We can all Win the Powerball

Dear Peyton,

      I admittedly purchased a Powerball ticket two days ago after filling up my gas tank with some pure, cheap, Rocky Mountain gasoline. As I looked to my left at the gas station I noticed they were advertising selling Powerball tickets. At the time the winner was promised one billion dollars. I thought to myself, while it is true and undeniable that my odds in winning are about one in three hundred million, what the heck, if the Almighty wants me to win, I sure as heck will.

     And then, naturally I started contemplating what I would do with a cool billion in my pocket. Would I quit my job and travel the world? Would we move to Israel on the spot? Would I donate all my money to saving the whales? But then I thought more about it and I realized that I wouldn't do anything drastic. I love my job, so I wouldn't be going anywhere, and my family and I are very happy people so we wouldn't be making any abrupt changes. I would keep it simple, pay off my mortgage, and college loans, buy a second car and install a garage into my house. I probably would also buy a home in Israel that we'd visit for the holidays each year, and that would basically be it. 

      After fantasizing about these luxuries for a few minutes I reflected on an incredible lecture I have heard several times by a friend and mentor named Rabbi M. Rabbi M speaks at great length about the topic of happiness and how fortunate we are living in this world. For example if G-d forbid I was blind, but had the opportunity to pay for an expensive surgery to restore my sight, what dollar amount would that be worth for me?  Would I pay a million? Ten million? More?

Or if someone offered me fifty million dollars for the opportunity to remove my eyes would I take it? After all, I could then afford to go travel and explore the world. But is it worth being able to forfeit my eyes for the sake of traveling the world if I cannot see the landscape that I am exploring? Or if someone offered me millions of dollars for my two legs, would I sell them? Would it be worth it?
Or how about someone in need of my two kidneys? Would I give them both up, for a few million dollars if it meant I would have to live my life going through dialysis, being unable to process waste on my own? Or what if G-d forbid a person was suffering through a life threatening illness, and only a 75 million dollar surgery could save his life? If he wasn't blessed with having the 75 million dollars, how far would a person go to come up with those funds? And if he was blessed with those 75 million dollars, would he decide it wasn't worth giving up the 75 million to save his life?
      The Torah teaches, "Who is rich? The one who is happy with his lot." It thus emerges, dear Peyton, that with only a little thought exercise, we can come to an appreciation for how unbelievably rich and blessed each and everyone of us are. The mere fact that we are alive is worth hundreds of millions to us, how much more so if G-d has blessed us with sight, hearing, use of our limbs, a body that processes waste, the ability to walk, a loving family or community? If G-d blesses me with a billion and a half dollars, there is no doubt, I will be one happy man. However let's not kid ourselves; I don't need to win this silly lottery to be able to bask in the immense wealth with which G-d has blessed me.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

Don't be Caught with your Wheels over the Line: A Gripping Tale of how Justice was Served on Speer Boulevard

Dear Peyton,            
       One gorgeous autumn afternoon in the most glorious city this side of Jerusalem, two and a half weeks ago, my Better Half, adorably delicious baby, and myself embarked on the return trip home after a lovely weekend in Vail, Colorado. We had the privilege of attending The Jewish Experience Shabbos Project retreat in Vail, and we were all incredibly inspired. My parents were kind enough to watch my other three children for 48 hours, and on this particular Sunday afternoon we were excited to be reunited with our children. As I got off the highway, about twenty minutes away from home, I called my Pops to tell him that we would be arriving shortly. During this short phone conversation, which is legal to have while driving in Colorado, I noticed a yellow light. Being the cautious, vigilant, excellent driver I am, I decided that I was going to go ahead and stop at the Yellow light, so as not to run the light. To my shock, and profound displeasure, I noticed the traffic light snapped my picture. I was not upset because I was concerned I was having a bad hair day; balding people in their thirties like myself don't have bad hair days. I was not even concerned that I wasn't looking good, exceedingly handsome individuals like myself always look good. I was upset because I was suspicious that this camera would send the picture to the Police, who would mistakenly think I ran the red light, which I most certainly DID NOT do. I turned to my wife to tell her to remind me that I did not in fact run the light, but she was sleeping more soundly then a African Zebra after a long day galloping in the meadowy Zimbabwean Safari. I thought to myself, shucks, if the Better Half is sleeping, I am going to have to remember this myself. "Note to self; you will probably get a letter in a week from the Denver PD accusing you falsely of running the light. Remember Dann-o, when you get that letter fight it, because right now you are are waiting for the light to turn green, just like all the other cars are waiting. After the light turned green, I promptly forgot about the whole episode as I got lost in my thoughts trying to figure out what I would be doing for the remainder of this afternoon given the fact that the Broncos had a Bye week.

Ten Days Later
As I casually strolled into my house for a lunch break on yet another fantastically beautiful Denver fall day, I couldn't help but smile as I was greeted by my adoring Better Half and my three youngest children. The salad The Better Half so lovingly prepared was waiting for me on the table. And that's precisely when I noticed it. I noticed a particular shiny white envelop sticking out in the mail box. I dramatically tiptoed over to see what it was. It looked serious, so I opened it. And to my dismay, the letter was a casual reminder about that fateful day ten days earlier. I looked inside and was shocked to see they wanted me to pay a forty dollar ticket! "That's absurd, thought I, I DIDN'T run the light!" And then I read that the ticket was not for running the light, it was for having my front wheels over the white line at a stop light/cross walk. And then I looked, and sure enough they got my photograph, showing, beyond reasonable doubt that I was guilty as charged, my two front tires were over the white line. I thought I would call anyways to plead my case; after all, I did NOT run the light! I called. And there was a recorded message which said, "Before we transfer you to anyone, please be aware that if your wheels crossed the white line, that is a violation of Colorado driving code of conduct and you will be ticketed for that heinous offense. Good day." I realized I didn't stand a chance. Pleading ignorance wouldn't help, for it was my responsibility to know the law. I dejectedly, ashamedly, hung up the phone, resigned to my bitter fate.

         The Talmud in Tractate Avos, or Ethics of Our Fathers relates the following, profoundly powerful teaching: "Know what is above you: an Eye that sees, an Ear that hears, and all of our actions are recorded in a book." The simple understanding of this passage is that as Jews we are ultimately held accountable for our actions. We are not free to act in any way we please; at the end of the day we have to take responsibility for our behaviors, and we need to remember that G-d is vividly aware of our every action. After a person takes leave of this world, we are taught, a person reviews a recording of his life, and he signs off that everything he saw is in fact true, exactly as it happened. The evidence is presented in a very clear manner.
      Seeing my car's two front wheels over the line demonstrated this concept in a powerful manner. We must never forget, that everything we do in this world has enormous significance; every action brings with it eternal ramifications. We cannot be caught with our wheels over the line. There's simply too much at stake.

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

Slow Down Cowboy

Dear Henry,

       A funny thing happened on the way to the mountains. There I was, in the early hours of a gorgeous Rocky Mountain Wednesday morning. I was leading a group of eight incredible college students from New York on a spring break trip to Colorado, and on this particular morning on this particular day  we were driving to the mountains for a two day ski trip.  Everything was going as planned until about twenty minutes into our journey. As I was cruising at 65 MPH in the left lane, soaring like a speedy Zebra coasting across a Zimbabwe Safari, I suddenly noticed a sea of red break lights ahead. A few minutes later I noticed everyone was switching lanes, getting out of that left lane, because there was an accident there. "Oh great," thought I. Now I'm going to need to do a fancy maneuver they taught me in driving school fourteen years ago to be able to switch into the center lane with this massive van I am driving. I immediately signaled to switch lanes, and then something more unexpected than the series finale to The OC happened: the guy let me in. The dude let me switch lanes, and he didn't even creep up and pretend he wasn't going to let me in like they do in New York. He just stopped his vehicle and waved me in. 

