Finding My Way

The other day I went to get a blood test, and went to the wrong place. They were actually demolishing the building as I arrived, so they had definitely changed their address. The foreman told me I had to go to the Casa della Salute, and sent me across town. It was the first hot day, and I was late for my appointment and extremely flustered. As I dashed through the old city streets like a flustered rat in a maze, I came upon this sign, "Via della Cerca", "Road of the Search". So I went down that road. & you know what? It took me where I needed to go. 

NB new favourite facemask created by Lior from a t-shirt I got at the Memphis Zoo when I visited the lovely Peggy Kaplan z"l many years ago. Peace, Love & Pandas!

Piglet Retrospective XVII

I'd like to say that this post of Piglet is in solidarity with the Euros Round of 16 footy match tonight between Croatia & Spain. However, tbh, Piglet isn't that much of a fan. Of course he has been to Loftus Road several times (#COYRS) but that is more a family loyalty than any real interest. 

Meanwhile, this shot recalls for me my very first trip to Italy. It was a lovely birthday gift of a long weekend in Rome with my mother, and I remember that when Piglet was done posing, I cooled off in the fountain at the bottom of the steps.

Too Close to Home

I feel sick. This Shabbat morning, as L looked out of our bathroom window and down at the car we've borrowed from her mother, she saw this graffiti carved in the dust on the bonnet. I've been watching too much CSI, because my first thought before cleaning it off was whether I might get a good fingerprint from the hand if I put some sellotape over it. 

Some of the symbols and meanings are clear, the cross, the swastika, and the imprecation (possibly the worst thing one may say in Italian) for sure. Not so sure about "adesso" or the hand. (and, as L said, even if I'd got a print from the hand, there's not necessarily proof that this same hand was responsible for the rest of the graffiti!)

On my way back upstairs, I stopped by Max the barber, a fixture in this neighbourhood for several years, with whom we are reasonably friendly. I showed him the photo, and asked if anything like this had happened before. He said no, and that if he ever saw anyone doing something like that they wouldn't arrive home in one piece! I reminded him that L & I are Jewish, so something like this is particularly disturbing, but he was adamant that it was a massive coincidence and that we were not being targeted.

L & I have discussed this from every angle. The few people who know we are Jewish, and know that is the car we use, seem utterly unlikely to behave in this way. In fact, we cannot imagine any way for someone to connect that car and our being Jewish. It may well be just a horrible coincidence. But it hurts, and I have to admit that I am feeling it even more when it has happened to us than the anger and sympathy I have felt when it happens to others. I hate to admit to such egotism, but it is so. 

This may also have something to do with the fact that just a few minutes earlier we were studying the weekly Torah portion, Balak. This is the one with the talking donkey (eat your heart out Shrek fans), and we got into a bit of a discussion about the power of words. I remembered that when I was little and somebody said something mean, you were supposed to throw back at them "sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me!" It was a good attempt to reduce the influence such words - fatso, four-eyes, Christ-killer - might have had on my psyche, at least I had a comeback, but I don't remember that it really helped much. 

In Judaism, words have great power - God used them to create the world ... throughout the Torah there are consequences for what people say as well as what they do ... lashon ha-ra was and is considered akin to murder (of the soul if not the body) - we are taught, and should understand that words - in written or pictorial form - can really hurt. Immediately after our Or 'Ammim discussion on this topic, real life bit us on the bottom. Funny how that worked out.

Nu, what now? Perhaps we will inform the local police, just for it to be on the record. As I write these words I am singing along with my favourite NFTY songs (starting with the first and second albums), trying to salve my soul. Will I develop an improved empathy that translates into a proactive response next time others are hurt? I hope so.

And Another Anniversary Comes Rolling Along ...

This is Sara Dina bat Shmuel Zaynvill u'Feige. I think the photo must have been taken in the 1900s. She was born in Teschen in 1890, and grew up to become Salome Hoschander Friedlander, my grandmother, aka Mutti. She died in Appleton, WI on 23rd June 1965.

I can't say that I remember her, although this fuzzy photo my father must've taken is proof that we did actually meet:

From what I've been able to deduce, Mutti was the source of what was sweet and kind and loveable on that side of the family, as evidenced by all three of her children. May she rest in peace.

Born 81 Years Ago Today

She was never one for parties, but always up for doing something celebratory, I wonder what we might have done today if my mother were still alive. Always a cake (I do wonder if this year I would have dared to try and stretch my newly-developed baking skills and made one?!). In recent years we'd gone to the theatre, had tea at the Wolseley, a visit to Portmerion, a weekend at a charming inn in the Yorkshire Dales, lunch at the Ivy, lots of Chinese food. Whatever she would've been up for I'm sure it would have been elegant and tasty and celebratory. 

In honour of her 81st birthday, here is a contact sheet which was probably in preparation for PR for one of her concerts. Teenage Evelyn, full of energy and passion. May her memory be for a blessing!

 

Another Empty Father's Day

A long time ago in an apartment far far away a first-time father and his daughter are happy to be together.

