Another year, another wish

A friend of mine, an English teacher here in Modi’in, posted a very amusing, and very interesting status update the other day on Facebook. She wrote that she had confused a lot of her students when she told them that she “would see them next year....and that she wasn't coming back until next year”. Neither this friend nor the students at the school where she teaches are religiously observant, and she was amazed at how insignificant the secular, or more accurately Gregorian New Year is in Israeli culture.

This concept fascinates me. While there are the standard New Years parties in some of Israel, it really isn’t such a big deal as it always has been in America.

Interesting side note – in Israel, New Years is called Sylvester – ironically named for an extremely anti-Semitic pope and subsequent saint who lived and reigned in the 4th century CE.

I was never so into New Years, even when I lived in the States. I go to the parties, sometimes, because any excuse for a party was good enough for me. But essentially it didn’t really matter to me so much – other than having to remember what year to write on the dates of checks, papers, etc. Other than that, nothing….

But growing up in America, New Years was a big deal. The sales, the New Years Resolutions, the “year in review”, and so on and so forth.

And even though it never really “grabbed” me so much, I do like the idea of taking stock of the past year while looking ahead to the coming one. Yes, that is a big part of what we do during Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), but living in the “modern” world we do relate to the Gregorian dates, and we do remember things that happened according to the non-Jewish years, so I guess it makes sense to take stock of this kind of year as well.

I started 2010 looking for work – just like I’m ending it. In between I worked for nearly 11 months at a company which had a lot of good things to it and I gained a lot from it, but I wasn’t a bad thing that it came to an end, and as I mentioned in this blog, I have a lot of high hopes for new things to come up very soon.

This year saw my kids grow tremendously – they are at the ages when a year makes a world of difference. Our older daughter, Revital, has been having the best year socially since she started grade school, and we have gotten to see her blossom, and Limor, our 6-year old is developing by leaps and bounds and is every day developing into such a special little girl.

There is a lot that I hope to be able to say by the end of 2011 – I hope that I have a better control over my temper, which sometimes gets the best of me (I’ve been working on that a lot, and plan to continue). I hope to finally get myself both serious and consistent about losing weight.

Obviously, I would love for 2011 to be the year that I can turn my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time endeavor - whether in the professional realm of work, or with the blogging, or whatever. The more I write the more I find that I need to write.

My hope for myself, my family, my friends, and everybody is that 2011 is able to be a year of continued growth, loving, learning, and living life to the fullest. May we all be able to look back on 2010 with warm memories and smiles, and look ahead to the future for even better.

Happy New Year, everybody!

Doors close and doors open

As of a couple of weeks ago, I have been unemployed.

It wasn’t really much of a surprise. For a while I hadn’t really been happy at the job, and I knew that the new manager wasn’t so happy with me either. I had actually been planning to quit within a few days, but essentially they beat me to the punch.

I would have preferred it be on my terms rather than theirs, but that’s probably more an ego thing than anything else.

The big disappointment actually came a few days after I left the job. I had been in negotiations for another job for quite a while - one which I believe was “custom-made” for me, and when I had the third meeting with the CEO (one day before I was let go from my job), he told me that this was moving forward and he really believed that “it was going to happen”. So I was fairly confident that things were on their way to working out.

Until the following week when the HR person called to tell me that the CEO had decided to re-evaluate the position and what exactly he expected from it. This, after several months of meetings, phone calls, and high hopes.

So I’m back on the proverbial market, and the truth is that I am pretty optimistic. There are a few tourism-related positions which I have seen advertised and to whom I have sent my CV. I have also sent my details to a number of positions which I have seen which would (if I’m hired) allow me to turn my newly-found love of writing into a full-time career.

I have also been toying with the idea of going freelance – writing, translating, and the like. I have a few ideas for freelance niches where it seems there is a need, and I believe that I would be able to meet that need pretty well.

I am especially attracted to the flexibility that freelancing would allow me and the time that I would be able to have with the kids.

To that end, I bought a used laptop computer last week (this is the first blog – or anything else for that matter, which I have written using the new/used computer). It’s my first laptop, so I’m still in the “learning what the hell I’m doing” phase with it. It’s not a great computer, but it was very inexpensive (a couple of people who know about these things better than I do agreed that the price was very reasonable), but it should be good enough to get me started. I am hoping that if I can get myself up and running as an independent this will make a big difference.

Of course, any leads from friends will be greatly appreciated, but all in all, while one chapter of my life has come to a close, I have a feeling that a lot of options and a lot of opportunities are right around the proverbial corner. Hope is springing eternal, and I look forward to sharing good news with you all very soon.

The day the train was late

My train was delayed the other day. By a little over an hour.

That's always a pain in the ass, and usually a good excuse for me to get upset at IsraelRail, or anyone else that I can blame for disrupting my day so inconsiderately.

But then they made the announcement explaining the delay and apologizing for it, and I found that I really couldn't stay angry or point a finger of blame anymore.

It turns out that somebody committed suicide at the station in Herzliya, about 4 stations before mine in Tel Aviv, and that was delaying north- and south-bound trains while the authorities were dealing with what needed to be dealt with.

A couple of people who were also waiting were half-joking with each other about how inconsiderate it was (and a couple of others made a comment to that effect on my Facebook page when I posted the status update about what had happened). They asked "why did he have to do it in a way that's such an inconvenience to others" If you want to kill yourself, do it quietly – at home, out of everyone's way…"

I couldn't bring myself to say that – or to even think it. Instead, I tried to understand what would make a person kill themselves in that public a manner.

Now, of course, I'm not a psychologist (and I don't even play one on TV). I took a couple of psych classes a lifetime and a half ago at the University of Maryland, and the most I got out of that was learning all about Classical Conditioning / Pavlov's Dog.

So, although I am far from being an expert on the human mind, like many people, I do make a regular practice at trying to understand people – in my own non-professional, non-expert fashion.

So I couldn't help trying to figure out this suicide at a train station which threw the schedule of hundreds, in not thousands of people out of whack.

I've heard it said (as most likely we all have) that a suicide attempt is a cry for attention and for help. If that's the case, then I would imagine that the person attempting suicide does not to succeed, only to send out the message.

So what does that say about somebody who does do it to succeed? Especially in such a public manner that affects so many others who didn't even know the person?

The only thing that I can think of (and again, I cannot emphasize enough that this these are the thoughts of an un-trained layman – anybody with other insights to the question and ,ore experience than I have are more than welcome to share their thoughts), is that the person is going out with a message to the world.

Rather than the message of the failed attempts of "help me!" this message is more along the lines that "Not only do I have nothing to live for, but in my life I saw myself as a nobody – because I went un-noticed by the world. Maybe I won't be missed after I'm gone, but at least for this one brief hour or two, I will be noticed. I will have an effect on other people's lives".

Not only am I not a trained psychologist with no "real" experience upon which to base this assumption, but I also do not pretend to be a mind reader, and I don't really presume to understand what goes inside somebody else's head. The best I can do is to try to imagine myself in that situation and to guess what would drive me to such an act.

Unfortunately, since the person who did it last week is now dead, there is no way that we can ever truly know what he was thinking, why he chose to end his life or why he chose to do so in the way that he did.

All we can do is to try to be more sensitive to those around us and more aware of their calls for help – whether they call be more obvious or more oblique and implicative.

We can ensure that those in our lives always do mean something to us – always can affect us – hopefully for better rather than worse. In doing so, we can not only help prevent people feeling the need to be noticed at all costs, but we can also make it so that the same people haven't given up on life to begin with, or on their role within that life.

Rather than getting home that day at 2:00 in the afternoon, I got home around 3:15. It really was a pain in the ass, but in the big picture it was nothing compared to a person who felt that his life was so irrelevant, or helpless or anonymous that suicide was his only way out.

I'm happy to give up an hour and a half of my time any day of the week to be reminded how much I love living and that I actually do matter to some people. I wouldn't trade that for anything.

Celebrating the Milestone of Milestones

This week marks a very special anniversary of sorts for me – and it's one that I get to celebrate / commemorate at 3 different times.

It was 9 years ago this week – by the Hebrew calendar it fell on Tuesday, by the Gregorian calendar it will be next Wednesday that I moved into a new reality for life – that of being a father.

Not just a father – but a Daddy, an Abba.

That isn’t to say that it's been all fun and games. There is no shortage of times that she can really drive me crazy, and there's no shortage of times when my parenting "skills" (and occasionally the lack thereof) leave more than a little to be desired. But in the bigger picture, I think there have been far more happy times than sad, loving moments than angry ones, smiles and laughter than tears.

You've seen that t-shirt / bumper sticker / coffee mug, right? The one that says "Any man can be a father, but it takes a special someone to be a Daddy". I never appreciated how true that is until my daughter was born.

Actually – not even then, but rather several months later when she started developing and showing her own personality and I was able to relate to her as a little person rather than a pooping machine.

She was born on Shabbat in the afternoon, the weekly Torah portion read that morning in synagogues around the world was VaYeshev, which was the portion we just read this past Shabbat. It was funny how the Torah reading brought back memories, because it was of memories that weren't there – the day Revital was born I didn't make it to services to hear the Torah.

