How Would You Deal This?

Last evening, I had an uncomfortable encounter with a man I had just met. 

We had been invited to an intimate Chanukah celebration at the home of a dear friend. My parents were also invited, but other than them, we were unaware of the guest list. I suspected my friend's cousins would also be there, and I was excited to see them again. It had been far too long between visits. So, we packed my folks into the car and off we went.  

When we arrived, I was thrilled to see my old friends. The hostess had also included her business partner, who kept my overly gregarious father busy with her tales of woe, and her 99-year-old uncle, whom I hadn't seen since we shared a Pesach seder over thirty years ago. The man is still as sharp as a tack and twice as witty. Rounding out the attendees were two couples from my friend's building that she is close with; one originally from New York and transplanted to South Florida, and the other snowbirds from Toronto. We shook hands, made our acquaintance, and dispensed with the superficial social conventions. 

I am often shy and quiet in new social situations. I initially listen to conversations around me and get a feel for the people I have just met. Some people mistake this for rudeness. I promise I'm not rude, but rather unsure of my surroundings. Introverted people lay back. We don't jump into new conversations with both feet. More often than not, we take stock and then engage. I absolutely avoid discussions about politics or religion until I can get a handle on how people react. I needn't have worried. Between my dad, who is never at a loss for words, and the other guy from Toronto, there wasn't a moment to participate in the conversations. Have you ever been confronted with a situation whereby you know immediately and instinctively that somebody rubs you the wrong way? That was me with this gent from my hometown. He walked into the house like he owned the place, was loud and obnoxious in his demeanour, and had an opinion about everything, from the Chanukiyot on the table to the choice of which Chanukah songs we would sing. He overshadowed his lovely wife in every way imaginable, including correcting her multiple times during her stories. He was boorish, pompous, and pontificating. I stayed quiet. All Jews are talking about Israel these days, but I was silent. All Jews are discussing the rise of antisemitism, but again I simply listened. I wasn't shocked to hear Mr. Boor and his wife spout long-disputed conspiracy theories about Mr. Trudeau or the CBC, but again I remained mum. 

 The Husband and I did that marital glance we do when we want to roll our eyes but refrain from doing so for fear that someone might see us. We were definitely on the same page about this dude.

Mr. Boor settled in comfortably for the evening. People like him always do. They take command and control of the setting and the people and then proceed to dominate every conversation. Our hostess was gracious and charming. She invited The Husband and me into the kitchen to point out the vegetarian options she had prepared especially for us. She went out of her way for her aged uncle and was attentive to her guests. She even made sure that all of the food was strictly kosher because Mr. Boor and his wife are practitioners. The conversation at dinner was lively and engaging. I offered an opinion on something I thought was benign, but it turns out nothing is benign these days. I decided to shut up for the rest of the evening.

And then, it happened. I was asked by another of the guests what I did for a living. I told her I was a retired cantorial soloist. For some reason, Jews always find this fascinating. We talked a bit about my career and what it was like for a woman to be a clergyperson. Well, Mr. Boor went off on me like I had two heads. He'd never heard of a woman officiating at a funeral. He told me that Reform Judaism has a different Halacha than his brand. He was condescending and contemptuous. I was firm but polite. There was no way that I was going to disrespect my host by losing my temper, but this fuckwad had grated on my last nerve. I told him that perhaps he hadn't seen a woman officiate at a Jewish funeral in his circles, and I proceeded to tell him that there are many women clergy in Toronto. I had personally officiated at dozens of funerals. I even was so bold as to remind him that the senior rabbi of Holy Blossom is a woman. I suggested that maybe he should expand his Jewish circle and broaden his knowledge. He started to come back at me when I told him that it was perfectly okay with me for him to observe Judaism in any manner that he wished, so long as he afforded me the same courtesy. I wasn't rude and I never told him he was wrong, even though I desperately wanted to.

