It's 5782!

 My last post was about our trip to Los Angeles. I haven't posted about San Francisco and my next trip, to Fluvanna and Essex Counties in Virginia, with a stop on the way back to visit with my sister in Greenbelt, Maryland. Maybe I'll post those soon...ish.

Meantime, time flies, and it's a new Jewish year. COVID-19 has come roaring back, especially in West Virginia, where Jim Justice, our Republican governor, won't put up any mask restrictions because he's afraid he'll start another Civil War. Monongalia County, where we live, has fared relatively well, mostly because people here are not afraid of getting vaccinated. Still, our two hospitals are nearly full, because people in the surrounding areas come here for medical care, and the counties around us have more "vaccine hesitancy." Still, at West Virginia University, the heart of Morgantown, there are no real restrictions, despite the students and faculty both overwhelmingly voting for a vaccine mandate. As I'm writing this, there is a football game, and there are few restrictions on attending, only a suggestion that unvaccinated people wear a mask. 

But I digress. Rabbi Joe wrote sermons for Tree of Life this summer about how great it was to be together after having pre-recorded services last year. Then, as the number of new cases rose, the synagogue committee, which includes several doctors, voted to cancel in-person services. Instead we did it over Zoom, with only the rabbi, a few singers, a tech person, and someone to watch the door, which is now locked.  I was asked to read haftarah on Rosh Hashana, and chant Torah on Yom Kippur. The haftarah is about Hannah asking for a son and pledging him to the temple. Her son Samuel is raised by the temple priest. The Torah on Yom Kippur is from Deuteronomy 29 and 30: "This day I call heaven and earth to witness regarding you: life and death I have set before you, blessing and curse. Choose life-so that you and your children may live." (Deuteronomy 30:19, translation in Mishkan Hanefesh, copyright 2015, Central Conference of American Rabbis). Heavy stuff. I couldn't help but think that getting a vaccine is choosing life, and not getting it is choosing death.

Meanwhile, I haven't been entirely well since our return from California. I had a little bronchial thing going, and I was concerned because we had been in crowds. I went to an urgent care center here on August 6, and they referred me to a central location for a COVID test. It was negative, so I wasn't too worried. I went back September 9, after Rosh Hashana, because I could barely speak and I was feeling pain in my chest from the congestion, where before it had only been in my throat and upper respiratory tract. They gave me a strong antibiotic and another COVID test, also negative, and suggested I see an ear, nose and throat doctor. I went the next day, and he looked in my nose and throat, and while not going "Ewww!," I could tell he was thinking that. He extended the antibiotic, and gave me a nasal antihistamine.  I wasn't sure I would make it to Yom Kippur.

I did drag myself out, having food with my antibiotic in the morning, and coming home for a snack and a nap in the afternoon, before returning for the Memorial (Yizkor) service, where I sang a Hebrew version of the 23rd Psalm, and the ending service. We finished after 7 P.M.  I managed my singing and chanting without difficulty. 

After more than a week on a strong antibiotic, I'm feeling better. The blood tests, which were to check my immune system, were normal except for the one that shows if you have allergies. That one was off the chart. No surprise.

Yom Kippur always makes me think of life and death. Each year, as I get older, I wonder if this is my last year. I've lived longer than my father and both of his parents. I don't get sick often, but when I do, it's bad, with a long recovery. I try to "choose life" by exercising, keeping my weight down, and getting enough sleep, and I'm grateful for my negative COVID tests. Just in today's paper, they announced that ant-COVID vaccination boosters are a good idea for older people. I'll be first in line when they announce it. 

I wish everyone a healthy 5782.

Spring in Morgantown

We've had exceptionally warm weather here in Morgantown, setting a record high of 83 this past Saturday. I saw an article claiming that this was because of the "aerosol layer" being destroyed. I admit to ignorance of this, but I know everything here bloomed a month early, and while, as a former resident of Los Angeles, I appreciate warm dry weather, I know it's not right for North Central West Virginia in March. It's pretty, but ominous.

