I walk out of my yoga studio, click open the back of my SUV, throw in my Target-purchased yoga mat, climb in, and check my iPhone messages. I scan my Google calendar for any upcoming Starbucks meetings or needed Costco trips.
In this age of social media and digital technology, I’ve been having lots of conversations with my friends (via social media and digital technology) about vulnerability. Vulnerability, you should know, is also known as “sharing.” Before the internet “sharing” was something you taught your toddler and it involved trucks and blocks. Now it involves revealing scary and potentially embarrassing things about yourself with others whom you may or may not know.
On the way home from my last trip to Israel, I watched a movie I’ve been wanting to see for a while: “The Women’s Balcony.” The movie, set in Israel, is part of a new genre of film that studies Orthodox Jews and actually gets it right. It’s pretty exciting.
If there’s one thing that really scares me about my generation it’s our reliance on medication. Or maybe reliance is the wrong word. Maybe I mean using it as a substitute or a panacea. The older I get the more I become aware of how dependent we have become on products, pills and creams.
It used to be my embarrassing secret, like a schoolgirl who didn’t actually do her homework. Everyone would be talking about their turkeys, and guest lists, and leftovers, and I’m over here shopping for Shabbos dinner. After a number of years my husband would go buy some smoked turkey and have some on Thursday just so he could tell people he had his Thanksgiving turkey.
Part 1: My Grandmothers
Eat, eat mammele. Ess upp. Groise oigen. Your eyes are bigger than your stomach. Kugel and cholent and challah and sugar cookies. Pizza and fries. Studying for high school finals with a can of Coke and a bag of mesquite potato chips in my room above the garage. Every time. Effortless and guileless.