Iris Ruth Pastor's Blog, page 27

November 6, 2020

Turning Churning Emotions into Productivity!

This week was quite an emotionally packed week no matter whom you voted for POTUS. Trump and Biden fight it out to the end as election officials faced long hours and close vote counts in battleground states.


History was made on many fronts. So what better thing to do in the days following this historical election and its aftermath than to document our feelings and reactions for the generations to come? Our descendants will surely be posing questions to us on this notable moment in our history.


There’s a vehicle to do just that: an Ethical Will


What is an Ethical Will?

An ethical will is a way to preserve our values and impressions for our family both while we are still alive and after we pass. Ethical wills are written when facing challenges, marking milestones events or passing on our impressions of a certain time in our lives that impacted us greatly. This is a great vehicle for imparting life lessons that we want to pass on to our kids and grandkids – to clarify our values and visions – to expound on what we believe in, and give context to what we have done with our lives.


As Rachel Freed says in her book Women’s Lives, Women’s Legacies, “If our lives are to have lasting meaning, we must use them as a sacred link, consciously connecting the past and the future.” We do this by putting into words and offering our articulated legacy to loved ones while we are still alive – so it becomes a gift to both the present and the future.


When we create an ethical will, we learn about ourselves, reflect on our life, articulate what we stand for, tell stories that illustrate our values, and pass on something for perpetuity. Ethical Wills provide something tangible to return to over time to measure how our thinking has evolved.




Sample story starters for an Ethical Will on this election cycle:



What I have learned about my values as I witnessed this election cycle……
Living through this election, I believe an important lesson learned was…
Remember that one person can make a difference. Why you make your life worthwhile when you vote….
In the aftermath of this election, I learned why it is important to listen closely to those who think and vote differently than me…..
The event during this election cycle that had the biggest impact on me was….
How I view the United States of America in the light of the results of the Biden/Trump election of 2020 and what hopes I have for the future….
Here’s some historical facts to keep in mind on why I value the right to vote so highly….

Why write an Ethical Will?

We are obliged to record our personal values and family stories in order to strengthen the fabric of civilization – and to make sure that our perspective is preserved and the life lessons we have learned are communicated.


As Marian Wright Edelman said, “My parents’ example and messages keep me grounded when I am tempted to lose sight of what is important amidst the mounting demands of work and family and a culture that values things and style and packaging and publicity over substance and service and concrete action.”


An Ethical Will can be long or short.

An Ethical Will can be saved on the computer or written on archival, acid free paper and stored in a safe space.

An Ethical Will can be free flowing or stilted, eloquent or stream of consciousness.

It doesn’t matter.


An ethical will is a timeless gift from the heart that our children and our children’s children will thank us for, bless us for and love us for writing.


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,



Iris Ruth Pastor


PS: I’ll be participating in the expo below via a pre-recorded interview centering on women and eating disorders.


Treat Yo Self Feel Better Expo

November 13-15


Here is the link to register: https://maryrosefoundation.org/expo/



PS #2: if you’d like to delve deeper into Ethical Wills, here are two excellent resources:

Ethical Wills by Barry K. Baines

So That Your Values Live on – Ethical Wills and How to Prepare Them by Jack Riemer and Nathaniel Stampfer

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Published on November 06, 2020 11:05

October 30, 2020

Where’s all your junk going to end up?

My kids would say I definitely have too much time on my hands – and they are probably right. Cautiously spending as much time as possible at home cocooning during Covid encourages over scrutiny of my possessions.


With a plethora of time on my hands, I begin documenting which of my husband’s and my possessions are just that: possessions. And making carful note of what are family heirlooms worthy of passing down – along with the back story of each item.


Our house is plant heavy, bursting with books and accompanied by an over-abundance of scented candles. Plants die. Books are replaced by Kindle. Candles burn out.


   What’s lasting?


   What has a history?


   What tells a story?


   Those are the items worth keeping and worth the time and effort to tell their story.


Take the curio cabinet gracing the front hall – do my children know their great Uncle Izzie hand-carved it?  Do my kids know that there are some irreplaceable treasures amidst the junk inside that cabinet. And would they know the difference between the two?


