I’m preparing for a big adventure. This week I am traveling to Chicago to attend the annual convention of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. That’s the organization of Reform Rabbis in North America. I’ll see old friends, we’ll study and pray and tell tall tales, and it will be grand. The night of April 1, I’m going to shave my head.
This is the first time I’ve traveled so far in a long time, and I am a bit nervous about it. You see, my world has gotten rather small in the last few years due to troubles with chronic pain and arthritis. Nowadays, if I want to go farther than a couple of blocks, or if I am going to need to stand in line, I use a scooter. This will be the first time I’ve traveled with it. So there is a lot on my mind: the airports, the airplane, transport from O’Hare to the hotel, the reactions of colleagues when they see me on wheels — it goes on an on. I’m still self-conscious about using this thing. But if I don’t use it, I can’t go. And I am tired of letting my life get smaller; I have work to do!
I had coffee today with a friend who is an old hand at wheelchair travel. He was very encouraging – I might say he even gave me a gentle little kick in the tuchus. It’s easy to hide at home, but there is too much life to be lived, too much Torah for me to live, to give in to that impulse. I’m glad we had coffee, and I’m going to keep him in my heart as I buzz down the hallways of OAK and ORD and down the sidewalks in Chicago.
So wish me luck! Life is about to get really interesting.
Good for you, Rabbi Adar!! You have exactly the right attitude. My sweetheart of nearly 17 years, Jon, has the same sorts of physical challenges (constant pain and terrible arthritis), and somehow he also keeps on going (currently on crutches). I wish you a wonderful trip.
Also, I’d like to say that I really look forward to reading your blog posts each day. They are all good, but I found the very recent post about the drought here in California, and your former citrus-farmer congregants who must decide which trees to save and which ones they must sacrifice, so poignant and moving. I think of them often now when I turn on the faucet, and try to always conserve water.
Thank you, Liz! And thank you for being a regular reader – I appreciate that more than I can say.
Vous rédigez continuellement des posts passionnants
Јe suis entièrement du même avis que toi