Sharon had gone into labor on Friday night after Shabbat dinner. I think it started around 10:00 or so, but she didn't wake me up until the pain started getting bad at around midnight. Since we had been very attentive students in our Birthing Class, we knew that it wasn't yet time to go to the hospital – it was time for hot bath, timing the contractions, timing in between the contractions, practicing breathing properly (Sharon, too…) and massaging her lower back ant various times throughout the night.

Somehow in the morning, Sharon had a long enough "quiet" period so I was able to say my Morning Prayer service – obviously not going to the synagogue that morning and finally at 9:30 Shabbat morning, the signs that we learned in our Birthing Class were there and we called an ambulance (we didn't have a car at the time) and we checked in to the hospital at about 10:00.

Then came the waiting.

And then…more waiting.

Then I went down for some lunch in the cafeteria, and hit the hospital synagogue (one of the things I love about living in Israel is that there ARE hospital synagogues) for the afternoon services, then back to Sharon, for some more waiting.

Finally, she was dilated enough, and I won't go into all the gory details, but at 3:20 Shabbat afternoon, I was given my daughter to hold.

All of the stories you hear about the power, the beauty, the magic, the amazing overwhelming emotions of holding your newborn for the first time – for those who have yet to experience it, I can tell you that they're true.

Then they took her away from me.

It is standard procedure here to put all newborns in an incubator for a couple of hours, especially when the birthing is a little out of the ordinary (again – no details, but they performed a vacuum birth) so off she went, leaving me and Sharon alone with a little time to catch our breath.

Now we had time to discuss what we were going to call this little peanut.

We didn't know before the birth whether the baby was a boy or a girl (fortunately as soon as she was born we were able to figure it out pretty quickly), so we had a couple of names at the ready (although Sharon's condition for the names was that she kept the right to change her mind if she didn't feel that the name "fit".

The girl's name we had pre-picked was Revital, which means "saturated with / an abundance of dew", and after looking at her we decided that the name fit – she "looked" like a Revital. But we hadn't even thought about a middle name (very American of us, I know – no matter how long I'm in Israel, there are still some very American things about me).

So now was the time to talk about it. Sharon asked what the Torah portion was that Shabbat, and I had to think about it for a minute since I hadn't been to synagogue.

Then she asked me what happened in it, which was also a challenge to remember. But then I got it – one of the "highlights" of the portion (there really is a lot of meat in this particular one) is the story of Tamar and Yehuda (Judah).

It's too long a story for me to go into here and now, although it's a great story and I encourage you to glance at it yourselves – Genesis Chapter 38. The bottom line is that Tamar is one of my favorite personalities in the entire Torah. In my opinion, she's a woman who sees the clear difference between right and wrong, and will first give others the chance to do what's right with her, but if they don't do it, then she takes the initiative and pushes them into doing the right thing.

The added significance is in her name, which means date palm. The date palm grows in the desert – where there is almost no water, yet it grows very tall, very strong and bears a very sweet fruit.

So too Tamar from this story. She grew up in a place without much "water" which is a common analogy for Torah – meaning that grew up in a place where there was not much righteousness, or fear of God, yet she was strong and upright, like the date palm, and she also bore the sweetest of fruit. According to Jewish tradition the line of the Messiah is descended from the union of Tamar and Judah.

When Sharon and I talked about this, we realized that we had the perfect middle name for our daughter.

There is an idea among some Jews which one of my rabbis once taught me that the naming of a child is the only form of prophecy left in the world.

We name our children either for people whom we want to remember, or with names that have some kind of meaning that speaks to us. When we give these names, we are essentially wishing for our children the traits represented by the meaning of the name or the person whom we wish to remember.

For Revital Tamar, our hope for her is that she should never know lack of water – that is to say always have an "abundance of dew" and that like her biblical namesake, she may grow up upright and strong, with the sense of right vs. wrong and the courage to do what's right – no matter what the risks.

She may have looked like a Conehead for the first few months (courtesy of the vacuum birth), but we wished – that her head is in the right place to see and do what's right – no matter what others say and think.

One last note – regarding both Revital and our younger daughter Limor. They were both Chanukah-season babies. Revital was born 2 days before Chanukah, and Limor 6 days after it. So the holiday that began tonight is the time that both of my girls came into my life. And like the candles of Chanukah, they continue to give our lives a shining light.

The darker a place is, the brighter the light in it are. No matter how dark things sometimes seem around me, these two little lights make everything as bright as a sunny day.

Considering the Source

I would love to be famous someday. It really doesn't matter what I'd be famous for, I would just need to be famous.

Why, you ask, do I want to famous?

It's not to be rich. I don't really need or want the headaches and pressures that go with that (although being out of overdraft occasionally might be nice …)

It's also not to be recognized whenever I walk down the street. Truth be told – I would absolutely hate the lifetime loss of privacy.

No. The reason that I would love to be famous is because being famous somehow magically transforms ordinary schmoes into experts – on everything. If you're famous, your opinion matters. Period.

Need a little proof? Look at Steven Slater. Remember him?

Quick memory refresher:

Steven Slater was the flight attendant on JetBlue that flipped out because a passenger was rude to him and accidentally bopped him on the head with her luggage.

So good old Steve – with his 20 years (!!) of experience as a flight attendant, reacted the way any of us would react. He cursed the woman out over the plane's intercom system, deployed the emergency evacuation slide (extremely dangerous and extremely lucky that there didn't happen to be any ground crew members near the plane at the time), grabbed a few beers (brilliant move – he describes himself as a "recovering alcoholic" – although he also admitted that he had "a sip or two" on the day in question) and made his escape into the sunset.

Slater actually got off much easier than he deserved. For all of his drinking, and endangering of people's lives, the final "price" that he paid was a sweet deal in which he pleaded guilty to second-degree attempted criminal mischief (felony), and fourth-degree attempted criminal mischief (misdemeanor).

For agreeing to plead guilty (which was a no-brainer considering there was no question of his guilt from the beginning), he has to enter a one-year mental health program, including treatment for substance abuse, take certain medications, and pay all of $10,000 in fine to JetBlue for the cost of repairing or replacing the chute.

Not bad, huh? While $10K may seem a bit much steep for a guy who earned less than that last year, on the bright side – Slater recently appeared in an ad for a mobile communication application doing a rap, he was published in the New York Post this week offering (what else?) travel tips for Thanksgiving travelers, and he has signed with a book agency to write a book about his 20 years of experience as a flight attendant.

And I have no doubt this book will sell very well. Not because Steven Slater is a wonderful writer (he may well be, but that's irrelevant). Not even because his vast experience on the job makes him uniquely qualified to share with the general public (in hardback form) the trials and tribulations of such a thankless job.

No – this book will sell, because Steven Slater is famous. No other reason. Never mind that the reason he's famous is that he lost his cool and was an enormous horse's ass. He's famous, so people give a damn what he has to say, and that means that we don't have to lose too much sleep over the $10,000 Steve Slater will have to pay. I'm sure he'll manage just fine.

What I love about this is that it means that to be famous, I don't need any special skills or talents. I don't need to have something special or positive to offer the world which they couldn't find anywhere else. I just have to do something. Anything.

Seriously – how cool would that be? I could become famous for – I dunno – streaking on the field at Half Time of the Super Bowl (don't worry - I'm really not planning on doing it). I would be arrested, and there would articles about me in newspapers around the world, there would talk shows, interviews, possibly even a book deal – and as soon as I have the world giving even a little bit of credence to whatever it is that I have to say, I could talk about politics, or peace in the Middle East, and I can guarantee you, I would be quoted for my views.

"Asher Zeiger believes that President Obama should…." And why would people be interested in my point of view? Because I'm the guy that went streaking across the 50-year line during the halftime show at the Super Bowl!

What more expert qualifications could I possibly need?

This is nothing new – we've seen for years the "authority" which we bestow upon actors, singers, writers, athletes on political questions (and that they all too often bestow upon themselves as well).

Don't get me wrong – I am all for stars putting their celebrity to good use by raising awareness for causes. But that's very different than using the platform awarded them for their artistic success as a soapbox to preach and teach morality and geopolitics to us.

I will admit that I have a personal sensitivity to this issue. Israel and the peace process are always very fertile ground for artists to take their stands, and this year alone, several high profile rock-n-rollers have cancelled scheduled performances in Israel, ostensibly to express their disapproval of our handling of the situation with the Palestinians. As the situation here has been pretty much the same for several years, I have no idea why these artists agreed to visit Israel in the first place, only to cancel as the tour dates grew near. Better to simply not come, don't sell tickets and don't get fans' hopes up. But that's a topic for another (very long) blog.

On November 24, the Jerusalem Post ran a story by the European Jewish Press reporting that "100 famous Norwegians" have called for a complete academic and cultural boycott of Israel.

Let's start by saying that I am assuming these 100 Norwegians are famous in Norway, but not too far beyond their borders.

The group was led by Egil Drillo Olsen, Norway's national football coach. He was quoted as saying the boycott is "in line with what 90% of the world's population believes".

Really, Mr. Olsen? 90%? Is that based on a scientific survey or is it just your expert opinion based on the vast geo-political experience you have gained as a football coach?

Now, if the survey was conducted in Middle Eastern countries with names that do not rhyme with Bisrael, then 90% is probably an accurate representation of the world's views on academic and cultural boycotts of Israel. But the rest of world? I'm a little dubious of your statistics.

