Please Light a Menorah

On Thursday, December 7^th, 2023, as the sun sets, the eight-day Holiday of Chanukah will begin. It is a special time of year that Jews across the globe look forward to, but this year, many of us are scared, discouraged, or in some cases, not allowed, to celebrate publicly.

There are many ways I could describe Chanukah – what it is, and what it represents. It is a festival of light. It is a celebration of a victory over evil, and it’s also the realization of a miracle. The story dates back to ancient Israel, almost 2,200 years ago, when Jewish forces defeated the Seleucid King Antiochus IV. Antiochus’ army tried to desecrate the Temple in Jerusalem, and as the story goes, when Jewish forces returned to the Temple, they renewed and restored it. They found only enough oil to light the Temple lamps for one night, but the oil lasted long enough to provide light for eight nights.

Since then, Jews in Israel, and around the world, celebrate this joyous story. And in dark times, we need to celebrate, with light, more than ever.

Many religions and cultures celebrate a festival of lights at this time of year. For those of us who live in the northern hemisphere, we are approaching the longest, darkest days of the year, and we gather together to bring light to the darkness. Christmas trees are covered in beautiful lights and homes are lit up with bright colours. For Diwali, people place clay lamps outside their homes to symbolize the inner light that protects from spiritual darkness.

And Chanukah? A Menorah, also known as a Chanukiah, is lit, with a new candle added each night until the nine-branch candelabra glows bright on the eighth night. It is traditional to place the Menorah in the home’s window, to share its warmth and light with the community.

My husband said to me yesterday, “I don’t feel safe placing our Menorah in our front window this year.” Every year, since we got married, we have lit the same Menorah, and placed it in our front window. Whether we lived in France, New York or Toronto, no matter who we celebrated with, we lit, and sang, beside the window.

But my husband, and Jews around the world, are terrified to do that this year. Hours after my husband shared his fear with me, I saw a Facebook post from an American friend about Project Menorah, started by a Jewish man named Adam Kulbersh.

Here’s what Adam wrote, “Project Menorah is a grassroots movement encouraging non-Jews to place a Menorah, along with their other decorations, in their windows this December in fellowship with Jewish friends and neighbors who might otherwise not feel safe to do so. Participants are asked to share photos of their Hanukkah decorations on social media with the hashtags #onlyloveliveshere #projectmenorah.”

Jews are feeling isolated right now, and we need our non-Jewish friends more than ever. No matter your religion, nationality, ethnicity or race, it is never okay to attack another person because of their religion, nationality, ethnicity or race. Putting a Menorah in your window tells us that you are standing up against hate.

But there’s more. While it is traditional to place a lit Menorah in the window, Jews also join together, as a community, to light the Menorah throughout Chanukah. Some people celebrate at parties, or they stand side by side with non-Jews, in public spaces, to light a large candelabra. It is perfectly normal at this time of year to see a Menorah at city hall, in parks or large public squares. Remember, a central part of Chanukah is to bring light to the world.

So, I was further upset, last night, when my brother-in-law, who was born and raised in Moncton, New Brunswick, and owns a home there, sent me an article from CBC. This was the headline, “Menorah won’t be displayed outside Moncton city hall for first time in 20 years.” City council, in this small city in eastern Canada, decided, behind closed doors, according to the mayor, that, “City hall should be neutral as far as religion is concerned.”

A Menorah brings light and joy to all who see it. The public lighting of a Menorah is a way that a community, Jews and non-Jews, can come together to celebrate tolerance and the values we share as human beings. I don’t know what dark forces came over the city council of Moncton, but they should feel ashamed.

I don’t always ask you to take action when I write, but today, I’m asking for a few small favours:

Please, Light a Menorah

No matter what you celebrate, or how you celebrate, join Jews around the world from Thursday, December 7^thto Thursday, December 14^th, to light a Menorah, and place it in your window. Or, if you don’t have one, follow these steps, recommended by the Project Menorah team. You can also reach out to a Jewish friend and light the Menorah with them one night.

Write to the Mayor of Moncton

We need to let the Mayor of Moncton know that what she did is not okay. Email Mayor Dawn Arnold, and politely explain to her how her decision is offensive. She can be reached at mayor@moncton.ca. Please copy monctonmenorah@gmail.com.

Help us Bring Them Home

While almost 100 people who were kidnapped on October 7^th were released over the past week, over 100 people are still being held captive by terrorists in Gaza. There are still women and children, men young and old, people with citizenship from countries across the globe, who are hostages. Their lives are in danger. Many of them need medical help, and they are all malnourished. Write to your local government. Hang a poster of a hostage. Attend a rally. Tell your friends that terrorism can’t win.

November 5, 2023

Crying

On Friday afternoon I cried. I was in my kitchen, washing dishes, about to prepare dinner, and I turned on the TV. A journalist was interviewing a woman who looked like she could be my age, and she described the moment her daughter was shot and killed.

And I cried. I just had a very challenging week, as my husband and I had to deal with a medical emergency with our youngest child. It was the first time, in my 16 plus years as a parent, that I felt real fear about the health of my child. When a medical professional tells a parent that they need to get their child down to the pediatric emergency department immediately, because of a raging infection, you feel fear.

