Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts

Monday, April 18, 2016

What Honeywell Thermostat Company Taught me about Life







Dear Henry,
      I am not one to usually toot my own horn, or even blow my own shofar,  but at the risk of sounding arrogant, I wanted to share with you something I did that I am proud of. You see, last Friday was a rather warm day in the Denver Metro area. We were well into the 70s, approaching the low 80s. When I went into my house I noticed it was uncomfortably hot. It was even hotter than a hot air balloon floating peacefully over an Alaskan Rain-forest. Naturally, I walked over to my Honeywell Thermostat to turn on the air conditioner for the first time all season. And as I tried lowering the temperature to a heavenly 67 degrees, to my chagrin, I remembered that for some mysterious reason my thermostat does not go lower than 72 degrees. As that unfortunate realization set in, I began to accept the fact that I would be spending the upcoming Shabbos shvitzing like a overheated porcupine in the Zimbabwean swamp lands. 
      In a state of sheer desperation, a thought flashed in my head like a bolt of colorful lightening: maybe it would be worth a shot to go ahead and call the kind folks at Honeywell to see if they could help me. Sure enough, oh Henry, that is exactly what I did. After dialing the number I spoke to a man, for anonymity sake we will call Carlos. Carlos patiently listened as I explained the issue. After putting me on hold for two minutes he gave me instructions. I followed his instructions and to my utter delight, I was able to lower my air conditioning as low as I wanted it. Apparently someone in the past had  set it up such that it could not go under 72 degrees, and for many years that was the lowest temperature the thermostat could go-- that was at least until Carlos came to the rescue.
     I genuinely was overwhelmed with joy. I pictured walking in from synagogue the next morning, eager to enter my house to escape the treacherous heat. And I envisioned that blissful feeling one experiences when walking into his colder than ice cold house on a hot summer day. Without thinking, I expressed my joy and satisfaction to Carlos, who was still on the line. I explained to him how happy he made me-- how I didn't think this thermostat issue was fixable without replacing my whole furnace. I told him that I had not experiences such joy since the day the Broncos won the Superbowl. I instinctively asked him if his manager was there so I could tell them how wonderful Carlos was to me. A bit taken aback, Carlos readily obliged and put his manager on the phone. I proceeded to describe in gory detail how helpful he was, and to express how I didn't understand how any human being in their right mind wouldn't turn Honeywell when looking for a new thermostat. 
        Upon hanging up with Carlos's manager, a lady, for the sake of anonymity we will refer to as Chelsea, I heard the furnace kick into full gear. I ran to nearest vent and places my bear hand against it, feeling the ice cold air filling up my house. Basking in joy, I started dancing. I then decided it would be appropriate to take to Twitter. I recall many times reading angry tweets people direct to companies (usually airlines) complaining about the service. I decided to take to Twitter to tweet to my hundreds of followers (you, too, my dear reader can  be included among them by following @dannywolfe1) a happy tweet, praising the Honeywell customer service.
As you can see above, I tweeted, and I know quote, "@honeywell_home I thought my thermostat was busted until your customer service guy saved the day! Great work!" Honeywell then responded, and that's when's I tweeted them the following: 
Honeywell appreciated that, and even gave me a compliment telling me I am "too funny."

    The Talmud tells us a story in Shabbos 31A about a non Jew who wanted to convert. He came before the great Sage Hillel, who told him what he needs to know about Judaism: What is displeasing to you, don't do to your companion-- this is the entire Torah, everything else is merely commentary, Now go learn!
     We see from this a very basic principle that the Torah itself alludes to when it says, "Love your neighbor like you love yourself." What we would want for ourselves we should do to others, and what we wouldn't want for ourselves, we should not to do others. That means that if I wouldn't want an angry customer criticizing me to my boss, I shouldn't be so quick to critique an employee to his boss. If I wouldn't want to be be pushed out of the line for kiddush, I shouldn't push my way to the front of the kiddush line. If I would not want to be spoken about behind my back, I should not speak about others behind their backs. If I would not want the entire audience I am speaking to during a sermon fall asleep, I also, should try my hardest not to fall asleep when other people speak. Conversely, if I would want other people to compliment my efforts to my boss, I should be quick to compliment workers to their boss. If I would want to receive an encouraging comment, I should be quick to give a nice comment. If I would want help shlepping groceries from my car, I should be quick to help others shlep groceries from their car. If I would want company and companionship when frolicking in a Kansas meadow, I should be quick to volunteer my time to friends in need of companionship. If I would want the Better Half to buy me some M&Ms from an Idaho rest stop on a long road trip, I should also be naturally inclined to buy her M&Ms at an Idaho rest stop, even if she didn't ask, and I am not a prophet who knows for sure what she wants without her communicating that to me.
      Many times in life we are quick to see, and point out, the negative in other people. But our Rabbis also teach us that if we want G-d to give us the benefit of the doubt, we sure as heck better give everyone around us the benefit of the doubt as well. There is no doubt that if we take the time to acknowledge the good in G-d's children, G-d, will take the time so to speak,  to acknowledge the good in us as well.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe




Sunday, November 1, 2015

Why I am Gearing up for a Royal Celebration: an Open Letter to Mets Fans







Dear Met fans everywhere,
      A lot of my thousands upon thousands of readers across the vast expanse of the planet have been asking me, somewhat upset, why it is I am so avidly rooting on the Kansas City Royals this World Series. I have spent many years in New York, and many people I greatly admire are die hard Mets fans. Additionally, inasmuch as the same folks rooting on the Royals also root for the hated Kansas City Cheifs, it is a fair question. 
      Let me begin by acknowledging that I admire you Mets fans to no end. As a life long fan of the most disgraceful franchise in sports, the Colorado Rockies, I can relate to what you have gone through the last 20 years: year after year watching a pathetic team finish close to last place. But my admiration for you goes deeper than that. You could have just as easily jumped on the Yankee band wagon all those years. But you didn't. You remained loyal to your lousy Mets. Loyalty is a huge thing. And I appreciate it; I really do. In fact, if the Mets were playing the Yankees, I would root hard for the Mets. If they played the Rangers, the Angels, or the White Sox, I would take the Mets. There is one team from the American League, and one team only, that I would root for to beat the Mets; and that is the Kansas City Royals.
      Last night, as I left synagogue, I heard one person say, "I don't care who wins; I can guarantee you they don't care about me; why should I care about them?" I have heard this refrain from people who don't care for sports on more than one occasion. And I hear it. Why do so many millions of us allow our moods and happiness level be determined by a group of talented dudes who don't give a darn about is? How does that make any sense?
     The thing is, dear Peyton, and you Mets fans everywhere, when it comes to the Royals, this logic simply doesn't apply. Because they do care about me. When my family moved from New York to Denver, my then six month old daughter got very sick on the road. We had to stop for a scary, long, ten day stay at the hospital in downtown Kansas City. (For more on this read http://rabbidannywolfe.blogspot.com/2015/07/a-plea-to-g-d-on-rosh-chodesh-av.html)
And on the fifth day we were there, as I was leaving to drive to Denver to take care of my other three children, I saw the Kansas City Royals posing for pictures at the front of the hospital. About 15 minutes later my wife called, and said, The Royals are here visiting, should I have them come see our baby? "OF COURSE YOU SHOULD YOU SILLY GOOSE" was my immediate reply.  I was so touched by them taking the time to visit my daughter, fulfilling a very special mitzvah we call bikur cholim, visiting the sick, that I stopped at the first gas station I found and spent ten dollars on a Royals hat. My wife called me a few hours later and told me two fellows named Mike Moustakis and Jason Vargas came by, and they left a signed hat for my daughter, who despite being only 9 months old, and despite living in Denver now, is also an avid Royals fan.
      In yesterday's Torah reading we read how G-d paid Abraham a little visit while Abraham was recovering from the exceedingly painful circumcision. We see from here that visiting the sick is not just a good thing to do: It is emulating G-d Himself. Those who visit the sick are G-d like. 
Additionally, in Hebrew, the word for "Jews" is Yehudim. It means "grateful ones." We believe that we are required to show hakaras hatov, or recognition of good (ie gratitude) for every good deed performed for us. It is not just a nice thing to do, it is our duty. Conversely, when someone does something good for us, and we don't acknowledge the favor, that is a bad thing. When G-d created Eve for Adam as a life partner with whom to share his life, and to perpetuate humanity, G-d performed for him an enormous kindness. And yet when G-d asked Adam why he ate from the fruit that he was not allowed to eat in the Garden of Eden, Adam blamed his wife, Eve, saying, "it was the woman you gave to me who made me eat it." This was the first example in history of a person being an ingrate, and Adam is ultimately punished for it.
       To put it very simply, when someone showers us with a kind act, we are obligated to be grateful. Therefore, it is not my choice whether or not to root for the Royals; it is my duty. Tonight, when they win the Series in 5 games I, along with my 9 month old daughter will be engaging in a Royal Celebration.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe
      





