Tag Archives: Holidays

My December Dilemma

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Every year, right around this time, I start to feel stirrings.  All around me I begin to hear holiday (actually Christmas) music, decorative lights appear on the houses in my neighborhood and of course, there are the sales.  It’s hard not to be drawn into the frivolity and cheer.  My religious tradition however, has little, if any, public displays involving our winter holiday of Hanukah.  Traditional Hanukah music runs to the minor key variety and, let’s face it, “The Dreidel Song,” just isn’t particularly sexy.  Not to mention the home décor of the holiday is, well, let’s just say in order to stay away from the tacky, it’s crucial to use a LOT of imagination!  The traditional foods might be the best part; anything cooked in oil to remind us of the miracle of the oil lamp that burned for eight nights, rather than for just one, is on the menu.  Jelly donuts and potato pancakes are a highlight.  It’s enough to make any nice Jewish girl yell, “Oy!” and, “Bah, Chumbug!”  (Imagine that in Dr. Ruth Westheimer’s voice and you’ll get the picture). 

Every year I try to write something meaningful, spiritual and educational about my Jewish traditions.  There are, after all, a lot of lessons to be learned about bravery, perseverance and hope in the Hanukah story.  During the darkest days of the year the candles we light encourage us to look for the light in our hearts and our souls.  But this year has felt like one long, dark night.  Much has been lost to all of us.  My usual sunny disposition has felt clouded by fear and sadness.  Can eight little multi-colored candles really do much to lift my spirits?  Can they do more than a 10-foot, pine smelling, Christmas tree filled with sparkly ornaments and blazing lights?  (I’m not suggesting I’d get a tree lest my parents rise up from their graves in a hellish nightmare of a, “Goldie’s Dream,” from, “Fiddler on the Roof.”).  It’s no wonder Jews of all ages sometimes feel a touch of envy at the glorious, festive and public spirit of Christmas. 

But, and here’s the deal, the fried potatoes, the jelly donuts, the chintzy homemade decorations and the simple candles, are all part of MY tradition.  They are the outward expression of thousands of years of suffering, courage and survival.  This has been a year like no other in recent memory, for sure.  But my people are no strangers to coping with tough times.  Jews comprise less than one-quarter percent of the world’s population and yet, our numbers are increasing, albeit slowly.  Perhaps this is due to better health outcomes and longer life spans.  But perhaps it is also due to the observance of traditions like lighting Hanukah candles and singing in a minor key.  In the midst of chaos, illness, death and fear, holding onto familiar rituals helps us all, regardless of religion, remain standing.  Tacky paper decorations and greasy food marks the passage of time and serves to remind us that this, too, shall pass.  My December holiday may not be flashy or glamorous, but the memories it evokes do lift my spirits and carry me both back in time to happier days and spin me forward into an unknown, but surely different, future. 

I still sometimes feel like a kid looking in the window of a toy store, just able to look but not go inside.  Thankfully I can appreciate the music, I can visit places with lights and a tree, and I can celebrate another year surviving the darkness that has surrounded mankind.  I can also take comfort and pride in a jelly donut or a paper chain and know that I come from a people who survived the worst of times and still manages to celebrate eight crazy nights with some little colored candles.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the Editor of The Jewish Observer of Nashville, and a former small business owner.  Barbara loves writing, telling stories of real people and real events and most of all, talking to people all over the world.  The Jewish Observer newspaper can be read online at www.jewishobservernashville.org .

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Happy Hanukkah 2019

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Tonight, people around the world will be celebrating Christmas Eve, to be followed in the morning by a Christmas Day extravaganza of gifting, eating, spending time with family and friends and maybe attending a church service.  For my family, tonight is the third night of Hanukkah, a fairly minor holiday within the Jewish holiday calendar, but one with some significant lessons, nonetheless.

