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I recently looked through my journals and emails, so I could present you, my readers, with advice and comments I have given to my nearest and dearest from Marnie the Meshuggah Mom. We start with Apartments, Running Interference and Food.APARTMENTS THE SON MOVES OUT:–ME: (TO MY SON) Nice. Very nice place you got. Yeah, I see the three steps up to the bedroom … and the three steps down to the living room. Oh and the five steps to the teeny terrace. And all those fancy steps for $800 a month? Amazing. Unless maybe they couldn’t rent it for two years because of all the tripping and suing.ME: (TO MY SON) I took a ride around your neighborhood. Then I looked it up. Did you know that terrorists once anonymously took a room two miles from you? You don’t believe me? Here: #TerroristsHideOutInYourNeighborhood. Those people come back! They’re not only evil, but they don’t change. Better you should move back in with me.ME: (TO MY SON) OK, I see it’s a gated community. You think that will stop a terrorist with a bomb on his belt? Give me the password so I can get in and don’t tell me you forgot it! You’ll write it down. OK, email me it. Plus an extra key. Also, I don’t trust your roommate. I’m telling you, he’s not reliable, which is why he’s living with you. I checked with his mother. She doesn’t trust him either. If she can’t trust him, why should I trust him to call me if God forbid, you fall down those 80 stairs and break something or an Ahm–ed blows you up? Oh … another thing. I checked your roomie on “WhatYouDon’tKnowAbout YourRoomie.com.” There are THREE, count them three people with his name. One was a maniac in South Africa. (But he could have moved.) The other was on “America’s Most Wanted,” but he was 53, however, he could have lied. The third was right near you – in Tempe, Arizona. I’m staying on it as his parole board hearing is coming up. Stay ALERT.ME: (TO MY SON) The last time I was there I smelled mold. God knows what else is there? Bedbugs? I noticed Bed Bug Spray behind the clothes in your closet. It’s also good for fleas! What the heck is going on there?! You could go into anaphylactic shock with your allergies!!ME: (TO MY SON) I’m still waiting for the e-mail of your password and a copy of the key. Even if you’re busy spraying, you can take a minute to write me a password.ME: (TO MY SON) I just remembered. There’s no washer/dryer in your place. So, where is the laundry room? While doing research I found that more young women are captured in their laundry rooms than in alleys. Even though you’re a guy … serial killers are meshugge. He could target you. I saw that on “Criminal Minds.” Also, DON’T USE THE UNDERGROUND PARKING. That came in second after alleys.RUNNING INTERFERENCE:

ME: (TO SON) I called and texted you. When I didn’t get an answer, I called your roomie. He told me you DROVE to California for an event. This, you couldn’t tell me, so I won’t go meshugge with worry?? So, are you driving alone, or with a group? Email me your VIN number and license plate! BTW, I now like your roomie. We’re meeting for dinner tonight. We both agree you’re dealing with a lot of hostility. So now I’ve got road rage to worry about.Remember I’m a professional. I can help you with that. So call me as soon as you get this.ME: (TO SON) I know you hate when I interfere, but I paid for you to join HandsomeJewishSingles.com Listen, can it hurt? Besides, your dad and grandpa on their deathbed made you promise to marry “in.” This, I take very seriously, as should you. I texted those young ladies who wrote back and uploaded their pictures on your Facebook.Personally, I favor Devorah. OK, she may be a little hippie, but she went to Day School and is applying to Yale. Now, why did you “UNFRIEND” me for caring??ME: (TO SON) Ok, I promise not to ask her to visit. Now will you “FRIEND” me again?!FOOD:ME (TO MY SON) : I got the password and key from your roomie. (He’s a doll, his mother must be a kvetch.) I made a huge pot of Borscht and Shav. You hated it when you were five. Well … try it now. Your roomie loved it. I also brought you leftovers … a small brisket, kasha, and some Kedem grape juice. Eat darling. You’ve lost weight. At least try? It wouldn’t kill you to be more flexible. Suppose you only had spinach and beets because, as usual, you forgot to shop?ME: (TO AN IN-LAW) Hi darling. You know that meshgugge diet you’re on – again. Well, for your Birthday, I got you a Juicer from the Shopping Network you wanted. Naturally I tried it out. It’s the pits. No really, it’s the pits. (A joke.) All that shmutz to clean. I made one glass of orange banana. It took 30 oranges and 12 bananas. I tried making matzo ball soup. You’ll love it, but please don’t buy me gifts from the Shopping Network. I already broke the George Forman grill, although the Ab thing makes a good rolling pin. Thanks. Not that I’m not grateful.ME: (TO A JEWISH COLLEAGUE) Eating disorder? I had a client with one. Of course it has to do with feelings of lack of control. Why would a Jewish child feel a lack of control??Meanwhile, in my house, an “eating disorder” is the inability to eat 30 matzo balls during Pesach.ME: (TO A JEWISH FRIEND) Miri, I tried your vitamins to make me look younger. I got a rash. My neck looks like a turkey on prunes. Stop recommending already. I have a publisher friend who told me those 60 year olds who look 30? They’re TOUCHED. And both are dead from Botox poison.

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.ME: (TO MY COUSIN’S DAUGHTER) I hear you’re meeting your mechutanim at a buffet in New York. Listen carefully, at $50 a pop, use your Yiddishe kup. The cheap stuff, e.g. rolls, yogurt, salad, they keep in the front. So head right around the table at the back to get the lox, whitefish, and salmon. Also tell everybody at the table. They’ll be thrilled to have such a thrifty daughter-in-law.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/Advising_Guys_on_Buying_Gifts.htmlAdvising Guys on Buying GiftsFeb 5, 2011by Marnie Winston-MacauleyIf you’ve ever gotten a rotten present don’t blame your man. He’s GSC -- Genetically Shopping-Challenged.The other day I saw a TV ad. Over a classy small, velvet box from a store no doubt frequented by Paris Hilton, a voice, halfway between James Earl Jones and Ben Gurion, said:Real Men Give Diamonds. It means never having to say ‘You’re Sorry’ again.If I look back on the stuff I’ve been given through the years by the males in my life, well…Now, as a usually rational Jewish woman with a modicum of saichel, I knew this is just more blather- hype for that love-by-hand-grenade secular holiday, Valentine’s Day.And, as a Jewish woman, anti-Semitic stereotypes tothe contrary, we are the least spoiled around “holiday” gift-giving. After all, what Jewess on Chanukah expects eight nights of diamonds in the shape of latkes?But then, what about those other days? Truth be told, if I look back on the stuff I’ve been given through the years by the males in my life, well…At age 12, I met Joey, a nice boy from Bubbe’s Brooklyn shul, whose dad was “Goldstein’s Dry Goods.” Joey presented me with my first gift from a boy, and with trembling chubby fingers I opened the package. And there it was:Thirty photos of the Myrtle Avenue El. (For the uninitiated, this was an elevated train line devoted to Brooklynites from Bushwick to Ridgewood.) Naturally, I thanked him profusely, which wasn’t easy as out of my left eye, I saw Bubbe doing dishes, her back heaving in silent hysteria. Maybe it was me? After all, what young girl wouldn’t swoon over more photos of a train?OK, I thought, so Joey was a nerd-keit. But this was an aberration, no? No.

At age 17, at my send-off to college get-together, “Marv” handed me a heavy box. Quaking with excitement, I slowly unwrapped. And little by little it emerged.A cuckoo clock.“I wanted to get you something ‘personal,’” he explained. His friend Bernie gave him the idea. (Thank you, Bernie, wherever you are.) I thought hard. Had I ever mentioned a passion for clocks? Jumping German birds? Cuckoos? Was this a ‘personal’ statement about me? Once again, I plotzed with faux joy.It’s been downhill from there. Now before you, my dear readers, get all huffy at my egregious lack of appreciation, it’s not the gift that gets to me. It’s the thought. And despite the most appreciated motive, these gifts were truly bad thoughts. Can’t they have better ones? So, after much deliberation, research, and years of clinical background, I asked myself, “What’s with these guys?”Here my diagnosis:They’re Genetically Shopping-Challenged (GSC). Despite the acute stress, the anxiety, the geshrei-ing, and the long female memory that accompanies rotten gift-giving, the condition has failed to make the Manual of Mental Disorders. Why? According to my reckoning, it’s a common condition that affects between 75-87% of the male population.Simply, the male is hard-wired differently from the female. Somewhere along the Male- Genome they lack the DNA to shop – for us. (Or, if they have it, it’s lopped, like a shopping- circumcision.) All I know is, by eight days, Poof! Gone.No doubt this is a vestige from their hunter days when “man” shopped: 1- to fix, 2-to shlep home bison, which is why today the average guy is terrific at buying sump pumps and car alarms that can be heard in Guatemala.Shopping for a woman, however, requires different shopping-gifting abilities, without which the typical male gets farmisht, farfufket, and fartumelt.Now that we know it’s not their fault, the female gender can do a few things to improve the situation:1.Don’t confuse rotten gifts with rotten love. Most men are not guilty of not caring. No. Remember, they’re Genetically Shopping-Challenged. Therefore, only send men to stores named either “‘R Us,” or “City” as in Perfumes ’R Us, or Godiva City. This way, even if they forgot what they came for, they won’t get confused.2.Hint in places they like. Personally, I’ve hung two signs that read: GIFTS I WANT/NEED/FIT, and DON’T THINK ABOUT IT. These are posted a) on the side of the computer; b) in the

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.snack drawer; c) on the bathroom wall.3. Give specific directions. True, most men hate directions when they’re lost in the desert in a sandstorm, but in Bloomies, men need details: “Third floor. Glove department. Second case from the left facing the elevator. White cotton. Medium. Go at three. Tomorrow. Ask for salesperson #12987. She’s waiting for you.”4. Applaud every real attempt. Face it, ladies, how often have we looked like we were just hit by a 14-wheeler when our poor man has handed us those super deluxe Ginzu knives? Effort must be rewarded. But don’t over-praise. I once received Jean Nate dusting powder and clap-clapped my way into enough of the stuff to sweeten a small third-world nation. So don’t overdo.After all this, I confess, there are some unlikely gifts I’ve received I cherish. My son recently bought me a red studded shirt with more bling than Lady Gaga. He said it “looked like me.”It was also a size two.Is this how he sees me? Or, could it be my progeny has figured a way around GSC? Either way, I’m kvelling.Finally, if you’re one of those guys who falls into the other 15%, instead of hocking me for being shamefully politically incorrect, please, do us all a favor and start shopping!

