This year didn't totally suck, Friends from California visited us here in Morgantown: Jonathon and George from Long Beach, and Roy and Pat from Los Angeles, now living in Lompoc, in Santa Barbara County. We traveled to San Francisco and Los Angeles, where we saw our old crowds, and felt welcome, and just this week, we were in New York City for the first time in three years.We were in Memphis at Thanksgiving. On my own, I visited eleven of the twelve counties I planned to visit, four each in Ohio and Pennsylvania and three in Virginia. The largest and most interesting was Cuyahoga County, Ohio, including Cleveland. Many of the places I visited were economic dead zones, pretty towns with declining populations and abandoned business districts. I ran into a demonstration against abortion in DuBose, Pennsylvania, which infuriated me, and visited Bucyrus, in heinous troglodyte Jim Jordan's Ohio congressional district. I noted that it was warm in northern Pennsylvania in January and February, when it should have been cold. Virginia is pretty, Ohio has good libraries and Pennsylvania has extensive state parks. Most of these places are exclusively white and at least nominally Christian. I know people are in pain, but I still don't get voting for the awful Congresspeople they support. I have that problem here in West Virginia as well.
At the end of last year, Joe and I were talking about whether we wanted to stay in West Virginia. We are bicoastal people, at home in New York, Maryland and California. We have friends in big cities on both coasts, and we miss them. We have many homophobic people in our state legislature, and they showed it openly on several occasions this year, including an attempt to overturn Morgantown's non-discrimination ordinance. I told Joe I wanted to run for reelection to Morgantown's City Council just to prove it wasn't a fluke that I won. Ultimately he was offered and accepted a five-year contract to continue as rabbi at Tree of Life Congregation, so we are staying.
The congregation has been lovely to both of us and people have included us in their lives. Younger people have moved away and are difficult to replace. There were several funerals this year, and Joe spends a lot of his time visited hospitalized congregants. How long this congregation can continue is a question, but it's important that there is a liberal Jewish presence in this part of the world. Joe often speaks to non-Jewish groups, and I spoke to a high school class south of us about the Holocaust, and to pharmacy and counseling students at West Virginia University about "Jewish culture," even though I am unsure what that means.
My reelection turned out to be a joke. Two people originally challenged me. We had to turn in seventy-five signatures in our ward in January and February. I didn't get the help I had two years ago, although my friend Ash helped and neighbor Paul circulated petitions for me. One candidate turned in signatures in the last ten minutes of the last day. It turned out that many of his signatures were fraudulent, a fact discovered by a civic gadfly who thought there was something fishy about this guy, who had moved into the ward, to an apartment building owned by a real estate developer who has made his contempt for our Council clear, specifically to run against me. Why the City Clerk's office didn't catch the signatures that were the same as those on my petitions is a good question. Long story short, there was fraud, as far as I know unpunished, involving this candidate, who not coincidentally, had run for a statewide office as a Republican. The clerk's office and the Republican Party are up to their ears in this, but thanks to our Republican State Attorney, Mac Warner, from our county, nothing came of the investigation he supposedly conducted. The election was the end of April and for several weeks, it looked like I would be unopposed. Then the other challenger, on the Republican central committee in our county, signed up as a write-in. He ran a pathetic campaign, but still won 27% of the vote. I got 73%, but I was robbed of the challenge I wanted, someone with ideas I could debate and prove myself against.
Our big issue on Council was a proposal to annex a large unincorporated area of our County into Morgantown. This is important for us to maintain the vitality of the city, to increase housing options and to make these areas more livable by providing police and fire services, zoning and building requirements. We were met by a barrage of criticism from real estate developers, business owners and some homeowner associations. We had meetings where some people brought up good questions, which we were able to work on, but mostly we faced off against powerful interests who have no interest in the community other than making a fast buck. We were also personally attacked by a number of people, making me question who we might actually want in our city. I've changed my shopping habits to try to buy more from merchants in our city limits.
I look back at pictures of the victory of our "all-progressive" City Council when we were elected in 2017. We were happy and optimistic. That's gone now. Cracks have appeared over the issues of homelessness and drugs in Morgantown, and we have gotten no respect from the Chamber of Commerce (now called Morgantown Area Partnership), West Virginia University, and the Monongalia County Commission. We have five good people from our County in the State Legislature, but they are up against homo-haters, anti-abortion zealots, white supremacists, and people paid off by extractive industries from other parts of the state. It's tough. No knock against the new Councilors elected in 2019; I totally respect Dave Harshbarger and Zackery Cruze, and we are united on most issues. Still, I miss Ryan Wallace, who moved to Canada, where his wife has family. He was my closest friend on Council. And Mark Brazaitis, the Prophet, who was criticized relentlessly for his take on issues, didn't run again. He was right about everything. I have a year-and-a half to go on Council. I hope I can stand it.
