The Garden Mission A Grandfather's Labor of Love – A True Story

In July 2024, I took advantage of a sale and purchased a green 8'×2'×2' metal raised garden bed on Amazon. That afternoon, Jacob and I spent an hour putting it together. After identifying a mistake, we took it apart and assembled it again. Upon completion, we carried it out the basement door and placed it in what we thought was an optimal spot in our backyard. (A note here: our house is surrounded by tall trees, thus limiting the available direct sunlight.)

I spent hours online searching for the best soil mixture for planting vegetables in raised beds—topsoil, homegrown compost, worm castings, perlite, and peat moss—and then spent hours over the following weeks combining the ingredients and filling the bed. Having fully filled the frame, I decided it wasn't in an optimal location. So, I emptied the soil out, moved the empty frame to another location, carted the soil in multiple wheelbarrow trips, and refilled it.

On a Sunday morning in February, I drove to Home Depot and purchased all the necessities for starting seeds in my basement: Jiffy planting pots, Jiffy Seed Starter mix, seed packets of three varieties of tomatoes, peas, pole beans, carrots, zucchini, and cucumbers, plus a full-spectrum UV light fixture. I hung this in our basement, moved a folding table under it, lined up the planting pots, filled them with soil, gently placed seeds in each one, and turned on the light. I dutifully watered these daily. Within two weeks, sprouts emerged, and I watched in amazement as they emerged and grew.

After the last frost in April, I transplanted these seedlings to the raised garden bed, where they either did not grow past plant infancy or died immediately. I returned to Home Depot and bought three varieties of tomato plants, two varieties of green peppers, and pots of zucchini and cucumber. I planted these in the garden bed described above. It quickly became apparent that these plants were not receiving sufficient sunlight. I dug them up, set them aside, emptied the soil from the planter, moved the planter to a sunnier spot, and conveyed the soil, one wheelbarrow load at a time, to refill the planter. I returned to Home Depot and, once again, purchased varieties of tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and cucumbers. These were planted in the raised garden in its new location, which, as far as I could determine, received the minimum daily allotment of sunlight required for growth.Within two weeks, sprouts emerged, and I watched in amazement as they emerged and grew.

Within two weeks, sprouts emerged, and I watched in amazement as they emerged and grew.

Within two weeks, sprouts emerged, and I watched in amazement as they emerged and grew.

Slowly, slowly, tomatoes emerged. A yellow pepper appeared but was immediately eaten by some unknown and unwanted invader. By late July, two tomatoes were beginning to turn from green to pink, and in the first week of August, they seemed ready for picking. Within two weeks, sprouts emerged, and I watched in amazement as they emerged and grew.

It was just that week that my two grandchildren arrived (with their parents) for their annual summer stay at our home. Two days after their arrival, Bina and I went to the backyard. I guided her to a tomato, she tugged it gently, it detached from the vine, and we brought it to the kitchen and displayed it to all.

Mission accomplished.

More Advice from ER Docs

A recent article in the New York Times cited "Six More Things E.R. Doctors Wish You'd Avoid." Among these was "never mow the lawn in open-toed shoes", which make me cringe just to think about it.

I thought it would be an important public service if I proposed four additional activities that should be avoided. While these were rejected by the Times editorial staff and led to a visit to my home by the Sandy Springs Police, I share them, nevertheless.

1. Going to Synagogue

Going to shul on Shabbat or other holidays is safer now that all our synagogues have automatic gates requiring that you enter a code generated each day using a formula based on gematria, and numerous armed guards brandishing weapons. Here in the south, there is also a growing movement to have congregants "carry" . Knowing that the advanced age of the majority of members of my synagogue requires thick glasses and hearing aids, I am dubious that this practice will in any way make us any safer. I believe that the only reasons congregants should carry weapons in shul are: (1) if they really want a specific Aliyah, for instance, the ones describing the sacrifice of Isaac or rape of Dina or (2) if there is a risk that there will be no more egg salad at the kiddush when they reach their place in line.

I digress. The true danger of being in synagogue is being called for Hagbah—the lifting of the Torah after the reading has been concluded. Emergency room physicians report a growing number of cases of male Jews with severe hernias or dislocated shoulders after attempting to jerk and lift a Torah scroll with 10 columns of sacred text unrolled. While this demonstration of masculine Judaism was notable in USY youth groups, it is, perhaps, a greater health risk later in life—as would be the required post-Torah-dropping 40-day fast.

