Talia at 5

Dearest Talia,

Half a decade! The BIG FIVE! The toddler is gone, and we welcome the young lady. 

I can't help but think of that night five years ago. In the wee small hours of the morning, Zaidy and I raced up to Newmarket to stay with Molly, because you were on the way. Quickly. It was the middle of the COVID pandemic, and the world was very different from what it is today. There was a lot of staying home, very little socializing, masking, and I must say, there weren't a whole lot of really fun things to do. Your arrival certainly brought sunshine and rainbows into an otherwise dismal time.

It's amazing how we all have COVID stories. Every person I know can recount and regale with some tale of that time. Some are tragic. Some are beautiful. Some are hysterical. When it's my turn to prattle on, I tend to remember that day in early August. I couldn't wait to "Bubby" you into submission; smother you with kisses and joyous tickles. I wanted desperately to bond with you immediately, the way I had with Molly. Alas, the pandemic had other plans. 

Being a COVID baby meant far more isolation. It meant initially you were shy, and everyone around you was more concerned about contagion. Care meant separation, and separation meant distance. That all changed just after your first birthday.

We decided that in the immediate aftermath of lockdowns, we would head to Disney World as a family. It was an awesome trip, even if you were a bit too young to fully enjoy the experience. There were rides, ice cream, tons of junk food, and Mickey. But for me, it meant finally spending some alone time with you. While others were riding Space Mountain, we giggled. While others went to spend money, we bonded. While others went hunting for characters, we shared contraband food that wasn't really on a one-year-old's meal plan. It was one of the best trips ever, despite Mickey infecting us all with COVID. Vaccinations are a modern miracle. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

And now, Talia, you and I have a bond that can never be broken. I love who you are and who you are becoming. You are mischievous, a bit goofy, and you possess a hidden intelligence you refuse to put on display. You perform on your own terms. I love that strength. Some people go their whole lives without learning how to say no. You've kind of mastered it. You enjoy a myriad of activities, and while you are still figuring out what really floats your boat, you are willing to try new things. You spent a week at Camp George this summer, and you basically owned the place. You've dubbed yourself "Queen of Camp George" and have spent the ensuing weeks strutting around in a tiara. That takes a self-confidence most of us don't possess. Talia, live your life wearing that tiara with self-assurance and never care what anyone else thinks about it. 

You and I share something else. We are going through life as part of the vertically challenged. Did I ever tell you that I spent the first four years of my life at school being called "Little Dawn"? There was another Dawn in my class, so she was "Big Dawn," and I was "Little Dawn." How moronic is that? I still can't believe teachers allowed such garbage to fester. I know what it feels like to not be able to see the parade. I intuitively understood the devastation you felt when you couldn't reach into the rays' tank at the aquarium to pet them. We are short, and unfortunately the world can be unfriendly to us. But here's the thing. "Little Dawn" became the girl with the BIG voice. I have no doubt that your talent and intellect will shine. And someday, I promise, you will be able to pet those rays at the aquarium. (I still can't see the parade unless I push my way to the front. Keep pushing, Talia.)

Of all the things that I love about you, the one that I simply cannot figure out where it came from is your obsession with cats. You have always loved animals, even photographs of them, but you weren't all that thrilled when Mando came on the scene. A puppy wasn't really in your wheelhouse. He is now a loyal and true friend, but I get that he seemed big and boisterous to you a few years ago. Mom told me that you started loving cats because of a TV show, but we are well past that now. I know you would love to have a kitten, and Zaidy did consider it as a birthday gift this year, but Daddy threatened us with annihilation if we even dared. This feline craze is real. Everything has to have cats on it. Toys, blankets, face paint. If it isn't a cat, it isn't worth your time. Even your zodiac sign is Leo the Lion, the biggest kitty in the universe. Coincidence? I think not.

After giving it some thought, I have decided that you are very much like a cat. Cats are curious. They are always investigating, asking questions, and peeking into corners. Cats are independent. You always want to do things by yourself and without help. Cats are playful. You always turn the simplest game into an adventure. Cats are mischievous. Just like you, they are looking for just enough trouble to make people laugh. Cats are observant. You always see the details that many of us miss. Cats are loyal. You form deep bonds with the people you love. Cats seek out comfort. You love to snuggle with a cozy blanket, or cuddle up with me. Cats know what they want. You are never shy about letting everyone know what you want. Cats are remarkably wise. You are constantly surprising me with your insightful comments. Finally, cats take joy in being themselves. Talia, I honestly can't come up with a better description of you than that. 

I am decidedly not a cat person, but I am a Talia person, and I love the person Talia is becoming. I will love a cat if you do. I sort of promise. Until then, I will spend my time in adoration of you.

Happy 5th Birthday, my darling girl. May it be lovely, warm, fun, and feline. 

I love you to the constellation of Leo and beyond.

Love, 

Bubby

P.S. Here is a fun and short video of one of my favourite songs about cats. 

