimes I like to push the envelope and come up with my own blends. But I am always careful. It’s like wearing jewelry. There is a fine line between chic and one piece of bling too many.
 
I have seen a lot of menu train wrecks from chefs, many of them from TV food personalities trying to be oh so au courant. Before you dip your toe into the menu writing waters you need to look at the highlight of the menu and then pick items that are seasonal, regional and complimentary, not items that are fighting for attention and blowing each other away in your mouth.

Recently, there was a bit of a scuffle regarding our President and a corned beef sandwich with—dare I say it—mayo!

Let’s skip over the part that he actually went to a corporate deli that had practically eaten alive the “revered Jewish deli institution” of Rascal House, as David Sax put it in “Save the Deli.” Rather, let’s focus on the fact that a classic Jewish amalgamation of corned beef and mustard on rye was violated in a most sacrilegious way. Don’t you know, Mr. President, that when someone orders a corned beef sandwich with mayonnaise, somewhere a Jewish mother cries?

As it turns out, the shanda sandwich Obama ordered was actually for a congressman he was dining with. Seems that mayo-gate is not so bad after all. Or is it? Jew or not, President or not, as a chef and am really, really upset by this.

I personally have “freaked out” at customers when asked for a side of white rice to go with a steak. Come on—a steak crackling and sizzling right off the grill is screaming for a potato of some kind. And some crispy, salty onions too!

There was the time a regular customer asked for ketchup to go with his Boeuf Bourguignon. After I beheaded the poor innocent waiter for asking for the offending item, I tongue-lashed the customer and then cried in the cooler. The Humanity!

Why, if I were behind the counter at the corporate deli, President or not, I would have advised him of the sandwich snafu. You cannot just go around doing things like that. It is as weird as clashing colors or atonal music. It’s not natural. It’s not right.

The point here is that some things are meant to go together. It’s natural, it’s beshert. We should celebrate and enjoy classic combinations. And if you can’t do that, at least get the mayo on the side.

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Cheers! Chicago: A toast to our mentors and teachers

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08/20/2010

We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.
~ Winston Churchill

All my life, I have been privileged to meet and interact with some amazing people. From a young age, I understood what it meant to have someone looking out for you, trying to do what’s best for you. Now that I find myself in the position of mentor, I thought I’d take a look back and raise a glass to the important role models and mentors in my life:

Of course, our parents are, in a way, our first and most present mentors by default. They are responsible for bringing us up from childhood into adulthood, guiding us along the way. They show us right from wrong, good from bad, and how to lead a good life, and they ask for nothing in return except for us to learn from their example and to grow with each lesson they teach. This is why we owe so much to our parents in our early stages of life; without their guidance, experience and knowledge about life lessons and how to lead a good life, we would all be lost or scrambling for answers trying to figure things out on our own.

In my opinion, mentors and teachers have a unique and wonderful opportunity to change people’s lives for the better. They mold young minds and guide wayward souls towards whatever goals and dreams their students might have. My parents were wonderful mentors and continue to be to this day, but there have been several others along the way to whom I owe so much gratitude.

My rabbi, Michael Siegel, is a wonderful example of how being a mentor is so important in a young child’s life. His love for Judaism and eagerness to share it was an amazing experience and showed me how important it is to take the time to teach our young ones. My second and third grade Hebrew teacher at BZAEDS, Geveret Greenberg, who still teaches there to this day, was the one who first introduced me to my love for the Hebrew language. She nurtured my natural talent for languages at an early age and taught me to pursue the things I love and to make it fun, exciting and enjoyable. Without her to guide me at such a young age, I don’t know if I would feel the same way about Hebrew.

The same nurture of talent and potential found me when I attended my first mixology academy and met the incomparable Bridget Albert. Without her patience, guidance and love for what she was doing, I would not have felt nearly as inspired and capable as a bartender/mixologist as I do now. I owe a lot to her for developing my passion and creativity for crafting top quality cocktails and the enjoyment I get from it.

As a Bar and Bat Mitzvah tutor, I am able to not only teach young children about the lessons and significance about the Tanach, but also to show them how capable they are of learning these lessons and taking them into action. I have personally seen the transformation of many of my students throughout my mentoring, from shy and unsure children into confident, capable young men and women. There is no greater feeling on earth than seeing your efforts and hard work in mentoring a child come to fruition. Sitting up there on the bimah, watching them become the men and women they have aspired and prepared to be for nearly a year of their lives, is a feeling that is indescribable (and very emotional, to say the least). Dick Gregory, a famous comedian and civil rights activist, once said it best when he said, “One of the things I keep learning is that the secret of being happy is doing things for other people.” I believe it’s the feeling of selflessness, coupled with observing the growth and ultimate accomplishment and success of that student, which truly embodies his—and my—idea of true happiness.

This year, along with continuing as a Bar and Bat Mitzvah tutor, I have the pleasure of being Anshe Emet’s USY advisor. I am really looking forward to the amazing opportunities it will give me to again be a positive and guiding force in a young person’s life, to show them their bright futures and to tap into their unlimited source of potential. I look forward to both the challenges and the rewards of mentoring in this setting, and only hope that my presence and example will serve them well as they move into adulthood.

So let’s raise our glasses of wine, beer, or grape juice and toast our mentors and teachers. Without them, the world would be a much darker place. With them, anything is possible. As Ghandi put it, “Be the change you want to see in the world,” and I couldn’t agree more.

L’Chaim!

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Things my Jewish grandma says…

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08/19/2010

Things my Jewish grandma says photo

Grandma Sally, starting me off on the right foot from a very young age

This is the first post of a new, continuing Oy! series, Things my Jewish Grandma says…If you have a Jewish grandma who says funny things, tell us about her in the comments section below or email us at  info@oychicago.com .

Grandma Sally is 90 years old.  She has accrued a lifetime’s worth of wisdom, which she is only to happy to share in the form of unsolicited advice.  Truth be told, what she says oftentimes makes sense.  She simply has an unintentionally funny way of getting her point across.  Here are just a few of Grandma Sally’s pearls of wisdom:

Never smoke a cigarette if it doesn’t have a name written on it.

--Grandma Sally doled out this practical advice to each child and grandchild as we headed off to college.  With visions of Reefer Madness dancing in her brain, she clearly was more troubled by the thought that her progeny might join a hippie commune than the thought of us smoking an arguably more life-threatening cigarette.

Watch out for California girls that tell you they’re on the pill…

--As my little brother prepared for his move to San Francisco, “the land of fruits and nuts” as Grandma calls it, she pulled him aside to offer this vague advice.  The incomplete thought implies that California girls, unlike the wholesome Illinois variety, are liars, and that alternative forms of contraception should be employed.  Needless to say, Andy didn’t stick around to hear the rest of the advice.

If you go bowling with a boy, let him win because he will feel special.

--Women’s lib be damned.  Grandma Sally believes men have fragile egos, and a loss at the bowling alley would likely mean no trip down the aisle.  Why risk our chance to land a perfect mensch just because we're feeling competitive?

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Advice for college

 Permanent link
08/17/2010

Advice for college photo

I have three cousins and 30 former students who are going to be freshmen in college next month.

If they were to ask me for advice, this is what I would tell them.

Academics

Hi (excited high school graduate). Your classes that you registered for sound great. I also wasn’t a great (insert subject) student and took (insert course). It turned out okay, but I got a lot of extra help—they have help sessions. I suggest you go to as many as possible. I ended up with a B- in the class, and that was one of my lowest grades in college, but I felt great satisfaction after finishing a course that was so hard for me.

The courses sound awesome. (Language you didn’t pass out of) will seem really basic at first, but it gets hard quickly, so just go with the easiness and try and improve your skills. I was a lazy ass my first year and got burned my second year of (said language) because it got much harder.

Go to your professors’ office hours. Introduce yourself. Go back again. Don’t stalk though. It helps your grade in the end and if you ever need a recommendation, they know who you are.

Read everything they assign even though most people won’t. Also, as a freshman you will have a ton of free time, so instead of being bored or getting into something you shouldn’t, read for your classes. Remember, you’re paying for your education so you might as well learn something and you’ll do better on the exams and sound smarter when you talk during class or when you meet with your professors during office hours.

Go to that library orientation that you’re going to want to not go to. You may think you know everything about research and computers, but you don’t.

If you are not going to celebrate Shabbat, study on Friday before everyone goes out at night or pregames. It’s a great little chunk where there’s not a lot to do on campus, it’s quiet, and you can get a lot done.

Also, do your best. Grades do count in college. Because if you do well, you can stave off the real world and go to a good graduate school and even get scholarships.

Health and Safety

Commit to going to the gym 3-4 days a week. The gym at (university) is AMAZING and you’re already paying for it with your student fees. If you do have to pay something, it’s nominal.  When you leave college, a gym membership can cost thousands of dollars. Working out will make you feel better and is good for your health. You don’t have to be the most in shape person in the world, but getting your heart rate up is a good thing. You’ll reduce your stress load, etc.

Only order the pizza/breadsticks thing maybe once a week. Less is better. The freshman 15 is no joke. You can use your time at (university) to become healthy. I’m not saying lose weight, but no need to ingest all that fat and cholesterol into your system. But you do want to treat yourself once in a while.

If you’re having issues see a therapist at school. Again, it’s cheap and you might as well deal with stuff before you get into the real world and it’s a lot harder and more expensive.

When you are at a party, always have a buddy, someone you come and leave with. Watch out for each other: having a friend around is your best protection against date rape. Agree not to leave without each other. Date rape is real and usually happens when someone is wasted. Speaking of wasted, don’t drink and drive, and don’t get in a car with someone driving drunk. People don’t drive better drunk in college.

Condoms, condoms, condoms. With that said, if you’re not having sex yet, don’t feel pressured to lose your virginity. Screw that. You’ll have sex when you’re good and ready. I have several friends who didn’t start having sex until they graduated college and they are perfectly normal, happy people.

Yes, pot is illegal, but it isn't going to kill you unless you drive or something. But it might make you waste a lot of time if you're so spaced out that you won't do as well in school. Anything beyond pot could cause
damage of some sort, usually emotional and definitely financial and possibly legal. You're better off just avoiding drugs.

Spend 30 minutes with your roommate(s) cleaning your room each week. Having a clean place to live will help you emotionally and if someone comes over, you don’t want them to have sit on three-week old pizza boxes.

Financial

Sit down with your parent(s) to figure out a realistic budget. There are so many computer programs and apps you can use to help you stick to it.

Learn how to balance a checkbook. 

DO NOT GET A CREDIT CARD THAT YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO PAY OFF EVERY MONTH.

Social

Don’t feel that you have to join a fraternity or sorority. If you want to, fine, but it’s not a necessity. If you don’t get accepted, it probably wasn’t the place for you anyways, and instead of being angry, be thankful.

Join a club or two, get involved, but remember you’re there to be a student. However, a club of some sort is a great way to make friends. And remember, a club or organization is as cool as you say or think it is. Cool is relative.

You’re going to come across ethical situations. If your instinct is that it’s wrong, then it probably is wrong. You have a good core. Look to it when you have a dilemma. If you have to rationalize something to go through with it, then you probably shouldn’t be doing it.

Don’t put anything in writing that you wouldn’t want on the front page of the Google search engine. Seriously. You’re going to get pissed off at people. You’re going to fall in love with people. Before sending out that fuck you or I love you email, wait 24 hours and see if you still think it’s a good idea. Anything can wait 24 hours, especially when you know it can be forwarded to half the world.

Employers are looking at Facebook etc., and you don’t want to lose an opportunity because you felt the need to post a photograph of you downing a shot or posing half naked. Also, if someone suggests busting out a flip cam during a makeout session, it’s time to race out of the room.

One last thing. College is not utopia. We old folks make it sound like that, but I shed plenty of tears during my four years. Not every day was good. However, it’s the only time in your life where you will get to act like an adult without any of the responsibilities of an adult. So that’s as close to Eden as any of us will ever really get.

Have a great year!

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The Top 18 Jewish Movie Soundtracks (Volume 2)

 Permanent link
08/16/2010

Fade to black hats photo 2

As promised, here are more Jewish movies with great soundtracks… this time consisting of songs previously released, then compiled just for the occasion of the movie. The nice thing about these compilations is that they offer music you might have a harder time finding, or getting into, otherwise. Again, they are presented chronologically:

1. The Graduate (1967)
It is never stated plainly that Benjamin and his folks are Jewish, but many film scholars believe they are. And since that means I get to mention a soundtrack full of Simon and Garfunkel’s greatest hits, I’ll agree. Here are “Sounds of Silence,” “Scarborough Fair,” and the indelible “Mrs. Robinson.” The music for the older generation was written by Jewish jazz composer Dave Grusin, who later arranged the horns on Simon’s hit “Late in the Evening.”

2. Radio Days (1974)
Woody Allen’s movies are always full of great old-timey songs. But this movie is set when radio was king. Allen loads the soundtrack with nearly 50 songs, from the sublime— “In the Mood,” “Begin the Beguine,”— to the ridiculous: “The Donkey Serende” and “Pistol Packin’ Mama.” Many of the songs here are Cole Porter’s, but many are by Jewish Tin Pan Alley greats: Gus Kahn, Jule Styne, Frank Loesser, et al. Also on display are the clarinet pyrotechnics of Jewish bandleaders Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw, and the sweet songbird stylings of Mia Farrow.

3. Dirty Dancing (1987)
A movie about a dance instructor better bring it when it comes to the music. “The kids” danced to “Be My Baby” and “Big Girls Don’t Cry”… and dirty-danced to “Do You Love Me,” and “Love Man.” Meanwhile, their parents learned the proper steps to the foxtrot and waltz. (Sadly, the songs written in the ’80s themselves— “Hungry Eyes,” “She’s Like the Wind,” and “The Time of My Life”— show just how badly the music had slipped backward by then.)

4. When Harry Met Sally… (1989)
Jazz standards again, the twist this time that they are performed by Harry Connick, Jr. These are songs by the Gershwins, Rogers and Hart, and Ellington, and made famous by Sinatra, Armstrong, and Fitzgerald and repopularized thanks to this soundtrack. Here also are “Winter Wonderland” by performed by Ray Charles, and “Surrey With a Fringe On Top” from Oklahoma performed… by Harry and Sally.

5. Bugsy (1991)
A movie set in Vegas would have a Rat-Pack soundtrack, but the events of this movie are those that led to the creation of the “adult Disneyland” itself. So yes, more standards, but this time with an emphasis on slower, more intense tracks performed by sensuous chanteuses like Peggy Lee, Jo Stafford, and Margaret Whiting. “Come Rain or Come Shine,” “Moonlight in Vermont,”  “Slow Boat to China,” and “Why Don’t You Do Right?” replace the upbeat tracks supporting the comedies in this list.

6. School Ties (1992)
Rock ’n’ roll cajoled its devilish way even into the insular world of this New England prep school. Early rock classics like “Rock Around the Clock,” “Smokey Joe’s Café,” and “Earth Angel” began to seep from beneath dorm room doors along with illicit cigarette smoke and to roil chaperones at sock-hops. As in The Graduate, these songs mark the line between generations, the adults still savoring “Three Coins in the Fountain” and “Isn’t it Romantic.”

7. Shine (1996) 
As befitting a film about a gifted classical pianist, the soundtrack bursts with Chopin, Liszt, Vivaldi, Beethoven… and the Rachmaninoff pieces that proved both his blessing and curse. The pianist in question is David Helfgott, and it is in fact his piano playing heard on the soundtrack. (For the record, Helfgott’s sister wrote a book refuting the portrayal of her father in the movie.)

8. Pi (1998)
A mathematician is driven slowly mad by the possiblity that he might be able to calculate the final digit of pi… and by those— from stockbrokers to kabbalists— insisting he reveal it to them. He builds a supercomputer to help him, so the soundtrack is appropritaely provided by electronica standbys like Orbital and Aphex Twin. Massive Attack provides the creeping paranoia. (Director Darren Aronofsky’s latest is The Wrestler.)

9. Wet Hot American Summer (2001)
It’s American summer camp, it’s summertime, and it’s the 1980s. So we’re talking Foreigner, KISS, Rick Springfield, Kenny Loggins… even Loverboy and Jefferson Starship. Pass the bug juice and look out for water balloons.

10. The Pianist (2002)
Another Jewish pianist in a dangerous situation, only this time not caused by a demanding father but “Der Furor” himself. Chopin, Beethoven, and Bach are what the pianist wants to play, but we also hear the klezmer and Polish songs that he heard as a child. The klezmer piece is played by the primier British klez ensemble, The Burning Bush.

11. American Splendor (2003)
Harvey Pekar, who just died in July, might have made his name with his autobiographical graphic novels, but he was also a renowned collector and critic of blues recordings. The music here ranges from the expected standards to "Escape (The Piña Colada Song) to rock by The Pretenders and The Clash. But what makes this soundtrack special are the tracks by blues shouter Jay McShann and by Pekar’s friend and collaborator, illustrator Robert Crumb, who has a roots music ensemble on the side: R. Crumb and His Cheap Suit Serenaders.

12. Garden State (2004)
Emo music goes with mumblecore movies like warm applesauce with cold latkes. Coldplay, Nick Drake, Iron & Wine, and The Shins provide the musical backing for this romantic-not-comedy. Special appearances— also in shoe-gaze mode— are made by Lionel Richie, Colin Hay (of Men at Work), and the original sad boys of popular music: Simon and Garfunkel.

13. Everything Is Illuminated (2005)
A young American Jew travels back to the Old Country to trace his roots. But the Old Country isn’t only old, which is why the soundtrack heavily features Gogol Bordello, a band that jazzily deconstructs traditional Balkan melodies and modes. Other Central-to-Eastern European bands contribute tracks like “Zvezda Rok-n-Rolla.” Fans of Balkan Beat Box and Golem will enjoy.

14. The Squid and the Whale (2005)
If “pop” is short for “popular music,” then this is “un-pop,” with folkies like Bert Jansch and the McGarrigle sisters, jokers like Loudon Wainwright III, and cult faves like Tangerine Dream and The Feelies. So as to not entirely alienate everyone by presenting only unfamiliar music, Lou Reed, Pink Floyd, The Cars, and even Bryan Adams show up. Oh, and you know that Train song that keeps going on about a band called Mr. Mister? They actually existed, and one of their songs is on here. Plus, a song from Schoolhouse Rock!

15. When Do We Eat? (2005)
Moses’ two tablets are no match for the tablets of E a kid plops in his dad’s Seder wine. This is the only soundtrack to a mainstream Jewish movie consisting of honest-to-Hashem Jewish songs. Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach and his daughter Neshama contribute tracks. So do the Phish-goes-Sephardic acts RebbeSoul, Innasense, and C. Lanzbom (of Soulfarm). There are rap tracks by Etan G and Chutzpah, which is unfortunate as there are far better Jewish-rap acts out there. But the rest of the tracks are by Mark Adler, who also did the soundtracks to The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Arthur Miller’s Focus, and more recently Bottle Shock.

16. Margot at the Wedding (2007)
You may know the bands, but you probably don’t know the songs: Steve Miller’s “Dear Mary,” Blondie’s “Union City Blue,” Donovan’s “Teen Angel,” Alice Cooper’s “You and Me,” Fleetwood Mac’s “That’s All for Everyone.” Also, remember Dinosaur Jr., X, Gilbert O’Sullivan, and the dB’s? Somebody did. Stephen Bishop’s “On and On” is here, too; you know his voice from the Tootsie soundtrack.

17. Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist (2008)
He’s in a band. Her dad’s a rock producer. They are going to a concert. Music is very important to these characters, but how’s the music in the film? Indie-licious. An amazing 37 songs are crammed into the movie’s run-time: Devandra Banhart, Bishop Allen, Vampire Weekend, We Are Scientists, Band of Horses, The National, Tapes’n Tapes, Modest Mouse… it’s like a Pitchfork Festival in your pocket. For contrast, there are tracks by Billy Joel, Dusty Springfield, and The Spice Girls.

18. Taking Woodstock (2009)
Break out the tie-dye for this, story of how some hippie Jews threw the greatest rock party ever. The soundtrack features the usual suspects: The Dead, Dylan, Janis, CSN, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane, Ravi Shankar… plus folkies like Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Richie Havens, Tim Hardin, and Simon and Garfunkel. Don’t worry, bubbeleh, there's a Yiddish song in there, too.

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Eight months

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08/13/2010

Eight months photo 1

At eight months, paper is a delicious delicacy.

Eight months can go by in a flash. As an adult, each birthday seems to come more quickly than the one before, even though they are 12 months apart, every time. Couples are engaged for an average of one full year before their wedding. Pregnancy is (generally) 40 weeks, or about nine months. I’ve been working at my job for an eight month stretch ten times over, but it often seems like just yesterday that I started.

Despite its brevity, the past eight months have altered my life forever.

My daughters Autumn and Violet are eight months old. They have officially been living in this world longer than they were growing inside me as Bug and Sprout. They are reminders of just how much can be accomplished in eight months.

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Violet (Sprout) and Autumn (Bug) at two months.

Since last December, they have learned to continuously breathe on their own. That first month at home filled with the randomly piercing alarms of the apnea monitors feels (THANK GOD) far, far away.

They have graduated from being nourished through an IV, to receiving breast milk through a tube, then nursing and drinking by bottle, and now eating some solid foods and slowly figuring out the sippy cup, even if half the water ends up on the floor.

They have quadrupled their body weight.

They have slept a lot, and in many places. They have slept in the NICU incubators, in the hospital nursery basinets, swaddled on our striped living room chairs, snuggled in bed with their mommies, sharing one crib in their nursery, and now in their own cribs, side-by-side.

They have begun their Jewish education. Autumn slept and Violet screamed through a lovely naming ceremony led by their Zayde at the synagogue where I grew up. Thanks to the first book from the PJ Library Goodnight Sh’ma , the girls hear the Sh’ma every night before bed as part of their bedtime routine.

In the past eight months they have been given their first haircuts, college savings accounts, and the largest hand-made sweater collection I can imagine. The have been seen by more doctors than I have in my entire life.

Somehow they have caught up developmentally from their adjusted age of six and a half months, to doing all the things an eight month old does—crawling, standing with assistance, babbling, eating, waving. It seems that every day a new skill is learned and discoveries are made.

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Autumn and Violet in the birthday chair at five months.

I know that as babies, we grow at a faster rate than any other time of life, but if they can be doing so much it makes me wonder what I can accomplish in eight months.

Looking back, the past eight months have taught me countless lessons. I now understand the value of getting one hour of uninterrupted sleep. I can eat an entire meal in five minutes or less. I can hold Violet while standing on one foot, my other foot rhythmically rocking Autumn in the bouncy seat, while placing a diapers.com order on my phone, and keeping my eye on the warming milk to make sure it does not overheat. I have learned that any shyness or anxiety I once had about what others might think disappears the minute I need to advocate for my children, call the health insurance company for the twentieth time (that week), or open up sealed boxes of stroller connectors and try them out in the middle of the Babies-R-Us because before purchasing, I need to know if they will actually work to link two umbrella strollers together and that said strollers will still fit through a doorway (they do not).

So what do the next eight months hold? What do I hope to accomplish by next April?  For the girls, I want to give them lots of new experiences like music and swimming classes, museum visits, and trips to visit family. I want to be less anxious about messing up a naptime and more comfortable carting them both around by myself. Personally, I would like to do more creative stuff: finish my sketchbook for The Sketchbook Project, take another class at StoryStudio (the first one was great and inspired me to write this post), and play more cello concerts for A & V.

This is just a start and I’m sure new goals will emerge in the next eight months, but I am already inspired by my daughters—to learn more, grow more, open up more, dive in more, live more. So thank you Autumn and Violet, for making my life so much richer and pushing me further than anyone else would be able to do.

Eight months photo 4

Smiling and focused: two classic looks from Miss A and Miss V.

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A self-guiding tour of the Mediterranean

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08/12/2010

In July, Esther was just setting off for her great Mediterranean adventure. She has yet to sort through her 1,000+ photos (no joke!), but she definitely has plenty to say about the trip. While her previous visits to Europe have been full of jaw-dropping cathedrals and art museums, she and her friend decided to see another, more familiar side of the Old World.

Toledo, Spain

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We found ourselves in the Jewish Quarter by accident: one tight medieval street led to another, and suddenly we spotted Calle de Samuel Levi—where else could we be? Turn left at the monastery and you see, above a high stone wall, a sign for Museo Sefardi, Sinagoga del Transito. Across the street was a little park, which ended with the most extraordinary lookout over the river, with a cliff on the other side. The place was special. You didn’t want to leave and you didn’t want to say anything. An Austrian traveler asked us to take her photo there, because she “love[s] the way the place makes you feel.”

We went to the museum the next day. The synagogue was built in 1366, repurposed as a church after the Expulsion, and restored as a Jewish site in the early 20th century, after long years in disrepair. The remnants of this great Sephardic temple were breathtaking. The exhibit itself, however, was off somehow. It wasn’t until I started reading the English translations it hit me: Spanish Jewry was being framed as a strange, dead culture just beyond the grasp of contemporary understanding.

The Jewish story was not presented by Jews or for Jews, and it showed. Case upon case displayed artifacts: small oil lamps from Israel, Roman coins from the age of Herod, shards of pottery with menorah reliefs, a glowing account of Toledo Jews by the Umayyid ruler; at the end of the small corridor was an Edict of Expulsion. History stopped in 1492, and save for some marriage costumes from the 19th century and a collection of modern religious implements (yadayim, siddurim, mezzuzot, ketubim), you’d never think another Jew had been spotted in Spain since. The text took no responsibility for the Expulsion, and made no mention of contemporary Jewry, or what the lessons of intolerance might teach us. According to this exhibit, the Jews had no bearing on modern Spain. These artifacts were a collection of curiosities.

At its height, the Jewish community in Toledo numbered in the thousands. We asked a docent how many Jews lived here now. One family, she told us.

Outside, in the rest of the city, every tourist trap is brimming with Judaica. Stars of David and menorahs are everywhere. You can buy beautiful Jewish-themed engraved woodwork and painted tiles and silver jewelry and damescene pottery. Toledo calls itself the Universal City, in honor of the coexistence of the three Abrahamic religions within its boundaries. When we walked by the site of the Jewish Information Center, it was shuttered and empty, anti-Semitic graffiti (likely from the time of Operation Cast Lead) still legible on its walls.

Rome, Italy

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Everyone in Italy asked me if I was Italian (or they did before I opened my mouth and revealed my rusty command of the language). I always answered that I was American, but in Florence, the man at the leather shop next to Santa Croce took one look at me and asked if I was Jewish. He and his family, who owned the shop, were Jews from Morocco and Lebanon. He wanted to know where my family was from; I told him Lithuania, but with a caveat of an oral account of being Spanish or Italian, once upon a time. My grandmother’s last name was Sabad. “That’s a very Sephardic name,” he said, nodding.

Rome is small. The guidebooks are terrifying, because the options seem endless, but in the central city, nothing is very far apart. We set out from our hostel near the train station, and fifteen minutes later we caught glimpses of the Coliseum between streets. The Jewish Ghetto is right on the Tiber. The walls and gates are long gone, as are the original buildings and layout (gleefully destroyed after 1870, the year of the Emancipation of Roman Jews, the last in Italy still so confined). Four kosher restaurants occupy a street behind the main synagogue. We chose one at random; I ate the best artichoke I’ve ever had in my life, and that was just the appetizer. Our waiter was an Egyptian Jew named Shiri, and possibly the most gorgeous human being I’d ever seen up close.

At the Museo Ebraico, also the home of a living community, the security was tight: the memory of a terrorist attack in 1982 that killed a toddler has remained fresh. We had to search for an entrance, go through checkpoints, and we weren’t allowed to take photos of certain areas. The ticket included a mandatory guided tour; it was the only way to see the Tempio Maggiore, another triumphal edifice built high in 1904.

The Museo Ebraico was a vibrant experience, a proud display of points along a continuous Jewish experience. We learned that there are about 35,000 Jews in Italy, about 14,000 of whom live in Rome. About 4,000 of them are Libyan Jews who fled Tripoli after pogroms in response to the 1967 War. In the collection we saw incredible embroidered Torah covers, oral histories from locals, original copies of papal edicts outlining the rights of Roman Jews, evidence of Jews in Classical Rome, fascist-era letters and propaganda—clearly the list goes on.

I was struck by the weight the museum gave the Holocaust. Certainly it was a feature: one plaque in the ghetto lists the names of Jewish Italians who died fighting in the World Wars; another soberly memorializes the 235 students at this school who were rounded up and deported to Auschwitz. Most haunting is the Nazi ransom on Jewish Romans, in which they promised safety in exchange for 110 pounds of gold, if it could be collected in 48 hours. Needless to say, the pact was not honored. Still, there is a joyous undercurrent to the Museo Ebraico; the most-mentioned historical event is not the Shoah but the abolition of the ghetto.

Jerusalem, Israel

Within minutes of reuniting with my aunt and uncle, whom I had not seen since 1991, I was laughing. My mom and my aunt insist they are very different people, but I saw them in each other: the way they moved, the way they held their hands, the way their faces changed as they listened and spoke. We spent a lot of time just talking and hanging out—in fact, one evening my aunt and I were up until 2 a.m., rambling like friends in a freshman dorm. My uncle smiled and reminded me that she doesn’t have a chance to gab like this: she doesn’t have any daughters.

My cousin was supposed to meet us at the Central Bus Station, but it was his girlfriend who showed up to collect us. I fell in love with her in about five minutes. Probably half my conversations with my aunt included her wondering when he would propose, and why he hadn’t yet. The four of us went out the night we arrived, my cousin, his girlfriend, my friend and me. I had sachlab and quickly fell in love with that too. By nature I’m a night owl, and even though we’d had a long day in transit, I thought I could get used to this long, late schedule.

We took it easy in Israel, after two breakneck weeks in Italy and Spain. We’d wake up, my aunt would feed us (and feed us… and feed us!), and then we would catch a bus, to see the Old City or the Dead Sea or wherever else we were headed that day. For whatever reason, I was more content to just hang out than actively record this leg of the trip, so the pictures I have of Israel are mostly of the Wadi David. In the evenings we’d have more meals and more conversation. Not only was it a relief after all that travel, but I began to feel quite close to my aunt and uncle and cousin. We all got along incredibly well, and I found myself wishing we could see each other more often.

Our last full day was a Saturday. We had seats on a 1 a.m. sherut taxi to the airport; I had to constantly refrain from thinking of it as a cheroot, which is a kind of cigar. I’m not used to consciously, regularly setting aside a day for relaxation. At home, Saturday is the day I get things accomplished, like writing or decorating or grocery shopping. My cousin and his girlfriend invited us to her apartment for the afternoon: she had assembled a gorgeous picnic, which we took at a little park nearby. It was quiet and peaceful, and after the food we all just lay there in the shade of the pines. I could get used to this too, I thought.

Three days after we left Jerusalem, my cousin asked his girlfriend to marry him. My aunt, of course, was jokingly aggravated that he hadn’t done so while we were there, so we could have had a party, but hey, all’s well that ends well. If schedules and plane tickets work out, there are worse reasons to visit than for a fabulously well-matched wedding.

A self-guiding tour of the Mediterranean photo 4

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Kindling change

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08/11/2010

Kindling change photo

Seven months ago, my life changed.

Now usually when you hear someone say that, you immediately think, “They went through a tragedy!” or “They moved to a new place!” or “Something monumental occurred in their life!” But nothing tragic, or monumental, changed, or happened, to me. It was actually something quite small that changed—or rather, I acquired something small that changed—my life as I knew it.

I got an Amazon Kindle for Chanukah.

All right, while this may not sound like a huge life-changing event, let me explain my reasoning behind this. I am a huge reader. Not like a normal person who likes to read a lot. Oh no, I read way beyond the normal amount. So much that when I was younger my parents would punish me by taking away my books. So much that sometimes work, chores, even going out with friends can all take a backseat when it comes to reading. Because when I start a new book, you can bet I won’t be setting it down until I finish it. I usually stay up the whole night until I finish a book. I’m not patient enough to “save it for later” like my parents—disgruntled over how much I spend on books—want me to. I devour books like a starved human presented with a feast.

Now this can be an issue some…all right, most…of the time. Not only do I blow through my money buying the next book in a series as soon as it comes out (meaning the hardcover, thus more expensive) but also when I’m finished reading my books, where do they go?

I used to put them on my bookshelf in my room, but I ran out of space. So now I have boxes upon boxes of books going into storage. I could sell them, but I also like to reread my books over and over (so much that I can probably recite all my books by heart…remember, I did say this was not normal…). Another space problem comes from going on vacation. I once read 25 books while on a two-week vacation with my family. And most of those books were bought while on said vacation. So coming home, I had about 23 extra books to bring home. That’s like a whole other suitcase that I DIDN’T have at my disposal.

I could get books from the library, but then my issues of wanting to reread books and not being able to conveniently get more while on vacation pop up again.

Now that I’ve explained a little better, hopefully you can see how receiving an e-reader like the Amazon Kindle can change my life. Because it did.

Gone were the days that I had to drive to the bookstore to buy a hardcover book to find out “What happens next?!?” Gone were the days where I had to lug around an extra 20 pounds in my suitcase. Gone were the days when I had a bulging purse, trying to sneak a book wherever I was going.

This small, .3 inch thick, 10.2-ounce piece of plastic completely revolutionized my life.

While it solved most of my previous problems my reading-addiction presented, it did create some new ones. Like further enabling my reading-addiction.

Amazon has this neat little feature where if you want a new book, you don’t even need to go to a computer. Nope, all you have to do is flip on the Wifi on your Kindle, search through the 620,000+ books Amazon has in digital form, and click the Buy button. In a few seconds, you hold in your hands a whole new book. And just like that, your bank account loses a little bit of substance.

Since there is little effort needed to buy a new book, I sometimes forget that by clicking that little rectangular Buy button, I’m actually spending real, live cash money. I forget it’s not free. And that’s when I start racking up the expenses. And that’s when I get angry calls from my mom wondering what in the world I keep buying from Amazon everyday. And that’s when I go broke.

I guess there really is no solution to my “problem” besides quitting cold turkey—which is NEVER going to happen. All I can say is my Kindle has slowly become my most prized possession. You can have all your iPads and nooks and Alex eReaders, just leave me with my sweet and simple Kindle…and my bank account.

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Tales of a Rabbi’s Kid

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08/10/2010

Tales of a Rabbi’s Kid photo 1

Trip to Paris with my dad

I’m an RK.  That’s right.  My dad is a rabbi which makes me a “Rabbi’s Kid,” or an RK, as we like to call ourselves.  I didn’t always like having this as part of my identity (but I’ve since changed my mind).  The response I’ve always received when people learn this about me is fascinating.  When it first comes up, people look at you a little differently.

“So, are you really religious?”

“Do you know the Torah by heart?”

“I didn’t realize rabbis could have kids…” (that was always my favorite).

There is some sort of awe-inspiring respect that most people have for rabbis that I just don’t get.  It’s just like your dad being a lawyer, or a doctor, or a plumber.  All dads have jobs, but when they come home, they’re just dad.

My dad is an awesome rabbi.  He’s been at the same small congregation in Muskegon, MI for 34 years.  He’ll deny that he’s anything special, but ask anyone in the Muskegon community, Jewish or not, and not only do they know him, but their eyes light up and have something kind and wonderful to say about him.  Yup, that’s my dad.

Tales of a Rabbi’s Kid photo 2

Watching fireworks at Disneyland

Sounds wonderful now, but if only people knew what it was really like growing up as the rabbi’s kid in a small congregation of about 50 families. Shabbat, which I now consider a relaxing, joyous, and prized weekly occurrence, was dreaded.

From the outside, it probably looked like a nice family dinner followed by services, the Alpert family sitting in the front row while my dad stood before the congregation.  On the inside, it was a stressful, scarfed-down meal followed by a frantic rush to get to the synagogue to set up (no custodian or office staff—Rabbi Dad had to be the first there to unlock the doors).

Once there, we would usually draw a crowd of 8-12 and my siblings and I were the only youngins under the age of 30.  We’d have to sit through a service we never understood, the same one every week, and then socialize with the grown-ups after.  All this on Friday nights, while our peers were off at the movies, at football games or hanging out with friends.

We would do what we could to get out of it (sorry Mom and Dad, we really weren’t sick that many Friday nights), but our guilty consciences always brought us back week after week.

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What eight-year-old Aleza didn’t understand then was that those Friday nights made us a community, and that is what Shabbat is all about.  It wasn’t until I left home that I really began to appreciate Shabbat.  I began to see it as a break from the rest of the week.  It’s what I like to consider my weekly spiritual deep breath; it doesn’t matter how I celebrate, as long as I take time to relax.

While I felt tortured when I was younger, I now see the strength and love that comes from my Jewish family in Muskegon.  We may be small, but we are mighty.  These people have watched me grow, and I feel like they consider me one of their own daughters.

While-eight-year old Aleza wanted to be a “normal” kid, I wouldn’t trade anything for the sense of community I have from my hometown.  Now, I am proud to be a Rabbi’s Kid and there is no other place I’d want to be for any Jewish holiday than Muskegon, MI sitting in the front row watching my dad lead a congregation of people who love him and his family.

This article was originally posted in  Alef: The NEXT Converstion , project from  Birthright Israel NEXT .   Click here  to read other Shabbat themed articles.

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If you can’t meet ‘em, join ‘em

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08/09/2010

If you’re looking to meet new people, the most common advice you’re likely to receive is to “join.” Sign up for mixers! Go to a meetup! Enroll in a class! Before I knew any better, I doled out said advice on my very own blog.

Now I know better.

It’s not that joining is a bad idea, but the advice is misleading. It’s only half the story. A more appropriate suggestion would be to “Join a [insert activity here].” Because you can’t sign up for just anything. At least not if you want to meet people quickly. Some activities don’t lend themselves to interaction. Take my Cardio Hip Hop class. I relished the hour I spent dancing and sweating, but the class consisted of showing up, learning a routine, and leaving. There was no partner boogie or getting-to-know-you games. To meet someone I’d have to do the work myself, and avoiding that work is precisely why I signed up in the first place.

If I’m paying to join something with the primary goal of meeting people, I want someone else to do the introduction legwork. So no, Cardio Hip Hop is not the perfect option for meeting new people. Nor is yoga.

You know what is? Improv.

Yup, that’s right. I’m taking an improv class. I’m pretty embarrassed to share this since I’m not a performer. I can come up with a witty one-liner…sometimes…but when it comes to creating and inhabiting another character? Not really my thing. A few weeks ago I was given an action and emotion: “You’re raking leaves, and you’re feisty,” my teacher said. “And no talking. Go.” Um, have you ever tried to silently rake leaves fiestily? Surprise! I wasn’t very good at it. Whatever. I get to play make believe for 2.5 hours and it’s the perfect forum to make new friends because I’m forced to open up, embrace the ensemble, and get to know my classmates.

Never in a million years would I have taken an improv class if I wasn’t dedicated to this search. Just thinking about it makes me awkward. But after two people said I had to try it, I did. Often it’s not so much about signing up for what you love as it is joining that which you’re willing to try and will force you to interact with other human beings.

Another common “joining” suggestion is religious groups. I’m Jewish, but I wouldn’t count myself as religious. I’m nervous that my presence at a Jewish mixer would be suspect. Like Hugh Grant in About a Boy when he joins a single parents support group to meet hot moms, even though he has no kids. I mean, I am Jewish, so I wouldn’t be lying, but is there a code of honor that says showing up solely to meet new people is wrong? Shouldn’t I care more about the subject matter?

So yeah, joining’s great in theory. In practice, it’s complicated. You’ve got to be picky about where you allocate your precious time if making new friends fast is the end goal.

Any activity suggestions for the aspiring friender? An unexpected-but-awesome tip that came my way lately is Roller Derby. Now that would be badass.

Read more about new Oy! blogger Rachel’s quest to meet her new BFF.

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Questions for a hero

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08/06/2010

Natan Sharansky currently serves as Chairman of the Jewish Agency for Israel photo 1

Natan Sharansky currently serves as Chairman of the Jewish Agency for Israel.

In the past couple of weeks, I’ve been thinking about questions to ask Natan Sharansky. In fact, I’ve got a list in my head as I prepare to possibly interview the man who has inspired countless Russian-speaking Jews to fight for their right to practice Jewishly.

Let me back up a bit. Born Anatoliy Shcharanskiy in the Ukraine, Sharansky is now the head of the Jewish Agency for Israel, which promotes aliyah and Jewish identity. But his path to this position has been thorny.

A scientist and childhood chess prodigy, Sharansky sought to move to Israel in the early 1970s and was denied the exit visa in 1973. This prompted him to become a human rights activist and a spokesperson for the Moscow Helsinki Group, which was headed by the Academician Sakharov. Group members were outspoken critics of the Soviet government and its abuse of basic human rights. The tough political atmosphere was further exacerbated for Jews, who had more affinity with Israel than the Soviet Union, where anti-Semitism was pervasive and organized religion was forbidden.

The denial of an exit visa marked the beginning of Refusenik life for Sharansky, who became active in the international movement to let Soviet Jewry emigrate. Convicted in 1978 of treason and spying on behalf of the United States, Sharansky was sentenced to 13 years in prison, serving part of his sentence in the Siberian Gulag.

Under pressure from the American Jewish community and after direct intervention from President Reagan—who were alerted to his plight by his indefatigable wife, Avital—Sharansky was freed and allowed to immigrate to Israel in 1986. He became involved in Israeli politics, served in the Knesset and as a Cabinet Minister.\

Questions for a hero photo 2

Natan Sharansky and his wife Avital were reunited in 1986 after he was allowed to emigrate.

Sharansky’s story of steadfast commitment to his ideals is beyond inspiring to those of us whose families come from the former Soviet Union and who know firsthand (or from our parents’ stories) what it means to be denied school admission, a job or a home because of that pesky “fifth line” in the passport that used to say “Jewish” under the “Ethnic origin” category.

Under the guise of building a “new Soviet person,” the Soviet government suppressed all outward signs of separate identity. Jews helped create the Soviet Union because of the belief that socialism would grant them the rights they never had under the czars. Yet their own cultural and religious heritage was suppressed by rulers who believed that belonging to any group—be it Jews, Tatars or Georgians—would preclude a person from loyalty to the state.

My own family, while not directly involved in the Refusenik movement, taught me about Sharansky and everything he stood for at a very young age, before it was a safe topic of discussion in Russia. Now, I’ve got a unique chance to interview him when he gives the keynote address at the JUF Annual Meeting Sept. 15.

My list of questions is pretty long already, but I’d love to know what you, our Oy! readers, would ask him if you had the chance. Please submit your questions in the comments—either in English or Russian as I’m hoping to interview him in both languages.

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Bat mitzvah for non-schmucks…

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08/05/2010

Now I know what “going viral” really means. My dear friend, Gabrielle Birkner, who I met in college at Northwestern, once told me in passing that Paul Rudd deejayed her bat mitzvah back in 1992 before he was a star. I didn’t think much of it (in fact I thought she was kidding) until this video landed at my computer yesterday afternoon, sent to me by a friend of mine who doesn’t even know Gabi, who is now a sophisticated web editor at “The Jewish Daily Forward” in Manhattan. The video is everywhere, all over the web, on Perez Hilton, on MTV, and Gabi and Paul even made it onto Jon Stewart last night. Last summer, I had the honor of standing up in Gabi’s wedding but, alas, our “Clueless” friend did not deejay. Pictured below is Gabi dancing—this time as a bride—and in a much less poufy dress—the hora with some cute little kid and me. Enjoy the retro ride back to Gabi’s bat mitzvah!

Bat mitzvah for non-schmucks photo 1

 

Paul Rudd Was My Bat Mitzvah DJ

By Gabrielle Birkner

Paul Rudd: Bat Mitzvah DJ from Jewish Forward on Vimeo.

Before Paul Rudd broke into television and movies, the “Dinner for Schmucks” star was working the bar and bat mitzvah circuit in L.A.’s San Fernando Valley. He emceed my bat mitzvah party, back in 1992 — months before landing a recurring role on the NBC drama “Sisters.” (“Clueless” was still a few years off.)

The soft-spoken aspiring actor whom my mom and I met on the hunt for bat mitzvah DJs — I took an immediate liking to Rudd — turned out to be the perfect choice for the event. Rudd, donning a yellow tuxedo jacket, a ruffled shirt, shorts and Doc Martens, ably and energetically led us through all of the bat mitzvah staples: candle-lighting, Coke & Pepsi, toasts, limbo, “Hands Up,” challah-cutting and “YMCA.” And as the “Today” show-themed bat mitzvah party came to a close, he invited my friends onto the dance floor to sing a moving rendition of “That’s What Friends Are For.”

He’s come a long way, to be sure. The movie “Dinner for Schmucks” — in which Rudd stars alongside Steve Carrell — opened last weekend to a bevy of rave reviews. So I thought it would be a fitting time to share some footage of Rudd holding court at my bat mitzvah. That’s me, in the pink dress that I wrote about here, seeming to take the limbo way too seriously.

A big thanks to “Cousin Freya” for sending me the footage, and Nate Lavey for editing it down.
The Sisterhood—Forward.com

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The List

 Permanent link
The Great Rabbino brings you the most important Jews in sports
08/04/2010

A while back I posted the top 10 best Jews in sports. But today TGR takes a look at the most important Jews in sports. This includes more than just players. I searched owners, executives, players (current and retired), sportswriters, commissioners, and anyone else related to the sports world. See what you think about the list below. Here are the Honorable Mentions: Al Davis, Mike Cammalleri, Kevin Youkilies, Jeff Idelson, Chris Berman, Shahar Peer, and Ike Davis.

THE LIST

10) Sandy Koufax
So you be like, Koufax doesn't play anymore! Yes, I am aware of this. But Koufax is and will always be the most influential Jewish athlete. He is who every Jewish athlete aspires to be. I could not make this list without him.

9) Ryan Braun
If Koufax was then, Braun is now. While Youkilis might be better (the debate continues), Braun is the Hebrew Hammer. He has better PR and was voted in by the fans as an All Star, a team Youkilis didn't make.

8) Yuri Foreman
Foreman's rabbinical future and national exposure places him on this list. While he lost the big fight, he won the hearts of Jewish sports fans everywhere. Mike Cammalleri was heavily debated for this spot as well because of his dominance in the NHL playoffs.

7) Jerry Reinsdorf
Other owners were considered, but Reinsdorf owns two winning teams, the White Sox and Bulls. He also made a bid for the Coyotes. With seven total championships (6 Bulls, 1 White Sox) it would impossible to leave him off this list.

6) Theo Epstein
Epstein is the name running one of the most powerful franchises in all of sports. That’s enough right?

5) Mark Cuban
Cuban is the most vocal of anyone on this list. He has been desperately trying to buy a baseball team. He cares and lets you know. Cuban's Mavericks are always in contention. His passion, success, and recognition make him  #5.

4) David Stern
He could have been higher. As the commissioner of the NBA, Stern has made major decisions like the WNBA and forcing players to go to college for a year. Stern is influential, just not always in the spotlight.

3) Omri Casspi
Casspi has made news. He has a huge following. And most importantly has put Israel on the map for a major sport. He has handled the success with class. 

2) Bud Selig
Selig runs baseball, which is the most important sport in America (at least for Jews). While he is in the spotlight mostly for the steroid scandal, Selig is the powerful Jew in sports.

1) Micky Arison
A month ago Arison was not even on the list. So why is he number one? Well, when you as an owner convince Wade, Bosh, and that other guy to come and play for your basketball team, you become important. Very important. While I hate to say this, Arison will be racking up championships and that is just a fact.

Comment if you think I left someone out. Or shoot me an email at info@thegreatrabbino.com.

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine

For more information on Jewish in Sports check out  WWW.THEGREATRABBINO.COM

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My take on “This is Where I Leave You”

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08/03/2010

My take on “This is Where I Leave You” photo

In my line of work, I deal with helping people find their Jewish identity all of the time. In my personal life I struggle with finding “the one.” It's no wonder that “This is Where I Leave You” stayed on my brain for several weeks. Plus, I was lucky enough to meet the author, Jonathan Tropper, at a reading of the paperback in Chicago.

It shook me as I wondered how I could enjoy the journey and the persona of the protagonist, while at the same time loathing his misogynist and superficial summations of women and what a man wants in a woman.

In fact, Judd Foxman, the Jewish male main character, espouses what I’ve suspected men thought all along: if you aren’t a woman who looks like a model, you aren’t much of a woman at all.

Despite my disappointment in Judd, I still adored him. It reminded me of my favorite quote from “Eat, Pray Love,” a book that I initially loved and then wanted to burn at the end of reading it: “I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential...I have been a victim of my own optimism.”

Could Judd possibly be as big of an asshole as he seemed? Is this really how men are? How they think?

Mr. Tropper answered my question before a small crowd at Borders earlier this month. He said, there is a part of all men that are like that. However, Judd is wearing the lenses of a man (and this is on the back of the book, so I’m not a spoiler) whose beloved wife has slept with his boss for an entire year and he has just found out about it. He is emasculated, humiliated, and devastated. Of course he is going to look at women negatively.

Okay, Mr. Tropper has rented some sympathy for Judd. But then I realized a guilty truth: had Judd been a woman whose husband had cheated on her, I would have had no problem with the male depictions in the book. It was just jarring to read it from a different perspective. The female characters include three adulterous women, a therapist engaged to her patient, and a mother more eccentric than the Barbra Streisand character in “Meet the Fockers.”

This made me realize that no matter how empathetic I may think I am, at times I will jump to the wrong conclusions about what motivates people and characters to do what they do and think what they think.

In what I think was the most poignant part of the book, Judd realizes what he has thought all along about his relationship with his brother is inaccurate and skewed. I too frequently fall into that pattern—I think most of us do.

At the book reading, I asked Mr. Tropper if he is Jewish. He said that he is (looking surprised that I asked) and that it would have been really gutsy for someone not Jewish to write a book about a family observing shiva. Then he went on to dismiss the notion (which I didn’t suggest at the time, but many others had) that this is a Jewish book.

It's laughable that he doesn’t believe “This is Where I Leave You” is a Jewish book. The only people who might agree with him are Philip Roth and Woody Allen, but I maintain this is one of the most Jewish books to come out in the last few years.

It’s not just the setting that is Jewish, but the conflicts faced by the characters. This doesn’t mean that the book is not appealing to all audiences, but “This is Where I Leave You” deals with Jewish apathy, identity problems, and intermarriage, as well as faithlessness and dysfunctional relationships between parents and their children.

I wouldn't label Mr. Tropper a self-hater, but it did make me sad to see this disdain on his face towards owning his Jewishness positively.

It's such a shame Mr. Tropper isn't Birthright eligible so he could work some of these issues out. I would love to bring Mr. Tropper to a lively Shabbat meal where intellectual issues are discussed. I would love to show him that there can be more to Judaism than lox and bagels.

Mr. Tropper, there's no shame in calling “This is Where I Leave You” a Jewish book, as I doubt Jhumpa Lahir would run from calling “The Namesake” an Indian book. Similarly, the Indian community has lauded her, and if you would let it, the Jewish community would be admirers of your work as well.

Besides, the spread that they will have at the JCC will probably be better than that ice coffee you drank at Borders.

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My Baby's Daddy

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08/02/2010

My Baby’s Daddy photo

Lindsay with Daddy ready for her first sled ride at Camp O.S.R.U.I.

Just last week, my slightly- vain 30-something husband came down the stairs wearing shorts, black socks, and yes, sandals.  Being the loving wife that I am, I gently pointed out his fashion faux-pas (ok, so maybe I was on the floor laughing) only to be shocked at his complete indifference, and worse, refusal to change—or at least take off—the socks.

It’s official: I’m married to a dad.

Somehow during my 10 months of pregnancy (yes, that’s right—42 weeks—do the math), as I tried to prepare for all the changes motherhood would bring, I never really considered how fatherhood would change my husband.

I’m not referring to the big stuff changes that happen once you have a child—ranging from changes in your perspectives, priorities, values, lifestyles, and even politics.  For us, having a child really changed so many of these things—some we are still trying to figure out.

I’m referring to the little changes and new traits that emerge and one day you suddenly find yourself married to a “Dad.”  A man who has no problem carrying a pink flowery diaper bag, who in public speaks fluent baby talk to his daughter, and is not above using the ladies room if that is the only bathroom where the changing table is.  You find yourself wondering what happened to the man who once proclaimed that he could never change a diaper without gagging, who now makes up songs about it, or where the man who once never left with so much as a spot on his shirt now often goes to work wrinkled.  And you find yourself loving this new person all the more for his/her selflessness and devotion to being a parent.  (And you figure once your kid is old enough to be embarrassed by his/her appearance, you might get the snazzy dresser back.)

Witnessing some of these changes can even make you fall in love with your significant other all over again.  I realize this every time I hear my husband’s Elmo voice. My husband has always been great with voice impersonations—especially George W. Bush and any line from Harlem Nights.  But now instead of Eddie Murphy lines, I will hear a high-pitched Elmo voice “Oh, that tickles Elmo the most!”   I love this silly side that I just didn’t get the chance to see much of before.

(Incidentally, on Purim, my husband used his Elmo voice for a reading.  The kids were hypnotized. Afterwards, a mother came up and told him that her VERY excited daughter had turned to her and said, “Mommy, I didn’t know that Elmo was Jewish!”)

And some of these changes can be really practical and useful, such as my husband’s newfound interest in having a clean home.  The same man who once could go years without cleaning his toilet now follows me around the house with a dustbuster.  That’s not to say he has suddenly become a neat freak—he’s just started to do and care more.  But it’s a start, and I’ll take it.

As great as some of these changes are, there are, of course some changes and new traits that I could live without.  You know, black socks and sandals aren’t exactly a turn-on.  (He would probably say the same about my sweats and t-shirts but hey, this is about him).  And I could totally live without the “Activity Dad” that takes possession of my husband’s body on the weekend. Before my daughter was born, my husband liked nothing better than to spend his off-duty time relaxing. And I liked it that way.  But now nary a weekend goes by without at least one big family activity.  The same person who once proclaimed that a day off spent doing absolutely nothing was the perfect day, now rides Mommy’s ass on the weekend mornings to hurry out the door for these activities.  Seriously, is it too much to ask to have a half hour—time I don’t have during the week—to take care of some personal grooming?

Of course, all this is trivial to the fact that my husband is an absolutely amazing father.  And I can’t express just how special it is has been to watch my daughter and husband together—to see how much they both love and adore each other.  Raising a child together has truly taught me how love grows over the years.  Black socks and all.

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RANSOM

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07/29/2010

The idea was hatched one incredible day in May. “What if there was a party and all the invites were actually ransom notes?” And so the party planning began.

My accomplices and I had our first top secret meeting and formed the outline for a top secret ransom note party. We would steal from our friends, send them ransom notes, and make them bring various items (mostly things that make for a good party, like frozen pizza and Solo cups, but also random things, like toy soldiers, watercolors and Metamucil) to a party in exchange for their stuff back.

For the next month we went around thieving. We didn’t take anything terribly important, but things people would probably want back, like a Wii remote cover, a framed photo, a stuffed animal, a sofa cushion, Duck Walk menus and the OC on DVD. We took things from ourselves to hide our tracks. Once enough items were secured, we sent everyone (including ourselves) ransom notes with cut out magazine letters. It went a little something like this:

NO COPS photo 1

HEY YOU! I HAVE YOUR ATHENS ROAD TRIP PHOTO ALBUM. IF YOU WANT IT BACK UNHARMED, BRING A CARDBOARD BABY AND YOUR FAVORITE BOOZE TO 3806 N. KENMORE AVENUE IN THE BASEMENT ON JULY 24TH AT 8. I WILL HAVE BEER. AND SOME CHIPS. I’LL BLOW THE PLACE UP!
RSVP TO:
  IHAVEYOURLOVEDONE@GMAIL.COM
GET UPDATES ON YOUR SHIT AT  TWITTER.COM/IHAVEYOURLOVED1

The day the notes were delivered we feverishly checked ihaveyourlovedone@gmail.com and twitter.com/ihaveyourloved1 for RSVPs. We got some great ones, like:

Unfortunately I will not be able to attend as I have a work commitment. If my loved one is Dan, please harm away… Also if you read your email as "I have your love done" instead of "I have your loved one" it makes you seem like a baker who makes heart shaped cakes.

and

I AM SORRY I CANNOT COME, KIDNAPPER. YOU CAN HAVE SUN CHIPS WHENEVER YOU LIKE, JUST STOP BY. WE CAN EAT THEM TOGETHER AND TALK ABOUT YELLING. AND YOUR GRAMMAR, MAYBE.

and

Unfortunately, I have a wedding that night so I don't think I'm going to make it. Also, nothing you can do to that sofa cushion is worse than what I've already done to it.

I had some gchat conversations with the ransomed, like:

Kari:  i'm just gonna tell you, sorry if i ruin the surprise
          someone took my doormat a few days ago, i was confused
          and then i got a letter addressed to me and dan
          and basically its being held ransom for a party in july
          i have to bring queso to get it back

and

Emily:  dude, did you get a letter in the mail?
me:      i get letters all the time
Emily:  emmy and i got this letter, it’s like a ransom letter
            and they have my ceramic turtle, it’s been missing for awhile
me:      kari was telling me something similar
Emily:  oh yeahh??
me:      doormat
Emily:  they have a twitter account and it said something about a doormat

I acted surprised and kept my knowledge and excitement under wraps. I had to remember what I had been told and what Kid Napper had been told because if someone asked if Scott was coming, I couldn’t answer truthfully with, “No, he’s going to his Grandma’s 80th birthday party,” because I, myself, did not know this information, but I, Kid Napper, knew all about it.

And then the accusations started rolling in. I was accused immediately, but kept placing the blame on other people. I’d say, “No, I didn’t do this, but I wish I had. It’s such a good idea! It seems a lot like something Steve would do. He’s got a lot of time to kill during work.” We took direct quotes from people’s Facebook pages and posted them on Twitter. We tried tweeting in a way that didn’t sound like us, which pretty much just involved TYPING IN ALL CAPS AND USING POOR GRAMMAR.

It was especially hard to lie to my roommate. We tell each other everything. She’s pretty much my living breathing external hard drive. When I’d need to meet my fellow Kid Nappers for planning meetings I’d put on workout clothes and tell her I was going to the gym, but actually go to someone’s apartment and come home at precisely the right time to make it look like I went to a class. I cleared the history on my internet browser after I used it each time. I couldn’t have her borrowing my computer and seeing I was logged in to Twitter as ihaveyourloved1.

I was anxious all the time, but I also had uncontrollable fits of laughter at inappropriate times. I couldn’t stop thinking about how we planned to have a chandelier fall from the ceiling when everyone got there and mannequins tied up with sacks over their heads and a tape recorder screaming “Help me! Help me!” and how we wanted one of us to dress in all black and wear a bunny head to hide their face.

On the ransom notes, we put the location as 3806 N. Kenmore Avenue, although we didn’t know anyone that lived there. It’s a weird creepy building we scoped out. In actuality we had no idea where to have the party and knew we’d be emailing a change in location, which we finally decided would be one of the Kid Nappers’ places. His roommate was out of town and not everyone had been there before. The update went a little like this:

WE'VE BEEN RATTED ON. WE HAVE TO CHANGE THE SPOT. MEET ME IN WRIGLEYVILLE. ON SEMINARY UNDER THE TRAIN TRACKS. WE'LL BE DRESSED IN ALL BLACK. IN CASE YOU'RE A STUPID SHIT AND FORGOT, IT'S THIS SATURDAY AT 8 PM SHARP. NO SOONER NO LATER. GOT THAT ASSHOLES? COME ALONE. OR WITH FRIENDS. IF YOU'RE LATE THERE WILL BE A SIGN HANGING UP WITH FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. JUST DON'T BE LATE AND YOU WON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IT. OR YOU CAN CALL 440-***-****. SEE YOU SOON BITCHES.

KID NAPPER

*This letter has been modified to protect the accused and be a little more R and a little less X.

The phone number was actually Steve’s, who we had tried to blame earlier.

The day of the party finally arrived and I was so nervous. At 8pm sharp, no sooner, no later, we showed up under the train tracks. Us Kid Nappers also showed up, plain-clothed, and acting as normal ransomed folk. At 8:15pm sharp, our recruited fake kid nappers (who were friends of mine, but no one had met before) showed up carrying large sticks, dressed in black and wearing masks and wigs. They demeaned us and led us to the spot.

NO COPS photo 2

When we arrived, the truth finally came out, we confessed and the party commenced. It was totally amazing, naturally. I humbly think of it as “the party of the decade.” Then the Rumple Minze came out and all memory of the evening began to fade but seeing my friends reunited with their loved ones and the mess that was left in the morning proved the evening a success.

GOT SHIT TO SAY TO ME? WANT HELP WITH YOUR PARTY? TOO BAD BECAUSE I DON’T CARE. BUT YOU CAN EMAIL ME ASSHOLES.  IHAVEYOURLOVEDONE@GMAIL.COM

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Defining the difference between a Jewish American and an American Jew

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07/28/2010

Exactly a year ago, I couldn’t have been doing anything more opposite than what I’m doing today.

You see, right now I’m sitting in my office in downtown Chicago, finishing up my lunch and typing away at my computer. One year ago, I was sitting by a campfire in a Bedouin tent in southern Israel after just getting back from riding camels and donkeys, surrounded by a group of people I hadn’t known before traveling with them halfway across the globe.

Exactly one year ago, I was nearing the end of my Birthright Israel trip.

Defining the difference photo 1

My birthright group, after making it to the top of a hike

Growing up, I had never really thought I’d end up going on a trip with mostly strangers to a place I had only heard about at Hebrew School and sporadically in the news. It had never really crossed my mind as something that would be important to me. But when my brother went on his Birthright trip the summer after his freshman year in college, he came back a changed person.

If you asked him how his trip went, he would declare it as the best experience, singing praises not just about the places he went to, but also the people he met and his newfound interest in his religion. Before he left, I would never have described my brother as religious. But he came back from his trip with an entirely new perspective on Judaism.

When it came time for me to go, I was steadfast in my denial that the same transformation would happen to me. Even if it happened to my own brother—the last person I would ever think of to undergo such a dramatic change—I was just looking forward to a free trip and meeting new people.

Defining the difference photo 2

After riding camels, exactly one year ago

I can tell you the exact moment that changed.

Well to be fair, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment in time. Everything kind of blurred together after ten days of virtually no sleep and nonstop activity. But I do remember the exact words I heard someone speak to the whole group. Those words hit me with a realization that somewhere along the trip, I had made that same transformation my brother had three years prior.

We had all gathered together for one of our final tie-in sessions (where we would all talk about what we had experienced so far on the trip, our favorite parts, etc.) and someone said, “Being here, in Israel, can really make someone change their priorities from being a Jewish American to an American Jew.”

I had never heard of any phrase like that before. At first I was really confused; I mean aren’t those two classifications the exact same thing? But as this person explained further, they were actually the exact opposite of each other.

To explain: classifying yourself as a Jewish American means you are, at heart, an American citizen, always putting that as your top priority, and you happen to be Jewish too. To call yourself an American Jew shows you put being Jewish as your main priority, it is most important to you. And that, I realized, is what I had become—An American Jew.

I don’t know what did it for me, and when I asked my brother he couldn’t answer either. I think it was the whole experience—the combination of the people I met, the places we went, and the conversations we had. I found myself really invested in my religion all on my own for the first time in my life. No one was forcing me into it, I had no obligations to feel that way; it just came about on its own.

Now, I’m not saying I suddenly became an Orthodox Jew, praying three times a day, etc. But for the first time, I just really cared about being Jewish, and I felt a personal tie to it. I became proud of being a part of this religion.

These feelings didn’t end as soon as I returned home (albeit a week later than I had originally planned. I had met someone on the trip that I became close with, and ended up extending my trip with her to travel all around the country on our own schedule with some much needed sleep added in this time!). When I got back to school in the fall, I continued spending time with the friends I had made on my trip, and subsequently started meeting their friends. Before I knew it, I was going to Jewish events at both Hillel and Chabad on campus, hanging out with more Jewish people than I had ever known before, and even my friends from the previous year could see the change in me.

I had made the switch from being a Jewish American to an American Jew. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!

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Oy’s Pre-Fall Fashion Frenzy

 Permanent link
07/27/2010

fall_fashion_frenzy_golden

Fall fashions

Pre-Fall.  It’s amazing what those two little words can do when hyphenated. 

Those two teeny words have the power to bring me to a terrifying level of excitement, and then crush me, just as quickly. 

Are you asking yourself, “What the hell is the girl talking about?” Do the words “Pre-Fall” not immediately register with you?  If so, I’ll refer to you as the “Shoppingly Challenged.” And for my Shoppingly Challenged, (or SC) readers, I’ll explain what is just so amazing and so devastatingly crushing about Pre-Fall. 

Pre-Fall is the time of the summer when all of the stores and designers release their fall fashions—holy excitement!  Come early July, I can’t wait to see what the stores are showing for fall, and take advantage of the summer sales.  I pre-shop the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale (arguably one of the greatest of the Pre-Fall sales,) look for my High Holiday outfits, and start figuring out how I’m going to save to afford all of the fall staples that I’ve been drooling over.  So this all sounds great, right?  Where does the “devastatingly crushing” part of Pre-Fall kick in? It kicks in NOW, when I think about the “fall” part of Pre-Fall.  Where did summer go? Why am I getting emails from my favorite stores about which sweaters and boots I MUST purchase this fall?!  I even woke up to an email in my mailbox this morning about a certain designer’s FALL-WINTER collection! Fall-Winter!  WHAT! What about tank tops and sandals, and teeny tiny skirts?  Ugh, THIS is the part of Pre-Fall that is awful.  It makes me feel like summer is slipping between my fingers before it even started! And it reminds me of everything that I need to buy this year for fall…. And for fall-winter.

Because I am Oy!’s resident fashionista (who is limited to a non-profit salary), I’ve come up with a list of stylish fall items that are still in my closet from last year, that are just as hot and trendy this year.  Hopefully my list helps to calm my nerves and yours, as the Pre-Fall stress sets in…

Shoes—Like last fall, boots are all the rage! We’re seeing boots of all heights, ranging from high heel clogs, to short booties—aka shoeties (pronounced shoo-tees), to flat riding boots, and OTK (over the knee) boots.  Most likely, the boots you bought last fall will be fine to wear again.  I can’t wait to break out my flat OTK boots and my shorter ankle booties. They were fantastic last year, and I know they’ll get me through another season!

