Author: Shari Brauner

A Teachable Moment

I’ve been having trouble writing lately. My spidey senses warned me that October was going to be a brutal month, but my inability started long before the world as I knew it blew up. After a challenging year, I had lost my sense of self. The words that I connected to were no longer flowing freely. I became determined to find a way to recapture what I had always considered my gift, expecting that a glimmer of light would eventually lift my creative darkness. Instead, I was shocked to find a spark of evil igniting my breakthrough.

Over the past few weeks, I have been reading and seeing things that have taken me some time to process. Now my emotions have settled in as a calling to write. My identity as a writer has returned along with one that feels even more important at this time in history. I am a Jewish American.  And until a month ago, I was able to walk around forgetting about a malignancy that has been lurking in the shadows of that identity for decades. A hatred every Jew is aware of, but hoped would never land on their front doorstep.

I have heard people make the argument that antisemitism is not the same thing as taking a stand against Israel. Before October 7th, I might have been swayed. But by the end of the day on that gruesome Saturday, every Jew became one and the same.

I’m not going to pretend to know every detail of a history that goes back centuries in time, and I wish others would join me in being so honest. Because the unaware who are now speaking up for a cause they don’t fully understand have chosen to link arms with centuries of people who are taught at birth that the Jews have no right to exist. Too many supported the cold-blooded annihilation of six million Jews during World War II. How can it be that in 2023 we are seeing masses of new faces cheering on the prospect of another Jewish genocide?

Here are some facts that cannot be disputed. The Jewish population has recently been calculated to stand at roughly sixteen million people. With eight billion people in the world, that means we account for 0.2% of the world’s population. The largest portion of the those sixteen million live in the United States and Israel, two places that felt safe to migrate to when our families were being murdered in Russia and Eastern Europe. Genocide is a concept we understand all too well.

There is no way to explain the connection that many American Jews feel toward Israel. It is our homeland, even if we have never lived there. And for those who have friends and family there, that feeling is even stronger. The thought of fourteen hundred people being slaughtered in unimaginable ways for simply being Jewish is devastating and sickening to us. We are scared for the two-hundred plus Israelis and Americans who were dragged off to become useful hostages. What started off as empathetic pain is now growing into massive fear. A country the size of New Jersey is being targeted as a hateful nation that has no right to defend itself because its residents are Jewish. In what alternate universe would this not be called antisemitism?

A recent video posted by the actress Mayim Bialik touched me so much that I had to dig deeper into my own thoughts and feelings. While others are simply re-posting or picking a side, I think everyone should take a hard look at this issue from both sides. It’s a complicated one with plenty of suffering and death to go around. People are not their governments, but at this point in history, there is a big difference between a democratic state and a terrorist regime.

In June of 2007 after Israel withdrew troops and disengaged from Gaza, Hamas took over the government. Hamas is a terrorist organization that is being trained and funded by Iran, the world’s largest sponsor of terrorism. Hating Jews and wiping Israel off the map is their top priority. If you don’t believe me, ask them. They tell everyone. Hamas does not work for the people of Gaza and they don’t put value into any human life (not even their own). They store weapons in schools and hospitals and use their own people as human shields. They feed the blood-thirsty antisemites with anti-Israel propaganda and the world listens and believes. There is nothing good to root for here. They will never help the Palestinian people and they will never stop going after Israel.  The world needs to understand that their goal will never be peace, so the time has come for them to be eradicated. For further proof, look up the meaning of the word Hamas in Hebrew. It translates to violence. 

Two things can always be true at the same time. Both Israelis and Palestinians deserve peace, safety and security. While I sit and question why no Arab nations are stepping up in any way to help the Palestinians, it’s important to remember that many Palestinians had jobs in Israel and were crossing back and forth to make a living. Sick Palestinians were being treated in Israeli hospitals. In Jerusalem, Temple Mount is as prominent a structure as the Western Wall. The Dome of the Rock remains a place for Muslim worship with no Jews allowed. There are tensions at times, but for the most part, the Muslims and Jews have found a way to live side by side. That could never happen in Gaza because of Hamas. 

