Yesterday my husband and I attended a Chaldean wedding. This was our fourth one. Now, how did we get invited to so many Chaldean weddings you ask?
Weeellllll, there is this great Middle Eastern restaurant, here, in Windsor, called Windsor Palace and it is owned by a wonderful Chaldean family who escaped from Iraq several years ago. It's on Wyandotte Street, smack-dab in the middle of our Middle Eastern section of town. I swear it has the best Middle Eastern food around. Windsor is actually quite lucky in one aspect - we not only have a Middle Eastern section in town, we have an Italian, Indian, and an Oriental section. This does not include the other thirty some odd foreign food restaurants that are scattered throughout our fair city. Windsor has 107 different ethnicities.
We have been going to Windsor Palace for years. In fact, Rennie, the oldest boy, was just nineteen when we met him. Then comes his sister Ranna, then Raymon, Rony, and the youngest, Rutie.
Will and I have had many lively discussions with these fine, young, adults over the years. We have discussed the Iraqi war, Saddam Hussein, President Bush, Israel...you name it, we've discussed it.
However, the most interesting of those topics was always when we compared our customs and our two languages. I found it very interesting that the Chaldeans and Jews got along very well before the Jews were expelled from Iraq. And after comparing, it was obvious why we did. It was fun discovering just how much we have in common! Our friendships deepened over the years and I adore all of them.
Rennie married six years ago to a stunningly beautiful girl named Lydia. That was our first Chaldean wedding. We had a fabulous time! So, as the children get older, it has been our very great honour and privilege to attend four weddings. Sad to say, there is only one more to go.
The big community dance is very similar to the Hora, except there is a lot of shoulder lifting in rhythm with the music. There was a difference - whereas our Hora is a bit more exuberant, their dance lasts ever so much longer. Like forty-five minutes long for one dance! People hold up cloth triangles that have metal circles on them, and then they shake them vigorously while they dance. I love every minute of it!!! I'm even getting marginally good at ululating.
The food is aromatic, astounding, and abundant; the cakes are massive and lavishly decorated. Every woman there wears a beautiful ball gown, each one more beautiful than the next. And the detail to decorations make the reception settings magical.
All of the kids can hardly wait for one of my children to get married so that they can see a Jewish wedding.
They'll see one all right. It's just gonna be a long while before any of my kids decide to marry.
Siiiiigh.

For those of you who do not know it, My son, Ben the pianist, and I started a concert/brunch series last January, at my dear friend's restaurant - Mazal Tov Cuisine. Mazal Rabi has created delectable delights for years at this restaurant. She truly is one of Windsor's best kept secrets. Her brisket is by far the best I've had. But it's her Israeli salads that I go gaga over! Her desserts are sinful. And she's kosher.
The idea for this concert series began last Hannukah at our annual Hannukah party. We've had this party for 28 years now. I have one rule for my guests: I'll prepare the food, you prepare to entertain - sing, dance, play music, tell jokes - whatever, but you must perform. And oh! how my guests have performed!!!!!! It helps to have professional singers and musicians as friends.
Every year we hear the same conversations...there is no place in Windsor where singers etc. can perform and try out new songs on an audience. This year, while eating at Mazal's, I had an epiphany. Have concerts at the restaurant. Mazal loved the idea.
Our first concert was in January. "PIANO, PZAZZ, WITH A LITTLE JAZZ ON THE SIDE." It was a huge success, so in February we had BRUNCH WITH THE BARD AND OTHER ROMANTIC NOTIONS. Another hit.
March was OMELETTES AND OPERA, OY VEZ! with Canada's leading bass/baritone, Steven Henrikson.
April - SPRING IS SPRUNG, and May - TRA LA, THE LUSTY MONTH OF MAY.
This month's concert is JUNE-OUR TRIBUTE TO BROADWAY AND THE TONYS.
It's going to be a lot of fun, as always, and Mazal presents a feast. And I am inviting everyone to come. The cost is 25 dollars all inclusive. Space is limited to 100 people so call now to book your table. 519 252 0221 or 519 730 0315.
Mazal Tov's is located at 1653 Ouellette Avenue, right next to the Jewish Community Centre.
Be there or be square!

