Because They're the Habs

The Habs. People outside of the city, the circle, the sport, or the culture don't know what that means. It is short for "Les Habitants" - the informal nickname given to early settlers of New France (in the 1800s) and while our hockey team has been known, for over 100 years, as the Montreal Canadiens, they are also known as The Habs. This seems to have been the result of an offhand, and inaccurate, statement made by Tex Rickard in 1924. The then-owner of Madison Square Garden, explained the Canadiens logo incorrectly. The logo looks like this:

 Rickard said the "H" stood for "Habitants". In fact, the "H" stands for "Hockey" and the logo above has always meant "Club de Hockey Canadien".

But the nickname stuck. And we are known, lovingly, famously, and forevermore, as The Habs.

It's post-season now. The playoffs. The time some people call "the real season". The slate is wiped clean. The 16 teams that have made this special club are no longer about points. They're about wins. It takes 4 wins per series. And the stats are as reset as the fresh sheet of ice that bears the team's logo and the the Stanley Cup painted into the ice of those lucky 16 arenas in these playoffs.

This is the 80th time in their history that the Habs are in playoff mode. Montreal has missed playoffs only once (2012) since I became a "true" fan (see "Habs Loyalty"). I became a fan due to a highly successful playoff run in 2010. And I'm known to be blindly loyal to my team. Do I see their faults? Sure. Do I fall off the bandwagon because of it? Absolutely not!

I have my superstitions: in the 2010 playoff run, I made fudge one day, for the game. I called it "Victory Fudge" and then believed that the Powers of Hockey Success might take that the wrong way, so I amended it to "Habs Victory Fudge." It looks like this:

Habs Victory Fudge

We won that game. I continued to make Habs Victory Fudge.

I got a new hamster during Round 2, when the Habs were up against a very strong Pittsburgh team. I named the hamster Habsie. Here he is:

Habsie

 

 

Habsie died when the Philadelphia Flyers eliminated Montreal in the Eastern Conference Final. Coincidence? I think not. I never got another hamster during playoffs and definitely refrained from hockey-related names.

I never go negative against the team - it's all about positive energy.

Okay, I'm superstitious.

I tend to embody the word "fan" as it is in its longer form.

Oh yeah. That's me. Not eating dinner on game nights because of nerves and excitement (mostly nerves. Okay, ALL nerves). Getting highly irritable if the scoreboard tilts the opponent's way. Getting emotional - both the highs and the lows - when games end and results are final. Talking hockey. All. The. Time. Ending conversations with "Go Habs Go!" even if said conversations have nothing to do with sports of any kind.

Okay, that last bit - it's a Montreal tic of sorts. In playoff season, we "Go Habs Go" everywhere on social media. Sometimes with a hashtag, sometimes not. Sometimes the whole cheer, sometimes just GHG. I've been on the phone with friends, and in saying goodbye, it might go something like this:

"Enjoy the game. Talk to you soon. Go Habs Go!"

It's Montreal's version of "Aloha" or "Shalom". Doesn't hurt to say it, can't omit it from many conversations. Perhaps job interviews are the exception. More to the point, perhaps job interviews outside of Montreal are the exception. I'll let you know.

So we are beginning Round 1 tonight, against Tampa Bay. I am feeling very hopeful - many analysts are optimistic that it all points to Montreal. I won't regale you with the reasons for that. This blog is mainly aimed at my non-hockey, non-Montreal, non-Habs fans (that makes me shudder - how can one NOT be a Habs fan?!), even non-Canadian or non-North-American followers.

I am posting it for one reason. Not to inform, educate or recruit you. Though, should you wish any or all of the above, please peruse the blog for hockey-related posts, of which there are many.

I am posting because with Round 1 beginning tonight, and a strong optimism for a Round 2 showing, I am about to become All Things Hockey - without apology, restraint, or explanation.

I am proud of my city. Montreal has so much to offer. Even in the off-season!

But when it's playoff time? My city comes alive even more than the coming of Spring (which is taking too long, by the way). People are abuzz with the excitement. Businesses are not only accommodating to game times and hours, but sport "Go Habs Go" signs, logos, and culinary specials. Car flags sprout up like newborn tulips. Habs jerseys - a staple in this city year-round - become even more prevalent. City buses sport "Go Habs Go" above their windshields, scrolling with the bus number and destination streets.  Even our mayor has decorated City Hall:

This is a city that LOVES its hockey!!

And when the Habs win a round (hear that, Hockey Gods?), I take my kids, and any passengers they want, driving up and down our main street in our community, honking my car horn along with the other revelers, waving our flag, singing the signature "Olé" song (a short amateur video to demonstrate the song - yes, it's a soccer chant but here in Montreal, it's the Habs victory chant). Then we go to Dairy Queen to buy celebratory ice cream. It's a tradition in my family. (Does YOUR family have any playoff traditions? Comment below)

So, there it is. The reason my Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest accounts will likely focus on hockey for the next 2 months (yes, I am optimistic). Not exclusively - I'll slip in some political stuff, don't you worry (*grins*).

