BDE, Helen Stone

Helen Stone of Cleveland (my grandmother's sister and widow of Irving I. Stone - he of American Greetings, Stone Chumash/Tanach, and the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland fame) passed away today.

Baruch Dayan Emes.

Audio of Hespedim for R' Nachum Zev Dessler zt"l

Thanks to SB and EK for the links, and to EK for the pictures from the shloshim.

The hespedim from the levaya of Rabbi N.W. Dessler in Cleveland are available to listen to online (high quality) at ZionTrain; or you can download or listen to any individual hesped from all of the various levayas (Cleveland, Newark airport, and in Eretz Yisroel) from LocalJewishNews.

R' Matisyahu Solomon, shlita at Shloshim for R' N.W. Dessler zt"l

R' Nosson Tzvi Baron shlita at Shloshim for R' N.W. Dessler zt"l

R' Eliyahu Brodny shlita at Shloshim for R' N.W. Dessler zt"l

EZ Reads 2/22/11: Could You Survive on $1,000?

This challenge (by a charity site) is really something: PlaySpent. What would you do if all you had was $1,000? Try the challenge. Sadly, the various difficulties that arise are all too familiar and true: From bank fees to insurance to any wrench thrown in your plans and its spillover effect on everything else. It's scary to think about, and it's scarier to realize that there's really no good answer. But it ultimately helps you prepare for the future by understanding what you need to focus on now.

Some other worthwhile links to start your day with...

• The community-wide hesped for R' N.W. Dessler in Cleveland will take place Thursday evening at 7:45pm at the Yavne campus on Green Road. Audio of all the hespedim from his levaya and burial are available online here; numerous articles which are all worth reading if only for the various stories from his life which are so telling have been compiled by the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland on their website here.
• Via JonB, the effectiveness of GroupOn. I'd say it's about what I'd have expected, which is to say pretty good for most and not so much for a significant group of others. 
• R' Natan Slifkin with an obviously ironic post, discussing WikiLeaks' contrast to many even democratic people and the Rambam's views that there are subjects which are not meant for the general public. One close relative said exactly that to me upon hearing another relative give a Science & Torah shiur during the Shabbos of my aufruf, noting that "everything he said is true, but it doesn't mean it should be said [because they can't understand it]."
• On the Main Line with an interesting historical view on the line about how the Jewish people were healthy until Rabbis became doctors.
• Elder of Ziyon shows just how crazy this world is, with people honestly believing - at least according to their tweets - that Israeli F-16s are dropping bombs on Libyans, or that Israel trained African Jews to shoot people. Nice.

The Man From Kelm

From this week's Mishpacha article by R' Yaakov Feitman, who was the Rav of the Young Israel of Cleveland when I was a child, the Cleveland Hts. branch of which davens in the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland building, on R' N.W. Dessler, zt"l:

Dignity. Serenity.

In thinking about Rabbi Nachum Zev Dessler these past few days, the words recur like the chorus of a symphony. You could not help but straighten your tie and adjust your jacket when passing Rabbi Dessler, even for a moment. In his later years, although it was difficult for him, he would don his kapote just to greet a visitor. Rabbi Dessler carried himself with the serenity of one who was constantly at peace with himself, with the world, and most importantly, with his Creator.

I heard from one of his wonderful sons that he could not recall his father raising his voice. It would indeed have been beyond the pale, because throughout his long and fruitful life, Rabbi Dessler remained primarily a man of Kelm -- both his birthplace and his essence. I remember Rabbi Dessler once telling me that in Kelm, they had the curious custom of making Havdalah in the back of the beis medrash near the door. When I asked why, he looked at me with surprise. “Where else could one light a fire without the smoke bothering someone's eyes and throat?”

That was Kelm and that was Rabbi Dessler.

