This is me.
All dressed up with no where…like, say BOSTON…to go.
In my kitchen.
Where you’ll find me daily.
[Ok…the picture isn’t exactly me. It’s meant to be a representation. But you get the idea.]
I’ve missed CCAR conventions before.
So why is this absence different from all other absences??
[Sorry…couldn’t resist the seasonal humour.]
On all other years, missing one conference was simply missing one conference; on this year, missing one conference reinforces my new reality.
That of a pulpit-less rabbi.
As a #JewInThePew, I no longer have a conference line. Apparently my newest job title, Chief Scullery Maid, doesn’t include that.
As a #JewInThePew, it might seem as though the only conferences I ought to be attending are this one. Or this one. Or even this one.
You know…where the sessions better align with my new-found skills and duties.
But strip away all of the outer trappings and what is left?
It is the core of who I am.
The prospect of not attending another conference…
Perhaps that shakes me because it reinforces the denial of who I am. Or who I am meant to be.
Or who I think I’m meant to be.
Maybe I’m just missing my rabbi friends.
Remember when we were in Boston and we…
O.M.G-d. — the food in Boston was the worst ever.
The Mikvah Monologues were amazing…you should have been there.
How will I catch up?
The inside jokes will, as so many do, zip over my head. Or past my cheek.
I follow their tweets, Facebook updates, blog posts.
Living vicariously is not all it’s cracked up to be.