The West Virginia Writers' Workshop has been going on for twenty years. Since we moved here, just five years ago,I've been meaning to go. Two years ago, I signed up for one of the four days of the conference; this year I managed get them a check in time to be a full participant.
I signed up for "non-fiction." They asked me to send ten pages to go over in our workshop, where others would make notes. I had to go back into the archives to find things to send. They got ten pages, but from four different pieces.
When I stopped working full time in 2004, at my fifty-fifth birthday, I signed up for writing classes at UCLA Extension. I would get up in the morning, take a bus from Fairfax Avenue in Park LaBrea to UCLA, then have lunch at Falafel King in Westwood, before catching the bus home. Looking through the stuff I wrote then, I found a piece about my life in New Orleans, written at the time of Hurricane Katrina, and a short story I had forgotten, about a Mexican-American high school student who lived in North Hollywood with her mother, who ran a Spanish CD store, and her grandmother. I thought both of these pieces were great. I didn't use them because they were more than ten years old, and I wanted to submit something newer.
The highlight of the conference was meeting people who actually write and teach writing for a living. I try not to express my emotions; it's how I was raised. I saw people who could talk about their passion for language. If they weren't already attractive (most of them were) speaking with passion made them even more interesting.
I saw a few people I knew there, and made some new friends. There was a woman who lives in New Orleans at the conference. She is a nurse with more advanced degrees and has written award-winning articles for medical journals. I was pleased that she agreed to read my piece about the city, and she thought I captured it with my feelings about my life then, and my grief about Katrina.
One of the instructors was David Haslick, who talked about opening your heart instead of letting it break. He couldn't write well until, at age forty, he faced a trauma from his early life.
The people in our non-fiction group had fascinating stories. One woman shared her history of abusive parents and an abusive spouse, another woman visited Southeast Asia for the first time to meet her mother's family, and a young man from Africa, who learned English as a second language, wrote beautifully about life in a West African village..
I tried to figure why my writing is not as good as it was ten years ago, and why it seems flat to me now. I think part of it was the trauma of my heart attack and mother's death in 2003, which inflamed all of my emotions. I'm older now, and married. Things are calmer than they were (but stay tuned for fireworks from City Council). Writing mostly on this blog, I write something, check it for errors and post it without a lot of revising, or even thinking too much.
It occurs to me that maybe I don't think hard enough. I asked myself during the workshop what I'm hiding. Mark Brazaitis, a fellow Morgantown city councilor and writing professor, wrote a book of stories about depression, which I bought two years ago at the conference. I put it down after the first story, frightened to my core. Now I think maybe I need to face my own issues about depression. I also noted that everyone's work had interesting characters, except mine. My stuff is all about me. I know I write partly so I can have my say without being interrupted.
In 2005, I started to write stories about the unique time and place where I grew up. Some of the stories are humorous enough, but I stopped after maybe three of them, because I realized I had never mentioned my parents. That scared me.
I started a novel, several times, about my life in Miami from 1978 to 1984, a fascinating time and place, and a big part of my history. I took pieces of it to a novel class at UCLA. Only the teacher knew the story was autobiographical. A typical comment was "Your lead character is so unlikable. Does he grow over the course of the novel?" The Jewish grandmother was praised as a brilliant character study. "Pure gold," one woman said. I couldn't take it, and I was less than generous in my evaluation of the work of others.
I got some ideas from this conference about what I need to do. First, I need to spend more time sitting down and writing, even if it is just this narcissistic blog.
Then I need to really open my heart and not continue to let it break. I need to deal with depression, a family history that's only normal on the surface, and what I really think and feel, always a frightening proposition.
And craft. I could learn better ways to express myself. I need characters that have a full life apart from mine. I've said that i can't write poetry, but I have, and I could.
I got a lot from this workshop. Making friends with unexpected people, learning about poetry, about healing, about opening up and letting the words flow. I have work to do now.
Friday, July 28, 2017
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Carroll County, and Galax, Virginia
This trip, July 12 to 14, could have been very different. This is the beginning of the sixth year of these explorations. I thought maybe I would skip places that voted for our current President, but the whole point was to get to know what it is like in this part of the world. Then I thought maybe I would stay in the closest Democratic place, and visit from there, like in this case, Blacksburg, Virginia or Winston-Salem, North Carolina, each about an hour from Hillsville, the county seat of Carroll County. That seemed pointless when I thought about it.
I ended up booking one of the cheap brands of my usual motel chain at the exit on I-77 between Hillsville and the independent city of Galax, about seven miles from each of them, three counties south of Princeton, West Virginia, and on the border of North Carolina. I could have done this differently by staying in a campground or renting a cabin along Blue Ridge Parkway or in New River State Park. My custom is to stay in anonymous chain hotels. It's boring, but there it is.
I drove the 270 miles from Morgantown to Hillsville, napped, then checked out Hillsville. It's a pretty town with a historic court house, and a newer fake colonial county office complex nearby. There are two blocks of commercial buildings, also historic, and a small residential area north on Main Street. The real commercial district is at the I-77 interchange with US 58, a few miles west of Main St. I walked a bit downtown and visited the library, which has a collection of dolls, mostly International Barbies. I didn't ask why. I did ask the librarian where to visit. She suggested the old courthouse, which has a museum centered around a shooting that occurred there in 1912.
I didn't see a lot of Confederate stuff in Hillsville, although the old courthouse has a statue dedicated to Confederate soldiers. This area was out of most of the Civil War action, isolated in the Blue Ridge and west of Virginia's main cities. The railroad didn't arrive until after the Civil War. Wikipedia says that Carroll County has been Republican since the Civil War because it was a haven for deserters from the Confederate Army.
I realized there wasn't going to be much "city" in this area, so before dark Wednesday I drove a piece of Blue Ridge Parkway, which runs west to east through the southern part of Carroll County. I drove west to Galax, which straddles the line between Carroll County and Grayson County, then south to Blue Ridge Parkway. I noticed the beginning of a rail trail in Galax, a bike store that rents, and a movie theater outside of downtown Galax, showing the new Spiderman movie.
