Old Ruti's Post of Practical Cats

7 Av 5779.

When I was a girl, we grew up with cats named Horatio P. Worthington and Thadeus P. Morley. I can't remember how much input we children had in the names. Maybe my mother made them up entirely, and our job was mere life-long memorization and appreciation. Maybe it was a group project. In any case, the mesora stuck, with the usual generational tweaks. After all, post-1960, you can't give a cat the initial "P" for "Pussycat" with a straight face. Such is the tragic usurpation of language by the prurient. But I digress -- and the chow line is forming.

Outside my door awaits Winston Katrick O'Boogie IV for his bowl of Friskies, augmented by Shabbat leftovers. Crouching on the artificial grass some meters away, looking abused and resentful, Mrs. Efluvia Katharine Hissinbottom, aka Hissbutt, waits her turn. Nearby scamper her progeny: Stop, Drop and Roll. They will not be permitted indoors. They are being paid in advance to hang around outside.

During our first five years in Neve Daniel, we were relieved (especially after life in rat-infested Baltimore) to meet nary a rodent. Cats crept everywhere -- but the trade-off was fine with us. In year six, something or someone killed off all the local feral cats... and in the space of a few months, I had the unpleasant duty of catching in my home and killing two mice and one rat. (My manly men were incapacitated by squeamishness and unwarranted rodent compassion. You should have heard the existential angst!) Little by little, cats tentatively reappeared, and I have done my best since then to employ them with bits of leftover fish and chicken.

My son is sure that I will become the local cat lady, inviting into my home dozens of Snowballs and Mittens and Fuzzywuzzys. Nope. Not happening. The best my greedy grimalkins can hope for is a little steady grub, and to be greeted by a classy name.

I think Mama is smiling in Heaven, happy that I take pride in folding towels like she did, that I teach people to peel mushrooms the way she taught me to, and that I name cats with cat-tail long and equally crooked honorifics.

There are goodhearted people in your community who make it their mission-of-kindness to round up cats and cart them off to the ASPCA for neutering and shots. Find them, join them, and keep the rats away while keeping the feline population at a healthy level.

The title is offered without any particular apologies to T.S. Eliot. He's dead; and in any case, he wasn't particularly fond of my kind of cat.

Dancing Visions

29 Tishrei 5778, posted in Cheshvan.

Not a painting of Bryna Kitay, zt"l.  Her dance was sweeter.

It is a beautiful wedding. The bride is, appropriately, breathtakingly beautiful. She reminds me of her mother when I met her, who also took my breath away (and still does). Not merely because God has given her a good face, but because there is authenticity behind her eyes. Her daughter shares that intense and real beauty. (And her father is an accomplished businessman, who at simchas plays the perfect image of the sad/happy clown, still acrobatic over the years.)

The guests touch my heart: they are friends of twenty years and more from the town that reared my sons and their parents in the Jewish faith.

There is so much for which to be grateful tonight.

As I listen to the soulful strains of Im Eshkacheich Yirushalayim -- If I forget Jerusalem -- with closed eyes...

Bryna Leah (aka Beverly) Kitay, a"h, appears in the center of the room. Now I must digress...

I am not a terribly spiritual person. I have had exactly two spiritual dreams in my life. And prior to this experience, I have had exactly two "visions." Only one is relevant to this story:

Many years ago, I was at a Simchat Torah celebration at Congregation Tiferes Yisroel. Rabbi Goldberger was dancing with the Torah, as he did by TY tradition, alone with the Torah, before the group dancing began. The dance was very ritualized, as Rabbi G preserved memory with motion. Details such as a raised hand, a bend of the waist, everything was an echo of a dance of the past. It was told to me that each careful step added to the design of the Ineffable Name of Hashem...

We all knew the steps and the motions, and that they were handed down from Rabbi Goldberger's rebbe.

I closed my eyes...

Suddenly I could see, very clearly, Rabbi Ben Tzion Chaim Shloime Meshulam Zusia Twerski, zt"l,  dancing with Rabbi Menachem Goldberger in the center of the room.

I had never met Rabbi Goldberger's rebbe. I only knew him from photographs. But in that one isolated moment, I felt that I saw him and felt his presence... and that "vision" has stayed with me all these years. There was so much love in that room that evening: the rebbe for one of his dearest talmidim, Rabbi Goldberger for his kehilla and family, our love for him and his remarkable bride, also a talmida of the Rav. The experience has typified for me what it is to be part of a mesorah, a tradition.

Suddenly, at this moment at this wedding, my third vision becomes a new spiritual thread in the tapestry of my Jewish journey.

