The Woman with Many Shopping Bags

On a busy Jerusalem thoroughfare, I spotted a lady about to get on the bus.  She caught my eye because of the amount of bags she was carrying – no less than ten. She must have come directly from the shuk and couldn’t seem to maneuver with them. A kilo of tomatoes, another of salatim (humus and tehina of course), cucumbers, chicken and fresh challot for shabbat. How was she possibly going to get on that bus with all of those bags? As she fumbled for her Rav Kav, I heard the voice of legendary Israeli folksinger Arik Einstein through my earbuds and I began to beam with joy.  The happy tune of Giveret im Salim became the soundtrack for the scene:

לאוטובוס נכנסת גברת עם סלים, תראו איך היא תופסת את כל הספסלים: על ספסל אחד - סל עם לחמניות, על ספסל אחר - סל עם עגבניות, על ספסל אחד - סל עם גרעינים, על ספסל אחר - סל עם מלפפונים, על ספסל אחד - סל עם מרגרינה, על ספסל אחר - סל עם חומוס טחינה, על ספסל אחד - סל עם כל מיני, על ספסל אחר - סל עם עיתוני. וכו'

Onto the bus A woman with baskets, Look how she’s taking up All the benches: On one bench - A basket with bread rolls, On the other bench - A basket with tomatoes, On one bench - A basket with sunflower seeds On the other bench - A basket with cucumbers, On one bench - A basket with margarine, On the other bench - A basket with Hummus and tahina, On one bench - A basket with all sorts of things On the other bench - A basket with newspapers. Etc

 

Miraculously, the woman managed to heave those heavy bags onto the bus and took up about three seats. I, on the other hand, stood on the sidewalk, trying desperately to hold myself back from dancing with joy.

It had been twenty years since I had last heard that fun children's song. Our high school Hebrew teacher, G'veret Taylor, had taught us the lyrics as our Friday treat so we would be excited about Hebrew language and Israeli culture. She also used song to demonstrate practical applications of verb tenses and idioms.

This particular song is a good didactic tool. The common food terms, the present tense, and it's fun and rhythmic; the words so simple. But back then, we hardly understood a word of it, and I for one, certainly couldn’t comprehend why a grown woman was schlepping around her groceries in baskets from an open-air market. 

As I stood watching this woman come out of the Jerusalem shuk, I realized that music has an amazing power that can awaken vivid memories. (See, for example, "Music Brings Memories When Words Fail” about nursing home patients’ reactions to hearing music from their younger days.) Yet, it also is a potent tool for foreign language learning and, more importantly, retention. In my case, what amazed me was that I recalled every word after not hearing the song for nearly two decades.

When my bus finally arrived, the driver noticed my joy. As I scanned my Rav Kav card, I mentioned randomly how much I like Arik Einstein. “The radio has been playing his music all day”, he said, “it’s his first yahrtzeit. Gone too soon.”  I had not realized it had been a year already.

"He’s a legend in my book,” I tell him. He agreed.

As years go by, I have picked up phrases just from listening to Hebrew music. There’s a unique rhythm to each language that gets the cerebral “wheels turning”, if you will. When I want to refresh my Spanish skills, I put on some good Spanish music to get into la ritma de espanol.

To improve your Hebrew language skills and enjoy it at the same time, here are some recommendations:

1)      Listen to Israeli radio often. And if I had a television, I would watch Israeli television often, too. Hearing the language on an ongoing basis will acclimate you to the sound and rhythm of the language and will make you accustomed to hearing certain phrases which you can then repeat and try out on your own. Personally, I recommend Galgalatz, which combines contemporary American pop with Israeli music so it keeps my attention piqued.

2)      As you listen to Hebrew, try to concentrate on the rhythm and the sound patterns. A ר in Hebrew is not the same sound as a R in English or in Spanish. Try to imitate some of the words, but don’t get frustrated if it is difficult to imitate the sound precisely; just do your best. 

3)      Once you have identified a song that you enjoy listening to, hum it to yourself and then find the corresponding video on youtube. The visuals will give you some context about the storyline of the song, and you can also see and hear how the singer pronounces certain words and sounds.

4)      Jot down some of the words as you hear them.  You will likely have to listen to the song many times until you’re able to discern the words. It would be even more helpful to go over the song with someone who speaks the language and practice the word or phrase over and over again.

5)      Once you can pronounce it with some semblance of confidence, be sure to use the word of phrase that very same day in a natural environment: on the bus, in the supermarket, on the phone, etc. Find reasons to speak if you have to. ("The weather is beautiful today, yes?")  And yes, you’ll probably have to listen to the song or at least hum to yourself to recall the vocabulary words. Once you use it on your own volition, it will come more naturally to you.

6) Remember to keep practicing! No matter how many Israelis insist on you speaking English - you have to be tough and insist that it's crucial for you to practice Hebrew! 

