It’s a small world after all

I was emailing my friends that someone at my new job uses the “air quotes” so continuously it reminds me of the hand motions for the camp song, “Little Rabbit Froo Froo” [hoppin’ thru the forest . . .].  In fact, I giggle every time I see her.

I learned that the little rabbit was also known as the little bunny and was also known as “Foo Foo” and “Frou Frou”, although I know my version is right.  Even if Wikipedia says otherwise, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Bunny_Foo_Foo. Then, a friend from Canada thought the field mice were wiggly worms.  Ok, that is just WRONG.

One of my friends posted the debate on Facebook and, within ten minutes, she got ten responses with alternate theories of the song and the animals in it.

People are fierce on this subject.  It took a Facebook responder to remind us that the moral of the story is:  “hare today, goon tomorrow.”

Tea Party-ers in Revolutionary Get-Ups

Ok, I don’t get what was so great about the pre-Revolutionary War period.

Milk and water had deadly bacteria, “medicine” consisted of bloodletting and leaches, and the economies of the colonies went through more boom and bust cycles than we have in the 20th and 21st centuries combined.

Also, women didn’t vote, slavery was legal and an education was a luxury.  Life expectancy was short and infant mortality high.  You were either born into poverty or great wealth — no in-between.  There was war and its unspeakable human carnage.

In case the tea party-ers are not students of history, they are in the costumes of either the unofficial American aristocracy who made incredible fortunes from smuggling and the slave trade or those who were the impoverished masses and were controlled by that unofficial aristrocracy.  And the Boston tea party was a Samuel Adams’ instigated mob riot intended to rile everyone against the king of England.  All engineered by the wealthy colonials, not the “common people”.

If you are looking for grass roots democracy, try the Native American tribes on which Jefferson based his vision of government.

So, tea party-ers, what is your point?  If you want to go back to that time, well, have fun but count me out.  I would rather deal with a spoiled society on the verge of global devastation, but with the brain power and ultimately, I hope, the conscience and the technology and intelligence, to figure out how to save our earth and our humanity.

But if you just want to dress in knickers and wigs, then knock yourselves out.

The greatest generation

I know, I know. I write about death and destruction a lot. But life is like that. And movies and TV depict death and destruction with a certain enthusiasm that seems, well, ooky.

Today, I went to a friend’s father’s funeral. I didn’t know my friend’s father but I knew about his life.  I heard him speak once.  And his is a life story worth telling again and again, over and over.

He was born in Turkey and raised — before World War II — in France. He was a Jew and fled to the forests in unoccupied France.  There he met his wife and together, with others they met in hiding, fought with the Resistance.

I remember his saying at a talk at our synagogue that he never really thought of himself as a survivor in the same way that those who survived the concentration camps were survivors.

At the funeral, the rabbi asked those who hid with him to stand and three very old people slowly, and with assistance, stood, two of them very stooped over.  These old people did heroic things in a world gone haywire and they survived in a jungle of sorts where other humans were hunters and they were the game.

This man did the exact opposite of what was done to him. He loved, he gave generously of his time and his resources, he was grateful for life‘s gifts and, as someone at the funeral said, he didn’t blink when adversity hit.

He is truly the epitome of our greatest generation.  He saw the worst, endured the worst and gave his best back.

I didn’t know him but I stand on his shoulders and those like him — my own parents and grandparents — and therefore I need to pay my respects to a man who made possible the opportunities in my life.  For the debt I cannot repay to those who so willingly gave to me, I promise to pay it forward to the next generation, all the while telling the heroic stories of those who came before me.

Monsieur Henri, your memory is a blessing to all who know you and your family.

Racism in America

Harry Reid is an ass for saying what he said but, unfortunately, I can’t imagine that he is alone in thinking this way.

And we should talk about it.

President Obama is a transformative figure in so many ways but right now, most minority candidates don’t have a credible chance at national elective office.  Not even a wise Latina.

And we should talk about it.

But let’s not confuse Harry Reid with Trent Lott.  Trent Lott, when toasting segregationalist and white supremacist Strom Thurmond, told an admiring crowd that life would have been a lot different if Thurmond were elected president in the 40s and 50s when he ran for the office.  Harry Reid was talking about Barack Obama’s appeal to the electorate; Trent Lott was talking about the continuation of Jim Crow.  The comparison is made only for political gain.

Transportation Safety Administration

We know that TSA personnel are mean and threatening.  They enjoy lording over passengers and looking at each pereson suspiciously.  And yet, they still seem to effect that attitude of “I’m doing you a favor, so don’t piss me off.”