Of course, the real irony is that in Israel (as in most of the world), the majority of academic and cultural figures lean politically a bit left-of-center. So boycotts like this are primarily targeting the figures who agree with the political stance (although not with the methods), so a boycott of this nature is, if anything, counterproductive.

But that doesn't matter. Why? Because in Norway, Egil Drillo Olsen is famous, so it really matters what he says about issues which are completely unrelated to his area of expertise (namely: football/soccer).

Because with fame comes a tacit understanding from the general public that you know what you're talking about (Kanye West notwithstanding).

I've never been a musical fan of Ozzy Osbourne – not when he was the frontman for Black Sabbath, and not as a solo artist. I was also never interested in his reality show either.

Nevertheless, I absolutely loved that he performed in Israel a couple of months ago. Granted – he's not the only one who has amidst all of the boycotts. Paul McCartney was recently here, as was Joe Cocker, Jethro Tull, and others. But what I loved about Ozzy is that he specifically said that he refuses to talk politics because he's a singer – and therefore doesn't know anything about politics. He also had some very choice (adult-content) words for those people who throw art and music into the political arena.

What a concept – a singer, who says that he's a singer, and therefore not in a place to preach about things that he may not understand so well. A singer who uses his stage and microphone for – hold on to your seats here - singing. Who ever heard of such a thing?

For my part, I would love to get people to understand that being famous does not automatically mean that a person has anything interesting or worthwhile to say. And if they actually do – it's not necessarily connected to their fame.

How's this for a mind-boggling conundrum? It seems that I need to become famous so that people will listen to me say that they shouldn't automatically give credence to the opinions of famous people.

I'm not sure how I'll do it, but just in case, you should think about skipping the Half Time show at this year's Super Bowl…

Blowing the whistle in Rock and Roll

Anybody who knows me even a little bit knows that I am a huge fan of Blues and Classic Rock.

And if you've visited my home – or spent more than – oh I dunno, say 10 minutes talking to me in real life (as opposed to all conversations being relegated to internet chat/IM) then you know that I have a pretty respectable music collection at home (and on my iPod) – close to 1800 albums between discs and (showing my age here) cassettes.

And if you've ever discussed music with me a little more in depth then you know that that of all the music I have, I listen to and I love, if I was forced to pick a single absolute favorite artist, it would probably be The Who.

So, this morning, the music that I chose to accompany me and put me in a good mood during my train ride to work was Another Scoop, an absolutely wonderful solo album by Pete Townshend, the very highly regarded guitarist and song writer for The Who.

This is one of 4 albums that Pete has which were compilations of his own private demo recordings throughout the years in his private studio – and his musical genius really shines through (at least to my mind).

One of my favorite songs on this album is Football Fugue, and a couple of things really stand out about it.

First of all – the music alone really grabs me. Hard to explain, but I just love the tune.

Even better than the tune, is the lyrics. Most classic rock aficionados acknowledge Pete Townshend as one of the premier lyricists of the generation (talkin' about his (My) Generation).

But beyond his normally insightful, poetic, beautiful song writing magic, this song is also hysterically funny.

He's drawing a comparison to watching an orchestra perform and watching a football game (he's British, so for the Yanks here read: soccer). It is extremely clever and a lot of fun.

With this song on my brain (and subsequently over and over again on my iPod) for so much of the day, I decided this evening to look up the lyrics online because there are some that I'm sure I'm not quite getting.

Here are the lyrics as I found them online. Read along as you listen to the song, then tell me if I'm going crazy or did every single website that I found with the lyrics have absolutely no idea what this song is about? I've numbered the lines to make the discussion a little bit easier.

Listen here…


Football Fugue
(Pete Townshend and Ted Astley, Tower Tunes, BMI)

1. I was listen to a guitar, bass drum thing
2. Started hearing chest screech, thought I had a gut strength
3. Then I saw a big band, right on the pavement
4. Violins and heavy boots, wondering where the wave went

5. You! What? I'm talking to you, Your wearing the wrong colored scarf
6. So what? Well you're playing your tune, to the Tarrence enemy Hauf
7. Hey you! What? I'm talking to you, Concentrate on the game
8. What for? Well the whistle just blew, the conductors going to complain
9. Play the song, on the wall, come on pass me the ball

10. Don't let the violinist trouble your playing
11. Fierce looking people, but their managers gay
12. Syncopation to the sound of the ball
13. Trouble with the ref on in the concert hall

14. Hey you! What? That cellist was found, that conductor must be blind
15. It's a girl! Whew! Oh look at the crowd, This session's run to extra time
16. Sit back, face off the senior, doesn't walk alone

17. Music has arrived at the football stadium
18. A logical step would be spears at the Palladium
19. Fifty thousand watts screaming out for a goal
20. Why don't they blow a whistle in rock and roll

21. Hey you! What? Get back to your seat. The song has only just begun
22. So what? We need two encores to beat, and the band is faced to run
23. Hey you! What? Get down off of the wire, the spirit of the game's still strong
24. Say's who? Well I'll never talk, kicking my piano along
25. All you fans of the score, if you give a show of support, will….win

First of all, even with the lyrics in front of me there are a couple of lines that I'm still not sure of (specifically Lines #2 and .#6 – if anyone can decipher those for me I would be grateful).

Now, I understand, accept and respect that very often, lyrics found online are not the "official" lyrics released by the songwriter or the record company, but rather transcribed by a fan/listener, and prone to the occasional human error. That's fine with me. I know that I also often mis-hear and mis-represent song lyrics.

But what made this something that I felt the need to Ramble about was really two things here.

The first is the sheer quantity of lyrics that seem to be wrong – sometimes grotesquely so. We're not talking about one or two mistakes here – we're talking almost every other line! And some of these mistakes are more blatant than the foul on the football field!

The second thing that I just don't get is why these same poorly transcribed lyrics are on every single lyrics site that I saw!

In all fairness there may well be several sites with better versions of the lyrics – but I stopped looking after the first 9 or 10 that I checked all had pretty much the same.

Does nobody care about quality control in rock and roll anymore????

As I already said – I have no idea what Line #2 says but I'm pretty sure that it's not what's written above. Same goes for Line #6.

Line #10 is a pretty simple mis-hearing. It should be "Don't let the violinists trouble your play". Not one of the big deals, but still, let's get things right.

Lines #14 and #15 are two of the primary lines that make me wonder if the person (or people) transcribing this had any clue what the song was about.

I mean come on!!! The cellist was found??? FOUND??? If it's a football game, and the very next thing he says is "the conductor must be blind" Isn't it pretty obvious that the line should read "That cellist was fouled?

The next line – It's a girl??? What happened – the guy went to a football game / concert and a birth broke out??? IT'S A GOAL! (Hullo McFly!!) This also explains the next line "this session's run to extra time".

Line #16 is another one that I can't decipher, but I'm pretty sure it starts "Sit back or piss off" and says absolutely nothing about seniors walking alone.

I have a feeling that "spears" in Line # 18 is supposed to be Spurs (the name of a British football team), but I could be wrong about that one.

Line # 22 also made me laugh out loud here – "We need two encores to beat (IMHO that line is Townshend at his brilliant best!), and the band is faced to run? Do any of you have a clue what that means??

Me neither, but I bet if you read the line the way it sounded to me – "We need two encores to beat, and the band needs space to run" then it would make a lot more sense, no...?

Line #24 – I'd be pretty willing to bet that he says "I'll never tire of kicking my piano along" which is more in line with the whole football analogy and sounds much better (and smarter) than "I'll never talk, kicking my piano around".

And of course, if the person/people responsible for the transcribing here already had so many wonderfully entertaining errors, it would be a shame to not finish out the song with a bang – so they have two mistakes in the song's final line! I've never heard of "fans of the score", but it just might be that Pete was singing "fans of the sport".

And finally – fans of the sport (or score) if you show the support, then you will win? I don't think so...

The line should read " if you give a show of support we'll win" – as in, fans in most sports tend to use the first person plural when describing their teams' success – as though they get part of the credit. And this line in the song is meant to be a jab at the idea that fans showing enough support for their team can affect the outcome of the game.

I honestly don't get how it is that I can hear and understand so many lines in the song one way, and a dozen websites all see those same lyrics differently. And nobody who has used these sites has noticed that there is something (actually several somethings) that makes no sense.

As ridiculous as it is, it still doesn't take away from the beauty of the song and the brilliance of the writing. But I'd still love your help in figuring out the lines that I don't get.

Anyone, anyone.....?

Birth announcement

A baby was born today. Not a baby that cries, sleeps, poops and entices otherwise mature intelligent adults to deteriorate into babbling idiots.

This was my own baby.

My second one, actually.

There is a story behind it (isn't there always…?)

Since I started blogging in earnest a couple of months ago, two things have happened.

First is that I have received an incredible amount of very positive feedback regarding the blog itself and my writing. This has been a wonderful source of encouragement and I am eternally grateful to all of you for providing me with that extra push.

The second thing that has happened is that I have discovered exactly how much I really love the writing. It seems the more I write, the more I find that I truly need to write. And then write some more. The inner fulfillment that I have found through this venue of expression is unlike anything I have ever experienced.

As a result, I've made no secret about the fact that I would love to find some way to take this writing to the next step. Besides the blogging for my friends in which I am able to share some of my day-to-day life and the occasional "deeper" thoughts, I want to move into the realm of writing full-time – even making a living from it.