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R' N. W. Dessler, zt"l Kevura and Shiva Info, Obituary

Via my parents:

R' N.W. Dessler (Plain Dealer via Dessler family)

The body will be at Newark Airport Cargo Area D at about 5:15pm today (Monday), but you should confirm with Newark Airport; the levaya in Cleveland was this morning at Yavne's building. The kevurah will be Tuesday at (can't remember if it's 6:15 or 6:30) at Shamgar.  They didn't say anything about shiva in Israel, but in Cleveland it's at Reuven and Naomi Dessler's house on Shannon Road.

The Cleveland Plain Dealer published an obituary of Rabbi Dessler.

L'Shana HaBa (1992 HAC Version)

Hat tip: Buda. There are a few videos from this performance - this one is apropos, after seeing my sister, brother-in-law, three nieces and a nephew off to make aliyah today. This is from the 1992 Hebrew Academy of Cleveland boys choir (I don't see myself, and I can't remember if I was in it or not, but a large number of my classmates and people from the grades just above mine are). I believe Yudi S. is the videographer and the one who posted them to YouTube - thanks!

For everyone else - enjoy, and admit it - those glasses were Awesome.

Movin' Groovin'

On Sunday, I received a call from one of my best friends in the world, Groovin'. We talked for about three minutes. Last night, I tried reaching him quickly after a Lander Alumni Council meeting to see if I could catch him, but it was too late. The next time I speak to him, he'll have fulfilled one of his lifelong dreams: Become an olah. {Shortly thereafter, he'll fulfill another one which the rest of us have joked about for a decade: Live in a caravan.}

