Susan's Musings

Ice Cream Social(ism)

There we were in a Tom Thumb supermarket in Dallas, the city we were visiting last week. My husband was speaking at a number of venues, and we stopped at the supermarket, which has an expanded kosher section, to pick up a few things. 

The weather was hot; it was over 100°. In my view, that is perfect ice cream weather. Now, my diet plan (admittedly, not a very thorough one, though it serves double duty as a budget plan) decrees that I only buy ice cream when it is on sale. Fortunately, there was an amazing sale on a kosher brand with a scrumptious sounding flavor. We (I) scooped it up and made our way to the checkout where we were informed that we needed a supermarket card to get the special sale price. 

We do not live in Dallas. The supermarket chain does not exist where we do live. We did not want to stand at a customer service desk to get a card. The store, for a reason that eludes us, doesn’t allow the checker to swipe his own store card. I don’t pay full price for ice cream. Stalemate. 

That is, until the checker turned to the woman behind us in line and asked if we could use her card. She immediately said yes and told us that she had been in exactly the same situation while visiting her daughter in S. Carolina. The problem was solved and the ice cream was delicious. 

That should be the end of the story, but it got me thinking. That kind woman’s willingness to share her card would not necessarily be a universal response. A number of years back, researchers dropped wallets in shopping malls around the country. In some cities, almost all the wallets were turned in to mall security,  in others almost none were. There are places in the world, and I daresay places in the United States, where people are trained to be wary of strangers. Instead of helping each other, the first reaction is, “Why is this person talking to me?” or “What are they trying to put over on me?” Unfortunately, there are enough rogues out there who seek to repay friendliness with theft, and as they increase, human interaction suffers. In addition to that, in socialist societies, a direction in which we are sadly moving, citizens are encouraged to betray one another even as the ruling class mouths platitudes of compassion and comradeship. 

A few months back, I was shopping at Costco. I love Costco and have been a fan ever since I discovered it over twenty years ago in Seattle. Leaving my Issaquah and Kirkland Costco stores was one of the prices of moving to the east coast. I quickly found that my new Costco wasn’t quite the same. Not only did I no longer enjoy stunning views of Mt. Ranier and Lake Washington during my drive, but the shelves weren’t stocked as well and the employees weren’t as cheerful and solicitous. Still, what was on the shelf was familiar, trusted, and well-priced. 

Nonetheless, I was completely taken aback at my last visit. On a previous trip, I had purchased frozen peas. A few weeks later, I received numerous phone calls and letters telling me to please discard the (huge) bag as there was a health concern. I threw out the peas, and when I returned to Costco a month or so later, I put a replacement bag of peas in my cart. I told the checker that this was a replacement at which point he leered at me and sneered, “Right, yeah, you threw out a bag like this.” I have to admit that I was breathless at his insulting assumption that I was lying.

Now, Costco could have sent a certificate for a replacement bag in the letter informing me of the problem. But paying for a new bag wasn’t the point. The interaction drove home to me that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore (technically, Kirkland, WA where the company is based) and what I had perceived as the ‘Costco spirit’ didn’t travel to another location. Not surprisingly, I have pared back my membership and only sparingly shop there now in contrast to the Washington locations which served as pleasurable as well as utilitarian outings. 

The two shopping experiences reminded me that much of what we take for granted, that makes everyday life enjoyable, rests on shaky foundations. Common courtesy can easily become a rare commodity and smiles can quickly transform into surliness. As more of us spend increasing amounts of time with technology rather than interacting with our fellow humans; feel betrayed by the government that is supposed to serve us; and obsess on our rights rather than our responsibilities, we take yet another step along a path leading to a less pleasant future. 

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Small Big Business - the American Way

Americans seem to have a strange relationship with business. We extol Mom and Pop stores, love stories of individuals who have an idea and turn it into a reality and treasure the idea of entrepreneurship. However, when an enterprise gets too successful, we decry it as we patronize it. 

