Keeping Busy

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It was an absolutely gorgeous day today, a little colder than normal, but crisp. Again, rain is expected tomorrow. I am at that in-between time at the end of the month before my work starts to flow in and I have to deal with deadlines. I climbed back into bed to watch Matt Lauer in Vientiane, Laos, after Saul left for work. I felt tired, depressed, and listless, but I could not get back to sleep. I wound up missing most of Vientiane distracted by yet another documentary about the tea in China that Saul had recorded on TIVO from the Sundance Channel. Not as dire as the ones I mentioned earlier last week, but still a little depressing because of the Chinese government's insistence on trying to sell us mass-produced chemically-fertilized factory tea instead of allowing us to directly subsidize farmers producing artisan-type organic teas as they have been produced in China for generations. Because of this, the art is dying out. Saul, Ari and I were in Beijing in January, so we now have even more interest in all things Chinese. We observed that, having just about destroyed all vestiges of the past during the Cultural Revolution, the Chinese government has discovered that tourists are actually coming because of the remaining vestiges. There has been a rush to preserve and restore, and in some cases totally reconstruct the past as they get ready to host the Olympics. Perhaps, as hoards of tourists descend upon China this summer, they will realize what an international treasure Tibet and the Dalai Lama would be for them if they just let the people observe their own culture and adopted a laissez-faire attitude.

I felt guilty laying in bed on such a beautiful day. Life is short as I have been reminded, and beautiful days are not a dime a dozen. I spent a few minutes staring out the windows at my beautiful pink and purple flowered trees, which also only appear that way for about two weeks each year if the weather holds out. Then I contemplated the garden. Now that I have a reasonable landscaper, I could wait until he is available and just give him instructions. It needs to be made presentable even if I don't plant anything. I thought about not planting anything. Every year, I spend a lot of money growing things and some years, I wind up involuntarily feeding it all to the local wildlife, or at least, the local insects. Why bother? I was in that kind of mood today. Then, I decided that letting that mood and the sober reality of the expense rule my actions would be very counterproductive to my well-being. I dressed for gardening, grabbed my gloves, and went out to pull a few weeds. By the time I had finished pulling those weeds my mood was gone and I grabbed a shovel and started moving the overgrown gravel from my garden walkways into a pile in front of my composter to be used under the new patio. I must be crazy, I thought. I am shoveling heavy shovelfuls of rocks at age 58 when I could pay someone else to do it. After 10 minutes, I was ready to give up. I took a little break and then got a second wind. It was a long second wind. I was able to keep shoveling for another hour and cleared a whole side! Then, I weeded. Then, I used the garden weasel and cleared the whole front section. I was able to keep going for 3 hours. I don't feel too bad this evening after a hot shower and some aspirin. Maybe I will be sorry tomorrow, or maybe I will plant the garden anyway, just as an expression of hope that this year will be better.

Shomer Guf and the Funeral

Laura did call late last night to give us the details about the funeral home, Goldstein's. She spoke with Saul and he relayed to me that I would be there with Barbara Shatz, a friend of Faith Rubin and mother of Michael Shatz, who took over Jessica's job at Beth Hillel/Beth El. I had not seen Barbara in a few years. When she came in and went up to the coffin, I thought she seemed much taller and thinner than I remembered. We were relieving a cousin of Jay's, Bonnie, who had been there for the previous two hours. It turned out, when I asked Barbara about Michael, that she is actually Barbara Shotz, mother of Todd Shotz, who co-produced the television series, "Jericho" with Barbara Steinberg's son. Saul and Ari were especially big fans of the Jericho series. We began watching it because of our AJ connection and then became hooked.

My instructions were to be there at 8:30 a.m., to park on the upper side lot, and to knock on the double doors there and that the people who were there before me would open the doors. I decided to drop Saul at Chestnut Hill College for his 8:00 a.m. class and then return to pick him up so that we could go to the funeral together at AJ at 1:00 p.m. I did as I was instructed, arriving at 8:15 a.m., but it appeared dark inside and no one heard my knocking. After about five minutes of pounding on heavy glass doors, a car drove past me and into the lower lot. I followed it down on foot and explained to the emerging funeral home employee that I was there to watch a body and that no one had appeared to let me in. He invited me to enter with him through the garage doors underneath. He punched a number code into an inside door and we entered the building. I was on the lower level. We stood just outside a room where the bodies are kept and one of the funeral directors was there closing the doors on a refrigeration unit into which he had just placed a draped body. On tables around the room were several other draped bodies, probably three or four. My first impression was that the bodies that lay under the draping seemed very small when viewed that way. I wondered for a brief moment if one of them was Sandy, She was very tiny. When I explained my mission and told the funeral director for whom I was there, he introduced me to another man who was also a shomer who showed me the way upstairs to a regular reception room, in which I have been present too many times before, and in which the kosher coffin reposed at the front. It was a style of coffin that I am all too familiar with as it is the one all of us intend to use at some time, hopefully long into the distant future.

