Who am I; What am I?

For over 46 years, I was an American.  I was one of us — even though I am Jewish, an unrepentant liberal, and gay.  There was room in the tent, even if a few people called me unpatriotic for opposing the Iraqi invasion.

But this year, things are different.  Was my grandmother a citizen when my mother was born?  Yes.  Does it matter?  Maybe I get dispensation because I pay in taxes what most people earn in a decade.  I thought that in this country, one no longer had to buy freedom or the right to be protected from government interference.  But if neo-fascists get their way, birthright citizenship goes away.  If that happens, hell, I am moving because I am not paying my tax dollars into a system that makes me prove my mother’s citizenship.  I bet that America would find that most of their tax dollars comes from second generation Americans and not the Tea Party Express members who fear that their status as descendants of European conquerors doesn’t buy a loaf of bread.

Then there is this talk about the oppressive Atheists who deprive Christians of their right to pray in schools.   News flash:  it isn’t just the Atheists.  It is every mainstream of every minority religion that wants breathing space from fundamentalists — of whatever religion.  As religious as were the founders, they believed, and the case law of our nation’s highest court supports, that there be a separation of church and state, mostly for the protection of the minority against the tyranny of the majority (thank you, Thomas Jefferson).   Chew on that, Christine O’Donnell.

Protest is the hallmark of our nation.  We were founded upon the belief that we had a right to protest the edicts of King Charles of England.  So when video captures a campaign aide stomping on the head of a protester, one has to wonder who has hijacked our nation.  I disagree with the campaign aide’s candidate on more things than I can count but I support his right to campaign on his ideas.   If his staff cannot support the right of the opposition to protest, then they are totalitarian thugs.  They don’t belong in the great experiment in democracy that is America.

Also in this election cycle, we learned that there are those who believe that if this nation were to allow gay marriage, it would be tantamount to allowing a person to marry a piece of furniture.  No joke.  Try telling that to your girlfriend.

Where did the ideals and dreams of America go?  I am a stranger in my own land.

Uncommon Honor

Our god-daughters come over every other Friday night for family dinner. (I think “goddaughter” doesn’t sit so well with one, but it is just too impossible to explain the depth of our relationships, so it will have to do.)

We’ve been through a lot together. J. started out 9 years ago as a perfectly lovely undergraduate with lovely light brown hair. One day she came over having gotten a blond buzz cut and some metallica in and around her face.

Then she started playing rugby which is football without all of the protective gear (and we know that even that doesn’t help much).

Then she came out as a gun owner (her family is from out in the country where hunting is the norm).  This was a difficult issue because we are good New York liberals and my mother helped found New Yorkers Against Gun Violence.  She probably enjoyed the irony of my playing with light sabers yesterday (see prior blog entry).

Then, as a senior she brought home a peppy young undergraduate for us to meet.  (See below about K.)

Then, there was the living on our couch for a while (she can come back in a New-York minute).

Then, she decided, contrary to my better advice, to go to law school.  Nooooooo comment.

Most recently, she came out as a vegetarian (remember, she is from a meat-loving, hunting family).  We are fine with that, really, we just would have preferred to know ahead of dinner that evening.  So now we are searching for good, vegetarian recipes for Friday nights. (I bet you thought I was going to say that she came out as a lesbian, but that is soooo old school.)

So, K. came into our lives about 8 years ago after we had gotten a little too much information about her for any self-respecting godparents to handle.  Also, I think I intimidated K. in the beginning or, more to the point, she didn’t really “get” me.  Maybe I was too over-protective of J.  (Ok, I was too over-protective of J. but sometimes family is a burden in that way.)

Anyway, K. schlepped J. out to New Jersey (which was beyond the three-mile radius rule I thought I had set down firmly).  Already not good.

But as time and life enfolded, we love and adore K. and she loves POB, and even I am growing on her (like moss).

Now she tells us about her crazy externships and the dangerous crisis circumstances (without breaking any confidentiality) in which she does her clinical work, and we try to stay calm and not scream, “Get the HELL out of that place!!  Who the HELL needs that kind of insanity?? Can’t you find a wellness clinic and practice there???”  Neither POB (partner of blogger) or I actually say it.  We listen with concern and interest and try to keep the internal screaming, well, internal.

