...but it aint about nostalgia

I started this blog in response to an '06 divorce from a violent (court certified) 2nd husband, a strong desire to reconnect w chassidic life and community and get some clarity about what I glimpse in the spoken world of Jew versus text.

As muslims continue to increase their progeny and spread themselves all over in communities in the US and abroad, some claiming asylum, some getting in via work/student visas and never leaving or marrying foreigners to obtain residency for anywhere but the dictatorships they dwell in. I sat in Egypt,listening to conversations between young men in their late 20s, who had never stepped outside Egypt, some had no language skills or education other than grammar school and planned how to find a woman online to court/marry and get pulled out, no matter the country...Sweden was at the top of the list (leggy blondes seen as a big plus) as was the US. There was never discussion about work, "I'll do anything" because the system was already known, the spouse=sponsor was financially responsible for the immigrant and after that the State may grant social welfare benefits.

I read today that the small singular Jewish community in Sweden has been repeatedly threatened by muslims they're making aliyah en masse to Israel. In Brooklyn, NY the week before xMas, 200 Jewish tombstones were overturned in a Boro Park Jewish cemetary. The police were debating whether it was a bias crime. Kissinger allegedly said "It's not our business if the Russians sent their Jews to the concentration camps."

A 46 yr old American woman who married a young jihadist is busily, and not very quietly, doing PR for the online jihad crowd sending announcements out to English speaking converts that its time for war. It's too bad she doesnt understand Arabic to know what her husband and his cohorts say about her as an old piece of ass he has to screw to get what he needs for the sake of Ala so he can blow up something and feel like a mentsch.

So I turn to my own Jewish leaders for some perspective on current events...apparently MIA in the US except for Chabad or kabbalah teachers. It's hard to take Reform/Conservative Judaism seriously, especially when the 'head' of the Reform movement announces 'Israel is becoming racist.' Practice something 3x it becomes part of your routine...a dictum taught to young Jewish students. It seems some in the quasi Jewish world have picked up the goyische dictum, if you repeat lies 3x, they become Truth.

Not only the Arab world (Arab describing muslim populations, at some point pond scum is hard to differentiate from sheiss wasser) but now Jews themselves appear to be of two minds-we have been tormenting, oppressing and cheating the poor Palestinians from the lives they deserve, by building Jewish settlements, holding Golan and keeping Jerusalem intact and available for everyone to use safely, or we should be focused on spreading the light of Moshiach by thinking, acting and speaking good words, studying Torah every spare minute, and in some circles teaching kabbalah to goyim. The Chabad cult of Moshiach sometimes pales in the light of the cult of Manis, but I'll leave that for another post.

My oldest daughter said, make aliyah...this is the place for Jews. I agree, but I'm hold back due to health. My oldest son says many of the Jews where he lives (outside NYS) carry guns because of the simmering antisemiticism. My other children think much as Rodney did, after the LA cops beat the crap out of him "Can't we all just get along?"

Getting along was my modus operandi after leaving Crown Heights...surely educated people all get along, we have Aristotle's Ethics and Proust's a la recherche du temps perdu in common. And if Ethics or recalling the scent of your mother's corsage doesnt keep you in line and friends with someone who wants you dead, learning Kabbalah surely will. Like ships navigating between glaciers without a compass in the dark of night, Jews hope safe harbor is out there, somewhere.

Some days I wonder if anyone outside of his immediate family thinks about Sholom Rubashkin, how many people he fed who would not otherwise have had food.
I wonder about Youseff Khtab nee Cohen (?)from Queens who converted out, lived in Gaza with his converted wife and kids he was raising everyone to be ardent muslims, Khtab suddenly reappears in Queens in 2010, insisting he isnt for killing innocent civilians...just in case anyone thinks he might be back in the US working both sides of the fence.

I don't understand how NYS has soup kitchens, food pantrys, Food Stamps, meals in school for kids, restaurants donated unused cooked food for God's Love We Deliver and other food delivery services..and yet we are shown pics of kids holding signs they ate their dinner from a gas station and we're asked to donate food for hungry New Yorkers.

