OyChicago blog

There is a perfect diet.  It will help you fit into your skinny jeans, and help you gain muscle.  It works for everyone.  This magical meal planning will help you feel energetic, sleep soundly, gain muscle and drop fat.  You can either hire me to tell you this secret, or just keep reading.

My guess, you are still reading.  I would too, this is a steal.  Many fitness experts and doctors will not want me to share this with you, but I’m doing it anyway.  I can handle the scrutiny.

The perfect diet has nothing to do with Atkins, South Beach, or San Diego.  The diet that works best for you, is different than the diet that will work best for me, or anyone else for that matter, because it has to do with your own unique DNA.  A low-carb diet work may work well for some people, others may end up eating too much protein and fat, feel like crap, raise their cholesterol and end up with liver problems.  Giving up refined sugar works can work for many people, but not over the long haul, because at some point you’re going to find that cookie irresistible.

Finding the best foods to eat starts with tracking— write down what you eat.  Also, write down how you feel—tired, nauseous, energetic…  You have to make sure you write down everything you eat, even if it’s just one peanut m&m at four in the afternoon.  Why?  You are looking for patterns:

• Do you feel tired after meals?
• Do you eat too much sugar in the afternoons (i.e. mini-snickers and twix)?
• Do you drink too much soda?
• Do you eat enough fruits and vegetables?
• Do certain combinations of food bother your stomach (sometimes fruit after a heavy meal makes people gassy)?
• Do you eat too many empty calories (i.e. pretzels, rice cakes, dry cereal, chips)?
• Do you eat enough protein?

I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea.  To help you in your journaling, you can use a Blackberry or other application on your smart phone to get calorie and nutritional information.  The only way to improve your diet is to truly understand what you’re eating.

Once you have a month of data you can start to really analyze trends and make changes slowly.  Many yo-yo dieters make drastic changes and then once they drop a few pounds, they fall back into old habits.

Speaking of nutritional information, do you know that a chopped salad at Corner Bakery Salad contains over 60 grams of fat, and most Au Bon Pain sandwiches contain over 1200 milligrams of salt?  Eating out is no easy task these days.  Many of my clients had no idea how often they ate out, till they started logging their food.  My dad once told me, “I’m eating rabbit food everyday for lunch, and I’ve lost no weight.”  I asked him to bring me home the dressing he put on his “rabbit food.”  He was adding 26 grams of fat to his salad!

I’m not saying you should stop eating out, just be an informed customer.  Check out the nutritional information before you eat instead of after.  Almost every chain has information on-line.

So, start logging your food for 30 days and see how you do—  if you want to, you can email me your log and I’ll evaluate it.  Good luck!

The details: I want bagpipes at my funeral. I want to donate all my organs. I have (almost) decidedly decided to be cremated, (which will come as a tremendous surprise to my husband.) I want my children and friends to speak at my service. I want people to remember all my accomplishments and excuse all my failures. I want to be missed. Not just for a period of time, but forever. I want to leave big shoes to fill. I want to have been on this earth for a reason larger than myself and my family. I want to have done something that means something to more than just me.
 
I have been watching "The Big C." It has forced me to start reflecting on what I would do if I were terminally ill. The main character, Cathy, is married with a teenage son. She finds out she has stage 4 melanoma. Although her doctor has not given her a specific timeline, it's clear that she is dying in the near future and without other options. Prior to the news, Cathy is an uptight control freak. She is calculated in all her decision making. She is orderly. She owns and ferociously guards a beautiful white couch. She has settled into a boring and predictable marriage. She is going through the motions of living her life without much thought as to why she does what she does. The news rocks her. She pours red wine on her couch, flips the cushions and then burns it. She builds a pool within inches of her back step so she can leap into the pool with no hesitation and teach her son to dive from the edge. She buys a red (of course) stick shift convertible with all the bells and whistles (which she quickly realizes she is unable to drive because she doesn't drive stick.) She becomes impulsive. She gets naked. She frees her spirit.

And she triggers a feeling of discomfort and regret in me.

