My Birthday Posting.

Thanks JoeSettler for pointing out my Birthday. Not.

It's not that this is an ultra-significant birthday for me, but overall, I'm not a huge fan of my own birthday. It probably comes from my childhood.

Take yourself back in time...to the 1970's.

Plaid pants. Bell Bottoms, Horn-rimmed spectacles.

It was Sunday...and my friends were all over at my house, celebrating my birthday. Typical birthday stuff going on, and the cake comes out. Everyone starts singing:

Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday dear...

screeeeech!
Insert INTERRUPTION here!

My younger brother bursts into the room, screaming att the top of his lungs, "The Cowboys just scored a touchdown, the Cowboys just scored"

and EVERYONE (except me) ran out of the room to see the Super Bowl game on TV.

Did I mention that I hate the Super Bowl and spectator sports?

I was left singing by myself, "Happy Birthday to me"...

Screeeeeech. (sort of like nails on a chalkboard).
Abrupt Change of Subject.

I'm not really sad about the birthday. I'd like to share a story from a Bar Mitzva I was just at this evening.

Here was the conversation at my table:


Important Woman: Hey Jameel, Happy Birthday!

Jameel: Thanks!

Important Woman: So, who was it?

Jameel: Huh?

Important Woman: Who was it who told you to turn off the light?

Jameel: What light?

Mrs. Muqata: (turning to Important Woman): It was Daniel.

Important Woman: Jameel, I do read your blog! I wanted to know who it was that told you turn the light off in your car, that was in the ambulance that drove by you.

Jameel: Really? I didn't know you read my blog...or at least, that often.

Important Woman: And what's with the soap opera?

Jameel: Soap Opera?

Important Woman: You know the one with only 6 episodes.

Mrs. Muqata: Jameel, stop being so dense! She's talking about the Soap Opera on Shifra's blog!

Hmm. Seems like the JBlogosphere has permeated my life waaaay too much.

(And Shifra, I guess you should update the Soap Opera...you have fans everywhere!)

And then...while pondering the above exchange, the oh-so-boring-presentation-of-the-friends-of-the-bar-mitzva-boy was starting...and my son was there. He begged us to leave yeshiva a bit early so he could "practice".

I never did these things as a kid in the US. We just sat around making a silly "memory glass" at Bar Mitzvas for the lucky Bar Mitvza boy. Here in Israel, there is always some BORING skit or song which the friends of the Bar Mitzva boy hammer out, usually embarrassing themselves, as the guests politely clap.

Tonight, there was a different air to the boys. 6 of them marched in wearing black t-shirts underneath their white shirts...which were unbuttoned. My son had this huge smile on his face, along with his friends...and they started a choreographed dance to some chassidic song. But unlike the presentations you see at Bar Mitzvas...they were decent! In fact, they were very well choreographed for 12-13 year old yeshiva kids.

What was their secret? They danced in pairs, as a group, jumping over each other, and it was rather "professional", and everyone enjoyed the show.

Our community Rav came over to our table to ask, "Alright....which mother taught them? There's no way a group of 12-13 year old BOYS, who can't even remember to bring their books to school or that they have a test today can possibly manage such a well choreographed dance!"

And then...the secret was out. It wasn't even one of the mom's that taught them how to dance.

Shockingly enough...it was all prepared by the older sister of one of the boys!

Who would have thought?!

And then, at the end of their performance, their backs faced us, and they removed their white shirts so we could read the words "Mazal Tov" which was spelled out letter-by-letter on the back of their black t-shirts.

I think they raised the bar for Bar Mitzva presentations by a quantum leap.

Have a Good Evening...

Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz