Tag: generations

Love and learning 

People from many cultures show love via food and, of course, Jews are no exception. And what a palate our culture has, since we have lived in so many places. Two children’s books from Collective Book Studio, one new and one from recent years, highlight the flavourful diversity of Jewish culture, while teaching other valuable lessons.

image - Tali and the Timeless Time book coverComing out this August, Tali and the Timeless Time by Mira Z. Amiras, with illustrations by Chantelle and Burgen Thorne, shares the love of a granddaughter for her grandmother, and vice versa. Every Friday, Tali helps her nona get ready for Shabbat. Nona gives hugs, tells stories, still tries to get Tali to nap, even though she’s older now. When Nona dozes off, Tali explores in the backyard, cleans up the small fountain there, feeds the goldfish. When Nona awakes, it’s time to cook.

“We bake!” says Tali. “Today, it’s bourekas, yummy for eating. Nona makes them with filo (which it turns out is cheating). She says her nona let her ’cause it doesn’t need kneading.”

The week before, the pair made stuffed grape leaves – yaprakas, dolma or dolmades. Nona’s favourite dish is huevos (eggs) cooked in tomatoes with feta and arroz (rice). 

While Tali’s grandmother might get Tali’s name wrong, or forget a word or two, she has these recipes ingrained in her. 

“I’m having big thoughts,” says Tali, “but Nona’s not listening – she’s singing ‘chakchouka,’ it’s sometimes called, not just huevos, in the Holy Land, Tunisia and the land of the pharaohs. In Mexico, it’s a lot like huevos rancheros….” But Nona loses focus, she starts dancing with “her zills and her fans.” Tali finishes making dinner, the pair eat together, then dance some more.

In another role reversal, Tali tucks Nona into bed for the night, not sure she should leave her alone. Luckily, Tali and her family live nearby.

It’s a lovely book, “timeless time” being a beautiful description of a day spent with a loved one, doing this and that, in no particular order, sharing stories, mixing up past with present, making memories that will adapt over time.

image - 1, 2, 3 Nosh with Me book coverFamily and food are also at the heart of 1, 2, 3 Nosh with Me, written by Micah and Joshua Siva, and illustrated by Sviatoslav Franko, which was published a couple of years ago. In it, the dog Buckwheat shows us the yummy food the family eats, starting with the “One golden challah, to celebrate Shabbat…” We work our way up to “Ten crispy latkes, served by candlelight.” In between, we have matzah balls, matzot, kugel, knishes, apples for a sweet new year, sufganiyot, bagels and hamantashen. (It’s not clear why the Hanukkah treats are separated, but that’s a quibble.)

Tali covers a few Sephardi staples and Buckwheat has the Ashkenazi favourites down. Between the two books, the breadth of world Jewry, as seen through just some of its traditional foods, is impressive. 

Running in the human race

I am still running in this race. For those of us who are older, it seems to take much of our strength to show up every morning and run the course. It seemed easier when we were younger, full of the energy of youth. We have forgotten what it was like when we were discovering who we were, who we were going to be. Surely, that was a struggle, even if it was a different one than we face today as older people.

There are mysterious things about this race. Who are the winners? What does winning mean? The rewards don’t necessarily go to those who arrive soonest at the finish line. Maybe it is more like a relay race, in a family sense. Lots to think about.

I have a grandson, more than one, in fact. All of them are fully engaged in finding their way in the foot race in which all of us living on this planet are engaged. As are my granddaughters. Seeing the challenges they face, the stories they tell me about what they are doing and what they are planning, bring memories of my own beginnings. I see how competitive the world they are inhabiting is. I see how some of them are so conscious that their every move, every decision they make, everything they do, right or wrong, is recorded, and will affect their future possibilities. These children, in their mid-teens and early 20s, are struggling with perspectives we did not awake to until we were 10 or 15 years older. How about that kind of pressure!

I think of the path I have followed, growing up in Winnipeg, moving away to make my fortune, seeking to put my own personal mark on the journey I was taking. I was so determined that I had to be the only architect of the life I was building. Was I foolish not to be a seeker of advice? I threw myself recklessly into that life, confident that, come what may, I could overcome any obstacle to my desires that might appear in my path.

I never worried about missteps. I never worried about making wrong decisions. My life was a tabula rasa, a blank slate to be shaped as I wished. Of course, my grandchildren probably think that whatever they are doing is right, too. Many of the decisions we make in the days of our beginnings have a dramatic impact on our future.

I am not complaining. I have had a glorious life. I may not have realized all the potentialities – I have not conquered like an Alexander, created language like a Shakespeare, envisaged shapes like a Moore, painted visions like a Picasso. But, like most of us, I have delivered some blessings for my fellow human beings, and I am content.

I have seen the mountains of America, Europe and Africa, and their valleys. The waters of Canada and Brazil have roared before my eyes, and in my ears. I have had a good share of the delightful places and times the world has to offer. And I had the chance to spend some of my life with the woman of my dreams.

On my travels, during the race I have run, I have learned how fortunate we are, and what real misery is. I know what the view from Dublin is like, and have witnessed the views from New York, Washington, London, Paris, Rome, Johannesburg, Cape Town, Hong Kong, Singapore, Sydney, Khartoum, Cairo, Vientiane, Bangkok, Dakar, Ougadougou, Buenos Aires and Rio de Janeiro. These were some of the places I lived in and visited.

Like many of us, I did not make the most of my potentialities as a consequence of my decisions. One day, I heard Neil Young say, in a television interview with Charlie Rose, that our pasts are like an overcoat. When we put the coat on, it tells the world who we are. Or the world chooses to see us as we appear wearing the overcoat of our past.

Sometimes, we wish we could shed our past and take a new direction. I’ll tell you a secret. We don’t need to do that. We can be new people any day we choose. The past we wear like an overcoat, that we have the choice of shedding, can inform the choices we want to make, but it doesn’t have to limit who we are today, and will be tomorrow.

I am not the economist that I was, the manager of people that I was, the public relations speaker and writer that I was, the researcher and marketing consultant that I was, the real estate broker, the financial advisor, the whatever I had to be. Now, in beautiful Vancouver, I write stories and poetry. I have played with clay until the faces jumped out at me. I meddle in the stock market. I try to talk to my kids often. I try to be present for my Bride. We try to make our home a friendly place.

Today, I try to be a better husband, a better friend, a better parent; some things, perhaps, that were lacking quality in my past. I am still running the race. It is sometimes a little tiring, and I have to exercise to build my stamina – but I hope to run it well, right to the end. 

Max Roytenberg is a Vancouver-based poet, writer and blogger. His book Hero in My Own Eyes: Tripping a Life Fantastic is available from Amazon and other online booksellers.