Mothering Sunday

 

Ok, so I do know that Mothering Sunday was originally the day when a religious Xian was supposed to go back to their "mother" church; and I read that an American started a memorial service for her mum in 1907, but that has no connection with the UK version. It probably developed from the old religious tradition, and as fewer people did the church thing, maybe it morphed into the celebration we have today.

Before my mother died, it would be a day when I treated her to the lunch of her choice (which varied between a local Chinese dive, Côte or the Wolseley). Now it is a day to think fondly about her (I'd eat Chinese in her honour, but haven't yet found a decent local place here).

These photos are of Evelyn doing something she loved to do. In them she is near Potsdam with her friend Eckerhard, z"l, visiting Eric Mendelsohn's Einstein Turm. Travel, architecture, a dear friend - a lovely day for her, and a lovely memory for me. 

Many Happy Returns of the Day Sir Vivian

Just wanted to wish a happy birthday to one of the greatest cricketers I have ever seen live, Sir Isaac Vivian Alexander Richards, who turned 70 yesterday. You may read about his life here.

England are currently being battered in the first Test at the Sir Vivian Richards Stadium in Antigua. Sadly, at 127 for 5 as I write, it's no surprise. To cheer myself up I will (once again!) add my favourite photo I got of the maestro, an incredibly rare moment in his career as he is clean bowled at Lords, by Derek Pringle I think.

A Prayer for the Ukraine and its People

 

PRAYER FOR UKRAINE

Eternal One, Rock of our Existence, the Source and Sustainer of Life, as President Putin wages war on Ukraine, and the forces of autocracy wreak havoc, and attempt to instil terror and fear in every heart, we call on You to give strength to the people of Ukraine. Help them to muster the courage and the fortitude to withstand the onslaught. Let them also be strengthened by the knowledge that democratic nations across the world stand in solidarity with them, and will do everything necessary to support their efforts to resist the imposition of tyranny.

Meanwhile, as we, like ordinary people everywhere, witness the horror, and feel helpless and hopeless in the face of overwhelming events beyond our control, may You enable us to understand that we are not powerless to help. Our deeds, however small, matter. And above all, knowing that despair is the dearest friend of tyrants, we have the obligation to hope,  and to demonstrate our constant fidelity to the enduring values of peace and freedom, equality and justice. May this be our will.

 

And let us say: Amen.

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

February 2022 / Adar I 5782

 

PREGHIERA PER L'UCRAINA

 

Eterno, Roccia della nostra Esistenza, Fonte e Sostenitore della Vita, mentre il Presidente Putin muove guerra all'Ucraina, e le forze dell'autocrazia scatenano il caos, e tentano di instillare il terrore e la paura in ogni cuore, Ti chiediamo di dare forza al popolo dell'Ucraina. Aiutalo a trovare il coraggio e la forza di resistere all'assalto. Fa' che siano anche rafforzati dalla consapevolezza che le nazioni democratiche di tutto il mondo sono solidali con loro e faranno tutto il necessario per sostenere i loro sforzi per resistere all'imposizione della tirannia.

 

Nel frattempo, mentre noi, come la gente comune ovunque, siamo testimoni dell'orrore e ci sentiamo impotenti e senza speranza di fronte a eventi schiaccianti che sfuggono al nostro controllo, possa Tu permetterci di capire che non siamo impotenti ad aiutare. Le nostre azioni, per quanto piccole, contano. E soprattutto, sapendo che la disperazione è la più cara amica dei tiranni, abbiamo l'obbligo di sperare, e di dimostrare la nostra costante fedeltà ai valori duraturi di pace e libertà, uguaglianza e giustizia.

 

Che questa sia la nostra volontà. 

E diciamo: Amen.

