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.
A puzzlement
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Monthly Archives: October 2010
A Great Party
Our dad’s 90th birthday party was a wonderful success. It was a beautiful day and the party was in a greenhouse with an outdoor space.
One of my dad’s friends spoke about meeting Dad in 1943 when Dad was a corporal and his friend was a private. They re-met during the Korean War (my father almost ran him over in Tokyo) and then at dental school and have been friends for 67 years. I can’t imagine knowing someone for that long who could still say wonderful things about me. Crazy.
Lots of relatives or people who are relatives just by longevity. Follow me on this one. My aunt, my mother and Blossom (among others) were sorority sisters at college in the 1940s. (My aunt was dating my uncle and introduced my mother to her boyfriend’s brother (my dad) but that is another story for another blog entry). Blossom married my aunt’s cousin whom she divorced. (That cousin was there with his wife, even though they are not technically related either, but longevity is more important than blood anyway.) Blossom then married Aaron. Blossom died and Aaron married Marjorie. The first time POB (partner of blogger) and I met Marjorie was at a cousin’s bar mitzvah. But Marjorie must have been part of the family in another life, because she had no boundaries from the start. POB was pregnant and Marjorie turned to her and said, “Known donor or unknown donor?”. POB, having been raised in a good home and not quite used to direct, personal questions from near-strangers was so shocked that she actually answered. I then turned to POB and said, “well, now that Marjorie knows, don’t you think we ought to tell our parents?” So a person married to someone who married into the family who was married to someone who was no longer married into the family asserted family privilege to ask any question that came to mind, without filter. I love this family.
My cousins — Dad’s nieces and nephews — talked about things they remembered about Dad from when they were kids in the 1940s and 1950s. Cousin Gentle (from prior blogs) talked about how Dad gave tickets to a ball game to his father (my Uncle Dave) so Uncle Dave could take Cousin Gentle to a ball game. It turns out it was Don Larsen’s 1952 World Series perfect game. Still the only ball game that Cousin Gentle has ever attended.
Another cousin talked about Dad’s teaching her to build card houses, and another talked about Dad’s taking him to the Opera. All of them talked about the beautiful things he brought home for each of his nieces and nephews from Japan after the Korean War. They remembered him as someone interested in them and kind and gentle. It was really touching to hear new things about my Dad and hear the love expressed in those memories.
One cousin started talking about the meaning of family and how he is a trust and estates lawyer (I had to stop him from taking the opportunity for self-advertisement) and how he has seen families fight and disinherit each other. He started to go off on a tangent and get a little worked up, without an end in sight. SOB (sister of blogger) gave me a sign that I had to intervene, so I got up, went over to my cousin and took the microphone away and offered it to the next cousin who wanted to speak, in age order. Cousin Gentle and SOB now call me “Hook” because I pulled that act off the stage.
SOB talked about the first night she was an intern and was in the hospital all night and was scared and overwhelmed. At about 3am, she got a page. It was Dad, wanting to make sure she was alive. She never forgot that and it helped her through that rest of that night’s torture.
Then BOB (brother of blogger) talked beautifully about how Dad is a role model for being a good husband and father and how special it was that Dad was his best man at his wedding. BOB is not usually that emotional, introspective or even talkative around us. I was so moved. But the moment was over like a shooting star flaming out, so all returned like a flash to status quo ante. But for the moment, there was kumbaya in the air, as if it were being sung for the first time.
My dad is such a sweet, and humble man. When it came time for the cake, he thanked everyone for coming and said how fortunate he was to be surrounded by friends and family and he was grateful to everyone for being there and for their kind words. The cousin from whom I had to yank the microphone said in a stage whisper (really a stage SHOUT), “what, that is all he is going to say?” Aaaaargh. My dad said it all in a few words and did so with grace and humility. Dear Cousin, a lesson might be learned here.
We had the quintessential Jewish goodbye — we all said goodbye but didn’t leave. In fact, I must have said goodbye three or four times to the same people. The rule is if there is more than a half-hour between goodbye kiss and departure, you have to start over again. I don’t know the provenance of the rule, but it caused the goodbyes to go on for almost 2 hours. Also, it probably didn’t help that we had pictures from 1920 to the present out on a table by the door so people starting reminiscing anew as they were leaving. Some of the older folk sat down in comfy chairs to nap a little while they waited for the rest of their group to finish. I wish I had pictures of that.
Sanchez and Stewart — A Re-Think
A friend from high school sent me a message and thought I should rethink my prior blog entry on the Sanchez and Stewart dust-up (http://40andoverblog.com/?p=2921).
I re-read it and my high school friend was right that I was unduly harsh and outrageously judgmental (and, although she didn’t say it, I will add, hypocritical) in my comments about Jon Stewart’s religious observance. It is none of my business and I was out of line.
