I’m back with more adventures to report from the Jewish Book Council tour of Yiddish Yoga: Ruthie’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Position.

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In Houston, Texas, everything is big – breakfast, hair, the state itself. I arrived on a Monday night at 6 pm, but by the time I schlepped my bags to the fancy schmancy limousine waiting for me, (the benefits of celebrity!) it was close to 7 pm. The room at the Marriott is pleasant enough (with an excellent view of Starbucks) and I sleep like a baby, looking forward to a hot cup of strong coffee.

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I am invited to speak to the Beth Yeshurun’s Sisterhood’s Annual Luncheon at the local synagogue. Sandy, my escort, grabs my hand and with a mild drawl, says, "tell me about the rock" (my engagement ring). And so it goes. She tells me she is married to a “jubba” – a Jewish Bubba, who happens to be a doctor, a Dr. Jubba. Later, over delicious raspberry sorbet, as I was signing books, I find out that in Yiddish, jubba means frog in Yiddish!

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The Texan ladies are charming. One woman, though, sticks in my mind. She said, “darlin’, you were fabulous this mornin’! I really enjoyed your reading, But you read so much from your charmin’ book, that I don’t feel compelled to buy it now. Good luck, sweetie pie!”

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Oy vey. I sold quite a few books, and signed a few gals up for my Yiddish Yoga Cruise to Aruba and Curacao (March, 2010!) and headed to Indianapolis where I was treated to the most delicious Greek food I’ve ever had by my lovely hostess. I also reunited with an old friend from the University of Chicago Divinity School. My poor mother thought I’d be a rabbi, and I ended up studying Protestants and Capitalism. I’m happy to report there is a vibrant Jewish community in Indianapolis.

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P.S. If you are interested in joining Ruthie and Lisa for the First Annual Yoga Cruise on Holland America Line please call 1-800-695-5253. Lisa will teach yoga classes and a writing class called Facing the Blank Page, Facing the Yoga Mat. Hope to see you at sea kvetching and stretching, twisting and schvtizing!

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You can read more about Ruthie’s adventures and memories as she kvetches and stretches her way through yoga poses and braids the yoga tradition with her Jewish tradition, like a braided challah bread in the book Yiddish Yoga: Ruthy’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Position.

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Thank you for reading JWorld Cafe, The Poetica Magazine Blog

Lisa Grunberger, Guest Blogger

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Lisa Grunberger was raised in Long Island, NY, by an Israeli mother and a Viennese Father. She holds a doctorate in Comparative Religions from the University of Chicago Divinity School, is a Yoga teacher, a college professor and a published writer. Her chapbook of poems, Root Canal: Love Poems is forthcoming from Poets Wear Prada Press (Roxeanne Hoffman, editor, Hoboken, NJ). She has been published in such journals as The Paterson Literary Review, Mudfish, Nimrod, The Drunken Boat, and Bridges: A Jewish Feminist Journal. She has taught at universities including Hofstra, the Bronx Community College, SUNY at Old Westbury and Parsons, and the School of Design at The New School. She is currently an Assistant Professor in English at Temple University in Philadelphia. Her illustrated gift book, Yiddish Yoga: Ruthy’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Pose was published by New Market Press in September, 2009.

I will let Ruthie, the recently widowed Jewish grandmother, who is the narrator of my book, Yiddish Yoga, tell you her story about books, reading and Chanukah, the festival of light. (Ruthie sometime turns her personal stories into folk tales).

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It is said that the Jewish people are “people of the Book.” To my Harry I owe an understanding of what this means, because of his gift to me of one book, The Joys of Yiddish by Leo Rosten. This is a humorous collection of popular Yiddish words each illustrated by a joke.

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One Chanukah early in our marriage, we visited my parents, who spoke Yiddish at home. Momma put out a plate of golden potato pancakes with apple sauce and sour cream and a plate of hot suvganiyot, fried doughnuts dusted with confectioner’s sugar filled with apricot preserves.

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“Harry, why don’t you read to us from The Joys of Yiddish?”

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I wanted Momma and Poppa to see how funny Harry was. How heimish, which means homey, like family. Harry picks up the book, and I could tell he was nervous, for he was perspiring. It was hot in my parents’ NYC apartment. where you couldn’t adjust the heat. He turns to a random page.

