A Grownup Guide to Effective Crankiness: The CrankaTsuris Method

Prologue: How to Use Your Own CrankaTsuris

I wrote The Last Surviving Dinosaur: The TyrantoCrankaTsuris last year, as a kids’ book. This book, however, was written not only with kids in mind. As the narrator says, “Even Mommy and Daddy can be a TyrantoCrankaTsuris and TyrantoKvetchaTsuris sometimes!” So, it is important for us to acknowledge our own “CrankaTsuris.”

Imagine if a family member is standing on a very expensive rug. This close family member informs you that he or she is feeling very ill. You observe that this important person is in fact sick and is about to throw up. This sick person politely asks which way to the bathroom.

The response is never, “No. I insist that you do it right where you are standing! What better place for you to do it than on this rug. It is a priceless antique. The rug used to be on display at the Museum of Art. Do you know that this rug was on the floor of the main living room of Buckingham Palace? Of course, you have to know that you are standing close to my Picasso, as well. How about you try to shoot some of that outgoing projectile from your mouth that way? Do you think you can reach the Picasso? I can push you a bit closer, and I would consider it a bonus!”

Actually, the normal response is, “Not on the rug! It is a precious antique! Go to the bathroom! Do not worry. If you can’t make it, I will just push you in!” Then the poor sickly member of the family rushes to the bathroom.

All of us are aware that all of our family members are much more important than the very expensive rug. Despite this, we typically do not hesitate to pour out our CrankaTsuris all over our spouses, kids, parents, and siblings—and then there can be a CrankaTsuris retaliation. Before you know it, you are in the middle of a CrankaTsuris food fight. When it is all over, just like the rug, it can be very difficult to clean up a CrankaTsuris.

So, we try to feel it coming. We feel it inside. It starts in the pit of our stomach, and it moves up to our throat. Instead of just letting it all out, stop for a couple of seconds and breathe. Warn the person you love so much that you have a CrankaTsuris inside and it may be coming. Say why you are feeling this CrankaTsuris inside you. Say what you may need to make it less messy. But, remember one thing. If you were not able to help yourself, and you did pour out a CrankaTsuris all over your loved one, apologize and say you had a little “CrankaTsuris” when you finally calm down.

So invite the TyrantoCrankaTsuris and the TyrantoKvetchaTsuris into your home. Begin with your own CrankaTsuris practice, and have fun with what is really our true nature!

Chapter 1: The Story of the Last Surviving Dinosaur: The TyrantoCrankaTsuris

“Tsuris” (pronounced tSSuris!!—light on the T, and very heavy on the S) is the Yiddish word for problems. Now, when I say “problems,” I am not talking about a minor daily inconvenience. I am talking about a major, life-changing, traumatic event that has brought on such suffering that, never before, has ever been experienced by anyone since the beginning of time, and something you would never wish on your worst enemy.

Consider the difference in the two statements: “I have this problem” and “Oy! I have such tsuris! Oy!” While a problem is something you may choose to keep to yourself, tsuris is something you have to share with the entire world. Think of some real tsuris you may have, and try to keep it to yourself.

See! You cannot do it.

I grew up in a very Jewish home in the Bronx. My parents and the rest of my family came over from Europe after World War II. And, I can tell you this. My home was like many other Jewish homes, at least in my neighborhood. All the relatives would get together and start kvetching—talking about tsuris in a very competitive manner. “You think you have tsuris? If I had your tsuris, I would be doing cartwheels! Nobody can outdo my tsuris!”

We all talked about our tsuris with a huge sense of pride. For us, there was a feeling of real accomplishment. It was as if we were all training for the Olympics and tsuris was an Olympic event. One of us was going to get the gold!

“How are you doing, Aunt Saydie?”

“I am okay, but I have these warts on my toes, and I can’t get rid of them!”

My second cousin Dottie would chime in. “I would take the warts! I got my warts removed, and my toenails fell off! And the fungus between the toes—there is serious vegetation growing there!”