To begin, this year the holiday falls just after the Winter Solstice, which is the day with the least amount of daylight.  As we light the candles, adding one each night for eight nights, it’s easy to imagine the Menorah lighting our way in the darkest days of the year.  And this lesson is the one most often discussed, that even in the darkest of times, there is light.  And it’s a lovely lesson to share.  But there is actually more to it than that.

The story of Hanukkah goes that when the Greeks desecrated the ancient Temple in the first Century BCE, a small but mighty band of Jewish rebels rose up and liberated it.  In preparing the Temple for rededication, there appeared to be only enough oil to light the holy lamp for one day but miraculously the oil lasted for eight until more could be prepared.  The Hanukkah festival was created to remember that miracle.  But here’s the thing: there’s no actual proof the miracle happened and the history about the events that occurred is a bit murky, according to Jewish scholars and historians.  But that’s the case with many biblical era events, isn’t it?

For me, the veracity of the story is less important than the symbolism.  In addition to lighting the candles in a special candelabra, or Menorah, there is also a specific order for lighting the candles.  It all starts with the Shamash, or helper candle.  This one is lit first and is used to light each of the other candles.  They are placed in the Menorah from right to left, with new candles being added each night.  The Shamash starts lighting the newest candle first, continuing until all are lit for the night.

So many rules, amiright???  Yes, lots of rules for even the smallest task.  But think about it, when there are rules it forces one to be mindful, to consider what is required and to remember.  Each year my family discusses the order for lighting the Menorah and each year we discuss the meaning of the lights and we remember the story.  We remember our history and our place in it, our place in today’s world and our place in our family.  As we light the Hanukkah candles, we think about that small band of rebels who stood up for their beliefs and we are reminded that each of us can make a big difference it the world.  And just like the Shamash, we need to help each other to be a light in the darkest of times, wherever we are and whatever is happening.

So, here’s wishing you all a season of joy and charging each of you to be a light in the darkness.

 

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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Thanksgiving Reflections

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The house is finally quiet and empty.  Dishes are washed and put away, a load of laundry is in the wash and Bentley the Labradoodle is resting after a whirlwind visit from his humans.  I should be basking in the glow of a fun filled weekend with all of my family under one roof.  And while I am happy overall with the way things went, I admit I’m also a bit exhausted emotionally and physically.

This may be a surprise to those who know me well.  I pretty much wear my motherhood on my sleeve and long for those opportunities to spend time with my children.  But lately, I’ve come to realize that we’re all moving on in very different ways.  I still adore talking to my kids, in fact, they are the most interesting people I know.  I am constantly surprised and delighted to observe the way their lives are unfolding and to listen to their ideas about pretty much everything from politics to religion to sports, books, movies, etc.  We don’t always agree on things, but the exchange is always fun and often enlightening for me.  I learn from them and their experiences.

And yet, as exhilarating as it is to be together, the family dynamic in close quarters can leave me pretty wiped out.  Rather than a family of two parents and three children, we are now a family of five adults.  We have different habits when it comes to personal care, household chores and interpersonal relationships.  When we come together, we now bring baggage from our respective lives and try to blend during short, intense visits.  It’s easy to want to fall back into old roles, but we’ve all grown and changed and the old ways of being together don’t always work.  We have to re-learn how to interact and to be open and flexible with each other.  We also have to know when to give each other space.  It can be confusing and frustrating.

But there is one thing I know for certain, as I sit here unraveling the weekend: my family is worth the work.  And while it can be exhausting to navigate around each other, I am proud of the way my kids are living their dreams and changing the world around them.  I am inspired by their energy, enthusiasm and drive.  And frankly, they are a reminder that inside me is that newly formed adult bursting out into the future, eyes wide open and ready to go.  As I face the end of this year and look forward to the next one, I have only to look to them to feel myself renewed.  And I am so thankful for their presence in my life and for their journey passing through.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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Time Change

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Sometimes I sit down to write and I’ve got nothing.  My mind is constantly spinning, but unless I feel something in my gut, the words just don’t come.  That appears to be the case today.  This past weekend we turned the clocks back and I guess I’m feeling uninspired and sluggish.  The view outside my window is actually lovely; blue sky, leaves finally turning coppery and softly fluttering in the breeze.  But it’s 2:00pm and already it feels like late afternoon rather than a bit after lunchtime.  Even Bentley, the labradoodle, feels it.  He’s dozing on the chair in my office, tail twitching every now and then.