But you have been warned: as I am an unapologetic, all-out fanatic Habs fan, I hereby enter post-season with this growing exuberence, pride, and rah-rah outlook. Please don't hesitate to join in - we're always open to more fans, and there are never too many.

Oh:

Go Habs Go!!!

A Quick Lesson on Privacy

Taking time out of my hockey, politics and personal postings for a public service announcement - emphasis on the word "public".

I'd like to take a moment to talk about Facebook privacy settings. Yes, many of you already know about them, and this isn't a Facebook 101 lesson. But it came to my attention recently that at least one person on my timeline has a public timeline. And for me, that was something that mattered.

See, I protect my timeline. If you are not a friend of mine on Facebook, and not on a restricted list, you will not see my posts. Why is that important? Because, from experience, knowledge and expertise, I can tell you that people will try to hurt others in ways you might not even imagine. Your photos might be lifted, altered, and distributed. Your words can be copied, altered, and you can be made to look as though you have said something you would never say. Your name can be used in ways you hadn't imagined, and spread throughout groups of people who are not your friends. And who may, in fact, be your enemies. And who may very well contact you to harass you (even if they are not on your Friends list, they can message you). And yes, I speak from experience.

There is a reason Facebook privacy options are so well received in the community of tech-savvy users, educators, and programmers. It's because of all the social media platforms, Facebook gives the user the most control over what s/he posts and what others can see.

This isn't Facebook 101 - there are guides written for that purpose, and easily accessible online.

But this is about my own person philosophy as regards my privacy and how others adjust their settings.

See, what I post on my page is visible to those I have entrusted with my little corner of the Internet. And there have been times - and will be again - where some of those people prove to be unworthy of my trust, or unappreciative of my posts, and either get deleted (the unbecoming term "unfriending" in the Facebook world) or put on my "Restricted" list. That list has multiple uses. I have, at the moment, at least one person who has told me how and what to post as what I seem to say bothers this person. I chose not to be told how to post, and relegated this "friend" to my Restricted List. They cannot see my posts, but we are still connected on Facebook (and I can see the posts from that page). It's a bit like "creeping" (looking but not interacting) but I have left the door open for this person to return should the decision be made to put up with me. (Not that I'm difficult - just...opinionated and vocal about issues).

I'm sure I am on Restricted Lists of others as well; those who choose not to share with me but peek through their window to my Facebook postings. Those who come out of the woodwork once in a while to comment (another handy-dandy use for Restricted Lists - comment whenever you wish, without having to be "refriended"). I know of at least 2 on my list who have done so. It amuses me, as I am aware of the reasons for their having done so. But that's the beauty of Facebook - the right of any user to hide from another, for whatever reason they see fit.

But here's the thing - and many people may be unaware of the settings that leave them vulnerable.

If you have a friend whose posts are set to be visible to "Public" - your every interaction on that person's page is now open to the Internet at large. You can end up embroiled in an all-out fiery debate and if the person's page settings are "Public", well, your words and photos and ideas are now out there for anyone to see.

To me, there is no difference between what I post on my Wall and what comments I leave on the Walls of others. I recently learned of a friend's Public setting, and have sharply curtailed my comments on that Wall. Especially as the majority of those posts are political and my views are not always in sync with everyone else's. (What can I say, I enjoy diversity in my online interactions as I do in my offline world)

So here's how to tell if you're broadcasting to the world. If there is a globe in the corner of your friend's posts? (see screenshot) It is a Public page, and even though it is a person, not a cause or event, or television show or radio station, it is as public as any of those.

If a friend only posts to his/her Friends list, the icon will look like this:

It may not matter to you. But I wouldn't be the social media educator I am if I didn't warn you about the possibility that you are publicly posting even on a good friend's page.

Just be aware. Privacy is YOURS to control. But when others take your privacy and discard it, it is your right to make the decision to post - or not to post.

And that's it for now!

Too soon?

All day on Facebook, I have seen a now-viral image of "Gilligan's Island" photoshopped with the Malaysian airliner that has disappeared. It has made the rounds several times and I'm pretty sure it's on Twitter as well.

I've commented on a few threads. I believe, personally, that "too soon?" is a question never to be asked in the face of loss of life, or just plain never knowing. And I don't believe we should be joking about this situation - or others that are similar. Here are my thoughts:

We have no idea where the plane is. And while I recognize that is the whole idea behind the photo, it cuts into the mystery, and does not take into consideration the anguish the family members, friends and acquaintances of the missing must be feeling.

If indeed the family members are on social media these days, this has to destroy them even further. If they are not, it is likely their friends and acquaintances are.

