Space Between the Lines

 

I have a pet peeve that apparently annoys no one but me. It has to do with the amount of space people leave between them and the person in line in front of them. Inside the bank, the post office or the Dunkin Donuts, the guy in front of me always seems to stand a good six feet behind the customer who is currently being waited on. It’s as if he is fearful of eavesdropping on a confession. Right, I tell the coffee shop cashier my deepest secrets. Don’t you?

“Move UP!” I want to scream. “He’s ordering a large coffee with cream and one sugar, not planning a hostile takeover!”

For years I have observed only men doing this. Women appear much more comfortable cozying up to the stranger standing in front or behind them. A couple of feet of space is more than enough. They don’t act like the male customers at CVS, for example, who allow so much wasted space between them and the person at the counter that I could push four shopping carts – ear to ear – through the space. And this reminds me. I really hate when this happens and I invariably get pushed back down an aisle, where I find myself staring at on-sale Christmas candy. Come on. You know I’m weak.

But lately, I have found that women have begun developing the same habit, backing off from the person in line in front of them, as though they forgot to bathe. Frequently, they are so preoccupied texting or talking on their cell phones that they are completely oblivious to the cavernous spaces they create.

Does anyone else see the irony in all of this? With social media, cell phones, and cameras on every inanimate and animate object, we already have zero privacy. So why do we suddenly feel the need to create a force field around us when we are actually WITH other human beings.

We hold onto our little personal acreage like squatters, forcing the person behind the counter to yell across the room, “Can I help the next in line?”

I hate this part, too.  I don’t want to yell from my otherworldly location, “Make that a double caramel latte with vanilla and non-fat.” Whose business is it to judge me on my breakfast drink? Hah, a double caramel latte with syrup and she bothers with skim milk! I can actually hear the snickers.

Well, I would, if I weren’t standing so far away.

 

 

 

Filed under: Daughters,Events,News,Relationships,Single Fathers,Single Mothers,Sons
by Ellie Fisher
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13
Jan
2012

To LIFE!

We went to the Hasidic wedding of the daughter of friends, Ori and Susan, expecting to learn a lot, but frankly not to have any fun.

“Dress modestly,” comes the first email to those friends of theirs who are not personally familiar with the Lubavitch community. “You’ll sit together, but you can’t dance together. The women will dance with the women, the men with the men.” Funny, how Jon’s bum knee starts to act up. “And dress warmly because regardless of the weather, custom requires that the ceremony be held outdoors.”

So with a little bit of dread and a good deal of curiosity, we drive the one and a half hours to Livingston, New Jersey with friends David and Jackie. I have added black tights to my dressy three quarter length organza skirt and a black tank to wear under my beaded cropped sweater. Despite it being only October 30, it is cold and damp and I have on a long wool coat, scarf and gloves. I don’t feel as much modest, as I do frumpy.

The wedding begins with a bountiful buffet of all sorts of foods and an opportunity to see and congratulate the bride and the mothers of the bride and groom. As a woman, I am allowed to hug Erica. Jon isn’t. He, in fact, heads upstairs with the men who are conducting their own rituals with the groom.

At one point before the wedding vows, the groom comes down to make sure he has the right bride, and returns again to cover her face with a veil as thick as the curtains in Tara. I keep focusing on how gorgeous Erica looks.

As promised, the ceremony is held outdoors in the cold, raw, gray late afternoon. The men in black suits and black hats and the women in warm coats and gloves create a contrast to the bride who looks illuminated in her long-sleeved, high-necked lace gown and thick, opaque veil.

I take in everything, fascinated by a culture that I am unfamiliar with but one that has invited me in as a guest. The bride and groom smile a lot but they do not touch. In fact, up until this point in their engagement, they have not been permitted to touch. That will come after the ceremony, and in private.

We all head into the party – women dancing on one side of a cloth wall that divides the dance floor, men on the other. I am not prepared for how much fun it is to dance to energetic music and with Erica’s friends. No one remains seated.

All evening long the music continues, as well as forms of entertainment for the bride and groom. There is the fire twirler and the man who balances three chairs on his nose. And the dance performed by Erica’s roommates, all of whom don brightly colored wigs for the number. We jump and gyrate until, well, at least until my feet hurt.

Despite the requirement that the men and women dance separately, at one point Ori dances with his daughter. I don’t know whether this follows custom, but I do know there isn’t a dry eye.

As the evening winds down and we say our goodbyes to everyone, I realize I’ve been smiling all night. It has been a beautiful wedding and, maybe a little bit unexpectedly, a total blast.

Jon even forgot about his bum knee.

Filed under: Daughters,Daughters-in-Law,Events,Fathers and Daughters,Grandparents,Mothers-in-Law,Relationships,Sons
by Ellie Fisher
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17
Nov
2011

Book Signing Today in Peddler’s Village!!!

If you’re looking for something fun to do on this gorgeous Sunday, come to the Apple Festival at Peddler’s Village in Lahaska, PA. While you’re there, stop by the Canterbury Tales Book Store between 2 p.m. and 4 p.m. and say hello. I’ll be signing my books, and munching on everything apple (including the world’s best chocolate covered apples!)

