I was 14 years old, a Bais Yaakov of Baltimore student, when I opened up the Where What When for the first time – back when Chinese slippers, Steve Madden platforms, and messy buns were “in,” and “tamagachis” were all the rage. Memories come to mind of sitting around with my then-best friend Emily on Shabbos afternoons passing the time. The two of us would sit by the bay window in her house on Fallstaff Road and talk about “all the things” – from homework to teachers to friends to who’s walking by at the moment to what we were going to do on motzaei Shabbos – and then, in what started as a one-time thing and turned into a tradition, we opened up the Where What When. During those long Shabbos afternoons, we flipped through page after page of articles. Scouring the magazine for something interesting, we came across articles with titles like, “Ten Ways to Promote your Gut Health!” (What even is a gut?!), “To Refinance or Not To Refinance” (Is this from that Shakespeare play Mrs. Toso just read?), “How to Keep Kids Occupied on Long Trips” (Why do they even need an article about this; duh, just get us the latest thing!), and “Amazing Flax Seed Muffin Recipes” (Does it come in chocolate chip?). As teens, we quickly gave up our search and settled down with the shidduch column. At least that was nice and juicy!
What I realize
now, as an adult, which we did not realize then, is we were subconsciously
thirsty for relatable material, things to make us feel heard and understood,
whether fact or fiction. What’s so cool about fiction is that, although it’s
not true, in some ways it is easier to relate to. This character is not me, but
it could be me. This character sounds just like my friend Aviva; it’s not her,
but I totally get why she was acting like that in the story; maybe I can
understand Aviva better in real life?
In this new
column for teens you will read a variety of fiction, as well as non-fiction
stories. And we would like this to be a joint effort. If you have a topic or
story you would like us to cover (changing names and details, of course), feel
free to email me at MichelleShira@gmail.com with the subject line “story
idea,” and I will do my best to write about that particular subject,
integrating it into a story. If not, like I said before, sometimes fiction can
be even more powerful.
So, teens and tweens
alike (and anyone else who is interested), sit back and enjoy our first
ever “DMC.” And let us know what you think!
* * *
Pen
Pals
as told to Michelle Mond
Being the youngest in the
family definitely has its perks, but having an older sister in shidduchim cancels it all out. My name
is Chani Levy, and I’m part of the secret club that no one talks about. My sister Nechy has been dating for four
years. What does it mean to be a youngest and have no wedding collages decking
out your Hebrew binder? All I can say is: FOMO. All my friends with married
older sibs have gorgeous
collages displaying beaming brides, nieces and nephews, matching gowns, and
matching pumps. All I have to display on my binders are test calendars.
I remember Nechy’s first date like it was yesterday. The smell of leather
from fresh white patent leather shoes right out of the box from Kiki’s Boots
mixing with the excitement in the air was invigorating. Large sparkling bags
with all of Nechy’s new outfits from The Mimi Boutique made me feel euphoric. I
would soon join the club. Perhaps it was the smell of the freshly baked cookies
to put out for the boy on the living room table – but I was suddenly starving,
and antsy. Nechy, my older sister, wearing her gorgeous new pale pink peplum-top
first-date dress; how I wished this would be the guy for her!
Many
dresses have traded places with that one over the years, but I always liked
that one best. That first time, a boy named Meir Cohen arrived. I wasn’t
supposed to know, but of course I knew because of my on-point snooping skills.
He was tall and lanky, with kind green eyes, and carefully thanked my mother
for the delicious cookies. I couldn’t help but dance for Chani and Meir in my
mind. Running upstairs to the bedroom we share, I watched as they drove off
into the sunset. My brother Shmuli followed the car with his camera drone – it
was a date to remember.
Unfortunately,
it turned out to be not so memorable after all. It has been four years of the
same routine, and the excitement wore off much sooner than expected. I no
longer get excited for every date, and Shmuli is now in yeshiva and no longer
follows Nechy’s dates with drones. It was shortly after my parents hesitantly
decided to let Nechy start dating that they seemed to become jaded and uptight.
I have
learned to navigate living at home with a SIS (Sister in Shidduchim) – what I
and my SIS friends call it. We have learned that the best time to ask our
parents for things is when they are on the phone with the shadchan. If Mrs. Vogel calls, get out your wish list and ask
away!