I always wanted to get married. I always wanted a family. I promised myself if I didn't find a wonderful life partner, I would go at parenthood alone. I knew I would adopt. Beyond that, I didn't really know. I didn't really think about it. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not some, "yes dear" subservient wife. I don't hang my identity on my being married or a mom. But, family is at my core. I studied Psychology, which was not that shocking. My dad is a therapist— people interest me— I'm decent with human interaction. Slightly shocking might have been my going on to get my masters in counseling, since I really detested school. I still have those anxiety dreams about missing a test and staying in school forever. But I don't believe I ever took the time to procure a life plan. I was too afraid. I just kind of went through life.

I travelled a little. I lived in Israel for a year. This came about after 5 years of private school tuition at two liberal arts colleges. I proudly announced that I was going to live in Boston and be a bartender, where everybody knows your name. My parents gave me the "blink. blink." stare. About a week later my mom said they would pay for me to go to Israel, but I had to stay for a year. I said OK. I never really wanted to move to Boston and bartend. I had never really wanted to do anything. I did not have a vision beyond someday having a family.

I came home from Israel and started working for a Jewish organization. I was not overly passionate about the work, but it was convenient. I met my husband. I quit my job. I got married. I went to graduate school. I started a job. I quit graduate school. I went back to graduate school. I graduated from graduate school. I quit my job. And weeks later, my first son was born and I became a stay-at-home mom.

I went on to have three more additions— two more biological sons and one adopted daughter. I point this out so that you can see I achieved my two goals— family and adoption. I'm not a total slacker. But now, here I sit. In my house in the suburbs. Great husband. Four wonderful kids. Two dogs. The fortunate opportunity to be at home and raise my kids with full support from my spouse. But now, with all of that, I wish before it, I had lived my life differently. I always wanted to travel. But I never knew where to go. Now I know. Austrailia! Vietnam! Ireland! Italy! Spain! I want to travel by train around Europe! I want to join the Peace Corp. Now, with four young kids, it is completely and utterly impractical. Impossible. And I fear for myself that that I will die unfulfilled. And all of this triggered by a God damn TV show. I'm like a poster child for the influence of our media.

But, really. At some point, don't we all look around and take notice of where we were, who we are, and compare it to where we want to be? Where I am, I love. But if I were dying today, my life would not have been fully realized. Not because I am merely 38 years old— too young (objectively) to kick the bucket. But because of the perspective I have now, all these years later. I'm lamenting at the possibilities that remain unrealized, and at this point, possibly impossible. It's easy to lament, regret and accept what we haven't done as the end. For now, I am planning a romantic trip to Italy in the spring.

I recently wrote an article for Oy!Chicago detailing how eight months ago, my life changed via receiving an Amazon Kindle for Chanukah. Now one way I did not foresee my Kindle changing my life was by way of religion. I mean, come on, it’s an eReader. What can it possibly have in common with religion?

And that’s where I was wrong.

I was bored one day (probably when I should have been doing homework) and decided to surf Amazon.com to see what obscure books I could get for my Kindle—not that I’d actually buy them, but because I love randomly finding books that are so strange, unique, and “out-there.” After about ten minutes of perusing the Kindle bookstore page I found myself on a page I never would have thought existed.

The Jewish Bible for the Kindle.

Now it’s not so strange that Amazon would have digital copies of the Tanakh for the Kindle. There are regular, bound paged books of it so why not translate that to the Kindle? There are Kindle copies of the Bible so it would make sense to have the Jewish version represented as well.

The thing that is strange about having the Tanakh on the Kindle is the ironic aspect of it. To help explain, I reached out to Rabbie Dov Hillel Klein, from the Chabad house on Northwestern’s campus.

“According to traditional Judaism one cannot use electronic books on Shabbat,” Rabbi Klein said. “It is forbidden to initiate electricity on Shabbat. Likewise, one cannot use electronic prayer books on Shabbat. I use electronic prayer books during the week.”

So if it is forbidden to initiate electricity on Shabbat, then how are you supposed to use electronic prayer books on Shabbat? Yes, you can use them during the week, but the whole reason behind the Kindle is to make reading books convenient. You don’t need to carry heavy, hardcover books around when you have the slim, 8.7 oz Kindle that has the capacity to hold thousands of books for you. But you still need that hardcover Jewish Bible for Shabbat. So what’s the use in having a digital version if you still need the “old-fashioned” version for when it really counts?

