Taking the words from my mouth, Twisting them, stretching them, turning them round and round, Negating their true meaning, as it was meant to be heard, You hear what you want without really listening.
The thing about work is that it isn’t fun. If it were, it would be called play. Most people grumble about going to work, and look forward to their time-off – especially when it is paid. And yet, polls show that most people, given the choice, would prefer to work. It’s when we get to the office that we begin to moan and groan. What’s the point in that? If we spend the majority of our waking hours at work, we might as well enjoy it! Here are some ways we can accomplish that.
Last month, I had the privilege - and I do mean privilege – of attending an event at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in Toronto hosted by the Canadian Friends of Machon Lev, the Jerusalem College of Technology (JCT), at which an honorary degree was bestowed on John Baird, Canada’s Foreign Affairs Minister.
Last month we dealt with the building of the Lloyd Street Synagogue, the first synagogue to be built in Maryland. This month we look at how the building became a church, then again an Orthodox Synagogue, and finally a historic site.
Picture this; Mr. Smith is driving down on the Brooklyn Bridge, eager to get to work on time. At the corner of his eye, something flashes. He turns to look at an electric billboard. BOOM…CRASH…BANG… he’s been hit. That billboard took more than his attention - it took his life.
Imagine, sitting through nine classes each day, not understanding the material being taught, and failing many subjects. This would be a terrible school experience.
The blade of the penknife sliced cleanly into my thumb and a thin stream of crimson blood appeared immediately, getting thicker by the second. I dropped the penknife onto my lap and reached for the green hem of my school skirt. I pressed it tightly against my thumb. Only then did I glance up at Sister Giovanna who was standing, as usual, slightly to the right of the black board. I raised my hand and hoped that she would call on me soon.
They say there’s no bigger nightmare than starting to go out / You’re playing emotional mind games that involve another’s feelings, no doubt / Your hopes atop a roller coaster, but soon to be set in loops / Where you’ll have to make good conversation again, over your cream-of-broccoli soup.
I take my usual spot the one by the door and I let out a sigh cuz I’ve seen this scene before.
The eyes crawl down my spine. The eyes examine the bumps and ghost-like skin. Proceeding to turn around, our eyes meet. The stranger looks down.
Throughout the long dark night of our exile, when we found ourselves at the precarious "mercy" of the inhabitants of the lands we were residing in, each and every Jewish community made it their utmost priority to rescue any man, woman or child who had the misfortune to be kidnapped, captured or unjustly thrown in prison. Whether these unfortunate souls were being held by bandits, landlords or greedy officials eager for ransom money, every effort was made to free them.
On the twenty-fifth day of the month of Kislev, over twenty-one hundred years ago, the Temple in Jerusalem was rededicated after it was wrenched from the hands of the defiling Greeks. Thus ended a war no one planned or even dreamed could happen.
Unless you are one of the lucky few who were born with picture perfect hair immune to frizz and flyaway's, you have got a few curly hair problems - just like me.
I still don’t cross the street on the corner of West End Avenue. Just looking at that intersection causes a chill to run down my spine, and my thoughts suddenly wander back to November 22, 2011.
Oh, Chanukah! Chanukah, the festival of lights and the powerful story of the unlikely military victory of the Maccabees. One lesson we’re able to glean from the Maccabees is the importance of doing just a little bit more then you think you are capable of. As we all know, the Maccabees were quite aware that taking on the mighty Greek army was a suicide campaign. Yet, they succeeded.
Welcome to “You’re Asking Me?” the column where people are basically saying, “This guy doesn’t know me at all. Let me ask him for advice.”
A child, who can’t swim, jumps into the deep end of the swimming pool. A man chokes on his food while eating in a restaurant. A friend goes into shock. A woman faints. All of these scenarios share common ground. They all include a victim who is lacking oxygen. People need to know what to do in these emergency situations.
I found these sleek looking shot glasses in a number of stores. Lined up neatly, they can create simple, yet striking (and certainly sweet) centerpieces for your Chanukah parties. Here is one colorful suggestion. (Tip: When purchasing the shot glasses, stick with something simple. The simpler the glass, the more dramatic the projects will look)
I am writing this column as Hurricane Sandy is barreling through the greater New York area, after having sorted a load of clean laundry by the light of a group of yahrtzeit candles and having washed my supper dishes with the aid of a clip on barbeque lamp. My electricity went out almost four hours ago and thoughts of what I did right and what I did wrong in preparation for a one of a kind storm that ironically, bears my name are still fresh in my mind.
Chaos - that is how the world is described at its inception in the book of Beraishis (Genesis). Confusion. A lack of clarity and boundaries. Or, as I teach my kindergartners, "a mishmash".
Chanukah is just about upon us and Jews across the planet are looking forward to family gatherings, delicious food (you can’t feel too guilty eating oily latkes and high carb donuts on the chag – hey, it’s practically a mitzvah to do so); giving and receiving gifts and in general celebrating our survival – our spiritual continuance as God-fearing Jews. (Our physical survival is an event we acknowledge on Purim.)
While it is not known precisely when Jews first settled in Baltimore, we do know that five Jewish men and their families settled there during the 1770s. However, it was not until the autumn of 1829 that Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, whose Hebrew name was Nidchei Yisroel (Dispersed of Israel), was founded. This was the only Jewish congregation in the state of Maryland at the time, and it was referred to by many as the “Stadt Shul.”
A rose that I picked from our garden to enhance the beauty of our sukkah is so exquisite that visitors remarked that they didn’t realize it was “real” until they noticed the water in the vase.
I quit my full-time job eight months ago without another one to fall back on. In hindsight, it wasn’t one of my better decisions, but it was time for me to move forward. I was in a position that never quite suited me – like an ill-fitting pair of shoes that’s one size too small and rubs across the toes. Sure, a nagging thought called a recession cropped up from time-to-time before I resigned, but I was confident I would only be on the market for a few weeks, max. Armed with a new LinkedIn profile and a heaping dose of faith, I bid farewell to my boss and colleagues of six years to embark on my new journey.