The woman with all those grocery bags brought worlds together. Arik’s song, once just a foreign, almost invented scene for me, came to life, and I reflected on how grateful I was for having a dedicated teacher who instilled a passion for Hebrew in me, for having the opportunity to see this scene live, and to finally understand Israeli music without a dictionary. 

 

Memorializing Friends

When I was in high school I felt that documenting my life was one of the most important things I could do. I took pictures wherever I went and bought plain photo albums, filling about 4 of them with pictures from my teenage years. I decorated the covers with magazine clippings, making montages with all-things grunge, like Doc Martens, quotes from Pearl Jam and Nirvana, and phrases like “inspire”, “friendship is forever”, “no to conformity” and the like. The puff paint has worn away on the covers, but there’s still enough residue to make out the part that says: ”My Life (fill in the year)”. 

My dream back then was to open up the albums at some point in the future, and look back wistfully at a time when we were happy, inspired, principled; when we saw the world as if every avenue was open to us. I imagined going through the pages with my children, sharing stories of my adolescence.

Yet those photo albums have been on the same shelves for years; unopened, not shared. There’s even a thin layer of dust on some of them.

My Life: 1996. Grunge photos are on the back!

I may have fantasized about all possibilities that the future held for us, but I never imagined that what would bring me to open up the albums would be the death of one of those friends.  

Reva passed away suddenly about a month ago, a young woman of about 37, daughter, sister, wife, mother of a beautiful toddler. Her death has shaken me…awoken me from my metaphorical slumber.

We had not kept in touch for years, but I thought of her often. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t a Facebook user (she always did like her privacy), so I didn’t receive many updates about her life. Yet her death brought together a once close-knit group from high school who are now scattered across the world. For a small group that once shared a one-room synagogue and one small hallway that comprised our high school (yes, our school and shul were that small.), the distance that now separates us is tremendous.

Last week, we relied on an online memorial ceremony to gather together, sharing memories of Reva. How ironic to use an online social networking tool to remember a friend who valued her privacy offline. Friends recounted a vibrant young woman who was dedicated, principled, loved to question and share ideas. She didn’t see the value in small-talk; she thrived on making real friendships based on deep, authentic conversations.

This online memorial was actually the second one I participated in this summer. In early August, we commemorated the first yartzeit of Ayala Pamela, another friend of mine and young mother who passed away at the age of 40 from breast cancer five weeks after her diagnosis. Her illness spurred groups around the globe to pray on her behalf, yet within five weeks, she left this world for a loftier one. (For those curious, we used Google Hangouts and Skype.)

These were two simple, deeply soulful women who had strong, authentic friendships. Both of the memorial ceremonies included friends who logged in from their living rooms from around the world. How ironic to use social media - meant to connect people together- for mourning the loss of the deceased, especially for one who chose not to even have any Facebook presence. Yet these online ceremonies were powerful, cathartic, inspiring.

A few weeks ago, an Israeli friend once saw my collection of photo albums and commented that I was ‘too sentimental”. I keep too much stuff from the past, she said.

If only she knew the extent of it, I thought.

I made those albums for posterity; so I’d always be able to remind myself of my youth and the inspiring people who gave me the foundations that built who I am as a person.  For me, there is no such thing as being too sentimental; there is documenting your roots so you can always know from where you came.  The memories of Reva and Ayala will go on specifically because there are sentimental friends out there who wish to document their lives and remember their legacies.

Losing these two friends has reminded me that life is short.  It’s crucial to concentrate on what is fundamentally important. It is easy to get caught up with everyday life and its challenges, its frustrations and annoyances. We sometimes forget about the people who have led the way to our successes and accomplishments. More frequently, we take for granted how quickly it can all be taken from us.

How apropos for Elul.

Admittedly, I am wistful this time of year, for that time when we would see our closest friends every day, in person and not over a computer screen.

I am wistful for the time when we had our mentors accessible to us, guiding us, teaching us, inspiring us.

I am wistful for when life was simple.

I am wistful for a time when the framework and rules were clear; when we questioned as much as we wanted, aspiring for clarity and truth. Little did we know that adulthood would bring so many unanswered questions, mainly where the justice is in taking away two wonderful women who created families of their own, who left a host of loyal friends who gather together across the globe to share memories of how much they meant to them.

My lesson from mourning these two friends is not to wait until another friend passes on to contact them. Pick up the phone, go visit. Spend Shabbat together, and yes bring your spouses and children. They should get to know each other simply because you are all meaningful to each other. If you choose to meet for coffee during the week, you will survive leaving work early, taking a slightly longer lunch break and don’t worry, your spouse will figure out how to make dinner for the kids. While you can, go spend time with the people who inspire you to be exactly who you truly are or aspire to be.…

Sadly, the deaths of two young women, Reva and Ayala Pamela, were the catalysts for such a reflection. I hope to use our time here in this world to stay connected with and impacted by people whom I cherish.