President Obama, Save the Date

Posted on June 27, 2011 by 40andover

Dear President Obama:

I know, deep down, in your heart of hearts, you are not anti-gay marriage. In fact, I think you don’t understand why people draw the line in the sand on this issue. Given what a mess heterosexuals make of marriage, who should care if more people want to get married and then pay the marriage tax, to boot. If some crazy gays want to do this, then G-d bless, right?

But you’ve missed the point. It’s about taxation.

People don’t want to subject us queers to the marriage tax because the problem in Washington is spending, not revenue.

How about if you have a special tax code exemption for us so we don’t have to see our hard-earned dollars go into social programs? Maybe speak with Majority Leader Boehner (and how come his name isn’t pronounce “Boner” anyway?) about this. I am sure that he will drop his Defense of Marriage Act defense once he realizes the gay marriage is not back door taxation. (Don’t even think that was a clever pun for those who are male.)

Look, the GOP standard bearers want to protect our lives and our incomes. Why else would they not want us to serve in the military? And not marry? Well, aren’t we the unanticipated darlings of the far-right?

This is the triple negative political action play that is making my head spin. But never mind the GOP.

Andrew Cuomo, Bill Clinton and Hillary Clinton have all stepped on the bandwagon. Now I know the Clintons aren’t running for political office anymore (maybe a seat on the Supreme Court . . . ). But Cuomo figures by 2016, equality will be a non-issue. And he is right. But you are in the “here and now” where it is gutsy to be a sitting President and lead by example.

You’re in a tough spot. Let me sweeten the pot. POB (partner of blogger) and I are getting married next year. We had planned it well before the vote because we just wanted to celebrate our family and friends.

There’s an invitation with Michelle’s and your names on it if you just say. . .

“Yes, gays can.”

Pride, 2011

Posted on June 25, 2011 by 40andover

I have been glued to Yahoo and Google News for a week waiting for the gay marriage vote in New York’s Senate. Tick tock, tick tock. Apprehension turned to despair as Friday morning turned into afternoon turned into twilight.

POB (partner of blogger) and I went to synagogue for Pride Shabbat. It was standing room only, as it often is, but there was something hanging in the air. As we sang hallels (songs of praise) and chanted the ancient affirmation of faith, we knew that change was in the air. The air was thick with anticipation, with hope and promise and maybe a little resentment that our love and commitments needed legislative legitimacy. (Especially in a time where we don’t hold our elected officials in the highest esteem.)

The rabbi, who eschews modern-day devices on Shabbat, was not displeased to be informed by those on their gadgets about the minute by minute developments, which she dutifully conveyed to the congregation. I think she also wanted to keep people seated as we all yearned to be at Stonewall on Sheridan Square (in mind if not in middle-aged body) to celebrate. She told us that our services would conclude before the New York Senate vote was finished, and she reminded us that the Stonewall riots didn’t start until Saturday morning, after Jews were finished at synagogue, saying the Mourner’s Prayer for Judy Garland, whose funeral that day probably sparked the patrons of Stonewall to fight back against the police that night.

I have been a privileged white woman all my life. I am Jewish, a minority for sure, but I live in New York City where the public schools close for our major holidays. I wasn’t a second class citizen until I realized I was gay. And then realized that there were groups in the country — and the world — who foisted every societal failing on our “evil” love: divorce, plagues, wild fires, floods, etc. How evil could we be if we contribute more in tax dollars, charitable giving, cohesion of community, and frankly, good parenting than most? And still these, these, “righteous” people wielded power over my life, livelihood, legal rights and happiness.

I wonder now why people were rejoicing when the Civil Rights Act was passed. I think people should have been seething that degradation and abuse should have taken so damn long to be outlawed.

While I applaud Governor Cuomo, and those who voted their conscience on Friday, I am not grateful. If I were grateful, it would imply that I received something possibly undeserved. Actually, my anger at having to be “protected” is oozing from my pores. “Why did anyone have this power over me in the first place?”

I am here, I am queer and, no matter what, I am too old to be at Stonewall celebrating anyway.

Another year, another synagogue retreat

Posted on May 2, 2011 by 40andover

This year’s synagogue retreat didn’t provide as much blogging material as last year’s. But I have a gift of missing the whole point of a spiritual retreat. But someone said that G-d is in the details. That can’t be correct; see below.

The retreat started the same as last year, with the welcome sign that dared me to wreak such havoc that the sign would be revised to read “Maybe we are blessed by your arrival”.

Next year, I hope to report back that my efforts were successful.

The theme of the retreat was “transitions”. Actually, throughout the retreat, there were some really poignant and insightful observations as to certain life cycle and relationship transitions. Even I have to admit (grudgingly) that the discussions and religious services did strike chords in me.