As I had said before, the custom of shomer guf is one I was honored to have been asked to participate in and that I think should be restored to more common practice. It takes a village to observe our rituals properly, and I think that is the point. These rituals have fallen out of use because a lot of our families have become so fragmented by busy lifestyles. Most people do not realize that they have a right and even an obligation to guard and protect the body of a loved one until it is properly buried. The obligation cannot be undertaken by the bereaved, but is the responsibility of the community that surrounds and supports the bereaved. Today's funeral proved that Jay and Sandy certainly do have that kind of loving community. Those that know about it usually hire a shomer when everyone else is too busy. In Judaism, all of these death rituals were designed to ensure modest and respectful treatment of the body. That is why we have closed coffins and simple shrouds. Often, horrible things are done to the body in order to make it look good in clothes in an open coffin.

The two hours I spent sitting with Barbara at Sandy's coffin were spent sharing our memories and stories about Sandy and Jay and discussing our families. Barbara had brought with her books by Anita Diamant and Rabbi Harold Kushner. Anita Diamant's book explained the significance of the rituals and Rabbi Kushner's explained the manifestations of the bereavement process. Yesterday, when we visited Jay, he was waiting for reporters from Channel 6 to interview him to air a segment on preventing DUI. Barbara asked me if I had seen him on Channel 6 on the 11 o'clock news. Of all times, last night we had a problem with Comcast and our televisions and phones were not working. We tried to reach Comcast this morning before leaving, but we were on hold with a recording for 20 minutes and finally, had to give up. They finally fixed the problem this afternoon, but in a call to Ari in our travels today, we were able to have him download the link so we could watch the broadcast. Seeing the smashed car in which she died was a far more chilling experience than sitting with Sandy's body for two hours this morning.

By 12:30 p.m., the parking lot at AJ was full and people began parking on the grass as they do during the High Holy Days. The sanctuary was so filled with people that many were standing for the service along the walls. Jay spoke eloquently with great humor and love about his marriage to Sandy and their life together. Both of their sons spoke beautifully as well and obviously have their parents ability to reach out to an audience. Rabbi Rosenbloom spoke of Sandy's many accomplishments and likened her life to a work of art that she had created all around herself. Of course, as expressive as they were, words can never quite capture the essence of a person. You had to have known her. I was very glad to have had the pleasure.

More Sandy and Jay

It has been one of those terrible rainy days when you just don't feel well even when everything is going well. Obviously, it is not. On awakening, you sort of hope as the realization dawns of the loss of a great friend, that you just had a bad dream that will shake off and be forgotten as you regain consciousness. I can't even imagine what it is like for Jay, the children and her parents when the moment comes when you realize the awful reality.

I succeeded in getting some work done today, catching up with business, cleaning up and doing laundry left over from traveling back and forth from the kids. When Saul came home from teaching, we decided a condolence phone call, while it would have been emotionally easier, would just not do for someone who was there for us every day last year at the hospital. I called my friend Laura and she said it would be okay to come down and see Jay. Laura has been busy every minute arranging food and logistics and even working out a schedule for people to be Shomer Guf for Sandy's body. She asked us if we would be at the funeral home tomorrow about 8:15 a.m. Saul could not because he is in the midst of finals and had arranged for Larry to administer some tests so that he can attend the funeral at Adath Jeshurun. Little did we know that when he covered Larry's classes while he was sick before Pesach (he never did make it to the sedarim) that we would be asking him to return the favor so soon. When Laura heard that Saul could not be with me to stay with Sandy's body, she tried to let me off the hook, saying she would try to locate someone else. I told her that I wanted to be there, so now, sensitive lady that she is, she is trying to arrange someone else to keep me company. I am honored to have been asked either way. I have the perfect reading material to take with me. Larry bought me a Torah with a commentary from a woman's perspective for my birthday last month. I had been studying Tanach with Faith Rubin every Thursday for 20 years up until 2 years ago when I left Temple Sinai for Melrose B'nai Israel. Because the class was mostly women, and because it was Faith Rubin teaching, I think I have studied commentary from a woman's point of view. The book should have some interesting new tidbits to offer, though, I think.

