As we approach the High Holy Days, I have posted on my podcast several High Holy Day sermons which I delivered at Beth Israel Congregation in Ann Arbor in past years.

Today, I posted a sermon delivered in 2015 which is one of my favorite sermons of all of those I have ever written.

I invite you to listen to the sermon by going to wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com and clicking on the entry entitled: “Tying Shoes”. It is the first entry on the list of episodes.

If, for whatever reason, you can’t access the podcast, I would be glad to send you a written copy of the sermon but I think it is much more effective to listen to it rather than read it.

I hope you find it meaningful and would love to read your comments here.

Best wishes to all for Shana Tova, a sweet, happy, peaceful, New Year.

Today is the 45th anniversary of the death of musician, storyteller and humanitarian Harry Chapin. Five years ago, I posted this tribute to Harry. I am re-posting it today. His inspiration lives on.

If you are unfamiliar with Harry’s work, you can hear a great example here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VNVdiRppR94&list=RDVNVdiRppR94&start_radio=1

JULY 16, 2021 BY ROB DOBRUSIN

Today, July 16, 2021 is the 40th anniversary of the automobile accident which claimed the life of singer, songwriter, storyteller and humanitarian, Harry Chapin.

Harry Chapin was my “musical hero”. He was an inspiration to so many and his death stunned those who loved his music and his words and admired and emulated his passion for working to improve the world, especially through his work fighting world hunger.

Several years ago, I wrote a tribute to Harry on my website and I reprint it here with some more recent edits. I also wrote of the impact of his words and music in my book The Long Way Around: Stories and Sermons from a Life’s Journey

The inspiration of those words and music continue.

May his memory be for a blessing.

This morning, I turned on my car radio and set the phone on “shuffle” and the first song that came up was: “Mail Order Annie” by Harry Chapin.

I took that as a sign that I had to fulfill the promise I made on Facebook last week to write a blog post on my favorite musician. The occasion of the Facebook posting was the news of the death of the woman who inspired the song: “Taxi”. Taxi was the first Chapin song that I (and I assume many others) heard and while I can still sing it all the way though and still love the story, Taxi has moved down the list of my favorite Chapin songs, replaced by songs that didn’t make the “top 40” charts but resonate so deeply.

A step back for those who need it: Harry Chapin was a singer, songwriter, storyteller and humanitarian who raised so much money to fight world hunger as well as for other worthy causes. His stories of real people, their triumphs and sadness, so often tinged with loneliness and disappointment are unforgettable. He was by all accounts a wonderful, real person and would often end his concerts (as he did when I heard him in 1977 at Brandeis University) by staying until everyone who wanted to had had a chance for a handshake, a hug and an autograph. I still have the autograph.

Harry died in a tragic automobile accident in 1981. I can still remember the day he died. I was working at Camp Ramah and upon hearing the news, I had to take some time away from everyone and wandered to the far end of the camp to sit and think deeply about what it means when a voice is stilled and when a good life comes to an end.

I want this post to be about Harry’s music and, more importantly, his stories. I urge you to look up the songs online

So, which are my favorite songs?

There are so many but I’ll start with the one that played on my car radio:Mail Order Annie, the story of a farmer from North Dakota who meets his “mail order bride” as she gets off the train. The bridge in the song features the sentiment that while it’s a lonely life out on the plains, “there’s you babe, there’s me… and there’s God“. As he sings those words, they reach a beautiful crescendo falling softly to the last verse which ends with: “Mail order Annie, let’s you and me go home“. Such a tender, beautiful song.

Then there is Mr. Tanner, the dry cleaner from Dayton, Ohio. His singing is praised by all his friends who finally convince him to try his hand at a professional concert. He uses all his savings and the critics suggest he find another profession. The part of that song that is so brilliant is how he sings the chorus while in the background, we hear a beautiful rendition of “O Holy Night” which fits perfectly with the melody of the Chapin song.

 A Better Place to Be tells the story of the lonely waitress who listens to the sad story of the night watchman who comes in for a drink. He tells her the story of the beautiful woman that he found and then lost. She “takes her bar rag and wipes it across her eyes” before leaving together with him so that neither are alone.

