A while ago, I posted a letter about our issues with American Express and United Airlines. You can read it here. Here is our update...We were kindly contacted by some folks at Amex who put some of their best people on this situation. The agent who helped us was very kind and worked very hard for us. But it boils down to this, airlines are notoriously difficult and not interested in being the best at customer service. They were unable to do anything for us but did compensate us for being good customers.Our issue now has been clarified. United Airlines customer service is atrocious. We initially called when we noticed the problem and after a significant amount of time on the phone, the customer service rep HUNG UP ON ME. Really? That is how you handle customers? When we asked how to resolve our issue they offer us two options: 1. pay hundreds of dollars and rebook tickets OR 2. put it in a type of mediation service that takes a long time and may or may not solve our issue in time to make it to the two weddings. What kind of choice is that? It's a choice by a company that clearly could care LESS about us and our travel situation.Our boycott now lays squarely at the feet of United Airlines. So in addition to our boycott, we recommended to my brother, who will be traveling a significant amount for his new job, to avoid United Airlines and recommend to his colleagues to do the same.
Ethical Jewish Food Movement
Just so happens, that I got a call the other day from a lovely Denver Post reporter about the Jewish ethical food movement. She was looking for a statement from the JCC about why this is important to add to her piece about Rabbi Soloway and his work in Boulder. We talked for... maybe 30-40 minutes. :) We talked about how the ancient Jews agricultural laws guide us today. How we know now that letting land rest between planting helps the output and Judaism guides us in these things. We spoke about how impossible it is to get out of season produce in Israel and you really understand how food grows when and how it matches up to our calendar. Apples are harvested at Rosh Hashanah. Olives are picked and pressed and the oil is ready at Chanukah time. We spoke about how deeply Judaism and food and agriculture are linked. 
And we talked about how my husband and I grew our own horseradish this year for the first time to have a piece of our garden on the Seder table. That's the part she mentions here, in her article. P.S. Here is our NYTimes article where she found out about how we got engaged. :) I believe that Judaism is about mindfulness and that extends to our food. When we say brachot over our food before we eat it, it bring a mindfulness about what we are going to ingest. When we seek out Kosher food, it brings a mindfulness to our lives that we can't bypass. We can't 'shovel' food in our mouths. We have to think about what and when we eat. And now, Dan and I have added an aspect. When we grow the food we eat, we add a mindfulness to the whole process. Your tomatoes aren't in season yet. Please G-d, we can't have a hail storm today! Everything was nearly ready! So I am thankful that she gave me an opportunity to speak about a topic I am passionate about. Get ready for many more garden posts this summer. Cruciferous vegetables are in the ground along with beets, carrots, radishes, peas, beans, turnips, and rutabegas. Maybe if it stops snowing the rest of our seedlings will hit the dirt soon. We are wishing everyone a Chag Pesach Sameach, Happy Passover. If you are looking for a last minute dessert for your seder, check our Kosher food blog, Kosher, She Eats for my Great-Grandmother's (Nanny) Passover Sponge Cake Recipe.
And I'm back!
Hello! I would say sorry for the hiatus but I’m not. We are back from our amazing honeymoon and getting back into the swing of things. I can’t believe it all happened, that we pulled it all off, but man… it feels great to be married!In case you missed it, here is the New York Times article on our engagement. It came out the day we were married… more to come!