I am certain that he went home and complained about me to his wife. I'm sure that he thinks that I am a first-class bitch. It wouldn't be the first time that some arrogant prick thought I was too mouthy, but I am so over caring what other people think about me. As we got into the car to drive home, The Husband and I said in almost perfect unison, "What an asshole." My parents, who were having a perfectly lovely evening at the other end of the table, had no idea what had occurred. I had to recount the entire evening for them. They were stunned and a bit mortified.

I will never understand what drives a person to be so rude to someone they have just met. We should have been talking about the Leafs or the Jays. Instead, this guy decided to make me a target and I refused to allow it. I am proud of how I handled him, but I never want to be in his company again.

There is a freedom that comes with aging. I refuse to take shit from anyone. I've spent far too many years swallowing my opinions and my thoughts. This guy had it coming. I hope he remembers me as the bitch who came to Chanukah.

I Stand With Women of the Wall!

I have told this story before, so forgive me if it is known to you. I promise that I have a point in retelling it.

Years ago when I was interviewing and auditioning for my current position as Cantorial Soloist at Temple Sings all the Time and Won't Shut Up, the rabbi at the time asked me what my feelings were about wearing a kippah and tallit. She (yes, she!) knew that I came from a Classical Reform Jewish upbringing where back in the day, outward religious prayer symbols like the kippah and tallit were frowned upon garb even amongst the men of the congregation. Neither my father nor my brother ever wore either, not even at my brother's Bar Mitzvah. I had never given much thought to the question until this particular rabbi asked it of me, even though it was once again becoming accepted practice within the Reform Movement for both men and women to don these ritual objects. She told me at the time that while she understood my discomfort with appropriating both as part of my own davening, she felt it extraordinarily important that I be seen on the bimah wearing them. She wanted the girls in our community to know and understand that they were equal partners in matters of prayer and ritual and what better way to role model that than by showing the two female religious leaders of the congregation appropriately attired for t'fillah. She was so concerned that I might balk at the request that she had it written into my first contract. That first High Holidays, as I set about putting on The Husband's Bar Mitzvah tallit which I had borrowed for the occasion, Younger Son, all of four years old at the time, said with pure innocence, "Look! Mommy is putting on her Cantor's costume!"

In truth, it did feel like a costume. It felt uncomfortable and disingenuous. After the Holy Days, the rabbi sat down with me and once again asked about my feelings on the subject. I told her of my concerns and she in turn made me a promise. She asked me to wear the tallit for a period of time, perhaps six months. If I still felt nothing we would talk again, but she was willing to bet that something will have changed. She spoke of the increased intimacy and enveloping warmth that I would feel wearing the tallit and kippah. She spoke of a more personal connection to prayer and a deeper and more spiritual involvement. And while my skepticism was acute, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. The following year my parents bought me my first tallit to call my own. I now own a half a dozen  and I cannot imagine not wearing one.

Last evening, our latest crop of B'nai Mitzvah students (our seventh grade class) began their annual Tallit workshop. Over the course of the next few weeks, these young people will learn of the significance of the tallit, understand the importance of the tzitzit (fringes) and knots, and create their very own special and extremely personally designed prayer shawl. Boys and girls. Many of these kids will wear these very creations at their upcoming Bar/Bat Mitzvah. The girls never even think twice that they shouldn't be included in the ritual. The egalitarian nature of the practice is just understood amongst all.

