It is very hard to be funny at times like this.
What I find remarkable is how everyone knows someone who has been personally affected by the situation in Israel. The situation — that is putting it lightly. I must get off my phone and stop watching the news. But should I? And everything I write sounds more narcissistic than usual because the world is upside down.
God willing, with the strength and resolve of the IDF, it will right itself again.
Every day there seems to be a new prayer or a new project to help. Last week, I got a message about “A Day of Modesty.” All women (yes, this was woman-specific) should try to do something different to make their appearance a little more modest. (Do you know where this is going?) I decided to cover my hair. It was for one day. Just the one day. Was I silly to think that I was really helping the situation in Israel by covering my hair for one day? Probably. But with feeling helpless comes desperation, and why not try something new?
So, last Wednesday, I covered my hair with my father’s Brooklyn Dodgers hat. Actually, that’s not true. I went with Husband #1 to a doctor appointment in the city, and I wore my dad’s New York Mets bucket hat. I chose this specifically because I thought it would offset Husband #1’s yarmulka. My thinking being, if a person who isn’t fond of Jews saw Husband 1’s yarmulka, they would then look at my Mets hat and think, “Oy, they have enough problems with their team, I won’t bother them.” Yes, this was my thinking. Yes, I am nuts.
When I got home and was going out with Son #3, I decided to switch it up and wear the Brooklyn Dodgers hat. “You are going to wear that when we go out to dinner?” Son #3 asked. “You know, when I don’t cover my hair, you want me to cover my hair. When I cover my hair, you question my sense of style. I just can’t win!” True story.
My family was so excited about my hair covering that they must have shared it with some other people. And this is what happens when you share things with other people and signals get crossed. I received a text from someone congratulating me on taking on such a huge thing as covering my hair. Apparently, the “only one day” thing got lost in translation, and now I was shaving my head and wearing a head covering for the rest of my life. The rumors of my modesty have been greatly exaggerated….
My Strudel and her sister and parents were here for the weekend. That was amazing, thank God. Strudel makes everything better. For some reason, she will not call me Babka. She calls me Banji. First we thought it was because she couldn’t say the word Babka. Allow me to directly quote a conversation with my favorite human.
“Okay Strudel, say mommy.”
And because I am super annoying, I would do it again, with different words, and every time I ask her to say “Babka,” without missing a beat, she says “Banji.” As I have told Husband #1 many, many, many times, my name has never sounded as good as when Strudel says it.
I often tell her parents that they should have named her Nechama for the amount of comfort she has given me over the last two years. And I am so grateful for her and her parents.
In conclusion, finding humor in this current situation is difficult, but because we are human, it is necessary in order to survive. You feel guilty for laughing, but you feel insane if you don’t.
Somehow, I had managed to lock Strudel in her room again, and our incredible friend and his incredible wife came over to save the day. When he walked in with his bag of tools I was totally amazed, because Husband #1’s only tool is, wait, he doesn’t have any tools.
In any event, he got Strudel out, I am not even sure how he did it. But now that I have managed to lock her in the room twice, I am even more grateful that Dil #1 allows me to spend time with her. (And grateful for our friend and his tools.)
May God watch over all of us and our children and may there be peace in our Homeland….
Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck is having four teeth pulled this week. Because even with everything going on, she can still make everything about her.