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“Chozzerai: pronounced kho-zair-eye to rhyme with “roz her eye.” A Yiddish derivation from the Hebrew “khazir,” pig.

Food that is awful. “Who can eat such chozzerai?”

Junk, trash.

Anything disgusting.

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“In modern terms, chozzerai means crap. This may be a gross libel on the innocent pig since the pig, contrary to popular belief, is a quite tidy creature; he wallows in mud because he likes to stay cool.”

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“So Harry, you think I serve you chozzerai? You eat pig? You feed my daughter meat that is not kosher? You don’t like my baking? You think we’re not fancy enough?”

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Harry composed himself. “Mrs. Greenberg, Jewish tradition tells us that Elijah, the perpetually journeying prophet, appears in many unexpected guises in order to help people recover the spark of their lives. Books that we love are our lights, that help us dedicate and re-dedicate ourselves, which is the meaning of Chanukah, for the temple was rededicated. I am a lawyer, and I love words and books and New York, and culture and Yiddish and Hebrew. . . and your daughter, Ruthie. She is my light, my book, my miracle. I have dedicated my life to hers, we are building a Jewish life, a Jewish home together. And by the way, these are the most delicious suvganiyot I’ve ever tasted. A real mekhaye, a real joy.”

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My mother looked at the table full of food, the Chanukah candles burning in the living room, my father half asleep in the leather armchair, the Jewish Forward in his lap. Tears poured from her eyes, and she gave him many kisses and hugs. “You speak Yiddish, a learned man, a modern man, a mensch with golden words, words he makes dance. My son, my son, may you be happy together, with pigs, without pigs, with books, with children, with each other’s light.”

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Each Chanukah we made a tradition of remembering Momma’s blessing and reading from The Joys of Yiddish. And it’s such a funny book, we kept a box of Kleenex beside us because we all laughed so hard we’d cry.

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Now I bring in The Joys of Yiddish to my yoga classes and read to my students some of the strange sounding words and phrases. It makes them laugh, and Harry and Momma agreed this is the most pleasing sound to God. I have often said that I dedicate my yoga practice to my Harry. It’s like lighting a yahrzeit candle for him daily. My body is the dancing flame that continues to burn for him.

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You can read more about Ruthie’s adventures and memories as she kvetches and stretches her way through yoga poses and braids the yoga tradition with her Jewish tradition, like a braided challah bread, in the book Yiddish Yoga: Ruthie’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Position.

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Thanks for reading JWorld Cafe, the Poetica Magazine Blog

Lisa Grunberger, Guest Blogger

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Lisa Grunberger was raised in Long Island, NY, by an Israeli mother and a Viennese Father. With a doctorate in Comparative Religions from the University of Chicago Divinity School, as a Yoga teacher, a college professor and published writer, Lisa Grunberger is an entertaining and passionate public speaker. Her chapbook of poems, Root Canal: Love Poems is forthcoming from Poets Wear Prada Press (Roxeanne Hoffman, editor, Hoboken, NJ). She has been published in such journals as The Paterson Literary Review, Mudfish, Nimrod, The Drunken Boat, and Bridges: A Jewish Feminist Journal. She has taught at universities including Hofstra, the Bronx Community College, SUNY at Old Westbury and Parsons, and the The New School School of Design. She is currently an Assistant Professor in English at Temple University in Philadelphia. Her illustrated gift book, Yiddish Yoga: Ruthie’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Pose was published by New Market Press in September, 2009.

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www.yiddishyoga.com

lisa@yiddishyoga.com

Yiddish Yoga Author Lisa Grunberger’s Adventures in St. Louis, Missouri for the Jewish Book Festival, November, 2009

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In my presentation of my book at JCCs and Borders I move between my voice and my character, Ruthie’s voice. Ruthie is a recently widowed 72 year old Jewish Bubby (not Bubba, like they had in Houston, Texas, where I just was the speaker at the annual Sisterhood luncheon, a fabulous event) whose granddaughter Stephanie, gives her the gift of yoga to help her grieve. Ruthie kvetches: “ Who other than meshuguneh artists and the unemployed can afford to do yoga in the afternoon?” I’ll turn it over to Ruthie now.

