The Hands of Time

I remember him well, His broad hands holding me, His deep voice lulling me to sleep, The promise of the world in his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my protector

I remember him well, His strong hands showing me what I had failed to see, His deep voice breaking as he told me how much more it hurt him than me, The hint of a tear in his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my discipliner

I remember him, His staunch hands holding me back from what I needed to do, His deep voice yelling driving me to the brink of madness, The hurt that came crawling out of his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my jailer

I remember him well, His hardened hands weathered in the winds of times, His deep voice laughing at the witty remarks I made, His eyes reflecting knowledge far beyond my reach,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my guide.

I remember him well, His frail hand trembling as he clung to life, His deep voice raspy as he strained to speak, The tears in his eyes that had long been dried out,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my Hero.

So with 5 kids in our home under the age of 8 there is a lot of “I miss Mommy”s, “I had the toy first”, “it’s too hot, I’m taking off my diaper” and(from the now diaper-less child) “I wet the bed, floor, ceiling, parrot, etc…”

To be honest, as much as I love kids, and I do, I just don’t think my wife and I are ready to have an extra 5 bodies crawling into our bed at night… not to mention that noise amplification seems to triple with each additional kid, I think we’re going to have a much easier time with our 1 son after this is all over…

I have a policy that you go the extra mile for family, and with my wife’s sister and her husband in dire need of a vacation it was our pleasure to volunteer to watch their kids for 5 days.
Yes, I know that may seem like more than just an extra mile… it’s an easy 20 miles or so I have been told… but despite the hardships we really wanted to do this from the bottom of our hearts.

In addition to the vacation my in-laws also made us trustees of their estate as well as their children’s legal guardians in the event that something should, G-D forbid, ever happen to them.
Not something I take lightly, but it’s nice that out of all her other siblings (my wife is number 9 of 13) they felt that we would be the ones best suited to raise their children…

So as I sat at the dinner table with 4 blubbering tykes I felt my blood start to boil and a feeling of “holy $%^&, this is only hour 5, we have another 5 days of this!” started to set it!

But right before I lashed out with a “will you kids shut the BLEEPING BLAPPING %^&* UP!!!!!” (not that I would actually verbalize it in such a manner, I do have some self-control, and I am pretty good with children), I thought of what would happen if something were to happen to their parents and we would end up raising them after this tragedy… My approach to their wailing “Mommy & Daddy” would be one of compassion and love, not a grumpy “ah sharrup…”

That got me thinking about perspective in general, and how trying to see things in a different light would impact someone…

so on that note I give you:

How I began to live

The nimble I;
had run the 5k, and danced the night away

But only when he jogged in on his chair with wheels did I first begin to walk

The vocal I;
would sing my favorite song, and laugh the whole night long

But only when he spoke of his life without a voice did I first begin to talk

The discontented I;
did preach my patriarchs faults, and their devotion would constantly assault

But only when I met the orphans ancestors was I first a child

The indulgent I;
drank to my heart’s content, and left my temple broke and bent

But only when I saw the dead man’s life did I first begin to live

Shavuot celebrates the receiving of the 10 commandments, and thereby the Torah or Bible, on mount Sinai more than 3000 years ago. But this isn’t a holiday where we just commemerate an event that happened 3000 years ago, it’s a yearly reaffirmation of our commitment and acceptance of the torah.

This means that for the last 3000 years, EVERY year, millions of Jews around the world accepted G-D’s laws and teachings, committing themselves to uphold and review these texts yet again! For those of you that are unaware, the Jewish nation follows 613 laws. That’s 613 dos and don’ts that we need to keep in mind at all times.

For anyone that isn’t Jewish, your total list of laws (as listed in the bible) is 7. That’s right, 7 check em out! And if you keep your 7 you get rewarded for keeping G-D’s directive, we on the other hand have 87.6 times the amount of responsibilities. And despite that, and despite the years of anti-semitism and suffering we remain faithful and steadfast in our commitment to keeping all of G-D’s directives.

So while it may look like I’m just enjoying my wine and cheese, or a nice conversation with my new Shul-mates, what I am doing is reaffirming myself to a higher cause and accepting G-D’s will as my own, accepting the yoke of his laws on me once again…

So in a word: I’m setting myself up for failure once again!

