Xianna Michaels's Blog, page 8

Tribute to My Father

My father passed away at the age of 94 on July 4th weekend. He was a sweet, smart, kind man who adored my mother and all his family, and we all knew it. He had a wonderful sense of humor and loved to make people laugh. He also had a rock solid sense of integrity and an innate spirituality that led him to embrace Observant Judaism as an adult.

He was a Depression baby, the child of immigrants, who grew up in terrible poverty but managed to raise his children in suburbia. He was a World War II veteran, and one of the gifts that he passed on to me was his deep, abiding love for America. He believed it was a blessèd place, especially for Jews. It was to him truly the Golden Land of his parents’ dreams.

At his funeral the rabbi said that in the last few years when he walked my father in his wheelchair to the synagogue on the Sabbath, my dad asked him to stop every time they saw an American flag. They would stop and my dad would salute.

He died at 3:45 AM on July 5th at home in New York. But for me in California, it was 12:45 AM . When my sister called me with the sad news, I could still hear the fireworks. As my dearest friend said, he was a patriotic soldier to the end.

Dad was all that was good about this country. He understood its greatness and its boundless opportunity. He taught his children to embrace all it had to offer while giving to those less fortunate.

Everyone who knew him loved him. We will dearly miss him. May peace be upon him.

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About the Camels and the Chickens or: Reflections on a Marriage Contract

At the end of June my husband and I will celebrate , G-d willing, our 45th wedding anniversary. The number seems surreal to me, but as we got married in 1970, I suppose it must be true! And so it seems like a good time to reflect upon our marriage contract, known in Hebrew as the Ketubah.

Where to begin? I suppose with an admission: that for a long time – a pitifully long time – I believed everything my husband ever told me. After all, he’s brilliant, and as far as I knew, was all-knowing. That is, until a wedding – I don’t remember whose – over 20 years ago, when our oldest children were still teenagers. The wedding was at a hilltop hotel in LA, and I remember it was a beautiful, balmy summer night. The ceremony (chupah) was outdoors, as they usually are, and it was lovely – until, that is, the utter disillusionment came crashing down on me.

But my story actually starts way before that, back in the summer of 1970 when I was a starry-eyed newlywed. I was entering my sophomore year of college and wanted to add my new married name to my records. I wanted my diploma issued to my full name, including my maiden and married last names.

So I went to the Registrar of Brooklyn College, where I had transferred from the University of Michigan when I became engaged. The Registrar said that I needed proof of marriage. I produced my marriage license. That wasn’t enough, she kindly explained. That only proved intent to marry, gave me “license” to marry, but apparently wasn’t proof that I actually had done so.

“Well,” I said, “the only other document I have is my Jewish marriage contract, my Ketubah.”

“Oh, that will be fine,” she said.

“But it’s in Aramaic!” I countered.

“No problem,” she informed me. “Just have it translated and notarized and all will be well.”

Little did I know.

So I told all this to my husband, starry-eyed innocent that I was, and he gallantly assured me that he could translate it. I reminded him that it was in Aramaic and he reminded me how many years he had spent in Yeshiva studying Talmud (Gmora) in that very same Aramaic. It would be a piece of cake, he told me. And furthermore, he had a friend who was a notary republic.

Oh, dear Reader, I positively swooned at such resourcefulness, and in less than a week I had the notarized translation in hand. I glanced at it as I trotted back to the Registrar. I noted that besides our names, the dates, etc., it was basically formulaic, and I took everything it said at face value. After all, it was an ancient document that went as far back as the Aramaic-as-vernacular days, didn’t it?

So among other things, it said that in the event of a divorce, my husband promised to give me 36 camels, 12 goat , 14 cows and 48 chickens. Oh, how interesting, I thought. I never knew all that was in there. I wondered if he would also give me a farm to keep it all, and I happily placed the document before the Registrar. She solemnly read it, congratulated me on my marriage, stamped all her name-amendment papers “Approved,” and voila! All my college records now reflected my married name.

Fast-forward now back to that hilltop wedding in LA. We had attended plenty of weddings in the intervening years, and the Ketubah is read at every chupah. It is read in Aramaic, usually very rapidly, and naturally I don’t understand a word. Occasionally, I can catch the Hebrew names of the bride and groom, and the words,”Los Angeles, California” always pop out, but that’s about it. Rarely is it it translated, and if it was, I had never heard it. Perhaps the microphone was off at the time. Anyway, everything changed on that fateful, balmy night . For the rabbi read the Ketubah in Aramaic as usual, but then he translated it, in perfectly audible English. I listened intently. I wanted to see if this particular bride got the same number of camels, cows and chickens, et al, or did the number vary?

And then I had the strangest sensation in my body. A frisson of foreboding. There was not a single mention of camels or any livestock whatsoever. How could this be?

I should explain that the men and women sit separately at most of the chupahs we attend, so I had to wait for the ceremony to end before seeking out my husband. I found him standing with a group of men, most of whom I knew. After greetings and pleasantries, I turned to my husband and commented that the Ketubah seemed strange to me. Why was there no mention of cows and chickens ? He looked at me oddly. I reminded him what our Ketubah stipulated about camels, cows and the rest. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind.

