250 - ALMOST, ANYWAY

 When talking in terms of centuries, at times even millennia, does it truly make any difference if we discount more or less, two or three years? Generally not, as for example, do two years more or less change history re the Fall of the Roman Empire? Or the Greeks or the Medes, etc. Perhaps to the ones alive then, yes, but to history, not really, at least as far as we know, particularly when discussing ancient times. However, as we near more recent times, our present times, our personal times, well those two or three years have a much deeper import for us. 

What would have happened if the US had entered WWI or WWII earlier? Would the invention of the automobile earlier, by as much as three years, have made a difference? What about labor laws, slavery, and on and on. Yet, in discussion and analysis of times we actually live in or are not very distant, those years do have an impact. Both in one's own history and life story and in the history of the world at large. 

Now, I think in terms of days and weeks. If the sore throat had been recognized as a tumor sooner, would it have made a difference? Would, could it even have been discovered before it was, before it made its cursed appearance on the scene? Could there have been an impact on his treatment and healing process? These questions can eat away at a person, and it is not a pretty thing at all. Nor can the brain order the heart to stop asking those questions because there are no answers. Certainly none that will overcome those awful questions, the powerful, yet useless, or worse, questions of the 'what if' category. Woulda, coulda, shoulda. Useless, negative, but we are all humans and do not always nor easily follow logic. Does, will this history of one small boy and family, friends and strangers who pray for him, actually have an impact outside that limited circle?

"Develop your senses - especially learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else."  Leonardo DaVinci.

So states that brilliant man. A thought worthy of pondering. A thought which actually knits us together much more than we usually acknowledge.  It is an earlier version of the butterfly theory, where the flap of the wings of a butterfly on one side of the world will initiate a chain of events which will cause some important event on the other side of the world. And no one will ever know. I know I am hoping for the wings of a butterfly, which will flap in the form of a scientist who has discovered the cure for this rare tumor. I am hoping, but am I realistic? Will the scientist have been born on time to grow up, do research and make his/her great find? These are questions that torment the soul but how to get rid of them?! Impossible. I know; I tried.

Back to Leonardo. Time is of the essence for the future of the world. Indeed, if there will be a future, or will we find ourselves doing a 'hail mary' in the form of hastily built sci-fi space arks trying to save a remnant of humanity after it destroyed its own planet. Why say this? 

Simple.

 Once again what I have been saying ever since DeSantis came on the scene in what is now a much more widely bruited about theory as well. Theory nothing! This is fact. Simply observe, list, his damningly effective measurers to shut down Florida. Education. Censorship. Religion. Health care. Social safety net. Even Disney!!Trafficking humans all over this country. Nothing is beyond his finger pointing or his dangerous fascist behavior and policies. Yes, fascist spelled this way - Fascist. Way above and beyond even the most perverted and extreme form of the new conservative thinking, so inimical to democracy and its survival in this, our embattled under siege nation.

Here is the Merriam-Webster definition of fascism.

 "a political philosophy, movement, or regime (such as that of the Fascisti) that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition."

Here is the statement of an expert on fascism, who has written articles and books, speaks about it and is a professor of history.

"Florida Governor Ron DeSantis would "destroy our democracy" if he is elected president,"

Folks, even as we pray for Yitzy, for his healing, we must also pray for the healing of this nation, for its rescue from damned dangerous fools such as Greene who would separate us, actually divide us into two nations. What an ass. Actually, she disgraces them, and Bilaam's ass who spoke words of wisdom and prophecy must be embarrassed. A dangerous one. 

 So pray for us, as a nation, as a leader of the world and pray, please, to see Yitzy heal.

 HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

IT'S NEVER GOING TO GO BACK

  Yes, I can believe that. Though I know better. I can still wish for a time before diagnosis, when a little boy lived a little boy's life. When his future had a gleam, a positivity about it, surrounding it, for all was possible here in this country, the golden nation, the "goldeneh medina". It was the place where hard work, a good infusion of luck, and a positive framework of society, one could go far. Certainly, children did not get sick with horrid disease, nor was hatred of others considered a positive trait. But yesterday was a welcome throwback to the past, a day out at Dave and Buster's after a good week. With proper precautions taken.

Please keep up those prayers, for we need their power, the unselfish altruistic power emanating from them. Selfishly, I was grateful for the energy and state of mind where once again, I could laugh and enjoy a bit of life, with hope regenerated, a hope that will buoy us for possible rough times ahead. We will turn back that tumor so that it will never come back.

So no, we should not hope for things to never change, for that means a stagnant society and for harmful ideas and actions to remain in place.   Stagnation inevitably leads to a society speeding, rumbling, down the most definitely wrong roads. It turns a society on end, the new organization following the statement of "French revolutionary  Alexandre Auguste Ledru-Rollin: “There go the people. I must follow them, for I am their leader." When the supposed leaders cater to the worst of society, all in the name of retention of power, well, it will go back, it will return.

This statement, a conclusion about the future of the Republican party is correct. The once noble, respected GOP will never return. Far too much damage inflicted upon it by presumed leaders - who follow the mob they themselves ignited.

 Our world has changed. For the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Many of these changes have appealed to the very bottom of society, the dregs which should never have been allowed out of the glass! This bottom of society is defined by the perverted, regressive attitudes and justifications of a past better off dead. It cuts across all economic and other societal divisions. It has no shame, knows no bounds.

It is about the negation of our societal beliefs and principles deriving from a very simple phrase of the Declaration - "the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness". Today, twisted so that it has become unrecognizable, that phrase is now used to justify restricting the rights of others, violence welcome and encouraged, the rights of 'others' seen as negligible, even unnecessary.

We have now made it acceptable to shout that "fire!!" in a crowded movie theater, the louder the better. The reassurance that "It's never to go back" has been trampled upon. It certainly has gone back to a time which should never be again. A time of great horror and it all began with a laxness of societal rules, the perversion of all that is good, and an encouraged streak of violence and hatred.

Why, in 2023, are we facing a potential Kristallnacht, a night of broken glass, of murder and mayhem, of hatred gone bionic. Blood spilled with more to come. Here in America. Not Nazi Germany. Not Spain of the Inquisition and torture, of restrictions incompatible with life. 

"Day of Hate". In 2023. In America.

The voices of the slaughtered cry out from their mass graves, their charred bones once again crumpled underfoot. Survivors see their past regenerated, reborn, something that should never have been in the first place.

There is no room in this world anymore, for this hatred, and murderous mantras. There is no sense behind those feelings. They provide shelter for the evil, for the cruel, for those wishing to be deluded, to feel they have some sayso over their own lives. Well, no they do not. Not at all, for they are the stooges of those fake leaders, doomed to their own self-inflicted deaths immediately after the first victims are gone.

Today, and indeed for always, pray for good to reign supreme, for evil to be defeated, never to return. Ever.

So today, when you pray for the healing of Yitzy, include the hope and prayer for the world to heal, for the scars to be covered over, the ugliness' defied and new hope sown. For a time when disease has been conquered, where hatred is verboten.

