Kadima...קדימה

Reason #457 to Make Aliyah

2008-09-28T07:12:00.003-04:00

In the course of his all-in-one-breath stream-of-consciousness halacha survey course, my rav in Israel mentions around this time of year (or three weeks ago) that it's a minhag to wear white on Rosh HaShana because we're trying to appear as pure as possible when approaching G-d, therefore, "here is Israel, if you decide you're going to wear your black outfit on Rosh HaShana, you're very likely going to stick out like a sore thumb."

But here, quite aside from any mention of the cardinal rule (is that a Catholic phrase??) of not wearing white after Labor Day...even if it's sufficiently warm outside to wear a white-themed summer-y outfit, it's nearly a foregone conclusion that they're going to air-condition the shul to within an inch of your life.

So much for minhag...

In case anyone was wondering

2008-03-25T23:37:00.002-04:00

י"ט אדר ב', תשס"ח

...well, no, probably not. I doubt there's anyone out there left to wonder. But just in case there is, I'll clarify that I didn't come back to the blogosphere to write about bugs. I'm trying to come back in general because it's good for me to write about things in daily life -- it keeps me noticing a level of detail and thinking about wording and new perspectives the way I might not otherwise. But I'm lazy, so I often think of a good post, even start writing it, and then wander off. When I manage to get as far as the "post" button it's a success, even if it is about, uh, things no one wants to read about. So there. I'll keep trying to talk to myself, and you can keep not reading, ok?

Eeeeeeek!

2008-03-17T20:53:00.007-04:00

י"א אדר ב', תשס"ח

WARNING: If you are particularly squeamish of bugs, I'd advise against reading -- or even glancing at -- this post.

I had the rather harrowing experience this morning of having my gradual waking-up process (three pre-set alarms, additional snoozes) interrupted by suddenly noticing a large dark spot, which appeared to be moving, on the corner of the ceiling above my bed. I sleep in a loft bed, so this was really quite close to me, but lacking any visual acuity to speak of, I couldn't consider doing the first thing about it without a pair of supplemental lenses. In a flash I was down the ladder, had my glasses on, and, armed with a drinking glass and a paper brochure, was back up on my bed to play captor.

I have a pretty clear-cut feeling about insects: I have to be in control. I can look at them with fascination if they're behind glass, or even outside if they don't sting and/or I can move faster than they. But in my own domain, the cup-and-paper trick* better work, and it better be easy. Thankfully, in this particular case it was, and I relocated the intruder to a home many feet below my kitchen window. What I'd like to know, however, is how it got in. I've only ever seen anything like this creature once before in my life, and that was a year ago in this very apartment. Twice in a year and a half is hardly enough to declare infestation...but I'd really rather not see another!

I am far from a stellar housekeeper, but what we are talking about is not the kind of bug you get when your dishes sit in the sink too long. I've maybe seen one roach in this apartment, ever, although I get the occasional silverfish. This gigantic specimen, though, is a creepy-crawly-phobe's nightmare...which is why I've spent this much space babbling before posting a picture, to reduce the likelihood of someone catching a glimpse by accident. The photo below was not taken this morning, while I was frantically trying to pre-empt a leap into my comforter. Is was taken during last year's sighting, against the much more advantageous (for me) backdrop of the bathtub:

*cup-and-paper trick: If you're not familiar with this, it's invaluable. Many times I've been the hero in a Bug Situation, because I'm ok with handling them as long as I'm not physically touching them. This is a two-handed endeavor: Take a cup, glass, bowl, etc. Ideally, the mouth should be small enough to easily cover the bug on one try but not so large that you have trouble holding the paper cover over it once you have your prey. Clear is nice, because then you can reassure yourself more easily that you've still got 'em. Take a piece of paper or cardboard from that pile of junk mail on the table. (What? Doesn't everyone have a pile of junk mail on the table?) Stiffer is better, but it shouldn't be too thick or you'll have trouble sliding it between the cup and whatever surface your uninvited guest is roosting on...which is exactly what you do immediately after enclosing him with the cup. Make sure that the edge of the cup is pressed against the paper all the way around, then, holding the cup with one hand and the paper tightly against it with the other, escort your guest out the window or door, into the toilet, or to another more homey location. (Hey, everything's a matter of perspective, right?) If you don't have an accomplice you might have to put your makeshift cage down for a minute to clear some obstacles, but I've never seen a bug strong enough to lift even a light plastic cup. You're safe, as long as you're not too clumsy...

Open Question to the World

2008-03-15T23:21:00.000-04:00

ט' אדר ב', תשס"ח

I know, it's been a very long time. And I'm hoping to get back into it soon...but in the meantime here's the most concise article I've read on Israel's right to defend herself.

(Hat tip: Treppenwitz)

ברוך דין אמת

2007-05-09T02:17:00.000-04:00

William Emanuel Hess
May 7, 1920 - May 8, 2007

One might think...

2007-02-19T23:25:00.000-05:00

ב' אדר, תשס"ז

One might think that most of the property owners in a city full of lawyers and politicians might be wary of ignoring a fairly well-known public ordinance, especially one whose neglect is so obvious as to scream "attention!" (as well as threaten bodily harm) to anyone trying to pass or enter said property:

§ 9-601. Removal from sidewalks by owner or occupant of abutting property.

It shall be the duty of every person, partnership, corporation, joint-stock company, or syndicate in charge or control of any building or lot of land within the fire limits of the District of Columbia, fronting or abutting on a paved sidewalk, whether as owner, tenant, occupant, lessee, or otherwise, within the first 8 hours of daylight after the ceasing to fall of any snow or sleet, to remove and clear away, or cause to be removed and cleared away, such snow or sleet from so much of said sidewalk as is in front of or abuts on said building or lot of land.*

One would, apparently, be wrong.

*District of Columbia Official Code

Memory

2007-02-18T21:13:00.000-05:00

ראש חודש אדר, תשס"ז

It amazes me sometimes the jumbled collection of memories that are permanent residents of my brain, and the stimuli that bring them to the window for a breath of air.

There is a certain type of bird, distinctive to me only by its call, that I heard daily when I was living on kibbutz seven (!) years ago. If I ever actually saw a creature making that noise, I certainly didn't register the details of its appearance, so I really only know the sound as an abstract entity. Its association with that particular period of my life, though, is apparently very firmly rooted in my mind. I say this because I have periodically heard it since, in various settings both similar to and diverse from the kibbutz (urban locations in Israel as well as both rural and urban locations here in the U.S.), and every single time -- most recently this afternoon -- I have been instantly though ever-so-fleetingly visited by the sensation that I am on kibbutz.

This phenomenon is not unfamiliar to me, although it's more frequently triggered by smell than sound, and might bring me back to any number of distinctive situations in my life. It's not déjà vu; in fact, it's the authentic experience of memory that déjà vu attempts to mimic. But I'm not sure whether memory in most people is so often such a stark, elemental encounter, rather than a conscious mental process. Moreover, in many such cases I have found that once the stimulus is associated repeatedly with other settings, its power to yank me back to its original context is considerably dulled. Not that bird, though. He's followed me clear around the world (a couple of times) with the aura of kibbutz tied to his foot, trailing behind him in the wind ready to tag me whenever he finds a female worthy of his call.

Flying Free

2007-01-13T23:44:00.000-05:00

כ"ד טבת, תשס"ז

I learned to ride a bike, as a kid, on Sunday mornings in empty parking lots. Growing up in Manhattan there was a shortage of open space where I could learn to balance, speed up, steer and brake without inevitable mishaps that could have put me in the path of oncoming traffic or put unwitting pedestrians in the path of...well, me.

So on many Sunday mornings, my parents would wake me up early, toss me in the back seat and my bike in the trunk, and head out to the no-man's land outside shopping malls in the Blue Law area of New Jersey. We'd spend at least a couple of hours with me struggling to juggle all the necessary skills simultaneously, and with my parents taking turns holding the seat and running alongside. And then later, when I finally got it, those huge lots were my chance to fly away. I could really move, in a way I couldn't do on my own steam by any other means. I remember sailing across a parking lot until our car was a speck in the distance and then coming back the long way, turning figure eights around every set of lampposts or row of spaces between myself and the impending "time to go, now."

As the years passed, I stopped having time to do most anything, so the bicycle (and I) stayed inside. When my grandfather bought me a new adult-sized bike for a birthday, it was exciting to pick it out and to upgrade to handbrakes and multiple gears, but my chances to use it were few and short. It and its predecessor moved to the garage of the townhouse my parents bought in NJ as a combination investment /weekend home, and when I came with them there I sometimes took a much-needed break from my homework in the form of a spin around the development -- up and back along the main drag and in and out of every side road and cul-de-sac along the way, adding every possibly detour among the look-alike residences and suburban landscaping just to extend my excursion a few minutes more. A few moments of exercise, that old familiar rush of wind through my hair...then the bike went back to the garage and I went back to my papers and books.

I spent the first two of the four months I lived on kibbutz in the middle of my college years sorely wishing there was some way for my bike to join me in Israel. On kibbutz, very nearly everyone gets around by bicycle, even several older people who have graduated back to an adult-sized tricycle (with a great basket between the rear wheels for groceries, laundry, small grandchildren, etc.) Watching everyone else hop on and disappear down a path, I felt heavily encumbered by my own two feet. After quite a while of monitoring the placement of possibly-abandoned bikes and asking around for anyone who might have a spare, I was ultimately rewarded with the loan of a circa 1970s Schwinn whose owner had long since graduated to more sophisticated two-wheeled transportation but had brought it along with her when she made aliya for no reason she could articulate. I was so ecstatic to have wheels that I was more than willing to overlook the fact that there were no handbrakes (only coaster brakes, which in my mind equated with kiddie-brakes), and only one speed (again, suggestive of my old outgrown relic).

I soon realized, however, that the price I had paid for feeling grown-up had been -- as it so often is -- an imposition of weight, a deprivation of precision, a loss of invincibility in some respects and a false sense of ability in others. With this borrowed piece of simplicity I could fly again. Late at night, when an afternoon nap had left me with overflowing energy, I made dashing circuits around the kibbutz's perimeter road, gazing through the fence at the fields, the mountains in the distance, and up at the moon. Coming back from work, I could carry garbage bags under my arm, laundry over my shoulder and a bowl of dinner in my other hand and still have no problems navigating turns in the narrow paths or stopping on a dime. In the late afternoons, eager for a change of scenery, I'd ride out the back gate, through the orchards and up to the above-ground reservoirs, circling the ridge around their circumference from which I could see for miles in every direction. When I encountered hills or bumps I had to push harder and brace myself; there was no easy fix on my handlebar to mask the need for effort, nor fat treaded tires to cushion a rocky encounter. I felt real -- closer to the ground I was riding on.

At the same time, though, I was living in a bubble. Kibbutzim are, in many ways, remnants of an idealistic world that barely exists, if at all, outside their fences. No one ever, ever locks a bike there. The rows of bike racks outside the common buildings are of the type that hold the front wheel upright without the need to put down the kickstand -- nothing more. Every house's front yard has the family collection of vehicles, and just outside the doors to the laundry and the dining hall there is an ever-rotating display of bicycles whose riders have jumped off just for a moment to pick something up inside. No one ever wears a helmet; I can picture the puzzled stares that the sight of one would likely produce. And in all honesty, there's little reason for one, as certainly no one ever rides alongside a car. I imagine there's very rarely a biking injury there more severe than a skinned knee.

After my return, on the few occasions when I was out at the NJ house, I tended to prefer the old, too-small child's bicycle rather than my (not-so)-new mountain bike for my brief excursions, just to relish the nostalgic sensation it gave me. When my parents sold the house, soon after, and I had to choose one of the two to give away, common sense prevailed and I said my good-byes.

Several years later, when I finally managed to bring my bicycle up to Ithaca and collected the appropriate gear, confidence and weather to ride around campus and town, I had a very distinct sense of something gained and something lost. Gained, because I had "gotten into" biking again, felt secure in my own ability to control my location at each instant of motion, and with the help of my gears could tackle all but the steepest hills. Lost, because the lightness was gone. There was a weight under me that I had to drag with me wherever I rode, a weight on my head that shielded me not only from injury but from the invigorating breeze rushing by, a weight on the frame of the bike and my keychain and my mind when I had to secure my property wherever I parked, and a weight on my conscience when I refused to obey the minute cycling rules on campus that would have had me getting on and off so often it would have been simpler just to walk. I had transportation -- fun, recreational, even exhilarating at times (think downhill) -- but not freedom.

The bicycle was damaged that year (not while I was on it, b"H), and I ended up leaving it behind in Ithaca for anyone dedicated and mechanical-minded enough to fix it. As for myself, I was determined to find something similar to that vintage Schwinn on which I could replicate my dreams. Not being quite patient enough to wait until the photo in my mind's eye showed up on Craigslist, I paid too much for an old Raleigh in not-so-good condition. It served me well while it lasted (except for the amusing morning when one of the pedals fell off on my way to work and got eaten by the street cleaner behind me), and I particularly liked the double insurance of its coaster brakes and front handbrake (especially as neither was as immediately responsive as I might have wished). I became more comfortable riding in traffic, and with the assistance of a great big double baske t, zipped my way to work grocery shopping and on other errands around town...but then one night the bike was stolen, basket and all.