https://www.aish.com/f/m/Anger_Management_in_Marriage.htmlAnger Management in MarriageJan 15, 2011by Marnie Winston-Macauleyh e sm a r t w a y t oh v aeafig h t .You've just returned from two weeks at the Honeymoon Hilton and you're so wiggy with joy, you even think his inability to toss his dirty clothes in a hamper is \"adorable.\" You're even sharing his sweat socks!Flash forward a few months.Despite your loving requests, then sweet pleas, not to mention a hamper you appropriated from the New York Nets’ locker room, his soiled clothes have become part of the \"decor.\"Instead of sharing sweat socks, you're now wondering why a man who can make a jump shot from 15 feet can't manage a 6-inch \"hamper-shot.\" With the business of living, those \"little things\" you thought were \"adorable\" on the honeymoon have become a little prickly. By your first anniversary, your anger is set to \"Krakatoa.\" And then one day, you spew:\"You are a slob! You were always a slob! Your mother picked up after you! Well, I'm not her! And while we're on the subject, I didn't appreciate her bringing her own brisket to Shabbat dinner last week, and the week before! And you never take my side! Why?? Because you're a mama's boy! A mama's boy and a slob!!\"As you conjure images of tossing the brisket into the hamper, you wonder, What happened? How can I be saying such things to the man I love?!Anger is a lot like temporary insanity.In my advice columns and clinical practice, anger takes a top slot among the Big Issues that threaten our relationships, and our sanity. To understand how perfectly normal, generally loving people can turnshrewish, we need to understand a simple fact: Anger is a lot like temporary insanity. When in the throes, many of us are capable of using a verbal hit list on our mates we wouldn't think of using on a mugger. Threats! Maledictions! Name-calling! And the ever-effective \"silent seething.\"

Can we lop the angry beast? No.While each of us boils at a different temperature, anger within reason is a natural, even ––necessary part of the human condition. When it fuels righteous indignation and positive action, it's the stuff of poets, heroes and yes, survivors. But when it flails, unfettered and out of control, it can sabotage even our most loving relationships. The difference lies in how well we can tame, train and aim it so we don't “bury the hatchet” – in our mate's soul.THE 6 \"DONT'S\" OF ANGER(1) The Insult: \"Are you a moron?\" \"What an idiot!\" \"You're such a jerk!\" This may be the stuff of sitcoms, but without the \"laugh track,\" insults even when they're couched as –\"constructive criticism\" are character assaults. They land like a punch, and the sting renders –the \"victim\" deaf to your legit gripe. (The proof? Has anyone ever said, \"You know, you're right! I am an idiot. Thanks for clarifying!\") Worse, with each assault, another precious stitch is yanked from your mate's esteem, your mutual respect, and the fabric of your relationship.(2) The Prophecy: How often have we heard (or said), \"You're lazy! You always were lazy, and you'll always be lazy!\" Boom! Talk about leveling a blow, with one comment we've doomed our mate, now and for eternity. The result? As one newlywed told me, \"If she already thinks I'm 'lazy,' I may as well enjoy it!\" then he promptly kicked his \"lack of vigor\" up a few notches. Instead of positive change, this unholy M.O. invites, even dares our mate to \"follow\" his or her miserable \"destiny\" one we've unwittingly created!–(3) Hitting Below the Belt: \"Not only did you act like a fool at the party, that weight you’re gaining didn’t help!” This one-two punch qualifies as \"aggravated assault.\" While our intention may have been to get his attention, overkill totals our point, and our mate.(4) The Melodrama: \"You always ignore me!\" \"You never think of my feelings!\" Like salad spinners, these extremes toss us to nowhere. We say, \"You never,\" they say, \"Yes, I do!\" we –say, \"No, you don't!\" until we're dizzy from all the \"nevers,\" \"always\" \"buts\" and \"ah-ha's!\" The real problem? Lost in the cross-spin.(5) The Laundry List: \"Not only did you come home late again, you forgot to take the garbage out, and you still owe my brother $200!\" Hurling an angry \"list\" telegraphs that \"nothing\" is right with our world. Who could listen, never mind fix or take the blame for that much mishegoss? Overwhelmed, our mate will shut down, rather than climb our Mt. Everest of Misery.A close relative is The Mini-Series. Extending our grievances to a saga may get us a win, but like a confession under duress, can we really trust a deal from a mate who'd give up a kidney to get away from our harangue?

(6) \"It's the Little Things\": Hopefully, we've wed someone who shares \"the Big Things\" our –values and beliefs. But it's the \"little things\" that turn our laundry lists into life litanies. Carping over each small \"violation\" can makes us bigger violators of our mate’s human rights.Note: Without exception, anger is never physical.Related article: The Newlywed GameTHE 6 \"DO'S\" OF ANGER(1) Timing is Everything: Anger is unreasonable and unrestrained. It's up to us to set \"anger\" limits. Agreeing to a time period, say 10 minutes, where each may vent uninterrupted, allows us to express our anger fully, hear, then exit and end it. No \"buts,\" \"you dids,\" or \"you saids\" while the other is spouting. Each gets several turns, as necessary.(2) Call the Act, Not Personality: If we talk behavior, not character, and how it affects us, we move from \"blame\" to helping our mate understand, and resolve. Listen to the difference:\"How dare you walk in here late! You're so selfish!\" Now compare:\"When you were three hours late, I was worried sick. It upset me terribly, and that makes me furious. What can we do about it?\"Using the \"I\" word (as in, \"I felt\") helps us stay on track and moves the sound track from liability to responsibility.(3) Stay on Point: If we're angry over the budget, keeping it to the bucks allows us to focus on a solution, one issue at a time. That means we save the \"your mother's a harpy\" theme for a later discussion (with a wiser lead-in). The clearer and cleaner the grievance, the more likely we are to make positive headway with not only minimal damage, but maximum potential for creating a loving, caring and workable dialogue.(4) Pick and Prioritize the \"Poison\": Is it more important that he quit cluttering up the junk drawer, or that he stick with the budget? Contrary to \"popular opinion,\" we can't mold our mates to our personal standard of \"perfection.\" Separating the big stuff from the little, and choosing our battles with care not only increases the likelihood of our being heard, but is easier on our stomach lining.(5) Manage the \"Little Things\": As living with the \"little things\" comes with the territory, it's the better part of valor to let the small stuff go, take preventive measures, or trade-off nuisances. If he's into watching ESPN till 2 a.m, earplugs can save our voice and our nervous

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.system. The toothpaste is open and crusty? Buy \"his\" and \"hers.\" If he flings his shorts, we'll chuck them in the hamper as long as he gasses up the car.–(6) \"What's Fair?\" These two little words carry more raw power than Don Rickles on double latte. Asking \"what's fair?\" demands that the adult part of us show up. It challenges us to think as well as feel, and allows us to negotiate an equitable deal. After all, isn't that what fueled our anger in the first place? Working on \"What's fair?\" goes to the heart of our grievance and gets us squarely where we want to be: heard and heeded.A wise person once said that marriage is God's Great Roller Coaster. When we're on top, it's life's headiest ride. But oh, those mad, mad curves. Learning to navigate them safely insures that our most precious relationship endures and thrives far beyond the \"Mazel Tovs\" and –the Honeymoon Hilton.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/48964476.htmlAre Jewish Stereotypes Funny? Part 2May 2, 2009by Marnie Winston-MacauleyAre Jewish Stereotypes Funny? Part 2Where did the American negative Jewish stereotype come from?\"Stereotypes.\" Today, the very term can trigger a debate of Talmudic proportion. After all, generalizations are not only insulting, they're downright \"anti-American.\" Weren't we founded by fierce individualists to allow all individuals to be –individualists? Suggestions that all Italians are gangsters, Blacks are shiftless, or Jews are money-grubbing\" make our PC hackles stand at attention when we hear them aloud!–\"Stereotypes\" trigger a debate of Talmudic proportion.Ah, but when we see them? The Sopranos, Sanford and Son, Chico and the Man, The Nanny. All successes-by-stereotype.In our first instalment we looked at one of the veryfirst sitcoms, The Goldbergs that started in 1930s radio and became legend during the infancy of television. Using cracked Yinglish and Yiddishe kops, the show was rife with \"stereotypes.\" Yet, there was little, if any, shouting from the \"typical-negative-stereotype-that's-offensive-to- the-Jewish-people\" corner. We Jews were proud of the Goldbergs.Shalom, Molly, Hello Rhoda!In the 1970s we met Jewish, New Yorker, \"Rhoda Morgenstern,\" Mary's best gal pal, on The Mary Tyler Moore Show.Rhoda's mother, Ida, started showing up in Minneapolis with chest pains, distributing even- –handed guilt.[Excerpt from the Mary Tyler Moore Show: \"Rhoda's Sister Gets Married,\" 1973. Rhoda and Mary go to the Bronx to attend Rhoda's sister's wedding]:IDA: Martin [Rhoda's father], and I are glad that you, her best friend, are going to be here to support her in her time of real hurt.MARY: No, no. Mrs. Morgenstern, Rhoda isn't hurt that Debbie is getting married.IDA: She covers up. She's unhappy because she thinks that I think that Rhoda should be getting married.MARY: That is not true.

IDA:Yes, it is true. I do think Rhoda should be married. Rhoda knows there's a pain in my heart because she isn't getting married. Because there isn't anyone on this block who doesn't know that that pain is there.And so it went. Out went the wise, beloved stereotype, as over the years, we've watched Jewish media characters such as Fran Fine, Paul Buchman, Jerry Seinfeld, and Grace Adler, among many, kvetch, as \"Yiddishe\" nourishment was increasingly portrayed as force feeding, while Yiddishe succor and family sacrifice became \"suffocation.\"Where The Goldbergs was balanced, and used Yiddishe life to make a larger, universal point, this new \"Jewish stereotype\" got big laughs turning our traits and characters into punch lines, with guffaws around one note often sour: a Jack Klugman nose, a Sylvia Fine finger in a frozen Sara Lee, a –Morty Seinfeld missing a Paris trip to sell a few shlock raincoats.What changed was the message. And the wit, sarcasm, and yes, negativism of the 1970s was affecting the Boomers. Those nice, placid kids of the fifties, roared into the 60s, with outrage, and outrageous behavior. As Jewish humor is wildly and uproariously subversive, it was the perfect comic shorthand for this emerging generation. And ... it set a pattern.It's Not Just UsIncreasingly, American sitcoms of all stripes from –Chico and the Man, Sanford and Son, The Jeffersons, to Everybody Loves Raymond – began to use ethnicity with abandon.Let's look at a few.Notable is Lord of the Wimps, Ray Barone: He's been \"fixed,\" neutered, by \"Everybody [Who] Loves\" him. His Italian family are portrayed as low-class vultures who act with (hysterical) vengeance that \"comes from love.\"–Sitcom guys, in general, are portrayed as \"too-stupid-to-live\" infants with \"Women Know Best\" tattooed on their psyches. In The King of Queens, non-Jew Doug and his father-in-law are (talented and funny) court jesters for non-Jew Carrie, who often punctuates her irritation with \"Oy.\"The Jeffersons. While many may disagree, when the Jeffersons spun off from All in the Family, the point of view changed, although both were produced by the brilliant (and Jewish) Norman Lear. In Archie and Meathead, we had perhaps the very first sitcom that used stereotypes to bust them. In The Jeffersons, the message was muddy. While Archie's slurs and \"Meatheads\" knee-jerk liberalism kept colliding with each other and the world, George Jefferson, without a real foil or social agenda, was reduced, for the most part, to a Black caricature who \"moved on up,\" despite being surrounded by intelligent Black women (yet another \"stupid\" man/ smart wife stereotype).