So I have to ask myself, if - heaven forbid -  anyone who has posted this picture, laughed about it, made fun of the mystery or made light of this situation experienced a similar tragedy (because a missing plane with 239 people is a tragedy no matter how this turns out), would they feel it's okay to post something that blatantly makes light of their loved one's disappearance?

I wouldn't. It would add to the devastation already being experienced. It would not only hurt me, it would infuriate me.

There is nothing funny about this situation. I am guilty of having made a reference to "Lost" but not in jest, only in stark comparison. I have not joked, speculated, or passed along unconfirmed items on social media. I don't believe in using the fear and anguish of others to further my reputation on Facebook or get a few laughs.

Why is it no one makes light of 9/11?

Why is it no one makes jokes about children found dead of abuse?

Why do we find it acceptable to make light of almost every other tragedy? Is it because no one who has posted these attempts at humor is directly connected to a victim of the airliner's disappearance? What if you were?

This is my own personal opinion. These are my thoughts.

I welcome yours.

Post-Olympics Musings

Well, the Games of Sochi 2014 have come to an end, and I thought I would put down some of my thoughts.

I always experience a rush of emotions as the Games close; there is pride for my country and how my athletes have fared. There is pride for ALL countries and how they came together for 17 days in a non-political spotlight. And there are blues when the Flame is extinguished and the party comes to an end.

For 2 weeks every 2 years, I am immersed in Olympics Fever. I love the events, and the achievements, but mostly I love that there is a constant buzz in the air of "anything can happen" feelings. The stories behind the athletes, the stories behind the events and how they unfolded, those are always compelling, poignant, some make us truly renew our faith in humanity (think Justin Wadsworth or Gilmore Junio). These Games were no different than any other, in that there was true competition, the usual surprises, and the heart-stopping drama culminating in Moments of exhilaration (Canadian Women's Hockey, anyone?). And the crowning glory of reclaiming our spot on the podium in Men's hockey (I wouldn't be the fan I am if I didn't mention that!), with an entire country crowded bars and pubs, friends' or family homes, or just waking up to watch in pajamas and cheer on our guys in a 7:00 a.m. puck drop.

But the Games were shrouded in controversy this year. It began with celebrities like George Takei and Stephen Fry, who called for the Games to be relocated to Vancouver (illogical if not misguided - those decisions are made years in advance in order to prepare a city for the invasion of millions). Their call came in light of President Putin's archaic and homophobic laws. Now, I don't agree at all with the way in which Putin's government has approached the issues, nor do I agree with the brutality that has ensued. Nor do I believe those attitudes help contribute to a true Olympic Spirit.

But in its infinite wisdom, the IOC awarded the Games to Sochi 7 years ago. The laws were not in place then, but the pendulum had swung, preparations were underway, funding was in place, peoples' lives were about to become chaotic, and one doesn't just pull the plug on that.

When celebrities take on a cause, their followers herald the troops. And boycotting the Games became a call to arms.

I disputed vehemently on many a social media venue. I would not boycott, because in the end the Game are about the athletes. And those young people have trained - most of them for their entire lives - to compete, no matter where the arenas were situated. I felt that because they are the focus of the Games (and should be), and because it is ludicrous to punish them for laws that they were not responsible for, nor supportive of (in all probability), it dishonored those young hopefuls to boycott their shining moments.

I wasn't just talking about our athletes either. Yes, I feel deep Canadian pride for my country's delegation, but the names I wanted to hear called on the podium - USA's Jason Brown (video here) from the USA, for example, whose pre-Olympics performances catapulted him into figure skating greatness even before the Games began (and who ended up with a bronze medal). Would Russia's magnificent Evgeni Plushenko get a third Gold? (He withdrew from competition, retiring on the spot after a fall rendered him unable to compete and injuring his back to the point of surgery needed)

It's about all the athletes. The delegations-of-one from countries like Mexico, Kyrgyzstan and the Philippines (list of one-athlete delegations here). The countries making Olympic debuts like Dominica, and East Timor (seven nations made Winter Games debuts) and the imminent retirements from their sports, as with our own Hailey Wickenheiser and Finland's Teemu Selanne - what kind of Games would these people all experience?

Boycotting would deprive me of the joy I get from those Moments. And the enjoyment of the events I follow, introduction to events I do not, and revisiting events I watch every 4 years.  Boycotting deprives the sports fans of their 17-day bonanza.

I believe it was mostly non-sports fans who called for the shunning of these Games. Or those who are sports fans but don't truly get the Spirit of the Olympics and the reasons for which these Games take place. 

There were those who boycotted based on the government. I surmised that, even with my distaste of the American government in power now, I would never boycott watching the Games if they were held in the USA. My focus is solely on the humanity and athletics of the Olympics.

Those activists who came out against the Games were predicting disaster. Gay athletes and their families would be thrown in jail (I encountered someone who did accuse the government of doing just that, when in fact the story she had read was not about athletes, but about some rowdy protesters, and that is within the right of any police force to contain). Gay athletes would not be allowed to compete. Gay athletes would be edged out of medaling.

