TIME AND TIME AND TIME AND TIME

  Good morning, I woke up later than usual today and it is late for me to be writing a blog. In addition, my head, my heart, my soul, are swirling around, tinged all over with huge areas of sadness, depression and a deep confusion as to how we, the world, have become so enmeshed in filth and violent ugliness. People lose whatever humanity, whatever constrictions decency had upon them, and indulge, wallow, in the worst of the worst thoughts and deeds. 

And the world buys into this, covertly and overtly, complicit in the crimes being committed, these violations of humanity. How they can sleep while the fate of the hostages, if even alive and if so, what is their condition after 3 months of brutality, starvation, rapes, beatings, mental and physical abuse as they sit in the darkness, alone, or are held in homes of "innocent" civilians - of which there are truly none. Not a one. 

The agony of the captives, the unbearable state of being of members of their families - mesh with my personal agony and at times I cannot breathe. Yes, people will say, talk to someone, but whom? How can I converse with one who does not understand the components, the awful symbiosis taken root. However, I am on a road if not to complete recovery, for the loss, the absence of Yitzy is forever, but rather to a situation or level where   I can breathe, when my thoughts are not only aligned, or directed to, focused upon the two disasters in my life at present.  Plans of outside activities and a return to the hobbies in my life, to some laughter are increasing. 

All with one caveat. How can I ever reconcile with a G-d who is supposed to protect His people, certainly the children and yet He has not. He has been absent, yet again. Even as the worst pogrom since the Holocaust took place, continues with its horrid aftermath, threatened by its perpetrators to constant repetition what can I say? What can I understand? Are we not entitled to live lives of productivity, of love, in peace, with our families   without animals descending upon us, rabid packs of wolves who delight in the destruction of their prey?!

 The concurrent, resultant grief on two tracks of deep sadness is a difficult grief to overcome. But I am trying, and I am succeeding to a degree. I have brave people before me who have withstood   overwhelming grief or are fighting their way out of its smothering hold. My son and daughter are heroes to me, their children going to unbelievable lengths to support them even as they deal with the loss of their beloved brother.  

There remains for me a sense of abandonment, for where was G-d as we called on Him, desperately, hanging on by a thread, begging to heal that so deserving child, one who accepted his own death, at 13, before he even lived, all because he believed this was the wish of his G-d. I still cry at his depth of faith and wonder, wish to emulate that faith, but first - the anger. That anger must be at a level wherein a sane discussion can take place. But not yet. Not yet.   

Alongside is the anger and sense of abandonment of His people, once again, as He watches from His Seat of Glory, as they were brutalized, treated as war booty, held over the heads of the Israeli army. Worse, unbelievably having the rest of the world forget them as they whine, these "innocent" civilians who hold their own captives, for three months of lack of water, food, electric - even as a miracle occurs and lo and behold, fed, watered, clean,  a miracle of modern times and not to forget that busy dude who appears in so many scenes, the same donkey cart containing the same mattresses, the pictures  of Syrian devastation passing as scenes from Gaza. 

G-d, speak up. Strike our enemies even as You once did long ago. Even as You saw to the end, so late, of the Holocaust. Even as You remembered Your people and heard their cries. Even as You look down upon the captives, held so brutally, their families in agonies beyond belief, beyond understanding, and the mounting deaths of our best as they fall in battle.  

Hear Your People. Take good care of those who have gone before time, when Your help and concern were not soon enough.

And take special regard to Yitzy, so mourned, so missed.

Hugs and kisses, Yitzy, my sweet boy.

Always and forever.  

"AND IT WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT"

 Much of Jewish tradition and history, is reliant upon rhythms, good and bad. The eternal face of hatred rears its ugliness again and again, generally either a ramping up of blatant Jew hatred, taking it up a level or explodes in yet another place once considered a "good place". Perhaps even as close as yesterday, it was so, a place of opportunity and welcome. A place of security and safety. A place where there was confident optimism for, of, the future. That meant Jews were able to live, to raise a family, to work in all fields of endeavor, to contribute to   culture, to the arts, to research, to attend universities, and participate in the government of that nation. Until it was no more. And it was ugly.

 Always, though, there was the other part of that cycle - survival. A return to success, a finding of a place of sanctuary and promise of a future. A place where Jews could live and thrive. After the end of WWII America led the way, though too little and quite a bit too late, and Jews were thriving throughout the democratic world. Always an undercurrent of antisemitism, yet quiet enough not to be a major impediment to a "good time" for Jews. Such was the time we were living in, now, where we thought life was a definite, where we were integrated within the structure of the nation without issue, even with acceptance. Where we could breathe freely, with confidence. And the circle continued on its inevitable path.  

There began once again a gathering of a herd of elephants in the room, too many to ignore any longer, directly in our faces. Furthermore, that herd gathering was almost instantaneous, yet no one, none of those oh so smart analysts of society noticed the synchronization of attacks upon Jews, upon Israel, the offensive, dangerous, existential threats of a chant calling for genocide to be waged once again on Jews. Or they noticed and were implicit, explicit or complicit - choose your option, for at the end of it all, it is the same difference. Once again, the cycle turned sour. Once again Jews became the favorite target of a burgeoning hatred and a growing acceptance of harassment of Jews, emotional and physical. A true growth industry.

         A brutal wake up call to all Jews and advocates of fair play, of justice, of truth, a reminder to all that once again "it is broke and once again, we apparently cannot fix it. Where is everybody? On which line do they stand? What are they chanting? From whom are they demanding a ceasefire along with impossible conditions? Why are the violated, the aggrieved demanded to surrender, to admit war crimes that never happened? Of no existence? Other than the ones they committed themselves, upon Israelis and their own. 

Why are all demanding of Israel to release the hostages!!! They do not have them even as soldiers are dying in the efforts to find them, to rescue them, to return them to their homes and families. Watch, listen closely, to the voices of a thousand musicians and singers, including the families of the hostages, pleading for the return habayta - to home, home where they belong. See it on YouTube.

 Where the hell are the nations of the world? Are they all deaf, dumb and blind? Who took them, killed them, raped them body and soul, debased the bodies of these martyred innocents? Tell Hamas, demand of Islamic Jihad, along with the 'innocent' civilians who have their own captives, to free them, release those who still live and the butchered whose bodies they retain and disrespect. The hostages are in their hands, kept incommunicado as the worthless complicit International Red Cross refuses to demand visitation. Not worth a sou of donation.

    Israel does not hold them. They do not have them. They. Do. Not. Have. Them. 

However, the world at present is stepping with vigor into a world of egregious antisemitism, of virulent Jew hatred, willingly, energetically, and ambitious. The cycle continues and where it stops or when.....  

Why the title? In another part of a cycle of Judaism, we celebrate Passover, a time of release or escape from a life of slavery and brutality and declare ourselves to be a free nation. Not too many appreciated that for imagine what other slave populations would think and respond. Part of that celebration is the seder. Part of the seder is reading the Haggadah, the story of the Exodus and various commentaries, along with songs. One of these segments is one citing all the miracles of rescue, all the good things, the miracles which occurred "in the middle of the night". In the darkness of their lives, in the bleakness of their expectations, suddenly the Hand of G-d struck. Rescue, though again, a bit late. 

 In any case, our history is rife with middle of the night actions, so hoped for rescue. Are we not now, in an existential middle of the night situation? How about a huge lightning strike across Gaza, finding the Hamas murderers, the Islamic Jihad brutes, sparing any who are not involved? Would that not be a joyous moment!!! Resulting in a praising of the Lord as we recognize and are again grateful for His aid in our moment of need? Of His powers? However, I am beginning to doubt this rescue as I, too, remain awake staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell is life about? Why all this horror, all at the same time? How much is one to handle? Remain sane? Is this a test, to determine if we are worthy of future aid, or are our 'lacks' too great?    What? What?!!!! Explain Your thoughts and behavior to us, down here, the humans who are dependent on You right down to the bottom line. Yes, we are deficient at times, but is that not the human condition and are You not said to have the traits of mercy, of empathy, of forgiveness? Now would be a good time.

Now would be a good time to explain to me why You took Yitzy? Why remove him from a world in dire need of such as he? Why? I turn and toss in the middle of the night and in the middle of the day trying to convince myself there was a good reason for this, even if I am not up to understanding that reason - or for accepting that reason.

