High Holy Days 5784

A Jewish Elder Participating from Home

Now I confess, of all the Jewish holidays, far and away my favorite is Yom Kippur. The music and chanting from centuries of experience reaching deep within one’s soul. Kol Nidre vibrates my very soul within, sung three times, releasing us from on wanted or involuntary vows. The short and longer Vidui or confession, where we confess not as individuals, but as a community. I was looking forward to Kol Nidre this year. I had been asked to write a kavanah or intention leading into HaTefilah or Standing Prayer, in part recited out loud, but then the rest in silence. It precedes the Vidui.

Having just a few years ago conquered a lifetime of stage fright, I was excited to be able to get up there and do my thing. But then life played one of its little tricks. First, I came down with a pesky UTI, just days before the service was to begin. I reached out to my doctor explaining my situation, and while normally I would be asked to come in for labs, she bypassed it and sent in an antibiotic on an emergency basis. So, I figured I could still show for my talk. Well, not so fast. Because I then came down with a nasty upper respiratory infection.

Finally, Saturday, I reached out to Rabbi. I would not be able to be there. Fortunately, there was a volunteer who stepped up and delivered my words beautifully. The Rabbis also offered loving healing prayers which I deeply appreciated. Jazzy, if you happened to read this, thank you ever so much! You were a true lifesaver!

So these High Holy Days were spent at home. I encountered disappointments, but also found blessings along the way. Kind of life though isn’t it. I love my community and life for that matter also this respiratory thing is getting to be a real pain in the butt, truth be told. I’m enclosing the words I wrote below, and on this Yom Kippur, perhaps I should focus on the Malkhut, the Shechinah, that which is real within, where inner peace will lie and where love resides.

A Kavanah for Ha-T’filah

We have, until now been individually absorbed through Elul and Rosh Hashanah, looking within, and making right the wrongs of the past year. Here we come together on Kol Nidre, communally, seeking atonement. In our searches, we made right what could be made right, while knowing our efforts have been imperfect. Here we throw ourselves on Hashem’s mercy as a community, to make right what we could not. We ask for Kapparah, a cleansing of the slate.

Not long ago, I heard a drash by Rebecca Silver of IKAR that resonated deeply with me. She shared that in Kabbalah, Jewish mysticism, each of the Patriarchs were assigned energies, aspects of who they were. Abraham was Cosmic Love, Isaac was Cosmic Scripture, and Jacob was Compassion, where love meets healthy limits. But the Matriarchs? Each in their time, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah each possessed the energy of Malkhut, or the Shekinah – The Divine Presence. That which is most real, and present. The aspect of Hashem which is with us on this earth.

Speaking for myself, there are unreconciled wrongs, things which despite my efforts, made reconciliation impossible. I doubt I am the only one here for whom happened. Tonight, before Hashem, I ask forgiveness.

Together, we pray as community, not individually, for atonement for our wrongs. Praying for each other even if we did not do a specific wrong ourselves. I call on each of us to seek the energy of Malkhut, the energy of the Matriarchs, that which is most real within each of us, as we pray our Standing Prayer, Ha-T’filah. It is a time for each of us to ground ourselves in our reality, our truth as we prepare for Vidui, our confessions. Baruch Hashem.

House of Pain: The Music and the Humor 09.22.2023

How Old Folks Cope

One of the things I and my wife must navigate in our “Golden Years” are regular bouts of pain. How I wish I could take her pain, if only because her threshold for pain is much lower than mine. Plus, she is one of those who won’t go see a doctor.

On occasion, I’ll have a particularly bad day during her bout. I find it interesting that hers occurs daily between 10:00AM and 3:00 PM. What despite it all that I find amusing are the moments when she goes “ah ah” and I’ll begin “mmm mmm”. Eventually the sounds begin to alternate with a chorus of “mmm mmm” “ah ah” in perfect harmony. I begin a gentle chuckle, because often it’s better to laugh than cry. I suppose the next step is to add lyrics.

mmm mmm ah ah
Look at us we’ve come this far.
Turn our pain to a song.
Praying we don’t have to sing too long!