The other men in the little circle also had odd looks on their faces. I realized they were valiantly trying to contain their mirth, their utter glee. I should explain that not only did I know all of these guys, but I had probably taught half of them high school English. So while they knew I didn’t know a smidge of Aramaic, they knew I had a perfectly fine grasp of the English language. So they were not amused at my expense, but at my husband’s.

Slowly the group began to fade away. The last one looked at my beleaguered spouse, shook his head and mumbled something to the effect of, “Boy, are you in for it now.”

I was still all innocence though. “So why did I get all those cows and chickens and camels and she doesn’t?” I asked my husband when we were alone. “And don’t forget the goats.”

“What on earth are you talking about???” he exclaimed. He really had no clue.

I helpfully prodded his memory. The college Registrar… The notarized translation of the Ketubah. Surely he remembered.

Oh, now he did. And he started to laugh. And laugh. “That was just a joke,” he said. “Surely you knew that. I figured no one ever reads those things. What would you do with camels and goats?”

What, indeed? I was not amused. I was devastated, my starry-eyed innocence ripped away. I couldn’t sleep that night. Not only had he deceived me, but he had had a false translation notarized! I am very law-abiding. As far as I knew, so was he, so what was I to make of all this? And the Registrar hadn’t even batted an eye. I couldn’t have been the first person to submit a Ketubah for a name change. Did she assume we were all promised camels and chickens?

It took me days to get over my utter shock. I tossed and turned at night.

I always knew my husband had a wicked sense of humor, but this? Surely this was beyond the pale!

Or was it? About four days later I had an epiphany. That translation may all have been a fabrication, but I had it in writing. Somewhere in the bowels of some pre-computer age City University of New York warehouse sits the notarized translation of my Ketubah, guaranteeing me 36 camels, 12 goats, 14 cows and 48 chickens.

Realizing this, I slept soundly again.

Realizing this, my husband has ever after made a special effort to mind his P’ s and Q’s . He’s not taking any chances. He knows we can’t divorce. Never mind community property. After all, chickens may be cheap, but have you checked the price of camels lately?

The post About the Camels and the Chickens or: Reflections on a Marriage Contract appeared first on Xianna Michaels.

Back to Teaching

The Alchemy of Illuminated Poetry® process began as a daily meditative practice that I developed for myself. Every morning right after I would pray and recite Psalms, I would go into my study. I would light a candle, turn on soft music, pick up my pen and go into a meditative state.

I would set my intention for what I wanted to work on: did I have a question, a dilemma, some unexplained physical ailment, some emotional difficulty I wanted to understand? Or did I simply want to wait for what might come to me as my wisdom for the day? And then I would pick up my pen and begin to draw a mandala and write an accompanying poem.  I was often amazed at the insights and answers that would come to me. I would find myself writing words that my conscious brain would not have thought of. These poems were coming from some deeper part of myself, and the awareness I gained  often led to healing.

It was my dear friend and calligraphy teacher, De Ann Singh of Designing Letters, who first suggested that I teach this process. It had not occurred to me that I could, or that others would want to do this too. But with her encouragement I set about systematizing what I had been doing for years so I could share it. I began teaching the process in workshops, where  my students have experienced amazing AHA moments , healing and profound insights. I am currently working on the book, The Alchemy of Illuminated Poetry®, in order to bring it to a wider audience.

That said, I will be teaching a six- week class in The Alchemy of Illuminated Poetry®, beginning in July at Designing Letters in Mar Vista, LA.

My class is open to all adults – no background in poetry or art is necessary. It will consist of a series of six workshops to be held on Thursday evenings from 6:30-9:00pm. The schedule is as follows: July 2nd, July 9th, July23rd, July30th, August 6th, and August 13th, with the possibility of August 20 th in the event of a cancellation. The cost for all six workshops is $225.

Space is limited! To sign up, email deannsingh@me.com. For questions, contact me at Xianna@XiannaMichaels.com.

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Get Caught Reading Month 2015

May is Get Caught Reading Month 2015, so I thought I’d share a bit of my current reading list. I just finished a best- selling book called: the life-changing magic of tidying up – The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing, by Marie Kondo (translated from the Japanese.)

Self-improvement books, though often edifying, are sometimes dense to get through. So it’s a special pleasure to find a book like this. It’s a delightful, breezy read, but at the same time has a lot of wisdom and great ideas. I’m pretty organized and pared down, but the book made me want to grab a roll of black garbage bags and start going through the house! The book has sections with titles like: “Tidy a little a day and you’ll be tidying forever”, “Sort by category, not by location”, ” Arranging clothes: the secret to energizing you closet” and “Don’t underestimate the ‘noise’ of written information”. It’s a little book that’s a great read!

Next on my list is: The Blue Zones Solution – Eating and Living Like the World’s Healthiest People, by Dan Buettner. This is a follow up to Buettner’s best-selling 2009 book, The Blue Zones. In that first book the author and his team identified five places in the world where a disproportionate number of people lived active, healthy lives into their 90’s and even over 100 years old. This included places like Ikaria, Greece and a region of Sardinia, Italy. All well and good, you might think. If you spent your life chasing mountain goats in Sardinia, you might well still be doing it in your 90’s. But what about if a good portion of your time is spent sitting on the 405 Freeway? That’s where, to me, things got really interesting – because one of his Blue Zones is Loma Linda, California. Yes, that Loma Linda, one of the smog capitals of Southern California!