So, it is with this history in mind that I feel great sadness when I read of the continual monthly struggles of Women of the Wall in Israel. For the past twenty-four years, these brave women (and many men who support them), have been gathering at the Kotel (The Western Wall) on Rosh Chodesh (The new month) for a service of prayer. They have been constantly harassed by ultra-orthodox men and women. They have been spit upon, insulted, projectiles thrown their way, tear-gassed, and detained and arrested by Israeli police all because they have had the gall to pray publicly as women, while also donning the tallit. It seems unbelievable in a country that prides itself on egalitarian practice and equality of the sexes, but control of the Wall falls under the auspices of the orthodox minority and they have invoked a much more fundamentalist observance over the years including; the erection of a mechitzah (partition between men and women), the ceaseless shrinking of the women's section, the enforcement of more modest dress for girls and women at the site (men show up at the Wall in shorts and tank tops, but that doesn't raise ire!), the compelling and enforcement of Kol Isha (the prohibition of men hearing women's voices), a ban on women reading from a Torah, and of course the ban on women wearing tallit. And even though the Wall IS NOT an orthodox synagogue, but rather a heritage and religious location significant to all Jews no matter their denominational practice, the Israeli Supreme Court has sided with the administrators of the site in this battle. So the Women of the Wall turn their tallitot into scarves slung across their throats, and they content themselves with a short monthly service at the Wall before moving away to Robinson's Arch to read Torah and pray as they deem fit, away from those who might take offence. But, still it isn't enough. Over the past few months the police involvement and harassment has been stepped up and these brave women have found themselves targeted. Last month on October 16, 2012, Anat Hoffman, director of the group, was arrested, strip searched, cuffed, shackled, and forced to lay on a bare jail cell floor. Her crime? She recited the Shema, the watchword of our faith, out loud at the Wall. She was interrogated and held without legal counsel, but never charged. In her own words....

What is the purpose of arresting a woman, interrogating her, collecting video footage of her every move, questioning witnesses and spending hours writing reports, if at the end charges are never made? I believe the purpose of this harassment and treatment is to wear down the leaders of our women's prayer group, to exhaust us into giving up our struggle for this rights.
If Women of the Wall are truly in breach of the law -- charge them. If they are not, stop arresting them, with release pending a 30- or 60-day ban on visiting the wall area or 5,000 NIS bail.

She continues....

It is time to demand that the state of Israel act like a Jewish and democratic state. Ultra-Orthodox rabbis may be offended by the Women of the Wall practices. That is their legitimate right but it becomes dangerous and frightening when the secular Knesset, the secular courts and the secular police bow down to the ultra-Orthodox fears and demands, while imposing them in the public sphere.

Today five more women were detained at the Rosh Chodesh service and one other arrested. And so it continues. You'd think that with the escalation of hostilities this week, this nonsense would take a backseat. Sadly, no.

I took on the mitzvah of wearing a tallit with great thought, study, and care. Over these past nineteen years I have stood proudly on the bimah and witnessed countless young women follow my lead. My rabbi was right all those years ago. She told me that I would personalize it; find a comfort in it that would lead me towards a more intimate model of prayer. I cannot and will not allow anybody to take from me that which I have fought so hard to embrace. That is why I stand with the Women of the Wall in their struggle for religious freedom and independence.

A prayer for Women of the Wall composed by Rahel Sharon Jaskow....


"May it be Your will, our God and God of our mothers and fathers, to bless this prayer group and all who pray within it: them, their families and all that is theirs, together with all the women and girls of your people Israel. Strengthen us and direct our hearts to serve You in truth, reverence and love. May our prayer be desirable and acceptable to You like the prayers of our holy mothers, Sarah, Rivka, Rahel and Leah. May our song ascend to Your Glorious Throne in holiness and purity, like the songs of Miriam the Prophet, Devorah the Judge, and Hannah in Shilo, and may it be pleasing to you as a sweet savor and fine incense.

And for our sisters, all the women and girls of your people Israel: let us merit to see their joy and hear their voices raised before You in song and praise. May no woman or girl be silenced ever again among Your people Israel or in all the world. God of justice, let us merit to see justice and salvation soon, for the sanctification of Your name and the repair of Your world, as it is written: Zion will hear and be glad, and the daughters of Judah rejoice, over Your judgments, O God. And it is written: For Zion’s sake I will not be still and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not be silent, until her righteousness shines forth like a great light and her salvation like a flaming torch.

For Torah shall go forth from Zion and the word of God from Jerusalem. Amen, selah"

Pessimistically Optimistic

"Whether you are a glass half-empty person or a glass half-full person really depends on whether you are doing the pouring or the drinking."