Starbucks is successful because people get coffee there. People may ‘tsk, tsk’ when a local coffee shop closes but they appreciate features of Starbucks that are only available in a large business. We like Wal-Mart prices and variety even as we feel bad when the family owned general store goes out of business. We feel warmly about our local bookstore, but we still buy books online from Amazon.  

At one point McDonalds and Wal-Mart, along with most other behemoths were small businesses. It is rather hypocritical for us to stop rooting for them (even as we patronize them) simply because they became super successful. 

Large businesses that manage to retain a small business feel help us to overcome this dichotomy. Here is a personal story that reflects this:

My husband and I do a fair amount of shipping for our ministry, but a few weeks ago we had a large and heavy personal package that we needed to send cross-country. We took it into our local FedEx store and off it went with ground shipping, meant to arrive in Seattle in ample time for our summer boating trip. Foolishly, we did not insure the case, relying instead on numerous positive experiences with FedEx. The package contained a number of replaceable items, but others were low-cost and irreplaceable such as a pair of worn-in shoes. More importantly, the case included a fair amount of marine electronics to ensure our safety, communication and comfort while boating. These could theoretically be replaced, but not in time for our trip.

We were able to track the package for a few days, as usual, when it suddenly disappeared from the tracking screen. Pressed for time, we didn’t immediately follow up (if you’re counting, this was mistake number two).

After flying across the country to Seattle, we set about shopping for kosher food that would be difficult to find in small British Columbian anchorages. As we crossed the Evergreen Floating Bridge, my husband’s cell phone rang. Calling was a stranger from Oregon who had ordered a rather small item from a store, and was confused when it arrived encased in a huge box. Inside the box was not only his item, but our package as well. Fortunately, our name and number were visible.

A call to FedEx revealed befuddlement on their end with promises to pick up the box and get it moving. The next morning, when we checked again, we found to our consternation that not only hadn’t the package been picked up but there was no plan for that to happen. It seems our knight in shining armor lived in a small town, distant from any FedEx center and they didn’t see getting to him for a few days. By that time, of course, we would be aboard without necessary equipment or the ability to predict where we could reliably receive a shipment. 

To say that we were annoyed is an understatement. We worked our way up the company’s phone chain ladder. Finally, they transferred us to the manager of the Salem, OR transit center. She promptly told us that she had no idea why they told us to contact her as she did not have the authority to order a pick-up or, what at this point needed to be, an overnighting of our case. We began to worry that the easiest thing for FedEx to do would be to send us $100 (the standard reimbursement for uninsured packages) and wash their hands of the problem. We seemed to be the victim of depersonalized corporate America, lost in a labyrinth whose goal was to make us throw up our hands in despair.

Except, at this point, one individual’s personal responsibility combined with the resources available to a behemoth company and set everything right. Instead of hanging up on us, the manager not only empathized with us, but she was embarrassed for the company she represents. “You are getting a run-around,” she told us, “this is not how we are supposed to treat our customers.”  Accepting our dilemma as a personal affront to her honor, she guaranteed us that we would have our package where we needed it, when we needed it. And we did.

A small business wouldn’t have had the resources to so quickly fix their mistake; the large business could only do so because one individual chose to step above the rules and regulations. Between this manager’s actions and the kindness of our small-town patron who didn’t simply shrug his shoulders and discard our case, an irritating, inconvenient and potentially expensive mishap instead rekindled our faith in Americans and free enterprise. 

Rays of Hope

Last week, when I was feeling overwhelmed by the mendacity, chicanery and overall incompetence of politicians and the press, I gave myself a challenge. The next Musing, the one I am writing now, will sound positive. 