None of that happened. Nor did I ever believe it would. Not because Putin would turn a blind eye, but because he would have been committing political suicide had anything like that happened on his watch.

I had confidence the Games would come off as planned.

And not only did they, but Opening and Closing Ceremonies were practically perfect (the one malfunctioning snowflake-ring was a source of ridicule and "I-told-you-so" reports for days after, with many of us pointing out that Vancouver's Openings had their own malfunction - with the lighting of the Flame, no less!). And in fact, the Sochi organizers, to their credit and with their delightful sense of self-deprecating humor, deliberately recreated the malfunctioning snowflake in the Closing Ceremonies. Russians? Laughing at themselves? Say it isn't so!

The Ceremonies were filled with professionalism, polished technology and staging, exquisite design (the floor of Fisht Stadium [gallery of photos here] was spectacular as it took on an everchanging landscape of thematic design and photography), and overwhelming moments of performances. 

The IOC President, Thomas Bach, made an impassioned speech in the Opening Ceremonies (which was surprisingly edited by NBC - allegedly for time constraints; the full text is in the link provided) that should have served to bring those die-hard boycotters back to the Games. The line I took away from it resonates (italics mine): 

I say to the political leaders of the world - thank you for supporting your athletes. They are the best ambassadors of your country. Please respect their Olympic Message of goodwill, of tolerance, of excellence and of peace. Have the courage to address your disagreements in a peaceful, direct political dialogue and not on the backs of the athletes.

 And yet, there were those who might have watched without admitting they did, might have watched while admitting they did, or might have remained steadfast in their ideologies and stayed away altogether. It must have been difficult for those who spoke out and followed through, however, as social media, print media and radio/television media were wallpapered with stories from Sochi.

My question to those who decided to boycott remains, how can you not feel pride in your country's best athletes who went to a new country, participated in a 2-week meet, and gave their all in order to medal, place, or merely show up to pad their experience for their next competitions? How can you not feel or show pride in the accomplishments and stories that emerged as the days went on, in the young people who represent the future of your country, who leaned not only on the support of friends, family, teammates, coaches and trainers, but on the support of their country sending them off to Russia to fulfill their dreams? And how can you not feel the patriotism oozing from every corner of your city as flags fly high to honor the returning athletes and crowds overflow airports to greet these moral, spiritual and athletic giants in their first steps on home ground?

Four years ago, I found myself at the airport on the same day Joannie Rochette returned to Montreal. Her emotional performance was underscored by the devastating loss of her mother just days earlier, in Vancouver, but she prevailed and won bronze. I was drawn in by the support for her, and waited in an unending bubble of time until she (along with our other athletes) stepped out of the door to the media scrum and the throngs of people there to welcome her home.

Joannie's strength, athletic and spiritual, inspired this year's athletes. When you read a story like this, how can you turn your back on those hopefuls for an utterly irrelevant Cause not their fault or within their control to change?

I suppose I cannot understand those who were so loud against Putin but remained silent when China hosted the 2008 Summer Games.

I suppose I cannot understand those who deem everything to be politicized, thus refusing to see a separation of Games spirit and political dissent.

I suppose I cannot understand those who take a stand against something by speaking out against it but taking no action to instill change.

But I would not boycott these Games, and I am all the richer for it. I stand proud as a Canadian whose athletes kicked ice, overcame broken bones to compete and medal (Mark McMorris, anyone?  Meaghan Mikkelson?), and whose country placed a respectable 3rd in overall medal wins.

I stand proud as my nation and my hockey nation celebrates 2 back-to-back Gold medals in men's and women's hockey (the women taking their 4th Gold in as many Games). I stand proud as my nation celebrates men's and women's Curling gold (with an unprecedent undefeated women's team in all 11 games). Yes, I stood proudly in my bedroom, in pajamas, singing Oh Canada as the men's hockey team celebrated their Gold and a country erupted in cheers.

I cheered loudly in my car as the women tied a game that was all but lost, and in my kitchen as their OT winner broke the sound barrier all across Canada.

And I feel richer for having followed the hockey games with my kids, discussing the results, the Moments, the upcoming events, and the predictions for that Final Showdown.

I feel richer for having witnessed a perfect Olympics.

And I congratulate Russia for their Games. Because despite their politics, their austerity and their intolerance, they delivered on the promise they made 7 years ago. Medalists and non-medalists alike were all winners, because of Russia's beautiful job on delivering a breathtaking 17-day Games.

As are those of us who are Olympics Enthusiasts.

See you in Rio '16!

Hockey Love and the Olympics

Let me preface this with my unequivocal support for, belief in, and confidence in my teams. Whether it's the Montreal Canadiens, or Team(s) Canada, I always have faith we will prevail.