Here are two separate items from the cabinet. The cup and saucer on the right is Royal Grafton Fine Bone China made in  England – part of a collection of cups and saucers my grandmother bought with great pleasure and with money squeezed from her and my grandfather’s flower shop proceeds – proceeds which were often meager at best. The delicately flowered mini mug? Mass produced. Made in China. Absolutely no sentimental attachment. I bought it recently from a local second-hand shop for 45 cents simply because I liked both its petite size and the floral pattern.


Obviously, I’m saving letters from my dad to his older sister during the closing years of World War 2, when he was stationed in England and his B-17 crew were flying frequent bombing raids over Germany.



And obviously I’m saving swords brought over by a nameless relative when he immigrated from Russia around the turn of the 20th Century. (Regrettably, the exact details of the swords’ back story have been lost.)



And then there is my mother-in-law’s dining room breakfront bought with the $500 my father-in-law received from the US government after returning stateside in 1946. He had served honorably in the Army and was part of the troops liberating Auschwitz. My mother-in-law often said they needed everything when they first set up house keeping  – pots and pans and dishes – but the dining room credenza stole her heart and so that’s where the $500 went. I cherish its presence in my home.



Okay, I admit. My house is over run with books, books and more books. I’m sure most of them will be donated to the library or sold for pennies at a garage sale once my husband and I depart this earth.


But there are a few very special ones that I am singling out as worthy of keeping.


From left to right above: The green volume of books contain paper copies of every single issue of The American Israelite during my tenure as editor.


The orange and the blue book were our first readers that my husband and I both read in 1953 at Bond Hill Elementary School.


Wedged in between: My mom’s tattered and old Settlement cookbook from 1955 – abounding with her personal markings on many of the pages. It’s a book where so many family favorite recipes were first discovered.


Coffee mugs chart family history – don’t be so quick to toss out random mugs denoting past events and family members.


I don’t necessarily care which of my kids or grandkids ends up lugging our stuff home – it’s more about choosing what personally calls out to them when I’m no longer here. And I feel I’m doing my part by telling the story of the things my husband and I have chosen to populate our own home.


And I hope by my writing this blog it jumpstarts you into giving some thought to what possessions are important enough for your heirs to know about and which you are okay with ending up on a card table labeled “miscellaneous chotckas $1 per bag.”


If our stuff ends up in a cherished spot in my loved ones’ abodes, I’m happy.


And if not? If our “stuff” ends up on a card table, piled high admist a bunch of discolored silver pieces and stained cloth napkins, grouped together at an estate sale, following our demise? That’s okay too.


Because I cared.

Because I tried.

Because I noted.

The rest is up to them.


Keep Preserving Your Bloom

Iris Ruth Pastor 


PS: Here I am out at a voting precinct waving a sign for my son Harry, who is running for local office. This cute teenager comes up to me while riding his bike and asks about the election. His closing remark before pedaling off: “For an old lady, you sure have pretty teeth.”

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Published on October 30, 2020 12:06

October 23, 2020

Why I Love Getting Up Each Morning

Why do I love getting up every morning?



My exercising as soon as I hop out of bed sets me up for a healthy-minded day
My short daily prayer expresses my gratitude
The Calm app sends me off on a serene, mindful tract

provides me:
And The Writers Almanac

mental stimulation
an appreciation of our fellow human beings
an unending and interesting historical tidbits highlights authors and poets, plus introducing me to new ones



Here’s two delightful excerpts from two poets:


“Possibilities” by Linda Pastan


Today I drove past a house

we almost bought and heard

through the open window music

made by some other family.


We don’t make music ourselves, in fact

we define our differences

by what we listen to.


And what we mean by family

has changed since then

as we grew larger then smaller again

in ways we knew would happen

and yet didn’t expect


“The Splits” by Connie Wanek


 “The world of my youth was divided

into girls who could and girls who couldn’t

slide casually to the floor,

one leg aft and one fore, while their faces

retained a sprightly cheer..,


Yet the splits seemed less a skill

than a gift of birth: Churchillian pluck

combined with a stroke of luck

like a pretty face with a strong chin.


One felt that even as babies

some girls were pre-dispositioned.