It would be easy to write of family, friends, health, the comforts of living in America in the 21st century or hundreds of other blessings that effortlessly spring to mind. All of these are crucially important and much appreciated,  but as a Musing to contrast with last week’s, this would be a cop-out. I decided that I needed to find rays of hope on a national level. Here are some of the things I found:

• There are lots of great resources out there for getting a real education. I have just started listening to a Hillsdale College course on the Constitution. If I have only finished the first class in the series over a period of two months, that’s only due to my deficiencies. But the material is available. Of course I got an email asking for a contribution to the college. That is perfectly just and I should send something in for the value they are making available. (Are you a conservative paying to send your child to a liberal, anti-God university? Make next year’s tuition payments contingent on their watching these videos with you over the summer.)
• Look at the crowds at any pro-life event. There are young, attractive and articulate men and women who are leading the charge.
• There are still good people out there who are willing to get involved and try to make a difference through the political system. My friend Ruth works tirelessly to stay involved in local politics and keeps the rest of us informed. 
• In the same vein, there are people running for office despite the financial and emotional toll on their lives, simply because they want to do the right thing. These people actually do have full lives, both personally and professionally but they are truly stepping up in the spirit of public service. (Reminder to me: send a contribution to Dr. Mark Plaster’s campaign for Congress.)
• There are many fantastic young people out there who are working hard and living moral, upright lives. They are too busy to go out in the middle of the day to join destructive rallies (not that they’d be drawn to them anyway) so the press ignores them. But they do exist and are productive beacons of light in the world.
• Many of these same young people also give time and energy to volunteer work. Even those whose volunteer work might be for causes with which I disagree, nonetheless represent a spirit of giving that is a reason for optimism.
• Despite the media and cultural focus on all the negative, in my daily interactions whether in stores, on the street or while traveling, I overwhelmingly see people smiling at and graciously helping other people of all sizes, shapes and appearances. I read about road rage and misbehavior on airplanes; I see proper behavior and kindness all around me. 

Wow! When I started this Musing I thought it would only be fair to have seven positive bullet points since I had seven negative ones last week. I hesitated to declare my goal at the top because I wasn’t sure I’d make it. Yet once I started, I found the ideas coming easily. I hope they uplift you as they do me. 

SALE ENDING this Sunday on Hands Off! This Must Be Love.
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The Torn Shirt

I just put my white shirt in the washing machine, a reasonable place for something I wore daily for a week. The shirt has an eight-inch tear down its front. I tore it, in accordance with Jewish tradition, at the cemetery as we were getting ready to bury my father, and wore it for the week of mourning.

I’m not quite sure why I’m laundering it. Even if my sewing skills were greater than they are, I would not be planning to mend the shirt. I realize that simply discarding a piece of clothing, as I will do, is not an option that always existed. In days when each article of dress was acquired by diligently saving money, where three or four pieces of clothing were all anyone owned, the torn shirt of mourning was mended, pressed and put back into service. It served as a constant, visible reminder of how we piece lives back together after a loss, never quite the same as before but carrying on. 

When my mother died sixteen years ago (that number shocks me as she is so present in my heart) I mourned, deeply, for her. I still miss her wisdom, laughter and love. The youngest of her family, she was the first of her five siblings to go. I found great comfort and security in talking to her sister and brothers as the years passed.  This time around, my father was one of the last remaining members of his generation. Each year, there are fewer people to answer the questions raised by old photographs and memories, on both a personal and national level. They were people who would neither be ignorant nor confused or scornful about this week’s observation of Flag Day. With or without the visible reminder of a shirt, the reality of the loss of a generation is clearly evident. 

 

Our Lose/Lose Society

We’re all familiar with the concept of win/win. I buy a dress that fits my needs in exchange for money that fits the needs of the storeowner. Mike washes the supper dishes and Tali dries them so that they can both get outside and play before it gets dark.

Our society is steadily creeping towards basing itself on a lose/lose philosophy. The sad incident at the Cincinnati Zoo is just one example. Here are the bare facts: a three-year-old toddler entered the moat surrounding the gorilla enclosure and was dragged through the water by a gorilla. 