       My mouth literally dropped. I couldn't believe it . Here was a driver driving to work in rush hour traffic; presumably he had somewhere important to be. And yet, some how, some way, he wholeheartedly let me go in front of him, with no hesitation whatsoever. I truly couldn't believe it. I woke up the unsuspecting sleeping passenger next to me to alert her what was going on. 

     This experience, and driving through Colorado, a state in which drivers egregiously go under the speed limit in the left lane, taught me the very important life lesson to SLOW DOWN, and I believe it is critical to do so for three reasons. Firstly, we need to slow down to constantly evaluate and confirm that we are going down the appropriate path. Many of us are programmed from kindergarten that we need to go to school to learn how to be a lawyer or doctor, or accountant,  and then do this profession to make money, and then to make money to be able to retire and go on vacation. But do we necessarily know to pause, and ask ourselves a) if we are happy in the profession we are pursuing and b) what's the point of it all? Do we ever pause and try to figure out how to be in a loving relationship or how to be a good parent? In life, we need to slow down, to pause, and reflect. In Judaism we have an opportunity to do so once a week every week: we have Shabbos, a sabbath in which we put everything away to reflect on what is truly important, and to take stock of our lives.

      The other reason a person should slow down is that when he goes to fast, many times he loses his rationality and ability to make wise decisions. For example, when a driver on the East Coast decides he's not letting someone in front of him in, and he wrecklessly tails the car in front of him, he is endangering himself and everyone else on the road. When a businessman in Manhattan is walking 20 MPH to get to his meeting on time, body checking the unsuspecting photo-snapping tourist in the mean time, he is not thinking so rationally. The Talmud teaches that a person should be "slow to judgement." If I am adjudicating a case I shouldn't come up with any rash verdicts; I am enjoined to methodically understand each side, and take my time before issuing a ruling. Life is complex, we need to slow down and use our brains. Today, in this high strung world, where technology allows us to find out everything we want in an instant, this wisdom is more applicable than ever. I remember one time I was sent a rather annoying email, and from my fake I-phone I was preparing an instant response. Luckily I took a deep breath, and slept on it, and in the end did not send the email that I would have surely regretted having sent.
      Finally, we all need to take a deep breath, and slow down, so that we can enjoy, and bask in the beautiful world that G-d has given us. I remember one time walking to work in the streets of Manhattan, and I looked up above the storefronts to see all of these incredible skyscrapers--wondrously crafted, stunning buildings. I said to myself, Dan-o, that's crazy. You have been walking past these same buildings every single day, and yet you never once noticed that there was something beyond the restaurants and storefronts on the street level. Once I slowed down and looked up, I realized there was a whole new world beyond what I ever stopped to recognize. Last Friday night, as the rabbi was saying Kiddush, I couldn't get over the gorgeous deep blue sky in the background. I recall thinking I never recall having seen such a shade of blue before. In life, many times we are too busy and running around like chickens with our heads cut off; totally oblivious to the wondrous world in which we live. What good is the beauty if it goes unnoticed, unappreciated?
      Granted, somethings in life you might want to just "speed through," to get it over with, like a routine visit to the dentist office, or the New York Jets season. But life is not one of those things.  It is too short to run through with our head down as quickly as we can. Life is beautiful, so, as we say out West, "Slow down, Cowboy!"

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

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

Native Americans and Twitter and Rockies, Oh My.

Tweet
Follow @dannywolfe1

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:

Danny Wolfe ‏@DannyWolfe18 Aug

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

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

Cleveland Indians ‏@Indians8 Aug

@DannyWolfe1 @Rockies @Mets welcome to #TribeTown!

 Retweeted by Danny Wolfe

       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

 

Tweet
Follow @dannywolfe1

Olympic Figure Skating, Ms. Pacman, and the Shofar

Dear Henry,
      I wanted to share with you a little known fact about me, that you might not even be aware of. That fact, is that when I was four years old, I embarked upon a long path of competitive figure skating. Momma and Dad would take me to the rink, 6 days a week, every morning at 6:00 AM before school, and I would practice my routines. I would do triple and quadruple axles, double toe-loups, I had even mastered the biellmann position, and even the twizzle (my nizzle). I worked very hard from age four until sixteen, when I had qualified for the US National olympic team. It was very exciting, I was set to perform in Salt Lake City, only a few hundred miles from my home city, Denver Colorado. All my loved ones were gathered to watch me perform. It was also electrifyingly exciting, because I was the heavy favorite for the gold metal.
        I could not contain my excitement as my family gathered in the arena right before I was meant to perform. I was going to be performing to my favorite singer-- Celine Dion's heart-warming version of my favorite love song of all time, "Beauty and the Beast." At that point in life, I had not even stopped to contemplate the disturbing meaning of that song. As I sat waiting in the changing room for my big moment for which I dedicate the last 12 years of my life, I noticed, that right off the locker room, was a game room. I realized I still had about fifteen minutes till showtime-- so I went to take a look. To my utter delight, they had my favorite arcade game on the planet-- Ms. Pacman-- and it did not cost a thing. I went over, and started playing. One thing lead to another, I beat level after level, I was zoned in, until I finally heard on the loud Speakers, "DANNY WOLFE, you are up! WHERE ARE YOU?" I looked at my watch, and to my complete horror, realized I was supposed to be on the ice seven minutes ago. To my tremendous agony, I had been disqualified.
        Henry, obviously, this story is not true. If I were an olympian for any sport it would clearly be for weight-lifting. However, I think the message of this story is very powerful, and timely. Yesterday morning was Rosh Chodesh Elul, the first day of the month of Elul. You see, Rosh Chodesh Elul means that Rosh Hashana is just one month away, and every morning in synagogue from Rosh Chodesh Elul until Rosh Hashana (with the exception of Shabbos) the shofar is blown. Yesterday, as I heard the sound of the shofar, I got the chills, and I started to literally shake. After not hearing that holy, powerful sound in a full year, it really woke me up. It was very powerful. In one month, we are all coming to be judged by the Judge of all Judges. It is said that in Pre-War Europe this time was incredibly intense. People really began working on improving their relationship with the Almighty, and their relationships with each other. They began intensely trying to perfect their character traits. If someone struggled with anger, they worked very hard to obliterate anger from themselves. If people were haughty, they worked on becoming more humble.
     To not fault of our own, we live in a completely different world. From a very young age we are told that we must go to school. After school we are told we have to go to more school. After more school we are told we must go to graduate school. After Grad school, we get jobs. After working a few years, we get married. Then when we hit our 40s we realize that we hate our job, we do not know our spouse, and we have no idea how we got here, or what the heck we are doing with our lives. This is called a midlife crisis. This is called sleepwalking through life.
      The Rambam writes that the shofar awakens us from our slumber.
      Every morning in the month of Elul, and on Rosh Hashana, we are awoken from our slumber by the powerful, awesome blast of the shofar. It is up to us if we are going to hit the snooze button, or actually wake up and get out of bed. If only in my olympic story, someone would have given me a reminder before my performance! Then I could have gotten ready. Right now, with the shofar we are getting that reminder. Right now we should be thinking about what we can change to become better people. Maybe my relationship with my parents can use some mending, and I should call them more. Maybe I should not have said that nasty remark to my sibling, or my ex-best friend and it is time to apologize. Maybe its time to think about something I can do to get closer to G-d, whether its study Torah with a rabbi, start to pray routinely, light Shabbos candles, or take on more Shabbos observances.
      I challenge you, Oh Henry, and my thousands upon thousands of readers in countries like America, Mexico, Canada, Russia, Spain, Germany, and Israel, to write down two things, right now, that starting tonight, you will start working on to become that incredible person that the Almighty knows you are destined to become.
     One month from now is the most important time of the year. It is our turn at the olympics. We have been building up the whole year, for this powerful moment.
     Are we going to show up, or play Ms. Pacman?