Bottoms—Hurray! Super skinny jeans have not left the scene!  No need to replace your favorite skinnies!  Expect to see new skinnies in all shades of denim, including twill and military green—some even adorned with cargo pockets.  We’ll also get to re-wear our second-skin jeggings, or jean leggings.  Black or dark grey jeggings are a fantastic staple to dress up or dress down.  This fall, hemlines on dresses and skirts are short, like this summer… talk to your employer about that one…

Tops—Designers are showing a lot of feminine details, like ruffles and lace.  While you might not have pieces like this from last fall, a fantastic silk blouse with ruffles or unique details around the neck is a great investment piece! It can work at work, under a suit or cardigan, but can also work out on the weekends under another hot item for fall—the leather jacket! Snug leather jackets have been in for awhile now, and I don’t see them going anywhere—another great investment piece.

Handbags—We’re seeing a lot of top-handle handbags this fall. The cross-body bags from summer and spring are still in, so don’t panic about needing a new purse.  However, if you plan on splurging on a purse, feel confident in your top handle purchase, knowing that it is a classic design that will never go out of style.

Trendy Work—This all depends on the dress code at your office, but it’s easy to work trendy into your work wardrobe. I’m planning on buying several long sweaters, which will look great with skinnies, and are also work appropriate with a turtleneck, black skinny pants, and chunky heels or OTK boots.  On more conservative days, a ruffle-y silk top pairs well with a suit, or a cardigan and high-waisted skirt. 

In closing, savor the summer, and don’t let Pre-Fall stress you out.  Think of all of the exciting new fashions, awesome sales, and my tips for saving a few dollars by wearing pieces from last year.  You’ll look just as fabulous this fall wearing last year’s boots and skinnies with a new top. I promise.  As for the High Holidays, wear something great that will catch the attention of others if you get caught in a not-so-wonderful Rosh Hashanah sermon…

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Gazpacho 101

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07/26/2010

Gazpacho 101 photo

When the heat is on and you cannot bear the thought of turning on the oven, keep cool with refreshing gazpacho. Gazpacho originated in Spain as an afternoon snack. The true Andalusia version has almonds, bread, grapes, olive oil, vinegar and salt. Sometimes, anchovies are even added. It is peasant food that utilizes leftover ingredients. The bread soaks up the water, and then the mixture is pounded with a mortar and pestle. The gazpacho is creamy and refreshing.

The gazpacho that we know and enjoy originated after Columbus brought peppers and tomatoes to Spain. The secret to great gazpacho is not to let any one ingredient be more pronounced than any other. The whole dish should be in harmony— very subtle and delicate in flavor.

Be sure to use your best olive oil for gazpacho. Because the gazpacho is not cooked, the flavor of the oil is very important. I use an unfiltered, organic Spanish extra virgin olive oil. It is delicious and I only use it for salads, cold soups and finishing sauces.

When the weather is hot and you do not feel like cooking, you can still entertain with style. Whirr up several gazpachos, pour some sangria and enjoy.

Recipes adapted from my book JEWISH COOKING FOR ALL SEASONS (John Wiley and Sons).

Tomato Gazpacho

This is a version of the soup that we commonly eat here in America. It is refreshing and delicious.

4 garlic cloves
2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 red bell pepper-seeded and de-veined
1 small English cucumber-peeled and seeded
2-3 pounds very ripe tomatoes
1 cup of soft bread torn into pieces-left over challah trimmed of crust will work nicely
¼ cup rice vinegar
Splash of sherry (optional)
⅓ cup Extra Virgin olive oil-use your best tasting olive oil
2 cups unsalted tomato juice
1 teaspoon pimenton*
Salt and pepper

1. Place all of the ingredients in a food processor or blender and process until very smooth and the mixture is peach colored.
2. Cover the gazpacho and chill it completely before serving. Adjust slat and pepper to taste.
3. Garnish with: herbed croutons, chopped cucumber, fresh parsley, chopped egg, Extra Virgin olive oil, hot chilies, roasted peppers. Use your imagination!

*Pimenton is a Spanish smoked paprika. It is really not comparable to the paprika found in most grocery stores. It has a wonderful sweet smokiness essential to Paellas, chorizo and other Spanish delicacies. Pimenton can be found readily on-line or at specialty markets and at The Spice House on-line.

White Gazpacho (Ajo Blanco)

This is a version of the classic gazpacho from Andalusia. I love this version. It is beautiful in a glass bowl or a wine glass.

4 cloves garlic
1 quart of ice cold water
2 cups soft bread-crusts removed
6 ounces blanched almonds
2 cups of green grapes-peeled
¼ cup rice vinegar
Splash of sherry
⅓ cup Extra Virgin olive oil-use your best tasting olive oil
Salt and pepper

1. Place All of the ingredients in a food processor or blender and the process until very smooth. Add the reserved water to adjust the consistency.
2. Chill the gazpacho until it is very cold. Garnish with toasted almonds, grapes and flat leaf parsley.


Green Gazpacho (from Axarquia in Malaga)

This is a gazpacho that really highlights the vegetation of the mountains in Malaga. This version is a “shepherd’s gathering soup”. I love the herbaceous flavor and bright green color. I feel cool and refreshed just looking at this gorgeous concoction.

2 cloves garlic
1 small bulb of fennel-fronds removed and saved for garnish
2 cups watercress leaves or favorite lettuce
¼ cup flat leaf parsley leaves
¼ cup mint leaves
¼ cup rice vinegar
Splash of sherry (optional)
⅓ cup Extra Virgin olive oil-use your best tasting olive oil
1 quart of ice cold vegetable stock or water
Salt and pepper

1. Place all the ingredients in a food processor or blender. Process until the gazpacho is completely smooth. Adjust consistency if necessary.
Chill the gazpacho completely before serving.
2. Garnish with fresh aioli, chopped mint, diced cucumber, reserved fennel fronds.

Gazpacho

This version is pure American and playful. I love cold food and am always looking for new ways to show off the flavors of food when chilled.

2 cloves garlic
3 pounds yellow tomatoes-or favorite heirloom tomatoes, roasted, peeled and seeded
1 cup yellow watermelon
⅓ cup Extra Virgin olive oil-Use your best tasting olive oil
¼ cup rice vinegar
Splash of sherry
1 quart ice cold water
Salt and pepper

1. Place all the ingredients in a blender or food processor. Process until smooth. Chill thoroughly before serving.
2. Garnish with watermelon cubes, diced tomatoes, aioli, flat leaf parley.

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Cheers! Chicago: A gin competition…and finding the right one, part 2

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07/23/2010

Cheers! Chicago: A gin competition photo 1

Before I get into my real post, I have some exiting news to share with all of you Oy!sters! About a month ago, I was chosen amongst young, Chicago online writers and bloggers to attend the unveiling of a brand new, American-made spirit called, New Amsterdam Gin at the Old Town Social Club.

For those of you unaware of gin, it is created similarly to vodka, but after distillation the white spirit is then infused and steeped with various botanical and citrus ingredients. Not only did we get our hands on the gin before anyone else in Chicago, each one of us writers also had the opportunity participate in a cocktail competition to find out who can make the best tasting cocktail using New Amsterdam Gin! We spent the night enjoying free finger food and complimentary cocktails from Old Town Social while we contemplated our recipes. How much fun is that?!

The competition was fierce, but the fun was never-ending! Check out the video to see how it all went down, and you may even catch a glance of me talking about my dazzling creation, “The Magnificent Mile”.  Now, I ended up in de-facto second place (there was only one grand prize), which is not too shabby. Alex Ott, the head mixologist for New Amsterdam Gin and the head judge for our cocktail competition, even mentioned to me afterwards that my cocktail reminded him of a lollipop he enjoyed when he was a child here in Chicago! Despite my runner-up standing, I had more fun hanging out with a group of Chicago food and drink writers at a great location with some amazing cocktails!

What more could I ask for on a rainy Tuesday evening? The hospitality was great from both Old Town Social and the fabulous people at DeVries Public Relations and New Amsterdam Gin. I highly recommend picking up a bottle of this incredibly smooth, easy to drink gin and add it to your home bar for just $13.99!

Cheers! Chicago: A gin competition photo 2

Now…on to my topic for this blog, dating in the most public and arguably the most awkward of social settings: the bar. As I mentioned in my previous post, I have seen and heard my share of both failures and successes of those braving the elements and finding love in the wilderness of the bar scene.

From behind the counter, it sometimes appears like singles looking to mingle are treasure hunters hacking at the bramble as they meander through the dark  jungle that is dating. Now, just because the jungle can be fierce does not mean that there isn’t any treasure to discover, or exotic places to explore. Sometimes bars can be a great place to hang out and meet attractive and single people, but you have to know where to go and what times to be there.

Certain restaurants and hotels have cozy bars and lounges where young, single people can crash after work or even after dinner for a nightcap. There are bars that will even offer food, so you can eat and scope out the scene or if you're lucky, find yourself engrossed in a conversation with a complete stranger sitting next to you. Even if you are dating someone, you can still go to bars and have a fun time without feeling awkward. At Le Colonial, where I tend bar, we have a “date night” promotion on Wednesdays where you can bring a date and get discounts on bubbly and certain menu items. Since you can eat at the bar, you can pick a stool, pony up and enjoy some fabulous food and sparkly with your significant other. You can even pick a spot on one of the comfy sofas in the lounge and relax to your heart’s content. Who said that bars can’t be romantic?

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was lucky enough to witness a very special proposal at at my restaurant! As I saw the wonton desserts go out, I knew he was preparing to ask and wanted to see it for myself...lo and behold, he dropped to one knee and asked her! All the servers (who are female) were all choked up and as they left, everyone clapped and wished them a hearty congratulations! To think that they were introduced by mutual friends a few years ago at this very bar!

Seeing a couple at my bar enjoying fabulous cocktails and company always puts a smile on my face, and should give hope to those prowling around the dating jungle that, with the right attitude, good timing, and the right setting, anything is possible! So keep your head up, all you single people, and keep the stories coming!

L’Chaim!

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Does this make me look fat?

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Six steps to healthy eating 
07/22/2010

Does this make me look fat? photo

First off stop thinking that! Not many people have the shape they want, and everyone has one body part they wished was smaller. Step one: Do not refer to yourself as fat. And don’t ask anyone, what my sister asked me in 1995: “Am I fat?”

At the time, I replied,” No, maybe a little chunky but not fat.” Do you think she ever forgot that? Sure I could’ve handled it better, but I was 19 and dumb. Lose the entire fat thinking. It’s not about being a size 8 or 6, it’s about being healthy. I’m not suggesting you look in the mirror and say, “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough…” Instead, switch your thinking to, “I’m going to be healthier!” This is the first step to actually being healthy. Once you decide to be one of those “healthy people” it will be easier to say yes to the gym and no to super-sized fries.

Healthy people do eat fries, they just eat a smaller portion. This brings us to step two: portion control is king. I recommend checking out this article from the Mayo Clinic. The website provides pictures and commentary. The biggest take away: eat more vegetables and less of everything else.

Eating healthy is not easy and that’s step three: plan your meals. Since you are now a healthy person, fill your fridge and pantry accordingly. If you know at 3pm you’re starving, have some almonds and celery handy. Take a minute before you grocery shop or visit a restaurant and think about a few things:

• What am I going to cook for dinner the next five nights?
• Do I have almonds, cheese, fruit, lean meat?
• Do I have fresh or frozen veggies at home?
• I’m going to order/cook grilled fish, chicken, tofu...
• I’m going to order/cook steamed veggies.

Making good eating decisions, is easy—following through is hard. That’s why you should reward yourself. Take one day a week and eat that cookie, have the ice cream, order dessert… As much as I love the combo of chocolate and peanut butter, each of my meals doesn’t end with a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.

Step four: be an informed eater, and read the label/nutritional information! A while back I did an article about Cosi, Panera, Corner Bakery and the amazing amounts of fat and salt in their salads and sandwiches. If you don’t read the label, you are eating blindly. I’m not suggesting you google malodextrin, but look at what’s in your food. Some crazy dieters recommend only eating food with five or fewer ingredients, that’s difficult in this 100 calorie pack world we live in. Instead, compare labels and buy brands with lower sodium and fat. And remember, fiber keeps you full.

Sometimes, low salt means low flavor. That brings us to step five: spice it up! If you are cooking, instead of adding salt use other flavors. Garlic powder, onion powder, lemon, and celery seed are all excellent ways of adding a salty flavor without actually adding salt. Using spices also helps keep the fat content down. With the right amount of flavors, you can cut down on the use of oil and butter. You can also substitute apple sauce and pumpkin for butter and oil in recipes. My family says they can taste the difference between apple sauce and butter, but when I use less butter, no one notices (but that’s our little secret).

Now where’s the fitness advice? Well step six: workout hard! If you have 90 minutes a day free to workout, tell me how you do it. Most of us get 30-60 minutes. Make the most out of your workout by adding some high intensity exercise, like sprinting, jumping, or biking really fast. The most common question I get is, “What’s more important, weight training or cardio?” The answer is tricky, but for most people, weight training is more important. And I suggest you combine the two. When you are pumping iron, make every fourth exercise running, biking, jumping  rope… and then go back to the weight training. If this sounds confusing, email me at rkrit@fitwithkrit.com and I can explain in greater detail.

Now get back to work, grab a glass of water, and remember—you are a healthy person!

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Immeasurable

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07/21/2010

Immeasurable photo

Clarity. It all started out with a cooking class. Well, me and our Ethiopian nanny cooking together. So, it was more of a lesson than a class, which I think ends up making more sense.

We hired an Ethiopian nanny because I strongly believe that when you adopt internationally, you bear a responsibility to keep the birth culture alive in the heart of your child. Prior to our daughter's arrival last October, I picked up a small, unintimidating book entitled something to the effect of, "Amharic made easy." First of all, I would like to say there is no such thing. The alphabet is different and the sounds are completely unfamiliar, which makes them extremely difficult to pronounce without guidance. I was deflated. I had imagined meeting my daughter, scooping her up in my arms and exclaiming in a paragraph (at least) of fluent Amharic about our love for her, her beautiful eyes, the weather, etc. This was clearly not going to happen. Not even close.

Once I realized, despite my great intentions, that I was not going to be able to teach my Ethiopian daughter Amharic, I knew I needed help. I reached out to a woman I had met through the Ethiopian Cultural Society. I told her I was looking for someone to teach my daughter Amharic and someone to teach me how to cook traditional Ethiopian food. She recommended someone. That someone, Mendena, came over to meet us and she, along with her sister, Sinta, have become an extended part of our family.

So, now back to the cooking lesson. Here I stood, pen and paper in hand, ready to take copious notes. All the requested ingredients sat sprawled on the kitchen counter. There were empty pots sitting wide open on the stove, awaiting Ethiopian deliciousness to be cooked inside them. "So...," I began as I observed potatoes being hand peeled. "How many potatoes do you cut?" I asked. Sinta replied with a shrug, "Oh, maybe three, four or five." My eye twitched a little. My writing hand stood still. "So, four?" I asked again. (Four was in the middle of those two numbers, so that made sense to me.)

"OK," Sinta replied. OK? Hmmmm. Sinta turned the fire on under the pot. Thirty or so seconds went by. Me: "Um, there's nothing in there." Sinta: "We warm the pot before we add the oil." I smiled. I wrote down, Warm pot for 30 or so seconds prior to oil.  Now we were getting somewhere. Sinta added oil. Me: "How much oil do you put in?" Sinta: "Some." Some? Some?! Excuse me, but what the hell? I'm taking notes! A tablespoon? Two? Some? Some does not translate in the world of cooking and recipe writing. I’m not happy.

Fast forward. There were onions, garlic, and salt. There were diced tomatoes, cabbage, lentils, green beans and carrots. There were ancient Chinese secret Ethiopian spices. In time, three pots bore amazing smelling food. I looked down at my pad of paper. No measurements. Instead I had written stuff like some, add when necessary, a little bit, or a little while.

I thought over what had happened. The whole process of cooking this meal had taken about an hour and a half. The meal could have been cooked in half that time. An American version of the same dishes would have included measurements, how thick or thin vegetables would be cut, cooking times and heating temperatures. But what I came to understand was that here in my small kitchen, I had learned a big lesson about myself and how my culture was so very different from my daughter's.

Sinta was passing on to me the experience she had in her kitchen growing up in Ethiopia. She stood watching her mom cook. Just time and repetition as her guide observing her mom cook over and over again until she got it. I asked Sinta and she said there were no written family recipes. I told her I was shocked…and delighted. This was a very new way of being in my kitchen for me. I felt like I was being given an incredible gift that I now would have the opportunity to share with my daughter.

I don't know if everyone in Ethiopia cooks this way. My sense is, that yes, it's just the way of living there. They have a consciousness geared towards family and tradition with no sense of urgency. That’s their daily life.

Now this may be a shock, but as incredible as an experience as it was, this cooking lesson did not make me Ethiopian. But it did give me an opening to start thinking about my own rushed and impatient American ways. My need for definitiveness and tangible results rarely allows me to stop and live in the moment. I am always four steps ahead. I am rushing here to get to there, and then, I'm rushing back. I have taken the time since this cooking experience to cook this food with friends. And while I am cooking, I am telling them what I learned in the process of it all. And I am present with the food and its preparation. I enjoy the experience of cooking each individual ingredient with no sense of urgency to jump to the next step.

Right now, my daughter just drags her doll around the kitchen while I cook. Sometimes she sits on my foot. I look forward to the day when she stands next to me, learning from me something she would have learned in her birth country. But for now, I savor the moment and am content with the Ethiopian spirit of simply being present. Because "present" is just another word for "gift."

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The Top 18 Jewish Movie Soundtracks

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07/20/2010

Fade to black hats photo 2

There are lists of Jewish movies, and lists of Jewish music. But I haven’t seen any lists of Jewish movie music— music in the soundtracks of Jewish-themed movies— so I made my own. Rather than limit myself to a “Top 10,” I decided to go with another Jewish number: 18.

I soon became aware that there are really two kinds of soundtracks. One of original music or songs, and one of compiled songs. So I’ll get to the second kind in another post.

For now, these are the best original soundtracks for movies with Jewish themes, listed chronologically (please feel free to disagree vehemently— what did I miss, what should I have skipped?):

1. The Jazz Singer (1927)
This was the first “talkie,” and it was about the Jewish struggle with assimilation. It starred one of the greatest performers of all time, Al Jolson. He famously adlibbed, “You ain’t heard nothin’ yet!” and then proceeded to sing the Kaddish and Kol Nidre alongside classics like “Blue Skies” and “Give My Regards to Broadway.”

2. The Ten Commandments (1956)
Today, “epic” movies are all sci-fi and fantasy. But once, they were literally Biblical in scope. The legendary Elmer Bernstein turns in a sea-splittingly rousing score.

3. Ben-Hur (1959)
Speaking of epic, and of Charlton Heston… Yes, this is subtitled “A Tale of the Christ,” but every character here who isn’t Roman is Judean. Miklos Rozsa won his third Oscar for this score. As Ben-Hur involved Jewish, Middle Eastern, and Roman themes, who better than the man who scored Jack Benny’s Hitler parody To Be or Not to Be, The Thief of Bagdad, and QuoVadis?

4. Exodus (1960)
Composer Ernest Gold won the Oscar for the theme for this one in 1960. It’s one of the themes that pop up in every list of “greatest movie themes of all time,” so why should this list be an exception? This is not about the original Exodus (see entry #2) but about a boat with that name trying to get into the nascent state of Israel with the help of Paul Newman.

5. Funny Girl (1968)
It’s Barbra Streisand singing about being another Jewish acting/singing star, Fanny Brice. It’s another assimilation story. It’s about people… people who need people. Babs won the Tony for the stage version and the Oscar for the film. Glee has already used two of its songs.

6. Oliver! (1968)
Dickens’ classic does not paint the most… affectionate portrait of our man Fagin. But one of the film’s six Oscars was for the music. And the soundtrack includes that anthem of Jewish holidays, “Food, Glorious Food.”

7. Fiddler on the Roof (1971)
While many roles are identified with just one actor, Tevye was meaty enough to have Topol (who did the movie version), Theodore Bikel, Herschel Bernardi, and Zero Mostel all gain fame in the part. More recent assayers have included everyone from Harvey Fierstein to Alfred Molina. (But not Mandy Patinkin. Something is wrong about that.) Oh, and it’s the only klezmer musical, certainly the only one to get the Oscar for Best Original Score.

8. Blazing Saddles (1974)
Not too many songs, but memorable ones at that. There’s the theme— “He rode a blazing saddle…” There’s “I’m Tired,” which helped Madeline Kahn get an Oscar nomination for channeling Marlene Dietrich. And there’s the closing number “The French Mistake,” probably the only movie song with the Yiddish-ish word “tush” in it. Mel Brooks’ musical of his Producers would later win more Tonys than any other musical ever, and this is how he practiced. (Wait… is this a Jewish movie? Well, both these people and this person say so.)

9. Cabaret (1972)
Songs by the Jewish team of Kander and Ebb, who also gave us Chicago. The two main singers— Liza Minnelli and Joel Grey (previously Katz)— won Oscars, as did the sophisticated music.

10. The Jazz Singer (1980)
Well, no, Neil Diamond can’t act… and Laurence Olivier, who can, famously lamented his involvement. But the songs were big hits, with three— “Love on the Rocks,” “Hello Again,” and the immigration anthem “America”— cracking the Top 10. As a bonus, there are versions of Adon Olam and Kol Nidre rendered in Diamond’s lush baritone. The soundtrack itself was nominated for a Grammy. It sold more than five million copies. Your parents have the LP in their basement.

11. Chariots of Fire (1981)
One of the most famous instrumental themes, period. Not just because its composer, Vangelis, was mostly a new-agey one, and not just because it innovatively used contemporary electronic instruments in a period piece. But because… well, now every time you see fast-action rendered in slow-mo, your brain goes: Da da-da-da daa-daa (chchchch), Da da-da-da daaaaa (chchchch). This artsy sports flick won the Oscar for Best Original Score.

12. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
John Williams + Steven Spielberg= one of the longest-running, best-loved partnerships in movie history. And the rousing fanfare style of the Raiders theme is not at all repetitive of Williams’ own Superman score of three years prior, so why bring it up?

13. Yentl (1983)
Barbra again. Best Original Score. Yes, Papa can hear you.

14. Once Upon a Time in America (1984)
Ennio Morricone + Sergio Leone  = great matchup of composer and director long before the Spielberg/Williams movies. Mostly, they did Westerns, but gangster movies are somewhat city-based cowboy flicks, no? Considered one of maestro Morricone’s best scores, this was eliminated from Oscar competition on a technical point. If you liked Bugsy, or even if you didn’t, you’ll like this film, the closest Jewish movies get to The Godfather.

15. Schindler’s List (1993)
John Williams + Steven Spielberg again, only this time Williams is going somewhat klezmer (Best Original Score). Itzhak Perlman, who helped (re)popularize klezmer, performs the haunting theme, and it’s become a required piece for him to perform— mandatory at Jewish fundraisers. In the recent Vancouver Olympics, the Israeli figure skaters did a routine to it. It’s almost liturgy at this point. There’s also a Yiddish children’s song here, and the clarinet parts we done by old-school klez virtuoso Giora Feidman. Did you know that Billie Holiday’s on the soundtrack, too?

16. The Prince of Egypt (1998)
Late Israeli singer Ofra Haza performs the song “Deliver Us.” Also, Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey duet on the soundtrack… as do Steve Martin and Martin Short, together again for the first time. But it’s the Whitney/Mariah “When You Believe” that won the Oscar for Best Original Song— go figure. Stephen Schwartz (Disney’s Pocahontas, Hunchback, and Enchanted, but also Godspell, Pippin, and Wicked) wrote the lyrics.

17. Eight Crazy Nights (2002)
Yes, Adam Sandler has more songs in him than “The Chanukah Song.” And they are all about… Chanukah. Well, this movie is all about Chanukah, and the songs are all in the movie. The songs themselves are about stuff in the movie. If you have all three versions of “The Chanukah Song” on your iPhone, this is the next thing you need to get.

18. Defiance (2008)
This film the one about brothers who were not “basterds” but were in fact pretty freakin’ “glourious.” James Newton Howard took a break from scoring M. Night Shayamalan movies to compose this moody, almost Goth, soundtrack. The violin solos are by Joshua Bell. It was nominated for Best Original Score (beaten for the Oscar by Slumdog Millionaire, the movie best known for making me lose my Oscar pool that year because I thought Benjamin Button was going to sweep).

See you soon with the 18 best compilation soundtracks to Jewish movies.

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Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat

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07/19/2010

I was lucky enough to be one of the group leaders on a recent Shorashim Birthright Israel trip.  We had an amazing 10 days in Israel with all the necessary highlights—the climb up Masada, the dunk in the Dead Sea, the beach in Tel Aviv, the Wall in Jerusalem and more.  But what surprised me most wasn’t a tourist attraction at all.

Because this was a Chicago trip, we visited Kiryat Gat-Lachish-Shafir, JUF’s Partnership 2000 region.  JUF provides money, resources, and volunteers to help this community that sits off highway six, toward the middle of the country.

The region’s biggest claim to fame is that it is home to the largest Intel Factory in the world.  However, we were not there to look at computer chips.  There is an absorption center in Kiryat Gat— a place where new immigrants to Israel stay when they first arrive.  The center provides a support network teaching the language, culture, and life of Israel to the new olim.  We really found a melting pot of people living there from Yemenites, to Russians, to Ethiopians, all sharing the same falafel stand.

We were there to help.  There is a children’s center— think Israel’s version of a YMCA.  It’s a place where kids can go after school to play, relax, and be safe.  It keeps them off the street, away from drugs, and generally out of trouble.  It turned out to be one of the best two hours we spent in Israel.

Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat photo 5

Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat photo 1

The kids, who ranged in age from three to about 13, didn’t speak much English, but it didn’t matter.  You don’t need English to understand coloring, videogames, or breakdancing.  “When does the breakdancing start?” I asked.  “As soon as you clear this room, you guys interrupted it when you came in here,” I was told.  The crowd dispersed, the music started and an 11-year-old boy started spinning on his head.

Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat photo 2

Meanwhile, intense games of basketball started up on the basketball court and soccer in another part of the yard.  In another building there were board games, videogames and all kinds of arts and crafts.  Running around the entire property came two kids on the back of one our group members and three of the biggest smiles you ever saw.

Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat photo 3

Before we got to the center, one participant pulled me aside to tell me he didn’t really like kids and was disappointed we had moved around a hike that was originally scheduled for that time.  He also happened to be the first to grab a drum and bang along with the other kids while the music was playing.  “I thought you didn’t like kids?”  I asked him when we returned to the bus.  “I guess I didn’t know that I did,” he said.  He pledged to donate some of his old instruments to Kiryat Gat and deliver them personally.  He decided right then and there that he would return to Israel and spend part of his time volunteering for this wonderful community.

Breakdancing in Kiryat Gat photo 4

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It's a bOy!Chicago

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07/16/2010

It's a bOy!Chicago photo

Everyone here at Oy!Chicago would like to say mazel tov to Paul Wieder and his wife, Elisheva who are now proud parents of a healthy baby boy! He was born on July 15. Congratulations Paul and Elisheva!

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The perfect summer soundtrack

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07/15/2010

It’s summertime in Chicago: the perfect time for grillin’, chillin’, and One Tree Hillin’. Okay, so I’ve never actually seen One Tree Hill, but it sounded good. Summertime is also the perfect time for great music; and anyone who’s ever seen an outdoor concert knows that certain music just sounds better this time of year. Further, entire albums can have a distinct “summertime” feel. Granted, certain albums, notably anything released by Jimmy Buffet, force the good summer vibes so hard-core that it makes you long for Chicago in February. (I like cheesy tunes as much as anyone, but “Cheeseburger In Paradise” is the musical equivalent of a hangover. It lasts way too long, there’s usually vomiting involved, and you wonder why life can be so cruel at times.) All you Buffet fans who say, “dude, you’ve got to see him live to get it” can relax: I have. The show was okay but the Buffet crowd is weird. I recall seeing a teenager dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, shot-gunning his dad’s Miller Light, singing along to every word of “Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw.” It’s always a classy scene in Tinley Park.

Every summer, there seem to be a few albums I go back to year after year to serve as my soundtrack to the season. In fairness, all of them are great all year round: only a few have any direct tie to the season. (In some of these cases, I might have gotten into this music in the summertime, and therefore they maintain a direct connection to summer.) Regardless, in the grand tradition of lazy-yet-still-hopefully-entertaining journalism, I now present a list of my favorite summertime albums/CD’s/mp3s/8-tracks to you, gentle Oy! reader.

A few thoughts before I begin.

1) Greatest Hits albums were not allowed while compiling this list. They’re too easy and I feel like including them would be cheating. And I walk around feeling guilty enough as it is.

2) I’ve picked one album from each of the last five decades, to help vary the list; and also because my tastes tend to lie more in the classic rock realm. Truth be told, it still tilts that way. Accordingly, if at any point this month you’ve uttered the phrase, “That song is totally my jam” when Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” comes on the radio, you might not agree with this list. Yeah, I like that song too, but what exactly does “that song’s my jam” even mean? What makes a song your jam? Sounds pretty selfish to me.

3) You may quibble with my argument that certain albums or songs sound more like “summer” than others. Sure, it may appear to be an inherently subjective claim, but please keep in mind that everything I write transcends mere opinion and is actually 100% correct and factual.

With that said, I now present for you the first (and I’m guessing last…)

TJ’S TOP 5 SUMMERTIME ALBUMS:

2000s: Wilco—Sky Blue Sky (2007)
Perhaps not the most daring or complex album by this astonishingly underrated band—certainly, a case can be made for “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” as their “best”— but I don’t think I’ve ever heard an album which better captures the mellow, sunny, laid-back feel of a beautiful summer afternoon in each and every track. As both a songwriter and singer, Jeff Tweedy seems clearly inspired by a beautiful day on every song, and the result is an album that accomplishes the rare feat of being relaxed and “easy” without ever becoming dull. I can’t help but believe that if this album had been released in the 1970’s, it would be one of the best-known albums in rock. But in an era when the pop music chart is dominated by all kinds of auto-tuned awful, this album remains little known outside of the realm of Wilco fans. One listen and you’ll know why that’s the kind of travesty we haven’t seen since the term “hanging chads” was politically pertinent. 
Key Songs: Impossible Germany, Sky Blue Sky, Either Way

1990s: Ben Folds Five—Whatever And Ever Amen (1997)
If there were any justice in the world, the masses would know Ben Folds best songs the way they know the best songs from Elton John and Billy Joel, the two piano rockers to whom Ben is most often compared. As a piano player myself, I have gravitated to Ben Folds ever since I first heard this album in the summer of 1997. Perhaps that’s why it has such a strong summer connotation to me in the (hard-to-believe) 13 years since its release. (My God: thousands of teenagers have been bar/bat mitzvahed since this album was released! How is this possible? Has “Seinfeld” really been off the air that long? Has it been that long since the Bulls were good? Am I really at a point in my life where a call to the “Hair Club For Men” is a viable option?) The upbeat songs really kick, and the ballads are among Ben Folds’ best. He’s made other great records, but no other Ben Folds release feels more perfect for a hot, sunny day than this. (Plus, this record scores major Oy! points for utilizing a klezmer band on the song, “Steven’s Last Night In Town”. L’Chaim.)
Key Songs: Kate, Battle Of Who Could Care Less, Selfless, Cold, & Composed

1980s: TIE: U2—The Joshua Tree (1987), Huey Lewis & The News—Sports (1983)
The 80’s were a strange time for music. It was an era driven by record company executives whose formula to making a hit record was roughly spend lots of money, supplant actual drummers with drum machines, and make sure everyone involved (including the drum machines) had lots of cocaine. There are exceptions, however, including these two albums that were among the most popular of the decade. U2’s “Joshua Tree” is probably their most famous album, and the one that took them from being a great college-radio band to one of the most popular bands of all time. Twenty-three years later, it still holds up as Bono & the Edge’s masterpiece, so it’s no coincidence that the songs have remained among the band’s most enduring. This album makes perfect sense when played around sunset; indeed, when the crickets creep in on the album’s penultimate song, it’s as if all of the colors of summer have emerged from your speakers. Who cares if you’ve heard these songs hundreds of times? You’ve watched the sun set many times too, and that never gets old. Same goes for this album. 
Key Songs: “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, “With or Without You”, “Running To Stand Still”

I won’t waste your time proclaiming the greatness of Huey’s “Sports” album, lest I sound like the guy in “American Psycho.” (Though, in fairness, I am holding an axe as I type this. Please don’t ask me if I have a rain coat.) I will tell you that it’s the right of any man in their mid-30s to love and appreciate this album and its greatness without having to explain oneself. Granted, the fact that a buddy and I saw Huey perform at Ravinia in the summer of 1996 and had such a good time that we got lost in the Ravinia parking lot for what felt like days, may have something to do with my perhaps overwrought Huey-respect. (That friend, who grew up a few blocks from Ravinia in Highland Park, will be reminded of this for the rest of our lives.) Point is, the album is great, and anyone who tells you it isn’t probably listens to an inordinate amount of Flo Rida. For those of us born around the mid-1970s, it’s a summertime party album. Sad, but true.
Key Songs: “If This Is It”, “Walking On A Thin Line” “Heart Of Rock & Roll”

1970s:  Stevie Wonder—Innervisions (1973)
After The Beatles and Bob Dylan, a great case can be made for Stevie Wonder as being one of the most important artists of all time; an obvious first ballot Hall of Famer. His streak of 1970s classic albums alone puts him on the very short list of all-time greats, but then when you consider the early part of his career, you realize that seemingly everything he ever recorded is a standard.  That’s not easy to do. “Innervisions” is perhaps Stevie’s most political album, one that takes on the urban decay of America, anger about Vietnam, and in one of the best songs on the album, Richard Nixon.

As a musical extension of its politically charged nature, the album deftly portrays a sweltering, humid, summer day in urban America; and it’s not always pretty. One of his mist enduring songs, “Living For The City”, includes a short sketch depicting a wide-eyed country type going to live his dreams in New York City. As he gets off a Greyhound bus, and is immediately (and unknowingly) caught up in the chaos and trouble of street life, the song just sounds boiling hot. That’s not an easy feat to accomplish in a strictly aural medium where the time of year is never explicitly mentioned. But that’s a testament to the brilliance of Stevie, and that’s how magnificent this particular release is. If this isn’t in your collection, it should be downloaded immediately. Put it on during a long, hot day and you’ll know what I mean.
Key Songs: “Golden Lady”, “Living For The City”, “Higher Ground”, “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout A Thing”

1960s: The Beach Boys—Pet Sounds (1966)
The Beach Boys, thanks to co-founder Mike Love’s heavy hand (and the absence of the brilliant Brian Wilson), have been reduced to little more than a state fair “oldies” act in the last 20 years; slogging out the same hits year after year to adoring fans who probably should lay off the Big Macs and/or see a dentist.  Don’t confuse that image of the Beach Boys with this, their finest and most accomplished album. It’s telling that after hearing this album in 1966, Paul McCartney felt challenged and inspired enough to come up with an obscure release called “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” (Indeed, McCartney has often remarked that his favorite song of all time is this record’s gorgeous Brian Wilson composition, “God Only Knows.”) For those of you who are rolling your eyes at the prospect of hearing the “Oldies 104.3” friendly-yet-way-overplayed Beach Boys standards, (“Surfin’ USA”, “Help Me Rhonda”, etc…) know that this might be their least hit-filled record. It’s one where the sum of its parts is far greater than its individual songs. (In fact, it wasn’t until many years after its release that it became widely regarded as a “classic,” because at the time of its release it wasn’t deemed as accessible as other Beach Boys releases) The themes of love and heartbreak show that Brian Wilson—who in complete control of this album—had grown up and was beginning to push the musical boundaries which would ultimately drive him INSANE. (That the album was not a huge smash would send Wilson into a depression from which he’d never fully recover.) But it’s the document of a musical genius at work at the top of his game; and its influence is still unquestionably reaching modern bands. (It’s tough to imagine the Fleet Foxes without this record.) Best of all, those delicate harmonies and melodies that were hallmarks of the Beach Boys summer sound are here in large doses, making this a definitive summer listen, and awfully close to musical perfection.
Key Songs: “God Only Knows”, “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”, “Caroline, No”

RUNNERS UP: 
Every single Beatles album (though “The White Album” with its themes rooted in nature, is particularly summery), Bob Marley—“Kaya,” Beastie Boys—“Ill Communication,” Marvin Gaye—“What’s Going On,” Steely Dan—“Katy Lied,” Guster—“Keep It Together,” Led Zeppelin—“IV,” Neil Young—“Harvest,” The Police—“Synchronicity,” Rolling Stones—“Tattoo You,” Van Morrison—“Astral Weeks.”

T.J. Shanoff is a writer, director, and musical director at The Second City. T.J.’s Second City show, “Rod Blagojevich Superstar” will be revived in a limited engagement this August at the  Metropolis Theater  in Arlington Heights.

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The things we take for granted

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07/14/2010

ARK logo

This morning, I woke up, and my eyes literally did not want to open.  Not out of exhaustion, but because they were so uncomfortably dry.  I attribute it to a combination of excessive A/C to combat this overbearing heat and my LASIK surgery 18 months ago that occasionally leaves me wondering if my eyes have been relocated to the Sahara desert while I’m still in Chicago.

I knew the solution before I even realized the problem.  I stopped at CVS on my way to work and picked up a bottle of eye drops.  I wasn’t paying a lot of attention as I grabbed them, and suffered a mini-bout of sticker shock at the register.  Sixteen dollars.  Ugh.  So I pulled out my debit card and begrudgingly handed it to the cashier while silently cursing at my eyes for being so difficult.

It really sucks that my $16 went to CVS and the jerks that make Systane eye drops, but let’s be honest, my bank account will survive.  When I go to the grocery store on Sunday to pick up food for the week, my card will not be declined.  I will have totally forgotten about this morning’s liquid gold eye drops ($16 for a .667 ounce bottle—imagine if you converted that cost to gallons like gasoline!?).  And in a few months, if my eyes act up and decide to hate me once again, I’ll probably rummage through my purse, wondering where I left those silly drops, and when they don’t appear, I’ll run into CVS again to grab another (expensive) bottle.

I’m lucky.  I know it.  While I certainly didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth, I have never had to worry about where my next meal would come from or whether I could afford my prescription or grocery bill.  Nearly everyone feels broke in college, but my perceived poverty mostly affected my drinking habits (pre-game before the bars) and dietary choices (Out for dinner?  No way!—more like mac and cheese, my college staple).

And even now, with my husband in school full-time—yes, that means no income for two years—we have planned well and have enough cash stashed away so we aren’t frantic when the rent is due.  Sure, we’re not going out to eat as much as we used to and I’m trying to scale back on the shopping, but we’re fine.

Not everyone is that lucky.  And that has never been more apparent to me than in the past three months, since I began my new job at The ARK.  The ARK’s primary mission is to create a safety net for Chicagoland Jews in need by providing vital human services within a framework of Jewish values and laws.  The mission statement is vague, but I can paint a picture of what that looks like.

As I drove past The ARK at 8:45 a.m. to detour to CVS, there was a line six people deep outside the building (we open at 9), waiting to take a number to see the dentist.  Most of them haven’t had the money to see a dentist in years and they aren’t just popping in for the regular old tooth cleaning and cavity check—they are treating infections, receiving free dentures, and having complex procedures.  And they are finally getting in after waiting nearly two months on the waiting list.  (Know any Jewish dentists?  We have about a dozen who volunteer their time in our dental clinic and it’s still not enough to meet the needs of Chicago’s uninsured Jews in need.  Same goes for doctors in the medical clinic!)

As I am typing this article at my desk, there are four volunteers in the food pantry helping clients of The ARK assemble their monthly food packages.  Most of the recipients of food from The ARK are already enrolled in Illinois’ Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) that helps low-income residents buy the food they need for good health.  This governmental aid helps recipients get through about three weeks worth of groceries each month and covers only items that go in your mouth (think about things like toilet paper, shampoo, or diapers for your baby).  The ARK steps in to cover that gap and help our clients stay afloat by providing toiletries, paper goods and nutritious kosher food.  We’re Jews—we feed each other, it’s what we do.

Outside the entrance of the food pantry is a table where we place dozens of boxes of matzah each morning.  Local grocery stores donate it here by the boat-load once Passover ends (because who would really want to eat it when it wasn’t a mandatory holiday requirement?  I’m fairly certain that if I had to make a list of my top three least favorite foods, matzah would be number one).  The Passover Hagaddah describes matzah as lechem onim—the bread of the poor—and it was not until I witnessed the sheer amount of needy Chicagoans who take it home in July to feed their families that I understood why the moniker lechem onim really fits the bill.

Before I worked at The ARK, I imagined The ARK’s clients as elderly Jews and recent immigrants, but what is most baffling is that many of the people who frequent the pantry and the medical clinic look just like you or me—they are recently laid off professionals, elderly Jews who have outlived their retirement savings, mothers with young children, middle-aged suburbanites, and Jews from the former Soviet Union.  They are people from the suburbs and city and from all walks of Jewish life.  Most of them never would have thought that they would ever become a client of The ARK.

And I imagine that many of them never thought they would blink an eye at a $16 price tag on a bottle of eye drops.  Certainly puts life into perspective.

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My Shabbat dinner dream team

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07/13/2010

My Shabbat dinner dream team photo

Pictured in a photo circa 1978 is Cindy’s Grandma Tessie and Grandpa Harry—a dinner guest at her fictitious Shabbat dinner—her sister, Melissa, and the author, a baby at the time.

A hypothetical question
Here’s a question to pose to people around your Shabbat dinner table this Friday night: If you could invite anyone for Shabbat dinner, living or dead, who would it be? Like me, I hope you get to share Shabbat every week with loved ones—family and friends—but what if you had just one night to spend time with people you normally couldn’t?

I ponder this question from time to time and have come up with my fictitious Shabbat dinner guest list. These individuals would bring warmth, laughs, and engaging conversation to the table.

Harry Luck
Topping my guest list would be my Grandpa Harry Luck. While I was fortunate to grow up around three of my grandparents, my maternal grandfather died at age 75, exactly two weeks before my second birthday.

Though I don’t remember him, my family would share stories of Harry with me throughout my life. He had wit, intellect, and was a mensch. The second youngest of 10 children, Harry was born in a shtetl near Minsk, Belarus, in 1904. At age 20, he immigrated with his family to America. En route, they lived in London for a year, where Harry picked strawberries by day to make a living. An Englishman who wanted to learn Russian befriended Harry. A member of the Fabian Society, an intellectual Socialist movement, the Englishman took my grandpa to meetings, where George Bernard Shaw and George Orwell also attended.

Then, Harry moved to Wisconsin, where he eventually fulfilled a lifelong dream of buying a farm, becoming one of the very first Jewish farmers in Wisconsin. Soon, he met my grandmother; the young couple bought a dairy farm in Mapleton, where they also raised cattle, corn, two sons, and a daughter.

Yeshiva scholars would stay with my family to learn about farming before moving to kibbutzim (collective farms) in Israel. My grandparents were true Zionists. Long before the creation of the Jewish state, they invested a portion of their small savings in Israel even though it was a gamble on an uncertain future. Harry would say, ‘If this is worth nothing, then our lives are worth nothing.’

Irene Opdyke
Recognized as a “Righteous Gentile” for saving Jews during the Holocaust, Irene Opdyke was one of the first people to teach me about the meaning of heroism. When I was in junior high, my family hosted Irene, a Polish Catholic woman, at our home while she was in town for a speaking engagement.

During World War II, Irene worked for an SS officer on a villa as a housekeeper. Surreptitiously, she saved 12 Jews from capture, smuggling them into the basement of the villa without the officer’s knowledge. Eventually, the officer discovered her friends; he threatened to turn them in unless she would become his mistress.

In all, she hid the Jews for nine months, and one even gave birth while in hiding. After the war, Irene immigrated to America, where she lived until her death seven years ago at the age of 86.

Oseola McCarty
About a decade ago, I read an obituary of Oseola McCarty, an African-American washerwoman from Hattiesburg, Mississippi. Ever since she was a little girl, Oseola made her living washing and ironing clothes. She lived frugally, saving every penny she could. She didn’t own a car, opting to walk everywhere. She never married and outlived her relatives, putting away the money that was bequeathed to her.

At age 87, Oseola established a trust through which, at her death, a portion of her life savings would be left to the University of Southern Mississippi to provide scholarships for deserving African-American students in need. In the end, Oseola left approximately $150,000 to the students.

Darcy Pohland
When I was in college, local CBS news reporter Darcy Pohland welcomed me into the newsroom as an intern at the Minneapolis affiliate TV station.

Pohland, who passed away last winter at the age of 48, was bubbly, talented, and always smiling, despite an accident that almost took her life as a young woman. When she was in college, she dove into the shallow end of a swimming pool and broke her neck, causing permanent paralysis from the chest down.

And yet, she was one of the most capable people I have ever met. At CBS, I shadowed Pohland on news stories, some serious and others fun. She would drive us around town in a van designed to accommodate her paraplegia. Once, we covered a story about a Minneapolis boutique that sold funky clothes made of Astroturf and bubble wrap. Pohland coaxed me into modeling the clothes in an on-camera fashion show as part of the story. I had a ball during my fleeting time on the catwalk, twirling around for the camera, while Pohland cheered me on.
 
Adam Sandler
I realize one of these things is not like the other and that the final guest at my Shabbat table—alive and well in Hollywood—is a bit of a departure. But Adam Sandler, the Jewish movie mogul, comedian, husband, and father of two, could add a lot of levity to our dinner conversation.

From his early days portraying Theo’s friend “Smitty” on “The Cosby Show,” to helping Jewish boys and girls feel a little less alienated at Christmastime with his smash hit “The Chanukah Song” to playing a heartbroken 1980s wedding singer, Adam’s always been my biggest Hollywood crush.

In addition to his comedy career, he’s also a philanthropist. A few years ago, he donated $1 million to the Boys and Girls Club in his hometown of Manchester, New Hampshire.

I think my grandpa and Adam would really hit it off.

Let’s eat
The guest list is complete. Now, who could do the cooking? I bet Julia Child would make a mean brisket…

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Celebrity BFF

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07/12/2010

I always wonder what it would be like to be best friends with a celebrity. Like Julia Roberts. She’s always talking about her BFF Paige, who seems to be a regular Jane like you or me. Can you imagine if your best friend was Julia Roberts?!?! I can’t. Would it be awesome—all the perks of the glamorous life without the stalking of the paparazzi? Or would it be fraught with the jealousy that often creeps into women’s friendships, but times a thousand because your friend is, um, Julia Roberts.

There are, of course, plenty of well-known celebrity friends. Penelope and Salma. Jennifer and Courtney. Cameron and Drew. But when you’ve got two ladies who are used to the spotlight it’s a whole different thing.

I have a close friend who is close friends with someone who is close friends with an A-list celebrity. (Got that? A friend of a friend of a friend—so, three degrees removed from me—is all kinds of a famous.) The friend of a friend (stay with me here Jewish geographers, the girl who’s friends with both my pal and the celeb) is getting married this summer. Which means the starlet will be in attendance, perhaps even with her equally famous partner. Every time I think about this wedding, I have a variety of thoughts at once:

1) So cool. I want to go to a wedding with famous people! Remember when Oprah and Gayle (speaking of famous BFFs) went wedding crashing?

2) Not sure if I’d want to share my big-day spotlight with a star who might inadvertently become the center of attention. A good friend—no matter how famous—wouldn’t purposely steal a bride’s thunder, but if, say, Madonna is at your wedding… I mean, come on. Who’d you be looking at? (Side note: When I was in seventh grade Howard Stern came to my friend’s Bat Mitzvah. He most certainly stole the attention of a bunch of 13-year-olds, and we weren’t even allowed to listen to his show.)

3) Maybe if she were my friend, I wouldn’t worry about her stealing my thunder. I’d just want her there, because we want to share those occasions with the people close to us.

4) How do you even get an address to send a celebrity an invitation? I realize this is a stupid thought. Famous people are people. They have homes, phone numbers. But still, if I’m sharing my various thoughts I might as well be honest.

There are certain understandings in BFFship. That you confide in each other. That you’ll reciprocate friendship overtures—whether it be offering a place to crash or extending an invitation to dinner. There is, I think, a certain expectation of regular or semi-regular communication. Would any of this change if your BFF is Angelina Jolie? Or Kate Hudson? (Or how about Jenna Fischer? Because I’d love to be best friends with her.)

Does anyone out there have a celebrity friend? If so, weigh in! Is it just the same as regular friendship, just with a few more cameras when you go out to eat? If you don’t have an A-list BFF, would you want one? Who? Think it would be fun or a hassle? Or is friendship the same no matter your level of notoriety? (Which brings up the whole other question of what if your celeb BFF got caught in a train wreck scandal a la Lindsay?? Drama drama drama.)

Read more about new Oy! blogger Rachel’s quest to meet her new BFF.

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A touching Israel experience

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07/09/2010

july_9_students

Three Israeli teenagers joined the 23-member Chicago Write On group for three days during the trip.

Even almost two weeks later, I'm in information overload mode.

You see, I just returned from accompanying the sixth Write On For Israel cohort on their summer learning experience—in Israel. The two-week trip was a mix of touring and learning, and I'm still reeling from all the excitement.

In case you missed my last post about the program, Write On is a two-year educational program that prepares high school juniors and seniors for the tough job of fighting Israel's public relations war on college campuses. The trip to Israel in the summer between 11th and 12th grades is a centerpiece of the program.

Beyond meetings with journalists, scholars and policy experts—and a brief interview with Knesset Member Einat Wilf—the trip featured several unique experiences. From journeying to Chicago's Partnership 2000 region of Kiryat Gat-Lachish-Shafir in the northern Negev to meeting Israeli teenagers in the Golan Heights to a mifgash (encounter) with Israeli Jewish, West Bank Palestinian and Israeli Arab teens at a Jerusalem YMCA, the trip gave us a glimpse into the lives of real Israelis. As Esther wrote in her post earlier this week, too often we forget amidst reporting on the conflict in the Middle East that Israel is a real country, where real people live regular day-to-day lives.

The very first day of programming brought one of my personal highlights: a visit to the Nalaga'at.  The attraction, whose name means "please touch" in Hebrew, houses a cafe, a restaurant and a theatre. Beyond good food and moving performances, Nalaga'at is about providing a glimpse into the darkness experienced by blind people and the noiseless world of the deaf. 

At the Blackout restaurant, foodies select their meals before entering the pitch-dark room. Not even watches or cell phones are allowed inside, where the darkness forces patrons to use the other four senses without having the benefit of sight. Our waitress, Shelli, who had become blind as an adolescent, led us into the dining room and made sure we were comfortable at the table. The waiters (all blind) use bells to figure out their positions so they don't bump into each other as they serve the food.

As we ate dinner, we had to figure out how to tell how much food was on our plates, how to fill a glass without spilling, how to pass baskets and carafes without getting the food and water all over us. It was an exercise in teamwork and self-awareness. When you're sitting in complete darkness, you're forced the relieve the awkwardness by talking—so our table shared our reactions to the darkness, played word games and tried to liken the experience to anything else in our past.

No other experience comes close to the constant need to focus on what's going on around you when you can't use your eyes. It's about impressions and distant memories rather than fully fleshed-out images. For example, I kept thinking that I was able to see my hands. In reality, my brain was trying to compensate for the lack of vision by sending images to my brain. Given that I know what my hands look like, I was able to "see" them move even in total darkness.

july_9_actors

Eleven deaf-blind actors recall memories, hopes and dreams in “Not By Bread Alone” at Nalaga’at in Yafo.

But the unique experience did not end there. After dinner, blinking in the fluorescent lights outside the restaurant, we joined throngs of others for "Not By Bread Alone", a performance by blind and deaf actors, most of whom lost vision and hearing later in life because of a genetic illness.

My mouth gaping open, I was fascinated by the show. I felt a special connection with the actors, four of whom came to Israel from the Former Soviet Union. As the smell of freshly baked bread wafted over the audience, I watched the 11-member troupe re-enact memories, recall dreams and joyful moments from their lives. The show, which is poignant and humorous at the same time, had the audience clapping with delight after ever scene. But afterward, as the actors were bowing, I realized that none of them can see or hear our appreciation. Perhaps they sensed the vibrations coming from the clapping or their interpreters conveyed our pleasure through a special touch-sign language. That was the moment that struck me most and made me appreciate how many dimensions of perception I have at my service.

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A match made in Exodus

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07/08/2010

exodus_july_large

A modern-day Moshe and Tzipora wandering a modern-day desert in Scottsdale

While watching The Ten Commandments in the week following Passover (my fiancé Mike’s tradition), we discovered something of biblical proportion—we share the same Hebrew names as Moses and his wife! Mike’s Hebrew name, not surprisingly, is Moshe and mine, Tzipora. Aside from joking that we were a “match made in Exodus,” I didn’t really think much more about it until now, as we reach the year countdown to our July wedding.

I recently started thinking about whether sharing our names with biblical heroes meant something—is it just mere coincidence or is it beshert?

A lot of things about my relationship with Mike do seem beshert. After college, we both had to struggle through some relationships that didn’t work out and make some difficult choices before we found each other. Mike, who seemed to know we were destined to be together from the moment we met at an employee health fair at the Jewish United Fund, patiently waited several months until I was no longer “in a relationship,” before picking me up with a nerdy work-related comment on my Facebook wall. From our first lunch date, when we “happened to run into each other” on our way to Potbelly, it seemed that all the pieces fit together perfectly. On the evening of our first real date, I remember totally surprising myself by thinking “this is it.”

Keeping this in mind, I decided I should look into this Tzipora thing—she was married to Moses for God’s sake, so she must have some advice for me in the marriage department.
 
Truthfully, at first I knew very little about Tzipora, aside from that fact that she was Jethro’s daughter, and therefore a pagan, not technically a Jew (at least not at first), and that she married the guy who receives the Torah from God. I know from The Ten Commandments that while Moses is a fugitive from Egypt, he comes upon Tzipora and her sisters near a well, fights off some shepherds who are giving the girls a hard time, and helps them with their work. When they return to their father, he is so grateful he promises Moses Tzipora’s hand in marriage.

I decided to consult with Rabbi Taron Tachman, who pointed out there are many parallels between our two stories. Mike, like Moses, is very patient. He waited until I was single just like Moses had to be patient while waiting for God to deliver the Ten Commandments. Just like Mike and I “happened to run into each other” at Potbelly that day, Moses and Tzipora “happened” to meet near the well. And speaking of wells, Moses picked Tzipora up at a well—and Mike picked me up at a (Facebook) wall. Okay, maybe that one’s a bit of a stretch.

While doing some more research on my own, I discovered there really isn’t much out there about Tzipora, except for this one curious incident at an inn in Exodus 4:24–26. As Moses and his family head back to Egypt to free the Hebrews and warn Pharaoh of the plagues, they stop somewhere to spend the night. This story is open to interpretation, but the common translation is this: God comes to try to supposedly kill Moses, possibly for not having circumcised his son. Tzipora, who gets this intuitively, because she’s cool like that, cuts off her son’s foreskin with a flint and God lets everyone be.
 
To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to make of this story or how this can apply to my future marriage. But it seems to me, that were it not for Tzipora, Moses may never have been able to “let my people go.”
 
In my googling, I also found an article in US News and World Report  about how Tzipora is totally underrated, calling her “the woman who stood up to God.” In the article, they also talk about the origin of the name Tzipora, which comes from the Hebrew word “Tzipor” meaning bird. One interpretation, the article says, is that she is given this name because she “would take flight with this strange man, Moses.”

The article quotes Jonathan Kirsch, author of The Harlot by the Side of the Road, about Tzipora’s role in Jewish history:

“In addition, Zipporah plays more than a supporting role in the future of the  Israelites. ‘Moses is God's chosen messenger, the most important biblical figure after Abraham,’ says Kirsch. Yet, Moses is at risk of losing his life, except for the intervention of Zipporah. The entire fate of Israel rests with her. ‘She, the pagan daughter of a priest, stood up to God,’ he adds…Zipporah is heroic, "decisive,  fearless, strong, the competent person in an emergency."

The Midrash praises Tzipora for her “piety, virtue and beauty,” which isn’t too shabby, and it seems to me that "decisive, fearless, strong and competent" are qualities I should strive for in my adult life. Maybe I’ll start by being decisive about our wedding colors, fearless enough to go up in the chair for the Horah and competent enough to finally call the photographer and set up an appointment already (sorry Mom). From there, on to bigger and better things like saving the Jewish people.

And as for Moses, well he’s no slacker himself. An Egyptian prince turned shepherd turned leader of the Jewish people leaves some pretty big shoes to fill, but Mike is as handsome as a prince and we are thinking about getting a puppy—does that count? Prince and all, Moses was definitely not perfect. As Rabbi Tachman pointed out, Moses was at times a real workaholic—I mean who was there to take care of the children while he disappeared on mountaintops for 40 days at a time? Tzipora! And while I do plan to support Mike in his career as an incredibly successful lawyer, I certainly won’t stand for him running off on business for 40 days at a time.

So what did I learn from the original Moshe and Tzipora? 1) Behind every great man, is a strong and competent woman. And 2) If I’m a bird about to take flight with my Moshe, even if we have to wander for 40 years, I think I’m ready for takeoff.

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The greatest Jewish basketball player who ever lived

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07/07/2010

Today marks my one year anniversary as The Great Rabbino. In TGR’s first year, it has been picked up by Oy!Chicago and the Jewish Journal. I was published in Schmooze Magazine. And I had a feature article in the Chicago Jewish News. I have created t-shirts, sold advertising space, and reached over 31,000 readers.

Maybe the best thing about being the creator of The Great Rabbino has been the opportunity to interview and speak with some amazing professional athletes and sport professionals, including: Yuri Foreman, Tal Brody, Colt Cabana, Craig Breslow, Sam Fuld, Bernie Fine, Paul Goldstein, Tamir Goodman Ron Blomberg, Steve Dubinsky, Nancy Lieberman, Brimestone, Chasyn Rance, Diamond Dallas Page (not actually Jewish, I found out), Jason Horowitz, Dane Diliegro, Brett Harvey, Yaniv Simpson, Maiya Chard-Yaron, Jason Bonder, Doron Kramer, Howard Megdal, Binnie Klein, Eliese Zukelman, Sean Wallis, Adam Carp, Tamar Katz, Tani Mintz, Drew Goldsmith, Steven Freeman, Josh Borenstein, Jeff Sugar, Jonathon Abramson, Dov Grumet-Morris and Ari Lucas...to name a few.

All of these sportsmen and women are great and have added to the Jewish sports world. But, in my opinion, none of them are as great as today's special guest interviewee. Today, on my one year anniversary, I bring to you a special exclusive interview with the greatest Jewish basketball player of all time... Dolph Schayes.

Truly, Dolph Schayes needs no introduction. Schayes is an NBA Hall of Famer and part of the 50 Greatest NBA Players list. Schayes was drafted in 1948 by the Philadelphia 76ers and he played until 1964. During his career he was a 12-time all star. When he retired, he was the NBA's all time leading scorer (19,249) and had played in the most NBA games (1,059). He was also the 1966 NBA Coach of the Year.

So check out my interview with the greatest Jewish basketball player of all time—the one, the only, Dolph Schayes (yes... the father of Danny Schayes).

1) Tell TGR a little bit about your playing days?
I loved the game...I played at NYU. Being tall definitely helped and I continued to develop. I got good and got some recognition. I received a scholarship to college—that was very helpful. I was the first in my family to go to college, and I made it into a professional career. My career lasted 15 years longer than I thought it would. And I coached a little bit.

2) What was it like seeing your son Danny play?
It was wonderful. He played for 18 years, which is two more than me. At the time, it was a more difficult position because he went up against Jabbar, Shaq, and Olajuwon. It was a credit to his team and himself that he lasted for so long, which proved he was valuable.

3) Who was the greatest player you ever played against?
Oscar Robertson was the best player I ever played against. But I played with some great players like West, Cousy, Pettit, Chamberlin, and Russell.

4) Who is the greatest player who ever lived?
You cannot really say who the best player who ever lived was, [but] Oscar is on that short list. Jordan, Russell, Wilt, Kobe, and Lebron are probably on there too.

5) What was it like being named to the top 50 greatest players list?
It was a wonderful pick from my point of view. To be in the same group as Magic and Bird meant a lot. It was certainly a proud day. When you realize that that team covered five to six decades and the pickers recognize the players from all those eras. I was lucky enough to be in the early days. I will tell my grandkids and they can be proud of it.

6) What does Dolph Schayes do today?
I own some property in Syracuse. I also own some toilets. It keeps me busy managing and owning these things. I am an avid basketball fan. I like the college game. Basketball is the greatest game in world with best athletes in the world. I also have a wonderful family that I spend my time with.

Thank you to Dolph Schayes for the great interview.

One year down in the books. Thank you to everyone for reading.

And Let Us Say... Amen.

For more information on anything and everything Jewish in sports check out www.thegreatrabbino.com 

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Apartment-dweller abroad

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07/06/2010

esther_abroad_large

Esther, world traveler, at age six.

I am a homebody who loves to travel. By the time you read this, I will have switched modes from nester to nomad, hopping a plane with a dear childhood friend and spending a significant portion of July in Spain, Italy and Israel. The closest I've ever been to Spain was Toulouse, France, when I was 4; in college I was the only one in my Italian classes who had never been all'Italia; and the last time I was in Israel, the Gulf War had just ended, so it's been a while.

People want to hear about what I'm doing this summer, and the range of reactions has been all over the place, particularly the moment I say I'm going to Israel. Some are thrilled that I'm about to experience it essentially for the first time, and talk about how much they love it and where I absolutely have to go. Others get nervous: their smiles turn to grimaces, and they tell me to be careful, or they make anxious jokes about my timing or the Israeli government. Some people I just don't tell.

The last thing I want is for this trip to be political. I was talking to my cousin on Skype about it, and he said, "People get so caught up in the symbolism of Israel they forget it's a real place where real people live." This is the Israel I'm most excited about seeing. I remember bits and pieces of it from before: the okapi at the Biblical Zoo, the playground near my aunt and uncle's apartment, the bus ride through the desert, and perhaps most aggravating for a six-year-old, being told I couldn't come on an afternoon trip because it was too hot out and I would get dehydrated. Now that I'm older, it'll be a different experience.

I'm less wary than I was a month ago, though I'm not completely at ease either. A month ago the world (and Helen Thomas) was raging about the flotilla, and in many of the spaces where I go to unwind or socialize, it was hard not to feel awfully alone. I'm worried about reports that more flotillas will set sail as soon as the World Cup ends (just about when I'm arriving). I'm unsettled that my aunt keeps reminding me to stay in touch before we come, since things can change so quickly. But then I remind myself how worried some friends and family were when I moved to Chicago. Seven years later, I'm still fine. If I keep waiting for the perfect opportunity to visit, I'll never get anywhere.

As I write this, I'm fretting about other things. Will I be able to clean my apartment before I leave, which I've been putting off? Will I make it out of Target with most of my travel budget still intact? Will I make my 6:25 a.m. flight at O'Hare? Will I forget that one vital thing that will make or break one leg of the trip? Will the hostels forget our reservations?

It wouldn't be an adventure if I could plan everything, though. My friend and I are going to have an absolute blast. And I'm very much looking forward to seeing my family again. One thing that's its own attraction, though, is the ability to come back and talk about Israel myself. Though I anticipate a lot of shopping and other fabulous experiences, that one may turn out to be my favorite souvenir. Catch you on the flip side, Oy!sters: for now, I have to check my packing list again.

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July 4th reflections

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Why I'm proud to be an American

07/02/2010

july4_rug

I was born in 1976, the year of the bicentennial, two weeks before July 4. My grandmother crocheted me a gigantic red-white-and-blue blanket, the size of a comforter. I thought of that blanket a couple of days ago when my great uncle passed away. At 97, he was the last of my grandmother's generation. I did not know Uncle Bill very well, he moved from South Bend, Indiana to Santa Cruz, California long before I was born. His sister, my grandmother, spoke about him as if he was the most famous physician in the world. Until adolescence, I thought I was related to the greatest doctor in the United States.

While I'm sure my great uncle was an excellent physician, I don't think my grandmother marveled or knew anything about his technical skills. What was amazing and thrilling to her was that she had a brother who was so incredibly successful.

Both he and my grandmother (and their five siblings) were first-generation Americans. According to family histories, my great grandmother came from Kolomyya, a town in the present day Ukraine, a place conquered by different kingdoms and empires over the centuries.

I am not exactly sure why my grandmother's family moved from there in the early 20th century, probably for better economic opportunity. However, had they remained they would have been murdered in the Holocaust.

july4_family

Family photo circa 1927

When my great grandparents came to America around 1910, they settled in South Bend, Indiana. They were extremely poor. My grandmother attended school until she was old enough (age 12 or 13) to drive a truck to and from Chicago to pick up fruit to sell in South Bend. Any extra money that they had went to pay medical bills for my grandmother's oldest sister. Eventually anything else, and it wasn't much, went to support their brother who went to medical school.

My grandmother's siblings have all had children, and the successes that we have achieved in this country would be astounding to the girl who owned two dresses in 1920 in South Bend or to her grandmother in Kolomyya.

I am proud of my family's Jewish roots and proud of the American Jewish community's steadfast and vocal support of Israel. And while I am very proud to be Jewish, and I work every day to show my love and support for Israel, on July 4th I remember my grandmother and think about how lucky I am to be a U.S. citizen.

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Holy Horah!

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07/01/2010

As for many Chicagoans in their mid-20s, for me, this past spring and early summer has meant two things: weddings and moving…and, well, more weddings. While moving is a time when one must decide which memories to hold onto, weddings are a time to make new ones. All of these events have cycled me through a strange whirlwind of emotions and nostalgia.

I began this wedding-moving-wedding journey as far back as April with a bachelorette weekend in Miami, followed by standing up at two weddings in Las Vegas and in Denver (a week apart), two moves—my own and my parents’ move—with another wedding coming up in July. As half-Jew Chelsea Handler would say: What a “hot mess.”