One of my favorites is Corey’s Coming, an odd story of a man who describes a lover to his young friend. I won’t give away the rest of this story. You can hear it for yourself.

Finally, there is my absolute favorite. The song is called Stranger With the Melodies and is about a man who has lost his writing partner and can only sing the names of the notes and chords that he is singing because he has lost the words that make the music meaningful. This song has deep personal meaning for me as I quoted it in the eulogy I wrote for my mother thinking back to the loss of her writing partner, my father, four years before. The song is so beautiful and so haunting and it is my favorite.

I’ll just mention two more. The first is one of the last songs that he recorded: Oh Man which includes words which once moved me in ways that are far too private and personal to describe here:

Now it must feel so very strange to have to throw away all the lines that you have learned and force yourself to change.

So many are so beautiful. Take a moment to listen to Remember When the Music, Vacancy, Tangled Up Puppet, Dance Band on the Titanic and the sequel to Taxi, called appropriately enough: Sequel. The words
and music that accompany them are gems, as are so many others.

I’ll end with the lyrics which are always, always in my mind and which I will quote in a sermon next Shabbat morning and which I will post here next week.

All my Life’s a Circle
Sunrise and Sundown
The moon rolls through the nighttime
Till the daybreak comes around.
All my Life’s a Circle
But I can’t tell you why
The seasons spinning round again
The years keep rolling by.

The years that roll by are richer as we still have these beautiful songs and stories
to accompany us.

Rest in peace, Harry.

As we prepare to celebrate our country’s 250th birthday, I want to share a piece that I wrote several years ago when I completed a goal I had set for myself at age 12: visiting each of the 50 states.

As you will read, my criterion for what constitutes “visiting” a state may be different from yours or from others who have accomplished this 50 state goal in more dramatic and complete fashion. But, I have definitely been in all 50 and love to tell the story.

VISITING ALL 50

It doesn’t seem like the time or the place for a milestone moment but here I am, at 5:55 a.m. sitting in a car with my son Avi on the shoulder of US 85 a few miles north of Ludlow, South Dakota. There is not another soul around, just the stark countryside and ahead of us a sign which we can barely make out in the early morning light: “Welcome to North Dakota”. Yet, here and now, my life is about to change.

We had awakened at 4 a.m., left my wife and my daughter asleep in a motel in the Black Hills and drove through the darkness to get here. I sit in the quiet stillness to contemplate what has brought me to this place, to the edge of an accomplishment that I have been planning since I was a child.

For 44 years, I have been chasing a dream: to be in every one of the 50 states. I had always though it was an intensely personal idiosyncracy and that no one else really cared. But, then I discovered that whenever I mentioned my quest publicly, someone would immediately ask: “Do you count airports?” There are many of us out there.

My journey to this moment was launched on Sunday, August 14, 1966 when I was 11.

It was on that early summer morning that I lay awake in a motel in Spring Valley, New York, one day into our family vacation to Williamsburg, Virginia and Washington, D.C. I couldn’t sleep from excitement. But what kept me awake wasn’t the thrill of seeing the Washington Monument; I was up half the night eagerly anticipating crossing the border into New Jersey.

Growing up in Boston and with cousins in Manhattan, I had spent my entire life in New England and New York. But in a matter of a few hours, a new world would be opened up to me when we entered the Garden State with the untamed wilderness of Pennsylvania to follow two hours later.

I have always loved geography. I knew all the states and had learned the capitals before I was 6, but had lived my whole life in only 7 states and that just didn’t seem fair. So that Sunday morning, as I anticipated the new horizons ahead, I decided to engage in the ultimate domestic quest for geographical completeness.

And, it has brought me to this place. And yes, I do count airports, as long as I get off the plane. My only rule is that I have to put my feet on the floor or on the ground and, as I sit in the car, prepared to step on the soil of state number 50, I think of where I have been and what it has taken to get here.

I think of the four hour round trip from Minneapolis to the Iowa border. I remember the harrowing drive over the Teton Pass to check Idaho off the list. I remember the carefully orchestrated plane changes in airports in Utah, Colorado, Washington and Nevada. And, I think of my children who, when promised a trip instead of a big party for their bar and bat Mitzvahs chose first Alaska, then Hawaii. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so close.

