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.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
A little perspective, anyone…?
I have to admit that I am more than a little bit puzzled over this one.
I'd like to review the highlights of the story and its background to make sure that I'm not missing anything here. If I inadvertently leave something out – particularly something that might provide a better understanding to the whole thing, please let me know…
a. In recent months there has been a great deal of awareness-raising for cancer – both the disease and the research for it
b. Cancer has yet to have been defeated by science, so the more people join in the awareness campaign, the donations campaign, etc. then the better chance we have of defeating cancer in our lifetime.
c. Fans and athletes at many sporting events on all levels – high school, college and professional have taken part in this awareness campaign by wearing pink shoes, ribbons, etc.
d. The high school football in question was also used as a major Cancer Awareness event, and the officials – on their own volition decided both to donate one game's pay to cancer research as well as to be part of the spirit of the event and the entire movement by using pink whistles for this one game.
Now – maybe it's just me, but I would think that these officials should be getting a national recognition for their willingness to see the much bigger picture than a high school football game. They understood that this particular game was being used as a platform for a very important cause, and they chose to be a part of it 2 ways – putting some money up and joining all of the fans and millions of people worldwide with the use of the color pink to heighten awareness to cancer.
If I were on the Washington Officials Association (WOA), the body that oversees officials at all sanctioned sporting events in the state, I would want to show my appreciation for the gesture these officials made – perhaps by having the WOA match their donation for cancer research; or perhaps by having officials of all sanctioned sporting events in the state use pink whistles for the next week, or whatever period of time.
Unfortunately, I'm not in the WOA, and I'm not even anyone of importance that the WOA would ever listen to or give a damn what I think.
This is especially a pity because the WOA apparently has a very different reaction to the officials' gesture than I do. Their approach is that since the uniform protocol is supposed to use black whistles, then these officials were in violation of the rules and need to be appropriately punished.- probably being prevented from officiated a couple of playoff games and therefore losing their salaries for those games (in addition to the one game salary that they have all decided to donate to cancer research!).
The WOA official interviewed says that "it sends the wrong message to kids that are playing the games. That if they (the referees) can choose to break the rules, then why can't other people do the same thing?"
Pardon my ignorance here, but are you kidding me???
The only message these officials are sending to the kids playing the game is that there are things more important than a football game, and while we're out here having a great time on the field, let's not forget some of the battles that we all have together as part of the global community.
If the WOA can't see far enough past their precious rule book to see the real message here, then perhaps the state of Washington needs to replace its overseeing body of sports officials.
And if these officials truly are punished for their actions last week, then I hope that every athletic official in the state of Washington as well as every athlete goes on strike and refuse to play or officiate a single sporting event until both the punishment is overturned and Todd Stordahl is replaced as the head of the WOA.
Personally, as someone whose mother is (thanks God) a cancer survivor, as someone who has lost other friends to cancer, and as someone who right now has a couple of friends currently fighting cancer (including one friend whi is hospitalized in Jerusalem as this is being written), I salute every one of the officials, players, fans and organizers who have managed to turn an "ordinary" high school football game into an extaordinary example of what's truly important in life.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Sometimes the furthest distance is only a bus ride away
I received two bits of news the other day – and they came from opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of good and bad.
In spite of that, both pieces of news had a lot in common – most significantly that they both came as a complete surprise to me, which was primarily because I have not been as good as staying in touch and keeping up with friends – even though they are more or less “local” and not half a world away.
I posted one of my silly status updates on Facebook (shocking, I know! I mean, how often do I do something like that?), and a very dear friend commented on the post that
a) she didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop laughing so hard (I understood why – no matter how immature the joke was, it was funny as hell!) and
b) we really should get together before she gives birth in the next 2 months.
This blew me away – I had no idea that she is even pregnant! Now, understand – this is not some casual “take her or leave her” kind of a friend. This is a woman who, years ago when Sharon and I were considered a “young, recently married couple” was a regular guest in our house – during the week, and even more so on Shabbat (she was one of those friends who felt comfortable calling us on Friday morning and saying that she didn’t have a place for Shabbat dinner that night, and what could she bring - that close of a friend).
When our oldest child, Revital was born, this friend was one of the first to visit us in the hospital and hold the new baby. And she has watched the girls grow up and they know her so well that she got married about 3 years ago, it was worth keeping the girls up later than usual on a week night to be at her wedding. She really is one of the friends that we have felt exceptionally close to for many years.
Yet, I didn’t even know that she was expecting her second child.
What makes it even worse is that we haven’t seen her since before she gave birth to her first child a couple of years ago. We’ve seen pictures on line, but have never met this sweet little girl! (Even though we haven’t met her, it goes without saying that based on who her parents are of COURSE she is a sweet little girl!)
The whole thing made me realize how much I have let myself lose touch with somebody who is very important to me. And if I’m so out of touch with this friend, one who was essentially an “adopted” member of our household, how much more out of touch am I with other friends that I also treasure that maybe were not quite as close to us as this friend always was?
It’s a very sobering, and unsettling thought.
And later that same day it hit me even harder with the second piece of news.
One of the blogs that I follow is that of a very close friend who has spent the majority (I cannot call it “the better part”) of the last 3 years going through various surgeries, recovery times, further surgeries, relapses, etc. She blogs to keep her friends up to date on the physical, emotional and psychological ups and downs that the entire ordeal continues to have for her and her family.
In the middle of all the crap her body has been putting her through, she blogged the other day about visiting a close friend of hers in the hospital in Jerusalem. This is a friend that has cancer, and has been getting sicker. I read the blog, and felt terrible for what my friend has to go through – seeing another friend suffer while her own body is fighting its own sickness. Then it occured to me that she and I know a lot of the same people in Jerusalem, and I wondered if her friend fighting cancer is someone that I know as well.
I texted my friend and she told me who it is. It is a woman that I have known for close to 20 years.
Now – this woman is not somebody that I was ever as close to as I am with the pregnant friend, but she is also more than just a “casual acquaintance”. We have several mutual friends, have often “run” in the same circles, and when I have had Shabbat meals at her home – both before she was married and after she had kids. I knew that she had been sick a few years ago, but not for any particular reason, I never kept up with her blog and I never knew that she had been diagnosed with cancer. Much less know that it has not been a successful battle.
I am still reeling over this. I feel that simply the fact that I had no idea what her condition is reflects on how much I’ve let myself get so wrapped up in my own life – which, while not boring and not necessarily “easy” has been blessed in a lot of ways with “normalcy”.
But that day to day normalcy has made me fall completely out of touch with too many of the people that mean a lot to me - with their joy and their pain, their success, their hopes, dreams, endeavors, fears, plans…
The list goes on and on.
Ironically, over the past few years I think that I have been very good at establishing, nurturing and maintaining friendships that are not so local. I have “met” some wonderful people over the internet, and eventually some of them even in real life, and I love the friendships that I have managed to keep up with when it came to emails, chats, and online communities. I wouldn’t trade these long-distance internet friendships for anything in the world.
Now is the time for me to keep that perspective regarding my friends that have been a part of my “non-virtual” life. It’s time to find a way to be as a good a friend to those that are a bus ride away as I’ve worked at being to those that are visible only on a computer screen. My friends here are worth that every bit as much as the friends that I have only “met” online.
I cannot allow myself to hear the big things – not the good and not the bad – so long after I should anymore.
In spite of that, both pieces of news had a lot in common – most significantly that they both came as a complete surprise to me, which was primarily because I have not been as good as staying in touch and keeping up with friends – even though they are more or less “local” and not half a world away.
I posted one of my silly status updates on Facebook (shocking, I know! I mean, how often do I do something like that?), and a very dear friend commented on the post that
a) she didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop laughing so hard (I understood why – no matter how immature the joke was, it was funny as hell!) and
b) we really should get together before she gives birth in the next 2 months.
This blew me away – I had no idea that she is even pregnant! Now, understand – this is not some casual “take her or leave her” kind of a friend. This is a woman who, years ago when Sharon and I were considered a “young, recently married couple” was a regular guest in our house – during the week, and even more so on Shabbat (she was one of those friends who felt comfortable calling us on Friday morning and saying that she didn’t have a place for Shabbat dinner that night, and what could she bring - that close of a friend).
When our oldest child, Revital was born, this friend was one of the first to visit us in the hospital and hold the new baby. And she has watched the girls grow up and they know her so well that she got married about 3 years ago, it was worth keeping the girls up later than usual on a week night to be at her wedding. She really is one of the friends that we have felt exceptionally close to for many years.
Yet, I didn’t even know that she was expecting her second child.
What makes it even worse is that we haven’t seen her since before she gave birth to her first child a couple of years ago. We’ve seen pictures on line, but have never met this sweet little girl! (Even though we haven’t met her, it goes without saying that based on who her parents are of COURSE she is a sweet little girl!)
The whole thing made me realize how much I have let myself lose touch with somebody who is very important to me. And if I’m so out of touch with this friend, one who was essentially an “adopted” member of our household, how much more out of touch am I with other friends that I also treasure that maybe were not quite as close to us as this friend always was?
It’s a very sobering, and unsettling thought.
And later that same day it hit me even harder with the second piece of news.
