New Children’s Book Imparts Message of Empathy

By Jane Sutton

Thanksgivukkah! It’ll be 70,000 years until Hanukkah and Thanksgiving coincide again. With my triglicerides level, I don’t think I’ll be around to see it. Everyone is chuckling about this crazy coincidence. Me? I’m not laughing. You see, my new Hanukkah book, “Esther’s Hanukkah Disaster,” which I’ve waited decades to come out—seriously, I first came up with the plot in 1983!—was released on Sept. 1. The book seemed charmed: It’s my eighth published book, and there are eight nights of Hanukkah. Awaiting the publication date, I was elated, thrilled, kvelling! But then I heard about Hanukkah’s extraordinarily early arrival this year, hence my early timeframe for contacting bookstores, libraries, temples, Jewish community centers, schools, blogs, newspapers and all my relatives in New Jersey. (Basically my time window is as puny as a porthole on a really low-budget cruise.) In other years, I might have had a whole extra month to let the world know about my sweet little book.

But when I calmed down, I realized this coincidence is pretty cool, and perhaps even bashert. Hanukkah and Thanksgiving were already two of my favorite holidays. And the true meaning of Hanukkah, which is one of the messages I seek to impart in my book, has a lot in common with that of Thanksgiving: thinking about others.

In my book, Esther the gorilla sets out shopping at the last minute and buys her friends what turn out to be ridiculously inappropriate gifts, whereas her friends give her considerate gifts. To rectify her own thoughtlessness, Esther hosts a joyful party on the eighth night of Hanukkah, during which her friends get to swap for gifts that suit them. This emphasis on valuing empathy is inherent in both Hanukkah and Thanksgiving: We encourage giving to charity at Hanukkah and doing for others. And the spirit of Thanksgiving involves sharing with the needy. Plus, in both celebrations, families and friends cooperate (we hope) to make scrumptious meals (more on the meals later).

Although Esther’s misadventures involve gifts, she and her friends realize that the true meaning of Hanukkah is not in the gift-giving (“Presents schmesents!” says Josephine the turtle) but in commemorating the Maccabees’ victory and the miracle of that little jug of oil. I imagine that gathering their first successful harvest felt like a miracle to the Pilgrims and Wampanoags. Both holidays provide chances to give thanks: for the restoring of the temple, for the harvest and for religious freedom.

Esther and her friends have so much fun singing Hanukkah songs, eating latkes and just being together that she almost forgets about her gift-swapping plan. This joy of gathering with friends and relatives, often multi-generational, is definitely something both holidays share, especially if your uncle—you know the one—doesn’t get started on politics.

Back to the meals! Both holidays have delicious, very specific traditional foods. We don’t usually eat many of the menu items during the rest of the year, which not only makes them seem special but keeps our cholesterol levels in check. Some of my personal unhealthful favorites? Latkes, slathered in sour cream! A roast turkey thigh with crispy brown skin! Oops, I just drooled on my keyboard.

So, despite my initial panic in terms of book marketing, I’ve come to embrace Thanksgivukkah. It will double the joy this year. Plus, Hanukkah still has seven nights to shine on its own.

Jane Sutton grew up (although never completely) in Roslyn, Long Island, where she wrote stories from a young age. She graduated from Brandeis University with a B.A. in comparative literature. Author of eight children’s books, Jane is also a writing tutor, school presenter and teaches a community education class on how to write for kids. She and her husband live in Lexington. Her two grown children live in the Boston area.

Five Things My Young Kids Have Taught Me

By Stephanie Kanowitz for Kveller

I always assumed that being a parent meant teaching my children the basic skills–and with luck, perhaps a few extras they’d need to become productive members of society. As it turns out, I’m learning just as much about life from them. Remember that book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten? I think the lessons start much earlier. Here are some that I’ve learned:

Lesson 1. Be yourself. Somewhere along the way, we–or at least I–got caught up in worrying about how others see us. We put on our best face and maybe if we’re starting to wear our hearts on our sleeve, we throw on a cardigan. I’m not advocating for throwing public temper tantrums or sob fests, but I’ve noticed that if my kids are tired or otherwise having a cranky day, they don’t hide their feelings and most people cut them slack. As adults, we’re quick to dismiss others as rude or snobby when they might simply be having a bad day.

Perhaps one of the worst places for a kid to lose it is on a typical commercial airliner when 100-plus people are stuck riding out the tantrum. When I flew alone with both my kids (ages 3 and 1), from Virginia to Florida, I felt prepared for anything. Except for what I got: My daughter, Ellie, decided to flip out at the end of the flight.

