Challa

From time to time, I take the opportunity to show the world what I've been doing, by making a post on FaceBook. Each time I post about Challas I am making, I get quite a bit of feedback, and have come to the realization that a gift I received growing up was my Grandmother Sadie. I simply new her as Grandma, though initially called her nana. I was fortunate to have two grandmothers, Mamie lived to 105 but Sadie passed at 80. The gift Grandma Sadie gave me is the appreciation of good food, and food prepared well. While I'm sure I'll write another post about this topic, the one that links good food, Challas, and FaceBook stems from a story that is worth sharing for the rest of the world.

I come from a long line of bakers, in particular, a member of the Schwebel family, who owns and operates one of the largest, still family owned, baking companies in America, Schwebel Baking Company (). The website has the story of how the company started, but my grandma was the one that taught me how to bake, and her close friends, how to refine it. One of the more important aspects of a good chef, is someone always willing to learn; according to my grandma. And I agree. Do not think that my grandma gave me everything I needed to know on baking; she didn't. But her appreciation for food prepared well and willingness to learn were the greatest gifts I received in this aspect of life.

So the story I'm about to tell begins with my grandma, her friends instructions, a piece on the food network on baking good bread, some tips from a dear friend Florence Gussman, and Mike Monigan who was a plant manager for Schwebel Baking company years ago. The story begins when I had a desire to begin making Challas for the sabbath, or for my Jewish family, Shabbat, when I was about 20 years old. I was looking at the Rodef Shalom Jubilee Cookbook for a recipe, and found one by S. Waldman. When I read the ingredients I was shocked to find it included milk! For those that are not Jewish, Challa bread is to be made with ingredients that would allow it to be eaten with both milk meals and meat meals, but not both milk and meat at the same meal. How in the world could you eat bread made with milk at a meat meal? It's not allowed by Kosher law. So when I asked my grandma, she too became puzzled. Then she asked who submitted the recipe to Jubilee. I told her someone named Waldman.

My grandma went on to tell me that S. Waldman, was Sonny Waldman - Sonya. Sonny was originally Sonya Marx, and her sister was Anne Marx who was one of my grandmother's dear friends. I knew her as Aunt Anne Zoss, or just Aunt Anne. Both Aunt Anne and Sonya had escaped the Holocaust when their family immigrated to the US. Several years before the encounter with Sonny's recipe, Aunt Anne had taught me how to knead bread, both in a bowl for kuchen, and on a board for other kneaded pastries. So my grandma asked me to get her phone number and she'd call. I did, and gramdma called. They both spoke briefly about the recipe, the issue of milk, and as usual, all I heard grandma say was huh-huh. You just never knew what was being said on the other end of the phone. Then my grandma handed me the handset and Mrs. Waldman and I spoke.

The first thing Mrs. Waldman said to me, as I called her Mrs. Waldman, was to call her Sonny. I said yes Mrs. Waldman. When I asked Sonny about the recipe and the milk, she said to me that the editors of the Jubilee attributed the recipe to her, but in fact was not her recipe. She knew very well that there was no way milk could be in that bread. Then I told her what I wanted to do and she seemed puzzled. She asked if Schwebel's still makes Challas, and I said they did, but I wanted to make my own. Besides, the bread made by the bakery seemed too airy or fluffy. So Sonny said to me that she would only give me her recipe if I promised to make the bread by hand. It seemed like a reasonable request at the time, and I agreed.

Sonny asked me if I had a large bowl. I asked how large, and she said really large. She said that Sears had these really large ceramic bowls, and suggested I get one. I said I'd get one, did, and have it to this day; it sits on top of my refrigerator as a reminder of this day. Then she began to tell me the recipe. The ingredients are the following:

• 8 cups bread flour
• 2 cups tepid warm water
• 2 pkgs. of active dry yeast - 4.5 tsp
• 1/2 cup sugar (Sonny's used 1/3 cup) plus 1 tblsp
• 4 heaping tblsp vegetable shortening (or 1/3 cup canola oil)
• 1 tblsp kosher salt
• 5 eggs (extra large or jumbo)
• 1/4 cup of cornmeal

