WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD

Here is a wonderful song by Louis Armstrong.......
THESE are the things we should remember,
these are our daily blessings in life!!

I see trees of green........
red roses too
I see em bloom.....
for me and for you
And I think to myself....
what a wonderful world.
I see skies of blue.....
clouds of white
Bright blessed days....
dark sacred nights
And I think to myself .....
what a wonderful world.
The colors of a rainbow.....
so pretty ..in the sky
Are also on the faces.....
of people going by
I see friends shaking hands.....
sayin.. how do you do
Theyre really sayin......
I love you.
I hear babies cry......
I watch them grow
Theyll learn much more.....
than Ill never know
And I think to myself .....
what a wonderful world!!


AND THAT'S WHAT WE HAVE TO REMEMBER!
LOOK TO THE FUTURE - FORGET THE PAST.
THINGS ARE AND CAN BE WONDERFUL!

The 9 days are upon us

Eleven-year-old Liliane Gerenstein, born January 13, 1933 in Nice, France, wrote a heart-rending letter to God just days before the children of Izieu were sent to their deaths at Auschwitz:

This is real Emunah!

"God? How good You are, how kind
and if one had to count the number
of goodnesses and kindnesses You
have done, one would never finish
God? It is You who command. It is
You who are justice, it is You who
reward the good and punish the evil
God? It is thanks to You that I had a
beautiful life before, that I was
spoiled, that I had lovely things
that others do not have.
God? After that, I ask You one thing
only: Make my parents come back,
my poor parents - protect them (even
more than You protect me) so that I
can see them again as soon as
possible.
Make them come back again. Ah! I
had such a good mother and such a good
father! I have such faith in You
and I thank You in advance."


The number of children killed by Hitler and his Nazis is not fathomable and full statistics for the tragic fate of the children will never be known. Estimates range as high as 1.5 million murdered children during the Holocaust. This figure includes more than 1.2 million Jewish children, tens of thousands of Gypsy children and thousands of institutionalized handicapped children.Plucked from their homes and stripped of their childhoods, the children had witnessed the murder of parents, siblings, and relatives. They faced starvation, illness and brutal labor, until they were consigned to the gas chambers.This is the story of the children of Izieu - but there are no happy endings. In 1944 the Nazis from Lyon sent three vehicles to the tiny French village to exterminate the children of the orphanage known as La Maison d'Izieu. Here 44 Jewish children in age from 3 to 18 were hidden away from the Nazi terror that surrounded them.On the morning of April 6, 1944, as the children all settled down in the refectory to drink hot chocolate, the Nazis led by the Butcher of Lyon Klaus Barbie, raided the Home, throwing the crying and terrified children on to the trucks like sacks of potatoes.
The Jewish Children Of Izieu
The little children were deported to the Nazi death camp Auschwitz and murdered immediately upon arrival. Of the forty-four children kidnapped by the Nazis in Izieu, not a single one survived. Of the supervisors there was one sole survivor, twenty-seven year old Lea Feldblum.Beate and Serge Klarsfeld, who brought Klaus Barbie to justice in 1983, later wrote: "Forty-four children deported - no mere statistic, but rather forty-four tragedies which continue to cause us pain ..."
Sami Adelsheimer, 5
Hans Ament, 10
Nina Aronowicz, 12
Max-Marcel Balsam, 12
Jean-Paul Balsam, 10
Esther Benassayag, 12
Elie Benassayag, 10
Jacob Benassayag, 8
Jacques Benguigui, 12
Richard Benguigui, 7
Jean-Claude Benguigui, 5
Barouk-Raoul Bentitou, 12
Majer Bulka, - Albert Bulka, 4
Lucienne Friedler, 5
Egon Gamiel, 9
Maurice Gerenstein, 13

Liliane Gerenstein, 11
Henri-Chaïm Goldberg, 13
Joseph Goldberg, 12
Mina Halaunbrenner, -Claudine Halaunbrenner, 5
Georges Halpern, 8
Arnold Hirsch, 17
Isidore Kargeman, 10
Renate Krochmal, 8
Liane Krochmal, 6
Max Leiner, 8
Claude Levan-Reifman, 10
Fritz Loebmann, 15
Alice-Jacqueline Luzgart, 10
Paula Mermelstein, 10
Marcel Mermelstein, 7
Theodor Reis, 16
Gilles Sadowski, 8
Martha Spiegel, 10
Senta Spiegel, 9
Sigmund Springer, 8
Sarah Szulklaper, - Max Tetelbaum, 12
Herman Tetelbaum, 10
Charles Weltner, 9
Otto Wertheimer, - Emile Zuckerberg, 5

The month of Av is near. The 9 days and then Tisha B'Av. A time of reflection, recognition, understanding and T'Shuva.
I, for one, will be thinking deeply about this, about this little girl who was able to keep her emunah in the face of horror, and still praise Hashem.

Foolish Pleasure, & the true path to Hashem

You teased me,
Your eyes said you’d please me.
Your look gave me shivers,
of pleasure……you wanted “me”

But if to my ear I had held a shell,
I would hear the voices of others tell,
How you pleased yourself…..and very well.

Over a drink,
We drank each other in,
My thirst could not be quenched
And so I gave in.

I broke promises,
Closed my eyes,
No, no,… I don’t want to see
Images of what and who I might lose,
By this reckless gluttony.

Layer by layer, I unclothed my vows,
And gave myself away.

And oh, the passion and the joy
I gave my all, I wasn’t coy

I gave and took, and gave again,
I pleased you….
You took and took and took and then,
You……pleased yourself.

Oh, you foolish girl
Will you never learn?
**************

Sissel - Can't Go Back

Girl don´t be sad
You know what you´re not missing
No reason to feel bad
He don´t mean much with his kissin'
You´re going to make it through
You have always been surviving
I´ve got faith in you
And I know you´ll get it going
But you can´t go back
to what it never was
to repossess,
what you never owned
But you can´t go back
to what it never was
This is that time,
this is that time
when you´re better off alone
Girl don´t you see
There´s nothing more to see there
You´ve got a friend in me
And I will always be here
And you know it won´t be long
Until it´s all behind you
You will meet someone
Someone´s bound to find you
But you can´t go back
to what it never was
to repossess,
what you never owned
But you can´t go back
to what it never was
This is that time,
this is that time
when you´re better off alone
Even alone at night
You will be alright
You´re so strong – you will get over him
And there will be times
That I´ll expect these lies
Not to comfort – but remind you
But you can´t go back

FIGURE IT OUT

And coupled with these two pieces, there is a third and most important message that I want to convey. Tshuva! It's never too late to be better. No matter what we've done, Hashem is our father and if we are serious and really repent, He will forgive us. THERE ARE NO EXCUSES! No matter what we tell ourselves, that life wasn't fair to us, that we need more love, attention, etc. etc. There are no BUT'S and NO EXCUSES. Hashem wants us to live in a certain way, and to obey His rules, and we can't wriggle out of them, no way! For instance, someone might say, "Well, I give a lot of Tzeduka, and I have a lot of Shiurim, so that will tip the scale, might as well have some fun in this life too." Or a person might say, "It's so unfair, I got stuck in this loveless marriage, but I have 4 kids, so I can't really walk out on my wife, but why can't I find true love, I deserve to be happy" NO EXCUSES. If life is so bad with your spouse, then you must change your life first, and then hope to find love, but not to sin during your marriage.

Life is sometimes hard - there is no question about it. But we can't question this hard life - we have to try and live with Simchas Hachaim, to live a life of happiness and joy, while believing wholeheartedly in our religion, and trying to live up to it. And there is so much good in this world; we have to focus on the positive; give your attention to trust, respect, honesty, abundance education and peace. We will never run out of good things because there's more than enough to go around for everyone. You have the ability to tap into all the good stuff this world has to offer and you will dissolve negativity. We can do it!

"The key to everything is the way you start. All beginnings are hard, because you need to swing things around from one direction to the very opposite. But once you have made a start, you will soon become accustomed to your new direction and it will no longer be so difficult. Therefore you must marshal all your strength and steel yourself to make an energetic start. You must begin each time with ever-renewed fire and passion for Hashem. Start as if you had never begun before at all."

(Rebbe Nachman of Breslov)

ON BEING GRATEFUL........

Gratitude

What is the definition of gratitude? How can we be grateful when life keeps handing us lemons? How much lemonade can we make?

GRATITUDE is - Making something of beauty out of what we do have, incomplete as it may be.
The Mussar teachings on the attitude of gratitude are tough, because they don't let us feel sorry for ourselves, no matter how little we may have. One Mussar master began a talk with a thump on the table and the words, "It is enough that a human being is alive!" Then he ended his talk right there.

There is a story -- maybe an urban legend, but full of truth nonetheless -- concerning the famous violinist Itzhak Perlman.
One evening, Perlman was in New York to give a concert. As a child he had been stricken with polio and getting on stage is no small feat for him. He wears braces on both legs and walks with two crutches. Perlman crossed the stage painfully slowly, until he reached the chair in which he seated himself to play.
As soon as he appeared on stage that night, the audience applauded and then waited respectfully as he made his way slowly across the stage. He took his seat, signaled to the conductor, and began to play.
No sooner had he finished the first few bars than one of the strings on his violin snapped with a report like gunshot. At that point, Perlman was close enough to the beginning of the piece that it would have been reasonable to bring the concert to a halt while he replaced the string to begin again. But that's not what he did. He waited a moment and then signaled the conductor to pick up just where they had left off.
Perlman now had only three strings with which to play his soloist part. He was able to find some of the missing notes on adjoining strings, but where that wasn't possible, he had to rearrange the music on the spot in his head so that it all still held together.
He played with passion and artistry, spontaneously rearranging the symphony right through to the end. When he finally rested his bow, the audience sat for a moment in stunned silence. And then they rose to their feet and cheered wildly. They knew they had been witness to an extraordinary display of human skill and ingenuity.
Perlman raised his bow to signal for quiet. "You know," he said, "sometimes it is the artist's task to find out how much beautiful music you can still make with what you have left."
We have to wonder, was he speaking of his violin strings or his crippled body? And is it true only for artists? We are all lacking something, and so we are all challenged to answer the question: Do we have the attitude of making something of beauty out of what we do have, incomplete as it may be?
The Hebrew term for gratitude is hikarat hatov, which means, literally, "recognizing the good." Practicing gratitude means recognizing the good that is already yours.
If you've lost your job, but you still have your family and health, you have something to be grateful for.
If you can't move around except in a wheelchair but your mind is as sharp as ever, you have something to be grateful for.
If you've broken a string on your violin, and you still have three more, you have something to be grateful for.
When you open up to the trait of gratitude, you see clearly and accurately how much good there is in your life. Gratitude affirms. Those things you are lacking are still there, and in reaching for gratitude no one is saying you ought to put on rose-colored glasses to obscure those shortcomings. But most of us tend to focus so heavily on the deficiencies in our lives that we barely perceive the good that counterbalances them.
The Hasidic teacher Rebbe Nachman of Breslov writes, "Gratitude rejoices with her sister joy and is always ready to light a candle and have a party. Gratitude doesn't much like the old cronies of boredom, despair and taking life for granted."
There is no limit to what we don't have and if that is where we put our focus, then our lives will inevitably be filled with endless dissatisfaction. This is the meaning that lies behind the great biblical proverb, "Who is rich? Those who rejoice in their own lot" (Pirkei Avot 4:1).
When you live charged with gratitude, you will give thanks for anything or anyone who has benefited you, whether they meant to or not. Imagine a prayer of thanks springing to your lips when the driver in the car next to you lets you merge without protest, or when the water flows from the tap, or the food is adequate?
When gratitude is this well established, it is a sign of a heart that has been made right and whole. Gratitude can't coexist with arrogance, resentment, and selfishness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've decided to try my best and be grateful - not only for the obvious, but for those things that I thought were not benefiting me - and as I live my life, day by day, I see that even those experiences that bought me pain, have also bought me joy, and and have certainly been a teacher to me. So I am learning from each experience.
And I am grateful.

