April 16, 2012 | 11:06 pm

Chelsea Football: A Sea of Sexy Men

Posted by Ilana Angel

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I am not a soccer fan.  My son played for years and I sat through countless games supporting him.  He became an All Star player and truly loved it. I would cheer him on and wait for something to happen. Anything to happen. Running back and forth across a field for an hour was just not exciting. I was certain when my son stopped playing my soccer days were over.

He gave it up years ago but I would occasionally see a great goal on the news and think that if they could guarantee I would get an amazing moment in each game, I might be able to watch it.  Since that was not going to happen, I happily walked away from the game I sat through for 10 years and moved on to the greatest sport ever, hockey.

My friend Daniel is English and he loves soccer, or football as it were.  By love it of course I mean he is obsessed with it and can give you details that would indicate he is wired like an encyclopedia.  His love for the Chelsea team is deep and passionate.  He speaks of the players as if he was their childhood friend, which is actually quite cute.

It must be an English thing.  My father was English and a diehard fan of Manchester United.  I’m not allowed to discuss that with Daniel.  He’s very sensitive about Chelsea.  By sensitive of course I mean they are the only team that matter and other teams are not to be mentioned unless it’s in a conversation about how Chelsea kicked their asses.

I am a good friend, so in an attempt to support Daniel, I am trying to learn about his passion.  He does not know my watching Chelsea will result in his having to sit though some serious reality television with me, but I’m waiting until after the soccer season to break the news to him.  For now we are focused on Chelsea, and reality television will have to wait.

Not only have I watched games with Daniel, I listen to daily updates about how the boys of Chelsea are doing.  I ask questions, fake interest, pretend to be fascinated, and support him like a friend should.  That was in the beginning.  Things are very different now.  It turns out that soccer, while very complicated with its rules, is a sea of gorgeous men.

Apparently there is a rule of some kind that demands that soccer players have near perfect bodies, washboard stomachs, butts that you can pop a quarter off of, and legs you can envision being wrapped around you. Soccer players are simply divine looking, and this sport is worth watching because there is beauty and sexiness to be seen.

It’s not just the players that are interesting.  The managers are intriguing men and I have narrowed my sights on two truly divine specimens.  Jose Mourinho is the Manager of the Real Madrid team and he is delicious.  Roberto Di Matteo is the Interim Manager of Chelsea and I have decided that he needs to be offered the manager job for real.

Roberto seems sweet to me.  He is always wearing a gorgeous coat to the games, which may not matter to some, but I think is important.  He is doing a great job and they need to remove Interim from his title.  I don’t understand how this games works, and it’s too complicated for me to give it any serious study, but I know they are winning with him in the post.

Jose is yummy.  By yummy of course I mean I want to run my fingers through his hair and have him talk to me in Portuguese.  There is something sexy about him in a James Bond kind of way.  He looks like a bad boy who got away with a lot because he is so handsome.  He also used to be the Manager of Chelsea.  It turns out soccer is all rather incestuous.

Soccer is the ultimate in reality television and each team should have their own show.  From the rivalries, to the rules that make no sense, this sport is fascinating and the fans are a big part of that. Americans are into football and baseball, but this is different. This is a sexy sport in terms of the men who play, but also because people are so passionate about it. 

Soccer fans are a little nutty when it comes to their teams.  There is history and memories and opinions and grudges.  Soccer is not as popular in the States as it is in Europe and I think it’s because woman have not discovered it.  Go to a pub during a game and it’s like being a kid in a candy store.  There are European men everywhere and they are easy to read.

You spot the one you like and within seconds you know what his team is, then you scream for that team.  That’s all it takes.  He buys you a drink, and you play dumb about the game so he can explain it to you.  By play dumb of course I mean just be yourselves because unless you grew up with this game you will never understand what they are talking about.

Poor Daniel has tried to explain the point system and I’m just not getting it. I have no real interest in learning of course, but still, it’s complicated. Soccer is a game that sexy men play and sexy men watch.  They are not all gorgeous of course, but if you’re lucky, you find a handsome man with a sexy accent.  Soccer is a sea of men for women.

I am slowly becoming a fan of this game.  By this game of course I mean Daniel, but you do what you’ve got to do.  It turns out that soccer is quite fun.  Each game is like a great party that could erupt into a war at any given moment.  I am watching, learning, and starting to get it.  Not really, but if I say I’m getting it enough times maybe I will.

