The Albino Peacock

Posted on October 10, 2011 by 40andover

On Yom Kippur day, POB (partner of blogger) took sick and I was recovering from my contagion and we were clearly not going back to synagogue. I rallied SOS (our son, source of sanity) to take a walk with me, but first he had to have a meltdown about not be able to take his scooter with us. I had to draw a line, such as it was, since it WAS the holiest of holy days after all.

We ambled up Broadway. In fact I dragged SOS up Broadway. “Penance,” I whispered quietly, “for the sin that I have sinned against G-d by . . . .”

No, dear SOS, we weren’t going to browse in Bank Street Bookstore. Nope, no ice cream either. We are just walking. Now imagine the response: silent treatment from hell interspersed by whiny demands for better parents. Obviously, I didn’t self-flagellate enough during these Holy Days. I obviously needed this for true atonement. I had thought to look around for broken glass and hot coals so I could walk on them. But, no need, I had my child to torture me.

SOS’s mood did brighten considerably when I said that we would cut through the Columbia campus to Amsterdam and then walk home. You could see in his eyes that he knew liberation from the cruel bondage (of walking ten blocks) was within reach. “E-mom, is the DVR recording on Yom Kippur?” I looked at him. “I withdraw the question.” Wow, that gene replacement therapy is working.

As we walked through the Columbia quad, I felt like we stepped outside Manhattan and onto any non-urban campus. I don’t think I have been around that many 17-22 year-olds since I left college. My initial thought was that I could just naturally blend into the scene.

Then reality hit: I see me when I look at them and they see a middle age women when they look at me.

[For those of you who know Fiddler on the Roof, join me: When did I stop looking so youthful? When did I start to act so old? Wasn’t it yesterday when we were at the mall? Sunrise, sunset.]

Back to reality (after a fashion).

As we were walking down Amsterdam, SOS interrupted my self-pity about wasted youth and asked if we were permitted to go to St John the Divine on Yom Tov.

Really? I panicked because I was so sure that, on this clear day, lightning was about to strike.

SOS interpreted my panic as disapproval. “It’s ok, E-Mom, we don’t have to go into a church. I just wanted to see the albino peacock.”

“The whaaaat?”

“Eeeeeee-Mom,” SOS said in that way that was accompanied by a you’re-so-stupid-how-do-you-manage-to-breathe eye roll, “albino means all white and the albino peacock lives in the garden. It’s sort of like a refuge for it.”

No joke: http://www.flickr.com/photos/porto/128123180/

“Oh, ok, buddy, then it is ok if we go to church,” I said as I readied to throw my son out of the way of the thunderbolt or flood that will whisk me away to hell.

My grandmother used to kiss the mezzuzah and put money in the pushke (the charity box) to get around minor infractions of Jewish kosher laws so her children could drink milk before bed if bedtime was less than six hours after a meat dinner. Would this work on the holiest of holy days? My mind was going through all of the usual arguments for the KM/MP (kiss mezzuzah/money in pushke) panacea as we were getting closer to St. John the Divine. Would we have to go in the church to get to the garden where the peacock lives? Churches are beautiful but still . . . .

Luckily we didn’t have to go into the church to reach the garden. Phew.

The garden where the peacock lives is set very far back from Amsterdam and so quiet and lovely. SOS and I held hands and watched the peacock in the hushed quiet of this little garden that seemed miles away from the pulse of the City. It is an extraordinary bird. http://www.flickr.com/photos/porto/128122920/in/set-72057594105452625/ I bet that there are swirls and patterns on the feathers but we can’t see them on the white-on-white feathers. http://www.flickr.com/photos/porto/310756506/in/set-72057594105452625/

And those moments were exhilarating and transcendent.

Yes, Yom Kippur 5772, the day that two wandering Jews found beauty in a rare creature on the grounds of a church. And it felt like a blessing.

Al Chet

Posted on October 8, 2011 by 40andover

The “Al Chet” is a commual confessional said ten times during Yom Kippur. (There is also the silent, personal confessional said ad nauseum, so it isn’t as easy as it sounds.)

