You Don't Argue Taste: Lessons from Mom

by David Kilimnick

Lesson #4

Mom taught me to not waste time arguing with people. That’s how she got me to go to sleep early.
It was about giving people their space. Allowing for their self-expression. In this Olam, world, there is a lot of selfishness. Not Mom. Mom, always focused on the other person's needs. Those needs never included myself skipping school.

(Vayikra 25:10) "And you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim freedom in the land for all who all its inhabitants. (Yovel) It shall be a Jubilee for you, and you shall return each man to his property, and you shall return each man to his family." And I am hoping that jerk gives me back the Mickey Mantle card he lied about when I was a kid.
In Yovel, slaves become free. Slaves are given their freedom of movement and are thus free. (Ramban). When people can move as they please, they are free.
The year of rest. The year of Yovel. The year of "Dror." Freedom. A year where kids shouldn't have to go to school.
"And man shall return to his inheritance." Returning to who you are. It is that return that gives Dror. Freedom. And my Mickey Mantle back.

Mom, Necha Bat Rav Chayim Zaydel vRiva Leah, passed away in a year of Yovel, Jubilee, after a life in this physical world of giving us all Nechama, comfort. She did this by allowing people to be who they are. By respecting what is theirs. Giving and accepting.
This acceptance of individuality gave people freedom of movement to be who they are as people, as Jews. Never wavering her commitment to Torah, she never used Torah to judge one’s personality. She used it to follow in Gd's ways, and to allow people to make very dumb decisions.
That gift of freedom and non-judgmental acceptance allows for celebration. And Rebbetzin Kilimnick gave everybody celebration.

About Taste You Don't Argue
Mommy always said "Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach." "When it comes to taste and smell, there isn't what to argue about." She said it in Hebrew, which made it sound Biblical. Which means it's true.
Mommy and Abba always used Hebrew or Yiddish to make a point. I learned at a young age that you can't argue anything said in another language. Especially when you don't understand it.
I learned later on that it has to be said in Hebrew. In English, the saying doesn't rhyme.  
Mom allowed people freedom. She allowed people to be who they are. And that is Kadosh.

Mommy repeated it a lot. It was Mom's mantra. Whenever giving advice. And it manifested itself. I had no idea what it meant. If she would've just said it in English. As I recently learned later, it means “other people are very stupid. Don’t waste your time arguing with them.”
For years, we had arguments. "I hate soccer." "Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach." "OK. Sounds good."
Mom thought I was getting a Jewish education. She thought I understood Hebrew. The only thing I learned in Jewish day school is that other Jewish kids also don't know Hebrew. I definitely don't understand transliteration. I now know that "Al" doesn't mean AI.
Al means "on." It might mean "about," or "when it comes to." With an Aleph it means "don't." It means too many things, and I stopped trying in fourth grade.

It was a matter of acceptance. Even when Mom came to my comedy and karaoke club, she accepted everybody. Along with Abba, she encapsulated a Yiddishkeit, a way of Jewish life, that people wanted to attach to. One in which they weren't judged for being a weirdo. A Yiddishkeit in which you could be free to serve Gd as somebody who has fondness of singing off tune.

Mom Wanted Me to Think of Others
When I think about other people, I like to think how they're wrong.
Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach is about thinking of the other. About making them happy. About appreciating their thoughts. Nothing to do with arguments. That's why we gave gifts all the time. They start arguing with you, you give them a little trinket of a rebbe, they stop arguing with you.
I was into my own stuff. Mom wanted me to not be selfish. To not be focused just on me.​ Which is why I did not make it to the NBA. 
Mom wanted me to grow up to not be like the eighth-grade jerk who traded me Mike Greenwell cards for a Mickey Mantle and told me I was getting a great deal. How could I argue with him. He was very happy getting the Mickey Mantle. Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach. If I only knew what it meant. The jerk had a penchant for stealing from people. Mom would've been proud of me if I had told her I gave away three thousand dollars because an eighth grader said, "You're getting such a good deal. I'm only happy, because I’m happy for you."