(subject matter and parts of this article were taken from the writing of Dr. Alan Morinis - "The Path of the Soul")

THE BREAK UP

Tuesday, June 26, 2006

This is an article I read recently that really touched a raw nerve. Can anyone else relate to this?
The Break Up

by Lauren Freedman
Three years ago, I went out with a boy I already knew. We'd met a few years before that, when he dated a friend of mine. He was a great guy. So when someone suggested setting us up years later, I was game.
We dated. He broke my heart.

Today is the anniversary of my first meeting with a man who changed the way I look at the world, at relationships; at everything - the relationship is long over now, but the lessons I learned have remained!

We had clicked powerfully at the beginning and, just as things seemed to be getting serious a few months later, he took a conversational detour one night: "I have no feelings for you," he informed me. I don't have the same ache in my heart for you as I did when I was away in Israel and yearning for you.

I felt as though I'd been tossed off a bridge.
Apparently, things had just... shut off.
For three agonizing weeks, I hung it out while he consulted various friends, rabbis, and his kishkes. The final answer - delivered via a friend! - was that he just couldn't. Just couldn't do it.
And then came the explanations from his proxies: He has intimacy issues, he'd shut down weeks before, he couldn't sustain it, he's afraid of commitment and afraid to rock the boat of his secure life.
I hadn't been the only one, I knew. He'd been engaged and broke it off, and, besides the dramatic ups and downs with the friend a few years earlier, hadn't been able to get into serious relationships.
"This isn't about you," a friend who knew him told me. "He shouldn't be dating. He is toxic."
"But he's a really good person," I protested.
"Perhaps," she said, "but how good can he be if he's leaving a body count behind him?"
In the end, we met once more and I told him that he was wonderful and kind and decent and would be a loving husband and father... but that he owed it to himself - not to mention to any women he might date - to work out these nefarious intimacy and commitment issues. And if he didn't, he shouldn't be dating.
I moved on, and I forgave him, and I would think of him only in passing... and without any bitterness at all.
A DATE CUP OF COFFEE?
Flash forward to last year. An email exchange and then a phone call to my office one day, and it was as if I'd spoken to him just the day before. We'd always cracked each other up, always had an easy, fun, simple intimacy... always just liked each other. And, in a moment, it was back and we both commented on it.
"I forgot how funny you are!" I said.
"I didn't forget how funny you are," he replied.
But I had. I'd forgotten how much I'd liked him, how much I'd loved him. And I had forgotten how he'd broken my heart.
Just as I was thinking that it was too bad we couldn't be just friends, he asked me if I would have a cup of coffee with him.
"A friendly cup of coffee or a date cup of coffee?" I replied, perplexed.
"A date cup of coffee," he said, evenly.
"But why?"
"I never got over you."
"Never got over me?" I laughed. "The last time we spoke, you said you 'had no feelings' for me! Why would this time be any different?"
He explained: He remembered everything I had told him that last time we saw each other, and I had been right. He had had serious problems with intimacy and commitment. He had been seeing a therapist, had worked on them, and now, he said, he felt ready to try. He had support and awareness and motivation.
I laughed - vindication coming three years later. But now that I remembered how crazy I'd been about him, I remembered how I'd been hurt. And I didn't want it to happen again. I wasn't sure. I said no.
I kept saying no for a week or two, until he finally went to see a teacher of mine and - with me anxiously awaiting her more-wise-than-me verdict - convinced her that he was serious, and ready to work. He was in a different place.
And so it began, Again.
The connection, the friendship, the fun, the chemistry were all there - but better. He was more emotionally available, more sensitive to my needs, patient with my own fears. For a few months, it just felt good, despite my occasional worries that he'd shut down like he had before. He termed these my "emotional pings" and was supportive and patient and kind each time.
He opened up more than he had before - more, he said, than he'd ever been able to before - and I understood the deeper issues. His fears, the reasons why he had behaved the way he had. He took responsibility for hurting me, for the fact that he ran. He understood my fears, and he was patient with my own imperfections and struggles.
At first, I was afraid to "let go" and trust that the relationship was real; I kept waiting for him to run, but he reassured me with his words and his actions and things were good. I slowly let myself go, let down my guard, believed that this might be, at long last, It. I stopped wondering when he would disappear and I trusted him. I was happy.
We discussed the future in general terms. We spent time with each others' friends.
When people - his friends more forwardly than mine - pressured me about when when when, I laughed them off. I knew he needed to take his time, and I was in no rush. I could wait; he was worth it.
SPACE AND MORE SPACE
But then it began.
It started slowly. A night gone sour, he revealed too much and withdrew. A bump in the road. I thought.
The sourness clung to us somehow. He couldn't let it go, needed space and more space. I tried to give it to him. I tried to ignore my own discomfort, my own fears. I tried to soften my own dramatic responses.
Our dating expanded to include a roving cast of therapists, rabbis, trusted friends, experts - parachuting in to help him explain that he was having trouble communicating, trouble moving ahead.
It was a classic case: like me, he comes from a less-than-Brady-esque family, and then he lost his parents at an early age. He learned early that love leads to loss and that letting someone in would lead to pain.
But he was trying. He needed time, space. He needed me to help him work through his fears, his problems.
His therapist explained that letting me in was terrifying because he'd learned too many times that love leads to pain and loss.
But I was already in. And I believed in him. And I believed in us, and I believed - devoutly, more than almost anything I'd believed before - that our imperfections balanced each other out, that our strengths made the other a better person. Never had I felt more acutely the sense of having been made for someone. It wasn't sunshine and roses, but I knew that together, we could build something solid and true.
And so I rode it out as best as I could. As soon as I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he'd reappear - the man I adored, respected, admired - and I'd remember why I was still there.
All The Experts concurred with what I saw: He was working so hard, trying so hard... and I loved him more every day for it.
But then finally the twisting and turning stopped and it happened. Again.
He just couldn't do it. He couldn't move forward. He was sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry...
He kept repeating the word, as if it meant a thing. As if the word could do anything to make me feel whole when I was shattered, when I felt utterly foolish for having waited it out, for believing in him, for giving him chance after chance after chance...
As if there was anything that anyone could say that could ease feeling abandoned by someone who had become my best friend.
GLORIOUS HINDSIGHT
That kind of pain, of course, can be healed only by time. But the secondary pain is the voice whispering constantly in the back of my head that I was a fool, that I put myself in harm's way, that I should have known better.
Could I?
In retrospect, it's easy to go back and point to this and that, all the signs of the eventual ending. But it would be just as easy to point to all the things that gave me - and everyone else - hope.
#1: Clarity about why you're dating. From that first phone call, the agenda was on the table: This relationship was about seeing whether we're suitable for marriage.
It was on the table because I had a warning sign: the previously crashed and burned relationship. But he took responsibility for that.
#2: Expressed readiness to get married. He acknowledged the problems that had derailed him before, had worked on them, and had support this time. When someone dates and dates and dates, says dating expert Rosie Einhorn, some meaningful change has to happen before he or she can take that step forward. It could be going into therapy, some sort of a psychological breakthrough (an epiphany of sorts), or some galvanizing event - but something has to change. It's nice to think that we're all just waiting for the right person... but chances are that the thing that needs to be set right is within the person who can't move ahead.
#3: A normal progression of feelingsThe real warning signs for me started when the gloom descended - when he claimed he couldn't move forward while I was ready to go ahead. There needs to be parity in a relationship. Once either partner feels that the other is significantly ahead, that's a major warning sign - especially if the one lagging behind is one with a history of commitment or related issues.
All relationships have bumps, but there are warning signs when there's a constant tangle of worries about feeling "pressure" (especially when you're not pressuring), a surfeit of inexpressible fears, or some other knot that prevents the normal progression of a relationship. Things don't need to move at break-neck speed, but they do need to move.
Sub #4: Owning your own issues. I was being shlepped from therapist to rabbi and back, helping him work on the issues he had that were blocking us. I was only too willing to help him in whatever way I could, to look at how my actions were affecting him, etc. This is a normal part of any relationship. But I should have grasped more clearly that the issue was his, not mine.
A romantic relationship, I realized too late, is too volatile a connection to "try" as a test case. His issues should have been resolved - or at least progressed significantly - before I entered the picture. He should have first "tried" with his friends, his family, his therapist... not his girlfriend. You can't do that sort of work in a relationship where the question of "breaking up" is always on the table. The safety both sides need isn't there. It was a totally unreasonable expectation of himself, and an unfair burden to place on me.
#5: Get a game plan. Ultimately, says Rosie Einhorn, in a case like this one, where it's the second time around, the game plan should be very clear: 10 dates, and then a decision (for example). When she suggested that, in retrospect, this would have been a good plan, I immediately knew that it would have been too much pressure. My boyfriend-that-was could never have agreed to it. And therein lies the answer: Could I have predicted the outcome? Perhaps so. It's one thing to not rush a relationship, but knowing from the get-go that minefields surround every possible move indicates that, in fact, he just couldn't do it.
TAKE THE GAMBLE
So now... with all the glorious, clear vision of hindsight, perhaps I could have known. Perhaps I did set myself up to be knocked down once again. But does it matter? Maybe there's a lesson to be learned, and hopefully I will internalize it - once my wounds have closed over a bit.
For now, I feel as if I gambled and lost. I was given a taste of something so sweet - being with a man so worthy of love and respect, who made me feel like I was a better woman when I was with him - and it was taken away from me for no good reason I can really accept.
But at least I know that I had the courage to gamble.
And I just have to be ready when the next bet comes along.
THIS HAS BEEN A WONDERFUL YEAR FOR ME, AND AT THE SAME TIME, A VERY TOUGH YEAR FOR ME - BECAUSE OF HIM. I GAMBLED. I LOVED. I LOST. BUT IT'S NOT OVER FOR ME YET. SOMEONE MORE WORTHWHILE WILL COME TO ME. I AM VERY SURE OF THAT, BECAUSE I KNOW THAT I AM WORTH IT!!

:The author's name is a pseudonym. : http://www.aish.com/dating/wisdom/The_Break_Up.asp
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Any stories for Margarita Girl relating to this?

TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON AND A TIME TO EVERY PURPOSE, UNDER HEAVEN

It's time to turn off the light
I am going to close my site.

I hope you enjoyed my posts
It was my pleasure to be your host.

Your comments were always a delight,
Even when bloggers got into a fight.

My friends, this is the end .....
My last entry I do now send.

I wish you all a happy and healthy New Year.
May Hashem bless you & all those you hold dear.

