I was sort of half-listening to the Ellen DeGeneres Show last week, when I overheard a segment called "Hunk in a Box". This caught me by surprise, so I started paying attention. The women in the studio audience (which seem to make up about 99.7% of Ellen's audience) were on their feet cheering wildly at a very large box which apparently contained a "hunk". The box opened and there was a guy wearing a tank top shirt and tight exercise shorts (if it hadn't been for the half a foot more height, 30 pounds less weight, 15 fewer years, the handsome face, and head full of hair, this guy could have been my twin!) When he did a few deep knee bends, the women again went wild.
I understood that it was in good fun, and I found out afterwards that it this segment was to raise money for disaster relief in Japan, which obviously I applaud. But I couldn't help wondering, what if Jay Leno, or Conan, or Letterman, or any of the other male talk show hosts had a "Hot Babe in a Box" segment? Even were it to raise charity for an extremely worthy cause, wouldn't many feminist groups, equal rights organizations and other PC-sensitive individuals be all over them for sexism?
Hopefully they would be, and rightfully so.
So, I started thinking about reverse sexism and double standards in our society. And since I really hadn't come to any firm conclusions on the subject, I posted the question in one of my Facebook groups. Two of the women in the group and I got into a bit of a discussion, and I understood their point of view, and was fascinated by their take, but it left me feeling even more uncomfortable than the segment on Ellen made me feel to begin with.
Essentially what these friends said (if either of you is reading this, I hope that I am accurately representing your views, and if not, please let me know in the comments section below) was that given the history of sexism and objectification of women over the centuries and to this very day, that in the very rare instance that it is done by the historically oppressed women to the historically oppressive men, then it's, if not acceptable, at the very least understandable and since it doesn't come close to what men have been doing for generations to women, what happened on Ellen's show is essentially a non-issue.
To further the point and to demonstrate how there is a currently an attempt being made by some men to make amends for the years of wrongs inflicted upon women, one of my friends shared the link to this clip:
This clip is based upon a document called "A Manifesto for Conscious Men" written by Arjuna Ardagh and Gay Hendricks. It has a very interesting idea behind it, and I like the underlying premise – that it is time for society, particularly the men in society, to recognize the wrongs which women have suffered for many generations, and to ensure that current and future societies do not commit the same grievous wrongs against women which have been prevalent for much too long.
So far, I wholeheartedly agree.
But then the clip takes a turn which I simply cannot accept. The men apologize to the women for the wrongs that the women have suffered at the hands of men in the past. Never mind that these particular men have not committed any of the atrocities themselves, and never mind if a woman seeing the video has not personally suffered any injustices – these men have taken it upon themselves to apologize on behalf of all men everywhere for the way in which society has viewed and treated women for millennia.
With all due respect to the sentiment, this strikes me as bordering on the absurd.
For one thing, I am very inclined to believe that we cannot ignore the societal influences in every generation which have played a significant factor in how women have been often treated. I am not sure how much we can judge the standards of other eras by the values of our present era.
Obviously here we need to be very careful, and to make a distinction between certain forms of mistreatment of women. Rape, abuse and sexual slavery are never acceptable, by any societal or periodic norms. Ever.
But things such as barring from political and religious leadership roles, even what we today recognize as subservient chores, are a bit trickier. It can be a very slippery slope applying our 21st century Western societal standards and sensitivities to other times, other places, other societies and other realities.
Beyond that, how can any men presume to apologize "on behalf of their gender" simply because we all have possession of a penis in common? Are we not each responsible for ourselves, our own actions, attitudes and prejudices?
Even more absurd is that the men who wrote this Manifesto acknowledge that they themselves never committed any of these wrongs, and that many of the men who were responsible for them are no longer living. So why the apology? Because, as they say "Among the living, many men may be unable to apologize because they remain shackled in a prison of anger, fear and shame".
OK – that's one possible explanation for the lack of apology by men who have not yet gone to meet their Maker. Another possibility is that of all the men still alive, there are men who have been guilty of sexism and of mistreating women, and those who have not. Of those who have been guilty of it, many haven't apologized because they are unaware that what they have done (or are still doing) is wrong. Of those who are not guilty of sexism, it is possible that they have not apologized because they have done nothing to apologize for, and they do not see is as incumbent upon them to speak on behalf of other men.
What bothers me the most about this Manifesto is that rather than breaking down gender stereotypes, in many instances the document reinforces the stereotypes, and in doing so, they reinforce the very roots of sexism.
So, obviously I have "issues" with this "Manifesto for Conscious Men." But even if one is to accept it all as it stands, it still does not really address what initially bothered me – which is the double standard I believe would exist if a male-hosted talk show included a similar "Hot Babe in a Box".
If gender-based objectification is inherently wrong, then it is wrong no matter who is on the receiving end of it. Otherwise, we are simply grouping all men as "guilty" of what women have endured, and even justifying collective punishment on an entire gender by "doing to them what 'their kind' have been doing to women for years".
The "Hunk in a Box" has nothing to do with the history of women's oppression. If I could invent a time machine, and go back to undo the wrongs committed against women through the centuries throughout the world, I would do so, and gladly.
But alas, we are limited by the fact that life is not a fantasy novel or movie, so we need to be focusing on what we can do. And that is to concentrate, men and women alike, on celebrating the common ground which lies between the genders as well as whatever inherent differences may exist between us. Our job is to treat all fellow members of the human race, no matter their gender (and of course race, creed, color, religion, and so forth), as equals, worthy of love, respect and equality in every way. Most of all, it is our responsibility to educate our children, and they in turn their children, what gender equality and respect truly are.
To be honest, I seriously doubt that we will ever see true full gender equality in our lifetime. But if all men and women begin planting the seeds today, perhaps by the time our great-grandchildren have been born, the entire issue of sexism will exist only in history books.
Until then, if they insist on using my near-double as the "Hunk in a Box", I think I should be paid some royalties.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Large Family - Available For The Taking
A couple of nights ago an opportunity presented itself for me to undo one of my biggest regrets, that I have not established relationships with the many distant relatives that I have in Israel.
We didn't even know about the entire Israeli branch of family until about 30 years ago. How's this for a small-world-all-the-cosmic-forces-coming-together story? (By the way, in the interest of not printing any names of relatives without their permission, I am requesting in advance your forbearance for a lot of initials which be used instead).
I have an older cousin on my mother's side; I'll call her "CB", who is a real "Auntie Mame" type of character – she lives life to the fullest, she has a great time "doing her thing", and she has no qualms about speaking whatever is on her mind whenever it's on her mind. CB used to come to Israel on a regular basis with a program allowing retirees to volunteer on army bases. One year her group was taking a one-day trip to a city she had previously seen, so CB went to the city of Rishon LeTzion on her own since she had never been there.
While strolling through the city, CB saw a man who looked very familiar. Being the "Auntie Mame" that she is, she approached him, and said that there is no way she could possibly know him, but he looked too familiar for this to be coincidence, and asked who he was. It turns out that he was the oldest of five siblings who were orphaned in the Holocaust. They all came to Israel in 1947 (which was called Palestine at the time) with a group of 720 orphans known as the "Tehran Children" who were brought to Palestine from Europe via Siberia and Tehran (hence the name of the group). This gentleman (we'll refer to him as "YR"), was the son of my mother's father's brother, and he looked so much like my maternal grandfather, which is why CB approached him in the first place. When CB went to meet YR's four siblings, she almost fainted when she first saw his sister LN – she could have been my maternal grandmother's twin.
The most incredible aspect of this was that YR did not live in Rishon LeTzion (where he met CB) - he just happened to be there that day for work - on the very day that CB just happened to be there because it was the free day she had while her group was somewhere else, and she had decided not to join them that day.
Seriously - what are the odds?
So, all of the sudden, we had a whole branch of family in Israel, and when I came in 1988 I became close to YR, his wife and their only son (JH), who was in high school at the time. I also became friendly with LN and her husband, but their children were all grown, married and out of the house by that time, so I never got to know them.
Over the years YR and his wife passed away, but I was still in regular contact with JH, I attended his wedding as well as the bris for his first-born son. But, other than LN and her husband, I had almost no contact with anybody else in this extended branch of the family. At one gathering I met one of LN's daughters but that was it. CB has been in regular contact with LN, and they are very close, and my mother has also become very friendly with LN, in spite of the fact that they don't have a common language (whenever Mom is here, they get together with either me or Sharon translating for them).
A couple of months ago, LN's daughter – RJ, called my mother from Israel to invite her to her son's wedding. While Mom had only met this woman a handful of times, the invitation was very warm, very genuine and very sweet. And since any excuse to visit Israel to see us and the grandchildren is a good one, Mom decided to come. RJ also called me to invite us to the wedding, and like with Mom, while I had met her only once, and that was about 15 years ago, I felt that she truly wanted us to join her family for this joyous occasion.
This past Sunday we went to the wedding. We only knew a handful of people there – LN and her husband, and JH, who I had not seen in about 9 years since before he and his family went to South Africa for a 4-year stint, and we had not been in touch since then or since they returned. When I approached JH, he gave me a hug and an invitation to his son's Bar Mitzvah which will be a weekend-long event at a hotel in two weeks. He brought the invitation since he had been told that we would be at the wedding, and he made it very clear that he really hoped that we could come to the Bar Mitzvah.
In spite of knowing next to nobody there, we had an absolutely fantastic time. We were seated at a table with CB, who is now in her late 80's and her newlywed 95-year old husband, with LN and her husband, and her son (who I had never met) with his wife and two sons. We also met the groom and bride (who said that they had heard about us and were very happy that we were able to come) and the groom's sister.
The mother of the groom, RJ, who had taken the initiative to personally invite us to the wedding, told me basically what I needed to hear – that the "ball is now in my court."
Of course, she's right. She made the first move and called us to invite us to the wedding. This was her way of reaching out to establish a connection between her "branch" of the family and us. Now it really is up to me to demonstrate that it is important to me as well.
And I really hope to keep up my end of things. I was able to briefly meet two of RJ's three children, as well as her brother and family sitting at our table. They all seem genuinely happy for us to start knowing one another, and as somebody with no immediately family in Israel other than one of my wife's sisters, for me this is huge.
I have no regrets about the fact that I have chosen Israel as the place to build my life and raise my family. As I have mentioned in other blogs, one of the biggest difficulties in this is the fact that my family is still in America. I am very grateful to my family for all of their love and their support on my decision to live in Israel, but I also miss them terribly and I feel the hole in my life for not having them on the same side of the world as I am.
Even more, this is hard on my children. They have a large number of cousins, aunts and uncles in America, but only one aunt and uncle and four cousins living here. They have a wonderful relationship with the cousins here, but it is not the same as it would be if they had the entire extended family living in Israel.
And this is why RJ putting the ball into my court is so important. I owe it to my girls (and to myself) to enjoy having family, and to developing a relationship with people with whom we by all rights should have a natural connection.
The extended family here is very different than Sharon and I are – they are all native born Israelis, we are immigrants. All but one of the families are secular, whereas we are religiously observant. Yet for all of the differences, they have shown us only warmth and welcome, and a true hope to share family events and celebrations with us.
How can I deny my children what I have been foolish enough to deny myself up until now?
So the hard part now begins. I say hard, but I have no doubt that it will be worth every bit of effort that I put into it. And my girls may then grow up like most other Israeli children – with a large and loving family throughout the country.
We didn't even know about the entire Israeli branch of family until about 30 years ago. How's this for a small-world-all-the-cosmic-forces-coming-together story? (By the way, in the interest of not printing any names of relatives without their permission, I am requesting in advance your forbearance for a lot of initials which be used instead).
I have an older cousin on my mother's side; I'll call her "CB", who is a real "Auntie Mame" type of character – she lives life to the fullest, she has a great time "doing her thing", and she has no qualms about speaking whatever is on her mind whenever it's on her mind. CB used to come to Israel on a regular basis with a program allowing retirees to volunteer on army bases. One year her group was taking a one-day trip to a city she had previously seen, so CB went to the city of Rishon LeTzion on her own since she had never been there.
While strolling through the city, CB saw a man who looked very familiar. Being the "Auntie Mame" that she is, she approached him, and said that there is no way she could possibly know him, but he looked too familiar for this to be coincidence, and asked who he was. It turns out that he was the oldest of five siblings who were orphaned in the Holocaust. They all came to Israel in 1947 (which was called Palestine at the time) with a group of 720 orphans known as the "Tehran Children" who were brought to Palestine from Europe via Siberia and Tehran (hence the name of the group). This gentleman (we'll refer to him as "YR"), was the son of my mother's father's brother, and he looked so much like my maternal grandfather, which is why CB approached him in the first place. When CB went to meet YR's four siblings, she almost fainted when she first saw his sister LN – she could have been my maternal grandmother's twin.
The most incredible aspect of this was that YR did not live in Rishon LeTzion (where he met CB) - he just happened to be there that day for work - on the very day that CB just happened to be there because it was the free day she had while her group was somewhere else, and she had decided not to join them that day.
Seriously - what are the odds?
So, all of the sudden, we had a whole branch of family in Israel, and when I came in 1988 I became close to YR, his wife and their only son (JH), who was in high school at the time. I also became friendly with LN and her husband, but their children were all grown, married and out of the house by that time, so I never got to know them.
Over the years YR and his wife passed away, but I was still in regular contact with JH, I attended his wedding as well as the bris for his first-born son. But, other than LN and her husband, I had almost no contact with anybody else in this extended branch of the family. At one gathering I met one of LN's daughters but that was it. CB has been in regular contact with LN, and they are very close, and my mother has also become very friendly with LN, in spite of the fact that they don't have a common language (whenever Mom is here, they get together with either me or Sharon translating for them).
A couple of months ago, LN's daughter – RJ, called my mother from Israel to invite her to her son's wedding. While Mom had only met this woman a handful of times, the invitation was very warm, very genuine and very sweet. And since any excuse to visit Israel to see us and the grandchildren is a good one, Mom decided to come. RJ also called me to invite us to the wedding, and like with Mom, while I had met her only once, and that was about 15 years ago, I felt that she truly wanted us to join her family for this joyous occasion.
This past Sunday we went to the wedding. We only knew a handful of people there – LN and her husband, and JH, who I had not seen in about 9 years since before he and his family went to South Africa for a 4-year stint, and we had not been in touch since then or since they returned. When I approached JH, he gave me a hug and an invitation to his son's Bar Mitzvah which will be a weekend-long event at a hotel in two weeks. He brought the invitation since he had been told that we would be at the wedding, and he made it very clear that he really hoped that we could come to the Bar Mitzvah.
In spite of knowing next to nobody there, we had an absolutely fantastic time. We were seated at a table with CB, who is now in her late 80's and her newlywed 95-year old husband, with LN and her husband, and her son (who I had never met) with his wife and two sons. We also met the groom and bride (who said that they had heard about us and were very happy that we were able to come) and the groom's sister.
The mother of the groom, RJ, who had taken the initiative to personally invite us to the wedding, told me basically what I needed to hear – that the "ball is now in my court."
Of course, she's right. She made the first move and called us to invite us to the wedding. This was her way of reaching out to establish a connection between her "branch" of the family and us. Now it really is up to me to demonstrate that it is important to me as well.
And I really hope to keep up my end of things. I was able to briefly meet two of RJ's three children, as well as her brother and family sitting at our table. They all seem genuinely happy for us to start knowing one another, and as somebody with no immediately family in Israel other than one of my wife's sisters, for me this is huge.
I have no regrets about the fact that I have chosen Israel as the place to build my life and raise my family. As I have mentioned in other blogs, one of the biggest difficulties in this is the fact that my family is still in America. I am very grateful to my family for all of their love and their support on my decision to live in Israel, but I also miss them terribly and I feel the hole in my life for not having them on the same side of the world as I am.
Even more, this is hard on my children. They have a large number of cousins, aunts and uncles in America, but only one aunt and uncle and four cousins living here. They have a wonderful relationship with the cousins here, but it is not the same as it would be if they had the entire extended family living in Israel.
And this is why RJ putting the ball into my court is so important. I owe it to my girls (and to myself) to enjoy having family, and to developing a relationship with people with whom we by all rights should have a natural connection.
The extended family here is very different than Sharon and I are – they are all native born Israelis, we are immigrants. All but one of the families are secular, whereas we are religiously observant. Yet for all of the differences, they have shown us only warmth and welcome, and a true hope to share family events and celebrations with us.
How can I deny my children what I have been foolish enough to deny myself up until now?
So the hard part now begins. I say hard, but I have no doubt that it will be worth every bit of effort that I put into it. And my girls may then grow up like most other Israeli children – with a large and loving family throughout the country.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Second Door Opens
In late November, I parted ways with my last job working in Incoming Tourism. While there was a certain level of disappointment at the time, I was also very optimistic about what I saw as a change in direction (if you are interested, I shared my feelings at the time in the blog “Doors Close and Doors Open”). Last month, I decided to take advantage of the fact that I am no longer stuck in an office every day, and I went back to school in pursuit of my never-ending-Bachelor’s-degree-from hell, and I blogged about it in “Opening The First Door”.
So, now a Second Door has opened, and I can barely contain myself for the excitement. As mentioned in “Opening The First Door,” I have been participating in a course to be a guide at Neot Kedumim – Israel’s biblical botanical nature reserve, which is just a few minutes outside of Modi’in. When I interviewed for the course, I mentioned my background in sales and marketing as well as my love of writing, and asked them to consider me if anything came up. A couple of weeks ago, I received a call from Neot Kedumim letting me know that they are looking for a person to write and edit their newsletter on a freelance basis, and could I come in to discuss it with the Director. I did so, and then waited while they met other potential candidates for the position.
