Happy "Holidays"

When I wear my menorah pin, which I do a lot during this season, people don't know what to say to me. Some don't know what it is so they just say Merry Christmas, which is fine with me. I am perfectly happy to have a Merry 25th of December although I am not spiritually moved by it. Others have no idea what to say and think I will melt or file suit if they say Merry Christmas so they stutter and move on. This is ridiculous but more damaging to them than me. Some say Happy Chanukah (sp?) and that is fine too since it is what I celebrate and it is always nice to be accurately recognized occasionally. The politically correct say Happy Holidays. There is something good about this and something not so good. The good is that having a happy holiday of any kind is a good and wonderful thing, so it can't be a bad thing to say. It is kind, carries good intention and good feelings and is meant to bestow the good wishes of the speaker to the listener. But the not so good is that it is wishy-washy, ambivalent, non-committal. I just don't know how I feel about this. Better, I think to have the courage of your convictions even you sometimes get it wrong. Someone might correct you and you might learn something. I think Season's Greetings is marginally better because in some way it acknowledges that many of the ideals of the season are shared by various cultures and religions. It is a season of kindness, charity, freedom, not just a holiday. I know that seems a peculiar distinction but it is how I feel. So to all I care for and anyone else who might read this (my few, very few, loyal fans) my best greetings of this season to you, may you be moved and inspired by whatever it is you celebrate.

How Do You Spell That?

Chanukah; Hannukah; and both without the final "h". I am guessing in Hebrew there is just one spelling but in English...good grief. I never know what spelling to choose, neither does Hallmark. Non-Jews think it is "like" Christmas, just as they think Passover has someting to do with Easter. Narcissistic; natural I suppose, but very wrong. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the most important figure (aside from God for those who believe God and Jesus are two separate entities) in Christianity (thus "christ"ianity). It is about a person, quintessential to the core beliefs of all christian sects and faiths. Chanukah is the celebration of an idea, the ideal of freedom; the idea that standing up for what you believe is right and good. A core belief to be sure, but not essential to Jewish dogma. The history of the Jews is fraught with enslavement and the fight for freedom. Generally the enslavement has been based on religious persecution but it is the history of the people, not the central religious idea. And so the two holidays are very different. In Israel, people love Chanukah (sp?) but there isn't much gift-giving or decorating about it, I think. In America I think the gift giving and decorating comes as a result of parents feeling guilty that their children don't experience the excesses of the season like the children who celebrate Christmas. I personally like lights so we put light on the house, although I can't do red and green (we just do white and blue). And Chanukah is a festival of light (you could argue and our Rabbi said). I love our menorah collection because each has a story and a history, so we light them all, the house is ablaze with candles for an hour each night. And we exchange a (one) gift each night, mostly smaller. Other than that we just go about our business, to work and school and what have you. Where I live they don't close schools or offices, banks or businesses for Chanukah. They don't even know how to spell it.

Seasonal Charity

I spent hours wrapping gifts for foster children who had a great need and would have nothing for Christmas. I was appealed to by my dearest friend who works for a private foster agency regarding two sisters who did not have a sponsorship for their Christmas needs. Since my son is the birth child of a foster child we had in our home at one time, the needs of foster children is a cause dear to my heart. I in turn appealed to my company and many of the employees purchased toys and clothing and the children will be well taken care of, at least on Christmas day. It is heartbreaking, however, the extent of the need and how little most of us give the rest of the year. These are children whose needs extend far far beyond Christmas day. And in this year of economic chaos, hundreds of thousands out of work, the wealthy feeling their stock losses, the need for charity is overwhelming and the charities themselves are overwhelmed. Here in my little corner of the world I know about the Jewish Federation, among other things. They help families of all faiths pay their rent, their electric bills, they maintain a food bank, they collect gift cards for needy teenagers and clothing for everyone, they bring a seder to assisted living residents and holiday baskets to families with nothing, they purchase, stuff and distribute over 6,000 backpacks each fall to needy students; but it is never enough. And this year, it is really not enough. The only thing that trickles down in this trickle-down economy the Bush administration has bragged of so much is the consequences of failure. You lose your job, possibly your home, and the people who might have helped are also feeling pinched because their bonuses have been cut back to a few million (not discussing profits now) so the charities that depend on private funds (their government funding having been gutted in the name of private enterprise and war mongering) have none to help you. So while the CEOs worry about whether they can maintain three homes instead of five, or fly business class instead of the corporate jet, you are standing in line for a basket of food to make a Christmas dinner. I know this year that despite how tight my own circumstances are, I have given more than I thought I could; I worry about what will happen the other 364.

Chanukah PC

It is the first night of Chanukah, a time I love. But we were told (by the Rabbi) that there are lots of bloggers who are pooh-poohing Chanukah. Who say it is a minor holiday (correct in some respects); it isn't even in the Bible (true) and finally that it is not politically correct because it celebrates war and aggression, etc. What a ridiculous idea. The modern popular view of Jews is of a bunch of greedy nebishes who walked sheeplike into the ovens of Hitler to be slaughtered by the millions. There is a grain of truth to this, after all, many hundreds of thousands went to their deaths with little resistance; cultural shock and denial? But there is another truth as well. Historians and other educated folks know that there were many who fought bravely and died to avoid that fate (look at the Warsaw ghetto). Nevertheless, there is a basic modern perception of Jew as victim. (The idea of the Israeli Jew as warrior in modern culture and perception is another discussion). Celebrating those who fought and died for religious and ethnic freedom is hardly a bad idea. Chanukah is not in the Bible. As religious holidays go, it isn't much of one. Yet it has a joyous and wonderful feeling to it. In past years, when my son was young, when we had our annual party all our friends' kids would attend. We would place the menorah where it could be seen in the window of our home and light the candles. I always asked one question: why do we put the menorah in the window? As the years passed the children learned the answer: "Because we can!" they would yell as one voice. In my lifetime people around the world have not been free or felt free to place their candles in the window, and so it seems very important to me to do so. We have a ragged page of paper, saved from a Temple bulletin of about 14 years ago that has a little bit of reading for each night of Chanukah, a principle or an ideal to think of as you light the candles. For me Chanukah is about justice and freedom and standing up for principle, for keeping your light burning brightly no matter what. What could be more pc than that?