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

A Letter To Talia On Her First Birthday

Dearest Talia,

I have started and erased this letter so many times now. I have committed to writing to you and your sister on birthdays, and I have been successful. I haven't missed one yet. But, for some reason, this year has felt different, and the writing hasn't come with ease. Perhaps it is because the world around us feels very broken, and I want these letters to have a modicum of hope. The generations in front of you have certainly messed things up with great flair, but I need to believe that there is a phoenix in the embers of our collective pyre that will rise with you and the promise you hold.

I think there is another reason that writing this year's letter has been far more arduous. Milestone birthdays can be really joyous, as is this your first. This past year has been filled with touchstones for you; your first smile, your first giggle, your first strawberry, your first babble. Each one is a barometer of your growth and a measure of the person you are becoming. I simply melt while watching the gleam you get in those big blue eyes when Molly comes to play with you. I love watching your curiosity spark while trying to figure out a new toy. I adore that you growl like a baby raptor when you are "hangry."  I am amazed at how you eat anything and everything, and you never seem to be sated. Seriously. Where does it all go? So much food in such a tiny human. Milestones. Each and every one of these deserves commemoration. There are so many more to come, and I can't wait to cheer them all. Turning one is a tremendous milestone. May it be the first of many. 

But, milestones can also be a time of reflection and contemplation. As it happens, I, too, am celebrating a milestone birthday this year. Last week, I had a conversation with someone dear to me. This person was incredulous at the idea that turning sixty might bother me. I explained that while I am not upset at the thought of getting older, this particular birthday feels different to me than previous "big ones." It somehow seems more ominous and finite. Now, don't misunderstand. My health is good, and I am not complaining, except for the various minor aches and pains that seem to be on permanent rotation through my body. I am forever looking in a mirror and seeing new lines and creases that didn't seem to exist yesterday. And while these don't perturb me all that much, they are a tangible sign of aging. Aging for a one-year-old is the excitement of impending first steps. Aging for a sixty-year-old is the realization that changes can be ominous. I'm taking a few more medications and sleeping far fewer hours. I have parents who require more assistance and children who need less. 

But, if the pandemic and its inherent isolation have taught me anything, it is that we should celebrate whenever we get the chance. So, I look forward to turning sixty with a bit of trepidation and a whole lot of excitement. I will never forget that I've been blessed with the presence of both of my parents well into their golden years and that they, in turn, have been blessed to know their great-grandchildren. I have a partner who adores me, and even though you might have suspicions about him, your Zaidy is the best. My sons are good men, and they love their families. Positive male role models are at a premium these days. Your daddy, your uncles, and your grandfathers are genuinely five-star. Look to them when men confuse you. Your mommy has become my daughter in all ways. She will be your rock, and, if you allow her, your confidant. Finally, your sister reminded me that teaching and bequeathing are sacred responsibilities. She is blazing the trail for you. She is your best friend and your best teacher. The two of you are my everything. My milestone birthday may be a bit more daunting than yours, but I never lose sight that I am grateful to be celebrating it. So, cupcakes for everybody.

Talia, you have much learning and growing to do. I am so excited to watch you unfold. Your name comes from Hebrew, which means "dew from heaven," and that is precisely what you are. You have been a bit of "mayim chayim," water of life, to all of us this year. While the world around you has been a bit chaotic, you have been the calming influence. You observe before you react. You study and then decide. You speak with authority even though you are speaking your own language. You are gradually finding your place in this crazy family. I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't be at the back of the line. 

Happy First Birthday, נכדתי היקרה, mi nieta, my darling granddaughter. You are a milestone. May the coming year bring you health, joy, excitement, wonder, and peace. Learn, grow, be strong, be wise, and be happy. I love you with all of my being.

Love,

Bubby

My First Letter to Talia

My dearest Talia,

I started writing these letters shortly after Molly was born. I wanted to record my feelings of joy, excitement, pain, sorrow, trepidation, and mostly the immense pride that I felt watching my grandchild make her way into the world. The letters evolved into birthday missives that I plan on continuing for as long as I am able. I realized that as much as I was writing these for her, I was also writing them for me. I wanted her to have a tangible record of what her grandmother was feeling, hoping, and praying for during a specific moment in time that coincided with her growing up. You can call it my slightly self-centred gift to my granddaughter. It is really easy to get caught up and bogged down in the little things that happen every day. I wanted to zoom out a bit and focus on the big picture of what I feel is important and how that might impact the lives of my children and grandchildren.

Talia, it is now your turn to receive your very first letter from Bubby on your one-week birthday. I will admit that I wasn't quite ready to write this post. I thought that I'd have a few more weeks. You were obviously very anxious to make your world debut. The rapidity and punctuality with which you made your entrance made me hopeful for the future. Sometimes, just showing up on time is half the battle with much of what we have to deal with in our lives. We show others how much we care about them, their time, their efforts, and their experiences when we are prompt. It is a sign of great respect to be timely. You taught us all a great lesson this week. We have been living in an era where the passage of time seems to have lost its relevance. You reminded me that it still matters.