Jay, who ordinarily is a very spry man, was moving around very slowly and deliberately so as to protect his injured ribs. His face was a little swollen on one side. Considering what he has been through in the last 36 hours, he appeared to be handling the situation as best he could surrounded by his children and those who love him. I remember when Aunt Sarah died, Uncle Jack said that the reality of the loss comes when the shiva is over, everyone goes home, and you go upstairs and get into bed alone. Shiva is a comforting ritual that temporarily distracts from the loss of normalcy until the initial shock has worn off. Saul and I printed a large version of the beautiful photo that was taken at the black and white party to give to Jay to help remember the good times. They had just taken a vacation in Paris for Jay's 60th birthday.

Larry Shipper sent this link with the details of the accident and a photo of Sandy that does not do justice to her bubbly demeanor. As we arrived to see Jay, everyone was preparing to meet with reporters who were coming to interview them to publicize the injustice perpetrated by drunk drivers. Unfortunately, I think that no matter what the publicity or consequences are against drunk drivers, there will always be people with no self-respect and no respect for others who will continue their evil habits. Who knows? One of us may be a future victim. We need to keep plugging away to get the message across, because if it had reached just that one irresponsible drunk woman, Sandy might still be with us today.

Sandy Schinfeld

This is difficult to write because I am still in shock. Perhaps when I have had a chance to absorb more of the shock, I will write again. Last night, my good friend Sandy was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver on Broad Street who plowed into her side of the car. She was returning from some event downtown with her wonderful and loving husband Jay. She had been on the bima at services at Adath Jeshurun earlier in the day for an Aliyah. I heard the news from our mutual friend, Laura Feller, who reached me by cell phone early this morning while Saul and I were on our way from Ari in Washington to Jess and Alex in Baltimore to attend yizkor services at Chizuk Amuno, the synagogue where Alex is the principal. Laura’s voice had been so altered by hours of crying that we did not recognize it.

Our hour-long drive to Baltimore was done with much care through tears and stunned silence interrupted by sporadic expressions of disbelief. The comforting words of the yizkor prayer book, so well-designed to deal with all the manifestations of grief, took on new meaning in this terrible situation. Not knowing what we could physically do to help our friends at that moment, we were comforted at least a little bit knowing that we could pray.

I think Jay and Sandy have been among the most fun-loving of all our friends. I first met Sandy in a three-hour weekly class while I was trying to learn Hebrew from our friend, Ruth Baram, at Gratz College. I remember that during that time, she was planning for Noah’s Bar Mitzvah. Shortly afterward, we began to work together when she was planning a big party and fund-raiser for Adath Jeshurun. I believe she called it Lox, Stock and Barrel. Because I had been publishing the AJ News, she recruited my services as a desktop publisher to design the logo and invitations for the event. I had never seen such bubbly enthusiasm as she figured out all the ways in which she could create the atmosphere of turn-of-the-century immigrant Jewish life in America. In lieu of monetary compensation, Saul and I accepted an invitation to attend and I know it was the most fun of any synagogue event we have ever attended, and there have been quite a few. When I first began my business 22 years ago, desktop publishing was in its infancy and my first office was a computer desk in our bedroom. Sandy was a perfectionist and we worked long hours into the night. She had no qualms about climbing into bed while we were working. Publishing software was not as friendly back then and it took forever to get the same effects that take seconds now. If she fell asleep, we would wake her when the work was completed. One night, we worked until 1:00 a.m.! How could you not become fast friends with a client who climbs into your bed and falls asleep? We worked on many events together over the years. I think that probably the last one for AJ has been the design of the case and the collaboration with Mordechai Rosenstein to produce the artwork for the Parashat HaShavuah display, an ongoing fund-raiser for the synagogue that was Sandy’s brainchild.

Six years ago, I almost died from a massive blood clot in my right leg. Actually, the blood clot did not come as close to killing me as the overthinning of my blood from Coumadin in response. At first, I was not allowed to eat a long list of leafy green veggies, including spinach and seaweed because they counteract the medication. When I began to bleed internally from the overdose, they not only gave me Vitamin K in shots, but I was encouraged to eat all the leafy greens I could swallow. I was confined to bed for a month and I was in a lot of pain. Sandy made a special trip to visit me with what I still remember as being one of the most delicious spinach soups I ever tasted. She just showed up with it when she learned of my situation. It was one of the most thoughtful favors ever done for me.

While I was bed-ridden, somewhere in my brain a plan formed to throw a black and white party if I survived and had the strength to prepare it. Everyone we knew came to that incredible party months later. I have these great pictures of Sandy and Jay in their black and white outfits. We had a blast! Laura and Marc Feller are in some of the photos also.