Talia Davis, Daniel Haykin
Dox Photo
By ROSALIE R. RADOMSKY
Published: March 10, 2013
Small Garden, Big Yield: A MarriageTalia Hava Davis, the daughter of Iana Kade Davis and Rabbi Bahir Davis, both of Lafayette, Colo., is to be married Sunday to Daniel Solomon Haykin, the son of Elena Haykin and Michael Haykin of Centennial, Colo. Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi is to lead the ceremony, with the bride’s father participating, at the McNichols Building, an event space in Denver.The bride, 31, will take her husband’s name. She is the senior manager for marketing of the Allied Jewish Federation of Colorado, a nonprofit fund-raising group for Jewish organizations, in Denver. She graduated magna cum laude from Jacksonville University in Jacksonville, Fla., and received a master’s in public relations and marketing from the University of Denver.The bride’s father is a rabbi in Lafayette, where he also runs Rocky Mountain Hai, a spiritual group, of which her mother is the administrator. Her mother also works in Lafayette as an executive assistant to the chief executive officer at Ilantus Technologies, a security technology firm based in Bangalore, India. The bride is the stepdaughter of Danielle Davis.The groom, also 31, works in Denver as an investment adviser with his father, who runs a private financial investment firm in Centennial. The groom graduated from the University of Rochester. His mother retired as an electrical engineer in Longmont, Colo., at Seagate Technology, the hard-drive maker.The couple were introduced by a mutual friend in early April 2012. Halfway through their first date at a Denver wine bar, Ms. Davis texted her roommate. “This is the man I’m going to marry,” she recalled texting.A week earlier, Ms. Davis had acquired a small plot that needed tending at the community garden at Ekar Farm in Denver. By their third date she recruited Mr. Haykin, along with one of her friends, as gardeners.Mr. Haykin showed up with garden tools. For several hours they worked.Every Sunday they returned to the garden for “a big weeding date,” he said with a laugh. “We’d get dusty and dirty, and got blisters.”They also stopped by during the week to water, and six weeks after the seeds were planted, they sprouted, along with their relationship.“I was leaving for a trip,” the bride said, “and he took me to a cute bar and blurted out that he loved me. I started to tear up and said that ‘I love you, too.’ ”In September, with the garden in full bloom, Mr. Haykin proposed with a ring hidden inside a gardening glove. “Babe, come here, you have to see this,” she recalled him saying from where he crouched behind a couple of plants.“I came running, asking if it was a squash,” she said. He stood up with the open ring box. She froze.After she said “yes” at least a half-dozen times, he quickly tended to matters at hand. “Can you put this thing on your finger before I drop it in the dirt?” he said. ROSALIE R. RADOMSKY
A Shabbat of Peace For All
I am taking a moment out of my day to stop reading about the impeding war in Israel... to stop looking at pictures of dead and injured children on both sides... to stop drafting messages from my CEO to our community on what is going on in Israel...Why? (Other than the obvious answer of, that is all insanely depressing) To say to all of you...
SHABBAT SHALOM
Let this be a sabbath of peace. For the Israelis. For the Gazans and Palestinians. For my friends and family who are in target zones. For the bitter armchair internet warriors who call people on the other side horrible names and accuse them of horrible acts. For each and every one of us.
How does our garden grow?
In March, a friend asked me if I would be interested in meeting a guy friend of hers. "He's a really nice guy and very cute," she told me. "Sure," I said, "send me a picture?" She did and man, was this guy cute.We spoke for the first time in the beginning of April (2012). Halfway through our first date, I texted my roommate, "This is the man I am going to marry."Our dating experience could have been typical... dinners out, movies, etc. But our romance was far from that. About our second or third date, I told him about the garden I was setting up. You see, that winter I had put my name on a list to get a community garden plot at Ekar Farm here in Denver. Ekar is a part of the Denver Urban Gardens movement but it is more than a community garden. There is also a farm that produced almost 6,500 pounds of organic produce and donated it to Jewish Family Service's Weinberg Food Pantry. They have honey bees and apple trees and it is quite a beautiful place... but it wasn't that beautiful on April 1st when I saw my overgrown plot for the first time. I started to think I was a little out of my league.
But then I met this guy... or as he is referred to on this blog, Sweet Boyfriend. You see, I invited him to join me at the garden one Sunday (after our third date) to help me clear out the plot and turn over the soil.We went to the garden with another friend of mine and pulled weeds. We cleared the old radishes out of the plot and he hand tilled the soil. Then we put bat poop and earthworm 'castings' (it's a fancy word for poop) on the soil. We tilled that and watered and watered and watered.He showed me how to set up the garden and we put some seeds in the ground. A few of my favorite veggies... carrots, beans, beets... he smiled nicely and let me do it... even though it wasn't the right season.But as our garden began to grow, and it did begin to grow... because he put MORE seeds in and starter plants, so did our relationship. On Sundays we would go to the garden and water and pick. Most days of the week he would water... unless I managed to get out of the door on time or he was out of town. I was so proud of this little plot of land! I didn't want to 'break' it.We read about gardens, he was growing tomatoes out of pots on his back porch. AND he had a garden at his parents house... he was now master gardener of THREE gardens!And then something magical happened. Just as we saw the seeds begin to sprout, he took me to a very cute bar and told me he loved me and had known he loved me for a while. I couldn't help but tell him that I had loved him for a while as well.Our love had sprouted.