My daughter received world-class care, and less than 2 days later, she was back to her active, busy, smiling, nutty and happy self. She reminded me again why her name – Nessa – which means “miracle” in Hebrew, is so fitting. Watching her skip around the house, sing quietly to herself, or play with her toys, brought me tremendous joy in the latter half of the week.

I never took my children for granted, but this week I appreciated my healthy, happy and wonderful children more than ever. I watched Nessa suffer through tremendous pain, and she had to endure a difficult procedure. I held her hand. I hugged her and I kissed her. And I appreciated her.

But I didn’t cry.

Until Friday.

Here I was, feeling thankful that my child was once again healthy, out of danger, and on my TV was a woman who shared, in intimate detail, how Hamas terrorists entered her home and shot at her family through a door. The bullets hit her 18-year-old daughter and killed her. Somehow, and no one may ever be able to explain how or why, the mother and her two other children, were not physically harmed. But her husband was kidnapped and taken hostage to Gaza.

In the past month I have read countless stories, watched an untold number of news reports, pored over social media and had an unlimited number of conversations with family and friends, and yet I broke down and cried, alone, when this mother told her story.

I don’t care what your politics are, your religion, your race, your ethnicity, or your nationality. No mother should have to describe how her daughter was shot and killed. No mother even wants to see her child sick, or in pain, or suffering, but to describe the murder of her daughter, in front of her eyes? It is unfathomable.

I’ve been walking around in a bit of a haze and daze for the past four weeks. Or maybe that’s not the right description. In some ways, I’ve actually been hyper focused and more aware of the world around me than ever before. While it could be so easy to feel alone and isolated, instead I have felt a closer kinship and closeness to what is called Klal Yisrael than ever before.

I’m sure the thought was simmering in my head already, but in the moment I watched that mother share her story about her daughter’s death, I felt connected to her. I have never met her, I don’t know her politics, her religious observance or really anything about her. And yet I felt close to her, so close that tears trickled down my cheeks.

What, for me, is Klal Yisrael? Or put another way, what is Judaism? It’s not just a religion. We are a people, a nation, an ethnicity and a religion. We are a community who unites when we are attacked, and with the exception of those on the fringe (which the Jerusalem Post editor so eloquently described as the Un-Jews), we are connected through an unbreakable bond. As writer and scholar, Yossi Klein Halevi, who I much admire, shared recently, we don’t wish to be pitied. We are not victims. We can defend ourselves, and we are here to stay. “Given the choice, we preferred to be condemned than pitied.”

I am not going to use this space to give an overview of over 5,000 years of Jewish history, or to give a synopsis of the story of the peoples of the Middle East. The Jewish People (that’s right, People, as I stated above Judaism is not just a religion), have had a continuous presence in the land of Israel for thousands of years. And we want to continue to live there, in peace and security.

For me, that doesn’t mean that the other Peoples who live there can’t continue to do so too. If we are all to survive – and thrive – we can criticize each other, but we must start by accepting each other’s right to live, to learn, and to prosper, and be mutually respectful.

No mother, whether she identifies as Jewish, Muslim, Arab, Christian, or anything else, should have to describe how her daughter was brutally murdered in front of her eyes. That for me, is the crux of the war raging right now. If an army of terrorists is committed to sadistically murder every daughter in Israel (as well as sons) and wipe the Jewish People off the map, then our future is bleak.

You don’t need to agree with all my views or perspectives, but as a fellow human being, I expect you to respect me as a person first. When hundreds, or maybe it was thousands, rage, as a mob, and rape, maim and murder more than 1,400 people, it means they have been raised and taught that Jews are not human beings. If you raise your child to not love others as one wants to be loved, if you teach them that some in this world are no better than an insect that is meant to be squished, then it is easy to kill them.

When the terrorists entered that home on October 7^th and shot through the locked door where the terrified family huddled, the terrorists had the mindset that all they had to do was kill the insects. The germs. The sub-humans. And move on to the next home. They didn’t see the people behind that door, or the inhumanity of what they did.

During the interview, this mother went on to describe her daughter’s funeral. She cried as she told the journalist that what’s so hard is that she can never hug her daughter again. Too many Israeli mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and children can never hug their loved ones again.

This mother, who buried her daughter a few weeks ago, is a human being, a strong, loving person who inspires me. She is the epitome of the Jewish mother, and she gives me hope for the future. For without hope, or Tikvah in Hebrew – the name of Israel’s national anthem – life is not worth living.

August 3, 2021August 3, 2021

Women Run Circles around the Men

If you know me, or if you follow my blog, you know that I’m a sports fan. It’s a topic I love to write about, from baseball to hockey to football and basketball. Skiing. Tennis. And of course, the Olympics. Yes I admit it. I love the Olympics. I love to watch the Olympics, whether it’s the winter or summer games. I can’t get enough of it. For the past week and a half I have closely followed the Tokyo 2020 Olympic Games, but what has piqued my interest the most are the Canadian women.

I am a person who defines myself in many ways. When I ask myself who I am, I never have a simple answer. Of course I am a mother and a wife. I’m a daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, cousin, friend. I am a writer and communications leader. But I’m also a woman. I’m a woman with a voice, often a loud voice.