What if the zoo had not shot the animal? The child might have been rescued safely or might have been harmed. There certainly was a threat of greater damage. How much time do you think would have passed before Black LIves Matter activists began questioning whether the zoo might have acted more quickly and shot the gorilla had the child been white? How long before President Obama picked up the opportunity to agitate for hatred between Americans, a specialty of his, by suggesting that racist America revealed itself once again? How long before someone posted a despicable, stupid comment under the article on a news website making a comparison between the Black child and the gorilla? How long until a daring reporter found out that the bigoted comment-writer once walked on a New York City street that Donald Trump frequently strode, proving that all Trump supporters are Ku Klux Klan wanna-bees? 

I give that scenario two days to play out. 

Meanwhile, the twitter-sphere is out for blood. Someone has to pay! The zoo, the parents, the owner of the trucking company that transported the gorilla to the zoo—surely someone has to suffer because of the deeply sad occurrence. 

Perhaps not. Maybe zoos and other public areas can reassess their safety features and make some changes after being emotionally shaken by this incident. Maybe all parents will be reminded of the speed with which a child can get into trouble. They can hug their children a bit tighter and commit to greater care while at the same time being reminded that as humans they cannot guarantee their children’s safety. Maybe the parents of the toddler who fell into the moat will feel a greater responsibility to raise their children to be givers to their community and country so that their presence is a blessing to the world. Maybe those who believe like PETA that an animal’s life is worth more than a human one will question deep inside themselves whether they truly would have rather seen the gorilla alive and the child dead. Maybe we can, as a society, accept that tragedies can occur without needing to demonize a scapegoat. 

Obviously, if the scenario had played out on a movie screen, a different script could have been written. Instead, it was real life. Everyone on the spot did the best they could within the limitations of human frailty, time and place. That is called reality. The gorilla lost its life, the zoo lost its gorilla and its reputation, the parents lost equanimity and anonymity. As a society we have become less comfortable saying, “There but for the grace of God, go I,” and quicker to condemn and vilify. At what point do we say that there was enough loss and simply accept that bad things sometimes just do happen?

 

I was sent the following video by a friend and found it surprising and shocking. Especially when our cell phones constantly seduce us to look at them instead of around us, I urge you to take the time and see this before heading to the water with kids (or adults).

 

And...while you’re packing summer reading for when the kids are out of the water, don’t forget our 3 Thought Tool books. Light enough for summer; deep enough for growth. 

Available in a money-saving set or separately

 

 

Smelly Neighbors

My husband and I are having a problem with our neighbors. They don’t seem to be taking enough baths or showers.  You can see how this would make living near them uncomfortable. We’re not even sure that they are washing their dishes or doing laundry.

How do we know this? Each month we get a bill from our public water utility informing us that we are using more water than our neighbors. Some months this certainly could be possible—but when we have been away for three weeks out of the month,  that information is rather troubling. 

Of course, there is an alternative to unhygienic neighbors. Maybe, this entire enterprise is bogus and simply trying to turn neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend. My husband’s response whenever we get one of these notices is to turn on the tap. That might be his inner ten-year-old coming to the surface, but perhaps it isn’t. Maybe it is simply his revulsion for and rejection of our increasingly socialistic society’s attempt to sever links between citizens. He loathes attempts to make us compete with one another to win approval from the government and government approved entities.  

When doctors request that parents leave the room and then ask children if their parents have guns in the house or teachers tell students that their parents’ beliefs are bigoted, we are in a dangerous place. When signs encourage us to turn in fellow drivers wrongly using the carpool lane and politicians stir up envy between citizens based on gender, color and income, our society suffers. The pace at which all this poison is being promoted is rapidly increasing. It is past time to stiffen our backbones —and rebel in ways more effective than leaving our faucets running.

 

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Cleaning and Loving It

I have a friend who gets little pleasure from cooking. It is a reality of life for her rather than a tactile, sensual experience. That is, unless she is cooking for the Sabbath. When she does that, the activity is infused with meaning and importance and changes from an annoying necessity into a higher calling. 

I feel somewhat the same about cleaning. While I like having a tidy and well-ordered house, I can’t say that I enjoy the process of scrubbing and polishing. The exception is when I am cleaning in preparation for Passover. 