I had a light bulb moment in New York Christmas night. People in West Virginia talk about how much they love this place: the beautiful scenery, the friendly people, the sense of place. It is pretty, away from the strip mines, the trash heaps and junk yards. Morgantown is a unique town, and there are many good people here. But I don't find most people here friendly, quite the opposite. So the moment came when we were out with family at Sammy's Roumanian Steak House, a famous Jewish spot on Christy Street on the Lower East Side. It's loud and crowded, in a basement, with raunchy jokes from the DJ/Comedian, Dani Luv. He asked where we were from, and he was shocked that we were Jewish from West Virginia. But I also knew that my great-grandfather ran a little store across the street from where Sammy's is, in the early part of the twentieth century, when my grandfather was a child. I felt a strong connection to that place. I feel that way in New York City generally, even though I never lived there. We visited often from Baltimore when I was a child, and my mother's parents, who lived in Queens, took me into Manhattan to see the sights. I get, more than I did before this trip, how people can feel attached to a place. It's an emotional and visceral thing.
In New York we stayed in Hell's Kitchen, once a rough neighborhood, and maybe still, to some extent. There were lots of gay clubs on the streets, and our non-luxury hotel was filled with people speaking foreign (to us) languages. We felt welcoming to them, and I tried to translate from Spanish for a couple who couldn't make themselves clear to the desk clerk. We walked quite a bit and took subways to most of our destinations. We weren't far from Times Square, absolutely mobbed at all hours. I like it, but I was sad that we are too old to enjoy the gay clubs, and that the people on the subway were almost all much younger than us. The stairs to the subways were daunting for me. Decades ago, I would have run up and down them; now I clutch the rail and walk slowly and carefully.
Joe's brother Henry, a musician, was in town from Louisiana and dragged us to Carnegie Hall to see Handel's "Messiah"with a small baroque orchestra and amazing soloists. While I might disagree with the theology, the music was glorious. I took Joe to see Pedro Almodóvar's stunning new movie "Pain and Glory," out of fear that it would never play in Morgantown. We walked around Greenwich Village that day. One day we visited the Guggenheim Museum, one of the last of Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpieces, on Fifth Avenue, to see an exhibit of Robert Mapplethorpe photos and those of people who came after and critiqued or imitated him, then we visited the Neue Gallerie, in a mansion down the street, to see German and Austrian Art, including Gustav Klimt's "Woman In Gold."
Just being in New York, seeing the 59th Street Bridge, the block where the album cover for Dylan's
"Freewheelin'" album was photographed, walking through Central Park and Times Square, places we could identify from movies and television, was great. We visited Joe's stepmom and went out with her a few times, and hung out with Joe's brother and sister, in from the South, and his half-brother, the notorious baseball collector and YouTube personality, Zack Hample. I saw two cousins of mine, one after forty-five years, because I made a connection with her adult grandchild on 23 and Me. A successful friend of Joe's from Harvard came into town from Long Island with his husband and treated us to lunch at the fancy Harvard Club. Our last night in New York, we took the subway to Brooklyn to participate in the lighting of a giant menorah by Chabad in the rain on the last night of Chanukka. We wanted to show solidarity after the attack on Jews in Monsey, Jersey City and in Brooklyn.
I noticed that the temperature was well above normal for the last week of the year in New York City. It's not just weather, it's climate change, and it's here. The day we left there was a forecast of flooding in many areas around the waterfronts.
Of course, the trip was exhausting and expensive. We drove, and paid to park the car for a week, in addition to the hotel. I came back with a cold, and we had boarded the cat, who has been clingy and neurotic since we picked her up.
So, if you asked how I was doing, I would say I'm depressed about how things are going politically, for me personally on the city council in Morgantown, but also with the corruption and hatred generated by our state's Republicans and by the current administration in Washington, I turned seventy in 2019, so I'm a year older than my father was when he died. Of course I worry about my health and that of everyone in my generation. I feel left out of contemporary culture, like my time has definitely come and gone. Joe has been stressed too, and while our relationship is strong, it's been strained this year by the pressures we both feel.
