72 YEARS AND COUNTING

This year, I turned 72…quadruple chai, as we say in Jewish tradition. It’s not just a number; it’s a blessing x 4. Four times life. Four lifetimes, almost. In Hebrew, the word chai (חי) means life. And in gematria, (Jewish numerology), chai adds up to 18. It’s why we give gifts in multiples of 18. It’s why we toast with “L’Chaim” to life. It’s a small word, but it holds the weight of everything we strive for: vitality, purpose, connection, spirit.

So, what does it mean to live a chai life? What have I learned from living a quadruple chai life?

Chai is about choosing life, again and again. At Jewish Senior Life, living the chai life has even greater meaning. This is quite different from the high life…those crazy paths we followed in our moronic youth.

In Deuteronomy, we’re told: “Uvacharta ba’chayim” “choose life.” Not once, but every day. Living Jewishly has taught me that life is not something that just happens to us, it’s something we choose, nurture, and sanctify with our actions.

At 72, I find myself choosing life in new ways. I remind myself to choose gratitude over grievance. Wonder over worry. Curiosity over certainty. And sometimes, rest over rush. I admit to having less patience these days for most of the nonsense we all deal with. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s wisdom, or maybe it’s just knowing what really matters… things like family and friends and connection…. I do love my Facebook birthdays…  and having the ability to hold the world in my fingertips on my tiny phone computer…it’s a blessing and a curse.

Chai is about community. A chai life is not lived alone. It’s made richer through family, friends, and even fascinating strangers. Jewish life is communal life. We mourn together, celebrate together, eat together… especially eat together. Around the table, we share stories and grow closer, because of them, and through them. Recipes for adventures, travel, experiences….

At 72, I’ve come to see that the measure of a life isn’t just what we’ve done, but how often we’ve shown up for others. That’s where the real blessings live. What inspires and impresses me are the ways our donors and volunteers show up for the residents and support our causes at JSL. I am filled with gratitude.

Chai is about remembering. Being Jewish means carrying memory of ancestors, traditions, and stories that shape our identity. I’ve lived long enough to be both a keeper of memory and a bridge to the next generation. Living a chai life means holding the past in one hand and the future in the other. It means telling the stories, even the hard ones, so they aren’t lost.

Chai is about joy. Sometimes people think Judaism is all rules and rituals. But at its core, is joy. It’s song and dance and challah and wine and the simple pleasures of a good kugel. Living to 72 doesn’t mean the joy lessens. In fact, it grows. I now know how precious a moment of joy is. I don’t wait for big occasions anymore. I find joy in smaller, quieter things: the way my grandchildren say my name, the sound of a familiar melody, the first sip of hot coffee on a cold morning. I drive to my office truly happy as I listen to music or podcasts, always learning something I can use or pass along to others.

To life, then and now… Living a chai life doesn’t mean it was always easy. It means it was always sacred. Chai is also about holding complexity. At 72, I worry about the world my children and grandchildren are growing up in. The pace, the pressure, the politics… none of it feels simple anymore. I see headlines that make my heart sink. I watch communities’ fracture over things that used to bring us together. I miss the way things used to be, not because everything was perfect, but because there was a sense of shared rhythm, of slower days and closer ties.

There’s grief in witnessing change, especially when it feels like we’re losing pieces of what made life feel full. But even that grief is a form of love. We only mourn what mattered. So, I let myself feel it and then I choose, again, to keep showing up with hope. Living a chai life doesn’t mean ignoring the brokenness. It means believing we can still be part of the healing.

At 72, I still have questions. I still get things wrong. But I also still laugh. I’m still learning. I still love it. That, to me, is living Jewishly.

So, here’s to 72 years of life, and whatever comes next. May it be filled with meaning, connection, and yes…more life. You were in my thoughts just before I blew out my candles.

L’Chaim to all of us…

Shabbat Shalom.