Impulsivity

Periodically I find myself impulsive, needed to act right now when I shouldn't.  I cancelled endoscopic studies that I waited months to arrive as an immediate response to my wife's covid, something I could have avoided.  Need alternate care.  Ready to schedule myself with every GI identifiable on email who is not part of the group I found problematic.  I really should do one at a time.  Making snap responses about my synagogue, largely true, but could be more restrained.  Since my wife and I need to sleep separately while she recovers, I move consecutively between three OK but not optimal sleeping areas every few hours, or just keep awake and go to my electronics.  I've had this before.  It runs its course, but causes some damage along the way.

While experiencing insomnia, I watched a recording of a documentary by Tal Ben-Shahar, an organizational psychologist who gained fame as Harvard faculty but returned to his native Israel.  His documentary was on the elements of character of the people, those core principles, that have enabled an often besieged country and the people within it to excel beyond the achievements of those h disparage them.  He offered some characteristics that the population seeks out:

1. Family
2. Dealing with adversity
3. Education
4. Chutzpah
5. Taking Action
6. Tikkun Olam

I could do a little better on some of these things, starting with what I think is a minor health setback for which I need to respond in a more chutzpadik way.  If I need more suitable medical care, it looks like I need to be more assertive in pursuing it, unwilling to have unreasonable delays.  But also do this in a more thoughtful, controlled way than I've currently implemented.  

Use It Up

Each Wednesday or Thursday, the mail carrier delivers a small packet of weekly sales fliers from the regional supermarkets.  I intercept the Shop-Rite ad from the group, then over the next day or so, go through it a few pages at a time, noting the coupons, looking at what discounts generated thoughtful meal planning, then on a writing pad, in two columns, designate what I will definitely buy and what I might consider buying.  On Sundays, the coupons go electronic.  I download what I might consider onto my electronic bar-coded customer plastic for swiping at the register.  Then, based on how badly I need to go there for essentials, decide what day to do the major weekly resupply of groceries.

Thanksgiving week created a disruption to the usual pattern.  No postal delivery of supermarket inducements this week.  People must have been exhausted from their supermarket preparations.  The pre-Thanksgiving ad had a few must go back there with some coupons limited to the Friday and Saturday after the holiday, with minimum purchases needed to get the major discounts.  I had trouble reaching this threshold, but came home with the big box of half-price k-cups that captured my attention.

That's not to say the Shop-Rite promotional staff took a week off.  They still created what appeared to be their usual weekly display, but spared the landfills and recycling bins a bit by leaving it for online access.  I read it, finding it harder to do electronically than on paper.  As I went along, I entered my two columns.  Only three items on the must:   Discounted cereal, raspberries, and frozen vegetable.  Since I will be traveling in ten days and have enough of each of these things already in possession, my must list is really zero.  Having cancelled Thanksgiving dinner due to wife's covid, I already have unprepared menus, with a little catch up intended for my wife's birthday which occurs a few days before we depart for vacation.  No reason at all to go to Shop-Rite unless some essential gets used up before we go.

Visiting Rabbi

He drove all the way from Toronto to interview with us, leaving his wife at home while she recuperated from Covid.  I had a recuperating spouse too, but tested negative on the home antigen test that morning, as did a chair of the search committee, while the other co-chair also had partial isolation from a covid exposure.  I attended Minchah/ Havdalah, an assembly of nine men and four women, which gave us the abridged version, but left more time for teaching, which he did very well.  I also found him astute when challenged by interaction, but I was by far most vigorous on imposing questions and responses.

He seemed personable enough but the best selection for our waning congregation may be a little harder to tell.  Being more of an observer than an influencer, indeed I think largely marginalized in some ways in a place where insight or analytical skills seem devalued, I still have some impressions.

The fellow has a big beard, discreetly placed payot, and a large white crocheted kippah that covered much of his crew cut.  White shirt, dark pants, long tzitzit with p'til t'chalet dangling to about mid-thigh.  Part swami perhaps, part remnant from The Jewish Catalog series of the 1970s that both personalized Judaism but also created a largely ephemeral Chavurah fad.  Definitely a descendant of that background, not at all a carryover from Hebrew school.  I think his presence would have a uniqueness in our local Jewish community, maybe a less insular variant of Chabad.

Less certain perhaps, would be the prediction on his role as congregational rabbi on our particular agenda.  I think Saturday morning worship might become more of a targeted destination.  Sermons and side comments would have more of a sparkle, more reflective of a college graduate than Hebrew school graduate audience.  We would still struggle for a minyan.  Our liturgy would not change.  Unlikely that he would generate any new bimah participants.  And we would still have our gender disparity albatross and the reputation that it creates.

Classes would be series, or even individual presentations that he creates de novo.  We could learn rabbinics because he both knows and has an interest in rabbinics.  That may give our congregation uniqueness.  

The visiting Rabbi made an interesting observation in the parking lot.  He was asked whether he would find housing within walking distance of the synagogue, where some very attractive houses exist, or would he take the view of his predecessor that he has an obligation to his family to have them in a solidly Jewish area with ample institutions, commuting to fulfill his contractual obligations?  He responded that he needed to be part of the community as we have it.  In order for him to function not only as mara d'atra but as pastor, he needs to be among us.  Being familiar with the Jewish community of his native Toronto, I asked him about it.  It clusters geographically by denomination.  Ours had school districts with a lot of Jews when we arrived in 1980, but geographic distribution for reasons of prosperity enabling luxury housing or shifts in major employers has changed considerably.  But he seems to have an interest in being part of us, not just serving us.

Our Board's primary agenda for decades has been growing membership, or at least growing finances, amid a steady decline easily traceable through archived records.  I don't have confidence that he can make a difference in the aspect of our survival that the Board values most highly.  He perhaps can make us a more desirable place for the women who are here, but really cannot attract anyone who eliminates us from consideration on this element of our public presence.

In summary, I think those of us who like poking around Judaism's culture, heritage, and intellectual development will feel upgraded.  Those of us attracted to creativity will feel upgraded.  Our internal structures though, will not be upgraded.

Looking at Work Differently

My wife and I completed our stint as a two career couple, the first generation in which that became the norm.  Certainly my childhood friends had mothers who were teachers, either full-time or substitute, but for the most part dad worked, mom did things related to house and kids.  Perhaps around my college years cost of housing or food started to rise, so much so that the President imposed a ninety-day moratorium on most price increases by Executive Order.  At about the same time women's aspirations for their lives after college began to include lucrative career options.  Having a second substantial income added immensely to what married couples to do financially, from raising families even with the fairly high cost of child care, to purchasing houses, to travel, to savings for when the income would get interrupted either through job loss or retirement.  Those jobs, or really two jobs, became a highest priority asset, protected in every way, mostly by diligence when performing them.  Vacation was allotted, more than really needed from an American mindset, though the Europeans might disagree.  Retirement plans were funded to the max.  The good times would not last forever.  And so with the first job change, I got paid for unused vacation, with a second reimbursement for unused time after retirement.  Not a lot of money.  I saved the time more for security, should illness strike, which it didn't.  I also afforded myself what I thought I needed as a work respite, though not more.

My children now have responsible jobs too.  They seem much more casual with them, extracting their entitlements right now.  My son has gone overseas his first year and will be taking a six-week stretch away from the job in the coming month, combining three weeks of vacation for the closing year with three weeks in the new year.  My daughter, less bound by appointment schedules, also heads off frequently.  While they don't have childcare expenses, and I presume are diligent with retirement plan deductions, they seem more focused on their recreation than my wife and I were.  I don't think I missed out on anything important by rationing my allotted time off, often actually preferring the satisfaction that my professional obligations generated.  Perhaps the millennials like my children prioritize differently.  They can expect to reach their closing years with less financial securities, though perhaps with a greater inventory of fond memories.

Sleeping Elsewhere

With my wife isolated for confirmed covid, myself minimally symptomatic but with negative testing, and probably too impulsive in cancelling my upcoming long awaited endoscopic studies, I need a mixture of respite and reset.  First a different place to sleep for a few nights, then later maybe a different GI group.  It two nights I've had three different sleep locations, none really comparable to my own bed.  The recliner in My Space, long past its prime, has been a place where I can force the back to about 45 degrees or so, then rest.  Many times I have dozed off there while watching the Big Screen, never really awakening fully rested, often unable to return to full sleep in my own bed, but at least I can fall asleep there.  My daughter's room has a high quality single bed, probably my best default when my wife and I need to sleep separately.  We got it for her right before her brother was born, so the mattress and box spring are probably about 36 years old, still like new.  She slept in it nightly until college, with breaks for camp, seemingly well rested.  I find the mattress too hard, something Goldilocks would not only understand but take action to find something softer.  Still, I fell asleep with a sleep pattern of early awakening not different from my own bed, though perhaps not as well rested.  Last night I tried the new sofa, one we've had for only a few months.  It seemed about the right hardness.  It's seating width, at about 22 inches, was too narrow for optimal comfort, but the hardness of the surface, while more than my mattress, was adequate.  The pillows that came with this sofa were intrusive.  We had excellent throw pillows which I could use for my head.  The back pillows were not removable to expand width.  Most of last night there, finished on my daughter's mattress.  I got up a half hour early, not wanting to languish there.

This being Thanksgiving, had dinner not been cancelled due to household covid, I would have a full day in the kitchen, one of my more satisfying personal pursuits. I'm not terribly sleep-deprived, but less well rested than I need to be for a marathon effort of a multicourse dinner.  I have other things to do instead, many of them at my keyboard and screen.  I feel rested enough to tackle these,

though even with coffee, I will need to put myself horizontal somewhere for a few hours while it is still daylight.

Cancelling

My wife sang in a concert a few days back.  The principal tenor, present for rehearsals, cancelled out just a few days prior to the performance, having developed symptomatic Covid.  A replacement, a very capable one, was recruited on short notice allowing a magnificent performance of Mozart's Requiem to take place.  The church providing the venue overflowed its parking lot and filled nearly all its lower level.

Now a few days later, my wife develops respiratory symptoms and achiness.  Thermometer 101.6F.  Covid PCR +.  In my refrigerator I have a mostly thawed 17 pound Big Bird, $58 worth, but guests have been disinvited.  I now have sniffles myself, but no fever.  Still a colonoscopy looms in six days with my wife as designated driver and me on quarantine.  And air travel in two weeks.

Need to do some phone time.  Donate turkey, or make every effort to do that.  Reschedule endoscopic procedures.  Buy some more home covid tests or maybe have one done at the pharmacy for myself.  Having had a booster, only one, I do not have to self-isolate but do have to mask.  And see what happens to the sniffles.  Then next month, relent and get the next booster

To the best of my memory, I've not missed Thanksgiving before.  One year in medical school I purchased a reheatable kosher TV turkey dinner from Sol & Ely's Kosher butcher in St. Louis.  Even as a physician, since I worked every Christmas, I could anticipate being off for Thanksgiving.  

My own temperature is normal this morning, though I have subtle suggestions of early symptoms.  Just cancel whatever would get me in contact with anyone for the long holiday weekend.  And take advantage of some unanticipated Me Time.

Tale of the Kosher Turkeys

 

And other Thanksgiving adventures.

In my freezer I have a half turkey breast, enough for three with some extra to give my sister-in-law for shabbos.  With five people, a small whole turkey or whole turkey breast would be better.  For Kosher turkeys, Trader Joe's contracts with Empire to provide unfrozen birds.  They had only one on my trip there last week, maybe just slightly larger than I wanted, and too soon to buy a fresh one.  I opted to return with enough time to thaw a frozen one from Shop-Rite if Trader Joe's still did not have one.  They didn't.  Moreover, their customer service agent told me no new ones would be coming.  So on to Shop-Rite.  No fresh ones.  No turkey breasts.  Not that many whole frozen ones, the smallest just under 17 pounds. Their meat department rep assured me they had no others in the freezer.  I put it in the cart.  Now I could see if Super G had one, but being risk averse, I did not want to lose what I had just acquired, as there was just enough time to thaw a bird that size in the refrigerator.  Or I could stretch out that half turkey breast, or maybe go back to TJ to see if they had a second half turkey breast which would feed everyone between the two halves.  I played it safe, purchasing the Big Bird, $58 worth.  It will thaw.  Leftovers will freeze for many a shabbatot to follow, made even more economical with poultry soup once the carcass is harvested.  And along the way I got all the other things I needed supplemented by a few things I didn't need.