There is nowhere to turn in the middle of the night. I envy those who can, who can turn the switch to off and find moments of relief, of blessed not knowingness, of refuge in the dark. If I try to shunt the direction of my thoughts away, those intruding into my mind, holding it captive, and turn to happy thoughts, such as my grandchildren, it inevitably returns to the gap now present and the grief of the family.

So tell me, G-d, High and Powerful, am I, my family, Your people, not worthy of middle of the night action, for rescue from torment, from constant return of vicious hate? Are we not??

Answer me, answer all of us, so confused and in despair at the growing fear for a viable future here in America, in the nations of the world and even in embattled Israel.  Answer. With an answer of hope, of optimism, of rescue.

Hugs and kisses, sweet boy. Always and forever.  

ROUGH DAY

  Yesterday was a rough one. I have been working hard to manage my grief, my anger, in the private world and that arising from the world at large.  However, yesterday morning that effort was blown, into itty bitty pieces. Taking a shirt from a pile to be folded, my eyes spotted something which took my breath away and simultaneously the river of tears and the sucker punch of agony began again. 

A shirt from a vacation family trip to Disney, made for us, with all our names - including Yitzy. Wham!!!!! The force of a double semi rig slammed me up against a hard wall of failed denial. Yitzy was dead, gone, and never again would I, could I, see that beautiful boy again - not in the physical world anyway. Only to imagine that grin, to look at pictures and videos. Hard, folks, very hard, if not impossible, at least at this point. Still too close, too fresh, and the wound continues to seep. 

Seeking relief, an ability to continue on with the day, I called a child who put aside her grief to help me manage my own. At least here I knew we had raised good kids. They were there for each other in the difficult year, and especially during the fiercest, most difficult time of waiting for the inevitable and dealing with the agonizing aftermath. People, cherish your family. Now. Life is fickle, tragedy can strike out of nowhere, so cherish the now, not the after.  

The rough seas of the morning continued to rage. Good friends called, a catch up, checking out call after some time to recoup after the initial overwhelming darkness. G-d bless them, some having been friends practically for life and others of more recent times. All meant well and I am ever so grateful for their care and concern. They were not to know how badly the day had begun and how each call poured salt into the wound. Do not get me wrong though, as each call was therapeutic as well. Talking, sharing, all aspects of our lives, the best therapy ever.

Giving up on the private world, consigning it as yet one more day of deep, agonizing grief, I grabbed the papers, the NYT and the WSJ, and attempted to immerse myself into the worries of our world, so beset by confusion and existential threats, mostly of our own making. What a mistake! Wow!!! This world is broken, the question of possibility of mending it up in the air, with little to no time to spare in those efforts, for its survival hangs on a very thin, delicate fraying thread.

No escape anywhere. The news of the world rings the bell loud and clear re the mess of ours, of our own making, running up the tab at the Grocery   Store of Heaven, just about at its limit, awaiting recall any day soon.  No relief in sight as the intelligent members of human society seem to have either disappeared or washed their hands of it all. Cannot blame them. There is a limit to how long one can spit into the wind, getting nowhere fast, other than being drenched in the anger, the grief, the hopelessness and helplessness that is returned double, triple fold with every gust.

Here are some suggestions and bits of sensibility. 

Do not hit first, but if hit, hit back harder, thus precluding further future attempts to smack you down. If the opponent, the aggressor cannot understand or tunes out verbal attempts to mediate, then reread the above lines. At that point several well-deserved wallops might be necessary to gain attention and give them understanding.   

Recognize the truth of the situation and know your enemies well and your allies even better. Make your goals easy to grasp and your determination to achieve those goals or make safe adjustments.

Continue the fight until it is over. Truly over. Do not allow pressures of others with their own motivations push you off route. There lies danger.

 Do not get involved or fooled by false flags, particularly those with no business in these affairs, or whose blatant interests prodding them to self-serving suggestions. These suggestions will prove to be false flags and dangerous to you and your goals. Keep your goals in mind always.

   Be aware and wary of promises made by those whose fingers are crossed behind their backs. 

Understand the importance, the critical necessity of proper education.

Arrange for proper supervision of those who would see you dead, for their hate eats away at them - see to it that it does not eat you. Their hate is of a strong intensity, virulent and toxic, not easy to overcome. Thus, awareness is of critical necessity. 

  Understand that logic is inapplicable here. One must get their attention first and only then will the possibility of education be warranted.  

Do not be forced to stop with goals unachieved, yet in sight, of real possibility, even as the enemy engages in a massive effort to turn the truth, the realities aside. Keep your eye on the target and amass visual proofs of your justification and necessity to finish the job, once and for always.  

Do the best one can not to hit the bystanders. Also recognize that collateral damage is a reality. The fault is with those who placed them there in the first place.  

Keep to yourself as much as possible for you are your best ally.

 Right is not always right - until it has become the reality and then it will be accepted, with some moans and groans, but accepted it will be. Reality holds weight.

 The rest of the world can find their own way to come to a realization and acceptance of the truth, as it is, perhaps not as they wished it to be- for their own reasons.   

Without words, there is force only. After the force, then the talk.   

For those who are at sea as to what the hell is going on here, then a Hebrew saying will explain.     "Hamaven, yaven."

He who understands will understand.

The meaning is clear.

In any case, today I am going to immerse myself in a book long awaiting my attention or perhaps some painting or simply to vegetate and doze. to dream of a world, a good blessed one, where 13-year-old boys do not die of a filthy accursed disease of rhabdomyosarcoma. Where we expend our funds and brains on beneficial topics and goals. Where   efforts are directed at bettering this needy world. 

People, love your family. Cherish your friends.

I so miss my Yitzy, the wonderful man he would have made, the beautiful boy, inside and out that he was.

More hugs and kisses, Yitzy.

Forever and a day.      

"CAN'T IMAGINE"

I suppose, according to the latest fads and definitions, I am a vessel complete with bias, mostly unconscious bias. Maybe. Maybe not. I am not feeling any guilt for whatever is presumed to be there, for I treat all the same, as best I can, valuing their humanity, their goodness, shared values far more than color or religion or not, or any other factor - to the best of my ability. Is there any bias within me? Probably, but I challenge one and all to find one human being, one, only one, who has no bias whatsoever. That person, sorry to say, would be a zombie, one with no feelings at all, one of the "resurrected viruses" many a hopeful Dr. Frankenstein are fooling around with.  Bias comes from education or miseducation, from the culture of a society, from a willing, even eager, bent toward ugliness of character. 

It also involves the usage of words, enormously so.   Thus the words of the mayor of Gaza City, appointed by Hamas, obviously nonprejudiced, a fan of Israelis - not! So graciously presented in an op-ed piece within the NYT, that bastion of not quite impartial reporting, containing both implied, intrinsic bias, along with outward, vicious bias as well, replete with the Big Lie so popular with the dregs of society. So sweet, allowing of this mayor  to spill his dangerous verbal garbage in the pages of a respected newspaper. It is parallel to a situation wherein Rudolph Hoess would be given space to clear up any confusion regarding his home outside Auschwitz. He 'cannot imagine' how or why people would say such things, nor why anyone would want to destroy Auschwitz and his home, along with possibly, his family as collateral damage. 

Of course, these essays would be framed within oh such touching, targeted words and phrases, so elegant and heartfelt. Totally presenting confusion, not understanding why there is such a depth of anger and strong efforts to wipe the place off the face of this rather ugly world of ours. Then and now. He simply 'cannot imagine' that it would be okay should physical structures sheltering 'innocents' be targeted or destroyed as collateral damage. 

As if the buildings did not shelter gangs of animals rife with blood lust. As these same 'innocents' ululated with overwhelming joy, their clothing soaked with the blood of their slaughtered victims, their pockets chockfull of loot, the keys to their new cars held in their sweaty, greedy, murderous battered hands. All urges completely sated. The need for violence, for sexual satisfaction, for brutality, for proof of superiority all satisfied in one three-day orgy of savagery. And on to the next step.

 Piteous aggrieved bewilderment as to why Israel responded so severely, such a powerful retaliation. And where, for heaven's sake, was the UN, their loyal partner in these situations, ranting at the UN re the terrible criminal nation of Israel. Imagine, the gall of Israel as it erupted in anger, in grief, with a determined effort to rid the world of the worst trash of humanity, along with their allies who hurried to join in the fun.      

