The Squeeze is On

Johnny looked out the window and stared aimlessly into space. Blue skies were all that he could see, endless blue skies punctuated by the occasional roof line. He sighed, long and deep and shook his head. Blue skies were supposed to be symbolic of hope and possibility. Blue skies were so often used by writers to help describe the feeling of what could be.

But as the ubiquitous “they” said, he wasn’t feeling it.

No hope, no possibility. Not now, not today, not at this moment. Because at this very moment he felt like an anaconda had wrapped itself around his trunk and was slowly squeezing him to death. He grunted and looked for the head of the snake. If he could wrap his hands around it he would return the favor and teach the reptile that two could play the game.

The thought made him laugh. What the hell was he doing thinking about wrestling with a fake snake, but it was classic Johnny. He had a plan for how to deal with it and he knew that he was capable. Didn’t matter how big that sucker was, Johnny was built for demolition, broad shoulders and hands that looked like they could crush boulders made it clear that this was so.

But there wasn’t a snake. All he was doing was engaging in a game of mental shadow boxing. It made him feel better to do so. It was easier to paint a face onto the troubles that had plagued him for the past four years. Easier to give it some sort of name that he could curse and hate.

Again he laughed, such strong words, curse and hate but that was the feeling and in some ways it wasn’t a bad description. He had lived with frustration for so long that there were moments were it felt like rage. Rage was an old friend, familiar and comfortable. He had never acted upon it and probably never would.

The closest he came was a heavy bag he kept in his garage. Sometimes at night he would slip into the garage and pound that bag into submission. Two hundred pounds of sand was supposed to keep it from moving, but it wasn’t enough. Johnny and his fists of fury would batter it repeatedly and after a while it would slowly start rocking and sliding around the garage floor.

That fists of fury line made him snort. It was a ridiculous description, but he needed it. He needed to find a way to keep dreaming and to keep believing that things would turn around. He needed to feel like there was hope.

Intellectually he understood that there was no question that things would change. He was an active participant in his life. He was working to make things happen. He analyzed his actions and adjusted so that he could optimize his performance.

But emotionally he was beat up and worn out. Emotionally he felt like he was the bag that had been battered. Emotionally he felt used up and torn apart and that made it harder to deal with the frustration and feelings like it just didn’t matter how hard he tried.

Someone told him that god never gives you more than you can handle and received a glare that forced them to turn and look away. At the time Johnny felt more like he had stolen fire from the gods and was being punished for it.

But there was sort of a grain of truth that he took from it, at least something that resonate with him. He was a dreamer. He was a man who had to believe that somehow he could live out his dreams and though it seemed impossible now, maybe it wouldn’t be later.

So he sighed again and stared out the window and told himself that if he put his head down and kept trudging forward it had to get better. One day he’d be on the other side, because he just couldn’t believe in anything else.

It Caused a Fight

Not so long ago I had to referee a fight between the children about the meaning of the word crotch. Or should I say that I explained that both boys and girls have crotches.

This led to more questions about anatomy. Ah, the innocence of children and their unflinching ability to share their observations with you, unadulterated and uncensored.

This Sounds Interesting

I have a gift card for Borders that I haven’t used yet. I might pick this up.

“He was 11 years old, riding in a Cessna in a blizzard through California’s San Gabriel Mountains in 1979, on his way to pick up a trophy he won in a skiing competition.

“The gray clouds were just pressing against the windows; it didn’t even seem like we were moving,” he recalls. “Then, there’s a limb reaching out of that fog and disappearing. Then another one and another one.

“Then realizing we were in the trees.”

The plane crash that followed killed his father and the pilot and badly wounded his father’s girlfriend, who with young Norman was tossed violently onto the top of an 8,600-foot mountain in the freezing, February chill.

“I felt three thuds. The third one must have knocked me cold,” says Ollestad, now 41. “I remember feeling those thuds in my spine — a clear memory of that. Then I woke up who knows how long after.”

The ensuing nine-hour, life-or-death descent — in the end, he was the only survivor — is the topic of “Crazy for the Storm: A Memoir of Survival.”

A Familiar Pain

Sometimes the most painful part of the day is the moment when I first become conscious that I am awake. Lucidity brings the realization that the other side of the bed is empty and the house is silent. The old familiar sounds of the shower running aren’t around. I don’t hear any activity in the kitchen or any rustling of papers.

No one comes to my side of the bed to kiss my face and tell me that it is time to get up. I don’t roll over and find dark eyes staring at me. No arms are wrapped around me. There are no moments of silent spooning where we hold each other and enjoy the bond.

Waking up is hard because in my dreams she is still there and we are still ensconced in our secret world. Now, it is gone and there is an empty hollow feeling.

Emitting a loud groan I roll out of bed. The second most painful part of the day takes place now. When the economy crashed I lost my job. Spent months looking for something, anything, but never did find anything steady. There was the occasional odd job that paid a couple of bucks, but nothing that I could rely upon to pay the bills.

As the savings dwindled and the bills piled upon I became more depressed and more despondent about my plight. It felt like no matter what I tried it was wrong. The harder I pushed the harder life pushed back. There is nothing like getting kicked in the balls unexpectedly, really takes your breath away, but not the way you want.

Good stuff, just great.

If you were here you’d see me shuffling through the house. I wasn’t exaggerating about this being the second most painful part of the day. The morning after a fight is always bad. It doesn’t matter whether I won or lost. Your body isn’t designed to take that sort of beating. Those aches and pains, the bruises and sore muscles are god’s way of punishing you for mistreating his property.

At least that is what Jimmy says. Can’t say that I really care whether it is true or not. And if it is true then I want to have words with God. I mean really, what the fuck is the deal with throwing your children around, just abandoning like this. So, truth is that I don’t believe and it really doesn’t matter because fighting pays the bills.

People can talk about how civilized we are. They can spend hours in their comfortable homes and talk wistfully about how barbaric society used to be. I have heard it. I have listened to their rambling diatribes about how bad the Romans used to be, how only animals stage fights etc. I know better.

Because the truth is that there are people paying to see guys like me climb into a ring and go at it. Unfortunately for us we are not fighting at the garden. There aren’t trainers and cut men or doctors waiting to help us between rounds.

All we have got is the ring and a bunch of guys who bet on us. I know, some of you think that you know about this. You have seen the movies and you think that there is some sort of syndicate the runs an underground fight ring. In the movies there is always a clear line between the good guy and the villain.

That is not what this is. This is a collection of guys who have slipped between the cracks. Some of us used to carry lunch boxes to work and some of us used to ask our assistants to order a sandwich from our favorite shop. Yep, some of us had expense accounts and lived that fancy sort of life you see or read about.

Now we are just numbers that the government reports as unemployed. There is no brotherhood or camaraderie among us, at least not as far as I am concerned. I don’t want to know anything about the other guy beyond whether he can take a punch. All I care about is getting in and getting out.

The crowd likes me because I can take a beating. Every time I get in the ring I pretend that I am part of some medieval battle. I am a knight protecting my castle. That little fiction is what allows me to keep throwing myself into the breach over and over. So far it has worked, but the real question is for how long.

Standing in front of the medicine cabinet I reach inside to grab another handful of Motrin. Bottle says two, but I say six is more like it. Anything less and I won’t hardly be able to move. In a little bit the edge will be taken off of the physical pain and all I’ll be left with is the familiar pain of her absence.

Music For My Morning, Except it is Evening

Seven Spanish Angels- Willie Nelson and Ray Charles
Always on My Mind- Willie Nelson
You Are Loved ‘Live’- Josh Groban
Bitter Sweet Symphony- The Verve
Jay-Z versus The Verve “Bittersweet Dirt Off Your Shoulder“- Some of you will love that and others will hate it.
Drop It Like It’s Hot- Snoop Dogg Kid parked in front of my house played that three times before I had enough.

I was tempted to move my stereo and blast him with some of the following:

Thunderstruck- AC/DC
For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)- AC/DC
Panama- Van Halen
Bulls On Parade – Rage Against The Machine
Phantom of the Opera – Iron Maiden ( Bit different from Andrew Lloyd Webber)
You’ve Got Another Thing Coming- Judas Priest

But I didn’t do any of those things. And now it is getting really late and I need to start winding down. But before I do here are some more songs from the day.

Californication-Red Hot Chili Peppers
Under the Bridge-Red Hot Chili Peppers
Around the World-Red Hot Chili Peppers
Start Me Up-Rolling Stones (why play this when I am ready for bed? Beats me.)
Loving Cup-Rolling Stones
Gimme Shelter- -Rolling Stones

Knockin on Heaven’s Door- Bob Dylan
lay lady lay- Bob Dylan

That’s enough for now.

He Tried To Forget Her

She was the one who came unsought and unseen into his life and turned it upside down. She was ready but he wasn’t and then he was ready and she wasn’t. It was an awkward dance of ups and downs and uncertainties. It was a time of change in many things and many places and it was never clear what was really going on.

And so they took a step back to look at their lives and to review what it was and what it was not. A seesaw is a great place for a child but not always as much fun for an adult and so it seemed that if they could not be then the best thing to do would be to walk away.

To walk away and say that if it was meant to be then somehow it would work out. He said it and he meant it but deep inside it never did take. Though he did his best to try and forget her there were always things to remind him that something was missing from his life.

It was a funny sort of realization because something had been missing from his life for a long time and her arrival in it had filled that spot. It was a hole that had been there for a long time, so long that he had become accustomed to its presence.

And when he realized that it had been filled he was excited and thrilled in all sorts of ways. There was real joy in the knowledge that someone could still do that to him because he had convinced himself that it could not and would not happen.

It is probably why her absence from his life was so difficult. Think of the stories of man stealing fire from the gods and what would happen if it was stolen back. A fundamental part of your life, part of the trunk of the tree was gone.

Loss is one of those funny thing. Sometimes you don’t appreciate what you have until it is gone. Sad, trite, but true.

And so he did his best to forget her. He found way to fill his days and when his thoughts drifted off he did his best to think of her negative traits. This proved to me moderately successful because though he could some up with a list he would find himself thinking about all of the good things.

It wasn’t a case of denial, just reality. That was the problem. He wasn’t romanticizing. He wasn’t ,pretending and that is in large part why it was so hard. Inside he knew. He just knew.

For now he can’t live with her and he can’t live without her. Though there is no doubt that he is capable and able of walking alone and living a life in which there is no engagement with her ever again he doesn’t really believe that to be the case. He doesn’t really think that this is how it will go.

Because he knows that some nights when he stares out at the moon and thinks about her she is thinking about him. Because he knows that somewhere she is fighting the same battle as he is, albeit in a different place.

It had a crazy start to it, their relationship. But if there is one simple truth that they learned it was that the kiss that they used to kid around about was true. One simple kiss and it was all over.

One kiss that made it clear that sometimes there really are two people who belong together because they have what it takes to complete each other. One kiss made the impossible turn into the improbable and set off hope for the future.

So in his quiet moments of frustration he may curse the day that it happened he silently gives it his blessing. And he smiles at the moon and looks out at the sky and waits for a day that he hopes will come sooner than later.

Sometimes it is no more complicated than saying a boy loves a girl and a girl loves a boy and all that they ask for is the chance to somehow share that love.

Dreams of a future built upon hope and a memory. Fragments of a life that could have been built together and may still yet be are seen through the mist. Because if he can’t forget her than what else can he do.

Bob Woodward on Investigative Journalism

Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band Movie

If you are of a certain age you might remember this movie. Kind of an interesting cast:

George Burns
Peter Frampton
The BeeGees
Aerosmith
Alice Cooper
Leif Garret- Some of you girls had his poster on your wall, fess up.

Decisions…Decisions…Decisions

Come Back- Moshav

For the past three days or so I have been meaning to write this post, or at least try to write it. It hasn’t happened for a variety of reasons. A little thing called life has prevented me from getting into it.

Family and work obligations and chores around the house have all conspired against me and the blog. Responsibilities and major questions have been dogging me, nipping at my heels and forcing me to confront challenges that I had been putting off.

I hadn’t avoided them because of fear but because the smart way to do things is to see that you have laid the groundwork and prepared for whatever you are taking on. Yet I hate having things hang over me. I feel the weight of these decisions dragging me down. It is like a thousand hands pulling on whatever part of my body they can grab, yanking and tugging on me.

So I try to shrug them off. At first it is kind of a gentle shrug, but as I grow more agitated the shrugging grows more forceful. The vein on my forehead juts out, a sign to those who know me that now is the not the time to fight with me.

**********

Don’t Give Up- Willie Nelson & Sinead O’Connor

I love that song for a lot of reasons, the lyrics speak to me. The opening fits with my mood and my thoughts nicely:

“In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail”

The fighter inside never quits. It doesn’t matter how many shots to the head or body blows he takes, he keeps moving, keeps fighting. Tenacity and determination and a fire that never stops burning keep pushing me.

But the reality is that there are moments of doubt and times when I question it all. The failure that the younger version of me feared has come, more than once now. The difference now is how I view failure. I no longer obsess about what it means.

That’s one of the advantages of age and life experience. I can look at the few times where things just didn’t work out and view them as battles and not as the summation of an entire war. Now I try to use those moments as lessons, a road map that can be used to avoid similar pitfalls.

If I said that I didn’t care about failing it would be a lie. No one really likes it and I am no exception. It is a bitter taste that I’d sooner forget. But survival is a reminder that challenges can be overcome and that is a lesson that has value.

**********

“No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
Ive changed my face, Ive changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose”

Stepping back into the muck I have no problem admitting that there have been moments where it seems that last quote is an apt description that hits closer to home than I’d like.

(Author’s note: I probably should move that last quote and accompanying line to a different section so that post would flow better. But moving it feels wrong, because sometimes the pieces don’t fit neatly.)

Haveil Havalim 223 – Hot and Humid Edition

My buddy Snoopy has the scoop. Go read it and see what is going on around the Jewish/Israeli blogosphere:

Haveil Havalim 223 – Hot and Humid Edition

80s Dance Videos

These are so bad that I had to link to them, just painful.

The Thriller
The Robot

Age Is Just A Number….Right…

Age is just a number, right. That is what they say. It is all about your state of mind and right now my mind is covering more than a few states. Maybe I should blame it on The London Symphony and their version of The Final Countdown.

Yeah, that is the ticket. Think that I’ll switch to The Moody Blues Nights in White Satin or Tuesday Afternoon and follow it up with Layla. Not that any of it matters, it is just a way of avoiding the topic of age. Or rather my way of saying that I am still adjusting to turning 40.

Yep, it bothers me a bit, not so much the number itself but the guy I see in the mirror. I close my eyes and I picture myself and I see the body that I used to have. It is hard, stomach is cut and the muscles ripple as I move. Bruises, aches and pains are things that happen periodically, but they don’t last long enough to be noticeable.