I think that I read that on the back of a bathroom stall door....or somebody's Facebook wall...sometimes it's hard to tell the difference. But, the point is that it resonated.

Last week at a community event, a friend lost her leather coat. She had placed it over the back of a chair and when she went to retrieve it, somebody had walked off with it. Given that it was a startlingly cold night, and we were in a room filled with upscale Jewish Canadians in November, half the people in attendance, both men and women, were wearing black leather jackets or car coats. As she worked the room stealthily trying to link the offending party with her now missing jacket, her husband was raging. "How could anybody be so careless?" "Don't people pay attention?" My friend preferred to view it as the unfortunate accident that it most probably was, and was certain that the transgressor would realize the error and return it in kind. My friend and her husband saw the same event through very different lenses. I am loathe to label one as optimistic or the other as pessimistic, but rather they were two sides of the very same coin that both had equal validity. But, does every action or thought have an equality? Aren't there just some things that are patently wrong? Why must we give equal time to bullshit?

It is no secret that I am thrilled with the outcome of last evening's election. I am a fan from afar of the president, but I am also very aware of his failings. He has work to do in convincing a good many unimpressed Americans that his ways and ideas are best for the country, but I feel that he has the intellectual heft and abilities to do just that. My issues with this campaign weren't as much about my disdain for Governor Romney, but rather with the bat-shit crazy elements of his party to which he openly pandered. I can have an intellectual discussion as to whether or not their economic policies are correct. (I happen to disagree with most of them, but I can see the other side.) But, I cannot and will not ever find value in any person's platform that uses women's reproductive rights as a political tool. I cannot and will not ever find value in the candidate that thinks rape is just another method of procreation that could lead to an unexpected pregnancy. I cannot and will not dismiss science, math, intellectual curiousity, or climate change as elitist and anti-God. I will never see the equality in any policy that segregates and demonizes my gay and lesbian friends and family. I will never understand nor will I support the supposed societal ethics or laws that say it is ok to stop somebody on the street simply because the colour of their skin makes them suspicious. In my mind, there is no equivalency on these settled issues; no other side that I could ever find palatable.

Last night President Obama was doing the pouring and a majority of Americans were drinking. Today I  join them as a newly minted optimist.

(By the way-my friend found her coat!)

My body is Healthy if not Perfect!

It has been too long since I have taken to the keyboard to write in this space. Chalk it up to writer's block with a hint of daily busyness. In any case something tweaked my sense of justice today that I felt was just screaming for a response. And you know me, I am never shy with my responses.

Last week actress Ashley Judd published an essay in The Daily Beast that was mostly a response to some fairly ugly media coverage about her appearance. While I agreed with most of what she said about the greater conversation that is constantly being had concerning women's bodies and the impossible and ridiculous images that we women are often forced to live up to, it struck me as just a wee bit disingenuous that a celebrity who has traded on her appearance for most of her career in order to further that career was pushing this important and necessary agenda forward. That said, I do think that most of what Ms. Judd railed against in her essay is just and valid. We women are held to unwieldy and impossible standards when it comes to our appearance, and the fashion industry, media outlets, advertising agencies, and others are complicit in this nightmare.

We fast forward to yesterday, where here in Toronto the mayor was conducting his weekly weigh-in. This mayor has struggled mightily with his poundage and while I disagree with the man on just about every policy issue he has, I can readily identify with his battle against the bulge. I commend the man for attempting to get healthy and, speaking as one who has spent a lifetime dealing with weight issues, I share his pain every single week when he publicly gets on that scale and stalls or gains a pound. Yesterday in the heat of the weigh-in two protestors from PETA crashed the party in an attempt to convert "hizzoner"to a vegan lifestyle.