That's the macro. The micro is the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. We have had twenty-some cases in our county, most of them in one nursing home, a mile and a half from my house, and one wing of that home, among residents and staff. We can still go out for a walk or a run, buy groceries and gas. This week we picked up carry-out at two different restaurants, a treat given the bland stuff I usually cook, and the limited cooking skills of both of us. People at the grocery store tend to keep their distance, and with WVU closed, many people are gone altogether, but a few came up close to me to pick out fruit in the produce section Sunday. I should have said "back off," but I guess I'm too polite. The check-out person Sunday told me that the older workers were told to stay home, that if we brought our own bags, no store employee could touch them. I got home and wiped down the car door handles, shift knob and steering wheel with disinfectant, then washed my hands carefully. It's hard to say what is enough.

We. told our cleaning woman not to come last week, but paid her on PayPal, which she says everyone does. I usually leave a check for her, being a last-century kind of guy. I totally understand how privileged Joe and I are. Just today, I scrubbed the bathroom sink and cleaned the toilet. I know millions of people do this every day, but neither Joe nor I have done that in years.

I get lots of invites to dance routines, yoga practice, or stretching exercises online, as well as religious services and political talks. I've done one City Council meeting on Zoom, and we have another tomorrow. Some of us want to find a way to help people in Morgantown who have lost work or are threatened with eviction. Joe has done services, Torah study and a class online, and tonight he is speaking on a virtual panel to students at WVU. Other than those, neither of us has much interest in participating in online groups. Joe works nearly as much as he always has, and I spend more time on Facebook and Twitter, or looking up random things (music, cities) as my ADD directs me.

. For now, at least, things are stable here We went out and walked the trail along the Monongahela River north of town. lots of people were out as well Saturday, but the restroom was locked and the water fountain wrapped. Playgrounds in town are taped off, warning children and adults to stay away.

I read about New York (my spiritual home) and Miami, New Orleans and Los Angeles, all places I have lived, and my heart goes out to the people in those cities. I pray for the victims of the disease, the healthcare workers, the clerks in the grocery and drugstores and the post office, and the politicians, who I hope will show some wisdom. I hope the business people and the ultraconservatives I see online will have some compassion, and note that we are all in this together.

Saturday in Pittsburgh

I heard it was an exciting game between Iowa State and West Virginia in Morgantown last Saturday, November 4, starting at 3 P.M. The weather was just warm enough, and it was sunny. I don't go to football games generally, and a game in town means one is stuck in the house at least an hour before and an hour after the game.

I could have gone to Torah study at Tree of Life in the morning. That's not something I typically do either. In my original retirement plan, I would go to Pittsburgh, preferably with my spouse, the rabbi at Tree of Life, to have lunch in a restaurant, find some historic spots, see amovie that will never play here in Morgantown, and if it's not Saturday, go to the Jewish bookstore and gift shop in Squirrel Hill. We haven't done that in a few months. We've been through Pittsburgh's airport, on our way to and from Canada this past summer, and I went with Joe to two weddings he officiated at the Heinz Museum in the Strip District, even singing at one of them.

I left at nine, before Joe left for Torah study, and went searching for my five historic sites, Numbers 115-119 on Wikipedia's list of National Register Sites in Pittsburgh. First up, in the South Shore neighborhood (the south shore of the Monongahela River, which also flows through Morgantown), there is the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Rail Station, and a separate listing for the  Railroad Complex. These were a major rail hub into the 1960s, but are now, combined, part of Station Square shopping complex. There are also movie theaters, and a hotel. The rail station is now a fancy restaurant.

From there, I headed to the "Pittsburgh Central Downtown Historic District," just across the river from Station Square. I parked at a meter on the street, as I did at several stops in the city. They have machines where you enter your license plate number and then pay for the amount of time you want. Downtown meters were $4.00 per hour; in other places they were $1.00 for an hour. Much of the area dates from the turn of the last century, imposing stone and brick structures, including the William Penn Hotel. I was surprised to find some mid-nineteenth century row houses still standing, and the more impressive Alcoa Aluminum building, coated in... aluminum, and now being converted into apartments, and U.S. Steel's steel tower, with its fine coating of rust, a deliberate design feature, now used as offices of University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.  I walked around a few blocks of downtown, and lamented that Kauffman's Department Store, most recently a branch of Macy's, is closed.

My next stop was the former Pittsburgh Brass Manufacturing Company, in the Strip District, the part of town that sits at the bottom of a the cliff along the Allegheny River. This was an industrial area, now full of shops, restaurants, and offices and new hotels. The Brass Company, probably from about 1900, is now a law office.