That being said...

Today's game of hockey, played between two sworn rivals - the American and the Canadian women's teams - was one for which I had absolute unshakeable confidence. Canada had dominated the USA last match, and were set to repeat not only that power, but another gold-medal winning performance.

The game began, and there I was - in my car as my son was in his 1-hour class (I drive him in and find a parking spot for the hour or less). I was listening to the game, watching on my iPad app, and increasingly dismayed at how it was unfolded. We weren't scoring. We were getting chances, but we were not scoring. Nor, for that matter, were the Americans. So with the first period down, both teams were scoreless.

USA scored in the 2nd. I felt rising nerves but quelled them, knowing our girls could come back to tie that. But it didn't happen.

By the third period, when the USA got their 2nd goal, I was positively morose. Did I still believe in a comeback? Yes. But as the game clock counted down precious minutes, it was becoming less and less a possibility.

By this time, the kid was out of class, and we were on the road. Listening on radio, we were both on edge. But with 3-1/2 minutes on the clock, Canada scored a goal. Suddenly, it was a new game. Still, the clock was moving too quickly. When the USA almost scored an empty-netter, my heart about stopped. Hitting the goal post was way too close for my comfort!

With less than a minute to go, Marie-Philip Poulin tied the game, and I shouted, "UNBELIEVABLE!!!" (poor Josh - I yelled in his ear)

Driving down the 20, I had to believe other drivers were listening as well. And if they weren't, they knew something was happening in my car - my fists were pumped, my smile was ear-to-ear, I was probably emanating enough adrenaline for everyone to feel the electricity!

As the game was in intermission, we stopped at Dairy Queen. I'd promised my son an ice cream cone, and so, I watched on my iPhone as I was served. Sharing the "story" so far with the girl behind the counter, we shared a "Go Canada!" and I left.

We drove home, OT had begun, and I watched at red lights, listening in between. When we got home, the Americans were just about to receive a penalty - something the commentators believed should have been a penalty shot for interference. I walked into the house, eyes glued to my phone as the officials discussed the penalty with various coaches. By this time, Josh had turned on the television in the kitchen.

I walked in, put my phone down, and it was at that moment Marie-Philip Poulin (yes, again!) scored the overtime winner. Talk about timing!

The emotions that followed were a jumble. DEEP pride and awe in the women of Canada, who have that Never-Give-Up spirit, and showed it today. Heartbreaking sadness (to the point of tears of sympathy) for the Americans who, for all intents and purposes, should have won this game. Kudos to them. I have no smugness or gloating in my heart - because they sure did push us to our limits, and beyond. I've seen some mean-spirited gloating. I won't engage.

Sang the Anthem in my kitchen, with tears in my eyes. And celebrating our country's victory on social media, which is the next best thing to being in a bar or pub and shouting with the crowd.

Now, tomorrow. Our men's hockey teams meet as well. And it isn't for the Gold, as it was in Vancouver. It is to see who advances. Do...or die. (It only feels like a Gold-Medal game)

And though, on paper, our guys are deep in talent, strong and successful on their respective teams, these Games have been a challenge for them. They have not scored as many goals as their opponents tomorrow have throughout the Olympics. And considering how confident I have been in their ability to beat Norway, Finland, and Austria? Those three games (okay, two out of three - Austria was a cakewalk) were nowhere near the blowouts they were predicted to have been.

Facing Latvia in the quarterfinals, we were given more than a run for our money. It was not predicted to have been so. It was a nail-biter in every way - and no, I didn't believe we would lose, but there was a nagging "what if we don't move on?" in my stomach. I watched the last period on my feet, pacing, experiencing physical discomfort from the stress. Let's face it - when the opposing goalie, a relative unknown, has faced 57 shots in a game, and we only have 2 goals on the board, you know you're up against a tough team.

Tomorrow will be a huge test. The Americans are strong. P.K. Subban is not being put into the line-up (no, this isn't going to turn into a piece about P.K. - I could. But I won't). And we are facing a successful team.

But...

We have Carey Price who has only let in one goal in each of the 3 games he has been in nets. We have a strong defensive core as well. If we can hold them off, and just score one goal more than they do? We can move onto the Gold Medal game. Which, I believe, we can win.

This has been the first Olympics in which I am totally into hockey. In 2010, I was a practically-new hockey mom, understanding some of the game, but nowhere near as rabid a fan as I was to become when the Habs went deep into playoffs that summer. Now, I know more. I feel it more profoundly. I take it harder. And I follow every  minute.

I'm not sure I did myself any favors, becoming so intensely fanatic.

But - to paraphrase a famous line from a famous movie -  hockey, I can't quit ya.

Go Canada GO!!!!!

Spirit - (Written June, 2001)

Meet Spirit. He is the first cat I have ever owned, and he has quite the story to him...

