Is Tiger Feeling Lucky Today?

Very funny!

Whoa! Where have you been?

I know I’ve been MIA for some time. Seems I finally decided to get the work done on my house, and, even though I was paying someone to do it, having the house under construction just sucked the life outa me. Not to mention the bucks out of my checkbook…

Anyway. I tripped across a fascinating video today of J. K. Rowling giving the Harvard Commencement address in 2008. It’s just wonderful.

And it’s about failure. Interesting topic about which to speak to a bunch of people graduating from… Harvard.

Here’s a part that really resonated with me:

“So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”

Here’s the video:

J.K. Rowling Speaks at Harvard Commencement from Harvard Magazine on Vimeo.

Observations

Things I’ve noticed since being SA (single again)…

I pay attention to when parents have different last names from their children
I notice when I order a meal for one to go, and the person on the other end says, “will that be all?” Are they judging me?
I take a mental attendance when I’m in a group… am I the only one who’s divorced/single?
I look for wedding rings on other people

It’s like when you’re pregnant and it seems that every other woman is, too.

The table

My friend Sue used to volunteer at a prison in Michigan City, Indiana. She led worship services and celebrated holidays with the Jewish prisoners. They even had a name for their community: Beit Heirut, House of Freedom.

Now, this is an unusual name for a group of men in a prison, and, when asked, they would tell you all about how there were certain freedoms for them that they attained through their worship and camaraderie. Their name aside, there were, of course, many restrictions put on Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – because they were in such an unusual setting. One Hanukkah, for instance, the volunteers wanted to bring in home-baked goods (a real no-no in prisons and, well, schools I guess) like potato pancakes (latkes). For many Jews, Hanukkah just isn’t the same without latkes, those delicious, greasy symbols of the miracle oil that burned for eight days when it should have run out after one. The volunteers were told that they couldn’t bring in latkes from home, so that year the men in Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – celebrated Hanukkah with McDonald’s hash browns (which, ironically, are probably healthier anyway).

The members of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – worshipped like we do for the holidays. They prayed from the same prayerbooks that many Jews “on the outside” use; they sang the songs we sing and they told sermons about topics that are difficult for all of us – things like teshuvah, or repentance; forgiveness and finding the holy in everyday life. There is nothing like hearing a man who is serving a life sentence for murder talk about forgiveness to make you stop and think, that’s for sure.

One thing that the men did not have was a Torah – the holy scripture. Torahs are expensive, and, while old prayerbooks can be found in used book stores and in forgotten storage places in overcrowded synagogues, one is unlikely to find an unused Torah hanging around. Physically, they’re heavy, big, awe-inspiring things: two heavy wooden posts with yards and yards of parchment wrapped around them. The production of a Torah takes hours and hours, and, well, you just don’t find them lying around.

We Jews revere the Torah. We have a special place to put it when it’s not being read. We stand when it is presented to the congregation. It is an honor to bless it, carry it, dress it and certainly to read from it. Torahs are checked regularly to make sure that they remain intact and are not pasul – unfit for public reading. Sadly, when a Torah becomes torn or otherwise unreadable it is retired from public use and destined to be buried – mourned forever by the community it leaves.

It was such a Torah that my friend Sue managed to find and acquire as a donation to the men of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom. Pasul – yes – and unfit for the general community – it was almost fitting that this dejected Torah spend the last of its days in this unusual brotherhood of Jews.

The men of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – were elated. To have their own Torah from which to read, to honor, with which to dance – this was a true cause for celebration. They didn’t care whether or not it was pasul – they just cared that they be able to embrace this wonderful gift and treat it as it deserved to be treated.

When one is not reading a Torah, it’s not like you put it on a shelf in the office or stick it in a drawer. It sits in a very special place – the Aron Kodesh, or holy Ark. When you enter a synagogue sanctuary, the Aron Kodesh is often at the front of the room. They are likely to be majestic structures, ornate and decorative. Magnificent even. They have words on them like holy, community, and Torah.

What were the men of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – to do? They didn’t have the means to purchase an Aron Kodesh, and it surely would be impossible to get one donated to this ragtag group of Jews.

The members of Beit Heirut approached the warden of the prison. Did he have any ideas? Was there any wood that they could acquire to build an Aron Kodesh? They had skills, and the prison had a woodshop. All they needed was the material from which to build the holy Ark.