I am a firm believer in technology furthering our society. I fully embrace any/all new gadgets and implement them in my life. The Kindle was no exception. I wholeheartedly welcomed it and allowed it to completely revamp the way I read. In the argument over whether eReaders are destroying the traditional way of literature or helping to further it along, you won’t find me on the side of the old-fashioned.

But perhaps when it comes to religion, technology just can’t provide the same benefits as traditional methods of prayer/study. That’s why it’s called tradition.

So here are 20 things I had to learn on my own during the first week of my new baby boy’s life. (That the baby is now two months old and I am only now getting to turn my notes into a blog post is just a small indicator of how busy a small person can make a big person):

1) Don’t hold the baby while brushing your teeth. The pointy toothbrush handle can reach from your mouth to the baby’s face. Luckily, I realized this before anything happened.

2) When burping the baby by patting him on the back, you can keep rhythm by singing him a song with a strong beat. Good ones include “Give Up the Funk,” “Proud Mary,” and “When I Ruled the World.” Patriotic songs also work, especially “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” (“Mama Said Knock You Out” is a great one, except if mama walks in on you while you are using it.)

3) If you feed the baby first, the puppy will whine and annoy the baby during his bottle, making feeding difficult. If you feed the puppy first, the baby will lose his patience and cry, making feeding difficult. Anyone who can figure this one out deserves a Nobel.

4) Babies hate cold. They hate it more than great-aunt Tillie who flees to Ft. Lauderdale when the first autumn leaf hits the sidewalk. Cold rooms, cold hands, cold bottles— all bad. Also, your “room temp” is baby’s “deep freeze.” So you put socks on him. He will kick off the socks. So he has to be bundled in a blanket. He will then kick off the blanket.

5) Babies look like whoever is holding them, according to the people looking at the ones holding them. Exception: If your wife is prettier than you, the baby looks like her. Exception to the exception: If the baby undeniably looks more like you, you will hear: “The baby looks like you— I’m sorry.”

6) Gifts brought to the hospital are appreciated at the hospital. They are less so on the way to the car with your first-time-in-a-car-seat-newborn, your post-partum wife, and several pieces of luggage, plus the discharge papers, which cannot be packed. Helium balloons are especially hard to wrestle into cars, and they block your rear-view unless they are in the trunk… and then you have to remember you have ceiling fans at home.

7) You don’t have enough blankies. You could have an automatic blankie-dispenser, or live over a blankie factory, and you won’t have enough blankies. You know how you go through a box of tissues when you have a bad cold? Like that, but every day you wash the same 17 blankies.

8) Mechanical swing + pacifier = just enough time to shower.

9) Not all baby-bottle nipples are created equal. In fact, there is more variety here than with shoes. There are sizes, shapes, materials, and “flow-rates” to consider, not to mention the viscosity of the fluid passing through the nipple and its likelihood of clogging the nipple. Too slow frustrates the baby; too fast gags the baby. Choosing a car is easier than finding the nipple your baby likes. And his preference will change in a week.

10) Some babies are clenched. They have that “put up your dukes” pose, and bent knees, too, because they have yet to get used to the fact that they are no longer in the womb, where that posture was the only one available for months. Yes, they eventually open up, but knowing this does not make getting clothes and diapers on him easier now. It’s like dressing a doll with steel springs for joints.

11) Aside from blankies, you don’t have enough batteries. You don’t have enough outlets. You don’t have time to download the 1,372 photos you take every day and forward them to desperate relatives.

12) Babies are natural clowns. Last Comic Standing would be vastly improved if the comics were replaced by babies waking up, nodding off, and in “awake-alert” modes.

13) Just because they make the nursing, pursing-lip face does not mean they are hungry. Some babies just like to suckle as a way of calming themselves. You will not know which he means until the pacifier comes rocketing back at your face.

14) Feeding every three hours is a guideline. Feeding on demand is more the rule.

15) Milk to a baby is like beer to an adult: first the chugging, then the burping, then the spewing, and then the passing out.