I'm trying to be hopeful for myself and our country. I hope to build some bridges politically with other progressives, and be more understanding of those who think differently. I want to continue to travel, and to strengthen my marriage, shunning those who think it is illegitimate. I say this every year: I want to lose fifteen pounds (I lost five this year) , and declutter my house. May this be the year. If you've read to here, thank you for letting me rant, and may 2020 and The Twenties, be a healthy and prosperous time for all of us.
Showing posts with label Chabad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chabad. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
Thursday, June 1, 2017
Shavuot 5777
Shavuot is a Biblical holiday, coming fifty days after Passover. It was originally a harvest holiday for wheat and barley in ancient Israel. The rabbis added the idea that we assembled at Mount Sinai and received the Torah on this date. Some congregations read the Book of Ruth, because much of it takes place during this harvest season. Today, the holiday is not often celebrated. Some have all-night study sessions, which come from the medieval period. Rabbi Joe said they couldn't do this until coffee was introduced to the Middle East. This year at Tree of Life here in Morgantown, we decided to do a dairy dinner (also traditional), a short service and study sessions, not all night, but maybe until ten or eleven. Although the holiday was Tuesday night and Wednesday, the Tree of Life observance will be Friday night. Conservative and Orthodox congregations outside Israel celebrate for two days.
Since my election to City Council in April, I've had meetings, dinners and Council events to attend, even though I will not be on the Council until July. The City Council met Tuesday night, and the Suncrest Neighborhood Association met at 7 P.M. Wednesday. I unhappily agreed to go to both events, since there was no local observance of Shavuot at those times. At the last minute, we were invited to a congregant's home for a holiday get-together Tuesday night. I was sorry I couldn't go.
The City Council event was a "Meeting of the Whole" where events and issues are discussed, questions asked, but no decisions made. All seven of the current councilors were there. Only two of them will be on the new council. I was the only one of the five newly-elected councilors to attend as an observer. I had prepared, in my head, something to say about Shavuot, then decided not to talk about it and write it as a blog post. I changed my mind when I saw that the three councilors who lost the election were wearing identical t-shirts with a map of West Virginia and the words "Born and Raised" on them. After the election, one had noted that none of the new City Councilors were born in West Virginia. During the public portion of the meeting, I improvised what I wanted to say on my blog. This is pretty much what I said:
" Tonight begins the Jewish holiday of Shavuot, which occurs fifty days after Passover. We will celebrate this holiday Friday night at Tree of Life. It is traditional to read the Book of Ruth on this holiday. Ruth was a Moabite, from present-day Jordan, married to a man from Bethlehem. When her husband died, leaving her childless, her mother-in-law, Naomi, encouraged her to go back to her family in Moab. Ruth famously said " I will go with you. Your people will be my people, and your God, my God." The two returned to Bethlehem, and Ruth eventually found a kinsman of her late husband who married her and provided an inheritor for the dead man. Ruth was accepted into society in Judea, and was an ancestor of King David.
" July 11 will mark five years since my spouse Joe Hample and I arrived in Morgantown. We were outsiders, a same-gender couple who had lived in California for decades and were raised in liberal East Coast families. Our marriage was not legal in West Virginia until the Fourth Circuit ruling three years ago. Joe was offered a two-year contract with Tree of Life Congregation here in Morgantown. We didn't know how this would work out, and there were doubters in the congregation as well. But we made friends and became involved in the community. After two years, Joe was offered a five-year contract at Tree of Life with the possibility of an extension, and we were able to buy a modest house in Suncrest.
"Last year, we visited our six favorite cities in the world: San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Washington, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Everywhere we went, people asked us 'Why are you still in West Virginia?' Maybe we didn't realize it until we were first asked, but we are here because West Virginia, and Morgantown in particular, is our home. This is where we live. We are grateful to the people here, that we have been accepted, as Ruth was in Bethlehem, as part of the community, and we have both found a place in this beautiful city. I am happy that I was elected to City Council. Maybe an outsider's point of view was what people were looking for this year, fresh ideas and a different way of looking at Morgantown." The councilor I am replacing sent me a note later thanking me for stepping up.
I had suggested to Joe that we look for a morning holiday service in Pittsburgh. Rodeph Shalom and Temple Sinai offered a joint service at Temple Sinai at 10 A.M. Wednesday and we decided to go. We left the house just after eight Wednesday morning and almost made it to the service on time. Sinai is on Forbes Avenue in Squirrel Hill. A beautiful Gothic-style stone mansion was preserved as part of the temple. The main sanctuary has clerestory abstract stained glass windows in a semi-circle, dark blue at the ends and bolder yellows and oranges in the middle, symbolizing the move from dawn to dusk. With the two congregations combined, there were about fifty people there, plus five rabbis and two women cantors, both with gorgeous voices. One of the rabbis, a young woman, was in school the first year of rabbi training with Joe in Jerusalem. Congregants took turns reading from The Book of Ruth in English, with the words projected on screens above the altar. We loved being observers of a traditional Reform service, and being a part of the community.
