LIFE – Page 42 – Don't Gel Too Soon

ALL MY LIFE’S A CIRCLE, SUNRISE TO SUNDOWN…

These little girls are dancing at their cousin Judah’s Bar Mitzvah. It happened Saturday and was quite wonderful. At a service that morning Judah read the entire portion of the Torah – long and intricate – in Hebrew in a loud, confident voice. As he finished, the 12 and 13-year-old boys who are his friends stormed down the center aisle of the synagogue to congratulate him and shake his hand – recognizing and celebrating his new status.

Once again, I was struck by the value of religious observances to give our lives shape and meaning – and by how much this simple fact still astonishes me. The rite of passage — an adolescent reading from the Torah before the congregation, is fraught with meaning. It’s an acknowledgement of impending adulthood and, even more critically, of entry into the covenant among the Jewish people. I love it.

Each part of the day was tied to learning (another lesson on this journey – you don’t study, you “learn”. ) A talk by the young Bar Mitzvah on the Torah portion he had just read, talks during lunch and through the afternoon, by uncles, cousins and more. At the evening party, father and son spent close to an hour talking through the final part of a complicated set of writings. Throughout, we were reminded that great though parties and presents might be, what matters most is the move toward becoming, each day, a better and holier person.

As we listened to the teaching, father and son trading riffs on the material, a friend, sitting beside me, leaned over and said “You aren’t as far as you think from all this. Your great grandparents, and mine, were doing this. And now you’ve returned to it.” Blew me away.

This beautiful day, and the loving, welcoming family that had included us in their celebration, offered a great privilege. Together we welcomed a new member of tribe, celebrated his family and shared their pride. Dancing, singing and, with delight, watching everyone spinning through the music and happiness, we reminded ourselves, and one another, of a treasured heritage – one that this young man’s celebration joins as the next link in the chain.

A Woman of Valor

Lisa Goldberg, 54 years old, died this week of a brain aneurysm. When I heard, all I could think was “what a waste.” While it’s always sad when someone dies, especially to those who loved them, Lisa, quietly (there are so few photos of her available online that I had to use this candid) and with great dignity, contributed so much. President of the Charles H. Revson Foundation, she was responsible for funding many impressive programs. Some dealt with Jewish issues, some with urban social change, and, as in the one through which I met her, some dealt with issues relating to women.

Two years ago, she had the foresight to issue a planning grant to support the launch of the Women’s Media Center, a project for women in journalism whose founders include Gloria Steinem, Jane Fonda, Eve Ensler and Marlene Sanders among other great pioneers. In the time since, the Center has made great strides and become a force not only for women journalists but in the coverage of issues that matter to or involve women.

I didn’t know Lisa well – more admired her from afar. Her role at Revson was remarkable, and her leadership made difference in a great many lives. She was Best Woman at the wedding of a friend of mine — which I always thought was pretty cool. Beyond a few conversations about the Center or books we loved, we didn’t have that much contact.

One incident though, to me, is typical of her. I was “staffing” the early days of the Women’s Media Center and we were meeting at the Manhattan headquarters of the Revson Foundation. Some material had not been printed, there was a blizzard, and I barely had time to get to the offices much less to Kinko’s. Lisa’s staff helped me get everything printed, collated and bound without breaking a sweat – OR acting like they were doing me a favor (which they were…..) I sent Lisa a note letting her know how great they had been. Her response was typical of my perception of her. She thanked me for letting her know, told me she had forwarded my note to the young women who had helped me and added how high her own regard was for each of them. Again – quiet, unassuming and on the mark.

Of course there’s one other thing. When someone dies suddenly, there’s always a moment of terror. In this case, just as I always measure the deaths of older people by whether they were older or younger than my father was when he died, I was shocked to realize that Lisa was younger than I. It’s a credit to her, though, that this thought was fleeting and quickly banished. The loss of such a “woman of valor” is tough enough on its own.

