How Would You Deal This?

Last evening, I had an uncomfortable encounter with a man I had just met. 

We had been invited to an intimate Chanukah celebration at the home of a dear friend. My parents were also invited, but other than them, we were unaware of the guest list. I suspected my friend's cousins would also be there, and I was excited to see them again. It had been far too long between visits. So, we packed my folks into the car and off we went.  

When we arrived, I was thrilled to see my old friends. The hostess had also included her business partner, who kept my overly gregarious father busy with her tales of woe, and her 99-year-old uncle, whom I hadn't seen since we shared a Pesach seder over thirty years ago. The man is still as sharp as a tack and twice as witty. Rounding out the attendees were two couples from my friend's building that she is close with; one originally from New York and transplanted to South Florida, and the other snowbirds from Toronto. We shook hands, made our acquaintance, and dispensed with the superficial social conventions. 

I am often shy and quiet in new social situations. I initially listen to conversations around me and get a feel for the people I have just met. Some people mistake this for rudeness. I promise I'm not rude, but rather unsure of my surroundings. Introverted people lay back. We don't jump into new conversations with both feet. More often than not, we take stock and then engage. I absolutely avoid discussions about politics or religion until I can get a handle on how people react. I needn't have worried. Between my dad, who is never at a loss for words, and the other guy from Toronto, there wasn't a moment to participate in the conversations. Have you ever been confronted with a situation whereby you know immediately and instinctively that somebody rubs you the wrong way? That was me with this gent from my hometown. He walked into the house like he owned the place, was loud and obnoxious in his demeanour, and had an opinion about everything, from the Chanukiyot on the table to the choice of which Chanukah songs we would sing. He overshadowed his lovely wife in every way imaginable, including correcting her multiple times during her stories. He was boorish, pompous, and pontificating. I stayed quiet. All Jews are talking about Israel these days, but I was silent. All Jews are discussing the rise of antisemitism, but again I simply listened. I wasn't shocked to hear Mr. Boor and his wife spout long-disputed conspiracy theories about Mr. Trudeau or the CBC, but again I remained mum. 

 The Husband and I did that marital glance we do when we want to roll our eyes but refrain from doing so for fear that someone might see us. We were definitely on the same page about this dude.

Mr. Boor settled in comfortably for the evening. People like him always do. They take command and control of the setting and the people and then proceed to dominate every conversation. Our hostess was gracious and charming. She invited The Husband and me into the kitchen to point out the vegetarian options she had prepared especially for us. She went out of her way for her aged uncle and was attentive to her guests. She even made sure that all of the food was strictly kosher because Mr. Boor and his wife are practitioners. The conversation at dinner was lively and engaging. I offered an opinion on something I thought was benign, but it turns out nothing is benign these days. I decided to shut up for the rest of the evening.

And then, it happened. I was asked by another of the guests what I did for a living. I told her I was a retired cantorial soloist. For some reason, Jews always find this fascinating. We talked a bit about my career and what it was like for a woman to be a clergyperson. Well, Mr. Boor went off on me like I had two heads. He'd never heard of a woman officiating at a funeral. He told me that Reform Judaism has a different Halacha than his brand. He was condescending and contemptuous. I was firm but polite. There was no way that I was going to disrespect my host by losing my temper, but this fuckwad had grated on my last nerve. I told him that perhaps he hadn't seen a woman officiate at a Jewish funeral in his circles, and I proceeded to tell him that there are many women clergy in Toronto. I had personally officiated at dozens of funerals. I even was so bold as to remind him that the senior rabbi of Holy Blossom is a woman. I suggested that maybe he should expand his Jewish circle and broaden his knowledge. He started to come back at me when I told him that it was perfectly okay with me for him to observe Judaism in any manner that he wished, so long as he afforded me the same courtesy. I wasn't rude and I never told him he was wrong, even though I desperately wanted to.