Aside from realizing my hatred for bridesmaid dress tailors, airline blackout dates and red-eye flights after long nights of wedding-related debauchery, I also realized how much I missed my friends and how much our lives have changed in a matter of four years since college. Instead of gabbing on about cute boys in our com arts class, we found ourselves gossiping about the latest engagements and knock-ups; instead of stressing about what we want to be when we grow up, we’re actually out there working—and praying our plans pan out.

My trip to Miami offered a reunion with friends I hadn’t seen since graduation and awakened a side of me that I missed. I remembered what it was like to have a night out with the girls that felt like a true escape. Work was thousands of miles and several days away. I could be myself with people who knew me inside and out, because we’d spent days and nights romping around Madison, WI in college.

The wedding in Las Vegas took me back nearly eight years. My college roommate of four years married the boy she met in our dorm freshman year. My other old roommate and I recounted years' worth of memories in our rehearsal dinner speeches. I talked about sitting in my pajamas in the dorm room counseling the now-groom on how to woo the bride. After eight years, their families are like extensions of my own—particularly because they’re Jewish. Their extended relatives knew my life story, though I’d only met them a couple times. It was such a wholesome, hamish love fest set in wild Las Vegas. It felt as though I had taken much of the couple’s journey along with them, making their wedding an unexpectedly emotional milestone. Yes, I sobbed.

The Vegas wedding, and also the one in Denver, while wonderful, also made me a bit sad. I realized I was closing a chapter on our friendships, on our youth, on our carefree days. First comes love, then comes marriage, then come babies…

I also began thinking about how little we actually change, despite these milestones. Just this week, I snail mailed one of my bat mitzvah invitations from 1997 to my friend in New York City. She was curious to see it after our late night chat in Denver before the wedding, during which we reminisced about our bat mitzvahs. We compared notes about the food, dessert table, theme and giveaways, and we agreed we wish we could burn the photos, which immortalized our awkward selves at 13.

Similarly, I spent a recent evening with friends watching a “Say Yes to the Dress” marathon and making boxed chocolate cake, which we dedicated to Bethenny Frankel of the Bravo TV shows “Bethenny Getting Married” and “Real Housewives of New York.” On the cake, we wrote in blue icing, “Mazel Tov Bethenny.” (We’re still debating sending the photographic evidence to Bravo.) I hate to say this, but our evening was not a far cry from my teeny bopper evenings spent with friends, giving each other makeovers and reading “Seventeen” magazine.

Now home from the first batch of weddings, I’ve found myself sifting through Prince and Billy Joel cassette tapes and Luke Perry posters at my parents’ place as they prepare for a move. The process of going through old things has been excruciating because my Jewish mother has instilled in me an irrational fear that I cannot throw things away. One day, I might need that Prince tape, one day…

My friend, who is Jewish and also moving, said she too has an irrational fear of throwing old items away. We’ve decided the neurosis is a remnant of our Jewish immigrant relatives who had to leave at a moment’s notice and take everything they could carry on the boat. My mother and I have argued about throwing out a variety of things away—her answer is always, “Save it for my grandchildren.”

If I’ve learned anything from this milestone whirlwind tour, it’s that memories shape who we are: Some fit in cardboard boxes, others tell the story of how a bride and groom met and some are just small steps in our development. While I can’t say Prince changed my life, many of those friends I spent long nights with pouring over “Seventeen” magazines, or baking cakes are part of this crazy journey. I’ve realized too, that it’s OK to let some memories and experiences go, to make room for the new ones. And if all else fails…there’s always storage.

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Top seven perks of living near your (Jewish) grandparents

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06/30/2010

Top seven perks of living near your (Jewish) grandparents photo

Bubzie and Papa

Growing up, I never lived close to any relatives. Sure, my family of four had its fair share of friends who certainly FELT like family, but the closest blood relation lived about 400 miles away.

This all changed the summer after I turned eight. That’s when my family moved from Plymouth, MN to Northbrook, IL. My dad’s company was relocating to Chicago, so we moved with it. I still remember the moment when we turned onto our new street, at midnight, seven and a half hours of driving later.

Who do we see on our driveway? My mom’s parents (aka my “Bubzie and Papa”), my great aunt Jane, my uncle Steven, and my mom’s cousins Ellen and Dana jumping up and down, in their pajamas, barely able to contain their excitement. You see, much of my mother’s side of the family lives in the Chicago area, and we had just been initiated into their group by finally living within ten miles of each other. A few years later, my dad’s parents (aka my “Grammie and Grandpa”) bought an apartment in Chicago, and for the first time ever, I had both sets of grandparents within driving distance.

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Grammie and Grandpa

I had no idea how this would change my life, other than being able to see my family more often. But, little did I know how awesome it is to live so close to my grandparents. And so, following in the Oy! spirit of top seven lists, I give you the top seven perks of living near your (Jewish) grandparents:

1. You have a built-in entourage for events.
When I was younger, my cheering section at dance recitals was one that could rival this year’s World Cup. While most other girls had their parents and siblings in the audience, I was that lucky girl who would sometimes have BOTH sets of grandparents yelling my name.

2. Holidays just got a lot better.
When the holidays roll around, make sure to set the table for 20! We never have a dull moment, never dread the prerequisite dinner that comes with certain times of the year. Our holiday meals are right out of a Seinfeld episode!

3. One word: leftovers.
After those holiday meals, where do you think all the extra food goes? Lunch, dinner, and snacks for the rest of week! And I’m not talking about just ANY leftovers, but delicious, home-cooked, holiday delicacies. I eat like royalty after the holidays!

4. You have someone to rely on.
If you are going out of town and need help with pets, house responsibilities, you need a babysitter or things of that matter, and your grandparents are able to spare some time, you know you can always rely on family. And that goes both ways! If they ever need help you can be there for them, too. Bottom line, you know you can always call on family to be there for you if you need it.

5. Speaking of calling, whenever you’re feeling low, who ya gonna call?
When I was in elementary school, middle school, and high school, and I wasn’t feeling well, sometimes my parents weren’t able to come pick me up. Instead of having to suffer in the nurse’s office at school, I knew I could always call my grandparents to drive me home and help me feel better.

6. Did I mention the cooking?
Not only does my Bubzie make the best food for holiday meals, but also random Sunday night dinners at my grandparents’ house are some of the best meals I’ve ever had. My Bubzie likes to collect cookbooks from all over the world, and she puts them to good use, always trying new dishes.

7. And the most important perk of all: you get to spend as much time as you possibly can with your grandparents!
‘Nuff said.

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The decade in Jewish comedies

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06/29/2010

Fade to black hats photo 2 

Every year since 2000, there has been at least one American comedy with a Jewish theme in the theaters. There has never been a decade with more, or more obviously Jewish, material on display on the big screen.

The first wave of comedies with overtly Jewish characters or themes came in the late 1960s, with The Producers, Funny Girl, and Goodbye Columbus, although those last two had their more serious moments as well. The 1970s brought us another interfaith-romance classic, Annie Hall, and the Western bromance The Frisco Kid. That decade also brought the first of a wave of Jewish nostalgia-comedies, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz.

Aside from Private Benjamin and Down and Out in Beverly Hills, the 1980s continued that long look back. My Favorite Year, Driving Miss Daisy, Brighton Beach Memoirs and Biloxi Blues, plus— by Woody Allen alone— Broadway Danny Rose, Radio Days, and Zelig… were mostly set in the 1940s and ’50s. This rearview-mirror mentality even persisted into the 1990s, with Mr. Saturday Night, Liberty Heights, and the lesser-known Genghis Cohn.

Which brings us to the decade now closing—the 2000s. In just 10 years, we have had comedies based on nearly every well-known aspect of Jewish life. Some were even about contemporary Jewish life.

Eight Crazy Nights and The Hebrew Hammer riffed on Chanukah, When Do We Eat? was set at a Passover seder, and For Your Consideration was a movie… about a movie… about Purim.

Turning (scrolling?) to the Torah, Year One’s characters included Cain, Abel, Abraham and Isaac. Did they skip over Noah? Not a problem; he was covered in Evan Almighty. What about the Big Ten themselves? The comedy The Ten was a series of 10 stories, each about what happens when one of the Ten Commandments is broken.

Romance, of course, is still a major theme for comedies, and this past decade brought us a woman fought over by a rabbi and a priest (Keeping the Faith)… a man introducing his fiancée to his very open Jewish parents (Meet the Fockers)… and a Jewish man on the rebound with his grade-school crush (Along Came Polly). All of which starred Ben Stiller. Then there were the romances with a Jewish woman who enacts a title of a certain Katy Perry song (Kissing Jessica Stein)… and a Jewish man whose mom is his girlfriend’s therapist (Prime).

Speaking of Steins, Keeping Up with the Steins was about a bar mitzvah. Wet Hot American Summer was set in a supposedly Jewish summer camp (although I didn’t notice anything Jewish about it). Goyband was about a boy band hired to play at a kosher casino, while Marci X had a Jewish woman running a rap label. And You Don’t Mess with Zohan was about an Israeli Mossad agent.

Then we had the movies in which the dysfunctional families were “Jewish”; perhaps they had Jewish last names or something, even if there was little Jewish content or context to their lives shown onscreen.  These movies included, In Her Shoes and It Runs in the Family.

So, the Jewish comedy movies output of the 2000s were voluminous, diverse, and even somewhat popular. They had only one overarching problem: the Jewish comedies of the 2000s tried too hard for not enough payoff.

They slathered on silly costumes, R-rated content, and even special effects instead of coming up with genuinely funny material. They didn’t tell compelling stories, many making the same mistake that SNL-skit based movies do— try to stretch a 90-second premise to 90 minutes. They didn’t create characters that viewers could identify with. They were mean and snarky, basing their “humor” on pain or embarrassment. And their dissing of Judaism itself was not balanced by any sense of pride in it.

None of these movies had Oscar-level material, like Annie Hall, which won in 1977, or Driving Miss Daisy, which won in 1990. None had Oscar-worthy acting, like Funny Girl, or even Oscar-nominated work, like Mr. Saturday Night, Private Benjamin, Goodbye Columbus, Broadway Danny Rose, or Radio Days. And none of the 2000s movies has the potential to become a Broadway musical, like The Producers or My Favorite Year.

None has had the warm fraternity of The Frisco Kid, the intellectual zing of Zelig, or the decade-defining influence of Duddy Kravitz. And while the current show Glee just featured a song from 1968’s Funny Girl, none of the Jewish comedies from the 2000s will be remembered even four years from now, let alone 40.

There were some well-made— even very good— movies this decade whose characters were, perhaps, Jewish. But the movies themselves, not so much. Are these— I Love You Man, American Splendor, Whatever Works, I Want Someone to Eat Cheese With, Greenberg— “Jewish movies,” just because their protagonists are pseudo-intellectual, anti-romantic, cynical, neurotic curmudgeons who happen to be Jews?

Even Inglourious Basterds, adrenaline rush that it was, was not so much about Jews as it was about— in the words of its Southern-fried hero— “killin’ Nazis.” The main conflict was between a redneck and a Nazi; the only well-defined Jewish character was Shoshana, also fueled more by anti-Nazi revenge than pro-Jewish pride. If anything, the movie reminds us that more people than Jews hated the Nazis. (We can also add this to the list of Jewish movies that look at back then instead of right now.)
 
I can think of only one movie in the past 10 years that upholds the standards of the past. It is a romance with multiple— and relatable— Jewish characters, a discussion on Jewish values, and even a nod to the key role Jewish music producers played in classic rock. The film? Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist. This movie, in the words of one of its characters, knew how to “bring the Jewfire.” No cartoony Zohans or Hammers, no Ecstacy-spiked kiddush cups, no bar-joke premises (“So a rabbi and a priest are in love with the same woman, see…”) Just a couple of 20somethings trying to connect while keeping their integrity, sanity, and friends. It could be the Annie Hall of its generation.

The next decade of Jewish comedies needs to bring the humanity back to the plots and characters, set against Jewish life in the 21st century. There are plenty of aspects of today’s Jewish life that are yet unexplored in American comedies, from bat mitzvahs to Jewish campus life to JDate (which the series From Date to Mate is actually handling very well). And, with the population in general aging, there is an underserved market for AARP-friendly Jewish comedies as well— where is this generation’s Sunshine Boys?

The template for more humanized comedy exists in the work of the great new Jewish filmmaker Judd Apatow and movies like Juno, Little Miss Sunshine, and Adventureland.

So, Ben Stiller, Paul Rudd, and Adam Sandler— we’re only going to give you a hundred more chances. Let’s see what you can come up with in the 2010s.

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Beantown!

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06/28/2010

Beantown! photo

I recently spent several days in Boston with my son Ari who is a student at MIT (much Jewish mother kvelling). Boston is an easily maneuverable city, unlike Chicago, LA or New York. You can get from point A to point B without much cab fare, train time or stress. I love the cobblestone streets and the monuments on every corner that I HAD to read much to Ari’s displeasure.

You cannot go to Boston without thinking about it’s nickname “beantown”— although I did not see one restaurant that served the sweet-creamy legumes. So, I returned from Boston craving beans, which are one of my favorite childhood summertime BBQ side dishes. I did not really think I was going to eat them in Boston, but had sort of expected to see some chef do a menu-play on the classic. But I guess I will be that chef! With July 4th and the long weekend ahead I decided to riff baked beans—bringing the classic dish into the modern age.

I left in the molasses, which is a remnant from Boston’s not so puritanical past in the rum trade. Molasses adds an earthy deep sweetness that brings out the nuttiness of the beans. I used Navy beans for both their ability to hold their shape as well as their historical use in the classic dish.

I added my two favorite pantry ingredients— pimenton and root beer. Pimenton is smoked paprika which adds an incredible complex smokiness that deepens the flavor of many of my favorite recipes. By adding the pimenton to the bean recipe, I achieved an off-the-grill smokiness and heightened the sweetness of the molasses. I also added root beer for sweet and slightly spicy layer to the dish. Of course you could just use tap water, but why would you when you have a flavor-packed liquid ready at hand? Serve this vegetarian dish with your favorite grilled foods or as a protein packed vegetarian entrée.

Sweet and Smoky Baked Beans

2 large red onions, cut into small dice
6 garlic cloves, minced finely
olive oil
½ cup molasses
½ cup ketchup (I prefer Heinz-organic)
1 cup root beer (do not use diet root beer)
3 tablespoons Dijon style mustard
2 tablespoons hot pimenton*
3 28-ounce cans Navy beans or Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed
Salt and Pepper

Preheat oven to 350 or preheat slow cooker to high

1. Heat a large sauté pan over medium high heat. Lightly coat the pan with olive oil. Caramelize the onions until they are deep golden brown and have softened slightly (about 7 minutes). Add the garlic and continue cooking for an additional 3 minutes until the garlic is very fragrant and slightly softened.  Transfer the onions and garlic to a large casserole or slow cooker.

2. Combine all of the ingredients in the casserole or slow cooker. Bake in the oven for 40 minutes until the sauce is bubbly. Or cook in the slow cooker for 2 hours until the sauce is bubbly.

Serve with chicken, fish, burgers and dogs or anything!

*Pimenton can be purchased online at www.thespicehouse.com. Pimenton comes either Sweet or Hot. I prefer hot.

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Secrets of an injured trainer

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06/24/2010

Secrets of an injured trainer photo

My workouts used to be intense. I rested only when I needed it. The pace of the workout was fast, and I mixed in weight training with cardio. When it was over, I was ravenous and pumped. Fast forward three slightly painful years later.

My right shoulder has a tear in one of the four muscles that make up the rotator cuff. The impingement in my shoulder has gone from bad to worse. The pain in my right hip was also finally diagnosed. After an uncomfortable hour and 30 minutes sitting under an MRI machine with my feet taped together, I found out there are two cracks in my hip.

Sadly, I have to alter the intensity of my workout. The days of jumping on a box, throwing a medicine ball at the wall, and bench pressing are over— for now. What to do? How am I going to stay in shape?

I still workout five or so days a week.  I do a little cardio, body weight exercises and rehab type movements/stretches. The way I burn most of my calories? Training others. Yes, that’s right, I burn more calories training people then I burn in my own workout. Here are three workout tips that can help whether you are injured or not:

#1 Move around all the time. Even when you are not working out, go for a walk, garden, play with the kids, play catch, or vacuum. The gardening does not take place of your workout, it’s just another way to be active.

#2 Find out what your limitations are. If you have bad knees, maybe you need to bike not run. Go to a physical therapist and fix that ailing back or wrist. Once you figure out what you can’t do, stay away from that and find exercises you can do. I found out that rowing doesn’t really bother me, so that’s my cardio for now. If you are having trouble figuring out what hurts, take a notepad with you to the gym.

#3 Train your core! The definition of core varies from trainer to trainer, book-to-book, the simple definition of your core is your hips, butt, lower back and stomach. Core has been a buzz word in the fitness industry the past five years and the term is not going away. These movements help in sports and in daily life.  Exercises such as the plank, clams, or hip raises are all simple exercises to fit in your workout.

Working out is only part of the healthy equation.  Another huge part of the equation is diet! When I say diet, I mean the food you eat regularly, not some starvation tactic to drop a few pounds. Since I am less active then I used to be, I eat a little less crap. When I say crap, I mean sweets. That’s my weakness, I love a good cookie. I still eat them; I just eat half a cookie now. I really do not believe in cutting out foods you love, simply eat less of them. Here are a few other diet tips:

#1 Have a fat meal. Once a week, have a meal with the food you love. Keep in mind, if you love deep dish pizza or fried chicken that can be your cheat food, just pay attention to the portion size. A cheat meal helps keep you honest during the week. If you know on Saturday you are going to Harold’s Fried Chicken, then you will be more likely to skip McDonald’s during the week. A cookie is not going to kill you, but if you eat a few min-snickers in the office, a handful of M&M’s and a cookie it will add inches.

#2 Size matters! I alluded to this in the last tip, portion control is important. This is probably the single greatest cause of obesity, people eat huge meals and they eat them often. I’m not saying don’t eat a burger, I had one the other day and it was delicious. However, if the burger is the size of a cow, only eat a quarter of it. If you are at a restaurant known for big portions (i.e. Cheesecake Factory) ask them to only bring out half your meal and package the other half up to take home.

#3 Read labels. Whether you are in a grocery store or at a restaurant, either read the label or look online for nutritional information! The amount of fat, calories and salt in any sandwich or salad at Cosi or Corner Bakery will blow your mind. I’m talking 1,000 calories, 30 plus grams of fat and your total daily allowance of sodium in one salad! If you love a certain salad or sandwich, look for ways to make it healthier— cut the bacon, light on the cheese, dressing on the side.

#4 Eat more fruits and vegetables. This is the easiest way to feel good and look good. Fruits and veggies have fiber, vitamins, water and other nutrients that you just can’t find in most other foods.  Another great thing about this simple trick— these types of foods help fill you up.  Hit the grocery store and load up on apples, pears, broccoli, carrots and whatever else you like. The key to this tip, is to prepare the food right when you get home— cut up the carrots, peppers, pull the grapes off the vine— then it’s handy for preparing in recipes and snacks.

In the past three years I have maintained my weight through following these tips. If you ask my coworkers, they will tell you I do not starve myself or avoid cookies. I simply eat half of the cookie. And I still workout, it’s just a bit less intense. Being injured is frustrating but don’t let it force you out of your skinny jeans (for the record I do not own a pair of skinny jeans). For more tips, follow me on twitter @fitwithkrit.

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My encounter with Intro to Judaism—why it wasn’t just an easy A

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06/23/2010

This past quarter, I decided to take a religion class—well, I didn’t decide so much as I have to take a religion course before I graduate—and I was presented with two options.

I could take Introduction to Buddhism…or Introduction to Judaism.

Tough choice. If I took the former, I’d be learning all about a different culture entirely. Sure it would be a challenge—but it would be interesting, I wouldn’t be bored, and I wouldn’t feel guilty about wasting my parents’ tuition money. However, if I took the latter, I would be guaranteed to ace the class, right? I mean, I went through the whole Hebrew school ordeal and graduated at the end of seventh grade, I was bat mitzvahed, and while I wouldn’t call myself an expert on Jewish history I certainly know my fair share of the stories. I wouldn’t even have to really try; it’s an easy A!

It’s not difficult to guess the choice I made. Obviously, Intro to Judaism beat out Buddhism. If you were a college student, you would have chosen the same way I did. I was loaded down with other difficult courses, and taking one easy course wasn’t going to hurt anybody, right?

So there I am, headed off to my first class of Intro to Judaism. I sit down with some people I know, and as we wait for the lecture to begin we all laugh and joke about how unfair it is that I’m taking this class while they—none of them Jewish—are going to struggle to learn and retain the information.

“You already know everything there is to know!” one friend laments.

“You don’t even have to GO to class, you could just come for the midterm and final!” adds another.

I laughed them off, but secretly agreed that this would be a breeze. Then lecture started.

And I was wrong.

I sat through that first lecture in shock. Where was this information coming from? It had to be true, since the professor who was teaching the course was Jewish. But why didn’t they teach us all this history in Hebrew school (it would only have improved my time spent there)? There were groups of people I had never heard of, periods of time that were completely new to me, and all the stories that had been ingrained into my mind my entire life weren’t being referenced…what was going on?

I quickly learned that this class was NOT going to be the easy A I had previously thought it would. It was as if I was learning an entirely new culture’s history altogether…why didn’t I just take Intro to Buddhism, where I at least had an excuse to be completely lost in the content of the class? But I had made my decision to take Intro to Judaism, and I couldn’t admit defeat after just one lecture. And hey, maybe it would get easier! Maybe after a few lectures we’d get into familiar territory and all would be well!

I guess I should let you know now that I’m a wishful thinker…sometimes to the point that I’ll convince and delude myself into thinking everything will turn out okay despite the hardships ahead of me. Sure this makes me a perpetually happy person, but it can cause some serious issues. Sometimes, the best course of action in life is to assess the possible outcomes of a decision and if the outcome is undesirable, then cut your ties and RUN. This is one of those times.

Too bad I didn’t follow that little nugget of wisdom. It would have saved me a lot of time and grief.

The next few weeks of class did not get any better. All these names and dates and events started to blur together in my mind. Who was Zoroaster? Who were the Amora? And what was theodicy? I was completely lost in my own religion, where I used to think I was the safest.

Not only was the content difficult, but also the worst part was the fact that everyone assumed I was having the most relaxing time taking that class. While studying as hard and as diligently as I possibly could for the midterm and final, everyone would come over to my table where I had set up camp to empathize about the hardships of studying with me—until they found out what I was working on. When I told them I was studying for Intro to Judaism, I received variations of this same question:

“Why?!?”

I tried explaining to my friends, over and over, how this class was all about obscure parts of Jewish history that I hadn’t learned before, but my justifications fell on deaf ears.

I think that was the first time I had ever been judged for STUDYING in my life.

Needless to say, I studied enough to get a grade in the class with which I was happy, but the journey to get there was not the smooth and carefree one on which I had been banking. On the bright side, I learned a lot more about my own religion’s history, and I feel a better sense of accomplishment knowing I didn’t just coast my way through a class. My parents can rest a little easier too, knowing their tuition payments are going to good use.

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A striking event for a cosmic cause

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06/22/2010

A striking event for a cosmic cause photo

As co-chair of the upcoming Jewish Child & Family Services (JCFS) Striking Event, I regularly find myself in the position of asking people to support a cause that’s important to me.  I can speak at length about the people the agency impacts and the quality of their services, but it wasn’t until recently when someone asked me why it matters to me personally, that I realized that the work of JCFS has, in one way or another, been a part of my life for many years.

Growing up in Cleveland, my mom and dad made the decision to open our doors to two teens in foster care.  I've never forgotten that experience and they have each left an imprint in my life.  How amazing for me that we were part of providing these kids the gift of a family—even if for just a short while.

During grad school, I had an opportunity to work at the Response Center, a place for teenagers and their families to go for help—whether for medical exams or counseling.  While there, two experiences really stood out to me—a teenage girl just looking for a place to fit in and an Irish family with a troubled teen.  I was able to help the girl realize that she wasn't on a good path and that people cared.  I worked mostly with the sweet Irish parents, who were having a difficult time connecting with each other, while dealing with their teenager at home.  Who was I to give them marital advice?  But I did and when our time together ended, they gave me a thank you gift of a plaque inscribed with an Irish blessing.  I still have it on my desk today and remember the impact I had on them.

Most recently I volunteered at a JCFS respite program.  Imagine having a special needs child...or multiple, who demands your attention at all times.  It can get very exhausting and maybe even wear on your marriage.  JCFS provides respite for these families.  I was happy to be a small part of giving them even a brief Sunday afternoon break.

In the end, though, it is not what I’ve been able to give that has been most meaningful, but what I have gotten back.  I’ve only touched upon some of the invaluable services that JCFS provides on a daily basis to so many people—the people that mean the most to us in our lives—our children, parents and grandparents, and who knows, maybe you.

I have the honor of serving on the board of directors for JCFS and co-chairing its upcoming “Striking Event.”  I hope you and your family will come out for a fun-filled day at Pinstripes, on Sunday, June 27 to learn more about this wonderful and important agency!  For more information, go to www.jcfs.org.

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My favorite XY chromosome

 Permanent link
06/21/2010

My favorite XY chromosome photo 1

My dad is one of those dads who is always forwarding things to me. Mostly his forwards are of funny pictures or terrible jokes or quirky news stories, but one time he wrote to talk about his genetic haplogroup.

My dad is not Jewish, though since he is from New York, people often think he is. My last name (Bergdahl), which most people can’t seem to place, is Swedish: it means mountain-valley, and was made up sometime in the nineteenth century, when my forebears decided not to be Andersons anymore. The reason I bring this up is because I like to kid people about my roots: I’m a Swedish-Irish-Lithuanian Jew raised in Appalachia, which is a little outside mainstream expectations.

The genetics appear to be even more interesting. My father’s brother signed up for one of those haplogroup analysis tests from National Geographic. Haplogroups are how geneticists organize ancestry analysis: one analogy likens them to branches on the Homo sapiens family tree. Certain DNA markers correlate to populations in certain geographic locations. When my uncle’s results came back, we found out that my dad’s family had an unexpected origin: its Y-chromosome is most predominant in Europeans who speak Uralic languages and live close to the Arctic Circle.

“What does that mean?” I asked him. “Does this make me a Lappish Jew?” (Lapps, Finns, Estonians and Samoyeds are examples of Uralic language-speaking peoples.)

“I wouldn’t go that far,” my dad said.

“Am I a Viking?” A Jewish Viking would be pretty cool, you have to admit.

I think he asked if I had ever found myself longing for reindeer. I may have told him I’d check to see if it was kosher.

The genetics on my mom’s side of the family, all Litvaks, are fascinating too. Not because she took a test, but because scientists have just published a massive study of the Jewish genome, if you will, and discovered some amazing things. Researchers took samples from 237 individuals around the world, each of whom had all four grandparents born in the same community, and compared their DNA. As it turns out, Jews really are something special: Mizrahi, Sephardic and Ashkenazi Jews all share common genetic markers, which point to a Middle Eastern origin, and are more closely related to each other than the communities in which they settled.

Here’s another amazing thing about this study. The researchers behind it hope that their analysis will provide a baseline against which to measure future studies about the origins of genetic diseases and hereditary cancers, not just in Jews but in everybody. Cooler than a Jewish Viking, I’d say.

My dad thought so too. Like clockwork, an article popped up in my inbox the day the study came out. Followed, of course, by photos of people who look like their pets. Love you too, Dad.

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iPhone envy

 Permanent link
06/17/2010

Eighteen months ago, there was nothing my husband wouldn’t do to get himself an iPhone.  Knowing that the phone was quite pricy, his wife was quite pregnant and his mortgage was, shall we say, significant, he realized it wasn’t the best economic investment.  The man spent a considerable amount of time strategizing ways to make the phone financially accessible.  In the end, he requested gift cards to the Apple store for every single gift-giving event that year, saved them all up, and by December, he was happily downloading apps and checking fantasy football scores.

Fast forward to today.  The husband has announced he is getting rid of his iPhone.  The reason?  He wants the newer iPhone.

As someone who could care less about cell phones, and typically forgets to bring her phone along as she leaves the house, this revelation was quite staggering.

After the months of longing, the year of saving gift cards, how is it possible that he can simply toss it?

He says the new iPhone is faster.  He can multi-task with it.  He likes that it’s more powerful.

He wants the new phone because it’s cooler.  It seems that most people agree with him.  In just one day, 600,000 people pre-ordered the new iPhone.  And that number is likely lower than what Apple could’ve sold, since an unexplained web malfunction caused AT&T, the iPhone’s exclusive wireless provider, to halt online pre-orders.

Six hundred thousand people who have not seen, held or used this phone have scrambled to get on a pre-order list. This despite the fact that a January Consumer Reports survey of 54,000 consumers ranked AT&T last among wireless providers in 19 of the 26 major cities included in the study.

I marvel at Apple’s complete and utter power over us.  And I wonder what those 600,000 people are going to do with their “old” iPhones.

I posited that question to my husband, who told me he’d give it back to AT&T.  When I casually suggested that instead, he should give it to me, he looked at me like I was crazy.

“You don’t need an iPhone!”

But Apple told me that I do.

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Moses couldn’t, but you can

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06/16/2010

Shorashim logo

For the past month I have been in Israel working for Shorashim and meeting with all of our Chicago community groups who have spent 10 awesome days seeing Israel with Israelis.

The past several hours I have been sitting in my friend's apartment in downtown Tel Aviv preparing Shabbat materials for a special Taglit-Birthright Israel: Shorashim trip called The Israel Challenge. The Israel Challenge will include the same elements of any Shorashim trip and as a bonus, 10 challenges similar to those you might see on a reality TV show. The winners won’t become MTV stars or Bravo-lebrities, but they will receive gift cards to Uncle Dan's.

The challenges will not be revealed until the day of the events, so I can't speak of them here. However, I can tell you that my responsibility is coming up with a Shabbat-friendly challenge, which has led me to delve deep into this week's Torah portion: Chukat.

God tells Moses that he cannot enter the land of Israel because, seemingly, he hit a rock. Moses’s lack of faith in God ends his 40 year arduous journey through the desert with the worst punishment ever: Moses is denied entrance to the Holy Land.

The punishment does not seem to fit the crime and thousands of commentators from the ancient to the modern have multiple theories. The two most prevalent are that  Moses’s punishment was for previous wrongdoings and the striking of the rock was the last straw or that Moses was no longer fit for leadership of the Jewish people, therefore it was time for his journey to end before they crossed into Israel.

As I compile sources and read, I take a break and walk downstairs to Dezingoff Street to buy Schweppes Rimonim (carbonated pomegranate juice!!!) and am overwhelmed by the heat, the sounds, and the smells of what is downtown Tel Aviv.

There was no Tel Aviv thousands of years ago when the Bible was written. But I can't help but think of the fact that Moses, this great political prophetic figure was not allowed to enter the land of Israel, yet I fly here twice a year. Thousands of Birthright Israel participants are afforded this opportunity thanks to Jewish Federations across America, many generous philanthropists and the state of Israel.

Perhaps every person who comes to Israel brings Moses with them in their heart. And although he was not allowed to enter the land, almost anyone else who wants to, many for free, can and I hope that you will do so soon.

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The 30-year picture show

 Permanent link
06/15/2010

The 30-year picture show photo 1

When my husband turned 30 in late April, his whole life flashed before his eyes.

Well, actually, it was just a slideshow of pictures―at least one for every year―that I put together as a surprise for his birthday.

There he is at four, in short-shorts and a striped T-shirt, the colors lost to the glory of black-and-white film. Or wearing his dad’s Soviet military cap. Or hanging out with his grandparents on the wall of a Middle Ages wooden fortress. Or striking a cool pose in a leather jacket or on top of a skateboard. Still later, the photos show him surrounded by computer parts or talking on his cell phone as he’s preparing for a photo shoot on our wedding day.

The 30-year picture show photo 2

I had seen—or taken—some of these photos, but many were unearthed for the first time. They’d sat in an album at his parents’ house for quite a bit without being peeked at. The yellowed pages of the album were a testament to just how many years my other half has lived.

My mother-in-law carefully peeled the photos off their pages and sent me a large package of snapshots about a month before my husband’s birthday. I scanned them in, touched up some of them to get rid of the scratches, and arranged them in a PowerPoint presentation. That was the easy part.

The 30-year picture show photo 5

I chose to ignore the hard part and instead of writing cheeky captions to each photo, I simply put the year on each slide. But I couldn’t quite escape the storytelling part of the project. As the slideshow displayed snippets of my husband’s life so far, I told stories about many of the pictures―where they were taken, how old he was, what he might have been thinking while looking at the camera. That last part was totally fictional, of course.

As I was putting the slideshow together, I laughed at the sight of the cute little boy in short shorts and I smiled at the 21-year-old I fell in love with. It made me relive some very happy memories, like picnics in the park, our wedding, trips abroad, concerts and get-togethers with friends.

And now, all the old photos from the Soviet era are digital, so we don’t have to worry about the paper yellowing or disintegrating. More than a fun birthday surprise, this was about preserving memories.

The 30-year picture show photo 4

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MWF Seeking BFF: The Second City Factor

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06/14/2010

Rachel Bertsche photo

I am a Married White Female searching for a Best Friend Forever.

It’s not that I don’t have best friends, mind you. It’s that I moved to Chicago three years ago to be with my now-husband, and my closest friends live in New York, Boston, DC, San Francisco, and St. Louis. Everywhere but here.

I’m looking for someone to invite over to watch The Biggest Loser or to text “pedicure in half an hour?” on a Saturday morning. To me, that’s what BFFs are. Not just people who know your innermost secrets, but the ones up for grabbing a bite on a whim because they love being with you just that much, and getting together feels easy and natural rather than a chore you need to pencil in.

When I tell people, specifically women, about my quest, they usually say one of two things: “That’s the story of my life!” or “That’s so funny!” The distinguishing trait between these two groups is what I’ve come to call the Second City Factor.

It’s in the second city after college where you find yourself trying to recall the skills you initially picked up in the sandbox. Friendships don’t fall in our laps like they did during summer camp or college. In the post-graduate world, making friends is as tricky a dance as dating—am I coming on too strong? When can I call her again? Did she like me, or did she like like me?

When early 20somethings first leave school for the big city, they’re surrounded by other real-world freshman in the same boat. Everyone’s a novice in the workforce, looking for buddies to drink, gossip, and go to the movies with. They’re all relatively new in town (even if you’re back home, there’s a good chance you’ve been away the last four years). A bunch of first-timers in the full-time workforce, unfettered by college classes or midterm papers, in that doe-eyed conquer-the-world mindset. Making friends is easy—everyone’s more or less looking for the same thing.

The decision to move to the second post-college city, however, is usually made independent of friends. No matter if you do it for love, career, family, or school, the second move is on your own terms. And given that you’ve probably got a few post-grad years under your belt, you’re not guaranteed a sea of new-in-town friend prospects this time. The buddies you’re looking for often have BFF saturation. There are no openings for new applicants. ( The Philosophy of Friendship  author Mark Vernon told the BBC the number of true close friends a person can have is between six and 12. This doesn’t always leave room for the new kids). So my friends who’ve found themselves in towns where they’d never imagined setting up shop tell me my story rings true. Suddenly, they’re floundering in the search for that certain someone, despite having been surrounded by plenty of perfect someones all their lives.

And those friends and I are in good company. The latest census data is not available yet, but according to the 2000 census, over one-third of all movers between 1995 and 2000 were young adults (defined as those between the ages of 25 and 39). About 75 percent of young, single, college-educated adults reported moving in that time period, while 72.3 percent of young, college-educated married adults did. That is to say, there are a lot of second-city dwellers out there. And a good majority of my friends who haven’t moved might be consulting this column in the next decade.

If my theory holds true—if most of those blessed with Second City Syndrome are on some sort of BFF quest (granted, perhaps not as explicitly as I)—there are probably a lot of women wandering around their neighborhoods, eyeing prospective ladies for Sunday brunch or Saturday evening cocktails.

And then there are those who graduated college, headed for New York or DC or what have you, and never left. When I tell them my plan to actively seek out a BFF using whatever means necessary—I’ll pick her up at a book store! Approach her at yoga!—they say “That’s hilarious,” with a tone that’s two parts pity, one part “atta boy!” and one part “you’re kind of a loser.” They don’t know the awkward pain of leaving a friend-date unsure if you’re supposed to hug or handshake (hug!), the frustration of having no one to drag along to a wedding dress fitting at the very last minute, or just how not-the-same it is to talk on the phone once a week to the best friend with whom you used to grab a bite twice a week.

They judge, for now.

They’ll change their tune when they find themselves unpacking the linens in their second city, strategizing how soon is too soon to ask the stylish neighbor to drinks. (Hint: Give it a week.)

Read more about new Oy! blogger Rachel’s quest to meet her new BFF.

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Summer reading

 Permanent link
06/10/2010

Now that hockey season is over (woohoo Blackhawks!), The Real Housewives of New York concludes tonight, Team Motorboat crossed the Avon Breast Cancer Walk finish line last Sunday and I have no more weddings till the fall, it looks like I’m finally going to have some free time!  (At least until I leave for Israel in three weeks.)

What’s a girl to do?  Catch up on my summer reading.  I LOVE to read—my office at home is an overflowing mess of bookshelves—but I rarely find the time between all my activities and my TV shows to read, so this summer I’m dedicating my free time to books.

Here’s my list of books to read by the pool this summer.  Feel free to make your own recommendations and post them at the bottom:

City of Thieves  by David Benioff and  The Help  by Kathryn Stockett - I already read these two, but they were both so good, I had to put them on the list.

City of Thieves photo

In  City of Thieves , “A writer visits his retired, Jewish grandparents in Florida to document their experience during the infamous siege of Leningrad.  His grandmother won't talk about it, but his grandfather reluctantly consents.  The result is the captivating odyssey of two young men trying to survive against desperate odds.”

The Help photo

The Help  is the story of “three ordinary women” who take “one extraordinary step” in 1962 Mississippi.  Stockett steps into the lives of three very different individuals, Skeeter a white, twenty-two-year old, single, college graduate; Aibileen a black maid who is raising her 17th white child, while her own go neglected; and Minny, Abileen’s best friend, another maid “who can’t mind her tongue” in front of the “white folks” and lands herself in lot’s of trouble.  “These women …come together for a clandestine project that will put them all at risk…Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.”

The Glass Castle: A Memoir photo

The Glass Castle: A Memoir  by Jeanette Walls - This is the story of Jeanette Walls who grew up in a “nonconformist,” “nomad” family with parents who preferred art and alcohol to a roof and food.  In the first page, the reader learns that Jeanette is now a successful New Yorker living on Park Avenue while her mom is a homeless person.  Jeanette spots rifling through the garbage from the windows of her limousine.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo photo

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo  by Stieg Larsson- I’m having trouble getting into this book, probably because there are lots of Swedish names and places and it gets confusing, but I’m determined to get through it.  This is the first in the award-winning crime novel trilogy, which became best-sellers only after the premature death of the author in 2004.

Little Bee photo

Little Bee  by Chris Cleave - My family frequently trades books and I just received Little Bee from my mom who loved it.  According to Amazon, this is the story of two women whose lives collide one fateful day as they each make decisions, which will haunt them for the rest of their lives.  The ending is supposed to be particularly powerful and unexpected.

Fly Away Home photo

Fly Away Home  by Jennifer Weiner - I recently got introduced to Jennifer Weiner.  I’m not a big chick lit fan, so in the past I shied away from her books, but I’m fully converted.  These books are a guilty pleasure— written about wonderful women, all of them Jewish, who are easy to relate to and root for.  Her next book, out this summer, is about a woman (who strongly resembles Silda Spitzer) who after decades of marriage learns that her politician husband is having an affair.

The Bedwetter photo

The Bedwetter  by Sarah Silverman - Now that the big news is out the bag that Sarah Silverman will be performing at this year’s YLD Big Event in the fall; I figured it’s a good time to read one of her books.  The Bedwetter is her most recent work and I’m hoping it brings the laughs.

My Fair Lazy photo

My Fair Lazy  by Jen Lancaster - Stef introduced me to local Chicagoan Jen Lancaster.  Her books are hysterical and terrifying all at the same time.  In fact, I’m afraid of running into her in the city and ending up in one of her books!  The Chicago Tribune describes Jen as, “bitchy and sometimes plain old mean but…absolutely hilarious.”  Also, her newest book contains several shutouts to another Oy!Chicago blogger.

The Red Queen photo

The Red Queen  by Philippa Gregory - Ok, so the Red Queen actually doesn’t come out until the Fall, but I love historical fiction and I love Phillippa Gregory and I’m counting down the days till I get my hands on this book.  If you read The Other Boleyn Girl (or saw the movie) than your familiar with Phillappa Gregory.  Gregory re-imagines the lives of female heroines who lived in England during the 15th and 16th centuries.  The Red Queen is the second in her news series about Elizabeth Woodville and the Plantagenet family.

Pride and Prejudice photo

Pride and Prejudice  by Jane Austen - This is my favorite book of all time and thus earns a spot on this list.  I’ve read Pride and Prejudice at least a dozen times and I plan to read it again this summer.  If you never read Pride and Prejudice in high school, then you sorely missed out.  It’s a timeless classic that belongs on any reading list.

Happy reading!

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I love the game “whatever happened to...”

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06/09/2010

Think about it. Whatever happened to...Chris Shelton? Whatever happened to...Bob Hamelin? ...Dana Barros? ...Austin Croshere?

I know all of those players are "one-hit wonders." But seriously, what happened to those guys? I think there is one person in particular that many Chicagoans wonder whatever happened to the most…that man is Jerry Krause.

Jerry Krause was responsible for putting together six championship Bulls teams before dismantling the dynasty. Many people blame Krause for Jordan's departure and the Bulls' failure to be a serious threat ever since. But give credit where credit is due. The man was a visionary when it comes to talent. Krause drafted Scottie Pippen, Wes Unseld, Earl Monroe, Jerry Sloan, and Elton Brand. He surrounded Michael Jordan with Horace Grant, B.J. Armstrong, and John Paxson. He later traded Will Perdue for Dennis Rodman. He knew talent.

But before Krause was picking Hall of Famers for the Bulls he was a baseball mind. He worked for the Chicago White Sox helping acquire Ozzie Guillen, Greg Walker, Kenny Williams, Ed Farmer, Greg Luzinski, and who could ever forget Tom Seaver.

Once Jordan left the Bulls they quickly began to crumble— wow Ron Mercer and Corey Benjamin did not live up to the hype. Krause left Chicago and found himself back in the baseball world. He began scouting, what he does best, for the Cleveland Indians, Oakland A's, Seattle Mariners, White Sox and the New York Yankees and Mets. But now Krause is back home in Chicago. The White Sox recently named Krause the Director of International Scouting. Krause will be in charge of restructuring the way the White Sox scout and head up recruitment in the Dominican Republic and Venezuela.

It is good to see Krause back home. Hopefully he can help bring five more White Sox rings to the city of Chicago.

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine
For more information on Jews in Sports check out  www.thegreatrabbino.com .

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A Tribute to Charlotte York Goldenblatt

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It took seven years, but finally she’s a Jew!  
06/08/2010

A Tribute to Charlotte York Goldenblatt photo 4

Putting aside the notion of writing a blog entry of real importance and meaning today, and while trying not to be too critical of Sex and the City 2 (which, I thought was a horrible movie), here are a few positive thoughts about my favorite of the four SATC women, the lovable, sweet, graceful, gorgeous, Charlotte York Goldenblatt.

As you might imagine, to seekers of Judaism, in particular young female conversion candidates, Charlotte is someone with whom many identify.  Her story of meeting Harry and converting to Judaism resonates, inspires and provides direction and comfort through unknown territory.  More times than I can count, I have heard statements from conversion candidates like: “Yeah, that’s just like when Charlotte was converting!” or “Hmmm… my last Christmas at home; just like Charlotte’s!” or “Wow, Rabbi Tachman, you are so nice and welcoming at this first meeting!  I came to Temple Sholom thinking my experience would be more like Charlotte’s!”

Charlotte: [meeting a rabbi for the first time] Hello, My name is Charlotte York and I am interested in joining the Jewish faith.
Rabbi: Sorry, we're not interested.  [closes the door in her face]

And like Charlotte, conversion candidates have sometimes wondered aloud why their significant other, who is so dead-set on marrying a Jew, doesn’t seem to take his own Judaism very seriously.

Harry: I'm not kosher, I'm Conservative.
Charlotte: I'm conservative, too!
Harry: Yeah, well, MY Conservative doesn't have anything to do with wearing pearls.

Harry, as you will remember, enjoys eating pork chops, and when Charlotte goes through the trouble of making him a fancy Shabbat dinner, he is more interested in the baseball game on TV,  to which she complains:

Charlotte: I gave up Christ for you.  You can't give up the Mets?

Also see here.

And, though Kashrut and Shabbat observance may not be Harry’s top priorities, he is a kind, caring, supportive, loving mensch, a person who believes in God, and is a character who represents us Jews well.

Charlotte: [hearing the front door open] Hi, honey.  I'm a bad wife.  I ordered Chinese.
Harry: I got something from China, too.  They're giving us a baby.
Charlotte: What?  How?
Harry: I guess God remembered our address.  We get her in six months... and here she is.  [hands Charlotte a photo of the baby]
Charlotte: [smiling through tears] That's our baby.  I know it.  That's really our baby!

With all this being said, I can’t help but reflect on Harry’s offhand comment at the wedding in Act One of SATC 2.  When Charlotte announces that she is going to look for a “nosh” Harry quips something like: “It took seven years, but finally she’s a Jew.”

I would argue that Charlotte always had a Jewish soul in her, and despite the very poor writing for this latest movie, Charlotte’s Judaism holds strong.

What makes Charlotte Jewish more than anything else, I believe, are her Jewish sensibilities which have been exhibited throughout the show.  Here are a few of my favorites:

1. Charlotte values the sanctity of marriage.  She is the only friend to chastise and shame Carrie regarding her adulterous affair with Mr. Big.

2. Charlotte, like my Bubbe, knows how to put a curse on someone:

Charlotte: [to Big in first movie after he leaves Carrie at the altar] I curse the day you were born!

I imagine one day Charlotte will use other, more colorful, Yiddish curses such as:

Vifil yor er iz gegangn oyf di fis zol er geyn af di hent un di iberike zol er zikh sharn oyf di hintn.
“As many years as he’s walked on his feet, let him walk on his hands, and for the rest of the time he should crawl along on his ass.”

3. Charlotte follows the directive from the Mishnah not to judge the quality of the wine inside of a flask based on what the flask looks like on the outside.  Although Charlotte is not initially attracted to Harry, she is won over by his good heart, his kindness toward her, and his obvious love of her.

4. Charlotte is very traditional and reverent:

Charlotte: [whispering to Samantha] Could you please not use the f-word in Vera Wang?

5. Charlotte, like Jews over the centuries, is always hopeful and optimistic despite overwhelming odds:

Charlotte: [when she has trouble conceiving] We're not barren, we're reproductively challenged!

6. Charlotte is familiar with Jewish humor and can joke like an old Jewish man:

Samantha: Tell me why we're going to this again?
Carrie: She's an old friend going through a breakup.  We're being supportive.
Samantha: On a Friday night?
Charlotte: She tried to kill herself!
Miranda: It was six Advil!
Charlotte: On an empty stomach!

7. In SATC 2—like Rebecca of the Bible—Charlotte falls off a camel.  Of course Charlotte doesn’t know how to ride a camel because she wasn’t Jewish in time to qualify for a Birthright trip.  I think there is another connection between Charlotte and the name “Rebecca,” but let’s not go there.

8. Charlotte learns, perhaps from the Torah, but also from her own experiences that one should not interpret events as omens:

Deuteronomy 18:10-14 “…don't let your people practice divination or look for omens…”  After her failed marriage with Trey that began when she interpreted a chance meeting as an omen, she warns Carrie in the second movie not to do the same:

Carrie: We [her and Aiden] bumped into each other halfway across the world—it means something.
Charlotte: I think you are playing with fire.

9. Charlotte, like many Jews, is good at worrying:

Carrie: What makes you think something bad is gonna happen?
Charlotte: Because!  Nobody gets everything they want!  Look at you, look at Miranda.  You're good people and you two both got shafted.  I'm so happy and... something bad is going to happen.
Carrie: Sweetie, you shit your pants this year.  I think you're done.

10. Charlotte, despite having endured many hardships, including a tireless search for her knight in shining armor, a failed marriage, trouble conceiving, and later feeling overwhelmed with motherhood, is full of gratitude and love of her family and husband:

Samantha: Relationships aren't just about being happy.  I mean, how often are you happy in your relationship?
Charlotte: Every day.
Samantha: Every day?
Charlotte: Well, not all day every day but yes, every day.

Well, here’s to you Charlotte York Goldenblatt.  L’chaim!  May you and Harry, Lily and Rose know peace, kindness and goodness.  May you continue to inspire and guide potential Jews by Choice throughout the world.  And may you and your three friends be blessed with a much better script and story when SATC 3 one day arrives on the Silver Screen.

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Top seven perks of being a working mommy

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06/07/2010

Top seven perks of being a working mommy photo

Sometimes, we working moms could use a little reminder of some of the less obvious perks for working “outside the home.”  Because no matter why we work (e.g., couldn’t pay the bills otherwise), how certain we are about our choices, or how happy we are with our lives, there are days when being a working mom can be rough.

There might be days when you’ve had a really bad day at the office and are questioning why you work at all, or are so exhausted from your schedule that you fell asleep on the train and missed your stop (again).  And let’s not mention the days when your child sobs when your nanny leaves more than when you did in the morning, or has undertaken a “first” and you missed the moment.

So in the spirit of my fellow Oy!sters who have brought to you the many perks of being a Jewish professional (here and here), I give you the top seven perks of being a working mommy:

1. When your child’s menu yesterday included corn, chances are the “outcome” in your child’s diaper will be dealt with by someone other than you.  I confess, there are certain foods that I will only serve at dinner, knowing that when the “rubber meets the road” the next morning, I will be nowhere in sight.  (My nanny, a smart woman, has figured this out and keeps hiding the corn.)  Will I someday regret missing some of my child’s firsts—new sounds, first attempts, etc.?  Absolutely.  But I will never regret missing some of those—and I quote my nanny here—“big big BIG poo poo” diapers.

2. When someone asks you to do something you don’t want to, saying “I’m sorry—I can’t as I have [insert work excuse here] this week” sounds much better than “I’m sorry, but I’d rather gnaw off my right arm than [insert task here].”  I really do wish I had more time to volunteer, but when most activities require my presence during the day or more time than I can realistically give, it’s not going to happen.  To all the stay-at-home parents out there—you have my deepest gratitude for the countless hours you have devoted to the school and a myriad of kids’ activities.  Bless you.

3. You not only have a reason, but a real need, to shower and wear something other than sweat pants every day.  Sure, this can be a problem on the days when your wardrobe choice is either a pair of pre-partum pants that are still too tight, or a skirt—and you haven’t had enough time in the morning for the past 2 weeks to shave your legs.  But it doesn’t stink as much as when you haven’t showered at all for two weeks and your husband suspects that taking out the dirty diapers won’t solve the odor problem in the house.

4. You get a lunch hour.  In theory, you have one whole hour to do with as you please each day.  You can use this valuable time to run errands, get a haircut, or even—dare I suggest—catch up with what is going on in the world.  This is precious, precious time.

5. You have a captive audience to tell stories about your child to, and who will usually listen politely for a few minutes.  When your genius child has done something amazing on Saturday, chances are you have run out of friends, family and Facebook pals to tell by Sunday.  But come Monday, you have a whole new crop of victims to bore.  And as a bonus, if you work in a sizable office, chances are you have valuable network of experienced parents who are willing to impart some of their parental wisdom to you.

6. You get to see the sheer joy and excitement on your child’s face when you get home.  Nothing—and I mean NOTHING—beats that thrill of seeing your child light up when you walk into the room after a long day.  It completely redefines “Happy Hour.”

7. You get to hear your first name throughout the day, and it’s not from a sarcastic teenager.  From what I’ve heard from my friends, a sense of loss of ‘individual identity’ can be one of the hardest parts about staying at home.  My daughter is the center of my universe, and I love spending as much time with her as I can.  I treasure every single minute on the weekends and my days off.  But I also know myself well enough to know that I wouldn’t be happy if my identity was wrapped up in her.  In the office, I get the opportunity every day not just to be “Lindsay’s Mom” or “Mrs. Stoller,” but me.  (And they are actually willing to pay for that.  Go figure.)

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Finding faith: Where I fit into America’s changing religious landscape

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06/04/2010

Finding faith photo 3

For many people, religion is something you’re born into. You are brought to Sunday School, maybe to youth group, and from there you either stick with it or diverge. But if you’ve gone religion shopping, you’re not alone. A study recently released by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life found that 44 percent of American adults have switched religious affiliations at some point. I am now in the process of becoming one of them—but that wasn’t until I got to NU.

Thanks to my parents, I had been pretty much doomed from the start. My mother was raised Lutheran and had since rebelled against organized religion, and my father, a bona fide, bar-mitzvah’d Jew, hadn’t had time for Yahweh in years. So when my brother and I came along, they scrambled to find us a religious home. My mom found what she thought was the perfect compromise: Unitarian Universalism. Absent any concrete creed and with an emphasis on individual beliefs and human rights, it seemed just wishy-washy enough to fit us. Plus the flax-munching, Birkenstock-wearing stereotype fit my family’s neo-hippie vibe pretty well.

But when the First Communion wave hit and my girlfriends hit their first religious milestone, I envied their dresses as well as the formality. By the time confirmation and the bar mitzvah scene rolled around, I had had enough of the laid-back environment and wanted some pomp and circumstance. After pleading with my youth group advisor for some kind of ritual I could invite my friends to, he let us go through a “coming of age” ceremony. I was pumped, until we all walked in, sat down cross-legged on pillows and began writing stream-of-consciousness essays.

It wasn’t that I minded Unitarian Universalism; I loved the people, the intellectualism and the freedom. But it never felt like a real religion to me. Growing up unable to define myself by my faith left me craving the heritage and identity that comes with being a part of an established community. It was always the most starkly apparent difference; from the charm necklaces I didn’t get to the holidays and services I didn’t have. I never felt culturally connected, I had no ancestors or traditions to respect and learn from — hell, I didn’t even know how to pray.

The only taste of traditional religion I had were Jewish holidays with my dad’s family. Everything about it warmed me: the big family coming together, the long, rich history, and the constant reminders of how far we had come and how united we were as a community. When we read prayers in Hebrew, I felt like I was doing something more real, more meaningful. I remember looking ahead at the English translations so I could understand the Hebrew I was to recite. There were rituals, customs, traditions and most of all a distinctive culture I wanted to be a part of. I began to realize how at home I felt.

Having the freedom to find my own beliefs let me figure out exactly what I wanted from religion: a structured doctrine, something to turn to for support, and with a clear outlined belief set I agreed with. I researched Judaism more deeply, and talked to Jewish relatives and friends about what their faiths meant to them. The more I heard people talking about their deep love and commitment to the tenets and the ideals of Judaism, the more I began to think it was for me.

During my senior year I started reading the Torah, expecting, at the very least, to take it for its metaphorical value. I was so comforted and invigorated by the philosophies it expressed. The teachings, the stories, the ideas about valuing family, tradition and your Jewish identity—I now understood why so many people had died to protect it. Later that year I visited the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., and for the first time I felt truly connected to my heritage. I had never felt so spiritually alive as I did that day. As devastating as the content was, I left feeling so hopeful and proud to think I could count myself as a member of such a strong lineage.

Realizing that I had found a religious home was one of the happiest moments I’ve had. I studied the faith deeply over the summer, but had no opportunities to attend services, since my parents didn’t go and there weren’t any synagogues nearby. So heading into freshman year at NU, I nervously signed up for Hillel’s Freshman Fest. It was a great experience and an amazing start to my new identities—a college student and a converting Jewish adult. Although I was terrified I wasn’t “Jewish enough” and wouldn’t fit in, the Mel Brooks- and Jackie Mason-centric upbringing my dad had enforced got me through it.

Since coming to NU, I’ve met with rabbis from both Hillel and Chabad, and have continued to study on my own and occasionally attend reform services. At a time when most students’ religions are so worn to them that they’re already wearing off, I’m still just starting to fall in love with mine. And I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

This post first appeared in  North by Northwestern  on March 4, 2008.

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Adventures with autocomplete

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06/03/2010

Adventures with autocomplete photo

Autocomplete is a feature of search engines and other programs that guesses what you are searching for after you type in the first couple of letters. The guesses are based on the frequency of the searches among all users of the search engine. Used in reverse, one can see what the frequency is of search terms.

For instance, when they look up the word “Jew” or “Jewish” on Google, what are most people looking for?

JEW
Before I even typed a space, Autocomplete started guessing at what I wanted to search for. It suggested “jewelry” and “Jewel,” the grocery store.

The Jewish-related searches were for “Jewish holidays 2010” and “Jew jokes.” It might be safe to assume that mostly Jews are looking up when the Jewish holidays are. Well, I suppose HR departments and people who schedule conferences might need to know this information, too; with the year as one of the keywords, it seems clear they are looking up only when the holiday is, not what it celebrates.

As for “Jew jokes,” Jews certainly look up Jewish jokes. My dad is a big fan of the site Old Jews Telling Jokes, for instance. But really, Jews would look up “Jewish jokes,” no? I’m thinking anyone who looks up “Jew jokes” wants to laugh at Jews, not with us.

JEW (followed by a space)
First, again, the searches that turn out to have nothing to do with Jews. There is a fish called a “jewfish”; its native Australian name is the “dhu” fish, and people heard this as “Jew.” I could see why people would look that up, like they would, say, “Norman Jewison” or “Jerusalem artichokes.” (That film director is not Jewish; that plant is from New England.)

As for “Jew town Chicago”… I must say, I have lived and worked in Chicago’s Jewish community since 1994 and have never heard this expression. Chinatown, Little Italy, and Ukrainian Village, yes; Jewtown, no. Anyone know the way to… Jewtown? Should we look for a place with lots of people with a “Jewfro” hairstyle?

Again, “Jew jokes” is popular search. And I was surprised but not shocked to find JewTube, a parallel to YouTube. Speaking of Jewish jokes and videos, “Jew eat yet,” is a popular search. This is a line from Annie Hall, showing how Woody Allen’s character is overly sensitive to anti-Semitism, almost willfully mishearing the innocent question “Did you eat yet?”

Turns out, Woody might really have something there. Many Jews look up celebrities to see if they are Jewish, so the search “Jew or not Jew” is not necessarily troubling. But Jew Watch is. This is a virulently anti-Semitic website that catalogs the names of Jews of achievement in order to prove we are working together to take over the world or something. Hey, Jew Watch: If we Jews have been around for 4,000 years and haven’t taken over the world yet, you guys can probably let your guard down. Sadly, another popular search is for the Nazi propaganda film Jew Suss.

JEWS
The not-about-Jews entry this time is the “Jews harp,” a small, twangy instrument that somewhat resembles a Biblical harp; the name may also be a mispronunciation of “Jaw harp” as that is where you put it to play it.

Two of the Autocomplete findings are “Jews for Jesus” and “Jews killed Jesus,” so there you go. Perhaps someday, these people will realize that we Jews are, to borrow a phrase, just “not that into” Jesus, either way. An organization called Jews for Judaism, which helps deprogram Jews taken in by cults and missionaries, is also a popular search, thank goodness. But then that’s balanced, too, with the search “Jews against Zionism.”

Three of the findings are for “Jews in.” Specifically, “Jews in Hollywood,” “Jews in America,” and “Jews in Holocaust.” Just in case that last one was not clear enough, another popular search is “Jews killed in Holocaust.”

JEWISH
“Jokes,” again. And “holidays” again, but this time also “calendar.” That’s kind of nice— people wanting the whole calendar to really plan their year of upcoming Jewish days. And then people are looking up “Jewish religion,” which is fine. If people have questions, at least they are bothering to look up the answers.

One of the Top 10 most popular searches Autocomplete finds with “Jewish” is “Jewish United Fund,” which is very nice to see, as I work here. Another is Jewish Vocational Service, and while it is likely so popular because is it so necessary at the moment, we’re all grateful it’s there since it is needed so much.

JUDAISM
“Holidays,” yet again. Well, we do have a lot of them, and they don’t all fall on Mondays.

Also popular with this word are the keywords “beliefs,”  “facts,” and “symbols.” There are popular searches for both “Judaism history” and “Judaism today,” and even “Judaism afterlife.”

And “Judaism founder.” Um, that’s Abraham. This was a question?

“Judaism vs. Christianity” is here, too. Anyway, all perfectly welcome searches; let people find out, if they are curious.

All of these matters, as it happens, are addressed by Judaism 101, a wonderful— and quite comprehensive— intro-to-Judaism website.

JEWRY
Autocomplete again assumes I meant “jewelry.” But “Jewry” is a word. I’m not going to make you look it up, as the Wiktionary definition— itself a popular search— is short: “Jews in general; the Jewish population of a locale.”

Then Autocomplete found “Jewry church.” OK, I’ll bite… turns out there is a St Lawrence Jewry, which is not just any church but “the official Church of the Lord Mayor of London and of the City of London Corporation.” Why is it called that, you may ask? “St. Lawrence was first built in 1136 in the east end of London in the old Jewish quarter.”

CONCLUSIONS
What does the Jewish world look like, through the looking glass of Google? Why, it’s full of jokes and holidays!

Also, there is a desire to know what names are Jewish, and which people of power and popularity are Jewish— both to kvell in their achievements and to “watch” them (Yes, we must make sure that Steven Spielberg and Barbra Streisand don’t… take over the world.)

There is an ongoing concern over the relationship of Jews to Jesus; the idea that Judaism exists solely in opposition to other faiths is untrue and unfortunate… but understandable, given our perpetual minority-population status.

The other thing that struck me is the disconnect in the searches for “Jew” and “Jews”— as in people— versus “Judaism,” a religion in the abstract. The searches for Judaism were rather substantive, asking after “history” and “facts”… while the searches for “Jew” were somewhat frivolous (“Jewfro”?). But, in case anyone was wondering— yes, we do more between our “holidays” than sit around and tell “jokes.”

We look up more jokes online.

For more fun with Autocomplete, check out  Autocomplete Me , the site that inspired this trip into the mind of the Web and its users.

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Top seven perks of being a non-Jewish Jewish professional

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06/02/2010

Want to know something about me? I’m not Jewish. I’m the only goy on Oy! I’ve had several different jobs since moving to Chicago three years ago and the majority of those jobs have been Jewishly involved somehow—I assisted a photographer who mainly shot bar/bat mitzvahs and Jewish families’ portraits, I worked briefly at a JCC and now here I am working for JUF News. Something about the Jewish people is continually drawing me back in.

I was inspired by Rachel’s post about being a Jewish professional, so I thought I’d give my own list of the perks of being a non-Jewish Jewish professional:

1. There are so many holidays! What do they all signify? Why do I get four days off for Succoth? I have no idea, but I’ll take any paid vacation I can get. Plus we get out early every Friday.

2. I reap the benefits of said holidays when everyone brings in leftovers the next day.

3. Because I’d much rather be forever in blue jeans. What does Neil Diamond do when he has extra tickets to his shows? He gives those extra tickets to JUF. I got 9 free tickets to the best concert of my life.

4. It’s ok that my blog posts don’t discuss religion, except of course when I became Reverend Lindsey Bissett.

5. Kosher tacos and kosher potato chips. Delicious. Enough said.

6. I met Frankie Valli at a JUF event. Booya.

7. If ever I’m having a terrible day and can’t see the fun in sitting inside when it’s beautiful out, I know that ultimately I’m doing good and helping others in the world. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

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Just one bite

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06/01/2010

I grew up in a very adventurous household. I did not know it at the time, but we were really different from other families. I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and from all outward appearances we were probably very typical. My father was a pretty average suburban dad with one eccentricity—he liked to travel the world with food. He was an incredibly adventurous foodie, way ahead of his time. Today I watch Andrew Zimmern eat bugs, worms and dumplings with strange unidentifiable fillings on the Travel Channel and I realize that stuff is old hat for me and my brothers. I was doing that when I was a kid decades ago. You see, not only did my dad like to explore the world with strange comestibles, but he took my brothers and me with him.

Whether we were home or traveling, Dad was out looking for something unusual. No ordinary suburban chop suey hole in the wall would do. My father schlepped us in the station wagon to China Town to some off the beaten path restaurant where he would insist on ordering what the Chinese ordered. The Imperial Banquet was not for us—we got the authentic food, the secret menu that never actually appears in the dining room type stuff. My father would announce, “now, this is a true Chinese food just like the Chinese eat.” My brothers and I would suspiciously eye the unfamiliar items on our plates and I used to wonder why we couldn’t be normal and just go to McDonalds like everybody else I knew. The rule was you had to try it—at least one bite. There was no sense arguing. It would not have gotten us anywhere. Once the food was on the plate, we were committed to one bite.

When I was a teenager, I realized that while my friends were having the “San Francisco treat” for their adventurous dining thrill, I was all but force fed escargot, eel that had been dispatched moments ago, rattlesnake, kangaroo, turtle, bear and all manner of slimy creepy crawlies. I had traveled the world by the time I could drive, at least one bite from everywhere.

Recently, I was surprised when one of my kitchen staff was nervous to try sweetbreads (veal thymus gland). He had gone to culinary school, his resume said that he wanted to be a chef and he certainly seemed enthusiastic about working in a kosher kitchen. But my goodness, the hesitation went on forever. Just try it! Pop it in your mouth! Why so nervous to try something new?

This is not the first time I have seen adults afraid to try something new. I was, and still am, surprised when people don’t take the chance to rouse and challenge your taste buds presents itself—why not? 

Most of us go about our work days in a fairly routine manner. We probably are not that exciting at home either, so when you can add a little moment of zest or culinary thrill to your day—carpe diem guys! 

I guess I am a lot like my father—at least in terms of how I approach food. All those years of “just trying a bite” really made an impact on me. I have chosen to make culinary thrills my career. I cannot wait for the next new thing and I am all over experimenting with flavor combinations. I love fusion foods and often congratulate myself when I correctly identify the next big thing.

I keep kosher now and it is slim pickins when it comes to new tongue titillating goodies. I have to look for ways to combine flavors and textures. But, boy am I out there looking! After a long day in the kitchen at work I can frequently be found in my home kitchen trying new recipes. I cannot get enough new flavor, aroma and texture.