It was already after noon when I was in the Strip District. I turned on the GPS on my cell phone (something I only recently learned how to do) to head over the hill to Oakland, the hipster neighborhood around the University of Pittsburgh, once the archrival of West Virginia in sports, before West Virginia switched leagues to the Big 12, a more lucrative league, with teams from Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Iowa. The weather had warmed up, and kids were out playing frisbee. It was my goal to do my pictures and get to Whole Foods in Shadyside no later than 1 P.M. for lunch.That didn't happen. I got my pic of the Pittsburgh Athletic Association Building, then stopped for a sandwich at a Starbuck's across the street in one of the dorm buildings from Pitt, filled with young people ignoring each other in favor of their laptops.

I found my way to Bakery Square, a development of offices in an old bakery building and stores in the surrounding area, including a gym, a chain bakery and lunch place, a café, and a few other places to shop. Nothing that interesting, but there are rumors that the developer wants to build in Morgantown, so I wanted to check it out.

My plan was to leave at three, and get home in the middle of the WVU game, when the streets are deserted, and in time for a nap before dinner. I knew how to get to Squirrel Hill from Bakery Square. Classic Lines is an independent book store on Forbes Avenue. I would rather pay full price there than go to a chain bookstore and get a discount. Morgantown does not (yet) have an independent bookstore downtown. I don't buy enough books to worry about a discount, anyway. My sister had sent me sixty-eight dollars for my birthday and told me to spend it on something I wanted. The books cost me eighty, but that was close enough. I stopped in at the coffeehouse next door to the book store (also filled with geeky young people bent over laptops) and bought a fancy cookie as my meter was running out. It was an easy hour-and-a half drive home, eighty miles from Squirrel Hill. I did most of what I planned to do in the time I had allotted for myself.

WVU won the football game, and Joe and I decided to stay in for the evening.


Here are my pics:

Interior, Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Rail Station, now a restaurant

Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Rail Station, 1898

Part of the railroad complex, containing a shopping mall

Lobby of the William Penn Hotel, downtown Pittsburgh

Views from Mellon Square, downtown Pittsburgh:

19th century houses, Strawberry Way, Downtown Pittsburgh

                                      

Pittsburgh Brass Manufacturing Company Building, Strip District

Pittsburgh Athletic Association, 1911

                                        

Forbes Avenue between Murray and Shady, Squirrel Hill, my favorite Pittsburgh neighborhood

My new books

Unity, Part 2

I got into town from the Democratic convention in Charleston just about 6:30 P.M. Saturday, and met Joe at a restaurant downtown. Services at Tree of Life for Shavuot, Jewish Pentecost, were called for 7:30. Not many people showed up, and Joe was home by 10:30. The plan was to have study sessions and blintzes (traditional, but I don't know why) until midnight. I was exhausted and left early.

We awoke Sunday to the horrible news about Pulse in Orlando. There was a meeting in the afternoon of an interfaith group started to counteract gun violence. It then moved into combating Islamophobia and supporting Syrian refugees.  I don't always go, but I wanted to discuss what had happened in Orlando. I thought the group would draft a statement. The group from the local Islamic Center didn't show up, and not many people came. We all expressed support for the LGBT community, agreed not to condemn Islam generally for this crime, and said we would work for gun control. Eve Faulkes had designed headscarves for women and t-shirts for men with a message of peace, inclusion, and a plea to accept refugees. Joe bought t-shirts and Eve photographed us with a statement on cardboard from Rabbi Michael Lerner.

Facebook was awash with chatter about Orlando. There was a push from WVU people to have something, a ceremony of some kind. It was scheduled for Thursday night. Because so many people on Facebook were angry that there was silence from clergy (not entirely true), I checked with Joe, and he was willing to speak at the event. He is  probably the only openly gay clergy in the area. Word came back that they wouldn't need him. The event was well-attended, despite horrible storms just a few hours earlier, with some roads blocked by fallen trees. The speakers they had: a Vice President at WVU in charge of the Division of Diversity and Inclusion, the mayor of Morgantown, a Muslim student involved in student government, and a self-identified transgender Latina woman, an honors student in the Women's and Gender Studies Department.They all spoke well. The weather cleared and we were able to go outside to light candles at the end. I knew many of the people there. I know Morgantown has a large population of involved and caring people. It was for them that I ran for office.

