Friday, April 27, 2007

Baby Talk

The straight couple next door have a just-turned two year old boy. He is your standard issue cute, curly-blond-headed, blue eyed, gush.
It has to be a tight squeeze for them all, as their place is the same size as ours, and lord-knows it's tight over here for us. The apartments where we live are kind of New York style, in that there is no private outdoor space, only a narrow walkway that runs along the front of the building.
The kid is your reasonably typical two year old; into everything he shouldn't be, obsessed with trucks, water and animals. He loves being outside, and on occasion throws a major hissy when dragged (literally) into the apartment.
He babbles non-sensically pretty much constantly. This is concern number one; surely at two he should be putting some recognizable words together, right? Nope, not a one have I heard that I recognize. It is pretty much "da da da da".
Listening to his parents tho, and the way they speak to him (and each other) maybe I shouldn't be surprised. He (the father) has some anger issues, and she is in a constant state of placation and appeasement, from what we hear.
He yells and screams at her from time to time, and at the kid too. The saddest thing is to hear her telling the kid not to do this-or-that because it'll "make Daddy mad", or that "daddy has told you not to do that", etc. Ugh. Poor little bugger.
It also amazes me hearing the general ways in which they talk to him. Instructions, statements, but no age-appropriate explanations. No "Don't drink that water, it's yucky" just "I've told you not to drink that". Lots of voiced concerns about getting wet and dirty, but nothing that could be called teaching.
She loves him for sure, that's obvious. It's just the lack of kid-based wisdom that astounds me. Proof that you can bring a child forth, but raising them is a whole other ball of string.
I wonder if he is hearing impaired, it might explain the lack of vocabulary? I also wonder if it is appropriate to say something to them, seeing I am in the kid business after all? But with his anger issues, I am a touch hesitant to try that, just yet.
We'll see...

Monday, April 23, 2007

Yom Hazikaron 2007

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Friday Morning at Disney Hall


I had the luck to use my mother-in-laws ticket to Disney Hall to hear the LA Phil on Friday morning. It was a bit of a chilly day, and rain had fallen, making the streets slick, and washing off the dust from the buildings and plants.
The program was delightful; Beethoven's' violin concerto (1806), followed by Jean Sibelius' Lemminkaien Suite (1895-96). The violinist for the Beethoven, a Russian woman called Viktoria Mullova, was incredible. She stood in an amazing canary-yellow Chinese silk dress which puddled delightfully at her feet, giving her a hovering quality.
Sadly, during the last part of the third movement of the Sibelius the fire alarms were tripped. Shrieking electronic "whoops" and the flashing of strobe lights made it impossible for them to continue for the better part of twenty minutes. I felt so sorry for them all - it was transporting enough for us the audience and then cruelly abrupt an interruption, I can't imagine what it must have been like for the orchestra.
Once the alarms were silenced Esa-Pekka Salonen pulled them together for the final movement. Amazing rebound! We gave them an ovation, of course.

Monday, April 16, 2007

Sirens Sound in Israel

This is what it looks like...

But Wait...There's More!

עברי לידר - Ivri Lider - Your Soul

And While I'm on an Israeli Kick...

עברי לידר - זכיתי לאהוב
Ivri Leider - Zachiti L'ehov

Yom Ha'Shoah in Israel

Probably the most powerful community/shared experience I have ever been part of. I was in Jerusalem for Yom Ha'Shoah - Holocaust Memorial Day - in 2004. We stood on the sidewalk outside Hebrew Union College, on David Ha'Melech. Everything ground to a halt with the wail of the sirens. Everything except the wind, the birds and the sway of the trees.

This happens all across Israel at 11:00 AM on this day. The entire country stops what they are doing, stands up in their classrooms, in the market, in the street, gets out of their cars, and stands in silence to remember the six million.

Saturday, April 14, 2007

Now You're Talkin' My Language

This from the New York Times;
AMERICA is watching Don Imus’s self-immolation in a state of shock and awe. And I’m watching America with wry amusement.

Since I’m a second-class citizen — a gay man — my seats for the ballgame of American discourse are way back in the bleachers. I don’t have to wait long for a shock jock or stand-up comedian to slip up with hateful epithets aimed at me and mine. Hate speak against homosexuals is as commonplace as spam. It’s daily traffic for those who profess themselves to be regular Joes, men of God, public servants who live off my tax dollars, as well as any number of celebrities.

In fact, I get a good chuckle whenever someone refers to “the media” as an agent of “the gay agenda.” There are entire channels, like Spike TV, that couldn’t fill an hour of programming if required to remove their sexist and homophobic content. We’ve got a president and a large part of Congress willing to change the Constitution so they can deprive of us our rights because they feel we are not “normal.”

So I’m used to catching foul balls up here in the cheap seats. What I am really enjoying is watching the rest of you act as if you had no idea that prejudice was alive and well in your hearts and minds.

