Marriage counseling southern style

Two guys from Hawkinsville are quietly sitting in a boat at a pond in Pulaski County, Georgia fishing, chewing and drinking beer when suddenly Bubba says, "I think I'm going to divorce my wife - she hasn't spoken to me in over 2 months."


Earl spits, sips his beer and says, "You better think it over , women like that are hard to find."

$50,000 funeral

Chaim died. His will provided $50,000 for an elaborate funeral. As the last guests departed, his wife, Sarah, turned to her oldest friend.

"Well, I'm sure Chaim would be pleased," she said.

I'm sure you're right," replied Rachel, who lowered her voice and leaned in close. "How much did this really cost?"

"All of it," said Sarah. "Fifty thousand."

"No!" Rachel exclaimed. "I mean, it was very nice, but $50,000 ?"

Sarah answered, "The funeral was $6,500. I donated $500 to the shul. The shiva food and drinks are another $500. The rest went for the memorial stone."

Rachel computed quickly. "$42,500 for a memorial stone? Oy VEH, how big is it?!"

"Two and a half carats".

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? .......What do you see?
What are you thinking......when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ....not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .......with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice....."I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice ....the things that you do.
And forever is losing .............. a sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ....... the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse......you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am ....... as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .....as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .......who love one another

A young boy of Sixteen ...........with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. ..........a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty .........my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows........that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now .......... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide ....... and a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty ........ my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ......... with ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons ........have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me........to see ! I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .......... babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ......... my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me .......... my wife is now dead.
I look at the future ............I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing ........young of their own.
And I think of the years...... and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man.........and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age .......look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass ...... a young guy still dwells,
And now and again ........my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys.............. I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.

I think of the years ....all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people ..........open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer....see........ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.....we will all, one day, be there, too!

Have we met?

Dating men in uniform?

Knowing where you stand with your date

How to break up with your date ?

A "little" emotional ?

Women's Dictionary

Words Women Use:

1.) FINE: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2.) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five Minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

3.)Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

4.) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

5) Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6.) That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7.) Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.

8.) Whatever: Is a women's way of saying F@!K YOU!

9.) Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking, "what's wrong", for the woman's response refer to #3.

A Golden Heart, by Chaim Walder

Our wedding took place twenty years ago. The families of both of us did their utmost for our sakes. Each side gave what it could. We had a lovely wedding and our parents bought us a nice apartment. Life for us was a bed of roses.

Two weeks before the wedding, my chosson took me to his grandmother's -- a visit, he explained, was a tradition in the family.

As we sat on her porch, she handed me a beautifully wrapped box which contained a huge diamond ring. I didn't have to be a diamond expert in order to realize that this ring was very expensive.

Everyone gasped, while Bubby Chava simply said: "This is my gift to you."

I soon learned that Bubby Chava gives each new kallah in the family a very expensive piece of jewelry so that the kallah will always remember her.

Actually, Bubby Chava was so sweet and darling that no one could forget her. But a custom is a custom, and who was I to dispute its significance, especially when the ring cost $5000?

Yes, that is what it cost. How do I know? You'll soon find out.

My father thought that it was unspeakable to go outside wearing such a ring when so many children in the country are starving. But he would have reacted the same way about a $200 ring, so that I really didn't take this to heart. Actually I also felt guilty about wearing such a ring. (In addition to the guilt pangs, the ring made me miserable in other ways too. But only a woman can understand that.)

It sounds petty to say this, but the ring was a bit big on me. Every woman knows how nerve wracking it is when a ring is too wide and there's space between the ring and her finger. It drives you bats, like a mouth sore, and you walk around all day feeling your finger to see if the ring's still there.

And that's precisely what I did the entire wedding.

I spent the entire night worrying about the ring and making sure that it hadn't fallen off. But because I also had a wedding ring, I had two rings to toy with for the same price -- actually not for the same price.

The wedding passed. The sheva brochos week was fantastic. Both families came for the entire Shabbos, and the Shabbos meals, with their zemiros and droshos were great.

Since we live in Netanya, after the morning meal we took a stroll on the boardwalk.

