That’s life 8-20

There was an article in Newsday last week about peach picking opportunities on Long Island. We go apple picking every year and have gone berry picking as well, but we have never picked peaches nor have I even seen a peach tree on Long Island.

Farm-fresh fruits and vegetables taste and smell differently than anything you buy in the supermarket. I love buying produce straight from the farm. An opportunity to show my kids that fruit grows on trees and not on the supermarket shelf is something I didn't want to pass up. With that in mind, we packed up our car as if we were going away for six months and headed down the highway. No matter if we are going away for a week, driving upstate and back in the same day to see our kids in camp, or going to see my brother in New Jersey, at the end of the day, my car looks (and smells) like it has been through a war. I still cannot figure out why that is, but I digress.

By the time we were about 10 minutes away from our destination, our kids were getting antsy. “Are we there yet?” is one of the most dreaded comments to hear on a long car ride besides, “I think I’m gonna be sick,” and we heard both during our ride. Years ago, my brother-in-law and his family were on a family trip. One of their kids asked, “Are we there yet?” With only farmland around them and long stretches of country road ahead and behind them, my brother-in-law responded, “Yeah – we’re just looking for parking.” Still a great line.

To pass the little time we had left, I told our kids to look out the window for cows. I didn’t think we would really find cows on Long Island, but it was worth a shot. No cows were found, but we came upon some beautiful horses. “Look at the horses!” I said and everyone peered out the window.

“Can we get a horse?” asked my four-year-old daughter, who has never seen something she did not want to buy. “Um, no” I responded. “We don’t have enough room in the backyard.”

That’s me – sarcastic and practical, all at the same time. The conversation, however, did not end there.

One thing I have struggled to teach my children is the concept of muktzah. They understand it in terms of things they cannot touch or play with on Shabbos, and we try to discuss the electricity issue, etc.  Life, however, is full of temptations and the piano in our living room could be an entire episode of Temptation Island. Let’s just say, there’s a disconnect.

Back in the car, the discussion of the horse continued. “Is a horse muktzah?” asked my older son. My husband confirmed that yes, it was. “But a dog isn’t muktzah,” my son countered, thinking of all of the friends we have who have dogs, “so why is a horse muktzah?”  Even before we could begin to explain this one, my younger son piped up.

“It’s muktzah because it has power!” he shouted, very proud of himself, as if knowing the answer on a game show. “You can make it go, and it makes noise!”

Okay, he may not have it exactly right, but perhaps something is filtering in.

MLW