Health "care?" and The Hospital

Wow, do I love getting (dare I say it?) middle-aged. I won't say the O word because I am just not there yet. So I woke on a recent morning with abdominal pain that would stop a mule in its tracks. After toughing it out for several hours and assuring my husband that "of course he should go to work I would be fine" (mimicking the old Jewish joke about sitting in the dark) I crawled into the emergency room in my pajamas with tears streaming down my face. The brought me back after allowing a suitable period of suffering in the waiting room during which an elderly man brought me a wheelchair and two elderly female patients felt so bad for me they were holding my hand and patting my head and yelling at the triage nurse. They fairly promptly shot me up with dilaudid (kind of like pharmaceutical heroin) and other sorts of things. They admitted me. They poked holes in me. They took pictures of every part of my body with every type of imaging device known to man except a camera. They found a number of things wrong with me, none of which explained the sudden onset acute abdominal pain. I awoke from the initial round of medication with a blinding and intractable headache. They offered me more dilaudid (ordered for stomach pain which went away!) but nothing else because nothing was ordered for a headache. I refused. The headache continued. They determined that my medical history included migraine so the on-call doc called in a migraine medication which is intended to be taken every 30 minutes or so until the migraine is broken. She ordered it once every 6 hours. So even if I had had a migraine, it would have done no good. Even so it did no good since I didn't have a migraine. Every time I said I had a headache they offered me dilaudid and this drug. I kept telling them I really did not have a heroin headache, they kept offering me dilaudid (ordered for abdominal pain, long since gone). After four days of this I managed to acquire a tylenol. They still didn't know what was wrong with my stomach but by God they found everything else possible to find. I figured if they kept me much longer they'd kill me off. So I went in to the hospital with "something wrong with my stomach" and I got out with "something wrong with my stomach". They placed a brand new IV hours before I went home, even though they knew I was going home. My arms have track marks, tape marks and scabs where they yanked the skin off. The back of my left hand is black. The back of my arm is black and blue where they taped a plastic bag to cover an IV port when I demanded a shower (I had to be punished for that!). I am exhausted from lack of sleep, my back is broken from the bed, I am broke from the co-pay and out of pocket expense (my old coverage didn't have that) and I am not entirely sure it was worth it. I am now facing numerous specialist visits and the mystery continues. Hospitals seem to specialize in MRSA and indignity. Overworked nurses try and overworked aides often don't. If your doctor is good, and demanding, it helps, but they don't have much time either. If you don't have someone to demand answers and care for you, you are in trouble, at the bottom of the list. Lots of people have written educated and well founded articles, books and letters about the state of health care in this country. Personal experience, however, makes me think that the term "heath care" is an oxymoron.

Drama - Who Needs It?

Wow! What a month. I could write volumes about how I felt when Obama won the election and what it was like to watch his acceptance speech; which was more about watching the people watching him than about actually watching him (except for that dress, of course). But people smarter and more articulate than I have already written volumes and so I won't. In November, with the exception of the election, I was consumed with my family's personal drama. It is a drama that is being replicated across America and it was scary and hard. The short version: like many other families, we were faced with a looming balloon and refinance. Unfortunately our home has lost some value and would not appraise for what we paid. Additionally, my husband's unemployment has had a less than salutary effect on our credit. And so we contacted our mortgagor who wanted no part. The short version: we told the mortgagor what we could afford and basically said....if not, we walk away. My father is coming to live with us and I couldn't see moving him and then possibly having to move again. I thought we should simply bring on the crisis and see where it led. I spent a huge amount of time simply hoping for some sign of what I was supposed to do. But then I figured out what I could do and said its this or nothing. Then I worked really hard to be ok with walking away if that was what was right and best for our family. Just as we were preparing to sign a lease and move, our mortgagor agreed to rewrite our mortgage for an amount the house is really worth! A small miracle for our family. Still a struggle but a miracle nonetheless. And a personal triumph for me. I negotiated something, the hard way, and it worked! And then my birthday, and family visiting and all that. What a month of ups and downs, fear and faith, the unknown and the concrete result. It has been a tiring time being caught up in my personal drama. I prefer others' drama for subject matter and will return to those observations anon.

What Did He choose?

In response to my tiny little fan base, I feel the need to give the punch line. I did let him "choose" his punishment, after much discussion. He "chose" the same punishment I imposed on him. What a surprise! Later in the week, we permitted him to go off to Universal for Halloween Horror Nights (eeuw) with other like minded teenage boys. This was the test. He had three checkpoints; first call before you leave and say who is driving and what the agenda is, second call by ten to let us know if you are coming home or sleeping elsewhere and, three tell us where you are sleeping if not coming home. First...great. Second...text message saying he wouldn't be home (not bad but a call was required). Third...claimed he had told one of us where he would be staying prior to leaving (ok, turns out he did). So he graded himself a B- . That seemed pretty fair. We are still working on the communication issue. It really does change things when he is out riding around in cars. When he was just running the neighborhood, I could always just drive around and find him. Now, the phone is a crucial lifeline for both of us and enables us to sleep to some small extent. He seems to be starting to get it. But will I get over it?