Seuda shlishis lasted until after dark. Then my new husband made havdoloh and, as is customary in our families, everyone threw pillows at him.

Shortly after havdoloh, my new shvigger asked: "Where's the ring?"

I looked at my finger and, to my dismay, I didn't see any ring.

I turned pale.

A mini-commotion erupted and my husband said: "I'll take a look in our room. Maybe you forgot it there."

I was very tense and began to bite my fingernails. Something in my heart told me that he might not find it. After all, the ring was a bit too large for me and I hadn't fingered it for quite a while.

Then the dreaded moment arrived. My husband returned from the room in which we had stayed and said, "I can't find it."

"Did you look in the closet?" I asked.

"Yes."

"In the drawers?"

"Yes."

To make a long story short, he had looked everywhere but hadn't found it.

At that point, there wasn't a soul in the family who didn't know that I had lost a $5000 ring, except for Bubby Chava who had gone home directly after havdoloh. (Now you know how I knew its price. When things are lost, you find out how much they are worth very quickly. This is true not only with respect to jewelry, but also with respect to people.)

My shvigger went up to my room with a number of nice aunts and, believe it or not, they began taking out every item in our suitcases, which davka looked messier than usual. Quite soon I grasped that there were other things which interested them besides the ring.

After a search which took more than an hour, my aunts began to suggest where it might be. When I finally dared to hint that it was a bit big on me, one of them remonstrated: "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"I did!!" I replied.

Then the tension began to mount, without hope of its subsiding so quickly. When we tried to recall where we had been that day, we concluded that ring had fallen off on the beach. But to search for it there was futile because, although the ring was big, Netanaya's beach is bigger.

It's hard to pinpoint the precise moment that the seeds of resentment began to sprout. But I recall that when we went downstairs to the car, everyone looked a bit sour. No one tried to console me or to say that I wasn't to blame. And I understood them. It really was an expensive ring, and they should be commended for not having shouted: "Dunce, are you a baby who loses things?" But even if they didn't yell, their facial expressions said it all.

My husband and I returned home crestfallen. Trying to joke, my husband said: "Great. Now the ceiling price for my losing things is $5000." He paid dearly for that joke, because I didn't see it as an attempt to dispel the tension but rather as an attempt to needle me. And so I let out all the anger I felt against myself, on him.

He apologized and apologized, but to no avail. I was very hurt by both the loss of the ring and the accusations hurled against me.

My husband behaved like a tzaddik. He consoled me and explained: "You're not to blame. The person who insisted that you wear the ring even though it was too big is at fault." But he basically blamed himself. He was so sympathetic too, that by the end of the evening I concluded that if this had been a nisoyon, he had passed it with flying colors.

Okay. He passed the test. But his family didn't.

Every time we visited his family, the incident of the ring hovered in the air. Their sarcastic questions about how I felt about the loss made me squirm. The cutting remark that Bubby, who probably realized what had happened and was suffering in silence, made my life intolerable. I don't blame them, but apparently when one loses an item worth more than a hundred shekel he pays a price which far exceeds that of the lost item.

Along with the ring, I lost my new family's love and esteem. I felt disliked and loathsome. After all how can one like a person who thoughtlessly discards a $5000 ring. What is she, a baby? Couldn't she have been a bit more careful? The ring wasn't that heavy!

Generally, these feelings weren't stated outright, but were only hinted at. Yet strangely, whenever I tried to explain myself, the criticism against me increased. At first they would cluck there teeth: Too bad it happened. It's so annoying. Then the inevitable, "Pray tell, if the ring was so big on you, why did you wear it?" would ensue.

The beginning of my marriage was very gloomy. I felt that I could never regain my former esteem. The loss of the $5000 ring seemed to brand me as irresponsible and unreliable, as well as a pain-in-the-neck.

The situation reached a peak when we bought an expensive vase and one of my brothers-in-law told my husband: "You'd better carry it, you know." He said that in front of everyone. Well, all I can say is that I exploded and screamed that I wouldn't set foot in that house again, and that they were spilling my blood.

