Are you there God? It’s me, Banji
Yes, I am in Israel. I am so grateful to be here and to spend time with Danish and her sister and her incredible parents.
I am staying in a very religious neighborhood. Lots of children who, at any age, seem to be wandering the streets by themselves with their heads held high, holding ices, holding hands with their siblings, usually in matching outfits.
As I have mentioned before, I am the resident enigma. I cover my knees and my elbows but my hair remains uncovered, and I walk around with my Disney backpack. All good. But I have a secret. A dark secret. I have been watching Netflix in my down time. And that is where this week’s topic comes in.
I was finally able to watch the movie “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” When I saw it was first coming out, I reread my original copy of the book, written by the great Judy Blume. It was even more poignant reading it as an adult. Religion — the great equalizer and the great divider. But my first reaction was to text my friends from grade school, to see if we could all watch the movie together.
That, of course, did not happen, and then the movie disappeared from the big screen. I mailed my copy of the book to my sister, because, well, it was probably hers to begin with, but we didn’t get a chance to see it together either.
It is actually kind of ironic that I finally got to see it in Israel, where religion, Judaism, is celebrated and practiced in so many different ways. My friend, who is also visiting her Oreo and his beautiful family, walked from the shtetl we are staying in to “town.” The first thing we encounter is a band playing a melody of pop hits.
The band consisted of one kid (since, at our age, they are all “kids”) playing the drums, wearing a kippah, one kid playing the guitar not wearing a kippah, a girl in a tank top playing the saxophone, and another girl playing the guitar. They were actually really good. The audience watching this band was the spectrum from soldiers with and without kippot to a singular Oreo and his family and everyone in between.
This is Israel.
If only we could all agree that however you practice your faith, we are all (for the most part) good and kind human beings.
Oh wait, this is a humor column. It was really nice to watch a movie that proved that life existed before social media. Before phones that weren’t attached to a wall and when the most dramatic part of the plot was Margaret getting her period and becoming a woman. Good times.
It brought me back to the summer that my friend sent us her wrapper from her first maxi pad. Just the wrapper — nothing gross — because there was actually a time where that was the most risqué thing that could happen. Boy, am I glad I had only boys…
Though, quite honestly, I am not sure how my Oreos are going to react to this column. My family started as four boys to one girl (if you could call me a “girl”) and now, thank God, we are eight girls to four boys. How did that happen???
Yes, I know how that happened, but it is just so incredible that it did happen.
All the topics that never had to come up in my house are now passed on to the next generation. Pretty ironic and humorous all at the same time. I occasionally have to apologize to my DILs that their husbands have no idea how to react to “girl” things. Makeup, shoes, clothes, emotions…apparently not everyone reacts like I do to things. Which is a very, very good thing.
In interviews, Judy Blume revealed that it took her decades before she would agree to turn any of her books into a movie. It was very important to her to give the movie the innocence that it deserved, preserving the time when it was written, the innocence of the characters — and this movie did just that. But also brought up so many issues about family, religion, life as a pre-teen.
Let us all just get along….
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is enjoying crunchy Cheetos, DIL #2’s cooking, and getting kisses from Danish. Thank you, Hashem.
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