Experiment in Democracy

Let's try something today.  The next young person who you think looks like they are over 18 (old enough to vote guys... jeez-o-pete, how do we ever have a serious conversation?), ask this question:

Who is John Kerry?

No fair asking the kid at your table who is studying for his/her AP finals, just ask a stranger.

They will get full credit for any of the following answers:

• The new Secretary of State
• Senior Senator from Massachusetts 
• A Senator
• A guy from New England
• The Swift Boat guy
• The guy who ran against W.
• A one time presidential contender
• Wasn't his mom a Forbes?
• The guy on TV who kind of looks like Guy Smiley

Extra credit if they know what the State Department is.  Zero credit if they look it up on their phone.  Zero credit if they just stare blankly.  Partial credit for any smart ass answer (because at least they had to try to think of something clever).

Now.  Remember this conversation the next time you tell me democracy is the purest form of government.  Remember that the kid you talked to has a vote that counts EXACTLY as much as yours.  Don't blame the kid.  It's not the kids' fault that we didn't educate them enough to be able to wisely choose leaders.  And it's not the kids' fault that they were born into a democracy that they now have the power to screw up as much as they like.

As far as I'm concerned, democracy is a crap shoot.

If anyone gives you a particularly funny answer, please leave it in the comments section.

Google Ads

I love Google Ads.  I have no income stream, and with the ads I still don't know if I have an income stream.  It's really easy to set up the ads, but I still haven't figured out how to let them know where to send the supposed income.  Since I haven't gotten any checks yet, it might just be a virtual idea to them.  Virtual money is cheap, so I'm sure it keeps their bottom line looking good.

They do totally crack me up though.  I like seeing the first ads they attach to my posts.  Today is a case in point.  I wrote about biblical superheroes yesterday and both ads this morning were for drug rehab.  This leads me to some interesting musings... Do they think that religious believers need some type of medical intervention?  Or was it the bit about Jesus turning water into wine that requires intervention?  Did they feel that Jesus was the ultimate enabler?

If I didn't post again today, their computers would sort out the algorithms and put up more appropriate ads, but it still gives me a chuckle in the morning when I first see them.

Biblical Superheros

First, if you haven't read this blog before, you probably should know I'm Jewish.  So, although I totally approve of Jesus (who I'm sure was a very nice Jewish boy) turning water into wine (guaranteeing he got invited to parties for the rest of his life), all of my biblical heroes are from what the goyim would call "The Old Testament" and which I lovingly call "Torah".  (Which is not to say that you guys can't get your heroes from whatever testaments you got.)

What I love about Jewish superheroes is how messed up they are.  Not too long ago by brother Dave complained that my Torah study group is too hard on the Patriarchs.  Too hard on them?  Look at these guys.  Let's use Abraham as an example.  His wife talks him into doing something that he knows is morally reprehensible .. sending Hagaar (whom Sarah talked Abraham into impregnating in the first place) and her son Ishmael off into the wilderness to die.  That's a pretty lousy way to treat your first born son.  As we all know, Abraham doesn't even argue when he thinks G-d wants him to kill the next one.  Yep, that's our dad, our group forefather Abraham.  Go team.

The thing is... well saints aren't very interesting.  Do you think we would study and revere some guy who never did anything questionable?  Where's the fun in that?  We know Abraham was a prophet of the holy one, sovereign of the universe.  Haagar went on to receive blessings as generous as Abraham did.  G-d takes care of his own.  Isaac didn't get the knife (although it was very tense there for about three days).

If we look at stammering, doubting, anger management issues Moses, who was the greatest prophet of all time, and liberated us not just from bondage in Egypt, but established a precedent for us to deliver ourselves and others in the future, we see that the really good ones usually come with some baggage.

As Jews, we like the baggage.  It reminds us of ourselves.  Who wants to sit around and talk about the tzaddik (saint) from down the street?  Yep, he/she is very holy and never screws up... does anyone want to go to the movies?  

So next time you hear us talking trash about our forefathers, remember: that is how we connect with them.  Of course we love and revere them.  Just like we love and revere our real life fathers and mothers.  It still doesn't mean we think they are always right, and more importantly... they are the ones who taught us to ask the hard questions.

Merlin

King Arthur doesn't have anything up on me.  When I was younger, I had a mentor named Merlin.  My Merlin was called a poet not a wizard, but really... both professions seem to have a lot to do with the magic of words.  My Merlin is one of the wisest men I have ever met.