It’s a known fact that antisemitism is passed through the Arab generations by inserting the hatred of Jews into the school curriculum. In the past month, it has become more apparent that something similar seems to be emerging on our own college campuses. Activism is nothing new, but activism fueled by hate is bringing up a lot of questions. Is this coming from the classroom? Where are the administrative voices that should be shouting an unwavering decree that hate will never be tolerated? Good and Evil is usually not that complicated. Can someone explain to me when the terrorists became the good guys?

For my own sanity, I’m choosing to believe that we need this widespread hatred to be exposed. Everyone needs to see it and the Jewish people in the United States need to know who is lining up against them. Antisemitism needs to become universally troubling to all good people who understand right from wrong. Any country attacked by terrorists has a right to defend itself. Every person deserves an equal right to live and prosper. Every life should matter – period and full stop. Jewish lives matter, but in some circles we are learning that they do not.  Some of the loudest voices are screaming that the Jews should die. And make no mistake, they mean all Jews. Do I have to worry that someone is going to draw a Jewish star on my front door so the evil will know where to find me? Just a few weeks ago I was afraid to buy a dreidel centerpiece in Home Goods because I was scared that someone around me might see that I was Jewish. Are we supposed to be grateful because at least we’ll see it coming?

As I hope for peace, I also pray for an awakening. For the closed minds who have decided that Israel has no right to defend itself or exist, let me remind you that there is plenty of hate out there to go around. Eventually, someone will come for you if they haven’t already. The time is now to change the trajectory. We need a return to humanity, which used to be such a simple concept. Good over evil, right over wrong, and life over death. 

I titled this piece A Teachable Moment because in the last few decades I have learned that people can only relate to what they have experienced. 9/11 always seemed like a regional event to me based on the reactions of some who lived outside the New York area. And yet, it pulled people together in the most heartening and uplifting ways. We need another dose of that now. I only hope a relatable experience doesn’t have to come in the form of a terrorist attack on US soil. Because terrorism doesn’t take on a different definition only when you become the victim.

Posted on by Shari Brauner

Getting Back on the Horse

Truth be told, I did not ride a horse for the first time until I was fifty-three (if the feeble Barney even counts as a horse). All worst-case scenarios scared me too much. How embarrassed would I be if I couldn’t keep the horse on its designated trail? What if the horse got spooked and threw me off? Would I get the independent-minded horse who was in the mood for a joy ride? With so many possible things that could go wrong, I avoided the experience all together.

Now at fifty-six, I find myself at a 2023 crossroads that feels an awful lot like pushing myself to get on a horse. Only this time, my hesitancy involves a blank canvas or even worse for a writer, an empty page. It’s a version of writer’s block that has inhibited me from writing my own story and I know I have plenty of company in this predicament. Not just other writers, but anyone who has ever had to take care of a sick loved one.  It’s an all-consuming task that can strip a person of so many different things – including their own identity. 

Watching my daughter lose her quality of life at the age of twenty-six is an experience that I am slowly starting to recover from. Spending months witnessing her in a debilitating state without knowing the cause was horrifying. I would find her passed out all over the house during the day, while sleep would elude her at night. Thankfully, she was able to use her insomnia as an opportunity to scour the Internet, leading to her best guess that she was suffering from a form of chronic fatigue syndrome brought on by a candida yeast overgrowth. A specialist in New York City confirmed her diagnosis and began administering treatments that are now leading to a slow, but full recovery. 

After almost three decades of being a mom, I took pride in my role as the superhero who could be there for my children no matter what the circumstances. Of course, I discovered my limitations long ago, but I never expected to feel completely helpless. There was absolutely nothing I could do to make my daughter feel better, so my daily life became fixated on the things that I could do. I spent most of my time running errands, cooking meals and shuttling her to doctors’ appointments while losing sight of the fact that I wasn’t doing anything for myself. I didn’t even want to tell my closest friends what I was living through as if not talking about it made it less painful. My coping mechanism became walking through life without giving in to my frustrations or fears. My daughter and I were both in survival mode, even though she was the one fighting the illness.

