#DrawingTogetherGM 9: A Brave New World

In the Graphic Medicine Drawing group tonight, our host read us the following paragraph:

"Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it." (Ahrundhati Roy)

Our drawing task tonight was (in c. 12 minutes) to draw what we see on either side of such a portal. 

This is what I managed to draw (it sounds long, but 12 minutes passes very quickly):

I am gingerly making my way through the portal, but still very tentative. Not sure if I'm ready or able to face this brave new world. And here's the thing about the mask - it is really driving me nuts at the moment to see so many people outside without a mask and not keeping a healthy distance from others. I want to scream at them, PUT YOUR BLOODY MASK ON! I just don't understand why people see it as an attack on their personal freedom. If I wear a mask, it is to try and protect YOU. And it won't work very well if you don't do it as well, since success depends on a mutual commitment to the method. 

When asked to speak about my drawing to the group I said, I'd like to leave behind the idea that one is protecting oneself, and bring with the idea of supporting each other. The reason I am still neither in nor out of the portal is because I am conflicted. I want to do the right thing, but still hold onto some worry for my personal safety. 

Nu, governments everywhere are opening life up much more this coming week. I hope we can find a balance between relief from the stress of lockdown, and needing to maintain the most scrupulous standards of protection against the virus. The hot weather that is expected for the next few months may keep the germs at bay for a while, but we shouldn't forget all the asymptomatic carriers out there. 

Stay safe and stay well!

The Greatest Photo I Never Took

QPR photographer has a prime view of Andy Sinton's goal celebration

1990 FA Cup 4th round. QPR had drawn the first match at Highbury vs the League Champions, and now faced a reply at Loftus Road. Under the floodlights, it poured with rain, which in pre-digital days made action photography quite difficult. To relive the joy of beating Arsenal, there's a link below to some YouTube footage. As for my photographs, you can see in the screenshot above that when Andy Sinton scored in the final minutes to make it 2-0 and seal the victory, I had the rare opportunity to take some unique close-up shots of his celebration which, despite my excitement as a fan, I did.

A few minutes later, the game was over and I was packing up my things. I went to roll the final film back into its canister, ready for developing when I got home, and had a terrible shock - THERE WAS NO FILM IN THE CAMERA. To this day I don't understand what happened. Never did it before. Never done it since. That night, I did it. I shot a roll of stunning pictures, with no film in the camera. I can still see the photos in my head. But they do not exist. Andy's face full frame, fists clenched in victory above his head. Or not. Unbelievable. Still feel gutted every time I think of it. How could it be, and how could I not have noticed? NO BLOODY FILM IN THE CAMERA. Sigh. So the pixelly screen grab above is all that remains of that moment.

Hard to believe also that this took place 30 years ago. Looking at the screenshot again, I am amused to note that it happened in front of an ad for Panini football stickers. I now live happily in the city where the stickers are made. That's my taste of lemonade!

Who is a Mumpsimus?

We all know who they are. Now we have a name for them. Thank you, Susie! 

(NB for future reference, when the context may be too distant to remember, I suspect this might be connected to the current fuss about the PM's aide Dominic Cummings who helped to format the lockdown laws, but apparently believes they do not apply to his own behaviour)

Someone Was In This Place and I, I Did Not Know

Photo credit: Chad Grey Jet Pazaol

During a Zoom Shiva minyan today, we were asked if we had anything to share before saying Kaddish - a reading, a poem, something. We heard two wonderful poems, and then I decided to stick my oar in. 

I don't have anything so beautifully crafted to offer, I said, I just wanted to tell you something that happened this afternoon when we went to do a big shop at the supermarket. The way the car licence plates are in this city, each one begins with 2 letters. As we were driving around, we kept seeing plates that began with the beginning of my mother's name, Evelyn. (in fact, I did say to L that if anyone had ever tried to address my mother as "Ev", they would have been fixed with a steely glare. Nevertheless it was clear to me that all the EV's we were seeing were referring to her)

We were on a mission to find the ingredients and baking tools to make our first ever cheesecake, in honour of the festival of Shavuot this week. My mother's cranberry cheesecake (a recipe from the New York Times in the early 1960's) is legendary. We decided that these signs were friendly messages of encouragement from her for our cheesecake ambitions.

I didn't want to sound flaky in front of my colleagues, but since my parents have died, I have seen their initials on car licence plates as them waving hello to me. I never noticed these letter combinations when they were still living, but now they jump out at me all over the place. I find it quite comforting to receive these greetings.

That's what I told the minyan. And then, one of our colleagues noted that the messages have always been there, but it took the mourning for us to look at the world around us in a different way. She offered Biblical examples, such as Jacob's dream (Genesis 28:  10-16), to illustrate the idea that after an intense and life-changing experience we see the world in a different way. She said it with more elegance.

So maybe, for those of us mourning, it may be of comfort to consider that all the signs we see in the world around us that remind us of the pain of our loss in these early weeks and months may one day become the catalysts for happy memories.