Now I need to make it perfectly clear that I hold absolutely no love for PETA. As a vegetarian, I cringe every single time these crazy people try and speak for me and mine. In my opinion, this is an organization that seems to trip over its own tongue whenever it attempts to advance its single issue agenda. This publicity stunt was not well received by the mayor, the press, or much of the citizenry of Toronto. If we want to have a debate about PETA and their mission and the flawed messages that they attempt to impart, I am willing to have that discussion. What I am not willing to engage in is image bashing like that of one of my Facebook friends this morning that basically trashed the two young women's appearance and body types as evidence that their vegan lifestyle is a hoax. This type of crude attempt at humour is exactly of the kind that Ms. Judd was exploring in her article. When does it become okay to call out these crude responses for that which they are-neanderthal and misogynistic attempts at humour that disparage women.

What if I had used disparaging language to describe the mayor's body type in speaking about my opposition to his flawed policies? Isn't that just as disgraceful as my Facebook friend's comments about these women and the organization they represent? Until we can engage in civil debate about our differences without bringing body and appearance  into the fray, we will never be able to move the dialogue forward and have a healthy debate about the issues which Ms. Judd advocated.

On This International Women's Day

Here are just a few things that I choose to commemorate on this the 101st International Women's Day.

• On this International Women's Day I celebrate the fact that my Judaism is inclusive of all voices male and female, together in study, song, and prayer. My Judaism doesn't believe that women should be relegated to the back of the bus. It believes that women and girls should be able to safely walk to school and work without being accosted by vile slurs or stones thrown in their direction. My Judaism believes that women belong in the public square, the military, in advertisements, and celebrating their heritage at the Western Wall. On this International Women's Day I stand with IRAC and The Women of the Wall.
• On this International Women's Day I choose to celebrate the work and accomplishments of Margaret Sanger, Dr.Henry Morgentaler, Jane Roe, Dr. George Tiller, and all of those faceless and nameless who have struggled in the name of women's reproductive freedoms.
• On this International Women's Day I decry all those who scream "slut" and "prostitute" whenever a woman is deemed too sexual or for wanting to control her own sexuality. I shudder at the double standard that allows a man to be a "player" but a labels a woman a "whore".
• On this International Women's Day I stand with the women of Afghanistan. From the Wall Street Journal. "A government-appointed council of 150 leading Muslim clerics last week urged the strict application of a conservative and literalist interpretation of Islamic law regarding women. The council said Afghan law should require women to wear the veil and forbid them from mixing with men in the work place or traveling without a male chaperone. "Men are fundamental and women are secondary," the Ulama Council said in a statement on Friday, according to a translation by the Afghanistan Analysts Network. President Hamid Karzai published the statement on his web site, fueling speculation that he backed the conservative clerics' position." On this International Women's Day I stand in support of ten years of women's rights and freedoms and oppose any aid that would shove them back into the closet.
• On this International Women's Day I celebrate that women come in all colours, all shapes, all sizes, and all are beautiful. 
• On this International Women's Day I remember those who died simply because they were women.
• On this International Women's Day I celebrate those women who are scholars and teachers, entrepreneurs and engineers, singers, poets, politicians, or public speaker. I am in awe of the doctors, scientists, lawyers, and entertainers. I honour the stay at home moms and those mothers that work outside of the home alike. On this International Women's Day I pay tribute to us all.
• On this International Women's Day I think of my role models-the women in my life-who have encouraged me either by word or by deed, to be the free-thinking, opinionated woman I am today.
• On this International Women's Day that coincides with the festival of Purim, I am Vashti. 

I urge you to add your own. 

Where are the Women??

This past summer The Husband and I made our first pilgrimage to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. I will admit that we had ulterior motives in making the five hour drive around the lake that didn't involve visiting the shrine, but while we were there we knew that we needed to finally see the place. It was a fantastic experience and one that I would gladly repeat again and again. A music lover's paradise. One of my greatest thrills during our trip to the Rock Hall was viewing the remarkable exhibit set up to honour Women Who Rock. It was like Cleveland knew I was coming and designed a special showcase just for me. We spent hours perusing and listening to all of the greats. It was pure joy.