Mom, I'm Not Really That Bad

So... this must be written about. I'm a little slow this week, the week has gone by me too fast, partially a product of total non-productivity last weekend; I didn't make the slightest dent in my ever-growing list. Friday night... the boy wonder is off and running with his buddies as usual. Supposed to call by 9:30 or so. Calls at 10:15 says they are at the ocean walk at the movies. I say ok, dome right home after the movie. I thought they were just starting so I figured 12:30 or 1 a.m. I later learned that he had come out in the midde to call when he realized the time. But I digress. I went to bed. Dad came to bed at 2, I asked if the boy wonder was home. No, he growled. I got up, turned the porch light back on and proceeded to stay up most of the rest of the night. The good news is I pretty much knew where he was and proceeded there at the crack of dawn to drag his skinny butt home. All the parents know how the night was, long and agonizing. He is generally a very good kid and does very little to complain about. What is amusing about all this is that in discussing the consequences, first he just cried and sulked. Then he said "well, if I was kidnapped or dead you still wouldn't have known where I was and you wouldn't have grounded me; after all, all I did was fall asleep." (I'm thinking this is my fault; the son of a lawyer, what did I expect?) When that didn't fly he came back with "I agree that there should be consequences, it is fair, but I want to impose them on myself, I don't want you to do it." So I am left trying to decide whether he has a finely tuned sense of justice or....I don't know. He just keeps saying "mom, I'm not really that bad. I could be using drugs, running the streets, flunking school." The real problem is, he's right.

Sukkot

I learned today that this is a most complex festival, particularly the timing...who knew. This festival, coming hard on the heels of Yom Kippur, is an affirmation of our relationship with God, with faith and with our own best selves. The sukkah, we know and we are told, is a fragile thing; a frail construct that we beautify with the work of our hands and our imaginings of harvests we no longer participate in. But the roof of the Sukkah is left open to the sky, to God. This is in contrast with our homes, our usual dwellings, which represent our wealth, our prosperity, our worldly achievements. These structures are closed; they surround us and keep nature out. The Sukkah invites not only nature, but God, in.
There are a great many ideas about Sukkot but I like this one: that we live in our sukkah to be open to God; to demonstrate that we live by faith and not by our earthly goods.
We are living in a time in which our material prosperity is crumbling around us. I felt this idea in the parsha deeply because everywhere I turn there is a story. A story of someone’s misfortune, distress, loss and fear of what the future might bring. Everyone is struggling in some way. Many have lost their jobs, many are fearful of losing them, many have lost their life savings, their 401K or retirement money, many are losing their homes or fear they will – with good reason. Parents are less worried about the long term and more worried about how to fill their cars, feed their families and keep the lights on.
People are very afraid, and yet we have just come from affirming our faith in our Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur observances. But…. we are not accustomed to living by our faith; living in our faith. We are accustomed to find comfort, our security, in our houses, our jobs and our bank accounts. In this parsha, God covenants with us that God’s grace and mercy are available to us, at all times and in all places. All at once the Sukkah, open to God, seems the more durable of the two structures, a house built by faith and not by money, which seems the more transient currency.

Introspective Holidays

So...the two biggie holidays for Jews are just past. Smack in the middle of two weeks in a row. These holidays demand introspection, self-examination and, if possible, reflective self-improvement. Despite a chronically busy life, I always enjoy these holidays, and the accompanying thoughtfulness. It was hard this year, however, to focus inward with the world crashing down around our ears and the election looming as one of the most important of my lifetime. There is a line in our liturgy that says something like, this group confession is ok if you have offended God, but it is not good enough if you have hurt another person. For that, you must make real amends. I don't actually think too many people notice this, or take it particularly seriously. I like this idea a lot; that what you do to real people, here on earth, during your lifetime, is what really counts. In other words, say what you will, its your actions that count. We could all use a little of this. A little less greed, arrogance, self-righteousness and a little more empathy, compassion and humility. This might have been a good idea on Wall Street too, even in the presidency (think about the war that only three people now think is a good thing - McCain, Cheney, Bush). Think what a legacy those qualities might have achieved. Sadly, we are not used to seeing these qualities in our leaders. Obviously a certain amount of confidence, even certitude, is good in a leader. But I think this may be part of what seems so unfamiliar about Obama, he does not come across as arrogant and self-righteous and it is alien. As personal disasters spread across our country and our world like a virus, we will need all the empathy, compassion and humility we can get...and a happy new year to you too.

Explain It To Me

Trying for some real consistency here, not every day but often, often, often. So...tonight McSame and O'Bama have at it again. Hopefully someone has told McCain that interrupting people just makes him look stupid; no, I take it back, the stupider the better. I believe that Obama refrained from aggression in the last debate in order to ensure looking "presidential" but I really hope he attacks a bit more and does not let some of the more blatant posturing and downright falsehoods pass. I still don't understand how Obama's numbers can be so close to McCain's (notwithstanding that he is doing better) when this was the election the dems couldn't lose and should be even more so now. This does not, of course, take into consideration the whole issue of whether America is really ready for an african-american preisdent; another discussion. While I support Obama, I am confused about what is right for the future, the future seems terribly complex to me and I am not sure anyone really understands it. If they do, they are doing a tragically bad job of explaining it in real, pragmatic and useful terms to the rest of us. Generalities and political posturing are great for showing the big differences between the candidates, but our form of government doesn't allow for it to be that simple. For the big things to really change, an awful lot of people with very varied agendas would have to "get it" all at the same time and with the same purpose....not very likely.

The Difference Between Silk and Polyester

The difference between silk and polyester is that only the good silk bouse can be ruined by your husband in the dryer. The ugly polyester always survives. It is some perverted rule of life. Another difference between silk and polyester is that silk will never fool you, but polyester might. I have a very good eye for fabric, particularly good fabric. I can always spot silk but occasionally I am fooled by polyester these days. It seems that they are able to make some wonderful synthetics these days, some quite amazing. But on second look, or second feel, I can tell. I had an opportunity to shop today amongst things that were considerably better than what I normally have an opportunity to shop amongst. This is the case in part because I live in a non-urban relatively unsophisticated part of the world, and one in which there is little climate change. It is such a pleasure to try on clothes that have correct fit and cut, even if you can only afford them rarely and on clearance. The older I get the more I am beginning to believe in what my mother told me about this (although she did not follow her own sage advice) which is that it is better to own a few really good things than a closet full of dreck. I still am not down to the "few things" but I am getting closer all the time. Even when shopping for less expensive things now, I do not buy them unless the fit just right and look expensive. And taking the advice of another wise woman, my step-mother, I now delete things often; particularly things that don't fit just so or which I bought because I thought I "needed" something rather than because it was just the right thing. So, I bought a few things. I probably shouldn't have, but they are much needed, just right, gorgeous and they were on sale. So I will try to resist guilt just enjoy. Not enough people really get the difference between silk and polyester.

I Might Be Laughing

I cannot, cannot, cannot understand how anyone could have watched Sarah Palin's performance last night and thought "gee, that's just what we need" gosh darn it. When did we decide that education and experience are a bad thing in our public servants. Just because we want a fresh approach or a new view doesn't make a solid education an elitist or insider requirement. Do you want the high school dropout running your business? All that folksiness was so over the top that I thought I was going to puke and I hope that most people see through it, whether they yearn for familiarity or not. "Say it ain't so Joe" ? My child has never been allowed to say ain't and neither should our national leaders. We are a laughingstock in the world for so many reasons, I can't imagine the hilarity (and abject terror) amongst our allies as they watch us taking this woman seriously. The format of the debate helped her significantly as she was never pressed in follow up to actually respond to the question asked. She clearly did not know what an Achilles heel was and wouldn't have admitted error, mistake or change of ideas even if she had. So she just repeated the campaign speech she had memorized for the third or fourth time, ignoring the questions altogether. I am a mother, I was never a mother before I was a mother. Nature and temperament and, yes, asking questions, made me the good mother I am. Being a good mother, even being a good lawyer, does not make me qualified to be Vice President of the United States, it doesn't even make me qualified to be the CEO of a medium size company for crying out loud. She is insulting to educated rural dwellers, she is insulting to women by trading on her gender and her children as if it makes her better, she is insulting to our intelligence. If it weren't so scary, I might be laughing.

Don't Look a Baby in the Eye

Like, I suspect, millions of other Americans I was glued to the vice presidential debate this evening. First, let's get the expected out of the way; yes Sarah "Moosekiller" Palin did better than everyone expected. Who won? Who knows. On content, obviously Biden but is that really how the average American decides? Who knows. What kills me, and I have commented on this before, is all the fluff that obscures the real issues. Even Biden had a disingenuous moment when he pretended that the Senate had not already passed a spending bill that included a provision lifting the ban on offshore drilling, which they did while the crisis on wall street had the news cycle in a headlock. Sarah Palin is the queen of fluff. America, the troops, her kids, apple pie are the centerpiece of her presentation and around her swirls media hype about the choice of moderator, about the media itself, etc. Sarah Palin holds herself out in the debate as a supporter of women's rights but wants rape victims to pay for their own tests. Nobody called her on it. In part because the media is busy with the fluff. While we talk about the flulff, the real stuff is obscured. The level of ignorance is appalling, including her belief that the role of the vice presidency can be expanded beyond the constitution (thank you Dick Cheney), and that being the mayor of Wasilla, Alaska constitutes executive experience in the presidential sense. What are we thinking in this country, opposing beliefs and views aside, to even consider that this woman is remotely qualified for national office. Are we really willing to hand over our children's futures to someone who doesn't know the difference between Iran and Iraq, who doesn't understand the problems of Afghanistan and Pakistan, who thinks "nucular" weapons are just the be all and who believes that diversity in her family suits her for global diplomacy. I don't often play with babies, but today I did. Let me tell you, it was pretty hard to look him in the eye what with all that we have going on in our national life.

Does Anyone Out There Get It?

I have been listening, practically non-stop, to the "bailout" news (I use the term news loosely). I do not really understand much of what is under all the blather. My husband says that if every person with a mortgage in the United States defaulted and they all went into foreclosure, and they were all worth a million or two, it would not add up to 700 billion. I think he has a point. A blogger that I read regularly suggested that the government extend insurance on the loans rather than buying all the bad paper. The other side says, no, the taxpayer would have no equity. I say HA! The chances of the taxpayer getting anything back from this catastrophe seem infinitesimal. I do know that while all this noise has been happening the Senate passed a spending bill and sent it to the President and they managed to slip in lifting the ban on off-shore drilling! But the "news" has yet to pick up that little gem. It is interesting that, when asked, no pundit, commentator, or otherwise allegedly erudite personage broadcasting about this "bailout" has no answer regarding what would happen if they didn't pass it. I certainly don't know, I don't really know anybody who does. I know bits and pieces of what others say might happen but.... I think my brother might know, but he's the only one.

Men Can't See The Socks

Yes, I know too much has been written about the differences between men and women; all that Mars and Venus stuff. Everyone has a theory about the differences, or a version. My favorite is the one a friend told me some yeaers ago. I was complaining about the white socks that always inhabit my world (this was several years ago, now many of the little sock monsters are black). My husband wears white socks, my son wears those little short white socks (now black since he is a teenager and white is not hip). When he takes them off they fold inside out into little balls which land absolutely everywhere. I believe I have written about this previously but those little sock balls are amazing. They are in the bookcases, under the beds, in the cabinets, in the corners, inside other laundry. He runs out of socks and I buy more knowing I will fnd all the sock balls sooner or later. I have a stack of unmatched socks on an end table in my family room in the faint hope that I will find the mates. I cannot bear to put unmatched socks away in a drawer. My husband, on the other hand, just makes little piles of socks everywhere and walks by them for weeks and weeks. So, my friend's version goes, men are hunters and women are gatherers. Therefore, when I walk around the house, I see the socks as something that requires gathering. Men, on the other hand, cannot see the socks because they are not moving! They are not something to be hunted. If you want the men to see the socks, his version goes, you should make them into something akin to a cat toy with a string that you tantalizingly drag slowly across the floor. While I have my doubts that this would motivate the men in my house to pick up the socks, and it would be much more effort than it is worth, the visual is pretty funny.