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Every Fall it seems I experience this same sense of sadness when the clock changes.  Farewell to summer, to my vegetable garden, to the abundant daylight hours.  I know the coming weeks and months will be festive and fun, filled with holiday parties and celebrating a new year.  But today I just feel down.  Tonight, I will prepare the last of my beautiful summer eggplants and this weekend I will clean out the beds.  The other day I picked the last of the bell peppers and jalapenos for the season.  This year I planted a couple of beds with cool weather greens and they are doing well, but I already miss my fragrant tomatoes, the unruly squash and cucumbers.

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This year’s time change has brought other changes, too.  My daughter, newly returned from California, will soon be moving into her new condo.  I’m happy for her, glad she’ll have a new place to call her own.  But I’ll miss her comings and goings in my house.  A friend recently joked with me that we just can’t get rid of the adult children, and it’s true.  They cycle in and out as they transition from one thing to another.  But honestly, I’m happy they know our arms and our doors are always open when they need us.  Yes, it’s disrupting, but all things being equal, I’ll take this type of disruption any day of the week.  The fridge is fully stocked, the washing machine runs constantly, but I’m enjoying this short-term visit with my parenting past.

The shadows are growing longer and it’s still just mid-afternoon.  I know this feeling won’t last long.  In a couple of days, I’ll be used to this new season and have more energy to face the darker months.  But right now I’ll just watch the waning light outside my window and say a little farewell to summer.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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Happy New Year: Asking for Forgiveness

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As I sit writing this month’s post, I am in a contemplative mood.  The Jewish High Holidays are around the corner, in fact as of the publication date, it is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.  And the 10 days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement, are also called “The Days of Awe.”  These are the holiest days for us and an opportunity to reflect on the past year, to take stock of ourselves and our lives and to think about how we can grow into better versions of ourselves in the coming year.

One of the most important things we do at this time is to ask forgiveness of those we’ve wronged or hurt during the year.  It is customary to do this in person but in these days of electronic communication, many accomplish this task via social media.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I believe it is always appropriate to ask forgiveness in whatever fashion is available.  But much like sending an email thank you note, to me it falls in the “better than nothing,” category.  In other words, not as personal and seems like the easy way out.  But…better than nothing.  There is also the mandate that if you are the person who is being asked for forgiveness, that you must try to accept.  If, after three attempts you cannot accept, the person doing the asking is “off the hook,” so to speak.

Why all this focus on forgiveness being asked for and granted?  I don’t have a rabbinic answer, but I do have my answer.  To be honest, I have a very difficult time admitting when I’m wrong.  I know I inherited this from my dad and try as I might, it’s probably the thing I struggle with the hardest in relationships (ask my husband for more on that).  But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that admitting you’ve been wrong and asking for forgiveness is one of the strongest things a person can do.  Taking responsibility for our actions, I believe, is fundamental to fostering and maintaining healthy relationships.  Not only that, but granting forgiveness when asked is also fundamental.  These behaviors serve to level the playing field between people.  Recognizing our basic, common humanity, moving beyond our mistakes and even loving each other in spite of it all is perhaps the trickiest, and yet, most rewarding thing in a relationship.

This coming year, I hope to become better at admitting when I’m wrong, asking for forgiveness and granting forgiveness to others.  And while I can’t actually ask each of you in person, I’ll take advantage of this forum to ask for forgiveness if I’ve hurt or wronged you in any way.  To those I can ask in person, stay tuned.  And to everyone, here’s wishing a happy, healthy and sweet New Year, whatever your faith, tradition, practice or belief.  Because who couldn’t use a little more happy, healthy and sweet?