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.We Set the MoldAny doable stereotype has some basis in reality.I have a Jewish mother. I do try to avoid the term ... but any doable stereotype has some basis in reality.\"–Michael Medved, American critic, and syndicated conservative radio talk show host..In fairness, there must be some truth in stereotypes, which are comic shorthand to get the big laughs before the first commercial break. More, \"Jewishy\" humor, regardless of how it's portrayed, must, at its core, resonate will all groups to be successful.And it's our very American principle -- multiculturalism – that's provided that universal appeal. Need proof? Quick! Tell me a Finnish joke? How much \"shtick\" can you do on \"that darn sauna?\"Look closely and you'll find that most sitcoms despite ethnicity--are influenced by the style, –cadence, and mind set of Jewish humor, and the Yiddishe kop. Simply, we were better at it, earlier. And we \"wrote (and produced) the words that make the whole world laugh.\" \"Raymond\" could be a crypto-Jew. Everybody Loves Raymond, could easily convert to Everybody Loves Mendel. And (brace now), we Jews \"Jewishized\" the American sitcom, in all its stereotypical \"glory.\"Stay tuned for Part III

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/48965451.htmlAre Jewish Stereotypes Funny? Part 3May 16, 2009by Marnie Winston-MacauleyAre Jewish Stereotypes Funny? Part 3Jewish stereotypes: shame or pride?\"Mr. Poisson,\" said the assistant, \"Your mother, Mrs. Fishman is here.\"He ran to greet her. \"Mama, are you okay? Sofia and I were worried when you didn't show up at our penthouse-warming party last night.\"\"The lobby? Gorgeous,\" said Mrs. Fishman. \"I came, I saw ... then I vent home.\" \"But Mama, if you were there, why didn't you come up?\" asked Poisson, puzzled. \"I forgot your name.\"Such is humor of Jewish assimilation.As Jewish males took center stage on stage and TV, stereotypical sitcoms leapt from their studios and pens even while these Jewish males were saying, \"Watch it. Too Jewish.\"–How could this happen?\"Shanda fur die Goyim.\"Many children of immigrants grew up hearing this cautionary comment -- a warning not to do something shameful in front of non-Jews. We Jews have long been in the ironic situation of feeling quite superior to those who would shame us.\"Shanda fur die Goyim\" became – a \"shanda\" mentality.In this new land, for some early 20th century immigrants and their children, \"Shanda fur die Goyim\" became a \"shanda\" –mentality.In the shtetls, Hebraic laws and traditions, sacrifice,protection, keeping our kids in the fold, were essential to keeping the family Jewish, together– and alive. In coming to America, I believe many parents found themselves \"outsourced\" as their smart, funny children wanted to fly and grab a piece of the American Dream -- an ambition hard to reconcile with their Jewishness. While Jewish immigrant culture informed and honed their wit, it also ushered in intense conflict between parent and child especially –for the sons. Long coats, earlocks, accents, commitment to shul, old world expectations, along with other Jewish traits and values, once revered, for some, became the \"shanda\" the –embarrassment. This was America! Separatism was deemed not only unnecessary, but a

suffocating noose, keeping the next generation from acceptance and assimilation in the Gentile world. They wanted to distance themselves from those characteristics. And they did so... in the Catskill Mountains, then television, literature, theater, and film.Assimilation required \"melting\" into the mainstream, which meant moving away from \"the public Judaism\" and traditions of their parents or away from Judaism completely. Jewish ––names were changed, yet these sons had no problem using mockery and self-mockery, hallmarks of Jewish humor in their work.Jackie Mason, a rabbi, never did tell his father, also a rabbi, he was running up to the Borscht Belt to perform. I once asked him how he thought his father would feel now, if he knew of Jackie's success. His answer? \"He'd say, ‘Whether you steal a buck or million, you're still a thief.'\"\"Write Yiddish, Cast British\" (an old industry expression)Some went underground, like Sid Caesar and his Jewish dream team of writers who used Yiddishe \"in\" jokes with abandon. When they created a Japanese character \"Taka Meshuga\" (Really Nuts), Jews were in hysterics, while Vanilla America was clueless.Others disguised or milked their Yiddishkeit and let it fly from the mouths of Gentile characters \"for the jokes,\" and/or as backlash against the powerful parental images and –expectations they (guiltily) left behind. Regardless, accentuating the \"negative\" brought the laughs. Virtually every major sitcom has a Jewish imprint, from The Dick Van Dyke Show, All in the Family (and spin-offs), Taxi, Sanford & Son, to Cheers, Seinfeld, Everybody Loves Raymond, and The Simpsons, for starters. And the \"typical-negative-stereotype-that's-offensive-to-the- Jewish-people,\" geshreid – and continue to do so, at the very suggestion of humor-by- stereotype.While interviewing Jews for Yiddishe Mamas: The Truth About the Jewish Mother, my clinical hackles were raised every time I asked one simple question: \"Is there such a thing as a Jewish mother?\" When pressed, virtually all could list \"her\" qualities ... but they loathed to be \"stereotyped.\" While all saw the cookie cutter negative images, they: either freely shared Jewish mother traits, and often hysterical Yiddishkeit to make their point; protested mightily; expressed total denial. (Take away her humor and there's no difference between Joan Rivers, and Queen Elizabeth without the crown. A mother's a mother.)–To clarify, is the answer to deny there's such a thing as \"Jewish humor?\" To avoid any reference to Jewish \"characteristics\"? To do so means Margaret Mead should've gone into plastics, as we've all melted into an American \"pot\" with no true distinctions among ethnicities. Ridiculous. Whether we're talking about Jews, Italians, Irish, African-Americans, or

the Zoa tribe, each group shares belief systems, attitudes, and values that bind them together, and are evident in thinking and behavior. True, 100% it's not. Also true, there are exceptions. Many. But anthropology isn't a personal resume. It deals in generalities. Patterns. Commonalities.More ironic, many of the \"typical-negative-stereotype-that's-offensive-to-the-Jewish-people\" are the ones making the loudest PC tsimmis that turned the term \"melting pot\" to \"multiculturalism.\" And other culturally iconic humor from Blacks, Hispanics, and others wear, and yes, milk, their perceived traits including cutting edge images with pride.––The question then, is how do we bridge the gap between the loathsome cartoon cut-out image called \"stereotyping\" and the very real characteristics that we, as part of a great tradition, share?Ethno-type vs. StereotypeIn this context, I've replace the hideous \"stereotype,\" and replaced it with a new term –\"ethno-type.\" No, it's not some dubious, slight of \"word.\" It's a perceptual change. \"Ethno- typing\" allows us to treasure our uniqueness as a group, without falling into the trap of carbon copying all Jews.Ethno-typing carries with it no positive or negative judgment. Traits are seen as true, generalized observations. Ethno-typing allows us to look, examine, and portray history, biology, values, traditions, and characteristics, without shame or the quick sound bite. It's in the \"method,\" or how we use them, that creates \"images.\" More, it allows the \"typical- negative-stereotype-that's-offensive-to-the-Jewish-people\" a way to share their Jewish experience and humor, without censoring for fear of \"stereotyping\" ... a way to view and portray our images through a new, updated lens.The Updated LensWhereas a half century ago, we were largely strangers to fellow Americans ...Whereas a half century ago, we were at best, odd or unknown, at worse, hated and feared ... Whereas a half century ago, we were forging an American identity ... And...Whereas a half century ago, we were fighting for acceptance in the secular, but \"free\" America...Today ... we have it. We're a hit! We occupy the top rungs of power, status, success. Our massive contributions in virtually all fields, have earned us an ethnic respect, even if grudgingly, that's unparallel in history. Indeed, we're still disliked and feared by some, who've added our very secular success to their very reasons. Then again, so are the Trumps, Martha

Stewarts, and in Britain, the Upper Classes. Yet, you won't hear them kvetching. They're \"flattered\" by mockery ... or are above it. If power and money is the bar, we've not only reached it, we've raised it. And that too, is our American and world \"image.\" Today.Yet some of us still believe we can't \"afford\" to portray our Jewishness truthfully in humor. Must we shudder at any \"Jewish\" comic portrayal? Should we burn our great gift of humor, which has, for centuries, included biting wit, mockery, sarcasm, and egalitarianism? A humor that has proved so universal, it has successfully influenced virtually all American comedy?Could it be that the \"typical-negative-stereotype-that's-offensive-to-the-Jewish-people\" voices, rather than the very soul of cutting edge PC, are really the outdated voices of the frightened and embarrassed \"greenhorns?\" Could it be that instead of defenders of Jewish pride they're really the voices of weakness, now crying, \"Shanda fur die Jews?\"The truly strong, the truly confident, the truly powerful don't fear \"shanda.\" They don't have to. They are joyous in their differences even in their foibles.–They don't have to or wish to \"melt\" to assimilate. The truly strong, the truly confident, the truly powerful hone and use their differences with pride.To be offended by, or wish to remove virtually all well-intended \"Jewish\" ethno-typical humor, is to me, to deny who we are, and what we've achieved. Personally, I can think of few things more offensive, or more damaging to our culture than attempts to annihilate it. Especially now, at the very time we've obtained the success to use it well, as did Molly Goldberg, and yes, even Grace Adler from Will and Grace who married under a chuppah, and wasn't the lone resident \"foil\" for a Gentile friends or husband.Especially now, when we have the power to make our comedic point without being \"the comedy\" itself.Especially now, as we again, struggle to insure the survival of our religion, and our homeland-- Israel, we must wonder what \"survival\" truly means. Throughout the Diaspora, while taking on, and contributing to other cultures, we've also managed to stand apart in our shared common beliefs, and culture. To be a Jew is to carry an ethnicity unto itself. A Jew is a Jew, not merely a Russian, a Pole, a Spaniard, an American.So we also must also ask ourselves, if we assimilate away from our magnificent beliefs and culture, what then truly \"survives?\"And so, we must finally ask ourselves, is it not part of our sacred duty to continue to define, redefine, and use our special gift of humor, so deeply imbedded in our spirit, so critical to that survival? And to do so, not only among ourselves, but to inform and entertain the world.Epilogue: Seinfeld, Episode 152

