Things I've Learned This Week Or For Lack of A Better Title

Bsd

I have been home for nearly a week, and already I have learned so much! Perhaps this is the reason behind my mysterious silence? Simply that it takes great energy to process the amount of new information and life lessons that I have been receiving, leaving me with little, actually no, time to share it with my devoted readers. But now I feel I have somewhat recovered from this astounding influx of knowledge, and I will present a few of the things I have learned here, for your edification:

A - When removing a small child from the playground against his/her will, a prudent person will prepare themselves with aural protection, lest the ear-piercing, air raid siren imitating wail that will be produced by said small child prove damaging to one's audio functions.

B - If one wakes up, and then proceeds to continue to sleep, general society will not deem this an actual arising, despite one's own perception of consciousness.

C - Upon revisiting childhood impressions as impressed by certain popular novels (e.g. Ballet Shoes, Dancing Shoes, Movie Shoes, etc., or The Little Princess, Little Lord Fauntleroy, Cinderella, The Boxcar Children, Freckles, etc),one has decided that it is highly unlikely that one will either be "discovered" for remarkable talents in the performing arts arena, or that one will prove to be long-lost nobility and/or relatives of an important personage. As one was quite satisfied with one's family, one spent many hours singing or speaking to oneself in the hopes that someone might overhear and be stunned by one's talent. If one had only learned then what one learned this week....

D - Should sleep threaten to overcome one, one should not succumb to its tempting coils; rather, one should persevere in one's activities, be they of value or not, as long as one does not give in to the temptress of sleep. This is provided that the tempting of sleep occurs in the hours following sunset. Once dawn approaches, sleep no longer holds power, and one may - nay! should! - succumb with alacrity, and do all one can to preserve the state of slumber for as long as one dares.

E - Sand is very difficult to remove from one's shoes. However, removing one's shoes and accompanying footwear (if one's footwear extends past the knee, for example) in order to prevent sand accumulation may cause difficulties when attempting to exit the general area containing sand, or in other words, the playground.

F - When encountering individuals who are acquainted with one, if one should be of a certain age, certain recommendations or hopes will be expressed concerning one's marital state. It has been decided that the best course of action for one is the one presented in the classic film, Madagascar: "Smile and wave, boys, smile and wave." An adaptation of the aforementioned approach will prove satisfactory for all parties involved in any exchange concerning matrimony and one.

Having laid out for you as many lessons as days I have been home, I leave you, my dear Readers, with this last message:
G-d, IT'S GOOD TO BE HOME!!

Seven Years

Bsd
I didn't even know what day it was today. I rushed out to babysit this morning, too tired to turn on my computer. I don't own a radio or a TV. I don't get a daily newspaper. It was any other day to me, one of those funny fall days, where the sky hasn't decided if it wants to be sunny or cloudy, and the air brings with it a taste of winter crispness.
I came home and ate lunch, lolling on my bed, eating sushi and reading a novel. Knowing that I had to return to my babysitting job in a few minutes, I decided to get my first internet fix of the day. And that's how I remembered it was September 11th.
After debating the value of personal remembrances of historical events with a fellow blogger, it seems appropriate to share my own:
September 11, 2001
6:30 AM
The voices from my radio alarm stream through my subconscious until, with a groan, I awaken. Immediately, I realize something is wrong. I'm thirteen, and I don't know what the World Trade Center is. Still in my pajamas, dazed with sleep, unsure of what has happened, I walk quietly down the stairs to my parents' room. My mother sits in her bed, my brother curled up next to her, eyes on the small television that she keeps in her room.
The towers are burning.
8:30 AM
I stand on the lawn in front of my friend's house, backpack in its customary position on my back, feet cold from the morning dew that still lies wet on the grass. We've gathered for our carpool, and are now waiting for our parents to find out if there is school today. If there was a fourth plane. If there are threats on San Francisco. I can't imagine going to school. I can't imagine not going.
10:30 Am
The principal of my school stands at the podium, leading us in saying Tehillim. Twenty five kids sit on shul benches, saying Tehillim. Half of them don't even know why. They won't know until they're old enough to learn about today in history class.
4:30 PM
Driving across the Bay Bridge, Daniel decides that the man driving the gasoline truck next to us is an Arab, and we're all going to die. None of us believe him - but we're not quite sure he's wrong, either.
6:30 PM
My sister calls from Chicago. There are girls crying in her dorm, for uncles and aunts who were in the Towers. We hear the first miracle story from her, the first "I stopped to give tzedakah/drive my kid to school/learn a little/make a phone call/missed the train/lost my job and it saved my life" story. But there are still girls crying.

