Standing Up

My grandfather was a very integral part of the Queens Bucharian community. My grandparents moved to Queens from Israel 39 years ago, and basically helped set up the community. Everyone knew them. In general, the Bucharian community is very orthodox- extreme right wing, fire-and-brimstone type. My grandparents came from Israel as very traditional people, but not orthodox. After my grandfather's mother died, he was hozer b'teshuva, returned to the faith and got a little caught up in the rhetoric he heard from the pulpit.

It's with this introduction that I tell you the story of my grandfather's funeral. The rabbi who officiated was someone I didn't know, but apparently someone who knew my grandfather well. He began the ceremony speaking in Hebrew, which was Strike Number 1, since many of the people that came from my mom's side to pay their respects were not Hebrew speakers. Someone then recited a few Psalms and then it was time for eulogies. Two very well-known rabbis spoke first- the chief Bucharian rabbi in the US knew my grandfather from when they were still living in Israel, and the rabbi of my grandfather's synagogue spoke of how much my grandfather did to build the community and the synagogues. Then a few other men spoke- one spoke in Bucharian (which is a mix of Farsi and Hebrew) and only a handful of people understood him. Finally a couple of other rabbis spoke in English. Everyone, for the most part, spoke very nicely.

Then came Strike Number 2. The officiating rabbi took to the microphone one more time. He started telling two stories (in Hebrew) of how he got two different people to hozer b'teshuva- got them to return to the faith and lead an orthodox life. This got him to the fire and brimstone part- he began to beseech to everyone in the room to become religious- keep Shabbat, keeper kosher, etc. etc. I turn to my sister and ask her what this has to do with our grandfather? She just shook her head. His little speech went on for about 10 minutes. Once he was finally done, he thanked everyone for coming and gave the address for where the family would be sitting shiva. I looked over and my mom, wondering what was going on- my cousin and I had prepared eulogies and this guy was getting ready to leave! So she told him that there were still two more to go. And then Strike Three went like this:

Rabbi: "Mi od yesh?" ("Who else is there?")
Mom: "shnei nechadim." ("Two grandchildren.")
Rabbi: "ok, mi?" ("Ok, who?")
Mom: "Ronnie v'Elanit." ("Ronnie and Elanit.")
Rabbi: "LO! Nashim lo m'dabrot po!" ("NO! Women do not speak here!")

Then I immediately pipe in:
Me: "Ani m'daberet bishvil ha Sabba sheli!" ("I am speaking for my grandfather!")
Rabbi: "LO!" ("NO!")
Me: "Ken!" ("YES!)
Rabbi: "Az ani holech!" ("Then I am leaving!")
Me: "Az telech!" ("So go!)

And he stormed out.

I asked my cousin to speak first, if only to give myself some time to calm down. I was so taken aback by the entire conversation, my hands were literally shaking. Who was this man to tell me that I couldn't give a eulogy for my grandfather? I know enough Jewish law to know how utterly ridiculous he was, and there was no way I was going to allow him to stand there and tell me what women can and cannot do. Argh!

I can't remember any incident such as this which forced me to explicitly stand up for my rights as a human being. For the most part, I am at peace with the way Modern Orthodox Judaism has adapted along with the changing modern times, and most of the battles associated with a woman's role in Judaism I had to face were internal- if I would cover my hair, wear pants, etc. This was something totally new.

The Rabbi hasn't been seen since; I have no idea if he will actually show up to my grandmother's home to pay his respects, but if he does, I will not be moved to the other side of the room and I will not hide from him nor anyone else who would want to shove me into a corner. (I had half a mind to start my eulogy with the line "Nobody puts Baby in the corner!) I certainly don't believe that's what my Sabba would have wanted.

It's so hard to say goodbye, Part Two

Sabba's funeral was today. And, as expected, there was drama. But I'll keep that story for tomorrow. For now, since I am exhausted beyond belief, I post the eulogy I gave this morning. (Some of it may be repetitious from the previous post.)

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I’ve known for quite some time that I would need to write something for this day. But every time I would sit down to collect my thoughts during the last week, I’d come up empty. Not because there’s nothing to say. In fact, just the opposite. How do you summarize a life of 85 years in a five minute speech? How is it possible to illustrate to all of you the vibrant life my Sabba lived?