The warden had a solution. There was an old wooden table that the prison was no longer using. The men could use the table to build their Ark.

This would work. The men could use the table and repurpose it to house their Torah. Not only would they have this wonderful Torah to have as their own, they would be able to honor it as it required, with its own home.

The table was taken out of storage, the men got to work, and the Aron Kodesh was built. The men of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom – were happy. Their community felt sacred.

Why am I telling you this story in a blog about healing from divorce?

You didn’t ask me what the table used to be used for.

Go ahead. I’ll wait. Ask.

You’ve seen prison movies, right? You know prison lore, don’t you? What’s one of the last things that happens before a condemned prisoner is put to death?

He or she gets that last meal. You know – their last chance to eat that great steak (extra cholesterol, please), fatty fries and super-creamy chocolate pie. With a triple ice-cream milk shake, too. No calorie counting.

Where do you think they used to eat that last meal in the prison in Michigan City?

Uh-huh. On that table. The table that now houses the Torah, the sacred scroll of the community of Beit Heirut - the House of Freedom.

The men took that table – a symbol of the desperation of a person about to lose his life, the failings of a society that has no choice but to put such people to death, the sadness of a grieving family who wonders if “an eye for an eye” will ease their pain – and made it into one of the holiest symbols of the Jewish people.

Out of pain, suffering, and a last resort we can create a sacred space. This we learn from the story of the Aron Kodesh and the men of Beit Heirut – the House of Freedom.

Hello, house

It occurred to me recently that I don’t hate the house any more. I don’t exactly loooove it, but we’ve come to a good place, house and I. I feel better about living here – being stuck here – and I think I actually use most of the rooms. Well, I don’t use youngest’s room – that’s hers (and, um, kind of messy), and I use the office only to retrieve documents from the printer. I actually do sit in the living room and watch TV in the living room.

This time last year I used, well, the kitchen (for the obvious) and my bedroom. I even ate a lot of meals in the bedroom. I’ve come a long way, I think.

Part of why I like it now is because most of Mr. Ex’s things are finally gone. There are still a few vestiges of stuff (and we won’t even talk about the shed in the back, or the chemicals in the garage), but he’s pretty much gone from the house. That feels good. It didn’t help to be tripping over his things and trying to figure out how to maneuver the demise of a 30-year marriage.

I’ve also done a teensy bit of redecorating to suit me. A new kitchen table, new towels, some funky new platters. An old chair in a new place. A new use for an old bassinet.

It’s starting to feel more like my house and less like the house that used to be ours.

I still plan to put it on the market, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sell it, so I’m happier knowing that we’ve come to an understanding, house and me.

Guest blogger: Donna F. Ferber

When Mr. Ex and I separated, I responded with my usual trip to Amazon.com to locate resources. One of the books I purchased was From Ex-Wife to Exceptional Life: A Woman’s Journey through Divorce by Donna F. Ferber. I mention it in my “on my nightstand” bar on the right.

Imagine my surprise – and delight – when she commented on my blog! And my further delight when she offered to guest post.

Let’s hear it for the blogosphere!

Women and Divorce -The Lore of the Rings

As we make our way through the arduous and challenging transition from married to single, we are bombarded by a myriad of changes and adjustments. Some of those are private and practical changes, such as getting comfortable sleeping in the middle of the bed. Others are more public and symbolic.

Perhaps there is no symbol more laden with meaning for women than their wedding ring. Inevitably, when a divorce is imminent, the question arises – when is it appropriate to remove my ring?

The time to remove your wedding ring varies from woman to woman. Women who experience betrayal often feel the marriage ended at the moment of discovery. They may feel that to continue to wear the ring is hypocritical. Other women entertain taking it off when divorce papers are filed or served.

Still others feel married until the divorce is legally finalized. Others continue to wear their ring long after the divorce, especially if they did not want the divorce or if they feel that, for religious reasons, the divorce is invalid. Women in the work place sometimes continue to wear it as a way to avoid questions at the office. It provides them with a sense of security and it wards off unwanted suitors! Still other women continue to wear their ring, but transfer it to the other hand or wear it on a chain around their neck.