So now in this new book the author and his team have harnessed the secrets of what he calls “longevity hot spots” around the world to create a viable plan for Americans to live longer, healthier lives. I’ve always been into nutrition and health and welcome new insights, so I’m really looking forward to reading this book!

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Memorial Day Musings

Spring is here and the stores are already full of beach towels, pool toys and picnic baskets. The days are long, the SoCal nights are balmy, and thoughts turn to Memorial Day and backyard barbecues. This year, as it happens, Memorial Day falls on the second day of the Jewish holiday of Shavous, so the barbecue will have to wait. But I can’t help thinking about Memorial Day–in a rather unusual context.

There’s a song that keeps running through my head. It’s on my 1940’s playlist, an original radio broadcast recording from World War II by Gene Autry. It’s called “Praise The Lord and Pass the Ammunition.” The title by itself has at times been used satirically, even derisively in recent years. That’s a shame, really, because if you listen to all the words, you realize the song has a very strong, uplifting message.

The title is actually just the first part of a sentence, the second part of which says: “and we’ll all stay free.” It turns out that this was uttered by a chaplain on a US naval ship taking fire during the attack on Pearl Harbor. A legend grew surrounding that line, ” Praise The Lord and pass the ammunition, and we’ll all stay free!” And from that legend came the famous song, written by Frank Loesser.

The lyrics tell the story of the ” sky pilot” ( chaplain) , who steps up when the gunner is hit, then the gunner’s mate:

      Up jumped the sky pilot, gave the boys a look

      And manned the gun himself as he laid aside The Book,

Shouting:

      Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!

      Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition!

      Praise The Lord and pass the ammunition and we’ll all stay free!

The song came out in 1942, but it was not till the 1950’s that the truth of what actually happened came to light. The ship was the USS New Orleans and the “sky pilot” was Chaplain Howell Forgy, a Lieutenant stationed on the ship on that December morning in 1941. As he later recalled, the ship was docked when the attack by the Japanese began and all the electrical power wasn’t on. So the men had to form lines in a bucket brigade to lift the ammunition up . He formed part of the line and tried to cheer the men on. When he saw they were getting tired he uttered his famous phrase, ” Praise The Lord and pass the ammunition.” He modestly claimed in later years that that was all there was to it.

Maybe so, and it’s an inspiring story. But the song itself, apocryphal though it might be, is rousing. It goes on to quote the sky pilot further:

      Praise the Lord and swing into position!

      Can’t afford to sit around a- wishin’

      Praise The Lord, we’re all between perdition

      And the deep blue sea!

And later:

      Praise The Lord, we’re on a mighty mission!

      All aboard, we’re not a- goin’ fishin’,

      Praise The Lord and pass the ammunition

      And we’ll all stay free!

There are many versions besides the Gene Autry one. Several add a line:

      Praise The Lord and swing into position!

      Can’t afford to be a politician!

Hmmm.

Every rendition, however, has a catchy, melodious tune and escalates to the satisfying crescendo at the end : ” And we’ll all stay free!”

Sometimes, even in legend , there is great truth. As Memorial Day approaches, the song is a reminder to me of the courageous men and women who have fought- and those who continue to fight- so we can all stay free. So we can have a backyard barbecue. Or not. So we can worship for a religious holiday. Or not. Or so we can pack a picnic and brave the freeway to the beach.

And it is a further reminder that though we must always have faith, sometimes we need ammunition, too. That seems as relevant today as it was way back then.

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Disneyland Adventures with Our Grandchildren

Our travelogue is now fully caught up. As I said previously, August 2014 found us, by popular demand, heading back to the Magic Kingdom with our grandchildren. We stayed once again at the beautiful Grand Californian Hotel. It overlooks Downtown Disney and has its own entrance to Disney California Adventure (DCA).

The night before we left, seven-year-old N delighted me with the very earnest question: “Nana, where are we going next year?” What a sweetheart, I thought, and what a blessing to be able to do this trip.

It took us only forty-five minutes on a Sunday morning to drive to Anaheim. We were nine people again and took two cars. Michael drove one and – wait for it – A drove the other. She got her license in January and has become a very careful, skilled driver. And after all those trips when we spent so much time in the car, it was a pleasure to pull up at the hotel entrance, hand over the cars, and not see them again for four days. We got 4-day Park-Hoppers, which enabled us to walk in and out of DCA and Disneyland Park at will. The Park-Hoppers, by the way become less expensive with each day you add-on, until they become positively reasonable.

The hotel welcomes you with a crackling fire in a massive lobby fireplace. There’s also a children’s viewing area with mini-chairs and a screen-playing vintage Mickey cartoons. The kids can sit there while the adults check-in. They were able to accommodate our request for adjoining bunkbed rooms. So we fit comfortably with four of us in one room and five in another. The only challenge was the bathroom situation. Truth to tell, I think I’m beyond the age where I can comfortably share a bathroom with seven-year-olds.