Filed under: Daughters-in-Law,Fathers and Daughters,Grandparents,Mothers-in-Law,Relationships,Single Fathers,Single Mothers,Sisters,Sisters-in-Law,Sons
by Ellie Fisher
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06
Nov
2011

My Turn

So here I am: Author of three books about relationships including one that specifically delves into the issue of mothers-in-law.  From my very secure and confident perch I have given advice to women and daughters and sons since 2005. My wisdom has been discussed and considered by countless readers (or so I’d like to think).  I’ve absorbed and then passed on the earnest suggestions of many experts in the parenting field as well as those from other moms and their children. Now, after six years, I get to practice what I preach.

Gulp.

I learned a few weeks ago that I will soon become the subject of my book. My daughter, the older of my two children, has become engaged and plans to wed next summer.  Before you say to me, “Uh huh, let’s see how you feel now that the shoe is on your foot!” – let me just say the following:

First, I love my future son-in-law. He’s smart, hardworking, compassionate and, above all, adores my daughter. He’s made it easy for me to approve. I’m not sure he’s yet read Chapter Two of It’s Either Her or Me but he’s instinctively following the single most important piece of advice: Always, always, always put your wife first.

Second, I also love my future mechutonim (a unique Yiddish word that describes the relationship between the bride’s parents and the groom’s parents).  Coincidentally, before our kids ever met the groom’s mom and I had gotten to know each other through some mutual friends.  She generously attended the book launch for It’s Either her or Me and clearly understands how our kids are making a life for themselves. Plus, she loves my daughter.

Whew. Though what’s not to love…

Third, my future son-in-law has not one sister, but two. And from what I can tell they are fond of my daughter, as she is of them. Matter of fact, they seem pretty excited about their older brother marrying my daughter, who, having read the early, raw versions of It’s Either Her or Me understands her role in being a great sister-in-law to her husband’s siblings.

I know the road to wedding planning and thereafter is curvy at best and potholed at worst, but I’m hoping that after I have shamelessly just plugged my book, that I will, in fact, follow my own advice.

Filed under: Daughters,Daughters-in-Law,Mothers-in-Law,Relationships,Sisters,Sisters-in-Law,Sons
by Ellie Fisher
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09
Oct
2011

Ethan at Area Code 908: I Owe You

The other day I was in Cape May, NJ for a long weekend. I got up early and rode my bike to the beach to join a yoga class I’ve taken before. The class was a bit disappointing but the experience was spectacular. The sun was still on its way up, the ocean waves were vibrant, and the sand was only randomly spotted with humans. I left the beach feeling rejuvenated and looking forward to heading home and making breakfast for my family.

I climbed on my bike, took a quick look at my phone to check the time, and rode home.

As soon as I arrived at my back door, I realized my wallet, which contained my brand new iPhone, my driver’s license, several credit cards and a little bit of cash, was missing. I ripped apart my yoga bag, reexamined my bike basket (it’s wire and see-through so that tells you the level of my panic) and nothing.

I spotted my boyfriend Jon on the front porch and asked him to give me a ride to the beach. We climbed in the car and drove the approximate 2 ½ miles to where I had practiced yoga.  So much for any residual serenity.

When we arrived at the spot where I last remembered looking at my phone, and therefore had possession of my wallet, I jumped out of the car and told Jon I would retrace my steps back to the house and would he ask some of the local shopkeepers if anyone had turned anything in.

In my flip-flops I began walking in the street intently looking ahead and from side to side. I figured there were three possible scenarios. Some less than honorable person thought “Bonanza!” and was now enjoying a shopping spree at my expense. Some honorable but rushed person saw it lying in the street and moved it out of harm’s way, say to the curb (where some less than honorable person….) or some really honorable person picked it up and turned it into authorities.

The only good thing about my walking slowly back to the house – despite cursing my earlier circuitous scenic bike route home – was that I began to calm down and consider what needed to be done. First, I would call lifeguard headquarters and then the police department to see if anyone had found it. Then I would go online and check out PA Department of Transportation to report a missing license. Then I would go through my larger wallet and try to figure out what credit cards I had so carelessly thrown into my smaller one. And I would contact those companies.

My call to the lifeguard headquarters turned up empty but my call to the police was successful. Someone named Ethan had found my wallet and had left his cellphone number for me. Ethan’s dad answered the phone. His son – about 14 or 15 – saw the wallet lying in the street right by a parked SUV. Assuming it had fallen out of the car, they left a note on the windshield saying they had found their phone and wallet.

Those people called Ethan and said they had lost their phone and that the missing wallet and its contents belonged to them. But when Ethan’s dad asked them for the name on the license, they obviously didn’t come up with mine. That’s when Ethan said to his dad that maybe someone on a bike had dropped the wallet. Yay Ethan! My hero.

I met the family at a bagel shop less than a block from where I had done yoga. I was grateful but also so unsettled that I never got more than his first name and his dad’s cellphone number. So if you are out there Ethan, let me know, so I can give you a proper thank you.

It occurred to me after I left the bagel shop that if you hadn’t found my wallet, the guy in the SUV probably would have.

Filed under: Relationships,Sons
by Ellie Fisher
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20
Jul
2011
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