Home
In this issue
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 Dec. 7, 2011 / 11 Kislev, 5772

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

By Sharon Randall




http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | It's a long way from South Carolina to Las Vegas. My sister doesn't get to visit us often. So when I heard she was coming for 10 days, I began to plan.

The first five days were easy. We spent Thanksgiving in California with my children and grandchildren, fighting over who got to hold which baby for how long. Then we flew to Vegas and she settled into our guest room for five more days.

A three-hour gap in time zones kept us on different schedules. At night, she'd be surfing channels when I was ready to crash. Come morning, I'd be up drinking coffee, waiting for her to stir.

Between waking and sleeping, we did what we always do -- eat, talk and laugh. And she watched a lot of TV with my husband, a man she had once warned me about: "If you don't marry him," she'd said, "I will."

He suggested taking her to The Gun Store to shoot Uzis.

"What?" I said. "She'd never do that! It costs too much."

I wanted to take her to all my favorite places: Valley of Fire, Red Rock Canyon, Trader Joe's.

But every morning, we'd talk over coffee. Then I'd make Dutch babies and we'd talk some more. We'd have pizza for lunch with more talk. And then it was time for dinner. Story of my life.

Finally, I said, "Let's go see the Bellagio's Christmas exhibit."

"OK," she said, "I'll shower."

Three hours later, we were on our way -- until I stopped for gas, sloshed gasoline all over me and had to go back to change.

When we finally got to the Bellagio, imagine my surprise to find that the exhibit didn't open until the weekend. My sister just laughed. She's like that, easy.

"Let's go eat," she said.

The next day we decided to see a matinee ("Killer Elite") at a theater I had never been to.

There are many fine, state-of-the-art theaters in Vegas. This was not one of them. It was located in a part of town you don't see in ads, except maybe ads for tattoos or bail bonds.

My sister insisted on buying the tickets. They cost a dollar apiece. So did the hotdogs. One for me. Two for her. Two tickets, three hotdogs, five bucks. Who needs state-of-the-art?

We were early. The screen was dark. But we were not alone. Sprawled around us were a half-dozen men, all sleeping. Some had backpacks and bedrolls. A few had removed their shoes.

I began to question what sort of theater this was? What if the film we were about to see was not what we expected? What if it proved to be a bit more "action packed" than we had hoped?

Never have I been so glad to see Robert De Niro's face appear on screen. I can't recall the plot, but the audience was riveting.

A fight broke out in back, but after several tense moments of swapping profanities, they had the courtesy to take it outside.

My sister didn't seem to notice a patron on her right who kept beaming a flashlight on the back of her neck. I decided if it didn't bother her, it didn't bother me.

Halfway into the movie, a big, burly man lumbered down the aisle, plopped down beside me and began slurping popcorn.

When he leaned over to whisper in my ear, I screamed. No one, not even my own sister, seemed to notice. Or care.

"What's the name of this movie?" he said.

I told him. He left. And I vowed to be a better person.

When the movie ended, I told my sister to hurry.

"Afraid we'll get mugged?" she said, snickering.

"I'm more afraid of the hotdogs," I said. "You had two."

The good news is we were fine. The bad news is, the next day, my sister had to leave.

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

Maybe next time, we'll shoot Uzis.

Every weekday JewishWorldReview.com publishes what many in in the media and Washington consider "must-reading". Sign up for the daily JWR update. It's free. Just click here.

Comment by clicking here.


Previously:


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



© 2011, SCRIPPS HOWARD NEWS SERVICE

Columnists

Toons

Lifestyles