Well, I cannot imagine either. That one could say or write with straight face:  that he cannot imagine any sane human inflicting such terrible damage to the beautiful buildings and culture of Gaza. Ahem? What culture? The one leaving this behind their family visit! Over twenty villages left in a state of massive destruction, the residents unable to return. Those who were neither slaughtered nor taken captive.  The residents of the entire south and the entire north evacuated due to rockets and artillery sent over by Hamas and Hezbollah. The bloody remnants of unrecognizable bodies, tortured, torched to death, babies burned or murdered, rapes so vicious that the physical damage resultant was unspeakable. 

At this point words fail me, inadequate to define the strength of my feelings, the anger at the world for once again indulging in that fun game of Jew hatred. So powerful is that hatred, so much so, enough to dare to schedule a pro-Palestinian rally outside the US National Museum of the Holocaust, dedicated to its victims, sworn to safeguard   humanity, prevent a repetition of such a horror. humanity.  They even wanted free tickets to enter and further defame and destroy. Cannot get better than that, right!!! Ah, Jew hatred, a boon to the world, a great pressure relief valve.

Words, words, they can spark a revolution or tamp one down. They can demonstrate love or cut with hate. Their definitions and usage can be clear or muddied, perverted. The power of words is unmeasurable. The evil take advantage of words, causing Noah Webster to roll over many times in his grave, appealed at the misuse of language for evil purposes. It is upon us to guard very carefully, closely, to the use and misuse of words. They are meant to ennoble, inspiring, rather than conveying hopelessness.

The same words cannot possibly convey the depth and intensity of my feelings of loss, a piece of my heart missing, never ever whole again.  Yes, I know at present the wound is fresh, still bleeding, no time to heal, but you tell me, find the words which can even begin to approach the degree of my grief.

 I both dread and welcome the day, if such a day will ever be, when the wound is at least lightly scabbed and everything around does not tie back to Yitzy, a remembrance of a saying, an action, his sweet signature grin.

Yitzy, be safe up there, be a guardian to your people, to your family. Our love for you grows deeper, even as that seems impossible, so deep and intense is it already.

Very important: find a piece of chocolate and eat it for you and for me.

Hugs and kisses, my sweet boy.

   

DO WE DO THE DANCE?

 Otherwise known at times as haggling, bargaining, or beating down the seller, doing the dance is something I find aggravating and time wasting.  Much preferred by me is the simple, time saving approach of get to the point and stop wasting my time. Give me the true bottom line and let's proceed on that path. Saves a hell of a lot of time and the always questioning attitude of "Did I do the best I could do in the bargaining?"

When I walk into a car dealership or for any large purchase, I carry a blank check. Give me the best you can do, check with your boss, and if agreeable, we proceed. If not, then no harm, just have a good day and bye. That is the end there. When I turn away often times the agent takes off an inconsequential amount and then says for me to give my figures. Exactly what I hate - The Dance.  Either work with me or bye-bye and it works fine. Been there, done that with many purchases and important discussions and decisions.

However, the world does not engage in that kind of negotiations. Rather it presents extreme dictats of assumed authority and righteousness with absurd conditions, expecting the other side to either cave, immediately, or present its own absurdities. The Dance. Again. What a waste of time and energy, and far more important - of lives - when trying to end hostilities.

Need examples? Russia/Ukraine. Far left /Far right. Democracy/Authoritarianism. Israel /Hamas. These are existential matters, of the critical present and its import for the future. So why do we waste time with nonsense that obviously is unacceptable. Why not cut to the chase and save lives, improve challenged economies and avoid future catastrophic outcomes all arising from sheer stubbornness and misreading of the other side. Understand their bottomed line and tailor your expectations and demands accordingly and if all were honest and wise - is that even possible - there will be success, even quicker as the world learns to apply the formula and go with it - success and failure, unhappiness and satisfaction, bluster and truth. The time between proposal and agreement will shorten and there will be less dissatisfaction and cause for further hostilities. And move on.

Pipe dream? Impossible? Maybe. Perhaps. Certainly, it will take time and adjustment. But is it not worth a try, stop the bloodshed, the atrocities, the constant whining and destructive power of unreasonable reality ignoring behavior. Leaders must be the best we can find, rather than the dangerous pol who represents the lowest common denominator of the nation rather than the best of it.

 People, leaders, of honor and honesty, as they represent what is, rather than what is not and never will be. Or should not be at present. Example? Simply take an evaluative gander into the schoolyard level campaigns of today. All over the world. Bluster, hate mongering, falsehoods, all the current coins of the realm. Name calling. Threats. Bullying. And unfortunately, so much more. 

 It is what I call the male level of behavior, never ever truly leaving the world of the "oh yeah'. Where force rather than talk reigns. Where one is never to give in and/or to actually adjust one's vision and comprehension. Where hopelessness gains ground and tenacity as hope falls, unnoticed, by the wayside. Takes courage, means risks, but what are leaders supposed to do other than lead the nation in the best way possible.

Not to demand those leaders, to discard those false leaders - on us, as we give in to the worst of us, the lowest, meanest parts of us. Unfortunately, we have women equally as unfit to lead as are the men. They espouse the identical hate mongering, bluster, the negativity and shove us further down the wrong paths. MTG, Tlaib, Cora Bush and so many more. 

    Not doing too well in our choices for leadership, are we? That we can even contemplate the peril inherent, the absurdity, of reelecting a man sworn, openly, to destroy democracy, to imprison all opponents, who is facing trials on 91 indictments, who espoused, incited violent rebellion in the nation, treason glaring and blaring, well, there are no words indeed.

Actually, there are. I came across definition and example of the term. What is ignorance and apathy?

The answer: "“I don’t know, and I don’t care,”  

Add to that the willful stupidity, the greed, the rampant encouraged hate and here we are. A most perilous time for all. 

However, I must share this anecdote re Yitzy. Over the past few years, I have oddly developed an infinity to painting, to express emotions via color and design. Yesterday, working with a new technique, experimenting, lo and behold, a striking result. An image of Creamsicle, Yitzy's much-loved pet and my absolutely detested snake. He knew that I truly hated that snake and ran ten miles the other direction if it were removed from his glass home.

  Yitzy was also a mischievous little boy, loving to pull harmless, funny pranks. So-was the Creamsicle on my canvas another joke, and at the same time conveying a beautiful message? "I am here, still with you." I can see him clear as day, laughing   and chortling as I gaped at that Creamsicle. 

 I have chosen to accept that message, that interpretation, as reassuring me, us, that Yitzy is fine and remains with us, as he promised hours before he died. He remains alive in the eternal world, still able to pull his little jokes, laughing away and am happy, for that thought. 

So, Yitzy, my boy, thank you for the sign, the laugh - and I still hate that snake! Birds are so much better. Yes, before you ask, the shape of a mouse, Creamsicle's steak of choice, and the bird of the other canvas, were noticed. Bird watching was such a better choice of hobby!    

Love you, Yitzy. Miss you. Always will-but keep up those messages. It helps. And certainly, I will always be here to dance with you.      

WHITE WATER, WHITE KNUCKLES

 One has to be living in a cave to not understand the allusions of the title. Whitewater is a fearsome part of rafting. First one takes a sweet, silent ride, with perhaps a few bumps and tiny thrills, but then the water speeds up, foams. The roars of water falling, its potential power to destroy clear, fills the air and turns one's blood to water, to maim and kill, during the seconds of the seconds of extreme risk and why?  Is life not risky enough these days? The frantic search for extrinsic danger when there is enough, more than enough to go around, in real life, boggles the mind. Certainly, it boggles my mind.  

White water situations abound in today's reality. Will one be attacked for one's appearance or for wearing the wrong item of clothing? Are we heading towards a time of extreme differentiation or to a world where differences are banned, a bland, gray world of no hope?  Either is unacceptable, doomed to failure, complete with all the gore and danger one needs to satisfy that white water itch. For sure, there is enough inherent danger within such worlds that along with the whitewater syndrome we have the affliction of the paralytic white knuckles.

Presently, the majority of the world is at white knuckles level. It is a world where life sustenance is a challenge, accidentally or on purpose. Surety of survival is absent. A world where kill or be killed is a real mantra. A world where we have reverted to barbaric ways of life, looking upon children as tools of war, servants of perverted sex, sources of labor. A world where children are captured, used as political 'things', of no account other than to be used for some adults with twisted ideas of what must be.  

