Unconnected

Hey, readers. I hope I have a few.

Maybe it is because we are approaching the end of the year. But lately, I’ve been thinking back to my old posts. “Staying Connected”
http://alhaqoutaptonen.blogspot.com/2012/02/staying-connected.html has come to mind.

In that diatribe, I ranted about how all the different ways we have to connect. I droned on about being too connected. Now it is time to talk about the joy of being unconnected.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not this religious superstar. I am far from it. I try. Maybe you’ve seen my prior writings where, I discuss Judaism. Years, ago, the Staten Island rabbi that first showed me the way gave an enlightening speech during Yom Kippur. He said, “As we go into the New Year and are atoning it is important to remember there’s no way we can possibly fulfill all the positive mitzvahs each year. Let’s face it, we all sin. Therefore, we probably cannot stay away from all the negative ones.

But we should all pick a few mitzvahs and see how we do at perfecting them. Then check back next year to see how we did.” I’ve been trying. I have a long way to go. Don’t we all?

Anyway back to the point, Facebook, another thing, I am too connected on has the “Stay Unconnected For Shabbat” page. Of course, I joined it eons ago.

This past Shabbat, I was pleasantly reminded how joyful it is to be away from my computer. I think these days we take personal conversations for granted. Does it still exist? Maybe. Do we say more online than face to face?

I probably receive over 200 emails a day. Most are from my summer camp friends. None of them live terribly far from me. But we never see each other. We rarely talk. But we email all day.

Sorry guys, but come candle lighting time, I am happy to walk away from it all and log off. I think it is better for me. Logging off once in a while might be better for all of us. It helps you collect your thoughts and think more clearly.

Of course, immediately after Havdalah, I log back on and am usually beset with hundreds of emails. I try to answer them all. Sorry for missing a few. But being unconnected is mind opening. I usually send out my last emails, make my last Facebook posts and then take a break from it all.

Back to being connected. But in few more days…

Shabbat in Forest Hills, N.Y.

I am lucky, very lucky. I never have to worry about finding a place for a Shabbat meal. That’d be dinner or lunch. I’ve lived in Forest Hills since the summer of 2007.

For the last several years, I’ve been fortunate enough to be treated to dinners that would cost well over $150 per head in any of NYC’s five star restaurants. I’ve been to the homes of several rabbis, Machane Chodosh’s Delicious Taste of Shabbat, Anshe Shalom Chabad’s dinners and to the homes of countless friends I am part of the family.

Years ago, a Rebbetzin said, I am the wandering Jew of Queens. I am. But aren’t we all wandering? I am happy to report. I’ve found a permanent home in Forest Hills. But do wander around the area.

Despite that I have Cooking merit badge, I am in no position to host Shabbat. Unless you want some delicious chopped meat and veggies cooked in foil? I can whip up anything over an open fire. Well maybe not gefilte fish. But I never tried. However, I am great supplier of Israeli wine, vodka and Arrack. At least, I hope I am.

Yes, I’ve done a few Shabbats in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. No offense to my U.S. friends. I find there is so much more spirituality for me to daven at the Kotel and have dinner in the Old City. I am sure you’d agree. I look forward to when we all do that together when Jerusalem is rebuilt.

Each dinner offers its memories. In one house a really cute girl with yellow, not blonde hair (according to her) will stand on the table and tell us how she made the dinner. She will let us know how the only thing she’s still not big enough to turn on the stove. But she cooked it all. She’s five. Pretty soon according to her ima (mom) won’t be able to tell her what to do.

In another house lots of cute and super smart little kids run around. They treat us to a lesson in the morning’s parsha (weekly Torah portion). They play games and hop around. They probably know more than most of us.

I remember when the older of the girls carried a salad to the table. The bowl probably weighed more than she. However, she wouldn’t let anyone help her carry it. She made it. I remember the night she lit candles for the first time. A little while before she did. She kept telling us she was lighting the candle. We all gave her gifts. She managed to attach herself to all the gift bags and run around.

Then there’s another house or family. When I say family we are part of it. The ages run from about 6 to numbers I cannot up to. I get lectured on what it was like in Brooklyn in years past. I even was given a few “nicknames”.

Our host is an older chap. He is very warm-hearted and has served over 20,000 people over the years. His gefilte fish reminds me of my paternal grandmother’s. I miss her.

The conversations at each home are interesting. We talk Judaism, sports, Star Wars, Middle Earth and more. Much more. Each home seems to have a variety of themes. The singing is always great. Not that I can sing.

The shul dinners are always fun. I just wish they’d skip the Kedem. I call it cough medicine. That’s what my mom said it reminds her of. But it can cure a cough. I had one once and finished lots of Kedem. I was healed. I willI always BYOB.

During the week, some of my Shabbat families get together during the week for meals in some of our restaurants.

I am now deciding what type of wine to take off the wine rack for this Shabbat’s Dinner. I am going to one my favorite places. In this home the spirit you feel is sky high.