There was a specific emphasis on inclusion of members of the transgender community and their stories and issues. Accordingly, our name tags listed our preferred pronouns, such as “she/her” “ze/hir” “he/his” “they/their”. My selections were so ordinary:

We got an upgrade from our accommodations last year. As you may remember, we stayed in a bungalow that the forest was in process of reclaiming. Apparently, nature correctly recognized it as a compost before the retreat management did. This year, our accommodations ranked a few levels above girl scout camp:

Ok, maybe just one level above girl scout camp. But we did have a mini-fridge.

The camp keeps the Sabbath and maintains a kosher kitchen. So, no coffee on the Sabbath. A riot almost breaks out each year. I heard someone offer anyone $1,000 for a latte. That night, the same person was offering even more for a shot of tequila, right after everyone found out there was no wine with dinner. Ok, the camp maybe “shomer shabbos” (Sabbath observant) but us visitors, well, not so much.

Also, the food was not so kid-friendly (cholent, quinoa with fruit and string beans, etc.), so one family broke the Sabbath and drove their kids to McDonald’s because the kids could find nothing to eat. Hey, living by Torah means that you can’t let your kids starve. (We packed enough snacks, yogurt and fruit so that TLP (our son, the little prince) would have enough to eat. We also had to rely on this stash.)

But there are helpful reminders to everyone about religiosity, especially in one’s most private moments:

(Same sign as last year, but good material is good material.)

The camp is also a working farm, so we saw Hasidic Jews tending to the goats. There was goatyurt for sale, “blessed” goat cheese, and other kumbaya stuff. In fact, the gift shop offered bottles of essence of peace of mind and women’s cycles.

Kumbaya, my Lord, Kumbaya. Oh, Lord, kumbaya.

I don’t know if POB (partner of blogger) can convince me to go for a third time.

Seder

Posted on April 20, 2011 by 40andover

I am always nervous ahead of our family Seder.

I do some preparation ahead of time, including copying pages of the text (in English and Hebrew) with a theme in mind. This year’s theme was: how is our ancient story relevant to Arab Spring? Dad came up with that. Pretty awesome for a near-91 year-old.

Even though I plan it out and “run it”, I lose control of the Seder almost immediately. Our family’s idea of exercise is a rigorous argument, and it always starts with, “We are told . . . ” and every response starts with a silent “oh, yeah?”.

Almost immediately in the readings (think, “we are told”) G-d says he will stiffen Pharaoh’s heart again and again. (Listen for the “oh, yeah”s.) Ok, let the exercise begin: Don’t Jews believe in free will? If Pharaoh doesn’t have free will, then do any of us? Or does G-d sometimes intercede and constrain free will? And isn’t the concept illusory because how we act in any situation is dictated by our past and learned responses? And can we cast off that prior learning and should we?

I’m telling you, our brains hurt even if our guts were growing from the fantastic meal made by POB (partner of blogger).

(The brisket was delicious. Of course, my Dad couldn’t help criticizing my less-than-uniform carving. But his critique is a necessary part of our family tradition. If he didn’t, I would rush him to the hospital.)

On the Seder table is a Seder plate. The Seder plate contains the symbols of the holiday for all Jews — egg (rebirth and renewal), parsley (springtime), charoset (chopped up apple concoction for the bricks and mortar but sweet because of deliverance), bitter herbs (for the bitterness of slavery), salt water (for the tears of slavery) and the shankbone (representing the blood that was spread over the doorposts of the Israelites so the Angel of death would pass over).

For us, I would add a few more symbols of our family’s festive rejoicing:

זול יין — a bottle of the cheap wine my Dad brings because he can no longer taste the difference (for the record, I wouldn’t even cook with it);

משה בובה–our Moses action figure, complete with staff and detachable Ten Commandments (for the obligatory smashing episode);

שעון עצר — a stop watch because SOB (sister of blogger) gives me exactly one hour and then she shuts down the service, in favor of eating; and

הגדה — the second part of the Haggadah to remind us that we don’t persecute our family by making everyone continue the service after the meal.

Happy holidays to all.

Twas the day before Passover, and all through the house. . .

Posted on April 17, 2011 by 40andover

It is really the day before the eve of the holiday (because we celebrate holidays from sunset to sunset) but every creature was stirring. Heck, 15 people are coming over.