Don't Buy Bottled Water

So now everyone is beginning to be aware of the huge plastic bag problem on this planet, and in this country in particular. And there has been a little talk on esoteric "green" web sites about plastic bottles. When green was becoming the fad and fashion of the moment, the networks even talked about the bottle problem. So some of us rushed out and bought these great indestructible reusable water bottles - Nalgene. Now, these bottles are poison! Good Grief. Trying to do the right thing becomes more difficult every single day. And we still buy bottled water in immense quantities, throwing away a ridiculous amount of plastic just to have a drink of purified, pristine water. What happened to having a drink of regular old water, from the tap or at least from the fridge door? I must say though, that the bag thing is getting better. Our "upscale" grocery has seen folks with their own bags for some time; and they sell the little square indestructible bags made of I don't know what. But on my trips to Walmart, those behind me in line always look at me as if I were there to personally torture them when I take out my bags and pack my own groceries. It really never takes longer, or not much, than using the million and one badly packed plastic bags the store personnel would pack for me; but you would think I was preventing the fire department from getting to their homes. On my bi-weekly trip recently, however, I spotted two other people with their own bags. I was stunned, I was astounded, I was amazed. Little by little we might be getting the message. Now if I could just find a water bottle that fits in my purse and that won't leach poisonous plastic into my body.

Water with calories

I was watching TV. There was an amazing and ridiculous commercial in which the people are all ecstatically happy because their water has only 25 calories instead of some stupidly larger amount. Add this to the list of things I absolutely don't get (longer every day). Water is water. It is not supposed to have calories; or minerals or salt or vitamins. If you need vitamins, eat spinach or take your centrum. There is no need to pay $2 a bottle for water with vitamins. I find that I have to actually read the labels of bottled water (which I almost never buy any more) to see if they have added sodium chloride; salt! There is no need to buy water with salt. Many bottled waters claim that the added "minerals" are to enhance "flavor". Water doesn't really have flavor, isn't that sort of the point? If you need salt, add it to your dinner in small quantities. If you like "minerally" tasting water, then buy water that tastes that way naturally (I favor Pellegrino, but its fizzy). If you want flavor, buy a beverage that is actually flavored like something. And for goodness sake why would you buy water with added calories???? If I wanted more calories I would eat a hot fudge sundae or some yummy fried food, I certainly wouldn't choose to have my deliciously illicit extra calories in a bottle of water. I drink water because it is good for me and.....because it doesn't have any calories.

Talking Heads

This is a subject I am always passionate about but during election season the talking head problem becomes an out of control plague. There are legitimate experts who opine on various things in all manner of public fora, some are interesting, some are not, some I agree with, some I don't. They do, however, have training, education, a fund of specialized knowledge that entitles them on some level to inflict their opinions on the rest of us. Then there are the empty suits; these are the apparently untrained nonspecialists who have convinced the powers that be that their opinion would be a good thing to broadcast. So I ask myself why I should care about these opinions, why I should listen to these opinions; what makes them worth anything. The answer, I fear, is that I don't know. I have opinions, why shouldn't they. But how do you elevate your opinion into something worth high pay and air wave time? This continues to be a mystery to me. Scarier yet is the fact that Americans seem to believe and place great stock in almost anyone's opinion if it is publicized; apparently if you are published you must have special knowledge and therefore should be believed. The average American does not appear to question public opinions. The beauty of America: everyone is entitled to an opinion and entitled to express it. I am free to turn them off.

I Love the Sad Fall

I love the fall. I am sad that now that I live in Florida, there is no real natural autumn. There are no turning leaves, there is no smell of wood fire or roasting green chilies, no need for the cozy sweater. There is a subtle change in which the hot muggy days turn to temperate lovely weather that stays the same day after day. There is something to be said for no real muddy, icy winter. Nevertheless. Fall for me is marked mostly now by the cycle of the Jewish holidays, the wonderful self-examination, majestic and sorrowful music, confession and forgiveness, the renewal and the ritual. It seems odd to me that this is so, as I did not mark my days in this way as a child, but it is so now. The fall and early winter is also the time I mark the passing of so many of my loved ones, family and friends who have died. I miss each one in a special and unique way. Our memorial candle burns on the stove many nights throughout this time of year. I find it comforting. I love that we mark the deaths of our loved ones in the small flame that burns for 24 hours, it reminds us to think of them for that brief time each year. I still miss my grandmother these many years later, I miss my friend Sylvie, I miss my dogs. There are many others, more the older I grow, but you get the idea. So fall is a muted symphony of colors, smells and memories, sad but I love it anyway.

Sarah Palin is the Devil

Why is it nobody can see this? I am confused by this. Well, maybe not the devil, but she is one scary broad. I was listening to an interview with someone who had decided to vote for her, but not McCain apparently, because of her positions and views and her insightful comments?????? McCain, we all know is older, and has some health issues, so this 39(?) year old woman is positioned a heartbeat (as they say) away from the presidency and she doesn't know what NATO is??? My high school student knows, at least the purpose of it. So, she is finally interviewed sort of seriously and not only doesn't know the prime doctrine of the republican sitting president but seems not to actually know the platform and positions of her own presidential candidate. (She isn't running alone?) It is not that I disagree with her "positions", I do; it is not that I dislike her lifestyle (insofar as it includes guns, etc.), I do; it is that she is ignorant and appears to be uneducated (at least undereducated) and has less experience at anything than a marshmallow. For some reason, some of the so-called "liberal" press finds humor in this, Saturday Night Life does a skit in which Tina Fey so accurately portrays her that it is scary. Everybody laughs. but it isn't funny; the very fact that she is the centerpiece of SNL means that she is the news cycle, not the issues, not Obama. This is a woman who believes that we should not only oppose abortion, not only pass laws to prevent abortion, but that we should actually amend the Constitution of the United States (a document I hold particularly dear) to permanently deprive women of the right to choose. This, by the way, is one of the only concrete positions I have been able to adequately identify and ascribe to her other than the right to own guns, shoot moose and drill for oil indiscriminately. This was to be the election the Democrats couldn't lose? How could they be doing it so handily?