Many years ago, Saul and I were at the Philadelphia Craft Show at the Convention Center downtown. We bumped into Sandy there with her good friend Laura. Laura had become the public relations person for the School District of Springfield Township and needed someone to help prepare a newsletter. Over the years, we have become fast friends as well.

Jay is a gynecologist and obstetrician with offices at Abington Hospital. When Saul was hospitalized for the stroke last year, Jay came to look in on us every day before going into the office. Sandy visited as well and was her usual warm, welcome and empathetic presence. Jay has the most wonderful sense of humor. When Saul wondered aloud why they were x-raying his pelvis, Jay told him it was to check if his birth canal was wide enough. At one point, when we were home, Jay really had Saul going on the telephone, admonishing him for missing his Pap smear. I heard Saul saying over and over, “are you sure you don’t mean Marilyn?” until he figured out that Jay was pulling his leg again.

They have been here for Shabbat dinners a few times, although not as often as we would have liked because of their busy schedules. Sandy had been working overtime on her doctorate lately. The last time they were here, we agreed that we would get together soon for a meal at the Indian Restaurant they liked nearby.

Over the last few years and as lately as a month ago, we helped Jay and Sandy to prepare and refine a family Haggadah that would reflect their personal observance of Pesach incorporating family photos and stories. Obviously, none of us knew that this Pesach would be Sandy’s last.

Each year we thank God for sustaining us and allowing us to reach each joyous season. As we say goodbye to Pesach this year and I hear almost everyone express relief that their limited diet is over, I find myself wishing the holiday with its seders could last forever. I am nostalgic for the past occasions when our loved ones were all here and we shared beautiful evenings feasting and telling stories. I will try to hold on to every treasured memory. Our time on earth is so fleeting and we are such fragile creatures. We can never take for granted that we will all be together for yet another year.

Plastic

When I climbed into bed last night, I was happy to have a new issue of Saveur to read. I was a charter subscriber, so I have every issue going back to No. 1. Lately, I am letting my 35-year-old subscription to Gourmet expire. Curling up with glossy issues of food magazines so that I can travel to distant cultures in my head has been a favorite pastime all my life, but in the last few years, I feel that I am paying for the privilege of reading special advertising sections. Saveur seemed to be holding onto its integrity a little more than Gourmet, but I think after last night's reading, I will let it expire also. Most of my newer recipes come from perusing the Internet these days to fill specific needs.

While I was trying to sort out the magazine articles from the advertising, Saul was watching a documentary about a phenomenon that is killing oceans and seas all over the world. The gist of it was that we are so heavily fishing that we have removed most of the sardines and small fish that eat a type of plankton that when it dies naturally, sinks to the bottom in such large quantities that its rotting causes the proliferation of methane and other harmful gases at the bottom. After a certain amount accumulates, it explodes upward and causes the water to change from blue to yellow, creating a horrible stench, and causing such a huge amount of fish kill that you wouldn't believe that there were that many fish in the sea.

After he fell asleep, and I had finished with my magazine, another documentary followed which talked about the amount of plastic floating in the oceans. There is one vast area where the currents flow in a circular motion and trap all the debris in the center, like a toilet bowl that can never flush. Some of the plastic in that area has been there since the dawn of the age of plastic. When samples were gathered, it was discovered that there was actually more plastic than plankton in the water. All this was discovered because baby albatrosses were dying out and when opened up, it was discovered that their stomachs were full of plastics fed to them by their mothers. Then, the documentary talked about plastic baby bottles and how putting them through the dishwasher 10 times caused them to leach out many more times the amount of a harmful chemical as when they are new.

When I woke up in this morning, the Today show was talking about rice being rationed because climactic conditions around the world had caused the price to double and people to start hoarding it. Although it is an absolutely beautiful day outside, I can't help but feel that an axe is about to fall. Gas is expected to reach $4 a gallon by summer, a million more houses are being foreclosed in the next few months and people on television are finally starting to acknowledge that we are in a recession, not just heading toward one. My husband has no trouble sleeping after watching these documentaries, and my children have always thought I take all these things too much to heart. This morning, I feel sort of like I did after reading about the coming AIDS epidemic back in the early 1980s. My life goes on in a fairly normal way, but I worry about the future of our country and the world and what all these changes will mean for the quality of life of my grandchildren.