We are living in the most uncertain period of my lifetime. You are being born into a world that is currently being ravaged by disease, a climate apocalypse, and an acute lack of intellectualism. There is simply no communal trust in expertise anymore. Everybody is an authority on everything. A logical and unheated conversation about practically anything is almost impossible these days. We have untethered ourselves as a world community from a central and agreeable set of facts. We have spent the past eighteen months bathing in our own emotional wastelands and have forgotten how to interact with one another outside of a few meaningless posts on social media. Everybody is exhausted and so many are angry. It would be easy to just give up and pretend that nihilism rules. But, I refuse to do that. I will go down swinging working for and in defense of a productive and healthy future for you. You and your sister matter so much to me that the idea of conceding defeat to a bunch of intellectually corrupted twatwaffles is anathema. Education matters. Integrity matters. A strong moral code matters. Science matters. Collective responsibility matters. Family matters. The world is very messed up right now but when I look at you, I see hope. I think about what you can accomplish. You have the potential to see and create the next century. As long as I have the ability, I will move heaven and earth to defeat those forces that want to make that path difficult for you to traverse. There will always be people who want to delay and obstruct progress. There will always be people that care more for their own power and bank accounts than they do for society at large. I look at you and I offer you a solemn vow that I will do what I can to move these people out of the way so that you and your generation can fulfill the promise of better days. I swear that I will make you proud.

The name you carry is one of strength. I wish you could have known your great-grandmother Temmy. We lost her less than a year ago and I know that she would have loved you with all of her heart. She was proud, stubborn to a fault, difficult at times, and one of the strongest women I have ever met. She didn't have an easy life. Her physical challenges and her emotional baggage could be exhausting at times but she never ever gave up. She was a fighter until the very end. She desperately loved her family and she supported all of our decisions unfailingly, even if she didn't agree with them. This past year has been very difficult on your Zaidy. Losing her in the middle of the pandemic without a proper ability to grieve has been unbelievably miserable. You are her direct legacy. Always wear your name with pride and know that the person from whom it comes was a true Eyshet Chail, a woman of immense valour. 

I need you to know that your parents are two of the finest people I know. I realize that I speak from a place of extreme bias but I'm pretty sure that many others would agree with me. They care so much about so many and are doing whatever they can to make your's and your sister's lives easy, comfortable, and safe. I wanted to give them this shout-out because I am not certain as to when you might read this and I know that there will be times ahead when you will vehemently disagree, argue, and test their limits. You need to know that they love you unconditionally and that they will never stop communicating with you even if they are angry. It is the first rule of family. Never stop talking even when they make you crazy. And if you ever just need someone else to listen to you or a shoulder to cry on in times of difficulty, you can know with certainty that I will be that person. I can't promise that I will always agree with you but I will always hear you out. Beware. I am an opinionated bitch but we tough women need to stick together.

You have the great good fortune of having a ready-made best friend here waiting for you. Molly is so excited that you've finally arrived. She has broken in your parents for you and has made these initial days and months a bit easier by equipping them with the needed parenting skills. If you two play your cards right, she will be your playmate, confidant, co-conspirator, comrade-in-arms, and a sidekick for the rest of your lives. A sibling is the person who knows you from childhood through adolescence to adulthood. They are the ones who know you best throughout your entire life. No parent, friend, or spouse can ever know you as intimately or deeply as a sibling. Be there for her and she will reciprocate in kind.

Here are a few early lessons that are moral imperatives. 

1. Never dismiss any kind of music without thoroughly listening to it. That said, autotuning is for the lazy musician.

2. Always dance like you don't care who is watching.

3. Eat for fun and nutrition. One without the other really sucks.

4. Be comfortable in your clothing. 

5. Treat the earth with care.

6. Be a rule follower and a rule breaker and understand the difference. 

7. Love animals.

8. Add colour to everything.

These first few months and years will be exciting. We will discover all that you are and will learn about who you are meant to become. I will attempt to curb my judgemental tendencies and give you the space you need to grow and develop organically. You are blessed with terrific role models. Ask them for advice, watch what they do, and then formulate your own decisions. Mistakes are ok. Just remember to be empathetic, sympathetic, attentive, curious, and just stubborn enough, but with the ability to admit fault when needed. I have never felt such peace as when I looked upon your face for the first time. For the first time in almost two years, I have hope again. I won't ever take that for granted.

In Judaism, we believe in L'dor Vador, that in every generation we must teach our children and carry on our heritage and faith. Never be ashamed of who you are. We are a resilient people.

I love you to the moon and back, Talia. May this first year bring us only good things. 

Kein y'hi ratzon. May this be God's will.

Love, 

Bubby