POB (partner of blogger) made a vat of chicken soup. She rendered chicken fat which, if you’ve done it, you know that is a disgusting necessity for light, floating matzo balls. The whole house smells like a barn. And while we are talking about matzo balls, I need to note for the record that the Blogger family tradition is that matzo balls sink, not float. Their intended purpose — so say those in my tribe — is to line your stomach for the coming week of no bread and also give you a reason to complain about intestinal issues, e.g., (in a Yiddish accent) “I ate such a heavy matzo ball that it is cement in my stomach, and boy-oh-boy, have I got troubles getting anything out!!”. However unpleasant, it is my inheritance.

But MOPOB (mother of POB), may she rest in peace, made floating matzo balls. And since Passover is all about MOPOB (my mother’s memory is invoked on Thanksgiving), we “sinkers” just sigh and “boing” the matzo balls with our figures, wondering if, with a little push, they might sink. No such luck these past few years. So part of our Passover narrative (“and you shall tell your children on that day . . . “) also includes the sinker-floater dichotomy, because as surely as there were Israelites on the shore of the Red Sea, they were also arguing about whose matzo was better. So, it is just in keeping with the tradition. So I shall tell my child that “on that day” there were no floaters in the land of Egypt. Ok, that isn’t fair because there weren’t sinkers either. There wasn’t matzo ball soup. But history is written by the conquerors and vanquished loud-mouths. I can live with being in the latter category on the matzo ball issue.

Those of you who aren’t Jewish may not appreciate that importance of this. This is a divide that can splinter families. We are talking about our grandmothers’ and great grandmothers’ recipes. We are talking about the overbearing, tyrannical beings that, upon death, miraculously turned into angels in everyone’s memories. We are talking about tradition. [Start singing from Fiddler on the Roof.] This is big.

But MOPOB’s traditions must prevail. She was terminally ill at our first Seder in our home in 2006. She pronounced herself satisfied with the celebration — a high compliment and tantamount to a blessing on our home and us — and then, within 36 hours was hospitalized and soon died. You can’t mess with that heavy trip.

I needed chairs and an extra table from my Dad. We had lunch and then went down to the storage bins in his apartment building. Dad is looking great these days, although slower since his fall two weeks ago. Still he grabbed the hand truck at the entrance to this scary storage room in the bowels of his apartment building. Only one light worked. He and I were feeling around in the dark for his folding table and chairs. We found them and managed not to fall or otherwise hurt either of us. Every year we go through this ritual and I make a note to self to remind the doorman about the lighting. Every year, Dad and I forget. Every year, we grope in the dark until we find what we need. So far, it has worked for us. Tradition.

Tradition.

Tradition.

Dear Paul

Posted on April 12, 2011 by 40andover

Dear Paul:

I am not a Ryan, but I know members of your extended family.

I know you come from such a good family, with strong community values based in religious precepts, like the one about taking care of the poor and the stranger. Or the other one about not putting a stone in the way of a blind person. And even though Rabbi Hillel said, “do unto others as you would have them do unto you,” that is totally in sync with the Christian Bible.

Here’s the big problem with your budget:

No amount of spending cuts is going to get us out of the hole caused by waging war in Iraq, Afghanistan and, now, Libya.

Paying for these requires tax increases. (Remember when the GOP just put the Iraq and Afghanistan tabs on the credit card and, oops, forgot to put these line items in the budget??????)

Cut all you want from social programs, etc. Go on.

But one year from now, when the deficit is still essentially as large as it now, there will need to be a tax increase on all Americans.

All you will have done is gutted the social compact that each generation has with another: we will not leave those vulnerable in our society — the young and the old — to fend for themselves. The very social compact that makes America great.

What are you thinking?

Roma, Day 1

Posted on February 21, 2011 by 40andover

Day 1 in Rome and we woke up earlier than I ever get up usually.

We had a 8am guided tour of the religious sites. We decided that we really needed someone to schlep us around Vatican City because, other than going to the Sistine Chapel, we weren’t so wild about the Holy See.

I am so glad we did. The Basilica was spectacular. Ok, the sarcophagi were a little eerie and the slightly decomposed body of Pope John the twenty-something lying in state was not a highlight. The mosaics that look like paintings were unbelievably beautiful and we were in awe of the art and craftsmanship. And it was fun to have a tour guide holding up a red umbrella because it was sooooo kitsch. The Vatican gift shop is a trip — the Popes, Jesus and Mary in every pose, on every precious metal and for every occasion. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty and art of the Holy See that I had to hold myself back from buying a cross (of course, one without a Jesus). And I am Jewish, as in Jewish-from-New-York Jewish, as in two-generations-from-the-boat-to-Ellis-Island Jewish. Luckily, I quickly re-morphed into Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were.

This tour was great and arranged through the travel agency, 206 Tours.

We had lunch and then a little nap. (When in Rome . . . .)