ME AND MRS. MUIR

When I was one year old, Joseph L. Mankiewicz directed Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison (and a very young Natalie Wood) starred in a movie about a spirited widow who falls in love with the ghost of a sea captain. Set in the captain’s seaside cottage high on a bluff, it was wonderful – romantic but in a very modern way. His efforts to “haunt” her until she fled failed because she just didn’t scare easily — which made her very attractive to him (of course it didn’t hurt that she was Gene Tierney beautiful) and his gritty honesty and love of life enchanted her.
I can’t remember the first time I saw The Ghost and Mrs. Muir – it’s so much a part of me – and of memories of sitting up in the middle of the night, on the old sofabed in the room where the TV was, watching it with my sisters and a plate of pretzels and mustard — that it seems as much a part of me as they are. This morning at about 6, I woke up and found it just beginning on HBO.
What a joy for a Sunday morning! Fifty-nine years after this film was made, it’s more timely than many of the most modern of today; the woman so determined to be independent, the man who loves her loving her for that very quality. Of course there’s the rest – the almost disatrous marriage, the help the Captain gives her when she runs out of money – but basically they were two remarkable people on different sides of the veil – yet with more in common and more of a respect for one another than many film couples who are both alive.
So find it on HBO before the month is out or get ahold of it some other way. It’s a wonderful journey to a time and sense of place that valued love and respect between men and women (alive OR dead) and a perfect film to watch with someone you love – lover, husband, son or daughter. You’ll both be happy by the end of it — if a little weepy – and you’ll have so very much to talk about!

Sublime and Ridiculous — New Babies and the Golden Globes

Monday morning dear friends of ours named their new daughter. She had been born on Thursday, but in keeping with Orthodox tradition, no one knew her name until the service held during regular morning prayers. It’s a beautiful tradition – babies names have great thought behind them – connection to a deceased family member and when it’s possible to some kind of deeper meaning. Our friends’ other two kids have very meaningful and special names so we weren’t surprised that this little girl will also carry one. Born the week that the story of Moses in the bulrushes was read in the synagogue – she was named Batya – daughter of God — the name given in commentaries to the daughter of Pharaoh who pulled the infant from the Nile. Her courage, and the fact that she saved the man who would save the Jewish people, earned that for her.

I’d post her photo here but I write this for me and don’t like to turn friends and family into editorial fodder. Suffice it to say that this was an event of great joy – the parents two people whose contributions both as leaders and role models are legion; the big brother and sister, 4 and 2, smart, funny and sweet. Daddy often leads our services, Mom leads much of the study that goes on – and there’s a lot. In the middle of all the love, laughter and prayer I remembered again why I had chosen this complicated life, and was grateful.

Meanwhile, out there in the Outside World, I was amazed at the Golden Globes. Yeah I’m an awards junkie but this year the Globes were like COSTCO – crammed with every kind of person. It was exciting to see how different the winner’s roll call has become. Whether you looked at age, race or nationality, all sorts of people made it to the podium. Here are just some of the winners – and this doesn’t count people from countries other than the UK because I wasn’t sure enough about who was from where. Here goes: 8 WHO ARE NOT SO YOUNG: Warren Beatty, Helen Mirren, Maryl Streep, Martin Scorsese, Helen Moreen (again), Alec Baldwin, Bill Night, Jeremy Irons. 2 WHO ARE LATINO; America Herrera and SHOW Ugly Betty, 6 WHO ARE AFRICAN AMERICAN; Forest Whitaker, Jennifer Hudson, Eddie Murphy, Prince, Grays Anatomy executive producer Shanda Rimes and FILM Dream Girls, and 9 — yes 9 out of 26 major awards – to OUR COUSINS FROM THE UK: Helen Mirren, Sacha Baron Cohen, Helen Mirren again, Peter Morgan, Hugh Laurie, Bill Nighy, Jeremy Irons, Emily Blunt and SHOW: Elizabeth 1.

I also think the quality of the nominated and winning programs was pretty damn high. If it weren’t for reality shows you could almost make the claim that quality is beginning to become expectable on television – and if you count Project Runway you can kind of make the case for at least one of those as well. I’ve even had heavy-duty ‘DC politicos asking me "what are you watching these days?" right along with discussions of the Book Review. The bad is still really bad, of course, but maybe by the time young Batya grows up that will change too.