I decided to go to Galax Thursday morning, rent a bike to ride on the rail trail in New River Park, then see "Spiderman." It was supposed to be cool in the morning, then warming up with thunderstorms in the afternoon, clearing later.
I accomplished those things. It was cool, but humid in the morning, and I rode the trail from 9:30 to 11:30 along New River and some other streams, in a park, adjacent to some semi-rural residential areas. I ate lunch at a diner-type place, nicer looking than I expected and busy, in downtown Galax. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the mayo, and, uh, onion rings. I was impressed that the server knew without my asking that I would want ketchup for my onion rings.
At the movies at 12:45, the young man with a top knot staffing the concession stand asked me if I had seen this movie before. He had seen it three times and wanted to see it again. Admission was only $4.00. I feared the picture and sound would be awful in this dinky theater, but actually it was fine. We can thank digital projection and sound for the demise of bad movie theaters.
The movie was well done. You could see how much money was spent on special effects, blowing up cars, crashing airplanes, splitting a Staten Island ferry in half. The movie was filmed in a half dozen places, all of which gave the filmmakers tax credits. Tom Holland, the 21-year old star, was adorable. I didn't believe he was fifteen, unless a fifteen-year old boy has his hair styled and colored and has a trainer come to his house three times a week to work him out. Still, it was a break-out part for a young actor, who is in every scene, and gives off the sincerity that's written into the script. My favorites were Robert Downey, Jr., as Spiderman's mentor, Marisa Tomei as a hipster Aunt May, and especially Michael Keaton, balls out as the villain of the piece. Kudos to the producers for the multi-racial high school, realistic for New York, and the men and women of all races who portray the faculty. Nice touch. So I liked it, even though it is very much a "boy" movie.The female actors don't have a lot to do.
I went back to the hotel to nap, missing, the late afternoon thunder storm, dined on a bowl of pasta and a salad near the motel, and set off to find the remaining historic places on my list before turning in. It was a wild goose chase for most of them, down rural roads, looking for streets that were unsigned. I only took a pic of a house in downtown Galax.
Galax particularly is a nice little town, with a real central business district. There was once a railroad and a furniture factory, now a rail trail and a decaying building for sale. It's a center for bluegrass music and the furniture company still has a showroom in town. Yes, most of the people voted for the current President in both Carroll County and Galax, and I still saw some of his signs around. The people I spoke to were unfailingly polite and respectful. No funny looks or racial innuendos, which happen in some places.
The scenery is lovely out there in the Blue Ridge. The trees were not exactly the ones in Morgantown. I would need to read up to find out what does grow there. This was a fun trip for me. I was home by 4 P.M. Friday, held up by construction on I-79 near Clarksburg, most of the way home.
Update: Vaughan-Bassett Furniture is, in fact, still manufactured in Galax.
I ended up booking one of the cheap brands of my usual motel chain at the exit on I-77 between Hillsville and the independent city of Galax, about seven miles from each of them, three counties south of Princeton, West Virginia, and on the border of North Carolina. I could have done this differently by staying in a campground or renting a cabin along Blue Ridge Parkway or in New River State Park. My custom is to stay in anonymous chain hotels. It's boring, but there it is.
I drove the 270 miles from Morgantown to Hillsville, napped, then checked out Hillsville. It's a pretty town with a historic court house, and a newer fake colonial county office complex nearby. There are two blocks of commercial buildings, also historic, and a small residential area north on Main Street. The real commercial district is at the I-77 interchange with US 58, a few miles west of Main St. I walked a bit downtown and visited the library, which has a collection of dolls, mostly International Barbies. I didn't ask why. I did ask the librarian where to visit. She suggested the old courthouse, which has a museum centered around a shooting that occurred there in 1912.
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| Carroll County Courthouse, 1870s, with a monument to Confederate soldiers |
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| Doll collection, Carroll County Library, Hillsville |
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| Main St. Historic District, Hillsville |
I didn't see a lot of Confederate stuff in Hillsville, although the old courthouse has a statue dedicated to Confederate soldiers. This area was out of most of the Civil War action, isolated in the Blue Ridge and west of Virginia's main cities. The railroad didn't arrive until after the Civil War. Wikipedia says that Carroll County has been Republican since the Civil War because it was a haven for deserters from the Confederate Army.
I realized there wasn't going to be much "city" in this area, so before dark Wednesday I drove a piece of Blue Ridge Parkway, which runs west to east through the southern part of Carroll County. I drove west to Galax, which straddles the line between Carroll County and Grayson County, then south to Blue Ridge Parkway. I noticed the beginning of a rail trail in Galax, a bike store that rents, and a movie theater outside of downtown Galax, showing the new Spiderman movie.
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| Vista along Blue Ridge Parkway, Carroll County |
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| Farmland along Blue Ridge Parkway |
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| Sidna Allen House, 1910. The county historical society is trying to raise money to complete the restoration. The Allens were implicated in the courthouse massacre in 1912 |
I decided to go to Galax Thursday morning, rent a bike to ride on the rail trail in New River Park, then see "Spiderman." It was supposed to be cool in the morning, then warming up with thunderstorms in the afternoon, clearing later.
I accomplished those things. It was cool, but humid in the morning, and I rode the trail from 9:30 to 11:30 along New River and some other streams, in a park, adjacent to some semi-rural residential areas. I ate lunch at a diner-type place, nicer looking than I expected and busy, in downtown Galax. I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, hold the mayo, and, uh, onion rings. I was impressed that the server knew without my asking that I would want ketchup for my onion rings.
At the movies at 12:45, the young man with a top knot staffing the concession stand asked me if I had seen this movie before. He had seen it three times and wanted to see it again. Admission was only $4.00. I feared the picture and sound would be awful in this dinky theater, but actually it was fine. We can thank digital projection and sound for the demise of bad movie theaters.