Goodbye,

~~~~ Margaritagirl~~~~

FORBIDDEN LOVE..........

She woke up on Shabbos morning and looked at the clock near her bedside.

8:45 am.
Her first thoughts were not of her husband, nor of her children. As she opened her eyes, her very first thought was of him…….She had been dreaming of him, and suddenly awakening, had to face the reality that he was not with her. Nor would he be all of that day.
We shall not go into all the little details that make up a day. But the day did finally come to an end. The lovely Shabbos, that was meant to be a day of rest, a "Yom Menucha," was the hardest day of the week for her and had been so for several months now.
All day she had been thinking of him. Wanting to be near him. Wanting to tell him something funny that had just occurred to her. Wanting to share some story from her past, or tell about an amusing incident that had happened at work this week. Aching for him, she did all the things one must do to get through the day without any unpleasantness in her household. Her family must not know what is lying behind that agreeable smiling face, as she serves the shabbos food at the table. Nobody can see into her heart, into her very being, as she struggles to keep a smile on her face, while all the time thinking of the last time she was with him.
And so the day ends, the havdala has been recited……….She reaches for her cellphone, turns it on, and checks for messages. None. Ok, ok….don’t panic, she tells herself….. After all, shabbos has just been over for 20 minutes now. He will call very soon. And she is so sure that he will want to meet her tonight. He loves her as she loves him. Of this she has no doubt. She spoke to him just hours before Shabbos, and she was with him just yesterday. But - she wants to be with him every minute of every day. Not just yesterday, and maybe tonight or possibly tomorrow, if he can break away from his family. Yes, he is also committed to another. He has another life just as she does. It is very hard for him as well. She knows that.
She has already showered; she is wearing something new that was purchased with just him in mind. . She had been to the beauty salon the day before, had in fact spent hours just for him. She is in a perpetual state of readiness for his last minute calls; she knows that they cannot plan in advance; they must wait for the opportunity, whenever it will be. She understands; it is hard but she understands.
A close girlfriend had called on Friday, wanting to get together on Saturday night. She hemmed and hawed, and finally said that she would love to, but would not be certain that she could go until after havdala., Could her friend call her back then? Yes, of course, the friend said, and now – here it was – Saturday night. He calls. He tells her that he is going out with his family to a friends house. He speaks in a friendly casual way, but she knows that underneath that light manner, is a heart that beats for her. But he cannot say it, and he knows that it is foolish to say it. He is more logical than she is. He sees things for what they are. Dreams are for children, and he is grown up.
They love each other – that is a fact.
Her friend phones and yes, she is free to see her friend. They make plans for the evening, and all the while there is a hole in her heart that seems to be getting bigger and hurting more and more each minute. She tries to ignore it.
She will go out with her friend.
Tomorrow. She will see him tomorrow…………….

The phone rings...........He asks "Sherry baby, can you come out and play? I miss you."

She calls her friend..........who, of course, understands, she cancels her plans with her girlfriend - and with a happy heart goes to meet him.

Two natures beat within her breast.

The one is cursed, the other is blessed.

The one she loves, the other she hates.

The one she feeds will dominate!

BLOGGERS - DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THIS? DO YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO IS IN THIS POSITION?

I understand my friend, I do not want to judge her; she is a wonderful person and a true friend to me.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOUR FRIEND ASKED YOU TO ALIBI FOR HER/HIM??

They met purely by chance

Theirs was not an office romance

How could they have known in advance

The course this would take - this dance?

Do you think that they suffered no pain?

Do you think that they felt no shame?

And who, is the first one to blame?

The were drawn like a moth to a flame.

He melts inside, each time they meet,

She hears his name, her heart skips a beat.

How do they describe this feeling

Pure ecstasy, blissful, heart-healing.

Floating away to another place....

Far away - leaving no trace

Just the two of them in paradise.

Where they can be as one with no compromise

They hold on to their beautiful dream

Is it possible?

But from this dream, they must return

Back to their senses and realization

Back to a world they wish to escape

Awakened to the truth of what's right and what's wrong
And what is not theirs - at least for now.........

I'M GIVING IT TO YOU STRAIGHT! YOUR LIFE IS NOT A COINCIDENCE. IT'S A REFLECTION OF YOU!

Here's a cartoon that I scanned from this week's

New Yorker........clever......made me smile!

And - here's a sign that I saw in a friend's house, that I really liked and made a copy of. It is now hanging in a prominent place in my office and is getting quite a lot of comments..........what do you think?

****************************************************

MOUNTAIN STORY

A son and his father were walking on the mountains. Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams; "AAAhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!"

To his surprise, he hears a voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain, "AAAhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Curious, he yells: "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"

And then he screams to the mountain: "I admire you!"

The voice answers, "I admire you!"

Angered at the response, he screams; "Coward!"

He receives the answer; "Coward!"

He looks to his father and asks: "What's going on?"

The father smiles and says: "My son, pay attention."

The father screams out, "You are a champion!"

The voice answers: "You are a champion!"

The boy is surprised, but does not understand.

Then the father explains: "People call this ECHO, but really this is LIFE.

It gives you back everything you say or do.

Our life is simply a reflection of our actions.

If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart.

If you want more competence in your team, improve your own competence.

This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life;

Life will give you back everything you have given to it.

I DO IT MY WAY!

I've gotten quite a few e-mails from readers who comment on my blog; most of them are complimentary (thank you) and some of them have complaints; They write that my posts are too cutesy, my posts are too sad, my posts are too happy and la di da, my posts are too goody, goody. One person noted that I should give my page "FIRE & LIGHTNING". Another is upset that I do not respond to the rude comments that some leave for one another. He says that it shows that I condone such crude conversation. ???? There is no pleasing everybody, and furthermore this blog was started by me in order to express my feelings, my views on life, and for a place to vent and get feedback. Enjoy!

THIS IS MY BLOG AND THESE ARE MY FEELINGS;
I DO IT MY WAY
And now - in case you care,
From some of you, I have been hurtin'
Friends and bloggers, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.

I blog my thoughts on life
I try to explore each and every highway
Against all odds, and from my heart,
I do it my way

Criticisms, I have a few
But then again, too few to mention.
I write from my point of view
And I see it through without exemption

I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway
But more, much more than this,
I do it my way

There are times, I'm sure you know,
When my subjects caused quite a row.
But through it all, when there is doubt;
I read it through and kicked it out.
I face it all and I stand tall;
And I do it MY way!

I write, I read, I have a laugh,
I've had my fill with those who quibble.
My style won't change - not by half,
My thoughts on life, I continue to scribble....

To think I do all that,
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no, not me,
I do it my way!

For what is a person, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels
Let the records show - I take the blows
And I do it MY way!

IS IT BETTER TO "BE AN ISLAND"? Never to let anyone see behind the "stranger's" face?

THE STRANGER...... (Billy Joel)

Well we all have a face,
That we hide away forever;
And we take them out and show ourselves,
When everyone has gone.
Some are satin, some are steel,
Some are silk and some are leather,
They're the faces of the stranger.....
But we love to try them on .
Well we all fall in love,
And we disregard the danger;
Though we share so many secrets,
There are some we never tell.
Why were you so surprised,
That you never saw the stranger?
Did you ever let your lover,
See the stranger in yourself?
Don't be afraid to try again,
Everyone goes south,
Every now and then;
You've done it, why can't someone else?
You should know by now,
You've been there yourself.
Once I used to believe,
I was such a great romancer,
then I came home to a woman
That I could not recognize
Though I pressed her for a reason,
She refused to even answer
It was then I felt the stranger
Kick me right between the eyes.
I may never understand
How the stranger is inspired,
But he isn't always evil,
And he is not always wrong.
Though you drown in good intentions,
You will never quench the fire
You'll give in to your desire
When the stranger comes along

We all put on a face to the world, (that's when we wear the "stranger's" face.) We have a private face, our true face; which no one ever sees; but then we fall in love, we let our guard down, and reveal our true face to that one person and sometimes that person needs to put on the "stranger's" face himself. Deep down, he is still the same person that you love, but sometimes he may seem out of character. If that is so, and you see the "stranger" in his face from time to time, "true love" will always offer a reason for strange behaviour. There are times when even a true, true love, occasionally acts like a "stranger".

Then again, sometimes you think you know the person's real self, and it turns out that he was actually the "stranger" all along..........

Even though that may happen, and many times does, we should not be afraid to try to love again, and trust someone again...........

I think that this song is an exploration of the secret self we all have, which we all hide from others... but eventually, this self will always reveal itself, and it will always have its way.

What do you think? This song really intrigues me and I wonder how others interpret it.

A GOOD WORD CAN MEAN SO MUCH...

I was in New York the other day and rode with a friend in a taxi. When we got out, my friend said to the driver,

“Thank you for the ride. You did a superb job of driving” The taxi driver was stunned for a second, then he said. “Are you a wise guy or something?”

“No, my dear man, and I’m not putting you on. I admire the way you keep your cool in heavy traffic.”

“Yeh,” the driver said and drove off.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I am trying to bring love back to New York,” he said. “I believe it’s the only thing that can save the city.”

“How can one man save New York?"

“It’s not one man. I believe I have made the taxi driver’s day. Suppose he has twenty fares. He’s going to be nice to those twenty fares because someone was nice to him. Those fares in turn will be kinder to their employees, or shop-keepers, or waiters, or even their own families. Eventually the goodwill could spread to at least 1,000 people. Now that isn’t bad, is it?”

“But you’re depending on that taxi driver to pass your good will to others.”

“I’m not depending on it, “ my friend said, “I’m aware that the system isn’t foolproof, so I might deal with ten different people today. If, out of ten, I can make three happy, then eventually I can indirectly influence the attitudes of 3,000 more.”

“It sounds good on paper,” I admitted, “but I’m not sure it works in practice.”

“Nothing is lost if it doesn’t. It didn’t take any of my time to tell that man that he was doing a good job. He neither received a larger tip nor a smaller tip. If it fell on deaf ears, so what? Tomorrow there will be another taxi driver whom I can try to make happy.”

“You’re some kind of a nut, “ I said.

“That shows how cynical you have become………”

We were walking past a structure in the process of being built and passed five workmen eating their lunch. My friend stopped. “That’s a magnificent job you men have done. It must be difficult and dangerous work.” The five men eyed my friend suspiciously.
“When will it be finished?”
“June,” a man grunted.

“Ah, that really is impressive. You must all be very proud.”

We walked away. I said to him, “I haven’t seen anyone like you since ‘The Man of La Mancha.’”

“When those men digest my words, they will feel better for it. Somehow the city will benefit from their happiness.”

“But you can’t do this alone,” I protested. “You’re just one man.”

“The most important thing is not to get discouraged. Making people in the city become kind again is not an easy job, but if I can enlist other people in my campaign….”

“You just winked at a very plain looking woman,” I said.

“Yes, I know,” he replied, “And if she’s a schoolteacher, her class will be in for a fantastic day.”

Imagine what life would be like if this campaign of goodwill would succeed.

HERE IS ANOTHER EXCHANGE, WHICH IS SUCH A WAKE UP CALL TO ALL OF US; At a funeral service, everyone left the cemetery except for the mourning husband and the rabbi. The husband remained at the grave for a long while; finally the rabbi approached him. “The service is long over, it is time for you to leave,” he said.
The man waved him away. “You don’t understand. I loved my wife.”
“I am sure you did,” the rabbi answered, “but you have been here a very long time. You should go now.”
Again, the husband said, “You don’t understand. I loved my wife.”
Once again, the rabbi urged him to leave.
“But you don’t understand,” the man told him, “I loved my wife-----and once, I almost told her.”
Can you imagine the sense of shame if you have to stand at a grave and bid farewell, and realize then what you didn’t say when you could have, when you should have, when there was still time?
(from the book “Words that hurt, words that heal, by Joseph Telushkin)

We are now in the 3 weeks. Soon it will be Tisha B’Av. We will fast, we will try to repent for the sins that led to the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh, because of ill will---Because people were not kind to one another.
The classic story of Kamtzu and Bar Kamtzu tells it all.

Can we, perhaps, start the repair with one sentence at a time? Say thank you to the toll booth attendant. Compliment your neighbor on his tidy lawn. Remark to the salesclerk that she looks like she lost some weight and how nice she looks. Tell the teller in the bank how efficient she is, and that it is a pleasure to do business with her.
Can we do it??

FALLING IN LOVE.........Only fools rush in?

It’s what we want. What we’ve always wanted, since we were barely in our teens. We listened to the songs on the radio, watched it in the movies, and oh….we wanted to feel that wonderful love, love, love.

~~
Ever wonder why the phrase is “falling” in love?
According to my dictionary, the word fall means the following;
A disastrous overwhelming defeat or ruin,
A sudden, involuntary drop to the ground,
collapse,
decline….descent….and so on.
~~
Sometimes love can feel like the closest thing to heaven and sometimes love can feel like you've been run over by a car. You actually “fall”, you plummet downward. Love is the best thing for the heart, but it can tear your life apart. It's as sweet as summer rain - but it can hit you like a train, and fill your heart with pain.

Here is an excerpt from an article, titled “The Telephone Call”
~~
Please God, let him telephone me now. Dear God, let him call me now. I won’t ask anything else of You, truly I won’t. It isn’t very much to ask. It would be so little to You, God, such a little thing. Only let him telephone now. Please, God, please, please.
If I didn’t think about it, maybe the telephone might ring. Sometimes it does that. If I could think of something else. Oh, please ring, please.
This is the last time I’ll look at the clock. I will not look at it again. It’s ten minutes past seven. He said he would telephone at five o’clock. “I’ll call you at five, darling.” I think that’s where he said “darling”. I’m almost sure he said it there. I know he called me “darling” twice, and the other time was when he said goodbye. “Good bye, darling.” He was busy, and he can’t say much in the office, but he called me darling twice. I want him so much, I miss him so much. I’ll be good, God, I will try to be better, I will, if You will let him phone me. Oh, please let him phone me now.
Maybe the clock’s fast. I don’t know whether it’s right. Maybe he had to stay late at the office. Maybe he went home, to call me up from there, and somebody came in. He doesn’t like to telephone me in front of people. Maybe he’s worried, just a little, about keeping me waiting. Maybe he’s hoping that I might call him. I could do that. I could telephone him.
I mustn’t, I can’t, I shouldn’t. Oh, God, please don’t let me call him, please keep me from doing that. I won’t telephone him. I’ll never call him again as long as I live. He’ll rot in hell, before I’ll call him up. You don’t have to give me strength, God, I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I’m waiting here. He’s so sure of me, so sure.
Maybe I mis-heard him. Maybe he said for me to call him at five. “”Call me at five, darling.” He could have said that. It’s so possible that I didn’t hear him right. I’m almost sure he said that… “call me at five, darling”.
I’ll think about something else. I’ll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. Maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. Why do they write that? Don’t they know it isn’t true? Don’t they know it’s a lie, it’s a god-damned lie? Why do they have to say it, when they know how much it hurts. Damn them, damn them.
Please God, please. I’ll count to five hundred, please let him call before then, please.
One, two, three, four, five…………..

~~
go ahead you can have my heart,

It's been through a lot

a little more won't break it.

I might look ready to fall apart

but give it everything you've got

this heart of mine can take it.

you can't appreciate the sunshine,

till you've seen the rain

Tell you something you can be sure of

there can be no perfectly pure love
you can't have love

you can't have love without pain.

you take the heartache away

and you'll never hold on to the things that remain

you can't have love

love without pain.

so you cry a tear every day,

or you find out that you've lost

more than you've gained.
give me something i know is real

make it strong enough

so there can be no doubt about it

being numb that's no way to feel

I'd rather suffer love than live my life without it

can't expect to climb a mountain

and see no rough terrain

even if I find that I'm hurting

that's ok cause one thing for certain ......