HATS OFF (???)

What is it about hats? When I was a young lefty-hippie I ran around in a big orange straw hat with a floppy brim. You can see me here with the late, amazing Spalding Gray.

Somehow though, when I entered the world of Orthodox Judaism, the hat seemed a surrender to authority and to what I saw as a kind of lower status. Men cover their heads to remind them of God. Women are mandated to cover their hair for reasons relating to the Orthodox concept of “modesty.”

Our “beit midrash” – a group of women who study Jewish concepts, ideas and texts together every Tuesday, has just spent several sessions talking about hair covering and its origins and interpretations.

The teacher for this topic, Laura Shaw Frank, is an effective,inspiring and gifted teacher. A long-time corporate lawyer, she left her practice to become a Jewish educator. Whatever sacrifices that has involved, it has been a gift to the communities of women (and often men AND women) who have benefited from her teaching.

What we learned, basically, is that 1] Women and the temptation they offer men are perceived as terribly dangerous. Our hair is seen by many sages as so erotic and stimulating that it must be covered to protect both men and women. Therefore modesty becomes our responsibility, to guarantee the virtue of our people. 2] In most parts of Orthodox Judaism only married women must cover their hair. I’m still confused about why it isn’t more dangerous for young, single girls to be “exposed” than old married ladies like me, but there your are. 3] WHEN women must cover their hair depends on where they happen to be. At home, with only family around, no need. The farther we get out into the world, the more rigid is the requirement to “cover up.”

Of course, Orthodox women observe this obligation in different ways. Some wear wigs that cover every hair; some scarves and hats that do the same. Some cover only the top portions of their hair – as this photo of Laura Frank illustrates. Others wear head covering only in Synagogue.

THIS IS ME, NOT LAURA FRANK: In any interpretation it’s discriminatory; we’re covering our heads to protect men. Clearly there’s considerable argument about why this has to happen at all, although almost no disagreement that it has to happen in some form. It’s another acceptance of discipline, but unlike many that I’ve written about here, this one is, to me, a manifestation of a deep distrust of women and the power we wield. I have believed for some time that it is our power to create life, to bring forth new human people, that led men to view us as dangerous and subversive; that somehow it’s based on a jealousy that they do not have this ultimate privilege that rests with us.

ALL those reasons and many many more discussed over these past weeks made me really reluctant to buy into the hat-wearing thing. Then I started thinking about touring Europe and carrying scarves to put over my head in cathedrals. I was willing to cover my head in the cathedrals but not in my own congregation! I decided that was disrespectful. I began wearing scarves tied around my head. They looked kind of cool – and I felt more appropriate.

I wore the scarves for over a year and then I got sick of having them slide around and cram my bangs against my face. I solved the problem. I bought a hat. A red hat. I felt a little bit like I was playing dress-up but it’s become easier.

Last week, at the last class taught by Ms. Frank, we had a hat sale. THAT was really like playing dress-up with your girlfriends! I bought a really pretty one. And although I wear hats whenever I’m in the sanctuary at the Synagogue, I am still bothered by the discrimination implied by the rules and definitions surrounding head coverings.

As we heard in class though, if you’re going to engage in the rules of head covering and modesty, at least know where they came from. I know now, and I’ll cover my head in shul even though I’m not happy with the reasons behind it. In my heart, I still believe that much of the behavior prescribed for women in the Torah emerges from a deep anxiety about the powers and mysteries that surround us — powers that offer us the privilege of pregnancy and birth, of an inviolate connection to our children and of wisdom shared — for centuries — among us. Fortunately, no hat is going to cover that!

LIVING ON THE EDGE – FUTURE TENSE

Some radical thoughts about the future from people who actually might know what they’re talking about: I have always been fascinated by the smart, smart people who live from the center to the edge of the cyberthinker world. Because I was present in LA for much of the early conference/thinker gatherings when they weren’t so exclusive and you could get a press pass if you knew your way around reporter vocabulary, I met many of them — often humbling but exhilarating experiences.