Earlier this week I received a call from the site’s Marketing Director further discussing the position, as well as an additional project of English content writing for the new website which they are in the process of building. Afterwards, she sent me a couple of documents to translate (the position will involve writing, editing and translating articles from Hebrew to English). Besides providing a fairly straight translation of what was a very interesting article about a particular plant, I also sent a suggested revised copy of the same article after editing it. Yesterday I received an email asking if I could join the Marketing Director and three other staff members for a meeting in Tel Aviv with the company that is building their website. This morning, I asked if this means that we are “moving forward” and that they will also be using me for the newsletter, and the answer was yes. To make sure that I wasn’t missing any obscure messages of indecision, I also asked if that means that I can tell my wife that I have found a job. Again – the answer was in the affirmative, thus putting to rest any doubts that I may have had rooted in my personal insecurities.
I don’t yet know exactly what the conditions and terms will be – I am meeting with the Marketing Director on Sunday to work that out, but it is looking like this work will be fairly long-term between the web site and the newsletter as well as other projects (one of which was already brought up today by the Director of Incoming Tourism for the organization.
So, as I keep telling myself to remind me that it’s real – I have a job. Even better, it’s a job doing work that I absolutely love doing, and with an organization for which I have tremendous respect. Even better than that, it will be working very flexible hours, mostly from home, which will allow me to continue spending a lot of quality afternoon and evening time with my family – something that was sorely lacking in my life throughout the years that I was a full-time employee sitting in an office. I took a chance in not looking too hard in the field where I have worked for the past 7 years, preferring to follow my heart and do what would make me truly happy, and it feels as though that chance has come back with wonderful dividends.
Of course, now a lot of the “real” work begins. I need to work out with Neot Kedumim the conditions which will be good for me while also fitting into their needs and resources. I need to open a file officially declaring myself as “self-employed”, but before doing that I need to sit with an accountant and explore as much as possible the various options open to me and the pros and cons of each one (when it comes to some areas of knowledge, I am a complete Neanderthal, and everything involved in accountancy, self-employment, etc. is of course one of those areas).
Then of course, I need to start working, and finding the balance with school work and Neot Kedumim work, but after going through all of the bureaucratic and accountancy stuff, that should be a breeze.
Sharon has often quoted her parents in saying that a if a person follows their heart, the money will then follow.
I love that idea and here I am, really following my heart. Considering that I’m middle-aged, overweight and out of shape – if my in-laws are right and the money is following, I hope it doesn't take too long to catch me…
So, now a Second Door has opened, and I can barely contain myself for the excitement. As mentioned in “Opening The First Door,” I have been participating in a course to be a guide at Neot Kedumim – Israel’s biblical botanical nature reserve, which is just a few minutes outside of Modi’in. When I interviewed for the course, I mentioned my background in sales and marketing as well as my love of writing, and asked them to consider me if anything came up. A couple of weeks ago, I received a call from Neot Kedumim letting me know that they are looking for a person to write and edit their newsletter on a freelance basis, and could I come in to discuss it with the Director. I did so, and then waited while they met other potential candidates for the position.
Earlier this week I received a call from the site’s Marketing Director further discussing the position, as well as an additional project of English content writing for the new website which they are in the process of building. Afterwards, she sent me a couple of documents to translate (the position will involve writing, editing and translating articles from Hebrew to English). Besides providing a fairly straight translation of what was a very interesting article about a particular plant, I also sent a suggested revised copy of the same article after editing it. Yesterday I received an email asking if I could join the Marketing Director and three other staff members for a meeting in Tel Aviv with the company that is building their website. This morning, I asked if this means that we are “moving forward” and that they will also be using me for the newsletter, and the answer was yes. To make sure that I wasn’t missing any obscure messages of indecision, I also asked if that means that I can tell my wife that I have found a job. Again – the answer was in the affirmative, thus putting to rest any doubts that I may have had rooted in my personal insecurities.
I don’t yet know exactly what the conditions and terms will be – I am meeting with the Marketing Director on Sunday to work that out, but it is looking like this work will be fairly long-term between the web site and the newsletter as well as other projects (one of which was already brought up today by the Director of Incoming Tourism for the organization.
So, as I keep telling myself to remind me that it’s real – I have a job. Even better, it’s a job doing work that I absolutely love doing, and with an organization for which I have tremendous respect. Even better than that, it will be working very flexible hours, mostly from home, which will allow me to continue spending a lot of quality afternoon and evening time with my family – something that was sorely lacking in my life throughout the years that I was a full-time employee sitting in an office. I took a chance in not looking too hard in the field where I have worked for the past 7 years, preferring to follow my heart and do what would make me truly happy, and it feels as though that chance has come back with wonderful dividends.
Of course, now a lot of the “real” work begins. I need to work out with Neot Kedumim the conditions which will be good for me while also fitting into their needs and resources. I need to open a file officially declaring myself as “self-employed”, but before doing that I need to sit with an accountant and explore as much as possible the various options open to me and the pros and cons of each one (when it comes to some areas of knowledge, I am a complete Neanderthal, and everything involved in accountancy, self-employment, etc. is of course one of those areas).
Then of course, I need to start working, and finding the balance with school work and Neot Kedumim work, but after going through all of the bureaucratic and accountancy stuff, that should be a breeze.
Sharon has often quoted her parents in saying that a if a person follows their heart, the money will then follow.
I love that idea and here I am, really following my heart. Considering that I’m middle-aged, overweight and out of shape – if my in-laws are right and the money is following, I hope it doesn't take too long to catch me…
Friday, February 25, 2011
Opening The First Door
In December, I posted this blog after my last job ended. I wrote that while one door was closing, I saw several other doors on the verge of opening. The period has been both exciting and a bit scary – scary, because we don’t want to be (can’t afford to be) a single-income family, and exciting because, as I mentioned in Doors Opening blog, I am feeling very optimistic about some of the possibilities that I see in turning my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time career move.
I had also mentioned in that blog that I was toying with the idea of starting to work as a freelancer – I really enjoy the flexibility that it would allow and the extra time I would have with the kids. I have been exploring this possibility much more and I think that very soon I will officially declare “Self-Employed” status and working on some freelance projects.
I have a couple of possibilities that are on the horizon – in writing and in Sales and Marketing, although until anything is definite, I’d rather not go into details just yet. A lot of very encouraging feedback and suggestions will hopefully be going into play very soon.
I have also completed 4 of 6 meetings in a course to be a guide at Neot Kedumim – Israel’s biblical botanical nature reserve (check out the website here). Once the course is finished and I “tag along” a few times with some of the more experienced guides when they lead groups, I am very hopeful that this will start providing me with a wonderful freelance income – even just few hours each week.
But for all of the possibilities, the potentials, the hopefullys and the maybes looming on the near horizon, today I stepped through the first of many newly Open Doors in the next stage of my life. I have gone back to school to finish my Bachelor’s degree.
Quick background time: When I graduated high school, I did what was pretty much expected of all of my friends, and the kids that I knew and hung out with – I went to college. My grades in high school were consistently underwhelming, so it took the intervention of a family friend to help me be accepted to the University of Maryland, College Park. I had a wonderful time there – I majored in Hillel (the Jewish Student Center where I hung out) with a minor in late-night television and partying whenever I could.
It was the period of my life when I lived on my own for the first time, worked jobs not for spending money but for living expenses, was basically responsible for myself (not as successfully as I wish in retrospect that I had been). More importantly, I also met a number of very good friends with whom I am still very close to this day.
I wouldn’t trade my time at College Park for anything in the world, but the bottom line was that for all of the positive that came out of the experience, I really had no business being in college at the time. I had been an exceptionally mediocre student in high school when I had parents there to sit on my head to get some homework and studying done. Left to my own devices away at college, with my horrible study habits (or lack thereof), attending class simply wasn’t high on my list of priorities. It amazes me to this day that I even lasted the 2 and a half years that I did before being booted.
After my unsuccessful foray into higher education, I worked for a couple of more years in the States (Atlanta, Ga. to be exact) and then moved to Israel. I enjoyed 2 years of learning at a yeshiva (institute of Jewish study) which was great for me because the studies there for not for grades, or degrees, but rather for the sake of learning Jewish texts, laws and philosophy.
After serving for a year in IDF, and working before and after my army time, I decided that it was time to go back to university, and I was accepted to Bar Ilan University in Ramat Gan (a suburb of Tel Aviv). My major was Land of Israel Studies, which primarily entails archaeology and Israeli history from Biblical through modern periods.
I was older at this point, and more ready to be a student. My study habits still weren’t great, but they weren’t so bad either. The biggest difficulty that I had was the language. My Hebrew was pretty fluent, but studying in it as a second language – listening to lectures, taking notes, reading academic articles and books, writing papers and taking exams – was a whole new proverbial ball game. To make it even more difficult on myself, I decided to write all papers and do all exams in Hebrew, unless the professor was a native English speaker. Over the first couple of years, my grades were decent, but not great. Then I started really getting the hang of things, and my grades started improving significantly.
After a couple of years, I got married, and started working full-time which allowed me the time just for a few classes each semester, so the degree was dragging along. When I started working in Incoming Tourism, my busy season was from about a month before exams started in June until a month after they finished in August. So I had to choose between doing what was needed to stay in school and supporting my family. Family was paramount, and in the spring of 2005 I simply stopped going to classes.
What made this especially hard for me was that I had discovered a love for the studies in the Bible department, which I had declared as my minor. I had even spent a couple of years teaching TaNaCH, which is the initials for the 24 books of the Jewish Bible – standing for Torah, Nevi’im (Prophets) and Ketuvim (the Writings).
But I had to work, and tour operations – particularly for the American market, is not a “student-friendly” line of work.
Return to the present: over the past couple of months, while I have been looking for work, and especially aiming towards freelancing, Sharon and I realized that this may be the perfect time to look into getting back into school and finally finishing this damn degree which has been eluding me (as though I were the completely innocent victim) for nearly 30 years.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I went to Bar Ilan University, did what I had to to do to request returning to my studies and was told that I would have an answer within 2 weeks. I also determined how many classes I still need in order to graduate, and even looked into switching around my major and minor. In the office of the TaNaCH department, I sat down with the secretary and looked at which courses were available second semester of this year which would help me meet my requirements, and came up with 4 classes, all of which are offered on Thursdays.
The two weeks came and went without an answer, and second semester began this week. I went to the campus today in the hopes that I would be allowed to renew my studies, and I figured that even without having an answer yet, it would be good at least attend the 4 classes that I am hoping to take this semester. The first thing that I did this morning was to go to the office responsible for my request to be reinstated. The woman there told me that I have been approved and went through with me step-by-step what the necessary procedures are now for making it all official – paying tuition, getting my student ID card, etc. I’ll take care of that next week – today I need to get to class.
I have decided switch my major and minor, and the degree that I hope to have after 3 or 4 semesters will be in TaNaCH and my minor will be Land of Israel Studies. I have 4 classes to attend this semester, plus I am planning (hoping) to register for 2 additional courses of independent study. It is very possible that by the end of next year, I will have finished all of the requirements and be a college graduate.
Best if all, I really enjoyed the four lectures today.
Whether or not I ever actually use the degree is irrelevant. There is a good chance that I will, but at this point, who knows? I do know that just having the piece of paper will make job hunting a little bit easier, and I truly love the Bible Studies and would consider going back fro further degrees at some point.
What matters for right now is that what was expected of me and hoped for on my behalf – by family, friends, and most of all, myself – now has a fresh chance to actually happen. When something is really important, circumstances might delay it for a while, but there’s no such thing as too late in fulfilling the dream.
I had also mentioned in that blog that I was toying with the idea of starting to work as a freelancer – I really enjoy the flexibility that it would allow and the extra time I would have with the kids. I have been exploring this possibility much more and I think that very soon I will officially declare “Self-Employed” status and working on some freelance projects.
I have a couple of possibilities that are on the horizon – in writing and in Sales and Marketing, although until anything is definite, I’d rather not go into details just yet. A lot of very encouraging feedback and suggestions will hopefully be going into play very soon.
I have also completed 4 of 6 meetings in a course to be a guide at Neot Kedumim – Israel’s biblical botanical nature reserve (check out the website here). Once the course is finished and I “tag along” a few times with some of the more experienced guides when they lead groups, I am very hopeful that this will start providing me with a wonderful freelance income – even just few hours each week.
But for all of the possibilities, the potentials, the hopefullys and the maybes looming on the near horizon, today I stepped through the first of many newly Open Doors in the next stage of my life. I have gone back to school to finish my Bachelor’s degree.
Quick background time: When I graduated high school, I did what was pretty much expected of all of my friends, and the kids that I knew and hung out with – I went to college. My grades in high school were consistently underwhelming, so it took the intervention of a family friend to help me be accepted to the University of Maryland, College Park. I had a wonderful time there – I majored in Hillel (the Jewish Student Center where I hung out) with a minor in late-night television and partying whenever I could.
It was the period of my life when I lived on my own for the first time, worked jobs not for spending money but for living expenses, was basically responsible for myself (not as successfully as I wish in retrospect that I had been). More importantly, I also met a number of very good friends with whom I am still very close to this day.
I wouldn’t trade my time at College Park for anything in the world, but the bottom line was that for all of the positive that came out of the experience, I really had no business being in college at the time. I had been an exceptionally mediocre student in high school when I had parents there to sit on my head to get some homework and studying done. Left to my own devices away at college, with my horrible study habits (or lack thereof), attending class simply wasn’t high on my list of priorities. It amazes me to this day that I even lasted the 2 and a half years that I did before being booted.
After my unsuccessful foray into higher education, I worked for a couple of more years in the States (Atlanta, Ga. to be exact) and then moved to Israel. I enjoyed 2 years of learning at a yeshiva (institute of Jewish study) which was great for me because the studies there for not for grades, or degrees, but rather for the sake of learning Jewish texts, laws and philosophy.
After serving for a year in IDF, and working before and after my army time, I decided that it was time to go back to university, and I was accepted to Bar Ilan University in Ramat Gan (a suburb of Tel Aviv). My major was Land of Israel Studies, which primarily entails archaeology and Israeli history from Biblical through modern periods.
I was older at this point, and more ready to be a student. My study habits still weren’t great, but they weren’t so bad either. The biggest difficulty that I had was the language. My Hebrew was pretty fluent, but studying in it as a second language – listening to lectures, taking notes, reading academic articles and books, writing papers and taking exams – was a whole new proverbial ball game. To make it even more difficult on myself, I decided to write all papers and do all exams in Hebrew, unless the professor was a native English speaker. Over the first couple of years, my grades were decent, but not great. Then I started really getting the hang of things, and my grades started improving significantly.
After a couple of years, I got married, and started working full-time which allowed me the time just for a few classes each semester, so the degree was dragging along. When I started working in Incoming Tourism, my busy season was from about a month before exams started in June until a month after they finished in August. So I had to choose between doing what was needed to stay in school and supporting my family. Family was paramount, and in the spring of 2005 I simply stopped going to classes.
What made this especially hard for me was that I had discovered a love for the studies in the Bible department, which I had declared as my minor. I had even spent a couple of years teaching TaNaCH, which is the initials for the 24 books of the Jewish Bible – standing for Torah, Nevi’im (Prophets) and Ketuvim (the Writings).
But I had to work, and tour operations – particularly for the American market, is not a “student-friendly” line of work.
Return to the present: over the past couple of months, while I have been looking for work, and especially aiming towards freelancing, Sharon and I realized that this may be the perfect time to look into getting back into school and finally finishing this damn degree which has been eluding me (as though I were the completely innocent victim) for nearly 30 years.
So, a couple of weeks ago, I went to Bar Ilan University, did what I had to to do to request returning to my studies and was told that I would have an answer within 2 weeks. I also determined how many classes I still need in order to graduate, and even looked into switching around my major and minor. In the office of the TaNaCH department, I sat down with the secretary and looked at which courses were available second semester of this year which would help me meet my requirements, and came up with 4 classes, all of which are offered on Thursdays.
The two weeks came and went without an answer, and second semester began this week. I went to the campus today in the hopes that I would be allowed to renew my studies, and I figured that even without having an answer yet, it would be good at least attend the 4 classes that I am hoping to take this semester. The first thing that I did this morning was to go to the office responsible for my request to be reinstated. The woman there told me that I have been approved and went through with me step-by-step what the necessary procedures are now for making it all official – paying tuition, getting my student ID card, etc. I’ll take care of that next week – today I need to get to class.
I have decided switch my major and minor, and the degree that I hope to have after 3 or 4 semesters will be in TaNaCH and my minor will be Land of Israel Studies. I have 4 classes to attend this semester, plus I am planning (hoping) to register for 2 additional courses of independent study. It is very possible that by the end of next year, I will have finished all of the requirements and be a college graduate.
Best if all, I really enjoyed the four lectures today.
Whether or not I ever actually use the degree is irrelevant. There is a good chance that I will, but at this point, who knows? I do know that just having the piece of paper will make job hunting a little bit easier, and I truly love the Bible Studies and would consider going back fro further degrees at some point.
What matters for right now is that what was expected of me and hoped for on my behalf – by family, friends, and most of all, myself – now has a fresh chance to actually happen. When something is really important, circumstances might delay it for a while, but there’s no such thing as too late in fulfilling the dream.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
I have been debating with myself for the last couple of hours whether or not to write this up and to post it. I think that I’ve decided to go ahead with it (if you’re reading this, then I guess that means we know what I decided).
I wanted to give Sharon a little surprise today by cleaning the windows in our living room and kitchen both inside and out. I got the outsides of the living room done before the rain started, and after washing the insides I went to the kitchen windows. Now came the tricky part. Our kitchen windows face behind the building, with a small service porch (about 2 feet wide) between the window and the rear wall of our building. It’s not really that serviceable (in spite of the fact that is called a service porch), and the only way to get onto it is by climbing through the window (originally it was where the clothes line was, and that has been out of use since long before we moved in to the apartment and the wires are all broken).
So I climbed through the window onto this service porch with my paper towels and window cleaner ready to attack the much accumulated dirt on the window and I closed the window in order to reach all of it.
BIG mistake. Huge! One for the all-time “Asher Screw-Up” record books.