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

BETTER SOLUTION, SOMEONE? ANYONE? THOUGHT SO

 More and more it appears to me that we are living in a world teeming with questions galore, but shockingly, noticeably, very short on answers. At least those of the sane rather than the ideas of Greene who proposed splitting the nation re two colors - red and blue - or rants re Jewish lasers from space. A dangerous idiot, too many dismiss her as Hitler was dismissed, until one day he was not. We must do all we can to stop these people SLAM!!! in their tracks before they finish totally dismantling our country. 

 Greene and her nasty compadres are just the tip of the iceberg of malaise which has afflicted this nation, even the world. We have concentrated on the worst items, forgotten that we must do better in the human care side. Perhaps if we did, we would not need that huge defense budget, a black hole of monies and where it goes - well, truthfully, no one knows for sure. 

Perhaps I am in a sour mood, justifiably so. Worried before re the path we were stumbling on, as an American, as a Jew facing rising, violent, ever bolder antisemitism, how the hell can I feel anything other than worried, confused, frightened. 

But over and above all that, by leagues and leagues, is the cancer of my Yitzy, my 12 year old grandson undergoing treatment for cancer. Not easy, not pleasant.  but for all the unease and trepidation we have, as his family and friends, think of what he is feeling. What can one say to a child who lived in a wonderful bubble, knowing only good, surrounded by a loving family, his only troubles being denied too much candy and chocolate - which he loves - or limiting his phone game time. Or that he will err in the field or not ace that test. I would sell my soul for that situation to return once again and NOW!

The NYTimes poses this statement on its cover: "Three years later, we still don't know how to talk about what happened." Does that not say a great deal re the consciousness of America citizens? When the same magazine contains horrifying story about children - children!- barely in their teens, if they got there, toiling as adults in difficult, dirty jobs, those to which Americans turn a blind eye.  Blind to the work slavery and the desperation of these kids, alone in the world. Even as the masters take advantage of this cheap labor, returning time and again to seek those who will pick the fields, tote that heavy construction debris, do the nasty jobs in a factory. The same ones who rant and rave re those "dangerous criminal immigrants" cheerfully take advantage of cheap labor. Defenseless labor, a good deal for their bottom line.

We all appear to be angry, for one reason or another. We vie in competition as to who had the worst 'package' - as we sip our coffee and turn the conversation to pool shenanigans and property managers. As we whine re the bother of those second homes, even as people cannot afford a roof over the heads of their kids. Sour times.

I fully own up to having a sour outlook right now. Last night, at a performance by an ABBA band, the usual joy in bopping around was not there. I could not hoot and holler. Foremost in my mind, (whatever remains at this stage of the game,) always, is my boy. Always the gratitude to those who lend their voices to us, but also the anger, fierce anger, at the Big Dude up there who sent that awful package Yitzy's way. Always. Always.

The entire world has turned sour. We root for a side in a vicious bloody war with no reason behind it. We watch as a country is reduced to rubble, say tsk, tsk, and send over some more ammo, as long as it is not our blood being spilled! We pick on smaller nations, demanding of them what we do not demand of other, bigger, nations, ones not hampered by any humane rules and socially consciousness thoughts. We veer away from serious, consequential criticism of the big ones, the possessors of major weapon systems and the insanity to actually use them. Hypocrites are we not?!

For now, my thoughts, my wishes, my everything, all belong to Yitzy. How can it be otherwise?

In the meanwhile, put this in your pipe, contemplate the questions, the thoughts, it poses. Perhaps if we all read this, understood it, acted upon it, the wisdom it has and the truth it contains, perhaps, we would, could, live in a better place. A place where children do not get cancer, where they are not war victims, where fairness reigns, where hate is not wielded as a brutal hammer against humanity. A world awash with the Lord's bounty, even as people die of starvation or dehydration.

Please remember to read the daily prayer for Yitzy after you read the following:

"But what if I should discover that the least among them all, the poorest of all the beggars, the most impudent of all the offenders, the very enemy himself - that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of the alms of my own kindness - that I myself am the enemy who must be loved - what then?

C. G. Jung.   Memories, Dreams, Reflections.

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

OH, THE WORDS SPOKEN

  I have been listening very carefully these days to the words spoken and try to garner as much knowledge as I can from them. These words can make me laugh or cry, drown in desperation or lift me up to heights of possibility. At times the words can have multiple levels and thus one has to pay close attention to the words of self and the words of others. 

"Having a 'good' day," What does that mean? A good day relative to what used to be one or a good day relative to the current status. Nausea or sleepiness? A lesser degree of pain? An ability to actually focus on an activity, a positive mood? Is this good day one that we can hope for, pray for to return day after day or is a good day designation which will fall by the wayside as treatment, brutal, but necessary, continues and even grows.

I know what I wish for, the same as any member of the family and friends. What we want is for Yitzy to once again worry needlessly as he prepares for a test which he will, as usual, ace. We wish for a good day when the mighty little man will be the "Beast' of the team, a home run threat always, accompanied by the crack of the bat and the cheers of his teammates. His sisters wish for Yitzy to annoy them with one of his magic card tricks and his brother wants to play basketball with him. His parents want only for a healing and as for us, Gerry and I, we simply wish for a good day, his and ours, the day when we can hold him once again, tease him, pet him, annoy him as grandparents often do and imagine a time of good day after good day and a clear road ahead to adulthood.

What does the doctor mean when he describes placement and size of the tumor. What does he mean when he says there is difficulty at the same time that he says he is hopeful? What are we to take home as the message about Yitzy? What do all these words actually signify?

What. What. What. Our heads spin, in a fog of confusion and concern. How do we interpret it all?

We try to refocus on other issues for a while, important if we are to remain positive, focused and a good support. Thus, I turned to the news of the day and wondered if they are all sick, as their words were, are, so telling.

"In war, you see the value of human life," he said. "How much, in war, human life has no value."

Is a “Fib your way to Congress” trend emerging..."

“Transparency. One word. That’s all it is,” ... “Transparency between what we’re trying to do…or in the process of doing and giving [residents] a platform to give their input on what’s happening.”

"It is typical fear mongering. It is typical xenophobic behavior,” 

 Two sides of many coins. Whom to believe? Whom to trust?

Words and gestures are important. They can raise the spirit or crush it. They can inspire or cause despair. Words must be weighed, chewed up, before spitting them out. Listen, hear, examine the situation and then speak. Words of value. Words of wisdom. Words which will lead to a good ending rather than bad. Words to encourage, not oppress. Words of love, not ugly hatred. Words of acceptance and welcome, not words of exclusion. Words of truth, for truth is the viable means to redeem ourselves and forge ahead where we so desperately need to go. Words which will mesh with the words and thoughts of others and the world's attention and energy can be lasered at the woes and ills of our manifestly ailing the world. To untangle problems, with viable solutions, heal the sick. Give all children a good life, with opportunity and hope.

That is what we want for Yitzy. And for all kids.

Cancer does not belong here. Never. Ever.

Those are words of clear truth.

So are these:

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

NEO, THE SUN AND ALL THAT

  Truly, nothing ever changes. Even when changes on the positive side take place, the chase is on, until the fox, the changes, are redacted from existence or limited so that they become mere words with no power at all. Situation: status quo.

This morning, having paid little or no attention to recent news, I decided it was time. Then I wondered why I bothered. What for? Perhaps names changed and demands were restated - but there they were. Same old, same old. 