My career has been shaped, in part, by choices that I made as a woman. I turned down a promotion, and raise, when my son turned one, so that I could work part-time and be with him. I was laid off from a job during a supposed reorganization weeks after I returned from a year-long maternity leave with my older daughter. I lost another job while I was on maternity leave with my third child!

I learned years ago that I couldn’t do it all. Kudos to the women who find a way to do it all, but for most of us, we need to make choices. If I wanted to be with my children when they were babies, it meant my career slowed down, or at times, paused. If I want to push myself all the way now at work, it means time away from my kids. So many women feel this pull, as they push forward with a career and raise a family.

So, back to where I began and my love of the Olympics. I’m not going to make excuses for that. There are many reasons why the Olympics may be past their prime and need to be rethought for our 21^st century society. The cost to plan and execute the games is absurd. Venues are built that often fall into a state of decay a few years later. The lives of the locals are put on hold when the world arrives in their town. Quite frankly, the Olympic games are rather unpopular.

The Olympics has never been less popular than the 2020 games (yes, happening in 2021). Even I, a long-time fan, had my doubts. But, I woke up at 6:30 am back on July 23^rd, to watch the opening ceremonies on TV. As soon as the countdown began to the live event, at 7:00 am my time, I was hooked. I watched the athletes march out, each with a woman and man holding their country’s flag, together. I heard the commentators state that Team Canada has about an equal number of men and women this time. There was a feeling in the air that it was an Olympics that wouldn’t just be defined by a global pandemic but also the strength, determination and power of great women.

Before even one game was played or one race run, women made headlines around the world. Canadian boxer Mandy Bujold won an appeal to compete, since she chose to have a baby during the qualifying period. But it wasn’t only Bujold who got a chance to compete. She changed the rules so that in the future, women who are pregnant or postpartum during qualifying will have a chance to compete.

Then there’s Kim Gaucher and her baby, Sophie. She appealed – and won her case – to bring her infant with her to the Olympics so that she could nurse her daughter. And don’t forget the Norwegian women’s beach handball team who were fined for not wearing bikinis at a European Federation event. It went viral on social media and was not actually connected to the Olympics, but it brought up the role of uniforms for women in sport.

And once the games began, Canadian women are lighting it up. As I write this blog, Team Canada has won 3 gold, 4 silver and 7 bronze medals. How many have been won by women? Thirteen. Do the math. 3 + 4 + 6 = 13. With the exception of the great Andre de Grasse who won a bronze medal in the 100 metre sprint), all the medals have been won by women. I do not want to discount the hard work and incredible effort and achievements by our Canadian men. Just being at the Olympics is an achievement. A top 10 finish is amazing. And how about a fourth place finish? Two one-hundredths of a second in a race can separate an athlete from a medal and fourth place.

But let’s go back to the incredible achievement of our Canadian women. Like me, every one of Canada’s female athletes has a story and define themselves in many ways. Some are wives or mothers. They may be students or professionals. And they are all Olympic athletes. It would be hard to find another sporting event around the world where women are adored and celebrated like they are at the Olympic games.

I watched as the Canadian team rowed and raced in the Women’s-Eight event. I was in awe as they pushed themselves to the brink of exhaustion and stayed ahead of the competition from the moment their ores hit the water. This amazing group won gold. They come from diverse backgrounds and came together as one strong team to achieve greatness – while the world watched.

Canadian women are making their mark in the pool, as they swim and dive. Weight lifting. Softball. Judo. And of course rowing. But they are really making their mark on Canadian women – and girls. We are reading about them on the internet. We are watching them achieve greatness on TV. And we are talking about them at home. The story in Canada right now is just how great our female athletes are. These Olympic games are pushing women into the headlines, as we celebrate them every day.

On the weekend the Summer Olympic Games will come to an end. Many of the women who became household names this week will return home, some to train at school, or back to work or hug their kids. It is my hope that we keep the momentum going, to encourage our daughters to be their version of an Olympian. Maybe our girls will be baseball stars, or concert pianists or become a doctor or teacher or write an award-winning novel.

Or maybe win a gold medal at the Olympic games. Or just compete at the Olympics. And I’ll be there to watch. Every time.

January 24, 2021January 24, 2021

My Girl Can Do Anything

I took this photo three years ago – January 2018, when my daughter, Julia, earned her Purple Belt in karate. That’s no small feat, no matter how big or how old you are. Julia was just seven years old the day she wrapped this precious belt around her little waist. I remember the day like it was yesterday, and it makes me smile with pride. I knew it already when she was very tiny, but on this day, when Julia raised her arms high, holding that purple belt, I knew: my girl can do anything.

There has been much written and discussed over the last week about the incredible achievement in the United States, that a woman is now their Vice-President. It took the U.S. 244 years to elect a woman to the second-most senior seat in their government. I, like millions of women around the world, am thrilled and feel that it’s about time. I even admit that I teared up, just a bit, on January 20^th, when I watched this incredible woman, Kamala Harris, take the oath of office.

But through those tears of joy a little bit of the cynic in me was there too. Other thoughts were pulsing through my head, and I can’t get them out. Writing about my thoughts does not diminish Vice President Harris’s achievement, but I feel I need to share my considerations.