Once I went to him and told him that I was engaged to a man who had money and loved me and I could spend my days reading and going to museums and concerts in NYC.  After I finished Merlin reached over and patted me on the knee and said, "It sounds easy.  Some of us don't get easy."  He was right.  I couldn't go through with it and since then my path has been somewhat difficult.

Merlin used to get up at four in the morning and grade papers.  I always thought this was freakishly devoted of him.  I knew that he lived in great physical pain, but I didn't realize how he dealt with it.  This morning I got up at four thirty and now, about three hours later, I have finished my morning's work of annotating a book I wrote for my niece.  Live and learn.

Geography of Dreams

In the past few weeks the geography of my dreams has changed again.  My dreams are no longer from the space I inhabit.  I feel a little bit like Mary Poppins, who only stays in one place until the direction of the wind changes, but with me, it would be the direction of my dreams.  Who is to say what it means?

Give It All You've Got

Here's a new song from Eighth Day.  Hopefully my little nieces and nephews will like it.

Just How White Am I?

I went out to do errands this morning and remembered that I hadn't eaten yet today.  (Yes, I know that a lot of other people are better at remembering to eat than I am.  This is one of the blessings of not living alone.  The boys always seem to think eating is a good idea.)  I stopped at a McDonalds (no, I'm not in Argentina or Israel so, no, it wasn't kosher).  As I was waiting for my food a black man (maybe he was an African American... I didn't ask) ordered his food.  By mistake, the young Latina handed him my meal.  Realizing the mistake he handed it back.  Realizing her mistake, the young lady added a few conciliatory fries and handed it to me. The man, who was well over six feet tall, bristled and said to me, "She gave you more fries than she gave me."

I diffused the situation by shrugging and saying, "Well, that's because I'm cuter."  He started to laugh and agreed that I was the cutest.  See... there are perks to being an old woman.

If he thinks that I was given more fries because I am white, I invite him to come and make me laugh the next time a cinder block goes through one of the windows of my synagogue.

I Think the Freshmen are Lying

In the LA Times this morning there is a piece on a survey done by UCLA of first year freshmen across the country.  It says "with 81% saying that being 'very well off financially' was essential or very important".  I totally believe that part.  In a lot of ways being wealthy is very helpful.  Here's the part I think they are lying about: "72% said they want to help others in difficulty."

The reality is that first year freshmen are adults.  I know that we, as a society, tend not to think of them that way, but from a historical view point they are old enough to rule their own kingdoms.  If 72% were actually helping others in difficulty, we'd be in a much better space societally.  Maybe when they heard the question they were thinking that if it wasn't difficult, or if it was dramatic, that they would be helpful.  Those old grandmothers that are homeless in our communities would appreciate a little undramatic help.  Think about it.   

Don't Tell Me I Look Good

I've been going through a rough stretch lately.  As a result of that my fibromyalgia is in full flare.  I don't really eat when I'm in full flare.  Ergo I lose weight.  That means that I'm thinnest when I am at the end of a long period of illness.  That's when the compliments come flowing like a river.  Let's think about this for a moment.  I am getting positive reinforcement for feeling like dreck.  Really?  Do you also find the dark circles attractive?  Or the fact that I start getting really pale if I have to sit in one place too long and the pain can get a good strong grip on me?  How about the passing out if I stand in line for too long?  Cute as a button?  Occasionally I get so worn out that I throw up in public.  People standing around usually don't act like that's very adorable.

Here's a tip: if I am plump and smiling and running around town and busy minding everyone else's business, that is when you should tell me how good I look.  People who tell me I look great when I'm really ill just annoy the hell out of me.

I'm Not Dead Yet

If you've been reading this blog, you  know that my father is quite unwell.  He's 87 and working on wrapping up his life.  Sometimes he's pretty out of it, which may have to do with his alzheimers or his pain pills, we don't really know.  One thing that's been pretty constant is that he hasn't gotten out of bed without being under duress since he broke his hip last June.  We did drag him to doctors appointments before they put him on Hospice.

Occasionally he decides he wants to go somewhere, but as soon as we start getting him out of bed, he changes his mind and then usually takes a nap instead.  Yesterday, however, I went into his room and he was getting out of bed.  I went and found Momo who rushed in to prevent a catastrophe.  Much to my amazement, dad got up into a wheeled desk chair (the kind programmers use for office hockey) and Momo wheeled him into the kitchen.  Dad supervised the making of a martini and then went back to bed to drink it.

I know that we're supposed to be helping dad feel comfortable about his approaching death, but I can't help but being overjoyed whenever he starts feeling a little better.  Let's just say that I'm not willing to put him on the cart early.  (Yuki and her Monte Python friends will get it.)

