FROM CHINA- WITH FAILURE

My son is getting married in about 10 weeks, and it’s in the US and therefore, as an out-of-towner, I don’t have to do much. So I will preface this kvetch with a thanksgiving blessing, that it’s all been a piece of cake compared to marrying off a daughter. So I’m not really really complaining.

But of all the few things I have to do, one of them is getting a dress for myself. Now, I hate fashion and clothes and shopping and everything involving me trying on stuff and looking at myself in a mirror. I like the idea of glamming up but the shoes kill me, for starters. I have some outfits which I put together, and then I wear them and wear them until they are unwearable and then I grit my teeth and shlep out and Go Shopping.

Clearly, though, a family wedding is in a different league. And one’s own son’s wedding especially so. The last 2 weddings of daughters, I managed to wear the same dress, a dress which had been made for me by a Couturier, excuse me, not just a little dressmaker, and it cost a fortune, and at least I spread the cost over 2 weddings. Unfortunately, no such luck this time. Different time of year, different country, different climate, too hot. What to do. Idea!! Go on-line!

First, I googled ‘Modest Evening Gowns’ just to see. It turns out that the Mormons have kind of cornered the market here, folks. Especially bridal wear. Very tzniusdik! You should check out their ‘Temple Dresses’, very elegant, even the most Haredi bride could wear them. Just a thought.

But nothing for me. Actually, even the ‘modest’ evening dresses, while being modest by general standards, were not OK; sleeveless etc etc whatever.

So I kept looking. And I found a site, written in Chinglish *, which had scores of ‘Mother Of Bride’ styles. And I actually found 2 styles which looked good and were suitable; little jackets which I figured I could have lined if they were too transparent, over a sleeveless dress, nice and drapey, and –get this- $80. Yes, you read correctly, $80-$100 for a cocktail or evening dress. Sizings were US, and I know my size, so I ordered a little bit bigger- easier to take in than let out, right? And I ordered 3 dresses and it was under $300 including shipping.

So what went wrong? I hear you ask. Did they not arrive from the Fukien Province of China? No, they came, in about 2 weeks. Were they crappy quality? Well, it’s not going to be silk at that price, is it? But they were indeed quite well made. Were the colours or fabrics wrong? No, it was as I expected. And some nice beaded edging too. Maybe a bit fragile in the beading, as my dad would have said, ‘sewn with a hot needle’. But it turns out that I don’t know my size in US after all, and I got it wrong and they are all TOO SMALL. But really, not just ‘give up desserts for a month and they’ll fit’ too small; a size wrong. AND the dresses weigh a ton! They looked all floaty chiffon etc but they are structured like battleships underneath. ‘Built-in bra’ is what they called it, but that’s a euphemism. So major fail. And I’m not going to fotz around with dressmakers making 2 dresses into one, it would be far easier to start from scratch. And if I’m going to start from scratch then I wouldn’t be doing it in polyester.

So, beaten, I phoned the Couturier and I’m having a horribly expensive dress made. I’ve got 2 more weddings to go before I marry off all my kids so I’m hoping to amortize the investment. It had better look good. Sheesh.

PS I have 1 cocktail length dress in royal blue and 2 floor length gowns, one blue, one black, US size 16W (BULLSHIT) for sale to interested parties. Photos available on request!

*’In your wedding day , no matter bride or groom , you must appreciate a person , it is your mother . On that important day , one of the most exciting persons is your mother , who wish you be happy forever and ever and are waiting for your lover to give your wanted happiness . Therefore , when you appear in the view of the guests with perfect appearance , you never forget to dress up your great mother , to prepare a nice and fashion mother of the bride dress for your dear mother ! In modern times , new couples tend to place more attention on the mother of the bride gowns , and there are diverse styles of mother of the bride dresses in current market , to choose suitable one for your mother at once !’

Don’t you love Chinglish? How could I resist?

THE TRICKLE-DOWN

Lipa Schmeltzer is a Hasidic singer-songwriter who has been called ‘the Jewish Elvis’.

