I see the light at the end of the carpool tunnel

19 May 2013 5 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in Family, Hawaii, In the car, Mothers and Daughters, Parenting, Rites of Passage Tags: , , ,

MC900367792

I sure felt sorry for my daughter when she got her driver’s permit. Even though she completed all of the requirements virtually by herself, she was still completely dependent on us whenever she wanted to drive.

For six months she had to navigate around town with me, her neurotic Jewish mother, strapped securely next to her in the passenger seat. It was necessary  in order to earn enough hours of practice to take the road test to get her real driver’s license. She was great.

I was a wreck. Nervous Nelly does not even begin to describe my ridiculous barrage of fears and warnings and sharp scoldings that hysterically spewed forth  as she practiced driving safely behind the wheel of our family car.

At first I let her navigate the treacherous three block  drive home from the bus stop after school. My heart pounding, watching in my rear view mirror as she carefully pulled out on to the residential road and I held my breath the entire ride as we crawled along at 25 mph towards our street.

Next, we expanded a full mile to Costco for afternoon errands–taking the back roads the entire way. Eventually we hit the boulevard, with its precarious intersections and lane changes. Finally we embarked on the freeway, allowing her to merge her skills and actually get somewhere on this island besides the bus, the store and school.

It was excruciating–for both of us. I breathed deeply, my anxiety mounting each time we left the house. I apologized as we got in the car for the impulses and fears that I was simply unable to control. She said that it was okay, but I could that tell her feelings were hurt.

I remembered my own mother over 30 years ago, riding next to me, nervously pressing an imaginary brake pedal into the car floor, wearing a spot in the carpeted mat with her irrational fears and distrust of my competence.

Like mother, like daughter. Mine noticed that I grab a tight hold on to the door handle as we approached each intersection or another car dared to drive on the same road as did we.  I thought I was hiding it until one day she remarked with a thin veil of good humor on my nervous habit. Mostly she managed to suck it up with her eyes on the prize–her driver’s license.

Early on in the process her step-father assumed as much of the practice as possible, due to his reasonable and patient nature. She much preferred to drive with him. But in order to log as many supervised hours as she needed behind the wheel, she had to deal with her mother. She deserves a medal.

In a manner of speaking, she got one–her driver’s license.

Last month we took a drive together to Kapolei Hale, this time with an appointment. The examiner called her name and she drove off with this virtual stranger to take the test that, if she passed, would change both of our lives forever.

I was surprised how nervous I was. Who cares about how she felt.  I really wanted her to get her license. Why else would I have tortured myself by sitting in the passenger seat while she drove, danger eminent at every turn, facing my irrational fears deeply rooted in motherhood and a few control issues.

If she got her license I wouldn’t have to ride with her anymore.  It would free up hours of my time usually spent on the road, behind the wheel, taking her back and forth to the multitude of sports and school activities in which she enthusiastically participates. She could drive herself there and back. She could go to the store and pick up last-minute items that our family always seems to need at 8:00 PM, just when I’m ready to relax for a while. She can take her step-sister places too. The possibilities are endless.

With my eyes also on the prize, waiting passed fairly quickly. 20 minutes after departure, the examiner followed by my daughter returned, walking silently back up the hill. She turned her solemn face to me, flashed a quick smile and mouthed, “I passed.”

I can only imagine how great she felt because I was jubilant. I was free! For sixteen years I carted and ferried and carpooled this child to play dates, school, doctor’s appointments, Hebrew classes, social functions, hula practice, softball games, canoe paddling regattas.

It might be said that our relationship  formed and blossomed during all of the time spent together in the car. From out of the womb into the world, from infant seat to booster seat, back seat to front seat, passenger seat to driver’s seat, from drop off to pick up this child has been in tow. My passenger.

And now she can drive herself. It is time. On our way back from the DMV (her driving, me less nervous) I told her in a very stern voice, “You may think that having your driver’s license is your ticket to freedom,” taking a poignant pause for her to think and worry a bit, “but I have to tell you that it really is mine.”

Finally, my days of carpooling and arranging my schedule around hers are coming to a close. I have the option to sleep past 5:30 AM on school days because she is perfectly capable of setting an alarm, getting up herself and driving to the bus stop without me. And she does.

I can go out on a Saturday night without having to be at the ready to pick her up from the football game after the fourth quarter decides to end. If we need her to drive the younger teen to an activity or appointment or party we just have to ask and she is at the ready to oblige (she’d better be!)