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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Reflections on the Family Dinner

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This last few weeks has been hard for me for many reasons. My business has shifted gears, in a positive way, but has resulted in long hours and many decisions.  My husband has been working on a big project at work, so we haven’t had as much time together as usual, leaving us both irritable and feeling disconnected.  The Jewish holidays have come and gone and, while spiritually uplifting, the attendant socializing and entertaining have me feeling somewhat depleted physically.  And then there’s the big elephant in the room, the circus freak-show going on in Washington, which makes me sad, depressed, angry and frightened.  I am not really a negative person, in fact most people would say I’m unnaturally optimistic, but this month has been a struggle, even for me.

But, dear reader, do not despair. I was hit with inspiration the other day during a random, casual conversation with some of my colleagues.  I had brought my lunch to a meeting and the discussion turned to cooking in general, cooking for families in particular.  I was the only person with children of my own, the others being considerably younger than myself, but each of us had something to say about our experiences with family meals.  I mentioned that, while my children were growing up, I made family dinners an every-night thing. As the children got older, had more activities and eventually were able to drive themselves around, attendance was not always one hundred percent.  But, at the proscribed time, dinner was on the table for whomever was home.

One of my colleagues mentioned that her mom didn’t know how to cook, so they ate out every dinner, or brought in food from somewhere else.  This led us to discuss what, exactly, constitutes a “family dinner.”  Did it have to be homemade?  Did it have to be at home?  Did it have to be dinner?  I was struck by the guilt the other felt that they didn’t engage in this daily ritual with their families.  They judged their parents for not making it a priority.  I, in turn, began to feel self-conscious.  I am not one to hold everyone to some random standard that fits me and in fact, I try to look deeper in these types of discussions.  Did each of their families make some sort of regular interaction happen?  Could they look differently at their family’s process and see what they did to maintain connection?  For my family, dinner was the available time, but for other families it may have been something else.

The discussion revealed to me the complex and intense relationship between families and food.  Not a groundbreaking thing, for sure.  But scratch the surface and you’ll find that even in today’s modern world where things move at lightning speed and dinner can be obtained with the click of a mouse, by opening an app or by a meal delivery program, there remains a longing for people in the same household to spend time together.  For most of us food is comfort and the comfort of eating with those we love, in our familiar surroundings, makes us feel safer and less alone in the world.

In these turbulent times, we all long for a way to make sense of things.  At the end of the day I still feel comforted by going to the fridge, taking out the fixings for a home cooked meal and beginning the preparations while my husband pours a glass of wine and we share our day.  When my children come home for visits, they ask for their favorite meals and we cook together, catching up and remembering what always brings us back together.

If you have a memory or story to share about your “family dinner,” please share.  I’m working on a collection of stories on this subject and would love to connect with you.  Leave a comment here, or email me at barbaradabpr@gmail.com  Bon apetit!

Bonus points if you can identify the family in the featured photo!

P.S.  Here’s one last picture from my Summer Garden.  Sweet Potatoes!  Just dug from the ground, ready to dry and store for Sweet Potato pie for Thanksgiving!

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About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

Like what you’ve read? Feel free to share, but please… Give HerSavvy credit. Thanks!

 

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Hanukah: Lights in the Darkness

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Hanukah begins in a week and this time of year I am always asked the same questions. “Do you also celebrate Christmas?” “Hanukah is the Jewish Christmas, right?” “So what is Hanukah about anyway?” “Do you also have a Christmas tree?” The list goes on. For the most part I’m always happy to share my traditions and practices and to educate folks about my tradition. So for the record, we do not celebrate Christmas, we don’t have a tree and Hanukah is not “Jewish” Christmas. In fact, Hanukah is a relatively minor festival that has little theological, religious significance. Hanukah celebrates both a military and a political victory.

