Open Apology to Anyone Who Has Ever Texted Me

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Dear Henry, and for that matter, anyone who is ever sent me a text message,

      I have to apologize for being so very bad at responding to your texts in a timely fashion. You see, dear Henry, and thousands of readers out there, the other day I had to send out dozens of text messages to recruit for a program we were running. Doing this chore with the fancy shmancy IPhone 6 was no easy task, but there was a cool feature. Apparently, on the iPhone, when you type in a number that you texted before, it automatically pulls up the whole texting conversation, from the last time you sent a message. I quickly realized there were many people to whom I owed a response; some people 

last texted me several weeks ago, and I realized that over the last few weeks they were probably anxiously checking their phones just waiting for that long awaited text from me. I figured they were waiting with as much anticipation for my text as I am anticipating consuming my Better half's legendary shabbos desserts. I thought to myself, "Danny, your a pretty swell guy. Your a responsible dude. What's going on big guy? Why so many unanswered texts? Don't you know that is more rude than a very rude person? Do you not care about the other person's feelings? Do you think you are so special and such a big shot you simply don't have time for them? That's messed up dude."

         Then I thought about it for a few minutes and I said, "Hey Dan-o, don't be too hard on yourself. Let's think for a minute why you don't respond to these text messages right away. The reason appears to be that every day, you do what you love doing: sitting down, meeting with good folks. During your meetings, sometimes, you get texts. But, you think it is rude to respond to the text whilst speaking to other human beings, so you go ahead and wait to respond to the text message, so that you can give the person to whom your currently

speaking the full attention they deserve. That's a good thing dude, don't be too hard on yourself. Sure, you should block out fifteen minutes every night to respond to the days' texts so you don't get too far behind, but by responding to the person texting you right now, you are basically saying to the person with whom you are speaking, " sorry partner, but you simply are not so important. The mysterious person behind the buzz in my pocket is more worth my time than you are. Sorry for being so blunt."

      So, to all the thousands upon thousands of you reading this blogg who regularly wait in anticipation for my text messages, please forgive me, I sincerely will try to get better about this.  But not at the expense of the person speaking to me at the same time you decide to text me. 

Forever yours,

Danny Wolfe

Have you ever Looked at a Snowflake?

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Dear Hank,
      This morning as I was walking home from synagogue on a lengthy two mile trek, I decided I would utilize this time for some good old fashion Danny Time. A great rabbi mentor of mine often spoke about how we live in a world where we are scared to be left to ourselves, constantly flanked with our Beats by Dre or Monster DNA headphones as the case may be, scared of silence, preferring to go to clubs where they blast "house music"which to my untrained ears simply sounds like a drunk dude banging on some dirty pots and pans. As I was walking up the street, I literally stopped in my tracks, much like a little deer cub named Bambi would stop in her tracks at the sight of a red Ford pickup truck speeding quickly towards her on an empty highway somewhere in Montana,  as one single, elegant snow flake danced down from heaven, and landed on my trendy Macy's jacket I purchased five years ago in a mall in SoCon (Southern Connecticut). I looked, and literally stopped walking, despite it being freezing, and awkwardly admired the single snow flake that fell on my black coat. It looked like a hexagon from 11th grade geometry class on Barry Bonds' steroids, decorated to perfection with little flowers and branches on each prong of the hexagon. My mouth literally dropped open in sheer admiration at this single snowflake, basking in G-d's brilliance. At first I thought this snow flake was possibly an aberration or some sort of fluke, or thread stitched into my jacket, but as the snow kept magically descending, I literally stopped to admire it  in the middle of the street another five times, and each time, the snow flakes were as perfectly symmetrical as the time before.  I was immediately reminded of the Rambam's (Maimonides) timeless words when he wrote, "How does one come to love and be in awe of G-d? By contemplating His wondrous actions and creations, and discerns in them His brilliance which has no end, immediately he will love and praise...and desire tremendously to know His Great Name." By contemplating G-ds creations in nature,  in the form of this pristine, perfect snow flake, I felt like I had attained a closeness to Him that rivals the feeling of closeness and connection I felt to G-d on Yom Kippur, or while I was praying at the holy Western Wall.
      This transformative and powerful experience reminded me of a very powerful lesson. The truth is, being from the great Rocky Mountain State, and then moving to the East Coast, I have seen my fair share of snow. I probably have experienced hundreds of snowy days in my years. And yet, I don't think I ever once stopped to acknowledge its beauty and how wondrous of a creation that G-d had made. Usually I complain about how it complicates our lives, messes up the roads or makes my socks wet and smelly; but I never had noticed its sheer purity, beauty, and immense detail. Once I did notice it though, it totally transformed my perspective, my mood and my overall well being. And I ask myself, how many other things are there in the world that I simply have never bothered to notice?  How many other wondrous creations did the Almighty gift wrap for me to enjoy that I simply ignored? It is incumbent upon us all to look in the mirror honstly and ask one simple question: Have we ever looked at a snowflake?