The movie was well done. You could see how much money was spent on special effects, blowing up cars, crashing airplanes, splitting a Staten Island ferry in half. The movie was filmed in a half dozen places, all of which gave the filmmakers tax credits. Tom Holland, the 21-year old star, was adorable. I didn't believe he was fifteen, unless a fifteen-year old boy has his hair styled and colored and has a trainer come to his house three times a week to work him out. Still, it was a break-out part for a young actor, who is in every scene, and gives off the sincerity that's written into the script. My favorites were Robert Downey, Jr., as Spiderman's mentor, Marisa Tomei as a hipster Aunt May, and especially Michael Keaton, balls out as the villain of the piece. Kudos to the producers for the multi-racial high school, realistic for New York, and the men and women of all races who portray the faculty. Nice touch. So I liked it, even though it is very much a "boy" movie.The female actors don't have a lot to do.
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| Galax Commercial District |
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| Empty factory, Galax |
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| Falls along the rail trail, New River State Park |
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| New River State Park |
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| Felts House, 1930, Galax |
I went back to the hotel to nap, missing, the late afternoon thunder storm, dined on a bowl of pasta and a salad near the motel, and set off to find the remaining historic places on my list before turning in. It was a wild goose chase for most of them, down rural roads, looking for streets that were unsigned. I only took a pic of a house in downtown Galax.
Galax particularly is a nice little town, with a real central business district. There was once a railroad and a furniture factory, now a rail trail and a decaying building for sale. It's a center for bluegrass music and the furniture company still has a showroom in town. Yes, most of the people voted for the current President in both Carroll County and Galax, and I still saw some of his signs around. The people I spoke to were unfailingly polite and respectful. No funny looks or racial innuendos, which happen in some places.
The scenery is lovely out there in the Blue Ridge. The trees were not exactly the ones in Morgantown. I would need to read up to find out what does grow there. This was a fun trip for me. I was home by 4 P.M. Friday, held up by construction on I-79 near Clarksburg, most of the way home.
Update: Vaughan-Bassett Furniture is, in fact, still manufactured in Galax.
Sunday, July 9, 2017
The Wedding, The Fourth of July, and City Council
I normally just do what I have to do, make plans and carry them out. I understand that I am not young and I have to be a little careful. No one else sees that.
Last weekend, my sister Robin came in from Maryland. Part of it was to spend the holiday with us, but also she wanted to see me installed in City Council on July 5. Joe and I were asked to do a wedding July 2 in Pittsburgh. The groom is from Morgantown, and we did his brother's wedding three years ago in Charleston. I used to sing for Jewish prayer services. I stopped after the major holidays in 2003. I had been ill that year, and found doing the services too hard for me. People know I sing, but I am rarely asked. Joe does his own singing at synagogue, and I don't want to compete with him. I have a book of cantor music for life-cycle events. At the wedding, I sang the sheva b'rachot, the traditional seven wedding blessings, a benediction, and a selection from Song of Songs. I worked on my voice for the week before and rehearsed the music at home with the piano we almost never use.
Saturday, we drove the seventy-five miles to the Strip District in Pittsburgh, in time for a late afternoon rehearsal and then dinner at a seafood restaurant. The buffet did not include any "forbidden species," to my relief. We went back to our hotel after dinner; the couple and their friends stayed later to drink and party.
It was warm in Pittsburgh Sunday. We left our hotel, dressed for the wedding just after noon, and found a restaurant for lunch. We had looked around the area earlier. We were in suits while everyone else was in summer wear. A nap would have been nice. Instead, we sat in the air conditioning at the Heinz Museum where the wedding was to be.
The wedding went off without a hitch. The groom was handsome, the bride beautiful in a gorgeous dress, Joe was charming and entertaining, and I sang better than I thought I would. We stayed for dinner and left after 8:30 to drive home, just as the bride and groom were lifted on chairs while everyone danced around them.
The bride and groom are graduates of WVU, and we met many of their thirtyish friends who had gone to school with them, some from West Virginia, all living in Pittsburgh. A typical comment was "We didn't see a future for ourselves anywhere in West Virginia. We learned to do high-tech jobs, which don't exist in West Virginia, and we also wanted to be in a more urban and sophisticated environment." We have work to do here if we hope to attract or retain bright, educated young people.
We got home around ten, and I just wanted to sleep. Robin and Joe played Scrabble before going to bed.
It was my idea to have City Council members ride bikes with the kids in Morgantown's Fourth of July parade. I was already exhausted. We had been out Monday night in Fairmont with friends, who had fireworks, and cooked the kind of vegetarian food we don't normally eat. I take a "water" pill every other day, and I was on the last day of antibiotics for a cut on my arm that was infected. I wanted to stay home, take care of my stressed digestive system and rest up before the parade. The bikes were to meet at five. Instead, we went out late in the morning to walk around Cheat Lake, one of the prettiest recreation areas around here. It was already too hot. Joe and Robin wanted to go out for lunch; we settled on a "fast casual " chain restaurant near our house, so I could nap for an hour before going out to ride my bike the three miles from our house to downtown. It was 86 F. at 5 P.M. Four of us from Council showed up to ride. We rode from the meeting spot to the head of the parade, then waited close to an hour to step off. I was dizzy and had to sit on the curb. The parade went well, and although people offered me a ride home, I opted to ride back. I had used up the one bottle of water I brought, and I had one of those plastic envelopes of juice-like drink, courtesy of one of the organizers for the kids.
I got home close to 8 P.M., overheated and dehydrated. I drank three bottles of water, and Robin put a wet towel on my head, as I was burning up.I managed to swallow some food after 9.
Our first Council meeting was Wednesday, and I had suggested we all meet at a flatbread-pizza-and- salad brew pub in Morgantown's Wharf District for dinner. I knew they could accommodate a crowd. I barely got out of bed most of the day. Twenty people showed up for dinner: the seven Councilors, spouses, some children and friends. I was happy that we could all relax together without the rancor that plagued the last council.
Our installation on council only took ten minutes, as I expected. There was some business and we each had a chance to say something at the end. My ward is possibly the most politically conservative in the city. I explained my being there by comparing myself to Christoper Isherwood, the author whose story "Goodbye to Berlin" became the musical "Cabaret." Isherwood once wrote that his Catholic British mother wanted him to be patriotic, religious, and married. He said he had become that, only American, a Hindu, and married to another man. As someone who is religious, married, and a homeowner, I said felt that I am exactly in the right neighborhood.