For the Al Chet (guttural “ch”), each line starts with: “For the sin we have committed before [G-d]” and then gets pretty detailed:

under duress or willingly; by hard-heartedness; inadvertently; with immorality; openly or secretly; with knowledge and with deceit; through speech: by deceiving a fellowman; by improper thoughts; by verbal [insincere] confession; by disrespect for parents and teachers; by using coercion; desecrating the Divine Name; with evil inclination; by false denial and lying; by a bribe-taking or a bribe-giving hand; in business dealings; by eating and drinking; with proud looks; with impudence; and on and on.

After every few, we Jews ask: V’al kulam Eloha s’lichot, s’lach lanu, m’chal lanu, kaper lanu (For all of these things, G-d of forgiveness, pardon us, forgive us, let us atone.)

Generally, I really dig in deep when it comes to the sins of pride, speaking ill of someone, improper thoughts and eating and drinking. Ok, impudence, too. And, ok ok ok ok, taking G-d’s name in vain. But as a general matter, I am comfortable that the other sins are not mine in particular although on Yom Kippur we stand as a community and “own” these sins as a group.

Still, while the confessional is detailed but it is easy not to connect with the words on the page. So, at our synagogue, during Selichot (the prep holiday for the Ten Days of Sorry), our synagogue congregants write down sins for which they seek atonement. [a side note: just the “Ten Days of Sorry” comment is going to be a BIG issue for 5773 if I last so long.]

Some of the “al chets” were: littering, not recycling, abusing substances, infidelity and unprotected sex. While this may be ground-breaking in an Orthodox shul or a church, in our synagogue serving the gay, bisexual, transgendered, intersex, queer-identified community, their families and their friends (the printing is getting soooo expensive) with a social justice mandate (as if being home to everyone and literally his or her Jewish mama isn’t social justice enough), these “al chets”, too, have become rather mundane over 20 years.

But there was one “al chet” that stuck with me: for the sin that I have sinned against G-d by maligning Orthodox Jews.

Whoa!!!! That stopped me in my tracks. I used to greet Jews with a kippah (skull cap) or a sheidl (wig) as fellow travelers seeking a good, meaningful life. I learned over the years that one doesn’t inherit religious or ethical principles. So, a child with a yarmulke can be as good or as evil or as somewhere-in-between as the rest of us. Yet, they wear a costume of piety. I have learned first hand about how some kosher, Sabbath observing, “pious” Jews are not ethical, moral or righteous.

I have been crushed, disillusioned and personally harmed by the nefarious, immoral and dishonest deeds of those parading as pious, even those who are called “rabbi”. And not because they object to my sexual orientation (there is no prohibition against lesbians in Torah).

As a result, I do deal with Orthodox Jews with greater suspicion than I do others. And that is wrong. The good and right thing is to assess each person according to that person’s merits.

It all comes down to a derivative of the golden rule: Don’t judge a book by its cover.

For the sin that I have sinned by maligning all orthodox Jews on account of a few pretenders AND wanting to rip off their Yamulkes or sheidls, Eloha s’lichot (G-d of forgiveness), pardon me, forgive me, let me atone. But if the person deserves it, I want the Heavens to clap with thunder and the angels to blow those crazy little bugels, ok?
Wow, Yom Kippur is over by less than two hours and I am soooo cooked for next year. . . . . . .

Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah 5772

Posted on September 28, 2011 by 40andover

SOS (our son, source of sanity) decided that he preferred his former blog “handle”, TLP (the little prince). I am worried.

But I was immediately distracted by how adorable he was in his blue blazer, tan slacks, penny loafers, and bow-tie and my heart melted. Just FYI: I keep suggesting “regular” ties, but SOS (or TLP) demurs. I think because he knows the bow-tie makes him irresistible to many women (not only his moms). He doesn’t want to chance missing out on the “boob crush” hugs he gets from all the lesbians in the synagogue (hey, breasts are breasts). When he gets taller and there is no boob bonus in the hugs, he’ll probably switch to regular ties. Just a guess.

