What's in a Fridge?

Ancient wisdom from modern appliances

We named this refrigerator Laverne, as in Laverne & Shirley, because the double doors and bottom freezer reminded me of her standard sweater set and pencil skirt. So I had someone make us that large L in her honor. And yes, we’re magnet people, but that’s a story for another time.

G-d, we are so blessed. I know this to be true. And yet, I also accept that I can use a reminder here and there. Likely more often than that.

That’s the first thought that came to mind as I sat down to write this post.

Years ago, our washing machine pointed it out.

Our sons were still small, and their laundry seemed to multiply like mushrooms after a rain storm. I bemoaned the fact that I spent half (okay, maybe not half, but a lot) of my time in the laundry room. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t scale the Everest of dirty clothing. Then out of the blue, my brain switched gears and I found myself gratefully running the third load of the day to the tune of How very lucky you are to have children who need you to keep them in clean underwear.

Now, it’s the refrigerator doing the talking.

Many of you have already seen or read about Ilana Dayan’s heart-wrenching interview with recently released hostage Eli Sharabi on Keshet 12. If not, I cannot recommend it enough. He describes how he was given only half a pita, maybe a small bowl of pasta each day, which explains, in part, why he emerged from captivity nearly unrecognizable.

I’ve watched the video countless times and can’t stop thinking about it. Eli’s words — moving, powerful, godly — continue to echo in my head. Also in my heart and in no small way my stomach.

“People should really think hard when they open a fridge at home.

It’s the whole world.

It’s the whole world to just open a fridge.

The very concept of a free man who can simply take a fruit out of it. Or a vegetable. Or an egg. Or water. Or a slice of bread.”

I’ll never look at Laverne the same way again.

*

Unfortunately, her freezer has been on the fritz for weeks already. Mark, a repairman originally from the Urals, came out two weeks ago to diagnose the problem. He listed various parts — sensors and such — that needed replacement.

He returned today to install them. He potchkeyed around a bit, removing the freezer drawers, pulling the refrigerator away from the wall, and unboxing the parts. I ran down to throw in a load of wash when I heard him shout “Ma’am” from the kitchen. Ma’am from a repairman has the same ring to it as a memorable call from one of our son’s preschool teachers. “Mrs. Ukraincik, Everything is fine, but which ER do you prefer?”

So I wasn’t surprised when Mark told me, “I have bad news that is also maybe good news.”

Oh no, I eked out.

“Your refrigerator is not repairable. The freezer isn’t working and there’s an internal refrigerant leak also. Now we have to call the insurance company about getting you a new one.”

Thank G-d, for extended warranties. Always buy the extended warranty!

Anyway, in G-d’s world, there are no coincidences. This is what I think about as I begin the wait for the repair company to notify the warranty company to negotiate with GE. I experience a fleeting moment of joy, knowing I will not have to clean the old refrigerator for Pesach.

Next, I spend ten minutes removing the magnets from all three sides of our defunct refrigerator, as if Laverne II might arrive at any moment. Last off is the text of Mizmor l’Todah, Psalm 100, which I’ve tried to recite daily since September. It’s a reminder that no matter what’s going on in my life, or during these difficult times for the Jewish people, we still have so much to be grateful for.

Over the course of the afternoon, I schlepp everything downstairs to our second refrigerator, which is more or less empty most of the time, but fills up around the holidays. HOW BLESSED WE ARE! I shout — to myself, to Laverne, to the spare refrigerator, to G-d, to the universe, to the washing machine for good measure.

And when I’m hungry later for a clementine, I open the door, grab one, and cry.

*

Thanks for reading, my dear people.

Love,
Merri