Friday, June 20th....what a dismal and awful day! Actually, when I think about it, the entire month of June has been extraordinary in its awfulness. Don't misunderstand, my family and I are fine. It's everything around us. Like yesterday at the radio show. On the air for five minutes and all of a sudden I can't get the microphone to turn on! Listeners heard a Jazz Quartet for twenty minutes while I tried to fix whatever the problem was. Being technically challenged, this was a nightmare.
Finally got the microphone to work. Just then Ilan walks in, trips, and spills coffee all over the c/ds I had lined up, my notes, AND posters for the 6th Concert/Brunch that is happening at Mazal Tov Restauraunt on June 28th. All of them ruined!
For a while that seemed to be all that was going wrong. Then, in the middle of an interview with Professor Gil Troy, specialist in American Politics, after I had just finished asking him just how bad Obama has been so far, everything went black. With a bang. It's very, very dark in CJAM when the lights go out. Very dark. And scary.
It seems there was a fire at Vanier Hall that blew out the generators.
Never did get back on air for my show.
I thought today would be better. UPS actually called to tell me when they arriving with a package. That was thoughtful.
There were thunderstorms in the morning, but it cleared up enough for me to get my swimming and water exercises completed. That was good.
Had breakfast, let the dogs out, made a cup of tea, then sat at the computer to write the next act of a play I am writing. I suddenly realized that it was very quiet in my backyard and the dogs were no where in sight.
I rushed out in a panic, fearing that one of the gates had been left open. But, no, that wasn't the case. My two lovely, sweet, gentle boys had discovered a bunnie, chased it down and killed it, and were now resting under a tree in the backyard EATING it! Their faces were covered in bunnie fur and blood.
I was hysterical. "I used to be the head of the Bunnie Brigade at a wildlife sanctuary for crying out loud," I screamed at Max, my Shepherd/Collie mix. He slunk away as I continued. "Bunnies are sweet!" I ranted.
Then I saw my vegetable garden...that sweet bunnie had eaten all of the leaves off of my fig tree and squash plants.
"Job well done boys," I said as I gave them each a bath. "Just don't do it again."
Never did get back to writing my play.

