Lessons My Dad Taught Me

Several times recently, my eldest daughter has expressed her desire to do everything she possibly can. She wants to make the best use of every single second of the day. She does not want to waste even an hour of her precious time.

I can understand that. I used to feel the same way. To be honest, I still do.

When I was in high school, we read Walden, by Henry David Thoreau. One line burned itself into my memory: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity."

Even then, I understood how precious, and valuable, time is to us. I knew that wasted time is lost forever and how we use our time affects the very fabric of our being.

I remember the day when I came face to face with the fact that I can not do everything.

I was a sophomore in college and I could not figure out how to juggle two conflicting activities, both of which I really wanted to do.

I called my father.

I knew my father, the man who could solve any problem in the world, could help me solve this one.

I sat on my bed, and explained why it was imperative that I find a way to do both activities (neither of which I can remember now).

After listening patiently, my father's response was straight and to the point: "you cannot do both."

"But Daddy...." I pleaded, needing him to understand, needing him to to solve my dilemma!

He understood.

Now he needed me to understand.

There are times in life when we cannot do everything we want, no matter how hard we try; sometimes we have to choose.

The most difficult choices in life are not between right and wrong -- those choices are easy; the correct decision is clear. The most difficult decisions are choosing between right and right.

It has never been easy for me to give up something that I want to do.

Perhaps the hardest part of cancer, for me, is the additional limitations that it places on my time and energy.

I want to do more, not less.

I have never been good at accepting my limitations.

To this day, my father admonishes me for trying to do "too much."

Once, my father sat with me, and tried to help me create a schedule out of all that I wanted to do and all that I needed to do.

There were not enough hours in the day to do everything.

My father thought the conclusion was obvious: I have to cut things out of my "to do" list.

My solution: throw out the schedule!

I do not want to "slow down."

I have to, but I do not want to.

Like my daughter, I want to do everything that I can.

Perhaps it is folly.

Which brings me to the second quote that burned itself into my memory in high school: "And still I persist in wondering whether folly must always be our nemesis." (Edgar Pangborn)




Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Regret & Relief

My parents left last Monday night.

I am always sad when they go.

I woke up Tuesday morning and the house seemed so quiet.

For weeks, when I woke up, I saw my Mom or Dad, sitting in the kitchen or dining room. Now, the house seemed empty without them.

My dad was really sick almost the entire time he was here.

These days, when my dad comes to Israel, he does not really vacation. He spends most of his time working on his computer. Still, we spend all the "in-between times" together. We eat our meals together, and talk when he has a few minutes of down time (like when he's waiting for a file to download). And, of course, we spend Shabbatot and Chagim together.

One of the things both my sister and I really look forward to is cooking with our father. Working with my dad, on anything, is always fun. Whatever he does, he does with energy and a positive attitude. My dad can turn eating a humus sandwich into an adventure. ("Wow, look at that beautiful tomato! That is going to taste absolutely fantastic on this sandwich!") His enthusiasm is contagious!

My dad did almost no work this visit. Do not be fooled; that is not a good thing.

When I realized my dad was not doing any work, I realized he must be REALLY SICK. I felt so bad for him. And I felt pretty sorry for us. I did not get to work on any of the small projects that I planned to do with my dad.

Ever since I was a little girl, I was "daddy's helper." My dad is colorblind, so when he would build electrical things, I would sit at the table and help him sort through the diodes and resistors, which were all color coordinated. To this day, there is nothing I like more that to build/fix something with my dad. I had all sorts of small jobs for us (attaching a light fixture, hanging up mirrors, etc). Nothing too big, or time consuming. Just some small, but very helpful, tasks that we could do together. Needless to say, we did not get to do any of them.

The second best thing I like to do with my father is play Pente. We did get to play, a bit. But he was so sick (and out of practice), that I beat him almost every game. We are, more or less, evenly matched, but he really is better than me. So, if he were just out of practice, we should each win about half the time. I was winning a lot more than that, and it just was not fair.

One good thing about having my dad here is that he helps make sure I treat my mom right.

Overall, I had a good visit with my mom. I tried really hard to behave well and, for the most part, I think I succeeded. (We'll have to ask her what she thinks!)

Unfortunately, my mom spent a lot of the visit being worried about my dad. And then, towards the end, my mom got sick too! So, she was almost as much fun as my dad! (Not!)

When I was a kid, my dad almost never took vacation. On the rare occasions that he did, he almost always got sick. It was almost like a bad joke. So, when it happens nowadays, we all laugh at it. Despite their being sick, we did have some nice times. And we did share stories and laugh about all sorts of things.

The house is certainly quieter, now that they are gone. And there are less people to worry about (less food to cook, less dirty dishes, less laundry, etc).

In some ways, I am glad they are gone. At the same time, I wish they were still here.

I miss my parents a lot.

When my parents arrived, my kids (read: my daughters) had their beds all set up, including moving in an extra bed frame, a box spring, and a mattress, into my youngest daughter's room.

By the time I got home from the airport, the girls had moved everything back (and changed the sheets).

In that simple action, they erased my parents' presence. My parents disappeared, without a trace.

Life went "back to normal" (at least, as normal as it ever gets around here).



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Like Father, Like Daughter II

"Do you think we should watch Star Trek tonight?" I questioned Moshe, "We won't get home until close to 9:00..."

We had a wonderful Shabbat at Moshe's parents, but we were slow to leave, and the kids still hadn't eaten supper.

"It's a powerful motivator, for the kids to get ready quickly," Moshe replied.

I couldn't argue with that.

Uncertain about what in our cupboard could be prepared & eaten quickly, I suggested we pick up a pizza on the way home.

Done.

We settled in to watch "Cold Front", which continues a major arc story.

As the episode neared its end, Y protested: "it can't end here, the story isn't over!"

But the episode was, and Moshe quickly ushered the kids to bed.

As he was about to sing them to sleep, Y thanked Moshe for the pizza and Star Trek.

"Pizza and Star Trek," Moshe repeated, "what can be better than that?"

To which, A suggested: "What about coke and air conditioning?"


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA