Showing posts with label Purim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Purim. Show all posts

Monday, March 6, 2023

Purim 5783

 Tonight (March 6, 2023) is the beginning of Purim, a raucous holiday celebrating the victory of the Jews of Persia over Haman, an evil minister in the king's court who sought to annihilate the Jews. There may not be a lot of history to the story, but like most Bible stories, there are lessons for today. 5783 is the year on the Jewish calendar.

In the story, King Ahasuerus banishes his queen, Vashti, because she refused to dance for his friends at a drunken banquet. When I was a child, Vashti was evil, but today, she is a feminist icon. To replace her, the king holds a beauty contest, and chooses Esther, ward of her uncle, Mordechai, and a Jew. All of this is highly unlikely, and the names Esther and Mordechai are too close for comfort to Persian Goddess and God, Astarte and Marduk. Still, it's a holiday for fun,  near Mardi Gras in spirit and time of year.

My mother died on  Purim morning twenty years ago. That year, Purim was March 18. She was in hospice care in suburban Baltimore. I had been in town for her 75th birthday in February, and I suffered a heart attack at her house on February 9. The next day, her birthday, she spent much of the day visiting me in cardiac intensive care at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore. I  was supposed to go back to Los Angeles on the 11th, but I was delayed until the 22nd. I had to allow the airline to look at my medical records, because I had a special "short-term" fare.

I didn't expect, ever, to live this long, and the mystical side of me thinks that my Mom has somehow worked things from the next world to keep me going. I have lots of health problems, but my heart is still ticking along, better than the hearts of most men my age.

This August, I will be the age my mom was when she was diagnosed with the cancer that took her life. She lived fifteen months after that, which would make me that age in December 2024. Not that far away.

I told students last year during my campaign for U.S. Congress that this campaign was my "culmination project," something students work on to graduate. I meant at the time that I would be ready to leave this world after that. I've been wrong about predicting my imminent demise before, so maybe I'll just have to reinvent myself.

My husband, Rabbi Joe has been talking about moving away from here. He said "We have nothing left to prove here." That's true, and the current political climate in West Virginia makes me think it might be wise to leave. Joe, who was born in Buffalo, only wants live somewhere warm where we know people. Still, I've made friends throughout West Virginia in my run for Congress, and I feel some obligation to those people, and to the Democratic state delegates from Morgantown and other activists who are working to change the culture here. 

Seventy-three has been hard on me physically and emotionally, and I've had to step back from political and social events just from a lack of strength. I'm doing a little better now. I don't expect to be where I was twenty years ago, endurance-wise.

I have started back at the gym, and on days when I can, I run a bit in the neighborhood. Some days I can't do it. I'd like to get back on my bike, which I haven't been on since May when I had an accident and injured my leg. I'm also back to writing letters to the editor and resuming my travels to nearby cities.

We're supposed to go to Chabad, the Orthodox group in town, for dinner in the late afternoon tomorrow, and we had one of Joe's parody plays last Saturday night, where he rewrites some old Broadway musical to (almost) fit the story of Purim. This year it was a parody of The Pajama Game. It's both brilliant and crazy, but always fun. And we visited a nursing home today to sing Purim songs, visit with the people there and have hamantaschen, the triangular cookies associated with Purim. I used to dread seeing people in such bad shape, but now I enjoy talking to them, and don't see much difference between them and me. 

In the Purim story, we are saved from the evil Haman by Esther and Mordechai, and we celebrate our victory over our enemies. But in The Washington Post this past Sunday, there was a review of a book about diaries people kept in The Netherlands during World War II, most famously Anne Frank, but also diaries kept by Nazi leaders and other regular citizens. There is a picture of Jews in Amsterdam, the men in suits and the women in dresses, being led to a central point in Amsterdam, where they will be shipped to concentration camps and murdered. The people in the picture look shockingly modern, and this was only six years before I was born. We don't always win out over our enemies. 

In another part of the paper was an article about The Proud Boys, who are being investigated by the Federal Courts for organizing the January 6 events, probably egged on by the former President. One of the star witnesses has a last name that also belongs to cousins from the Italian side of my family. I looked up his picture to see if he could possibly be related, and sure enough, he's short, dark and bald-headed. If he is in that family, I wonder if his White supremacist friends know he had a Jewish great-grandmother. 

I'm just ranting now, so I'll stop. I wish everyone a happy and festive Purim, a reminder that we have to fight for our right to be who we really are, and confront the bigots who want to erase us.

Saturday, March 23, 2019

Purim 5779

I've been rereading this blog. I guess I'm my favorite writer. I noticed that my non-travel posts are about being depressed by the weather and the political scene here in West Virginia. When I saw a therapist at Kaiser-Permanente in Los Angeles about fifteen years ago, I glanced at the diagnosis sheet and it said "Depression-Chronic, Moderate." On the one hand, I don't have a lot to complain about, compared to people I know here whose parents beat them or were drug addicts, or they had no clothes or shoes for school. I didn't have any of that, and I live comfortably now, with love from my husband and my cat.

We are in spring now, but in Morgantown it's not really warm. Temperatures dropped below freezing last night and there was a snow shower as we left temple last night after services.

Wednesday night and Thursday, March 20 and 21 was the Jewish holiday of Purim, a time to celebrate the deliverance of the Jews of Persia. It's a Mardi Gras-like holiday, with costumes and alcohol. There are plays based on the Book of Esther, the Jewish queen of Persia. Esther becomes queen after winning a beauty contest held when the former queen, Vashti, refuses to dance for the drunken king and his friends. The story has changed since I was a child. Vashti used to be considered a bad person, but she's become a feminist hero now. Rabbi Joe, my husband and the rabbi at Tree of Life Congregation here in Morgantown, writes a parody of a Broadway musical every year for Purim. This year, it was "Man of LaMancha" reimagined as "Man of LaShushan," Shushan being the city where "Esther" takes place. In Vashti's song, the king "Looks like a pig and smells of beer."  Esther, who wins the beauty contest to become queen, the character all the little girls used to want to be, is reimagined in Joe's play. She sings (to the tune of "Aldonza") :

"Won't you look at me, look at me,
God, won't you look at me!
Hardly the nice Jewish girl you suppose!
Shrinking from lust
And in fear of starvation,
A child in a temptress's clothes!

If you feel that you see me not quite at my holiday best,
Read the part I don't mention, your scripture reveals all the rest!"

I'm sure this flew right past all the kids, and most of the adults. Definitely not the traditional interpretation of Esther's state of mind, but there is enough hatred and fear in the story to scare anyone. That's why it's usually read in Hebrew, so people won't understand it.

It didn't help that our Purim party at Tree of Life, the Saturday night before the actual holiday, was the day after the shootings at the two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand. I didn't feel like celebrating a story where people are murdered. Or maybe it was a chance to see a modern version of the kind of hatred expressed in Esther, and to find a way to triumph over it.

I was touched by the response to the shooting in New Zealand. I saw videos of school kids performing  haka, a traditional Maori dance. I've learned that it's performed at rugby games, but all the kids know it, and stood by their Muslim friends and neighbors in solidarity. The Prime Minister, Jacinda Arderen, announced an immediate ban on the types of weapons used in the shooting, with apparently little or no political opposition.  I wish we could have a government like that here.

Purim is the yahrzeit, the anniversary, of my mother's death on the Jewish calendar. At Tree of Life, I say Kaddish, the memorial prayer, for her on the Friday before the holiday. I also like to go to Chabad, the Orthodox group in town, where they have a service on the holiday, and I can say the prayer. This year, however, the Muslim Students Association at West Virginia University held a vigil for Christchurch outdoors at the school on the evening of Purim, starting with a Muslim prayer service at sunset. A half dozen or so students spoke, all beautifully, as well as a couple from Tree of Life in Pittsburgh, expressing solidarity with the frightened Muslim students, and Imam Kip and Rabbi Joe. Two of us City Councilors and two State Delegates spoke briefly. The point that I tried to make when I spoke is that everyone in Morgantown is part of the city, whether one is from here or not, planning to stay, or leaving after graduation. We are one city. My inspiration was from the students in New Zealand.

Joe and I have talked about leaving here. His contract is up July 1, as is my City Council term. I wanted to run again. Our Council has done good work this last two years, and we finally have an all-progressive group of Delegates to the State Legislature. Many bad things happened in the Legislature this year, so much hatred expressed. Everyone says "This isn't who we are", but hateful people keep getting reelected, only, thankfully, not in Morgantown. Maybe that hatred is exactly representative of people in other parts of our state.

At the synagogue, many of the people who did the work of keeping things going have moved away for careers or just to a bigger city. The older people, not much older than I am, don't always have the energy to get things done. Many of them travel frequently or leave town for the winter months. I don't know how long this congregation can keep going, but they have supported Joe and me the last seven years. It's Joe they want to see from their hospital bed, Joe they want to do a funeral or a wedding for a family member.

Ryan Wallace, one of the Councilors I am closest to, announced last night that he and his wife Christine are moving to her hometown of Toronto this summer. This is a blow to me personally, because I have been close to them, but also to Morgantown generally. They are fitness buffs, and are responsible for our Health and Wellness Commission, started late last year.

It's common for West Virginia people to say "Should I stay or should I go?" I don't blame Ryan and Christine for leaving. They are young and have children, and Christine has parents in Toronto.We have made our community here, and I hope we will be able to stay.

At The vigil at WVU 3/20/19

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Most of February

I returned from my trip to Maryland and Virginia on Monday, February 6, to more cold and snow, and lots more meetings and demonstrations. Although I was well over my illness, whatever it was, I was sleeping through the night, with two naps, one after breakfast and one late afternoon. I went back to the new gym I joined just before I get sick, where I am a hot young guy, instead of being the oldest one, by at least twenty years, and more often, forty years, at my old gym. I've gone to two weeks of line dancing classes, much easier than the Israeli dance I attended for twenty-five years in L.A., but for all my scoffing, just about what I can do for an hour, now.

My world was shocked by the February 14 shootings at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, in Parkland, Florida. That particular suburb didn't exist when I left South Florida in 1984, but I recognized from the names that the students were a generation or two later version of the people I knew from my time in Miami: Cubans, Jews, African-Americans, whose parents had become affluent and educated, and moved north and west to a new, "safer" suburb, away from Miami. Maybe because I recognized these kids more than those from other shootings, or because I have cousins who grew up near there and are now still in their twenties, I took this hard. And these kids, smart and media savvy, were able to express their grief and desire for change to the world in way that previous survivors could not. I posted about this on my own social media and spoke at length about the need to ban assault weapons nationally at our February 20 Morgantown City Council meeting. Our Morgantown Interfaith Association held a vigil on the 21st downtown. One candidate for state legislature was there, and I attended from City Council. I've checked Twitter, and besides my relentless tweeting, and retweeting students from Stoneman Douglas, what we got from our politicians was "thoughts and prayers" from our Republican congressman and our Senator, who also thanked "first responders." Not even that much from our Democratic Senator, nor from any of our state Delegates or Senators. Meanwhile, in Charleston, our state capital, Republicans, who have a majority in both houses, are busy passing bills to demand that colleges allow concealed carry of weapons on campus,  and that weapons be allowed in cars at any business. More on these horrible people later.

Interfaith vigil against gun violence Thursday, February 22. This is less than half of the group
The President spoke with some of the students, one of whom saw on his note card the expression "I hear you," meaning it was in his script to say that. At the end of the week, when funerals were held for the first students, the Jewish ones, who by custom have to be buried as soon as possible, the President was on the golf course at Mar-A-Lago. Students and parents spent the week trolling Florida Governor Rick Scott and Senator Marco Rubio, who refused to say he would no longer accept campaign money from the NRA. Conservative pundits on television and in the news have suggested that the students who spoke out were actors, or that the whole thing was the fault of the FBI, who knew about the shooter, or that we need better mental health screening, or raise the age when someone can purchase an assault weapon. Of course, the administration would love to end Medicaid, and has tried to cut off the Affordable Care Act's expansion of Medicaid, which provides much of the mental health and drug addiction benefits to the poor.

I remember the shootings at the club in Orlando, the church in Texas, the outdoor concert in Las Vegas (where the shooter was over sixty) and now, in Parkland. What these all have in common is that the shooters had an arsenal of legally-acquired weapons, including AR-15-style weapons. If one is not frightened of the NRA or receiving buckets of campaign cash from them, it is obvious that these weapons have no civilian use and should be banned. I find it hard to believe that America's children should be "collateral damage" so that everyone with a grudge can have an assault weapon. I can't imagine that we have such cowards in both parties running our government.

Meanwhile, our representatives in Charleston proposed a one percent raise for teachers, the first in ten years, while increasing premiums for health insurance and retirement, which would wipe out even that pitiful raise. Additionally, they introduced bills to insist that the teachers' unions get written permission each year to deduct union dues from teachers' salaries, and to end awarding full-time union leaders, all teachers, retirement credit in the system. They voted to lower standards for new teachers, since they can't fill many positions with qualified applicants, and they want home-schooled kids to not need a GED to get a state-sponsored college scholarship. There was a bill this year to mandate an elective course in the Bible, and to allow school districts to write their own science standards. Read into that what you will.

Teachers went to Charleston to protest, and they were effectively locked out by the House Speaker adjourning the session at 11 A.M. until 6 P.M., when visitors would not be allowed. The net result of this is that teachers in all fifty-five counties in this state walked off the job. Thanks to Messrs. Mason and Dixon, and to former President Lincoln, West Virginia is oddly-shaped. Many people in the state could easily commute to teaching jobs in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Maryland or Virginia, where the pay is lots better than in West Virginia. Instead of dealing with these pay and benefit disparities, the Legislature has voted this session, not to pass a budget, which is their main job, but to ban Medicaid from paying for abortions, to create an unnecessary extra level of courts, to allow clergy to not perform weddings they object to (they already can do that) and to give a tax break to out-of-state corporate interests.

The teachers in every county in the state walked off the job Thursday and Friday, forcing the schools to announce in advance that they would be closed, and as of Saturday night, it looks like they won't be back Monday, either. Arrangements were made for social service agencies to provide food for kids and families at lunch, and people were asked to drop off food and supplies at food pantries throughout the state. It's a sad commentary that many kids in West Virginia only get a decent meal at school. It rained last Thursday, the 22nd, in the morning, although this week the weather has been freakishly warm, breaking records Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. With all the rain we've had, there have been flood watches and warnings. I went Thursday afternoon for less than an hour during a break in the rain to stand with teachers from North Elementary, near my house. Parents brought shipments of coffee and donuts from a nearby store while I was there, and a woman introduced me to her developmentally disabled son Anthony, who recognized and hugged his former teachers, held a sign to passing motorists, and screamed with pleasure when a car honked at us. His mother told me that Anthony, at three, could not stand up, and she was told that he would never get much past the mental stage of an infant. She took him to kindergarten at North Elementary, where the teachers worked with him, and although she no longer lives in our county, she wanted to come out to support the teachers at North. While our state votes, or in the last election, voted Republican, people I've spoken to support the teachers.
Teachers picketing near Morgantown's North Elementary, Thursday afternoon, 2/22

We had a marathon five-hour City Council meeting Tuesday, February 21, where we picked six people from the ten we interviewed for our new Health and Wellness Commission. In the regular meeting, later, we passed, 6-1, an ordinance to give a tax break to businesses who spend at least five million dollars on new development or improvements to an existing business downtown or in an area that becomes annexed to the city. I had my doubts, which I expressed to the Mayor and City Manager at a meeting Monday. Joe and I had been out the previous Thursday with our gay social group, only five of us that night, at the south end of downtown We started with drinks at a hotel, then adjourned to an Indian restaurant with a buffet. Lots of people were there for the yummy food, but I couldn't help notice the empty storefronts and surface parking lots at that end of downtown. Despite my misgivings about the bill, because I'm not in favor of tax breaks for big business, generally, I voted for it, in the hope that something will give our downtown a boost. Two people spoke against the bill, one a friend , and one of our Councilors, with good reason, voted against it. I hope that we can now do something for smaller businesses in the area, which was one of the objections, and that, ultimately, new development will provide jobs and an increased tax base for our city. We didn't adjourn until 10:30.

Wednesday dawned with a temperature of 65 F. (average low 24 F. for the date) and it was supposed to get warmer. Joe had office hours and a work-related dinner date, so I decided to go to Pittsburgh for a "big city fix." I picked five historic places and figured on lunch somewhere, a stop at a CD store I know about in the Strip District, just north of downtown, and a bookstore, possibly the one in Squirrel Hill. I thought I might hit a movie if it rained, and stay past dinner. I visited numbers 121 to 125 on Wikipedia's list of historic places, bought three CDs from my list of the best-selling albums of the first decade of this century (by Faith Hill, Lenny Kravitz and No Doubt) and visited a book store on Carson Street in Pittsburgh's South Side Flats. More on that later.