What the hell is the matter with us? How have we descended so far, become immersed in such violence and hate? Why have we allowed, even encouraged this? Why must we indulge the worst of our desires, our largest faults inherent in being human? Why do we insist on numbers to give meaning to life? Does it truly matter how many are killed or wounded, maimed for life, or simply disappeared? 

What is this term of 'equivalency'?  The loss of any life is a tragic event so what must be the loss of thousands, millions, due to our faults and lacks and thoughtlessness? Why do we consistently ignore or corrupt the humane part of humanity? The resultant, inevitable results are clear, yet so many are either blind to it or buy wholeheartedly into it or are complicit with it to varying degrees. We try to delineate the boundaries, the causes of the tragedies arising, but even then we do that incorrectly, generally discarding neutrality in favor of political advantage and the blood beat of old, ugly hatreds. WE do that. WE are the culprits. Frankly, I see only whitewater and white knuckles ahead for humanity. Will we reach that whitewater foaming so powerfully that we know we have reached above and beyond the power of our white knuckles to deliver us to safety? Worse, that time grows ever closer, ever larger, unable to be denied nor avoided.

No, I have not gone way over the top, jumped a few elephants or sharks. No, I have not deserted my people nor my homeland. I cry every day for the dead, the wounded, of my people, of lives cut brutally short, of potential thrown to the wind.   I weep for those of us left behind, drowning in our grief, in the immutability of fate. I am always seeking updates on the general situation as well as the situations of friends and family in this time of horror.  

Why must we have this constant, ugly state of fake peace and brutal war, over and over again? Why? Because at present there are no people on the opposing side with whom to negotiate realistically, sensibly, able to see both forest and trees. Who recognizes the futility of war and knows, both sides know, that compromise, painful to all, is the way, the only way, to go. However, recognize the difficulty of negotiations with negotiators who refuse compromise, who are afraid of their own people, who spew forth only viral toxic hate, threats of murder, of genocide the paths they tread. 

 The entire globe is now immersed in that hatred, spewing forth blood threats even as they do not understand the background of it all. Jews are denied minority status, denied their 'whiteness', incorrect actually, as Jews come in all colors. Hatred is contagious, freeing people from restrictions on behavior, allowing indulgences beyond the general pale, receiving approval. So hey, why not!!!   

 In the blindness of their hate, they have precluded any ability to speak up for peace within Israel   and most of world Jewry. Push too far and we will push back. Certainly now, after a brutal, barbaric massacre on Oct 7, the slaughter worthy of praise by the most perverted Nazi, and the aftermath still with us, the captives and the shrinking possibility for their survival. The mounting loss of our soldiers, the mourning of an entire nation. They attacked the very people who wanted peace, who wished for cooperation within the two peoples. The ground was soaked with their blood on Oct 7 in all the communities of the Gaza border area.  

It takes two to tango and a hell of a lot more to wage peace, rather than war. To wage peace is a whitewater white knuckles affair. Only the brave will take it up. Only the wise will see the blood and hate of the moment, of the decades, and dig deep for some wisdom. That wisdom, only that wisdom and courage will serve a constructive purpose. Again, only. only, only if the Palestinians realize the futility of their murderous goals and the advantages of joining in that true battle. To eliminate the physical battles and instead share the uncertainties and the benefits of a rocky peace, hopefully growing into a successful one, a model for the world to follow.

Pipe dreams? Maybe. Probably. But there must be an end to this. Every morning I wake up to a new count, 14 dead on Saturday. How many more before it is over? Will it indeed ever be over? Are there enough of us to fight that battle and win, against all odds? The answers are way above my pay grade, but for sure there must be those who are in that rank and can do the job - if they wish to, on both sides of this bloody curtain. If they relish a true and positive battle with the challenges of whitewater and white knuckles.

I weep as I think of my Yitzy, gone, his innocence, delivered from this ugly world which hated, hates his people, denied their humanity.  The great regret and sense of loss left behind are continuing to scar our souls. The inspiration he provided to adults and children, to Jew and non-Jew - not easily replaced or qualified to step into those empty shoes. His golden traits were cut off too soon, his light dimmed to us.     

 I curse those who cause mankind to waste their resources, to spend funds on machines of war rather than on curing the woes of mankind, to address the problems of the world. The trial of medication for his cancer might have been in time, not missed by a few days. Stupid, dangerous, inimical thinking.  

Yitzy, now it is your job to gather the forces, inspire the angels, and assail G-d. Push Him to realize that He must get involved. His people are bleeding, along with so many others. Thís must stop.

We so wish you were here on this earth with us, but know we will love you forever, remember you forever, treasure your memories and all the Yitzy stories.

Be safe and warm, Yitzy, and remain within the warmth and love of the family who awaited you and within the glow of the Lord's light.  

SLEEPING DOGS

 Most people do not know for sure whether to wake up those sleeping dogs or let them be. Certainly though, one would definitely want that sleeping dog up and totally awake should the sound of an invader be heard. As with many pithy statements purporting to passing on the wisdom of experience of old, the gifting of ancient wisdom to those in dire need of wisdom, even if incorrect. Even should that adage, that bit of 'wisdom', actually lead to, encourage and enable a great deal of unnecessary and possibly avoidable troubles.

Swivel your head, open your eyes ears, raise the level of consciousness, and honesty as well. See what we have wrought by allowing those sleeping dogs to sleep on the job, to fail at their role of guards of society and sanity.  Their responsibility to serve and protect, to defend, has long ago fallen away. What have we done?! 

We have allowed, even encouraged, lies to grow at an alarming rate. The various forms of media have gone off the deep end as they spew forth lies, egregious, dangerous, hateful lies rather than    presenting truth. These are lies so dangerously capable of totally destroying society, certainly any benevolent one. The growth of hatred between races, genders, between families and friends, religions and beliefs, grows apace and the future dims in direct proportion to the power and popularity of these so, so wrong sleeping dogs.

Antisemitism did not come out of the blue, as something that had been defeated, with just a bit of its poison remaining, hiding, ever ready to jump out during opportune times. It remained silent for the most, apart, not socially acceptable to voice   in public. Tamped down, but nevertheless, remaining strong and patient in its hidey-hole. Never, though, was it ever near death. That silence gradually weakened, sprang leaks, and gained respectability, even approval, often times dripping from the top to the bottom.

Overt displays of hatred were allowed, even were   admired and imitated. Protesters morphed into lawless, mindless mobs, and descended into the dark world of sheer hatred, mindless and violent. The hate grew in coverage and depth as the term antisemitism was discarded, replaced by the rather more vivid and truthful Jew hatred, expressed desires to literally kill all Jews, to finish the job begun by Hitler.

 Quite shocking was the fervid adoption of this animosity by upper class educated people, particularly those students in prestigious universities, recipients of a most biased education, with professors and administrators, led by a cadre of a majority of Arabs and Moslems, joined by self-hating lying to themselves Jews, and nary a Jewish student felt safe any longer on campuses, in synagogues, in centers, on the very streets. 

Oh, the dogs? Nah, sleeping away, dreaming of bones and treats, of new toys and good masters.  Not one bark or even a little, minor, low key arf.  Over 1200 Jewish citizens of Israel were slaughtered, butchered, raped, massacred by Hamas, joined by those 'innocent civilians' as they too joined in the looting, in the abuse, rape over 30 hostages admitting to it right now and not to forget those brutally raped before being killed, left to die and rot or had their mortal remains dragged, literally dragged, into Gaza, there to be held for ransom of murderers.  All were victims - children, women, teens, men, elderly, sick, handicapped - it mattered not. 

Dogs barking? Silence reigned other than the piercing of it by the voices of those being slaughtered. Those being tortured, butchered, with knives, guns, axes, bullets, burned alive, suffocated - the true side of these 'innocent civilians' who never were. The dogs who barked re the numbers killed were quickly silenced by those who claimed that all were those elusive innocents, rather than the larger amount being Hamas, hence should not be counted as civilians. Finally, if the enemy purposely, cold bloodedly, parked themselves in the midst of civilians, then whose fault is it when they are killed? 

Where are the tears for the Israeli children orphaned after seeing parents slaughtered before their eyes. The adults abused, worried for their children, their spouses, their elderly parents, their babies. Nope, dogs silent again. Leave silent dogs sleeping is apparently the go-to strategy here.   