A happy Shavuot one and all,

Splattman

The funeral procession passed by the Jewish Children’s Museum in Brooklyn New York on it’s way to the graveyard. And as I stood there watching the thousands of mourners that had shown up to pay their last respects I started looking at the mural at the front of the museum.

As a bit of a backstory, the mural consists of photos of thousands of children, of all races and religions, and they form the photo of Ari Halberstam, a boy that was shot and killed in a hate crime on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Knowing this I began to wonder what Ari was thinking, watching this through the thousands of eyes in his photo…

THROUGH ARI’S EYES
As seen through the eye on the wall

The Eye on the Wall

I knew this day was different, something was amiss
Instead of waking to children’s laughter my day started like this

-

Their crying awoke me, assaulting my ears
I watched and hurt again, all of my eyes brimming with of tears

-

I’d seen it before but never this real
My hearts cracked and faded never to heal

-

The car pull up, the truth all to clear
One look, one glance, brings to life their worst fear

-

My eye took in their what ifs, and how comes
As they faced the wooden box, trying to undo what they had never done

-

Minute by minute, hour by hour
The pain not decreasing, only growing in power

-

I watched the sea of hurt come floating by
As they assaulted the heavens with; “how could you let him die”

-

“Too young” “Too soon”, isn’t that always the way
Yet this one is different, takes me back to my day

-

I knew their tears, felt their pain in my skin
Saw the helpless faces, took it all in

-

And as the car pulled off taking him away
They hugged and cried, and tried to face the day

-

The dirt fell, covering him part by part
Each drop made them cringe as the shovels pierced their heart

-

Pale as ghosts, trembling with dread
Their lips saying the words they should never have said

-

I saw them walk away, through the crowd, to the car
Keeping him close, as they moved him so far

-

I’ll be there to greet him, as they try  and comfort his parents,  his wife
Too young and too soon, The story of my life…

Forgotten Hands

Hundreds died but they reached their goal,

The victories prize was worth every soul.

-

They called out they swore not to forsake,

To the heavens, their cries reached אם אשכחך

-

This cause that they lived for they died for as well,

For each day without it, served as a living hell,

-

But now it was ours, standing proud, standing tall,

The Banquet

“She’s Coming, she’s coming!” the winds frosty song set the young trees and saplings dancing with delight, even old and weathered oak and pine smile in anticipation of what was to come. Maple and her friends quickly change into their favorite colors eagerly awaiting her arrival. Everywhere squirrels and chipmunks stop playing to hear the news, then with a chirp they’re off to gather fruits & nuts for the feast, chattering all the while “hurry she’s coming… she’s almost here!”

The Bucks and their Fawn change their dark cloaks for their light thick fur, while the robin tries to find the right shade of red for this gallant affair. Raccoons sort through their masks trying on each one till they find the one they haven’t worn in a long time. Mrs. Rabbit outfits her family with their new cotton tail-warmers she has just finished sewing. While the bear lays out his bed in his cave laying extra thickness to the spots that he suffered the cramps and pains last year. In their nest the thrush reminds his family that this year they were leaving the second the feast was over in order to beat the traffic, then flies off to get directions from the geese (Orlando for his family and Boca for his mother.)

In the great hall the bees buzzed in and out carrying honey for the feast. The termites are repairing the furniture that got damaged in the last years bash. For entertainment the ducks were preparing a comedy routine sure to quack everyone up. The cats and dogs were in charge of the games and assured everyone that there was fun in store for all ages. The spiders hung the decorations created by the ladybug (this year it was to be a collage of all the decorations for the last 5 and 1/2 thousand years.). In the kitchen the foxes and the badgers were cooking up a storm but the busiest of all the creatures was the ants. They were the little men behind the scene making sure it all ran smoothly.

At last the time for the banquet has arrived, and the guest stream in. Immediately the fireflies set the mood with a low glow and with their dancing created flashing disco ball lights. The music was handled by the crickets with the aviary choir singing beautifully and the wind doing harmony. The food was scrumptious, the entertainment hilarious, and during the dancing the guests could just not stay in their seats.

