celebrations, customs/rituals, health, parties

Bob Dylan Was Right: The Times They Are a-Changin’

And Here’s the Reason Why – The Covid-19 Virus

I purchased this Covid-19 piñata from a piñata and popsicle shop here in Las Cruces, NM. Since no face-to-face parties are safe during the pandemic, I am hoping to smash it in October 2021, at my 90th birthday party. Hopefully, by then we will have a safe vaccine available. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2021.
I purchased this Covid-19 piñata at a piñata and popsicle shop in Las Cruces, NM. Since face-to-face celebrations are unsafe during this pandemic year, I am hoping to smash it in October, 2021 at my 90th birthday party. Hopefully, by then we will have a safe vaccine available. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2020.

During this 2020 Pandemic we are sheltering in place and keeping our social distances, but leading a sedentary lifestyle brings changes:

       We are gaining weight;

       Our pets are gaining weight;

       Bra sales are down;

       High heel sales are down by 70%;

       Pajamas and lounge wear sales are up;

       Lipstick sales are down (it smears inside a mask);

       Eye makeup sales are up;

      Single folks who are dating now concern themselves with, “What mask shall I wear?”

Since going to movies and dining inside restaurants is limited, we must content ourselves with home-based entertainment. Thus we are transported to places all over the world via TV streaming or ZOOM activities on our computers. I do both.

Last week, I visited the moon with NASA and saw close-ups of its peaks and craters. I’ve gone bird watching in Utah with the Audubon Society; I went on a pilgrimage with the Chinese Historical Society of Southern California to Yosemite to learn about the role of the Chinese as trail cooks and laundry workers in the National Parks;  In the Catskills, I listened to a band composed of Irving Berlin’s great-grandchildren playing great-grandpa’s tunes; I attended the Roswell, NM Jazz Festival to learn about the music of Duke Ellington; I toured three ghost towns in New Mexico; I wept at three different funerals: Catholic, Buddhist, Jewish.

I’ve ZOOMED to the Fowler Museum at UCLA for two Learn and Lunch sessions, one on Voudun flags from Haiti, the other on elaborate headdresses from Sierra Leone. I traveled to the Museum of the Jewish People in Tel Aviv; In Cuba, I enjoyed the music of an outstanding female trio, the Vocal Vidas, and I learned about St. Joseph Tables from the Italian American Museum on Olvera Street. In New York, I celebrated Stephen Sondheim’s 90th birthday party, where Broadway singers belted out his tunes. I’ve visited book clubs, meetings of the Las Cruces Press Women, and weekly gatherings of the Las Cruces Ukes. Once you start exploring online, the opportunities are endless. 

Despite ZOOM transporting us all over the globe for stimulating events, they can’t replace the experience of being with real people. That rarity happened when I attended a drive-through Jewish ceremony for Ephraim Schmukler’s first haircut, called an Upshearin. Ephraim is the three-year-old son of Rabbi Bery and Chenchie Schmukler, co-directors of the Alevy Chabad Jewish Center of Southern New Mexico. In addition to a boy’s first haircut at age three, the boy also accepts his responsibility to begin studying the Torah. 

Ephraim Schmukler, three-years-old, sitting under an archway of balloons before his hair-cutting ceremony. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2020.

Several years prior, I attended the Upshearin of Ephraim’s older brother, Ari. At that time, the number of party goers numbered about fifty, held indoors with fabulous decorations and food prepared by his talented mother. The highlight was having every person step up to cut off one lock of the boy’s hair, in exchange for a donation to charity.

At the drive-through Upshearin, we received a packet of goodies, including cookies that were the birthday boy’s favorites. Then as we drove out, an attendant gave each of us a sno-cone to offset the oppressive desert heat of that day.

Las Cruces’ Tropical Shaved Kona Ice truck provided much-needed respite from the desert heat. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2020.

Since I arrived at the tail-end of the event, Ephraim’s mom invited me out of my car to snip a lock of her young son’s hair. Actually touching this child’s soft silky curls was startling. When was the last time I touched a baby’s hair? This simple gesture reminded me of how much we have lost during this pandemic beyond those who have perished.

Norine, the Barber. What an honor to touch and cut this sweet baby’s hair. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2020.

We crave human contact. We need hugs and human touch, actions that ZOOM cannot provide. Alas, we must wait until such time when human interactions are safe. In the meanwhile, I guess I’ll just have to content myself with hugging my cat for the twenty seconds per day she allots me.

Norine Dresser is a folklorist who has taken sheltering-in-place as a mandate.


Visit her Gallery of Folklore & Popular Culture: flpcgallery.org

celebrations, customs/rituals, folklore, parties




Ari Schmukler at age 2, now one year older and ready for his first haircut. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2017.

On March 1, 2017, Rabbi Bery and Chenchie Schmukler invited the Las Cruces Chabad Jewish community to witness and participate in the first haircut ceremony of their son, Ari. The event is called an Upshernish (shearing).

Many of you know that multicultural rites of passage, customs and beliefs delight me. And although I had written about this ceremony as observed in Israel, I had never had a first hand observer’s experience before this.

Witnessing and participating in the ceremony were Chenchie’s parents, Rabbi Eli and Shaina Tiefenbrun who flew in from New York. Rabbi Bery and Chenchie’s four other children, Cherna, Mayer, Leba, Leah were the other key players enjoying the event.

Rabbi Bery and Chenchie Schmukler with her parents, Rabbi Eli and Shaina Tiefenbrun with the grandchildren, Cherna (in arms), Mayer, Leba, Leah, and Ari.


Ari patiently sat on a chair as his father and grandfather offered words of congratulations. Then the congregation lined up to have a turn to cut a lock of Ari’s hair.



Ari Schmukler patiently sitting while a congregant cuts a lock of his hair. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2017.