16) Onesies have three snaps in the, um, crotch-al area. Just use the middle one. If you try to line up all three on a squirming tush, you will fail. Even if you succeed, then you have three whole snaps to undo and redo every time you change the diaper. And they are designed to hold so fast you are more likely to tear the fabric than unsnap them.

17) Don’t both get up every time the baby cries at night. Here’s what we do: I went to sleep at 11:00 pm, while my wife stayed up until 5:30 am. Which is when I got up and took over while she slept until noon or 1:00 pm. Then we still have the whole afternoon and evening together, and both of us have had a relatively full sleep. Once I came back to work, we added a nanny to the mix so each of us three adults were on 8-hour baby shifts.

18) When the baby falls asleep on you, wait until he is really asleep, then put him down in his crib or car seat. But yes, then put him down. Eight pounds becomes 80 after two hours. If you let him learn that he can only sleep on your arm, you will get a cramp that laughs at tennis elbow.

19) There is an app for that. While in the hospital, I found one that timed contractions. And another than generates white noise. This is good for simulating the sounds the baby heard when in utero, and it’s remarkably calming for them. Also the Shabbat service because we were still in the hospital over Shabbat, but I didn’t consider that possibility and had not packed my siddur. I know, I shouldn’t have used the phone on Shabbat at all, but it was either that or not pray. Only after we got home did it occur to me that I could have contacted the hospital’s chaplain.

20) There are at least 20 more things just on the topic of what the baby books don’t tell you about poop, but I won’t go there…

Shana Tova!  Like many of you, I have been reflecting on this past year, 5770, and looking ahead to the next, 5771.  Over the past year I have transitioned from one full-time job to another, completed a part-time fellowship, staffed a Birthright-Shorashim trip to Israel, and proposed, planned a wedding, and married the woman of my dreams…just to name a few of the events that kept me busy last year.  I have no regrets.  I am in a great place in my life and I have had an amazing year.  My accomplishments have been significant and my experiences have been life changing.

This time of year there is a lot of talk about New Year’s resolutions—let’s try to do more of this, spend more time on that, and really work to get better at all of these.  As a goal oriented, young Jewish professional, I am all for it and I unconditionally support the endless pursuit of excellence.  That being said, an interesting idea came to me this year.

As 5770 was coming to a close, I was celebrating my wedding over Labor Day weekend, just a few days before Rosh Hashanah.  With all the flurry of activity surrounding the wedding, my now wife and I had neglected to make any dinner plans for the holiday.  We didn’t make any arrangements to be anywhere or have anyone come to us.   Surprisingly, I felt great about it.  Well, admittedly, I felt a little guilty that I wasn’t planning some grand meal or traveling to see any family for the long weekend.  Deep down, though, I was relieved.  After one of the busiest and most intense years of my life, I had the opportunity to come into 5771 with nothing to do.

On Erev Rosh Hashanah, as many were stressing, traveling, preparing, cooking, and getting ready for the insane rush of the holiday, I felt completely at ease and relaxed.  I left work early, picked up a few items at Trader Joe’s, and cooked Rosh Hashanah dinner for two.  We had kosher wine, two round challahs, sweet honey, fresh apples, and all the necessities for a holiday meal.  Best of all we had time to just be with each other and enjoy our new life as a married couple.  I’m talking about good old fashioned free time: time for dreaming, napping, laughing, and playing.  After the year I had just completed it was the perfect and most peaceful way to bring in the new year.

The experience of a low key holiday taught me an important lesson.  There was one resolution that needed to be on my list this year.  In fact if it’s the only thing I accomplish, it’s safe to say that this will be an even more amazing year than last.  How do I top 5770, the year where I seemingly did it all?  The answer is to do less.  My resolution this year is to make more time to just be me, live my life, and enjoy the time with my new wife.

I wish all of our Oy! readers a happy and healthy new year.  For those of you of that have a lot to do this year, my wish for you is to have it all and do it all.  For those of you that need a break this year, my wish is that you give yourself permission to take a little extra time for yourself and occasionally enjoy a meal for just one or two.

My grandma is the strong and silent type.  At least she tries to be.