Then the fighting period, during which my poor husband tried to bring about a reconciliation between them and me, began. He didn't actually include me in these efforts, but I understood that he had argued with his brothers, telling them that if they continued to pick on me, he would sever all ties with the family. Actually, we did sever the ties for about a week-and-a- half. But Bubby Chava intervened, and in that manner confirmed that she indeed knew the entire story.

Then came the appeasement, which was very unpleasant. My shvigger apologized and explained that of all her daughters-in-law, she loved me best. I in turn made a number of gooey statements such as: "I always felt that you loved me."

But the whole affair had tired me out. Peace supposedly prevailed but it was a chilly peace. I felt crushed and sensed that they would never love me and never appreciate me, and would surely never entrust me with an item worth more than fifty shekels.

The turnabout came four months later. We had gotten married two days after Shavuos. At the wedding and during sheva brochos week, my husband wore a frock. He also wears one on yomim tovim.

It was nearly Rosh Hashonoh. My husband took his frock out of the closet, put it on, and asked me if it still fit, or whether he had gained weight. I told him that he looked pretty thin.

Suddenly he thrust his hand into the pocket of his frock -- and what do you think he fished out? My ring, of course.

We stared at the ring for a number of moments without saying a word. Then he said: "I'm in a state of shock. Apparently I placed the ring in my frock."

We sat opposite each other for a while, and then I burst into tears, releasing all of my pent-up emotions. He called his mother immediately and told her that he had found the ring. Shortly afterwards, everyone came over: his parents and his brothers, who examined the ring, and then Bubby and Zeidy who were overjoyed that the ring had been found. All
heaved sighs of relief and asked me to forgive them for the pain they had caused me.

Then all wondered why, in the first place, they hadn't thought that it was in the pocket of my husband, who was known to be forgetful and unreliable. My husband was a bit offended but the excitement over having found the ring braced him. I guess insults flung at you when a $5000 ring is in the palm of your hand aren't as devastating as those flung when you aren't holding such a condolence prize.

From then on, I was the family's queen. All realized that they had erred and that I was a responsible person who never loses a thing. Poor lady. But what can she do if she was destined to marry a scatterbrain who happens to be our son/brother? It was so kind of her to have agreed to marry such a fellow."

I was in seventh heaven. Suddenly tons of love and attention landed on my head. Even though my husband was slightly offended by the insults, he was still glad for me. In addition, he gained a happy wife, peace of mind and everlasting shalom bayis.

But the story doesn't end here.

*

From that day on, I bore my husband a slight grudge for having caused me so much anguish during the first few months of my marriage. Funny, but during the early months when everyone thought that I was to blame for the loss of the ring, he never used the incident as ammunition against me, and never needled me about it. But once the ring was found and he was considered the irresponsible one, I would use that point as a springboard to needle him whenever I could.

If we had money, I would tell him that I preferred to hold onto it myself, lest he lose it. When a package or a document had to be delivered, I would say: "Let someone else take it, so that it won't get lost in the sandbox." Soon the phrase "in the sandbox" became an idiom I would use in order to hint that he was unreliable.

Many people take advantage of the foibles of those dearest to them in order to ridicule them. This is a form of hono'as devorim which is forbidden. But that is precisely what I did.

My husband suffered in silence and didn't complain. There were times when I saw his pained _expression when I spoke that way and I would feel sorry and placate him. But beyond the pained _expression, he never complained.

Actually, we were very happy and our life proceeded smoothly. We had seven adorable children who loved their parents. They too knew the story about the ring which all thought that Ima had lost on the beach and which absentminded Abba had actually forgotten in his frock. Who told them? You guessed it. Little old me!

Fifteen years passed.

I still wore the ring to important simchas and received many compliments for it. One day, though, I decided to exchange the ring for some other pieces of jewelry, in order to surprise my husband. I asked my shvigger where Bubby Chava bought her jewelry and she replied: "At Yankel Cohen's. He's a fine jeweler."

One afternoon, I went to Mr. Cohen's store and showed him the ring. "My husband's grandmother bought this here," I told him "and I want you to evaluate it for me."

"Wow," he shrieked after examining it. "It's gorgeous, and is worth a lot of money -- more than $6000. I don't mind exchanging it for whatever you want. But I just want you to know that she didn't buy it here."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked in surprise. Then I told him her name and said that she always buys her jewelry from him.

"True," he replied. "She always buys her jewelry here. But I never sold such a ring in my life. Apparently she bought it somewhere else."

I thought a bit and then figured that since the ring might be worth more than $6000, I should really check with my husband before exchanging it.

When I came home, I rummaged through my jewelry box for the ring's receipt. When I found it, I learned that it really hadn't been bought in Mr. Cohen's jewelry store, but at a very exclusive and famous jeweler in town. It had indeed cost $5000, and its price had apparently risen over the years. But then an additional detail, which I might have ignored under normal conditions, caught my eye.

I waited until my husband returned home from kollel, my heart beating like a sledgehammer all along.

When he arrived, I told him that I had wanted to exchange the ring for some other pieces of jewelry, and that I had spoken with Mr. Cohen who said it was worth $6000.

"Great," my husband replied. "We made a thousand dollars."

"Yes, but Mr. Cohen said that Bubby bought the ring somewhere else," I demurred.

"Could be," he said.

"Do you mean to say that Bubby Chava might have bought my gift somewhere else?"

"What's the problem?" he asked.

"I'll tell you what's bothering me," I said as tears streamed down my cheeks. "For fifteen years I didn't realize what a good-hearted and wonderful husband you are -- one I don't deserve. You pulled that one over in the most amazing manner possible. I lost my ring, and you quietly took a loan and bought me a new one. No, don't try to hide it. You did that in the most elegant and polished manner possible. You found exactly the same ring for the same price. But you forgot one thing: to hide the purchase date."

Then I showed him the receipt with the purchase date -- the 14th of Elul.

"Maybe you've forgotten, but I still remember that we were married on the 9th of Sivan. Bubby Chava gave me the ring before the wedding, so that this ring was bought four months after I got the original one. The date gave you away," I protested -- and then burst into bitter tears.

It is difficult to describe the thoughts that raced through my mind at that time. Imagine that! A young man takes on a $5000 debt so that his family would believe that he is to blame for the loss of a ring, and not his wife. What a gift! I knew that I was the only woman in the world who had received such a present. I am not referring to the ring, but to the fifteen years during which the blame was shifted from me to him. Until today, I shudder when I recall how I kicked him in what I thought was his Achilles Heel, but which was really the area in which he so excelled.

That evening he told me what he had gone through in order to pay back that debt. He then explained that he couldn't have eliminated the resentment between me and his family, unless they thought that I wasn't to blame. "They're good people," he said. "But good people also have weaknesses. What could I do? That was their weakness."

It took him years to repay that debt, and I had made things worse for him by my digs. But even those digs reminded him of what he had gained: a happy wife, peace of mind and sholom bayis.

I am telling this story because I want to share the lesson I learned with everyone. The lesson is: never remind a person of his weakness, and surely don't make it the subject of your digs. But most important: clear your hearts of all resentment and preconceived notions, because even if you don't badger a person who erred, your anger at him will find ways to project itself.

Nothing is worth the anguish and pain we suffered over the loss of the ring. Gold and diamonds come and go, and sometimes even get lost in sandboxes. So be it, as long as human beings aren't hurt as a result.

Learn from my husband too. For fifteen years he agreed to be blamed for a blunder he hadn't committed, so that his wife would be happy. In that way he is like Rabbi Akiva who said: "A person should throw himself into a fiery furnace if only not to see the disgrace of his fellow."

This seems like a story about a diamond ring, but it is really a story about a golden heart.

What is a Lakewood bochour looking for in a girl?

Got this in a email. Is this the true attitude there?


A shadchen asked the 'best bochur in Lakewood' what he was looking for in a girl. After some thought, the bochur replied. "I was driving down the Garden State Parkway last week when I noticed what seemed to be a heimishe woman trying to change a flat tire. I felt bad that she was obviously by herself and made a u-turn, figuring I would check it out for sure by driving by slowly this time. Sure enough she was heimish and I helped her change the tire. After I was done and about to drop the spare in the trunk, she put her finger to her lips and whispered,

"Please don't slam the trunk. I don't want to wake up my husband - he's sleeping in the back seat..."