Intellectually, I knew that the window clicks closed and has to be opened from the inside. I have known that since we moved into this apartment nearly 5 years ago. I’ve known it with other similar style windows in other apartments where I have lived.
Yet my brain conveniently forgot this little tidbit until after I had cleaned the windows (very nicely, I might add) and was ready to go back inside.
Out of the rain. Out of the cold. And to where there was food for me to grab before I had to pick up my 9 year-old daughter from school in 20 minutes.
In a word – Shit!
Of course, since I never would have thought that I'd need my cell phone for cleaning the windows, it was in the house (being nice and warm and probably laughing its apps off at me). So I couldn’t call Revital to tell her to take the bus home instead of waiting for me, so that she could let me in. I also couldn’t call any of our friends who live in the area, or call Sharon to have her call friends whose numbers she has that I don’t.
What I could, and did do, was try to tap on the kitchen window of our across-the-hall neighbor, whose kitchen window is adjacent to ours. Since he wasn’t home, I relied on my back-up plan of waiting and hoping that somebody would come around behind our building soon. While there are several parking spaces behind the building, they are not used as much as the ones in front of the building and very few people are usually hanging out behind the building. Occasionally some of the local kids do play back there, but today was a cold, rainy windy day. This weather is ideal for Israel, but not so great for enticing the kids to come outside and play and help a poor schlemiel get back into his apartment.
So I waited. And I got pretty well soaked. I watched the time that I was supposed to pick up Revital pass on my watch, and even though I couldn’t hear my phone ring from out on that porch, I had no doubt that it was ringing and that she was trying to reach me. I started to wonder if I would get out of there in time to pick up Limor an hour and a quarter later. Most of all, I passed the time trying to decide if I should be laughing or crying about this predicament. It certainly was unlike anything I have ever faced before, and while part of me was thinking about what a great blog this would make, another part of me was thinking that it was pretty damn embarrassing to be sharing with the world. As if people don’t already have an easy time of laughing at me, here I am giving them free ammo.
After about 35 minutes a car pulled up in the back. Thank God! Of course, as is often the case, especially when one has Murphy as a stalker, the woman waited about 5 minutes before getting out of her car. Once she did however, and I managed to explain what exactly I was doing out there on the service porch in this weather, and what exactly she could do to help me, she was only too happy to be my Saving Angel.
I got inside, and of course the phone was ringing, and of course it was Revital, whom I was supposed to have picked up 15 minutes earlier. Fortunately, she was asking if she could go home with a friend who lives a 5-minute walk from the school, and said that this friend’s mother would drive both girls to the birthday party that they were attending this afternoon. I was then able to shower, and thaw out a bit before going to pick up Limor.
I was also able to appreciate how much God, or luck depending on your point of view, was actually on my side through this entire episode. While it had been raining steadily on and off during the 40 minutes or so that I was outside, it was about 3 minutes after I came inside that the truly heavy torrential rain started. I was spared sitting outside during that.
Besides that, there were a some good things that came out of the whole experience. Even though I had to weigh whether or not I should post an account of this embarrassing day, it did help me break through a mini-writer’s block that I have had for the last week and a half. Plus, I was able to get the windows clean, and that really was what the day was all about.
Ultimately, I probably will share this story. As sheepish as I may feel over getting myself into such a ridiculous predicament, I have to also be honest with myself and recognize that intrinsically, it is funny as hell. And if I really want to turn my recently-found love of writing into a full-time thing, then how can I let an opportunity like this one get away? In retrospect it is simply too much fun to not have a record of it for years to come.
And I’ve learned that either somebody has to be home when I wash the kitchen windows, or those suckers just stay dirty.
I wanted to give Sharon a little surprise today by cleaning the windows in our living room and kitchen both inside and out. I got the outsides of the living room done before the rain started, and after washing the insides I went to the kitchen windows. Now came the tricky part. Our kitchen windows face behind the building, with a small service porch (about 2 feet wide) between the window and the rear wall of our building. It’s not really that serviceable (in spite of the fact that is called a service porch), and the only way to get onto it is by climbing through the window (originally it was where the clothes line was, and that has been out of use since long before we moved in to the apartment and the wires are all broken).
So I climbed through the window onto this service porch with my paper towels and window cleaner ready to attack the much accumulated dirt on the window and I closed the window in order to reach all of it.
BIG mistake. Huge! One for the all-time “Asher Screw-Up” record books.
Intellectually, I knew that the window clicks closed and has to be opened from the inside. I have known that since we moved into this apartment nearly 5 years ago. I’ve known it with other similar style windows in other apartments where I have lived.
Yet my brain conveniently forgot this little tidbit until after I had cleaned the windows (very nicely, I might add) and was ready to go back inside.
Out of the rain. Out of the cold. And to where there was food for me to grab before I had to pick up my 9 year-old daughter from school in 20 minutes.
In a word – Shit!
Of course, since I never would have thought that I'd need my cell phone for cleaning the windows, it was in the house (being nice and warm and probably laughing its apps off at me). So I couldn’t call Revital to tell her to take the bus home instead of waiting for me, so that she could let me in. I also couldn’t call any of our friends who live in the area, or call Sharon to have her call friends whose numbers she has that I don’t.
What I could, and did do, was try to tap on the kitchen window of our across-the-hall neighbor, whose kitchen window is adjacent to ours. Since he wasn’t home, I relied on my back-up plan of waiting and hoping that somebody would come around behind our building soon. While there are several parking spaces behind the building, they are not used as much as the ones in front of the building and very few people are usually hanging out behind the building. Occasionally some of the local kids do play back there, but today was a cold, rainy windy day. This weather is ideal for Israel, but not so great for enticing the kids to come outside and play and help a poor schlemiel get back into his apartment.
So I waited. And I got pretty well soaked. I watched the time that I was supposed to pick up Revital pass on my watch, and even though I couldn’t hear my phone ring from out on that porch, I had no doubt that it was ringing and that she was trying to reach me. I started to wonder if I would get out of there in time to pick up Limor an hour and a quarter later. Most of all, I passed the time trying to decide if I should be laughing or crying about this predicament. It certainly was unlike anything I have ever faced before, and while part of me was thinking about what a great blog this would make, another part of me was thinking that it was pretty damn embarrassing to be sharing with the world. As if people don’t already have an easy time of laughing at me, here I am giving them free ammo.
After about 35 minutes a car pulled up in the back. Thank God! Of course, as is often the case, especially when one has Murphy as a stalker, the woman waited about 5 minutes before getting out of her car. Once she did however, and I managed to explain what exactly I was doing out there on the service porch in this weather, and what exactly she could do to help me, she was only too happy to be my Saving Angel.
I got inside, and of course the phone was ringing, and of course it was Revital, whom I was supposed to have picked up 15 minutes earlier. Fortunately, she was asking if she could go home with a friend who lives a 5-minute walk from the school, and said that this friend’s mother would drive both girls to the birthday party that they were attending this afternoon. I was then able to shower, and thaw out a bit before going to pick up Limor.
I was also able to appreciate how much God, or luck depending on your point of view, was actually on my side through this entire episode. While it had been raining steadily on and off during the 40 minutes or so that I was outside, it was about 3 minutes after I came inside that the truly heavy torrential rain started. I was spared sitting outside during that.
Besides that, there were a some good things that came out of the whole experience. Even though I had to weigh whether or not I should post an account of this embarrassing day, it did help me break through a mini-writer’s block that I have had for the last week and a half. Plus, I was able to get the windows clean, and that really was what the day was all about.
Ultimately, I probably will share this story. As sheepish as I may feel over getting myself into such a ridiculous predicament, I have to also be honest with myself and recognize that intrinsically, it is funny as hell. And if I really want to turn my recently-found love of writing into a full-time thing, then how can I let an opportunity like this one get away? In retrospect it is simply too much fun to not have a record of it for years to come.
And I’ve learned that either somebody has to be home when I wash the kitchen windows, or those suckers just stay dirty.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Showing Us What's Real
I could get into a lot of trouble for this with friends and family, but that’s a risk I’ll just have to take.
Since I bought my new/used laptop last month, I try to spend more of my evening computer time using it while sitting in the living room. It helps me not cut myself off from family time while getting done the things that I need to get done (as well as my “vegg-out time” on Facebook, or playing games, etc.). Inevitably, this keeps me sitting in the living room long after Sharon has fallen asleep but the TV is still on and all too often, the show that comes on is “The Bachelor”.
I know – I should get up off my lazy behind and turn the TV off, but once I’m sitting and doing my thing on the computer (like this very moment; for example), I simply can’t be bothered with such tasks. So “The Bachelor” keeps playing in the background.
Most of you probably at least know this show, if not actually watch it. A flock of very young, very attractive women compete against one another to win the undying love and affection, and of course, Wedding Ring, from a young, eligible bachelor who just happens to have the very rare and fortunate combination of being more ridiculously wealthy than any one guy deserves to be plus looking like he just finished a photo shoot for GQ magazine.
As a general rule, I am offended by the existence of these so-called “reality shows” (although I admit that I did enjoy the one season of “The Biggest Loser” that aired in Israel, but that was different). I hate the hype of these shows; I hate the premise of these shows. Basically (in case you haven’t figured it out yet) I pretty much hate everything about these shows.
But “The Bachelor” especially bothers me.
While I’m sitting at the computer doing whatever it is that I feel I need to do, I get to hear a lot of the interviews on this show. The women keep talking about how “they really are falling in love with” the Bachelor who, at the end of each episode decides which ones are worthy to continue vying for his money – OOOOPS! I mean – his love and affection.
I would love to meet each of these woman – one at a time, look them each deeply in the eyes, gently put my hands on the shoulders, and the shake the stuffing out of them while asking “What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid bitch???”
I mean – seriously! You’ve been cooped with other Playmate dropouts waiting for your chance to have a date with this guy, you finally get that one date – a nice quiet romantic whatever-the-hell you did, complete with cameramen, soundmen, director, best boy, dolly grip and whoever else, then you talk about it as if this was the “real thing”??? You really connected with him so well that you’re ready to throw all caution to the wind and marry him if he’s only smart enough and perceptive enough to pop the question to you?
Tell me the truth, you silly woman – if he wasn’t as rich as a medium-sized country, or if he looked more like a John Q. Public – would that date have still been as “magical”? Would the spark be there and would you really be able to envision marrying this guy. Would he really be the one that, as Rita Rudner quipped “you can picture your kids spending their weekends with”?
The only thing that puzzles me more than the ludicrous nature of these shows and of the people appearing in them is their popularity among the general public. Shows like “The Bachelor” (that’s only one example – there are a plethora of others equally annoying) are being made, re-made, copied, in countries all around the world. The American versions are also carried and watched throughout the world. And people really get into them!
Fans honestly discuss – on Facebook, or over lunch, or wherever – who they think will be or should be voted off of these shows. They dissect the pros and cons of each “contestant” and analyze who they think is the “right” person to be chosen.
I especially don’t get how these shows are being passed off as “reality” when I don’t believe that in any way, shape or form they reflect real life. And why are people so into them?
Is real life so drab and colorless that we need shows like these in order to live vicariously through the lives of people that, in all honesty, have little if anything in common with us?
If these shows were marketed as dramas (or perhaps comedies would be more appropriate) then I would probably be less irritated by them, and unquestionably less offended.
If they were marketed as “entertainment” rather than “reality”, then it would be easier for me to say “Feh!” and ignore them.
Then it would be easier to be amused – by how silly the shows are and by how people are so enthralled by them. It would be similar to teasing those who “can’t live” without their soap operas, and similar to the way friends (and my wife) used to tease me for enjoying professional wrestling.
Or maybe all of the people that watch and enjoy these shows have it right and I’m the one missing something.
Perhaps what really bothers me about these shows is that I’ve become so jaded that I can’t even pretend that they do represent some kind of “reality“ that I could imagine myself ever living.
If that’s the case, maybe I should go back to watching professional wrestling…?
Since I bought my new/used laptop last month, I try to spend more of my evening computer time using it while sitting in the living room. It helps me not cut myself off from family time while getting done the things that I need to get done (as well as my “vegg-out time” on Facebook, or playing games, etc.). Inevitably, this keeps me sitting in the living room long after Sharon has fallen asleep but the TV is still on and all too often, the show that comes on is “The Bachelor”.
I know – I should get up off my lazy behind and turn the TV off, but once I’m sitting and doing my thing on the computer (like this very moment; for example), I simply can’t be bothered with such tasks. So “The Bachelor” keeps playing in the background.
Most of you probably at least know this show, if not actually watch it. A flock of very young, very attractive women compete against one another to win the undying love and affection, and of course, Wedding Ring, from a young, eligible bachelor who just happens to have the very rare and fortunate combination of being more ridiculously wealthy than any one guy deserves to be plus looking like he just finished a photo shoot for GQ magazine.
As a general rule, I am offended by the existence of these so-called “reality shows” (although I admit that I did enjoy the one season of “The Biggest Loser” that aired in Israel, but that was different). I hate the hype of these shows; I hate the premise of these shows. Basically (in case you haven’t figured it out yet) I pretty much hate everything about these shows.
But “The Bachelor” especially bothers me.
While I’m sitting at the computer doing whatever it is that I feel I need to do, I get to hear a lot of the interviews on this show. The women keep talking about how “they really are falling in love with” the Bachelor who, at the end of each episode decides which ones are worthy to continue vying for his money – OOOOPS! I mean – his love and affection.
I would love to meet each of these woman – one at a time, look them each deeply in the eyes, gently put my hands on the shoulders, and the shake the stuffing out of them while asking “What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid bitch???”
I mean – seriously! You’ve been cooped with other Playmate dropouts waiting for your chance to have a date with this guy, you finally get that one date – a nice quiet romantic whatever-the-hell you did, complete with cameramen, soundmen, director, best boy, dolly grip and whoever else, then you talk about it as if this was the “real thing”??? You really connected with him so well that you’re ready to throw all caution to the wind and marry him if he’s only smart enough and perceptive enough to pop the question to you?
Tell me the truth, you silly woman – if he wasn’t as rich as a medium-sized country, or if he looked more like a John Q. Public – would that date have still been as “magical”? Would the spark be there and would you really be able to envision marrying this guy. Would he really be the one that, as Rita Rudner quipped “you can picture your kids spending their weekends with”?
The only thing that puzzles me more than the ludicrous nature of these shows and of the people appearing in them is their popularity among the general public. Shows like “The Bachelor” (that’s only one example – there are a plethora of others equally annoying) are being made, re-made, copied, in countries all around the world. The American versions are also carried and watched throughout the world. And people really get into them!
Fans honestly discuss – on Facebook, or over lunch, or wherever – who they think will be or should be voted off of these shows. They dissect the pros and cons of each “contestant” and analyze who they think is the “right” person to be chosen.
I especially don’t get how these shows are being passed off as “reality” when I don’t believe that in any way, shape or form they reflect real life. And why are people so into them?
Is real life so drab and colorless that we need shows like these in order to live vicariously through the lives of people that, in all honesty, have little if anything in common with us?
If these shows were marketed as dramas (or perhaps comedies would be more appropriate) then I would probably be less irritated by them, and unquestionably less offended.
If they were marketed as “entertainment” rather than “reality”, then it would be easier for me to say “Feh!” and ignore them.
Then it would be easier to be amused – by how silly the shows are and by how people are so enthralled by them. It would be similar to teasing those who “can’t live” without their soap operas, and similar to the way friends (and my wife) used to tease me for enjoying professional wrestling.
Or maybe all of the people that watch and enjoy these shows have it right and I’m the one missing something.
Perhaps what really bothers me about these shows is that I’ve become so jaded that I can’t even pretend that they do represent some kind of “reality“ that I could imagine myself ever living.
If that’s the case, maybe I should go back to watching professional wrestling…?
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
H*ckl*b*rry F*nn - Are you kidding me?
How far is going too far with even the best of intentions?
Apparently a revised edition of Mark Twain’s "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” are going to be published soon, “updated” to be timely with the 21st century. These modernized versions are meant to bring the 21st century ideas of “politically correct” to the 19th century, and will be using the word “slave” throughout the book in place of the word “nigger” (yes, I know – I’ve just committed a cardinal sin by even using the word in any context – I’m supposed to say “the n- word”, but I confess, for all that I agree with and support “Politically Correct” there are some measures which strike me a silly and pointless).
These editions will also replace the term "injun" with "Indian Joe" (I don’t get why not "Native American Joe", but what do I know anyway?).
Now, don't get me wrong – I am all for Political Correctness, and I agree that there are words that are offensive words – but here's the rub - when in a particular context.
It seems to me, being the layman that I am, that a huge part of studying classic literature is to understand it within the context of when and where it was written. "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” were written in 1876 and 1884 respectively, and both stories take place in the pre-Civil War period. The books reflect the language of the period – both when the books were written and when the stories took place.
What's more, it is very clear from the books that Mark Twain is speaking out (very forcefully) against racism, segregation and hatred. To whitewash the language used in the books and reflected the period of US history (no pun intended, well not too much, anyway) is taking away from realism of the novels.
As an avid reader, I can tell you that a huge part of my ability to "get into" a book is to feel that I am there – in the story, watching it all happen from the very front row. I cannot read a 19th century book and feel that I am witnessing the story first-hand if the language used is catered to 21st century sensitivities. It simply wouldn't work – it would feel fake.
But I think the issue goes deeper than the use of the words in the book.
It seems to me that people by and large get so caught up in the word itself that they have lost perspective in the use of language.
I mentioned in this blog a couple of months ago my earliest lesson in life about using racist words (the lesson taught me not to use slurs, not how to use them). Nevertheless, I think that there is a huge difference in using a word as a slur – and using the word in a conversation or discussion about the word itself.
A few months ago there was a huge uproar over Dr. Laura Schlesinger's radio show when she used the word repeatedly. Now, I have never liked Dr. Laura, and with all that I know of her, hear and see about her, I have never had any desire to hear her show, nor did her resignation particularly bother me.