Sleep is something that I stumble upon every once in a while, but I don’t seem to notice a lack of it. And let’s not forget a very forgiving metabolism.

But that was then and this is now. Now the face that looks back at me is clearly older, no one ever mistakes me for being twenty something. And that is perfectly fine with me. I don’t care about that. A few lines in my face and a little less hair aren’t issues.

What I am fighting are the other things that have come along with the age. It is so much harder to stay in shape. I am certainly thicker in places than I used to be and the bruises, aches and pains visit me frequently and stay longer than they used to. I suppose that some of the elasticity of tendons, ligaments and joints has disappeared.

If the body is a classic car than it is a daily battle to maintain a clean interior and exterior. The fight to polish it is just never ending and I can understand how some people just let it all slip away.

Inertia.

Battling inertia is tough. It takes a lot of hard work and enormous discipline to do what needs to be done so that the motor runs the way that you want it to. And it is a battle that can be incredibly frustrating.

I have changed my exercise regimen and begun incorporating new elements that seem be yielding big dividends, but still one challenge remains.

Diet.

I hate that damn word. Diet- there is a reason why “die” is part of diet and it is not positive. Ok, I shouldn’t be negative, you’re right. But damn, I like to eat. Why must the foods I like the most be so problematic.

But I look in the mirror and I am not satisfied. I don’t have to be the 20 year old I used to be. I earned these wrinkles and scars and I am ok with that.

I suppose that what I am really saying is that I am not willing to accept a body that doesn’t respond better than this one does. I am not that old, not yet. There is no reason for some of this.

Confession time. One of the things that scares me is that at some point in time my body just won’t work anymore. I can accept many things, but I can’t accept that. So here I am with my basketball games, my weights and my kettlebells trying to do something to prevent that.

I can’t guarantee that I won’t ever have to deal with that, but with a little preventative maintenance maybe I can stave it off for about 68 years. And now if you’ll excuse me I have to go stretch. Sitting in front of this has given rise to a kink in my back that is killing me.

But what do I care, because age is just a number…right

Jerusalem Is Calling

There once was a woman in my life who would debate and discuss the biggest and most minute details of my life. And were she in the room with me she would shake her head, wag her finger and then roll her eyes at this description. It wouldn’t surprise me if we’d get into a long talk about which one of us is/was crazier and whose philosophy of life makes more sense.

But that is what happens when you deal with the short and illogical half of the species, the ones that by virtue of gender are reality challenged. For those keeping score I have taken more than one and less than ten swipes at her, but they are all done with love and a smile on my face. Not to mention an iTunes soundtrack in the background.

Anyhoo, the paragraphs above do relate to the post because the theme here is about dreams of the past, dreams of the present and dreams of the future.

Dreams of the past refers to lost loves. Not every lost love is about a relationship between a boy and a girl. Some of them tie into hobbies or activities that we used to engage in on a regular basis. For example, I used to spend about two hours a day in the gym. I loved it and wish that life would give me the opportunity to do it again.

In respect to this post I sometimes find myself thinking about Jerusalem, memories of a time and a place that has never left me. Memories that extend from being a teenager into my married life. Faces, places and names float through the sky and a feeling that I can’t possibly describe as anything but love comes over me.

I can give you a list of reasons why. I can tell you about the advantages that speaking multiple languages present, how a person can describe events and experiences differently in each language. I can talk about the sadness/frustration about losing your ability to effectively communicate in a different tongue.

Or I can talk about how I was certain that I was going to make aliyah and discussions I had about what it would be like in the army. But while some of these discussions make good blog fodder and could be interesting, I am not interested in going over that now.

That dream has passed and I won’t ever know what it would have meant to my life. A twenty something American has different dreams and different possibilities than a kid who just turned forty.

But the thing is that though some dreams may pass it doesn’t mean that we have to lay down and die or that it should kill other dreams. It doesn’t mean that one day I won’t find myself living in Israel or that I won’t find myself living out other dreams.

I can’t say what will happen in ten years or in five. It is hard to predict what will happen in two. So for now I am focused on my plan and doing all that is within my power to make it happen. In the interim there are a lot of chances to visit those dreams, to touch upon them and get a reminder of the reasons we chase them.

Part of what drives and enables me to get out of the bed is the knowledge that I can still live my dreams. I don’t have to give up on everything. I don’t have to accept a life that is less than what I dream it can be.

I don’t and I won’t.

Jerusalem is calling and so are my other dreams. All I need to do is figure out how to make them into something more than a gleam in my eye.

The Problem With Iran

The problem with Iran is not something that can be summed up in a few words. It doesn’t fit into an age of sound bites and instant gratification. This is not going to be a heavy analysis that you’d submit for academic acclaim.

No, this is just a little window inside my head where I air out the dust and share a few thoughts with you.

I live in Los Angeles. It is a city that has a substantial population of Persian Jews as well as many Iranians who identify as Muslim or members of Bahai. And they have been here for a long time now. I remember the heavy influx of Persian Jews who fled Iran after the fall of the Shah, roughly 30 years ago.

My family has had many Persian friends for years and so I have had time to hear many stories about what life in Iran was like and much about what it is like now. Don’t misunderstand me, I am not claiming to be an expert, just trying to provide some foundation for my thoughts.

For years now I have heard about the influence of the mullahs and the ideology that they are pressing. I have Persian friends who remember school in Iran, chanting “Death to Israel” and “Death to America.”

Clearly not all Iranians have bought into the line of thought that the government is passing. Clearly there are many who long for a different path. But the reality is that this is not two hundred years ago. It is not a time of log cabins and muskets. It is not a time when you could hire a world power as a mercenary force (some will argue that point) so you can’t fight for revolution in the same way as was once done.

Now you have the quandary of dealing with an oppressive government who is far better armed and organized than the populace, at least that is the appearance. More importantly, the government is not there to protect the people. They are there to maintain their positions of power.

And they are willing to do so by using disproportionate force and extreme violence. The reports that are getting out make it clear that they are not slapping people on the wrist.

So what do you do about this. How does the world respond to such a thing. Ahmedinajad and company are not going to step down without being forced out. And it is highly unlikely that any sort of military operation is going to be launched with the intent of ousting them.

It is one of those moments where you wonder if perhaps there are senior members of the Iranian armed forces who would be willing to lead a coup d’etat, assuming that they had the support of the troops. But this seems rather unlikely.

So we come back to the question of what do we do. What sort of support can be provided to help support a real revolution and an overthrow of the existing government.

And again we have to note that a government that treats its citizenry like this would be exceptionally dangerous as a nuclear power. Can that still be stopped, or have we reached a point of no return.

Many questions, no good answers.

Inspired By Michael Jackson

Figured that if I sifted through the archives we’d find a few posts that are due to Michael Jackson’s influence:

Spontaneous Subway Dancing (A “Thriller” moment)
Phillipine Justice (Another “Thriller” moment)
Thriller With Legos
Michael Jackson : Thriller : Indian Style

And as a special bonus those wacky inmates are back:

The Fall

When I arrived at the crossroads I had no idea that I would tumble over the side. The fall sent me careening down the hill with no idea when I would hit bottom.

(Fragments of Fiction post- will be added to throughout the day.

The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants

Originally run here

Someone once told me that the heart wants what the heart wants. I don’t know if that is a line from a book or a movie, it could be. Then again it might be one of those pithy statements that people come up with. I’d ask the person who told me but I can quite remember who said it. Hell, it might have even been
me.

The heart wants what the heart wants. You know what that means? It is a statement made by people who can’t explain why they are in love with person xyz. It is what you say when there is no logical explanation for your actions. It is a catchphrase, a tagline, a slogan and a motto.

The heart wants what the heart wants. It reminds me of Shakespeare, “Life is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing.” Somewhere my high school English teacher Mrs. McDonnell is smiling. Little Jimmy actually remembered a line from Macbeth. See ma’am, I told you that I could hear just as well in sunglasses as without..

The heart wants what the heart wants. It is the kind of thing you hear people say when they are trying to explain why they are hung up on someone from their past. Or maybe it is what you say when you stop denying the love that is in front of you.

If love were rational, if it were based upon logic life would be easier. When I think about some of the things I have done because of love I want to scream. When I consider the self-inflicted misery I have endured I want to cry because it seems so very foolish. How could I waste so much energy on such a silly thing as a woman, a single woman. The world is filled with millions of women. It should be easy to replace her. It should be as simple as changing shoes, but it is not. It is not, it is not.

The heart wants what the heart wants. It does and mine has chosen someone that is far more special to me than all of the others. My lips remember hers. I can still feel her touch. The pillowcase has never been washed because I have this fantasy that I can still pull it close and smell her.

Sometimes I think that reincarnation must be real and that in a past life I must have stolen fire from the gods or committed some other heinous crime. Because there is no logical reason why I would be punished in this manner. I found the woman that completes me. I found the person that makes me whole and I let her go.

She would have stayed. She would have held my hand. She would have helped save my soul but I couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t make myself do it. Even though I knew it to be a simple thing. A brief plea for help and she wouldn’t have left me. I wouldn’t have been left to live in shadow and night. I could have been whole. Her love was enough to let me believe that I could have been something more.

But like I said, in that past life I did something. I earned the wrath of those who sit in judgment. Or maybe it is nothing like that. Maybe there is no reason why. Maybe this is all there is and happiness is based upon some sort of random something or other.

The heart wants what it wants and mine has betrayed me. In a different life it lay in a green garden beneath bright blue skies and now it is filled with weeds and fields of shattered stone and black night skies.

Once I might have hoped for salvation. Once I believed that I deserved better than this but now I understand that not to be so. Hades has issued his decree. I stand next to Sisyphus. Tantalus is my brother. Happiness is something that I can see but can’t reach.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

Coming Soon

Hang around a few and you’ll see a few new posts. I have a Johnny and June floating inside the old melon, a comment or two about social media and the MSM and a few others.

Michael Jackson

Facebook Follies- Too Many Notifications

It is time for another edition of Facebook Follies, the blog posts that provide you with the key information you need to become a master of Facebook.

Ok, that is an exaggeration. Most of these Facebook posts are commentary about it, but some of them do include practical information. Take what you will from them.

Anyhoo, let’s move on and talk about Facebook Notifications. Many of us have friends who use Facebook extensively throughout the day. They take every quiz that comes along and publish the results filling our news feed with all sorts of useful information about what state they should live in, what kind of fruit/animal/superhero they are and so much more.

I don’t know about you, but I find it to be a bit tedious, tiresome and obnoxious. To be fair, I have to admit that I use a couple of Facebook apps that send out notifications. However, I try to do a couple of things to mitigate the ensuing the mess.

1) When I remember I turn off the notifications because not everyone needs to know or see that the state of Ohio has begged me to come for a visit.

2) I go through my profile and delete entries. A little cleanup of the clutter goes a long way.

3) I use lists. I have my Facebook friends divided into groups and have the privacy settings adjusted accordingly. Not everyone gets to see everything that is listed there.

Let me be clear, I don’t post things that I want to be kept secret. I assume that anything that goes up can be seen by anyone. It doesn’t mean that it will be, but it provides structure and that is useful.

Still, there is no reason to give everyone full access. There are people that I friend that do not need to know or see some things. If it happens that they stumble upon them that is one thing, but I don’t have to make it easy for them.

Let’s circle back to notifications as that is really the main point of this piece. You know who you are. You who update your account seventeen times an hour and take every quiz. You are cluttering up our feeds with nonsense and gibberish. We may love you dearly, but we don’t always need to have the knowledge that if you were a tree you’d be a Buckeye or what your birthstone says about you.

Sometimes silence is golden.

Michael Jackson

There are a number of reports that Michael Jackson has died. Blogs and Twitter are all buzzing way with news of his death, but I have yet to see report on the MSM confirming that he has died.

However, there are many reports of his having suffered a heart attack.

This gives me an idea for a blog post that I’ll probably write later on.

In the interim here are links to some of his old stuff:

Thriller
Beat It
Billie Jean
Bad

Musical Morning

Ring of Fire- Johnny Cash & Willie Nelson
Folsom Prison Blues- Johnny Cash & Willie Nelson
Homeward Bound- Paul Simon & Willie Nelson
Don’t Give Up- Willie Nelson & Sinead O’Connor (who thought that you’d see this pairing)
Don’t Give Up- Peter Gabriel with Kate Bush
Everything I own- Bread (Oh those 70s.)
Relay- The Who
Love Reign Over Me- The Who
“How Soon Is Now?” The Smiths
“It’s Been A While“-Staind

And Then He Died

Three years ago I stood in the emergency room of the hospital and listened to the doc explain that my grandfather had died. And then I went to the room in which his body lay and say with him. I wrote about that moment in The Bearer of Bad Tidings- One Less Set of Footsteps.

Two thoughts come to mind about that post. I can’t read it without choking up a little. It is raw and it captured the moment so well that three years later I still feel it. But I was and still am very appreciative of the comments. It was one of those moments where I knew without a doubt that the blogosphere is a real community.

It is hard to believe that three years have gone by, especially when I think about all that has happened. Some of the hardest and most challenging moments of my life lie before me and I sorely miss his advice and support. I would have liked to have been able to discuss some of this with him.

He would have listened and shared some thoughts. Chances are he would have told me a story or two. I never got tired of them. Grandpa was a very fine storyteller. He did an excellent job of painting a picture that you could see.

In my mind’s eye I have a million images of the Chicago of his youth and the things that he did. It is not hard to imagine what life in the carnival business was like, winters in New Orleans or the things that he did in the army.

He would have taken so much pleasure from his great-grandchildren. It makes me a little sad that the dark haired beauty has completely forgotten him. Sure, she knows his name and recognizes his picture, but she doesn’t remember him. She doesn’t remember how he came to the hospital the day she was born and held her or how he told me that it was ok to make sure that her boyfriends were afraid of me.

So many good memories and so many stories to tell. He took me to my first Dodger game. Taught me how to throw a punch and told me that if I hit someone to make sure that I was ready to take what came afterwards.

When I was learning how to drive he took me out, had me drive back and forth through Laurel Canyon and around Farmer’s Market. There were movies and lunches and so much more.

One of my favorite memories comes from my sister’s wedding. I wrote about it in a post, but I can’t remember exactly where. I really should find it because it is a great story and it deserves to be told properly.

A handful of years later I find myself visiting my grandfather at the hospital. We’re exchanging stories and he is filling me in on his health. He tells me that if he had known that he was going to live so long he would have taken better care of himself. I tell him that I am sure that he is going to be around another twenty years.

He shakes his head and tells me no. He is serious and he looks me in the eye and says that he knows that the finish line can’t be that far away. Tells me that he is going to fight for every breath and that if there is a such a thing as the angel of death, he is going to kick the crap out of him.

I laugh and ask him how. He smiles and tells me that he’ll punch him in the nose and that when the tears well up in the angel’s eyes he’ll slip out the door. We both laugh at this and then we are silent.

A few minutes later he closes his eyes to go to sleep and I look around the room. Beeps and whistles and the whirring noises of various machines are all that I can hear. I move closer and am comforted to hear him breathing peacefully.

Not so long afterwards I am alone in a hospital room with him. This time there is no peaceful breathing, no snoring. Although his hands are still warm I know that in a short time they won’t be any longer.

For a moment I stare at his body and inside my head I can hear someone say, “and then he died.”

You might also be interested in these posts:

Pictures, Videos and Memories
My Grandfather Laid Tefillin
The Challenge of Aging
The World’s Fastest 95 Year-Old Man
Passing The Baton- Grandma is 94
Not Quite Goodbye- And Some other Thoughts

This Weeks Sign of The Apocalyse

This Weeks Sign of The Apocalyse comes from our friends at Haaretz who report the following:

Is Britney Spears set to star in a Holocaust movie?

“Is American mega pop star Britney Spears set to return to the big screen, seven years after starring in the box office flop Crossroads? According to reports, Spears has been offered a part in the upcoming Holocaust film The Yellow Star of Sophia and Eton, which integrates time travel, concentration camps and a love story.

If she accepts the role, Spears will be taking on the title role of Sophia LaMont, a woman who invents a time machine and succeeds in traveling to the time of the Second World War. According to the script, LaMont ends up at a concentration camp and falls in love with a Jewish prisoner named Eton. However, the budding love story is cut short when both are killed by the Nazis.”

I can’t decide what I like best about this. Britney will be perfect as a genius who invents a time machine that just happens to take her back to WWII so that she can be incarcerated in a concentration camp, fall in love and be killed by the Nazis.

Rumor has it that this film will be followed up by a blockbuster history piece about David Ben Gurion and Golda Meir starring media giants Perez and Paris Hilton respectively.

Oh and did I mention that Spielberg is negotiating with me for the rights to produce a feature film about my life. Stay tuned because in this wacky world anything can happen.

Crossposted on Yourish.

Living The Bachelor Life

I am man, hear me roar. Watch as I burp and scratch and revert back to my bachelor life. The family is as they say….Gone!

Here I sit at the computer, unshaved and unwashed. There are a couple of dishes in the sink and newspapers spread across the table. Last night I stayed up well past the witching hour and thoroughly enjoyed the silence and the solitude of my man cave.

I woke up this morning sans alarm, wife and children. In other words I woke up as nature intended. For a moment I wondered if it was all a dream and then I remembered that it wasn’t. With a yawn, a stretch and a big smile I rolled out of the bed and strolled through the house.

The quiet, oh, the blessed quiet.

I paused and looked around and smiled. It won’t be long before I miss the chaos and the racket. It won’t be long before it is almost too quiet, but for now I am doing my happy dance around this joint.

Truth is that it is not particularly messy or cluttered. I don’t like that much, but I don’t have to be the role model so I don’t have to do it all immediately. I don’t have to do anything that I do not want to do.

For a while I was tempted to get in the car and go somewhere. Last night around midnight I played with thoughts of going to Vegas. A short while ago there was no one who could play, but now that life has happened and some of the boys are single possibilities exist.

So at a few minutes past 12 I called and asked if was up for a road trip. I had a full tank of gas and offered to drive. He laughed and told me that he wanted to, but had to be at a dinner meeting today.

I said no problem and he laughed again. He believed that I could get us there and back in time for the meeting, but said that he didn’t think he’d be rested enough for the meeting.

And that my friends is the difference between who we were twenty years ago and who we are now.

Of course I should stipulate that I considered the state of my personal economy and remembered that Obama and company haven’t offered to bail me out. But I’d be lying if I didn’t think about how time at the blackjack table could solve that. With a little luck and a short run I could provide my own bailout.

Maybe next time.

Instead I consoled myself by playing Viva Las Vegas while writing a brief and sending out 1,876,993 emails for work. And then for good measure I wrote three posts that I immediately deleted.

And now I sit here, staring at the computer screen, wondering whether I feel like cooking or barbecuing my dinner. It is summer in LA and in a short time the weather will be perfect for dining outdoors.

All I have to say is that some days it is good to be a man.

Who Invented Balloons

Here at The Shack we are constantly in search of useful information and answers to the questions you wish that you could ask. If we do our job properly you’ll dominate Trivial Pursuit and be a force to reckon with on Jeopardy. Can’t promise that you’ll be able to use this information to be Macgyver or Roy Hinckley, but who knows.

Today we decided to spend some time talking about balloons. No, not the hot air kind, but party balloons. So we searched high and low on the web and discovered that a number of sources say that Michael Faraday is responsible for the invention of the balloon. Yes, the same Faraday who discovered electromagnetic induction is the man to thank. (Editor’s Note: If you are doing a school report double check this information, the Shack isn’t really designed to be in your bibliography.)

However, there are other sources that say that there are challengers to Faraday. If you head over to Beermasters you’ll see that the Aztecs made good use of their cats:

“The first use of balloons at a festive event dates to the Aztecs, whose empire in central Mexico was from the 14th through 16th centuries. Their balloons were not the fun-colored latex or Mylar one sees today, however. Their balloons were made of cat guts. Feline intestines were sewn together, filled with air and then twisted into funky shapes–as if an inflated mass made from cat guts wasn’t funky enough.

Function

Aztecs placed their balloons at the altar during festivals and ceremonies as an offering for the gods. They may have wanted good luck, a victory in battle or any number of other wishes that the sacrificial balloons would help bring. They may have even asked for more guts to make more balloons. If a large batch of cats were diseased and dying, the Aztecs sacrificed humans and used their intestines as balloons to ask for more cat intestines.”

Balloon Headquarters has similar information as well as information on the art of Balloon Modeling, in fact if you go there you can find out about The National Association of Balloon Artists (NABA) and the International Balloon Association (IBA). In fact you can even read about T&JAM 1999 – The convention dedicated to balloon twisters.

Don’t forget to take a look at the photos.

Who says that we are full of hot air.

Goodbye Ed

CNN reports that Ed McMahon has died. It has some interesting information. I was unaware that he served as a Marine in WWII andKorea.

What Are You Doing In There

The dark haired beauty looks up at me through a mass of dark curls and giggles. She is up to something, I know it and she knows that I know it. The key question is what has she done and why are her eyes sparkling.

I won’t have to wait long for the answer. In a matter of moments she’ll be unable to contain herself and she’ll confess. I already know from experience it is unlikely to be serious because when she thinks she is in trouble she remains silent. Of course her older brother is usually happy to try and tip me off, getting the little sister in trouble remains one of the joys of being an older sibling.

Of course it goes both directions as she is more than happy to try and tweak his nose. They are typical siblings and exhibit the standard behavior of love/hate for each other. Most of the time they get along beautifully, but they have their moments. Ah, the joy of children.

*********************

Sometimes when those moments come I find myself asking questions that many parents ask, such as why didn’t I wear 19 condoms or if I leave now can I be in Vegas before nightfall. A half second later reality sets in and I go to the second set of options.

That famous second set which consists of wondering how long I let them try to work it out before I get involved and if I get involved, how many years will I ground them for.

It is a serious thing. You have to teach them how to cope when things don’t go the way that they want. You have to help them learn how to share and negotiate their way through life. So when I wonder how long I need to wait before interceding there is an educational component to it. But there is also the question of my sanity.

How long can I listen to them kvetching at each other. And of course the joy of having a home office is that during the summer you have substantially more exposure to the joys of your life.

*********************

Sometimes if you are me you have also adopted a strategy of heading off to the second office. You can blame this on having watched Happy Days as a kid. Fonzie always took Ritchie into the bathroom and we all know that he was the coolest guy ever, at least until he jumped the shark.

Anyhoo, there have been some occasions when I have opted to answer the call of nature during these little dust ups. And upon occasion inquiries have been made as to whether I really was busy or not as it seemed far too convenient for me to be in there at moment.

I of course have always offered to provide proof and was always turned down, until recently. That dark haired beauty decided that she wanted to see for herself. Standing outside the door, she asks me to open it so that she can see for herself. I pause for a moment and suggest that she find something else to do.

Without missing a beat she tells me that she is almost five and besides she has seen boys go to the bathroom before. So I open the door and just as I am about to tell her what I think about all that she starts laughing because she knows that she has gotten me.

Then for good measure she steps inside, sniffs the air and proclaims, “it doesn’t stink in here, you are just hiding from us.”

And people ask me why I am losing my hair.

DNA Testing Reveals Our True Relatives

This story about personal DNA testing is quite interesting. I know a few people who are doing this. Take a look at this excerpt:

“Take Cezary Fudali, a 41-year-old business and securities lawyer living in Ottawa, Ontario. He has always been drawn to books about Israel and Middle Eastern architecture. But it wasn’t until he turned to his own family history that he began to see a connection between his intellectual curiosity and his own life.

Through an Internet ancestry site, he met a cousin from New Jersey who asked him if he knew his mother was adopted. Fudali was shocked. She told him that in the summer of 1943, during World War II, his maternal grandparents passed through a train station in Rozwadow, Poland, where they met a poor woman who begged them to take her child. Miraculously, his grandparents took the baby home and raised her as their own. His mother, who still lives in Poland, never knew she was adopted until her son heard this story, and his great aunt confirmed it. His mother still doesn’t believe the story is true.

Fudali, however, got some convincing evidence in 2003, when his ancestry research led him to a company called Family Tree DNA, one of a number of new companies selling cheek-swab tests that reveal genetic origins through mitochondrial DNA, a type of DNA inherited from one’s mother. Fudali, who was born into a rather typical Polish family in Warsaw in 1967—his father was Catholic by birth, but called himself an atheist—took the DNA test and was shocked to find he fell into a group called H-6A1, which is DNA that has only been found among Eastern European, Moroccan, Algerian, and Turkish Jews. Fudali concluded that his mother was of Judaic origins, and this information led him to believe that the woman who had given up her baby was most probably a Jew trying to save her daughter from the Nazis.

In 2006, a group of scientists discovered that 40 percent of the world’s Ashkenazi Jews could now be traced back to four women—two years later, a team of geneticists at universities in England and Spain discovered through Y chromosome testing that 20 percent of the population of the Iberian Penisula has Sephardic Jewish ancestry. A large majority of these hidden genetic Jews had converted to Catholicism during the Spanish Inquisition, and many had migrated to Italy.”

Hat Tip to: Rabbi Fink

Star Trek Operetta

Hat Tip: Rubicon3

The Best of Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere

It is Haveil Havalim time. Take a moment to check out the latest edition of the Best of the Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere. You can find the latest edition right here.

My Cover Letter

(This is a copy of the cover letter I send out when I am looking for work)

Dear Hiring Manager,

If you are need in of adding to the mediocrity of your department and want someone who can fill a cubicle than I might be the right person for the job.

Most days I’ll come in somewhere close to our agreed upon starting time. I’ll slowly make my way to my desk and then collapse in my seat where I’ll spend precious moments building a paper clip necklace or staring aimlessly at the calendar.

While I wait for my computer to boot up I’ll head over to the kitchen because you can’t really expect me to start working without a cup of coffee. With any luck Jim or Sue will have had the good sense to bring in some donuts because a day at the office without a donut just isn’t the same.

Eventually I’ll make my way back to my desk to begin my day. But before I get started I’ll have to check my Facebook account and see if any of my friends have put up any funny jokes that I can steal and claim for my own.

Besides I learned in business school that happy employees are far more productive than unhappy ones. Or maybe I read that on one of those Facebook quizzes. You know I took one that told me that told me that this position is the perfect job for me which is another reason why you should hire me.

Anyway, I hope that your company offers a lot of breaks. I read online that some countries in Europe have a mandate that every employee be given at least two hours of nap time. Some of them even require that companies allow them to bring their pets to work or pay extra for doggie daycare.

When you call me for my interview please make sure that it is not before ten am or you’ll wake me up. Oh, and don’t call after five because that is when I like to go to the gym. Can’t wait to hear from you and tell you why I am going to be your next employee.

Sincerely,

Jack B

The Wiggles Don’t Play Here Anymore

The end of the school year has finally arrived and as promised my children were given instructions to go through their toys and figure out what they want to hold on to and what they can give away. The dark haired beauty put her hands on her hips and and glared at me for having the temerity to ask her to help cut down on clutter.

All it took was one a glare and a step towards her room to spur her into action. She understands that though I may be thoroughly in love with her I am in complete control of my actions. Manipulation only takes place when the old man is willing to allow it.

And as Father’s Day is around the corner it is nice to know that my glare is continuing to improve. Perhaps I’ll try it on my old man and see if it works. It will be a battle of two jedi masters. Ok, who am I kidding, those icy blues of his are more effective than mine, or maybe it is that whole kabed et evecha thing. Who knows.

Anyhoo, as the kids went through their stuff they brought it over and and built a small pile of things that they said that they were happy to give away. As I looked at the pile I saw that there was a Wiggles coloring book on the top. I imagine that I must have had a wistful smile on my face. It seems like yesterday that The Wiggles were a treasured favorite.

But those days are gone, The Wiggles do not play here anymore.

Truth is that they disappeared a long time ago. So long ago that I truly have to think about how long ago it was. Her big brother was a dyed in the wool fan of the Aussies. For a while, a long while the house was consistently filled with the sounds of their songs and or videos. Sometimes I would catch myself at work singing about Fruit Salad or the Big Red Car.

And then one day he decided that he was done with them and they dropped off of his list. But the dark haired beauty has no bigger hero than her brother so she kept up the tradition…for a while. She never did want to watch the videos the way that he did. In part that was because she found Dora, a girl, far more interesting.

Still she would play their CD and dance around to their music, but that ended too. Again, I can’t really say when. It just kind of fizzled out and faded away.

Now that she has graduated from preschool she is interested in big girl pursuits, this she has made clear.

Earlier tonight she asked me to open her nail polish so that she could make herself my beautiful princess. I smiled and told her that she is always my beautiful princess. She smiled and told me that she could be even more beautiful if I opened the bottle. And then for good measure she offered to draw me pretty pictures every day.

Lord help us all when she really figures out how to negotiate. Anyway, I bent over and kissed her forehead and told her to go brush her teeth. She started to try to negotiate again and I gave her a look and that ended it.

As she walked away I looked at her and thought about how big she has gotten and sighed. The Wiggles Don’t Play Here Anymore.

Scenes from a mall

Two guys arguing about Kobe and LeBron. I look at them and ask if they know the real difference between them.

“Four championships”

Murder- He Said That He Is Going To Kill Me

This is not something that I have made up.

I just received the following threatening email from someone called Mustafa Babar. Good to know that I am being targeted by a man named after an elephant who is the beloved protagonist of children’s books.

ATTN.

LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY ,THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN CONTACT
YOU, my TEAM HAS BEEN PAID TO ASSASINATE YOU, I HAVE EVERY REASON TO
CARRY OUT THE CONTRACT,BUT I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE AND SAVE YOUR FAMILY THIS PAIN,THIS YOUR ALTERNATIVE,I WISH TO HELP YOU UNLESS YOU
DONT WANT TO HELP YOUR SELF,I WILL SEND YOU ENOUGH EVIDENCE YOU NEED ON A VIDEO TAPE RECORD
TO NAIL MY EMPLOYER DOWN WITH THE LAW.

BEFORE THAT YOUR REQUIRED TO MAKE AVAILABLE THE SUM OF $70,000. USD,
AFTER WHICH I WILL DIRECT YOU ON WHAT TO DO NEXT TO SAVE YOUR SELF AND
YOUR FAMILY FROM THIS PAIN THAT WOULD HAVE BEFALLED YOU FROM MY
EMPLOYER,THE MONEY WILL BE USED TO SETTLE THE TEAM MEN INVOLVED TO GO
BACK TO THERE DESTINATIONS AND YOU BETTER KEEP THIS INFORMATION TO
YOUR SELF BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW WHO IS WHO WHERE YOU ARE NOW,IF HE
FINDS OUT I HAVE BETRAYED HIM TRYING TO HELP YOU,YOU WILL HAVE YOUR
SELF TO BLAME, I HAVE ORDERED MY MEN TO SATY AWAY FROM YOU.

DO WE HAVE A DEAL OR NOT ?

NOTE: YOU HAVE TWO OPTIONS HERE, (1)YOU HAVE TO GET HIM ARRESTED WITH
THE INFORMATION I WILL GIVE YOU AFTER THE PAYMENT OR ( 2)YOU HAVE HIM
KILLED TO SAVE YOUR SELF.

I WILL VISIT YOUR HOUSE AGAIN BUT NOT NOW,MY BOYS EYES ARE ON YOU SO
GET BACK TO ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

Here is my response to the email address he provided, mustaphababar009@yahoo.com.cn

Dear Mustapha,

Though I suspect that this may be a scam I have passed along your information to the F.B.I. and local law enforcement as I do not take threats on my life lightly. They should be visiting you in the very near future at which point in time you’ll gain a new residence.

But on the very slim chance that you are serious about this allow me to confirm that any assault on myself or my family will be met with a swift and severe response. Understand that this is a guarantee and not a promise.

-Jack

Murder- He Said That He Is Going To Kill Me

This is not something that I have made up.

I just received the following threatening email from someone called Mustafa Babar. Good to know that I am being targeted by a man named after an elephant who is the beloved protagonist of children’s books.

ATTN.

LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY ,THIS IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN CONTACT
YOU, my TEAM HAS BEEN PAID TO ASSASINATE YOU, I HAVE EVERY REASON TO
CARRY OUT THE CONTRACT,BUT I DECIDED TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE AND SAVE YOUR FAMILY THIS PAIN,THIS YOUR ALTERNATIVE,I WISH TO HELP YOU UNLESS YOU
DONT WANT TO HELP YOUR SELF,I WILL SEND YOU ENOUGH EVIDENCE YOU NEED ON A VIDEO TAPE RECORD
TO NAIL MY EMPLOYER DOWN WITH THE LAW.

BEFORE THAT YOUR REQUIRED TO MAKE AVAILABLE THE SUM OF $70,000. USD,
AFTER WHICH I WILL DIRECT YOU ON WHAT TO DO NEXT TO SAVE YOUR SELF AND
YOUR FAMILY FROM THIS PAIN THAT WOULD HAVE BEFALLED YOU FROM MY
EMPLOYER,THE MONEY WILL BE USED TO SETTLE THE TEAM MEN INVOLVED TO GO
BACK TO THERE DESTINATIONS AND YOU BETTER KEEP THIS INFORMATION TO
YOUR SELF BECAUSE YOU DONT KNOW WHO IS WHO WHERE YOU ARE NOW,IF HE
FINDS OUT I HAVE BETRAYED HIM TRYING TO HELP YOU,YOU WILL HAVE YOUR
SELF TO BLAME, I HAVE ORDERED MY MEN TO SATY AWAY FROM YOU.

DO WE HAVE A DEAL OR NOT ?

NOTE: YOU HAVE TWO OPTIONS HERE, (1)YOU HAVE TO GET HIM ARRESTED WITH
THE INFORMATION I WILL GIVE YOU AFTER THE PAYMENT OR ( 2)YOU HAVE HIM
KILLED TO SAVE YOUR SELF.

I WILL VISIT YOUR HOUSE AGAIN BUT NOT NOW,MY BOYS EYES ARE ON YOU SO
GET BACK TO ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE

Here is my response to the email address he provided, mustaphababar009@yahoo.com.cn

Dear Mustapha,

Though I suspect that this may be a scam I have passed along your information to the F.B.I. and local law enforcement as I do not take threats on my life lightly. They should be visiting you in the very near future at which point in time you’ll gain a new residence.

But on the very slim chance that you are serious about this allow me to confirm that any assault on myself or my family will be met with a swift and severe response. Understand that this is a guarantee and not a promise.

-Jack

Blog Cliques/Blog Communities

Someone asked me if there is such a thing as a blog clique or blog community. I smiled, said yes and then told them that they aren’t part of mine. And then I stuck my tongue out at her, pulled her hair and kicked her in the shins.

For some reason at 40 that doesn’t receive the same response as it did when I was six. Back then they told my parents that I was an awful, terrible child who would never have any friends. Now it warranted a visit from men with silver bracelets and dark suits. Not to mention some guy named Mike who showed up with a Louisville Slugger and promises of using my head for batting practice.

I guess that Mike hasn’t watched as many action movies as I had or he would have known that as he swung the bat I would grab it and stop it in mid flight. Then while he stared blankly I’d take it from him and pop him in the mouth.

Moments later I’d be surrounded by his three dopey friends. They’d circle around me and I’d glare at them, all the while spinning the bat in my hands like some sort of baton. Seconds later the first one would come charging at me only to learn the same lesson as Mike, Jack’s fists of fury cannot be stopped.

In the end they’d all end up lying in various states of ass kickery wondering why they were dumb enough to listen to a guy like Mike, who trusts a man who looks like a muppet anyway.

Ok, none of that really happened. I didn’t get arrested, didn’t beat up any muppets or kick a girl in the shins. But I did talk to someone about blog cliques and communities because they do exist.

A clique is sort of an odd term to try and apply to the blogosphere. If you apply the old school definition you have a group of people that have some sort of terms for membership. If you were in school that could potentially be problematic or tricky because it could be hard to make friends.

But not here, not in the blogosphere.

The thing about cyberspace is that it is broad, it is vast and it offers lots of places to hang out. So you very well may stumble upon blogs where it is clear that the commenters have developed some sort of relationship that isn’t very welcoming to newcomers. So what, who cares.

Take advantage of the space and go elsewhere. That is the beauty of it all. Don’t fret about being excluded. Go find a community that has similar interests and hang out with them. I can guarantee that they exist, as in plural. Why hang out with people who aren’t friendly when you don’t have to.

Fly, be free.

Kettlebells

I recently started using kettlebells for my workout. I love it.

Who Is Mir Hossein Mousavi?

CBS News offers the following information about Mousavi.

(CBS) His supporters may have taken to the streets – even died for his cause. But Mir Hossein Mousavi is neither a champion of democracy as we know it, nor an advocate of great change within Iran’s Mullah-dominated government.

“He’s not a secular intellectual in the molds of Western intellectuals,” said Baqer Moin, an Iranian commentator. “No, he’s coming from within the revolution.”

In fact he was part of the revolution, a supporter of the Ayatollah Khomeini when he came to power in 1979 – a government minister during the Revolution’s turbulent early years.

“Then he became prime minister and was prime minister for nearly eight years,” Moin said.

“Very much an establishment figure,” asked CBS News correspondent Mark Phillips.

“Absolutely,” Moin said.

Even if Mousavi came to power, the change he represents is more of tone than policy.

He may not deny the Holocaust, but he has made no promise to end Iran’s support for the militants in Hezbollah or Hamas on Israel’s borders.

And while he might be prepared to talk about it, he too is committed to Iran’s nuclear program.

“He’s a moderate, he’s a pragmatist moderate,” Moin said.

I don’t know. Is he really any better than Ahmadinejad . I am not convinced and not sure what to think. You’ll forgive me for being a skeptic, but history has taught that sometimes caution is warranted.

Ahmadinejad is the devil we know. We know where he stands and what he wants. There is something to be said for that. That is not to say that it is impossible that Mousavi is better or that real reform isn’t on the horizon, but I wonder.

Recent Posts

Some recent posts:

I Love LA
Dinner For Two
Music to Play At My Funeral
Welcome to Tumbleweed Crossing
Why Be Jewish
Lost Among The Rest
June’s Music List
You Don’t Really Know Me
Iraq & Afghanistan

I just realized I haven’t had a physical in 3.5 years. If I suddenly disappear see Soccer Dad about H.H.

Damn, time moves far too quickly.

I Love LA

Hate New York City
It’s cold and it’s damp
And all the people dressed like monkeys
Let’s leave Chicago to the Eskimos
That town’s a little bit too rugged
For you and me you bad girl

Rollin’ down the Imperial Highway
With a big nasty redhead at my side
Santa Ana winds blowin’ hot from the north
And we as born to ride

Roll down the window put down the top
Crank up the Beach Boys baby
Don’t let the music stop
We’re gonna ride it till we just can’t ride it no more

>From the South Bay to the Valley
>From the West Side to the East Side
Everybody’s very happy
‘Cause the sun is shining all the time
Looks like another perfect day

I love L.A. (We love it)
I love L.A. (We love it)

Look at that mountain
Look at those trees
Look at that bum over there, man
He’s down on his knees
Look at these women
There ain’t nothin’ like ‘em nowhere

Century Boulevard (We love it)
Victory Boulevard (We love it)
Santa Monica Boulevard (We love it)
Sixth Street (We love it, we love it)

I love L.A.
I love L.A.
(We love it)

Dinner For Two

Dinner For Two is the title of a new blog I plan to start. I have many different ideas for it. Sometimes I picture it as being an upscale restaurant where couples go on a date.

This restaurant is a bit different because while we watch the date we also get to listen to them talk to us about what is really going on inside their heads.

Or maybe it will be something entirely different. Maybe it will be the setting for three scenes. Maybe it will serve as the intro, middle and end of their relationship.

You know, the place where they go for their first date, anniversary date and then the place where they eventually break up.

I have other ideas for what it could be. Other thoughts on how to turn this plain canvas into something other than what it is.

And perhaps I will share those thoughts with you. Maybe I’ll give you a glimpse inside that world and let you tell me what you think of it.

We shall have to see. For now I’ll let it ride for a bit. Sometimes it is good to let the thoughts and ideas marinate in a little brain stew, adds all sorts of flavor to it.

In the interim you’re welcome to take a walk in my garden. Take a moment and look around you because never quite know what you might find here.

Music to Play At My Funeral

Had a discussion earlier this week with what sort of music to play at a funeral. Ok, this isn’t really so much for a funeral, but any sort of memorial service. Truth is that when I am dead, I am dead, so anything can happen.

I don’t want a lot of tears and fuss. When the day comes and I take that final breath I want people to smile when they think of me. And to be clear, I haven’t any intention of dying any time soon. I have plans to fulfill. Got to walk down that Hampshire road through the burning river and decorate a few places.

Got a little covent tree that I am going to take care of. But I’ll cover all that in a separate post. For now this is the beginning of music for my funeral or memorial service. Call it whatever you want, I won’t be in attendance in the corporeal sense.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly Soundtrack- Haven’t found the entire soundtrack in a clip that plays straight through so here are a few different links. Good Music.

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2
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Theme from the Magnificent Seven
May it be- Enya
Theme from Harry’s Game- Clannad
I will find you – Clannad
Hero of The Day- Metallica
As Time Goes By – Casablanca
Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)- Bruce Springsteen

Welcome to Tumbleweed Crossing

In a relatively short period of time the dark haired beauty will graduate from pre-school and one more chapter of my life will come to a close. After her there are no more children in the pre-school or waiting to enter. She is the last and in a few hours that will be it.

Just a few more hours and that girl will be a kindergartner waiting to run on the big yard and do everything that her older brother does. Truth is that she has spent all of her almost five years on this earth trying to be just like him. She has no bigger hero than him.

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As I sit here typing a thousand thoughts are going through my mind. I am listening to The Good, The Bad and the Ugly (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) by Ennio Morricone. It is fantastic, one my favorite albums. This music is the inspiration for the title of this post, Welcome to Tumbleweed Crossing. Although in my mind it could also be used as the name of a school, not that it matters.

It is a strange feeling this one that I have now. I couldn’t be any happier or prouder of her. This little dark haired beauty who curls up on my lap and tells me that she loves me. Dark brown eyes and long black curls dangling. She looks at me and tells me to read her a story.

Sometimes she sees that distant look in my eyes and she hugs me or holds my hand. I remember when those fingers weren’t big enough to do more than grip my index finger. Now that she is a big girl she can grab several fingers at a time, but she still wants to know if her hand will ever be as big as mine.

When she is feeling shy or nervous about meeting people she hides behind me. She tells me that she has a boyfriend and that I can’t do anything about it because they are in love. I tease her about it and tell her that I am going to punch him in the nose when I see him. She puts her hands on her hips and tells me that he knows karate.

In the days that come she’ll decide that they aren’t in love anymore and tell me that it is ok to punch him in the nose now. Watch out boys, the dark haired beauty is both mysterious and dangerous. More importantly she is studying how to manipulate us men.

Maybe they should be more afraid of her than me, who knows.

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The music has taken on a more ominous tone and I can feel the tension rising. Somewhere ahead of me trouble awaits. The wind is whipping up the dust so that I have to pull my bandana up over my face, all you can see are my eyes peering out from beneath my hat. I slow my horse down but am prepared to begin riding hard for cover.

I look around and try to figure out where the attack is going to come from because it is going to come. It is not a question of will, but when. If I were them I’d wait until after sunset and use the cover of darkness to help me. But I hope that they aren’t that smart. Because I know that if they come sooner I can use the sun to my advantage.

That bright burning orb in the sky will come from behind me and force them to squint. With any luck it will give me the edge that I need. It is one on three. If I didn’t have to worry about the guns I’d feel better. If we were face to face one on three would be perfectly fine, I can handle that.

A soft rustling noise catches my attention and I turn and watch the tumbleweeds blow across the place I had been.

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Time is up. I can’t sit here and record my thoughts any longer, it is time to get ready for that graduation. In a moment I’ll stand beneath the shower and think about it all and picture a sign that says: Welcome to Tumbleweed Crossing.

Why Be Jewish

Some posts write themselves. I pick the topic and the words flow straight from the keyboard onto the cyber canvas you read them upon. Sometimes it is much more challenging. Sometime it feels like a war in which I engage in multiple battles to produce a post that is worth publishing.

This particular post has been part of the latter. I have tried to write it many times but have consistently been disappointed in it and consequently deleted and started over. But I decided that perhaps I was over thinking it and so I sat down and banged out the copy that you are reading now.

Religion is a funny thing. Some people cite it as the source of all that is good in their lives and others blame it for every possible ill. I have had more discussions than I can count about Israel with people who blame the conflict upon religious/ideological warfare.

So it got me thinking about a number of things such as why do people believe in whatever faith they believe in. Adult converts are easy. At some point in time they decided that they were not satisfied with whatever they believed and made the decision to change. But the question for those of us who did not convert is why.

Why be Jewish? Why are you a Jew? What makes you want to do it? Is it only because you were born into it or is there something more. So I conducted an informal and unscientific poll in which I emailed somewhere around 100 bloggers from the Jblogosphere and asked them to answer the question.

I received back from very interesting responses and thought that I would share them with you. In the interest of confidentiality I’ll share their words but I am not going to identify them. It will be their choice to step from behind the curtain.

I’m Jewish because I was born Jewish. I have to be honest, if I wasn’t born Jewish I don’t know that I’d have become Jewish. I tend to be the sort of person who goes with the flow. If I had been the product of a mixed marriage, I really don’t know which way I’d go. Though I suspect in such circumstances I’d probably choose one or the other religion.

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I am Jewish because it is my heritage.

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I am Jewish because having a purposeful life is imperative.Because of all of the purported purposes in the world, this one makes the most sense to me.There is no “dead space” in a well-lived Jewish life. No “killing time.” There is nothing that doesn’t matter, from when we wake up until we go to sleep — and even our sleep time can be sanctified.When I was young, “free, white and 21″ was a popular explanation for why I could do whatever I wanted to do. And that was freedom.

As I lived a while, I realized that freedom like that is only the freedom to screw up. I think I felt truly free for the first time in my life when I understood what the boundaries were.

Adults are not so much different from children, after all. We also play with the most joy and abandon when we know where the walls and the cliffs are located, and that they are clearly marked.

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Judaism connects me to my father. His memory is what caused me to seek out Judaism.
I thrive on the structure that the Jewish calendar imparts
Keeping Kosher makes me think about God every time I eat.
I love how the world melts away when I light Shabbat candles.
I love that every week, we have a reason to celebrate.
I have children who remind me daily that there is something bigger than me in the world.
The music and liturgy of Shabbat morning services soothes my soul.
I love the Jewish community and sense of extended family that I have found.
My heart sings when I hear my almost 5 year old son singing Ma Yafe Hayom at the top of his lungs while showering. Or when my 9 1/2 year old asks the Hazzan if she can lead part of the service.
I have the world’s most precious gift that I can pass along to my children.
Oh. And because I was born that way.

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The fact of it is that I am Jewish because my parents are Jewish and I was born Jewish. Maybe that goes without saying but if I were not born Jewish, there is no reason to believe that I would have sought out Judaism because the values so deeply resonated within me.

I happened to go to Jewish summer camp and fell in love with the friends and community I made. Years later, you could insert “Israel” into that sentence. It sounds a bit odd and irrational to say something is such an important value when I don’t feel like I ever really CHOSE it but that’s life.

How many Amish, Catholics, or charedim would have chosen their lives if they hadn’t been born into that world?

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I am a Jew because I believe I am part of something bigger than myself that is real. I grew up in a non-religious home and have become more religious on my own. I have felt a connection to HaShem if my life and my travels to Jerusalem. I am a part of something special, and I am proud of my heritage and the future of my people.

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I grew up with it, in a watered down religious way, and in a home of immigrants who had been persecuted because they are/were Jewish. I had lots of my own experiences here in the States, both as a youngster and as an adult. One fine day I realized that I owe my very existence to Jew hatred – without it, presumably, my parents would have never fled their home countries, and presumably would have never met, thus obviatingmy conception. Can you believe it Jack; I, a Jew, owe my existence to Adolph Hitler?

And people think I’m weird. Anyway, as I’ve grown older, Judaism has grown in and on me. At this point in my life, I can’t do without it.

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Why am I Jewish?The answer goes beyond the simple accident of birth, that chance fusing of DNA from the son of Polish Ashkenazic immigrants and the daughter of Russian Ashkenazic immigrants. That alone would suffice, but it would not explain why I – a devout skeptic – put on tefillin and a tallit and say my prayers almost every day.

To be a Jew means more than to be an ancestor of the people who escaped Egyptian slavery and who stood at the base of Mount Horeb. Those stories go to the heart of our nation-building experience, but they do not completely explain the curious combination of deep moral vision and common sense that are the essential components of the Jewish belief system.

We Jews are, ideally, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation, a light unto the world – who would not want to be a part of such a nation? That is why I am Jewish.

Our national history teaches us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to not shun the stranger – for we were strangers in the land of Egypt. Who better than to carry the torch of social justice, to set a positive example?

To us Jews, faith is important – but deeds are much more so. That is why I am Jewish. I am Jewish because I am the descendant of people who were not content merely to pray to God, but had the chutzpah to bargain with, argue with, and cajole Him.

I am Jewish because we need no intermediaries between us and the Almighty, an ineffable Spirit who does not need to incarnate Himself in order to understand the deepest thoughts of His creations, who created them without sin or blemish (and without perfection) – but with Free Will. That is why I am Jewish.

Plus…gefilte fish!

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Why am I Jewish? Birth. That’s all. I mean, ashreinu ma tov chelkeinu, etc,

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Birth for a starter. I wasn’t raised in a religious home, but we knew we were Jewish. I could have turned away into an American universalist. In my childhood days, most people had religion, except for the rare intermarried family.

Today no religion is more common.

I’m the type who likes to be part of something, and if I’m part of something I take it seriously. So, today I’m a Torah Jew, aka Orthodox.

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Quite simply, I AM Jewish because I was born into a Jewish family with Jewish parents. It doesn’t take much more than uterine luck to be a Jew in many cases.

It’s what one does with that birthright that defines his or her Judaism. I’ve written about my belief that every Jew is a Jew by choice, but I’ve never really gotten into the why, so here we go.

I am a practicing Jew because the basic concepts work for me. Observing commandments like keeping kosher make me feel connected to something much bigger than me; it connects me to thousands of years of heritage and to all kosher Jews around the world today.

On a more theological level, I like being part of a religion that allows its adherents to question everything and often encourages the practice. I could not be in a faith where such grappling is not a core value. I mean, we’ve devoted whole books to wrestling with core ideological questions and they’ll never be done.

Judaism is a living thing unto itself and that’s pretty damn cool. We infuse everything from mundane tasks to sublime revelations with holiness. Who else makes a religion out of eating but the Jews?

More than that, we have crammed a holistic way of life into our faith without being absolute.

Finally, I’m Jewish because it resonates with me. I find comfort in the memories of my home during holidays, of the friends from various youth groups and Hebrew school and college classes, and of the incredible hospitality I’ve encountered in my travels.

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You could look at painter Marc Chagall’s reply when he was asked ‘who is a Jew?’. He defined a Jew as anybody the world treated as one.

It’s certainly one answer, even for those totally assimilated ‘progressive’ Jews on the Left who may one day find out exactly how Jewish their political allies see them as.

We are a religion and a nationality at the same time, the only group of people whom I can think of for which that can be said.

Why am I a Jew? Because it is part of whom I am. It is as natural to me as breathing.

To deny it would be an act of self-hatred. The simplest answer, of course, is that I am a Jew because Hashem made me one, and it was not an accident.

Embracing that in all its facets without apology or second thoughts is a fascinating experience, especially if you believe, as I do, that G-d has a special purpose and plan for the Jewish people.

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Born Jewish. Went to Jewish school. Went to very non Jewish university. Didn’t know how to be Jewish on my own. Dated non Jewish men. Parents rather angry. I didn’t really get way, because we weren’t strict in our Jewish practice, did the eating non Kosher thing when we were out and about and didn’t keep Shabbat at all.

In fact Shabbat was spent shopping.

Anyway, eventually married non Jewish man. I had a bit of a life eye opener a couple of years back when, i nearly died. Emergency surgery and a couple of years of “finding myself” and i found myself back (sort of) where i started practicing my religion once more, only more strictly (and more seriously) than i had with my parents.

Why am i Jewish? Because after years of not behaving Jewishly, “being Jewish” is a better fit for me spiritually.

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I was born to a Jewish mother. they tell me that that makes me Jewish. Recently this issue has been bothering a student I’ve been working with in school. It comes down to trust in the oral tradition, to the idea that the written Torah is shorthand.
I was once a witness for a friend before he got married in Jerusalem. A large, tough looking rabbi asked me if my friend was Jewish. i said yes. Then he surprised me by asking, “Eich atah yodeah?” My basic answer was “homina, homina, homina,” but included some details like the fact that my friend went to day schools/yeshivot his whole life, his father was a rabbi, and (my favorite) everyone assumed he was Jewish. The big man bought it.

As far as I know I am Jewish. My understanding is that this can not easily be undone, and maybe it can’t be undone even with great effort (G-d forbid). We are called G-d’s children, and there’s no divorce for children. The question asked was why am I Jewish, so I guess that answers that.

One could wonder why am I or my compatriots actively Jewish. What compels me to be a Jewy Jew? To me, that’s a more interesting question than why I am technically Jewish and a much more difficult question to answer. I think so much in life that we present in life as ideology is actually largely sociology. Why we hold the opinions and beliefs that we do is very much about what we’ve experienced in life. Pursuant to that point I feel that I can never thank my parents enough for having sent me, from Kindergarten on, to Jewish Day Schools.

I could go on and on with this question, expanding it, branching it out into related question upon question: why am I Orthodox (and what does Orthodox mean?), why am I the kind of Orthodox Jew that I am (and what kind is that?), why am I a rabbi? , why do I teach Jewish Studies, what do I believe are the important actions, elements, beliefs of a Jew?, and on and on and on.

I’m going to close this answer up now. I’m not sure if it fits so much as I’d like it to, but I’ll end with an analogy. In Gadi Pollack’s Once Upon A Tale (translated by Devorah GoldshmiedtI the following moshol is presented in the introduction.

A man was staying with a close friend of his, in an inn, in a foreign land. He was dependent on his pal, because he did not know the language of the country they were visiting.

One day, during a rare moment our protagonist found himself alone in his room. The innkeeper stormed into the room and began shouting in a his language. The star of our story didn’t understand a word.

The other gentleman started screaming more frantically, pointing at the clock on the wall, motioning to the door.

All the guest could think of was that he was about to be thrown out if he didn’t pay up. he offered the owner money to no avail The scene replayed itself in a perpetual loop until the other guest returned.

He immediately understood that the proprietor was warning them that there was a fire at the other end of the hotel and that it could spread and that they’d best get outside right away.

A lesson from this story that we can glean is that often in life messages are being sent our way from G-d.

This I believe.

We sometimes misinterpret messages based on our own biases and lack of knowledge of the language of G-d. The messages I’ve been sent in my life, and continue to receive have made clear to me that a traditional Jewish life is the path of truth.

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I was born Jewish, so evidently it is God’s will that it be so. I bend to his will and do the best I can to keep the traditions alive and pass them down to my children and to my students. But had I been given a choice before birth, I would have chosen not to be Jewish. I think that life would be easier without all the burdens that Judaism places upon us.

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I’m non religious. My Dad was raised in an orthodox orphanage in 20s/30s Berlin; my Mom was raised by her Christian mother and her assimilated Jewish father. Both converged in Palestine, though.

My Dad was lucky enough to have a teacher who was making Aliyah take my Dad with him. He ended up helping found a kibbutz in 1935. He also became a Marxist, abandoning his religion. He died a Reagan Democrat, with a respect for religion, but he never went back.

My Mom’s assimilated Jewish father was profoundly affected by Herzl’s Zionism. He made his first journey to Palestine in 1912, or so, along with such other Austro-Hungarian Zionists as Stefan Zweick.

He eventually moved the family to Tel Aviv in 1935, and my Mom, at 13, started school there.

My Mom had good religious training in the schools, but was never religious herself.

During WWII, my Dad was in the RAF; my Mom was in concentration camp in Indonesia (long story).

After the war, both were repatriated to Palestine, and both fought in the War of Independence. My Dad, for about 5 minutes, until a bigger fish came along, was the first Jewish commander of Jaffa since the Roman era; my mom was a draftsman for the Army.

I am, therefore, deeply connected to Israel.

When my parents came to America, they continued to be nonreligious. They didn’t realize that it’s one thing to be a non-religious Jew in a Jewish country, and a non-religious Jew in a Christian/secular country.

So religion isn’t my Jewishness. And yet I still feel Jewish.My parents friends were, without exception, Jewish. My parents social reference points were, without exception, Jewish.

My Dad’s jokes were, with few exceptions, Jewish. Our sense of empathy was tied to Jews — those who died in the Holocaust and those who lived in Israel.

I know I’m Jewish and I make sure my kids know they’re Jewish.

Lost Among The Rest

There are moments when I visualize myself standing in the middle of a crowded plaza or railway station. I stand there looking up and around, not really sure of what I am doing or where I am going. I am surrounded by people who are walking with a sense of purpose towards their very real and fulfilling lives while I stand there lost among the rest.

Sometimes the sky is a piercing shade of blue and sometimes it is black and filled with ominous looking thunderclouds. I stand there lost among the rest and wonder if I shouldn’t be Mickey Mouse in Fantasia conducting some sort of wacky and crazed opera.

I stand there lost among the rest and ask questions but I get no answers. The questions are always the same. It is a search for purpose and for meaning. Questions that I never used to ask because the answers were obvious, but not anymore.

A quest, a search for the things that are missing is what I am on, but I stand lost among the rest. Watching and waiting for that moment. That one moment in which I’ll find the thing that gives me peace. Because I know that peace is out there. I know that if I hold fast I’ll find that thing again, that thing I had as a child.

That trust in the world and in those around me that it works. Right now that trust has been broken, shattered and all that I had believed is in flux. The choices that I have made and the decisions that I am going to make all hinge upon a few things.

Still I stand there, lost among the rest. The world is spinning faster and faster and I can do no more than silently scream and wonder how much longer I can take the strikes upon my back. Soon I must break or turn my face to the sky and roar in frustration.

Intellectually I know that this is nothing more than a moment. This is the stuff upon which character is built. That is not hyperbole or cliche but fact. So I stand with my jaw and fists clenched and remind myself that the voices whispering in my head do not have to be heeded.

One day this time will be nothing more than a story that I tell, but I hope that it happens sooner rather than later.

June’s Music List

Vincent (Starry Starry Night) Don McLean
American Pie- Don McLean
Ten Years Kashmir II (Orchestra – Choir – Film Perc Mix)
Latika’s Theme- Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack
Main Title from the Last of the Mohicans- Soundtrack
You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up)- Josh Groban
What’s Going On -Marvin Gaye
Star Spangled Banner- Marvin Gaye
On The Dark Side – Eddie And The Cruisers

It is an incomplete list that I’ll add to later.

You Don’t Really Know Me

You don’t really know me. You come here to my corner shop in cyberspace and eavesdrop on my thoughts and my life. You read the words and think that you know what I am doing with my life.

You read the words and think that you have special insight into what drives me. You read the words and think that you understand my hopes and fears.

But you only see what I choose to show you. You only read the tales I tell and even then you have to remember that not all that glitters is gold. I write what I write and let you decide if it is right.

The words flow from my fingers onto the keyboard and then are cut and pasted with reckless abandon. They wander from left to right and right to left, up or down. It doesn’t really matter because sometimes I just let them go.

Sometimes I empty out the closet and let the air fill the space that the junk occupied. Oftentimes it is meaningless drivel but still you wonder if there is a secret message. In response I suggest that you close your eyes and listen to the silence.

What do you hear and what do you see. I can show you. I can tell you, but I can’t bring you inside because the door is closed and the keeper is on vacation and hasn’t any idea when he will return.

And in the end what does it matter and what does it mean. These are just words on a page composed by an ordinary man living an ordinary life.

Haveil Havalim #221

The Ima has put together an outstanding edition of Haveil Havalim, the best of the Jewish/Israeli blogosphere. Go check it out.

Iraq & Afghanistan

Been thinking about the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Two wars that have been waged my daughter’s entire life and most of my son’s. Two wars that they know little to nothing about, but that is OK.

Part of the joy of being a child is based upon innocence. Part of the joy is not being aware of how many bad things exist and how life doesn’t always have happy endings. It is a key component of their being able to sleep so peacefully. Children don’t worry about being employed, feeding a family, paying a mortgage or how to pay for car repairs.

And the truth is that so many of us here in the states don’t spend much time thinking about the wars, or if we do it is more theoretical in nature. We’re not happy about death and destruction, but because it is so far away we worry about the financial impact.

It is understandable, unless you are in a place where you are exposed to our service people it is easy to forget about the human element. I try not to. I try to remind myself that there are people out there who are being maimed physically and psychologically.

I try to remind myself that someone’s mother/father/sister/brother/son is not going to come home or if they do come home they are damaged in ways that I can’t imagine.

It doesn’t matter what your politics are, they are out there working for and fighting on our behalf and I am grateful for that.

In my little world I know a bunch of soldiers and have heard all kinds of stories. But lately when I think about Iraq and Afghanistan I think of a friend who is a medic. He has already completed two tours in Iraq and is waiting to be shipped out to Afghanistan.

Sometimes he’ll talk about some of what has happened and I sit and listen. Stories about how he was injured and what happened. Tales that aren’t told in a way that you would classify as bragging.

I am not always sure that he is talking to me, because sometimes he get’s this far away look in his eyes and I wonder what it is that he sees. He wants to go back because he doesn’t know what to do with himself here. I ask him what he is going to do when it ends because at some point we will leave both countries or he’ll be discharged.

He tells me that if he doesn’t come home as a KIA he’ll go back to being a software engineer, maybe. I tell him that he can’t think about dying, he just has to believe that he is going to live. He nods and smiles. I get the feeling that he is politely blowing me off and maybe he is.

What do I know about combat. I battle for rebounds. Been in more than one or two fist fights in my life, but not in a war. Can’t say that I really understand, but I can’t ignore the comments about not coming back either, now can I.

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Alone in the dark I stare at the sleeping child and listen to the soft snore. I bend over and kiss a forehead and hope that somehow they never lose the ability to sleep like this. I used to be able to do that. I wonder if I can learn how to do it again.

American al Qaeda Member

CNN reports that American Al Qaeda member has acknowledged that he has Jewish roots.

(CNN) — In a new anti-Israel, anti-U.S. video, an American al Qaeda member makes reference to his Jewish ancestry for the first time in an official al Qaeda message.In the video, Adam Yahiye Gadahn, also known as Azzam the American, discusses his roots as he castigates U.S. policies and deplores Israel’s offensive in Gaza that started in late December 2008 and continued into January.

“Let me here tell you something about myself and my biography, in which there is a benefit and a lesson,” Gadahn says, as he elicits support from his fellow Muslims for “our weapons, funds and Jihad against the Jews and their allies everywhere.”

“Your speaker has Jews in his ancestry, the last of whom was his grandfather,” he says.
Growing up in rural California, Gadahn embraced Islam in the mid-1990s, moved to Pakistan and has appeared in al Qaeda videos before.

He was indicted in the United States in 2006 on charges of treason and material support to al Qaeda, according to the FBI. Gadahn is on the FBI’s Most Wanted List, with a reward of up to $1 million leading to his capture. FBI records show Gadahn’s date of birth as September 1, 1978.

The video — in which Gadahn speaks Arabic, with English subtitles — surfaced on Saturday.

This account is based on an English transcript provided by As-Sahab Media, the media production company used by al Qaeda.

Not a whole to be said. His speech proves that being a moron is not limited to any one group, race, color or creed. A moron, is a moron, is a moron.

But don’t let that fool you into not taking his threats seriously. This is war being waged in all arenas, be it through the media or on the ground.

There is nothing wrong with saying that some ideologies are morally superior and some are morally inferior. It is fine and good to say that we should respect other people’s beliefs, but there are lines that can be crossed and he has done so.

Flying buildings into planes, blowing up embassies and all of the other fine work that they take credit for makes it clear that they are members of an ideology that is morally bankrupt.

I am saddened and disappointed by this. The U.S. like many other countries has made many mistakes, but it has also done a tremendous amount of good for the world. The reality is that few countries have ever offered so many such tremendous opportunities as the U.S. does. It is not cliche to say that it is a place where dreams can come true.

It is too bad that Gadahn has positioned himself as the tool of such people, but he will get what he deserves.

My Blog Posts Need A Soundtrack- Thoughts on Writing

If I had the resources and ability every post here would include video/photos and would be accompanied by a soundtrack. Now I suppose if I were a finer writer I wouldn’t be concerned about that because I could create a tapestry of images by constructing sentences and paragraphs that painted a picture.

Sometimes I can do that, but not as often as I’d like which is part of why I find myself including links to music and or video in these posts. There are moments where I am trying to express something that is similar to the clip below<p>Some of you won’t appreciate those clips. They may seem to over the top, but there is a message, a story being told and that is what I am after. It is part of why artists like Springsteen grab me, they tell stories that you can relate to and visualize. Listen to Tunnel of Love and tell me that you can’t picture it. Tell me that inside your head you can’t see it. I don’t believe you.

For years the Shmata Queen has tried to convince me to get into Barry Manilow. I can’t say that I suddenly love his music, but songs like Weekend in New England and Somewhere Down the Road tell a story and that I can appreciate.

One of the reasons that I enjoy blogging is the self discovery it provides. And no, that is not a clever euphemism for being master of my domain. It is exactly as it sounds. Blogging provides an opportunity for me to unclutter my mind and clarify thoughts and feelings about life.

That is part of how I have come to the conclusion that somehow, some way, I need to find time to write a book and make a movie. There are stories that need to be told, things inside my head that are yearning to break free.

Ah, the joy of being 40 and feeling like it is time to reinvent and start over. Now the question comes, do I have the will to act.

Henri Ducard: You traveled the world… Now you must journey inwards… to what you really fear… it’s inside you… there is no turning back. Your parents’ death was not your fault. Your training is nothing. The will is everything. If you make yourself more than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, you become something else entirely. Are you ready to begin?

Facebook Privacy Settings

A number of my friends and I have begun playing some of the games on Facebook. A few of these games are built in such a way that in order to succeed you need to build a team. The more players on your team, the more powerful and successful you can become.

So we went out and tried to recruit new players from among our friends. Invariably quite a few of them opt not to play, some of them because they have no interest and some because they’re concerned about the time committment.

The reality is that it doesn’t matter why they don’t want to play. The end result is that you either accept that your success is limited by the size of those you can incorporate into your game or you have to go searching for like minded individuals on Facebook.

As it happens there are numerous groups of people who all want the same thing as you, success in the game. So you have the option of friending them and making them part of the team. The issue with this is that since you don’t know them you may be concerned about giving them access to your information.

The answer to this is to adjust your privacy settings and to separate your friends into groups. What happens is that you establish custom privacy settings that limit access to your information.
By doing this you can limit the information that your fellow players can see while still providing access to your trusted friends.

Time is Slipping Away from Me

Part of the impact of turning 40 has been a near obsession with the impact of time on my life. It is not that I expect or am worried that I am going to die any time soon.

The genetic makeup of old Jack is good. Two grandparents who are 95, a grandfather who lived into his nineties and other relatives who made it past the century mark are reassuring. Truth is that I expect to outlive a lot of people, it is my fate. That is not supposed to be arrogant, just a feeling. Hard enough to bury friends now, but to outlive many is a different story.

Anyway, I live with this contradiction. I have this belief that I have a minimum of 50 years left to walk the earth and this fear that I am not getting enough out of life now. There is an enormous list of things that I want to do. It includes the simple task of just building my vocabulary and more complex desires such as my interest in going back to school to get degrees in a variety of fields.

Scratch that, I’d like to become an expert in a bunch of fields. Anthropology, history, science, medicine and more. One of the reasons that I am constantly reading is because I find so many things to be of interest.

But there isn’t time to read and learn the way that I’d like to. You see I have these responsibilities, family, mortgage, retirement and what have you that get in the way. There are these little people that run around the house calling me names like dad, daddy and abba.

Sometimes they call and I look for my dad. I may be 40 but they can’t possibly be talking to me, can they. Actually they can. I can say that they look and act like me, so they must be mine.

So many things to do and so little time to do them. I find it frustrating to do things that I don’t like or don’t find fulfilling. There is this fire burning inside of me and a little voice that whispers. The murmuring sound in my ear makes me a bit crazy, what if something happens. What if I don’t have as much time as I think, am I getting enough out of life.

That is part of the balancing act we undergo each day. The question of how much of our own happiness needs to be subjugated for our children and our responsibilities. We can’t ignore them. We can’t just walk away and do exactly what we want.

But we can’t just ignore them either. There is a finite amount of time to live and I can’t accept not getting more out of it. I can’t accept not trying to suck the marrow out.

If you don’t have any regrets than you haven’t allowed yourself to live and if you don’t take a chance you are making a mistake. It is all about balance and it requires constant readjustment.

Anyhoo, it is getting late so I’ll sign off for now. More to come on this topic.

What Actor/Actress Would You Want to Play You

If someone was to make a movie of your life what actor/actress would you want to play you?

It is A Bathroom Revolution

Friends you know that one of my goals here at the Shack is to provide you with information and resources that you can use to improve your life. Our team of experts is always hard at work sniffing out the best deals and products from around the globe.

Today I am pleased to inform you that we have discovered a device that will revolutionize your bathroom experience. Chances you have never thought about a good toilet accessory, but this is it.

In the video below you’ll learn about the first improvement to toilet paper as know it since the 1880s. For a mere pittance you can pick up the Comfort Wipe.

For those who have missed out on past reviews of useful products here is a list of links that you might find to be useful.

How to Make Hard Boiled Eggs
What Not to Do-Snakebites
The Cubicle Celebrates 40 Years
How Velcro Was Invented
My New Desk- I Have To Get One
London Restaurant Tries To Solve Gas Crisis
Who Wants To Buy An Artificial Foreskin
Untapped Sources of Energy
The Mangroomer
Business Cards That Will Get You Business
Medical Technology- The future is now
Inventions You have Got T0 Have (Includes the ladies urinal, toilet forehead support system and much more.)
The Nose Pouch
How Much Would it Cost To Build The Death Star
Lose Weight With The Greatest Exercise Ever
The Best Clothing You’ll Ever Own
When Disaster Strikes- Blow Up Your House
A free guide to the toilets of the world

Permalinks and Your Blog

Here is a quick blogging tip to bear in mind. If you spend time linking to articles and other sources of information you’ll want to try to make sure that you use a permalink.

Permalinks are designed to be static so that you can always find that piece of information you are looking for.

If you want a more detailed explanation click on the Wikipedia link I provided above and it should answer many of your questions.

D.C. Holocaust Museum Shooting

By now most of you have probably heard about the shooting at the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. and of the heroic security guard that was murdered by the shooter.

“WASHINGTON (CNN) — A lone gunman killed a security guard at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum on Wednesday before being wounded himself by return fire from other guards, sources confirmed to CNN.

The suspect was identified as James von Brunn, an 88-year-old white supremacist from Maryland, two law enforcement officials told CNN.

The museum identified the guard as Stephen Tyrone Johns.

The gunman entered the museum at 12:50 p.m. with a rifle and immediately shot a museum security guard, said Chief Cathy Lanier of the District of Columbia’s Metropolitan Police Department. Two other security guards returned fire, wounding the gunman, she said.

Both the gunman and a security guard were taken to George Washington University Hospital, where the gunman was in “critical” condition, said D.C. Mayor Adrian Fenty. “

The story about how it happened and the murderer behind it are all over the news as are numerous stories about the murderer James Von Brunn.

Read a little bit about him and there is no question that the man is an antisemitic bigot. You’ll hear stories about how he went to prison for attempting to kidnap members of the Federal Reserve Board and tales about his time as an artist.

Hopefully these stories won’t be filled with any sort of excuses for his actions. No apologists trying to explain that he suffered from dementia or anything like that. Because what is clear is that this man was filled with hate and anger for a long time. He knew what he was doing.

That is significant because we cannot forget that there are bad people in the world. We cannot forget that there are people who are willing to murder you because of race, color and creed. I am not advocating paranoia or saying that we should be afraid bad people will get us.

Just recommending that we be vigilant because men like Van Brunn remind us that there is still reason to be.

A Tale of Great Customer Service & Utter Stupidity

The Smoking Gun has a story that made me burst out laughing. It is so ridiculous it is unbelievable. Look at this:

JUNE 9–A telephone prankster posing as a sprinkler company employee caused havoc Saturday morning at an Arkansas Holiday Inn when he convinced an employee to set off the hotel’s fire alarm, smash windows, shut down electricity, and break a sprinkler head that flooded the building lobby.

The bizarre incident is detailed in a report prepared by the Conway Police Department, which, as seen below, photographed the aftermath of the June 6 incident.

According to police, Holiday Inn employee Christina Bergmann was at the front desk early Saturday when a male caller “identified himself as an employee of Grennel Fire Sprinkler service.”

The man told Bergmann that there was a problem with the hotel’s fire sprinklers and that she “needed to pull the fire alarm to reset them,” cops reported. “Bergmann proceeded to pull the fire alarm at this point, causing the audible alarm.”

Bergmann, aided by a hotel guest, would subsequently follow a series of directions from the caller that would result in about $50,000 in damages to the hotel’s windows, carpets and electrical system. Hotel guests, who were evacuated during the incident, were allowed back into the Holiday Inn after police and fire officials determined that the caller was an imposter.

Recent Posts

Blogging Etiquette
Blogging Etiquette- The Prequel
Second Rule of Blogging
How To Deal With Writer’s Block
If I Were Sleeping I Wouldn’t Be Listening To The …
Why Some Blogs Fail
Beach Blanket Havalim!
The Joy of Facebook Photos…. Again
Joy & Sadness
D-Day
Bad Meals Aggravate Me
Inspiring Movie Moments

And some from the past:
Math Proves Women Are Trouble
Do You Have An Accent
Another List of Things About Me

Blogging Etiquette

At long last here is the sequel, to the prequel about Blogging Etiquette. Those few of you who know me well understand that etiquette is not something that you would associate with me. It is not because I am a complete slob or socially inept because I am neither of those things.

Rather it is because I don’t like being tied to social convention. I don’t like being told to what to do or how to act. But the joy of being a grown up and a member of society is that sometimes you have to do these things.

You can consider this post to be my recommendation for how to get along with others in the blogosphere.

It is understood that many bloggers want to have millions of pageviews and readers who frequent a very active comment section. Chances are you have seen a blog that looks just like that. It is not unlikely that you look at that blog(s) and think that there is no reason why your own blog shouldn’t look just like that.

You’ll recognize that part of building your blog involves reading and commenting on other blogs. Smart comments encourage people to point and click their way down to electric avenue to see your witty remarks about life or whatever it is you blog about.

Or you can choose to be obnoxious and leave comments throughout the blogosphere lauding your blog. That happens here on a semi regular basis. Someone leaves a comment that has nothing to do with the post in the hope that it will drive traffic to their blog. Most of the time I delete those comments.

However, if you leave a comment that contributes to the conversation I’ll often ignore your attempt to use my blog for free advertising. Help me build the community and I am happy to help you. And that leads to another comment about comments.

Many bloggers see their blogs as an extension of their home. You are entitled to disagree with their opinion and you are entitled to say so in the comments. But have a care about how you do it, especially if you are a new reader/commenter. It is not cool to just show up out of the blue and start flaming others.

That is not to say that there aren’t blogs out there where this takes place and is considered acceptable because there are. But in general most bloggers don’t want their comment section to be a shark tank.

Remember that if you are on a private blog you are not guaranteed freedom of speech. You won’t find Earl Warren, John Roberts or Thurgood Marshall writing an opinion that says that you have the right to use the comment section to say anything.

If you aggravate the host you could find that you are banned from commenting. Or in some cases you might find that the host edits your comments. Editing comments so that it appears you said something else can create other issues and there is a lot that can be said about that, but we’ll leave it alone for now.

Let’s spend a moment talking about blogrolls. If you want a blogger to blogroll you the best way to make it happen is to send them a polite email asking them to do so. Don’t put them on the spot by leaving comments asking to be blogrolled.

That is enough for now. It is late and there are more exciting things to do and write about. Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Blogging Etiquette- The Prequel

Blogging Etiquette says that your comment should be related to the post. If all you say is “come to my blog” you are a spammer. Those comments are deleted.

This post will be expanded upon later.

Second Rule of Blogging

The second rule of blogging is that the posts that I think are the best rarely get the most traffic.

How To Deal With Writer’s Block

Earlier this week we spent a few minutes talking about some of the reasons Why Blogs Fail. I wouldn’t call that a comprehensive list because it really is more of a general overview. So let’s spend a moment talking about one of the elements of why blogs fail, writer’s block.

Content is the engine that drives the blog. Without content there is no reason for you or anyone else to visit. Call it the first law of blogging or use any other term you want, really doesn’t matter. It is a given.

The challenge of producing great content day in and day out never goes away. It doesn’t matter how good a writer you are, there will come a moment during which you’ll stare at the keyboard and wonder why it is silent. The question is how do you break through that silence. When you haven’t any idea what the hell to write about, what are you going to do.

If you follow my advice you’ll start writing. You’ll pick a topic and start typing. Writing is a skill and like any skill it requires practice and effort. If you don’t work at it than you’ll see your skill level deteriorate.

For some of you that advice will be enough, but others want a more concrete example.

One of the easiest solutions is to grab a list of topics, such as the one that Chris Brogan provided here and start typing. And if you don’t like any of those you can always “google” blog or writing topics and find suggestions that way.

The idea here is that if you teach yourself to be disciplined about writing daily you’ll find that the moments in which you encounter writer’s block will decrease and that even when they do hit they won’t last as long.

What do you think? Do you have any tricks that you want to share.

If I Were Sleeping I Wouldn’t Be Listening To The Same Old Songs

Ghost Riders In The Sky- Johnny Cash
Solitary Man- Johnny Cash
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down- Johnny Cash
God’s Gonna Cut You Down- Johnny Cash
Something I can never have- Nine Inch Nails
Closer- Nine Inch Nails
Wake Up-The Arcade Fire
Heroes (live)- David Bowie

Why Some Blogs Fail

My blogging friend LB and I had a brief discussion on Twitter regarding why some blogs last and others don’t. On a side note be sure to read his post on Hummus, see Benji, I am working on that Google page ranking.

Anyhoo, he turned me onto this article from the New York Times called: Blogs Falling in an Empty Forest, or When The Thrill of Blogging is Gone. The question/topic of our tweeting was about why this happens and what it takes to survive. Before we get into that let’s take a look at an excerpt from the article.

“Like Mrs. Nichols, many people start blogs with lofty aspirations — to build an audience and leave their day job, to land a book deal, or simply to share their genius with the world. Getting started is easy, since all it takes to maintain a blog is a little time and inspiration. So why do blogs have a higher failure rate than restaurants?According to a 2008 survey by Technorati, which runs a search engine for blogs, only 7.4 million out of the 133 million blogs the company tracks had been updated in the past 120 days. That translates to 95 percent of blogs being essentially abandoned, left to lie fallow on the Web, where they become public remnants of a dream — or at least an ambition — unfulfilled.

Judging from conversations with retired bloggers, many of the orphans were cast aside by people who had assumed that once they started blogging, the world would beat a path to their digital door.” [Emphasis in bold is mine J.B.]

If you want to be a successful blogger and be around for the long haul than you need one of two things to happen. Blogging has to be profitable or a passion. If you are lucky than you receive both.

When people ask me for advice on how to start a blog I always begin the conversation with a question, “Why do you want to start blogging?” If their answer is that they want to become rich and famous and hope that blogging will provide a platform for that I wish them good luck and ask them if they have really thought it out.

Do they have a plan? What is the blog going to be about? What blogging platform do they intend to use, WordPress, Typepad etc? What is the name of their blog, have they secured the domain name etc?

These aren’t hard questions to come up with. They don’t require any real insight or expertise to develop. There are a million sites that ask and answer these questions. A million sites that tell you they can help you use the net to get rich.

Most bloggers won’t ever make much money. Chances are they won’t spend much time on any in developing a marketing plan. They won’t really expend much effort on making it work. They’ll dip their toes in and decide that it takes work and continue because they like it or just give up.

That is why I say that it takes passion. You have to enjoy this. You have to get something more out of it than just the hope that you might make a buck at it. Because it is like anything else, if you like doing it than chances are you’ll stick with it.

At least that is what I think. What about you?

Beach Blanket Havalim!

Ben Yehudah has outdone himself and produced a very fine Haveil Havalim for your review. For those who are unfamiliar Haveil Havalim is the weekly blog carnival of the Jewish/Israeli blogosphere.

Want to get a sense of what is important within the Jblogosphere. Click here and find out.

The Joy of Facebook Photos…. Again

Upon occasion I may have mentioned that a few of the boys are in the process of getting divorced, or as one said disengaging from the “rat shit crazy woman I live with.” I am still trying to figure out what that really means, or better yet understand how you come up with that term.

Even better was bearing witness to an argument about whether the term is supposed to be “bat shit” and not “rat shit.” Either way those boys are full of crap.

The joy they tell me in losing a spouse is the fun of seeking a new partner to play with. That is a euphemism for “I really want female companionship” just not one that is legally attached to me.

Anyhoo…A few of them say that they have begun combing through Facebook for old girlfriends or girls that they wish had been more than just friends. In the process they have suddenly discovered a few things, primary among them is that none of us look like we are twenty any more.

In fact they tell me, some of these ladies look like they are middle aged. So while they cackle abou this I gleefully remind them that it goes both ways. “Listen you drunken fools, if we all graduated high school together it means that we are all the same age.”

And they of course appreciate my profundity and share their admiration by bestowing various terms of endearment upon me. Needless to say they were colorful and would have been quite appropriate for use in a Mad Lib designed for adults.

So there we are pointing, clicking and squinting at various pictures. “Can that really be Anna Rachel. It looks like it, but the picture is so small I am not quite sure,” he says. From across the room we hear “take a look at Cindy Bargedorf’s account, it is open.”

And there we see good old Cindy, she who had been exceptionally hot in that girl next door way. The years have been good to her, at least the child bearing years have because she must have 16 children and all that comes with it.

A load groan erupts and before it gets any worse I attempt to be the voice of reason again.”Dude, you have lost half your hair and have grown a bit larger, it is called life.“

Immediately afterwards I duck and those instincts prove to be correct as two or three objects go sailing by the space my head used to occupy.

A short time later the computers are all turned off and we are engaged in a riveting conversation that covers who was with who in high school, why LeBron will leave cleveland and we can’t really be middle aged can we.

Again I insist on reminding the boys that my grandparents are 95, which means that I can’t possibly be middle aged until I am at least half their age. That gives me 7.5 more years.

In the interim I think that I am going to replace all of my Facebook photos with shots of me holding Viagra, Grecian Formula 44 and a Ferrari. That sort of self deprecating humor should serve me well.

Now aren’t you glad that you spent the last three minutes reading this post.

Joy & Sadness

I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Those of you with children will likely appreciate that sentiment more than others. It is one of those places that offers a momentary refuge in which I can be alone and unencumbered by distractions.

Anyway, this morning I was thinking about how big my kids are getting and how exciting and overwhelming it was to become a father the first time. As the water cascaded over me I remembered a moment that I had forgotten about.

I had gone downstairs for a cup of coffee or something and was just heading back to the maternity ward when I passed a woman and a few others crying. They looked vaguely familiar and I remember thinking that I thought that I knew them from the Lamaze class.

As I walked past I heard whispers of conversation and I got the feeling that something had happened. She had been pregnant with twins and for some reason I took those whispers to mean that something had happened to one of her babies.

Now I never did get confirmation of that, it is not really something that you ask. But for a moment it really took my breath away because for the first time in my life I truly understood the joy that a child can bring and the fear that can come with being a parent.

So even though these wacky children sometimes make me want to scream, I never forget how lucky we really are. They are good kids.

D-Day

Today is D-Day. On June 6, 1944 the Invasion of Normandy began.

It is a time to remember and give thanks to the people who fought for us. There is no doubt that without their sacrifice and contribution the world would be a different place than it is today.

If you are familiar with Saving Private Ryan then you have seen Spielberg’s dramatization of the moment.

Here are a few links and some videos that you can use to learn more about it.

Encyclopædia Britannica
US Army

Inspiring Movie Moments

Not a bad list, I enjoyed a lot of this.

How Many Blogs Do you Read?

I don’t know about you but with the proliferation of all of the time saving devices I seem to have less time than I did before. In addition “real life” obligations have taken away a chunk of time that I used to have as well.

I just don’t have time to read the way that I used to, or should I say that I don’t seem to have time to read and comment as often as I’d like to.

Anyway, I am curious. How many blogs do you read and do you think that Twitter has had an impact upon that?

Bad Meals Aggravate Me

If I was still writing a weekly column you can be assured that food would be a relatively consistent topic. I love to eat, wouldn’t cliaim to be an expert. You aren’t going to label me as a gourmand or foodie but I have a decent palate.

In the old good old days when cash wasn’t flowing straight into the coffers of private schools there was enough left over to enjoy nice meal at a restaurant that wasn’t represented by creepy kings or clowns.

The chance to go out and have a good steak or enjoy great sushi once a month or even every couple of months was something that I really enjoyed. Ah, fond memories of my youth and days of fewer responsibilities. Someone hand me a skull so that I can do my bit from Hamlet, “alas poor Yorick, I knew him well.”

And now back to food. For the three people who read this and know me in real life, a bad meal really irks me. It is not like everything has to be perfect. It would be great if every meal was exceptional, but that is just not reality. I get that, I understand it and I don’t mind.

But a truly bad meal is something that just sets me off. On the grand scale of things, the great injustices of life this is truly trivial. But sometimes when you are really hungry the last thing you want is a meal that is bad.

So let me lay out what I consider a bad meal to be. There is the obvious choice of consuming food that makes you ill. That is a bad meal. However, it doesn’t always start out that way. If you think about it I am sure that you can remember having eaten something that tasted good, but made you sick.

The truly bad meal is the one that you eat when you are starving but find to be bland, burned, dry, overcooked, undercooked or whatever other adjective you want to add. Think of eating a bar of soap or brussel sprouts and you’ll get what I am talking about.

That is a bad meal. It leaves you feeling let down and discouraged. And now that I have vented about that you’ll excuse me as I have to go get something to eat.

Lakers V. Orlando

Lakers V. Orlando

Lakers in six or less. Kobe is unstoppable.

Playing it Safe

You can blame a lot of things on a man turning 40. There are all of the traditional and stereotypical things going on here. The desire for a sports car, the need to feel young and vibrant etc.

I admit to feeling all of those things. But I also can say that I truly don’t feel old. Ok, so that is a contradiction to some of what I have said. I do feel the pressure of time. I do feel like there are more responsibilities and fewer chances to take a risk. All that is true.

But it doesn’t change the overall feeling inside that I really am not old. I may not look like I did at twenty. I may have some mystery aches and pains that didn’t exist, but mentally I don’t feel like an old guy.

Ask my children and they’ll tell you that their dad is a big kid. I chase them around the house ans wrestle with them. Little Jack and play handball. I challenge and win races against he and his friends all the time.

Ok, not that impressive to beat a bunch kids. But give me a break. In ten years they’ll be on the verge of entering their peak and I’ll be fifty. Got to take advantage of the opportunity to win while I can. And believe me, I am not conceding anything when I am fifty.