So I've been watching the postings again. Part of me, the part that is feeling severely restrained and unexercised, is tempted to take the first good deal that comes along, so I can get moving again. The other part of me wants to hold out for my dream bike, the one that lets me fly with the wind. But what I've realized recently -- what prompted me to write all this out -- is that what I'm really waiting for goes beyond a bike model, beyond a reminiscent connection with certain past scenarios. There's a little part of me that's still hoping for the freedom associated with those situations, which I will likely never be able to replicate, at least not with any permanence. Because no matter how perfect the vehicle is, no matter how classic, how simple, how elementary...the life through which I will ride it is just a heck of a lot more complicated.

Brilliant!

2007-01-11T13:10:00.000-05:00

כ"א טבת, תשס"ז

I've been slowly making my way through the archives of Treppenwitz, which is a great read (and why start a good book from the middle??) and I came across a post calling attention to the original Park(ing) installation.

The concept is that a parking space is simply a small piece of urban real estate, available for (very) short-term rent at relatively low cost. The creators of this project decided that the usual assumption that these spaces are available to vehicles only is overrated. They fed the meter and created a 2-hour park -- complete with grass, tree and bench. Beyond pulling a creative prank, these artists were making a statement about how much of our public space is devoted to vehicles rather than people, and how much our physical environment affects what we do...as well as vice versa. Because people used this space, and enjoyed it.

The idea caught and spread, and a year later the same group led a Park(ing) Day, on which they "planted" five such temporary green spaces and other groups around San Francisco as well as elsewhere in the world joined in with many more. Their comment on the event:

In addition to calling attention to the need for broader discourse regarding public space in urban contexts, we sought to test public response to the PARKs in a variety of socioeconomic situations. We are pleased to report that the PARKs were generally met with a varying mix of surprise, approval, joy and incredulity. A few people thought perhaps we'd fallen out of our tree. Perhaps we have.

I don't think so. I think they're brilliant.

Living in Washington, DC

2007-01-02T01:25:00.000-05:00

י"ב טבת, תשס"ז

Many of you who actually come here from time to time (are there any of you left?) do so in an attempt to find out what I'm up to -- how my life is, what I'm doing these days, etc. If that's been your goal, I haven't been too helpful. For some reason it's been hard for me to get into the "swing" of writing on a regular basis again. There was a short while when I kept having ideas for amusing current posts, but that was when my brain was backlogged with Israel material I wanted to record and none of them were worthwhile enough to withstand a delay of a couple of months.

I do, however, have a somewhat generic list of likes and dislikes of this new city of residence of mine which I'll share in an attempt to get a little closer to the right subject matter. Mind, these are not about the more intimate aspects of my experience here, nor are they specific to the Jewish community (although some of them do relate to my personal needs as a shabbat- & kashrut-observant individual). Many of them relate to -- surprise, surprise! -- transportation. They are not comprehensive and I may add new points as the come to mind. But without further ado:

Things I like about DC

There are trees -- and particularly grass -- in locations other than parks. That is, unless you identify any area within a city which has grass and trees as a park. Despite being from Manhattan, I choose not to, because I prefer to think that there is indeed space within an ordinary metropolitan setting for green things that grow, and I point to them here as proof. (There's nothing like circular reasoning, huh?)
I like the general feel of the city. This is not something you're going to get a photo of, and it's not even something I can fully explain, but I think it's similar to the result of a successful recipe. There's a blend of "Northern" and "Southern" here that results in just the right speed. People are relaxed and laid back, but not too much so (which might not be saying much, coming from a New Yorker, but that's who's running this blog). There's a mix of urban and suburban characteristics (varying by neighborhood, of course, but all within the city) that makes neither density nor sprawl overwhelming.
All entrances to the Metro (what the subway here is called) have escalators. Most or all have elevators as well, but the point is that the mode is not reserved for the convenience of only those who can walk up & down a gazillion stairs, nor are the possible routes limited for those who can't. Of course, in addition to the relative newness for the system, its sheer depth below ground may have something to do with the mechanized egress:

While we're on the subject of the Metro, the electronic boards that give advanced traveler info are great. These list the next several trains that are on their way, identified by their line color and final stop, and specify how many minutes until they are due to arrive. Granted, these "minutes" are sometimes counted by a slightly, er, flexible number of seconds...but even so, I find it's helpful in lowering stress levels just to have an estimate.
Along the same lines, nearly all the signal lights at crosswalks have countdown timers to let pedestrians know exactly how long they have to get across the street before the light changes. In addition to this primary purpose, which obviously helps prevent people being stranded in the middle of a wide intersection against the light, it also informs traffic waiting to travel in the perpendicular direction when they will have the right-of-way. This allows often-necessary downtime for drivers and cyclists to read directions, take a drink, find something in a bag, etc. without being nervous that they will be slow to respond to the change to green. I've also found, as a pedestrian, that encountering a timer near the end of its cycle in the direction perpendicular to that I am traveling will convince me to wait for my own walk signal, soon to come, rather than crossing against the light.
Overall, there is relatively little incline on the streets here, and drivers seem fairly aware of the potential presence of cyclists. That may be a fair comparison only to New York...but regardless, I've been enjoying biking as a means of transportation (that is, until my bike was stolen, but that's a whole 'nother issue...)

Things I Don't Like About DC

There seems to be a particularly high rate -- and if not, at least a particularly high visibility -- of homelessness here. Granted, my only strong point of comparison is New York, but it seems to me (partially based on the sharp decline of homelessness there in the 90s) that there should be some way for the city's government to give these people the assistance they need. Certainly, non-profit organizations with this specific goal abound, and I donate to select ones when I can, but I do believe that when the covered entryway to the local library becomes a fully-booked night dormitory...something has gone horribly wrong with the public welfare system.
The sparsity of locations to buy packaged retail food in this city is remarkable. Supermarkets are few and far between, and the very few small grocery stores do not come close to filling the gap. Fresh produce is available with varying consistency, quality and variety at only some of these outlets, or at farmers' markets that only take place at certain places on certain days in certain seasons. This is inconvenient for general shopping needs, but nearly as annoying is the resultant void if I ever neglect to make lunch to bring to work. Wherever I worked in NY, if I didn't have time to put anything together or forgot to grab something from home, I would simply run downstairs to the little grocery on the corner, or the supermarket down the block, or even the fruit stand across the street, and get something to tide me over. It was never a problem. Here, in that situation, about the only place within reach that sells anything resembling real food that isn't prepared and very-not-kosher is CVS pharmacy!
I like that the weather here in the winter is a bit warmer and milder (although honestly, I'm not really sure whether it's location or just the way things are this year)...but the summer is awful. I moved here in August and so only had to endure about a month of super-duper-horrendous humidity, but it was enough to make me rather dread the coming of June.
It's against the rules to eat or drink in the Metro. What's up with that? I understand that they're trying to keep the place clean, and to their credit, it is. But frankly, I'm not sure so much of the dirt in the NYC subway is food-related, and even if it is...why not just make littering illegal? They don't seem to have much difficulty enforcing the no food/drink (although I can't imagine why), so why do they think the same obedience wouldn't hold for something so much more reasonable? Meanwhile, I have to surreptitiously sneak bites of a granola bar from my bag...
The streets here seem designed expressly to taunt people who are, uh, directionally challenged. (I don't know anyone like that, do you?) I mean, the quadrant system can be learned, and it makes some degree of sense. Even the diagonal state-named avenues randomly criss-crossing the lettered and numbered streets can be gotten used to. But the absolute, ultimate affront to sanity and reason are the two-way streets that become one-way, the one-way streets that suddenly become one-way in the other direction, and the streets that simply cease to exist and then begin again several blocks later. Toss in a few "no left turns" and it's enough to drive a person mad! (And remember, I discovered most of this while on a bicycle, where every left turn is already a challenge and every extra block is on my own steam...)

What the eye doesn't see...

2006-12-18T02:22:00.000-05:00

כ"ז כסלו, תשס"ז

I am a packrat. I keep things that I think might be useful (and the range of things I find uses for years down the line is not to be believed). I also keep things that I have a sentimental attachment to, which can include absolutely anything to which a particular memory or general period-of-life association is attached. This tendency, not surprisingly, results in a rather unwieldy collection of possessions.

When I moved here, collecting various belongings from storage in Ithaca, storage in my parents apartment, suitcases brought back from Israel, and then some, I finally reached the point of being infuriated with myself for hanging onto so much stuff, and made a mental resolution to throw out a whole lot of it. Having just returned from living for a year with relatively few things within immediate reach, and having schlepped the amount that I did up the stairs outside my new building's service entrance (don't get me started; that's a whole 'nother rant), I looked around my tiny studio and envisioned tossing load after load of junk. Yes, it would take a bit of sorting time, but I would feel so liberated! And besides, if I didn't throw out a significant portion of the stuff, where in the world would I put it??

The problem with these grand declarations was the same as my general problem with settling in -- I started work almost immediately and had very little time thereafter to unpack, acquire furniture, etc. I also had very little time to sort. So happened what always happens when I don't act on a definitive decision right away...the force behind it faltered and mostly dissipated. Now that I am about 97% of the way to being fully moved in, unpacked, and furnished (the apt, that is, not me), I am going through the contents of the most random of the "random stuff" boxes and trying to recall the certainty I had back then of being truly ready to part with most of these things. I've not been extremely successful.

However...I came across a bag of old floppy disks from the first few years of college. I had saved them because of what was on them, I'm sure. I only remember the nature of one or two probable categories of that material, though. I'm sure if I explored the contents of each disk, I could spend several hours engrossed in old email correspondence and grimacing over much-despised school projects. There's one obstacle to such potential reminiscing though -- who has a floppy drive anymore??

I wavered for a few minutes. Maybe I'll find a computer at work on which I could view the files. Maybe...hmmm. And then I realized that I was about to miss a golden opportunity of triumphing over my sentimental side. If I can't see what's on them, I don't get sucked into the memories, the attachment, the wishy-washiness. They're square pieces of plastic that are useless to me because I can't see what's on them. And they're in the trash!

Chalk one up for the expiration factor of technology...

Marty, z"l

2006-12-10T00:00:00.000-05:00

י"ט כסלו, תשס"ז

This past Friday was the end of the shloshim for a special man.

Marty, z"l was a former supervisor of mine who became, over the time I worked for him and thereafter, a friend. Our relationship was one of mutual admiration and a common passion. I can state the former without any particular vanity, as he shared his regard openly. I'm very sorry and slightly ashamed that I may not have made my own similar esteem as explicitly known. As for the latter, anyone who knew him or who knows me would not be at all surprised that Israel was its object.

Marty was a sensitive, candid person, wholly devoted to his priorities. It was once said to me about him that "he wears his heart on his sleeve." This sometimes made working with him intense, even difficult, but it was a quality I appreciated greatly. He didn't play games; you always knew where you stood with him. He didn't pretend to like people, but neither would he withhold respect. He was also as refreshingly straightforward about his own imperfections as about his frustration with others. We once had an argument, in the course of a very busy period, and harsh words were said on both sides. Later that evening, from home, I left a message on Marty's voice mail explaining myself calmly and apologizing for any offense. When I got to work the next morning, there was a handwritten note tucked under my keyboard acknowledging my message, apologizing for his own behavior as well, explaining the emotional stresses that had brought it about, and expressing the hope that we could continue to work well together as we had previously. This from a boss, who could have simply dismissed the incident or chosen to take advantage of his superior position to my detriment. I still have that note.

Marty often seemed beaten down by his work, by his responsibilities, but he embraced them nonetheless and lived with his feet on the ground, tackling each small obstacle in turn. I know that in addition to his regular job, to which he dedicated long hours and huge amounts of energy -- mental, emotional and otherwise -- he ran a private accounting business from his home in the evenings. I always wondered when (or if) he managed to sleep, and how he kept moving forward, accomplishing the amount he did. I must admit that I took advantage of his expertise a couple of times, at least, to ask for direction on personal tax-related issues, and instead of the lecture I probably deserved (especially during tax season!) I got an immediate reply. It may have been as simple as "I don't know, but here's who to ask," but I was never disregarded. In fact, the last time I spoke to Marty was over the phone for just such a question.

Marty was not observant, in that he did not keep the laws of shabbat, kashrut, or many other ritual mitzvot. He was, however, religious. He believed in G-d, he prayed on a regular basis, and he was committed to his synagogue and its community. He was open about his personal theological struggles, not afraid to admit when he was groping for answers. He was respectful and often curious about my own beliefs and observance, sometimes approaching me as a source of information for all things Jewish (with confidence I found flattering, albeit somewhat misplaced). We had conversations about our ideal communities and about things we aspired to learn, which, considering our different perspectives of age and outlook, was remarkable. The most consistent topic of our personal conversations, though, was Israel.

Marty was in love with Israel. I say this with no melodrama, as I am afflicted with the same fervor. His zeal sometimes even surpassed mine, though, in his natural tendency to see matters in black and white. He was an idealist and a cynic, all at once -- or rather, an idealist unsuccessfully cloaked in a cynical attitude. Although he often could be heard grumbling or expressing his own doubts, when he cared deeply about something Marty devised projects of improvement, against which he would accept no refusals or detractors. At work he took initiative to overhaul our entire operational procedure, plowing past obstacles and objections, enduring delays and setbacks, with a vision of drastically improved efficiency. Outside the office, he invested much energy in the attempt to infect his family, friends and community with even a taste of the love he felt for Israel. (Actually, he took this approach in the office as well, but he was generally preaching to the choir!) He argued, presented anecdotes, arranged for speakers to corroborate his enthusiasm, and persuaded people to accompany him for a visit to that little magical place our nation calls home. Not content to know Israeli circumstance and culture from an impersonal tourist's perspective, Marty befriended two teenagers who had been injured in a terrorist bus bombing. He helped arrange their trip to the U.S. to vacation and to share their experience, perspectives and continuing dedication to their country with various audiences. He and his wife hosted them in their home while they were here, and he kept in close touch with them after they returned, following their medical progress, offering advice and assistance where he could, visiting them on his trips to Israel and making no secret of his admiration for their resilience.