I'm hoping to catch the Nefesh B'Nefesh video of his charter flight tonight, but I know already that I'm going to find it more than a little surreal. For some reason, it just doesn't click that he, his amazing wife, and their two beautiful little girls have somehow pulled this off and are really going through with this - even though we've all known for years that if there was going to be someone to do it first it would be him. I'll never forget a conversation we had during our first year in Israel, when I asked him if perhaps he was moving a little too fast; his response to me was simply, "I don't know, it's possible. But perhaps you're moving a little too slow?" Once again, Groovin' is calmly moving ahead in life, taking the next step confidently but carefully, knowing exactly what he's doing and what to do if he hits a point where he doesn't.

~~~

Growing up in Cleveland, I didn't actually know Groovin' all that well during our early years. He was in a different (more charedi) school until 7th grade, and when he came to the Hebrew Academy of Cleveland, he immediately took geek status with his long lanky frame and propensity to talk to himself in class. But by 8th grade, I was sitting behind him every morning on the window side of the classroom, with Deep Throat in front of him and L'il Jason to his left. By the middle of the year, we'd all settled on attending WITS for high school, and over the years, we all - along with DGEsq - became incredibly close. Groovin' and I roomed together in both our junior and senior years in WITS before moving on to OJ for our first year in Israel. Ironically, OJ was never originally in my plans; there had been another Clevelander two years ahead of us in WITS who had attended OJ a couple of years before, and one of my rabbeim surprisingly (to me) suggested that based on his success there, I would get a lot out of it as well. That strong and strong-willed young man who had grown up right near him was also extremely close to Groovin', and I'm sure that played a role in his coming to OJ as well.

After OJ, we both moved on to Lander. A couple of years later, I was married, and Groovin' was enjoying his times in Lander, in no rush to date. DeepThroat had come back to Lander to study, Li'l Jason was finishing up YU and had moved to Kew Gardens Hills, and DGEsq had gotten married and lived down the block. For the first time, all five of us lived within 3 minutes of one another, and it was awesome. A short while later, though, Groovin' "ruined" it, going out with our OJ predecessor's sister and of course, marrying her {on Super Bowl Sunday, no less!} and moving back to Cleveland. Groovin' then developed an incredible series of spreadsheets to help track all their expenses so they could start saving money and I believe he utilized that to start putting away for them to make aliyah. [As an aside, it was seeing the detail on those spreadsheets which helped spurn the Jewish Economics Survey, and Groovin's actuarial background has helped in its development. Of course, his spreadsheets were quickly made obsolete by Mint.com.]

Even with them moving, it's nice to be living in the 21st Century. Between Skype and Gmail and all the other technology we have today, odds are good that we'll be in better touch than we were even when they were living in Cleveland. It doesn't feel like they're moving to a place where we'll never see them; it's more of a feeling of "it's going to be a little harder to drop in on them than it used to be..."

I'm not sure why I'm writing this; perhaps I think that somehow this will make it click that he's really making aliyah as I'm doing this. It's odd - while it's impossible to imagine them making aliyah, it's also impossible to imagine them not making aliyah. This is such a core essence of who they are and what they're intended to do in this world. Groovin' and Classy and their girls are to a large extent the epitome of what NbN wants and what Israel needs: Bright, dedicated, reliable, amazing people who are starting out and who will help build the country in whatever way they can. That's just who they are.

If you're awake, take a few minutes and watch the NbN charter flight land. It's incredibly emotional even if you don't know a soul making the trip. In addition to Groovin's family, I believe we know at least one other family on this flight. Watch the people step off that plane and step onto the ground with that welcoming crowd... it's incredible to see. Who knows? Maybe you'll see Groovin'.

He's kind of hard to miss.

Baruch Dayan Emes

Hilda Goldish, a'h - better known as Grandma (or "Grandma Cleveland"). She was 95 years old. She had the biggest smile in the world, worked for the Hebrew Academy greeting card room until she was 87 years old, drank Coke (and only Coke) from 10-90, and lived in the same house on Shannon Road for nearly 60 years. She loved nothing more than little kids - "until they talk back" and her biggest complaint in life was that "that guy" on Jeopardy (her favorite show) who kept winning "wasn't letting other people have a turn". She also had a huge yellow cookie jar that was always full, a cheap plastic basket stuffed with strawberry (or Elite lemon) candies, and that bottom drawer in the kitchen with some of the oldest (but best) toys you've ever seen.

The accompanying picture is the last time we saw her, Pesach time.

The funeral will be in Cleveland on Sunday at 3:00pm at Berkowitz Kumin Bookatz.

Baruch Dayan Emes. We love you Grandma.

A Childhood of Potential II

Part I
Note the footnotes at the bottom. They're tangents that still play a nice role in the story.

Around December of 8th grade, most of us were busy figuring out where we wanted to go for high school. I already knew that I wanted to go to WITS, ever since a wonderful weekend of fun when my brother graduated in 1992, four and a half years earlier. [Ez: Woah. Scary that this is all so long ago. I feel old.] Somehow, despite my lack of stature in the class, six others were to join me on this shabbaton in Milwaukee - one of whom had a brother graduating there but was doubtful about going himself, and five others who were simply very interested. By the end of the weekend, all but that one were reasonably sure they wanted to spend their next four years in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. 1