I have no illusions about how easy this will be (i.e. not at all), nor do I have any plans to quit my day job (not yet, anyway). But the search is on to allow this to launch a new career for me which I think I would really enjoy.

Last night I met a friend for coffee. Besides the fact that I always enjoy time spent with this particular friend, last night we had a specific purpose in mind. This friend has done a good deal of research of the whole world of blogging and of making a living through creative new websites, etc. and he suggested that we meet to discuss possible directions that I can take this, if I'm truly serious about writing full-time and professionally.

One of the most important things that he told me (as have several other friends) is that if I want to try to break through using the venue of a blog, that the successful bloggers are the ones with an identity which defines their blog. Their blogs are centered on a particular theme, and while they may occasionally stray ever-so-slightly, the successful blogs are the ones that focus on that theme.

Obviously the catch to this being able to offer an "identity" and a theme which isn't already being done by everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. The goal is to find a niche in which I can offer what isn't already being offered by multitudes of folks, most of whom are more knowledgeable than I am and better qualified to be the "voice" of whatever it is that they are proclaiming to be voice.

To add to the difficulty is actually something that I wrote in the introductory blog of Ramblings (read it here) is that (and I quote myself) "I am not and make no claims to be an "expert" on anything. My views on politics, social issues, child-rearing, history, and whatever else - are simply that - MY views. I haven't studied these things in the university, or written major research papers on them, or conducted in-depth surveys gathering comprehensive information. I am an every day John Q. Public, who keeps up with the news on a fairly regular basis, who reads some opinion pieces to get varying perspectives, and whose ideas have been shaped by his own experiences. No more and no less".

I still hold by that. I know my limitations – I am a reasonably intelligent person with a reasonable grasp of what's going on around me, but that certainly doesn't qualify me to be the "voice" of anything or anyone other than myself.

After spending a little more than an hour with this friend last night, and bouncing some ideas back and forth with him, I came home and thought a lot about what we discussed.

Besides quickly seeing the obvious point that his advice and thoughts were right on the money, I also thought about a bit of what we discussed in terms of what I would have to offer that's a little bit different – a bit off the proverbial beaten path.

One of my (very few) traits which I am proud is that I don't really fit into one of those nice, neat little labeled boxes. People will often try to pin me down and to define me – mostly religiously and politically, but in other areas as well.

And they usually can't do it.

I socialize in various circles – some of which are worlds apart from others, and while I'm usually able to fit in some form or fashion to each crowd which I hang, I also don't really fit any of the stereotypes of any of these circles – and thus, anyone thinking that they can finally "label" me finds that they're back at Square One.

I like that. And that is where I think I differ a little bit from everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. That's where perhaps – hopefully – I can offer something a little bit different.

That being said, it is with the pride of a new father that I announce today's birth of the younger sibling to Ramblings. Please feel free to come and meet Musings of a Monotype. Don't know what a "Monotype" is? Good – you shouldn't. Read the first entry of the new blog and you'll see – if not what a Monotype is, at least how I use the term.

This blog will be a more focused themed blog, and personally I am simultaneously excited, curious, and a bit nervous to see where it goes.

Of course, it is not at all my intention for this new blog to replace Ramblings. I have no doubt that as often as not I will still feel the need to ramble on about whatever is occupying my brain, and not with topics that are more fitting for the Monotype blog.

One thing about the Monotype blog that will be exactly what Ramblings attempts to be – all comments and thoughts are very welcome. If you agree with something I've written and you would like to tell me – that's wonderful. If you disagree with something I've and you want to share tell me that – that's great too.

I will never denigrate anybody's thoughts, ideas or opinions. I may disagree with you, in which case I'll tell you, while at the same time, recognizing the validity of your view, as well as the possibility that you may be right (and I may be crazy).

And I may be convinced by whatever you have to say.

My rule of thumb was also something that I wrote in the introductory Ramblings blog - I have no intention or interest in "converting" anybody to my way of thinking. I just want to express what I feel the need to express.

With that in mind – come on over to Musings of a Monotype and let's get ready to rock and roll….

High school lessons lost in life

This feels almost like a "confession of a baseball fan" of sorts, but I have to admit that I am, and always have been a Yankees fan. However – in my own defense, unlike most non-New Yorkers that follow the Bronx Bombers (that I know, at least), my love of them has nothing to do with how many times they have won the World Series, or how dominant they have been (on and off) for the last 30 years.

The year was 1972. It was one year before the George Steinbrenner era began, 10 years since the Yankees had last won a World Series (which was 2 years before I was born) and 5 years before they were to win their next one. So considering how mediocre they were when I started following them, it cannot be thought that I was jumping on the winner's bandwagon.

What actually made me a Yankees fan was my baseball card collection. One of the cards that I had was for the Yankees left fielder at the time, Bobby Murcer. I was 7 years old, and without knowing anything (yet) about this player, I thought he had a really cool sounding name, and in his baseball card picture he looked like a really nice guy. So, because of Bobby Murcer I became a Yankees fan.

I have stayed a Yankees fan because once I decide I love a team, it's for life – taking the good with the bad, and all that stuff.

However, I don't like the policy (started by George Steinbrenner when he became the Yankees owner, and continued to this day by the Yankees and many other teams) of pouring gazillions of dollars every year into buying the biggest names on the market, paying the highest total team salary in order to have the best team.

For one thing, it makes the sport much less interesting if one team is the equivalent of the All-Star team and by comparison every opponent is a high school intra-mural squad.

For another thing, the Yankees themselves have proven beyond any doubt over the last 10 years that buying the best players isn't what makes the team the best team. If it did they would have won a lot more World Series in the last 10 years than only in 2000 and 2009.

If you want additional proof - this year the World Series was won by the San Francisco Giants - with a payroll that ranked only 10th in Major League baseball (less than half of the Yankee's payroll) and virtually no "huge" stars (pitching ace Tim Lincecum notwithstanding). To woin the World Series, they beat the Rangers, who ranked 27th in the Majors for payroll, barely over a quarter of what the Yankees shelled out in salaries this year (and the Rangers beat the Yankees in the playoffs 4 games to 2 - so much for the biggest salaries of the biggest names making you the best team...)

Give me a team with "home grown" talent that has been with the organization since minor leagues, or at least early in the professional career, and I'm happy to see that team prove that as a team, they are the best in the league.

But back to my beloved, albeit troubled Yankees. Not to anyone's surprise, the Yanks have opened their off-season by making moves to acquire pitcher Cliff Lee.

For those of you visiting from Saturn, or who otherwise don't follow baseball, Cliff Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball over the past several years, and he seems to be still at the peak of his career – he hasn't showed any signs of slowing down yet.

So all of the teams want him, and the Yankees are known for being willing to pay out top dollar and out-bid other teams in bringing the best players to Yankee Stadium.

And as much as I love my Yanks and want to see them win, I'm tired of how their budgetary lack of constraints really take away form the beauty of the sport. Professional sports have all become big business, and it is absolutely beyond me – even from the perspective of the players how it has sunk to the level which it is.

I mean – seriously! Take the case of Cliff Lee. He earned $9 million this year.

To play a game.

For 6 months of the year.

Now – let's say the Yankees decide to give Cliff Lee the same incentive as their other 2 biggest name aces right now – CC Sabathia, who earned over $24 million this year (and granted, had a pretty good year) and AJ Burnette, who earned $16.5 million this year (and basically sucked).

If the Yankees decide to go that route and offer Cliff Lee, say $15 million this year, and the Rangers will "only" go as high as 10. It's a reasonable assumption that he would leave Texas (where he has said that he is very happy pitching) to go to New York and make that much more money.
But tell me something - Is there really so much that anybody can or would want to do with $15 million (per year!) that they can't do with $10 million?

I seriously don't think so.

But that's become the nature of the proverbial beast, not only in professional baseball, but in basketball and football as well.

The depth to which the whole thing has sunk was really driven home for me this evening with an article I saw online about a high school football game.

The football team of Bald Knob, Arkansas (and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to know that there is a place with a name like this. I mean it!) was racking up a huge win – apparently a regular occurrence for this particular team.

By mid-way into the 3rd quarter, the score was 70-34 and the sophomore quarterback had thrown for 534 yards and 8 touchdowns. Had he stayed in the game, it is good bet that he would have tied or broken the Arkansas state single-game record of 10 touchdowns.

He was taken out though. Apparently the state of Arkansas has a "Mercy Rule", common in many states up through the high school level of play, which prevents teams already winning by a huge margin from piling on the points and humiliating the other team.

So, the Bald Knob (hee hee hee) coach pulled the quarterback and the rest of the starters from the game for the remainder of the third quarter and the entire fourth quarter. Afterwards the coach said that while he thought about the record, he wouldn't do that to another team just to get a record.

Unfortunately, this Mercy Rule isn't found on either the college or professional level, which makes me very sad.

There is a lesson that players can learn from rules like this one – that it is a game that they are playing, and yes, the point is win, but there is no honor in humiliating an opponent. You can play, play your best, be the better team – even by far, while still keeping sight of what the game really is all about.

If athletes are taught from a young age that whatever game they compete is a part of life, but not life's be-all and end-all definition of self, and if that lesson is continued into young adulthood, and then not-so-young adulthood, then perhaps when they reach the professional level, they'll remember that they can enjoy the sport, keep that parity between teams and not need an additional $10 million about the $10 million that they already get to play a game.