For 18 years of my life, Sabba was the force behind our family, physically and spiritually. In his prime, he was a hefty man, with the strength, body, and energy of an ox. He loved to use his hands- no project was too simple or too complex for him. After he retired, he split his time between helping Miri and David in the hardware store, which he had opened with Savta years ago, and lending a hand at my father’s shop in the city. His helping hand also extended to his grandchildren. Ronnie, Mikey, and Leore can share plenty of stories- they lived much closer to him than we did, and saw him multiple times a week, while us in Staten Island saw him every Shabbat. But on those occasions when we’d get together on Sundays to celebrate Father’s Day or Mother’s Day or the other myriad of holidays that would bring our family together, he would not shy away from asking us about our school work and offer his help with projects. I have a picture of him from years ago- based on my haircut in that picture, I must have been in the 7^th grade- sitting in the dining room of our old house, helping me put together posters for a social studies project. Sabba’s world revolved around his family- he was so proud to have us all so close. Yes, there were ups and downs- and with every family, we had our fair share of drama. But every time something happened between us that seemed to be too much, he would come around and remember- and remind all of us- how important family was and how devastating it would be for something to come between us. Nothing was more important, absolutely nothing.

But his sense of charity didn’t end with his family. Our Sabba was a true baal chesed, a true man of loving-kindness. As far back as I can remember, Sabba would bring back countless number of sets of tefillin from Israel to give to boys of bar-mitzvah age in his shul who couldn’t afford their own. Every evening, right before closing time, he would go to the bakery down the block and buy up all the leftover muffins and cakes and cookies to bring to the shul’s yeshiva the next morning. He cared for them so deeply and sacrificed so much for his shul to thrive and grow. There was no prize or reward or special recognition at the end for all that he gave; he just gave from his heart, and his heart was big.

The last 10 years were completely and utterly different. Unless you’ve experienced it yourself, you can’t even imagine what it’s like to care for a loved one with Alzheimer’s. But little did he know, Sabba made sure we were prepared for what was to come. If not for his immense focus on love and importance of family, we would not have emerged from this closer to each other and to him than we ever were before. For the last 10 years, we were blessed with the opportunity to give back to him in ways no one would have ever imagined. No, the wretched disease was not a blessing and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But out of every misfortune comes adversity, and with adversity comes an opportunity to rise above. And together, we all rose above. My mom, my aunt Miri, and Savta came together to care for Sabba and make him as comfortable as they could from the first chapter right up until his last journey on this earth. They worked so hard, so tirelessly, gave up so much of themselves, to make sure he received the best while constantly being surrounded by those who loved him. If all parents were so lucky… The grandchildren also banded together- taking turns to watch over him when Savta needed a break, making him laugh and teaching him to chant “Lets Go Mets” when the games were on, and simply reducing the stress and pressure whenever we could. Through this experience, what was once a love based on respect and fear of the father of the family turned into pure, unadulterated love and devotion.

We learn that the greatest act of chesed one can do is chesed shel emet- the truest act of kindness is giving to someone who has absolutely no ability to return the kindness. This act is pure, genuine, because there’s no doubt in its intention. We learn about chesed shel emet when we read about the acts of the chevra kadishah, casket pallbearers, and anyone who does something for a person who has passed on. But I believe that it’s possible to do chesed shel emet even with the living. And that’s what Sabba taught us- everything that he gave to others- to his shul, to his community- was pure and innocent, with only the best of intentions, without waiting for anything in return. And the love we freely gave to our Sabba, our beloved Bobosh, was a love we knew we couldn’t get back.

But it turns out he still had a little more to give. This past Saturday night, when we all thought the end was near, Andrew and I were driving up furiously from Washington, to hopefully get the chance to see him one last time. On the phone with my mom, I asked her to ask Sabba to wait for me, even though we were still 4 hours away and death seemed imminent. Miraculously, when we pulled up to the hospice at 1am, he was there, sleeping peacefully. Indeed, he had waited. As I walked into his room, I slid next to his bedside, gently bent over to kiss his forehead, and thanked him for waiting and that it was ok to go. There was no need for him to suffer any longer.