Over the years one of their most resourceful thinkers, John Brockman, has built a foundation called The Edge, where thinkers gather to "ask each other the questions they are asking themselves." The annual question founder Brockman has asked this community of thinkers (albeit more than 6 times more men than women) is "What Are Your Optimistic About? Why?" It’s worth a look. Some of those I know the most about, and respect, whose ideas might intrigue, include Whole Earth Catalogue publisher Stuart Brand, Microsoft pioneers Linda Stone and Nathan Myhrvold , Jaron Lanier, the man who named "virtual reality, Howard Gardner, the Harvard professor who has had such an impact on how we see learning differences and help the kids who have them, and one of the earliest Web thinkers, Esther Dyson.

Take a look; you might actually find a route to some optimism yourself! I was surprised by how much "good news" these people deliver. If we can just get some political leadership to follow up on it we’ll be better able to leverage these possibilities but either way, it’s nice to get some good news once in a while. Happy New Year.

Teach Your Children Well

Much of what I enjoy about other blogs, particularly "mommy" ones, is the sense of irony that is so different from my own sentimental view of parenthood. Brutally honest and often painful, they reveal wounds and issues I don’t think I could talk about on line. Loving mothers and beautiful writers, women like Liz at Mom 101, Mir at WouldaCouldaShoulda, Kristen at Motherhood Uncensored and Jenn at Mommy Needs Coffee are all gutsy beyond measure in their honesty. Mocha Momma Kelly, Liza from Lizawashere and BeenThere’s Cooper Munroe are just as honest but with a different tone – one more familiar to me. All perspectives are worthy, moving and wise.

Here’s one of the few times I really feel generational difference though. These bloggers are substantially younger than I am; I’m old enough to be the mother of most of them. I don’t feel that difference often, but today, with one of my boys gone already and the other leaving tomorrow, I just can’t get un-sugary.

The great gift of raising children is I am sure the most profound privilege life brings us. The pleasures are infinite. To my delighted surprise, they don’t stop when these tiny people emerge as full-blown adults, taking their places as productive, loving, principled men. The entire time they, and Josh’s girlfriend Amy, were here this week, was so great that I’m struck dumb with gratitude and love.

For an entire afternoon excavating six boxes of treasures from 20 boxes of childhood stuff — from broken Nintendos and the Jerry Garcia’s death issue of Newsweek to Double Dare sweatshirts and high school yearbooks, they worked, sorted, laughed, read aloud, complained, laughed some more, and got it all done despite my best efforts to help. I wish I could tell you what it felt like to see them laughing together over a first grade "book" Dan had written or once-treasured but minor value baseball cards, remembering the pleasures and joys of their lives.

Nobody’s life is perfect and our family certainly has had its share of pain, but there is a beautiful foundation that holds us up – draws us to one another and fills us with love. That’s corny. We have two sons who are funny and attractive and honorable and productive and considerate and who clearly love us. We are grateful. That’s corny too. I don’t know how to say that with any self-restraint or discipline – stylistic or otherwise.

I adore these young men even as I struggle to retain the distance they deserve (reasonably successful), welcome them when they want to be with us (easy as pie), shut up when they need to be someplace else( do my best), keep my mouth shut when I disagree (getting better all the time.) I am very proud of their self-reliance and accomplishments, their candor about obstacles in their lives, their incredible humor — they are both very funny, particularly when they are together — and their gentle, loving souls. They’ve accepted our newly religious lifetstyle with interest and respect. They are also very good to one another. I revel in their friendship, all the flying back and forth for concerts and birthdays, and great gifts they give one another.

In other words, I’m a corny, unoriginal mom. My sons have brought an unanticipated portion of joy and satisfaction, fun and admiration, adventure and idealism, into my life. And they love us. Stupid us. Despite all the mistakes and complications. I’d love to be able to be a bit ironic about it, to ditch what my kids call my "pink Cindy glasses" for a while just to see how I would sound, but it ain’t gonna happen. So I hope all my edgier colleagues will tolerate this gooey post and understand my inability, tonight, as the year winds down and this family visit winds with it, to say anything except "God I love my kids."

