Any hospital stay, especially an unexpected one, can be a time of great stress. It’s bad enough that you are not feeling well and are stuck in this strange place rather than at home, where you are comfortable. On top of that is the vulnerability you or your family experience by not being sure of the outcome of this episode. Unfamiliarity with the health care staff, who are (hopefully) attending to your needs, creates another layer of anxiety. It’s confusing to even know “who’s who.” Is this person entering the room a PA? Intern? Resident? Nurse? Doctor? Mickey Mouse? (If you see Mickey Mouse, you may need an adjustment to your medications.) Even when you feel you are receiving excellent treatment, it is obvious you are not the only patient your doctor or nurse needs to tend to, and understaffing can be a problem.

hey say the pen is mightier than the sword. But sometimes it helps to have a gun.

The question of what to do about guns in America has come to the fore as mass shootings – whether of the terrorist or “mentally ill” variety – seem to occur more and more often, not to mention home invasions and other crimes. Might private citizens owning and carrying guns have prevented some of these terrible incidents? But what about the tragic consequences of easy access to guns, including accidents, suicides, and crimes of passion?  

Way back in the 1940s, when the founders of Bais Yaakov established the mission of the new school for girls – creating the Jewish “mothers of tomorrow” – they most likely didn’t envision one of its graduates doing her mothering in the heart of diplomatic Washington! But then again, maybe they did. Because being a Jewish woman and mother encompasses all the circumstances in which she might find one day herself. Rhoda Dermer (nee Pagano), wife of the Israeli ambassador to the U.S. Ron Dermer, and mother of five, is an outstanding example of such a woman, who represents the Bais Yaakov ideal among the leaders of the world.

Born and raised in the heart of our Baltimore community, Rhoda took a roundabout route to D.C. diplomatic circles. A Bais Yaakov graduate, she attended Stern College for Women and Columbia University in New York. Later, she graduated from Yale Law School. Although the trajectory of her life may not be exactly what she and her friends envisioned all those years ago, she is filling her current roles – mothering and more – with aplomb, all the while remaining loyal to the values her parents and teachers instilled in her.

Rhoda stays in contact with many of her BY and childhood friends. One of them, Aliza L, remains close to Rhoda to this day. “I’m actually not surprised about Rhoda’s position and her path in life,” says Aliza. “She is an extremely bright and accomplished woman. She’s a great friend, and I am glad we are still close and can share experiences and have our children grow up to know each other even if we live far apart.” And Naomi W, a more distant classmate, nevertheless remembers Rhoda as being a studious and diligent student who was very bright and a class leader: “She was very kind and refined, and people always gathered around her.”

The flowers adorning every bima or aron kodesh I saw this Shavuos, as well as every dining or coffee table of the homes I visited awakened in me a curious (in both senses of the word) thought: It may be pure speculation on my part, but I can’t help but wonder when man began growing flowers simply for their looks and fragrance. Spices are fragrant, true, but their main function is to flavor and preserve food. All other agricultural produce is grown for consumption – whether by humans or their animals. When did people decide to grow lovely plants, like roses, orchids, and daffodils – not for any practical purpose but simply for beauty and olfactory pleasure?

I often try to imagine what the lives of my great-great grandparents were like in Poland. (Or was it Russia? I guess it depends on what day of the week it was.) I also can’t help but wonder what threads tie those mostly anonymous shtetl forebears to us, living more than a century later. What is the enigma of Jewish continuity, which wends its mysterious way through the generations? My curiosity was partially satisfied recently through a new friend.

A few months ago, I became a volunteer at Levindale. My official “job” is in the gift shop, but I’ve also had a chance to meet many of the elderly residents. Though not all of them have the ability to remember their past and communicate well, many do, and have regaled me with fascinating stories. I had planned to do short profiles on several people I met, but after speaking with resident Rosalie Wolfson, who is well into her 90s, I felt compelled to write about her and her interesting family.

“I laughed, I cried, I lost 15 pounds! I cannot recommend this book highly enough!” So said Stephen Colbert in reviewing his own book. Though I haven’t seen Colbert’s book, I suspect that many people feel the same way about Marie Kondo’s slim volume, the life-changing magic of tidying up: the Japanese art of decluttering and organizing. (Apparently, she didn’t want to clutter up the title with capital letters.)

As winter draws to a close, and Pesach looms ahead, the time is right to examine the remarkable cultural phenomenon triggered by this little book. How did it remain on the New York Times’ bestsellers list for over 66 weeks, take the world by storm, and achieve cult-like status? Has there never been a book written about tidying up before? Have we suddenly discovered that we have too much stuff and it needs to be organized? What happened to warrant the sale of five million copies of this book as well as licenses to print it in 40 languages? Is there something new under the sun?