Here’s some historical tidbits worth noting:


October 11: It was on this day in 1975 that Saturday Night Live had its premiere, with George Carlin as host. The first sketch had Michael O’Donoghue as an ESL teacher attempting to teach English to his Eastern European student, John Belushi. Janis Ian and Billy Preston played music, Andy Kaufman and the Muppets were special guests, and Paul Simon made an appearance.


October 11: This is the birthday of the longest-serving First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt, born in New York City (1884), who said, “A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water.”


During World War I, she went off to Europe and visited wounded and shell-shocked soldiers in hospitals there. Later, during her husband’s presidency, she campaigned hard on civil rights issues — not a universally popular thing in the 1930s and 1940s, or in 2020…


She also said: “You wouldn’t worry so much about what others think of you if you realized how seldom they do.”


October 14Theodore Roosevelt was shot at a campaign stop on this day in 1912… when John Schrank, an unemployed saloonkeeper, shot him with a Colt revolver from a distance of five feet. Schrank intended to stop him from pursuing a third term as president…The crowd tackled the shooter, but Roosevelt’s composure was not ruffled in the least. He asked Schrank why he’d done it, and turned the man over to the police when he received no answer. Roosevelt then coughed experimentally into his hand, and deduced that the bullet had not penetrated his lungs, because he didn’t cough up any blood. He insisted on proceeding to the Milwaukee Auditorium, where he delivered a 90-minute speech as scheduled.


He began by calling for quiet, and then told the stunned crowd: “I don’t know whether you fully understand that I have just been shot… He opened his coat to reveal his bloodstained shirt, and credited the 50-page speech in his breast pocket for saving his life.


Roosevelt blamed the media for provoking the shooter: “It is a very natural thing,” he said, “that weak and vicious minds should be inflamed to acts of violence by the kind of awful mendacity and abuse that have been heaped upon me for the last three months by the papers.”


He also predicted that such shootings would become more commonplace, should the government fail to care for the well-being of all its citizens.


In the end, Roosevelt came in second to Democrat Woodrow Wilson…Schrank’s bullet remained lodged in Roosevelt’s rib for the rest of his life.


The secret to waking up happy? Having something to look forward to. 


Subscribe to The Writer’s Almanac:

Listen to the audio

Subscribe to this email newsletter

Subscribe to the Apple Podcast

Enable on Alexa


And you will have something to look forward to also.


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on October 23, 2020 12:06

October 16, 2020

Getting Past Estrangement

I remember years ago, when I was married to my first husband, traveling regularly from Florida to Ohio with my two small sons to visit my parents. Saying goodbye after an extended stay in my hometown was agonizing – my mother would cry uncontrollably and lament the unfairness of me living nearby my husband’s family and not my own. All I wanted to do was distance myself from her pain as quickly as possible. And the more miles that separated us, the calmer I felt.



I thought about that endlessly looping dynamic for years. Why my mom seemed to suffer so much more acutely than I did. Why there was such a sheer imbalance of emotional intensity. It was brought to my attention more recently in regard to comments made by my friends’ adult children and their offspring:


My son just stated driving – we used to watch all sports programs together – now he is just as likely as to be over at a friend’s house watching a ball game than at home with me hanging out. 


My favorite person to spend Saturday afternoon with is my 5 year-old little girl – and she with me. Wonder how long that will last. 


Karl Pillemer, author of Fault Lines, gave me the key to all the above imbalances:


Parents are more invested in their adult children than adult children are in their parents. Studies show that…parents view the relationship as more important and express greater commitment to it. This imbalance comes from the different relationship histories and developmental stages of each generation.…parents see their children as a continuation of themselves – their legacy. The offspring, although attached to their parents, strive for independence and autonomy… Accumulated research points to this fact: in general, parents care more. They, therefore, have more to lose in an estrangement.  


Estrangement between any two family members is a culmination of a long history of tension and disappointment, notes Pillemer. It is significant and widely toxic. The dreaded phrase uttered from one family member to another: I never want to see you again is a phrase that too often ushers in a formal declaration of estrangement and collateral damage for generations to come. Its, says Pillemer, is a “before and after moment in which everything changed irrevocably.” Angry rumination follows – as does silence, stand-offs and stonewalling. Past history shifts as it in interpreted in light of the volcanic event.


