Table of Contents

Minda - entered October 24 to November 18, 2007 - so what happens when Mum becomes a lifer in prison?

Rivka - September 11 to October 9, 2007 - an ultraOrthodox girl experiences problems adjusting to mainstream life.

Tzeporah - August 10 to September 10, 2007 - a refugee from the past finds it necessary to keep a low profile.

Caroline - May 7 to 14, 2007 - so what happens when both parents die of drug overdose, leave you growing up with Grandma?

All other items - last full table of contents was published April 2007. For ease of finding, please scroll down at right and click on "April 2007".

Minda 14

During the regime of Ms Birnbaum, just under half of inmates had been on mandatory counselling programs. These were of course the ones with the most heavy duty symptomology. Not surprisingly, a large number of them detest counselling, prefer living in a state of denial.
Those doing counselling on a voluntary basis have an almost frivolous nature towards it. They tend to be largely attention seekers. It's tough not to laugh when someone seriously asserts that choosing the wrong clothes for a high school dance (and the perceived rejection) led to her life of crime. Most normal people get over stuff like that.
Warden was well meaning offering to make counselling voluntary during this interim period. And yes, she privately admitted to me after that she'd goofed.
But democracy being what it is, that's what people had voted on.
At least at JFS the stakes were real. Real marriages and real credit ratings on the line. Here and now, it assumes comic opera proportions.
When we learn Ms Birnbaum will be returning to another place in the prison system, my morale sinks to the bottom of the deepest ocean trench.
What came next was not a halucination fueled by booze or prescription meds, that I can guarantee. No booze here at all. Oh yes, it's easy to smuggle in, but no one wants it. Their ten year old physiology reacts to it with extreme violence. Similarly, there's only one person here on a prescription and that ain't me.
Nowadays I avoid the Day Room like the bubonic plague. Too many of my pseudo serious counsellees jump on me. In over earnest tones, they expound yet further on the high school dance or such.
Nowadays when I lounge back in an easy chair, it's always the one in my room.
I feel momentarily dizzy. Reopening my eyes, I discover myself and chair are now in a sci fi setting.
There's a dozen green men and women, four feet tall in uniform with officer insignia.
The youngest male speaks, in a metallic tone as if coming through a translator, "I am First Lieutenant Xero Xavier Xar. You are in the officers wardroom aboard SS Gargantuan. And you are Ms Minda Zilberg?"
"Yes Lt."
"I would state this translator is not 100% reliable with Earthling nuance. If I should say something offensive, it is certainly not my intent, merely progamming shortcomings. I apologize for not offering refreshment. It would take testing to determine whether your altered metabolism would accept our beverages."
"That's ok Lt."
"Ms Zilberg to begin. SS Gargantuan is the single most prestigious vessel of our anthropological fleet. Just try to guess why, I mean you being a counsellor and all."
"Not too hard to guess Lt. Everywhere else in what is your known universe the sentient life forms have a cool rationality to them. Easy to study their societies, easy to categorize. None can match the Earthlings in their sheer psychotic chronic dysfunctional disorder and mess."
The laughter of all present assures me I've hit the target with at least some precision.
Lt gives a boyish grin, "so glad you understand, it makes the rest of it easier. Gathered here is an entirely informal Council of Justice. And ah well, it isn't aimed at you, but at me. I have sinned, and greatly. But nothing which would reach my formal file. These good people are like two nanoseconds away from voting me off this ship, onto some backwater research. That is, unless I aid you and quickly too."
"Why me Lt?"
A female voice, older, obviously used to a lot of authority, got the most braid on her uniform, "it is the judgment of this Council you are the one Earthling who has created the worst screwed up mess."
I don't know whether I should feel flattered or insulted.
Lt resumes, "to satisfy this Council, I must get you a fresh start and in a way considered safe by our techies. In a few minutes, you will be in the body of another Earthling. This person is now in a state of clinically dead, brought about by a fever. You will recover from this fever and quickly, retain all your memories plus this person's."
"Thank you so much Lt."
"Ms Zilberg, please take my advice and refrain from any further murders. It is against our policy to ever aid the same Earthling twice."
Drily I reply, "yes Lt."
Grin, "sorry if that sounded heavy. Your body will be discovered in your room. The autopsy will doubtless convince the prison authorities it is a genuine heart attack. Good luck in your new venture."
And then, I black out.
When I awake next morning, it's in a different room, with a burnt out post fever feeling.
Dad stares into his paper at breakfast, looking near homicidally angry. And why? Doubtless the hungover look on older brother. Mum snaps to get in gear, eat faster.
Taking school bag and lunch I exit, meet an East Indian girl of 10 or 11. Memory says her name is Lata.
Looks at me evaluating, "you feeling ok?"
"Think I had a bit of fever last night Lata."
"Explains why you don't seem yourself. So, you thought it'd be easier to just go to school and snooze there than to risk the Spanish Inquisition from your Mum."
We both laugh and that is the end of her scrutiny of me.
Upon arrival at school we join a group including my daugher Minda and that other TO girl. Oh yes, Rachel, gambling scandal in the family.
Lata grins, passes a half dozen manga comics to Rachel, "and now, your turn for a funny family story."
Rachel flashes a wicked smile, "this uncle of mine at U of T, math prof, wierdest of the lot. Did a lot of nocturnal wandering. And yet not drinking or doing drugs.
"One night, cops caught him in the act. Had a master key, opening parking meters. Got a search warrant, found 88 grand worth of coins hidden in a corner of his basement."
Lowd howls of laughter.
"Never did charge him. Full restitution plus his agreement to visit them no mind counsellors at Jewish Family Services."
More laughter.
Oh well, it's a fresh start. I won't repeat my mistakes.
And yes, I'll keep an eye on Minda, make sure she behaves.
Will I ever tell her who I really am? Go on, think I'm that nuts?
The bell rings. Feeling more optimistic than I have in ages, I go in.
Same class as Minda. Should be easy to do my parental duty. Only one problem. Don't overdo things or she might catch wise.