My kids will never know that you used to be allowed to walk people to the gate and hug them before they went on the plane and watch as that plane taxied down the runway and flew into the air.
Unless I tell them.
Tell your story.

Singin' In The Rain

Bsd
I must apologize for stealing the title of this post, but nothing that I could think of on my own seemed as suitable as this for describing my experience this Shabbos. This is what I did on Shabbos.
I sang in the rain.
Loudly, softly; in my head, in my heart.
I never knew that Crown Heights would be home for me one day.
I walked in the rain, down familiar streets. Splashed in puddles ankle deep on familiar corners. Pulled my hood off my head and smiled for the joy of accepting, no, embracing the rain as I stood outside familiar buildings.
I was drenched three times in the past 48 hours. I didn't care. It rained, and I was wet, and then I came home, and I was dry.
I felt strong, loving the rain. I felt happy, loving the rain. I missed someone with whom I wanted to share this joy, this rain drunk love.
Rain in my hair, three times over, until it was slick and damp and sodden, and I gave up and shoved it back, and decided I looked amazing anyway.
Rain on my face, misting my glasses, until I couldn't see, and stepped in puddles and stopped to wipe the rain away, wishing for window wipers.
Rain in my clothes, in my open-toed shoes, cold and cheerful, swirling dirt and leaves past my ankles, and eliciting shrieks from my throat.
I love the rain. Snow is quiet and pretty, Sun is relaxing and balmy, but Rain! Rain and Wind! I feel alive, I feel dangerous, I feel like a child.

Podunk

Bsd
I grew up in a podunk little town, which some of you (a rare few) may have heard of: Berkeley.
Home to one of the most respected universities in the world, a continuing source of social revolution and ground breaking liberalism, centered in one of the most culturally and economically active areas in the United States, it is a still a podunk little town.
Jewishly speaking, that is. To be more accurate, Lubavitchly speaking.
I read Jewish books as a young girl, and certain aspects of those mystified me as much as certain aspects of books I read about public school did. Walking to school? I sat in a car for a minimum of three hours every day. Class elections? By the time a president, vice president, and secretary would be elected, we would have exceeded the number of students in each class.Both The BY Times and Sideways Stories from Wayside School portrayed foreign worlds.
But I didn't know any better, and so was completely content in my little bubble of a world, neither here nor there. I was a cheerful child, and played well with my classmates, and read a whole heck of a lot, and never learned how to ride a bike, although that isn't really relevant to the point I'm going to make (and as a public service announcement: I did learn how to ride a bike this summer. More on that another time.).
But the idylls of our childhood can never remain. My sister went to school.
We'd go visit her, and she knew people. People from summer camp, which I never attended, being too content at home, in the Gan Izzy I knew well and loved, to leave. People from high school. People from seminary.
I'd go visit her, and walk behind her, sticking close to her shadow as she introduced me to her friends. We'd be in Crown Heights, and she knew people on the street.
She knew people.
I eventually followed in her footsteps, and went to high school, where I experienced the joys of having a group of friends for the first time. But I still didn't know people. I still returned home for the summers, rather than venture off to exotic parts of the US.
I went to seminary. Everyone there seemed to know people. We'd be on buses, in Yerushalayim, hearing engagement announcements, and the girls I was with knew people.
I knew my friends.
And then Crown Heights.
Can you imagine what living in Crown Heights was like for me, this little girl from that little podunk town?
Stars in my eyes, I was terrified. And then delighted.
Then I left.
Three months is like a blink in the eye of a lifetime, or it's a lifetime in the blink of an eye. The month and a half that I spent in Nashville was itself an eternity.
Nashville is even more podunk than Berkeley.
A month and a half.
Suddenly! I'm back! Crown Heights! My apartment! BunchoBagels! Parties!
I went to two l'chaims and a wedding, walked all across town in stilleto sandals, drank a rum-infused slushie, and saw people.
What better way to announce my (temporary) return than to traverse the social circuit?
And what I realized tonight was that I know people.
I 'm that girl, who pauses in every conversation to shriek and hug, or to be shrieked at and hugged, who can chitchat with the best and rest of em.
I know so many frickin' people.
I - from that little PODUNK town - I know people!