And there have been sad and heart-breaking bumps in the road that needn’t be re-hashed.

So, when on Friday night, they said they had an announcement and a question, POB and I were both panic-stricken.  They saw this in our eyes, so they tried to calm us but not give away the surprise.  I think I reminded them that we have middle-aged hearts and sudden shocks to our systems are dangerous and cruel.

It was good news: they are having a wedding!!!  So, I figured the question was, would we host the rehearsal dinner or help pay for the caterer.  They talked about the place they picked and told us every detail and all the time I am thinking about the question.  Maybe it isn’t about money.  Maybe we are not invited and they want to explain why.  Maybe they want our son to the ring-bearer.  Maybe they ARE converting to Judaism (they are Jewish culturally now anyway) and want recommendations for rabbis to lead the service.  Ok, ok, ok, ok, I think.  Please ask the question because I am still concerned that it is a scary, sad or bad question.

Drum roll.  Since they are married in Connecticut and New York doesn’t allow same-sex marriage, they asked me to officiate the wedding and be the general emcee of the weekend.  I was honored, humbled, scared, disbelieving all at once.  What an immense honor.  I couldn’t speak.  I kept trying to say something, but I couldn’t formulate a sentence — I was still shocked that they would give me this honor. Tears started to well up.  I am still so overwhelmed and honored.

And as J. and K. probably figured, I couldn’t sleep on Friday night because ideas about the ceremony were flooding my brain.  (Some were really good; some not so much.)

What an honor and privilege.  I am indeed blessed.

Less Crazy Than . . . .

It takes all kinds of crazy from all kinds of people to make New York City a unique human experience.  A key to survival in this city is to think you are less crazy than at least one other person.  And if all you can do is feel less crazy than a raving lunatic, well, then, you only need to walk a few streets in either direction to find a more subtle version of crazy.  Of course, you don’t always have time to search for a less lunatic, but still crazier, person.

Here’s is what I mean:

If you are running late in New York City, the best way to travel is by subway.  Of course, the impulse is to take a cab because it should be faster since it is a door-to-door trip.  But there is always traffic in this City.  Yet, what did I do yesterday morning when I was running late for work (as I often do)?  Yep, I took a cab.  And I was surprised and frustrated that there was no magically clear avenue for the cab to zip down.  Even more irritating was that my driver was a traffic magnet.  Who drives down Broadway from the upper west side to midtown at 9:15am?  And, adding insult to injury, he had been a cab driver for years (I asked).  Still, I wondered why taking a cab didn’t miraculously reduce the time it takes to get to my office.  Crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Realizing this, I had to find someone very quickly who was more crazy than I.

But I am in the backseat of a cab stalled in traffic a few blocks above the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle.  Agitated, I looked all around me.  There were the odd assortment of passersby but no one crazy enough to be crazier than I.  I felt a cold sweat come on.  In my head, I was screaming:  I cannot be the craziest person in this City!!!!!

Then I saw a homeless man standing in front of a former bank branch doing his Yoga stretches in the sunshine.  He was breathing in deeply as he moved his arms in arcs above his head and down.  Then he did the stretch with an arched back (something that has a name that contains the word dog?).  All I know was that he was breathing in deep, cleansing (ok, it is New York City, so not so cleansing) breaths and seemed to be calm and happy.  Ok, he is a crazy, homeless man because if you are homeless you simply cannot be serene and happy unless you are crazy. And, according to the great philosopher Forrest Gump, crazy is as crazy does.

So, I was less crazy that morning than the man on the street.  And some days, that is the best you can do.

Gays in the Military

Does anyone really believe that, with the lifting of the ban, gays will start wearing rainbow flags and singing Judy Garland songs instead of the national anthem? 

Military is a macho place where gays will be harassed for decades to come.  I doubt gays will start coming out of the closet in droves tomorrow. 

The point on the injunction is that no one can get forced from the military for being gay, so gay service members don’t have to live in fear of discovery while they serve our nation on the battlefields.  Our nation should be grateful to those who love this country so much that they will risk their lives even though they face senseless discrimination. 