One of the great things about growing old is even in the more difficult moments, we can find ways to extract a smile. It’s been a difficult week for this old soul. Today is Friday and I’m scheduled to give a short talk Sunday night for Kol Nidre. So of course, Wednesday, I come down with a UTI. I reach out to my doctor and explain my situation. Normally they want to do a urinalysis, but considering the tight schedule, we took a chance on getting the right antibiotic. As recently as this morning, I was not sure if it would work, but now it is clear it is.

It will be good to see my friends. It is said that when one grows old, our world shrinks. Besides my wife who is not much on conversation, this social butterfly lives a very solitary existence. A caregiver comes for a two-hour time slot once a week, and we have wonderful conversations, but that’s about it. Though a friend from shul reached out to me last week about coming by for a visit and for that person I am so grateful. But regardless, I try to stay busy and productive. Neither of us drive anymore, so it does get lonely at time.

One thing I’ve noticed is the degree to which my day is planned. So, I’m a late sleeper. Always was, so no surprises there. I arise, do morning prayers, watch videos, and catch news while eating breakfast, then turn my attention to one of several possible tasks, including Talmud study, writing, reading archaeology magazines and journals, plus fulfill any duties connected with my participation as leader of the card team for our caring committee to request and track cards sent. Oh, and any housework needing completion. Then around 3:15 I fix supper. About 4:30 I check Facebook, Tik Tok, and Threads. At 6:15, there is evening prayers, then a replay of one of the Time Team shows. It’s a British series of archaeological digs. It lasted 20 seasons, then recently through Patreon have begun doing new digs in the UK. I’ve seen all the programs, but they are relaxing and each time I rewatch one, I pick up on facts I may have missed before. Then I go to bed at 8PM and watch silly videos until I get sleepy and doze off. Lol rinse and repeat!

If I were more mobile and still drove, I’d go back to my old photography hobby, and spend a lot of time at my synagogue doing volunteer work. But as mentioned before, my world has shrunk. I just realized I had talked about some of this in a previous post. Lol memory loss is a real thing don’tcha know. I think I’ll leave it as is because this description of my routine included more detail. L’shana Tova. May you be inscribed in the Book of Life.

Growing Old...Together 09-10-2023

Twenty-three years ago today, a week before our very public wedding as a same sex couple using a narrow technicality created by Texas courts, Robin and I quietly drove to San Antonio. Our attorney was concerned that the religious wrong as I prefer to call them might get one of their judges to issue an injunction. So, we went over and were married in a quiet ceremony to ensure that we would have a license in hand should such unwelcome news arrive. We, therefore, not uncommon in the lgbtqia+ world, celebrate not one, but three anniversaries. First, Thanksgiving Day, 1999, when she moved in. Then September 10th, the date of our very private marriage, and finally September 16, our public ceremony.

Here we are, 23 years later, still married and still very much in love. We have seen in our years together, good times and hard times. The good times are, well, good. But the hard times are weathered together. Let me share something about me right here. All my life, I’ve been given to song. Not that I can sing mind you. But I create my own songs in my head and sing them out loud, and they actually rhyme. Now why Robin did not leave me the moment she started hearing me sing baffles me to this day. But not only through thick and thin, but also my singing, she persevered. Now that means she really must love me!

So the other day, we were both dealing with a lot of pain. In one room she is going “ugh…ugh…ugh.” Meanwhile in the other room, I’m going “ohh…ohh…ohh.” There was a rhythm to it. And so it was that I did what I’m prone to do. Here’s approximately what came out of my mouth. Approximately, because old age memory is not what it once was:

Growing old… Together (singing)

We are… growing old together.
Whatever pain we may weather,
We weather together
Together forever…

Did I mention I’m doing this in her doorway? She looks at me, my painfilled face looking at her painfilled face and we smile, yes, together. I so wish I could take her pain away, and I know she wishes the same for me. But it is our reality. But I thank heavens every day for a love that has endured the test of time. So, for fun, here’s a poem I wrote sometime after our first date as a couple. Enjoy!