For the past two decades political correctness has been derided as a surrender to thin-skinned, humorless, uptight oversensitive sissies. Well, you anti-politically correct people have won the battle, and we’re all now feasting on the spoils of your victory. During the last few months alone we’ve had a few comedians spout racism, a basketball coach put forth anti-Semitism and several high-profile spoutings of anti-gay epithets.

What surprises me, I guess, is how choosy the anti-P.C. crowd is about which hate speech it will not tolerate. Sure, there were voices of protest when the TV actor Isaiah Washington called a gay colleague a “faggot.” But corporate America didn’t pull its advertising from “Grey’s Anatomy,” as it did with Mr. Imus, did it? And when Ann Coulter likewise tagged a presidential candidate last month, she paid no real price.

In fact, when Bill Maher discussed Ms. Coulter’s remarks on his HBO show, he repeated the slur no fewer than four times himself; each mention, I must note, solicited a laugh from his audience. No one called for any sort of apology from him. (Well, actually, I did, so the following week he only used it once.)

Face it, if a Pentagon general, his salary paid with my tax dollars, can label homosexual acts as “immoral” without a call for his dismissal, who are the moral high and mighty kidding?

Our nation, historically bursting with generosity toward strangers, remains remarkably unkind toward its own. Just under our gleaming patina of inclusiveness, we harbor corroding guts. America, I tell you that it doesn’t matter how many times you brush your teeth. If your insides are rotting your breath will stink. So, how do you people choose which hate to embrace, which to forgive with a wink and a week in rehab, and which to protest? Where’s my copy of that rule book?

Let me cite a non-volatile example of how prejudice can cohabit unchecked with good intentions. I am a huge fan of David Letterman’s. I watch the opening of his show a couple of times a week and have done so for decades. Without fail, in his opening monologue or skit Mr. Letterman makes a joke about someone being fat. I kid you not. Will that destroy our nation? Should he be fired or lose his sponsors? Obviously not.

But I think that there is something deeper going on at the Letterman studio than coincidence. And, as I’ve said, I cite this example simply to illustrate that all kinds of prejudice exist in the human heart. Some are harmless. Some not so harmless. But we need to understand who we are if we wish to change. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should confess to not only being a gay American, but also a fat one. Yes, I’m a double winner.)

I urge you to look around, or better yet, listen around and become aware of the prejudice in everyday life. We are so surrounded by expressions of intolerance that I am in shock and awe that anyone noticed all these recent high-profile instances. Still, I’m gladdened because our no longer being deaf to them may signal their eventual eradication.

The real point is that you cannot harbor malice toward others and then cry foul when someone displays intolerance against you. Prejudice tolerated is intolerance encouraged. Rise up in righteousness when you witness the words and deeds of hate, but only if you are willing to rise up against them all, including your own. Otherwise suffer the slings and arrows of disrespect silently.
Harvey Fierstein is an actor and playwright.

Friday, April 13, 2007

Taking it Slow

I'm kind of stuffed up today. We have had a lot of wind the last few days and so I am having some kind of allergy flare-up, I guess. I elected to take the day off to get myself in order, and the prospect of a dripping nose, sniffling, etc. at work was one that just didn't appeal.
The boy has headed off to CT and DC for the weekend. A retreat at the Isabella Friedman Institute in the middle of CT, which has was very delayed in getting to thanks to airline delays, etc. So I was a tad worried when I got a call from the center at 24:00 their time, wondering if I had heard from him. Of course he didn't have cell reception out there in the boonies, and the weather had been rotten evidently, to which I added some twisted "Deliverance" scenario, and scared myself shitless. Of course he is fine, and arrived at about 01:00 their time. Poor lad.
So I have spent the day catching up on a number of things I have been letting slide. Re-caulked the kitchen sink, replaced the shower curtain liner (eww), bought a new shower caddy, and shower non-slip mat thingi. Wrote-up meeting minutes, fired off numerous e-mails, grocery shopped, et al.
I've been loosely following the Imus case. He got the can yesterday, and I have to say I'm glad. Not that I am glad that this man is now unemployed, but that - at least in this case - someone is doing the right thing and standing up against uncivilized behaviour/speech.
I'm not sure when America lost it's sense of civility, but I think it has become far too much the norm. I think I have noticed a spike since September 11th. Americans now believe that they can say what they want, regardless of how rude, hurtful, or uncivil it is. Shows like "Idol" have now come to glorify those who put others down, and it has crossed to the other side of the screen all the more so.
I don't believe that America "deserved" the terrorist attacks, but it sure deserves a "time out" now. Enough of this victim mentality, time to stand up and look at what you have become. Don't blame your President, Elected Officials and leaders (but of course they too are some of the biggest culprits), we are responsible for the way we behave in the world, and cannot complain about the consequences unless we take action ourselves. There is just so much hate out there, and that does something to the heart of a people, something fatal.
Shabbat is about to descend on Los Angeles. I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet, some reflection and contemplation, some calm and stillness. May we all find a little of what we really need this Shabbat.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Next Year, in Jerusalem...