Meanwhile, the local newspaper had run an anti-Muslim column from columnist Cal Thomas on Tuesday. The Islamic Association of West Virginia put out a strongly pro-gay statement, which I saw on Facebook. I called the paper and asked if they would run that and they said they would not without a local angle. So I wrote a letter critical of Thomas and excerpted the Islamic Association's post. Meanwhile friends of friends on Facebook whined about their "Second Amendment rights"; others went on about "Islamic extremism." A minister in California said it was too bad more pedophiles weren't killed, and a Republican from Texas said it wasn't really a gay bar. We have a lot of work to do.

A week after the tragedy, Morgantown was scheduled to have its first Gay Pride celebration, at 123 Pleasant, a hipster locale downtown. This being not West Hollywood, it was indoors in the evening, with a panel discussion called "Activism, Advocacy and Our Rights" organized by a friend from the LGBT Equity Commission at WVU. She asked me to be on the panel, and I agreed. I didn't have much to say, but I felt bad for one panelist, a gay male high school student who said he rarely goes to school because he is harassed. Apparently no one, including his parents, will stand up for him. This made me feel powerless. There was a poetry reading and some acoustic music. A band was coming in later. Joe was with me, and we left about ten.. That's as late as we stay out. I knew some of the people there, some gay and some straight allies, and I met a group of transgender women and heard their stories. That is a hard life.

Despite all of the negativity in this country, there is a core of people who care about where we are heading. They grieve with us for LGBT lives lost, and for Latino men and women out for a night of fun, who were gunned down or held hostage. They know blaming Islam is not a solution, that Republicans have never been in any way concerned about the LGBT community, even as they now try to paint Islam as the enemy of gay people. Banning assault weapons would be a useful start. I'm glad for all of that, yet we really need to look at why there are so many deeply disturbed men (almost always men) who fetishize weapons, have a deep-seated hatred of Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton, applaud deaths of gay people even as they ask us to condemn Islam.

Our Shavuot holiday was a bust, and I am just coming out of a week of depression over the events that weekend. I'm feeling more hopeful now. Maybe we can make a coalition of people of all races and faiths to see the United States as a unified country, one where we all care for each other and respect diversity in unity.

Here is what I wrote to the paper. They edited it; this is the original:

It's hard to tell when I'm not dealing well with the world, but there are tell-tale signs. Like when I don't want to go out of the house, or I spend time on Facebook arguing with people I don't know when I should be doing something else, or if someone asks how I am and I don't want to answer.

That's how it's been this week, and I know it is about the shooting in Orlando. I feel close to those people. I am no longer them; I would never be at a bar at two A.M., but there was a time when I would. I think of younger gays and lesbians as my children. Many of them have parents who support and nurture them. Even today, though, parents inflict pain and grief on their LGBT children. I'll take them in as mine. I feel like it was my children mowed down by a killer in Orlando.

Young people I know locally, college and just post-college, are mostly what we now call "allies," not gay, but supportive. Many of them still have friends in the little towns where they are from, and some of those friends have posted about their "Second Amendment Rights" on social media even before expressing sympathy to the gay community and our friends, who are in mourning. I tried to tell them to respond to our grief now, and talk about guns later. They mostly don't get it.

In your paper Tuesday, June 14, Cal Thomas expresses no sympathy for gay and lesbian people, for the general population of Orlando, or for the Latino population, mostly Puerto Rican in that bar from what I have read. He never has expressed any sympathy for LGBT people nor, for that matter, for people of color. Instead, he launches into yet another attack on President Obama for calling for control of assault weapons, and he says "No more mosques should be built in the U.S. until we gain an upper hand against radical Islamists." I'm sure Thomas thinks he is a great patriot, but that is clearly unconstitutional and hateful. He has the right to say it, but the Dominion-Post has the right not to print something that demonizes a whole religious group.

I got comfort from this, from the Islamic Association of West Virginia:

"We will continue to spread our belief in the tolerance, kindness and peace we have found within Islam, and we will stand with and support the LGBTQ community during this difficult time.We will prove that love conquers hate."

I would love to see that sort of statement, perhaps from other religious groups, on your pages more frequently. 

And here is the full statement from the Islamic Association of West Virginia.