Thursday, March 26, 2015

Close Call on I-87






Dear Henry,
      Three and a half weeks ago, my Better Half, six-week old daughter, and myself went to a beautiful wedding in New Jersey. While it was a 2.5 hour drive, we love weddings, and were excited to attend. Little did I know, as we set off for New Jersey, that this day would change our lives. What I am about to write, oh Henry, is kind of personal. I am going through with writing it, because in life, inspiration does not last. It is as fleeting as a shooting star, quickly darting across the vast sky in the Utah Canyon lands.  I therefore am writing this as a reminder to myself of this inspiring, life-changing day, so that I can take some concrete steps to hold on to the inspiration.
      About an hour into our lovely ride down to the weddng, a ride which I savored because I was able to have alone time with my lovely wife, and we were able to speak without any interruptions, I noticed it began snowing. No big deal, thought I, we live in upstate New York, it snows every day, I am an expert driver in the snow, and we have All Wheel Drive. As we got closer and closer to the wedding, the snow became heavier and heavier. Still, I remained unfazed. At the wedding, I checked my phone for weather updates, and realized that the snow was not really letting up; there were winter advisories for the entire New York City area until 3 AM that night. To put it simply, it was a winter wonderland out there.
       After the beautiful wedding, we got some very cheap New Jersey gas, and were on the road. It started off uneventful enough. We took a dinner stop near Monsey NY, and shortly thereafter, were on the road again. About fifteen minutes after leaving Monsey, I was annoyed as the grandmotherly driver in front of me was driving about twenty miles per hour. We were on the portion of the highway which has three lanes, and I switched from the center lane to the left lane, preparing for what I thought would be a routine lane change in which I would pass her. It started off as expected, but as I attempted to change back to the center lane, something unexpected occurred. As I began switching lanes, at about 50 MPH, the car, who I call Hindy the Hyundai started to swerve, and I lost control of her. To our utter horror, we did a complete 180 degree turn, and as we came to a stop, we were dreadfully facing oncoming traffic, on this busy, three lane section of the New York Thruway. At this point, the only words we could muster were, "Hashem!! (G-d!!)," as we braced for impact. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, just waiting for the end, and witnessing car after car miraculously pass us by, my Better Half came up with an idea that might well have saved our lives. She told me to immediately turn on the emergency  blinking lights, and to start honking non stop, to alert the oncoming cars. Through nothing short of the grace of the Almighty, car after car drove past us, I turned the car back around, and we were on our merry way without even a scratch on our car.
      My heart was beating faster than the Colorado Rockies will tank this upcoming season, and I was truthfully, unsure that we were still among the living. I had read some crazy stories of near death experiences, and as an observant Jew I fervently believe in the eternity of the soul, and I was unsure where I was. I pinched myself, and asked my Better Half if we were still alive. She started laughing, in a pure expression of ecstasy, and explained that we were in fact still alive. As we passed a minor car accident on the side of the road, I realized how fortunate we were; as the cars were approaching I would have given anything to only suffer a minor accident; and yet here we were, totally unscathed.
      From this experience, oh Henry, I came across ten important lessons that I want to share with you tonight:
1) I realized, without any shadow of a doubt, that miracles still exist today. As the holiday of Passover approaches, a holiday in which we remember the incredible miracles G-d did for us in taking us out of the bondage of Egypt, I am able to reflect on my own, personal miracle--the fact that I am able to write this blogg at this very moment. Every car that passed me and didn't hit me was a miracle. It would have only taken one person reaching over for a drink, looking away from the road, texting, or changing the radio station, and everything could have ended differently. If we would have left from our previous stop thirty seconds earlier or later, everything could have been different. We just "happened" to be on the short three lane section of the Thruway, leaving ample room for every car to swerve around me. After this experience I have no doubt that G-d still is in the business of performing miracles for His beloved children.
 2)      A second lesson I learned, with clarity, is that there is nothing but G-d. My first words after we turned around, were, "Ain Od Milvado." There is simply nothing but G-d. I trusted my fancy shmancy All Wheel Drive; but at the end of the day, I am only here; as are all of my thousands upon thousands of my devoted readers across the globe, as a result of G-d's will, and G-d alone.  We put our trust in gadgets, and technology, but at the end of the day, it all comes down to G-d. As the dollar bill says, "In G-d we Trust."
3)      A third lesson I learned was that it is important to ask ourselves, on a regular basis, "have I accomplished everything I hope to?" As the cars were rapidly approaching us, I realized that there is so much more I want to accomplish in my life. The talmud teaches, "If not now, when?" The commentators explain, if I do not accomplish now, in this physical world, when can I? After a person dies and is removed from his body, he can no longer accomplish anything-- that is the tragedy of death. As a poet once said, "If you had one shot, or one opportunity to seize everything you ever wanted, would you capture it, or let it slip, yo."
4)     On a similar note, a fourth profound lesson I learned is that I need to simply stop wasting so much time. Now with the invention of the smart phone, time wasting is easier, and more addicting than ever. But do I really need to spend so much time reading ESPN articles? Does it really matter in the big scheme of things that Lebron James doesn't care that Kevin Love thinks Russell Westbrook is the NBA MVP? Is reading about that an acceptable use of my precious time? This experience showed me that we are very, very mortal. We need to be real with that. We often go through our early years thinking we are invincible; but our invincibility is simply an illusion. Like every human being before us, we will one day die. We need to think about that, and use our time accordingly.
5)     Another critical lesson I learned is that I am here for a reason. I was in a situation in which G-d could have very easily decided that my time was up. Yet somehow, He miraculously spared me. This is true of all of us. If we are still here; if our hearts are still palpitating, we have a mission that we must set out to accomplish. A great rabbi named Rabbi Kook explains that before a person is born, there is no point in his being alive, because his mission and life assignment did not yet exist. Once he is born, there is a mission created that hey--and only he-- can fulfill. If G-d forbid a person is not fulfilling his mission, than what exactly is the point for him to remain in the world? We need to make sure to focus on fulfilling our life's mission.
6)    I also learned that there is a spiritual reality going on that I cannot perceive with all of my senses; yet I know it is still there. Just as there are constantly sound waves traveling around that I cannot see, or touch, and yet I know they are present, so too there is a spiritual reality that exists, despite my inability to see it, or touch it. I came to realize this when I began asking the question, in what merit were we saved? We definitely have no way of knowing how G-d runs the world, but perhaps we were spared because the Better Half made a heartfelt tefillas haderech before we left-- a blessing praying for our well being as we embarked upon our journey. Or, perhaps we were saved as a result of a young rabbi's blessing to us. At the wedding I had struck up a great conversation with a rabbi at our table, and before we got up to leave, he asked for me to bless him. Caught off guard, I muttered the first thing that came to my mind. I asked him to return the favor, and he proceeded to give me one of the most beautiful blessings I ever heard in my life. In Judaism we assume words are very powerful; they can build people up, or G-d forbid, tear them down. In this case, his kind words might have saved our lives. There is a spiritual reality, and our every action has massive ramifications of which we are usually unable to perceive.
7)      At the same time though, while it is important to consider what might have been the merit that saved us, it is also important to realize that it was G-d Himself who put us in this precarious situation to begin with. Why might that be? There is a concept called making a Cheshbon HaNefesh, literally an accounting of the soul. It is important to look back and break down what we do, and how we can improve. Again, without knowing how G-d works and does what He does, I did realize I had done something on this particular night that I had never done before. About fifteen minutes before we skidded on the road, I for the first time ever, trolled a journalist on twitter. In Judaism, there is no place for "trolling" or cruelty. This was a lesson I will not forget.
 8)     Of all the lessons I learned, what very well might have been the most crucial one, is that by the mere fact that we are alive, we necessarily have SO much to be happy about. In the initial moments after the close call, I was shaken up. The next day though, I was simply euphoric. I woke up, and gleefully kissed my children before going to synagogue. At synagogue, I said an emotional blessing one says after surviving a dangerous situation. When I got home after synagogue, my children were fretting about not having eaten enough breakfast; they were very near throwing a full blown temper tantrum. The old Danny would have been annoyed; but the new Danny was overjoyed as my son threw a fit for not being allowed to eat a pot of oatmeal two minutes before we were meant to leave for school. As I put my kids in the car, my two year old son demanded to close the door, as he always does. The problem, is that he doesn't know how to put on his seatbelt by himself, and he cannot close the door while strapped in. So he threw a fit. The old Danny would get agitated, but on this day, I exuded pure joy at being able to witness his antics. After I dropped my kids off at school, I listened intently to the gorgeous sound of the wind blowing on this sunny twenty-five degree day. Usually I would have been super annoyed that it was still so freezing despite the fact that it was now March. Today, I had tears streaming down my face, savoring the spine tingling, bone chilling wind. As I approached my house, I heard a loud garbage truck screechy breaks. I started crying again, so overjoyed to hear that magical sound. I said out loud in my car, "My name is Danny Wolfe, and I am ALIVE! At the end of the day, when my children got home, I ran to great them. So many days go by where they get home and I barely look up from the computer. But not today, today I was a new person. I would run around the house looking for ways to help my wife, pick up the toys, do diapers, etc... Of course I wanted to help out, after all I am alive! This day was nothing short of living a day of unadulterated ecstasy.
9)      A ninth lesson I learned is very crucial, and it can be easily summed up by an important acronym: JLIG: Just Let It Go, or if you prefer, IJNWI: It's Just Not Worth It. So many of us are fighting with people over the most petty of things. But I got news for you; we are alive; just let it go! When the cars were approaching me, how much did the beef I had with anyone matter? What if something terrible happened to someone I had a conflict with? Then how would l I feel? JLIG. Just let it go. Life is too short to hold petty grudges. IJNWI: It's Just Not Worth It.
10)     Finally, a 10th Lesson I learned is that, as Maimonides says, it is very important for a person to take care of himself. We need to make sure we are eating healthy, and exercising, so we can continue to operate in this world, and remain healthy, viable human beings. Life is short, and we need to take care of ourselves. We have a mission we must accomplish. I need to make sure I can be around to raise my children, and to love and cherish my wife. It is crucial that we take care of ourselves.
     I learned, dear Henry, that being alive is not simple. Everyone reading this blogg, regardless how difficult your life is, has so much to be grateful for, not only because you're are once again being dazzled by my brilliance, but really by mere virtue of your being alive.
     This Passover, as we celebrate G-d's miracles He did for us years ago, I will be celebrating my own miracles He performed for me, and my own rebirth into an appreciative dude who is simply so happy to be here. A few days ago I returned to upstate New York after a Spring Break trip to Denver, where it was seventy degrees the whole time. As I was greeted by sixteen degree freezing weather, I was tempted to complain about the contrast, and living in New York. But I stopped, and realized that if my biggest problems and annoyances are the weather, then I am the most fortunate man alive. With so much in life to be overjoyed about, I have no excuses to complain. After all, I am still alive.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe








Thursday, February 5, 2015

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff; Savor it















Dear Henry,
       Last Wednesday my family and I decided to embark upon our first journey since we our little princess was born. It didn't take long until I noticed that as hard as it was to get out of the house with five us, with six, it was nearly impossible. But thank the L-rd we were able to pile into the car, and all get our seat belts snuggly on. Besides for my two week old baby bawling like I did after watching Cinderella Story when I was 18 , and my two year old screaming because he is a middle child, there was a certain serenity that overcame us all in the car. I began to take a deep breath as I pressed the button on the garage door opener. But after a few seconds, I noticed, to my horror, the garage was not opening. I tried again, but to no avail. I remained as calm as Tom Brady was, down by 3 points in the 4th quarter of the Super Bowl, as I figured the garage door was stuck on some ice, and I began to dig around the garage door, to help it open. But when I clicked the opener, again, the silly door did not budge, the same way I wouldn't budge if you tried to cut me in a line to get cake. At this point all my four children were shrieking, as we shlepped them out of the car, and sent them dutifully back upstairs.
      That night, an incredible young strapping lad who we will call Dru came over and helped me open the garage so I could pull the car out; but when we shut it, we found that the silly garage would not reopen. That night, about 14 inches of snow fell innocuously on my unsuspecting car. For the next week, as we would load the car, we would be holding our children like footballs as we hurdled down our snowy icy staircase en route to our frozen beauty on wheels.
       The next day, I woke up to notice that the weather had reached a crisp -11 degrees Fahrenheit. As I walked to the sink to try to make myself an intensely caffeinated beverage, to my horror, the water did not turn on. Apparently, because my garage was operating manually, it was kind of cracked open, which let the frigid air into my garage, and this froze the water pipes. This meant no water, no showers, and best, no flushing the potty.
      What I wanted to discuss, dear Henry, is that these two experiences, (namely having my garage break, and my water freeze,) led me to a deeper understanding of what my 1st grade teacher Rondi used to sing to us in a song that she presumably wrote: "Don't it always seem to be that you don't know what you got till its gone; they paved Paradise and put up a parking lot." Henry, I will be honest with you. Despite loading my children in the car several times a day conveniently by using our indoor garage, I never stopped to feel grateful for being blessed with the ability to make use of such an amazing invention. Several times a day, every day, my kids walked through my warm house into a reasonably temperate car sitting cozily in the garage. With one slight movement of my index finger our car whizzes out, and we are on our way. I not once ever stopped to consider how convenient this garage makes our life, and how fortunate I am to be able to make use of it.
       More importantly dear Henry, is that I don't think I ever once stopped to consider how blessed we are to be able to make use of running water whenever we so desire. Without running water, not only would I be a zombie, being forced to function in the slow lane, but on a deeper level I would not be able to live in sanitary conditions with a working toilet, and more depressingly, I would not be able to survive without being able to drink water; as Matisyahu himself says in his best song ever, "If you got no water, how you gonna survive?"
      These experiences have shown with pristine clarity that happiness is not the attainment of money, nor wild and crazy escapades across the world; but rather if one is able to perceive the myriad of gifts in his life. The key to happiness is not  to sweat the small stuff, but to savor it.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

Thursday, December 25, 2014

When was the Last Time you Thanked your Garbage Man?

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Dear Henry,
       Today December 25, is a National Holiday that approximately 250,000,000 Million Americans celebrate. For some Americans, like myself, this is a day in which there is blessedly no traffic, in which I consume enormous amounts of Chinese food. But for the majority of Americans, this day is a very spiritual, special day. And since this day falls on a Thursday this year, a handful of these 250,000,000, spent their night last night, on December 24th, collecting the garbage in the frozen, quiet city streets. Last night, instead of spending time with their families, sipping hot Cocoa by the fire place, knitting mittens and playing Monopoly, a number of amazing individuals went out to work. For them, work means standing on the back of a car, in sub-zero weather, stopping every ten feet to empty dirty, smelly garbage into the back of their trucks. After doing this for one house, they continue on, and on, and on, the longer they continue on, the colder the temperature becomes.
     In my opinion, our garbage men and women, as they case may be, are exceedingly inspiring Americans that we all ought to learn from, for several reasons. Firstly, have you ever stopped to think about the service they provide for us? Imagine for a moment, that there was not garbage collection? Where would we put our dirty diapers, or our nasty smelling spoiled cantaloupe? We would just leave it in our backyards? Even if there was a dump we could take it to, how excited are you to transport the putrid smelling rubbish you have accumulated over the last week? How long will it take for that horrific smell to finally disappear from your car? These heroic garbagemen and garbagewomen, as the case may be, are providing you and I an enormously important service. And for that we are obligated to thank them.
   In addition we can all bask in admiration of our local garbage collection team for their dedication to their jobs, and their hard work. What job is there that requires more effort and sacrifice? Up here in the frigid Northeastern tundras, it gets bloody cold. And yet, every week, no matter what the temperature, rain, shine, hail, snow, blizzards, monsoons, what have you, they come, every single week, without fail. Are we as dedicated to our jobs as they? Are we willing to invest as much as they are? All I can do, is tip my metaphorical hat in admiration.
   Finally, we should give them credit for dutifully performing their jobs, despite not receiving any thanks, or positive feedback. Human beings crave compliment, and positive reinforcement. Mark Twain himself said, "I can live for two months on a good compliment." And even if you wanted to, like a mighty flash of lightening, the garbage truck can come roaring by like a mighty lion ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey, at any time, whether we are ready for it or not. Sometimes, in the grey, cold, Northeast, the garbage truck comes cruising down the block at 4:00 in the morning. Even the most noble intentioned Americans out there are not going to be waiting for the garbage man at 4:00 AM in their flannel jammies. It is a more thankless job than being a clergy member. And yet, they come through every single week. And even if they were mad at you for having too much garbage, what can they do about it? At least a waiter in a restaurant who is mistreated can spit in your food, or something. Not so with the garbage man. He just comes through for you, EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK.
       So Henry, I ask you the following question: When was the last time you thanked your garbage man? I triple dogg dare all of my thousands upon thousands of dedicated readers from Idaho to Belize, from Montana to Dji Bouti-- figure out a way to acknowledge your local garbage collectors for their hard work. Maybe glue a gift card onto the garbage bin, or tie a bow around it with a note. We all need to look at ourselves in the mirror and honestly answer the following very difficult question: When was the last time I thanked my garbage man?