Today has been the last day of Pesach. Seven days ago we escaped from the grasp of Pharaoh, and literally ran away into the desert of eastern Mitzrayim. Then today, we had our most amazing interaction with the Holy One.
We stood, trembling, terrified, at the lapping-edge of the sea of reeds. Thundering in our ears was the roar of hooves, and the scream of horses in the hot sun, as they were whipped on across the sand toward us.
As we stood there, sure that we were dead, a great and awesome thing happened. The waters parted, and we were allowed to pass through to the other bank. They pursued us, gaining, ever closer. Then the water closed upon them, and swallowed them up. Right in the sight of our very eyes.
Once the disbelief, and the anticipation of doom subsided, our hearts were full of praise, and we sang this song;
Shi'ru la'donai - I will sing to Adonai.
for Adonai has triumphed, yes, triumphed,
the horse and it's charioteer Adonai has flung into the sea!
My fierce-might and strength is Yah,
G-d has become deliverance for me.
This is my G-d, and I will honor Adonai,
the G-d of my father - I exalt Adonai.
I have been thinking about how that must have been today. To see such a thing, to come out with Moshe, Aaron, Miriam, and the children of Yis'ra'el.
That happened today, on the seventh day of Pesach, and it has been sealed on our hearts and minds ever since.
Today we observed Yiskor. It was a sunny morning in the sanctuary, and the light streamed in dappling the floor with shadows of the grill work that adorns the eastern wall window. We shared our grieves, somewhat, and for the first time I felt able to mourn my cousin, Nicci.
It was a good feeling to start the day with a group in prayer, something I realize I get great value from.
The sun is now setting in the west. Although I cannot see it from here, it is about to dip into the ocean, leading us another day closer to Sinai, and the consummation of our engagement with Holiness. Torah as our Ketubah.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Lotsa Matzah

I am kinda over Matzah. Don't get me wrong, I love Pesach, but usually by the 5th day or so I am just done. The Matzah seems to just sit in my gut, plugging me up most uncomfortably. I won't go into the details of my slowed gut motility, and what that means for me, but I am sure you get the gist.
I've been on my own for most of this week. A social action trip to New Orleans has meant I have been rattling around the apartment, feeling very much alone. He'll be back Monday night, but then takes off later in the week for a retreat in CT, and the like.
I should put the time to good use, but I have yet to do so. Work was particularly difficult, and I was in charge. I am also being called on to assist with a re-structuring effort at my part-time gig with the research team. There are tons of issues that have been let slide by various folks, and there isn't much cohesion at the moment. I have ideas, but it really is a full-time job, not one that can be appropriately accomplished on 4-8 hours a week. I may be over extending myself - we'll see.
I've signed up for a ceramics class, more accurately a potting class. Introduction to wheel. Starts in May, and I am looking forward to doing something different with my Wednesday evenings. Who knows what will come of it all.

Monday, April 02, 2007

Out Damn Spot...

I had visions of Lady Macbeth today as I went to it in the kitchen, doing a pre-Pesach clean. It seemed like just as I removed one spot of I'm-not-sure-what-it-is-but-it-must-be-Hametz after another appeared in my line of vision.
I'm not advocating a complete surrender to ones obsessive compulsive disorder while taking any sort of ritually based preparation, but I can see how easy it is to do so. Each stain, mark or splodge of something I removed filled me with a strange tinge of excitement. I am sure that merely by admitting this I should be heavily medicated.
But it is almost done. I have cleaning out the food cabinets, scrubbed them, rinsed them, and placed the passover approved food items back. At this point that includes; 2 boxes of Trader Joes matzah, 2 boxes of Mrs. You-know-Whos-awitz's matzah ball soup mix, some jello, a can of tuna fish, and other sundry items. I'll go shopping tomorrow and stock up on "real" food, even tho it is a Chag.
I boxed up the unopened hametz food items, told them that I no longer owned them, and then put the box up on top of the fridge, where I tell myself "I can't see it, so it doesn't exist" for me. I threw out all the semi-used jars of this-that-and-the-other, divested us from the huge array of plastic cutlery we seem to have acquired, and then cast my eye on the silverware draw.
I washed them, all of them. Then I emptied the drawer they sit in, emptied the accumulated schmutz into the sink, then scrubbed out the drawer and the plastic tray. After everything was dry, I dutifully put them all back, neatly, and hametz free, into the drawer.
I like Pesach very much. It makes me feel connected to something pivotal and essential. Releasing myself from that which either puffs me up, or drags me down, I hope.
Seder tonite, and tomorrow. Looking very much to them both.