How will you live in the post-Coronacaust era?

11 Nisan 5780.

Our lovebud tree, struggling bravely to overcome a blight

Locked inside our homes, we have some time on our hands to be introspective. Some people are alone or have only a significant other at home. Others are busy from morning till night trying to entertain and occupy children of various ages. Still, even for busy families, there are moments to reflect.

Funny how little the stuff matters now. When will I wear my watches again? They are tucked into a drawer with the other nonsense that I used to cram into my little purse, such as ID, credit cards, the bus pass... all the formerly-critical "don't leave home without it" flotsam and jetsam. I haven't touched my change purse in weeks.

On the other hand, the lipstick and blush, the pearls and the earrings… I am still making a point to wear those, as the Dearly Beloved still must look at me every day. What does it cost me to make his heart happy with a little color and fru-fru? (And lest I be accused of being sexist or too 1960s, he also is going to the trouble to look charming for me. You kids will do things your way…)

How much clothing does a person need? Certainly not all that I have in closets and cupboards. I'll probably spend this time deleting it from my possession. (Or at least preparing it for deletion. Who is accepting other people’s things these days?)

What angry words, moments of ego, careless jokes have I uttered that didn't need to be shared, and certainly will have no place in a better, fresher, cleaner post-Coronacaust world?

What really matters?

More than 30 years ago, I was in the US army. Cold showers were the rule during basic training. Even now, decades later, I will never, ever take for granted a hot shower.

Less than 30 days ago, I was able to travel about freely with and among other people. I was able to hug my children and grandchildren, record music in a tiny studio with my husband and sons, join together with friends on Shabbat, sit in a café and listen to the chatter of families, sit in a movie theater surrounded by my fellow humans and the smell of popcorn, watch people gathering together at the Kotel to cry and pray for those they love and for redemption... Whenever this ends, I will never, ever take for granted the freedom to be around human beings.

I will remember to appreciate the feeling of sun on my face (without a mask), the sounds of neighborhood children, the little kids in the neighborhood who would surprise me with a hug. I will think carefully before acquiring. What do I really need besides food and beverages to eat and drink, warmth and shelter, something to read, a little paint and music, the company of kind people? There is a lot I can give up to others, because time is of the essence – and fleeting.

When this Coronacaust ends, I hope and pray that those of us who are privileged to survive will treat each other better, without harsh language, with the considerateness born of knowing that everyone has lost someone they loved, that no one has missed out on being affected in one way or another. In this we are all equals. I hope we will strive for cooperation for the greater good rather than fighting for the biggest piece of the pie. 

May we learn whatever we can from this terrible tragedy, and come out of it our very best selves yet.

New Regs Dictate Fashion Choices

8 Nisan 5780.

I don’t usually ask for fashion guidance… but with the new regulations – “You must wear a mask when leaving home. If you do not own an actual mask, a scarf will do.”– I really need advice. (My friend Shannon has Trump masks, Hillary, Iron Man masks, the Hulk… Still thinking about those possibilities…)

I have some options and want your fashion sense. After all, over the years, your comments have caused me to actually match colors and patterns in a way that finally gets compliments, and no doubt gives my dear mother nachas in Heaven. So, tell me your thoughts. The options (unless Shannon persuades me to mask up like the US president or a former presidential candidate, or a superhero) are:

Dig out a pretty scarf combo, that works with the dress...

or that (thank God) never used and probably expired gas mask from years ago.

What’s your advice? Corona fashion is beyond my understanding…

 Okay. Your votes will determine how I go and get some business done before the next set of regulations takes effect. Looking forward to your fashion-conscious wisdom. Mama will be proud.

Photos taken and used with permission by the Dearly Beloved, pretty much the only human I've seen in a couple of weeks.

The Five Crisis Management Languages

27 Adar 5780.

Most of you are familiar with the excellent book by Gary Chapman, The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate. Written in 1992, the book revolutionized how many of us understand the unique language by which our beloved expresses and understands love. If you haven’t read it, I recommend it for enhancing even great relationships. There is nothing that sweetens even the best love affair like understanding what makes your dear one happy and implementing the nuances of his particular way of feeling loved.