I have spent a lot of time thinking about this and have come up with a few reasons why folks are afraid to try something new.

1. Folks are used to certain flavors and while they may be experimental in everything else in life, they do not want to risk what they view as a potentially unpleasant taste.

2. People get in a comfort zone and have to be taken by the hand to venture out. But, usually once they get out of the zone, they are happy!

3. People don’t want to have to think about what they are eating, but new and exciting flavors force you to pay attention. Folks want to satisfy a physical need, not ponder their dinner. (I typically do not like these people!)
There are probably several other reasons, but I think I hit the major list. If you are someone who falls back on one or more of the reasons listed above, I urge you to do what my father always said and “just try a bite” of something new and different.

Cardamom Dusted Lamb Chops with Vanilla-Bean Red Wine Sauce

While lamb chops are not really all that “out of the box” for many people, perhaps a recipe with flavors typically used in pastry recipes will up the ante? Or, cooking lamb may be a new thrill for some home cooks and that is as exciting as just trying a bite. For adventuresome foodies, just the name of the recipe will quicken the pulse. For newbies, trust me. Cardamom and vanilla are BFF’s and the lamb is the perfect vehicle.

Serves 2 as an entrée or 4 as a tapas portion

For the lamb

1 rib lamb rack, fat cut off (ask your butcher to “French” the rack)
olive oil
1 tablespoon of freshly ground cardamom seeds
Salt and pepper

For the sauce

olive oil
1 shallot, minced
1 clove of garlic, minced
1 bottle of fruity red wine (I like Pinot Noir)
1 vanilla bean, scraped-reserve the pod
1 bouquet garni of: parsley stems, thyme sprigs and fresh bay leaf
2 cups chicken stock
Salt and pepper

1. In a small sauce pan over medium heat and lightly coated with olive oil, sweat the shallot and garlic until they are translucent (about 5 minutes). Add the wine, scraped vanilla bean and pod and bouquet garni. Simmer over low heat until the mixture has reduced by 2/3.

2. Strain out the solids with a mesh strainer being careful to press in the solids to extract all the liquid. Return the strained wine to the saucepan, add the chicken stock and reduce the sauce by ½ or until the sauce lightly coats the back of a wooden spoon. Adjust season with salt and pepper.

Preheat oven to 350.

3. Place a medium sauté pan over medium high heat or heat a grill to medium high.

4. Rub the lamb rack with olive oil. Dust with ground cardamom and season with salt and pepper.

5. Place the lamb in the sauté pan and brown on all sides.

6. Before serving, place the browned lamb rack in the preheated oven and roast for 7 minutes for medium rare or if grilling, lower the heat to medium and grill for 5-8 minutes for medium rare. Allow to rest for 10 minutes before cutting the rack into individual chops.

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Cheers! Chicago: Can you possibly meet “The Right One” at a bar?

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05/28/2010

Cheers! Chicago: Can you possibly meet photo

Well, can you? It’s a fair question, isn’t it? A bar seems like a practical place to meet someone, right? If we’re not there to blow off steam from the stresses of work or to hang out with friends, we’re probably there because we feel a little, well, lonely. And where better to have a beverage and socialize than the local pub? In fact, the word “pub” is taken from the phrase “public house,” which in reality operated more like a motel with a diner and bar. These types of social gathering structures have been traced all the way back to the Roman taverns and baths, and these days we have more leisure time as a society then ever before. As a people, we Jews embrace drinking as a function of prayer and thankfulness, not reckless intoxication or stress pacification. If you really think about it, since it’s a part of each Shabbat and many holidays, the Jewish people have been drinking together as a community for a long time. We are a merry people and are not afraid to show it!

But let’s get back to whether or not the bar can be a genuine place to find love for single Jews. Working as a single Jewish bartender in one of the hottest cities in the country, I have seen my share of successes and failures regarding the male-female interaction. Everything from buying drinks for the hottie at the end of the bar to watching guys write little cheesy love notes on the back of a cocktail napkin. I have heard lots of lines that would make your sides hurt and seen lots of obscene and rather intriguing behavior. I have even had the pleasure of watching two very drunk guys attempt to out-macho the other one and duke it out at the bar, trying to buy a drink for a hot brunette in a little pink number that just straddled the bar stool. Now I’ll admit it, I may be a very observant person by nature, sometimes just too observant for my own good. However, I am NO dating doctor or expert body language reader; having said that, I’ve tried nearly everything when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex myself. Blind dates, online dates, speed dates, “casually bumping” into old flames (shameful, I know), all the way down to just striking up a conversation with a cute stranger at a bar. Which one of those scenarios do you think is the easiest or has the best chance of success?

I can definitely tell you things look quite different from behind the sticks, where you are in a position to make drinks, hear and see everything that might take place, and manage the crowd, all while sober. Hey, we’re all there to have a good time, right? So why not be open to meet and have fun with some new people? Sure, it can be awkward to meander nervously toward a beautiful group of women by the bar and try to explain how un-creepy but interesting and fun you really are. Yes, it’s true: alcohol does lower the inhibitions, but I’m talking about the right one and not a one-night stand. Now, I am sure there are some of you thinking that it’s possible to turn a one-night stand into something serious, and you’re probably right. But the likelihood of that occurring for every guy or girl is ridiculously slim, which leaves most of us single people to go out without any expectations other than having a great time.

But my question to you is this: do Jewish singles act or treat the dating world differently than the rest when they go to bars, or are they like everyone else, just looking for a good time? Is it easier or harder for Jewish singles to meet in these settings? How do these chances compare to meeting singles at temple, bar and bat mitzvahs, weddings and holiday celebrations? I bet you if I polled 100 single Jews here in Chicago, most of them would not expect to meet “the right one” at the bar, but would reserve some judgment over whether or not it could work out should they meet someone they like. What are your thoughts?

Have you ever tried to pick up your local bartender? On the lighter side, I went to jewishjournal.com and found a blog by Merissa Nathan Gerson, host of AskYourYenta.com, titled “Are All Bartenders Perpetual Boys?” Her answer to a non-Jew’s question regarding dating bartenders and the bar scene as a function of social interaction is quite insightful. It even concludes with rays of hope for single Jewish bartenders, like me, by mentioning how even bartenders are prone to finding “the right one,” too! So go out to the bars, grab a drink and have some fun! Who knows what might be waiting for you there…

L’Chaim!

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You are what you eat

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An interview with nutritionist Lara Field
05/27/2010

You are what you eat photo

As a personal trainer, I get asked nutritional questions all the time. The thing is, I’m not a nutritionist—I’m just a really opinionated personal trainer. I do, however, have several nutritionist friends, so I went to one with an expertise in celiac disease to learn about allergies, organic food, and of course weight loss tips.

Meet Lara Field:
FEED is a privately owned pediatric nutrition counseling business founded in 2008 by registered dietitian Lara Field, MS, RD, LDN.

Lara has always had a passion for kids' nutrition. With over seven years experience in clinical practice at two of the top ranked pediatric hospitals in the country, Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago and University of Chicago Medical Center, Lara has been invited to speak at national nutrition and medical conferences including the American Society of Parenteral and Enteral Nutrition and the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America.  She has been quoted in publications on her perspective on infant feeding practices.

As an advisory board and executive committee member of the University of Chicago Celiac Disease Center, Lara always has been active in the celiac disease community. She frequently educates patients, family members, and nutrition professionals on the gluten-free diet.

Lara currently lives in Chicago with her husband, Tom, and their son, Tyler, who was born April 2008.  In her free time, Lara enjoys exercising and has completed three marathons, the2006 and 2009 Chicago Marathon and the 2007 Boston Marathon. She loves cooking and testing new recipes, and especially enjoys preparing foods for Tyler.

Ron Krit: Let’s start with food allergies. What are common food allergies and diseases?
Lara Field: Peanut, milk, soy, tree nut, wheat, eggs, fish and shellfish are the most common food allergies. Celiac disease [is another common allergy]. One in 133 people has this allergy of wheat, rye, and barley—10 times more common then diabetes. A new emerging disease is Eosinophilic Esophagitis, an allergic condition of the esophagus. Symptoms may include choking, or gagging on food, similar to reflux. Doctors first have you eliminate the common food allergies and then slowly re-introduce the foods.

Why are so many children so allergic to peanuts?
There is no concrete answer. Some call it the “hygiene hypothesis”— our desire to use anti-bacterial soaps and sanitizers are taking the healthy bacteria out of our bodies.

Organic foods are a huge market do we need to buy them to be healthier?
Pesticides are not good for you to ingest. With that said, not all food needs to be organic. Many people recommend foods with edible skin should be bought organic, such as apples, pears, strawberries, blueberries, and peaches. I buy organic whenever I can.

What about organic meat?
Probably a good idea, too—less hormones to put in our bodies. Long-term research is not available to determine how these hormones will affect us.

As a nutritionist, what are your tips for weight loss?
• Portion control and exercise, simple but true. You need both to be successful.
• Eat more veggies—they fill you up, they are nutritionally dense, and add more fiber [to your diet] to aid with digestion, and blood sugar control.
• More calcium in the form of low-fat dairy.
• Eat more whole grains. Read food labels and look for whole grain oats, whole wheat flour and fiber.
• Fiber is very important. It keeps us full and helps move food through our system.

What about supplements?
Mega-dosing is not necessary. Hopefully people are eating foods that contain nutrients and minerals. Taking a vitamin that contains greater than 100% of the Daily Value can be detrimental—you do not want to overdose, even on vitamins. Find a supplement that contains less than 100% of the Daily Value of most vitamins and minerals.

As a trainer people always ask me about the Atkins diet. What do you think of this all meat diet?
It’s not a long-term weight loss plan. It is not realistic to eat that quantity of meat without complex carbohydrates for life. Whole grains help with brain function, blood sugar control and general digestion. Eating a variety of foods is the best suggestion.

What’s your cheat food?
Sweet Mandy B’s! I like desserts. My trick, I just don’t buy them. I try not to bring sweet treats in my house.  Save these for special occasions such as holidays or birthdays. If you don’t keep it in your house it’s easier to avoid.
 
If you would like to learn more about Lara or to contact her, check out her  website . 

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An Ode to Facebook

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05/26/2010

Someone I know used to say whenever her phone rang, "Who could it be? All my friends are here!" That's how I feel when I receive a new friend request on Facebook. Facebook has changed my life. When I go to my list of friends, I feel surrounded by my life— past and present. I resisted joining for many years. When friends told me—  I would love it, had to get on it, and that everyone's doing it— I felt like I was being peer pressured into some kind of strange cyber-cult society. I claimed computer ineptitude. I said I was too old. I said I didn't have time. The truth was, I really didn't understand it. So one day, I don't remember why, after tons of nudging, I did it. I joined the wacky family of Facebook.

Things started slowly. But I was so honored to be found. The poor folks who found me in the beginning would write deep thoughts such as, "Hi! How are you? :)" And I would respond with paragraphs chronicling my life from birth up until that moment they wrote on my wall. Then folks just started coming out of the woodwork. The popular kid with the foot high Afro from grade school. People from my beloved YMCA swim team. Old roommates. Ex boyfriends. Old crushes. People who remembered me from a terrible sunburn I got on an 8th grade school trip to Florida. Boys I played spin the bottle with. Beloved neighborhood friends that moved away when I was too young to know how to stay in touch. Kids I had mentored as teens who were now married—  with kids! I started obsessing before bed about who I was going to "discover" the next morning. Occasionally I would slip out of bed in the middle of the night to see who I could find. And more importantly, to see who had found me.

In the beginning, it was all kinds of fun, but it was driving my husband absolutely mad. He has said, on more than one occasion, that he is a Facebook widower. I think the worst part for him used to be the nights when I was so wound up by a "finding" that I would wax on and on about so-and-so who I had never mentioned in all the years of our married life together, but now we just HAD to have them over for dinner. I loved the memories that came pouring out of something so simple as seeing an old photo posted of me wearing a "Jungle Fever" t-shirt with bad hair and unkempt eyebrows. Ah. Those were the days!

When I was in college, I had many good friends. But there were two women who were my "besties." I lived in the Midwest and they both lived on the East Coast. I graduated before both of them, but we visited, called, and wrote to one another often. I started dating my husband and as time went on,  my two girlfriends and I grew apart. But still, I loved them and wanted to honor our friendship by having them stand up in my wedding. At the last minute, they canceled. More than 11 years went by without my speaking to them. It haunted me. I had come up with many theories and explanations. I had come up with the "If I ever see them again, this is what I'm going to say" speech. And then, two years ago, I saw I had a friend request.

There, silently, sat a picture of my old friend, now in L.A., requesting I accept her friendship. I did. Breathlessly. Right after that, I looked up my other beloved friend and saw that her current city was none other than Chicago, IL. I sent her a message and a friendship request. She and I met for a tearful lunch where I met her beautiful son and we made amends. Not that long after, I flew out to L.A. for a tearful dinner, my first martini ever, and an explanation that helped to heal an old, deep wound.

My college reunion is coming up. There is no way I would have ever even remotely considered attending if not for these two Facebook connections. You'd think after marriage, two dogs, and four kids that the heart gets tougher. You don't give the old hurts a second thought. You don't look back. And maybe, for some, that's true. But for me, Facebook has given me the opportunity to both look backwards and surge forward. And for that, I am very grateful.

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How much for that dog in my browser window?

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05/25/2010

How much for that dog photo

I have a problem with my new apartment. Namely, the possibility that I could have a dog there.

I am a dog person. I wanted a dog pretty much from the time I started talking. When I was 7 we finally, finally got a basset hound named Nora, who proceeded to slobber, cuddle, steal food and snore her way into our hearts for the next fourteen years. Losing her was awful, and we waited almost two years before bringing another dog into our family. Gus is now a 75-pound lovebug who bowls me over every time I go back to Ohio. I miss him terribly when I’m away; I’ve got two pictures of him on my desk at work, and every time I call home I’m regaled with the latest cute, ridiculous, aggravating thing he’s done.

Now, I am in love with my apartment. The windows are incredible, the neighborhood is quiet and tree-lined, the dishwasher is brand new and I’m itching to paint the walls. It is also, however, a third-floor walk-up with no elevator. Great news for my daily workout; less so, I’d assumed, for a heavyset creature with four-inch legs. Nora followed me everywhere up and down our three-story house when I was growing up, and Gus loves stairs too. (The sight of a basset hound coming down steps from below is a hoot, let me tell you.) However, basset hounds have short legs and long backs. I’ve read in some basset rescue websites that lots of climbing can be bad for the dog’s long-term health, and that rescue societies or shelters (both of which I strongly support as options for getting a pet) may not place a dog in a home like that.

There’s good news and bad news coming up. The good news is that Gus’s breeder keeps in close contact with everyone who owns one of her puppies. We get news, photos of new litters and, since she shows dogs, all the latest from the ringside. It’s like my own breed-specific feed of Cute Overload. This week she sent out a notice saying she had two female puppies available. I know my limits. I can’t have an eight-week-old puppy right now, no matter how completely wonderful she is. But I did write back to the breeder for some clarification about the stairs issue. Just, you know, to have in my back pocket.

The bad news is that basset hounds are fine on apartment stairs. The worse news is that the breeder has a nine-month-old female who may become available in the near future.

I can’t have a dog now. I know how much work they require, and how much time I would lose. I like my free and open schedule right now, and I like my quiet, clean, brand new apartment, all of which a dog of any age would destroy. But I am and always will be, to my deepest foundations, a dog person. My heart does the equivalent of a full-body tail wag every time I see a dog. I am doomed to be a dog owner in a year or two.

First, however, I have to move quickly and respond to the breeder. She could send a photo at any moment. My resolve to hold out is strong, but possibly not that strong.

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Get your head in the game

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Why life coaching worked for me 
05/24/2010

Not long after I had moved back to Chicago, my boss approached me with an idea. Business was going well at the sales company where I worked at the time. We were the #1 division in the company for sales that year and he wanted to acknowledge the key role I had played as a part of the division staff by offering to pay for me to see a life coach. The idea was strange to me at first so initially I declined the offer. It sounded a little too trendy and too good to be true. He asked me to think about it though, and consider how it might impact my life if I had someone on the sidelines to coach me. All great athletes have great coaches to keep them improving at their game—why can’t we do the same to keep improving our own lives? 

A few months went by and I started reflecting on where I was at in my life. I was overweight by more than 100 pounds. I had thousands of dollars of debt from credit cards, bills, and taxes. I was single and lonely. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going in life. Though I had good friends, a good job, and success in some areas of my life, all this other baggage kept bringing me down. I would come home feeling empty at night, like something was missing. Eventually, I figured, it couldn’t make things worse to try life coaching—things could only get better. So at the end of 2004 I started seeing a life coach.

Five and a half years later, it has made all the difference. I have created positive changes in all areas of my life. I lost 100 pounds, paid off all the bad debt, found love, and created a career path that I am truly happy with. I don’t want you to think that I am never unhappy or afraid. I still face challenges on a daily basis. The difference is that before I felt trapped and stuck. Today I find peace and confidence knowing that I have the power and ability to face fear and continue moving forward.

So in case you might be looking for any or all of what I have gained over the last several years, I offer five of the most influential principles I have adopted:

1. Acknowledgement
Start by focusing on what went right or you did right. Keep a journal, start a blog, write in a notebook, or simply say a list out-loud. What would you say to a friend that needed extra support or his/her spirits lifted? Say THAT to yourself.

2. Gratitude
Practice saying thank you when others help you or offer a compliment. Try to do this without an excuse, explanation, or return compliment. Just graciously accept and enjoy the feeling. At the end of each day write down 5 things you are grateful for. If things are going that bad, you can start with gratitude for the pen and paper to write the list… you’ll find more things the more you do it.

3. Get Quiet; Get Clear; Visualize
Close your eyes and spend time with the vision of who you want to be and the world that you would like to attract. Notice how you feel and what you hear, see, and even smell. Record your vision in some way. You can write it down, tape record, or draw a picture. You may just start by describing your ideal week.

4. Put Yourself First
YOU are the most important and influential person in your life. You spend more time with YOU than anyone else. You know YOU better than any person. Without YOU, you do not exist. How would you value someone’s time that you respected and held in high regard? Try scheduling your time that way. Don’t be afraid to say no to others, if they demand too much of your time.

5. Accept Where You Are and Move Forward!
Imagine yourself in control of your current situation. Both the good and the bad are there because you decided it would be that way. Play with the idea that you are perfect and experiencing everything perfectly. That is to say, that you are getting exactly what you need out of life right now. It is hard to be a victim with this perspective. This idea will help you to move forward, past fear. It allows you to say “What’s the worse thing that could happen if I just do______? Well, I could live with that, so it’s worth moving forward from here.”

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Austria

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05/21/2010

Austria photo

Recently my family received our second payout from the Austrian government.

There, in the form of a check, and a nominal one at that, was the government’s way of making amends for allowing the Nazis to confiscate the property of its citizens.

We got the first installment back in August, at the same time my son was born.  I thought it quite appropriate to use the money to pay for a mohel for Benjamin’s bris.  What better way to stick it to the Nazis than to welcome a new Jewish baby into the world?

In thinking about meaningful ways to use the second check, I’ve plunged yet again into my lifelong connection with the Holocaust.  Despite being two generations removed, despite not having all the details about my grandfather’s story of survival, and despite not knowing for sure where my great-grandmother ended up (though we are pretty sure it was Auschwitz), the shadow of the Shoah has always been lurking through my life.

I have to imagine that my semi-obsession is not unique among children and grandchildren of survivors and, that being the case, whether our fervor to “never forget” hasn’t hampered our ability as a community to make peace and move on.  By constantly reliving the past, are we creating an even heavier burden for our children to carry?

My great-grandmother, who refused to leave the country with her husband and son, was forcefully removed from her home, taken to live in a ghetto and ultimately killed in a concentration camp.

Money from the Austrian government cannot ever make up for the fact that her son grew up without his mom, in a foreign country, all alone.  But money invested in her great-great-grandchild’s Jewish education will provide one more opportunity for my family to say “we’re still here.”

And, hopefully, one more opportunity for us to make peace and move on.

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Top seven perks of working to save the Jews

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05/18/2010

I am a professional Jew.  I mean a Jewish professional.  Or both.

I have spent the past three and a half years working for Jewish communal organizations that do incredible work to help members of the community locally and overseas.  And while this sort of work isn’t for everyone, it has been a natural fit for me.

People ask me – where did you go to school?  What was your major?  How did you end up working here?  Well I can’t tell you that my college choice (Ohio University, less than 1% Jewish) or my majors (Political Science and French…essentially irrelevant) had much to do with it.

Honestly, my mother did what Jewish mothers do best – nagged me about getting an internship when I was in school – and the rest was history.  One internship, a summer at the Jewish Community Federation of Cleveland’s Community Planning department, led to another, and before I knew it, four years later I’m still here.

My positions have evolved – from doing research and assisting with fundraising projects as an intern at the Cleveland Federation, to managing volunteer programs as an associate with the Jewish United Fund, to finally managing volunteers and outreach at The ARK.

Now as you can imagine, people don’t choose a career working for a nonprofit to make the big bucks.  Not at all – especially in this economy.  But for every challenge that comes with any position at any company, ideally there should be reasons why you enjoy what you do.  Here are a few of mine, in no particular order:

1)  Working at a Jewish communal organization means that you are surrounded by likeminded, mission-driven people who share your passion for advocating for and serving Jews in need.  When you’re having a long, crappy day and nothing seems to be going your way, you know that you’re not crunching numbers and working for The Man – you and your peers are working for the greater good of the community.  Yes – it’s cheesy, but 99% of the time, knowing that what you do makes a difference really does make you feel better.

2)  Jewish geography.  We’ve all played it.  Jewish communal professionals live it everyday.  Just as in the business environment, networking is critical, in the Jewish workplace, connecting with people is like building a rolodex full of “-steins,” “-bergs” and “-mans” who believe in your mission and want to spread the word.

3)  Everyone has been there on a Friday afternoon that is moving much too slowly – the minutes are barely ticking by as the weekend approaches.  Not me – out at 2:00 p.m. on Fridays for Shabbat!

4)  Being a twenty-something surrounded by Jewish mothers and grandmothers, it’s seriously comforting when you’re not feeling good to have a (dozen) surrogate mothers who want to feel your forehead, tell you where to find the best chicken soup and remind you to get a lot of rest.  And when the holidays roll around, you have a (dozen) resources for tried and true recipes for everything from the lightest matzo balls to the perfect Passover kugel.  For those who live hundreds of miles from home, this is a huge perk.

5)  Speaking of food, there is a ton of it.  Everywhere.  Because we are a communal people, no holiday, birthday, day that ends in “Y” can go by without some yummy leftovers or sweet treat turning up to be shared in the kitchen.  Great for the taste buds, bad for the waistline.  You decide.

6)  We have tons of days off to honor Avinu Malkeinu – our Father, our King, the Big Guy upstairs – whatever you want to call him.  When Yom Kippur falls on a weekday, I don’t have to think twice about being able to get away from the office to go to services.  The office is closed.  For many Oy!sters, you are not worrying about this beyond the High Holidays in the fall, but for those who observe the plethora of holidays that us Jews celebrate, this perk just keeps on giving.  Sukkot, Passover, Shavuot – Jewish communal professionals get all of these days off and more.

7)  I know so many people who haven’t stepped inside a synagogue since the 7th grade when bar mitzvah season ended.  Others find their only connection to Judaism in a trip to Mannys Deli.  While I love a good corned beef sandwich and am not a huge fan of going to shul instead of sleeping in on a Saturday, I think it’s important as you find yourself in your 20’s and 30’s to allow Judaism to play some part – big or small – in your personal growth.  For me, it’s work.  For others, like Erin, it’s connecting with a local congregation.  Maybe you want to volunteer or make a donation to a Jewish cause.  You decide.

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North v. South

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05/17/2010

"So, are you a Cubs or a Sox fan?"

"No comment," I quickly and jokingly replied during my interview at Temple Anshe Sholom of Olympia Fields, the largest synagogue of only a small handful in Chicago's south suburbs.

I moved back to Chicago in 2008 to be closer to my family, becoming the cantor at TAS, and a north suburbanite working in foreign territory! As a product of Buffalo Grove and the northwest suburban Jewish community, in the last year and a half, I have come to know the south suburbs much better than I ever would have predicted.

My parents actually grew up on Chicago's South Side in the South Shore and Jeffrey Manor neighborhoods. I learned from them that Jews from these communities typically either moved north to Skokie, Evanston, and later, they ended up on the North Shore or in the northwest suburbs. Or, they moved just a bit south, populating suburbs like Homewood and Flossmoor. The majority of our congregants at TAS live in the "H-F" community, which boasts a wonderful, highly-ranked school district, lovely country clubs with top-notch golf courses (in fact, the 2003 U.S. Open took place at the Olympia Fields Country Club just a minute away from the temple), and some of the best ice cream in the world at Mitchell's Ice Cream Parlor in Homewood. Others live just to the west, in newer developments in Frankfort and Mokena.

I came to find very quickly that our community, and the south suburban Jewish community in general, is very tightly-knit. It often feels as if everyone knows each other, and many of our families still have two or three generations living in the area. And, when a south suburbanite speaks of "the north," lest you think Wisconsin, Minnesota, or dare I say Canada... No, they are likely referring to Skokie, Northbrook, or Deerfield, and they aren't too afraid to go there—although they often comment that north suburban dwellers are challenged by even the thought of driving this far south. Well, I’ve done this drive many times. On a few occasions, I’ve even driven from Buffalo Grove to Olympia Fields and back, and with some good music on the radio, it really isn’t that far.  Plus, you start to feel like you really know the whole layout of the Chicagoland area.

These days, the south suburban Jewish community is unfortunately struggling quite a bit to survive. They are feeling even more the reality that it is not at the center of Chicago's Jewish community to the north. The economy is surely taking its toll on the area, as the demographics continue to shrink. The local JCC is amidst a continual fundraising effort to keep its doors open, and the synagogues, including TAS, are making extreme and drastic cuts to keep the community going. It is not always a pretty picture, but there are still so many dedicated to keeping this segment of the Jewish community intact and alive. It has been a pleasure getting to know this “other-end” of Chicago's Jewish community and I will surely miss it—but this summer I am very excited as I begin my next adventure in Orange County, California. I will become the cantor of Temple Beth Sholom of Santa Ana, California beginning in July.

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Memorializing sacrifice

 Permanent link
05/14/2010

Memorializing sacrifice photo 1

Photo credit: Susan Wexler, HIAS

Every May 9, my grandfather would put on his parade uniform from his WWII army days, pin his many medals onto the front of his jacket and take my sister and me to a gathering of his regiment. Every year, there would be fewer and fewer of the men and women with whom he risked his life in the fight against the Nazis.

My grandfather was among them. He had been a student and did not have to go fight but volunteered for an infantry unit shortly after June 22, 1941, when Germany invaded the Soviet Union. He was a participant in the critical defense of Moscow in the winter of 1942, when the war seemed all but lost and German forces were mere kilometers away from the city. Injured in 1943, he limped for the rest of his life.

Since 1945, May 9 has been celebrated as Victory Day in the countries of the former Soviet Union. It’s a solemn yet festive occasion that commemorates the struggles and the sacrifices of the wartime and celebrates the lives of those who fought and came back.

Memorializing sacrifice photo 2

Photo credit: Susan Wexler, HIAS

As a child, I would look in wonder at the city – all dressed up in colorful flags and lights, with posters and slogans hanging everywhere. It seemed as if the entire population of Moscow was out on the street, presenting flowers to the veterans and waiting for the parade and the fireworks that ended the day. The day’s lasting impact on me is evident: The older ladies and gentlemen in military uniforms and with a multitude of medals on their chests still embody the word “veteran” for me.

During the Soviet era, the ruling Party used the holiday as a showcase for Soviet military might. But as children, my peers and I were oblivious to the larger geopolitical meaning of the day. We would revel in the chance to see smartly dressed soldiers marching in step, followed by row after row of tanks and other armored vehicles, with planes flying in formation overhead. Leaders of the hopeful democratic Russia did away with the parade tradition after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but Vladimir Putin’s administration brought it back in the early 2000s. Since then, the parade has once again become the show-stopping centerpiece of Victory Day celebrations. This year, Israeli President Shimon Peres and German Chancellor Angela Merkel attended the 65th anniversary commemoration, while Polish, Egyptian, Turkish, French, and British troops took part in the parade.

Memorializing sacrifice photo 3

Photo credit: Susan Wexler, HIAS

But as I got older, I have come to realize the deeper meaning of the holiday.

In a country where only one in four men returned from the war without being physically harmed – no one collected stats on PTSD and other emotional illness at the time – May 9 remains one of the ways to recognize the historical significance of the fight and the importance of memory.

The Great Patriotic War, as it is known to all Russian-speakers, has left us a rich heritage of countless stories of heroism. The ruling Party used these stories to promote its agenda and to set an impossible standard to follow. The sacrifices endured by the people were only possible because they believed that they were fighting the ultimate battle, a life-or-death struggle.

Last week, ahead of the official commemoration, Chicago-area Russian veterans honored the anniversary in a series of local programs. More than 400 veterans and members of their families listened to dramatic poetry readings, sang songs and told stories at programs put together by Jewish Child & Family ServicesHIAS ChicagoCJE SeniorLife and Dina and Eli Field EZRA Multi-Service Center.

Memorializing sacrifice photo 4

Photo credit: Susan Wexler, HIAS

Every year, fewer and fewer veterans come to these events. Every year, they look around the room and sadly remark on the passing of a peer.

My grandfather died 14 years ago. He had the chance to tell his story – in fact, together with his fellow infantrymen and women, he wrote a short book (in Russian) about his experiences.

But some of the WWII veterans living in Chicago didn’t have that chance. Still, it’s not too late yet. If your grandparents were part of the war effort – whether in Europe, the United States or elsewhere, ask them about it. Let them tell you the story, so that the memory of their valiant actions lives on.

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Mark your calendar…wedding season is here

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05/13/2010

Recently, I feel like I’ve entered a new life stage.  I’m lovingly referring to it as the stage where everyone I know is suddenly growing up and deciding to get married.  I admit that I’m not handling the aging process very well— I’m terrified of turning 27 and unhappy about entering my late 20’s.  Bring on the Botox! I’m kidding, I think.  But, I digress.

Life is changing again much like it did right after college graduation— we are buying homes and moving in with boys, getting engaged and planning our dream weddings.  And some of you, you know who you are, even have your calendars marked to start trying for babies!

It’s a lot to take in.

I’m kicking-off my first wedding season in a big way— at my cousin Becky’s Memorial Day weekend wedding in Lake Geneva.  I’m honored to be her maid of honor.  It’s the first time (and possibly only time) that I will hold such a distinct privilege and I don’t want to mess it up!  In fact, Becky has fondly begun referring to me as a, “maid-zilla.”  I’ve yelled at the staff at David’s Bridal twice (you’ll have to ask her why, but they seriously deserved it) and during her makeup trial last week, I kindly told the makeup artist that she needed to learn how to correctly apply false eyelashes before my cousin’s wedding.  A few weeks ago, my mom and aunt threw a picture-perfect shower with my help, of course, and the bachelorette party this Saturday is going to be a blast!  It turns out I’m pretty good at bossing people around and planning parties.

What I’m not so good at, is writing my MOH speech.  Up till now, I really haven’t attended many weddings nor heard many wedding toasts.  I’m stressed out about striking that balance between funny, sincere, memorable and appropriately long enough, but not too long that I put people to sleep.  I need help and I thought of all of you, lovely Oy!Chicago readers, maybe you can give me some speech feedback or just share your own advice and stories for surviving wedding season.

(Just in case you were worrying, I’m making the bride promise not to read this story before her big day.)  Here’s what I have so far:
 
Growing up, Becky and I were sorely outnumbered and usually out-screamed by all of the boys in the family.  As the oldest grandchild on our mother’s side, Becky always held a special place in everyone’s hearts and all of the grandchildren looked up to her, but no one more than me.  Whenever our families spent time together on vacations or at holiday celebrations or even just hanging out at Papa and Uncle’s house (and later apartment), I had to be by your side.  I wanted to be just like you—  smart, tall, gorgeous, outgoing, a great athlete and swimmer....

In fact, I thought Becky and her friends were SO cool, that I tried to “honor” her old friend Tasha by naming my first dog after her.  I was five at the time.

Now the girls in this family, they like boys, and over the years, there have been quite a few.  But then Kevin entered the picture.  He seemed nice, kind of quiet and laid back.  I liked him, but I wasn’t fully convinced...

Until one night in late September 2007, Jason, my boyfriend, and I were out to dinner with Becky, Kevin and a few of their friends.  I believe we were at El Mariachi, a great Mexican joint in Lakeview.  The Cubs were playing that night in the restaurant.  At that point in the season, the Cubs were very close to clinching the NL Central playoff spot.  (Jason and I even had plans to leave early the next morning to drive all the way to Cincinnati to watch them play.)  But then, surprise of surprises (especially for the Cubs) they came back from behind to win the game and win their playoff spot while we were sitting enjoying our meal!  Well let me tell you, Kevin was one of the first to bolt from the table to run down the street to Clark and Addison where we all joined thousands of other young Cubs fans and celebrated the news that we were once again going to the playoffs!  Unfortunately, we all know how that story ended, but that’s when I knew Kevin was a keeper.  And I’ve enjoyed watching and attending Cubs games with both of them since.

Becky and Kevin, I have no doubt that you have a beautiful life to look forward to.  You are very fortunate to have found each other and I just couldn’t be happier for you two.

I wish you a lifetime of long conversations, laughter and lots of love.

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Sean Wallis can't lose!

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05/12/2010

Sean Wallis photo

Ever meet a guy who just can't lose? Well, Sean Wallis is pretty close. He won an IHSA Basketball championship at Glen Brook North High School and two NCAA DIII championships at Wash U. Wallis seems to win wherever he goes. A recent graduate, the north shore native is now weighing his playing options.

If I could give him advice, it would be to go play in an Israeli league and have a great time living in Israel. And knowing his playing record, he would probably come back with some hardware to add to his trophy case. Wallis is a really nice guy and surrounds himself with good people. (In fact, he is Facebook friends with my sister). Recently, I was fortunate enough to get a chance to chat with him:

The Great Rabbino: You played High School at Glenbrook North High School basketball with Jon Scheyer. What was that experience like?
Sean Wallis: I've actually been playing basketball with Jon since he was in fourth grade and I was in fifth grade. Not only is he an incredible basketball player, but he's an awesome person too. He works harder at his game than anyone I've ever met and I couldn't be happier that he had the year he did because no one deserves the success more than him. I was lucky enough to get to go to Indianapolis and watch him and even celebrate with him after they won, which was an experience I'll never forget. High school basketball was an awesome time for me— not just because we won a state championship my senior year—
 but because we played in front of sold out crowds every night.

Who would win one on one, you or Scheyer? 
The summer going into my senior year of high school, we would go to this half court gym and play a best of seven series four nights a week. We probably played 100 games over the course of a few months and I won... approximately six or seven. That being said, I think he'd win if we played. I could definitely score on him here and there, but getting a stop is a really tough thing for me to do against him.

You were a part of both the 2008 and 2009 Wash U Bear Championship teams, what was that like?
It was incredible and two very different experiences. In 2008, I actually had a season ending broken leg in the third game of the season. In 2009, I was named Most Outstanding Player in the tournament. While people say "oh, but it's D3," it is the same national championship trophy, we get the same hats and t-shirts, the same confetti raining down, and we're on national TV, also. I can't even begin to explain how lucky I am to have gotten the chance to play with such awesome teammates and win it all during my basketball career.

Why did you decide to play ball at Wash U? Did you have a chance to play DI?
Wash U was the best combination of basketball, academics and location. It had an undergraduate business school which was very important.   It also allowed me to play in an awesome conference where I could compete for a national championship. We visited more cities than a lot of DI teams— New York, Boston, Atlanta, Chicago and Pittsburgh— during the regular season, which was awesome. I had the chance to walk on at some bigger DIs and a few smaller DIs came into the picture after the state tournament my senior year, but I knew I wanted to use my basketball to get me into a great academic school.

You were recently named DIII First Team All American, what was that like? Was it the highlight of your basketball career?
The individual accolades are a real nice honor, without a doubt. It always feels great to be recognized for the hard work that you put in day in and day out. But honestly, the highlights of my basketball career have been the championships I've won and the memories I’ve made with my teammates. There's nothing like celebrating in a locker room or at half court with a group of guys you spend so much time with.

What are your plans now that your collegiate basketball career has come to an end?
I'm still up in the air. I've been contacted by a few agents and even teams about the opportunity to play basketball professionally over in Israel. It is one of the premier leagues in all of Europe and being a Jew has its advantage, as I can obtain citizenship, and not be considered an "international" player. So that is one possibility, but I also am looking at different opportunities in strategy and management consulting in the Chicago area. Hopefully, I'll figure it out over the next month.

Living on the North Shore of Chicago, (we asked Colt Cabana this same question) what is your favorite Chicago Pizza?
Well, this is a tough question. I have grown to enjoy deep dish more and more as I've gotten older. When I was nine I told Mark Malnati, the owner of Lou Malnati’s, that I hated his pizza without knowing who he was. Even though it isn't very Chicagoan of me, I have to say that by far and away my favorite pizza is Barnaby's. Nothing beats it.

You have one Bulls player ever to take the final shot in a championship game, who do you let take it John Paxson or Steve Kerr?
Funny question considering I'd kill to have either of their jobs right now. Both hit NBA Finals game winners, Pax in Phoenix and Kerr against Utah at a game I was at, but I'd have to say Pax just because I grew up going to his camps and knew his son Ryan pretty well— love that jumper.

Any other Jewish college basketball players TGR fans should watch out for?
There are a couple of Jewish Americans I'd love to give a shout out to that are playing over in Israel professionally right now. Both Todd Golden and Ben Rudin have been really helpful in showing me the way and telling me about their experiences over there. Todd was a great player for DI St. Mary's (CA) and Ben was a big time DIII guard at Middlebury.

To read more about Wallis, check this out.

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine  
                
For more from Jeremy, check out  www.thegreatrabbino.com .

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Navigating the path from Miss to Mrs.

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05/11/2010

Navigating the path from Miss to Mrs. photo 1

On the very cold night of January 25 at 9pm, outside the Planetarium overlooking an unobstructed view of the Chicago skyline, a sweet, handsome young man got down on one knee and proposed to his shocked and freezing girlfriend.

And she said yes.

By 10pm most of their friends and half of greater Chicago had heard the good news. First thing the next morning, they made it official by changing their Facebook status from “in a relationship” to “engaged.” And 30 seconds later, they had booked the wedding date, venue, band and photographer (okay maybe that’s an exaggeration, but my mom may be the world’s most efficient amateur wedding planner.)

If you haven’t caught on, this modern-day Jewish fairytale is about me and my now fiancé, Mike. I mean, I’m pretty sure every Jewish fairytale begins with “They first locked eyes across a crowded conference room at the JUF building” and ends with “and they lived happily ever after” right? (True story—we met while Mike was also working for JUF!) Even though our wedding is over a year away, the past few months have been a whirlwind of mazel tovs and celebrations, and talk of guest lists, bridesmaid dresses, flowers and my “vision” for my wedding day (that one always cracks me up).

And while my relationship with Mike may seem like a fairytale, trust me, I’m not a princess kind of gal. I’m not that girl who has dreamt of her wedding day since she was five—truthfully, I’d never really even thought about it until now. My only “vision” for my wedding day is of a room full of windows so the sun will shine in during the ceremony. My parents want a great band, where all of our closest friends will dance the night away. And as for Mike, all he cares about is that we serve baby lamb chops during the cocktail hour.

What I have been struggling with the most throughout this process is how to make our wedding feel meaningful, unique, and personal to us. With so much to do surrounding an engagement, it’s easy to understand how people get swept away in planning the big party and don’t really have time to digest what getting married really means. Every once and awhile, though, it hits me: “So,” I turned to Mike one day, “you’re gonna like be my husband?” And when our families came together for seder this year and my grandma referred to Mike’s parents as my in-laws, I suddenly realized that what was now two families would soon become one.

Navigating the path from Miss to Mrs. photo 2

Getting married is also about carrying on traditions, and not just traditions like registering for things like oven mitts and ice cream makers (I totally want one of these, by the way) and then acting surprised when someone buys them for you, or tearing up when you’ve found the dress you will wear on that special day (I’m just not a crier). It’s about really meaningful traditions—like getting married by the rabbi and cantor from my family’s synagogue, having my sister and my closest friends stand up with me, dancing the hora and the cha cha slide with my friends and family and walking down the aisle toward the greatest guy I know while trying not to trip on the train of my gown.

And then there are the kinds of traditions that go on long past your wedding day—like breaking the fast at my parents’ house on Yom Kippur with bagels, lox and tuna salad, or bringing back the Friday night dinners Mike had with his family as a kid. When Mike and I go from single to married, does that mean we also go from children to grownups? It seems to me that soon it will be up to us to figure out how to meld our families’ traditions together and make new ones of our own. And if we’re the ones to host the seder, does that mean we can’t sit at the kids table anymore?

Lucky for me, I have a great guy, amazing parents, and wonderful in-laws-to-be to help navigate the path from Miss to Mrs. And lucky for Mike, he has me!

Oh, and if we’re really lucky, we’ll get to carry on in the great fairytale tradition and live happily ever after.

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You Oughta Know

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05/10/2010

I met “Jake” the summer between our freshman and sophomore years in college.  He was tall, blond, sweet, smart, Jewish, and a total dork endearingly nerdy.  He sent me flowers and made me mix tapes of cheesy love songs.  I wasted many good college years on him.  We dated for five years.  We talked about the future together.  We had the kids’ names picked out.  We were certain that we would spend the rest of our lives together.

Flash forward five years, and the relationship was over.  The short story: he was an asshole we simply had grown into different people who saw the world in different ways.  We should have ended the relationship in year two, but instead we made the mistake of staying together to vainly try to recapture what was gone.  And the longer we stayed together, the harder it became to leave, in large part because I had so much time and emotion “invested” in the relationship.

It took me five years to learn that relationships are not investments.  There is never a guarantee that you will see a return—e.g., love, happiness, marriage—for your “efforts.”  Bottom line for any relationship—whether it’s 5 weeks, 5 months, or 5 years—is you are probably better off free to meet someone new who can give you what you need to make you happy, if that is missing from your current relationship.

While obvious, the painful truth is that so many of us stay in not-so-great relationships simply because we have been with a person for so long we can’t imagine life without him/her.  And we are afraid to start all over again.

That’s not to say that there is an acceptable time limit for couples to date.  As someone who is very happily married to a procrastinating idiot wonderful man she dated for 5 long years, I don’t believe that the length of time couples date to be an indicator of future married bliss. But, it can be a red flag to deeper problems.

I can’t tell you what you should do.  But I can give you some of the warning signs that I, and my friends, have missed over the years.  Maybe if we had listened to our mothers been more objective, we could have saved ourselves time and energy.  Such as:

• One of you has cheated.  Beyond the whole “can I ever trust this person again” question, if one of you has cheated that’s a pretty good indicator that someone isn’t happy in the relationship and is seeking what he/she wants in someone else but doesn’t have the balls to break up.  Or, you just might be with an untrustworthy asshole, and who wants to be stuck with that?

• Your friends and family hate him/her.  The people in your life are far more objective than you, and can see what you can’t.  

• You hate his/her friends or family.  Don’t underestimate the power of in-laws have to make you miserable. Ditto with his/her friends.

• You are more focused on the wedding than on what comes after.  Weddings are one day.  You are going to be stuck with him/her for the rest of your life.  And divorce is a very sticky and expensive proposition. 

• You are afraid you won’t meet anyone else, or anyone as “good”.  Fear is never, ever a reason to stay with someone.  No matter how old you are, no matter how low your self-esteem there really and truly is someone out there for every person.  Do not let all those negative statistics about marriage rates for people in their 30s or older scare you into staying with someone not right for you.

• The sex is bad.  ‘Nough said.

• There is emotional/physical abuse or he/she wants you to change.  Get out. Now.

• You have dated so long the length of your relationship has become the butt of many jokes, and you stopped laughing a long time ago.  At anything.  If your sadness about not getting what you need is overshadowing any happiness you are deriving from the relationship, it’s probably time to move on.  

• You are clinging to the person he/she once was, not is.  Or vice-versa. 

• You can’t agree on any major values—e.g., having kids, how you would raise said kids, etc.  Love doesn’t always conquer all.

Whatever you decide to do, know that it is your decision.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this isn’t about the length of time you date someone.  It’s about how happy you are.  Sure, it sucks when you get that phone call from your ex that he/she is getting married, and you are still single.  My recommendation for that: tequila shots and Alanis Morissette.  But you oughta know that you WILL find someone else; smarter, funnier, sexier, and yes, with less back hair too.

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10 to End Cancer

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05/07/2010

Josh 01

Less than a year ago, Josh Orenstein was living the life that is familiar to so many of us in our 30s. He worked hard as an attorney downtown, commuted on a CTA bus, frequented a bar now and again with buddies, dined out with a great girlfriend, hit the gym a few times a week, and uploaded a picture or two to Facebook.

And nothing has changed, because Josh was fortunate enough to catch cancer before it had spread and before he needed chemo therapy.

A former college athlete whose only health concern was a bad back from running track at Georgetown University, Josh noticed something was different last spring. After a couple of weeks, he became a bit more concerned than perhaps a typical 33-year-old because a close friend from high school had been diagnosed with testicular cancer in 2005.

Josh went to the doctor who told him it was probably nothing, but recommended an ultrasound to be on the safe side. Josh received the bad news at a happy hour that was later confirmed by his urologist.

Josh had testicular cancer.

“It’s one of those moments where you realize your number is up,” Josh said.

A few days later, Josh underwent successful outpatient surgery. He was walking the same night and only took three days off work. Worse than the surgery, he said, was watching and waiting to see if the cancer would come back or what kind of treatment regimen he would need.

During that time he was surrounded by his parents and his girlfriend, Madeline Choe.

“Madeline was with me through surgery,” Josh said. “She was incredible. My family has been crucial. They were extraordinary.”

Josh has also turned to God and Judaism as a source of comfort.

“I am not a terribly observant person,” he said. “I observe certain things, but I don’t observe others. There were moments of real fear. There were times when if I could have run away from it I would have. There were moments of terror. I was definitely praying. Whether I know there is a God or not, if there is I wanted His help. The next few visits to synagogue were meaningful to me. If God means anything to you, it means more in those moments for sure.”

Josh has an excellent prognosis. Although there is a 30 percent chance the cancer could return during a two year period, the survival rate is over 95 percent. This is a drastic shift from the 1970s when 80 to 90 percent of testicular cancer patients did not survive.

The increased survival rate is due to a chemotherapy regimen—the same treatment that allowed Lance Armstrong to win the Tour De France after his testicular cancer had metastasized. But Josh warns men not to mess around with their health.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Josh said. “We’re not too young for this stuff and it actually really does matter when you catch things and when you find them. It’s going to spread if you get it. “Josh promised himself that if he didn’t need chemotherapy he would do something to take up the time and energy he wouldn’t have had if he was going through treatments.

Once he received the good news, he was determined to fulfill his promise. Because of his bad back, he couldn’t raise money by running a marathon or doing a 200 mile bike ride, so he decided to do something more unique to give back.

He chose the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society because of their fundraising prowess and the high percentage of dollars raised that goes to research and patient care.

With support from LLS’ Kayla Kovarna, Madeline and his friends Nathan Lundby and Joel Bush, he started 10-to-End-Cancer. The goal is to raise $20,000 by hosting events while Josh completes 10 challenges, including participating in The Polar Plunge, reading the 1,386 pages of War and Peace, taking a trapeze class, sweating through 105 degree Bikram Yoga, getting volunteers to swab for bone marrow compatibility, studying tap dancing, human figure (naked) sketching and skeet shooting.

Nathan said being involved with the fundraising has been inspiring.

“I’ve been impressed by people who don’t know Josh and really want to do things to help out,” Nathan said. “A lot of people are very generous and very supportive.”

Nathan has been most inspired by Josh.

“He’s been like a champ the whole way,” Nathan said. “He’s been a fighter with the cancer and it carries on into the fundraising. Once he got relief from his own situation, he put his time and energy into this. That’s impressive.”

Josh’s 9th, and most recent challenge is driving Cubs fans in a Chicago Rickshaw. The-10-to-End-Cancer Challenge has raised an impressive $16,000 in nine weeks. Josh wants your help in determining his last challenge.

In the comments section below, make your suggestion for his final challenge – the more outrageous and funny, the better. If he uses your challenge, he’ll mail you a 10-to-End-Cancer t-shirt.

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Desperately seeking solidarity

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05/06/2010

A few weeks ago, my friend invited me to a costume party. There were no witches or vampires. Instead, our task was to dress as a stereotype.

Ironically, while many of us seek slutty versions of everyday professionals for our Halloween costumes in October, my friends and I all went maternal in April.

When planning the intricacies of these costumes, however, professions were absent from our conversation.

After a shotgun trip to Target, in which we debated props in the baby and houseware aisles a mere two hours before the party, here’s what resulted:

One of my friends dressed as a suburban mom—a cross between the movie “Mean Girls” and the northern suburbs—in a one-tone velour jumpsuit with big sunglasses and carried around a paper Caribou coffee cup in one hand, and wine and a Sunset Foods shopping bag in another.

Another of my friends dressed as a Roscoe Village mom with a pregnant belly stuffed with scarves, and made her boyfriend wear a Cubs T-shirt and a baby harness, in which he placed a fake dog—after which, I reminded him he would be the proud owner of his own baby harness.

I dressed as a “desperate housewife” from the 1950s with a shirtdress, an apron, a rolling pin in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

One could say we were all a bit desperate.

In a conversation with my friend weeks later, we were puzzled why we all went there. Are most images of women in current day pop culture a bit desperate?

The TV show “Mad Men” glorifies the 1950s secretary. “Desperate Housewives” glamorizes loveless marriages in the context of white-picket fences. “Girls Next Door” makes it cool to sleep with Hef again. The proliferation of vampire shows and movies are making the victim/rescue fantasy all too present.

The images from these shows are somewhat antiquated. But then, there are “The Real Housewives,” which bring us right into 2010—or do they?

I am addicted to Bravo’s “The Real Housewives” series. The show, no matter what city we’re talking about—New York, New Jersey, Atlanta and Orange County—I watch them all. These women fascinate me.

In New Jersey and Orange County, for instance, many of the women scarcely appear to work and rely on their men for their bling and nanny tuition.

In New York, some of the women work, but I also get the sense that others are living happily off of their divorce settlements. When they’re not busy planning charities for bragging rights, off shopping or getting liposuction, they say hello to their children.

Alex McCord, married to the very metro-sexual and foreign Simon van Kempen, gets heat from the other housewives for how close she and her husband are; they go shopping together, and namely, raise their children together.

In this season, McCord took particular issue with Jill Zarin for poking fun at her young boys, and essentially her parenting skills.

Meanwhile, Zarin has been promoting her new book on the show that she co-wrote with her sister Lisa Wexler and mom Gloria, called “Secrets of a Jewish Mother.”

In a “Watch What Happens Live” post-episode recap, host Andy Cohen interviewed Zarin and Gloria in a light-hearted segment called “Good for the Jews,” where he asked them questions like whether Jon Stewart was good for the Jews.

I would argue that Zarin, the only visibly Jewish housewife on the show, is bad for the Jews.

Repeatedly, viewers are reminded of the wisdom Zarin supposedly received from her mother growing up, yet she appears to have taken nothing from it.

She is unforgiving, a yachna in the worst sense, petty and bossy. Like a suffocating Jewish mother stereotype, she smothers her friend Bethenny Frankel and outcasts her when she feels rejected. Granted, Frankel is often no prize.

Zarin is somehow missing that playground etiquette. The others are guilty of this behavior as well, but the level to which she cannot forgive and forget is actually disturbing.

When I first started watching the New York series, Zarin, the only self-proclaimed Jew on the show, stood out to me. It was like I watching a compilation of so many Jewish women I’ve known in my life.  There are times when I feel bad for her, commiserate with her and laugh with her; at other times, I am angry with her.

That anger is complex and perhaps, interests me most.

Generally, I am angry that this show is shining a spotlight on and glamorizing women who have all the resources in the world and choose to turn against each other out of frivolity and pettiness.

Specifically, I am frustrated that some members of the Jewish community, who also have all the resources in the world, are doing the same thing.

I think that Jewish women can sometimes be each other’s harshest critics.

I’m concerned too that America will be Zarin’s harshest critic. She is the star of many of the verbal boxing matches on the New York show. Being Jewish, I can have compassion for Zarin; there is something about her personality that I understand. But I worry that viewers living in areas with few or no Jews are receiving her differently.

I also have trouble with the fact that America is celebrating these women who are hungry and desperate and clawing each other’s eyes out, despite the fact that we are living in a world where white-picket fences no longer bind us and marriages do not have to define us.

In the words of Wendy Wasserstein at the end of her play “The Heidi Chronicles,” Heidi said, "I don't blame any of us. We're all concerned, intelligent, good women…It's just that I feel stranded. And I thought that the whole point was that we wouldn't feel stranded. I thought the point was that we were all in this together."

What about this fascinates America? Does it bring us back to our grade school and middle school days with fights on the playground and in the hallways? Is it somehow validating to watch grown women pick at each other?

It begs the question whether we ever truly “grown up?”

My friend, who is Jewish, said to me about Zarin, “[I] might hate the stereotype, but I’m more comfortable around Jills.”

Do we have to be “comfortable around Jills” or can we defy the stereotype altogether?

I would argue we have a choice: We can live the stereotype or we can break it and be better for it.

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My Cubs Journey: How a bar mitzvah student taught me to appreciate a seemingly detestable team

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05/05/2010

My Cubs Journey photo

Ever since moving to Chicago, I have tried to understand this city’s inconceivable fascination with the Chicago Cubs.  Here’s my story:

Opening Day:

Moving to Wrigleyville from NYC in mid-June, I failed to realize it’s called Wrigleyville because it is near WRIGLEY FIELD.  With such a location comes parking nightmares, horrible traffic jams, and obnoxious fans who in their drunken stupor, scream out their frustrations as they pass my apartment building late at night.

My first Cubs game:

Going to my first game, Cubs vs. Mets, I was shocked to see the loyal Cubs fans’ reaction to witnessing their team give up 11 runs in one inning.  THEY THREW GARBAGE ON THE FIELD.  Garbage!!!?  Thrown onto what was supposed to be “sacred ground?!” What kind of fans do this!?  Is this, I wondered, the meaning of “The Friendly Confines?”

Taron strikes out big time:

I am not proud of this one:  After weeks of trying to find new friends here, I was invited to join a great bunch of people for dinner at Navy Pier.  As we ate, I noticed one of the guys constantly checking his phone.  “What are you doing?” I asked.  “Checking on the Cubs game,” he said. The Cubs game, really?  “Are they in some kind of playoff?”  I asked.  “Not yet,” he said.  It was then that I inadvertently blurted out blasphemous words that I now realize should have remained private.  I said:  “Why is everyone so damn obsessed with the Cubs?  They haven’t won in like what—a hundred years…they never win now…and they are never ever going to win the World Series…You are all wasting your lives.”  And if that wasn’t enough, I most stupidly continued:  “Why don’t you root for another team in the area…like the Cardinals…at least they can win!”  While I had said these words with love and concern to my new potential friends, trying to save them from inevitable heartbreak, they interpreted my gesture as a beanball being thrown at them.  I never heard from them again.

Blocking the plate:

As a Chicago rabbi, I often hear the following sentiments spoken about a deceased father:  “One thing we can say about Dad was that he loved the Cubs.  That’s all he ever talked to us about. If the Cubs won, he was so happy—he’d buy us all ice cream, and we’d celebrate.  But when they lost, (and they lost a lot) everyone in the family knew to stay far away from Dad—wow, did he get mean!  (Rabbi, don’t write that last part in the eulogy, ok?)  So sad that Dad never got to see them Cubbies win a World Series.  It would have been the highlight of his life.”  When I hear such sentiments, sometimes I can’t help but think to myself:  “Too bad Dad didn’t root for the Yankees, what a much happier home-life everyone would have had!”

The home field advantage: 

I have heard members of Temple Sholom warmly refer to Wrigley Field as “The Other House of Worship” and it was from members of the congregation, in particular a certain bar mitzvah student named Ben, that I was finally able to understand and appreciate why so many people are so devoted to this team.

The Rookie steps up to the plate:

Ben is a smart, kind, easygoing, determined kid with a great sense of humor.  What I first noticed about him was that he always came to Temple with his head covered—not with a kippah or yarmulke—but with a blue worn-out baseball cap with a big red “C” stitched on the front.  As he told me, Ben has been a Cubs fan from as far back as he can remember. Even when he was three years old, he rooted for the Cubs.

First pitch:  He swings and connects!

Over the course of a year I got to know Ben while studying and helping him to prepare for his bar mitzvah.  Between D’var Torah writing and Torah chanting we’d take breaks and talk about the Cubs and Judaism.  As the year progressed, the more Ben spoke about his love for this team, the more I began to understand the appeal of the Cubs and how being a devoted Cubs fan is like being a devoted Jew.

The ball goes flying upward…

For Ben, being a Cubs fan taught him how to believe in something even in spite of terrible odds.  (Ben once joked that “what the Cubs have in common with Judaism is that, just as there’s a minority of Jews, the Cubs have a minority of wins.”)  Being a Cubs fan also taught Ben about having hope and faith. And being a Cubs fan taught Ben about patience and determination and persistence and that sometimes one has to chop onions and cry a bit.  (Chopping onions was Ben’s chosen job while volunteering at the Temple’s soup kitchen, the Monday Meal) And one more thing—being a Cubs fan taught Ben to be himself regardless of what anyone from St. Louis, NY, or anywhere else, might say.

The baseball is going, going…going…

I can respect these sentiments.  And for the two of us studying together it was easy to compare being a Cubs fan to being a Jew.  Like being a Cubs fan, being a Jew requires a great deal of hope, faith and belief.  Plus, I read a good article that says that both Jews and Cubs fans have wandered in the desert, believing with steadfast faith that one day they will reach the Promised Land.  And being a Jew means sometimes chopping onions and crying about our troubled times or chopping onions with joy to make latkes.  It also means being proud of who you are and being unafraid to stand up for what is right no matter what others say.

The ball is over centerfield…

Of course, just as it is inconceivable to expect to enjoy and succeed in playing baseball without knowing how to play the game, it is equally difficult to expect the same from Judaism.  To succeed in Judaism, to enjoy it and to learn how Judaism can help us lead better lives and become better people, one needs education, dedication and practice.

The ball flies out of the park!!!!  Home Run!!

Today, though Ben no longer wears his Cubs hat daily, he remains a devoted fan.  At the same time, his deep dedication to Judaism is exemplified through his participation in Temple Sholom’s Crown Family Hebrew High School program and youth group, through attending Shabbat services with his family and through his continued efforts as a Monday Meal volunteer helping to feed the hungry.

I wish there were more people like Ben.  I can’t tell you how many people in their 20s and 30s tell me that they haven’t been back to synagogue since their bar or bat mitzvah.  Once, a long time ago, they stepped up to the plate and hit a glorious single, but ever since that day, for them, the Jewish game is over and done.  No point in playing.

And here, I can’t help but think of the former New York Giants’ player Fred Merkle who in 1908 in a notorious game against the Chicago Cubs, left the field before the game ended thereby losing the game for himself and his entire team.  What a shame!  And, at the same time, I can’t help but reflect upon my own errors and strike outs over the years—like how I let my initial frustrations with the Cubs blind me from the reality of how great it is to be a fan of this great team, whether they win or lose.

Luckily the season always begins anew and there’s no better time than now.  Let’s get out there and play!  Let’s love the game!  Sure, sometimes we will strike out or be frustrated.  But other times we will swing and connect in such a way that our lives will be transformed for the better.  We WILL hit homers, maybe even Grand Slams!  Because after all, what we are talking about is indeed a way of life.  Who knows?  Maybe this year, will be our year: This year in Jerusalem, this year as World Series Champions!

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Why I think YOU should join a synagogue

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05/04/2010

When I became a Jew, the first thing I did was join my synagogue. It was an easy decision, socially if not always financially. I’d already been attending Emanuel Congregation for three years. It was my Jewish community, and joining, I felt, was as much a part of my Jewish identity as finding the perfect mezuzah or complaining about matzah on Passover.

Growing up in a religious Christian home in Kansas, not going to church was never an option. There are six churches within a quarter mile of my parents’ front door and the message was clear: Find the one that works. Shop around if you must, but find a church and go to it. In a small town, community is everything. To this day I have no idea what folks who don’t go to church do in Colby, Kansas before noon on Sundays.

Synagogue membership, I’ve found, doesn’t play that same role in the Jewish community. I’m 30, childless, and unmarried. Many times I’ve felt that synagogues don’t really want me at all, and I think many other young, single Jews feel the same. When I get married, they say, when I have children, when I’m ready to sit on the religious school board or complain about the parking lot, then I’ll join a temple.

We hear a lot of talk these days about the decline in our Jewish population due to intermarriage and apathy. I blame the apathetic relationship between my demographic and our synagogues. What better time to find a spiritual community than when you’re unburdened by the compromise necessary for marriage? What better time to discover your own Jewish identity without regard for the strength of the children’s Sunday morning curriculum?

Technology allows us to find like-minded Jews all over the world to blog with, tweet at, or Facebook. Classes and study programs, often subsidized, allow us to study Jewish texts and history alongside our peers. Independent minyanim are popping up to fill the perceived spiritual void left by synagogues that market their programs to couples and families.

But none of these takes the place of a synagogue. As Jews, we are our own small town, and community is everything. As worldly and cosmopolitan as some of us are, as different in observance or practice, we need each other.

A synagogue is a community. A flawed, frustrating community that needs us—our views, our opinions, and our uncomfortable, unfamiliar child- and spouselessness. And we need that community, if only, as it sometimes seems, to serve as a model of what our Jewish community has been, not what it can and will be.

The men and women who form the core of my Jewish family here in Chicago, many of whom I’ve met at and through Emanuel Congregation, are often, like me, converts or from interfaith families. We celebrate holidays together and with our congregation. We circle our wagons when trouble brews and stir the pot when things begin to feel too complacent. We serve on committees, teach in our religious school, and wrestle with temple politics. But our deepest bond, to each other and to Emanuel, is that we need each other, and we know it.

Check out my synagogue Sunday, May 16 at an event featuring comedians Fred Armisen of Saturday Night Live and Jeff Garlin of Curb Your Enthusiasm. They will be joined by musician Jeff Tweedy of Wilco in the show “Comedy, Q’s and A’s.” Get discounted tickets for Oy!Chicago readers. Use discount code "OyChicago".

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Countdown to Mother’s Day

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05/03/2010

Countdown to Mother’s Day photo

This is the first time in many years that I do not have to work on Mother’s Day—woohoo!

I have been excited for months. I kept cautiously checking the calendar at work, each time confirming with myself that “no one books an event on Mother’s Day.” True enough, no one booked an event. I have the entire day all planned out.

I envision a trip to my favorite gardening store where I will glide down rows of potted herbs, flowers and my favorite rose bushes (I have a weakness for rose bushes). I will be wearing my brand new wedge sandals that are not even broken in yet; and yet somehow I will glide. (Of course I can barely walk wearing my wide base orthopedic kitchen shoes, but still, I can see myself gliding.) I have on my new “tall drink of water”-turquoise blue cotton dress, and I remember to wear my 70 SPF sunscreen lest I turn lobster red. Of course it is sunny and a perfect 70 degrees in my fantasy.

The day continues with my artful planting of herbs, baskets of brightly colored flowers and this year’s heirloom rose bush. Then, I saunter off to my favorite salon for a well-deserved mani/pedi and eventually wind up on the couch sipping mimosas and eating some homemade French pastries made by the team of my husband and youngest son Jonah who will wait on me hand and foot.

Here is the reality—I am making brunch at home. The weather does not look good on the extended forecast. I have a huge event the next day at work and any alcohol will totally wreck my system for days. My new shoes will cause blisters and cripple me for a week …I do, however, have the day off and my mother is flying in for a few days. So here is the menu. PS—all of these recipes are also perfect for Shavuot.

Tortilla Espanola (potato and onion Frittata-Spanish style)
Wild Alaskan Smoked Salmon shmear with mini bagels
Fresh Fruit
Crepe Cake with vanilla bean pastry cream and raspberry preserves

Julia Child’s Crepe Recipe

This is a perfect recipe and works every time. You may need to try out a couple of crepes until you get the feel of your pan and range. The crepes can be made one day ahead of assembling the cake and can be stored overnight, covered in the refrigerator or frozen for up to one month.

Ingredients:
1 cup flour
2/3 cup cold milk
2/3 cup cold water
3 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons melted butter, plus more for brushing on pan

Directions:
1) Mix all ingredients until smooth in a blender or with a whisk. Refrigerate at least one hour.

2) Heat a non-stick frying pan over medium heat. Brush with melted butter.

3) Pour in 2 to 3 tablespoons of batter into the center of the pan and then tilt the pan in all directions to cover the bottom evenly. Cook about 1 minute, or until browned on the bottom. Turn and cook briefly on the other side.

4) Cool on a plate as you finish making the rest. You can stack the crepes-they will not stick together.

This recipe makes about twenty 5-inch crepes or ten 8-inch crepes.

Vanilla Bean Pastry Cream

This is a basic recipe that you will turn to over and over again. The fragrant, sweet pastry cream can be used as a filling for cakes, éclairs, homemade doughnuts, shortcakes etc…It can also be thinned out and used as a topping for any dairy dessert. This is one those recipes that can be used as a base and adapted. You can: add melted white or dark chocolate, infuse jasmine or your favorite tea into the milk, and add ginger or lemongrass …you get the idea. Oh yeah-this recipe is DAIRY. Please do not try to make it pareve. It is perfect the way it is and will lose all of its integrity, not to mention flavor, if made pareve.

Ingredients:
2 ¼ cups whole milk
6 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup cornstarch
1 vanilla bean split, lengthwise

Directions:
1) In medium bowl, whisk together 1/2 cup milk, egg yolks, 1/3 cup sugar, and cornstarch.

2) Transfer remaining 1 3/4 cups milk to heavy medium saucepan. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean and the seed and the pod to the pan. Sprinkle remaining 1/3 cup sugar over, letting sugar sink undisturbed to bottom. Set pan over moderate heat and bring to simmer without stirring.

