Joining the Thin Club

Grandma??? Me! Oh yeah!

 

"Whatever you do, do NOT tell men that you are a grandmother," the matchmaker advised me.  "It's the kiss of death!"

But as I leaned over my tiny grandson, born just last week, I knew that wild horses couldn't keep me mum about the mesmerizing feeling that flooded me as I watched my sleeping grand-baby's tiny pursed lips, or saw my son, now a father,  gently stroke his sleeping child's cheek with a look of pure love.  Add to that, my own mother, tears in her eyes, as she watched me watch them--and I found a moment that simply MUST be shared with the world.

I wonder how reiterating my joy will play among the men I meet who are my age and older.  The ones who say they find me fascinating and they would love to know me better -- if ONLY I were as young as I look--just a few years younger so they could start a family with me.  My heart does go out to them.  They never had children of their own.  They each have stories and countless reasons for their childlessness.  The likelihood is that in their lifetime, they will never witness their biological son stroking their grandson's cheek, but far worse, they are probably going to go through that lifetime both childless and companionless.  They will continue to scour the singles scenes, myriad parties and mixers, as the age gap between them and the fertile female population continues to widen, ever hoping that they will find someone to bear them a child at the age of 49 , 55 or 62. 

"There is a reason to why men prefer younger women," writes someone on the dating site I frequent.  "Let's state the obvious. As men we have few concerns of our own when choosing a mate. The first is children. Obvious the younger the woman is the more healthy children she could bring into the union."

But at what age will older men finally give up the dream?  At what age will men say, I may not have those children I always dreamed about?  And even if I were to find the perfect relationship with someone willing and able to bear those children, I may never live long enough to play soccer with my children or to see them graduate college.  And the chances are, I'll never live long enough to witness my children's children.  At what point do I instead, look for a compatible mate.  Someone who remembers the Beatles, appreciates life's moments, and with whom I can ride through life's roller coaster with, into the golden years.  Someone who will make me a part of her life and share her children and grandchildren with me.

But, no, the matchmaker said.  Don't ask, don't tell.  Don't let them know your age.  Don't tell them about your pride in your progeny.  At least not at first.  Let them get to know you -- have them fall in love with your warm smile and intelligence.  Let them love you for you.

But don't you understand - Now I AM a grandmother.  That IS me.  I'm a grandmother - even though I don't look the part.  And I love my grandson.  He is the crown jewel in my tiara, as are each of my children.  Is there really a good reason for not wearing my beautiful diamonds with pride?

So I amended my profile on the dating site and wrote about my pride and my love for my grandson and my children.  These are life moments that matter - that define me as a full-fledged woman and as a human being. If a man has an aversion to dating a loving, caring woman who has, to her credit, raised a child to be a tender, loving father, and who is proud to write about it, well, he is not a man I would ever want to marry.  Matchmakers be damned!

"Whatever you do, do NOT tell men that you are a grandmother," the matchmaker advised me.  "It's the kiss of death!"

But as I leaned over my tiny grandson, born just last week, I knew that wild horses couldn't keep me mum about the mesmerizing feeling that flooded me as I watched my sleeping grand-baby's tiny pursed lips, or saw my son, now a father,  gently stroke his sleeping child's cheek with a look of pure love.  Add to that, my own mother, tears in her eyes, as she watched me watch them--and I found a moment that simply MUST be shared with the world.

I wonder how reiterating my joy will play among the men I meet who are my age and older.  The ones who say they find me fascinating and they would love to know me better -- if ONLY I were as young as I look--just a few years younger so they could start a family with me.  My heart does go out to them.  They never had children of their own.  They each have stories and countless reasons for their childlessness.  The likelihood is that in their lifetime, they will never witness their biological son stroking their grandson's cheek, but far worse, they are probably going to go through that lifetime both childless and companionless.  They will continue to scour the singles scenes, myriad parties and mixers, as the age gap between them and the fertile female population continues to widen, ever hoping that they will find someone to bear them a child at the age of 49 , 55 or 62. 

"There is a reason to why men prefer younger women," writes someone on the dating site I frequent.  "Let's state the obvious. As men we have few concerns of our own when choosing a mate. The first is children. Obvious the younger the woman is the more healthy children she could bring into the union."

But at what age will older men finally give up the dream?  At what age will men say, I may not have those children I always dreamed about?  And even if I were to find the perfect relationship with someone willing and able to bear those children, I may never live long enough to play soccer with my children or to see them graduate college.  And the chances are, I'll never live long enough to witness my children's children.  At what point do I instead, look for a compatible mate.  Someone who remembers the Beatles, appreciates life's moments, and with whom I can ride through life's roller coaster with, into the golden years.  Someone who will make me a part of her life and share her children and grandchildren with me.

But, no, the matchmaker said.  Don't ask, don't tell.  Don't let them know your age.  Don't tell them about your pride in your progeny.  At least not at first.  Let them get to know you -- have them fall in love with your warm smile and intelligence.  Let them love you for you.

But don't you understand - Now I AM a grandmother.  That IS me.  I'm a grandmother - even though I don't look the part.  And I love my grandson.  He is the crown jewel in my tiara, as are each of my children.  Is there really a good reason for not wearing my beautiful diamonds with pride?

So I amended my profile on the dating site and wrote about my pride and my love for my grandson and my children.  These are life moments that matter - that define me as a full-fledged woman and as a human being. If a man has an aversion to dating a loving, caring woman who has, to her credit, raised a child to be a tender, loving father, and who is proud to write about it, well, he is not a man I would ever want to marry.  Matchmakers be damned!

You're on (Candid) Camera

A horrible video is circulating this week featuring semi-inebriated American youth in Israel cursing out our president.  The video was horrible on SO many different levels - so distressing that I know Jews who refused to comment on it, fearful of bringing more publicity to an already overexposed disaster.

But as an orthodox Jewish woman, I believe that I cannot remain silent.  I will not link to the video or name it in any way.  Those who have seen it know, and those who haven't can take my word for it.  It's horrible.

You see, as orthodox Jews, we know that we are scrutinized--not just by the public that waits for us to slip.  As people of "the book"--"chosen people"--we are always on trial in the public court, but any truly spiritual, orthodox soul knows that we are under constant scrutiny--by G-d.  The cosmic video camera is recording us every minute of every day--from the second we awaken, until we say our bedtime prayers.  And the recording is locked in a hard drive that will outlast the most durable data storage system on the planet.  It will follow us from one lifetime to the next and every action will beg the question, "Did you sanctify my name? Did you use the physical tools I gave you to bring light to the world? Let's roll that videotape!"

What a miraculous age we live in.  Information flows like water.  Every word we utter shoots across the cosmos at the speed of light.  And now, the world looks on in disgust at drunk and unthinking children making uneducated and random "so-called" political statements.  Because these children are Jewish--and orthodox--the statements are given credence as public statements.  Indeed, as Jews, we should already know that every word we utter in public or in private is a public statement.  We are all PR representatives for the Client of all Clients.  So when I see our youth behaving in complete disregard, not just of a camera pointed at them in a bar and the capacity that video has to be broadcast over endless social networks ad nauseum, but of a Higher Power that watches and judges--and has great expectations of them--as a PR person and a Jew, I find it disappointing, deplorable, and horrible.

Does the awareness of our underlying and constant scrutiny come about with age?  Not necessarily.  How many middle-aged folks are caught doing horrible things--Ponzi schemes, adultery, murder...So, how does one "tune in" to the awareness that we are forever being recorded for life.  That every moment will bring a complete accounting--not on YouTube but beyond.  And how do we bring this into perspective for our kids?  This video put us on trial with the general public.  And the results are horrible.  We are ALL being condemned.

It was a rude awakening.  Our children need to sharpen their awareness of the G-d who watches over them.  Their parents need to figure out why, in spite of a Yeshiva education that brought these kids to Israel, that message seems to have missed its mark.  Every Jewish person on the planet has to introspect and emerge "Al Kiddush Hashem" - with the realization that one must SANCTIFY G-d's name - not desecrate it.  Every moment.  Of every day.  In public.  In private.  Because we were put here to be examples.  Of everything that is holy and good.  Every minute of every day that we spend in this lifetime.  On facebook, on youtube, on twitter, in life.