Each room had a half-size refrigerator, most welcome since we keep kosher and bring a lot of food. Disneyland does have a surprising amount of kosher food offerings, though. More about that later. Each room also had a small balcony. This was a great place for the kids to eat their morning cereal and offered some quiet for the occasional phone call. It also gave Z a perch from which to read when he woke up before all the other kids.

I’ve already written about our Lost Child System. I gave each of the three younger kids a badge pinned to their clothes, which had our phone numbers. Thank goodness we never needed to test the system. But those badges gave everyone – especially the youngest, who wouldn’t venture out without it – peace of mind.

The four older kids had cell phones. This was essential since with such an age spread, they would want to go off on their own for some of the more daredevil rides. It seems that everyone in Disneyland is walking around talking into cell phones, trying to keep track of the rest of their party. My big fear was that someone’s phone would run out of charge.

Note to the Disney people: It’s time to install multiple charging stations, just like the airports have.

We started the first day with a perennial favorite, “It’s a Small World”. Then we split up for a time and met for lunch. Which leads me to a word about the kosher food situation.

First, the kiosks and food stands have quite a bit of wrapped kosher products, from candy to frozen confections. There’s also a great deal of fresh fruit available – a fairly new innovation. Also new – at least since the last time I was there – is that the Plaza Inn on Main Street and a number of fast food places such as Tomorrowland Terrace and Ariel’s Grotto offer a limited kosher menu. It’s frozen food from a caterer in Florida. For lunch the first day we had cheese omelets at the Plaza Inn. Everyone was delighted to be able to sit down at a restaurant in Disneyland. This in itself is a great novelty for us. The kids’ comments ranged from “at least it’s edible” to “not bad” to “this is cool!”

One day we had a full kosher dinner at the Blue Bayou Restaurant. This is the intriguing-looking candlelit restaurant inside the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride. By the way, take the Disney people seriously when they say you need advance reservations at their “fine dining” establishments. They begin booking 60 days in advance. I called 52 days before our trip, and they had only one hour in the entire time we would be there when they could accommodate our party! And this had nothing to do with the kosher food.

The menu again is limited but we did have a three-course meal and the kids said the food was “reasonable.” We sat at a prime table at the water’s edge. It really was a lovely experience. The food was served graciously and the younger children were given placemats to color and keep them busy. A word to the wise, though, if you are getting kosher food. It comes double-wrapped in plastic and piping hot and is very difficult to open with table utensils. Next time I would bring tiny scissors or a pocket knife. Otherwise a win-win. Several of the kids said that the dinner was their favorite part of the trip. At Disneyland that’s really saying something!

So back to our first day. After a few hours in Disneyland Park we went back to the hotel. Michael took the kids swimming while A and I unpacked and got us settled in. Then we fed and showered everyone. This year, no one fought over the bunkbeds. In fact, no one fought over anything; it really must be the Magic Kingdom.

Before we headed back out for night activity, A and I handed out the surprise. The two of us had gone down to Anaheim on a reconnaissance mission two weeks before. We bought everyone – from A on down to E – identical black and red Mickey sweatshirts. They have Mickey ears for a hood and a tail in the back. So everyone donned their sweatshirts and we set off for Disney California Adventure. The matching sweatshirts made it easier to keep track of everyone and the seven Mickeys walking in a row were a sight to behold In fact, a balloon lady in DCA was so enchanted that she asked if we had a camera. She promptly handed Michael all her balloons and started snapping away. The kids thought this was hilarious.

California Adventure has had a makeover in recent years and it shows. It’s just beautiful to walk around there. There’s music everywhere, including street performers in vintage dress. I especially liked the retro-clad ensemble tooling around in a 1930’s era roadster singing songs I happen to love from the 30’s and 40’s. Cars Land immediately immerses you in Route 66 California nostalgia. The kids loved the vintage car-racing ride there. A Bug’s Life is imaginatively done with adorable rides and fountains that pop out of the ground to cool the kids off in the heat of the day.

After a few hours by consensus we headed off to Downtown Disney. This huge pedestrian mall with numerous shops and eateries is like one big souvenir shop. The kids headed to their favorite, World of Disney, and made careful inroads into their Souvenir Budgets. One highlight: Z, usually our weaponry aficionado, announced that he would not buy anything for himself until he found a gift for his mother. After a long search he chose a delicate bracelet with a charm in her October birthstone. A moment to clutch at my heart… Not to worry, though. Two days later he was back to negotiating for a rifle in Frontierland.

We started the next day with the Character Breakfast at the Plaza Inn. Minnie Mouse, Winnie the Pooh, Tigger and Captain Hook all came to our table and posed for photos with the kids. The younger ones were thrilled. I myself was delighted to see the very same Fairy Godmother from Cinderella whom I remember from years ago. She’s a beautiful woman with a British accent and we had a lovely chat. The characters with their own faces are allowed to talk, by the way. The fully covered ones do not speak.

Our youngest, E, made it known very early on that she would only go on the tamest of rides, of the “It’s a Small World,” “Winnie the Pooh” variety. That’s about my speed as well, so we were buddies while A took the older kids on things like the “Matterhorn”. Michael went back and forth, depending on how much his stomach could take. Seven-year-old AS, by the way, loves wild rides and especially loves watching Zaidy Michael’s face when he doesn’t.