FIRST DATE

Her presence enters mine,
My heart opens in ecstatic shudder
For the prayer of your touch,
Your scent, your voice, you!
Wakening reality your eyes meet mine
Gaze broken by self-conscious flutter
Of lids...blinded by blest closeness and hopeless desire.
I long for the words to come, some words come forth.
Muttered in unconscious babble,
For my senses have fled.
Your eyes twinkle,
no doubt in delight of my discomfort.
Your aura absorbs my desire
And I bask in you!
Through my eyes, you have entered my soul,
Possessing me surely as Hecate might
possess one of her toys,
To be cast aside if she should tire.
And your hand takes mine, oh softer hand
Never known, yet powerful,
Leads me to your world
Sights, sounds, senses. Dazed and powerless
You lead me to such longing for your sweet touch.
As I am possessed, aching need
For my heart's captor grows with each moment.
My soul hushes, your breath touches my lips
Your lips seal the deed.
For if this is not love, who needs love?
You smile, no doubt in your new conquest.
And for that smile, my life is now complete.
In this flurry of sights and sounds
Time respects not our need
And you release me.. yet released I am not.
Instead the craving holds my soul ever captive
For soul has mingled with soul
And peace so desired, can only be known
With you... and I wait...

Jessica Wicks copyright June, 1999

Query Regarding My Last Post 09-05-23

A Friend asks:

What you have written about is something I think about often, Jessica. I puzzle over how some people can experience great discomfort and chronic pain, yet they carry on, and don't even talk about it much. I would like to be that kind of person, but I am SO NOT.

I mentioned two things: 1) carrying on with doing things, in spite of pain, and 2) not talking about it.

I would like to do more, because, well, it's nice to be engaged in life, or so I've heard. But the part about not talking about it... I have only one reason why I would wish to be a person who rarely talks about their pain, and that is because it's hard to be around someone who always does, especially when you can't make it better. I know this because it was common in my family. In fact, there was a lot of sickness that dominated my family and extended family, and I don't recall witnessing models of people carrying on with cheer or meaning in their lives that rose above their discomfort.

I HAVE witnessed this ability in some of my friends, though, and it mystifies me. My last note is related to why it mystifies me. Self-expression. When we're communing with other people, aside from when we're listening -- when we're talking, and we're feeling overwhelmed with physical discomfort, the choice not to express oneself about this very strong experience in the moment, well, that's where I get hung up. Trying to ignore that and talk about something else is what could be called "masking." Masking is a form of self-suppression, employed to try to fit in socially. It is of limited value, particularly in regard to authentic relationship.

So, you see, I'm kind of clueless. How DO you do it? Maybe it's a muscle that needs to be developed. I mean, I can actually understand the part about carrying on with activities better than the part about not talking about ongoing pain. My situation with not engaging more in life is complicated by other issues. But the part about not talking about your pain. How? I need to figure this out before my pain situations become worse or more constant.

p.s. As I read over what I wrote, I can imagine an alternative to "masking." It would be an exercise of will (as in the aforementioned muscle) to focus on something else, tune in and connect meaningfully. But that is something I was able to conceptualize; actualizing it is another matter.

My Response to my friend:

I do have a response of sorts. I'm upfront with what I'm going through at any time. So, on that rare opportunity when I do get to visit someone, here's how I might approach it. They might ask, "How have you been?"

I respond, "Oh I'm fine. I'm dealing with pain, but that's my normal." We might talk a bit more about that, or perhaps move on. I'll ask about them, and then we talk about whatever we are going to talk about it. I guess what I'm saying is, I'm upfront about where I am, I just don't obsess about it.