Minda 13

The Warden rings a small bell and Day Room conversations taper off.
"First, I'd like to thank y'all for attending. I'll keep this meeting short and hopefully sweet.
"As you are aware, this prison is seen as the ultimate backwater. We've been unable to get a replacement counsellor.
"For anyone who hates appointments, that's good news. But I am informed at least some of you do wish to see a replacement counsellor.
"So here's my plan. Minda is a real genuine counsellor, Masters Degree, years of experience with Jewish Family Services.
"She won't get money off this. Any after tax salary gets donated to her charity of choice.
"Now the critical element. Appointments are not to be compulsory. Your choice whether to book or not. But if you have booked, as a matter of courtesy, you must attend.
"So we vote on the plan Friday. Questions or comments?"
"Uh ma'am that is just like so oppressive, so regimented, so dictatorial. I mean, why can't we just drop in?"
Warden smiles, "it is not intended to regiment you the client, but to regiment the counsellor's time. With your idea, some time slots would have six people showing; other, none."
"Uh ma'am, we can't vote Friday, it's the 13th."
Warden laughs cheerfully, "my friend, take a good look around you. Where are you right now? Can you imagine worse luck than simply being here?"
"Do you realize ma'am, there's people here so superstitious they don't leave their rooms on a Friday the 13th? Get friends to bring a tray from the cafeteria."
"I'm sorry, I had no idea of that. Ok, so how about next Monday?"
"No way ma'am, it's Full Moon, meaning you could get lotsa wierd comments in that ballot box."
Everyone laughs.
"All right then, how about Tuesday?" Pause, "ok, no objections, Tuesday is vote day."

Minda 12

Rachel and I arrive at school a few minutes early. Lata, standing in a group of a half dozen girls, waves, calls out to join them.
As Lata talks, she's unslinging and opening her school pack. Theatric tone, "now it so happens I'm the only one in our class to have an older sister. Mosta the time she's a right royal pain in the ass. However, she does have one redeeming feature, one thing only which makes her bearable." Her pause indicates I should join the theatrics.
I guffaw, "gwan with you. From what I heard, none of them have anything good about them."
This sets everyone laughing.
"TaDa, this would prove you wrong." She passes me a plastic grocery bag which contains a half dozen manga comics."
As I open this she speaks, "hey, don't worry they're a bit ratty. Been through a lotta hands, her friends and mine. Look at the bright side, these here are the 13+, stuff they wouldn't let you buy at the store."
Someone else says, "ye-ah those 10+ are soooo for babies."
Lata continues, "and if Mum ever caught her giving me the 16+, it'd be big ructions."
Very warmly Rachel and I thank her. We're well aware of what this means. Much more than just an offer to lend comics, an offer of friendship, done publicly even.
Lata grins, "give em back when you're done. I'm chief librarian, keep track of who all has seen what. And now, the price. Nobody but nobody gets comics for free. This time, Minda gives a humorous story about family, I mean not connected with all that bad stuff; next time, Rachel."
I recognize it for what it is, a group bonding experience.
I grin, "all right then, now see there is this place called Val David, about an hour drive north from Montreal, summer resort. Two reasons why Dad never woulda bought there. First, everything mostly half a million and up, outa our league. Second, mosta them is Hasids, us the other kind of ultraOrthodox. And contrary to what you may believe, they sooo don't get along.
"Anyhow, the parents took a rental for two weeks. One day Dad and I are about and stop in at this typical French Canadian diner. Now he's a real showoff, was I mean, he's dead now. Real pretend sophisticate. Decided he was gonna order in French, and his was lots worse than mine. Well, he wanted to try poutine, it came out sounding like putain."
Roars of laughter, everyone knows it means hooker.
"Fast as I could, I corrected him several times. But the waitress, well she was so red with anger, I don't think she even heard me. Bout five seconds later, this big burly cook actually grabs Dad by the collar."
More laughter.
"With one hand he was gripping Dad's collar, with the other he just easy took my hand. Walked us out. At the door, told Dad never to come back. Smiled at me, said it was ok, he knew I'd done the right thing. I was welcome back, but only if I came with someone else. Never told Mum about it, but a few days later she and I dropped in there. We were treated like royalty and they wouldn't even let her pay the bill. She never did figure how that happened."
Oohs and ahs. I realize we've come a huge distance today. Maybe things will be ok here.

Minda 11

Aunt Naomi's hate glare chases Rachel out the door. Immediately she goes into the bathroom, begins moving all but the barest essentials to her bedroom.
At first this mystifies me. Soon I understand her train of thought. Seeing the father embezzled, she thinks the daughter will steal our bath stuff. Sick or what?
Whoa does that mean she thinks I'll morph into a killer? Maybe she sleeps with a pistol under her pillow, just in case.
Next morning as we meet on the way to school, Rachel smiles ruefully, "so, what happened after I left?"
I blush hotly, "ah well that is she vacuumed everything outa the bathroom, hid it in her bedroom. Musta thought you'd steal it."
"Look Minda, I've already received her message loud and clear, ain't going back. Meaning if you and my Mum don't hit it off, we'll be hanging out together in the Public Library."
Uneasily I ask, "so, what do I expect?"
She laughs mirthlessly, "one of those good news bad news jokes. Bad news is the splashy condo in TO and the summer cottage were taken by the bank. Business in the hands of the receivers. Good news, least we don't starve. She's one of those bureaucrats who can work online from home." Another mirthless laugh, "seeing how much we're hated in TO, here is a nice place to do it."
I reply, "to say nothing of cheaper accommodations."
I go in expecting the absolute worst, yet none of my fears materialize.
Her Mum is cheerful, warm, conveys two obvious messages without saying so in so many words. First, she's delighted her daughter found a friend. Second, even more happy that friend just happens to be Jewish. Not one word on all the scandal.
I find myself hugely liking her and knowing Rachel and I will be able to hang out there comfortably.