I'm elated to be on the City Council, and I was happy to be at that first meeting. I've been to City Council meetings before, but it's different being on the Council. It's an awesome responsibility.
It's now Sunday night, and I have stayed as close to home as possible the last few days. I'm still out more than most men my age, but sleeping more during the day, and feeling like I had the wind knocked out of me. I did bicycle an hour and a half this afternoon in cooler than average weather, but I skipped seeing Bernie Sanders, whom we saw in Charleston two weeks ago, and also the Morgantown Interfaith Council this afternoon, where Joe was explaining Jewish practices to the group. Tappuz, our cat, has also been staying close to home, instead of spending most of her time outside, as she had been doing since the weather warmed up. Maybe she reflects my diminished energy, or perhaps she was frightened by fireworks last week.
Tuesday will mark five years since our arrival in Morgantown. My original goal here was only to be a spouse for Joe, and to support him in his new career. Now I have my own career as a representative of my city, and last week I enjoyed performing at a wedding (it helped that the couple was so sweet). I've also signed up for a writing workshop at the end of the month, so hopefully, I will be doing more writing than the disjointed pieces I put up on this blog.
I only hope I can muster the energy to continue these endeavors, pacing myself physically, especially, but also emotionally, so I don't crash and burn.
Last weekend, my sister Robin came in from Maryland. Part of it was to spend the holiday with us, but also she wanted to see me installed in City Council on July 5. Joe and I were asked to do a wedding July 2 in Pittsburgh. The groom is from Morgantown, and we did his brother's wedding three years ago in Charleston. I used to sing for Jewish prayer services. I stopped after the major holidays in 2003. I had been ill that year, and found doing the services too hard for me. People know I sing, but I am rarely asked. Joe does his own singing at synagogue, and I don't want to compete with him. I have a book of cantor music for life-cycle events. At the wedding, I sang the sheva b'rachot, the traditional seven wedding blessings, a benediction, and a selection from Song of Songs. I worked on my voice for the week before and rehearsed the music at home with the piano we almost never use.
Saturday, we drove the seventy-five miles to the Strip District in Pittsburgh, in time for a late afternoon rehearsal and then dinner at a seafood restaurant. The buffet did not include any "forbidden species," to my relief. We went back to our hotel after dinner; the couple and their friends stayed later to drink and party.
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| Joe at the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was held, Strip District, Pittsburgh |
It was warm in Pittsburgh Sunday. We left our hotel, dressed for the wedding just after noon, and found a restaurant for lunch. We had looked around the area earlier. We were in suits while everyone else was in summer wear. A nap would have been nice. Instead, we sat in the air conditioning at the Heinz Museum where the wedding was to be.
The wedding went off without a hitch. The groom was handsome, the bride beautiful in a gorgeous dress, Joe was charming and entertaining, and I sang better than I thought I would. We stayed for dinner and left after 8:30 to drive home, just as the bride and groom were lifted on chairs while everyone danced around them.
The bride and groom are graduates of WVU, and we met many of their thirtyish friends who had gone to school with them, some from West Virginia, all living in Pittsburgh. A typical comment was "We didn't see a future for ourselves anywhere in West Virginia. We learned to do high-tech jobs, which don't exist in West Virginia, and we also wanted to be in a more urban and sophisticated environment." We have work to do here if we hope to attract or retain bright, educated young people.
We got home around ten, and I just wanted to sleep. Robin and Joe played Scrabble before going to bed.
It was my idea to have City Council members ride bikes with the kids in Morgantown's Fourth of July parade. I was already exhausted. We had been out Monday night in Fairmont with friends, who had fireworks, and cooked the kind of vegetarian food we don't normally eat. I take a "water" pill every other day, and I was on the last day of antibiotics for a cut on my arm that was infected. I wanted to stay home, take care of my stressed digestive system and rest up before the parade. The bikes were to meet at five. Instead, we went out late in the morning to walk around Cheat Lake, one of the prettiest recreation areas around here. It was already too hot. Joe and Robin wanted to go out for lunch; we settled on a "fast casual " chain restaurant near our house, so I could nap for an hour before going out to ride my bike the three miles from our house to downtown. It was 86 F. at 5 P.M. Four of us from Council showed up to ride. We rode from the meeting spot to the head of the parade, then waited close to an hour to step off. I was dizzy and had to sit on the curb. The parade went well, and although people offered me a ride home, I opted to ride back. I had used up the one bottle of water I brought, and I had one of those plastic envelopes of juice-like drink, courtesy of one of the organizers for the kids.
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| At Cheat Lake, July 4, photo by Kevin of Woodburn Shanks Barbecue, who happened to be there |
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| Three councilors on bikes, plus our pal Evan Hansen, July 4 I'm not sure who snapped this photo |
I got home close to 8 P.M., overheated and dehydrated. I drank three bottles of water, and Robin put a wet towel on my head, as I was burning up.I managed to swallow some food after 9.
Our first Council meeting was Wednesday, and I had suggested we all meet at a flatbread-pizza-and- salad brew pub in Morgantown's Wharf District for dinner. I knew they could accommodate a crowd. I barely got out of bed most of the day. Twenty people showed up for dinner: the seven Councilors, spouses, some children and friends. I was happy that we could all relax together without the rancor that plagued the last council.
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| Dinner July 5 with Councilors and family, taken by a server at the restaurant |
Our installation on council only took ten minutes, as I expected. There was some business and we each had a chance to say something at the end. My ward is possibly the most politically conservative in the city. I explained my being there by comparing myself to Christoper Isherwood, the author whose story "Goodbye to Berlin" became the musical "Cabaret." Isherwood once wrote that his Catholic British mother wanted him to be patriotic, religious, and married. He said he had become that, only American, a Hindu, and married to another man. As someone who is religious, married, and a homeowner, I said felt that I am exactly in the right neighborhood.