Of course, it started to rain not far into Pennsylvania. It's about 75 miles from our house, at the north end of Morgantown, to Central Pittsburgh, and although it hit 72 early in my stay in the city, the rain came on and off, and by the time I left at 3:30, it had dropped to 47 F. I started downtown at the Pittsburgh Renaissance District, the twentieth century rebuild of the historic center of the city at the point where the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers meet  to form the Ohio. I got there close to noon and paid $4.00 to park on the street for an hour. I took a few pictures, saw a demonstration by high school students at Market Square, protesting the shootings in Florida, and lunched at a chain restaurant that serves noodle dishes.

Pittsburgh Renaissance Historic District, Wednesday, 2/21

Gateway Center, Pittsburgh, one of the entrances

Flooding along the Monongahela River in Point Park

Students holding a vigil, Market Square, Pittsburgh, 2/21. The glass building is the headquarters of Pittsburgh Plate Glass


From there, I headed north to the CD store (which also has records and comic books) then just east to "Reymer Brothers Candy Company," a 1906 building, now used as offices. The candy company no longer exists.
Reymer Candy Company, 1425 Forbes Avenue, Bluff District

I crossed the Monongahela River from there, to Carson Street, once an old working class neighborhood at the foot of a bluff and subject to flooding, now gentrifying. It looks like Morgantown's High Street if it were three miles long instead of two blocks.
I visited the Pittsburgh Mercantile Company Store, near the east end of Carson Street, built 1906-7, and originally, according to Wikipedia, a "company store" for a steel company. It has lately been converted into apartments. The steel company no longer exists.

2600 East Carson St., South Side Flats, Pittsburgh


Cruising down Carson Street, I saw a banner advertising a book store and decided to drop in. A sign on the door said "Closed Saturday for Sabbath." I was surprised, as this was never a Jewish part of town. The guy who greeted me was as pale and Nordic looking as anyone I'd ever met,  adding to the mystery, but when he called for the owner to answer a question, a young man in a kippa and tzitzit (ritual fringes) came over. We talked a bit, and he told me he had a non-Jewish last name (which I don't recall now) because he was Jewish only because his mother's mother was Jewish. He was a waiter before he opened the bookstore, but he quit because he had to work Friday night, the busiest night at a restaurant. He had only lately decided to become a religious Jew. I told him I was married to the Reform rabbi in Morgantown, a man. He just shrugged that off. I didn't see anything I was desperate for in the store, so I went on to my fourth historic place, Pittsburgh Terminal and Warehouse Company, built between 1904 and 1906 to link rail and barge traffic through the city. It is now used as offices.
333-400 East Carson Street, South Side Flats

I had one last place to visit, Prospect School, above Southside Flats in Mt. Washington. I turned on the GPS on my phone to get to this place, as the streets in that neighborhood wind around a bit. The school was built in 1931 and now has been converted into apartments.
Former school, Mt. Washington

It was close to 3:30, raining and cold. I figured out how to get to the Interstate home, got stuck in traffic leaving Pittsburgh (the downside of the "big city fix," )but made it home just after five, in time to feed the cat, and sleep for an hour before fixing dinner for myself. It was 60 F. and not raining in Morgantown.

It is now Sunday night, still too warm, raining, with flood watches and warnings throughout the state. The teachers will be off again tomorrow, while trying to get some kind of respect from the Governor and Legislature.

Joe and I did our bit Saturday, attending Empty Bowls, a charity event for food pantries and soup kitchens, where you get soup from restaurants, bread, home-made cookies and a bowl to take home. Almost everyone in Morgantown seems to show up at Empty Bowls.


At Empty Bowls, with Danielle Walker, candidate for WV Delegate in our district

Joe and I at home showing off our new bowls


We have a City Council meeting Tuesday, and Wednesday night, the end of the month, is the Jewish holiday of Purim, also, on the Jewish calendar, the fifteenth anniversary of my mother's death. It's a joyous holiday, but not for me. I keep busy for a retired person in a small town.

In my online world, people are angry that national newspapers are still looking to interview Trump supporters in "The Heartland" while ignoring the importance of a state-wide teacher strike in West Virginia, and television news covers C-PAC, which has become, you should pardon me, an Evangelical Klan rally. I've reminded people that "THE REVOLUTION WILL NOT BE TELEVISED."