Last year, Marty called me up when he was in Jerusalem and took me out to dinner with his wife, brother and sister-in-law. I appreciated the gesture, the meal and the company, but most of all I was glad to finally see in its original incarnation that glow, the remnants of which on his face were always noticeable to his colleagues on his every return from the Holy Land.

Marty: husband, father, grandfather, brother, colleague, boss, friend. Jew, Zionist, honest and caring individual. He is already much missed, I am certain, and will continue to be. May his memory be a blessing to all who knew him.

Happy Half-Birthday to Me

2006-11-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

כ"ו חשון תשס"ז

May the next half-year be happier and more fulfilling than the last half.

Shabbat shalom...

Rimonim

2006-11-05T20:56:00.000-05:00

ט"ו חשון, תשס"ז

On Friday, I bought myself a shabbat treat: a rimon. I had seen them here every once in a while, in the fancier supermarkets, for what I consider to be astronomical prices, and moved along. I didn't even have one on Rosh Hashana. But I finally gave in this weekend. As with many things these days, how much I like the fruit intrinsically comes second to the associations I have with eating it.

Before last year, I thought eating a rimon wasn't worth the annoyance. Why would anyone want to bother with a fruit that had to be eaten one drop of juice at a time? Then I went to Israel and discovered that people don't spit out the seeds one by one...they eat them. Pomegranate kernels are tossed into salads, served alone in bowls as a complement to other desserts, and when a whole one is pulled open, some people will break off a piece of the spongy yellow padding, peel any skin away from the clinging red gems, and take a mouthful right from the source.

Having had this revelation, I resolved -- and quickly succeeded -- to get used to chewing and swallowing what I had previously regarded as inedible, and got right down to the business of enjoying rimonim. They're colorful, tart and sweet, and (to me, at least) they are the most exotic of that collection of produce known as the sheva minim -- the seven agricultural species specifically identified in the Torah text with the Land of Israel. (D'varim 8:8)

I have always found rimon trees to be exciting. I'm no botanist -- there are only a few plants I can identify by the shape of their leaves or the color of their stems or trunks. Fruit trees in general are exciting, therefore, because seeing one in season automatically informs me. But spotting a rimon hanging off a branch is a different grade of excitement altogether, because it tells me I'm in Israel. Yes, I know they are grown elsewhere. In fact, the one I ate yesterday had "USA" on its label -- but I've never seen a pomegranate tree anywhere else but Israel, and furthermore I'm willing to bet they grow here only in commercial groves, not along the street in people's yards.

So I find rimonim to be exciting. All through last fall and much of the winter, I enjoyed them, and then missed them when they disappeared from the shuk and our local produce stores. Not being acquainted with their seasonal schedule, by late spring I assumed, regretfully, that I'd see no more (of the Israeli kind, at least) until my next trip to eretz hakodesh. But at the end of June, maybe a week before my departure, I was privileged with this:

Shavuot

2006-11-05T00:53:00.000-05:00

י"ד חשון, תשס"ז

My group from Nishmat spent the night of Shavuot, when it is a custom to stay up all night learning Torah, at the home of one of our rabbanim in the neighborhood of Nachlaot. There were shiurim straight through from right after dinner until an hour or so before dawn, with hot drinks, luscious cheesecake, and a few mattresses laid out on a landing and in one bedroom upstairs for whoever needed a power nap (or who gave up altogether). After the last shiur, those of us who were able helped clean up a bit, and then set out towards the kotel for shacharit. It so happened that I left the house on my own. Walking through the alleys of Nachlaot it was quiet, and the night air fresh. I don't mind walking by myself, generally, but I think the thought crossed my mind that it was an awfully long way to go alone in the middle of the night, and I shouldn't have let the others leave without me.

It was a silly thought. As I came onto Rechov Yafo (Jaffa Street) a saw a few other people. Then a few more. Then many more. By the time I'd gone several blocks there were streams, and before I'd passed the Iriya (City Hall) it was a crowd. Men, women, children, all dressed for the chag and all heading in the same direction for the same purpose. A couple of times I passed women from my program who had come from the same place I had, but I felt no need to latch on. I was a single unit, but only one component of a breathtaking entity.

We were walking the same route as we had on Yom Yerushalayim. It was on the path outside the walls, near where I took that last picture barely a week before, that I first noticed I was approximately keeping pace with a particular girl. She was bundled in a winter jacket, and had a distinctive body language that made me notice her. She seemed simultaneously focused, excited, independent -- but also vulnerable. After a bit, she too noticed that we were walking "together," as it were, and we exchanged that quick smile of strangers recognizing a commonality -- but her smile was warm, appreciative. (I hope mine was too!)

We continued in silence, despite having acknowledged a link. Sometimes one of us passed ahead for a few moments, or other people moved between us, but we kept ending up aligned in parallel paths, and continued sharing anticipatory glances. We entered the Old City through Sha'ar Yafo (Jaffa Gate), and, as on Yom Yerushalayim, people were splitting about equally between the route through the Arab shuk and the one that circumvents it -- a much more popular course towards the kotel on any ordinary day. I decided I might as well take my chance when I had it, and went the more direct way. It being still significantly before dawn, the shuk as a place of business was deserted, with all wares behind locked metal doors and proprietors presumably asleep in their beds. As a thoroughfare, however, it was far from deserted. The crowds from the wide street and walkways had funneled into this enclosed alley, and though we were still walking along at a fairly brisk pace, periodically there was a traffic jam (or, to use the Israeli term, a p'kak -- a plug/stopper, like in a bottle). My traveling companion and I, still periodically becoming seperated from one another but now literally bumping up against each other when we met, finally made verbal introductions. Just our names and where in the world we were from -- nothing further. As we reached the end of the shuk she tried to link arms with me, but I shook my head, realizing how much harder it would be to navigate the throng that way. We moved into the tunnel just off the kotel plaza, at this point somewhat less than capable of directing our own bodies. (New Yorkers, picture the 6 line at rush hour!) It was dark and pungent and loud, but I leaned over to this comrade of mine to share an editorial note of sorts: "Here, the light at the end of the tunnel is the holiest place on Earth."

We made it through, of course, but were separated. That was the last time we communicated in any way, although I saw her for a brief moment later on as I moved closer to the wall than I had been initially. My encounter with her was memorable for its setting and its negligibility -- a fraction of a relationship based on a greater extent of mutual identification among thousands of people with whom we also strongly identified, a rudimentary bond based on visibly shared emotions.

My davening wasn't particularly noteworthy, since I was pretty much asleep on my feet, but hopefully Hashem heard my overflowing internal thanks for bringing me to that day, that place, that time, as part of His holy nation.

A Different View

2006-10-26T22:23:00.000-04:00

ה' חשון, תשס"ז

In the midst of all the turmoil I was miserably watching from afar shortly after I left Israel, I was trying hard to hang on to the sights, sounds, feelings and experiences of my own recent presence there. So I started a few posts I didn't get the chance to write before I left. Since then, I've been caught up in so much upheaval and transition of my own that the mere thought of blogging got pushed to the side. But in the last few weeks, I've been feeling more and more of a desire for this outlet again. There's no way I could even try to "catch up" on all the things I would have posted if I had been blogging regularly over the last several months, but those few unfinished posts are sitting in my draft box and I think they're still worthwhile, if only for the pictures they contain. Certainly the content itself won't be nearly as detailed or as vivid as it would have been if I'd been writing in real-time, but nevertheless I'm going to try to give expression to some of the things that inspired me then.

First, Yom Yerushalayim (and I get to use the virtual Hebrew keyboard I found to write it the real way, too! יום ירושלים ):
Ordinarily, and unlike most Jewish or Israeli holidays, Yom Yerushalayim is celebrated mostly on the day of. From what I understand there are some concerts the night before, but the major festivities happen that afternoon and evening. I don't understand why this is so, but so I was told. This past year, however, since the date to be celebrated fell out on a Friday, all the events were scheduled for Thursday. I suppose that it's no more odd to start early than to end late...

Before the official events of the day, my program had a tour of select parts of the Muslim quarter of the Old City with Natanel, who's a great guide and the husband of one of the women who learns with us. The places he took us were ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. We visited a yeshiva that's literally right around the corner from the kotel...but on the "wrong" side of the wall. We climbed stairs to a small courtyard of apartments where students of the yeshiva (which used to include himself and one of our teachers at Nishmat) live side-by-side with Arab families, and then climbed higher to the roof (was it that building or one nearby??) where we could have the closest view most (any?) of us had ever had to the Dome of the Rock, built on our own har habayit:

This photo was taken with no zoom at all...although come to think of it, I don't know if my camera on the basic setting makes images appear farther away than they are. It certainly felt a lot closer than it looks here! This was taken with zoom:

Natanel told us a story of a cohen who had moved to that house despite extraordinarily difficult conditions in the early days of the resettlement of Israel, because of his strength of faith that the mashiach would come in his lifetime and he had to be one of the first to reach the rebuilt beit hamikdash in order to claim an honored position of priestly service.

When we came downstairs again, we were introduced to an Arab shopkeeper who, when Natanel first moved in, had presented himself as a free resource for any grocery items the latter might suddenly find himself in need of on shabbat. He welcomed us in a similar neighborly spirit as we passed by.

Standing at an intersection of two bustling streets, we were told about an Arab family who had been entrusted with the care of a small shteebel when the Jews fled the Old City in 1948. When Israeli soldiers finally broke through in 1967, a small boy ran out with the keys that his grandfather had guarded. The soldiers took them and quickly sent the child back inside for his own safety, but on opening the room they found it and the Torah inside untouched, as it had been left.

While Natanel told us this story (which is significantly abbreviated and I still may have remembered some detail incorrectly -- that's what comes of writing a journal entry three months after the event!) and pointed to the locations being described, some of my attention was focused on the store display directly behind him. I didn't know quite what to make of it:

If you look carefully, you'll see a rather diverse array of relevant political and nationalistic orientations represented side-by-side in this collection of T-shirts. There are several neutral Jerusalem logos, including the standard Hard Rock cafe emblem and one for the "Holy Rock Cafe" (is the take-off only on the shirt, or is there really such a place? Anyone know? I just answered my own question.) There are shirts expressing an open hope for peace, and one that laughs incredulously at the very idea. There are shirts demanding freedom for Palestine and one depicting Arafat (although I admit I don't know what it says in Arabic above his head), right alongside an image of a jetfighter with the proclamation "America don't worry, Israel is behind you!" Of course, next to this vote of confidence there's also the antithesis, an IDF Intelligence insignia above the declaration, "My job is so secret I don't even know what I'm doing." There's the mathematical and parallel Biblical equation in Hebrew for light -- Vayehi Ohr -- and the tongue-in-cheek "I got stoned in Gaza." What I'd like to know is, what motivates such a display, particularly in such a location? Is it humor? Open-mindedness? Business sense and a recognition of the tourist trade, plain and simple? I just found the whole thing rather intriguing (which, I suppose, could account for my lack of clarity on the detail of the story I was being told at the time...)

When we first entered the quarter, Natanel had stopped for a moment to speak with the soldiers standing at the barricade by the turnoff leading to har habayit. He came back to us apologetic that we weren't allowed further down that road; not that we would have gone onto the actual site (halacha forbids it except under certain circumstances), but he wanted to take us closer. He expressed sorrow that there are external forces forcing our separation with this holiest of sites, but I pointed out that at least it is our soldiers who have the authority to say, "No, this area is off limits to Jews."

So instead we went around the back way. Don't worry, I don't mean that quite how it sounds! We convinced the janitors at an Arab elementary school to allow us onto the grounds of the empty school. Thinking back on it, it's quite startling that the entrance to this institution, located as it was on one of the usual narrow streets, opened onto such a huge courtyard, with individual classroom buildings. One of the four walls of the courtyard had "windows" -- openings with bars over them -- that looked directly on an amazing sight:

Yes, that is har habayit. Yes, we were close enough to see the birds flying overhead. And I believe that is a grove of olive trees.

Coming back , we walked through the Arab shuk, a place where in recent years many Jews (myself included) don't dare set foot alone, or even in a small group most of the time. Possibly this nervous behavior is unwarranted...but generally it just feels like the wrong place to be. That day we were a significant number with an armed guard, however (almost all tour guides in Israel are armed), and it was the middle of the afternoon on Yom Yerushalayim, when the market was overflowing with Arab shoppers, tourists, and also many Jews. We battled our way through the crowd, splitting up along the way as some of us chose to shop, catch up with other friends, or more hurriedly make her way to the afternoon's festivities.

The "rikudegalim" ("flag dance" turned into one word) had started around midday, with males congregating in one part of the city and females in another and then marching/dancing towards one another to meet in the center, at Kikar Tzion (Zion Square) -- the most well-known commercial/tourism/hangout spot in the city. By the time I got there, the dances were in full swing, but all of Rechov Yaffo (Jaffa Street) was packed as well, further than the eye could see, with more celebrants joining the throng:

I snagged a seat on the high mosaic base of a streetlamp and just sat, watching the swirling crowd. I didn't feel like dancing -- my feet were way too tired -- but I didn't need to in order to appreciate the general mood. I just enjoyed watching, seeing all those excited Jews -- and all those flags -- in one place. When I recovered my ability to stand without too much discomfort, I joined the slow march making its way back from whence I had come -- the Old City. I took a picture along my way that is only one of the endless collection of examples, in that antique/modern land, of the contrast between old and new:

Note the archaeological remains under one side of the bridge, and the traffic under the other...