However, there are those who were able to bridge their rifts – not because their situations were easy to resolve – but because they were able to see the personal benefit of ending the estrangement – of dropping the weight of anger, hurt feelings and negativity that had plagued them for years.


THEY DID IT FOR THEMSELVES.


What did that entail?

In estrangements, both parties have composed narratives that support their sense of self and the way they think about the relationship. Estranged individuals often disagree dramatically on the meaning of the pivotal event. Those who were able to reconcile (Pillemer refers to them as Reconcilers) let go of both the need to align the two versions of the past and to agree on the past. Starting from the present was the key. (And individual counseling and therapy invariably helped this process.)


How to cross the chasm:

Successful reconcilers changed their expectations. They stopped expecting the other person to become someone he or she is not or stopped expecting that person to live up to their values. Both parties have to settles for less than they desired to restore the relationship – moving from seeking an ideal relationship to realistically attempting the best connection possible.


What’s in the reconciler’s tool kit?

Setting clear limits and boundaries

Making sure their own needs are met

Protecting oneself

And realizing “you can go home again, but it well may be a different ‘home.’”


Whichever it is, it’s definitely worth preserving.


 



Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on October 16, 2020 12:44

October 9, 2020

The Secret So Many Hide

Estrangement – what an ugly harsh sounding word – jarring to the ears in fact.


The dictionary definition of estrangement is to turn away in feeling or affection, make unfriendly or hostile, alienate the affections of.


Some synonyms – break-up, rupture, schism.


Estrangements are shrouded in secrecy and shame.

Estrangement is a stigma.


It’s no wonder. As author Christopher Lasch says, we think of family as “a haven in a heartless world.” Families are idealized as being unwaveringly loyalty. Endlessly supportive. Sporting unbreakable bonds.


Those who have experienced estrangement as the one who cut off the relationship or as the one who had the relationship cut off by someone else – all share one thing in common: a sense of being alone.


Statistics, however, do not bear out this assumption.


According to Karl Pillemer, PhD, in his newly released book Fault Lines – Fractured Families and How to Mend Them, over one quarter of Americans surveyed reported currently being estranged from a relative – translating into 67 million people.



What leads a person to break-off a key connection?

Done trying

Done working to make the relationship better

Done accommodating demands

Done overlooking intolerable behavior

Done apologizing for a lifestyle to someone who does not approve,

Done with disrespect for a spouse or partner


Often one key event usually triggers the estrangement.


Pillemer notes that there has been a dramatic increase in the human life span. Therefore, the amount of time children spend as adult offspring can likely be 30 to 50 years. Thus, our family relationships affect us for many decades – whether positive, negative or both. Past conflicts, violated and/or unmet expectations, the lasting effects of divorce, in-law issues, money and inheritance, unmet expectations and value and lifestyle differences are all fertile areas of estrangement cultivation.


What is the effect on the estranged parties?

Deep sadness

A rudderless feeling of loss

Chronic stress

Separation anxiety

Pain from rejection

Uncertainty due to the physical absence, but psychological presence

Disruption of social capital resources – sources of financial and practical support that family members can tap into


Unfortunately, estrangement does not just stop with the family members intimately involved. The entire family/kinship network often feels the ripple effect. The collateral damage Is real and deep.


Estrangement:

Starts a tradition of exclusion and isolation

Stresses those who often have to choose one family member over the other

Damages generations to come


Many estrangements spring from the explosive power of a single event, but in fact may have been building up for years or decades as a long history of pain and disappointments. Whether it’s a pivotal incident or an accumulation of hurts, people in estranged situations often echo many of the same thoughts:

It never stops hurting

It’s taken 10-20 years off my life

The estrangement is an open wound

There is a sadness in me that just won’t go away

I lost faith and trust in myself

It’s like a death, but with no funeral or closure


Next week, I’ll be exploring the path forward. AND THERE IS A PATH FORWARD AND AN END TO THE PAIN. In the meantime,


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor


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Published on October 09, 2020 12:02

October 2, 2020

A Week (or 7 days or 168 hours) with my Sister!