The point is that there is no “right” time to take it off. If the ring is an important symbol for you, then the act of removing it should mean something as well. Do this mindfully, not in anger. Do it when there is acceptance and inner understanding. Do it when you feel ready. Do it as an affirmation of your single status. It doesn’t have to just mark the end of the marriage; it can symbolize the beginning of your commitment to yourself, “to love, honor and cherish” yourself.

Today’s Thought: I will consider what my ring means to me. That will help me know when it is appropriate to take it off. I will acknowledge the removal of my ring reflects the end of something, but that it also can symbolize my new single status. I will work just as hard to be a good companion to myself as I worked to be a good companion to my spouse. I know more about life now and I have more to offer myself than ever before. All the things I learned about myself through both my marriage and divorce will now provide clues and insight on how to “be” with myself.

©2009. From Ex-Wife to Exceptional Life: A Woman’s Journey through Divorce by psychotherapist by Donna F. Ferber, LPC, LADC, won an Honorable Mention Award by the Independent Publishers Association. The book is now a classic in the field and has been a constant companion and support to thousands of women as they struggle with the demise of their marriage. The author is a licensed psychotherapist in Connecticut. Her newest book, Profileactics: A Guide for the Prevention of Ill-Conceived Personal Ads is available at bookstores and at Amazon.com. To read more about the author and her work, please visit www.donnaferber.com.

It’s Complicated

Saw the movie It’s Complicated with my divorce support group over break. Great movie to see with a bunch of divorced people…

Can I just say that I want to be Meryl Streep? In general, but for sure in that movie. There she was, the self-assured, confident, successful ex-wife. At the beginning of the movie there’s a scene where she’s with a group of people, including some friends, her ex-husband (sleazily played by sleazy Alec Baldwin) and his trophy bitch wife. And, as she leaves the group – alone – you don’t feel sorry for her, you feel like she’s just fine with it.

And can I say I would also like her bakery, the house, and Steve Martin. Just sayin’

On friendship, and support from unexpected places

If you ever read the comments to my posts (and it’s not like that should be overwhelming…), you’ve probably seen some from “Montreal Babe.” MB is someone with whom I’m ‘real’ friends – somebody I actually know in real life. She’s in hospice at the moment; the result of a combination of a terrible car accident and the lack of a seat belt. MB was not a healthy woman to start with, and now she’s in hospice.

As I wrote in her CaringBridge guestbook this morning I spent a little time reflecting on our relationship, and how it evolved over time and as a result of my divorce.

Although I didn’t count her among my closest friends, MB and I were colleagues for a number of years. Several years ago she became a widow. Mr. MB died suddenly, and it was a horrible shock to our entire faculty. MB had many health issues, including diabetes, and she needed and received a great deal of support from her husband. Mr. MB was pretty much an institution at our school – dropping MB off in the morning, helping get her scooter into the building (due to her many surgeries as a result of the diabetes, she quite often couldn’t walk), and picking her up at the end of the day. Not only did we know him, but many of our students did as well. When he died, it was a loss that was mourned by our entire community. Within a year MB had to have another operation, and ended up in a nursing home for a number of months. MB – childless, now a widow, with all her family living out of the country – needed people to take care of her.

The faculty stepped up to the plate. People visited her, covered her classes, made sure her bills got paid. She got phone calls and emotional support. When she came out of the nursing home she knew that she had friends to take care of her – physically and emotionally.

But, in the end, you’re still alone. After some time you still have to get used to the empty house, the Sundays alone and the quiet. There are times you love it and times you can’t stand to hear the nothingness. MB understood that.

When Mr. Ex moved out, I found a somewhat surprising ally in MB. Many, many of my friends came to my support, but, frankly, I didn’t find that surprising. These were people with whom I had been close for many years – friends who had been at my wedding, college friends, junior high friends, for heaven’s sake. Many were friends who had known about the ups and downs of our marriage for years and had been there for me in the past. They certainly came to my aid – I expected them to, and I was not disappointed.

But Montreal Babe was the one who really stunned me. She, above anyone else, understood the loneliness and the sudden disorientation of losing one’s partner. She knew how hard it was to navigate single life after a long-time marriage. While our circumstances were different in that her partner didn’t choose to leave, and I got dumped, she understood that I was going through a difficult time and needed some encouragement to get through it all.

And she was happy to provide it.

