Fine Arts Friday: Lost and Found Edition

Warning: The following post may exceed the recommended daily allowance for maternal boasting. Proceed at your own risk.

A Shiputzim daughter recently had to do a project for her Mishnah class.

Yes, her Mishnah class.

Note that such a concept certainly didn’t exist in my out-of-town Bais Yaakov-wannabe school.

In fact, the word “Mishnah” never appeared anywhere near our course schedule.

I mean, sure, we did learn a bit of Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers)here and there – albeit it mostly on a rather superficial level.

But it was clearly understood that this was the one exception to the hard-and-fast rule that girls. don’t. learn. Mishnah. Period.

After all, it could, um, lead to mixed dancing, which could lead to [gasp] something even worse: learning Gemara…

In contrast, the aforementioned Shiputzim daughter is currently studying Masechet Bava Metzia and chose to do her project on the second mishnah of the second perek, which discusses the mitzvah of hashavat aveidah (returning lost property) and includes a list of items that the finder must declare.

As always, please feel free to click on the pictures for a much better view:

Several close-ups of some of the details:

If the poster’s style looks vaguely familiar, it’s because it was produced in the same studio as last year’s Makat Dam project, which, coincidentally, is very appropriate for this week – i.e. Parshat VaEra.

!שבת שלום ומבורך

Erev Rosh Hashanah 5774

.תכלה שנה וקללותיה, תחל שנה וברכותיה
Let the [old] year and its curses come to an end; let the [new] year and its blessings begin.

As you may recall, every year my mother prepares a very special family calendar. Here are the Shiputzim kids’ beautiful contributions to the 5774 edition:

October 2013 (roughly corresponding to Cheshvan 5774)

August 2014 (roughly corresponding to Av 5774)

As always, please be sure to click on the pictures for a much better view.

לשנה טובה תכתבו ותחתמו לאלתר לחיים טובים ולשלום!

May you have a wonderful, happy, healthy, prosperous, and sweet new year!

Euphonic Friday: Erev Tu B’Shvat Edition

In an ideal world, Friday Erev Tu B’Shvat would be a perfect time to post a rendition of the classic HaShkediyah Porachat. (A [particularly awkward] English translation is available here.)

But unfortunately, here in TRLEOOB*, our shkediyah (=almond tree) has always been a bit of a, ahem, late bloomer.

In fact, as you can see in the following picture, it doesn’t yet have a single flower:

As usual, feel free to click on the picture for a better view.

And so, it will be necessary to look elsewhere for today’s edition of “Euphonic Friday”.

As you may recall, it’s become somewhat of a tradition here on Our Shiputzim to post Shimi Tavori’s Mizrachi favorite Moshe this time of year, when the weekly Torah readings revolve around the Exodus from Egypt.

But this year, I think we’ll take it up a notch and post not one but - count ‘em! – two versions of this song:

First, the original version, complete with backup dancers (dressed relatively modestly – at least by today’s standards) shimmying (no pun intended…) incongruously to a song about Moshe Rabbeinu:

And second, a more recent, less grainy but also far less amusing :-)version (which also includes “Kinor David”):

!שבת שלום וט”ו בשבט שמח

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Dig, dig, dig, dig your shovel deep

Note: If you’re looking for an intelligent analysis of yesterday’s shakeup of Israel’s political landscape, you’ve come to the wrong place. (I suggest you check out Jameel’s list of winners and losers instead.) Because the only thing I have to say on the subject is that it’s quite disappointing. I mean, here in TRLEOOB*, we were really looking forward to having a day off… :-)

***

It was Monday, the second day of Rosh Chodesh Iyar, and I was busy patting myself on the back over a job well done.

You see, the Iyar Challenge was underway, and by all indications, it was going to be a huge success.

I had calculated the optimal time to do laundry during the week; each of the kids knew which shirt to wear each day; and I had even managed to convince a certain young man of my acquaintance not to wear a certain shirt from his collection…

And then… [cue: dramatic music] one of the Shiputzim daughters (henceforth, OOTSD) walked in the door.

