I like all the big awards shows: the Emmys, the Golden Globes… My mother and I have a tradition, if we are not together then at each commercial we call each other and discuss the award, the speech and, of course, the clothes. So this year, as I was watching the Golden Globes, I was left speechless on the phone.
An actor who shall remain nameless (I do not want to speak Lashon Hara - wicked tongue) was glorifying drugs from the podium. I know that it has happened before. I am not that naïve. But for some reason this year when he started with “How cool is it that I was just doing cocaine in the bathroom with a so and so,” I was disgusted.
Why this year did it bother me more than ever?
Is it because the tradition will also soon include my daughter and I talking at the commercials? I can’t let her watch this kind of talk. Or is it that an actor is paid to act. I do not want to hear about his illegal antics. If the drug thing is just part of the act then it is inappropriate and if it is not, then it is even more so.
We all know that we live in a society where our celebrities are our children’s heros. And as a mother, I never want my child to see someone they look up to glamorizing drug use.
A brief message to the upcoming Oscar winners: When you win, you are being rewarded for your acting. Be gracious, humble and brief. Most importantly keep your illicit activities to yourself. If you have to keep acting, to do that, keep acting. My kids are watching.
To date I have celebrated 39 Rosh Hashanah holidays. I have eaten a lot of brisket, chicken, apples and honey. And, after all this time, the celebrations have started to blend together. Dinner at home with the family, followed by services, more services, more food etc… for two days every year. Until this year.
As you know my mother was in the hospital recovering from brain surgery this Rosh Hashanah and since she is our matriarch and master host of the first holiday dinner every year - the Martha Stewart of the High Holy Days- everyone was in a tizzy.
Where would the 22 people that were coming to her house for dinner go? How would they eat? Pray? At first I thought maybe I should just send an email dis-inviting them. Really, under the circumstances they would understand. But my mom would not. Even if she had just gotten out of surgery. If I canceled I was worried she would never forgive me. Not a risk I was willing to take.
I did what any dutiful daughter would do. I brought Rosh Hashanah dinner to her hospital room. Yes, 22 adults and 7 small children crowded her room at Cedars Sinai. She had to sit in a chair; I needed her bed for the buffet. All her personal items and clothing were thrown into the shower; I needed every single inch of area space for drinks, paper goods and desserts. Sitting on the floor was not encouraged, it was mandated.
It was noisy. It was messy. It was crowded. Nurses complained. My mother was overstimulated. The food was cold, the drinks were warm. But it was a holy-day that no one there will ever forget. We lost the formality of the dining room, the stress of dishes and what to wear. No one was just playing along to make the rabbi happy. When we sang, everyone was huddled together, laughing and joyous - no one was too embarrassed. When we ate, the food all tasted good. When we prayed, everyone was present.
When we were just about to end there was a knock on our door. Everyone shushed. An old woman entered. Expecting her to start yelling at us, none of us looked directly at her. Then she spoke. “Was that the shofar blowing I heard?” “Yes, I replied meekly.” “If you get a chance, my husband is down the hall and he would love to hear it, would you mind coming by?”
Yes, this was the most memorable Rosh Hashanah ever.
I want to thank everyone for the outpouring of love and kindness that my family and I have been receiving since we learned of my mother’s illness. She had surgery yesterday and is doing well. We are all focusing on her recovery at this time and so I will be resuming this blog sometime after the High Holy Days. My brother, the techie, has set up a website for her friends and family with updates - you can find it at http://bzscolnick.blogspot.com. Shana Tova Umetucha (a very sweet new year), Sherre
I was recently preparing to speak to the Haddassah Convention with Rabbi Harold Kushner and Rabbi Laura Geller on “Happiness” when I came across a shocking statistic. In 1957 economists called the United States “The Affluent Society”, today we are twice as rich. We own twice as many cars per person. We eat out twice as often and we have technology in our homes that our ancestors never dreamed of. Yet -and this is the biggie - our happiness levels have decreased. The divorce rates have doubled. Depression and teen suicides have been on the rise. Not surprisingly, having more ‘things’ does not make for well being. (Of course in places where the people are dealing with basis survival on a daily basis this principle does not apply in quite the same way.) I have been thinking about it a lot. When have I been the most happy? Was it related to my financial status or something else? I can tell you that when I was in college, going to school full time and working at a consulting firm 30 hours a week all while watching my parents marriage crumble I was not happy. But I was very happy when I was sharing a small studio in Los Angeles with my best friend; eating dinner out of a toaster oven while going to Rabbinical school. Maybe this study is onto something. We can excel at making a living but fail to making a life.
One of the greatest gifts of publishing a book is reuniting with friends I have not seen or heard from in years. And so recently -after almost twenty years - I had a breakfast with a dear friend from college while I was in New York.I was not sure what to expect. Had she aged? Had I? Would we have anything to talk about after all these years?She saw me before I saw her. She smiled and immediately I felt like no time had passed. I hugged her. She looked the same and yet she didn’t. There was wisdom in her face, sadness in her eyes. We talked about my career and hers. Then as we were finishing our yogurt, she shared with me her tragedy of losing a child.Tears filled in my eyes. Life happened. Real life happened.When we were in college, we talked about boys and sororities. Our conversation never went much deeper. But here we were today, two adults who had not seen each other in years connecting in a way we hadn’t before.Maybe this would be the beginning of a new friendship. Maybe the next twenty years would open a door that had been shut. Maybe just maybe as adults we might even have more to talk about after all these years. Time will tell.
I love the Oscars.
To date I have celebrated 39 Rosh Hashanah holidays. I have eaten a lot of brisket, chicken, apples and honey. And, after all this time, the celebrations have started to blend together. Dinner at home with the family, followed by services, more services, more food etc… for two days every year. Until this year.
I want to thank everyone for the outpouring of love and kindness that my family and I have been receiving since we learned of my mother’s illness. She had surgery yesterday and is doing well. We are all focusing on her recovery at this time and so I will be resuming this blog sometime after the High Holy Days. My brother, the techie, has set up a website for her friends and family with updates - you can find it at http://bzscolnick.blogspot.com. Shana Tova Umetucha (a very sweet new year), Sherre
One of the greatest gifts of publishing a book is reuniting with friends I have not seen or heard from in years. And so recently -after almost twenty years - I had a breakfast with a dear friend from college while I was in New York.I was not sure what to expect. Had she aged? Had I? Would we have anything to talk about after all these years?She saw me before I saw her. She smiled and immediately I felt like no time had passed. I hugged her. She looked the same and yet she didn’t. There was wisdom in her face, sadness in her eyes. We talked about my career and hers. Then as we were finishing our yogurt, she shared with me her tragedy of losing a child.Tears filled in my eyes. Life happened. Real life happened.When we were in college, we talked about boys and sororities. Our conversation never went much deeper. But here we were today, two adults who had not seen each other in years connecting in a way we hadn’t before.Maybe this would be the beginning of a new friendship. Maybe the next twenty years would open a door that had been shut. Maybe just maybe as adults we might even have more to talk about after all these years. Time will tell.
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