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I just returned from a book tour that the mensch-lich folks of the Jewish Book Council sent me on. I was in St. Louis, Missouri where I was wined and dined by two terrific women (and bubbe’s like me!) – Nancy and Barbara. I would write their last names, but who knows what the privacy policies are on these meshugeneh virtual airwaves.

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I was given a marvelous tour of the newly renovated JCC by Marcia Levy, the maven organizer who runs a tight, but fun ship. These folks are proud of their JCC and their vibrant Jewish community. I wish I had taken a picture of the swimming pool area Marcia showed me. Before my presentation of Yiddish Yoga, I witnessed toddlers from the local Jewish day-care center splashing in this spectacular pool and right next to them, separated by buoys, were seniors citizens swimming laps. The young and the old side by side mid-morning, a moving sight. And I thought to myself, this is lovely, but what happens in between –the people who need to splash and play the most – all the over-worked Americans in mid-life – should be immersed in these waters. But enough kvetching.

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After hanging out with the photographer and the staff in the “green room” kibitzing and having coffee, I was escorted into the grand space. The audience could not have been more receptive – it was like a live laugh track! I was kvelling. And it’s true, that a performer (if I may call myself this) does indeed get energy from the audience. We did chair yoga, we did tree pose, and seated twists. Oy, it was so much fun. Even their technical sound system was impressive,. These folks on St. Louis know how to throw a Jewish Book Festival! Would you believe they are the largest Jewish Book Festival in the United States? And I, Ruthie, was up on the stage, kvetching and stretching, schvitzing and twisting. I’m kvelling for myself.

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After the show and the book signing where I met countless mensch-lich people (and if you don’t know the Yiddish, my book, Yiddish Yoga, has a Yiddish and a Sanskrit glossary), we went for lunch at a beautiful park on a lake. The best part was the old-fashioned custard at Ted Drewes after. This is an historically important foodie spot on Route 66 as it should be for ice-cream, after all, is one of life’s great blessings. Sometimes my memory isn’t so good, but it’s improving with all the yoga I’ve been doing. I think Barbara had strawberries and bananas on her custard, and Barbara had a brownie sundae. I had the brownies with pistacho nuts – delicious is not the word for it. I wish they could place it in dry ice and ship me some to NYC right now.

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Stay tuned for accounts of my travels to Houston and Indiana.

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I’ll leave you with one of my Twitters (you can follow me on this at Yiddish Yoga; I’m getting hip to all this technology at my age):

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I was at Loehmann’s and tried on a one-size-fits-all. It was too small; good thing I’m flexible or I’d still be stuck!

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Ok, here’s one more, and then I’m saying Om Shalom.

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It’s raining, it’s pouring, a yente on the mat is snoring!

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OM SHALOM,

Guest Bloggers LISA AND RUTHIE

Thanks for reading JWorld Cafe, the Poetica Magazine Blog

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- www.yiddishyoga.com 

- lisa@yiddishyoga.com 

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Lisa Grunberger was raised in Long Island, NY, by an Israeli mother and a Viennese Father. With a doctorate in Comparative Religions from the University of Chicago Divinity School, as a Yoga teacher, a college professor and published writer, Lisa Grunberger is an entertaining and passionate public speaker. Her chapbook of poems, Root Canal: Love Poems is forthcoming from Poets Wear Prada Press (Roxeanne Hoffman, editor, Hoboken, NJ). She has been published in such journals as The Paterson Literary Review, Mudfish, Nimrod, The Drunken Boat, and Bridges: A Jewish Feminist Journal. She has taught at universities including Hofstra, the Bronx Community College, SUNY at Old Westbury and Parsons, and The New School School of Design. She is currently an Assistant Professor in English at Temple University in Philadelphia. Her illustrated gift book, Yiddish Yoga: Ruthy’s Adventures in Love, Loss and the Lotus Pose was published by New Market Press in September, 2009.

Last February I began taking a local writers workshop called Mothers Who Write, taught by two editors of local newspapers.  Much to my surprise, in our first class meeting, they asked us all if we had blogs.

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I did have a blog at that time, though I had allowed it to become inactive.  While I had been planning my son's Bar Mitzvah, caught up in the insanity of all the minute details of the service and the party, I needed an outlet, so I started my blog.  Also, my son had become a little high-maintenance on me, becoming the Bar Mitzvah version of a Bridezilla - a Bar Mitzvahzilla, which is how the blog got its name.