During the Time of the Coronavirus/COVID-19 – may it be shorter than anticipated! – I am learning that there are several languages for coping with crisis. Here are five that I have discovered by communicating with friends online:

1.     Facts and figures

2.     Action and routine

3.     Spirituality

4.     Humor

5.     Virtual battle

Susie* has been finding every shred of data she can about the course of this disease. She has read about different countries’ efforts to “flatten the curve” of the rate of infection in order to best treat the sick; she knows how many minutes the virus can survive on a particular object, and she knows how long to wait before she can safely handle anything without gloves. She knows that masks don’t protect people from getting the virus and should be reserved for health care workers and for those infected. She is not going out of her house unless absolutely necessary; she can visually calibrate two meters within a centimeter. And she wants to teach these facts to everyone.

Jennifer’s house has never been cleaner, more organized. She’s up at five, has exercised by six, and is baking or cooking her first new creation by seven. She is staying busy, and the sense of accomplishment raises her above her natural tendency to worry. Since it helps her so much, she is anxious to post recipes and photos to encourage her friends. She isn’t showing off. She really thinks others will gain as much peace from activity as she does.

Edna turns on the music as soon as she rises in the morning, lights a lavender-scented candle, and breathes deeply as she bends into a deep Uttanasana pose, nose to knees, finding her comfort in the flowing motions of yoga. Lena listens to every rabbi she can find on the internet who speaks of the deeper meaning of the pandemic, and recites fervently every recommended prayer and her daily-assigned portion of Tehillim. Each of these women finds strength and comfort in her language of coping and shares warmly with her friends.

Dierdre loves the cute memes and “in your face, Disease!” jokes her friends send, and passes them on as quickly as she can to as many people as she can. After all, laughter is the best medicine, right? Humor has always been her go-to method for dealing with any crisis. She recognizes that she sometimes doesn’t filter the funny… but this is war, isn’t it? Come on, people! Don’t let the terror get you down! And anyway, if she keeps laughing, there isn’t time to cry…

During the frequent battles that keep Israel in a state of tension, Rex distracts himself with war movies. There is a vicarious sense of fighting the bad guys, and in the end of the movies Rex prefers, the good guys defeat evil and save the day. During the pandemic, Rex is watching movies about global contagion and movies where superheroes fly into the fray and turn around what appears to the rest of us to be uncontrollable madness. He may or may not share his movie recommendations with his friends – but they definitely help him to cope with the feeling of helplessness.

Just as in The Five Love Languages, one person may choose to employ more than one of the crisis-management languages.

The point here isn’t to present a psychologically accurate assessment, nor even to give you coping mechanisms. You have your own, dictated to you by your very own crisis-management system. The point is to try to remind you that we all speak different languages. Susie needs facts and figures to give her a sense of power over the crisis. Jennifer needs to stay busy. Edna relies on soulful music and meditation to keep her mind healthy, while Lena prefers prayer and words of wisdom. Deirdre distracts herself by finding whatever scraps of humor she can in the situation. Rex watches movies that are initially immersed in crisis and disaster, but out of which simple human beings become superheroes. There are, no doubt, more coping languages.

The bottom line is that we all find comfort differently. I ask two things of you. First of all, understand that your friend isn’t shallow because she finds in humor what you find in prayer. She just copes differently. Secondly, before you send out that shotgun-blast of funny memes or doomsday data, know your audience. It just takes a bit of pre-send scrolling through her Facebook page. If this one is depressed by knowing exactly how many minutes or hours an object stays contaminated, think twice about sending. Information is good… but you can gently ask her, in your own words, if she’d find that information useful. If she’s an empath, sending her a video of a dying man isn’t needed to keep her at home. She’s already there, feeling intensely his pain, his wife’s tragic prayer, his children’s fear. And if she is wounded by those who see the situation as funny, who seem to be trivializing it with sarcasm – while this is certainly a legitimate way for you to fight the battle against fear and depression – don’t send it to her. She won’t get the joke.