3) Whisk hot milk mixture, then gradually whisk into egg yolk mixture-this is called tempering. You want to do this slowly or you will have scrambled eggs.

4) Return to saucepan over moderate heat and cook, whisking constantly, until pastry cream simmers and thickens, about 1 minute. Remove from heat, discard vanilla pod, and whisk cream until smooth. Transfer to bowl and press plastic wrap directly onto surface. Chill until cold, about 4 hours. (Pastry cream can be made ahead and refrigerated, wrapped well with plastic wrap on surface, up to 3 days.)

Raspberry Filling

1 cup purchased or homemade raspberry preserves

Directions:
1) Strain out the seeds using a mesh sieve.

2) Assemble the Cake

3) Place one crepe on a cake plate. Lightly brush the raspberry preserves over the crepe. Spread one tablespoon of pastry cream evenly over the crepe. Layer another crepe on top and continue with preserves and pastry cream until the final crepe has been added. Leave the top plain.

4) Chill the cake for 2 hours or overnight to firm up. Top with fresh whipped cream and berries.

Wild Alaskan Smoked Salmon Shmear

The flavors of the salmon really pop when combined with horseradish and lemon. I like to garnish the shmear with wasabi peas for a fun twist on the horseradish theme. The shmear can be made two days ahead of serving and stored covered in the refrigerator. Be sure to use Wild Salmon. The flavor is incomparable.  I like to pile the shmear onto a platter and arrange the garnishes around it. I serve the shmear with mini bagels. 

Ingredients:
½ pound Wild Alaskan Smoked Salmon (can be purchased at most grocery stores or fish markets), chopped finely
2 tablespoons purchased or homemade mayonnaise
2 tablespoons Dijon style mustard
2 tablespoons prepared horseradish
1/4 cup chopped red onion
2 tablespoons chopped flat leaf parsley
1 tablespoon chopped chives
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Freshly ground black pepper
Suggested garnishes: wasabi peas, sliced red onion, sliced cucumbers, sliced tomatoes, capers, fresh herbs, cream cheese,

1) Combine all of the ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Adjust seasoning to taste.

Tortilla Espanola

Spain’s famous egg, onion and potato omelet is my favorite “go-to” dish for brunch, summer Shabbat lunches and simple dinners. The trick to the dish is all in the timing. A perfect tortilla has a semi loose or almost custardy center with the outside layers set and firm. Delicious!
Serve the tortilla at room temperature or chilled.

Equipment: 12-inch Teflon sauté pan

Ingredients:
1 cup olive oil
1 pound waxy potatoes (such as: new potatoes, Yukon Gold or white boiling potatoes) peeled and cut into medium dice
1 large Spanish onion, cut into medium dice
4 cloves garlic, minced
10 eggs, whisked
Salt and pepper

Directions:
1) Place a medium saucepan, with the olive oil, over medium high heat. Fry the potatoes in batches (be sure not to over crowd the pan) until the potatoes are translucent and can be easily pierced with a paring knife (about 5 minutes per batch). Transfer the potatoes to a sheet pan lined with paper towels. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

2) Fry the onions in the same manner. Add the garlic to the last batch of onions and fry the garlic just until it is softened but not browned (about 1 minute).

3) Place the eggs in a large mixing bowl; add the cooled potatoes, onions and garlic. Stir together to combine. Season the mixture with salt and pepper.

4) Heat a 12-inch non-stick pan over medium low heat. Lightly grease the bottom of the pan with some of the frying olive oil. Add the egg mixture and stir occasionally until the eggs are almost set and there a medium brown crust at the bottom of the pan (you can see the crust by gently inserting a silicone spatula between the “set” eggs and the side of the pan).

5) Here is the tricky part! Place a plate, wooden cutting board or jelly roll pan on top of the pan. Invert the tortilla on to the pan. Then, slide the tortilla back into the Teflon pan. Place the pan in the oven and bake for 5 minutes. Allow the tortilla to cool in the pan before transferring to a serving plate; the tortilla will continue to cook in the pan. The tortilla can be stored, covered, in the refrigerator for 2 days.

Serve with tossed salad, fresh fruit

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Cheers! Chicago: Outdoor spots for dining and lounging

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04/30/2010

Spring is here, and boy, it couldn’t come any sooner! I love the spring, especially in Chicago. It’s quite a spectacle watching this great city begin to awaken from its long and dreary hibernation, to emerge from behind those heavy grey clouds that seemed to hover and blanket everything in sight. The smell of fresh green grass, the sounds of birds chirping and cooing, envelops you in one giant breath and doesn’t let go. The city is coming alive again, and with it comes some amazing places to check out, nosh, kibbitz and schmooze with friends and family. Nu? Let’s get to it!

Spring is also one of my favorite times of the year because of its effect on the seasonal culinary and beverage reincarnation. The Green City and Farmers Markets bring some of the greatest food and drink, and you can bet the top restaurants in the city know it, too. Both markets are open to the public, but if you want to grab the best and perhaps rub shoulders with Rick Bayless as he choices out fresh produce for his restaurants, go there and go early. Make a day of it. Close your eyes and follow your nose, get back to your roots and explore everything you can get your hands (and nose) on, so you can take it home and cook and eat like the best without having to step out! But whether you go out or dine at home, be sure to make your way outdoors and soak in that spring goodness!

Know what else? Several bar and establishments are opening their respective outdoor and rooftop sections for dining and lounging. Yay! I got the lowdown on a handful of places you definitely don’t want to miss. With the wonderful weather and pleasant al fresco nights ahead, here is my short list of outdoor spots.

• ROOF at the Wit Hotel – Yes, this penthouse, ultra-chic and ultra-trendy lounge is still one of the best hangouts when looking for an outdoor escape. They still serve up amazing Mediterranean-themed small plates as you observe the hustle and bustle of nighttime Chicago, and the cocktails won’t stop flowing until you say so. While it is a place to be seen, it’s a rooftop nevertheless, and it does boast one of the more scenic views of the city. Go early to avoid waiting in line on the ground floor.

• Vertigo at the Dana Hotel and Spa – Vertigo has been around for a while now, and it still knows how to throw a party outside. Cushy seating and cute botanical arrangements drape this great piece of outdoor landscape. Combine the view with a good cocktail and you’re set for a fantastic night under the stars.

• Piccolo Sogno – This spectacular River West Italian spot has an amazing outdoor patio that is perfect for relaxing and enjoying the great Chicago springtime. While it may not be on a 27 story rooftop overlooking the city, you can easily lose yourself in the moment and firmly believe you are at an outdoor café in Italy sampling some delicious treats and basking in the warm sunlight. Me scuzi signore! And if you can’t get seated outside, don’t fret – they’ve got vertical gardens boasting fresh flowers and herbs to keep your eyes and ears on sharp alert. Oh, and let’s not forget the fabulous handmade pizzas and delicious Italian wines they serve up, too!

• C-View – I know, I know. Big seafood restaurant. I keep kosher so this would not be among the first places I would recommend to eat, either. That being said, the food really is incredible, but the rooftop bar C-View takes the cake. A gorgeous view that almost spans 360 degrees, this rooftop scene is definitely one to tipple towards when scoping out Chicago nights this season. Great place for a date or a girls’ night out— either way you are on your way to some good times.

• Citizen – I honestly can’t say enough good things about this place. It’s got a great vibe and a crazy rooftop that is really one of the coolest places to sightsee. The cocktails and service are ridiculous, and it’s an awesome choice as one of your many stops while rooftop bar crawling this spring and summer. Don’t pass this place up.

• Rock Bottom – You can’t miss this lively establishment standing tall and proud on the corner of LaSalle and Grand Avenue. Unbelievable lineup of craft beers to quench that thirst, tasty American style food, and of course, a bumping rooftop that will convince you to out long into the night. Plenty of good music and friendly faces will keep you coming back for more; I know I will!

• Honorable Mentions – Popsicle cocktails by the river at DeLaCosta, ski shots at Uberstein, and Chicago’s best new wine shop Juicy Wine Company’s rooftop oasis.

The Kentucky Derby is also this Sunday, and in honor of the long-standing spring event, I encourage all drinkers, wine, beer and spirit alike, to sample the quintessential Derby cocktail and one of America’s oldest libations, the Mint Julep. While a super-chilled silver or copper pewter is ideal, you can easily sip this sensation tall over crushed ice. It’s a simple four ingredient drink that has a well-balanced flavor with a nice refreshing kick at the end to entice another generous sip.

Choose a well-made Kentucky straight bourbon – I usually go with Woodford Reserve (Derby sponsors), Buffalo Trace or good ol’ Maker’s Mark – a handful of VERY fresh mint leaves, a couple of bar spoons of cane sugar or raw sugar (to taste if you want it more or less sweet) and very fine crushed ice. Muddle mint and sugar at the bottom of the glass, add crushed ice to top and gently stir to pull the flavors up from the bottom of the glass. Add 2 ounces of choice bourbon, stir gently, fill to top with more crushed ice, and garnish with a freshly smacked mint sprig.

Want a non-alcoholic alternative? Try this: substitute the bourbon and sugar with either Dr. Pepper or Barq’s Root beer (or a combo, or your favorite can of diet cola) and sip away!

So whether you’re kicking back with a Julep watching the Derby or chilling with a cocktail al fresco at one of Chicago’s many outdoor scenes, the spring and summer of 2010 looks to be an incredible and fun journey!

L’Chaim!

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Why Bootcamp?

 Permanent link
04/29/2010

Summer is coming and it’s no coincidence that I start to get busier about this time every year. Most people gain five extra pounds during the colder months, hence the term-“winter weight.” The problem is, most people only lose four of those pounds. This spring, I’ll tell you how you can lose all five pounds and maybe a few extra inches.

Now you might be asking yourself, “How am I going to drop that weight?” Well, I’ll tell you, you’ll join my outdoor bootcamp! Hey, a little self-promotion never hurt anybody. The reason my bootcamp has been around for 8 years is because it’s fun! We play with different equipment like medicine balls, agility ladders, soccer balls and the list goes on.

   

Even if you don’t join my class (but you should), I recommend getting outside! Put your SPF 30 on, and get moving. Summer in Chicago is the only reason many of us actually live in Chicago. Take advantage of the weather and train for a runbike race, or start swimming on the cheap at park district pools.

Take a hint from me and mix up your training. Play catch, ultimate Frisbee, basketball or soccer. The reason workouts that mix different sports or exercises work, is because you body adapts. However you train, your body attempts to become more efficient at whatever you do. That means your body will eventually get used to the recumbent bike, elliptical or weight routine you’ve been doing since high school, and you’ll reach a plateau.

Since the blogosphere is all about sharing, let me know what classes or outdoor activities you like. When it comes to fitness, I’m always looking for the newest trend or toy. My latest love has been a 40 foot rope, check out the video. I just bought the outdoor version!

If you do want to join my bootcamp, let me know ASAP. Class is filling up for my Monday and Wednesday, 6:30 p.m. hour of power in Oz Park!

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A Jewish sports-themed Omer counter

 Permanent link
04/28/2010

From the second day of Passover through Shavuot Jews count each day with a special prayer (49 days total). The time in between the holidays (Exodus from Egypt to receiving the Torah) is called the Omer. During the Omer people study pirkei avot, don't shave (notice some of your rabbis will have longer beards), and don't get haircuts. Personally, I am sporting a beard right now but I trim it for Shabbat, which is a common custom.

Everyone has different ways for remembering to count the Omer. I have seen a Simpsons calendar, an iPhone App reminder, and plain old going to synagogue. Check out The Great Rabbino’s Jewish sports-themed Omer counter—enjoy!

1 – Jordan Farmar’s UCLA jersey number.

2 – Taylor Mays’ USC jersey number.

3 – Jerry Reinsdorf has won two 3-peat Championships with the Chicago Bulls.

4 – Jersey number of NBA Hall of Famer Dolph Schayes.

5 – Jersey number of MLB Hall of Famer Hank Greenberg.

6 – Jersey number of Israeli basketball sensation Tal Brody.

7 – Jersey number of converted Jew and LA Dodger-great Steve Yeager.

8 – Jersey number of Milwaukee Brewer Ryan Braun.

9 – On 9/9 in 1965, Sandy Koufax threw his last no hitter.

10 – Jersey numbers of NHLer Matheiu Schneider.

11 – Jersey numbers of NFLer Julian Edelman, NHLer Jeff Halpern, and former Connecticut Huskies great Doron Scheffer.

12 – Number of catcher Brad Ausmus.

13 – Jersey number of NHLers Michael Cammarelli and Mike Brown.

14 – Number of Grand Slam titles won by tennis great Pete Sampras.

15 – Jersey number of Israeli soccer great Yossi Benayoun.

16 – Jersey number of former Giants pitcher Ryan Sadowski.

17 – Combined WWE, WCW, ECW, and TNA World Titles held by Kevin Nash, Bill Goldberg, Raven, and Macho Man.

18 – Jersey number of Kings’ forward Omri Casspi.

19 – Jersey number of Rays’ outfielder Gabe Kapler.

20 – Jersey number of MLBer KevinYoukilis and former MLBers Shawn Green and Joe Horlen.

21 - Jersey number of Nationals pitcher Jason Marquis .

22 – Shay Doron’s Maryland jersey number.

23 – Jersey number of NHLer Eric Nystrom.

24 – Jersey number of former Orlando Magic Danny Schayes.

25 – Number of wins posted by Steve Stone in his Cy Young Award winning season.

26 – Number in the NBA draft that Jordan Farmar was drafted.

27 – Number of complete games Sandy Koufax pitched in 1965 and 1966 and the age Koufax won the Cy Young and MVP awards in the same season.

28 – Number of wins for boxer Yuri Foreman and Tennessee coach Bruce Pearl in 2009/2010.

29 – Jersey number of Mets rookie Ike Davis.

30 – Jon Scheyer’s Duke jersey number.

31 – Number of home runs and stolen bases that Ian Kinsler had in 2009.

32 – Jersey number of Sandy Koufax.

33 – Number Mark Spitz was listed in Sports Illustrated’s 100 athletes of the 20th century.

34 – Jersey number of MLBer John Grabow and former MLBer Ross Baumgarten.

35 – Number in the NFL draft that the San Diego Chargers drafted Igor Olshansky in 2004.

36 – In 1936, Milton Green and Norman Cahners boycotted the Olympics in Germany.

37 – Number of home runs Ryan Braun hit in 2008.

38 – In 1938, Hank Greenberg hit 58 home runs.

39 – Jersey number of Texas Ranger Scott Feldman.

40 – Highest ranking of former ATPer Paul Goldstein.

41 – Number in the NFL draft that brought Andre Tippet to the New England Patriots.

42 – Jersey number of Chicago Bear Sid Luckman.

43 – Number of home runs Al Rosen hit in his 1953 MVP season.

44 – Number of league leading home runs Hank Greenberg hit in his last season with the Tigers.

45 – In 1945, the Philadelphia SPHAs won their 7th and last title.

46 – In 1946, Sid Luckman led the Chicago Bears to a title.

47 – Number of home runs Ron Blomberg hit for the NY Yankees.

48 – In 1948, Ilona Schacherer-Elek won Olympic gold in the Individual Foil.

49 – In 1949 Maurice Podoloff merged the BAA and the NBA and Dolph Schayes was named rookie of the year.

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine
For more on Jewish sports please visit www.TheGreatRabbino.com.

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Happy Jewish Mother’s Day

 Permanent link
04/27/2010

Happy Jewish Mother’s Day photo

So, as I was researching an Oy! article for Mother’s Day on depictions of Jewish mothers in popular culture, I kept running into the same name: Lainie Kazan. She is an actor; her most famous recent role was the mom in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but she was also the mom of Adam Sandler’s friend in You Don’t Mess With the Zohan.

Kazan has been playing this Jewish (or Jew-ish) mother character at least since 1982, when she was the Jewish mom in My Favorite Year (she was nominated for a Tony for the musical stage version in 1993).

Just look at her character’s names since then: Shirley Hirsch (Oy Vey! My Son is Gay!), Miriam Goldman (Beau Jest), Jeanne Shulman (The Big Hit), Leona Bloom (Beaches)… and even Sylvia Goldman in Delta Force (filmed in Israel by the Golan-Globus guys). Next up, she is the mom in the short Ollie Klublershturf vs. The Nazis, about a Jewish kid with a time-travelling video-game controller.

Also, on TV, she was Claire Steiner in Karen’s Song, Rose Samuels in The Paper Chase, Kirstie Alley’s mom on Veronica’s Closet and Howie Mandel’s mom on St. Elsewhere. And now she’s an Italian mom— that of Hilda’s fiancée, Bobby— on Ugly Betty.

Sometimes, she’s the Jewish grandmother, aunt, etc. These characters have included Bubbe in the Bratz movie (the designer of the original doll and two of the “Bratz” kids in the movie are Jewish, too)… the “Old Woman” in Sandler’s Chanukah animation, Eight Crazy Nights… and Grace’s Aunt Honey on Will & Grace… all the way back to her recurring Aunt Frieda character on The Nanny (in the mid-to-late 1990s).

Kazan’s stage musicals have also had female characters who could be seen as either ambitious or controlling: Gypsy, Hello, Dolly!, A Little Night Music, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Even Golda in Fiddler holds her own against the blustery Tevye.

The way Johnny Depp plays off-kilter fantasy-world anti-heroes, the way Gilbert Gottfried plays parrots and ducks, Lainie Kazan has almost cornered the market on Jewish mother roles.

But are Jewish mothers really this way? Or is there more to Jewish mothering than smothering? Maybe Jewish mothers are less like Lainie Kazan’s characters… and more like Lainie herself.

Her given name was Lanie Levine. She was born in Brooklyn in 1940; her father was Ashkenazic, her mother Sephardic. She went to nearby Hofstra University. In 1997, she was named “Queen of Brooklyn.”

She has performed on Broadway, understudying for Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl. A year and a half in, Babs got sick and Lainie finally took the title role; she got such good reviews, she quit the show (and who alerted those critics in the first place? Lanie’s mother.)

After her appearance in the October, 1970 issue of Playboy, two things happened. One, she became the basis for a Marvel super-heroine named Big Barda.

The other, more lasting impact on Kazan’s career was that she began performing for Hef (as a singer! please!). She ran and headlined two Playboy Jazz Clubs, Lainie’s Lounge East (in Manhattan) and West (in L.A.). She sang on Dean Martin’s variety show more than two dozen times, and even had her own variety show for a bit. She still does nightclub acts in Vegas and Atlantic City. Kazan even had a song on the Billboard Top 200 back in 1967. Two of her albums are currently available on CD; the material trends toward showtunes and standards.

Kazan, like many Jewish moms, is active in philanthropies. She serves on the board of B’nai B’rith, and was named its Atlanta branch’s Woman of the Year in 1997. She also served on the board of AIDS Project LA and has sung at its events. And Kazan regularly visits her own mother.

The problem with the idea of a “Jewish mother” is that before anyone became one, she was first a Jewish woman. No, the average Jewish woman has not had Lainie Kazan’s life. But as her life shows, there is no “average” Jewish woman’s life.

Similarly, there is no “Jewish mother,” when it comes to it. The “Jewish mother”— take Sylvia Fine (Renee Taylor) from The Nanny— or Roz Focker (Barbra Streisand) from Meet the Fockers— has a great deal in common with mothers of other ethnicities.

Look again at the Greek mother in My Big Fat Greek Wedding… or the Indian mother in Bend it Like Beckham and many Bollywood films. Listen to the Italian mothers on Everybody Loves Raymond and Seinfeld— yes, the Costanzas are supposed to be Italian.

True, Maria Portokalos (Kazan), Marie Barone (Doris Roberts), and Estelle Costanza (Estelle Harris) are all played by Jewish actresses. But one must admit that, while their characters are not Jewish, they and those other non-Jewish characters bear much resemblance to the “Jewish mother” archetype.

The original Jewish mothers, of course, were the Matriarchs of the Torah— Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. They are known familiarly simply as, “Imahot (The Mothers).” The Matriarchs of the ancient Middle East do not fit the stereotype of the Jewish mothers of the Lower East Side. None of these women, should the lightbulb— or oil lamp— burn out, would respond as the joke would have it: “That’s OK, I’ll just sit in the dark.”

This Mother’s Day, think about the Jewish mothers you know. Are they “Jewish mothers”? Or are they a widely divergent group of women… with a variety of life experiences, personalities, and parenting styles?

If their lives would be turned into movies, would any of them be played by Lainie Kazan? In the Lainie Kazan bio-pic, could she even play herself?

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Date Night

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04/26/2010

Date Night photo

It is a rare occasion for my husband and me to find a movie that we both want to see. I drift toward the art house films and romantic comedies, while David prefers movies that highlight blood and battle, gangsters and gore (I am biased…I know). Our DVD collection looks like a classic case of opposites attract – do any other household owns the Godfather trilogy and all seven seasons of the Gilmore Girls?

On the rare occasion when a movie comes out that sparks both of our interest, we face our other great obstacle: scheduling. I work full-time, David is in school full-time, and while we have been married for two-and-a-half years, we (luckily) have not fallen into the pattern of spending all of our time with each other and other “coupled” friends.

David does boys night with the guys, I have my Saturday night book club group (read: pot luck dinners and bar hopping with a side of book), and basically, life gets in the way of scheduling a movie date.

A few weeks ago, we were on a mission to have a low key dinner and a movie kind of night. I knew it would be a tough negotiation, and I was hoping David’s lack of knowledge of my film of choice, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, would help me out in winning this war. The conversation went like this:

Me: David, you’d love it – it’s a murder mystery and there is a really pretty foreign girl in it.
David: (after Google-ing): Oh, the plot line does seem kind of cool. Oh wait, it’s 2 hours and 32 minutes? And in Swedish with subtitles?!? Hell no – not happening.

Whereas, David’s suggestion went a little bit like this:

David: I’d rather see Clash of the Titans – now that is going to be a great movie. It’s based on lore from Greek mythology and filled with intense special effects.
Me: And how will this be any different from 300, Gladiator, Troy, or any other movie you’ve ever dragged me to. No thank you.

Finally, we settled on a flick we could both enjoy – Date Night with Tina Fey and Steve Carell. It seemed funny enough, if not a bit far fetched, and got decent reviews. But then our plans changed, and we ended up spending our Saturday night out to dinner with friends and bar hopping downtown. Goodbye date night to see Date Night.

What did happen the next day was interesting. Our discussion about going to see Date Night led us to our own discussion about having a regular date night – not to see a movie necessarily but to have a designated time for us to relax, catch up and have a few hours that are reserved strictly for each other. No homework, no house cleaning, no cell phones or other distractions. Just us, whether we make dinner together at home or go out and try a new restaurant.

Three weeks ago was the pilot program for Friedman Sunday night date night, and it was a success. We’ve now tried three new restaurants and have yet to actually step inside a movie theater. We have both realized that movies are not necessarily good dates for us – I’m happier going to see movies I want to see with my girlfriends, and David ends of catching most of his flicks on demand at home.

Perhaps sometime soon, our date night will venture to Cinemark to see Date Night. Until then, I’ll happily settle for $20 All-You-Can-Eat sushi at Siam Paragon or venturing into Rogers Park to try Taste of Peru.

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The life of a working mommy

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04/23/2010

The life of a working mommy photo

I know a lot about guilt.  Perhaps it’s in my genes, or maybe I’m just a sucker for angst.  I’ve spent a lot of time feeling guilty for a wide variety of things, including but not limited to not calling my grandmas enough, leaving my dog alone all day, throwing my newspaper away on the train because there’s nowhere to recycle it, and watching Millionaire Matchmaker.

But all of this practice guilt has not prepared me for the ultimate guilt.

The guilt of the working mom is a vicious cycle.  I’m guilty when I’m at work because I feel that I should be at home with the baby, and I’m guilty when I’m at home because I feel that I should be contributing more to the family checking account.

My three months at home on maternity leave were both exhausting and exhilarating.  I became accustomed to waking up with Ben in the wee hours of the morning, snuggling with him throughout the day, toting him along to Trader Joe’s or the dog park.  I loved waiting with Ben by our front door for his dad to come home from work, and reading to him at night before bedtime.  For better or worse, I was in a stay-at-home mommy state of mind.

Despite the fact that I had negotiated a 4-days-a-week schedule with my boss, the return to work was like a bucket of cold water on my head.  I left my house at 6:45am, before Ben woke up, and returned home at 6:00pm, with time enough only to feed him, bathe him and put him to bed.  I missed our early morning cuddle sessions, and wondered if he did, too.  I worried that something terrible would happen in my absence, and I would be helpless to do anything.

On the other hand, I was again part of the workforce, and re-discovered parts of my brain that had been on “sleep” mode for the previous 12 weeks.  I looked forward to my quiet time on the Metra, as it was my only opportunity to read a good book.  I had lunch with my friends.  I reconnected with the real world.

I came to realize that wearing both a mom hat and work hat, and doing the best I could in both roles, made me a mommy to be proud of.  Instead of leaving the house in the morning and feeling instantly guilty about what I’d be missing, I began to think about what I could do at work that would make Ben proud (and yes, I realize his 8-month-old brain lacks the capacity for pride, but just go with it).

Six months into my return to the workforce and the guilt is finally starting to subside.  Of course, as only a Jewish mom can, I am now feeling guilty about not feeling guilty.  And thus, the vicious cycle continues.

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Do your genes belong to you?

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04/22/2010

Do your genes belong to you? photo

Let’s say someone offers you a test that will tell you if you’re likely to develop a certain kind of aggressive cancer at a young age. The cancer runs in your family, and there are preventive measures available so you can reduce your risk of developing the disease. The test is only available from one company, though, and you have to take extreme measures to get a second opinion. By the way, if your insurance doesn’t cover the test, it could cost you more than $3,000.

This is a real situation. The company that offers the test is Myriad Genetics, and it owns the patent on the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes, which, when mutated, can dramatically increase a woman’s chance of developing breast and ovarian cancer as early as her 20s or 30s. (BRCA stands for “BReast CAncer.”) These mutations, or changes in a gene, have increased incidence in the Ashkenazi Jewish population, though they can occur in anyone. Preventive measures include lifelong surveillance, which could mean frequent MRIs and mammograms, and prophylactic mastectomies and oophorectomies — removing your breasts and ovaries before they develop cancer. If your results are inconclusive, meaning you have a mutation but the lab doesn’t know if it’s a harmful mutation, the next nearest option for Americans is Canada, which ignores the American patent.

Last year the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), along with hundreds of co-plaintiffs, filed suit against Myriad, claiming the BRCA gene patents were unconstitutional. They framed it both as an issue of access, highlighting the cost of the test, limitations on outside research and a perceived stranglehold on information, and as an attack on the gene patenting system itself. Genetic material, they argue, is a product of nature: it’s like patenting kidneys or oxygen or photosynthesis.

Nearly everyone I talk to about this issue is stunned to learn that 20% of the human genome is already patented. Why would anyone think such a thing was okay?, they ask. The reason for patenting a gene, as with any patent, is economic. Biotechnology companies invest millions of dollars in research and development. They want to be able to recoup that investment and put the money toward future projects. If there was no guarantee that investors would get returns on their investments, no one would give the company money, and no one would be able to develop life-saving technologies and medicines: they couldn’t afford it. Government grant money is nearly impossible to get, especially in this economic climate, and even then, it could never fund the depth of research needed to study something like BRCA.

Patent-holding companies also believe that focusing all their resources on a limited piece of genetic material encourages a consolidation of talent and knowledge. If people want to work on the BRCA gene, and their ideas are good enough, they can come to Myriad and have access to all their research and all their information. Nobody has to start from square one, and whatever good comes of that innovation can go toward funding new work. In refuting allegations made by a variety of consumer, health and research advocates, Myriad insists that its enforcement of its patents has not inhibited competition, shut down labs or projects, or denied women access to their genes, whether by availability or prohibitive costs. The many plaintiffs in the recent federal case, including medical societies, cancer researchers and BRCA-positive women, disagree.

On March 29, the federal judge overseeing ACLU v. Myriad Genetics sided with the ACLU. Myriad’s justification for seeking the patent in the first place is that it was the first to identify and isolate the BRCA gene. It applied to patent the isolated gene in purified form, which requires human processing. According to Judge Robert Sweet’s interpretation of the law, the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office had no business issuing proprietary control over something that occurs in nature, whether in isolation or no. The suit is far from over – Myriad is certain to pursue a higher ruling to protect its patents, even as they begin to expire in 2014 – but the ruling is significant, and, if upheld, could signal a need for innovative thinking among companies that rely on gene patents as protection.

Access to your own genetic information is a good thing. Everyone should be able to make informed decisions about their own health care, and genetic testing can provide important information that may influence these decisions. Does genetic testing only exist because its development has been incentivized? Will the current model evolve or stay intact? We’re on our way to finding out.

•  Excerpt: In the Family – Filmmaker Joanna Rudnick visits Myriad’s laboratories and interviews Myriad founder Dr. Mark Skolnick.

• American Medical News: “Gene patents rejected by federal judge” – The newspaper of the American Medical Association, which was a plaintiff in the case, reports on the physician angle of the case.

• The Los Angeles Times: “Are patients misserved by patents on human genes?” – A geneticist and a lawyer offer two interpretations of the ruling.

• The Salt Lake Tribune: “Myriad elicits a genetics tempest” – Myriad’s hometown paper reports on the politics of the case.

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How a Meeting of Three Became an Event for 250

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04/21/2010

How a Meeting of Three Became an Event for 250 photo

I’ve now written a couple of blog posts about the virtues, the benefits, and the "how-to’s" of networking.  These were a few of the thousands of blog posts out there from experts, professionals, and aficionados on the subject.  However, I still meet with many people who do not take advantage of this tool to improve their professional, personal, or employment standing.  I thought I might offer a case study of how some casual networking between three professionals turned into something that benefitted hundreds.  I think it shows that the most important question in a networking conversation is “How can we help each other?”

I met Angela Jacobs at a Career Connections event hosted by JVS Chicago.  I had been on the job for less than two months; she had been coming to JVS Chicago events for a while.  Angela is the Senior Associate Director, Talent Development for Alumni Relations and Development at the University of Chicago and she told me she often meets good candidates for her job openings at JVS events.  A significant part of my role at JVS was defined as Employer outreach and since I had an employer standing right in front of me, I reached out to her.  “JVS has several free programs that help employers fill positions,” I told her.  “We also have a new job board launching this summer.  Perhaps I could stop by your office, tell you a little bit more about what we do, and see if we can help you.”  We exchanged contact info and I promised to email her to set up a meeting.

In the meantime, Angela also connected me with Erin Slott, Director of Recruitment and Alumni Affairs at Spertus Institute.  Fantastic, I thought.  Another key part of my job was outreach to Jewish Organizations.  I brought my materials for show and tell and she brought hers.  She was excited to hear about the services JVS might be able to offer her students once they graduate.  I was glad to learn more about Spertus Graduate Programs for JVS clients considering higher education.  A relationship was born of mutual benefit.

My meeting with Angela was equally as productive.  She was looking for some very specific types of candidates for her openings.  We were launching a website that might bring some of those candidates to her.  She also was glad to hear there might be more networking events for us to go to, as I was adding more to the schedule.

Angela also shared with me another idea that she and Erin were starting to develop.  Angela had been navigating the nonprofit world for some time.  She even had experience serving on nonprofit boards.  She had observed that there were a lot of nonprofits out there with a lot of great ideas.  Very few of them, however, were talking and sharing these ideas.  Angela wanted to host an event that would get everyone in the same room together.  Erin was on board, because she had 75 students and thousands more alumni that were desperate to get there foot in the door at organizations all over Chicago.  Without hesitation, I offered to support the event.  Perhaps some JVS clients looking for nonprofit work might want to come.

This initial meeting was in June.  It took many email exchanges, several meetings, and a lot of creative marketing, but we got the event approved from all three organizations.  Nonprofit Networking Night was planned for October 2009.  We had an engaging speaker/author presenting on a clever topic: how to self destruct.   Erin had made arrangements for us to use the Spertus auditorium and serve refreshments afterwards.  We kept asking ourselves.  What else do we want?  Who else can we call?  We took some chances.  We were all over LinkedIn.  We sold our bosses on using dedicated emails and inviting staff.  Erin and I were able to get our executive directors to come in support of the program.

On October 15, 2009, it was raining sideways outside of 610 South Michigan Avenue.  But inside, 250 people were settling in to one of the best attended events that JVS or Spertus had hosted in some time.  Some were job seekers that heard about it through JVS, hoping to make connections for informational interviews and maybe even jobs.  Some were students hoping to gain some insight on what the post-graduation world would look like for them in the nonprofit world.  Some were professionals, well established in their fields, looking for new ideas and new contacts, and new ways to help.  Everyone was there to meet someone and most walked away with a new idea, contact, or opportunity.  It all started with a simple meeting where the question was asked, “What can we do to help each other?”

The next Non Profit Networking Night: How to Thrive when the Economy takes a Dive, will be held Thursday, April 29 at 5:30 p.m. at the Spertus Institute, 610 S Michigan Ave.  Admission is free, but reservations are required.  To RSVP by Friday, April 23, email   nnn@spertus.edu .  For more information, call (312) 322-1707.

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Unburdened

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04/19/2010

I think we are supposed to end Passover feeling unburdened and brand new. I feel neither. Do not get me wrong—I had a great Pesach. The weather was amazing for Chicago in March/early April and we were able to get outside and take walks. We ate great food and enjoyed some fun family time. But I have this nagging feeling that I did not do the holiday the way I should have.

Sure, I cleaned my home and scrubbed my kitchen, even to the extent of getting on a ladder and wiping lighting fixtures. I cooked chametz free springy menus that were tasty and festive. And yet, I have some remorse.

Over the years I have collected pots, pans, dishes and serving pieces just for Pesach. But, I guess I did not amass enough. I still found myself reaching for the convenient stack of foil pans and lids, disposable trays and dare I say it…plastic plates. UGH! I feel horrible and typing this makes it even worse. Since when did Pesach become a disposable holiday?

You see, I am a person that feels that once you know something to be true you must change your behavior. If you know that using disposables like plastic, foil and foam are bad for the environment then it is your obligation to stop using them. Yet, I still found myself knee deep in side dishes that required platters and cookware that I did not own. Instead of changing my menus, I went for it anyway.

Passover is supposed to be a holiday of not just cleansing your home but also your soul. We want to leave our former self and be unburdened and unencumbered of things that are both tangible and intangible. So, here I am resolving how I am going to do it better next year—starting now.

I am a chef that is known for not using faux ingredients with a take-no-prisoners approach on seasonal produce and farmed fish. I eagerly shop the Green Market and have my favorite farmers that do not spray their produce. I turn my nose up at kosher foods that mimic non-kosher items at the expense of integrity of ingredients. So, what am I going to do to appease my own guilt for my reckless use of disposables?

With Earth Day just a few days away (April 22) I made some resolutions for myself:

• I will no longer purchase flowers for myself or anyone else that have been sprayed (OY!-I did send a flower arrangement during the chag). Flowers grown without pesticides and herbicides are better for the environment and for the recipient of the flowers—who wants all those chemicals in your home?

• No more disposables that harm the environment. Any disposables I need can be found in an expensive, but earth saving, bamboo product. Better yet, I will use what I already own. Eco-shopping is still shopping and has an impact on the planet.

• Less meat consumption. I eat a lot of meat. What can I say—I am a chef and I know how to make it taste good! But, methane is produced by all those scrumptious farm animals and is a big no-no for the environment.

• I am going to cut out my favorite bottled Italian sparkling water and let my tap flow. This will be tough—I love those bubbles. So refreshing! But tap water with sliced cucumbers and fresh mint is lovely too.

• I am going to do some foraging this spring. It is ramp season in Illinois. Ramps are wild leeks and are pungently delicious sautéed in butter and tossed with pasta.

So let’s end this unburdening session with a Pasta Primavera recipe. This recipe is written to include only in-season vegetables—what the dish is supposed to be.

These are some of the new steps I am going to take to rid myself of my frivolous use of resources. Maybe there is something on this list you can do. Or perhaps you have your list and would like to share? Let me know! I am all ears.

True Pasta Primavera

1 pound whole wheat penne
1 pound fresh fava beans, shelled and skin removed* and blanched and shocked (see below)
¼ pound fresh morel mushrooms, cut in half
2 baby leeks or ramps (if available), sliced thinly
1 clove garlic, minced
½ pound fresh English peas, shelled and blanched and shocked (see below)
1 cup ricotta cheese
2 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Salt and Pepper
Parmesan cheese for garnish

1. Bring a large saucepan or stockpot of salted water to the boil. Cook the pasta until it is al dente. Drain the pasta, reserving about 1 cup of the pasta water, and transfer the pasta to a large mixing bowl.

2. Heat a small sauté pan, lightly coated with olive oil, over medium heat and sauté the morel mushrooms until they are browned and lightly crisped at the edges. Add the leeks or ramps and continue sautéing until the leeks or ramps are lightly browned (about 3 minutes). Add the garlic and sauté for another 2 minutes until the garlic has softened.

3. Toss the ingredients with the cooked pasta adding the pasta water if needed to thin out the cheese and form a sauce.

4. Season to taste with salt and freshly cracked pepper.

*Fava beans are relatively new to the US produce market. They are plump and slightly nutty flavored green shelling beans. Typically found in Italian cuisine-they are a real springtime treat. They are a bit of culinary task though.

• Open the pod that the favas grow in and pull out the beans. Bring a medium pot of water to the boil. Blanch the fava beans in the boiling water for about 3 minutes. While the beans are blanching-place a colander in a bowl filled with ice water. When the beans are blanched. Strain the beans from the boiling water and plunge them into the ice water. This is called “shocking”. The ice water will stop the cooking process and set chlorophyll which makes the beans bright green.

• Now, you can gently peel off the skin that is on the beans and reveal their tender deliciousness. The beans are now ready to eat.

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Illinois budget hole affecting the most vulnerable

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04/16/2010

Illinois budget hole photo 1

On the spiral staircase at the Governor’s Mansion.

As a high school senior, I wanted to be president. But I knew I couldn’t become president because I’m not a natural-born U.S. citizen, so I decided I could settle for at least some sort of elected official – maybe a representative or a senator.

I haven’t thought about this dream in a long time, and the last two days changed my mind completely—I’d rather stay away from public office. After all, elected officials often have to make extremely painful decisions that affect millions of lives. I’m not sure I can live with that.

I was part of a group of 40 local organizational volunteers and staff from the Jewish Federation of Metropolitan Chicago who traveled to Springfield this week to advocate for human services funding. Illinois is having a huge budget crisis, with a deficit of about 50 percent of the revenue it needs to function – roughly $13 billion! As one of the legislators put it, “if last year was doomsday, this year’s budget is doomsday on steroids.”

Illinois subcontracts private service providers – like the Jewish Federation system – to care for the state’s most vulnerable citizens. If things remain as they are, vital programs will be cut, including services to the mentally ill (4,000 people now living in residential mental health facilities are projected to be on the street on July 1), older-adult in-home care, and respite programs for children with disabilities.

Among the potential cuts is a successful demonstration program run by CJE SeniorLife. The program provides home-health aides, transportation, and other services to seniors to help keep them out of nursing homes. Prevention, as Department of Human Services Secretary Michele Saddler told us, is always the more cost-effective route. The cost of a nursing home for one person could provide about three people living at home with services. The program is poised to be cut because it is not statewide, though it has been successful for 14 years and follows the latest guidelines issued by the state.

As part of the mission, we met with both state Senate and House leaders from both sides of the aisle. We also met with some of the elected officials and their staff that represent our city. All said they felt our pain. All were embarrassed that they hadn’t done more to prevent the budget crisis.

Illinois budget hole photo 2

State Sen. Don Harmon, who represents Oak Park, greets Ann-Louise Kleper, JUF Government Affairs Domestic Affairs vice president.

Although none of our meetings produced a solution, legislators and department staff welcomed our group’s input and noted the Federation and its agencies are an important partner in providing services to and speaking for those who cannot speak for themselves.

Want to know more about the issues facing the Federation system and its services? Read my story about the trip and my tweets.

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Is my dog Jewish?

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04/15/2010

Is my dog Jewish? photo

I’ve lived around my fair share of dog lovers.

One needs only to trace some of the cities and neighborhoods I’ve lived in: Growing up in Highland Park, I saw owners dress their pets in hats, sweaters, dresses and bedazzled collars and serve their dogs in Evian-filled water dishes; in London, where I studied abroad, I found an entire Burberry-for-dogs clothing line in Harrods department store and lived across from a park filled to the brim with Sunday-afternoon dog-walkers; in Roscoe Village, where I now reside, I’ve seen dogs pushed in strollers along streets filled with dozens of pet boutiques and groomers sandwiched between maternity shops—Roscoe Village is, after all, the land of babies and dogs.

Don’t even get me started on the new trend of “barkeries”—or dog treat boutiques—that are popping up.

Yes, I’ve seen it all.

Now, here’s the part where I put my tail between my legs.

I love my family dog—so much so, that I may or may not have helped my mother pick out a sweater for him at one time to help him ruff (pun stops here) the tundra-like temperatures in our family backyard during wintertime.

Also, I may or may not spend a great deal of time analyzing his simple psyche every time I visit my parents’ house.

My mother and I have concluded that Archie, a cocker spaniel-poodle mutt born on a farm in Iowa, is Jewish.

Despite his blondish-white shaggy hair, we think this Cockapoo has got some Jew. (In an aside, I have to point out the ironic fact that we named Archie after the character Archie Bunker from “All in the Family”—one of the most blatantly anti-Semitic, racist characters in television history. However, my family loved the show.)

Like his namesake, Archie (the dog) is a simple creature. But, one thing is certain: he loves food in general, and challah and matzah in particular. On this reason alone—if nothing else—my mother and I have concluded he’s Jewish.

Archie’s reactions during Shabbat prayers provide an interesting case study in Pavlov’s theory about conditioning. He barks when my dad begins the prayer over the challah. Archie also has some separation anxiety from his mother (my mother), among other neurotic traits stereotypically associated with Jewish men. Not to mention, he commands attention with his vocal attempts to be the loudest one in the room.

Archie’s incessant barking, fueled by his desire for matzah, got my mother and I discussing his psyche yet again during our Passover Seder a few weeks ago.

After our meal, I pulled a book from my parents’ bookshelf called “Yiddish for Dogs” by Janet Perr, which  my sister bought for them years back, particularly because the drawn figure on its cover is the spitting image of Archie.

The book, a self-described alphabetical handbook of Yiddish words, features illustrations of dogs meant to embody the Yiddish words’ meanings. The book, a sort of Yiddish encyclopedia, features words such as “putz”—featuring a black lab with a dunce cap; “shvitz,” showing a pug sweating and panting; and words such as “drek,” with an image of Archie’s twin stuck in a trash can.

The level to which we project human qualities on our pets got me wondering just how far people’s attempts might extend into the spiritual realm. But my short-lived quest to see if the Jewish Paris Hiltons of the world love their pets to the degree that they might convert them was somewhat fruitless.

I contacted Congregation B’nai Torah in Highland Park, because I had worked with one of the rabbis there in the past on stories. While he was not available to comment, his assistant did reveal the synagogue had gone so far as to host a pet blessing day event in the past. However, she said she did not know of any conversions.

The event, which was geared toward children, included blessings for a variety of animals such as fish, dogs and hamsters and wished the pets health; they expressed thankfulness for the pets’ companionship, she said.

My Catholic friend Melissa Riske, whom I wrote about in my last Oy! article, informed me there is a similar ritual in the church around the first week of October, in which Catholics recognize or celebrate St. Francis of Assisi—a blessing is near his feast day.

I also contacted JUF to see if they knew of a rabbi that performed pet rituals with no luck there.

Finally, I spoke with my family’s rabbi at Anshe Emet Synagogue in Chicago, Rabbi Michael Siegel, who not only humored me, but also spoke eloquently on the matter.

Siegel said that while Jewish law covers issues regarding the proper treatment of animals—for instance, he said there has been a tremendous amount written about feeding an animal before feeding oneself—there is no conversion process for animals or pets.

However, he pointed out that with the increasingly important role pets play in people’s lives, events such as “bark mitzvahs” now exist, which he said speaks to the notion that to a growing number of people, pets have taken on a familial significance likened to children.

Siegel said people are feeling “less communal” and more “individually minded,” these days, and thus want to put original touches on a 1,000-year-old prayer book. Blessings are constantly being updated, he said.

With Holocaust Remembrance Day last weekend and Israel Memorial Day ahead of us, I’m reminded of how we, Jews, both evolve our understanding of present day culture, while remembering ancient tales.

We both recycle and re-invent what it means to be Jewish, reflected both in the tales of our destruction and in our re-building.

So, though I didn’t find a rabbi who would officially convert Archie, or any other dog, I learned that perhaps it is not such a small gesture to take time to recognize our pets through Jewish ritual, because we are reinforcing and celebrating our Jewish identity in doing so. Plus, I’m pretty convinced Archie is already Jewish anyway.

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Walking to save “The Girls,” Part IV

 Permanent link
04/14/2010

Remember reading this and this and this last year?

Walking to save “The Girls,” Part IV photo 2

For 2 days, we walk as one

Well, we’re at it again with a new team name— Booby Trap— and a few fresh faces!  We’re once again fundraising and training to walk 39 miles in the fight to eradicate breast cancer.  The disease has touched all of our lives in different ways— my mom is a breast cancer survivor.  I don't think it would be out of line for me to guess— with 1 in 8 women diagnosed with breast cancer— that almost everyone knows someone who has been affected by this disease.

So far training has been going pretty well.  My new year’s resolution to discover (and use) the weight room at my gym has been a success and I’m in much better shape going into things this year— my knees are grateful.  Still, I think this my last time participating in this amazing event.  Fundraising is difficult, especially in this economy, and finding enough free time to spend several hours walking is a pain in the butt (and legs).  I’m grateful I’m able to participate and I’m savoring every experience— I can’t wait for the actual event!

I encourage everyone to find a cause that’s near and dear to their hearts— whether it’s a 2-day walk, a 5k, or even a marathon— and give it a try.  The sense of fulfillment and pride is worth every second of the pain and discomfort and it’s a great way to stay motivated and get in shape.  Right Ron?  If you’re interested, here’s the information about the Avon 2 day breast cancer walk: http://www.avonwalk.org/.

Now for a little team promotion— booby trap is hosting a fundraiser this year to help us raise some extra dollars— and we’d love to pack the place with as many supporters as possible.  So if you’re looking for a fun way to do a good deed, come join us for a night to save the boobies!  Here are the details:

On June 5 and 6, with blisters, sweat, and tears, Team Booby Trap will conquer 39 long miles in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer.  In order to help us reach our fundraising goal, join us for a wild night of booze and live music featuring vocal group Fiveplay!  The fundraiser will take place at John Barleycorn in Lincoln Park (658 West Belden Avenue) at 7:30 p.m.  If you're up for letting loose on a Thursday night, $30 will get you an awesome wristband and an open bar.  If you don’t want to participate in the open bar, admission is just $20.  With both options, you will get to hear one of the greatest vocal groups in Chicago.  Here's a taste of what's to come:  www.fiveplaymusic.com .  It's going to be an awesome show, and the best part is that $10 of every ticket will benefit Team Booby Trap’s fundraising goal of $11,000.

Walking to save “The Girls,” Part IV photo 3

Vocal group Fiveplay

Hope to see you there and I’ll be sure to update you on how our team does— fingers crossed we all make it through that big pink finish line!

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Desperate Deerfield-to-the-Loop Commuter

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04/13/2010

Dear Mayor Daley,

As you know, traffic in our windy city really blows.  Yet thousands of commuters daily opt to sit stuck in traffic behind the wheel versus taking public transportation, exacerbating the problem and costing Metra and CTA millions in lost revenue.  And you want to know why?  Because for all of the perks of public transit—being able to read, relax, reliability, etc.—there are people—seat hogs, loud talkers—who ruin the commuting experience for others.

While most Chicagoans are pretty darn polite, a few rotten apples are ruining the bunch.  If the city could work to curtail their rude behavior, I believe more people would opt for public transportation.  Below, I have taken the liberty of listing what I believe are the worst offenses and suggested appropriate measures to tackle the offense.  I hope that you will consider these issues and solutions.

On behalf of commuters everywhere who are daily confronted with these issues, I urge you to propose the required laws and ordinances to effectively deal with these challenges and would make my life—errr, I mean the lives of millions of Chicagoans—better.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Desperate Deerfield-to-the-Loop Commuter

1. Uber-Slow Walking.  There are slow walkers, and then there are people whose pace can only be described as slow motion.  Usually, these people can be found waddling in the middle of the sidewalk so that it is impossible to get around them.  I propose separate lanes on sidewalks created for uber-slow walkers.  Offenders caught in the wrong lane should be fined.  Repeat offenders should be publically flogged by citizens who have missed their buses/trains and been late because the slow walker failed to stay in their “lane.”  (Note: this law should especially apply to tourists who should also be barred from public transportation during rush hours.)

2. Uber-Fast and Aggressive Walking.  Too many innocent citizens have been the victims of these people who walk at a pace that defies the laws of physics.  They often have no regard for people in their way, including 9 months pregnant women who are waddling as fast as their swollen feet will carry them.  (I suspect many offenders have lost their driver’s licenses for too many accidents or aggressive driving are now must take out their hostility on pedestrians.)  I suggest speed-walking limits posted throughout the city and officers who can hand out tickets. Repeat offenders should be forced to walk up and down the Magnificent Mile during peak tourist season.

3. Public Snoring.  In my humble opinion, being able to sleep on the way to or from work is one of the perks of not driving.  But a peaceful commute is rudely interrupted by those who snore—and by snore I mean make sounds like a cat going down a garbage disposal (ewww).  I propose a law that requires snorers to use nasal breathe strips (bought from the city of course), or citizens should be given the right to roll snorers onto their sides or stomachs.

4. Uber-Loud Talking.  Too many citizens have had to listen to the boring conversations and personal stories of loud talkers.  I would like to see “silent” buses/train cars introduced—where no talking is allowed.  I’d be willing to pay additional to ride these buses/trains.

5. Excessive Flatulence.  Nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, ruins a commute more than someone in near proximity repeatedly dropping stink bombs.  This is a complex problem that requires a multiple solution approach.  First, emergency gas masks should be made available on all public transit.  Second, industrial air fresheners should be placed behind glass for major emergencies.  And third, I suggest a detection device—similar to systems in pools that identify urine—that could identify the culprit.  This would help deter this behavior and also ensure that those who did not drop the bomb would not be accused.

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The foggy path of womanhood

 Permanent link
04/09/2010

From our health to childbearing to careers, being a woman today is confusing. With so many conflicting messages, the path of womanhood is foggy, even for a feminist like me.

Let’s start with health. Women are scared to death of breast cancer even though more women die from cardiovascular disease and lung cancer.

And although women are careful about breast screenings, new guidelines from the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force recommends that women in their 40s not get mammograms and women in their 50s get one every two years. Yet other experts disagree. Meanwhile, recommended frequency of the Pap Smear is another area of contention, for decades, it has been commonly practiced medicine to schedule annual tests to check for cervical cancer. Now, the recommendation from the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists is for women in their 20s to get a Pap every two years instead of annually.

Don’t spend too much time in the sun is another recommendation. But now men, women and children are becoming Vitamin D deficient. So take Vitamin D every day? Is that enough? It seems like Vitamin D deficiencies cause a lot of problems. How do we weigh that against getting skin cancer?

Should our diet be low fat or low carbohydrate? Can eating Cheerios actually cure your high cholesterol? What’s the difference between good and bad cholesterol? What are the long term effects of high cholesterol that includes mostly good cholesterol? And if I eat non-organic food, will I grow another eye? Will my grandchildren?

How much do women need to exercise? The latest recommendations after a study by conducted by Brigham and Women’s Hospital and Harvard Medical School is for women to exercise 60 minutes per day; prior to that, the guideline was 30 minutes.

First of all, and I don’t even have kids, who has 60 minutes a day to exercise? How do you fit it in? And how do you know if you’re fat anyways? Is it the BMI? Is it the skinny jeans test? (Can my butt fit into them?) And now women are supposed to exercise while they are pregnant to have a healthy baby. Exercise will help so that the baby shouldn’t be too big or too small. And when the baby is born, breastfeed for a year, no matter what, and don’t let your baby get too fat or he/she will be obese and have a high risk of developing Type 2 Diabetes.

In terms of relationships, women are told to wait for Mr. Right (unless you are Lori Gottlieb who wrote the book, "Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough.”) In reality, after the age of 35, the ability to reproduce becomes much more difficult and carries more risks. Many women pull it off, but how realistic is it to expect that if we don’t have kids before the age 35 that we ever will? Should we freeze our eggs? What should we do? One might argue you don’t need a husband or wife to have kids. But let’s get real here. It’s very hard to be a single mom. Nothing against single moms, I think you’re awesome. But it’s extremely difficult to have a child with no partner in the picture.

Let’s say you are a woman who is married with kids. Should you work or not work? Most likely you have to work, because you can’t afford not to. But what about women who want to raise a family and not work? With one out of two marriages ending in divorce, that sounds like Russian Roulette to economists and sociologist. What does a woman do if she has not kept up her skill set and her husband leaves her or vice versa?

My point is not to question the validity of the studies, but to say that it’s extremely difficult as a woman to determine the answers.

If I’ve made you anxious, come up with a list of questions to address with your doctor, financial advisor, Rabbi, and social worker.

Good luck navigating the waters. I’ll be swimming alongside you.

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The Great Rabbino chats with Tani Mintz, speedskater and Olympic hopeful

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04/07/2010

Tani Mintz photo

The Great Rabbino has had the pleasure of interviewing a variety of Jewish athletes— professional wrestlers, major league baseball players, and sports broadcasters. Today I bring you an interview with Tani Mintz, a speedskater who is trying to qualify for the Olympics. Tani is an old friend of mine from way back in the day. Besides being a great athlete, she is a nice Jewish girl. Below is my interview with her:

The Great Rabbino: Tell us a little bit about yourself and how you got involved with speedskating?
Tani Mintz: My name is Netanya Shira Mintz, I’m 25 years old, and am extremely proud to say I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois. I went to private Jewish school my whole life until junior year of high school when I switched to public school. Athletics and sports have always been essential in my life. I was a diehard Michael Jordan fan since I can remember. (The two of us even used to hang out at the Multiplex when the Bulls practiced there! OK, maybe not hang out, but he knew my name and I hugged his knee.) In junior high I played basketball and ran track. I also ran track at the Maccabi Games in 1998 and 2001 and earned a total of 12 medals: 3 bronze, 5 silver, and 4 gold. And in 1999 I played basketball at the Maccabi Games, and despite having a team of 6 (yes, 6 players total on our team!), we finished in a strong 4th place.

I started speedskating much later in life relative to other speedskaters. When I was 17 my family and I went to Salt Lake City for the 2002 Olympics. We all had tickets to see alpine skiing events because we are a family of skiers, but I really wanted to see a short track speed skating event as well. Admittedly, I totally bought into the Apolo Ohno hype and was super excited at the opportunity to see him live. It was at the Delta Center one night during the Olympics, watching Apolo win the gold that changed my life forever. I knew I wanted to be a part of the Olympics. Now that I had experienced what it was to be a part of the crowd, feeding off the athletes the energy, I wanted to taste it for myself. I decided I would be an Olympian one day. I would pursue speedskating the second I got home to Chicago, and I would somehow make it happen.

TGR: What was in like to try out for the Olympics?
TM: When I first began speed skating in 2002 the thought of competing in Olympic Trials was right up there on the “cool” meter behind actually competing in the Olympics. I remember the day in 2005 when I qualified to skate in the 2006 Olympic Trials. It was a blur of emotion because it didn’t sink in when I crossed the line and saw my qualifying time. It didn’t even sink in when I told myself “Hey, you just qualified to skate in the 2006 US Speedskating Olympic Trials.” It sunk in when my coach skated by me and said, “Congratulations. You will be skating in Olympic Trials.” What takes many skaters a decade or more of hard work to accomplish took me a short four years – albeit a daily routine of intensive training, full-time schoolwork, and a little Starbucks on the side, but a short four years nonetheless.

Two months later in December, I skated my fastest races ever at the 2006 US Speedskating Olympic Trials. Not fast enough to make the team, but that didn’t matter (well, I can say that now, of course at the time I was a little disappointed). It didn’t matter because I realized sometime during that competition that I truly was capable of fulfilling my Olympic dreams. I had just proved to myself that hard work and dedication will lead you to success. As long as I was in control of my life the Olympic Games would be mine one day. The 2006 Olympic Trials was just another opportunity to gain some competitive experience, so that next time I would be even more prepared.

Fast forward four years later and I’m at the starting line of the 2010 US Speedskating Olympic Trials. The past four years had felt the most uncertain and unstable of my life. The only thing I learned to expect from life was the unexpected. Having only known a world of constants and stability, I decided to redirect my path along one with more certain outcomes. I retired from speedskating in 2007 and pursued law school. Slowly but surely the competitive fire came back and with a vengeance. After being accepted to a couple law schools, I decided to put that avenue on hold and come back to speed skating. In September of 2008, I moved to Utah to train with no expectations of qualifying for any national, let alone international, competitions the next couple years. Three weeks later I qualified for every single national competition between September 2008 and March of 2010… including the 2010 US Olympic Trials. I also finished 3rd overall. Again, I didn’t place high enough or skate fast enough to make the Olympic Team, but I did renew my sense of confidence that the Olympics will be mine… next time.

TGR: Are you hopefully for 2014?
TM: Yes.

TGR: What do you do in when you are not skating?
TM: I don’t train on Thursdays and Sundays, so those are the days I usually work 5:30 a.m.-2:00 p.m. at Starbucks. (Yes, on my off days I wake up at 5 a.m.) To be honest though, Starbucks doesn’t feel like a job. It’s my social life! And there’s no better place to be at 5:30 a.m. than a coffee shop. And when I’m not at Starbucks or training I’m devoting all of my attention to the cutest, cuddliest, and craziest puppy in the world – Capone.

TGR: What are some of the coolest/most interesting experiences you have had because of skating?
TM: Another loaded question! Where to begin? I remember my first race in Salt Lake City. I was trying to qualify for the 2003 Junior Nationals. My best shot was in the 1000m. I signed up for time trials that weekend. Saturday rolls around and I take a look at the pair sheet. Chris Witty – Inner Lane, Netanya Mintz – Outer Lane. Are you kidding me? My first race ever in Salt Lake City and I’m paired with the Olympic gold medalist and world record holder in the 1000m? How cool and ridiculous was that? I told myself, “Just keep her in your line of vision and you know you’ll be having a good race!” She did stay in my line of vision (barely), but I just missed the qualifying time by a couple seconds. Oh well! Cool experience!

Speedskating also took me to Torino, Italy in 2007 for the World University Games. Skating on another Olympic track (even if it was a year late!), was very inspirational. Not to mention the cool opening ceremonies I participated in that felt like a mini-version of what to expect some years down the road…

But probably the most interesting experience I’ve had because of speed skating actually has nothing to do with, well, speed skating. In 2005 Starbucks began an Elite Athlete Program. Long story short, I became their sponsored athlete. When I retired from speed skating in 2007 I asked Starbucks to please keep me involved in any future endeavors they pursue regarding health and wellness. Passion for my sport may have dwindled, but passion for maintaining a healthy lifestyle never has and never will. Starbucks realized my dedication to health and wellness and in May of 2008 called on me to participate in the Nike+ 10k Human Race – a race held on August 31, 2008, hosted in 25 cities around the world to benefit three global charities. They wanted me to be Chicago’s ambassador to the program. Starbucks partnered with Nike in promoting the race, and Starbucks assigned me the duty of getting as many people in Chicago to run the race as possible. Through micro-chipped bracelets and shoe sensors and Nike+ iPods, Chicago racked up the most miles out of the 40 U.S. cities participating in the Starbucks’ competition. Because my city won, Starbucks selected me to fly with Nike on their privately chartered Air New Zealand jet to Melbourne, Australia on August 29, 2008, to run the race on August 31 at 8:31 a.m., and then I immediately jump back on the jet and flew to LA to run the last leg of the worldwide race beginning at 8:31 p.m. This all took place in one day. Totally awesome one-of-a-kind never to be duplicated again experience!

TGR: What will life look like after skating?
TM: What will life look like after skating? First, can I focus on what life will look like tomorrow? I have no idea what’s in store for me post-speed skating. I’m sure furthering my education is in my future somewhere. And as of now I intend on settling down in Chicago again, one day… one day… But ah… so many, many things to do before I can commit to one plan, one career, one city.

TGR: Has Judaism ever played a role in your sport? Has there ever been a conflict?
TM: The biggest conflict I experience regarding Judaism and my commitment to training happens only on Yom Kippur. I’ve never been shomer shabbos, so racing on a Saturday morning has never been an issue for me. But since I began speedskating Yom Kippur has always been the one holiday where I feel most connected to my religion. This is probably because while training I am unable to properly acknowledge the Holy Day – the full 24 hours is a constant reminder of what Jewish laws I am not obeying for the sake of pursuing my dreams. Although friends and family would never judge me for the religious decisions I make, especially on Yom Kippur, I can’t help but judge myself. I guess, ironically, Yom Kippur ends up being exactly what it is meant to be— a day of atonement. I constantly question my decisions on Yom Kippur and battle with myself whether to forego training that morning to go to synagogue, or to stay on track and not lose sight of my goal— not even for a mere few hours at synagogue once a year. Training has always won that battle, but at the heavy expense of extreme guilt the days leading up to and the day of Yom Kippur.

TGR: You are from Chicago, so what are some of your favorite spots to skate, dine, and hang out?
TM: I love this question: ESPN Zone. Niketown. Millenium Park. Whether I’m home for a week or just a day, these three Chicago landmarks are essential to every visit. Ahhhh… thinking about them now makes me feel nostalgic.

If you want to support Netanya for the 2014 Olympics you can email her at netanyamintz@gmail.com.
Thanks to Tani. Best of luck.

And Let Us Say…Amen.
-Jeremy Fine

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Dr. G. tackles the tough questions

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04/02/2010

Dr. G. tackles the tough questions photo

Do you have a friend that works out a little too much? What about a super skinny-mini friend that complains her non-existent butt is too big? And we all have at least one family member that’s a calorie counting, label reading, point tracking, lifelong dieter. Jokes aside, body image issues are on the rise, so I interviewed an expert, Kate Goldhaber, PhD. A licensed clinical psychologist who works as a staff psychotherapist at Chicago Behavioral Health, LLC, and is an affiliate therapist at The Family Institute at Northwestern University, Dr. Goldhaber works with adolescents, adults, couples and families. She has expertise in treating depression, anxiety, body image, weight, and eating disorders. I had a chance to chat with Dr. Goldhaber about body image and food addiction issues:

Ron Krit: Why do so many people think they are fat when they are not?
Dr. G: Probably because our beauty ideals are so unrealistic. Beautiful women in the media are typically underweight (often meet criteria for anorexia) and airbrushed. Consequently, women begin to associate beauty with perfection. When they don't measure up, they begin to denigrate their bodies and develop unrelenting dissatisfaction. It's not just the media who are to blame, though. Unfortunately women internalize these standards and subject themselves and their peers to them. Research has found that women are much harsher critics of weight and shape than men are.

Dr. G. tackles the tough questions photo 2

Dr. Goldhaber

What are ways to improve your body image? 
The first thing is to become an educated consumer. You have to understand that the beauty industry is designed to make you feel bad about your looks so that you will consume products ranging from diet pills to "slimming" clothes and plastic surgeries. Advertisements are designed to manipulate you, so be aware of that and check your reactions. Similarly, fight the urge to emulate the models and instead support "normal" women and reinforce natural beauty. The industry won't change if women keep supporting it.

Second, try to think of your body as something other than a beauty object. Your body is functional! Focus on its utility and fitness. Think about becoming strong and healthy rather than simply attractive. Along those lines, think about eating for fuel and functionality. Healthful food doesn't just mean low calorie. What does your body crave, and what will help you feel strong, healthy and energized?

Third, try to recondition yourself to think positively, or at least neutrally, about your body. Practice taking a non-judgmental stance about perceived "problem areas" by generating descriptive rather than evaluative terms. For example, if you feel negatively about your stomach, try generating descriptions such as "round" or "soft" to replace negative evaluations such as "flabby." Then, when you find yourself using the negative words, mentally override them with the neutral or positive ones. This process can actually change your thinking and emotions over time.

Why is important to see yourself in a positive light?
You could be in "perfect" shape according to fitness and/or beauty standards, but if you are still unsatisfied with yourself it will negatively impact your psychological adjustment, social functioning, sexual functioning, and relationship quality. In other words, your perception of yourself is more important to your functioning than any "real" or "objective" assessment of your body. When women lose weight but retain a negative body image, they may receive positive feedback from others but have trouble truly taking it in.

This is similar to what you said about viewing yourself in a positive light, but can you discuss how viewing yourself as the “fat friend” or the “fat one in the family” is damaging to weight loss? 
It sounds like what you are talking about is particular roles and patterns that people can get into. If you are dissatisfied with your appearance, you might focus more on other strengths and identities such as your intelligence, humor, creativity, etc. When you lose weight or make changes in appearance, it can be disorienting to receive different kinds of feedback or attention from people. You might feel uncomfortable and unprepared when receiving positive attention for your appearance. You might doubt whether others genuinely like you, or are instead responding to superficial changes. You might even resent people who give you attention and think that they should have found you appealing before you altered your appearance. All of these thoughts and expectations can complicate the process of changing and maintaining weight loss. It might feel easier to continue in the roles that you have established.

What is food addiction/How do you know if you have that problem?
This is a difficult question. When we consider whether people are addicted to other substances, the criteria usually involve developing tolerance and dependency, structuring your life around obtaining the substance, etc.  In that sense, all humans are addicted to food! We need it to survive, and we quickly go into withdrawal without food or liquids.  When people talk about food addiction or having an unhealthy relationship with food, I think they're typically referring to eating (or not eating) for the "wrong" reasons. That is, instead of eating when hungry and stopping when full, they eat due to social or emotional cues. For example, some people use food for emotional soothing - hence the term "comfort food." If you often have the experience of eating when you're not hungry, feeling dissociated (amnesia eating) or out of control while eating, and feel confused or regretful about it afterwards, you might be an emotional eater. In this case, it's useful to identify alternative strategies for dealing with your emotions.