I am certain that he went home and complained about me to his wife. I'm sure that he thinks that I am a first-class bitch. It wouldn't be the first time that some arrogant prick thought I was too mouthy, but I am so over caring what other people think about me. As we got into the car to drive home, The Husband and I said in almost perfect unison, "What an asshole." My parents, who were having a perfectly lovely evening at the other end of the table, had no idea what had occurred. I had to recount the entire evening for them. They were stunned and a bit mortified.

I will never understand what drives a person to be so rude to someone they have just met. We should have been talking about the Leafs or the Jays. Instead, this guy decided to make me a target and I refused to allow it. I am proud of how I handled him, but I never want to be in his company again.

There is a freedom that comes with aging. I refuse to take shit from anyone. I've spent far too many years swallowing my opinions and my thoughts. This guy had it coming. I hope he remembers me as the bitch who came to Chanukah.

Is This Odd Or Is It Just Me?

Quick story to tell you all, but it is either really odd or I am simply old. You decide.

I ordered some workout clothes from a site on the intertoobs that I have often used. I like their fabrics, the fit is on point, and I have never had a problem with shipping in neither Canada nor the country below. When I went to visit the site on Black Friday, I noticed that they were having a sale, and I ordered two pairs of running shorts and two tops. (This little detail becomes important later.) The cost immediately came through on my credit card, and I was promised delivery via the United States Postal Service in six to ten business days. Weekends do not count in this equation even though USPS delivers on Saturdays. (I am not sure that any of my American friends realize what a big deal this is for those of us from other countries. We haven't had Saturday mail delivery in the Great White North for decades.)

I received emails from the company advising me of the order, the charge, and the expected delivery date. I was also given a tracking number from USPS. Last Friday, on December 1st, I received a notification from the postal service that my delivery had arrived. The company, taking their cues from USPS, also sent me an email that my package was here. I went down to the front desk of my building to retrieve the parcel, only to discover that contrary to my notifications, nothing had come from the company. I checked our postal box, just to be safe, and it was then that the security gent at the front desk told me that sometimes USPS scans packages as delivered, even though they weren't. It could sometimes take a couple of days for it to arrive. 

I was incredulous. I simply cannot understand why this is an acceptable business practice. I can't imagine how many angry calls and emails USPS must receive from customers searching for their packages, only to discover that the scan and deliver later is standard operating procedure. I decided to give it the weekend before I made inquiries of the sportswear apparel company.

Yesterday morning, I had a chat with said company. They were very nice and reiterated USPS policy. (BTW...when I went to the USPS website with my tracking number, it confirmed that the package had indeed been delivered and left at the front desk. Truly bizarre.) The company asked me to wait out the day yesterday as it was the policy to give USPS 48-hours during regular business hours to deliver the package. In the meantime, they put a note on the file that informed them that I would be checking back in with them today in the event of a non-delivery.

Today, I finally had enough. I once again made contact with the company, reiterated my concern that the package was indeed lost, and I required either a new shipment or a credit. After some hemming and hawing, they agreed that USPS had been derelict in the duties and we split the difference. They credited what they could no longer ship because it was now out of stock, AND they resent the remainder of the order.

Two hours later, I received a notification from my concierge that I had a package. (Come on! You knew it was coming, right?) The Husband retrieved the parcel and, lo and behold, it was my original order PLUS an extra pair of shorts. 

Hoo boy did I have guilt. 

I immediately went back to the apparel company and cancelled the reshipment. I explained what had occurred and they were very understanding. I tried to give back the credit, but they were lovely and told me to keep it. Very unnecessary but very nice.

I am still left with questions about the delivery practices of USPS. Personally, I think it is really stupid. If I get a delivery from FedEx or UPS, somebody has to sign for it. Why is it ok for the post office to tell me something is delivered when it clearly isn't, and I can't track it further nor complain about it?

Odd or old? Which is it? Am I just not comprehending the new realities or is this just weird? In the meantime, I have three new pairs of shorts, two new tops, and a $40.00 credit. I guess I win?

How To Be Better Online In This Difficult Moment

Friends,

I wish I had words of brilliance or comfort to offer. 

I have none. 

My emotional reserves are empty, and my exhaustion knows no bounds. I am broken, and I am dark.