Prayer and words of wisdom are always good but will have little effect on those who don’t speak the language. Share. Don’t inundate.

Be cautious of sending out facts or even seemingly “rabbinically-approved” concoctions that are guaranteed to protect you from contamination. There is so much that even the experts don’t know; but certain things are universally understood at this point. Stay home as much as possible. Keep your distance. Wash your hands.

And in the meantime, let’s remember that we’re all in this together. All of us, more than ever before in our lifetimes. Let’s understand each other as best we can, give each other the benefit of the doubt, and try to speak or at least tolerate each other’s unique coping languages.

*All names are made up. I am not referring to you specifically, love. Everything you have sent to me has been appreciated and either learned from or delightfully distracting. I'm just listening to everyone as best I can. Keep being yourself. You and I – we're doing fine.

Maybe it's time we let the old ways shine.

14 Kislev 5780.

One can criticize old time radio for a lot of things: racism; sexism; excessive smoking and drinking; stereotyping of nearly all groups. In many ways, we've come a long way, baby, to paraphrase an old TV commercial (ironically targeting women to buy cigarettes). But there are other features of old time radio that call me back to the golden oldie airwaves rather than to Netflix, even though those airwaves are synthetically reproduced via the internet: the short, easy to digest stories; the moral messages in nearly every type of story; the beauty of the English; the lack of foul language; the discreet shade of innuendo or intimation covering overt sexuality and violence; the clearer line between Good and Evil.

Advertising and public service announcements (PSAs) surrounding old time radio stories were charming in both their language ("unpleasing breath,") and in their understanding of the country's need to pull together during war time. Every man, woman and child was enjoined during these announcements to support the war effort, not just through purchasing War Bonds, but by a general belt-tightening. The public seemed proud to comply. I can't even imagine how difficult it would be today to persuade people to give up their luxuries for a common cause, much less to conserve their use of necessities. Small wonder our elders were considered the Greatest Generation.

Here's an example of a PSA that was quite common during World War II. A mystery program ended with a reminder to purchase Kolynos Toothpaste for "teeth that make a good impression," relieved of "dingy surface stains... to reveal the natural brilliance of your teeth to add so much to the charm and personality of your smile." And then --

"And this is Mr. Keen with one last word. I've been asked to bring to your attention the important fact that our country is still faced by a critical shortage of tires for civilian use. The tires you have now must last you indefinitely. Do not be misled by announcements that huge quantities of synthetic rubber are being made. They are, but they are required for military use. So do everything you can to make your tires last as long as possible. Drive only when necessary at under 35 miles an hour. Keep your tires properly inflated and inspected. Recap your tires as soon as they need it, and share your car with others. Good night, and thank you all." -- Bennet Kilpack, playing the role of Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, 3 February 1944

We have learned so much, added so much to the world of technology, medicine, philosophy, and in some countries only, the rights of human beings... but we have lost a lot, too.

Sometimes it's worth taking the time to retrace our steps, to listen a little to the old ways, to see what we can, perhaps, recapture of what was good.

Happy 71st birthday, Coach, aka the Major, aka the Dearly Beloved. Thanks for putting up with all those hours of OTR over the years.

The title is a rephrasing of a lovely modern song my sons sing and play well. They are right, and I am also right. Stay tuned for an upcoming recording.

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.

Meta Me Some Old Time Radio

19 Tamuz 5779.

The Narrator, played by David Eastman

Last year, I wrote about the best birthday ever, when my loving children paid money to have me thrown out of an airplane. It really was the best birthday present ever -- until now.

It started as a day like any other day. We decided to visit our kids and grandkids in Modi'in. After a particularly great visit with the small daughters of one of our young couples, we helped see them off to bed, and decided to go for a walk to let the parents rub two or three complete sentences together in private, something all parents of active kids appreciate.

The Dearly Beloved was acting slightly odd (though I'd become used to this after the last couple of months. More later). He was watching the time -- not normal -- and insisted that we make it back to the apartment by 9 PM. Okay, fine...