Chelsea plays on Wednesday against Barcelona and Daniel is both excited and terrified.  He wants them to win badly and so I hope they do.  I will always love Manchester United, but today I am a fan of Chelsea.  I will keep Jose in my fantasies, and Roberto in my prayers.  These men are sexy and I have not even mentioned the perfection that is David Beckham.

I will probably always be more of a fan of the men than the game, but who knows.  Perhaps watching Chelsea winning the FA Cup will be just what I need to embrace the sport.  It turns out soccer is rather exciting, so I am going to give it a chance.  To the blue boys of Chelsea, I wish you well against Barcelona, am buying my celery, and keeping the faith.

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April 15, 2012 | 12:08 pm

Dating with Children: Hope & Expectations

Posted by Ilana Angel

Dating is hard.  Dating with young children is harder.  Dating with older children in nerve wracking.  My son is 16 and now has opinions about who I date.  He wants me to be happy and is very protective of my heart.  He has seen it get broken and so he wants to make sure I date someone decent and kind, who treats us both well.

My son does not meet the men I date until it is something serious.  I have always felt a man needs to earn the pleasure of knowing my child, and few have qualified as being good enough.  Unless I am in a relationship with a man, he does not meet him, and that has been my rule.

“Daniel” has complicated that rule a little bit.  We spend a lot of time together, talk daily, and have begun to intertwine our lives.  I have sent my clients to his business and he has become my sounding board in terms of not only work, but a man’s perspective on things I deal with as a mother.

I was recently faced with a work opportunity that had me panicked for a minute and he was my first call.  He is smart and wise, with a brilliant mind for business and unnerving clarity about who I am as a human being.  We have different worldviews, but he is helping to redefine mine.

We have not known each other long but our connection is undeniable.  It is also unexpected which makes it scary.  I have been looking for someone for a long time and when that person might actually be real, it knocks you on your ass.  I have now officially been knocked on my ass.

Daniel and I are dating. We have not had any discussions about being exclusive, or removing our profiles from JDate.  We are simply having a good time together, getting to know each other, and enjoying the company of one another.  It’s all very grown up and civilized, which feels good.

Sidebar:  The truth is I want him to be my boyfriend, I want us off of JDate, and I want to think of him as mine.  I would never say that of course because I am cool and playing the dating game.  That said, I suck at the dating game as you all know, so I’m more pathetic than cool.

I’m not sure if I want him to be my boyfriend because I’m there with him, or because it will make me feel better about having introduced my son to a boyfriend over a man I am simply dating.  I suppose that is the real struggle when dating with children.  It’s quite complicated.

Making it worse is the fact that I write a blog about my life.  He will read this and either think I am passive aggressively asking him to be my boyfriend, overstepping boundaries in terms of his family, or simply a brave and lovely girl who likes him. Dating sucks.

Daniel called me on Friday to say that he’d like me to meet his kids.  His oldest daughter is in town for a visit from university, so it was very sweet that he wanted to share his limited time with her.  It was nice, and that he wanted me to meet them this early was quite surprising.

Daniel is not like anyone I have ever dated.  I am thinking outside the box on this one and so rather than think about it too much and talk myself out of it, I agreed to dinner and we planned for me and my son to meet up with him and the girls.  Everyone would like each other, and it would be fine.

Meeting kids, particularly when they are older, is really hard.  They are old enough to form opinions about you, and you of them.  Everyone loves a little kid because you can teach them to like you, but with an older child, you are on your own.  They like you or they don’t, and if not, it’s over.

If my son met someone I dated and told me he did not like him, I would be done.  That’s just how I role.  Because of that feeling, I felt sick all day Saturday.  My stomach was upset and I felt nervous.  I was certain everyone would love my kid, but would they like me too?

They are daughters, close with their dad, and I’m sure protective of their mother as my son is of me.  I wanted them to like me because I like their dad so much, and while I know I am fabulous, I was worried all day.  I changed my outfit 5 times.  I was absolutely ridiculous.

At dinner I was greeted with a hug by both girls and it took all my strength to not cry.  I cry at everything, but this was special.  I really like these girls.  They are interesting human beings and seeing young people develop their own worldviews is fascinating to me.