At checkout, the register tape informed me that if I spend just another $13 before Thanksgiving, I qualify for their premium, usually a whole Empire chicken or vegetarian illusion of turkey.  Chicken the better option but it takes up freezer room.  I'll return and find a way to spend another $13 to get a premium worth $16.

I do not have a good sense of why Kosher turkeys have become scarce.  Standard turkeys, mostly frozen seem plentiful, though a bit expensive, defrayed by the Shop-Rite incentive which includes them as a redemption premium.  And the sizes vary a lot more.  Empire has a virtual monopoly on this.  They operate their main plant just a few hours from where I shop, so international transportation snafus would be a lot less than for the other poultry mass producers.  Maybe they have difficulty getting labor.  Maybe their contracted farmers don't want to make deals with them.  Perhaps they have a shochet shortage, as their slaughtering cannot be mechanized.

And the absence of small birds deserves a comment.  There was a discussion in the Haredi community as they populated America as to whether the turkey was a Kosher bird.  The experts ruled that it was.  Then they debated whether it was appropriate to celebrate an American holiday with Thanksgiving's origins.  It was ruled OK but not mandatory.  Also convenient, as Torah is read in synagogues every Thursday.  This enabled Bar Mitzvah ceremonies that relatives who would need to drive could attend.  A big turkey or two provides for a luncheon.  Today, those are the largest families among the Jews, and the most who also routinely engage in communal meals.  So selling them large turkeys makes business sense.

The rest of us have gotten smaller families, often hard to assemble in a single gathering for a single meal.  That's my family.  When I go to shabbos morning services, thinking about how our congregation could serve its members better, I will sometimes count who had shabbos dinner alone the night before.  About half the people in attendance.  More of us are couples.  A few of us have children nearby, too far to come for shabbos, within driving range for Thanksgiving.  And a few of us have siblings that can assemble without air travel.  But large gatherings seem the exception.  The marketplace usually adapts to this.  It looks like Empire Kosher Poultry hasn't.

Long Checklist

Vacation on the horizon.  A week of mostly recreation in a new place, or at least a place I've not visited in a long time.  I made a list of what needs doing before leaving home.  It's a long list.

1. Thanksgiving
2. My endoscopy procedures
3. Submit next column
4. Make Monthly donations
5. Submit two articles
6. Submit U of D Contest recording
7. Return Library books
8. Followup stolen license plate
9. Monthly Excel Finances
10. Buy Hanukkah gifts
11. Airport Parking Reservations
12. Wife's birthday
13. Restore snowblower to function
14. CME License Renewal
15. Opioids Course
16. Child reporting course
17. Monthly Family Zoom
18. Arrange Florida visits
19. Toyota maintenance
20. Rabbi visit
21. AKSE committee followup
22. Trim beard
23. Yahrtzeit

Fortunately, nearly all have end points and nearly all have deadlines.  A lot of One and Done.  But still quite a lot.

Dinner Game Plan

Thanksgiving should be a little more populated this year with son and daughter-in-law joining us for a few days.  A chance to see what I can do in the kitchen and has host.  First a menu, all set.

1. Italian Bread for Motzi
2. Corn fritters
3. Butternut Squash soup with coconut milk
4. Cucumber chili salad
5. Whole Roast Turkey
6. Crock Pot stuffing
7. Sauteed Asparagus
8. Sweet Potato Casserole
9. Cranberry Sauce
10. Pumpkin Maple Bundt Cake
11. Assorted Beverages

Fair number of ingredients to get, but a list now under a magnet on the refrigerator door.  Probably a bottle or wine or two.  Have a bottle of sparkling cider.  No Soda.  I may have to not sample a couple if restricted by pending endoscopy preparation.

I need utensils and space.  Oven for bread, turkey, casserole, and cake, with duration of use and sequence taken into account.  Crock pot starts early, as does bread which needs to rise.  Stovetop has four burners to be allocated over fritters, soup, asparagus, and cranberry sauce.  Salad made cold.

Don't know yet if I will need to thaw the turkey, depends on if TJ has fresh Kosher ones of suitable size.  Some measuring to do, expect to use my full contingent of measuring devices.  And mixers, food processor, bowls, sheet pan, skillets, pots, bundt pan.  Bought a new salad bowl.  Knives for chopping and slicing, all sharpened in advance.  Probably will need a strainer.  

By late afternoon, a fully set Thanksgiving table with perhaps a few misadventures and first-aid in the process.

U of D Contest

Last year my submission earned honorable mention, which got me a very enjoyable luncheon and a gift certificate, also with a chance to learn a little from a few unique minds.  No barrier to making another submission this year, other than a deadline.

They want to know this season if I am More Than a Number.  Sometimes yes, sometimes no.  I think the better question would be whether the times when we should be unique and the times when we should be aggregated done appropriately.  The doctor would not be very effective if individuality were dismissed, but also not very effective if advice did not depend on mass experience treating others with overlapping features to the illnesses presented.  What I order from Amazon nearly always comes to me as specified.  That could not happen in the absence of a system that knows nothing about me.

And sometimes results of this distinction are not benevolent, as we are finding out with mass communications and social media.  Mass broadcasts generate individual responses.

And how do I feel about it.  U of D gives specific questions to answer in the submission.

• ​Reflect on a personal experience in which you felt you were treated like a number. How did the experience affect your life or the lives of others in your family and community?
• How have you reacted to the experience?
• What actions have you taken?
  
• What do you think is the eventual impact on society? Personal relationships? The political process?

These all need to be answered too.  I think I can do this by Thanksgiving.

Making Supper

Most evenings, making supper has drifted to my household task.  I mostly like doing this.  It ties with my other generally weekly chore of the supermarket, divided between Shop-Rite for most items with bread, eggs, cheese, and a few others better obtained at Trader Joe's.  Merging the two, as I shop I think about what my wife and I will eat.  This skill has acquired value now that food prices have spiked but Shop-Rite continues to tease people to shop there preferentially with its weekly on sale circular.