The bochur smiled at the shadchen and said, "That's what I'm looking for in a girl!"

Secret of a Long Jewish Marriage

With a couple celebrating their 50th anniversary at the synagogue's marriage marathon, the Rabbi asked Moishe to take a few minutes and share some insight into how he managed to live with the same woman all these years. Moishe replied to the congregation, "Well, I treated her with respect, spent money on her, but mostly I took her traveling on special occasions."

The Rabbi inquired...trips to where? "For our 25th anniversary, I took her to Beijing, China." The Rabbi then said, "What a terrific example you are to all husbands Moishe. Please tell the audience what you're going to do for your wife on your 50th anniversary? " Moishe replies: "I'm going back and get her.

Guts and Balls -The Medical Distinction

We've all heard about people having guts or balls. But do you really know the difference between them? In an effort to keep you informed, the definition for each is listed below...

GUTS - is arriving home late after a night out with the guys, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the guts to ask: "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - is coming home late after a night out with the guys, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the butt and having the balls to say: "You're next."

I hope this clears up any confusion on the definitions. Medically speaking, there is no difference in the outcome since both ultimately result in death.

Escaping?

Give her the finger?

I was riding to work yesterday when I observed a female driver, who cut right in front of a pickup truck, causing the driver to drive onto the shoulder to avoid hitting her.

This evidently angered the driver enough that he hung his arm out his window and gave the woman the finger.

"Man, that guy is stupid," I thought to myself. I ALWAYS smile nicely and wave in a sheepish manner whenever a female does anything to me in traffic, and here's why:

I drive 48 miles each way every day to work.
That's 96 miles each day.

Of these, 16 miles each way is bumper-to-bumper.

Most of the bumper-to-bumper is on an 8 lane highway.

There are 7 cars every 40 feet for 32 miles.

That works out to 982 cars every mile, or 31,424 cars.

Even though the rest of the 32 miles is not bumper-to-bumper, I figure I pass at
least another 4000 cars.

That brings he number to something like 36,000 cars that I pass every day.

Statistically, females drive half of these.
That's 18,000 women drivers!

In any given group of females, 1 in 28 has PMS. That's 642.

According to Cosmopolitan, 70% describe their love life as dissatisfying or unrewarding.
That's 449

According to the National Institute of Health, 22% of all females are seriously considered suicide or homicide. That's 98.

And 34% describe men as their biggest problem. That's 33.

According to the National Rifle Association, 5% of all females carry weapons and this number is increasing.

That means that EVERY SINGLE DAY, I drive past at least one female that has a lousy love life, thinks men are her biggest problem, has seriously considered suicide, or homicide, has PMS, and is armed.

Give her the finger? I don't think so.
(author unknown)

The Perfect Man

An extraordinarily handsome man decided he had the God-given responsibility to marry the perfect woman so they could produce children beyond comparison. With that as his mission he began searching for the perfect woman.

After a diligent, but fruitless, search up and down the East coast, he started to head west. Shortly thereafter he met a farmer who had three stunning, gorgeous daughters that positively took his breath away. So he explained his mission to the farmer, asking for permission to marry one of them.

The farmer simply replied, "They're all looking to get married, so you came to the right place. Look them over and select the one you want,"

The man dated the first daughter. The next day the farmer asked for the man's opinion.

"Well" said the man, " She's just a weeeeee bit, not that you can hardly notice...but pigeon-toed,"

The farmer nodded and suggested the man date one of the other girls; so the man went out with the second daughter.

The next day, the farmer again asked how things went. "Well," the man replied, "she's just a weeeee bit, not that you can hardly tell, cross-eyed."

The farmer nodded and suggested he date the third girl to see if things might be better. So he did.

The next morning the man rushed in exclaiming, "She's perfect, just perfect! She's the one I want to marry!"

So they were wed right away. Months later the baby was born. When the man visited the nursery he was horrified, the baby was the ugliest, most pathetic human you can imagine.

He rushed to his father-in-law asking how such a thing could happen considering the parents.

"Well," explained the farmer, "she was just a weeeee bit, not that you could hardly tell... pregnant when you met her."