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Not an Ordained Rabbi

Temple Beth-El in Hornell, NY, had a celebration to recognize its inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places on Sunday, October 9, 2016. The building itself is not impressive to look at. It is “Minimal Tradition” in style, and small compared to what the mind thinks of when it hears the word temple, or synagogue. As we learned in the dedication yesterday, it’s not what the building looks like, it’s the people who make its heart beat that are important.

There were thirteen of my husband’s family there because their grandfather was instrumental in making the congregation a thriving entity back in the ’40s when there was a large contingency of Jewish people living in Hornell. Today, that is not the case. The Temple is only open for the fall High Days, Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur.

Since the year 2000, the services have been led by a teacher from a Jewish school in Washington, D.C. We call him our visiting Rabbi, but he will tell you, “I’m not ordained.” We still call him Rabbi out of respect and love. My husband and I had the privilege of having him stay in our home Saturday night and taking him to the event on Sunday. We do not keep a kosher home and I was concerned about what to feed him. Somewhere in the conversation we remembered from sharing other meals with him, that he doesn’t eat meat, and he loves fruit. I relaxed a little.

The question in our modern world of travel is always, will the plane be on time. He was supposed to arrive at 11:30pm Saturday evening. Well, that turned into 3:00am Sunday morning. When we got back to the house, Paul had a meal of fresh fruit, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, peanuts and three peanut butter cookies. He did join us for a cheese omelet late Sunday morning.

The celebration was a HUGE success. The Temple was full to almost overflowing. A sight to behold when you know what it looks like on a high day. A few people did a lot of work to make the registration happen. We are proud to be a part of the heart beat. So what’s the point of all this? Our cousin took our “Rabbi” back to D.C after the service. Before they left, he whispered to me, “What do I feed him? Can I stop at a restaurant?” I laughed, relieved to know I wasn’t the only one with that question. I had packed them a bag with fruit, hard-boiled eggs, and cookies, but I meant it as a snack. I’ll have to find out if they stopped someplace.

We appreciate that Paul leads our services every fall. You ought to hear how fast he can speak Hebrew! [Note; he looks nothing like the above picture and doesn’t wear a collar.]

10/10/2016 0

We Eat That on Purpose

Do you like moldy cheese? Not the kind that isn’t supposed to be discolored, but that beautiful blue color we look for on purpose to add to the Italian dressing on a tossed salad; you know, that costs anywhere from seventy-five cents to almost two dollars extra in a restaurant. My husband and I do. We also go to the public market to get a good deal on five-year old extra sharp cheddar cheese. Yum. My kids call it “stinky feet” cheese!

One advantage when you like moldy blue cheese comes when you are at a large party at a convention center or other large party place. It’s usually the cheese on the big cheese and cracker tray that is chosen least, so you can get your fill without a fight. The only problem is it sometimes leaves a sour lingering aftertaste in your mouth. The solution to that is another glass of good wine. After all, it is a party.

I’m an old-fashioned wife, I still get up every work day morning with my husband and make his lunch while he showers. It is always a salad; we buy those ingredients at the public market too. The topping changes each day. It could be tuna, beef, salami, left over Chinese, herring, salmon, chicken, whatever protein I can come up with. The dressing is most often a homemade balsamic vinaigrette. The cheese is alternated, Blue one day, and sharp cheddar the next. He’s not a fussy man, and will eat most anything, that’s a blessing. The only time I hear a complaint is when I forget the moldy cheese, or the onions!

10/09/2016 0

Chasing a Little White Ball

If my father were still alive and I showed him the above picture, he would say it looked like a cow pasture. It does, sort of, compared to Augusta National in Georgia. I’ll add a picture to show you. Now that’s a golf course!

Do I play? No, but watching is something I used to do with my Dad, and I now do with my husband. When visiting my son and his family, he puts golf on the TV so we stay longer. What is the obsession with chasing a little white ball? I don’t have a real answer, but for me it would have to do with being outside, admiring the beauty of the course, the serenity of the location and the wildlife that would live there. I think it also has something to do with camaraderie, a few cold ones, and trying to beat your all time lowest score or that of your buddies. You know, like trying to beat yourself on a video game or at solitaire.