Final List

2006-06-29T02:27:00.000-04:00

ג׳ תמוז, תשס״ו

A couple of weeks ago when I bought my plane ticket back to the U.S., I sent an email to a bunch of friends letting them know the date of my departure/return (depending on their geographical perspective). In this email I expressed apprehension at all the things I'll miss here in Israel, which I can't even begin to count. As an attempt to counteract that feeling, I started a list of things that I'm looking forward to having back in the U.S., and I invited people to suggest additions to that list. Since I'm leaving town tomorrow morning, the "looking forward" list more or less has to be final now. So, here 'tis. The first four items were mine originally; the rest were suggested by friends, or inspired by their responses or by recent experiences:

1) carpet
2) a dryer
3) Netflix
4) Sundays (maybe -- I have mixed feelings about this one. I think my ideal would be to have Friday afternoons and Sunday mornings off, instead of all day Sunday.)
5) Express lines at supermarkets...that actually take less time than the regular lines. And baskets, not just shopping carts. (If I'm walking back, I don't like to use a cart, because I end up buying more than I can carry.)
6) twin-size beds (that is, beds for single people that are significantly wider than the people themselves. Yes, I know I could get a double bed, but I don't need that much room, and don't necessarily want to spend the money or the space for it.) Oh, and a real mattress, not a piece of foam rubber.
7) Free long-distance landline calling, and/or unlimited weekend cell phone minutes (but not looking forward to spending regular minutes on incoming calls!)
8) Predictable hours at banks and particularly post offices! (This one hit home this afternoon at 4:30pm when I discovered that my local post-office branch, which is open until 5pm Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, closes at 2pm on Wednesdays. Yes, that's right, today was Wednesday. And I had arrived with a box so heavy I had to pay a cab to take me a block down the street. And the branch in Bayit ve'Gan -- where I had to go anyway to drop some things off for tzedaka -- which every other day closes around lunchtime and re-opens in the late afternoon, closes at 1pm on Wednesday and stays closed. (Thank you, Ari, for rescuing me!!))

OK. Past time to finish the last tidbits of packing. I'm hoping to have time to go to the kotel for shacharit.

And I wish this darn mosquito would leave me alone!!!

On Second Thought

2006-06-25T02:54:00.000-04:00

כ״ח סיון, תשס״ו

...I'll do all that writing after I'm packed, finished, have loose ends tied up and errands run. Probably beginning on the plane, or after I recover from landing. Stay tuned.

Behind the times...

2006-06-22T00:32:00.000-04:00

כ״ו סיון, תשס״ו

So, as you may have noticed, I haven't been writing much. I've meant to. For a while I felt like a blank slate, only able to absorb the things I was learning. It took too much energy to think of things to say, besides.

I think, also, that because I was doing things that were personally, emotionally fulfilling, I didn't need the outlet of this blog as much as I have over the previous year and a half I was writing it. As wonderful as the internet is for keeping in touch and sharing anything amongst a wide spread of people...talking to humans in person is still better, more satisfying, more rewarding. And this year I have had more of a social array in close proximity than I have had for a very long time.

In addition, some of the issues I have had to muse about in recent months have been of a more private and/or sensitive nature than previously, so I wasn't comfortable with posting them publicly. Not that so many people read this, but it's open, available and not anonymous, and I'm not looking to cause myself problems.

In any case, though, I've been trying to share highlights of the notable events of the yearly cycle, and I'm a bit behind. Furthermore, as my time here has been winding down, I've found myself mentally coming up with posts, the way I used to...I just still haven't pinned myself down to write them. So, without (too much) further ado...I'm going to try to catch up.

...while I pack, and do about a trillion last-minute errands. Set your sights low. ;-)

Lag Ba'Omer

2006-05-29T04:00:00.000-04:00

ב׳ סיון, תשס״ו -- מ״ו לעומר

Over the weeks leading up to Lag Ba'Omer (don't have the energy to try to explain the significance of this date and its related customs...google it if you're curious), we watched the children of the religious neighborhood of Bayit Ve'Gan (where Nishmat is located) drag wooden pallets, old doors, broken closets, discarded shelves, bed frames, and every other manner of scrap wood down the street to the grassy ridge across from the entrance to our beit midrash. They built several large teepee-shaped pyres, only to have them blown down on a particularly windy night a few days before the significant date. Undeterred, they gathered the materials and then some more and consolidated:

And now, for some proportion:

By the next morning, all that was left was a smudge of ashes. They must have had lots of fun roasting marshmallows, but I didn't get to see it. I was busy hiking in the moonlight...

Yom Ha'atzma'ut (in retrospect)

2006-05-29T03:00:00.000-04:00

ב׳ סיון, תשס״ו -- מ״ו לעומר

So I know I haven't been on in a while, for which I apologize. Maybe (probably) it's laziness, but I just haven't had the desire to gather thoughts, words, or even pictures for publication. I did have some photos from the Yom Ha'Atzma'ut celebration that followed my last post, but they aren't so spectacular although the event I attended was quite nice. At night I was in Efrat (more or less a suburb of Yerushalayim, but definitely a small city in its own right), and there was a strong feeling of local pride mixed with the national excitement. The presentation included speeches by R' Shlomo Riskin, the founder & chief rabbi of Efrat, as well as the head of the regional council and I think the mayor; a troop of 20-30 small children who heralded the day by blowing shofar in unison; several youth choirs & bands; a torch-lighting ceremony honoring leaders of various community services; a festive ma'ariv service with lots of singing & dancing; and fireworks right above our heads that rivaled New York's on the Fourth of July.

The next day I was in an unexplicably anti-social mood, causing me to turn down invitations to a couple of BBQs (thanks, Shana & Ari! Really!) and sit on my bed crocheting most of the day...but surprisingly, I was OK with that. Even afterwards I'm able to accept that it was a nice, relaxing day, what I needed at the time, even if it wasn't a memorable Yom Ha'atzma'ut Experience. I feel this bears mentioning because all year, on every special occasion, I've felt an urgency to get the most value for my time, so to speak. I feel that I have this one chance at each chag, so I need to spend it in the most paradigmatic Israeli way possible. But it's good that I can sometimes accept my own immediate inclinations as well, not hold myself hostage to my grand ambitions, and not feel guilty about it, either. For me, that's an achievement.

Yom Hazikaron in Yerushalayim

2006-05-02T00:07:00.000-04:00

ד׳ אייר, תשס״ו

I went to the ceremony tonight at the kotel. It was very Israeli -- simple, straightforward, with a minimum of formality. As usual, most of my pictures came out blurry, but these are the important images:

In the end...

2006-03-17T02:49:00.000-05:00

י״ז אדר, תשס״ו

Not that anyone here provided any suggestions, but I managed to come up with a reasonably clever Purim costume (if I do say so myself). I was the soothsayer from Julius Caesar, sort of. I wore a bedsheet toga, a wreath of fake leaves & flowers on my head, and carried a sign that said, "Beware the Ides of Adar."

Huh?

Well, I was looking at the calendar a couple of nights earlier, and realized that the 15th of March fell this year on the 15th of Adar, just when I happen to be living in Jerusalem where Purim is celebrated on the 15th rather than the 14th. And so, with a little assistance from Aviel in the research of ancient Roman garb, I entered the spirit of "v'nahafoch hu" [Literally, "and he/it was changed/switched/flipped; the concept that on Purim, both in the original story and hence at this time every year, things are turned on their heads. Irony and poetic justice reign.]

The funniest costume idea I've heard of recently, though, is from a commenter to the Renegade Rebbetzin: "One year I made a crown, and had a picture of a turkey in one hand (I couldn't find a rubber/toy turkey) with a Koosh ball in the other: ha-molech mei-Hodu v'ad Kush..."

Hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!! I wish I'd read that before Purim!

Request for Ideas

2006-03-12T00:18:00.000-05:00

י״ב אדר, תשס״ו

OK, so Purim is in a very few days, and for the first time in many years I am in a place where everyone I'm with will be dressing up, and I will be expected to do the same...and I don't have a clue what to be. Ideas, preferably clever and easily implementable ones, would be extremely welcome!

Helpful, Aren't They?

2006-03-10T13:02:00.000-05:00

י׳ אדר, תשס״ו

Yesterday I was the recipient of a couple of comments that were bizarre enough on their own, but together had me a bit bewildered.

I was in the supermarket on the way home to pick up a couple of things that I needed. Once inside I realized it was foolish of me to have had the cab drop me by the big store just to get onions and chumus, when the smaller store was still open and closer to my apartment. Especially since it generally takes about 15 minutes to get through checkout at the big stores. Between the absence of baggers in this country and huge amount of food people seem to always be buying (I'm serious -- it's uncanny, and it's not only on Thursday nights!), there is no such thing as a short line, even if there's only two people ahead of you.

Anyway, I looked for an express line, but since there didn't seem to be one, I hedged my bets on one that had more people who each had somewhat fewer items, and settled down to wait. A passing store employee, seeing me standing there with my onions and chumus, said, "This isn't an express line."

Prepared to be pleasantly surprised, I asked, "Is there an express line?"

"No." And she continued on her way.

The guy ahead of me seemed as baffled as I was, looked around, and moved to another line that must have seemed to him likely to move faster. I stayed where I was.

Later on in the evening, I attended a recreational event organized for young-ish (25-42) religious singles and marrieds (but mostly singles), both English- and Hebrew-speakers. The group rented out a bowling alley for a couple of hours for open play on the lanes and on the pool tables at the back, and served some refreshments. Having had an urge to go bowling only a few weeks back, I decided I was going to go this time, even if no one would come with me (which no one did).

I had fun. We were assigned to lanes when we signed in & paid, and I was with three Israeli guys...all of whom I beat in the first game. The second game, I was with the same three plus one woman who joined us...and I beat them all again. I must admit I did play fairly well, according to my own standard, but I had to keep reminding myself that I grew up with the game, taking tips from my parents and from my bowling-league grandfather, whereas these Israelis had played 0-3 times each.

In any case, I also had a nice time chatting with them, even though we were just making small-talk. They were nice enough, it forced me to speak in Hebrew (which I love, but don't do enough), and I supposed there was always the option of one of them deciding I was worth getting to know...

The lanes shut down on our games at exactly 11pm, after which we hung around for a bit watching the end of some pool games. At the point when I decided it would be awkward to stay any longer, I went up to two of the men I had bowled with (who were from the same area and had come together) and said it had been nice to meet them, etc, etc. They responded in kind, and then one said (and I translate/paraphrase here), "I think you should find a chatan and stay here in Israel."

Somewhat taken aback, I hesitated a moment, then put on a quizzical face and replied, "Er...thanks for the the advice." After a pause, I added, "Do you have any suggestions?"

If he was trying to flirt, I figure I gave him the perfect opening to ask me out. But apparently he either wasn't trying to flirt, or he was too shy to follow up on it, because his response was to glance at his buddy and say, "No...all our friends are married."

Now, how exactly is a woman supposed to take that, from a single guy who presumably was attending a social event to meet women??

And furthermore, what is it about these Israelis who seem to want very much to be helpful, but can't quite manage it?!

Shabbat shalom, all...

Eilat

2006-03-08T01:45:00.000-05:00

ח׳ אדר, תשס״ו

My trip to Eilat, a little over a week ago, was a very welcome change of pace & change of scenery. Even when you love where you are and what you're doing, it's good to have some variety, and even with the winter as mild as it's been, an end-of-winter excursion to the warm and sunny mountains, desert & beaches of Eilat was glorious. We hiked for about six hours in Nachal Gishron, a rift between mountain ranges that runs through Egypt, Israel & Jordan. The views were awesome -- and I mean that in the original sense of the word. They inspired awe. To think that Hashem created these vast, stunning landscapes, these brilliant colors...and to think that this land is ours! The next day we relaxed a bit on a rocky beach, dipping our legs in the crystal-clear waters of the Gulf of Aqaba, then rode jeeps through the desert. Shabbat wasn't particularly special in our little hostel in the middle of the secular town (although the yeshiva boys dancing outside shul after davening on Friday night belied this state of affairs), but we created our own ruach and enjoyed each other's company. Besides, it was well worth it for the two previous days.

Here are a couple of previews to encourage you to click here to see all the photos I can share (that is, all the ones I took that don't have people in them):

Doubts, Doubts, Go Away

2006-03-01T23:54:00.000-05:00

ב' אדר, תשס״ו

My t'fila teacher started class on Monday evening with the pasuk we've been singing all week:

"משנכנס אדר מרבים בשמחה"
Roughly translated: From the entrance of [the month of] Adar, we increase happiness

Basically, it's a mitzva to be happy this month (even more than usually...we'll leave that other pasuk alone for now). And happiness, she tells us, is the unraveling, the nullification, the alleviation of doubt. She's right. I have no problem being happy until it's corrupted by either loneliness or doubt. Thanks, I say, for pointing that out. But HOW to get rid of it???

She hasn't answered me yet...

My Funky Israeli Shoes

2006-02-22T14:28:00.000-05:00

כ״ד שבט

Just wanted to show you all a picture of my shoes. They're handmade, and they're green, and they're fun. And they're not even so new anymore, but they feel new in that I still love looking down at my feet when I'm wearing them. :-)

New Year

2006-02-13T21:20:00.000-05:00

ט״ז שבט

I'm a bit late, but at least for the folks on the west side of the Atlantic...Happy Tu B'Shvat! (Jewish "New Year of the Trees" -- there's a lot of material here that I couldn't even begin to explain...)

