A Little Thanks to Rabbi Goodman
From the time I first met him in the Rutgers Student Center handing out menorahs for Chanukah for when I left Rutgers, Rabbi Baruch Goodman really helped me out quite a lot. I would like to give some thanks.
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Manhattan Transfer
Nearly a month ago, I moved into an apartment on the upper west side of Manhattan. For a number of years, I have had a sort of image in my mind, an ideal of what New York would be like to live in. Far from popping a bubble of fantasy, the reality of New York life has thus far been better than what I had hoped it would be.
The Move
It was supposed to be a warm day, partially cloudy, with a light breeze and a possible chance of some rain, at least according to the phone service I use which tells you weather according to zip code amongst other things. I’m not sure if it really rains more often when we don’t want it to rain or if we only notice it more often when it’s important not to rain… moving in, for example. When one has to bring a computer monitor into one’s new apartment, it doesn’t help when it is raining outside.
It was my uncle who helped my mother and me move my things into the apartment – he being the only one in the immediate family and friends circle with access to a van of some sort. Apparently we would be needing one because that’s just about how much stuff I had to take over on this, my inaugural trip to this apartment that I would be sharing. How I found the apartment is itself an interesting story – I had gone to a few apartments prior to the one I ended up in and nobody contacted me back. Finding apartment mates that match one in terms of observance and personality is almost like finding the person one will eventually marry except that one of course is just a bit more long term as it were.
The things were eventually all carried into the apartment and my mother and uncle left leaving just my roommate, Stanley. There was a street fair going on outside on Broadway (my room overlooks Broadway, the middle strip having many trees and other such greenery… and they say there’s no plant life in Manhattan!) and so my roommate and I went down to investigate. There was no kosher food to be found but it wasn’t exactly what we were looking for. If anything it was more of an opportunity to get to know each other better. I spent some time checking my e-mail as I hadn’t gotten my computer quite set up yet.
Within twenty-four hours I managed to have my new cable modem set up and installed, an appointment to have a new phone line installed, and other such fine things. Growing up, whenever I went into New York, I always felt like I was at home but I thought that perhaps it was only a feeling that I had since I was visiting. Perhaps, I thought, if I actually lived there, I wouldn’t feel nearly as comfortable. Maybe some of the noise would begin to get to me, or the people yelling about socialism and needing spare change. This has not been the case at all in the close to a month since I’ve been here.
The Religious Life
Before I came back from Israel, I was worried that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to pray as often as I was doing when I was in Israel. I didn’t have car insurance, and the nearest place to pray was about three miles away or so which wouldn’t do any good anyhow during Shabbos when one is not allowed to drive. When back in the States I spent a lot of time walking to and from Rabbi Dubov’s house in Princeton. I got irritated seeing that people had driven there on days when people are prohibited to even touch a vehicle. It was a friend of my mother’s who suggested that I consider the Ohab Zedek congregation on 95th street, with Rabbi Allen Schwartz being the head of the congregation. I went there one day and prayed, and had a wonderful time doing so. I really felt some sort of connection going on, so to speak. In that regard things have been going swimmingly well since I have moved here. I prepared a meal for six other people with the help of my roommate, of course, and we went to a few places to eat, too. The holiday of Shavuos starts this Thursday night (the evening of the 16th) and we will celebrate by staying up all night learning. I mean, I did it while I was in college so now why not do it for the almighty, the creator of the universe, right?
The Traffic
I think one can immediately spot someone who just plain doesn’t belong in the city by the way they act in the pedestrian traffic situations: That is to say, the subway and with the traffic lights. There is a certain art, for one, to walking along with the traffic lights. A few years ago or so I might have been able to say I felt occasionally lucky in finding a steady stream of green lights but since then I have learned all kinds of new things about traffic patterns. For example, there are a few stages to a “Don’t Walk” sign. The first stage is when it initially lights up – this means “Go ahead, the light won’t change for awhile.” Second, when the light on the same side turns yellow this translates to approximately “You should be running right now if you’re not on the side of the road you wish to be on.” Finally there’s the red light, which means Every Man For Himself as it’s just a mad rush to finish traversing the road and cars will stop at not much to get to the other side of the road to paraphrase an old joke involving chickens.