As Sonny explained it to me, you get your large bowl, and fill it with 5 cups of flour. In the middle of the flour, dig a well that goes almost to the bottom, but not to the bottom, pushing the flour to the sides evenly. In a small container, put the yeast and 1 tblsp of sugar. Add 1/2 cup of warm tepid water, and stir the mixture to dissolve the yeast. Add that to the well in the flour. Add another 1/2 cup of warm tepid water to the same container to clean out the remaining yeast/sugar and put in the well in the flour. From the sides of the bowl, bring the flour on top of the yeast/sugar mixture, covering it. Let that stand. In the mean time, pour the remaining sugar around the edge of the bowl, not on top where the yeast is now fermenting. Do the same with the shortening and the salt. (Not Sonny's method but one I use is to substitute canola oil for vegetable shortening, so I do not add the oil to the bowl, but I do add it to the next ingredient.) Beat 4 eggs in a small bowl, with a pinch of salt. Sonny said the salt will breakdown the egg whites. Sonny also reserved some egg for later, but I use an entirely 5th egg. Sonny said that when the yeast ferments it will push against the flour on top and eventually cracks will form in the flour and yeast will begin to ooze out. That's when it is ready to mix. Add the beaten eggs (eggs and oil if you are using my modification), and another full cup of tepid warm water.

Mix the dough and ingredients by hand until everything is mushy. Then, add flour, 1/2 cup at a time, and begin kneading. kneading should take about 10 minutes total, adding additional flour until the dough pulls away from your hands and begins to firmly become bread dough. Knead for another 4 minutes and then you are done. Again, the total kneading time should be about 10 minutes. (A side note, if you use a mixer, plan to use a bit more flour and only knead for 10 minutes). Keep the dough in the bowl, and place it in a warm location such as an oven at 100F. I have used a car outside during the day, which is quite warm in the sun. Let the dough rise an hour which should be double in size. Punch the dough down, remove it from the bowl and turn out onto a dry surface.

From this point, Sonny said to simply make the Challa. This is where my instruction as a youth from Rodef Shalom temple and the tips from Flo helped. Sprinkle cornmeal on a baking sheet about 20"x10" or larger. Divide the dough into 2 equal sized pieces. With one piece, divide it into 4 equal parts based on weight. For three of the pieces, roll them into thick, 12"-14" rolls (logs), and braid them. Place the braided dough on a floured surface, and use a knife to etch a 1/2" cut in the center top. Use your fingers with a dip in water to spread the cut apart, but not too wide and not too much water. With the last of the 4 pieces, cut it into 3 equal parts by weight, roll them out similarly but about 16" long. Braid them, and place the braid on top of the first braid, using your pinky finger to slightly push the smaller braid into the larger one at each of the dough cross-overs in the smaller braid. This will ensure it stays in place. Put the now formed Challa onto the baking sheet, leaving room for a second one. Repeat this process for the second Challa.

Let the Challa's rise in the oven for about 30 minutes at 100F. Take them out, beat the 5th egg in a small bowl with a pinch of salt, and coat the Challa's with the beaten egg. Place the Challa's back into the cold oven, set the temperature to 350F and bake for 35 minutes. Mike Monigan always said baking was time and temperature. So if you decided to preheat the oven because it takes more than 7 minutes to heat it, bake at 350F for 30 minutes. When the bread comes out, you'll need to let it cool for a few hours before eating. Shabbat Shalom!

At first I made these by hand. I did it routinely, particularly Friday afternoon when I had some time off from school or work. I made them for family functions, received rave reviews from Schwebel Aunts and Uncles about how good the bread was. Then, one day I received a call from my grandma that Sonny had passed away. I was heart broken because this amazing lady had given a gift to me, but I never met her. She lived in the same town, and side of town that my grandma lived, but we never seemed to connect our schedules. It's one of the very few regrets I have in life. When I returned from California where I was working at the time to see my parents and grandma, my grandma said that I needed to go to the Waldman's because there was something left for me. I called, and Mr. Waldman answered. He asked that I come when I can, because Sonny had left something for me. When I arrived at the small home, I was warmly greeted, and was taken to the kitchen. There, in the kitchen I was given her bowl, an orange colored bowl with a yellow stripe around the middle of the circumference. It was the same size and style of bowl I had in white, and cherish it always in my home.