~~~

AIN'T LOVE GRAND?

and of course, the answer is......yes, yes, yes,.....love is grand, even with all the pain, and the uncertainty, and the wishing and waiting and hoping - it's all worth it. For what is life without love??

That's my opinion and my experience....What about you?

OBSERVATIONS FROM A TRAIN...ON THE WAY TO WORK....

It's a hard life after all, it's a hard, hard, life....

As I sit in the train, I look about me. I see a wrinkled old lady, lugging two heavy shopping bags full of gift-wrapped boxes. Did she spend her last dime for these gifts? Will the recipient appreciate her good intentions – or will she still be considered “the old nag?”

There, sits a shabbily clothed man. A brown paper lunch bag rests on his lap. He looks beaten – tired and overworked, unappreciated and under-estimated. He probably works too many hours – and all this, for what? So that his wife can keep up with the Jones’? (or the Schwartz') So that his children are not deprived of anything? And is his family grateful for all this – or do they demand more of him?

Here stands a woman, deep in thought. Are her thoughts cheerful – or is she thinking about the argument she had with her husband this morning? Does she dread going home to him?

I see a young man carrying a bouquet of flowers. Are these flowers for his mother who is in the hospital, dying? Or are they for the woman whom he wishes to impress? If so, will she act or react as he expects her to?

In all aspects of life, people try so hard to please, and suffer so much in the process. Their suffering, however, would be diminished or even forgotten if only their well-meant efforts were appreciated.

I sit here and watch. Practically all the people about me are tired or depressed, or worried, or heart broken, or confused, or………

What a sad world it seems to be.
Any thoughts on my thoughts?? Do you ever feel this way? And don't tell me that I'm being unduly gloomy.....it's reality.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

Once upon a time, in a tiny hut, there lived a little old man, whose name was Mr. Stone. He was a very poor man and, because of this, he had to work many long hours, hunched over his work-bench. Although everyone knew Mr. Stone as a simple shoemaker, he was, in fact, a deep thinker-----a philosopher. As he sat, night after night, mending shoes by the light of a dim candle, his mind wandered into far-away places. He pondered the mysteries of the world in general and of people in particular. In a word, he wondered what made people "tick." HOW DID PEOPLE GET ALONG WITH ONE ANOTHER. HOW SHOULD PEOPLE GET ALONG WITH ONE ANOTHER.....

One dark, moonless night, Mr. Stone was deeply engrossed in his work when he heard a knock at the door. He couldn't imagine who would be calling upon him at this late hour; nevertheless, he set aside his work and labored his way to the door. When he opened it, he saw a man whom he had never seen before, and he knew instinctively that he would never see him again. Mr. Stone invited the man into his hut and offered him the only chair he possessed. When they started talking, Mr. Stone realized that this was no ordinary man. This mysterious visitor knew everything about Mr. Stone; he even knew something nobody else knew---that Mr. Stone was a thinker. The man invited Mr. Stone to join him on an exciting journey. He told Mr. Stone that he would see interesting things during his trip, and that he would learn a great deal from it. Mr. Stone was very curious. He decided to join the man and see for himself what this was all about. He locked up his hut, and away they went.

It was still dark when, from afar, they saw a towering castle. As they approached it, Mr. Stone saw how magnificent it was. The marble pillars were beautifully engraved; they were decorated with gold and silver trimmings. The precious stones, which were embedded in the castle's walls, shone so brilliantly, they practically lit up the night.

The two men entered the castle. They walked through a long and narrow passageway until they reached a big, closed door. Mr. Stone looked at the man expectantly; the man opened the door and led Mr. Stone in. The room was huge. There was a large table in the center, with all kinds of tasty food set on it. It looked like a feast had been prepared for the many people who sat at the table. Mr. Stone noticed, however, that all the people sitting in the room were thin and emaciated; they looked like they hadn't eaten for days. If they were so starved, he thought, why don't they eat? He also wondered why they looked so glum and didn't even talk to each other. Then he looked at them a little closer. Their arms were unusually long; strangely, they were also unable to bend their arms at their elbows. As a result, they were able to spoon the food out of their platters, but they could not bring it to their mouths. This, thought Mr. Stone, was frightfully sad.

The man then showed Mr. Stone into another room which was strikingly similar to the one they had just left. There was, however, a difference----the people in this room were joyous and friendly, and were happily partaking of the delicious food which was before them. They too. Mr. Stone observed, had long and unbending arms. Despite this handicap, they ate. As Mr. Stone watched, he saw each person dish the food out of his plate and feed his neighbor with it. Nobody in the room was able to bend an arm; yet, they were all able to eat.

The man led Mr. Stone out of the room and out of the castle. They looked at each other for a brief moment, and then the man disappeared. Mr. Stone walked homeward----back to his hut, his work-bench, and deeper thoughts.

C'mon people now,

Smile on your brother

Ev'rybody get together

Try and love one another right now...........

~~~~~~~~~So, whaddayasay guys? Although we all kid around and fight things out, it's all in good humor, isn't it?

IS THE GRASS ALWAYS GREENER?

Sometimes it certainly looks that way.

Many times there is no cure for a marriage that has died…a marriage that is “flat-lined” and cannot be resuscitated. No therapist, rav, or marriage counselor has been able to help revive the relationship; In a marriage like that, you might have to “pull the plug”. A divorce is certainly a painful experience. For the husband. For the wife. For the children. For parents. Divorce should always be the last option. After everything else has been exhausted.

Sometimes you don’t give a damn if the neighbor’s lawn is greener than yours.

The only thing is……...…you’d like to have a nice lawn too!!

A divorce gives one a second chance to find a partner for life who is truly a “soul mate”. With the right partner one can do anything, be anything, say anything……..They simply connect!! The value of such a connection is priceless. They are 2 halves of one whole.

It’s wise to remember the following song, and then review what

you DO have; what you MIGHT HAVE, is something good that is

lost and can be found again.

~~~

I was tired of my lady,

We'd been together too long.

Like a worn-out recording,

of a favorite song.

So while she lay there sleeping,

I read the paper in bed,

And in the personal columns,

There was this letter I read:

"If you like Pina Coladas,

And getting caught in the rain.

If you're not into yoga,

If you have half a brain.

if you'd like making love at midnight,

in the dunes on the Cape,

Then I'm the love that you've looked for,

write to me and escape."

I didn't think about my lady,

I know that sounds kind of mean.

But me and my old lady,

have fallen into the same old dull routine.

So I wrote to the paper,

took out a personal ad.

And though I'm nobody's poet,

I thought it wasn't half bad.

"Yes I like Pina Coladas,

and getting caught in the rain.

I'm not much into health food,

I am into champagne.

I've got to meet you by tomorrow, noon,

and cut through all this red-tape.

At a bar called O'Malley's,

Where we'll plan our escape."

So I waited with high hopes,

and she walked in the place.

I knew her smile in an instant,

I knew the curve of her face.

It was my own lovely lady,

and she said, "Oh it's you".

Then we laughed for a moment,

and I said, "I never knew.

That you like Pina Coladas,

getting caught in the rain.

And the feel of the ocean,

and the taste of champagne.

If you'd like making love at midnight,

In the dunes of the Cape.