    Forever Yours,
    Danny Wolfe

Starry Nights in Jerusalem and Bunny Bunny

Dear Henry,

      When I lived in Connecticut for a year, I learned a lot of crucially important life lessons. But by far, the most critical thing I learned there was a game called "Bunny Bunny." I am not referring to The Bunny Game , which is a 2010 American independent horror film directed by Adam Rehmeier who also was co-author of the script together with the lead actress Rodleen Getsic. That is not what I am talking about. To be frank with you, Henry-- I haven't seen this film-- or any film for that matter-- since Snoop Lion's Oscar-worthy hit "Soul Plane" in 2004, or "Dude Where's my Car" in 2000.  

       So that is not the Bunny Bunny that I am talking about. Sorry Adam Rehmeier--its nothing personal. The Bunny Bunny to which I refer is an absolutely ridiculously ridiculous, absurdly absurd game that can be played in small groups. The game is about bunnies, and tongas, and hayugens, and upshifting to level 2, and yogaflames, and tiger uppercuts, and sonic booms.  Truthfully I have taken this game with me throughout my travels- in good times and in hard times. I played Bunny Bunny during two of the most special years if my life while learning Torah in the land of Israel. And I played Bunny Bunny in JFK Airport with my birthright group after being notified that our Aerosvit flight to Lithuania was delayed by 15 hours. 

       The game has a lot of depth to it-- depth that I discovered one Purim afternoon after having consumed a few too-many bottles of wine. But Henry, I ain't talking about the depth of Bunny Bunny in this blogg post. Rather, Henry, I plan to talk about something else in this blogg post.  

