A change for the better
When your nest is empty, you no longer have reminders of what time of year it is. No new school calendar, no need for camp registration or plans for winter vacation; aside from the change in the weather, you need to really be on top of the day and date. Unless that is just me.
Also, because I was in Israel, when I got home, I knew it was mid-August, but I still thought that time stood still and there were weeks before the summer was over. And then I turned around and it was Rosh Hashanah. Which means we already passed Labor Day and I should stop wearing white.
I am just kidding. I never wear white. But back to Rosh Hashanah.
Another new year, thank God, and, as you get older, you get more anxiety about all of the things that can go wrong. Things that happen to other people, older people, are now happening to you and your people. Life is both funny and very unfunny that way.
Two years ago, when I was in Far Faraway for the Jewish new year, I sat next to a dear friend, and though we did pray, we also talked a lot. A few months later, she was diagnosed with cancer, and when it was time to talk about sitting next to each other the next Jewish new year, I said, “I don’t think it is a good idea — look what happened to you after sitting next to me.”
No, I don’t think I have that power, but I really did feel a little guilty that maybe all of our chatting upset the big guy upstairs. And why did it happen to her and not to me? But my friend is strong and she is positive, and she even started a whole bracelet initiative to raise money for an organization that helps cancer patients.
The strength of some people is just inspiring and incredible. And my friend is one of those people. I have her Hebrew name and her mom’s Hebrew name on my whiteboard, and she is always in my prayers. And I am hoping that not sitting next to her the past two years will have the opposite effect of what happened after that first year. I can pray for that, right?
Truth is, we can pray for anything. We can ask for forgiveness from anyone and only we know if we mean it, if we believe it. This year, my resolution is to let go of the disappointment I feel in those who didn’t pay a shiva call to me or Husband #1 (he doesn’t care, but who am I if not one to hold a grudge). Yes, it has been over four years, and it still hurts my heart.
I know that none of this is funny, but it is a serious time of year. None of us get to know what tomorrow will bring, or next month, or the month after that. I know what I need to change — but since according to some there is soo much I need to change, I am just going to work on this one thing.
I have let it take up too much space and I know that my dad would say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” So, even though it isn’t small, even though there were people who would call my dad at all hours of the night or day to ask questions, or to knock on his hotel door at 5 a.m. (true story) maybe there was a good reason why they didn’t come to show respect to my dad, after all he did to help them.
Who am I to judge? So that is what I am going to work on this year. So if I haven’t smiled at you in the last four years, and I see you in shul on Yom Kippur, now you know why. Unless you don’t read my column and then you might think I am having some sort of episode and that is okay, too.
Last Yom Kippur, I think I shared that I couldn’t go to Yizkor because little Matzo Ball, my dad’s namesake, was sleeping on me and my dad told me it was okay if I didn’t go to shul. Okay, he didn’t actually say anything, but that is the conversation I had with him while beautiful little Reuven Meir was taking a good nap — something my dad loved to do.
Sorry, this is what happens when I sit down and don’t know what I am going to write about.
May any changes we decide to make to help us be better people bring good health to those who need it and may we all have a gmar tov.
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is very proud of her little brother who blew the shofar at the Jewish Center in the city.