(I'm Late, I'm Late, for a Very Important Torah Portion) Shmita

Photo: Ariel J Friedlander

This week's Torah portion, no, stay for a moment, do, is Behar-Bechukotai (Leviticus 25:1 - 27:34).  (NB things happened, and I didn't post this in time, but am still putting it up to help me remember)

Sometimes it is a challenge to find contemporary relevance in the ancient text. This morning, we read about letting one's fields lie fallow every seventh year. This practice is commonly known as Shmita. I am a person of the city, as members of my family have been for generations. We have read about ploughshares and pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4), but probably couldn't recognise one and certainly wouldn't know how to use them. At first glance, my contemporary experience makes Shmita seem rather esoteric.

It is also taught that the mitzvah/commandment of Shmita is traditionally an obligation for Jews living in the land of Israel. Of course there's no reason why, just because one is not obligated to do something, that one cannot choose to do it. Not obligated does not mean forbidden. And there's also no reason why, just because one isn't a farmer, one cannot find a way to give the Earth a bit of a rest.

Perhaps, living out of touch with the seasons and cycles of the land in which we live, we don't realise just how much damage we have already done, and how it is escalating. Our planet needs relief from our constant and devastating demands. The next Shmita period begins on Rosh Hashanah of next year (2021), so we have some time to plan. In 2014-15,  I remember that L's teacher, Rabbi Debbie Young-Somers, decided to try and live, along with her family, for the whole year of Shmita without buying anything new, e.g, furniture, kitchen items, clothing, etc. She felt strongly that, "the continual purchasing many of us practice now, easily becomes mindless and is hugely damaging to the earth." (Jewish News 02.02.19) It's not an easy way to live, because it asks us to let go of our need for instant and spontaneous gratification. Not forever, but long enough to give the Earth a break. Maybe we should consider doing it in some form or other.

If you're not sure if it's worth it, now we are beginning to be allowed outside again, just look at the difference after only a few weeks. The sky is clear, the air is fresh, the rivers are clean ... the pandemic that has ravaged the human community, and kept us from much of the behaviour that regularly poisons the natural world, has allowed the Earth to begin to heal. I fear we shall soon forget this blessing, but hope that we might be inspired to find ways to help it to continue. Learning more about Shmita may be a way to go.

Here's a link to Hazon & the Shmita project if you'd like to read more about it.

Meanwhile, I just want to note how incredible it is that we happen to be reading this particular Torah portion exactly when our contemporary lives are dealing with themes embedded in this ancient text. Maybe it is coincidence, or maybe, just maybe, the reason the Torah has endured so long is because, as Ben Bag Bag said over 1500 years ago, "Turn it over and (again) turn it over, for all is therein." (Pirkei Avot 5:22). 

Shavua Tov!

Drawing Together

Today was a day of work and drawing. There was joy for the hard work and great questions asked by my students taking their first steps in learning Hebrew. Then I joined the Graphic Medicine "Drawing Together" workshop for the first time. What a wonderfully safe place to do some drawing! We were given 10 minutes to draw 4 imaginary insects in 4 panels:

Then, in the next 10 minutes, we were invited to imagine a conversation between two of our insects:

Finally, we had a chance to show our work to the other (c. 45) people in the Zoom Room. Despite my current self-promotion, I find it makes me very anxious to let others see what I draw. It has felt a bit easier to share what I've done whilst under lockdown. Sending things out into the world when I remain safely in my bubble seems a little less scary! So I enjoyed what others had done and, right at the end of the session, held my page up to the camera. I hope to join the group again next week.

But the drawing wasn't over for the day. I checked Instagram (I'd posted a sweet photo of a flower in a friend's window box yesterday) and saw a short video showing how to draw Charlie Brown. So I thought I'd have a go.

NB when I was 11, the first Art task at SPGS was to paint a self portrait. Emptying our mother's flat, my sister recently came across that painting, lost for an unmentionable number of years:

That was the first version. And earlier this evening, this is what I managed to draw:

Hopefully the Snoopygrams Insta will offer guides to drawing the other characters also. I'll be keeping my eyes open. 

This was really a good day. I haven't even mentioned the wonderful Ayurvedic massage from L to help me recover from my little fall on Friday (everything's fine, poo poo poo, just a rather bruised dignity). It is important to remember the good days. Vi auguro una buona settimana.

93rd Birthday for the Twins

93 years ago today in her apartment, my grandmother Sali gave birth to a baby boy. Afterwards, she got up for a cup of coffee and a cigarette, whilst her husband Alex ran to the public phone to call his friends down at the Stube. "I'm a father!" he told them, "I have a son!"

A while later, as the midwife was preparing to leave, Sali felt a bit strange. The midwife examined her and said, "there's another baby coming!" And so my father became a twin. Alex went rushing back to the phone to call his friends again, "I have a son!" he cried. "Alex, you're drunk," they said, "you already told us!" "No, no, no," he replied, "I have another son!"

On what would have been my father and my uncle's 93rd birthday, I think of them with love. This year it happens to coincide with Mother's Day, and so I think also of my grandmother, who lived in an era when twins were a surprise.

Albert with his mother in Cincinnati in 1949

Unusual Baby Names

with Downy, noch!