I'm elated to be on the City Council, and I was happy to be at that first meeting. I've been to City Council meetings before, but it's different being on the Council. It's an awesome responsibility.
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| Our official portrait from the City's photographer |
It's now Sunday night, and I have stayed as close to home as possible the last few days. I'm still out more than most men my age, but sleeping more during the day, and feeling like I had the wind knocked out of me. I did bicycle an hour and a half this afternoon in cooler than average weather, but I skipped seeing Bernie Sanders, whom we saw in Charleston two weeks ago, and also the Morgantown Interfaith Council this afternoon, where Joe was explaining Jewish practices to the group. Tappuz, our cat, has also been staying close to home, instead of spending most of her time outside, as she had been doing since the weather warmed up. Maybe she reflects my diminished energy, or perhaps she was frightened by fireworks last week.
Tuesday will mark five years since our arrival in Morgantown. My original goal here was only to be a spouse for Joe, and to support him in his new career. Now I have my own career as a representative of my city, and last week I enjoyed performing at a wedding (it helped that the couple was so sweet). I've also signed up for a writing workshop at the end of the month, so hopefully, I will be doing more writing than the disjointed pieces I put up on this blog.
I only hope I can muster the energy to continue these endeavors, pacing myself physically, especially, but also emotionally, so I don't crash and burn.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Wonder Woman, Gal Gadot and Israel
The news from Israel has been bad. Benjamin Netanyahu, the Prime Minister, has aligned himself with the odious U.S. President. Netanyahu is beholden to the right-wing Jewish religious parties, just as Trump is under the sway of right-wing Christians in the United States. This week, Netanyahu backed out on a deal to create a space at the Western Wall where men and women can pray together, and reaffirmed that only conversions by Orthodox rabbis are valid in Israel. On Rosh Hodesh, the beginning of the Hebrew month last week, Nashot HaKotel (Women of the Wall) brought a Torah scroll to the women's prayer section, and were harassed by Orthodox men. Rick Jacobs, the head of The Union For Reform Judaism, canceled a meeting with Netanyahu. For liberal American Jews, it is hard to continue to support Israel.
There are some who would boycott the new movie, Wonder Woman, because the star, Gal Gadot, is Israeli, and like most Israelis, an Army veteran. I read that the movie was banned in Lebanon because of its Israeli star.
I'm not one for boycotts, and the film got terrific reviews. Normally I don't see movies where there are car or airplane chases, stunts or things blowing up. I don't care for war movies. I like hipster foreign films, movies with a lot of talking, and romance. A gay or Jewish theme helps. I like films by Woody Allen, Pedro Almodóvar and Lars Von Trier. Wonder Woman is not my kind of movie.
I went tonight, I think the first time this year that I've been to a movie in a theater in Morgantown.
I loved this movie. And what I liked most was Gal Gadot. She is terrific, but the part I love is that she reminds me of everything I like about people from Israel. She is strong, smart, knows who she is, and carries the history of her people with her. She is sexy, vulnerable, funny, charming, and headstrong. I don't mean to stereotype a whole people (although I suppose that is what I am doing), but that is how I see Israelis. She sees how hopeless peace is, but she still wants to work for it. It took an Israeli actress to be able to portray all of those qualities.
Kudos to director Patty Jenkins for having the wisdom of a woman to have the only actor partially nude in the movie be Chris Pine.
I guess I'm saying that if Wonder Woman can find a redeeming value in mankind, then, through Gal Gadot's depiction of her, I can find hope for Israel, and maybe, by extension, for the United States.
There are some who would boycott the new movie, Wonder Woman, because the star, Gal Gadot, is Israeli, and like most Israelis, an Army veteran. I read that the movie was banned in Lebanon because of its Israeli star.
I'm not one for boycotts, and the film got terrific reviews. Normally I don't see movies where there are car or airplane chases, stunts or things blowing up. I don't care for war movies. I like hipster foreign films, movies with a lot of talking, and romance. A gay or Jewish theme helps. I like films by Woody Allen, Pedro Almodóvar and Lars Von Trier. Wonder Woman is not my kind of movie.
I went tonight, I think the first time this year that I've been to a movie in a theater in Morgantown.
I loved this movie. And what I liked most was Gal Gadot. She is terrific, but the part I love is that she reminds me of everything I like about people from Israel. She is strong, smart, knows who she is, and carries the history of her people with her. She is sexy, vulnerable, funny, charming, and headstrong. I don't mean to stereotype a whole people (although I suppose that is what I am doing), but that is how I see Israelis. She sees how hopeless peace is, but she still wants to work for it. It took an Israeli actress to be able to portray all of those qualities.
Kudos to director Patty Jenkins for having the wisdom of a woman to have the only actor partially nude in the movie be Chris Pine.
I guess I'm saying that if Wonder Woman can find a redeeming value in mankind, then, through Gal Gadot's depiction of her, I can find hope for Israel, and maybe, by extension, for the United States.
Saturday, June 24, 2017
Carroll County, Ohio
You wouldn't think that Ohio was in Appalachia, but Carroll County, Ohio, seems to be as Appalachian as anyplace in West Virginia or Kentucky. Wikipedia said it is the most polluted county in Ohio. I suggested to the tourist lady that she could edit that out, and apparently she did. Carroll County has more fracking wells than any place in Ohio.
It's 115 miles from Morgantown to Carrollton, the county seat of Carroll County. In my rule book, I would spend one night, but I decided to bend the rules for a county of only 28,000 people, and come home the same day. On the back roads I traveled, there are little towns of maybe twenty buildings, half of them vacant, with people sitting on the porches of the other houses in the middle of a weekday, looking like they have no place to be.
The hills aren't mountains, but steep and forested. The valley floors are used for agriculture and there are immense silver-colored machines off in the fields in places, used for the oil and gas industry.
There are eleven places on The National Register of Historic Places. Two are south of Carrollton, three are in town, and the others are to the north. The first I reached was Kilgore Union Presbyterian Church, just south of the community of Kilgore in Loudon Township, and built around 1828, early for this part of the country. It sits empty and sealed up.