Self-Centered? Or Lazy?

So, what a ridiculous amount of time I have neglected this. And so much goes on in the world, and my life. I thought nobody was reading it (except my mom, thanks mom) and so I let other things become more important. That's the self-centered part. The lazy part is, well, I let other things become more important. What I forgot is that I write this because I like to, because it is good for me and the heck with you all. Self-centeredness is a scourge, every time things go bizarro, it is about that. If we all just spent five minutes a day thinking about the welfare of others the world would be a much better place. Of course as a mom, the flip side is that I probably spend too much time thinking about my kid and what might happen to him. Genuine compassion, empathy and altruism are not the same as insane anxiety. So, for what its worth, I am back. I will try to keep this up. Better to keep trying than not to do it at all, even if I flop!

What is Important?

As I grow older, I have a very different view of what is important. When I was a child, getting older was important. When I was a young woman, the attention of men was important. Now that I am middle aged, not only is the attention of men hard to come by, it is much less important. I find that the attention of men generally adds little to my general well-being; it is nice for a moment, gives a little flush of pleasure which is fleeting at best. The attention of women is more often real attention. It means real listening, real comfort, real help. We are taught to exercise our intellects in the company of men and our emotions in the company of women, but that does us a disservice. Men don't appreciate my intellect, often, and my emotions need little more exercise; they get plenty. Women, like it or not will tell you the truth generally. Men will often tell you what you want to hear. I used to prefer the sugar-coated version, today I prefer the truth.

Resolution

So, for my two or three faithful readers, I have become a grave disappointment. Life overtakes me and my resolution goes right out the window! I made a resolution this year, something I don't usually do. But my resoution was not to lose weight, it was not to look younger, act different, clean the house, etc.; it was none of the typical resolutions. Rather, I resolved to be consistent. It is harder than you think. Groceries, laundry, meals, work, teenage homework, school projects, house of worship commitments, parents, brothers, husband looking for work; wow time just runs out. But that is an excuse. I love writing this blog and of course, I always put myself on the bottom of the list. I should be able to find five minutes a day for myself; this might even lead to going back to voice lessons or having massages or some of the other things I love and do just for myself. So, I am climbing back on the consistency horse. God knows the world provides more than enough to write about. Hopefully I will still have an interested reader or two. Comment, criticize, post, e-mail. I would love to know you are out there. But if you are not, I will write anyway; I do it for myself.

Where the Fat Girls Shop

This is not a politically correct title, I know. But I was in a store. It didn't take me long to realize that this was a store where only people who were a junior size 1, 3 or 5 should shop, certainly not womanly people of a certain age. As I was glancing aound I realized there were a large number of obese teenagers or young adult women. They were all wearing junior size 1, 3 or 5. They were all exceeding obese. These junior sizes did not, on them, cover everything the designer intended them to cover, and then some. The skin showing was not the intended tight stomach or sexy navel, it was saggy, bulging excess. We see these girls/women everywhere. I often think, as I go about, don't people own mirrors, don't they use them? Don't people care how they look? Or are we all so arrogant and oblivious that we think that our flab looks good or attractive when squeezed out of clothes many sizes too small. Our body image in this country is so weird and distorted. Young women feel the need to starve themselves (and increasingly young men too) to be small enough to be "attractive". We nip and tuck ourselves to death, sometimes literally. People get gastric bypass operations and die because they can't stop eating. And then, the other side of the coin, morbidly fat people who believe themselves to be attractive and healthy. It is all quite scary. At least now I know where the fat girls shop.

Self-Help?

Americans have become obsessed with two things in the last few years - self-help books and reality tv. I am equally mystified by most of both. Not that I don't think helping yourself isn't a good thing, it is, but all this fatuous instruction by people with virtually no credentials that I can discern is a little hard to take. I think I am at least as smart as most of them, so why should I listen to them? Do I believe in the power of positive thinking, you bet. Do I think I can make a million dollars by visualizing myself as wealthy, not on your life. We have become such a weird nuts and fruitsy people that we have stopped believing in hard work as a pathway to success. On the other hand, we will volunteer to eat spiders, get dunked in dung, run barefoot through China and generally air our neuroses to millions of people for a few minutes of notoriety. I won't call it fame because I doubt most people can name the "contestants" on most of the reality shows five minutes after they are over. There is one type of reality show I do like; those shows on which people who are truly talented compete to live a dream through that talent. My two favorites are American Idol and Project Runway. Real people, with real talent, with real dreams; working hard. I like that.

How many places can you hide a sock?

So I have this child, and he is not naturally neat. As he has become a teenager, his propensity to heaps of garbage has grown, along with the heaps of garbage. Even as a small child, he was a pack rat, a hoarder of everything; bits of paper, rocks, sticks, trash of any kind. His greatest feat, however, is his ability to "leave" his socks, or distribute his socks, in places almost impossible to fathom. As a baby, there was no possible way to keep shoes on his feet. People would follow along after me saying politely "ma'am, I think this is yours", a tiny shoe in their hands. It was almost as difficult to keep socks on his feet; we had one of everything. As soon as he was old enough to actually take his socks off purposefully, he would roll them off, creating a little ball, and then toss them (at least that's what I assume he did). Since that time we have found socks in every conceivable place: behind books in the bookshelf, inside the vcr, under sofa cushions, in the sink, in the shower, in a bucket of electronics, in his school backpack, in the backseat of my car, in the yard and in any other weird place you can conjure up. He has always had a kind of blindness about trash, dirty clothes and clutter generally. As it piles up in his room, he just sits on top of it, he has always done this. If clean laundry finds its way into his room, he just puts it in a pile on the floor which gradually merges with the dirty laundry on the floor and then ends up right back in the laundry. We keep a fairly tidy house, and then there is his room. I can only hope that seeing the rest of the house will place images in his subconscious that will resurface someday, particularly if he hopes to marry. For now, I just close the door.

