Rosh Hashannah and back-to-school often come close together on the calendar and this year they crash into each other.  The transition from summer-mode to school/Jewish New Year was sudden and somewhat harsh.  But, here we are, on the eve of the Jewish New Year poised to recognize another year in a foreign calendar.

As secular as my upbringing was and my currently identity as a  Jewish person is now, this holiday has come to signify a sweet time of year full of anticipation and hope.  Apples and honey have long symbolized the sweetness of the new year and I find it very ‘sweet’ that I get two New Years every year.  That feeling of starting fresh, clearing the slate and setting our sights on new expectations seems a fitting launch into the crispness of fall and the final quarter of the business year.

I’m happy to get two ‘new year’ moments of contemplation and renewal.  I invite you to take it too whether you celebrate Rosh Hashannah or not.

L’ Shana Tova

Running in the park this week, I was amused by the chatter I had going on in my own head.  (Yes, you are not the only crazy person who does this.)  On two occasions during the 45 minute run, I had a fantasy conversation with each of two particular individuals who I observed as I passed bye.

On the first pass, I said good morning to a man in his mid-thirties who was fishing.  He looked older than his years thanks to the stubble on his face, his humongous belly and the cigarette butt pursed in his lips that he bit down on as he barely opened his lips to return my greeting.  As I went by, I entered my fantasy face-off.  What if I turned around and approached him?

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure.”, he would answer.

“Do you mind being that unhealthy?”

“What?”, he would say befuddled.

“Do you mind being so unhealthy?”, I’d repeat.  “I’d love to see you care enough about yourself to give up smoking and eat better to get your health back.”

Before he could work up enough steam to rip my head off, I’d have turned back onto my running path and be gone.  He would never be able to catch me in the shape he was in, even though I might hear some choice words trailing off into the valley as I ran further away.

That was Fantasy Face-Off number one which kept me amused until I reached a spot a tenth of a mile down the way and began to smell what became an overpowering waft of cigar smoke.  I couldn’t determine where it was coming from because there was nobody near me, and then, as I was just about to pass it, just thirty feet from me, was a parked car with a man inside who had his arm draped out the open window and over the door brandishing a cigar as fat as a bratwurst.

I was warmed up from my last imaginary confrontation, so I felt embolded for this one.

“Would you mind putting out your cigar?”, I would ask.

“Yes, I do mind.”, he might say.

“Well, could I ask you then to put your cigar back inside the car and roll up your window? I am trying to enjoy the fresh air for a run and I am choking on the second hand smoke and stench.”

“That’s your problem.”, I’d expect to hear.

“Yes, it is.”, I’d say.  “And the cause of my problem, is you, so I am asking you to do something about it. If it were pleasant, you would be smoking your cigar inside your car without the ventilation you obviously need. Actually, you would probably love to be home relaxing with this cigar but whoever you live with has banned you from smelling up the house. And you cannot stand the smell in your car so you are sharing it with the trees and me.  It’s not OK.  In fact, I bet your lungs are not too happy about it either.  I wish you good health and I bid you goodbye.”

Now this guy could catch me in his car if he wanted to, but that is where I left the fantasy and went on with my run.  I was still amused at the safety of my face offs, but then I went all serious on myself.

“You say you are a spiritual teacher, you are interested in the higher road, the higher way.  Aren’t you judging people and isn’t that wrong?”, I thought as I began a face off with myself.

“Well, how spiritual is it to say nothing and mind my own business?”, I gently asked.  “I am inviting each of them to look at something that when faced, could lead to taking a different action that is proven to improve their bodily condition and is likely to affect other areas of their life positively.  Is that unloving?”

This made me think about the work of missionaries and doctors feeling they know better than native people and must save them from themselves by educating them and vaccinating them.  It all sounds right until the older populations begin to suffer as the younger generations leave for more education and opportunity or the overcrowding and lack of food that is created by those who were vaccinated living longer.  Is it right to intervene?

What do you think?  Some people think it’s OK to intervene when a parent is being harsh with a child at the mall.  Others walk bye.  Some people will get in the middle of a couple arguing if fists start to fly. Others scatter. These are the everyday things and then helping those without resources is another, but not entirely.

So, is it OK to approach someone who is not doing what they can for themselves?  I would not want anyone walking up to me and suggesting I should work out more as a way to beautify the planet.  But smoking?  Injecting your bad habit into the air for all of us?

Weigh in.  What do you think?  And what’s your latest Fantasy Face-Off?

The Unsinkable Maya Rose

If you were following on Facebook, you know what happened at nationals.  I did not disappear in the middle of my conFEISsions because Maya did not place.  My computer melted down and is now back!

But yea, Maya did not make the final cut after two rounds of fierce dancing. In Irish-dance-competition language, Maya did not recall and therefore, did not place.  We found out after the marks were handed out that she only missed a spot in the recall by four places.  She got very close and came in ahead of almost half of the competitors.

It started as a magical day.  There was no FEISitude (my word for a snappy attitude on a feis day)!  We got the wig and make up on without any tension, but that all changed once we got into the competition room.  Maya was distracted by friends and other dancers practicing and did not want to take care of the routine preparations like glueing her socks to her legs.  Yes, if you do not glue the socks on, they don’t stay up and look very sloppy.

There is a lot of waiting around at these bigger competitions but we settled in and got ready to find out what order the girls danced in.  Maya danced at about the middle of the rotation and she really did great.  These were all podium-winner dancers from all over North American and a couple from Britain and Ireland.  The judges would be hard pressed to find mistakes so the judging must have come down to very fine details.  Tough, tough competition.