Much of the Democratic World is far ahead of the US: they’ve elected female leaders

I can’t help but think about the fact that the U.S. just inaugurated their FIRST ever woman Vice President, in 2021. If I look over the past 100 years, in democracies around the world, it’s not hard to find many incredible women who haven’t just achieved the second highest office in the land, but the highest. There are dozens of women on the list.

Margaret Thatcher was elected Prime Minister of the United Kingdom in 1979. Indira Gandhi was Prime Minister of India, first elected in 1966, then again in 1980. I can’t forget Golda Meir, who led Israel as its Prime Minister from 1969 to 1974. Even Canada had a female Prime Minister, Kim Campbell, for six fleeting months in 1993. Angela Merkel has been the Chancellor of Germany since 2005. Jacinda Ardern became Prime Minister of New Zealand in 2017 and has even had a baby during this time.

Throughout our nation’s history, in Canada, three remarkable women have achieved the office of Deputy Prime Minister, starting with Sheila Copps in 1993. Anne McLellan held the role from 2003-2006, and since November 2019 our Deputy Prime Minister is a woman of whom I have tremendous respect: Chrystia Freeland.

Celebrating the United States’ first ever female Vice President is important and is significant, and Kamala Harris is following in the footsteps of some of the world’s greatest women. But is she first on the world stage? Is the U.S. a leader here? No.

My girl can do anything: it’s not just about going after political office

During a recent conversation with a friend of mine, we discussed, in jest, what our children may be when they grow up. We both have three kids, and our third child, in both cases, is outgoing, confident, even a bit of a dictator. It didn’t occur to me at the time, but the fact that hers is a boy and mine is a girl didn’t even come up in our conversation. For us both, as successful working mothers, we know that our children can do anything. Whether their child is a boy or a girl, it doesn’t matter. I always know that my girl can do anything.

Here’s a question I have been asking with respect to women: is becoming the Prime Minister, or President, or Vice-President, the highest achievement? Is that what I want my daughter to think, that women have achieved greatness only once we have been elected, not just in the United States, but around the world? My answer is the same here: no.

To be the first woman to do anything is significant, and it must be celebrated. Books have been written, movies have been produced, on the many trail blazing women from around the world who were firsts to achieve greatness, and most of these women had no political aspirations. Those women, who have been our drivers of change, have made it possible for a female to be the Chief Medical Officer of Health in Canada, Chief News Anchor, or the President of a University, CEO of a Fortune 500 Company or the Head of my daughter’s elementary school.

What about the second woman?

The first is important, in politics for sure, and in medicine, journalism, education, corporate boards and more. But how about that second woman or third or fourth, or 717^th or 7,000^th?

I love to celebrate great women, and not just our trail blazers who are the first to achieve something great. Most of the young girls and women with whom I have crossed paths in my life and career have no aspirations to be the first or even to be a driver of change. But they do believe that they can do anything. And that’s because 717, or 7,000 or 7 million women have gone before them to create that path.

To be the first woman Vice President of the United States is an achievement. It is worth a celebration, across social media, newspapers, TV, movies. Everywhere. If it makes even just one young girl develop the ambition to seek the highest political office, then the world is a better place. And you will hear me cheer. Let’s also cheer on the second woman who will one day be Vice President of the United States, or the fourth woman to become Deputy Prime Minister in Canada, or the next woman to be named the CEO or President of a University, or really, to achieve whatever dream she has.

Let’s encourage girls and women to do anything and be everything they WANT to be, no matter what that it is. That’s what I do in my house every day, and I know that my girl can do anything.

November 22, 2020November 22, 2020

It’s Groundhog Day, Again

Then put your little hand in mine, there ain’t no hill or mountain we can’t climb…. These are the words that Phil Connors hears each morning, at 6:00 am, in the famous 1993 film, Groundhog Day.. It’s a favourite in my household, with its humour and downright silliness, and yet lesson about being open to change and being with those you love. Now I’ll state the obvious, what so many of us have been thinking: we are living the movie. It’s Groundhog Day, again.

As I thought about writing this post, and as I started to put the first few words on my screen today, I wanted to state something very important up front: it is not my intention to make fun of or to minimize the impact and power of COIVD-19. This virus is to be taken seriously, and so many people are ill or have died. I am not poking fun at COVID-19.

Our lives changed in an instant on Wednesday, March 11^th, 2020, when the World Health Organization (WHO) declared COVID-19 a “global pandemic.” We were scared, politicians and scientists had more questions than answers, and we all panicked. In Canada, at least, we locked down. Our lives, it seemed, stopped in an instant.

Which is when the real-life version of Groundhog Day began.

