M'Kor

I feel crushed by the news that Congregation M’Kor Shalom, a local synagogue near and dear to my heart, will be shutting its doors.

It will be merging with another congregation (Temple Emanuel) nearby, as both are dealing with declining memberships but are optimistic that this partnership will create a thriving community for both sets of members once again.

For that, I am happy, but I will miss the frequent reminders of what M’Kor did for me in the early years of motherhood, which I often think about as I pass by while driving around town.

Only because of the close proximity to my first house did I step into M’Kor at all; I felt drawn to it because I could literally see the synagogue from my front window, and it opened the same year as I was looking for a nursery school for my almost-3-year-old son.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I checked it out, but right away I felt an energy that was refreshing and joyous. The kids appeared engaged, and I could hear lots of laughing; the teachers were smiling and seemed nurturing; and the Jewish theme in artwork, song and storytelling and the embracing of holidays was something I had never known and was so excited about not only for my kids, but for me, too.

We enrolled Michael in summer camp, and he stayed at M’Kor for a variety of nursery school and enrichment programs, followed by Allison who started earlier with me in “Mommy and me” classes and then Amy, who stayed through kindergarten, for a grand total of about 11 years of programming, holiday celebrations, playdates, birthday parties, wonderful friendships and a whole lot of insight.

This is where I first came to understand the phrase: “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child."

Although not a youngster at 30 when I ventured in to M’Kor initially with 2 little ones in tow, I was nearly clueless when it came to knowledge about babies or toddlers. Until giving birth to my own kids, I had only briefly spent time with younger people: I had never changed a diaper, put anyone to bed or had any responsibility whatsoever for anyone other than myself.

The fact of the matter is that not only was I in the dark about the physical care of children, but I also didn’t know anything about emotional wellness.

The only positive spin I can put on my lack of experience and understanding is that at least I was aware that I knew nothing about this motherhood gig...but I was open to learning.  

My M’Kor years, in retrospect, felt like daily mom coaching. It was an ongoing collaboration between smart and savvy childhood experts and me (and other moms who were open to it), working together to raise my children so they’d become well-adjusted and develop with confidence and a sense of independence.  

The teachers made it all happen, always willing to spend the time and share with me how my kids were doing in class, from those happy and proud moments I could kvell over to those more challenging issues that I needed to learn how to address, including but not limited to their separation anxiety, shyness, not going to the potty, and acting out.   

They weren’t reprimanding me (or if they were, I blocked that out) so I didn’t feel under attack; they were moving me along to do what my kids needed, such as my making more playdates for them, seeing life through their eyes, learning how to effectively discipline, understanding the importance of consistency, and much, much more.   

I formed meaningful friendships during those years with my kids’ friends’ moms, teachers and as a result of experiencing the generosity of spirit and kindness of others. Women would reach out to me when they’d see me struggle and say, “I know what that’s like...don’t worry” or “This won’t last forever,” or “Let’s go out to lunch,” and flash a warm smile my way. It all felt so good to receive, and to give back, too.     

M'Kor was the first place I got involved with as a mom and where I met and spent time with other moms, other than my terrific neighbors. It set the stage for enjoying Jewish life in a community and with my family. The teachers equipped me with their wisdom and provided tools that I was able to put into practice. All this did more for me than I could ever fully express.  

This place was, without a doubt, where I started to grow up.

Someone can buy this building, tear it down, and there will be no trace of it...except in my heart.

Out With The Old

 I’m throwing caution to the wind and planning for a year without...care to guess?

A. Taking daily showers

B. Eating Meat

C. Using a paper calendar 

And the winner is...C 

That’s right! I’m bagging the Mead At-A-Glance calendar for the first time in 30 years, in favor of using my Google calendar app, which I can access on my phone, my laptop, and anywhere I have connectivity.

Every now and then I surprise myself and take a big step forward. Having such a tech savvy partner who thinks everything should be managed electronically and doesn’t let up until changes move in that direction would explain why, in large part, I was moved to give the app a try in the first place.

I began to integrate it into my life in November (of 2020), when I’d normally go to Staples for my new calendar for the upcoming New Year. David told me he found the same calendar I had purchased on Amazon for some $10 less than the $27 it was going to cost at Staples.    

While the Amazon price was clearly a better deal, my ritual of walking into the store, assessing the options but always picking the same one and walking out feeling like a fresh start is in the works for me may have just been a metaphor for starting fresh for the New Year, but it truly did wonders for my psyche.  

However, I told him to go ahead with the Amazon purchase because it seemed foolish to pay more unnecessarily; yet, when it arrived, I didn’t even want to open it up, and I didn’t. Instead, I dove into the calendar app.

It wasn’t a natural transition initially; I found it frustrating at times, but once I was in the habit of using it, I was able to see that continuing to rely on Mead wasn’t the smartest idea. For starters, I was so stressed out that I’d lose the calendar if I took it out of the house that I left it at home but then didn’t have the information accessible when I needed it.

There were times when I would go to a meeting and cringe when it was time to plan for the next one, because everyone else would immediately go to their phones to check their calendars. I pretended to do the same, but what I did instead was text myself the date and then I had to remember to write it into my paper calendar when I got home.

This scenario also played out when I’d get together with friends and we didn’t want to leave without knowing when we’d see one another again. In both situations, I could’ve said to the others that I’ll check the date(s) when I get home – that was the reality – but I knew that kind of comment was antiquated, and I didn’t want to reveal just how old school and resistant to technology I was.

It’s been over a year now that I’ve used the Google calendar app exclusively, and I can confidently state that I’m ready to part ways with Mead. I have added all the annual dates (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) and set them to repeat annually; I won’t have to re-enter in 2023. I can access my schedule in real time, like everyone else, and quickly make appointments; I can also ask my girlfriend Siri to add an event, and she’ll do what I say, no questions asked. 