We both traveled in and out of town. We started spending every second of every day that we had available together. Phone calls to parents were missed... friends forgot what we looked like. We were absorbing each other. And so were our plants.Our empty plot began to have tiny plants. My impatience led to many conversations with these little guys, begging them to grow big and give me delicious food... little did I know...Our little plants needed support and care. Sweet Boyfriend bought poles and netting... stepping stones and organic plant food. Every time I visited the garden, there were new surprises.Every time I looked at Sweet Boyfriend, the depth of love I felt for him surprised me. How could I love him so very much in just two months, three months?! While he and I both remained somewhat skeptical and trying to think critically... though he more than I (which you know if you know us). But there was a tug there that was undeniable. To think of life without him... I draw a blank.
And then, we produced our first vegetable. His name was Bob and he was a Calabacita. It means squash in Spanish but it is an actual kind squash. I WAS SO PROUD! In fact, I took the opportunity to freak out my parents by sending them an email with the subject line: "Sweet Boyfriend and I are proud to announce..."Yes, they were mad at me when they opened the email and it said - "Our first squash named Bob!" :) Bob was incredibly delicious. We went on to eat many Bobs... son of Bob, tiny Bob, giant Bob... Bob is good.Yes, that is Bob in the picture. We had no idea what he was at first but to taste the fruits of our labor? To eat something that we had grown together? Incredible. We ate him on Fourth of July... which was the same day that we as a couple, for the first time, hosted people at Sweet Boyfriend's house for a BBQ.We continued to show the world that our relationship was bearing fruit (or vegetables... or Bobs as the case may be).And yes, our relationship continued to evolve and grow. We met each others families and best friends. We even flew to Ann Arbor, Michigan so I could meet Sweet Boyfriend's very best friend from college. We created Jewish traditions for Shabbat and Havdallah. We got tickets to our first High Holy Days together.
And then yesterday, Thursday September, 27th, 2012... as our garden was in full bloom, Sweet Boyfriend... my best friend... asked me to marry him in our garden. The garden that we nurtured and helped grow. The garden that has now produced nearly 250 pounds of produce. And, as I promised so many friends... here is how he did it:We are currently sharing a car as his blew up prior to a camping trip. He needed it yesterday for work so he dropped me off at my job in the morning. He came to pick me up after work. We had talked about maybe working out that afternoon but first we HAD to stop by the garden. It had been a rainy and cool few days and with Yom Kippur, we hadn't been to the garden in a couple of days. He lured me there with the notion that our watermelon... yes we grew a watermelon!!! might be ready.That day I had forwarded him an email from the minyan (a lay led synagogue) that we had been attending, suggesting that we should join and do a couples membership. He told me "Whoa, lo0k you have to give me a night to think about this. Joining a synagogue as a couple is a big step. I mean, it says something, especially if we aren't even engaged!"I could kick myself! How could I do that?! Scaring off the Sweet Boyfriend is NOT a good idea!So we proceeded to the garden. I flitted around... picking zucchinis and patty-pans while Sweet Boyfriend is off in a corner. La la la... no worries in the world.Sweet Boyfriend says: "Babe! Come here! You have to see this!"I come running. Is it a awesome squash? A yellow patty-pan? I come running. Just as I get to him, he turns around, looks me in the eyes and says: "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." 
I froze. Holy crap. That isn't a squash. That is a ring. A beautiful ring."Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," I said."Can I put this thing on your finger before I drop it in the dirt?" Sweet Boyfriend said.Of course. And though, after a touch of canoodling in the garden, I was ready to get back to picking... he informed me that it was all just a ruse to get me there. And there is champagne on ice at home. And we are going out to dinner.Whoa, can this man plan!