The older daughter is very open.  She thinks about things, has a generous spirit, and an inquisitive mind.  She is finding her way and to hear her talk about her future is exciting.  She is the type of person I gravitate to because she can teach me things.  Her future is very bright.

The younger one is an observer and I found myself wanting to get up during dinner to hug her.  She sits back and takes everything in.  She looks at her sister with adoring eyes, and tolerates her father’s jokes with a smile that is heartfelt.  The are both artistic, kind, warm, and very pretty.

To sit with Daniel and watch our kids talking and laughing made me happy. You can tell a lot about someone by how they are with their children and from that perspective, this is a wonderful man.  Seeing him with my son makes my heart flutter.  Daniel is good, and I have a crush on him.

We had a lovely time together.  It was comfortable and safe, so in the end my nervousness was unfounded.  There was never any need to stress out about dinner.  We both have mature and wonderful children, we are grown ups, and this was a natural step in dating at our ages.

I’m not one to plan out the future, but I am a dreamer.  I dream about how I will spend my lottery winnings.  I dream about the next stage of my career. I dream about dancing at my son’s wedding.  I dream about a world where there is no hate.  I don’t plan for these things, just dream about them.

My relationship with Daniel will now be something I dream about.  I am invested in a new way.  Our families have connected and so it changes how we date.  There is a level of intimacy that comes with involving children into your dating life that I was not sure I wanted, but I welcome.

I do not live my life with expectations.  I do however live my life with hope. I hope things continue with Daniel, and to be honest, I do have some expectations.  I expect his choice in taking this step was genuine and he will protect my heart now that we have taken this leap.

There are no guarantees in life, but there is hope, and that feels good.  Love is possible today.  Not only for me, but for all of you who are searching for it.  I have hope for us all.  I am happy. I am nervous.  I am skeptical.  I am hopeful. I am keeping the faith.

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April 12, 2012 | 4:27 pm

Mel Gibson Needs a Jewish Mother

Posted by Ilana Angel

I am a writer, a Jew, a mother and a fan of Mel Gibson.  I may in fact be his only remaining Jewish fan, but to be clear, my adoration of him is as an actor not a human being.  I have written about him a few times and was planning to write about him again today, when I decided it would be better to write to him instead of about him.  If there were ever anyone in need of a good Jewish mother to guide them along, it is Mel Gibson.

Mr. Gibson, it’s time to stop talking.  Shhhh.  Just listen because I am going to tell you things and it’s important you pay attention.  You have systematically ruined your career and reputation, and while I understand you are a multi-millionaire and probably don’t care, you are also a man with an ego and a heart, so it has got to hurt that people are openly discussing how much they hate you.  This is not the legacy you want to leave to your kids. (I’m guessing that you have a heart.)

I understand that people say things they don’t mean when they are drunk.  I certainly have.  I also understand that people say things they don’t mean when they are mad.  I’m guilty of that too.  What you don’t seem to understand is that alcohol makes us honest, and anger allows us to speak from our heart. Knowing this, as most intelligent people do, makes you not a very nice man. You clearly have issues with Jews and with women, so let’s hash it out.  I’ll talk, you listen.

You clearly are angry with the mother of your youngest child and to be honest, I get it.  I am of the opinion that she was with you for money not love, however, that does not mean you can disrespect her like you do.  Even if she is stupid, a bitch, and a whore, which she may be, you cannot threaten her.  She is the mother of your child and if you love that baby, you must be kind to her.  Hate her privately but respect her publicly for your young daughter.

Your hatred of her is palpable and when you threaten to kill her, or call her horrific names, it makes you look crazy.  We all have opinions about her and how she handled herself, but any hurtful things she has done look kind and normal compared to your craziness.  I have issues with a man ever hitting a woman or humiliating her.  You have done both, which is enough for me to think you are a douchelord, and we’ve not even talked about Jews yet.

You have daughters Mel.  How would you feel if a man ever said to one of your girls what you have said to this woman?  You would lose your mind.  You need to start conducting yourself in a way that takes the feelings of your children into consideration.  You are functioning as if you are the only person who matters, which is sad because you are being unkind to yourself, and right now you need to be careful because you may be the only person who likes you.

Sidebar: If you were with me right now, this is the part of our chat where I bring out the food.  I tell you that I feel bad for you that nobody is taking care of you, mention that you look thin and need to eat something, then pull out a spread. Jewish mothers are all about food.  We feed our children and our guests.  You clearly know nothing about Jews so just trust me when I say you must eat what I give you, tell me it’s the best thing you’re ever had, then ask for more.