Then there are the subways – the subway is one of the greatest inventions of human history. The second greatest on that chain, of course, is the Metro Transit Authority swipe card. It’s hard to imagine one without the other these days. At first I took it easily and bought a set value card – you swipe it through the machine and it deducts value from the card. Then I got bold and went for a seven day card, which would allow me unlimited use for seven days. At present I am using a one month card, the activity of which I am tracking to get an idea of how much money I am saving by doing it this way. For the ultimate in avoiding scorn in the subway area, don’t just stand still in front of the stairs, swipe your metro card quickly but not too quickly – quickly with care, so to speak. People have a terrible tendency to think that New Yorkers are all rude and in a hurry. Well, I don’t know from rude or where they might get such an idea (actually I do but it shall be discussed further in an upcoming article) but there is nothing wrong with being a little bit hurried now and then, if you are careful about it. The tourist type does not appreciate this, however, and thinks highly of the concept of the immortality of the human soul as they always seem to be walking slowly right in front of me. Or so it seems.
The Job Search
Up until recently the job search was pretty horrible. Things finally started looking up for me when I took the advice of a friend of mine and went to a staffing agency that he had recommended. The attitude of the agency changed when I mentioned my referral from “We get 300 resumes a day” to suddenly asking me to come in and take standard tests. From there within two days I was already working. This has all taken place in the last week or so, mind you – I have spent many hours sitting around the apartment on job agent web sites trying to find something, anything, with some sort of substance to it. My mother was willing to pay the rent for up to two months but it felt like it was getting late even on that. Now that I am doing temp work I am free to have some creative project work on the side. This is certainly a grand part of my dream.
Conclusion
I knew Manhattan would be wonderful, but I didn’t really know that it truly did pulsate to the beat of Gershwin tunes until I could hear them for myself. I suppose it’s the same with anyone finding their physical place of living, a dwelling as it were. Some places will spit you out without a thought even though you think the place is beautiful and you really want to live there. Similarly, one might live in a place where there are millions of people and crowds are the norm and yet find peace and tranquility. I am grateful to have found the latter. To t
hink, I finally got to see my favorite film on the big screen, Manhattan, only at the Tribeca Film Festival. How incredibly appropriate.
A Stroke of Chance
My grandmother, who should live to be one hundred and twenty, was admitted to the hospital for the first time in the over 91 years she has been alive. She had suffered a stroke. The last few days have been full of reflection, with special thought being paid to the subject of last month’s column.
Taken for Granted
(This article is dedicated to Jessica Sandler, whose birthday it is today. She indirectly inspired this article through a few conversations we had in the Fall of 2001. Happy birthday, Jessica.)
Much of the unhappiness we feel in our lives can often be significantly reduced and sometimes even eliminated when we think about that which we take for granted and give some real appreciation for it. This could be accomplished even by giving a thoughtful acknowledgement that it is there.
Evolution of a Play
In the fall of 1998, I began writing a play based on an idea for a story that came to me a year earlier. A few days ago I finally finished it. The play changed a lot in the nearly three and a half years – but then again, so did I.
The Beginning
I first had the idea for the storyline of what would be the play around the spring of 1997, when I had just gotten unceremoniously dumped for what seemed at the time to be no particular reason. I had the idea to write a novel about an individual who (surprise!) had been in a relationship that ended badly, and how he got past the period of time in which he was in the pain of having just been dumped. I started by thinking of a few characters, a supporting cast if you will, and tried to write a few stories involving the characters so that I would get an idea of whom these individuals were and what their personalities were like. I even tried to start writing the novel, with an entire chapter about how the person’s ex-girlfriend went missing and, years later, given up on by the police. The idea was that, at a family reunion back around when the relationship ended, a family member of this protagonist who was dumped overheard the story of how it happened and decided to take matters into his own hands, so to speak.
The Idea of the Play
After awhile I was having difficulty writing this story, as I had no idea where it was going and what I wanted to happen. Between the summer of 1997 and the spring of 1998 I had the idea that maybe it would work out better as a film than as a book. I had a lot of ideas that I had visualized in my head, so why shouldn’t I be able to visually represent them for my intended audience, however small it was going to be? I think it was seeing Kevin Smith’s Chasing Amy in the theaters that gave me the idea that I should put it in film form. I therefore began by writing an opening scene including a minor soliloquy. A good effort, I thought, for an opening scene. When school began, the film got put aside and I focused on studying.
