Daily Archives: February 9, 2010

Fave Tweet of the Day

Bookmark and Share

Tznius Question

Why is it that it seems more tzanuah (modest) to wear thin tights / pantyhose under a skirt, than to wear jeans or sweat pants under the same skirt? I would be so much warmer wearing my jeans underneath and they don’t cling quite as much as panty hose does. Up here on the frozen tundra we need to stay warm.

I know, it’s probably the whole begged ish (men’s clothing) thing with the trousers, which personally I do not completely agree with especially as these days women’s trousers are made specifically for them which in my opinion totally negates the begged ish argument. I won’t wear pants by themselves out of the house due to tznius (modesty) issues, but why can I not wear them under my skirt to walk to the local store?

Bookmark and Share

Introspection

Today I have yahrzeit for my dad. It’s been seventeen years since he departed this earth, in his mid-forties. It’s just always such a strange day for me. It’s hard not to wonder about what might have been. My folks were divorced since I was a little kid, we stayed in England, and my dad ended up living in Monsey, NY at the time of his passing. Small world. As I have written before, we didn’t have much of a relationship. I spent much of my teenage years angry with him, blaming him, not wanting to see him. I guess much of that is typical for a girl of that age dealing with those issues.

I spent his last five weeks with him. I’d like to feel that, even though he wasn’t conscious, we made our peace with each other. However I do feel cheated. I never got the chance to talk to him as an adult. He never got the chance to walk me down the aisle, or to hold any one of his 15 grandbabies. He never got to experience his kids as grown ups and to shepp nachas from us. He lost out, big time.

My dad was married twice and had 5 kids. I was from his first marriage and the only daughter. From everything I have read little girls are supposed to have a bond with their daddy, be daddy’s little girl. I never had that and I feel that I missed out. What would that have been like, I often wonder. I would listen to songs like Butterfly Kisses and cry because I hadn’t had that. It hurt. Perhaps my Dad couldn’t relate to the girlieness as he was so surrounded with boys. We didn’t really have girls in the family. I was the first on his side in several generations. Now BH we have plenty girl children amongst the grandchildren. (Not mine, interesting how that works). Or perhaps he just couldn’t relate to kids at all. I will never know.

In the summer we celebrated “Squiggy’s” barmitzvah. Squiggy was named for my Dad, and I wrote about the conflicting emotions leading up to that auspicious day. This child reminds me of my Dad – the way he looks (their baby pictures are almost identical), and some of his behaviour. There is so much in a name and this kid is such a Sabo!!

One wonders, though, if he had lived, what kind of relationship would we have now with each other. Would we have been able to move forward, leave the past in the dust, and forge some kind of adult relationship? Can that happen? It’s just weird how now I am moving to his last city of residence and he isn’t there. People still remember him, and I have been asked a time or two if I am his daughter. Even that is weird for me, because most of my life I felt like I was my mother’s daughter only. After all, she did raise me and did a damn fine job if you ask me.

So many disjointed thoughts are going through my head. I remember the funeral. We held it at a cargo bay at JFK as he was to be laid to rest in Israel. I remember the forklift truck picking up his coffin to transport it to the airplane and I tried to run after it to stop them. I was 19 and I was in such pain. I wanted them to bring my Dad back. It just seemed so undignified. I sat down on the floor amongst all the pallets and boxes and howled. The rabbi made me stand up so he could do kriah. He told me to accept the fact my dad was dead. Hard words, but necessary. At the other end of the plane journey my brothers met his coffin and escorted him to his final resting place. I will always regret not getting on the plane and travelling to Israel for the second funeral. I needed the closure of seeing his body being placed in the ground. I have since visited his grave site, where 4 years after losing his only child my dear Saba (grandfather) was buried next to him, and where only three years later we buried my dear Savta (grandmother) next to him. My father was sadly joined by his second wife two years ago, also taken tragically early in the prime of her life. So much loss, so much sadness. I take comfort in my children who bring so much joy to my life, in my husband who completes me in a way I never thought possible.

I must look to the future and not dwell in the past. But today I honour my father’s memory as without him I would not be here today.

Rest in Peace.

Bookmark and Share

Men and Flowers

The KoD asked me to write this post, I guess to show him he is not alone with the way he feels.

I am not a high maintenance woman (although I would love to be), but I do appreciate the occasional gift of flowers and chocolates. I have a friend whose husband buys her flowers for every Shabbat. While that is lovely – it isn’t a surprise anymore, and she comes to expect it. I don’t want that. I would like to get flowers on special occasions and occasionally just because.

Late last year I sent the KoD flowers on the anniversary of when we met. I wanted to do something nice for him, and being so far away my options were limited. I was also a little peeved that he hadn’t bought me flowers in the longest time unless I had specifically asked. I hate coming right out and saying – can you buy me flowers next Tuesday because of such and such. It takes the romance right out of it. So I ordered a lovely flower arrangement, that came with 2 mugs nestled together saying YOU and ME on them. Not too feminine at all.

He called me up, thanked me very much, and then asked me to never send him flowers again. “It’s MY job” he says “to send YOU flowers”. Exactly! Eureka! I got the reaction I wanted. So why can’t you blimmin’ well send me flowers then when it’s appropriate? Point was made. Or so I thought. Sigh. (Hey KoD, Feb 15th is a HUGE day for us….hint hint…..snicker)

Anyway, KoD says it is not becoming of a male to enjoy receiving flowers from his woman. He posits that most men would not enjoy or appreciate their wife giving them flowers. I say this is total hogwash. So I turn it over to you, dear reader, for your opinion. Play Nice.

Bookmark and Share