I am of the belief that parents teach their children hate.  This belief allows me to cut you some slack in your open and unrelenting attack on my faith.  Your father is, for lack of a better word, a nightmare.  His view of Jews and the Holocaust are not worth mentioning, but this is how he thinks, and has taught you the same.  If you were a child I could understand your blind faith towards his teachings, but you are a man and you need to stop buying his crap.

You have decided to hate an entire group of people.  There are good Jews, and bad Jews, but they are not good or bad because they are Jewish.  Bernie Madoff was bad because he’s an asshole.  Steven Spielberg is good because he is decent.  I am Jewish and I am lovely.  I love my faith and while I am always proud to be Jewish, your actions sometimes make me want to be quiet in terms of my faith.  That said, not today.  Today you have pissed me off and I have things to say.

The movie you are planning about The Maccabees is what caused your latest decent into hell. You have denied that you spoke such vile words, but come on Mel, there is truth to the letter from Joe Eszterhas.  You may not have said exactly what he is accusing you of, but you said something, and it was not good.  You are angry and you hate Jews.  We all get it.  Denying it won’t help.  Saying you are sorry won’t help either.  What you need is compassion and a lesson in tolerance.

To be clear, your words, even if not quoted exactly, are unacceptable.  You don’t know me, but you hate me.  You hate my child, who I will have you know is a divine human being.  You hate my faith, which has molded and guided me.  You hate me because I am a woman and women have hurt you.  Sadly the person you hate the most is you.  Or perhaps it is God you are mad at.  My heart and my God tell me to not hate you.  That said, you are an ass and I want to smack you.

By smack of course I mean punch you in the face.  I never would of course, partly because I am a lady, and partly because you scare the crap out of me.  I have seen many of your films and actually quote Braveheart on occasion.  You are talented and gorgeous and ugly and disgusting.  All the money in the world can’t protect you from your true self and when you go to bed at night and have to listen to voices that guide you, is when I feel most sorry for you.  You must be lonely.

Sidebar: At this point in our chat is when I start crying.  I cry for you and your ignorance.  I cry for me and my blind hope.  I cry for my son and the world of hate he lives in, and I cry for my faith, which is the core of my strength and the cause of so much hate.  I look pretty when I cry so you will want to reach out to comfort me, then won’t because I am a Jew and also because if you touch me I will leave a footprint on your groin.  Instead you’ll just pass me a tissue.

Lots of people hate Jews.  It does not make you special.  It does however make you a moron.  Your public displays of hate are fascinating.  Is it a childhood desire to impress your dad?  Is it a vicious way to seek attention?  Or is it as simple as you simply hate Jews?  Be a man and come clean Mel.  You owe me the truth.  Why? Because right now I am your Jewish mother and I demand to know the truth.  I am reaching out my hand and you should grab it.

I tweeted today that I was writing about you and the responses were fast and furious.  You are not a very popular man Mel.  In fact, you are barely tolerated. You are also an easy target.  It is easy to blame you for everything bad in the world because you have shown yourself to be evil on a lot of levels.  You intimidate me. You make me nervous because you are unstable.  It is important to have beliefs, and you are a man who has faith, but your faith is dangerous.

I am not going to judge how you choose to worship.  I am also not that interested in your judgment of how I worship.  I am willing however to have faith in you.  Faith that you can turn this around.  To be clear, you can’t turn around what you have done, but you can turn around my opinion of you.  I should matter to you.  I am a woman. I am Jewish.  I am a mother.  I am a fan of your work.  I am a human being who is not ready to discard you.  That is why I matter.

I would like to ask you questions and in return will answer yours.  I want you to show me that in a world driven by hate, there is still hope that a man who has entertained me and made my heart flutter, can be decent and not the evil monster people say he is.  It’s silly I suppose, and many will think I am being too kind to a man who does not deserve it, but in the end I am a Jew and my faith allows me to believe.  I believe in you Mel Gibson.

Important to note that when I say I believe in you, I am speaking about your humanity.  You are mean spirited, hateful, hurtful, violent, and scary.  However, you are also a father, a friend, a son and a man worthy of compassion.  You need a Jewish mother and so I can be that for you.  I’m not aiming to hurt you, or write a scathing article about how horrific you are, but rather just a Jewish woman who wants to understand why you hate me like you do.