We also know that having some one’s smelly shoes in a bin next to your bin (and permeating your coat and blazer) is no way to start or end a trip. 

My favorite, though, is the full-body glaucoma test, where you are in a Woody Allen-esque orgasmatron machine as jets of air hit various areas of your body.  The point is to find any trace chemicals.  I also had someone swab my dirty underwear (I was on my way home) looking for trace chemicals.  And, G-d forbid, you wanted to pack some hair gel.

We put up with these and other indignities.  Why? Because they are keeping us safe.

Hmmm.  Then how does a man previously denied entrance into this country, whose family alerted the authorities that he was dangerous, walk on a plane with a syringe and more liquid than “allowed”?

What have we learned?  TSA personnel are mean and threatening AND incompetent.  Luckily, the terrorist in this case was more incompetent.

There are a lot of very qualified people out of work.  Maybe we should upgrade our TSA personnel (and personality).

No Holiday For Us

My son refused the time-honored Jewish tradition of going to the movies on Christmas.  It is a variation on the theme of sitting in the dark until the holiday passes.  In the movies, you sit in the dark, too, but are possibly diverted for 2 or so hours.

We took a walk along Broadway.  It is a gray day and the lingering snow is in that only-in-New-York-could-snow-be-so-gross state.  Everything is closed, even the eatery I called which had a recorded message naming the soup of the day.  In the back of my mind I had a feeling that that recording was for the soup d’autre jour.  Thursday, for example.  Our son didn’t want to go on this walk to — as it turned out — nowhere, and the fact that there was no “there” there justified further whining.

Now we are home, watching educational movies (because we are those creepy kind of parents who have very few videos just for fun).  Now that I have watched the biography of Abraham Lincoln for the third time in six weeks, I am so creeped out by my own parenting that I may have to buy the entire video library of SpongeBob.

Maybe my partner will talk me off the ledge.

The good news is tomorrow is NOT Christmas.

Don’t Impinge on My Holiday

On Christmas, Jews go to the movies and, before the 1980s, ordered in Cantonese Chinese food (now we have more choices).  It isn’t as if we have a holiday to celebrate although the Federal Government long ago, in a flagrant “fusion” (I don’t want to say violation) of the separation of church and state, declared Christmas a national holiday.

It used to be that if you went to a movie theater you would see all your Jewish friends in the neighborhood.  And you knew NOT to talk about synagogue matters even in whispers because even a stone deaf Jew can hear when you talk about synagogue politics or intrigue.

Over the past few years, I have noticed that the movie theaters are crowded and some people are wearing new hats, gloves and jackets and talking about recently received presents.  Hmmmmm.  Chanukah has usually come and gone by that time.  Hmmm. 

I thought that the fun and cheer and Norman Rockwell-like frolicking started at sundown on the 24th when, magically, everyone you know has a beautiful voice and all (miraculously, one could say) sing Christmas carols in perfect harmony.  Everyone, of course, has a chimney with a fire (why, if Santa is supposed to climb down, would you want to roast him and your presents in the fire) or at least a broken window for the Great White Man from the North Pole to enter.  Then, off to Christmas Mass where long-lost friends, lovers, siblings and parents materialize right on the music’s rhythmic beat to surprised and loving looks, but surprisingly little body contact.  (In my family, I assure you, the music would stop and the prodigal person would be asked for an explanation of his or her actions and what atoning actions will be undertaken.)  Christmas morning, everyone wakes up cheerily despite too much eggnog and other Santa’s helper drinks.  Then everyone spends the day on the 25th having meaningful talks, kumbaya moments and epiphanies.  So, clearly no time for the movies.

Am I wrong?  This wouldn’t be the first time. 

But, it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t hang mistletoe or go a-wassailing because it is not my holiday.  So, don’t squeeze me out of tickets to the movies on December 25th because THAT part IS my holiday.

Weave these threads into your reality

In one city, Costco takes tomatoes off its shelves because Sarah Palin is scheduled to appear.  I am sure that Costco wanted to protect the tomatoes from an ignoble end.

In Copenhagen, 193 nations are trying to agree on something — anything.  When was the last time you got consensus in a family of three members? 

Did you know that the food industry is responsible for 1/3 of all of the world’s carbon emissions?  Give up grapes in winter and the save the world.

We are trying to agree with China on important things — North Korea, carbon emissions, sanctions for Iran.  How about we start with something small, like, “it’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Now, no one likes the health care reform bill.  The Congress behaved so badly, but of course it is Obama’s fault.

