981) Volunteered to distribute cookie dough.
982) Helped a colleague with some technical assistance.
983) Donated items for an upcoming school party.
Yizkor Service
I attended synagogue this morning to participate in the Yizkor service. It is held four times a year and allows people a chance to honor the memory of their loved ones. I returned to a synagogue I had gone to many times after my father died to say the mourners prayers. The rabbi’s sermon discussed the difference between memories and history. Our history are the facts and data about our lives but memories are the images we recall about that history. Photos help us preserve and remember those facts and data as a memory. I love seeing a photo that helps me recall a story or moment in time that has gotten fuzzy. Our memories of our history are what helps us continue to move forward and never forget our loved ones.
At synagogue I received two mitzvahs.
This Yizkor service obviously invokes tears for many. As I made my silent prayers and thought about my father I felt content. I have learned so much since his death and while I miss him his spirit is always with me. Several minutes later, after the Yizkor service was over, something triggered my tears and suddenly I was a gushing water fall. Answering a friend’s request if I was okay, I jokingly answered that I was fine, but had lousy timing. Later, one of the Rabbi’s also inquired if I was okay. Wow, I must have made quite a scene. I was touched by his concern though.
Finally, an old acquaintance let me know he would be donating to a food bank in honor of my 1000th mitzvah.
1,000 Mitzvahs 
Sorry for your tears, dearest Linda. I know I feel that way sometimes when I think of my mother and father. They did the best they could raising me, and it was not perfect. But when I think about how they had to sustain themselves in a very troubled marriage, through wartime, on very little money, I know they went the distance to be parents to me. Mother was SO young — only 18 when she married, and I came a year and a month later. Sometimes I feel guilty that I interrupted her college career. But I know both Dad and I kept telling her to go back to school. She never did, and I don’t really know why.
Now that so many years have passed, I miss them and wish I could visit with them again. I have so many questions that aren’t answered.
Such is life! Ask me anything! I’m not done yet…
Love,
Mom/Ellen