So, while I and so many others were focused on sending messages of love and concern to a little boy in Pittsburgh, and prayers were sent on wings of gold to the Heavens Above and its denizens, the world continued to sink into the muck and mire, the same filth which has consumed it in ever growing degree. Dangerous levels are on the rise.

 I sigh in disappointment, but not really. Truly, I did not expect any better; why should I? Focus return to Yitzy. Here was one untouched by corruption and disenchantment. Here was one untouched by a selfishness which buried others under a heavy weighted blanket of indifference. Here was one who continued to ask questions, the same ones we had asked so long ago. Why? 

Why were rights being denied? Why were people still not getting the attention, the help they needed? Why were people hungry? Didn't we have enough food for everyone? And mind you, I never once had invoked my bubby's hungry children of China! 

And the onslaught continues. Why can't the doctors fix everyone in the pediatrics area? Why were some children alone, no visitors? Why and why and why. Why was there no help or not enough for sick people. Why wasn't there a medical army to fight diseases, especially of kids? All good questions which long ago should have been addressed. And why was everyone fighting all the time? Simplistic questions with complicated answers and no reasons for continuing to remain in existence.

In this time of neo this and neo that, from neo-Soviet mantras to neo conservatives blasting the same crap of nastiness and restrictions, of censorship and rights deprival, of deprivation in a world awash with the bounty of nature, that which G-d has gifted us, why weren't the governments of the world having a united attempt to combat these woes which seemingly are permanent. Our own whys and whys, remaining deep within our souls all these years, but neglected, pushed aside by the demands of daily life and the wants of material wealth and 'stuff' we all apparently need so. 

Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps not. But I do not care. The problems of the world will have to do without me until my Yitzy, our Yitzy, is healed, totally, permanently, able to forge forth and make his own impact on this so needy world. Perhaps a forerunner of a new army of neo kids grown up, not forgetting the values of these new neos: positive changes to society, for needs addressed, for peace to reign, for justice, for hatreds of 'others' dismissed, sent into a disgraced exile.

Kohelet tells us, reminds us, that there is nothing new under the heavens. The sun has seen and exposed it all. Let us find the proper time for all that is good and deny the bad any time to play in the bright light of the sun. Time only for good, for peace, for brotherhood, for justice, for health of body and soul.

Naive? Perhaps. Childish? Perhaps and maybe, just maybe, not. Much greater people than I have fought for those goals and ideals. Why cannot we finally emulate them rather than the manifestly evil, negative and insane such as Greene, McCarthy, Trump, DeSantis, Cruz and all camp followers.

So: First goal - heal Yitzy.

Then we tackle the world.

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen

PLAN C

  I have just read the most ridiculous yet very telling and extremely frightening article re a Plan C. What for? For the failed attempts to reinstate Trump. Obviously, the insane alarm rings loud, but does anyone understand that there is a large iceberg beneath that piece of chilling information. After all the corruption, dangerous incompetence and treasonous planning and active involvement, these people maintain support of Trump and all he stands for. The same man who, if ever given any other opportunities for control, would remove the right of free speech which allows them to blather on and on.

Plan C is a plan for when all else has failed. It is as ridiculous as the other article I read this morning which refers to survival after a nuclear blast. What the hell!!!! How about surviving our hostile world of today. Again, leaders of powerful nations shouting, pushing us to the brink of an extremely fragile cliff, the ground crumbling beneath our feet. A vicious war by proxy destroys a nation, cities crumbled to rubble. A war of frontlines even on the homefront, disastrous population loss, and children damaged forever by their circumstances. Victory? No, there are only losers in this situation. Plan C, anyone?

Meanwhile, we are looking for our own Plan C. We wonder whether people realize how lacking our health system is, how overburdened, how shocking its abilities to actually heal those with more complicated issues than a standard infection or broken bone. Funds are cut, even as present funding is insufficient. 

The medical personnel struggle mightily to aid their patients, but many times their hands are tied. The machine they need is elsewhere, in another city. A Hobbesian choice - give the patient a secondary tool with which to attack the tumor, or send them away, disrupting families even more in an already stressed situation. Or the medications are so out of sight in cost and availability that they might as well not exist.

These are the needs of the community. The people do not need another new weapon of war. The nations of the world need new leadership, should toss out the warmongers, the autocrats, the fascists, cut the defense budget as peace will reign. Instead, the monies can be sent and spent on health care, on social care, on bettering the lives of so many. Unless one is unfortunately tapped on the shoulder by intense medical need, one simply does not realize how inadequate are the workings of our health system.

 To say, well, it is better than other countries - irrelevant. That is comparable to when my Bubbie would say when I refused to eat - "The children in China are starving." Why would that make me eat? How would that help those starving children? My offer to mail them my unwanted food was not well received! Nor should we have to mail our ill elsewhere, adding yet another layer of concern to a fiercely fought battle. Plan C is wrong - Plan A is the one needed, with Plan B a distant thought.

Severe, life-threatening illness is awful. No one should ever have to face it. Certainly, young people should not be threatened by its presence and face struggles for survival without the best tools available - to all. Our family blesses the wonderful staff of University of Pittsburgh Children's Hospital and their ability and efforts above and beyond to get Yitzy all that he needs in this life-threatening war he fights, along with the staff of cooperating hospitals. However, how much better for all would it be if the availability was not an issue and energies could be expended elsewhere??

Fighting cancer is exhaustive. It is frightening. Moreso when the victim is a child, confused as to what is happening and why? Why. Called out in moments of pain and nausea. Called out in a voice laden with tears. Called out as his hair falls out. Called out by his family who would take on his pain themselves, away from Yitzy. 

Instead, they sit there, helpless to take away that pain, that confusion, that emotional upheaval and turmoil of heart and soul. They cry out of sight, call and text all day long, anxious for tidbits of hope and less pain or nausea, put on an optimistic front for Yitzy and pray, along with the blessed thousands of kind and caring souls, who join us in praying for his healing - total and complete.

No, no Plan C for us. Only Plan A. 

No time for attention to dangerous fools. 

Only time and attention to the needs of Yitzy and his family.

 Only time for his complete healing.

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen 

DEAR GOD,

 I address You with Your full name to indicate how serious this is. Not a letter protesting some minor or even more major problem. No, this is probably the biggest, most serious request we have made of You since begging for the life of our first born. You heard that young couple then; we ask that You hear that same couple, now just a tad older, answer their pleas and heal Yitzy, their youngest grandchild.

To their voices are added the pleas and good wishes, the goodwill, the beliefs, of so many, of all religions, literally all through many nations of the world. With love in the hearts we ask, beg, plead: Heal Yitzy. Allow him to return to his life, that of a 12-year-old beautiful child, within and without. Return him, healthy and whole, to the midst of his family, now so distraught, so angry. Yes. Angry!!

But it is my anger I write of today. I can only fully fathom my anger even as I feel the bewilderment and anger of others. Why? Why? Why in the midst of a world gone mad, a world turning in on itself, consuming itself as it has done before, why, in the name of Heaven - why must Yitzy become a part of this nastiness? 

Have not enough little Jewish children been taken away from their families? Have not enough of them been tortured by pain and loss, more than any child should ever know? I am so angry now, Lord, its power and depth writhing through me. It is not a good feeling. In fact, it makes me feel even worse. But there it is - my anger. At You.