Since Toe-bi went over the Rainbow Bridge, I have yearned to have another sweet cuddly friend in the house. However, with Sam growing up from babyhood, and Joshua needing me as well, it was not feasible to have a dog, which requires - bless them - much attention and training. For the past 3 years, I've looked at other pet owners with the envy of an animal lover and the desire to join the ranks again.

One day while hanging out at Bonnie's (the art supply mecca where I get all my goodies), I saw a kitten she had there. It was one which needed a home, but was so skittish, I could not even get a moment to say hi. The following week, I was there, and someone had the kitten in their arms. I petted it, thoroughly enchanted, and when she put him down, he rubbed up against my legs. Dropping my purchases, I sat down right there and the kitten crawled into my lap. At that point, I was told he had a home to go to, and I was very happy for him. But it got me thinking. Could I be a cat owner? Could I join "the other side"? And I knew that I could...so I began a quest for information, asking everyone I know who is a cat owner...training, care, personality, compatibility with children etc. The answers were all very positive, and I set out to look for a kitten.

I checked pet stores, but no one seemed to choose me. I went to the SPCA on Mother's Day, found a beautiful little gray kitten...unfortunately, Perry was not as amenable to the kitten as I and the children, and so we left without the kitten. Devastated, though, as I really had my heart set upon it, I decided to just bite the bullet and go for it. The next morning, upon my return to the SPCA, my heart broke when I saw that the beautiful kitten was adopted. But that wasn't going to stop me from my quest.

 I went back to the SPCA every single morning for a week, before work, and no kittens "spoke" to me...until Thursday of that week. I walked in, and there, in one of the cages, were identical twins. Pure white, with a lovely unique gray band stretching from nape to widow's peak, and they were both alert, sitting straight and watching me. One of them pawed out at me, and my heart was captured.
I played with him through the bars of the cage, mulling over in my mind that I wanted this kitten. However, there was no way I could take two - and I felt sad breaking up the pair. Heavy-hearted, I left to go to work, and thought about those kittens all day.

Friday, May 18, 2001. Joshua had no school. I left him at my mother's house while I attended a meeting, and then came back to pick him up. On a lark, we stopped by the SPCA. There, in that same cage, was only one of the twins - the other had been adopted. My heart skipped a beat...could this possibly be meant to happen? I put my finger up to the cage, and the kitten pawed out at me!!

This was the kitten who had flirted with me the day before!! Joshua was enchanted, and asked if we could adopt him. I hesitated. Along came Shirley - the volunteer there - the first time I was seeing her since the week before, and she asked what happened. When I explained it, she said that a kitten is an easy animal to have and that I should consider adopting. I told her I was thisclose to saying yes, when Joshua said, "Mommy, he choosed me! We have to adopt him!"

Josh and Spirit, homecoming photo

 Shirley said to me, "would you like to play with him?" And of course I said yes. She took him out and handed him to me, and took us to a cordoned-off room where we could put him down. So playful, so affectionate - docile in my arms, and vivacious on the floor, he seemed to be the perfect pet. Due to his nature, and his color, I even knew what I would call him: Spirit. Joshua said to me, so hopefully, "Mommy, can we get him?" And in that moment, I knew. And I nodded. And said, "yes."

We put him back in the cage so that I could fill out the papers, and Joshua stood at the cage. I called him to me, not wanting him to be alone in the room, and he said, "I need to stay with Spirit." So I left him there, smiling as he said to a couple looking at Spirit, "that's the cat my Mom is adopting for me." We went downstairs while another SPCA worker took Spirit from the cage. Joshua asked, concerned, "where are you taking him?" and the woman explained that she would put him into a box for transporting. "But you're going to put holes in it, right?" Joshua's concern was so real. She assured him that yes, she would, and we went downstairs. I filled out the papers, chose a litter box, kitten food, and dishes, and took everything to the cash register. A large box was brought to us, punched throughout with holes, and Joshua's face lit up. After paying the fees, I looked at all I had to carry. Joshua, without having to be asked, took the litter pan with all the things we'd bought, and said, "I'll carry these for you, Mommy."

All the way home, Spirit nipped at my finger through the hole, and mewed. Joshua was giggling with excitement, and my own enthusiasm was uncontainable. We went to pick up Sam at school, and he was beside himself... his teacher was waiting with him, and we told him there was a surprise in the car. His teacher knew we'd been looking for a cat, and she was so excited when she came to see our new little guy.

The end of the story is quite a story in itself...

When I went to pick up Sam at school the following school day (it was Tuesday, as Monday was a holiday), his teacher handed us a gift-wrapped ceramic bowl and a cat toy for Spirit, welcoming him to our family. Two days after that, she told me that a little boy from the class came up to her, after we left, to tell her that he, too, has a kitten. She asked his mother upon her arrival, if this was indeed true. The mother replied, "yes, we got a kitten last week, and I have to tell you, I felt so badly...he had an identical twin, but we could only take one cat.."

