Happy Thanksgiving

Egads. Two months have passed without a blog entry. Why is it that good habits, like exercising, eating right, and blogging, are so much harder to get back into once you get out of them? It just isn't fair. I got out of the habit of staying up late and eating too many desserts over the summer, and now I'm right back into them like no time passed.

Speaking of writing, my Yearly T'ruah (our family newsletter) never got written for the High Holidays, so I am going to make sure it gets sent out before Chanukah. We still call the newsletter the Yearly T'ruah, even when it gets sent out during Purim (in March) simply because it reminds me that a) Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are the most important holidays of the year, b) you're late, you idiot, you're late again.

It keeps me humble.

But anyway, we're gearing up now for our Friday Thanksgiving meal. As I mentioned in previous blog entries, my inlaws always have our big meal on Friday so my sister-in-law can have Thanksgiving dinner with HER in-laws on Thursday. It's a simple fix that works for everybody's schedule, and it usually results in having non-traditional meals on Thanksgiving proper. Last night, I made a spinach, tomato, and feta frittata.

Thanksgiving is always a communal affair with my in-laws. No matter who is actually hosting it, the cooking responsibilities are evenly distributed for our Friday meal. This way, no one is stuck with all the cooking duties, and everyone feels a connection to the meal. Furthermore, this way there are more compliments to go around. ("Oh, you liked the salt and pepper? Thank your uncle. He brought them.")

This year, we have a new addition to the family...and therefore, a new guest at the meal. My niece Rowan is 2-months old, which means that she will be the center of attention. Naturally, this means that her sister Dana, who is almost 3, will be forced to dump her plate of food on her head at some point during the meal to regain her rightful place as focal point. This, of course, will result in both of my sons laughing hysterically until one of them starts choking, repositioning one or both of them as the new center of attention. And then Rowan will start crying because there is too much noise. And then we will all have pie.

I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Birthday, Shirah

My wife Shirah is five weeks older than I am. That means that any birthday-related "cleverness" I feel obliged to perpetrate on her will come back at me five-fold in five weeks time. This is one of the reasons I am always nice to my wife in July.

I am nice to her for other reasons as well. Not the least of which is that she has put up with me for 16 years. Some would say this entitles her to a purple heart. Others would say that in 4 years she is eligible for parole.

So, to celebrate her 40th birthday (yes, the cat's out of the bag...but you all figured that out when I said she was five weeks older than me...oh, never mind) I threw her a party. She decided that she wanted a fiesta theme, which meant that we had a vegetarian taco bar, enchiladas, tropical fruit salad, guacamole, roasted corn salsa, cayenne pepper picante, horchata to drink, and baklava for dessert.

OK, so maybe baklava isn't exactly fiesta food. OK, so maybe it isn't fiesta food at all. A party is a party, and she knew what she wanted. Besides, I've developed a certain reputation for my baklava. Play to your strengths, I always say.

She insisted on other non-fiesta desserts as well; Hoosier desserts from her youth. So, I made peanut butter squares and chocolate oatmeal bars. Both recipes are good. I mean sinfully good. And there are still leftovers in the refrigerator. This is bad. Very, very bad. If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back...

We tried to make the party as kid-friendly as possible. I mean, c'mon...we had tacos and soda. We rented a room at the Post Road Park Banquet and Meeting Facility, which has a convenient playground right outside the building. So, when the kids got antsy waiting for someone to entertain them, I took them all outside into the 90 degree heat and schvitzed while they ran around the playground. Meanwhile, my wife stayed inside the air-conditioned building and chatted with the adults.

Yes, I love my wife. I just hope this all comes back to me five-fold in five weeks time. I'd even settle for some peanut butter squares.

Happy Birthday, Micah!

Happy Birthday, Micah! May you grow older and wiser but never bitter nor jaded. May the world continue to delight and surprise you. May you always see the best in others and help them to see it in themselves.

And may you always be able to charm the socks off of everyone and anyone. It's a valuable skill to have. Don't lose it.

Six years old. Wow. That's six-tenths of a decade. It's like having your very first birthday again...and again and again and again and again. It's old enough to play Laser Tag. I know this because you've reminded me...again and again and again and again.

It amazes me that even as Micah grows older and smarter and more eloquent (using big words like "artificial sweetener" and "inedible"), he never seems to lose that wide-eyed fascination of the world. I pray he never does.