Statement on the Mass Shooting in Orlando

Early this morning, as we woke to eat the suhoor meal before the beginning of our Ramadan fast, we received news of a horrifying shooting at Pulse, a gay bar and nightclub in Orlando, Florida, that has claimed the lives of fifty people, and seriously injured fifty more. It is the deadliest mass shooting in American history. Based on the information presently available, the perpetrator was twenty-nine year old Omar Mir Seddique Mateen, who was very likely motivated by Islamic extremism.
The Islamic Association of West Virginia strongly and unequivocally condemns this attack. We denounce acts of extreme cruelty and violence without reservation, and we offer our sincere condolences and heartfelt sympathy to the victims and their loved ones. We pray for the recovery of those injured, for the comfort of grieving friends and families, and for the healing and safety of LGBTQ communities the world over.
While the perpetrator claimed to be Muslim, he did not practice any form of Islam that we know. Our Islam vehemently forbids these heinous crimes, and the killing of innocents violates countless sacred laws and traditions of our religion. Furthermore, as Americans, we strongly believe that LGBTQ rights are an integral part of American civil rights and, more broadly, basic human rights. People of all gender identities and sexual orientations are entitled to dignity and respect, and we fully support their right to live, work and celebrate openly and without fear.
We will continue to spread our belief in the tolerance, kindness and peace we have found within Islam, and we will stand with and support the LGBTQ community during this difficult time. We will prove that love conquers hate.

Dr. Fryson, of WVU, speaking at the memorial event June 16

Candle lighting and traditional bell ringing outdoors at WVu's event, June 16

The panel discussion at 123 Pleasant, June 19

 

The Campaign So Far

We have a few weeks left in the campaign for Delegate in the 51st District. I've met lots of new people - the local activists, humanists, and Bernie Sanders supporters. I have a new Morgantown crowd.

 Before the campaign, the advice I got from political activists was "Don't run." I haven't raised a lot of money and  I didn't spend most of what friends have sent on the theory that if I win the primary, I will need cash to counter the corporate money the Republicans will have.

I've been living figuratively in the "South Park Bubble," the liberal, largely Jewish, activist neighborhood of big old houses and brick streets south of downtown and walking distance to West Virginia University's Downtown Campus.

I attended a Democratic chicken lunch, cooked by volunteers, in a church auditorium in Granville, an industrial town just across the Mon river from Morgantown. I was in a suit, because I was at a bar mitzvah at Tree of Life earlier.  All of us candidates spoke (we were only supposed to introduce ourselves). The people, coal miners and blue collar workers, mostly older and, with very few exceptions, American-born Caucasians. were in T-shirts and jeans. One of the other candidates said he wouldn't show up in a suit for an event like this one. A speaker for Jim Justice, who switched parties to run for Governor as a Democrat, and is the wealthiest man in West Virginia, pointed out that his candidate was not an "Obama Democrat." I felt out of place.

I spoke this week at "Mountaineers For Progress." They had a forum for candidates with questions the moderator was to ask us. We had two minutes to answer. Eight of us showed up- seven of the eight Democratic candidates and one Republican, a WVU student. We had the questions in advance. I didn't write anything down, but I knew what I wanted to say. That event went well. We stuck to issues (except for a two-minute introduction). Most of us Democrats were on the same page and the forty people in the audience were receptive.

Yesterday there was an "after hours" meeting at a local law office, sponsored by The Morgantown Chamber of Commerce. I had my regulation blue blazer on. There was food: shrimp things, beef on little crusty pieces of bread and "firecracker chicken meatballs." I stuck to fruit and vegetables and one cookie. The men at this event were in suits; the women were well-coiffed and with designer purses, in dresses and heels. Nothing at all like the Democratic lunch Saturday. Candidates were specifically invited. The judge candidates (whose positions will be decided in the primary) were all there. I got the impression that most of the people were avoiding me, but then I saw that the other candidates were also shunned. We spoke to each other, and I met a young woman and man who work for Sprint, out of place in Sprint uniform shirts and jeans. The Sprint woman was the only African-American in the room.

Someone told me he couldn't vote for me in the primary because he is a Republican. A pretty young woman who is finishing law school talked about working on Republican Shelley Moore Capito's Senate campaign. I met the contractor building Ruby Memorial Hospital's new children's wing. He said he lives in Nashville. We local Democrats didn't have much of a constituency in the room.