      First, though, I must give a little background. During those magical years in Israel, as I finished up my rabbinical school, I had the privilege of giving a weekly class (called a vaad) to a group of 8 studly guys who were in a gap year yeshiva program between high school and college. We happened to be the best looking vaad in the whole program, and there were about 130 guys in this program.  They came to me every week, at about 10:00 PM Israel time, or about 3:00 PM EST. I would give them delicious deserts that my wife baked, like challah french-toast casserole, blondies, brownies, krispy-peanut butter balls, etc... We would watch Tim Tebow highlights for about 10 minutes, and then I would dazzle them with my signature life-changing lectures on various Torah topics. One week however, I skipped the life-changing lecture, and instead, opted to teach them the life-changing game about which I now write: Bunny Bunny.
     With that little introduction, we can now begin. Seven days ago, Oh Henry, I happened upon the Facebook page of one of the strapping young lads that was in my vaad. On the page, he had posted a video that he took, of a group of his campers playing the very game that I had taught him, not three years before. And those campers were playing the game exactly how it is meant to be played-- as If I myself taught them, and as my mentor, himself taught me (the guy who taught me in Connecticut)! The campers seemed so familiar to me-- but I did not recognize them. They seemed like my own children-- yet I did not know them. And yet, they were playing Bunny Bunny as if they heard the instructions directly from my mouth! And then, I received clarity on two very significant points.
       The first point on which I received clarity was on a very crucial verse in the Torah, that incidentally is the basis for the entire Passover Seder. The verse says , "v'higadata l'vincha," "You shall tell your son in that day, (Passover) saying, this (eating matzah) is done because of that which the Lord did to me when I came forth out of Egypt." Judaism is obsessed with the "Mesorah," or the transmission of the Torah from one generation to the next. About 3300 years ago, the entire Jewish nation stood at the foot of Mt. Sinai, heard G-d speak, and received the Torah. If the average age that people have children is about 30, that means that there have been about 100 'passes,' or 'links in the chain' directly from parent to child, from the Revelation at Mt. Sinai until today. Many of us, however, are fortunate enough to have met our grandparents, and many of us even have them at our Passover seders- this means that there are in actuality only 50 'passes' from grandparent to grandchild, from Mt Sinai until the present. And for those of us, who have met our great grandparents, the number is even fewer. In short, Jews emphasize the crucial role of passing on, or transmitting our heritage,  which we received from our parents and teachers. The Torah of today is the same Torah of 3300 years ago, because of our obsession with accurately transmitting our Holy Torah and our national experience receiving the Torah at Mt. Sinai.  Watching the 'Bunny Bunny' product of my student teaching his campers Bunny Bunny, made me appreciate this concept even more.  One day, one of his campers will teach his/her campers Bunny Bunny, exactly as I taught him, on one starry night in Jerusalem. Then, one of his campers will teach his/her own campers Bunny Bunny, exactly as the strapping lad taught them, who in turn taught it exactly as I taught him one starry night in Jerusalem, who taught it EXACTLY as my mentor taught me, one sunny morning in Connecticut.
     The second point on which I received clarity, is a similar concept, namely, that we never fully comprehend the MASSIVE impact of our actions. I would have never thought that as a result of sharing this game with a strapping young lad, that many, many more younger lads and lasses would later be playing it, with every bit as much enthusiasm as the young lad, and myself. My little, seemingly insignificant decision to teach Bunny Bunny that historic evening, ended up having a massive impact on dozens of lives. And Henry, this applies to all of us, in every area of our lives. We might never know about the huge impact one little smile can make for another person. A great rabbi once said a person's face is a like a reshus harabim-- a public street. Just like one is not allowed to leave obstructively obstructive objects on his sidewalk, (or unshoveled snow/ice), as that can cause damage to the passersby, so too, one is not allowed to walk around with a pout on his face, because that pout affects, and harms the passersby as well. We might never comprehend how a few words of encouragement to a colleague having a rough day can be a game-changer in his/her life. I took notes from my esteemed colleague when he told a toll-both worker-- "Remember, life is worth living!" My whole worldview is changed as a result of a two-minute segment of a class given by a rabbi in Jerusalem to a group of seminary girls. This rabbi 'happened' to speak to the wives of the rabbinical students in my program, and my wife 'happened' to buy some of his MP3 lectures, and I 'happened' to listen to them one snowy morning in Albany on my way to synagogue. As a result of a few lines that this rabbi told seminary girls 5 years ago, the life of another rabbi in a different country has changed forever! And this Jerusalem rabbi has no idea about the impact he made in this particular case!
     The point here, is that it is incumbent upon all of us-- myself, and my thousands upon thousands of dedicated readers in this great country of ours, Canada, Russia, China, and Israel-- to as a starting point-- understand the enormous impact our actions can make upon the lives of those around us. I cannot necessarily go out every day thinking, "What can I do or say to change this person's life forever?" I can however, understand that I have a G-d given ability to positively impact this person's life in a significant way. Therefore it is all of our duties to engage the world with this fact in mind-- and to be beacons of light and pleasantness to everyone who comes our way.
    One special starry night in Jerusalem taught me that as a result of one small action, the whole world can be playing Bunny Bunny.