You might remember from one of our earlier Disney trips that J was traumatized by the “Tiki Room” as a child. Now at thirteen he was perfectly happy to humor us and go, although he still maintains that it’s an affront to the sensibilities of children. Not so four-year-old E. She was chosen to stand up in front of the entire audience and wake up José, the exotic bird who starts the show. She did so with great exuberance and enjoyed the song-filled show immensely.

Despite all our careful planning on these trips, there’s always room for serendipity, We had a very special, unexpected experience one night. A took most of the kids to Tomorrowland and Michael and I took E to the Royal Hall to greet the princesses. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, et al, receive visitors there and the line isn’t usually too long. This is as opposed to the other princess viewing that we judiciously didn’t mention to E. Apparently Anna and Elsa from Frozen have their own reception hall. The line there is known to be at least two hours long. And a glimpse of those two sisters apparently induces a swooning, shrieking adulation on the part of little girls. To this Baby Boomer such a scene is all-too reminiscent of Beatlemania. And besides – two hours? We figured E. would be just as happy to see the other princesses.

The Royal Hall is open till 7pm. We got there about 6:45. People were still in line, but unknown to us, they closed the line early. E was crestfallen. “Just one more little girl?” I pleaded, but they turned us away. One of the employees did suggest we try to catch The Main Street Parade. The princesses (minus Anna and Elsa) would be appearing.

We were nearby but the parade was about to start. If you’ve ever done this routine, you know that people stake out their viewing spaces at least an hour before. Nonetheless, we ran. We were determined that E would see the princesses. We did find a spot but were at least six rows back from the parade route. I could barely see, let alone E. We promised her we would pick her up for the princesses and as much of the rest as we could. She’s little, but not that little, so Michael and I decided we would switch off.

And then it happened. A moment of pure magic in the Magic Kingdom. A woman two rows ahead had overheard us. She turned around and said, “You know, my girls are sitting down on the curb in the front row. Your little girl can squeeze in with them. They’ll watch out for her and you can keep an eye on her.” We asked E if she wanted to go. She didn’t even hesitate. One of this woman’s daughters came to get her and E had a front row seat. She stood and cheered and waved to the princesses and was sure they were waving back just at her. Her face was glowing. We know because we never took our eyes off her. That was for safety, of course, but also because for Michael and me that delighted face was the best part of the parade.

And it surely is a testament to the vision of Walt Disney and continuing genius of the Disney Company that they can induce such adoration on the part of millions of children world-wide.

Because the parade draws so many people, there’s little wait during that time for some of the very popular rides. So the other kids were thrilled to have checked quite a few of their must-do rides off their list during that time. And that night, as at the end of each day, the kids fell happily, exhaustedly into bed. No one asked for a bedtime story or five glasses of water. All they asked was where we were going for our first ride in the morning. And they were asleep before we could answer.

Everyone had a different favorite on this Disney trip. AS loved “Splash Mountain.” E loved the “Aladdin” Show and of course, the parade. N’s favorite was the “California Screamin’ Roller Coaster” in DCA, which goes around 360º. S and J loved dinner at the Blue Bayou restaurant. But all agreed that the greatest spectacle is the relatively new “World of Color” in DCA. This is a multi-million dollar light and water extravaganza. It not only includes huge fountains dancing to so many favorite Disney songs but the characters themselves appearing in the water. Ariel with her reams of red hair floating through her underwater kingdom was a great favorite. But the biggest applause came at the most bittersweet moment – when the late Robin Williams channeled the Genie from “Aladdin.” The tragedy of his passing was still fresh, and everyone was aware.

Unlike the parade in Disneyland Park, you need advance tickets through FastPass for “World of Color.” This gives you a designated viewing area, but you still have to arrive close to an hour before, stake out your space, and hope no one has to go to the bathroom. Still, I must admit, it really was worth it.

Speaking of bathrooms, theme parks seem to have a strange impact on children’s bladders. Even when they weren’t drinking all that much, it seemed like every fifteen minutes, several had to go. Urgently. Even if they’d just gone ten minutes before. I now know the location of every restroom in Disneyland Park and DCA. Note to self: Next time in addition to carrying sun lotion in my purse, take hand lotion. I washed my hands raw in those four days.

None of the above, however, dimmed anyone’s enthusiasm, and the time went by all too quickly. On our last night the kids wanted to have a go at the new ESPN Zone in Downtown Disney. This is an arcade/sports center that seems to appeal to boys and girls, young and old alike. Why not? I thought. Little did I know.

I feel it incumbent upon me to issue two warnings. One is that the place has glaring, flashing lights, loud music and even louder pings and dings. For those susceptible, it’s a migraine waiting to happen. I lasted under three minutes, just enough time to hand over my credit card so the kids would get their playing time. Then I raced out and left Michael, A and J to supervise. Second warning: the place is a money pit. The tables in Las Vegas don’t hold a candle to this ESPN Zone when it comes to separating people from their money.

I’d rather buy pirate swords and princess paraphernalia any day. We did just that as we finished up our last hours of the final day shopping at Downtown Disney, where everyone maxed out their Souvenir Budgets. AS added two character charms to the bracelet she had bought the first day. E finished up with a princess coloring book and stickers as well as a mini-princess doll. S scored a beautiful sterling silver necklace on sale. The boys went for laser toys, and on it went. A bought me a Mickey–Minnie key ring that says “Nana” with the proviso that I actually use it.