When we take my grandma out to lunch (more like she takes us out – she never lets us pay), she typically remains quiet while we fill her in on the latest family gossip and share the details of our lives.  When we ask her what is new with her, we usually get a quick response of, “nothing much” and when you ask her about her opinion on the decisions of our family members, 95 percent of the time, she’ll say, “I’m just the grandmother, I don’t mix in” and leaves it at that.

There is however, an exception to this rule.  My grandma’s other 5 % is hysterical.  She will never criticize anyone directly, but every so often, she will be sitting with me and my mother and inadvertently make a very blunt comment about another family member.  Like, “Have you seen the low cut shirts that your cousin has been wearing lately?” or “If only he’d lose 20 pounds, I’m sure he’d have no trouble finding a girlfriend.”  Oy.

Last week, I received an alarming call from my mother letting me know that my grandma was in the hospital.  Worried, I immediately gave my mom the third degree, trying to assess what was wrong and how serious the situation was.

Here is what happened:

That day, my mother had spoken with Grandma Fanny at noon, and all was well.  At 4:00 p.m., my grandma failed to call her best friend Sylvie like she always does each day, so at 4:01 p.m., Sylvie panicked.  Oh, Jewish grandmas.

She frantically called my grandma, who was barely able to answer but told her that she was dizzy and was having major stomach problems, vomiting etc.

Sylvie proceeded to call my mother, Annette, and two uncles, Mardy and Jerry, at home, and received no answer (4:00 p.m. – everyone was at work – duh).  So rather than going over there, she called 911.  Then she realized that she can call my mom’s cell phone, got through, and from there, of course the whole family wass alerted.  My dad and my uncles raced across town to grandma’s house to beat EMS before they broke down her door.

Grandma, G-d bless her, was laying in bed, sick as a dog, and while my father dealt with EMS, my uncle Jerry noticed a small handwritten note on the fridge that hadn’t been there the day before when he had visited:

          If I get sick, it’s from the chicken that Mardy brought me from Giant Eagle.

Oh, Grandma.  I think you’ve been watching too much Seinfeld.  Most people just wouldn’t eat the chicken.  My grandma, bless her heart, eats the chicken that she already has a hunch is bad, and leaves a note to place the blame before the illness even sets in.

While it’s not the best day to be Uncle Mardy, it’s good to be my grandma, because we all love her and rushed to take care of her at a moment’s notice.  And to give my uncle a bit of credit, apparently the illness wasn’t entirely the fault of the chicken.  Grandma is on the mend but suffering not just from food poisoning but vertigo.

The holidays remind me each year how lucky I am to have my grandparents in my life, even when they’re a little crazy.  To all of you reading, take a moment at some point over the high holidays to tell your grandparents to have a happy and healthy new year – and that if the chicken looks bad, it likely is.  Don’t eat it!

“It’s kind of a no-brainer for us.”

“I mean, if you want a list of mohels, I can email you one.”

“For me, it’s more of an aesthetic thing. I had this experience with a guy who wasn’t circumcised…have you ever played with a long water balloon?”

This was the discussion I had with a few friends last week – all of us in our last trimester of pregnancy. And while the water balloon image stuck with me on the playground the next afternoon, I still didn’t get the answer I’d sought.

Two years ago, my husband and I were doing the circumcision debate and wound up in a dead heat. Blessedly, on the last push he yelled, “It’s a girl!” We spent the first eight days of her life in a blissful haze. Our biggest concerns were whether I had the proper breastfeeding latch and if we should reheat more lasagna.

But here we are, almost two years later to the day, still undecided. And this time, even though we’re trying to keep the gender a surprise, even my midwife has called my bump a he. The only name we have so far is Gillespie, because I was so dizzy for the first few months, and now though I’m physically more stable, my mind is still spinning. Here are some of the arguments, opinions, and inconclusive statements from my husband, Jay and me.

Me: Well, it’s been proven circumcision is healthier. I have to check the WHO website but I’m pretty sure.
Jay: I think they’ve found studies both pro- and con- health wise.
Me: Then, how will you explain it to him if he looks different than you?
Jay: I can handle it.
Me: Okay, and there’s also….the covenant thing.
Jay: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

The Covenant Thing. Jay is not Jewish. Which doesn’t upset me, but it does challenge me. To be more aware and honest about my own beliefs. When I first met him, he called himself an atheist.