 

Rabbi Elli Tikvah Sarah

Rabbina Emerita, Brighton & Hove Progressive Synagogue 

February 2022 / Adar I 5782

I Will Really Miss Jan Pienkowski (RIP)

How much do I love the work of Jan Pienkowski? Let us just say that when the sad news of his death reached me, and I decided to write something, I didn't have to look up how to spell his name.

One of the boons of having a sibling one decade younger was getting to read another generation of books for younger readers. And when my sibling received a copy of Haunted House by Jan Pienkowski, they loved it so much they wouldn't let anyone else play with the pop-up parts. So I had to get my own copy.

Pienkowski changed what was possible with paper engineering (& I particularly appreciated that the backs of the moving parts were painted rather than only the clearly visible parts as in most pop-up books I'd experienced previously). Haunted House is one of my favourite books, and I still enjoy moving the parts, and noting the UFO coming closer and closer until the alien bursts into the book at the end!

And let's not forget Meg & Mog (not to be confused with Judith Kerr's Mog, another great literary cat). I love the drawings. And when the sibling was about 5, we took them to the Unicorn Theatre to see the stage version with Maureen Lipman as Meg. Although, I remember that the adults seemed to be much more involved than the children they were treating - we were all shouting, panto style, "behind you!", whilst the kids were rooting around in the bottom of their popcorn buckets.

So glad to have still these beautiful books to enjoy. Sad that the genius that created them has left us. As the obits say, he found a way to take the terrible monsters from his childhood and turn them into harmless toys. My condolences to his partner, his family and friends, and all who will miss him.

the Times obit

The world of Jan Pienkowski in pictures from the Guardian

the Guardian obit

 

What Rabbis Used to Do

In this screenshot from an online version of a video of a copy of an old TV recording of a football match played in 1986 on a dark damp night in West London, goalkeeper Eddie Niedzwiecki holds onto a shot from QPR's Robbie James.

Behind the goal, between 1986 and the G of the ad hoarding, there is a frizzy-haired photographer who, if you watch the moving version of this video, is applauding (rather than photographing). I added an arrow in case my description isn't clear enough.

Sorry this isn't the moment of either of the winning goals being scored but by extra-time it was so damp and dark that I could no longer take a decent photo and so I decamped to the shelter of the tunnel by the dugout. What a night, though! #RTID

We Love Lily!

Amici, one of my colleagues just shared with us a quote by Lily Montagu regarding the wearing of a kippah/yarmulke that I just had to pass on to you all:

"The custom of wearing a hat or not wearing a hat must be left to the choice of the individual. He must be impressed with the belief that the thoughts which prevail under the hat can lead him to God, not the hat itself."

[p 47, In Memory of Lily Montagu by E Conrad, Amsterdam 1967]

San Valentino Whatever

Note to self:  when leaving sweet chocolatey treats for one's beloved to find first thing in the morning, perhaps it's not so smart to hang them on the stove near the hob upon which said beloved will be brewing a morning cup of coffee.

Meanwhile, in this morning's English language class we learned that Saint Valentine, who may or may not have existed, apart from being the patron saint of lovers, is also the mentor of people with epilepsy and beekeepers.

Earthquake Virgin No More

 

A couple of hours ago something a bit weird happened - I felt as if someone had pushed me in the back like they were trying to get past my chair. The cat ran away, but L noted that our lights that hang down from the roof were utterly still. Thus I was left to consider whether or not ghosts might actually be real, and annoyed at me for some reason.

An hour later, whilst L was out at a meeting, and I was blithely watching some Big Bang Theory, the sofa the cushions the lamp the floor the cat everything moved sideways for a few seconds; and then the messages started arriving. It was an earthquake. As was the first.

According to Corriere della Sera, "a series of earthquakes has been striking Emilia Romagna since Wednesday evening, with the epicentre between the provinces of Reggio and Modena. There has been a lot of fright and people have taken to the streets, but for the moment the Civil Protection has not reported any damage. According to the Ingv data, the first tremor was of magnitude 4.0, at a depth of 7 km, and was recorded a few minutes before 8 pm. A second tremor was felt an hour later. The INGV estimates the magnitude of the latter event at 4.3, which is more violent than the previous one."