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But my blog was my own little secret.  I wrote it, didn't post it anywhere, didn't share it with anyone, didn't tell anyone about it.  A few weeks after the big event, I wrote the final entries and then stopped writing.  I missed it, but I thought with a name like that, it was just too event-specific to continue.

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My instructors, however, had a different idea.  They told us in no uncertain terms that a serious writer nowadays has to have a blog and an Internet presence.  You can't hide in your house writing and expect the world to find you somehow.  They pretty much shook us down that day to admit which of us had blogs and then they sent the links to our classmates.  I was out of the closet and back in the blog business.

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I now consider this the turning point in my writing.  Having some kind of schedule for writing, both for this blog and my personal blog, having my writing out in the world without absolutely being certain of its reception, this was a big leap for me. 

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Start a blog.  Link to other writer's blogs in your blog.  Promote your work.  Amazing things may happen. 

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Thanks for reading JWorld Cafe, the Poetica Magazine Blog

Linda Pressman, Blog Editor

Two days of Rosh Hashanah celebration and services are now over. Four of our Congregation Bet Shalom writing group members read five different poems and essays at appropriate times during the services. Their contributions were greatly appreciated by the congregation.

The first evening’s service was opened by Sophia Bressler, reading her explanation and prayer “Teruah.” Later she told me that she had felt quite nervous when she began to read, but she was happy as she realized that people were listening and engaged in what she had to say. Everyone shared in her blessing: “Avinu Shebashamayim, I pray to You for Peace on Earth…”

Rachel Port read her midrash on Abraham, “Love.” Here is the final stanza:

Love has brought me no joy. Love is pain.

Perhaps that has been God’s lesson for me.

They just told me Sarah has died. I who am

not yet dead, now I am truly old.

I want no more love. It is time

For Isaac to marry and take on the burden

of the promise. As for me,

I will settle for peace.

She also wrote an essay about how she came to Abraham’s voice, which she has published with Associated Content:

Both of these stories show our patriarch Abraham as a frightening father….These stories have always troubled me…. Beginning the second year of the writing group I also wrote a series of poems about abuse in my own family, using symbolism from Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. All three are written from my point of view, but the first focuses on my mother's father, the second on my mother, and the third and last on me. From the beginning I conceived of this as a set of three poems. The first two came quickly, one after the other, and were read the second and third years. The third poem was harder for me to write; I could not figure out how to focus the final poem for another two years. When I finally did, I realized that I had not been able to forgive my grandfather, who died before I was born, for his abuse of my mother, and until I could let go of my anger, I could not find my own voice. The third poem was read last year.

And I think I couldn't get over my anger at Abraham until I let go of that more personal anger. My life has been fuller and more meaningful since I was able to forgive two old men I never knew. So this process of writing for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur over time has allowed me to work through important personal issues by understanding the Biblical family of Abraham. The group has helped me make the inward journey of the High Holidays and extend forgiveness to all concerned, even myself.

Rachel commented that as she read the poem from the bima this morning, after we read the Genesis story of the binding of Isaac, she felt the voice of Abraham completely take over her own.

I didn’t have a chance to talk to the other readers about their experiences, but they read confidently and with great feeling. People paid attention during the readings and could be seen looking at the booklet where all the work appeared. Several people in the congregation told me how much the creative work added to their experience. Everyone seems to be encouraged in their own searching by hearing the original words of their friends as part of the service.

Tashlich, Yom Kippur, and more readings will take place in the next week. For me, great satisfaction comes from knowing that my work with this group has helped both the writers and so many others to grow spiritually. And several people have told me that they hope to join the group in the future. I’m looking forward to resuming our meetings before too long….

When I began taking writing classes at a local community college in 2001, I was relieved to find out that there were students of all ages in my classes - literally from 18 to 80 years old since I was 41 at the time.  One of the reasons I had been afraid to take a class was that I was worried I'd be older than the other students.  Another had been that, with a degree, I thought it would be strange to take a lower division creative writing class at a community college.  That bit of ego was laid to rest right away too.  It turns out that plenty of people want to write and take writing classes.  In one of the first classes I took, the person sitting next to me already had earned a PhD. 

