Newsletter July 2010

Posterity. So much is done for “Posterity”. I have never actually found out who this guy they call “Posterity” is and why everyone is always doing things for him, although I have noticed that most things done for “Posterity” tend to be silly and pointless - things no one else is interested in.

Today’s generation has an attention span that can just about handle a 128-character tweet, or, at a stretch, a mis-spelled 20-word facebook post. For them, a 1000-word newsletter is as daunting as Tolstoy’s War and Peace. So who will read our newsletters in the future? Who, but our reliable, uncomplaining friend – Posterity (and maybe also some of you).

Judy Priorities
Judy has her own way of doing things. For example, if walls are dirty, she doesn’t scrub ‘em; she paints ‘em. Last week we hosted friends for Friday night supper. The wonderful spread Judy put on overwhelmed our friends - two types of fish, three pies, four or five salads, all sorts of veggies, home-made spreads and more (that was just the main course). “When did you have time to prepare all this?” they asked, astounded. Judy just smiled. After they had gone, she confessed the truth. “Preparing the food was nothing; what took time was tidying the house”.

Daddy (Michael) is not the man he used to be
There was a time when I was a complete father - like a father duck (or drake) with all my offspring in tail. Three boys have lived away from home – in the army, mechinot and boarding schools - for the last three years and more, so it is rare for all eight of us to be at home together, even on Shabbat. Once, on surveying a sadly depleted Shabbat table lacking two out of six children, I commented that this Shabbat I was “only two-thirds a Daddy”. This casual turn of phrase entered the history books. Since that day, Abigail and Elisheva never fail to enquire every Friday “are you a complete Daddy today?” Depending on how many ducklings are home, the answer may be half, two-thirds or, about once a month, a complete Daddy. But when just one child is absent, the maths gets a bit hairy. Try explaining to a five year old that I feel 83.33333…% a Daddy.

Reporting for Duty: 2nd Lt Ari (22) and Private Elon (19)
Elon is now finishing basic training and has been assigned his “packal”. (“Packal” is the equipment a soldier carries in addition to his personal equipment). The coolest packal is the Negev. (Elon has a Negev). Elon’s main problem with infantry training for the first three months was that it wasn’t really all that hard. However, in the last couple of weeks he’s changed his tune since, in addition to ever-lengthening marches carrying the regular 30+ kilogrammes of equipment, he’s had to carry open stretchers for 7-10 kilometers at a time. You have to look at the bright side. At least he’s stopped complaining it’s too easy.

Soldiers speak a language of their own. They have code words, acronyms and slang that only the uniformed understand. When Ari and Elon are home together, we have to work hard to try to decipher their cryptic conversations. One sure topic of discussion between them is whose service is tougher. They can each recount horror stories of trials they were put through. It’s a question of pride. The soldiers that suffer more; the units that subject their soldiers to tougher training, are the coolest. Truth is they’re both training in 38 degree heat. Nothing cool about that.

Naphtali’s (17) game plan
Like the Jewish people in the wilderness who, after leaving compulsory bondage in Egypt choose to become slaves to HKBH, Naphtali, after securing his teudat bagrut (matriculation), has chosen to attend a yeshiva in Itamar. We are agreed that Naphtali will study for between three months and three years – or more; or less; depending. (We like to nail things down in our family).

Orly (15) Oh Oh Oh what a girl
Orly has also completed the first year of matriculation exams. Apart from achieving enviable results, her teachers and classmates singled her out for a special effort prize awarded to her in a moving ceremony in the local shul. This defines the difference between boys and girls. While such recognition brought Orly (and her parents) “nachas”, for the boys, being singled out as the class swot would have been social suicide.

Can’t get a straight answer out of Abigail (8)
Abigail has the acrobatic genes of Elon and Naphtali. She cart-wheels, flick-flacks and hand-stands from dawn till dusk (dusk is about 11pm in the Isaacs house). This can be frustrating. Try looking her in the eye for ten seconds; you get dizzy. And homework takes a little longer when the completion of every page is celebrated with a one-handed body spin.

Elisheva (5) and Abigail (8) as similar as a pea in a pod and a fish on a bicycle
To what extent are our children’s characters a result of our parental influence, the home environment, their social circle? 20+ years ago, raising our firstborn, the popular parenting books assured us that Mum and Dad fashioned their children’s personality. This was scary. By the time we got round to children three and four, Women’s Own, Women’s Weekly and other authoritative sources were quoting scientific data to prove that children’s personality was 50% determined before birth, with parent’s having limited influence on their development. This, too, was scary.

Raising children 5 and 6, I think both these theories are bunk. Abigail and Elisheva were raised in the same house by the same people in the same way – yet they are polar opposites. Their kindergarten teacher never fails to express her wonder at how two sisters could be so different. As she says with typical prejudice - “one is so Israeli and the other is so ‘American’”! Conclusion? Personality is 99% inborn. All we parents can do is polish the buttons. Now that is really scary.

Judy in Focus
I have a pet diatribe on what I call the “Disposable Age” - the age of over-plenty in which objects are designed to last for 3 minutes. A corner of a plastic toy snaps off – the toy stops working and needs to be discarded. A skirt rips – throw it out. An electronic appliance stops working - this is the worst. At the service center they tell you: “It’s not worthwhile to fix it”; or “this model is no longer supported”; or “Wow! I’ve seen pictures of this in history books!” This was the fate of our camcorder which served us well for a long long time, but went from cutting-edge to antique in five years, four of which were spent, jiggered, on the shelf.

We just invested in a new camcorder so that at kindergarten parties we will no longer be the parents snapping fuzzy photos with our mobile phones. Judy is a gadget person, and if I can prevail on her to help out, maybe we’ll issue the next newsletter as a YouTube video, starring all the characters you’ve been reading about for the last 17 years, or so.

And if the newsletter video lasts under 2 minutes, even the Twitter generation might sit through it.