Having done this for a while now, I have generated a pattern, if not a routine.  As Thanksgiving approaches, I could not possibly squeeze a turkey into my freezer since the repertoire of daily meal options has taken up most of that volume.  Meat is usually only once weekly, for shabbos, either chicken or beef, elaborate when guests come, seared or dumped in crock pot when dining as a couple.  We eat what we can, maybe save some for a second meal, and for stewed items which are better made in large quantities, freeze half for a subsequent shabbos.  Add a starch and a vegetable.  Not much for desserts.

I have my specialties:  Lasagna with a spinach and cheese base or Macaroni & Cheese a la Horn & Hardart, their automat serving as my culinary destination when I ventured into Manhattan in my youth.  These each make four meals, one the day of preparation, the second a day or two later, the last two as fast food from the freezer.  No additional starch needed with these.

Then I have fast food.  Veggie burgers of a variety of types depending on what was discounted.  I particularly like phony beef.  Pierogies come in boxes of twelve, don't even have to thaw.  Just dump in boiling water.  Nature has its own fast food in the form of fish.  Modern processing has made this easy.  Instead of a display case, not totally abandoned, the better way is frozen.  Trader Joe's has pairs of tuna steaks which I divide and put in plastic wrap before freezing.  Other species get frozen at sea after they have been portioned, then sold in one or two pound frozen bags.  Whether tuna, haddock, or cod, just thaw the fillets the night before, season with whatever inspires me at the time of preparation, then either sear if tuna or broil if something else.  Add a potato.  Add a vegetable, usually stored in the freezer, and we have a day's nutrition with no leftovers.   

Eggs have their own versatility.  Quiche is surprisingly easy to make.  Crust forms in minutes with a combination of four parts flour to one each of olive oil and water with a trace of salt.  Squish into a pie pan.  Custard is just four eggs, some milk, some cubes taken from whatever chunk cheese I have in the refrigerator, and the spices of momentary inspiration.  I could just pour this over the crust, but I prefer a filling, mushrooms and onions if in my possession, perhaps carrots or broccoli boiled, then sliced.  Into the crust, pour the custard over them, and into the oven.  Two meals.  Frittatas I make less often but also an invitation to improvise.

So we eat reliably, mostly economically, and I have a measure of creativity with planning and execution followed by some moments of accomplishment while eating.

Late Friday Night Service

 

As a youngster even to recent times, the non-Orthodox congregations held their Friday night services comfortably after supper, typically at 8PM.  They took their chances on competition with the network schedule, That Was the Week that Was in the 1960s, Dallas in the 1970s, all prior to the VCR so gone once missed.  Despite cultural competition, for many shabbos had a priority, or maybe immersion in one's kehillah did.  Bat Mitzvot, including my sister's, took place on Friday night.  In many ways, it was an adaptation to reality, or maybe taking advantage of an opportunity to connect those who would be taking the boys to Little League on Saturday to the congregation.  

At my United Synagogue of America congregation, Friday night had its distinctiveness.  Our clergy were absolutely traditional.  A shabbos or yontif at my shul would be largely indistinguishable from most of the nearby Orthodox places except for mixed seating and an active parking lot.  Yet Friday nights, American culture prevailed.  The liturgy of the Silverman Siddur, fully maintained Saturday morning, gave way to a couple of English responsive readings in lieu of Hebrew.  A volunteer choir conducted by a friend's mother with an organ to provide a subdued continuo engaged a few adult congregants who liked to sing.  For the Bat Mitzvot, the Haftarah found its insertion along with a speech by the girl.  Our Rabbi spoke, not about Torah, but about contemporary issues from civil rights to the challenges of suburban living, though always imparting some aspects of traditional Judaism that underlie the things we pursue as Americans, or often challenge them. An oneg shabbat would follow the service, always pareve in anticipation of the fleishig shabbos dinner that preceeded each service.  Tea, some pastries, some fruit.  It was here that people would mingle, kids segregating among their chums from Hebrew school who would reappear at Junior Congregation the following morning, their parents with each other, and the seniors and Holocaust survivors with each other.  We were multigenerational, though probably not truly intergenerational.  

A weekly event would overwhelm any desire to have outside speakers at each oneg, but with some frequency a short program could be assembled.  We had a variety of speakers including NAACP officials and people of title within the school system.  But we also had events that were more internal, perhaps having the Ramah campers within the congregation do a couple of the dances they would perform each shabbos at camp or one shabbos honoring the congregation's high school seniors after they have made their college choices each May.  People thought about who was in our congregation and what made each subdivision special in its own way.

Across town, in my Jewishly diverse suburb, stood a growing Reform congregation with its iconic Rabbi of decades tenure, outgrowing its home as the GI bill brought secular newly prosperous veterans with growing families to our town.  Their new home opened in better proximity to the many housing developments created in the 1960s.  While that may have been the place we Conservative affiliates would only enter as Bar Mitzvah guests, we all new many dedicated members as families of our public school classmates.  They were similarly engaged in Hebrew School, Bar Mitzvah preparation, their teen group, and often with weekly worship.  Fathers were able to afford the suburban homes from their salaries that they generated as professionals, middle managers, sales representatives, and educators, mostly communting each workday to New York City, some 45 minutes away.  Work imposed its stress, to be relieved by closing time on Friday, heralding a two day respite from their rat race.  Dinner served as a centerpiece, less as shabbos, more as escape.  Their synagogue centered its Sabbath activities around Friday night, allowing for a dinner more elegant than TV dinners which had emerged as dietary staples of the workweek.  Some men made it home in time for their choice of three newscasts, others did not.  The synagogue had one shot per week to get people there for the only regularly scheduled Jewish observance that most would have outside the Holy Days.  Services began at 8 or 8:30PM, mostly English from the Union Prayer book, a message from the Rabbi, then snacks and schmooze.  Saturday went to yardwork or children's extracurriculars, Sunday for Hebrew School and Men's Club perhaps.  That left a very small worship window that had to avoid conflict with the immediate break from the work week.  There would be no second chance on Saturday for most.  Without Late Friday, the synagogue would not have its place as a scheduled destination for nearly as many as it attracted.