I will allow your voice to be heard and in exchange maybe you can ease some of my worry about a world that scares me.  I invite you to sit down with me for a chat. I will listen.  I will think.  I will share.  I will trust.  Just you and me Mel.  Well, you, me and a security guard.  I’m brave but not stupid.  I invite you to be brave too. Perhaps time with a nice Jewish girl will give you a minute of peace, a chance to catch your breath, and permit you to rethink how you keep the faith.

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April 11, 2012 | 12:07 am

Jon Lovitz, Crime Fighter!

Posted by Ilana Angel

Last week three teenage girls admitted they drew swastikas, the word Jew, and put crap on the front walkway of the home of a fellow student. They go to school with the girl who lives in the house and they decided to play a prank on her.  Important to note that the girl who lives in the house is the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors.

What I find so upsetting is that the police said it was not a hate crime because none of the damage was permanent and could all be washed away. Really?  Can the fear and humiliation of the young girl who lives in the house be washed away too?  The police said it was “an unfortunate incident” not a hate crime.  I am offended by that.  This was about hate.

This may have been a story that disappeared quickly were it not for a celebrity connection.  It turns out the father of the girl who was pranked is a childhood friend of comedian Jon Lovitz, and Lovitz is pissed off.  He was disgusted by what happened and quickly took to Twitter to talk about it. Thanks to Lovitz, this story is not going away.

Lovitz tweeted: “Some coward & idiot left this on a friend’s doorstep, yesterday. This is an insult to all of us.” He included a picture of the damage. He also tweeted a picture of the 3 girls who committed the crime and wrote: “The 3 girls who are bullying my friend’s daughter. They want to be known. Let them be famous as Jew haters.“

I am going to refer to it as a crime because that is what it was.  Lovitz used Twitter to bring attention to what happened and followed up with this tweet: “UPDATE!!!! The three girls who vandalized my friends home with swastikas and dog crap have been expelled from their school permanently.”  I’m sure his tweets had a hand in the expulsion.

The surprising twist to this story is that they where driven to the house by one of their mothers.  She took them in the middle of the night so they could do their little “prank”.  A mother.  A grown up.  A woman who thought it was okay for her daughter to carry out an act of hate.  I hope her name is released so she is humiliated in front of the world.

It turns out the mother who drove the rotten little girls to the house could be charged for driving them.  If that happens her name will be released and she could face a $1000 fine and/or a year in jail for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. I personally hope she is charged so she is forever labeled an idiot, just like her child.

I am very angry.  As parents it is our job to raise our children to be decent human beings.  What the hell is this woman thinking to drive them over and encourage this behavior?  It is hate.  It is bullying.  It is unacceptable.  It is something these girls, regardless of youth, should be held accountable for. Expulsion does not seen like enough.

We live in a dangerous world driven by hate and it’s a shame because we are supposed to be decent and kind.  Religion tears us apart, yet God asks us to love each other.  How can I sleep at night when I worry all day about the world in which I am raising my child?  I am heartbroken about this story and want these girls to be punished.

What does it say about me that I want these children to be charged?  It doesn’t make me particularly decent or kind, but it’s just too much.  I am raising my son to be proud of his faith and the history of our people, but at the same time I am scared for him because being Jewish is enough of a reason for someone to hate him in this world.

I am proud of Mr. Lovitz for not being afraid to stand up for his friend, for what was right, and for Jews.  His actions matter. We live in a world where kids are shot while out to get Skittles, and you can commit a hate crime and not be held accountable.  It’s sad, wrong, and scary.  Jon Lovitz stood up for all of us, and loudly proclaimed that we must keep the faith.

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April 9, 2012 | 9:48 pm

A Nightmare 16 Years In The Making

Posted by Ilana Angel

It has been a very interesting weekend.  By interesting of course I mean stressful, sad, and frightening.  It was Passover, which was wonderful.  It was my birthday, which was wonderful.  It was also the first time my son took the car out on his own, which was wonderful for him, but sad for me. To be clear, I was painfully proud of him, but also very, very sad.

I am simply not prepared for the emotions of his growing up and taking a step into adulthood.  I have been preparing for this day for 16 years and the fact is, I am not ready.  My entire life is wrapped around this child and I don’t know what I will do when he goes to college and is not living with me. My heart soars with pride and aches with fear, which is unsettling.