We just lost Arnold Palmer. His followers were called Arnie’s Army. His biography is one of my all time favorite reads. He and his wife owned a golf course and had 30 year plus employees. That’s a sign of a good boss. His competition with Jack Nicklaus, Greg Norman and Gary Player were as much fun to watch as Tiger, Phil, Rory and Bubba are. I age myself. Tiger is already out of the picture and four years from now, Phil will be able to go to the senior tour.

The Ryder Cup finished on Sunday with a win for the U. S. for the first time in eight years. That is a team competition between U. S. players and European players. Every two years it is played here and then two years later someplace in Europe. It is meant to enhance patriotism, be fun but still respectful, and make the guys work as a team instead of individuals. [When it’s on, we don’t do anything else. Well, we did go to my granddaughter’s birthday party yesterday, but we watched it there while watching the presents being opened.] The costumes in the crowd are noteworthy, and the rowdiness is a little out of control. I would love to see it in person just once, but you get the whole picture if you watch it at home.

In our area, during the golf season there is a fund-raising tournament on almost every course on every Monday. It doesn’t matter how well you play as long you can donate money to the cause. I volunteer at a couple of tournaments and enjoy the day among the people and the lush green lawns and beautiful flowers and trees. The little white ball I leave to the others.

10/04/2016 0

Do Only Girls Name Their Cars?

It’s National Name your Car Day. After seeing the picture supplied, I asked my husband if guys name their vehicles like females do. He said, “Yes, usually a girl’s name.” Funny, I call my vehicle a girls name, even if it’s a small pick-up (in my past) or an SUV. The name? Becky. I had wanted to name my daughter that after her late grandmother.

Way back when, the early ’60’s, my mother had a hand choke, stick shift Ford Falcon. She never did get the hang of how far out to pull the hand choke or when to push it in. She often flooded the engine and we would go back in the house and wait till she could try again, about twenty minutes. Once she got it going, shifting was another headache. That clutch was her nemesis for as long as we had the car. She never became proficient in letting the clutch out and giving it enough gas at the right time. She called the car Buckin’ Jenny. The seats of that car were the normal upholstery fabric. I don’t know whether it was Mom’s, Dad’s, or the salesman’s suggestion to have heavy clear plastic covers added. I hated those covers. In hot weather my skin stuck to them and in cold weather they never warmed up no matter how long you sat in the same spot. I don’t miss that car, but I sure remember it. Mom’s next car was a Candy Apple Red Ford LTD. We called that one Candy. It was big, plush, and an automatic.

When my older sisters started driving Dad came home with a huge, yellow and black Lincoln with tail fins. I think it was a 1959 model. His thought process was if they got in an accident, they wouldn’t get hurt. Mom called the car, “Goldy”, but my sisters friends called it “Bumblebee”. It was recognized throughout the area so my sisters didn’t get away with sneaking anywhere.

My husband and I gave up the Harley when his back and knees gave out. We now have a six speed, Mini Cooper Convertible. When we picked it out, there was a blue, white and red one lined up in a row. We pointed at the red one at the same time saying we wanted something fun. I’ve never had a car that handles corners like this one does, and it really scoots along with little effort. I enjoy driving a stick; I’m proud that I can. We call it, “The Toy”. Maybe in honor of National Name Your Car Day, I’ll go give it a bath.

10/02/2016 1

Double Bubble and Baseball

Today is National Mulled Cider Day. I had intended to write about that yummy, refreshing cider that you simmer on the stove with orange peel, cinnamon, nutmeg and any other spice of your choice to fill the house with scents of fall and then enjoy the hot spicy flavor as it trickles down your throat, maybe accompanied by a fried cake doughnut, but Chewing Gum has much more interesting facts.

When I was a kid we had to choose between Double Bubble or Bazooka if we wanted a chewing gum to make big bubbles with. I have a lot of hot air, I was good at big bubbles. Used to drive my mother nuts. “If you are going to chew gum, KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED!” I’ve become her, there is nothing more irritating to me than someone chewing gum with their mouth open and cracking it with every chew. If I owned a retail store or a sports team, my employees would not be allowed to chew gum while on camera or while taking care of a customer. In the dugout, or on the bench would be allowable. According to the following facts, chewing gum is a stress reliever. I’ll accept that, my rules would stay the same.