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.Jerry:I wanted to talk to you about Dr. Whatley. I have a suspicion that he's converted to Judaism just for the jokes.Father: And this offends you as a Jewish person.Jerry:No, it offends me as a comedian.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/As_The_Tsouris_Turns.htmlAs The Tsouris TurnsDec 11, 2010by Marnie Winston-MacauleyI us e d t o r e orw it f t he o p opersaaA s t h eW orldT u r n s.Here's t he e Jw i sh ver o s in .During the nineties, I had the honor of writing the venerable soap opera, As the World Turns, which recently, after over 50 years, like thousands of its former “Oakdale” occupants, fell into that great “bubbling” mine shaft, never to return, even as another soap.Like my own “evil twin,” I had a love/hate relationship with the sudser. I loved my boss, most of my colleagues, and the poor inhabitants of Oakdale.What I wasn’t crazy about was living there. In rain, shine, sickness or health, we had to keep that “World” turning, 260 days a year. If a wayward bus drove through my office (Ptui!) CBS would’ve sent flowers with a card: “So sorry for your freak accident. By the way, did you have anything in the machine before the tires ran over you?”More than the relentless deadlines, the daily goings-on could drive a relatively sane writer to vault from a cliff, side saddle with half the town. Like some rabid Twilight Zoner, once you pass the sign post that reads: “Oakdale,” you’ve traveled to another dimension, not only of sight and sound but of mega-mishegoss. A dimension where truly twisted villains go unpunished until they save a fourth world “soap” nation, 10-year-olds have 10-year growth spurts, star-crossed lovers get knocked into amnesia, relatives return from the dead like Lazarus (with a facelift), and “illnesses” abound that would confound even the Atlanta Center for Disease Control.To be fair, we wrote many “message” storylines. “Oakdalians” dealt with cancer, bigotry, depression, heart disease, incapacity, and living wills, to name a few.But, on occasion, even in the relatively stalwart Oakdale, the “Stomach Turned.”During my stint, I personally: Unshrunk a shrunken head to bring back a whole human; removed a man’s temporal lobes leaving him half brainless (not to mention forgetful); restored his memory with a lightning bolt, and created a viral disease by way of a spider.

Who could do such things? God, of course. Or the good people at CBS and Procter & Gamble.But interesting, there was one thing I couldn’t do. Move a Jew to Oakdale. (At least back then.)The lack of landsleit was curious. True, the “town,” somewhere in Illinois, was tiny. But it had a world-class hospital, a world-class design center, and did world-class business. Without one Jew? Sometimes, we tossed in a name at least, “Paging Doctor Co-hen. Paging Doctor Co- hen.” Much like the symptoms he was treating, “Dr. Cohen” was a phantom who no doubt lived in West Oakdale, next door to his equally elusive neighbor “Judge Levy.”Also curious was the general lack of Jewish soap writers, despite a fair amount of Jewish producers, and the fact that the radio and T.V. “soap opera,” launched in the 1930s, was largely the invention of Grand-bubbe, Irna Phillips, a Jewish, Chicago schoolteacher/actor - turned master storyteller.So why so few Jews, on and off-camera? No, this wasn’t some vile anti-Semitic plot twist. Simply, I believe Grand-bubbe knew she was writing for “VanillaVille.” In Irna’s “lands” people spoke in a “foreign” dialect. Listen:A diva learns that her 10 -year-old tatelleh was switched at birth and his real father has snatched him, but will return him for a price when the boy turns 20, which, in Soapdom, will be during Fall Sweeps. Mama’s response? “Golly,” “Gee,” “Golly Gee!” “Heavens!” “Heavens to Betsy!!” “My Stars!” “Oh, My Stars!” and the occasional “Darn!!”Sound like any Jewish mother you know? Perhaps instead try, “Are you meshugge?!,” “May your teeth get angry and chew off your head!,” or even “I’m calling cousin Melvin, the lawyer!” That’s better.We Jews are made for soap operas! Are we not plagued with mishegoss?Which raises yet another irony: we Jews are made for soap operas. Are we not plagued with mishegoss? Do our kishkes not turn, no churn, with drama? And can we not create this drama, oftenfrom bukpis? Personally, I can go the grocery store,and come back with a mini-series. (“A baby was left unattended, so, after checking the bathrooms, I wheeled the carriage to the manager, then a soda can exploded in aisle 3 just as a suspicious-looking foreign woman asked me where the hummus was… ”)

So yes! We Jews are the soul of soap stuff. And our mishegoss is better than their mishegoss. But more, VanillaVille has no stereotypes to heighten! (How much can you milk white bread and mayonnaise?) On the other hand, our stereotypes are alive, if not so well, and abound: the perfect fodder for continuing drama.If I had my way, I’d write a Jewish soap –As the Tsouris Turns. And if I did, this is how some of our storylines would look as compared to “theirs.”“THEIR” SOAPY STORYLINES VS. OURSStereotypical Storyline Them: “Amnesia”In VanillaVille, one klop and they forget their names, their spouses, even what they look like.Stereotypical Storyline Us: “Remembering!”Our macher diva takes an accounting, then pays a visit to those shmendriks, not nice bulvans,and shmegegges from her past and finally gives them their due. She never forgets!Stereotypical Storyline Them: “Cliff hangers. Literally.”-VanillaVille has its’ residents falling or jumping from cliffs and planes, or flinging, flying, and floundering in caves, mine shafts, underground cities, and jungles.Stereotypical Storyline Us: “Staying Put!”Using a 5-year arc, we follow three Jewish families, as each stays put in different rooms of the house. One “A” story might involve the adventures of a teen who creates an entire village in his room, and never has to leave.Stereotypical Storyline Them: “Back From the Dead.”People who died in fiery crashes, explosions, and other tumult, return looking not only gorgeous, but different from the plastic surgeries they had in the mountains of Montega.Stereotypical Storyline Us: “Back From a Kibbutz’”A wastrel son “went on vacation” to Israel and comes back, looking tan, muscular, a regular heart throb, who’s determined to start a “nouvelle” Kibbutz on Main Street.Stereotypical Storyline Them: “SORAS”In VanillaVille, “SORAS” (It’s true, my friends), or “Soap Opera Rapid Aging Syndrome,” is rampant. It’s a land without “tweenies” as children age up from 10 to 18, sometimes in a matter of months.Stereotypical Storyline Us: “SORIS”

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.Our children are plagued by “SORIS (with an “I”)” or “Soap Opera Remaining in Infancy Syndrome” where our children never grow up. Sheldon can be 37, and head of Mount Tsouris hospital, yet to his mom, he’s still “Shmooie.” “Mom,” however, our macher diva, has been blessed with “SHAYNA” or “Stay Healthy, Always Young, Never Aggravated.”So there you have it. The makings of a Yiddishe soap. And the best part? Despite “All OurTsouris,” in 3300 years, we haven’t been, nor will be ever be cancelled!

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/Bad-Reasons-for-Not-Moving-to-Israel.htmlBad Reasons for Not Moving to IsraelApr 29, 2017by Marnie Winston-Macauleyh erem a ybe o e oo re osm gda sn nso ot t mo e o r ev t I sal.In ho or on Yfom Ha’atzmaut, here are some bad ones.Birnbaum, 76, who lived in an elite condo in Florida felt the death was near, so he asked his sons to take him to the Holy Land, to die there and be buried in Jerusalem.His sons did as he asked, brought him to Jerusalem, put him in a hospital and waited. However, within three weeks, Birnbaum was in the pink. The doctor told him his blood pressure, heart?Perfect. When his sons came to visit he told them … “Quick! Take me back to Florida!”His sons were puzzled. “But papa … why? You said you want to die in the Holy Land and be buried in Jerusalem!'Said Birnbaum. “To die it's OK but to live here...!\"And so the old joke goes in America. Despite huge pro-Israel groups, many stop short of –making the ultimate commitment to live in the land God gave us.There are many superb personal and religious reasons to make Aliyah. After discussing and debating with some of my Jewish friends … some of their reasons made some kind of sense (a fear of not knowing the language, for example) while others were so “creative” I had to share. The following is a poll I took. Only the names, places, and a few examples were changed to protect the not-so-innocent. But the excuses are real. Very real.THE FIVE TOP REAL (DUMB) REASONS SOME AMERICAN JEWS MIGHT NOT MAKE ALIYAH

Note: Each respondent made a case in language Alan Dershowitz would envy. As a reporter, I felt it my duty to … clarify, interpret. So I added “short versions.”1. Doris and Alvin Shlickstein: “Darling. As you know, we are major supporters of Israel! Ask the rabbi, who we see faithfully on Yom Kippur and Pesach. In every major Israeli war we’re committed to purchasing bonds, contributing to non-profits, and sent Yad Vashem a refurbished water fountain from Alvin’s office. The trees alone we’ve planted should by now be a forest. We’re also part of a Facebook group that sponsors needed R&R for the IDF that –includes beach towels. And not just any beach towels … organic 100% pile-woven, combed cotton from Egypt. In fact, if my Alvin left Wall –Street, we couldn’t afford to do such mitzvahs!”SHORT VERSION: “I gave enough already.”SHORT VERSION: “– and we never heard of SKYPE.”2. Dr. Mendel Horowitz, D.O. specializing in thigh implants. In Las Vegas. “I would go in a second to our beloved homeland! However, after spending four years in The Icelandic Medical School, the Mississippi campus, and taken advanced certificates in thigh enhancement, my family and I feel God wouldn’t want me to have wasted all that education, especially as the Israelis would probably make me take additional classes to set up a practice. Another deep concern is failing to service my on-going patients who deeply depend upon my skills to enhance their well-being.”SHORT VERSION: “With a score of 457 on my SATs, the Israelis will put me in a Jerusalem middle school for the Yiddishe kop challenged.”3. Yitz Kleinman, retired businessman in New Jersey. “For years I told my late wife, may she rest in peace, ‘let’s go home – to Israel.’ This was during the Vietnam War where I paid some fortune to an agricultural college in Minnesota to keep our Myron out of the meshugas. Myron, his children and grand-children moved back in with me three years ago. If it was just me, I’d go in a second, but with the kids, my late wife, may she rest in peace, would make such a tumult up there, I can’t do it to her.”SHORT VERSION: “It’s dangerous there! What am I crazy? I could be having coffee, and BOOM!”SHORT VERSION: “... and the Israeli government will put my grandson, Lance, in the army. The boy’s mother wouldn’t let him use a butter knife until he was 12.”4. Rebecca and Morris Feinberger. “It’s always been an impossible dream and first on our bucket list. The problem now? We bought a house, 5200 square feet, in Connecticut, which was also on our bucket list … when the market was up. Gorgeous. Backwash. A yard with

