Shades of Grey

What a vain thing is my ego!  This is a screenshot from the Bologna ceremony marking Holocaust Memorial Day at which a group from Or 'Ammim was present. It's a screenshot at the end of a brief report on local TV last week. Front and right you can see our Gabriello and, with her back to the camera, the rav aj. And my first thought upon seeing this was, omg, my hair is sooooo grey!

I think today is the day I finally have to accept that my hair is not dark with some grey, but grey with some dark. Yes of course I can dye it again, but that's not the point.

 

Sheila D Hill MBE 1928-2022

News has just reached me of the death of Sheila Hill. A tweet from the Marylebone Cricket Club announced that:

"MCC is deeply saddened to hear of the passing of Sheila Hill, MBE. 

Sheila helped shape the Laws of Cricket and was instrumental in the training of umpires around the world.

Her contribution to cricket cannot be overestimated, and our condolences go to her family and friends."

In the world beyond cricket, for me and countless others, Miss Hill was our teacher at SPGS. I was in her Maths division for 5 years. 

I am grateful to her for two things in particular.  Firstly, that although I did not feel I was good enough to be in Div 1, she never doubted that it was where I belonged. Secondly, and I'm not sure how to explain this, Miss Hill had a certain aura. My form in particular had a bit of a rep for being naughty. However, in Miss Hill's presence you behaved. It never even crossed your mind to do otherwise. She never raised her voice, she never expressed frustration or any negative emotion. She was calm and correct, and we did maths. And once in a while there was even a twinkle in her eye. But we knew nothing about her life outside the classroom, not even the cricket. 

Throughout my years of being a teacher, Miss Hill has been a model for me. How a teacher can hold the attention of a class like a swan, serene on the surface, doing all the work out of sight. She clearly loved her subject, and wanted us to find it enjoyable rather than onerous (I still remember how to make a hexiflexagon!). May she rest in peace.

NB  Some of her cricket statistics may be found here. And a tribute from Middlesex Cricket may be found here.

It's All Relative - Da Vinci Code Piglet

Yesterday I somehow found myself back on Flickr, browsing through 124 old photos of mine that still sit in a gallery waiting for attention. This photo of Piglet in the courtyard at the Louvre, so tiny against the lamp-post, yet as tall as I M Pei's pyramid, helps to remind me that sometimes it is all about perspective.

Wishing you all a safe & healthy week!

So, Farewell Meatloaf

 

Most famous for his best-selling album "Bat Out of Hell", singer Meatloaf's death was announced today. His style of music was not one I thought I liked. But each time I hear his song "Paradise by the Dashboard Light", I am instantly transported back 40 years ago to a journey from Zichron Yaakov to Eilat for a long weekend, 5 of us squashed in a tiny car with no A/C, and only one tape to play. Young and stupid and broke, we slept on the beach (until the rats arrived c. 4 am, followed soon after by the police to move us on), and on someone's porch. We enjoyed the sun and the sea and the World Cup football on tv. The trip concluded in the lobby of a fancy hotel where, with our last shekels combined, we ordered one milkshake and 5 straws. Driving back, hungry and sunburnt and still squashed in the back seat, I can still hear so very clearly the words from the car stereo: "I'm praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you." 

It took us a while to recover from that holiday! As I sit here now, listening to a Meatloaf mix on Spotify, this memory, filtered by time, comes back sweetly. I smile as I remember my friends and the fun we had together. And I notice that Meatloaf had a great voice. May he rest in peace.

Dr King's Message Still Speaks to Us Today

Found this cool photo last night. The chap with the blue X on the left is my father. And I think the one on the far right with a blue Y on his pocket may be Rev. Andrew Young. It was taken on 21st March 1965 during the Civil Rights demonstration that marched from Selma to Montgomery in Alabama.

In the USA tomorrow it will be Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I grew up with stories of the Civil Rights movement and the importance of working together for justice and peace. However, the events of the last few years had greatly dented my hope that such things are still achievable.

Yesterday was not a great day. Just before going to bed here in Europe, news started coming in of a hostage situation in a Reform synagogue near Dallas. A rabbi and 3 congregants were being held by an unknown person who had walked into a Shabbat morning service. I am glad to say that, after several hours of negotiation, and then the intervention of a FBI Rescue team, all hostages were released without physical harm. The gunman was shot down, and we will certainly discover more of the story in days to come.

What strikes me tonight is how people responded, at least in the world that I inhabit. With the assistance of the internet, connections for support and information were quickly made, helping those of us anxiously waiting for news. The moment that had the greatest impact for me, however, was the swift organisation of an online place of meeting, where we could be together, make havdalah together, and share space and emotions during a time of such tension. What struck me most was the outpouring of love and support from those of other faith traditions and none. This dreadful event brought us together, and we were able to give each other strength and hope.

It is still possible, for this is not an old dream of the 1960's. I saw something of it yesterday. Dr King told us:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."*

Today is Tu BiShvat, the New Year of the Trees, when from the depths of winter here in Europe, we look towards Spring and the return of leaves and flowers and plants and fruit. Today we planted parsley seeds, hoping to eat their leaves at our Passover Seder. Last night, at the vigil I attended, and in many others across the land, seeds were also planted, seeds of hope. In order to grow and bear fruit, all these seeds need to be cared for, fed and watered, protected from the cold and given a place in the sun. This is our task for the new year.

Baruch Atah, Adonai, Matir asurim.

Blessed are You, Adonai, who frees the captive.

* from a sermon at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery AL (25.12.1957)

Blast From the Past

The other day there was a discussion on the Retro R's page about the QPR Youth team at the end of the 1980's. In particular, there was a competition called the Southern Junior Floodlight Cup, which was won by the R's c. 1988. In my early days as an official QPR photographer, I got to cover the 2nd leg of the final. Some of the lads from back then are part of the FB group, and as photos were being shared, one of them dropped this on the page:

Gobsmacked is a good word. I've never seen this photo before. It's from one of the players, and it looks like the team is heading back to the dressing-room after the photoshoot. Is that an injured reserve hobbling in their wake? I had completely forgotten that I was still in plaster then and had to take all the pics with the wrong hand. Thank you SL for this lovely memory!

Tearless Onions!

First there were Funyuns, a tasty Frito-Lay oniony snack of the 70's. Today we are being introduced to Sunions, an almost a homophone/homograph but not quite, oniony replacement for those everyday onions that turn the greatest stoics into a weepy mess of goo. I just read about them in the Times, and so can you (if you can get past the paywall). Or you can buy a pack of 3 for £1.50 at Waitrose and test them out yourselves.

Sadly, they do not yet seem to be available in Modena, so I shall have to resort to the old-fashioned ways. In my youth, during a 3-month stint in a kibbutz kitchen where it was my job to prepare the onions each morning for hundreds of people, once my eyes had swollen to the point where I could no longer be trusted with a knife, someone would call for Eitan, and he would unlock the meat freezer and stand me in there for a couple of minutes. Nowadays, with a 2-drawer freezer in our kitchen that is too low down to stick my head in, I resort to the surprisingly successful folk method of holding a wooden spoon between my teeth whilst slicing. Such fun (yuns).

Graham's Number

So TIL two things. First of all, that TIL is short for "Today I learned". So I learned that. And I learned that there are some numbers that are so big that they are given names. There's a Googolplex, as seen in the illustration. Wiki says that "in 1920, Edward Kasner's nine-year-old nephew, Milton Sirotta, coined the term googol, which is 10 to the 100th, and then proposed the further term googolplex to be 'one, followed by writing zeroes until you get tired.'" My kind of maths!

Of course then they found even bigger numbers, as one will if you keep counting between now and infinity. There was Moser's Number. There was Skewes's Number. And then today on Only Connect someone mentioned Graham's Number, which is even bigger. Can't really get my head around that. So rather than learning what Graham's Number actually is, I have learned that there isn't enough space in the observable universe to actually write it down. I feel better about not having a big enough brain.

This also reminds me that when there is a concept that is too big to cope with 24/7, sometimes by naming it, by defining it on that level, we can keep it near us without being too overwhelmed. Then, when we feel able to look behind the name, we can have a go at relating to it on a more personal level. It could be numbers. It could be God, also.

Drawing Heritage

This is the only drawing I can ever recall seeing my mother draw, or have drawn. I'd broken my wrist playing football in the park with friends. It was my first ever cast, and I was excited for people to sign it. My mother contributed a little curly-headed stick figure with, as I've only just noticed, her right arm in a cast! And signed it, "love love love Mummy'. 

Both of my sisters are talented artists. If I put in some time to practice, I might also improve my technical skills. I have no evidence or memory at all of my father drawing anything, or any other relative. Does this mean I should understand that anything is possible, you just need to have a go (and maybe practice, a lot!)?