Of course, I will never say which is my favorite. Oh why not. My grandmother’s was the best. She left us on the first night of Pesach in 1993. I hope her neshama is getting an aliyah as I type. I know she’s watching me and is with me during each Shabbat. I hope she’s proud. I so wish I learned to speak Ladino.

Well I know this week’s Shabbat will be delicious. Not only in the food. But in what we learn and the time we spend together. It is only a block away or so from my house. But I so wish it was elsewhere. I want it to be in a reconstructed Jerusalem. I know my hosts and all my entire Shabbat family wish the same.

Shabbat Shalom

Nicknames

We all have nicknames. They are given to us by our parents, friends, enemies and who knows whom else? Mine include Vampire, Bat and Shlepion, those were given to me in my camp, Chappegat Hill, Ten Mile River Scout Camps, Narrowsburg, N.Y. At New Paltz my Tau Epsilon Phi pledge name was, Fudd. My frat jacket has my name sewn into it. This blog is named after my Vigil name; Alhaquot Aptonen interpreted as Stormy Speaker. That’s because I spoke with bolts of lightning when I played Meteu, the medicine man and how I served as Allowat Sakima, mighty chief of the Lodge, Aquehongian Lodge #112.

I love all of these names. I am stilled call many. Doesn’t bother me. Then there are the nicknames people earned or were given for not such happy reasons.

In camp everyone had one. Some were funny. Some were “insulting”. But we were kids. We had the Dentist, Space Ace, Dudley Brain Dead, Space Ace, Fireball, Bubba, Rock-N-Roll and thousands of others. No we had millions of others. Bucket Butt, the Porn Star., the Office Girl (he cleans buckets), etc. We often took people’s real names and made ever so slight changes.

Let’s talk about a few of these people.

The Dentist. I named him in ’87 or ’88. To this day, I do not know what is given name is. My assistant scoutmaster (ASM) and I were on the Kunatah Ball Field. My ASM has many nicknames. I gave him a few. Some came from things “my leader” did to him in the dark ages. My leader could be a novel or a movie. One day. I learned so much from him. I am who I am in many ways because of his teachings.

Back to the Dentist, I said to the ASM that’s “the Dentist”. The kid was getting ready to play ball. Just like any other young scout. My ASM said, “why”? I said look at him. He has a toothbrush in his mouth. This kid always had a toothbrush in his mouth. Hence, the name, the Dentist.

I got my vampire and bat names in 1983. It was my first morning in camp. I woke up an hour or two before wake up call. I sat on the picnic table and stared at the snake in the tank. I was near the “Palace”, our office. My ASM was just getting up. He saw me. I was 12. He was very old at the time, around 47. But we all thought he was a hundred. Now he is 300.

He asked if I was ok? I was fine. This continued throughout the summer. They nicknamed me “Vampire”. I never slept in camp. I used to roam around.

Space Ace was from Erph. There’s nothing more to say about him. He was nice kid. He was a little spacey. We called him Space Ace. He would retort, I am from Erph. I am not.

All of the aforementioned, sans the Dentist were in my Troop 521 / 721. I knew nothing about him. Other than he walked around all day with a toothbrush in his mouth.

Some of the names were given because the kids were your traditional awkward teenagers. We were shipped off to Boy Scout camp. Some of us loved it. Some us couldn’t wait to go home. I think you know where I stand. We all took our share of abuse. That was back in the day when you were allowed to do that. It made us men. It made us laugh. It made us cry. There are some stories about camp that happened years later that I will always cry about.

As for Rock-N-Roll, he was one of Camp Kunatah’s staffers. Kunatah was one of TMR’s camps. It was the kosher section. Chappy at one point had been its own camp. Eventually became part of Kunatah. Chappy closed after ’88. Kunatah closed a few years later. Sad.

Back to Rock-N-Roll. He was in his early 20s. He's a strange cat. He used to yell at me for driving the Truckster, the Chappy station wagon over 2 MPH on the camp roads. We were able to go much faster. But he would freak. I was 17 and had my license for a few months. I loved the Truckster. I used to blast U2 and Depeche Mode, as I cruised along.

Rock-N-Roll would stand on the podium in the dining hall during meals and rock-n-roll on it. In other words, he bounced back and forth. One day my ASM pulled his socks down. We wore those goofy, way too big green scout socks. I hated them. I still have a few pairs hidden away. Last time I wore them was maybe 20 years ago.

One day, the Porn Star, he was an alumnus from years ago teased R&R. He would come up every summer and hang out with us. He’s in great shape. Rock-N-Roll was rocking and rolling. The Porn Star made some comment. R&R replied back, “I know you weren’t talking about me”? The Porn Star yells back, “Yes, I was”.

Poor R&R almost fell off the podium. Laughter burst out in the dining hall.
One day his parents came to visit. We were playing ultimate Frisbee on the ball field. He proudly told his mom and dad about us. We had out own site and did our own programming. We did much more than the other kids in camp and advanced much faster.
It started to rain. We had a tradition, if it started to rain during ultimate, we would play in our underwear. I have no idea why. Some of us played in nothing. R&R was ready to keel over.

Anyway, nicknames are fun. We all have them. We must live with them.