This is the synchronicity (meaningful coincidence - a concept I have been aware of for 15 years and have studied) which follows me in my daily life...the chances of Spirit's twin living so close, belonging to a classmate of Sam's, well, this is just par for the course it seems...*s*

And now Spirit resides here, at home, where even Perry has admitted that he is cute, and smart (litterbox trained from the start *proud mama grins*). Spirit lives up to his name - unfortunately, sometimes it's 2:00 in the morning, but I guess he's a night owl like his mom...

And since it's tough to resist that camera, I hereby present to you...

Spirit.

Sam and Spirit, homecoming photo

One afternoon, waiting for Josh to come home on the school bus, this sight greeted me in the vestibule where Spirit spent the first 2 months of his life till he was allowed to roam the house

Spirit telling everyone he wanted to be outside (he is an indoor cat) - you can see Josh's delighted laughter through the screen door

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The above was written in 2001, for a website that is long gone. But being the digital packrat that I am, I have all the files and decided to publish this here. Spirit is bigger, but still the same sweet boy as when he first joined our family. His sibling rivalry with Theo over the past 6-1/2 years has been fun to watch. And to this day, he still sleeps in Josh's room, as he has since he was big enough to start roaming the house and doing the stairs. It's as though he knows Josh was there when he came home with us.

Sam, being a preschooler when Spirit came to us, has always loved Spirit but was a little more wary of the unpredictability of a cat. This past summer, Spirit began a love affair with Sam, seeking him everywhere, flirting with him, snuggling with him, and showing a little of that rivalry when Sam is giving Theo "tummy tickles" - pawing at Sam, and rubbing his head up against Sam's shoulder as if to say "hey - me too!"

The boys on Sam's bed

Rabbi Cahana's Yom Kippur Sermon

Below is the text of Rabbi Cahana's sermon.

B”H

Yom Kippur 5774: Reduced and Contained

So the LORD God caused the man to fall into a deep sleep; and while he was sleeping, he took one of the man’s ribs and then closed up the place with flesh. Then the LORD God made a woman from the rib he had taken out of the man, and he brought her to the man. The man said, “This is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman, for she was taken out of man.”

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh. Adam and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame. Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?” The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.”“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.

Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the LORD God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the LORD God among the trees of the garden. But the LORD God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”

Genesis chapter2:21 - 3:10

It is very important for the Rabbis to report in their midrashim that two figures of the bible were born circumcised: Adam, the primordial man and Moses, the humblest prophet of the Jewish people. The circumcised membrane on the Jewish male newborn presents a partnership, a covenant, a bris with G-d that to create life with a woman, man must never use his stronger power to overpower her. Power in Judaism is never to oppress, but to uplift. In community the downtrodden must be upheld, life is for protection and enduring love for the delicate, fragile and vulnerable. Judaism teaches that man should seek the splendor of beauty found deep within a woman, through her natural qualities of compassion and exquisite kindness, as it’s recited when men put tefillin onto their weaker arm every morning: “I betrothe myself to you forever... I betrothe myself to you with kindness and sublime compassion.”

There are two forms of knowledge, teach our sages. Firstly, knowledge is meant to discern between what promotes closeness to G-d and what distances from him. This is what is meant by the injunction not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Evil keeps G-d apace, the good draws us nearer. The other form of knowledge, the Torah explains is intimate knowledge. The Torah says Adam knew his wife and then child birthing was in process. This is how life is in partnership with G-d. Creation happens through soul-to-soul knowledge between two human neshamas as opposed to biological procreation, which is found throughout nature.

It is so strange to read the story of the fall of Adam and Eve on account of eating fruit. Could this really be defiance to the Creator of the universe? Additionally, the text says that Eve saw the beauty of the fruit and therefore wanted to consume it. It was sight over taste that was the undoing. What is it that we really want when we take things not given to us? What are we trying to find? What is missing for our feeling of completeness? On Yom Kippur we try to get to the bare bones of the matter. Who am I? What is there there at essence? I obviously have these questions in me swirling and echoing throughout my body. Where is the I inside my I? In other words how do I know that I have a soul? Today our senses have been working in withdrawal. We do not taste. We minimize fragrance and color. White is the absence of a variety of hues. We are told to seek the still small voice inside us. A real prayer is recited in silence like the Amida. We are living a full day of sensory deprivation just to find what is real at core. And there we present ourselves to the G-d we think we know and who we want to judge us. There is our judgment on Judgment Day today. Today we establish the breadth of our value systems, our reference points and our ownership of what our effect is in G-d’s world, which is not our own.