The congregation provided a dairy lunch of cheese blintzes, a spinach-tomato casserole, salad and fruit. We sat with one of the rabbis and some couples we had not met before. One of the women mentioned Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, so I asked her if she grew up in Baltimore, as I did, and where she went to high school? We played Jewish geography and it turned out that her sister was in my class in eighth and ninth grades at Sudbrook Junior High. I remembered her and her sister and I talked about people we both knew, quite a few, as it turned out.
We drove home and I crashed out for an hour and a half. The Chabad rabbi had invited us to their sanctuary for a service and meal Wednesday afternoon. Chabad is black-hat religious, and although we are different from them theologically, Zalman and Hindy, the couple who run Chabad here, have included us in events and we like them and admire what they do, even if we don't do it. They have a new baby, a girl, I think their fifth (I've lost track) and she was introduced to us, spitting up on her father. Rabbi Zalman placed a table in the middle of the room, put plastic plants on it to create a barrier, and the men stood on one side, women on the other. He chanted the ten commandments to us in Hebrew at lightning speed, left us alone for a brief silent memorial service, then we broke for dinner: blintzes, cheese casserole, ice cream, bagels and lox.
I spoke with another Chabad couple, he all in black with an untrimmed beard, she in a long skirt and a stylish wig. He is a cousin of Zalman's, and they had come to visit with their children. She told me they live in Long Beach, California. I told her that we had met a Chabad rabbi from Long Beach, when he came to Crescent City to certify that our local cheese factory was kosher. She asked if we meant Nechemiah Newman (we did!) and she said she is his niece. More "small world" stuff.
I had told Joe we had to leave Chabad early so I could make it to the 7 P.M. Suncrest Neighborhood Association meeting. Suncrest is the neighborhood I will be representing on City Council, and the school superintendent was to speak about the lately-vacated primary school, an issue. Sometime at Chabad, I realized that being with people on a Jewish holiday was more important than a meeting. I showed up anyway, late , after the superintendent had left. Still there were things I learned at the meeting, and I was greeted by many people, and had a chance to introduce myself. That felt good, too. It's all about balancing things. Yes, I'm a Libra.
Meanwhile, I'm preparing for our Friday night study session. At Osher Life-Long Learning, I just finished teaching a course for seniors called "The Great Hits of 1963." I agreed to teach a half-hour class Friday night focusing on Jewish songwriters and performers from that time. Stop by Tree of Life at 6:30 for dinner, service and learning. Rabbi Joe is cooking macaroni and cheese with broccoli.
I was worried our holiday wouldn't be meaningful, but it was. We were both able to worship and socialize with a larger Jewish community, and I feel, more than ever, that Joe and I are exactly where we should be.
Since my election to City Council in April, I've had meetings, dinners and Council events to attend, even though I will not be on the Council until July. The City Council met Tuesday night, and the Suncrest Neighborhood Association met at 7 P.M. Wednesday. I unhappily agreed to go to both events, since there was no local observance of Shavuot at those times. At the last minute, we were invited to a congregant's home for a holiday get-together Tuesday night. I was sorry I couldn't go.
The City Council event was a "Meeting of the Whole" where events and issues are discussed, questions asked, but no decisions made. All seven of the current councilors were there. Only two of them will be on the new council. I was the only one of the five newly-elected councilors to attend as an observer. I had prepared, in my head, something to say about Shavuot, then decided not to talk about it and write it as a blog post. I changed my mind when I saw that the three councilors who lost the election were wearing identical t-shirts with a map of West Virginia and the words "Born and Raised" on them. After the election, one had noted that none of the new City Councilors were born in West Virginia. During the public portion of the meeting, I improvised what I wanted to say on my blog. This is pretty much what I said:
" Tonight begins the Jewish holiday of Shavuot, which occurs fifty days after Passover. We will celebrate this holiday Friday night at Tree of Life. It is traditional to read the Book of Ruth on this holiday. Ruth was a Moabite, from present-day Jordan, married to a man from Bethlehem. When her husband died, leaving her childless, her mother-in-law, Naomi, encouraged her to go back to her family in Moab. Ruth famously said " I will go with you. Your people will be my people, and your God, my God." The two returned to Bethlehem, and Ruth eventually found a kinsman of her late husband who married her and provided an inheritor for the dead man. Ruth was accepted into society in Judea, and was an ancestor of King David.
