EDDY'S PAGE
by Eddy Robey M.A.

March is a month for all sorts of entertainment. Most of us are planning silly hats and costumes for Purim celebrations, and all are looking forward to gift baskets filled with Hamantashen. Bulbs are peeking up, and this year's first flower shows are full of colorful tulips. Lucky children have mothers who understand not only the fun of puddle-splashing during Spring rains, but also the great necessity for warm cocoa and cookies after such muddy excursions. We enjoy the Hollywood puffery of Oscar competition, and are inspired by the invincible hope demonstrated during New Orleans' Mardi Gras parades.

I am ever more protective of opportunities for gladness. There are dire situations happening all around us, and it seems as though every other email in my box is a plea for help with some crisis. No matter the happy occasion, someone is there to kick-off the festivities with a reminder of bad things in the world. It is as though we should feel guilty for experiencing joy, unless the requisite dues are paid to misery.

I am not suggesting we should forget misfortune. Indeed, that would be impossible for any extended period. However, it is important that we open our hearts to wonder and gratitude.

During the last month, I traveled across the country to spend time caring for my dearest relative, a lady who is eighty-seven years old, and recuperating from a bad fall. Chances to grin were all around me. What a pleasure it was to know that my efforts in the kitchen were able to tempt her appetite, and coax a small weight gain. We spent time chatting, watching classic films together on television, and sharing hugs. On Shabbas, I lit candles in lovely cloisonne holders atop an antique table, before enjoying a meal which included gifts from a loving neighbor. There were many games of catch-the-ball with her little dog, who never failed to amuse us with her capacity for fun.

Yes, we dealt with plenty of discomfort, but it was lightened by love. My heart was grateful for the trust she placed in knowing that I would enjoy being with her, no matter the distance or difficulties involved. Now, my cousin Edie is in the hospital, getting over an infection. We chatter on the telephone about her pretty flowers and my upcoming plans for a short vacation. I have sent her a colorful pillow covered with butterflies. Her body may not soar with them, but her spirit can. No moment must be wasted. We are both aware of how precious is this time of smiles.