Women's Work

So, all two of you who read this regularly will see that I have changed the template! I cheated, it is offered as a stock template by this blog site. But all that pink was really getting on my nerves. Just because something is primarily intended for women (not exclusively mind you) doesn't mean it should be pink. So I think I will try this one for a few minutes and see what I think. Today was the day that decided me to lose the pink. I am mostly over the issue of people treating me in certain ways because I am a woman. When I became a lawyer I wasn't allowed to wear pants in the courtroom, doesn't that make a lot of other things seem minor? I had a judge yell at me "girl, go make some copies", the slights of the current marketplace pale by comparison. But, some days, it just gets to you. First, I am dealing with a company by phone and of course they assume I am a secretary. So no big. But tonight I attend a board meeting for an organization; I sit on the board. There are two women in attendance. One takes notes, one notices that nobody has put the food away; nobody else cares about either thing. Some days it is just annoying. But today I can wear whatever I want and I only make copies for myself.

I'm getting too old for this?

Well, I promised myself I would post to this blog consistently. And its only February and I am falling down on the job. I have been sick Let me tell you, being sick is not what it used to be! Twenty years ago (maybe less?) I got sick, I got well, it just didn't last too long. Now, good grief, it seems to last forever. So being sick joins the list of things I think, sometimes, I am too old for. I'm not really, many of those things I just don't want to have to learn, re-learn or do again. I finally master hooking up the computer, all those crazy wires and then I had to learn how to set up a wireless network. I just about have that down and then I have to figure out how to get the printer to work on the wireless; haven't got that one so everyone in the house has to print in my office. I love this of course since the teenager leaves foodwrappers and juice boxes in a swath everywhere he sits. Now I am trying to master the whole internet marketing thing, yikes! The hardest part is finding someone to explain it to you that speaks english rather than geek. I would like to change the template of this blog, for instance, to one not preset on blogspot, can't do it; but I will. It is just tiring having to learn all this new stuff, I prefer some days to exercise my tired brain cells by doing the New York Times Sunday Crossword Puzzle (they say this will keep my brain young?) I still can't fix the dryer or the air conditioning, but I'm not really too old, just unwilling. It's good to be back.

On Hearing and the Invisibility of the Old

ON HEARING AND THE INVISIBILITY OF THE OLD

I want to express my gratitude for an internet blog such as this one in its endeavor to make women more visible – at all ages and in all circumstances. The term “invisible women” covers so many topics in so many places that it is hard to know where to begin to talk about it. I chose the topic of “hearing.” Women with white hair and wrinkled faces and bad hearing look alike to those who are accustomed to being with different groups. American women tend to become invisible as individuals after menopause and even more so into old age. Elderly people, not just women, who become increasingly deaf are likely to find themselves isolated from the world around them. Other people often give up trying to talk to the deaf as too much of a struggle.

I lost some 80% of the hearing in my right ear when a tumor broke the eardrum years ago, but I can still hear reasonably well with my left ear, depending. My son and his wife suggested I was playing games if I said I couldn’t hear them because sometimes, obviously, I could even without my hearing aids. This prompted me to pay attention to whether and when I could hear. What made the difference? Sometimes air pressure -- heavy, sullen days were the worst. Sometimes wax or dirt blocked my ears – getting them cleaned out by a professional from time to time made a difference. Too, if I had a sniffly nose and my eustachian tubes were clogged, my ability to hear went down.

I tended to miss some sound registers. I discovered that I could fill in with guesswork that took advantage of context and became so good at it as to deceive myself as well as others into believing I could hear well enough without the aids. Sometimes I encountered people who would speak in an aggressively soft voice, as if testing me. Then trying to hear became exhausting. When you have to guess, discard, and search again mentally to discover just what it is that you are hearing, having a conversation becomes hard work.

Too, just where a speaker was in physical relation to me was important. I needed to have someone looking at me when he or she spoke. If his or her head was turned, I couldn’t get the speech, often even with hearing aids in my ears. Generally, I could hear someone quite close; with more distance the problem increased. And other sounds intruding – music or television in the home, diners in a restaurant – would isolate me from companions even more.

Women should refuse to sit in neglected silence.

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Learner's? Permit

OMG, I live in one of those crazy states where the government has decided that it is a good idea for 15 year olds to be turned loose as drivers on the roads of our communities. Well, my beloved child hit the golden 15 this past weekend and is off to the DMV to take the "road rules" test and obtain his pass to the American Dream - driving! He does not have to be insured. He does not have to be added as a driver. He does not have to take a road test or driving school of any kind. He had to take an online course on the evils of drugs and alcohol, useful but not so much since he can only drive with one of us in the car? So we might notice the odor of alcohol; you think? He has to take a 15 minute test on the road signs; mostly the shapes like those baby toys where the baby has to put a diamond in the diamond hole. And he has to take a "road rules" test, 15 minutes. But he does not have to show that he can apply them. $20 later, he'll be on the road. I guess they figure if a licensed adult is in the car nothing bad can happen. I can't imagine what I can do to prevent an accident from the passenger seat in the split second I might have to speak advice. I am short and certainly could not reach the pedals. I am menopausal and certainly could not get a coherent thought out in reflexive time. I am getting older and do not have the reflexes of a teenager. So, life will be interesting for the next few months until he gains some confidence (and then God help us). But I do have a one year reprieve on that unbelievable insurance bill.

Loss

Another friend in the wind; another death, they are coming too soon, too close together. An iconic, legendary, grumpy old man who helped countless people put their shattered lives and their shattered selves back together. He lost his wife, also a legendary soul, and despite the attempts of many to care for him, to inspire him to care for himself, he died on Sunday. He left behind a huge group of men, dependent on his guidance, his pithy truth, now leaderless. But they have each other and they will find their way. I have memories of him, many of them verbal; advice given and repeated by many, passed from friend to friend. This man was loved by so very many, but I wonder if the weight of that love, the weight of being iconic, grew to be an awful lot. The burden of being the "helper", the sage, is a great one. I always thought he loved it, but he shared it with his wife of so many years. He never would care for himself, and his wife understood that only he could decide to do that. Since her death, he let himself be cared for more and more by those around him. As his health deteriorated, he ended up in the hospital and after heart surgery, just wouldn't eat; as if without his wife he just had no reason to. Finally, in the end, he told the men he was "just tired"; I understand. In a way that I never thought I would, I understand. He will be missed, but legends are timeless by definition.