Near the end of that weekend, we were given a series of tests - Math, English, and Gemara. The first two I had no trouble with; the latter was given my a Rebbe who had a reputation of being particularly tough for these bechinos, including some kids who had come out crying. I do recall one of the guys I was with doing so, which was surprising as he was one of the smartest kids in our class; but I didn't think much of it. What I remember from that bechina was being surprised that he was in fact asking tougher questions on material we hadn't really learned, but still came out thinking that I'd done pretty well, particularly by quickly figuring the material out on the spot.

By the end of February, we'd all received our acceptances and everyone knew where they'd be going next year, which naturally led to senioritis. I recall our 8th grade Rebbe noting that his career in the HAC had come full circle - from a class of great kids nine year earlier [ironically, including my brother] who had spent half a year testing him before finally calming down and giving him one of his best semesters as a teacher, to our class, which he felt might be the greatest set of kids with potential he'd seen, have a great first semester before coasting once we'd gotten accepted to high schools. One particular incident sticks out in my mind, though, that has to do with me personally.

In addition to all the math achievements and overall achievement I'd had in the secular studies, I was doing very well in his classes as well. Despite sitting in the back corner, drawing, staring out the window, snacking on Groovin's food in front of me, going to the nurse's office for an hour a day due to headaches, 2 and otherwise doing nothing, I still had only once scored under a 90 on a test - an 89.5 when I missed a few days because I was sick. My Rebbe asked to speak to me near the end of the year - as he did with everybody - and, as was common, he invited me to come to his house on a Shabbos [he lived on the next street] and we'd take a walk and talk.

By now you can imagine my shock and surprise when within a couple of minutes he states,

"You know, I had to convince WITS to accept you. They weren't sure they wanted to."

I was flabbergasted. I didn't know what to think: Huh?! WITS? How was that possible? I was... I was the best kid in the class! I was smart! I was a good kid, never did anything wrong, never really got in trouble... My brother had not only gone to WITS, but he'd just spent most of the next five years in their Beis Medrash, had been the dorm counselor, had won the award they gave out for to people who exemplified middos (and I was nicer than him, ha!), and everyone knew that WITS liked taking brothers, barring trouble with the older one(s). How could this be?!

But I waited for him to explain.

"They know you're smart and a really nice guy, but they think you're lazy. You don't put any effort into anything you're doing. They were going to reject you based on that. But I told them that that was their job - they need to teach you not to be lazy. They need to challenge you - I can't do it here in this class, but that's their job, their responsibility for the next four years. I kept pushing for you, and they finally agreed to take you and try. But you need to do it - you can't be lazy there, you can't do what you've been doing here. You have the greatest potential, but you need to learn to try."

Welcome to the most hated and repetitive word of my life. Potential. 3 [spit]

To be continued...

1 Interestingly, four of us went, while one was rejected. The five of us are all very close, and that one did extremely well in the yeshiva he ended up attending, though he encouraged his younger brother to go to WITS when he got in a few years later. Now he's a reader of - and rare contributor to - this blog. The sixth one did very well where he had wanted to attend. The seventh was given an interesting choice by his parents, who struggled with the idea of him going away for high school; he was told to choose what he preferred, WITS or a local more left-wing Modern Orthodox high school that was not producing as well as many of its constituents had hoped. He debated for a while, then chose the latter - and proceeded to quickly change his style of dress, his actions, and just about everything about him. A few years later, he was out of high school but still got his GED, went to Israel and wasn't particularly successful (v'hamyvin yavin), and I believe he is no longer religious. It's particularly sad because I felt he was one of the nicest and sharpest people I have known, and I thought we were similar in a lot of ways back then. If there's anyone who had potential, it's him. Interestingly, I have no clue what he's up to now, but I still would not be shocked to one day see his name in headlines somewhere for founding some brilliant start-up company or the like. He's that type.

2 I had bad headaches starting in 4th grade and lasting pretty much until Israel, with a few here and there since then. I realized later on that they were likely migraines, and there's a nice possibility that I got them because I really didn't want to be wherever I was.

3 Since I've had some comments both online and off jumping to conclusions, I'll just note that the above reaction was my reaction in the past, not as of now, though I still can't stand hearing it. Thankfully I've matured beyond that point, and obviously, any point in this series.

A Childhood of Potential

A couple of small asides, first... I've noticed, particularly lately, that among the new 'circles' of the J-blogosphere, for lack of a better word, are a number of really well-written, young [as in younger than my near-24 years of aged wisdom], bright, and clear-thinking college students. In addition to our friends Chana, SJ, Pobody's Nerfect, Fudge, and Moshe, who have been around a while, there's Scraps, The Apple, Erachet, Princess, and more. Lately, there have been a few posts that have touched on memories from schools past, particularly the different set of struggles faced by people who are smart, so... here's some of my own thoughts.

Growing up, I was one of those "straight-A" students who never had to try. I knew multiplication by Pre-K, and beat 30-year olds in Othello after watching them play one game... when I was 5. I distinctly remember one occasion in first grade in the Hebrew Academy, when we were practicing reading Hebrew words off a page of a large number of words, when the morah (teacher) used to use a timer with a buzzer. Most people got through about 1/3 of the page before the buzzer went off. One day, another teacher had come in to ask Morah Frumie a question while I started reading. I finished the page in seconds, with most of the buzzer time still remaining, and Morah Frumie proudly showed me off to the other teacher, who was astonished... and that's basically how things went for many years.

By third grade, they split a handful of my class off into its own group for math enrichment while everyone else learned fractions and the like. When we finished the (tricky) logical problems, we'd get to go to recess. This usually translated into me doing a good percentage while the others did a few, and then we'd all go to recess. I didn't really take math from 4th-6th grades; the few memories I have from any part of school was drawing, particularly football plays, lots of headaches, and helping to convince many a teacher that they were not in the right profession. Each year, they would place a number of us in a statewide math contest where we'd always place in the top 10%, often in the top few schools.

So far, so good, right? Well, no. I wasn't getting what I needed in terms of school and life, which was to be challenged, and I wasn't doing too well with a few of my friends, either. My best friend had gone to Israel for a year in 4th grade, leaving me in a bit of a rut in terms of friends; the change in the makeup of the two classes for our grade did as well. I got picked on a bit and was definitely cast as an outsider all-around, even though I still had plenty of friends; I lived in the wrong neighborhood (re: not wealthy or trendy, no designer clothes, and friends with those who were too yeshivish) for a lot of them and wasn't "frum enough" (re: no hat, srugi/leather kippa, polo or T-shirts instead of button-down) for the ones I lived around. My best friend had come back for 5th grade, but they left for good after 6th to Israel, while most of the people I hung out with after school were in the other class all day. Being smart didn't help anything, nor did having a huge overbite and lisp (thank God for braces later on) - it just meant that I was either relied on to bail people out or cast as a know-it-all or nerd to get picked on.

One of the parts I found odd was how so many friends would be truly good friends when it was just the two of us... but fantastically mean when other people around, because that was the 'thing to do' to try to be one of the cool kids - put everyone else who was similar to you down. Meanwhile, some of the cool kids themselves had no reason to put on a show (everyone liked them), and they were often the nicest to me, even if that still meant I wasn't getting picked to play in the 'top' basketball or football game unless someone else was sick.

By 7th grade, everything became a bit more extreme. It was the first time they truly split the class into two for anything by level, in this case, math. It was a strange class with a stranger teacher (stories for another time), but it was a class that was right up my alley. The teacher would often offer extra-credit points to students who could answer problems he came up with... and I was quickly banned from answering every other day, as I would be the first to answer each time, giving myself a 119 average. In Gemara, myself and one other guy battled for the best average, where he had a 99.4 and I had a 99.1 or so... except we both knew that he was trying as hard as he could and I was playing finger baseball or some such thing [and keeping stats!] in the back. (That certainly didn't dissuade people from thinking me a nerd. Ah well.)

A few months into the year, we took part in a statewide contest that was considered very big. This one was on an individual level, and our teacher had high hopes that a couple of us could break 30 out of 40 on the 30-minute exam which gets progressively harder from question to question. In a practice taken on an old exam, I believe I got a 32 while a couple friends had between 29 and 31. When we took it for real, I made two careless mistakes... and only one other mistake. My 37 was second in the state of Ohio and I still remember the euphoric feeling when a few 8th graders rushed in, picked me up, and carried me around on their shoulders in celebration. But that was it - a few minutes of fame, then back to being the quiet kid that people made fun of.

The next year, my parents finally got what they had been requesting for years: A special program to challenge me further. We had had one special science program after school in 3rd grade for a handful of guys, but otherwise, the school relied mostly on its own teachers to teach at a high level (which I do think they did, as compared to most other schools). I took history on my own in the hallway, our English teacher was good and challenging, our science teacher stunk and I used to basically point that out to her in class, and I took math at the high school 3 times a week one-on-one with a good teacher they had there [and he canceled on us about once a week, so it was more like 2x/week]. We would generally play basketball for 20-25 minutes (sometimes 1-on-1 or HORSE, other times with the high school guys - remember, G?), then learn math for 15-20 minutes. In just that short period of time, I knocked out both Algebra I and Geometry, which would help a lot once I got to WITS for high school.

But this post has already gone on too long, so...

To be continued...