Infinite Cups of Tea

When my mother was still alive she would occasionally complain that instead of completing her own projects that she had wasted all of her time having tea with me.  I would agree that we both would've accomplished more if we had sat around talking less.

Now, however, I am constantly amazed by how many people ask me how I've acquired so much knowledge.  Usually I'm so stunned that they think I know a lot of things that I'm semi speechless.  I mostly stammer things at them that prove I am really an idiot.  But it has happened frequently enough now that I have to take it a little seriously.  I think there are two primary reasons that I know a lot of stuff.  I'm old.  As you age, you accumulate knowledge.  I think the other reason is that I sat around drinking infinite cups of tea with my mother.  She was a very smart cookie.  She paid attention and traveled widely and had wonderful adventures.

There may be people in my readership who think I'm playing fast and loose with the word "infinite".  After all, my mother is gone now and technically we could've counted how many cups we drank together.  But... even now when I'm sitting with an aromatic cuppa, I think of her and what she would've said about things that are happening around us.  In a way, the conversation continues through the generations.

So if you are lucky enough to have a mother who wants to sit down and have a nice cup with you, don't worry about not getting other things done.  It will pay off in the long run.

The Gentling of Memories

My son and his friends are really good at helping Papa with his limitations and memories.  If Papa wants to go swimming, I tend to remind him that he hasn't been out of bed since June.  The boys don't mention that, they just tell him that it's too cold to go today.

The other night he was in and out of our reality.  At one point he called Momo in to tell him that he thought the platoon had left them behind.  (Papa was in the Army in Europe during WWII.)  Momo told him that the guys hadn't left, that they were on the porch playing cards.  The guys were on the porch playing cards, and Papa could hear them laughing and playing.  What started out as a nightmare, was met with reassurance.

This morning Papi called me in and asked me if we could be happy here.  I told him that I thought we could. You could see him visibly relax.  It worries me what happens in the minds of people as they age who don't have people close to them to reassure them that everything is okay.

Rabbis and Cage Fighting

My father is dying.  He's ready, so I suppose he can go whenever he'd like at this point.  So there is a question about how long he will stay.

In the meantime, I have to figure out how to keep eating after he dies.  Of course, there is always the mooching option, but I feel like I am still a contributing member of society.  Unfortunately, since I'm quite erratically ill (I have fibromyalgia and it strikes when it will) I really can't do the kind of work that people typically do.  The ladies at the local bookstore have asked me to bring in my resume, but I know that I can't do work that involves moving books (they're heavy) and/or standing around a lot (I'll pass out).  My geek nephew, who has a record of gainfully employing me, thinks he can do that again.  Unfortunately, I know that geek work is high stress and I also know that with my FM that it will freaking take me down.

So, I have to figure out how to be useful enough to stay off the streets, while at the same time doing something that I like so it doesn't totally stress me out. Today's idea is running cage fights between Rabbis.  If you think your Rabbi can verbally take down my Rabbi, let's talk.

Outrageous Shoes

Yesterday was one of those not so great days for me.  I won't bore you with all the details, but I will tell you that it culminated with me suffering food poisoning in the bathroom of Nordstroms at the Grove.  Luckily I was with Kate, who managed to get me home.  Part of that managing was getting a Nordstrom employee to get a wheelchair and wheel me out to valet parking so she could pick me up.  While we were waiting for Kate to go get the car we hung out in the shoe department where it was warm.  I had just been very very sick in the bathroom and had spent a fair length of time on the cold tile floor, so I was shivering.  So this unlucky worker who had to deal with me and I sat looking at shoes for awhile.  Expensive shoes are pretty outrageous.  Platforms are a ridiculous height right now.

 
I asked the worker if she had ever tried any on.  She had and admitted that they were more comfortable than they look, thanks to the platform.  I hope she has better things to spend her money on than shoes she couldn't possibly walk in.

Here's the kind of thing I think of when I see shoes you shouldn't walk in:

The Chinese aristocracy was an excellent example of foot torture.  They thought it looked beautiful.  I think it's very similar to hobbling.  

So Kate calls and I get pushed out to the valet station.  It's a couple of minutes before she pulls up.  There is a man in a coat and hat who obviously manages the valet station.  A woman laden with Nordstorm's bags comes semi-limping up to get her car.  She knows the mans name and they exchange pleasantries.  Then she makes what I think of as an inexcusable faux pax: she starts to whine at him about how exhausted she is from shopping.  She says that her feet are killing her.  He points out that she could've worn flats.  She looks at her seven inch heels and concedes that she could have chosen a slightly less high shoe.  What?  You self torture and then have the nerve to complain to a man who has been standing in the cold all day (okay, it's LA but it's cold for us) working a job that can't possibly pay enough for him to afford a woman like you.