An apt quote from the seder I was at last night: "The quality of Eretz Yisrael is in the ability for G-dliness to reside in physicality."

Indeed.

Beneath the Surface

2006-02-03T02:13:00.000-05:00

ה׳ שבט

So I realize that among all my pictures and anecdotes, I haven't really been telling much about my experiences of learning, which is, after all, my primary activity and purpose here. Part of the reason for that is because my life is so full that I don't often have the time and energy to sit down and write at length. More importantly, though, it's taking me a long time to have something to write about. That may sound surprising; what I mean is that although I do take time to process, to digest, to absorb, I haven't felt anything gel. I do feel like I'm learning, and I'm sure somewhere in my subconscious I'm growing from the process. I just don't feel like I have anything to give off because of it yet. However, I can comment on some of my learning activities:

I love being in involved in gemara again. It's sometimes frustrating that a lot of the technical knowledge I've been taught over the years has never stuck in my head, so that I'm constantly looking up the same terms and trying to remember where in history -- and corresponding hierarchical authority-level -- to place rabbinical figures. Nevertheless, my background in the subject does make it easier to break down the sentence structure and reasoning style of the text, and b"H I have an aptitude for much of the type of logic it contains. Our teacher is really, really cool...and I even have the z'chut, since last week, of having a chevruta with her (and in a masechet that I happen to like much better than the one we're doing in class). How that came about is a long story, but it's a great experience!

I love learning halacha. Until this year I had never opened a Mishna Brura (not going to explain that one; either you know what it is or it's too in-depth to bother explaining) or even a Shulchan Aruch (ditto), but our teacher has introduced both, with a much-needed, thorough explanation of the content & authorship of those and related volumes and of the structure of the entire collection of fundamental halachic texts. Furthermore, we don't just learn the texts themselves; rather, through various examples of the expression and analysis of laws on the same or related topics, our (brilliant, vivacious and holy) rav demonstrates how halacha is constructed. He truly illustrates the concept of Living Torah by revealing the type of process used by poskim throughout the ages to apply rationales from stated laws to infer an entire body of parameters. I spend most of every class saying "wow" to myself, and find it so frustrating that I only have it twice a week. I absolutely thirst for it.

So I'd like to be learning more gemara and more halacha. I'd also like be learning mishna with the Kehati commentary (a fantabulous sefer of gemara-summary that I only discovered this year), and I'd like to explore the Sefer haChinuch (a sort of annotated reference guide to the 613 mitzvot that I only heard about a couple of days ago). All sorts of things that I've heard the names of but never really associated with anything I knew about are coming alive and becoming exciting...

On the flipside, I'm struggling with an internal contradiction regarding Tanach: In principle I consider it hugely important to study. That's obviously an absurd understatement; it's the core of our religion, history and culture. It drives me crazy to hear about smicha programs that practically disregard it...but in practice, I find it extremely difficult to focus on. It sounds terrible, but tanach just doesn't hold my interest the way halacha and gemara do. Maybe I haven't found the right teacher...or maybe I haven't found the right part of my brain/heart to use on it.

And speaking of spirituality (and yes, I think that's what this is about), I'm having lots of difficulty with focus and kavana in t'fila. It's also very disconcerting to recognize such beauty in the teachings I am given, the teachers who give them, the homes I enter on shabbat and the families who welcome me...and yet to feel so disconnected at random other times. Oh, well...I can only get so far so fast, I suppose.

Hmm...I entitled this post "Beneath the Surface," although I'm not sure it goes very far under. It'll have to do for now, though. Hope all you friends of mine are doing well...I miss you.

Shabbat shalom!

Asara B'Tevet in Israel

2006-01-10T20:56:00.000-05:00

י״א טבת, תשס״ו

As a parallel to my last post, what more relevant way to spend a fast day mourning the beginning of the Roman siege of Jerusalem than to tour the entire length of the Western Wall of the Temple Mount, in a tunnel under the Muslim Quarter of the Old City? And then to visit the Machon Mikdash, an institute dedicated to illustrating and replicating Temple paraphernalia in preparation for the third iteration...

An underground portion of the kotel, and the unfinished cornerstone on the northern end of the same.

Just a shot I couldn't resist...

Oh, and another one ;-)

Chanuka in Israel

2006-01-02T22:10:00.000-05:00

ב׳ טבת, תשס״ו

One of my teachers asked, at the beginning of this week, for each of us to say what we found most special about Chanuka in Israel. Some people said that it wasn't competing with Xmas, but I found that to be a rather negative way of expressing what I think was the same sentiment I had: that in Israel, Chanuka -- like all the other chagim in their respective times -- is the central celebration. It's what everything's about in the streets, and in the stores, and in people's activities. There were candles outside people's doorways, including my own:

(These weren't mine. This particular chanukiya was made out of a slab of marble from a baseboard and eight shot glasses of oil. By doorways all over the city, though, there were many more conventional chanukiyot inside ventilated glass boxes.)

Then there were rather larger chanukiyot, lit during public ceremonies:
And, just as much as I appreciated the public display of the religious aspect of the holiday, I was excited to see the standard secular celebrations revolving around the same event. There were kids in clown costumes with unicycles and juggling equipment on the Ben Yehuda midrachov, there was a huge stage in Kikar Tzion with live singing, and from the building across the street there were fireworks going off right over our heads:

I guess what I like is my culture, traditions and obsevances being "in the air," as more than a footnote.

An Evening of Song

2005-12-31T19:05:00.000-05:00

ראש חודש טבת, תשס״ו

This past Thursday night, I went to an erev shira, an evening of singing. This is a traditional Israeli social event which dates, I believe, back to the early pioneer days of singing ‘round a fire in a new settlement. I was invited by an Israeli friend from my time on kibbutz; she was one of the organizers. It was held in someone’s apartment in the neighborhood of Katamon, which is fairly renowned for its population of 30-something singles. It was called for 8:30, so when I got there at quarter to 10 I was hoping to catch some of the singing before it disintegrated to shmoozing and eating. Ha! They didn’t actually start singing until at least 11, and when I commented that they were definitely working on Jewish time, I was informed with a chuckle that Katamon time was on a level beyond that, and that ervei shira in particular followed a clock all their own. OK…

When they did finally start, there was still much chatting. After several pleas from my friend for the talkers to at least move back to the corners of the room, she finally gave up to the current and called a recess for socializing. A bit later, they started up again, and the singing got strong.

The interesting part is that despite not knowing anyone in the room besides my one friend and her brother, and not having ever heard the vast majority of the songs (I was expecting the super-oldie classics, but apparently there’s a whole generation of classics that I missed)…I actually quite enjoyed the evening. It was a nice atmosphere, nice people, nice music, and what’s more, I really appreciated being in an environment where amateur singing was the point, where it wasn’t just a corny thing that a few people were doing for a few minutes and then giggling at themselves. There’s something less pretentious about Israelis that makes that more commonly possible, I guess…

A View....

2005-12-18T22:48:00.000-05:00

י״ז כסלו, תשס״ו

I thought a few photos might be appreciated, even if I can't seem to get around to writing anything much these days. Enjoy!

The beginnings of a Yerushalayim sunset, looking down from Bayit v'Gan

Same scene, zoomed in

All over the world, there are signs on public transport asking passengers to give their seats to the elderly & disabled. Here, they just quote the Torah!

An alley in Nachlaot, a very old and quaint neighborhood of Yerushalayim

A pomegranate tree in Nachlaot. It's so cool to see rimonim growing all over the country. I even saw an etrog tree a few weeks ago...

A lone tree in the ancient town of Susya

Remains of a gemara-era synagogue in Susya

The town of Even Sapir (trans: Sapphire Stone), seen during our hike around the springs on the outskirts of Yerushalayim

Another scene from the same hike, and an underground spring that I would have very much enjoyed exploring had it not been the middle of December!

All right, enough. Hopefully there will be more to come...

Still on Planet Earth

2005-11-28T15:03:00.000-05:00

כ״ו חשון, תשס״ו

Apologies for having disappeared from the virtual world for so long. Not only do I not yet have an internet connection at home, I also don't really have time to write. Sometimes an idea for a post flits into my head, but it's long gone by the time I might have had a minute to jot it down, and extended time to flesh it out would have been non-existent anyway.

Lest anyone get the wrong impression, busy in this context is a positive adjective. My life is very full yet very simple. I learn Torah in a community of special people, both teachers and students. I don't do much else except eat out (donations always welcome ;-) ). A little English tutoring, a bit of shabbat visiting, some crocheting (mostly while in class)...and I'm happier than I've been in a very, very long time.

On one hand, this is like an extended vacation for me. I have no stringent requirements except those I've taken on myself, I have the flexibility to direct my activities according to my ongoing needs, and I am with friends both new and old. But more than that, I am fulfilling a dream, and I have set aside enough time to do it that I can allow it to be a process rather than a task. I do have an awareness of my goals, but thankfully I can leave it under the surface of my consciousness most of the time; I think it's wholesome to focus on the journey rather than the destination.

In any case, although I miss all my friends across the world, I wouldn't trade my current life for anything. I apologize for being out of touch, but please know that I frequently think of each of you and care very much that you are well. I will make an effort to be online a bit more than I have been, but can't make any promises. (For those of you who keep blogs, additional apologies for not reading them.) Meanwhile, shalom u'vracha!

New Material

2005-10-09T21:50:00.000-04:00

ז' תשרי, תשס״ו

Read on down from before my post wishing you all a Shana Tova (although I still do, and a g'mar chatima tova at that).

Apologies for my lack of emailing -- I'll get there. Please know that I really appreciate your emails even if I don't get to respond to them. Hopefully I'll get to the point where I can be in touch on a more regular basis.

Oh, and please note, if it's of interest or relevance, that Israel has moved off of Daylight Savings Time (sniff!) as of this past Saturday night, so the difference between here and the U.S. is six hours now, not seven.

Only in Israel

2005-10-09T10:35:00.000-04:00

ז' תשרי, תשס״ו

…could I learn a story in gemara involving one Abba Chilkiya and then be riding in a cab the very same evening and have another car pull up alongside to ask my driver directions to Abba Chilkiya Street.

Outsider

2005-10-07T02:00:00.000-04:00

ד׳ תשרי, תשס״ו

My school is in a rather religious neighborhood. The children in such areas are often very independent, running errands and going outside to play without direct parental supervision at much younger ages than would be expected these days in most places, because there is an unofficial but very strongly enforced “neighborhood watch.” Strangers are recognized as such and adults are alert to children, theirs or otherwise. Small children might be allowed, therefore, to go out alone even before they are old enough to safely cross the street alone; they are taught to stand on the curb until an adult comes along to cross them over.

Today I was standing in front of my school waiting for a cab. Along came a little girl of about four, maybe; she stood there at the curb looking out at the street. The procedure I’ve described above wasn’t at the top of my mind at the moment, but seeing her standing there looking purposeful but quite still I asked her in Hebrew if she was all right. She solemnly nodded her head yes without looking at me and continued to stand there. Not wanting to make her nervous, I stepped back a bit and continued to wait…and so did she. I thought maybe her mother or an older sibling was coming home soon and she was out to greet them. I’m not sure why the simple goal of crossing the street didn’t cogently occur to me, but it didn’t. After a bit I considered asking her if she was waiting for someone, but just as I was about to do so, two men in the standard black hat/black coat/white shirt attire came down the street, and I think she called out to them. One of them asked her if she wanted to cross the road, she said yes, and he walked next to her to the opposite curb before continuing on his way. She scampered off to the playground, and I was left feeling a bit foolish and rather unreasonably hurt.

Had I realized straight off what she needed, I would have offered my assistance, and my guess is she probably would have accepted, although perhaps warily. But despite the fact that I am a woman and I was standing next to her for several minutes, she wouldn’t have trusted me for the small favor that was natural for her to ask of these unknown men. Because I am an outsider, a student at a foreign institution that just happens to be located near her home, but not at all a member of her community. I suppose that’s the just way it is, and that it’s safer for these kids to recognize who is and isn’t one of their own. Nevertheless, I found it very sad to have been branded an alien among Jews by this small child.

On Pedestrianism and Other Transportation Matters

2005-10-07T00:45:00.000-04:00

ד׳ תשרי, תשס״ו

One observation I’ve made about Jerusalem in the realm of my professional “field” is that although the city is very spread out, and so because of sheer distance one might not be inclined to walk from outlying neighborhoods, there are sidewalks nearly everywhere, even along the big three-and four-lane roads. Yes, the air is unpleasantly polluted from vehicles, and yes, parking on said sidewalks is prevalent and in many places legal. But in most cases the way is (at least minimally) passable and safe, and there are designated pedestrian crossing areas even at huge five-way junctions. Unlike in the U.S., where often you have to watch for turning cars even when crossing with the light, most intersections here have reserved pedestrian green signals, meaning that when the “walk” light is on no cars have a right-of-way across the pedestrian path from any direction. Usually this entails several crosswalks across a road with islands in between, where the lights on each crossing segment are in different phases at any given time. But surprisingly enough, Israelis, who rarely wait for much else, seem to wait for the green light at each segment…wisely, I might add, as when the pedestrian light is red there are often cars turning from three lanes away that would be quite unforeseen until they were a very immediate danger. (The New York impatience in me has been taking a bit of a thrashing from my intelligence; generally I wait for the green as well.)

So I just wanted to make this point. The city overall has many traffic-flow problems, pollution as mentioned, and accessibility nightmares for handicapped people…but in certain spheres many American cities could take a lesson from Jerusalem.

Speaking to Me

2005-09-29T22:30:00.000-04:00

כ״ו אלול, תשס״ה

There is a passage in this week’s parasha that I feel is speaking directly to me, at this juncture in my life. Devarim 30:12-14 reads as follows:

לֹא בַשָּׁמַיִם הִוא לֵאמֹר מִי יַעֲלֶה-לָּנוּ הַשָּׁמַיְמָה וְיִקָּחֶהָ לָּנוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵנוּ אֹתָהּ וְנַעֲשֶׂנָּה׃ וְלֹא-מֵעֵבֶר לַיָם הִוא לֵאמֹר מִי יַעֲבָר-לָנוּ אֶל-עֵבֶר הַיָם וְיִקָּחֶהָ לָּנוּ וְיַשְׁמִעֵנוּ אֹתָהּ וְנַעֲשֶׂנָּה׃ כִּי-קָרוֹב אֵלֶיךָ הַדָּבָר מְאֹד בְּפִיךָ וּבִלְבָבְךָ לַעֲשֹׂתוֹ׃

“It is not in the heavens, to say, ‘Who will go up for us to the heavens and take it for us and we will listen and do it.’ And it is not across the ocean, to say, ‘Who will cross over for us to the other side of the ocean and take it for us and we will listen and do it.’ Rather it is very close to you, this thing, in your mouth and in your heart, to do it.” (translation mine)

The verses themselves are referring to the concept of t’shuva, and they are very valuable in that context, but on reading them earlier this week I took them to heart as a reference to the entire Torah and my potential to absorb it and live it. May I have the koach and the presence of mind to make the best possible use of that capacity this year and throughout my life.

SHANA TOVA!!!

2005-09-29T20:52:00.000-04:00

OK, so I have a couple of posts already composed or in the process of being composed on my computer, but right now I'm on someone else's computer and can't get to them. Nevertheless, I want to wish a k'tiva v'chatima tova -- an inscription and seal in the Book of Life -- and a shana tova u'metuka -- a good, sweet (and happy, healthy, peaceful, meaningful) year to everyone.

Chag sameach -- happy holiday!

(Back to my regular posting style, glossary etc...when I can)

A Word About the Fence/Wall

2005-09-25T01:24:00.000-04:00

כ"א אלול, תשס"ה

Yesterday, on my way up to the Old City, I came into a park that had an overlook over an expanse of the southeastern part of Jerusalem. Looking closely, I could see the concrete section of the security fence winding its way over the hills. This lifesaving/inconvenient/troublesome thing looks like the sound barriers along highways in the States. You’d think that the mere presence of 2,000-year-old walls in front of me would obviate the need for a sign saying, “Objects in this panorama are more significant than they appear”… but no.

Long Absence

2005-09-24T22:12:00.000-04:00

כ״א אלול, תשס״ה

Just an apology for my disappearance. I've been on the planet all this time, just not on the internet. Exactly a week ago I came back to this sidewalk bench for wireless, but for some inexplicable reason couldn't log in. I'm very glad it seems to have been just a fluke; meanwhile I've been trying to convince my apt-mate to do the necessary phone-work to get us signed up for ADSL, since I'm lacking sufficient confidence in my Hebrew skills to attempt it myself.

This shabbat was quiet but very nice. I went to a different shul than a couple of weeks ago Friday night, but it was also very sing-y and full of ruach. I had one cold meal planned for myself, and I intended to take up the open hospitality-pairing offer that most of the shuls have for the other one. But I had dinner at home, and then when I woke up this morning, it was quiet. It's the first time since I've been here that I didn't hear children shouting, bells ringing, piano playing, etc. even before I opened my eyes. I spent about a half-hour lying in bed thinking that I'd get up, get dressed and go to shul any minute...and then decided I just couldn't give up the peace. Besides, I've been up before 9 every day for the last two weeks -- often before 8 and sometimes before 7. So I stayed in bed a while longer, changed out of pajamas but not into shabbat clothes, davened, ate, learned some, took a nap, ate some more, then decided I was tired of sitting around...and walked to the kotel for mincha! It was a really nice walk, complete with lovely gardens and spectacular views, to say nothing of the final destination. It had been bothering me that I had been in Yerushalayim for more than two weeks and hadn't been to the Old City yet at all, and I'm pleased to find it was so simple to get there by foot.

I'll hopefully post more in the near future...but no promises. I need to have both the time to write and the ability to get online -- but I'll try. Shavua tov to all!

Full

2005-09-18T15:34:00.000-04:00

ט״ו אלול, תשס״ה

My shabbat was so wonderful, so complete and rich, that I was left feeling simply full. Full of rest, of singing, of spirituality and Torah, of new relationships being cultivated, of new appreciations, of much-needed interactions, of the extraordinary surroundings of Yerushalayim, and last but certainly not least, of food. If even half of my shabbatot here can be as special as this one was…

Yay For Wireless!

2005-09-12T14:42:00.000-04:00

ט' אלול, תשס"ה

As I mentioned, I don't yet have internet service at home. But I'm sitting on a bench on the sidewalk on Emek Refaim, in front of a grocery store, across the street from many of the cafes, listening to the English and Hebrew swirling around me (this is a big hang-out place for Anglos!) and to the music from an exercise class coming out of a window overhead. And blogging. This is life!

And yes, I've started classes. It's intense, but don't have anything coherent to say yet. Stay tuned...

My New Home

2005-09-11T17:30:00.000-04:00

ז' אלול, תשס"ה

My apartment is, as my apt-mate put it, “a good shell.” It will take some work to make it home, but hopefully it’ll happen. The last few days I have been occupied with getting my bearings in the neighborhood, and trying to find the necessary household furnishings and accessories at halfway reasonable prices. Both activities are still in process, and I’ve been to an interesting assortment of shopping arenas – a mall, a home center, a huge mega-supermarket (on a Thursday night when it seemed as if all the other patrons were buying their weekly supply of food for families of at least twelve), and the shuk (a.k.a Machane Yehuda, on a Friday afternoon when it’s at its peak of commotion).

The nicest part of my apartment by far is a huge front window made up of three panes, which can be opened by sliding either one or two of which behind the third. When it is wide open it makes the front room almost like a balcony (which we don’t have), and makes the entire common space of the apartment airy. There are two elementary schools across the street, so there is the sound of children playing outside all day, and at intervals there is a gentle, four-tone electronic chime which is the equivalent of a school bell here. There is a tree a few feet from the window, so when the breeze blows it rustles the leaves, and the window faces approximately north-northeast, so there is sun in the morning.

Speaking of direction, I had a thrilling realization the first morning. I wanted to daven shacharit, but I didn’t know which way was east, so I pulled out my map of the city. Looking it over, however, I realized that although all my life it had been ingrained in me to daven facing east, so as to face Jerusalem, here in Jerusalem I needed to face towards the Old City, within which is the kotel and har habayit. And that…is north-northeast from my apartment! So my favorite spot in this new home is also becoming my makom kavua, my customary space for prayer.

The buildings are all made of Jerusalem stone, which I think is beautiful, but they don’t actually all look the same. Some are rough cut and some smooth; some are stained and crumbling and others a fresh, bright cream color; some have a preponderance of ugly metal sheeting on the fronts, trisim and otherwise, and others have uniquely-placed mirpasot built deliberately where there is nothing above them, and often with permanent beams over them, in order to accommodate sukkot. The streets in the neighborhood are mostly named after the shvatim and other random Biblical characters, with a few other theme-appropriate ones thrown in, such as Kibutz Galuyot, “Ingathering of Exiles.” So far I’ve only walked along a limited selection of routes, but already I’ve passed four shuls. I’m thinking I’ll try a new one each week…

That’s about all there is to tell at this point. I begin my classes tomorrow morning…I’m sure there will soon be much more to tell and much less time to tell it in!

A Few Notes

2005-09-10T15:15:00.000-04:00

ז' אלול, תשס"ה

Well, I’m here in Jerusalem, and slowly getting settled. I can tell now that my posts in the near future will have certain characteristics that could do with explanation, so:

1) I do not yet have internet access at home, and until I do I will probably write when I have time to do so and connect to the internet to actually post what I write at other times, but I’ll post-date to when I wrote (on Israel time, of course).

2) I will probably be using many more Hebrew and Jewish-related words than I have so far, so I have begun building a glossary to which each of these words in the new posts will be linked. Eventually I hope to have all such words in previous posts (with the exception of extremely basic ones like shabbat) linked and explained as well. For now, please consider the glossary a work in progress.

Over and Out

2005-09-06T17:15:00.000-04:00

Well, that's it. I'm about to disconnect the router. Next time you hear from me, b"H, will be from eretz hakodesh. Farewell!

Grandiose Feelings of Destiny

2005-09-06T13:00:00.000-04:00

This song has been running in my head since I woke up this morning:

"פתאום קם אדם בבוקר ומרגיש כי הוא עם ומתחיל ללכת,
ולכל הנפגש בדרכו קורא הוא שלום"

"Suddenly a man [or a human] wakes up in the morning and feels he is a nation and begins to walk
And to all he meets on his way he calls out 'Shalom!'"

T-10

Challenge

2005-09-05T22:15:00.000-04:00

T-24:45 and counting. My mom took me out to my last Eden Wok all-you-can-eat buffet, and my furtune cookie was quite amazingly apropos: "There are many new opportunities that are being presented to you."

Ain't that the truth...

Um...Countdown Time?

2005-09-04T23:01:00.000-04:00

48 hours and counting...

Saying It Like It Is

2005-09-04T21:58:00.000-04:00

When I was up in Ithaca last week, my friend Ilan showed me a marvelous T-shirt that was produced by Cornell Engineering students. The front is quite innocuous:

The back, however, tells all:

The last thing I need is another T-shirt, but it was just too perfect -- I couldn't resist. I bought it off of him on the spot.

The funniest part, though, is the picture I saw on the front page of the Cornell Daily Sun, showing students selling the shirts on campus under the caption "Engineering Pride" HA!

Spooky Prescience

2005-09-04T21:07:00.000-04:00

On September 12, 2001, I remember walking down the street on the way to find out when and how to donate blood to a local hospital, and I stopped short in front of an advertisement on the side of a phone booth. It was a silhouette of the twin towers, and there was some implication in the ad that I found extremely eery. I've been trying to remember what the gist of it was, or even what it was an ad for, but I'm not succeeding. All that stuck with me was the sense that the people who created it and put it up a week or two earlier must have been feeling rather ill around then.

I'm only recalling this at all because The History Channel is running an ad on the sides of NYC buses for their show on Rome: Engineering an Empire that says, "The World's First Superdome: Rome" with a sketch of the Collosseum.

What's going on???

[I know many people have been asking that question regarding much more pertinent and urgent matters related to Katrina's destruction and our government's lack of sufficient response, but I have nothing original to say. It's dreadful.]

Halacha, Hashkafa and Life

2005-08-29T11:09:00.000-04:00

OK, so this is one of those posts I started a long time back and haven't found it in myself to "tie up" until now. The trigger is now out of context, but the questions it's raised are very much at the heart of what I hope to address next year (which starts in a week -- eek!)

OrthoMom's post during the Nine Days on halachic loopholes really struck a chord with me. I often feel very contrary and unfulfilled about the laws of the nine days, because many of the elements of daily life that are restricted so as to encourage mourning and represent sadness just don't do it for me. I prefer dairy to meat and I consider laundry a chore, so why should keeping these laws get me in the right mood for Tisha B'Av? In fact, I often feel compelled to refrain from certain other activities that strike me as comparable in intention to the prohibited ones, because that would at least provide enough annoyance to be a reminder of the spirit I'm supposed to maintain. If there are three weeks when I'm not allowed to cut my hair, which I only do a couple of times a year at most anyway when I finally get fed up with the number of split ends I have, why should I be permitted to polish my nails during that time?

But it is the comments to the post which raise the most salient points, because the actual answer to my semi-rhetorical question is that Chazal¹, the makers of halacha², chose the "universal" symbols of joy and sorrow, and subscribing to those standards on a national level is inherently significant for the formation and maintenance of unity, tradition, communal identification. Fine. So I'll buy the necessity of imposing personally meaningless limitations in order to create a collectively meaningful mood. But how about when the defining line is not me vs. us but rather then vs. now? If women had been accustomed to painting their nails in Chazal's time (or were they?) would it have been forbidden during the three weeks? That's the justification for some poskim³ who don't consider a woman's voice to be erva⁴ these days, because it's just too common to hear women singing for it to arouse much of anything. That rationale is far from universally accepted, though.

I think what's eating me here -- of course -- is the fine, almost invisible line between the nature of the changes that are made by mainstream Orthodox (if there is there such a thing) halachic decision-makers, and those that are determined to be unacceptable lest we stray too far from halacha. My need is to take a closer look at what halacha is, exactly, and who/what created each manifestation of it. Because although I do value the body of rabbinic thought, discussion and lawmaking that our tradition treats as part and parcel of Torah, and I do not think that any of it can be disregarded out of hand (i.e. I am not a Karaite), it seems to me there should be a big difference in the treatment, by the gedolei hador⁵, of a law that is derived directly from the Five Books, and one that is either extrapolated within an inch of its life (a geder⁶ on a geder on a geder on a geder on a geder, if you will), and one that has its origin solely in the minds of Chazal because the instigation for the law was an event that occurred later in our history.