Petersburg Mill is south of Carrollton, and is a museum where they have festivals on some summer weekends. In addition to the mill and outbuildings there is a Victorian farmhouse. I took a picture there, but lately my Samsung Galaxy S7 wants to erase my pictures without my permission. I can't figure it out.
I made it to Carrollton about 12:30. The town lies on Ohio Route 43, between Cleveland on Lake Erie and Steubenville on the Ohio River. Northwest of Carrollton, the closest city is Canton. Public Square is the center of Carrollton, the median of combined Routes 43 and 9. Stores line the streets, and the historic McCook House sits at the south end of the square; Carroll County Courthouse, constructed in 1885, is on the east side. Main Street passes along the north side of the square.
I had lunch at Donna's Deli, on the west side of Public Square. I hopelessly looked for something low-fat on the menu, but gave up and had a smoked turkey and cheddar sandwich on toasted packaged rye with cranberry mayonnaise. They offered homemade potato salad, cole slaw and pea salad, but I went with a bag of chips. The sandwich was yummy, and big enough for at least two more people. The people who worked there were friendly and enthusiastic.
The other restaurant on the square, two doors up, had a sign that welcomed people carrying concealed weapons and said "Thank you for protecting us."
After lunch, I headed to the visitor's bureau on the corner of the square. I chatted with the woman there. She told me there had been no water problems with the fracking in the area. She recommended the stores along Main Street.. There is a Ben Franklin 5 &10, full of sewing things, candy, and lots of patriotic paraphernalia. The bakery next door had pastries and brownies. I went for a raspberry iced chocolate chip brownie, despite being full. Across the street is a farm toy store, selling toy tractors, pick up trucks and farm implements. The woman in the store had a big yellow dog with her. The dog saw the uneaten brownie in my hand, and looked interested. I stuck the brownie in my pocket. The woman thought I would be afraid of the dog or worried about her shedding on me. I told her I wasn't afraid and the dog and I became friends after a time.
Like everyone I met in Carrollton, the store lady was friendly and wanted to talk. We talked about politics. She is conservative, but not happy about the healthcare proposals, and how companies declared bankruptcy, robbed workers of their benefits, and kept going. Anyway, I bought a toy antique tractor to put on my desk, if I can ever clear a spot for it.
Politico says Carroll County voted 70% for Trump, and that combined with the fracking, and the Wikipedia article that used to say it was the most polluted county in the state made me not want to go. Still, people were unfailingly polite, I had a yummy high-calorie sandwich and a brownie at local places. I'm glad I went.
Carrollton is more impacted by truck traffic than Morgantown. A truck stopped traffic for ten minutes as I left the visitor center, trying to make a sharp turn off the square. There is no bypass to the town; there are no four-lane roads in the county.
I drove out Main Street, where there is a gas station and a few exuberant Victorian houses. The chain stores were north on 43, including a full grocery store run by Dollar General. I was going home late in the afternoon, so I thought I would check out the historic train station in Minerva, at the north end of the county. Most of Minerva is in Stark County, where Canton is the main town. I found the train station, now apparently only a drop-off spot for the Salvation Army, then headed a few blocks north to find US 30. From there it was 122 miles home. I arrived just after six P.M.
It's 115 miles from Morgantown to Carrollton, the county seat of Carroll County. In my rule book, I would spend one night, but I decided to bend the rules for a county of only 28,000 people, and come home the same day. On the back roads I traveled, there are little towns of maybe twenty buildings, half of them vacant, with people sitting on the porches of the other houses in the middle of a weekday, looking like they have no place to be.
The hills aren't mountains, but steep and forested. The valley floors are used for agriculture and there are immense silver-colored machines off in the fields in places, used for the oil and gas industry.
There are eleven places on The National Register of Historic Places. Two are south of Carrollton, three are in town, and the others are to the north. The first I reached was Kilgore Union Presbyterian Church, just south of the community of Kilgore in Loudon Township, and built around 1828, early for this part of the country. It sits empty and sealed up.
Petersburg Mill is south of Carrollton, and is a museum where they have festivals on some summer weekends. In addition to the mill and outbuildings there is a Victorian farmhouse. I took a picture there, but lately my Samsung Galaxy S7 wants to erase my pictures without my permission. I can't figure it out.
I made it to Carrollton about 12:30. The town lies on Ohio Route 43, between Cleveland on Lake Erie and Steubenville on the Ohio River. Northwest of Carrollton, the closest city is Canton. Public Square is the center of Carrollton, the median of combined Routes 43 and 9. Stores line the streets, and the historic McCook House sits at the south end of the square; Carroll County Courthouse, constructed in 1885, is on the east side. Main Street passes along the north side of the square.
I had lunch at Donna's Deli, on the west side of Public Square. I hopelessly looked for something low-fat on the menu, but gave up and had a smoked turkey and cheddar sandwich on toasted packaged rye with cranberry mayonnaise. They offered homemade potato salad, cole slaw and pea salad, but I went with a bag of chips. The sandwich was yummy, and big enough for at least two more people. The people who worked there were friendly and enthusiastic.
The other restaurant on the square, two doors up, had a sign that welcomed people carrying concealed weapons and said "Thank you for protecting us."
After lunch, I headed to the visitor's bureau on the corner of the square. I chatted with the woman there. She told me there had been no water problems with the fracking in the area. She recommended the stores along Main Street.. There is a Ben Franklin 5 &10, full of sewing things, candy, and lots of patriotic paraphernalia. The bakery next door had pastries and brownies. I went for a raspberry iced chocolate chip brownie, despite being full. Across the street is a farm toy store, selling toy tractors, pick up trucks and farm implements. The woman in the store had a big yellow dog with her. The dog saw the uneaten brownie in my hand, and looked interested. I stuck the brownie in my pocket. The woman thought I would be afraid of the dog or worried about her shedding on me. I told her I wasn't afraid and the dog and I became friends after a time.
Like everyone I met in Carrollton, the store lady was friendly and wanted to talk. We talked about politics. She is conservative, but not happy about the healthcare proposals, and how companies declared bankruptcy, robbed workers of their benefits, and kept going. Anyway, I bought a toy antique tractor to put on my desk, if I can ever clear a spot for it.