Since then some fifty years have passed.  With it came myriad changes.  Bat Mitzvah ceremonies moved to Saturday morning with the boys.  The VCR, and later DVD, enabled people to see the show that conflicted with kabbalat shabbat the following day.  Intermarriage, which had been the focus of many Rabbinical presentations fifty years ago, established itself as common.  In the Conservative communities, threats of shunning and a measure of hostility to the parents of intermarried shifted membership toward the Reform congregations.  Attrition of membership poses a financial threat so congregations shifted into more of an acceptance framework, enabling conversion programs through either the synagogues or through cooperative efforts of regional rabbis.  And those partners who did not choose to convert still had a place in the congregation, while their children could participate in Hebrew School and youth programs, though with some restrictions.  Moreover, as intermarriage became more common, the couples tended to remain in Jewish population centers.  It was the more isolated congregations in Alabama, central Pennsylvania, or the midwest whose Jewish populations depleted, more from migration of offspring than their intermarriage.  Moreover, Jewish university graduation of the next generation became the norm, with job offers far removed from the hometown, lucrative enough to accept despite the distance, and with synagogues benefitting from their newcomers.  Women also obtained advanced schooling with the job offers creating career couples of high salary but time constrained by the diligence required for career advancement.  Late Friday Night services continued to serve as a focus of Jewish affiliation amid these cultural shifts.

It is unclear why the crossover point away from this half century congregational staple occurred, perhaps even when it occurred.  Yet its utility became apparent during my year of Kaddish for my father.  By 2009, only the Reform congregation offered a service at 8PM.  My own shul started at 6PM on Friday evening, mincha during Daylight Savings time, Kabbalat Shabbat during Standard time.  The Conservative congregation had discontinued its late service as well.  Not attending either, I do not know if minyanim regularly materialized, or even if that is the optimal metric of synagogue success, as there always seemed something minimalist about eking out only ten people for what should be a week's highlight.  But as a secular professional, I usually found myself doing the week's final consults or sometimes beginning weekend call for colleagues when my turn arose.  I could get home by 7PM, have supper heated by my wife whose occupational predictability and priorities enabled her to be home by candle lighting, then drive the fifteen minutes in time for the Reform service.  The Union Hymnal had given way to Mishkan Tefillah prayer book, which allowed diversity of liturgy each week.  A security guard greeted me as I entered, then an usher handed me the program as I entered their sanctuary.  Attendance seemed about 50-70 adults most weeks, supplemented by about a dozen children, mostly pre-Bar Mitzvah, who would be called up to the Bimah for Kiddush, then blessed with Birchat Kohanim, as the Rabbi and congregation extended their hands in their direction.  A congregant was assigned candle lighting, irrespective of sundown.  The people there seemed to know the tunes that the congregation used.  Most Friday nights the Rabbi spoke, though on occasion that honor was delegated to a congregant of special knowledge or an outside guest of notable accomplishment.  Kaddish had a certain solemnity, with the Rabbi asking mourners to rise in sequence, from shiva, shloshim, kaddish year, yahrtzeits, and lastly those who want to say kaddish for those who have nobody present to represent them.  Then closing hymm, which varied from one week to the next.  Finally motzi from the Bimah, followed by Oneg in an adjacent room.  If there were to be a Bar Mitzvah the following morning the boy was invariably present and recognized.  As an observer and as a participant, people seemed to enjoy being there.  It also afforded special events, from community partnerships for  MLK Day to an annual Purim Shpiel pageant, which they held the shabbos before Purim.  There was liturgy, but there was also community.  There was a place where members could come at a convenient time for their yahrtzeits, and they did.  We could all enjoy the Cantor's impressive musical repetoire which changed weekly.  And at the Oneg, I could usually anticipate a neighbor or professional colleague in attendance who I had not seen in a while.

This weekly option has mostly disappeared from my community, in toto for several years, but recently reinstated on a limited basis by the local United Synagogue affiliate.  Not having been to any evening service outside of the Holy Days in a while, attending seemed like an opportunity to reacquaint myself with once was, a shift from the formalities of my usual attendance at my own congregation on shabbos morning.  I was not at all disappointed.  There really are things that lend themselves best to the informalities that follow supper for most of us, which may be why at my professional dinners or charitable receptions the keynote speaker arises after everyone has eaten.  Guest speaker highlighting Veterans Day, along with recognition of congregants who had served, common at one time, less so as the military shifted away from conscription.  Musical instruments accompanied the Cantor, who helped memorialize Shlomo Carlebach on his yahrtzeit by incorporating some of his melodies into the Friday night liturgy.  Attenace seemed ample, both in person and via Zoom, something difficult to duplicate when people have to juggle their TGIF with a hastened dinner to worship at the customary times.

Seeing the Late Friday Night shabbos gathering move from the non-orthodox norm to a designated event makes me wonder if its current rarety diminished what suburban congregations once were.  Shabbos is indeed about family dining together in a special way and seeing flaming candles in attractive candle holders.  Motzi over challot is probably common as is kiddush.  But for many families shabbos ends right there.  Doubt the meals include traditional songs as they did at camp or if the children get to learn who Ephraim and Menassheh were as the sons are blessed, though the daughters probably knew of their matriarchs, assuming the blessings are given.  Birchat HaMazon likely not the conclusion of the meal.  And then leisure ends.  Early service before the special dinner so that the meal could be open-ended or compete with the urgency of the TV schedule?  Doubt it for most families.  It would be interesting to poll some of those in attendance at Late Friday Night which I attended to see how their shabbat's compare on the other weeks.  There are just some things Jewish that require removing distractions.  Shabbos in America is probably among those things, with no greater distraction than making shabbos services the first rushed appointment after the work week concludes.  The service times of my youth were chosen to avoid that.  They probably still would.

Slogging Through Daily Tasks

It's one of those poorly motivated mornings.  Much that I need to keep up with but would make excuses not to.

1. Arrange auto service
2. Review Medicare Open Season options
3. Call Gastroenterologist regarding unclear endoscopy instructions
4. Finish an article, really two
5. Search for publication destinations
6. Continue difficult library book
7. Write My Story as my legacy
8. Do my next YouTube
9. Make Snowblower function
10. File Papers
11. Do CME to renew Pennsylvania medical license
12. Treadmill session
13. Begin daily stretching program

Excuses for not doing all, no matter how easy in lieu of doing the pleasurable but low payoff.  Do Treadmill and a few more, then the pleasurable later.