Let’s get at the fear, which is sex:  Some people think that gay service members will start propositioning heterosexuals and start having sex in public. 

First, straight people over-estimate their attractiveness. 

Second, these people are trained military personnel who abide by a code of conduct. 

If a gay or straight service member acts in a way unbecoming an officer or enlisted person (use any example you want) then that service member can still be, and should be, discharged. 

And, President Obama, don’t fight this injunction.  We are here, we are queer and we are tired of waiting.

A puzzlement

How can we call ours a civilized society if politicians, pundits and preachers gain support and power for demonizing Muslims and gay people?  

I would appreciate hearing any thoughts on this.

Dreaming

I had multiple and elaborate stress dreams last night.  (It is unfortunate to remember one’s night terror.)

It started out in the usual way: there was a test coming up based on FOUR years of college-level mathematics and I had cut all of the classes for ALL four years.  So, I had to find a tutor.  My college friends suggested someone, another friend from college.  So, we went in search of her and that takes us to Brazil.  But we can’t see any of the sites while we are there (we are always stymied) so we are looking for a cybercafe to look up all the must-see things in Rio that we are missing.  We walked by an open-air stadium and we heard Diana Ross and the Supremes.  We whipped out our hair brushes, and used them as mics as we did a lip-synching street show.

Some facts to know:

  1. I cut almost every 8am calculus class freshman year and scraped by with a C (given the grade inflation that existed at Dartmouth, it was as if I passed by the grace of G-d) and never went near another math-related course.
  2. On rides to and from school, we often whipped out our hair brushes to sing back-up for whatever song was on the radio (no CDs or iPods then).
  3. I have been to many cities in Brazil, as well as the rainforest.

So, stress and life conflated into an intricate, colorful and stressful dream.  Maybe the humor in my stress dream signals a growing maturity in handling of stress.  Or, more likely, I was lucky that my dream amused me, in addition to sending me into a cold sweat.

Paging, Dr. Freud. . . .

Sanchez and Stewart

I feel bad for Rick Sanchez and I feel bad for Jon Stewart.

I think Rick Sanchez was wrong about Jon Stewart’s sense of entitlement or paranoia as a Jew.  I think Jon Stewart’s cultural Jewishness infuses his humor with that contrarian-isn’t-the-world-crazy approach, but that’s it.

But Rick wasn’t really talking about Jon Stewart.  He was talking about how he — Rick Sanchez — feels about his place at CNN and the things that have kept him down.  I don’t think one tirade should cost him his job.  That only cements the anger.  More famous people get to hire a spiritual adviser and keep their jobs or move onto the speaking tour.  So, I say, CNN needs to listen to him and figure out whether or not his anger is justified.

As for Jon Stewart, I am sorry that he felt the need to change his name, although it is show business.  And Leibowitz doesn’t really flow well.  And Jon Stewart may have issues with Judaism — hey, he works (or at least new shows air) on the high Holy Days.  Even the most lapsed Jew in the world finds a synagogue or stays home from work for self-reflection and contemplation on these holy days.   So, he has baggage, too.

I have baggage.  We all have baggage.  Rick Sanchez should get his job back and he should go into therapy.

I will say it is odd that some bullying assistant attorney general who is targeting a gay college student gets to keep his job on a “free speech” argument and Rick Sanchez gets tossed for a short rant that he probably regrets.


When “Rights” Just Cover Prejudice and Cowardice

A Michigan assistant attorney general, a man who is charged with enforcing the laws of the State of Michigan, is waging a vicious, cyber-war against a gay college student.

Ok, let’s take a moment and feel sorry for this assistant AG who has unresolved issues about his own sexual orientation and a big dose of self-loathing.  Now, that moment is over.

Time to rant about him and his employer the Attorney General of the State of Michigan, defends his assistant AG even though he calls him a bully.

The AG hides behind the “free speech” argument.  Let’s assume it is applicable here.  There are limits to one’s right to free speech. The classic example is “you can’t yell fire in a crowded theater” [unless there is, in fact, a fire].  The government can prosecute you if what you are saying is calculated to incite violence and does, in fact, incite violence.

