During the Worst of Times, the Best of Times: Live Like You Were Dying

On the non-Jewish calendar, today is my 61st birthday.

Last week was the saddest of times. The 45-year-old father of four, Ari Fuld, Hy"d, was murdered. While grocery shopping. For being a Jew in the Holy Land. I cried a lot during Yom Kippur, for a young widow and four orphans. I cried for a Jewish people who had lost a hero, a man whose passion for Israel, for the Jewish people, for Zionism, for teaching Torah, was unquenchable and inspirational to countless people around the world. He was also a teacher of self-defense to men, women, and children. And my heart broke for them: if the Lion of Zion could be taken down, who couldn't be? Who could feel safe at a shopping center ostensibly designed to show the world that coexistence is possible, when some shoppers believe that it's okay to stab a man in the back?

But from the little that I personally knew of Ari, I believe the best tribute I can give him is to continue living. In Israel. Proudly Jewish. Proudly Zionist.

My sons arranged for the best birthday present I have ever received, and a wonderful tribute to LIFE. They took me skydiving.

This was actually the bachelor party for my son that was postponed due to weather. (He's been married for just over two years. Spoiler alert: marrying her was a great idea.) Dani told his buddies that this was the day to give it another go, and that they'd have one more attendee. While none of my other sons could participate due to the demands of work, they paid for my ticket, sent supportive comments throughout the day, and cheered at the end as if Moms had climbed Everest.

I had a great crew, including my youngest son and my Dearly Beloved (who chose to play the role of ground crew, since he doesn't believe in jumping out of moving vehicles at 11,000 feet in the air). One a kid I've known since he was born. Another, my son's brother-in-law. The last member of the crew is one of our star football players, whom I will miss very much. Until he can't handle the sidelines any more...)

L-R: Gideon Reis, Dani Eastman, Ruti Eastman, Avi Eastman, Avi Schamroth, Avrami Farkas

The flight crew, geared up.

Paradive in Haifa is staffed with people who clearly love their work. First, young ladies with great senses of humor had us fill out the usual "if you die or are badly injured, don't blame us" legal paperwork. (All jesting aside, they really are careful to make sure you are not jumping into the deep end, so to speak, without knowing the dangers.) Then they showed us a promotional/instructional video. There was constant briefing to be sure we knew what to do and when to do it, and what not to do. The instructors/guides were calm and patient, and fun.

My guide was a very respectful fellow named Arnon. He was a great teacher, giving information and encouragement as needed. He taught me how to twirl the parachute so that it was like a wonderful aeronautical waltz. We had a very pleasant flight over the teal-blue of the Mediterranean Sea. Arnon didn't seem to mind when I chattered joyfully about the amazing world of beauty God has created for us to enjoy.

Paradive does a very cool thing for the spectators (in this case, Team Avi): they post the parachute colors of each participant, thus allowing the spotters on the ground to get some good aerial shots.

Hey, Avrami! Lookin' good!

Howdy, Avi S. Smile for your mom and dad.

Roger, Haifa. The Ema has landed.

These guys look all Top Gun now, don't they?

There is simply nothing as sweet as benship*.

We all discussed post-experience how we felt. What were you feeling when you jumped out of the plane? Which did you like better: the free-fall or floating under the open parachute? (I couldn't decide. Like steak and red wine, each has its contribution to the total adventure.) Were you scared? How did you handle the moment the chute opened? Would you do it again? (If money were no object, a few of us at least would have gotten back in line.) "I think I'm seeing the fifteen-year-old mom," said Dani, with a grin.

None of us could stop smiling (except for the few moments during which we composed the #toocoolforwords gangsta post-flight photo). I'm still grinning.

#thugflight

You can do a lot of things on your 61st birthday.

You can hang out with your best friend.

You can paint your nails red. (I recommend it.)









You can also go skydiving. Now I need to go 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Manchu...

With the best friend, best ground crew, best cheerleader God ever created, puh-puh-puh. (Caryn and Inbar, take note: your earrings, your necklace. Ruti's tee shirt courtesy of the Paratroopers branch of the IDF.)

*Benship - a Ruti-generated word for that unique and special relationship you can only have with your adult children

Moms - not a typo. One of my frighteningly large array of nicknames.

The title (to those for whom it isn't apparent) is a mashup of  Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities (from 1859) and Tim McGraw's song released in 2004, just to display the broad palette of inspiration out there in history.

What's Your Favorite Day of the Week?

Yom shishi, 7 Shevat 5777.

I am sure that in religious Jewish circles, the "correct" answer to the question of favorite day of the week is the holy Shabbat. The Sabbath certainly is a precious day, filled with good food, dedicated time with friends and family, time to read actual paper books, time for communing with oneself and with one's God. But I am not quite at the madraiga to put Shabbat first.

My very favorite day of the week is Friday, yom shishi (the sixth day) in Hebrew. Our Torah seems to skillfully combine the best of all human worlds for me on this day. While it's about preparing for our holiest day of the week, everything I love about being a physical human being is put toward this important task.

I will make a caveat here, for the sake of readers with small children. When I was a full-time mommy, I do not think that Erev Shabbat was my favorite day. It was a day when I had to feed lots of people who all wanted (or hated) different things, and who were intent on making messes faster than I could clean them up. My great goal on Friday was to NOT deserve going to Hell some time during the day for screaming at those of Hashem's precious children in my care. I usually failed. But this post is about Retired me, not Mommy me.

It would be untrue to say that I love cleaning. It's pretty far down on my list of fun activities. But what I do love is making everything mesudar -- organized, in its place, tidy -- for Shabbat. It gives me pleasure to wash all of the dishes and put them away, clearing the counters and tables, making them ready for their next "performance." I love to see the floor clean after a good sweeping and mopping, knowing that by candle-lighting time, it will say to me if not to the world that Ruti has it together.

Cooking for Shabbat is also a fulfilling activity for me. I get to take raw stuff created by God and put it together in new and interesting ways, the height of creative work (even above writing and painting and playing music) for me. And I know that each dish will say "I love you and care about what you like" to someone in my family.

There are special errands and rituals for Friday: my walk to collect the mail and the Torah Tidbits weekly magazine; recycling all of the various detritus of the week; shopping for the last minute items. The exchange of "boker tov" and "boker ohr" and "Shabbat shalom" with everyone I pass simply puts the frame around a lovely and purposeful walk throughout my yishuv.

There is a peace in this day that exists in no other: the peace of creating, while knowing that it is in the service of the day designated as the holiest day of the week.

I give myself and all of us the blessing that we can find the harmony of creativity in the service of something higher. I further bless young friends and family with little ones and demanding jobs that they will enjoy their days -- even the crazy ones! -- for long, healthy years, and that they will remember that there are wonderful things to look forward to, even after the kids have grown up and moved away.

What's your favorite day of the week, and why?


Glossary:

Madraiga: level
Erev Shabbat: Friday, the day leading up to the Sabbath
Boker tov: good morning
Boker ohr: literally "morning light," used as a response to boker tov
Yishuv: community, small town