Forever Yours,
Danny Wolfe






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Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Day off in Israel







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Dear Henry, 
   
  This past Monday, the wonderful opportunity arose for me to take  a day off, and go to Israel to attend my littlest nephew's bris. A lot of people might be thinking, that's a very interesting place to go for a day off. On a day off, perhaps it would make more sense to go to the nature reserve for some bird watching, go to the farm for some good old fashion cow tippin, or to do some blueberry picking. How does it make sense to drive three hours to the airport, wait three hours for my flight, sit on the cross Atlantic flight for 10 hours, spend a day in Israel for the sake of a 2 minute service and an accompanying breakfast, then, that night, go to the airport, hours before my flight, and do the same exact thing, just this time wait 2 more hours on the plane since I am flying against the jet stream? Well Henry, and all you doubters out there, I am here to tell you that all of this was 100% worth it; I would do it 1000 times more, and I recommend you take a day off in Israel as well. 
     There are three glaring, obvious reasons this is true.  The first reason is that Israel is a place unlike any other. Any opportunity to go there is an outstanding privilege that should not be passed up. We are talking about the land that Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob treaded with their own two feet. This is the place that Moses so desperately desired to go, but tragically, couldn't. This is a place that we have been exiled from for the last 2000 years. This is where G-d's presence is so concentrated and easily perceived, where miracles happen every single day.  This is the center of the universe where being a Jew comes as natural as a colorful butterfly spreading her beautiful wings at Colorado's Butterfly Pavilion. As I once heard quoted by a great rabbi, being Jewish in America is like being a Polar Bear in the Bronx Zoo. Being Jewish in Israel is like being a Polar Bear in the The North Pole. Thus, I ask you, how on G-d's green earth could I have passed up the opportunity to be in Israel even for one day? What would the millions of Jews brutally persecuted in the Diaspora over the past 2000 years have given for ONE DAY in Israel? What would they have given, how much money would they have paid?
      Thus as I got out of the car Sunday evening  in a quiet lovely little place called Nof Ayalon, I took an intense, deep breath, and as my lungs were filled with the pristine, holy air of Israel, I honestly would have been content getting back in the car, going to the airport and heading home. That one breath of Israel reinvigorated me, rejuvenated me and reignited a spark from deep within me that words cannot adequately describe.
       There is a second reason I have absolutely no regrets about my day off in Israel. Quite simply, I was able to be with my family who I rarely see, at a major joyous life cycle event. If there is one thing my Pops taught me growing up, it is that family is everything. I was blessed growing up in a beautiful, loving family. In addition to my wife and kids, there is no one I would rather spend the holidays with than my Momma and Pops, my Bro and his family, and my baby sister and her family. I was also able to see my uncle, aunt and 4 little cousins. Being with my loving family at such a collective joyous, blissful moment-- celebrating the bris of my nephew, effectively welcoming him into G-d's eternal covenant with the Jewish People, was nothing less than magical. Celebrating together with my family was worth every second of the over 22 hours of flying time.  As my brother-in-law beautiful declared as the bris was happening, "Blessed are You, Lord our G-d, King of the universe, who has enabled me to live, and has sustained me, and has brought me, to this (glorious) day." 
     And finally, dear Henry, the third reason that taking a day off in Israel was an amazing idea that my thousands upon thousands of readers across the vast universe should do is that it drove home what I believe is one of the most crucial ideas a person can comprehend in his life time.  The Mishna states: the day is short; but there's a lot of work. Our time in this world is not infinite. We will be here hopefully 80-90 years, but in the large scheme of the universe that is but a minuscule fraction. Being in Israel for all of one day drove this point home very hard. I had 24 hours in Israel. Was I going to use that reading articles from ESPN, or playing snake on my phone? Or was I going to cherish every one of my precious moments in the Holy Land? Being in Israel for one day made me realize I didn't have time to waste. I had to wisely use every second. And as I waited for my plane on which I currently comfortably sit in my row to myself, I realized that although I arrived at this very airport YESTERDAY, it seems like a week ago- because in the last 24 hours I bonded with my parents, sister, nephew, brother in law, aunt, uncle, 4 little cousins, and my

sister's amazing in-laws. I also learned Torah in Israel, prayed at the Western Wall, visited some old friends, went to my rugelech guy, and falafel guy, ate a mind-blowing sufganiya, and engaged in one of my favorite Israeli pastimes by schmoozing with an Israeli taxi driver. In one day I accomplished an enormous amount. How much can I accomplish if I use my time so efficiently 365 days a year for 120 years? I believe the potential is endless.
    As I sit here, somewhere over the vast Atlantic Ocean with an hour to go in my flight, I know I will be at work in a few hours and this will all feel like a distant dream. But it is a dream I dare not forget.

Sincerely
Danny Wolfe




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Monday, May 26, 2014

An Open Thank You Letter to the Dude who Taught me about Relationships


Dear Dude who lives on Manning Street who who I see outside every morning at 7:15 AM,
      You do not know who I am, and I don't know you; but you inspire me greatly. You don't know me, and likely have never seen me, but I feel like I have known you for years. I, like many other passengers in automotive vehicles frequent the street in which you live. Your street helps me get from one point to the next. And by passing your house every morning, I have observed you do one thing for which you have become a profound role model: You spend time time with your daughter. In the freezing winter, this meant simply waiting with her in the bitter cold, as she awaited her school bus. In the spring it has meant playing catch with a baseball in front of your house, awaiting the bus. But you don't just spend time with her, playing catch when you know it will only be for a short time before her bus comes. Because I have also seen you outside on the weekend with her, with no place to go, tossing a ball back and forth with lacrosse sticks.
      At first I was unsure why exactly watching you had been so inspiring to me. And then I recalled my own youth, where my parents did the exact same thing: My pops played catch with me, coached my baseball teams, and hit my groundballs. And my momma was cheering me on in the bleachers. And perhaps without even consciously realizing it at the time, the love that they were showing me seeped into my bones, enabling me to feel secure, confident, happy, and beloved. 
     One of the three things the Torah contractually requires a man to provide for his wife is "onah." There are different understandings as to what exactly this word means, but I have heard quoted in the name if a tremendously brilliant and righteous rabbi, that in its most simple form, "onah" means time. In modern hebrew, "onah" means "season." Thus, according to this most literal understanding of the verse describing a man's legal obligations to his wife is that he must give her time. Perhaps this means that they have dinner together. And during dinner, the TV is off, the cell phone is charging in the other room, and the newspapers (if the couple is archaic and still gets newspapers) are put away. It is just one-on-one time-- an opportunity for the couple to connect and to convey the feeling of how they thoroughly enjoy being in the presence of their beloved. 
      This idea is a secret for success in any relationship today in which we find ourselves: with a friend, a spouse, or a child. We need to give one another time. Sometimes it is hard, in a world with so many distractions: we could be checking our email on our iphones, or speaking to Siri, or avoid spending time  with someone by emailing or texting them. Yet it is obvious that the most cherished, scarce, fleeting gift we have is time. What possible better way to show you love someone, than by investing your precious time in them. 
     For this profound lesson, Dude who Lives on Manning, I thank you.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

To the Shutdown US Government: I Thank You!




Dear Henry,
      Inasmuch as the American Government is currently shutdown, I decided now would be an appropriate time to write a new blogg entry. My thought process went as follows: I have thousands of viewers across the vast planet. Hundreds of them are undoubtedly government officials, park rangers, and museum employees. Therefore, they need something to do these next few days-- so  figured I would do the United States a service, and provide everyone effected from the shutdown with compelling, beautiful, thought-provoking, and downright brilliant reading material. So to all my readers from America to China-- you're very welcome.
     Tonight I wanted to write about one Friday morning in the month of April. For many, April 19th 2013 was a day like any other. But for the city of Boston, April 19 2013 is a day that will not soon be forgotten. Boston was locked down, and the police and SWAT teams were patrolling the streets, performing a manhunt for the cruel, sadistic Boston Marathon Bomber.  As I sat, staring at cnn.com, watching this, I realized that every single one of these brave, heroic boston Police officers was risking their lives so that Boston-- and all of America-- could be safe. I realized, almost in an epiphany, that every day, police officers and firefighters risk their lives, so that we can be safe and live in comfort and security. 
     Then I thought to myself, its quite likely that these heroes are greatly undervalued and under appreciated. How often do we thank them? How often do we look at them with disdain, casting them off, along with their stupid speed traps? How many times do we laugh uncontrollably when we see their cruisers parked outside Dunkin Donuts? 
     I realized that every day we need to value and thank these heros-- But with the Bostonian police officers on the streets of Boston actively risking their lives-- today was the day to express my gratitude. I decided to bring these heros some goodies to express my thanks. I drove to Trader Joes, and I purchased a few of the containers of their deliciously delicious chocolate peanut-butter cups. From TJs I headed down to the station. When I walked in, a lady was chatting with the police man, who signaled for me to come in. I put down the bag of goodies and said, "with everything going on in Boston, I felt responsible to come in and express to you the incredible amount of gratitude I have towards you guys, for protecting us. Sometimes you might feel unnoticed and unappreciated. But we notice you, and appreciate it very much. Thank you, and G-d bless you." The policeman dumb-foundedly looked at me, and asked what organization these were from. Surprised by the question, I simply responded, no organization-- they were just from me-- a simple American. 
    Judaism teaches that gratitude is a fundamental value incumbent upon us at all times. The Torah teaches that the first thing I am required to do every morning, even before jumping out of bed-- is to thank the Almighty for allowing me to wake up, and remain alive. Undoubtedly, hundreds of people every night throughout the world do not wake up. How fortunate are we every day that G-d returns us our souls. 
    It is hard to fathom anything more frustrating than working very hard at something, expending enormous effort on behalf of someone, and going unnoticed, and unthanked. One of the harshest descriptions one can use to describe a job, is to describe it as "thankless." A person can go through a day, accomplish incredible things, and go completely unvalued. Most of us though who go un-thanked (fortunately I am not included in this category of human beings) don't receive acknowledgement for trivial things like making the coffee, or helping a coworker. Police, however, go un-thanked as they risk their own lives for our safety and well-being. And the truth us, most human beings have a basic need to be acknowledged. Fascinatingly, the word in hebrew for gratitude, "Hoda'ah" is the same as the word in hebrew for acknowledgement.  To thank someone is to acknowledge them as a human being. To ignore them, is to dehumanize them. There are stories told of how victims of the Nazi Holocaust demanded that their murderers look them in the eye before killing them--forcing them, at the very least, to acknowledge that they were butchering not rodents, but human beings.
    Despite having no malicious intent, many of us hurriedly run through our busy lives, failing to thank those who help us. It is our duty as decent human beings, to start thanking anyone and everyone. Thank the nice person who cleaned your table before you sit down to eat. Thank the lady for being your cashier after buying a bagel. Thank your parents for their constant love. Thank your spouse for being your spouse. Thank your garbage man and your mail man. Thank your child's teachers. Thank the shutdown American government for giving you freedom-- for us Jews, a religious freedom unprecedented in the history of our long and brutal exile.
 And most importantly, thank the Almighty for all the wonderful gifts He has given you. 

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Native Americans and Twitter and Rockies, Oh My.