Then the game can return to being just that – a game.

Drawing the lines

What do you do when you find that your most dearly held principles in conflict with one another? This seems to be happening to me a lot recently, in particular regarding free speech.

For example – where do you draw the line between free speech and incitement? Sometimes, it’s very obvious, other times, I’m not so sure.

Right after Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin was assassinated (15 years ago this month) I remember here in Israel “incitement” was almost on par with what “communist sympathizer” was in America during the McCarthy era in the 1950’s. Anybody who dared utter a negative word about the recently-martyred leader, or his heir-apparent Shimon Peres, was seen as being on the same level as Yigal Amir, the murderer that pulled the trigger.

Side note for true story: at a bank in Jerusalem a couple of weeks after the assassination, a teller who had just finished with one customer called out “Who’s next” (very common in banks, post offices, etc. before everyone had a “Pick-a-number”). One guy yelled out “Shimon Peres” – and he was arrested.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I think that this guy’s joke was in extremely poor taste, and wasn’t in the least bit funny. But last I checked, there’s nothing illegal about that. People like that can and should be ostracized for thinking that political assassination is acceptable, or even in some way funny – but that doesn’t diminish their right to their views – no matter how disgusting those views may be.

At the time that Rabin was murdered, his popularity was extremely low, and the majority of Israelis (including many from his own Labor party) disapproved of how he was handling the peace process and the direction that the country seemed to be going. But for several months after the assassination, nobody would even dream of saying anything bad about Rabin. Most of the Israeli right-wing, and in particular the Settlers (those who live in what we call disputed areas) were terrified to express what they felt politically. They were all under society’s microscope and being told that they needed to a serious soul-searching because of what “one of theirs” did.

This lack of freedom of speech and expression at the time, created an atmosphere and mood in the country that was even darker than the assassination itself created. It was terrible.

But there is such a thing as incitement that does go beyond the realm of “Free Speech”. When people are encouraging, and even assisting others to violate the rights of others, to break laws, to undermine societal norms, then the line is a grey one, but there are times when hiding behind the skirt of Free Speech, just doesn’t cut it.

For example, one of the theories surrounding the Rabin assassination was that certain rabbis and other spiritual leaders whom Yigal Amir greatly respected, had told him that it was right to kill the Prime Minister, and that by doing so he would be performing a mitzvah (good deed/positive commandment). This does not take away in the least Amir’s responsibility for being the one to pull the trigger, and it should not lessen his sentence and punishment at all. BUT – if a rabbi, teacher, or whatever was inciting him to do what he did, then that’s not “free speech” and that person also bears a certain amount of responsibility.

Again – where do you draw the line?

This morning, I saw an article online about a book which had been for sale on Amazon.com which has since been removed after a couple of thousand people complained and threatened to boycott Amazon if the e-book wasn’t pulled.

Considering that book in question is called "The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure: A Child-Lover's Code of Conduct", my support of getting the book off of the shelves – virtual and real-life – pretty much goes without saying, as does my willingness to boycott anyone who would market such a book.

But you know what? Yes, I agree with Amazon’s decision to pull it, and yes, I support turning anyone who sells this into a pariah, it’s really not so clear cut. It’s a much a greyer area than at first I would have believed.

I am a huge believer in free speech and freedom to publish, as well as the freedom to disagree with anything that is said or written and the freedom to not buy a book that you find offensive or disagreeable.

So, if somebody wants to write a book about why they love doing that which is morally repugnant to what I hope would be all right-minded decent people, why should it bother me? I’m free to not buy his garbage and I’m equally free to talk, write and in any other way share with anyone that will listen why I think that he’s a sick monster.

But with this one, I can’t do that.

This one crosses certain lines that should never ever be crossed.

The issue isn’t simply that the book is promoting something that’s illegal. That in and of itself doesn’t really bother most people. Right? I mean, seriously – how much would anybody give a damn or threaten boycott if the book was about how to grow marijuana without getting caught, or use certain drugs without abusing them and endangering yourself and others?

But not with pedophilia.

The author, Phillip R. Greaves II, even tries to explain himself. He said in a phone interview with CNN that his book presents the proverbial do’s and don’ts of pedophilia. He provides what he sees as acceptable boundaries, and which lines one should never cross (for example, he says "Penetration is out. You can't do that with a child, but kissing and fondling I don't think is that big of a problem.")

In the Amazon.com product description, he explained that by appealing to pedosexuals’ better nature (no shit! He seriously wrote this!!), that if they follow his guidelines then there will be less public hatred of what they do and less harsh prison sentences.

Back to the whole free-speech thing – I will say that I completely support his right to truly believe this, and to say so. No question about it.

But to try to make acceptable and to encourage through publication of a book, perpetrating an act against victims that are helpless – No way. Forget it. That’s not freedom of speech.

If the book were about how to talk women (legal adults) into bed, I would still say that he’s a sick whackjob, but that would be less disgusting. The underlying assumption and understanding of why pedophilia is so completely unacceptable on every level is that even if children “agree” to such contact, it is not reasonable to assume that a child under a certain age or level of intellectual and personal development really understands what it is that he or she is “agreeing” to do (or to have done to them), or what the ramifications of it are.

Never mind the fact that in the heat and excitement of the moment, even a person trying to follow the so-called “guidelines” of kissing and fondling will almost never be able to put on the brakes and avoid crossing the line. Even when sexual activity with a child is theoretically “consensual” it is clearly taking advantage of a young person who really doesn’t know what the hell they are getting themselves into.

I’m no lawyer, so I have no idea if this would actually apply, but it seems to my layman’s mind that a book like this is actually guilty of conspiracy to committing a crime. Or aiding and abetting. I don’t know.

I do know that it is not practicing “free speech”. Period.

Practice free speech, and I promise to support your God-given right to be as wrong, as crazy and as down-right stupid as you want to be. But this isn’t it. Not by a long-shot.

We've got spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam and spam

I am SO excited right now! I just received an email in which the Subject line informed me that $1.5 MILLION are waiting for me and all I have to ----

Oops. Never mind. Turns out that’s a spam.

Oooh wait! Listen to this! It seems that this poor woman, the daughter of a former government high-up muckety-muck in Nigeria needs my confidential assistance in holding some of her late father’s $14.7645 Billion in savings, and if I send her my bank information for her to make the deposit, she will gladly pay me for my troub ----

Damn. Another spam. I really had hopes for that one. I mean, she even blessed me in the name of the Lord (Halleluyah!). How can you doubt the integrity of woman like that?? Oh well.

Ahhh – here we go. I can increase the size of my ….

Oy!!!! We’re definitely not going there! I wouldn’t touch that one with a 10-inch pole…

As gullible as I may be with some of these, at least I’m smart enough to know that the offers to increase my breast size aren’t real, and I definitely don’t believe that some 20 year-old sexpot happened to look at my profile somewhere and thought that I was fascinating and sexy and can we get together soon.

Even I won’t fall for that one.

But I can’t help wondering about this abundance of scams which I am constantly receiving. Obviously the fact that there are so many of them, being sent, some more clever and creative than others, others more transparent, tells me that there must be people – a LOT of people – who fall for them.

I’m sorry, but I just don’t get that! Who the hell will receive an email from Sister Marjorie Kenyatta asking for bank account details, and truly believe that by giving those details, the random person with a sob story will deposit $15 quazillion into their account for a couple of months and pay them $2 million for their assistance?

I guess there are those that do believe it – or we wouldn’t still be getting those same damn emails (albeit under different, equally exotic names) week after week, year after year. Over the past 6 years I could have become a billionaire several times over by now, if I had only allowed the love in my heart to help out my fellow man in dire straits Nairobi-style…

While some of these scams are so pathetically simplistic that we can’t help but to laugh at them, what I find scary is that many others are becoming more and more sophisticated and clever.

For example – lately I have seen a few times where a friend’s email account was hacked, and an email was sent to everybody in the person’s address book – ostensibly from the person, saying “I’m in _____ (fill in the blank – most often I’ve seen London) and I was mugged – now I have no money to get home and I’m scheduled to fly out tonight! If any of you can you please send me _______ (fill in the blank – usually not too ridiculous an amount) to help me get home, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can get to my bank.”

This is a pretty intelligent one – until you’ve seen the same damn thing 2 or 3 or 17 times. But the first time? I can imagine even an intelligent person falling for this one.

What blew it for me was the first time I saw it, the hacker had sent it – not only to all of the hackee’s friends, but a city-wide mailing list as well.

Maybe it’s my own naiveté, but I can’t help thinking that if these hackers and spammers and scammers would take all of the energy and creativity and whatever else they have that they put into these attempts at taking what little money I have, and put even some of that energy and creativity into actually working – they probably wouldn’t need the scams to live a very comfortable life.

Then again, who knows?

All I know is that here I am stuck in the Nigerian Airport being mugged at gunpoint by the daughters of 348 deceased bankers, diplomats and honourable politicians all trying to put money into my bank account, and I just want to get home. So if any of you can send me some money to get out of here, I promise to either pay you back tomorrow or to give you the secret to increase your bust size.

And may the Lord bless you forever and ever. Amen!

At 13, I was a man. Today I just am.