Some Kitchen Adventures

Despite some accumulation of fishing tackle a couple years back, I haven't gone fishing lately.  My art supplies remain ample but no meaningful drawing, watercolor, or adult pencil coloring have been performed.  My two harmonicas remain unused despite being kept within arms reach. Garden post-season.  All desire for recreation that never materialized.   Even my self-expressive writing seems in a lull.

All partially replaced by my attraction to the kitchen as my recreational outlet.  It could be more orderly, maybe neater.  Yet its utensils, appliances, ingredients, and final results keep me energized.  Even the cleanup offers a welcome challenge and misadventures a learning opportunity.

My shopping amid higher prices seems to reflect this.  When I buy something I think about what I will do with this as it goes into the cart.  Chicken breasts for shabbos, frozen fish or garden burgers for supper, whipping cream with the ice cream.  Apple walnut pie soon, as apples, walnuts, sour cream, sugar all on the week's sale items at Shop-Rite this week.

And then the big two:  Thanksgiving and wife's birthday.  Menu planning, sorting procedures to sequence use of stove, oven and electric appliances needed for multiple courses.  All with an elegant end in mind.  But apple walnut pie first.

Some Shopping

 

Went to the stores, Shop-Rite for serious and large food purchases and then some early browsing for Hanukkah gifts, which I like to have at least selected, if not in hand, by Black Friday.  Two very different experiences, resulting in relatively erroneous impressions of how voters might respond to their shopping realities, as voting proceeded while I shopped.

Food has definitely gotten expensive.  And for people in retirement like me, counting on our IRAs, their value has headed south while the need to spend some of those funds has moved higher.  Shop-Rite issues a weekly newsprint ad that arrives unsolicited in the mail but is duplicated online.  I read it, note what is on sale, then create a shopping list from it.  Easy.  I also try to create menus for the near future from those ingredients, much like the super chefs of Iron Chef had to make the most of the ingredients mandated for them at Kitchen Stadium.  Not easy, but both manageable and something of a personal challenge.  Shop-Rite puts the items on the front page of their weekly circular right at the entrance to the store, so things go in the cart quickly.  Others things notably discounted go at the end of aisles.  Experience at navigating their store has a big advantage.

Not all items have inflated in price equally.  Produce remains seasonal, despite farming becoming global with fruits and vegetables imported from the Southern Hemisphere whose farming seasons differ from mine.  You still have to get the products from there to here, with transportation now more expensive and less reliable.  So fruits and vegetables still peak with the seasons, reflected in part in price.  Apples approaching season, down tick in price, uptick in menu presence as Thanksgiving approaches.  Meat has gotten expensive, even though produced domestically with animals fed things generated on American farms.  Kosher meat, my personal exclusive for religious reasons, has limited availability, limited selection, and approaching a prohibitive price.  Still I found four chicken breast halves notably reduced.  They come in pairs, but easy enough to re-wrap each individually at home and freeze.  Makes four shabbos dinners if we eat alone.  

Processed foods pose more of a pricing challenge, some explainable, some not so easy to rationalize.  I like making lasagna.  Noodles on sale, frozen spinach economical, block cheese which I shred about what it usually costs, jarred spaghetti sauce cheap and often on sale.  Cottage cheese above budget.  Have no explanation why, particularly when its shelf neighbors sour cream and cream cheese remain within acceptable price range, even discounted one brand each week.  Butter very expensive.  Yogurt with stable price.  Cake mixes discounted.  Staples of flour and sugar, each requiring factory processing and packaging more expensive than I've ever seen them.  Soda eliminated from diet for health reasons but at prices I've not seen before. Yet seltzer, which is flavored rather than sweetened, has shown stability of price across brands.  Interestingly, fish has become my go-to protein.  Now harvested in bulk and packaged at sea.  Sold frozen, keeps forever, just pull a couple of fillets to thaw the day before needed and nature supplies its version of fast food.  Per meal price OK, per pound price has stabilized after an acceleration that predated our current food inflation.  Cookies, cereals, and other items where the packaging has more nutritional value than the product have exceeded what I am willing to pay, though selected items are always discounted by the store each week.  In order to make these, producers create marketing and R & D teams to develop just the right sensory and packaging experience to lure the consumer at maximum price.  To do this, they often assemble an ingredient list that is both extensive and global.  This makes these products highly susceptible to price and availability fluctuations of individual components and the vagaries of transportation needed to get all this stuff to central factories so that all ingredients are available at the same time for production.  These packaged goods prices seem highest of all.  I am sort of at the mercy of mini-challots, now about $5 for a package of six, or three shabbos dinners, though I could make my own.  Alas, my own attempts at mini-challot have not gone well, and probably not worth the effort for a small savings.  

Consumers may divide into two camps.  There are people like me, probably a minority, who adapt their diets to price and availability. This may be the human default, as our hunter-gatherer ancestors really had no other option.  Changing shopping preferences comes as a challenge.  Giving up convenience foods may even generate better health.  And then there are people who like their products, will pay what is asked, and maybe find a whipping boy for their displeasure, be it the store or the elected official, neither of whom is truly responsible, though each is accountable.  Our food inflation exposes oodles about markets and supply.  It also reveals, perhaps, more than we would like about some of us as people and our collective willingness to adapt.

Non-perishable Hanukkah shopping went differently.  My list now totals twenty items with a need to stay within budget and to be able to ship items to remote locations.  While I judged it premature to purchase, there was no shortage of what I could purchase.  As the Eagles are currently undefeated, anything with their logo has inflated, likely based on consumer demand and licensing fees.  But grooming supplies, stationery, stuff with a cat logo, apparel accessories, petty edibles like candy, and things to make the kitchen friendlier seem to have avoided the dramatic price increases so obvious at the supermarket.  

As I approach Thanksgiving, where food splurges intersect with personal traditions, I probably have only a few perishables to add to food obtained yesterday.  I have created the menu and can anticipate the blend of challenge and joy executing it.  That same two weeks, and likely a little more, can be diverted to selecting gifts, thinking about the personalities and likes of the four individual recipients, that will enhance their own festivities without undue extravagance on my part.  