“But you must believe in something!” I insisted. When he asked me to clarify my own faith, I got defensive and nauseous. I’d spent most of my thirty years obsessive about my prayers and rituals and didn’t know how to distill the importance of the Shema and yahzreit, kissing the mezuzah and Friday night chicken into a pithy response. My relationship with G-d was and continues to be sacrosanct. Jay knows I pray every day for a half hour. He knows not to open the door or interrupt me with anything short of a five-alarm fire. But he doesn’t know exactly what I am reciting or how I am constantly trying to evolve in my daily practice and make it into more of a conversation. Though I take comfort in the Jewish traditions and consider matzoh ball soup the truest form of manna, I have Chungpa Rinpoche and Pema Chodron on my night table, not Martin Buber. I visit the yoga studio a few times a week, and the local temple a few times a year.

Jay’s spirituality has definitely grown in our years together too. Though he was brought up with his parents practicing many different traditions, and his father is now a minister for Unity for Peace, I think studying martial arts is what brought Jay to a stronger belief in a universal connection. I find it incredibly hopeful (and pretty sexy) when he talks about putting positive energy into the world so someone else can feel that space and possibility. I love that we can connect through shared ideas about the power and responsibility of human kindness even if we don’t agree on what lies Beyond.

And yet, our personal journeys with religion do not solve the problem of what to do with our son’s penis. Or do they?

In many ways, Gillespie’s birth feels like my chance to truly uphold my end of the covenant. My parents gave me this inheritance of Judaism, which for so long meant doughy challah, a crush on my rabbi, and a warm temple library where I could find quiet in between Hebrew school classes. The Berit Mila could give my son the support and possible enlightenment of a time-honored tradition. It could give him a sense of belonging and protection, whether he chooses to be actively Jewish or not.

Equally valid are Jay’s ideas that if we do circumcise our son, we are imposing our will on him. Jay feels strongly that whatever we do shouldn’t commit him to any one faith. But if we have a doctor circumcise Gillespie in the hospital with no ceremony, that feels even colder and more barbaric. And what about the sanctity of letting him choose?

I wish this could end in a neat verdict. But it’s more like a to be continued. My role as mother now means keeping this discussion open in my family. Learning to articulate what and why we have our individual beliefs. I used to fear that I would do wrong by G-d. That I would sin so irrevocably, I could never earn His forgiveness. I often still list my mistakes and offenses when I sit down to pray. But I do not believe in a G-d who punishes or excludes someone from His fold because of the shape of his penis. This is what I know clearly, and can say with conviction to all of my children: I believe in a G-d who is all-accepting and all-loving, finding the good in each creature and each blade of grass.

So here is my half of the conversation that I’d like to start, and I hope one day soon my dear boy can answer me if he likes.

Hi, sweet Gillespie. This will be a running theme throughout your life, but Mama’s confused. I want to do right by you but I’m not sure what that is and also what will serve you best in the long run.

The long run? That’s a good question. Well, it means the future, but who am I to predict anything farther than what’s for supper? My job as mama is to live in the present tense with a generous heart and trust. Trust that the world will keep spinning and I will learn from my mistakes and you will find your own relationship with faith and G-d, whatever that means to you. All the covenants and sacrifices and candles and even latkes passed down are reminders of this one essential truth.

So right now? This moment, as you roll your body under my skin and give me such giddy anticipation with your hiccups. Right now, I feel like I should circumcise you so you can enjoy this connection with your Jewish brethren. But I also feel that I should let you be the perfect, untouched creature of astounding beauty that you already are. Connected with all humanity through your steadily beating heart.

And I’m trusting that the answer will come clear soon.

Abby Sher is the author of Amen, Amen, Amen: Memoir of a Girl Who Couldn’t Stop Praying. To learn more about Abby and her book, visit  http://abbysher.com/ .

Joseph G. was just a couple of years old when his family was forced to march to a ravine close to his home in Kyiv, Ukraine. There, Nazi soldiers shot almost the entire Jewish community of Kyiv. Few were able to hide under the piles of bodies and make it to tell the story.