One of the blogs that I follow is that of a very close friend who has spent the majority (I cannot call it “the better part”) of the last 3 years going through various surgeries, recovery times, further surgeries, relapses, etc. She blogs to keep her friends up to date on the physical, emotional and psychological ups and downs that the entire ordeal continues to have for her and her family.
In the middle of all the crap her body has been putting her through, she blogged the other day about visiting a close friend of hers in the hospital in Jerusalem. This is a friend that has cancer, and has been getting sicker. I read the blog, and felt terrible for what my friend has to go through – seeing another friend suffer while her own body is fighting its own sickness. Then it occured to me that she and I know a lot of the same people in Jerusalem, and I wondered if her friend fighting cancer is someone that I know as well.
I texted my friend and she told me who it is. It is a woman that I have known for close to 20 years.
Now – this woman is not somebody that I was ever as close to as I am with the pregnant friend, but she is also more than just a “casual acquaintance”. We have several mutual friends, have often “run” in the same circles, and when I have had Shabbat meals at her home – both before she was married and after she had kids. I knew that she had been sick a few years ago, but not for any particular reason, I never kept up with her blog and I never knew that she had been diagnosed with cancer. Much less know that it has not been a successful battle.
I am still reeling over this. I feel that simply the fact that I had no idea what her condition is reflects on how much I’ve let myself get so wrapped up in my own life – which, while not boring and not necessarily “easy” has been blessed in a lot of ways with “normalcy”.
But that day to day normalcy has made me fall completely out of touch with too many of the people that mean a lot to me - with their joy and their pain, their success, their hopes, dreams, endeavors, fears, plans…
The list goes on and on.
Ironically, over the past few years I think that I have been very good at establishing, nurturing and maintaining friendships that are not so local. I have “met” some wonderful people over the internet, and eventually some of them even in real life, and I love the friendships that I have managed to keep up with when it came to emails, chats, and online communities. I wouldn’t trade these long-distance internet friendships for anything in the world.
Now is the time for me to keep that perspective regarding my friends that have been a part of my “non-virtual” life. It’s time to find a way to be as a good a friend to those that are a bus ride away as I’ve worked at being to those that are visible only on a computer screen. My friends here are worth that every bit as much as the friends that I have only “met” online.
I cannot allow myself to hear the big things – not the good and not the bad – so long after I should anymore.
Monday, October 18, 2010
And then there are the days that everything goes just right...
Sharon is away for a day and a half. Her company has an office in the northernmost part of Israel, and occasionally – like today – she has a full day of meetings and work there. So last night she got a company car an drove to her sister’s house in the north in order to make this morning’s trip about 1 ½ - 2 hours long instead about an hour longer than that.
{Ironically amusing side note: She ended up not really saving the time, because this morning she had to pick up a colleague from Caesarea to bring to the northern office, which meant driving about 30 minutes south before going back to the north, so the hour she put into that would have been the same as if she had started from home this morning. Oh well – she did get to see her sister, nieces and nephews – albeit briefly – and do a very nice thing for a co-worker}
Anyway, her being away like that is not the end of the world, and I like to think that I am an involved-enough father that taking care of the girls on my own isn’t a big deal. And the truth is that with us both working full-time and needing to find the right balance in allowing each other the chance to meet our hours requirements at work, that there are plenty of evenings that one of us works later while the other one is “on solo duty” with the kids, and plenty of mornings that one of us goes in early and the other one is in charge of the morning up-and-out routine.
So, doing the “temporary single dad” thing is nothing new to me. Like with all parenting (and everything else, for that matter) sometimes it goes more smoothly, and sometimes less so – no different than when Sharon and I are both on the scene.
Last night and this morning, though, were absolutely amazing!
First, Revital (our almost-9 year old) went from school to a friend’s house. Actually the friend whose house it is was away, but her mother, who is here visiting did us a wonderful favor by letting her come over, and then picked up Limor (our almost-6 year old) a little while later. When she brought her own granddaughter to her afternoon activity at 5:00, she then dropped off our girls at the house, about 10 minutes before I got home. I was in touch with Revital on the phone and made sure that she got her backpack ready for today and had her sneakers on for her tennis class at 6:00.
I got home, gave the girls a quick snack, then we brought Revital to tennis. Then Limor and I went to the shopping center, bought pizza for both of them and went back to wait for Revital’s tennis lesson to end. While we waited, Limor started eating her pizza and we had some quality relating time while we waited for Revital.
Revital finished whacking that poor ball around, then we got home right at 7:00 and both girls finished eating (actually that's also when Revital started eating). I let them eat and watch a little bit of TV, then they got their pajamas on, brushed teeth and did the Sh’ma for me (the night time prayer right before bed – I absolutely love hearing them each do that prayer!).
Revital got into bed a few minutes before 8, with the deal that she would read her English book for her book report at school for a while, then I would allow her time to read in Hebrew (she reads very nicely in English, but it’s often a struggle getting her to do it. She is a bookworm like me, but for her the relaxation of reading comes from reading in Hebrew, so I was pleased with the deal we struck last night).
When Revital got into bed, Limor picked out a book for me to read to her, and we had a great time doing that – then by 8:10, while Revital was quietly, calmly and happily reading on the top bunk, Limor went to bed on the bottom bunk and was fast asleep within about 10 minutes.
I let Revital read until about 9 (even if we turn out the lights earlier, she is almost never asleep before then anyway, so we figure that if she’s going to fall asleep after 9 no matter what, then better the time before she falls asleep be a calm time when she’s in a good place psychologically and emotionally). After about 25 minutes of her reading in English, I told her that she could switch to Hebrew. At 9:00 I told her that it was time to stop and with no arguing she gave me the book, a good night kiss and was asleep by 9:15.
At about midnight, I heard something in the living room (while I was in the computer room), so I came out and there was Limor asleep on the couch. She couldn’t have been there more than a minute or so. Apparently the need for peepee made her body get out of bed, but didn’t actually wake her up, so her body just came into the living room and continued sleeping there. Fortunately she was still dry, and I was able to get her onto the toilet, then back to bed.
A couple of hours later, when I was asleep, Limor woke up again. This time she knew to go to the bathroom herself, and when she finished, she brought her pillow into my room, climbed into my bed, put her arm around me and fell back asleep.
Can you say “Absolute Heaven”…?
This morning was a continuation of last night – I managed to get up early enough (without waking the sleeping angel in my bed) and finish getting all of the dishes done, the laundry put away, the load that washed overnight hung up, and showered and did my morning prayers before I had to wake up the girls.
They both woke up in good moods, didn’t take as long as they are occasionally wont to take in getting dressed, eating, brushing hair and teeth, and we got out of the house in time to get Revital to her bus stop for school, and for me and Limor to get on the bus to her gan (kindergarten), all early enough for me to catch the 8:03 train to Tel Aviv (and have time to get my coffee on the way to the train station!)
When I spoke to Revital after school this afternoon, when she was on her way to her afternoon care, it was clear that she continued having a good day throughout and sounded to be in a good place still.
They both have wonderful afternoon caretakers, and the sitter that we have to pick them up this afternoon and get them home is a fantastic young woman (the daughter of very close friends that are part of the long-term friends I mentioned a couple of blogs ago), so it seems very likely that the rest of the afternoon will continue to be a good one for them.
Sharon will be getting home pretty late tonight from the north – very possibly after the girls have gone to bed, so I am hoping that we can keep the tone that we’ve managed to set over the past couple of days.
Days like these are what I live for. They give me a hope that balances out the more difficult days – when either the kids aren’t able to get themselves settled in, or when I’m not in a good place with the necessary patience to go with the flow of things.
My hope and my prayer is that when the girls are older and they look back on their childhood, that these are the days that stand out in their memories. That they remember the love, the comfort, the laughter and the hugs of days like yesterday and today.
I know that’s what I’ll be aiming to remember.
{Ironically amusing side note: She ended up not really saving the time, because this morning she had to pick up a colleague from Caesarea to bring to the northern office, which meant driving about 30 minutes south before going back to the north, so the hour she put into that would have been the same as if she had started from home this morning. Oh well – she did get to see her sister, nieces and nephews – albeit briefly – and do a very nice thing for a co-worker}
Anyway, her being away like that is not the end of the world, and I like to think that I am an involved-enough father that taking care of the girls on my own isn’t a big deal. And the truth is that with us both working full-time and needing to find the right balance in allowing each other the chance to meet our hours requirements at work, that there are plenty of evenings that one of us works later while the other one is “on solo duty” with the kids, and plenty of mornings that one of us goes in early and the other one is in charge of the morning up-and-out routine.
So, doing the “temporary single dad” thing is nothing new to me. Like with all parenting (and everything else, for that matter) sometimes it goes more smoothly, and sometimes less so – no different than when Sharon and I are both on the scene.
Last night and this morning, though, were absolutely amazing!
First, Revital (our almost-9 year old) went from school to a friend’s house. Actually the friend whose house it is was away, but her mother, who is here visiting did us a wonderful favor by letting her come over, and then picked up Limor (our almost-6 year old) a little while later. When she brought her own granddaughter to her afternoon activity at 5:00, she then dropped off our girls at the house, about 10 minutes before I got home. I was in touch with Revital on the phone and made sure that she got her backpack ready for today and had her sneakers on for her tennis class at 6:00.