" July 11 will mark five years since my spouse Joe Hample and I arrived in Morgantown. We were outsiders, a same-gender couple who had lived in California for decades and were raised in liberal East Coast families. Our marriage was not legal in West Virginia until the Fourth Circuit ruling three years ago. Joe was offered a two-year contract with Tree of Life Congregation here in Morgantown. We didn't know how this would work out, and there were doubters in the congregation as well. But we made friends and became involved in the community. After two years, Joe was offered a five-year contract at Tree of Life with the possibility of an extension, and we were able to buy a modest house in Suncrest.
"Last year, we visited our six favorite cities in the world: San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Washington, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Everywhere we went, people asked us 'Why are you still in West Virginia?' Maybe we didn't realize it until we were first asked, but we are here because West Virginia, and Morgantown in particular, is our home. This is where we live. We are grateful to the people here, that we have been accepted, as Ruth was in Bethlehem, as part of the community, and we have both found a place in this beautiful city. I am happy that I was elected to City Council. Maybe an outsider's point of view was what people were looking for this year, fresh ideas and a different way of looking at Morgantown." The councilor I am replacing sent me a note later thanking me for stepping up.
I had suggested to Joe that we look for a morning holiday service in Pittsburgh. Rodeph Shalom and Temple Sinai offered a joint service at Temple Sinai at 10 A.M. Wednesday and we decided to go. We left the house just after eight Wednesday morning and almost made it to the service on time. Sinai is on Forbes Avenue in Squirrel Hill. A beautiful Gothic-style stone mansion was preserved as part of the temple. The main sanctuary has clerestory abstract stained glass windows in a semi-circle, dark blue at the ends and bolder yellows and oranges in the middle, symbolizing the move from dawn to dusk. With the two congregations combined, there were about fifty people there, plus five rabbis and two women cantors, both with gorgeous voices. One of the rabbis, a young woman, was in school the first year of rabbi training with Joe in Jerusalem. Congregants took turns reading from The Book of Ruth in English, with the words projected on screens above the altar. We loved being observers of a traditional Reform service, and being a part of the community.
The congregation provided a dairy lunch of cheese blintzes, a spinach-tomato casserole, salad and fruit. We sat with one of the rabbis and some couples we had not met before. One of the women mentioned Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, so I asked her if she grew up in Baltimore, as I did, and where she went to high school? We played Jewish geography and it turned out that her sister was in my class in eighth and ninth grades at Sudbrook Junior High. I remembered her and her sister and I talked about people we both knew, quite a few, as it turned out.
We drove home and I crashed out for an hour and a half. The Chabad rabbi had invited us to their sanctuary for a service and meal Wednesday afternoon. Chabad is black-hat religious, and although we are different from them theologically, Zalman and Hindy, the couple who run Chabad here, have included us in events and we like them and admire what they do, even if we don't do it. They have a new baby, a girl, I think their fifth (I've lost track) and she was introduced to us, spitting up on her father. Rabbi Zalman placed a table in the middle of the room, put plastic plants on it to create a barrier, and the men stood on one side, women on the other. He chanted the ten commandments to us in Hebrew at lightning speed, left us alone for a brief silent memorial service, then we broke for dinner: blintzes, cheese casserole, ice cream, bagels and lox.
I spoke with another Chabad couple, he all in black with an untrimmed beard, she in a long skirt and a stylish wig. He is a cousin of Zalman's, and they had come to visit with their children. She told me they live in Long Beach, California. I told her that we had met a Chabad rabbi from Long Beach, when he came to Crescent City to certify that our local cheese factory was kosher. She asked if we meant Nechemiah Newman (we did!) and she said she is his niece. More "small world" stuff.
I had told Joe we had to leave Chabad early so I could make it to the 7 P.M. Suncrest Neighborhood Association meeting. Suncrest is the neighborhood I will be representing on City Council, and the school superintendent was to speak about the lately-vacated primary school, an issue. Sometime at Chabad, I realized that being with people on a Jewish holiday was more important than a meeting. I showed up anyway, late , after the superintendent had left. Still there were things I learned at the meeting, and I was greeted by many people, and had a chance to introduce myself. That felt good, too. It's all about balancing things. Yes, I'm a Libra.