A Republican senator wanted to run out the clock on health care by requiring the reading of a laborious and largely symbolic amendment to the health care legislation.  Debate, I get.  Screaming and yelling, sure.  Stonewalling?  Outrageous.  That senator ought to be in the penalty box for the rest of his term.

I can drive my Hummer, but Obama, Obama, needs to save us from Waterworld (I really can’t handle that horrible 1980s/90s movie turning out to be prophetic).

If Obama doesn’t fix health care, lower carbon emissions, balance the budget, reduce the deficit and increase jobs, ALL IN ONE YEAR, he will have failed.  If I remember my anniversary, I am golden for 12 months.    Wow, his job really sucks.

Being a pundit or a talking head must be great.  Sanctimony with no responsibility.

Taxi cab stories

Since I threw out my back, I have taken a lot of cabs (the subway just seemed too much to handle).

Cab drivers like to talk to me.  I must have “schmuck” written across my forehead.

One cab driver starts a conversation with, “you don’t look Christian.”  Bait me, why don’t you.  So, I say, “I am not”.  “You are Jew!!”  Oy, I think, this is going to be bad and all the world’s ills are being distilled in this one moment in a cab in holiday traffic.  I say nothing.  He says, “I know you are not Muslim.”  So I respond, “Maybe I am Sikh or Hindu.”  He laughs.  He is a Christian from Egypt.  He hates Muslims.  He says all the Muslim cab drivers are terrorists.  I knew that Christians had it hard in Egypt, but he went on a diatribe against Muslims for what seemed like an eternity.  Then he says, “I don’t believe in G-d anyway.  How do I pray to G-d who makes me short and fat?” I think to say, “and with enormous earlobes” but I think better of it.  I get out of the cab, exhausted from the hatred spewing out of this guy.

That evening, in another cab, the driver asks me, “have you done all your holiday shopping?”  I respond, “I don’t celebrate these holidays.”  He says, “you are Jew!” [Now this is becoming weird.]  He goes on without a response from me, “I am Muslim and I know you are not Muslim.” So I try my Sikh or Hindu line on this guy.  He laughs, too.  I ask him where he is from.  “Egypt.”  Ok, I don’t usually get Egyptian cab drivers and in this one day alone, I have an Egyptian Christian and now an Egyptian Muslim.  So I ask, “who do you think will succeed Hosni Mubarak?”  He answers, “Mubarak’s son will, but that is no democracy, that is a dynasty like Syria or Jordan.  I would vote for Boutros Boutros Gali, but he is a Christian and a Christian head of state would never be allowed in a Muslim country.”  I mention that no one ever thought that a black man would be president of the United States.  He responds, “I live in this country and I am glad to have a job, so I do not worry about politics.  But it would be great if Mr. Obama were President of Egypt!!”

An angry Christian and a grateful Muslim. Each the opposite of what the other envisions.

The next day I get into a cab and the radio is on.  Someone is talking about global warming.  “Miss, do you believe in this global warming?” I respond yes.  “My village will be flooded in 2050!  I must buy a boat!”  Ok, no one has EVER been cheerful about global warming.  Clearly, this guy is out of kilter, just like our ecosystem.  “Where are you from?”  “Bangladesh, Miss. Do you hear of it?” “Yes, of course, but I heard on CNN that the flooding [other than during rainy season and when India opens a large dam] in Bangladesh won’t be bad until 2100,” I say, trying to be helpful and upbeat [ok, now I am in his crazy world of surreality]. I think, wow, coastal cities in the US will be flooded.  Good thing we live on the fourth floor.  Now I am crazy enough to drive a cab.

Next week I take the subway, even if I have to crawl up and down the steps.

The Worst Job in the World goes to . . .

President Obama.  Poor guy.

Imagine if the size of your ears were scrutinized. 

Imagine if the guy who had your job overspent, took too many vacations, broke the law, got some of the neighbors’ kids killed, made all your lenders angry and now some are threatening to come after you with a shot gun.  Oh, and he forgot to tell you, the building is in foreclosure and the vending machine is busted.

Imagine if your words parsed for meaning.   A mere, “Good morning,” could cause hours of “news” commentary on your inflection, your eye contact and whether or not you smiled.  Hey, with such tough audiences, I would read from teleprompters, too.

Imagine if you couldn’t take a walk without it being, literally, an issue of national security.

Imagine if every morning you had to deal with two wars, bankers, a psycho in Iran building nuclear weapons, Israeli settlements, global warming, souring health care reform, joblessness and an economic crisis du jour.

Imagine if everyone feels entitled to have an opinion on your private life.

Imagine if you could never make a mistake.  EVER.