Since that fateful day in March, does it ever seem like every day is the same? No matter what your routine is, does it seem repetitive? Here’s my typical weekday. And when I say typical, this is my life, every day:

A Groundhog Day in the Life of Alicia since March 16^th

6:50: radio turns on, by timer of course, to Newstalk 1010. Yep I love to hear John Moore in the morning. I listen to the daily updates and chatter for a few minutes, in a semi-comatose state, until I have the strength to roll out of bed just after 7:00.
7:20: Shower and make myself look decently presentable.
7:40: Start the process to wake up 13-year-old son.
7:42: Return to bedroom of said son and see if he’s conscious.
7:45: Return once again to bedroom of said son with louder voice and make him respond.
7:50: Wake up my daughters, who now insist on sharing a bed. Enlist the help of the dog, to climb on them and lick their faces. They get up.
7:55: Run downstairs as fast as I can to avoid hearing the fight that the four-year-old needs to pee but her brother is still in the shower.
8:00-8:20: prepare breakfast and lunches for the kids, load school bags and get everything ready at the door.
8:20: Sit down at my new home-office desk (which used to be my dining room but now is my office/sitting room) and turn on my computer. Have a quick check at morning emails.
8:25: turn on the espresso maker, grind my beans and get my morning cappuccino ready.
8:30: Raise my voice that it’s time to leave and maybe children should get their shoes and coats on.
8:32: Raise my voice further as at least one of them is ignoring me.
8:34: Remind them to bring their backpacks as they run out the door to the car with my husband, as he drives them to school.

**Note the “drive to school part” is only as of September 8^th. In the spring they learned virtually and most of the morning still looked like this.

8:35: the workday formally begins, with meetings on Webex, email, writing, phone calls and a lot of multi-tasking. Jump from one file to the next and back again. Finally take the first sip of my cappuccino. Brain is waking up.
8:35-4:00: the heart of the workday, when the house is quiet and the kids are at school. My main distraction is my cute personal assistant, aka my dog, who takes issue with any person who dares walk along the sidewalk in front of my house.
11:00: I suddenly realize that once again I’ve eaten nothing and make myself a light breakfast. Same thing a few hours later when I realize maybe lunch is a good idea as all I’ve consumed is coffee and yoghurt.
4:00: My girls arrive home from school, bursting through the front door like a tornado. Note that sometimes I pick them up and sometimes my husband does. So I guess there’s some variety in the day. Dog goes wild. Children scream. Everyone who I work with knows my children are home.
4:20: My son arrives home. He adds to the pile of school junk at the front door and disappears to some corner of the house to check all the sports news he’s missed in the past 8 hours.
5:30: I start to try to wind down my workday, though this will often stretch to 6:00, 6:30 or beyond.
6:00: Enter the kitchen, to discover a hurricane has yet again come through, with a sink full of dishes, empty food containers on the counter and a dishwasher that needs to be emptied.
6:01: Get over the daily shock, turn on the TV and watch CTV News at 6 for the day’s daily depressing update.
6:30: Once my kitchen is sparkling clean, start cooking dinner. Yes, I cook dinner every night, and not simple basic food. This part of the day is cathartic for me, though I do scream at my kids every few minutes to leave me alone while I cook. How do they constantly want a snack?
7:30: Dinner is finally ready and everyone attacks. I will admit it here: we gave up on sitting together at the table for a family dinner months ago. The five of us spend so much time together that the kids dumped us when it came to mealtime. So everyone does their own thing.
8:30: I realize that the evening has flown by and maybe I should start putting the four-year-old to bed. Sometimes she’s jumped in the bath already and other times I look at my messy, yet only lightly dirty child, and decide a bath isn’t worth it. Meanwhile I holler to the 10-year-old that screen time is over for the night. She has just spent the past 4 hours on her phone and laptop, socializing with her friends and it’s time to say good night.
9:00: If I have my act together, I have the girls in bed, ready to read with me. First it’s a preschool book for the younger one. Then I switch to the good book: Harry Potter, which I’m reading aloud with my 10-year-old. We’re on book 6 now, and we enjoy every minute. And yes, I do all the voices and even some accents!
9:45: I fall asleep reading to my daughter, which displeases her every night. Her sister (and the dog) have finally fallen asleep, and I slowly get up and move on with my evening.
10:00: I consider doing something around the house, like a load of laundry or cleaning my office but instead fall over on my bed. Luckily my husband has cleaned the kitchen. At this point my son is ensconced on the couch, and depending on the night, either watching football, playing XBOX or reading up on yet more sports news.
10:50: After lying on my bed for the past 50 minutes, either chatting on WhatsApp with friends or playing Scrabble against the computer, I get up and get ready for bed.
11:00: I’m in bed, watching the news and seeing that it too, hasn’t changed.

I’ve missed a few details, and sometimes a few things change, but the beginning, middle and end are basically the same each day. And so it is, I believe, for many other people. My long, often monotonous day, is repetitive and really, not exciting at all. I watch and read too much news. I participate in some of the most inane conversations with friends and family on my mobile device. I’m constantly paranoid that I forgot to add certain items to my online grocery order. I regularly check my storage room to see if I have enough toilet paper, power towel and flour. Then I head to my computer and buy more.

As those of us living in Toronto head into a new stretch with increased restrictions, I guess I’ll just keep singing the song, I Got You, Babe, every morning. As long as COVID-19 rages across the world it’s going to be Groundhog day, today, tomorrow and for many days to come.

October 11, 2020October 11, 2020

Tik Tok, Tik Tok – WhatsApp? Do I have online time to bypass any Roblox while I Instagram my photos for a Fortnite?

I realize that my subject line only makes just a bit of sense, unless you have been living under a rock for the past 7 months. Whether you live with teens, pre-teens, other adults or on your own, social media and online gaming are keeping us in touch, busy and sometimes just on the brink of sanity this year.