Seems to me there are many places in the world where sleeping dogs awaken and bark furiously, but no one cares. No one pays attention. Not when the Jews are guaranteed to be condemned, so much better for the aggressors! More exciting so never mind the poor women of Darfur trying to keep their skeletal children alive. Or the Sudan. Ethiopia.  Russia and Ukraine. The women of Afghanistan and Iran. The LGBTQ+ in Moslem lands. Oh, there the dogs bark, but are ignored, for Israel is over there. So much more bang for the buck for the bark or the non-bark!  

What further amazes me is how the world seems to be unaware of the miraculous 2 day business in Gaza. Food, water, fuel, all supposedly running out in two days -and it never does. Amazing!

Today, tonite, I write of matters other than Yitzy, hoping I will be able to sleep tonite. So far not so good. And is it wrong of me to say that this boy was too pure for this world and its ugliness? Maybe that is perhaps why G-d took him away.  Maybe. But I continue to remain unable to wrap my head around this tragedy. The wound, the anger, the loss is too close, too overpowering, perhaps never ever to fade even a tiny bit. I doubt this sharp cut will ever be dulled - ever. 

Yitzy, sweet boy - I love you, forever.

Yitzy, we will always remember you.

Yitzy, the world is poorer for our loss.

Sleep tight.

   

$24.90

  Hate comes cheap these days. For $24.90 you can buy a flag of the Arrow Cross Party, a particularly nasty enthusiastic antisemitic participant in the slaying of Jews, good partners of the Nazi murderers. Just think of it, that and so much more can be bought, for additional oh so reasonable sums, indulge in your violent Jewhatred, all the while doing it undercover. Your Jewish neighbor will remain under the false impression that you are a friend, and now stands in a perilous situation. Yup, all that and more to be found on the magical site of wonder known as Amazon. Where anything can be found and bought. Simply describe it or name it and off you go on your treasure hunt.

Or, if you prefer, go the other end of this oh so fascinating soul delighting Jewhatred and pay through the nose for your child at such an academically oriented university to become infected by and fall victim to virulent Jewhatred. So powerful is its draw that it even enmeshes Jews in a filthy swamp of self-denial and frantic efforts either to disguise who they are or think that divesting oneself of support of a state called Israel actually makes a difference to the killers you march alongside, shouting, threatening just as loudly and vehemently as they do.

 Foolish, dangerous foolishness. The only fact that remains true is that this is an agenda of jewhatred, viral and toxic and any Jew, even those who try to be the "good Jew", oh so useful to the murderers, will discover the truth - too late. In the meantime, buying into this oh so popular ancient trope of hate allows one to indulge in the realization of formerly banned actions. Now - run wild, curse, deface, threaten and harass, hit, the harder the better, throw in some violent swatting and the joy of bomb threats or even a bomb or two -just go wild -no limits, and all legit. Such joy. Their parents must be oh so proud. 

Hey, one does not even have to enrich Amazon, for get a cardboard or two and create your own homemade inspirational hate spreading sign. Even perhaps write the slogan on the back side of a kidnapped poster right there for the taking, the shredding, the tearing down. Oh yes, the aura, the intensity of self-satisfaction, for so clever are you, free of restrictions. You can indulge in the actualization of your wildest dreams. 

Every Jew, no matter how assimilated, no matter position in society, has these fears, a generational genetic trait, a trauma that has impacted the very genes of Jews. The saying "you can run, but you cannot hide" is engrained in the very soul. History has proven these fears to be real, to be actual. Every crisis in society, every war, every crusade, every nationalistic movement, any 'dedicated' patriotic force, any deranged scientist looking for a home - the hatred for Jews, the slaughter of Jews, the expulsion of Jews from the ranks of humanity - all there for the taking, the imitation, the going one step above and beyond.

While every human loves to be proven correct in a disagreement or theory, this is one case of wishing it were not so. For years I have been shouting, writing, talking, demanding attention - the hate was here; it always was, it grows exponentially and has, once again, achieved societal approval. Supposedly educated 'liberal' personalities join the growing flow of people to the 'cause'. Undereducated or uninformed follow along, for the feeling of empowerment, for allowing action on their worst tendencies. 

Today, the best writers and analysts write of the peril of this once again outwardly openly displayed Jewhatred, its actualization. Now, that which was formerly hidden, deemed shameful, declassee has become a belief approved and growing in might.  

 Here we go again. 

When Bret Stephens writes that his mother, as she watched on TV the displays of hate, said, "I was born in hiding. I don't want to die in hiding."

Exactly so.

Especially when he ends the essay with this: 

"I don't think my mom will die in hiding. I wonder about my kids."

"America has been good to jews ...But if there's one lesson of Jewish history, it's that nothing good stays - and why we still say at the end of every Passover seder - "Next year in Jerusalem."  

Yitzy, sweet boy, this is the only thing which gives me an ironic understanding and even a degree of relief that at least you are out of this. One less for me to worry about as we step further into an ever more uncertain future. You were, are, too good for this ugly world. Now, your charge is to watch over the remaining family down here in this troubled world. To speak up for humanity, the deserving of rescue, even as did our forefather, Abraham. 

We remember you, always cry for our loss. We ask that you remember us, remind that stubborn One up there that humanity needs Him back, off vacation mode, and Now! 

Yitzchak Elimelech, my heart remains broken. Hugs and kisses to you, my sweet, golden boy.

PERHAPS

 It is extremely difficult to even think of beginning to be able to hear and feel the words of comfort and consolation expressed by so many. These words come from so many, from long known friends to random people we had never known or had long ago lost contact. They came from people Yitzy had met during his passage through the last fateful year of his life. 

They came from people he had met, somewhere, at some time, interacting with them, for varying periods and in various activities. perhaps baseball, or bird watching as he discussed so knowledgeably re birds with fellow watchers, mainly adults. Whatever the activity and duration, the same words came through. These were the very same words we ourselves used to describe Yitzy, his wonderful, beautiful, amazing self. 

The signature infectious grin. The generosity of his soul. The humbleness within, never quite understanding why dads would introduce their sons to him at baseball. How exceptional was the depth and sincerity of his faith, accepting the word and decision of his fate, so unfair, so devastating to so many, and why? Because his G-d had so decreed and after much thought, he was okay with it, for thus G-d had decided and thus, it was correct and needed to be accepted, no matter the difficulty contained within that acceptance. He imparted strength to his parents during those horrible last moments and days, doing his best to interact with them, to state clearly his wish for a Torah to be written in his name, for people to know he would always be with them, and but one other wish.   Please, do not forget him. 

As if. 

My heart is breaking all over again, as the tears run down my face, and I need to take a break for a bit before I can continue. 

 As we sat in the house of mourning, the shiva period, the family was inundated by a flood of those who came to share in the sadness, to ease the suffering, to tell their own their Yitzy stories, to   simply be there. They flew, they drove, they simply flooded in. From the nurses and health personnel   who had so wonderfully taken care of Yitzy in the hospital, who loved him, and came to share that love as they came to the house of shiva. Their stories made us laugh and cry at one and the same time.     

At times we simply flipped through the postings from people who knew Yitzy. There were so many, be it on Facebook, or What's App or through emails. People who could not be there or who needed or wished to relay their own interactions with Yitzy. Beautiful tributes to Yitzy. In his too short a life, he has influenced so many, not by trying, but simply by being Yitzy. Such a loss to us, to the world at large, for what could this child not have achieved had he been allowed to remain with us, in a world so desperately in need of such as he.  

People then knew that our words describing Yitzy, the words of others delineating their own impressions and interactions with Yitzy, were true. This young man touched so many.  I have previously shared some of the writings about him. Here is yet another, found by his mom, our daughter, not in-law, but in love and admiration.    Writing about the 'teenager' - even as to me he was a child, but perhaps we were all wrong. Perhaps he was an old soul in a young body, and his purpose on earth, perhaps his very "Yitzyness" was to shed   love and inspiration. 

Not blessed so much for us, in our deep grief, but we could take some comfort in the thought. Just maybe, maybe, we could begin to open our broken hearts to some repair, never ever to be fully whole again, but to take joy in his very being, in the privilege it was to know and love him, this bundle of supposedly contradictory characteristics and traits, as always and forever, to adults, to classmates, to family, just Yitzy.