But I was surprised at what I read about the whole incident. Every article and opinion piece that I saw talked about how horrible it was that she "used the n-word", and they even counted how many times she used it. Then I read the transcript of the broadcast – at no time did she use the word as a way of referring to blacks. That is to say, at no time did she refer to blacks as "niggers". She didn't.
Much of what she said was racist and completely unacceptable and an outrage was very much in line as was her resignation. But the outrage should have been over what she did wrong – and I don't believe that using the word "nigger" in the context that she used it was what she did that was so wrong.
But this seems typical of how society is trying to over-compensate for its racist past. We can't even talk about a word that is such a horrible racist slur without using a code for it. I'm sorry but that seems to me somewhat ridiculous.
If I talk about the anti-Semitism which I have faced in my life, I don't say that somebody called me "the k-word". No – I'll say they called me a kike. And if the newspapers report an incident where the word "kike" is written all over the walls of a synagogue, they'll report the word that was used – they don't pussyfoot around it giving it some kind of code name.
Lenny Bruce had an absolutely brilliant comic routine (I assume that this was an actual routine of his – I saw it in the 1974 bio-pic "Lenny" starring Dustin Hoffman). In it, he starts "counting" how many "niggers" he sees in the room, followed by the kikes, wops, greaseballs, spics and guineas – he even turns it into an "auction" keeping track of many of each he's tallied.
He goes on say that the point he was making is that "it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness."
He finishes it up by saying that if President Kennedy were to go on national TV and say the word "nigger" over and over until it didn't mean anything anymore, "then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school".
Maybe this is completely non-PC of me and I mightmaybe I'll have to follow Dr. Laura on the road to resignation, but I think Lenny hit the nail on the head. We need to focus on truly eradicating the real racism and the hate that is still far too prevalent in the world today, and not waste our energies in pretending the words themselves never existed.
Doing that with "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” isn't censorship, it's revisionism.
Apparently a revised edition of Mark Twain’s "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” are going to be published soon, “updated” to be timely with the 21st century. These modernized versions are meant to bring the 21st century ideas of “politically correct” to the 19th century, and will be using the word “slave” throughout the book in place of the word “nigger” (yes, I know – I’ve just committed a cardinal sin by even using the word in any context – I’m supposed to say “the n- word”, but I confess, for all that I agree with and support “Politically Correct” there are some measures which strike me a silly and pointless).
These editions will also replace the term "injun" with "Indian Joe" (I don’t get why not "Native American Joe", but what do I know anyway?).
Now, don't get me wrong – I am all for Political Correctness, and I agree that there are words that are offensive words – but here's the rub - when in a particular context.
It seems to me, being the layman that I am, that a huge part of studying classic literature is to understand it within the context of when and where it was written. "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” were written in 1876 and 1884 respectively, and both stories take place in the pre-Civil War period. The books reflect the language of the period – both when the books were written and when the stories took place.
What's more, it is very clear from the books that Mark Twain is speaking out (very forcefully) against racism, segregation and hatred. To whitewash the language used in the books and reflected the period of US history (no pun intended, well not too much, anyway) is taking away from realism of the novels.
As an avid reader, I can tell you that a huge part of my ability to "get into" a book is to feel that I am there – in the story, watching it all happen from the very front row. I cannot read a 19th century book and feel that I am witnessing the story first-hand if the language used is catered to 21st century sensitivities. It simply wouldn't work – it would feel fake.
But I think the issue goes deeper than the use of the words in the book.
It seems to me that people by and large get so caught up in the word itself that they have lost perspective in the use of language.
I mentioned in this blog a couple of months ago my earliest lesson in life about using racist words (the lesson taught me not to use slurs, not how to use them). Nevertheless, I think that there is a huge difference in using a word as a slur – and using the word in a conversation or discussion about the word itself.
A few months ago there was a huge uproar over Dr. Laura Schlesinger's radio show when she used the word repeatedly. Now, I have never liked Dr. Laura, and with all that I know of her, hear and see about her, I have never had any desire to hear her show, nor did her resignation particularly bother me.
But I was surprised at what I read about the whole incident. Every article and opinion piece that I saw talked about how horrible it was that she "used the n-word", and they even counted how many times she used it. Then I read the transcript of the broadcast – at no time did she use the word as a way of referring to blacks. That is to say, at no time did she refer to blacks as "niggers". She didn't.
Much of what she said was racist and completely unacceptable and an outrage was very much in line as was her resignation. But the outrage should have been over what she did wrong – and I don't believe that using the word "nigger" in the context that she used it was what she did that was so wrong.
But this seems typical of how society is trying to over-compensate for its racist past. We can't even talk about a word that is such a horrible racist slur without using a code for it. I'm sorry but that seems to me somewhat ridiculous.
If I talk about the anti-Semitism which I have faced in my life, I don't say that somebody called me "the k-word". No – I'll say they called me a kike. And if the newspapers report an incident where the word "kike" is written all over the walls of a synagogue, they'll report the word that was used – they don't pussyfoot around it giving it some kind of code name.
Lenny Bruce had an absolutely brilliant comic routine (I assume that this was an actual routine of his – I saw it in the 1974 bio-pic "Lenny" starring Dustin Hoffman). In it, he starts "counting" how many "niggers" he sees in the room, followed by the kikes, wops, greaseballs, spics and guineas – he even turns it into an "auction" keeping track of many of each he's tallied.
He goes on say that the point he was making is that "it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness."
He finishes it up by saying that if President Kennedy were to go on national TV and say the word "nigger" over and over until it didn't mean anything anymore, "then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school".
Maybe this is completely non-PC of me and I mightmaybe I'll have to follow Dr. Laura on the road to resignation, but I think Lenny hit the nail on the head. We need to focus on truly eradicating the real racism and the hate that is still far too prevalent in the world today, and not waste our energies in pretending the words themselves never existed.
Doing that with "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” isn't censorship, it's revisionism.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Another year, another wish
A friend of mine, an English teacher here in Modi’in, posted a very amusing, and very interesting status update the other day on Facebook. She wrote that she had confused a lot of her students when she told them that she “would see them next year....and that she wasn't coming back until next year”. Neither this friend nor the students at the school where she teaches are religiously observant, and she was amazed at how insignificant the secular, or more accurately Gregorian New Year is in Israeli culture.
This concept fascinates me. While there are the standard New Years parties in some of Israel, it really isn’t such a big deal as it always has been in America.
Interesting side note – in Israel, New Years is called Sylvester – ironically named for an extremely anti-Semitic pope and subsequent saint who lived and reigned in the 4th century CE.
I was never so into New Years, even when I lived in the States. I go to the parties, sometimes, because any excuse for a party was good enough for me. But essentially it didn’t really matter to me so much – other than having to remember what year to write on the dates of checks, papers, etc. Other than that, nothing….
But growing up in America, New Years was a big deal. The sales, the New Years Resolutions, the “year in review”, and so on and so forth.
And even though it never really “grabbed” me so much, I do like the idea of taking stock of the past year while looking ahead to the coming one. Yes, that is a big part of what we do during Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), but living in the “modern” world we do relate to the Gregorian dates, and we do remember things that happened according to the non-Jewish years, so I guess it makes sense to take stock of this kind of year as well.
I started 2010 looking for work – just like I’m ending it. In between I worked for nearly 11 months at a company which had a lot of good things to it and I gained a lot from it, but I wasn’t a bad thing that it came to an end, and as I mentioned in this blog, I have a lot of high hopes for new things to come up very soon.
This year saw my kids grow tremendously – they are at the ages when a year makes a world of difference. Our older daughter, Revital, has been having the best year socially since she started grade school, and we have gotten to see her blossom, and Limor, our 6-year old is developing by leaps and bounds and is every day developing into such a special little girl.
There is a lot that I hope to be able to say by the end of 2011 – I hope that I have a better control over my temper, which sometimes gets the best of me (I’ve been working on that a lot, and plan to continue). I hope to finally get myself both serious and consistent about losing weight.
Obviously, I would love for 2011 to be the year that I can turn my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time endeavor - whether in the professional realm of work, or with the blogging, or whatever. The more I write the more I find that I need to write.
My hope for myself, my family, my friends, and everybody is that 2011 is able to be a year of continued growth, loving, learning, and living life to the fullest. May we all be able to look back on 2010 with warm memories and smiles, and look ahead to the future for even better.
Happy New Year, everybody!
This concept fascinates me. While there are the standard New Years parties in some of Israel, it really isn’t such a big deal as it always has been in America.
Interesting side note – in Israel, New Years is called Sylvester – ironically named for an extremely anti-Semitic pope and subsequent saint who lived and reigned in the 4th century CE.
I was never so into New Years, even when I lived in the States. I go to the parties, sometimes, because any excuse for a party was good enough for me. But essentially it didn’t really matter to me so much – other than having to remember what year to write on the dates of checks, papers, etc. Other than that, nothing….
But growing up in America, New Years was a big deal. The sales, the New Years Resolutions, the “year in review”, and so on and so forth.
And even though it never really “grabbed” me so much, I do like the idea of taking stock of the past year while looking ahead to the coming one. Yes, that is a big part of what we do during Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), but living in the “modern” world we do relate to the Gregorian dates, and we do remember things that happened according to the non-Jewish years, so I guess it makes sense to take stock of this kind of year as well.
I started 2010 looking for work – just like I’m ending it. In between I worked for nearly 11 months at a company which had a lot of good things to it and I gained a lot from it, but I wasn’t a bad thing that it came to an end, and as I mentioned in this blog, I have a lot of high hopes for new things to come up very soon.
This year saw my kids grow tremendously – they are at the ages when a year makes a world of difference. Our older daughter, Revital, has been having the best year socially since she started grade school, and we have gotten to see her blossom, and Limor, our 6-year old is developing by leaps and bounds and is every day developing into such a special little girl.
There is a lot that I hope to be able to say by the end of 2011 – I hope that I have a better control over my temper, which sometimes gets the best of me (I’ve been working on that a lot, and plan to continue). I hope to finally get myself both serious and consistent about losing weight.
Obviously, I would love for 2011 to be the year that I can turn my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time endeavor - whether in the professional realm of work, or with the blogging, or whatever. The more I write the more I find that I need to write.
My hope for myself, my family, my friends, and everybody is that 2011 is able to be a year of continued growth, loving, learning, and living life to the fullest. May we all be able to look back on 2010 with warm memories and smiles, and look ahead to the future for even better.
Happy New Year, everybody!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Doors close and doors open
As of a couple of weeks ago, I have been unemployed.
It wasn’t really much of a surprise. For a while I hadn’t really been happy at the job, and I knew that the new manager wasn’t so happy with me either. I had actually been planning to quit within a few days, but essentially they beat me to the punch.
I would have preferred it be on my terms rather than theirs, but that’s probably more an ego thing than anything else.
The big disappointment actually came a few days after I left the job. I had been in negotiations for another job for quite a while - one which I believe was “custom-made” for me, and when I had the third meeting with the CEO (one day before I was let go from my job), he told me that this was moving forward and he really believed that “it was going to happen”. So I was fairly confident that things were on their way to working out.
Until the following week when the HR person called to tell me that the CEO had decided to re-evaluate the position and what exactly he expected from it. This, after several months of meetings, phone calls, and high hopes.
So I’m back on the proverbial market, and the truth is that I am pretty optimistic. There are a few tourism-related positions which I have seen advertised and to whom I have sent my CV. I have also sent my details to a number of positions which I have seen which would (if I’m hired) allow me to turn my newly-found love of writing into a full-time career.
I have also been toying with the idea of going freelance – writing, translating, and the like. I have a few ideas for freelance niches where it seems there is a need, and I believe that I would be able to meet that need pretty well.
I am especially attracted to the flexibility that freelancing would allow me and the time that I would be able to have with the kids.
To that end, I bought a used laptop computer last week (this is the first blog – or anything else for that matter, which I have written using the new/used computer). It’s my first laptop, so I’m still in the “learning what the hell I’m doing” phase with it. It’s not a great computer, but it was very inexpensive (a couple of people who know about these things better than I do agreed that the price was very reasonable), but it should be good enough to get me started. I am hoping that if I can get myself up and running as an independent this will make a big difference.
Of course, any leads from friends will be greatly appreciated, but all in all, while one chapter of my life has come to a close, I have a feeling that a lot of options and a lot of opportunities are right around the proverbial corner. Hope is springing eternal, and I look forward to sharing good news with you all very soon.
It wasn’t really much of a surprise. For a while I hadn’t really been happy at the job, and I knew that the new manager wasn’t so happy with me either. I had actually been planning to quit within a few days, but essentially they beat me to the punch.
I would have preferred it be on my terms rather than theirs, but that’s probably more an ego thing than anything else.
The big disappointment actually came a few days after I left the job. I had been in negotiations for another job for quite a while - one which I believe was “custom-made” for me, and when I had the third meeting with the CEO (one day before I was let go from my job), he told me that this was moving forward and he really believed that “it was going to happen”. So I was fairly confident that things were on their way to working out.
Until the following week when the HR person called to tell me that the CEO had decided to re-evaluate the position and what exactly he expected from it. This, after several months of meetings, phone calls, and high hopes.
So I’m back on the proverbial market, and the truth is that I am pretty optimistic. There are a few tourism-related positions which I have seen advertised and to whom I have sent my CV. I have also sent my details to a number of positions which I have seen which would (if I’m hired) allow me to turn my newly-found love of writing into a full-time career.
I have also been toying with the idea of going freelance – writing, translating, and the like. I have a few ideas for freelance niches where it seems there is a need, and I believe that I would be able to meet that need pretty well.
I am especially attracted to the flexibility that freelancing would allow me and the time that I would be able to have with the kids.
To that end, I bought a used laptop computer last week (this is the first blog – or anything else for that matter, which I have written using the new/used computer). It’s my first laptop, so I’m still in the “learning what the hell I’m doing” phase with it. It’s not a great computer, but it was very inexpensive (a couple of people who know about these things better than I do agreed that the price was very reasonable), but it should be good enough to get me started. I am hoping that if I can get myself up and running as an independent this will make a big difference.
Of course, any leads from friends will be greatly appreciated, but all in all, while one chapter of my life has come to a close, I have a feeling that a lot of options and a lot of opportunities are right around the proverbial corner. Hope is springing eternal, and I look forward to sharing good news with you all very soon.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The day the train was late
My train was delayed the other day. By a little over an hour.
That's always a pain in the ass, and usually a good excuse for me to get upset at IsraelRail, or anyone else that I can blame for disrupting my day so inconsiderately.
But then they made the announcement explaining the delay and apologizing for it, and I found that I really couldn't stay angry or point a finger of blame anymore.
It turns out that somebody committed suicide at the station in Herzliya, about 4 stations before mine in Tel Aviv, and that was delaying north- and south-bound trains while the authorities were dealing with what needed to be dealt with.
A couple of people who were also waiting were half-joking with each other about how inconsiderate it was (and a couple of others made a comment to that effect on my Facebook page when I posted the status update about what had happened). They asked "why did he have to do it in a way that's such an inconvenience to others" If you want to kill yourself, do it quietly – at home, out of everyone's way…"
I couldn't bring myself to say that – or to even think it. Instead, I tried to understand what would make a person kill themselves in that public a manner.
Now, of course, I'm not a psychologist (and I don't even play one on TV). I took a couple of psych classes a lifetime and a half ago at the University of Maryland, and the most I got out of that was learning all about Classical Conditioning / Pavlov's Dog.
So, although I am far from being an expert on the human mind, like many people, I do make a regular practice at trying to understand people – in my own non-professional, non-expert fashion.
So I couldn't help trying to figure out this suicide at a train station which threw the schedule of hundreds, in not thousands of people out of whack.
I've heard it said (as most likely we all have) that a suicide attempt is a cry for attention and for help. If that's the case, then I would imagine that the person attempting suicide does not to succeed, only to send out the message.
So what does that say about somebody who does do it to succeed? Especially in such a public manner that affects so many others who didn't even know the person?
The only thing that I can think of (and again, I cannot emphasize enough that this these are the thoughts of an un-trained layman – anybody with other insights to the question and ,ore experience than I have are more than welcome to share their thoughts), is that the person is going out with a message to the world.
Rather than the message of the failed attempts of "help me!" this message is more along the lines that "Not only do I have nothing to live for, but in my life I saw myself as a nobody – because I went un-noticed by the world. Maybe I won't be missed after I'm gone, but at least for this one brief hour or two, I will be noticed. I will have an effect on other people's lives".
Not only am I not a trained psychologist with no "real" experience upon which to base this assumption, but I also do not pretend to be a mind reader, and I don't really presume to understand what goes inside somebody else's head. The best I can do is to try to imagine myself in that situation and to guess what would drive me to such an act.
Unfortunately, since the person who did it last week is now dead, there is no way that we can ever truly know what he was thinking, why he chose to end his life or why he chose to do so in the way that he did.
All we can do is to try to be more sensitive to those around us and more aware of their calls for help – whether they call be more obvious or more oblique and implicative.
We can ensure that those in our lives always do mean something to us – always can affect us – hopefully for better rather than worse. In doing so, we can not only help prevent people feeling the need to be noticed at all costs, but we can also make it so that the same people haven't given up on life to begin with, or on their role within that life.
Rather than getting home that day at 2:00 in the afternoon, I got home around 3:15. It really was a pain in the ass, but in the big picture it was nothing compared to a person who felt that his life was so irrelevant, or helpless or anonymous that suicide was his only way out.
I'm happy to give up an hour and a half of my time any day of the week to be reminded how much I love living and that I actually do matter to some people. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
That's always a pain in the ass, and usually a good excuse for me to get upset at IsraelRail, or anyone else that I can blame for disrupting my day so inconsiderately.
But then they made the announcement explaining the delay and apologizing for it, and I found that I really couldn't stay angry or point a finger of blame anymore.
It turns out that somebody committed suicide at the station in Herzliya, about 4 stations before mine in Tel Aviv, and that was delaying north- and south-bound trains while the authorities were dealing with what needed to be dealt with.
