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I WAS DEFINITELY NOT PREPARED for the lineup at the chiropractor's office on Monday morning.
As I
gazed around the room filled with middle-aged men like me, it didn't take long to discover
the
commonality; the Chiropractor confirmed what I had already concluded from my conversations
with the veterans in the waiting room. Every year, most married Jewish middle-aged men
attempt the equivalent of an Olympic weightlifting record by shlepping boxes of Pesachdik
plates, cutlery, pots, you name it, upstairs.
Then after only a week of recuperation time,
we are
required to haul them all back down to storage. There was a fancy medical term for it,
Vertebral
Pesachdosis, but it was more commonly known as "Shlepper's Back".
In my particular case, "Shlepper's back" just aggravated my underlying condition, first
acquired
when my wife was in labour with our first child (coincidently also during Pesach). Let me
explain. There I was, being a good labor coach by assisting her during contractions.
In
what I
can now see was a foreshadowing of the future, I was half-squatting, half-standing when I had
this extremely violent sneeze. I immediately felt this sharp lower back pain, which kept me
hunched over for the duration of her labor. By the time we got to the hospital, I was
willing to
fight her for the painkillers. She won. I have checked with the medical texts and confirmed
this
as the world's only registered case of male injury during childbirth.
Sitting around the Chiropractor's waiting room that Monday morning, us fellow shleppers
recalled how many years ago, before we had kids, it seemed we had far fewer things to shlepp.
Of course, there was a trade-off. We were just
too
naive to realize that less kashering meant more shlepping up and down the stairs. And, the
busier
and more populated our households got, the faster the Chametz-Pesach changeovers became,
resulting in more boxes shlepped in a shorter period of time, resulting in severely strained
back
muscles and legs. The cure? Lots of bed rest, and no heavy lifting for at least another 6
months,
until it's time to put up the sukkah, which creates, you guessed it, Vertebral Sukkahdosis.
And
the cure for that, is 6 months of no heavy lifting until it's time for...well, you get the
picture.
However, one positive thing has come out of all this. I am proud to announce that we have
now
formed the founding chapter of the Shlepper's Club, also known as the Zokef Kefufim Society,
led and facilitated by our devoted Chiropractor. The male bonding was instantaneous,
straight
out of the "Iron John" movement handbook, but without the hugging, wilderness retreats or
primal scream therapy. We have now realized that Jewish male backs are a precious commodity
indeed, required for davening (depending on shokkelling speed and torque), the occasional
hagbah at shul, numerous strenuous household tasks such as changing light bulbs, cleaning the
garage and workbench, as well as the annual Pesach and Sukkot shleppathons.
As the next
course of business, we all resolved to see each other soon, in about, say, six month's time.
Postscript: With a lot of treatment, my Shlepper's back is improving, and I resolve to start
my
weight training earlier next year. One thing is for certain, though. The next house we buy,
it'll
have its own dumb waiter system installed.
But until then, it'll just have to be me.
Jewish World Review April 15, 1999 / 29 Nissan, 5759
A Shlepper's Story
By Jordan Max
Or were our backs just stronger then? We recalled, those of us with memory still intact,
that
most pots and utensils were just kashered for Pesach. As the years went by and our financial
situations improved somewhat, we had bought more things so we and/or our wives would spend
less time kashering and more time cooking.
JWR contributor Jordan Max is a Toronto-based humorist and columnist for
The Candian Jewish News. Send your comments to him by clicking here.
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