Finally, I wish to humbly thank all who have sent beautiful words of comfort to the family, and to me personally. I, we, are so very touched by the many who contributed to the writing of that Torah. The task to thank all individually is a difficult one, not sure I am up to it, at least at present, but please, know, that I am ever so grateful for and appreciative of your words, for your kindness and thoughtfulness, for your generosity. May G-d bless you all.

  "I just saw this Facebook post by a woman we met when we were in CHOP for radiation, I can’t believe how nice it is!'(These are Chan's words as she found and passed along this passage.)

"This post has been one of hardest to articulate mostly because it doesn’t even seem real. During our time in radiation, we met some of the most amazing children and families, we connected, shared stories, cheered our kiddos on and of course commiserated on our situations. Sitting in that waiting room daily, began to feel familiar. One of the most familiar and amazing things was to see one the best smiles I have ever seen in my whole life from the sweetest teenager, Yitzy. His smile could light up and entire room, even on the days you could tell he didn’t feel well as he was tackling Chemo and radiation at the same time, he would always give the biggest smile and wave. We were so incredibly lucky to spend time talking to him and getting to know he was an amazing baseball player and also the coolest drone flyer — he captured the coolest videos of Philadelphia and we were so gracious that he shared them with us. His mom, Chana and I connected very quickly and she inspired me from our first conversation, she is a fierce advocate for her amazing son and such a sweet friend from the beginning. A few weeks ago we found out Yitzy’s cancer had spread, we hoped and prayed for a miracle, with the most heartbreaking words that miracle never came. I can say we are beyond honored that we got meet and to know Yitzy, and he will forever be a part of our hearts and life and his infectious smile will live on forever in our mind and we will forever honor him and his life.❤🎗"

ANGER DESPAIR A NOTE OF COMFORT

 I am angry. No doubt about it. I have even spoken with several rabbis re that anger. It is there, a great big elephant in the living room of my heart and soul. It is a huge lump in my throat and a constant voice in my head shouting words of anger, questions of confusion, at the One who is supposed to hear our prayers, feel our needs, and answer with positive replies. Yes, there are times we get a negative answer, but at least there are points of justification, but where is justification for a death of a 13 year old boy, a true golden boy, one who inspired even adults to push themselves, to become better people? There is none and all attempts to explain this death away are useless against the anger. Will it ever dissipate? I hope so. I truly do, though honestly, I cannot foresee a complete erasure for always a bit of it will remain. Forever. 

When I look around, seeking to disappear into something to relieve my mind, lighten the burden of this anger, this irreplaceable loss, all I find are more scenes inciting despair and I wonder, when the hell will the One Above ever return from vacation. Is the divine cell phone on mute, airplane mode, shut off completely? Does He not hear the cries of His people, caught once again in a maelstrom of hate, of antagonism, of a battle for their very lives? Once again, the ugliness of Jew hatred, disguised with a more polite term of antisemitism, a thin, poor disguise, rises to the surface, bold and open - and approved by too many. 

Mayhem, violence, growing uncertainty, and for sure, a terrible growth of fear, a sense of grief that once again we find ourselves alone in a frightening reality, a world with no heart and a blackened soul. Any attempt to defend ourselves, to push for justice, is spit upon, demeaned, debased and delegitimized. Antisemitism, increased by 337% since the monstrous massacre of Oct 7. on top of the already alarming rise prior to that infamous day and deepens. Israel's attempts to destroy the soulless enemy who desires the death of all Jews, to rescue the hostages brutally kidnapped, subjected to physical and emotional torture, to starvation, children and elderly as well, are despised and belittled, conflated with islamophobia without exception.          

It is ironic that movies and all media presentations of Holocaust related topics are growing in favor and attendance is strong. The truth of active, in your face antisemitism, its current reality, never bothers those who coo and praise these movies. Not seen is the glaring, blinding truth, that the ugliness, the truth, of these movies are right here. Now. With a deadly forecast of good weather for its growth. Many wish to emulate that family in The Zone of Interest, that sweet, complacent, proud family, deaf to the cries from over the garden wall, blind to the maimed and scent not the smell of hate, the reek of mistreatment, the odor of burning human flesh, smug, secure in their prize and societal approval. The parallel, so blatant, is unseen or willfully ignored, even praised behind closed doors, ever opening doors and windows to free that hate and violence, that inhumanity to fly free once again.  

Once again we Jews find ourselves thinking, wondering, should we have our go bags ready. Some of us do, but the larger question is where do we go? Apparently, the world has united in one realm - that of hatred of Jews and their ever-apparent guilt for all wrongs of the world. Where, then, is refuge? Even Israel is no sure answer, for those howling voices demanding the genocide of Jewry grow louder and louder, more vociferous and   approved.   

Hence the fear and uncertainty within Jewish communities round the world. Hence those Jews who forget they are part and parcel of Jewry, and they too will be out in the storm of hatred directed at Jews, No exceptions.  

However, we will take comfort as we have been there, done that, enough times throughout the millennia and know we will survive. Somehow, G-d finally, always, returns from one of His frequent, ill-timed vacations and responds to the cries and needs of His people. We have been exiled before and we have returned before. We will always hold that Promised Land, our Homeland, deep within, through troubles and prosperity. To that land we will return and rebuild. No matter what. That is a nation's note of comfort through the ages. Maybe even more so now as peering into our rear- view mirrors we see a tailing shadow, growing ever closer and clearer, a shadow replete with hope, with a brightness shedding goodness and faith upon all before it. That is a note of comfort for us.   

The personal note or sign or hope is a personal one to the family. The cardinal has long been a favorite bird for us. It seems to find us wherever we are, be it on a birdwatching trek of Yitzy or simply to fly into some tree or garden where we are.      

 When my father died, a cardinal appeared in the front garden of my daughter's home, directly in front of where my mother would sit and gaze out the window. Every day it sent my mom a message from the love of her life, an assurance that he was there for her and awaited her - always and forever. Sure enough a few days after she died, there were two cardinals, always together, one, the bigger one flying protectively alongside. Always together, For eternity. Two souls forever entwined in goodness and love.    

  Now our Yitzy has been stolen away from us. We are bereft, in deep overwhelming grief. No relief in sight. The day before we left to return home, Gerry and I saw a cardinal, flying right before our eyes.  That night my mother came to me in a dream and told me that Yitzy was with them now, together, already warmly enveloped within the love of all who greeted him.  

Comfort to me, to all of us as far as its note of comfort can go at this time of sharp and painful, cutting grief. But there it is and here I gratefully welcome it. Coincidence? We believe not, for once, yes, twice, maybe, but again - Nope. Not coincidence but rather a note of desperately needed comfort.

Yitzy, we so love you, so miss you, but ae comforted that you are not alone.

You are always loved and always with us.    

WORDS AGAIN

The words which follow are not mine. We have been writing all the ideas that are found within, but we have run up against the disbelief that one child could have been so special, so capable of mixing all areas, meshing them together into an outstanding, unusual pure soul and little boy and young man at one and the same time.

These are the words of a friend of Yitzy's father, my son, and ring loud and clear. The loss of Yitzy, his golden presence, is a loss not only to his immediate family and their circle of friends and family at large, but to the world, all the wonderful ideas and role modeling he could have provided. G-d had other ideas, inexplicable to us, very much so, but here is a bit of what Yitzy was and always will be.

I beg pardon of the writer for using his words without asking him, but I will not publish his name. It is all for the sake of shamayim, that we understand the loss, the deep wound left behind.

 "I was trying to find the words when I was at the house the other day, but they just wouldn't come to me. I don't know if anything I can say will help you in this time, but there were just a few thoughts I had I wanted to express. 

I didn't know Yitzy that well. Before all this, he was my friend's son, who was a sweet boy who was about 27 years younger than me. A few years ago, your father told me he was a better baseball player than Yehuda, but I didn't believe it. That was really all I knew. Over the last year plus, I heard all kinds of stories about him, and I started having trouble with them. They seem to describe different people. The superstar ballplayer is never the same person as the birdwatchers, the sweet kind boy, who was both a serious learner as well as being funny and mischievous at times. These are three different people. The same guy who was friends with his nurses, and his Rebbeim, the cool kids and the awkward kids. They all loved him because he loved them and he was so genuinely comfortable with himself, that he didn't have to pretend to be in anything or anyone else the way that most of us do. That's both a testament to him, and to you and your wife in how you raised him. I can't tell you I spent so much time with him, I obviously did not. But hearing from everyone who did how much he inspired them blows me away. And it they aren't just saying it, they are all telling stories and citing examples of what he did or said. The example he set, and the inspiration he provided is real, and will not be forgotten. 