I still believe that there was a potential for a teachable moment with Rick Sanchez, where we could talk about the source of the anger. There is so much anger in our society right now that I just wish we would look more closely at it, together, and find some common ground and possibly healing.
And even as I was trying to make that point in my prior blog entry, I took a needless and shameful pot-shot at Jon Stewart. As much as I love Jon Stewart and I would bear his children if I could (POB (partner of blogger) knows this and accepts this because, well, it is biologically impossible anyway), some things about him push my buttons and I react irrationally. Maybe that it why I feel bad (a little) for Rick Sanchez (whose show is, in my opinion, so bad as to be unwatchable).
Anyway, to my high school friend, thank you for “calling me” on this and I expect you to keep me in line as you see fit.
~ Blogger
Up-Cycling
So I have been hearing about upcycling, rather than recycling. Upcycling is putting an about to be discarded article to a different use, like melding metal scraps into a chair.
I was on the subway, studying the human condition, and I saw this awesome display of upcycling: a men’s blazer re-worked at a satchel!!
(I took it with my blackberry camera so the resolution is not so great.)
What a relief to know that upcycling has nothing to do with a spin class at the gym.
Dad at 90
So, Saturday is the big birthday celebration for my dad who turned 90 this week. SOB (sister of blogger) told me I had to give a tasteful toast. (Did she think I was going to give a bawdy bachelorette party toast?)
I have been having the hardest time coming up with something to say. I don’t want it to dwell on the past because it sounds to funereal, but there is more road behind than ahead, if you see what I mean. My dad did promise me that he would live to 120, just as Moses did. Some days he is up to the task; other days, not so much.
Dad is not someone who is comfortable in the spotlight. He always referred to himself as Mom’s husband. But people are drawn to him by his effusive optimism, unassuming nature, cheerful disposition and kind heart. (He also makes us crazy by recounting every little ache and pain and digestive discomfort.)
Most of Dad’s nieces and nephews and dear friends (who are still alive) are coming to the party. In some ways it is the gathering of the clan in honor of an elder. He is the last of five brothers who lived the American Dream in varying degrees of happiness and success. He and his sister-in-law, my aunt, are the last of a generation. They will have seats of honor.
But really his birthday is about us — his family and his extended family and what his generation meant to us and how we define ourselves as more than a family — really, a clan. He and our aunt form our link to our heritage — they are the last of our family’s Yiddish speakers, they are the last to be born into poverty and ride the rising tide of the American Century.
We stand on their shoulders as we do on the shoulders of our uncles and aunts who are no longer alive. They made possible our lives and our choices.
Of course, it IS about Dad on his birthday. I hope he looks back with satisfaction and wonder at his years so far, and I hope he doesn’t think that this party is the coda, but rather a reflection point on a continuing life well lived.
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:
- 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.
- 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).
- 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. . . .
Photographs and memories
We — the kids — are throwing a 90th birthday party for our Dad. It is coming up, so SOB (sister of blogger) and I spent a few hours combing through old pictures that would go on a big poster board put up on an easel.
It wasn’t easy choosing among the pictures. There are some as old as 1926 and as recent as last weekend. Some are of individuals, and others are group shots. We have pictures of cousins, friends, parents, grandparents and great-grandparents and some long-forgotten friends and family. I looked at pictures of long dead relatives when they were young and laughing (and smoking and drinking). Happy moments in sometimes hard lives.
A picture is worth 1,000 words, as an old adage goes. Except the people who know those 1,000 words — and can tell the story, the back-story and gossip that brings the picture to life — are dead or have forgotten. And when they were alive or could remember, I was too young to be interested. And so, we have the pictures and sometimes notes and dates jotted on the backs. There is a picture of my uncles in uniform with my grandparents. Were they shipping out? Were they on leave? Were they home after the war was over? The picture is small and the resolution not so great, so it is hard to tell their ages. And my grandparents always looked ancient, anyway. So, were my uncles scared about going to war, just on leave, or relieved that it was over and that they survived?
I wish I had 1,000 words for each of these pictures because now I am ready to hear the stories and learn the personal histories. Now I know that people don’t live forever. And I was so young and self-involved when people were trying to tell me. And so I lost the richest part of my inheritance.
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.”
Turning the spin on my head
I had a long talk with my retirement coach.
What, you don’t have a retirement coach?
Wait, you’ve never heard of a retirement coach?
Where do you live? Really, you live on the planet Earth?
Ok, I made it up. That’s what I call my financial adviser. Because, why would I need a financial adviser if not to help me retire as soon as possible and preferably before my death. Otherwise, a financial adviser would just cause me pain every time I followed her advice and lost money. But, if I call her a coach and I still lose money, then it feels like a competitive sport where I put on my “game face” and try to overcome my losing score to make my coach happy. You would think every financial adviser would pay me to convince their clients to think of them this way.
The bad news is that I have to give up my dream of retiring at 62 to try my hand at stand-up comedy. The good news is that I am healthy and can continue to work until I die.