Next week is the anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah. It will be (oh dear God!) 33 years since I went up on the pulpit wearing my brand new 3-piece suit and in my squeaky "trying-to-evolve" voice declared to all of the family members, friends, and pretty good number of strangers that from that day forward I was a man.

Little did I know…

On the Shabbat of my Bar Mitzvah, I led the Friday night service, read the entire weekly Torah portion as well as the Haftarah (reading from one of the books of Prophets) and led the final service on Saturday morning in the synagogue.

More importantly, I was the excuse for a big Kiddush after the Saturday morning services (various food, drinks, and other refreshments). Then on Saturday night I had a kick-ass party for my friends at my house with lots of the greatest hits of 1977 playing on the record player.

OK – let's be honest – in my mind at the time, it was a "kick-ass" party, but in reality the best that can probably be said for it was that of all the Bar Mitzvah parties held that year, mine was definitely one of them.

But it was my "rite of passage" – what every Jewish kid goes through at that age.

Unlike what is statistically the majority of kids though, I actually stayed involved on some level, although for very many years I worked very hard at giving the impression of being much more knowledgeable and observant than I really was. I continued going to weekly services with my folks, occasionally read the Torah portion, or the Haftarah, or led one of the Sabbath services.

We kept kosher in the home, and while out of the house we were not – according to Jewish law, being kosher, I never ate meat in restaurants and never ever had anything blatantly not-kosher (i.e. pork products).

When I went off to college, I decided to start showing even more what a "holy man in training" I was, and I began to wear my kippa (skullcap / yarmulke) full-time. Of course, when I say "full-time" I mean except for when I went into McDonalds (to get fish sandwich – never meat), or any other restaurant, since they weren't kosher. I also took off the kippa when I was out and about on Saturdays – I wouldn't want people to think that I was a hypocrite – advertising myself as "religious" by wearing my kippa yet going into non-kosher restaurants and violating the Sabbath (never mind that in doing so I really WAS being a hypocrite – but I didn't want anybody (besides me) to think or know that).

3 years later, when I moved to Atlanta, I kept up this personal "tradition" – wearing the kippa in public, but covering it when I went out on Shabbat or into the various restaurants (never ordering meat, of course – that wouldn't have been kosher). There were many Friday evenings when I drove to the local Orthodox synagogue, and I was very careful about parking a couple of blocks away and hiding the key so that I could walk to the synagogue (religiously observant Jews don't drive on the Sabbath) and go in as a nice young religious single. The beauty of that particular synagogue was that I never went into services without receiving at least 2 or invitations to Shabbat dinner.

After dinner, I would very "religiously" walk back to my car (confident that nobody from the synagogue was there to see me), take my key from its hiding spot and drive home to watch TV.

All in all, I thought I had a pretty good life at the time. People who knew me thought that I was a nice religious boy, but I wasn't weighed down by too many of the obligations and restrictions that went along with that label.

Then it came time to move to Israel. I had decided that my first stop in the Holy Land should be a kibbutz (a communal living settlement) which offered an ulpan (intensive Hebrew learning program). Every immigrant is entitled to receive a 5-month ulpan, fully subsidized to help ease into Israeli society. I had been all set to go to a kibbutz which was not a religious kibbutz, but when I discovered that this also meant that they were not kosher, I decided to switch to a religious kibbutz.

My life on this kibbutz opened my eyes to what I had been doing for past several years, but not really in a good way.

I went to services at the kibbutz synagogue – not so much by choice, but because that's what we had to do (When in a "religious" community, do as the Romans do, and all that....).

2 things really struck me there – one was how unspiritual it seemed. People were talking non-stop through the services, praying at a pace faster than the speed of light, and basically just going through the motions of being a religious community without having any of the real "oomph" to what they doing. In all fairness, this was not everybody there, and probably not even the majority of people, but it was a high enough percentage that it really stood out for me and struck me as a bit phony as best and hypocritical at worst. It made me thing that if this was where "religiously observant" Judaism was and was heading, that there really wasn't much future for it.

The second thing that struck me from this whole thing was that what I had been doing for the several years leading up to this time was not really any different that what I was seeing on the kibbutz that really bothered me. I was putting one show on for the outside world to see and to define me – a definition that I wanted to wear with pride, but privately there was none of the reality backing it all up.

I realized that it was time to make some decisions. I couldn't go on mirroring what upset me with so many of the kibbutz members. The time had come to "shit or get off the pot" – either to truly follow a religious lifestyle or to stop letting people think that I was. Either way, I had to be much more consistent with what I projected outwards and what I was truly believing and following for myself.

For whatever reason inside of me, there was obviously something about the traditional side of Judaism that I had never been able or willing to let go. I would eat in non-kosher restaurants, but not the meat – that seemed to taking it "too far" for me. I would drive to the Orthodox synagogue in Atlanta, but I was going to services, and something inside of me really wanted to be invited to a family's home for the traditional Shabbat dinner. I wore my kippa - even though I projecting, or advertising something that I really wasn't, it was something with which I felt the need to be associated. Something about this whole "Judaism" thing was keeping me holding on, even if I didn't know what it was.

Understanding that reality, albeit without understanding the reasons helped push my decision. If I wanted to be associated with observant Judaism, then I should at least learn what it was all about. So I spent the next 2 years at a yeshiva (learning center of Jewish texts, thought and tradition) learning. This particular yeshiva is a very special place – aimed primarily for people searching for "answers" but refusing to give them the answers. Rather, all of the rabbis and teachers there help us develop the tools for finding the answers within ourselves.

This set me on a path, which today I find very ironic.

I have reached the point in my religious development and my observance level that not only do I refuse to label myself in any way, but I don't think that I really fit into any of the labels.

I am what I am (and that's not Popeye the Sailor Man). I consider myself religiously observant – which is not so much a "label" as it is a description (and yes, there is a huge difference between the two), but that doesn't necessarily mean that I fit into any of the categories of "types" of Jews. I have my spectrum of beliefs, some of which would fall into the "Orthodox" camp, others into the "Conservative" one and others yet into ""Reform". I'm not comfortable praying in a Conservative or Reform synagogue, but I don't rule out the possibility that they might be "right" and I'm wrong.

On the other hand, maybe there is no "right" and "wrong" in this – everybody has to find what works for them in their relationship with God (for those that feel that have/want/need a relationship with God – not everybody does, and it is definitely not a pre-requisite for leading a good, moral and fulfilling life).

In my religious practice, I lean much more towards the traditional, but in philosophy and theology, I fall all across the spectrum. That being said, I believe that my practice and beliefs are actually consistent with one another. I don't assume to have the ultimate "right" answers, nor do I presume to have a monopoly on any ultimate "truths". There is too much up in the air, too much unknown.

Which brings me back to where I started this blog. The anniversary of my Bar Mitzvah is next weekend, and as I did oh-so-long-ago, I will be reading the Torah portion in my synagogue next Shabbat. At the time, it was important for me to define myself as a "man" – although I don't know many 13 year-old boys that really understand what that means.

And at the time, my real biggest concern wasn't what it meant to be a man, it was how much would my party that night really kick some serious tush?

What I have since learned is that the passage from childhood into adulthood is the constant struggle to figure out who I really am, as opposed to "what" I think I want to be. I spent so many years trying to define myself, trying to find the label that best suited me, and trying to see that others would give me that label – as if somehow magically being labeled by others would help determine how I could see myself.

The irony is that today I'm happier than ever being un-labelable (yes, I know that's not a real word. Deal with it!). Labels don't work. Definitions don't work. Even descriptions aren't so clear cut as I once thought they were.

It's kind of funny, but after spending so many years trying to push others to define as something that I really wasn't, today I can't even define myself for what I am.

And somehow that seems to fit me pretty well.

The day after the storm - sunny with dissipating clouds...

You know the proverbial “calm after the storm”? That was today.

I wrote a few days ago about my friend RivkA, who succumbed to cancer last week. A big part of RivkA’s legacy is her constant optimism, and the fact that she never ever allowed herself to dwell on what she was going through. She would never feel sorry for herself and her constant upbeat attitude and personality was an inspiration to all who knew her.

One of the comments I saw on a site dedicated to her memory was by a woman who had paid a comfort call to the family, and she said that the family had comforted her more than she did them. Considering RivkA's strength and charater, hearing this about her husband and her 3 teenage children really didn’t surprise me in the least, but it did make me smile for the life-affirming element that it really shows.

Her legacy has also touched another very close friend of mine is who has spent the last 3 years + going through various surgeries, recovery times, further surgeries, relapses, etc. After RivkA’s funeral, she decided that she should and will commit herself to emulating as much as she can RivkA’s attitude, her finding the joy and love in life, rather than focusing on the negative.

After I posted yesterday’s blog about kicking myself in the cojones, I had a chance to take stock of a few things, and I had a lot of help in doing so.

Yes, I made a mistake. On the one hand, it was just a “little” brain-fart. On the other hand, the ramifications of it were significant – both to the group members, and to my company having to cover a lot of costs as a result of it.

But you know what? Everybody else involved in the soap opera – from the tour leader, to the hoteliers affected to my boss are being extremely gracious about recognizing that a mistake was made, but it was just that – a mistake. Nothing more. Nobody has said anything to make me feel bad over it (they couldn’t have made me feel worse than I felt already, even if they had tried) and all of the “players” in the episode have been very active in joining me in working through the issue and moving forward.