I have an absolutely adorable nephew named Nathan and we just returned from Toronto, Ontario, where we attended his Bar Mitzvah. Now, I hate to admit this, but I am one of those people who simply does not enjoy these kinds of events.
Don't get me wrong. I'm thrilled when someone wants to give me the gory details of planning her wedding. I'll listen with rapt attention for hours to hear how she debated over roses or calla lillies for her bouquet. I'll go shopping at party stores with distressed mothers of the Bnai Mitvot crowd and help them pick out give-away toys and give it the same meticulous attention that I would use while choosing the Crown Jewels for the Queen.
Need help slogging through invitation books, trying to find the perfect one? I'm your gal!
In fact, I have planned so many events I can practically do it in my sleep. I know all of the local venues and caterers for special events; which florists are the most creative- the cheapest and the most expensive; I know the photographers, the bands and DJs; I know who makes hand painted chuppahs.
But when it comes to actually attending the event? Nah. Not so much. I'd rather stay home, thank you very much.
My husband still marvels how everyone at our synagogue stressed for weeks regarding the plans for our rabbi's tenth anniversary with us. Will was president of our shul at the time. One night, six weeks before the event, he returned from a Board of Director's meeting distraught.
"No one bothered to form a committee for the tenth anniversary and now they say it's too late to plan the gala. The rabbi is going to be so hurt."
"But you have six weeks," I said.
"They say it's impossible, I tell you," he replied.
I sighed. People make such a big tzimmes for nothing.
"Look," I said, "If you want this gala to go off without a hitch I'll do it for you. What's the budget?"
"Five hundred dollars."
I stared at him as if he had become the pope. "For how many people?"
"At least two hundred."
"Wow," I muttered. Now I could even see the Papal red skull cap on his head. Five hundred dollars for a gala event for 200 people. The man needed a miracle.....or a change in the event.
"Give me 24 hours," I said with a smile.
By three PM I had hired a caterer, came up with a menu of BBQ hamburgers and hotdogs with potato salad, cajoled my son, the pianist, to play for free, convinced my daughter, a triple threat actress, to sing for free, contacted the congregation for old pictures of the rabbi for a memory wall, and had even ordered flowers.
I'm no magician, and I'm not tooting my horn. This took literally three phone calls and a brief talk with my kids. And a promise to take them to the movies. I decided to be the main photographer. I'm good at photography. But I asked several other members to take photos as well. Just in case I screwed up.
I changed the 'Gala' into a country jamboree, with sunflowers and haystacks as decor. Our rabbi is from California and plays guitar. It seemed to fit.
Bottom line - everyone had a blast and I was 24 dollars over budget.
So, with this kind of background for party-planning I sat in the car as we drove to Toronto and wondered why I hated attending these events so much.
And then it hit me.
It's because I'm such a sentimental slob. I blubber and wail at every single gathering! The father gets tearful while giving his speech about how great his kid is and I'm balling my eyes out, sniffling and snorting and blowing my nose and sounding like a snuffle-up-a-gus on a bad day. It's so embarrassing!
Can I help it? No! Not in the least. And it's getting worse as time goes by.
Somewhere down the road, some sadistic idiot decided that a video of the Bar/Bat Mitzvah child's life and family should not only be shown, it must oh absolutely MUST be accompanied by the hokiest music ever created. For example: The Wind Beneath my Wings. Oh Help Me! Forget Kleenex, I need an entire case of tissue boxes to get through one of those videos. And they go on forever.
There is no mercy for us sentimental slobs.
So, imagine my distress when there was a very strict rule made for my nephew's Bar Mitzvah, and it came from Nathan, the Bar Mitzvah boy, himself. No tears.
Was he kidding?
Now, to be fair, I understood where he was coming from. His grandmother is the queen of tears. She cries at commercials even! And cartoons. The grandkids laugh with embarrassment when she cries and they often tease her. It isn't even a family joke. The entire Jewish community knows about her penchant for tears.
So there I am on Saturday night, watching the hokiest of hokey videos about my nephew, breaking out in a cold sweat, gritting my teeth, trying so hard not to cry when Bette Midler sang 'The Wind Beneath my Wings.'
I glanced at my mother-in-law. She bit her lips, but she did not shed a tear. She even got up and gave a speech without crying. Dang!
After the video and speeches I sighed with relief and gulped down a glass of wine. I'd survived without a single tear being shed. Then Will's cousin Maurie came over.
"Maurie," laughed my husband. "You're worse than my mother. You've been crying for nearly an hour."
"I can't help it," she wailed. "Now that I'm older and I'm going to be a Bubbie, I cry at everything. Where has the time gone?"
That was it. I burst into tears. "I know exactly what you mean," I sobbed as we clung to each other. "It's unbearable to see them so grown."
Maurie's sister, Bev, joined us and we stood in the middle of the dance floor hugging and crying. "We'll never wait so long to see each other again," cried Bev.
"Time's so short," hiccoughed Maurie. "No more another day. There might not be one!"
"Oh brother," muttered William and walked away.
As we clung to each other, crying, we looked around the room at all of the elderly women staring at us and nodding their heads. The three of us had just passed over that line of sane, seemingly cold-hearted women into the ranks of blubbering bubbies.
It's not a good feeling.
I've decided that Kleenex might be a really good stock to own. And I'm cringing. I've got a wedding to attend next month.