Dex Ranger, played by Joshua Eastman

We reentered the apartment to shouts of "Surprise!" and "Happy birthday, Ema!" from the crowd of Eastmans. This was extremely surprising, because my birthday isn't for another two months. Better still, the computer was open and facing me, offering not one but two overseas families sending real-time wishes and smiles. I was feeling happy, overwhelmed and confused all at once. But it got better...

For two months, the family was preparing for a blockbuster surprise. (I was relieved to discover that the Dearly Beloved's recent tendency to quickly douse whatever he was doing on his computer whenever I entered the room wasn't due to a sudden fascination with Things He Shouldn't Be Viewing on the Internet, or worse.) Here's the scoop.

My family knows that I love Old Time Radio (OTR). Back in simpler days (mostly before I was born), there was no internet and no television, and families gathered around the radio to be entertained by dramatized stories, often ending with positive moral messages. Hallmarks of such radio plays were the public service announcements and commercials with college-educated English, clever sound effects, and mood-setting organ music woven throughout. Since they were recorded live, the background history is full of behind-the-scenes stories that still make me smile nearly as much as the comedies.

Constable Huxtable, played by Dani Eastman

Of all the stories, my favorites were the murder mysteries. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, variously interpreted by the great actors of the day, offered intriguing puzzles to be solved. Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe gave us hard-boiled detective fiction and some great prose. (See especially The Red Wind with Van Heflin and Gerald Mohr for a taste of artfully-penned stories-for-your-mind.) During my formative teen years, a group called Firesign Theatre produced a delightfully irreverent parody of OTR called Nick Danger, Third Eye. Never as interested in television (which requires sitting still) as in radio, my internal playground was always filled with the sights and sounds and characters from the old classics.This hobby continues even now, as it's much easier to clean a house to audio rather than visual entertainment. Music is for writing. Rabbis' lectures are for erev Shabbat. And OTR stories are for adding immense pleasure to every day.

Back to the future...

The Secretary, played by Daniella Eastman

A couple of months ago, my son Josh sent out to all our sons and daughters-in-love a script for an hour-long radio play called The Day That Time Forgot. (Click on the title to listen to the radio program on YouTube, but only when you have a good hour to spare.) The participants were instructed to send Josh their lines via Whatsapp voice recordings, and they were asked to make an in-costume black and white photo. They did, surprisingly, around exceedingly busy lives, and in total secrecy (which is not easy for such a communicative family. Kudos). Their accents and acting were marvelous! Josh wove the entire collection of disparate recordings together with sound effects, the requisite organ music, and a Firesign Theatre level of humor.

Mrs. Gloria Miles, played by Tova Eastman

Jimmy the Fist, played by Yoni Eastman

Molly Featherhammer, played by Naomi Eastman

Seamus Rajah O'Culty, played by Aryeh Eastman

Momma Lonny Ranger, played by Ayala Eastman

Velvel Gezhunt, played by Sam Bosley

Vladmirova Gezhunt, played by Michelle Bosley

Sterling Shimmers, played by Sima Eastman

Supreme Detective Texas "Dex the Tex" Texas Ranger, played by Avi Eastman

Fun behind-the-scenes facts you can only get from an insider:

• Sam, my only non-Jewish son, got all the good Yiddish lines, and performed them with an expertise borne, no doubt, of something buried deep in his genetic makeup. (His maternal grandfather was Jewish.)
• Tova is from Maryland, with its unique southern-ish accent, while Naomi is from Monsey. The ladies swapped accents for their dramatic performances. Delightful!
• The grandkids act as well as the adults! Who knew?
• The script is loaded with clues and jokes that only family will get, as well as proof that the playwright did a lot of research into OTR! Nice job, artistes!

Now, how can you possibly top this birthday??? Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, brought to you by Rx Brand Cigarettes and Dino Bone Coal!

All photos of the stars are presented in order of appearance in the play to avoid, yet again, that familiar canard that Ema has a favorite child. Her clear favorite child is the old guy who appears last because, as the Sages have taught us, "Aharon, aharon haviv," the last is the most beloved. That's you, Dex the Tex, you big dog, you. Thanks for helping me raise up all them cute pups.