GOD, VIDEO GAMES AND THE END OF THE WORLD

Today on AlterNet – a wonderful aggregator of things political, there appeared the rather remarkable tale behind production of the video game Left Behind. Based on the phenomenally best-selling series of books set during the arrival of the End Times and the Rapture, it sounds like it’s pretty violent for a religious game.

I guess though that the entire story of the End Times is pretty grim. I remember thinking that back when I first heard of these books. It was around 7 years ago, when the first one came out. I wandered back to the galley on a cross country flight and found the flight attendant transfixed, deeply involved in the story. We spoke of it for some time; it meant a great deal to her.

I have always found apocalyptic stories riveting. Maybe it’s growing up in the "duck and cover" era but the idea of the world ending in fire seemed so plausible in those times* I was deeply affected by it, I think. If you had to go under your desk in 2nd or 3rd grade and put your crossed hands over your neck, you’d be scared too.

In addition to our air raid drills, there were books and movies like Alas, Babylon, On the Beach, and dozens of other nuclear disaster tales. They were full of small, horrible moments. I was pretty young but I remember, from Alas Babylon, mobs storming drugstores and looting them for medicine. Even now it is probably the image of nuclear war that sits most viscerally in my mind. My father had high blood pressure – and was lost without his hearing aid – and I remember fearing that a war would take away his medication and the hearing aid batteries that connected him to us.

The bombs always came from countries back then. Now of course all it takes is a suitcase and some under-funded port security to empower someone bent on destruction. It probably is no accident that the Left Behind books are so popular — there’s so much uncertainty and so much that’s frightening. Which brings us back to the game. Somehow it seems less acceptable to insert violence into a religious game, but as I become accustomed to the weekly reading of Torah portions I realize the bloody violence in the Bible itself. Even God was not immune – his anger was swift and deadly. The understanding of that somehow seems, at least partially, to justify the violence of apocalyptic literature.

So. No conclusions — just a riff for a Wednesday night. And the thought that if violence emerges so often in sacred works it’s an acknowledgment of those things in our natures that challenge us most… to keep our own rage, envy and hatred from popping out and contributing to chaos — in real life, on the pages of a book, or on an XBOX 360.

Stress (whining again — sorry)

Here we go again! Both boys are coming on Saturday, my brother-in-law and his family will be here UNTIL Saturday, we’d like the kids to meet our friends in this new neighborhood, I have tons of work, no presents for anyone yet, and between Rick and me we maybe sleep a combination of 8 hours a night. Not a good combination.

I’m not sure what’s doing it either. I think I have to find a way to chill and remember what’s important — which is for everyone to have a good time and for me not to stress too much about cooking, etc. But between our kosher life, the dearth of decent ways to eat out here and the cost of taking everyone out all the time we do need to eat more meals at home than we used to. So I need to plan. AND still do work. AND see friends before the Big Week begins.

AND do my share of the household maintenance, crooked contractor lawsuit documentation and other pleasures. (That photo on the left is the unsupported tile floor being taken up to be COMPLETELY redone including the addition of the necessary but OMITTED subfloor. Oh you have no idea……)

Even so I’m so excited to have the boys here in our "new" house — and the rest just has to settle down. Kitchen floors and extra people and unpredictability are gifts, not curses. I know that.

After all, the boys and Amy will be here, we’re all pretty healthy and still love each other. That’s a good holiday present right there….

Remarkable

As usual after the break of the Sabbath – TV and computer off from sundown to sundown, I’ve found something amazing as I reconnect. My friend Cooper Munroe, who with her partner did more to get resources to New Orleans than most governments — via a BLOG (!!) has posted, on her blog BEEN THERE, Steve Jobs’ graduation speech at Stanford. It’s best if you just see for yourself — just watch it. More tomorrow.