A couple of people who were also waiting were half-joking with each other about how inconsiderate it was (and a couple of others made a comment to that effect on my Facebook page when I posted the status update about what had happened). They asked "why did he have to do it in a way that's such an inconvenience to others" If you want to kill yourself, do it quietly – at home, out of everyone's way…"
I couldn't bring myself to say that – or to even think it. Instead, I tried to understand what would make a person kill themselves in that public a manner.
Now, of course, I'm not a psychologist (and I don't even play one on TV). I took a couple of psych classes a lifetime and a half ago at the University of Maryland, and the most I got out of that was learning all about Classical Conditioning / Pavlov's Dog.
So, although I am far from being an expert on the human mind, like many people, I do make a regular practice at trying to understand people – in my own non-professional, non-expert fashion.
So I couldn't help trying to figure out this suicide at a train station which threw the schedule of hundreds, in not thousands of people out of whack.
I've heard it said (as most likely we all have) that a suicide attempt is a cry for attention and for help. If that's the case, then I would imagine that the person attempting suicide does not to succeed, only to send out the message.
So what does that say about somebody who does do it to succeed? Especially in such a public manner that affects so many others who didn't even know the person?
The only thing that I can think of (and again, I cannot emphasize enough that this these are the thoughts of an un-trained layman – anybody with other insights to the question and ,ore experience than I have are more than welcome to share their thoughts), is that the person is going out with a message to the world.
Rather than the message of the failed attempts of "help me!" this message is more along the lines that "Not only do I have nothing to live for, but in my life I saw myself as a nobody – because I went un-noticed by the world. Maybe I won't be missed after I'm gone, but at least for this one brief hour or two, I will be noticed. I will have an effect on other people's lives".
Not only am I not a trained psychologist with no "real" experience upon which to base this assumption, but I also do not pretend to be a mind reader, and I don't really presume to understand what goes inside somebody else's head. The best I can do is to try to imagine myself in that situation and to guess what would drive me to such an act.
Unfortunately, since the person who did it last week is now dead, there is no way that we can ever truly know what he was thinking, why he chose to end his life or why he chose to do so in the way that he did.
All we can do is to try to be more sensitive to those around us and more aware of their calls for help – whether they call be more obvious or more oblique and implicative.
We can ensure that those in our lives always do mean something to us – always can affect us – hopefully for better rather than worse. In doing so, we can not only help prevent people feeling the need to be noticed at all costs, but we can also make it so that the same people haven't given up on life to begin with, or on their role within that life.
Rather than getting home that day at 2:00 in the afternoon, I got home around 3:15. It really was a pain in the ass, but in the big picture it was nothing compared to a person who felt that his life was so irrelevant, or helpless or anonymous that suicide was his only way out.
I'm happy to give up an hour and a half of my time any day of the week to be reminded how much I love living and that I actually do matter to some people. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Celebrating the Milestone of Milestones
This week marks a very special anniversary of sorts for me – and it's one that I get to celebrate / commemorate at 3 different times.
It was 9 years ago this week – by the Hebrew calendar it fell on Tuesday, by the Gregorian calendar it will be next Wednesday that I moved into a new reality for life – that of being a father.
Not just a father – but a Daddy, an Abba.
That isn’t to say that it's been all fun and games. There is no shortage of times that she can really drive me crazy, and there's no shortage of times when my parenting "skills" (and occasionally the lack thereof) leave more than a little to be desired. But in the bigger picture, I think there have been far more happy times than sad, loving moments than angry ones, smiles and laughter than tears.
You've seen that t-shirt / bumper sticker / coffee mug, right? The one that says "Any man can be a father, but it takes a special someone to be a Daddy". I never appreciated how true that is until my daughter was born.
Actually – not even then, but rather several months later when she started developing and showing her own personality and I was able to relate to her as a little person rather than a pooping machine.
She was born on Shabbat in the afternoon, the weekly Torah portion read that morning in synagogues around the world was VaYeshev, which was the portion we just read this past Shabbat. It was funny how the Torah reading brought back memories, because it was of memories that weren't there – the day Revital was born I didn't make it to services to hear the Torah.
Sharon had gone into labor on Friday night after Shabbat dinner. I think it started around 10:00 or so, but she didn't wake me up until the pain started getting bad at around midnight. Since we had been very attentive students in our Birthing Class, we knew that it wasn't yet time to go to the hospital – it was time for hot bath, timing the contractions, timing in between the contractions, practicing breathing properly (Sharon, too…) and massaging her lower back ant various times throughout the night.
Somehow in the morning, Sharon had a long enough "quiet" period so I was able to say my Morning Prayer service – obviously not going to the synagogue that morning and finally at 9:30 Shabbat morning, the signs that we learned in our Birthing Class were there and we called an ambulance (we didn't have a car at the time) and we checked in to the hospital at about 10:00.
Then came the waiting.
And then…more waiting.
Then I went down for some lunch in the cafeteria, and hit the hospital synagogue (one of the things I love about living in Israel is that there ARE hospital synagogues) for the afternoon services, then back to Sharon, for some more waiting.
Finally, she was dilated enough, and I won't go into all the gory details, but at 3:20 Shabbat afternoon, I was given my daughter to hold.
All of the stories you hear about the power, the beauty, the magic, the amazing overwhelming emotions of holding your newborn for the first time – for those who have yet to experience it, I can tell you that they're true.
Then they took her away from me.
It is standard procedure here to put all newborns in an incubator for a couple of hours, especially when the birthing is a little out of the ordinary (again – no details, but they performed a vacuum birth) so off she went, leaving me and Sharon alone with a little time to catch our breath.
Now we had time to discuss what we were going to call this little peanut.
We didn't know before the birth whether the baby was a boy or a girl (fortunately as soon as she was born we were able to figure it out pretty quickly), so we had a couple of names at the ready (although Sharon's condition for the names was that she kept the right to change her mind if she didn't feel that the name "fit".
The girl's name we had pre-picked was Revital, which means "saturated with / an abundance of dew", and after looking at her we decided that the name fit – she "looked" like a Revital. But we hadn't even thought about a middle name (very American of us, I know – no matter how long I'm in Israel, there are still some very American things about me).
So now was the time to talk about it. Sharon asked what the Torah portion was that Shabbat, and I had to think about it for a minute since I hadn't been to synagogue.
Then she asked me what happened in it, which was also a challenge to remember. But then I got it – one of the "highlights" of the portion (there really is a lot of meat in this particular one) is the story of Tamar and Yehuda (Judah).
It's too long a story for me to go into here and now, although it's a great story and I encourage you to glance at it yourselves – Genesis Chapter 38. The bottom line is that Tamar is one of my favorite personalities in the entire Torah. In my opinion, she's a woman who sees the clear difference between right and wrong, and will first give others the chance to do what's right with her, but if they don't do it, then she takes the initiative and pushes them into doing the right thing.
The added significance is in her name, which means date palm. The date palm grows in the desert – where there is almost no water, yet it grows very tall, very strong and bears a very sweet fruit.
So too Tamar from this story. She grew up in a place without much "water" which is a common analogy for Torah – meaning that grew up in a place where there was not much righteousness, or fear of God, yet she was strong and upright, like the date palm, and she also bore the sweetest of fruit. According to Jewish tradition the line of the Messiah is descended from the union of Tamar and Judah.
When Sharon and I talked about this, we realized that we had the perfect middle name for our daughter.
There is an idea among some Jews which one of my rabbis once taught me that the naming of a child is the only form of prophecy left in the world.
We name our children either for people whom we want to remember, or with names that have some kind of meaning that speaks to us. When we give these names, we are essentially wishing for our children the traits represented by the meaning of the name or the person whom we wish to remember.
For Revital Tamar, our hope for her is that she should never know lack of water – that is to say always have an "abundance of dew" and that like her biblical namesake, she may grow up upright and strong, with the sense of right vs. wrong and the courage to do what's right – no matter what the risks.
She may have looked like a Conehead for the first few months (courtesy of the vacuum birth), but we wished – that her head is in the right place to see and do what's right – no matter what others say and think.
One last note – regarding both Revital and our younger daughter Limor. They were both Chanukah-season babies. Revital was born 2 days before Chanukah, and Limor 6 days after it. So the holiday that began tonight is the time that both of my girls came into my life. And like the candles of Chanukah, they continue to give our lives a shining light.
The darker a place is, the brighter the light in it are. No matter how dark things sometimes seem around me, these two little lights make everything as bright as a sunny day.
It was 9 years ago this week – by the Hebrew calendar it fell on Tuesday, by the Gregorian calendar it will be next Wednesday that I moved into a new reality for life – that of being a father.
Not just a father – but a Daddy, an Abba.
That isn’t to say that it's been all fun and games. There is no shortage of times that she can really drive me crazy, and there's no shortage of times when my parenting "skills" (and occasionally the lack thereof) leave more than a little to be desired. But in the bigger picture, I think there have been far more happy times than sad, loving moments than angry ones, smiles and laughter than tears.
You've seen that t-shirt / bumper sticker / coffee mug, right? The one that says "Any man can be a father, but it takes a special someone to be a Daddy". I never appreciated how true that is until my daughter was born.
Actually – not even then, but rather several months later when she started developing and showing her own personality and I was able to relate to her as a little person rather than a pooping machine.
She was born on Shabbat in the afternoon, the weekly Torah portion read that morning in synagogues around the world was VaYeshev, which was the portion we just read this past Shabbat. It was funny how the Torah reading brought back memories, because it was of memories that weren't there – the day Revital was born I didn't make it to services to hear the Torah.
Sharon had gone into labor on Friday night after Shabbat dinner. I think it started around 10:00 or so, but she didn't wake me up until the pain started getting bad at around midnight. Since we had been very attentive students in our Birthing Class, we knew that it wasn't yet time to go to the hospital – it was time for hot bath, timing the contractions, timing in between the contractions, practicing breathing properly (Sharon, too…) and massaging her lower back ant various times throughout the night.
Somehow in the morning, Sharon had a long enough "quiet" period so I was able to say my Morning Prayer service – obviously not going to the synagogue that morning and finally at 9:30 Shabbat morning, the signs that we learned in our Birthing Class were there and we called an ambulance (we didn't have a car at the time) and we checked in to the hospital at about 10:00.
Then came the waiting.
And then…more waiting.
Then I went down for some lunch in the cafeteria, and hit the hospital synagogue (one of the things I love about living in Israel is that there ARE hospital synagogues) for the afternoon services, then back to Sharon, for some more waiting.
Finally, she was dilated enough, and I won't go into all the gory details, but at 3:20 Shabbat afternoon, I was given my daughter to hold.
All of the stories you hear about the power, the beauty, the magic, the amazing overwhelming emotions of holding your newborn for the first time – for those who have yet to experience it, I can tell you that they're true.
Then they took her away from me.
It is standard procedure here to put all newborns in an incubator for a couple of hours, especially when the birthing is a little out of the ordinary (again – no details, but they performed a vacuum birth) so off she went, leaving me and Sharon alone with a little time to catch our breath.
Now we had time to discuss what we were going to call this little peanut.
We didn't know before the birth whether the baby was a boy or a girl (fortunately as soon as she was born we were able to figure it out pretty quickly), so we had a couple of names at the ready (although Sharon's condition for the names was that she kept the right to change her mind if she didn't feel that the name "fit".
The girl's name we had pre-picked was Revital, which means "saturated with / an abundance of dew", and after looking at her we decided that the name fit – she "looked" like a Revital. But we hadn't even thought about a middle name (very American of us, I know – no matter how long I'm in Israel, there are still some very American things about me).
So now was the time to talk about it. Sharon asked what the Torah portion was that Shabbat, and I had to think about it for a minute since I hadn't been to synagogue.
Then she asked me what happened in it, which was also a challenge to remember. But then I got it – one of the "highlights" of the portion (there really is a lot of meat in this particular one) is the story of Tamar and Yehuda (Judah).
It's too long a story for me to go into here and now, although it's a great story and I encourage you to glance at it yourselves – Genesis Chapter 38. The bottom line is that Tamar is one of my favorite personalities in the entire Torah. In my opinion, she's a woman who sees the clear difference between right and wrong, and will first give others the chance to do what's right with her, but if they don't do it, then she takes the initiative and pushes them into doing the right thing.
The added significance is in her name, which means date palm. The date palm grows in the desert – where there is almost no water, yet it grows very tall, very strong and bears a very sweet fruit.
So too Tamar from this story. She grew up in a place without much "water" which is a common analogy for Torah – meaning that grew up in a place where there was not much righteousness, or fear of God, yet she was strong and upright, like the date palm, and she also bore the sweetest of fruit. According to Jewish tradition the line of the Messiah is descended from the union of Tamar and Judah.
When Sharon and I talked about this, we realized that we had the perfect middle name for our daughter.
There is an idea among some Jews which one of my rabbis once taught me that the naming of a child is the only form of prophecy left in the world.
We name our children either for people whom we want to remember, or with names that have some kind of meaning that speaks to us. When we give these names, we are essentially wishing for our children the traits represented by the meaning of the name or the person whom we wish to remember.
For Revital Tamar, our hope for her is that she should never know lack of water – that is to say always have an "abundance of dew" and that like her biblical namesake, she may grow up upright and strong, with the sense of right vs. wrong and the courage to do what's right – no matter what the risks.
She may have looked like a Conehead for the first few months (courtesy of the vacuum birth), but we wished – that her head is in the right place to see and do what's right – no matter what others say and think.
One last note – regarding both Revital and our younger daughter Limor. They were both Chanukah-season babies. Revital was born 2 days before Chanukah, and Limor 6 days after it. So the holiday that began tonight is the time that both of my girls came into my life. And like the candles of Chanukah, they continue to give our lives a shining light.
The darker a place is, the brighter the light in it are. No matter how dark things sometimes seem around me, these two little lights make everything as bright as a sunny day.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Considering the Source
I would love to be famous someday. It really doesn't matter what I'd be famous for, I would just need to be famous.
Why, you ask, do I want to famous?
It's not to be rich. I don't really need or want the headaches and pressures that go with that (although being out of overdraft occasionally might be nice …)
It's also not to be recognized whenever I walk down the street. Truth be told – I would absolutely hate the lifetime loss of privacy.
No. The reason that I would love to be famous is because being famous somehow magically transforms ordinary schmoes into experts – on everything. If you're famous, your opinion matters. Period.
Need a little proof? Look at Steven Slater. Remember him?
Quick memory refresher:
Steven Slater was the flight attendant on JetBlue that flipped out because a passenger was rude to him and accidentally bopped him on the head with her luggage.
So good old Steve – with his 20 years (!!) of experience as a flight attendant, reacted the way any of us would react. He cursed the woman out over the plane's intercom system, deployed the emergency evacuation slide (extremely dangerous and extremely lucky that there didn't happen to be any ground crew members near the plane at the time), grabbed a few beers (brilliant move – he describes himself as a "recovering alcoholic" – although he also admitted that he had "a sip or two" on the day in question) and made his escape into the sunset.
Slater actually got off much easier than he deserved. For all of his drinking, and endangering of people's lives, the final "price" that he paid was a sweet deal in which he pleaded guilty to second-degree attempted criminal mischief (felony), and fourth-degree attempted criminal mischief (misdemeanor).
For agreeing to plead guilty (which was a no-brainer considering there was no question of his guilt from the beginning), he has to enter a one-year mental health program, including treatment for substance abuse, take certain medications, and pay all of $10,000 in fine to JetBlue for the cost of repairing or replacing the chute.
Not bad, huh? While $10K may seem a bit much steep for a guy who earned less than that last year, on the bright side – Slater recently appeared in an ad for a mobile communication application doing a rap, he was published in the New York Post this week offering (what else?) travel tips for Thanksgiving travelers, and he has signed with a book agency to write a book about his 20 years of experience as a flight attendant.
And I have no doubt this book will sell very well. Not because Steven Slater is a wonderful writer (he may well be, but that's irrelevant). Not even because his vast experience on the job makes him uniquely qualified to share with the general public (in hardback form) the trials and tribulations of such a thankless job.
No – this book will sell, because Steven Slater is famous. No other reason. Never mind that the reason he's famous is that he lost his cool and was an enormous horse's ass. He's famous, so people give a damn what he has to say, and that means that we don't have to lose too much sleep over the $10,000 Steve Slater will have to pay. I'm sure he'll manage just fine.
What I love about this is that it means that to be famous, I don't need any special skills or talents. I don't need to have something special or positive to offer the world which they couldn't find anywhere else. I just have to do something. Anything.
Seriously – how cool would that be? I could become famous for – I dunno – streaking on the field at Half Time of the Super Bowl (don't worry - I'm really not planning on doing it). I would be arrested, and there would articles about me in newspapers around the world, there would talk shows, interviews, possibly even a book deal – and as soon as I have the world giving even a little bit of credence to whatever it is that I have to say, I could talk about politics, or peace in the Middle East, and I can guarantee you, I would be quoted for my views.
"Asher Zeiger believes that President Obama should…." And why would people be interested in my point of view? Because I'm the guy that went streaking across the 50-year line during the halftime show at the Super Bowl!
What more expert qualifications could I possibly need?
This is nothing new – we've seen for years the "authority" which we bestow upon actors, singers, writers, athletes on political questions (and that they all too often bestow upon themselves as well).
Don't get me wrong – I am all for stars putting their celebrity to good use by raising awareness for causes. But that's very different than using the platform awarded them for their artistic success as a soapbox to preach and teach morality and geopolitics to us.
I will admit that I have a personal sensitivity to this issue. Israel and the peace process are always very fertile ground for artists to take their stands, and this year alone, several high profile rock-n-rollers have cancelled scheduled performances in Israel, ostensibly to express their disapproval of our handling of the situation with the Palestinians. As the situation here has been pretty much the same for several years, I have no idea why these artists agreed to visit Israel in the first place, only to cancel as the tour dates grew near. Better to simply not come, don't sell tickets and don't get fans' hopes up. But that's a topic for another (very long) blog.
On November 24, the Jerusalem Post ran a story by the European Jewish Press reporting that "100 famous Norwegians" have called for a complete academic and cultural boycott of Israel.
Let's start by saying that I am assuming these 100 Norwegians are famous in Norway, but not too far beyond their borders.
The group was led by Egil Drillo Olsen, Norway's national football coach. He was quoted as saying the boycott is "in line with what 90% of the world's population believes".
Really, Mr. Olsen? 90%? Is that based on a scientific survey or is it just your expert opinion based on the vast geo-political experience you have gained as a football coach?
Now, if the survey was conducted in Middle Eastern countries with names that do not rhyme with Bisrael, then 90% is probably an accurate representation of the world's views on academic and cultural boycotts of Israel. But the rest of world? I'm a little dubious of your statistics.
Of course, the real irony is that in Israel (as in most of the world), the majority of academic and cultural figures lean politically a bit left-of-center. So boycotts like this are primarily targeting the figures who agree with the political stance (although not with the methods), so a boycott of this nature is, if anything, counterproductive.
But that doesn't matter. Why? Because in Norway, Egil Drillo Olsen is famous, so it really matters what he says about issues which are completely unrelated to his area of expertise (namely: football/soccer).
Because with fame comes a tacit understanding from the general public that you know what you're talking about (Kanye West notwithstanding).
I've never been a musical fan of Ozzy Osbourne – not when he was the frontman for Black Sabbath, and not as a solo artist. I was also never interested in his reality show either.
Nevertheless, I absolutely loved that he performed in Israel a couple of months ago. Granted – he's not the only one who has amidst all of the boycotts. Paul McCartney was recently here, as was Joe Cocker, Jethro Tull, and others. But what I loved about Ozzy is that he specifically said that he refuses to talk politics because he's a singer – and therefore doesn't know anything about politics. He also had some very choice (adult-content) words for those people who throw art and music into the political arena.
What a concept – a singer, who says that he's a singer, and therefore not in a place to preach about things that he may not understand so well. A singer who uses his stage and microphone for – hold on to your seats here - singing. Who ever heard of such a thing?
For my part, I would love to get people to understand that being famous does not automatically mean that a person has anything interesting or worthwhile to say. And if they actually do – it's not necessarily connected to their fame.
How's this for a mind-boggling conundrum? It seems that I need to become famous so that people will listen to me say that they shouldn't automatically give credence to the opinions of famous people.
I'm not sure how I'll do it, but just in case, you should think about skipping the Half Time show at this year's Super Bowl…
Why, you ask, do I want to famous?
It's not to be rich. I don't really need or want the headaches and pressures that go with that (although being out of overdraft occasionally might be nice …)
It's also not to be recognized whenever I walk down the street. Truth be told – I would absolutely hate the lifetime loss of privacy.
No. The reason that I would love to be famous is because being famous somehow magically transforms ordinary schmoes into experts – on everything. If you're famous, your opinion matters. Period.
Need a little proof? Look at Steven Slater. Remember him?
Quick memory refresher:
Steven Slater was the flight attendant on JetBlue that flipped out because a passenger was rude to him and accidentally bopped him on the head with her luggage.
So good old Steve – with his 20 years (!!) of experience as a flight attendant, reacted the way any of us would react. He cursed the woman out over the plane's intercom system, deployed the emergency evacuation slide (extremely dangerous and extremely lucky that there didn't happen to be any ground crew members near the plane at the time), grabbed a few beers (brilliant move – he describes himself as a "recovering alcoholic" – although he also admitted that he had "a sip or two" on the day in question) and made his escape into the sunset.
Slater actually got off much easier than he deserved. For all of his drinking, and endangering of people's lives, the final "price" that he paid was a sweet deal in which he pleaded guilty to second-degree attempted criminal mischief (felony), and fourth-degree attempted criminal mischief (misdemeanor).
For agreeing to plead guilty (which was a no-brainer considering there was no question of his guilt from the beginning), he has to enter a one-year mental health program, including treatment for substance abuse, take certain medications, and pay all of $10,000 in fine to JetBlue for the cost of repairing or replacing the chute.
Not bad, huh? While $10K may seem a bit much steep for a guy who earned less than that last year, on the bright side – Slater recently appeared in an ad for a mobile communication application doing a rap, he was published in the New York Post this week offering (what else?) travel tips for Thanksgiving travelers, and he has signed with a book agency to write a book about his 20 years of experience as a flight attendant.
And I have no doubt this book will sell very well. Not because Steven Slater is a wonderful writer (he may well be, but that's irrelevant). Not even because his vast experience on the job makes him uniquely qualified to share with the general public (in hardback form) the trials and tribulations of such a thankless job.
No – this book will sell, because Steven Slater is famous. No other reason. Never mind that the reason he's famous is that he lost his cool and was an enormous horse's ass. He's famous, so people give a damn what he has to say, and that means that we don't have to lose too much sleep over the $10,000 Steve Slater will have to pay. I'm sure he'll manage just fine.
What I love about this is that it means that to be famous, I don't need any special skills or talents. I don't need to have something special or positive to offer the world which they couldn't find anywhere else. I just have to do something. Anything.
Seriously – how cool would that be? I could become famous for – I dunno – streaking on the field at Half Time of the Super Bowl (don't worry - I'm really not planning on doing it). I would be arrested, and there would articles about me in newspapers around the world, there would talk shows, interviews, possibly even a book deal – and as soon as I have the world giving even a little bit of credence to whatever it is that I have to say, I could talk about politics, or peace in the Middle East, and I can guarantee you, I would be quoted for my views.
"Asher Zeiger believes that President Obama should…." And why would people be interested in my point of view? Because I'm the guy that went streaking across the 50-year line during the halftime show at the Super Bowl!
What more expert qualifications could I possibly need?
This is nothing new – we've seen for years the "authority" which we bestow upon actors, singers, writers, athletes on political questions (and that they all too often bestow upon themselves as well).
Don't get me wrong – I am all for stars putting their celebrity to good use by raising awareness for causes. But that's very different than using the platform awarded them for their artistic success as a soapbox to preach and teach morality and geopolitics to us.
I will admit that I have a personal sensitivity to this issue. Israel and the peace process are always very fertile ground for artists to take their stands, and this year alone, several high profile rock-n-rollers have cancelled scheduled performances in Israel, ostensibly to express their disapproval of our handling of the situation with the Palestinians. As the situation here has been pretty much the same for several years, I have no idea why these artists agreed to visit Israel in the first place, only to cancel as the tour dates grew near. Better to simply not come, don't sell tickets and don't get fans' hopes up. But that's a topic for another (very long) blog.
On November 24, the Jerusalem Post ran a story by the European Jewish Press reporting that "100 famous Norwegians" have called for a complete academic and cultural boycott of Israel.
Let's start by saying that I am assuming these 100 Norwegians are famous in Norway, but not too far beyond their borders.
The group was led by Egil Drillo Olsen, Norway's national football coach. He was quoted as saying the boycott is "in line with what 90% of the world's population believes".
Really, Mr. Olsen? 90%? Is that based on a scientific survey or is it just your expert opinion based on the vast geo-political experience you have gained as a football coach?
Now, if the survey was conducted in Middle Eastern countries with names that do not rhyme with Bisrael, then 90% is probably an accurate representation of the world's views on academic and cultural boycotts of Israel. But the rest of world? I'm a little dubious of your statistics.
Of course, the real irony is that in Israel (as in most of the world), the majority of academic and cultural figures lean politically a bit left-of-center. So boycotts like this are primarily targeting the figures who agree with the political stance (although not with the methods), so a boycott of this nature is, if anything, counterproductive.
But that doesn't matter. Why? Because in Norway, Egil Drillo Olsen is famous, so it really matters what he says about issues which are completely unrelated to his area of expertise (namely: football/soccer).
Because with fame comes a tacit understanding from the general public that you know what you're talking about (Kanye West notwithstanding).
I've never been a musical fan of Ozzy Osbourne – not when he was the frontman for Black Sabbath, and not as a solo artist. I was also never interested in his reality show either.
Nevertheless, I absolutely loved that he performed in Israel a couple of months ago. Granted – he's not the only one who has amidst all of the boycotts. Paul McCartney was recently here, as was Joe Cocker, Jethro Tull, and others. But what I loved about Ozzy is that he specifically said that he refuses to talk politics because he's a singer – and therefore doesn't know anything about politics. He also had some very choice (adult-content) words for those people who throw art and music into the political arena.
What a concept – a singer, who says that he's a singer, and therefore not in a place to preach about things that he may not understand so well. A singer who uses his stage and microphone for – hold on to your seats here - singing. Who ever heard of such a thing?
For my part, I would love to get people to understand that being famous does not automatically mean that a person has anything interesting or worthwhile to say. And if they actually do – it's not necessarily connected to their fame.
How's this for a mind-boggling conundrum? It seems that I need to become famous so that people will listen to me say that they shouldn't automatically give credence to the opinions of famous people.
I'm not sure how I'll do it, but just in case, you should think about skipping the Half Time show at this year's Super Bowl…
Friday, November 19, 2010
Blowing the whistle in Rock and Roll
Anybody who knows me even a little bit knows that I am a huge fan of Blues and Classic Rock.
And if you've visited my home – or spent more than – oh I dunno, say 10 minutes talking to me in real life (as opposed to all conversations being relegated to internet chat/IM) then you know that I have a pretty respectable music collection at home (and on my iPod) – close to 1800 albums between discs and (showing my age here) cassettes.
And if you've ever discussed music with me a little more in depth then you know that that of all the music I have, I listen to and I love, if I was forced to pick a single absolute favorite artist, it would probably be The Who.
So, this morning, the music that I chose to accompany me and put me in a good mood during my train ride to work was Another Scoop, an absolutely wonderful solo album by Pete Townshend, the very highly regarded guitarist and song writer for The Who.
This is one of 4 albums that Pete has which were compilations of his own private demo recordings throughout the years in his private studio – and his musical genius really shines through (at least to my mind).
One of my favorite songs on this album is Football Fugue, and a couple of things really stand out about it.
First of all – the music alone really grabs me. Hard to explain, but I just love the tune.
Even better than the tune, is the lyrics. Most classic rock aficionados acknowledge Pete Townshend as one of the premier lyricists of the generation (talkin' about his (My) Generation).
But beyond his normally insightful, poetic, beautiful song writing magic, this song is also hysterically funny.
He's drawing a comparison to watching an orchestra perform and watching a football game (he's British, so for the Yanks here read: soccer). It is extremely clever and a lot of fun.
With this song on my brain (and subsequently over and over again on my iPod) for so much of the day, I decided this evening to look up the lyrics online because there are some that I'm sure I'm not quite getting.
Here are the lyrics as I found them online. Read along as you listen to the song, then tell me if I'm going crazy or did every single website that I found with the lyrics have absolutely no idea what this song is about? I've numbered the lines to make the discussion a little bit easier.
Listen here…
Football Fugue
(Pete Townshend and Ted Astley, Tower Tunes, BMI)
1. I was listen to a guitar, bass drum thing
2. Started hearing chest screech, thought I had a gut strength
3. Then I saw a big band, right on the pavement
4. Violins and heavy boots, wondering where the wave went
5. You! What? I'm talking to you, Your wearing the wrong colored scarf
6. So what? Well you're playing your tune, to the Tarrence enemy Hauf
7. Hey you! What? I'm talking to you, Concentrate on the game
8. What for? Well the whistle just blew, the conductors going to complain
9. Play the song, on the wall, come on pass me the ball
10. Don't let the violinist trouble your playing
11. Fierce looking people, but their managers gay
12. Syncopation to the sound of the ball
13. Trouble with the ref on in the concert hall
14. Hey you! What? That cellist was found, that conductor must be blind
15. It's a girl! Whew! Oh look at the crowd, This session's run to extra time
16. Sit back, face off the senior, doesn't walk alone
17. Music has arrived at the football stadium
18. A logical step would be spears at the Palladium
19. Fifty thousand watts screaming out for a goal
20. Why don't they blow a whistle in rock and roll
21. Hey you! What? Get back to your seat. The song has only just begun
22. So what? We need two encores to beat, and the band is faced to run
23. Hey you! What? Get down off of the wire, the spirit of the game's still strong
24. Say's who? Well I'll never talk, kicking my piano along
25. All you fans of the score, if you give a show of support, will….win
First of all, even with the lyrics in front of me there are a couple of lines that I'm still not sure of (specifically Lines #2 and .#6 – if anyone can decipher those for me I would be grateful).
Now, I understand, accept and respect that very often, lyrics found online are not the "official" lyrics released by the songwriter or the record company, but rather transcribed by a fan/listener, and prone to the occasional human error. That's fine with me. I know that I also often mis-hear and mis-represent song lyrics.
But what made this something that I felt the need to Ramble about was really two things here.
The first is the sheer quantity of lyrics that seem to be wrong – sometimes grotesquely so. We're not talking about one or two mistakes here – we're talking almost every other line! And some of these mistakes are more blatant than the foul on the football field!
The second thing that I just don't get is why these same poorly transcribed lyrics are on every single lyrics site that I saw!
In all fairness there may well be several sites with better versions of the lyrics – but I stopped looking after the first 9 or 10 that I checked all had pretty much the same.
Does nobody care about quality control in rock and roll anymore????
As I already said – I have no idea what Line #2 says but I'm pretty sure that it's not what's written above. Same goes for Line #6.
Line #10 is a pretty simple mis-hearing. It should be "Don't let the violinists trouble your play". Not one of the big deals, but still, let's get things right.
Lines #14 and #15 are two of the primary lines that make me wonder if the person (or people) transcribing this had any clue what the song was about.
I mean come on!!! The cellist was found??? FOUND??? If it's a football game, and the very next thing he says is "the conductor must be blind" Isn't it pretty obvious that the line should read "That cellist was fouled?
The next line – It's a girl??? What happened – the guy went to a football game / concert and a birth broke out??? IT'S A GOAL! (Hullo McFly!!) This also explains the next line "this session's run to extra time".
Line #16 is another one that I can't decipher, but I'm pretty sure it starts "Sit back or piss off" and says absolutely nothing about seniors walking alone.
I have a feeling that "spears" in Line # 18 is supposed to be Spurs (the name of a British football team), but I could be wrong about that one.
Line # 22 also made me laugh out loud here – "We need two encores to beat (IMHO that line is Townshend at his brilliant best!), and the band is faced to run? Do any of you have a clue what that means??
Me neither, but I bet if you read the line the way it sounded to me – "We need two encores to beat, and the band needs space to run" then it would make a lot more sense, no...?
Line #24 – I'd be pretty willing to bet that he says "I'll never tire of kicking my piano along" which is more in line with the whole football analogy and sounds much better (and smarter) than "I'll never talk, kicking my piano around".
And of course, if the person/people responsible for the transcribing here already had so many wonderfully entertaining errors, it would be a shame to not finish out the song with a bang – so they have two mistakes in the song's final line! I've never heard of "fans of the score", but it just might be that Pete was singing "fans of the sport".
And finally – fans of the sport (or score) if you show the support, then you will win? I don't think so...
The line should read " if you give a show of support we'll win" – as in, fans in most sports tend to use the first person plural when describing their teams' success – as though they get part of the credit. And this line in the song is meant to be a jab at the idea that fans showing enough support for their team can affect the outcome of the game.
I honestly don't get how it is that I can hear and understand so many lines in the song one way, and a dozen websites all see those same lyrics differently. And nobody who has used these sites has noticed that there is something (actually several somethings) that makes no sense.
As ridiculous as it is, it still doesn't take away from the beauty of the song and the brilliance of the writing. But I'd still love your help in figuring out the lines that I don't get.
Anyone, anyone.....?
And if you've visited my home – or spent more than – oh I dunno, say 10 minutes talking to me in real life (as opposed to all conversations being relegated to internet chat/IM) then you know that I have a pretty respectable music collection at home (and on my iPod) – close to 1800 albums between discs and (showing my age here) cassettes.
And if you've ever discussed music with me a little more in depth then you know that that of all the music I have, I listen to and I love, if I was forced to pick a single absolute favorite artist, it would probably be The Who.
So, this morning, the music that I chose to accompany me and put me in a good mood during my train ride to work was Another Scoop, an absolutely wonderful solo album by Pete Townshend, the very highly regarded guitarist and song writer for The Who.
This is one of 4 albums that Pete has which were compilations of his own private demo recordings throughout the years in his private studio – and his musical genius really shines through (at least to my mind).
One of my favorite songs on this album is Football Fugue, and a couple of things really stand out about it.
First of all – the music alone really grabs me. Hard to explain, but I just love the tune.
Even better than the tune, is the lyrics. Most classic rock aficionados acknowledge Pete Townshend as one of the premier lyricists of the generation (talkin' about his (My) Generation).
But beyond his normally insightful, poetic, beautiful song writing magic, this song is also hysterically funny.
He's drawing a comparison to watching an orchestra perform and watching a football game (he's British, so for the Yanks here read: soccer). It is extremely clever and a lot of fun.
With this song on my brain (and subsequently over and over again on my iPod) for so much of the day, I decided this evening to look up the lyrics online because there are some that I'm sure I'm not quite getting.
Here are the lyrics as I found them online. Read along as you listen to the song, then tell me if I'm going crazy or did every single website that I found with the lyrics have absolutely no idea what this song is about? I've numbered the lines to make the discussion a little bit easier.