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.trees, and the antiques we got? Don’t ask. Listen, my Morris worked hard for it! Anyway, with the crumbling house market … we’re losing, don’t ask. So … we discussed it and decided to wait until the prices not only come back up in Greenwich, Connecticut, but go higher, as we couldn’t duplicate in Tel Aviv for the same price or move my big antiques, my grand-bubbe –brought here when on the run from Russia.”SHORT VERSION: “Give up my stuff to live worse for more gelt? I ask you is this Jewish? SHORT VERSION: “... and it would be a sin to give up my legacy … the treasures my ancestors brought over while they were running from the Czar?!”5. Ms. Ruth Mandelbaum, Jewish macher in her community where she’s adored for her intelligence. She also has a spot on the Jewish Weekend radio station, JCRP in Cincinnati. “We all have a duty to consider Aliyah! I have three cousins who made the monumental sacrifice and went. However, my highest duty is to provide comfort and insight to my local community in Cincinnati. Some of my proverbs are on T-shirts on my website. For example: ‘HOSPITALITY IS A FORM OF JEWISH WORSHIP. ALWAYS SERVE CAKE,’ ‘IF YOU’RE WISE IN WORDS, THE DEEDS WILL TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES’ and of course from the late, great Ellie Wiesel: ‘INDIFFERENCE TO ME IS ANOTHER WAY OF SAYING DON’T GET INVOLVED.” I’m self-publishing this fall in time for the Holidays. The timing is the real problem. ‘TIME ISN’T WHAT YOU MAKE IT, IT’S HOW YOU USE IT.’ That will be in the book too.”SHORT VERSION: “I know nothing.”SHORT VERSION: “… and In Israel everyone’s smart. Oy. I need the competition?”P.S. And yes, I’m seriously thinking about it.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/Boomerangs.htmlBoomerangsOct 21, 2012by Marnie Winston-MacauleyMy grown son moved back in with me, and sure I love him, but seriously –enough already!A while back, I saw a fascinating smartphone commercial. An excerpt: Parents bidding farewell to their 25-year-old daughter, she guns her loaded car, moving out. After a few weepy moments, Mom and Dad look wistfully at the phone, then at one another.For ten seconds.Then they turn her room into a spa, hop a plane and land on the Storm Slide at Disneyworld’s Typhoon Lagoon.Now, for a little “reality” add on: While sliding happily, the fancy phone rings. Guess who? It’s -the 25-year-old daughter. “Roomie nightmare! No private bath! A dust-mite couldn’t live here! Will be back home when you return. Don’t worry! The spa people took your stuff back! Love ya.”If we’re “Boomers” they’re “Boomerangs.”Sound familiar?They’re the sounds of 80 million “echo Boomers.” -They’ve earned the title. If we’re “Boomers” they’re “Boomerangs” who grudgingly can be heardreverberating: “I’m back … back … back.” 30, 40, even 50 -year old progenies, in temporary mini crises or in “search of themselves,” are jumping into and out of our downsized abodes like Pop Tarts.Recently my grown son moved back in with me after his roomie lost his oddball little house by defaulting on the mortgage. So with no place to go, we agreed that he should move back in -- with me. In addition to his “stuff” he also brought ’tude. Translation: “I’m-an-adult- moving-back-in-you’re lucky so don’t--bug- me.”

The question of whether I was bugged didn’t quite make it to the ’tude. The “Boomerang” generation just assumes that we, like the Jewish joke hype: will be thrilled to have our adult progeny back and shall bask in the beauty that is “them.” Despite his notion that I couldn’t live without him holed up in his room, guess what?He was mostly wrong.To clarify, I adore my son, but enough already! Contrary to the Boomerang Belief, we Boomers don’t have Ace bandages draping our bodies – or our minds. We actually enjoy some privacy, and like going out for more than an “airing.”When your prodigal returns:Forget Felix and Oscar. We’re the original Odd Couple, only we’re both different “Oscars” who can’t seem to say two intelligible words to one another without drawing swords or big kitchen spoons. How strange, as half his DNA is mine. Obviously they were either lost down the birth canal, or our molecules, when mixed, could take down a galaxy.Moving Day:He showed up with 100 boxes, and enough wiring to electrify Papua, New Guinea. “I can do it in a day,” he boasted.Of course, he didn’t figure that in a two-bedroom, I might have to move my office. “You can use it as a second bedroom … when I go,” he said, helpfully.The Following Day:All precious reference books, files, hard copies, assorted papers, and matchbook covers moved to my once lovely dining room. My son, “Oscar 2,” and I had a slight disagreement over “organization.”Organization:I’ve spent decades perfecting my “system.” I live by it.My son is the only human I know who actually kept the label maker someone gave him for Chanukah. He was eager to use this atrocious machine to “organize my office,” now in a room 2 by 4. We did “label” a file -- in just over an hour: “Mom’s Ideas That Never Went Anywhere.” Only 5,000 more to go.After File two, “Tax forms, 1990,” I knew we were in trouble. So, we “dumped.” All my precious “stuff,” is now on the former dining room floor, as he’s settled into the second bedroom, adorned with empty Coke bottles, fast food cartons and wires.–

Food: Since his “independence,” he’s adapted a diet suitable to anorexic buffalos which strangely allows shmaltz but no cottage cheese. We segmented the fridge into “Mom’s chazzerai and Mine.” The rule” is, I don’t touch his stuff, however, my stuff is his.The rule is, don’t touch his stuff, I however, my stuff is his.Climate Control: I’m older and colder. I’m also one of those “turn the lights and air conditioner ‘OFF’ people.” I hunt leaking electricity like a nuclear reactor. He, in the bloom of youth is strangelysweaty at 110 degrees. The games started: He puts on the central air, I sneak in and turn it off. He sneaks out and turns it on. I’ve lost 10 pounds just from the running and turning.Washing & Drying: Remember when we sorted laundry by “whites” and “colors?” Since his “independence,” heaven forbid we should “mix” our stuff. We wash by “his” and “mine.” No doubt he fears that if my sweatshirt touches his, he’ll be afflicted with mutant cellulite.Wires: His bedroom is more plugged in than Comsat. He’s got big and small screens, apps, and appliances Homeland Security hasn’t yet invented. Where they end up? Maybe Pluto. All I know is I’ve spent 20 hours arguing with my cable company that we’re not planning an attack on the Stratosphere.Advanced Annoyance:HIM: “You bother me too much.” Given his knowledge of the DW (Digital World), my Boomerang sees me as a techie moron in constant need of HELP, when my computer alerts smoke alarms. OK, so maybe he’s right. What’s particularly annoying is after I’ve spent hours to locate which wire is signaling the Fire Department, he’ll walk in, sigh, CLICK on something, and Boom. Fixed. “You bother me too much” also applies to queries such as “So, what are you studying this semester?” or “What’s your major?” I’ve been compared to the Spanish Inquisition.ME: “You bother me too much.” He, on the other hand, feels free to ask me to count the hairs on his head before a date – and after. More, he leaves cabinets open (“What’s the difference? This way we’ll see what’s in them.” Right.) Between my “rule” of shutting off lights and his inability to close a kitchen cabinet, or actually toss stuff in the garbage, I’ve suffered several minor concussions.Trust me, mamalas. Once they’ve “tasted” freedom, coming “home” is an exercise in mutual regression. I now ask if he wants Oreos or fig bars with his Metamucil. He assumes mama will wallow in joy as he leaves empty cartons and soda cans around, which he’s sure I’m just dying to dump. On his own, he was a neat freak. Now, his stuff has turned us into “Sanford & Mom.”

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.The Boomerangs, a generation that has never ridden anything without a helmet/ seat belt, or eaten in a cafeteria that serves peanut butter, is a new breed; over-managed, over-expected, over-belted, over-entitled.In South Pacific, there’s a song, “You Have to be Carefully Taught.”As a therapist and a Mom, I have to ask the Boomer and Boomerang generation … were they? Oy.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/British_vs_Yiddish.htmlBritish vs. YiddishFeb 19, 2011by Marnie Winston-MacauleyOn my first trip to Britain, even though I spoke the same language, I felt very ditferent.On my first trip to Britain, years ago, something odd happened.On my home turf, I’ve been “shushed” – on occasion. On the other side of the Pond, I’ve gotten, “Talk, luv! Delightful!” Blaming it on the noonday sun, I boldly blabbered forth, kvelling from the “haw haws” and never questioned. Hey, my bubbe always said, I was ‘a pistol.’”Until that visit to the Earl’s house. (Not “Earl” the name, “Earl” as in “Duke of” except he was the real thing.) We were invited for the weekend to this Earl’s home-- on 2,000 acres. I was there only one day, when the Earl asked in his “chums,” who wanted to sit next to me and twelve shabby-chic nobles tripped over their Wellies for the honor.In a British version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner,” it was me -the Jewish New Yawkah.OK, Why? (Even I realized I wasn’t that much of a “pistol.”) My British-born husband enlightened me.“Well, maybe it was the fact that in a 500 year-old stately home you looked for the thermostat and –the closet. Or, you called the Scotch salmon ‘lox’and told your Jewish pate joke. Or, when the Earl suggested you put on your ‘boots’ to chop branches, you wore your Oldman’s with the stiletto heels. Or last night, when the game warden of Kenya clucked about the heartbreak of rhino horn poaching, you did 10 minutes on Israeli bonds. Or –”I got it.In a British version of “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner,” it was me. “The Jewish New Yawkah.” Like Roswell aliens, while the British have heard we exist, to actually capture one and hear “it” was a coup worthy of a place in the Guinness Book of Social Oddities.Fortunately for you, dear readers, I also came away with a few insights of my own. And as a public service, as always, I share them with you now…