I got home, gave the girls a quick snack, then we brought Revital to tennis. Then Limor and I went to the shopping center, bought pizza for both of them and went back to wait for Revital’s tennis lesson to end. While we waited, Limor started eating her pizza and we had some quality relating time while we waited for Revital.
Revital finished whacking that poor ball around, then we got home right at 7:00 and both girls finished eating (actually that's also when Revital started eating). I let them eat and watch a little bit of TV, then they got their pajamas on, brushed teeth and did the Sh’ma for me (the night time prayer right before bed – I absolutely love hearing them each do that prayer!).
Revital got into bed a few minutes before 8, with the deal that she would read her English book for her book report at school for a while, then I would allow her time to read in Hebrew (she reads very nicely in English, but it’s often a struggle getting her to do it. She is a bookworm like me, but for her the relaxation of reading comes from reading in Hebrew, so I was pleased with the deal we struck last night).
When Revital got into bed, Limor picked out a book for me to read to her, and we had a great time doing that – then by 8:10, while Revital was quietly, calmly and happily reading on the top bunk, Limor went to bed on the bottom bunk and was fast asleep within about 10 minutes.
I let Revital read until about 9 (even if we turn out the lights earlier, she is almost never asleep before then anyway, so we figure that if she’s going to fall asleep after 9 no matter what, then better the time before she falls asleep be a calm time when she’s in a good place psychologically and emotionally). After about 25 minutes of her reading in English, I told her that she could switch to Hebrew. At 9:00 I told her that it was time to stop and with no arguing she gave me the book, a good night kiss and was asleep by 9:15.
At about midnight, I heard something in the living room (while I was in the computer room), so I came out and there was Limor asleep on the couch. She couldn’t have been there more than a minute or so. Apparently the need for peepee made her body get out of bed, but didn’t actually wake her up, so her body just came into the living room and continued sleeping there. Fortunately she was still dry, and I was able to get her onto the toilet, then back to bed.
A couple of hours later, when I was asleep, Limor woke up again. This time she knew to go to the bathroom herself, and when she finished, she brought her pillow into my room, climbed into my bed, put her arm around me and fell back asleep.
Can you say “Absolute Heaven”…?
This morning was a continuation of last night – I managed to get up early enough (without waking the sleeping angel in my bed) and finish getting all of the dishes done, the laundry put away, the load that washed overnight hung up, and showered and did my morning prayers before I had to wake up the girls.
They both woke up in good moods, didn’t take as long as they are occasionally wont to take in getting dressed, eating, brushing hair and teeth, and we got out of the house in time to get Revital to her bus stop for school, and for me and Limor to get on the bus to her gan (kindergarten), all early enough for me to catch the 8:03 train to Tel Aviv (and have time to get my coffee on the way to the train station!)
When I spoke to Revital after school this afternoon, when she was on her way to her afternoon care, it was clear that she continued having a good day throughout and sounded to be in a good place still.
They both have wonderful afternoon caretakers, and the sitter that we have to pick them up this afternoon and get them home is a fantastic young woman (the daughter of very close friends that are part of the long-term friends I mentioned a couple of blogs ago), so it seems very likely that the rest of the afternoon will continue to be a good one for them.
Sharon will be getting home pretty late tonight from the north – very possibly after the girls have gone to bed, so I am hoping that we can keep the tone that we’ve managed to set over the past couple of days.
Days like these are what I live for. They give me a hope that balances out the more difficult days – when either the kids aren’t able to get themselves settled in, or when I’m not in a good place with the necessary patience to go with the flow of things.
My hope and my prayer is that when the girls are older and they look back on their childhood, that these are the days that stand out in their memories. That they remember the love, the comfort, the laughter and the hugs of days like yesterday and today.
I know that’s what I’ll be aiming to remember.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Feeling old and loving what's causing it
Sharon and I attended a wedding last week.
It’s funny – I remember at our wedding, and many years before that at my Bar Mitzvah – meeting many guests, technically guests from “my” side of the occasion, who were friends or colleagues of my parents, that I had never met. It was very nice that they had come to honor my parents and to participate in our family’s joyous occasion, but it struck me as a little bit odd that they were celebrating with/for a person they didn’t really know (i.e. l’il old me).
Now it was our turn. We are very friendly with the parents of the bride – we live about a block away from one another, attend the same synagogue and occasionally walk to or from services together, the father and I often see each other on the train to or from Tel Aviv where we both work in the morning and we have been to each other’s homes for meals on Shabbat or holidays before.
But I have met the bride herself, not more than once or twice, and even then barely spoken with her (it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that we have never met the groom or anyone in his family).
So now that I was the “other side” of the picture, it seemed less odd than it did when I was younger.
All in all, it was a very lovely evening, and as there were several other couples from our synagogue and neighborhood, we had several friends with whom to socialize. The venue was absolutely gorgeous, and we had a wonderful time.
And it made me feel very very old.
Not just because now we were the friends of the parents attending a celebration of people that we don’t know. I could deal with that part. No – what made me feel old was paradoxically one of the most appealing aspects of the entire evening. It was watching the friends of the bride and groom – all in the late-teens / early 20’s dancing throughout.
In a traditional religious Jewish wedding, there is a lot of dancing. One of the things incumbent upon guests, families and friends is to “make the bride and groom happy”, So when the groom is signing the marriage contract (the Ketubah), there is a lot of singing and dancing around him. Then the men dance him (i.e. escort him by dancing in front of him while moving themselves backwards) to where the bride is waiting. In the meantime, many of the bride’s friends and family have been singing and dancing around her.
When the groom arrives at the bride’s chair, there is what is called the Bedeken – which is the part of the ceremony where the groom sees the face of his bride for the first time in (my most traditions) a week, and he lowers the veil over her face (the root of this is the Biblical story of our forefather Jacob, who had arranged to marry the love of his life, the beautiful Rachel, only to have her father “switch” her on the wedding night with her sister Leah, so now we men get the chance to make sure that we’re getting what we’re paying for).
After the Bedeken, the men once again escort the groom – this time with his parents (or sometimes – as in this particular wedding last week – with the 2 fathers) dancing him to the Chuppah (the wedding canopy). All the while the women are singing and dancing around the bride, until the men have finished bringing the groom to his place, and they return to dance the bride to the Chuppah.
{Side note – this is not the case in every wedding. In many traditional weddings the bride and groom are not danced to the Chuppah, but in a much quieter and low-key ceremony simply escorted by their respective parents. This was definitely not one of those “low-key” weddings}
So, back to what made me feel so old, while also making this wedding a thoroughly enjoyable time for someone who doesn’t really know either the bride or the groom.
All these young whippersnappers had spent the last half an hour or so dancing almost non-stop, and it was finally time for the actual wedding ceremony. The Chuppah itself was on a little island in a man-made pond (complete with real fish swimming in it) and one needed to cross a small bridge to get to the Chuppah.
Once they had danced the groom to his rightful, then escorted the bride by dance, they all settled on and near the bridge. The first thing that happens when the bride arrives at the Chuppah is that she circles the groom 7 times, all the while with music playing. I looked over and saw a couple of dozen young adults all hoppin’ and boppin’ to the music, seemingly with no end to their energy.
As the ceremony goes on, after the Rabbi speaks for a little while (he spoke very beautiful and did not drag it out at all), then is the time for the 7 blessings said under the Chuppah, by friends and family members whom the bride and groom wish to honor. After each blessing, it is announced who will recite the next blessing, and while that person is making his way through the throng over the bridge and to the Chuppah, the band is playing, these young adults were up and dancing again. It was absolutely amazing!
Once the ceremony was over, it was time to (what else?) dance the newly married couple to the Yichud Room, which is where the bride and groom are able to enjoy a short amount of time together alone for the first time as husband and wife (usually the time is spent eating and drinking something because a) the bride and groom have been fasting the day of their wedding until after the ceremony and b) almost no couples that I know ever actually get to eat during the wedding meal itself). Once the friends all finish dancing them to the Yichud room and dancing their way back – they take a short break, until the bride and groom come out at which time the dancing starts all over again.
Now is when the serious dancing gets under way. In traditional Jewish weddings the men and women dance separately from one another, so I couldn’t really see the women (although if what I saw earlier was any indication they were going every bit as strong as the men), but on the men’s side it was an unbelievably high level of energy. They were going without resting, without slowing seemingly forever.
It made me feel old because I doubt that even when I was that age, and in much better physical shape, that I could have kept up with these kids. Now, I know that I would last a few minutes at their pace – no more than that.
The beauty of it was this – the bride and groom are very young, and undoubtedly among the first (if not the first) of their circle of friends to get married. As is very common in the religious circles, over the next 3 or 4 years, this same group of friends will gather together for several more weddings – each time involving one (or two) of the kids that were celebrating this wedding last week.
The joy and the love that these kids have for one another, and the absolute pleasure that they all take in celebrating the happiness of their friends is one of the most moving things I could ever hope to witness.