Day One: Arrival

Tried to unpack my stuff in my sister’s guest room, but no empty drawers. Immediately a flash of intense irritation swept over me – until I realized my guest room sported no empty drawers either.


I very patiently began teaching my sister Maj Jong.


Day Two:

Skipped my non-fat vanilla yogurt for breakfast and ate a calorie laden, pistachio flavored muffin instead – right along with my sister.




I patiently continued teaching my sister Maj Jong.


The day was rather uneventful unless you count:

My sister’s favorite pizza place misplacing our dinner order.

Running around looking for the diamond necklace that fell off my sister’s neck.

Frantically hunting for my brother-in-law’s ear pods that had miraculously disappeared on his dog walking soiree.

And my missing list of toiletries that I needed to buy at Walgreens.


We discussed our medical issues in great detail

Ate more muffins

And went to bed early in a self-induced food coma.


Day Three:

My sister introduced me to country folk singer Miranda Lambert.

And we listened to her song “The House That Built Me”.

And cried.

And then we started on my niece’s home-baked apple cake.


I continued teaching my sister Maj Jong.


We were interrupted intermittently by Amazon delivering numerous boxes in all sorts of provocative shapes and sizes – boxes that did not live up to their exterior potential, however:

Lotion for restless leg syndrome

Eye cream for crow’s feet

Shoe inserts for fallen arches


Day Four: 

I continued to find stimulating reading material in various spots in my sister’s family room:



We went through old pictures.

And the tears flowed.

When we saw what we looked like years ago:



(As opposed to today)

We boo-hooed even more.


Then, I very pleasantly joked with my sister about perhaps considering taking a break from the Maj Jong lessons.

She was clearly offended.


Day Five:

After serious and prolonged deliberation, coupled with a liberal dose of rationalization, my sister and I decided we really weren’t too old to wear our hair in pony tails, held up with scrunchies.




We decided that our elderly relatives – who were 65 and 72 respectively in the picture below – should probably pass on the pony tails though – somehow they don’t look the type.




Not like us. Tee Hee.


In an effort to divert her from Maj, I off-handedly complimented my sister on her superbly organized kitchen drawers:



She still insisted the Maj Jong lessons continue.


Day Six:

At that point, our female duo was oozing an excess of estrogen. My brother- in-law retreated to his man cave – the media room on the second floor – to watch whatever sports were on. We haven’t seen him since.


Day Seven:

So weird – the Maj Jong cards are missing. Guess we can’t continue our Maj Jong lessons.


As I was packing to go home, four realizations hit me:

I hadn’t had to brew coffee for my early morning cup.

I didn’t have to shop for the groceries I had eaten.

And I didn’t have to cook the meals I did partake in.

And at breakfast, lunch and dinner, my sister had kept me well supplied with salt from her elegant salt dispenser – without me even prodding her to produce it.



Maybe I should just stay here permanently – living the life of ease – with my brother-in-law meal planning and food shopping and my sister anticipating my every need. (I just have to check with my brother-in-law, who has yet to emerge from his man cave.)


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on October 02, 2020 14:19

September 25, 2020

Rediscovering a Lost Art








I am an emotional eater – more often than not I eat to soothe my feelings – not to fuel my body. And I’m a night eater. And, I’m just coming off of two evenings of back-to-back bingeing on sweets and carbs – fired by a “little bit” of wine.


Each night post-binge, I tossed and turned in a profound state of bloat, accompanied by an even more profound existential disappointment in myself.


I woke up each morning mad at myself – vowing to swear off all sweets until Thanksgiving and to refrain from putting one morsel of food within two inches of my mouth from 7pm until 10am in the morning.


Fat chance I will be triumphant.


Understanding how successful, powerful people operate helps us build the resilience necessary to tolerate setbacks and our own personal human failings and foibles. So quite naturally, I turned to the Notorious RBG – of blessed memory.


I know that the way Ruth Bader Ginsburg lived her life is certainly exemplary and worth remembering when we too encounter challenges, obstacles and disappointments – different though they may be from hers.


Therefore, since RBG passed away, I’ve been reading and watching everything I could possibly access about this diminutive tower of strength and integrity. And, although she worked out religiously and vigorously, no mention was ever made of her having weight issues. Judging from her thin, petite figure, I’d surmise out-of-control eating was not her vice.