Unlike my sisters, I have never lived in California (though I was visiting Los Angeles in 1994 but left on maybe the last plane out, utterly unaware of what would happen a couple of hours later). So this was a little scary. I have plenty of memories of feeling the Piccadilly Line thundering beneath Kent House, and the trembling of the living-room floor. But this was my first 'quake in person, and whatever I may have imagined, I was incorrect. Although our ancient palazzo has clearly gone through this for several hundred years (pu pu pu), I have not, and am still shaking a bit. The important things are: L is fine, I am fine, Sara the Cat is shaken and won't come out from under the bed for more than a few seconds but she is fine. And as far as we know so are all our friends here and hopefully everyone else. 

Bees in Conversation

Found this old bee pic and wondered what they might be saying to each other. This was my thought - but maybe you think otherwise ...?

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!)?

Greetings to You for 2022!

I've never really got the whole calendar-change celebration. We grew up with Rosh Hashana as our new year, with the other thing being a chance to stay up late to hear Big Ben bong and maybe get a sip of champagne. On the other hand, my father always said that one should take up any opportunity to make a fresh start. So here's to 2022! May we all be healthy and happy.

Drawing Together Ends 2021 Brightly

The Graphic Medicine's monthly Drawing Together group met again today. After losing the plot a couple of meetings ago, when I got stuck once again on my lack of technical drawing skills (and yet I still don't try hard enough to improve them!), I was encouraged to return by the artist leading this month's session.

The Zoom invitation included a few words from Judith:

"Learning to draw, or more accurately, realising how to look at things, for me marked the beginning of being an artist.

For this Drawing Together session, I have prepared a sequence of prompts with which you will explore when you learned how to draw and how you formed a unique sense of yourself as an artist.

As the New Year begins and the days grow longer, let's draw closer to the light, together."

Asked to recall our first memory of ourselves, what came to mind was sitting on the floor in our flat on W 116th Street, watching Bugs Bunny on TV whilst eating a piece of cheese. We had just under 2 minutes to draw this one.

The second prompt (4 mins) was a bit more difficult at first - I had absolutely no memory of the first time I knew that I liked to draw. I started to get anxious again but, thank goodness, other options were then offered, including "whatever it is that makes you you". And I looked back and saw my first camera, a Kodak Instamatic, and remembered how much from as far back as I go that I love taking pictures.

[the earliest QPR pic of mine I've found was taken with an Instamatic!

]

Judith concluded with a story about a woman she'd visited in a nursing home who had told her a story. The story made the woman very happy. She told it again. And again. In the end, it was the only story she told, but it always made her happy. Judith spoke about keeping ourselves in the light, and asked us to draw a favourite memory, perhaps the one story that we would tell when we were in the home.

Dithering about which memory would steal drawing time, and we only had 10 minutes, so I took the first that came to mind.

It was the day a congregant invited my dad to view the local derby with neighbours QPR in an executive hospitality box at Stamford Bridge. I happened to be a QPR photographer on the pitch that afternoon. In those days there were few, if any, women shooting football matches, so I usually got a lot of abuse from the crowd. However, the R's fans began to recognise me after a while. At half-time I walked towards the away end, and some fans began chanting my name. My father was so proud and excited - his favourite team, his first-born on the pitch, her name being sung by several hundred fellow fans. I sometimes wonder if this was just a bit better than the day he blessed me in front of the ark when I was ordained. So, this is the drawing. And even though it probably wasn't on that day, I drew the floodlight, shining down on the away end.

In between each prompt we got the chance to look at each other's drawings, and hear the stories behind them. I love this group - people are kind and supportive and encouraging. I hope it continues in 2022!

PS Sorry about the faintness of the pencil. You might see the drawings better if you click on them. They get bigger too!