All of these tools can never replace face-to-face, in person interactions. A hug from a loved one or hanging out on the couch with a good friend are special, uplifting and necessary in our lives.. Human beings, I believe, are by our very nature sociable and in need of other people (or pets, but that’s for another day!).

But that’s just not possible right now. Not only is it not a good idea to hug your grandmother or host friends for dinner at home, in many places it’s just outright banned. So we find alternatives. We find other ways to fill the long and often lonely days, to break the boredom and seek out different ways to connect.

Enter the smartphone, tablet, computer or gaming system. How do I describe how I feel about the many devices, as I refer to them, that litter my home? Do I love them and feel grateful for them? Yes. Do I hate them and sometimes consider throwing them all in the garbage dump? Definitely yes!

It’s a daily battle in my head, as I constantly check my email, social media accounts and text and WhatsApp messages. And what would I do without my online Scrabble games? I am lucky that I work for a wonderful employer, ADP, who has been open and transparent and who sent us all home to work on March 16^th. I’ve been busy (okay, VERY busy!), and I often sit in front of my computer for 12 or 14 hours a day. And what do I do in between, before and after? I’m on my phone, checking in with friends and family. I can’t escape it, so how could I expect my kids to?

Screen time. When I was a kid, that phrase was only used to quantify how much time a child sat in front of the TV. In 2020, TV is old news. Now it’s the smartphone, tablet or computer. How much is too much, and without it, am I cutting my kids off from the only way they can feel connected to their friends? My 10-year-old daughter is a whiz with the various tools at her fingertips (she is also the child, who at age 2 taught her grandmother how to play Angry Birds on the iPad). Julia seems to be at the centre of more social circles than ever before, jumping between multiple texts, WhatsApp conversations, video chats and online interactive games. Her phone is dinging all day and every few minutes I hear the voice of a different friend of hers emanating from her bedroom.

My son plays online games with his cousins and also camp friends who live around the world. I often hear him laughing hysterically at 2:00 am, as they discuss the latest sports news. Even my four-year-old often has her head down with a device, watching some painful kiddie video on YouTube or preschooler game. Her little fingers give her the ability to fly through screens at a rapid pace.

Does this make me a terrible parent? Am I destroying my kids’ brains by letting them spend so much of their day online? What damage have I done to myself? I spend hours in front of a computer screen, day after day, and in between I’m on my phone. I hear clicking and pings all the time, whether they are real or not. I followed the news before but now admit I’m definitely a news junkie. Is this healthy? Terrible? Devastating?

I think it’s all of it. The world as we knew it before March 2020 doesn’t exist right now. Devices, like it or not, keep us all connected and together. I don’t know what I’d do without my WhatsApp group from work, people who have truly become close friends in the last seven months – and yet I haven’t seen them at all. How else could we have celebrated Matthew’s Bar Mitzvah in April without webcams, computers and the Internet? I had never felt closer to family than I did on that day, as we all appeared side by side on our screens.

My kids’ lifeline is their personal mobile device. The pinging, middle of the night laughter and online parties are helping them – and me – get through this. I need to stop thinking about screen time and see it more as social time. We have found new ways to stay close to the ones we love and build bonds with old and new friends. Thank goodness for social media, video chats and online gaming. Like it or not, they are here to stay.

September 20, 2020September 20, 2020

Ready for a Happy New Year

It is the start of a new year.2020 has a few months to go, but 5781 has arrived. People like to make resolutions at the start of a new year, so why not at the start of the Jewish new year? The second half of 5780 was hard, for everyone around the world, and just plain terrible for many. While I would love to wish everyone a healthy, sweet and wonderful new year, I fear this is a wish that won’t come true.

I haven’t published a post since May 2018, when my daughter Julia celebrated her 9^th birthday. I honestly don’t know why I stopped writing here. It’s something I love to do. Was I busy? Did I forget? Did I always have something else to do? Maybe. I’m not going to make excuses. I made a commitment, when I published my first post in May 2017, that this blog was important to me and that I was excited to start this new journey.

Then I got side tracked. Even during the early lockdown of this pandemic in March and April, I didn’t write. When I was lucky enough to spend much of my summer outside the city, I didn’t write. My kids went back to school, and I didn’t write. So, it’s a new year, and I’m ready to write. Here I am, I’m back.

I have so many ideas for new blog posts. Every day I come across something that makes me think, read about a piece of news that makes me want to know more or have an interesting conversation that makes me want to write, I remind myself that the Kinetic Motions blog is where I need to share my thoughts.

We are living in such a unique and challenging time in our lives. Over 30 million people have been infected and almost 1 million people have died from a dangerous virus. This virus is terrorizing us, hurting us and killing us. It has not only changed every aspect of our daily lives, but so many people have lost the ones they love.

I am not going to use this space to tell people to be smart and berate those who are ignorant or who choose to ignore the invisible enemy. We are all in this together. The world is just a small global village, and everyone, in every community, is responsible for the good and welfare of everyone else.