I am not a therapist, nor am I trained in trauma. I am not an expert in geopolitical matters, nor am I interested in decades-old circular arguments. 

We experienced a collective evil last weekend. I am not about to enter into asymmetrical discussions because they are stupid and vapid.

I have no real expertise to offer you in this miserable moment, save one.

I have an excellent bullshit detector.

People far more eloquent than I am I will guide you to prayer. People far more knowledgeable than I will direct you to sources on the ground. My only purpose here is to help you filter through the bullshit. Misinformation and disinformation are the twin cancers of this century. I implore you to not get caught up in their vortices. 

We live in dangerous times and those dangers are only exacerbated online. Some malevolent actors are preying on our vulnerabilities right now in the hope that they can flood the zone with shit and pit us against one another. I am hoping that my little hints here will guide you through your online grief.

1. My first instruction is to not post anything at all about the crisis. (This is my default right now because I feel so inadequate.) I realize that asking this of many is a fool's errand. Social media can provide a comforting community that aids in healing. I also believe that there are many people doing yeoman's work in providing important context, aid, updates, and human stories. If you must post, for your own sanity and well-being, make certain that the post is your own thoughts or those of someone you know well and trust. 

2. Avoid memes and unsourced photographs. There are a lot of those floating around right now. Be careful. Posting a photograph without checking the source is reckless and dangerous.

3. Politicians are people who are suffering just like the rest of us. The difference is that most of them have agendas they wish to advance. Read all of them, left and right, even if you hate their politics. It is the hardest thing to do, but I really believe that most of them are trying their best. (Note: I said most. The caveat here is obvious bad actors. We know who they are without naming them.)

4. Avoid posting in haste. If you see something that sounds weird or off, do some fact-checking. Stop your finger from hitting that send button. If you need help or sources for this, ask questions. Posting out of anger, fear, or helplessness is usually a bad idea. 

5. Never post without context. There is a great deal of fear percolating around the world right now, and posting something that will level that fear up without a source or context is simply irresponsible. 

6. Canadians are at a disadvantage at the moment due to social media blocking our sharing of news organizations. There are workarounds to this like cutting and pasting. Please make the effort if you want to share a relevant news story.

7. Get your children off of social media. It is a truly miserable place right now and protecting them should be a priority. Talk to them. Be honest with them. Letting them see horror is destructive.

8. Go do something else. Go for a walk. Exercise. Look at pictures of puppies. Read a book. Turn off the computer and the TV. I watched the Mr. Dressup documentary and the hockey game. It helped.

That's it.

That's all that I have to offer. It isn't much but it might give us some needed perspective. 

Here is a prayer for peace from my old friend Dan Nichols

הַשְׁכִּיבֵֽנוּ, יְיָ אֱלֹהֵֽנוּ, לְשָׁלוֹם, וְהַעֲמִידֵנוּ שׁוֹמְרֵֽנוּ לְחַיִּים

Grant, O God, that we lie down in peace, and raise us up, our Guardian, to life renewed. 

We Be TIFFing Again

Editor's Note: For the eighth consecutive year, Dawn and The Husband will be spending a few nights attending the Toronto International Film Festival, known to the locals as TIFF. While they can now proudly call themselves seasoned veterans of this madness, they have once again scaled back their viewing opportunities because the TIFF website is STILL a colossal shitshow, unworthy of spending hours attempting to navigate, and because Rosh Hashana will interfere with their viewing time. The roster of films is back up to pre-pandemic levels but is disappointingly sparse this year on digital viewing. The various guild strikes in the United States have played havoc with many of the larger films, as neither actors nor writers will be attending the festival unless they are directors or have waivers from their unions. Therefore, there will only be three films screened. TIFF still serves as a tremendous distraction from the world's ills and allows for some much-needed escapism during these tumultuous times. The next several posts will focus exclusively on TIFF and will offer very short bullet point reviews for the movies seen. You've all been warned.