Last week, I posted a blog about the double Bar Mitzvah that we recently attended at the kibbutz of very close friends, and I described (in probably too-much detail) the friendship of this whole circle of friends that I am very blessed to have all living in Israel.
Watching the love, the joy, and the boundless energy and happiness of these young adults at the wedding last week allowed me to see that they have this same blessing of amazing friends that I have been fortunate enough to have.
May the happy couple merit building a faithful house in Israel.
It’s funny – I remember at our wedding, and many years before that at my Bar Mitzvah – meeting many guests, technically guests from “my” side of the occasion, who were friends or colleagues of my parents, that I had never met. It was very nice that they had come to honor my parents and to participate in our family’s joyous occasion, but it struck me as a little bit odd that they were celebrating with/for a person they didn’t really know (i.e. l’il old me).
Now it was our turn. We are very friendly with the parents of the bride – we live about a block away from one another, attend the same synagogue and occasionally walk to or from services together, the father and I often see each other on the train to or from Tel Aviv where we both work in the morning and we have been to each other’s homes for meals on Shabbat or holidays before.
But I have met the bride herself, not more than once or twice, and even then barely spoken with her (it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that we have never met the groom or anyone in his family).
So now that I was the “other side” of the picture, it seemed less odd than it did when I was younger.
All in all, it was a very lovely evening, and as there were several other couples from our synagogue and neighborhood, we had several friends with whom to socialize. The venue was absolutely gorgeous, and we had a wonderful time.
And it made me feel very very old.
Not just because now we were the friends of the parents attending a celebration of people that we don’t know. I could deal with that part. No – what made me feel old was paradoxically one of the most appealing aspects of the entire evening. It was watching the friends of the bride and groom – all in the late-teens / early 20’s dancing throughout.
In a traditional religious Jewish wedding, there is a lot of dancing. One of the things incumbent upon guests, families and friends is to “make the bride and groom happy”, So when the groom is signing the marriage contract (the Ketubah), there is a lot of singing and dancing around him. Then the men dance him (i.e. escort him by dancing in front of him while moving themselves backwards) to where the bride is waiting. In the meantime, many of the bride’s friends and family have been singing and dancing around her.
When the groom arrives at the bride’s chair, there is what is called the Bedeken – which is the part of the ceremony where the groom sees the face of his bride for the first time in (my most traditions) a week, and he lowers the veil over her face (the root of this is the Biblical story of our forefather Jacob, who had arranged to marry the love of his life, the beautiful Rachel, only to have her father “switch” her on the wedding night with her sister Leah, so now we men get the chance to make sure that we’re getting what we’re paying for).
After the Bedeken, the men once again escort the groom – this time with his parents (or sometimes – as in this particular wedding last week – with the 2 fathers) dancing him to the Chuppah (the wedding canopy). All the while the women are singing and dancing around the bride, until the men have finished bringing the groom to his place, and they return to dance the bride to the Chuppah.
{Side note – this is not the case in every wedding. In many traditional weddings the bride and groom are not danced to the Chuppah, but in a much quieter and low-key ceremony simply escorted by their respective parents. This was definitely not one of those “low-key” weddings}
So, back to what made me feel so old, while also making this wedding a thoroughly enjoyable time for someone who doesn’t really know either the bride or the groom.
All these young whippersnappers had spent the last half an hour or so dancing almost non-stop, and it was finally time for the actual wedding ceremony. The Chuppah itself was on a little island in a man-made pond (complete with real fish swimming in it) and one needed to cross a small bridge to get to the Chuppah.
Once they had danced the groom to his rightful, then escorted the bride by dance, they all settled on and near the bridge. The first thing that happens when the bride arrives at the Chuppah is that she circles the groom 7 times, all the while with music playing. I looked over and saw a couple of dozen young adults all hoppin’ and boppin’ to the music, seemingly with no end to their energy.
As the ceremony goes on, after the Rabbi speaks for a little while (he spoke very beautiful and did not drag it out at all), then is the time for the 7 blessings said under the Chuppah, by friends and family members whom the bride and groom wish to honor. After each blessing, it is announced who will recite the next blessing, and while that person is making his way through the throng over the bridge and to the Chuppah, the band is playing, these young adults were up and dancing again. It was absolutely amazing!
Once the ceremony was over, it was time to (what else?) dance the newly married couple to the Yichud Room, which is where the bride and groom are able to enjoy a short amount of time together alone for the first time as husband and wife (usually the time is spent eating and drinking something because a) the bride and groom have been fasting the day of their wedding until after the ceremony and b) almost no couples that I know ever actually get to eat during the wedding meal itself). Once the friends all finish dancing them to the Yichud room and dancing their way back – they take a short break, until the bride and groom come out at which time the dancing starts all over again.
Now is when the serious dancing gets under way. In traditional Jewish weddings the men and women dance separately from one another, so I couldn’t really see the women (although if what I saw earlier was any indication they were going every bit as strong as the men), but on the men’s side it was an unbelievably high level of energy. They were going without resting, without slowing seemingly forever.
It made me feel old because I doubt that even when I was that age, and in much better physical shape, that I could have kept up with these kids. Now, I know that I would last a few minutes at their pace – no more than that.
The beauty of it was this – the bride and groom are very young, and undoubtedly among the first (if not the first) of their circle of friends to get married. As is very common in the religious circles, over the next 3 or 4 years, this same group of friends will gather together for several more weddings – each time involving one (or two) of the kids that were celebrating this wedding last week.
The joy and the love that these kids have for one another, and the absolute pleasure that they all take in celebrating the happiness of their friends is one of the most moving things I could ever hope to witness.
Last week, I posted a blog about the double Bar Mitzvah that we recently attended at the kibbutz of very close friends, and I described (in probably too-much detail) the friendship of this whole circle of friends that I am very blessed to have all living in Israel.
Watching the love, the joy, and the boundless energy and happiness of these young adults at the wedding last week allowed me to see that they have this same blessing of amazing friends that I have been fortunate enough to have.
May the happy couple merit building a faithful house in Israel.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
This is a bit longer than I realized it would be, but it's about a wonderful weekend, and there's a lot to share...
One of the reasons that I believe I have had a successful (and long-lasting) Aliyah (immigration to Israel) is that I have a circle of very close friends all living here as well, most of whom I have known since our wild college days at the University of Maryland, and a few from even earlier than having grown up (as much as I can be accused of having grown up) in the youth movement Young Judaea.
Of course, a significant factor in successfully being absorbed into a society is to be a part of that society, and I believe that I have done this as well, not by any stretch confining myself into an “Anglo-Saxon/English-speakers bubble”, but at the same time, it makes a huge difference to have friends around that have known me for upwards of 30 years (and in some cases more), who know me as well as I could possibly know myself, and somehow have accepted me in spite of it all. There is a real comfort zone in having friendships which are that deep.
What makes it even nicer is that of this circle of dear friends, we are 4 families all living in the city of Modi’in, and 3 of us are active members of the same synagogue. Even more than that – of the other 2 families at the synagogue with us – Revital, my older daughter, is in the same class in school as the son of one of the families, and Limor, my younger one, is in the kindergarten with the daughter of the other one. So our lives are really intertwined on a daily basis.
Of the families not living with us in Modi’in, there are 2 living in Jerusalem, 3 more in Be’er Sheva, and one living on a kibbutz (communal living settlement) near Eilat in the “Deep South” (more like living near Miami than the Arkansas-sense that “deep south” usually implies).
Whenever we get the whole “gang” together, it’s almost like a family reunion (even more so for some, in that there are a couple of sets of siblings within the circle, including my wife’s sister and her family), and we always have an amazing time. We get together annually for Israeli Independence Day and every now and then there’s some celebration or even that brings us all together.
That whole long-winded intro brings me to this past weekend. The family living on Kibbutz Ketura in the south (the “rednecks” of our circle) celebrated the double Bar Mitzvah of their twin sons, so we all converged on the kibbutz to share in the event.
{Momentary tangent for explanatory background}
If you don’t know much about kibbutz: in theory, the kibbutz was intended as a socialist lifestyle – in which every member gave to the kibbutz what they could and received from the kibbutz what they needed. A work schedule would be drawn up covering all of the necessary jobs on the kibbutz – such as the farming and industry which brought money into the kibbutz, and the jobs within the kibbutz like child-care, laundry and kitchen/dining room that kept the day-to-day life running, and other jobs like gardening and electrical work necessary for the upkeep of the kibbutz.
Meals were communal in the dining hall, decisions were made collectively by the membership, and the kibbutz was essentially one homogenous unit made up of individuals that together were even greater than the sum of their parts. In short, it was a socialist utopia (for those who like that kind of thing).
Recently, most of the kibbutzim in Israel have undergone privatization. More people are working outside of the kibbutzim, and many kibbutzim have instituted a system by which members earn a salary based on the work they do. From a western capitalist point of view, this makes sense, but it seems to me that something very uniquely Israeli (and very pioneeringly hippie-ish) has been lost with the modernization and privatization of the kibbutzim.
Kibbutz Keturah (where this story takes place) is one of the very few kibbutzim in the country that has not gone through the privatization and modernization process. The atmosphere on the kibbutz is the same as it has always been a very close-knit community in which everybody there feels that the bigger picture of that community is their home and therefore their responsibility.