In the past 16 months since I published my last post, Nessa turned 3, then she turned 4; we celebrated Matthew’s Bar Mitzvah from our dining room and blasted the signal via Zoom around the world; Julia hit double digits in May; my beloved Poppy died in April, at the age of 99; oh and we got a dog…. An adorable Maltese-Bichon mix, who just turned 3. And of course so much more in between, in the midst of a global pandemic.

The world, and life, are never boring. Every day brings something new, and sometimes shocking. A shooting, hurricane, wildfires, murders of people because of their skin colour or ethnicity. I don’t want to be dulled by any of these events, but maybe, we could do with a bit of just plain boring in 5781.

So, the blog is back. Kinetic Motions is, well, back in motion. Whether you celebrate or not, I wish you a happy, healthy, sweet, and maybe a little boring, new year.

*Just a little note… the apple featured here was just picked from my backyard garden. We have a single apple tree in our backyard, that typically produces one apple each year. This year it bloomed with beautiful flowers and produced a few apples for us to enjoy. If the tree can bloom, so can we.

February 3, 2019

Happy Year of the Pig

I like pigs. That’s right. I don’t eat them. I just like them. I always have, since I was a child. I can’t pinpoint an exact moment or reason when or why I started to have an interest in this fine animal, but the pig and I have always shared a strong bond.

So it seems timely, as a citizen of the world, that I celebrate the Chinese New Year this week, which of course is the Year of the Pig. From what I have read, the Year of the Pig is the twelfth of the 12-year cycle of animals which appear in the Chinese zodiac related to the Chinese calendar. Other great animals are part of this, like the dog, rabbit and tiger, but really, no animal is as interesting or as sophisticated as the pig.

I have to say that this loveable animal really gets a bad rap. It is often associated with being dirty, fat and lazy, and that’s not fair. I have scoured the internet (some very sophisticated research) and found some fascinating information:

Top Ten Things You Didn’t Know about the Pig

They are fast. Can you run a 7-minute mile? Adult pigs can run up to 11 miles per hour. Why don’t you try that?
The expression “sweat like a pig” is not accurate. Pigs don’t really sweat – they like to cool off in the mud. That’s why you think they are dirty. But they’re just hot!
If my daughter’s room looked like a pig sty, I’d be thrilled. They may roll in mud to cool off, but they are naturally very clean and organized. Pigs self-potty train, and new research shows that in an open barnyard pen they will establish a community toilet.
They are chatty creatures and know how to communicate with each other. They use different kinds of vocalizations to speakto each other. Those aren’t just squeals.
They are not picky eaters. They will eat anything. Can you say that about your children?
Maybe they don’t see so well, but wow do they have an excellent sense of smell. Just ask someone who likes to eat truffles (and I mean mushrooms, not chocolate).
It’s not just my daughter who is sociable – so are pigs. They like to be together and snuggle together when they sleep.
You are not that different from a pig, genetically I mean. Their stem cells are helping us humans for research into countless diseases.
This one is interesting, especially as we celebrate the Chinese New Year – pigs are associated with fertility in Chinese culture. So many hidden talents.
This is a smart animal, often ranked just behind apes and dolphins. According to Winston Churchill (and I have a piece of art depicting this in my home), “I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”

So you can see why I like pigs. I could tell you at least 10 more great things about this animal. I will admit I don’t want one for a pet. They may be domesticated, but I don’t think I’m ready to take that leap. But if anyone wanders around my house, it won’t take long to see hints of the pinky pig all over the place.

Yes, I literally have dozens of the stuffy kind all over my house, led by the big and cutest one, my long-time friend Taloulah (yes that’s her in the photo at the top of this post). This giant stuffed pig joined me when David and I lived around the world early in our marriage. I was so worried about Taloulah flying safely from France to Israel back in 1999 that I made David take my lovable friend as carry-on luggage on the journey. I still giggle at the thought of a grown man wandering through Charles de Gaulle airport with a giant stuffed pig under his arm!

The collectibles never went too far, but the friendly pig paraphernalia definitely permeates throughout my house. There’s the kitchen ice cream scoop or the citrus squeezer. Pillows and picture frames. Socks and t-shirts. It’s just enough to keep me happy but not too much to overwhelm and take over.

So this week, as Chinese communities around the world celebrate the new year and put the pig up on a pedestal, where it’s supposed to be, I will celebrate with them. As will Porky, Miss Piggy, Olivia and of course, Peppa too.

January 30, 2019January 29, 2019

Do you want to have a Snow Day?

Some people would describe a massive snowstorm as terrible and nasty. They shudder at the prospect of cleaning heavy snow off their car, a longer commute to work and slippery sidewalks. It’s just miserable. Then there are people like me who perk up and get excited when they hear the word snow. When I saw the weather forecast a few days ago that a big storm was headed my way, my first thought: snow day.

A rather big snow storm blew through Toronto on Monday. For those of you who live in cities who get big storms all the time, sure laugh at us. But I’m sure that a solid 35 cm of the white stuff fell on my front lawn. And all over Toronto. The city was crazy and hectic. But as I sat at home and looked out my window, I saw the beauty of my neighbourhood covered in a shiny white blanket.

Tuesday morning, 6:40 am. My cell phone rings. I ignore it. Ten minutes later the phone rings again. I turn off the ringer.