My job is not in danger, the group is (after all of the mess with the hotels) having a great time, and life is going on.

A lot of family and friends shared a lot of love - in the comments of the blog, on Facebook where I shared the link, in personal emails and Instant Messengers, and in person. I’ll say to you all right here and now – it helped – more than I can possibly put into words. You all made a huge difference for me and I thank and love you all for it.

You have all helped me take stock in what I do have going – and the fact that I’m not the tour operator that I have wanted to imagine myself being, cannot and will not take away from what I am, and what I can and will continue to aspire to be.

My reality, which I was overlooking yesterday when being caught up in my anger at myself is that:

* I have a family that I love with two wonderful little girls who have me so wrapped around their little fingers, it’s pathetic

* I have family – immediate and extended - and friends – near and far, young and old – that really gather around me (figuratively speaking, of course) when things are rough – and I didn’t feel anybody doing or saying anything our of obligation, but rather out of love and out of a desire to allow me to forgive myself and to feel better.

* I have a job which, in spite of the current group, is secure (or as secure as anything can be in the world of tourism) and I am being placed in that job in a position in which I really have every opportunity to shine

* I have recently found a real love of writing, which has not only brought a tremendous amount of positive feedback and reinforcement, but it has also provided me with an inner fulfillment and sense of accomplishment which I haven’t really experienced in a hell of a long time.

* I haven’t lost my sense of humor (OK – I know some folks don’t necessarily see that as a positive thing, but I can on occasion crack myself up, and that’s really what matters). Even during my down moments yesterday, while kicking myself and feeling sorry for myself for being kicked, I was still able to share a couple of light-hearted thoughts with my own (albeit, twisted) humor.

What’s the bottom line? I have family, friends, a very decent job, a (new-found) hobby, which I dearly love, and I still have the ability to laugh at the world around me and at myself.

Beyond that, I have the lessons and legacy left by one friend who departed us this week, and another one who is overcoming the crappy hand that her health and her body have dealt her recently – both of whom have enabled me to see a lot more around me than I sometimes notice.

Not a back scorecard to bring into the ball game, you know…?

They say (whoever the hell “they” are) that you can judge a man by his friends. If that’s true (and I believe that it is), then you guys have all ensured that I will get a good judgment.

Thank you all!

A kick in the groin. From myself

So, a realization hit me this week, and hit me hard. And it was a low blow, at that.

I have worked in Incoming Tourism now for just over 7 years, about two-thirds of that time as a tour operator, and the rest in Marketing and Sales. I enjoy both aspects of the work, and while I concede that my natural skills are more in the direction of the Marketing and Sales side of the business, I also really enjoy the operations side.

To give a working “definition” of what I’m talking about:

A Tour Operator is responsible for all of the land arranging for tours of groups, families, individuals, etc. that come into Israel. From meeting and assistance immediately after passport control at the airport through luggage claim until they return to the airport (and have meeting and assistance again to check their luggage and go through passport control). It is arranging the guide, bus, hotels, sites, meals, transfers, domestic flights within Israel, and whatever else is necessary (and requested) to make the trip the best it can possibly be. Some families just need us to arrange hotels and transfers for them, others request the full package. A Tour Operator is in charge of all of the logistics involved in the tour, and is usually very much behind the scenes. As far as the tourists are concerned, more often than not the operator doesn’t even exist. All of the “credit” goes to the tour agency abroad that arranged the trip and to the tour guide that is with the family or group throughout.

Most of the Incoming Tourism companies in Israel, as far as I know, do not work “directly” with the travelers. The clients are the travel agencies around the world whom people turn to for the trips. The agency in turn has its land operator (for example, my company) that makes all of the arrangements. The travelers pay their agency, the agency pays the land operator, and everybody is happy.

And most operators are behind the scenes, interfacing with the travel agency abroad and doing all of the grunt work, unbeknownst to the travelers themselves.

The Marketing & Sales side is different. Rather than getting involved in the detailed operation of each individual family or group, the Marketing people are responsible for getting the tour agencies abroad to choose them as their land operator. They do this by establishing and maintaining contact with agencies around the world, they create new and exciting programs that the agencies will want to try selling to their clientele, and they offer an initial cost proposal either for one of the new programs that they’ve created or for a specific itinerary requested by the agency. The Marketing staff nurtures a relationship with the agencies until they reach the point when the file (or files) can go into Operations and the tourists can start coming.

Both aspects of the business are crucial to a company’s success, and both aspects are very interesting, challenging, fun and fulfilling. And both are things which I’ve personally enjoyed working.

When I was first moved at my previous job from Operations into Marketing & Sales, I understood the rationale behind it – I am good at writing programs and itineraries, strong at communication with potential clients, and I personally have a successful background in sales. So it made a lot of sense.

But it also hurt me – because there was an element of my being a decent tour operator, but not a good one, or even a good one but not a great one. And I wanted to see myself as having succeeded in Operations.

My manager in Operations at that job, who had been one of the instrumental forces in moving me into Marketing had told me (and I honestly respect the way that she puts it all “on the table”) that I really should not be in Operations. She said that my strengths don’t lie in that direction (as opposed to the Marketing and Sales, which she claims is absolutely where my strengths are), and that working in operations – because I drive myself so crazy over things when they fall through the cracks – is not healthy for me.

I respect her opinion, and I have always seen her as a friend, but this still upset me a great deal. So I dealt with the disappointment, and threw myself into the Sales & Marketing side of things, which I enjoyed very much (despite having a very difficult boss – he is an absolutely brilliant VP of Marketing, but our personal chemistry made for some “interesting” days there…). When I left the company, this boss told me that despite our personal differences, my leaving did not make him happy.

I started at my current company as an operator, with the understanding that they would also want me working some of the time with the Director of Marketing & Sales.

So far so good. I was doing operations, and doing some Marketing stuff and life was good.

Then we got a new General Manager of Incoming (in short, a new boss for me) – it was my friend (and I am not using that word sarcastically or ironically) from my previous company – the Manager of Operations that feels that I’m really not cut out for operations.

She allowed me to continue the handful of files that I had already in motion, but decided that she really wanted to have me work full-time here with the Director of Marketing and Sales (which is also under her supervision).

It was on the one hand disappointing, because I do enjoy Operations, on the other hand reasonable because I also like Marketing (and I get along with the Marketing boss here much better than with the one at my previous job), and on the other hand (don’t ask how I have 3 hands – you really don’t want to know…) not at all surprising, given how this manager feels about me as a tour operator.

So, this week the last group that I will be operating arrived in Israel. I was so careful to go over everything with the proverbial “fine toothed comb” – checking every reservation 4 and 5 times, comparing it all to the itinerary, and cross-referencing it all with the original proposal sent to this agent a year ago (before I was even at this company). And I was ready to go out with a proverbial “bang”.

But you know what they say – the best laid plans, and all that crap….

In short, I screwed something up. In a huge way. And the worst thing about it is that was in one simple email which I sent 6 months ago. Without going into details, I had booked one set of hotels (nice, serviceable 4-star hotels) but accidentally gave the agent names of more luxurious 5-star hotels that the group would be staying (the names are very similar, so it's not as unthinkable a mistake as you might imagine, but still...)

So when the group arrived a couple of nights ago and they were brought to the 4-star hotel which I had booked for them, they nearly mutinied in the lobby that this was not what the agent (who is accompanying this group as the tour leader) had promised them.

My manager and I have spent the last 2 days patching things up with the group and with the agent, and by the end of the day tomorrow, I think (and sincerely hope) that everything will be squared away.

There is a Hebrew expression, ”ha’asimon nafal”, which translates “The token has fallen” (this expression dates back to 30 or so years ago and is a reference to the old public phones that Israel used to have. Rather than using coins, as phones in America and other places did, Israeli public phones used tokens, or asimonim, and the caller would put a few of these tokens in the phone, and a token would “fall through” every couple of minutes). So when we say ”ha’asimon nafal”, we mean that we finally get it. An idea that is obvious to everyone around us and their grandmother has finally become clear to us as well.

This week, my ”asimon" finally fell. I finally understood why I should be in Marketing and Sales and not in Operations. I love working Operations, but the time has come for me to face the reality that it isn’t what I should be doing in the world of tourism. I hate facing this reality. I hate even more that something that I should have seen and understood a long time ago, something that was so clear to so many people close to me whose opinions I respect, took me this long to finally “get”.

I know that in the long run, all will be well. My job is not in danger (for some reason) and I have proven myself – to my colleagues and bosses as well as to myself – to be very good at what I do in the Marketing & Sales department, so I have no reason to doubt that in the new role which I will now be taking on full-time, I’ll do just fine.

But I still can’t shake the disappointment in myself, and the, I guess embarrassment in not having have seen in myself what was so obvious to those around me. And I’m not sure what pisses me off more – that I’m not as good an operator as I want to be and have tried to be, or that I was so self-deluded about it for so long.

There’s no shame in recognizing where one’s strengths lie, and where they don't. But there is something wrong in not seeing what we are and what we are not.

These past couple of days, I finally started seeing a part what I really am. And what I’m not.

Remembering a friend

This past Saturday night, tens of thousands of people attended a rally in Tel Aviv commemorating the life – and more specifically – the death, of former Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin, who was murdered 15 years ago by a right-wing extremist.