Mommy thought about other people, and she wanted me to think about other people. We even wrapped gifts. Half of my childhood I remember wrapping up stuff for other people. "Why do they get a Nintendo? I would like one of those." I think the Nintendo is enough. No. It has to be wrapped and personalized. A note, "This Nintendo is not for David."
It was about celebrating the other person's uniqueness, even if they liked carrots and peas in a can. To this day, I still don't know who's buying that stuff.
We would personalize the gift. Celebrate each unique person. 
Al Taam VaReaich. You get a gift you don't like, you can't argue. We thought it was a good idea. A gift specifically for you. My nephew hadn't learned that yet, when we gave him a train set for his birthday. He wanted the one with more colors. And so, he rightfully threw it and cursed out his Bubbie. 

Mom Was an Excellent Cook
Finally I moved to Israel. I realized the saying meant, "Don't argue with Sefardim about food." If they like it spicy, don't judge them.
Mom was an amazing cook. Great Taam. Loved her food. B"H my sister does a great job with Mom's food. Duck sauce chicken, amazing pies, quiches, Kugels, best lasagna, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I can go on with the different dishes that made me fat.
The only person who argued with Mom’s taste was a Sefardi guy who made a point of saying the food has no taste. Apparently, if it's not Schug, it has no taste. I guess he didn't understand the saying, and that Ashkenazim have different taste. And he would argue about it. This guy needs Schug in everything. He needs his lemon pie Charif. The guy needs his desserts spicy. "Oatmeal cookies with Schug and Hilbeh. Disgusting. Who eats like this?! Who eats sweat desserts?! Ashkenazim."
I will say, you can argue when somebody makes duck sauce chicken wrong. Even so, Mom never made somebody feel bad for their food.​ It was their taste. Even if they are Sefardic.

Mom would bake the pecan pie for people. Because somebody wanted it. Somebody had that taste. Everybody had their taste and everybody like pecan pie with chocolate chips. Mom was a master of chocolate chip usage.
And I can't cook.

Celebrate Others
Everybody has different tastes and there is so much beauty out there. This lesson of different tastes and celebrating uniqueness had me ending up on a lot of really bad dates.
I will always remember the uniqueness of the jerk that lied to a sixth grader and ripped him off. Taking his Mickey Mantle. I truly do see that guy's uniqueness as a Ganev.
​
Mom brought comfort to people celebrating their individual freedom to be themselves and to smell bad. Come to think of it, Mom never told anybody they smelled disgustingly bad.
At camp, when I was sleeping next to a guy that smelled disgusting, she gave me soap to give to him. His name was not on it. It should've been. The soap should've been inscribed, "Shower. You smell disgusting."  
Thanks to Mom, I didn't argue with him about his smell. I just gave him soap. It was always a matter of making people feel good. Feeling good for who they are. Make them feel good for smelling disgusting.
Mom taught us all to be a Nechama. Be a comfort. Don't be an argument. And in the case of the guy who never showered, Mom taught me to be a kind solution and passive aggressive.

Lessons Learned
Don't argue, unless if somebody says something really dumb. Something political. Like, "Obama and Biden were great presidents."
When it comes to dating, "Al Taam VaReiach Yesh LiHitvakeiach."

You notice people's taste, you bring them pecan pie, you bring them happiness. People have their own thing. Their own taste. Once you understand that you can be kind. Tell that to the Sefardi guy that's still complaining about Ashkenazi food. Ashkenazim uniquely still can't handle Charif. They can taste stuff that doesn’t burn their mouth.

Mom focused on others. That's how she brought comfort. True to her name, Necha.
You felt good when you were around my Mom. You were comfortable. You could celebrate. You could be yourself. You could be free. And she had a whole community celebrating.
When you recognize what belongs to people, when you recognize their identity, their family, their needs, their uniqueness, how much they messed up, that is when you make things holy. Mom lived a holy life.
Jubilee. Sounds close enough to jubilation. By allowing all the comfort of personal expression, Mom brought joy to this Olam.

And what was Mom's freedom. Her being. The laughter, the kindness, the smile, the listening, the giving, the Torah, being a comfort to all.
I learned so much from Mom's example and Mom's teachings. And I now know people are idiots. Don't waste time arguing with them.

The Yovel year came and I did not get my Mickey Mantle card back. That guy owes it to me. That thief. 
I will not get over the Mickey Mantle.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for Rebbetzin Nechie Kilimnick נחה בת חיים זיידאל וריבה לאה ע"ה and all the unique Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.