Then we walked around and found the Spanish Steps and walked more and found the obelisks which were plundered when Rome was the seat of an empire.

The mix of people in Rome rivals that of New York. Asian and Mediterranean people speaking Italian. Of course, it shouldn’t be a shock. Still, in a place where there are more churches than anything else, it is wild. We saw a Muslim mother and daughter on the street, speaking Italian. The mother wore a head scarf and jeans. The daughter wore a mini-skirt with spandex leggings. The big take-away from this for me was that older women wear sensible shoes in Rome and younger women wear high heels on cobblestone streets. (Wait, was there another message in this?)

Rome is a beautiful, ancient and yet modern city. You can’t walk two blocks without being astonished and awed by the beautiful antiquity that lives side-by-side with bustling modernity.

Tomorrow, Villa Borghese and Colosseum/Forum. By Wednesday, I am going to need to see the Jewish Ghetto because I know that there will be no crucifixion scenes, no murals depicting the tragic deaths of martyrs and saints and no arenas where people fought to the death for amusement. I love the history and walking where ancients walked. However, we are on vacation and there is a limit to the suffering I can handle, whether ancient or modern. I know it isn’t politic, but it is the truth.

And of course our son had gelato. And so the day was a success.

Sunday School

Posted on February 13, 2011 by 40andover

My son has a Hebrew tutor on Sunday mornings. He goes to our synagogue’s bi-monthly Saturday program, but that is more about culture and being part of an LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer) community. (Please don’t ask me to explain bi-sexuality or queer-identification. Those concepts arose after I settled down and became middle-aged.)

He has 4.5 years until his Bar Mitzvah and he needs to be able to read Hebrew. I would also like him to understand modern Hebrew, as well, which is about as different from biblical Hebrew as English is from Russian. And I think it would be more fun and interesting for him. And that means he would squirm less in class and learn more. You get the picture and, of course, as with many of my blog entries, it all must end in Kumbaya (this time sung in Hebrew).

Today, POB (partner of blogger) and I took turns going to the gym while our son had Hebrew class. Since my gym is close to West Side Judaica, I took the opportunity to go in and see about kids’ books that have been translated into Hebrew (POB’s great idea for transitioning into modern-day Hebrew). I was looking for books like Goodnight Moon or the Giving Tree that our son read when he was young. He would know the story and be able to connect Hebrew words with its English counterpart and . . . you get the idea.

I walk into West Side Judaica looking, as one might expect, as if I had just come from the gym, complete with ear buds attached to my iPod. All Hassidic men in this store. Can you say culture clash?

So, I ask Shloymi (that is really his name) if he had children’s books.

“Do I have children’s books? Of course!! I have a beautiful section full of beautiful books!! For every child, I have a book.”

The melodic Yiddisha English is comforting to me because it reminds me of my grandparents. I decided that his last comment wasn’t a dig at the sad nature of my child’s life since he was not being raised in an orthodox home. I also decided that I would not be passive-aggressive and mention that we were two lesbians raising a Jewish boy. I think that admirable restraint deserves an honorable mention and, voilá, here it is.

There were indeed many books. All in English and all about G-d and wonderful Torah stories that will keep children trembling before G-d. Greeaaaat.

I ask a younger man, Chaim, whether there were English books translated into Hebrew.

“Ach,” he said, “we have Curious George [really, is that what we export?], we have . . . .”

He pointed me in another direction. I found shelves of books. The problem is that I don’t speak or read modern Hebrew. So, how do I know what I am buying? I look at the pictures. Like any other illiterate.

Then I saw it!! The distinct pea green color of the “Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein. And there is the tree on the cover (the back cover because Hebrew is read left to right). And then, I read, in the only thing that is English transliterated with Hebrew letters:

של סילברסטיין

(SHEL SILVERSTEIN!!)

Hooray!! Reform Judaism’s redemption in front of Chaim and Shloymi.

My son was not as excited as I about the book. So I have begun reading it, in Hebrew. Why is this book so important to me?

I bought the book years ago, when our nanny, Leta Murray, died (may her memory be for a blessing). She was my siblings’ and my nanny for 18 years (make no comment). I read it and cried, because she was the tree and I was the taking child. I know she knows that I loved her and still do. So, I will teach my child, in Hebrew and in English, the importance of being the giving tree and not the taking child. At least, not always.

מדור לדור

(from generation to generation)

Who am I; What am I?

Posted on October 28, 2010 by 40andover

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.

A puzzlement

Posted on October 11, 2010 by 40andover

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.

40 — oh wait, yikes!! 50 — andoverblog

Aging and living in urban US

Category Archives: religion