[I just got the giggles then, I don’t know what’s funnier, his name or the Elvis reference. It’s a bit rude to laugh at people’s names but when I hear ‘Lipa Schmeltzer’ my brain thinks it heard ‘Lipid Schmaltz’, which is pretty funny, because schmaltz is a kind of fat, or lipid. Well, I think that’s funny. Moving right along.]

So I saw this recent video, ‘Hang Up the Phone’

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lvwpNkJd82w

which is quite catchy, and I confess I enjoyed the song and the slightly bizarre video. The basic message is pretty clear- we are too reliant on electronic gadgetry, and the irony is that the more we rely on our phones, the less we communicate face-to-face. The rest is rather heavy-handed analogies. The charm factor is raised by the Yiddish lyrics. How can you not love ‘Instead of searching Google, I’m busy making kugel’? Or ‘Mein futer hot nisht kein computer’? And 'Oy vey, gevalt, leig avek shoyn der phone!'?

Lipa and his friends are robots.  They come to life in the electronics store after dark. They dance and fool around with the other appliances. There is a robot DJ spinning discs. A little boy outside the shop sees what’s going on inside but can’t attract his Dad’s attention because- you guessed it- Dad is on his mobile. Lipa opens the door to the shop and some real, live Hassidim come dancing in, literally dancing rings around the robot Lipa. But then the rather hunky Hassidic ‘robots’, shedding their ‘futuristic’ robot armour, start breakdancing. I must say, good to watch. Sort of Hassidic eye candy. Can I say that? But not making sense, if a music video is supposed to make sense, that is. Is it a dance fight?

Then a little boy robot- who was flesh and blood earlier- starts to juggle with fire. Whoah! Heavy symbolism! Our children are playing with fire and are turning into robots! Then there’s an inexplicable cut to a spinning disco ball in which we see the mesmerized face of a child; it’s a quick cut and almost subliminal.

SO. This song is an indictment of the effects of rampant electronic consumerism on us all. Blackberries never used to grow in New York City, he sings, in Yiddish! Once upon a time, ‘i’ meant an ‘ay’, an egg, as in ‘ayer mit tzibbel’! And now we are robots, in thrall to our Blackberries and iPhones and iPads. And in the end it was all a terrible dream that Lipa tries to relate to his friend Donny, who isn’t listening because he is- correct- texting on his mobile.

OK! I actually think he has a point. But I can’t help thinking that he is walking a very narrow bridge as a Haredi performer  (‘Jewish Elvis’!?). And this is the fate of such a performer; you may have great appeal to the Haredim, but take one wrong step and you are plunged into Cheirem. He nearly fell into the abyss in 2008 when he was forced to cancel a concert in Madison Square Gardens after a full-page ad was taken out in the local Haredi rag, HaModia, prohibiting attendance of the concert AND forbidding hiring him or any of the singers involved ‘for any party, celebration or charity event’. This was signed by a number of rabbis. So Lipa cancelled because:

 “I have a career, I have a wife and kids to support, I have a mortgage to pay, I have to get out of the fire”.

As a result, the charity for which the concert was being performed lost a large sum of money. And then later on, it seems that at least one signatory rabbi recanted. Apparently, the Rabbis were given false information about Lipa, which they chose to believe. The power of Loshon Hora and bearing false witness.

Since then, he has released albums, performed at large concerts and generally, put everything back on track. All is forgiven, whatever the problem was in the first place.

I don’t envy Lipa, having to watch his back like that. And I think he should be careful with this video! I laugh at the irony of using technology to criticize the use of technology. I laugh at the trickle-down effect of American culture; how come breakdancing is kosher? Because it had its heyday in the 80’s? Why is techno-style music, with a DJ, noch, kosher? Because it’s also dated?  Why is auto-tune OK? I think it’s a bit dishonest, myself. I wonder what we are doing today that is not acceptable to Haredim, that will be acceptable in 20 years? Who knows.

And the last irony is that the Orthodox Jews are probably the only people who DO actually ‘hang up the phone’ for 25 hours, over Shabbos. And it’s a good thing.