I've been invited to the Democratic Women's Lunch this Saturday. I told them I couldn't come because it is the first day of Passover. They said I could just introduce myself and not stay for lunch. The person involved was nice about it, so I said I might go. I probably won't. I'm way overtired, and my sister Robin will be here. Better to acknowledge the holiday and take the day off and spend it with family. We have a temple seder Friday night, and we are going to a home seder with friends Saturday night.  I have to set a line for myself and say "It is important to me not to campaign on this holiday."

I finally got signs for my campaign. There are probably ten or fifteen of them out - six in South Park, two on our street and the rest scattered around among the Bernie Sanders people, who have endorsed me.

In today's Dominion-Post, our local newspaper, the West Virginia Business and Industry Council listed its endorsements. They endorsed the three Republican incumbents in our District. No one I know understands how these people got elected: they are anti-choice, anti-union, anti-gay, and anti-environment. They countered pleas from law enforcement and passed a  bill allowing anyone over twenty-one to carry a concealed weapon with no permit. Of course, the Council wants to make sure there are no regulations on auto dealers, nursing homes, and polluters. That's where their money ( and a lot of it) for the Republican incumbents comes from.

The Bernie people feel that Hillary stole New York from Bernie, but really, it's just the way the game is played. It's actually worse in West Virginia. My fellow Democrats who think they will win against the Republicans because "I'm an eleventh generation West Virginian and my father was a coal miner" or "I'm a father and husband and small business owner," well, they are as delusional as I am. I think I can win by standing up for abortion rights, gay rights, cultural, racial and religious diversity, the environment, and labor against management. None of us really understands what we are up against.

Our house with my sign

At the Brooklyn debate Watch Party

Democratic Party Chicken Lunchlast wek - 7 of the 8 Democrats running for Delegate in our District

At the opening of the Bernie Sanders For President office in Morgantown

World AIDS Day 2015

It was in the Dominion-Post, our local paper, that there would be a candlelight march tonight for AIDS from the Mountainlair, the student union at the center of West Virginia University, to Jamison's, a bar/restaurant on High Street in downtown Morgantown, a few blocks away. I felt I should go.

It rained most of the day, with showers on and off later. The temperature was close to 60 at seven P.M., at least ten degrees above the average mid-day high for December 1.

Joe had bar and bat mitzvah tutoring in Clarksburg, an hour drive south of here, so I was on my own. I walked a half mile to the PRT, the driverless rail system that connects the far flung parts of campus and downtown, and got off at the station near the center of WVU's Downtown campus.

When I arrived at The Mountainlair, I spotted Ed Cole, from the Division of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion, dressed in his customary khakis, navy blue blazer and bow tie. There were people from Caritas House, the local charity group for People With AIDS (PWAs). They apparently sponsored the event. A group of students joined us, possibly all from one class, and mostly women. Some of the people from Caritas House introduced themselves, including Justin Siko, the assistant executive director. I said "We've met before" and we left it at that. We had a confrontation a few years ago about a donation Joe and I made jointly, where a thank you note was sent only to Joe at Tree of Life, even though the check was from our joint account, signed by me, and had our home address on it. At the time I was livid that we were not acknowledged as a couple, and I let Mr. Siko know that. I don't think he wishes to speak to me again. We have not since then been invited to their events.

Sharon Wood, who is the executive director, spoke at the beginning of the march and led the group. We were given candles and a red cup to hold them.

I spoke mostly to a photographer from the Dominion-Post who went along with the group. We were the two who somehow didn't fit in with the others.

Just as we got to Jamison's there was a downpour. Luckily they have an awning, so we were dry. Ms. Wood spoke about the work of Caritas House, how "AIDS doesn't discriminate by race, gender or sexuality." She told us how she became involved when her godson was hospitalized with an AIDS-related illness many years ago.

Then she asked if anyone else had something to share. I was the only one who did. This is more or less what I said, as it wasn't written down.

"I guess I'm the outsider here. I'm a sixty-six year old gay man. In the early days of the AIDS epidemic, in the eighties and nineties, most of the people who died from AIDS were gay men, many of them close friends of mine. The gay newspaper in Los Angeles, where I lived at the time, used to publish three, four and five pages of obituaries of men, mostly young, who had died of AIDS in the previous week. I especially want to remember my close friends, Fred Shuldiner, Art Horowitz, Rue Starr, Hal Wakker, Avram Chill, and David Fyffe, who died just a year ago, although he was diagnosed in 1985. I remember many more people whose lives touched mine, and I feel bad that after twenty-five or thirty years, I have forgotten some of their names." Sharon Wood said "But they still live on in your heart." True.