She needed a few things for her school’s upcoming Yom HaZikaron/Yom HaAtzma’ut ceremony, she told me.

Still deep in the throes of congratulating myself, I wasn’t concerned.

“Bring it on!” I may even have said.

And so she did…

Her class was dramatizing Yoram Taharlev’s “Ein Kvar Derech Chazarah” (“No Way Back Anymore”):

The lyrics are available here.

OOTSD was supposed to dress up as one of the Bilu’im, and her costume had to include a checked shirt, a straw hat or a kova tembel, and a farming or work tool.

Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so confident anymore…

Because while we had no trouble finding a suitable shirt and hat, I had no idea how to approach the third item on the list.

After all, we’re not exactly the kind of family that just happens to have spare agricultural implements lying around.

Especially since not just ANY agricultural implement would do. It couldn’t be valuable, because OOTSD was taking it to school. It couldn’t be too heavy, because she was going to be dancing with it.

And, most importantly, it had to pass muster with OOTSD’s discriminating teenage sister…

But fortunately, YZG – aka He Who Successfully Built a Model of the Mizbei’ach in Just a Few Hours – once again stepped in and saved the day.

After grabbing a cardboard tube and some heavy duty aluminum foil, he produced this:

Amazingly, not only did the aforementioned teenage sister approve, but when OOTSD brought the shovel to school, her friends said that it was “magniv” (loosely, cool).

Which, by all accounts, is very high praise indeed…

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Crowning Glory

Hey, parents!

It’s nearly midnight. Do you know where your high school seniors are?

I ask, because if it’s on or about Rosh Chodesh Adar, chances are said 12th graders are off somewhere working on the all-important Hachtarah.

What’s a Hachtarah, you ask?

Well, to answer that, I suppose we should consult that scholarly classic, namely, The Official Our Shiputzim Adar Lexicon (2010), which includes the following definition:

Hachtarah (הכתרה) - Literally, coronation or inauguration. Basically an elaborate Purim shpiel, but also the event at which the Rav or Rabbanit Purim is crowned.  In most schools, this is considered to be the highlight of the senior year.

Now, far be it from me, a mere blogger, to argue with such an authoritative and well-regarded reference work as the aforementioned Adar Lexicon, but although this definition is technically correct, I’m not sure that it fully conveys the Hachtarah’s magnitude or significance.

That is, I believe that when the lexicon was originally published, the author was then the mother of a then-yeshiva high school senior.

In other words, the author obviously had no firsthand experience with a Hachtarah in an ulpanah, and as a result, she clearly did not realize that in an ulpanah, the Hachtarah is less “elaborate Purim shpiel” and more what is referred to in Orthodox Jewish girls’ high schools in the States (or in the New York area, anyway) as the “Production.”

In my own quaint, out-of-town school, we called it simply a play or a musical – without a capital letter…

Needless to say, a major theatrical event such as the Hachtarah requires weeks and weeks of preparation - including writing scripts, rehearsing scenes, building sets, sewing costumes, choreographing dances, and so on.

Which, in educational terms, translates to almost no classes from Rosh Chodesh Shvat, countless all-nighters, exhausted girls, and bemused parents.

And of course all this happens just as the girls are interviewing for Sherut Leumi and even taking one or two of the Bagruyot.

But, as they say, the show must go on, and so, we here at Our Shiputzim extend our best wishes to all the performers and eagerly look forward to what promises to be a great night!

Happy Adar!

Moshe: Take 2

Last year, in honor of Parshat Shmot, I posted Shimi Tavori’s classic song “Moshe” - winner of the Mizrachi Song Festival and an old family favorite.

But apparently, since then, YouTube removed the song, and so by special request from TSG, here’s another version of the same song from the same song festival:

Although the picture is definitely grainier than last year’s version, the advantage of this one is that it has the Hebrew lyrics.

And I still stand by what I wrote last year:

“…[T]his video cracks me up.