SOS lasted nearly the whole service, which is quite extraordinary for an adult, let alone a child. “E-Mom, does every word end in “echa” in Hebrew?” Almost, buddy.

The service was a mixture of celebration, remembrance, solemnity and a little irreverence (we are after all, a gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender, queer and intersex congregation).

The Torah portion we read tomorrow the binding of Isaac by his father Abraham. I have always hated this story. A crazy father, a submissive son, and a psychopathic deity. With a heritage like this, we should start therapy in utero.

What do we learn from that Biblical story, other than we shouldn’t read the Bible to our children, especially before bedtime?

I still don’t get why Abraham was so willing to kill Isaac that the angel twice had to tell Abraham to stop before Abraham put down the knife.

I don’t understand why it is part of our liturgy except for us to be horrified by it. Our rabbi noted that the story seems to defy the requirements elsewhere in Torah for us, as a community, to teach, love and shelter all of our children. Abraham, the parent generation, is so invested in his belief that he is willing to kill Isaac, the child generation, regardless of whether Isaac has the same commitment.

I never thought of it quite that way — we say we love our children but we send them to battle the wars we decide to wage. It is as true then and it is today in Iraq and Afghanistan, and in countless other places where wars have been waged so long that no one remembers peace. We are horrified at the ghastly stories of child abuse here and yet we barely remember that we have sent thousands of other people’s children to war this year alone.

Love your children.

Protect your children.

Teach your children.

Remember peace.

Days of Awe, 5772

Posted on September 25, 2011 by 40andover

Jews have a strange way of celebrating holidays. Take the New Year, for example. Most of the world celebrates a new year with parties, presents or hangovers. Not Jews. It’s all about death and destruction.

Our new year 5772 begins Wednesday at sunset with Rosh Ha-Shanah, the birthday of the world. (I always forget to ask if that is based on the first day or sixth day of creation).

Every new year, we begin by fighting for our mortal lives.

On Rosh Ha-Shanah, our ancient rabbis taught that our fates for the coming year are “penciled-in” and, ten days later, on Yom Kippur, they are sealed – for life or death, for health or sickness, happiness or sorrow, wealth or not-so-much wealth. And because Jews can be lugubrious at times, we go through the recitation of how many ways we could die — water, fire, disease, famine, war, etc. (The list goes on and on. Who knew that there were so many ways to die prior to modern warfare?)

During the 10 days, one can sway G-d from the harshest of punishments by our good acts, repentance and atonement for our sins committed during the prior year (here, 5771) and return to the principles of our faith. Nevertheless, it all pretty much puts a damper on any thoughts of parties with confetti, funny hats and noise makers.

We don’t even sing happy birthday to the world. If I were the maker of the world, there would be hell to pay (no scare tactics, there) if some massive number of earthly beings, sea creatures and plants didn’t start a rousing round of “G-d’s a jolly good fellow — um — non-corporal entity”.

Living year-to-year like this makes a person wonder why a Jew takes out a 30-year mortgage, or eats vegetables instead of ice cream. I guess I understand the 30-year mortgage — why buy something with cash if your fate the next Yom Kippur is shall-we-say “tentative”? Better to borrow money and leave more liquid assets to your heirs, should the fate have a negative prognosis. But vegetables? Well, I guess on a day-to-day, they are important to digestion, the specific details of which are somewhat of a preoccupation of our people.

It isn’t all sack cloth and ashes. We do gather for a meal together but we are focused on not talking about the tragic outfits at synagogue or the odd recombination of couples from last year, because it is not settled law whether for atonement purposes, these sins are included in last year’s sins or next year’s sins. And we act so sure that we will live another year, that we don’t start with dessert. The sheer hubris should get us deeper in trouble, even if we don’t have to account for it until 5773.

And then there are people like me, who think that G-d (if G-d even listens to the rituals we ascribed to Heavenly declaration) has billions of creatures to judge, so that’s why some of the good get caught up with bad and the some of the bad seem to get rewarded. Also, what a downer to have to note everyone’s sins 24/7 (ok, G-d rested on the Sabbath, so 24/6), and then have to remember all of them to give an initial prognosis on Rosh Ha-Shanah and then listen to 9 days of whining about why it wasn’t really stealing, gossip, adultery, pork or whatever. On the 10th day, I would flood the earth and start again. Wait, G-d did that once. (And by the looks of global warming, it is happening again.)

Still, I am looking forward to these ten days of awe. It is a religiously mandated time-out of the usual rhythms of life. At different times during these ten days, there is time for quiet, for chanting, for meditation, for family and for solitude.

Something in me needs space to think about my family and the world and my place in both. I have a visceral need to course-correct some aspects of my life and to resolve to do some things differently and do other things better. I think this need comes from my fears about the future of the world, our country, our economy and our humanity and their effects on my ability to provide for my family. And I need these Days of Awe to figure out how I can transform my fears into hope and action.

May this be a year of peace and other blessings for all of us, all over the world.

Just Give Us Something To Talk About

Posted on August 4, 2011 by 40andover

A friend who is slightly paranoid about being known as a friend of blogger (and ergo, SPOBFOB) and I were discussing (and, might I add, solving) the world’s ills over lunch. It is so frustrating when two people make major breakthroughs in world peace, economic policy, and moderate reformist politics and no one will let us see the President. We wouldn’t have made him take notes (he is the President); we know enough about protocol (we could write the book) to bring a short-form and long-form memoranda setting out the action points for achieving these huge global steps forward.

Not only did SPOBFOB and I have important problem solving breakthroughs, but we also took stock of the freak show that comprises the leaders of our nation. Let’s face it: Men like the game — thrust and parry, if you must — of negotiations. Women want to get the damn thing accomplished in the least amount of time with the most impact. Sure there are women who are impossible to deal with in these situations (Michelle Bachmann, par exemple) but by and large, you don’t hear women say, “let’s say this and see what they come back with” when you know full well that “saying this” will only lead to vengeful behavior and reverse any constructive negotiations up to that point. We rarely make grand pronouncements that make compromise impossible because our egos are in the way. Just sayin’.

Maybe President Obama would not like to think that he is pretty much in the same camp as John Boehner and Mitch McConnell when it comes to purposeful and constructive negotiations. Ok, so the answer is that the White House would slam the door on our advance team.

I was despondent because here we had answers and no one who would listen. I mentioned having a cable talk show and SPOBFOB came up with the brilliant idea of naming it the “Alternate View” because we look at the world quizzically and with our heads tilted, as if we were trying to understand really edgy art.

[So, this is where I go off on one of my tangents and SPOBFOB has no responsibility for anything that follows:]

We can invite our friends and family to come on the show. They represent a varied and seasoned cross-section of America. Ok, the liberal, urban/suburban, well-heeled and over-educated America. So, there would be wide national appeal. (Ok, that would be in the sovereign nation of No-Where-istan, a state of my mind (see prior blogs). But, I digress.)

Everything would be fair game, from:

did anyone really think Justin and Selena were anything but a media creation?
to: should you home school your children in places where the gay liberal communist agenda has not fully infiltrated main stream public school education?
to: should fertility treatments and surrogacy be tax deductible for same-sex couples in states where gay marriage is legal?
to: who is the sanest person in the Tea Party asylum? and is that like debating how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?
to: whether quinoa is subversive grain that could reduce America’s dependence on hamburgers?
to: how to keep skin from sagging without surgery?

And everything else anyone wants to cover.

Where do we go from here?

Posted on July 28, 2011 by 40andover

I have this terrible feeling that I, along with everyone else in this country, am being sacrificed at the altar of hubris and zealotry.

“Take no prisoners” is a way of waging war. It is not a way of governing. True believers and purists on both sides of the aisles are important counterbalances, but they cannot dictate the future of our nation. Even Grover Norquist said letting the Bush tax cuts (which affect me) expire and closing tax loopholes are not “new” taxes (phew, because if repealing subsidies for corporate jets is so problematic in these times of George W. Bush deficits, then let’s all join hands and drown ourselves). Shouldn’t the true believers be swayed? I guess it is a new, virulent strain of true believer. One that speaks to God directly. It must be a local call because the long distance charges alone could bankrupt a person.