So if you are so inclined to make Challa, and use this recipe, I ask the same I was asked to do; make it by hand at least the first time. Then you can truly appreciate what it means to have the warmth and love of Challa on Shabbat given to me from an angel.

Instilling Your Educational Values

Recently at my pharmacy, the RiteAid where I usually have prescriptions filled, one of my pharmacist friends told my daughter that to become a NASA engineer is no simple task. It takes a special breed of person to achieve that accomplishment. It struck me as odd that it takes a special person to become a NASA engineer because, working at NASA, I'm surrounded by individuals who indeed are all special. When you are one in a sea of many, you don't think of yourself as special. In fact, I still think I'm normal, but that difference is more than likely the source of tension in my life.

What I find normal, others seem to find extraordinary. A friend and colleague once told me that he is commonly asked, isn't his job boring. He said that sitting in front of a computer screen 8 to 10 hours a day, looking at numbers, writing computer programs, and making a graph from time to time is exciting to him because he is developing the latest technology in human evolution of knowledge to predict how well an aircraft or spacecraft will fly. The general person in the world looks at us as if we are strange for finding excitement in making a plot and looking at a few numbers. So the moral of his take on what others see us do, is that what we are doing looks boring because the outsider cannot understand exactly what we are doing. That's the beginning of understanding why we seem to think we are normal and others think we are weird.

Another recent life changing event brought fourth a crossing of G-d sent angels to my fiance, when I was confronted about something that stressed me into a state of shock. The event is not germane here, but the recognition that an angel was sent, is. Today, I had another angel come to me, out of the blue; and old colleague and former assistant branch head where I work at NASA. We discussed our family's dynamics, and in particular dealing with our children. It seems that parents in my workplace commonly discuss issues that arise from time to time to make sure they are doing the right thing. After all, we are all strange to the outside, but common inside NASA. This gentleman (angel) said that to become a NASA engineer, we took a path that was very different from everyone else.

The path we followed to NASA was characterized as socially inept acts, academically dominated thought, and deeply driven desires. Most of us knew before we made it to college what we wanted to do; we wanted to work for NASA. How we arrived has a path of similar traits including going to public libraries to study, studying instead of talking on the phone for hours at a time, attending intellectual events that contribute to our understanding of the world around us and our desires for what we want to do in life, and generally, setting the academic path that others find odd and in some cases insane. We made it to our destination and are proud of the path we took.

So when we marry, and work to have a family, parents typically try to instill their values on their children and possibly spouses, because we found through experience it can produce desirable results; achieving a dream. But is it fair to expect those we love to follow our footsteps? Is it too much of an expectation that if what works for us, will work for everyone? These questions are why this post is presented. The answers to these questions are no and yes. It is unfair to expect our children to follow our footsteps, and it is too much of an expectation that what we do will work for everyone.

Where this is headed is this; I want my daughter to get straight A's in her grades so that she can make it to college to get an education to do what she really wants to do for the rest of her life. But are all A's the only way to get there? Maybe, maybe not. My daughter currently strives to get straight A's and succeeds, but at what cost? What is difficult in general is to expect someone to work extremely hard to get good grades, and not get an A for their work. I've been told I'm placing too much stress on my daughter to get straight A's. My daughter has even commented that it is my desire that drives her. My colleague, the angel, said is as long as your child works hard, does not distract themselves from their work, and gets the best grade they can, then that is what will lead to their success; not an A grade. So as we go through life, it is important to remind ourselves that as long as we work hard to achieve what we want, and get the grades we get, we know deep down we did the best we could do, and that is all that should ever be expected. While I will not back off on wanting my daughter to continue to strive for the great grades she obtains, I plan to be more forgiving if she does her best and is not quite able to achieve the A that we both want.