TOP FIVE: BRITISH VS. YIDDISH1- Emotional Displays:British: Any sound above 10 decibels, e.g.: “You’re tearing my heart out!” may: a) appear to be making a “fuss;” b) reflect badly on the Queen, the BBC, and/or the prior war effort.Yiddish: Any sound below 10 decibels is strictly reserved for health questions, as in “A headache?! Pssst It could be an early warning sign.. ” Otherwise, making a tumult reminds family, friends, and those in nearby cities how much we care. True, our kishkes may churn, but bile-ratios are maintained through a regular diet of Maalox.Examples:Your progeny drops out of University to join a mime troop British: “This is a bit of a mess.”Yiddish: “Our name will be blackened for alleternity!!”Your husband got a big promotion.British: “A carnation suits you.”Yiddish:“You call the cousins in Boca and Great Neck! I’ll hold for Tel Aviv!!”2- Climate ControlBritish: God made temperature to be endured. Therefore, any attempt to change, alter, or futz with thermostats is not only anti-Nature, but unpatriotic. If the Queen can “muddle through” shivering and shvitzing, the least one can do is quake in front of an exposed uni- directional non-functional radiator. One drawback is the unfortunate scalding of house pets.Yiddish: Like a finely tuned Stradivarius, we are finely tuned to an indoor/outdoor temperature of exactly 74 degrees. At 76, you’ll hear, “Turn on the air before I chalosh!” At 73 degrees? “You feel that draft on my neck! Pneumonia, I’ll get!” We believe that if God didn’t want us to have central air, we’d all be lizards.3- HomesBritish: Style: “Camouflage.” Brits have spent a century perfecting 20 million indistinguishable, semi-detached “clone homes” – with net curtains where the average Brit –can bask in The BBS (Basic British Style) of complete anonymity. “New” as in ventilation, built- in closets, lights, loos that flush, fridges above two feet, are deemed “jarring” and cause Brit-

trauma. However, furnishings are “delightfully” jarring. Orange sofas, pastel rose wallpaper, curtains with zigzags, may induce car sickness, but nevertheless pay homage to the “post-War shortage.”Exception: Lawns. The British are gaga over grass. Dressed in bionic gloves, chainsaw helmets, and body warmers, they mow, hoe, prune, weed, seed and will trek 30 miles to see a mutant dandelion.Yiddish: Style: “Gutting.” As no house can truly reflect “us,” we look for potential, then hire Gentiles to break down, build, and move walls and ceilings. Our MBA (Minimum Basic Accouterments) includes central air, microwave, sub-zero fridge, blue washer-dryers, garbage disposals, air purifiers, and the right decorator who can feng shui in –tan. We don’t garden.We landscape, then point at it through our hermetically sealed, Country French sliding doors –in tan.4-FoodBritish: In my experience, the British studiously avoid any food that, when taken together, as in a meal: a) sounds/tastes good; b) consists of more than two food groups, one being an internal organ; c) has a visible filling beyond a cucumber. Much like coal, food is fuel to ward off rising damp (their walls shvitz from the chill) which is why traditional fare includes: glutinous porridge, tripe, yeast paste, toad in the hole, and 50 varieties of blood sausage.Needless to say, they use a lot of brown sauce.Exception: Starting at birth, the average Brit consumes more chocolate than Switzerland. This does not help their dental hygiene.Yiddish: Food is love. Therefore, the more food, the more love. We Jews are suspicious of any food when taken together, as in a meal that: a) consists of fewer than five food groups (batampte gezunta, , you can plotz from it, enough already, Alka Seltzer); b) can’t feed the Jewish population of Uruguay (should they drop in). As such, Jews are very involved with stuffing. Whether kreplach, kugel, gefilte fish, holishkes, or corned beef on rye, our stuffing, must be high, filling, and like love, be kishke-friendly.5- The “Kinder”British: Brit-parents take what they get. Any attempt to correct, say, crooked teeth, a crossed- eye, ears like satellite dishes, is fooling with Mother Nature. If however, a child can say, “Please, ma’am may I be excused?” without a glottal stop, and knows how to use a fish knife, no one will notice his ears are waving in planes.

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.Yiddish: Jewish parents believe in being pro-active! Should, heaven forbid, a child come into the world with a bissel shloomp, hump, weakish chin, or unsightly mole, the caring Yiddishe parent, after holding a small conference with the medical staff of Mt. Sinai, will spring into action and lop. After all, even the smallest pilke could lead to play group ostracization, which could severely compromise the kinder’s self-image, and eventually lead to career in manual labor.There you have it. Proof positive that if America and Britain are two nations divided by a common language, the Yiddish and British are separated by a DNA divide that would confound Darwin.

https://www.aish.com/j/as/Carl-Reiner-Remembering-a-Comedy-Legend.htmlCarl Reiner: Remembering a Comedy LegendJul 4, 2020by Marnie Winston-Macauleyh ec om d ei cg e n iu sh a slef thi isn d e liblefin g er r p in t so n a llfa ce s to fc om d ey .On June 29 , we lost Carl Reiner, actor, writer, producer, director, author, and pioneer, at the thage or 98.We’ve all heard the cliché “The death or one man diminishes us all.” As a Jew, at these times, I prefer to believe “The life of one man can enrich us all.”In Reiner’s case, the riches extend wide and his legacy is indelible.He was simply an original. Whether you’re a comic, a comedy writer, director, actor; whether you’re a Boomer, a Gen-ex or y-er, or even a millennial, there wouldn’t be a “you” quite as you are if there hadn’t been a Carl, along with his band of merry men and women cohorts who not only created a new kind of comedy that tested boundaries but also broke some of the boundaries they created.A father of the sketch comedy for Sid Caesar from 1950 through the 1960s, along with a dream team of writers and performers that included Mel Brooks, Mel Tolkin, Lucille Kallen, Neil Simon, Howard Morris, and Selma Diamond among other later luminaries, Reiner’s massive career had a bit of everything funny. He acted in films such as It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963), The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming (1966), and the Ocean's film series (2001 2007). –He co-wrote and directed some of Steve Martin's early hits such as The Jerk (1979), and directed notable comedies including Where's Poppa? (1970), Oh, God! (1977), and All of Me (1984).

It was Reiner who created (and sometimes acted in) The Dick Van Dyke Show (1961) loosely based on Caesar’s meshuggener Writing Room, where he met lifelong best friend, Mel Brooks.It started as a party game. It went viral. I’m talking about Reiner’s loving and slightly insane collaboration with Mel Brooks. Of course we’re talking about the 2000Year Old Man, where Reiner “interviewed” Brooks, the ancient Jewishy, irreverent codger.Here’s the megillah on Brooks’ and Reiner’s’ oldest mensch in the universe. (Don’t worry, I’ll shorten.)Stoked with a little Manischewitz at parties Reiner would throw Brooks a character from a Tibetan Monk to –an astronaut. As the story goes, one night at Mel Brooks’ Fire Island house, Reiner threw him a 2000 Year Old Man who had seen it all. Amonghundreds of encounters with the famous and not-so-famous, he mistook Paul Revere for an anti-Semite (“The Yiddish are coming! The Yiddish are coming!”)This was the stuff of not “regular” parties but those attended by humor royalty. It was the late Steve Allen who suggested the two make a record, and Allen booked a huge recording studio, filled with coffee, juice and friends. During the session in 1961, Brooks let his uncensored mind loose as Reiner fired questions, and the wild Yiddish, 2000-year-old man became history on vinyl, winning multiple awards.In 1961 the 2000 Year Old Man went public on television with Brooks as the world’s oldest man, interviewed by Reiner. A collection of five albums followed, along with books and animation. They not only got awards; they were a mega hit with audiences of all stripes.According to my extensive research, the last we heard from the 2000 Year Old Man was in the year 2000 in a book titled the 2000 Year Old Man in the Year 2000.

Carl Reiner, the son of Jewish immigrants was born in the Bronx, New York City, on March 20, 1922 to Irving Reiner, a watchmaker from Austria and Bessie (née Mathias) from Romania. His older brother Charlie served in the 9th Division in World War II.It was his brother Charlie whospirited 16-year-old Carl out of a machine shop by telling him about a free drama workshop sponsored by the Works Progress Administration. This was his first venture into the world of show biz.The change later inspired one of the funniest laugh-out-loud plays and films of all time, Enter Laughing which was a semi-autobiographical stage play in 1963, and then a film in 1967 about the major mishaps of a young Jewish boy in the Bronx who dreams of being Ronald Coleman, while his hysterically worried mother insists he become a pharmacist.During World War ll, he served with the United States Army Air Force. Initially trained to be a radio operator, after a bout of pneumonia, he spent almost a year at to Georgetown University training as a French interpreter. This led to his directing a Moliere play in French, his first directing gig. Next stop: Hawaii as a teleprinter operator. And then, bashert! The night before he was scheduled to ship out, he attended a Special Services production of Hamlet.After an audition before actor Maurice Evans, an officer with the unit, he was transferred to Special Services. Until 1946, Reiner entertained around the Pacific theater, until he was honorably discharged in 1946.Reiner had a lot to return to: his wife, singer Estelle Lebost, to whom he was married for 64 years until her death. The couple had three talented children actor and filmmaker Rob Reiner (b. 1947); poet, playwright, and author Annie Reiner (b. 1949); and painter, actor, and director Lucas Reiner (b. 1960).