The last thought I had was about you and your family. Throughout this long saga, you guys have been an inspiration. Calm and quiet, strong and dignified, you your wife and your children are role models in how to deal with unbelievable challenges and adversity with faith and steadfastness. 

Hashem should bring you comfort, and if there is anything at all I can do to help in any way, please just ask."

Words can in fact, say much.

Rest in peace, my Yitzy. 

Yitzchok Elimelech, we miss you so.

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN

  Sorry for the lack of posting yesterday, but we were on the road again, heading to our home, confused, grief stricken, unsure of what follows, but on the way home again, though to a very different home. Yitzy did not live with us, at least physically, but he would visit, and in fact, was supposed to come this January and engage in his love of kayaking. So much for plans of people when they come up against the plans of a higher power. A power which has done us wrong in taking a bright light, a hope for a future, a child of pure heart and soul. Cherished by all. A child who will be mourned and missed forever by family and friends.

This is also a child who will continue to live on within his family. Stories of his achievements, his character, his mischievous pranks, his sense of humor, his deep faith and willingness to accept the apparent wishes and decrees of his G-d. A brave soul, far braver than I and in fact, most adults as well. 

Where does one go to try to understand or accept what has happened? Is there, in fact, any manner in which one can be 'ok' with the event of this year, 2023. How does one reconcile the active, vital child of 2022 with the shadow of himself by end of life? Too weak to do much of anything, his last burst of energy was spent in celebrating Chanuka, typical of him and his deep faith. His family with him, laughing with a bittersweet sound, with tears of acid, knowing this was the end. No more could be done. But how in the name of everything, how does one resign oneself to the most unjust situation where a boy of 13 is going to die, after a year of such strong battle? How? Is there an answer? Anywhere? I fear not.

And so, I am left with a load of anger and bitterness. A sense of helplessness, a sense of failure, that I could not do anything to prevent such a miserable act. How could I, a mother, a grandmother, fail in the most important duty of these roles? How could I not protect my kids? Not protect them with my own life. Was that not a major, the prime, responsibility of parent and grandparent? 

How do I manage my own anger and loss even as I must be there for the stricken family? How to be a supportive pillar for them in this moment of stark grief, when this column of support has its own deep cracks? How do we, as a family, edge around that deep chasm within our very heart? Why is Yitzy not running down the stairs on the way to one of his many activities, be it a baseball game, a meeting with a friend, going to school, sharing a moment with a sibling, reading a book along with his mom, off on one of their beloved nature walks with his father, wrestling with his brother or playing a game with his sisters. Or praying with deep devotion, wearing his beloved black hat. The energy and joy of life, in life were evident, so bright, so heartwarming and now, now, where the hell are they?    

 Yet there it is. A reality so surreal, so unfathomable. Where is the right path to follow now? How do we find it? How do we remain on it? Will it help heal or at least lessen the sharpness of the agony, of the gaping wound in our lives? A most unhealable of wounds.   

Personally, I am seeking that road myself, suffused with anger and grief. So much so that the words   of comfort, of reassurance, of faith and acceptance, all well-meant, are falling on deafened ears and an unreceptive heart. The rabbis with whom I have spoken reassure me that acceptance will come, that my anger is good, even expected. That anger means I am in discussion and relationship with the One Above. Humpf! Presently our communication is rather limited, stiff at best.  

The road ahead is long and hard. There will be advances and backsteps, but the hope is that we all will find the way, separately and as a family. How, when, the timing and success remain unknown, but the hope must be there.

The notes and donations to the Torah for Yitzy are heartwarming and we thank you all, appreciate them, and will cherish them even more as time goes on. To respond individually is difficult and cannot promise that I, myself, or any of us, will be able at present certainly, to respond to each person individually, but know that we heard your words, as we read them, and thank you for those very same words and the spirit in which they are meant.   

Yitzchok Elimelech, we miss you so.

THE FIRST SHABBAT

  

 Tonight, we will be in a different world. Tonight, as we bless the Shabbat, we will not be the same. It will be a family gathered together, but not for good cause. Not to celebrate a Chag, not to attend a graduation or important, joyous event. No, we were there to share in the grief, the endless grief, forever to be felt, sharp and painful. We were there to bury a 13 year old boy, to be at his levaya and kever (funeral ceremony and burial) a trip we  should have not had to take - ever, for anyone. And yet there we were and here we will be tonight.

It will be a bittersweet Shabbat meal, filled with the noise of a family, filled with silent tears of siblings missing their youngest brother. It will be the silent tears of parents grievously wounded by the loss of a beloved child; a wound forever sharp, forever painful. There will also be laughter as we reminisce with Yitzy stories. The special gifts he had, his warmth, his love, his faith, the friendship he had with others, from children to contemporaries to adults. Everyone loved Yitzy for there was nothing not to love - except perhaps for his passionate love of chocolate and candy. 

Needless to say, Gerry and I are distraught, looking for Yitzy, for his grin, for his hugs, given at a run, off to myriad activities, as involved in birdwatching as he was in sports, especially baseball, a super athlete and a brilliant student who still did not love homework - but did it anyway, even if in the last four minutes before running off to school. His oh so valiant efforts to return to school, giving us hope that a return to health and life would be forthcoming. Now - a huge gap in the world will forever be there for us.

The outpouring of love has been overwhelming. Yitzy's last wish was for a Torah to be written and thus we are so doing. We are raising money for it, and Yitzy told us to accept all contributions from a penny to a billion. The more who contribute the better, for taking part, being part, of the writing of a Torah from start to finish, being there or zooming on its beautiful entry into its new home - one of the biggest mitsvahs, good deed, that anyone can do.

We invite all who can, participate and feel the warmth of the grin of Yitzy as he watches from Above. Feel the warmth within that one has upon performing, partaking, in a righteous deed. The link is:https://www.charidy.com/yitzystorah

Perhaps if enough of us remaining on this tainted, confused, imperfect world realize what is of true value and what is nonsense, perhaps, maybe, just maybe there can indeed be a true striving for peace and the bloodshed halted. All those in captivity to return whole, sane, to their families. All the misguided to finally absorb the truth and turn away from those who promulgate the hate, that gory, barbaric emotion which only adds more violence and destruction to an already overburdened world.

Name after name of brave soldiers, gone before their time to join a sacred circle of heroes who gave their lives for Kiddush Hashem. But why, why must we continue to carry this hateful burden upon our weary shoulders? Why and where is it written that to be a Jew means, forever, to suffer, always be uncertain about the present and the future, whether once again toxic antisemitism will rise to top of the reeking waste pile, again, to wreak havoc, death, all the evils of the world directed upon the Jews. 

Why is that evil one of the most guaranteed phenomena of life itself - a least for the Jews. Why must the sad tones of Rachel weeping for her children, mourning, awaiting their return, always be heard in the background, growing and receding, but always there. When will Rachel ever be comforted again, to see the return of her children to their undisputed homeland?  To live in peace, with G-d, with all peoples of the world and truly be a light unto nations as we live a good and godly life. When?

And once again, and for always, a heartfelt thank you from Gerry and I, from Yitzy's immediate family, for being with us, for praying for him, for remembering him and for helping us to fulfill his last wish.    https://www.charidy.com/yitzystorah

I had to add this in, a response to the death of Yitzy, one of his baseball coaches.

Shocked and saddened to hear of the passing of one of my former Squirrel Hill players Yitzy Sutofsky. He was an awesome kid and tremendous ball player who packed quite a punch in a small package. My heart aches for his family, friends and loved ones. May his memory be a blessing.

PROCRASTINATION

  Good morning. Or is it. Normally I am sitting by my computer at a godawful early hour and typing away at my posting. After a futile attempt to sleep, unsure where my golden boy was sleeping, for was his passing procedure complete or not - I came down to write. And found myself perusing articles and sites hitherto unknown to me. I read myriad presentations of the news of the world, yet my fingers refused to type and my brain, such as it is, refused to allow me to compilate sentences, one coherent thought to get me on my way. 

How does one write when the heart is shattered, not broken, but in tiny pieces. How does one react when suddenly Yitzy's voice is heard singing rather enthusiastically, a favorite song of his, and the joy was heard in that voice. Then the immediate letdown and a quiet return to conversation. 