A Different Movie With Age

When I was a child, I enjoyed watching various movies on television. There was the Wizard of Oz, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the Sound of Music, and of course Bugs Bunny. I note all of these for a very specific reason; as a child they are entertaining, but as an adult they are very different movies. Movies made to attract children have to have lots going on, very visually intensive, but dialog is not important. As an adult, the visual content of movies is nice, but dialog has to have some character or the movie is dismissed as an entertainment source for children. Each of the movies I list have both which to me suggests why they still have an attractive value.

For example, the Wizard of Oz as most know is about a teenaged farm girl that thinks no one understands her or appreciates her. So she goes looking for some adventure to fill that missing part in her life. She ends up with an incredible slam upside the head and has the hallucination of what we see is the land of Oz. We are taken through all sorts of ins and outs of her subconscious mind and ultimately find that the best adventure begins at home. As a child, the glamor of the colorful sets, the munchkin voices, the stories behind the Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion weave an interesting story of looking for something that's missing. There's the occasional scary scene with a nasty witch and even the flying monkeys. Then there's the "Great and Powerful OZ" who comes out of fire and steam. It makes for a very interesting and captivating movie. But as an adult, I've begun to actually listen to the dialog. The munchkin ladies come from the "Lullaby League" performing On Point Ballet, and some guys represent the "Lollipop Guild" with their Celtic style of dance. Dance is so interesting because it adds a whole new experience to the already known visual context of the movie. Even the military march of the Witch's guards is of note, because I'm sure it was something that gave rise to Stripe's march. But if you list closely to the dialog, you'll find some really hilarious quotes. My favorite is from the Scarecrow, "Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking." First time I heard this, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. It had been there all along, but I never noticed it.

Another example is Bugs Bunny. The content is cartoons where the characters commonly find themselves in unusual positions that cause pain and even death. Blowing each other to bits, shooting each other full of holes, and even skyrocketing because of a dragon that blows fire has a cold and sneezes into a room filled with explosives. It's hilarious as a child because it's the extreme on being ridiculous. But if you listen closely to the dialog, when Bugs is sick, he is usually told to take a teaspoon of medicine before bedtime, at which point he swallows the entire teaspoon. Everything is taken as literally as possible, which only extends the ridiculous, but as a child I was confused as to why he swallowed the utensil. Now I get it.

Finally, with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I had a recent revelation. I noticed several years ago that this novel was written by Ian Flemming, the same author of the James Bond series. Ian Flemming, according to Wikipedia wrote lots of novels, and only two that were different from the Bond series. Ian Flemming's content has always been beyond the current; they represented future possibilities in technology. Chitty was no different, for the context of its time, and even went beyond the 20th century in what was possible. But the movie version was most interesting to me. Over the last 2 years I've been working in a NASA group for creativity. One of the more important aspects of this group is the understanding that in order to come up with good ideas to solve a problem, you must fail. In the culture of NASA however, from Apollo 13, failure is not an option; we are risk adverse. So when I listened to "Roses of Success" I found lots of excellent quotes that really drives what we do today. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was produced in 1964, the year I was born, but today, 46 years later we are finally beginning to pursue the idea that "There's magic in the wake of a fiasco!" To succeed, you must fail and fail and fail. It simply teaches us how to move forward.

So as I get older, I'm learning not to dismiss the movies that entertained me as a child. For in them I find new meaning, and possibly, new ideas for the future.

Conditional Respect

I have always considered myself a realist, not a visionary. Visionaries to me have ideas and ideals that transcend the rest of us. I tend to think in terms of what is possible and more likely possible. As a child I had become deeply interested in airplanes, aeronautics, and rocketry. I was always looking for more stimulus in these areas, and quite frankly could never seem to get enough. A result of this was that I felt less respected or tolerated among my peers and family. Yet I persisted.

When Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, I remember it, but really could have cared less. I was so infatuated with aeronautics at the time, and the thought of being with NASA was more of a visionary thought than a realist. Some might consider this to be a lack of self esteem or insecurity. To me, I knew my limits and that was fine with me. But it did sit in the back of my mind as I developed into the adult I am today. It wasn't until I made it to The Ohio State University that the possibility of being a NASA employee ever entered the realm of my thoughts. Further strengthening this was the acceptance into the advanced design class at OSU which was a 3 quarter class, not the standard single quarter. During that class, we interfaced with NASA and I began to understand that it was possible to work for NASA.

So when I received a job offer to become a NASA employee in 1999, my dreams had come true. I was on cloud nine. And to be honest, it changed my life. Working for NASA has been and continues to be an experience of joy and at times sincere despair. Working with some of the brightest minds in the world is simply amazing. Usually, there is very little communication problems among engineers and scientists that share a common job. Expanding into other circles brings along a certain level of communication problems, but breaking into unknown territory brings along communication and intent issues. Some personalities are so strong that they dominate the course of research, which has it's advantages and disadvantages. The advantage is that there is always support for that avenue. The disadvantage is lack of respect for alternate views. So the respect tends to be conditional; whether or not you support a particular direction in research. That's unfortunate because it is an indicator of an unwillingness to accept diversity in thought and divergent thinking; a type of thinking that tends to produce better solutions to tough problems.

But this is not the only exposure to conditional respect encountered as an employee of NASA. Everywhere I go, I am recognized as NASA if I have a NASA emblem on my shirt, my jacket, or even a hat. If I am introduced as NASA, it is clearly recognized. NASA continues to be held in the highest of reverence, both for creativity, ideas, innovation, breakthroughs and even a powerhouse of technology. But that's were the respect ends. As NASA it is fairly easy to get willing individuals and organizations to work with you, but money is commonly requested or expected. While staying at the Crown Plaza Astor in the French Quarter of New Orleans, I filed a form that exempts Federal Employees from having to pay an occupancy tax for the hotel stay. At the time of check out, the form was deemed invalid, and was not accepted; the hotel wanted its money even though it was not entitled to it. This type of behavior has also been observed at the Virginia Aquarium and Marine Science Center. In an attempt to barter entry into a NASA course, NASA simply wanted to use their classroom facility and possibly a tour of the facility for a class on Creativity and Innovation. Through the entire visit, NASA was told of the cost to do business with the VAMSC. It is interesting to note that they expected NASA to provide both funding and free entry into a class that usually runs about $1500 per person. Again, conditional respect.

Finally, the type of respect I am discussing seems to occur in personal relationships. All too often I've been told, when I was married, my mother-in-law only loved me because I loved her daughter. Otherwise she had no respect or love for me at all. A clear result of the divorce is that my ex-wife's mother does not even accept that I even exist, let alone am in the same room if I am there. It seems hypocritical, but more importantly, it is simply conditional respect.

An Effect of Environment on Pregnancy

In 1994 our family lost a true mench, my father-in-law and as of now my ex-father-in-law. At the time he passed away, he was 59, worked hard in the yard that July 4th hot afternoon. He went inside, took a shower and was noting how tired and hot it was; blowing lots of air and telling his wife how good the shower felt. After his shower, he retired to the family room, sat down in his chair and told his wife (my now ex-mother-in-law) that he felt as if he was going to pass out. In less than 10 seconds he did just that, and never regained consciousness. He was gone in less than 10 minutes even as his wife, a skilled registered nurse, tried to keep him alive until paramedics arrived.

This one event has had more of an affect on my life than I ever realized. First, being on the outside somewhat, I was able to collect my wife (ex now), pack up her clothing, get a flight to Columbus, OH from Newport News, VA, and attend to her needs at a time of crisis. Second, this taught me that life indeed is short, and to live each day as if it is your last; be thankful that you get up in the morning. Third, it set into motion a series of events that would eventually have a sort of repeat performance that my fraternal grandfather endured when married to my grandmother Sadie. My ex-mother-in-law used to be tempered by my ex-father-in-law, and we had a very warm and comforting relationship. Without that balance, my ex-mother-in-law became a very mean person to me, one that would disrespect me constantly and one where my ex-wife expected me to simply accept it. The other more long lasting effect this event had on my life was the depression of my ex-wife.