“After all, the sight of girls shimmying [Ed. note: No pun intended… :-)] incongruously to a song about the Burning Bush, Matan Torah, and other highlights of Moshe Rabbeinu’s life is very, very funny…”

Bobi a”h

Today marks the yahrzeit of my dear grandmother z”l, a Holocaust survivor originally from Kovno, Lithuania.

As the oldest grandchild, I was privileged to enjoy a unique and close relationship with her, and from the time I was a baby and throughout high school, college, and beyond, her house was always my second home.

In fact, Bobi a”h (we spelled it “Bobi” – even though we pronounced it “Bubby”) played a major role in every stage of my life, and thus, there’s so much I could write about her.

I could tell you that she was the world’s best cook (as I’ve noted elsewhere on this blog); how she would sew gorgeous clothes for me; and how she taught me to drive.

I could describe our countless shopping expeditions; how she danced at our wedding; how she gave me cooking tips when I was a young bride; and – most of all - how she was always available to talk, to listen and to encourage.

But for now, I’ll suffice with three things that come to mind whenever I think about Bobi z”l.

1) First, I recall her love for Israel.

She came from a religious-Zionist (aka “Mizrachi”, as it was called in those days) family, and as a girl, she attended a Hebrew-language gymnasiah. (Whenever she saw her Israeli grandchildren and great-children doing their homework, she would say with a smile, “I also studied math in Hebrew!”)

After the war, she yearned to move to Eretz Yisrael. But since she was pregnant, my Zaidy a”h felt that it would be too dangerous for her to sail on a Ha’apalah ship and risk being detained by the British in Cyprus.

And in every US election, she would always make sure to vote for the candidate who was "good for Israel."

2) Second, I remember how much she treasured her beloved family.

Her kibbud em (honor for her mother) was legendary. Her marriage was a true partnership and a model of shalom bayit.

And, as far as she was concerned, nobody was more amazing, more wonderful or more perfect than any of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. No matter what we all did, she was convinced that there was no one better.

Her greatest joy was having any of us come for a visit, and she would spend weeks in advance cooking, baking, and planning elaborate menus for us.

3) The third thing about Bobi  a”h that always stays with me is her quiet, inner fortitude.

It was this strength that enabled her to survive the war’s horrors - young and on her own.

It was this strength that allowed her to leave her mother (after they had finally been reunited at the war’s end) and move with my Zaidy a”h to the US - a strange country, with a foreign culture and a foreign language.

It was this strength that transformed her – within an astonishingly short period of time - from a right-off-the-boat new immigrant to someone who would read English books for pleasure; who was the best-dressed woman wherever she went; and who knew all the latest American styles and fashions.

And yet, at the same time, it was due to this strength that when it came to important values and principles, she refused to compromise.

No matter that the “American” relatives insisted that public school was the “correct” choice. Bobi’s kids went to the local Jewish day school and to yeshivot, and Bobi and Zaidy were pillars of their Young Israel community.

And finally, it was this inner fortitude and determination that helped her do what she needed to do as a relatively young widow – such as going out to work (a difficult step for someone of her generation) and moving twice to a new state.

It was therefore an incredible honor, privilege, and comfort that a mere two weeks after Bobi a”h passed away, I gave birth to her oldest namesake yblt”a.

May all our children continue to emulate and learn from their special great-grandmother z”l.

.יהי זכרה ברוך

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*This post was based on a speech I gave in honor of Bobi’s Shloshim.

Oxymoronic sur la pointe

Last week, the female members of the Shiputzim family were privileged to watch the resident ballerina perform in her ballet recital.

Since then, the resident ballerina’s sister has been determined to leave her own mark on the dance world.

This afternoon, she apparently made a breakthrough.

“Look at me!” she cried, as she balanced herself on her sandals’ soles, which were bent backwards. “I can exactly almost stand on my toes…”

They did the ooltra…

Shavua tov!

Yes, I’m still here. It’s just that the bar mitzvah is this coming Shabbat IY”H, and so things are understandably busy here in TRLEOOB.