Thankfully, my experience does not compare to anyone who has had to watch a loved one slowly slip away from Alzheimer’s, cancer, or any disease that ultimately robs a person of their life and dignity. The scars left from those battles rarely fade, but eventually every caretaker will emerge from a journey that is highly personal. They will have faced an experience that came without a handbook or roadmap and found their way to an ending that comes attached to a new normal. 

After taking care of someone with an illness, life can never return to being exactly what it was. The loss of consistently being needed often leaves a person with an emptiness that becomes difficult to fill. A sense of quiet replacing a constant state of worry might feel more unsettling than comforting. Even putting yourself first for the first time in ages could create an irrational sense that you are doing something wrong. In many cases it takes time to find a way to reset and catch up to a world that has now moved on without you. 

As the new year begins, I’m so grateful to be able to tell my caretaker story in the past tense with my daughter’s recovery now in progress.  Not everyone gets so lucky and yet I know I am in plenty of company when it comes to struggling to fill in my next steps. There are moments when I almost feel like the little girl who was leery of mounting the unpredictable horse. As I compare those fears to emerging from this experience, I am struck by the similarities. I successfully navigated my way through being derailed from what I thought was my designated trail, I survived getting spooked by an illness that felt at times like it was taking me down, and now I have been gifted the independence to take my own joy ride into the future.  Apparently, I really am ready to get back on that horse and embrace the journey forward.

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“Blindsided” Sneak Peak

Thank you for wanting to read an excerpt from my novel, Blindsided. Here’s what you need to know:

Heather Hunter is a second grade teacher who has returned from Winter Break with a problem. One of her families has emerged from the Christmas holiday in crisis after the seemingly perfect Rena Michaels walked out on her husband Derek and their son Cameron. Rena’s unexpected departure has left Cameron in a state of overwhelming emotional distress and Derek with the daunting task of figuring out how to help his broken son. As Heather and Derek embark on a partnership to help Cameron cope and heal, they experience a few inexplicable moments of unintended chemistry breaking through their mutual concern.

In this chapter, Heather is still reeling from one of those moments. She and Cameron had been working together after school and when Derek arrived, things took an unexpected turn. Wanting to keep things to herself, she nervously walks into a restaurant to meet her colleague and good friend, Aidan Decker, for dinner. Being social outside of school is a very normal occurrence for these teacher pals, but Heather keeping secrets from Aidan is not.

For those of you who know me personally, Heather and Aidan’s banter was inspired by some memorable moments with some of my own favorite male besties.

***

A few hours later, Heather met Aidan for dinner at their favorite burger joint.  She had left school feeling shell shocked, so she stopped at the gym to do a major de-stressing cardio workout.  Finishing her hour on the elliptical with just enough time to shower, Heather threw on her favorite powder blue sweat suit, and pulled her hair into a semi-wet ponytail.  A long and intense day usually set the perfect tone for a chatty dinner with one of her best friends. But as she miraculously walked into the restaurant only a few minutes late, nothing about her day felt anything close to usual.

Benny’s topped the list of Heather’s local favorite restaurants, offering mouth-watering food in a casual atmosphere. She loved the black and white checkered floors and the retro style booths and tables.  Best of all was the aroma of juicy hamburgers and crispy fries that stimulated her olfactory senses as soon as she stepped in the front door.  The smell alone could easily make her ravenous.

Heather’s stomach growled as she walked toward Aidan, already knowing she would find him at their favorite table.  Aidan’s brown hair looked a little long and unruly, even for Aidan, but one look into his hazel eyes and Heather wondered how she would refrain from sharing the experience she had just had back at school.  In Heather’s straight-shooting world, a crush on a parent was bad enough, but could Aidan ever understand why she had been compelled to give Derek her cell phone number? She had lived through the experience first-hand, and she still could not wrap her head around what had just happened.