As someone who suffered (a bit) as a child from having an unusual first name (I was called "Persil" at school for several years as a result), stories about celebrities cursing their kids in this way catch my eye. Viz the recent naming by Elon Musk & his partner Grimes of their baby boy, who is to be known as X Æ A-12. According to Jack Guy at CNN, the parents disagree on how to pronounce it:

"(Grimes) previously explained that Æ is the Elven spelling of AI, which is shorthand for artificial intelligence. 'It's just X, like the letter X. Then A.I. Like how you said the letter A then I,' wrote Grimes on Thursday in a response to a query on Instagram.

However, Muse told podcast host Joe Rogan a different pronunciation of the name in a conversation released Thursday ... 'I mean it's just X, the letter X. And then, the Æ is, like, pronounced "Ash" ... and then, A-12.'"

This reminds me of the character 5 in Peanuts:

But in the end, the last word has to go to Caitlin Moran, who noted yesterday in the Times:

"Ever keen not to pass judgment, I wish  merely to observe that, in naming their child, Musk and Grimes appear to have chosen a "strong" password, comprising letters, numerals and punctuation, and if it takes naming your baby that to remember how to log into your Gmail account, fair enough."

Thank you for laughing at her joke.

Mother's Day USA 2020

She wore a hat so well!

It's Mother's Day tomorrow in the USA. When my mother was alive, we would celebrate together on Mothering Sunday, a UK holiday earlier in the year. Our thing was for her to let me take her out for Chinese food. We'd go to her favourite restaurant around the corner, run by the Dragon Lady. When it closed down, we'd go to the Red Sun in New Quebec Street.  We'd share some vegetarian spring rolls, and then she'd decide if she'd like some hot and sour soup, or some chicken and mixed vegetables, while I'd have sweet & sour tofu on egg-fried rice. In her final weeks, hot & sour soup was one of the few things that could tempt her to eat. Dear friends would bring some to the hospital, and it would bring her back towards us for just a while.

This is the first year without her on such days, and so I am thinking of her this weekend, as the internet floods my pages with special offers for the celebration of female parents. My feelings at the moment are best expressed in the eulogy I gave at her funeral last October:

Evelyn Friedlander

It’s a bit of a struggle to speak to you this afternoon. There’s rabbi Ariel, who knows how to give an eloquent hesped/eulogy. There’s the spirit of Albert, and the temptation to try and channel a bit of that for everyone here who knew him. But we are here for Evelyn. And the person who needs to speak to you is her daughter, Ariel.

I can’t find the words to describe the first chapter of our relationship. From the moment I understood the word ‘no’, we battled each other. Actually, I don’t need to tell you about it. Over the last 10 years, after my return to London, Mummy and I spoke with each other about everything that happened. I can say today that we did the best that we could. The past cannot be undone, but we spoke our truths face-to-face. Even if some things would not change, the act of naming them helped me to start letting go of what was. And, although it was hard for her, Mummy looked within herself, and responded with candour and honesty. I think we did all that was possible. 

When I kissed her goodbye in the hospital, she looked peaceful. The anger was gone.  I know that, although she was mad that I left her alone when I moved to Italy, she was also glad to see me finding my beloved Lior, building a home together, and moving forward. I feel blessed.

They say that a heart is not judged by how much you love, but how much you are loved by others (Mummy hated musicals!). I’m proud to say that my mother was dearly loved by so many friends, both old and new, both old and young. She valued her old friends, their shared experience, and that they were direct and honest with her.

Perhaps her English emotional culture, and position as the rabbi’s wife, might have created boundaries that meant not everyone would see her in depth. Younger friends, however, had no such barriers. She loved the light and energy they brought into her life, and shared herself with them in a way that perhaps was not possible in earlier years.

Her last advice to me, well, if she were here now she would probably say you are saying um too much. But just a few days ago she said, DON’T TAKE ANY SSSTUFF FROM ANYONE. BE TRUE TO YOURSELF. Ok, she didn’t say ssstuff. I think it sums up perfectly what she learned in her lifetime. Mummy was angry and beautiful, charming and insecure, intelligent and stubborn. She was interested in learning about the world around her, and enjoyed being the centre of attention. She had talent and skill, but it took her many years to find the field in which she could be Evelyn, rather than prodigy or parent or partner. She dealt, as we all do, with disappointments and failures. Nevertheless, she persisted. “What choice do I have?” she would say.

Now she is dead, and of all the stories I could share right now, I don’t know why, but the one that comes to mind is this:  c. 1966, the rabbi came home from a council meeting at the synagogue with a message for his wife. Albert told her that he had been asked to let her know that her skirts were too short, and she needed to do something about it. She smiled. “Of course, darling.” Evelyn went to her sewing-machine, and took another inch off every dress she had.  I hope that feistiness is in my DNA. May she rest in peace.

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

To all who celebrate Mother's Day, I hope it is joyous. To those whose mothers are no longer with them, I wish happy memories. To all who have or had troubled relationships with their mothers, I wish strength and healing.

Living under Lockdown Phase 2 Day 2: The Sounds of Spring

It's May in Modena, and the temperature is rising. People are starting to leave their windows open, and forget that everything that happens at home is now audible to all. We will get used to it again, but it will take a while. For now, well ...