You're the lady I've looked for,

Come with me and escape"..........

~~~

My mother always says,*

" Before you buy new - see if you can repair the old"

What do you bloggers think? Any experiences? any stories?

THE BLISSFUL COUPLE

Summer's here - A time for vacations. A time to reconnect and recharge the batteries.
A time for relationships to blossom; At the beach, the mountains or even in your own backyard, in your gazebo, with a gin and tonic and soft music as the background. Doesn't it feel sinfully delicious? Of course, much depends on whom you're with; Here is a perfect couple. Their love will never die............if only all our relationships could be so tender, so giving, so full of assurances that our love is returned unconditionally............

They laugh together.
Read together.
Dance together.
Paint together.
Listen to music together.
Walk, holding hands, together.

They love exchanging
Warm
Wet
Mushy
Kisses.

He rushes to greet her,
His arms outstretched,
Joyfully calling her name,
When he sees her arrive.

Who, are you wondering,
Is this blissful couple?
She is his grandma.
He is almost five.
(Dorothy Parker)

CAT'S IN THE CRADLE.....

Monday night. 6/27/2005
My heart is broken………..I spoke to an elderly man today, who called upon me for help. He lives with his wife, just the two of them, alone. His wife has Alzheimer’s disease. They have 2 children, who live in another state, and rarely do they come to visit. He is a proud old man, and he does not tell his children how bad things are. And, being that the father doesn’t complain, the children think that all is well, and so they do not think twice about it. After all, the children have their own lives, their own problems, their own families, jobs, whatever………..
And the old man and his wife are alone. Dependant on social security and a tiny monthly check that the children send (to ease their conscience, I’m sure) I’m trying to get some help for this elderly couple and I am in touch with them by phone to see how they are managing. During the year, the organizations that I am involved with, have volunteers who cook and deliver to the homebound. During the summer months, these volunteers are away in the country, and it’s hard to continue the program in July and August. I made calls to other organizations, and services for the elderly. I called a group that helps specifically Holocaust survivors. I called women who routinely are happy to help a person in need. I was ready to start cooking meals for them myself and delivering to them daily……….
Wednesday, 6/29/2005
Finally – I’m able to help this old couple. I went to see them, and I brought dinner for them. I spoke to the husband. The wife is totally not able to communicate clearly, and she does have a caregiver from the city through medicare, ( thank G-D for that). After I left them, I was in touch with someone that I got ahold of through someone else, and someone else, and I went through a whole routine….but I DID manage to arrange for help. Fresh meals will be delivered every 2 days, each delivery will have meals for both of them for every day of the week. On Friday, for the shabbos food, I committed myself to bringing over the entire shabbos meals, from grape juice, and challa, to soup, chicken, side dishes etc. I just got off the phone with Mr………...…, such a nice person, and he kept apologizing to me, for taking up my time. HE was apologizing to ME……......I’m happy that I’m able to help, yet at the same time, I’m so sad that there are so many people who are utterly ALONE!!

The Boy and the Apple Tree (adapted from a story by Shel Silverstein)

A long time ago, there was a huge apple tree and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and play around the tree. He would climb up her trunk and swing from her branches and eat her apples. And when he was tired he would sleep in her shade.

He loved the tree and the tree was happy.
Time went by.
The little boy had grown up and he no longer played around the tree every day.
The tree was lonely.
One day, the boy came back to the tree and he looked sad. “Come and play with me” the tree said. “I am no longer a kid, I do not play around trees any more,” the boy replied. “I want toys. I need money to buy them. Can you give me some money?” “Sorry, but I have no money. I have only leaves and apples. Take my apples, boy, and sell them in the city. Then you will have money and you will be happy.” The boy was so excited. He grabbed all the apples on the tree and carried them away. And the tree was happy. The boy did not come back. He stayed away for a long time….

..........and the tree was sad.

One day, the boy who was now a grown up man, returned to the tree, and the tree shook with joy. “Come and play with me” the tree said. “I do not have time to play. I have to work for my family. We need a house for shelter. Can you give me a house?” “I have no house said the tree. But you may chop off my branches to build your house.” So the man cut all the branches of the tree and left happily. The tree was glad to see him happy but the man stayed away for a long time.

And when he came back, the tree was so happy, she could hardly speak. “Come, boy,” she whispered, come and play.” “I am too old and sad to play. I want to go sailing to relax myself. Can you give me a boat?” said the man. “Cut down my trunk to build your boat, You can sail far away and be happy.” So the man cut the tree trunk to make a boat. He went sailing and the tree was happy…….but not really.

Finally, the man returned after many years. “Sorry my boy. But I do not have anything left to give you. “No more apples for you,” the tree said. “ I do not have any teeth to bite with,” the man replied. “No more branches for you to climb on” the tree said. “I am too old for that now” the man said. “I really cannot give you anything. I am just an old stump. I wish I could give you something,” the tree said tearfully. “I do not need much now, just a place to rest. I am tired after all these years,” the man replied. “Well," said the tree, "an old stump is the best place to lean on and rest. Come, come sit down with me and rest.”

The old man sat down, and the tree was glad and smiled with tears.

This is the story of everyone.
The tree is like our parents.

When we were young, we loved to play with our Mom and Dad.
When we grow up, we leave them and only come to them when we need something or when we are in trouble.

No matter what………
Parents will always be there and give everything they can just to make you happy.
We take our parents for granted and don’t appreciate all they do for us until it’s too late.

We want our children to be there for us in our old age – Let’s remember to honor our father and mother and be there for them………..They did so much for us.........

MARRIAGE......the real story

What the movies don’t tell you..........

(something cute that I read this weekend - I laughed, and I thought you might too! Anything sound familiar?)

So, are you ready to get married?” I asked my best friend, David, as he, my other best friend, Miri and I sat down to eat lunch at a sidewalk café in Beverly Hills. I had flown to California for somewhat of a last hurrah, since he was the final one of us to tie the knot and would be a married man by the month’s end.
David looked puzzled. “I’m ready,” he snapped as he spread a napkin over his lap. “I bought an extra pillow.”
Miri and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We could tell that our little friend had some very lofty ideas about sharing your life with someone as if you were the only one that mattered; just like a man.
“Hannah’s the nice partner,” David explained about his betrothed. “I’m the bossy one. She understands that. We have that understanding.”
“None of us is the nice partner in our relationships,” Miri smirked. “All three of us are the mean one. But that doesn’t matter. Things still change.”
“Like you might as well get rid all your CDs now, because in two weeks, she’ll think that they all suck,” I said.
“And you should carry roughly five dollars in quarters with you at all times so you can call her from wherever you are, or better yet, get a cell phone with lots and lots of minutes,” Miri added.
“And instead of falling asleep to music, it will be white noise,” I quipped. “Women need that. I have a fan.”
“I have a wave machine. Happy hour will be a thing of the past. There’s something you do instead now,” Miri inserted, “It’s called dinner at home.”
“And after you come home from work or after five o’clock,” I stated, “you need to ask her if you want to go back out again.”
“Unless she sends you to the store,” Miri mentioned.
“Unless she sends you to the store,” I confirmed.
“Forget about being the first one to get the mail anymore,” Miri said. “You’ll never get unhandled mail again.”
“And if you find jelly or ice cream on the remote control,” I insisted, “it’s a totally natural thing.”
“After you get married, you’ll never be as funny at home as you are at work,” Miri added.
“And when she laughed at your jokes before, she was faking it,” I said.
“Once you’ve told a story, you need to retire it,” Miri announced. “Because every time she hears a story more than once, she’ll hate you a little more, and a little more.”
“And never read to her from a book or magazine article aloud,” I declared.” “She’ll never think it’s as interesting as you do.”
“If she gets sick,” Miri said, “You have to hold her and clean it up and then kiss her afterward.”
“But other than that instance, if you’re initiating the kiss, you need to brush your teeth first,” I added.
“Her sexual obligation to you expires in two years,” Miri stated. “And should she decide to oblige you after that, you should be very, very grateful.”
“And you’re never allowed to say, ‘boink’, ‘do it’, or ‘get it on’, I informed David. . “Or wake her up in the middle of the night when you’re…….overwhelmed by your……..man desire.”
“You could get suspended for that,” Miri whispered.
“If she’s not talking to you, like when she’s reading a book or watching TV, that means she’s BUSY,” I nodded. “And you need to be quiet.”
“And when you feel the need to go to the bathroom, you should ask her if she needs to go first,” Miri announced.
“And if there’s some potato chips or cookies in a bag, don’t eat them,” I said. “She might not be done with them, and may want them later at some point. Just because there’s food in the house doesn’t mean it’s fair game.”
“And if she asks you if you want to share a dessert at a restaurant, that means she wants some,” Miri added. “And it’s in your best interests to say yes.”
“And when you’re at your parents’ house and she yawns for the first time, it means it’s time to go,” I said.
“If the phone rings, and you don’t think it’s for you,” Miri added, “you still have to pick it up anyway.”
“If she comes home and there’s a drunk guy on the couch, and another one drinking beer and you’re watching cable, expect to be in big trouble,” I informed him.
“If she buys a bar of soap that isn’t white, it is not for you,” Miri stated.
“And if she asks you to do several things, it’s not okay to just do the last thing she said because that’s the only one you remember,” I asserted.
“Be honest with yourself; set the alarm for the time the Real You will get up, not the Ambitious You, because the Ambitious You doesn’t really exist,” Miri added.
“At night, if she takes the covers, just get used to being cold,” I stated. “It’s more important for her to be warm. A simple draft can render her infertile, and then your family name will die with you.”
“And that’s selfish,” Miri added.
“That’s selfish,” I agreed.
David stared at us for a long, long time, trying to take it all in. As I studies his face, I got the impression as he furrowed his brow and crinkled his mouth that he was about to cry. Suddenly I panicked. Had we said too much? Had we been too honest? Had we scared him horribly? Was he thinking about jumping ship? I looked at Miri and realized that she was looking at me with the same awful look on her face that I had on mine.
What had we done? We were the mean ones, after all!
“Maybe you’re right,” he finally said, “Maybe I’m not so ready. How could I be so stupid? What am I thinking? Am I OUT OF MY MIND?!
Miri and I didn’t know what to say. We just sat there, horrified, our mouths hanging open, getting ready to protest. WHAT HAD WE DONE?
“I don’t have any extra pillowcases!” David proclaimed as he stomped his foot, and then looked at us, smiling wickedly. “Gotcha!”

BEAUTY OR THE BEAST REVISITED - ON A LIGHTER NOTE!

It's Motzei Shabbos, and I thought - let's have some fun with this; But guys & gals - make no mistake about it --- it's still a serious topic (only not tonight)

Setting: Boy and friend on one side of stage
Girl and friend on other side of stage :

both sit in front of computer screens in their homes.

Boys side of table
B :Hey Jared Dude- take a look at this girl's picture on JDating Website, dude she is a total babe!!
J: Like Dude, she is a beautiful baby- totally send her an email dude, and let's go hit the keg, at that Jewish frat party
B: Totally Dude, but what should I write her? I mean she's a total hottie.
J: Dude - just say - wasssup baby how about you and I take a ride on the Jewish car of love.
B: Dude you're a genius:
Dear (looks closer) "Fraydie613,"
J: Fraydie?
B: Yeah dude. Dear Fraydie613, you are certainly the sweetest thing on the internet. Do you want to take a ride in my jewish love car, there is nothing to be afraid of.
(both laugh) heheheh------------------------------

Girls side of table
F: Shani Shani! come quick, Boruch Hashem, I finally received an electronic message from that dating website your aunt put my picture on, I am so excited I may just have to put on my shabbos suit and finish all of tehillim.
S: OH fraiyde - I am so happy for you! Perhaps, bezras Hashem this could perhaps be your..... Bashert
F: Shani!
S: Whoopsy, Knanine Hurah!
F: Thats more like it Shani.
S: So, nu, what did this shtark boy have to say?
F: Well, he first called me very sweet, and asked me for a date, in his car! He said there was nothing to be afraid of. Such a Yiras Shamayim!!
S: He is perfect!
F: Wait till you see his picture. here, isn't he cute?

S: Oy veh! (she turns away) he is not wearing a shirt! Where are his tztizis? And no kippah!
F: Hello! Earth to Shani – isn't it obvious?
S: No.
F: it is a picture from the mikvah!! He's obviously very frum.
S: Fraydie - you are so right - dan l'kaf zechus.
F: (typing) Dear Brian, I certainly think you are sweet too and I would love to take a ride with you in your fancy car
S: Maybe you should ask him how frum he is?
F: Oh, You are right Shani (typing). Also do you want your wife to wear pants? Cause I do not wear pants.Let me know. Toodles. Fraydie

Back to Guys Side
B: Dude -
J: Yeah dude
B: Fraydie wrote back. I am the luckiest man alive!
J: Why Dude?
B: Read this, she doesn't wear pants! Dude
J: Huh?
B: Nothing Dude! She's a free spirit. Probably walks around without pants everywhere!
J: You are the Luckiest dude alive
B: (typing) Dear Fraydie, I'd like to meet you...As Soon As Humanly Possible. I've always dreamed of meeting a girl who doesn't wear pants. I give you credit – that's very bold of you. What other items of clothing do you not wear? Do you get cold? Where does someone like you like to go on dates? -Brian
F: Dear Brian. I will never wear a short skirt, and I can't stand tank tops or anything that is too tight. In my opinion, it is all disgusting. Where should we go? I feel a hotel lobby is always quickest and easiest -Fraydie
B: DUDE!
J: DUDE!
B: She wants me to take her straight to a hotel!
J DUDE!
B: This Internet dating website is amazing!
J: Ask her if she has a favorite hotel, you know.
B: ok: (types) Which Hotel?-----
F: My Rebbi and my father always tell me to go to the Marriot. It's the most public of the hotels, that way people can see us, watch us. And we'll have no problem of it being just us, you know,
and no problem of yichud.
B: DUDE
J: DUDE
B: This is getting weird. Her dad and Rabbi told her what hotel to use! And she's not interested in it just being alone - this girl maybe too much for me to handle! And she mentioned someone named Yichud? Who is that?

J: Dude, I have no idea, but I like what I'm hearing...

B: Dude, maybe she doesn't wear pants either!

J: DUDE!

B: (typing) Dear Fraydie - the Marriot sounds good to me - and as far as I'm concerned, I like the sound of Yichud already! I'll make sure to bring my friend along. - Brian

F: Dear Brian, this is really sounding great. It's nice to know you are so frum that you would like to bring a friend along to not have a problem with yichud. You are very sweet and very frum, and I feel

we already are connecting in ways I can only dream about. Let's go out tonight if possible. The more I think about it the more I feel - this really could be Bashert!!!

B: Dear Fraydie, I'm totally excited for this! In fact, a dude like myself has spent years dreaming of a night like this. Who knew Internet Dating could be so amazing. Send me your address asap and I'll be at your place with my friend Jared tonite at 8pm. So, no problem with Yichud. We'll head straight to the Marriot. My treat. No pants would be fantastic. This is really gonna be amazing. I can really feel it. Oh, and one last thing .......

....... Who is Bashert, and does she need a date too?

All The Lonely People..........

Beauty.......or....The Beast?

I ran into an old friend of mine today. I hadn't seen her in quite a while. She and I started talking about the good old days, and we caught each other up on our respective lives. While I had remarried, she had divorced and is now living with her two young children and trying to cope with the loneliness. Yes - she's busy - she has to work in order to pay the rent and the tuitions, but once the homework is done, the dishes washed and the children sleeping, the remote control and a gin and tonic are the only company she has.

Oh, of course she has many friends. They are always inviting her for a shabbos meal, to their simchas, etc. But - they have their own little families. Their own lives. And so - she is lonely.

What to do?

There are so many lonely people in the world; so many lonely people in New York; so many lonely people in Brooklyn. EACH DIVORCE CREATES TWO MORE LONELY PEOPLE. How do they cope? How do they go about the arduous task of trying to connect with that special someone, that "soul mate" that they've been yearning for? That something that was missing in the marriage that they just abandoned?

Many people are happy to be alone; they cherish their independence, and as far as friendship, they feel no lack. They have no wish to be saddled once again with that albatross they call marriage. As a friend of mine once said to me, (he's happily divorced) "Marriage is an institution and I have no wish to be institutionalized." So - for those folks, it's a good life.

But -"Man is not an island" and most singles are looking to meet someone and again try to be part of a couple. When everything else fails, many turn to the internet. For the orthodox, there are a variety of sites that promise happiness. Frumster and JDate are 2 of those.

HOW DOES ONE KNOW WHO IS BEHIND THE COMPUTER SCREEN THAT IS SENDING THOSE E-MAILS WHICH SET THE HEART RACING? IS IT BEAUTY? OR IS IT THE BEAST?

Well, dear readers, my friend had some very interesting experiences on those sites. Here is what happened.