After cutting a lock of hair, the person placed it in a plastic container and then deposited a quarter in the yellow Tsedaka (charity) container. Eventually, most of the hair was cut except for the peot (side locks).


The yellow tsedaka container. Here hair cutters deposit quarters for charity. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2017.

Chenchie is a fantastic party organizer. She made cookies in the shape of scissors, in the shape of the aleph, the first letter in the Hebrew alphabet and the first letter of Ari’s name. She created a donut wall where the children happily removed the donuts and provided a colorful and abundant feast for all in attendance.

Cookies in the shapes of the aleph, scissors, and the numeral three. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2017.

The 3rd birthday haircutting ceremony announces the beginning of the child’s Jewish education. He now wears a kippah or yarmulke (skull cap) and tzizit (fringed undergarment). An easel held the Hebrew alphabet that had drops of honey dabbed on it emphasizing the sweetness of learning. Overall, the celebration stresses the importance of charity and the responsibility of learning.

The Hebrew alphabet to demonstrate that Ari will now begin his Jewish education. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2017.

There is a rationale for having this ceremony at age three. The child becomes analogous to a tree that is prohibited from being cut until it is three, lest the fruit be underdeveloped. But if the tree is left untouched for three years, the fruit becomes sweet. Humans, too, should not be touched for the first three years. After that, they are ready to move on to the next stage of life.


Norine Dresser is a folklorist who is not an Orthodox Jew. However, sensing that her son’s first haircut was significant, she took him to her maternal grandfather, Jacob Friesh, who had been a barber in England. He proudly gave Mark, his first great-grandson, the first haircut.

aging, friendship, holidays, music, parties

Confessions of a Bearded Lady

I love pulling pranks, but it’s so much more fun when you have a playmate. And I have one — my fabulous friend and neighbor, Roxana Gillette.

Bearded Ladies, Norine Dresser and Roxana Gillett at the Las Cruces Ukes. Photo by Bob Hull. © Norine Dresser Photo Collection, 2016.
Bearded Ladies, Norine Dresser and Roxana Gillett at the Las Cruces Ukes. Photo by Bob Hull. © Norine Dresser Photo Collection, 2016.

After discovering the above pictured wonderful bearded masks on an obscure website, Roxanna ordered two.Then while waiting for delivery, and as a surprise for us to perform for the Las Cruces Ukes, she wrote a parody, set to the tune of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”

Based on the assumption that the beards and wool head coverings were filled with cooties, she changed the chorus from “Hallelujah” to “We’ll Shampoo Ya,” creating an absurd juxtaposition.

We rehearsed numerous times and arranged that both ukulele classes would be present when we emerged in our hirsute conditions. I assured Roxana that even if the audience didn’t laugh at the song, they’d laugh at our appearances. And so they did. We were a hit. Mission accomplished.

Pulling pranks has no statute of limitations.The only requirement is being willing to take a risk that might make one’s self look foolish (over and over again).

Sisters Saggitarius, Norine Dresser and Janice Garey, 1950s. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2016
Sisters Sagittarius, Norine Dresser and Janice Garey, 1950s. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2016.

During the 1960s, I had a different playmate, Janice Garey. My niece, Madge Dresser had consulted with me in planning her November Sweet Sixteen birthday party. She selected an astrology theme concentrating on her unique choices of food, activities, flower arrangements.

Janice collaborated with me in making a surprise entrance at Madge’s party as the Sisters Sagittarius.We dyed sheets black for our cover-ups, wore very tall black cardboard hats, slathered our faces with zinc oxide and exaggerated our features with black eye liner. For an added touch, Janice dried out a cooked chicken leg to use as a witch’s wand.

We stashed our four daughters into my car and parked it half a block away from the party. After pounding on the door, my startled sister-in-law answered as the two of us burst in and in witch-like voices and with Janice wielding the chicken leg, we menaced the teenagers, threatening acne or cramps if they didn’t obey us. I don’t remember much else except we ad-libbed drawing upon our inner witchiness. After about five minutes, we tore out of there, ran down the street and got back into the car laughing all the way.

Why do I and others commit such silly acts? Because making others laugh is a great motivator. Even at 84, I get a kick out of the scheming and wondering if the prank will work and will I get some laughs? But sometimes the prank falls flat.


Black wreath, example of style of wreath I hung on Lillian's front door. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2016.
Black wreath, example of style of wreath I hung on Lillian’s front door. © Norine Dresser photo collection, 2016.

In the 1950s, I met Lillian, a lovely woman whose children attended the same nursery school as my children. She invited my husband and me to a Halloween party. I volunteered to help with the decorating and while at her home asked, “How about a black wreath to hang on your front door?”

She thought that was a wonderful touch, so I offered to make it for her. I bent a wire clothes hanger into a circle and threaded a ribbon of twisted black crepe paper on it. Hanging in my car, the wreath actually cast a pall over me as I drove to Lillian’s house to deliver it before the festivities began.

Several hours later, when my husband and I arrived at the party, the black wreath was missing from the front door. Surprised, I asked, “Lillian, where’s the wreath?”

Before she could answer, a distraught relative of hers pulled me aside and demanded. “How could you do such a thing?”

I was dumbfounded as she explained, “When we pulled up to the door and saw the wreath, we thought the worst. So we drove to a public phone booth and began calling relatives to ask who had died.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. It was Halloween. It was a Halloween party. If she did take it seriously, why not enter the house and find out?

I did not act defensively. I couldn’t. She was so genuinely upset, and I found it so irrational that I just stood there mute.

And that was the last time I ever made a Halloween funeral wreath.

But it was not the last time I have played a prank, and I hope there will be more opportunities to do so in the future.


Norine Dresser is a folklorist who believes that we need to create fun and to keep on laughing as long as we can.