THE VOICE, INDEED

I didn’t follow ‘The Voice’. I heard a lot about it from my water aerobics buddies. I managed to watch a bit of one early on where there was a fat chick, who turned out to be Jimmy Barnes’ daughter Mahalia (what a name! The expectations!) and a pretty blonde skinny chick. By then there were no more blind auditions, so it was pretty clear to me in about 3 seconds that, unless Mahalia was really an incarnation of THE Mahalia, she wasn’t going to have a chance. And so I was right. So I didn’t really bother with the show after that. Ho-hum, another pretty young skinny girl will win another pop show. Whatever.

Monday morning I was at the gym and there was a promo for The Voice playing on the TV which is just on there for a bit of relief from the boredom of the elliptical trainer etc, and it was the morning of the Finals. And there were 4 finalists. First, the Katy Perry with the red hair. Hey, not bad, I thought. Then the blind blonde chick. OK, so-so, I liked the other one. Then the token older male. Hmm, good, for Vegas maybe. And last, there was this brunette girl, with a pretty, round, dimpled face and a bit of the chubbies and THEN she opened her mouth and I nearly fell off the treadmill. Oh. My. G-d. Why did anyone else even bother? This girl was going to win.

Well, she did. Of course there is the back story of the girl who lived in refuges and foster homes, 19 years old. So she had a legitimate right to sing the blues.

She sounded like – who? Like Renee Geyer- Etta James- Adele- Janis Joplin- Tina Turner- Joss Stone, no, better, like Amy Winehouse, even better than that- I don’t know who else. A female Joe Cocker. And I look at this list and most of these people are white people who sound like black people who invented the art form of Soul. Actually, I even thought of Fado singers from Portugal. I thought of every man who ever done me wrong, I thought of how the human spirit can rise above adversity, I got goosebumps, I wanted to cry. I cannot think of the last time a singer made me feel like this. In a different- very VERY different way- Cio-Cio San from Madama Butterfly.  But that’s not the same as this raw, wailing, sweet, gravelly SOUND that came out of this child’s throat. It was from a different planet.

Karise Eden, congratulations on your win. I hope you cope with the life which now awaits you. I hope you don’t end up in the shit like Amy and Janis and Whitney. I look forward to owning many of your recordings in the future. You deserve success. Just keep it real. Please, please, keep it real.

This was her blind audition. How clear is it that she is remarkable????

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-QdjnA2vtI&feature=related

YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE JEWISH!

That was a great comedy record, absolute classic. And you don’t have to be Jewish to appreciate it. And there was a book by Dan Greenburg about how to be a Jewish Mother, how you don’t have to be either Jewish or a mother to be one. Hahaha! (I laughed at the book but I think Dan hated his mother and himself. And being a Jew.)

And now it looks like you don’t have to be a Jew to be Jewish, according to the latest Jewish Community Study of New York. 
http://www.ujafedny.org/jewish-community-study-of-new-york-2011/

It is a fascinating document, worth a read. As is this comment:

http://www.tabletmag.com/scroll/102369/the-rise-of-the-partially-jewish?print=1

The Jewish population of NYC is up, now 1,086,00. This has been fueled by the high birthrate of the Orthodox, increased longevity, and the ‘Partially Jewish’.

•            Rising numbers of people report unconventional identity configurations. They may consider themselves “partially Jewish,” or may identify as Jews even while identifying with Christianity or another non-Jewish religion (many more do so now than who so reported in 2002). Of such people with unconventional configurations, 70% have a non-Jewish parent (or two).

I am not a racist. I am not homophobic. I do not sit in judgment of how others live their lives. All I want is clarity. I do not disdain a person for not being Jewish. I have known many people in the course of my life and some are Jewish- all right, most are Jewish- and some are not. And some are great people and some are jerks, and some – most- are straight and some are gay, and some I like and some I don’t, and whether they are likeable or noble or good or not has not a lot to do with their religion or lack of it or whatever. I just want to say that, because there are many people who consider themselves to be open-minded and accepting of all and sundry and they- non-judgmental types of course- immediately assume that I am a racist homophobe Jewish Supremacist because I am Orthodox, oh, excuse me, Ultra-Orthodox (I wear a sheytel).  (BTW, I am pleased to note that the study did not use the term Ultra-Orthodox, which I find pejorative, and instead commented on the diversity within Orthodoxy- Haredi, Hasidic, Yeshivish, Modern etc.)

