Tag Archives: Jewish

Women Who Inspire Us #2: Rivka Malka Perlman

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Today’s post is the second in the Women Who Inspire Us Series.  Here’s last week’s post from Noa, in case you missed it.  You may also want to subscribe to my RSS feed, or “like” my Facebook page.  As always, if you would like to share your inspiration by participating in the series, please contact me.

I really enjoyed reading about today’s inspirational woman, who happens to live in the same town I do, and is the daughter of a family I knew in Cleveland!  It is a small, small world.  Today’s inspiration was shared by Jessi Franco, a stay-at-home-mom who enjoys cooking, art, and tying mitpachot (tichels) in original and funky ways.

1)  Who is a woman you find inspirational?
Rivka Malka Perlman

2)  What is her relationship to you?
She is a dear friend and “soul sister”

3) Where did you meet her?
At my best friend’s wedding in Monsey, NY.  She is my best friend’s aunt.

4) When did you meet her?
In 2006

5)  What is inspirational about her (it can be more than one thing, i.e. personality, actions, overcoming hardships)? Can you share a specific memory (or more than one)?

Women's Tichels, Headscarves, (image from cove...

Image via Wikipedia

What is inspirational about Rivka Malka? Well, I keep learning more and more.  Let me start off by telling you about when I first met her.

I was engaged to a Sephardi man and excited but apprehensive about tying my first mitpachat (headscarf.) In a place like Monsey, most women wear sheitals, but when I saw Rivka Malka in her beautifully tied tichel, her neshama really shined through.  I found out that her name was Rivka Malka, and queen (Malka) fit her well considering the regal way she wore her headwrap.

Hashkafically I have always leaned more towards tichels, and was eager to connect to someone (in America) about this. She was obviously a person who wasn’t afraid to go against the grain, and I admired that.  I walked right up to her, introduced myself, and told her that I wanted to wear tichels exclusively.  She told me she loves teaching new kallahs and selling tichels to raise tzedakah, but she lives “all the way in Baltimore,” well, that’s just where I live!

So I went to her a few weeks later for my first tichel tying lesson, and met her incredible (then) homeschooled family.  The more I got to know her, the more I admired her.  She danced at my wedding as if we were lifelong friends, although I had only known her for 2 months.  That’s the kind of person Rivka Malka is. Every Jew is like her lifelong friend.

Once I realized she wasn’t just any normal person, I asked if we could start learning Chassidus over the phone.  She chose To Heal a Soul from  the Piaseczna Rebbe, a sefer that still remains dear in my heart.

Casually, I discovered her encounter with illness, and again, grew to respect her more.  She triumphed and grew from her experience in a way some people only dream of.

When we joined the same shul, our families got to know each other, and I felt welcomed and loved by her entire family(who are now our regular babysitters).  She frequently ran Rosh Chodesh gatherings for women where we shared art and music (and tichel tying).  This was Rivka Malka’s way of giving us a dose of that special feminine spirituality that seems so natural to her.

Her warmth and empathy led me to ask her to be my doula, which she happily obliged to do.  She gave it her all, and dropped her MANY responsibilities to take a tour of the hospital with me before my labor, and to be there with me from the beginning to the very end.  She helped make my labor a spiritual experience, reciting tehillim and tefillos.

Recently, she took a job as director of WOW -a kiruv organization.  She gives it 100%, forming deep bonds with the attendees and hosting sometimes 40-50 people on Shabbos!

What is the most special thing about my dear friend, though?  Probably the fact that all I have just shared with you is just a small fraction of her deeds.  Ask her friends, family, and community, and you will be sure to hear hundreds and hundreds of incredible anecdotes.

6)  How has this inspiration affected your life? Do you think it has made you a better person? How so?
She inspires me all the time.  She has a very “hands on” approach to mothering, not in the over-protective sense, more in the “quality time” sense.  She loves family bonding, and you can see that by the way her children interact; they are all each others’ best friends!

I was struck by this once when we were eating there for Shabbos.  Her daughter told me that she had just had her birthday slumber party.  She was describing the activities, and when I asked who attended, she said with a big grin “Who else? My family!”  That is a byproduct of Rivka Malka’s love for her family.

Another thing she has taught me is when you have a spark of inspiration, go for it! And go for it full force!  She never half-does anything she commits to.  Recently she ran a bake sale with her family to for a soup kitchen in Israel.  When I asked her how she planned it, she said that within 5 minutes of being inspired she organized the sale for that day. They raised a few hundred dollars.

7) When do you find yourself thinking of this person? How do you feel when you think about her?
I find myself thinking of her often during my weaker moments, when I think I can grow a little.  I think to myself,

“One day, I want to be the kind of person Rivka Malka is: positive, warm, yet very refined.”

Sometimes the thought overwhelms me.  How can I possibly get there?  She has so much more spirituality than me!  Then I remember the quote from Rav Wolbe,

“Large mountains are made of small grains of sand”

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Redefining Homemaker

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Bb Clarinet

Clarimanet...clarimanet....Image by Terriko via Flickr

Some of you may be aware that I’m a fan of traditionalism in marriage, and that I can be a little old-fashioned at times.  After reading my friend Chavi’s guest post, I realized that even though I do think that the traditional model has a lot of merit, I don’t fit quite so neatly into the mold.

Why not, you may ask?  Well, I keep a busy schedule of performances, as well as various other activities.  For instance, just between last night and today I have four engagements outside of the house.  Count ‘em – four.  While that’s more than usual, I am typically pretty booked.  My husband and I were laughing about the ridiculous schedule I keep.  He said to me,

“When people ask me what you do, I tell them you’re a homemaker, but that’s not entirely true.”

Right.  I’m not actually making home all that much these days (and boy, does it show!).  It’s not that I don’t like being at home.  I do.  I like puttering around the house.  I also like it when the house is clean and I can find things like my cars keys (it’s a good thing I have a spare set), and I can see things like my floors (I know they’re somewhere down there).

I’m trying to find the sweet spot between my home and outside life. Since, thank G-d, I’ve been getting more opportunities to play (paying!) gigs, I’ve had to think about what that means for my family.  What are the sacrifices that I have to make when I take the gig?  It’s not just the actual performance time (for which I may or may not need a babysitter, depending on my husband’s schedule), but also the practice time.

Practicing’s tricky, since Little Man keeps me on a tight leash musically.  He doesn’t let me play any songs that don’t meet his approval.  Rachmaninoff?  Out of the question.  Row, row your boat?  That’s more up his alley.

So, since I can’t really practice much during the day, that means it has to be squeezed in during the evening, after Little Man is asleep, and when the baby doesn’t need me.  Happens to be that that is also usually when I pick up the house, do dishes, oh, and relax.  I’m currently trying to find a way to utilitze my time as efficiently as possible, since I don’t think it’s good to let entropy take over every time I have a performance (did I mention I can’t see my floors?).

You see, as much as I need the outside stimulation, and to use my musical abilities, I also need to make my house a welcoming, organized and sane place.  I want my children to see that it’s possible to contribute to the community and still maintain a functional household.  That family and home life come first, but that it’s also important to use the unique skill set that is specific to each person.

And that reminds me of a post on Chavi’s blog, about how there is no right way to be a wife and a mother, because we all have our own distinct personalities.

For some, that could mean having a job outside the house, or for others, it could be staying home.  It could be regularly hosting guests for Shabbos, or arranging postpartum meals.  It could be running a summer camp, or giving swimming lessons.   When our children see us contributing in whatever way is the most suited for us, they see what it’s like to use the abilities G-d gave us to the fullest.

Using my ability to perform makes me happy, and that makes my husband happy, which helps our marriage, which helps our parenting.  I am immensely grateful of his exceptional support of my non-traditional homemaking style.  Now I really need to go actually make some home…!

 

I want my children to see that it’s possible to contribute to the community and still maintain a functional household.  That my family and home life obviously come first, but that it’s also important to have a vibrant communal life as well.
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First post on LadyMama

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LadyMama is a fantastic site to surf.  Full of fun, informative articles,  polls and opportunities to contribute your thoughts and opinions, it’s worthy of your limited internet time.  In the words of the site itself,  LadyMama is a

dream space for the yiddishe mama in every trendy lady to learn, share and connect.

After I visited the site for the first time, I knew that I wanted to contribute.  In lieu of a post here, I’m linking to my first post on LadyMama. Enjoy!

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you can visit the site by typing http://www.ladymama.org or by going to http://www.ladymamale.blogspot.com/

 

Culture Clash

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(It occurred to me that it is Tuesday, but that this is not a Torah Tuesdays post.  I plead sleep-deprivation and mommy-brain.  Hope you enjoy the following post, regardless of its out-of-order appearance).

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A Russian son calls his mother three times a week and she asks him why he’s not calling more.  An American daughter calls her mother three times a week and she asks her why she’s calling so much.

Generally, the idea is to marry someone with a lot in common with you.  This is supposed to cut down on misunderstandings So, as a staunchly Midwestern creatively-minded girl who came to Jewish observance post-college, I should have sought out someone with a similar background.  Who did I marry?  A science-minded doctor who immigrated from the Ukraine, was raised in the south and became observant in high school.

Of course.

So, what happens when two people with divergent backgrounds come together?

Well, for one, I found out that there are other ways to eat a banana.  My husband starts from the bottom (he would say it’s the top).  He uses the stem part as a handle.  Even though I still find it weird, it has a certain practicality to it.  I mean, that stem does look like a little handle.

banana

which end is up?

Also, Russian fairy tales are creepy.  Apparently there is a little lullaby which ends with something along the lines of “and if you sleep too close to the end of the bed a little wolf will come and bite you.”  This is not in the forest, people.  This is in your room.  Besides creepy lullabies, there are stories which end rather dismally.  There’s one about a piece of straw, a boot and something else, and the story ends with everyone dying while frogs are laughing at them.  There are others with titles like “Who lived in the skull?”  and “Tale of the dead princess and the seven knights.”  At least the Brothers Grimm are a little less obvious about their creepiness. (My husband wanted me to mention that he doesn’t actually read any Russian folk tales to our children)

Baba Yaga riding a pig and fighting the infern...

Creepy Baba Yaga

Another difference is in our opinions of whether or not to smile in official, government I.D.s like driver’s licenses, passports, etc.  My husband maintains that you’re not supposed to smile; it obscures your features or something.  I have always smiled in my photo I.D.s.; it just looks better.  I can’t really blame him for his opinion, though.  My mother-in-law did tell me that when they left the Soviet Union, they were told not to smile for their exit visa thing because “no one was supposed to be happy to leave Russia.”  For real.

Besides for providing these cultural enhancements to my life, my husband, through a combination of coming to the U.S. and becoming frum in high school, is unaware of various American traditions.

Like grilled cheese belonging with tomato soup.  Or breakfast food being served for dinner.

Yes, it probably would have been simpler if I had married someone who was my carbon copy, but it would be so dull.  I mean, would my carbon describe certain Sesame Street characters as “the weird-looking fuzzy red thing”  (That’s Elmo, by the way)?

It’s much more entertaining this way.  да, очень

Torah Tuesdays – All the time

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The Ten Commandments, In SVG

Image via Wikipedia

One thing that Judaism has is lots and lots of mitzvos.  Mitzvos that govern how to eat, talk, get dressed, get married.  Most of the mitzvos are related to specific acts (like cooking) or specific times (like waking up in the morning).  There are, however, six mitzvos that one is supposed to keep in mind all the time.  They are known as the six constant mitzvos.

I was reading an article on Aish.com, and it reminded me that I hadn’t thought about these mitzvos in a while (yes, the irony is not lost on me).

One of the neat things about these six mitzvos, is that all the other mitzvos help feed into them.  They are all kind of a way to develop a continual state of being aware of G-d.  The six constant mitzvos are supposed to be what I’m thinking about all the time (yeah, I’m not there yet), and all the other mitzvos I do, like making a bracha before and after I eat something, for instance, are supposed to help me remember these basic six mitzvos.  I love it when things are all interconnected like that.

So, a quick look at the first one:

Know that there is a G-d.

Yep.  Rule number one.  Think the first of the ten commandments.  This is it, more or less.

It’s important to note the phrasing of this mitzvah, specifically that it says to “know” that there is a G-d, not to “believe” that there is a G-d.  This is kind of tied in to last week’s Torah Tuesdays, about choosing to see the miracles in our life.  When taking a closer look at the mind-boggling structure and order within nature, it can solidify one’s  understanding that there is a Creator who arranged all of that.

One perk of this mitzvah is that it’s one of the easier ones to do as a mommy.  Just take a moment during the day and say, “Hey, I know there’s a G-d.”  It’s not the kind of mitzvah which can be interrupted by a baby, or that interferes with dinner prep.  The trickiest part is remembering to do it.  I heard of a lady once who took time to review the six constant mitzvos everytime she was at a stoplight.

That’s it for this week.  Short and sweet.  Take some time each day and try to do this mitzvah.

 

 

Oh, so you married a DOCTOR?!!

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It started when we got engaged.  People would ask, “So, what does your chosson do?”  I would reply, “He’s in medical school.”  Eyebrows would raise; heads would nod approvingly.  “Ah, a doctor,”  they would say.

Call me naive, but I was in the dark as to what exactly was the big deal.  One of my friends pointed out that it was every Jewish mother’s dream to have a doctor for a son-in-law.  But I wasn’t marrying a doctor, I was marrying a man, a really great man.

When we were planning our wedding, one venue director had the chutzpah to tell me that the $12,000 minimum they charged for using their venue would only be a drop in the bucket, since I was marrying a doctor.  I’m not sure if she meant that it would be a drop in the bucket of the massive debt he was accruing in med school, or if it would be a breeze to pay back because we would be fabulously wealthy.  Either way, we used a different location.

It’s continued after marriage as well.  Friends make references about how we won’t have to worry about finances when Hub is finished with residency.  Things, like my complete inability to remember the prices of supermarket items, are attributed to my imminent affluence (instead of to my faulty memory).

Well, sorry to disappoint everyone, but Hub is going into general practice.  Ain’t a lot of money in that (no, really, there’s not).  Plus, we want a bunch of kids, and they’re all going to private school, and I don’t think we’re going to get any scholarships ’cause, well, he’s a doctor.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that there’s a certain amount of job security (unfortunately, it’s because people are always getting sick), and it’s a noble field and all, but the hours are lousy and the debt is high.  It’s also kind of annoying to have Hub’s potential income discussed so publicly and so often.

But it’s okay, because I married a doctor.  heehee.

 

 

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Maternity clothes – to buy or to borrow

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A pacifier

Image via Wikipedia

One of the many, many things I love about being in the Orthodox community is the massive amount of lending that occurs between friends, acquaintances and, well, everyone.  There are these things called gemachs (an acronym for gemilus chasadim, which translates roughly to “acts of kindness”) where you can get all sorts of things, often times for free.

What kinds of gemachs can a girl find?  Lot of kinds!  There are furniture gemachs, wedding dress gemachs (I totally used one for me wedding dress.  All I had to pay for was the cleaning.  That’s it!), folding table and chair gemachs, money gemachs, even pacifier gemachs (not used ones – ewww!  You take the one you need and then buy the same kind and return that new, pristine paci to the gemach).

Recently, one of my friends started a gemach for maternity clothes.  Honestly, who wants to, or is even able to, buy a whole new wardrobe for each pregnancy, unless you’re fortunate enough to be pregnant at the same time of year (or obscenely wealthy)?  In the Orthodox community, people tend to have lots of babies, so there are lots of maternity clothes floating around.  My friend is collecting some of them and keeping them in her closet, and for a small, suggested donation, she is lending them out to people who don’t want to get a whole new wardrobe just ’cause of a pesky expanding waistline (ah, if it were only the waistline).

So, unless there is an extremely cute top on the 70% off rack at Target, it’s not going to be purchased by yours truly.  I will rely on the kindnesses of my fellow Yidden and borrow, borrow, borrow.  Thank goodness for friends with good taste!

It’s like shopping, but free!

 

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Interpersonal Regret

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This post is in two acts (yes, that is a nod to This American Life).  It’s about contemplating and wanting to improve some aspects of my non-familial relationships.

Act One:

Partially it’s hormones.  At least that’s what I tell myself.  More likely, it’s something to do with my personality.  What am I talking (er, writing) about?  My apparent need to have one conflict going at any time.  Not ever single day, mind you, but frequently enough to form a noticeable, and somewhat disturbing, pattern.  It’s almost like a compulsion.  Like eating that extra brownie (or three) even though you know you’re going to feel icky afterwards.

On the bright side, I guess it means that I don’t have any trouble serious enough in my life to distract me from these petty grievances.  Thankfully.  However, it’s tiring to regularly have something dramatic occupying my mind and emotions.  It typically manifests with someone who’s not a friend, but that I interact with recurrently, and have at least one common character trait.  I think that’s the main thing.  The person who I’m clashing with I clash with because I’m reminded of myself in some way which I don’t enjoy.

Why?  Why does this crop up on such a regular basis?  Am I that bored?  Do I really need something negatively charged to focus on?  Also, why does it bother me so much?  After all, it’s normal to have interpersonal conflicts.  Look at how many different categories there are.  Perhaps it’s naive to think that I’ll get along with everyone all the time.  But, there’s my idealism and perfectionism rearing their heads, as they often do.  I don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to curb this habit.

So, why does it occur?  Because I let it.  When something starts to get under my skin, I obsess over it.  In incredible detail I rehash the offensive interaction, usually focusing on how ridiculous the other person’s behavior is (because I’m obviously perfect, without any fault whatsoever).

What to do?  Rather than becoming obsessive when I begin to feel these emotions arise, I should flip my focus to myself.  See how I am contributing to the conflict.  Then, when I know I’m going to be in a situation with the person of interest, I need to prep myself for the encounter and have a mantra like, “Don’t be diabolical.” Also, I was thinking that if I spend less time inbibing pop culture (cough cough Hulu) and more time immersing myself in good hashgafa (ahem, Mesilas Yesharim), maybe I can slant myself towards a more favorable reaction when I’m in trying situations.

Act Two:

Here’s something which I occasionally see as a flaw, and occasionally could care less about.  This regret is the regret of feeling like I’m not a great friend.  What?  Yeah.  Why?  Mainly because for most of my life I’ve spent time initiating new friendships rather than maintaining old ones.  Also because I want to be friends (or at least liked) by everyone and therefore feel like I don’t get to develop deeper relationships.

Sometimes I think it’s because we moved around a lot when I was a child (yes, the ever-popular blame-it-on-my-childhood approach), which resulted in cultivating good friend-maker skills.   It really hasn’t changed much as I’ve grown older.  In college I bounced around a lot, traveled abroad, switched social circles at least a couple times.  Then, after college I became frum, so again I changed circles.  Then I went to Israel for a year.  Then I got married moved to my husband’s city, and then moved again five months later.  Now we’re in a semi-transition mode.  We know we’ll be here for three years, but don’t know if we’ll have to move again once my husband’s residency is finished.

There were people in each place and time who I genuinely liked and would love to be in touch with.  But I’m not.  There are a few people who I’m still in touch with, but I have to say I don’t make a lot of effort.  If I’m picking up the phone, I’m usually calling my mom.

Maybe because now I’m more immersed with my husband, my baby, and that, as stated, the person I call the most is my mother, so I don’t make as much time for friends.  I still wish I did.  I’ve heard that really all a person needs is one close friend.  But if I have to make a new close friend every two years, am I even capable of having a truly close friendship?  And there are so many likable people around that I want to spend time with.

Honestly, most of the time this doesn’t bother me.  I’m happy, and I like the friends I have and the friends I’m still in touch with.  What triggered this regret was seeing some posts between friends on Facebook.  Posts between people I wish I had been closer to, that I wish I could be more in touch with.  Posts sharing inside jokes, sharing pleasant memories, sharing warm fuzzies.  I felt out of the loop.  And I want to be in every loop!

So, that’s the rub.  It’s impossible to be in every loop.  If I take it personally that I’m not everyone’s best friend, well, that’s just ridiculous.

*          *          *

That’s the gist of it.  Relating to people is an important part of living, and wanting to do it better is a worthwhile endeavor.  It takes effort, of course, but it’s totally gratifying.  Now I just have to remember and attempt to improve.

 

 

 

 

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