{End of tangent and back to our regularly scheduled Rambling…}
We got to the kibbutz on Friday afternoon, and immediately we were in “Super-Close-Knit-Circle-Of-Friends-Reunion mode”. What is especially wonderful about this group we have isn’t only that we are all so close to one another, but that the kids also feel close to the other kids and completely at ease with the adults.
The plan was for most of us to “camp out” in one of the Children’s Houses (actually now a club house/meeting house for the teenagers on the kibbutz), but since it was still being used when we got there we were all hanging out for a bit at the home of our host family for a bit.
Eventually, the teens finished their activity, and we set up mattresses all over the floors of the 3 main rooms and getting the kids and ourselves showered and ready for the evening. It was funny – we were 6 families (consisting of 14 kids) all sleeping on mattresses and couches around this Kids House. And something about the informality of that with some of your closest friends is actually very special.
Another sort-of tangent (although hopefully relevant)…
Kibbutz Keturah is associated with the Conservative Judaism movement. Without going into the ins and outs of what that means, and where I stand on religious issues and religious identity, I will say that while I respect the kibbutz and the Conservative movement, I am personally not so comfortable in some of the religious activities done according to Conservative tradition.
This was particularly relevant with the Shabbat services. To avoid being in an awkward situation for me, I went to the synagogue on my own before the kibbutz services and prayed on my own the services welcoming the Shabbat and the evening prayers. I could still sit in the synagogue and listen to the services without being in a prayer situation in which I wasn’t at ease.
After dinner in the communal dining hall, we gathered in front of the house of the Bar Mitzvah family and just “hung out” until one by one people started dropping off to bed. It was wonderful – our own circle was there, other family members of the Bar Mitzvah family whom we all know – grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc. and members of the kibbutz. There was a lot of food and drink – all of it delicious, none of it healthy. I think I consumed about 2 years worth of my calorie allowance in that one evening. All the kids were having a great time playing on the grass, the temperature was ideal (the desert is hot as hell during the daytime, but at night vacillates between absolutely perfect and slightly chilly), and the whole atmosphere was wonderful.
Saturday morning, the Bar Mitzvah services were very nice (again, I had gotten up early and prayed on my own) and sat in the synagogue to hear the Bar Mitzvah boys do their thing, to hear the very lovely talks made by members of the kibbutz and family members of the boys.
One thing that particularly stood out for me was when the boys gave their talk (together). At pretty much every Bar and Bat Mitzvah which I attend, when the child gets up and talks (usually about the weekly Torah portion which was read that morning), the talk always feels very “canned” – the kids are reading the speech, usually looking at the printed paper in front of them. This is completely understandable, and when it happens (which is most of the time), I don’t fault the kids at all. They are young, they are nervous, and a Bar / Bat Mitzvah is more often than not the first time a child has ever had to address a group of people larger and older than his or her classmates.
These boys were different. They were really talking to the congregation. Communication their thoughts while seeming to feel very natural and comfortable in doing it. It was a real pleasure to listen to them and see their poise.
Without going into too many details, the rest of Shabbat went by pretty quickly and it was very lovely. We ate lunch, we rested, we chatted, some people hung out at the pool, and so on. At one point in the afternoon, I was hanging out with three of the friends in the “gang”, one of whom the mother of the Bar Mitzvah boys, and she mentioned to us that her kids have always referred to this circle of friends we have as “the almost-family”. I liked that – that really spoke to me and said it all.
After Shabbat ended (also a lovely short service which the Bar Mitzvah boys led in front of their house), we had dinner and then was the big party. When I say party, I actually mean it was like a variety show. Various and sundry skits, songs and small speeches, none of which dragged on too long and everybody seemed to enjoy. The whole evening was emceed by the two brothers (one older and one younger) of the Bar Mitzvah boys.
I had the opportunity to be in a couple of the skits (Shock! Surprise! Amazement!). One was together with a friend doing Bill Cosby’s famous “Noah” skit which he had printed up before the weekend. It was especially appropriate in that the weekly Torah read this past week was the portion/story of Noah. I was also asked to “host” a “Whose Line Is It Anyway” type of game (actually we called it “Whose Bar Mitzvah Is It Anyway”) in which we had 2 games – “Props”, which had each of the Bar Mitzvah boys with one of their parents, and “Party Quirks” which had the Bar Mitzvah boys hosting the party and having to figure out the traits of their very unusual party guests.
The most beautiful – and most touching point of the evening came when in the middle of the big party and celebration for them, the Bar Mitzvah twins got up to wish and sing Happy Birthday to one of their friends on the kibbutz who happened to have a birthday that day. I thought that this spoke volumes of the character and the class that these boys have, and said just as much about the values and perspective that their parents are raising them to have.
The party ended around 9:30, and the trek home started. It wasn’t bad- we were home before 1:00am, and managed somehow to get ourselves – and the girls up the next morning.
This past Shabbat will always be remembered as one of the nicest I’ve spent, and I am eternally grateful to the friends and family and “almost-family” that made it the special time that it was.
Of course, a significant factor in successfully being absorbed into a society is to be a part of that society, and I believe that I have done this as well, not by any stretch confining myself into an “Anglo-Saxon/English-speakers bubble”, but at the same time, it makes a huge difference to have friends around that have known me for upwards of 30 years (and in some cases more), who know me as well as I could possibly know myself, and somehow have accepted me in spite of it all. There is a real comfort zone in having friendships which are that deep.
What makes it even nicer is that of this circle of dear friends, we are 4 families all living in the city of Modi’in, and 3 of us are active members of the same synagogue. Even more than that – of the other 2 families at the synagogue with us – Revital, my older daughter, is in the same class in school as the son of one of the families, and Limor, my younger one, is in the kindergarten with the daughter of the other one. So our lives are really intertwined on a daily basis.
Of the families not living with us in Modi’in, there are 2 living in Jerusalem, 3 more in Be’er Sheva, and one living on a kibbutz (communal living settlement) near Eilat in the “Deep South” (more like living near Miami than the Arkansas-sense that “deep south” usually implies).
Whenever we get the whole “gang” together, it’s almost like a family reunion (even more so for some, in that there are a couple of sets of siblings within the circle, including my wife’s sister and her family), and we always have an amazing time. We get together annually for Israeli Independence Day and every now and then there’s some celebration or even that brings us all together.
That whole long-winded intro brings me to this past weekend. The family living on Kibbutz Ketura in the south (the “rednecks” of our circle) celebrated the double Bar Mitzvah of their twin sons, so we all converged on the kibbutz to share in the event.
{Momentary tangent for explanatory background}
If you don’t know much about kibbutz: in theory, the kibbutz was intended as a socialist lifestyle – in which every member gave to the kibbutz what they could and received from the kibbutz what they needed. A work schedule would be drawn up covering all of the necessary jobs on the kibbutz – such as the farming and industry which brought money into the kibbutz, and the jobs within the kibbutz like child-care, laundry and kitchen/dining room that kept the day-to-day life running, and other jobs like gardening and electrical work necessary for the upkeep of the kibbutz.
Meals were communal in the dining hall, decisions were made collectively by the membership, and the kibbutz was essentially one homogenous unit made up of individuals that together were even greater than the sum of their parts. In short, it was a socialist utopia (for those who like that kind of thing).
Recently, most of the kibbutzim in Israel have undergone privatization. More people are working outside of the kibbutzim, and many kibbutzim have instituted a system by which members earn a salary based on the work they do. From a western capitalist point of view, this makes sense, but it seems to me that something very uniquely Israeli (and very pioneeringly hippie-ish) has been lost with the modernization and privatization of the kibbutzim.
Kibbutz Keturah (where this story takes place) is one of the very few kibbutzim in the country that has not gone through the privatization and modernization process. The atmosphere on the kibbutz is the same as it has always been a very close-knit community in which everybody there feels that the bigger picture of that community is their home and therefore their responsibility.
{End of tangent and back to our regularly scheduled Rambling…}
We got to the kibbutz on Friday afternoon, and immediately we were in “Super-Close-Knit-Circle-Of-Friends-Reunion mode”. What is especially wonderful about this group we have isn’t only that we are all so close to one another, but that the kids also feel close to the other kids and completely at ease with the adults.
The plan was for most of us to “camp out” in one of the Children’s Houses (actually now a club house/meeting house for the teenagers on the kibbutz), but since it was still being used when we got there we were all hanging out for a bit at the home of our host family for a bit.
Eventually, the teens finished their activity, and we set up mattresses all over the floors of the 3 main rooms and getting the kids and ourselves showered and ready for the evening. It was funny – we were 6 families (consisting of 14 kids) all sleeping on mattresses and couches around this Kids House. And something about the informality of that with some of your closest friends is actually very special.
Another sort-of tangent (although hopefully relevant)…
Kibbutz Keturah is associated with the Conservative Judaism movement. Without going into the ins and outs of what that means, and where I stand on religious issues and religious identity, I will say that while I respect the kibbutz and the Conservative movement, I am personally not so comfortable in some of the religious activities done according to Conservative tradition.