So when I say that -really- a Jew is one born of a Jewish mother or converted according to Halacha, I am not being provocative or non-pluralistic. I am saying that, for the future of the Jewish people, the definition must be clarified. There is no such thing as ‘partially Jewish’. It is a dichotomy; you are or you aren’t.

I’m sorry, Reform and Reconstructionist and those who decided in 1984, was it? that patrilineage is an acceptable decider for Jewish identity, but until then, it was always, you got it, born of a Jewish mother or converted according to Halacha. It’s an exclusive club, that a lot of people seem to want to join for some crazy reason.

12% of households are biracial, that is 87,000 households representing 254,000 people, 161,000 of whom identify as Jewish. Ok, cool! I don’t care what colour you are or what your background is, if you call yourself Jewish you should have – what? That’s right, a Jewish mother or one converted according to Halachah. Or be a convert yourself.

There are 50,000 Jewish people in LGBT households. So, I don’t care if you are gay or have 2 mommies, as long as the biological one is Jewish, then you can call yourself a Jew. You may be a mixed-up Jew, an alienated Jew, an angry Jew, but you are a Jew.

The study goes on to comment on the importance of affiliation to a congregation in predicting Jewish engagement.

Not surprising to see that the Orthodox are most engaged, and there are 493,000 Jews living in Orthodox households- numbers are up. But there are also more ‘non-denominational Jews and Jews with no religion’ who are ‘least engaged’. But even in this group, those affiliated with a congregation have higher levels of Jewish engagement- cultural events, visits to Jewish museums, attending Seder, lighting Chanukah candles- than non-affiliated.

And the doozy is that half- HALF- of the non-Orthodox married out, between 2006-2011.  No surprise here either, that this group is less likely to feel that being Jewish is important or that it is important to be part of the Jewish community, or feel attached to Israel. So much for pluralism. BUT note, around half of these intermarried people light Chanukah candles/ attend a Seder and a third attend Jewish cultural events. The desire to belong is not always extinguished so readily, even in those whose actions will probably lead to the extinction of their line of Jews. So there’s bad news and there’s good news.

So this is a huge study and a monster topic, and there are many conclusions. Jews are diverse. They always have been. Jews are not all white, not all rich, not all observant or practicing or even believers. There are atheists who are Jews and Buddhists who are Jews and Muslims who are Jews and Christians who are, strictly speaking, Jews. Because they had- what? A Jewish mother. And it might not be fair to someone who had a Jewish father and has a Jewish surname and feels Jewish but isn’t, because the mother wasn’t Jewish. It isn’t fair. It sucks. We need to do a lot to enable conversions for those who are serious about their desire to become Jewish, especially in these situations.  But we can’t pretend that there is a thing called ‘partially Jewish’. You can be of Jewish ancestry, and not be Jewish, sure. But you can’t be a half a Jew. You are a Jew, or you aren’t a Jew. We must be clear about this and stop confusing the issue, because in the end, it is the group who is clearly identified and ‘strongly engaged’ who represents the future of the Jewish people. And I, for one, care about the Jewish people and the future. Jews are G-d’s chosen people, chosen to create a dwelling-place for G-d on Earth. That’s what it’s all about. Nowhere has it ever been said that everyone has to be Jewish or that you have to be a Jew to be a good person. Non-Jews are also expected to follow the 7 Noahide Laws , which basically account for decent societies. But Jews are Jews and there are great responsibilities (I sound like Spiderman) and it isn’t an easy path. And the chosenness is why people hate us and why people love us. OK, I’m making it very simple here and I’m sure there are others who could write theses about why I am wrong, but that’s what I believe.

Back to the classic 1965 recording:

‘Mr O’Hara, it’s your mother, Mrs Horowitz’ starts the sketch ‘The Housewarming’ (second sketch on the clip.)

