Staying In

Dashing off this week to get out of town, but I wanted to write a Valentine's Day post last week and never got to it.

Better late than never, eh?

Leaving you with a short story about my favorite Valentine's Day.

I had a six-year old boy and a wicked case of carpal tunnel brought on by too much time hunched over a computer. I was a writer with a golf-ball sized lump on the inside of my wrist who couldn't type a letter without grinding, blinding pain. I couldn't lift my kid or ut a tomato or start my car or write a check to pay a bill.

We'd been going out for about a year when it happened. Why I started to go out with him was because of something he'd said on one of our earliest dates. I was trying to put myself together after a divorce and told him I wasn't sure about having a "relationship" at that point. Besides that, he was seven years younger and I wasn't sure about that part of things, either.

"I bet you have lots of girls you could go out with," I told him.

"I'm looking for someone I can stay in with," he replied.

And you know, being a writer... I had to love such eloquence. And wit.

I learned that when I was talking, he really, really listened. Paid attention not just to what I was saying but how I said it.

I learned that he loved my son and could think up all kinds of fun activities that would never occur to me -- and that when my son told a joke, he would listen patiently and laugh in all the right places.

And he had the best laugh (and still does) that I've ever heard. In fact, I think it's my favorite laugh, so much so, that everyone else's pales in comparison. 

So I did go out with him, again and again and again, and then the carpal tunnel struck, and struck hard.

Came over almost daily to do all the stuff I couldn't do -- cut vegetables, get my son to bed, drive to the bank, write checks, cook dinner. On Valentine's Day, he came by with the ring pictured here and asked if I would marry him.

Reader, I did. And never regretted it, not even for a minute.

So, I guess miracles really do happen, and some even happen on Valentine's Day.

But if you're looking for me at a fancy restaurant this year, I can save you the trouble. I'm sneaking off to somewhere wonderful with my darlin' -- staying in.

House Adventures: an anniversary tale

This week, I'm celebrating two special occasions: my wedding anniversary and the Jewish holiday of Sukkot, (pronounced Sue-Coat), which means booths and commemorates the Israelites wandering in the desert for forty years.

During this holiday, you are supposed to put up a sukkah (booth), (pronounced Sue-Kah), which is a VERY impermanent structure with a roof made of branches and leaves. The idea is to spend as much of your time as possible inside--eating meals there and even sleeping in the sukkah if you can.

The two interesting things about this (to me, anyway) are that my husband is not Jewish - I was originally married to a Jewish man and we have a son together - but my husband Pete jumped in anyway to build a sukkah with us, which always meant a lot to me (and still does).

In a way, the first one I put up with Pete was our first house, because we were living in a rental for the first couple of years of our marriage. This year, we are having HOUSE ADVENTURES, which haven't been great ones, to tell you the truth.

We are now in the process of being reluctant renovators, and praying and hoping our renovation goes well. (You know you're in trouble when big men are coming into your house to do big things.)

At the moment, though, I am a bit nostalgic for those good old, easy-peasy rental days. And in that spirit I'm sharing the blog post I wrote about our first sukkah house, built on a rainy night in October, because it makes me realize (yet again) how happy and how lucky I feel to be married to this wonderful guy.

I wrote this blog for TC Jewfolk, and hope you'll visit the site as there are lots of great writers there. Here's my story, if you're up for it.

"Our First House"

Sukkah photo:  Ron Almog

Surrealistic Moments: Getting Married Because of the Indigo Girls

Did you know there's something like 200 surreal moments we experience every day? I didn't either and who knows if it's true. It IS something I read in a magazine this week in a New Yorker story about Iceland.

True or not, it got me thinking about the surrealist moments in my life. First of all, what would I define as a surrealist moment? A long-lost acquaintance surfacing who turns out to be a relative? A doppelganger? A warp-speed change in the universe that suddenly makes a wish come true?

About the latter. I know I don't have 200 such moments a day, but I did have one I remember for its very significant result: the Indigo Girls being the reason I got married.

What happened was that I was minding my own business more or less as a single mom, and as people will, I started seeing someone. He had actually been a friend and a very fine one, but I had not expected things to go the way of dating, so I suppose that might have been a surrealist moment in and of itself.

In any case, a few weeks into our dating life, this fellow, we'll call him Pete because that's his name, asked if I wanted to go to an Indigo Girls concert. I knew this was because he knew I liked the band; his taste ran more to heavy metal.

That in itself should have given me a clue this man wanted to go the extra mile to make me happy, but I was, as they say in post-divorce parlance, taking it slow. Never mind that he was fun, handsome, kind, sexy and funny, that he genuinely loved my son and we had genuine chemistry; or that I should know better than to look for talismans instead of seeing plainly what was in front of my face.