Here are the rules of thumb for free speech:

Free speech is limited to reasonable time, reasonable place and reasonable manner. (That’s why there are limits to where you can hold rallies and when your neighbor can do heavy construction on his property.)

Free speech doesn’t protect you from the consequences of that speech.

Do you really think that if this Michigan assistant AG were harassing say, a co-worker, a female student or another civil servant, that the AG would feel the same way and hide behind “free speech”?  Really?

No, the AG doesn’t want to take the side of a gay college kid.

Because that would be unpopular and require that he take a stand against his conservative constituency.

So, the head legal officer of the State of Michigan in the United States of America in the year 2010 will call a subordinate a bully, but won’t stand up to him??

Don’t you think that bullying has caused too many young people to be emotionally scarred or so despondent as to be suicidal?  If the recent suicide of a Rutgers student doesn’t make law enforcement, law enforcement, stand up to bullying, what will become of our society?
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Michigan attorney general defends employee’s right to blog

http://i.cdn.turner.com/cnn/2010/US/09/30/michigan.justice.blog/story.shirvell.cnn.jpg

September 30, 2010|By the CNN Wire Staff *

Michigan Attorney General Mike Cox defended an assistant’s constitutional right to wage an Internet campaign against an openly gay college student, even though he considers that employee a “bully.” “Here in America, we have this thing called the First Amendment, which allows people to express what they think and engage in political and social speech,” Cox told Anderson Cooper on CNN’s “AC 360” on Wednesday night. “He’s clearly a bully … but is that protected under the First Amendment of the United States Constitution? Yes.”

Back in School

Tonight was curriculum night at our son’s school.

The teachers tell the parents about what the kids are learning and the year’s goals.  As if I know whether it makes any sense or is grade-appropriate.  Nevertheless, I go because, well, you know the adage, “be there or be talked about”.  In fact, POB (partner of blogger) and I did talk about those who weren’t there over dinner later.  Let’s face it, we are all just children with graying hair.  So, if you put us in a gossip-y environment, then you better run for cover.

We were at the school for two hours, during which I slipped into the slouching, smart-mouthed, bored student of my youth.  I was disruptive during the reading teacher’s presentation because I was joking back and forth across the table with another mother (who has made a cameo in prior blogs — the mother of our son’s future wife).  Later, I was whispering to the father of my son’s best guy friend (who also has made a cameo in prior blogs — he was the one in need of adult male bonding rituals after months at home with the kids).

During the math teacher’s presentation, I was getting antsy and was counting ceiling tiles.  During the art and music presentation, which was last, I stared at the clock until there were ten minutes remaining and then I started packing up.   Just the kind of child that makes teachers leave teaching.

POB took notes throughout and asked pertinent questions.  She elicited smiles and positive reinforcement from the teachers.  She was like that as a kid.  Remember we’ve known each other since we were ten years old and I know that she always did her Hebrew school homework.  Her Hebrew school homework, for G-d’s sake (in a manner of speaking).

If there is a test on the details at the next parent teacher conference, POB will ace it and won’t let me peek at her paper.  I just know it.

My poor son.  I sure hope nature (POB’s genes) beats nurture (my overbearing personality) because otherwise he is toast.

Ask about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Yesterday I arrived in Orlando for meetings. My driver was a burly man named Johnny. I asked him if he were a native Floridian and he said he and his wife had moved here a few years ago after he retired from the military.

So, I asked him what he thought of repealing “don’t ask, don’t tell” (now, back to a theoretical issue).  I had to ask.  I know, it is like picking a scab but I couldn’t hold back.

He said that he is a Christian and that homosexuals were deviants and introducing sexuality on the battlefield was wrong. I mentioned that homosexuals already serve in secret and many with distinctions for valor.  He said that it was as wrong as having women on the battlefield because, in both cases, you’d feel the need to take care of them and as a result you were putting yourself in even further danger. I wondered whether this man had ever been on the front lines.

He couldn’t get past his views that homosexuality was an offense before G-d and that gay men were somehow less than men.

When we got to our destination and he handed me my bag, I said “Johnny, I appreciate your honesty. I am gay and I don’t agree with you. Thank you for your service to our country.”  He was a little shocked but he shook my hand.

I hope he remembers me.