I will admit I was less than enthusiastic about attending TIFF this year. Part of the energy of the festival is tied up in the attendance of the talented people who create the films. The question-and-answer sessions that follow the screenings give a quick peek into the creative process. Major studios are skipping Toronto this year because of the union strikes and few A-list actors will be attending. I am not a star-gazer, but I cannot deny that having George Clooney answer audience questions following the debut of his latest film, is a major plus for this TIFF attendee. I am about to say something political, so if you want to stop reading now, I will totally understand. We came very close to ditching our TIFF membership this year because of their corporate partnership with Therme Canada, the pirates who are attempting to build a massive greenhouse structure at Ontario Place. When TIFF pulled out of the deal, we decided to go ahead on a limited basis. As I mentioned above, the website for choosing films is the most tangled experience this side of Ticketmaster. We will be dealing with that mess after the festival. We chose three small films this year because of the crash and burn on the site and so that we would avoid as much confrontation with the party-goers as possible.

Our first film comes from director Michael Winterbottom. Shoshana tells the story of star-crossed lovers against the backdrop of the British Mandate in Palestine. Shoshana Borochov, daughter of esteemed Zionist intellectual Ber Borochov, works as an independent journalist in the very young city of Tel Aviv. The British, who control Palestine, have sent officers to the region to attempt to keep the peace between the Jews and Arabs as they both struggle to maintain footholds in the land. Students of Israeli history will know of the various Jewish groups that tried vastly different methods to further their cause. The Haganah, which acted as a political wing working toward statehood and of which Shoshana was a part, worked toward a diplomatic solution. Other Israeli groups, like the Irgun and the Stern Gang (Lehi) were more interested in a terror war. It is against this backdrop that Shoshana falls in love with a British officer named Tom Wilkin. While both of them are trying to accomplish the same goals, their affair and eventually marriage, are trying on both of them and their circles. 

It is always difficult to attempt to make a film about the Israeli/Arab conflict. Inevitably, people will find fault. So, it would be a mistake to judge this film by any political position that the director does or doesn't make. Winterbottom is simply using the period to tell the true story of these fascinating two people. He makes no judgements. Some viewers might find that frustrating, but I didn't. The history is there for the research on whatever side you wish to view it. Newcomer Irina Starshebaum steals the film with her performance of the headstrong and fiercely idealistic protagonist. She is simply luminous. The rest of the cast is a mixture of British and Israeli actors who fit the bills nicely. The director adeptly intersperses newsreel footage to give the impression of a between world wars feel. 

Shoshana succeeds as a Romeo/Juliet story against the images of a very difficult time. The problem is, that it doesn't go far enough in fleshing out Shoshana's story. She is a fascinating character and I would have liked to learn more about her. That said, Shoshana was a very enjoyable film and it puts the viewer into the period with great skill.

Shoshana is still searching for distribution so who knows when it will be seen by mass audiences given the upheaval in the industry. You might want to keep checking streaming services in the next few months.

Dawn and The Husband give Shoshana two yups, but they are right on the line.

To Talia On Her Second Birthday

Dearest Talia,

The author Gretchen Rubin once wrote, "The days are long, but the years are short." She was discussing parenting and how, despite so many trials and obstacles, watching children grow and mature seems to happen in the blink of an eye. Two years have disappeared in the blink of my eye. Here you are, on the precipice of two, and I honestly can't figure out how that is possible.

You were born right smack dab in the middle of a pandemic that was unlike anything anybody had ever before witnessed. We simply didn't know how our lives would recover or change. So much of what we knew before, like bringing a child into the world and raising an infant, was different. We were all so isolated and scared. Previously simple things, like introducing new people into your world, weren't the slam dunks they were for your sister. It imbued within you a sense of caution and care. And while it wasn't always thrilling to have you cry when I came close, I inherently understood how difficult navigating newness was for you. The side-eye glances and quivering lower lip were my cue to abandon ship, and once I put myself into your onesie, I got it. You were determined to take your time with people, and frankly, I think it is a skill that more of us should learn and adopt. 

