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April 9, 2014

Jonathan Tobin: Why Did Kerry Lie About Israeli Blame?

Samuel G. Freedman: A resolution 70 years later for a father's unsettling legacy of ashes from Dachau

Jessica Ivins: A resolution 70 years later for a father's unsettling legacy of ashes from Dachau

Kim Giles: Asking for help is not weakness

Kathy Kristof and Barbara Hoch Marcus: 7 Great Growth Israeli Stocks

Matthew Mientka: How Beans, Peas, And Chickpeas Cleanse Bad Cholesterol and Lowers Risk of Heart Disease

Sabrina Bachai: 5 At-Home Treatments For Headaches

The Kosher Gourmet by Daniel Neman Have yourself a matzo ball: The secrets bubby never told you and recipes she could have never imagined

April 8, 2014

Lori Nawyn: At Your Wit's End and Back: Finding Peace

Susan B. Garland and Rachel L. Sheedy: Strategies Married Couples Can Use to Boost Benefits

David Muhlbaum: Smart Tax Deductions Non-Itemizers Can Claim

Jill Weisenberger, M.S., R.D.N., C.D.E : Before You Lose Your Mental Edge

Dana Dovey: Coffee Drinkers Rejoice! Your Cup Of Joe Can Prevent Death From Liver Disease

Chris Weller: Electric 'Thinking Cap' Puts Your Brain Power Into High Gear

The Kosher Gourmet by Marlene Parrish A gift of hazelnuts keeps giving --- for a variety of nutty recipes: Entree, side, soup, dessert

April 4, 2014

Rabbi David Gutterman: The Word for Nothing Means Everything

Charles Krauthammer: Kerry's folly, Chapter 3

Amy Peterson: A life of love: How to build lasting relationships with your children

John Ericson: Older Women: Save Your Heart, Prevent Stroke Don't Drink Diet

John Ericson: Why 50 million Americans will still have spring allergies after taking meds

Cameron Huddleston: Best and Worst Buys of April 2014

Stacy Rapacon: Great Mutual Funds for Young Investors

Sarah Boesveld: Teacher keeps promise to mail thousands of former students letters written by their past selves

The Kosher Gourmet by Sharon Thompson Anyone can make a salad, you say. But can they make a great salad? (SECRETS, TESTED TECHNIQUES + 4 RECIPES, INCLUDING DRESSINGS)

April 2, 2014

Paul Greenberg: Death and joy in the spring

Dan Barry: Should South Carolina Jews be forced to maintain this chimney built by Germans serving the Nazis?

Mayra Bitsko: Save me! An alien took over my child's personality

Frank Clayton: Get happy: 20 scientifically proven happiness activities

Susan Scutti: It's Genetic! Obesity and the 'Carb Breakdown' Gene

Lecia Bushak: Why Hand Sanitizer May Actually Harm Your Health

Stacy Rapacon: Great Funds You Can Own for $500 or Less

Cameron Huddleston: 7 Ways to Save on Home Decor

The Kosher Gourmet by Steve Petusevsky Exploring ingredients as edible-stuffed containers (TWO RECIPES + TIPS & TECHINQUES)

Jewish World Review May 10, 2012/ 18 Iyar, 5772

Some people water your soul --- a storm worth waiting for

By Sharon Randall




http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | Two days ago, I sat on my sister's porch in South Carolina, listening to a rooster crow in the woods, and waiting for rain. I expected it to show up soon. The rain, not the rooster.

The clouds looked like water balloons ready to burst, snagging on the limbs of the hickories and magnolias. The breeze was barely a whisper, rustling the leaves of the camellias by the porch.

It was the kind of stillness that comes just before a rain, when the air lays heavy on your skin, thick enough to cut with a butter knife, cool enough to raise the hair on the back of your neck.

I grew up with that kind of stillness, sitting in a porch swing waiting for the gathering storm.

Then I spent 20 years on the coast of California, rearing three children and getting to know a different kind of stillness called fog. The difference is this: You don't wait for fog to arrive. You watch it roll in, swallowing everything in its path. Then you wait, and hope, for it to leave.

Having lived all my life with water vapor of one kind or another, I never dreamed I'd end up living in a desert. Actually, I never dreamed I'd do a lot of things I've done. It's worth waking up each day just to see what will happen next.

Six years ago, soon after we were married, my new husband took a new job in a new (to us) place where fog is unheard of, rain is unlikely and the standard forecast is "abundant sunshine."

It does rain in Las Vegas (it can even snow in winter), but there's not much point in sitting around waiting for it, because by the time it starts, it's over.

That may be overstating it a bit, but not much. I've found lots of things to like about the desert (my hair dries in half the time), but a lack of precipitation is not one of them.

I miss rain. I miss fog, too, but not a lot. It's funny the things we miss as we grow older.

Take my sister, for example. When she was 12 and I was 6, she never wanted me around. She says she did, but she can't fool me. If you want someone around, you don't send her out to look for the dollar you claim you hid in the poison-oak patch.

But that's all behind us now. We live 2,119 miles apart (yes, I Googled it), so we don't get to visit as often as we'd like. But when we're together, it's like rain after a drought, a cool drink when you're thirsty. Some people water your soul.

She thinks I'm crazy for the way I love rain. (She thinks I'm crazy for a lot of reasons.) But if it makes me happy, she wants it, too. So last week, when I went to visit her, we kept watching the clouds, waiting for rain.

It never showed up. Neither did the rooster. We still had fun without them. I could have fun with my sister looking for a dollar in a poison-oak patch.

Yesterday, when it was time to leave, she hugged my neck.

"Don't go, Sissy," she said.

"I'll be back," I promised.

Then I drove to the airport, returned the rental car and caught a flight home to Vegas.

Tonight, when I sat down at my desk to work, a funny thing happened. I heard a rumbling. Imagine my surprise to look out at the mountains and see lightning crackle across the sky.

So I went out on the porch and sat in a swing to wait for the rain. Soon my husband brought a blanket out and joined me.

We sat for an hour, watching the play of lightning, laughing at the roll of thunder, smelling the sweet breath of the approaching storm. Finally, it began to rain. Not a lot, but enough. When it stopped, we kept swinging, soaking up the memory.

Then we went back inside where he watched the Giants lose to the Stinkin' Dodgers.

And I called my sister.

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Previously:


Driving country roads helps restore hope

Confessions of a bad-weather magnet

The new star of my husband's harem

Shared family moments are precious, irreplaceable

What I'll remember from serving on the jury in a murder case

When someone walks into your life and never lets you go

Look for beauty

We can't always 'be there' when we're needed

Picture-perfect memories

To love someone is to want to hear all their stories

With age should come at least some wisdom

A story for my grandson

Regretting she didn't help out a woman in need

Post-holiday-visit blues

For 2012, tuck some hope into your wallet

The measure of a time well spent is not where you went or what you did. It's the way you smile remembering it

Treating people we love like the Jello salad at Thanksgiving dinner

We all need something or someone to pull for

Hold on to treasured words, don't trust memory

A storybook princess

Love reaches forward, never back

How to Watch a Sunset

Waiting often comes with gifts

An exceptional book club

There is no guilt in moving forward

Celebrations full of love and buttercream

It takes a whole village of shoes to raise a child

The best stories always tell us who we are

Stop, look back . . . and listen

The great outdoors, if one's lucky, a rock-solid companion

An iChat with my grandson

Lightening bugs and other things make us glow

Each and every Fourth of July a cause for celebration



© 2012, SCRIPPS HOWARD NEWS SERVICE

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