It is such a wonderful feeling that I am not willing to taint it with anxious, unnecessary worry. We have safety precautions in place. She is very responsible and careful. It is enough.

I know I am going to miss her and the time we spend together in the car, talking and sharing, not to mention having a captive audience. In the short month she has been driving on her own I have had time to reflect.

I think about the music we’ve shared: CD’s with Sesame Street songs and how she’d sing along  in her sweet toddler’s voice, the Aaron Carter phase, Fergalicious on the radio and recently whatever she blasts from her iPod so I can keep up to date with her and what is trending these days.

There has been a lot of talking: constant chatter and incessant questions from the backseat when she was little, sometimes driving me a bit crazy, after learning to read she read every sign out loud, school gossip and teenage confessions, scoldings and reprimands. Every moment a blessing to bring us to this moment.

I have to admit that the relief still overrides the sentiment, leaving me not with a sense of loss, just a nice warm feeling of satisfaction. And when I miss her just a little too much, all I have to do is invite her to join me for a trip to the commissary or the mall and she is at the ready and willing.

She hops right in that passenger seat, I back out of the driveway and we roll on towards our destination, picking up right where we left off on our mother, daughter journey. And thank goodness that once again, I get to drive.

If you build it, they will come

09 Mar 2013 7 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in Family, Hawaii, Kvell, Parenting, Religion, Rites of Passage, Traditions Tags: , , , , ,

When my youngest sister started calling it the ”Beach Mitzvah” a few months before the big day, the new event title stuck and we’ve been referring to it that way ever since.

That is what it was, a Beach Mitzvah. Our youngest daughter became a Bat Mitzvah last month and the service was held under a tent at Paradise Cove in Ko Olina…. and it was fabulous.

Once all of our mainland guests arrived, all of the details were taken care of and we were finally celebrating this significant rite of passage together with our family and community on the lush green grass, under the warm bright sun, along the crystal clear water of one of Oahu’s most beautiful “Secret Coves,” it is hard to imagine that choosing this venue so that our youngest daughter could perform this particular rite of passage was anything but completely deliberate.

In reality it was an act of compromise that turned out to be exactly what we wanted, a Beach Mitzvah.

It is not uncommon for these important events that are usually planned at least a year in advance to suffer a few setbacks. Caterers screw up, teenagers forget their Torah portions, people  get stuck in traffic on their way to the Synagogue.  It teaches us to focus on what is important and why we come together to appreciate the true meaning of these rituals. Ours was no exception. Luckily for us, the bumps in the road happened long before the Bat Mitzvah date.

Due to forces beyond our control and details on which I will not dwell at this moment, we switched shuls in the middle of her Bat Mitzvah study and preparation. Our new congregation, The Aloha Jewish Chapel (AJC,) is located on Pearl Harbor Naval Base with limited public access. So we had to figure out a way to bring over one hundred people, our family and local community, together for a service outside of this military installation.

Combine that with the fact that our Bat Mitzvah is quite the individual, the idea of a typical reception, a Saturday night party with a DJ and dancing, was not her idea of a fun way to celebrate all of her hard work and study. She preferred a beach party so she could swim and hang out with her friends in the cool water of the Pacific Ocean and also celebrate this paradise that we call home. That part was not a problem for us. We also prefer this type of celebration.

It wasn’t easy coordinating all of the moving parts of this particular piece of our family’s Jewish traditions, but once we “settled” on Paradise Cove, everything fell right into place—kind of like Divine intervention!

When we realized the need to hold the service outside of the chapel, it was the Bat Mitzvah herself who immediately made the connection between the Torah portion she was studying and our choice of venue. In her portion of Terumah, Exodus  25 1-16, G-d tells the Israelites to: וְעָשׂוּ לִי מִקְדָּשׁ וְשָׁכַנְתִּי בְּתוֹכָם,  “Make Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst.”

That’s exactly what we did. We made a mishkan, a sanctuary. We put up a tent with three sides at Paradise Cove. In the front we created a “Bima” by setting a small folding Japanese table that I bought years ago at City Mill on top of a folding 6 foot table and covering each with a table cloth. It ended up creating both a lectern on which to place the Torah and an “Ark” in which to keep it safely covered during the rest of the service.

