Shofar? So Good!
Photo/Aaron Hill.
By Aaron Hill
I spent several years of my adult life unaffiliated with the Jewish community. When I came back to Jewish life, the first reason why I was glad that I did was the immediate intergenerational human connection. Even at modestly attended events, I could count on seeing kids, teenagers, people around my age (broadly defined), and lots of energetic young-at-heart people. Living in a town without any of my biological family in the vicinity, finding that community of supportive people is part of what empowered us to decide to have a kid. Yes, the sleepless nights would be as advertised, but part of the joy that was going to outweigh the stress was supposed to be getting to bring the kid to the synagogue and giving everyone there a chance to enjoy watching him grow.
Ronan was around nine months old when the pandemic hit. It’s hard to remember how long we expected these circumstances to last when they first began, but I have a clear memory of exchanging pun ideas with Rabbi Benjamin in reference to those expectations. It seemed obvious that remote Shavuot would be a likely plan, but when the topic of Zoom Kippur came up, I remember having a certain naive feeling of, “Yes, it’ll probably be online, but I sure hope everything is much better by then.”
When the pandemic first hit, we had to adapt to the new circumstance of juggling our full-time remote work schedules as educators with caring for Ronan without the benefit of daycare or local family. We were fortunate to have flexible academic schedules, so we could stagger our appointments to make sure one of us was always available to be with him at any given moment. Given my role as a music professor teaching over Zoom, that meant that if he was napping, I listened to my students with headphones on and adapted to provide helpful instruction to them without the benefit of being able to demonstrate with my own playing. Since Ronan is a morning person, unlike both of his parents, he woke up around 4 am for most of the days of the pandemic ready to take over the world with radiant energy, which might have been even more of a strain on our well-being if those were normal times with frequent evening rehearsals and concerts.
The most stressful stretch was when my wife experienced a high fever, and her rapid showed a positive COVID-19 result. I tested negative, so she isolated herself in the bedroom while I solo parented a confused toddler in the rest of the house while leaving food and water by the bedroom door for her. We found out a few days later that her test was a false positive, which was a relief, but anyone who’s ever been a parent knows that even such a significant piece of stress-relieving news is often quickly replaced by the alert vigilance necessary to chase around a curious kid and keep them safe.
We were lucky to have otherwise had excellent health and secure employment during a time when so many of our neighbors faced much more severe daily stresses and devastating personal losses. Even with the level of life disruption we experienced, I developed the survival skill of numbing myself to the ups and downs of daily life with my students and family. I was either extremely focused on parenting and work tasks in front of me or whenever I had the chance to relax once Ronan went to bed, I became a Netflix-fueled zombie. Since being able to take him back to daycare during the week and returning to playing music with other people, I have restored my capacity for joy and sadness. As a parent of a son (to the best of my knowledge at this point, unless Ronan tells me otherwise), I always want to give him a model for a father who’s comfortable experiencing and showing a full range of human emotions, and now that interactions are returning to normal, I’m grateful to have the chance to be that person for him. I can already notice the difference now that he has recently acquired the ability to speak full sentences and offer his opinions on the world around him.
Given that a majority of his life has now been spent in these circumstances, Ronan’s connections to his Jewish identity have been particularly meaningful to witness. He’s gone from not talking or eating solid food at all to being able to say “challah” and thoroughly enjoy devouring it. Having heard me practice the shofar for Rosh Hashanah, he got in the habit of pointing at the shofar and asking me to play it for him for months after the High Holidays were finished. He enjoys applesauce with latkes, and if the fridge is ever left open long enough for him to see a jar of applesauce, he yells “SAUCE!” persistently until he gets to have some. We lit Chanukah candles on our windowsill, which prompted our friendly neighbors across the street to leave some very sweet gifts on our doorstep along with a nice note about how inspired they were to learn more about Judaism since learning that they have Jewish neighbors. Our PJ Library subscription has given him some of his favorite books, particularly the Tu B’Shvat book where he likes to pat the ground on the page where the family plant trees and the Havdalah book where the girl enjoys singing songs and looking at the stars in the sky with her Moms, Saba and Savta. He had his second birthday recently, and since most of his experiences with candles involved weekly Shabbat observance, he calmly put his hands over his eyes when we brought him his birthday cake as if we were saying our Shabbat blessings.
Just before this writing, I had my first chance to attend an in-person service for Natalie Sera’s lovely Bat Mitzvah. Thanks to recent CDC recommendations on indoor gathering with other fully vaccinated people, we will be enjoying a small Passover Seder. To anyone reading this, I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.
Photo/Katrin Talbot.
Dr. Aaron Hill (he/him) has served as an Assistant Professor of Oboe and Classical Saxophone at the University of Nevada, Reno, since 2018. Prior to this appointment, he also held faculty positions at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, University of Virginia, and James Madison University. He can be seen performing around town as a frequent guest with the Reno Philharmonic and Reno Chamber Orchestra and as a recitalist and chamber music collaborator. He lives in Reno with his wife Laura, a middle school STEM educator, their son Ronan, and Rosalyn, their Australian cattle dog.
Thank you for visiting Humanities Heart to Heart, a program of Nevada Humanities. Any views or opinions represented in posts or content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage are personal and belong solely to the author or contributor and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. At no time are these posts understood to promote particular political, religious, or ideological points of view; advocate for a particular program or social or political action; or support specific public policies or legislation on behalf of Nevada Humanities, its staff, any donor, partner, or affiliated organization. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on these posts or found by following any link embedded in these posts. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage at any time.