Carpenter Bees and Woodpeckers

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Last spring, in desperation over not being able to use our beautiful cedar deck and gazebo because of loudly buzzing, hovering carpenter bees, we hit on a novel and relatively successful way to get rid of them. For the last several years, we had been borrowing a kit from my brother, Kenny, designed to keep them from coming back each year. This involved spraying a poison with a special nozzle into each hole and then plugging it up with a specially-designed wooden plug. Every carpenter bee makes exactly the same size hole. We had been doing this for several years. Eventually, the plugs fall out and we noticed that the bees were multiplying despite our best efforts. Our deck was becoming swiss cheese.

Last year, we hit upon the idea of netting them in a butterfly net and then just stepping on them. When we went looking for a butterfly net, the closest thing we could find in a sporting goods store was a telescoping metal basket with a long handle for grabbing fish that had been line caught. The pole and loop were the right size, but the openings in the metal basket were way too large. We had just bought nylon mesh bags to hold our snorkel gear for Hawaii and they turned out to be just perfect. We removed the metal basket from the loop and attached the mesh bag. We were able to kill dozens of the bees in the space of one week.

The holes were especially annoying because we had just had the deck painted and little piles of sawdust were appearing under each hole. Did I mention that Saul and I designed and built the deck and gazebo by hand with help from various friends and relatives? We dug the holes for the footings and everything! Anyway, shortly after we had limited our bee invasion to an occasional visitor, Saul went out one morning last summer and found huge, gaping, ragged excavations where most of the holes had been. Also, there were little tiny holes around the excavated areas. Curious and upset about what was going on, we called in our exterminator, who was mystified and told us he had never seen anything like it. We eventually came to the conclusion that the gaping holes could only have been made by a bird because of their inaccessible location, and that the tiny holes were probably from its claws grasping the wood to get at the juicy bees inside. This was later confirmed by the exterminator who did some extensive research.

Now, it is spring. The landscapers did a beautiful job. We have not gotten around to repairing all those jagged holes with wood putty and paint. The bees are back. As of yesterday, we had netted a half dozen. It will probably be a daily activity for a while to get rid of them before they bore more holes and lay eggs for the woodpeckers to get at. Isn't nature wonderful!

Passover Passed

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I always feel a bit let down when the sedarim are over no matter how wonderful the experience. We always thank God for sustaining us and allowing us to live to see yet another joyous occasion, but once the sedarim have passed, I always wonder if we will all be together in good health for the next seder. This was a particular milestone for us because last year, Saul came right out of the hospital and directly down to Baltimore for the first seder. His recovery has been miraculous considering the extent of the stroke. He is almost as good as new. I just turned 58, the age at which our beloved Aunt Sarah died of breast cancer. She never missed coming to help us prepare the food for the seder. I remember the pain with which she was struggling as I washed the dining room floor in preparation and I remember thanking God that I was healthy and able to scrub it on hands and knees as tired as I was. The following year, we all spoke to her from the seder as she lay in her hospital bed in Georgia and Uncle Jack prepared to fly her home to us. As I put away the last vestiges of Passover and prepared a room for her, she died. I miss her terribly even all these years later and I wish she could have been here, like my mother, to enjoy my grandchildren with me.

Alex did a Herculean job (or perhaps a Samsonian job?) preparing both the amazing feast and the 70-page custom Haggadah. Jessica, as usual, ran hither and yon to make sure that everyone had what they needed to get the job done. There were many children present, from 3 weeks to 7 years old. It was boisterous, warm, erudite, nostalgic, sparkling, stimulating, funny, and delicious. I loved every minute of it! Here's hoping next year will be even better!!

Beth, I promised you the chestnut soup recipe, so even though Passover will not pass over until next week, here it is:

Chestnut Soup (serves 8 to 12)
14 oz. peeled, cooked, ready-to-use chestnuts
1 tbsp. toasted sesame oil
2 large leeks, split, washed thoroughly, and chopped, or 1 large Bermuda onion, chopped
1 cup dry white wine, vermouth, sherry, or anything else dry that you have left over
12 oz. mushrooms (any type or a mixture will do) cleaned and sliced
2 tbsp. Osem pareve chicken soup mix dissolved in 4 cups boiling water
1 tsp. freshly ground black or white pepper
3 cups low fat milk
1 cup heavy cream

Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the leek or onion pieces and sauté them stirring frequently until they are translucent—5 to 10 minutes. Add the mushrooms and pepper and sauté about 5 more minutes. Pour in the wine or sherry, increase the heat to medium high, and cook the mixture until the liquid is almost gone. Reserve a half cup of chestnuts and add the rest. Add the pareve chicken stock and simmer the mixture, covered until everything is very soft about 15 minutes. Pour in the milk and pulverize everything smooth with a stick blender. Add the cream. Chop the reserved chestnuts coarsely and add to the soup. Keep on low heat until warmed through. Serve warm.