And on a related note, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my real-life friend and commenter MB and her family for hosting us for the now-traditional Meal on the Shabbat Before the Simcha (or, in Our Shiputzim-speak, the MOTSBTS). May our families continue to share many, many future smachot!

As some of you know, the Shiputzim children are members of Ariel* – rather than Bnei Akiva. (Ariel uses the same names as Bnei Akiva does – hence, last week’s HaGevurah post.)

Anyway, this Shabbat was Shabbat Irgun for the girls. (This coming Shabbat – yes, the Shabbat of the bar mitzvah! – will IY”H be the boys’ Shabbat Irgun.)

The reason I mention this is to reassure our loyal readers that yes, there was an ooltra. And the truth is that – all kidding aside – the dances were, as always, quite beautiful.

In fact, the girls introduced a new twist to the ooltra dance. Usually, such a dance is done to fast, up-beat music. However, this time, they did something completely different.

This shevet’s (age group) theme was “Captives and MIAs”. After showing a short slide show about the Israeli MIAs, the girls did a slow ooltra to Boaz Sharabi’s haunting “K’she’tavo”, a song about Ron Arad. The entire audience agreed that dancing in the dark was a moving and fitting tribute to the MIAs.

And in conclusion, mazal tov to our resident HaGevurah member on the new name. (Admit it – the name is starting to grow on you, isn’t it? )

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* That is – some of the Shiputzim children are Ariel members. Others are adherents of what is euphemistically known as “Iyov” (aleph,yud,vav,vet – an acronym for אשרי יושבי ביתך – literally, “Praiseworthy are those who dwell in Your House”) – i.e. they prefer to stay home.

Ooltra cool

A fairly common feature of Israeli children's hofa’ot (performances) is the way overused fresh and original ultraviolet light.

Typically, the young performers don black clothes and put white socks on their hands and shoeless feet. Upon occasion, the kids will then add white belts or scarves to complete the look.

The overhead lights are turned off, and – with the “purple light” shining on the stage – the captive audience proud and loving parents watch as disembodied white blobs dance in unison before them.

Over the years, I’ve been privileged to see countless renditions of this routine - especially in honor of Chodesh Irgun and also at Chanukah parties in gan.

But it was only today that I learned that an ultraviolet light is known as an ooltra in Hebrew.

And what about the dance itself? According to one of my favorite Heblish-speakers, it’s referred to as “doing an ooltra.” (Sample sentence: “For our rikud (dance), we’re going to do an ooltra.”)

You know you’re getting older when…

…You’re invited to weddings as a friend of the parents rather than as a friend of the young couple.

Over the past year or two, YZG and I seem to have made that transition, which means that I now often find myself choosing to dance in what my friends and I jokingly refer to as “the old ladies’ circle” at weddings. After all, we’re guests of the bride or groom’s mother, and she’s most likely to be found in that, er, “more mature” circle.

However, there are times when I prefer to remain in the faster, regular circle.

And that’s when I feel really old.

You see, at many some weddings, there are groups of young girls who apparently believe that dancing together with “senior citizens” (read: anyone over age 25) is demeaning and degrading.

As soon as they discover that members of the older generation actually know the steps to the dance (gasp!), the young girls will either: (a) switch to an even more complex dance, or (b) break away and form a new circle.

But happily, not everyone is like that. For instance, during the second (and generally more intricate) dancing set at a recent wedding, I realized that I vaguely recognized a certain dance. As I stood at the side and tried to recall the precise steps, a young 20-something came over and started announcing the steps. (“Step, step, kick, back,” etc.)

Unfortunately, we were separated by the dance’s movements before I had a chance to thank her, and I didn’t see her afterwards.

So, Anonymous Dark Haired Girl – on the off chance that you read this blog – thank you!

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And on a related note, thank you also to Leora, who generously presented me with a very sweet award. (I’ll have to wait for our CTO – who also happens to be the Chief of Photography – to help me add the logo.) Leora’s blog, which is one of my favorites, is the place to go for her beautiful artwork and photographs – as well as thoughtful and sensitive posts on a wide range of topics. Check it out!