Tag Archives: poetry

A Food Rant

With apologies to Francois Villon (who was already nostalgic on his 30th birthday–?!), “Where are the fortune cookies of yesteryear”?

When we were growing up, fortune cookies contained actual fortunes. My favorite, which I saved for years, was “You will inherit money and jewelry.” The cookie was not to know that in my mother’s declining years her caregiver helped herself to all the jewelry that was in the house: our mother, in the “wisdom” of her 90s, having long since removed everything from her safe deposit box. 

Admittedly, it wasn’t my taste and for various reasons I doubt I’d have seen so much as a lone earring, but still….

I digress. Today’s cookies are not only generally flavorless, the messages are either personal assessments (“You are the life of the party!”) or advice (“Do not hide your feelings. Let others know where you stand.”). To add insult to injury, when my husband and I ordered in Chinese food a couple of weeks ago, we both got the SAME fortune! Is that lazy or what?!? Who writes these things?!

Has this happened to you? Is it a national/regional/local phenomenon? Inquiring minds need to know.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

Today’s COVID-19 Practical Tip: Pass It On

This is so lovely I have to share it.

“Pandemic” by Lynn Ungar
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
Shabbat Shalom.