We finally made our way into the screening room to view the film that honours all of the hall's inductees. I enjoyed it thoroughly, but was tremendously dismayed at the dearth of women who have actually been inducted into the hall. Did you know that while the Rock Hall has been open since 1983, it took until 1987 for them to induct their first woman, Aretha Franklin? There have been 619 total people inducted and only a handful of them women, some of whom were members of bands that were ushered in collectively like The Mamas and the Papas or Fleetwood Mac.

So I need to ask the question, "Where are the Women"? Where are the likes of Heart, Pat Benatar, Linda Ronstadt, Carole King (as a performer), Cyndy Lauper, Donna Summer, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, The GoGos, Janet Jackson, or The Carpenters? And this is just a list of the obviously missing. How does a group like the Red Hot Chili Peppers make it this year and not the Wilson sisters who paved the way for them? One might start to wonder if a gender bias exists in Cleveland?

Look it is obvious that rock and roll has traditionally been a guy's game, but women have forced their way into the picture and can no longer and should no longer be ignored. These omissions are neon-lighted slights that need to be corrected. Will they also ignore Melissa Etheridge when she becomes eligible next year? Travesties!

While we wait and hope for these errors to be corrected, we can and should acknowledge the great Laura Nyro who made the cut this year as the ONLY woman inductee. In the meantime, if you have a chance to get to the Rock Hall to see the Women in Rock exhibit I highly recommend it. It is on display until February 2012.

She Changed The Way We Pray

I am a songleader. I have been been labeled a cantorial soloist, a teacher of music, a singer of Jewish liturgy-but ultimately I am songleader. I stand in front of my congregation, my community--guitar strapped onto my shoulder, and I facilitate prayer and spiritual awakening through music. I have always wanted to be a songleader ever since I heard my first Debbie Friedman song.

I was a young girl sitting in a religious school class in the early '70s when our music teacher taught us Debbie's Im Tirtzu as a way to facilitate some lesson about the birth of the state of Israel. I was hooked. Finally, here was music to which I could relate. Here was music that spoke to my generation and allowed us to find meaning in prayer. I wanted more.

I purchased vinyl of all of Debbie's early recordings. I found meaning and spiritual awakening in her liturgical settings. I couldn't wait to share a new melody with everybody around me. I knew that in order to properly sing these songs I would need to learn to play guitar, and so I sat for hours trying to get the exact strum patterns and odd chord changes for Sing Unto God. Debbie Friedman's music was reaching out to me and my thirst for a connection to Judaism.

Every summer I would return from Goldman Union Camp, armed with my songbook and pages of chord charts for a whole slew of new Debbie Friedman songs, hoping against hope that I might introduce them into the mainstream services of my congregation. My songleading friends and I would sit for hours trying to re-create the sheer revelry of her Dodi Li or the magical beauty of her Mi Sheberach. It took a lot longer than I would have liked for Debbie's music to find its way out of the camps and into the synagogue, but I knew then as I do now, that we in the movement were witnessing a true renaissance of Jewish music. Debbie Friedman had helped to create and define a new North American nusach, and we knew it was just the beginning.

It is impossible to overstate Debbie's importance to our prayer, to our sense of spirituality, to our music, and to our Jewish lives. She was the first to overlay English meaning with Hebrew liturgy. When she sang "L'chi Lach", she gave you a true sense of its meaning.."to a land that I will show you." She reintroduced healing prayers and songs back into our liturgy. She changed the way that congregations sing. She invited all to participate and understood that there was meaning in the silences as well as the noisy ruach. She sang for adults, for children, with choirs and solo. Music was the way in which she communicated her Judaism to us, and I for one was her willing student. She was truly on the cutting edge, a true visionary.

I am a songleader in great part because of Debbie Friedman. I was drawn to her music, her energy and her voice like no other in my profession. I will miss her creativity, her spirituality, and her teachings. Her music will inspire many for generations to come.

Zichrona Livracha-May her memory always be a blessing.

Debbie Friedman performs Mourning Into Dancing

A visionary artist who has transformed the way we Jews pray and sing.