Distracted

These past few weeks I've found myself distractible.  It's been difficult to pick a task and just focus on it, let alone complete it.  My writing has been mostly partially written, though I have responded well when asked to comment on what somebody else has presented.  Home projects get started, even completed when a small end point is defined, but the larger projects for which they are components gets left in the middle.  I keep appointments with others mostly flawlessly, attending my committee meetings if not fully participating in all and not missed an OLLI class or an opportunity to pose a question to the instructor.  Social media still functions as too much of a default sink.  The treadmill functions like an appointment, one that is kept, as is my personal morning hygiene.  And I've been pretty faithful to my daily crosswords, Atlantic daily article, Forward two articles, and daily TED Talk, so my mind gets its stimulation.

By now, nearly all of my expression takes place on a screen, whether writing for others to read, a weekly video series begun this summer, or committees by Zoom.  I don't seem to do as well as I might staying with the screen I am using without shuttling to another to do something else.  I've tried the timer, partially helpful.  But perhaps the next step would be coaching to deter getting distracted. Or a more rigid definition of when I am done. 

Back as Torah Reader

It had been my intent to drop out of our congregation's Torah reading cohort for a few months, I forget how many, returning around Hanukkah.  While technically I had another few weeks fallow, I agreed to prepare one for the week before Hanukkah, with a couple of strings attached.  Primarily I choose which one I want, which will escape the rather destructive slouch to giving the men what they did last year to get the schedule filled with the least burden on anyone.  For some things, like learning or advancing skills, that burden is an essential component of the curriculum.

Invitation came, Parsha VaYeshev.  I looked through the seven sections, mostly about Joseph going into slavery, with a small break right in the middle for the story of Yehudah's transformation to a mensch.  It's the longest of that week's aliyot, about a full column, thirty verses, but within my capacity for the time allotted.  Yehudah's tale did not attract me.  That fell to a minor character, his son Onan.  He was an incompetent gardener, just like me.  He spilled his seed.  I planted mine.  But we each neglected to fertilize.  I survived.  He did not.  Neither did most of my planting this season.

Figure three verses a day, learn it in two weeks, polish it the week before while vacationing in Florida.  Within my capacity.

Return to Standard Time

Clocks reset.  My wife did the ones not connected to cyberspace.  Those with links to some central clock did their own.  I'm not sure about my car yet.  It was notable to stare at my smartwatch as 2AM approached, see it display 2AM, then reset itself to 1AM an instant later.

It's a day of an hour's extra sleep, except I'm not really in need of catchup.  In fact, my sleep pattern has taken a life of its own.  After a few hours, I awaken spontaneously, stay awake for a couple of hours darkness despite my best effort to return to sleep, then finally succeed only to be woken by a wrist buzz from my smartwatch that seems an hour short of optimal.  EST should correct that, at least for a few days.

I arose before the buzz.  On retrieving the newspaper, which had not come, the morning looked much brighter than it had with the final month of EDT.  In some ways, our clock system seems a contrivance to accommodate equally arbitrary work, school, or TV schedules.  Year round DST would leave mornings dark while people scrambled to do what they needed to do, impaired by the regulatory hormones and chemicals that act independently of our timekeeping mechanisms.

It had been my intent last night to go for coffee on this first morning of Standard Time, taking with me the pouch that I use for weekly planning each Sunday and some half-sheets that I use for creating my Daily
Task List.  Instead, I went to My Space with some easy K-cup coffee, followed by a second cup, before the Brew HaHa would even open on their newly adjusted schedule.

However time is defined, whether by nature or by clock consensus, we all adapt to it rather quickly.  Shabbos times still follow astronomical realities.  My OLLI classes adapt to the definition of the clock.  Both pretty much proceed as they otherwise would with some minor accommodations.

Resetting My Garden

It didn't take very long to yank out all the vines from my two backyard square foot gardens and place the ample organic segments in a plastic bag.  My 32 squares are now entirely bare, covered by pretty much the same mulch as before last spring's planting, with the tomato stakes and plastic ID labels left behind.

Ending the season comes more easily than assessing the season, both for the backyard and the front door pots, which have not yet been closed for the winter.  Both had disappointing yields.  Tomatoes had a lot of green but not a lot of reproduction.  The vines proliferated so well as to outgrow their squares, intimidate the small commercial stakes I obtained for each, and effectively function like weeds.  All this without any exogenous nutrients placed on my part.  I got a little lettuce but didn't harvest it.  Peppers and eggplants bought as starter plants from a nursery all got crowded out.  No beets.  Beans produced but got eaten by pests before harvest.  No cucumbers, something mostly reliable in past seasons.  Pumpkin planted as an afterthought did not take hold.  Effectively a dud of an effort, though also limited by a mediocre input on my part.  This year, I did not plant any herbs in the backyard, reserving it for vegetables with herbs allocated to pots outside the front door.  Basil great.  Everything else, even the spearmint, without meaningful yield.

Since I really want to have a productive source of herbs for cooking and vegetables for supplementing what I get at the supermarket, just like the celebrities of cooking shows have, some learning assessment needs to take place, with a few decision points resolved.  As attractive as a square foot pattern seems, mine never seems to do as well as the fellow on TV.  Perhaps for the next season I should return to rows.  Five tomato plants dominate the planting space.  I need to choose two, one in each bed.  Cages contain lateral growth, stakes do not, and even fall over.  Back to cages.  Cucumbers deserve another go, also with some attempt to have the vines grow vertically. So do beans.  Chard is supposed to be easy to grow, especially with a square foot design, but mine has not.  If I do lettuce again, which I may not as I am not a lettuce enthusiast, rows would be better.  My soil is too shallow for carrots, which are inexpensive from commercial sources at the supermarket.  Beets were disappointing.  If I plant them again, which I might as I like them and they are expensive at the store, they will need more attention than I provided them.

I do not have a good grasp of why my herb pots did so poorly.  Basil is basically a weed.  It should get its own pot.  My indoor basil takes over any container, including the aerogarden.  It needs to be left to itself.  The big pot can contain three herbs.  I don't know why dill did so poorly.  Parsley used to do well in a big pot shared with other things, though overgrown this year by the basil.  And while thyme and oregano spill over the margins of their pots when planted near the edges, I struggle to thin and harvest them as they grow.  Still, a portion at the edged of the big pot seems the way to go.  Some of my pots got waterlogged.  Drainage is essential.  Failure of rosemary and spearmint late in season, two plants I could previously count on, has no easy explanation.