We placed 120 plastic white chairs under the tent  in a semi-circle facing the Bima, hooked up microphones for sound, brought the Torah from the AJC and voila, G-d was definitely among us.

My sister commented that it’s not very often that the Torah gets to go outside—kind of like a Torah field trip. We decided that it must be enjoying its few moments in the fresh air. We certainly did.  And boy did we celebrate.

In some ways it was not much different than a typical weekend family celebration. We shuttled guests between airport and hotels. We coordinated schedules with 25 out of town visitors. On Friday, we enjoyed Shabbat dinner and Erev Shabbat services with our family at the AJC. On Sunday we had a barbecue at our house  for our family to be together again. And every minute of it was very special.

But I have to say that the Beach Mitzvah was particularly poignant. The pieces of this puzzle transformed so magically and beautifully we couldn’t help but feel the inspiring presence of G-d—in our Bat Mitzvah who’s sweet voice chanting from the Torah reminded us that she chooses to take her place among generations of Jews who have chanted those same words and made similar sanctuaries in their own communities and homes and hearts, in the united pride of parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and siblings and friends and in the sublime paradise of the mishkan we created by the beach on the leeward side of Oahu for our beautiful and wonderful and amazing Beach Mitzvah.

This is how we do it…

10 Dec 2012 4 Comments

Gallery by Being Jewish in Hawaii

Time for a change

24 Nov 2012 4 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in General, Hawaii, Kvell Tags:

If you are reading this, then you have probably noticed the new look. It was time for a change. We are rearranging and renovating the house and yard and the change has done us good. We are enjoying the space anew.

Did I mention that I am going to celebrate my 50th birthday soon. I am embracing the jubilee with a sense of celebration and renewal. I can be a creature of habit and have decided to make change, embrace change, try to change and change it up in any way I can, including the design of this blog. I hope you enjoy it as much as I am.

And the cool thing is, I can always change it again!

Facebook is not a verb

20 Nov 2012 4 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in Hawaii, Kvetching, Word of the Day Tags: , , ,

Please do not Facebook me. It ruffles my English teacher sensibilities.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am  not opposed to interaction in the social media arena, as long as you use good grammar! I have a profile, I update my status from time to time. I check in with my friends and family pretty regularly to see what they are up to. I check on my daughter a lot!

Nope, it’s how you use the word that is the problem. Facebook is not a verb. How can you Facebook me? It’s so “In Your Face.” It sounds almost painful.

Please feel free to contact me on Facebook, through Facebook, with Facebook. I simply request that you do not do it directly to me. Facebook is a proper noun–although I have noticed that all is not always proper on Facebook!

I’m not sure why I have such a strong reaction to this emerging colloquialism. I was not so resistant to googling. In fact, I embraced it. I encourage my children to google stuff all of the time. I even offer to engage with them. “Let’s google it,” I cheerfully say as I walk towards the computer (or ask my teenager to get out her phone.)

I have come to accept that I text, I blog and, if I had it in me, I’d even scrapbook.

I remember once my sister described a friend’s son as being out “Bar Mitzvahing.” That sure sounds like fun. I wish we lived in a place where there were so many Jewish kids that mine were at a Bar or Bat Mitzvah celebration every weekend. I’ll accept that as a verb any day!

Facebooking does not work for me. Never one to judge, I will not comment on how you choose to spend your time or invest your energy. I extend that basic respect towards you (did you know that disrespect is also not a verb?)

I simply request that you reciprocate in kind. Feel free to contact me, but please don’t Facebook me. Like I said before, it makes me uncomfortable.

Mahalo to Ticket Master and Bamp Project

09 Nov 2012 3 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in Family, Hawaii Tags: , , , ,

I’d like to say thank you to Ticket Master and Bamp Project for giving us a refund for the tickets we bought to see Russell Peters on October 27. We couldn’t attend because of the tsunami warning and they gave us our money back. I am impressed.

We purchased our tickets over the phone and planned to pick them up at will call on the evening of the show. It was 7:30 p.m. and we were walking up to the will call window when the phone rang. It was our teenager calling to inform us that a tsunami warning had been issued. They were predicting a severe event. So we got  back in the car and drove home the 35 miles from Honolulu to Kapolei, just beating the traffic from all of the people who were evacuating to higher ground.

Not only did we not want our kids to be home alone at this time, but my husband is also active duty with the National Guard. He would be called to duty in the event of an emergency and we all needed to be prepared. Sure enough, his phone started ringing minutes later.

