Ohio day 1

September 10

In the middle of the night last night Razelle woke me to ask for the key to the van. She couldn't breathe because of an allergic reaction to something in the room, perhaps in the carpet. She went out to the van and slept there the rest of the night. I chose to sleep where I was. I went to the door of the house and locked it after I saw that she had gotten settled comfortably in the van. In the morning she called to be let back in. The van was parked on a nice flat spot behind Miriam's house and the night was cool. Razelle slept so soundly out there and I slept so "soundlessly" where I was that we didn't consider this to be such an "unthinkable" arrangement. We are growing to appreciate the van more and more.

We went to Temple B'nai Israel (Conservative) this morning for Shabbat services. My GPS was programmed to take us there, but we followed Miriam and she drove a route that she preferred (which differed from the GPS routing). We arrived during the Torah reading service in time to pray for the sick. This congregation invites those invoking this prayer to come up to the bima (prayer table). This time, Miriam herself was personally present to hear me state her name, as I have done at every congregation we have visited around the world whenever possible. This pleased me very much. She knows I have been praying for her health, but she got to hear it this time. We exchanged smiles across the sanctuary as I turned to walk back to our seats and sit between her and Razelle.

This is the congregation I grew up in, and so much of my personal Jewish history is connected to this specific institution. It's not the same building, and not many of its congregants are familiar to me, but I am still tied to it, emotionally. This Saturday morning there was no bar or bat mitzvah, and their young charismatic cantor, who I'd met during previous visits, has moved to a new position elsewhere. His fresh replacement has not been here long enough to earn the kind of following his predecessor had, so attendance was not very large. I met several among the faithful regulars, however, who I knew from way back when. Judy has relatives in Honolulu; she was pleasantly surprised when we passed greetings from them to her. Several of the mothers of my friends were there to tell me of their children's exploits in the far-flung towns they have scattered to. I met only a couple of my contemporaries: a former member of my scout troop and the grandson of our venerated Rabbi Emeritus. I was made privy to a little gossip about acquaintances who were not there to defend themselves. But, really, there were so few people I could personally relate to during this visit that I was a bit under-whelmed. At the Kiddush I was even "bumped" from the table I'd put my plate on, next to Razelle, by a congregant who had no idea who I was and who had saved that place for someone more important to her. Her loss.

Miriam drove to Mom's nursing home directly from the synagogue with us following her (still dressed in our Sabbath best, of course). After I parked the van I found Mom's room. Miriam and Razelle had gone in ahead of me. Mom did not seem to be in good shape at all. She looked so weak as she lay in her bed with her eyes shut and her mouth open in what appeared to be a pained expression. She spoke without moving her mouth and only Miriam was able to decipher what the sounds meant. She smiled but her smile was not an obvious smile until Miriam told her to close her mouth and smile nicely. Then a beautiful smile graced her face. This reassured us that we were getting somewhere. What Mom said was lucid and on topic, but it petered out before the thought could be completed. She knew who we were and she showed that she valued our company. Miriam soon had to leave us alone with Mom, so we made the best of it without our interpreter – but it was so awkward that we all fell into silence because we didn't know what to say next. Without audible input from us to keep her going, Mom simply began to snore. We tried to wake her up for more conversation but it was not fruitful. We left, feeling bad about the whole visit.

I called Debbie, who I knew from synagogue youth activities and who had gone to a comedy club with Miriam, Ivan and me during my last visit. She and her husband David invited us to visit them at their home a short distance away. They live in a very nice neighborhood that I don't think existed when we were growing up. We sat with them and related the details of our trip. Their son had also traveled to distant lands and had written a blog about his travels. I have to remember to ask her for the URL so I can read his blog. Their children have done a lot of traveling, so they were fascinated with the details of our own trip and how I had put it together. David remarked that he had the impression Israel was a dangerous place to live. Razelle responded by pointing out that where Debbie and David lived seemed to be even more dangerous because they had so little protection from break-ins on their doors and windows and the homes in this neighborhood were so isolated one from the other. That made her feel far more insecure than living in Israel ever has.

We gave them the usual tour of our van to show them its features. Razelle loves to show everyone what she has been enduring all these weeks. We then parted from Debbie and David and drove through Ottawa Hills where I used to go jogging as a university student with Monte and Bill, then past the University of Toledo itself. A relative of Razelle's lives a few blocks from here and was once an administrator of this, my Alma Mater. We weren't sure how to locate him until Judy at the Kiddush gave us the information that I needed to look him up on the Internet. She knew him from working there as a member of the academic staff. We found his home but there was no answer when I rang the bell. I went next door and knocked there. They answered and knew how to get in touch with Razelle's relatives. We called the number we were given and Razelle spoke with them while they themselves were traveling to North Carolina. That was the best Razelle could do. I still can't get over how freely the neighbors gave out the information they did.

We returned to Miriam and Ivan's for the evening meal. Miriam served chicken with sweet potato, along with the left over roast beef from the night before, saved just for me. I had a lot of catching up to do with my blog and it was foremost on my mind. I had fallen so far behind that it was weighing on my conscience. While they were talking and watching TV and I was writing and poking my tongue into the pit where my lost tooth had once been I felt the stitches fall out of my gums and onto my tongue. Eureka! This made me a pretty happy camper. I also was conscious of the fact that the swelling in my cheek had gone down perceptibly. These facts combined led me to believe that I had turned a corner with this tooth business. I was finally recovering. I was now optimistic for the first time that the end of my tooth ordeal was finally at hand.

I went to bed feeling good about this. Razelle retired to the van one more night. I walked out there with her and watched her get settled then returned to the house. I still had some more writing to do and I wanted to take advantage of the electricity in the house. Unfortunately, I fell asleep writing and didn't get much of it done. I climbed the stairs in sleepy resignation and went to bed.