Joseph survived. But his story is even more miraculous because at a time when few were willing to help their Jewish neighbors, a woman decided to act to save at least one person. She pulled Joseph out of a crowd being herded to Babi Yar. The Ukrainian woman was the neighborhood’s street sweeper and hid Joseph throughout World War II and then raised him as her own. No one else from his family survived those harrowing years.

Joseph was among a group of 15 Russian-speaking seniors who visited the Illinois Holocaust Museum and Education Center last week. The seniors are part of the Russian Senior Center at the Dina & Eli Field EZRA Multi-Service Center. Run by two Russian-speaking social workers, the program helps Russian-speaking seniors with filling out paperwork, English-language classes and cultural program, among its many offerings.

For this field trip, I had the privilege of serving as a translator.

I hadn’t been to the museum since it opened. The exhibits cover everything from Jewish life in pre-war Europe to Nazi massacres to the attempts at normalcy in the ghettoes to liberation and life post-war. It’s a hard path to walk, but one that made me keenly aware of all the benefits of living in a free society where my being Jewish – or a woman or Russian or any other way I identify – has no bearing on opportunities afforded to me.

Joseph was particularly agitated when we entered the Museum. He had donated an item to the collection: the medal recognizing his savior as a Righteous Gentile. In fact, a tree has been planted in her honor at Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust museum and the national memorial to victims of the Shoah.

I translated the placards, the sound recordings, the videos and photo captions as we walked through the winding rooms, passing from the dark, angular half into the light half of the Stanley Tigerman-designed Museum.

As we went, the group recalled their own experiences. Like Joseph, many lived in large Jewish communities. Three women remembered living in small towns in present-day Belarus and mourned the lives of their relatives who perished. Another woman was a communications operator for an infantry division. Still others fought with the partisans and only recently discovered information about Jewish partisans in the very same forests – like the Bielski brothers, whose stories were recently made into a film.

Joseph didn’t see his artifact in the collection, but was relieved to find out that it’s carefully catalogued and might be on display when the exhibits change in about six to nine months. He’ll get a postcard from the Museum when the medal is on view.

The visit was much more than a very welcome chance to practice my Russian and my simultaneous translation skills. The two narratives – of the group I was accompanying and of the exhibits themselves – converged into a much fuller, richer story.

I’m so excited for tonight’s Oy!Chicago fro-yo get together at my new favorite hot spot Forever Yogurt.  I LOVE fro-yo.  Love it!  Nothing beats a delicious bowl of smooth, creamy, soft-serve goodness topped with tasty treats.  It doesn’t matter what season, it’s always worth the trip.  I love fro-yo so much that I’ve been known to eat my cup, decide I didn’t get enough and get back in line for another scoop.  I also don’t play favorites.  Whether it’s tart and tangy a la Starfruit or sweeter than sweet a la Love’s, I eat it all.  I actually cried the day Treats closed for good in Lincoln Park. (I’ll forever miss you, blue cotton candy flavored yogurt.)

Jo-Jo’s = the best ice cream spot in Kauai!

I consider myself something of a fro-yo expert, so I thought in light of tonight’s event, I’d compile my list of the top 10 best places for yogurt in the city.

In no particular order they are…

Love’s
Ahh, who doesn’t love Love’s?!  I’ve been frequenting Love’s for as long as I can remember.  Just down the street from my high school, Love’s and I shared many after school dates.  The yogurt is delicious, but it always leaves me wanting more (see above.)  My boyfriend recently discovered the Love’s location at Chicago and Milwaukee (just off the blue line!), and for a man who doesn’t like sweets, he’s obsessed with the peanut butter flavor.

Starfruit
I discovered this place by chance, because it is located next door to my gym.  It quickly rose to the top of my list.  I don’t feel guilty stopping by after a workout because it’s low calories and good for the digestive system.  They have a great product, creamy and even a little sweet, at decent prices and mochi is one of many amazing toppings they offer.

Forever Yogurt
This place isn’t just on the list because we are headed there tonight.  This place kicks butt!  I live just down the street and I’ve made it a habit to visit here for my fro-yo fix.  There are 14 self-serve flavors for you to choose from— my favorites are the red velvet cake, mama’s cake batter and the Reese’s peanut butter cup— and more toppings than any other place I’ve been to.  Just be careful (even with tonight’s 25% discount), this place can be pricey.  It’s easy to overload when you’re in control and at 40 cents an ounce, it won’t come cheap.