“Ima, can I order that cute Kipling pencil case I was
looking at online last night?” or
“Maaa, can I order the same Goldengoose sneakers Ahuva has?”
We will surely be
responded to with an uncharacteristically calm, “Yes, sweetheart, great idea, I’ll be off the phone soon.” Spoiler
alert: Ma may or may not make you return it, depending on how happy she is with
how the current shidduch is going. You also get used to what I call the shidduch doodle (TSD for short). This is
a surprise doodle with a name and phone number on one or many of your notebooks
left out on the kitchen table. It was written on because it was the closest
writing material available to jot down details about prospective suitors when
the shadchan calls (because who has
time to run around looking for a fresh pen and paper?)
Every
once in a while you will hand in your math homework with a doodle on the back,
which states in hurried script, “Simcha Wolbe, 26 , 5’10” Flatbush, BMG – shadchan Mrs. Frier for update!! Sounds
perfect!! Call Aunt Hindy from Lakewood who might know his aunt’s cousin who
may have an in! 732-666-7890.”
Other
doodles might include other names of suitors. The worst is when Ima scrambles
around for that paper she wrote the new suggestion’s name on and can’t find it
because I handed in my take-home quiz.
“The homework ate my shidduch!” has become a family joke and Nechy’s
favorite line. But the best part of having a SIS is always being asked to talk
to my classmates about their brothers. I have gone through every single sibling
of every one of my friends and no one fits the bill for Nechy. I have already
resigned the position of shadchan; it
simply can’t be done.
Then
Covid hit and things got even worse. Shidduch
dating was on pause, which gave me no more opportunities to shidduch-shop, because shadchanim stopped calling. I tried
keeping busy with other things but the emotional temperature in the house was
high. I was super excited to get a fun assignment from our teacher about three
weeks into quarantine. During Zoom class, Mrs. Gold held a raffle, and everyone
would receive a pen-pal to write to during the duration of the Covid-19
pandemic. But my excitement bubble burst when I was paired with Tova Rosen – the quietest girl in the class. My
friends and I joke that even if she were paid to talk, she’d stay awkward. What
was I going to say to Tova already?
But, alas, the
assignment was mandatory. I confided with Tova about how weird it was to have
to wear masks, and how odd it was to see Ma stocking up on canned goods and
toilet paper. I told Tova about my family, our gardening projects, my siblings,
my shopping withdrawal, and more. After sending the first letter I was not
expecting much more than a plain sheet of paper with nothing on it in return. I
sat and waited for a response, which came surprisingly quickly. Apparently,
Tova wrote a whole lot more than she spoke out loud. She was actually funny and
had a lot to say through the pen, when it wasn’t face to face. But the most
important thing she said the entire quarantine were these four words,
“My brother came home.”
It was not long before I told my mom that Tova
had a 26-year-old brother named Avi who finally came home from the Mir in
Israel and sounded absolutely perfect for our Nechy. “How did you know!?” she
asked.
“From
my pen-pal, of course, his sister Tova. Yes, Tova. No, I never knew about him
before because his sister never talks!” The girl I thought was too shy, too
awkward, and if Covid had never hit, I would never in a million lifetimes have
gotten to know. It was only fair to call up my teacher Mrs. Gold and ask her to
be the shadchan, to which she
excitedly obliged. After all, she was the shaliach
to pair up Tova and me.
Avi
and Nechy went to a backyard dating venue for their first four dates. At the
first one, they actually brought their own chairs! When Nechy came home that
night she was fluttering around the house with a smile plastered to her face. Six
weeks passed by in a blur of online shopping, baking, eavesdropping, and cookie
making, until I was told the news. Actually, I overheard my mother on the phone
talking about it, which is just as good as told. An outdoor lechaim was planned, and I helped set it
up. In all those books and articles, when it says shidduchim come out of nowhere, I never could have understood it.
For years, Nechy had relied on shadchanim
and meetings deadending in one-and-dones. One English assignment to get a shidduch made, and the rest is history.
Although
I won’t be able to bring pictures to school, I am so excited to join the Married Sibling Club.
Despite not being able to go shopping for a new dress to wear to the lechaim tonight , the feeling of being a
piece of this shidduch is a feeling I
wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. Actually, I think I’ll wear Nechy’s
blush pink one for good luck, and change my Zoom pic to one from the lechaim.