 I am tired of crying. I am tired, exhausted, trying to fathom the reasoning behind this catastrophe. Yes, I understand that I can never understand nor fathom some of Your actions, supposed to accept, but I cannot. Not this. No way.

I can rage. We have raged through the millennia, from Avraham and Sarah through Moshe through centuries of cycles of success and tragedy, through losses beyond description. We accepted, yes, had no choice in that for the most part, but we did rage. We did question and plea. We did argue with You, from the first leaders to the prophets, we did. At times You heard; make this a time when You hear our pleas. Heal Yitzy. Allow him to return whole and healthy. Allow him the privilege of life; enable him to grow up and add only good on this earth. To serve You. He can only do that if he is healed, Lord. Healed.

The eternal question remains. Why does bad happen to the good? Why do people suffer so? Why are more children in harm's way than ever before? Why? I cannot begin to explain it all, only understand that we are going down the wrong path. But Yitzy? Twelve. A boy who prays every day, with earnest words and inner voice.

A boy who loves Nature and the creatures of G-d's making. Loves birds, observes his trail cams, even has a pet lizard with which he delights in 'threatening' me. I treasure those moments, his giggles and wide grin. I so want them again. As Tevya said, asked, "would it spoil some vast eternal plan if...." . 

So, I shake my fist at You. I shout at You. I plead with You. I, along with so many others, send our pleas for Yitzy to You. Perhaps he is to serve a reminder to the people that we can get along, can share goals, if only we care enough to do so? Maybe, but that is done, so now - return our little boy. Allow him to hold his little nephew again, so proud of the title Uncle. 

Allow him to hear the sweet crack as bat meets ball. 

Allow him to join his people as a man and grow into his responsibilities.

Allow him to tease his siblings again.

Allow me the joy of one of his glorious, sweet hugs.

Heal Yitzy along with his shattered parents, aunts, uncles, entire family.

Show the power You possess. Heal. Yitzy. 

I am not going to stop being angry.

I am not going to promise something which in my acknowledged weakness I know I might never keep perfectly.

I am not offering a trade, though I already have, shouted it at You.

All I, and so many others, want, wish for, is a permanent healing.

That is all Yitzy wants. 

No more crying, confusion, concern as he loses his hair.

No more pain.

No more confusion, trying to understand why he 'deserves' this - why, why, why.

NO!!!

He is twelve and does not 'deserve' this. 

So, in my anger, I challenge, I demand, I cry and cry - Show Your Power. Show Your compassion.

Answer the prayers, the pleas.

HEAL YITZY!

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen 

WHERE ARE WE?

I look around and see a different world. A changed world, and not for the better. Certainly, these days I have little energy to look deep into the dark world of politics. 3/4 of my entire being is zeroed in on Pittsburgh and one little boy there. Fighting a battle which should not have to be fought. Confused as to why this is happening to him, why his life has become upended. The fevers, the repeated hospital stays, the canker sores, an entire life changed. Nor are there answers to give. Nor is there help for the frustrated adults who only wish to 'do something', but cannot, other than to be there and to pray. 

The private world of community can be of comfort, a great deal of it, as they support the family in presence, in deed, in thoughts, and prayer. For all that we are grateful. Nor do we have words powerful enough to express the depths of our gratitude to Yitzy's medical team. 

The Bible tells us, warns us that there will be moments when we will find ourselves in the darkest deepest depths of our very being. We turn around, frantically seeking answers, seeking refuge, solace, but there is little or none, certainly insufficient to ease anguished hearts and minds. It is then that we remind ourselves of the one place remaining, always there, too often ignored. Albeit at times the silence from that place is deafening, and we despair. Until we are answered, one way or another. Psalm 118 tells us that "From the 'meitzar', an extremely narrow site or state of mind, no room for hope, and then, in His great kindness, we receive answers and hope is restored.

Psalm 31:1 tells us the same thing. 'From the depths I called to you, please answer me'. This verse is one of my favorites and I have it engraved on a bracelet. 

In Jonah 2:2, he called to the Lord from true depths, literal and figurative, and G-d answered.

Those are the sentiments we must take with us when we enter the gray world. The world at large. This world is a confusing, ugly place these days, and getting worse. Nor do I see signs of efforts to improve. At least in the public sphere. The private sphere does much better, though there are poisonous individuals out there spouting their vitriolic poison, tainting the future prospects of the United States remaining a democratic, welcoming nation. 

My own state of Florida is becoming a state where vitriolic haters are welcome. Welcome to hold up signs of hate. Welcome to strew papers of hate in neighborhoods. Welcome to project swastikas on buildings. Welcome. And with our own flourishing fascists, DeSantis, Scott, Gaetz, et alia, what happens next? Where do we go from here? Not a clue.

Do not even think of looking for a leader in our current residents in the political universe of the country. There are no leaders, only speakers of falsehoods, possessing trashy mouths, proud of their flaunted ignorance and deliberate denial of truth and social justice. They endorse censorship and wish to turn back the clock of history, reconstruct and reinstate all the errors of the past. Not a statesperson in the lot.

We must turn to the private world where aid is to be found, and to the one place where we are heard, though at times the answer is silence for the moment. We depend on volume and strength of prayer and pleas, to get an answer. The one we so fervently wish to hear.  So desperately needed.

Join all of us in those prayers and good thoughts.

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen

SOMETIMES

 Sometimes we are blind or deaf to the calls to our souls. Other times we completely ignore what we know to be the right thing to do. Why? Because it might be inconvenient or annoying or simply what we do not wish to do. For whatever reason or excuse we can gin up. And we forget that there are always lessons to be learned if we pay attention, close and careful. And of course, the tendency of humans to be perverse just because!

Sometimes we forget that there are two sides of a coin and remember or focus only on one side of it. That does not mean that bad things are excused because good will occur. That is pure justification of the bad means to a good end. Yes, at times there are those necessities, such as a war to correct or stop evil from victory, but situations are rarely as bleak as that.

So what do we say about the coin which has a delicious little boy of 12 suffering from a diagnosis of cancer? What can possibly be a good thing for that to take place? Yes, of course, a positive bill of good health at the end of it all, may it take place soon, but what purpose could this possibly serve? What good can grow from such a terrible thing?

Like it or not, when one peruses the history of Jews through the millennia, there is often a person or persons who bear the brunt of lessons needful of reminder. Not a happy thought, but it is what it is, we say. As Jews we are told to say "gam zoo le'tovah" Thís too is for the good. 

But what can possibly explain the horror, the pain, the heartache, the confusion of a family, of a wonderful boy who has not a mean bone in his body, to undergo such hurt and harm? Nothing!!!!! Yet something has been happening over the past two weeks, a phenomenon, a huge response from Jews, from non-Jews, all over the world. The power of prayer is remembered, the recipient of those prayers being implored by a huge voice, a powerful voice, a voice of many morphed into a huge single, powerful one. It is one we hope, want, wish and pray daily, even several times daily. Surely the imploring voices, the plea of that huge voice cannot be ignored. Nor must the other side of this nasty coin be overlooked. I hope and pray that this side is the one which will ensure the complete recovery of Yitzy.