God help me, I wanted a sign.

There was little likelihood of getting a ticket because the event was sold out; but Pete thought we might be able to find something by showing up a few hours before the concert started. Oh, and did I mention this was right around the time of my birthday? (Is that another surreal event)?

We walked up to the box office and asked if there were any tickets left, and someone said "no." And that, I thought, was that, and I'll tell you what else I was thinking. I had decided that if there were no seats, the universe was telling me that Pete and I would or should not be together. I don't really know why I decided this, but there you have it, thinking I could or would be able to design my own life.

We were starting to walk away when a woman entered the box office and looked at us. Her eyes met Pete's and she said, "Looking for tickets? Come here."

I promise you she looked directly at Pete. As we approached, she handed him two tickets which turned out to be front row seats for the concert. Looking directly at him, smiling the whole time, and putting us mere inches away from the singers.

If that's not a bona fide Surrealistic moment, what is?

Watching the concert, which was amazing, by the way, I decided maybe this guy and I could have a future. The rest, I believe, is history, because we married about a year and two months later and have been married ever since.

I guess this is where I admit I owe this good fortune to the Indigo Girls, capricious as it was. Would I have married him without them? Let's just say... sometimes you need a push from the universe. Fortunately, I got one.

If you have a surrealistic moment that changed your life, I'd love to hear it. You can either comment here or send it to me via my website at jennazark.com.

Kids at Your Wedding? Read to 'em

Two weeks ago, I wrote a post about marriage and mentioned a book I read (to my son) during the wedding. Readers have asked me more about the book, so this week I’m naming names and giving you the scoop:

First – in case you’re having a wedding this month and need to read a story (to your kid or anyone else’s) – my choice was (and still would be) The Queen Who Couldn’t Bake Gingerbread by Dorothy Van Woerkom. I found it at the library a few weeks before getting married and fell instantly in love.

I think the story resonated with me because I was coming out of at least a year’s time as a single mom and afraid I’d lose my independence. Reading it, I realized that even though picture books are structured simply, that doesn't mean they have to be simple minded. 

The Queen who Couldn't Bake Gingerbread focuses on King Pilaf, who is trying to find a wise, beautiful wife—who can, of course, bake a mean gingerbread. He turns down two stereotypical princess choices and ends up with a more down-to-earth wife called Princess Calliope. She is looking for a husband who is wise, handsome and plays the slide trombone.

As Calliope can’t bake gingerbread and Pilaf can’t play trombone; they agree never to mention these words again. Things go pretty well until one day they erupt at each other. But after their quarrel, the king decides to bake his own gingerbread—and the queen starts to play slide trombone.

Ultimately, they discover they can have a very happy marriage while giving themselves what they want. As soon as I read the story, I realized it was exactly what I wanted—as a writer, mother and wife. Husband, son and guests agreed (and if they didn’t, I didn’t know it.)

Other favorite picture books my son and I loved – pre and post wedding:

Sam’s Worries

Sam worries about possible earthquakes, volcanoes and witches. He confides his worries to his teddy bear, who comes up with a great solution: Sam can go to sleep and the bear will stay up all night worrying. Then Sam can worry all day (which of course he forgets to do, because he’s busy at school). This is a perfect book for an inveterate worrier (and her children) – even if you don’t have a teddy bear. In fact, a cat will do very well (and I bet a dog will, too).

Amadi’s Snowman by Katia Novet Saint-Lot

Full disclosure: I met Amadi’s author at a book conference once and heard bits and pieces of this story before it was published. What I didn’t anticipate was how intriguing the book would be. Amadi and his family live in Nigeria and though he doesn’t see the sense in reading, he runs into an older boy reading in secret (which is, of course, the best way to discover anything). The book piques his curiosity about a snowman and opens up a world that changes his life.  What I love most about this book is the author’s voice, which is beguiling but never preachy. Illustrations are gorgeous, too.

The Nightgown of the Sullen Moon by Nancy Willard

“But the moon’s promises, what are they worth?”

That may be one of my all-time favorite lines, and this book about the moon becoming obsessed with a flannel nightgown is one of the most enchanting stories I’ve ever read. So much so, I wish I’d written it.

I’d also highly recommend Mama, Do you Love Me? by Barbara Joosse about a child testing limits and her mother’s unconditional love and Love You Forever by Robert Munsch about the undying connection between a mother and son. My son and I read that at least a bazillion times, and teared up every time.

We’ll get to the tween favorites later, but if you want to share any of your favorite picture books, well… you know. DO.

Scared Rabbit's Guide to Marriage

It’s a word I’m scared of, or at least scared of writing about. But I’m celebrating my wedding anniversary this week and don’t want to be shy or coy about that today. Still, it wasn’t on the list of things I’d thought I’d achieve–at least not at my wedding.

