First Family Sunday Brunch of 2010

Posted on January 3, 2010 by 40andover

So, last week, as I mentioned in my blog, as part of our family tradition, we gather together on the Sunday after Christmas for brunch to kvetch while our mouths are full of food.

Because at that brunch we didn’t kvetch enough or talk enough about our petty grievances against the humanity, the world and the next door neighbor, we re-convened at my house this Sunday. We hoped the snarky energy that I emit in my home would provide a better venue for the spirit of our gathering.

Unfortunately, my sister couldn’t come because she had to cover for a sick colleague (“Doctor, heal thyself,” I say). Besides the patients are so used to rounds, they could round themselves. Still, my sister is a professional and went to the aid of her patients. So, already, good karma started to push out my snarky energy. AND IN MY OWN HOME. How galling.

My brother-in-law came and he is really too sweet to have to carry the banner of acerbic, sarcastic humor. He also has high blood pressure and a teensy cholesterol problem. So, I ratted him out in the middle of brunch when he ate chocolate cake by sending the following pictures by email to my hard-working sister:

Needless to say, my brother-in-law is now on a diet of lentils, rice, and anti-oxidants.

Also, our dear cousin for whom my sister broke ground by cooking scrambled eggs, came this Sunday. If my sister can cook eggs, well, I can, too.

SO THERE!!!

We are NOT competitive. Really. Nooooo, sireeeee.

Anyway, another cousin came over, too. He is really a wonderful kid and it was actually hard to be snarky. It was an odd feeling to want to be nice and gentle. Wow, age does mellow a person.

But, let’s re-evaluate tomorrow.

The Clan

Posted on December 29, 2009 by 40andover

On Sunday we gathered at my sister’s house for the traditional Jewish post-Christmas brunch, to go over the number of tourists who got in our way and the number of merry people who infected the usual ennui and bad humor that are so quintessentially New York. Because we are open-hearted, if narrow-minded, my sister’s Catholic husband was welcomed to join. We sat down to a traditional meal — high in salt smoked fish oils and low nutrition and low in any nutritive value. Not a vitamin in sight.

But something different happened this Sunday, and I have yet to process the event fully. I saw — or else I would not believe this — my sister cook something. Our cousin can no longer eat the usual fare that is our cultural comfort foods. My sister, who had never before used her stove, made our cousin freshly scrambled eggs.

Last year, she got married to a wonderful man who is kind and always in a good mood.

This year she is cooking nourishing food. I can see a trend, but I can’t yet see the trajectory.

For background, my mother and I had suggested to my sister, when she bought her apartment in 1999, that she just convert the kitchen to a den. All she needed were a phone, a stack of take-out menus and a mini-bar fridge for diet coke. But she insisted that an apartment needed a kitchen. So we suggested that she get the fiberglass demo version of a stove to save some money. A few years after she moved in, my partner finally took out the plastic envelope with the care instructions and warranties and turned on a burner. (I was horrified that she diminished the resale value for no apparent reason.)

I was nervous seeing my sister at the stove, thinking she might hurt herself. Our cousin was so touched at my sister’s domestic effort once he realized that she never cooked anything for anyone, even her husband. Also, our cousin is a life-long bachelor (save for a short-lived marriage a long time ago) living in a tiny studio with a mini-bar fridge, and therefore unaccustomed to home-cooking. He could not stop complimenting my sister on the eggs.

We forgot to kvetch about the tourists or the merriment that interfered with our hardened and mean personalities. Instead, at this brunch, we just all talked and were glad to be together.

Next year, we may be singing folk songs and a bonus round of kumbaya or maybe my sister will have knitted each of us something in seasonal colors. I think I’ll read up on Ebenezer Scrooge, so I know my part and can be the standard bearer against the march of time and humility. I hope Scrooge doesn’t get nice. I don’t “do” nice.

You see why I am worried.

Don’t Impinge on My Holiday

Posted on December 23, 2009 by 40andover

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.

Blogger’s code of silence

Posted on December 20, 2009 by 40andover

A note to readers:

My sister’s friend, in visiting from a not-to-be-revealed other place, feared speaking to me because I write a blog and she thought that I would reveal too much detail about her life and people would figure out her identity. I told her that I protect my sources and use my powers for good not evil. Her fears were unassuaged and she conversed very little with me although by the end of the evening I was able to discern many, many things about her and her life.

But, true to my word, I can’t tell you. Mystery friend of my sister, I hope you are reading this.

~Blogger

Good ol’ Rudolph

Posted on December 18, 2009 by 40andover

Ok, so I had a revelation at my son’s school’s winter celebration. He was great and all the kids were adorable but that was not eureka moment.