In the small hope that there may be someone reading this blog who I don't already know of, and in consideration of the possibility that this unknown figment of my imagination might not be familiar with the terms I use, I'm trying to make this post unidentified-reader-friendly. At some point I hope to go back through previous posts and provide more explanation/translation, or create a glossary altogether, but until then...
1 - Acronym for CHAchameinu Zichronam Liv'racha, literally "Our wise ones, may their memories be a blessing"
2 - Jewish law
3 - Halachic decision-makers
4 - Without going into a much-too-complicated discussion, a part of the (generally female) body which may not be seen, or in this case, voice which may not be heard (by men)
5 - The most learned minds of each generation
6 - A "fence", an enactment that is meant to prevent the practitioner from even coming near the possibility of transgressing a certain law

Exodus Spoiled

2005-08-24T00:38:00.000-04:00

For some reason, I decided that I ought to see* the movie Exodus, especially having read the book and appreciated it. It was a foolish thought. The film exemplifies the reason that I try to avoid movies made from books that I've read. It changed key details of the plot and of the characters' personalities to make for better (and shorter) screenplay, and it completely skipped huge chunks of background information -- the stuff that made the written drama compelling. Without the personal histories of the characters, their behaviors on the story were shallow and pointless. I understand that the nearly four-hour movie couldn't have included much more than it did...but that's why producers and screenwriters should stay away from epic novels and create epic films of their own merit instead.

* Actually, I saw it quite some time ago, but I've gotten into the aggravating habit of writing a few lines of a post to remind myself what I want to write about, then leaving it for another time...which never comes because I'm too busy, tired, or disconnected to write the rest of it. I'm afraid there are more posts of this nature in the wings.

Sorrow

2005-08-16T18:11:00.000-04:00

There are so many reasons to cry, but what actually set me off today was this interview with Major General Dan Harel, who is the chief of the IDF Southern Command and in charge of the evacuation. He thankfully has a balanced, nuanced understanding of the pain of this situation, and a deep respect for the settlers themselves, their contributions to the country and their lifestyle. But oh, what a commitment he has to what he's doing, whether or not he believes it's the right move (and he won't share that opinion). It's inspiring and heartbreaking at the same time.

Irony

2005-08-15T18:23:00.000-04:00

It's funny how Tisha B'Av came and went, and I didn't even feel particularly sad. I tried, but I didn't really feel it. Yet every other day I want to cry -- I cried myself to sleep one night the week before last. My guess is it's because I only read eicha and kinot yesterday...not the news.

T'filot

2005-08-15T03:09:00.000-04:00

As if I wasn't praying hard enough -- gee, writing that sentence brought me up short. Because really, I haven't been. I mean, I've been praying, but I haven't been davening, if you catch the difference. I have a long way to go to correct that but I'll try.

Back to what I started to say, but I guess I better put it a little differently: As if I didn't have enough to pray for in general, about the pending situation in Israel right now, a dear friend of mine, with her husband and their three children (all under the age of 5), are camped out in Gush Katif. I called her this morning (that is, Monday morning, because I am still up even if I shouldn't be) to find out if they were still there and to beg her to leave before, at the very least, her babies see things they really shouldn't see. I won't dispute her political position, as I've mentioned before -- my feelings and opinions are too confused for that. But I can't imagine, at this point, that the eviction will not occur, so added to my prayers is one that she makes a good decision and keeps her family safe, physically and otherwise. Please, Adina???

Tisha B'Av activities

2005-08-15T02:55:00.000-04:00

Other posts still swirling in the background, but for now...

Interesting that one is not allowed to learn Torah on Ticha B'Av because it is a joyous activity, and in fact should be the epitome of our joy. Yet I don't think (please correct me if I'm wrong) that other potentially joyous mitzvot are off-limits. This afternoon my mother and I visited an elderly homebound woman who we know from our long membership, years ago, to a certain Conservative shul, and from there we went to the hospital to visit our neighbor who gave birth on Shabbat to a beautiful baby girl. Is there any discussion of the propriety of such activities on our national day of mourning? Perhaps there's an unstated (or stated?) hope that performance of mitzvot ben adam l'chavero will continue unabated and somehow catch up with our balance of sinat chinam that has prevented the Beit Hamikdash from yet being rebuilt?

Bygone Conductors

2005-08-11T22:59:00.000-04:00

So I know this plan to cut conductors on many subway lines came out a while ago, but it's egregious enough to say something still. I know the MTA cites cities all over the world whose transit systems are operated by only one person, or are automated entirely...but those cities are not New York. Most of those cities don't have 4.5 million people a day crushing into train cars in all weathers, above and below ground, on 660 miles of track between 468 stations. Most of them also are not known worldwide for a rough-and-tumble population who have more than their share of...well, chutzpa.

To be perfectly honest, I don't know whether the one-person or automated systems that exist are safe or not, but it seems like it should be fairly intuitive that if there's only one person operating a train, there's a risk of something happening to that person and less recourse if it does. Besides, there's a sign in every subway car that insists that in case of any type of emergency, passengers should first and foremost listen to the train crew. What "crew" will they be referring to, exactly, if their plan is implemented??

Meeting Up

2005-08-10T23:53:00.000-04:00

How very nice it is to discover that really cool bloggers are just as great in person! And of course, to spend time with another for whom that discovery has already been made.

Discovery is Home

2005-08-09T08:48:00.000-04:00

It's nice to know that at least some things can still go right these days.

Truly Selective Hearing

2005-08-08T22:28:00.000-04:00

My dad has a bumper-sticker type of sign that says, "My wife says I never listen to her...or something like that." Now it seems he has scientific reinforcement!

(Courtesy of Orthomom)

Exciting Mail

2005-08-08T22:24:00.000-04:00

In Josh's words...'nuff said.

In Hiding

2005-08-04T19:47:00.000-04:00

In case any of my few readers are wondering why I'm not posting, it's just because I haven't been in the mood to write. I actually have several empty drafts that I titled and saved to remind me what I wanted to write about, but don't feel like composing them. I'm stressed and anxious about all the things I need to do in the next month, I'm sick over what's happening in Israel, I'm exhausted every day from my mental revolutions and from the heat.

Hopefully I'll get back into it soon.

Now That You Point It Out...

2005-07-26T23:48:00.000-04:00

I've felt for a while that I identify with the mixed orange-blue sentiment, symbolized nicely by itsnodream. In keeping with my general indecisiveness, I've not been vehemently on either side of the raging controversy. I hear a lot of sense in the concept that this move is, as my friend Yoel puts it, "cutting off a limb to save a life." A unilateral seperation puts a clear line between us and them, and it tests them in front of the world. Not that I really believe that we can gain legitimacy in the eyes of the world, but it doesn't hurt to illustrate a dictionary of right/wrong definitions.

But detracting from that imperative is the fear that we are, indeed, rewarding terror, and the complementary fear that we are allowing the source of attacks to come within that much closer range of Israel proper. And of course I have a huge amount of pity for the families who were encouraged to build their lives where they did and now must watch everything be destroyed.

So I have mixed feelings, and I simplistically thought (as others have as well (that last link refers to the July 4 post)) that that would be appropriately represented by intertwining both colors, especially with the addition of white. Blue and white to emphasize what they have symbolized for ages, and orange for the legitimate dissension. But Shanna's recent post has made me think twice.

In choosing orange, the anti-disengagement camp set themselves against the blue. They chose agression instead of cooperation, separation instead of unity. "Jews dont expel Jews" has a much stronger message when we're all wearing the same color.

Hmm.

Addendum: For some good points (and some not-so-good points) on issues from both sides, see the recent discussion over at Chayyei Sarah

Moving right along

2005-07-24T23:55:00.000-04:00

It seems we have an apartment, for a great price (including a labor exchange from me), in a great location. I don't know firsthand that the place itself is great, but let's say I have it on reliable authority.

I've also finally finished the Nishmat application and the Masa application and sent them both in, after much hair-pulling, whining, and Kinko's-cursing.

And I've purchased a ticket to Florida to visit my grandfather before I leave the country.

It's only a dent in the list of things I need to accomplish in the next less-than-month, but a start's a start.

Wow, indeed

2005-07-22T13:32:00.000-04:00

See the wonderful picture over at Orthomom. That's what's special about us...

The (first) Deed is Done

2005-07-20T13:45:00.000-04:00

Alisha is going to Israel.

September 6, 11:oopm.

$374, Israir.

It's a shame I will miss the start of the Nishmat program on Sept. 4, but I am bowing to my panic and to the experience of several comrades who are experienced in the art of moving-to-Israel-to-learn-with-no-money.

Kadima.

Sigh

2005-07-17T23:20:00.000-04:00

If only I were looking for an internship in Jerusalem...

On News and Fuzzy Elephants

2005-07-17T00:55:00.000-04:00

My mother regularly watches ABC News' This Week with George Stephanopoulos, and sometimes shares with me and my father something that she heard him say.

My mother, however, often has trouble remembering names, and his multi-syllabic one is more difficult than most. So today at lunch, when she made reference to an item she'd heard from him, she tried to tell us who said it, and couldn't think of the name. So she floundered for a minute, and then said to my dad, "...oh, you know -- the elephant!"

Harry Potter Hysteria

2005-07-17T00:42:00.000-04:00

I understand that the Harry Potter books are fun and enjoyable; in fact, I enjoy reading them myself. I understand that they're a big fad with kids, and even with adults, and that fads sometimes get overblown by the commercial powers-that-be. Still, walking home on Friday at about 6pm and looking at the NYPD barricades blocking a third of the width of the sidewalk in front of Barnes & Noble in preparation for the line that was already forming for the midnight party in celebration of the release of Book #6, watching people be received at the sign that read "Ask for a yellow bracelet if you have pre-reserved your copy"... I found myself thinking that really, this has gotten just a bit out of hand.

But happy reading, everyone.

Perks

2005-07-12T21:52:00.000-04:00

While looking something up, I ran across this in the US Postal Service International Mail Manual:

143.3 Mail of a Former President and Surviving Spouse of a Former President
All nonpolitical mail of former United States Presidents, and of the surviving spouse of a former President, must be accepted without prepayment of postage if it bears the written signature of the sender, or a facsimile signature and the words "POSTAGE AND FEES PAID" in the upper-right corner of the address side.

Seems inconsequential, but I'm trying to decide if I think it's appropriate in principle or not. An employee of the government should of course get government perks, but an ex-employee? Call it part of the pension maybe...but somehow complimentary postal services seems a bit more pretentious than covered health care.

Color-mania

2005-07-12T00:47:00.000-04:00

Here's a funny satire on the "color war" going on in Israel these days.

(via Allison)

Disturbing Humor

2005-07-05T22:27:00.000-04:00

There is a site, www.homeless.co.il, which is a (rather aptly named) database of apartment listings in Israel. And in the Jerusalem category of that site, there is an apartment listed for rent of $20, in the neighborhood of "Jerusalem," at the address of "Jerusalem." And this is the picture included.

I hope this was meant just as a joke, although it's not in my taste. If it was meant as political satire I'd find it even more disturbing.

Fresh-air-less

2005-07-04T19:07:00.000-04:00

My situation today has been somewhat annoying. Yes, I'm enjoying having a day off and certainly enjoying my parents' vacation (although they're probably enjoying it more!) But I've been caught today between a number of things that I've been wanting and/or needing to do at home and wanting to be outside, because it's so freakin' beautiful. I might actually forfeit some of the at-home activities and go out, though, if I could think of what to do outside besides lie on the grass in the park with a book. (Not to suggest that isn't an enjoyable pastime, but it's only comfortable for so long, and inertia tends to outweigh my impulse to travel somewhere to do something I can just as easily do right where I am.)

"Nothing to do in Manhattan???" you ask in shocked disbelief? Well, yes. I've had this problem -- and that reaction -- my whole life. Sure, I could wander around Central Park, but I did that yesterday with a friend, and alone, especially among the throngs of people on a gorgeous holiday weekend, it's not so attractive. I could wander the streets, but truth be told I get suffient temptations to spend money just en route from home to work and back each day -- I don't need to exacerbate the situation. I don't tend to enjoy museums, especially not by myself, and besides, that's not outside. So?

Right. So that's why, except for one short errand, I've been sealed in this apartment all day. Yuck.

Sensory Interference

2005-07-01T00:58:00.000-04:00

Have you ever tried eating something with your hands when they have a strong smell on them?

Garlic peach...mmm...

One Glimmer...

2005-06-27T20:27:00.000-04:00

I meant to post this last week when I found this article about the life of Robert F. Maguire, Jr., who apparently dedicated a great portion of his life and career to bringing refugee Jews from all over the world home to Israel. Most notably, he was the lead pilot for Operation Magic Carpet, the project that evacuated nearly the entire Jewish population of Yemen from Aden in 1948-50.

I am grateful not only to learn about this chaver, but also to clarify at least one true identity out of my historical confusion surrounding Exodus. Maguire seems to have been loosely represented by Foster J. MacWilliams.

Presto!

2005-06-27T19:55:00.000-04:00

Blogger has a new feature -- you can upload pictures directly into a post! They couldn't have come up with this a couple of months ago before I downloaded, installed and figured out how to use Hello?

But in any case, I'll test it out...

Cool!

Messy

2005-06-23T23:00:00.000-04:00

#1 dis-recommended method for cracking a raw egg: on one's head, as Ramona inadvertently did.

#2 dis-recommended method for cracking a raw egg: in the palm of one's hand, as I just inadvertently did.

Don't worry, I washed my hands before blogging about it.

