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

A Letter to Molly on Her Second Birthday

My Dearest Molly,

It is unbelievable to me that I am writing the third of these now annual missives. I know that the racing passage of time that I experience is still beyond your two-year-old intellect. You measure your days in terms of how many sleeps are left until a special occasion. I, on the other hand, watch the galloping by of the calendar with a poignancy that, on occasion, leaves me breathless. I want to imprint every single moment that we spend together into a cerebral scrapbook that can be replayed forever on a loop in my aging grey matter.

The pain that I feel in knowing that your second birthday is being celebrated at a distance from everybody except Mom, Dad, and Gus is acute, but then I remember how much your mom loves to make birthdays extraordinarily special and I have no doubt that your celebration will be exactly as it should be. I ache to hug you, dear one. I desperately want to be there to play with you and to read all of your new books together. I wish that we could share in your cake and get messy eating chocolate together. I want to kiss your cheeks and taste the ice cream remnants. But, sadly, that cannot be this year. The best and most loving thing that all of us can do in these difficult times, is to stay away from each other. It runs counter to everything that we want and that we understand about loving families, but it will keep us well and in each other's lives for many more birthdays to come. The thing that gives me great peace is knowing that you will remember very little from these miserable months and that it will be nothing more than a page in the history book for you.

I have marvelled at the independent human you are evolving into. Your parents might argue that you are stubborn but I prefer the term tenacious. You have very definite likes and dislikes and you have no trouble making them known to everybody. I love that even at two and with a still limited vocabulary, you are making yourself heard. Yes, there are moments of temper and yes, there are moments of needed time-outs but you are learning to use your strengths to the greatest of advantages. You can be polite, giving, sharing, and still strong and self-determining. You are learning to advocate for yourself and I love your fierceness.

Your independence has never been more on display than when you are at your childcare program. When you first started, you were the youngest in the class but after a split second of normal toddler hesitancy, you ran in and embraced the entire experience. There are days when you are so excited to be there, that you don't even notice we've left. There is so much in the world that you have yet to experience but you don't yet seem fazed by anything new coming your way. There is so much yet for you to discover and I can't wait to see it unfold.

I know that you won't remember the incredible week we spent together in Florida in February, just you, Zaidy, and me, the three of us beach walking, playgrounding, and swimming in the Miami sun. It seems so very far in the past and yet it was only weeks ago. It was a time when we three developed a routine and bond that was all our own, without Mom and Dad. We became intertwined with each other through meals, bedtime rituals, songs, and Coco. Camp Bubby/Zaidy was an early highlight of this year and now I am concerned that it has faded so deep into our collective recesses because of everything else around us. I want you to remember snuggling to House at Pooh Corner and singing Let it Go loudly with Elsa. I long to return to the boats you so ardently begged to see every day. I want to relive you going down the slide all by yourself with a smile so proud and broad. I love that you now have names for us and I worry that our newly adopted social distancing lifestyle will somehow change this still tenuous reality. If I forever remind you of that special week, even into your thirties, it is because it was so important and special to us. You can yell at me, roll your eyes and say, "Holy crap, Bubby...Again!" And I will wistfully smile disappear into my old lady haze and respond, "Yes, Molly. Again and again and again."

I miss my kids. It has been too long since we were all together as a family. Months. Pesach, which is a family time, is disappearing into the pandemic ether this year. I believe that we Jews often judge the passage of time, not by birthdays or New Years, but rather what has occurred in our lives and families from one Pesach to the next. I look at photos from only a few years back and see beloved family members who are no longer with us. Two seders ago, you were days from being born. This Pesach there are two new wee cousins that we still will not be able to meet in person. The emotions being stirred within me are bordering on painful and are visceral. I can't change the reality of the outside world but I won't deny my sadness at not being able to watch you wrinkle your nose at the taste of the maror or of missing the excitement that you will absolutely feel searching for and finding, the afikomen. The logical part of me is saying it has to be this way, but the emotional part of me is mourning this loss. No amount of Zoom time or online gathering can replace what is now forever forfeited and gone. I don't want to belabour this deprivation too much but I believe that we should at least, acknowledge it. Hopefully, next Pesach will bring us that family time that we all so desperately need.

There is so much good coming your way, my Molly. So many new things to learn, so many exciting things to experience. You can already count to ten and can recite most of the alphabet. Reading and storytelling is your passion and there are not enough words to convey my joy at this. You love to laugh and you love to sing, although the lyrics aren't really your strong suit...yet. You love to dance to the Wiggles and giggle with Gus. You are busy and in constant motion and watching or participating in your energy can be dizzying and exciting. This coming year will bring changes, as always, but hopefully only positive things and new passions. I want to cook with you, bake cookies with you, watch you grow into new activities, and learning opportunities. I want to teach you about Broadway and baseball and maybe even a few guitar chords.

I love you beyond the words and confines of this letter.

To the moon and back, my dear one.

Happy Birthday. As you have said many times over the last few weeks, you are indeed two and that is everything.

Love,

Bubby

Musings From Isolation-Day 4

Day 4

I miss my kids.

I know that many of you who live great distances from family can understand my longing. Facetime is a nice compromise but nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing can replace a hug. We haven't seen Older Son in person since November and it's been over a month for Younger Son, His Beshert, and the Grandbaby. 

I miss my kids.

Molly is just starting to become a real character who, not only knows us but asks for us by name. To not be able to visit with and hug the stuffing out of that little human right now is excruciatingly difficult.

Especially now.

Now when we need human contact more than ever, we are told to be distant. Now when we need to hug each other so hard it feels like we might suffocate, we are told to stay away. It is almost unbearable to think that the best and safest thing we parents and grandparents can do for our families right now is to stay away from them, to not touch them, to not offer in-person help and comfort. 

But...stay away we will, for their sake as well as ours. For their health as well as ours. For their futures and our continued presence in each other's lives. We will stay at home. 

But...

I miss my kids.

A few random thoughts.

My hair is longer right now than it has been at any time since the 1970s. I have been mostly tying it up but I feel that I am far too old to be wearing a ponytail. I may end up looking like a Sonny-era Cher by the time this is all over.

I have been restricting most sugar and carbs for almost a year but I unabashedly dove into an unopened bag of black licorice last night. As that wonderful philosopher John Prine once said, "Father forgive us for what we must do." By the way...it was delicious and so needed. Everybody give yourself a break on food right now. Eat mostly healthy, but a little chocolate couldn't hurt.

A bit of anger welled up in me today when I saw that EB Games here in Toronto is opening several of their stores in order to release a new video game. Really??? What the actual fuck? Young gamers are lined up by the hundreds to get games that they pre-ordered. You'd think this company could have found an alternate method of delivery? Hey, young bros. STAY THE FUCK HOME! It's a fucking game, not the cure for COVID-19!  I'm hoping that the city ends this nonsense and soon.

Today's music break is me, long hair and all. Don't feel obligated to listen. I recorded this for Molly. It is our bedtime song. It isn't the best I've ever played or sounded but it matters a lot to me.


Wash your hands, don't touch your face, be kind, stay healthy.

Shabbat Shalom for all who observe.