Aidan took a noisy sip of his strawberry milkshake as Heather approached the table.  “Sorry I started without you, but I’ve been craving this all day.”

Heather let out a nervous giggle.  At twenty-seven, Aidan often seemed more like an energetic teenager than a grown man.  As the middle child of three boys, he exuded the quirkiness of someone who had struggled his whole life to stand out in a crowd.

Aidan stood and pulled out her chair prompting the response, “Well, if you’re going to be chivalrous, I suppose I have to forgive you for not waiting for me.  And besides, I am a few minutes late.”

Aidan stood fairly tall, but his lanky frame looked like it had never quite filled out.  In spite of his boyish looks and demeanor, he continued to surprise Heather with a soul that seemed wise beyond its years.  As he returned to his seat, she watched his SpongeBob Squarepants tie slide across his dark purple shirt.  Heather never ceased to be amazed by the phenomenon that immense wisdom could live inside such a playful spirit.

Returning to his chair, Aidan sat and folded his hands around his milkshake glass.  “Mondays are always much more pleasant when I get to have dinner with you.”

“Oh Aidan, do you still have your date night charm switch in the on position?  Speaking of, how did it go on Saturday night with Mandy?”

Aidan frowned.  “Next question.”

“That good, huh?  No wonder you’re drowning your sorrows in that milkshake.”

“How about we skip over the experience known as the Mandy Massacre? I’d much rather talk to you about the latest teacher grapevine scandal. Did you hear about Don Pinter and Sandra Curtis hooking up over Christmas Break? Let’s focus on that kind of breaking news.”

Gossip. A helpful distraction and one of Aidan’s worst vices. “Really. How did I miss that one? Two more colleagues daring to bend the wiggly school rules?”

“You said it Heather. It never ceases to amaze me how many people like to live on the edge. But then again, we already know the school handbook is useless. There’s nothing in there about any kind of personal interactions among teachers which is why I think we’re growing ever closer to having seen it all.”

“You think?” Heather stammered.

“Pretty close to it all. Teachers with teachers, teachers with administrators and I think one teacher even dated a janitor. The only thing left on the list would be a teacher and a parent, but even that’s an unpunishable offense, if you don’t count the abuse a person would take in our brutal grapevine.”

Heather could not believe what she was hearing. Her uneasiness returned times ten, as Aidan’s milkshake glass appeared to have taken on the shape of a crystal ball. How is he already onto me?

Obliviously, he continued, “So can we talk about Don and Sandra? When we’re out of school, nothing is out of bounds.”

The waitress’ timing was perfect to thwart Aidan’s momentum even though she didn’t need to stay long. Heather and Aidan were such regular customers that they quickly ordered their ‘usuals’ as Heather hoped the time lapse had thrown Aidan’s bloodhound nose off her own guilty scent.

 “You know Aidan, I think Don and Sandra could have a shot at something more than a hookup. I could see them together, couldn’t you?”

Heather held her breath, still irrationally fearful that Aidan might read something into her response that would cause suspicion.

“I could see anyone together at this point, Heather,” Aidan said, using his straw to dig  through the thickness of his shake. “We’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Wait. Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“You? Definitely not. You’re the last one I see counting the minutes left on your biological clock. You always have a new boyfriend either in the picture or on the horizon. I never worry about you finding someone. And that leaves me with a lot more time to worry about my own future, which at the current moment begs the question, will I ever get a second date?

“I know you’re in a bit of a dry spell, but you haven’t spent one Saturday night alone since I’ve known you.  When you’re not on a date, you’re out with friends.  That isn’t such a bad thing.”

Aidan rolled his eyes as his tone shifted into what Heather liked to call the playful sarcasm zone. “And exactly how would you know Heather? You may not have found your Mr. Right yet, but the evidence clearly shows that men love you.”