 I just wonder though in agonized questions addressed to the One Above, the Big Guy, why must it be done this way? Why must Yitzy be the messenger, the reminder note to us that we had better reorder our priorities, reclassify our needs, and remember the holier side of life, the side we too often neglect in good times. We forget there are too often reminders that it is not "kochi v'otzem yadi", not the strength and power of my hands and efforts that has given me all that I have. We too often forget that principle when times are good.

No, Yitzy should not serve as a lesson for anyone nor anything. Yet too often the good are used to reset the paths of those strayers off the path.  To remember and value, to treasure what is real, rather than what is ephemeral, of no eternal value. Here is an anecdote, a true story of an event which possibly, hopefully, will remind all of the power of prayer, of unity. We must recall and practice, value, the real, the true. This is when we know we have lost our way, when the Mayans are praised as being more advanced than we had thought, ignoring that in all their 'advanced' status, they continued human sacrifice, adults and children, to a misperceived concept of G-d. I remind the Good Lord Above that human sacrifice has been banned ever since the aborted sacrifice of Isaac. 

We Jews fight and argue. We have had to become tough. We have lost much along the way, even as we gained some. We returned to the land promised to us, a land of our own, where Jews are welcome. Yet now we are having strong differences of opinion re that concept. We have turned arrogantly, to our success, in 74 years after establishment we have come so far. We forget the previous times when Israel was triumphant, a power of the times, until the sky fell upon us.

Now here is where I know we are remembering, returning to true values, acknowledging that we do not, cannot, control our own destiny 100%, nor should we forget there are others who are in need of attention, who will serve as reminders, allowing for a positive ending. No two sides any longer, but one integral coin, of two good sides.

The other day a friend of my daughter, was at a person's house in Detroit and that person recalled a posting by my daughter for a Tehillim, Psalm, prayer group, and asked if Yitzy is her nephew.  Upon saying yes, the person's son came over to ask if Yitzy is from Pittsburgh. Which he is. Asked how he knew, he replied that he had been at a weekend gathering in Cleveland and the boys there were praying for a boy just diagnosed with cancer. That is Yitzy. 

At the conclusion, everyone present asked for a text with Yitzy's full name, so they, too, could join in, raise their voices, add to the power and strength of that call for healing. 

This is happening all over. Not only in NY or Pittsburgh but in so many states and even oversea in other nations. Jews remembering, we are one and always will be. Reminded of the power of prayer.  Reminded of our responsibility, to care for the welfare of other Jews, and by extension, all who need help.

I, again, thank all who pray for Yitzy. From the depths of my soul. 

The texts were sent.

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen

HOW DO I SPEAK?

  How do I speak? How do I write? How can I deal with the storm of emotions running rampant through me? Do I say, it is what it is and forget about it, resign myself to it, whatever it is? Or am I permitted to rage, to shout, to plead, to cry? Does my responsibility to others mean I must check my emotions at the door, always remain upbeat when I am manifestly not? Nor can I be that cheery, optimistic person all the time. 

Or is it okay for me to shout at times, to acknowledge, that yes, I have faith, I have hope, could not continue on without them, but damn it! I am angry. Dear Lord. So angry. And so sad, beyond the power of words to fully express the depths of these emotions. 

Literally thousands of good people of all faiths and thoughts are praying for Yitzy, truly a golden boy. A throwback to the innocence of yesteryear. A boy who can spend hours in the forest along with his father, stand still enough so that birds of the forest will fly to his outstretched hand and eat from it. Immensely talented athlete, a triple threat in baseball, modest in his skill, he is an excellent student as well, in both Judaic and secular subjects, and cannot wait to put on a black hat just like his father and brother. 

He is a boy who loves his family and is beloved of and by them. His grandparents simply adore him and are beside themselves in our feelings of uselessness and frustration. In our feelings, our quietly shouted question - why him? In fact, why anyone? 

Why does this world refuse to wake up and understand the uselessness, the waste, of all the energies of hatred and warfare? Why cannot the members of the human race discard that path of evil and instead focus energies into solving the ills of society? Heal the ill with cures that should long ago have been in place!

Why at this time of stress from the unthinkable made real, must the woes of the world intrude as millennia old hatreds resurface from their dirty depths? Why must we constantly fight those who revel in the barbaric spikes of hatred and bias, advancing from words and thoughts of hate to acts of the same, shedding blood as of days of old. 

Why is it so difficult, perhaps impossible, to educate those who hate, oppress, who pillage and burn, that hatred may begin with the age-old plague of antisemitism, but it does not end there. Hate is cannibalistic; once a target is done, it moves on to the next. Until it totally consumes all. Nothing and no one left.

Thus yes, I am angry. I am upset about my own powerlessness to heal the wounds of the world. To heal Yitzy. Would that I could. My heart aches for him. I roar and shake my hands at the Heavens. I whisper my pleas in strangulated tone, hoping, praying, that yes there will be salvation; there is always hope.

 So many are praying for Yitzy, working for a better world, that hope must exist. Perhaps words have helped this morning for my soul is quieter, if not at peace, at least able to return to that optimism that all will indeed be okay. My faith and trust in the One Above must remain strong, know that the power of united voices raised in prayer and pleas for Yitzy will reach His ears and heart and a positive response will soon be forthcoming. 

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen

JUST PANTS

  Pants. Such a simple, mundane item. Into the store or onto the web and there you have them - color, size, style, whatever pleases your pants' palate. On the other hand, pants can mean so much more, can actually change the color of the day from blackish gray to a lighter, brighter one. All because of pants. How can this be, you ask?

Very simply is the answer. We received an email, then communicated numerous times via phone and text - to make sure we bought the right pants, so important was this purchase. Yitzy wanted some new pants. Yes, he actually voiced that need; what a great day! And then a flurry of back and forth exchanges as to the details, especially by the concerned grandparents wanting to get this just right. Pants. Gotta' love them!

It is the simple things in life that give the most joy. The little one discards the complicated toy needing adult supervision and construction and grabs the much more versatile box it came in. Simple joys. Yesterday was replete with them for us and we so hope fervently, devotedly, that such days continue.

The complicated tiny print jigsaw I am working on moved forward with a few more pieces finding their proper niche in the whole, edging closer to a successful completion. I fully expect this thing to take forever and have had to buy 2 powerful magnifying devices for my aging eyes so as to be able to work it, let alone complete it! But yesterday there was no shutting down the optimistic feeling, the knowledge, the surety, that I was up to the challenge and would be the victor in this battle. Just as my Yitzy would win his every battle, his war, and go on to a wonderful, blessed life. What a day.

But wait! There is more! No, not the iconic knives of the ads, but rather a time of pleasure. It was a meeting with author Pam Jenoff, one of my favorites. A prolific and talented writer, she concentrates on the WWII era, before, during and after, always with a Jewish related theme. Her books are not huge tomes needful of great brain power and aid in lifting, but they work; people actually read them, do not use them to impress people. In fact, we found out at the meeting that her new book, Code Name Sapphire, out for a week, hit the NYT list. 