Gaylord

Is not my real name. It is the name of my mother's dead sister. She is the one of whom my mother says "she was the best" "she was the nicest", etc. She died quite young, a very long time ago. My mother, many years ago, paid me an exquisite compliment by telling me I was most like her sister Gaylord. If my child had been a girl she would have been Shaina Gaylord (but he wasn't and he isn't). There is something liberating about writing under an "assumed" name - I love that description. It is like going on vacation alone to some far away place and making up a persona for yourself. Blogging gives you a forum and an assumed name gives you a sense of freedom. It is false of course, since you provide your blog address to everyone you have ever known. So why not put my own name to it? I don't know, I am contemplating changing that but haven't decided. Even if everyone knows who I am, having a different name is fun, in some weird limited way. Using the name gave me the courage to start this blog with an entry about the "red hat" thing (you can still read it under November), which apparently offended quite a few folks. Amazingly and unlike my "real self", I didn't care. If for no other reason, I think I will keep my Aunt Gay's name for now, I don't think she'd mind.

The Spandex Restricted List

Yes...I believe there is one. I also think you all know whether you are on it or not. I know I am. I believe most Americans are on it. I also believe most Americans do not own or utilize mirrors appropriately. If they did, they would be much more aware of whether they are or should be on the spandex restricted list. I am convinced that most Americans do not look at their butts in the mirror before leaving their homes in the morning, giving rise to an aesthetic crisis of some magnitude at a time of day when a person is insufficiently fortified with caffeine to withstand it. In larger urban areas the number of young lithe (probably anorexic) folk seems greater and therefore the list might be a bit shorter in these areas. Everywhere else, and particularly at family resort destinations (one of which I live quite near), the list is enormous and almost all encompassing. There are some simple possible rules of thumb. If you don't own a bicycle, don't wear spandex. If you are not at 20% bmi or less, don't wear spandex. Unless you are going to work out at the gym and you are already in great muscular shape, don't wear spandex. Spandex is not a fashion statement of any reasonable sort. If I work out, I wear comfortable, cotton, clothing that breathes. Spandex is tight and shiny and calls attention to all the wrong things. Worst of all, spandex forces all the extra out the top and bottom. If you have extra, don't wear spandex; and check the mirror.

Friends in the Wind

During this past season of Hannukah (only one of seventeen spellings), a friend of ours suffered a massive coronary during the night. Come morning he was alive but significantly oxygen deprived. He and his family lived out west, as we had for years but no longer do. As in every situation of this sort we felt terribly powerless, but more so for the distance. When tragedy strikes I tend to task my way through, make food, help my elders, dress the youngsters and all such things that need to be done. As we received e-mail updates on his condition and it became clear that the family was gathering, that he would never awaken from his coma, there was nothing we could do but feel sad, and a little scared. We aren't old, but he was younger, one child in college and one in high school (as is ours, but we started late!). The suddenness of it, the finality of the attack was frightening; the thought that there would never be a final word, a goodby, a hug, a soft kiss. And on night six of Hannukah as we gathered with our family and friends to light the sixth candle, I asked a moment of silence for this dear soul in his fight for life and we lit a special candle for him. I later learned that, as a result of the time difference, he died at just about the time we held him in our hearts for that brief silence. It is hard to describe his family; his parents, his wife, his children. All are extraordinary and special people, talented, bright, loving. They all had an extraordinary relationship with one another. I know they still suffer. We are powerless to help in any way. And so today I listened to the Grateful Dead by way of tribute, he would understand; but he's gone.

To Do Lists Redux

Okay, so I'm back on the to do list rant. Tell me, how can some little girl's to do lists be a book? How can people actually pay to read it? What is interesting about that? A to do list is all the things you have not yet accomplished. So not only is she young and inexperienced, apparently she has a long list of things not accomplished. Why are we interested in that? Why don't we want to know what has been accomplished? Or is the best we can do to applaud the much lesser accomplishment of having created a to do list? I think we should like to see a "Done" list; a list of all that has already been accomplished. Or, even better, a list of "what I am not going to think about today so I can live in the moment". It can be argued that a "Done" list is the past and a "To Do" list is the future. So is a non-list the present? Even better, maybe we should simply abandon lists (yes I keep coming back to that) and live what is in front of us, each and every moment of each and every day. Would everything get done? No. Would everything that absolutely has to be done get done? I think so.

Consistency Counts?

Wow. I get all kinds of crap on line about how to make more money, how to improve your lifestyle, your self esteem, your image, your bank account. Most of it is visibly crap; it is all about how to get something for almost nothing (the almost is always what you have to pay for the larger version of the advice!). We live in this amazing culture where people actually believe that you can become a millionaire doing no work. This is astonishing. When did we become so gullible? When did we decide as a culture that we were entitled to something for nothing? Hard to say, but I don't know of any real millionaires (other than lottery winners) who got that way without a whole bunch of hard work, and some smarts, and some luck. So as I was reading one of the many newsletters I get from successful people (at least so they say) I read an interesting idea. It was that what counts more than anything is consistency; reliability and constancy. That if you continually show up, suit up and do what you say, you will succeed. Perhaps great success takes more, being willing to take risks and do more than the next guy, but you will succeed by some reasonable measure. If you want to write, write...every day. If you want to lose weight, eat less...every day. Show up for work, volunteer, keep your word...every day. So for this new year, I think this is a worthy goal. I will not resolve to lose weight, get in shape, be more organized, all the usual. This new year I resolve to be more consistent; let's see where it leads.