This was particularly relevant with the Shabbat services. To avoid being in an awkward situation for me, I went to the synagogue on my own before the kibbutz services and prayed on my own the services welcoming the Shabbat and the evening prayers. I could still sit in the synagogue and listen to the services without being in a prayer situation in which I wasn’t at ease.
After dinner in the communal dining hall, we gathered in front of the house of the Bar Mitzvah family and just “hung out” until one by one people started dropping off to bed. It was wonderful – our own circle was there, other family members of the Bar Mitzvah family whom we all know – grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc. and members of the kibbutz. There was a lot of food and drink – all of it delicious, none of it healthy. I think I consumed about 2 years worth of my calorie allowance in that one evening. All the kids were having a great time playing on the grass, the temperature was ideal (the desert is hot as hell during the daytime, but at night vacillates between absolutely perfect and slightly chilly), and the whole atmosphere was wonderful.
Saturday morning, the Bar Mitzvah services were very nice (again, I had gotten up early and prayed on my own) and sat in the synagogue to hear the Bar Mitzvah boys do their thing, to hear the very lovely talks made by members of the kibbutz and family members of the boys.
One thing that particularly stood out for me was when the boys gave their talk (together). At pretty much every Bar and Bat Mitzvah which I attend, when the child gets up and talks (usually about the weekly Torah portion which was read that morning), the talk always feels very “canned” – the kids are reading the speech, usually looking at the printed paper in front of them. This is completely understandable, and when it happens (which is most of the time), I don’t fault the kids at all. They are young, they are nervous, and a Bar / Bat Mitzvah is more often than not the first time a child has ever had to address a group of people larger and older than his or her classmates.
These boys were different. They were really talking to the congregation. Communication their thoughts while seeming to feel very natural and comfortable in doing it. It was a real pleasure to listen to them and see their poise.
Without going into too many details, the rest of Shabbat went by pretty quickly and it was very lovely. We ate lunch, we rested, we chatted, some people hung out at the pool, and so on. At one point in the afternoon, I was hanging out with three of the friends in the “gang”, one of whom the mother of the Bar Mitzvah boys, and she mentioned to us that her kids have always referred to this circle of friends we have as “the almost-family”. I liked that – that really spoke to me and said it all.
After Shabbat ended (also a lovely short service which the Bar Mitzvah boys led in front of their house), we had dinner and then was the big party. When I say party, I actually mean it was like a variety show. Various and sundry skits, songs and small speeches, none of which dragged on too long and everybody seemed to enjoy. The whole evening was emceed by the two brothers (one older and one younger) of the Bar Mitzvah boys.
I had the opportunity to be in a couple of the skits (Shock! Surprise! Amazement!). One was together with a friend doing Bill Cosby’s famous “Noah” skit which he had printed up before the weekend. It was especially appropriate in that the weekly Torah read this past week was the portion/story of Noah. I was also asked to “host” a “Whose Line Is It Anyway” type of game (actually we called it “Whose Bar Mitzvah Is It Anyway”) in which we had 2 games – “Props”, which had each of the Bar Mitzvah boys with one of their parents, and “Party Quirks” which had the Bar Mitzvah boys hosting the party and having to figure out the traits of their very unusual party guests.
The most beautiful – and most touching point of the evening came when in the middle of the big party and celebration for them, the Bar Mitzvah twins got up to wish and sing Happy Birthday to one of their friends on the kibbutz who happened to have a birthday that day. I thought that this spoke volumes of the character and the class that these boys have, and said just as much about the values and perspective that their parents are raising them to have.
The party ended around 9:30, and the trek home started. It wasn’t bad- we were home before 1:00am, and managed somehow to get ourselves – and the girls up the next morning.
This past Shabbat will always be remembered as one of the nicest I’ve spent, and I am eternally grateful to the friends and family and “almost-family” that made it the special time that it was.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
The never-ending holidays
It's funny. You don't need a calendar to know what the next holiday is – even if it's several months off. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the end of the holiday season – how it's a very intense period, but very powerful. And long. After 3 weeks of holiday followed by Shabbat (the Sabbath) followed by another holiday, then another Shabbat, and so on and so on, there is a lot to be said for getting back into a routine of "normalcy", of consistent schedule, and day-to-day-life.
But apparently that is simply not to be.
I was in the mall here today, and I saw in 2 bakeries and the supermarket sufganiyot, the donuts associated with Chanukah. Now – Chanukah begins in the final week of the Hebrew month of Kislev, and we are right now at the very beginning of the month of Cheshvan. We are 6 1/2 weeks away from Chanukah, and we haven't yet worked off any of the jazillion calories that we took in during the holidays last month. So why the hell do we already need to start in on the food that really has nothing to do with this particular time of year? Can't we have some "down time" first?
When I posted a status update on Facebook about this earlier, one of my friends in the States mentioned that it's the same thing happening there – that some stores have already started in on the Christmas push – a full 2 1/2 months before the holiday. I remember that being the case from my "previous life" growing up in America (inasmuch as one could say that I have "grown up" at all), but being Jewish, and not celebrating Christmas, I didn't really relate to or feel the early holiday push there.
Here I do feel it.
In America, I have a feeling that it is pretty widely understood that the early sales and marketing ploys for the holidays are done solely for commercial factors. This makes a lot of sense, but since I don't really know the American / Christian holidays so well, and since I have lived in Israel for 23 years, I won't presume to really know anything about it.
In Israel, however, I wonder if perhaps beyond the commercial considerations, the rush to start "setting the atmosphere" of whatever the next holiday is (in this case Chanukah), is rooted in psychological reasons as well.
All of the Jewish holidays are chock-full of historical and theological relevance. Even most of the "secular" Israelis feel some connection to the renewal of the New Year and the Book of Life being "signed, sealed delivered" on Yom Kippur. Most Israelis love celebrating Chanukah. The idea of God miraculously enabling the under-manned, under-trained, under-armed Jewish army of the Maccabees to defeat the all-powerful Greek Empire in battle strikes a note of pride in even the most secular Israelis, most of whom have lived through some of Israel's wars in which the odds against us seemed no better than that of the Maccabees against the Greeks.
A couple of months after Chanukah is the holiday of Purim – also celebrating the Jewish people being delivered against all odds certain annihilation – this time in Persia sometime around the 4th – 5th century BCE. As with Chanukah, the historical touches a chord for most Israelis – whether religious or secular, and there are very few Israelis that do not partake in the revelry and dressing-up which is part of the modern-day celebration.
Exactly one month after Purim is Passover – celebrating freedom and delivery from slavery in Egypt. The vast majority of Israelis – whether religious or secular – participate in the traditional Passover meal – the Seder. The story of Passover and the idea of freedom from slavery is another one of those themes that speaks to almost all of us – no matter our level of religious observance.
After Passover is the one holiday that is not necessarily "religious" in nature, which is the Israeli Independence Day – although there are many folks who see definite signs of the hand of God in this as well (and again – the odds against the fledgling Israeli army upon declaring Independence in 1948 was no better than those facing the Maccabees in the story of Chanukah), and after Independence Day is Shavuoth (Pentecost) which commemorates the Children of Israel receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. Many of the traditions connected with this holiday are also not relegated to the "religious" community in Israel.
When you think about it, it's pretty amazing how much of the holiday traditions, observances and associations are treasured by the gamut of Israelis. The holidays permeate the society here, and it is not all uncommon to hear secular Israelis wishing one another happy holidays when the holidays are upon us.
Which brings me back to the prevalence of sufganiyot in the stores and bakeries just a week and a half after the High Holy Day season ended.
It isn't the same as in America – where there is an underlying commercialism (and maybe not so underlying). There isn't a "sufganiyot industry" making money off of the early sale of the calorie-laden donuts. Contrary to what Chanukah has become in America, here it isn't really about buying presents every night for the kids, so that's also not behind the early switch into Chanukah-Mode.
Rather, I think it's that the holidays are so much a part of our National identity – the historical messages are still alive and well for Israelis in the 21st century. We recognize the fact that the Jewish people and the State of Israel still exist when logically, as a people we should have been wiped out centuries ago, and the modern State logically should never have come into being – much less thrive as it has. Some attribute this to an all-powerful being while others say it is fate, karma, or plain dumb luck – but that doesn't change the reality or the cause for celebration.
In a lot of ways, it's these realizations that define us as a people, to the point where once one holiday is behind us, we almost have to start looking towards the next one. Whatever the holiday is, it is a reminder of who we are as a people, and what we have survived in order to be such.
But apparently that is simply not to be.
I was in the mall here today, and I saw in 2 bakeries and the supermarket sufganiyot, the donuts associated with Chanukah. Now – Chanukah begins in the final week of the Hebrew month of Kislev, and we are right now at the very beginning of the month of Cheshvan. We are 6 1/2 weeks away from Chanukah, and we haven't yet worked off any of the jazillion calories that we took in during the holidays last month. So why the hell do we already need to start in on the food that really has nothing to do with this particular time of year? Can't we have some "down time" first?