Life and death are so difficult to explain, to justify, to come to terms with. But if I'm positive about one thing, I'm positive about this: our Sabba has a one-way ticket to a seat near the Almighty. I'm no expert on these things, but he's suffered far too long and far too much for anything less. He lived a good life, with his family always around him. He was a man of chesed, loving-kindness and charity, always thinking about helping others, and always had family in the forefront. And I'm positive he will be rewarded for all of that in the World to Come.

It's so hard to say goodbye, Part One

Have you ever stared at death in the face and wish he'd just get it over with? I did this weekend.

After a long drawn-out battle with Alzheimer's, my grandfather passed away this evening. We've kinda known for the last two months that this day was on its way- he was taken to the hospital two months ago because he was having trouble breathing, but then they discovered that his colon wasn't working any longer. So after six weeks of drama in the hospital, my mom and aunt decided it was time to move him to a hospice, make him as comfortable as possible, and let him go. That wretched disease took away almost everything mental and physical about him- in his prime, he was a hefty man, with the strength and body of an ox; this past week, he was just a shadow of himself. And after the trauma he went thru during the first few weeks in the hospital, what was left of him mentally just retreated away, inside, where no one could penetrate.

On Friday evening, we thought it was the end. I called my mom to wish her a shabbat shalom, and she told me that she was running out to the hospice because he was in heart distress. I secretly walked around all shabbat with my cell phone, justifying that with the fact that I could not go 25 hours being in this limbo of not-knowing. But, no phone call came, and Saba lasted another night. We had already planned on driving up to NY on Saturday night for a wedding on Sunday- we planned to return Sunday night but packed for a week, in case we needed to stay. As we were running out of the apartment, I called my mom, who said that he's gonna go any minute, but I told her to tell him to wait for me. And indeed, he waited.

He waited long enough for us to pull up to the hospice in Queens at 12:45am. As I walked into his room, I slid next to his bedside, and saw my grandfather sleeping and breathing heavily. I gently bent over to kiss his forehead, thanked him for waiting for me, and that it was ok to go. I pleaded with him- told him we would all be ok and we'd take care of Savta, and that there was no need for him to suffer any longer.

But it turns out he did me one better- he waited until today, so that there wouldn't be sadness on my sister's anniversary, which was on Sunday. Always thinking about his family, that guy.

Life and death are so difficult to explain, to justify, to come to terms with. But if I'm positive about one thing, I'm positive about this: my grandfather has a one-way ticket to a seat near the Almighty. I'm no expert on these things, and certainly may be professing blasphemy at the moment, but he's suffered far too long and far too much for anything less. He lived a good life, for the most part. He was a man of chesed, loving-kindness and charity, always thinking about helping others, and always had family in the forefront. And I'm positive he will be rewarded for all of that in the World to Come.

We got back to DC Sunday evening. We brought up the suitcases we packed the night before, but just left them lying on the floor of our bedroom, somehow knowing that the time would come soon for us to pack up the car and make the drive north once again. And tomorrow, we'll be on the road again.

I feel myself fortunate to have grown up with all four of my grandparents. We saw our grandparents every single weekend until it was time to move out of the house and move away. Most are not as fortunate, and I feel blessed because of it. Grandparents have so much to give and so much to share with their grandchildren. I would never give up those years for anything.

Flu addendum

1. I have never gotten a flu shot.
2. I can't remember the last time I had the flu.
3. If you suspect you have the flu, get to a doctor within 72 hours of first symptoms. Tamiflu can help. Otherwise, flood your system with hydrating lyquids, taking hot showers, and getting some fresh air helps in the recovery process. Having great friends who will bring you a thermometer, PowerAid, Nyquil, and do your shopping helps even more. :)

Overheard behind the counter

Raise your hand if you were smart enough to get the flu vaccine this year? Yeah, I figured most of you did. Now raise your hand if you know anyone who's gotten the flu this year? Quite a number of people, huh? (That would make sense since many of you reading this were at my Superbowl party and currently have the flu.) Now raise your hand if you think that since you got the vaccine, you're all set? Nope! Wrong! Cuz guess what? The flu strain that's going around this year is NOT one of the strains included in the vaccine. Sorry, guys. The scientists guessed it wrong this time.