It couldn’t be helped that we missed the live performance of one of our favorite comedians. We were not expecting to get a refund, but are very pleased that we did.

It’s not like I can call any particular person on the phone and say thanks, because I don’t really know who is responsible for this reasonable act of good customer service. So I will post this somewhat public note of appreciation in hopes that the sentiment will somehow reach them–or at least linger in the universe and create some positive energy for a while.

Anybody who knows me is aware that I have strong feelings about customer service. I think that it should be good, no exceptions. I get it from my mom.

I can remember when I was a kid.  We’d be out shopping  and I’d get so embarrassed when she would sharply suggest to the teenage clerk in a retail store  to stop talking on the phone so that she can please do her job and assist us with our purchase.

That was back in the days when families had one phone at home and communication with the outside world was much more limited. It was long before cell phones and texting, so teenagers would grab any opportunity possible to chat on the phone with their friends–even at work. My mother did not approve.

Of course I can see her perspective much more clearly now that I am a mother myself. And due to my own personal mortification from the increasingly distant past, I can also feel my own teenager, by my side,  shrinking in shame at that moment when we are buying something at a retail store or ordering food at a deli counter and I freakishly morph into my mom.

That same sharp tone magically emanates from my being as I clearly delineate the service that I expect from this representative of whomever is getting my hard-earned cash. And I expect that service sooner, rather than later. In other words, “Stop texting and help me now, please.”

My friend Catherine and I often joke about starting a business and calling it The Customer Service Police. We could drive around Oahu visiting businesses and detecting bad customer service. Once identified, we could offer training for staff to rectify the problem and help their service profile.

Don’t even get me started on customer service over the phone. OMG, talk about frustrating. My experience is that I get a different answer to my customer service question depending on whoever answers the call.

I don’t really blame the people who answer those phones. Most of the time they haven’t had the appropriate training to do their jobs or they have not been granted the level of authority to address my concerns in a reasonable manner. That’s why I always ask for a supervisor.

I find that I am more likely to get a favorable response to a reasonable request when I speak with a supervisor.

With Ticket Master, that wasn’t necessary. When I called, the phone attendant listened to my story and asked me to hold while she addressed the issue. It took her a while. However, she came back on the line a few times to clarify a few details, give me a status update  and humbly ask for my patience while she looked in to the matter at hand.

Eventually she told me that it would take about ten days for a final resolution, but that she thought we were in a favorable position for a refund due to circumstances beyond our control.

It took less than ten days for the refund to appear on our credit card. Now that’s what I call good customer service.

Mahalo Ticket Master.

Hawaii Five-O–a JUBILEE

31 Oct 2012 6 Comments

by Being Jewish in Hawaii in Hawaii, Rites of Passage Tags: , , , , , , ,

I am turning 50 in late December. That’s right, the big Five-O! Let the celebration begin.

I recently learned that a jubilee is actually from the Old Testament. It occurs on the 50th year after seven cycles of seven years.

“This fiftieth year is sacred—it is a time of freedom and of celebration when everyone will receive back their original property, and slaves will return home to their families. “

While the jubilee year is more directly related to fields and property, I feel a different meaning. I am not referring to the slave part, but I can totally relate to this being a time of freedom and celebration. I am making sure that this year is clearly that. I can even stretch the idea  to visiting with my childhood friends and the chance to reconnect to our past as a way of receiving back my original property!

I started this celebration at the beginning of my vacation last summer when I had lunch in New Jersey with my childhood friend Anne Blumenstein, whom I’ve known since 3rd grade, right before her 50th birthday and continued at the end of the trip having brunch with our other friend, Jennifer Lorvick, in Marin County. She turned 50 on April 1–no fooling.

I met Jennifer and Angie for lunch in Santa Rosa in July. Jennifer is to the left of me.

I had lunch with Anne in New Jersey in July.

The three of us were on the newspaper staff together in high school and have remained friends ever since. It’s too bad we couldn’t have lunch all together. But I was happy to eat twice on two different coasts!

It really heated up last week when I traveled to Southern California to join Kathy (Brown) Goetsch, to celebrate her big Five-O. I was not going to miss this one. And I don’t plan to stop this party until the end of the year!

If I didn’t call you while I was in So. Cal., please forgive me. We’ll catch up another time. I am sure that I will be back.