Momma didn’t attend the housewarming of her son and daughter-in-law Sophia’s (ripple of laughter at this non-Jewish name) new duplex in Park Avenue; she was in the lobby but she didn’t come up because she forgot her son’s name. It’s funny, it’s hilarious, and it contains the bitter kernel of truth.

You don’t have to be Jewish? Oy.

IT TAKES A VILLAGE…

We women of a certain age are like gracious old houses. Beautiful, elegant, full of light, airy (or in my case, windy)…but OMG, the maintenance needed.

I have calculated that the stuff I do simply to maintain the illusion of looking like a civilized human being costs more annually than my parents’ total income, back in the day when they were alive and working.  And we lived very simply, true, but they raised, fed and put 3 kids through school on that income. And paid off a mortgage. And ran a car.

Health stuff: (actually, not so bad in this wonderful country where the health insurance system isn’t as byzantine as, say, the US)

Visits to cardiologist, gynecologist, bariatric centre, semi-annual blood tests, various forms of medical imaging and medications (Meds are really expensive! And I’m essentially well!).

Supplements too! Sheesh. And after I have bought the ‘pleasant-tasting’ fish oil, or the Vitamin D3 or the chewable multivitamin or the chia seeds, or the vile herbal mixture or the Neways Feroxin or whatever the fad is, it sits in the fridge staring balefully at me whenever I open the door, making me feel guilty about the waste of it all.

Dental stuff:

Annual visit to dentist.

Annual visit to periodontist.

Repairs to broken teeth- had a bad run there a couple of years back. Oh yes, the dental splint to stop the tooth-grinding. Mmm, what a pleasure that was. Not.

Eye stuff:

Annual exam of vision, pressure, and more and more fiddling with contact lens prescriptions because I don’t want to wear bifocals until I REALLY have to. I mean that. (So I'm sitting staring at the screen through one of 6 pairs of magnifier reading glasses which I keep scattered through the house.)

Hair/ Shaytel maintenance:

I finally stopped coloring my hair as I realized it was pointless. So my real hair is pretty cheap, but the shaytels- uh oh.

Nails:

Bi-weekly gel infills and polish. When did this start? Why?

Pedicure every 4 weeks. Now THAT’S a necessity.

Beauty therapy:

Aka ‘Management of superfluous hair’. What a rip-off! (ha ha, little waxing joke.)

Facials- OK, I wouldn’t have 2 a year, but the eyebrows have escaped all control. So special treatment for brows.

And I DON’T do cosmetic crap like Botox, and hope I never feel the need to.

Exercise stuff:

Personal trainer twice a week. Orthotics for the sneakers. Had to be custom made, at great expense, but I’ve had a lot of use out of them.

Water aerobics class twice a week. It’s my pool, but I pay for the sessions. Maybe if some of my PIKER FRIENDS would actually TURN UP every week, I might not have to pay, but that’s the way it is.

Zumba, Pilates or whatever which I do until either injured or sick of. Then physiotherapy for the injury. This happens on average, once a year.

Therapeutic massage, weekly, to recover from the exercise. Of course!

I give employment to about 20 people, and that’s when I’m well and everything is working properly! G-d forbid the multitudes who will need to tend to me if I get sick! It’ll take a city, not a village!

A MOTHER

I wear, on the ring finger of my right hand, a small solitaire diamond ring. The stone is modest, about half a carat, cut in an old-fashioned brilliant style, set in a fine filigree white gold or platinum band. The stone is small but it is of great clarity. I don’t know the official terms but it is clear as water and catches the light when I move my hand.

This was my mother’s engagement ring. I am pretty sure that I have worn it a lot more than she ever did, because she put on weight after she had her first child and the ring was too tight to wear any longer. She could have had it resized but she chose to put it away in a little velvet box, and that was the box that my father gave me after she passed away 27 years ago.

It’s the strangest thing, but the older I get and the longer my mother has been in Gan Eden, the more I think of her. We didn’t really have such a close huggy-kissy relationship, mainly because of my own innate standoffishness and secretiveness, but when we did relate, it was all honest.

