CHELM for the HOLIDAYS, Brilliant! A Book Review

Titling this book review "CHELM for the HOLIDAYS, Brilliant!" isn't an oxymoron. The classic Jewish "wise men of Chelm" stories aren't about stupid people; they are lessons in life and siyata d'Shmaya, the hand/power of Gd.

Valerie Estelle Frankel did a wonderful job writing CHELM for the HOLIDAYS; I enjoyed reading it. Allegories, such as stories about Chelm, are actually theological books written simplistically with humor, rather than heavy-handed preachiness. 

CHELM for the HOLIDAYS is written for very young readers in short, clear chapters sans illustrations, but you can read it to younger children, even preschoolers. The advantage of reading it to children is that you can discuss the issues and laugh together about the characters' "foolishness." 

For example, the Chanukah story, "The Oiliest Miracle" can be used to teach children how many candles or portions of oil would be needed to light the Chanukiyah, Chanukah Menorah all eight nights. Teaching via humor is very effective.

A very important concept is found in all of the stories, community. The people of Chelm aren't isolated individuals. Whether intended or not, they end up helping each other. We see this especially in the Shavuot Blintzes story and The Disappearing Challah.

CHELM for the HOLIDAYS is highly recommended. Buy it for young readers or to read to children of all ages.

Product details

• Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kar-Ben Publishing ®; Illustrated edition (August 1, 2019)
• Language ‏ : ‎ English
• Paperback ‏ : ‎ 72 pages
• ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1541554620
• ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1541554627
• Reading age ‏ : ‎ 8 - 15 years
• Lexile measure ‏ : ‎ 740
• Grade level ‏ : ‎ 3 - 9

Baile Rochel on The "Stand Up" Circuit

When I appeared a couple of weeks ago telling my aliyah-move to Israel story for The Women's Performance Community of Jerusalem , I appeared as my alter ego, Baile Rochel.

As you can see, I was holding a "script." At first I thought it would be enough to make a list of topics and use them as guidelines as I spoke, but then I was informed that they expected my performance to be of a certain time. Eeks! I had never really timed a talk before. Even as a teacher I'd just keep on going until the bell rang.

So, I sat down, right here at the trusty computer and began to write. Or more accurately, since I wanted to "entertain" and not give an "oral history" lecture, Baile Rochel took over the keyboard. I read it outloud, trying to guess how long and when the laughs would come, to see how long it took. That first draft of my very early years in Israel seemed long enough, time-wise, so I didn't continue the saga.

I edited it a few times on the computer and then got it printed. And then I highlighted it and as you can see in the photo below.

Then every time I read it more little tweaks and edits were made. The final performance was a version of what I had written. There's no way I could have memorized a ten plus minute speech.

A friend in the audience had told me to signal her every time I wanted laughter. I opened with an original joke, which got some laughs, thank Gd. I had forgotten to signal her, since I had been so nervous. When I realized that people were laughing spontaneously, I was so relieved. No secret signals were necessary!

I'll end with that joke, which I hadn't written down:

"I should have arranged to have a wheelchair waiting at home for me, considering all of the 'break a leg' blessings I had received."

Baile Rochel, "What? Me an Athlete?"

Nu, yes, I know, I haven't blogged a Baile Rochel for years. You probably thought she'd died or something, like maybe I lost my touch, my sense of humor. Well, maybe I did... I lose lots of things, pretty much everything but weight.

You may be wondering what happened to make me resurrect her again. Could it be a Brigadoon thing? The truth is even stranger. My best friend from childhood, from Bell Park Gardens who moved away well over half a century ago when we were eleven, (oops! Now you have an idea of how ancient I am...) found me, resumed our friendship, discovered my Baile Rochel articles and requested oh, so sweetly that I bring her back to life.

So, I tried to think of the most absurd topic possible. That's a no-brainer for sure.

"What? Me an Athlete?"

Way back when, I used this building, when it was
roofless and windowless as a "gymnasium."

I can't get over the fact that people here really think I must be an athlete. That's because every once in awhile, you can see these young mothers with their kids pointing to me and whispering:

"That lady over there was my gym teacher, the one who taught me..."

Yes, for thirteen years I was the girls gym teacher here in the Shiloh Elementary School. I never applied for the job; I was offered it. It's one of those "only in Israel stories." Some background, we moved to Shiloh the day the school opened. 

As the second year of the school was being organized, planned for, the supervisor from the Education Ministry informed the committee that especially with a Fourth Grade they were required to offer PE-Physical Education to the students. That created quite a dilemma, because there were no qualified, gym teachers in the community. Actually, there were hardly any qualified teachers at all. Some who were offered jobs hadn't yet gotten Teachers Licenses, due to badly timed due dates and the difficulties the young mothers had in completing all exams and papers. But they were permitted to teach, and the students had done very well the first year of the school.

Decades before these ancient tools/artifacts were discovered, I
taught my classes right here, at Tel Shiloh.

Someone remember that I had been a Creative Dance teacher in Jerusalem and had hoped to teach dance here in Shiloh, but the Coordinator of Afternoon Activities had rejected my offer, because she wanted a Ballet Teacher and didn't understand what Creative Dance is. Almost nobody in Israel did; I was probably one of the very first. Yes, so they went to me, and although athletic skill had never been my strong point, I agreed.