I’ve learned over the years that on these short trips I cannot get together with every friend I’ve ever known when I was growing up. I’ve also found that gathering with groups of them can be somewhat unsatisfactory. While I get to see a lot of people at the same time, we don’t really get a chance to catch up in any meaningful way. The older I get, the more meaning I seek.

On this trip I was very strategic in my choices. Besides Kathy’s big event, I only saw three people who also turned 50 this year: Donna (Freed) Paul, Jon Sherman and Margo (Boston) Ludwig. Let me explain.

Margo and I went to pre-school together. That is how long I have known her. Our parents carpooled and we played. By the time we got to Jr. High we chose different social circles, but the fact that we were classmates in pre-school, McComber Jr. High School, Sunny Hills High School and UCLA makes for a pretty long shared history. We have remained connected.

Outside the delicious Mexican restaurant where I had lunch with Margo.

She  invited me to her party last July, but I couldn’t make it. Our October afternoon together where she lives in beautiful South Laguna Beach totally made up for it.

Then there’s Jon Sherman. Not only did we go to elementary, Jr. high and high school together, but we were passengers together in the infamous Hebrew School carpool of our childhood days!

My Hebrew School classmates from my trip last January. Jon is the one who is right next to me.

One of my mother’s favorite stories was of another parent calling to suggest that if Jon and I did not stop fighting in the back seat that she would no longer pick us up and take us to our weekday afternoon Hebrew study. We were active in Temple youth group together and were generally Jewish together in our home town of Buena Park, California.

Now that I think of it, we were also on our high school newspaper staff together. Hmmmm, I’m starting to detect a theme of carpools and newspapers and Jews. I couldn’t have planned it better.

I have to mention that Jon’s wife Melanie also celebrated her 50th birthday this year. I always enjoy socializing with this couple and catching up, our backseat fighting a thing of the past. I wish I hadn’t forgotten to take a picture!

Donna and I were roommates for several years after graduating from college. Even though we were English majors at UCLA at the same time, we didn’t really connect until later when we were both Sunday school teachers at Temple Emanuel in Beverly Hills and became roommates the summer before I entered the teaching program at UCLA. She still lives in the area and has embraced dancing hula in L.A.!

Donna and I enjoyed a nice afternoon together in downtown Culver City.

And now for the main event: Kathy Goetsch’s 50th birthday celebration extravaganza in Fullerton, California and beyond. We had a blast and it was just like being back in high school.

Our friend Carmen came south from the Seattle area so that we could celebrate together. Kathy’s husband, Billy, hosted a party in Kathy’s honor and many other childhood friends showed up.

Carmen, Kathy and me in Kathy’s backyard before                 her 50th birthday party.

Jody (Cheechov)  Nolan was there. I’ve known Jody longer than I’ve known Kathy. We were in the same girl scout troupe and all cruised together in high school. Kathy and I were in her wedding many moons ago.

High School Reunion in Kathy’s backyard at her  50th birthday party: Carmen, Kathy, Jody and me.

Lori Goetsch came too. She’s Kathy’s sister-in-law and I knew her before I knew Kathy. Did I mention that Kathy’s husband was classmates with my older sister and we grew up down the block from each other?

Kathy’s sister-in-law Lori Goetsch is also a childhood classmate of mine. We were on the swim team together in elementary school.

The party was a great success and we ladies got up on Friday morning, packed our bags and headed for Long Beach where we boarded the Catalina Express to spend a weekend together talking story, eating lots of awesome Mexican food, listening to music, drinking a bit too much, sharing old memories and making new ones.

The ladies before boarding the Catalina Express.

Catalina Island

Colleen, me, Kathy and Carmen at a jazz concert in Catalina.

Las chicas at the cantina. At least by age 50 we are certainly old enough to have an adult beverage or two….

When I say it was just like high school, I really mean it. Carmen’s laugh is just the same, coming just a few seconds behind the rest. Kathy won’t stop teasing me–even if I’m not laughing anymore. Jody still loves her cats and we all have a great time together. We may have married, matured, had kids, got new cats, but fundamentally these ladies have not changed. That’s what makes it so cool.

We had fun together then and we have a great time together now. We care about each other and take care of each other. It is such a pleasure to reconnect and quite reassuring to realize that I chose such wonderful friends in my youth that are totally worth hanging on to.

I can’t wait to spend the next 50 years enjoying their friendship.

Previous Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 167 other followers