One of the older women in my first class had already taken that particular class eleven times.  She and her friends had no intention of ever not taking the class.  The semester I was enrolled with her, as a matter of fact, she missed nearly every class due to illness, yet she was enrolled and, according to the professor, she continued to do the work and do the writing from her hospital room.  She ended up earning a certificate in Creative Writing from the college and won a Poetry award. 

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I can always make up a lot of reasons why something's not going to work out for me.  I gave myself 41 years of excuses for not ever taking a writing class before walking into that class that day.  If I could have done it any other way I would have but, ultimately, I had to stop making excuses and start writing. 

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I don't know where the writing is going to end up but I do know that I have now learned to write; I've produced a body of work.  My words live not just inside my head anymore.  Everytime I press send, everytime I press enter, my words have an eternity of their own now.  

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Thanks for reading JWorld Cafe, The Poetica Magazine Blog

Linda Pressman, Blog Editor

Often tried to look us down

Deliberately tried to knock us down

Premeditatedly planned to run us down

Though you could have left us down

Collaborated in secret to keep us down

However from the dust we shall rise

Gaining substance in His light

Triumphantly we shall stay alive

His love will always be in our sight

Filled with all His power and might

Like Pharaoh relieved of his negative plight

He is waiting to bring you into His light!

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© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/19/09

© All Rights Reserved

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Yesterday I arrived home late from work and could not figure out what to cook for dinner. I thought for a while about my grumbling stomach and my mind flashed back to Eilat. There I sat on the beach by the Red Sea and had one of my favorite snacks and a light desert. Suddenly, a siren started blaring outside. What is this? Oh my, the blaring noise of the siren just shattered my thoughts; I still have to cook dinner! These are my favorites for a snack and desert at this time of the year:

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Appetizing Apple Strudel

Flour, brown sugar, chopped nuts

Eggs slightly beaten

Raisins, lemon, cinnamon

Apples sliced and spiced

Ready for my taste

No one drop I waste

Oven done--

Nice!

Passover Babka

Twisted dough baked in loaf pan

Nice cinnamon taste

Dinner party is ready

Streusel on top

My jaws are now dropped

Ready to--

Eat!

Nice National Snack

Falafel patty with beans

Fried chickpeas?-- that's mean

Soaked, skinned, ingredients mixed

My fingers I licked

Hummus on the side

Electric--

Slide!

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© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/14/09

© All Rights Reserved

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Epulaeryu poetry is about delicious food and drinks. It consists of seven lines and 33 syllables. The first line has seven syllables, second five, third seven, fourth five, fifth five, sixth three, and seventh one, which ends with an exclamation mark. The poetic form is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1. Each line relates to the main course with corresponding lines and concludes with an ending line expressing joy about the meal. The Epulaeryu poem was invented by Joseph S. Spence, Sr. who selected the name after touring the Middle East, Europe, Asia, various American states, and enjoyed many succulent and nourishing meals during those memorable travels.

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Talia Applebaum

The tides' been low for quite some time

So I've been sittin' here playing with soggy sand.

Burying my limbs in soggy sand,

Diggin' holes and falling in.

All the time waiting, hoping for a wave.

Look out there! Is that a wave coming in to shore?

Can I shake myself loose of soggy sand,climb out of hole

And catch that wave?

I'll have to leap and make a run for it,

Before it breaks on the shoreline. 

Can I emerge from soggy sand mentality,

Experience expanded vision and ride on it to new shores?

Talia Applebaum

"Those who sow tearfully will reap in glad song" 1

To face pain in raw form

No running to soft-edged cocoons

No numbing shots of novocaine

Only heart turned numb

 And not to blame nor justify

Wayward thoughts and wayward deeds

Who can withstand such trials

Only others overcome?

From where derives brave maturity 

To claim partnership for destiny?

All is within the gift of choice

Coupled with weapon-- prayer

Now ringing hollow in the ear

Yet in itself -- victory

Hence taking refuge under thewing

Of  Whom

 Whose closeness seems so far

Feeling like the living dead,

Sustained by spiritual life-support

The dead will yet be revived

In their mouths a song of joy

That reverberates throughout all worlds

Reaping harvests of heaven-drenched tears

And tear-drenched heavens

 1. Psalm 126:5