However, I am ambivalent as I sit here. It’s been such a great trip and I feel caught between the excitement of fulfilling a dream and the reality of closing a chapter of my life. I know that once I cross this line, there will never again be the moment of exhiliration when I enter a new state. That excitement will be lost forever.

But I know I have come too far to remain in the car. It is time to get out and as I do my and step into state number 50, I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. And, I feel the thrill of a journey completed with, God willing, many more journeys to come.

Still, I wonder if life will ever be the same.

Then, it hits me that there is a solution to my ambivalence.

Should I ever feel the least bit let down, I can just decide that airports shouldn’t count after all.

Back now to the present day and I should quickly add that I subsequently returned to my “airport” states and have now stood on the ground in each of the 50.

In many ways, wanting to be in all 50 states was a personal goal. But, it was also a reflection of my love for geography and my love for this country. Even as I have such deep concerns about the priorities and values, or lack thereof, of current political leadership, the promise of what this country can be and the beauty and diversity of its land and its people is a constant source of delight and inspiration.

After I wrote this piece and made proudly posted on Facebook about my accomplishment, many friends asked what my next geographic undertaking would be. Actually, there is one more goal that my wife Ellen and I have taken on and that is to visit as many of the National Parks as we can.

Our National Parks are a treasure and reflect the diverse geography of this great land. From the majestic forests of Olympic National Park to the beautiful coastline of Acadia and from the fascinating features of Yellowstone to the hauntingly beautiful “hoodoos” at Bryce Canyon (my favorite), our National Parks are stunning and to hike the trails and drive the roads through them is a celebration of our country and a spiritual experience as well.

We may not get to all of the National Parks but we’re at 19 right now and hoping for, God willing, the opportunity to visit quite a few more.

There is so much work we need to do as a nation to be all that we can be. But, it would be difficult to improve upon the beauty of this great land. May we always be worthy of living in such a wondrous place.

         While I usually use this blog to write about Judaism and Jewish issues, I often digress from purely “Jewish” topics to comment on other interests. One of my interests is music and, if you have followed this blog over the years, you have read my tributes to musicians that I admire and thoughts on songs that are particularly meaningful to me.  

         Now it is time to honor the memory of another musician, but one whose name I never recall hearing until I read of his recent death. I never heard him sing and have no thoughts on anything about his career except for the fact that one of his songs has always fascinated me.

         His name was Don Schlitz. As it was for me, his name may be unfamiliar to many of you. But, I’m sure the words of one of his songs will immediately sound very familiar: 

                  On a warm summer evening.

                  On a train bound for nowhere…

         The song is, of course, The Gambler, made famous by Kenny Rogers. I love “story songs” which give us the opportunity to close our eyes and picture the scene. Very few “story songs” I have ever heard produce such vivid images in my mind as The Gambler. I can picture the scene perfectly and it is the same picture every time I hear the song.

         I love this song and find that so much of is fertile ground for midrash, for commentary concerning our lives. I’ll share two of the lines which strike me in this way and will speak about these and other lines as well in my podcast next week. (wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com). 

         Here is the first selection: 

                  Every gambler knows that the secret to surviving

                  Is knowing what to throw away and knowing what to keep. 

         These lines come to mind every High Holy Day season when we talk about teshuvah,repentance. 

         We likely think about repentance in terms of the actions in our lives which we want to distance ourselves from. But that is only part of the process of repentance. 

         We should also be thinking about the actions in our lives which are positive and which we should, to use the gambling expression, “double down” on. What we seek to throw away is critical and the first step towards being the people we want to be. But it is critical, as well, to think about those aspects of our lives which we want to preserve and to commit ourselves to increasing their importance in our lives. 

         And, here is the other line:

                  Every hand’s a winner and every hand’s a loser.

         I do not believe that every hand a person is dealt has a “winning” aspect to it. There are some situations that people face which have no redeeming quality to them and that is a reality. 

         But, for so many of the negative situations we face, we can seek to find the “winning” aspect of it, finding a way to say, as our tradition teaches: Gam zeh l’tovah, “this too can be for the good”. We can find the positive aspect of most every situation and continue to find, even in times of sadness, a reason to stay positive, to stay in the game, so to speak, and to hope for better “hands” to come. 

         I have more to say on this song and will do so in my podcast but, for now, thanks to Don Schlitz, and to Kenny Rogers as well, for providing not only a vivid image of a chance encounter on a train but some truths for us to ponder as we travel through life. 

As we gather this year for the Seder, we face challenges that are all too familiar if we consider our history but unfamiliar for so many of us today. 

Here in America and throughout the world, we face growing anti-Semitism which has left us questioning our security as communities and as individuals.

In Israel, our brothers and sisters are experiencing harrowing days as warnings send them hurrying to shelters and safe rooms. Our thoughts are with them as they face this horribly difficult daily challenge. We pray for their safety, and the safety of all who are caught in the crossfire and we pray for lasting peace for the region.

So, when we say the words: Mah Nishtana!. How is this night different from all other nights, we will not only be thinking about how every Pesach night is different from all other nights but how this Pesach is different from all other holidays we have experienced. 

And it is different. 

However, I hope that we can find a way to allow the customs and traditions of the Seder to give us comfort during these difficult times. 

In Exodus 12:42, we read that the night of the Exodus was a layl shimurim, a night of watching, a night of vigil and it will be so in every generation. 

There are many ways to understand the phrase: “a night of watching”. One way that our ancestors understood the phrase was that during the night of the Exodus, God was watching over us even more directly than on other days and nights. On the night of the Exodus from Egypt, our people felt more directly than any other time, God’s protective care.

At the Seder, we don’t observe the anniversary of the Exodus, but we step out of our time and experience that night itself, as “in every generation”, we experience a night of watching, a night of God’s protection. 

I hope that at the Seder this year, each of us can find a way to feel that sense of God’s protection and care. If the idea of divine protection doesn’t resonate with you, then you can think of the sense of comfort and security that our rituals can provide for us. You can think of the support of those of past generations who lived through difficult times and allow their courage to give us strength as we face our own troubled days. You can realize the blessing of community joining together at a table to support each other.

It will be tempting this year to focus our Seders only on the challenges we face. I hope, however, that we will balance that with a sense of the security we can find in our faith and in our commitment to our traditions and in the presence of family and friends around the Seder table. 

I wish all a peaceful, secure and hopeful holiday. May the Seder inspire us to not surrender to sadness but to continue to believe that there will be better days ahead. 

I was at the Toledo Zoo today working with a group of elementary school aged children as one of the zoo’s educators taught them about how different animals play different roles in the world. It was a very sweet experience and when, as part of the lesson, they were introduced to an armadillo and a ball python, the kids’ eyes widened.

The kids were fascinated by the animals and carefully touched them as directed by the staff. It was an opportunity to say a blessing that I often say when I’m at the zoo: “Shekacha lo b’olamo”, Blessed are You O God, whose world is full of fascination and beauty. 

But I couldn’t say the blessing and I couldn’t concentrate fully on my responsibilities because my phone kept ringing with updates on the horrendous attack which took place at Temple Israel in West Bloomfield, Michigan. My mind was racing as I looked at update after update and only when I read that the situation was resolved and that no children or staff were injured, did I relax for a moment. 

That moment passed quickly, however. 

None of us can relax as these attacks against the Jewish community are becoming more and more commonplace. None of us, within or beyond the Jewish community can relax as the threat of terrorist violence increases with every day. 

Let us be clear that acts of this kind are acts of pure hatred for which there is no logic, no possible explanation and no possible justification.

As a Jew, I fear for my community. As an American, I fear for what is happening in our nation where a culture of violence, a culture of hatred of the “other” and a culture where extreme rhetoric is valued and honored.

The Jewish community is strong and has, by necessity, become well-schooled and well trained in security procedures. That training prevented today’s attack from becoming a horrendous disaster and those that acted decisively deserve our greatest appreciation. I wish those law enforcement officers who were injured a complete recovery. 

The world is full of beautiful animals and beautiful experiences. I pray that our young people will always be able to find beauty in the world. Attacks like the attack at Temple Israel today reminds\ us that any beauty in the world can be hidden by acts of hatred. May we see the day when the miraculous nature of God’s world will not be lost behind the horrible acts of evil human beings. 

The number 25 does not have particular significance in Jewish tradition. But it does have meaning in our secular culture. As we count years from a particular event, the 25^th stands out as a milestone.

It is so, so hard for me to believe that tonight and tomorrow we will observe the 25th yahrzeit (anniversary of a death on the Jewish calendar) for my father, Manny Dobrusin, may his memory be for a blessing.

How can it be twenty-five years? It doesn’t seem that long ago that my mother, z”l, my brother, and I sat in Dad’s hospital room as his life came to an end. I remember it like it was yesterday, recognizing then, as I do now, the privilege to be present on such a heartbreaking, sacred moment. 

Many of my friends who are reading this knew my dad and I hope remember him fondly. He was an unforgettable character in the lives of so many. His acts of kindness, his passionate dedication to the Jewish community, his sense of humor and his support and sage advice will never be forgotten by those who knew him.

My Dad was a complicated man in some ways, but it was so very clear what he stood for. He stood for the love of family. He stood for the importance of responsibility. He stood for honesty. And he stood for being a mensch everywhere and every time. 

It has been twenty-five years, but his memory has never faded. He visits me regularly in my dreams, and I often find myself looking at his picture and looking for his encouragement and advice. His love for me and for all his family will always be an inspiration. 

Dad worked in public relations for much of his life. So he wrote for a living. During the eulogy that I wrote for him, I said this to our kids and to brother’s children: 

“Papa was a writer. He was a good writer. He wrote clearly and passionately. He could write almost anything from birthday poems to book reviews to advertising copy. He wrote about Judaism for the Federation of Jewish Men’s Clubs and, for his own public relations company, he wrote about tires and auto glass and refurbishing hotel rooms. He wrote about things he knew a lot about, and he wrote about things he really didn’t know that much about. But you’d never know which was which. That’s how well he wrote.

Give Papa Dobrusin a pen and a paper or a typewriter and he would sit down and write anything. 

But he wrote something bigger, something you can’t write with pen and paper. He wrote a life. His whole life was like a book. Papa was a teacher and he believed that what you did with your life mattered because others learned from it and followed your example. So, the book of your life had to be as good as you can write it. 

In that way, Papa was following the 613th commandment of the Torah. That commandment is that each person should write a Sefer Torah, a Torah scroll, for himself or herself. To him, this commandment wasn’t just about copying the Torah, but it meant that we should write a life worthy of reading and reviewing by others, a life which inspires others to aim for holiness with acts and deeds that live on after us.. 

He wrote such a Torah. He wrote an eloquent, uplifting and challenging Torah, one which will always echo in the minds of those who knew him. 

It didn’t have to be that way. Dad could have written a Torah of disappointment and sadness.. He had plenty of potential excuses. He was ill for a large part of his life. His parents died when he was young. His planned career didn’t work out as he had hoped. But, instead of making those excuses the story of his life, he kept writing and writing,improvising along the way but always with a goal of filling each and every day with meaning and with purpose.”

And that is the legacy he left us with.

So, it has been 25 years, but the lessons are still so clear in my mind and guide me to this day. 

 May the memory of Manny Dobrusin always be for a blessing for all who knew him as it most certainly is for me. 

I posted this piece last week. At that time, the system which alerts subscribers to a new post was not working. Since then, the problem has been fixed and I am posting it again. I believe it is a critical message during the times we are facing.

Please listen to my podcast at wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com for a more extensive version of this piece.

The Torah portion of Beshalach begins with the statement that God did not lead the people out of Egypt along the route through the territory of the Philistines “lest the people see war and return to Egypt”

The word “see” is interesting. It could, of course, mean “experience” but, in and of itself, the word “see” carries great meaning. 

God’s wish that the people not “see” war could be viewed as meaning not necessarily that God didn’t want the people to be engaged in a war. Rather, it could be viewed as saying that God didn’t want the people to see others at war in that territory where war was common or even to see the ramifications of war, either of which might frighten them for the future. So, God does what was appropriate for a people newly freed from the horrors of slavery: God restricts what the people see so as to avoid fear.

Later in the Torah, we read: “If you see the animal of your fellow lost, you must not hide your eyes, you must return it”. 

Now having grown up, the people are commanded to act on what they see. They must not hide from their eyes from what they see.

There was a time when people could honestly say: “We did not know what was happening somewhere else because we did not see it happening”. 

That time is long since past.

Through all of the different media available to us, we see what is happening around us, even if it far away. 

And when we see, we can not ignore.

And when we see, we can not be convinced that we didn’t see what we know we saw.

We have seen, over and over again, the brutality, lack of compassion and unrestrained actions of ICE agents in Minneapolis. We have seen the completely unjustifiable murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. We have seen children being used as pawns. We have seen completely innocent US citizens taken into custody in insensitive, intrusive fashion. 

We have seen what we have seen and it becomes our responsibility to raise our voices against these actions. 

While our nation definitely needs a sensible, effective immigration policy, this is not the way. 

And we can not ignore what we have seen.

I’m finding myself in a nostalgic mood this morning. Last night, I heard a brief report on the news that opened a flood gate of memories. It has happened before in this way and now it has happened again.

I heard last night of the death of Chuck Negron, a lead singer in the band Three Dog Night.

And, immediately, I started hearing songs in my head.

Actually, it didn’t take this sad news to bring the songs to mind. They often are played on the “’70s station” and I often find myself singing them softly to myself. But, this morning, they are providing, in the best possible sense, an “ear worm” which I can’t stop. And I don’t want it to stop.

I started listening to “Top 40” radio, WRKO in Boston, when I was 12 or 13 and through the very end of the 60’s and the first few years of the 70’s, that station was one my fondest companions. I have written about some of my favorites before: Harry Chapin, Jim Croce, John Denver, James Taylor, and so many others.

Then, there is Three Dog Night. One of the constants of those days was Three Dog Night. It seemed that every month, a new Three Dog Night hit would appear and each one was remarkable.

I thought this morning about hit after hit: One, Easy to Be Hard, Shambala, Out in the Country, Try a Little Tenderness, Joy To The World, Black and White, Family of Man, Mama Told Me Not To Come and, perhaps the most beautiful of all: An Old Fashioned Love Song. And that is just a short list. There were so many others and they all were just so much fun.

So, if I like Three Dog Night so much, why didn’t I ever mention them? I think it is simply because they were always there and I, and perhaps many others, just took them for granted. We just expected the next song to be fun, easy to sing along with, often carrying a positive, hopeful message- listen to Black and White if you want an example. They were just always there. And when someone or something is always there, we take them for granted.

So, while the world isn’t waiting for me to say this, I’ll say what I should have said many times since: I loved Three Dog Night and still do and I thank Chuck Negron and the rest of the group for the joy they brought me and the songs that still play in my head.

I understand that Three Dog Night is not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That is a gross injustice which needs to be corrected. In the meantime, I’ll be singing and humming their songs for the next few days and beyond and they will bring not just longings for my youth but joy to my world today.

Please listen to my podcast at wrestlinganddreaming.podbean.com for a more extensive version of this piece.

This week’s Torah portion of Beshalach begins with the statement that God did not lead the people out of Egypt along the route through the territory of the Philistines “lest the people see war and return to Egypt”

The word “see” is interesting. It could, of course, mean “experience” but, in and of itself, it carries great meaning.

God wish that the people not “see” war could be viewed as meaning that God didn’t want the people to see others at war in the territory where war was common or even to see the ramifications of war, either of which might frighten them for the future. So, God does what was appropriate for a people newly freed from the horrors of slavery: God restricts what the people see so as to avoid fear.

Later in the Torah, we read: “If you see the animal of your fellow lost, you must not hide your eyes, you must return it”.

Now having grown up, we are commanded to act on what we see. We can not hide our eyes.

There was a time when people could honestly say: “We did not know what was happening somewhere else because we did not see it happening”.

That time is long since past.

Through all of the different media available to us, we see what is happening around us, even if it far away.

And when we see, we can not ignore.

And when we see, we can not be convinced that we didn’t see what we know we saw.

We have seen, over and over again, the brutality, lack of compassion and unrestrained actions of ICE agents in Minneapolis. We have seen the completely unjustifiable murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. We have seen children being used as pawns. We have seen completely innocent US citizens taken into custody in insensitive, intrusive fashion.

We have seen what we have seen and it becomes our responsibility to raise our voices against these actions.

While our nation needs a sensible, effective immigration policy, this is not the way.

And we can not ignore what we have seen.