Blessed be a Sandwich

What's a sandwich? Two pieces of bread with something squished in the middle. (My mother-in-law ad 120 puts a slice of honey cake between her bread, but that's another story.) They call folks in my stage of life, sandwiches. Thank G-d, we've got parents on one side of our attention and children and grandchildren on the other. I guess we could feel squished by the responsibilities of both, but instead of being compared to a peanut butter on toast or lox on a bagel, I'd rather think of myself as an overstuffed club sandwich with delicious deli meat, pickles, coleslaw and Russian dressing - full and flavorful.

I flew down to Florida today/ yesterday/ today/ whenever/ the day seems confused, to visit my dearest mother (may she live and be well until 120). It's my fourth time in America since my family made Aliyah 25 years ago. My mother used to travel to Israel twice every year, but it's gotten a bit harder for her lately. So, here I am with my daughter in sunny Florida to visit "Bubby".

We hit the ground running, dropping off our bags in her apartment and immediately attending two programs in her senior residence - A Virtual Visit to Ellis Island and Remembering Tin Pan Alley.

None of the seniors in the room had come through Ellis Island, although they said their parents had. Everyone had a story - the kid with an eye infection, the tailor who got the name Schneider, etc.

Music-R-Us

The Tin Pan Alley program was supposed to have piano accompaniment. When the pianist didn't show, the lecturer was disappointed. Talking about Tin Pan Alley without music is kind of like going to an ice cream parlor that's all out of your favorite flavors. Everyone sat quietly as she spoke about the music of Gorge M. Cohan and Irving Berlin. This would not do! My sister and I began singing every song the lecturer spoke about - By the Light of the Silvery Moon, Over There,  K-K-K-Katy, Give My Regards to Broadway, Yes We Have No bananas, Take Me Out to the Ball Game, Swanee and more. (They should hire us to perform.) Some other voices chimed in and we had such a rousing good time. The only thing missing was the beer.

Sitting together at a speech.

Then we met some of my mother's friends. They were so thrilled we came in from Israel. They remembered traveling there in 1972, 1989 after the Six Day War, after the Golan communities were formed. None had visited less than twenty years ago. Boy, I told them, things have really changed. They were happy to know that Israel has grown and prospered.

B"H, I'm lucky to be spending time with my Mom on her home turf, and I'm looking forward to her next trip to Israel to visit her great-grandkids.  Pastrami on rye, anyone? Yummm.