On June the third my husband William and I will celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary. I cannot believe it! The time has gone by in a blink. Whoever knew this simple, uncomplicated girl from Edward Street would marry a Jewish man, who became a highly respected lawyer? Definitely not me.
My husband likes to joke and say that I've stuck with him because I never know when another good year is going to show up. "Year three and seven were good," he says with an adorably silly grin on his face. Actually, I always thought year fifteen was one of the better ones.
So, the big question became, "What should we do for our anniversary, honey?"
Me, I'm not into big celebrations for birthdays and anniversaries. I've been known to miss many. However, I did contemplate renewing our vows. After all, the dishtowels and linens are all worn out, the china has chips and cracks and no one plate matches another - we have had three kids, two of them boys who have rambunctious friends. Plates and glasses break on a regular basis, and spoons magically disappear. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided I just wasn't that into the idea of planning another wedding.
William decided we should have a second honeymoon. Something special - California.
"Of all the places in the world," I said, "California is NOT on my top ten list. It's not even on my top 1,000 list! They have earthquakes for crying out loud. I have trouble balancing at the best of times."
William sniffed indignantly at my protestation. "It's beautiful there and you'll love it."
"I'd rather get a new deck for the backyard," I groused.
"Nope, we're leaving on Tuesday. Get packing."
"Tuesday?" I cried. "Six days from now? I just can't up and leave! I have a radio show to prepare for and a million appointments -"
"Sorry, we're booked. Pack."
Well! That was that. On April 29th I found myself sitting in an airplane, heading for sunny California and with way too many outfits and shoes packed. As usual.
We landed in San Francisco and rented a Ford Edge.....nice car! Then we headed down Highway One south to Carmel. The scenery was beautiful but I was still panic-stricken about those gosh darn earthquakes and couldn't really appreciate its true beauty.
However, Carmel would not allow me to miss it. Every little corner of that town clamoured for my attention. Cliched words like charming, quaint, lovely came to mind.
We spent five days in the Carmel region; going down the famous 17 mile road to Pebble Beach, driving to Monterey and Cannery Row and the aquarium; visiting John Steinbeck's house and the Museum they have in his home town, Salinas. That was inspiring.
Then on the only rainy day we had, we drove south to Big Sur and Hearst castle.
Sequoia National Park and the King's canyon took my breath away. No, no, it really took my breath away. We were 8500 feet in the air, in the Sierra Nevadas. Lack of oxygen. Nonetheless, I loved Sequoia National Park and the Forest of the Giants. Being surrounded by trees that are nearly forty feet wide and tower over 600 feet into the sky is a very humbling experience. It was a strange sensation but I felt as if I were amongst very dear old friends. I found it incredibly difficult to leave them behind. And the bear. Did I mention the bear whose path we crossed?
We went to Napa Valley and had a blast on Cinqo de Maio day. Met some lovely birds in Bodega Bay, crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge and explored San Francisco. A very hilly San Francisco. My little town of Windsor is flat as a pancake. I'm impressed with myself when I do a 4 degree trek on the treadmill. Carmel's streets were six and eight degree slants and that was hard. But San Francisco had them all beat - 45 degree slants, even bigger than that. And being with William, we walked everywhere. We even walked UP the famous Lombard Street.
All in all it was a fabulous trip...and no earthquakes! I didn't necessarily leave my heart in San Francisco, but I certainly left some of it in Carmel and Monterey. And a lot of my heart is with those giants, the Sequioas. California is a wonderful and beautiful place to go for a second honeymoon!

Here we are folks and winter is behind us. Finally. The temperature is still in the thirties, but at least we do not have two feet of snow on the ground. Yeah. And every now and again we can see the sun. I love you sun!
Winter is never a good season for me. It starts in November when absolutely everything is gray. Within the first week of grayness my good mood plummets down through my toes.
This season was particularly bad. I can't recall so many darkened days for so long. I do remember the cold and snow though. Walking home from grade school with my friend, Harvey Kessler, in the bitter cold was always difficult. No one cleaned their sidewalks so we had deep snow to trudge through. When you are ten and twelve those walks are looooooong. Fingers and toes were numb from the cold. We didn't have nice fur lined boots the way the kids do now. We had rubber galoshes with two pairs of socks that our mothers bought three sizes too big so they would last at least two or three years. Simple woolen mittens that were useless, especially if you threw snowballs at your friends, were all that we had.
I remember the first time anyone wore ski mittens to school. Were we impressed! Then one of us was brave enough to admit that she didn't know what skiing was.
No wonder us kids from Windsor were depressed in winter!
Doctors have a spanking new name for this winter depression; they call it seasonal affective disorder.
Here's my question. If it's a disorder then why do most of the people I know have it? Can 99.9% of the population actually have the same disorder? No one seems to know the answers.
All I know is that my energy level is slowly rising. I actually smile once in a while again instead of snarling at everyone. Not a 100%, that's for sure, but at least I can actually write again. Spring is coming!
I just wish it would get here a lot faster.