I have a few dear friends that every day we send hundreds of emails and texts back and forth reminiscing about these great times.

Respectfully submitted,

The Vampire

Being Clean

For some reason, past posts are running through my head. This time it is “Courtesy”. (http://alhaqoutaptonen.blogspot.com/2012/01/courtesy.html)

I knew I wanted to post today. But wasn’t sure what to write. The gym is my muse. So as I walked over, I knew I’d figure it out there.

Who would have thought, I’d be writing about it? I walked over to my favorite treadmill for my warm up run, about 15 minutes at around 7 MPH. Someone left a water bottle on it. I went to the next one. Tissues stuck in it. The next three were the same deal.

Yeah, I know I am a neat freak. After all, the eleventh point of the Scout Law is “A Scout is Clean”. I am Eagle Scout. Not all scouts are clean. In my beloved summer camp, Chappegat Hill, we had numerous campers we had to drag to the showers.
I have Camping merit badge. To earn this, you needed to remember to leave your campsite cleaner than how you found it. I wish the gym goers would have to take this badge when they sign up. I’d be happy to rewrite the requirements to make it more suitable for this venue.

Why can’t people take their water bottles or paper towels and place them in the garbage? I’ve worked out in dozens of gyms across NYC. I have passport membership. I can use any one of my club’s facilities. The one I was in today is usually one of cleaner ones.

People come to this club to work out. I grew up in the Staten Island one. That’s a spectacle. The girls come to do their makeup and hair, while running on the treadmills. The guys come and chat with their girlfriends. Eventually, they lift. No one wipes anything down there. It is the only club, I’ve been to that they do not hand you a towel as soon as they scan you in.

The Rock Center one is pretty clean. The clubs in Soho, Village and UES are usually clean. I am sure they all have their days…

I did find a clean treadmill. I did my run and went upstairs to the weight rooms. Thankfully, my cool down run was on my favorite treadmill. It was clean.

I don’t know why I am so obsessed with cleanliness. I know it is genetic. My mom is. So is grandma. She gets up every day at around 4:30 a.m. and dusts. Bugs her that she has to wait a little while till she can vacuum. Buildings have rules about that. I was on my co-op’s board for a few years. I was told by the maintenance staff that I have the cleanest apartment in all of the three buildings they work in.

I took it to new levels. In my old job we had buffet style lunches served daily. One guy used to put his hands in the trays and eat right out of them. A senior officer, who shared my obsession, knew this clown never washed his hands after the exiting the bathroom. So did I. We would scream at him in front of everyone in the kitchen. He never cared. Some people are just like that.

I know as being somewhat observant, I am required to wash my hands when I wake up, before davening and eating bread. I do all of this. I love that we have laws written into the Torah focus around cleanliness.

As you read this, remember I am far from a Tzadik. I am probably a Rasha, trying his best to get to a higher level. I’ve met only one Tzadik. But she is more like my personal Tzadik. Her wisdom goes beyond anything I could ever think of. She’s helped me in so many ways.

Anyway, time to dust. But I do hope you get my point. Keep clean.

Homeless

Some of you may have read, “Sneakers,” http://alhaqoutaptonen.blogspot.com/2012/01/sneakers.html my debut post. For some reason, the penultimate paragraph so kicked back into my head.
I think it is due to the fact that everyday when I board my “R” train to go to work, I see a homeless man who lives in the Forest Hills station. Over the years, I’ve given him some Snapple and other things.

Here I am, racing off to my Rock Center office. There he sits. Last night, when I walked home from the rabbi’s house after the break-fast. (The Rebbetzin made amazing soups, salads, etc. I felt much better. ) There was a lady sifting through the garbage bags on the street. She was on the phone telling someone about her finds.

It is too wrong. It really puts things into perspective for me. Yeah, as I wrote in “Sneakers”, how pissed I was that no store carried what I wanted. Yes, I found them. But the reality is those problems or being annoyed about how high up I was at MSG during the Who’s recent Quadrophenia show, are worries so many people wish they had.

For example, I know this is nothing. I’m planning my next vacation. I know I will find all the planning a bother. I am sure I’ll go back to Israel. But I can go anywhere. These people need help just to get a cup of coffee.

I’m not sure what can be done. But I wish something could. I am not trying to sound like a “do gooder”. I am not.

Yes, I did spend nearly two-years cutting veggies at In G-d’s Love with Deliver. The veggies and the other food we prepared are delivered to people suffering terminal illnesses, NYC-wide. During our introductory sessions to the organization we watched the most depressing, but enlightening videos. They make you think.

Now I am really happy volunteering with ELEM-Entry NY. Last year, I spent Thanksgiving Day in Tel Aviv helping lots of Israeli teens. For these kids, ELEM-Youth in Distress in Israel is the only help they get. I guess it was a “thanksgiving” for all of us.

These things are small in comparison to what I know some others do. Small in comparison to what’s needed.

I am lucky. I’ve survived stuff, I will likely never write about.

I wonder how much better off we’d be we if helped the people we see living the train stations and the kids in distress? As for me, I will remember how lucky I am.

That’s all for now.