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| Book tour! |
1. In addition to grieving and overcoming pain, the book really seems to explore keeping up appearances in a lot of ways. What did this tragedy instill within you about that and how society so often avoids talking about death, in general?
Death is the Great Unknown, and most human being love nothing more than snuggling up and getting all cozy with certainty. The trouble is— certainty hardly ever truly exists in our lives.
The greatest fears all living things hold within them is the loss of someone they love and the loss of their own lives. Avoiding death and survival instinct is built into the tiniest amoebas, and they don’t even have intricate death mythology or structure of beliefs about an afterlife. Humanity has been mythologizing death since we had cognizance, one to make peace with it for our own demise, but also to ease the profound suffering of being left behind in death by anyone we love.
Around Christmas, my mom and I were going through some of her life treasures in the basement.
“Oh I like those shoes,” I said salivating slightly.
“Patience, Al, you can borrow them now but you keep them when I’m dead.”
“Roger that, Mom.”
“Cheer up. You’ll get it all when I’m dead! Who am I gonna leave it to— the cat?”
This level of banter is pretty standard for us.
But the other day I experienced a very special career highlight, and my wonderful, witty mother was there to bear witness. We have an unspoken tradition where after every major life event of mine (such as an opening night, a book launch, a concert), she takes me aside and we pause a few minutes to revel in what has just transpired. After we did that, I paused as said:
“Mom. Just so you know, this tradition means everything to me.”
“Me too,” she replied.
“And,” I continued after reflecting a moment, “I don’t know about the details of the afterlife and all that, but I’m just letting you know now, that if you do get to come back and haunt or visit or say hi, this ‘after the show’ moment would be when I’d really like to know you’re popping in.”
“Okay,” she said, then smirking added “Good talk.”
We laughed. Life and death and real-talk chat is no big deal to the Silber ladies anymore. As you can see, the ability to so blithely operate in that kind of dialogue does not put a damper on the joyous occasion, it made it even more memorable, without being a huge downer.
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| Ta-DA!!! Real Talk! |
Taking death and grief out and looking at them directly seems unpleasant, unnecessary and downright “grim,” but it removes the stigma from a human experience every single one of us is going to have sooner or later, and avoiding the subject is not going to prevent it, and certainly not the solution for making any kind of peace with it.
My suggestion is to very simply: think and talk about it. Recognize that you might be avoiding the subject out of discomfort or fear. The more you accept the reality of death and grief, the more you can get on with the business of truly investing in and fully living your life.
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| the real Rabbi Daniel Syme |
2. Why did you make the choice to fictionalize Rabbi Syme [in After Anatevka]?
What a wonderful question. Ah, beautiful beautiful Rabbi Daniel Syme...
I went about fictionalizing the real Rabbi Syme (who is chronicled literally in
WHGP) into the fictional version that captured his spirit, in Rabbi Syme.
The real Rabbi Daniel Syme was a crucial advocate to and for not only me, but to and for my father’s human legacy.
Fictional Rabbi Syme (in
After Anatevka) is based very loosely upon the real-life Rabbi Syme (chronicled literally in
WHGP)—loosely because my description in the novel is not so much a literal, but more of an evocative recollection and honoring of his influence. Real-life Rabbi Syme and I only spent a collection of minutes together in 2001, but they were crucial minutes. He gave me the gift of delivering the eulogy at my father's funeral service, as well as bearing witness to it when he lead the funeral service, and above all, he gave me an hour of his time months later, reminding me of what was eternal, and chartering a map toward the beauty, strength, and individuality my faith. Irreplaceable gifts one can never forget.
The fictional version of the character was my way of honoring the man who was my father's advocate, and thus, Perchik's (who is modeled in many ways after my father). He was also my first spiritual teacher of any kind.
The influence of Rabbi Syme proves another true-to-life maxim: that we never know the depth of the influence we have upon one another. A fleeting moment to one, might bear a lifetime of profundity to another, for better and for worse. So it is in these tiny actions that we must recognize that our influence on earth is vast, has meaning, and should never be taken for granted.
To read more about Rabbi Syme click here:
The Real Rabbi Syme
The Real Rabbi Syme continued
3. What questions do you still have for G-d?
Why so many
Fast and the Furious movies, Big Guy?
4. Later, with the chapter "Where Memories," you state that you "have always clutched fiercely onto ordinary moments." As I was reading the book, I had a pad of sticky notes + immediately scrawled "Anton Chekhov," whose plays featured plots with very little actually happening (The Cherry Orchard is a favorite of mine). Many people don't or aren't willing to find the poeticism in the mundane, the little moments that don't seem to many anything on the surface. Is it human nature to only remember the big, life-changing moments?
It is interesting you mention Anton Chekov and
The Cherry Orchard. I don’t state it directly, but the “mysterious man” Perchik meets in the Moscow bar in 1903 (about 2/3 of the way through
After Anatevka) is indeed Anton Chekhov. I drop about a dozen or so clues, even going so far as to have Perchik inspire Chekhov with the phrase “All Russia is our orchard…” but I never state it explicitly. It was my little nod to the theatre.
I don’t think it is human nature to only focus on big life moments— I think many people vividly recall the seemingly minute details of their lives. What I think most people do not practice is the meaning-making around and of these details. Making meaning of our lives is why many people participate in religion, why they read and go to the theatre, why they read horoscopes and attend spiritual gatherings. Not every human being finds meaning-making fruitful— some prefer to live utterly in the present and that is okay if it works for them.
I happen to be a person who not only enjoys, but needs to make meaning of my and all human life. I do think I have a gift for creating a myth around an experience almost instantaneously, but as a few very wise friends have observed, sometimes my speedy ability to mythologize hijacks my experiencing of the moment itself. And noting that, I endeavor to stay fully aware in the present, and meaning-make later.
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| with Rabbi Syme |
Continuing on with this series, and my love-letters to journaling, Part 4’s offering reiterates why making journaling a habit creates so much power. Journaling is a beautiful and powerful facilitator of self-discovery. By journaling in the morning and/or evening, you’ll quickly see your life laid bare before you— in your own handwriting, in black white; with crystal-clear clarity. You’ll see what blocks or obstacles might potentially be removed, as well as what should continue to be included and further cultivated in your life. 
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