"All Jews will die." "Look out for your children, we're gonna kill all the f***in' Jew children." "You Jews need a big oven, man." "We're gonna finish what Hitler started."
Sweet, huh? At every pro-Palestinian demonstration/rally/riot around the world these were the slogans being shouted out. Especially in Toronto and Fort Lauderdale! And people smiled when they shouted them.
Did you know that in the weeks heading into this war between Israel and Hamas (and let this be a very clear point, it is a war between Israel and the treacherously evil Hamas, not Palestinians and Israelis)Hamas went into a wedding reception in the Gaza area, pulled out rifles and slaughtered over thirty wedding attendees? They then murdered the groom by bashing his head in. Why? They dared to play music and dance at their wedding. That's the crime. Music and dancing. You see, Hamas and their fanatic ilk do not allow such simple pleasures and they murder anyone who likes them.
Did you also know in that same time frame they gathered up over a hundred Palestinians that voted for the other guy, led them to a public square and shot them dead, in front of everyone including children on their way to school. Every last one of them dead. No trial, no chance to defend themselves. They voted for Fatah - guilty. That's the Hamas idea of a democratic election. You vote for the other guy and you die. I can only imagine what kind of threats took place before that supposed democratic election, that Rice was so proud of, three years ago. No wonder Hamas won!
How do I know about these murders? One very brave Palestinian filmed these occasions while they took place and somehow, managed to get the film out of Gaza. You can see the film on Youtube. I think it is called The beauty of Gaza, the ugliness of Israel. That man, whoever he may be, is my personal hero. I pray every day that he wasn't found out and murdered by Hamas.
When I listen to the incredibly gullible Left-Wingers, who believe every single piece of Hamas and Palestinian propaganda out there, condemn Israel and call for its destruction etc. I can't help but wonder if they are from the same planet that I'm living on. Do they truly not see through the Hamas BS? Like the pictures where Hamas government was supposedly meeting in the dark because Israel had 'cut off' the power on the strip. When you looked to the right you noticed the curtains were drawn and daylight shone through the cracks. It was staged. They also failed to mention that the reason power had been 'cut off' was because one of their rockets had destroyed part of the power plant. They also failed to mention that power went on as soon as the plant was fixed. Nor did they mention that Israel only supplies a portion of the Gazan power. Hamas controls the rest.
A Holocaust survivor once told me that Jews will forever be the world's scapegoat because God has chosen us to be so. "We are the canary in the mine, Dollie," she said. "God can see how the world's soul is doing by the way the people treat Jews."
From the hatred spewing out against Israel and Jews right now, I guess it's safe to surmise that the world's soul is in a terrible way.