Minda 10

(Meanwhile, back at the prison)
I don't like the smart ass look on the clerk, knowing look saying I'm about to be the pigeon. Wiping her smirk, "Countess Dreckula (staff nickname for Warden) will see you in a few minutes."
As I wait, I review recent events. For the life of me, I cannot recall anything remotely resembling trouble.
Warden affably waves me to a chair, "so good of you to make time in your busy schedule for me." (Said with a straight face, go figure.)
Uneasy smile, "when you are in my position Minda, you become an expert at improv. Nothing ever works worth a crap, always gotta patch up, make do."
The sick feeling in my stomach tells me exactly where she's headed.
"Now, to clarify, I'm not blaming you. It just so happened the nervous breakdown was while you were in her office. Now you and I both know some of the crime motivations are quite shocking. Which is where you were at the time. And you and I both know she had unresolved problems out there in the so called real world."
I grooan inwardly, here it comes.
"Now Minda, imagine my surprise to discover in your file you were a counsellor out in the so called real world."
I hasten to protest, "not that sort ma'am. Say 80% marital and 20% debt counselling, they are related in most cases."
Dry reply, "and by sheer coincidence, none of our inmates experience either marital or consumer debt woes, not now anyway."
We both laugh.
She leans forward, over earnest tone, "now listen Minda, as far as the federal prison system is concerned this is the absolute back of beyond. Nobody but nobody will touch the job on a replacement basis."
"Is that due to location or the unique clientele, ma'am?"
She sighs, "sad to say, both. You can't receive a salary, but can donate after tax earnings to any charity of your choice. Think of the opportunity, to do what you feel is important in the world."
"Aren't we missing one important factor, ma'am? How much confidence would the inmates have in humble moi?"
Laugh, "ok, I take that as a challenge. I'm declaring a secret ballot vote. If 2/3 or more support you, you do the job, end of story."
I grooooan inwardly, but what exactly can you do?
Nancy is on DRO. Flopping in a chair near her, I pour out my tale of woe.
She shrugs, "now how in the name of Hell would anyone accept advice from that nutcase Ms Birnbaum? You on the other hand, they respect bigtime."
"I sense an 'and' in that."
"And a deputation of inmates has trekked to Mount Olympus, suggesting to Capt Bligh the very idea." Laugh, "come on now, do you honestly believe our fearless Warden is capable of any original thought, of dreaming up this all on her own?"
We both laugh.

(Meanwhile, back at Aunt Naomi's)
Rachel tries to sound overly casual (and fails), "so, you think you are the only one stuck in the merde?"
I raise an eyebrow.
Bitter tone, "I suppose you wonder where my father is. Took the same easy exit yours did, mixing booze with pills. Left Mum and me to face all the crap."
"What crap?"
Incredulous look, "you don't know? I know for a fact your Aunt does, that dirty look she gave me."
"Let's just say she and I have a problematic relationship, neither is into sharing much depth."
"He ah well that is VLT (Video Lottery Terminal) addiction. Bad enough his business flushed down the drain. He was stupid enough to drain the entire reroofing fund for the synagogue."
I groan aloud, "not as serious as my problem, but every darn bit as unforgivable. If you and I live to 80, neither of us are gonna live this down."
"So, that makes us friends. Now you understand why my Mum was ok with me hanging out with you."