At some point in the semester, I had the idea that perhaps, since I had never directed or produced a film before, it might be better to make first a play that would be very simple in terms of production value, with as few characters as possible (yet fulfilling the needs of the storyline). It helped tremendously that I had started dating a Theater major who gave me all sorts of advice as to the writing of the play. I rewrote the opening scene to fit the new idea that I had, having it be a play, and there it sat for months on end. One scene to a play, without a second scene in sight. This continued until one day in the Spring of 1999 when the inspiration for the second scene in the play hit me like a strong kick to the stomach. I suppose you could say that it was somewhat inspired by real life events, as it were.
I continued writing, getting down another part of a scene which is where I hovered until I realized that once again I had no idea where I wanted the play to go, how it was to end, etc. I found this all to be terribly troubling. As the summer began, I realized that I wanted to write the play, but it just wasn’t happening without some kind of an overall idea of what was going to happen. An outline? How something as simple as an outline could have evaded my thoughts for nearly two years, I have no idea. Nevertheless, it was then that I decided that I needed to write an outline for the play before any more work could be done.
In early August of that year, I spent five days in London on vacation. (I wrote an article in which I described that vacation to some extent for Go Inside Magazine entitled, A Veritable Vacation) Part of the vacation had me sitting in some of the beautiful parks that one can find in London. I watched as people walked by, slowly ate egg & mayonnaise sandwiches, and in two sittings wrote the outline for my play. I think I can safely say that it was the most productive vacation I have ever had. Getting to see “Celebrity” in a theater full of soft leather couches was, of course, a bonus. After London, I spent a few weeks in Israel with my cousin Gadi and his then girlfriend Kira. (I attended their wedding a few weeks ago – they are quite happy, to say the least.) While in Israel, I wrote several scenes of the play, adding bits to the rough outline I had written for myself and making a few minor changes, but generally sticking to the outline.
Finishing The Play
It took an additional year and a half or so, but I finally finished the play. Bear in mind, I did attend school full time and I worked two jobs at the same time, and for a relatively brief period of time I was convinced that I was going to get married. I was able to finish the play in the free time that being in the yeshiva allowed me, and now I have begun the process of editing it.
Conclusion
I think I can safely say that the plays/films (I hope to adapt this play to the screen) I write in the future will be written considerably faster than three and a half years, but I don’t regret it having taken so long for this, my first play. Many plot details were inspired by things that happened over the course of the last three and a half years. If I had stuck to what I was going to write initially and had quickly written it, it would have been an entirely different play – it might not have even been a play at all! The fruits of those initial efforts did not go to waste, as I managed to incorporate bits and pieces of ideas from the book into references I made in the play. I suppose you’ll have to see it to understand what I mean.
Yeshiva 101
On the first day of being in the Ohr Somayach yeshiva, it was one of the six annual fast days that traditional Jews observe – thus, one of the rabbis humorously referred to our dinner as our breakfast. This was after an eight hour plane ride during which time we partook in the morning services in the rear of the plane, a long wait in the passport / visa registration area, and a fairly long (yet inexpensive) cab ride.
A New Year Unlike Any Other
On January 1, 2002 I will be in the old part of Jerusalem, in the lovely land of Israel. This is just one of quite a few ways in which this will be a verily New year for me.
On Becoming Frum
At some point during this last summer it became quite apparent how important my religion was to me. The question was, since I felt so strongly about it, why wasn’t I doing anything about it?
I Know What You Mean
Yes, really, I do know what you mean. So this process where every sentence you utter, or every other sentence, is punctuated by asking me if I know what you mean gets to be extremely aggravating, especially since you never allow me the opportunity to answer your question.
An American Tragedy
I woke up on Tuesday, September 11, 2001 at approximately six-fifteen in the morning. I did not wish to be late to work. I wanted to work my four hours, study for my classes, and then later in the evening go home. A few minutes after nine, a news report showed up on CNN Asia that turned into one of the biggest tragedies in American history.
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