I don’t really have a way to explain Passover preparations to anyone who has not been involved in them. Picture getting ready for Thanksgiving except before you can start your cooking you need to get rid of all the existing food you have in the house as well as put away all your dishes and kitchen utensils, and bring in all “special for Thanksgiving” items that are only used once a year. There are lists of ingredients and products that you ordinarily rely on that can’t be used. Plus, the house needs to be cleaned from top to bottom to ensure that no forbidden items are hiding away. That’s for starters. Oh yes, and there will be eight days of eating rather than one, with five of them requiring festive meals twice a day.

Passover is daunting. It is also my favorite holiday of the year. And while we have occasionally spent the holiday at the home of friends or family and sometimes even at a hotel, I only truly fully feel the holiday spirit when we are home. On all the holidays, recipes and traditions connect me strongly to my mother, grandmother and all the women in my family who preceded them, but the connection is magnified with Passover. 

My husband does not understand. His mantra over these weeks is, “You really don’t have to do that,” meaning that we can have a kosher Passover without my going over the light switches with a toothbrush and toothpick. He does not have, as I do, the vision of my grandmother in her eighties, wearing her one and only pair of jeans, purchased and used for only one occasion in the entire year – getting down on the floor to scrub under the cupboards before Passover. I can’t explain it myself. I only know that, in my mind, while cleaning is usually a chore that interferes with “more important things,” during the weeks preceding Passover it gives me a great thrill. Not only am I cleaning for a higher purpose, but the activity itself has meaning. 

And quite frankly, I am pretty uninterested in what the rabbis (even my own beloved one) say as to what is unnecessary. My question to them always is, “But, what did your mother do?” Invariably, the answer is that they went way overboard. Passover belongs to the Jewish people, but Passover cleaning belongs to Jewish women. 

Reprinted from March 2009

Would you like to look more deeply into Passover?
What if it can serve as a personal template for redemption as well as a national one? 

Let Me Go: How to Overcome Life's Challenges and Escape Your Own Egypt

A Few Pictures

Thank you for your prayers, blessings and good wishes. I am remembering what nighttime feedings are like, but more importantly, I'm remembering newborn deliciousness. I hope to be back writing Musings next week. In the meantime, here are a few pictures of our latest blessing. 

Also, please enjoy a special price on our Ancient Jewish Wisdom TV Show set. If I can't 'visit' by writing, we can still spend some time together. 

 

No Skill Needed

A year ago, I converted to Mac. Even the language of ‘converting’ implies that this type of change involves more angst than switching detergents. Over the course of learning to use my new computer, I spent a fair bit of time at the Apple store as well as exchanging numerous phone calls with Apple support. I must give a shout out to the help at both venues–what a pleasure! During one of my orientations, an enthusiastic employee shared her excitement with the GarageBand app. I assumed that I could ignore this information. Chances of my wanting to record music seemed to be only slightly higher than my suddenly deciding to take up extreme sports.

What did I know? Fast forward to this past Fall, when I met Sarah Mazor in Jerusalem. Sarah had contacted our office, asking if we had ever thought of publishing children’s books and offering to show us some of the ones she authored. Sarah’s letter intrigued my right-hand woman, Crystol, and she  forwarded it to me. It languished in my email pile until, months later, I clicked on the link to one of Sarah’s books and noticed that she knew Hebrew. I contacted Sarah, telling her that we published for adults, but I wanted to speak to her and would be in touch when I was back in the States, as my husband and I were spending the month of holidays in Jerusalem.

 “I’m going to Jerusalem for the holidays too,” she wrote. 

“Maybe we can meet for a quick cup of coffee,” I responded, telling her the neighborhood where we would be. 

“I’m staying right near there,” Sarah replied, and agreed to be in touch once we were both overseas. 

Our ‘quick cup of coffee’ turned into a three hour chat as Sarah’s story captivated me. My husband and I told her the type of book that we thought would benefit our audience and by the end of the morning we signed Sarah on to write our first children’s book. 