So as her 27^th yohrzeit is approaching, 10^th Sivan, I will once more commemorate the life of my late mother, who passed away too soon, and who is not remembered by my children at all. They were only 4, 3 and 1 years old and the youngest three were born after she was gone. So really, they only know of her through my stories and some photos- very few photos as she was camera-shy- so the stories become more important somehow.

To recap, she was born in 1919 in Melbourne to parents who came from Tzefat, Palestine. (My grandparents were Palestinians. This was once a term reserved for the Jews of Palestine before 1947. Really.) She was raised in Perth, where her father and uncles ran a bakery. It seems to me that her father, my Zeida Moishe, whom I barely remember as he passed away when I was 2 (longevity was not a strong suit in my mother’s family), was a bit of a maverick; his brothers stayed and settled in Perth but he left for Melbourne, married, returned, and was heavily involved in Perth’s Yiddish Theatre. My mother was pretty feisty too, and left home to play in the Maccabean Games in Melbourne at the age of 17 (basketball! She was 5’ 1” tall!), and then refused to return as Melbourne had a more vibrant Jewish scene. Her parents eventually joined her. She worked as a secretary and supported herself, sharing a flat with some girls in St Kilda Rd. My mother had a lovely singing voice –dramatic soprano- and had won a scholarship to train at La Scala in Milan in 1938, but as Italy was fascist and the drums of war were beating, she stayed home. She enlisted when WW2 began and worked in the Navy Code Room, but was also involved in the Armed Forces Entertainment Troupe, and sang in variety shows for soldiers as well as in civilian entertainments; I have playbills and programs to prove all of this. So she had an interesting life. Not your usual normal Jewish girl’s sort of background. My Dad was a tailor from the Poilishe shtetl, and came to Australia early 1939, sponsored by his sister who had married an English guy and lived in Newcastle, NSW. His plan was to get together money and papers to bring out his wife and 2 little sons, but time ran out and he failed. His family was murdered by the Nazis.

Fast forward to 1946. My father had confirmed reports of the fate of his family, met my mother at a Jewish social evening where she had been chaperoned by her mother- at age 26!- and they married Dec 29^th 1946.

Well, after that, she didn’t really sing much more, as back in the day, that’s not what married ladies did. She had 3 children, I was the youngest, and she worked like a dog. My sweet-natured dad wasn’t much of a businessman, and long story short, they worked in the market, selling underwear, t-shirts etc. They made a living. Then, on the brink of retirement, she got sick and died of ovarian cancer, age 65. Her own mother had died of the same disease, age 55. (I know, I know, I’ve had genetic testing and I don’t carry the gene BH).

She was a witty woman, short, round, with a big temper and, of course, a voice that she could project from one end of the house to the other. She never needed to smack us to keep us in line, she just yelled, and that was more than enough. She was a bit embittered by her life’s trajectory, maybe a bit depressed, and she struggled with her weight forever, but my father adored her and she had close friends.

Like her engagement ring diamond, she was small but she sparkled. And she was, in a way, shut away in a box where few saw her brilliance.

So before this gets too maudlin, I just want to share 2 things she used to say to me (my kids have heard this before):

Every now and then, she would marvel at the naivete of her genius daughter, the medical student, and say ‘I don’t know about you, Shyrla: clever, clever, clever, clever, stupid.’ Boy, do I get that now. I see it in some of my own kids.

And from her showbiz years- ‘Always leave them wanting more.’ What great advice. I try to live by it.

A Mazel Tov- sibling assisted

Just a short note. Last week I did a lightning visit to NY because my son became a chosson and we met up the the kallah and her family, and it was all wonderful, thank G-d. And I am only mentioning this because the shidduch was done by my daughter in conjunction with the girl's sister. So a sibling-mediated shidduch. Yes, I gave shadchanim a chance but, I repeat, if it can be done by family and/or friends, looking out for each other, it is so much better. Not wishing to deprive matchmakers of their livelihood, but it's the truth.
So siblings! Look out for siblings. And friends! Help your friends. And singles! Let them help you. And mazel tov to all.