She eagerly signed up on Frumster, polished up her profile and was very honest about what she wrote. She gave her correct age, number of children, etc. She got many replies and many photos were e-mailed to her. She got excited. Oh how fabulous. Life was going to be good again. So many men, so hard to choose. Well, she selected candidate number one and started an e-relationship that quickly blossomed into promises until a date was set for a visual - face to face. On a Saturday night. A babysitter was arranged, a new outfit purchased, she treated herself to a facial and a manicure to ensure that she look her best.

Ah! - - the doorbell rings. He's here!! She opens the door...........Wha.....what is this? is this a teenager selling cookies for school? Oh no, dear readers, this is her date! He finds it amusing to meet women online. Not girls, oh no - he wants a W.O.M.A.N. with no inhibitions.......someone who's been there and done that, and he's hoping will do it to him!! After a few minutes of awkward conversation (on her part - after all, he was ready) she closed the door, removed her makeup and new dress, put on her p.j's and settled in with a pint of Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia and an old movie on TV. (complete with tears in abundance)

This is what she told me. She also told me about the date that showed up and did headstands in her living room to show her how fit he was.

And the one who had to leave at 10 pm. because he was in a halfway house and had a curfew

(geez - he forgot to mention that on his profile)

Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice

in the church where a wedding has been

Lives in a dream

Waits at the window, wearing the face

that she keeps in a jar by the door

Who is it for

All the lonely people

Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words

of a sermon that no one will hear

No one comes near

Look at him working, darning his socks

in the night when there's nobody there

What does he care

All the lonely people

Where do they all come from?

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

Ah, look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church

and was buried along with her name

Nobody came

Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt

from his hands as he walks from the grave

No one was saved

All the lonely people

Where do they all belong?

Do you know someone who is alone? A friend that you've been meaning to invite, but were always so busy..... a neighbor who sits at her window and watches as your family sits around the shabbos table singing z'miros?

How can we help?? We must help!

Any thoughts on this? Let's share them and maybe, just maybe, at least one lonely heart will feel lighter....

MIKVAH - A MITZVOH TO CHERISH. In memory of my grandmother. Her yartzeit is today.

GRANDMOTHER (written by me - for my Babi)

Mother of my mother
Who’s name I bear;
You died so young
You were among
6 million innocents
Why?
What did they do?

I never heard you speak
Or felt your hand upon my cheek.
All gone
Why?
What could my ancestors have done
To cause this monstrous situation.
They went about their little lives
Bothered no one
But still, they did not survive
To hold a grandchild on their lap
To share a hug, a laugh, a pat.
Why?
What did they do?
Am I right?
Is life cruel?
Or
Is there a reason…..
But I do not have the answer yet.

THE RITUAL BATH

In the Bochnia ghetto, there came a day, when the German troops marched in and decided that a mass killing was the sport they wanted to engage in. Among the people caught that day were an especially large number of young women. These women knew full well what would happen to them. They discussed something among themselves and selected a spokeswoman. She was a very attractive young woman in her early twenties. She walked over to the German officer in charge, and said; “We know the inevitable. You will murder us as you murdered the other innocent Jews before us. We demand that you grant us our last wish.” “Granted,” snapped the German as his hand lovingly caressed his pistol. “And what is it, may I ask?” he said in a derisive tone. “We demand that the ritual bath house, closed since your occupation of our town, be reopened, heated, and cleaned, and that we be permitted to take our ritual bath of purification,” said the young woman.
For more than half a day the women cleaned the ritual bath house and filled it with water. Then they cleaned themselves and immersed themselves in water as prescribed in the Laws of Purification.
As they were led off to be shot, the German officer asked for the young lady who had approached him. He said: “You are a filthy race, the source of all disease and vermin in Europe. Suddenly, before your death, you wish to be clean. What spell did you cast in that ritual bath house of yours?”
“Cleanliness and purity of body and mind are part of our tradition and way of life. God has brought our pure souls into this world, in the pure homes of our parents, and we wish to return in purity to our Father in Heaven.”
The German officer took out his pistol from his holster and at close range shot the woman between the eyes. Most of the other women were also killed that day.
(from the book, “Hasidic Tales of the Holocaust”)

Today is the Yartzeit of my grandmother, who I never met, and whom I am named after. She was among these brave women, who held on until the bitter end, with faith and emunah never leaving her. I won’t tell you all the stories, I’m sure you’ve heard many hair-raising tales, of what our brave ancestors did in the name of yiddishkiet and in the face of this brutality

How do you think the present generation would have acted, felt, forfeited for, honored the religion which we hold so dear? We have heard many stories, this is only a small example. Do you think we would have stood fast? WOULD YOU HAVE STOOD FAST?
In our easy day and age, when the mikva (the ritual bath) is made so accessible, ( and so attractively laid out) don’t we find it an inconvenience sometimes? Nail polish must go off, so much time spent when we could be doing other things, embarrassment sometimes, not wanting to be seen there by others. And on and on and on.
I want to dedicate this to the memory of my grandmother, and I would like to hear your thoughts, your family experiences, your feelings about this. Please comment; let’s hear your thoughts – all kidding aside, kvetcher, cynic, etc. I love you, but; "For everything there is a time... A time to laugh, a time to cry...A time to be serious and reflect"

LOCKED IN -- OR LOCKED OUT?

Motzei Shabbos…….

Es geyt shoin avek der heiliger shabbos,
In shtibel is lichtig, in shtibel is shtil,
Dee Mama zugt shtil der “got fin Avruhom”
Zee zugt dee t’filla mit hartz un gefeel…
Oy – Got Fin Avruhom, fin Yitzchak in Yaakov
Farnem shoyn mayn tifilah in dayn himlicher geshtel
Inn shik shoen mayn mazel
Un reef oys mayn broche,
Az lichtig sohl veren iber dee gantze velt.

(TRANSLATION)

The holy day of Shabbos is now departing
In the room it is bright, in the room it is silent,
Mothers whisper the “God of Abraham”
They whisper the prayer with whole heart and feeling.
Oh, G-D of Abraham, of Yitzchak and Yaakov
Accept my prayer in your heavenly setting
And send already my fortune
And announce already my blessing
That a bright light may illuminate the entire world!

I feel locked in, yet I also feel locked out.....
Do you ever feel yourself being pulled in two directions? Not physically and not literally – but inside yourself. A struggle within. On a Shabbos or YomTov is when I tend to feel it most. Not every Shabbos or every Yomtov, but those are the times that such feelings are prone to come to me in waves, heavily, and without logic or reason, but – there they are.

I feel locked in, because the day is long, the quiet is oppressive, the atmosphere inside my home is not peaceful, and I get restless. I gaze at my car, sitting in the driveway…….and think….oh, if I could just get into my car and drive away, get out, get out of here.

I feel locked out, because although I try to achieve the spark and the spirit and joy and the harmony of the wonderful Shabbos and Yomtov, I can’t always feel it……it seems to elude me many times . I’m locked out!! Others feel the joy! Others can let go of the daily grind to rejoice in these special days………..I try and I fail.

So - I imagine that if only I could go to---------

Aruba, Jamaica oh I wanna take you

Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama

Key largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go…

Off the Florida keys,

There’s a place called Kokomo,
That’s where you wanna go,
To get away from it all,

Bodies in the sand,

Tropical drink melting in your hand…

We’ll be falling in love

To the rhythm of a steel drum band,

Down in Kokomo

Aruba, Jamaica oh, I wanna take you

To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama

Key largo, Montego, baby why don’t we go

I wanna take you down to kokomo

We’ll get there fast

And then we’ll take it slow

That’s where we wanna go

Way down to kokomo

To Martinique, that Monserrat mystique

We’ll put out to sea

And we’ll perfect our chemistry

By and by we’ll defy,

a little bit of gravity

Afternoon delight……

Cocktails and moonlit nights.

That dreamy look in your eye,

Gives me a tropical contact high

Way down in Kokomo

Everybody knows

A little place like kokomo

Now if you wanna go

And get away from it all....

Go down to kokomo...

Where do I really want to be………I'm pretty sure that it’s not KOKOMO. I think I’m fooling myself if I think that’s going to make me happy......

IF

Thanks to everyone who commented on my previous blog. It was a record for me! 243 comments as of my writing this!

It's Erev Shabbos, and until my next post, which I hope will be on Motzei Shabbos, read the following poem and tell me what your thoughts are. Do you identify with this? Can you learn something from this? What is the message here?

IF:
If you can keep your head when all others around you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you;
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, yet you don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, you don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t let ego rule , nor talk too much or wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the will which says to them: “Hold On!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

By Rudyard Kipling

SEX AND THE CITY - OUR CITY!!

I’m back!
Had a very busy week, and still do – but I missed the blog, and I had something to get off my (34-B) chest, so here I am.

I am on the board of a large community organization. We had our bi-weekly meeting yesterday, and some disturbing news, that apparently everyone knew about except for me, was one of the topics discussed.

FACT: A fifteen year old girl in Williamsburg, recently gave birth to twins. She is naturally a single girl, living under her chasidishe family’s watchful eyes, yet – “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” and she had a boyfriend………the twins were given up for adoption, the girl was sent to Israel for a year, to a girl’s school, and the identity of the girl is being kept (trying to anyway) quiet.

FACT: A sixteen year old girl in Williamsburg, just had an abortion………same circumstances.

FACT: A kallah in Williamsburg has gone to her Ruv with this sheila…….being that she is a victim of long term abuse by her father and no longer a virgin, is she obligated to inform her chosson.

I heard more at this meeting, believe me……but I won’t go into each and every case - too numerous to relate.

The dilemma facing the community leaders is; how to keep the teenagers at home – how to keep them happy at home, so they do not feel the need to explore the outside world with all it’s glitz and glitter on the surface, and the ultimate heartbreak that will ensue.

Is a moment of excitement and lust worth a lifetime of shame?

Is the sin of sex before marriage, possible abortions, unwanted babies, worth the guilt that will stay for always and ever?

Yes – the Rabbonim have imposed a 10 p.m. curfew for single girls.

Do they really have the naivete to not know that

“whatever Lola wants Lola gets”?

Curfew or no curfew…….

Their curfew is no solution at all. Rather the opposite. It will make it more exciting to sneak out, hang out with the wrong crowd.

Has anyone read Pearl Abraham’s first book, “The Romance Reader?" Although she writes it in novel form, it’s based on her own life, growing up in Monsey, being choked by restrictions, marrying someone her parents chose, and ultimately leaving the chasidic world. It’s a wonderful book, written with honesty….

The answer is to make the children and teenagers feel loved and respected at home. Don’t say NO to everything! Allow them the video games, allow the library books, take them to Eichler’s to choose books and music that are jewish oriented, take them to museums, go bowling with them, play scrabble with them, let them go bike riding in a park that is safe.

DON’T GIVE THEM SO MANY RESTRICTIONS THAT THEY

WILL FEEL LIKE PRISONERS IN THEIR OWN HOMES.

Because then - they will plan a breakout – for sure!

Give compliments and praise their accomplishments, don’t just lecture them and put them down. Don’t focus on the bad mark they got in geography. What about the A that they got in History? Teach and parent with kindness, teach by example. Give them a warm, loving atmosphere in the home – they won’t feel the need to escape if that is so.

What was the atmosphere like in YOUR home when you were growing up?
Do you think that if things had been different, you might have grown up to be happier?
Would you have been more religious?
Did YOUR parents give you the love and warmth that you needed?

I WANT TO FLY TONIGHT......

I'm tired. Too much to do, too much to take care of, at work, at home, with friends, and family, things I've been ignoring.....

(not to mention the obsession with my blogging)

The following song -( can you guess where it's from?? HINT - a movie that was a bit hit, a while ago...a long while ago. )

is how I feel right about now.

So - here it is, I plan to take a day off from the blog. Yes, lost spirit, yes, chayala, I will take a day off.........but in the meantime, talk to me - let me hear from you,

so that when I come back in 24 hours, apprx. I will come back to the sweet greets

of my cyber-pals!! Ciao for now...........

I want to be bad
And not even care
I want to go out of my head somewhere
I want run crazy
Like the dogs in the yard
I want to cut the rope
But it's getting so much harder

I think I'll play poker
Stay out every night
Throw stones at the water
In the morning light

I want to be lazy like the dogs in the yard
Why can't I fly tonight?
Why can't I sleep all morning?
I'm going out of my mind tonight
That's where I'm going
That's where I'm going

Gonna have a good time
Before it's too late
Come on, baby, let's go uptown and celebrate
Gonna celebrate!

We're gonna run crazy
Like the dogs in the yard
we're gonna fly tonight
we're gonna sleep all morning

We're going out of our minds tonight
That's where we're going,
That's where we're going

The Gambler and The Rabbi - A message??

Here is the well known song by Kenny Rogers
and the yiddish version - read it carefully until the end....when I ask...

THE GAMBLER

On a warm summer’s evenin’ on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin’, out the window at the darkness
’til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak.

He said, son, I’ve made a life out of readin’ people’s faces,
And knowin’ what their cards were , by the way they held their eyes.
So if you don’t mind my sayin’, I can see you’re out of aces.
For a taste of your whiskey, I’ll give you some advice.

So I handed him my bottle, and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette, and asked me for a light.
And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
Said, if you’re gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away, and know when to run.
You never count your money, when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’, when the dealin’s done.

Now ev’ry gambler knows, that the secret to survivin’
Is knowin’ what to throw away, and knowing what to keep.’
cause ev’ry hand’s a winner, and ev’ry hand’s a loser,
And the best that you can hope for, is to die in your sleep.

So when he’d finished speakin’, he turned back towards the window,
Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness , the gambler, he broke even.
But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away, and know when to run.
You never count your money, when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin, ’ when the dealin’s done.

You got to know when to hold ’em, know when to fold ’em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count you r money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.

THE RABBI

On a warm summer's evening
On a ride to Monticello
I sat next to a rabbi
We were both too tired to sleep
So we took turns staring
Out the window to the darkness
Till boredom overtook us
And he began to speak

He said,

"Yoh, ich bin an alter - Un s'tit mir vei di beiner,
Un Chotsh di burd iz lang un grois, ich hob a sach gezen ,
Gib aher a bissel bronfin, Vel ich zugen gitte eitzes
Veil ich zay in deine pleitzes , Vos iz bei dir geshen. ....

"So I handed him my bottle
And he drank down my last swallow
Then he mooched a cigarette
And asked me for a light
And the night got deathly quiet
And his face lost all expression..

He said,

"Ich gei dir yetzt zugin Dem yisod fun yidishkeit.

"M'darf vissen ven tsu koifen, Vissen ven tsu loifen ,
Vissen ven tsu dreien git, Un ven tsu handlen fein,
Besser red nisht vus m'darf nisht, Un gei nisht vi e m'tur nisht ,
Yo, s'iz git tsi furen, besser iz tsi bleiben in der heim.

"Yeder Chochem veist , Az a yid miz zein b'simcha ,
Danken borey oilam, Far alles vos men hut .
Inn halt di torah teier ; Veil dortin brent a feier!
Un gib a sach tzedukeh , Veil parnuseh kimt fin Got.

"And when he finished speaking
He turned back to the window
Said Borey Nefoshos ,
And faded off to sleep .
And somewhere in the darkness,
My soul, it started burning,
For in his final words ,
I found A strength that I could keep.

M'darf vissn ven tsu koifen - Vissn ven tsu loifen,
Vissn ven tsu dreien git , Un ven tsu handlen fein .
Besser red nisht vus m'darf nisht - Un gei nisht vie m'tur nisht,
Yo, s'iz git tsi furen, besser iz tsi bleibin in der heim.

I see a deeper meaning here ... do you?? What is your impression of this song?

What do you think it means for the average person?

What lesson is it trying to teach us?

"WHATEVER WILL BE, WILL BE...."

Here is another poem that I've written............ which is self-explanatory

(I think)
maybe some of you can identify with this. If so, let's hear from you! even if you can't relate - let's hear from you too!

Read this post until the very end - because I've added a post-script that might explain this a little.

When I was a little girl,
My mother sang this song to me;
"Whatever Will Be, Will Be"

But even so,
how was I to know
that she would go
and give me away
on what should have been my very special wedding day.

But - she gripped my arm,
and led me down the aisle,
to my destiny; --- crying inside, I forced a smile.
I was docile.
My parents ruled.
So, into wifehood
and motherhood
I joined........for a little while.
~~~~~~~~~
The above poem was written by me, late at night, after my marriage ended; during a pity party that I held for myself. (after a few drinks, I become very poetic)