The story takes place during the first century after the second Temple in Jerusalem was seized by the Greeks and desecrated, following which Judaism was outlawed. A small but mighty band of Jews, led by Judah HaMacabee (Judah the Hammer), liberated the Temple and cleansed it for rededication. In order to light the holy Menorah (candelabra) in the Temple, pure olive oil was required. The story goes that there was only enough oil found to last for one day, but it burned for eight while a new supply of fresh oil was prepared. And today, we commemorate what is considered a miracle by lighting our own menorahs one candle at a time for eight nights, each night adding a candle until the final, glorious night when the menorah is fully illuminated.

Because Hanukah is not a biblical holiday, the traditions and observances around it are varied. In Israel, the menorah is lit each night, foods fried in oil are eaten (think potato latkes and jelly donutes) and the traditional gift of money, or gelt in Yiddush, is exchanged. In America, families often add the giving of more secular gifts as the timing coincides of that higher profile, flashier holiday that happens to fall around the same time. You get what I’m talking about. And when my kids were young, we followed that practice. After all, we wanted them to enjoy being Jewish, to fit in with the greater culture and frankly, it was fun. As they grew older, we focused our Hanukah observance on socializing with friends, singing songs, and the gift giving has taken a back seat. To be honest, many American Jewish parents struggle with the annual “Hanukah dilemma.” How to help our kids appreciate and embrace their Jewish identity and not feel left out of the juggernaut that is Christmas. It isn’t easy.

For me the symbolism and imagery around Hanukah is rich and meaningful. I picture Judah and his warrior Macabees finding the Temple in ruins, remnants of their faith strewn about, in tatters. I can imagine the feeling of triumph and elation of victory as they reclaim what is theirs. I see them in the dimming light of the menorah frantically praying the oil lasts long enough for them to complete their work of cleansing and rededicating the Temple. And finally, the miracle occurs as the oil keeps on burning and the Macabees rejoice.

But there’s more. Hanukah usually occurs in December, the darkest of months. And yet, it is also called “The Festival of Lights.” We Jews have faced some very dark times in our history; destructions of our holy ancient Temples, the Spanish Inquisition, pogroms in Eastern Europe, the rise of Hitler and the Holocaust. These days increasing anti-Semitism both here in the U.S. and around the world have a lot of us feeling uneasy, wondering if another Holocaust could, in fact, happen. And of course, our people aren’t the only ones targeted by hate and bigotry. But during this darkest, coldest time of year we have only to remember the victory of the Macabees, and their small band of freedom fighters who kept the oil burning, for examples of bravery, perseverance and the will to survive. And there is nothing like the anticipation of watching the lights of the menorah grow, one night at a time, until that eighth beautiful night when all are lit. I think the most moving of all Hanukah traditions is the one that encourages us to display our menorahs in our front windows. It is as if the lights themselves burn defiantly and victoriously against all the generations of oppression and destruction to show the world that, even after the darkest of times, we are still here.

About Barbara Dab

Barbara Dab is a small business owner, journalist, broadcast radio personality, producer and award-winning public relations consultant.  She is the proud owner of Nashville Pilates Company, a boutique Pilates studio in Nashville’s Wedgewood/Houston neighborhood.  Check it out at  www.nashvillepilatescompany.com.  She is also the creator of The Peretz Project: Stories from the Shoah: Next Generation.  The Peretz Project, named for her late father-in-law who was a Holocaust survivor, is collecting testimony from children of survivors.  Visit http://www.theperetzproject.com.  If you are, or someone you know is, the child of survivors of the Shoah, The Holocaust, and you would like to tell your story please leave a comment and Barbara will contact you.

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A Christmas Truce

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December is a difficult time of year for many people.  December can be especially lonely for soldiers who are far from home.  In 1914, lonely soldiers caused one of the most extraordinary Christmas events.  They (briefly) stopped the First World War.