In Baltimore, at any significant spiritual event, Bryna Kitay could be seen, in her quaint matching hat and suit jacket over a long skirt, arms raised to Heaven, dancing to and for God. Her eyes would be closed, and her expression was one of such sublime peace and openness. The kallah's mother reminds me that Bryna was always the first person in the center of any circle dance, later joined by the ladies around her. "She taught me what circle dancing is about. There's the part about joyous circling with loved ones. And then there's inviting Gd into the dance: bringing down His energy and light into the circle." Bryna left the world in 2016, around the same time of year as this recent TY wedding. I always imagine her dancing in Shemayim for God...

So here I am, at this wedding of these beautiful young people, surrounded by friends who define my family's Jewish roots... and there is Bryna Kitay in the center of the room, eyes closed, arms raised to Shemayim, dancing only for Hashem. Somehow, her presence here adds a layer of shefa and bracha to this marriage of two souls. My heart dances. I long to dance with her, to get her acknowledgment of my presence, but I know this is foolish. Bryna Leah never danced with anyone else except her One-and-Only Partner, in all the years I knew her. If she touched you during the dance, you are blessed. She only had eyes for Him.

Bal'mer BYOB and B BBQ... A good time was had by all.

Yom sheni, 9 Tamuz 5774.

When the world is on fire, nothing is as comforting nor as strangely empowering as surrounding oneself with family.

On Shabbat, we surrounded ourselves with our boys and our girls and our neighbors. There was food and laughter and song and silly, silly games. ("Dani, no one knows why you keep inviting us to play 'Hunger Games.' Of course everyone is going to eliminate you first. Duh. You are the most competitive person on the planet.") For twenty-five or so hours, we didn't think about the Middle East, or about the world.

Today, we gathered our other family, the Four-One-Oh Club, formerly known as Baltimoreans. Most if not all of us are former -- and forever! -- members of Rabbi Menachem and Rebbetzin Bracha Goldberger's Congregation Tiferes Yisroel. Not everyone could make it, but we know your hearts were here with us. There was food. There was laughter. The song was recorded, but was good, nonetheless; and instead of games, we played the game parents and grandparents prefer: catching each other up with what is going on with our amazing children and grandchildren. (How did those little kids suddenly end up parents of six kids???)

Because it's all about the people, here are some of the faces we love. Those who know, know.

Dani had to fight with the Neve Daniel winds while he struggled to make those barbecue grills stay alight. Leave it to the ingenuity of Captain Crunch to solve the problem.

A metal tub used by the Arab workmen for mixing concrete becomes Dani's barbecue windshield, supported by a couple of 30-pound weights. You go, Dani!

Keren Bat Heyn reminds me of one of the great Vermeer paintings in this shot.

Moshe Shaul, making everyone else smile and laugh with his jokes (ALWAYS clean), shares a smile of his own.

Yehudis and Eileen, looking elegant.

Ah, friends. When you love someone, there is such comfort in her presence.

Nechama and Shoshana, so good to see you together in our home!

Yes, we waited too long to feed Nisan...

Son Avi and proud father Alvin

A hug from a kid you watched grow up is good for what ails you.

Tova and Dovid leave smiles wherever they go!

Good to see you again, Moshe! And yes, I'll always be Mrs. E. Don't be scared. That's just the way it is. ;-)

Aaron and Avi would have looked good anyway -- but somehow this shot is just right with the Israeli flag behind them.

Aharon and Feige Rochel ("Just let everyone know that even though Avivah and her family couldn't make it, they are so very grateful for everyone's prayers. And she's doing great!")

Baruch giving me his "Whadaya want from me?" shrug, which comes whenever I aim a camera at him. Just glad to have you here, friend.

Shoshana, Keren, Sandra and Yehudis... how long have we been friends? Ages!

When you invite Jews to a "bring your own beef (or alternative) and beverage barbecue," you get enough food to feed a small army. Which is what happened to the leftovers: they were transported to hungry soldiers. Thanks, Baruch and Avrum!

Joani, somehow I failed to get a shot of you -- but you are there somewhere in Avrum's smile. Thank you so much for joining us!

Hey, Pinchas! Thank you for dropping by and representing your family (some of whom were off dedicating a new community in memory of Eyal zt"l, Gil-ad zt"l, and Naftali zt"l).

A man and his son-in-law

Eileen, Ruti, Sandra, Keren and Feige Rochel

Jerry and Avi

A lovely new friend and fellow writer

Alvin and Avrum

Richard and Moshe Shaul

Richard and Jerry

Brothers and friends and brothers...

Thank you, new friend, for helping to bring back our old friend's smile.

Jerry and Eileen, thank you for inspiring this reunion!

Thank you all for lifting our spirits, for strengthening us with your presence and your love, to get through these trying times. As one of our lovely guests said, "It was nice to spend time with people I understand, people who are all more or less on the same page." In a word: family. May we share better days!

May the time we spent together, listening to each other, sharing with each other, add in some small measure to our cumulative efforts to bring the day when there will be no more sorrow, when there will be only light and joy, gladness and honor... when there will be peace for all human beings.