When I posted a status update on Facebook about this earlier, one of my friends in the States mentioned that it's the same thing happening there – that some stores have already started in on the Christmas push – a full 2 1/2 months before the holiday. I remember that being the case from my "previous life" growing up in America (inasmuch as one could say that I have "grown up" at all), but being Jewish, and not celebrating Christmas, I didn't really relate to or feel the early holiday push there.
Here I do feel it.
In America, I have a feeling that it is pretty widely understood that the early sales and marketing ploys for the holidays are done solely for commercial factors. This makes a lot of sense, but since I don't really know the American / Christian holidays so well, and since I have lived in Israel for 23 years, I won't presume to really know anything about it.
In Israel, however, I wonder if perhaps beyond the commercial considerations, the rush to start "setting the atmosphere" of whatever the next holiday is (in this case Chanukah), is rooted in psychological reasons as well.
All of the Jewish holidays are chock-full of historical and theological relevance. Even most of the "secular" Israelis feel some connection to the renewal of the New Year and the Book of Life being "signed, sealed delivered" on Yom Kippur. Most Israelis love celebrating Chanukah. The idea of God miraculously enabling the under-manned, under-trained, under-armed Jewish army of the Maccabees to defeat the all-powerful Greek Empire in battle strikes a note of pride in even the most secular Israelis, most of whom have lived through some of Israel's wars in which the odds against us seemed no better than that of the Maccabees against the Greeks.
A couple of months after Chanukah is the holiday of Purim – also celebrating the Jewish people being delivered against all odds certain annihilation – this time in Persia sometime around the 4th – 5th century BCE. As with Chanukah, the historical touches a chord for most Israelis – whether religious or secular, and there are very few Israelis that do not partake in the revelry and dressing-up which is part of the modern-day celebration.
Exactly one month after Purim is Passover – celebrating freedom and delivery from slavery in Egypt. The vast majority of Israelis – whether religious or secular – participate in the traditional Passover meal – the Seder. The story of Passover and the idea of freedom from slavery is another one of those themes that speaks to almost all of us – no matter our level of religious observance.
After Passover is the one holiday that is not necessarily "religious" in nature, which is the Israeli Independence Day – although there are many folks who see definite signs of the hand of God in this as well (and again – the odds against the fledgling Israeli army upon declaring Independence in 1948 was no better than those facing the Maccabees in the story of Chanukah), and after Independence Day is Shavuoth (Pentecost) which commemorates the Children of Israel receiving the Torah at Mount Sinai. Many of the traditions connected with this holiday are also not relegated to the "religious" community in Israel.
When you think about it, it's pretty amazing how much of the holiday traditions, observances and associations are treasured by the gamut of Israelis. The holidays permeate the society here, and it is not all uncommon to hear secular Israelis wishing one another happy holidays when the holidays are upon us.
Which brings me back to the prevalence of sufganiyot in the stores and bakeries just a week and a half after the High Holy Day season ended.
It isn't the same as in America – where there is an underlying commercialism (and maybe not so underlying). There isn't a "sufganiyot industry" making money off of the early sale of the calorie-laden donuts. Contrary to what Chanukah has become in America, here it isn't really about buying presents every night for the kids, so that's also not behind the early switch into Chanukah-Mode.
Rather, I think it's that the holidays are so much a part of our National identity – the historical messages are still alive and well for Israelis in the 21st century. We recognize the fact that the Jewish people and the State of Israel still exist when logically, as a people we should have been wiped out centuries ago, and the modern State logically should never have come into being – much less thrive as it has. Some attribute this to an all-powerful being while others say it is fate, karma, or plain dumb luck – but that doesn't change the reality or the cause for celebration.
In a lot of ways, it's these realizations that define us as a people, to the point where once one holiday is behind us, we almost have to start looking towards the next one. Whatever the holiday is, it is a reminder of who we are as a people, and what we have survived in order to be such.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
How the hell did we get here? More important - how can we get out?
So, I saw an article online on Yahoo News today. And my initial reaction to it was both shock and anger. Afterwards, it changed to very very sad. Here's the link for anyone who wants to read it, but I'll give a brief overview for those who'd just as soon not.
There is a small county in north western Tennessee called Obion County, where residents are required to pay an annual $75 fee for the fire protection services from nearby Fulton County. The home of a man who had not paid the fee caught on fire, and the fire department refused to come put it out – even though he offered to pay all of the expenses necessary to save his home (which I have no doubt would have been a lot more than $75!). They still refused.
However, when the man's neighbor called because he was afraid the fire would spread to his property as well, the fire department came out. Apparently he had paid his $75 for the year. When they arrived, the neighbor's house was not yet in danger, so the fire fighters (and I use this term very loosely) – are you ready for this? – sat and watched the fire, jumping into action only when the fire really did threaten to spread to the neighbor's home. In the meantime, the house where the fire started burned to the ground.
Without going into (at least not here and now) the issues of having to pay a fee for services from a Fire Department, on the surface, I can see the rationale behind it. Maintaining a fire department is very costly, and an annual fee that comes out to $6.25 per month is not an unreasonable amount to ask of people in order to maintain the fire department.
And – logically, I can even understand the rationale behind their saying that they won't come out because the guy technically is not one of their clients.
This one's tougher case to make than the fee itself, and made even harder by the fact that the guy was willing to pay – not the $75 annual fee on the spot, but whatever the expenses would have been to save his home.
But again – he's not one of their customers.
But that's what made me so angry; that the money became the most important factor for this fire department. It's not as though $75 is such a huge amount of money. At the current minimum wage in America, $75 is less than 10 1/2 hours of work. So standing on the "principle" of not being ready to help save a man's home and possessions over a paltry sum of money seems beyond ridiculous. And even if you could justify it logically (which I don't for a second believe that you can) by saying that since he didn't pay, they had no reason to go out of their way to help him, what about when they were there anyway – with all of the necessary equipment for putting out the fire – and they still stood on their so-called "principle" of this guy not being their "client"?
Completely inexcusable.
What turned my anger to such sadness was reading the comments posted by readers to this article. So many of them looked at the whole episode purely from a point of dollars and cents. One person wrote "He didn't pay – what did he expect?", another one called the guy a "freeloader" that got "burnt for his cheapness". I could go on for pages upon pages of the comments along those lines, but you get the point.
Where do we draw the line between looking at people as "customers" instead of our fellow human beings? To stand by and watch a mans' entire world go up in flames – and to purposely not lift a finger to help because he didn't pay you the equivalent of what a 15 year-old kid earns for one shift working at McDonalds???
Many restaurants and stores have a policy that only customers can use their restrooms. I understand the reasoning behind this – and in most cases I don't have a problem with it. But if I'm walking with my 2 young daughters, and one of them suddenly needs to go the bathroom urgently and simply cannot hold it in – if the place of business refuses to let us in because we aren't actually customers of theirs – are they "standing within their rights and their policy" or are they letting a technicality drain them of their basic humanity?
And that's where I think the crux of this whole issue lies. It's not really about the money. The fire department demonstrated that when they wouldn't come in spite of the guy offering to pay whatever the expenses. The real issue is about such a strict adherence to "policy" and "procedure" that all too often we lose sight of what those policies and procedures are (or should be) there for – which is to help people. To make the world a slightly better place than it was when we came into it. To use the ever-developing technological and scientific advancements being discovered for the good of mankind. Not to help us define and re-define rules that cannot under any circumstances be bent, much less actually broken.
The number of comments in the article which supported the fire department made me want to cry. I love it when we see an article like this – with what seems to me a very clear case of man's inhumanity to man, and the outrage is unanimous – the heartless bastard in the middle of the whole thing is basically turned into an outcast and pariah by everybody. That is didn't happen in this incident is much more serious and disheartening than the incident itself.
So the guy didn't pay his $75. So what?!?!?!? For that he loses the status of a human being deserving of compassion, love and understanding?
God help us all if this is how low we as a race have sunk.
There is a small county in north western Tennessee called Obion County, where residents are required to pay an annual $75 fee for the fire protection services from nearby Fulton County. The home of a man who had not paid the fee caught on fire, and the fire department refused to come put it out – even though he offered to pay all of the expenses necessary to save his home (which I have no doubt would have been a lot more than $75!). They still refused.
However, when the man's neighbor called because he was afraid the fire would spread to his property as well, the fire department came out. Apparently he had paid his $75 for the year. When they arrived, the neighbor's house was not yet in danger, so the fire fighters (and I use this term very loosely) – are you ready for this? – sat and watched the fire, jumping into action only when the fire really did threaten to spread to the neighbor's home. In the meantime, the house where the fire started burned to the ground.
Without going into (at least not here and now) the issues of having to pay a fee for services from a Fire Department, on the surface, I can see the rationale behind it. Maintaining a fire department is very costly, and an annual fee that comes out to $6.25 per month is not an unreasonable amount to ask of people in order to maintain the fire department.
And – logically, I can even understand the rationale behind their saying that they won't come out because the guy technically is not one of their clients.
This one's tougher case to make than the fee itself, and made even harder by the fact that the guy was willing to pay – not the $75 annual fee on the spot, but whatever the expenses would have been to save his home.
But again – he's not one of their customers.