We dont have enough affordable housing for middle-low income people in NYS-this has been an issue for decades. But Bloomberg found time to install bistro tables and chairs at Union Square and decimate the public school system so that kids are even further behind in math, science and literacy...unless you're Chinese and go to after hours school when public school is over and attend private Chinese school on Saturday to prep for statewide tests.

Leonard Lopate on WNYC was interviewing an author who wrote a book about Boomer parents pushing their 20+ yr olds out of the nest too early, causing them to fail at work and socially. Lopate noted, its different now...years ago we could find an apartment for $200 and with 4 roommates start to make a life...no more. Its all gone. And here I thought all problems evolved from parents divorcing...hmmm.

Yesterday I was perusing thousands of online photos posted on a chabad website. I was mainlining...I couldn't pull myself away looking at the big teased hair, shoulder pads, big eyeglass frames. Pictures of anash who were not identified from the '70s and '80s. Pictures of community members, guests, kids receiving Rebbe dollars. My ex is there with his second wife and my five children are there receiving dollars. I stood on the line many times and received them as well and nary a pic of me. I'll continue to search...A la Recherche du Temps Perdu

along the horizon
where blue sky
meets the sea
I hear approaching
the grinding of ice
..

Mother in Disguise

I caught the middle of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? on TCM last night and that morphed into my deceased mother showing up in my dream. I was looking down at a lunch counter (at 17 I worked as a 'grillman' for lunch counter at Woolworth's) and there in all her former glory was my mother, sunglasses and all. Oddly, she resembled Liz reprising her role, blousy, hair w blond highlights and as I noticed her, she stood up and climbed up to where I was watching her. It turned out we were both on a bed, in the air or a loft, but she lay down in a fetal position and said she wanted to just stay there, with me.

This is only her 2nd appearance since her death in '06. As the dreamer best knows her own dreams I would say its a role reversal of wishful thinking, as I'm under alot of stress lately. As a woman incapable of showing emotion to her children in life, its strange to sense longing in her in death.

As I attempt to move closer, physically and emotionally to my children, my daughters in particular, the voice of my mother often seems louder than my own. And that truly scares me because I am not her in any remote sense, physically or spiritually.

Growing up in an emotional vacuum left me craving and distrustful of being close to anyone, even my children. And this 'disease' has been passed down...in different forms to each child. I see them struggle with me and other relationships, to one another, while redefining me as someone in their lives, late and in some ways too late, not wanting mothering and me trying to mother...and it so often feels impossible to explain in words to them that what I needed from my mother is what I'm trying to give them. It took me years in and out of therapy, reading, studying to learn what was, what is what might have been...what can be fixed or not, healed or left as a hole in the heart.

Line from Virginia Woolf movie last night..."Mourning is just an extension of self pity" ...after a point, it is.

Dreams of gathering...things

Why dream of mustard seed flour? Does such a flour even exist? I was searching for it and found sacks, the size of small Hecker's bags that had to be lifted and taken. But then a 4 footed long haired pussycat came caterwauling because it was 4:40am and he felt it was time to eat his breakfast.

Very strange how I've baked all my life and lately anything I bake is leaden, as to be inedible, tasteless. As the adage goes the quality of the cholent reflects the guests who will eat it, must be for baked goods as well. Or maybe this is why menstruating women are forbidden to bake challah or make their husbands beds or hand their husbands anything, hand to hand...and I'm sure a host of other dainties I've missed. I remember going to a kallah class in Crown Heights with a bevy of brides-to-be gathered at the feet of this particular rebbitzen (self annointed) and said rebbetizin was whispering so low that anyone not sitting 6" from her slippers couldnt hear a word. So it could be why I'm not fully versed on Niddah laws and their effects on baked goods.

I followed Ina Garten's recipe for Irish Soda Bread and it could be used as a door stop. Thinking that baking soda may not have been fresh enough since that's the only leavening used for 4 cups of flour. And then the best Gingersnaps in the world, a recipe from Paula Deen, came out way too overdone when they should have been chewy. I sent MD brownies for his birthday and even he asked, WTF Ma? or maybe it was something more polite but I asked myself that very question.