We live in Canada, a socialistic kind of democracy. As citizens of this great country, that turned 100 in 1967, what do we cherish the most? Freedom? The right to live safely?
What if the people on the borders of our democratic country were suddenly bombed 40 and 50 and 60 times a day by Islamic terrorists? That's four times an hour when we would hear a siren and then have 15 seconds to find shelter before a kassem or bomb would fall on us. Because of this horrible situation 100% of our children in these border towns suffer from Post Traumatic Stress syndrome. It's a disease they will never fully recover from. What would we want our Prime Minister of Canada to do? Protect us? How would he do that? Stop the bombs? It's a tricky situation for him he tells us. After all, if we target Islamic terrorists we are profiling and we wouldn't want to be known as a country that profiles and causes prejudice.
What if these same border people had been bombed nearly everyday for seven years? Would you think they had the right to be angry at our government for doing nothing to stop the bombing, simply because other countries have threatened repercussions and we'd be accused of profiling? What about our right to live in safety? Which of those is more important?
Now, after these seven years, other enemy countries sneaked in bigger bombs and rockets and over 700,000 Canadians are in danger of being annihilated. Especially in Toronto and Montreal. What then?
Well. The answer is simple when we look at the situation like this, isn't it? We expect our country to call up our armed forces and hunt out those terrorists who are bombing and killing us and destroy them so that they never can bomb us again. Seven hundred thousand peoples' lives are being threatened. Surely, we have a right to defend ourselves! After all, we only have 30 million citizens. Losing almost a million of them to terrorists seems harsh, especially if we as a country have the power and wherewithal to stop them. The primary responsibility of a democratic government is to keep it citizens safe from harm and threats. Israel only has seven million citizens, more than a million of which are Arabic.
But here's the kicker in our little scenario. Other countries take glee in blaming Canada for the tension and bombs even though we have done nothing wrong. They say we kicked out the aboriginal people from their homes and murdered them when we created our country, Canada. We Canadians should be abolished and driven into the sea. What would we expect our Canadian government to do? Ignore those countries and follow through on the responsibility to keep us safe?
Of course we would! We're not nuts and neither are we masochistic! Neither is Israel.
I am amazed that the world just expected Israel to take this Hamas crap on the chin all this time, without retaliating. This retaliation should have happened years ago!
I am amazed that the world is still condemning Israel, saying the retaliation is disproportionate. Really? If this were so then there would be no more bombs crossing into Israel. Instead we find that they are increasing and now Tel Aviv and Be'er Sheba are in range.
Hamas wants Israel annihilated, not because of the plight of the Palestinian people, but because Israel is the only non-Muslim, democratic society in the Middle East. It's a craw in the claw of the Muslim regimes. When you look on a world map, all you see is millions of miles of Muslim territory save for about six hundred miles - Israel.
It has been irrefutably proven that Jews have existed in the Israeli land of Judea and Samaria and Jerusalem for thousands of years. Our most sacred temple sits underneath the Muslim Dome of the Rock.
In spite of what historical revisionist Islamic fascists and Left-wingers of the world say, in spite of what frightened European countries may say, Jews have a right to live in their land in peace and they have a right to feel safe. And the Israeli government's first responsibility is to ensure that all of her citizens do feel safe. That's a basic tenet.
If Hamas cannot be convinced of this simple truth then so be it. Israel must destroy it.
And if she fails? May Hashem help us all.

Did you ever have one of those friends who is so incredibly talented, but is only mildly aware of the enormity of that talent? I have one. His name is Alexander Mishnaevski. He has been the principle violist with the Detroit Symphony for years. Sasha, as his friends call him and I am blessed to be able to do so, was born in Russia. His parents 'forced' him to take violin, but before too long he became passionate about the instrument, even before his teen years. Something that rarely happens. His family moved to the United States and Sasha, of course, went to Julliard and eventually switched to the viola. He trained with the best - virtuosos such as Isaac Stern became his mentors. People like Nigel Kennedy and Pinchas Zukerman are his friends. With incredibly diligent hard work Sasha has become one of the great violists of our time. Truly. I've been told by his fellow musicians that he is ranked as one of the very best in the world.
To hear the man play leaves no doubt in your mind that this is so. I've had many good fortunes to hear him. One of his most poignant performances was the Humming Chorus, from the Opera, Madama Butterfly. Sasha played this with the DSO. The emotion coming from Sasha's viola could be felt by everyone in the auditorium. One immediately felt the quiet hope of the young girl waiting for her soldier to return. The song was all the more haunting if you knew her soldier was arriving in the morning only to break the girl's heart. Sasha knew this as he played and all of that heartache was there. I cried as did almost everyone there. As the song came to an end, the lights on the stage went out one by one until only the light over Sasha's music stand was lit. Everyone jumped to their feet and cheered when it was over as only they should have. We had just been privileged to be allowed into the heart and soul of a great virtuoso.
Sasha holds a special place in my heart for many other reasons beside his incredible talent. His fondness for my children is a big one. When my daughter, Miriam, was a young child, Sasha always took time out of his busy schedule and called her on her birthday to wish her well. If he was out of town he played her Happy Birthday on his viola. One time he was practising with Pinchas Zukerman, and on that particular birthday, Miriam heard a beautiful duet.
Miriam was lucky enough to be chosen as one of the children in Iacob Lascu's Nutcracker Ballet. The orchestra was the DSO. What a thrill for a little girl on stage to have such a good friend in the orchestra pit. If she became nervous at all, she just looked at Sasha who would wink at her and smile. You could always tell when this happened because Miriam's face would light up like the Christmas tree that was onstage.
Now that my kids are older, Sasha has taken on another role. He has become a mentor for my son Ben, the pianist. They spend hours together discussing music. Sasha has taken Ben out for lunch numerous times. Naturally, Ben adores him for it.
Tonight my family and I were lucky enough to witness a world premier for Sasha with the Windsor Symphony Orchestra. A concert written just for him by Brent Lee, called Rock and Rill. It's a concert for an electronic viola. Once again, I was blown away by the skill and passion this man exudes while playing the viola. What an honour. I only hope he will record it for the rest of the world to hear. Any kind of c/d would be a thrill.
Now, don't get me wrong. The man is not a saint. He does have flaws. Yes, he has rugged good looks that's right up there with the sexy men from Hollywood, and he can be very irritating. But any flaw you think he might possess disappears when you hear him play his viola. There are no flaws there, only perfection.
And he only thinks he's 'okay' at it. Sheesh!