This child is the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about when I go to bed.  He is the great love of my life and there is nothing I would not do in order to make his life better.  His happiness and health are all I have been focused on for 16 years and I do not know how I will manage when he leaves our home.

I have been spending a lot of time with a gentleman friend we’ll call “Daniel”. (That’s #2 for those of you have been following the story.)  He is the father of two daughters, one of which has already gone off to college in another city.  He is a wonderful and connected father so he understands my fear, but is encouraging me to be brave and start letting him go.

I was with Daniel when my boy called to say he was taking the car out on his own, and I think I stopped breathing.  I wanted him to wait until I got home, but Daniel said I needed to allow him the freedom to be a responsible kid instead of making him wait for me, which would have made him a child needing supervision instead of a young adult growing up.

I respect Daniel as a man and a father, but I am convinced nobody can ever understand how much I love my child.  I am certain I love him more than any other parent loves their child.  I was going to not listen to him, but he assured me it would be fine and in the end I let my son go out on his own.  He called 20 minutes later to let me know he was home and safe.

I felt a relief that is indescribable and it made me cry.  I cried because I let him go, cried because he was fine, and cried because I had allowed myself to lean on someone else in terms of my job as a mother.  I have raised him alone and to have back up from Daniel was liberating and exhausting.  Daniel was my friend and guide, and it really mattered.

I don’t know how parents manage when their children have one foot out the door.  Daniel has been through it once and bless his heart because he will face it again in a couple of years.  Daniel loves his children so when I tell him it’s hard for me and he tells me he understands, he actually does.  Being a parent is a blessing, and really hard, but he knows.

My son is an amazing human being.  I know this to be true because it is what I raised him to be.  I would be doing a disservice to all my hard work if I did not now trust him after I have taught him to be so responsible.  He deserves not only love, but my trust and respect.  Instead of focusing on his one foot out the door, I need to embrace the one that is still in.

I had an interesting weekend. By interesting of course I mean exciting, happy, and joyous.  I was able to be a grown up while allowing my son to practice being a grown up.  Daniel made me laugh, eased my worry, and made me flutter.  My son took a giant step towards independence and proved to me that I have been doing a good job as a mother.

I am sure I will cry each and every time my son takes the car out by himself. When he gets his own car, I will be bedridden with fear and anxiety.  I have been terrified of this time for 16 years, but in the end I need to replace my fear with pride.  He is a good boy.  I am a good mother. We will get through these times if we trust, breathe and keep the faith.

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April 7, 2012 | 12:07 pm

What Do You See?

Posted by Ilana Angel

It has always been interesting to me how I can look at something and see one thing, and someone else will look at the same thing and see something completely different.  Perception and interpretation are fascinating to me.  I have a very specific worldview.  It is guided by my faith, my open heart, and by being a mother.  People can agree on things but still not see things exactly the same, which I love.  I recently saw a picture that made me think.

A young photographer named Alex Fortag took this photograph, and when I saw this woman I was drawn to her.  I am attracted to people with stories, and this woman clearly has stories to tell.  Her body had the appearance of an elephant from the mud, and I could not tell if she was happy or sad.  I love that she is wearing lipstick, and when I looked into her crystal blue eyes I wanted to hear all of her stories.  I am very curious about her.

The photographer had this to say about her subject:

A true San Franciscan, Carol Shulz began her love affair with the Pacific Ocean when Joplin lived on Haight, and remains deeply enamored with the arduous sea a half century later.  The five mile bike ride she makes daily to her Mecca, Fort Funston, takes her past familiar monuments, both structural and human, that have been there for decades. Carol Shulz’s zest for life is infectious, and she refers to her daily body surfing ritual as “free electroshock therapy”. In a serendipitous meeting, I was fortunate enough to cross paths with the 79 year old woman who has been crowned San Francisco’s “Queen of Ocean Beach”.

To be honest, when I first looked at Ms. Shulz I was a little frightened by her. When I read her story however, I found myself in awe.  This woman is 79 years old and she is living her life out loud and with no fear.  She embraces her worldview and I am envious of that.  She rides her bike, gets in the ocean, becomes one with the earth, and I imagine that it cleanses her soul of fear and bitterness.  What a remarkable way to live a life.