Two weeks ago, Micah and I went to the Bill Monroe Bean Blossom Bluegrass Festival. After spending all Saturday at the festival, we camped overnight in our deluxe-ish Eddie Bauer tent. It was Micah's first time camping. It was a BIG DEAL. He was fascinated by everything: by the informal jam sessions throughout the campground, by the talented players on the stage, by our sleeping bags and inflatable pillows, and by learning to brush his teeth "the camping way" (pouring water from a bottle on the toothbrush, brushing his teeth outside the tent, and spitting on the ground). I got to experience camping all over again through his eyes.

And I could never tell just what would get his attention. There he was in the midst of the music festival, Bluegrass all around him, big bag of kettle corn next to his chair, having watched me erect our tent, having watched our neighbors play mandolin, banjo, bass, and dobro right in front of him...you know, the full experience. He climbed into my lap, gave me a big hug, and peeked over my shoulder at the people behind us. "Cool, Cheez-its!" he said as he spotted the crackers the people behind us were snacking on. He said it the same way I might have said, "Cool, a Lamborghini!"

Naturally, the people behind us offered him Cheez-its. After all, Micah still can charm the socks off of anyone.

Fulfilling My Talmudic Duty

The Talmud has this to say about a father's obligations towards his son:

"A father is obligated to do the following for his son: to circumcise him, to redeem him if he is a first born, to teach him Torah, to find him a wife, and to teach him a trade. Others say: teaching him how to swim as well." (Kiddushin 29a)

In other words, a father is duty bound to prepare his son to face the world. Most halachic (Jewish law) authorities state that if a father can not provide any of the above services for his son, he must hire a person who can.

This is a good thing since my circumcision skills are a bit rusty. As I go through the checklist, I can see what I've taken care of and what I have yet to do for both of my sons:

• Circumcision - check


• Redemption of the first born - check (we donated to the state of Israel instead of to a Kohen, but I count this as completed)


• Teaching them Torah - check. In fact, I wrote a rather large check to the Hebrew School.


• Teaching them to swim - check

As a matter of fact, I got to watch both Omri and Micah at their swimming class today. Shirah usually takes them since I often work until 6pm. Today I made a point of getting home in time for their class. "You've got to see how much they've progressed," Shirah told me.

She was right. Considering that both of them were starting from pretty much nothing this January, it was wonderful to see them gliding through the water, floating on their backs, and completely submerging themselves for as long as their breath held out. It's like a light went on in their brains, and they suddenly realized just how much fun swimming truly can be. For me this is wonderful, not just because I feel like I'm fulfilling my Talmudic duty, but because I love to swim and I want to pass on this affinity to my children. Maybe they'll grow up and live somewhere on a coast. And swim. And go SCUBA diving. And go boating. And invite me on their boat.

I know, I know...one thing at a time. First I need to teach them a trade and find them wives. Maybe I'll hunt for the wives myself instead of hiring a shadchan (matchmaker). I'm up for the challenge. If anyone is interested in setting up a shidduch (match), give me a call. My son's don't have trades yet, but at least they can swim. And they are learning Torah. Oh, and Omri can stick his foot behind his head.

Maybe I better hire a shadchan after all.

Talmudic Toddler

My wife Shirah reminded me this evening of an incident that happened nine years ago, when Omri was one years old. Omri wasn't speaking yet, at least not beyond, "Hi!" Most of his vocalizations were of the "Da da da da!!!" variety.

One morning, Omri decided that Mama had slept long enough, and he started voicing his opinion that she should get her lazy tuchus out of bed and come release him from the confines of the crib ("Da da da da!") Shirah staggered into his room, and groggily said, "Omri, it's WAY too early to get up." Omri very deliberately pointed at the window to show her the sunlight pouring through. Even though he couldn't yet talk, he was clearly saying, "Look at the sunlight. If there is sunlight, it must be time to get up."

Shirah later said that it was the most eloquent Talmudic argument without words that she had ever heard.

Happy Birthday Omri!

Yesterday was Omri's birthday. He is ten years old. I am now the father of a decade-old child.

I think I need to sit down now.

The Yearly T'ruah

The Yearly T'ruah, our family newsletter, is finally finished. I sent it out to most of my family and friends, so if you did not receive a copy, this means that a) we did not send you one, b) we sent you one (with our best wishes for a new year) but it got lost in the mail, or c) we sent you one (with our best wishes for a new year) but silly us...we sent it to the wrong address.

In other words, we are only admitting to options b) and c). However, I am willing to send a copy to anyone who requests it on an opt-in basis.

If you did not receive a copy, possibly suggesting that we do not have your most recent contact information, please drop me a line, and tell me where you are now, what you are doing, etc., etc., etc.

And Happy Gregorian New Year.

