"Directness Is Not My Most Attractive Asset"

My brother used to play hockey on Sundays at the Y in elementary school. His games ended right before dinner. "Sweaty and smelly" would be two descriptive words for him during those times. He would arrive at the table and pile hamburgers and mashed potatoes on his plate, every week. And every week I would tell him to go take a shower first. He would so much as toss a glance at our mother, and she would say to me, "Leave him alone. He's hungry."

That would be followed by my very loud remarks about how it's unappetising to sit at a table and be expected to eat under such conditions. (I think that's why I don't like hamburgers today.) My diatribes usually continued over the entire course of dinner. My mother would repeatedly tell me to stop, and my brother would eventually stomp away in anger or turn it into a joke, wrestling me to the floor and shoving his armpit in my face. Either way, he never showered before dinner, no matter my protests.

My beautiful son goes to baseball camp to prepare for the trip to Italy with the Israel Little League National Team. In 90 degree weather. Every day. He could be described as "sweaty and smelly" at this point in his life as well.

But this time I'm the Mom. And he doesn't come to the table without showering or changing his clothes.

Ahhhhh, finally. Tikun Olam.