Welcome back!!

I'm so pleased to see you and the family had such a wonderful time celebrating the simcha.

Don't be down on yourself for letting a touch of grief intrude on your sense of joy. After all, even during the wedding ceremony, they took a moment to break a glass.

Ralphie:

True, very true. Thanks so much.

Robert,
I think that without knowing sorrow, you cannot experience true joy. Even a baby,upon being fed, experiences true joy after the pain of being hungry.
Robert, you could not have gone through an evening of such joy without thinking of Ariel.

It's no wonder you are an award-winning screenwriter...your description of Karen and your daughters just comes alive on the page.

Randi:

You are a wise woman. As always, your comments are a valuable component of the Seraphic Secret mishpacha, family.

What's there to add, Robert?

I hope that you and Karen and the girls continue to partake in simchas!

Could you please post a photo of Karen when she was 10 years old? I think we'd all love to see the lovely vision that you could never forget . . .

Robert, your posts make me smile out loud! What comes through is your generosity...how your thoughts are for Ariel, Karen, O#2 and O#3 and your delights are wrapped up in them. Like savoring baby pictures of my hoodlums...such contentment it gives me! Thanks!

Lisa..."Your posts make me smile out loud!"...that's a great expression!

Pearl:

We too look forward to many more simchas.

Sarah:

Let me dig up some age 10 photos, get Karen's okay and post we will.

Lisa:

Smiling out loud with you.

You know, it would be kinda neat to have your readers post their photos from circa age 10 on their blogs, as well. Something different, but eye opening.

Or you have readers submit their photos, you mix them up, supply names and have readers guess "who's who"...but then again, there goes our anonymity out the window.

Pearl:

Okay. Great idea.

You first.

Who's next?

Cruisin Mom?
Lance?
Jake? Oh Jake, Your pic with Ten Reasons Why You Should Not Have Posted the Picture.

Robert,

I will dig around....and see if I can find some pics.

I think that is a fun idea.

Lance:

Okay, The Man -- who gets the ball rolling --so to speak. I'll even join in and post my most dorky picture to show all our readers just why Karen was so unaware of my existence.

Stand by, it will take a day or two to dig through my somewhat jumbled archives, i.e. shoeboxes not so clearly labeled.

Sometimes it seems unfair to me to think that without the bad the good loses some of its luster.

Still, it sounds like you took great joy in watching your women dance and that is special in and of itself.

Jack:

I need to know, when did you ever think that life was fair? In any case, yes, I took great joy in watching the women in my life dance. It was a crowning moment and I'll never forget it. Hey Jack, any interest in submitting a photo of the ten-year old Jack? See Pearl's suggestion above.

That is so beautiful. I never knew how to describe that feeling. Now I do. Thank you for the beauty.

Robert,

We were also at a wedding, this past Sunday, and many similar thoughts went through my mind. There is always pain in life, it comes no matter if we want it or not; oftentimes, though, joy is a choice we make, and one we need to make whenever we get the chance.

People oftentimes have a difficult time making that choice. Joy is not something that comes easily to us, surrounded by pain and fear, so when we have a chance to let out and enjoy life, we need to take advantage of it. And I think we do, during those dances at the weddings, and other occasions.

A wedding represents continuation and hope and a celebration in the delight of the newlyweds. It's a mitzvah to celebrate, but I think it's one of the easier to follow. And we don't necessarily stress enough the joy in Judaism. As so many have observed, it would be better were Jews to show up for Purim and Simchas Torah rather than R. Hashanah and Yom Kippur for their 2 or 3 days a year, then that might give a very different picture of what we can be about.

I lost my dad when he was only 59. I also have a diabetic daughter. Finally, I work in an emergency room, and have seen real tragedy. All these have shown me that one can't waste too much time in being sad, terrible times will come unbidden, but we must instead work to spend time in celebration with joy and gladness every chance we get.

When I was 10, my parents dressed me in Shabbat attire that made me look an awful like a pimp. I could pretend I'm embarrassed by that, but it was a significant step on my path to becoming a comedian.

Mo,

I lost my father at 58 from diabetes. Fortunately, no one else in the family has turned up with it. In the last few years, he was blind and on dialysis but continued working and serving in our church up to the day he died.

When my older sister was married, Dad was able to attend and hear, but not see, the ceremony. I was standing behind him to his right. Moments after the ceremony was finished, he started, leaned in my direction, and loudly whispered, "Hey! Help me hitch my pants back up!" Sure enough, his pants had come loose and were down around his ankles.

It is not uncommon for all those attending a Mormon temple wedding to dress in white clothing, so his white underwear did not stand out. I think only one other person in the room was aware of what happened -- and old family friend who quietly made her way over and helped me get my Dad's pants back up. But it has been a tale told and retold at family gatherings over the years.

Dad was not around in the flesh for my own wedding (I was the last of my siblings) but my mother is convinced he was there in spirit.

Robert,

If I can find a suitable picture and scan it in I will be happy to participate.

BTW,

My father and I have debated for years whether life is fair or not. The first time I really understood just how unfair it could be was during the 1978 World Series between the Dodgers and Yankees. Reggie Jackson got in the way of Bill Russell's throw and should have been called out for interference, but that is a separate story altogether.

Jack:

Look forward to receiving your picture. Much thanks. Baseball is the American game and somehow always ends up being the best metaphor for life's most difficult questions. I can't wait to read your take on the '78 World Series on your fine blog.

I was at the simcha as a relative of the family. I too missed Ariel, for this would have been his simcha as well. Robert, your observations of the women dancing, and in particular, your ladies dancing, is accurate and, as usual, beautifully described. I have the video to prove it and will be sending a copy to you.

Rena:

Thanks so much for your kind words about Ariel ZT'L and my view of the dancing women.

You have video for me? My gratitude is endless as the moment.

1. May you have many more of these endless moments!

2. I think the general consensus is that life is unfair. The trick is not to let our grief and sadness completely overshadow our potential to feel joy; and to be able to feel more than one thing at once and understand that that's simply the human condition.

3. I'm game for sending a 10-year-old photo - where do I send it?

Sara

Robert,
It was great seeing you and Karen smile, as bittersweet as this moment must be for you. Keep on smiling for the rest of your lives and continue enjoying your beautiful family. I am certain that it is Ariel's wish.
I am sorry we missed the dancing, but your description certainly made me feel as if I was there.

Sara:

1. Endless thanks.
2. The trick is a bit tricky, but you are correct. And it is the condition Karen and I, and most parents who have lost children, aspire to.
3. Please scan your picture and send it to me as an attachment.

Thanks so much. Always good to hear from you, Sara.

Hermom:

It was wonderful seeing you too. Though you missed the dancing, I feel certain that the future holds many more dances for us to share -- separately of course.

In the tradition of many Rabbis of shuls I've attended over the years, I will conveniently leave the posting area as soon as anyone here wants to start the mixed dancing.

Robert,
Look what you started with your referral to mixed dancing. I think I will have to move to LA because I will definitely be thrown out of my shul.

Hermom:

Relax. Seraphic Secret is much like Las Vegas. What happens here, stays here. Sorta.

did someone mention vegas? ;)

Dear Karen and Robert,

Like the other respondents, I too enjoyed your beautiful imagery and the skillful language that so artfully reflected it.

I especially appreciated the comment by Ralphie ... reminding us how imperative it is that we balance joy with the sobriety of tearful remembrance.

I've a simcha coming up soon and-beyond all of its mundane details and planning-my most pressing concern is figuring out how to forward an invitation to Ben, z"l.

I remain,

Very Sincerely yours,

Alan D. Busch

Alan:

Thanks for your kind words. I am no expert in this area, but I sincerely believe that Ben Z"L, has already received the invitation. May his memory be a blessing.

I've been thinking about this beauty thing. Isn't it a higher honor to be more complementary or in awe of other qualities that a person has?

Beauty is for the most part, what you are born with. Yes I know about images and makeovers and all that, but I don't really buy that stuff. A girl I knew once told me, thank G-d I am pretty.

I am more impressed with qualities that one has to sweat or show a strong and beautiful character.

I don't see the importance in only stressing or mostly stressing someone's physical beauty rather than things they actually do, ways that they improve your life.

I read this yesterday and this sentence has replayed in my mind several times since then:

For this endless moment is what we live for.

Endless moments. What a perfect way to desribe them.

I love Pearl's idea, but 10 yrs. old seems so long ago and far away. Sigh.

Stacey:

The photos are starting to come in. Hey, come on, what do I have to do to get a photo out of you? Come on, you're a regular.

Robert, as I reread these comments, I realize: You know what's so nice about this blog (and also several others) and about its membership...? It's very *haimesche*/down-home. The bantering back and forth (when not of a political nature) is very sweet and simple and silly at times...but all so welcoming.

You certainly maintain a dutiful and sincere mitzvah of "hachnasat orchim" (welcoming of guests).

I probably can say this on most everyone's behalf: Thank you for keeping a welcome mat out for us and the house key under the mat to allow us entry at all times. (whether you're home at the time is another matter)

Robert, I think what Pearl is trying to say is, we'll all be over for dinner this Shabbot...set the table for 150! If you're not there, leave the key under the mat and we'll start without you.

Pearl, Randi:

I'm setting the Shabbos table right now. Looking forward to another endless moment with my non-political Seraphic Secret readers.

Pearl, still waiting for your 10-year old photo.

Randi, your photo is positively a-dorable!

What makes you think Ariel ZT"L was not there? He always had a way of sneaking up on you when you did not think he was there.
I remember how much joy Ariel ZT"L felt for his friends when they came upon a happy milestone. I was visiting with Ariel ZT"L one Friday when a local boy who had just become a chassan came in to visit. This was right before Rosh Hashana. Ariel ZT"L was already on oxygen and even the simplest task required much effort on his part. When this boy came in Ariel ZT"L got up and gave him a hug. He was truly happy for him and wanted to show it. I am sure that Ariel ZT"L was at this particular simcha just like he will be at future simchas of those he loved.
However I must say that Ariel ZT"L stayed on the men’s side of the dance floor.

Ari:

I'm sure you're right. Ariel ZT'L was there. And of course he stayed on the men's side of the dance floor.

Dear Robert
I stumbled across your blog by accident-- and then read the whole thing in one sitting. I wish I had had the privilege of knowing your son. I am currently living with a girl in her early 20s who has just lost her brother. I wish I had words to comfort her, and I wish I had words to comfort you, but all I can do is listen. But I want you to know that I have 'listened' to your words, and to your memories, and thank you.

Anon:

Thank you for your kind words. I am sorry for your girlfriend's loss. Listening brings a great measure of comfort for there are no words that can really ease the grief.