Heather’s complexion started to turn a shade of pink.  “They may love me, but you know I’ve never loved any of them.  And up until recently, I was okay with that.  But now I feel like things might be changing. Since you just reminded me that we’re not getting any younger, isn’t it time for me to emotionally connect with someone for the first time in my life?”

Aidan took a loud slurp of his milkshake and started to tease her.  “You know Heather, maybe Mr. Right showed up and you missed him because you were too busy having sex with Mr. Wrong.”

“Aidan!!”  Heather squealed as she fantasized about dumping Aidan’s milkshake over his head.

In the next minute, their cheeseburgers and French fries arrived, creating another welcome pause in the conversation. After thanking the waitress, Heather took a bite and tried to steer Aidan in a slightly different direction.

“Let’s just say a relationship should start with attraction.  Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s something chemical, but there definitely has to be a pull. We’ve both had that experience, but now that we’re in our late 20’s, wouldn’t it be nice to find something more? Do you ever think about finding the one?”

“The one?,” Aidan replied sardonically. “When did this dinner turn into a scene from a chick flick?” After popping a fry into his mouth, Aidan continued. “Honestly Heather, you really are full of surprises tonight. I had no idea you started the year off with the white picket fence syndrome. I feel like I don’t even know you anymore.”

Heather knew Aidan was kidding, but a wave of guilt still crested over her. He couldn’t know the things she chose not to tell him, even if a psychic moment had thankfully gone undetected. A more spiritual person might take the scare as a sign, but for Heather, she started to feel a sense of dishonor. She didn’t have a good track record of keeping secrets from Aidan, but there was something larger standing in the way of this big reveal – Aidan’s addiction to the teacher grapevine.

“You know me plenty, Aidan. I have always rooted for the happy ending, even though it always seemed like a long way off. And we both know people meet in all kinds of ways. Don and Sandra apparently couldn’t help themselves in spite of the eventual grapevine consequences. Sometimes that forbidden fruit is way too tempting.”

“Is that thing in season again?” Aidan replied flippantly as Heather unknowingly struck a nerve.

“Very funny. We both know there is no season for someone coming into your life who feels a little off limits. Inevitably, that person becomes subconsciously more enticing. Don’t you agree?”

Did he ever.  While Heather sent herself into a classroom flashback, Aidan found himself thinking about Heather.  He had wanted to date her almost from the moment they started working together, but all signs pointed to his place in the dreaded friend zone. At this point, he wasn’t willing to risk the rejection or the decimation of the most important relationship in his life, so he sat back and played the role of her confidante, colleague, and best friend.  Meanwhile, he clung to the possibility that time or circumstances might eventually change the dynamic between them.

“I’m a fourth-grade teacher Heather, not a relationship expert.  But I do think there is something to be said for wanting what you can’t have.  Like that banana split over there that would probably send me into cardiac arrest.” 

Heather never noticed that Aidan couldn’t be wise when he had something personal at stake.  If only he could enlighten her as to how much he understood.  It had tortured him to watch the men in her life come and go when he knew that he shared something much deeper and more meaningful with her. Up until now, he had only been competing with guys who shared her bed and he seemed to be able to handle that situation. The bigger fear revolved around the day someone would mean more to her, possibly setting off a jealous side he didn’t like to admit to.  

The conversation became more serious as they finished their meal and shared a piece of chocolate cream pie for dessert.  Heather told Aidan about the challenges of working with Cameron, including the small moment of the day that had left her feeling more optimistic and hopeful.  She always welcomed Aidan’s great teacher tips and advice, so prioritizing education strategies over personal confusion put her head back on straight.  For as much as Heather loved and trusted Aidan as a friend, she felt too mortified to share the thoughts and feelings she wished she wasn’t having.  Instead, she clung to the hope that she could find a way to re-focus and only see Derek Michaels as her student’s parent.

Posted on by Shari Brauner 4