Our Father Our Child

I just read Our Father Our Child by Sudy Rosengarten. It was a poignant read.  She tells about her father-in-law, a G-d fearing, fervent Chassid who raised seven Chassidishe children in Toronto before there was any Jewish schooling there, quite a miracle.

 

He and his wife eventually move to Eretz Yisrael and Mrs. Rosengarten and her husband move there too, so her in-laws will have children near them.  Time passes, children are born, grandchildren marry and live in Eretz Yisrael.  Her mother-in-law dies and the book tells about how Mrs. Rosengarten and the extended family do their utmost to care for their partriarch.

 

There are parts to cry over and one very funny chapter to laugh over.  It's inspiring to read of a staunch Yid whose service of Hashem was with such a tmimus and simplicity.  And it's moving to read how the family admires him, loves him, and rallies round him.  It's sad to read about how he eventually ails and suffers.

 

The title of the book is a bit disturbing (see previous post) since referring to him as a child does not sound all that respectful.  It is true that eventually his needs are looked after as one looks after a child, and it is also true that it sounds like they had the utmost respect for him.  The title could have been better.  And the subtitle about the devotion of a daughter-in-law was unnecessary.  Although the author's devotion comes across clearly, the book is not about her.

 

All in all, I would recommend the book, both for the description of a fiery servant of Hashem, for the love of Yiddishkeit that comes across, and for the description of how a family devotedly took care of their father/father-in-law/grandfather.

How We View the Elderly

There was a good article written by Malkie Schulman entitled, "Old People Aren't Adorable."  She is bothered by a subtle disrespect that she frequently observes toward our elderly.  She thinks that the reason for it is that when we see someone physically incapacitated, we often assume they are mentally incapacitated.

 

She describes doctors and nurses not treating the elderly respectfully, though I have to say that I disagree with an example she gives.  Her friend wants to know why, when she takes her mother to the doctor, the doctor speaks to her, the daughter, and not to her mother.  She complains that he acts as though her mother isn't there or is a two year old.  Well, I think the answer lies in her question.  Did she "take her mother to the doctor" when her mother was 30? 40? 50?

 

This reminds me of an anecdote in "My Father, My Mother, and Me" (see here ) in which an elderly mother gently chides her daughter when her daughter says to someone, "I'm taking my mother to the wedding."  Her mother said it would be nicer if she said she was going to the wedding with her mother.  Likewise, saying, "I'm taking my mother to the doctor," sounds like taking a child, while "I'm accompanying my mother to the doctor" is altogether different. 

And did her friend sit quietly throughout the doctor visit or did she take charge? If her mother was the one who spoke to the doctor from the very start while her daughter sat in the waiting room, or if the daughter sat quietly in the examination room, the doctor would know to speak to her mother.

 

Another peeve that Schulman airs is the way people sometimes refer to seniors as cute or adorable.  She thinks it lacks deference and is appropriate for babies and little children.  And when kids went to visit a frum author in her eighties and came back saying she was "very sweet," she wondered whether this meant they did not appreciate her knowledge, her piety or talent.

 

I know what Schulman means.  I've also cringed at well-meaning comments.  For example, after seeing an elderly, ailing person, a young girl described him as "being alert." There was nothing wrong with that, but it rubbed me wrong anyway.  We often exclaim over certain newborns as being alert. 

 

I've cringed at an ad for a senior residence which described the activities available.  Maybe because it sounded like day camp.

 

Then there's "keeping the elderly occupied."  Like little children ...

Age is a State of Mind

I just received a special phone call. 

S is 87 today, 29 Tammuz, and she called to tell me it's her birthday and to bless me.  I take blessings from whoever wants to give them so her brachos were appreciated.

I told her that she's a role model for women decades younger than her.  S moves like a dancer.  She's light on her feet and graceful.  She drives, usually to shiurim.  She attends shiurim and gives shiurim.  She calls into radio shows and tries to make shidduchim.  She eats sparingly and follows an alternative health regimen.  She said she doesn't generally think about her age; when the thought occurs to her, she's startled.  Who me? 87?

We pray that Hashem grant S and all of us good health so that even as we age, we are as young as we feel and we should feel vibrant and eager to do more and more.  No retiring. 

A Different Perspective on Aging

Rebbetzin Tzippora Heller said that complimenting someone by saying they look ten years younger than their age is like saying a person has a BA when they actually have a Phd! By that she means, the older you are the more wisdom you should have accumulated, so saying you look young is the equivalent of discounting your additional years of wisdom.

Dennis Prager said he got the most hate mail after he wrote a column criticizing a 12 year old girl for addressing the Democratic National Convention and ridiculing the Vice President.  He wrote that it's typical of liberal society today to equate children with adults and to think that a child has a right to the floor, just like an adult, even though a child has not accomplished anything of note and has no wisdom.

On a more positive note, someone observed it used to be that a Bubby looked Bubby-like but nowadays we have young looking Bubbies (some of whom are still having children of their own).  Their comment was that this is a foretaste of Yemos Ha'Moshiach when death will be eradicated and even before that, the pasuk says a "naar" (young person) will die at 100.

Do you think you're too old to try?

Rav Dovid Kviat zl, who passed away this week, was one of the last of the Alter Mirrers - those who were in the Mirrer Yeshiva and travelled to China to remain throughout the war. He was a maggid shiur in the Mirrer Yeshiva in Brooklyn. He was the rov of the Agudah of 18th Avenue in Boro Park.

Rabbi Yair Hoffman wrote:

"Rav Kviat wrote under enormous difficulty. Since the 1960s, his hands would shake, and yet he overcame this physical impediment and continued to write his chiddushim. Soon, very few were able to decipher his handwriting. The galleys could no longer be typed by those who normally did them. Undeterred, Rav Kviat was able to locate someone in Yerushalayim who could still read his writing.

"And then, a few years ago, Rav Kviat’s handwriting deteriorated further. Now, no one could decipher the handwriting - not even Rav Kviat himself. Undaunted, he continued to write, because writing helped him crystallize his Torah thoughts. True, now no one would be able to read it, but because it helped him further his understanding of the sugya, he continued to write.

"And then someone suggested that he learn how to type on a computer. His initial reaction was that he was too old to learn a skill. He was almost eighty and the shaking in his hands was significant. His eyesight was poor. Nonetheless, he “jumped in.” In a matter of days, he was typing a few thousand words a day. His cheishek (desire) for Torah propelled him to nearly do the impossible, and in the process, inspire others to learn new skills at an advanced age. How many of us decided we are too old to learn something new? How many of us embarked on it anyway solely on account of our love for Torah.

"The computer had to be adjusted to accommodate his special needs.  He could not use a mouse, but he would be able to use a touchpad. Rebbi mastered the melacha. Whenever he encountered the person who taught him to type, he would jokingly say, “Mein Alef-Bais rebbi!”

"A few months and a few seforim later, he called the person who taught him to type and said, “Ich vill a leptop!” (I want a laptop).  He wanted to purchase a laptop to afford him greater mobility, so that he could learn outside and also travel with his “limudo b'yado” in hand."

****
What a refreshing, inspirational approach! It beats those who resignedly refer to their "senior moments," those who seem ready to retire to their rocking chairs (in their 40's!). We ask Hashem in Tehillim 71:9 "Do not cast me off in time of old age, when my strength fails me, do not forsake me."  Let us not forsake ourselves!