Yogunfruz
This places takes probiotic fro-yo to a whole new level with the “mix its.”  They’ll blend any fruit or even chocolate to sweeten up your treat and that’s before toppings.  For those of you who want the benefits of probiotics without the sour taste, Yogunfruz is catering to you.

TCBY
Truly the countries best yogurt and it will forever hold a soft spot in my heart.  Growing up, TCBY was right down the street from my house and my dad I used to go all the time.  We’d both order the white chocolate mousse— it doesn’t get any better than that.

Berrychill
I know people swear by Berrychill’s yogurt, but when I’m looking for a delicious probiotic treat, I usually turn to Starfruit.  The yogurt is slightly sweeter and creamier than the Berrychill stuff, while still chockfull of live active cultures that make it good for your tummy.  I go to Berrychill because it offers hands down my favorite fro-yo topping of all time— smiley face cookies!

Dairy Queen
It was a sad day when Dairy Queen discontinued the “breezes” and gave up selling yogurt in the store all together.  But did you know that a small DQ sundae is only 163 calories or a small vanilla cone is 142 calories?  Who needs yogurt when you can eat the real thing for so little calories?!

Costco
What!?  You don’t go to Costco just for the yogurt?  Well, next time you’re stocking up on massive quantities of paper towels, make a beeline for the yogurt stand (usually located after the check out).  Costco has a great vanilla and they’ll add ton’s of fruit to it all at low Costco prices!  It’s a delicious steal!

TastiDlite
Yes, I know this isn’t actually a Chicago spot, but it is the founder of the guilt free fro-yo movement and therefore deserves a spot on my list.  With so many places popping up these days, I think it’s impressive that TastiDLite has been serving soft serve treats since 1987.  And according to the Tasti D Lite web site, an Illinois location is coming soon— fingers crossed!

Wow Bao
Again, when you think of Wow Bao, you probably don’t think yogurt.  But did you know that the Water Tower location has some of the best yogurt in the city?  Next time you’re in the mood for a few Baos, pair it with a cup of the pomegranate ginger or fresh hibiscus yogurt.  You won’t be sorry!

So there you have it— my top 10 fro-yo spots!  What do you think?  Agree, disagree?

During all the Blackhawk craziness in Chicago I searched and searched for a Jewish connection. Recently, I tracked down former Jewish Blackhawk Steve Dubinsky, who is still involved in the game through his sons and youth hockey. He was a really nice guy to talk to and still a big Hawks fan. Check out my interview with Dubinsky and celebrate the Hawks big win all over again:

The Great Rabbino: Did you follow the Blackhawks throughout the season? If so, how did you celebrate? 
Steve Dubinsky: Yes, I was rooting for them. It was extremely exciting. I was a firm believer that they would win. I was happy for the city and the organization. But on a personal level, it was not my place to celebrate.

What was the highlight of your playing career?
Probably my first goal against Vancouver in 1994.

Who is the greatest player you ever played against?
Probably Gretzky. Maybe Lemieux.

Who is the greatest goalie you ever face?
[Patrick] Roy, for sure.

Did you face any other Jewish hockey players during your time?
Yeah. Both Ronnie Stern and Mathieu Schneider.

What are you up to now?
I am in Edmonton for some youth hockey. There will also be a tournament in Vernon Hills, which will be great. I own a development company. Also, I work with Glacier Ice Arena in Vernon Hills.

Do your kids play?
All three of my boys play. My middle son is actually playing for the Junior Blackhawks.

Which is better: Chicago Stadium or the United Center? 
You just can't compare the old stadium.

Having lived in Chicago, what is your favorite Chicago pizza place?
For sure, Lou Malnatis.

Dubinsky suggested we check out www.selecthockey.com.

Thank you again to Dubinsky for answering our questions and taking the time out to speak with us.

Good luck in the future.

And Let Us Say...Amen.

For more on Jewish Sports check out www.greatrabbino.com