(Full disclosure: second wedding). I kept thinking, is this something I can even do? Seeing the light in my young son and soon to be husband’s eyes made me want to do it. But that didn’t mean I thought I could.

Marriage. What does it mean? Some people say “journey” or “commitment” which always sound like euphemisms to me. Some are repulsed by the idea of living with someone until they grow old or of monogamy. Others race to the altar, desperate to rid themselves of even the idea of being alone.

And some want the ideal of marriage but know that crumbles the very second you get home from the wedding. Why? 

Either we’ve seen too many movies or not enough. In the end I think it comes down to wanting someone who really knows you, flaws and all, and loves you madly anyway; and someone who feels like your own skin, only better. A best friend with sexy parts that can still make you laugh on a bad day. Not to mention soulmate.

Say what?

If you walked into a store and ordered a product like that, what would they tell you? "Can you invent one?" 

I guess you can always try. But at our wedding (pictured above), I wanted to try something new. We read a story to my son about a prince and princess who figured out that instead of being everything to each other, they could find their best selves. Doing so would give them the ability to enjoy (rather than save) each other. The story resonated with me and I've always tried to keep it, floating somewhere, throughout the marriage. Has it worked?

I think it has, she says, having just had  a really fun weekend with her guy. (We also made vows before the official ceremony, promising not to die (!) and to always have fun. So far, those promises have held.)

So, Jenna, is there a takeaway here?

I have absolutely no idea. No books, articles or links to recommend, either. The only thing I can really give you (beside my ramblings) is a quote from a Marlene Dietrich film: “Love is like gambling. If you’re not lucky, you shouldn’t even sit down at the table.”

If you do sit down, though, I hope you find someone as kind, funny and wonderful as I did. Looking back on it now, I should have bought more lottery tickets, because this gamble somehow, (against all odds) turned out well for me.

Am I crazy? Probably, if only in thinking I could win at that table. Lucky for me, I did.

Family photo

Girl hiding face: Meg Wills

Marriage, Millennials and their Kids: What's Up with That?

In 1958, when Ruby Tabeata’s story unfolds in Greenwich Village, most parents were married to each other. That fact ends up causing a lot of trouble for Ruby in TheBeat on Ruby’s Street, though we wouldn’t blink about it today.

While many gay couples have fought long and hard to marry, most research is showing that the new generation of heterosexual couples are not celebrating their relationships with wedding ceremonies. The 2015 U.S. Wedding Forecast from Demographic Intelligence shows a marriage rate of 6.74 per 1,000 people this year, with the number expected to fall slightly lower over each of the next two years. 

In 2008, the marriage rate in America was 7.09. A Pew Research Center report recently pointed out one-fourth of millennials are likely to avoid marriage entirely. Yet when gay friends marry, the ceremonies seem beautiful and full of promise. Why shouldn’t the same be true for heterosexual couples? Are they afraid of divorce?

I do have a lot of friends who say their parents or they themselves divorced. Matter of fact, I belong to that club too, and raised my son as a single parent for a few years until I remarried.

Now, the rate of marital decline makes me wonder if my own son will have a wedding in his future. (At the age of eight, he told me he didn’t want a wife but would definitely adopt a child. ) I look back on the unhappy years before and during my divorce and feel guilty about putting my son through them. I hope the subsequent years when his dad and I were both happily married will make him braver about finding a relationship.

And you do have to be brave to find one. When the man who is now my husband asked me to get married, I thought long and hard about it. If you've been through divorce, you know how bad it can make you feel, not just about your relationships, but about everything. 

I had known Pete for several years as a friend and knew I was happy being with him. I had other friends who kept relationships going as single moms without getting married, but I kept coming back to the dialogue I wrote for my play A Body of Water. One woman tells her friend she didn't want pictures at her wedding, so she doesn't have to compare her memory of the celebration to what actually occurred.

Her friend replies: 

"I like having something to look at because... I feel like I've accomplished something. You make a promise and you commit yourself and... that's important. Of course you take a risk but... who knows? Maybe the picture won't be as good. Maybe you'll like real life better. You might be better friends than you were at first. Because you can't always do that in the beginning. You want too much."

In the end, I decided that getting married a second time meant I believed the person I'd chosen would make my life stronger, so our friendship would grow--and that would grow our love as well.

That doesn’t mean I think we all have to be married. But if you ask if I hope my kids gets married, I would say I sure hope he finds what I did--and that it gets better with time.

For more information on marriage statistics, visit http://national.deseretnews.com/article/4535/US-marriage-rate-hits-new-low-and-may-continue-to-decline.html#XTEPElcZfFjWb8mA.99.

Cherries: banoootah_qtr

Couple: Dragunsk Usf