Dear Henry,
      One thing that I am darn proud about, is being from Colorado. Colorado is hands down the best state in this beautiful country of ours. Growing up, I would ski to school, tip over cows on Saturday nights, and during the cow-tippin offseason, I would spend my Saturday nights hanging out at Super Walmart. Life was chilled out and simple. When one needs to shift lanes, the person behind him allows the other car to go ahead, in front of him. People do not cut one another off. People are very polite. When the speed limit is 55 MPH people go 45-50 MPH.  On one occasion, when we were visiting Denver after spending a magical year living in the Holiest city on the planet- Jerusalem aka the City of Gold aka the Holy City-- My wife and I and two children were walking in the King Soopers (the local grocery store), taking up the entire aisle, making the aisle as impassible as a fallen tree makes a creaky bridge in a wooded mountainy meadow in Finland.  Suddenly, we heard a very polite request, "Excuse me...I am so sorry, but would you mind if I could please get through? So sorry to inconvenience you!!" The good folks out west are VERY friendly.
      To top it off, we had the Broncos and Avalanche to root for growing up, both winning two championships during my youth. The Nuggets made many playoff runs, only to routinely fall in the first round-- year after bloody year. The Rockies, however, have made a habit of finishing rock bottom basically every year.  I put up with it though, during my 18 years living in Denver, because we have season tickets, and I would routinely go with my father. I was an extraordinarily cute little boy--not much has changed--  and I would often leave games with balls the players tossed up to me.  Those games are undoubtedly among the highlights of my youth. One specific ritual we had, was that my father would pull us from school to take us to Opening Day. I will never forget the time he totally surprised us, and took me in 1995 to the first ever game at Coors Field, against the New York Mets (remember them-- they will come in to play later).
       The game went quite long. The 6th inning became the 7th inning. We did the 7th inning stretch. The 7th inning became the 8th inning. the 8th inning became the 9th inning. The 9th inning became the 10th inning. People were sissies, so they started leaving. I moved down to the first row behind the Mets dugout. Bret Butler tosses us up a ball. The 10th inning became the 11th inning. The 11th inning became the 12th inning. You get the idea, but I'ma keep going, because this is my blogg, and I can. The 12th inning became the 13th inning. The 13th inning became the 14th inning. We did the 7th inning stretch, which I thought was strange, inasmuch as it was the 14th inning, and not the 7th inning.
      Then, Dante Bichette steps up to the plate. I swore to myself when I got older, I would grow a mullet like him. In fact, one of my favorite websites of my childhood was ratemymullet.com. At the time, I didn't realize how hard it is to grow a mullet when you are rapidly balding faster than Husein Bolt runs the 100 meter race.  In the bottom of the 14th, Dante took one mighty swing of the bat, hit the ball with a thunderous roar, raised his fat arm to make a fiery fist pump, and he trotted around the bases in glory, as he hit a walk off shot to end the game. (http://wapc.mlb.com/col/play/?content_id=7667603&topic_id=33627488&c_id=col&tcid=vpp_copy_7667603&v=3)
I still get the chills watching that.
     But Henry, 1995 was a very long time ago. Since then, they have stunk it up worse than a shvitzy four year old coming inside after playing in the humid sun all day, and worse than a 2 year old girl potty training, and accidentally missing the potty when she tried to relieve herself. They had a fluke season in 2007 where they got swept out of the World Series in 2007 by the Smelly Sox from Boston. They have made the playoffs three lousy times in their pathetic 20 years of existence.
   And now, lets fast forward, from their opening game in Shea Stadium, in 1993, to August 8th, 2013. On  August 8th, I quit being a Rockies fan. They just ended their season by finishing their road-trip with a 1-9 record. But whats worse, oh Henry, is how they lost, and to whom they lost. The trip started against the Braves with 9-8, 11-3, 9-0, 11-2 losses to the Braves. And it ended by being swept by the Mets- arguably the only team in the MLB who has been more pathetic than the Rockies in the last 20 years. That loss in August 8th to the Mets, completing the sweep-- was it for me. I was checking out.
   But, this was mainly just a big, fat, unnecessary, digression. Let me get to the point.
   Let me first introduce my main point by just informing my thousands of readers, from Canada to Mexico, to Israel, France, Russia, and now, most recently, Australia of a new up and coming website about which you might not have heard, but which will play a critical role in my overly-over-drawnout story. I am extraordinarily tech-savvy, so you might not be aware of this, dear readers, but there is a new website called www.twitter.com that is a new type of facebook. Famous rabbis, like  myself have accounts, with myriads of followers. We can tweet (ie. write) very short messages including 120 characters to our devoted followers. This is the newest trend nowadays, so naturally, I have a blossoming account. Check me out at @dannywolfe1. When I resigned from being a Rockies fan, I became a Cleveland Indians fan. The logic was as follows. My Better half is from Cleveland. The Indians are from Cleveland. Therefore, I should love the Cleveland Indians. And I do. So I thought that my hundreds of Twitter followers would want to know about my not-so-sudden change of allegiance. So I sent a Tweet,  (ie. a message) that in addition to going to my hundreds of followers, also went to the Rockies, and the Indians. It said as follows:


swept to the ? You mean nothing to me. We are done. Its been a depressing 20 years. Bye. I am now an fan.



The Cleveland Indians liked these chain of events, so they wrote back to me as follows:




       The Indians thus officially welcomed me to being a fan of the Tribe. And this point is exactly what I wanted to discuss with you on this chilly 65 degree evening in Ohio. Someone, who works for the Cleveland Indians marketing department, wrote me a tweet, giving me a warm welcome. They said something kind to me. And, Henry, it made me feel good. Someone said something nice to me, and it felt great. And this is a profound lesson that you, Henry, and my thousands upon thousands upon thousands of readers should take to heart. People like when you say kind things to them. People like when you compliment them. It can completely change someone's day--heck, it might even completely change someone's life.
     Think for a moment, the last time you were told a compliment. What was it? How did it feel? Sometimes we (especially those of us of the male persuasion) feel like its unnecessary to compliment because something is so obvious. For example suppose our spouse is wearing a pretty outfit, we feel like we don't need to compliment, because obviously she looks beautiful. But how many times does this spouse then change her outfit, and then when we look at her in astonishment, she explains she changed because she knows we didn't like it?  How often do we feel under appreciated, or stressed out, and one little compliment is all it would take to turn around our entire mood?
     The Torah teaches us that we need to have an "ayin tova-" a good eye. This doesn't mean to make sure not to swing at balls when you are batting at home plate.  It means that you have to train yourself to see the good in everyone around you. It will change your life. You wont be focussing on the negativity any more, and you will only see the good. For homework, dear henry, please compliment one person every single day.  As much as this will impact and empower those around you-- it will reshape how you yourself view the world.

  @Indians-- it feels darn good to be part of the Tribe. Thank you.