When the night was over and the banquet ended everyone was light hearted and in good cheer. Even when the time came to say goodbye to their friends the somber moment was overcome with the memory of last nights party, and as they prepare to leave for their destinations, whether it was to their dens to slumber or for their long journey southward, they wished their friends good luck and promised that “the fall banquet was nice but I just can’t wait for the spring dance.”

With that in mind i penned this poem, recalling a time when religion had to be practiced and studied in hiding. When being discovered studying these sacred texts would lead to enslavement, torture, and death.

But despite all the tales we hear, rarely does it lead to actual change in our life…. I hope you enjoy.

The Lights

It would change my life, I was sure it would, this dream that came to me,

It took me back to days long gone, a time never again to be.
-

I saw him sneak, crawl, and creep his way up to the door,

The soldiers caught him, beat him, tore him, threw his body to the floor.
-

They could not see, as I could, his soul begin to rise,

Too caught up in the sport they were, taking joy in the child’s demise.
-

More and more they reached the door, some the childs’ fate to share,

And to the door I did approach, I knew not why, and yet I dared.
-

Why bother? I asked myself, they are rogues, thieves, and nothing more,

Yet ever on did I venture closing on that secret door.
-

Through the door, down the stairs, entering a tiny room,

Shining lights blinded me, cutting like blades through the gloom.
-

I saw not rogues but many children, an awesome glorious sight,

All around were wide eyed youth, each smiling, basking in the light.
-

The light poured forth from the tongue of one who risked his life to teach,

And in turn each word the children cried, till all heavens gates their call did breach.
-

I began to cry for I knew these words I’ve seen them time and time before,

But every time and time again I simply chose them to ignore.
-

Over the teacher’s voice my alarm call beckoned, drawing me from slumber so deep,

But this dream will surely change my life…starting tomorrow…for now I must sleep….

Funeral

A colorless room

Such emptiness in my heart

The tears from my eyes

-

The mournful touch of the stale air

The misery I now feel

The loss most of all

-

While I gain the perfect memory

While looking at old photos, and some of my favorite toys and books from when I was a kid, I got very emotional and sat down to pen the following piece.

-

I Never Aged

-

I never aged, I was once a child but never more

I never grew, I was once small but now that is hard to conceive

I simply awoke

-

When did my childhood end?

When did I change from being the guarded to the intrepid?

From crawling in the shadows of my elders, to sailing the sunrays all alone?

-

I noticed it suddenly

I had claimed it as mine for years, being “mature”

It took but one childish picture to open the floodgates of realization

-

What brought on the transformation?

Whence did I change from the child in the candy store

That it was to me they turned for payment, me? Am I not still the child?

No…

-

I never consented, I was to be child forever

I never agreed, it just came about, all at once, no hope or gate could halt it

I was a boat thrust into the sea with but the wind of my culture and schooling to fill my sails

-

Why did this have to happen?

Can’t we just live in the innocent purity of youth forever?

No longer can debts be paid with a childish smile, no time for you and me, only work,… and death

-

I never aged, I am still the child that is no more

I never grew, I am still small inside though large I may seem

I simply awoke this way, hoping this is but dream, only dreaming to hope

-

I never aged, the world aged me

I never agreed, the contract signed me

I never hope, hope is fallow in the world that aged me

Note the play on the sands of time… I was so proud of myself when I thought up this title.

The Hands of Time

I remember him well, His broad hands holding me, His deep voice lulling me to sleep, The promise of the world in his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my protector

I remember him well, His strong hands showing me what I had failed to see, His deep voice breaking as he told me how much more it hurt him than me, The hint of a tear in his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my discipliner

I remember him, His staunch hands holding me back from what I needed to do, His deep voice yelling driving me to the brink of madness, The hurt that came crawling out of his eyes,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my jailer

I remember him well, His hardened hands weathered in the winds of times, His deep voice laughing at the witty remarks I made, His eyes reflecting knowledge far beyond my reach,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my guide.

I remember him well, His frail hand trembling as he clung to life, His deep voice raspy as he strained to speak, The tears in his eyes that had long been dried out,

I remember him well, But most of all I remember those hands, The hands of my Hero.