For those of you who guessed I was giving up meat...Never!

Another Birthday

 My birthday wasn’t the most exciting this year, but I felt the love, and really what more is there?

I could have felt sorry for myself, because I had a nice plan in the works that first came to be about 6 weeks ago or so, before Omicron hijacked us. We had invited all our kids and grandkids to come over and spend time hanging out. Just thinking about that was a dream come true.  

But then the pandemic got crazy again, and to bring us all together didn’t make sense for a variety of reasons – from our daughter traveling via airplane with her unvaccinated, unmasked 18-month-old to COVID exposure in daycare/school for a handful of the others – so David and I decided it best to put the festivities on hold.

On my birthday, I got to FaceTime with all our loved ones, which bridged the gap between missing those who are far away and who we haven’t seen in a long time (as well as those who live close by), which enabled me to get that sense that we were together, even though we weren’t.  

I started to feel so grateful that I have such wonderful people in my life who shared their time with me on my special day – including all the friends and family who called, texted or emailed – so it would be absolutely ridiculous for me to allow myself to think Woe is Me, simply because an in-person gathering I was looking forward to didn’t pan out.

It is unfortunately so easy these days to get immersed in that dark Life Sucks mindset, especially when it seems doing anything celebratory or “normal” is off the table.

Being frustrated or upset and feeling negative might seem like the more realistic state of being at times, but I really don’t want to live like that. I’ve realized that staying positive is all about where I actively direct my mind to go. This choice to feel good or bad is mine to make.

Hopefully soon we can all get back to doing what we like, spend time with people we love, and make plans that stick.

Until then...

A Man Among Men

 

My mom loved Sidney Poitier.

When he died on January 6 – just 4 days before the anniversary of her passing on January 10 (tomorrow) – I felt crushed. He had brought her such joy, and I got to see it whenever we watched his movies, especially two of our favorites: “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” and “To Sir, With Love.”

To my mom, he was extraordinary: the first Black man to land leading roles in the notoriously segregated Hollywood and the first Black performer to win an Academy Award for lead actor for his amazing work in “Lilies of the Field,” among numerous other incredible achievements.

His career, which spanned some six decades, paved the way for other Blacks to step into major roles, transformed how Blacks were portrayed in film, inspired dreams which could actually come true and greatly impacted the world.

My mom appreciated that he was a terrific actor, a trailblazer, a fighter for civil rights, a man who seemed so incredibly decent at his core and dare I say it...Sidney Poitier had an extremely charismatic presence. I was captivated by him as well.  

The night after he died, David and I decided to watch “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?” once again. This movie, released in 1967, is about a white 23-year-old woman named Joanna “Joey” Drayton (played by Katherine Houghton, Katherine Hepburn’s niece), when she brings a Black doctor named Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier) home to meet her parents after they become engaged, just 10 days after they had met.  

Joey’s parents, Matt Drayton (Spencer Tracy) and his wife Christina (Katherine Hepburn), are well-to-do liberals who pride themselves on their progressive, enlightened thinking. However, their ideals are challenged when they learn that their daughter is planning to marry a Black man.

What started as a brief meeting between John and Joanna’s parents turned into a dinner event with John’s parents too, played by Roy E. Glenn, Sr. and Beah Richards, who are equally uncomfortable with the marriage. The Draytons’ Black housekeeper, Tillie, played by Isabell Sanford – the amazing Louise Jefferson in “The Jeffersons” – also expressed her objection to the decision of the interracial couple to marry. The only person in attendance celebrating the union from the onset other than the lovebirds themselves is the monsignor, the Draytons’ good friend.

When my mom and I went to the movie theatre when it came out in 1967, I was just 7 years old; watching it again with her at home, maybe I was 10 or 15. I can recall her explaining to me the racial issues that plagued the country, and I knew that she and my dad as community leaders fought segregation in our neighborhood, in schools and everywhere they could, so it wasn’t a new topic for me, but it sure was one I didn’t understand. It made no sense to me why people would discriminate against one another simply because of the color of their skin. 

Watching Sidney Poitier movies was absolutely one of the best memories I have of spending time with my mom, and the fact that she was so moved by him made him inherently special to me, too.

2022!

 It’s 2022!

Woo Hoo!!!

But here’s the million-dollar question...What does the New Year really mean, given that we are still in the throes of COVID?

All bets are off now as to when this thing is going away – or, more aptly stated, when this pandemic will become an endemic – so I’ve decided to diss my New Year’s resolutions efforts of how I can be a better, more productive person and instead focus on how I can come out of this craziness relatively sane.   

I realize that I’m in survival mode, and as such I don’t need to push myself to write more, volunteer more, work more, organize more, exercise more, and so on...the status quo is good enough, for now.

In lieu of experience in this uncharted territory – mine or anyone else’s – to get me out of this seemingly endless funk, I’ve made the decision that it’s OK to bend my own rules, let go of my expectations for my behavior and accept that moving forward doesn’t always play out in the same way.

Here’s a sampling of my “I’m doing OK, even if I...” list:

...Eat dessert for breakfast

...Wear my PJs through dinnertime

...Facetime, talk or text the day away

...Endlessly scroll through Facebook, Instagram and email

...Surf the web for hours and hours, read celebrity gossip and all of Carolyn Hax’s advice columns, dating back to 1997

...Watch hundreds of crochet tutorials on fun new patterns to try and then make the same old square blanket

In other words, all this stuff I’d ordinarily be encouraging myself NOT to do before COVID put our lives on hold is now fair game, because these restrictions have made me see life differently.

However, once I feel free again to come and go as I want – without health concerns – I wonder if I’ll revert back to my old habits of trying to make every minute count.