I wish I was as brave as Ms. Shulz.  I am trusting of people yet not particularly trusting of myself.  That seems to be in stark contrast to her, as she strikes me as someone who has full trust in herself, but may be weary of others.  I would like to meet her one day. I would like to ride with her to the sea, cover myself in the earth, and wash it away in the ocean with the prayer that some of my fear and sorrow will wash off with the mud.

This picture has had an impact on me.  As human beings I think we have an obligation to each other to look a little closer at things.  If we could just take a minute to not judge each other at first glance, it would be a kinder world wouldn’t it?  Today is my birthday and with this new year I hope to be brave like Ms. Shulz.  Life is a blessing and I owe it to myself to view things with grace.  I’ll be able to do that if I keep the faith.

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April 6, 2012 | 8:47 am

Happy Passover, Happy Easter, Happy Faith

Posted by Ilana Angel

This weekend marks an important time for people of many faiths.  It is Passover and also Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  I am someone whose life is made easier with faith.  I’m also one that does not judge people based on faith.  The way I see it, faith allows us to lean on something bigger than ourselves, and if it gives us peace, then what the higher power is does not matter.  Faith is beautiful and not about religion.

I hope that the people who celebrate the holidays of this weekend find peace within their faith.  For me, the weekend is about prayer.  Prayers of thanks for my Jewish life, prayers of thanks for my blessed life, and prayers of thanks for the health and happiness of my family and friends. Regardless of faith, this weekend involves a lot of food.  From Seder to Easter dinner, we are going to be eating lots of fabulous and delicious food.

Take time this weekend to be kind to a stranger.  Share your blessings with people in need, and let your faith inspire you to be light to someone in the dark.  Listen to a child laugh, reach out to someone you miss, ease someone’s sorrow, reflect on your struggles, make a new plan, love someone, be aware, be happy, cry tears of joy, hug like you mean it, and dance even if there is no music.  Enjoy the weekend. Celebrate, reflect, and keep the faith.

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April 5, 2012 | 11:59 am

A Drivers License For Him & No Sleep for Me

Posted by Ilana Angel

My son received his California Drivers License today.  April 5th, 2012 will forever be known as the day I stopped sleeping.  We went out for breakfast to celebrate, came home, and 10 minutes later be borrowed the car.  He left 5 minutes ago to go to the mall, all by himself, and I cannot stop crying.  I have loved this boy from the time I was a little girl.  I used to dream about him when I was a child, and being his mother has been my wish for as long as I can remember.  Today I have been his mom for 5918 days, yet it feels like he was just born yesterday.  I have loved every single minute of being this remarkable human beings mother.

I did not cry until after he left, and I am proud of myself for that.  I like to think he has no idea exactly how crazy I am, even though I know he is very clear of the level of my insanity.  Before he left I made him go to the bathroom so he would not be distracted.  He laughed, obliged, and gave me the look.  A look that let me know he is painfully clear of how crazy his mother is, yet also let me know he loved me and knew this was hard for his mom. He assured me he would be careful, gave me a hug, told me not to worry, and he left just as my chin began to quiver.

He is a good driver.  I believe he is ready and will be just fine.  It’s all the other people on the road that freak me out.  I have seen driving, even here in our sweet little neighborhood, that makes me want to get out of my car and punch people in the face.  California is the land of really bad drivers.  I worry every time he left the house before he got his license, but now it will be just a little bit scarier.  For every prayer he had waiting for this day to come quickly, I had the same prayer hoping it would come slowly.  It is a defining moment for him as a young adult, and also for me as his mother.

When our children are babies, we wait for them to walk, then pray they will sit down.  We pray for them to talk, then wish they would be quiet.  We pray they will drive so the schlepping can stop, then wish they failed their test and we could schlep them for just a little longer.  I am working, he is on spring break, and I would have dropped everything to drive him to the mall today.  My schlepping has been replaced with waiting. Waiting for the call he has arrived safely, and for the sound of the car pulling into the driveway.

I remember his first kick in my stomach, the first time I heard his heartbeat, and the first time I saw his perfect little face.  I remember the first time he told me loved me.  I remember when he packed all his favorite things and ran away because I would not make him macaroni and cheese for lunch.  I remember the first time he went to the movies without me and called me to tell me not to worry.  I remember his first love and his first heartache. Now I will remember the first time he took the car out on his own.  Each first is a blessing.  I am in love with him, proud of him, and keeping the faith.

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