Aunt Sandy would lean herself over and proudly say, “Oy! But

both of you did not go through what I went through! I went to Florida and then, was bit by an alligator! Look at me now! I am turning into a reptile!”

Sure enough, Aunt Sandy had grown alligator feet with scales and claws that had a nice nail polish gold and purple finish. Aunt Saydie and cousin Dottie examined the alligator feet, and they were very impressed indeed.

On the other side of the room, the men would be talking.

“How are you doing, Uncle Mottie?”

“I could be better. For years, I thought I had this terrible problem with dandruff—used every brand of dandruff shampoo. Nothing helped. I finally found out it was lice. I am a walking plague!”

My cousin Whiny would interrupt. “Don’t tell me about lice. I never leave the city. I stay on concrete. I do not even go into a park. Do you know what happened to me? I got ticks—deer ticks! Only I can get deer ticks in Brooklyn!”

Uncle Shmukie, with his booming voice, would grab the gold: “I would take lice and ticks in a heartbeat! I just got back from the doctor. Do you know what this doctor told me? I have an inoperable brain tumor. The doctor says it is not life threatening, but it is a brain tumor! The doctor put a magnetic metal plate around the brain tumor to keep it from growing. Now, they will not let me fly on airplanes. They think I am carrying a bomb inside my head!”

Just to show off Uncle Shmukie’s magnetism, he took out a box of paper clips, and placed it on the table. Sure enough, as he put his head closer to the table, all the paper clips flew up to the top of his head!

So this all prepared me very well when I became a father and my daughter had a temper tantrum. I put her in time-out. But, I told her that when she came out, I would tell her the real story about how most, but not all, of the dinosaurs became extinct.

My daughter then thought to herself, this should be a good story! She quietly composed herself while in her bedroom. When the time-out was over, she said, “I’m ready for the story, Daddy! Wait! You said that not all dinosaurs are extinct. That is not what I learned in school!”

“It isn’t true. One small dinosaur survived. Even though she was the smallest dinosaur, she was the most dangerous of all. And believe it or not, we humans are her ancestors. We all are descendants from this one little tiny dinosaur,” I said.

“What was the name of this dinosaur?” my daughter asked, her interest piqued.

“The TyrantoCrankaTsuris!”

“I’ve never heard of that dinosaur,” my daughter replied.

With a mischievous smile, I began to tell her the story. “The TyrantoCrankaTsuris was the smallest dinosaur on the planet, and all of the other dinosaurs made fun of her because of her size. The other dinosaurs liked to brag about how tough they were!

‘I can eat a

an entire forest with one bite!’ one said.

“A second dinosaur exclaimed, ‘My teeth are so big, they are the size of an entire forest!’

“A third dinosaur boasted, ‘I floss my teeth with an entire forest!’

“And they all made fun of and laughed at the little TyrantoCrankaTsuris, until one day, the little TyrantoCrankaTsuris got really, really mad at the other dinosaurs and let out the biggest and loudest CrankaTsuris:

‘I have bad warts on my toes that do not come off, but they came off and my toenails came off with them, and then I grew fungus the size of an entire forest. So I went to Florida to soak my forest feet in the ocean, and an alligator bit off my forest feet, but it bit my feet too—and it hurt so much!’

“And with that CrankaTsuris, the whole planet shook and went dark. However, the TyrantoCrankaTsuris did not stop.

“‘And then I couldn’t stop scratching my scales, and I thought I had dandruff, but it was really lice, and then I found out I had deer ticks even though deer do not exist in prehistoric times, and I can’t get the deer ticks removed because I have an inoperable brain tumor, and if they tried to remove the deer ticks, my brains would splatter all over, and my head would really hurt even worse!’

“She went on and on and on, cranking out all of her tsuris that she had suffered her entire life until all of the bigger and badder dinosaurs on the planet had vanished—all except one.