So, naturally, I’m sporting my new key ring. And my other souvenir? The little voices asking, not two days later: “Where are we going next year?”

G-d willing, we’ll see.

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Our Great San Diego Vacation with 7 Grandchildren

In 2013, we headed south with our grandchildren. E, then 3 1/2 , came with us for the first time. So now we were nine in all. Too many for one car and, alas, too many for any hotel I contacted in the San Diego area. So A decided it was time we rented a house. A found us one with a few clicks online. She’s truly a wonder.

It was a beautiful house in the heart of Mission Bay. It was walking distance to the beach. Sort of. It had no street parking but room for our two cars in the garage. Sort of. It had enough beds. Sort of. It had no maid service but everyone pitched in. Sort of. It was a great adventure. Sort of.

Let’s see. It started out well enough. We stopped on the way to see my brother and sister-in-law in Huntington Beach. They live in a townhouse in a gated community that is the definition of charming. It has an idyllic, small town feel, almost like a movie set. There are winding streets with houses of all sizes and styles. It’s kind of like Andy Griffith’s Mayberry meets Beverly Hills 90210. There’s a children’s playground, a duck pond, a waterfall and a stream the kids could ford by jumping on boulders. They had a grand time with their great aunt and uncle and we took lots of pictures with them in and around the water.

We resumed our journey and eventually settled into our temporary new home. The kids fought over the bunkbeds and unpacked. Sort of. Did you know the floor makes for excellent drawer space when emptying a duffle bag? We fed everyone and headed for Seaport Village. This is a very cute, very touristy seaside collection of shops and eateries. It’s beautifully lit up at night and there, are often street performers and a very festive atmosphere. It was a perfect place for a first night’s souvenir hunting.

The trouble started later that night. There was some rough-housing (shocker, I know.) We thought J had broken his toe. It turned out to be dislocated, not broken, but he couldn’t walk. At all. ‘Til the very last day of the trip. Getting to the beach was definitely a challenge. And we spent two days pushing him in a wheelchair at Sea World. (Or, as she reminds me, S, his 10-year-old sister, spent two days pushing him.) J was very good-natured about it, though. Still, all that attention… How could the younger ones be outdone?

Of course they couldn’t. So let’s see. Our adorable six-year-old AS, usually so heads up and together, had an allergic reaction to a bug bite. This derailed her for a day. Wow, can she shriek when need be! N stepped on a thorn and claimed he also couldn’t walk. Z couldn’t sleep – something about the bed or the lights or it was too hot or too cold – and all he wanted to do was call his mother.

And little E developed pink eye and screamed the entire first night. So no one slept. She informed everyone that she would be okay the next night if she could sleep with Nana. So told Zaidy (Grandpa) Michael he could sleep on the couch. The couch was small. Michael is not. Need I say more?

I spent a good part of the trip scraping mac and cheese off the carpet. A spent a good part of the trip keeping sand out of the house. The rental company seemed to have an awful lot of rules. Especially about sand. In a beach house.

Darling S is a very astute observer. She is also a great peacekeeper and ever-cheerful presence. She spent a good part of the trip plaintively inquiring whether this would be our last TRIP.

“No,” I assured her. “Look how much fun we’re having!”

We did manage lots of beach time, including seaside bike rentals. We took in LaJolla and more souvenir shopping. And we found a kosher restaurant where we had dinner with my niece and nephew-in-law, visiting from New York.

I wouldn’t call this trip our best. It certainly wasn’t the easiest. Michael and I basically collapsed for days afterward. But the kids talked about that trip and its various mishaps with relish for weeks after. And as always, as soon as their family winter break trips were over, they began asking where we were going next summer on THE TRIP.

A consensus quickly arose. For Summer 2014 we would stay close to home. By popular demand we would go back to… Disneyland. To the Grand Californian Hotel. They promised us bunkbeds; they would try their best on the connecting rooms.

Little E, by now four, actually debated whether she would come with us. She went through a long list of every wicked witch, sorcerer and stepmother she could think of. Only when I assured her that they absolutely, positively DO NOT live in Disneyland did she agree to come.

So we would be nine people again. Stay tuned for a report from the Magic Kingdom.

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More Adventuring with our Grandchildren

In 2012 we added A, now four, to our troop, and decided a shorter journey was in in order. Now we were eight. It would be the last year we could all fit into that trusty SUV. We went to Las Vegas and stayed at a condo-resort off The Strip. They gave us two attached mirror-image units, where we could actually set up meat and dairy kitchens! And it’s really amazing how much there is to do with grandchildren in Vegas, ever mindful of keeping them away from…all the things you want to keep them away from.

They’ve all been to New York, so they loved the New York New York hotel, with its cobblestone streets, fire escapes and other amazing replicas of New York City. The older kids went wild for the roller coaster and everyone had a great time in the huge arcade area. We had to drag them away.

We went to the extraordinary Bodies Exhibition at the Luxor Hotel. Here, through an innovative process, real human bodies are preserved and presented in a respectful, informative manner. You can see organs, skeletons, whole and partial bodies. One of the highlights is a display of a healthy lung alongside one blackened by smoking. You can follow the path of the circulatory system, and see layers of muscle, skin and tissue. It’s truly amazing and we were all fascinated.