We started finding our footing during the family trip to Disney last August. Spending prolonged periods with you alone allowed you to find your comfort zone. Disney can be an assault on the senses but you were down for it. Zaidy and I had a wonderful opportunity to have you on your own while Molly went off to do other things. Catching your cues and understanding who you were becoming, allowed us to unlock the beauty that is you. Watching you dive headlong into sampling new foods or ravaging an ice cream, gave me such a sense of the wonder you were experiencing. I had forgotten that children do things on their own timelines and you reminded me that yours was unique.

The tale of your first steps is a classic example of this. You stubbornly insisted that you simply were not interested in walking. Why walk when you could ride or be carried? As the months dragged on, and all of us saw the strength improving in our arm muscles, you played it oh so coyly. At a doctor's appointment sometime after your eighteen-month milestone, your parents told the doctor of their concerns that you still refused to walk. The doctor asked for a demonstration and they put you down in the middle of the floor. With only a gleam that a toddler could summon, you made every adult in that room look stupid when you walked nonchalantly over to Mommy. And then...you didn't walk again for over a month. A unique timeline, indeed. 

I loathe the word stubborn, especially when applied to girls. It makes us seem negative or nasty. I much prefer dogged, resolute, adamant, or persistent. You definitely are coming into your own in this way. You will not be pushed around by anyone, especially your big sister. You know what you want and are determined to voice your opinion with a loud and definite "NO". It is important to know what you want and how to get it. Tenaciousness will serve you well and soon, you will figure out how to further your goals with the art of debate. (Although, it seems like you are well on your way to that end.) Keep pushing, Talia. This world needs more direct and confident women.

Stay curious. This is the time when everything seems new and shiny. Delight in your accomplishments. I love that you already know all of your letters, colours, and animals. How did that happen? Nobody seems to know exactly, except that you seem to be a quiet sponge, listening and absorbing. It is all so very matter-of-fact. When asked what letter that is, you look at us as if we are from another planet. "Of course, it's a K. Don't you know?" Never let anyone define your intellect. It is ok to be smart and to show it. The only limitations will be those you put on yourself. I want you to know that you can do whatever you want. Girls are good at math. Girls are good at reading. Girls are good at science. Girls can like Barbie and baseball. Girls can rock and girls can argue. There is no such thing as being "ladylike". Get out there and kick ass when warranted and listen when necessary. Everything is in front of you.

And I want to be there to watch it all. I want to sing with you, dance with you, read with you, eat junk food with you, and play with you. I want to be able to answer your questions, calm your nerves, dry your tears, and provide what little wisdom I possess. I want you to know your history, your faith, your family, and your heritage. I want to give you the moon, but I will be satisfied to bequeath the stories. You are my heart, my love, my whole being. 

I rarely do this, but I am going to share with you a song that I love. It is sung by Lee Ann Womack and I hope that when you hear it, sometime in the future, you will know that Bubby was singing it to you.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty-handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance... I hope you dance...

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance,
Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin',
Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin',
Don't let some Hellbent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
I hope you dance... I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.)

Happy Birthday, Dearest Talia.

May today and all days be wondrous and special.

Much love, always

Bubby

To Molly As She Celebrates Five

Dearest Molly,

I had a conversation with your mom yesterday when I remarked that not only am I having trouble believing that you are five, but I am also having issues with how quickly five years have passed. The passage of time is a strange thing. For grown-ups, it races by very quickly. We lament how we were stressing about school one day, and in what feels like a blink of an eye, we are waving to our grandchildren as they embark on their scholastic careers. We, adults, are filled with nostalgia, and the future seems like it could very well be an unfulfilled promise. We inherently understand the bargain. We get to revel in our grandchildren and their growth, only to know that time is limited. We won't get to bear witness to the completed product. We get tantalizing glimpses of who you are and who you are becoming, but we can only imagine the entirety. If this sounds slightly maudlin, it isn't meant to be. Over the past three years, I have come to realize that time is among the only treasures that we can't replicate. We can't get back that which we have wasted. As we were all forced to separate for reasons of health, I am not certain that we fully understood the deeper consequences of our sequestration. Not being together challenged our patience, our norms, and our trust. We have seen children who are fearful of new situations and people, and we have seen older folks who still refuse to engage in their social circles for fear of illness. There are no easy answers to regain a modicum of what was lost, but moving forward we need to push ourselves to be with people again. 