My morning radio alarm goes on and they are reading out the list of school closures. I check my phone. Email from the kids’ school. It’s closed. Phone rings again and I finally answer it. The preschool is closed.

Snow day!

Yippee!

I firmly believe that a snow day is one of the greatest highlights of childhood. Every child has to experience at least one snow day. You wake up groggy from the night and your parents tell you, guess what, school is closed – snow day! The look of joy on my children’s faces was something I will remember for a long time. Pure happiness.

Stay in your pyjamas. Make a big batch of French toast. Turn on the TV and watch morning cartoons (update for 2019: pull out the ipad and click on the Netflix app). Sit back and relax.

I looked out my front window and quickly came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going anywhere either. Getting dressed meant throwing on a pair of old sweatpants and breakfast was a homemade espresso and leftover french toast.

I flicked on my laptop and did my best to hide in my home office to work. By midday I had actually accomplished quite a bit of work. There were six children in my house, including the kids’ friends and my nephew. We were settling in for a cozy day.

After they downed a few boxes of Annie’s mac and cheese, it was time to throw them outside. What child doesn’t want to run around outside after a huge snowfall? What parent doesn’t want to throw them out there after said children slowly started to trash every corner of the house?

I don’t know what the three boys did outside, but after a couple of hours in front of an ipad or XBOX, these border collies needed their run. Again, thank you tons of snow for providing great entertainment for them. My two-year-old wasn’t quite as happy. She couldn’t move outside in the waist-deep snow (ya that happens when you are a few inches under three feet tall).

As the afternoon wore on, the brood of children grew restless, in particular the boys. So isn’t it logical to throw on a bathing suit and jump in the hot tub? If you are 10 or 11 years old, sure! Minus ten (or something close to that) and a foot of snow is a great appetizer to a 95-degree vat of water.

Everywhere I looked in my house all day a different activity was going on. My older daughter was hosting a Playmobil pool party in her bedroom. My son took full advantage of his selection of XBOX games in the basement. The baby traveled from room to room, sharing her toys and snacks with the couch, the floor, her clothes and her siblings’ bedrooms. David and I switched off between work and cleaning up after the pack of kids.

On first read it sounds like the local zoo, but it was bliss. Outside it was freezing cold with layers of snow blanketing every corner of the city. And inside everyone was cheerful and drinking in every moment of this special day.

And as the sun began to set on the day, the fun continued. My nephew and son announced their interest to go night snowboarding at a local small but decent little hill – right in the middle of the city. My daughter definitely had a bit of cabin fever and eagerly went to her karate class.

We didn’t waste a minute of the day. Good food, good friends and good fun. Who could ask for more? Maybe another snow day tomorrow? My kids were quite sure of that as they drifted off to sleep. It was a great snow day, indeed, but another one tomorrow? Ah, I don’t think so.

June 7, 2018

It is Your Duty to Vote

I feel privileged every day that I live in a free, just and democratic country. I take nothing for granted in my life, and when it is an election in my city, province or country, I take my privilege to vote very seriously.

As I write, it is late afternoon on Thursday, June 7^th. It is election day in the province of Ontario, and it’s been a hard fought (sometimes nasty) campaign. I am not going to use this space to share my opinion on which candidates or political party would be better for the province of Ontario. I don’t support any specific political party and choose who I vote for very carefully. Whether it’s at the municipal, provincial or federal level, day to day I am non-partisan and support candidates and elected officials for various reasons.

Again, who I actually voted for today is not relevant here and I am not sharing my choice. What is relevant is that I voted. I always vote. It always amazes me that so many people in countries like Canada choose not to vote. Whether your candidate of choice wins or loses, I believe that all citizens who are the age of majority are obligated to cast a vote.

For example, only 52% of eligible citizens voted in Ontario’s last provincial election back in June of 2014. Federal election turnout was better three years ago when 68% of eligible voters cast a ballot. Media reported “higher voter turnout” after Toronto’s 2014 election, which saw 60% of eligible voters participate.

Why should we be satisfied with a turnout of 60%? Shouldn’t we strive for 100% participation, or close to it? If someone can’t vote on election day, there are ample opportunities to cast a vote before. Or remotely. Our democracy doesn’t just encourage us to vote, it obligates us to do so.

I remember watching the news about 15 years ago when open elections came to Iraq. This was a country that was under brutal autocratic rule for years. There was no such thing as open, free and fair elections for the people. Iraq was still a dangerous place after the regime was toppled. Democracy was in its infancy. And there were elections.

People waited in line for hours, and many of them risked their lives just to cast a vote. Polling stations and those long lines were often attacked. Scores of people were killed. But they had to vote, or at least they had to try. I remember reading the stories and watching on TV and was in awe. The ability to vote was so easy for me, living in an established democracy like Canada. How could I not always vote? How could every Canadian not always vote?

And yet many do not. I hope the voter turnout increased today from its previous number of just 52%. The provincial government in Ontario is going to change today. Many people will be happy and a large number will be angry. But in my mind, unless you voted you do not have a right to complain about your government. The person for whom I cast my vote may or may not win. The party of my choice may or may not be in power tomorrow, . but I participated in the process. And I always will.

**That’s my grandfather, age 97 (98 in a few weeks!) voting today. He is someone who taught me the importance of voting.