Women of the World-Just Sing

If you are of the double-X persuasion, I know that you have received "those" emails. You know the ones of which I speak. The sappy shit that looks like it plunged straight off of a Hallmark card and into your inbox. They pontificate about sisterhood and stressless friendships, and couch the whole message in a backdrop of hearts, flowers and purple squiggles. They implore you to immediately hit the FORWARD key so that every other female in your address book can also experience the nauseous wave of sugary platitudes. Sorry folks. It just isn't that easy. Friendships and real relationships take time, stress, sweat, pain, and copious amounts of work. Sometimes they can be taxing, but just as often they can be wondrous.

I am at my core a basically shy and reserved person. I know that sounds somewhat paradoxical for those who see me on a bimah or in front of an audience, but it is true. I find I tend to retreat into that which I know is safe and comfortable, and I often balk at the new, unknown and potentially frightening. It is the same with new relationships. I have been fortunate that my friendships have been enduring and have strengthened over many years. Newness and new people make me markedly uncomfortable, so it was with great trepidation that I agreed to perform several years ago with a group of colleagues at the Kol Isha concert. My impressions of that experience have been well documented. It was one of those unique times in life when one actually makes it to the top of the mountain and lives to tell the tale. We were a tight, cohesive group of diverse women who loved, laughed and made beautiful music together, but when it was over we all returned to our lives and careers, with occasional stopovers to inquire as to each other's well-being. It was a remarkable adventure that I believed could not be duplicated. So, it was with my default trepidation firmly intact that I headed back into rehearsals with my singing sisters last month for another stab at Everest. We were warmly invited to perform our concert in another community and we knew that we just couldn't decline.

As we gathered last month to renew our relationships and to engage in our musical diversities, something interesting began to take shape for me. The music was there, rusty and in desperate need of rehearsal for certain, but I noticed that we had become more involved with each other as people. We revelled in each other's professional milestones and accomplishments. We glowed with pride at the families that were celebrating lifecycle events, and we came together as a tightly knit group to deal with adversity. We bonded over dietary restrictions, banana bread and chocolate. We laughed at each other's insecurities and we supported each other with less formality and much more gentle teasing. In short, we worked together not merely as colleagues. We had become friends.

It occurs to me that children make friends very easily. Anybody who has ever dropped their youngster off for the first day of kindergarten is truly amazed at how quickly ties and bonds are formed. Adults? Not so much. As we age, we tend to put up artificial barriers that inhibit the formation of new friendships. We tend look for reasons to "opt out". I am truly in awe of those who make friends easily. I wish that I had the grace and ease of conversation that facilitates new relationships. I wish that I didn't come off as aloof or insular; both of which are defence mechanisms installed to keep me safe. Instead, I will content myself with the karmic nature of the universe that brought these remarkable women into my life and I can only hope that they feel an iota towards me as I do towards them.

Women need other women in their lives. We need to feed off of the strength and uniqueness of experience that only we can provide. No offence, guys. There are just some things that are truly female. Greeting card platitudes cannot define us or our relationships. Only we can do that. I would like to offer up one of my own. Simply stated-Get down and sing! It is truly bridge building!

O Canada!

O Canada!

For a fortnight and a bit (give or take a couple of days) we have watched our national pride and identity grow exponentially with each Olympic day. It has little to do with medals and it has little to do with record finishes. We have basked in the glow of the world's collective lens trained relentlessly on every aspect of our country, and frankly we have survived the intense scrutiny with aplomb. But let us now turn our vision inward onto ourselves and attempt to remember the vivid lessons that these Games have taught us.

O Canada!

We spent over 6 billion dollars on these Games. We can argue passionately as to whether or not it was money well spent, but the debate is fruitless and passe. Instead, let us accept what has been wonderful, but to also remember that sporting events should not be the only impetus to increased political spending on social programs and infrastructure. The next time we quibble on monies for poverty programs, women's assistance programs, water main repairs or transportation increases, let us remember that, like these Games, we are all in it together and we need the political will to spend to aid our own.

O Canada!