No one else said anything. Justin Siko read a good, non-sectarian prayer off his phone and I said "Amen." The photographer looked at me, shocked and speechless. No one else said anything, so Sharon Wood invited us all in to Jamison's to socialize. I returned my cup and candle to one of the Caritas House people, and headed home.

At The Mountainlair

At The Mountainlair

Sharon Wood addressing the crowd on High St., in front of Jamison's

My Time Is Now

It's been two weeks of intense feelings, both positive and negative. Last week, I heard speakers about the Israeli and American elections, met the head of The American Conservative Union (who thought it was okay if I was not served in a restaurant because I am gay). The news about the elections is only good because no one believes the Republicans have a credible candidate. As far as Israel, there is a sense of hopelessness that there is any leadership that will solve the problems there.

Then the Mormon Church effectively kicked out same-gender couples and their children. At least many of their own church members rebelled. We heard about the attacks in Paris, and less-publicized attacks in Kenya, Afghanistan and Iraq.

We attended a service and dinner as guests of WVU Hillel Friday. Saturday, I spent most of the day in bed, not willing to deal with the hordes around a WVU football game, and feeling physically and emotionally exhausted.

Things picked up for me Saturday night, when we saw Morgantown Theatre Company's production of "Oliver!" This is the children's theater group where I played the rabbi in "Fiddler on the Roof" in the winter of 2014. Joe and I were blown away by the professionalism of these kids, who range in age from six to eighteen. After ten years of acting classes, I could not have done what the nine-year-old who played Oliver did. It was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Last Sunday we dined at the home of a gay couple we have come to know in Greene County, Pennsylvania, just north of here. It was a chance to let down our (virtual) hair, away from any professional connection, with three other long-time same-gender male couples. I'm grateful to them for adding us to their clan.

I was back at WVU for the Women and Gender Studies Department Fair on Monday and Transgender Day of Remembrance on Wednesday. It's amazing how college has changed since my graduation in 1971. Johns Hopkins, where I was an undergraduate, did not admit women until 1970 (four transferred into my junior class in 1969). They thought they were liberal because they added a "History of Africa" that year. There was no study of women, of gender as a concept, nothing Jewish, certainly nothing gay.

At some point in the spring of 1970, my junior year, the spring of Kent State, I walked down Calvert Street in Baltimore to 29th. I was wearing bell bottomed jeans, a plain t-shirt with a blue ring collar, and a brown "wet look" belted jacket. My already-thinning shoulder length hair was flying in the breeze. I  flashed a peace sign at a passing police car, and a policeman growled at me from the car. Maybe I misremember the details after forty-five years. Or maybe it was a dream. I remember feeling  that this was my time in the world.

I rode the PRT, Morgantown's "futuristic" rail transit line (from 1973) into town Wednesday to the LGBT Equity meeting on WVU's downtown campus. It's a half-mile walk from our house to the last station on the line. It was unseasonably warm and sunny. I had my iPod on, playing "Little Black Submarines" by The Black Keys. And for a minute, I had that same 1970 feeling that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Maybe it was the weather or my heart being fixed with new stents or running for office, or just being a part of something on campus. The world is falling apart and our country is a mess, much like 1970. Perhaps my euphoria is that I understand how bad everything is, but I know that I am doing well.

Our meeting was short, and the Transgender Day of Remembrance after was more moving than I expected it to be. I met some students who came to support transgender people on campus. One young woman told me she was Jewish and confided that she had heard that the rabbi in Morgantown is gay. I was delighted to introduce myself as the rabbi's spouse.

It's Sunday night now as I finish this. It is cold out. There was no sun today. ISIS has united Russia, France and the United States. What the Republicans have been saying about Syrian refugees not being welcome here has resonated with Jewish people, and, for once,  all segments of the Jewish community are together, remembering the Jews who were turned away from the U.S. in the late 1930s.

I would like to think that good will come from the events of the past week, even the tragic events. Despite my advanced age and creaky body, I plan to be part of what happens here in West Virginia, in the United States and in the world, for as long as I am able. 

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.

Sunday night September 27 in Wheeling with Rabbi Joe Hample, Rabbi Beth Jacowitz-Chottiner and Lee Chottiner

Friday evening October 2 in the sukkah at Tree of Life

Sunday, October 4 at Simchat Torah services