Another life lesson has been this. I did not do well early on with pain. But when you live with it for a few years, at least I learned to adapt, to be more comfortable with my present reality. I only take my pain meds when I go to bed at night, and I take less now than what I used to. In other words, I've learned to adapt, to be more accepting of my reality. During the day, I have a host of techniques for dealing with the pain. Certain stretches may help, and I use breathing exercises and meditation techniques to get through the worse. Plus, my recliner is just the thing to take the pressure off my spine which helps.

So right now, I'm in my office. It's just the normal pain. I've got a talk to prepare for our Kol Nidre service, so I'll work on it for a time, and perhaps do some other tasks. Over time the pain will build. I'll eat supper at around 3:30 and be in the recliner, iPad in hand or else turn on news from around the world (American news really sucks imho) and chill. At 6:30 I watch a Time Team program on UK archaeology and then in bed by 8. I may not crash but watch vids and let my mind go until I'm ready. Lol my daily routine.

Finally, we all deal with pain in our own way. But the beauty of being human is we find our own ways to cope. I no longer drive, and life is difficult. But I'm not ready to croak. I choose life.

No One Told Me 09-03-23

But If I Had Paid Attention…

So, in my younger years, there was planted an image of what it would be like to grow old. Wrinkles would appear, and getting up would be a bit more difficult. Movement would be a bit slower. But in mind’s imagery, the one thing I left out was the pain which comes with it all. If I would have listened, paid attention, they were telling me all along. But clearly my mind was elsewhere.

It was not like they said it out loud. My Mother of blessed memory (z”l) would chuckle with the old expression, “Those Riter boys are tough, but the toughest of them all is Arther.” A teasing expression about arthritis. A grunt here or a groan there. But Mom was tough as nails. Her arthritis was rheumatoid arthritis, same that my beloved Skip z”l suffered with. But Mom would not take pain meds for her lung cancer until that final day when she died. Heck, she refused Novocain when she had dental work. She had an uncanny capacity to handle pain with it hardly showing.

But, I’m here to put words to that which she did not speak. I live with constant pain. It’s just a way of life for me now. I want to share a story here. Last night I crashed early. Later this morning, I dreamed that I arose out of my wheelchair and began taking steps. It was such a glorious feeling and despite the pain, the dream was allowed to soar and the joy I felt was palpable. For those few moments in dream world, I could walk again! Of course, then I had to awaken. After arising, the pain was very real. To paraphrase the old rhyme, my neck, my back, my sacroiliac! Oh, and the legs and both knees. I had to laugh, telling my wife about the dream, and remarking, “I sure am sore this morning, guess from all that walking.”

The reality is that the pain is real, and we have a choice. I can sit and whine and complain about it (sometimes I do just that if it is especially bad) or simply live with it. As my mother did, and grandparents and all the elders I knew over the years. Most of the time I just live with it and go on. As I bury my head into writing projects, or my current project for our Yom Kippur Kol Nidre service, or a host of other things where I dabble, the pain though there slips into the background and becomes bearable. It is a part of life, but only one part of it.

As I write these words, I realized how blest I am. Yes, I have the pain. Also, my wife is very much an introvert and not a conversationalist. My family is far away and rarely having visitors aside from the caregiver who comes in once a week for two hours. Loneliness is ever present, not uncommon for the elderly. But I have a roof over my head, living mostly independently with a wife who if not much on conversation, nevertheless loves me and I her. Sitting here in my office, I face one window out to the street, and a window looking out to the neighbors who have beautiful flowers that often catch my gaze. My mind is active, and I love research. All to say, I am fortunate to have what I have. As with the pain, why obsess about what I do not have, when there is much to celebrate. Life is a mixed bag, the blessing, and the curse. I choose life. I choose the blessing, even as enduring the curse. Such is life after all. L’chaim!