Over the period of 3 years, until our daughter was born, my ex deteriorated into a serious depression. Even though I did all that I could to help the situation, and my ex sought professional help, it was insufficient to have the longer lasting affect on our marriage and even our daughter. The depression lead to serious weight gain that culminated in gastric bypass surgery as well as two reconstructive surgeries for the removal of excess flesh, and according to a recently published journal article, sleep problems with our daughter.

According to a recent article, infants born to mothers suffering from depression are more likely to have sleep problems. At the time my daughter was born, my ex was still suffering from depression. It became so severe that it eventually lead to a bi-polar disorder of sorts; not to the point of incapacitating her, but to the point that it destroyed our marriage from frivolous spending, questions of her fidelity, promiscuity, and continued sleep disruptions. The more detrimental effect was on our daughter, who for the first 9 years of her life, hardly slept. It was common for my daughter to get about 4 hours of sleep at night and be ready to play, cry, and just be all day long. Couple the activity of my daughter with her mother's depression, and the entire scenario gets nasty.

While all of this is happening, I am attempting to work on my Masters of Science from George Washington University's Joint Institute for the Advancement of Flight Sciences (GWU-JIAFS). My daughter was born in the beginning of my fourth semester (second year, second class). I'll never forget what happened, because it defined the remainder of my relationship with my ex-wife. Each time through our marriage, when my wife needed me, I was there. When her father passed away, when her grandmothers passed away, when her aunts and uncles passed on, when she was fighting for the survival of her legs due to diabetic lesions, when her mother needed her and I went without her for months on end; I was there for it all. But when I needed someone to step up to the plate to help give me a few hours a night to study, my ex simply suggested I should quit graduate school. I was crushed. But being raised not to give up, I pressed forward with excruciating strength.

The deal my ex made with me was that if I could not get our daughter to sleep by 3am, she would help me out. In order to take my classes for my coursework, one at a time, work full time, and find some time to study, I would get up each morning at 5am, and head to work. I worked from 6:30am to 4:00pm and returned home by 5:00pm. Our daughter suffered from colic, wherein she began screaming around 6pm and it lasted until 9pm. I walked our daughter each day in a carriage to get some outside air, then later to the neighborhood swing set to play. I made dinner during the crying time, while our daughter was slightly comforted by running water, the washing machine, a tape of falling water, the vacuum cleaner, and even an indoor swing. After feeding my daughter, eating, and cleaning up from dinner, our daughter would slowly come out of her colic and I headed to bathe her. Until she was 5 years old, I bathed her nightly; I bathed once she was in bed. After that, I would first bathe her then I had her play and stay with me dressed while I bathed because my ex did not want to be disturbed by my bathing later in the evening. Our daughter would eventually go to sleep by 11pm, when I had the chance to finish cleaning the house or starting/finishing the laundry, and some study until 1am when my daughter received her mid-sleep bottle. Eventually that went away, and she simply was up until midnight. Rarely did she stay awake beyond 3am, and rarely did I get more than 3 hours of sleep at night. Many a night were spent with my daughter, where I placed her in our guest bed with pillows to cradle her, and I slept next to her. For 3 years that was the best way to get her to sleep through the night. The weekends were fun too - entirely my responsibility.

So why articulate all this? Depression is an outside factor to pregnancy. After learning today what lead to my suffering, it all made sense. For years I was blamed for having been the reason for my daughter's nocturnal problems. It was theorized that my active lifestyle was the reason my daughter did not want to sleep. This was compounded by the fact that my ex's family never saw this before; so it had to be me. I just wished I had known then what effect my ex's depression would have had on all of us. Would it have deterred me from pursuing the birth of my daughter? Never. But at least I would have known why I went through hell.