To be perfectly honest, I was considered one of the worst athletes in my school career. When team captains would choose up teams, I was the "booby prize" the one left over, whom they were stuck with. My enthusiasm never made up for lack of speed, poor upper-body strength and a history of being on the losing team in most games. And to be super honest, even my dancing has always been more enthusiasm than raw talent (or great body.) Considering that not everyone my age can easily still walk distances and dance, today these genetic abilities/gifts give the impression that I'm more talented than I had ever been.

Ironically, my creative streak and enthusiasm were the perfect talents and skills to teach "sport" in those early years. We had no equipment and no gymnasium. Who else but yours truly could invent games using dead balls? If I remember correctly, I made up a version of volleyball on rainy days, in which the students sat in the main hall when we had a proper building (sans gym,) boys against girls. They had to reach and stretch (remember I'm a dancer) to "tap" the ball to the other side. The boys' teacher was rather relieved that I could find solutions to our "situation."

Another of my favorites was relay races. They'd have to jump or skip or whatever I could think of to the end of the wherever we were and then run back and tag the next to go. Since I was so traumatized about always losing, I'd tell them to keep going.

"Teacher, how do we know who won?"
"Who cares?  Just keep playing!"

I was never big on competition. Losing is so awful. My aim was to produce women who loved to be physically active, regardless of talent.

I graded according to how many times they wore sneakers/sports shoes and wore sweatpants under their skirts for modesty.

"Athletic skills come from Gd, and I'm not giving Gd grades! I will only grade you on your efforts."

At one point my former rabbi, Rabbi Wolf of Great Neck, NY, donated boxes and boxes of bright yellow tennis balls he'd collect from around local tennis courts after his retirement. He had tried to return them to the players, but they told him that they "only played with fresh, hard barely used balls." So he began a project to donate these perfectly good balls to Israel, especially to me for the Shiloh School.

credit

No, I didn't teach tennis. I hadn't a clue as how to play, although tennis had been on the PE curriculum in Great Neck North when I was a student. The gym teacher concentrated on helping the students who already knew how to play to make them better players. The Great Neck motto was to encourage excellence. The rest of us were sent to a wall with a bunch of balls and some racquets. We were told to practice hitting the wall, but we kept lobbing the balls over it. It wasn't until a good decade later when we were living in England and I watched Wimbledon on television when I realized that serving in tennis is not the same technique as in Badminton.

My veteran neighbors remember my jogging days. So do I. A few months after my youngest had been born, friends and I had taken a hike in the nearby mountains, and they were horrified at my lack of fitness.

"You must get back into shape. We should jog together."

That sounded easy, so for over four years I tried to keep up with her. But somehow, no matter how hard I tried I never got faster, and it never got easier. The only thing I got was injuries.

And here I am decades later, still overweight and still consider walking and dance to be the only "athletic skills" I can do.

Book Review: Getting Laughs From Being a BT

I haven't written any of my humorous "Baile Rochel" articles for a very long time.  I had first written them for the Counterpoint newspaper, which had been edited by Rachel Katzman and my husband. That was decades ago.  I was known as the "Erma Bombeck of Judea/Samaria."  I wrote about many topics, such as laundry, teaching, women's Purim Parties, Passover cleaning and more. 

But one topic I shied away from.  Maybe it was just too close to heart and not something it had ever occurred to me to joke about.  That's the fact that I'm a "BT," Ba'alat Teshuva, a Jew who has mastered "repentance," someone who although not raised in a Torah observant home made my way on the rocky road to frumkeit, full Torah Observance aka Orthodox Judaism.

Even now, almost fifty years, half a century since I was first introduced to Torah observance by the OU's NCSY National Conference of Synagogue Youth, and over forty-five years since I enthusiastically took on G-d's commandments, I still feel insecure.  Maybe I'm not doing it right.  I never got up the guts to publically laugh at myself the way Nicole Nathan, the author of Let My RV Go! does in her wonderfully entertaining book.

Let My RV Go! can be purchased in both eformat and as a "real book."  It was sent to me for review.  I had no idea what to expect.  It opened up a whole new world for me.  I thought that I was the only one who felt "different" even though outsiders don't see it.  As readers of my blog know, I study Bible and even give classes and lead tours of Tel Shiloh.  But the real me will always be a bit different.  In recent years I've requested that those giving our local women's Shabbat shiur never ever use the phrase:

כמו שכולנו למדנו בגן....
Kimo sheculanu lamadnu bagan... 
Like we all learned in pre-school...

I and others who are either converts or BT's never learned in such pre-schools and it makes me feel very left out and rejected to hear such a phrase.

Let My RV Go! is about the bonding of two BT families and their adventures and misadventures on the way to spending a rather unconventional Passover.  Adding to their Passover challenge and time limitations, they had been given an important package to deliver before the Holiday to a "mystery person."  Neither full name nor address, just a vague description of who he is and where he lives. 

You need not know much about Judaism and Pesach to enjoy reading the book.  I have no doubt that anyone who has attempted a family vacation in an RV, whether Jewish or not, will identify with some of the problems the families encounter.  This is more than just a Jewish book.

By adding humor to all situations, whether between husband and wife, parents and children or navigating new roads, this is a book people will enjoy reading.  Yes, I do recommend the book!

The message is that "it all works out in the end."  Yes, it's an upbeat book with a happy ending, just the sort of book I needed to read.  And maybe I'll try my hand at the BT topic for Baile Rochel....