Politico says Carroll County voted 70% for Trump, and that combined with the fracking, and the Wikipedia article that used to say it was the most polluted county in the state made me not want to go. Still, people were unfailingly polite, I had a yummy high-calorie sandwich and a brownie at local places. I'm glad I went.
Carrollton is more impacted by truck traffic than Morgantown. A truck stopped traffic for ten minutes as I left the visitor center, trying to make a sharp turn off the square. There is no bypass to the town; there are no four-lane roads in the county.
I drove out Main Street, where there is a gas station and a few exuberant Victorian houses. The chain stores were north on 43, including a full grocery store run by Dollar General. I was going home late in the afternoon, so I thought I would check out the historic train station in Minerva, at the north end of the county. Most of Minerva is in Stark County, where Canton is the main town. I found the train station, now apparently only a drop-off spot for the Salvation Army, then headed a few blocks north to find US 30. From there it was 122 miles home. I arrived just after six P.M.
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| Kilgore Union Presbyterian Church |
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| Carroll County Courthouse, Public Square, Carrollton, 1884-5 |
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| Daniel McCook House, Public Square, 1837. McCook was a major in the Union Army in the Civil War, eight of his sons also served. |
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| Pavilion in Public Square, looking east |
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| Van Horn Building, Main St. and Public Square, 1820s, remodeled in the 1870s. |
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| Wheeling and Lake Erie Railroad station, Minerva |
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Carroll County, Maryland
Garrison Keillor wrote a story for The New Yorker once about "Momentism," a fake philosophy about how moments define your life. I had a moment Thursday, on my way to Carroll County, Maryland. The directions on Google Maps had me get off I-70 at the eastern end of Washington County, and head northeast on back roads through Frederick County. I was driving in our little 2012 Suzuki, and Coldplay's "A Head Full of Dreams" was in my CD player. The windows were open, the temperature dropping as I climbed Catoctin Mountain. There was a sign for Cunningham Falls State Park. I went to a Jewish summer camp near there for part of three summers, 1961,'62 and '63. Not that camp was all that pleasant an experience for me. The air smelled from fresh tree pollen, reminding me of the asthma attacks I had at camp. I remembered the bullying, and that time the first year, before my twelfth birthday, when my parents, who said they wouldn't, drove up in their beautiful new Oldsmobile convertible on visitors' day, and I burst into tears when I saw them. It wasn't the last time they couldn't figure out who I was. I careened around the curves in the road, and Chris Martin was singing "Hymn For The Weekend," and I was just elated. I can't explain why I was so happy at that moment. Maybe I was feeling that that insecure 11-year old, away from his parents for the first time, had finally figured out who he was and is happy about how it all worked out.
I had divided Carroll County into two parts, north and south, and randomly picked ten of the sixty-one sites on the National Register of Historic Places to visit Thursday afternoon and evening, and ten more for Friday morning. And I wanted to make sure I saw all the Historic Districts. A lot to do. I reserved a room near the edge of Westminster, the county seat, at a chain motel, not my usual chain.
I grew up west of Baltimore, in Baltimore County, between Liberty Road and Reisterstown Road. Both roads begin in Baltimore. Reisterstown Road was U.S. 140, now State Road 140, and is the main street of Pikesville and Owings Mills, Baltimore 's Jewish suburbs. At Reisterstown, it turns left to Westminster, and used to go to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania as U.S. 140. Liberty Road heads more westerly, starting at Baltimore's Druid Hill Park as Liberty Heights Avenue (notorious from Barry Levinson's movie) and becomes Liberty Road at the city limits. Growing up, that area was mostly Jewish; now it is largely African-American. As soon as I saw a sign that said "140" I felt close to home. Not that I ever visited Carroll County as a kid. It wasn't someplace we went, although it was only a fifteen minute drive out Liberty Road.
I did go there once, maybe twenty years ago, with my post-college Baltimore friend Chuck. The county had a corn festival with 25, 50 and 100 mile bike rides. I think I was living in Florida then, so it may have been thirty-five years ago. Time flies. Chuck and I did the fifty mile bike ride, then had a dinner of three pieces of fried chicken and all the corn you could eat. Chuck said to me "Don't you feel right at home here?" Actually, I didn't. I was ten shades darker than everyone there, and I thought people were giving us looks. Maybe I'm paranoid. Anyway, Chuck is from Southern Maryland, and his family has been in the state since the 1600s. My father came at eighteen in 1940; my mother in 1947, when she married my father. They were both New York City born and raised.
I arrived in Carroll County at 1:30 P.M., and spent two hours looking for historic places in the north end of the county.
At 3;30, I headed to the hotel, having hit only five historic places and two historic districts. I slept an hour, spent another hour on the computer, then walked a mile and a half into downtown Westminster, passing McDaniel College (formerly Western Maryland College), where people were walking to a high school graduation. I walked much of Main Street, Westminster, snapping pics and settling on a family-run Thai restaurant for dinner. I stopped in the library, located in a park setting on Main, and got back to my hotel after nine, stopping, against diet rules, for homemade ice cream (cherry vanilla) at Baugher's Restaurant, near my motel.
I was up late trying to make sense of the half-day I planned for Friday. I thought I could hit the remaining five historic sites and a few districts at the north end of the county, then see all I wanted to see at the south end of the county. That didn't happen. There is a mall in Westminster, not doing well, with a Boscov's Department Store, out of Philadelphia. I found a few places in the north end of the county, then decided I should try to seee some of the south before heading off to my sister in the afternoon.