So the gardening goes dormant for the coldest months, perhaps with some planning when too cold to venture outdoors.  Reconsideration for next spring, intent on a better outcome.

Meatballs

Last shabbos dinner on DST, creating the onset of shabbos at just before our usual dinnertime.  Its preparation has largely been my household task, largely because I like doing it.  During my working years when I would return home long after candle lighting, two chicken breasts would get seared in a skillet, then baked in an oven, then put in the refrigerator for reheating most weeks.  For others I would assemble vegetables and meat in the crock pot and let it slow cook for the day.  Other weeks, I would reheat what the crock pot supplied the week before.  Retirement has given me more leeway to prepare the meal during the day, just like the baalaboostas of old did.  Even so, with Standard Time starting shabbos before our customary dinner hour, whatever I make has to hold up for two hours either in a crock pot or a warm oven.

Poultry and beef cubes serve this purpose well.  Beef slabs and ground beef pose more of a challenge.  My poultry supply, usually a collection of chicken breasts or cut-up chickens divided into two portions as soon as they come home from Shop-Rite, has largely depleted to a single turkey breast half allocated for Thanksgiving and a very large space-consuming whole roaster chicken to await guests.  Beef obtained a package at a time when discounted has accumulated.  So this week I went for beef.  I pulled out a package of ground beef, which needs to defrost.

Meat loaf has been the usual dinner from this, but I thought I'd like to try meatballs instead.  Three classical options:  Klops, ablondigas, or Italian meatballs and spaghetti, none of which I have made in a very long time, each illustrating a certain ethnicity.  Recipes on the internet, particularly with Kosher adaptations, seemed few.  Ingredients are flexible:  mostly an egg, bread crumbs, and seasonings, much as meat loaf or hamburger would be made.  However, they are all made on a stove top with sauce, which means they need some attention as they cook.  Defrosting done.  Make a decision on how to best use this package of ground beef this evening so I'm ready to go tomorrow.

Making My Kitchen Sparkle

Progress comes in increments but I think I have at least a conceptional completion image.  The kitchen has become the place in my home where I perform.  Food dominates, paper impedes.  Short articles and decluttering chapters in larger books for optimal kitchen organization abound.  My needs are less lofty.  I want to be able to find what I need when I need it.  It would be nice if it functioned less like a bowling alley where one object causes another to fall.  Storage zones have gone reasonably well.  I have places for cookware, milchig and fleishig, utensils, dishes.  There's a pantry with crude categories of what goes where.  The refrigerator can use an afternoon's purging, but the freezer no longer has randomness of its contents.  I put items scattered on the floor into reasonable categories.  When I need another bottle of seltzer chilled, I know where to find it.  Morning coffee supplies cluster in one place on the counter.  Basically not bad.  My challenges, though, have always been the surfaces, the table, counters, and to a lesser extent the fleishig island.  Assignment of space by frequency of use needs some attention.  Coffee more than daily.  Dishwashing continual.  Cleansers infrequent.  They need to go someplace else.  French Presses less than weekly.  Toaster daily.  Radio constant.  Containers for flowers for shabbos table weekly, but only use one at a time.  Utensils and sharp knives daily.  Those stay on the counter.

And then the table.  Organized now as paper and not-paper, then subdivided to my stuff and wife's stuff.  I rearrange a lot, never complete.  Need to just get everything off of it, wash it thoroughly, then create rules for what can return to that flat surface.  Start with my stuff, since I control it.  And soon.  And maybe there will be a day, even a moment, when I can announce DONE.

Assigning Times

Yesterday began with a fixed appointment.  Assessing highway likelihoods, I needed to check into the Blood Bank for a periodic platelet donation at 8:30AM, which created much of what I would do the rest of the day.  Morning routine of dental, eye drops, Monday scale and waist tape measurements, and antihypertensives along with coffee, retrieving the newspaper from the driveway, and a few dishes.  It was a treadmill day off.  The Blood Bank requires its donors to eat within three hours of their appointment, so that needed to be done quickly.  Travel meant that I had to get dressed earlier than usual.  Despite arising at my usual time, to do all this, the emails and crosswords had time limits that coincided with coffee consumption.  I made it.  Donated to a worthy recipient, while I stayed tethered to a recliner for two hours, watching Netflix while I probably would have been doing other things at home.  In retrospect, being ready to leave the house earlier was a good thing.  

On treadmill days, though, I much prefer to stay in my night clothes while exercising.  But on days off, I should hasten the day by getting dressed right after the first cup of coffee, and on treadmill days, get dressed right after the session concludes.   The treadmill itself has an approximate time, not exactly to look forward to as much as assure that it gets done, which it nearly always does.  Its assigned time delays my caloric intake, as I do not like serious physical effort on a full stomach, so therefore it also marks how the rest of the day will proceed.

OLLI courses, now four days weekly, has helped frame my daylight hours.  I have to be there at set times, but I like leaving home earlier to be in their lounge for a while, either drinking coffee, chatting with an old friend at times, or exploring where my smart phone can take me.  It's not exactly productive, rarely helping me pursue anything on my Daily Task List, but a form of welcome relaxation amid other people.  So most weekdays can divide to before OLLI today and after OLLI today.

Supper, nearly always made by me, also has taken a reasonably set time of 6:30PM most evenings.  My time in the kitchen for preparation is usually minimal.  Stuff comes out of the freezer, either the day before or at the time.  A potato can go in the oven for as long as it takes.  The evening's protein rarely takes a lot of attentive time.  The vegetable goes in the microwave or boiling water.  And then we eat.

And so my daylight hours are framed by must do's that essentially always get done.  These, however, are a small fraction of my Daily Task List, most of which has no assigned time.  Thus broad swaths of writing, reading, housekeeping, and recreation need to find places inbetween activities with time allotments, or get their own time allotments.  I've not been doing very well at this, which reflects something of a shortfall between what I intended as my Semi-Annual projects and what remains to be done with two months remaining in the current cycle.  But I still have two more months to make the correction.