But RBG certainly faced other challengers, roadblocks and obstructions when it came to things she deemed important. What could I learn from her playbook?


What did she do in times of frustration and disappointment?

When she was a first-year law student at Harvard, juggling studies and raising her infant daughter, her beloved husband Marty was diagnosed with testicular cancer. What did RBG do?

Shut down? Nope. RBG doubled down and worked harder and longer to fulfill the myriad of obligations and responsibilities thrust upon her.


RBG’s mother told her to be independent and not get angry.

I interpreted this as my bingeing patterns were MY problem to solve, but not through getting angry at myself.  By turning my emotional gas away from being self-punitive, I understood I should use that energy to propel myself into a positive action mode.


RBG’s mother-in-law told her to be a little deaf to some statements uttered. I learned from RBG to tune out unkind thoughts – especially those emanating from myself and directed at myself – that only engendered useless self-loathing.


Looking at things from a new, fresh perspective and expressing herself in simple words was another of RBG’s ways she expanded her wingspan. “When I’m sometimes asked ‘When will there be enough (women on the Supreme Court)?’ and my answer is: ‘When there are nine.’ People are shocked. But there’d been nine men, and nobody’s ever raised a question about that.” I will try to model that mindset.


In times of sheer exhaustion over a stalled process, I learned from RBG to parse out what’s important and dig in all the harder. I realize now it’s more important to develop sustainable eating habits that will lead to gradual weight loss than to swear off all sugar, carbs and wine for ten weeks.


I’m beginning to get it – I’m not trying to prove myself – I’m trying to improve myself. It’s not about winning, as much as growing – moving toward our fears as we explore the previously unexamined.


And passing down that incremental, can-do, giving-our-best attitude to our granddaughters.



Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on September 25, 2020 14:19

September 18, 2020

Rediscovering a Lost Art

Anne Bradstreet, America’s first published poet, died this week in 1692. She married at age 16 and bore her husband eight children. Unbeknownst to her, her brother- in-law sent her poems back to England to be published, assuring people that she did not shirk her wifely duties by stealing time to write poems. She was, after all, a Puritan.


I’m no Puritan – far from it – but I, too, often find it difficult to pursue pleasurable activities unless my “chores” are complete.


My grandmother and mother weren’t Puritans either – though they were hard working, diligent wives and mothers sticking to the tasks at hand. The exception was on Saturdays – when their playful, frivolous sides emerged. On almost every Saturday, the three of us would get dressed-up, ride the bus downtown and spend the afternoon lunching and shopping. Department stores were ubiquitous, bustling and bursting with merchandise.


Even at the age of five, I recognized that the shopping was less important than the actual event itself. It was an outing – an occasion – a way to delineate a weekday from a Saturday – a defined span of leisure and pleasure –– even if we didn’t find the perfect engagement gift for cousin Marsha or the purse to match our new navy-blue shoes.


By 4:00 o clock on those afternoons, I was grumpy and tired. My grandmother would surreptitiously pass me a box of Milk Duds on the bus ride home – lifting my flagging spirits immediately.


And though I didn’t realize it at the time – it was also a day to see firsthand how adult mothers and daughters operated that complex, push-pull relationship.


I miss those days.


Now I’m a grandmother. If I shop for my grandkids at all, it’s more apt to be online through an app. They send me a picture via their cell phone of just what they want and I order it.


Shopping today is a much different experience:

Expedient

Efficient

Constrained

Isolating

And certainly not bookended by much hands-on pleasure

We shop day or night

Rain or shine

Usually alone

Through our phones or laptops

For precise things

Guaranteed to arrive at a precise time


A week ago, I broke out of my self-induced, non-hands-on shopping pattern. I actually entered two small boutiques in the bowels of NYC that on any other day I would have walked by – being reluctant to use my time so playfully. But on that day, I indulged my whim.

At both, I was the only customer in the store.

The shop keeper gave me her full attention.

And I was not under any time constraints


What did I find?

Surprisingly, I tried on things I’d never have picked out for myself.

I actually enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror and taking time to consider how the piece I had on would work with the rest of my wardrobe.