Quite personable and very intelligent she answered numerous questions, including many of mine. For those of you who remember me as a teacher of Language Arts, you will recall, hopefully, my joy in teaching, exploring novels and plays - and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Even better was when the session ended, as I was walking out, several women stopped me to ask about some of my questions and to expand on them. Wow! I impressed myself! And the longtime love of my life pointed out to me that my brain was still working quite well, thank you. Poo! to age and health threats! Ha!

Could this day get any better?

Of course, it could.

A swift healing of Yitzy could and would do it.

An actual writing of my much wanted to write book would actually happen.

Some brilliant art critic would see and recognize my newfound artistic talent and buyers would flock to buy. Okay, I have sold some, but hey, one can always dream. Right? Right!!

And the world would actually forsake hatred, concentrate on the good it can and should do. Harness the brain power of billions and create new miracles. Including the healing of our self-inflicted wounds.

But for me, to head the list, always and forever - Yitzy, whole, healthy, a beautiful, laughing, charming, talented, happy little boy.

May he be granted refuah shelaymah bimheyrah beyameinu. 

May he be granted a timely and complete healing.

May Hashem hear all our voices raised in prayer. 

Amen. Amen.

BEEN DONE BEFORE

  

The American dream is increasingly becoming the American nightmare. That it is not 'too' bad now does not mean it cannot and will not indeed be so, quicker than we ever thought possible.

What gives me hope is the same hope that buoys the family in the case of our Yitzy.

That I can write this. That I have the presence of mind, the energy and time to write of such even as we are dealing with the treatment and planned for, prayed for, healing of Yitzy, well, it means that we do have time remaining, at least a bit, to turn the situation around. And we do have hope of a good outcome for my little boy.

Thanks to you and the doctors.

Thanks to the amazing attention and love and diligence of Yitzy's mom, and the deep, constant love from his dad.

Countless are the times we have heard or used those three words - been done before - to enable, excuse, or condone something, anything, that is important to us. Worse, it has been used to enable poor judgement to recur simply because it has "been done before". We allow poor judgement to win the race, because it has "been done before". Simply put, it is an enabling principle of life which allows stupidity, misjudgment, and yes, even evil, to not only exist, but also to thrive, to allow greed to conquer social needs, and replace goodness with pure nastiness.

While the above is absolutely correct, we also must realize that every coin, every phrase, has an opposite side. Thus, it has "been done before" allows emergency use of medication. It has allowed situations to be explained via exigent circumstances rather than jump to punish. Hence, careful perusal must be part and parcel of plans, thoughts, justifications and actions lest they return to bite us in the rear and cancel any positive results with unplanned for negativity.

At times the positive and negative, the good and the not so good must be weighed. The chemo infusion given to Yitzy is toxic. No doubt about that. It has ugly consequences and side effects. However, balanced carefully, with minute measurements of extremely deliberated calibration and consequence, that toxic mix must be used. If we are to kill off a worse toxicity, a more pressing danger, well, it has "been done before" and will be done again. 

However, when simply bad rules are proposed and then passed, when we allow the most moronic pontifications and expulsions of hot air to influence us, to co-opt our supposed leaders, themselves severely lacking in the brain department, we then shift into another dimension. Yes, these dangerous actions have indeed taken place before, though that does not excuse the peril our brainless leaders are forcing us to wade into, the sharks impatiently waiting just offshore. 

We use the excuse that well, it is not so bad. But oh yes, it is. In fact, it actually surpasses that mild statement and jumps eagerly into total immersion into the pool of "in fact, it is actually very bad". Energies must then be expended, reallocated, as energies are quickly sapped. White hats weigh heavily upon those brave enough, honest enough, strong enough to don those hats and their incumbent duties. Such white hats and the heads upon which they ride are few and far between, particularly during these morally challenging times.  No, it is not so bad; it is worse than that.

In fact, it is worse than that as well. Never before have we been in such peril, the odds of losing our democracy higher than ever before. Never before have so many, high and low, succumbed to the false siren calls of extremism. All that has made this nation 'America' is increasingly discarded along the wayside, drowned in the muck of the ditches. 

Perhaps there will be toxicity in this war of ideas and values. Perhaps there will be some damage. Perhaps. 

But as with Yitzy, if we all fight together, if we all pray together, if we all see our connections rather than divisions, there is hope in all areas.

We are grateful for the prayers said in synagogues.

We are thankful for the Psalms groups that have added Yitzy to their lists, for the power and love added to this battle.

And we are grateful to our Christian, Catholic, Protestant and Moslem friends who have incorporated Yitzy into their prayers for his healing. 

We are thankful for those who send their love and positive thoughts and energies our way.  If so many can get together for the sake of one little Jewish boy, how much more can we do to help all of us, an entire world which desperately needs help - if only we do it together.

Thank you all. The battle has an awfully long way to go, but the first steps have been taken.

May there be a refuah shelaymah - a complete healing - bimhayrah beyameinu - quickly, in our times.

Amen. Amen.

VOICES ARE HEARD

 Yesterday we received good news. Long may it continue. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for all the prayers, candles, novenas, all the good wishes and love sent our way, to Yitzy. We heard good news re the first chemo and are hoping for similar reports until the crisis is over, a healing in place, and perhaps a lesson we all need to learn. 

Voices can be raised for the good en masse; we can achieve positive results through the power of minds and souls harnessed together. The result- a 12-year-old boy who finally was able to get up from bed and eat for the first time in four days. Yes, the second chemo took place, and we are hoping with every atom in our bodies, hearts, souls, with every bit of physical and mental powers we can muster, that the healing take place, soon. All the prayers will need to remain in place, continuing to speed Yitzy along a positive path, continue to help, and we thank Hashem for hearing the prayers and wishes of so many.

In the meanwhile, the power of hate and evil continues to grow apace. The level of uncertainty and fear among American Jews rises dramatically, young Jews in NY - once considered a "Jewish" city, are afraid to openly display their Judaism. CUNY, the system of higher education which provided a path, a way for so many first and second generation Jews to make a life here in America, to raise families, to contribute much to our great nation -this formerly great institution has turned its back on the past, abandoned the present and consigned the future to evil, to perpetuation of ancient hatred continuously hiding itself until it burrows deep within society, finally bursting, and its ugly pus contaminates all. 

Hatred of Jews is hidden beneath taunts and accusations against that nation of Israel. Yes, it is not perfect; neither is any other nation of the world. Yet, for its errors, its actions, even for survival, Israel is condemned and the rush to join the 'party' is on. Crazed with glee at this official acceptance of antisemitism the 'fun' begins. Yes, anti-Zionism is anti-Jewish. Unacceptable demands of Israel, unlike any other nation is antisemitic. No matter what one calls a rose, it remains a rose. No matter what one uses to disguise and rename, repackage old hate in new clothing, antisemitism and murderous thoughts directed at Jews, is what it is, naked, ugly, bloody, a refuge for the evil throughout history.

My world has no room for this hatred. It is filled with my concern for Yitzy. It is consumed with worries for all my grandchildren, my great grandson as I try to turn away thoughts of a strong possibility of a benighted, violent, dangerous future in a world gone mad, unhinged.

Where do we turn for refuge when our own leaders fail us. When they neglect their responsibilities. When they cut each other to pieces. When they act like the trash they are, all of them. Black, White, Hispanic - whatever. One has to look far and wide, deep and high, to find the few who remember who and what they are supposed to be.  