Listen here…
Football Fugue
(Pete Townshend and Ted Astley, Tower Tunes, BMI)
1. I was listen to a guitar, bass drum thing
2. Started hearing chest screech, thought I had a gut strength
3. Then I saw a big band, right on the pavement
4. Violins and heavy boots, wondering where the wave went
5. You! What? I'm talking to you, Your wearing the wrong colored scarf
6. So what? Well you're playing your tune, to the Tarrence enemy Hauf
7. Hey you! What? I'm talking to you, Concentrate on the game
8. What for? Well the whistle just blew, the conductors going to complain
9. Play the song, on the wall, come on pass me the ball
10. Don't let the violinist trouble your playing
11. Fierce looking people, but their managers gay
12. Syncopation to the sound of the ball
13. Trouble with the ref on in the concert hall
14. Hey you! What? That cellist was found, that conductor must be blind
15. It's a girl! Whew! Oh look at the crowd, This session's run to extra time
16. Sit back, face off the senior, doesn't walk alone
17. Music has arrived at the football stadium
18. A logical step would be spears at the Palladium
19. Fifty thousand watts screaming out for a goal
20. Why don't they blow a whistle in rock and roll
21. Hey you! What? Get back to your seat. The song has only just begun
22. So what? We need two encores to beat, and the band is faced to run
23. Hey you! What? Get down off of the wire, the spirit of the game's still strong
24. Say's who? Well I'll never talk, kicking my piano along
25. All you fans of the score, if you give a show of support, will….win
First of all, even with the lyrics in front of me there are a couple of lines that I'm still not sure of (specifically Lines #2 and .#6 – if anyone can decipher those for me I would be grateful).
Now, I understand, accept and respect that very often, lyrics found online are not the "official" lyrics released by the songwriter or the record company, but rather transcribed by a fan/listener, and prone to the occasional human error. That's fine with me. I know that I also often mis-hear and mis-represent song lyrics.
But what made this something that I felt the need to Ramble about was really two things here.
The first is the sheer quantity of lyrics that seem to be wrong – sometimes grotesquely so. We're not talking about one or two mistakes here – we're talking almost every other line! And some of these mistakes are more blatant than the foul on the football field!
The second thing that I just don't get is why these same poorly transcribed lyrics are on every single lyrics site that I saw!
In all fairness there may well be several sites with better versions of the lyrics – but I stopped looking after the first 9 or 10 that I checked all had pretty much the same.
Does nobody care about quality control in rock and roll anymore????
As I already said – I have no idea what Line #2 says but I'm pretty sure that it's not what's written above. Same goes for Line #6.
Line #10 is a pretty simple mis-hearing. It should be "Don't let the violinists trouble your play". Not one of the big deals, but still, let's get things right.
Lines #14 and #15 are two of the primary lines that make me wonder if the person (or people) transcribing this had any clue what the song was about.
I mean come on!!! The cellist was found??? FOUND??? If it's a football game, and the very next thing he says is "the conductor must be blind" Isn't it pretty obvious that the line should read "That cellist was fouled?
The next line – It's a girl??? What happened – the guy went to a football game / concert and a birth broke out??? IT'S A GOAL! (Hullo McFly!!) This also explains the next line "this session's run to extra time".
Line #16 is another one that I can't decipher, but I'm pretty sure it starts "Sit back or piss off" and says absolutely nothing about seniors walking alone.
I have a feeling that "spears" in Line # 18 is supposed to be Spurs (the name of a British football team), but I could be wrong about that one.
Line # 22 also made me laugh out loud here – "We need two encores to beat (IMHO that line is Townshend at his brilliant best!), and the band is faced to run? Do any of you have a clue what that means??
Me neither, but I bet if you read the line the way it sounded to me – "We need two encores to beat, and the band needs space to run" then it would make a lot more sense, no...?
Line #24 – I'd be pretty willing to bet that he says "I'll never tire of kicking my piano along" which is more in line with the whole football analogy and sounds much better (and smarter) than "I'll never talk, kicking my piano around".
And of course, if the person/people responsible for the transcribing here already had so many wonderfully entertaining errors, it would be a shame to not finish out the song with a bang – so they have two mistakes in the song's final line! I've never heard of "fans of the score", but it just might be that Pete was singing "fans of the sport".
And finally – fans of the sport (or score) if you show the support, then you will win? I don't think so...
The line should read " if you give a show of support we'll win" – as in, fans in most sports tend to use the first person plural when describing their teams' success – as though they get part of the credit. And this line in the song is meant to be a jab at the idea that fans showing enough support for their team can affect the outcome of the game.
I honestly don't get how it is that I can hear and understand so many lines in the song one way, and a dozen websites all see those same lyrics differently. And nobody who has used these sites has noticed that there is something (actually several somethings) that makes no sense.
As ridiculous as it is, it still doesn't take away from the beauty of the song and the brilliance of the writing. But I'd still love your help in figuring out the lines that I don't get.
Anyone, anyone.....?
Monday, November 15, 2010
Birth announcement
A baby was born today. Not a baby that cries, sleeps, poops and entices otherwise mature intelligent adults to deteriorate into babbling idiots.
This was my own baby.
My second one, actually.
There is a story behind it (isn't there always…?)
Since I started blogging in earnest a couple of months ago, two things have happened.
First is that I have received an incredible amount of very positive feedback regarding the blog itself and my writing. This has been a wonderful source of encouragement and I am eternally grateful to all of you for providing me with that extra push.
The second thing that has happened is that I have discovered exactly how much I really love the writing. It seems the more I write, the more I find that I truly need to write. And then write some more. The inner fulfillment that I have found through this venue of expression is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
As a result, I've made no secret about the fact that I would love to find some way to take this writing to the next step. Besides the blogging for my friends in which I am able to share some of my day-to-day life and the occasional "deeper" thoughts, I want to move into the realm of writing full-time – even making a living from it.
I have no illusions about how easy this will be (i.e. not at all), nor do I have any plans to quit my day job (not yet, anyway). But the search is on to allow this to launch a new career for me which I think I would really enjoy.
Last night I met a friend for coffee. Besides the fact that I always enjoy time spent with this particular friend, last night we had a specific purpose in mind. This friend has done a good deal of research of the whole world of blogging and of making a living through creative new websites, etc. and he suggested that we meet to discuss possible directions that I can take this, if I'm truly serious about writing full-time and professionally.
One of the most important things that he told me (as have several other friends) is that if I want to try to break through using the venue of a blog, that the successful bloggers are the ones with an identity which defines their blog. Their blogs are centered on a particular theme, and while they may occasionally stray ever-so-slightly, the successful blogs are the ones that focus on that theme.
Obviously the catch to this being able to offer an "identity" and a theme which isn't already being done by everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. The goal is to find a niche in which I can offer what isn't already being offered by multitudes of folks, most of whom are more knowledgeable than I am and better qualified to be the "voice" of whatever it is that they are proclaiming to be voice.
To add to the difficulty is actually something that I wrote in the introductory blog of Ramblings (read it here) is that (and I quote myself) "I am not and make no claims to be an "expert" on anything. My views on politics, social issues, child-rearing, history, and whatever else - are simply that - MY views. I haven't studied these things in the university, or written major research papers on them, or conducted in-depth surveys gathering comprehensive information. I am an every day John Q. Public, who keeps up with the news on a fairly regular basis, who reads some opinion pieces to get varying perspectives, and whose ideas have been shaped by his own experiences. No more and no less".
I still hold by that. I know my limitations – I am a reasonably intelligent person with a reasonable grasp of what's going on around me, but that certainly doesn't qualify me to be the "voice" of anything or anyone other than myself.
After spending a little more than an hour with this friend last night, and bouncing some ideas back and forth with him, I came home and thought a lot about what we discussed.
Besides quickly seeing the obvious point that his advice and thoughts were right on the money, I also thought about a bit of what we discussed in terms of what I would have to offer that's a little bit different – a bit off the proverbial beaten path.
One of my (very few) traits which I am proud is that I don't really fit into one of those nice, neat little labeled boxes. People will often try to pin me down and to define me – mostly religiously and politically, but in other areas as well.
And they usually can't do it.
I socialize in various circles – some of which are worlds apart from others, and while I'm usually able to fit in some form or fashion to each crowd which I hang, I also don't really fit any of the stereotypes of any of these circles – and thus, anyone thinking that they can finally "label" me finds that they're back at Square One.
I like that. And that is where I think I differ a little bit from everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. That's where perhaps – hopefully – I can offer something a little bit different.
That being said, it is with the pride of a new father that I announce today's birth of the younger sibling to Ramblings. Please feel free to come and meet Musings of a Monotype. Don't know what a "Monotype" is? Good – you shouldn't. Read the first entry of the new blog and you'll see – if not what a Monotype is, at least how I use the term.
This blog will be a more focused themed blog, and personally I am simultaneously excited, curious, and a bit nervous to see where it goes.
Of course, it is not at all my intention for this new blog to replace Ramblings. I have no doubt that as often as not I will still feel the need to ramble on about whatever is occupying my brain, and not with topics that are more fitting for the Monotype blog.
One thing about the Monotype blog that will be exactly what Ramblings attempts to be – all comments and thoughts are very welcome. If you agree with something I've written and you would like to tell me – that's wonderful. If you disagree with something I've and you want to share tell me that – that's great too.
I will never denigrate anybody's thoughts, ideas or opinions. I may disagree with you, in which case I'll tell you, while at the same time, recognizing the validity of your view, as well as the possibility that you may be right (and I may be crazy).
And I may be convinced by whatever you have to say.
My rule of thumb was also something that I wrote in the introductory Ramblings blog - I have no intention or interest in "converting" anybody to my way of thinking. I just want to express what I feel the need to express.
With that in mind – come on over to Musings of a Monotype and let's get ready to rock and roll….
This was my own baby.
My second one, actually.
There is a story behind it (isn't there always…?)
Since I started blogging in earnest a couple of months ago, two things have happened.
First is that I have received an incredible amount of very positive feedback regarding the blog itself and my writing. This has been a wonderful source of encouragement and I am eternally grateful to all of you for providing me with that extra push.
The second thing that has happened is that I have discovered exactly how much I really love the writing. It seems the more I write, the more I find that I truly need to write. And then write some more. The inner fulfillment that I have found through this venue of expression is unlike anything I have ever experienced.
As a result, I've made no secret about the fact that I would love to find some way to take this writing to the next step. Besides the blogging for my friends in which I am able to share some of my day-to-day life and the occasional "deeper" thoughts, I want to move into the realm of writing full-time – even making a living from it.
I have no illusions about how easy this will be (i.e. not at all), nor do I have any plans to quit my day job (not yet, anyway). But the search is on to allow this to launch a new career for me which I think I would really enjoy.
Last night I met a friend for coffee. Besides the fact that I always enjoy time spent with this particular friend, last night we had a specific purpose in mind. This friend has done a good deal of research of the whole world of blogging and of making a living through creative new websites, etc. and he suggested that we meet to discuss possible directions that I can take this, if I'm truly serious about writing full-time and professionally.
One of the most important things that he told me (as have several other friends) is that if I want to try to break through using the venue of a blog, that the successful bloggers are the ones with an identity which defines their blog. Their blogs are centered on a particular theme, and while they may occasionally stray ever-so-slightly, the successful blogs are the ones that focus on that theme.
Obviously the catch to this being able to offer an "identity" and a theme which isn't already being done by everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. The goal is to find a niche in which I can offer what isn't already being offered by multitudes of folks, most of whom are more knowledgeable than I am and better qualified to be the "voice" of whatever it is that they are proclaiming to be voice.
To add to the difficulty is actually something that I wrote in the introductory blog of Ramblings (read it here) is that (and I quote myself) "I am not and make no claims to be an "expert" on anything. My views on politics, social issues, child-rearing, history, and whatever else - are simply that - MY views. I haven't studied these things in the university, or written major research papers on them, or conducted in-depth surveys gathering comprehensive information. I am an every day John Q. Public, who keeps up with the news on a fairly regular basis, who reads some opinion pieces to get varying perspectives, and whose ideas have been shaped by his own experiences. No more and no less".
I still hold by that. I know my limitations – I am a reasonably intelligent person with a reasonable grasp of what's going on around me, but that certainly doesn't qualify me to be the "voice" of anything or anyone other than myself.
After spending a little more than an hour with this friend last night, and bouncing some ideas back and forth with him, I came home and thought a lot about what we discussed.
Besides quickly seeing the obvious point that his advice and thoughts were right on the money, I also thought about a bit of what we discussed in terms of what I would have to offer that's a little bit different – a bit off the proverbial beaten path.
One of my (very few) traits which I am proud is that I don't really fit into one of those nice, neat little labeled boxes. People will often try to pin me down and to define me – mostly religiously and politically, but in other areas as well.
And they usually can't do it.
I socialize in various circles – some of which are worlds apart from others, and while I'm usually able to fit in some form or fashion to each crowd which I hang, I also don't really fit any of the stereotypes of any of these circles – and thus, anyone thinking that they can finally "label" me finds that they're back at Square One.
I like that. And that is where I think I differ a little bit from everybody and their next-door-neighbor's Aunt Sally. That's where perhaps – hopefully – I can offer something a little bit different.
That being said, it is with the pride of a new father that I announce today's birth of the younger sibling to Ramblings. Please feel free to come and meet Musings of a Monotype. Don't know what a "Monotype" is? Good – you shouldn't. Read the first entry of the new blog and you'll see – if not what a Monotype is, at least how I use the term.
This blog will be a more focused themed blog, and personally I am simultaneously excited, curious, and a bit nervous to see where it goes.
Of course, it is not at all my intention for this new blog to replace Ramblings. I have no doubt that as often as not I will still feel the need to ramble on about whatever is occupying my brain, and not with topics that are more fitting for the Monotype blog.
One thing about the Monotype blog that will be exactly what Ramblings attempts to be – all comments and thoughts are very welcome. If you agree with something I've written and you would like to tell me – that's wonderful. If you disagree with something I've and you want to share tell me that – that's great too.
I will never denigrate anybody's thoughts, ideas or opinions. I may disagree with you, in which case I'll tell you, while at the same time, recognizing the validity of your view, as well as the possibility that you may be right (and I may be crazy).
And I may be convinced by whatever you have to say.
My rule of thumb was also something that I wrote in the introductory Ramblings blog - I have no intention or interest in "converting" anybody to my way of thinking. I just want to express what I feel the need to express.
With that in mind – come on over to Musings of a Monotype and let's get ready to rock and roll….
Sunday, November 14, 2010
High school lessons lost in life
This feels almost like a "confession of a baseball fan" of sorts, but I have to admit that I am, and always have been a Yankees fan. However – in my own defense, unlike most non-New Yorkers that follow the Bronx Bombers (that I know, at least), my love of them has nothing to do with how many times they have won the World Series, or how dominant they have been (on and off) for the last 30 years.
The year was 1972. It was one year before the George Steinbrenner era began, 10 years since the Yankees had last won a World Series (which was 2 years before I was born) and 5 years before they were to win their next one. So considering how mediocre they were when I started following them, it cannot be thought that I was jumping on the winner's bandwagon.
What actually made me a Yankees fan was my baseball card collection. One of the cards that I had was for the Yankees left fielder at the time, Bobby Murcer. I was 7 years old, and without knowing anything (yet) about this player, I thought he had a really cool sounding name, and in his baseball card picture he looked like a really nice guy. So, because of Bobby Murcer I became a Yankees fan.
I have stayed a Yankees fan because once I decide I love a team, it's for life – taking the good with the bad, and all that stuff.
However, I don't like the policy (started by George Steinbrenner when he became the Yankees owner, and continued to this day by the Yankees and many other teams) of pouring gazillions of dollars every year into buying the biggest names on the market, paying the highest total team salary in order to have the best team.
For one thing, it makes the sport much less interesting if one team is the equivalent of the All-Star team and by comparison every opponent is a high school intra-mural squad.
For another thing, the Yankees themselves have proven beyond any doubt over the last 10 years that buying the best players isn't what makes the team the best team. If it did they would have won a lot more World Series in the last 10 years than only in 2000 and 2009.
If you want additional proof - this year the World Series was won by the San Francisco Giants - with a payroll that ranked only 10th in Major League baseball (less than half of the Yankee's payroll) and virtually no "huge" stars (pitching ace Tim Lincecum notwithstanding). To woin the World Series, they beat the Rangers, who ranked 27th in the Majors for payroll, barely over a quarter of what the Yankees shelled out in salaries this year (and the Rangers beat the Yankees in the playoffs 4 games to 2 - so much for the biggest salaries of the biggest names making you the best team...)
Give me a team with "home grown" talent that has been with the organization since minor leagues, or at least early in the professional career, and I'm happy to see that team prove that as a team, they are the best in the league.
But back to my beloved, albeit troubled Yankees. Not to anyone's surprise, the Yanks have opened their off-season by making moves to acquire pitcher Cliff Lee.
For those of you visiting from Saturn, or who otherwise don't follow baseball, Cliff Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball over the past several years, and he seems to be still at the peak of his career – he hasn't showed any signs of slowing down yet.
So all of the teams want him, and the Yankees are known for being willing to pay out top dollar and out-bid other teams in bringing the best players to Yankee Stadium.
And as much as I love my Yanks and want to see them win, I'm tired of how their budgetary lack of constraints really take away form the beauty of the sport. Professional sports have all become big business, and it is absolutely beyond me – even from the perspective of the players how it has sunk to the level which it is.
I mean – seriously! Take the case of Cliff Lee. He earned $9 million this year.
To play a game.
For 6 months of the year.
Now – let's say the Yankees decide to give Cliff Lee the same incentive as their other 2 biggest name aces right now – CC Sabathia, who earned over $24 million this year (and granted, had a pretty good year) and AJ Burnette, who earned $16.5 million this year (and basically sucked).
If the Yankees decide to go that route and offer Cliff Lee, say $15 million this year, and the Rangers will "only" go as high as 10. It's a reasonable assumption that he would leave Texas (where he has said that he is very happy pitching) to go to New York and make that much more money.
But tell me something - Is there really so much that anybody can or would want to do with $15 million (per year!) that they can't do with $10 million?
I seriously don't think so.
But that's become the nature of the proverbial beast, not only in professional baseball, but in basketball and football as well.
The depth to which the whole thing has sunk was really driven home for me this evening with an article I saw online about a high school football game.