So we go to CVS with three scripts in hand to fill, two of which are for Tamiflu. The pharmacist takes a look at the notes and says flatly: "we only have two pills left, but we can order some more and they'd be in by tomorrow." So we kindly asked her to see if another local CVS had some, and while we wait, we hear someone from behind the counter say: "This stuff had been sitting on the shelf for 6 months and all of sudden they all want it and now it's gone!"

I blame global warming.

Idealism vs. Realism

Much has been written on the idealism of Obama versus the realism of Hillary, and I'm sure more will be written before all is said and done. But here's one point I don't think I've seen yet: if I remember correctly, in most, if not all of the primaries so far, Obama has gotten much of the under 40 vote while the 50+ is going to Hillary. At the same time, since the Ted Kennedy endorsement, Obama has been compared numerous times to his brother, JFK. Perhaps the 50+ group is going to Hillary because they actually lived through the JFK years and beyond, and while they may remember the idealism of the time and the positive, uniting message that JFK disseminated with fondness, how do they feel about his actual actions in office? How do they feel about whether or not that idealism and unity actually translated into something concrete?

I don't profess to know the answer; but I think it's something to think about. How does a president get the real hard stuff done? And perhaps the returns from tonight will prove this wrong. Just a thought.

Just Super

I'm not a huge football fan, but anytime a New York team (other than the Yankees of course) make it to their respective sports championship game, I get amped up. And last night was no exception.

We hosted a Superbowl party of 16 people- we've definitely had more than that number in our apartment before, but really never that many crowded around a single source of entertainment: the TV. Thankfully, with a plasma, you can sit anywhere in the room (sans behind the TV) and experience the same view as the person sitting directly in front. So 16 people was just fine, except they didn't eat enough.

Of course no party planning goes on without a little bit of craziness. We had a tiny snafu with the chili and I needed to run out with the car at 6pm to drive the hot pot over to our place. Usually, when I get frazzled, I'll get a bit aggressive with the driving and let out some verbal steam if I'm the only one in the car. As I was rounding Washington Circle and telling myself to breath and calm down, I took notice of what was around me: the streets were mostly empty of cars and instead of drivers, a countless number of people were scurrying about, holding six-packs of beer or a bag of chips and other food to bring to their own Superbowl parties. And immediately, I became calm. It was just so amazing to me that, literally, so many people were doing, or getting ready to do, the same exact thing. There was something soothing to the soul about it.

By the time I got back to the apartment, our friends were milling about, chatting about the pre-game, eating some chips, and scouting out their favorite seat in front of the TV. All in all, we had a terrific time. This year's game was the first time in a while where we had fans for each team watching together and where the stakes were so high. Everyone wanted to see every single play and everyone wanted to see every single commercial. The only real break we had was halftime!

The game itself was also one of the best football games I have ever seen. I am a bit biased, being from NY and all, but we were all on our toes, biting our nails, screaming, etc., the entire time. And I have to give our resident Pats friends credit- they took the loss with so much class; I was quite impressed with their sportsmanship. Xerpentine even led the first after-game toast to the Giants! All I know is, if we had just finished watching the Mets lose the World Series, I would have kicked everyone out of the apartment so much earlier than how late everyone stayed and chatted after the game.

Overall, we had a great time. The only issue, is that now 6 out of the 16 people at the party have the flu or flu-like symptoms, including myself and AJ. Oy.

I'm a junkie

A political junkie, that is.

My version of a fun evening: having dinner with the hubby, then curling up on the couch for two hours to watch a presidential debate. Yeah, I know. I'm pathetic. The best part of last night was that the entire 2-hour debate was full of wonky policy talk, and boy, was that exciting. There was nuance and high-brow discussion on everything ranging from healthcare to taxes to Iraq and even to the Dream Ticket. And boy, did the place erupt after that. All the talk about making history, charting a new direction, a united Democratic Party, and all the cheers were enough to leave that lump in your throat present for two straight hours. It was fantastic.

What i loved so much about it was the fact that so many people were interested in listening. It amazes me that this campaign season has turned so many people on. Perhaps you can blame it on the Hollywood writer's strike, but so what? People are still tuning in and showing up to the polls in record numbers. Will it last thru November? Who knows. But it's still fun and exciting to watch. I can't wait for Super Duper Tuesday.