?In 1974, Harry Chapin recorded a poignant and meaningful song entitled, “Cat’s in the Cradle.” The song speaks of a boy who longs for attention from his father throughout his childhood, but “there were planes to catch and bills to pay,” and dad repeatedly says, “we’ll get together another day.” The years fly by, dad ages and longs to have time with his son. But, by then, his son is grown and has “planes to catch and bills to pay.”

?In 1977, in Long Beach, California, I met a saintly Lubavitcher chasid named Menachem Mendel Futerfas. Active at age 70, he was fundraising for Kfar Chabad in Israel. He was born in London in 1907, prior to the Bolshevik revolution of 1917. For many years, he ran underground cheders in Russia during the darkest days of Soviet oppression. When the Soviets eventually learned of his efforts, they tortured and imprisoned him for 14 years. Reb Mendel, as he was known, was also responsible for repatriating thousands of Jewish Polish refugees after World War II.

The older I get, the more grateful I am to Hashem for what I have – and for what I don’t have.

To have wonderful children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren is to be truly blessed. Being able to interact with and know them is even more special. Many of us have a natural tendency to take blessings for granted, which, unfortunately, seems to be human nature. It is therefore good to be reminded to “count our blessings,” which is one of the reasons we recite the Modim (thanksgiving) prayer five times daily – three times privately and twice publicly.

With Elul and slichos upon us, it is with trepidation that we begin to evaluate the events of the past year. It is always easier to analyze the actions of others then to focus on ourselves. Nevertheless, there is no question that outside influences can directly affect us and create anxiety. These days, simply reading a newspaper or listening to the news may make us wonder if we are living in a parallel universe. It seems that much of the world has gone mad and that the United States, which is now absent of coherent leadership, is rudderless and descending into moral chaos. One wonders if the voices of sanity and reason will be able to survive the morally corrupt “woke” who seem to be holding (the mostly silent) majority hostage.

Pre-Covid seems like such a long time ago. In reality, it has only been just over two-and-a-half years since the world was so much more stable and seemingly normal. These days, it’s quite hard to remember what normal felt like. We are living in such bizarre and unsettling times.

Ever since my teens, I’ve always had a sense of foreboding as we entered the three weeks of mourning for the Beis Hamikdash. That feeling would intensify from Rosh Chodesh Av through Tisha b’Av. Then, after Shabbos Nachamu, my mood would improve, and I returned to enjoying summer. This year the feelings of foreboding started many months before Shiva Asar B’Tamuz.

Seventeen years ago, in late May of 2005, I was invited to join a rabbinic mission to Germany. The invitation was extended by Zentralrat Der Juden (Central Council of Jews) and was paid for by the German government. The stated purpose of the visit was to see the positive growth of the Jewish communities in Germany 50 years after World War II. My dad, who had fought with the first American infantry units to enter Germany in March of 1945 was still alive and well then. When I told him that I was planning to go to Germany, his reaction was less than positive. For my dad, and for many of his generation, anything associated with Germany was extremely distasteful. I explained that I was going on behalf of the Jews. Nevertheless, he had difficulty with any type of contact with Germany.