The TyrantoCrankaTsuris met another tiny dinosaur: the TyrantoKvetchaTsuris. When he arrived from Florida with the alligator he captured, they fell in love. They soon got married and cranked and kvetched happily ever after. Millions of years later, these last two dinosaurs evolved into humans.

“Before, you were getting a bit cranky and kvetchy. That is the part that we humans inherited from the TyrantoCrankaTsuris and the TyrantoKvetchaTsuris. Even Mommy and Daddy can be a TyrantoCrankaTsuris and TyrantoKvetchaTsuris!

“You need to be careful with this power,” I told my daughter. “Remember, all of the other dinosaurs became extinct when the TyrantoCrankaTsuris just would not stop!

So we learned to be careful not to express our inner TyrantoCrankaTsuris or TyrantoKvetchaTsuris too often—just the right amount to keep the planet happy and not too cranky.”

Chapter 2: The CrankaTsuris Method

The premise behind the idea of CrankaTsuris is that crankiness is part of our true nature. Think about it! We are the only species that enter this world crying. You would not see a litter of puppies or kittens being born and wailing away the second they enter this world.

Even chickens do not cry when they are born and hatch out of their shells. If I were a chicken, when I come out of my shell, I would definitely cry my head off!

They emerge from their cozy temperature controlled shell into a crowded chicken pen. Obviously, they forgot to think about social distancing. Once they are out of their shell, their parents then give them weird names like “Rotisserie” or “Cupasoup.” At least for me, this sounds like the perfect recipe for chickens to start screaming their head off.

Imagine that you are in a deep sleep in your nice cozy bed, and when you wake up, you are stuck on the A train during rush hour. I do not have to imagine since this has been an actual experience of mine. Not fun at all.

Now, animals do cry, of course. However, it is mostly from real suffering. When my daughter was growing up, we had a fabulous mutt of a dog, Albus Dumbledog. If there was a thunderstorm or if he was dealing with some serious bathroom issues and wanted to go out to relieve himself, his cries would let us know. He would not start crying because we turned off his favorite TV show on Animal Planet.

We can get cranky just because we do not get our own way, especially when we are young. Even when we get old, we may get cranky for the same reason, but we may show it in a passive-aggressive fashion. We may act out in a way that could be harmful not only to our loved ones but also to ourselves.

The answer, that all of us have been told, was to not act out. Rather, we should just say what we are feeling, as if by saying it, we can make the feeling go away. We should just verbalize. “Johnny, if you are angry, you can say that you are angry. That is a lot better than hitting Tommy!”

While saying what we feel is obviously a better choice than acting out, think about this for a moment. Imagine that we become experts at saying what we feel: “I feel angry.” “I feel mad.” “I feel annoyed.” “I feel irritated.” There is also a physical aspect to this. My blood pressure goes up. I feel a rush of adrenaline. Maybe, I take a physical action: eating. I will drown my sorrows with a bowl of ice cream—no, not a bowl … a quart of ice cream with toppings.

The physical part is still there. If I keep on saying on a daily basis, “I feel angry,” for example, I may at some point start to believe I am this very angry person. Not only that, because I am always telling you about my angry feelings, despite the fact that you appreciate that I tell that I am angry, you end up believing that I am a very angry person.

“Our son Johnny is such an angry boy! I am so pleased that he tells us how angry he is. There was that one day that Johnny forgot to tell me how angry he was. That was a scary day. Believe me. I was so worried.”

Here the CrankaTsuris comes in to save the day. You have a loved one who is feeling the edge and may want to verbalize hurtful things. A little kid wants to hit his brother because he is playing with the toy that is only his—no sharing! Now, we want to preserve all of the goodness, sweetness, kindness, and lovingness of that person. We do not want to label that person as a bad person. We can avoid that sort of negative outcome by rolling up those feelings into a CrankaTsuris.

Johnny is not an angry boy. He just is a sweet kid with a little CrankaTsuris in him.