He's Got My Attention

It's an on-going saga for me: G-d speaks through deeds and I try to listen. Today, the one-sided conversation was pedal to the medal.

Right after putting my bike in its locker on campus, I went to watch the news broadcast by the library. Like nearly everyone else paying attention, I was estatic over the Chilean miners' rescue, and during rescue downtime, I went upstairs to my office. That's when I noticed it.

My fanny pack was ripped. Blessed be He that kept all my junk inside it, because it was torn open on the side.

So I improvised and wore my pack like a sling, ripped side up. Oh well, I told myself, what do you expect from a garage sale.

Right after statistics class, when I was looking right in the eye of some serious "between class" downtime, my backpack's left harness buckle broke. That meant I had to wear it like a toga - thank G-d for the waist belt.

Last but not least, my watch band snapped in my final class for the day.

So what's the message? With every mishap, there was a saving grace: the fanny pack became a sling, the backpack a toga. The watch went in my pocket. Things worked out and I blessed G-d for it.

Perhaps the Creator wanted me to pick my head out of my books and appreciate what I have. Okay, G-d, you've got my attention.

How Cool Is That?

I just sat down in the communal eating room before the library opens up at CSULA. It's 7:30 am and the 14th trapped miner was just rescued from the mine in Chile. Victor Zamora hugged and kissed his wife, laid down on a stretcher, hugged the President of Chile, and was whisked to the hospital.

How cool is that? I cried. With all the bad news in the world, with all the bold, unadulterated hatred we witness daily on the TV news, it is truly heart-warming to watch those miners literally come back to life. Thank you G-d for this gift of life, this magic to make us believe that anything is possible.

And thank you to the President and people of Chile - for caring enough about these men to make the rest of us care too.

Back To School Night

Tonight was back to school night. Not for my kids, but for me. As a teacher, it was my turn to be snubbed by parents, and snubbed I was.

Not that I took any of it personally. But when my 10 minutes of fame came around to present my class room agenda, there were only 4 parents to hear it. And I've got 21 students, which means a lot of parents were missing.

But I understand. I'm one of those parents. Not proud of it, just honest.

Happy Dreams

As I was walking down the street today on my way to the bus stop, my neighbor pulls over in her van, rolls down the window and say, "I had a dream about you!"

In truth, my first thoughts were on making the bus, and I was not exactly in the mood to hear about it. "Oh yeah?" I said, resigned that I was going to hear about it. "Yes," she says, "and you were happy."

I smiled, thanked her, and thought to myself, oh my gosh, what a gift. That was the best news I had heard all day.

I was heading towards my high school teaching job, which was giving me more than my share of grief. It was good to know that at least somewhere, in someone's mind, I am happy.

Shopping With Leeba

My dear friend Leeba called me this past Friday morning to mention that she had a half-price coupon for her favorite thrift shop to be used this Sunday. Sweeter words were never heard. Count me in!

So this morning, bright and early, my daughter and I drove over to the San Fernando Valley, where she stayed and played with Leeba's daughter and Leeba and I went second-hand shopping.

In a dingy, dark storefront in Burbank, Leeba and I spent two hours going up one aisle and down the next, trying to remember our sons' pant sizes and checking for stains. An artist and fashion designer, Leeba held one blouse after another against me to size it right, declared the colors worked, and even made me try a few things on. And it was all worth it.

Items priced at $2.50 and $3.99 were now half off, and that went for items marked at $1.99 as well. What should have cost nearly $100 cost a mere $47, and when it was all over, with great effort, we carried our gently used treasures out to the car.

Thank G-d for thrift shops, thank G-d for a washer-dryer in the house, and thank G-d for Leeba.

Join(ing) The Club

Yesterday was "Club Day" at CSULA. All recognized clubs had the option of having a table with their name on it, and sitting under an awning on the ASI quad. Of course, the newly established CSULA Jewish Club was there.

Me, along with my partner Victoria, who actually brought this all together, and Rabbi Moshe Levin took the challenge of finding Jews at CSULA. It wasn't easy and we didn't find many. But this adventure answered the question: Are there Jews at CSULA? The answer is yes.

We had an equal amount of non-Jews sign up, for a total of 6 people, along with our faculty advisor, the amazing Dr. Dany Frankl. How we met him is an interesting story.

After I strong-armed Gabby, one of four Jews I know on campus, into becoming a board member of the club (since 5 members were required, I asked Maria to be a board member - she was so excited!), I asked everyone I knew for a faculty advisor. Conventional wisdom (aka, no one else would do it), said the advisor should be Jewish. It was Lucy, an Armenian friend, who wondered if Dr. Frankl from Kinesiology was a Jew.

Yes, he's a Jew, former faculty member at the Wingate Sports Institute in Israel, current faculty member of Kinesiology, and he offered to sign on immediately. Talk about supportive, he's a gift.

The next step is to institute a "lunch and learn" program with Rabbi Levin, and see what direction the club goes from there. I am truly humbled by the open, revealed Hand of G-d in all of this. May we go from strength to strength.

Talking To Tam

Today was my first all-day at school. Meaning, class began at 8 am and ended at 9 pm. Ouch. If it weren't for the Starbucks at around 5 pm, I wouldn't be writing this. I'd be lying somewhere fast asleep.

My final class was a research course on nutrition topics. Sounds fascinating, doesn't it? Well, Dr. Tam is teaching it. For those of you who know him, well, fascinating isn't exactly the word that comes to mind.

But I love Dr. Tam regardless of how crazy he gets when he goes off on his tangents. A native of Hong Kong under British rule, Dr. Tam got his PhD at UCLA in biochemistry in the early 1980s. Having taken a biochem class, he gets oodles of respect for that.

But as weird as he may be, Dr. Tam is the kind of person you want in your corner. Because he cares. So when I told him how stumped I am about a topic for a thesis, he looked right at me and said, "you're political, do something on the politics of food."

It wasn't exactly an "Ah Hah" moment, but it got me to thinking. Which is the first step. I probably won't research that, but that's alright. The role of any good teacher is to get you to think. I never thought I'd ever say this, but Dr. Tam, you're great!