But that's what made me so angry; that the money became the most important factor for this fire department. It's not as though $75 is such a huge amount of money. At the current minimum wage in America, $75 is less than 10 1/2 hours of work. So standing on the "principle" of not being ready to help save a man's home and possessions over a paltry sum of money seems beyond ridiculous. And even if you could justify it logically (which I don't for a second believe that you can) by saying that since he didn't pay, they had no reason to go out of their way to help him, what about when they were there anyway – with all of the necessary equipment for putting out the fire – and they still stood on their so-called "principle" of this guy not being their "client"?
Completely inexcusable.
What turned my anger to such sadness was reading the comments posted by readers to this article. So many of them looked at the whole episode purely from a point of dollars and cents. One person wrote "He didn't pay – what did he expect?", another one called the guy a "freeloader" that got "burnt for his cheapness". I could go on for pages upon pages of the comments along those lines, but you get the point.
Where do we draw the line between looking at people as "customers" instead of our fellow human beings? To stand by and watch a mans' entire world go up in flames – and to purposely not lift a finger to help because he didn't pay you the equivalent of what a 15 year-old kid earns for one shift working at McDonalds???
Many restaurants and stores have a policy that only customers can use their restrooms. I understand the reasoning behind this – and in most cases I don't have a problem with it. But if I'm walking with my 2 young daughters, and one of them suddenly needs to go the bathroom urgently and simply cannot hold it in – if the place of business refuses to let us in because we aren't actually customers of theirs – are they "standing within their rights and their policy" or are they letting a technicality drain them of their basic humanity?
And that's where I think the crux of this whole issue lies. It's not really about the money. The fire department demonstrated that when they wouldn't come in spite of the guy offering to pay whatever the expenses. The real issue is about such a strict adherence to "policy" and "procedure" that all too often we lose sight of what those policies and procedures are (or should be) there for – which is to help people. To make the world a slightly better place than it was when we came into it. To use the ever-developing technological and scientific advancements being discovered for the good of mankind. Not to help us define and re-define rules that cannot under any circumstances be bent, much less actually broken.
The number of comments in the article which supported the fire department made me want to cry. I love it when we see an article like this – with what seems to me a very clear case of man's inhumanity to man, and the outrage is unanimous – the heartless bastard in the middle of the whole thing is basically turned into an outcast and pariah by everybody. That is didn't happen in this incident is much more serious and disheartening than the incident itself.
So the guy didn't pay his $75. So what?!?!?!? For that he loses the status of a human being deserving of compassion, love and understanding?
God help us all if this is how low we as a race have sunk.
Monday, October 4, 2010
How much of ourselves do we really see?
I can never seem to get why there is such a huge gap between how I see myself and how others apparently see me. And the funny (as in “weird”) part is that it seems to be very inconsistent.
In many instances where I see myself with a more negative eye, I’m told by others that they see me much more positively. And then when I occasionally (this doesn’t happen as often) see myself in a way that I like to think that I am, or that I strive to be, it turns out that others don’t see me so nicely.
A perfect example is my physical appearance.
{Commercial break for an important disclaimer continue with this thought: This is NOT – in any way shape or form, an attempt to get anybody to try top put me at ease and tell me that I look fine. Really. Honestly!
I appreciate the sentiment, but the point here is that we are not necessarily talking about reality, but rather perception. What I am sharing here is my perception – and I am not looking for or in need of comfort or reassurance.
End Public Service announcement.}
Welcome back.
As I was saying – when I look in the mirror (which I try not to do too often), I see an overweight, balding middle-aged guy.
Now, it’s hard to dispute “overweight”, because it’s pretty obvious (granted, I am convinced that I hide my weight well enough that, while agreeing that I am heavy-set, most people do under-guess my weight my a good 20 pounds, sometimes more).
It’s even harder to dispute the “balding” part – it’s there and it’s real.
Even allowing for all of that though, I have never (and this goes back to my childhood) really liked what I see. I’m told that I have nice eyes, and I suppose that I can accept that, but other than that, I see a face that is – for lack of better description – very plain. Nothing particularly unattractive – but nothing that really stands out either. In short, of all of the faces a person could see, mine is definitely one of them.
In some ways (again – NOT a call for reassurance), my reality has always supported this. I was never one of those guys that women turn to take an extra look at, never one of the guys that women flirt with or hit on. This isn’t a complaint, but simply a recognition and acceptance of reality. In many ways, it’s the preferable reality. Although sometimes, I can really relate to what Radar O’Reilly once said on M*A*S*H - “I’m tired of being an object of ridicule. I wanna be a figure of fear, respect, and SEX”
For me, I have always felt that whatever shortcomings I have in physical appearance I have been able to make up for with a very warped (but fun) sense of humor, and basically being a good person and a good friend.
Recently, I found out that in high school and college, there were one or two women that apparently had crushes on me. This blows me away. I seriously had no clue, and would never have thought it. Apparently they saw me in a different way than I saw myself, and I had no idea. If I had, who knows what might have happened?
Then, on the flip side – there are times that I see something good in myself, and I find out that some folks simply don’t see that at all, or even worse, they see the same thing in me in a very negative light.
This recently happened, and I may have lost a good friend as a result. I can’t really go into details for various reasons, but apparently someone who I had felt very close to and comfortable with felt that my friendship was conditional on various things. The truth is that the only condition I put on my friendship is trust, honesty and respect. I feel very hurt that where I thought I had these, I may have been terribly mistaken. This is especially a blow because I always like to think that I’m good judge of character. Hopefully, I’ll find that my original understanding was correct and that right now we are having a misunderstanding that we can work through and put behind us. We’ll see.
I have a feeling that the whole episode, which is very troubling is probably what inspired the thoughts that I'm pouring out here...
Anyway – I guess this is the first blog that actually fits the name of my blog – I’ve been just rambling. The whole idea has been on my mind a lot lately – this whole question of how we see ourselves in relation to a) how others see us and b) how we really are. And is “how we really are” objective or subjective. I’m not sure I know. And I’m not sure if it really matters.
In many instances where I see myself with a more negative eye, I’m told by others that they see me much more positively. And then when I occasionally (this doesn’t happen as often) see myself in a way that I like to think that I am, or that I strive to be, it turns out that others don’t see me so nicely.
A perfect example is my physical appearance.
{Commercial break for an important disclaimer continue with this thought: This is NOT – in any way shape or form, an attempt to get anybody to try top put me at ease and tell me that I look fine. Really. Honestly!
I appreciate the sentiment, but the point here is that we are not necessarily talking about reality, but rather perception. What I am sharing here is my perception – and I am not looking for or in need of comfort or reassurance.
End Public Service announcement.}
Welcome back.
As I was saying – when I look in the mirror (which I try not to do too often), I see an overweight, balding middle-aged guy.
Now, it’s hard to dispute “overweight”, because it’s pretty obvious (granted, I am convinced that I hide my weight well enough that, while agreeing that I am heavy-set, most people do under-guess my weight my a good 20 pounds, sometimes more).
It’s even harder to dispute the “balding” part – it’s there and it’s real.
Even allowing for all of that though, I have never (and this goes back to my childhood) really liked what I see. I’m told that I have nice eyes, and I suppose that I can accept that, but other than that, I see a face that is – for lack of better description – very plain. Nothing particularly unattractive – but nothing that really stands out either. In short, of all of the faces a person could see, mine is definitely one of them.
In some ways (again – NOT a call for reassurance), my reality has always supported this. I was never one of those guys that women turn to take an extra look at, never one of the guys that women flirt with or hit on. This isn’t a complaint, but simply a recognition and acceptance of reality. In many ways, it’s the preferable reality. Although sometimes, I can really relate to what Radar O’Reilly once said on M*A*S*H - “I’m tired of being an object of ridicule. I wanna be a figure of fear, respect, and SEX”
For me, I have always felt that whatever shortcomings I have in physical appearance I have been able to make up for with a very warped (but fun) sense of humor, and basically being a good person and a good friend.
Recently, I found out that in high school and college, there were one or two women that apparently had crushes on me. This blows me away. I seriously had no clue, and would never have thought it. Apparently they saw me in a different way than I saw myself, and I had no idea. If I had, who knows what might have happened?
Then, on the flip side – there are times that I see something good in myself, and I find out that some folks simply don’t see that at all, or even worse, they see the same thing in me in a very negative light.
This recently happened, and I may have lost a good friend as a result. I can’t really go into details for various reasons, but apparently someone who I had felt very close to and comfortable with felt that my friendship was conditional on various things. The truth is that the only condition I put on my friendship is trust, honesty and respect. I feel very hurt that where I thought I had these, I may have been terribly mistaken. This is especially a blow because I always like to think that I’m good judge of character. Hopefully, I’ll find that my original understanding was correct and that right now we are having a misunderstanding that we can work through and put behind us. We’ll see.
I have a feeling that the whole episode, which is very troubling is probably what inspired the thoughts that I'm pouring out here...
Anyway – I guess this is the first blog that actually fits the name of my blog – I’ve been just rambling. The whole idea has been on my mind a lot lately – this whole question of how we see ourselves in relation to a) how others see us and b) how we really are. And is “how we really are” objective or subjective. I’m not sure I know. And I’m not sure if it really matters.
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