Yitzy's mission on earth was done and G-d called him back, too pure to remain in the ugliness of the world today. Perhaps there is a miracle in that one day his words or influence will cause someone to do or not do something of major existential importance. Maybe, but at present I find no deep comfort in those words for Yitzy was ours. Little boys are not entrusted with such heavy duties.  

Back to the blank slate. What more can I say? The entire world seems to have focused on hatred of Jews, even if that hate is based on totally incorrect and self contradictory content. All sorts of brouhahas are erupting with boycotts and marches and hearings and committees, but the end result will be either a settling down if the hatemongers are truly shut down and educators are true educators, not propogandists of vile prejudice or it will grow like the monstrous horror it is and well, been there, done that, haven't we? 

Well, I certainly am not blank slate now, but perhaps it would have been better if I were, at least for today. 

Again, a thank you to all who were so gracious in their help and comfort, in the sharing of our sorrow with us and the laughter as we each told our favorite Yitzy stories. 

Take a look at the website for Yitzy's Torah, his last wish. Please donate what you can and share in the mitzvah. 

Yitzy's Torah (charidy.com)

PRAYERS AND LOVE

 The words of the title sum up the gist of the warm words we received yesterday. We, I, especially, were touched to my soul as so many former students, my educational kids, as I used to call them, sent words of comfort and prayer. Many others remarked that they had followed the year's terrible journey as we entered deeper and deeper into a world of despair and darkness, even as we hoped, so hoped, so prayed, so demanded, so shouted for a cure, a reprieve for Yitzy and a further sharing of his goodness with this needy world we occupy. 

There is no smoothing over or denying that words alone cannot comfort, and at times there are no words possible at all. Most words meant and said in good will actually carry naught that the mourning, the bereaved can internalize. the wounds are too fresh and deep at this point. However, that they were sent, that so many care and take the time to write. As days and weeks and months pass, these same seemingly 'useless' words are so blatantly not useless. They are anchors to others, to life, a reminder that we Jews and those who truly care for us, will take the time to show that care, that love and empathy, that which the world so desperately needs in huge quantities.

My own family asked me how I could write today when I am so grief stricken, so lost in a world bereft of Yitzy, his grin, his hugs, his sheer brilliance and talent, his faith and his unbelievable love of Nature, a gift from G-d in his thinking. So innocent, so pure, so beloved by kids and adults. It was amazing and heartbreaking to watch his classmates struggling to lift shovels and try to fill in his kever (burial place). That grief will be with me forever, at least as long as I live.  

 However, I knew that I cannot reman stuck in this deep black hole, must pull myself out for I need to be there for others. How? I turned to words, the same words I have yet to fully take in, absorb the comfort they are meant to provide, looking deep within my soul, deep within myself to help myself find those necessary words. Words meant to comfort myself as well as transmit my feelings and thoughts to others. Word have served me well through the years of my life so once again, I turn to them.

The isolation one feels upon a loss of a loved one, particularly one which should never have been, way out of order, is to feel alone in the midst of a crowd, even with other mourners. Each loss is felt differently within each mourner, fittingly so, for each is bereft on a different level with differing concerns. It is a grief peculiar unto oneself, alone, in the midst of grieving others. It must be borne bravely, even if angrily and confused.

It is a hard time to be a Jew.   To quote,"Jewish families are feeling isolated and scared." More tomorrow. My words have run out other than thank all of you for your kindness.

Yitzy's Torah (charidy.com)

BARUCH DAYAN EMET

  Blessed be He, the true judge.

a wonderful, sweet, golden boy, who had a deep faith, deeper than many, than most, who accepted his sentence to die as "okay, because if G-d so decided, it must be right". The hoe in our lvies will never be filled, the gap in our family will remain forever. The world has a great loss of a pure soul, too pure to remain here with us, even as he fought so hard against his cancer, to remain with his  family who struggled so hard along with  him. 

Remember him for us.

DARKNESS

 Our world today is surrounded by a huge area of darkness. This darkness is not a phenomenon of Nature, but rather one totally manmade and powered. Nor is it new, but rather a reversion to a shameful flaw in mankind, one that should have long ago been stricken from the lexicon of approved vocabulary and behavior. And yet, it has not and sadly, I believe will never be. Instead, there is a continuing vicious pattern wherein this flaw remains in uneasy stasis until some barbarian resurrects it and it blossoms and blooms. 

The worst of mankind is celebrated, as the scum of humanity rises to the top. The rank odor this scum emits is ignored and then savored. Its poisonous reek infects those who breathe of its noxious air, ever deeper, and rather than discarding this scum, it is celebrated. Its acceptance pleases the worst of humanity for it declares void all the rules of civilization, of true progress over the millennia.

The hard-won ethical values and behavior of the ethos of the world's nations, were discarded, shredded, twisted beyond recognition. People returned to the ugly side of mankind, resurrecting that which had been tamped down, and the eternal ugliness of antisemitism, plain speak - Jew hatred - emerged in full bloom and blossom, wholly adopted by growing numbers within a formerly decent society. 

That which had been discarded, now became a treasure to unfold, and the worst, the very lowest, basest, worst of humanity became the vogue, even as it released all rules and restraints on appropriate social behavior. What was then forthcoming with bold defiance and then acceptance was the roar of the crowd demanding genocide of the Jewish people. Same old, same old, a handy tool for evil, a deflective tool for leaders who have failed at their jobs. 

Apparently, this ugliness is part of the genetic makeup of evil troglodytes. Their 15 minutes of fame are rife with disaster and bloodshed. It is with voracious appetite stimulated by vitriolic invective and deeds, that the growth of this hatred is fed. The inevitable result:  death to the Jews once again, and for always. This all evil allowing hatred, a dangerous virus of humanity and decency, frees all to indulge their worst traits and desires. It is a part of the past which hangs on to future possibilities and loves to find its way to a very active present.

 The outcome is revealed, made very clear, by gathering hate maddened crowds, mobs, controlled by instigators, who chant of genocide, enabled by adults who should know better - and do. Suddenly dehumanizing groups of people has become okay - as long as that group is Jewish. Try the same tactics and ramp up violent attacks in streets, institutions, a similar chant of genocide, but with a different minority group and the world rises in indignation.   So kind, so caring - but not if they are Jewish. Butchery is okayed, even recommended and praised. Sheer barbarity is ignored even as organizations become deaf, dumb and blind, refusing to speak out against violence aimed and perpetrated upon Jews. Not simply indignities, schoolyard taunts, but real wet blood. Lots of it. No Hollywood fakes here. Streets begin, once again, ever again, to run with the blood of Jews sacrificed on the altar of savagery.

The world is in darkness. The separation of light and dark of Creation has gone awry, darkness now dominant. The darkness seeped into the air, seeped into the first humans and Cain killed his brother, Abel, and so it has continued. Except this time, after an ugly realization that this Jew hatred is alive and flourishing, we are prepared and will fight with every tool in our toolbox, with words and hands.   Attuned, we will not allow this to get worse. Justice is demanded. Perpetrators, enablers will receive or feel the blows of our anger and our strength.   A world which accepts Jew hatred is unacceptable and will be vanquished. 

Israel's right to defend itself is a fact. The fault of dead civilians is upon the Gazans who allowed Hamas to rule, allowed them to build war redoubts among them. It is upon the UN, that bastion of Jew hatred, who allowed its buildings to store arms and ammunition, entrances to tunnels. The silence re the crimes against humanity by Hamas, the brutality   with hostages, where are the outraged voices?  Silence. Deafening, dark silence.   Darkness has shrouded the world, keeping decency at bay and has allowed for a thriving evil to grow at giant rates with horrid consequences.

The darkness also has invaded my personal world. For a year, my hero, my 13-year-old grandson, has valiantly fought this awful cancer, ugly and vicious   but the battle has been lost and we are now told, after a week and a half of a rally and a possibility of a compassionate drug, that time has run out.  Once again, we are returning to Pittsburgh, precipitated by an urgent call:  "come back, for it is a matter of hours." So again, with tears in our eyes, with shattered pieces of our hearts littering the floor, we   are on our way early this morning. Again.

Can we hope for a miracle? I hope so. We must continue prayers for that miracle.    

YITZCHOK ELIMELECH BEN CHANA  SARA.