I'll tell you briefly how it came about that I stood under that Chupa.
Going out on a date was not even considered; This was Williamsburg, and the procedure was that the parents of the boy and the parents of the girl would first meet and discuss. The mother of the boy might want to check out the girl to see if she's pretty enough for her "Tachshit", so she would go and take a glimpse of the girl, where she worked, or wherever.
The father of the girl, of course needed to find out if this bochor knows how to learn. He would appear at the boy's yeshiva, observe him (undercover) and sometimes - even go to the mikva in the morning when the boy went, just to see that he doesn't have an unpleasant physical form. ( I am not kidding. I know about a case like this)
Anyway, if all went well so far, then the next step was the "b'show"..........and this is how it goes. The boy and his parents come to the girl's house, the girl is introduced to the boy, and the two sets of parents adjourn to another room, to give "the couple" some private time to converse. (and to decide in one hour whether they want to spend a lifetime with each other) So..they all arrived, and the two sets of parents went to another room to give us that wonderful "privacy" :-( I mean, I could hear them breathing heavily, trying to catch every word we said. We talked for an hour and a half - I could see that he was already planning what to buy me for our 50th wedding anniversary, but I was certainly not on the same page. After they left, my father turned to me and said, "NU?" and I shook my head N O, no, no, no. My father started ranting and raving, "Nobody is good enough for you, yadda, yadda. And he ran to the phone to call my uncle, whom he consulted about every little thing. Did I mention that at this time ( at the ripe old age of seventeen) I had seen two other boys, and refused both of them. This was the third boy.....three strikes and you're out! My father wasn't having any of my nonsense, and he was very vocal about his displeasure. After much drama and trauma, just to get them off my case, I agreed to see the boy one more time. The parents (my-future in-laws) and the boy, (the father of my children) came over for a second viewing of the merchandise, (ahem) same scene - different day.....Repeat histrionics after they left. My father threatened, my mother cajoled, my uncle explained that love comes after marriage (yeah, sure, and there IS a tooth fairy too) There was no getting out of this, unless I wanted to leave home, and strike out for myself. It was NOT done to go against your parents. Cut to the chase, I caved in. Because I knew that if it wasn't this one, it would be another one just like him. My parents wanted something for their children that was entirely different than what I wanted for my future. All through the months of my engagement, I cried. Every day I cried. I begged them to let me break the engagement; here's what the answer to that one is - It's a big sin to break an engagement - it is less of a sin to get married and then get divorced.

Are you with me so far?

And that, folks, is how I came to be a Mrs. ( I DID get divorced a few years and a few children later - and the only wonderful thing to come out of that marriage are my children, who are my life and joy)
What do you think of that?

PS... Don't think too harshly of my parents. They loved me then, and they love me now.

Maybe the following poem that I wrote a while ago, will help you understand;

~~ ~~

I was three

when America was shown to me.

My parents,

changed forever by devastation,

that ultimately caused their relocation.

No mothers left,

No fathers.

No brothers or sisters.

Gone - the life they knew.

They had to start anew.

There were so few

Why?

And How?

To raise again a family,

Hashem - give them the strength......

Aren't they the 10 Commandments? not suggestions?

RELIGIOUS INTERRUPTUS ;

I had a conversation with a business acquaintance yesterday that left me feeling very disturbed.
This friend was telling me that he is in a new relationship. ( he's jewish, but that's an accident by birth, he tells me - he just happens to work here in Boro Park)
"Oh, great" I said to him, I'm so happy for you. Who is she?"
He replied, "She's a married woman, lives here in Boro Park, has 4 children, wears a sheitel, and she's good in bed." (am I allowed to say that on a blog site?) He then proceeded to tell me, that the last 4 or 5 "relationships" that he had prior to this one, were also with married women in Boro Park. I know he's telling the truth, because I know one of the women, and she did have a fling with him.
This conversation flabbergasted me!
Of course, I'm not living on a different planet, and I know that sometimes these things happen, one falls in love, some leave the life, and remarry outside of the boundaries that we have --- but to hear that it's common -- to hear that it's being done all over, is mind boggling. He tells me he can get most any married woman here for a sexual encounter, because they are, for the most part, frustrated in their intimate life, their husbands are not good bed partners, selfish with little regard to the wife's pleasure.
Answer me - what do you think of this?
I simply can't get it out of my mind.
I mean - I know that "people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones" - but I was not married when I rebelled . What's going on in this "so called" frum/chasidish/litvich/yeshivish community???
AND THEY WERE HYSTERICAL OVER THE SHEITEL ISSUE A WHILE BACK?? IS THIS WHAT'S IMPORTANT TO THEM - NOT ADULTERY?
What happened to the Ten Commandments? Is there a "heter" that I don't know about?

CONFUSION

I can see from the comments to my blog that I belong to a large community of rebels! Some are X-Rebels, and some are still looking for Nirvana
Sometimes…..
I feel compelled
And emotionally overwhelmed.
I want to go
Watch the “outside” show.

So, I stray,
I go away.
But – that’s no good
I wish I understood
Why no place is home.
Do I have to roam?
To find out
The truth?

I need help!

Fellow bloggers, help me out. As you know, This blogging bit is new to me, and I'm having some difficulties. Here's the problem. For instance, my post this morning was the song, Feelin' Groovy. I had it on Word, perfectly laid out, line by line, with spaces for paragraph, etc. The Header was colorful...(it was groovy - really) but when I posted, it all came out in run together sentences. What am I doing wrong? Also, if I want to go to the next line, pressing enter does nothing! I have to use the space bar until the end of the line and even then......I am so frustrated! PLEASE, PLEASE, SOMEBODY OUT THERE-HELP ME, because otherwise I will be sitting up nights trying and trying and trying............and I do want to get some good stuff out for you, and being such a perfectionist, I refuse to post anything inferior (like this morning's)

Start your Tuesday with this song
(one of my favorite feel good songs) and you'll be sure to hum it all day -and smile .
Simon And Garfunkel Lyrics
Feelin’ Groovy
Slow down,
you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.
Looking for fun and feeelin groovy.

Hello lamppost,
What cha knowing?
I've come to watch your flowers growing.
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in' doo-doo,
Feelin' groovy.

Got no deeds to do,
No promises to keep.
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy.

Point to ponder

If you could choose how your children would turn out, would you rather they be meaningful and fulfilled, but you would never see them again? Or that they woud lack direction and never feel fulfilled, yet you could see them whenever you wanted?

"Margaritaville" - from Margaritagirrl.....

