Page 50 - HaMizrachi Shavuot 5783 USA

ALIYAH DIARIES

More Madonna, Less Fungus

Kally Kislowicz

t’s hard to escape the news these days. eyes locked, and I realized what a fool I in Arabic. I pull up the Rebar menu on my
The country feels like it’s on fire, the was to imagine that the weather was all phone and am temporarily distracted by
left hates the right, the right hates the we had in common. While it might be a the myriad options and flavor adventures
Ileft, the religious and secular feel dia- stretch to say that we were rockin’ out by that await me. But minutes later we are
metrically opposed, and then there’s the the time we left the store, I can honestly still waiting. I catch the glance of the Arab
Arabs and the Jews… The headlines are say that we were singing together well mother, and we share a tired and frus-
filled with name-calling and incitement above a whisper and doing more than just trated moment.
and bad behavior. We are having trouble tapping our toes. Whatever our religious
being remotely civil, let alone finding beliefs and backgrounds, Madonna had My son asks if we could just leave the cor-
common ground. transcended our differences, bringing rect amount of cash next to the register
hope and understanding to the aptly and be on our way. I am contemplating
As an optimist, I take comfort in the belief named nut counter. this course of action when I notice the
that this country has seen challenging large, plastic anti-theft device stapled to
times before. We have been pulling our- Fast forward a week and I am at the mall
selves back from the brink and rising with one of my teenage sons as he is trying the jeans.
phoenix-like from the ashes since before I to buy a new pair of jeans. He has tried on
was born. That’s just how we roll. So when several pairs in a number of stores; boot Could we just gnaw that off, we wonder
together? I open my mouth and lift the
the situation gets me down, I think about cut, skinny, athletic fit, distressed, retro,
my recent encounters with “the other” skinny athletic retro, and other combina- device closer in a show of desperation.
and I take heart. tions. It’s been a long afternoon, and he The other mother sees me and laughs.
I don’t think we share a common lan-
Not long ago, I was waiting my turn in line has finally made a decision. All we have to guage, but I use international symbols
at the nut counter. As I juggled my bags of do is pay for our purchase and then there of eye-rolling and foot-stomping to say
pistachios and cashews, and commented will be nothing standing between me and “This is taking forever. Where exactly is
on the rainy weather to the bewigged, my I-survived-shopping-with-my-teen- this back room? My son better wear these
long-skirted woman behind me, I heard and-all-I got-was-this-delicious-Rebar. retro jeans until they actually come back
the unmistakable opening chords of We walk to the counter to pay, but alas, into fashion again to make this all worth
Madonna’s 1986 classic, Papa Don’t Preach. there is no store employee in sight. We it! And what do you think about me get-
I subconsciously started moving my feet flag down a worker, who explains that ting a dash of techina in my Rebar, will
and humming along to her plea for paren- he can’t operate the register, but he has the taste be overpowering?” She answers
tal understanding. As Madge and I geared called in his coworker from the back room back with expressive eyes, “Oh honey,
up for the chorus, I noticed that our duet and he should be with us shortly. there is no back room. We are standing
had suddenly become a trio. The Charedi here in perpetuity out of love for our sons.
woman behind me had started bobbing We wait, and are soon joined by a mother And we both know that those jeans will
her head and quietly singing along. Our and son who are speaking to each other get painted at a Bnei Akiva event and be

50 |