Could be the jinn IBSinger writes about, those unseen entities that come around to cause problems when you least need them. They come of their own accord and when you need a lesson taught...and then the souffle falls flat or you twist your ankle on a cat toy you looked at 50x on the rug as you walked past it. Or maybe the mezuzah needs a check?

What kind of Judaism is this that is a hodge podge of Beatrix Potter's anthropomorphized animals speaking, jinnies messing the challah dough, bits and tatters of law, minhaggim, rumor and assumptions?

I was married to my children's father who shaved my head every once in a while...seems tznius according to some in Chabad meant 1" of hair for women as well. But then you can purchase a sheitl of human hair that goes down your back and you look as lovely as if you had hair. I knew women, the older rebbetzins who came to Brooklyn from Russia, Hungary and Poland. They had the front row in the women's section in the old 770. They always wore sheitlach but not for beauty, in fact it appeared those were the last of the horse hair models, combed and shaped once and plopped on like a hat, a middle part, no bangs, functionary...serious and the style went well with the no makeup look and a pair of small pearl earrings.

So when the Rebbe speaks of women obligated to wear a sheitl, its unlikely he meant 24" hair pieces taken from the heads of Indian or Chinese idolators. No matter what kind of scarf I wear, Israeli w fringe or silver threads, plain cotton triangles, tied up or down, I look like a wash woman. I recently bought a sheitl in NYC and the woman showed me there is actually a remedy invented for slipping scarves and wigs. Its a small cap, like a stocking that you slip over your head and the sheitl behaves itself for hours. Like you didnt know that....

So its shabbos Shemot...I read w tissues this last weeks about Avraham missing his son...I lost Josef, take Benjamin and you might as well dig my grave. Now everyone gets to leave (hence ComingHome B"H), lock stock and whatever isnt nailed down. Its not Pesach that I look around and ask when golus ends...its reading parsha Shemot.

Seeking Devorah Shaya

So many stories, too much tzuris kept me from posting. I returned to posting, outting my Self, not in a sexual manner but in a manner of having a 'voice' which I have not used all my life. Was a mother, a student, administrator, a writer and haunted by abuse, have remained silent most of my life. Imagine...a writer, barely able to write, express and document what was lived, seen and heard.

And as I came 2 days ago I found comments and yours are like a whoosh of oxygen, I kept reading and reading. Want to say thank you for the wealth and beauty of your notes...please stop by anytime and write as you like...its like receiving a gift.

To move or not to move...moot question?

You think you know your kids, you hope they know you and then you find suddenly, no one knows anyone.

so for years the kids, now adults, have been nagging me to leave NY, come live in PA where they are...I tried to find work there, tried getting a teaching license, looked into options that would make my work more 'portable' rather than the somewhat job specific type writing I was doing. I went to employment agencies who said take a secretarial course, learn Word as a professional (not hunt & peck typing) etc and I thought myself too busy, not to mentioned over extended at work, to start retraining in my late 40s. So in NY I remained until I got so sick...

So now that moving is a reality and actually a necessity...the kids are in panic mode. They're arguing about which neighborhood is best, their schedules dont permit alot of running around to view apartments so I'm previewing online and sending them links, I'm making calls long distance to landlords about availablity...its ridiculous. One daughter was sent rent money so when a place was found, it could be secured asap and then I pack and go.

I have 2 sons physically capable of renting a small uHaul and coming here (8 hour drive) and making this happen, but one says he couldnt possibly do this before May and the other says he cant take 3 days off from work, he needs his pay. I didnt ask for free labor, they would be paid, I would pay for the truck...forget it.

At this rate its very doubtful I'll be relocating. I'll stay in NY w/out insurance until Medicare kicks in and just hope for the best.

When I think of how many times I moved as a single woman looking for the right place-a place to live without a thieving landlord coming in while I was out or having a loony roommate who used a broom to try getting my terrified cat to come out from under the bed...or the neurotic divorcee who would listen to every foot step on her stairs and asked who was coming or going in my apt..

what I thought would be a joyous family project, something to bring healing and that we all wanted and I could not fulfill earlier...now is a source of tension and hostility between them and actually caused a flareup of my arthritis...

