Update 20: Two Years Ago Today (1/23/04)

Hard to believe, but my mom passed away 2 years ago today. (This will actually be a funny story, so keep reading...) Since different moments from that year pop up in my dreams and nightmares almost daily, it seems like it was just yesterday. I again thank everyone who provided support in person, via email, snail mail, phone, flying in, etc....It meant and means a lot...and that's an understatement. Two years provides some space from the horrific moments, but the daily pain from the huge void left behind doesn't seem to fade.

To honor the 2 year anniversary, I decided to spend this morning in temple at a minion service. I went to my cousins' temple, the beautiful Sinai, on Wilshire Blvd on the border of Beverly Hills and Westwood. After getting through some intense security (thanks to Osama & Friends), I was led to the minion chapel. Sitting right inside the entrance to the chapel are two men around 80 years old. Next to them lies a basket filled with kippot (those are the litle caps you've seen that hide male pattern baldness). I grab a kippah and put it on my head. I begin to walk towards a pew so I could take a seat. At the same time I'm noticing that NO ONE else is in the room, one of the men tells me "talith are there" as he points to a drawer below the kippot basket. As a reformed Jew, I immediately realized "uh-oh...I'm in a very conservative temple". That means I was in over my head. In my religious background, a talith (the scarf-like thing with fringes you've probably seen religious people wearing) is worn at your own Bar Mitzvah...and that's about it. I've seen people put on their talith...and they often have some strange routine that involves kissing the talith and who-knows-what-else. I'm thinking "I don't want to disgrace the religion right in the face of these two hard-core 80 year old dudes.....BUT, since I have no Talith Routine, I'm not exactly sure that now is the time to INVENT one." So, I grab a talith and throw it over my shoulders like a winter scarf. All paranoid, I'm wondering, "Did I break a rule by just treating this thing like a scarf?" The 80 year olds continued their conversation without giving me any other commands, so I assumed the scarf routine was good enough. I took a seat and, with nothing else to do, listened to their conversation. Picture the classic, old-school Jewish vocal inflections.
"Did you hear about Sol Rosenstein?"
"No, what happened to Sol Rosenstein?"
"His back."
"What happened to his back?"
"The pain. It returned."
"No, his back pain has returned?"
"Yes, it's awful."
"So he won't be at minion?"
"No, he hasn't been to minion in weeks!"
"That's awful! How is Ed Bernstein?"
"Ed Bernstein? He's having a very hard time."
"What's wrong with Ed Bernstein?"

I'm literally biting my lip, doing my best not to laugh as I'm wondering whether one of these guys is really Billy Crystal in full makeup. It was too classic. Right out of a Neil Simon script. Thought: "PLEASE someone else walk in the room so I don't start laughing hysterically." My wish was granted as a few more 80 year olds walked in. Then a few 50-somethings. As everyone was doing their talith routine to prepare for the service, I'm wishing for someone my age WITHOUT a talith routine to walk in. Finally a guy my age who looks just like one of my college roommates (Danny) walks in and throws a talith on like a scarf. I breathe a sigh of relief thinking I'm not alone. He sits down across from me. Then he proceeds to put on tefillin! (Tefillin looks like a black box which is attached to a black rope that gets wrapped around you, leaving the box sticking out of your forehead. It's pretty hardcore...and coming from my reformed background, it's pretty wacky. No offense to my religious readers, of course.) I look around and notice that half the people in there have put on tefillin since walking in! What could be next?

The service begins. They tell us what page to open to and begin reading. On the left of the book is English and on the right is Hebrew. Every once in a while, (way more often in a reformed temple) there is a Hebrew transliteration on the left. That means they tell you in English letters how to sound out Hebrew words...so that ignorant people like me could pretend we know Hebrew. After the first 2 minutes, today's service moved to a section of the book with NO transliterations...and NO English is spoken in this chapel. With a total of 15 people in this small chapel, you can pretty much hear what everyone is mumbling as they read aloud with the rabbi. I can't read Hebrew. That means that unless we're doing one of the prayers that is burned into my brain, I'm toast. So there I was, completely LOST. Everyone is reading and chanting in Hebrew, flipping pages like they've been through this routine a billion times...and I'm trying to occupy myself by reading the English on the left and debating whether I'm really Catholic. As a panic attack is setting in, I look up, only to realize that everyone is STANDING but me!! SHIT! So I stand up. Everyone is bobbing their heads, so I bob my head. Everyone sits down, I sit down. Some 80 year old smoothly works into his Hebrew chant, "we're on page 185". I of course was on page 152. I calmly switch to page 185 as if "of course I knew we were on page 185". We get to a prayer I know so I can chant along with everyone else. I'm feeling good...phew...now I can handle this. Unfortunately, that didn't last long.

The service jumped into an all Hebrew section that seemed to last forever. It got to the point where I'm so paranoid that the people around me will realize I'm the only one who isn't at all reading along, chanting along, on the right page, etc...I felt like such an idiot that I couldn't decide whether to hyperventilate or laugh. I could hear my mom cracking up because I knew she'd have less of a clue as to what was going on than I did. The thoughts racing through my head:
"Am I in the right place?"
"I'm surrounded by a bunch of people with BLACK BOXES on their heads!!"
"If these people realize I'm not participating but just staring at the English on the left, they're going to think I'm a terrorist who is casing out the place for some friends in a cave with big plans."
"Why didn't I just stay home, listen to some Grateful Dead tunes about death and light a candle?!?!"

Suddenly they switch rabbis. Or maybe they weren't even rabbis. But a new guy from the crowd took over the service, leading everyone in Hebrew chants. Two minutes later, ANOTHER guy took over who was sitting closer to me. I'm thinking, "Holy SHIT! DOES EVERYONE TAKE A TURN LEADING THIS SERVICE?!?! AM I GOING TO HAVE TO GET UP THERE?!" I'm trying to think of what I'll say if I'm given a nod by some 80 year-old to go front and center. "I'm from the Midwest" wouldn't exactly cut it. "I'm not religious" probably wouldn't either. I guess I can lead the crowd through a great version of "Ripple" or "Brokedown"...or even the "Shma". Fortunately, the service came to an end. They announced that we may return at 5:45 p.m. today.

People began to exit, doing their whole tefillin removal routine and talith removal routine. Some placed money into a small box. Am I supposed to put money into this box? Do just some people do it? Does everyone do it? Do I put a $1 in there? A $50 in there? All I know is that I couldn't wait to get to my car...and to get to my computer to type up this wacky experience. I'm now lighting a candle that will burn for 24 hours...I'm heading to work...and returning for another awkward experience at temple at 5:45 this evening. After temple, I will go with one of my cousins to see my favorite local musician (Jon Brion) perform....closing out the day with family and music...the way this day should close.