When it was all said and done, he has been planning this for a while. He spoke to my father at break the fast after Yom Kippur, the day before, to get permission. His folks have seen and approved of the ring (and me).He became a diamond expert and purchased me a stone cut in a vintage style... to match my vintage style... and he proposed to me in the garden we grew together. So I must tell you this, I promised him I would not use his name online. He is a phantom like that... but he is no longer Sweet Boyfriend and Sweet Fiancee seems so temporary. Since, to us, this is as good as permanent... May I introduce you to Sweet Husband? Whoa, that was weird to write. :)
Why Thanksgiving is this Jewish girl's favorite holiday...
Ever since I was a little girl, there was no doubt what my favorite holiday was. Thanksgiving. Now, I would say that it really is a tie for number one... Thanksgiving tied with Purim. Now Purim was special because I was born on Purim in a leap year, meaning I was born in Adar II, when we add a whole extra month. So Purim always held a special place in my heart. But why Thanksgiving?Thanksgiving. A quintessential American holiday. A holiday that represents America and apple pie and all things patriotic. Maybe this doesn't seem odd to you but you should know that my family is a little bit old country. Yes, we have been in America for many generations but Judaism always came first for us. Our family gatherings were always focused around Jewish holidays or Shabbat... except for Thanksgiving.Being an outcast, being different, being that Jew kid in school did not do much for my cool factor. Not celebrating Xmas or telling my English teacher that the crucifix she hung in the classroom violated my rights did not endear me to my peers... but Thanksgiving... oh Thanksgiving was the one time of year that we were just like everyone else!
The turkey, the pies, visiting my father's family in Rhode Island and my mother's family in NYC, watching the parade, hearing my cousins talk about football... it was almost like I fit in! Not to mention that getting to travel out of Florida and see the leaves change and the snow fall gave me instant street cred on the playground.I was... normal for a moment. I fit in. I had the American experience. It was one time I didn't have to explain what I was celebrating and why and what I was eating!But the thing is, I don't mind all that. I don't mind explaining why I don't eat pork or milk and meat together or why I wear skirts or make matzah pizza for a week in April(ish). I love sharing my Judaism with everyone around me. I was telling someone about the struggles I had growing up in a place where I did not fit in nor feel welcome and he looked at me and said, "I bet that made you the strong person you are today."He is right. It did. And while Thanksgiving will always be my favorite holiday and my heart is full of amazing memories of the past 30 Thanksgivings, I will still treasure being different and a little odd. Why? Because kiruv and chinuch (outreach and education) is something that is so ingrained in me, something that I am passionate about.It's okay to want to share traditions and it's okay to enjoy things that are maybe out of the scope of Judaism or your religion, just as it is okay to share new concepts or ideas with people who may have never encountered a Jew before. Trust me... they are out there... I've met a lot of them!
So at this time of thanks giving, I am thankful for the opportunity to educate and reach out to those who need clarity and information. I am thankful for the many beautiful years with my extended family in Rhode Island and I am thankful to get to go again this year. I am thankful for my whole family but most especially, my immediate family. I am thankful for my job that let's me help Jews all over the world and also help the less fortunate in Colorado. I am thankful for my life and health and dear friends.And I am thankful to you, my readers!
Happy Thanksgiving.
The Pride of a Daughter
I am so very proud of my family. Now, we may be crazy but I am still very proud of my whole family.But this post is about my father. My father, my tatti, my abbasama, is a very special guy. He was always pretty slow to anger. Never hit us, rarely spanked us, and I was only grounded once... when I was 5... and I walked to the next-door neighbor's house without telling them... and she couldn't see me in the peephole because I was too little... I was "lost" for about 15 minutes.All of my parents are extraordinary but my pops, he's pretty incredible. His logic and gentle Aikedo way of raising my brother and I has shaped us into who we are today. He is grammatically stringent (like his father) but never mean. Patient to a fault and an incredible snuggler.However, something happened recently that made my little girl emotions well up and pride spill out in my tears.
He sent me a pdf of his book to proof.It is both awe and awww inspiring.As I read the stories contained within his book, I was drawn back to times with my father. Special moments, dinner tables, synagogue events where the Ya'ir, the mythical rabbi (who I believe was my father in a previous fictional life), made appearances. His stories taught us the real meanings of holidays and observances. Of how they look to those on the outside looking in and those of us on the inside looking deeper. His lessons enabled me to teach and share our historical traditions with friends in ways that they could understand.One of the most exciting parts of seeing my father's stories in print is that I know I will be able to share this with my children and grandchildren, on and on, forever. All of our decedents will know of these stories. They will know of the gentle way of their great great grandfather... and that excites me. We have been researching our family tree and the lack of information makes me sad. I have been pushing my father to document his memories for years because I don't want that to disappear. This book will be the manifestation of just one twig of our collective history. Reading his voice will always be something that I will have.I owe a lot to my tatti, my dad. The lifelong supporter, the unabashed lovebug, the passionate and compassionate father who instilled in me a passion for alliteration and abhorrence at ending a sentence with a preposition.SO stay posted. Keep checking back because I will post a link when the book is available. I hope you and yours will enjoy these stories as much as my brother and I did.
Some People Are Just Real
Knowing that my blog is read widely and open to everyone, I definitely keep certain things to myself. Sometimes there are amazing and fun or sad and upsetting things that you just don't want to share. I have been keeping one of those (positive ones) to myself lately and have decided it was time to share. :)I have been chatting with Mayim Bialik (of Blossom and Big Bang Theory fame) since April or May. It's very cool. She came to Colorado to hear the Maccabeats play the Boulder Jewish Festival and we became friendly there. We have become penpals of a sort and I really enjoy talking to her. She is one of those people who are utterly fun and sweet and makes you feel super comfortable.I was recently reading an interview with her by another SUPER awesome and fun Jewish chick named Gaby Dunn. She is a hilarious comedian and fabulous writer. Gaby really encapsulates the "Mayim Experience" very well in her latest blog. Mayim is a dynamic and awesome chick and I am very glad to count her as a friend. She is a real person. One not affected by fame or power (at least when you know her) who knows what she wants in life. Not to mention that her approach to Judaism is my current inspiration and I think I might convert from Talish to Jewyim because I like the way she works it. :)I encourage you all to read Gaby's interview with Mayim here - 100 Interviews: #69 Mayim Bialik and investigate her site. Her 100 interviews project is pretty amazing and I only wish I could qualify to be one! :) (Ya hear that, Gaby? Got a spot for a rebel rabbi's daughter with yichus out the wazoo?)And remember this: Never judge a person. Not based on a limited opinion. Gained either by the tabloids or gossip. Getting to know someone is incredibly exciting and you may fall into an inspiring situation like me!
Obituary for CeCe Davis
Cece Davis, known to her friends as CeCe the Civic, was born in 1996 in Japan. She passed away June 14, 2011 at 9:05 am in Denver, Colorado. The final cause of death was found to be a defective distributor cap, shot spark plugs and ignition wires, however, CeCe had been suffering many illnesses for a long time. At her death, she was bald (front two tires only), a badge which she wore proudly as those were her winter tires she still holding on to.Cece's long and illustrious life began in a factory in Japan. She loved her home country until the day she died, though was never able to return. As an infant orphaned car, she traveled to Miami, Florida to await a new home. She was soon spotted by the Davis family. The Davises, disillusioned by their previous vehicle, the Eclipse, were looking for a family car. They traveled to Miami to purchase a new car on the advice of Iana's brother, Paul. It is here, on a car lot in Miami, that the Davis Family found CeCe in March of 1997. Coincidentally, it was close to Talia's 16th birthday (CeCe's new owner/sister). Though CeCe was not leased for Talia, they would come to form a deep and unique relationship and bond. Once she arrived at her new home in Vero Beach, CeCe found herself a bit nervous. Fortunately, the old household vehicles soon put her at ease. 
Talia and CeCe would soon become extremely close as adopted sisters, however, their relationship was a bit bumpy at first. While Talia had learned to drive on a stick shift, she had to learn to feel CeCe's unique personality... which lead to many stalls and jumps. It was nearly a year before Talia was allowed to drive her on her own. Life settled into normalcy for the Davis family. CeCe became familiar with the terrain and could almost drive herself to the synagogue where her new father, Rabbi Davis worked. She proudly stood tall in the parking lot on Shabbat, waiting to take the family home for Shabbat dinner. One day, CeCe noticed something was different. Her friend, the Mazda mini van was gone and replacing her were three Land Rovers. CeCe was soon to learn that the Davis Family were moving to Colorado... and leaving her behind. She was inconsolable until she learned that Talia would be taking over as her new mother and she would be attending college with Talia. What an exciting adventure for a young car! Talia and CeCe got along swell these days... eating breakfast together in the mornings on the way to school... putting on make up on the way to school... listening to and rewinding and listening to again the Beastie Boys tape Adriana had gotten them.CeCe went to stay with their grandmother in Palm Coast while the rest of the family drove to Colorado. It was a short time before Talia was back to make the trek to college. CeCe enjoyed her time at Jacksonville University, despite the life long sunburn she endured from living outside in the Florida sun. She made trips to Atlanta, Orlando, New York, and Miami, living up the college lifestyle. There was much to get used to, though. Friends smoking cigarettes or "special" cigarettes in her, late night trips to the Gate station to get Krispie Kremes, and even a stint of CeCe being used as temporary lodgings for a short time when Talia didn't have a place to sleep. CeCe finished school at Jacksonville University in May of 2003 but stayed on that summer to assist Talia in managing the school's swimming pool. They then packed up and drove to Colorado. CeCe would often brag at how much Talia could fit in her and that Talia could move by only packing up the car and didn't even need a trailer.
Living in Colorado was challenging for CeCe to start. She was unaccustomed to the cold and the mountainous terrain posed some challenges for her engine. Talia and CeCe used to often joke that her A/C button was the turbo button since she could zoom faster with it off. This stems from a trip they took in Talia's senior year of high school to her camp, Camp Coleman, in the mountains of Georgia. The infamous driveway out of camp is very steep and CeCe would not be able to make it up unless her A/C was turned off. That was just one of many fun road trips they took together. Another memorable one was when CeCe and Talia drove 24 hours to get from Wichita to Jacksonville in one day so Talia could pick up her keys for her senior year of college. They danced and sung the whole drive... then both collapsed into their beds when they arrived at JU. The last of their big adventures was when Talia moved to LA. Once again, she packed up CeCe and they drove away. Both girls collapsed at 2am in Vegas, both seeing the Strip for the first time. However, neither Talia nor CeCe enjoyed LA and within 9 months, they were packing up again to drive back to Colorado, this time with their brother, Ronin, in tow. Talia and Ronin didn't plan so well and they packed CeCe full with the driver seat in a position so Talia (5'3") could drive... thus when Ronin (6'1") tried to drive, he couldn't move the seat and Talia had to drive the whole way. Along for the ride was Talia and CeCe's pet hamster, Fuzzy. Fuzzy believed that by running in her wheel, she was driving CeCe. Not wanting Fuzzy to feel sad, CeCe allowed her to continue feel that way. It was a sweet moment between friends. Sadly, this was also the trip that was life threatening for all involved. A blizzard hit Arizona while they were on the road. Despite Talia's safe driving and CeCe's best attempts, they hit a patch of black ice and spun out. After rotating three and a half times, all the travelers were scared out of their wits. They decided it was time to find a hotel for the night. In the morning, CeCe was buried under a couple of feet of snow. They dug out and continued their adventure home.
CeCe stayed close to home in her later years. Talia pushed her on a few trips up the mountain but she was getting older and just wasn't as spry as in her youth. Over the years, she developed some funny quirks and started to show her age. She lost her front bumper, had a partial bridge put in but soon lost it in an accident on I-25. She had her windshield replaced several times due to rock chips and cracking. In her later years, her tape player then CD player stopped working. Her radio dial would not respond to commands often going up when it needed to go down and down when it needed to go up. Her rear driver door stopped opening and passenger windows stopped going down. But funniest of her quirks was her turn signals. A true Florida girl, when the winter came in for good, she would stop automatically turning off her signals but when it warmed up for good she would start working as normal. Always a jokester till the end.CeCe lost her battle on June 14 at 9:05am at 13th and Monroe st, where she stopped a stop sign and never got started again. She was towed to a shop where she was pronounced dead at 11:16am. She is survived by her sister and best friend: Talia, her brother: Ronin, parents: Reb Bahir, Hedvah, and Iana, and many friends and extended family. Most notably of her friends, Justine Veree Naiman whose car preceded CeCe in death and was CeCe's best friend in LA.CeCe requested any tributes or flowers be sent to Talia to aid her in purchasing a new car... which CeCe also insisted on in her last puffs. The family will be sitting an abbreviated shiva as CeCe was a car and not technically Jewish (though she proudly wore a car mezzuzah on her kepi (head), a picture of the Rebbe around her neck (review mirror), and kept a Tanach inside her).Baruch Dayan haEmet (Blessed is the true judge)
Not all who wander are lost
All that is gold does not glitter,Not all those who wander are lost;The old that is strong does not wither,Deep roots are not reached by the frost.From the ashes a fire shall be woken,A light from the shadows shall spring;Renewed shall be blade that was broken,The crownless again shall be king.-- J.R.R Tolkien
Disclaimer: Please don't hate me, please don't stop reading, I know I just quoted Tolkien but I am not a huge fan. Nor have I seen the movies or really read the book. I just really enjoy this quote. I am lacking in the SciFi nerdty. It is something I struggle with every day. :) Thank you.The more I think about it, the more I realize that in the time-honored tradition of my ancestors... I am a wanderer. My people wandered all over the land from Cannan to Egypt to Israel to Jordan to Babylonia to (more recently) the Ukraine/Germany/Poland/Russia then (rather remarkably, actually) to England before wandering to the US of A. Once here, we didn't stop wandering... NYC, Rhode Island, Cincinnati, Champagne-Urbana, Florida, Los Angeles, Boulder, Denver... we have wandered all over.It used to be that I could pack pretty much all of my life into my 1997 Honda Civic. I mean you couldn't see out the windows but it all fit... even had a spot for my little hamster & his cage by the window back when he was my traveling companion. With the advent of social media I could be in touch with the friends I made over the years in any location I was in. People laugh at me now when they see I have nearly 1400 friends on Facebook. Surely you don't know all of them, they say. But that isn't true. I don't accept requests from people I haven't met in person. These are friends I have collected over the years during my time in different locations. Friends from JCC pre-school in White Plains, from Kindergarten in Illinois, from elementary school in one of the three elementary schools I went to, from Gifford Middle 6 or 7 or high school in Vero Beach, from Jewish camp in Georgia, from a semester in Israel in high school, from youth groups and theatre groups, from cheerleading, from college in Jacksonville, from working for Target in Colorado, from Gamma Phi Beta conventions, from acting in LA and London, from my relationship with Chabad all over the world, from grad school in Denver, from hanging with the Jews in Denver, from spending a semester in Israel again... this time as an adult... I am so used to packing the bags and moving on... but what if I want to stay where I am? What if I enjoy living somewhere and am sick of moving? Is that betraying my wandering ancestry?No, I don't think so. I've lived a long 30 years and I am happy to settle into a place that I find beautiful and enjoyable to live. Wandering has its benefits. I have experienced some AMAZING things in my life but it also has its drawbacks. There is never a childhood home to go to. I don't have deep friendships with that one group of people that I have known since I was born.I didn't wander because I was lost, I wandered because that was written in my DNA. Just as being a maggid, a storyteller is in my DNA. I am proud of that heritage and I am proud that I can recognize and appreciate it and still enjoy settling down.As Jews we have found ourselves settling into life many times. Sometimes in Eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel) and sometimes in Chutz l'Aretz ('the other lands' aka the diaspora). I think our periods of settlement, of non-wandering, is our time to recharge the batteries. Wandering sure takes a lot out of a person! This week's Torah portion is Bechukotai where G-d promises us the land of Israel but where G-d also warns us that we will stuffer from exile and problems if we forget our way. Maybe that is what wandering is... looking for the way, a way, one that perhaps we already know internally but we need to find the right place for us to live it. And sometimes that changes... and our location changes too.Perhaps this blog is wandering a bit but I guess my point is... don't judge anything. Not only is that not our place but also... all gold doesn't glitter... just because they wander, doesn't make them lost. Our Judaism has deep roots that won't wither... unless we forcibly expose them to the elements and forget to care for them. And sometimes, from the ashes of a decision or relationship or tragedy, a fire is rekindled or 'woken' (as Tolkien says... though I am not sure that word is correct... but it could be my Sunday brain).