Meanwhile, I'm preparing for our Friday night study session. At Osher Life-Long Learning, I just finished teaching a course for seniors called "The Great Hits of 1963." I agreed to teach a half-hour class Friday night focusing on Jewish songwriters and performers from that time. Stop by Tree of Life at 6:30 for dinner, service and learning. Rabbi Joe is cooking macaroni and cheese with broccoli.
I was worried our holiday wouldn't be meaningful, but it was. We were both able to worship and socialize with a larger Jewish community, and I feel, more than ever, that Joe and I are exactly where we should be.
Thursday, October 8, 2015
The Holidays and The Hospital
During the holidays this year, I had some medical issues. Just after Rosh Hashana, I went in for an echocardiogram. My cardiologist was afraid my heart wasn't functioning as it should. He called late the afternoon before Yom Kippur, and left a message that said. "Call me back. Don't worry, it's not urgent."
Our Yom Kippur services run all day, from a children's service at 9 A.M., through morning, afternoon, Yizkor (Memorial) and Ne'ilah (closing) service. Joe also runs a discussion group. There is a short break in the early afternoon. Joe and I came home and napped briefly. He was fasting from the night before- not even coffee. I don't try. He went back to temple, and I stayed for a light lunch and more sleep. Repentance and prayer are important, but if I can't concentrate for lack of food, it's not worth it. And I have medication to take with food in the morning.
While I was home, the cardiologist called again.
"Your heart muscle is weaker than three years ago. We need to go in and see if there is something we can fix. It doesn't have to be this week."
I said "Fine. Can we do it after November first? I'm teaching a class."
"I wouldn't wait that long."
"Oh. After October 6? I'm going to D.C. for that weekend."
"We shouldn't wait that long. I'll have the nurse call you."
I returned to services for Yizkor and Ne'ilah. I thought about my parents and the medical choices they made near the ends of their lives. They chose to live as fully as they could. When we came home, I told Joe what the doctor had said.
The nurse called Friday and we set it up for Tuesday, September 29. She said it would be outpatient. I should be fine for the weekend. I told her I was teaching a class starting Thursday and moderating a panel Thursday night.
I love Sukkot, although I understand that most Jews don't observe it. It comes only five days after Yom Kippur, after which people are depressed from all the repentance and fasting. But Sukkot is the time to relax, visit friends, eat outside in a little hut if one chooses to build one (we don't). Sukkot lasts seven or eight days and is followed by Simchat Torah, when we celebrate the annual cycle of Torah reading. In Reform Judaism, the first day is a religious holiday, and the eighth, Simchat Torah. The rest is relaxing.
Our temple was invited join the temple in Wheeling for a barbecue Sunday night, the 27th, as the holiday started. Joe and I were the only ones from Morgantown to make the 75 mile trip to Wheeling. Beth Jacowitz-Chottiner, the rabbi there, and her husband, Lee Chottiner, who once lived in Morgantown, have become our friends.
Monday I attended "Safe Zone" training, to learn to be a trainer for a program to combat anti-gay violence at WVU. At the end of the training, I opted not to become a trainer, because I don't have a presence at the university. I told Ben, the trainer, that I would be at Ruby Memorial on Tuesday, and couldn't swear I would lead the panel discussion I had arranged for Thursday night, part of Diversity Week at WVU. I barely managed to keep from crying.
Monday night, Zalman and Hindy Gurewitz, the couple who run the local Chabad, invited us for dinner in their sukkah. I'm not a big fan of Chabad, but Zalman and Hindy have been friendly to us and we've been guests at Chabad. In a town with so few Jews, I respect their outreach to the community. Joe had scheduled a meeting at temple, the second night of Sukkot being less important to Reform Jews. It was hard for me to relax knowing I was going to the hospital the next day. This was their night to have adults in the sukkah, as opposed to college students, their usual clientele.
Joe rescheduled an appointment with the dentist to take me to the hospital Tuesday. I'm going to skip the gory details. It was an ordeal. I had to make it explicit that I would sign no forms without Joe present, and that he was privy to any information. The whole procedure was delayed, and when it was done about 5:30, I had three new stents in my arteries. They kept me overnight, and I left Wednesday morning. I was well enough to go shopping in the evening, as long as Joe carried the packages. I was told not to lift more than five pounds.