For those who invoke G-d and destiny in the argument surrounding the raising of the debt ceiling, I send this quote:

“Do Justice, Love Mercy and Walk Humbly with your God.”

This is the answer to two questions posed in Micah, Chap. 6:8: “What does the Lord require of you? What are you supposed to do to live faithfully with your God?”

Why am quoting scripture? Because I am that desperate for the extremists to take pity on us and our nation and make some hard and dare I say, PRACTICAL, decisions.

I understand taking a hard line in the abortion debate, in the capital punishment debate and in the war debates. These are about potential life, actual life and the taking of life. But, in the money debate? I think you can tell what God thinks about money by who has the most. So, let’s not bring God into this. Let’s be honest. It is about political gain and power. And that is about as un-God-like as you can get.

You know the world is tilted in the wrong direction when I am trying to “protect” God’s good name from God’s self-proclaimed followers. As far as I can tell, they are frauds.

Mad Vow Descends on New York — And How Wonderful It Was!!!

Posted on July 25, 2011 by 40andover

It was overcast. It was pedestrian. It was a long line on Worth Street. I bet a few wondered if they could get their driver’s licenses renewed while they waited. It was spectacular. It was thrilling.

It was a jumble of emotions.

It was, except for the lines (and that it was a Sunday), so unremarkable in its normality, that I wanted to cry for joy. Yet a whole community celebrated standing in line for a marriage license — something that everyone else, until now, took for granted and, frankly, groused about. Young and old, of every nationality and race, same sex couples stood on that line. Four couples with whom we are especially close took their vows yesterday. We couldn’t find them. G-d bless texting and emails because we all knew we were there somewhere standing as witnesses.

Even Samantha Bee and Jason Jones from the Daily Show were on hand to mock the events. That is how you know you have arrived.

Some sang and danced around and under the rainbow chupah (wedding canopy) [see above shot, looking up].

There was a lone protester. He said terrible things that TLP (our son, the little prince) asked about. TLP also asked why I said, “Shame on you!!” to the protester. I told him that the protester used bad words and is spewing hate in the name of Jesus who was a man of love. “Well, E-Mom, maybe it is because you and Mommy won’t be married until June.”

G-d bless TLP. He thinks the problem is that we are living in sin. But all will be ok once we get married in June. In fact, he told some people on the subway who got married, “don’t worry, WE are getting married in June!!!” Yep, the whole family.

Sometimes it is ok to wish away a day

Posted on July 22, 2011 by 40andover

I know that each day is a gift, but some days, you wish you had the receipt so you could exchange it for a better day. Today was one of those days. Humbling, tender, sad, crazed, scary, and ultimately safe at home with my beloved family. It was not about too much work, which is a blessing in this economy, but a lot of other things which, suffice it to say, sucked.

I went out with a colleague to commiserate over a glass of wine about mutually horrific days. Afterwards, I was thinking about the blessing of coming home to my family.

And this Dan Fogelberg song started an endless loop in my head — “I have these moments all steady and strong, feeling so holy and humble. The next thing I know I’m all worried and weak, feeling the world start to crumble. . . .”

Happiness is having loved ones who will abide you when you are all holy and self-righteous and shore up your foundations when you are feeling about to crumble.

It is a moment to be thankful for the spirituality gained from a day’s worth of testing one’s sanity. It is also a moment to go to sleep, with rejuvenating cream slathered on, and promise yourself you will never have such a shitty day again.

Martin Buber meets Scarlett O’Hara. I am feeling a cosmic shift toward the drain. . .

Aleichem Sholom

Posted on July 17, 2011 by 40andover

A point of clarification on my last blog entry about SOB (sister of blogger) and DOB (dad of blogger) and the documentary they saw on Sholom Aleichem:

Sholom Aleichem was the great Yiddish writer/playwright’s nom de plume. It is a Yiddish variant of the Hebrew “shalom aleichem,” meaning “peace be with you”. The correct response, is “aleichem shalom.”

