I feel like reading the news is like stepping into an emotional minefield. The headline often seems innocuous enough, but once I've plunged in and it's too late, the content is so horrifying as to make me cringe. This was the case last night, when I clicked on a CNN link about a woman who had been rescued from an icy river last December who is now being charged in the gruesome deaths of her children. I will spare you the details that CNN did not spare me.

If there were one thing I would request of news agencies like CNN, it would be ratings. There are movie ratings that warn would-be viewers of inappropriate content; I propose the same kind of warning on news articles. That way I'm not subjected to gory details that are so horrifying I have to consciously build a wall in my mind to close off the pain.

I guess this is why they say no news is good news!

Called "Emergency Room" on the Aish.com homepage. That was a real scare...'Nuf said.

My community awoke this morning to the conspicuous addition of flyers, taped to nearly every tree along the streets, declaring that Rav Elyashiv has said that sheitel-wearing is assur. As reported by my husband who actually took the time to read these signs, one man asked Rav Elyashiv if he should divorce his wife for wearing her sheitel, to which the Gadol replied, "Don't divorce her, but try to convince her to stop."

I don't know about you but I don't generally take my hashkafos (outlook) from trees. I understand the intent of making a public service announcement and inviting the community to rethink the habit of sheitel-wearing. But I also really offer a prayer of thanks to Hashem that I am blessed with a Rav who I can speak to about sheitels (if I dare!).

Although this post was intended to be a slice-of-life look at tree posters and castigated sheitel wearers, I guess I may as well put in a plug for da'as Torah. Tonight, I had the opportunity to avail myself of the brilliance and clarity of the Rav of our neighborhood. I wasn't asking a halachic question; rather, I was asking him advice on a business proposition. His erudition in every matter is astonishing. I cannot help but laugh (or cry) at those individuals who bitterly denounce our sages as incapable of giving direction in areas other than strictly Torah matters. Torah is the foundation of all existence; those who are immersed in it to the point where they have achieved a certain sublime unity with Torah bring that sparkling truth and incisive, God-like perspective to any issue, be it finances, politics, or what have you. A rag saturated with water will wet anything and everything around it, whether it's a counter that needs cleaning or a homework paper that would not conventionally be wiped with a rag.

I think I admire the people who spent time and money printing up those fliers and faithfully stapling them to the trees even if I disagree with their point of view.

Last night I was interviewing a mental  health professional for an article I'm working on--a major feature article which cracks open a delicate and difficult subject...a subject no one really wants to openly talk about...something "can of wormsish...are you curious yet? I think I'm supposed to keep a lid on things that haven't yet come out so you'll have to wait to see for yourself.

Anyway, this person, very intelligent and highly trained, proposed a theory which struck me with force. What this person said was, "Today's kids are trying to escape their problems and not have to deal with their feelings. Why? Because we (parents) are simply not raising our kids for greatness. Look at the personalities in Tanach, in the Gemara. These people were poets, astronomers, physicians, along with being erudite scholars. They were complex, they were great. Jews are intended for greatness. We are not meant to be average. Yet today's parent is obssessed with their child being 'normal', 'regular', 'fitting in'."

Hmmmmm.... Deep breath.

I dunno. On one side you have the parents complaining that their children, nebbach, aren't geniuses ("To be honest, his IQ is only average, but don't tell the shadchanim; and anyway, those IQ tests don't mean a single thing--he was walking by five months!"), and on the other side you have people clamoring for more greatness in kids, blaming society's ills on the untapped potential we parents fail to encourage in our children. And then you have the kids who end up in therapy, complaining about how their parents always demanded they push themselves to an infinite limit so they lived their childhood always feeling they didn't measure up.

And I wonder to myself: how would a parent, theoretically, raise a child "to greatness", enabling that child to harness his or her creativity without being stifled? Is this potential for greatness truly the responsibility and capability of parents? Could it be, also, school-dependent? Society-dependent? As a kid in Bais Yaakov, when I read the classics, pored over books on Einstein's Theory of Relativity, and expressed a great thirst for knowledge and an aching desire to write, many of those around me did not see this is as a "sign of greatness" to put it mildly :-).

It sounds delicious to raise kids to discover their own innate abilities and allow them to take those abilities to whatever heights they chose, nurturing them in every which way. But, tachlis, how does that happen? What if the parent doesn't have money for violin lessons, chess lessons, art lessons, and a private trigonometry teacher? How much is intrinsic and how much is extrinsic?

What if today's adolescent escape problems don't stem from their frustrated, foiled potential? What other underlying cause might be at play? And who takes the blame?

So I often get stopped by people who read my stuff and find out that I'm the Riva Pomerantz who writes. And it's a funny thing, really, because very often they'll say, "YOU'RE Riva Pomerantz?! You're so...normal!" A friend of mine told me she had a guest over for Shabbos and they must have been talking about my serial, Green Fences, when this guest said, "You'll never believe it. I MET Riva Pomerantz, at the grocery store, and guess what! She's NORMAL! She's actually really nice."

Now, I don't know about you, but I have mixed feelings on this. Basically, I'm wondering about the implied belief that people with any sort of name recognition are expected to be anything less than "normal". Like, if you get published does your laundry suddenly disappear? (Or are we writers supposed to be making so much money that we can afford full-time, live-in help!) Do our kids magically stop having tantrums, and our dishes get washed and put away by themselves? (Major disclosure here, folks: At risk of revoking my "normal" status to descend to "sub-normal", I will bravely reveal here the highly personal, unabashed truth: I have no dishwasher! GASP! Are you sure you still want to read my stuff?)

So after I ponder whether a modicum of fame must needs banish one's normalcy, I'm on to the next dragon: Is it okay to be NICE when you're a published writer? Like why the shock that I'm "ACTUALLY NICE"?! Is it bad for my image? Should I be stuck-up, arrogant, condescending? Will that conjure up more of a mystique, of exquisite exclusiveness and propel me into a class of my own? Is it jarring to readers to find me smiling, shmoozing, and asking them what they're making tonight for supper? I asked my husband if, in the name of career, he thinks I should actively work on becoming a snob. He doesn't think so. ;-) Shucks. It would be so much more fun to devote myself to working on being snobby than avodas ha-middos (self-improvement) in the other areas, y'know, like judging favorably, avoiding anger and selfishness--type of thing! What a wise husband I have :-).

To blog, or not to blog? That is the question.

I have decided to stop dwelling in the question and just start blogging and see where I end up. My vision for this blog (every blog needs a vision, don't you think?!) is to make it something interesting, a potpourri, if you will, of insights, thoughts, musings, and maybe even the occasional einfald (brilliant epiphany). Spiced generously with humor and a touch of sarcasm to make sure I don't take myself too seriously, this blog is best served warm.

If I didn't write for a living, I would write for a living. I think I have thunk it through and that is my conclusion. Writing has always been more than a parnassah--its a passion, a journey into self. I journal regularly; it helps me get clarity, connect to Hashem (God), and sort things out that are troubling me. As I write, the words pave a path for my mind and heart to dance across, alleviating tension, worry, and fear. When I journal, I most often end off with a tefillah (prayer). I am grateful that my work is so closely aligned with my love and my mission. Write on!