If you have any tough questions for Dr. Goldhaber, let me know and I will pass them on.

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Kosher and delicious for Passover and every other day

 Permanent link
03/29/2010

Kosher and delicious for Passover photo

One sure sign that spring has sprung is the plethora of Passover products that start appearing on grocery store shelves. Each year I look forward to checking out what new foodstuffs were invented. Usually these products are meant to counterfeit their non-Passover counterparts. Each year I hold my own personal contest to see what the strangest and most Pesadich-y thing will be. Last year I was thrilled and simultaneously disgusted by the Pesadich soy sauce. I saved the bottle and put it in my cabinet just to remind myself of how scary food can get. I wrote last year about my friend Karen and her favorite find of the neon faux Passover mustard. We both thrilled to the thought of faux mustard on faux bread!

Well, that mustard and soy sauce are so last year. I found something that trumps all the ersatz foods out there. The new crop of Passover substitutes includes a product called Mac & Cheez. There is neither Mac (pasta) even of the Passover kind nor is there Cheese or Cheez. The product is pareve and the pasta is made from tapioca. It is nutritionally empty; there is not one vitamin in it. I bought a box and put it right next to my soy sauce and there it shall stay as a reminder of how bad faux food can get.

There is something really great that we can use for Passover. It is delicious, all natural and minimally processed. All Extra Virgin Olive Oil is kosher all year round and that includes Passover. The savvy Passover shopper is buying great olive oil this year.

Olive oil is the fruit oil obtained from the olive. Commonly used in cooking, cosmetics, soaps and fuel for lamps, olive oil is grown and used throughout the world but especially in the Mediterranean.

Olive oil is produced by grinding or crushing and extracting the oil. A green olive produces bitter oil and an overripe olive produces rancid oil. For great extra virgin olive oil it is essential to have olives that are perfectly ripened.

Purchasing olive oil and knowing how to use it can be confusing. Add to that, the kashrut factor and it is no wonder that consumers and home cooks are bewildered by the array of products on supermarket and specialty market shelves.

Here is a summary of olive oils and their uses:

Extra-virgin olive oil (EVOO) comes from virgin oil production only and contains no more than 0.8 percent acidity. Extra Virgin olive oil accounts for less than 10 percent of oil in many oil producing countries. The superior fruity flavor makes this oil best used for vinaigrettes, drizzling on soups and pastas for added richness and a fruity taste for dipping breads and vegetables. Extra virgin olive oil does not require hashgacha (even for Pesach) as it is cold pressed.

Virgin olive oil comes from virgin oil production only and has acidity less than 2 percent. This oil is best used for sautéing and for making vinaigrettes. It is generally not as expensive as the extra virgin olive oil but has a good taste. This oil does require hashgacha.

Pure olive oil. Oils so labeled are usually a blend of refined and virgin production oil. This oil is perfect for sautéing. It does not have a strong flavor and can be used for making aiolis and cooking. This oil does require hashgacha.

Extra virgin olive oil is the highest quality olive oil. It is typically more expensive than other olive oils. Extra virgin olive oil is typically not recommended for high heat cooking. Every oil has its smoke point. A smoke point refers to the heat temperature at which the oil begins to break down and degrade. Oil that is above its smoke point not only has nutritional and flavor degradation but can also reach a flash point where combustion can occur. You can observe this when you have a very hot pan and hot oil and food are added to the pan and they produce a bluish and acrid smelling smoke or worse yet, catch fire.

Extra virgin olive oil has a very low smoke point of 375 degrees. I use my best extra virgin olive oil for making vinaigrettes, adding luxurious fruity flavor to pasta dishes, garnishing foods and dipping breads. When I am high heat sautéing or frying, I tend to reach for pure olive oil or a different type of oil.

Extra virgin olive oil has a long list of health benefits from reducing coronary artery disease, cholesterol regulation and possibly reducing risk of certain cancers. This makes the decision for using extra virgin olive oil a no-brainer.

The bigger decision is which oil to buy. Most of the world’s extra virgin olive oil comes from the Southern Mediterranean countries. I favor organic, unfiltered Spanish oil. I also like estate grown products as I know that a farmer fretted over the olives and the weather. Many mass-produced oils are made not from a single source or farm and the flavor can be uneven and harsh.

When cooking for Passover and for every meal, I recommend whole, natural ingredients. I never go to the dark side of cooking with products that are loaded with laboratory made ingredients and faux flavors or colors. For this holiday and everyday—let’s keep it real.

Poached Halibut in Olive Oil

I remember the first time I watched a chef/friend poach fish in olive oil. It was one of those moments when the light bulb goes off! The fish cooks through with a gentle heat transfer and gains the delicate olive oil flavor. The fish is moist and really luscious! Enjoy the fish hot or cold.

4 cups olive oil
4 6-ounce halibut filets-skinned and boned
1 whole head of garlic cut in half
6 thyme sprigs
1 rosemary sprig

Preheat oven to 275.

1. Place the olive oil into a large oven proof dish. Cover the fish with olive oil ¾ of the way. Add the garlic and herbs. Cover the fish directly with a piece of parchment paper.
2. Poach the fish until firm and completely translucent (about 15 minutes). Gently remove the fish and discard the garlic and herbs. Strain the oil and refrigerate covered. The oil can be used to poach fish again and will keep for up to 2 weeks.

Parsley sauce with Extra Virgin Olive Oil

2 large bunches of flat leaf parsley, leaves trimmed off (reserve the stems for stock making)
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Place a large sauté pan over medium high heat. Lightly coat the bottom of the pan with olive oil. Sear the parsley for about 2 minutes until it is bright green and slightly wilted.
2. Place the parsley and extra virgin olive oil in a blender and process until the sauce has a smooth consistency. Salt and pepper to taste

Chocolate Mousse with Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Passover used to mean a hiatus from good chocolate. Recently there have been several new companies that have introduced kosher for Passover high end chocolate. I like to sprinkle my mousse with sea salt as a garnish. The sparkly flavor of the salt enhances the fruitiness of the olive oil and the chocolate.

7 ounces bittersweet chocolate (must be at least 70 percent cacao)
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
⅓ cup brewed coffee
4 eggs separated
⅔ cup powdered sugar (kosher for Passover)
⅓ cup brewed coffee
1 vanilla bean scraped

1. Melt the chocolate and cool to room temperature. Mix in the olive oil and coffee and set aside.
2. Combine the yolks and powdered sugar and whisk until foamy, add the chocolate mixture.
3. Beat the whites to stiff peaks; fold the whites into the chocolate.
4. Pour into a 9-ich cake pan or loaf pan lined with plastic wrap and chill 8 hours or freeze for 3 hours. Unmold onto a serving plate and slice.

For a variation I like to sprinkle coarse sea salt onto the top of the mousse. The sea salt brings out the fruitiness of the olive oil and the chocolate.

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‘Bubbe, Bubbe, make me a match’

 Permanent link
04/01/2010

‘Bubbe, Bubbe, make me a match’ photo 1

After I graduated from Miami of Ohio with a degree in psychology, I began working as a Life Enrichment Coordinator at The Weinberg Community in Deerfield, Illinois. I had just moved to Chicago, and of course, I was looking for a nice Jewish boy. My father kept saying, “I’m sure one of the bubbes will set you up with their grandsons.”

On a daily basis, I would kibbitz with the residents at Gidwitz Place and Friend Center, and they’d say their grandsons were menches. A typical conversation began with, “Oy, do I have a grandson for you!” They each raved about how handsome, smart and tall their grandsons were. I was flattered, but not really drawn to any of these matchmaking efforts.

I established many meaningful relationships with the residents both at Gidwitz Place and Friend Center. But, the relationship I had with Esther was very special. She was a yenta, and we talked everyday. One day, Esther informed me that she had a grandson who would be perfect for me, but unfortunately, he was still a senior in college. To appease her, I told her to let me know when he graduated.

A year passed, thinking Esther had forgotten about making a match, I didn’t expect her to find me and say “My grandson just moved to Chicago, you need to meet him. Take his number.” I was caught off guard but, I thought to myself, what do I have to lose if I contact him?

That evening, I looked him up on Facebook. I could not believe how cute he was. Bubbe was right! I sent him an email, and we talked back and forth for a couple of weeks over email and the phone. Eventually, we decided to meet up in a group of friends. From that first encounter we’ve never been apart.

On October 30, 2009, Danny and I went to visit some friends in Denver and Boulder. Colorado had just had a huge snowstorm so hiking didn’t seem so appealing to me, but Danny insisted we hike up the flat irons. While up the mountain, Danny swung me around and got down on one knee and surprised me with a proposal! It was the most beautiful moment of our lives.

‘Bubbe, Bubbe, make me a match’ photo 2

We have found our beshert. We’ll always be grateful to Esther and her special eye that brought us together.

Emily Langendorf, from Urbana, will be graduating this spring with an MSW from the University of Illinois-Chicago. Langendorf and Daniel Mysel plan to marry in the fall in Evanston.

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Colt Cabana’s picks for Wrestlemania 26

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03/26/2010

Colt Cabana photo

Oy!’s Jeremy Fine, a.k.a The Great Rabbino, caught up with Colt Cabana, Chicago native and Jewish wrestler, to get his picks for this year’s Wrestlemania. Colt has been traveling the country wrestling and performing his comedy. Big thanks and shout out to the funniest man in the wrestling business:

Colt Cabana: Hello all my fellow Heebs. It's me, you're favorite Jewish WWE wrestler of all time, formerly Scotty Goldman, Colt "Boom Boom" Cabana.

Currently I'm traveling around the world as a professional wrestler and semi-professional comedian. I can be seen every Monday night wrestling for  Ring of Honor  (ROH) on HDNet.

This weekend I'm going to be having three giant shows in Phoenix, Arizona. Friday and Saturday will be a great ROH doubleshot and Saturday night I'll be on stage telling wrestling jokes with Mick Foley for Total Extreme Comedy (totalextremecomedy.com). The biggest event of the weekend though, of course, is WWE's WRESTLEMANIA 26.

Jeremy Fine, The Great Rabbino himself, gave me a call. He wanted to know if I could bless all his fine fans with my Wrestlemania 26 picks. I consider it a mitzvah to do it—all I ask is you don't blame me when you lose all your gelt money when I get the picks wrong! Here you go...

WWE Unified Tag Team Title Match
John Morrison & R-Truth vs. The Miz & Big Show
CC: I think this one's easy. Morrison & Truth have kinda just been thrown together. I think they've done a great job on TV lately though trying to tell you that they're a legitimate team, but a strong bet would be SHOWMIZ for the win.

Money in the Bank Ladder Match
Dolph Ziggler vs. Kane vs. Christian vs. Shelton Benjamin vs. MVP vs.Jack Swagger vs. Matt Hardy vs. Evan Bourne vs. Drew McIntyre vs. Kofi Kingston
CC: I'd love for it to be my old roomie, Evan Bourne. He's definitely gonna be the highlight of this match in many ways. In my mind it's a toss up between Christian and McIntyre. Since they're pushing Drew as the "star of tomorrow," I'm gonna say Drew McIntyre wins and makes his push as the next WWE champion.

Triple H vs. Sheamus
CC: Sheamus doesn't stand a chance. HHH by a landslide.

Triple Threat Match
Randy Orton vs. Cody Rhodes vs. Ted DiBiase
CC: Some interesting ways to think [about]this one. I would hope that Ted DiBiase would get a solid definitive win here and establish himself as the next breakout star. Unfortunately, I've got a feeling Randy Orton beats them both up the whole match and then grabs himself an easy Wrestlemania victory.

WWE Title Match
John Cena vs. Batista
CC: I wanna make a lot of funny jokes about this one, but I won’t. I'm gonna say John Cena stands tall at the end of this one.

World Heavyweight Title Match
Edge vs. Chris Jericho
CC: Edge has really never won the title in a straight up fashion. I think at Wrestlemania 26, Edge gets his first clean championship win. SPEAR!

Career vs. Streak Match
Shawn Michaels vs. The Undertaker
CC: I think Undertaker's not quite ready to give his streak up. Shawn will "retire," go vacation in Hawaii, and come back with Marty Jannetty for one last Rockers Reunion.

No Holds Barred Match
Bret Hart vs. Vince McMahon
CC: Bret with a Sharpshooter.

Street Fight
CM Punk vs. Rey Mysterio
If Mysterio loses, he must join the Straight Edge Society.
CC: I look forward to this one as it's my boy Punk's first high profile Wrestlemania match. Punk's going to win and Mysterio will join the straight edge society.

Those are my picks. Maybe they'll be right on, maybe they'll suck.
Let me know on TWITTER at @DRColtCabana.

Enjoy all of Wrestlemania weekend and if you're out there, stop by either TXC or ROH and say hi.
Thanks
COLT

And Let Us Say...Amen.
-Jeremy Fine

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Cheers! Chicago: The Passover edition

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03/25/2010

Cheers! Chicago: The Passover edition photo

We are approaching the time of year when families come together around the table to celebrate our freedom and the receiving of the Ten Commandments from Mount Sinai. To celebrate this milestone, we are instructed by our rabbis and sages of old to congregate, pray, recline and rejoice. We also set aside a cup of—you guessed it, what else?—wine for Elijah the prophet, to facilitate the coming of the Messiah. We long for all of us to one day gather in Jerusalem and celebrate our faith as a nation.

I always look forward to Passover with my family. Each year, we get together for a typical Seder, complete with a full Seder plate, white tablecloth, fine china and a lavish cuisine filled with brisket and charoset. And every year, my father, knowing how much we children love to spend over three hours eating dinner and talking about serious subjects, makes a concerted effort to draw current events or phenomena into our family discussions regarding the significance of Passover. I think it’s a great way to draw all of us into the discussion and keep it relevant.

Growing up in a Conservative household, we kept kosher and had two sets of silverware. We actually cleaned our house of chametz for Passover. We went to services as a family…not just for the High Holidays. As kids, we went to a Jewish Day School and were immersed in the culture and tradition that surrounds the major holidays. We understood at a young age the significance of our celebrations and gatherings, our reasons for singing and reclining, and even for performing seemingly antiquated rituals. Take the ritual of spilling a drop of wine (or grape juice) from our glasses as representing a drop of blood for each plague God unleashed on the Egyptians during their captivity and enslavement. Of course, as a bartender it’s always tough to see a guest spill any part of a cocktail that you have carefully constructed; however, in this case we are doing it deliberately, to remind us of the terrible suffering that ensued.

Less observant Jews and even non-Jews always ask me, “Why do you observe so closely? Why go through all the trouble of keeping kosher? Why do you celebrate these holidays? Why go to a nearly four hour service in a language not your own?” I always used to answer, “Because my parents said so,” or “Just because,” or even “I’m not really sure,” but now as an adult I know why I spill my merlot ten times. I know why we eat unleavened bread and mix it with bitter herbs and horseradish. I see why the rabbis instructed us to recline and rejoice amidst a story of great suffering and sadness. Out of this suffering and destruction on both sides comes forth the greatest gift God could give us (besides life and wine, of course)—the sacred commandments and laws by which all men and women can lead a good, full and happy life.

So this year, when you’re reclining at the Seder with whomever you are blessed to share it with, remember why we do these things, that we are all part of something greater, that many before us fought with their hearts, minds and bodies so that we may enjoy and celebrate everything we as Jews hold dear. Now, more than ever, we need to support our brothers and sisters in Israel and elsewhere in the Diaspora. We must celebrate Passover, in whatever way we know how, in order to keep their memories alive and to preserve our way of life. And if it takes ten drops of merlot to do that…bring on the wine.

Did I mention we get to drink a mandatory four glasses of wine? How awesome is that?! For your Seder tables, Kedem and Manishewitz aren’t the only kosher wines in the liquor stores. At $14 a bottle, I would guide you towards the Borgo Reale Chianti 2007 or the Dalton Shiraz 2007 at $23. If you don’t want to shop online, I encourage ALL Passover-celebrators to check out this fabulous and unique wine tasting experience tonight. Remember to let the red wine breathe a little in the glasses before drinking.

L’Chaim, and Chag Sameach!

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My Spring Break Sushi Tour of Chicago

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03/24/2010

My Spring Break Sushi Tour of Chicago photo

‘Tis the season for spring break.  Left and right, nearly everyone I know is heading somewhere, whether they are graduate students heading on exotic vacations or colleagues leaving town for Passover to avoid the stress of de-chametz-ing the kitchen.

I’m not going to Palm Springs, Florida or Israel.  I’ll be spending my glorious four days off from work during the Passover holiday on my couch, and to add insult to injury, my husband is spending his spring break in Japan, quite possibly the most far-away place he could possibly be.

While David is experiencing a “Global Immersion in Management,” schmoozing with Japanese executives (yes, I told him to yell at the Toyota execs about my defective, recalled Camry), I am stuck in Chicago, where the weather is rapidly yo-yoing from 60 degrees and sun to nearly freezing slush coming down sideways.

I decided that if I can’t go to Japan (or anywhere for that matter), I’m bringing Japan to me!  What better way to relish in my favorite carbs before eight days of eating cardboard then two straight weeks of raw fish, seaweed and soy.  And so, the sushi tour was born.

When we lived in Old Town, we always relied on a few regular sushi joints: Cafe Sushi for takeout, Shine when we went out, and the occasional venture to a new place.  In Evanston, the pattern continues – Sashimi Sashimi for takeout, Kansaku when we go out, etc.  David’s temporary disappearance gave me the perfect excuse to scarf down maki after maki with friends.

While the tour is still continuing, I thought I’d share a few favorites and poll the crowd for your recommendations as well.

I started my sushi adventure with a tried and true favorite – Rise.  Now I know that this does not follow my pre-set rules of trying new places, but Rise is never a bad idea.  There is nothing better than Rise’s Honey Roll, and many of their rolls have delicious unique touches, like their Volcano Roll with the surprise sweetness of strawberry wrapped inside.

Last week, I also went to Sushi Wabi in the West Loop.  Having heard only good things about their food, I was more than ready to join fellow Oy! blogger, Ron Krit, for a few rolls after work.  Of course, since Ron is inching toward elderly, we ate at 5:30 p.m. (can you say early bird special?) and had the place nearly to ourselves.  Being that Ron is our resident fitness fanatic, I was concerned that he would avoid anything with sauce or lecture me about brown rice and whole grains, but that was not the case at all.

We started with this incredible sashimi appetizer of tuna with truffle salt and avocado that just melted in your mouth.  Heaven.  And then we split several rolls that came out one at a time, and each one was better than the next.  Not only that, but the presentation was stunning.  I would share photos but someone (my darling husband) ran off with my camera and is letting it sit in his backpack in Japan, most likely unused.

No sense stopping there.  If David can spend five grand on a two week trip to Japan, I have rationalized that a couple hundred dollars over the course of two weeks would not break my bank.  This week, I hit two local sushi hot spots that somehow I had managed never to visit before: Wakamono on Broadway and Butterfly on Grand.

Monday and Tuesday night were both long leisurely dinners with great friends who introduced me to their favorite haunts.  I’m no Stacey Ballis but in the effort to blog about food, I’ll just say this: both restaurants are definitely worth a visit, if you haven’t already been (I think I may be the only one).  In the world of BYOB sushi, they are both top notch.

Now after four nights of Japanese cuisine in a seven day period, you think I’d be over it.  Not a chance.  Tonight, I’ll be heading to Toro Sushi in Lincoln Park with another Oy! blogger, Jacey, and if the reviews are indicative of the quality of tonight’s dinner, I know I’ll be content (and hopefully not full to the point of feeling ill – my constant fear).

Tomorrow night is still open – not sure where I’ll visit or with who.  But I’d love your suggestions – what is your favorite Japanese restaurant in Chicago?

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Seder invite for that special someone: When’s the right time?

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03/23/2010

Seder invite for that special someone photo

Is your family ready to have your special someone over for seder? Is he or she ready for them? (ThinkFilm Inc., "When Do We Eat?" / Lacey Terrell)

A few years ago I accepted an invitation to share a Passover seder at the home of my then-boyfriend's parents.

Since we were becoming more serious as a couple, I was excited to experience this penultimate sign of family acceptance. I bought a cute new dress to wear and some gourmet kosher-for-Passover chocolates for his mom. I prepped by asking for short bios on second cousins I'd be meeting for the first time and, in case I was asked, I practiced the Four Questions.

Shortly after the seder began, it became apparent that this night indeed was going to be much different from all other nights.

I learned quickly that in this family, the actions of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh could spark a hot debate on current U.S. Middle East policy. I witnessed a Haggadah reading enhanced by the insertion of several scratchy musical recordings -- a lovely albeit seder-lengthening touch. And not surprising, I discovered, no one makes kugel better than my mother.

In truth, it was a perfectly wonderful evening and few experiences provided as intimate a window into the theater of my boyfriend’s family. Their Passover hospitality, and peccadilloes, would set the bar for my relationships to come.

Hospitality is more than encouraged on Passover; it is required. We are commanded to leave the door open for Elijah the prophet as well as to invite all who are hungry to come and eat.

But when you are dating, the hungry can often interpret a come-and-eat invitation as more symbolic than the shank bone on a seder plate. And your family can become either a boon or a liability.

“For me it’s an investment,” says Tara Chantal Silver, 32, a publicist in Washington. “Passover is a very big deal in my family. I don’t bring every guy home, just the ones who are special.”

So how do you know if it’s the right time to extend an invitation to that someone special?

“The first question to ask yourself is, do I want this person sitting beside me?” says relationship expert Andrea Syrtash. “But it doesn’t have to be a specific answer, like I want them to be the mother of my children. It’s a gracious thing to invite someone for the holiday. No one normal or healthy would freak out being asked.”

Dating coach Evan Marc Katz says to consider “the strength of the relationship over an arbitrary timeline.”

If you think the relationship has the potential to become long-term or serious eventually, Katz says, at some point you’re going to have to meet the family -- and Passover is as good a time as any.

Adina Matusow, 28, and her fiance, Ben, took it slow spending the holiday together.

“As far as Passover, we weren’t so interested in sharing,” says Matusow, who lives with her fiance in Stamford, Conn.

By the time she went to his aunt’s house for Passover, they had been dating for nearly two years.

Matusow says the experience was different from what she was used to with her family. His family was smaller and less noisy, and the seder plate looked amiss.

“I thought, where is the celery? They were using parsley [as a leafy green vegetable] instead," she recalls. "I didn’t say anything; I didn’t want to be rude. It’s not a big deal and it was a really nice experience.”

Sometimes, though, a divide in ritual observance can be more significant than celery over parsley.

In 24 years of marriage Robbie Wagner, 48, says most arguments with her husband stem from the differences in their holiday traditions.

Wagner, who lives in Dallas, grew up with an Orthodox Passover seder conducted in Hebrew, a “command performance with 50 to 60 people there, everyone in their best clothes, both nights.”

In contrast, she says, her husband’s family held a small, intimate dinner with no extended family and no reading of the Haggadah. She recalls being particularly disappointed that the afikomen wasn’t hidden for the grandchildren to find.

Over the years, Wagner says she and her husband learned to negotiate and compromise to create meaningful Passover traditions for their children.

Syrtash, author of “How to Survive Your In-Laws” and the upcoming “He’s Just Not Your Type (And That’s a Good Thing),” says couples should try to “have an open mind and remember there’s no such thing as normal. What’s weird to you is normal for him. Try not to have judgment.”

When he was unable to get back to his native Montreal for Passover, architect Ian Roth, 35, accepted an invitation to spend Passover with his girlfriend Katy and her family in Denver.

The seder was less traditional and more interpretative than his family’s and the meal was less extravagant than his mother’s, says Roth, but “it was nice just being welcomed. It helped me have a warm feeling towards her and her family.”

Syrtash suggests couples discuss in advance what Passover looks like in their family's home. Give a head's up if expecting a nosy aunt and, if the relationship is serious, discuss what customs you hope to retain or discard in the future, she says.

For couples with a non-Jewish partner, this is especially important. Syrtash recommends preparing the non-Jewish partner on what to expect at a seder.

“Approach it with enthusiasm, and go over a few things like the rituals and story of Passover before he or she gets to the table for the first time," she says. "It’s a fun, festive holiday and it should feel light.”

In preparation for hosting their own seder someday, Katz and his wife, a Catholic, took an introduction to Passover class as well as a Passover cooking class at a synagogue near their Los Angeles home.

“Different people make it easier to share your customs," he says, "and those are the people you should be with anyway.”

When you are dating, navigating Passover can become a representation of the relationship, says Syrtash, and it can “signify a lot.” But she also says to keep in mind that “Passover is not a wedding. You don’t need a plus one.”

Because if the relationship doesn’t work out, it’s important to remember there’s always next year in Jerusalem. And mom’s kugel.

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Going green through a Jewish lens

 Permanent link
03/22/2010

Going green through a Jewish lens photo 1

Evanston's Jewish Reconstructionist Congregation

I’ve been an environmentalist for a good part of my life. My parents deserve some of the credit for this—they used to threaten me as a little boy, telling me that if I didn’t turn off the lights when I left a room, "Mr. Edison" would come get me. I found this to be a little scary, but it worked—to this day, I rarely find myself leaving the lights on when I leave a room. As a pre-teen, I cherished books such as "50 Simple Things You Can Do to Save the Earth" and even tried my hand at running a local environmental group: Kids FACE (For a Cleaner Environment).

Ever since the opening of An Inconvenient Truth, environmentalism and "going green" has become vital to the way I live. More recently, I’ve tried to experience the process of "going green" through a Jewish lens. While working in Austin, Texas, my congregation was the only Jewish institution in the city that had made a pledge to use green energy sources—even though these often cost a bit more. In my current congregation in the south suburbs, I initiated a paper recycling program that is now successfully in place. I am glad that people are now seeing how much paper is being recycled on a weekly basis, giving weight to this mitzvah.

I recently led a trip for our high school kids to one of the greenest congregations in the country— Evanston's Jewish Reconstructionist Congregation (JRC). Our students went on a tour of the building and learned about how it received LEED green certification. The building is stunning to look at and walk through, and knowing that what you are seeing is not simply for appearance but is actively making a difference in the world, gives you such a sense of gratitude. One of my favorite aspects of the building was how they used wood from trees cleared from the building site and fallen trees from storms to line the ceilings and build their bimah. When you walk in, you smell the amazing aroma of this wood—such an enveloping welcome as you enter the space. JRC has also made the choice to put in energy efficient light sensors in all rooms, so that no energy is wasted, as well as water saving toilets. I have seen these recently in other newly built synagogues, and it’s an easy and cost effective way for any congregation to start going green.

Going green through a Jewish lens photo 2

Our students were very interested in what they saw on the tour. A few were already well educated on environmental issues, which was clear from their comments and questions to our tour guide, and putting this into a Jewish context made it all the better. We know that beyond measure, Judaism values the protection and care of the world we live in. This is just one element that plays into the multitude of what we define as tikkun olam. I certainly hope that Jewish institutions and organizations will do their part to make environmentalism and "going green" a conscious decision in an era where doing so is not just a values statement, but an essential mitzvah upholding the health of our planet and us.

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Celebrating, Russian-restaurant style

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03/19/2010

Celebrating, Russian-restaurant style photo 1

As you enter, you are greeted by an obsequious type wearing a bowtie or a garish – possibly sequined – tie and vest combo. You are led to a room full of gilded baubles. Tables are piled high with colorful food whose names you know only if you grew up in a Russian household.

In Chicago, you’ve got a choice of at least a half a dozen of these Russian restaurants, some that even cater to other Eastern European communities, like Poles and Ukrainians— who seem to share with us a love of heavy food and stultifying 80s pop.

But what to do if your city doesn’t have a Russian restaurant?

My husband’s family live in Indianapolis, and the Russian-speaking community is simply too small to support even one restaurant. (For the record, some entrepreneurial types have tried – twice! My husband worked at one of these restaurants as a bus boy during his high school years.)
In the absence of a real Russian restaurant, the Indy Russians make do. They’ve found two alternatives: Chinese buffet and Italian chain.

I’ve stopped counting the number of birthdays and anniversaries I’ve celebrated by eating nothing but fruit – the only thing I can stand to consume at a Chinese buffet. (And yes, I’m aware that makes me sound pretentious, but as I don’t eat meat in most restaurants and seafood at all, fruit is my stuff of choice.) I was even forced to hold our non-rehearsal rehearsal dinner in a so-called “upscale” Chinese restaurant. While I stick with my fruit plate, my husband’s family and their friends indulge in plate after plate of food until they can barely get up from the table – a venerable Chinese buffet tradition.

But recently, Max and I have been insisting on skipping the Chinese fare and finding a better alternative to the grease-laden foods (especially since his mom recently had surgery and is trying to lose weight). So the family has come up with another alternative: the venerable Italian chains, Bucca di Beppo and Maggiano’s. The former for small events and the latter for big, blow-out celebrations.

Celebrating, Russian-restaurant style photo 2

In fact, we just did the Maggiano’s thing last weekend for my father-in-law’s 75th birthday. The scene was strangely similar to a Russian restaurant: the cheesy décor, the fairly obsequious staff, even the sequined outfits on most of the guests (excluding yours truly).

The lunch-hour celebration started with my mother-in-law trying to bring a touch of home – or the Russian restaurant – and pulling out the sprats. These are tiny anchovy-like fish canned in oil. They are an homage to the Soviet era, when the deficits meant that sprats and other “special” foods were hoarded until major celebrations for guests to wonder at the hosts’ ability to procure the “best foods.” So here’s my mother-in-law, presiding over a 25-person table in the middle of the main dining room at Maggiano’s, pulling cans of fish from her bag to augment the starter course. She made the waiter – who took it all in stride (I’m sure he’s seen worse) – open them and set them along our table in all their metal-can glory. Because of course people would starve on Maggiano-provided salads and appetizers without the added benefits of the sprats.

Celebrating, Russian-restaurant style photo 3

Once she started with the additional treats, there was no stopping her. To accompany the second course, she brought – wait for it! – cow tongue. Boiled and spiced with pepper, tongue is a Russian delicacy. I’m normally not averse to a small slice, which tastes like pâté, but I tend to reserve my tongue consumption for the home.

As I sat there, wedged between my husband and his elderly aunt, I resigned myself to the fact that my husband’s older relatives as well as my own won’t ever leave their Soviet-style outlook behind. It’s simply too late for them. While Max and I already have spent half of our lives living in the States and have assimilated certain attitudes, our relatives will forever remain not merely Russian or Russian-speaking, but Soviet. The country that birthed and reared them no longer exists. But the attitudes nurtured by years of deficits will forever remain with them.

Just know that I solemnly promise that when I invite you to celebrate a milestone with me, there won’t be a sprat in sight – unless, of course, you’re at my house.

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Why this Skidmore girl loves the Jayhawks

 Permanent link
03/18/2010

Last summer I gave up on the Cubs.  The fun was gone— Wood and DeRosa kicked to the curb and the Bradley signing left a bad taste in my mouth.  I’d spent too many summers hoping, spending and crying on a team that kept letting all of us in Cubs nation down, so I decided to take a healthy break and wait for Jay Cutler, the Bears and fall. That didn’t go so well either.  And the Bulls…ugh.

Professional Chicago sports teams= big fail.

So, what’s a girl to do?

Cheer for the White Sox?

No offense, but it’s just not happening and I don’t think they’d want me as a fan anyways.

Cheer for another city’s team?

I tried cheering for the Tigers, but even with two of my favorite players on the roster, I just didn’t have it in me.  And I was glad the Saints won the Super Bowl, but let’s face it, I’m a fan of Kim Kardashian (I know, I know) and that’s not a good reason to cheer on any team.

Cheer for a college sports team?

Hmmm.  As a proud alumnus of a small, Division III liberal arts college in upstate New York, I spent most of my college years watching my friend’s field hockey, lacrosse games and horse riding competitions.  Not exactly the kind of thing one tailgates for…but, it’s kind of nice how players don’t get traded and it doesn’t seem to be so blatantly all about the money, and most importantly, if I cheer for a college team then I can hang out with my boyfriend Jason and my friends when they go watch their games at their team bars.  So while I missed out on college sports in college, I could at least start rooting for a team every weekend as a newly anointed fan.  This could work!

Who to choose?

It needed to be a team that wins often and had some history, like my Cubs.  (Full disclosure, Jason went to Kansas and Kincades (a KU bar in Chicago) has great veggies burgers, so picking didn’t involve much thought), I decided to become a loyal Jayhawks fan!  And for the most part, I think I’ve been a good fan— I visited Kansas and looked at Allen Fieldhouse with just the right amount of reverence, I bought some cute KU apparel, I’ve cheered loudly and frequently— sometimes I even forget that I didn’t actually go to school there.

But then on Sunday I got accused of being a fake, fair-weather fan.  Ouch!  I made the mistake of not loudly whining about how unfair it was that Kansas has the most difficult route to the championship this year.  (Kansas potentially has to play the two teams they lost to this year, while Duke, which lost nine games, has arguably the easiest route to the finals.)  Instead, I might have innocently suggested that it seemed kind of fair, “We won the championship just two years ago, let’s not be greedy.  We’re a great team and a tough road to the finale will just showcase how deserving and talented we really are.”

Jason hid my Kansas t-shirt and I’ve been disinvited from watching the games.  So to prove my undying love and support for Jayhawks basketball, here are my top ten reasons to be a Jayhawks fan, even if you didn’t go to Kansas:

1. They invented basketball…sort of.  James Naismith is credited with inventing the sport of basketball in 1891 and he was the first coach for the Kansas Jayhawks men’s basketball team.

2. They win a lot.  One of only three teams to ever win more than 2,000 games.  52 conference championships. 5 national championships— 3 in the NCAA tournament.

3. They’re not part of the Big Ten.  Bill Self left Illinois for Kansas.

4. This amazing shot of Mario Chalmers tying the 2008 NCAA championship game and forcing the game into overtime.

5. Alumni Kirk Hinrich is a Bull (at least for now.)

6. Sherron Collins is from Chicago.

7. Some of the greatest NBA players went to Kansas: Danny Manning, Wilt Chamberlain, Paul Pierce.

8. I won my first March Madness bracket in 2008 because I picked Kansas to go all the way!

9. Singing the rock chalk Jayhawk chant inside the packed beyond capacity Allen Fieldhouse.

10. They’re probably going to win the National Championship again this year!  What more can you ask for— a winning team!

Rock Chalk Jayhawk, Go KU!

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Shout out to other women

 Permanent link
03/17/2010

Shout out to other women photo

I love this photo of my baby Lindsay on her first swing ride, because if you look a little closely, you will see something amiss… look at the shoes… see it?  Mommy put her shoes on the wrong feet!  DOH!

Ok, so I guess I won’t be winning any mother-of-the-year awards.  But, since I’ve managed to somehow keep my daughter healthy and pretty darn happy for the past 13 months, I don’t think I’m doing too badly as a mom either… even if there are days when I put her shoes on the wrong feet, her shirt on inside-out, or her diaper on backwards (only ONCE).  Truthfully, there are days where I’ve gone off to work dressed worse.

Motherhood, as you have read on the blogs of my fellow Oy!sters, is an awesome challenge, and if you don’t have a sense of humor about it, you are going to be in for a really rough time.  Because there are going to be days when you will forget to pack the diapers, wipes, or a change of clothes and it’s inevitably the one time she has a massive, gravity-defying explosion—like up the back and into the ears—when you are in the middle of nowhere.  Or, you will take your baby to services and she will sit perfectly quiet up until the Rabbi’s sermon and at that moment she will screech “Dadadadada”, distracting the entire congregation and annoying the Senior Rabbi—a.k.a., Dadadada’s boss.

While I could go on about my “mommy adventures,” this blog isn’t about being a mom, or about my absolutely perfect and brilliant daughter.  (She can clap!  Get out the applications for Harvard!)  Nope, this blog is about the OTHER women in my life—my family, my friends, my colleagues, and those random kind women who have helped me through all the ups and downs.

Truthfully, I have been happily surprised by just how great my fellow XY chromosome peers have been.  Sadly, I think I more prepared for criticism and judgments, and I would be lying if I said I have not received negative comments about my full-time-burb-to-city-commute work schedule.

But I have received far more in the way of encouragement, support and random acts of kindness from women—some who I know well, and others who I will never see again.  When I went back to work, my friends and family were rocks for me.  They were the ones who when I was petrified and crying, told me it would be ok, that I would be fine, that my daughter would be fine, and they were right.  Never once did any of my friends who are stay-at-home-moms ever make me question my decision or lifestyle, and for that they have my enduring love and respect.   And when I returned to work, I found an office filled with women (and men) willing to listen to me babble on about my baby, who shared their own experiences, offered support, and even exchanged baby gear.  I know that not every woman has this kind of support at work, and I do not take it for granted.

And then there are the complete strangers I have met in the parks, on the planes, in the bathrooms, whose little random acts and words of kindness can make a new mom’s day.  Such as the waitress at Walker Brothers who tells you about baby gas drops when your baby is colicky (thank you Walker Brothers Waitress).  Or the women in your aisle on the airplane who doesn’t mind when your baby cries.  Or the dental hygienist who tells you not to listen to any “so-called experts” who say that babies in daycare or with other childcare providers are somehow disadvantaged—her children turned out just fine, thank you very much.  It makes you realize just how kind and generous women can be, and when you are inevitably on the receiving end of a catty remark, it really doesn’t matter.

So, on this St. Patty’s Day, I want to wish every woman (and man for that matter) who has held me up, given me a shoulder to cry on, and told me that my kids shoes were on the wrong feet and that she has done it too, all the luck of the Irish.  (Hey, I’ve got a drop or two of Irish blood in me—pass me a green beer.)  Thank you—you all have been my pot o’ gold.

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Bonsoiree

 Permanent link
03/16/2010

Bonsoiree
2728 W. Armitage Ave.
773-486-7511
www.bon-soiree.com

Howard’s Wine Cellar
1244 W. Belmont

Rating:  Five stars

StarStacey StarStacey StarStacey StarStacey StarStacey 

Being a foodie can occasionally be something of a burden.  It is all too easy to get jaded, to stop finding pleasure in perfectly serviceable meals, because they aren’t new enough or innovative enough.  One can forget that doing something simple and well is actually proof of skill in the kitchen.  After all, ask almost any chef or restaurant critic the mark of a great cook, and they will tell you roasted chicken is the ultimate test.  And while I try not to be a food snob, I do occasionally have to check myself, reminding my inner-critic that underseasoned is better than overseasoned, easily fixed with a salt shaker, and not a personal affront.  Likewise, when a more upscale place bandies around effete adjectives and food “philosophies,” I have to hold myself in check, hoping the food is as good as the marketing vocabulary.

Chicago is an amazing place to be an unabashed foodie, with an enormous range of fabulous restaurants old and new, in every possible ethnic variation, and at every level of cuisine from the most basic one-step-up-from-home-cookin’ to places like Alinea and other multiple starred restaurants that always make the “best in the world” lists.  We have fantastic places to buy exceptional ingredients for playing with in our own kitchens, and terrific takeout for those nights when dirtying pots seems impossible to imagine.

When a new place starts to get a buzz around it, I often cringe, since often “hot” just means “expensive, with foams” or “famous people have been spotted there.”  I don’t necessarily need everything deconstructed or molecularly gastronimied, as much as I enjoy those conventions in the right hands. I’m as passionate about the best simple bowl of pasta (Buona Terra) and corned beef sandwich (Manny’s Deli) as I am about fancy multi-course meals.  I get as excited about the newest greasy spoon that is doing amazing omelettes and hash browns as I do about the hot new wunderchef.  Often more.

Lucky for me, by the time I heard about Bonsoiree, the new BYOB in my neighborhood specializing in five- to thirteen-course tasting menus, it was from people whose palates I trusted, eliminating any of my usual skepticism.  So when these same people snagged a reservation for a party of eight, and invited my boyfriend and myself to join them, we jumped at the chance. 

Bonsoiree is located in a small unobtrusive space on West Armitage Avenue, just east of California.  I must have driven by it a hundred times and never noticed it.  They do two seatings of up to twenty-eight people, one at 6 p.m. and one at 8:30.  The menu changes seasonally, and is posted ahead of time on the website for patrons to peruse to see if the current offerings are to everyone’s taste, and they are quick to accommodate special needs of diners with food restrictions.  The room is tiny, the tables simply set with white linen and basic flatware.

The food, quite simply, is spectacular.

We began with an amuse bouche of raw Hamachi, served over a simple seaweed salad with house-pickled radishes.  Not being a fan of seafood, mine was served with crispy lotus root subbing in for the fish, with delicious results.  The second course was a simple salad of roasted red and golden beets, with endive and Treviso, roasted pears, pomegranate-charred tomato vinaigrette and a tiny cranberry fritter.  The beets were perfectly cooked, the dressing subtly smoky and tart, balancing the crispy fritter.  The next course was scallop and peekytoe crab motoyaki, a preparation which has the seafood suspended in a rich Ponzu aioli, served with a bruleed top in a large scallop shell.  My dish replaced the seafood with duck confit, and frankly, it was one of the best single mouthfuls of food I have ever experienced.  The silky aioli was subtly spiced, and a perfect foil for the meaty duck.  Around me, the seafood version disappeared quickly, with exclamations of delight, so I feel confident that it was equally delicious.

A clear veal and coffee consommé was hand served from a French press coffeepot, into large wide bowls of sautéed wild mushrooms, a potato and chive dumpling, and a small nugget of bittersweet chocolate ganache.  The flavors were complex and yet comforting, and while many people chose to eat the chocolate in one bite, I allowed mine to melt into the soup, and loved the depth of flavor it added.  Following that was small slice of perfectly rare venison loin was nestled on top of a small portion of blackberry risotto and blackberry and blueberry coulis, the meat velvety and slightly gamy, the risotto perfectly al dente.

The next course was probably the only one that failed somewhat for me, in part because of the exceptional dishes which preceded it.  A slice of roasted Barramundi was paired with an artichoke croquette and candied Brussels sprouts.  The fish was well cooked, and moist, but not a terrific match with the croquette, which had decent flavor and an excellent crisp crust, but a somewhat watery texture.  I am an enormous fan of brussel sprouts in general, but the “candying” process did them a disservice.  However our disappointment was very short lived, as the next course was a showstopper.  A pairing of braised rabbit in a Riesling beurre blanc, and braised oxtail with a bone marrow smoked tomato compote, served with crispy sage gnocchi.  The rabbit and oxtail were both extraordinary in flavor and texture, the gnocchi were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside with excellent flavor, and the smoked tomato sauce heightened the entire plate.

Their version of a cheese course, a gruyere fondue with a gooseberry beignet for dipping was playful and tasty, and the desert course of blood orange frozen yogurt over a chestnut pudding was a lovely tart and light ending to a decadent meal.

The evening was guided by the knowledgeable staff, who explained dishes with calm precision, and kept wine and water glasses filled almost by magic.  As a BYOB, you have total control over wine pairings, which is terrific for anyone who is a connoisseur.  And if you aren’t, never fear.  Go see Howard Silverman at Howard’s Wine Cellar at 1244 West Belmont.  Howard will find you the perfect bottles for the current menu in your price range, and probably a few extra bottles for your home collection at the same time.

I couldn’t stop raving about the meal to everyone, and as a result, several of my friends (including my personal trainer) have been to dine there since.  And every one of them has reported back to me that their evenings were as special as mine had been.  Most did the five course menu, so far none of us have indulged in the expansive thirteen course option, but it is on my list to do one of these days!

And while it is a very ‘foodie’ experience, the food stands on its own in a way that is not in the least alienating to someone who might not be as passionate about culinary arts, but just appreciates a terrific meal.  It would be a wonderful place for a special occasion, or a way to make a non-occasion special.  I can guarantee it will stay on my radar, and as the menus change seasonally, I am anticipating a return as soon as the spring menu is in play.

Yours in good taste,
Stacey

www.staceyballis.com
www.thepolymathchronicles.blogspot.com

NOSH of the Week:  As we head into Passover, the foodiest of foodie holidays, try my new favorite pesach cookies!  These almond macaroons are one of the easiest things I can make, and are completely addictive.  I hope you will try them, and wish you a very happy holiday!

Chewy Almond Macaroons

1 (7-ounce) tube pure almond paste (not marzipan; about 3/4 cup)
1 cup granulated sugar
Pinch of Kosher salt
2 large egg whites, left at room temperature for at least 30 minutes

Preheat oven to 300°F and place racks in the upper and lower thirds of your oven. Line two large sheet pans with parchment paper.

Pulse almond paste, sugar and salt in a food processor until broken up, then add egg whites and puree until smooth. Transfer batter to pastry bag fitted with a 3/8-inch tip and pipe 3/4-inch rounds (1/3 inch high) about 1-inch apart in pans. Dip a fingertip in water and gently tamp down any peaks.

Bake, rotating and switching position of pans halfway through, until golden and puffed, 15 to 18 minutes.
Let cookies cool almost completely in their pans. Once cool, they’re much easier to cleanly remove from the parchment. You can make them into sandwich cookies but spreading some jam (I used raspberry) between them or ganache (3 ounces of semi-sweet chips melted with 1 to 2 tablespoons of cream, then left to thicken a bit would be enough to sandwich the whole batch).

Cookies can be kept in an airtight container at room temperature for a day or two or frozen up to one month.

Nosh Food Read of the Week:   Toast  by Nigel Slater

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An NCAA Bracket with a Jewish twist

 Permanent link
03/15/2010

So, it’s tournament time. Everyone is frantically filling out their brackets, hoping to gain pride and maybe some cash. Everyone has a different strategy for picking the Final Four. Some people pick underdogs, some pick according to mascots, and some pick by using what they think is knowledge yet always end up losing. Well, The Great Rabbino has decided to help you out. TGR is filling out your brackets with a Jewish twist this year. I want to state clearly that I am NOT responsible for you losing your pool. This is just a fun, Jewish, and different way of trying to win your bracket. And remember that God influenced these picks…I am a rabbi-in-training after all.

After tons of extensive research I came up with this crazy and completely illogical system. Picks were considered by the team’s number of Jewish players/coaches, seeding numbers (#1 = God, # 10 = 10 Commandments, etc), the university’s Hillel/Jewish studies programs, the number of Jews on campus, the surrounding city’s Jewish presence, Jewish sports alumni and a slight TGR bias.

MIDWEST REGION ROUND 1
Kansas vs. Lehigh – While Lehigh has a Jewish player, Matt Shamis, all #1 seeds will advance because the number one stands for God.
UNLV vs. Northern Iowa – I believe Northern Iowa was the home to the Rubashkins. UNLV wins by default.
Michigan State vs. New Mexico State – Hank Greenberg’s Michigan roots push MSU ahead to the next round.
Maryland vs. Houston – Maryland boasts one of the best Hillels in the country.
Tennessee vs. San Diego State – Player Steven Pearl gets the Volunteers to round two.
Georgetown vs. Ohio – Even with less Jews on campus Ohio wins by a Hillel.
Oklahoma State vs. Georgia Tech – Neither school is strikingly Jewish, so #10 gets the nod representing the 10 Commandments.
Ohio State vs. Santa Barbra – UCSB has Jordan Weiner, but OSU’s stadium is the Schottenstein center. Jewish home beats out Jewish player.

WEST REGION ROUND 1
Syracuse vs. UVM – The number one stands for God, which is unbeatable (unless it’s Ditka).
Gonzaga vs. Florida State – The Christian school wins this one. Let the interfaith dialogue begin.
Butler vs. UTEP – Butler has better Jewish life on campus.
Vanderbilt vs. Murray State – Vanderbilt’s quick growing Jewish population gets them to round two.
Xavier vs. Minnesota – Sigmund Harris was an All American quarterback at Minnesota and a part of the tribe (yes, that is the best we can do).
Pittsburgh vs. Oakland – Pittsburgh Hillel trumps Oakland’s chances.
BYU vs. Florida – Nimrod Tishman, while not playing much, creates the Jewish/Israeli upset here.
Kansas State vs. North Texas – My regular bracket won’t have this, but my Jewish bracket does. North Texas has a great Jewish studies program and advances.

EAST REGION ROUND 1
Kentucky vs. ETSU – God is one!
Texas vs. Wake Forest – Current Jewish Major Leaguer Scott Feldman plays for the Rangers. Texas pride!
Temple vs. Cornell – TGR is so upset that Jews are playing each other in the first round. Cornell has two and Temple has one, so upset in the making. 
Wisconsin vs. Wofford – Wisconsin is home to tons of Jewish summer camps. Not sure what Wofford is known for.
Marquette vs. Washington – The better Hillel moves on.
New Mexico vs. Montana – Umm…so…I have a Rabbinical School friend from New Mexico?
Clemson vs. Missouri – Numbers system. The #10 Commandments trump the days in a week (#7).
West Virginia vs. Morgan State – UWV at least has a Hille1.

SOUTH REGIONAL ROUND 1
Duke vs. (ARPB/WIN) – #1 God is with Duke and Jon Scheyer.
California vs. Louisville – Last season California had David Liss. His legacy continues.
Texas A&M vs. Utah State – There are more Jews in Texas. That’s a fact.
Purdue vs. Siena – Purdue has a Hillel.
Notre Dame vs. Old Dominion – Continuing our interfaith theme.
Baylor vs. Sam Houston – Baylor has a Hillel.
Richmond vs. St. Mary’s – Mary was a Jew.
Villanova vs. Robert Morris – Seems to be the interfaith region.

MIDWEST REGIONAL ROUND 2
Kansas vs. UNLV – God is still #1.
MSU vs. Maryland – Maryland’s Hillel continues to roll.
Tennessee vs. Ohio – This time it’s Bruce Pearl who leads the way.
GT vs. OSU – Shalom in the Home. OSU marches on.

WEST REGIONAL ROUND 2
Syracuse vs. Gonzaga – Player Brandon Reese pushes ‘Cuse ahead.
Butler vs. Vanderbilt – Vanderbilt’s Jewish studies program trumps Butler.
Minnesota vs. Pittsburgh – The Squirrel Hill faithful keeps Pitt in it.
Florida vs. North Texas – Tishman’s prayers keep them alive.

EAST REGIONAL ROUND 2
Kentucky vs. Texas – God remains on top.
Cornell vs. Wisconsin – Jon Jaques and Eitan Chemerinski help Cornell move on to the Sweet Sixteen.
Washington vs. New Mexico – Yikes again. Washington has more Jews?
Missouri vs. West Virginia – Been to Wheeling, WV and it has a nice synagogue.

SOUTH REGIONAL ROUND 2
Duke vs. California – Scheyer will play a huge factor in the tournament. Stay tuned.
Texas A&M vs. Purdue – More Jews on campus.
Notre Dame vs. Baylor – The Hillel beats the Church.
St. Mary vs. Villanova – Mary over her son’s followers.

SWEET SIXTEEN
Kansas vs. Maryland – No Hillel can beat God.
Tennessee vs. OSU – The Pearls cruise.
Syracuse vs. Vanderbilt – Syracuse has Assistant Coach Bernie Fine. Winner!
Pittsburgh vs. Florida – How can Pittsburgh overcome thousands of Jewish bubbes?
Kentucky vs. Cornell – I want to pick Cornell but when Calipari left Memphis it allowed Josh Pastner (Jewish) to move into his coaching spot. So, for Calapari’s act of chesed the Wildcats move into the Elite Eight.
Washington vs. UWV – Marshall “Biggie” Goldberg played fullback for the Steelers, but he was born and raised in UWV (and makes this bracket not totally weird).
Duke vs. Texas A&M – Scheyer keeps them moving.
Baylor vs. St. Mary’s – Lets face it, not too many Jews at St. Mary’s.

ELITE EIGHT
Kansas vs. Tennessee – Finally, I can stop picking Kansas. Tennessee’s Jew power overcomes Kansas.
Syracuse vs. Florida – Coach Fine and benchwarmer Reese carry the Orange into the Final Four.
Kentucky vs. UWV – Calipari’s help makes me want to keep him going.
Duke vs. Baylor – Scheyer is the best Jewish player in this tournament. Period.

FINAL FOUR
Tennessee vs. Syracuse – Both teams have a Jewish player and coach, but Tennessee’s are better.
Kentucky vs. Duke – Jon Scheyer takes the Dukies to the Finals.

CHAMPIONSHIP
Duke vs. Tennessee – Jon Scheyer wins it all.

For more Jewish sports visit www.TheGreatRabbino.com.
And Let Us Say...Amen.

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Is there a benefit to emotional and physical ailments?

 Permanent link
03/12/2010

Have you ever read an article that just sticks with you? I did a couple of weeks ago: Depression’s Upside by Jonah Lehrer in the New York Times.

The article evaluates the theory of psychiatrist Andy Thomson and psychologist Paul Andrews that a “depressive disorder came with a net mental benefit.”

I’ve been thinking about this idea for a while: why would we suffer from anything unless there was a purpose or benefit to it?

What should we be learning from emotional or physical ailments and if we know, will we have more control over their outcome.

Let me be clear: I don’t think there’s necessarily something to learn from every disease, but from some sickness, there must be a greater message that our body is sending us besides expletives.

I used to get stiff necks a lot. It was absolutely miserable. I went to a doctor who told me that my neck was saying, “STOP MOVING ME.” I was forced just to sit it out. It turned out that there were things I could do and have done to significantly reduce the occurrences of neck and back pain (moderate weight lifting and ergonomic changes) but my neck was stiff for a reason to force me to stop moving it, so I wouldn’t do any further damage to it.

Another thing: I’ve never liked foods high in fat. For example, mayonnaise, avocado, macaroni and cheese, whole milk have always disgusted me and made me feel sick. No one could ever understand my strong dislike and physical reaction to the foods. It turns out my body couldn’t process them properly. I was being sent a message even just smelling the Kraft on the counter top or seeing mayo spread on bread: these foods WILL make me sick.

But then there’s the emotional part. How are depression, anxiety and rumination beneficial? According to Thomson and Andrews, it helps us understand situations better and analyze them piece by piece to forge a better outcome. I can buy that for some symptoms, but others, especially my distracting ruminations, only seem like mental clutter and are sometimes even somewhat personally destructive. Why am I burdened by them? Why is anyone burdened by anything?

One might argue that my obsessive thinking helps me pay attention to detail at work and come up with every scenario that could enhance or pitfall a project. Therefore it serves a purpose. If I were in the wild, I’d be constantly on the lookout for danger, and protect myself, family and community.

How our behavior can serve or preserve us can play a role in our interpersonal relationships as well.

I’ve always considered myself a compassionate person. When a person is behaving poorly, I try to think about what caused him/her to act that way. After reading this article, I will add to that, what purpose does it serve said person to act that way. I don’t know if it’s a worthwhile analytical process, but it does make for perhaps a more holistic view on those around me who are acting in a way that is hard for me to understand. It’s also a way to view the self and perhaps to welcome our demons to the table instead of being handicapped by them.

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Flashback to seventh grade

 Permanent link
03/10/2010

Recently, I was going through a pile of old school papers in a box my mom dug up in our basement and I found a piece I wrote back in the seventh grade. Reading it, was a nice walk down memory lane. If you’re feeling nostalgic for your childhood as I’ve been lately, then keep reading. If I do say so myself, I think it  shows amazing promise for little twelve-year-old me, waxing poetic. I think it all still rings true!

Flashback to seventh grade photo

"A Wish” (1991)

"Throw your dream into space like a kite and you do not know what it will bring back... a new life, a new friend, a new love or a new country." -Anais Nin

Let the dream sift away, like a lost memory. Then open your eyes, so you can reveal freedom or equality. Maybe the past or future shows.

Open up yourself. Explore new places. Let your mind just drift away. Then your wish will come true. Let yourself sit on the wish. Hold it with your heart's content. Dream and think about the wish all the time. Involve it, love it, and want it. Make it your best friend. Believe in it completely. Soon, you will be bleeding in a goodness that your desire has let you be. Now you're ready for anything.

When you make a wish, at first you believe it and want it, but then many times wishes get caught in knots, and then float in the deepest sea. A wish will not work this way. It must be kept in your insides, hidden away, but not forgotten. It must be loved. If you let it reside within you, you will soon obtain it. Then it will become real.

Wishes bring a lot. They may show you the future while you remain in the past. They may bring you "a new love, a new country, a new life, or a new friend." They may bring good or bad. Who knows exactly what they may bring. That is up to the dreamer.

When did you first wish for that special thing you longed for? Was it last Monday, a week ago, a month, or even a year ago? Did you forget your wish or did you keep in touch with it? If you forgot about it, you must revive it and bring it back to its full stance. After awhile, you will realize what has happened. The wish has revealed itself and become its true fantasy.

Next time you wish you will have this in mind. You will remember that if you follow these guidelines, your wish could be anything you would like. Then you will see that imagining can bring what you want and need, but only if you believe in it. A wish brings its coming on its own...

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A different kind of exodus

 Permanent link
03/09/2010

A different kind of exodus photo 1

Hanging out at my birthday party with my BFF, Lauren

I wish I could recruit for a new best friend in town.

My closest friend Lauren just moved out of Chicago this winter and returned to her hometown of Miami with her husband and toddling daughter to live near Lauren’s parents. She’s my best friend of 15 years so whoever you are, New Best Friend, you’d have big shoes to fill—literally. Lauren wears a size 11.

I realize my recruitment sounds a bit like Paris Hilton’s MTV reality show called “My New BFF,” in which she auditions people across the world to become her closest pal.

New Best Friend, I promise you this is where the similarities between Paris and me end, and I’ll refrain from using the acronym “BFF” after I finish this column.

But to fill Lauren’s shoes, you’d have to meet high expectations.

Like Lauren, you’d have to be versatile—game for joining me for Cubs games, Oprah shows, Friday night Shabbat services, a range of movies from “Valentine’s Day” to the Michael Jackson documentary, wine tastings, the Art Institute, and, of course, Ghiradelli’s chocolate/ice cream parlor.

You’d laugh at my jokes even when they aren’t funny.

Oh, and when I’m on a blind date, I’d text you from time to time from the bathroom with either a “I like him!” or a “He asked me to pay for his coffee and was mean to the waitress!” Then you’d text back with a loyal and motivating line, either “Yay, can’t wait for the wedding!” or “You’ll write a book about it one day!”

Most of all, like Lauren, you’d just be there for me—and I the same for you.

A different kind of exodus photo 2

Lauren and me…The Graduates.

But even while I’m wishing for a new best friend, I know I’m not alone. After all, Lauren is one of many making an exodus these days.

In fact, Americans are the most mobile people in the world, moving on average every five years so many of us are forced to make new friends, and often. Fittingly, I read this statistic in “Marie Claire” magazine while waiting for a flight at O’Hare to visit loved ones across the country.

American Jews are no exception in this transient society. Recently, I’ve noticed several of my other Jewish friends moving back to their hometowns too after spending their young adult years here in Chicago.

Back when we were 18, it was exciting and a little sad that, for so many of us, growing up meant moving away from our hometowns and families—our nests—to discover who we are as independent adults in big cities like Chicago.

The 2000-2001 Metropolitan Chicago Jewish Population Study reports that some 46,000 Jews, ages 22-35, live in the Chicago area, about half of whom, 23,500, weren’t born in Illinois.

We made a home for ourselves in this city, this large melting pot of 20- and 30-something transients. We were each looking for a more urban experience, a city packed with young people, a thriving Jewish community, a compelling career, and maybe a Jewish mate.

But now, as we settle into the next stages of life, some of us are leaving the big city behind—returning home to raise kids near family, taking better job opportunities, and embarking on suburban life. That’s also both exciting (especially for grandparents) and a little sad too.

Now that I think about it, though, maybe I don’t need to find a new best friend. After all, there’s Skype, there’s e-mail, there’s good old-fashioned phones, and airplanes too.

It’s a fact of life that people move away. But if you’re lucky, your closest friends will stay with you forever—they’ll still be there for you no matter where they live.

Want to make some new friends on Passover? Join Sidney N. Shure Kehilla for the first 1st Night Young Adult Seder on Monday, March 29, 7pm @ Temple Sholom 3480 N. Lake Shore Drive  $25 before March 20, $36 after at  www.shurekehilla.org   Kosher for Passover Dietary Laws observed.  Open to all Jewish backgrounds.

For more info, email  Kehilla@gojcc.org or call 224-974-9090.  Sponsored by Sidney N. Shure Kehilla - Making Jewish Connections in Chicago for those in their 20s & 30s!  Sidney N. Shure Kehilla is a partnership of JCC of Chicago, Anshe Emet, Anshe Sholom B'nai Israel, Temple Sholom of Chicago, Emanuel Congregation, and Or Chadash.

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Spring Cleaning

 Permanent link
03/08/2010

Spring Cleaning photo

Fridays are frenetic, frantic and leave me frizzled! I run around like a maniac so that I can rush home to make an elaborate dinner for my family and friends. I don’t usually question if I could be doing a better job of “doing a Friday,” I just accept it and run around trying to make it all happen.

Several weeks ago I had a weak moment. I woke up on Friday morning at 5 a.m. and ran downtown to my kitchen at Spertus Institute of Jewish Studies, got my work done, jumped back in the car and sped up north to pick up my son Jonah from school and stopped at the grocery store to get the few items I needed to round out the Shabbat meal. All was going well…until the trip to the store—I bought a challah! I had not started my dough that morning or Thursday night. I was tired, frazzled, fschizzled (as Jonah would say) and just not in the mood.

Let me say before I go on—we always have homemade challah on Friday night. It’s like the mail service—through snowstorm, blinding rain, extreme heat and whatever else….we will have homemade challah. Except that one day.

The challah was made at a local kosher bakery and shipped directly to my regular grocery haunt. I knew something was wrong the second I picked up the offending item. It was light as a feather. Too light. Not normal. I was rushing and blowing through the store—I had no choice.

Table set, dinner ready, dessert divine (as always) and the challah was really scaring me. It was unnaturally brown but without the crust, it weighed next to nothing and smelled faintly of fake vanilla. You know that smell, the one that is usually associated with soft serve ice cream. Sort of vanilla-y, but not really.

Candles, blessings, wine etc….and the moment of truth. Awful! No texture, no density, no flavor other than the fake vanilla and worst of all, NO SOUL! We joked about it, discussed whether or not I was losing “it” and ate the meal. I was seriously upset. I bought another one the next week as an experiment (I made the real one). I inspected it closely. It was made up of a fine network of gluten strands and air. I pushed it down and it made a ‘swoosh” sound and bounced back up. I did it again and the same thing happened. Over and over again the challah defied the laws of physics. I put it back in its plastic bag and enjoyed the dinner with our homemade challah.

I sort of forgot about the challah until a few days ago. I had stuck it in the microwave (to me it is a bread box-I never use it) out of sight, out of mind.

The challah had not changed. It was still the same. It did not mold and still defied physics. This was one sturdy little challah, which is not normal and not good.

In Chicago we boast a major Jewish community. Why can’t we get a decent kosher bakery? The breads have no heart. I buy breads for events all the time. It is hit or miss. I am concerned as to why we don’t have an artisanal bakery. I am thinking of gorgeous baguettes all crispy and crusty and NATURAL brown colored. How about challot that are dense and heavy with eggs, bread flour, honey and natural fats-say oil for example? This is a trend folks. Not a fad. Great bread is in! A good baguette is the new black this year. How about it? When did the amber waves of grain become synonymous with soulless, artificially flavored puffballs of dough? Am I the only one who is upset by this? Does anyone else see the difference in the great breads out in the world and the wretched loaves we get? Seriously, walk by a bakery or look one up on line, call me for examples and check out what everyone else is eating.

As we approach Pesach and purge our kitchens from flour and grains, we also should do some serious spring cleaning of another kind. Let’s all agree to stop eating what isn’t good for us, doesn’t taste wonderful and is made with less than great products. Just because it has a hechsher does not mean it is quality.

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The Spain Diet

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03/04/2010

The Spain Diet photo 1

What if I told you, you could eat bread, pizza, potatoes, wine and pastries and still be thin? Oh, and you can eat dinner at 10 p.m. Carbs, alcohol, sugar and some more carbs do not add up to a diet most people think of as healthy. Dr. Atkin’s would be shocked.

I just got home from a once in a lifetime vacation to Spain with my wife. We had an amazing trip filled with walking, sightseeing and food. Hey, a trainer on vacation can eat chocolate. Okay, so I didn’t just eat chocolate; I ate a waffle covered in chocolate. At least I didn’t add the gelato. What surprised me the most, aside from the amazing Gaudi architecture, was the way people ate. A typical Spanish diet:

Breakfast 10 a.m.:
Coffee and a roll with butter and ham

Lunch 2 p.m.:
Fish, rice, veggies, wine
Followed by Siesta (nap)

Snack 5 pm:
Pastry and a Coke (10 ounces)

Dinner 9-10pm:
Tapas: fried salted potatoes, bacon wrapped around pretty much anything, a small salad with lettuce, chicken, tomato
2-3 glasses of wine

In all of Spain, I saw five overweight people, and two of them were wearing Pittsburgh Steelers paraphernalia. Most Europeans were thin, eating a diet high in carbohydrates and light on the protein. Now this is not a horrible diet, but not remotely close to what you would think a fit person would eat. Side note, I don’t condone drinking at lunch or eating fried foods (I am a sucker for a good pastry though). At this point, you are probably asking yourself, why are the folks of Barcelona so skinny?

The Spain Diet photo 2

The biggest, number one, most important detail you should walk away with after reading this is you need to have an active lifestyle. At 9 p.m. on a Monday night, the streets were flooded with people of all ages. The only time the streets were quiet was during siesta. People were not sitting in front of the tube waiting for Gossip Girl; they were out, walking around. A few other important things I noticed:

• NO CORN SYRUP IN SPAIN (not in the Coke, not in the chocolate…)
• 2-5 is Siesta time, people eat, sleep and then go back to work
• Public transportation is great but the stations are huge requiring lots of walking
• Every few blocks there is a little market selling fruit and vegetables

Aside from the massive amount of bacon and ham, there’s not a lot of processed food. There’s a big debate about whether high fructose corn syrup is good or bad for you, but in general, if you avoid products with corn syrup you’re eating less processed food, which is definitely better for you.

The Spain Diet photo 3

Spanish food was calling my name

Let me wrap this up—get moving! It doesn’t matter if it’s at the gym, on the street or around town. Get together with some friends and cook a great meal. I might be interpreting this wrong, but siesta time reduces stress, so look for ways of reducing your stress— meditate, drink some relaxing tea or just take a nap. Adios!

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My trip to Belgrade

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03/03/2010

My trip to Belgrade photo 1

Ariel with Rabbi Isak Asie, Serbia’s only rabbi

I recently returned from a whirlwind visit to Belgrade, Serbia.  I ended up in Belgrade sort of randomly, after my friend Marissa invited me to join her for a weekend in Athens.  We were discussing adding on to our trip in Europe, and Belgrade quickly became our number one choice; Marissa works for Rasky Baerlein Strategic Communications in Boston and one of her accounts is the Serbian Import and Expert Promotion Agency (check out an editorial she helped get placed in the NYT).

At first mention of Serbia, I thought of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC).  As an employee of JUF, it’s extremely important to me to see how the dollars we raise are used.  About half of the money JUF raises each year stays in Chicago and the other half is distributed abroad (mainly through two organizations, JDC and JAFI, the Jewish Agency for Israel).  The JDC works in over 70 countries today, rescuing Jews in danger, providing relief to those in distress (they are doing amazing work in Haiti right now), revitalizing overseas Jewish communities, and helping Israel overcome the social challenges of its most vulnerable citizens.  I know what JDC is all about through my work, but wanted to see it in action.

Prior to my visit to Belgrade, I emailed Ela, the JDC contact in Belgrade, who went above and beyond to make sure that Marissa and I had everything arranged for our trip.  In addition to agreeing to show us around, she offered to book our hotel, pick us up from the airport and arrange a tour for us around the city!

My trip to Belgrade photo 3

Ariel (right) and Marissa with Ela

The Jewish community in former Yugoslavia was majorly affected during WWII and about 60,000 Jews were killed in this region.  Roughly 10,000 Jews lived in Belgrade before the Holocaust, and only around 2,000 Jews presently reside there.  The only synagogue in Belgrade today was used as a night club and brothel during WWII.  Our first stop on the Jewish Belgrade tour was this synagogue (Beit Haknesset Sukat Shalom) which also serves as a community center offering programs for the older adult community (which serves many Holocaust survivors), adult/student/youth activities (clubs and weekend programs), a kosher kitchen (the only kosher kitchen in Belgrade), and the center of Jewish activities in Belgrade.  While at the center, we met with the program coordinators, attended an elderly event with a comedian (although we couldn’t understand the jokes since they were in Serbian, we heard it was very funny), purchased local crafts made by some of the women in the community, and ate lunch with several of the leaders in the Jewish community.

My trip to Belgrade photo 2

Ariel (right) with the Belgrade synagogue’s program coordinators

We also had the incredible opportunity of not only meeting Serbia’s only rabbi, but spending most of the day with him.  Rabbi Isak Asiel serves as the community’s leader; running the services, butchering animals, conducting funerals, teaching classes, and serving as a public figure for the Jewish community.  We went with the rabbi to pick his daughter up from school and ended up on a tour of an old Jewish area in Belgrade.  Remnants of Jewish artifacts and writings can be found in the neighborhoods that were once predominately Jewish.  We passed a public school and the rabbi showed us a plaque that read “The computer lab in this school is donated and supported by JDC.”  I was shocked and proud to see the far-reaching scope of JDC’s efforts.  I was impressed to see JDC on the wall of this public school providing non-sectarian long-term development assistance in Belgrade.  The rabbi then began to tell me some of the specific things that JDC supports in the Jewish community, including financial assistance for the synagogue remodeling and money for Shabbat dinners, and I was beyond impressed.  Our tour ended with a visit to a mosque.  The rabbi wanted to stop by and introduce us to his good friend the imam.  As we walked back to the synagogue, he told us how important it is to him to build relationships with the Muslim and other minority communities.

The Jewish community in Belgrade has come a long way, yet there is still a lot of work to do moving forward.  I was impressed to see that despite the many challenges (including the Holocaust and the hardships of living in a nation plagued by many wars in the 1990s) the Jewish community in Belgrade is fighting to remain strong.  In recent years they have worked to create an amazing community center and programs that strengthen individual and collective Jewish identity.

This community’s hospitality and welcoming attitude toward us epitomized the strength of the Jewish community worldwide.  I have never felt so comfortable and welcome anywhere in the world, besides Israel.  This reminds me of the saying: “Kol Yisrael arevim zeh bazeh (All Israel is responsible for one another).”  Not only does this saying describe the way we were treated in Belgrade, this exemplifies the mission of JDC and how they operate.  The work that JDC conducts daily exemplifies the Jewish way of thought, the idea that we are responsible for one another.  I am proud to be a part of a community that cares for people worldwide and feel fortunate to have had the experience to visit the unique and wonderful Jewish community in Belgrade.

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Our “Greatest Generation”

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03/02/2010

My grandfather, who had celebrated his 100th birthday last November, died this February. I was asked to speak at his funeral.

In preparing my grandfather’s eulogy, I recalled what I knew of his life’s story: Born in the Old Country. Lost most of his family to the Holocaust, which he survived by escaping a labor camp and fleeing to the woods. Married, then moved to a displaced person’s camp, where my mother was born. Immigrated to America, worked as a carpenter while my grandmother took in boarders. Ultimately had four daughters, all of whom graduated college and started their own families.

A remarkable story, yet I had heard so many like it in my own lifetime that I wondered if I should even tell it at the funeral. Hasn’t a similar story— Holocaust survivor comes to America and starts a new life— already been the subject of endless movies, plays and memoirs?

Which is when it dawned on me— the reason we take that generation’s resiliency so for granted may be that it seems so typical. My grandfather’s story is all the more remarkable for being so common.

Sure. To us, now. But at the time, it could have gone either way.

At the time, there was no guarantee that the Holocaust survivors would be able to rebuild their lives. But today, we have heard story after story of Holocaust survivors thriving in their new country.

We hear, again and again, the tale of those who went to the nascent nation of Israel and “made the desert bloom.” We hear, over and over, the saga of those who got trapped behind the Iron Curtain and kept the sparks of Judaism alive under the smothering Soviet flag.

While we see these outcomes as inevitable now, none of them were guaranteed at the time… any more than there was a guarantee that America would have survived the Great Depression, or that Hitler would have lost.

The American generation— millions of whom are Jewish— who did endure the Depression and defeat Hitler is now known as the “Greatest Generation,” in part thanks to a book about them by Tom Brokaw. And their achievements are certainly remarkable. But my grandfather, while their contemporary, was not part of that story. He spent the 1930s in then-Czechoslovakia, and he did not arrive in America until after WWII was over.

But that only means that he is part of a different “Greatest Generation.” Millions of Jews fought for survival within the death camps, fought armies to establish Israel, and fought oppression in the Soviet Union. They were not necessarily American, but these astonishing people also found deep reservoirs of hope and resourcefulness in hellish situations.

Few of these Jews are known by name, but cumulatively, they form a generation worthy of reverence. The fact that there are so many Jews with these stories does not render them cliché at all. It elevates them to the level of historic significance.

Together, these are not stories of what some Jewish people did. This is the story of what The Jewish People did.

Certainly, the achievement of enduring the Depression to defeat the Nazis is equaled by that of enduring to the Holocaust to build new lives in America and a new country in Israel. Apologies to Mr. Brokaw, but Jews of non-American extraction also have a Greatest Generation.

A man comes to a new land with his new family… he does not speak the language… all of his children become self-sufficient. Within one generation, a regeneration.

Maybe the story is common. But there is no reason it had to be, and it is therefore a thousand times more awe-inspiring for being common. As often as this story is repeated, it never fails to impress.

I miss my grandfather. Maybe he was not an historic figure like JFK or Walter Cronkite, cited in Brokaw’s book. Or even Elie Wiesel or a David Ben-Gurion. But my grandfather’s efforts, alongside those of the millions of Jews like him, stand as an eternal inspiration. He was part of a Greatest Generation, too… parallel in time, equal in honor.

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To my brother

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Thank you for volunteering to defend our country.
03/01/2010

To my brother photo 1

Aaron’s deployment ceremony

On February 22nd, 2010 Operation Enduring Freedom, the current U.S. war in Afghanistan, surpassed the Revolutionary War as the longest war in American history.  I am sure those who read the articles marking the occasion found it to be a sobering reminder that our troops have been in harms way for over eight years.  Personally, that reality flashed on my radar screen about five months ago.  My older brother, Aaron, volunteered for the National Guard a few years back and at the end of last summer he received deployment orders for February of 2010.

The challenging part for me hasn’t been the possibility that he might miss my wedding, scheduled for later this year—I can always Skype him into the ceremony if he does not get permission for leave.  It hasn’t been getting time off to visit with him before he leaves—I feel great about having used some vacation days to visit with him last December and to attend his deployment ceremony in mid-February.  It hasn’t even been managing the heightened level of stress that my family is experiencing—all of us are feeling a sense of urgency to get in some quality time before he goes.

It’s figuring out the best way to say goodbye that’s been the challenge for me.  Certainly I don’t want to talk about the unthinkable.  At the same time, the fear is real that my brother may not come back.  But I just do not feel right acting as if I may never see him again.  What good does it do anyone to expect anything less than my brother’s safe return home?  I certainly do not want to be the one to put that on him.

What follows is an excerpt from a letter I wrote to Aaron when we were traveling together to visit family this past December.

To my brother photo 2

Andy (right) with his brother, Aaron

December 25, 2009

Dear Aaron,

Thank you for volunteering to defend our country.  I wanted to write to let you know that I am proud of what you are doing.  I think that it is brave to volunteer to serve in the military; I think it is even braver to follow your dream.  I can tell that this is the mission you have always dreamed of completing.  I know it has been hard for us to make time to spend with each other over the years, but I have still been keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.  I will continue to do so while you are overseas…

…Please take care of yourself and do everything necessary to keep yourself and those who are serving with you safe.   I am confident that you are in good hands and capable leadership.  I know that you will do whatever is necessary to get the job done and return home safely.  Below is a prayer for travelers.  Even if you don’t read it, I hope that you will keep it close to your heart and on your mind.

“ May it be Your will, Lord our God and God of our ancestors, to guide us in peace, to sustain us in peace, to lead us to our desired destination in health and joy and peace, and to bring us home in peace.  Save us from every enemy and disaster on the way, and from all calamities that threaten the world.  Bless the work of your hands.  May we find grace, love, and compassion in Your sight and in the sight of all who see us.  Hear our supplication, for You listen to prayer and supplication.  Praised are You, Lord who hears prayer.”

Love your brother,
Andy

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A new to-do list

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02/26/2010

Eight years ago, upon returning from a semester abroad, I put together a “Life To-Do” list.  Exhilarated by my experiences and inspired to live the life of a “do-er,” I compiled a few must-do-before-I-die goals.  The items on my list ranged from the possible (learn to play guitar) to the probably not possible (marry a Latino Jew) to the downright silly (streak the quad).

Back at school, the goals stayed in my assignment book as a constant reminder:

• Bike through Argentina.
• Live and work in Europe for a year.
• Learn more about wine.

However, once graduation came and went, my university assignment book was no longer of use to me in the “real world,” and I stuck the list in my travel journal.  It was promptly forgotten.

After reconnecting with a friend from my semester in Spain (thank you, Facebook), I dug out my journal, goals still sticking out of the last page.  My heart sank as I read through them and realized that only one item had been accomplished.

I began to wonder what my 21-year-old self would think about where she is today.  After all, 21-year-old Alyssa certainly did not list “live in the suburb where you grew up” among her to-dos.  She didn’t set out to earn a laughable salary at a non-profit organization, and she really didn’t plan on working part-time in order to stay home with a baby.

My younger self had big plans, but maybe those plans haven’t been realized because better “to-dos” have crossed my path.

The Latino Jew of my list turns out to be an Irish-Polish Catholic.  He may not speak Spanish, or read Hebrew, but he enjoys lox and bagels more than I do.

He took me to Sonoma County, where we drank too much wine without learning a whole lot.

While the younger me probably imagined a big paycheck, a condo by the lake and nights out on the town, I think she’d understand the importance of doing work that I can be proud of, living near family and spending nights snuggling with the husband, baby and dog.

There’s still time to learn the guitar.

And if nothing else, at least I can say I streaked the quad.

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I Went to Middle-Earth and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt

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02/25/2010

I read an extraordinary thing this week. Michael Weingrad, a professor of Judaic studies with excellent credentials, published an essay in the Jewish Review of Books titled “Why There Is No Jewish Narnia.” He makes a number of claims, some insightful, others bewildering, about the Jewish relationship with the fantasy genre. Namely, he claims that while Jews like to consume fantasy, we just don’t write it, and that disappoints him.

First, this assertion is ridiculous. Weingrad claims he “cannot think of a single major fantasy writer who is Jewish,” yet even my mother was able to come up with Neil Gaiman, author of the Sandman comics, American Gods, Neverwhere and Coraline and winner of just about every fantasy and literary award short of the Pulitzer and Nobel. My baffled friends asked why Weingrad was overlooking fantasy giants like William Goldman (The Princess Bride), Peter S. Beagle (The Last Unicorn), Jane Yolen (The Devil’s Arithmetic) and Maurice Sendak (Where the Wild Things Are), not to mention Michael Chabon (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay), Daniel “Lemony Snicket” Handler (A Series of Unfortunate Events) and Jonathan Safran Foer (Everything Is Illuminated). My only conclusion is that Weingrad has a very narrow understanding of the fantasy genre, contemporary or otherwise, because given the restrictions he places on his own definition, no wonder he can’t find what he wants.

Weingrad asks why we have no great Jewish works on the level with The Chronicles of Narnia or Lord of the Rings. His essay, couched as a double review of The Magicians by Lev Grossman and The Water Between the World by Israeli author Hagar Yanai, fixates on the idea that only Tolkien-lite qualifies as fantasy works. Fantasy, he says, needs to embrace wonder. (Apparently “the supernatural itself does not define fantasy literature,” so Judaism’s long tradition of ghost stories, miracles, magical realism and mysticism doesn’t count for much — though no less a fantasy luminary than Terry Pratchett recognized golems as a pretty great addition to his Discworld series.) Weingrad writes that “religion’s capacity for wonder found a haven in fantasy literature,” and that Judaism in particular has “banished the magical and mythological elements necessary for fantasy.” (I would tell him to read The Jew in the Lotus by Rodger Kamenetz, which explores Judaism through engagement with none other than the Dalai Lama. Judaism is rife with wonder. It doesn’t necessarily look like non-Jewish wonder.)

I Went to Middle-Earth photo

Circa 2002: Early attempts at a Tolkien-Jewish medley

One problem that Weingrad does acknowledge is that traditional high fantasy authors such as Tolkien or Lewis are writing with nostalgia about a position of power. Neither Narnia nor Middle-earth are explored in depth from the perspective of those outside the ruling establishment, which, historically, has not generally included Jews. This raises the first of many questions about Weingrad’s expectations for “a Jewish Narnia” — where does he want his Jewishness? Would it be the only culture in this setting? What kind of Jewishness does Weingrad want? American Ashkenazim from major metropolitan areas are far from the only perspective.

Why does high fantasy have to mean generic northern European, which typically makes Jews complete outsiders? Why not choose a setting like medieval Spain, or ancient Israel, or 18th-century Vilna, or the Caribbean and South America? Jews have incredible histories in incredible places, all of which are rich in unimaginable ways and all of which can shed light on Jewish experiences that don’t get much air time. I’d much rather read about the Khazars, a Central Asian kingdom said to have converted to Judaism in the Middle Ages, than yet another pseudo-English construct. I know I’m not the only one. (Guy Gavriel Kay, another well-known Jewish fantasy author, set The Lions of Al-Rassan in a Moorish Spain analog. I have it on good authority that the novel is fantastic.)

This issue goes deeper than setting, though: Weingrad specifically asks for an epic work that is as infused with Jewishness as Narnia is with Christianity. He argues that Judaism is too skittish about magic to allow for what “should” constitute fantasy (apparently dybbuks don’t count, because they’re too folkloric), and he offers no proposals for what should replace it. He calls Judaism a “sci-fi religion,” intensely modern and driven toward progress, and chides the Israeli fantasy author for creating a world that is “essentially modern, mundane and technocratic, with magical forces and creatures substituting our fossil fuels and silicon chips.”

Weingrad wants enchantment in his fantasy. Narnia ends with heavenly reward: at the end of The Last Battle, all those who believe in Aslan follow him “onward and upward” into the true Narnia, where every day is better than the last. As a statement of Christian theology, it’s a potent representation. But you can’t just plug in “Jewish” qualities to a generic Tolkien-lite story and claim you’ve done your job. Weingrad himself says the feat “would require at least a Jewish education equivalent to the philological and medievalist backgrounds” of an Oxbridge don. Even that formulation, however, is characterizing Jews as outsiders in a non-Jewish, northern European establishment. If you want to say “rabbinic or Talmudic education,” just say it. I don’t think that’s strictly necessary, however.

Here’s my proposal. Let’s tell a story about how Jews love and use stories. I want a fantasy world in which learning and discussion are valued and are used to engage with the world, supernatural or otherwise. I want a story which recognizes that evil isn’t a thing that can just be eradicated because we don’t like it, and so tikkun olam, the repair of the world, becomes the story’s spine. I want a world that concerns itself with justice, and which is always fighting for betterment. And of course I wouldn’t mind a quest or two. I’m a sucker for a good quest story.

In the meantime, I almost envy Professor Weingrad. The fantasy genre, Jewish and non, is so much greater than sword-and-wizard tales, even when they’re deconstructed, as in The Magicians. Fantasy is a way to explore worlds that could not exist in the world as we know it, and he has so many wonderful books to read and enjoy for the very first time.

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Spring fever

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02/24/2010

TOV logo

It never fails that by the end of February, I am stir-crazy and absolutely fed up with winter.  I am sick of scratching my dry skin to death and watching my face get paler by the minute.  My motivation to leave my warm couch to venture out on a Saturday night dwindles more and more, and my gloves and earmuffs seem to be staring at me, taunting me with a never-ending winter that shows no sign of abating.

At times like these, I try to visualize my favorite things, a la Sound of Music.  Not really raindrops on roses – more like temperatures above 40 degrees for at least a week straight.  I like to look at my calendar and pick a weekend in April or May and think of all the wonderful springy things I could be doing – visiting the Lincoln Park Zoo with out-of-town guests, playing intramural softball in the park (if I played…anything), or perusing Bucktown boutiques without schlepping my giant puffy coat with me.

If any of this sounds attractive to you, I urge you to consider adding another item to your springtime agenda:  volunteering.

And the best part is that you don’t have to gaze thoughtfully at your imaginary Spring calendar.  You can sign up for a bunch of different projects today.  Here is a small sampling of some opportunities that I can connect you with through the TOV Volunteer Network – JUF’s volunteer services department:

SPRING MITZVAH MANIA

If you are looking for an engaging volunteer project for one afternoon or evening that requires no long term commitment, consider checking out TOV’s Spring Mitzvah Mania.  It’s a great way to dip your toe in the volunteer waters, try something new, and if you like it, TOV can help you pursue long-term volunteer placement.

Projects are offered at several dozen different non-profits throughout the city and the suburbs, including the Chicago Botanic Garden, the JUF Uptown Cafe, CJE SeniorLife, the Good News Community Kitchen and more.

To sign up for a volunteer project, visit the TOV website.

JUF COMMUNITY LEGAL SERVICES

As the newest addition to the TOV umbrella of volunteer opportunities, the JUF Community Legal Services program connects attorneys who volunteer their services pro bono with individuals and families in need of legal services that are unable to afford an attorney.

During the current financial downturn, the need for this service is greater than ever, and TOV is seeking attorneys to handle all types of cases, including but not limited to bankruptcy, foreclosure, family law, power of attorney, wills, and landlord-tenant disputes.

The program is run in conjunction with the Chicago Volunteer Legal Services Foundation, which provides malpractice insurance for all participants in the program, as well as training, support and legal resources for attorneys who are handling cases outside their specialty.  Clinic sessions are held on Monday evenings in Rogers Park, Arlington Heights, and Northbrook, and are by appointment only.

In you or anyone you know is interested in volunteering, please contact me at 312-357-4762 and visit our website for more information.  If anyone you know is in need with pro bono legal aid, please have them contact the Legal Services hotline at 847-568-1525.

ISRAEL SOLIDARITY DAY

What better way to celebrate the improved climate than rallying together with several thousand Jews to demonstrate our bond with the Jewish state at the 2010 Israel Solidarity Day?  ISD is a community-wide rally that mobilizes Jews across Chicago at seven sites throughout the city and suburbs and raises money to help support Israel.

TOV recruits nearly 1,000 volunteers who make this day possible, and volunteering at ISD is great.  You get a free t-shirt, a chance to give back to your community and a great time.  Shifts include greeting, registration, set-up, walk route management, children’s activities and much more.

For more details or to sign-up to volunteer, visit www.juf.org/walk or call the TOV Israel Solidarity Day Volunteer Hotline at (312) 444-2850.

Well Oy!sters, I know it’s a brutally cold one today, but you can certainly warm your heart by calling TOV to register for any of the opportunities that interest you.

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Rush Limbaugh! The Musical

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02/23/2010

Rush Limbaugh! The Musical photo

Those of you who’ve read my columns before are likely aware of two things: a) I could probably use a Valium every so often, and b) I have one of the coolest jobs in the world. My career consists of writing, directing, and performing music and comedy— mostly at Chicago’s Second City theater. And my most recent show, “Rush Limbaugh! The Musical” has proven to be not only my most satisfying, but also my most controversial. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Last year, I co-wrote “Rod Blagojevich Superstar,” a Second City musical that was written in a week, and ran for seven months. (I blogged about that experience on Oy!.) While brainstorming for our next show, we decided to tackle a far bigger personality: both in terms of national renown and sheer bacon-eating heft. (Before you get all upset about me making fun of Rush Limbaugh’s weight, please keep in mind the man referred to a then 12-year-old Chelsea Clinton as a dog and accused Michael J. Fox of exaggerating his effects of Parkinson's. I think ol’ Rushie can take a fat joke or two. And yes, I know the man is thinner now– but he was fat for so long, I’m gonna ride that Twinkie-train forever...)

The Blagojevich show was inherently political— which has become my forte over at Second City. The combination of political satire mixed with musical theater is nothing new, but it’s a fairly new venture under the Second City banner— and I’ve been the guy who’s asked to supply the music and lyrics for these shows. In “Blago,” we savaged the former Democratic governor and the Democratic machine unequivocally— and made Blagojevich appear as a narcissistic idiot. Based on the ticket sales and long run, it was clear that audiences of all political beliefs attended the show. Conservatives loved seeing Second City rake Democrats over the coals (something which is done more often than one would imagine: shows like “Barackstars,” “America: All Better!,” and “Between Barack and a Hard Place” have all gone to great lengths to satirize both the Obama phenomenon and the man himself,) and liberals showed an uncanny ability to laugh at themselves and their often misplaced support for corrupt Illinois Democrats.

My writing partner, Ed Furman, and I knew that satirizing Limbaugh would be a trickier proposition. How does one go after a man whose entire shtick could be easily defined as satire itself? We figured, the only way to do it was to go after the man hard. For me personally, this was not difficult. I have spent the better part of the last decade appalled by what I’ve perceived to be the lies of the extreme right wing and its powerful media arm. (Quick question: if Fox “News” is the most watched news network, and Limbaugh the most listened to radio personality, why is every other media outlet part of the “Mainstream Media?” Isn’t the most popular entity inherently “mainstream?” It seems ludicrous to play the victim card when you’re number one, but somehow they get away with it.)

We began writing the show last fall— having so much time to come up with a script and music & lyrics was actually more daunting than I’d expected. When you have one week to write a topical musical, you don’t second guess yourself or your material— you just “go”. When there’s four months, every joke, lyric, and note of music becomes a challenge..  Further adding to this challenge was my task to write songs that are pastiches of existing Broadway musical tunes. Rather than parodies— where one merely re-writes the lyrics— pastiches are songs which refer to just enough of the original song structure to establish a clear reference point; while making it different enough to be its’ own tune. (This is a device used to great effect by the Monty Python ensemble in their 1970’s Beatles-parody documentary, “The Rutles”.) In “Rush,” you’ll hear elements of “Rent,” “Wicked,” “Spring Awakening,” and many more.

Last fall quickly became late January when rehearsals began. The talented, Jeff-award winning director Matt Hovde (who also directed “Blago”) was again at the helm, and I assumed the double role of composer and musical director— teaching and arranging the score and conducting the band from the piano. There was so much to do that I (thankfully) had precious little time to worry about small issues like you know, “is the show funny?”

Amazingly, even before the show opened, there was controversy. Fox “News” ran a short preview piece asserting that the show would not be favorable to, “allegedly conservative” host Rush Limbaugh. (If Rush Limbaugh is “allegedly conservative,” I can “allegedly dunk a basketball.”) Bloggers took to the Internet to proclaim the show a “liberal hatchet job” and “hate-filled diatribe” against Mr. Limbaugh. There’s a slight problem with these assertions: these were all posted the week before even the actors had seen the script. Life is sure easier when you can form an opinion based on no facts whatsoever, isn’t it? How else do you think Ann Coulter sells so many books?

At Second City, we loved the negative press. What the angry, uninformed types didn’t take into account is that any buzz for a show is inherently good buzz. Furious conservatives kvetching about a show they hadn’t seen – and therefore didn’t realize contains a major b-story where the Democrats are painted as feckless, weak, incompetent, and totally unwilling to put up a fight – was good for business. Word began to spread, tickets began to sell, and opening night arrived.

The generous ovation during opening night absolutely validated the hard work we spent creating and preparing the show. The reviews that scattered in over the next few days ran the gamut— much as we’d expected for a show this polarizing and controversial. The publications which tend to influence theater-goers in Chicago, specifically Time Out, the Reader, the Examiner, Centerstage, and a plethora of theater-focused websites gave the show rave reviews. The Tribune and Sun Times were less kind, and some dude who wrote the book “Nixonland,” used many SAT words to joyfully express his disdain for our show. Good to know a guy who wrote a book about Nixon – a book which a journalist-friend of mine compared to Dwight Gooden’s baseball career (exciting start, stunningly dull middle & finish) is qualified to review a musical comedy.

And yet most satisfyingly, a review in the Southtown Star, provided us with the greatest gift we could have ever asked for. The critic, Betty Mohr, wrote a review that ripped the show to shreds under the guise of vehemently defending Rush Limbaugh. Obviously a Limbaugh fan (though never stated directly), Ms. Mohr labeled the show an outright lie, and added that the show was: “A screaming hate fest…a torrent of venom [performed by] a troupe of zealots…an effort to demonize Limbaugh,” among other wonderfully jaw-dropping comments. Best of all was her closing line: “Hitler once said, if you tell a lie big enough, everyone will believe it. No they won’t. Not anymore.” You read that right – a show I wrote mocking Rush Limbaugh was compared to the words of Adolph Hitler. Oy, I must be doing something right! Not so coincidentally, in the days after Ms. Mohr’s review was posted on Second City’s website and on Facebook, our next two Sunday matinees sold out. Thanks to Ms. Mohr, and completely against what she’d intended, the show now appears headed towards a certain extension.

To any Oy!Chicago readers who enjoy political comedy, musicals, and/or the Canadian classic rock legends Rush (who get a lot of play in the show), you’ll dig “Rush Limbaugh! The Musical” a whole lot. You need not be a dye-in-the-wool liberal, either. The show, as mentioned before, paints liberal Democrats as fools unable to join the fight—  so if you reside in the political center, you’ll also love this show. However, if you swear by Limbaugh’s every word, agree with Glenn Beck that the President is a “racist who hates white people,” or walk around saying to yourself, “you know, I don't care what Obama's legal birth certificate says, the man is a Muslim!” you’ll probably feel a bit like Betty Mohr. In that case, perhaps you’d be better off seeing a revival of “Cats.” For the rest of you? I hope you’ll come see a show that Zev Velancy of Centerstage calls, “one of the sharpest political satires I've seen. See it before Limbaugh's lawyers shut it down.” Who am I to argue with that?

Rush Limbaugh! The Musical plays Tuesday & Wednesday nights at 8:30 and Sundays at 2 p.m. at Second City e.t.c., through March 24th. Go to  www.secondcity.com for tickets.

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Making a mountain out of a bunny hill

 Permanent link
02/22/2010

Making a mountain out of a bunny hill photo

Over the last couple of weekends, I’ve been working on overcoming a fear. As I launched myself down a steep hill, with two pieces of plastic strapped to my feet and two poles in my hands for balance, I remembered that I really hate this kind of thing.

Successfully negotiating that first slope without falling was beyond fulfilling. I wanted to act like an Olympic athlete who had just won gold. I wanted to pump my fists in the air and scream the adrenaline off.

And this wasn’t even downhill skiing. My husband and I have been inspired to return to the sport of our Soviet childhoods and try our hand—or should I say, foot—at cross-country skiing. The old skills sort of came back when I spent three hours on skis in a forest one of the days over Christmas weekend. But I couldn’t manage to make my way downhill without ending up splattered on the snowy curbs. And don’t get me started on the trickiest part: going down a curving hill, which requires you to reorient as you’re hurtling down at supersonic speed. (Well, it’s not really supersonic, but the adrenaline and the fear make it pretty close.)

When I lived in Moscow, our winter gym class would be two hours of cross-country skiing in a nearby park. Twice a week, we’d change into sweats, pick up our wooden(!) skis and jars of special wax and head out to the park. As a 10-year-old, I used my mom’s old skis from the 1970s, which were a bit more temperamental than the plastic ones we recently rented. Even as I would build up speed, I would have to stop to clean off the snowy goop that would get stuck to the bottom of the skis and re-wax them.

By the time we decided to spend the weekend skiing with friends at Kettle Moraine Southern Unit, near Whitewater, Wis., I had regained some of my dexterity on skis. But the successful downhill evaded me still. I barely coped with the tiny slopes at the beginning of the trail. So when I got to the nearly vertical drop down which I was supposed to ski, I briefly considered taking my skis off and turning back. (I admit, I can be a wuss: I’d done that the one time my husband took me alpine skiing.) I let several people pass me as I stood at the top of the hill, watching them fly down the slope with barely any effort.

As the rest of my friends took on the massive hill, I saw some falls and some successes. I saw their speed – frightening! In the end, I decided my pride couldn’t let me just stand there any. I forced myself back onto the ski trail and gingerly began my descent. In the end, there was nothing ginger about it: I built up speed as I went down and would have succeeded without falling if only I knew how to stop or change trajectories. A friend who had skied before me had fallen at the very bottom of hill, which I couldn’t see as I launched myself down, and I couldn’t stop before running into her. No one got hurt, but it made for a big collision.

And yet, here I was, at the bottom, both of us a little the worse for wear, some snow in my boots, but having faced a fear. Now, onto curving hills!

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Limmud Chicago: A Jewish communiversity

 Permanent link
02/19/2010

Limmud Chicago 2010 logo 2

Remy Kaskel wasn’t nervous about the content of her talk about the Sh’ma, the prayer considered central to Judaism. She had presented a similar session two years ago. Mostly, she was anxious about people’s reactions when they saw the slight 14-year-old in front of the classroom. A student at Evanston Township High School, Kaskel taught one of about 100 sessions at the Feb. 14 Limmud Chicago, the international movement’s first local conference.

In the end, Kaskel needn’t have worried: her course on the Sh’ma, which addressed the prayer’s purpose, content and meaning, was the second most-attended session during her time slot. Participant Caroline Musin, a Jewish educator, said the session was among the most inspiring she had attended.

“She handled [the pressure] really well,” said Kaskel’s mother, Debra Yampol, a member of the Limmud Steering Wheel who was responsible for the food at the conference and also attended sessions together with her daughter. “Remy is following in the footsteps of her great-grandfather, who taught at a yeshiva when he was just 12. She’s the kind of person you feel blessed to know, let alone give birth to.”

Kaskel’s session fit perfectly into Limmud’s philosophy, which holds that everyone has something to teach and something to learn.  The very name of the conference emphasizes knowledge acquisition—the Hebrew word limmud means learning.

“One of the things we were aiming for is a wide-enough variety of topics so that there would be at least one or two things that anyone could say, ‘I always wanted to learn about this,’” said educator and University of Chicago Divinity School graduate student Avi Finegold, who co-chaired this year’s conference. “Limmud is an immersive experience in the value of studying Judaism and Jewish text. [But] the ultimate goal is to enhance Jewish education beyond the one day.”

Nearly 400 participants of all ages in the 13-hour educational marathon discussed the interplay of the environment and Jewish festivals, got recipes for vegetarian food for Shabbat, analyzed mental health from a biblical perspective, danced, formed a drum circle, engaged in Israeli-Palestinian dialogue, explored Jewish spirituality, read Yiddish poetry and surveyed the archeology of Jerusalem, among other offerings. Meanwhile, children attended Camp Limmud, a series of fun and educational activities that had them creating hands-on art projects, playing, listening to storytellers and singing.

The idea to bring a variety of disciplines together arose in the United Kingdom more than 30 years ago, when Limmud was a conference for Jewish educators. The movement has spread internationally and now offers conferences throughout Europe and North America as well as in Israel, South Africa and throughout the former Soviet Union.

Even as attendees explored myriad subjects, many focused on the opportunity to improve their personal connection with Judaism and Jewishness.

Jacob Cynamon-Murphy, a Chicago software developer, heard about Limmud through his Birthright Israel NEXT reading group and decided that the conference offered an opportunity for him and wife Rebecca Cynamon-Murphy to continue their exploration of “how to merge our spiritual identities,” he said.

“We chose sessions that would give us some food for thought,” said Jacob Cynamon-Murphy, as he volunteered to direct people to sessions during a break.

Organizers hoped for similar reactions when putting together the Limmud roster, which they tagged as “taking you one step further on your Jewish journey.”

Plans for Limmud Chicago 2011, which will take place during Presidents Day Weekend, are already underway.

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Jewish Olympians hoping to bring home more than a chai necklace

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02/17/2010

Jewish Olympians photo

I have had some fans write in asking about Jewish representation at the 2010 Winter Olympics. We know that Tamar Katz isn't going to be there, but who is? To my knowledge there are five participants in this year’s Olympic Games.

Israel is sending three participants and I am hopeful that they can bring home at least one medal. Two of them are brother and sister pair, Alexandra and Roman Zaretsky. They are entered in the couples’ ice dance competition later this week. Roman started skating in Minsk while his sister, Alexandra, did not begin until their family immigrated to Israel. They train at the Metulla ice rink near the Lebanese border, which is the same rink Tamar Katz trained on (it is the only real ice rink in Israel). They both moved to Israel in 1990. They competed in 2006 placing 22nd. But they finished 9th at the 2008 World Championships and 1st in the 2009 World University Games. Their chances are pretty good for receiving a medal this time around.

The third member of the Israeli delegation is skier, Mikail Renzhin. He participated in the 2006 Winter Games but did not win a medal. He finished 32nd in the giant slalom and 37th in the slalom. Renzhin will once again compete in both events. Renzhin was born in Latvia but moved to Israel at the age of 22. He spent his first years in Israel learning Hebrew and did a short stint in the Israeli army. Immediately after immigrating, he contacted the Israeli Ski Federation and was able to continue as a competitive skier. Renzhin now trains in the USA.

I have been able to track down two other Jewish participants: Laura Spector and Ben Agosto. Laura Spector represented the USA as part of the biathlon team. The biathlon is a combination of cross country skiing and rifle shooting. At 22, she is the youngest member of the biathlon team, and at only five feet tall, she is also the smallest member of the US Olympic team. She is currently a student at Dartmouth majoring in genetics and Jewish studies.

Finally, there is Ben Agosto who won a silver medal in the 2006 Olympics as a part an ice-dancing pair. Agosto almost missed the 2006 Olympics because his partner, the Canadian-born skater Tanith Belbin, had yet to finalize her American citizenship. Agosto is ready to compete again this year, which he says should be his last Olympics.

Know of any other Jewish Olympians? Let me know by commenting below.

For more Jewish articles on the Olympics visit www.TheGreatRabbino.com.
And Let Us Say...Amen.

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The stuff they don’t tell you in any intro-to-Judaism class about being a Jew

 Permanent link
02/15/2010

Off the top of my head, here’s…

The stuff they don’t tell you in any intro-to-Judaism class about being a Jew:

1. No matter how accepting your family is of your religious choice, you are now different. And sometimes this difference might make you a little sad—it can be lonely when your family isn’t sitting at the Seder table, or breaking the fast with you. My advice so you don’t feel alienated from your family: include them in your traditions and life as much as possible, and return their acceptance by participating in their lives and religious practices as you are comfortable and able.

2. Nobody comes to a Saturday morning service on time. Except for maybe the b’nai mitzvah family. And it’s OK to get up and go to the bathroom—the whole room won’t turn around and watch you exit.

3. Nobody cares if you were born-Jewish or converted to Judaism. Either way, you are Jewish. (This comes with all sorts of footnotes—see your Rabbi for details.)

4. Jews love to discover that you are also Jewish. Especially when you have a non-Jewish last name. And don’t expect your last name to explain that you are a Jew by choice either. I’ve been asked if Flayhart was Polish, and when I responded it was Irish, the response was, “wow, I never knew an Irish Jew before.” (And this person was serious.)

5. Born-Jews are fascinated by your choice to become Jewish. Be prepared for a lot of questions—people are flattered that you thought so highly of Judaism that, despite the obvious, inherent challenges, you pursued your religious choice. But sometimes the questioning can make you a little uncomfortable or feel too probing. If this is ever the case, feel free to excuse yourself—it’s no-one’s business but yours, and there is no right or wrong reason why you chose to be Jewish, or how you practice your religion.

6. Jewish people love their dogs, Nordstrom, Costco (except Linda Haase), and Toyotas. If there is reincarnation, I’d like to come back as a Jewish-owned poodle. And Toyotas are good cars, recalls and all.

7. You will most likely gain 10 pounds the first year you have converted. Maybe it was just me, but all of those Shabbat dinners and holidays with endless amounts of food torpedoed my waistline.

8. It’s OK to miss celebrating Christmas. I’ll never have a tree in my home, and I don’t want to. But this doesn’t mean I don’t get nostalgic for my childhood, or stop me from celebrating Christmas with my family—important in keeping up the family relations. The moral: do whatever makes you happy. No one is going to strip you of your “Jewishness” if you watch Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer for the one millionth time.

9. There are a million little and big differences between the various streams of Judaism—and you will probably have to explain a little bit of this to your non-Jewish family. Some of my family seriously expected when they met my husband—a reform Jew—to meet a man with a full beard, black and white clothes with fringes, and payas, because this is what they saw on TV. I had to explain that as with Christianity, there is much diversity in Judaism.

10. The first time you experience anti-Semitism, you probably won’t realize it, and when you do, you will be probably be more pissed off than someone who was born-Jewish. I was in the middle of Ohio when a sales woman recoiled when I explained why the cross she showed me wasn’t of interest. It wasn’t until I left the store, that I realized her reaction to me, and I was mad. I’ve found that I get more upset than my born-Jewish husband and friends about this—maybe it’s  because I was raised Christian and taught to be accepting of others, so I have zero tolerance. Or maybe it’s the Irish in me…

11. You don’t have to cram a whole lifetime of knowledge into your conversion process. Becoming Jewish is only the first step in your journey—you will learn more throughout your lifetime and probably want to practice Judaism in different ways along the journey. You don’t have to know everything right now—just enjoy it!

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Cheers! Chicago: Cocktail Celebrations from Osiris to Jerry Thomas to you and me

 Permanent link
02/12/2010

Cheers! Chicago: Cocktail Celebrations photo

Since the dawn of civilization, man has harnessed the power of the process of fermentation and enjoyed the fruits of their labor – or lack of labor, I should say. After all, it was spoiled grapes and grape juice or grain mash they were drinking that had been left over or sitting around untouched or unused. And for as long as we’ve been boozing, we’ve been telling stories about where it came from, how it got discovered, what it’s used for, and what it does to you and to others. As early as 4000 BCE the Egyptians were brewing fermented beverages as instructed by their gods because it pleased them. Historians write that the ancient Egyptians made at least 17 types of beer and at least 24 varieties of wine, and that alcoholic beverages were used for pleasure, nutrition, medicine, ritual, remuneration and funerary purposes. Today’s topic of focus…you guessed it. I mean, they don’t call it aqua vitae (water of life) for nothing.

This month, many of us will experience the romance and passion that is Valentine’s Day. As we all know— passion and romance can be amplified with a little alcohol. But did anyone wonder what it was like to celebrate and enjoy life in ancient times – with alcohol? Believe it or not, there is quite a bit of history of alcohol and romance. We already know about the ancient Egyptian’s experiments…what about the Chinese, the Greeks and the Romans? Well, the earliest evidence of alcohol in China are wine jars that date to about 5000 BCE— produced by fermenting rice, honey, and fruit. People drank when holding a memorial ceremony, offering sacrifices to gods or their ancestors, and while attending the ceremonies of birth, marriage, reunions, departures, death, and festival banquets. They sure knew how to celebrate!

For the Babylonians, beer was the beverage of choice. As early as 2,700 BCE, Babylonians worshipped a wine goddess and other wine deities. As for the ancient Greeks, while they espoused and led moderate lives around the same time period as the Babylonians, let’s not forget the cult of Dionysus and their theory of excessive drinking and intoxication leading you closer to a higher power. As tributes to other nations, leaders would send both concubines and barrels full of fermented goodness, and they were frequently enjoyed simultaneously. And it was only 150 years ago when someone named Jerry Thomas finally said, “hey, let’s take everything we would use to make a beverage or medicine and figure out tasty recipes and ways to combine them and better enjoy them.” Now, drinking became not only medicinal, but also fun and exciting to create, experience and taste.

What was most interesting to learn about all of this was that all of the different beverages were available and accessible to everyone, and were neither elaborate to make nor difficult to store or enjoy.

Remember folks, the booze does not make the celebration. This is why I love what I do, and why I keep doing it: to simply celebrate and enjoy life.

L’Chaim!

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Bravo, Canada!

 Permanent link
02/11/2010

Bravo, Canada! photo 1

Perhaps, the Canadians have young Jewish women figured out better than anybody.

Recently, I have become enamored with the show, Being Erica —so much so, that it made my highly selective DVR list a couple weeks ago.

I’m slightly embarrassed to admit that I happened upon the show when I was catching up on old reruns of Beverly Hills 90210—the high school years, on SOAPnet one Saturday afternoon. What can I say—SOAPnet is how I take in my mental rest on the Sabbath?

However, Being Erica does not feel like a 90210 or a One Tree Hill, or a Days of Our Lives, for that matter. It’s dramatic, but not in the tragically trashy way.

The main character Erica Strange, a 32-year-old woman, suffers many of the trials and tribulations young women face with dating, difficult co-workers at her publishing job, siblings with impossible in-laws and friends who are rushing to the alter or popping out babies, while she remains single, broke and frustrated.

She enters therapy to cope. Who knew Jews in Canada—like their American counter-parts—need therapy too? However, there’s a catch, the therapy involves time travel. I know this sounds like a weird 1980s after-school special, but I promise it’s better.

Bravo, Canada! photo 2

Through her therapy she’s able to re-visit past events and regrets and try those scenarios over again—she even revisits her Bat Mitzvah in one episode.

Strange gets a do-over during every hour-long episode, which includes a conflict in her life in the present, which then gets dissected, clarified and illuminated through revisiting a past event that mirrors the present.

The SOAPnet site describes her journeys: “Guided by the mysterious Dr. Tom, she weaves through present and past, realizing she needs to take control of her own destiny.”

All I have to say is—bravo, Canada, bravo! Finally, we have a show that portrays a modern woman that is in touch with her own emotions, intelligent, independent, modern, real and trying to take control of her own destiny.

If one merely looks at the title of the show, Being Erica, it hits on the fact that the main character is in a transitive state. She exists in each moment in her life, trying to figure it out—much as anyone is—on a day-to-day basis. Granted, her problems fit into one-hour episodes with some carry-over, but her character does live in the moment—a rarity for the modern TV character.

The realness of Erica is ironic, I suppose, because she exists in such a surreal world where time travel is somehow OK, but she herself, is someone you might meet on the street. She doesn’t wear a ton of makeup, she can be awkward at times and she’s vulnerable—something one also doesn’t see on TV often these days.

I would say many women on TV are glossy, weigh 2 pounds and cry without earning it, within the context of the show. In addition, the fact that Strange is Jewish is not neatly tucked into a stereotypical box—it’s just one part of who she is on the show.

The show is all about her mending the relationships in her life, and many of them are not romantic in nature. The show does not tread lightly, but rather deals with sexuality, death, family relations and identity—the ingredients of life.
 
The Canadian broadcasting Web site features the show and also has a page that asks the question, “If you could go back in time to any point in your life, what point would that be? Why would you choose that moment, and what might you do differently?”

I know that we cannot perform the miracle of time travel. However, I do believe that it’s possible to take control of our own destinies by taking a moment to reflect on our relationships with others, how past moments could have been handled better, and ways in which we can mend, heal and grow.

Oy!Chicago bloggers are big fans of "Being Erica." If Blair's review of the show piqued your interest, check out Sharna's interview with the show's writer and producer, Jana Sinyor.

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Why I made aliyah

 Permanent link
02/10/2010

Why I made aliyah photo

Me with Shimon Peres

Are you crazy? Why would you ever move here? What's better Israel or the USA?

These are the usual questions I encounter on a daily basis when I'm interacting with taxi drivers, bank managers, check out girls or men trying to hit on me. My answers have changed only slightly since I made aliyah 2.5 years ago.

I always saw myself living in a foreign country for an extended period of time. Being a Spanish literature major the choices were either a Spanish speaking country or perhaps Israel due to my ingrained connection to the state. When I graduated from college six years ago, I went to Israel to volunteer for 10 months on a wonderful program called OTZMA.There, we were living and volunteering in peripheral towns and areas that most tourists and even Israelis never get to. It solidified a love for the goodness and the potential that I saw in this country.

Afterwards I decided that I wanted to make aliyah, but on my own terms. I was not coming to bring peace to the Middle East, rather I saw Israel as a place that I could flourish in and enjoy. After working and saving money, I settled in Tel Aviv and started the slow ascent to making myself comfortable in my new surroundings. My job in the beginning was to learn Hebrew and make friends.

Now 2.5 years later, I am quite proficient in Hebrew, have a job that I am satisfied with, dear friends who I consider family, and the freedom to do what I please.

Making aliyah is a personal choice and does not make one a martyr. I came here because I wanted to and I can leave here when I choose— a situation that most people are not as fortunate to have.

Am I crazy? Yes, a little bit. Why would I ever move here? Because I love the energy of this country, the weather, and I was bit with that Zionist bug a long time ago that makes me believe in a Jewish state. What's better, Israel or the USA? Well it's like comparing McIntosh apples and Jaffa oranges. Each has its own flavor and its own pros and cons.

Try explaining that to your Israeli cab driver…

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Chocolate

 Permanent link
02/08/2010

Chocolate photo

Often lovingly referred to as the “other food group,” chocolate has become an obsession, inspiring everything from recipes, stories, cravings and a host of products from funky-flavored chocolate bars to bubble bath.

Cacao trees are native to Mexico, Central and South America. Cultivated for over 3,000 years, Mayans drank chocolate both as an everyday beverage and for ceremonial purposes. The frothy bitter concoction was mixed with vanilla, chile peppers and achiote (annatto). Turning cacao beans into the tasty sweet confection we all know and crave is a complicated process—only a handful of companies all over the world truly make their own chocolate. Most candy shops buy chocolate in blocks, melt it and shape it into candies and other sweet treats.

Xocoatl, as it was known in the Mayan culture, was believed to be used to fight fatigue due to the theobromine content. Today, chocolate is considered to have many therapeutic benefits including cancer-fighting antioxidants, circulatory benefits and many studies are being conducted on using chocolate to fight obesity. While this is certainly good news and really any excuse to eat chocolate is a good one, I urge you to take heed of the adage “you get what you pay for.”

Not all chocolate is good chocolate. In fact, there is a lot of bad chocolate out there. Thankfully, it is easy to find the good stuff. Look at the ingredients on the label. There should be just a small handful of ingredients: CACAO PASTE, sugar, COCOA BUTTER, lecithin, and vanilla for dark chocolate. For milk chocolate add milk and for white chocolate, (which is not really chocolate due to the fact that it does not have cocoa paste or cocoa mass but does have cocoa butter) mix sugar, cocoa butter, milk or milk powder and vanilla. That’s it! No other ingredients should be in the chocolate. Notice that cacao paste is listed first. Great chocolate should have a high concentration of cacao, not other ingredients.

There are many great chocolates on the market that are kosher. In fact, there is no reason that great chocolate cannot be kosher. I am lucky enough to have recently been in Paris where I slurped and stuffed myself full of chocolate for one solid week. Armed with my list of kosher chocolate companies and bakeries, I ate my way through the city of lights. You also can enjoy amazing chocolate if you follow a few simple rules.

• Buy the good stuff. You are feeding your family and friends. They deserve the good chocolate. Do not cut corners. Cheap chocolate cannot be disguised by any amount of other ingredients in a recipe. My favorites are: Callebaut chocolates, for cooking, baking and eating, and Valrhona Cocoa powder, an amazing cocoa powder with a deep, dark color and flavor.

• Remember Chef Laura’s golden rule: do not use substitute ingredients. Butter is butter, cream is cream, margarine is never good and non-dairy whipped topping comes from a laboratory and should not be ingested by humans.

Now that you have the rules-go forth and enjoy!

Chili Con Carne

The chocolate in this recipe adds not only a faint sweetness but also an earthy and robust flavor. I love the way the chocolate makes the texture of the chili velvety. My kids like to garnish their chili with additional chopped chocolate and cacao nibs which are the cracked shell of the cacao bean. They add a crunch as well as cocoa butter fragrance. Cocoa nibs are found easily in the baking aisle of most grocery stores and online.

2 pounds lean ground beef
2 large red onions, diced
6 cloves of garlic, minced
2 ancho chiles, stemmed, seeded, toasted and torn into pieces
1 chipotle chile
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons ground coriander
2 15-ounce cans tomato puree
1 3-ounce can tomato paste
1 32-ounce can whole plum tomatoes
2 cups dried pinto beans or canned
2 cups dark brown chicken stock (see recipe, page)
2 cups dark beer-such as Guinness or Aventinus
¼ cup finely chopped dark chocolate

1. Brown the beef in batches in olive oil over medium heat. Brown the onions until they are caramelized and soft. Add the garlic and continue cooking for 2 minutes until the garlic has softened slightly. Add the remaining ingredients to the slow cooker and cook on HIGH for 3 hours until the beans are tender. Remove the chipotle chile before serving.

Suggested garnishes: fresh or frozen corn niblets, lime wedges, tortilla chips, fresh flat leaf parsley and fresh cilantro, chopped scallions, chopped jalapeno peppers, chopped red onions, cocoa nibs, chopped chocolate

DIY Chocolate bubble bath

Looking for a chocolate recipe that won’t go to your thighs? Here’s one you can really enjoy!

1 cup of unscented bubble bath
½ cup of dried milk powder
3 ounces powdered unsweetened chocolate

Mix the powdered milk and chocolate well, until blended.  Stir into bubble bath until well mixed. Add to your bath in the amount desired. Relax and enjoy the fragrance of chocolate without worrying your waistline!

Chocolate Pound Cake

We cannot have a meal in our house without chocolate. I wrote this recipe years ago when I was looking for a good pareve pound cake. I wanted a simple presentation that did not require lots of fuss but still delivered the big chocolate flavor I was looking for. Attention home cooks: there is no margarine in this recipe because you can still have your cake and eat it too-even pareve!

1 cup all-purpose flour
½ cup best quality cocoa powder (I only use Valrhona)
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate (I only use Callebaut 71%), melted
3 eggs
½ cup brewed coffee
1 ½ cups brown sugar
½ cup canola oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Lightly grease a loaf pan with canola oil and then dust it with cocoa powder.

1. Whisk the dry ingredients together in a large mixing bowl. Set aside
2. Mix the chocolate, eggs, coffee, brown sugar and vanilla together in a small mixing bowl.
3. Mix the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients. Be careful not to over mix or the cake will be tough. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake in a preheated oven for 50-60 minutes until a toothpick can be inserted and will have moist crumbs on it.
4. Place the cake pan on a cooling rack and allow to cool for 1 hour. Run a knife around the edge of the cake and unmold onto a plate. Dust with powdered sugar.

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Like It? Put a ring on it.

 Permanent link
02/05/2010

Like It? Put a ring on it. photo

After dating for five agonizingly frustrating years, I finally got the procrastinating bastard my beshert down the aisle.  The news of our engagement came as a great relief to my friends and family—my father’s actual response was: “Well, it’s about time.”

It goes without saying that couples should date as long as they want/need/could/should.  However, most people would agree that five years is a significant amount of time to waste on date “the one”.  That five years of hard core solid couplehood—you’ve vacationed with each other’s families, you’ve discussed names for your unborn children, your friends have come up with a catchy brand name for the two of you—is enough to drive even the most non-traditional and independent woman mad.  At least, that’s how it was for me.

By year three of our relationship, I had verbal diarrhea on the topic.  I wanted to stop bringing it up with him, with my friends, but I just couldn’t.  (My friends were really, really great during all of this.  They were rewarded with an open bar reception.)  Rationally, I knew that since he was in the midst of a major career and life change that he didn’t then consider himself “marriage material”.  (A funny thing about lots of men, they actually need to be ready too.  Huh.  Who would’ve known?)  But, despite his reassurances that he loved me, I could not but help wonder if I needed to move on.  I wasn’t getting any younger.

Messing with my head were all of the stereotypes and clichés in existence that warn women to beware of the men that “just aren’t into you”—the men who do love you, are happy to be with you for an indeterminate amount of time, but will never, ever marry you.  We eventually broke up, but wound up back together months later, in exactly the same spot.

And then two things changed.  One:  I made a major move (literally, I moved cities) to be with him.  Three weeks later, he popped the question.  Two: I stopped my constant nagging we both stopped focusing on marriage, and instead focused on simply enjoying being together.  All the negative energy had sucked the fun out of our relationship, and out of the act of getting engaged.  The more I pressed him about it, the more the stubborn asshole my husband dug in his heels.  And really, who could blame him?

Now, after three plus years with the ball and chain of married bliss, the length of time we dated seems completely irrelevant.  We’ve got a great relationship, a beautiful daughter and a wonderful life.  It goes to show that the so-called dating “rules” are often little more than complete bullshit grossly generalized fears that play on women’s insecurities.

So what should you do when the fucker “Mr. or Ms. Wonderful” is dragging his/her heels?  I have no idea.  But here’s some obvious advice on what NOT to do:

• Don’t deliver any ultimatums you aren’t prepared to carry through and can live with.  And don’t play games.

• Don’t forget to talk about marriage and your future life together to make sure this person is “the one.”   I have a good friend that never discussed religious differences or their consequences with her fiancé, only to have it all come to a head when she found out they couldn’t be married in her church or he in his synagogue.  They never made it down the aisle.

• Don’t confuse marriage and a wedding.  Duh.

• Don’t compare yourself to other couples.  Especially the ones who get engaged after six months.  This isn’t a race or competition.  Remind yourself of that while drinking heavily at their weddings.

• Decide if, and how long, you are willing to wait and accept that this is your choice to make.  And really, consider moving on if he/she tells you they do not want marriage.  Ever.  Repeat after me: “He/She is just NOT that into you.”

• Try not to talk about your relationship constantly with all of your friends and family.  Not only will it annoy the hell out of them, they might start to hate your man (or woman).

• Don’t listen to bitter women who freak you out about wasting your time.  Only you know what’s right for you.  My husband’s aunt and uncle dated for 11 years, and are very happily married.  My uncle never dates longer than a year, and he has been divorced 4 times.

So, to all you single ladies out there, I wish you much love and luck in your romantic endeavors.  And whatever happens, please remember one cliché is ALWAYS true: if she/he isn’t “the one”, that person is out there.  And probably with less back hair too.

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Nostalgia

 Permanent link
02/04/2010

Nostalgia photo

Daydreaming of a Dream House

When I was a kid, my across-the-street friend had a Barbie Dream House. It was amazing. It had three floors and a working elevator…and you know the best part? For a good portion of its life it lived at my house. I don't remember why or how it got there, but it made me so happy. My friend would come over and we would play with our Barbies in that house for hours and hours. I remember my "main" Barbie was blond (duh) but with short curly hair. I had others, but she was my go-to girl. Between us, we only had one Ken doll. He was mine and he was "Boogie Ken." His upper torso and legs were attached with some kind of rubber band that allowed his body to wiggle and groove. He also had a hole in his plastic hand where a ring with a big red jewel fit into one of his fingers. His outfit was a navy velour jumpsuit with a maroon collar.

Ken played many roles—mailman, husband, boyfriend, plumber, cheater. And even though he was the same doll each time, my Barbie greeted him according to his chosen role for the day. They made out. A lot. Especially when he was the mailman, for some reason. The whole rubber band situation must have made him a fantastic lover. Barbie thought so anyway.

My Barbie had a dog named Beauty which was some kind of afghan beast. It came with a little yellow dog bowl. Sometimes, we'd boot Beauty from the house and bring in Scooter, my hamster. I'd put nuts and seeds in Beauty's tiny bowl and Scooter would go to town. Barbie also occasionally had a baby. But mostly she smooched Ken and changed her outfits. She was generally shoeless as keeping them on was difficult—Barbie has one hell of an arch.

That Barbie Dream House was huge in my life. I don't remember any adults being around when I played with it—just me, my neighbor and our imagination about what life was going to be like for us as grownups. Recently, at a Toys"R"Us visit, I saw the Barbie Dream House. It looked a little different— updated, slicker—but I was flooded with nostalgia. It took everything in me not to buy it. But like most things, when you try to go back, you end up disappointed. It’s not what you thought, not quite as great as you remember. So, I'm just hoping that one day my kid will want a Barbie Dream House, and I can watch her act out what she thinks life will be like when she's a grownup. Then, I can create a new memory through the eyes of my daughter. And who knows? Maybe she'll invite me to play. A mom can dream, right? It's the Barbie "Dream House" after all...

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Firing your personal trainer

 Permanent link
02/03/2010

It’s happened to me. Some, I didn’t work hard enough; others, I worked too hard. One time, this woman called me and said, “I have severe post workout muscle soreness, I can’t come anymore.” Another time, I had a slick trainer steal my client with a smooth promotion...Sure I was pissed at first, but that client started busting her butt and working out everyday and I’m proud of her. If you’re not getting the results you want, speak up and make a change.

Like any healthy relationship, communication is the key to a good training season. I always ask my clients, how do you feel, is this too easy, is this too hard. But, I wasn’t always like that. When I first started training people, I just wanted to break them down Jillian Michaels style. My first job at Bally’s was to train people who bought a membership and got three free sessions. The hope—that these people would continue to train once the sessions ran out. Well, my first month, many people never came back after the first free session. This one girl told me she had to go to the hospital because her butt muscles were so sore (get your head out of the gutter). My response was, “really?” Her answer, “no, but I couldn’t walk right for a week.” And she never came back. Whether your trainer is a friend, coworker, parent or me—be vocal. If you’re trainer doesn’t listen, pink slip him.

Even if you’re not about to fork over money for a trainer, learn to have good form some other way. You can do this by watching demonstrations on Youtube or asking someone at your gym. When I see trainers letting their clients get away with bad form, it rips away at my insides; I just want to yell, “DUDE! LOOK AT THEIR BACK!” I actually lost a client because she wanted to be beaten like an egg but had horrible form and I wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t figure out why her knee hurt or why she kept spraining her ankle. Well, work on balance and core strength! A good trainer should help you prevent injury and other health issues. When I train people, I look at the following signs:

• Heavy breathing
• Bad form
• Heart rate
• Shortness of breath
• Core Strength
• Posture
• Gait

Do not use the Biggest Loser as guidelines for healthy living. It’s unrealistic to lose 10 pounds in one week, and it’s not good for you. I’m all for a ball-busting workout, but build up to that carefully. If your motivator is making you puke or feel light headed, take it down a notch. I had one client who was a freak of nature for 45 minutes and after that he crashed. It could be diet, sleep or fitness level but listen to your body. Don’t get me wrong, slackers will not see results.

Speaking of slackers, remember, training is not talking time. Whether you are working out with a friend or trainer, you still need to be working. I’m all for small talk, but come to the gym to workout. If your workout buddy is a chatty Cathy, you have a few options:

• Nicely tell them to shut up
• Find a new partner
• Stay on task, hurry to the next exercise

Most trainers, including me, are part therapist, but when it’s time to work we get quiet.

Don’t get me wrong, I still think you should enjoy your workout. I’m no Chris Rock, but I try and make my sessions fun and enjoyable. If you really hate the gym, find something you enjoy, like dancing or boxing, and if your trainer is mean, fire him. I had a friend tell me her trainer was mean to her. She asked me what to do; I gave her the name of a nice trainer. She now looks great and actually looks forward to her workouts. So stop reading already, and go have some fun in the gym!

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Jewish Music for… February?

 Permanent link
02/02/2010

Jewish Music for February photo

February is African-American History month. And the history of American music is a story of blacks and Jews working in, literally, harmony. Even back in the earliest part of the 20th Century, African-American singer Paul Robeson performed spirituals alongside Yiddish folksong, while the first racially integrated ensemble was led by Jewish bandleader Benny Goodman.

More recently, explicitly Jewish music has been made by bands— or even individuals— who combine African-American and Jewish elements.

Take Joshua Nelson, the self-proclaimed Prince of Kosher Gospel Music. He has fused gospel sounds and Jewish content, both in his work and his life. In his career, he has shared a stage with both Aretha Franklin and the Klezmatics. When not performing or recording, Nelson is both a Hebrew teacher at a synagogue school… and the director of music at a Baptist church. Hear his “Adon Olam.”

More Jewish-gospel fusion can be heard on a recent recording by Neshama Carlebach. On Higher and Higher, she uses the 24-voice Green Pastures Baptist Church Choir as backup singers while performing the music of her father, Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. Both Carlebach and the choir sing in both English and Hebrew. (My review of the album is here, my interview with her about the album is here, and you can hear samples of the music itself by going here and clicking “Music.”

On a more jazzy note is the Afro-Semitic Experience, a combo co-founded by a Jewish bassist, David Chevan (my podcast with him can be heard here and African-American pianist Warren Byrd. The band has recorded a half-dozen albums containing both Jewish and African-American liturgical songs with a mix of modern and traditional instruments. Hear theirAdon Olam.”

Other interesting music comes from Jews who are not African-American, but simply African. Many of the Ethiopian Jews airlifted to Israel (thanks, in part, to JUF) have become musical performers. One standout is Alula Tzadik, who performs under his first name. In his music, one can clearly hear the African basis of reggae music— and in his lyrics, the Jewish influence on Rasta and reggae imagery. Strictly speaking, his reggae is only one part of his sound, which is largely East African.

Southwest of Ethiopia is the nation of Uganda. There, in 1919, a regional governor came upon a Bible left by Christian missionaries. He read it… and converted to Judaism. Then he converted the rest of his people. Called the Abayudaya, the community has been connected to the larger Jewish world through an organization called Kulanu (Hebrew for “all of us”), which integrates such far-flung Jewish communities with the rest of the Jewish world. This organization published an album of original Abayudaya melodies to Jewish songs. Then the Smithsonian Folkways label produced another album of their music, which was nominated for a Grammy. (One note— in the Ugandan language, all words end in vowels, which affects their pronunciation of Hebrew.)

Three notable mainstream African-American singers who converted to Judaism were Sammy Davis, Jr., Jackie Wilson, and Nell Carter. Carter, remembered as an actress for her sitcom Gimme a Break, once recorded a gospel-inflected version of the Chanukah song “Rock of Ages.” It’s track 6.

The centrality of the Scriptures and their rich imagery… the historical arc from oppression to liberation… the values of freedom, responsibility, and hope— all are shared by both peoples. Enjoying the merger of Jewish liturgy with gospel, jazz, reggae, and African sounds is a fascinating way to see how Jewish and African-American cultures have influenced each other. It’s also just great music.

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An update on the Chicago Jewish community’s contribution to Haiti relief efforts

 Permanent link
01/29/2010

An update on the Chicago Jewish photo 1

Less than two weeks after the devastating Jan. 12 earthquake in Haiti, the Jewish Federation’s Haitian Earthquake Relief Fund has reached more than $600,000, with donations from more than 3,300 contributors. A large portion of these funds have been funneled the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), which has supported an Israeli field hospital and food and water distribution to survivors, and is planning future rebuilding efforts, and IsraAID, a coalition of Israeli and Jewish organizations that coordinates emergency response and relieve efforts worldwide.

Along with other Israeli relief workers, an IsraAID delegation was among the first rescue teams on the ground. Volunteer doctors and nurses were working with teams from other countries and have treated more than 1,300 patients, some of whom required life-saving operations in an Israeli field hospital.

An update on the Chicago Jewish photo 2

Funds raised through the Federation’s Haitian relief effort also have been sent to the Israeli volunteer rescue organization ZAKA, which freed at least a dozen people from beneath rubble, and the American Jewish World Service, which is working with its on-the-ground partners to provide relief in affected areas outside Port-au-Prince.

Federation is continuing its efforts to provide relief in the disaster area. Contributions to the Jewish Federation Haitian Earthquake Relief Fund can be made at www.juf.org/relief_fund or by calling the hotline: 312.444.2869. 100% of collected donations go directly to support non-sectarian needs on the ground; the Jewish Federation is absorbing all administrative costs.

An update on the Chicago Jewish photo 3

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Sleep is for the weak? Count me in!

 Permanent link
01/28/2010

Sleep is for the weak photo

I take all my cues from my guy Gus

For some reason I am convinced that the whole world needs constant updates on my sleep schedule. No matter what time you run into me, I am likely to report on how much I did or didn’t sleep the night before. Sleep or lack thereof can make me groggy, cheerful, snappy or just plain off-the-wall. Six hours is about my floor for minimum functionality: anything less and you’re really gambling with which Esther shows up in the morning.

In college, of course, this used to be okay. (At my school, “Sleep is for the weak” is an unofficial motto.) You could rehearse a play until 10 pm, host a get-together with friends until 2 am and be mostly functional for an opening shift at the coffee shop (or fake lucidity for a 9 am class) before stealing a nap during the two-hour break before your next rehearsal. Somehow it would add up to eight hours, more or less. But—and part of me still can’t believe I’m saying this—I’m 25 now and holding down a real job, with a real work week. The piggy bank method of catching up on your sleep debt isn’t cutting it anymore.

I’m not the only one obsessed with sleep: the Huffington Post has been running a sleep challenge, using the new year as an opportunity to raise awareness about the benefits of better sleep, but also to share stories about the outcomes, hilarious or otherwise, of not stocking up on Zs. It’s also less intimidating than the reams of stories you see about the dire effects of sustained sleep loss: heart trouble, fatigue, high blood pressure, premature aging, reduced immunity, you name it. Get the full story from HuffPo here.

The arguments for sleep are easy –waking up fully rested speaks for itself. Making it happen, on the other hand, sometimes seems like a monumental task, especially during the week. I hear that. I’m taking improv comedy classes, which means I’m supposed to go see shows at night. Sometimes that means I get home for the first time after midnight, and my alarm goes off at 6:46. (Sleep deprivation does not, by the way, make you funnier.)

I like my sleep, though. I’m very fond of it. This year I’m actively trying to minimize the amount of sleep I lose. The system isn’t perfect, but so far it’s been a good start.

1. Separate your space. Last year I moved from a studio apartment to a one-bedroom, which was a huge deal for me. Sleeping in the same room in which you eat, entertain friends and keep your computer makes it easy to justify checking your email or cleaning up when it’s right there. Being able to put a wall or a door between myself and all that makes me focus on slowing down. If you don’t have that option, no worries: just commit yourself to getting in bed and staying there.

2. Get offline! I have a very unhealthy relationship with the Internet. My laptop generally wakes up when I do. At the end of the day, though, I try to walk away from it about an hour and a half before I turn out the lights. I know I’d be using that time to endlessly refresh sites that never update at that hour, and reading books is much less aggravating. (My own mantra is that the Internet will, in fact, still be there in the morning. The same thing applies to TV.)

3. Caffeine ends in the afternoon. Chicago is cold in the winter. Behind the clouds, the sky is also blue. I love a hot chocolate when I get out of work. But stimulants like sugar or caffeine keep me buzzing for hours afterward. If you want to get a good night’s rest, the general recommendation is to have your last coffee around 2 pm. Herbal teas are just as hot and delicious, though!

4. Move around. Some weekends I am a lump. I hang out and putter around and at the end of the day, even though I’m tired, it takes forever to actually seal the deal and fall asleep. Physical activity, even just walking through a neighborhood, makes a big difference in your sleep schedule.

5. Have a routine. Do the same thing every night. At the same time is ideal, but not always practical. Give yourself all the right signals that it’s time for the day to be over. If my lights are out and I still can’t turn my brain off, I like to count backward from a hundred.

During sleep, your body calls time-out to process what’s happened to it, physically, emotionally and mentally. How much you need varies from person to person, but if lifestyle and not other issues is preventing you from getting enough, small changes can help recalibrate your time and make room for more rest. (As always, if you’re concerned about your sleep cycles, see a doctor.)

By the way, if you’re curious: six hours last night (I was caught up in a good book), but otherwise not too shabby.

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My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad morning

 Permanent link
01/27/2010

Have you ever woken up and just known that it was going to be a rough day?  I have, and today was it.  There are some days when the alarm goes off, and even after hitting snooze no fewer than four times, you just can’t seem to wake up, and even a shock of cold water in the shower doesn’t snap you out of it.

So this morning, I finally stumble into something semi-presentable, gathered up my cell phone, a can of soup for lunch and a scarf to shield myself from the renewed vigor of the Chicago winter.  Halfway out the door, I remembered to grab the new book that I just checked out from the library last night, because a Metra ride without a book is like…well it’s long and quiet and boring.

So I trudge through the cold, already running ten minutes late, and as I hit the Metra stairs at a near run, I realized that my Metra monthly pass was still sitting on my dining room table inside last week’s train book.  UGH.

Now, I’m not a girl who attends temple more than a few times a year, ponders God on a regular basis or sees the divine in everyday actions, but this morning, I literally stood on Church Street in Evanston, with the Metra to my right and the El tracks to my left thinking, “God!  Why didn’t you remind me to grab my goddamn pass!”  No wonder he didn’t have my back.

So with my empty wallet in tow and the Metra’s cash-only policy in the back of my mind, I headed to the El as the train passed me by overhead.  UGH again.

Now, as you may recall, I was a little hesitant about moving to the ‘burbs, but now that I’ve grown accustomed to my clean, quiet and efficient commute on the Metra, getting on the El for a longer, smellier, already-behind-schedule commute is not my idea of fun.

Finally I got to the office, with my ten minute delay extended to 20, and the to-do-list on my desk seemed to be screaming, “Help!  So much to do, and now even less time!”  So now I’m at my desk, writing my Oy! article, pondering the rough morning effect:

When you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, does the day have to end that way?  And is it easier to wake up on the wrong side of the bed knowing that you’ll leave your apartment to enter 70 degrees and sunshine?

I may be crabby, poorly-rested, slightly disheveled looking and buried under my to-do-list, but I don’t have to let a poor start to the day ruin the rest of it.  And just because the high today doesn’t even make it past the mid-twenties, that doesn’t mean I have to let the winter blues make me blue.

Let’s be honest: the mind over matter technique doesn’t always work.  This afternoon, as I struggle to keep my eyes open after a night of fitful sleep while I focus on the tasks ahead of me, I probably won’t head home at five reflecting upon how awesome my day was after I shook it off.  But a girl can try, right?

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Funemployment?

 Permanent link
01/26/2010

I remember hearing this term and thinking to myself, what exactly could be fun about unemployment?  Reading through article and studies online of how the nation’s unemployment rate has affected the mental, physical, and emotional health of individuals, and experiencing it firsthand, can make it difficult to move beyond the negatives and view the positives of the situation.

However, fun and work are not usually words that go hand-in-hand.  In fact, fun is usually what happens after work or on weekends when you no longer have any work to do and can relax and enjoy yourself with a night out or a low-key night in.  Therefore, the term funemployment should make sense, for if fun comes after work, then fun should also come with no work, right?  But what exactly is funemployment?

Urban Dictionary Definition #1: “A happy time in one’s life when one is not employed and is not wanting to be employed.”

First, let’s take a look at that sentence.  Perhaps the reason one is not employed is because one does not know how to write grammatically.  Aside from the grammatical issues, why would you not want to be employed?

Well, an early retirement seems like a good example.  Of course you have to work very hard, often coupled with long hours, in order to retire at an early age.  Students are also generally happy focusing on their studies and putting off their entrance into the workforce.

Urban Dictionary Definition #2: “The condition of a person who takes advantage of being out of a job to have the time of their life.”

Time of your life, huh?  I guess I missed that memo.  Well I can’t exactly say that I have been having the time of my life, but I will admit that unemployment has given me time to do things I would not have been able to do with a full-time job.  Here are a few examples:

• Reading books for pleasure.  I have read a record number of fiction novels since the summer and I have been able to really enjoy them.

• Drinking coffee and other forms of yummy caffeinated beverages because I like them and not because I need them.

• Catching up on great TV shows I missed while in college.  Not to mention watching the new additions this year.  I think everyone knows what I’m talking about…Glee!

• Learning new hobbies, such as teaching myself how to play the guitar.

• Seeing movies when they come out in theatres instead of when they come out on TV.

Funemployment photo

No longer Alvin and the Chipmunks, now it’s Deborah and the Chipmunks

• Sleeping in and enjoying it instead of waking up in a panic, throwing on some clothes and heading out to drive, or more likely sit, through rush hour traffic.

• Volunteering without feeling like I am stretching myself too thin.  My current volunteer project is tax preparation for the Center for Economic Progress.

Since the other definitions don’t apply, I won’t list them here, but clearly unemployment does not have to be all doom and gloom.

There was a time in my life when everything was about work and getting ahead.  Socializing took a backseat to long days and nights filled with projects and deadlines.  I didn’t really have a good balance between doing work and having fun.  The theory behind funemployment seems to be getting a semblance of your life back.  Realizing there is more to life than work.

As Amanda Rounsaville questions in an L.A. Times article about funemployment, “Do we work to live or do we live to work?”

It’s kind of like that fickle feeling students have during break.  You come home so happy that the semester is over and you can relax without worrying about work and deadlines.  After a couple of weeks, though, you go out of your mind from the boredom of having nothing to do.  So it looks like I not only work to live, but live to work as well.

Although I enjoy the freedom of funemployment, I miss the hectic, over-scheduled, challenging days of employment.  I suppose we always want what we don’t have.

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No Ill Wishes

 Permanent link
01/25/2010

No Ill Wishes photo

Exactly one year ago, I had just been released from the hospital and it was one of the most strange and humbling experiences I have ever had. I was admitted to a Catholic hospital in the city, and remained there for five days after finding that my appendix had ruptured. I would eventually return six weeks later to have my appendix removed, since it was too dangerous to remove it at that time. In 2004, I had worked and trained as a hospital chaplain for 11 weeks in New York, and back then, I thought that I had really grown accustomed to what the hospital was all about. Let me tell you, I was wrong. It was not until this experience that I learned how being in a hospital when you are really sick makes you feel a whole range of emotions: fear, hope, exhaustion, impatience, and above all, complete dependence on your loved ones keeping an eye on you and the medical staff taking care of you.

It was a little odd being a Jew in a Catholic hospital, but it was an emergency, and this is where my doctor sent me. Arriving at my room being pushed in a wheelchair, as I relax in the not-so-relaxing bed, I am groggy and dehydrated and look up to see a . . . cross.

So, here I am, an incredibly ill, bed-ridden appendicitis patient, and I immediately yell to my family, "I want that taken down!" Well, my family did not think it was appropriate for me to be saying this—they told me to just ignore it, and that every prayer counted.

Personally, I have visited so many people in hospitals, both my own congregants, and many people of other faiths, as many chaplains are trained in Interfaith chaplaincy. Our work often involves creating an Interfaith prayer—a prayer that was neutral of any religion or tradition, but was still a comforting response for the patient.

Each day during my hospital stay began with a chaplain reading a comforting prayer of this nature over the intercom. This was the official wakeup call, as compared to the multiple times I was woken by nurses and other staff coming in and out of my room throughout the night. Isn't rest the best medicine? Since my rabbi was out of town, I picked up a brochure that was placed in my room and found that I could request for the hospital’s rabbi to visit me by asking the nurse. She responded, "Oh, we only have priests available today." Strike two.

Yet, I did get a few of my wishes that week. First, I got to watch the entire presidential inauguration—TWICE! (It was great the first time!) Having worked in a hospital and fielded requests for chaplains, I had a feeling that if I left a message with the Pastoral Care department, it would end up in the right hands. Nearly a day later, the hospital rabbi visited me. He was an older fellow who seemed to greatly enjoy playing Jewish Geography with my mother. I will give him due credit that he delivered me a really nice little basket of Shabbat goodies on that Friday just before I was released. I was, however, a little stunned and turned off when he forced his personal theology upon me telling me that he preferred to pray only on behalf of the doctors and staff rather than for the patient directly. I wanted my Mi Shebeirach too.

I returned to work a week and a half later, still recuperating from that experience. I shared my multitude of experiences and stories with everyone, including my rabbi, now back in town. I told him about the cross, and to my satisfaction, he agreed and said, "Well, I would have done the same too." If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, the hospital rabbi told me that they do have covers to place over the crosses—no one should feel out of place or uncomfortable in a hospital room.

As a cantor, one of the most amazing things has happened from my experiences in the hospital. It has forever changed the way I visit my congregants when they are ill. When I look in the bed, I see myself—weak and looking for a hand to hold, longing for a conversation, and ultimately waiting to be blessed with a prayer.

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Secrets of the ‘least clingy couple’

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01/22/2010

Secrets of the ‘least clingy couple’ photo 1

Among our friends, my husband and I are known as “the least clingy couple in the history of the universe.” That’s because we realized early that we have to let each other have interests outside the other person.

We also aren’t the most romantic sort: we celebrated our first wedding anniversary by hanging out with our two best friends, our second by hosting a slew of family and friends for a touristy weekend in Chicago, and our third by hiking in Red Rocks Park near Denver, where my sister lives. The children of Soviet-bred parents, both of us are entirely too practical to be romantic.

That’s why it makes sense for us to have personal friends and “couple” friends. My husband can easily take off for a skiing trip with his friends – he’s into downhill, while I’m a cross-country person. And I’ll go dancing with my friends, while he’s at home tinkering with the latest digital gadget. We trust each other enough to give the other person space to live the life he or she wants – even if the other person doesn’t share in the enthusiasm for a certain hobby.

Meanwhile, we also make a point to go out together and do things we enjoy: regular trips to the Art Institute to contemplate the Impressionists, running along the lake, cooking together, camping, and myriad little things that make up our life.

When we realized we wanted to spend our lives together – and knowing our rational streaks – we set out to build our partnership on three specific pillars: the building of personal traditions, communication, and the knowledge that we can depend on each other in the toughest situations.

Together, we began celebrating Shabbat every Friday night, inviting friends to join us at least once a month. While we don’t consider ourselves religious Jews, we enjoy exploring Jewish tradition and figuring out ways we can celebrate it in our own way. Next week, for example, we are hosting a Tu B’Shevat seder, for which we wrote a haggadah. We compiled it from various sources and included readings and songs that spoke to our personal commitment to the environment.

Secrets of the ‘least clingy couple’ photo 2

Because we dated long-distance for four years – we studied at different universities about 150 miles apart – we know that communication is key. That’s the advice given to many newlyweds, but we found that out long before we made plans for a chuppah. Left-over from those four years are regular catch-up sessions. Since getting married, we’ve also used this time to review our finances together, which is especially important in a tough economy like now.

Of course, we aren’t perfect. Like any other two people stuck together in 854 square feet, we butt heads occasionally. But the beauty of having a life partner is also having a conversation partner, someone who will listen even if he or she disagrees.

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Adventures in Trevor sitting

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01/21/2010

If having a baby is anything like owning a dog, don’t sign me up any time soon.  I love seeing adorable babies, especially on Oy!— Oy!sters have some cute babies!  And as the proud aunt of five nieces and nephews, I love playing with kids.  But, I also really, really like my beauty rest.

Which brings me to my present sleep-deprived situation.  My parents migrate south every winter, escaping to Florida and California.  My dad likes Florida and my mom likes California, so they go to both.  Normally, they bring along their beloved, adorable fourth child, Trevor.  If you’ve been following my posts then you’d know that Trevor is actually a super cute, affectionate, but not so smart Yorkshire terrier.

Adventures in Trevor sitting photo 1

Don’t let his adorableness fool you

This year, Trevor was only invited on the California leg of the trip, because Jason and I, and our new condo, are available to dog sit…for six weeks.  SIX WEEKS!  Oy!  It really seemed like a fun idea back in September when it was still warm out.  (Summer always clouds my better judgment and makes me forget that I spend nine months of the year living in frozen tundra.)

So, Trevor arrived New Year’s weekend, which is also Jason’s birthday weekend— as you can imagine there was a lot of celebrating and staying up very late.  Big mistake!  In one weekend we managed to somehow turn my adorable little puppy into some kind of nocturnal monster.

Adventures in Trevor sitting photo 2

Are butterflies nocturnal?

He sleeps during the day while we are at work and there’s no one to stop him (aside from the dog walker— see we’re really good pet sitters) and REFUSES to sleep at night, which would still be ok if he let us sleep.  But Trevor won’t let that happen— not after being deprived of attention all day.

The last few weeks have been going something like this:

The middle of the night…

Trevor:  “Bark! Bark! Bark!” followed by running around the bed and scratching at our back door.
Jason:  “What is he doing, it’s midnight?”
Me:  “I think he needs to go out…again.”

3 hours later…

Trevor:  “Bark! Bark! Bark!” followed by running around the bed.
Jason:  “Now, what?!”
Me:  “Trevor what is your deal?
Trevor responds by bringing me over his favorite toy so we can play fetch.
Me:  “Trevor, it’s the middle of the night!  That’s it, you want to play?  You can play in the kitchen.”

Another hour or so goes by…

Scratching and crying at the bedroom door.
Me:  “I’m letting him back in.”
Jason:  “He’s a dog not a child.  Leave him outside.”
Me:  “But he won’t stop until I let him in.  He’s probably just lonely.

5am…

Trevor starts scratching again at the back door.
Me:  “At least babies you don’t have to walk outside in the middle of the night!  Let’s go Trevor!”

Adventures in Trevor sitting photo 3

Jason, exhausted from Trevor’s antics

Now I know what you’re thinking— this dog has her wrapped around his little paw and I just need to stand tough with him.  But that means ignoring his incessant barking throughout the night and like I said before, I will do anything to protect my beauty rest…  Ok, so I also start to feel bad for him.  I’m like Cameron from Modern Family fighting Mitchell and his baby “ferberizing” system.  I, too, am “like a mother bear.  When I hear my cub crying, I have to run to her.”

The first week I truly thought there was something wrong with him and was ready to take him to the vet— now I realize he’s probably just upset my mom is gone and is acting out like a spoiled child.  But I still feel bad for him.

It doesn’t help matters that my parent’s treat Trevor like a spoiled child and the city just bores him.  A typical day in the suburbs for Trevor consists of running around the backyard— guarding the house from the neighbor’s dogs, birds, SKUNKS, squirrels, the occasional chipmunk and other small creatures he feels big against.  In the city, he’s lucky if he gets in one good bark a day at another dog or a rat, if he’s really lucky.

A Thanksgiving story photo 2

 

Maybe if he suffers through another one of these, he will start behaving better? 

 

I love Trevor and once he wags his cute little tail and smiles up at you— not even the Grinch could stay angry with him.  Plus, it’s so nice to come home to a happy dog after a long day at work.  But, we can’t keep living like this!  I’m so tired it hurts!  Dog lovers and dog owners— please tell me what do you do?  Any advice, suggestions, phone numbers for local “dog whisperers” or doggie sleeping drug recommendations would be much appreciated…

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My take on today's greatest Jewish athletes

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01/20/2010

My take on today's greatest Jewish athletes photo

Recently, Spike.com ran an article about the top 10 current professional Jewish athletes. I highly disagreed with their assessment. So, I moved around people and shuffled in a few of our own.

Spike.com's Choices.
10) Jordan Farmar - Backup Point Guard Los Angeles Lakers
9) Marty Turco - Goalie Dallas Stars
8) Sue Bird - Starting Point Guard Seattle Storm
7) Kane - WWE Wrestler
6) Jason Lezak - Olympic Swimmer
5) Ian Kinsler - Starting Second Baseman Texas Rangers
4) Igor Olshansky - Starting Defensive Lineman Dallas Cowboys
3) Kevin Youkilis - Starting First/Third Baseman Boston Red Sox
2) Mike Cammalleri - Starting Left Wing Montreal Canadians
1) Ryan Braun - Starting Left Fielder Milwaukee Brewers

So I decided to give you my own list. I based my decision on how much these players have excelled in their respective sport. I included Yuri Foreman, Omri Casspi, Andy Ram, and Sacha Cohen. All of whom I thought were more deserving than Igor Olshansky, Jordan Farmar, Kane, and Marty Turco. Players who just missed my cut were Olshansky, Julian Edelman, Scott Feldman, Turco, Shahar Peer, and Farmar. Also, note that players with one Jewish parent count on both lists. Enjoy!

10) Yuri Foreman - World Boxing Association Super welterweight Champion
9) Sasha Cohen - Olympic Gold Medal Skater
8) Jason Lezak - Olympic Gold Medal Swimmer
7) Sue Bird - Starting Guard Seattle Storm
6) Andy Ram - 9th Ranked Doubles Player. 5th Ranked in Team Doubles.
5) Ian Kinsler - Starting Second Baseman Texas Rangers.
4) Omri Casspi - Starting Forward Sacramento Kings
3) Mike Cammalleri - Starting Left Wing Montreal Canadians
2) Ryan Braun - Starting Left Fielder Milwaukee Brewers
1) Kevin Youkilis - Starting First/Third Baseman Boston Red Sox

Let me know what you think.
And Let Us Say...Amen.

For more on top Jewish athletes check out www.thegreatrabbino.com.

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Standing up

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01/19/2010

Yesterday at work I had the privilege of attending a special program honoring the life and legacy of the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., on the day his birthday was observed across the country. Our keynote speaker was the Honorable Jesse White, the Illinois Secretary of State. Secretary White was an extremely personable man with countless personal stories of both triumph and discrimination. He also made an interesting point that has inspired me to write for the first time in a long while.

“Segregation was about sitting down:” whites sit in this part of the bus, blacks here. Whites sit at this bar, blacks at this one. This bathroom allows whites only, this one has a sign that says ‘colored.’”
 
By extension, equality and justice are about standing up.
 
In the program for the event there was an excerpt of one of Dr. King’s speeches, given at Southern Methodist University on March 17, 1966.
 
"I would say we have come a long, long way in our struggle to make justice a reality for all men but we have a long, long way to go before the problem is solved... Somewhere we must come to see that human progress never rolls in on the wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless effort and the persistent work of dedicated individuals who are willing to be co-workers with God; and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the primitive forces of social stagnation and irrational emotionalism. We must have time and we must realize that the time is always right to do right."
 
Today, 44 years later, in this country we've got the Prop 8 trial. We've got healthcare reform. We've got job issues, tax issues, food issues, education issues, housing issues, many of which reek of injustice and disparity.

Now Haiti has been ravaged by an earthquake the magnitude of which has not been seen in two centuries. There is plenty to be emotional about. Though we can send our dollars and our prayers, we could not stop the horrific destruction of, basically, an entire country and innocent lives and families by natural disaster.

But there are issues where we are not so helpless, and there is no time for us to rest. There is no time for us to be irrationally emotional. There is no time for us to allow the status quo to remain. The time is now, the time is always, to be rationally emotional, to stand up. Separate is never equal. Justice is not partial to one race or class or gender or country or religion or sexual orientation or hair color or age.
 
Alexandre Dumas wrote, "all human wisdom is summed up in two words; wait and hope."

I disagree. It is wise to be just. It is wise to be fair. It is wise to stand up for what you believe in when you see a wrong in the world.
 
Dumas may not have gotten everything right. But his Three Musketeers did: It's time for us to all stand up and proclaim that we will wait no longer, that the time is now to declare, "all [standard rights] for one, and one [standard rule] for all."
 
Write to your legislators in favor of those bills you believe will make this country fair and just and prosperous for all. Give of your self either time or money (or hell, both) to those causes and organizations whose work you believe advance Dr. King’s noble mission. In the words of the Chicago Transit Authority, if you see something, say something.

As Dr. King said in his famous “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech on April 3, 1968 – the day before that fateful day when his life was tragically taken –

“We don't have to argue with anybody. We don't have to curse and go around acting bad with our words. We don't need any bricks and bottles, we don't need any Molotov cocktails, we just need to go around… to these massive industries in our country, and say, "God sent us by here, to say to you that you're not treating his children right. And we've come by here to ask you to make the first item on your agenda fair treatment, where God's children are concerned.”

My fellow Oy!sters, now I ask you to join me in making fairness and equality toward all the first item on your agenda.

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Mommyhood: Year One

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01/18/2010

Mommyhood: Year One photo

Not even one and already too cool for Mommy

Lindsay Madison Flayhart Stoller came into the world exactly at 8:20 a.m. weighing exactly 7 pounds.  That is the last time anything in my life was exact.

These days, I’m always at least 20 minutes late, a fact that annoys my otherwise punctual husband to no end.  I used to thoroughly clean my home weekly, now I can only manage a couple of quick swipes with a Clorox wipe.  I can’t articulate an intelligent argument about our country’s healthcare system, however I could write a dissertation on diapers.  I have left the house wearing my shirt inside-out, I don’t remember the last time I had a pedicure or manicure, and my husband has lovingly begun to refer to me as Chewbacka.

Welcome to motherhood.

Mentally, I was prepared for a year of chaos, sleep-deprivation, lack of time, and new responsibilities.  What I wasn’t prepared for was just how happy all that chaos would make me feel, even on the days I need five cups of coffee to get through the morning, when the button on my pre-maternity pants pops off in a meeting, or when I drive to the train station biting back tears because I just left my baby in someone else’s arms.

Having a child has fundamentally changed who I am—not just my appearance or my lifestyle, but how I relate to the world.  I feel things much more deeply.  I get “it” -it being everything from a mushy commercial to why my mother becomes frantic if I don’t return her phone call within 24 hours.  My number one priority in life is unquestionably my child.  It’s like after my daughter was born I began to see the world in color, where previously I saw it only in black and white.  (I’m pretty sure I lifted that line somewhere, so don’t quote me.)

So, even with all the chaos, this has hands down been the best year of my life.  I just can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since I became a mom.  The time has gone by so fast—it seems like just yesterday she was kicking me from the inside, demanding more chocolate.  (Ok, that was all me.)

I am excited for the next year when Lindsay will say her first real words, take her first steps–yet I can’t help but miss my little baby.  The itty-bitty that slept on my chest to hear my heartbeat and who looked up at me as though I was the center of the universe.

If I could make one wish on Lindsay’s first birthday, it would be for a “do over” of the entire year, to slow time until I was ready for the next stage.  But, since I know that wish can’t come true, I will wish for Lindsay all of the things that can— and I hope will—come true.

I wish for you to always know how smart, funny, beautiful and special you are.

I wish for you to always feel how much your father and I love you.

I wish for you that I never do anything “uncool” that embarrasses you in front of your friends, but when I do that you will laugh with me.  And for God’s sake, please tell me if I’m wearing “mom jeans.”

I wish for you to be Daddy’s little girl, but never a spoiled princess.

I wish for you to always want my time and attention, my hugs and kisses.

I wish for you to always go through life happy and healthy.

I wish for you a better world.  I promise to do my best to prepare and protect you from it.

I wish that you will love your Jewish heritage, culture and religion, and that you will give back to the community when you are older.

I wish that you will understand why your father can’t be home a lot of evenings or weekends, because a Rabbi’s schedule isn’t 9-to-5.

I wish for you to have the strength, courage and confidence to dance to the beat of your own drummer.

I wish for you to never be a mean girl, or one of their targets.

I wish for you to never measure your self-worth by your appearance, male-attention, or by a number on the scale.

I wish for you to have your Daddy’s intelligence, sense of humor and his legs (they look great in a skirt), and Mommy’s street-smarts.

I wish that you won’t hate that your birthday is on Valentine’s Day—believe me, I tried convincing the doctor to wait a day.

I wish that even when you hate me, you still love me.  And will understand that you will always be my little Bunny, and no matter where you want to runaway to, I will find you and love you.

Happy First Birthday Lindsay.  I love you.

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For my sister

 Permanent link
01/15/2010

For my sister photo 1

Today my little sister turns 22. 22! She is halfway through her senior year of college. It sounds so cliché, but I can’t believe how fast she is growing up. It seems like just yesterday she was showing me her prom dress, and now here she is, just one semester away from graduating.

Mollie and I are like any sisters. We have more fun with each other than with anyone else, but we can also fight, make each other cry and annoy the shit out of each other. Each time I see Mollie (almost all Jewish holidays/Spring and Winter break), she and I have more and more fun with each other and fight less. I’m proud to report that we didn’t fight once over Christmas (and I was home for 4 whole days!!). Lately, I’ve been so proud of Mollie and all that she has accomplished. I love her so much, and I don’t tell her nearly enough. So for Mollie’s 22nd birthday, I have decided to dedicate this blog to her, and list 22 memories/quotes/things I love about my fabulous, almost 22 year-old sister.

22. I’ll start with a quote: “Sisters annoy, interfere, criticize. Indulge in monumental sulks, in huffs, in snide remarks. Borrow. Break. Monopolize the bathroom. Are always underfoot. But if catastrophe should strike, sisters are there. Defending you against all comers.” ~Pam Brown

21. This number reminds me of making drinks for the family at last year’s Hanukkah party, and finding out that they were 99% water because a certain sister couldn’t wait to turn 21, and had so cleverly re-filled the liquor bottles with water… smooth move, Moll.

20. My screen name was Abbster1. So you decided to be Molester1. How do you explain to a little girl that “Molester1” is not an appropriate name for AOL’s “kid chat.”

For my sister photo 2

19. Recent memory: our Spice Girls performance. (we’ll pretend this sing-a-long happened much longer ago than it actually did…)

18. You used to play “teacher” every single day. You made up names, lined up dolls, and created lesson plans. Now you really are a teacher. Congrats again on Teach for America. Your students are beyond lucky, and I’m prouder than proud.

17. I love our pow-wows that still occur before each shopping trip with Mom. “Ok, if we don’t fight at all, Mom will buy us soooo much more!”

16. I may have acted annoyed at the time, but I loved when you insisted on sleeping on my bedroom floor for a few months, instead of sleeping in your own room, 10 ft. away.

15. Molldoll4712. ‘nough said.

14. “You keep your past by having sisters. As you get older, they're the only ones who don't get bored if you talk about your memories.” ~Deborah Moggach

13. Our Wednesday night Top Chef “BBM sesh”. It’s almost as good as actually watching with you.

12. Rocking out with you at the No Doubt concert

11. I’m sorry for always making up different versions of the “you were adopted”/“bought at a store” story when we were little. Even if we did buy you at a store, I would never dream of returning you.

For my sister photo 3

10. We used to make the Best. Forts. EVER.

9. Grand Lake, Winter Park, Breckenridge, Steam Boat!

8. I’m glad you can always call me (or at least BBM) when you’re upset about something.

7. If playing Scrabble was a professional sport, you’d go pro.

6. Thanks for actually enjoying the torturous games I made you play. Such as the game where I tied you to the railing with bed sheets and timed you to see how long it would take you to untie yourself. Good times.

5. Your maturity and bravery has always amazed me. You’ve shown so much leadership and passion as a Rho Gamma for your sorority, and I’m awed by your strength and independence to decide to move to New Orleans, a city you’ve never even visited, to teach underprivileged youth for two years.

4. You may look like Barbie (or at least Skipper) now, but you definitely did not resemble Barbie as a booger-y two year old who would break my Barbie cars by trying to fit in them, one foot in each seat.

For my sister photo 4

3. I loved the years at camp and school when we would overlap. So fun.

2. Thanks for the “turtle” you left in my room. Thank god I didn’t pick it up.

1. I love the kid you were, the person you are today, and the person you’ll be later in life. I have the best memories with you, and I actually get excited thinking of how many more memories we’ll create as we continue to “grow up”.

Love you lots, Mootsie! Happy 22nd Birthday!! xoxo

To all the Oy! Readers who’ve actually made it all the way through my list—wow. Mazel Tov. Hopefully you’ll be inspired to take the time to share special memories with someone important in your life!

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How to “CH”

 Permanent link
01/14/2010

Some will say to clear your throat. Some will say to imagine coughing up a fish bone. But what, really, is the easiest and most accurate way to say the sound that starts chai, challah, and chutzpah?

The sound made by the Hebrew letters chaf and chet also can be heard in Arabic, German, Dutch, Scottish and other languages. So it’s also useful in imagining Gaddafi, Bach and van Gogh touring Loch Ness.

But for most of us, it comes up when pronouncing Hebrew or Yiddish words: congratulating the chatan under the chupah at his chatunah, greeting the Chasid at a Chabad house, or discussing the works of Chaim Potok, Itzhak Perlman, and Shmuley Boteach.

You might really use the ch sound during the Jewish holidays, wishing someone Chag same’ach on Chanukah… celebrating Rosh Chodesh… and especially searching for chametz or making charoset on Pesach.

My favorite dictionary (writers are allowed to have such things) is Webster’s Riverside III. Its pronunciation guide spells this sound kh.

Why that combination of letters? Well, it explains, that to say the sound, you should hold your mouth as if to say the k sound, and instead say an h. It even offers this tip— say the k sound four times, quickly… and then, without changing the orientation of your tongue, say the h sound.

In explaining how to say the ch sound to others, I have realized that the reason the sound is so difficult for so many is that it involves a part of our mouths that is never used when speaking English: the uvula. This is the small tab of skin hanging down over the back of one’s tongue.

We do use the uvula, however, in making another, non-speaking sound— snoring. The uvula, vibrating like a boxer’s punching bag against the back of your throat, produces this distinctive, raspy sound. A snore is made while inhaling, drawing air into the throat.

All the Hebrew/Yiddish ch sound is, then, is a backward snore. The ch is a vibration of the uvula while exhaling, pushing air up out of the throat. So try making snoring sound… and then, not changing the orientation of your tongue or lips, breathe out… snoring backward.

One final note: making this sound, you should not sound like you are clearing your throat from a bad cold (unless you are speaking in the Yemenite dialect). The sound is not made that low in the throat; it comes from a higher spot by the back of the tongue.

With a little practice, you’ll sound as comfortably convincing with the ch sound as Talmudic as a chochom, as authentic as an Israeli chalutz, and as melodic as a chazan.

Until next month: as an American president once said to a fallen Israeli prime minister, Yitzhak Rabin: “Shalom, chaver.”

For more ch words to learn and practice, visit  this page of JUF’s Jewish Word Glossary. B’hatzlacha… good luck!

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More face time in 2010

 Permanent link
01/14/2010

Just as we do around the High Holidays, I think New Year’s and the subsequent weeks after provide a good time for introspection and goal setting. In fact, I think society might be a whole lot healthier if people took quarterly inventories of their lives.

My recent conclusions come both from discussions with friends and also from having seen “Up in the Air.”

I started 2010 with your typical resolutions—eating healthier, being more active and spending more time with family and friends.

To date, two-thirds of these resolutions have not come into fruition, although I remain innocently optimistic.

It was difficult to start a healthy eating regime when my refrigerator was, and is still, jam-packed with goodies I baked over the holidays, including peppermint bark, cakes and the like.

More face time in 2010 photo

My resolution downfall

Also, not to sound like a 90-year old woman, but hauling my car out of a snow-filled parking spot in sub-zero temperatures is exercise enough for me on some days.

However, something I’ve taken to heart is the idea of spending more time with family and friends—which can be difficult with a crazy work schedule.

The holidays offered some time off that reminded me of what I was missing. I reconnected with out of town friends and had a daylong baking extravaganza with my mother on Christmas—what else are Jews supposed to do on Christmas?

The minute I welcomed these things more fully back into my life after having come off a work rush before the holidays, I realized what I had been missing. Immediately, I felt more balanced and as a result, I’m more cheerful now as I go through my daily grind.

I also spent last Sunday talking with a friend about how we needed to jumpstart our lives instead of moping about them—yes, we were talking about boys. However, the conversation evolved into talk of enriching ourselves with activities around the city.

However, somewhere in the back of mind, I’ve been realizing that I may have George Clooney to thank for some positive steps forward in 2010.

While Clooney’s not Jewish (to my knowledge), I think if he knocked on my door, I’d let that one slide. He certainly was more stunning than ever in “Up in the Air,” as was his acting.

I don’t want to provide too many spoilers in case there are readers out there who still want to go see it. But, the movie, while funny at times, was also quite tragic.

Clooney’s character, Ryan Bingham, who essentially traveled around the country and fired people for a living, thought he had life figured out, right down to each robotic moment—whether he was passing through airports or checking into hotels. However, he realized one big thing was missing from his life: human connection.

I think this movie was a cautionary tale for modern society. If we allow our jobs, our television sets, our computers, our cell phones, our iPods or our Facebook pages to consume our lives, we’ll forget about the real-life people around us.

My friends and I, for instance, are guilty of texting at the dinner table.

I also worry that our consumerist-driven society is only magnified during a time when people are panicked about unemployment and mere survival. Bingham’s task of firing people was downright heartbreaking for the viewer, though Clooney offered a cool performance. At the same time, his character faced the inevitability that his own in-person work was going to be transplanted by computerized interactions.

Are we better as a society for making things more efficient and less personal?

That’s something I’m grappling with in 2010.

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Miep Gies is a real hero

 Permanent link
01/13/2010

Forget Mark McGwire. Miep Gies is a real hero. photo

We are living in a time where kids are taught to worship celebrities and athletes, some of whom are eventually exposed as being morally bankrupt. Their excuses for their imperfections are: “I’m only human” or “Just because I’m amazing at _______ doesn’t make me a role model.”

Actually, what doesn’t make them a role model is their behavior, not humanity’s expectations of them.

Sure enough, I woke up on Tuesday, turned on the Today Show, and heard Mark McGwire’s pitiful confession of steroid use. As my eyes were still rolling, the news mentioned that Miep Gies had passed away at the age of 100.

Miep Gies is a real hero. I happened to read “The Diary of Anne Frank” the same year Gies’ autobiography “Anne Frank Remembered” came out. While Anne Frank’s diary was of course moving, Gies’ book shaped my view of the world and our potential as individuals to work toward tikkun olam and act ethically even when it doesn’t benefit us and even when it’s not easy.

Gies moved to Holland as a child from Austria, and because her family was impoverished, she was then adopted. In 1933, she began working for Otto Frank, Anne Frank’s father and eventually helped to hide the family and their friends from 1942-1944. After the Nazis arrested the Franks, Gies saved Anne’s diary and gave it to her father after he was liberated from Auschwitz.

Gies hid the Franks at great risk to herself and her husband. Her thoughtful nature led her to save Anne’s diary in hopes that she’d be able to return it to Anne one day. Although as we know, Anne never received her diary, it became the voice of the about 1.5 million children who died during the Holocaust and is thought to be the second most read non-fiction book in the world.

After Gies became famous because of the Diary, she used that celebrity to discuss the evils of anti-Semitism and to keep Anne’s legacy alive.

Maybe every athlete and celebrity should be given “Anne Frank Remembered” to read. Perhaps it would give them the courage to abstain from cheating, drug abuse and philandering, despite the tremendous pressure that they are under.

Definitely give a copy to any young person you know. It is a good read and they will admire her courage and maybe even emulate it.

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DIY-Date Night

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01/12/2010

DIY-Date Night photo

Imagine soft candle light, beautiful music, crisp-refreshing martinis, crackling skinned chicken with the fragrance of rosemary and lemon perfuming the air and deep dark chocolate mousse. Your favorite restaurant? No. This is your home kitchen with you at the helm. Usually date night means eating at a restaurant and sometimes having a great meal and sometimes not. I propose that the next date night, whether you are cooking for one, two or a bunch, you treat yourself and those you love to an intimate home-cooked meal.

A home-cooked meal has oodles of advantages.

1. You set the atmosphere. Light your candles, play your iPod and wear your favorite dress up clothes or your PJs.

2. Homemade date night is usually more economical. You have the advantage when you are making food at home of picking and choosing which ingredients to splurge on and which to be a bit thriftier. You also get to eat the leftovers!

3. When you make a fabulous dinner, even if it is for just one, you are giving your heart and soul to the diner(s). Nothing says “love” like a great meal with a little TLC thrown in.

4. Making dinner at home is intimate. You can have your date help you in the kitchen or go for the big “ta-dah” and present your diner with beautiful food.

I could go on and on, but you get the idea. Next time you feel like making reservations, consider a homemade date night. My simple recipes will help you make a luscious and restaurant quality meal that will have your diners begging for another at DIY Date Night.

Mixed Olive Tapenade

Serve the tapenade with crostini. Cut a baguette into ½ inch thick slices, rub them with olive oil and toast them in a 350 degree oven until they are lightly browned and crispy. Rub the crostini with a peeled garlic clove while they are still warm and then dollop the tapenade on the toasts.

½ cup kalamata olives-pitted
½ cup cracked green olives-pitted
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
2 cloves of garlic-peeled
Pinch of crushed red chili flakes
2 anchovy filets
Extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup fresh flat leaf parsley-chopped

1. Place the olives, lemon juice, zest, garlic, chili flakes (if using) and anchovy filets in a food processor. Pulse the mixture until it resembles a chunky paste. Add additional olive oil if necessary.

2.  Remove mixture and place in a small bowl. Stir parsley. Adjust seasoning. Tapenade can be stored in the refrigerator covered for up to three weeks.

Herb Roasted Chicken

Roasted chicken with a crackling skin and luscious meat is the little black dress (or male equivalent) of the food world. It goes with everything. You can dress it up or down depending upon how you serve and garnish it. Do not even think of substituting boneless-skinless chicken breasts for a whole chicken. Boneless-skinless breasts are fine for some recipes, but a whole chicken just tastes more savory and succulent. Serve this fragrant chicken with a big salad and you will be a star.

Serves 2-3

1 whole chicken about 3 ½ pounds
½ cup chopped fresh flat leaf parsley
3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1 tablespoon chopped fresh rosemary plus 1 sprig
Juice and zest of 1 lemon plus 1 whole lemon
Juice and zest of 1 orange
2 tablespoons cracked black pepper corns
1 bulb of garlic cut in half horizontally
¼ cup Extra Virgin olive oil
Kosher Salt

Pan Jus
½ cup white wine
1/3 cup chicken stock

1. Preheat the oven to 450. Rinse the chicken thoroughly. Pat dry and place on a roasting rack.  Place all the fresh herbs (except for the whole rosemary sprig), zest and juices and black pepper in a small bowl and whisk together.

2. Use your hands to thoroughly rub the chicken inside the cavity and out with the herb mixture. Stuff the lemon, whole rosemary sprig, garlic and ½ onion into the cavity of the chicken. Tuck the wings under the body of the chicken and tie the legs together (this will help keep the shape a little nicer).

3.  Roast the chicken for 20 minutes at high heat. Turn down the oven temperature to 250 and slow roast (occasionally brushing on more of the herb mixture) until a thermometer inserted into the thigh registers 160 (about 1 hour). Remove from the oven and loosely cover with foil. Allow the chicken to rest before carving.

4. To carve the chicken: (You CAN do this part!)Cut the string off of the chicken and remove the vegetables and lemon. Reserve the garlic and discard the rest. Cut down the center along the breast bone on both sides. Remove the breast bone. Pull the chicken apart slightly to expose the back bone. Cut along both sides of the back bone and remove it. Cut the birds into quarters and place a serving platter. Reserve the pan juices.

5. Skim off the fat from the pan juices. Add the pan juices back to the roasting pan and place the pan over medium heat. Squeeze the garlic cloves into the pan. Mash the garlic with the back of a spoon to puree it. Add wine and chicken stock and reduce the mixture until the jus has slightly thickened.

Chocolate Mousse

No fake whipping cream needed when you use great chocolate (no cheap stuff or the recipe will not work) and a plump vanilla bean loaded with flavor. This mousse is all about chocolate. Serve with fresh fruit, cocoa nibs and chopped nuts.

4 ½ ounces bittersweet chocolate (70% cocoa mass), chopped
3 tablespoons strong, brewed, coffee
1 tablespoon cognac (or water)
4 whole eggs at room temperature
3 tablespoons water
3 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of kosher salt
1 vanilla bean scraped

1. Place the chocolate, coffee and cognac if using in a small bowl and place over a pan of simmering water. Melt the chocolate. Transfer to a large bowl and set a side to cool.

2. Place the eggs, water, sugar, salt and vanilla bean in the bowl of a high-speed mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Whisk on high until the mixture resembles whipped cream. This will take 7-10 minutes-be patient!

3. Fold the whipped eggs into the cooled chocolate in several additions.

4. Portion the mousse in dessert glasses or ramekins. Place in the refrigerator to set at least 2 hours before eating. The mousse may be made one day ahead, wrapped with plastic wrap and stored in the refrigerator.

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Avatar is so totally Jewish!

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01/11/2010

Avatar is so totally Jewish photo

Just saw Avatar at Navy Pier’s Imax theater…LOVED IT!!  Wow!!  As I watched, I kept thinking about how this movie is totally Jewish.  In fact, I think that the movie is so darn Jewish that Mr. Cameron should send a big fat royalty check (to the tune of 1.34 Billion) to JUF.  That would be so great!  (In the meantime, don’t forget to make your JUF donation this year!)

Anyway, here are some of the Jewish connections I noticed.  Love to hear what you think:

1.  The movie is long—really long—like 3 hours long—but good—just like a Shabbat service.

2.  Hmmmm… a story about a little band of warriors with a lot of heart, but far less sophisticated weapons, who challenge a much better organized and equipped army in order protect their land?  Sounds familiar...Oh, I know!  It’s Chanukah!!

3.  Neytiri, Jake’s Na’vi Beshert, is the embodiment of every gorgeous Israeli woman I ever dreamed of dating.  She’s got swagger and confidence, she’s fierce, fearless, passionate, and at the same time she’s extremely loving and loyal once you win her respect.  Sure, she might make you learn Hebrew and move to Israel, and she will likely dare you to jump off a huge tree, but know this—if you ever get attacked by a pack of wolves, (or ten angry terrorists) she’ll take em’ all down.

4.  Na’vi, the name of the indigenous people of Pandora means “prophet” in Hebrew.  The name of their god—Eywa if you rearrange the letters, spells Yawe…which is just like YAHWEH (the name of our God) and if you add just one letter to Tsahik, the name of the spiritual leaders of Na'vi clans, you get tzadik, the Hebrew word for a righteous person (as noted in other blogs).

5. The unlikely hero of the story, Jake Sully, had a physical impairment.  He cannot walk. With the use of another body (the Avatar) Jake is able transform the world.  Moses, one the greatest Jewish heroes of all time, also had a physical impairment.  He was “slow of speech and slow of tongue” (Ex. 3:10) and like Jake, Moses, with the use of another body, (that of his brother Aaron, who had no trouble speaking), and with the help of God, (actually it was the other way around) overcomes the mighty Pharaoh.

6.  The notion from the movie that “All living things are one—zalelu”—is Jewish.  Note this story about the late Rabbi Isaac Kook, first chief Rabbi of Israel:  One day Rav Kook was walking in the fields with a student when the young man carelessly plucked a leaf off a branch.  Visibly shaken by this act, Rav Kook turned to his companion and said gently, “Believe me when I tell you I never simply pluck a leaf or a blade of grass or any living thing unless I have to.  Every part of the vegetable world is singing a song breathing forth a secret of the diving mystery of creation.”  For the first time the young student understood the meaning of showing compassion to all living things.  (Spirit in Nature: Teaching Judaism and Ecology on the Trail, Biers-Ariel, Newborn and Smart, pg 22)

7.  The big Tree—“Home Tree” is clearly like the Tree of Knowledge from the first story of Genesis and the Na’vi are living in the Garden of Eden.  Problem is the evil General doesn’t heed Deuteronomy 20:19 which states, “when you wage war against a city…you must not destroy its trees.”  When the tree is destroyed, the people are exiled, reminding us all of the destruction of the Temple in 70CE.  The “Tree of Souls,” the center of the Na’vi’s religious and cultural life and a place where the Na’vi can connect to all the ancestors of the past, is an obvious metaphor for the Torah, which is a “Tree of Life to all who hold fast to it.”  Like the “Tree of Souls”, the Torah is our connection to God, to our people past and present and our center of religious life.  That is why when our enemies have persecuted us in the past, the first symbolic target in their crosshairs is the Torah.

8.  Some say Pandora's floating "Hallelujah Mountains" were inspired by the Chinese Huang Shan mountains, I say the inspiration came from the following Midrash:

At the foot of Mt. Sinai, God's words boomed down upon the Israelites. The people stood, flabbergasted and stupefied with fear.  Slowly, apprehensively, they moved closer.  As they drew nearer, God lifted Mt. Sinai and held it over their heads:  IF YOU ACCEPT MY TORAH, FINE!  God said.  IF NOT, YOUR GRAVES WILL BE UNDER THIS MOUNTAIN!  The people shouted, WE ACCEPT!

9.  When Jake becomes a Na’vi, we can’t help but be reminded of the process of becoming a Jew.  As a rite of passage to become an adult Na’vi, Jake must tame and fly an Ikran, a terrifying wild birdlike creature.  To become Jewish adults, we have to tame our nerves and fly by the seat of our pants during our Bar or Bat Mitzvah.  After much practice, we find that we soar.  Also, when Jake is completely immersed in Na’vi culture, to his surprise, he falls in love with their people, religion, culture and God.  As is noted elsewhere, Jake’s trip to forests of Pandora does for him what an Israel trip does for many American Jews.  Jake’s encounter then leads him to what I saw as the last scene in the movie—a beautiful conversion ceremony, not unlike what we have in Judaism.  Jake, with the support of the entire community, the Kehilla, who are singing and swaying with total Kavanah, hears sacred words chanted, and awakens with his eyes open, now ready to see the world through new and excited eyes—much like the experience of someone who converts to Judaism and suddenly sees the world through Jewish eyes.
 
10.  Finally, when the movie trailer opens Jake’s states that he wants to make a difference and hopes to find something worth fighting for.  In other words, Jake is searching for his Holy Mission, his opportunity to impact the world for the better.  This is ultimately a religious search and the point of Judaism—for each of us to find what God has put us on this planet to do and to serve that Holy Mission in a way that brings honor to ourselves, our families, our people and all of humanity.  In a way, we Jews are just like the Jake character in the movie, searching for our best selves, always striving to learn what really matters in life and always making a positive difference in the lives of others. I think therefore, that it is more than mere coincidence the main character’s name is Jake.  To us, he is Jacob, which is of course another name for ISRAEL—which really means that he is all of us.

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Cheers! Chicago: Pass the Grape Juice, Please

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01/08/2010

Cheers! Chicago: Pass the Grape Juice, Please photo

“Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.”

As a kid, I remember sitting in the main dining hall for Shabbat lunch, a long-standing tradition at my elementary/middle school. Every Friday, the elementary school students sat in the long, close-quartered cafeteria tables, while the middle school students were privileged enough to sit at the large roundtables with white linens and bread baskets filled with warm, round challahs. It was the biggest thrill for me as a fifth grader to walk into my first Friday lunch and get to sit at the big tables! Each week, a different table acted as the “head table” and each person at that table helped to lead a different prayer in the service—light the candles, break the bread, and of course, toast the wine.

Or, in our case, we toasted the grape juice.

As I look back at that time, I’m reminded that our religion is filled with tradition and celebration, including our weekly homage to Shabbat, when we are commanded by God to welcome each week’s end by consuming an alcoholic beverage. Is this right? Is this good? As kids, even though we were drinking grape juice, we were pretending to drink wine, were we not? Back then, I liked grape juice, so much that whenever someone was sick in class, I always asked for their allocated juice cup. But once I got older and learned about the tradition of drinking wine not only on Shabbat but also on other Jewish holidays, I wondered why the Jewish community felt it was necessary to drink on these occasions, and even questioned whether this had any kind of effect on us on a genetic level.

After doing a bit of research, I found some interesting answers to my questions. The Center for the Advancement of Health says that a particular gene found in the Jewish people is also one that, “produces a more active form of alcohol dehydrogenase, the enzyme that catalyzes the first step in alcohol metabolism.” In other words, in a culture that seems to encourage drinking, there appears to be a gene that naturally helps us metabolize alcohol more quickly. Ten years ago, the Jewish Museum in New York City had an exhibit sponsored by Seagram & Sons called “Drink and Be Merry: Wine and Beer in Ancient Times” that examined the alcohol production and drinking customs in the eastern Mediterranean and Near East over the past 5000 years. No surprise: it included “sections of the Dead Sea Scrolls dealing with the ancient Jewish festival for new wine”.

Whether or not genetics have anything to do with it, as a real life bartender, watching people consume alcohol for a living, I know it’s the choices we make that count. For us as Jews, it’s both a religious commandment and a cultural privilege. We are able to acknowledge and revere the fruits of our Creator without denying ourselves any enjoyment. For many Jews, raising a glass of wine every Friday at sundown was, and still is, one of our most important traditions; for others, it is evokes a  lifelong heartwarming memory of childhood, and of everything that made it all possible.

And by the way, even though I pour and taste lots of wine for a living – and I mean LOTS – I still prefer grape juice.

L’Chaim!

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Fabulous in 2010

 Permanent link
01/07/2010

It’s that time of year again— have you made your New Year’s resolutions yet?

You knew the fitness expert wasn’t going to let go of an opportunity to encourage you to make some healthy resolutions for 2010. The trick to a lasting resolution is attainability. If you set some crazy goal, lose 30 pounds by March, it probably won’t happen. A better goal would be, exercise at least three times a week, or look better in my bathing suit by eating more veggies and exercising thirty minutes a day.

Let’s tackle some 2010 goals right now! What would make this year awesome? Really, take the pen that’s somewhere on your desk, and right down whatever comes to mind.

• More money
• Less weight
• Boy/girl friend
• Baby
• To be engaged
• An exciting job
• More energy
• European trip…

About a million years ago, back in 1999, I wrote down that I wanted to go take a trip to Australia. I gave myself a year to get there. At the time, I was an underpaid consultant, making half of what my friends where making, traveling to the saddest cities in the US— sorry if you are from Muskogee— and living out of a suitcase. Well, fast forward six months. I WAS IN AUSTRALIA! After I wrote down my dream, I checked how many frequent flier miles I needed to rack up to get there, the day I hit 65,000 I called United and booked my trip. I still had the crappy job, but I was on a topless beach and definitely not complaining at all. So, writing down a crazy dream and giving it a date, works!

Bigger goals, like saving for a house, or going back to school take a little more planning and sometimes, you need to ask for help. Who is going to help you reach your awesome goals? Next to your item or items to achieve in 2010, write down a helper. This can be a friend, coworker, trainer (me), spouse, boss, financial planner, anyone who can help you reach your goal. Number one on my list is my wife. She is an amazing support system.  No matter how crazy my idea is, she’ll support and nag me until I get it done.

Now you don’t have to create an entire project plan in one day, but start thinking about what you need to do to be successful. About seven years ago, I dug myself into a little credit card debt. Okay, actually, it was a lot of credit card debt. I was constantly freaking out, my career as a personal trainer and party promoter wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped. Finally, I decided enough was enough! I got on Excel and put down all the money I owed, consolidated my debt, set up a budget…and 8 months later no credit card debt! And let me tell you, that felt incredible.

If fitness is your goal, good luck. Look at the gym in January and then look again in February. Since most people give up on their goals, follow the steps above. Write down your weight goal, find a work out buddy, figure out when you’re going to the gym, and set up meals that include a protein, carb and fat.

  

For more tips on how to keep those New Year’s goals, check out Rachel’s article.

Have specific fitness questions? As always, feel free to send me a note or comment below.

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Learning to channel passion

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01/06/2010

Learning to channel passion photo 1

I’m a mentor in the Write On For Israel program, which means that one Sunday a month I hear things like “I’m a lifelong Zionist” from juniors in high school. I want to respond with, “You’re 16!!!”

But then I remember how I was at 16 – that’s just 10 years ago in case you’re wondering – and all of my amusement at what my grandmother calls “youthful maximalism” dissipates. At 16, I thought I knew all the answers. And I thought I could give a lesson or two to my teachers. Here’s the catch: the student Fellows in the Write On program really could teach us a lesson or two and they really do know the answers in many cases.

The program is centered on teaching how to argue in support of Israel, while giving these future journalists, lobbyists and politicians the tools they need to be successful in their efforts. My role involves evaluating – not grading – their homework and leading discussions about their assignments and the lectures. I also might get to teach a session closers to the end of the seminar series in June.

When I first found out about the opportunity, I jumped at the chance. I had heard of the program in college and regretted that my hometown community – Cincinnati – did not have anything like it. I would have loved to develop my writing skills and simultaneously learn about Israel’s history, politics and current events. Although I kept up with Israel news, opportunities to learn about Israel from a variety of perspectives were limited. Besides Chicago, Write On programs thrive in three other communities: New York (where the program began), Cleveland and San Francisco.

In the Chicago program, we have participants who have grown up not only with complete access to information, but also opportunities to discuss issues surrounding Israel both at home and at school. We also have participants who have very vague ideas about what Israel’s history looks like but who believe that Israel is essential to the survival of the Jewish people. They are not afraid to speak up, to argue, to think about the issues surrounding this tiny speck of a land that has been the guiding light for generations of Jews.

Learning to channel passion photo 2

All of the Write On Fellows are extremely bright and all have interests outside school and Israel. Some are on their school’s basketball team; others are very active in their synagogue’s youth group. Some go to Jewish high schools, while others are at suburban public schools. What draws them together is passion.

A testament to that passion is the Fellows’ extra commitment to spend six hours one Sunday per month learning alongside the instructors and mentors – and probably another five hours on homework a month for the next six months.

In the few meetings we’ve had so far and from reading their homework, it’s clear that Israel, writing, debate and, most importantly, learning in general are at the core of the Fellows’ being. They are excited about the program: In most cases they chose it rather than being pressured to apply by their parents. They aren’t here to pad their resumes (although the program’s prestige certainly looks great on a college application). And they signed up knowing it isn’t just a one-year commitment: Write On is a two-year program. Senior Fellows complete independent projects rather than spending time in a classroom.

Of course, sheer passion can’t win an argument. In fact, letting passion go to your head can quickly thwart even the best-planned line of reasoning. It’s our job as mentors and instructors to teach them the best ways to express their passion and devotion to Israel. We talk about sources and finding credible information; we read the foremost experts in the field; and we hear from dedicated professionals who put into perspective Israel’s past, present and future. The hope is that these future leaders might use the tools Write On gives them throughout their lives.

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At least you have your health

 Permanent link
01/05/2010

At least you have your health photo

One of my unearthed writing samples

The week that ended in Christmas was going to be productive, if not entirely jolly. My parents no longer live year round in the house I grew up in, which is an old American four-square in Athens, Ohio. They had been bugging me for the better part of a year to clean out all the boxes piled high with my childhood, so I could haul what I liked to their new place in Columbus, with its many unused walk-in closets. Weekend visits are never enough time to get anything done, much less dive into twenty-some years of artifacts and memories, so I was really pleased with myself when I was able to take a week off and go be responsible for once.

I flew in Sunday morning, got a ride to Athens Monday morning and got in exactly one day of work at the house, in which time I managed to discover every piece of paper I’d ever written on between 1994 and 2002. That night I met up with a friend, and we went out to a beloved Chinese restaurant. We shared two dishes, and I took the leftovers home. The next day, my sesame chicken announced it had gone to the dark side. Let’s just say the whole thing was highly undignified.

Actually, it was pretty scary. We had almost nothing in our house, not even saltines. I was too weak to go anywhere, the whole town was on Christmas vacation and my parents were 80 miles away. A glimpse of myself in a mirror showed a refugee from a bad horror flick (my credit would be “Animated Corpse #3”). I’m not used to feeling that vulnerable: living in Chicago has always made me want to prove I can do everything myself. The only option seemed to be waiting it out. Like a genius, I tried to pass the time with episodes of House, MD. Nothing like a medical dramedy to keep you from getting paranoid.

I wasn’t alone, though. That’s the thing. I got over my aversion to bothering people at home and called a family friend, who showed up on my porch half an hour later with Gatorade, soup, bread for toast, jam, saltines and Sleepytime tea. He ordered me to call him regularly with status updates, even at odd hours. He both stayed in regular contact with my parents and ran interference, so they wouldn’t call me when I was trying to sleep. He continued to check in days later, just to make sure I was feeling better, and was ready to drive me the two hours back to my parents’ place himself. I wanted electrolytes: I got an on-call super-nurse.

People talk about how movies or books or true stories reaffirm their faith in humanity, even after a year as sometimes dispiriting as this one has been. For me, it was a rogue box of leftovers. Expect the unexpected, I guess.

My mom says the same thing every time she gives a gift: “Use it in good health.” I could say the same thing about 2010. Keep your Gatorade handy, and have a happy, healthy new year.

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Mazel Tov, 2009!!!

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01/04/2010

“Mazel Tov”. It’s a catchy phrase, isn’t it? We Jews like to use it whenever we can: at Bar Mitzvahs, weddings, when your uncle buys a new car (and pays below the dealer cost!) when you realize after sitting through all nine hours of “Wicked” that the tickets were free, and during other equally joyous celebrations.

And yet I can’t think of a better use of “Mazel Tov” than to thank God that 2009 is over. In fact, let’s try it. 2009 has come to an end; Mazel Tov. No, make that Mazel Tov! How about this: MAZEL TOV!!! (Feel free to add smiley faces or an LOL at the end of your use of the phrase if it feels right.)

Seemingly everyone and every media outlet is dwelling on the close of the first decade of the 2000’s, which began with non-stop stories about Y2K and ended with non-stop stories about the TSA. (By the way, any potential shoe-bombers reading this article can expect an old fashioned butt whoppin’ from the Shan-Dawg if you pull that on one of my many flights. I’m serious. This is 5 feet and 5 and a half inches of absolute fury waiting to be unloaded.) But I’ll save my Mazel Tov for a more specific cause: the close of one of the more ridiculous and abjectly stupid years that I can remember. In a year of many mishaps and embarrassments, let’s consider three big ones that will always stand out in my mind, and makes the coming of 2010 worthy of many other Hebrew words I don’t even know.

In no particular order:

2009 CHICAGO SPORTS – This is a topic for which the term “Oy” was originally coined. Everywhere you look – and no, I’m not including the Chicago Blackhawks, a team that from 1995-2008 had the same number of fans as does NBC’s “Chuck” – Chicago teams were brutal this year. The White Sox limped along all year, only redeemed by a rare perfect game by pitcher Mark Buherle. By mid season, their GM traded away arguably their best player, someone who’s also one of the best hitters of the last 15 years in all of baseball, then claimed, “hey, we’re still in this thing”. No, Kenny Williams. You were not.

The Bulls? A team that once won six titles in a decade turned a playoff LOSS to the Celtics into a marketing campaign. Then they refused to re-sign one of the best shooters in basketball despite his desire to stay here, and as of this writing, are holding on to a coach who’d previously never coached a basketball game on any level during his life. (Why they didn’t just call me to do the job is both curious and highly insulting.) When a franchise that gave the world Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen is now happy just to lose a tough playoff series, you know the glory days are long gone.

Which brings me to my beloved Chicago Cubs. Everyone knows the Cubs are a century-plus long disaster. That’s not exactly breaking news. Indeed, for roughly 29 of the 35 years of my life, the Cubs have been an absolute laughingstock. But this year, they achieved a whole new level of bad, by signing a player (Milton Bradley) whom everyone in baseball knew was crazy. The Cubs then proceeded to appear shocked when he started acting crazy. Imagine Dennis Rodman without the talent, sense of humor, or likability. That’s Milton Bradley, folks. But it wasn’t all Milton’s fault. Alfonso Soriano, who made about $140,000 per RBI, accidentally forgot how to play baseball. Giovanny Soto apparently discovered Lou Malnatis. And Ryan Dempster started to resemble, well, Ryan Dempster. You want to talk about a jinx? Is it a coincidence that one of the most disappointing Cubs seasons in a half century occurred after they jettisoned their one Jewish pitcher, Jason Marquis? I think not. Marquis went on to become an all-star (which, no doubt, made his mother very, very proud) while the Cubs were out of the pennant race by mid-summer. Perhaps new Cubs owner Tom Ricketts needs a reminder that about half of the Cubs’ fan base arrives at Wrigley via the Purple Line and a trek from the north shore. Might not be such a bad idea to hang onto some tribesmen in the future.

THAT GAP CHEERLEADING COMMERCIAL – I like the Gap and have shopped there long enough to remember their old-school, western-tinged ad campaign with a low-voiced dude singing, ala that guy from the Oak Ridge Boys (don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m referring to), “Fall Into The Gap”. But their recent cheerily cryptic ad with the little girls who resemble the cast of “Annie” on speed screaming to me that I should “talk to the moose” has gone too far. It’s been burned into my consciousness, to the point where occasionally I have visions of that one girl who clenches her arms and emits what appears to be a blood-curdling scream while her friends sing that they love their comfy sweater. (Granted, those visions could have something to do some bad decisions made at a Dead show, but I digress…) My point is this: I don’t care how cute your boots are. Please stop yelling at me and do not come back in 2010. Hey mom and dad, guess what? Your kids need Valium.

THE TEA-BAGGERS – I came out of the womb a liberal, a fact that many of you who’ve read my columns must be aware of based on the inordinate amount of Sarah Palin references I try to squeeze into each OY! article. (The Beatles re-released their catalog? What a perfect excuse to bash Ms. Palin!) But this goes beyond mere politics. Let’s face it, regardless of one’s political affiliation, both sides have a whole lot to dislike. But a certain group of Americans, who proudly refer to themselves as “Tea-Baggers” (I’ll let the term and its myriad ironies speak for itself), took political insanity to a whole new level this year, and made Keith Olbermann and Rush Limbaugh look like two of the more measured people in the world. (Self-involved note: be sure to catch “Rush: The Musical” at Second City e.t.c. starting this February. You’ll love it. Or be very offended. I kind of hope for both.)

The debate which so passionately (and loudly) moved the Tea-Bagger types became not about any salient issues, but rather such fantastical concepts as whether or not our President would oversee death panels, kill your Grandma, and choose which Americans would get healthcare. The words “Hitler”, “Nazi”, and “Socialism” were overused more than once – usually without any regard for their actual historical connotation or power – and all the while the President was disregarded anyway because he allegedly wasn’t even an American. It’s tough to argue with ill-informed conspiracy theorists, and any reasonable attempts were thwarted with foaming-at-the-mouth yelling and screaming at town hall meetings. At one point, Arlen Spector was nearly shouted to death by a man on Medicare who passionately didn’t believe anyone else deserved to be on Medicare.

By the end of the year, things had calmed down considerably, but the summer of 2009 – and its corresponding healthcare “debates” will likely be remembered as one of the darker and more stupid eras in modern American history. It did confirm the theory that if you give a crazy person a microphone, he’s probably gonna say a whole lot of crazy s**t. (One particular supporter of the tea-bagger cause, who makes a whole lot of money as host on a major news network, spent a good amount of his time either crying or calling the President racist. Sometimes in the same breath. That this man has an inordinate amount of followers makes even proud Americans like me want to head for the tropical paradise of Canada in a hurry.)

Of course, a whole lot else happened this year. American Idol crowned their 27h meaningless winner, Michael Jackson ascended to that Neverland in the sky, and, horror of all horrors, Tiger Woods enjoys more than just golf. (Why this was a bigger story than the torrid affair of a “family values” Southern governor is worthy of an entirely different column. E-mail me directly if you’d like my warped take on this.)

On a personal level, the year wasn’t a total wash; I was fortunate enough to experience a few pretty great moments in 2009. “Rod Blagojevich Superstar” became my first hit, my family and friends were happy and healthy, and I was given the honor of writing for Oy! That said, here’s a pint-sized “Mazel Tov” for the good moments of 2009, but a gigantic, all-caps “MAZEL TOV” that the year is over. Onto better and bigger things in 2010, and may each one of you reading this experience nothing but peace, love, and prosperity going forward. Is that worthy of an emphatic Mazel Tov, or what?

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