Various forms of chewing gum have existed since the Neolithic period. In 2007, a British archeology student discovered a 5,000-year-old piece of chewing gum which was made from bark tar with tooth imprints in it. Presumed to be the oldest piece of chewing gum, it was found in Kierikki, Yli-li, Finland. Made from bark tar, the gum was believed to have antiseptic properties and other medicinal advantages.

Many other cultures chewed gum made from the resin of the mastic tree, from plants, grasses, and other resins.
In 1848, John B. Curtis developed and sold the first commercial chewing gum which was called “The State of Maine Pure Spruce Gum”.
Around 1850, a gum made from paraffin wax was developed and surpassed the spruce gum in popularity.
December 28, 1869, William Semple filed an early patent on chewing gum, patent number 98,304.
Studies show chewing gum helps improve memory, reduce stress and increase alertness.
Chewing sugar-free gum improves overall oral hygiene while also helping to curb cravings and improving digestion.

Do you know if you ever get lost in the woods and are thirsty or need to freshen your mouth you can take a wad of pine pitch off a pine tree and chew it. If you happen to swallow it, it will pass through like other things do. The myth that gum stays in your intestines is not true. Have a colonoscopy and you can verify that.

Back to baseball. There are less than five games left of the regular season, then the playoffs, and finally the World Series. If you notice when they show the dugouts, where the teams sit for you non sports people, there are plastic buckets of Bubble Yum. The players seem to always be chewing on something. I have even seen them popping a big bubble all over their face and trying to get the gum off before their next at-bat. Keep in mind, they are mostly between the age of 20 and 40. (How they chew those sunflower seeds and spit the shells, I haven’t mastered.)

I should also mention Black Jack, Juicy Fruit, Spearmint, Dentyne, Big Red and Teaberry gum. You have to be my age to remember some of those. They weren’t good for blowing bubbles, and they lost their “flavor on the bedpost overnight”.

Afterthought….my husband’s favorite baseball team clinched their division. He’s now rooting for best record. Then we’ll move on to football coaches chewing their cud!

09/30/2016 0

VFW or Coffee? Why Not Both?

September 29, is National VFW Day and National Coffee Day. It was hard to choose which to write about, so I decided to do a little of both.

The VFW was established on September 29, 1899, by a group of veterans from the Spanish-American War and the Philippine Insurrection. It has since grown to be the nation’s largest group of combat veterans. They continue “to honor the dead by helping the living.” The VFW promote patriotism, good will and youth scholarships. They also provide military assistance and community service programs, promote youth activities and volunteer many hours in their local communities.

VFW membership since its inception has been instrumental in the establishment of the Veterans Administration, the creation of the national cemetery system and passage of the GI Bill. Through the VFW, veterans honor veterans and serve their communities. On National VFW Day, take a moment to recognize all the VFW does in your community.

I borrowed those two paragraphs from the National Day of calendar because I wanted to share the background of the organization and what it does. The one common statement I keep hearing in the Veteran’s Writing group I attend is that the military is a brotherhood, in combat you take care of the guy next to you because you have to and he does the same for you. People that have never served will never understand that brotherhood and when a military person leaves service that is often what they miss most, someone they can talk to that “gets it.” The VFW provides that unified group working together for the good of others. The American Legion is another brotherhood of veterans. They have my utmost respect and you can bet they all stand at attention when the National Anthem is played!

On to coffee…before someone doth protest….American’s are obsessed with coffee, why do you think we have a Starbuck’s, Dunkin Donut’s, and Tim Horton’s on every other corner. And we all know about McDonald’s extra hot coffee. Personally, I make mine at home and take it with me. I’d rather spend five dollars on a single serving of ice cream. We all have our priorities.

May I suggest, to celebrate VFW Day and Coffee Day, you share a cuppa with a vet and say, thank you.

09/28/2016 0

Sue Spitulnik

Writing, Sewing, Travel, and Thoughts

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