Since 17 years ago next month no more hugs. Miss them every day, not only on this Hallmark day. And I know I am lucky to have happy memories.

 

Trooping the Piglet

This weekend the UK celebrates the 95th official birthday of Queen Elizabeth II. Trooping the Colour is an official parade that marks such a day. A few years ago, Piglet (thanks to his friend Angel) was able to have a behind-the-scenes tour of the stables where the horses of the Horse Guards live. Here he is meeting one of the Guards.

Words of the Day

 

Today I had to translate many words. A lot of words. And sentences. And idioms and metaphors. Mostly it was quite fun (except when I got a bit stuck). Luckily my beloved L has the Italian literary and linguistic background that I lack, God bless her.

My favourite English word of the day that I learned is "acephalous" ("acefale").

My favourite Italian word of the day is "tarlo" ("woodworm").

O, and I came across this delightful phrase:  "il/la tal dei tali" which is apparently equivalent to "whatsisname" or "whatshername". I shall be looking out for an appropriate occasion to use it!

A History of Inclusivity

It is Pride month, and I've just seen the new incarnation of the Pride flag. It now includes, on the left-hand side, a part of the Intersex flag. Hurrah for that!

If you don't quite know what it means to be intersex, please take a moment to learn. The need for me to understand more fully was just highlighted by reading a factoid that there are at least as many intersex people as there are people with red hair. Often I just don't realise how binary my way of thinking can be. Or what unconscious prejudices I may have. But I can do something about that!

Do please let me know where you find the most helpful information, and then I can add it to this post. 

Thank you, & Happy Pride!

Beans Beans They're Good for Your ...

... soul. This week our Drawing Together workshop was led by Zara Slattery from a room somewhere near Brighton. She had a bit of trouble getting into the meeting so while we waited, J suggested we should think about what we would like to be, to do well, in our next life, and then create a quick self-portrait. 

Cue my usual panic. Sometimes it's a bit boring. Anyway, I decided I'd like to be someone good at drawing, and spent much of my 3 minutes trying to reduce the size of the hand to less that that of the head. Our leader arrived, and asked us to draw beans. She drew a kidney bean. But it could be any kind of bean. We worked on a more 3-D representation. Then we had to smoosh our beans into 2-D and then 3-D shapes. I got stuck. Zara tried to help, but my mind was too resistant. Very frustrating.

Next we had to find words for emotions during a journey. In that instant of decision I could travel no further than the journey of that hour. And then we were asked to draw a 4-panel story of the beans going on that chosen journey expressing the words we had written down:

Next we had a couple of minutes to create symbols for each of the emotions. Zara talked about drawing bunnies and seagulls and I got tangled up in not knowing how to find a suitable creature let alone draw it but she gave us the out that we could also scribble so I scribbled away.

Finally we were to draw a map with a path around the outside into which our symbols would be placed to mark the passage of the journey. Then we were asked to draw our human beans in the middle of the map, going on that journey. Zara spoke beautifully about medieval manuscripts illuminated around the edges, and that led me to the memory of my favourite teacher ever, Mr Denham in the 4th year at Bousfield, who would only mark pages of homework if the margins were illustrated. I drew my path, and then it was time to add the beans:

I wanted to end on a positive note so I got my bean out of there. And then I got to see some of the drawings of others. It was another great hour in a safe and supportive place. And I'm getting better at not giving up, and having a go, although still with a bit of a hissy fit. But I like my beans! Thank you Zara & the Drawing Together team. See you in a month!

Piglet Retrospective XV

The day that Elvis met Piglet at Graceland. Clearly a bucket-list moment for them both. We took this for a birthday card for my father, who spent his first years in Mississippi in the town of Baldwyn MS with the wonderful Gorden family (whose son Phillip was born in Tupelo in the same hospital & 2 weeks apart from Elvis). As you can see, Elvis was thrilled to hear of this connection.

It was quite wonderful to see Graceland. And you may remember from my February post that this was also when I was chased by the security guard, who thought that I had stolen Piglet from the graveside collection of fuzzy tributes. 

When We Need a Little Joy

Someone just posted this photograph on the RetroQPR Facebook page. It is from the 89th minute of the Championship Final at Wembley in 2014 between Derby County & QPR. We had played most of the match down to 10 men after Gary O'Neil had been sent off for a professional foul. Our defence was valiant, but we really didn't look like scoring. Then, from a throw-in on the right, Junior Hoilett made it to the by-line and sent a cross over. Derby's Keogh misplayed it and Bobby Zamoooooooooooooooooora blasted the ball into the top left-hand corner of the net. In the 89th minute. Of a 90-minute match.

At first look, you might notice that the ball, the goalie indeed all the players are out of focus at this important moment. And then you realise, the ball is about to cross the line, but it hasn't yet. And what is in focus? The crowd. Look at the faces. Everyone in a moment of anticipation. In about three seconds, they will all explode with joy. I remember that I did. It is one of my great football memories. Seven years ago. Wishing everyone can find some joy today. Good luck to Swansea and their fans this weekend. COYRS!

When AHF met Eleanor R

Reading some old documents yesterday, I came across an exchange between my late father and his Aunt J (whence came my own J). They wrote mostly in German, 20 years after 11-year-old Albert had escaped from Germany. The following snippet was news to me:

"Nothing new here. Eleanor Roosevelt gave a speech here last night; and I had the honour of sitting next to her for half an hour and talking to her. As a 17-year-old student in Chicago, I had the same honour! Funny, isn't it? But the woman herself is really wonderful and fabulous. She gave a long speech about Israel, praised it very much, and urged the Jews of the city to buy Israel Bonds. The newspaper had a picture of the head table, with about 12 people (including me) and Mrs Roosevelt. I sent it to Mutti. I was only there to give the closing prayer after the meeting, but I took the opportunity to talk to Mrs Roosevelt."

According to the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader archive, Mrs Roosevelt was speaking at an Israel Bonds Chanukah dinner at the JCC (4th December 1958). I couldn't find the picture though. And according to her printed journal (the blog of her era), that visit was most memorable for the inconvenience of the weather:

I know she travelled extensively and met loads of people. I still think it's cool that one of them was my father.

World Bee Day!

I can't beelieve I missed World Bee Day. At least now I understand why there was a guy dressed as a bee yesterday on Antonella's cooking show on RAI1!

My apologies to the bee community, and here is one of the last bee pics I took in Finchley before leaving London. I was on my way to pick up some empty wine boxes (great for packing books) from Waitrose and spotted this chap on Ballards Lane.

Don't forget to put a little water on the windowsill for your local bees this summer. Some pebbles in a bowl (or marbles for a more colourful look) will give the bees a landing spot while they drink. Grazie!

 

Auguri (ppp)

9 years ago at 2 am during the WLS Tikkun Leyl Shavuot programme, I decided I needed a neck and shoulder rub to help me get through the night and down to Bournemouth the next morning to lead services there. I had always hated massages. But that night something called me.

Here we are today, blessed by having made a life together. We celebrate our journey, and wish peace and security to all.

My Name is Potato

I think I have found my song. And Rita Pavone is my new favourite singer. Had a tough 24 hours and was so glad for the arrival of Shabbat. After dinner, we turned on the TV and watched a quiz show where the contestants had to rank the top ten theme tunes of Italian children's tv shows of the 1970's. And they showed 5 seconds of this song:  My name is Potato. My beloved L agrees, it's totally me (except perhaps for the moment of dated cultural insensitivity of 1977). 

As my regular visitors may know, I have a great interest in potatoes. And now I have a song.  Shabbat shalom a tutti.

translation here.

Piglet Retrospective XIV

 Name that ceiling!

The news from the UK is that hugging some people sometimes will soon be permitted once more, and that indoor gatherings and eatings are also to return to social lives there. Where I live, we are a little less further along - and people are still falling prey to the virus - but L & I have both had our first in-person work meetings for over a year (masked, outdoors, but not through the internet).

We remain cautious and careful. Meanwhile, Piglet looks forward to celebrating with you all, as soon as it is safe and possible!

and Many Happy Returns of the Day to the Twins

94 years ago today my Uncle Charles & my father were born. It was a bit of a surprise to my grandparents, who had no idea that there were two babies on their way. Dearly loved, and greatly missed, I look today for happy memories of them, such as when Uncle Charles took us to the Astrodome to see a baseball game and we all shouted "Jose Cruuuuuuuuuuuz!" and, in the month when I celebrate 25 years since ordination, playing "Owl" together on the bima after my father's blessing:

It's Mother's Day Today

There are those who are mothers and those who have living mothers. I am neither. As regular readers will know, over the last decade+ our tradition was Chinese food together. Rather than post another photo from past meals in London, which today feels a bit morbid to me, here's a photo of me with an unusually delighted-looking mother. To those of us with difficult parental relationships, I hear ya. May we find the healing we need. To those with positive experiences, rejoice! 

NB I originally labelled this post for Mothering Sunday, and then my friend Ron taught me that the 4th Sunday in Lent is Mothering Sunday and that, of course, was a couple of months ago. He explained that this May day was the day that female domestic servants were given to visit their mothers, and it is also the day that people visit their "mother" church. Not to mention the US version, which was basically invented by Hallmark. Thank you, Ron!

Happy Birthday Golda!

 

Today is the 123rd anniversary of the birth of Golda Meir, described by Wikipedia as an "Israeli stateswoman, politician, teacher and kibbutznik who served as the fourth Prime Minister of Israel."

Meir was one of my sheroes growing up, and I was thrilled to walk past this lithograph in our flat every day. It was made by Marty Wiener, a friend of my parents. Like we used to do when we were little, he drew around the hands of his subjects. He then created a design around the drawings. Every now and then I liked to put my hands on the glass and measure them against Golda's. These days the picture hangs once again in my home. My hands still don't quite fit.