Forever yours,
Danny Wolfe

Don't Sweat the Small Stuff; Savor it

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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

Superbowl or Baby?

Dear Henry,

      Usually I try to space out my posts at least a week, to keep my thousands upon thousands of dedicated fans readily awaiting my next post in suspense. I know my readers are constantly checking their twitter feeds, eagerly anticipating my next post, just as my 6th grade Nepalese Pen Pal awaited my letters in Matchu Piccu. However something happened this morning that absolutely blew my mind. The day began innocently enough. I drove my kiddies to school, and then pulled up to my bank to make a transaction. And as I pulled up, I noticed that on the ESPN Radio, Mike and Mike were talking about an interesting scenario regarding the Superbowl. You see, dear Henry, the Seahawks best player is a guy named Richard Sherman. Richard Sherman and his girlfriend happen to be expecting a child, that is due right around the same time as the Superbowl. What that means, dear Henry, is that Richard might have a little dilemma on his hands: Should he play in the Superbowl, or be present at his child's birth? Mike and Mike were discussing this very dilemma with former Denver Bronco Mark Schlereth. As I pulled up to the window, about ready to enter my pin number, my mouth literally dropped at what I heard:

Mike Greenberg: Would you have played?
Mark Schlereth:  I'da played. 
Mike Golic: What would have Lisa said? 
Mark Schlereth: Uh, Lisa? I was there for the other ones... I would play thats what I get paid to do. This is my job and this is biggest game of my life. I got 53 other guys who depend on me, and my wife understands that.... For me its a non decision I would certianly play, I'll spend the rest of my life with the kids. Heres the deal Mike, I know its hard decision..I don't know if its the right decision...

Mike Golic: "Well there is no right or wrong...I do think a high percentage of players would play..." I do believe I would have played, and would play in the Superbowl also, I'm 99.9 percent sure I would play. Herm (Edwards) said he would play, Justin Tuck said he would have played...Tim Brown would have played.... 

      After hearing this, I immediately did the mandatory ear wax check-- maybe I've suffered from a serious ear wax build up over the years and I did not hear correctly. But I soon realized that in fact my ears were cleaner than a new born infant after bath time. Henry, I got to tell you, I was stunned at what I heard. It is only two weeks after my wife gave birth to our little Princess, and I cannot fathom missing the birth. I am a rabbi, and I had the opportunity to visit Poland with 15 students that I adore, on a life changing trip, which was set two weeks before our due date. And yet, the idea never entered my mind, because of the remote possibility that my wife would go into labor early, and I would be several thousand miles away. Mark Schlereth said that he would play, because that is his job, that's what he's paid to do. I am grateful that my employers know that as much as I love and cherish my job, if ever there is a conflict between my job and my family, my family wins out all day, every day. 

      He then said that he would have to play, because, after all 53 of his teammates depend on him. I hear that, as I myself am an enormously accomplished athlete. But Mark, WHAT ABOUT YOUR WIFE? YOU KNOW, THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN YOUR LIFE?? You know, the lady you will grow old with, and build a family with?  Is it not more important for you to be there for HER?!?! And Mark, its great you'll spend the rest of your life with your kids, but what message are you conveying to them? You're all real important, but not as important as a game in which a bunch of big guys run around and tackle each other? REALLY???

      I was also dismayed over Mike Golic's authoritative claim that, "there is no right or wrong." Mike, I love you man, but I vehemently disagree with you. There is a right or wrong, and the right thing is to miss the game and be there for your partner in the most momentous moment in both of your lives. 

      After last year's 43-8 Great Debacle, (for more check out http://rabbidannywolfe.blogspot.com/2014/02/reflections-on-broncos-super-debacle-48.html)

I disdain the Seattle Seahawks with a passion, and I would love nothing more than for the New England Patriots to decimate them and quiet down their players and fans once and for all. However, if in fact Richard Sherman misses the Superbowl to be present for his baby's birth, I will become a Seahawks fan, and buy a Richard Sherman jersey for myself and my children. Because like the great Sandy Koufax before him, who missed a World Series game that was played on Yom Kippur, Richard Sherman would yet again be making a very bold, mind blowing declaration: At the end of the day, it is just a game.