You, my darling, don't seem to have any trouble engaging with people. You love being with children and you chat up new folks so easily. We joke that you are so comfortable with people that someday you will probably give some stranger your parents' pin numbers and alarm codes. I think that every single cast member at Disney World had an in-depth conversation with you. I especially loved how you and Merida compared red hair. We are working on teaching you the meaning of the word circumspect. There is an unguardedness to you that is just so pure I wish we could bottle it. There is also your innate strong-willed nature that I am certain your mom would love to see tempered. While it isn't always easy to back down from what you want, the balance between compromise and doggedness will serve you well in the long term, even if Mom doesn't think so right now. And while you are ready and willing to try most things, I am most impressed by your cautiousness. There is an internal understanding that not everything is easy. Some things require work, hard work. At five you seem to get that. I saw it in the pool down in Florida. You want to swim but you know instinctively that it isn't easy. You worked hard to overcome those trepidations and have moved forward in your learning. I am so proud of how you tackled your apprehension. And...now you know just how much fun the water can be.

Molly, as you enter into the second half of your first decade, I want to impart a bit of wisdom that I have learned as I enter into my seventh. It may not be right for everybody, but I think it will serve you well as you become more involved outside of your family unit and in the general community at large. The world is a big and fascinating place and learning to navigate it well is challenging. Let's call these nuggets Bubby's Bites.

Be Kind-Not everybody is and it is my feeling that many people have forgotten how to interact with others. Treat people with respect, dignity, and kindness and they will return the favour. This includes the person who might be holding up the line at the grocery store, the harried clerk, or your sister. Impart kindness and you will be rewarded tenfold.

Be Cautious-Always be aware of your surroundings. 

Be Prepared-Do your homework and always be ready with the answers when asked. Never go into a situation without knowing all of the permutations, and try not to "wing it". If you are prepared for what is coming, you won't be caught or embarrassed.

Be Organized-Make sure that you know where things are and can find them when asked. Somewhere down the road, you will be asked to organize your time as well. Learn how to balance things now. The lessons are much harder later.

Be On Time-Punctuality is a sign of respect. It is important to show other people that their time matters as much as yours.

Be Adventurous-Try new things and never stop learning. Do you want to learn music or an instrument? Make it happen. Do you want to rock-climb? Go for it. The whole world is out there. Do whatever interests you. 

Be Lazy-Laziness is highly underrated. Spend a day in your pyjamas without guilt. Watch tv and eat some junk food. Just don't let laziness become your norm.

Be Healthy-Some of this is obviously out of our control but learn the habits early. I wish that I started exercising long before I actually did. It is much easier to learn to take care of our bodies when we are young. That said, don't obsess over any of it. Just do what is fun. Go for a walk or a scooter ride, or get outside in the fresh air at the playground. Get enough sleep and don't stress too much. Take care of you.

Be Interested-Listening is a difficult skill to learn, but if you do it right other people will know that you care about them. Being interested in what other people like is a way of telling them that you enjoy them and want to be around them. Being interested and curious is how we learn.

Be Tolerant-Not everybody is just like you. People are different and that is what makes them interesting. Just because they don't like what you like, doesn't make them less than you. Accept people for who they are and what they are. 

Be Good To Family-Family is an odd creature. We love them with all of our hearts and souls and yet, sometimes, we really want to stick a fork in some of their eyes. The thing is, they love you unconditionally. Don't forget that when the chips are down, family is what will hold you together.

Be Happy-Sometimes, it is really easy to fall into the trap of staying miserable. We can't be happy all the time and sadness is a part of life. But, striving for happiness makes our journey a whole lot easier. Try and find the joy in whatever you are doing and if it doesn't bring you satisfaction, move on. Life is far too short to be weighed down by toxicity or ugliness.