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.In an interview I caught with Rob Reiner, and I’m paraphrasing, he commented that “…there is no better comedy or acting school in the world than the home he was raised in, with dad, and pals such as Mel Brooks and Norman Lear.”His autobiography: Too Busy to Die (2017) was both a title and his philosophy.Reiner, the recipient of 11 Emmy Awards, a Grammy Award, and the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor who among many other honors was also inducted into the Television Hall of Fame in 1999, believed his longevity was a attributable to several things, apart from DNA: keeping active, having a heck of a sense of humor, and enjoying the love of family and good friends.Those of us of my generation cannot imagine a world without our Carl Reiner. And thanks to him, his genius, his body of work, there will always be one.

https://www.aish.com/j/f/Celebrities-on-their-Jewish-Mothers.htmlCelebrities on their Jewish MothersMay 4, 2013by Marnie Winston-MacauleyJason Alexander’s mother wept when he told her he wanted to become an actor…According to Dr. Bruno Halioua, author of “Meres Juives des Hommes Celebres” (“Jewish Mothers of Famous Men”), about 12,000 of France's 150,000 physicians (8 percent) are Jews, whereas Jews make up only 1 percent of the country's overall population.\"We got to talking, about our mothers,” he said. “And I realized that most of my Jewish colleagues got into medical studies because we were prompted to do so by our mothers. It's the same all over for the children of Jewish immigrants – medicine or law!” laughs Dr. Halioua. “I think that is the secret of Jewish mothers, in giving not only love like all mothers, but tremendous self-assurance to their children.”“I was the first Jew to study medicine at the big medical cave.”I’m proud to say that I was the first Jew to study medicine at the big medical cave. ... I graduated in a week. ... My mother was the first one in history to say, “This is my son, the doctor.” She coined that phrase. –Mel Brooks as the 2000 Year Old ManOver the years, I’ve been privileged to interview and research many extraordinary people for my books and calendars. In honor of Mother’s Day, I bring you their equally fascinating comments about their Jewish Mothers.Michael Medved, Nationally Syndicated Conservative Talk Show Host: “My mom insisted on buying one day old meat and baked goods. As a pre-teener, I was embarrassed, but she made the point that there’s nothing embarrassing about being sensible. She’d say, ‘People have better things in life to do than watch you.’”“My mother was sloppy. When I was applying to college, she cleaned up the living room for my interview with Harvard. I was scrubbed, and put on a skinny tie. This guy comes in, and my dad who happened to be home, says hello ... in his underwear. She shrugged. My mother took the point of view (about the interviewer), ‘Don’t worry about this [shmegegge]. So I went to Yale … The Jewish Mother knows values and insists her children share them, live them.She’s treasures tradition. The keeper of the family welfare .... that’s her purpose in life. Her waking hours are spent figuring out ways to make her child and husband more successful and she will sacrifice. ”

Susie Essman, comic, actress (Curb Your Enthusiasm: “My mother's from the school that the minute you walk in the house you have to eat,\" she said an interview, describing her mother Zora. \"She asks, 'What can I get you?' and if I say, `Nothing,' the question just continues. One Thanksgiving, there were only six of us, and she had two 20-pound turkeys –plus brisket. Not to mention the eight sides and 15 pies and cakes. And halvah. I went onstage that night to do stand-up and I just read the menu from her dinner.”When I spoke to mama Zora, she had a slightly different take on the matter. “My kids don’t know this part of me ... a lot of it is, but it’s really not me. The fact is, I do make two turkeys on Thanksgiving but ... I’m trying to please everybody ... one likes this dressing, another likes that dressing. My children say I have a brisket under my skirt ... not me.”Fran Drescher: “I was fed when I was sad, I was fed when I was good, we ate to celebrate, we ate to mourn … and in between, we’d discuss what we were going to eat later.”-The remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served us nothing but leftovers--Calvin Trillin.Mallory Lewis, entertainer, writer, producer, daughter of the late Shari Lewis: “My mother’s best quality was that in her eyes I was perfect. She was always on my side,” said Mallory, whose “sibling” was a puppet named Lambchop. Was she ever jealous of her “little sister” who, when Mal was young, got all the public attention? She laughed. “Not at all. I knew she was a sock. But Lambchop was a source of comfort. Today, my own son will tell Lambchop secrets which mom will never hear!” Like her mother, Mallory is convinced her progeny is perfect. “Whenever we have a disagreement I convince him I know best because, I tell him, ‘I made you in my tummy.’ My son is going to be a wonderful hubby. Like my own mother, I support him totally.”Norman Lear producer, : “[Some] years ago, I was pleased and honored-and amused-to address the National Press Club on .... faith, vision, and values in American life,” said Norman Lear. “The amusement was occasioned by a vivid memory of my late Jewish mother. I had phoned her and said: ‘Mom, the TV academy has just established a Hall of Fame and guess who the first inductees will be? Milton Berle, William Paley, David Sarnoff, Lucille Ball, and Edward R. Murrow, and me.’ After a short beat, my mother said: ‘Look, if that's what they want to do, who am I to say?’”Jason Alexander: actor, “Seinfeld” fame. When Jason dropped out of college in 1980 to become an actor, leaving his New Jersey home for a studio apartment in Manhattan, to become an actor, “She wept,” he said. “That’s what Jewish mothers do. I was throwing my life away.” He told her, “Mom, in 10 years I’ll be doing Tevye on Broadway.” He beat his own

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.prediction and did Tevye nine years later in Jerome Robbins’ Broadway. His parents, Alex and Ruth Greenspan, attended the opening and his mom wept throughout the show, which of –course, is what Jewish mothers do.“My mother, Lily, was a phenomenal parent,” says actress-singer Tovah Feldshuh. “She was the connoisseur of tough love. She would say:‘Selfish people are the loneliest people in the world.’ ‘Never beg a man for a hat ... you buy your own.’‘When you walk into a room, see what’s wanted and needed in that space.’ ‘Be ruthlessly honest.’”Tovah, herself the mother two, has her own philosophy. “To be a good mother, Jewish or otherwise, you need to do two things: love your children unconditionally and sho–w up.”

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/Clipping_Internet_Coupons.htmlClipping Internet CouponsApr 25, 2011by Marnie Winston-MacauleyI never thought I'd miss green stamps.Today I spent four and one half hours on an IPhone. I was trying to get my frequent flyer miles transferred from my airline carrier to my new long distance carrier for a trip to Israel, which is why I bought into the hype and changed my long-distance phone service (not to mention cable, and broadband carrier) in the first place.Now, why would a woman who bid ten bucks over the “BUY IT NOW” price on eBay do such a stupid thing?I decided to go “hardcore.” Yes, I used a telephone.Because, the mega communications company held a meeting in my apartment building and was serving Kosher gourmet cupcakes. I took five, (two for “later”), and felt the guilt kick-in. And, the bold printon the brochures made this sound like one terrific deal! If I reached out online and let them touch my paypal account each month, I could earn enough air miles to orbit Ganymede. So, I spent the 32 seconds signing up. That was last week.Today, with visions of kibbutzniks dancing in my head, I tried to get my miles, which were to be given out based on every phone, TV, and/or cable, broadband connection service I purchased.I went back online. After searching, surfing, and screaming I came to the conclusion that there must be a host of web developers in rehab from setting up this site to make it indecipherable and un-contactable to anyone who hasn’t got a PhD. in “Buzzword compliant.”InSo I went hardcore I used a telephone. After listening to 47 minutes of the Ray Conniff –singers (would you believe) trying to Make me Feel So Young, 78 promos for digital de- scramblers, and a cyborgian voice telling me “how important my call was,” a chipper lad at “headquarters” finally answered.

“Well, we don’t actually handle it here,” he chirped,” but I can direct you to our website and you may find your answer under “FAQs,” e-mail us, or try the contact number under “Redemption” [ which of course was the number I called], and they may be able to assist you.”May?“So … where are you based, by the way,” I asked, putting my feet up and polishing off what was left of my last cupcake. I was determined my 47 minutes would not have been in vain.“We are an American based company,” he hedged.-“Oh, I know. I’m just curious about foreign cities,” I responded diplomatically, after picking up a slight accent.Finally … “East.”“As in New Jersey?” I asked. “Ummm India.”“Ah! My father was in India during WWII and always wanted to return. I was fascinated. So, what part?” I asked, thrilled at the prospect of making the most of this human op.“Thiruvananthapuram.”Okey-dokey, enough small talk.“Perhaps I can connect you with my supervisor.”“Bless you!” I yelped. Now we were getting somewhere. As it turned out, somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle.He satellited my call back to the Ray Conniff singers who were hoping to Teach The World To Sing. They had time. For that, and to reflect on The Way We Were, which, in my case, was about three years younger than when I first dialed.Needing more food, I hung up. “They” were counting on that.Just as I was looking for more cupcake crumbs, my credit card company emailed me offering membership in the “Premium Member Bonus Club.” Just follow the link, fill out the “simple” application, and ZOWIE! I could earn bonus money for each dollar I spend!I received a 20 pound package of information, forms, and affidavits that makes the new Health Bill look like a bread and butter note. I showed it to my cousin Myron-the-lawyer. It was his considered opinion while I couldn’t be indicted for signing, I should be aware of the

small print in paragraphs 34 and 132a which limited my “bonus” to ten dollars for each ten grand I spend. (I also thought I saw something about “smiting” my first-born should I try to get out of the “Enslavement” clause. Passover is over people.)Clearly I’m either a truly cockeyed optimist, or learning-challenged. Last year, I received a mega-monster mailing from a famous national organization for Boomers offering “huge discounts” on everything from Metamucil to airline tickets. So I purchased two airline tickets to Phoenix when a relative was ill. The “illness” fare from the airline, I later learned online, was$450. The Boomer company’s discount rate, brought it up to $525! I can only assume the “discount Boomer” rates are based on first-class tickets if you were going to Phoenix by way of Kuala Lumpur.Prior, I went to the website of a rental car company to claim my credit-card-discount-rental- car-promo coupon to the agent. It said “$25 Savings.” After dutifully entering all “pertinent” information, which included everything but my last mammogram, I got a pop-up thingy with rules printed in Lilliput. Needless to say, after perusing the “exceptions,” “exclusions” and “options” I learned I couldn’t actually use the coupon unless I needed the car on alternate Mondays and Wednesdays. According to the fine print, I believe an engine was “optional.”Now folks, I adore a bargain. Show me a half off sign, an “irregular,” or any shop called “Second Time Around,” “Memories,” or “Mama’s Treasure Chest,” and I’ve been known to hop a barge at the mere prospect of getting a pair of “irregular” pantyhose.So, when our brave new world reduced “bargains” to just a click away, I got truly excited. Just sign on, click click click, and all these “exotic” deals are at my fingertips. But I’m learning that, as with everything in life, too many of today’s ops are buried under mountains of flops. I clicked on “YOUR FREE LAPTOP.” Suddenly 200 other offers popped up, and I was forced to click “Yes or No” to questions such as: “Does anyone in your family use adult diapers?” For each! Finally, reaching the final page, there it was, in teeny tiny type. “You must accept 17 of these offers to qualify for points, which then ................... ”!I thought back to the pre-Micro chip days, when Mom and I wiled away a few minutes a week, communing while pasting Green Stamps we got at the market, into books to get a toaster. Back then, discounting, even coupon clipping wasn’t an avocation. We knew our grocer. We went to a store with our stamps and coupons. We had a human this side of the Equator we could talk and negotiate with, or complain to. Ours was “Irving” at Waldbaum’s. “Irving” knew us. “Irving” wanted us to sign up for special deals. “Irving” cared. And “Irving” only asked for a name, gave us a bunch of books, and we “were in.”