If its like this while I'm still here, I cant imagine being in a community where people drive like NYers use the subway to get around, or depending on anyone for anything- Which I said I would never do-nothing in life, in this life (maybe your life its different) is ever simple, straightforward and easy.

To and Fro

I created this blog as an 'ari miklat' where I could come, write and understand what swirls around me and often inside me. In biblical times an ari miklat-a city of refuge-was were people were sent who had committed crimes for which only separation from the rest of the Jewish community would be considered punishment. They were into exile and that is where they remained.
When you voluntarily walk away from Chabad, you no longer exist. If I doubted that concept it was made clear in the past 6 months as I contacted a number of people and returned to Crown Heights to visit anash who financially cared for my family. I was stunned at the rebuilding of her home, the number of children she had continued having and the multitudes of grandchildren. I was more stunned at how beautiful she was, 25 years later. Being at home and allowed to nurture her family, have her children and be supported by a loving and employed husband put the glow on her cheeks and the lightness in her voice. I was using a cane to walk and just retired on disability. And as I had hoped with my children, that they would remain young as when I left them, just waiting for me to return to hold them again, I had somehow held onto the dream that when I could support my family, keep myself and my children from being abused, that I too could return and pick up where I left off.
But I left a pauper erev Pesach. All the furniture was packed and I sat in a dark apartment waiting for the moving van for 3 days without electricity or gas. Not a sound except the mail coming through the mail slot and on that last day there was a check from the Rebbe's Household Fund...a check to buy food and clothes for yontif. But the Rebbe knew everyone had gone already, he knew I was there alone and would be leaving for college against is wishes...but somehow the check was sent and arrived right before the moving van did.
I'm putting this blog out now because as adults some of my children are coming to terms with their own rage and anger at me for having left them as toddlers. And in such moments make statements that I ran away...the word abandonment comes up.
I've made my peace with G-d and its an ongoing daily process, but my running was always to, not from. As in To Make better, To Solve problem, To Create a life for us.

I no longer make excuses for the pain I live with, I am a woman who took care of 2 alcoholic parents, who turned to Chabad for a life of sanity and encountered rationalized religious rejection for things that could only be voiced after the loss of the Rebbe and 2 decades later, by a new generation in pain, confusion, turning to substance abuse as they begin discussing...hypocrisy, double standards, denial of mental health and domestic abuse...and they now also begin running To, a way of understanding G-d and where they fit in this world, inside or outside Crown Heights.

The G-d I know is the same one I heard as a child between godless parents; the same One who watched over me after I left Crown Heights, the same One who listened to me beg for a 2nd chance at marriage and the same G-d who shepherded me out of a dangerous and frightening 2nd marriage. I recognized this G-d only through Chabad, in the joy of niggunim, hearing the voice of the Rebbe at fabrengens, hearing the Rebbe sing...so while I had to run to fix a mess, I also had to run 'home' finally because the journey for me began and ends for the same reason, to be on the path G-d assigns.

The hardest thing for me is the very thing the Rebbe asked of me every time we communicated, "be b'simcha." I left Crown Heights in 1986 and made a trip to the Rebbe's Ohel in 2010. One of the rabbonim of the bais din who converted me insisted I go, pray and basically touch base with the Rebbe. I argued that when a child is told by his Father not to do something (as in do not leave the community) and goes against his Father's wishes, it is awkward to return and ask for anything, to even speak. The rabbi said, "If G-d can forgive, the Rebbe can forgive and does..its the same corporation!"

I took care of my mother for 4 years before she died of cancer. The same mother who did not want children but had no means of supporting herself. She was of a generation where you married rich if you could and closed your eyes to everything as long as he took care of you. She died of breast and lung cancer. She rarely spoke to me as a child and then even less in her last days. I never felt I knew her. I often at by her hospice bed as she lay with closed eyes, hoping she might say something, anything before she died that she could see me, that I was somebody, who had done something...a mother myself. She choose to remain silent. Silence is what destroys both individuals and families. Silence is not the politeness that allows sins to remain covered, it is the disease that sanctions tumors in the heart when darkness grows until you can no longer love or trust.

So these are my notes on living...you can read them or leave them. They may help some and confuse others, but they are mine.