Friday Dispatch: Mothers, Birds, People
...and early birds, too!
Grow towards the sun. Don't worry about how it all fits together.
Friday greetings,
After lunch, my mom and I stopped by the first-of-the-season Longmeadow farmers’ market, where I picked up golden beets and a strawberry rhubarb pie to go with Shabbat dinner tonight. We sat and visited over coffee, dropped my market haul at my house, said hi to M.J. and brought them an iced matcha latte, then picked up a bag of birdseed for me to fill up our feeders later.
Now, before I tell you about the next thing, something you should know is that my mom’s Yiddish name is Feygele, (פֿײַגעלע), which means “little bird.”
Specifically, she has always identified with Hummingbirds most of all – and if you’ve met her, you will understand why. She’s light and quick on her feet, born to dance and hover and seek out color.
A few fun facts: Sometimes called “flying jewels,” Hummingbirds can visit up to 1,000 flowers in a single day. And though they travel up to 1,000 miles per year, they return to their favorite spots and – get this – remember every single one. (You guessed it: I went down a rabbit hole – or a Hummingbird hole? – while writing this. Did you know a group of Hummingbirds is a “charm”?!)
OK, so back to my parents’ apartment after our various outings and errands yesterday. We poured cold drinks and sat down on their small, screened-in porch, where my mom loves to watch the trees. And that is when she proceeded to have a lively conversation with a Northern Cardinal.
Naturally, I eavesdropped:
I mean, seriously, people! We’ll never know if the Cardinal was defending his territory or engaged in a curious cross-species courtship. In any case, it was so fun.
And then I thought to myself, “My mother is a bird.”
Which is when I suggested we write a poem together. We alternated lines.
Mother Bird
My mother is a bird.
She flies high in the sky.
I know it is her because
she’d never say die.She gardens at night
when the stars shine bright.
I know it is her because
she lets in the light.My mother has a song.
It lives in the trees.
The wind picks it up
and brings it to me.I wait for her presence.
I know she’ll be found.
My mother sings softly.
The birds circle round.
When my dad got back from his swim, I read it to him. Somehow, he decided we had written a poem about the Orpheus myth. I took the win and said, “Of course, we did that on purpose.” Ha.
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Before signing off, I would be remiss not to acknowledge the Air India Flight 171. My family has experienced this kind of shattering loss, and my heart breaks for everyone this tragedy has touched personally.
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Finally, I'm standing in solidarity with those in harm’s way in our own country. NO KINGS. If you are (or plan to be) out protesting, may you be safe.
I want to end today by quoting Representative Jamie Raskin (D-MD) – a Constitutional scholar – by way of
:“We have no kings here, we have no queens here, we have no emperors, we have no dictators, we have no despots, and we have no serfs and no slaves and no subjects, and none of us is a subject to Donald Trump. None of us is a subject to Mike Johnson. We are all citizens, those of us who aspire and attain to public office are nothing but the servants of the people. And the minute that somebody in public office thinks that they're a king, they're a queen, they're an emperor, they're a dictator, that is time for the people to evict, eject, reject, impeach, try, convict, and start all over again, because the most important words of our Constitution are the three first words of the Constitution: ‘We the people.’”
We, the mothers. We, the birds. We, the people.
Shabbat Shalom and love,
Jena
Calling all exhausted pigeons! Be the Early Bird instead!
🌿 One You, Three Portraits: A Creative Retreat 🌿
Together with portrait photographer Isabella Dellolio, I’m thrilled to invite you to spend a day this summer in beautiful Western Massachusetts. We designed this creative retreat to help you reconnect with yourself through writing, art, and photography.
- Join us for a day of expression, reflection, and deep creative presence
- Early bird registration ends June 30
- Spots are limited & filling up!
📅 Date: August 21, 2025 | 10 AM – 4 PM
📍 Location: Woolman Hill Retreat Center, South Deerfield, MA
💫 What’s included:
- Guided writing and art-making time with Jena
- Individual portrait session with Isabella
- Catered lunch and snacks
- Relaxed and fun company
- A signed copy of Jena’s new book (early-bird registrants only)
- A digital, high-resolution photo of you for personal or professional use
Everything about this, fellow Schwartz. I am also an exhausted pigeon. Wish I lived closer for an in person class! Also, have you read Terry Tempest Williams memoir, When Women Were Birds? It’s a lot about her mother… and journals she left behind. From my recall, I loved it. Shabbat Shalom. 💙
I am reading this several days late, but I must tell you how absolutely delightful it was to watch your mom's conversation with the bird. I'm still smiling! It is also fun to see that mannerisms and facial expressions do follow down generations; if I hadn't known she is your mom, I'd have guessed it. :)