That's enough for any five-year-old to get a good headstart. If the Divine Spirit is willing, there will be a whole lot more of these Bubby Bites. I can't wait to walk hand in hand with you as you discover all that your life has to offer. In the meantime, I will content myself with your giggles, silliness, seriousness, a few games of Candy Land, some more Paw Patrol builds, a few more challah bakes, a lot more songs, tons more family time, and an infinite amount of hugs and kisses. 

Happy Birthday, my darling girl. Enjoy it all and may you stay as fiery as your hair.

I love you forever and day,

Love,

Bubby

Our Sarah Polley Connection

Back in September, when we were choosing films to see at TIFF, I remarked to The Husband how much I wanted to see Sarah Polley's adaptation of Women Talking. I have been a fan of Ms. Polley's work for many years, and I was excited to see how she interpreted a Miriam Toews novel. Her compassionate direction and scriptwriting in the film Away From Her furthered my belief that she is one of the most gifted filmmakers of this generation. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only TIFF-goer with that idea. Women Talking was a hot ticket in Toronto, and we were forced to wait for a wider release. 

In the interim, Women Talking has been a favourite on the movie awards circuit this season. While Ms. Polley was ignored for her direction and her stellar cast has been shut out from acting honours/nominations, the film is still being talked about with awe and admiration. When it was finally released for streaming this week on International Women's Day (coincidence?), we jumped at the opportunity to view it. We absolutely loved it. It is a fabulous film.

When I told The Husband that the movie was finally within our grasp, he told me something I had never heard him say before. He told me how much he liked Sarah Polley's work and how much he would like to meet her in person. Now, you need to understand just how unusual it is for The Husband to say something like this. He is a very private and quiet person who has zero interest in celebrities. This is the same man who sat next to Eugene Levy on a plane and didn't say more than "hello." How is that even possible? When I dug a bit deeper, he explained. 

In the fall of 2012, we saw Ms. Polley's very personal and brilliant documentary Stories We Tell. If you haven't seen it, you really should. It looks at the relationship between Polley's parents, including the revelation that the filmmaker is the product of her mother's extramarital affair with another man. The movie is interspersed with interviews with her siblings, other relatives, and family friends. She reads from Michael Polley's memoir (the father who raised her), and she includes recreations of life events with a gauzy lens and actors playing the crucial roles. It is a fantastic movie, and we both walked out of it in tears.

The Husband failed to tell me at the time that this film was a catalyst for him. The fall of 2012 was also a hugely important time in his life. His father had just been diagnosed with a catastrophic illness that would ultimately claim his life. It was during that difficult time, my husband decided to dig into long-buried family secrets of his own that he had long suspected but could never confront. Sarah Polley's film prompted him to make a phone call that would change many lives. Without judgment, The Husband went on his own journey to learn about the secrets his dad had been keeping for decades. He desperately wanted answers to questions that had been eating at him for years, and, most of all, he wanted to know if this new-found sister and her mother wanted anything to do with him. It was a complicated unwinding of stories, familial relationships, interviews, phone calls, lunches, and confrontations. These aren't my stories to tell, and unfortunately, all of the principles are gone now, but I will say that it does have a happy ending in that The Husband is so excited to have his sister in his life and is anxious to continue building the relationship. I never knew that Sarah Polley pushed him to make that happen.

Ms. Polley does live in Toronto and is active in the community both artistically and politically. We don't want to stalk her online, it simply isn't who we are, but if anybody knows how to get a message to her, The Husband would like to say thank you. Me? I am really rooting for her on Sunday at the Oscars.