I knew that I wanted to share Sarah’s story with you and the amazing surprise we had when we met. Instead of writing it down in a Musing, I thought it would be fun to record an interview with her, which we proceeded to do. Alas, when I listened to the interview, it was unusable. Perhaps I was holding the microphone too far from Sarah or maybe her voice is much quieter than mine, but you could barely hear her. Combine that with the times each of us wanted a “do-over” and said the same idea twice, along with a fair bit of “ums” and pauses, and the interview was long, disjointed and unusable. 

Enter memories of GarageBand and its ability to edit and enhance audio.  A number of video tutorials later as well as an amazingly helpful assistant at the Apple store and I had two interviews ready to upload. They’re not perfect and occasionally I cut off part of a word, but I am pretty impressed with myself. In fact, I’m looking forward to having more audio to play with and trying to add intro music this time. Having gone way out of my comfort zone to learn a new technology, I am once again amazed at what power we have at our fingertips today.

If you’d like to hear the interviews (no coercion!) here are the links:

First interview

Second interview

I hope you enjoy meeting Sarah as much as I did. 

Share the result of our collaboration with a child in your life

 

 

 

Zipper Fashion

 

This past weekend, my husband and I had the pleasure of hosting long-time friends who came to our neighborhood to meet the parents of their soon-to-be daughter-in-law. Sharon and I have been friends since first grade, while my husband and David’s close relationship goes back to 1978. The sensitive among you will refrain from examining the math too closely to discover exactly how many years have gone by. Suffice it to say, our conversations range far and wide. 

When we were out walking on Sunday, Sharon and I chatted about needing to buy clothing to adjust to east coast winters.  The topic arose of how zippers on women’s clothing used to be hidden. In fact,  learning how to insert invisible zippers was the bane of sixth grade sewing class. We observed that nowadays zippers feature prominently as integral parts of clothing design. When we concurred that the fashion industry constantly changes, thereby encouraging women to buy new clothing every year, it became clear that the men were listening to our conversation.

“It’s sweet how naive you are,” one of them said while the other nodded his head.  

If you asked me to name four adjectives that describe me, I don’t think that naive would be among my choices. There is much, like profanity, that I choose not to allow into my life, but I’m aware that many things of which I disapprove exist in our society and are rampant. Yet, I had no idea that zippers could present a hidden message that completely eluded me. 

During our friends’ visit, David, who is a passionate  music lover, explained sonata form to us. While my husband and I may enjoy listening to classical music, David ‘gets it’ on an entirely different level. Similarly, he recently shared a video analyzing the artist Vermeer’s masterpieces in a way that completely magnified my appreciation of the painter and his work. Now, it seemed that I also needed him to help me take a deeper look at women’s fashion as well. 

According to the men in our lives, Sharon and I were naive for not recognizing that wide, prominent zippers on women’s clothing send a message to men saying, “Unzip here.” While this may not be meant to be taken literally, subconsciously men’s imaginations are being directed to think of whatever is beneath the impossible-to-miss zip. Certainly, the fashion industry wants women to wear this season’s clothes and tries to make those clothes easily identifiable. That is why different seasons feature different colors, lengths, styles and patterns. I knew that clothes portray an image, whether the sophisticated and feminine look of Kate Middleton or the, masculine look of women’s power suits in the 1980s, and that the styles match the times. Was I completely missing more subtle clues and messages? 

I have long been mystified by the woman who wears a cleavage-revealing top while asserting that she wants to be judged by her mind. The balance between dressing in an attractive vs. seductive manner is one that leads some women to look frumpy while others err in the opposite direction. Yet, if men, who know more about men’s reactions than I do are right, there’s messaging going on that I hadn’t even begun to consider.  Are they right? 

Many other hidden messages are being given all the time. Right now, you can save money while  learning to recognize the messages of socialism disguised as compassion and fairness. Find it all in ancient Jewish wisdom's exploration of nine verses of Genesis.

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