Shalom Aleichem is also a song for the Sabbath (check out this video): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72wDlNi3fJs

(Translation: Peace unto you, ministering angels, messengers of the Most High, of the supreme King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He. May your coming be in peace angels of peace, messengers of the Most High, of the supreme King of kings, the Holy one, blessed be He. Bless me with peace, angels of peace, messengers of the Most High, of the supreme King of kings, the Holy one, blessed be He. May your departure be in peace, angels of peace, messengers of the Most High, of the supreme King of kings, the Holy one, blessed be He.)

It is relevant, in some miniscule way, to this blog entry.

Today, SOB took TLP (our son, the little prince) to have lunch with DOB and then see the movie, “Cars2.” TLP was telling SOB and DOB about his favorite parts of camp and he mentioned that Shabbat services was a Friday high point. Now, there is a totally irreligious reason for this: TLP gets an extra snack of grape juice and challah. SCORE!!!!

Unfortunately, even though no one even mentioned Sholom Aleichem for almost 7 full days, DOB immediately launched into his off-key rendition of “Shalom Aleichem” in full voice for the, er, um, benefit (?) of all within earshot — other patrons of the diner and assorted vermin hiding to get away from the cacophony.

So, two irreconcilable desires derive from this episode: One, we all agree never to mention anything about Shabbat ever again in DOB’s presence, even the innocent references made by TLP. The other, is to see how quickly we can trigger the song in DOB at any time and all the time. The first option would save our sanity but the second option has a slightly mischievous appeal even though it would be tantamount to mutual assured destruction.

SOB and I are dutiful and loving daughters. Which do you think we chose? The latter of course. And, to make it even crazier, we bet on it. With each other, we only bet in the millions of dollars so we are always going for broke. It seems appropriate since we are betting on our sanity and that of DOB.

DOB is coming for dinner tomorrow night. SOB has to work, so I have the advantage. I might meet him downstairs so that I trigger it even before he crosses the threshold. I am the evil younger sibling.

But, SOB needn’t worry about transferring assets so quickly. There will always be new bets, even more cynical and macabre bets, long before the Final Accounting is due. (And, as I understand, Hell doesn’t take cash or credit cards.)

But until then, hum with me: ♫ Sha-lom a-lei-chem, mal-a-chei ha-sha-reit, mal-a-chei el-yon, mi-me-lech ma-l’chei ha-m’la-chim, ha-ka-dosh ba-ruch hu. . . . ♫

The times they are a’changing

Posted on July 6, 2011 by 40andover

I always knew I was gay. People often ask, “how could you know before you were ever with a woman?” “The same way you always knew you were straight,” I say. But the truth is that kids don’t think in terms of gay or straight. They are who they are. So, I knew as much that I was gay as straight kids knew they were straight. Labels didn’t apply yet. It only became an issue in the teenage years and beyond. I desperately tried to be like everyone else, to the point of going overboard.

In the 1970s-90s, it was something to be hidden if I wanted to be a successful lawyer, if I wanted to fit in, if I wanted to get into the right social and professional crowds. By the late 1990s, the gulf between who I was and who I pretended to be was wider than the San Andreas fault (gee, I hope that the fault line is wide, or I bungled this analogy). I was tired of the schism, and so tired of the inevitable lies that somehow never fooled anyone, that I was willing to give up some measure of “success” and “acceptance” for peace of mind and peace of being. That’s when the journey toward self-acceptance and family acceptance began. A long, winding road, filled with pot holes, and yet, at various critical points, surrounded by warmth and beauty.

Today, the Ninth Circuit ruled that the military must end “don’t ask, don’t tell”. Last week, New York legalized same-sex marriage. A recent poll reported that more people in the country support gay marriage than not.

Still, I am not equal in the United States of America, the beacon of liberty to all nations. But I am closer to equal than ever before.

I just hope that there comes a time when people wonder why there ever was a need to fight for equality — for anyone, anywhere.

40 — oh wait, yikes!! 50 — andoverblog

Aging and living in urban US

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