On a more commercial note, the Coca Cola store, with every conceivable (and inconceivable) Coke product was a big hit. For some reason the kids loved having their picture taken next to a giant Coke bottle. The M&M store had a similar incomprehensible appeal.

The Venetian Hotel was a special favorite. You can, thankfully, bypass the casino level entirely and head straight for the Grand Canal Shoppes. You don’t have to have been to Venice, Italy (which none of us has) to enjoy the ingenuity here. The gorgeous, enormous mall features a long indoor Grand Canal. We piled into two gondolas and enjoyed a scenic fifteen-minute ride, complete with singing gondoliers. Besides the endless shops, there ware costumed opera singers and dancers performing in the streets.

And then there are the statues – white stone statues of people in Renaissance dress on low pedestals in San Marcos Square and near the shops. At least they look like statues. They are absolutely still. They do not even blink. They do not smile at the kids’ antics. No one dares touch them. The kids hotly debated whether actual people might be under all that plaster. The only clue is the discreet little bucket into which people in the know place dollar bills. It’s quite a marvel to observe such absolute stillness.

At one point in the Venetian we split up. Michael took the boys to Houdini’s Magic Shop and I took the girls to The Shemoni Sterling Silver Jewelry Shop, where pretty baubles can be had for amazing prices. After the girls made inroads in their Souvenir Budgets, we joined the guys at the magic shop. The staff members there perform magic tricks. It’s like being at a close-up magic show. Then if you decide to buy any of the tricks (at prices that match silver bracelets any day, I might add), you get invited into a hidden back room. Here they reveal to you the secret of the magic trick. All very mysterious and a great thrill for the kids.

Another outing they enjoyed was to the Excalibur Hotel. This is a pint-sized souvenir hunter’s dream. Its shops feature all kinds of vital necessities for princesses and knights, as well as its share of magic. The food court has a Krispy Kreme doughnut shop, and since it’s kosher this was a great find.

And now a word about night activity. In our extensive planning A and I leave little to chance. With a group this size we think of THE TRIP as a mini summer camp, and advance planning is vital. Otherwise, precious hours can be wasted with indecision and everyone voicing an opinion. We are, however, flexible.

Sometimes night activity is a late swim in a hotel pool. Sometimes it’s dinner in a kosher restaurant. Las Vegas has several, and we went out to dinner two of our nights there. Disneyland – if we happen to be there – is one big night activity in and of itself. Or sometimes it’s a stroll through a quaint little shopping district, like Seaport Village in San Diego.

But my all-time favorite night activity popped up serendipitously on our Las Vegas trip. It had been a strenuous day. We were in heavy traffic leaving The Strip. The kids were cranky, loud and way too wired. My husband was losing his mind. We needed a way to wind everyone down. A was texting me from the back seat: “Nana, we need to think of something! Quick!”

I wracked my brain. Then I saw it. A sign. Was it real? Did the brick and mortar store still exist, or was the sign the only remnant of what was now an empty shell? I had seen such things before. I whispered to my husband to pull into the parking lot. To pull up close to the store. And lo, praise the L-rd. The door opened. People were coming and going! The store was still in business!

It was a Barnes and Noble Bookseller.

We parked and I laid down the ground rules. We would be here for one hour. Everyone was entitled to buy one “big book” (translation: expensive) or two “little ones” (i.e., inexpensive paperbacks.) No, this didn’t count toward the Souvenir Budget. This was a special extra gift. The kids were thrilled and dashed off to the children’s section. A grinned at me. “Good one, Nana,” she said and headed after them.

Michael spied the attached Starbucks. “Do you mind if I –“

“No, “ I said. “Go ahead. We’ve got it covered.” He bought a book and disappeared into the coffee shop. I didn’t see him for the next hour.

I quickly followed A and we had a great time. The kids had immediately assumed their quiet “bookstore voices” and were eagerly sifting through the possibilities. They were calm and excited at the same time. We read and looked at pictures. They weighed their options carefully. A and I helped them pick theirs and then made our own selections.

We met up with Michael an hour later at the front door. “Thank you,” he whispered, “that was just what I needed.”

As they say, a win-win. Back at the hotel, the kids calmly read their books and fell asleep clutching them.

The Las Vegas trip went by all too quickly. S claims it as her favorite. Michael wants us to go back – there was so much “kids’ stuff” we never even got to do.

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More Adventuring up the Coast with our Grandchildren

For our 2010 adventures with our grandchildren we headed north to Carmel and Monterey. We had by this time commandeered our daughter’s eight-seat SUV. We were six people again and quite comfortable. We drove north, making only on stop – at a spacious Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in Pismo Beach. Just about every Coffee Bean up and down the California coast is kosher, so this made a great lunch stop. They have big couches and even bigger smiles for children.

With the stop it took us six hours to get to Carmel. We pulled up in front of our rustic cottage in the woods and piled out of the SUV. That is when six-year-old Z uttered the best line of the entire trip. I should explain his other grandparents live back East and he’s been going to visit them since he was a baby. So he got out, looked around at the rather ramshackle cluster of lodgings, and said, “I don’t get it. If we’ve been travelling for six hours, why aren’t we in New Jersey?”