************************

Spent several hours at a school event last night. It was a dinner for the kindergarten class of 2009-10. The dark haired beauty was in rare form. Not long before we left she told me that she is a big girl and it won’t be long before she is married and has a baby in her tummy. She emphasized the tummy part by sticking her belly out at me.

I smiled and told her that she has plenty of time to learn and grow before she becomes a mommy. She told me that she is ready. So I leaned over and told her that I am ready to speak to any boy that wants to help her become a mommy. She looked at me and told me that I wasn’t going to speak to them, I am going to punch them in the nose.

Good to see that she understands the score. Truth is that little girl is going to take some little boy and turn him inside out. But just in case, I will be there. Good to know that she knows that.

Anyway, at the dinner I made a point of playing with the kids and then moseyed off to hang out with some of the fathers. We made the usual small talk about life. Batted around the idea of retirement and how if we pulled our kids out of private school we could retire earlier.

I laughed. Some of those guys are making so much money it is hard to believe that retirement is an issue that they worry about. Some of them played it safe, doctors and attorneys who moved into the family practice. I don’t fault them for it.

At times I have wondered if I didn’t make a mistake by playing it safe. There are easier paths to walk than the one that I have chosen. There are fewer bumps and bruises to be had by hiking the trail that has already been blazed. But that is not me. I like trying to Shoot the Moon. I like the razor’s edge.

The trick is be aware of where you are at. I don’t want to become the next Icarus. If it works. If I find that way to make it all happen then all is good. And if it doesn’t, well, I have a fall back plan. The hard part is that falling back could end up being a literal experience and that is where my age comes into play.

It is not that you can’t get back up, but the bruises and aches have a way of hanging on a bit longer than they did in the past. I guess that we’ll see what happens.

Danger in Kids Playground?

Danger in Kids Playground?

Well this isn’t the sort of thing that you want to read about, especially since my kids school has this stuff.

SAN FRANCISCO – The federal government is reconsidering whether sports fields and playgrounds made from ground-up tires could harm children’s health after some Environmental Protection Agency scientists raised concerns, documents show.

The EPA is concluding a limited study of air and surface samples at four fake-surface fields and playgrounds that use recycled tires — the same material used under the Obama family’s new play set at the White House.

Although the EPA for years has endorsed recycled-rubber surfaces as a means of decreasing playground injuries, its own scientists now have pointed to research suggesting potential hazards from repeated exposure to bits of shredded tire that can contain carcinogens and other chemicals, according to internal EPA documents.

http://wwwjackbenimble.blogspot.com/2009/06/danger-in-kids-playground.html#ixzz0JqQOk0Lq&D

What Happens When You Die

What Happens When You Die

The Shmata Queen and I have an ongoing discussion about what happens to people when they die. That wacky woman isn’t convinced that anything comes after this. You could sum up her position as life followed by death, end of story.

No heaven, no hell. Just a dirt nap during which time your corpse is eaten away, dissolving into dust.

I understand how and why she came to this position. The afterlife is based solely on faith. You can’t call your travel agent and book a flight. You can’t take a boat or a bus to get there. There is no tangible proof that it exists. She wants hard evidence. She wants a scientific proof to hang onto and we can’t give it to her.

This discussion about death is one that we have had a million times. I don’t try to convince her to rely upon faith. I leave religion out of it. Faith isn’t something that you can teach. You believe or you don’t believe. To me it is a highly personal thing and I can respect that.

So the question is what do I have to offer that isn’t based upon a belief that religious dictates are factual. To me it comes back to our children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and those that follow them. Our descendants and the memories that they carry forward or fail to carry forward are the key.

When I look at my children I see reflections of the past and glimpses of the future. There are physical markers that we can use. For example if you look at my son there are shared features. His hands and feet are virtual duplicates of mine. And of course he has many of my mannerisms and that leads me to hypothesize that some of those are things that really come from several generations ago.

If you watch my father walk through a store you’ll often see him with his hands behind his back. That comes from what he was taught when he was a little boy. Watch my son and I and you’ll often see us do that. So you could argue that something that started in the early ’40s still happens 60 some years later.

But there are other things. Things that my zaide taught my grandfather who passed it along to my dad, to me and then to my son. So we can argue that something that might have started in a shtetl in Lithuania in the 19th century is still with us in the 21st.

In addition there are the stories that we hear about relatives. My maternal grandfather has pictures of his grandmother and grandfather on the wall. They died somewhere in the early ’30s. My mother and aunt haven’t any personal memories of them, but we all know a few stories about them.

We all can tell you the story about the cab driver in Chicago who ran into my grandfather’s grandfather and knocked him down. And we can all tell you about how he picked himself up, dusted himself off and then punched the cab driver in the nose.

Here we are in 2009 talking about a man who was born somewhere around the end of the Civil War.

There are other stories that we know. Tales of family who fled the Cossacks and hid in the fields. Tales of the great grandfather who fought the police and helped tailors form a union. Stories of a great grandmother who loved to go dancing.

The point is that for me that keeps them from being totally gone. Though they might not be alive in the truest sense of the word, they aren’t completely gone.

It reminds me a bit of a conversation that we had when my friend ‘D’ died eleven years ago. Would he be forgotten and left behind, just one more soul who was taken far too young. I don’t think so. While I won’t ever have memories of him as an old man, I won’t forget him either.

And for me that works, it is enough. As long as the stories remain we can stick around. And given the advantages of modern technology there are a lot of tools. There are endless videos that we are a part of and things like this blog.

What do you think?

Clint Eastwood Clips

After yesterday I decided to share some of those clips here:

Unforgiven

The Good The Bad and the Ugly Finale

Gran Torino was a great movie too.

Happy Blogiversary Jack

Happy Blogiversary Jack

Welcome friends to another self indulgent post, but that is what a blogiversary is all about. It is a chance to congratulate yourself for surviving another year of blogging as well as a chance to engage in a bit of introspection.

So here I am with the fifth edition of the obligatory blogiversary post. If you are interested in reading what I wrote in previous blogiversary posts take a look at the following links. While I guarantee that there is a certain amount of repetition I can promise you that there was little to no mention of Chumus or waffles.

A Blogiversary
Happy Blogivesary To Me
My Third Blogiversary- Not Quite a Farewell
My Fourth Blogiversary- What Do I have To Say

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In five years of blogging I have produced about ten thousand posts, but not all of them appeared here. Some of them were written on group blogs and some on one of the private blogs I operate.

If you haven’t figured it out, not every post here is factual. Quite a number are stories that I made up. I enjoy writing and I take pleasure out of telling stories. Many of those stories may have an element or two that have been borrowed from “real life,” but the majority do not.

Over the years I have received more than one email inquiring for the back story on some of these posts. Some have even thought they were the topic or inspiration for a post or two. For the sake of clarity, if you have to ask if I was writing about you then you can be sure that I wasn’t.

I am not cryptic. If I want to send a message I come right out and say it in the post or via email. I enjoy fulminating as much if not more than the next guy.

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They tell me that when you celebrate your fifth wedding anniversary you are supposed to give some sort of gift that is related to wood. Not that I am asking for anything, besides I have all of the firewood that I need.

Anyhoo, let’s move on shall we.

I haven’t any regrets about becoming a blogger, whatever the hell that means. Writing is a joy and a passion. It is an outlet that I use to express my thoughts and feelings. This joint has served as the venue for a lot of learning. It has been the spot where I chronicle my life and those I care about.

It has served as an opportunity to make new friends and at times it has been a battle zone. For better or for worse old Jack has had his moments where he has tried to be the dragon slayer. Did I gain anything from it. Did it help or hinder me? Well I am still answering some of those questions.

The challenge of maintaining a personal blog in a public space is that your words/thoughts are there to be interpreted or misinterpreted by any who come by. Sometimes it is good and sometimes it is bad. If you choose to follow this path you have to be prepared to accept what comes with it.

Overall it has been a great experience. And while there is no doubt that if I had to do it all over again there are things that I would do differently. That is part of the joy of life. We live and we learn. Most of the time when I read old posts over I cringe. I see a dozen different things that I wish I would have done differently. I read it and think that it could have been so much better.

But the thing about this blog is that it is not a professional effort. It is just a few thoughts from some guy at his computer so I am comfortable with it. I don’t make myself crazy trying to be perfect every time. Maybe if someone starts paying me to do this I will.

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If you are still reading then you are about to enter the place where I speak about the future. Blogging isn’t the same bright, shiny penny it used to be. While I still like it, I can’t say that it brings me the same constant joy it once did. That is a way of saying that I still haven’t a clue as to how much longer I’ll do this.

Sometimes I think that I’ll try to go for another five years. That would be kind of cool, a full decade of blogging. But if there is one thing that I have learned it is that you can’t predict that far into the future with much accuracy. There are just too many variables.

So I’ll make the promise that I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here. Could be a long time, could be short. If I do decide to give it up I’d like to be the guy who just rides off into the sunset. Maybe I’ll be Shane, who knows.

And while we are talking about Westerns, let me say that I am a Clint Eastwood fan. There are a ton of movies that I could link to, but I’ll go with a couple of my favorites Unforgiven and The Good, The Bad And The Ugly.

Will Munny: All right, I’m coming out. Any man I see out there, I’m gonna shoot him. Any sumbitch takes a shot at me, I’m not only gonna kill him, but I’m gonna kill his wife, all his friends, and burn his damn house down.
Will Munny: Any man don’t wanna get killed better clear on out the back.

And

“You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns, and those who dig. You dig.” — Blondie (Clint Eastwood) to Tuco (Eli Wallach) in The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

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It has been fun. Thanks for being a part of it.

Judaism-Interdenominational Melee Thoughts

I am working on or at least thinking about two posts. The first is my “Why are you Jewish” and the second is the self indulgent happy blogiversary post that I want/need to write. In between I decided to touch upon both of these with a comment or two about some things that are going on.

Or should I say that I am sort of revisiting topics that never really go away. There is an ongoing struggle within Judaism for control of the future of the religion. It is a battle that is not limited to Judaism, it is something that you see in all religions.

I’ll apologize in advance for not providing a glossary or explanation of all the ideas and thoughts here, I am pressed for time.

From a Judaic standpoint you can boil it down to whether Torah is Min ha-shamayim or not. Did Hashem give Moshe the Torah or was it divinely inspired. There are significant differences in interpretation and that makes all the difference.

Some of you may remember a show from the late 70′s/’80s or so called The Greatest American Hero. I like using it to try and explain some of my thoughts on this. Here is the YouTube description of the show:

A teacher is asked to be a superhero using a special alien suit with powers he can barely understand or control, after losing the instruction manual. He is aided by a Government Agent. Along with his lawyer girlfriend, together they figure out not only how to control the suit, but to right wrongs.

The hero, Ralph has this incredible suit, but only the foggiest idea how to use it. So he has to learn by undergoing a trial and error learning process. At times it is painful, flying is hard and his landings are painful. Gradually he figures it out and in time comes to be fairly proficient at using it.

That is similar to one explanation I heard many years ago about Torah. Granted it doesn’t touch upon the Oral Law, which I think is a mistake.

A better explanation would be to tie it into the concept of Originalism as it applies to the U.S. Constitution. Given the current nominee for the court you might enjoy reading through it.

Anyhoo, the idea if you are not familiar with it is that the founding fathers wrote the document and we should follow the intent without any sort of deviation. That is opposed by the idea of a living Constitution. That allows for a more flexible interpretation of the law.

To me the latter makes far more sense. Life is not what it was two hundred years ago, let alone 2,500 years. We moved from believing that slavery was ok, that some people were worth less because of their skin color. We understand now that the sun doesn’t revolve around the earth and that the earth is not flat.

So it makes sense that we explore and consider what we are doing and why. If you cannot engage in self examination there is a problem. If you dare not challenge your beliefs then maybe you haven’t got enough of a foundation to support it.

All that being said faith is a central component of it all. I challenge much, but at the same time there are things that I just accept based upon faith alone. It is not always logical or rational, but in general it works for me.

Here is an old joke that I have shared on the blog before:

A modern Orthodox Jewish couple, preparing for a religious wedding, meets the rabbi who is supposed to perform the ceremony. The rabbi asks if they have any last questions before they leave.

The man asks, “Rabbi, we realize it’s tradition for men to dance with men, and women to dance with women. But, we’d like your permission to dance together.”

The rabbi answers, “No way! “Men and women always dance separately!”

The man then asks, “So after the ceremony you mean I can’t even dance with my own wife?”

The rabbi replies, “It’s forbidden!”

The man asks, “Can we finally have sex?”

The rabbi replies, “Of course! Sex is a mitzvah within marriage, to have many children!”

“What about different positions?” asked the man?

“No problem,” says the rabbi, “It’s a mitzvah!”

“Well then, how about a woman on top?” the man asks.

Rabbi replies, “It’s mitzvah!”

“How about Doggy Style?”

“Another mitzvah!”

“On the kitchen table?”

“A mitzvah!”

“Can we do it on rubber sheets with a bottle of hot oil, a couple of vibrators, a leather harness, a bucket of honey and a porno film?”

“It’s all a mitzvah!”

“Can we do it standing up?”

“NO, NO, NO!” cries the rabbi.

“Well, why not?” asks the man.

Rabbi answers, “Could lead to dancing!”

And here are some posts that are somewhat related to this topic. I need to pick it up again at a later date and get an earlier start on it.

As an FYI, some of these posts were written quite some time ago. I need to review them and determine if I still agree with everything I wrote. In any case, I’ll put them here so that I can find them.

Who is A Jew
Robbing The Bride and Groom
Jews- The Interdenominational Melee
Prayer In School
Second Guessing Ourselves- Elul Times Two
The Future of Judaism
Orthodox Versus Jewry- Or My Blood is More Jewish
My Brother- A Lesson in Simple Physics

Chumus Wars

If you Google the word Chumus, you’ll see that my friend Benji has the market locked up on the top results. Today I decided that I just can’t accept that so we’re taking steps to correct it.

I am going to build a script that inserts Chumus into all 7,000 of the posts here and within no time at all I’ll be the top dog.

It is a prelude to the coming marketing storm when our chain of restaurants Chumus King opens up worldwide. Soon the mighty CK will enter the arena sweeping the competition aside and giving hope to inferior and weak falafel balls everywhere.

That whisper you hear will grow from a barely audible Chumus to a mighty roar of CHUMUS!

Monday Night Music Madness

Here is a snapshot of what I have been listening to this evening.

Mansions of The Lord
Crying- Roy Orbison
I Drove All Night- Roy Orbison
The Thrill is Gone- B.B. King
While My Guitar Gently Weeps- The Beatles
5th Symphony-Shostakovich
Adagio for Strings, op.11- Samuel Barber (This is the 9-11 tribute, very powerful.)
Ten Years Kashmir II-Corner Stone Cues
Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring Soundtrack Part 8- Howard Shore