Hate runs in all directions and follows no rules. It seeks its own level and enlarges its territory. it consumes all before it and leaves nothing behind. It sets a world aflame and burns hater and hated alike. There is no escape.

We need to remember the power of good, the attraction of evil, and fight. Power can be harnessed with the input of thousands, millions. They refuse to stand by and allow hate to ruin the world. These are the same people who hear the cries, the anguish, of a grandmother. The combined power of their prayers, wishes, and love help a little boy find a path to health.

May the prayers continue. 

May Yitzy be healed. 

May all our children be safe. 

May our world be healed as well.

A MAN DROVE A CAR

  ... and two brothers died, at the ripe old age of 6 and 8. All the while the father, in hospital from wounds of this same 'incident' remains unknowing of this terrible fact. And a new bride will never see her new husband return home, ever again, dead, at the hands of that same terrorist. Even as at least ten more remain in hospital. 

But never you mind, this was a 'ramming ' of a car, driven into a "group of people" outside a "settlement'. Hence what? Justification of the 'ramming '? An accident? Even as the man found guilty of ramming his vehicle into a crowd in Manhattan now awaits a decision re the imposition of the death penalty. But ramming a car is okay if it happens to Israelis? Jews? Standing waiting for a bus so they could go on with the day? Despite the fact that Ramot is built within the borders of municipal Jerusalem, no boundary wall, no checkpoint, simply a heavily populated neighborhood.? It is not a settlement, though some media including CNN and the NYT deemed it so.

I wondered, as I sat there awaiting a phone call re my Yitzy, my grandson undergoing chemo, the infusion of toxic chemicals, I wondered at the okayed cheapness that Jewish life has. 80 years after the Holocaust. 74 years after the establishment of the State of Israel in their ancestral homeland, and still its legitimacy is questioned. 

Why? 

Because it has successfully come from behind, defeating six attacking Arab armies? Because they have survived war after war, terrorist attacks on civilians time and time again, brutal rocket attacks sent at purposefully civilian targets? Because it has survived war after war, intifadas, brutal terrorism, a media which lies and then swears to it? Because it has served as a place of refuge for Jews from all over the world, including survivors of the Holocaust, denied entry anywhere else, to remain locked in the same countries where an almost successful attempt to eradicate Jewry had taken place? Because Israel has risen to the top of the list as a provider of advances in technology, medicine, science, literature, etc.? 

Or because it is simply a continuation of an ancient hatred, baseless, bloody, simply rewrapped in a cover of words which barely conceals the truth of their intent.

So, the truth. 

This was not a ramming incident; it was a terrorist attack.

It was not a 'man' driving a car, but a terrorist.

It was not outside a 'settlement', but inside a neighborhood of Jerusalem.

Israel is not an apartheid state. Simply walk the streets of the land, enter their institutions of higher education, attend Knesset, check hospitals, pharmacies, businesses, the candy stores of a 'starving' Gaza and see for yourself. 

I am so tired of this. I am exhausted from it. I wonder at the wasted energy, the brain power, the funds misspent. How much more could have been achieved, including curing cancer, if only they would have refocused all this on the correct targets, rather than perpetuate a theme of ancient hate redressed to fit false flags.

 I wonder why the only democracy in the Middle East is insulted, threatened, condemned, even as violations blatant and cruel, are manifest elsewhere in that area of the world - yet remain unnoticed, or given a side glance of no import.

I wonder, but cannot expend more time and energy right now on this. Every ounce of time and energy must be turned elsewhere to a little boy in Pittsburgh fighting for his life, for his future, for the very soul of his family. Every breath of ours, of friends, are directed here, with prayers and thoughts.

May the good Lord Above hear our voices, our hopes, our prayers, and heal this child.

May he have a refuah shelaymah, a complete and total cure, a healing.

May it come soon.

Sheh yavoh bimheyrah beyamaynu.

WAITING FOR NORMAN

 Who is Norman? Why are we waiting for him? Or are we? For those of you of a certain age - like mine - you will remember the song in which a young lady waits for a call from Norman, turning down all else, all certainty, simply waiting for Norman to call. It kind of was the template for dating protocol then. Heaven forbid that a girl calls a boy! Nope, had to wait for her "Norman". Anything else was declasse, too bold, classless.

Basically, that was the template for most other dealings, particularly when one party was of more need or was of less power than the other. You waited. You waited for your date to call. You waited for the repairman to call. You waited for the doctor to call. You waited for anyone to call. You simply waited - unless you were the one for whom others waited. Then one carefully calculated the best time to make that call. Quite complicated, but such was the clime of the times.

Today is different. Today a girl can pick up the phone or approach first. Emails, all forms of social media are available. Today there is very little waiting for anyone to call. It is almost a demand for instant attention, instant sharing of knowledge, or where to find that sought after knowledge. Today, we do not wait. Today, if one is in need, or self or a loved one, there is much self-motivation.

 No one waits for Norman to call. Nope, one goes after one's own Norman, known or unknown, until the connection is made. We call the doctor, or we call those who can call for us, have knowledge and/or connections with the Norman we need. We demand an answer -nicely, but the demand is seen in the hopeful look, in the prayer unsaid but so loud. "Help me. Help my ----- and fill in the blank. Perhaps we are lucky enough, blessed enough to have our own Normans who call voluntarily -the best situation. Today we are proactive rather than reactive. For the one in need, there is no more awaiting Norman.

We are looking for our own Normans. The more the better. The sooner the better. More heads crammed with knowledge of a rare cancer. Perhaps all the pieces put together will amount to a clearer picture and a more open road to healing ahead of us. So we have called Norman. Better yet, others have called us, introducing their own hopefully helpful Norman, the one(s) with the answer(s).

All day long the texts fly back and forth. What have you heard?  Anything new? How does he feel? Is there anything we can do? How can we help? What shall we do? Here are our Normans - we will call them for you. Close friends, more distant friends, strangers and of course frantic family members - all focused on finding that Norman - him and his siblings and cousins and namesakes.

In moments of quiet, I reflect on what I have heard in casual conversations among friends. This one is upset, that one also. They blame each other. There are heated exchanges, threats, and for what? Why? Because we are so deep into ensuring others know how 'important' we are, that we forget the other side, the corollary - they are important too. Why do we waste so much time on sheer nonsense, nothing that should carry any weight at all in our lives. It should not take a disaster, that one life changing nanosecond, for us to realize and prioritize. 

We need to recognize the truly valuable, what is actually life to us. Look at your lives in a quiet moment. Is it really that new carpet or appliance which will make your day, your life, until another one comes along? Or is it the people, the ones for whom you breathe, for whom you would give your life to keep theirs safe and good? The truly important and vital parts of life. 

Take a look at your bucket list. Is it really that cruise to Alaska or is it the health and wellbeing of your family and friends? Is it the diamond necklace for which you would sell your soul, or for those living, breathing jewels of your life?

No more waiting for Norman. Call Norman. Call the Norman who lives within you. Check with all the Normans of your life. Reassess, reevaluate and understand the place Norman has within your life and the lives of all you hold dear.

We are calling all the Normans we know and a few we do not. Others are calling more Normans for us, volunteering their Norman to aid in the battle for Yitzy, my sweet grandson. Who lights up the lives of so many. Who deserves better. 