Great question, right?

It was too cold for the beach, but the scenery everywhere was beautiful. We took long walks and meandered through the shops, allowing the kids to get a good start on their souvenir hunting.

We went to the Winchester Mansion, built by the heiress to the Winchester Rifle fortune. The story goes that she thought the house was haunted. So she built endless corridors, doors and staircases to nowhere to fool the ghosts and keep them away from her. She kept adding on and on for her entire life. I don’t know about the ghosts, but the layout is so confusing for visitors that no one is allowed to wander off without a guide. Even the staff isn’t sure they can find you if you get lost!

Then there’s the Mystery Spot, an apparent gravitational anomaly outside of Santa Cruz. It is very, very odd. Balls seem to roll up instead of down. You stand straight and look in a mirror and realize you are standing at an angle. You can get very dizzy for seemingly no reason. Your sense of perspective and balance are completely off. You leave very baffled. Surely it can’t just be one big hoax, but what exactly is it?

We found a great kosher restaurant in Mountain View, right on restaurant row. The food at The Kitchen Table was excellent and they welcomed children. It was full of tech people. My husband eavesdropped shamelessly on a conversation between two backpack-toting Google guys. He said it was as if they were speaking a foreign language, some programming language of numbers that no one else could understand.

What I remember the most about Mountain View was the energy. The country was in the middle of the Recession. There was a general malaise, but the Mountain View – Palo Alto area was pulsing with vibrancy. I remember thinking that this, the epicenter of the tech revolution, was currently the heartbeat of the world. There was an infectious optimism and exuberance that I loved.

We also went to Monterey. We visited the Aquarium and spent more than enough time in the shops at Fisherman’s Wharf, where the Souvenir System once again proved a big hit.

In fact, we liked the northern part of the state so much that we headed back the next year, this time to San Francisco. It was 2011 and we added our four-year-old grandson N to the group, so now we were seven in all. We took in as many of the tourist spots as we could. It’s always such a treat to see someplace through new eyes, especially children’s. We went to Chinatown, Fisherman’s Wharf, and Union Square, where there was, of course, plenty of opportunity for shopping. We had quite an adventure maneuvering my daughter’s eight-seat SUV down Lombard Street, the crookedest street in the world. We also went to the Exploratorium, a fabulous, interactive children’s science museum.

But by far the biggest hit was the Jelly Belly Factory in nearby Fairfield, California. It’s fun to take the tour and watch them making jelly beans. They give out samples along the way and the special treat for us was that most of it is kosher. And then there’s the gift shop. Oh, my. Every conceivable flavor of jellybean, every jellybean-themed toy, hat and stuffed animal is available. They give out bags and sell the jellybeans by weight. They encourage the kids to fill their own bags. Of course they do.

This was the place we learned that our Lost Child System worked. Thank G-d it was in a most innocuous way. We have always told the kids that if they get lost, or just lose sight of us, they should immediately go to someone in uniform. The older kids knew our cell phone numbers by heart (and by now they have their own phones.) For the younger ones we’ve always tucked a card into their pockets or pinned one to their shirts. It reads: If I’m lost, please call my Grandpa or my Nana, and then our cell numbers.

So here we were in the gift shop, trying to keep track of our brood. All of a sudden I heard a child crying, a few feet away from me. It was a familiar sound, and I moved toward it. I hadn’t gone a foot through the crowd when a voice boomed out of the loudspeaker asking if N’s grandparents would come to the cash desk.

I was there in under a minute. N had simply turned the wrong way and lost sight of us. So he did exactly what he was supposed to do. Went to someone in uniform. Heads-up little guy!

The next year we headed east to Las Vegas. Vegas for kids? Oh yes, you’d be surprised.

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What Baby Sarah Knows – A Poem

I have been known to carry a thermos of my green drink just about everywhere. I wrote this poem after yet another grandchild asked to taste it and then ran to spit it out.

The drink is called Bieler’s Soup, after Dr. Henry Bieler, who developed it. It consists of steamed and blended zucchini, green beans and parsley. Nothing else. I love it and drink it every single day. A few friends share my affinity for this delicious, healthful drink. But everyone else does a Baby Sarah and wrinkles up their nose.

 

What Baby Sarah Knows

 

Even baby Sarah knows,

Eating jars of glop.

She wrinkles up her little nose

And makes my Mommy stop.

 

Even baby Sarah knows

That green stuff isn’t good.

She bangs the highchair with her toes

Until she’s understood.

 

She won’t eat green beans, spinach, peas;

She crinkles up her lips,

But eats her applesauce with ease

And lick her fingertips.

 

So Sarah shakes her little head

‘Cuz greenish goo is yucky,

And Mommy gives her pears instead –

Boy, aren’t babies lucky!

 

If I won’t eat that veggie stuff

I don’t get my dessert.

My Mommy makes me eat enough

To make my tummy hurt!

 

But Nana drinks this big green drink;

She says it’s good for you.

She gulps it down without a blink –

It smells like lizard stew!

 

“It’s blended veggies,” says my Nana.

“One day you’ll like it too.”

Oh, no! I hope I never wanna

Drink that grownup goo!

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