O RE 15FI LE NAOMIFLOC City: West Bloomfield Kudos: The Holiday Teacher Ever since she moved into the Hechtman II Apartments seven years ago, Naomi Floch — the first principal of Hillel Day School of Metropolitan Detroit and a longtime Detroit Public Schools teacher — has made it her business to gather information about Jewish holidays and commemo- rations and share it with her neighbors. How did you start organizing Shabbat programming? "Ninety-eight-and-a-half percent of the people who live here are Jewish and I wanted to give them a Jewish education. Our first emphasis lies with the holidays, traditions, ceremonies and rituals; but we make sure to include commemo- rative observances — like Yom HaShoah also." When do you hold your sessions? "They are part of our oneg Shabbat celebra- tion on Friday nights. We offer them a week or two before the holidays so people can learn things in advance of the holiday." How do you prepare for the programs? "I work together with our general cultural chairman, Sonia Glaser, who lives at Hechtman; and we have a program committee. I write all the material and then I contact people who I know would be good participants and I ask them to learn about an area and present it at the oneg. That way, it's a double learning situation for some of the people in the audience, too. We also serve refreshments and that gives people a chance to ask me more questions or set up a time to discuss the material further." Why do you volunteer? "I'm not the type of person who can sit in a chair with my hands folded. There is so much to learn — and teach. For some people, the days seem long. For me, the days are not long enough." LI — Shelli Leibman Dorfman, staff writer REPORT A DOER... Know a Doer — someone of any age doing interest- ing, meaningful things in their life outside of their job? Share suggestions with Keri Guten Cohen, story development editor, at (248) 351-5144 or e-mail: kcohen@thejewishnews.com 7/ 2 2004 10 See You In September here is a TV commercial for Southwest Airlines that airs frequently at this time of year. It compares their bargain fares to the feeling.that once swept over you on the last day of school. GEORGE The ad shows a bunch of office CANTOR workers running merrily from Reality their building; screaming, throw- Check ing paper in the air, behaving in a generally unruly manner. But one guy just strides ahead with a dazed look on his face. That would have been me. I went through most of my school years with that sort of look. But on-the day that school let out for summer, it was accentuated. I never went to camp. No one in my neighbor- hood did. Once or twice during the season, my dad would manage to get a few days away from his office; and we would go on driving trips somewhere. When I say driving trips, I mean just that. Stops were made infrequently and reluc- tantly. My dad's goal. seems to have been to cover as many miles and shoot as many rolls of eight-millimeter film as fast as humanly possible. America just sort of whizzed by the car windows. But the rest of the summer consisted of extended idleness; long, shapeless days of listening to the radio or playing ball, either on an actual field or on one of several board games that I owned. Every once in a while, a tune pops into my head. I know it from somewhere and can't place it. Then George Cantor's e-mail address is gcantor@thejewishnews.com I realize it was a singing commercial implanted deeply in my brain from those long-ago summer radio days. What makes it worse is that the jingle usually plugs a product or company that no longer exists. United Shirt Distributors. Worth Clothes. Federal Department Stores. Hi-Speed Gasoline. Robert Hall. Pfeiffer Beer. Like some sort of weird alarm clock ringing in an abandoned house, they go on pitching products no one can buy. Souvenirs of summers long past. There would also be infatuations that ended badly. Sometimes, the name pops into my memory, but I search without success for the accompanying face. One summer, we had a front porch and on rainy days there was nothing better than to sit there on the swing with a book, a Kool-Aid and a portable radio propped up on the window ledge and watch Tuxedo Avenue in Detroit get wet. The greatest blunder in the history of American domestic architecture was doing away with the front porch. Decks don't even come close. By August, the joy of the last day of school had shriveled into boredom. "There's noth- ing to do," I'd complain to my mother, who would inevitably respond, "Only stupid people are bored." So I'd peddle over to the Parkman Branch and get some books or daydream that a summer infatu- ation would turn up in one of my classes in September and rekindle the passion — or whatever it is that passes for passion when you're 12. On Labor Day, I'd watch the sunset and realize that vacation was almost over and very little of the anticipation of June had come true. And I surrendered my freedom with a smile. Shabbat Candlelighting "I cherish each time I light my Shabbos candles because it is my special time to stand before God alone and talk to Him. Then, when I uncover my eyes and look at the beautiful lights, I feel very connected with Him as I begin Shabbos." — Sara Field, librarian, Oak Park Candlelighting Friday, July 2, 8:55 p.m. Candlelighting Friday, July 9, 8:53 p.m. Shabbat Ends Saturday, July 3, 10:06 p.m. Shabbat Ends Saturday, July 10, 10:03 p.m. To submit a candlelighting message, call Miriam Anmalak of the Lubavitch Women's Organization at (248) 548-6771 or e-mail: miriamamzalakl@juno.com