I ate lunch at 1 at a Denny's in Eldersburg, the most suburban part of Carroll County, just past Liberty Reservoir, on the Patapsco River, a few miles out Liberty Road from Randallstown, in Baltimore County, where I attended Hebrew school and had my bar mitzvah. I was tempted to go back and have a look, but the synagogue is now a church, and you can't really go back, can you? The Denny's is in a town center-like development where there had once been a mall. I told my sister I was on my way to her, 45 miles away, via MD 32, a kind of outer loop of Baltimore. I stopped to check out Sykesville, a historic town at the south end of Carroll County, just across a bridge from much hipper Howard County. This is where I found the independent bookstore, the ice cream shop, the old train station and warehouse, now trendy restaurants. I messaged my sister that I might be a little later than expected, and hung out a bit. The woman at the bookstore had never heard of Howard County native Michael Chabon, and didn't have the collection of essays he and his wife, Ayelet Waldman, edited. That's what I was looking for.
Maybe Chuck was right. It was good to be near home again. The trees are a little different than in Morgantown, the smells, the heat that Friday. Still, most of this county was unfamiliar to me, and, as usual, I enjoyed exploring.
I had divided Carroll County into two parts, north and south, and randomly picked ten of the sixty-one sites on the National Register of Historic Places to visit Thursday afternoon and evening, and ten more for Friday morning. And I wanted to make sure I saw all the Historic Districts. A lot to do. I reserved a room near the edge of Westminster, the county seat, at a chain motel, not my usual chain.
I grew up west of Baltimore, in Baltimore County, between Liberty Road and Reisterstown Road. Both roads begin in Baltimore. Reisterstown Road was U.S. 140, now State Road 140, and is the main street of Pikesville and Owings Mills, Baltimore 's Jewish suburbs. At Reisterstown, it turns left to Westminster, and used to go to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania as U.S. 140. Liberty Road heads more westerly, starting at Baltimore's Druid Hill Park as Liberty Heights Avenue (notorious from Barry Levinson's movie) and becomes Liberty Road at the city limits. Growing up, that area was mostly Jewish; now it is largely African-American. As soon as I saw a sign that said "140" I felt close to home. Not that I ever visited Carroll County as a kid. It wasn't someplace we went, although it was only a fifteen minute drive out Liberty Road.
I did go there once, maybe twenty years ago, with my post-college Baltimore friend Chuck. The county had a corn festival with 25, 50 and 100 mile bike rides. I think I was living in Florida then, so it may have been thirty-five years ago. Time flies. Chuck and I did the fifty mile bike ride, then had a dinner of three pieces of fried chicken and all the corn you could eat. Chuck said to me "Don't you feel right at home here?" Actually, I didn't. I was ten shades darker than everyone there, and I thought people were giving us looks. Maybe I'm paranoid. Anyway, Chuck is from Southern Maryland, and his family has been in the state since the 1600s. My father came at eighteen in 1940; my mother in 1947, when she married my father. They were both New York City born and raised.
I arrived in Carroll County at 1:30 P.M., and spent two hours looking for historic places in the north end of the county.
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| Ludwick Rudisel Tannery, Taneytown, 1807 |
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| Early stone house in Taneytown Historic District |
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| Jacob Koons Farmhouse near Taneytown, c. 1869 |
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| Wilson's Inheritance, near Union Bridge, 1830s, looked vacant |
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| Uniontown Historic District |
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| House in New Windsor Historic District |
At 3;30, I headed to the hotel, having hit only five historic places and two historic districts. I slept an hour, spent another hour on the computer, then walked a mile and a half into downtown Westminster, passing McDaniel College (formerly Western Maryland College), where people were walking to a high school graduation. I walked much of Main Street, Westminster, snapping pics and settling on a family-run Thai restaurant for dinner. I stopped in the library, located in a park setting on Main, and got back to my hotel after nine, stopping, against diet rules, for homemade ice cream (cherry vanilla) at Baugher's Restaurant, near my motel.
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| McDaniel College, Western Maryland College Alumni Auditorium and Chapel, late 19th century |
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| Main and Center Sts., Westminster |
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| House on West Main St,Westminster |
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| Baltimore style row houses, Main St., Westminster |
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| Carroll County Library and Park, Westminster |
I was up late trying to make sense of the half-day I planned for Friday. I thought I could hit the remaining five historic sites and a few districts at the north end of the county, then see all I wanted to see at the south end of the county. That didn't happen. There is a mall in Westminster, not doing well, with a Boscov's Department Store, out of Philadelphia. I found a few places in the north end of the county, then decided I should try to seee some of the south before heading off to my sister in the afternoon.
I ate lunch at 1 at a Denny's in Eldersburg, the most suburban part of Carroll County, just past Liberty Reservoir, on the Patapsco River, a few miles out Liberty Road from Randallstown, in Baltimore County, where I attended Hebrew school and had my bar mitzvah. I was tempted to go back and have a look, but the synagogue is now a church, and you can't really go back, can you? The Denny's is in a town center-like development where there had once been a mall. I told my sister I was on my way to her, 45 miles away, via MD 32, a kind of outer loop of Baltimore. I stopped to check out Sykesville, a historic town at the south end of Carroll County, just across a bridge from much hipper Howard County. This is where I found the independent bookstore, the ice cream shop, the old train station and warehouse, now trendy restaurants. I messaged my sister that I might be a little later than expected, and hung out a bit. The woman at the bookstore had never heard of Howard County native Michael Chabon, and didn't have the collection of essays he and his wife, Ayelet Waldman, edited. That's what I was looking for.
Maybe Chuck was right. It was good to be near home again. The trees are a little different than in Morgantown, the smells, the heat that Friday. Still, most of this county was unfamiliar to me, and, as usual, I enjoyed exploring.
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| Slagle-Byers House, 1819, on a major street north of Westminster |
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| Union Mills Historic District, mill is from 1797, owned by the Shriver family originally. Union and Confederate generals were hosted here during the Gettysburg campaign. The homestead is 17 miles south of Gettysburg. |
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| Lineboro Historic District, bordering Pennsylvania |
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| Wesley Chapel Methodist Episcopal Church, Eldersburg, one of the first Methodist churches in the US. |
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| Former Warehouse, now a craft brewery, Sykesville |
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| Main St., Sykesville Historic District |
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| Former B&O Station, now a restaurant, Sykesville |
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| South Branch of the Patapsco River, the southern boundary of Carroll County at Sykesville |
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.
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