L'Shana Tova, Muthas

 And so it's Rosh Hashanah...and what have you done? Yes, the big day is upon us, and I await word from my guilter in chief about leaving for services.

My parents weren't religious, and I never attended services as a child, and then as a freshman at UM I met Eric, and his family invited me along. We went to Temple Beth Am, then the richest congregation around, and now Ritz Carlton level. Eric's family were from the po side of the tracks (actually US 1 -- the rich lived East; the middle class lived West) and I still recall something that occurred that soured me on the place well, forever.

I got up to get some water, and a pretty college girl, my age, came up to me and introduced herself -- was I new in town? I told her I was a freshman at UM, and was a guest of Eric's family. She said "Oh," and walked away -- since I wasn't a guest of someone named Braman, or Miller, or Adler... Eh -- what are ya gonna do?

Anyway, I went to services sporadically during college -- sometimes Hillel, and then after I met fellow non religious Jew Wifey, and we had a very bad experience with a Rabbi named Mark Kram (he lured us back to the fold and then dropped our wedding ceremony days before for a free trip to Israel), we were done with services.

And then I met Yossi, and he truly restored my Yiddishkeit. I attended services, first in the living room of our rental house, then in a storefront at College Park, and finally the congregation. Norman was kind enough to invite me to his place, too, Beth David, for a Kol Nidre or two.

But honestly -- I never connected. I don't know Hebrew, and I discovered, over the past 6 or so years, online services, where I DO pay attention, and pray for real, and walk outside to G-d's natural world. And so it was. Until...

We helped build the new Chabad of Kendall Center, and this is the first year of services. Yossi texted me -- please come. I retorted that maybe I was to be like Moses -- help lead to the Promised Land, but never actually enter. He appreciated my biblical reference, but still asked I go. I passively aggresseved my way away.

Until...Paul called. He succombed to the Rabbi's entreaties, and if he could drive down all the way from Aventorture, I could drive 15 minutes to go, too. I was out of excuses, and so I've agreed.

We'll attend at 930-1130, and then retire to Roasters for some soul food. Wifey and I have to leave around 3 for dinner with the grandboys -- an Italian place -- D1 is calling the night Rosh A Pasta.

D2 is getting a happy procedure today, and will be worn out, so the plan is to bring dinner to her and Jonathan -- and maybe a L'Chaim with him for the new year, 5786, I believe.

Apparently the new mehitza, the wall that separates the sexes in the Orthodox shul, is less opaque than the past one, so that's good -- my mind won't wander to Italian films of the 70s wondering what's on the other side.

And I will thank the Big Man -- a lot -- for my manifold blessings, and for this to be a sweet new year even in these times of rough seas.

Such is humanity -- a huge ("yuuuge, Wifey would pronounce it") pendulum. Maybe a swing back to nicer behavior. That would be grand...