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.In this new digital age, the “days of Irving” are gone. My suspicion is, he’s been replaced by worldwide conglomerates who’ve combined to make sure no human can ever untangle or escape this vicious web.How do I know? I’m once again “on hold” for my airline-carrier-credit-card-broadband discount service rep’s android -- and I’m being serenaded with a vamped up version of What Kind of Fool Am I?

https://www.aish.com/f/p/Coming_to_Terms_with_Your_Parents.htmlComing to Terms with Your ParentsNov 27, 2010by Marnie Winston-MacauleyWhy should a perfectly competent adult suddenly revert to the fetal position in the presence of her parents?Melinda’s all grown up, most days of the year.Somehow, her children make it to school unscathed, her husband seems content, she’s lost 35 pounds, and she has a tag team of good friends who admire her pluck. This capable, reasonably sane, working mom manages to enjoy life's marvels while muddling through mini- crises with maturity and only a modicum of self-recrimination.Then she visits mom and dad. With the precision of the philharmonic, the strains begin from the mouths of her parents to the driving beat of that old standard, What Do You Do With a Problem like Melinda?Witness:Mom: “Look, Al. Melinda’s on time for a change!\" Dad: “You’re too thin. You’re overdoing again.” Mom: “She obviously isn't busy sewing on buttons.\"Mom, the Sherlock of shirts, has already noticed her grandson’s Izod. \"Come here baby,\" coos grandma to Melinda’s 10-year-old. \"Grandma will fix it. Get out the sewing kit, Melinda.Dinner will wait -- even if the turkey’s a little dry.”By the fruit salad, a frozen smile replaces adult conversation as 38-year-old Melinda finds she’s slowly folded into fetal position. By the time she carries out the five pound bag of leftovers (so her son will have a decent meal), not only were buttons sewn, but yet another stitch has been yanked from Melinda’s hard won self-confidence as she waves goodbye to mommy and daddy, nursing yet another emotional 'boo-boo'.Why should a perfectly competent adult suddenly revert to babble in the presence of her parents?

We feel like a child because we once were a child, and we possess the necessary memory buttons should our folks be expert pushers. On Everybody Loves Raymond, despite Marie Barone’s meddlesome mom's all purpose protest “It comes from love” --- it doesn’t. It comes from need, and fear.These parents send the garbled double command, \"Grow up. How dare you!\"The good news is, whether mom or dad plays the martyr, the critic, or the hysteric, most parents are at least conflicted. The mature part of them wants to support our adult independence. It’s the fearful,needy child within them that wants to bind usthrough emotional manipulation. These parents send the garbled double command, \"Grow up. How dare you! \"Even when the curtain has long rung down on childhood, many of us, like Melinda, are still caught up in the old songs and dances of yesterday, as our inner child dreads mommy’s or daddy’s disapproval. And despite reassurances from mates, friends, and colleagues, these early songs are forever replayed, at the cost of our own solo. Listen:Mom: \"How come I never hear from you?\"You: \"I'm sorry, Mom. I was sick last week.\" (Shrug, head hangs.) Dad: \"If you're so smart, why do you always screw things up?\"You: \"When was the last time I screwed things up!\" (Migraine starts.) Mom: \"I’d better pick out your wallpaper with you.\"You: \"I know what I want. (Silence.) Alright, see you at noon.” (Grimace.) Related Article: Forgiving My FatherGetting Out of the SandboxWhile all parents and adult children slip into the occasional pas de deux, when protecting your parent's feelings takes precedence over your own preferences and good sense, it's time to stop the music. Here’s how:1.Know you’re dancing. The beat of the childhood cha-cha is guilt, fear, or shame, rather than your own beliefs, wishes, needs, or sense, and sensibilities. Be aware whose needs you're serving. If they’re not yours, you're twirling.2.Know the dancers. Tell yourself it’s the frightened, possessive little child in your parent that’s dancing with the insecure, guilt-ridden little child in you.

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.3.Reach out to the mature adult in each of you. Allay and then bypass your parent's \"childish\" fears by standing your ground -- with empathy. For example:\"I know my decision to take a job out-of-state scares you, mom. You're afraid I'll forget to call. But I love and care about you, so keep the guest room warm.\"\"I like my job, dad. But when you run-it-down, it makes me sound worthless. I don't believe that's the way you really feel about me.\"\"I know that you think a ‘lady’ shouldn’t travel alone. I respect you, but I've formed a different opinion. I'll call you when I get back.\"While these new responses may stop the music, brace yourself for some rough riffs. Old tunes waft on. It will take time and maintaining your ground before the grown-up in your parent emerges (or gives up). Accept this fact: you can’t satisfy the child in your parent by sacrificing your adulthood.When old songs end, new ones begin, liberating songs of self-discovery and growth. Songs that will allow you to march forward to the beat of your own drummer.

https://www.aish.com/j/fs/Committed.htmlCommittedNov 4, 2012by Marnie Winston-MacauleyIne ervyJ ew i s h c omm itt , teehere’sa alw yso e on tfhe e s…I love being Jewish. I love Jews. I love talking to Jews. I love speaking in front of Jews.What I’m not always crazy about is working on committees with Jews. Oy the agony! Like the old joke, “two Jews, three opinions” multiply that by say, 15 Jews, and the opinions exponentially grow to 150.Here’s my list of Jews Committed to Jewish Committees.To our marvelous credit, We Jews by committee can do anything from putting on a show to reviving the Dead Sea (should it be important to Israel). But face it ... as a group we’re a little, forgive me, unorthodox.So you don’t pelt me with matzah balls, each are eager, passionate, bright, and have ideas –which are expressed at the same time in double decibels and in proper pecking order. Many committee members have three goals:1. to accomplish a noble mission;2. to maybe have a dinner (okay, a brunch) in their honor;3. to keep as much from their beloved Rabbi as possible. This is not a job for the faint-hearted, or a Gentile.For one thing, screaming is sometimes involved. Curses on heads have been known to come up. Debating for an hour whether chicken soup or barley will be served can lead to a string of “Fehs,” “Poohs,” and “May you’s” involving boils.After being on a number of Jewish committees in my life, I’ve observed certain types of characters who always show up – no matter what. So here’s my list of…Jews Committed to Jewish Committees:

Macher-Macher Man (MMM): Often the president of the Congregation, macher- macher man is not to be fooled with. (Believe me, the Rabbi tried and almost lost his tzitzit). Growing up, our MMM, “Farber,” anointed himself King of Jewish Queens. When we put on our shul’s production of Fiddler, was there any doubt who’d play Tevye? With, nebuch, a voice like sandpaper and a dance repertoire that consisted solely of the cha cha, he was to Tevye like I am to Bar Refaeli. His wife got to play Tzeitel, his daughter. The fact that she was 66, “vouldn’t matter!!” The whole cast was on Medicare. Which is why the MMM himself ordered my 18- year-old brother to do the Kazatskeh. He was the only one who could bend.Macher-Mavin (MM): Him (or her) you can spot right away by the name: Phredrik or Phryda. The MM is the one who did two weeks of stand-up in the Catskills, a faux painting for the shul, self-published a book of Zen-Jewish poetry, or directed “I’m A Little Jewish Teapot” for the Day School. All of which makes the MM, “the expert” whose face twists at every suggestion from “a commoner,” thereby scaring the committee with an attitude we don’t know from: menacing silence as we all wait for “the verdict.”The “Sha” LadyThe “Sha” Lady: It’s her job to “sha” you. You mumble? “SHA!” You yawn with a little throat clearing? You hiccup? “SHA!” You excuse yourself toget a piece pound cake? “SHA!!” She will hunt for extraneous sound with the sensitivity of a VU meter. No decibel shall interrupt the machers, nor will a moving member get the edge on the cookies. Worse should such extraneous sounds be allowed, it could, God forbid, lead to an extraneous joke, which might sabotage the serious work of the Committee finding a free –cookie vender.The Gantseh Balaboosteh: God bless her! She’s the one who silently shleps the pound cake, cookies, prunes, snacks, juices, plastic forks, cake plates, sets them up, dishes them out, washes up, wraps in plastic, and makes sure the leftovers go to the Shul. Quiet, unassuming, she asks for no help … and believe me, she wouldn’t get it anyway. What she will get is, “Mamala, next time you’ll bring for lactose intolerants?”The Screamer of Consciousness: This one suffers from TMIS (Too Many Ideas Syndrome) and hocks you with 50 ideas in 30 seconds, in no special order and by no special subject. He figures, “I’m gifted, if they can’t follow they’re shmegegges.” This, while the rest of us are saying: “What was that?” “Oy, I missed it.” “I thought we were talking about the silent auction?” “That was five seconds ago. I think he’s talking about miming the musical.” “Wait … he mentioned something about his mother-in-law.” Focus on Idea one, and he’ll come back at you, eyes rolling, with Idea 48 until the whole committee is farmisht– and told to “SHA!”

Copyright © 1995 - 2020 Aish.com, https://www.aish.com.Aish.com is a non-profit and needs your support. Please donate at: aish.com/donate,or mail a check to: Aish.com c/o The Jerusalem Aish HaTorah Fund PO Box 1259 Lakewood, NJ 08701.The Man from the Land of Luftmensch: This dreamer, who never wakes up, has terrific suggestions if only the committee had the budget, the know-how, the talent of Steven –Spielberg. You’re talking places to hold the event, he suggests Sinai – the Mountain. You’re talking staging, he had a friend who, in 1965 did the lighting for the Rockettes at Radio City. Perfect! His cousin’s wife knew Barbra Streisand’s hairdresser. Would it hurt to ask if she’d sing Sunrise, Sunset? The man could be a hit, if only his friends would return a phone call –and he remembered to make one.Kisser-Upper: She adores everything! If she wasn’t Jewish she would have been head cheerleader in High School. “Shall we serve chicken or fish?” will get a “WONDERFUL! I LOVE IT! WHERE DO YOU GET SUCH BRILLIANT IDEAS!?” With an ego of hock fleish, her goal is to make macher friends, but more, not make an enemy, thereby contributing to world peace.The Chutzpenik: He or she can be any of the machers above.You’d think in such disparate dysfunction the Jewish committee couldn’t put together a chair from IKEA. If you thought that, you’d be wrong. Somehow, it is through this unique Yiddishe mish mash that Jewish committees are the most powerful force on Earth. They build cities, raise funds for Israel, keep Shuls going, and could’ve found Bin Laden 1-2-3 … had anyone bothered to ask.Perhaps it’s our unique process of rachmones and sachel: We often have to make a tumult to solve one.God bless them all.A tour bus with 25 Hadassah ladies aboard turned over and all were dispatched to heaven. On their arrival the admitting angel told them that the computers were down so they would just have to wait. At that moment God intervened and said that he would speak to Satan to see if they could be temporarily housed in his domain. All went down to their temporary quarters.A few hours later God received an urgent call from Satan: “Take these Hadassah ladies out of here, already!”“What's the problem?” God asked.Satan replied, “'They’re ruining my set-up. Only a few hours and already they raised $100,000 for an air conditioning system!”