I spent the descent trying–mostly unsuccessfully–to catch my daughter’s vomit in a barf bag. If anyone made negative comments while Screampuke Fest 2013 was happening, I didn’t hear them. I couldn’t have because Ellie’s hysteria set her brother off, too–although he kept his cookies in. When the plane landed, it would have been easy, understandable even, for everyone on that full flight to bolt past us fleeing the screaming and the smell. But a man clad in a business suit stopped and offered to take one of my carry-ons off for me. He didn’t take my daughter’s behavior personally, and he didn’t judge me for not getting her under control. He just smiled and took my bag to the jet bridge.

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When Your Toddlers Start to Act Like Teens

By Alina Adams for Kveller

There is a saying that the way your kids were as toddlers is how they’ll be as teens. (Only bigger and louder and, in some places, with the legal right to drive.)

If that’s true, then we’re really in for some fun times over at my house.

When my oldest was a toddler, he didn’t talk much. But–Bad Mommy confession–we really didn’t notice until our pediatrician got a concerned look on her face and started asking questions while taking notes and measuring the size of his head (boy had a really big head. Literally off the charts big. He still does). I think the reason we didn’t notice his lack of verbiage (and no, not only because as our friends suggested, between my husband and I, the poor kid never had a chance to get a word in edgewise, ahem) was primarily because he never got frustrated at not being able to make himself understood. Whatever he wanted, he went ahead and got. He’d climb up on chairs or head-dive into his playpen to reach a toy. He’d open the refrigerator and retrieve a sippy cup of milk. When a television production job took me out of town for extended periods of time, he expressed his displeasure at my career choices by simply ignoring me on my days home. “Mommy? Who is this Mommy person of which you speak? I don’t see any Mommy.”

So, to extrapolate:

Independence = Good. Silent treatment = Less Good. Daredevil lack of need to ask for permission before embarking on less than wise courses of action? Something to be on the lookout for.

My middle son was a completely different child. (As I described in the blog on my kids’ names, we might as well have named him, “Not Adam,” as that was inevitably people’s response to him.) My middle son was chattering away in understandable sentences by the age of 1. Which meant he was ready, willing and able to argue. Anything. And if he found he couldn’t outtalk his foes (in the end, he was still 1 year old; we were a couple of decades ahead of him), he’d throw tantrums, complete with plates of food being flung on the floor, books and toys flying off shelves, and sheets ripped off the beds to be piled in a heap in the center of his room. (Ironically, experts will tell you that tantrums are for non-verbal children irritated at not being heard. Those experts do not live at my house.)

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Modeling An Attitude of Gratitude for Our Kids

By Shari Churwin for ThanksgivukkahBoston
There’s something particularly Jewish about Thanksgiving and quintessentially American at the same time. Thanksgiving brings us together. This year, the Jewish/American connection is even stronger as we light the second candle of Hanukkah on Thanksgiving. Football, turkey and latkes…oh my!

I know you’re not going to believe this, but the Hebrew word for “turkey” and “to thank” are the same: hodu. Also, the original pilgrim Thanksgiving Day was modeled on the Jewish harvest holiday of Sukkot, which we celebrated just last month. Even as you look at the English word, “thanksgiving,” you can see two essentially Jewish elements: thanks and giving. The very American holiday of Thanksgiving even fits into the general summary of virtually all Jewish holidays: They tried to kill us (in this case “they” was the harsh winter), we survived, let’s eat! Yes, Thanksgiving is a very Jewish holiday indeed.

At this time of year, giving thanks comes in many different forms. I am reminded that, as Jews, we are supposed to live each day with what Dr. Abraham Joshua Heschel called “an attitude of gratitude.” Our task as parents is to find our own unique ways to teach this to our children and to find the 100 blessings in each and every day.

We each have personal reasons that we are thankful. We need to model this attitude for our children by counting our blessings out loud for all to appreciate. My children—twins ages 7 and daughter age 10—sometimes (well, let’s be honest, often!) need reminders that not everyone can put a bountiful turkey dinner on their table. Both Thanksgiving and Hanukkah give us a real opportunity to show our children how to give back to the community. Why not use canned goods as Thanksgiving table decorations and then donate them to your favorite food bank or women’s shelter? I’m sure you can find your own unique ways to give back with your children, family and friends.

As my family and I sit down to a delicious Hanukkah dinner on Thanksgiving afternoon, we will each share our blessings and remind one another how truly lucky we are.

Shari Churwin is the education director at Temple Ohabei Shalom in Brookline. Shari is dedicated to exploring ways in which Jewish values can be integrated into our daily lives and creating a learning environment in which each individual child, and his or her family, can grow to their fullest potential. Shari and her husband, Mike, live in Brookline with their three beautiful daughters.