I've always been told that Jews do not celebrate Thanksgiving which I questioned. Jews have been in North America since the 16oo's and Thanksgiving didn't start until the 1700's. Why wouldn't they participate? According to Rabbi Angel they did. Here's his article. And for all of my American friends, Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving Day

*by Rabbi Marc D. Angel

President George Washington proclaimed Thursday November 26, 1789 as a day
of national thanksgiving to God "for His kind care and protection of the
people of this country previous to their becoming a nation; for the signal
and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of His providence in
the course and conclusion of the late war; for the great degreee of
tranquility, union, and plenty which we have since enjoyed; for the
peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish
constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly
the national one now lately instituted; for the civil and religious liberty
with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing
useful knowledge; and, in general, for all the great and various favors
which He has been pleased to confer upon us."

The Jewish communities in the United States of that time rejoiced in the
role they played in establishing this new country. Already in 1784, leaders
of Congregation Shearith Israel in New York City (founded 1654) had sent a
letter to Governor George Clinton on behalf of "the ancient congregation of
Israelites" in which they said: "Though the society we belong to is but
small, when compared with other religious societies, yet we flatter
ourselves that none has manifested a more zealous attachment to the sacred
cause of America in the late war with Great Britain....And we now look
forward with pleasure to the happy days we expect to enjoy under a
constitution wisely framed to preserve the inestimable blessings of civil
and religious liberty."

A new country was born, and the Jews had participated in its formation. They
were equal citizens in the United States. This was not true of Jews in any
country in Europe or in the Muslim world. American Jews were the first in
the history of the diaspora to be citizens on an equal footing with their
non-Jewish neighbors, and to have actually participated in fighting for the
independence of a new nation.

When President Washington called for a day of Thanksgiving, Jews observed
this day with joy and pride. At Shearith Israel in New York, the Rev.
Gershom Mendes Seixas arranged a suitable service of prayer, and delivered
an address in which he called upon Jews "to support that government which is
founded upon the strictest principles of equal liberty and justice."

In subsequent years, days of Thanksgiving were similarly celebrated at
Shearith Israel and the other early Jewish congregations. These days were
invariably proclaimed in the name of the American people, and were meant to
be observed by each citizen according to his or her own faith. In 1817, New
York State established an annual observance of Thanksgiving Day. Shearith
Israel held services on each subsequent year--except 1849 and 1854. In
those two years, the Governor of the State had addressed his proclamation
specifically to "a Christian people" instead of to Americans of all faiths.
Other than these two years, Thanksgiving has been proclaimed for all
Americans, each according to his and her own faith.

It is sometimes heard in Orthodox Jewish circles that Thanksgiving Day is a
"non-Jewish holiday" and should not be observed by religious Jews. This view
is historically wrong and morally dubious. Thanksgiving Day is a national
American holiday for all residents of the United States, of all religions.
Jews participated in Thanksgiving from the very beginning of the United
States' history. This national holiday belongs to Jews as to all other
Americans. It is altogether fitting that Jews join fellow Americans in
observing a day of Thanksgiving to the Almighty for all the blessings He has
bestowed upon this country. Jews, in particular, have much reason to thank
God for the opportunities and freedoms granted to us in the United States.

In his famous letter to the Jewish community of Newport in 1790, President
Washington wrote: "May the children of the stock of Abraham who dwell in
this land continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other
inhabitants--while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and fig
tree and there shall be none to make him afraid." These are words,
expressive of the American spirit at its best, for which we can be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving.