Bonsai Gezunt

The purpose of this email is to water, feed and prune just right at the Shabbat table.... 

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Wishing Mom and all mothers out there a happy Mother's Day.

Thank you for the many thoughtful replies to last week's May the Mitzvah Be With You, much appreciated.Today's theme is this lovely tree to your left.

<== that one

 

I found it in the National Aboretum.

Who knew that our taxes were supporting such a wonderful place?

It's huge, it's well-maintained, and it's free.

Now if you haven't already guessed, I took this picture at that angle in order to fool you.

Here is what the same tree looks like from further away:

It is, of course, a Brazilian Peppertree, Schinus terebinthifolia, which Wikipedia reports to have many (folk) medical uses but alas is an invasive weed in the USA. (Perhaps creating a bonsai version of it is a fitting expression of the human need to control nature?)
 
Now how this does this lead to a question for your table?

I learned this week that in order to train an ordinary tree to become a bonsai, one must while the tree is still a sapling wrap the individual roots with wire. This will prevent them from growing thicker and thus dwarf the tree. You'll still need to keep the tree trimmed, but they actually tend to be healthier and live far longer than their non-bonsai cousins.

The first question for your table is: Why is this? Why should a bonsai tree live far longer than a regular tree?

Here's a hint:
The oldest bonzai in the Arboretum is over 400 years old. It was passed down within the same Hiroshima family for all those years, and survived the Bomb (as did the members of the family). The family gifted it to the United States of America in 1776.

 
Get the hint?

The answer is because bonzais tend to receive better care than regular trees. Their owners are zealous to give them the right amounts of water, fertilizer, pruning and sunshine. With all that loving care, they can live longer.

Second question for your table: Could lovingly giving the right amounts of water, food, pruning and sunshine increase human longevity too?


Shabbat Shalom

PS - If bonsai interest you, you may want to click on the photos above and also see this.

For You, What's a Good Life?

The goal of this blog is leverage the last Shabbat of the year to steer us towards a meaningful Rosh Hashana.

We are working hard on a special Rosh Hashana Table Talk for next Wednesday. In the meantime, if you are still looking for books, activities and gifts for all ages, see our suggestions and links at bestjewishkidsbooks.com.


This is the final regular Table Talk of the year, folks.

For today, to prepare you and your family for next Wednesday's Rosh Hashana email, I have three questions.

First, take a moment to look at the photo to the left then read on.

What was your first reaction to the photo? Did you see a poor sheep missing a horn, or a sheep that thankfully has a horn?

Think about your reaction for a moment and how that may reflect your general attitude towards life.

Second is a simple question that doesn't get asked often enough:

If you had to choose, what would you rather have:

A) A long and comfortable, healthy life devoid of meaning.
B) A long and uncomfortable life full of meaning.

Think before you answer.

I know you want to say an answer that isn't one of the choices. Stick to those two choices.

Now for today's third question, after everyone picks between those two choices, ask them to choose between their answer and option C:

C) A short and comfortable, healthy life full of meaning.

In other words, in the first round, you're asked to choose between comfort and meaning, and in the second round between comfort and longevity.

What do you choose?

Shabbat Shalom


To find Amazon's best High Holiday books, activities and gifts, please use bestjewishkidsbooks.com and help support JSL's work.

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Older But Wiser?

In memory of my father, Dennis Seinfeld (Dovid ben Eliezer).

Last Friday night I went as usual to the nearby assisted-living home.

Small place, only about 30 residents.

As a rule, by the time I arrive (after dinner) the only residents I see are those who want to participate in the Shabbat program (kiddush + story). Everyone else go up to their rooms straight after dinner.

So it surprised me to see Mr. Aaron still sitting there. At 103 years old and nearly deaf, I doubted he had stayed around for me, maybe he was just feeling too tired to get up.

Anyway, after the program, as I rose to leave, he suddenly stood up and asked me, "Would you walk me to my room?"

He was shuffling with a walker. Big man. Strong man. You could tell he had been fit once upon a time.

We walked to the elevator. I wish I could say we had a meaningful conversation. With his hearing loss, it was next to impossible. I knew that he had a lot going on inside there, because over the course of the past few years knowing him, a great sense of humor occasionally came out.

Like the time 2 years ago he had been in the hospital. When he returned home, I told him, "Good to see you on your feet!"

"Better than on someone else's feet!" he retorted.

Last Friday night was the last I saw him. He was "niftar" this week and the funeral was yesterday.

Yesterday was also the 6th Yahrzeit (anniversary) of my father's petira.

Many people don't know the word "petira" (and niftar, the adjective form) but it's a great word to add to your Jewish vocabulary.

It doesn't mean "passing" or "death".

It literally means "exemption" or better, "absolution".

Exemption from what?

From doing mitzvot (mitzvos).

Isn't that a strange way to refer to someone's passing?

Well, what does "passing" mean?

Think about it.

I did several things in his memory yesterday.

- Lit a 24-hour candle Wednesday night.
- Said kaddish in a minyan
- Learned a little bit of Torah in his honor.

I also went to a funeral.

Of course, the funeral had nothing to do with my father, but it brought back memories.

I sat in the back, and listened to Mr. Aaron's grandchildren (he had outlived his children) talking about this man's long, productive life.

Like my father, he had been an attorney. Like my father, he had been the epitome of compassion.

One time, a grandson told, they were having lunch at a restaurant and his grandfather ordered an extra sandwich to go. What was this for? For a hungry person he had seen outside on the way in.

It's great to hear these kinds of stories, because if you only know someone as a 103-year-old man, you only know him as a disabled, hard-of-hearing wrinkled old fella.

My dad, in contrast, never reached old age. He was niftar in his prime.

Sometimes I wonder what my dad would have been like at age 70, or 80, or 90, or 100.

Sometimes I wonder what I will be like at those ages, should I enjoy living so long.

(Apparently, this site will transform your photo to show you past and future selves.)

First question for your table - What kind of person do you see yourself as in 10 years? In 20? In 40?

One of the things I learned about Mr. Aaron was that he had always had a sense of humor.

Riva, the nurse who cares for the seniors over there, observed after the funeral how for most people, when they age their personality doesn't change.

So it sounds like if you are a complaining person today, you have a high chance of ending up a cranky old man or woman.

If you are a cheerful person today, you have a high chance of ending up a cheerful old man or woman.

Some people feel that they are stuck. They are stuck in their bodies, stuck in their personalities. Change may be possible, but it's just too darn hard.

Question #2 - If there were one thing you could change about yourself between now and when you reach 103, what would it be?

Shabbat Shalom

PS - Here is a recent video of Mr. Aaron

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