What I Am. (a small poem)

I am gauze and ether, I am mist and veil

I am centuries of Torah, thousands of years of cracked Hebrew feet walking these sands

I am Abraham

A swirling twisting dust

A pillar of salt

I turn around and look backwards

Though it is forbidden

I see my family rising from the bitter ashes of Europe

I see my family spread like butter across the smooth green hills of Canada

I see my family sprinkled like dust in a new and old and holy land.

I turn one more time to straighten my scarf in the mirror

Then face forward – it’s off to the mall.

Things that are weird in Israel #7: Chad pa’ami, a poem about plastic cutlery

First, some background.  Israelis adore their plastic cutlery, which is mysterious because it is some of the most awful I have experienced in my entire life. 

The spoons are the worst – most are shaped in such a way as to slice the sides of my mouth every time I use them. 

The other cutlery here isn’t much better – the forks snap, leaving tines scattered everywhere in your food, while the knives have wimpy handles that don’t let you accomplish much of anything.

And don’t get me started on the plastic beverage cups, which, where I come from, would be known as “baggies.”  They do have a sort of ring arrangement around the top that prevents them from collapsing utterly when raised to the mouth or lowered to the table – usually.

Nevertheless, the past week having been Pesach, and our dairy Pesach stuff having apparently been thrown away instead of packed meticulously for our lift (!), we have been dependent on plastic cutlery, also known as “chad pa’ami” (חד פעמי), which means “single use” and is a catchall phrase for anything you can use one time and never again – generally because it has fallen apart along the way.

Until our lift arrived, plastic cutlery was pretty much all we used at the merkaz klitah… so it felt really sad to have to go back to it for this week.

(Yeah, they did community kashering in KShmu, so theoretically, we could have hauled all the regular dairy cutlery to be boiled…)

So now that Pesach is over, I’ve written a poem, in tribute to the plastic cutlery that’s been “plaguing” me all week long (get it?  Pesach – plaguing?).

Chad paami, how I hate thee
All the mouth sores, scrapes and cuts
For Passover, but moreover
All the damage still remains.

All that plastic, trash fantastic
All our money down the drains.
And the mouth sores, scrapes and cuts.
Eating messy, like a klutz,

All those flimsy plastic handles
Stacked beside the yom tov candles
How my mouth bleeds and bemoans,
While around our table groans

The creak and crack of chad paami
Scraping matzah - double whammy
Now the chag is gone and through
So I can say I'm sick of you!!!

And look! 

While googling, I turned up this picture, but I have also seen these in the stores… for people who can’t be bothered buying an actual pot (or cannot afford one):  it’s a chad paami POT – made of TINFOIL. 

If the quality is anything like the rest of the chad paami in this country, I would fear for my life when using this thing…

Please – share your terrible chad paami experiences (Israeli or otherwise) in the Comments section below!

Two family emails: Two, Sukkos

This is my mother’s annual poem-invitation to her sukkah, cc’d to the entire family… and my reply, below.

THEY SAY THE WEATHER’S COOLING OFF
AND FALL IS NEARLY HERE.
SO WE’LL BE BUSY BUILDING
THE SUKKAH, NEVER FEAR.

PLEASE COME AND HELP TO CELEBRATE
OUR TIME OF THANKS THIS YEAR.
WE’LL EAT AND TALK AND LAUGH AND DRINK
[LET’S HOPE THE WEATHER DOESN’T STINK]
WITH  FRIENDS WHO ARE HELD SO DEAR.

My reply:

Ha!  Cooling off?  We wish, we wish,
As maple leaves, so distant, swish;
We cannot build a sukkah now,
And live five flights up anyhow..

For years and years, you've come to us,
And given us a chance to fuss,
And build and cook and clean with love
And pray the rains hold back above.

So as you eat and talk and drink,
(Assume the weather just won't stink!),
Consider us 'neath sunny skies,
Awash with sand and salt and flies.

But there is comfort here, at least,
Though we'll be lonely at the feast,
Connected through these ancient lands
Our ancient family walked these sands.

Though we miss friends and family dear,
We're loving every yomtov here.
We hope you'll all come very soon...
Perhaps next Tishrei's bright full moon???

Okay, this is completely rotten.  There is no way this Sukkos won’t suck.  I would appreciate nobody sending a deluge of “told you so” emails.  I already know – we chose this, nobody forced us to come here.  :-(

Thank you.

Two family emails: One, Rosh Hashanah

This is my mother’s annual poem-invitation to Rosh Hashanah, cc’d to the entire family… and my reply, below.

Blow the shofar! Sing a song!
Soon it's Yom Tov--won't be long.
The New Year's coming--5774
In just 3 weeks--practically knocking at the door.
Hope you can join our luncheon fete,
On foot, by car, or even jet.
Please let me know; I'll wait to hear
If you'll join in celebrating the coming year.

Here’s my reply:

While shofar-sounding we will hear,
Sadly, we cannot be near;
Yet we will keep you all at heart
And weep for hours spent apart.
Please eat some honey cake with joy
And scream so loudly, like our boy.
We love you all and hate to miss
A time so awesome quite like this.
As new year's moon begins to dawn,
Please think of us... and carry on.
:-(

Missing these family times is terrible.  There are no two ways about it.

Purim Postcard / Aliyah Songs

If you’re a Toronto friend, don’t read on – SPOILERS!!!

I printed 50 of these cards to mail before our pilot trip, because things will be too hectic upon our return to do anything besides show up at shul for the megillah reading:

(click for full-sized version)

Here are the poems:

(ttto:  We’re off to see the Wizard)

We’re off to make aliyah,
In the year fifty-seven seventy-three;
We know it is the busiest biz
That ever a biz there was.
If ever, oh ever, a busy year was,
Then moving to Israel is sure one because
Because, because, because,
because, because…
That’s what every new oleh does!

(ttto:  Somewhere Over the Rainbow)

Somewhere, over the ocean, way off far,
There’s a Land that we’ve dreamed of,
its symbol a waving star.

Someday, we’ll hop on board a plane,
And wake up where the sound of rain…
delights us.

Where Jewish souls in Jewish homes,
Are writing happy Hebrew poems,
That’s where you’ll find us…

Somewhere, over the ocean,
there are Jews,
Living dreams that we dare to dream…
That’s the dream we choose.

Okay, a little mushy.  But hopefully just the right spirit for Purim cards!

It only occurs to me now that this would have been a great opportunity for some sort of pun on “Hashem ‘Oz’ l’amo yitein” (Hashem will grant strength to His people – the word for “strength” is “Oz”).  But they’re already printed and I think handwriting it on 50 cards would be goofy.

Drat!!!