Now, I understand that there are people who have to maintain a certain image, but it might be better if they were more concerned about their servants.

Don't get me any Pradas, I would definitely break my ankles, even if I managed to not break my neck.

Moving In

It may seem odd, but after three years I'm finally moving in.  When we first moved in, it was with the idea that it would be temporary until my parents passed.  We moved into the house that met my mother's many specific requirements.  It's close to the beach, but not too close.  It's in a good neighborhood.  It is all on one  floor.  It has a deep bathtub.  I think you get the idea.  My stipulation was that it was within walking distance of a synagogue.

Mom's gone.  Dad is on hospice.  As we reviewed our options, we realized that we actually can stay here.

So now that I'm not looking at my space as temporary, I can settle in.  Katie has been here and been extra helpful in helping me get things done.  And we've been playing every day too, so I don't get behind on my New Year's resolution.

Box Forts

I've trying to decide if having a 22 year old is more like having 11 two year olds or more like having 2 eleven year olds.  The verdict is in: he's two 11 year olds.

I brought home a chair and a freezer, so we had plenty of building materials.  The only thing better than a box fort is a box fort on the Ninja Who Lives Here's bed.  Luckily the Ninja announced that he wouldn't be home for a few hours.

Momo's flag (so you'll recognize it when he conquers your house):

Now you can see why young men get married and have children.  If you're single you're just weird.  If you have kids, you turn into a great dad.

A Case For Gladiators

Yeah, I know, we aren't supposed to like gladiators.  It just encourages little kids to beat each other up, which is a bad thing.  I get it.  We're supposed to be a kinder, gentler nation.  We haven't exactly beaten any swords into plowshares, but if we can maintain this facade of political correctness in our daily lives, we can pretend we are above that.

Several years ago I was taking a Russian language class at a local university in Utah (where I was living at the time) and there were some young men starting a hockey team.  Other than their moms, they had no audience at their games.  I went home and told my niece, "We are going to be hockey fans now."  We went to all the home games (they were free and a mile from our house) and cheered on the guys from my Russian class.  The boys really appreciated it, especially since my niece was young and pretty.  I openly admit that I loved those games.  Seeing all of that violence and aggression un-pent was a release not only for the players but also for the people in the audience.   I don't like to think of it as encouraging violence so much, as encouraging happiness.  The guys I knew thought about hockey all the time.  They loved hockey.  They loved the violence.

Violence needs a better place in our society.  It is totally wrong to hurt someone who is not asking for it, but... if two hockey players/gladiators, want to beat the hell out of each other, let them.  Especially if the loser isn't a whiner.  If other people want to watch this for a release of their pent up aggression, let them.

There's a big debate right now about the wisdom of letting football players continue disabling each other.  Let's think about a couple of things.  If this freakishly huge man was not able to play football, how would he be able to rack up man points?  Is his alternative taking his rage to the streets?  Is that a good idea for us to force him to do that?

Here's my favorite argument for violent sports players growing up all right.  (This is stolen from Jewniverse):

Though you might have always pictured the rabbis of the Talmud as bearded old men, the texts tell another story. Rabbi Shimon Ben Lakish, often known as Resh Lakish, was originally a bandit and a gladiator, known for his amazing strength. In fact, Resh Lakish’s strength was instrumental in bringing him from banditry to Judaism.

Resolution

Usually I don't make resolutions.  My family likes to make predictions instead.  Then we put them in a drawer and see how bad we did at the end of the year.  Make no mistake... my family is terrible at predictions.  Actually, we're totally amusing in our prediction making, just none of them ever come true.  We're mostly alright about that.

This year I am making a bold resolution.  I'm just going to play.  If you want me to do anything this year, you are going to have to do it in a way that I think it's a game, or I'm not going to play.

The world didn't end in 2012, we didn't fall off the fiscal cliff (yet), and a giant asteroid doesn't seem to be aimed for the earth (at least this week).  Nothing worthy of stopping messing around and enjoying life happened, and based on that, I'm pretty sure that the world will work just fine if I just kick back and relax.

So if you want to come over for Scrabble or Mah Jongg or Risk or Monopoly, drop by.  I'm sure a pick up game can be arranged.