Matzah in the Sandbox (repost)

I am reposting what I posted around the third day of Passover last year since I have some new readers.  There is no time to write now, but I am experiencing the now annual matzah crumb issue and I am thinking that if Jewish Mamas invented our Jewish celebrations, somehow Passover would have been linked with Sukkah and we would always eat matzah outside,  just like during the #exodus.

  

Nobody wanted to leave the sandbox at lunch time today. With the perfect spring breeze shaking the new Bradford Pear leaves over our heads and the soft afternoon sun warming our cheeks, we were all content to keep playing. Plus, there was a new bucket of plastic sand toys for digging and building. But I was hungry too, so I ran into the house and grabbed a box of matzah.

I have noted the irony of the impressive onslaught of matzah crumbs beginning the moment the house has been cleaned for Passover. The near constant shower of matzah crumbs around my kitchen table has been relentless for the past few days. With two young children, I even found myself sweeping in “real time” with crumbs falling around me and a few directly into the dustpan. Maybe this is another opportunity to remember the bitterness of slavery, I am sure building the pyramids and sweeping up after Egyptians was far more thankless. But for me, I would rather be eating horseradish (which I guess isn’t fair because I do sort of like it).

So, matzah in the sandbox was a welcome change. The crumbs fell and instantly camouflaged into the sand just as the original matzah crumbs must have disappeared on the ground of the Sinai.  And as we were eating, it seemed a perfect time to talk about Passover with my son who spent most of the Seder playing with legos in the next room with his cousins.

He started the conversation. “I love matzah with jam and matzah without jam” he declared.

“Do you know why we eat matzah”, I asked.

“To remember that we are free and that we ran away from the Egyptians.” He said.  Ok, I thought, he absorbed more than I realized during his brief stints at the Seder table.

Then he thought for a minute, raking some sand and asked, “Who was good, Pharaoh or the other one?”

“Moses,” I volunteered, “he and his sister Miriam lead us from Egypt and God helped too.”

He thought about it and asked, “Is Pharaoh still around or did he turn into a skeleton.”  This has become his turn of phrase for describing his new concept of death since we visited the dinosaur museum.

“No, Pharaoh turned into a skeleton long ago.”  I said thinking this is not the time to introduce the mummy concept.

“Then we could stop eating matzah, and go back to Egypt.” he suggested still raking.

“Yes, I guess we could visit Egypt someday,”  I told him.

Then he ate some more matzah and said, “Mom, the matzah is working. It does make me remember.”  And he had a far off look in his eyes, like the matzah was literally giving him memories from someplace far away. What was he thinking about? Were there four year olds who played in the sand in Sinai after crossing the Red Sea.  Or maybe he was remembering something from earlier that day, like when we ate matzah with jam on actual plates at breakfast. Either way, I highly recommend matzah in the sandbox.

The Sukkah Scenario – a guest post

By Scott Hertzberg, (otherwise known as my awesome husband), and originally posted on his blog the Jewish Farmer

Farming continues to attract surprising numbers of young Jewish Americans. Frequently I see articles in the Forward or elsewhere about a recent college grade deciding to take a big turn on to an agricultural path.  Some seem to be making the shift with ease.  For others being attracted to farming leaves them torn in some major ways.

Most Jews I’ve come across who are interested in farming seem conflicted between a desire to live both in the city and the country.  The city has the conveniences, professional employment, social and religious life. The country of course means an escape from the tiny community garden plot and ample land to plant your agrarian dreams.

My wife and I relate all too well. We have lived for a decade on a farm on the outskirts of metropolitan Washington and become well versed in the pros and cons of living outside the city.  Now that we have two small children, the cons have grown as we are really in need of a congregation closer to us.  All types of country people can find themselves wanting to be both in the city and country.  The promise of town after all has forever stirred farm boys.  Yet I think Jews may be more prone to this conflict. Our agricultural yearnings are ancient but are inclination to live close to one another in a centralized place is just as strong.

Sukkot, the wonderful holiday we just celebrated, may offer a solution for some of us.  While sitting back in our sukkah, a guest went over the ancient origins of the hut for us. She explained that back in the day, ancient Israeli farmers lived in towns or villages and worked fields a good distance away.  During the fall, the farmers were so busy harvesting grapes and other summer crops and simultaneously planting winter grains that they simply did not have time to commute every day.  Their solution was to build the temporary shelters in their fields to spend nights until everything was harvested and planted. After that they could return to the village to relax in time for the football season to heat up.

Living in the city or suburbs and working a remote field like those ancient Israeli farmers may be a good choice for many aspiring Jewish farmers.  Walking out your back door to your field is great but the trade-offs might not be worth it.  In or near town, you will be closer to friends, Jewish life, public transportation, and employment for your spouse/partner or both of you. Odds are at least one person in a farm couple will need to work off the farm.  Considering that farming is seasonal, neither of you will have to commute far to work during the winter. Not having to drive about during the off season in what’s left of the American countryside may be the biggest benefit.  Because of sprawl America outside the beltway is full of traffic. There is not a clean break between the city and country like in most other countries. Everyone is out in the former country driving with the farmer.

This choice will also free you up from having to purchase land. Good farm land near cities for rent is much (or double much as my son Ezra says) more plentiful than good land for sale.  Rents average $50 to $120 per acre per season (Not per month!).  Finding a long term lease on “preserved” land that cannot be sold to housing “developers” is also not that difficult.

If there are times during the season when there is just so much to do you can’t spend time driving, then put up that Sukkah and spend the night.  Settling in an outer suburb that still is connected to public transportation is ideal. Silver Spring and Greenbelt near Washington come to mind.  Rent or sale prices will be lower and you will be closer to your fields.

I suggest looking to rent in the counties closer to the city first. You will be surprised how much decent land there is to rent in counties like Montgomery MD, Westchester NY, and where we are in Prince George’s MD.  Contact the local agricultural extension agents, local land trusts and try to keep the commute from your village to Sukkah under an hour.

This option will not work for everyone. Some will be happier living on the farm but the Sukkah Scenario should work for the many aspiring Jewish farms torn between city and farm who are not moving forward with their plans of getting their hands in the dirt.

A Little Shoe Repair with Antique Thread

Those of you imaginary readers who have followed my blog closely from the very start might have noticed that I originally thought I would write a fair amount about sewing.  Sewing was even in my tagline.  When I started this blog, I was in the midst of a sewing obsession that swept through like a passing storm, fast and intense and leaving lots of unused fabric in its wake.  I do still hope to get back to it sometime.

shoe in mid repair

So tonight I was happy to pull out one of my sewing boxes for my first ever attempt at shoe making.  A piece of leather was hanging off one of my favorite shoes.   I pushed these Dansko’s to the limit all summer and then wore them in some wet muddy conditions this fall.  Finally, one of the straps came unthreaded and was hanging off the shoe. Very dangerous, especially since I am often carrying my toddler.

I was so happy to  use some of my great grandmother’s super strong

Aunt Lydia's thread

“Aunt Lydia’s”  brand button and carpet thread.  I was lucky enough to inherit a small stash of thread from her early century New York dry goods store.  I want to  write more about her spools of thread sometime.  She was known for her excellent repairs and family legend says she would fix all the buttons and tears on the local policeman’s uniforms and in turn they kept an eye on her store.   I love looking at the old spools of thread that connect me to her store and the past.

It was actually easier than I expected, since I used the existing holes and a pair of pliers to pull the needle through.  My children were riveted watching and I am quite sure my son will brag about his mother the shoemaker in pre-school tomorrow.    I always feel so good repairing something instead of throwing it away or pushing it to the corner of the closet to gather dust.  The shoes will be a little more special now that they have an imperfect but workable repair — and a bit of thread from my great grandmother’s store.  Lets see how long it lasts!

As good as new -- even a little bit better

I Need a Siren

Another Yom HaShoah or Holocaust Memorial Day came and went last week, and I found myself unprepared to mark the day.  In fact, today we are already on to Israel’s Independence Day — but I seem to be running a bit behind.

Back in high school, I probably read more Holocaust memoirs than was healthy and later I spent quality time at both the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and Israel’s Yad Vashem. In those pre-mothering days, there was plenty of time for reflection. Now as a relatively new mother, museum visits and heavy reading have seriously fallen by the wayside.

Everything about becoming a mother shifted the ground beneath my feet. When I studied the Holocaust in the past, I always connected most directly to the stories of children and young people experiencing the war and the camps. My parents, grandparents and teachers did their best to help me make sense of it.

Now that my perspective has shifted, I am not sure I can bare the stories of parents losing their children. I know I cannot keep my distance from it for much longer though. I think my new mother exemption is wearing thin and I only have a few years before my children will start asking questions. Now that my generation is all grown up, I cannot wait for reminders from parents or community, it is my responsibility now, and it is daunting.

This is a moment when I long to be enmeshed in Jewish community. In Israel, you do not miss Yom HaShoah. Besides being all over the news there is the siren. The whole nation stops for two minutes while a siren plays to remember the victims. Cars actually pull onto the shoulder of highways and everything seems to stop. I never witnessed it but my husband remembers hearing the siren and as he stood outside his hostel in Jerusalem and here is a link to a video which gives a glimpse. Last week, I read this blog post on Kveller which describes the siren and it reminded me that sometimes it is hard to live outside Jewish community and outside of Israel.  I need a community to stand with and lean on as I learn to face this history as a parent. I might be grown up, but I still need mentors and reminders. And once a year, I need a siren.

100 Years Since the Triangle Factory Fire

Today marks the 100th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory fire in New York City, the infamous workplace fire that killed 146 people and resulted in widespread organizing for safer working conditions.  The majority of the victims were young women and Jewish or Italian immigrants many still in their teens. Their names and some details can be read here.

There is great coverage of the event, the aftermath, what we learned and where the labor movement is today in the New York Times, the Jewish Daily Forward, the Nation and elsewhere.  President Obama passed a resolution that said, “The Triangle factory fire was a galvanizing moment, calling American leaders to re-examine their approach to workplace conditions and the purpose of unions.” You can President Obama’s read the entire statement here.   HBO is airing a documentary “Triangle, Remembering the Fire” and this coalition is organizing events around the country.

Like so many Jewish immigrants, parts of my own family arrived in this country and worked in textile factories in New York city,  so this event hits close to home.   And today, with the vast majority of clothing manufacturing  happening overseas, we cannot assume that conditions for workers have improved.   In other industries, workplace safety remains a major concern and sadly events like this continue. I encourage you to read some of the coverage and leave a comment here if you have thoughts on the event or if you see the documentary or attend any of the commemorative events.