Turning to Tech to Explain the High Holidays

If you're Jewish like me (more cultural than religious), or are a non-Jew who wonders why your Jewish coworkers disappear on various September days, today's post turns to technology for enlightenment.

iPhone users can download a $0.99 App titled, "Jewish Days." This application can help you remember when the Jewish holidays occur and what each one means.

Here's their quickie explanation of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kipper, which are commonly referred to as the High Holidays or the Jewish New Year.


Rosh Hashanah, which begins the evening of Sept. 8, is the start of the civil year in the Hebrew calendar. It is a new year for people, animals, and legal contracts and it commemorates the creation of man.

Yom Kippur, which begins the evening of Sept. 17, is also known as the Day of Atonement. According to the Jewish Days app, it is the most solemn and important of the Jewish holidays. Its central themes are atonement and repentance. Jews traditionally observe this holy day with a 25-hour period of fasting and intensive prayer, often spending most of the day in synagogue services.


For many children, the most beloved portion of the synagogue service during the High Holidays is the blowing of the Shofar, a ram's horn. An iPhone App, also priced at $0.99, called "Shofar Hero" contains the four kinds of ritual blasts. FYI: The blowing of the Shofar is the only specific commandment for Rosh Hashanah. Just as trumpeters announced the presence of their mortal king, the Shofar is used by Jews to proclaim the coronation of the King of Kings.

Another $0.99 App, called "Synagogues Finder" uses your current location to identify houses of worship nearest your home. So if you haven't gotten a seat lined up for the High Holidays, check out this helpful listing.


Not to worry if you're sans iPhone. You can turn to the Internet for even more information about the High Holidays. Holidays.net outlines "entertainment and some fun Holiday things for you and your family." The site includes stories of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a Shofar to blow, some holiday recipes, and even pictures for the kids to print and color.

JewishFaq provides instructions (when to light the candles and when to drink the wine, for instance) and prayers for the holidays. The website includes both the Hebrew and English wording for each prayer.

MyJewishLearning is a great site for All Things Jewish. Here, you can explore more about the High Holidays and read an article written by Rabbi Shimon Apisdor, called "Making Synagogue Meaningful Or, How to survive High Holiday services."

I hope all of the above clears up some of the mystery about the High Holidays. But, if you're still fuzzy, and want a deeper investigation, you could point your mouse to amazon.com where you'll find a thorough listing of Jewish books.


And while you're on that site, don't forget to check out "The Division Street Princess," a sweet memoir about growing up in Jewish Chicago during the 1940's.

You didn't think you'd get away without a commercial, did you?

A Very Long Distance Birthday Greeting

It was an unfamiliar ringtone. I was expecting two early morning phone calls. From my daughters, Boston and Los Angeles. I knew when I picked up the phone, instead of “hello,” I’d be treated to choruses of “Happy Birthday To You.”

But this ringtone announced neither my daughter Faith (Piano Riff) or Jill (Pinball). It sounded familiar; something heard long ago. From my childhood?


Yes, that was it! “Bei Mir Bist Du Schon” being sung in Yiddish by the Andrew Sisters. A 1940s hit for Jews. I certainly hadn’t assigned that ring to any in my contact list. It wasn’t an option on my iPhone and the tune wasn’t listed in my iTunes library, so how could it attach itself to a caller?





And then I remembered my iPhone’s special abilities. It could relay phone calls between Heaven and Earth. Sure enough, calling me on my phone’s Conference Call feature, were my long-deceased parents, Irv and Min Shapiro, major characters in my memoir, “The Division Street Princess.”

I put my ear to the phone and as the Andrew Sisters wound up, I heard my mother and father belting out, “Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you.” They weren’t half bad.

Before I could respond, my mother jumped in, “We knew you’d be up early, so we wanted to be the first to call.”

“Hi Princess,” it was my dad. “Surprised?’

“That’s hardly the word,” I said. My delight prevented tears.

“We’re so proud of you,” they said in unison. To myself I thought, how nice to hear them agreeable. When alive, their frequent tiffs made the child I was quite unhappy.

“First it was the memoir,” Dad said. “And now your retail job. Just like at Irv’s Finer Foods. Remember your cigar box register?”


“How could I forget?” I answered. “I was so full of myself waiting on customers in my sundries section. I can still see little me holding that box as if it were a treasure chest.”

“I wish you didn’t have to stand on your feet all day.” It was Mother. I recalled she hadn’t been that crazy about wearing an apron or standing behind a counter in our grocery store. She believed the stained cloth disguised her glamour. But that could never happen. Not with her blue eyes, raven hair, costume jewelry, and high-heeled shoes.

“It’s not so bad,” I said. “I can wear my running shoes.”

“Hmmph,” from Mother. “You look like a kid in that outfit,” she said. “They couldn’t let you wear a dress? Why a t-shirt?”

“It’s all about the logo and a feeling of casual and comfort in the store,” I explained.

I couldn’t see her expression (FaceTime was still being worked on up there), but I imagined a roll of those beautiful blues.

“I see how you ring things up on that gadget you keep in your pocket,” Dad said. “Quite impressive.”

From Mom, “It wasn’t impressive I could pencil a customer’s order on a brown paper bag? Add it up in my head? That wasn’t impressive?”

“Sweetheart,” Dad started.

I interrupted. “No, no, of course. You were amazing, Mom. I remember standing at the counter next to you, wondering if I’d ever be as smart as you.”


“And I never went beyond Tuley High School,” Mother said. “Imagine if I had your education, Elaine.”

“What about me?” Dad asked. “Grammar school was it. I had to go to work…”

I felt those old vibrations and jumped in. “You were both spectacular,” I said. Now came the tears. “I can’t thank you enough for all you've given me. You made me who I am today.”


Calm on the other end. Then, together, “And, it wouldn’t hurt your daughters to give us a call now and then. They’ve got iPhones.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “The minute I hang up, I’ll let them know the lines are open. Expect their calls.”

“Don’t forget Princess,” Dad said. “Have a Happy Birthday.”

“Of course,” Mom added. “Why does she think we called?”

Still working, after all these years

Startled, I woke to find my iPad lighting up and levitating. That could only mean one thing. One of my parents, in their 24/7 heavenly abodes, was trying to reach me.

I sat up, unplugged the device from its charger, rested it on my knees, and opened its lime green magnetic cover. Sure enough, via FaceTime, it was my father.

“I tried to reach Ronnie first to congratulate him,” Dad said, “but I don’t think he’s got his WiFi connected yet.”

How I love FaceTime and its ability to display visages of callers -- no matter their celestial locale.

“Did you hear? Ronnie’s sold seven Toyota's, and he’s been working at the dealership less than a month,” Dad said. My father’s face was beaming nearly as much as my Apple device.

For this morning’s phone call, Dad elected to show his circa 1950’s face. That’s the one he wore after he sold the grocery store and was working as a salesman for a meat company. He wore three-piece suits to work -- no more bloody aprons -- a classic Stetson, and his black hair and mustache were slick and neat.

I was about to agree with Dad’s enthusiasm over my brother’s feat, when the FaceTime screen suddenly split in two and up popped Mom’s face.

“What’s so great about him still working in his 70’s?” Mom said. She looked as pretty as ever and like Dad, she had shucked her store apron and was garbed in a shirtwaist dress and high heels -- her attire post-store when she was a switchboard operator at American Linen Supply.

“He should be relaxing on some beach, playing golf, enjoying life, not working 9 to 5," she said. Now, the smile and screen dimmed.

I heard Dad sigh, so I took over. “Hi, Mom,” I said. “I’m still working in my 70’s, too. Both Ronnie and I have been forced to keep going because the economy hurt both of us.”

A laugh from Dad. “Hah, knowing you two, I don’t see a beach in your future. Admit it, you and your brother like working. You like keeping busy, earning a paycheck, kibitzing with coworkers and customers. Don’t tell me different,” he said. “I remember you two in the store. You loved helping out.”

Now it was Mom’s turn to sigh. “Loved? What was there to love? Slaving all day behind a counter. Watching our customers go across the street to the supermarket while they had debts with us? What was fun about that?”

“Look at all the odd jobs our kids had,” Dad said in profile to Mom. “That proves they were hard workers. Remember Sammy’s Red Hots for Ronnie, and his Hawaiian photography business?”

Mom gave a harrumph. “Don’t forget your daughter’s Gap and Apple sidetracks,” she said. “Although I do like these goodies she sent us from the Apple store.” My iPad momentarily rose as I imagined my mother holding it aloft for emphasis.

“Can I speak?” I interrupted. “You’re right. Ronnie and I did inherit some of your entrepreneurial spirit. So maybe we do like working rather than relaxing.”

I saw Dad shake his head. “Oy,” he said, putting a palm to his face. “Even though you say you enjoy working, it’s hard to see you two hit by a rotten economy, just like we were in the ‘40s. Outside forces...”

Mom interrupted. “Outside forces, shmoutside forces. Irv, you're forever blaming supermarkets for our store's collapse. Sure, some of the problems we can blame on them, but give it up already. Admit it - you were a lousy manager."

Dad looked sheepish. He was likely recalling the time spent in the pool hall rather than in the back of the store paying bills.

"And the bookies?" she continued. I stopped her there.

"Listen you two, you're wasting battery life bickering. Let's just call it a draw. You're both right; forces beyond our control bounced Ronnie and me back to the workplace. But, I'm sure he'll admit nothing feels better than making a sale. And I'll own up to delight in scoring a new client. Satisfied?"

Smiles from both. And with that, my iPad's screen faded and my parents disappeared.

Lying back on the pillow, I fell quickly back to sleep. Or…

To Sleep, Perhaps to Dream

Music is my preferred method of quieting my mind as I settle into sleep. It takes only a few songs by Carmen McRae, Ella Fitzgerald, Dinah Washington, Billie Holliday, Nancy Wilson, or Sarah Vaughn to release my brain from its continuous loop of To-Do and Worry Lists.

For years, I would tuck my iPod into a Memorex clock radio and wait to be sent dreamwards. I especially liked the feature that allowed me to designate 10-minute increments before the audio would automatically shut itself off. I would consider it a successful drop off if I couldn’t remember hearing the shift from music to silence. And the opposite, if the sudden quiet found me still starring at the ceiling.

Alas, poor iPod eventually died. (It was elderly, first generation, not worth repairing.) So, I used the FM radio portion of the Memorex to serve as my sedative. But often, WFMT’S classical music, which began softly, would soon rouse me with the crash of cymbals and drums.

My iPhone now contains all of the playlists formerly housed on the deceased iPod. I longed for the female jazz singers who once were my bedtime companions. I was aware I could replicate my previous method by purchasing a $99 iHome clock radio and audio system for the iPhone. But, I was reluctant to shell out the dough for what is often 10 minutes.

I searched iPhone apps for a solution that would turn its iPod into a sleep/music player. But, I came up empty. Then, I threw my quest into the Apple Forums. One of its experts came up with the answer. Here ‘tis:

1. Place your iPhone into the charger that is attached to an electrical outlet. This way, you’ll get juice while you sleep.

2. Turn on your iPhone's Airplane Mode to avoid being wakened by phone calls, text messages, or other alerts.

3. Go to your iPhone’s iPod app and select Playlists, Artists, or Songs. Get it started.

4. Click on the Clock app on your iPhone.

5. Select Timer.

6. Scroll to set the number of minutes you want the iPod on your iPhone to play before it shuts itself off.

7. For “When Timer Ends”, choose “Sleep iPod.” (Be careful not to leave your default ringtone selected or you will be roused rather than lulled.)

8. The iPhone will stop playing music when the timer ends.

9. In the morning, after your restful sleep, induced by your favorite music, remember to undo the Airplane Mode. Otherwise, you’ll miss incoming calls or texts.

10. After you’ve had your coffee, and realize this blog has saved you $99 and provided an Ambien-free method of falling asleep, Share the post with your Facebook friends.

Thanks!

Thanks for the email, but…

It was really sweet of you to write, Really, really sweet. However, you’ve made a series of gaffes in your message, and I feel it’s my duty to call them to your attention. Listening? Take notes.

1. If you are sending an email to a quantity of people, please do not put all of the addresses in the TO: field. Besides compromising my security by posting my address to people I don’t know (I’m sure they’re lovely, but still..), it’s a bloody mess.

Another problem is this: some email programs automatically add to their address books any incoming email addresses. Worse yet, if one of their computers on your mass mail list is infected with a virus that silently sends out spam emails, you’ll have just caused the entire list to get spammed.

To avoid those horrors, do the following: in the TO: field, enter your own email address. Then, plop your posse in the Bcc field, otherwise known as Blind Carbon Copy. If the Bcc option isn’t apparent, you should find the option for adding it when you compose a new email message.

2. Never, ever, send me a chain email advising me of the wonderful/bad things that will happen to me if I fail to forward it to my nearest and dearest.

3. While you’re a funny guy, and I agree you missed your calling as a stand-up, do not forward me dumb jokes.

4. Please add something to the subject line. It makes no sense to send me a message that reads “no subject.” Come on! A clue.

5. On the same topic, don’t just use “Hi” or “Hello.” I’ll think its spam and delete it before reading.

6. Consider changing the subject line to match where we are in our conversation. For example, we may have started out deciding on a lunch date, and then segued into your upcoming trip. If we’ve done a few back and forths, remove “Lunch Wednesday” from the subject line and replace it with “Seville in September.”

7. As your friend or relative, I’ll forgive misspelling, grammar boo-boos, and similar errors. But get in the habit of re-reading your email before hitting the send button. Another recipient might not be so forgiving.

8. I have a short attention span. That’s why I’m becoming enamored with text messaging. Just give me the facts. Email allows more words than texting, but it is meant to be brief. Please keep your message short. A few paragraphs and a few sentences per paragraph will do nicely.

9. If I send you an email that is obviously meant for your eyes only, and although my writing might be so stunning it demands more readers, please do not forward it without my permission.

10. Take the time to add a permanent signature to your mail message. Look in Preferences, or Mail Options, and you’ll find a way to add a signature to all outgoing mail. It should include contact information such as your home or mobile phone, or some way I can reach you other than the email. (If you’re loathe to add those numbers, you shouldn’t be writing to me in the first place.)

11. Watch out for the email’s auto-fill feature. Often, after a few letters, it guesses who the recipient is. If you’re distracted, you might select the wrong person. Say, Tim Burton for Tim Curry. (Okay, you come up with a better example.) Double check before you hit "send."

12. If you claim you’re sending me an attachment, be certain the photo or document is actually attached. Otherwise, you’ll have to send a second email apologizing for the omission and then resend the missing piece. Save both of us the trouble by, oh you know by now, Re-read. Double-check. Pay attention. Now, compose and send. I look forward to hearing from you. That is, if we’re still friends.