I slept late and skipped my writing group Thursday, but I got out to teach my Beach Boys class at OLLI from 1 to 3. I covered 1964 and 1965, the Beach Boys' most successful years, and to my mind, the best years ever for Top 40 pop music. I crashed at home for a bit, then Joe and I went to WVU, for my panel for Diversity Week, "Love For All- Religion and the LGBT Community." I had five panelists, Joe and other clergy, including three Christians and a Buddhist. I was afraid no one would show, or that I would pass out from heart failure or exhaustion, but we had sixty people and I was fine. Many asked questions, on file cards which I had purchased earlier in the day, so that the askers could be anonymous, and I could filter out the nastiest questions. I asked all the questions I was given, and the panelists were brilliant in their answers. The take-away is that God loves everyone, that we have to be tolerant of other opinions, and that young LGBT people, confronted with hatred from their own family, need to, at some point, break away and assert their independence.
I rested up Friday so I could go to our Sukkot dinner at temple. I tried to limit what I ate there based on the guidelines I got in the hospital, so only one slice of pizza and one cookie.
The sun came out Saturday for the first time all week, so I walked for about forty-five minutes. That was the most I could do, and I felt a tightness in my chest even walking he small hills near here. We were invited to a dinner celebrating the fifth anniversary of a lovely couple from temple who found each other after their spouses died. The crowd was mostly department heads from WVU, current and retired, the food from a great Middle-Eastern restaurant at Morgantown Airport. A young woman from Indonesia played piano. She wore a white pleated skirt with black piano keys for stripes. Early on she played classical music, but later switched to Gershwin songs. I told her I could sing along, and I did, and got Joe and others to sing, too, especially when she played 'Embraceable You," the first dance at our wedding. The party was called for six to nine. I dragged Joe out at 9. I had been sitting quietly, exhausted, since about 8:15.
Reform Simchat Torah was Sunday night, but we celebrated it Sunday morning with the kids in Sunday School. We rolled out the Torah around the sanctuary, marched around with the scrolls while singing repurposed nursery rhymes ("Old MacDonald had a Torah", etc.). Monday, the last day of the festival season, I stayed home and finally got the rest I was supposed to have all week.
What I learned this holiday season is to be grateful. I'm grateful for my husband, who stayed with me when I needed him most, for the cardiologist who spotted a problem and, hopefully, fixed it. I'm grateful for life, for whatever health and time I have left. Yes, I believe in a God of mercy, who has saved my life several times. I am always conscious of God's watchfulness, even though I understand that life is finite. I'm sorry I missed my 48th high school class reunion in Baltimore and time with my sister and her family. I pushed myself a lot, but that would have been too much.
Things are still busy. This afternoon (October 8) I'm introducing my elderly students to "Pet Sounds" and "Smiley Smile. " That should be interesting.
Our Yom Kippur services run all day, from a children's service at 9 A.M., through morning, afternoon, Yizkor (Memorial) and Ne'ilah (closing) service. Joe also runs a discussion group. There is a short break in the early afternoon. Joe and I came home and napped briefly. He was fasting from the night before- not even coffee. I don't try. He went back to temple, and I stayed for a light lunch and more sleep. Repentance and prayer are important, but if I can't concentrate for lack of food, it's not worth it. And I have medication to take with food in the morning.
While I was home, the cardiologist called again.
"Your heart muscle is weaker than three years ago. We need to go in and see if there is something we can fix. It doesn't have to be this week."
I said "Fine. Can we do it after November first? I'm teaching a class."
"I wouldn't wait that long."
"Oh. After October 6? I'm going to D.C. for that weekend."
"We shouldn't wait that long. I'll have the nurse call you."
I returned to services for Yizkor and Ne'ilah. I thought about my parents and the medical choices they made near the ends of their lives. They chose to live as fully as they could. When we came home, I told Joe what the doctor had said.
The nurse called Friday and we set it up for Tuesday, September 29. She said it would be outpatient. I should be fine for the weekend. I told her I was teaching a class starting Thursday and moderating a panel Thursday night.
I love Sukkot, although I understand that most Jews don't observe it. It comes only five days after Yom Kippur, after which people are depressed from all the repentance and fasting. But Sukkot is the time to relax, visit friends, eat outside in a little hut if one chooses to build one (we don't). Sukkot lasts seven or eight days and is followed by Simchat Torah, when we celebrate the annual cycle of Torah reading. In Reform Judaism, the first day is a religious holiday, and the eighth, Simchat Torah. The rest is relaxing.
Our temple was invited join the temple in Wheeling for a barbecue Sunday night, the 27th, as the holiday started. Joe and I were the only ones from Morgantown to make the 75 mile trip to Wheeling. Beth Jacowitz-Chottiner, the rabbi there, and her husband, Lee Chottiner, who once lived in Morgantown, have become our friends.