She emailed me; she called me. She arranged movie dates and offered theatre tickets. She religiously read this blog – and, even more religiously – pestered me to keep writing when there was too much time in between blog posts. She encouraged me to write, and the positive feedback from her meant even more because she was an English teacher. She commented here and she Facebooked me.

In short, she made sure that I knew that I wasn’t alone, that I would get through this, and that I have a lot to look forward to.

I am grateful and I will miss her.

Reflections

As we enter into the last week of the year (and, incidentally, decade), some reflections…

Celebrity marital discord:

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

1. Jon and Kate. who cares?

2. Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins. I was saddened to hear this one. I always thought they were a classy couple who kept their private life private, and they seem to be doing the same with this. I just saw her yesterday touting her new movie on some show (thank goodness for winter break – how would I keep up with these things?) and I thought how wonderful she looks.

3. Tiger Woods. Elin says she’s done. I say good for her. What a disappointment – I think of all those kids who looked up to him as a determined athlete.

4. Governor Mark Sanford and his wife Jenny. She stood by him at the outset, but she, too, is now outa there. Why did she stick around at the beginning? Perhaps it was a desire to help him avoid impeachment; maybe that desire to just keep her life the way it was.

And, interestingly, what looks like a great movie is opening tomorrow – It’s Complicated. I’m planning to see it with my divorce support group – who better?

Custody issues

Getting divorced late in life generally means that custody isn’t a problem. The kids are grown. And I ‘got’ the dogs and the house (questionable at times about whether that was good or not).

But who gets custody of the age-old recipes?

Last night we went to my older daughter’s for Hanukkah. Mr. Ex brought spinach cheese pie.

This would not seem to be a crisis, or even fodder for a blog post.

But this spinach cheese pie is THE spinach cheese pie that I found some 30 years ago, when I needed to find a dish to bring to potlucks to guarantee that Mr. Ex, a vegetarian, would have something to eat. I’ve been making it so long that I don’t even need to refer to a recipe; so long that I know what ingredients I can play with and what ingredients are sacrosanct. So long that, when Mr. Ex asked me for the recipe before Thanksgiving, I was able to type it into an email and send it to him without even looking for it.

Normally I would have been bringing it, but I decided to make bourbon hot dogs instead. I no longer feel an obligation to make sure that Mr. Ex has something to eat. And since latkes (potato pancakes) were being served, he would have those to eat as well, if I was worrying about whether or not he would go hungry.

Later on, though, at the house, one of my son-in-law’s cousins complimented me on the dish, thinking that I had made it. Of course he would think I had made it – I make it all the time.

I started thinking about this recipe.

It’s mine.

I’m famous for it.

It’s my signature dish, in fact.

And now I can’t assume that I can bring it – maybe Mr. Ex will. We certainly wouldn’t want a spinach cheese pie throwdown.

Harumph.

Of course, in the great scheme of things, losing one’s spinach cheese pie rights is not worth a second thought. I read about 10 food magazines a month, not to mention countless food blogs and I probably watch at least 10 hours a month of the Food channel (oy). I can find another dish to bring.

Not a big deal, I guess.

It’s kind of the thought, though. And it’s the complication now that, if I know Mr. Ex is attending an event, I need to check to make sure that he’s not bringing MY dish.

And maybe it’s good – like everything else this year – I’ll tuck the spinach cheese pie away, along with the photos, the notes, the wedding rings – and move on.

To asparagus, perhaps.

Yes, your honor. It’s fine if she gets the house, the Rolls, and the condo in Aspen. I just want the family recipes cookbook…

And, if you’re wondering – the famous spinach cheese pie recipe:

2 packages frozen chopped spinach, defrosted and with as much liquid squeezed out as possible
4 eggs, beaten
1 cup cottage cheese (I usually go with a small curd 2%)
1 cup shredded cheese of your choice (seriously – I’ve used, chedder, swiss, mixed, whatever’s-in-the-fridge)
1/4 cup flour or matzah meal (thus making this kosher for Passover, if you so desire)
1 stick margarine or butter, melted or 1/2 cup oil
1 tablespoon seasoning. I like Trader Joe’s Seasoning Salute, but I’ve also used garlic powder, Season-All, whatever. Or nothing if you don’t want to use anything

Grease a casserole dish. Mix everything up and bake it at 350 for an hour. Or hotter for less. This is a very forgiving and flexible recipe.

Enjoy.