Chapter two of the book of Genesis ends with the sentence “A man leaves his father and mother and cleaves to his wife.” The next chapter begins with the statement that the snake was the most conniving/naked of all creatures. We wonder why was the snake at the very center of paradise, wrapped around the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil? How did G-d allow Evil there at all? And where was Adam who was supposed to be cleaving to Eve during her exchange with the snake? Adam was told previously that he couldn’t eat from the tree of knowledge, but Eve wasn’t given that restriction. It was when Adam ate the fruit indiscriminately that a spiritual death was introduced to humankind. What looked good to Eve was a poisonous death knell to Adam. This was the point of no return to Eden. Eden in Hebrew means delight, but we know there is heavenly delight and animal delight. Human beings decide whether they are at base animalistic or angelic. Each of us has to know if we are looking to control our universe, which is what animals do, or if we are willing to trust any universe we inherit from G-d and grow to stature and substance within. G-d is the gardener of Eden, and we, our lives, are its produce. The moral tenor of our actions make the senses replete. Our actions, when honoring, have a sweet savor to G-d. G-d hears the language of our heart and signals an acceptance if we are genuine. G-d calls out to Adam: Tell me what you know? He hears the emptiness in Adam’s reply: I am naked. He finds Adam and Eve clutching each other, trembling and hiding. Exposed but hidden from themselves. Their translucent skin lost their light and G-d clothed them with skin (that covers us to this day). They had become conniving like the snake and now they were robed in leather. This is what it is.

Have you come to Yom Kippur hiding beneath layers of self-made false fronts? You are not a profession. You are not even a mother or a father. There was a time that you weren’t and there will be a time when your children will leave you. You are not even defined as a person that loves. We all know how fickle affection plays with our emotions. What we were given was an image of G-d inside us, a potential to be a creator. We are souls that want to define the glory of G-d in our lives. How above the ground can we rise? The midrash tells us that Adam was created from the ground of all the corners of the earth. And many people believe that we will be buried in that ground as well. From dust to dust. Yom Kippur speaks to a lofty creation that we make in partnership with G-d, a spiritual height of being, a skyward aspiration of our space.

I obviously live now in a reduced place. I am confined, constricted, refrained and contained. That may be the reality objectively to everyone else. But it is not mine. I feel my life force coming through. No barriers but me in freefall happiness. I’m jumping here and everywhere endlessly and without restraint. A mind believes what it wants to believe, and my mind believes that G-d owns the future and gives it to me now. I feel like a pioneer, introduced to my body at first glance and able to enter each sub-atomic particle and chart its dimensions. I have been allowed a world of timelessness, a Shabbos forever to investigate the pure unmitigated energies of life. Why be anywhere else? We live in the possible, not the improbable. This is why a person can look forward to the day of judgment and not tremble beneath it.

How could Adam and Eve leave a father and mother that they never had, unless of course G-d was the mother and father that they did leave in the attempt to shortcut their way to eternal life? The text says the snake was naked, meaning exposed to its raw being of convolution and connivance. In Hebrew the word snake, nachash, means to guess, to approximate. It is always the opposite of true knowledge. The snake was on the bark of the tree and Adam was on the other side of Eve. Eve, in Hebrew, Chava, means innocent existence - existence without judgment. The innocent is always the target of Evil; also, the innocent is the desire of Good. The snake began its chatter to Eve to separate Adam from her, and to separate G-d from them both. That is what Evil means in Judaism, to interfere with a relationship with G-d, to create doubt. Evil cajoles the Good. It flatters us into thinking that we are really self-made, that we play the only part in our own creation stories.

What did the snake gain from this encounter? And what is it that Eve found in the appearance of the fruit that delighted her?

Here is my radical conclusion. Please do not be offended. The rabbis don’t know what this fruit is. Some say an apple. Some say an etrog. Others say the grape. I am in a state now of being reduced and confined. Restraint and constraint. I’ve had this time to try to understand where lies my purpose in life. We are all born flailing and wailing. We are all body. The self of our body is in our mouth. We find nourishment and the suckle of our mother. We are born with contact. Once from inside our mother’s womb, and now outside at her breast. I believe that the fruit that Eve saw was the breast that gave her knowledge of the world outside herself. G-d did not tell her do not eat from the tree of knowledge. It was Adam who had to first go through a Shabbat of heavenly repose in order to prepare himself to know how to discern the fruit of Good and Evil. The breast has been either the downfall of man or the celestial heights of holiness. That is why I believe it was not two trees at all, but one tree rooted on the bottom into the ground as the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil and above it, the tree of Eternal Life. For man, learning how to honor the woman brings him directly above the tree of knowledge unto the tree of Eternal Life. How we employ our sexual encounters with our spouse either debases our lives or spiritualizes us. This is why the story of G-d and the snake are presented as the first act of the couple Adam and Eve. It is the judgment of all of us. Do we live in precious realization of what this life means?

May your judgment be pure because you have known eternal life in your own life, Amen.

Rabbi Ronnie Cahana

To read more of Rabbi Cahana’s sermons please visit his blog. wwwrabbicahanacom