The Land of Curiosities

My sister Paula is a graphic designer in Chicago, andshe has art directed an interesting children's novel called The Land of Curiosities, Adventures in Yellowstone, 1871-1872. It is the first in a series created by The EcoSeekers that teaches awareness andhopes to inspire activism in children about the environment.

Paula forwarded me a message from authors Dave and Dee Neil:

Hello family, friends, colleagues, and other people we like, We are proud to announce the launch of ourcompany’s website, www.theecoseekers.com, and our first book, THE LAND OF CURIOSITIES: Adventures inYellowstone, 1871-1872.

This is the first book in a collection of stories about defining events and themes in the history of the environmental movement as told through the experiences of courageous young fictional characters.

In a good ol' Western adventure, THE LAND OF CURIOSITIES revolves around the creation of Yellowstone as the world's first national park in 1872. Geared towards ages 8 and up (and loved by adults too), the book includes a 16-page real history section for educators and the curious.

We are particularly excited by the very positive responses we have received thus far, from kids and adults. Endorsements include Robert F. Kennedy Jr.,U.S. Senator Dick Durbin, and Nell Newman.

Take a look at our website http://www.theecoseekers.com/ and help spread the word. And, naturally, feel free to buy as many books as you’d like (they make great holiday gifts)!


PLEASE FORWARD THIS EMAIL along to others. We’d greatly appreciate your doing so. We hope to hear from you soon. The brother-sister team of….
- Dave and Dee Neil

P.S. In case we have not spoken in a while… Last year,we created a company called The EcoSeekers™ to educate and engage kids in the environmental movement through our branded entertainment, products and online community. Our goal is to achieve the level of influence and success of American Girl and HarryPotter, but for the environment. We're a publishing company and more!

"Accidentally"?

Yesterday, my wife sent me the following email regarding Micah, our 5-year old:

Words I never expected to hear while being presented with a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich: "Mama, can I throw this away? I accidentally washed it."

Cue spit take. I'm at a loss for words.

Happy Birthday, Omri!

Happy Birthday, Omri! Mazel Tov on turning nine! I’m not sure I’m ready to be a parent of a nine-year old. I mean, I remember being nine like it was yesterday. Of course, I don’t remember yesterday too well these days.

I turned nine way back in 1977. That was before Runescape. That was before the Internet. That was before digital cameras, cell phones, CDs, and DVDs. Nobody (except for my mother) worried about second-hand smoke, trans fats, nitrites in hot dogs, and undercooked meat. It’s amazing that any of us survived at all. Most of us didn’t. Those of us who did are still alive but very grumpy.

There were only three major T.V. networks. I watched Welcome Back Kotter (and did bad impressions of Horschack), Barney Miller, MASH, Rhoda, Phyllis, Maude, Quincy, Holmes & Yoyo, Alice (and did bad impressions of Flo), Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, Charlie’s Angels, Good Times (and did really bad impressions of J.J.), the Jeffersons, Little House on the Prairie, The Six Million Dollar Man (and ran in slow motion), and the Bionic Woman. And that was only the primetime shows.

On Saturday mornings, Schoolhouse Rock taught all about math, English, and U.S. History. The Superfriends, Fat Albert, and Scooby Doo taught us about life.

Even amidst all that T.V., I read books. My favorite was Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, the Judy Blume book about a 9-year old who has a bratty 2-year old brother. It was a hit with ALL older brothers.

I didn’t listen to the radio much, but I do remember hearing We Are the Champions (Queen), Slip Slidin’ Away (Paul Simon), and Short People (Randy Newman). I didn’t particularly like the song Short People, considering that I was about 5 inches shorter than you are now. My friends liked the song, though, and sang it to me all the time.

Two other wonderful songs, Margaritaville (Jimmy Buffett) and Hotel California (Eagles), came out that year, but I didn’t know about them till many years later.

I started Hebrew School that year. Mrs. Zar (o.b.m.) was my teacher. I learned the Alef Bet, Hebrew vocabulary, and how to pronounce Sefardic Hebrew with a thick Polish accent. We loved her dearly and miss her terribly.

Mr. Christine was my 4th grade teacher. He was young (I realize now), energetic, idealistic, and loved to do science demonstrations in class. Naturally I liked him a lot.

Yes, Omri, that was my 9th year. It was a simpler time back then, or at least it seems so in my memories. I'm sure it didn't seem particularly simple at the time.

I can’t wait to see what you write to your son 29 years from now on his 9th birthday. Please email me a copy. Better yet, send it directly to my bio-psionic implant. I’ll turn off the spam filter.