Relationship Hypocrisy

As we experience life and share it with the variety of other human beings around us, we are given an opportunity to choose who we want to be and who we want to have as a partner or friend. While it is true that our environment and roles set before us by our parents establishes a foundation for our personalities, I also see that we each have our own individuality. Each of my two brothers have something in common with me, aside from the same parents, we are as honest as anyone will find. This particular characteristic originates from our father, who is one of the most ethical and honest men I know. At age 46, I've noticed numerous individuals that consider themselves to be ethical and honest, only to find that they have no issue with taking a bite of fruit in a grocery store, swiping a piece of candy, or even pick up $10 off the ground and keep it for themselves. They think it's of no consequence, but they are hypocrites to suggest they are honest when indeed they are not.

While it is possible to have characteristics in our personality that is driven by our environment as we age, there are also characteristics that we have that are innate. Neither of my parents are capable of working with tools. They are intellectually sound but not necessarily have the interest or dexterity to use tools to fix various devices around the home; in fact they usually rely on others to repair various items in the home. But for me, I love using tools. I have always enjoyed looking at a machine and seeing how it operates, then tinkering with it. And the machine could be as simple as a bike wheel where spoke tension is used to maintain a wheel's true circular shape, or the intricacies of an electronic chip where I can use various measuring devices to understand how it works. Where did I get this gift? I suspect somewhere within my grandfather's background. Based on limited information I have from my father's cousins, my fraternal grandfather was fairly capable with tools. So it is possible then that genetic disposition is passed along in our personalities, a rather interesting effect. But considering how nature operates it makes sense. In a "survival of the fittest" realm, the innate behavior to be aware of our surroundings is with us; these were the early humans that survived the wildness of nature.

All of this seems to be going nowhere, but I have a reason for this post. Our personalities is what makes us individuals in society. Some of it learned, and some of it genetically implanted in our DNA. When I was married to my wife, getting together with my family was always a picnic. My wife would tell me that she didn't like the way my brothers would talk to me, and my brothers didn't like the way my wife talked to me. I was caught in the middle of a terrible tug of war. While my brothers tried to be accepting of me and my differences, what was interesting to me was that my wife would tell me, "I can call you an asshole but no one else can." My brothers didn't refer to me as such, but the relationship I had developed with them was not the ideal one either. While I was not too fond of being called an asshole, the underlying message was that they each loved me in their own way, but the method chosen to express that love was not necessarily the best. My wife was a hypocrite, but my brothers included me in their lives when possible.

I used to think this hypocrisy that I was dealing with my wife was unique to me, but it is not. In fact, it is more common than we know. After having been back on the dating scene for more than 3 years, and having lasted through a 20 year relationship with my ex-wife, I see this form of love all the time. The question is why do we need to express our feelings using such hypocrisy? Does it make us feel better because we are in control of our relationships? Does it make us feel better to know we are better than someone else? Or better yet, does it hide our own insecurities by pushing off our responsibilities to be a good person? Or is it easier to do this than the harder task of just accepting people for who they are? I suspect it's more of the last question than all the rest.

In one relationship, the lady I was dating said to me, "don't eat that or I won't kiss you after dinner." She was Jewish and fairly kosher in her eating habits, and was not interested in kissing me if I had eaten something with pork in it. It was fine to eat something with chicken and cheese, which I did, and then get a kiss, but not pork. Then there were other ladies I took to dinner once, and dared not go out again, because the pictures they had used at the online dating services were either 3 to 5 years younger, or 100 pounds lighter. But they each expected me to be accurate in my photo. One had the audacity to say that I had some gray hair that was not in the photo. When I told her that even in the photo she saw, I had my hair dyed, that was not enough. More hypocrisy and even more of a reason to not date any further. These ladies were hypocrites, and in some cases, more than I ever imagined. But one underlying issue they all suffered from was insecurity; they were so insecure with themselves they felt it acceptable if they lied about their looks, or their beliefs, or even their acceptance of others. In my mind, they were undatable.

So, as we go through life, it is important to find the right mate for a long term relationship. Good, healthy, and thriving relationships seem to find a basis in a few characteristics. One is integrity, which is kind of like virginity; once you lose it there's no getting it back. Hypocrisy is the easiest form of missing integrity to notice in a relationship. It is a harbinger of how continued dating with that individual is likely to not provide a healthy, long term, mate to share your life and life experiences.