Sincerely,

Danny Wolfe

Marshawn Marshawn Marshawn

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Dear Henry,

      Yesterday was Media Day in Arizona, a day during the week preceding the Super Bowl in which players are obligated to speak to the Press and answer the questions. One player, named Marshawn Lynch hates speaking to the media more than a little light grey field mouse hates cats. Marshawn has been fined many times for his refusal to speak to the media, so yesterday, he had the great idea to show up for the required time, and just repeat the same line, over, and over, and over again. The line he decided to use was, "I'm just here so I won't get fined." So the interview went something like this: "Marshawn, did you eat your Wheaties this morning?" "I'm just here so I won't get fined."

"What are your thoughts on world hunger? "I'm just here so I won't get fined."  "What are your thoughts on the Patriots illegally deflating footballs." "I'm just here so I won't get fined."

        While quite entertaining and amusing  to watch, I wanted to explore his choice of wording, "I'm just here so I won't get fined." What he really means is, "It is a darn shame I have to be here right now. I would rather be watching reruns of Full House for the fourth time than be here right now. Heck, I would even  rather be watching an UnAmerican sport such as soccer right now. One thing I know, is that I do NOT want to be here now, and the only reason I am is to avoid a financial penalty." 

        While Marshawn has got some serious football skills, I think this attitude is a terrible one. But it is an attitude that I think many of us are guilty of. How many of us go to work every day for no other reason than the fact that we have to, or else we will be fired, and then have no money, and then have to beg for food and sleep on the streets? I used to have to take a commuter train to work every day, and 98 percent of my copassengers looked more miserable than the good folks from Green Bay looked last week after the Great Debacle. How many times have you told a person, innocently inquiring  about your well being, "I'm okay, I guess I am surviving." Surviving is what Robinson Curusoe tried to do on a desert island. We spend most of our lives working. G-d forbid we should do something that we hate, something that we dread waking up for everyday. As a great rabbi says, it's time that we stop surviving, and start living. 

Sincerely,

Danny Wolfe

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The Joy of Having a Child on Shabbos

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Dear Henry,
      As a Sabbath observant Jew, I had very mixed emotions about the prospect of my Better Half going into labor on Shabbos. While usually on Shabbos I do not drive, use electricity, my phone, computer, or any other technologies, when a woman is in labor, she, and her husband are required to violate the Sabbath for her safety, as she is viewed as an individual whose life is endangered. Nevertheless, it felt very unnatural as I picked up the phone to call the taxi, and as the taxi driver turned on gangsta rap, a genre of music I usually like, to calm his nerves as he drove us to the hospital.
      However, there was one unmistakeable, unforgettable upside of my wife giving birth on Shabbos, and that is that after my precious daughter was born, and the danger had subsided, I could no longer use my phone, or violate the Shabbos in any other way. What that means, is that in the first magical moments of my Princess's life, there were absolutely NO distractions whatsoever. My wife and I arrived at the hospital as two people. Suddenly, in the middle of Shabbos, we became three; a phenomenon I pray each and every one of my thousands of readers experiences in their lives. And the three of us had a beautiful Shabbos lunch together. We each took a lovely Shabbos nap. And I was able to hold my daughter, and bask at G-d's kindness and His creation. Unlike in previous years, when I would immediately snap pictures and call loved ones, this time, my Princess had 100% of my focus, and I simply held her in my arms, unknowingly giggling with blissful delight. I was not in a rush to get home to relieve our incredible babysitter who was watching my other three angelic children at home, because I could not get in a car for six hours. My only concern was living in this holy moment of time, experiencing my love for my wife and daughter, savoring every second of it, and cherishing the holy Sabbath.
     This experience taught me that this is what Shabbos should always be. Many of us (especially me) live our lives enslaved to our technology. Instead of cherishing a sunset, we have our phones out, snapping #sunsetSelfies so all of our "friends" on Instagram and Facebook can 'like' it.  Instead of contemplating G-d's wonders as we gaze at the Grand Canyon we are too busy making sure we take enough pictures from enough different angles. Thank G-d we have Shabbos, which requires us to put our technology away, and to live our lives, to engage this sanctified moment of time. It enables us to truly experience our families-- to be present with those we love. Shabbos is a time where we put everything away and we delight in G-d's incredible world. This past Shabbos, I further realized just how miraculous His world is.

Sincerely,
Danny Wolfe

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When was the Last Time you Thanked your Garbage Man?

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