2. Legos

As a young father, I was surprised to learn how far a child could push a Lego up his or her nose. The doctor always found this humorous, and the receptionist smiled warmly as she told me that removing deeply embedded Legos from a child’s nasal passages was not covered by United Healthcare.

As a grandfather, I am, once again, discovering just how dangerous Legos can be. This past summer, in the hours after our grandchildren and their parents departed our home after their weeklong stay, I ventured into the basement playroom to establish some sense of order among the apocalyptic remains. It was my failure to wear steel-toed boots that led me to the emergency room with a Lego firmly embedded in my foot. Six hours later, I returned home with the bloodied Lego enclosed in a plastic bag. If there was one bright side, it was that, unlike every private medical insurance plan in America, Medicare covers everything—including Lego removal. There are some benefits to growing old.

3. Going to Home Depot

I happen to love my last name "Raphael," which means "God will heal ." I don't mind that it is repeatedly misspelled by strangers (e.g., Rayfield, Rafel, etc.), and I will calmly respond that it is spelled like the Renaissance painter—or, depending on who I am talking to, "the Ninja Turtle."

I also find it humorous and charming that perhaps half of the commercials on my TV are now in Spanish. My assumption is that this has more to do with the micro-targeting of ads and the assumption that I am Latin American, than with a growing sense of inclusion in our country.

This was all well and good until I was swept up in an ICE raid while attempting to purchase annuals for our backyard garden and duct tape to repair my garden hose. After being thrown to the ground (and regretting that I did not have a Subway tuna sandwich available), I breathlessly explained to the masked agents that I am a third-generation American whose grandparents emigrated from Hungary. Given the screaming in the background and the loud buzzing of tasers, they assumed I had said "Haiti," over-tightened a plastic tie around my wrists, and shoved me into a windowless van they had just rented from….. Home Depot.

I was released from a darkened cell five days later when my wife, rabbi, president of my shul, and a very elderly mohel came to vouch for my Jewish identity. Most Americans who get caught up in these illegal incarcerations are not as lucky.

This is a blot on our nation. I wonder how our country would fare if my grandfather, who actually came from Romania, had been denied entry or sent home. Once settled on the Lower East Side, he popularized garlic powder and founded J. Raphael and Sons, importers and grinders of spices—a company that provided spices for most of the pastrami and corned beef makers in New York, every pickle stand on the Lower East Side, and many of the bagel and bialy bakers in the city. Our nation would be less rich and far less tasty had our country been disinclined to "send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me” and "lift its lamp beside the golden door" at that time. His is just one of hundreds of thousands of immigrant stories that have made our country great.

Hints of Animus

I stopped by an upscale coffee shop on my way home yesterday. I asked the barista for a recommendation for a light roast, and he handed me a bag of Guatemala Buena Vista. The flavor was listed as follows: Cream cheese Danish, dried apricot, orgeat (Wikipedia: Orgeat syrup is a sweet syrup made from almonds and sugar with a little rose water and/or orange flower water).

I like coffee. I grind beans at home, using a Hario Japanese drip cone (The NY Times Wirecutter runner up for the best pour-over coffee maker) and an AeroPresss Coffee Maker (see NY Times “36 Best Gifts for Coffee Lovers) when I travel. Using a goose-neck kettle, I pour 195 - 205° water slowly, rotating around the Hario organic paper filter to ensure the full bouquet can emerge.

But I couldn’t taste this coffee’s cheese Danish or apricot and wouldn’t have recognized the orgeat even if I knew what it was. I wonder if, back at the coffee shop after a long day of making floral designs in large lattes, barista sit around a table making fun of us. “Okay, how about this: “Flavor: black pepper, Saigon Cinnamon, pot roast, and recently worn Addidas.”

Another thought, what if we could describe people in this manner. For instance:

David: Dyslexic, overtones of angst, hints of anxiety disorder, mild and mostly inoffensive sense of humor.

Some others:

Donald Trump: Narcissist, strong sociopath overtones, grifter, hints of orange rinds.

Stephen Miller: Xenophobe, misanthrope, notes of animus and malignancy.

Robert F. Kennedy, Jr.: Larval pork tapeworm, anti-science overtones, strong hints of trypanophobia[1].

Pam Bondi:…….not a clue

Linda McMahon: Dirty gym shorts.

Marjorie Taylor-Green: Rotten peach, peanut shell, coloring book.

Please share your own.

[1] Trypanophobia is the intense fear of needles. Specifically, people with trypanophobia fear needles in medical settings. They may avoid getting vaccines, blood draws or intravenous (IV) fluids. Although needle phobia is common, it can have severe consequences….FOR AMERICA!!!