fbpx

How I Spent My Summer Vacation (Again)

Those who have read my weekly columns during the pandemic know that in the past eighteen months, I’ve essentially regressed into a 1950s housewife, as, like many mothers, my professional pursuits took a backseat as I quickly morphed into a chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, teacher, medic, entertainer and hair stylist (I rue the day I tried to give myself bangs).
[additional-authors]
September 1, 2021
Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

For nearly a year, I’ve been waiting for this paper to go back to print. And now, I feel as though I’ve been reunited with a long-lost love—namely, an inimitable connection with readers. Thank you for choosing to read my words. I consider it an indescribable privilege.

Those who have read my weekly columns during the pandemic know that in the past eighteen months, I’ve essentially regressed into a 1950s housewife, as, like many mothers, my professional pursuits took a backseat as I quickly morphed into a chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, teacher, medic, entertainer and hair stylist (I rue the day I tried to give myself bangs).

In January, my father was hospitalized with COVID-19 and pneumonia. This terrible experience resulted in three changes: I immediately let go of petty grudges and began showing my loved ones unabashed love; I tried dying my roots myself to cover all those stress-induced gray hairs, only to have an allergic reaction that turned my scalp azure blue; and I sought comfort in the warm, cheesy arms of Wacky Mac each night while my father was hospitalized. I gained five pounds in nearly one week.  

Between my hand-sown watermelon and that squirrel, I felt like a Disney princess surrounded by lush plant life and obedient creatures.

Yes, I became an apron-wearing June Cleaverzadeh and a pasta-hoarding, worried daughter. But this summer, I also became something I never imagined: a watermelon farmer.

At a local garden nursery, I bought a “Sugar Baby” watermelon plant with two dangling melons, each the size of a golf ball. “How sweet,” my mother said when she saw it in a pot on my balcony. She then proceeded to place three giant melons, including a Hami melon, on my kitchen table, adding, “Your melons are cute, but don’t be delusional. This is the real stuff.”

“How long will they take to grow full-sized?” asked my father with a devilishly hungry look on his face. The man has never met a melon he hasn’t carved. I quickly shooed him away toward the kitchen to set to work dicing my mother’s unsolicited (and clearly superior) offerings.

Soon, I found myself squatting on the balcony and talking to the Sugar Baby watermelon plant, encouraging it to grow and thrive. Once or twice, I chased a plucky squirrel that tried to eat from a birdfeeder off of the balcony. But between my hand-sown watermelon and that squirrel, I felt like a Disney princess surrounded by lush plant life and obedient creatures. Yes, that’s as close as I came to channeling Snow White in Pico-Robertson.

But I learned so much from those two small melons: Don’t waste your precious energy trying to rush something that follows its own timeline; don’t judge someone (or something) for what you perceive as a lack of growth, because there may be a bounty of activity beneath, in the metaphoric (or, in this case, literal) roots. And don’t ignore anything (or anyone) whom you love. Find small ways to connect and engage every day. I was known to sing Persian limericks to my precious watermelons, and I may have even read them the news from time to time.

I also learned to put my need to control everything aside, especially when I had to restrain myself from giving the plant water on Shabbat, even when it looked desperately parched (Jews are not permitted to water plants on Shabbat).

A few weeks ago, my husband and I took the kids on a three-day vacation. When I returned home, both melons were gone. A squirrel had ripped them off of the vine and ran off with his bounty. Whether he rolled them off of the balcony like small boulders is anyone’s guess.

It was a humbling lesson in the impermanence of life (and the need for mesh wire netting).

This week, I’ll be planting a dwarf pomegranate tree on my balcony in honor of Rosh Hashanah. If the squirrel bites into its beautiful fruit, this summer has taught me that there’s only one thing I can do: Hope the creature enjoys a year of sweetness, fertility, and numerous good deeds.


Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby

 

Did you enjoy this article?
You'll love our roundtable.

Editor's Picks

Latest Articles

Hineni: Choosing Torah

As always, we each have the power to choose to listen, to learn, and to grow, or we can shut our ears to that still, small voice. Are you listening? Are you willing? Are you here?

Doubling Down on Who We Are

The work, the ancient, urgent, irreplaceable work of Jewish community, is the answer. Not as retreat. Not as consolation. But as the most powerful response available to us.

I Chose Judaism

I was born Jewish, but I chose Judaism in the sense that I came to understand what Judaism represents, how it gives meaning and purpose to my life and how important it is for the world.

We Are Grieving: A Lament

I am grieving the loss of an illusion, that we had finally outgrown this ancient poison, that education and progress had cured a sickness older than our temples’ ruins.

On Wholeness

This, I think, is belonging. And belonging is always to play a part in something larger than oneself.

It’s Really a Wonderful Life

Like George Bailey, Moses felt he could not carry this burden alone and did not want to live. Even Moses could not see all the good that he had done in this life. Little did he know that thousands of years later, we would still be thankful for his leadership.

Grief in our Times

During the three weeks before Tisha b’Av we remember how the Romans began their attack, breaking the walls, creating insecurity and fear among the people.

Squeezed from Both Sides

Unlike the DSA members who attack Israel as a matter of political conviction (albeit dangerously misguided conviction), Vance’s criticisms are instead the product of pure political calculation. It’s hard to know which is worse.

Happy Unrequited Birthday, America!

With the milestone of July 4th imminent, there’s an appalling amount of doom and gloom about America by its own citizenry—even elected officials. The celebratory mood is mixed, if not altogether nihilistic.

More news and opinions than at a Shabbat dinner, right in your inbox.