Mel and Carl's Chairs

I recently watched an interview with the children of the great comedy writer Carl Reiner. Carl's kids, including the accomplished actor/director Rob Reiner, were speaking publicly about a donation they made to the National Comedy Centre, which is opening a multimedia wing named for their famous father. Along with seventy-five boxes of scripts, articles, and blog posts, the family donated two chairs from Carl's family room. These were the chairs in which Carl and his lifelong best friend Mel Brooks sat. Carl and Mel first met in 1950, when the legendary Sid Caesar brought them together in the writer's room of Your Show of Shows. The two men collaborated for years on various projects before striking out on their own paths to comedy immortality. Even while pursuing solo projects, their friendship never wavered. After their respective spouses died, Mel would make the short walk to Carl's house every evening, and the two men would have dinner together. Sitting in those very chairs, the two comedy legends would eat, chat, exchange ideas, nap a lot, and critique movies and new comedy talent. They would share memories and bring each other up to date on the family. They repeated this routine every day for years until Covid kept them housebound for some time, ultimately ending with Carl's death in June 2020.

After Carl died, Mel did something that brought tears to my eyes when I heard about it during the interview. Every single day for the entire year after Carl's death, Mel continued his practice of walking over to Carl's home, sitting in those same chairs, and eating dinner. An entire year. It was Mel's way of honouring his friend.

There is no doubt in my mind that Mel, knowingly or not, was engaging in the ritual Jewish mourning practices. Jews have a very specific timeline for grieving. The first seven days of shiva are often very intense and observed by the deceased's immediate family. The family receives visitors so they may be comforted and encircled with care and love. The thirty days following the burial, known as shloshim, will see the family return to daily activities but refrain from parties or other joyous gatherings. Here's where it gets interesting. The twelve months after the death are known as avelut. It is traditional for mourners to attend synagogue daily so that they might say kaddish for their loved one. Avelut ends on the first yahrzeit, or anniversary of the death. I believe that Mel's beautiful ritual of continuing his trek to Carl's home for dinner was in the spirit of Avelut. I have no way of knowing what Mr. Brooks' involvement in or adherence to Jewish ritual is. Still, there is no doubt that he needed to find a way to not only honour his friend, whom he called his brother, but to also move through a process whereby his personal grief was recognized and validated. Dinner at Carl's was his approach to mourning.

Grief is an odd thing. No two people grieve in the same manner and there isn't a cookie-cutter process for acceptance. In all my years of synagogue work, I never saw any two situations that were identical. Judaism offers a roadmap and while it works for many, it doesn't work for all. We attempt to find ways to slog a path through grief. It can be long and arduous or it can be brief and compartmentalized. For some, it never ends.

Carl's children were so moved by Mel's gesture during his year of avelut, that they recognized the public importance of those chairs and knew that they needed to be part of their donation to the museum. When friends become family and family are friends, we needn't separate by DNA. Mel was immediate family to Carl. The rest as they say, is comedy history.

 

Some Jewish Thoughts for the Secular New Year

I hate the word resolution. Resolutions, by their nature, involve us in remediating a personal shortcoming. When we inevitably break those promises to ourselves, it is very difficult to go back. It is why so many resolutions are broken by the second week of January. We tend to see resolutions as a straight line. I resolve to lose 20 pounds this year.  When we inevitably fail, we have to start at the beginning. 

Judaism teaches us about teshuvah. Teshuvah means to return. We are invited into the process of redressing a deficiency. We reflect, we learn, we desire change, and we do the work necessary to hit the mark. If we miss it the first time, we can circle back and find it again.

With that in mind, here are some very Jewish things I'd like to do better for the secular New Year. Some are silly, and some are less so. 

1. Return to a synagogue in person. Three years is a long time to be withdrawn from a Kehillah Kedosha with only a virtual presence. It's time.

2. Eat some latkes when it isn't Chanukah. Fried foods and carbs be damned.

3. Make more challah.

4. Host a Shabbat dinner for friends.

5. Care more about the trees. (The 800 or so that Premier DoFo wants to remove at Ontario Place for a ridiculous spa is a good start.)

6. Be more consciously aware of my neighbours and neighbourhood. 

7. Participate in small acts of Tikkun Olam, the restoration of the world, either with my presence or my donations.

8. Be kinder. Kindness costs nothing and means everything.

9. Bubby the hell out of my granddaughters.

10. Find and enable my patience gene.

11. Attend the GUCI camp reunion in August. Camp friends are forever friends.

Happy 2023. Find your joy and make it work for you.