We (Me, Maya, her teachers and friends) were shocked that she did not recall.  She had danced so well.  Maya was so gracious.  I learned from watching her.  She held it together until we were out of the huge ballroom and in a private corner near an exit.  She had a good sob and I just broke up inside, only letting a little mist cloud my eyes.  I wish I could answer her pleas to understand why she didn’t make the cut.

Sixty dollars and a Nationals souvenir hoodie/consolation prize later, we got on our way to have a swim and relax before heading back for the awards ceremony.  Maya was completely supportive of all her friends who had placed in their own competitions.  One of them qualified for Worlds. Understandably, she did not want to stay to see the awards for her competition.

The capper to a disappointing day was that I moved out us out of the luxury Swan and Dolphin hotel to Disney’s Pop Century to be on the meal plan and do all things Disney.  It was a major bummer to move from an imitation of the ‘heavenly bed’ to a motel-like one.  To make matters worse, Disney must be cutting back because our bedspreads, blankets, sheets and towels looked like they had been through the ringer.  Hairs and stains in the bed were where I drew the line. Maya was in a heap of tears which I knew were more about the whole day than the crappy room, but the disappointments had just grown to a head.

The next day, I politely requested all NEW blankets, sheets and bedspreads and no one blinked an eye. I know it was done because the old ones were in the hall when we got back.

A new day had also brought a new focus–FUN at Disney.  Maya did not mention the competition again.  She shook it off faster than I did, to tell the truth.  A few more gray hairs for me and a growth experience for Maya. Sigh.

A small drama that could have been a big drama emerged last night shortly after my first ConFEISsion.  We only had one Ghillie. For you non Feis folks, that is one of the dance shoes an Irish Dancer wears.  The other is a hard shoe for the tap-like sound and this is the soft one that supports those magical one-legged leaps through the air. All that to say, we found we had only one shoe.  Drama ensued.

We called home to see if it could be sent.  Mark (husband) turned around for home midway to a Fourth of July gathering (Yes, us Jersey folks celebrate early.) to search for the shoe.  My thinking was that he could still make FedEx. As he searched the house,  I tried to manage my dancer who was holding back her emotions better than I expected her to.  Low and behold, no shoe was found at home and for the cost of the FedEx, I knew there’d be a vendor on site eventually who could sell us a new pair.  Maya turned it around quickly and declared that a new, stiffer shoe just may help her be a little more bouncy in her steps.

“Okay!”, I said enthusiastically to her declaration as I mentally worried that new shoes could be a little painful without a chance to break them in.

Well, off to bed we went and today we hit The Magic Kingdom in some mild rain by the opening bell at 9am.  We lucked out BIG TIME.  We waited no more than 15 minutes for anything and hit Space Mountain three times and some other favorites twice.  My feis mom friend, Megan and Maya’s buddy Carli were our hangout mates today and we made a great team.  It took Megan and I longer than we had hoped to drag the girls out of the park, though.  We hoped for some R&R for them before practicing, but they were having too much fun.

Back at the hotel, we did get those new shoes.  They are stiff, but Maya gave them a good workout as she and Carli practiced.  Actually, their practice was more of a fight for turf as the hotel is now jam-packed with Irish dancers and those ‘Starpower’ dancers (not “Dancepower” as I mistakenly called them yesterday) who are here for the duration of our competition.  Carli and Maya kept moving further down the grand hall in front of the ballroom as older girls with longer legs and louder music moved in on their turf. Nonetheless, they were great with each other, sharing floor space and feedback to get their best to happen tomorrow.

So far, the moms are behaving.  No ugly cat fights or nastiness, but you can feel everyone’s tension rising as the start of the big competition gets closer.

Maya is asleep as I write this after a major chocolate high from dinner.  I am trying to forget how un-Weight-Watcher-like my dinner was and hoping I can sleep.  The high-drama starts tomorrow.  I’ll try to give two reports while we wait for results.  Just writing that throws me into a wave of nausea.  I’ll get introspective about why later.

There is no hiding being an Irish Dancer when you get on a plane. It’s not the music they listen to that gives them away nor the red hair and freckles (there are dancers of every background).  The identifying mark is the strange shape of one particular piece of luggage—the dress bag.  Imagine a triangular shape with the top point cut off to blunt edge. Add a strap and you have an Irish Dance Dress Bag.  We saw several of them boarding our flight from Newark to Orlando today.

Very few knowing glances were exchanged until a fellow mom and I both waited for the passengers to settle in so we could put our dress bags in the overhead.  She put hers up first, I went to follow when another passenger abruptly shoved his bag right on top of her dress.  I quickly got her dress to safety and added mine to the pile.  She closed the overhead making sure no one else messed with our investments.  Only a feis mom can understand what a wonderful and protective bit of teamwork that was. (these dresses rival wedding gowns in cost!)

The flight was uneventful and once settled into our hotel, we did a little exploring and enjoyed the pool.  Then a sudden thunderstorm. Not unusual in Florida, but this one is still going five hours later as I write this.

As the day grew older and more dancers arrived, the din of the hotel and lobby got louder.  The rooms were not enough to contain the Irish dance practices so they could not help but pour out into the hallways.  That would be enough to start the vibe of competition, but to make it more exciting we are sharing the hotel with a ‘Dancepower’ dance competition.  There are dancers of every ilk everywhere!!!

Maybe it was not such a good idea to watch “Toddlers in Tiaras” last night before I fell asleep.  Today’s dancers strewn all over the hotel in garish make up and costumes were like a continued nightmare from the night before.  Irish dancers’s crazy wigs, sparkly dresses and make up are tame compared to the sites I saw today.  I could not tell if they were a convention of teens and preteens or a Liza Minelli impersonator’s conference.

The drama may only grow from here.  As Maya ices her foot which she swears doesn’t hurt and I wrap up this conFEISsion, I know the adventure has only just begun.  More soon.