And I listened both patiently and avidly to why the salesperson chose that particular piece and how she suggested wearing it.


I left with some truly great bargains.



(In fairness, shopping post-Labor Day in NYC for warm weather clothes you can wear in Florida over the winter – well, you’d have to be pretty, pretty dense not to run into great markdowns and bargains.)


On the other hand:

I devoted myself to the pure pleasure of shopping and rediscovered the creative lift I got from finding wardrobe pieces I adore.

I gave revenue infusion to a small, owner-operated store.

I had a pleasant exchange with an actual sales person.

I experienced instant gratification of walking out with a tangible purpose


Covid still reigns supreme, so I’m not advocating we all run out and engage in person-to-person shopping sprees right this moment. But I am saying that taking time to shop for pleasure and taking time to indulge in some actual face-to-face retail therapy has benefits far beyond the moment.


And seeking out those we cherish as companions in this process is the key addition. My mom and grandmother knew this instinctively. It’s something we need to re-discover and hold scared.


In closing, to my Jewish friends and family: A sweet New Year filled with Good Health, Peace, Serenity and Happiness today and always – L’Shanah Tovah


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on September 18, 2020 14:18

September 11, 2020

What gets to you?

If you are like most Americans, I’m willing to bet September 11, 2001 is at the top of your list of things that get to you. The events of that infamous day of wreckage and carnage reawakened our long dormant sense of vulnerability and of the importance of staying watchful and informed.


Another significant milestone is coming up next week – though perhaps less dramatic – but certainly as transformative: the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah.


We eat festive meals, indulge our sweet tooth, hear the blasts of the Shofar, while we desist from all work – both creative and non-creative alike.


And we ask the Almighty to grant us peace, prosperity and blessings in the upcoming year.


Rosh Hashanah presents the Jewish people with a key opportunity – to begin anew and establish a fresh directive – focusing on what we want for ourselves in the New Year – and not focusing on our past behaviors. Whew.


Here’s what I want for YOU and for ME:


     WE NEED TO BECOME BETTER LISTENERS


Hillel and Shammai were two great rabbis and leading sages who lived 2000 years ago. They each founded opposing schools of thought and would disagree about everything:

How to celebrate holidays

How to practice rituals

How to interpret ethical questions

Whom to allow into Jewish schools

What food could be eaten

And who could marry whom


History tells us they debated on at least 360 issues and that Hillel was usually more lenient and Shammai was more strict in their opinions.

Should you tell an ugly bride she is beautiful?

Shammai – No, one shouldn’t lie.

Hillel – All brides are beautiful, especially on their wedding day.

What are grounds for divorce?

Shammai – One can only divorce for serious transgressions.

Hillel – One can divorce for more trivial offenses, such as burning dinner. (I’d have set the world record in that case.)


WHAT DID THEY DO THAT WAS WORTH NOTING???

THEY LISTENED TO EACH OTHER

AND THEY WERE OPEN TO ADMITTING

THEY MAY BE WRONG


I am not a good listener. I only watch TV programs that agree with my views. I purposely avoid reading newspaper articles whose headlines differ from my opinions. I don’t consider that both sides of the political aisle may in some way be RIGHT or have some redeeming qualities. And I no longer actively socialize with friends who don’t share my views.


HOW CAN I DO BETTER? HOW CAN WE DO BETTER?


Let us refrain from attacking people and stick to attacking issues.Let us move our motivation beyond winning as the goal to solving the problem as the objective.


Let us find the best solution for everyone and try to maintain good relationships while constructively disagreeing.


Like Warren Buffet, let us actively seek advice from people we respect but disagree with – hopefully leading to open-minded debate.


Let us exercise discernment – to listen to many voices. And to understand our differences.


Though we may have wildly diverse opinions, I truly believe that we all have the utmost respect for democracy, freedom and justice – the ideals upon which our great country was founded.


An example: Supreme Court Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia held wildly different views on the law. She was very liberal and he was an outspoken conservative. As Ginsburg noted, “He gave her what she needed to strengthen her arguments.”


But the reciprocal benefits went far beyond that compelling reason to embrace others who have differing views. Ginsburg and Scalia connected over their love of opera and in 2015 Derrick Wang composed Ginsburg, sometimes known as Scalia/Ginsburg, a comic opera about the relationship between the Justices. Wang wrote a duet about their treasured friendship called “Best Buddies.” They are different, but they are one in their reverence for the constitution – and the institution they served.


https://www.msnbc.com/msnbc-quick-cuts/watch/gloria-steinem-at-women-s-march-don-t-try-to-divide-us-859808835869


I hope in the coming days that we stay informed and open minded, while making a concerted and sustained effort to discern truth from untruth. Let’s vote (only once, please) in November and just maybe – like Ginsburg and Scalia – leapfrog over our ideological differences and find a “best buddy.”


Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on September 11, 2020 14:18

September 4, 2020

It takes so little, truly, to turn a parent’s frown upside down.

It’s 1959. I am sitting on my twin bed on the second floor of our two-story colonial.




My GE transistor radio is on my night stand – blaring the song “A Teenager in Love” by Dion and the Belmonts.


I am annoyed. My little brother is pesty. My little sister too young to hang-out with.  My parents clueless.


Books are my salvation:

Seventeenth Summer

Marjorie Morningstar

The Diary of Anne Frank

And thanks to an ahead-of-the curve friend possessing precocious mental acuity – Miracle at Carville.


As I do today, I read for a variety of reasons:

Diversion

Escape

Information

Enjoyment

Plot Character

Knowledge

Expanding vocabulary

Finding out how others view the world


Many things have changed since 1959. My transistor radio is in some junk heap, replaced by my trusty cell phone and Pandora. My brother is no longer pesty. My childhood home has known many other owners. And my parents are gone. My sister has become more “hanging-out worthy.”




But my love of books is still enduring, voracious and strong. And I keep buying them like crazy and finding crazy ways to store them.




Here’s a book that checks all the boxes of why I avidly read:


All Adults Here  by Emma Straub


All Adults Here is a wealth of SAW: Stand Alone Wisdom. Straub’s priceless observations prove that there is angst (and joy) at every age and every stage –  affording us the opportunity to learn through someone else’s hard won knowledge, not our own.


The following Stand-Alone Wisdom tidbits are too enlightening not to share:


The blessing of being a grandparent was knowing all the things that had to be done and having the time to do them.


It was hard to keep a secret in a small town but as Astrid had learned, everything was easier when you were a woman over fifty. That’s what made Astrid cry, she realized.


Adults – even nice ones like his parents, who understand that their children are autonomous human people and not robots created just to please them – couldn’t remember what is was like…


When you were in your childhood house on a regular basis, it was harder to separate the past and the present – nostalgia only worked with distance.


So much of becoming an adult was distancing yourself from your childhood experiences and pretending they didn’t matter, then growing to realize they were all that mattered and composed 90 percent of your entire being.


Mothers-in-law don’t matter in marriages, except as points of contrast.


There is nothing more stable than an elderly lesbian. 


The boys at her old school now seemed like…docile idiots for whom pizza solved any emotional difficulty.


At that moment, Cecelia was pretty sure she didn’t know anything about anything, and that she was the most pathetic teenager who had ever lived, but at least she knew what she was going to wear on the first day of school.


Perfection was impossible and failure inevitable.


Parents knew that the hardest part of parenthood was figuring out how to do the right thing twenty-four hours a day forever, and surviving all the times you failed.


That was the plan: pretend to be the person you’d like to be.


Doing stupid things didn’t have to be wasted on the young.


Sibling relationships were as complicated as any marriage, without the possibility of divorce.


She didn’t ask questions if she thought the answers would lead to conversations she wasn’t ready to have.


Memorial services were exactly like weddings – you never talked to the people whose names were on the invitation, and you spent the whole time catching up with acquaintances, while holding disposable plates and paper napkins


She wanted to be so indispensable to someone, to be so important, that a causal erasure was impossible.


Parents were supposed to be there. That was their whole job. Good, bad, whatever – the very lowest job requirement was to be there.


That was he problem with being part of a family: everyone could mean well and it could still be a disaster.


It took so little, truly, to turn a parent’s frown upside down.


What book does it for you?


What book helps you Preserve Your Bloom?


Iris Ruth Pastor

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Published on September 04, 2020 14:17