One night recently, I was sitting amiably eating dinner with
my kids. Out of a desire to make conversation, I started to
tell them about my favorite children's book, "Artie the
Smartie."
Artie was a fish. Artie had two main features that I
distinctly recall. One was that he always swam against the
direction of all the other fish. The second was that Artie
knew how to take the bait off the fishermen's hooks without
getting caught. I know there was some kind of plot in the
book but it evades my memory.
After telling the kids my musings, they went on with their
own conversations, but I was lost in thought. I always
wondered what exactly attracted me to this particular picture
book that I would ask my mother to read over and over. Now
that I think about it, why does it stand out so strongly in
my memory, the image of that lone fish swimming against the
current? I wonder if it did, indeed, foreshadow some of my
growing-up years.
Thirty-something years ago, when I was enthralled with
Artie's antics, I certainly wasn't thinking about conforming
to societal norms. Yet as I grew up, so much of the time I
was swimming against the tide. Saturday morning, I didn't lie
in bed or watch cartoons like most of my contemporaries. I
was off to shul with my parents and even being proud
and happy about it. Kashrus was something we kept in
and out of the house, even when that treif candy bar
looked so tempting.
Of course, as I got older, the challenges against my moral
inner voice confronted me with even more force. Peer pressure
was something that, with a great deal of siyata
diShmaya, I looked straight in the eye. The words, "E-v-e-
r-y-o-n-e does / eats / wears it" never had much influence
over me, as it did over my contemporaries.
Even today, I still have to make value judgments,
particularly for my children's benefit. "We don't do that in
our house," or "No, I don't think that you should read / wear
that" are refrains that can be heard occasionally in my house
as they are probably heard in most homes. I've grown
accustomed to saying "No," so that while I don't enjoy it, I
recognize it as a part of life.
As I continued to consider the issue, I realized a different
dimension altogether exists as well. Today I also live a life
of "Yes" and there is comfort in that thought.
Yes, I do want to listen to the Rabbonim around me. Yes, I do
want to be considered an integral part of the Torah community
that I now live in. There is a lot of emotional satisfaction
in being able to say "Yes." To be different for the sake of
difference was never my goal. I have no need to stand out
and, in fact, relish the thought that I am considered
"normal," even "regular," by my neighbors and
contemporaries.
So, I'm sorry to say to you, Artie my dear fish, that while
it may be more daring to go against the norm and be an
independent, if I have the choice, I'd rather be in a place
where I can go with the flow.
[It all depends on which school of fish you attend...]