Margaritaville............................

Nibblin' on sponge cake
Watchin' the sun bake
All of those tourists covered with oil
Strummin' my six-string
On my front porch swing
Smell those steaks - they're beginnin' to broil
Chorus:
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searching for my lost shaker of salt
Some people claim that there's a man to blame
But I know it's nobody's fault

I don't know the reason
I stayed here all season
Nothin' to show but this new pair of shoes
How it got here I haven't any clues
Chorus:
Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt
Some people claim that there's a man to blame
Now I think
Hell, it could be my fault

I blew out my flip-flop
Stepped on a pop-top
Cut my heel had to cruise on back home
But there's booze in the blender
And soon it will render
That frozen concoction that helps me hang on

Wastin' away again in Margaritaville
Searching for my lost shaker of salt
Some people claim that there's a man to blame
But I know.... it's my own damn fault
Yes and some people claim that there's a man to blame
And I know it's my own damn fault......
......and does anyone out there know who recorded this song?

Compassion

I decided to end the day by posting some "Food for Thought." Rooting for the Joneses. Compassion takes practice, but if you can successfully transform jealousy into love, everybody wins.(By Marc Ian Barasch)
The great Jewish mystic, the Rabbi of Berditchev, was known throughout 19th century Europe as the Master of the Good Eye. It was said that he could see nothing of people's sins, only their virtues. He'd roust the local drunk from his stupor on high holy day, seat him at the head of the table, and respectfully ask for his wisdom. He'd noodge a man who'd publicly flouted the Sabbath by praising him as the only one in the village who wasn't a hypocrite. He extended his caring to all, whether powerful or impoverished, scholarly or simple, righteous or reprobate.
The Rabbi's inspiration was a Talmud passage that calls for eveyone to be weighted "on the scales of merit" (zechut, from the Hebrew zach or purity). The meaning of zechut, explains one scholar, is to "intentionally focus on what is most pure in each person--to see their highest and holiest potential." It is a reminder that compassion is not just a gift, but a path. The Good Eye is a shift of perception, a transformative art that takes some practice.
The 16th century Tibetan meditation master Wangchuk Dorje recommended a practice he called "the Activity of Being in Crowds." Walking through a throng, he said, is "a good opportunity to check your progress and examine the delusions, attachments, and aversions that arise." I find the bustle of a mall an especially good place to check my Good Eye for jaundice. It's not just the plenitude of people, but of everything under that fluorescent sun that pushes our buttons. With everything winking merrily, beckoning with come-ons for instant gratification, and mirrors, mirrors everywhere (it is all about me, after all!), I go into a sort of mall trance. The mind itself gets into the spirit of things, hawking its tawdrier wares; my finicky responses to the goods on display merge with my reactions to the people I pass--little covetous twinges, subtle flickers of attitude, petty judgments on how people walk, talk, dress, and chew gum. And here a surge of superiority, there a deflating thought of inadequacy; here a lurch of desire for a sleek, well turned-out woman, there a picador's lance of envy at her undeserving boyfriend in the slobby polo shirt.
I return from these shopping expeditions with a discount grab-bag of those feelings the spiritual traditions agree most occlude compassion. I'm collecting a set of action figures based on Augustine's deadly sins (and can just define sins as "biggest obstacles to selfless love"?). Yesterday I snagged Mammon, avarice (a Buddhist would call him tanha, craving), and today my favorite, Leviathan, jealousy, complete with light-up green eyes.
The Koran describes jealousy as a "veil" that beclouds the eye of the heart. Jealousy turns other people into sources of resentment: If I had what you have, Leviathan croaks mechanically when I push the little oval button in his back, then I would be happy. Jealousy tints everyone in bilious shades of envy. It presents a perfect paradigm of insufficiency: I am less because you are more. It's a zero-sum game. Jealousy's only hope is that the other person will be diminished, imagining that would free up proportionately more for itself. (It extends all the way to that uniquely German coinage, schadenfreude, gloating over another's misfortune, the Good Eye turned into the Evil Eye itself.
But just as there are emotional toxins, there are also antidotes, remedies, what the apothecaries of yore called specifics. In Buddhism, the supreme medicine for envy is said to be mudita, or "sympathetic joy," which calls on us to feel happy about another's success. Easy enough when it comes to rejoicing for those we really care about: Every parent kvells over their kid's triumphs; a teacher exults when her favorite student aces teh math exam. But to expand this feeling from a narrow circle to a wider arena is like pulling wisdom teeth.


I once witnessed an exchange between a Tibetan lama and a questioner on this subject. "Rinpoche," inquired a pleasant middle-aged man in a checkered sport shirt, "I adore my son. He's a linebacker for his high school football team. I find myself rooting for him to just cream the opposing quarterback. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Of course not," the lama replied. "You love your son, and you want his happiness, and he's happy when he beats the other team. This is only natural."
There was an audible sigh of relief in the room. The spiritual path may be challenging, but it's not unreasonable.
The man smiled. "Thank you, Rinpoche," he said, making a brisk little folding gesture with his hands.
The lama laughed sharply. "I was only joking! Actually, this is not at all the right attitude. "In fact," he said, glancing at the man mischievously, "a good practice for you would be to root for the other team. See them winning, see them happy, see their parents overjoyed. That is more the bodhisattva way." The man thanked him again, this time with an ironic groan at a homework assignment that stretched past football season.
I have a wildly successful acquaintance next to whose perfectly pillowed existence mine seems a lumpy mattress. I've seen him on magazine covers, a self-satisfied, cock-of-the-walk, air-brushed grin on his face. Even worse, he's in my field, though he does ever so much better (sell-out!. I've been training myself, as an antidote to a fulminating case of green-eye, that whenever I feel that little twitch of envy, I wish for more bluebirds of happiness to come sit on his eaves. "Don't you mean," asks a cynical friend, "come shit on his sleeves? But the fact is, my good wishes provide an unexpected sense of relief. It's an unknotting, expansive feeling, as if what's his and what's mine suddenly, metaphysically, belong to both of us and to neither. I recently came across a line from Yoko One: "Transform jealousy to admiration/ And what you admire/ Will become part of your life. Maybe she did break up the Beatles, but I think she's onto something.
Don't believe me? Try it for yourself. Root for the other team. Visualize someone who makes you envious--someone who squats smug as a toad in what is surely your rightful place in the world. Think of them in all their irritating splendor, enjoying the perks and accolades you no doubt deserve. Then... wish sincerely that they get even more goodies.
Isn't this the mortal sin of "low self-esteem"? Well, not exactly; it's more like a metaphysical jujitsu. In rooting for someone else's happiness, we tune to a different wavelength. We feel more beneficent, less deprived, more capable of giving. The focus on another person's satisfaction becomes a lodestone that paradoxically draws us closer to our own. (Isn't most envy just our own potential disowned? We are jealous of what we ourselves might become.) Seeing the world through another's eyes (you in me, me in you) makes it feel there's at least twice as much to go around; not more money or fame or square footage, but what underlies the whole pursuit: more love.

Just Another Manic Monday

Six o’clock already
I was just in the middle of a dream ......
I was kissin’ valentino
By a crystal blue italian stream .
But I can’t be late
’cause then I guess I just won’t get paid ,
These are the days
When you wish your bed was already made.

It’s just another manic monday
I wish it was sunday
’cause that’s my fun-day
My I don’t have to run-day

It’s just another manic monday
Have to catch an early train
Got to be at work by nine .
And if I had an air-o-plane,
I still couldn’t make it on time.
’cause it takes me so long ,
Just to figure out what I’m gonna wear.
Blame it on the train
But the boss is already there.

All of the nights ,
Why did my guy have to pick last night
To get so down ?
Doesn’t it matter
That I have to feed the both of us ;
Employment’s down.

ANYONE REMEMBER WHO SANG THIS OLDIE? IT FITS IN VERY WELL WITH THE MOOD I'M IN THIS MORNING.
gotta run - remember - the boss might be there already..............I'll try to post something tonight. I stayed up late again and got into Ayelet Waldman's blog. She's a writer of Mystery novels, which I've read, and who would guess from her amusing, entertaining books, that she was so...........won't give it away. log onto her site!

This is how insecure I am (sometimes) and how low my self esteem plummets (sometimes) After posting for the first time, I decided to browse through some other blog sites (ya know, just for fun - I said to myself) --- Of course, I simply had to stay up until 4 am, so that I could discover that ALL the other bloggers had more interesting things to say than I did. Being masochistic, I had to keep going on and on, until I noticed through the skylight in my study, that daylight was about to break through. A revealation - - EVERYONE has a life - a story - a history. Hey, I'm not the only one that has gone through good and bad, high and low, hot and cold............all of you out there are Interesting, Complicated, Humorous, Sad, Funny.... I read so many good postings..........layers upon layers of lives, opened wide for everyone to read and share. I'M AMAZED - I'M IMPRESSED - I'M HUMBLED. and now here is another poem that I wrote, which will be clue #2 into my life - a poem for my therapist. YUP - I gave it to him, and he loved it. (well, I pay him enough, he's gotta love it.


THERAPY

Every Monday at twelve fifteen
I time my arrival, and on your doorbell I lean.

Ding dong, and down each stair,
Into your quarters, my woes to share.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned”
My indiscretions tumble out, they are lost to the wind.

Hello…Can you hear me? Can you save me?
Do you know me? Can you free me?

I tell my life in my teasing way,
Always on stage, and you…so blasé.

Nothing can shock you, I know cause I’ve tried
Just to get a reaction, but you take it in stride.

Where is it going, what is my end
Can I be elevated or will I descend.

I don’t think I’ll sink lower, my moods are too dark
I do have my moments, the limelight, the spark!
Quick as they come, sadly they fade
The sun shines one moment, then back to the shade.

I see my colors turning gray, the brightness has flown
Lonely did I come here, and I depart alone.
I don’t know where, or to whom I go,
But cloudy thoughts will follow, this I surely know.

Each week I look for answers, for tidbits given sparingly,
And all, that I might laugh again, do you think that this might be?



Until next time, folks...............

My very first time...(doing a blog, that is).......

I'll start my site with a poem that I composed.

This will give you a pretty good idea of who I am and what I'm all about.

One morning in August, a steamy hot day,
I came into this world in the usual way.
I was pretty & sweet, each nurse praised my looks,
From my head to my toes, and my cute little nose.

I yawned and I stretched in my new mother’s arms,
I looked all around me – what had I found?

My father came in and gave just one look,
He frowned and he said, “She will come to no good!
A girl who is pretty and born on a Tuesday!
We’ll see trouble from her…..and he just stalked away!

Every day of my life, I felt his wrath and heard him say
“You’ll roast in hell for your sinning way”
They’ll hang you by the tongue and flay your flesh
Because you’re a girl with passions, and you won’t give it rest.

Such a happy childhood,, don’t you think so?
I still hear his voice, not spoken now – just the echo…..

Now, I’m his little lamb - I work for charitable causes,
He praises my good deeds - brags to friends - without pauses.

Don’t you think that this left a mark on me?
I hated him for so long, you see,
I rebelled when I was young and wild
I did just what he had been afraid of, his errant child.

I love my religion, with all I’ve been through,
But I also want love and freedom - fulfillment too!

It’s been a long time since I’ve had cause to rebel
But what the hell,
I want to be in love, and be loved in return,
I need to feel my body burn.

But it’s wrong to transgress, isn’t it?
And yet it happened, bit by bit,
Now I’m split
Is it all bullshit?
Or am I really a misfit.

I discovered passion again,
And then….
I had to stop,
Cause the”MAN” upstairs knows what’s up

I miss the passion
I miss the loving.
The kisses
The wishes

But - back I go
to my organized and routine life,

Why can’t I have
What I truly crave,

Oh, G-D - I do try to behave,
Can’t you waive,
Your anger – help me – save…….
My soul. . Realize that I need love.

Oh, G-D, have mercy
Forgive me
And give me.

I want love and fire
To live life on the high wire.

But I’m so tired, so tired
And in this mud of my life so mired…..

Can’t you cut me some slack
And bring love back?
Ah……… but I have to go on
Go back to my religion.
This is what I chose!?

COULD IT BE…. THAT MY FATHER IS RIGHT?