At the same time, I was with about 1,000 other people commemorating the death – and more specifically – the life, of a friend, RivkA Mattitya, whose long battle with cancer finally came to an end on Friday.

On one hand, the cancer won out in the end – it claimed the life of another victim. On the other hand, maybe RivkA won the battle – after all, she is no longer suffering and in pain.

No matter which of them can be declared the “winner”, there is no question in my mind that the rest of us have all come out as the losers in this one.

I won’t spend this blog eulogizing RivkA too much. I doubt that I have anything to say about her that hasn’t been said by anyone and everyone that had the opportunity of knowing her. What’s more, I hadn’t really been in touch with RivkA for the last 3 or 4 years (which I referred to in my blog on October 20) but there are a few things that I feel that I can and perhaps even should share about her.

First of all – her name. You may have noticed the capital A at the end of RivkA’s name every time that I type it. Yes, I often do type a capital letter when I don’t intend to (the fun of having “full-figured” fingers and not being a particularly skilled typist). But this time it is completely intentional. One of the first things a person would learn about RivkA upon meeting her is that her name is pronounced Riv-KA – emphasis on the second syllable, as opposed to the more common pronunciation on the first syllable. She would never get angry about the pronunciation, but she left no doubt that this was more than a mere “request” or preference. This was how she expected her name to be pronounced when she was being spoken to.

And nobody had a problem with that (it may have been hard to remember sometimes – but only one time per conversation).

There are a couple of things that speak the loudest for what an amazing woman RivkA was. One, obviously, is the number of people that attended her funeral. Over 1,000 people coming to a funeral – after the Sabbath, at 10:00 at night (we won’t even go into the idea of being in a cemetery at midnight the night before Halloween…). More than half of the people in attendance stood outside – in the relatively cold weather, listening to nearly an hour and a half of eulogies, all to pay tribute to this woman.

People don’t do that – especially not that many people, for just “anyone”. They do that when they feel that the hole being left by a person’s passing is a significant hole, and they wish to join together in love with others who are feeling the same sense of loss.

The second thing that emphasizes (for me, at any rate) the affect that RivkA had on people is actually based on Facebook. She and I have 78 “mutual friends”, which in and of itself is not so unheard of when you have a lot of Facebook friends. What amazes me about the 78 mutual friends that we share is how many different times and places in my life these friends represent. It’s not that we shared a big circle of buddies all in touch on Facebook – but rather, she is friends with people I know from Jerusalem, from Modi’in (where I currently live), friends that I knew when I studied at Bar Ilan University, and several other sources of my friends – most of which RivkA had not been with me. One of the friends that posted on her wall after she passed away on Friday is actually a friend of my wife from her childhood!

RivkA touched people all over the place – religious and secular, in Israel and abroad, old, young and everything in between.

She kept a blog throughout her battle with cancer – called “Coffee and Chemo” in which she not only chronicled the fight for her life, but also shared her vast wisdom about a plethora of other, more personal subjects. RivkA was an open book – she was never shy about sharing anything, or about asking anything about those with whom she spoke, and regarded as friends. Her openness, her honesty, and her love of her fellow mankind were an inspiration, and she will be sorely missed.

The last thing that I would share about RivkA was mentioned at great length in every single eulogy delivered the other night, and rightfully so, because more than anything and everything else, it was her most defining quality. Anyone who had the pleasure of knowing RivkA can probably already guess that I’m referring to her love and commitment to her family.

Years ago, when I was studying in yeshiva (a learning center of Jewish texts, thought and tradition), a student asked one of the Rabbis about the Jewish view of life after death.

The first thing that the Rav said was that, as with pretty much every topic, there is no “one” Jewish view or approach, but many. All the more because, since nobody has yet died and then come back to tell us what was going down on the “other side”, we can’t really know, we can only guess.

The second thing that the Rav said was that there was one of the approaches in Jewish thought to life after death that particularly appealed to him. He said that the way that a person touches those around them while they are alive determines their “life after death”. Not in a spiritual, or hard to grasp way, but something much more down-to-earth. The way in which we relate to those around us – the love we show our friends, family, colleagues and even strangers – stays with them in some form or fashion. When that effect is a positive one, then those touched by us, in turn are able to touch others in the same way (maybe it’s just me, but it sort of reminds me of the old (and very annoying) commercial for Faberge shampoo – “they tell two friends, and they tell two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on…”).

Here, it’s the same thing. What people gain from us, they pass on to those in their lives, who in turn pass it on to those in their lives, and so on, and so on, and so on. In that sense, a part of us can continue living forever – through the legacy that we leave with those that we love and that love us in return.

If all of her friends are feeling the loss of RivkA as strongly as we are, I cannot even begin to imagine the emptiness being felt right now by her husband and 3 children. My thoughts are with them, as are my prayers that they – and all of us are able to keep all that we were fortunate enough to gain from knowing RivkA, and continue passing it on to those in our lives, and in doing so, that we will always keep a big part of RivkA alive.

May her memory always be a blessing.

Follow up to the Pink Whistle Saga

Some interesting (I think/hope) developments regarding the blog that I posted yesterday about the referees at the high school football game in Washington state.

After I posted the blog, my mother read it, and sent a very strongly worded email to the WOA (Washington Officials Association).

A quick side note about my mother – she is (as I mentioned in the other blog) a cancer survivor (19 years now, and still going strong, Thank God!), and she is a writer and editor – so when she has something to write, you can bet that there will not be any misunderstandings in her message.

Anyway – rather than advertizing her writing skills, history or perspective, I’ll simply share what she wrote:

What in heaven's name were you thinking! A group of referees at a high school football game made a symbolic show of support for the players and fans who want to join the fight against a disease that kills one in nine women, and thousands of men, as well. More than that, they made a material show of support by donating their pay for the evening to the cause. And you want to punish them--not for poor officiating, but for putting a whistle around their necks that was a non-standard color? Not only was your decision ludicrous, but it opened your organization to criticism throughout the county, throughout the state of Washington, across the United States, and around the world. You're afraid that the kids will learn it's okay to break the rules? Baloney! The kids and their families are supporting a major effort to fight a deadly disease. The people officiating at the game were joining them. They're learning the importance of standing up for important causes. More power to them! The referees didn't lose validity in this one--the WOA lost validity, credibility, and respect. The television news report of your action was downloaded onto the Web and has thus far been seen by more than a quarter-million people around the world. The only positive result is that you folks come across looking utterly ridiculous. You're the latest laughing-stock on the web. Great move, people!

Mardi Zeiger

To the credit of the WOA, she received a reply within just a few hours. The reply was this:

Thank you for your comments.

The Washington Officials Association is completely in support of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, the Susan G. Komen Foundation, and many other worthy causes. We sincerely regret that the media coverage has given a different impression. The media has not accurately reported the entire story. The issue at hand is not about wearing pink whistles at a football game. The WOA has not and will not suspend, reprimand, or take game checks away from any officials for wearing pink whistles. The WOA has a process for reviewing decisions made by our commissioner and our member associations. That process will be followed and all affected parties will have an opportunity to present their side of the story. We only ask that you reserve judgment until you hear the complete story not just what you see and hear in the media.

Sincerely,

Dean Corcoran
Vice President
WOA Executive Board

I have to admit, this is a very reasonable answer from the WOA, and I truly hope that their actions validate the sincerity that I feel Mr. Corcoran’s letter displays.

However, I think that it is also very important to note that what he writes in the letter is pretty diametrically opposed to what the WOA representative interviewed in the news clip actually said.

So, while Mr. Corcoran feels that the media “has not accurately reported the entire story”, it is very easy to understand what led the media to "misunderstand" the WOA's position.

And since Mr. Corcoran writes that the “issue at hand is not about wearing pink whistles at a football game”, I would be very curious to hear what the issue at hand truly is. Again – I don’t think anybody can be faulted for believing that pink whistles are the issue, considering the actual statements made on the air by the WOA representative.

I was especially pleased to read that Mr. Corcoran wrote that the WOA has not and will not suspend, reprimand, or take game checks away from any officials for wearing pink whistles. That would have been beyond ridiculous and I am pleased that it will not be the case.

I respect Mr. Corcoran’s request that people hear the complete story before judging what we believe is right and wrong, but it all boils back to the issue which I mentioned a couple of paragraphs ago – what is the real issue at hand?

If the issue is, as the WOA representative also mentioned in the interview, that the referees didn’t go through the proper channels in coordinating the whistles with the WOA, then that is a reasonable point for the WOA to make. But I honestly cannot see it being worthy of any punishment or action. If the WOA asks the referees to be more conscientious of requesting special considerations like this in the future, I cannot imagine that the refs will refuse to do so, or even that they will not understand that this is an appropriate condition for the WOA to lay down.

If the issue is something else, then I’m at a complete loss, because all we have to go on at this point is what the official said in the interview (or – in the interest of fairness, what the news program actually aired of the interview). So it makes sense that we reserve our judgment and see how this unfolds.

There is one thing that I do feel that I can say at this point, no matter what the “whole story” is and no matter what the “real issue at hand”. The person who was interviewed in the name of the WOA represented the organization in a completely horrible manner. Even if we only heard parts of the interview, some of what he said was completely inexcusable.

A major first step for the WOA, for me, at least, would be to dismiss that spokesman from the organization and to completely and unmistakably distance themselves from the ludicrous statements that he made.