  Your biggest fan,
  Danny Wolfe

 



Monday, March 25, 2013

Mi K'Amcha Yisroel-- Who is Like You Oh Israel- Reflection on a KidneyTransplant









Dear Henry,
       I know that usually, when I write to you, I have a tendency to use a light, almost humorous tone. Let me warn you, dear Henry, that today will be a bit more of a serious tone. I wanted to write to you about an experience, as I escorted my friend to the hospital as he donated his kidney to a person he had never before met. My experience undoubtedly was one of the most profound experiences of my entire life.
      The profoundness of the day actually began as soon as we walked into the hospital. As I sat with my buddy in the waiting room, I looked around at everyone around me, wondering why was each one of them there. Some were undoubtedly awaiting the results of very risky surgeries. As I looked around and saw the agony and suffering in their faces, I began to get an inkling of how much we take our lives for granted. Some of us complain because we have a lot of stress in our lives. Some of us looking for jobs; others stressed out about term papers or tests. Spending time in a hospital waiting room is all that one needs to do to realize the triviality of it all. Spending time in a hospital is all it takes for one to wake up, and actually appreciate all of the gifts that one really does have.
    The most powerful moments of my life has been the first moment I met each one of my children. Standing in a hospital room, with my wife, and a nurse, three of us in total, and then, all of the sudden, when there is that cry from my baby, and now suddenly, there are four of us in the room-- that moment is beyond words, and is to me, a clear proof of G-ds incredible existence. However, right up there, as one of the most meaningful moments of my life, was when I had the privilege to watch my friend meet the recipient and his lovely wife and children, for the first time, shortly before the surgery. My friends incredible heart-felt love for this man was palpable-- as was his, and his family's-- love for my friend. Everyone around had tears streaming down their faces as we realized in this world of pain and suffering, what man is capable of. We realized, as one family member observed, that G-d has angels that He uses to carry out His plan, and my friend, is one such angel. I later tried to describe this interaction to someone else, but could not get the words out, as I became too emotional.
    I was further impacted on this day, after my buddy and I went to a different type of waiting room, called the "bikur cholim." Shortly after arriving at the hospital, they told us we could go wait in the bikur cholim. The Bikur cholim is a lounge which is stocked daily from donations of various Orthodox Jewish communities around the NYC area. It is food that the community donates for the sake of the sick patients, and the family members. In addition, there is a synagogue, with daily minyanim (prayer quorums of 10 men) which is made up of patients, family members, and Torah-observant doctors. It was here that I stayed throughout the duration of the 5 hour surgery, praying for my friend's successful surgery. Seeing this Bikur Cholim, and seeing the volunteers constantly returning to restock the fridge and the supplies reminded me of how special our People is-- a nation unlike any other.
    As I sat there, awaiting the results of the surgery, I thought to myself how appropriate it is that this happened right now, a week before Passover. During the Passover seder we say, "B'Chol Dor vador chayav adam liros es atzmo k'ilu hu yatzah m'mitzrayim." "In every generation a person is required to view himself as if he himself left Egypt." Therefore- on the seder night, each one of us has a mitzvah to experience a transformation whereby we leave from a state of bondage to a state of freedom. Our great Rabbis teach us that this is very difficult to achieve-- to relive the exodus. We are currently living in the comfort of the 21st Century, with tremendous freedom. How are we supposed to relive the exodus? I thought to myself, that each one of us has our own personal Egypt- we all have our personal struggles and challenges and our job is to overcome them. Then I thought, that for this recipient- this amazing man-- what would he be thinking on Pesach? Perhaps it would be easier for him to relate to this mitzvah-- he is leaving the misery and pain of life on constant dialysis- tremendous suffering and repeated hospital visits. This Pesach- he can G-d willing experience, a true form of physical freedom- a true personal redemption.
     Yet another profoundly impactful  moment was watching the doctor relay to the family the good news that the operation was successful. That sight is a sight I never want to forget- seeing the pure joyful exuberance and delight, and the demeanor of all of the family members. Such pure, unadulterated joy and delight. And I thought about it, and I asked myself, what are they rejoicing over? They are rejoicing over the fact that G-d-willing their holy father and husband will be granted a longer life, and a life with no more pain and physical anguish. Then I asked myself- do we ever take pleasure, joy and delight in the mere fact that we are alive? Do we take pleasure in the fact that we are not constantly experiencing physical pain and anguish? Do we ever actively celebrate the fact that our kidneys function properly, and we are able to relieve ourselves unassisted? In Judaism we have a blessing called Asher Yatzar, which thanks G-d for the ability to go to the bathroom. How often do we say this blessing? For those of us who do, do we feel the exuberance that should naturally come with it?
    On a similar note, another impactful moment was the first question my friend asked me in the recovery room, when he was drugged, and in pain-- "Did the transplant work? Is the other man okay?" His only concern was not with himself, but with the person to whom he gave his kidney.
    I had the zechus (merit) to assist my buddy in the hospital the night after the operation. I slept pretty well on a reclining chair, and the next day my friend told me what a miserable night of sleep he had. He told me that because of the incision, he was physically unable to sit up, when he couldn't sleep-- so he was stuck, laying on his back, waiting for the long night to end. The next morning he told me, that he never in his life was so appreciative for the ability to physically sit up. He told me how terrifying it was to be confined to his back, how helpless it was to not be able to move. And I realized, that as a rabbi, I often teach people how to appreciate everything we have. But even I never considered the enormous blessing we have with the ability to sit up in bed. What would a paraplegic give for the opportunity to sit up? Have I ever stopped to appreciate the awesomeness that comes with being able to move my limbs and my body? How fortunate are we for this incredible gift?
    As the man who runs this organization that facilitated the transplant left home at about 8 PM, (after having facilitated two transplants that day) I though about the conversation he would have with his wife that evening. "Hi honey, what did you do at work today? "Not too much- just saved two lives today." We should all do work that we can take pride in, and that gives us joy and satisfaction.
     Yet another impactful moment, actually occurred several times, as new nurses and doctors entered the room. They asked my friend, how do you know the person to whom you donated your kidney? My friend told them, he did not know him-- he was merely a fellow Jew. Seeing their faces of surprise and incredible admiration was very touching. For as Jews, we are one family, and when one of us suffers, we all suffer. When a family member needs something, wouldn't we run and do anything we can to help them?
    The Holy Temple was destroyed beause of baseless hatred. We should all follow my friend's lead-- and baselessly love each other, and this Passover we should all find ourselves back in our Holy Land, celebrating Moshiach's arrival, may it be speedily and soon.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe