Dev Friedlander's Blog, page 4

What Brings You Joy?

Today, as a mother of three children, there are many things that bring me joy. A cool breeze on a warm day, a movie with a happy ending, popcorn, blueberries, and of course my family. Before I had children, the things that brought me delight were physical gifts, praise and acts of kindness which I received from others. But after I had children, I have more joy in seeing praise and gifts given to them. In these past few weeks, I’ve been experiencing heaps of joy. My oldest daughter became a Bat Mitzvah. The Bat Mitzvah happens when a girl turns twelve and becomes obligated to observe the laws and customs of Judaism. The occasion is usually marked by a party to celebrate this important life event; transitioning from childhood to a stage of greater independence. At my daughter’s Bat Mitzvah party my heart swelled as I danced along with her and her many friends, who worked hard to make her glow with elation. They lifted her on high into the air on a chair, performed a song they wrote in her honor and danced their little hearts out. What could be better, I thought than seeing your child shine so brightly? I was sure that my daughter’s boundless joy was the greatest thing I could ever experience. And then she saw her grandfather at the edge of the dance floor. Illness has made mobility hard for him, the best he could do was sit in his wheelchair and watch from the side. My daughter broke away from her friends, took her grandfather’s hand, and with the help of others, he stood up in place and they danced. A circle formed around them as grandfather and granddaughter swayed together to the music, both smiles a mile wide. At that moment I realized there is an even greater joy than seeing my children happy. The greatest joy a parent can feel isn’t praise or gifts or even pride in their children’s accomplishments; rather it's seeing their child bring happiness to someone else. I’d love to hear what brings you joy. Please comment below.

In Defence of the Cliche

I have been recently watching a family drama on Netflix, “The Good Witch.” My husband saw one episode and won’t go near it again. It’s a sweet show; wholesome, charming, sometimes boring and dare I say it…. cliché. At first, I thought the show had lazy writers who couldn’t think of new ideas. Then I realized the writers of this show know exactly what they are doing, the clichéd writing is overtly intentional. Why you may ask would a show intentionally write a script that isn’t fresh, unique or even relevant to the times? Aren’t we taught in primary school to run from the clichés? Even basic writing courses preach cliché abstinence, having students strike as many clichés from their work as possible. But should they always, or is there a time for a cliché or two? Are all clichés as abhorrent as they are made out to be? The answer, at least in my opinion is no. Before all my literary friends start shrieking in horror let me explain with a story... I, like most people, enjoy listening to music on the radio. And I, like most people, have songs that I dislike so much, I change the station every time they are played. Yet here in Israel, the music selection is limited, especially when it comes to English songs. So now, whenever I hear an English song playing, I turn up the volume. It doesn’t’ matter if it’s a song I can’t stand; if it’s in English I’m happy. Why am I happy despite the sometimes-horrid lyrics? Because it’s in a familiar language. That’s what I think the intrinsic value of a Cliché is. It provides some comfort to the reader, viewer or listener just by being familiar. Think about the stories you enjoy reading and the movies you like watching. I’ll bet there is some overlap in the plots. I’ll even wager that you enjoy certain books and movies because you recognize something familiar in them. There is a reason some tales are as old as time; we find the enjoyable plot timeless. That’s not to say that clichés should take the place of good writing. They shouldn’t! Thrills and chills are what gives a story momentum. Yet one or two good old clichéd plotlines give the reader an avenue they can be sure of and yes, some readers find that very comforting. Now that I understand the reasoning behind some of the writing of “The Good Witch,” I can enjoy the show. I may be able to say the actor’s lines before they say them and easily predict how the episode ends by the second scene, but I’ll give the show credit it deserves because it’s downright soothing. I curl up with a cup of tea and enjoy the small-town scenery, the charming little love stories and gaze longingly at the American conveniences I no longer have. It makes me feel cheerful, nostalgic, and safe; a feeling that is much appreciated when life is uncertain.

How Sweet is a Seat

There is an old saying that a small act of kindness can make a big difference. It’s a nice saying, but honestly, I didn’t believe it until recently. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate kind gestures and random acts of kindness, but they often don’t change my day. That was until I experienced one recently that has affected me so much, I still think about a few weeks later. Growing up, praying on Yom Kippur was marked by the tunes we sang in the synagogue and the hunger I felt by fasting. When I moved to Israel, there was a third thing Yom Kippur came to mean for me, tight quarters. Compared to the spaciousness of American Synagogues, in Israel I often find myself shoulder to shoulder with the next person, and that’s if I’m lucky enough to have a seat at all. This year I was lucky, I had a chair with my name it. But my oldest daughter is about to turn twelve and I wanted her to join me this year in services. The Synagogue sent around an email warning for people to please sit in the seats allocated for them. When I got to my place, a woman was sitting next to me, her daughter by her side. There was an empty seat at the end of the row, but my daughter didn’t want to sit there away from me, she wanted to sit next directly next to me. “I’m sorry”, the woman replied, and really want could she do? The rules were the rules and if my daughter wanted a seat, she had to sit by herself. Services started and we began to pray. I looked around for my daughter. I saw her through the window, walking around outside, staring at the kids on the playground, a prayer book in her hand. The woman sitting next to me looked from me and then to my daughter. Without being asked, she moved over a seat so we could sit together. I waved my hand signaling to her that she didn’t have to. The woman replied, “forget the rules, go tell your daughter she can pray with her mother.” My daughter spent the rest of Yom Kippur by my side, saying all the prayers with me. I honestly still have tears when I think of this episode. I know it seems small, moving a seat, but it wasn’t small to me. The woman could have been scolded for doing what she did; I had seen it happen in the past. But she felt that it was important for my daughter to be next to me. I’m sharing this story because we all do small acts of kindness which we sometimes brush aside, thinking that they weren’t that big or important. Well, while they may not grandiose, they most certainly are important. Maybe letting someone cut you in traffic helped them get to a meeting on time. Maybe lending someone a dollar in line helped them take home a full cart of groceries. Or maybe moving over a seat helped a mother and daughter share a moving experience together, one which the mother (me) will never forget.