Intriguing

2005-06-23T18:02:00.000-04:00

Granted, this isn't quite as perplexing as Uberimma's case of the Amish/Jewish mystery family. But today on the way home I was on the bus with an Asian-looking woman and three Asian-looking kids. Except the boy was wearing a black velvet kippa over his straight dark hair, among which were long straight strands of pei'ot. And he had tzitit hanging out from under his T-shirt over his shorts. And when his mother addressed the younger girl as "Sarah," she pronounced the a as in "car," like you would in Hebrew, rather than as in "care" like the English version of the name. And the older girl was wearing a long skirt. But the mother (as I assume she was) was wearing a relatively short skirt, as in above the knee.

Curious. I'm just very, very curious. I'd love to know these people's stories...

Just What Israel Doesn't Need

2005-06-21T21:14:00.000-04:00

...another tragedy. Baruch Dayan Emet.

Self-Deception All Around

2005-06-21T20:58:00.000-04:00

There was a recent survey that found that most Arab Israelis are ok with Israel being a Jewish state, just not a Zionist one. The difference in their minds, as explained in Ha'aretz, goes like this:

Israeli Arabs believe that a Jewish state is a state in which most of the citizens are Jewish, whereas a Zionist state is a state for the Jewish people from around the world.

"For Zionists, one of the goals Israel should set itself is maintaining its Jewish majority at all costs," says Smooha. "That is a Zionist goal, and includes settlement in the Jewish sense and the ingathering of exiles by means of the Law of Return. But the Arabs are not willing to accept this situation in perpetuity."

This seems to mean that unlike many Arabs who call themselves Palestinians and want the Jewish state to disappear immediately if not sooner, 70% of Israeli Arabs don't mind there being a Jewish state, as long as it is temporary. That is, as long as Israel is in danger of demographic demise, these Arabs are happy to call themselves Israeli citizens. Great.

Now let's check the Jewish perspective:

The survey also found that 75 percent of the Jewish respondents agreed with the statement, "Israeli Arabs have the right to live here as equal citizens with full rights." Some 80 percent of the Jewish respondents, however, said that an Israel Arab who defines himself as "a Palestinian Arab in Israel cannot be loyal to the state and its laws."

So most Jews, not surprisingly, are wont to suspect any Arab who insists on keeping a "Palestinian" identity despite living in Israel, because, of course, so many Palestinians reject the Jewish state. But the same Jews are fine with Arabs who are willing to call themselves Israelis, because presumably their acceptance of that title implies acceptance of Israel itself with her goals and prerogatives.

I'll bet the Jews taking their section of this survey weren't told about the results to the Arab section before they answered...

They Start Younger Every Year...

2005-06-21T19:40:00.000-04:00

Nearly three weeks ago, I wore a black cap and gown for my college graduation.

Eight years ago, I wore a white cap and gown for my high school graduation.

I was walking to the subway last Friday morning and saw a little girl dressed in a baby-pink gown, trying to fix her cap...for her kindergarten graduation??

When I finished sixth grade, I graduated from the "lower school," and there was a ceremony, but officially it was called "advancement." Not graduation, not commencement, and certainly no regalia. I'm not sure how I feel about this trend of aggrandizing every step. It's cute and exciting for a little kid to think they're graduating, just like they've probably seen older relatives do. I guess it falls into the category of positive reinforcement, especially if they had to exhibit certain good behaviors associated with having successfully absorbed the values taught in kindergarten. But still, part of me thinks it's just a wee bit melodramatic. I guess that's the part of me that hasn't yet gotten over being selfishly jealous over my own hard-earned claim to the title "graduate."

Restoring Torahs to Life

2005-06-20T01:48:00.000-04:00

This is truly amazing...

Thank you

2005-06-16T22:46:00.000-04:00

...to so many of my wonderful, amazing friends who got me a really cool present, and even more importantly make me feel special and loved.

I love you back.

What I Want to Do in Israel

2005-06-15T00:38:00.000-04:00

Many people have asked me why I'm so set on going to Israel. What exactly do I want to learn? How do I believe it will help me? In choosing specific programs, I have stated that I need flexibilty, because I have very specific goals. Here I will finally set them down in writing:

1) I want to learn halacha. More precisely, I want to better understand the halachot that I encounter in my daily life. I seem to have a basket of questions that flies open at every point when my certainty of what to do in a particular situation fails, or, even more often, when my comprehension of why I must do it falls short. I'm not only looking for the answer, but for an understanding of the context in which the answer was decided, including any alternative opinions and their rationales. By all rights I should have been keeping a list of all these over at least the past year, but I have no doubt that by simply living my life the questions will re-arise in partnership with their related situations. And, when I approach each one, I know full well that its answer(s) may likely raise a further web of perplexities, which is why I have been avoiding rather than addressing the initial questions for such a long time. I hope to have a year in which I need not cast aside my stated priorities for such trivialities as spiritual understanding...because that will be my stated priority.

2) I want to learn how to learn. Most likely, in a yeshiva atmosphere, when I ask my questions the responses will include directions to certain sources, certain texts. Right now I need that direction to be extremely specific, and I will also need assistance in deciphering the sources once I find them. I hope to learn the structure of codification and commentary so that I might have some idea of how to look something up on my own, and to gain enough practice in doing so that I'd have a chance at reaching an answer, or at least at perusing the conversation of the topic, independently.

3) I want to accomplish something purely for myself. Yes, I'd like to learn Torah l'shma -- for its own sake -- but to do that will inherently also be a reclamation of my own will and my ability to apply it. For so many years I have been a slave to an educational system that has been determined and required by external forces, and my psyche has devised innumerable tricks to loosen the chains. I now need to redevelop the ability to focus when the goal is of my own creation. I need to approach something that is hard for me and pursue it relentlessly, not because I must, for a change, but because I want to and therefore must prove to myself that I can.

Having stated these three main purposes, I must clarify that I do not want #1 to dominate all my learning time. I also want to learn Tanach and Talmud and Hashkafa, etc. I do plan to take some actual courses where the curriculum is predetermined. But even this will engage all the points above, as I know that my web of questions will be triggered just as readily by these areas of Torah as by practical halachic investigation, I want to gain skills for independent study in these topics as well, and I certainly include such study as equally worthy of the devotion-to-a-goal that I must learn to implement.

Having said all this, I must also admit that I am quite scared. Scared that my goals are too huge, that a year is nowhere near long enough to do one fiftieth of what I hope to do, that there is no yeshiva that will be able or willing to provide me (who has no spectacular background in learning nor lofty goals of becoming an educator/Jewish leader) with enough individual attention to accomplish what I hope to, that I don't actually have the internal strength to concentrate so intensely and extensively. Scared that I am laying too much self-redemption for all my years of intellectual laziness, religious shirking, inadequate self-improvement, on this one year.

And so here I hover, on the edge of a new era of my life, worrying about having enough money to support myself for a year, and eager, apprehensive, excited and anxious all at once about what the year will bring.

Transit Gripes

2005-06-09T20:06:00.000-04:00

I work in a field that is dedicated to promoting alternative forms of transportation, which usually means transit. But in NYC, transit is pretty standard. The subway is a way of life. So I wanted to try a new alternative: ferry. After all, I live two blocks from the river, and the New York Water Taxi docks literally right behind my office building. So why not? Well, it seems that they've recently discontinued service to the uptown pier, the one in Carl Schurz Park. The interruption might be temporary, the woman at the info booth tells me. Perhaps it will start running again after the summer.

Gee, thanks.

And then there's the other alternative: non-motorized transport. I would love to bike to work. It would make me feel so good. But I refuse to ride in Manhattan traffic -- too dangerous. No problem, right? There's a Greenway nearly the whole way around the island, with no motor-vehicle traffic at all most of the way and only light traffic for most of the rest. Note those two words, "nearly" and "most." And then take a closer look at the map and see the only spot in which the bike path detours into high-traffic conditions for over a mile. But of course they can't have a bike path running right behind the UN! Those bikes are ever so much more of a security risk than all those harmless cars and trucks and buses running up First Avenue!

*Sigh*

They Just Don't Get It

2005-06-07T12:21:00.000-04:00

I've been tolerating my job. Sometimes I have things to do, some of which are more annoying than others. All too frequently, still, I have nothing to do. They give me one small task, which usually couldn't take more than an hour even if I drag it out, and several more "projects" which generally involve waiting for someone else to do something and then following up with another small task, or watching a process that I know nothing about, ostensibly being there to help but serving absolutely no useful purpose...either because someone else is already actually doing it or because I know nothing about it.

I've discussed this with my boss. He's told me to tell him when I need something to do. Usually I do. Often as not, though, he gives me another mini-task, or refers me to someone else who has another project...all of which results in the same kind of scenario as I described above.

They think I'm busy, even though I tell them otherwise. They think that they're giving me lots to do. They apologize when they interrupt me, because they "know" I'm busy. Correcting them doesn't help. After all this while I often give up.

I suppose I should be grateful. I email, I read blogs (the parts I can get to through the firewall), I write posts to my own. But all the time my fingers are on those alt-tab keys, like I'm the one who's doing something wrong by not doing the work I don't have. And it doesn't help that the executive director (with whom I have very little contact) has his office right behind my cubicle. Behind, mind you, so the door faces my screen.

Probably nobody pays me half the attention I think they do. They probably all mind their own business and assume I'm doing lots of important work. But I'd hate to be called for an explanation if anyone ever looked at a log of my internet usage...

Today's Activity: Saluting Israel and the Thanking the U.S.

2005-06-05T22:45:00.000-04:00

Check out ClooJew's complaints about the Salute to Israel Parade...but please read the comments, which I have shamelessly dominated. (Sorry, ClooJew.)

And take a look at this picture, which illustrates my feelings ever so well (although the effect was completely accidental!):

Dual Identities...

Graduation Musings

2005-06-05T13:08:00.000-04:00

OK, so a week ago I was going to post this "soon," and it was going to have a lot more content. I've decided to stop racking my brains for meaningful comments and just go with the few that come to mind:

Marching in a procession is very nice. But the really cool, really unbelievable part is passing under a "grandstand" filled with red-robed trustees, and down a path lined with similarly regaled faculty and administration, and having them standing there and applauding for me. Wow.

Having a flat board resting on the top of my head for five-ish hours is a very good way to acquire a splitting headache. And when I say splitting, I mean that my head felt like it was about to split open in all directions from that point.

Who can say "anti-climax" ???

sniffle

2005-06-02T12:12:00.000-04:00

Whoever invents the cure for the common cold should be awarded the Nobel Prize.

Just my humble opinion.

Update, 5:08am: Have I mentioned that having a cold **pause, run for tissue** SUCKS???!

Whew

2005-05-31T01:09:00.000-04:00

I'm back from The Big Event, and recovering, but I'm too scatterbrained at the moment to say anything of substance...except thank you, G-d. Baruch ata Hashem, Elokeinu melech ha'olam, shehechiyanu v'kiyemanu v'higiyanu lazman hazeh. Oh, and thank you for the weather, too. :-)

A few pics, though:

Dressed for the occasion

A bit of scenery

My new friend, Ezra

DONE

2005-05-25T11:35:00.000-04:00

So I suppose I should have mentioned this yesterday...

I'm a free woman.

Pray!

2005-05-24T20:06:00.000-04:00

You're not praying hard enough!

Flavor Resurrection Alert

2005-05-22T20:46:00.000-04:00

Until the end of the month, Ben & Jerry's is accepting votes to resurrect your favorite of ten choices from their flavor graveyard. Vote once a day, and get a coupon when you do!

Continuity of a Sefer Torah

2005-05-22T11:48:00.000-04:00

Thanks to Soferet for bringing this article to attention. Frankly, I find it quite frightening. If it takes a non-Jewish conservator to care whether a sefer Torah is repaired properly, more than a rabbi and an entire Jewish congregation who lack the skills but should possess and understanding of the significance, and more than a sofer who should possess both the skills and the understanding...something's very, very wrong.

Irony

2005-05-22T01:16:00.000-04:00

Cornell's policy for students transferring from one college to another within the university is that their cumulative GPA zeros out and, in the end, consist only of the GPA they earn while a registered student in the college from which they graduate.

In my case, because I started taking CRP courses while still in a "terminal semester" in the College of Engineering, was then not accepted for a direct transfer but instead sent to the Internal Transfer Division (aka Never-Never Land), and then fled the university again requiring that I remain in ITD for a second semester, I spent exactly one semester in the College of Architecture, Art & Planning. This means that my cumulative GPA is exactly equal to the GPA I received in the Fall of 2004.

The irony here is that while my entire transcript ranges from atrocious to excellent, so that I should have an overall mediocre GPA, in that last semester I did very well. So well, in fact, that based on my "cumulative GPA" they designated me as one of the "Name Banner Bearers" to carry the banner with the College's name during the procession into the stadium, and apparently that means they're going to announce my name, among those of the other bearers, as we come in. I'm weirded out and honored at the same time. The whole thing seems absurd to me, considering all I've gone through just to get my name on a diploma at all...and yet I couldn't turn it down. It feels too good.

Now, just pray that it doesn't rain!

Quote of the Week

2005-05-21T23:50:00.000-04:00

From my mother:

"But won't cyberspace eventually fill up?"

Ah, well...she did her dissertation on punch cards.

Let It Rain...and Then STOP!

2005-05-20T19:18:00.000-04:00

It can rain all week if it wants. I won't complain. Just please, please, please, PLEASE don't rain next weekend.

Long walks, big hills, outdoor ceremonies, 85-year-old grandfather in wheelchair. Rain would be a very bad thing.

PLEASE.