The football team of Bald Knob, Arkansas (and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to know that there is a place with a name like this. I mean it!) was racking up a huge win – apparently a regular occurrence for this particular team.
By mid-way into the 3rd quarter, the score was 70-34 and the sophomore quarterback had thrown for 534 yards and 8 touchdowns. Had he stayed in the game, it is good bet that he would have tied or broken the Arkansas state single-game record of 10 touchdowns.
He was taken out though. Apparently the state of Arkansas has a "Mercy Rule", common in many states up through the high school level of play, which prevents teams already winning by a huge margin from piling on the points and humiliating the other team.
So, the Bald Knob (hee hee hee) coach pulled the quarterback and the rest of the starters from the game for the remainder of the third quarter and the entire fourth quarter. Afterwards the coach said that while he thought about the record, he wouldn't do that to another team just to get a record.
Unfortunately, this Mercy Rule isn't found on either the college or professional level, which makes me very sad.
There is a lesson that players can learn from rules like this one – that it is a game that they are playing, and yes, the point is win, but there is no honor in humiliating an opponent. You can play, play your best, be the better team – even by far, while still keeping sight of what the game really is all about.
If athletes are taught from a young age that whatever game they compete is a part of life, but not life's be-all and end-all definition of self, and if that lesson is continued into young adulthood, and then not-so-young adulthood, then perhaps when they reach the professional level, they'll remember that they can enjoy the sport, keep that parity between teams and not need an additional $10 million about the $10 million that they already get to play a game.
Then the game can return to being just that – a game.
The year was 1972. It was one year before the George Steinbrenner era began, 10 years since the Yankees had last won a World Series (which was 2 years before I was born) and 5 years before they were to win their next one. So considering how mediocre they were when I started following them, it cannot be thought that I was jumping on the winner's bandwagon.
What actually made me a Yankees fan was my baseball card collection. One of the cards that I had was for the Yankees left fielder at the time, Bobby Murcer. I was 7 years old, and without knowing anything (yet) about this player, I thought he had a really cool sounding name, and in his baseball card picture he looked like a really nice guy. So, because of Bobby Murcer I became a Yankees fan.
I have stayed a Yankees fan because once I decide I love a team, it's for life – taking the good with the bad, and all that stuff.
However, I don't like the policy (started by George Steinbrenner when he became the Yankees owner, and continued to this day by the Yankees and many other teams) of pouring gazillions of dollars every year into buying the biggest names on the market, paying the highest total team salary in order to have the best team.
For one thing, it makes the sport much less interesting if one team is the equivalent of the All-Star team and by comparison every opponent is a high school intra-mural squad.
For another thing, the Yankees themselves have proven beyond any doubt over the last 10 years that buying the best players isn't what makes the team the best team. If it did they would have won a lot more World Series in the last 10 years than only in 2000 and 2009.
If you want additional proof - this year the World Series was won by the San Francisco Giants - with a payroll that ranked only 10th in Major League baseball (less than half of the Yankee's payroll) and virtually no "huge" stars (pitching ace Tim Lincecum notwithstanding). To woin the World Series, they beat the Rangers, who ranked 27th in the Majors for payroll, barely over a quarter of what the Yankees shelled out in salaries this year (and the Rangers beat the Yankees in the playoffs 4 games to 2 - so much for the biggest salaries of the biggest names making you the best team...)
Give me a team with "home grown" talent that has been with the organization since minor leagues, or at least early in the professional career, and I'm happy to see that team prove that as a team, they are the best in the league.
But back to my beloved, albeit troubled Yankees. Not to anyone's surprise, the Yanks have opened their off-season by making moves to acquire pitcher Cliff Lee.
For those of you visiting from Saturn, or who otherwise don't follow baseball, Cliff Lee is one of the best pitchers in baseball over the past several years, and he seems to be still at the peak of his career – he hasn't showed any signs of slowing down yet.
So all of the teams want him, and the Yankees are known for being willing to pay out top dollar and out-bid other teams in bringing the best players to Yankee Stadium.
And as much as I love my Yanks and want to see them win, I'm tired of how their budgetary lack of constraints really take away form the beauty of the sport. Professional sports have all become big business, and it is absolutely beyond me – even from the perspective of the players how it has sunk to the level which it is.
I mean – seriously! Take the case of Cliff Lee. He earned $9 million this year.
To play a game.
For 6 months of the year.
Now – let's say the Yankees decide to give Cliff Lee the same incentive as their other 2 biggest name aces right now – CC Sabathia, who earned over $24 million this year (and granted, had a pretty good year) and AJ Burnette, who earned $16.5 million this year (and basically sucked).
If the Yankees decide to go that route and offer Cliff Lee, say $15 million this year, and the Rangers will "only" go as high as 10. It's a reasonable assumption that he would leave Texas (where he has said that he is very happy pitching) to go to New York and make that much more money.
But tell me something - Is there really so much that anybody can or would want to do with $15 million (per year!) that they can't do with $10 million?
I seriously don't think so.
But that's become the nature of the proverbial beast, not only in professional baseball, but in basketball and football as well.
The depth to which the whole thing has sunk was really driven home for me this evening with an article I saw online about a high school football game.
The football team of Bald Knob, Arkansas (and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to know that there is a place with a name like this. I mean it!) was racking up a huge win – apparently a regular occurrence for this particular team.
By mid-way into the 3rd quarter, the score was 70-34 and the sophomore quarterback had thrown for 534 yards and 8 touchdowns. Had he stayed in the game, it is good bet that he would have tied or broken the Arkansas state single-game record of 10 touchdowns.
He was taken out though. Apparently the state of Arkansas has a "Mercy Rule", common in many states up through the high school level of play, which prevents teams already winning by a huge margin from piling on the points and humiliating the other team.
So, the Bald Knob (hee hee hee) coach pulled the quarterback and the rest of the starters from the game for the remainder of the third quarter and the entire fourth quarter. Afterwards the coach said that while he thought about the record, he wouldn't do that to another team just to get a record.
Unfortunately, this Mercy Rule isn't found on either the college or professional level, which makes me very sad.
There is a lesson that players can learn from rules like this one – that it is a game that they are playing, and yes, the point is win, but there is no honor in humiliating an opponent. You can play, play your best, be the better team – even by far, while still keeping sight of what the game really is all about.
If athletes are taught from a young age that whatever game they compete is a part of life, but not life's be-all and end-all definition of self, and if that lesson is continued into young adulthood, and then not-so-young adulthood, then perhaps when they reach the professional level, they'll remember that they can enjoy the sport, keep that parity between teams and not need an additional $10 million about the $10 million that they already get to play a game.
Then the game can return to being just that – a game.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Drawing the lines
What do you do when you find that your most dearly held principles in conflict with one another? This seems to be happening to me a lot recently, in particular regarding free speech.
For example – where do you draw the line between free speech and incitement? Sometimes, it’s very obvious, other times, I’m not so sure.
Right after Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin was assassinated (15 years ago this month) I remember here in Israel “incitement” was almost on par with what “communist sympathizer” was in America during the McCarthy era in the 1950’s. Anybody who dared utter a negative word about the recently-martyred leader, or his heir-apparent Shimon Peres, was seen as being on the same level as Yigal Amir, the murderer that pulled the trigger.
Side note for true story: at a bank in Jerusalem a couple of weeks after the assassination, a teller who had just finished with one customer called out “Who’s next” (very common in banks, post offices, etc. before everyone had a “Pick-a-number”). One guy yelled out “Shimon Peres” – and he was arrested.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I think that this guy’s joke was in extremely poor taste, and wasn’t in the least bit funny. But last I checked, there’s nothing illegal about that. People like that can and should be ostracized for thinking that political assassination is acceptable, or even in some way funny – but that doesn’t diminish their right to their views – no matter how disgusting those views may be.
At the time that Rabin was murdered, his popularity was extremely low, and the majority of Israelis (including many from his own Labor party) disapproved of how he was handling the peace process and the direction that the country seemed to be going. But for several months after the assassination, nobody would even dream of saying anything bad about Rabin. Most of the Israeli right-wing, and in particular the Settlers (those who live in what we call disputed areas) were terrified to express what they felt politically. They were all under society’s microscope and being told that they needed to a serious soul-searching because of what “one of theirs” did.
This lack of freedom of speech and expression at the time, created an atmosphere and mood in the country that was even darker than the assassination itself created. It was terrible.
But there is such a thing as incitement that does go beyond the realm of “Free Speech”. When people are encouraging, and even assisting others to violate the rights of others, to break laws, to undermine societal norms, then the line is a grey one, but there are times when hiding behind the skirt of Free Speech, just doesn’t cut it.
For example, one of the theories surrounding the Rabin assassination was that certain rabbis and other spiritual leaders whom Yigal Amir greatly respected, had told him that it was right to kill the Prime Minister, and that by doing so he would be performing a mitzvah (good deed/positive commandment). This does not take away in the least Amir’s responsibility for being the one to pull the trigger, and it should not lessen his sentence and punishment at all. BUT – if a rabbi, teacher, or whatever was inciting him to do what he did, then that’s not “free speech” and that person also bears a certain amount of responsibility.
Again – where do you draw the line?
This morning, I saw an article online about a book which had been for sale on Amazon.com which has since been removed after a couple of thousand people complained and threatened to boycott Amazon if the e-book wasn’t pulled.
Considering that book in question is called "The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure: A Child-Lover's Code of Conduct", my support of getting the book off of the shelves – virtual and real-life – pretty much goes without saying, as does my willingness to boycott anyone who would market such a book.
But you know what? Yes, I agree with Amazon’s decision to pull it, and yes, I support turning anyone who sells this into a pariah, it’s really not so clear cut. It’s a much a greyer area than at first I would have believed.
I am a huge believer in free speech and freedom to publish, as well as the freedom to disagree with anything that is said or written and the freedom to not buy a book that you find offensive or disagreeable.
So, if somebody wants to write a book about why they love doing that which is morally repugnant to what I hope would be all right-minded decent people, why should it bother me? I’m free to not buy his garbage and I’m equally free to talk, write and in any other way share with anyone that will listen why I think that he’s a sick monster.
But with this one, I can’t do that.
This one crosses certain lines that should never ever be crossed.
The issue isn’t simply that the book is promoting something that’s illegal. That in and of itself doesn’t really bother most people. Right? I mean, seriously – how much would anybody give a damn or threaten boycott if the book was about how to grow marijuana without getting caught, or use certain drugs without abusing them and endangering yourself and others?
But not with pedophilia.
The author, Phillip R. Greaves II, even tries to explain himself. He said in a phone interview with CNN that his book presents the proverbial do’s and don’ts of pedophilia. He provides what he sees as acceptable boundaries, and which lines one should never cross (for example, he says "Penetration is out. You can't do that with a child, but kissing and fondling I don't think is that big of a problem.")
In the Amazon.com product description, he explained that by appealing to pedosexuals’ better nature (no shit! He seriously wrote this!!), that if they follow his guidelines then there will be less public hatred of what they do and less harsh prison sentences.
Back to the whole free-speech thing – I will say that I completely support his right to truly believe this, and to say so. No question about it.
But to try to make acceptable and to encourage through publication of a book, perpetrating an act against victims that are helpless – No way. Forget it. That’s not freedom of speech.
If the book were about how to talk women (legal adults) into bed, I would still say that he’s a sick whackjob, but that would be less disgusting. The underlying assumption and understanding of why pedophilia is so completely unacceptable on every level is that even if children “agree” to such contact, it is not reasonable to assume that a child under a certain age or level of intellectual and personal development really understands what it is that he or she is “agreeing” to do (or to have done to them), or what the ramifications of it are.
Never mind the fact that in the heat and excitement of the moment, even a person trying to follow the so-called “guidelines” of kissing and fondling will almost never be able to put on the brakes and avoid crossing the line. Even when sexual activity with a child is theoretically “consensual” it is clearly taking advantage of a young person who really doesn’t know what the hell they are getting themselves into.
I’m no lawyer, so I have no idea if this would actually apply, but it seems to my layman’s mind that a book like this is actually guilty of conspiracy to committing a crime. Or aiding and abetting. I don’t know.
I do know that it is not practicing “free speech”. Period.
Practice free speech, and I promise to support your God-given right to be as wrong, as crazy and as down-right stupid as you want to be. But this isn’t it. Not by a long-shot.
For example – where do you draw the line between free speech and incitement? Sometimes, it’s very obvious, other times, I’m not so sure.
Right after Israeli Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin was assassinated (15 years ago this month) I remember here in Israel “incitement” was almost on par with what “communist sympathizer” was in America during the McCarthy era in the 1950’s. Anybody who dared utter a negative word about the recently-martyred leader, or his heir-apparent Shimon Peres, was seen as being on the same level as Yigal Amir, the murderer that pulled the trigger.
Side note for true story: at a bank in Jerusalem a couple of weeks after the assassination, a teller who had just finished with one customer called out “Who’s next” (very common in banks, post offices, etc. before everyone had a “Pick-a-number”). One guy yelled out “Shimon Peres” – and he was arrested.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I think that this guy’s joke was in extremely poor taste, and wasn’t in the least bit funny. But last I checked, there’s nothing illegal about that. People like that can and should be ostracized for thinking that political assassination is acceptable, or even in some way funny – but that doesn’t diminish their right to their views – no matter how disgusting those views may be.
At the time that Rabin was murdered, his popularity was extremely low, and the majority of Israelis (including many from his own Labor party) disapproved of how he was handling the peace process and the direction that the country seemed to be going. But for several months after the assassination, nobody would even dream of saying anything bad about Rabin. Most of the Israeli right-wing, and in particular the Settlers (those who live in what we call disputed areas) were terrified to express what they felt politically. They were all under society’s microscope and being told that they needed to a serious soul-searching because of what “one of theirs” did.
This lack of freedom of speech and expression at the time, created an atmosphere and mood in the country that was even darker than the assassination itself created. It was terrible.
But there is such a thing as incitement that does go beyond the realm of “Free Speech”. When people are encouraging, and even assisting others to violate the rights of others, to break laws, to undermine societal norms, then the line is a grey one, but there are times when hiding behind the skirt of Free Speech, just doesn’t cut it.
For example, one of the theories surrounding the Rabin assassination was that certain rabbis and other spiritual leaders whom Yigal Amir greatly respected, had told him that it was right to kill the Prime Minister, and that by doing so he would be performing a mitzvah (good deed/positive commandment). This does not take away in the least Amir’s responsibility for being the one to pull the trigger, and it should not lessen his sentence and punishment at all. BUT – if a rabbi, teacher, or whatever was inciting him to do what he did, then that’s not “free speech” and that person also bears a certain amount of responsibility.
Again – where do you draw the line?
This morning, I saw an article online about a book which had been for sale on Amazon.com which has since been removed after a couple of thousand people complained and threatened to boycott Amazon if the e-book wasn’t pulled.
Considering that book in question is called "The Pedophile's Guide to Love and Pleasure: A Child-Lover's Code of Conduct", my support of getting the book off of the shelves – virtual and real-life – pretty much goes without saying, as does my willingness to boycott anyone who would market such a book.
But you know what? Yes, I agree with Amazon’s decision to pull it, and yes, I support turning anyone who sells this into a pariah, it’s really not so clear cut. It’s a much a greyer area than at first I would have believed.
I am a huge believer in free speech and freedom to publish, as well as the freedom to disagree with anything that is said or written and the freedom to not buy a book that you find offensive or disagreeable.
So, if somebody wants to write a book about why they love doing that which is morally repugnant to what I hope would be all right-minded decent people, why should it bother me? I’m free to not buy his garbage and I’m equally free to talk, write and in any other way share with anyone that will listen why I think that he’s a sick monster.
But with this one, I can’t do that.
This one crosses certain lines that should never ever be crossed.
The issue isn’t simply that the book is promoting something that’s illegal. That in and of itself doesn’t really bother most people. Right? I mean, seriously – how much would anybody give a damn or threaten boycott if the book was about how to grow marijuana without getting caught, or use certain drugs without abusing them and endangering yourself and others?
But not with pedophilia.
The author, Phillip R. Greaves II, even tries to explain himself. He said in a phone interview with CNN that his book presents the proverbial do’s and don’ts of pedophilia. He provides what he sees as acceptable boundaries, and which lines one should never cross (for example, he says "Penetration is out. You can't do that with a child, but kissing and fondling I don't think is that big of a problem.")
In the Amazon.com product description, he explained that by appealing to pedosexuals’ better nature (no shit! He seriously wrote this!!), that if they follow his guidelines then there will be less public hatred of what they do and less harsh prison sentences.
Back to the whole free-speech thing – I will say that I completely support his right to truly believe this, and to say so. No question about it.
But to try to make acceptable and to encourage through publication of a book, perpetrating an act against victims that are helpless – No way. Forget it. That’s not freedom of speech.
If the book were about how to talk women (legal adults) into bed, I would still say that he’s a sick whackjob, but that would be less disgusting. The underlying assumption and understanding of why pedophilia is so completely unacceptable on every level is that even if children “agree” to such contact, it is not reasonable to assume that a child under a certain age or level of intellectual and personal development really understands what it is that he or she is “agreeing” to do (or to have done to them), or what the ramifications of it are.
Never mind the fact that in the heat and excitement of the moment, even a person trying to follow the so-called “guidelines” of kissing and fondling will almost never be able to put on the brakes and avoid crossing the line. Even when sexual activity with a child is theoretically “consensual” it is clearly taking advantage of a young person who really doesn’t know what the hell they are getting themselves into.
I’m no lawyer, so I have no idea if this would actually apply, but it seems to my layman’s mind that a book like this is actually guilty of conspiracy to committing a crime. Or aiding and abetting. I don’t know.
I do know that it is not practicing “free speech”. Period.
Practice free speech, and I promise to support your God-given right to be as wrong, as crazy and as down-right stupid as you want to be. But this isn’t it. Not by a long-shot.
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