Glossary - Meta: a bit of modern slang-play for the Kantian concept of das Ding an sich, the thing in itself. More clearly, making a radio play about the mystery radio show industry isn't meta. Making a radio mystery play about making a radio mystery play is. Does that help?

Only a Click Away

14 Tamuz 5779.

Through Vacation-Colored Glasses, by Dani

The hardest thing about making aliyah is, of course, being separated from friends and family.

Thanks to technology, we can at least talk inexpensively (and even for free!): Internet phone lines, various forms of "face time," Whatsapp and other instant messaging platforms have replaced long-distance phone calls and email... which long ago replaced handwritten letters for most people. (Disclaimer: I admire those of you who still write letters and postcards. They are beautiful and meaningful, and can be treasured in the special teak-and-ivory box I save for the purpose. But I'm part of the say-it-and-send-it-now crowd, unashamedly.)

Life is busy. Making time to be in touch, especially for those temperamentally of few words, can be challenging. While some of us in the family chatter away on one or another of our various Whatsapp groups, others have been more reticent. We miss them; and while we respect their need for a little less communication, we long to hear their voices.

I'd like to give credit to my far-away (for now) son, Josh, for his brilliant contest that has created a solution for our family.

Unexpected Blossoms, by Sima

Josh knows we are a family of quips and quotations, and that we love a good competition. He designed the "Eastman Pic Challenge" on Whatsapp as a means of enhancing our family communication.

The rules -- at least before each week's evolution -- are fairly simple. Each person can submit up to five photos to the Whatsapp group each week. They can be about anything except family members (and especially kids), because it's no fair using family to sway votes. If the caption is clever, it can increase the points.

Legoscape, by Michelle

Each week's winner gets to choose next week's theme; and while the photographer doesn't have to stick to the theme, more points are available for thematic shots. At the end of the week, everyone gets to vote for first, second and third place (and on heavy-participation weeks, even fourth and fifth place), and an honorable mention. Abba and I frequently cheat here and vote for multiples; but that's the benefit of being old. AHIP: Age Has Its Privileges.

Nostalgic, by Josh

Josh calls himself the Arbitrary Arbitrator, meaning that he gets the final say about the vote tally, and how the rules will change.

We are used to this: Josh declared at the age of five that his life career goal was to be a benevolent dictator. Also, he spent his entire childhood creating amazing board games and role-playing games for his brothers.



All of the brothers changed the rules to games such as Monopoly, Risk, Life... and their friends tolerated and loved the changes in equal measure.

Nature's Nesting Doll, by David

But the Arbitrary Arbitrator arbitrates with the assistance of some fairly sophisticated tech program algorithm... and honestly, we don't care. Somebody is going to win a bottle of something... and will no doubt share. (If he or she lives on the other side of the pond, we'll just have to share virtual l'chayims. Like I said -- we'll work it out.) When the contest ends, Josh plans to make a book of the favored shots for family members to have and to hold. And knowing this gang, there will be future (and of course, modified) Challenges to come.

The Challenge has all of us looking at the world with more attention to detail.

Soft, by Aryeh

We're seeing things around us as we've never seen them, finding visual secrets to share with each other. We're not just using our cell phones to zone out of what's going on around us. We're using them as a means to engage.

Focused, by Ayala

Why So Cirrius?, by Lowenthology

Best of all, the family is communicating at an unprecedented level. Even the quiet ones are participating more than ever before.

There are no politics. There is gentle teasing, but it's all done in good taste. There's a lot of cheerleading.

Since Josh's in-laws are also in the game, we are getting to know them better. (Gosh, they have wonderful senses of humor! They fit right in.)

I'm not sure what I enjoy more: finding out how each of my family members' minds work, how they see the world around them -- or that they are sharing with each other at an unprecedented level.

Way to go, Josh.

Butterfly Flowers, by Abba

If Life's a Beach, I'll Take It, by Tova

The Ever-Flowing Circle of Life, by Naomi

If you're looking for a way to enhance long-distance family or old friend communication that is not taxing but fun, I recommend your own Whatsapp Pic Challenge.