Monday I attended "Safe Zone" training, to learn to be a trainer for a program to combat anti-gay violence at WVU. At the end of the training, I opted not to become a trainer, because I don't have a presence at the university. I told Ben, the trainer, that I would be at Ruby Memorial on Tuesday, and couldn't swear I would lead the panel discussion I had arranged for Thursday night, part of Diversity Week at WVU. I barely managed to keep from crying.
Monday night, Zalman and Hindy Gurewitz, the couple who run the local Chabad, invited us for dinner in their sukkah. I'm not a big fan of Chabad, but Zalman and Hindy have been friendly to us and we've been guests at Chabad. In a town with so few Jews, I respect their outreach to the community. Joe had scheduled a meeting at temple, the second night of Sukkot being less important to Reform Jews. It was hard for me to relax knowing I was going to the hospital the next day. This was their night to have adults in the sukkah, as opposed to college students, their usual clientele.
Joe rescheduled an appointment with the dentist to take me to the hospital Tuesday. I'm going to skip the gory details. It was an ordeal. I had to make it explicit that I would sign no forms without Joe present, and that he was privy to any information. The whole procedure was delayed, and when it was done about 5:30, I had three new stents in my arteries. They kept me overnight, and I left Wednesday morning. I was well enough to go shopping in the evening, as long as Joe carried the packages. I was told not to lift more than five pounds.
I slept late and skipped my writing group Thursday, but I got out to teach my Beach Boys class at OLLI from 1 to 3. I covered 1964 and 1965, the Beach Boys' most successful years, and to my mind, the best years ever for Top 40 pop music. I crashed at home for a bit, then Joe and I went to WVU, for my panel for Diversity Week, "Love For All- Religion and the LGBT Community." I had five panelists, Joe and other clergy, including three Christians and a Buddhist. I was afraid no one would show, or that I would pass out from heart failure or exhaustion, but we had sixty people and I was fine. Many asked questions, on file cards which I had purchased earlier in the day, so that the askers could be anonymous, and I could filter out the nastiest questions. I asked all the questions I was given, and the panelists were brilliant in their answers. The take-away is that God loves everyone, that we have to be tolerant of other opinions, and that young LGBT people, confronted with hatred from their own family, need to, at some point, break away and assert their independence.
I rested up Friday so I could go to our Sukkot dinner at temple. I tried to limit what I ate there based on the guidelines I got in the hospital, so only one slice of pizza and one cookie.
The sun came out Saturday for the first time all week, so I walked for about forty-five minutes. That was the most I could do, and I felt a tightness in my chest even walking he small hills near here. We were invited to a dinner celebrating the fifth anniversary of a lovely couple from temple who found each other after their spouses died. The crowd was mostly department heads from WVU, current and retired, the food from a great Middle-Eastern restaurant at Morgantown Airport. A young woman from Indonesia played piano. She wore a white pleated skirt with black piano keys for stripes. Early on she played classical music, but later switched to Gershwin songs. I told her I could sing along, and I did, and got Joe and others to sing, too, especially when she played 'Embraceable You," the first dance at our wedding. The party was called for six to nine. I dragged Joe out at 9. I had been sitting quietly, exhausted, since about 8:15.
Reform Simchat Torah was Sunday night, but we celebrated it Sunday morning with the kids in Sunday School. We rolled out the Torah around the sanctuary, marched around with the scrolls while singing repurposed nursery rhymes ("Old MacDonald had a Torah", etc.). Monday, the last day of the festival season, I stayed home and finally got the rest I was supposed to have all week.
What I learned this holiday season is to be grateful. I'm grateful for my husband, who stayed with me when I needed him most, for the cardiologist who spotted a problem and, hopefully, fixed it. I'm grateful for life, for whatever health and time I have left. Yes, I believe in a God of mercy, who has saved my life several times. I am always conscious of God's watchfulness, even though I understand that life is finite. I'm sorry I missed my 48th high school class reunion in Baltimore and time with my sister and her family. I pushed myself a lot, but that would have been too much.
Things are still busy. This afternoon (October 8) I'm introducing my elderly students to "Pet Sounds" and "Smiley Smile. " That should be interesting.
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| Sunday night September 27 in Wheeling with Rabbi Joe Hample, Rabbi Beth Jacowitz-Chottiner and Lee Chottiner |
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| Friday evening October 2 in the sukkah at Tree of Life |
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| Sunday, October 4 at Simchat Torah services |
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