Minda 9

After a time my initial optimism fades. Yes it's wonderful no one here appears antiSemitic. Even more wonderful no one yaps about my infamous mother.
But still, I can see I just am not making any friends. They're friendly as opposed to hostile, but still seem afraid of me (go figure).
Now Aunt Naomi has me a bit concerned. Whenever I overhear phone conversations, it's usually medical woes. And yes I realize lotsa grownups exagerate for effect.
Still I have no way of judging this myself. Merely being a doctor's kid doesn't mean you know all this stuff. Not like he ever even talked to me much.
Better to err on the side of caution. And so it is I just am not forthcoming on any topic I'd consider as stressful for her.
The first report card comes. I hold my breath as I pass it over.
Her eyes scan it, "good," is all she says. My relief is palpable, now I'm breathing again.
I recognize the new girl Rachel that the principal delivers to our class. Daughter of a TO businessman, so what's she doing here, especially with that freaked out look?
Her eyes search the class, light up with recognition when she sees me. Recess time she is unshakable. Time to lay down the law, "now Rachel listen up, for your own good. My mother was involved in killing your set of people. Meaning, your parents will go ballistic if they discover you hang out with me."
Stricken look, "only my Mum is here."
I sense some big story behind this.
That evening I mention her to Aunt Naomi, whose knowing look indicates she is privy to the big secret. Still, not like she'll share it with people my age.
Next morning, the king of all surprises. Rachel smiles easily, "I told my Mum about you."
Ah ha, am I right or what?
"She says no big deal. Not you who did it. Better a Jewish friend than none at all."
I groan inwardly, but how do you argue with that?
After school we're in my room at Aunt Naomi's. I'm lying on the bed and she's lounging back in a chair with her feet up.
Rachel asks, "ever visit the prison, I mean after your Mum did the time machine thing?"
"Didn't want to, but Aunt insisted. Zero security roundabout. Anyone wanders in or out. After all, not like those people could go anywhere if they bothered to escape."
We both laugh.
"So there I am, going into this Day Room. Didn't even recognize her, they all look pretty much alike to me, a sort of manufactured, not real, look. Now try sitting there and talking when the neighbors are talking of gruesome ritualistic murders in a Satanic cult."
"So Minda, not going back?"
"Not on your life, too freaky."
"Go on, don't think you fool me so easy. Lots more to it than that."
I blush, "all right smart ass. Everyone in the place, inmate and staff, acts like Mum is the Queen of Siam." Blush hotter, "she's still proud of having done it."
"And there's more."
I take a deeeep breath, the better to control my overriding urge to grab Rachel by the throat and. Ok, back to being calm, I say in level tone, "yep, I hate her for sticking me with this." And of course, by now I'm crying.

Minda 8

The New York Times website recently did a poll on who was the most famous Canadian still alive.
First came Minda Zilberg, serial killer, with 1,182,381 votes. (No surprise there, virtually all the New York area Jews wrote to the Canadian Embassy, demanding reinstatement of the death penalty.)
Second, Greenpeace activist/stuntman Bud Buckley with 287,124. (No surprise, it was a death defying feat on the Empire State Building.)
Third, hockey great Marcel Tremblay with 121,486. (Sad, you'd think he'd get more, having scored 97 goals last season).
Fourth, the Canadian Prime Minister with 13 votes. (A bit of a surprise, I didn't know that many Americans even knew who he was.)
A dozen others garnered less votes.
During the high profile trial of the famous killer, there were two completely different reactions in Canada.
In Jewish Canada, daily rallies in Montreal and Toronto.
Goy Canada was merely entertained, titillated. But since none of the victims were goy, as soon as the trial over, it was old hat.
No one in Goy Canada was overly upset about how the killer selected her victims. Minda had been a counsellor at Jewish Family Services (mostly marital). A number of her very own clients showed up on the victim list. As well, numerous patients from her husband's medical practice. Sick or what? I can well imagine the prison counsellors having a field day probing all her phobias.
So, what happened to Minda's family? Her husband took a leave of absence from his practice. Now generally authorities are quite lenient on death certificates. A person can be on 18 prescription drugs which forbid alcohol and still drink. As long as no note is found, they usually refrain from calling it suicide. When that person is a doctor, who should know better, the farce assumes comic opera proportions. Yet that's what they did, verdict of accidental poisoning.
Which leaves only the daughter alive, also named Minda, aged ten. As lack of luck would have it, she happens to be in a class that's half Jewish. Oy! But she doesn't have to stay long.
Family Court awards great aunt Naomi custody of me. Timing could not have been better. Just in the act of retiring, she sells her condo for an astronomical capital gain.
And so it is she and I move to a smaller city with almost no Jews, barely enough for a minyan. (And they're of the variety where we wouldn't be caught dead in the synagogue.)
Someone up there likes me, bigtime!
The predictable happens. First couple days kids ask me various questions about it. Still, I can sense their almost total lack of interest and it soon fades.
They don't even view me a Jew. In fact, I am regularly told, with a good bit of disgust, that I am a typical Toronto smart ass. Refreshing or what?
I consider myself hugely fortunate. Every kid here has some derogatory label or other. Mine could have been lots worse.