May all the prayers that so many are sending upwards reach the ears and heart of Hashem. May He answer us with the answer we so desperately pray for. May He provide us with the perfect Norman we need.

wAItinG WAITING waiting wAiTiNg

 Remember the PSA contribution of an iconic egg being cracked open and fried? Well, that is kind of how one feels now within my circle of friends and family. Only in this instance we are talking about the stress related fractures of mind as we wait, one and all, for emails, texts and calls. How is Yitzy today? How is he now, two hours after treatment? What about now, a day later? What about what will be in another week, month, year? How do we get through this eternal blasted waiting?  

How do we survive the stress and most important, how do we help Yitzy wait. Wait for another treatment. Wait for another week, month, day after day, to go by as he awaits a hoped for resumption of the life any 12-year-old boy wants. The thoughts of another year before high school. The thoughts of camps and baseball league, ice hockey, more birding and Nature walks, more responsibilities and more privileges. 

Waiting and waiting and waiting and along with him all the other blessed friends and family who have reached out, added their own prayers and hopes, their good will and love. The massive power of that wave of energy and concern must have an effect, must influence recovery, for how could it not? Moreover, that wave will be constantly, consistently refreshed, enlarged, renewed until that wonderful day of these words spoken -go forth and live your life, the life of any 12 year old. 

Waiting. Waiting.  Waiting.

  During that time, we will also be waitng another miracle - the return of amity, comity, brotherhood, true patriotism, faith in our fellow inhabitants of this troubled whirling orb we live on. Waiting to assure that all 12-year-old kids, those younger, those older, all children of all nations, ethnicity, skin color, religion, whatever divides us now, that all that matters not at all. Only the recognition that we all share the same hopes and dreams for all our kids. Actually, there is no time to waste, no more waiting but rather an active search for the right path to follow, to lead the way, to light up that wonderful, hopeful, highway for all these kids.

I want Yitzy to walk out of the hospital or doctor visit one day, soon, and hear those beautiful lifegiving sun drenched words of cure, hope, and "get out of here and live life!"

And so, we wait. Wait for that call. Wait for that contact. Wait for those words. Wait for that wave to conquer all in its path, mandate a cure, for Yitzy and for all kids afflicted with what they should never have to know. Waiting for the idiots in Washington, the idiots in every political and religious sector of this country, indeed, all countries, to wake up and prioritize correctly, know the best world for our kids is to make sure that we address their needs, their futures rife with potential, and simply allow them the chance grow up! 

No more time for waiting.

And yet we will continue to wait as long as we must for Yitzy.

We will wait.

We will wait as long as it takes.

waitingwaitingwaitingwaiting

I grow impatient. I grow angrier that we waste so much energy on nonsense, on negativity, when there are so many more fundamental issues calling for attention.

Waiting. Waiting - for grownups to be grown up.

Waiting for kids to be kids.

Waiting for goodness and love to overrun, swamp the hate, the enmity, the perversion of religion.

Waiting for Yitzy to be able to run free, play baseball again, be the beloved annoying little brother, the caring uncle, the loving son, the adored grandson.

And so we wait.

SCALES AND SUCH

  For most of us, the scales we abhor, avoid as best we can, are the scales found in medical offices. Yes, those dreaded weight scales for which we prepare. Wearing the lightest weight clothing we possess. Ridding our pockets of everything- up to and including the lint - lol. However, while devoting so much time and energy on our physical weight, we leave another weight behind.

We too often forget - on purpose or not - the weight upon our shoulders and souls. Have we watched our behavior as carefully as we watch our food intake? Do we carry around a teeny tiny scale as some do so as to weigh food portions? Do we carry a small notebook which contains calorie listings - or one listing the egregiousness scale of misdeeds? Do we ever check up on our personal values checklist, our balance outstanding or credit awaiting, or do we only check bank and stock accounts, property and wealth accumulated? On what do we emphasize? Which is the weight we most dread and/or value?

Unfortunately, most of us, and I include myself in this category, not proud of it, pay attention to the one more easily seen, evaluated and addressed. The one of lesser pain and importance. We forget our souls, our humanity, our connection to others which must be nurtured. Instead, we forge straight ahead, often blind to that which we leave behind in the detritus of life. Until we are forced to do otherwise.

It takes a great shock to the system, enough force, high on the gravitas scale, to push us to do the right thing, the hard thing, and be honest with ourselves. We finally take stock in the newly increased moments of introspection. We scour our past, near and far, cringing or sighing in relief as we dredge the most innermost depths of heart and soul. At times it takes the acts of another, better acts, a stronger person, to push us over the line, to impel us to at least try to be better, to remember the true values of life, those that fall into the temporary list and those we take with us, on every journey taken.

There are days I cringe while recalling a moment of shame - where I said or did something with a too sharp blade, perhaps not rephrasing in a softer manner. I cringe at the moments where I could have, should have, been a better person - and was not. Not because I think I am a bad person, but because there are moments when it is so hard to do the right thing, to find the right words, to ignore the difficulty and awkwardness, fear our own inadequacy for the moment confronting us. And so, we do nothing, allowing time and distance to push the sharpness of that knowledge away.

Until, like it or not, it rises up to smack us in the face, ignorable no longer. Since Monday when we received the shocker information that our youngest grandchild, my baby grandson as I tease him, had been struck by cancer. Yes, we knew there are new methods, new targeted drugs, new techniques, greater hopes for full recovery. Yes, we knew, and our hearts overflowed at the outpouring of love, of desire to help, to give comfort. Nor did it matter if they were Jewish or of another n religion or no religion. It mattered not if they were old friends or new, part of the past or present.

Of importance was their strong desire to help, to ease, anything in their power to make a terrible situation better, more hopeful, to let us know that our little boy, our family, were not alone. And it was yesterday that something came home to roost, a most uncomfortable something, and I bowed, and still bow, before the courage and goodness of this person, this old friend, whom I had failed in that moment of grief and need.

This person had an awful moment of grief, a grief that will never end. I sent a small note, meaning to follow up with a longer conversation or exchange of feelings, to proffer as best I could any iota of comfort in a most uncomfortable situation. Not knowing the words to say, I said none at all. Time elapsed, the discomfort grew, along with guilt and shame. It became a burr in my soul that was constantly inflicting pain and hurt, yet I could see no way out, no positive way. 

Yesterday, among the myriad phone calls, emails, Facebook messages, the overwhelming huge volume of words of comfort and love, the phone rang. I could not believe my eyes. Hesitatingly, with great trepidation, I answered. And there was the voice of an old friend, a voice I had cut off because my own was inadequate. 

And so, I bowed before this person, so much stronger than I, so much better. I was forgiven even as I could not forgive myself.

Yes, it was a moment of evaluation, a moment for weighing the values, the true values. I hope, I pray, I promise this person that I will do better, will try not to fail anyone else in their moment of need. I only hope I can live up to this person's example.

Thank you all for the outpouring of love, of friendship, of good will and prayers. There are literally thousands of people all around the world adding their voices to the voices of others, pleading, praying, hoping, urging for the healing of this little boy, facing a man's challenge.

Thank you.

Inadequate yet again, yet my heart overfloweth.