We were given song sheets so that the audience could participate. Printed were the lyrics to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. I am Jewish and native Manhattanite and have never attended a Christmas celebration (even though my Christian friends KNOW I am free that eve and day) so I have never heard the carol up close and personal — only in stores.

To be honest, I never understood the Rudolph song. I couldn’t get why the red nose mattered — that is until I read that Santa asks Rudolph to GUIDE his sleigh. As a New Yorker (with a New York accent) I always thought Santa wanted Rudolph to GUARD his sleigh because how could Santa leave a sleigh with presents unattended, especially in New York?

I told you it was a revelation — a pure Eureka moment.

And what’s the difference between a sleigh and a sled, anyway?

Weave these threads into your reality

Posted on December 17, 2009 by 40andover

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.

Chanukah Party

Posted on December 13, 2009 by 40andover

We had a family Chanukah party at our synagogue this afternoon. The kids had activities; the parents were just hanging out with only coffee and tea as refreshments. Someone suggested that we get a bottle of wine. The rabbi overheard and went into the kitchen and brought out red and white wine and iced vodka. The senior rabbi produced three kinds of single malt scotch. We had only Dixie cups and were crowded around a card table with a paper table cloth with dreidels on it. It was a little like smoking dope in the bathroom while the high school dance is going on downstairs.

Apparently, the wine was for a party later on tonight and the man in charge got into a distemper over our poaching some of the wine, and had a bitchy, chastising tone as he grabbed the wine and said, “I am going to talk to the rabbi about this!” Ok, so the hall monitor is ratting us out to the principal who gave us the wine in the first place. NOW, who was going to be in trouble?? Mister Officious-Avec-Attitude came over and said, “the rabbi will go out and buy more wine so HERE.” Ok, now I was pissed. I say, “the wine is awful anyway, so don’t have anyone buy more of this vinegar.” Ok, we were going to have it out, the lesbian mom and the gay man c-list event coordinator. In the nick of time, the senior rabbi came over wearing a velvet Menorah hat and asked if anyone liked the scotch. That diffused the brewing cat fight. Phew.

Ok, the kids never knew what was happening, except the parents were laughing a whole lot more than any Sukkot and Tu B’Shevat parties at the synagogue.

Taxi cab stories

Posted on December 13, 2009 by 40andover

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.

Imagine Peace

Posted on November 11, 2009 by 40andover

Imagine peace.

That was Yoko Ono’s ad in the journal for last night’s benefit supporting New Yorkers Against Gun Violence (NYAGV).

My mother helped found the organization. I remember vaguely that she would go up to Albany to lobby for tighter gun laws, coordinate the silent marches (the sea of empty shoes for those killed by gun violence) and generally be a nudge for the public welfare. She was unassuming about her efforts for this cause.

I sat at the benefit and I was both stunned and brimming with pride at the flourishing my mother’s “seed” work, about which she was very quiet and very determined. A young woman spoke about her work for the organization, doing outreach to youths at risk. She spoke from the heart. My eyes welled up. I went over to her afterward to tell her how I was so taken with her words and her work. I mentioned that my mother helped found this organization and she looked at my name tag, and then hugged me, saying “I have heard stories about your mother.” Then a board member came over and said, “I knew your mother and we still talk about her and use her catch phrases.”

My mother has been dead for nearly seven years. And she is remembered by both colleagues and people who never actually met her. A life well lived.

My sister is standard bearer for our generation. Her wedding registry was composed of two charities, one of which was NYAGV. When same-sex marriage is legal in NY, I am going to follow my mother’s and sister’s examples and make it part of my registry.

My mother’s legacy is a challenge to me to leave this world a better place than it was when I was born. Not fix everything, just fix or enhance something.

Imagine peace. I hear her saying, “now go and make it happen”. Mom is a tough lady in death as in life. And an inspiration. May she rest in peace. Her memory is always a blessing.

Imagine peace.

The tragedy at Fort Hood

Posted on November 10, 2009 by 40andover

Brave men and women lost their lives at the hands of one of our own.

Yes, Major Nidal Malik Hasan is one of our own.

Just as much as Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber, is one of our own.

We can make all the shallow distinctions but radicalism creeps person by person, as it did with McVeigh and, as we are told, with Hasan. The horror and the responsibility begin and end with the person.

There are always signs in retrospect. And, they allow for a useless free-for-all for Monday quarterbacking pundits.

Yes, let’s look closely at this tragedy and learn its lessons. But, first, let us bury our dead with honor and with thanks of a grateful nation.

Just a few days ago, President Obama stood ramrod straight with a crisp salute as the fallen soldiers were carried off an army transport to be buried by their families.

It is tragic that he must do so again so soon and under these circumstances.

40 — oh wait, yikes!! 50 — andoverblog

Aging and living in urban US

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