In my last post, I talked about visiting my sister at the end of August, and going to the cemetery in Owings Mills, northwest of Baltimore, to visit my parents' grave. We did that and a few other things, like having lunch at Lenny's, which I guess is where people go for Jewish-style deli food, now that Suburban House in Pikesville is gone. I last visited my sister in December, before our trip to New York. Someone at temple died when I was there, and I came back to Morgantown for the funeral, instead of going on to Harrisburg, Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, which was my ninetieth county to visit.
Summer has dragged and until today has been too hot. I don't see anyone other than Joe, and I don't feel close to people here in Morgantown. City Council has been trying, with a string of executives leaving, the pandemic, what to do about the bars in town, about WVU students gathering in parties, sure that they won't get sick, and the homeless encampment. Nothing has been easy, and I've snapped at people (usually in writing) rather than being diplomatic.
Today was the Gay Pride picnic, online. I was able to see part of it, but not participate without setting up a new identity and password. It said I could use Facebook, but that didn't work. I know that my friend Ash and others tried to make a go of this, and I'm grateful for that, but it didn't seem to work for me. Tomorrow, we're recording the service for Yom Kippur day. We've completed Rosh Hashana and the Yom Kippur evening service. It was like being on a movie set: mostly boring, getting things set up, a few retakes (not many) and a lot of time. I'm not good spending a lot of time on things. Joe has written a prayer book on his own, and done most of the singing. I love his hard work and dedication.
Nobody knows what will happen this fall and winter. It's possible that the current President will win the Electoral College again, by hook or crook. I'm one of those who thinks that would be the end of our country, at least as a democracy with any claim to morality. And I read today that some are predicting that the number of deaths through the winter will be twice as many as have died so far from the pandemic.
I have it good, and I'm depressed. Times must be much worse for everyone else. Part of me wants to run away from home, but there's no place to go. Another part of me thinks we all need (men of that persuasion) a giant jerk off party, online, of course, to lift our spirits. At seventy, I wouldn't be invited, anyway, and I'm married to clergy and an elected official. The second quarter of my life would like that.
Chanie Cohen Kirschner, the sister of my friend Benyamin Cohen, puts up a description of the Torah reading for the week. This week's is blessings and curses in Deuteronomy 26-29. When I tutored bar mitzvah kids, the twelve year olds wanted to read the curses, but Mrs. Kirschener suggests we all look for blessings, like noticing the parts of our bodies that work every morning, getting out in nature, and being grateful for our families. If I were a better person, I would stop complaining and be grateful for what I have, but that's unlikely to happen.
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