Yours truly,
Danny Wolfe

Wrapped up Challah and a Mezuza--Profound Life Lessons from a Holocaust Survivor

Dear Henry,
       As you may have, or perhaps, may have not noticed, I am trying to write to you once a week, usually on any given Sunday, (at least until football season starts, when I will be obsessing over the pending Denver Broncos Superbowl championship season for the ages.) As Shabbos rolled around, I was still unsure as to what to write about for this week. The only real excitement that happened was a) I went golfing and B) I learned there is a very popular song called "Gangnam Style," and I learned some of the sweet dance moves-- but not even yours truly was able to figure out the deep inner meaning of that song. And inasmuch as I like writing only about the deep inner meaning of life on this blogg, I wasn't about to write a whole blogg post about any gangnam style, or lack thereof. So, I was stuck going into Shabbos not even really sure about what I was going to write about for this week. That feeling of not knowing what I was going to write about was probably not quite as frustrating as being a Cleveland sports fan felt when Bron Bron took his talents to South Beach.
       Shabbos was beautiful-- but nothing all that exciting happened, and as of 8:30 PM last night, I didn't even have anything to write about. But then, during the rabbis shalosh seudos speech- everything changed. Before he began speaking, I heard an incredibly sweet Holocaust survivor mention that he and his wife really liked the challah that was being served, and he would try to get the recipe for her. (For a story about a different survivor, check out http://rabbidannywolfe.blogspot.com/2013/07/my-new-hero.html). Then the rabbi began speaking, and I was admittedly daydreaming. Rabbi-- if you are reading this blogg- and I'm sure you are reading this blogg inasmuch as thousands of people read this blogg, across the vast globe-- even in places like Canada, Spain, and Russia--please don't be offended. Don't be offended because the only Rabbi for whom I don't day dream while he speaks, is a guy named Rabbi Daniel Martin Wolfe- he speaks very nicely, so it's hard to day dream during his brilliant talks. Anyways, my day dream was abruptly ended when this adorable aforementioned Holocaust survivor raised his hand and told us that every night before he goes to sleep, he goes to kiss his mezuzah, and he feels as if he is giving G-d a kiss, so to speak. I thought this was incredibly touching and beautiful- here is a man who lives with the reality that the Almighty is in his home. A man who saw the most horrific sights imaginable during his lifetime, a man who saw humanity at its worse. This same man did not give up on G-d-- he embraced Him, he lives with Him.
       After the Rabbi was done speaking, and everyone had thanked The Lord for their food and bentsched, (aka recited Birkas HaMazon aka recited Grace after the meal) I noticed this same sweet man setting aside two challos, and wrapping them ever so lovingly for his adoring wife, who was anxiously awaiting to greet him back home. He was doing it discreetly, as if no one would see. But I saw, and I was extraordinarily moved. Here is a man, that has been married at least fifty years putting on a little demonstration- a clinic of sorts- illustrating to anyone who would watch, the secret to a loving and successful marriage. I often find myself in situations where I could grab some leftovers for my wife, that I know she would like. But I usually tell myself, "Danny, its too much of a shlep (inconvenience) to wrap it up, put it away, and bring it home for her. Maybe it would make more sense if I just eat an extra portion, and tell her I had her in mind." But this was not the approach of this man-- this man who has been happily married for several decades understood very well that it was darn well worth the inconvenience of shlepping around some extra challah, if it meant making his wife happy, if it meant showing his wife his love through the act of giving.
      And then I thought about the two different observations I made that evening of this man: A) He told us that he gives the mezuza a kiss every night before bed and B) he packed away some challah to bring home to his wife. I realized that these two items are not at all random occurrences- but they go together hand in hand. The Torah teaches us that it is our job to build a Mishkan- a dwelling place for the Almighty. We assume that this applies to us nowadays as well, as we can all build a 'mishkan me'at' -- in our homes-- so that the point of a Jewish marriage is to build a dwelling place for the Almighty. And its only fitting for G-d to dwell in a place of complete serenity and peace-- a loving environment where the love between husband and wife is palpable. An environment devoid of yelling and arguing and negativity. With this understanding, the way this sweet man behaved last night was entirely consistent. Him and his wife have an incredible relationship. He constantly thinks of new ways to make her happy, even 50+ years into their marriage on a late Saturday night. Therefore, G-d is resting in their glorious home.
   Once a week I will wrap up some challah and bring it home to my prettier, better half.
   Will you?

   My name is Danny Wolfe, and I approve this message.

   Sincerely,
   Danny Wolfe