The impromptu ceasefire began on December 7, 1914, when Pope Benedict XV suggested a temporary ceasefire so that the soldiers in the trenches could celebrate Christmas.  The governments of Britain, France and Germany refused to observe an official ceasefire.

It’s not clear why they said no, but there were probably two main reasons for refusing a ceasefire.  First, no one was tired of the war.  In December 1914, the war was only about five months old.  The major slaughters, like the Battle of the Somme when a million men were casualties, didn’t happen until 1916.

Second, and I think more importantly, the governments opposed a ceasefire out of fear.  Specifically, fear of fraternization.  Soldiers are better able to do their job of killing the enemy if they don’t know their enemy.  It’s why we demonize our opponents as a faceless “other” and use derogatory nicknames to dehumanize them.  If a soldier sees the enemy as human with a family and personal aspirations, it becomes difficult to shoot to kill.

Consider the line “from a distance, you look like my friend, even though we are at war.”  It’s taken from an anti-war song called “From a Distance.”  The song became popular during the First Persian Gulf War in the early 1990’s and it evokes a universal sentiment.

In 1914, the soldiers in the trenches ignored their governments and saw the enemy as a friend.  On Christmas Eve, they sang Christmas carols to each other across no-man’s land.  On Christmas Day, they crossed no-man’s land to exchange food and talk of their families back home.  In one instance, they played a game of football (i.e., soccer).

After Christmas, some of the soldiers decided they couldn’t return to war.  One anecdote says that some French and German soldiers refused to fight each other.  Their commanders threatened them with all sorts of disciplinary action to no avail.  Eventually, the affected French and German units were pulled out of their trenches and sent to fight in other sectors.

The Christmas Truce of 1914 has never been repeated.  As wars continue around the world, that is one of the saddest commentaries on this holiday season.

About Norma Shirk

Norma started her company, Corporate Compliance Risk Advisor, to help employers create human resources policies for their employees and employee benefit programs that are appropriate to the employer’s size and budget. The goal is to have structure without bureaucracy. Visit Norma’s website: www.complianceriskadvisor.com/.

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The Other Side of the Couch – Happy Holidays?

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I am sitting here this morning, Thanksgiving morning, and musing on the holiday expectations that we all bring to these times.  The picture of the Norman Rockwell family, gathered around the laden table, faces smiling in anticipation of the feast to come, is engrained in our collective psyche.  Magazines over the last month have been filled with recipes for “The Most Sumptuous, Easiest Thanksgiving Feast Ever.”  Methods for creating the perfect table setting, the perfect appetizer, the perfect pumpkin pie, abound.

I am one of the fortunate ones in that I do have a loving family and a family table to prepare.  Although I am not hosting the feast this year, I will be part of one.  And yet, I know all too well that these holidays often bring not joy, but turmoil and sadness to many.

So today, I am writing for those whose holidays are not filled with joy, whose family tables are filled with strife or silence or fear, who wait for the explosion, or the blows, or the criticism.  And for those who have no table, and who will go hungry, not only on this day, but on many others.  And for those who have no home, no place of warmth, no place to lay a weary head.  I am writing for the children who will be passed back and forth by acrimonious and angry parents, divorced, unconsciously still taking out their wars on their hapless children.  I am writing for the lonely ones, who will spend this day taking care of themselves the only way they know how…maybe by drinking too much, or eating too much.

I don’t have good answers for you.  These holidays are hard, and that is the truth.  In a culture filled with so much abundance, to be both physically and emotionally without resources is a hard blow to take.

So, rather than give you advice, I will tell you a story.

I was at my church’s regular Wednesday night dinner, and it happened to be the Thanksgiving celebration.  This was one of the coldest nights of the year in Nashville so far, going down into the teens, and because of this, our church had added extra nights of Room in the Inn.  The Room in the Inn guests came to the church dinner that night.  As it happened, part of the program was a presentation of a recent mission trip taken by adults from the church to a program in Guatemala that serves children and their families.

After the program, one of the Room in the Inn guests approached our senior minister, and handed him six dollars, requesting that this money go to help the children in the program he had just seen.  This man, homeless and down on his luck, gave the little he had to help a child who had less.

I happened to be standing next to them when this exchange happened, and I saw his face.  He was filled with emotion, and he was proud to be able to do something.  He regained some sense of himself as a man, a giver rather than a taker, in that exchange.

When we are in circumstances that we cannot control, when we are stuck in some situation that seems beyond help, sometimes we have to go outside a logical response.  That man knew that, for tonight, he had food, and a warm place to sleep, and would have breakfast in the morning.  He gave out of his abundance to someone who had less.  I am guessing that gesture changed his sense of himself.  Maybe there is a way we can think outside our boxes, too.

May your holidays be filled with compassion and awareness.

About Susan Hammonds-White, EdD, LPC/MHSP:

Susan is a communications and relationship specialist, counselor, Imago Relationship Therapist, businesswoman, mother, and proud native Nashvillian. She has been in private practice for over 30 years. As she says, “I have the privilege of helping to mend broken hearts.”

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Holidays for Savvy Cooks

Basket of Fruit and Pumpkin PieMy favorite holiday time of year is Thanksgiving.  It was Mom’s as well. “It’s all about the food,” Aunt Kathy pointedly told my mom with a grin, as they discussed an upcoming trip and Mom plotted their vacation by the restaurants they would dine in along the way.  Lella Mai (mom) certainly enjoyed good food, cooking and loving people with her creations from the kitchen.  My cousins loved Aunt Mai’s sweet tea, potato salad, corn bread dressing and chocolate confections.  From her “doctored up” Mississippi Mud Cake to her truffles and other deliciousness, desserts were top of mind.  Her first love, pound cake, was a constant entertainment as she tried many recipes.  I have found the same enjoyment in my own kitchen, especially creating new recipes, or tweaking others’ recipes to make them my own.

Mom was not one of those who kept secrets about her ingredients.  She would share recipes readily and was honored when people asked her for one.  She definitely had command of the kitchen.  Of course, everything else was under her leadership as well, but that’s another story.

The following salad is a recent discovery, and its simplicity makes it an easy addition to any meal.  Mom probably would not have liked this one because she never tasted arugula, to my knowledge, and she became fairly picky.  I can see her “would be” reaction to it now, a crinkled up nose in disapproval of the strong flavor.  It makes me laugh.  I do miss her.  She could make some awful faces.

This recipe serves 16-20 as an accompaniment and leftovers the next day are delicious.  Lemon is the standout and makes for a nice break on the palate between the savory goodness of turkey and dressing and that sweet potato casserole with the brown sugared crunchy topping.

Lemon Arugula Salad

  • 3 containers of arugula, organic if you can get it
  • 6 ounces thin sliced prosciutto di Parma, torn into small pieces
  • ½ cup of large shredded Parmigiano-Reggiano (use a large bit grater)

Dressing:

  • Juice of 2 lemons
  • 1/3 to ½ cup of good olive oil
  • Salt
  • Pepper

Mix the liquids and pour over the salad.  Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Toss well and serve.  Refrigerate leftovers.

Gathering family, cooking, eating, laughing and of course, expressing thanks, are all on the plan.  A nice walk in the woods, breathing in the crisp, cool air and walking off some of that deliciousness will be on the plan as well.

Happy Thanksgiving.

About Renee Bates

Renee is the executive director of the non-profit, Greenways for Nashville, a member based organization. In addition to growing private support for the trails and green spaces, she enjoys oil painting, hiking, nature and working in the garden. Renee is married to David Bates of Bates Nursery and Garden Center, a 3rd generation business begun in 1932 by a savvy woman, Bessie Bates.

Like what you’ve read? Feel free to share, but please… Give HerSavvy credit. Thanks!

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