Let us remember that over 75% of the Canadian medals at these Olympic were won by our women. Let's elucidate that point when we debate equal access to ice time for our girls, and let us remember how important organized sports are to those girls who need to escape difficult home situations. Women are carrying the load for the country this year. Let's not dismiss them when they come calling for daycare, health care, equal pay for equal work, programs for women in crisis and educational opportunities.

O Canada!

We have proven to ourselves that our national inferiority complex should be banished to the dustbin of history. Enough already with the constant apologies. The world looks to us for leadership and we provided it during these Games. Let us remember that at the next world environmental summit or at the next G20. It is time for us to step forward front and centre on the world stage and start leading with the values that make us the envy of all.

O Canada!

The best of who we are wasn't demonstrated by our hockey teams or our curling teams. It was on display in the form of a slight figure skater from small-town Quebec. Her strength and courage showed the world Canadian fortitude. Let us remember that resilience the next time some pundit from another nation questions our loyalty, our commitment, or our values.

O Canada!

We have done ourselves proud. Let the national hangover commence.

Zeitgeist, Balloon Obsessions, Rush Limbaugh and Other Forms of Hot Air!

It has been a while since I have posted. Mostly there has been very little to discuss or share, but this week provided all manner of ridiculousness, both from the newsmakers and the imbeciles that bring us the news. It was impossible to separate the gasbags from the windbags so I decided to roll it all together into one hell-inducing fart on the world.

The week began with that purveyor of women's fashion Ralph Lauren. Poor Ralph got himself and his company caught up in a major fail episode. It seems that Polo Boy got his mallet in a knot over some criticism leveled at his marketing campaign by BoingBoing. Ralph and company apparently digitally enhanced model Filippa Hamilton almost out of existence. The poor woman resembles a broomstick with a head! To add insult to injury, after the exposure of their experiment in emaciation and a half-assed apology, Lauren seems to have quietly parted ways with their signature beauty because she was thought to be too heavy. Lauren and company contend that it was the result of a contract dispute and had nothing whatsoever to do with her size four figure. It might be easier to take Ralph at his word if this photo hadn't cropped up a few days later from an Australian Lauren campaign. Honestly, Ralph! Who do you think you're kidding and who do you think might take the greatest offense to these horrific pictures? How about the very customers that you depend on for your livelihood-WOMEN! Maybe if you stopped trying to make us all into some perverse ideal of what your warped mind believes a woman should look like, we might be more willing to drop a few bucks on your over-priced and over-valued image of the country club.

In keeping with the "women aren't really beautiful unless they look like an eating disorder poster" theme, comes this little gem from Karl Lagerfeld at the House of Chanel. Reacting to the news of German fashion magazine Brigitte's decision to forgo runway models in their publication and instead focus on "ordinary and realistic women" in their photo shoots, the openly gay, 71 year old Lagerfeld spewed the following invective.

The decision by Germany's most popular women's magazine was "absurd" and driven by overweight women who did not like to be reminded of their weight issues.

"These are fat mummies sitting with their bags of crisps in front of the television, saying that thin models are ugly," Lagerfeld said in an interview with Focus magazine. The creative director of the fashion house Chanel added that the world of fashion was all to do "with dreams and illusions, and no one wants to see round women".

This coming from a man who has had his own well-documented battles with the bulge. It is starting to become obvious to me that these designers (many of whom are gay men) who claim to know what the ideal of a beautiful woman is and continually pontificate to the masses so as to push this ridiculous fantasy, are actually showing the world what their personal fantasy is--that is flat-chested and curve-less teenage boys. Nothing wrong with that if you are selling to teenage boys, but we beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes and have curves and cellulite. It is time that the designers started catering to us and not some image that even they have to create via photoshop. Major hot air alert!

Speaking of hot air. Here is the latest from Rush Limbore. The self-proclaimed leader of all things "right" once again showed his true colours this week when the big boys at the NFL refused to let him play in their exclusive game of pick-up. It seems that Rush had wanted to fulfill a childhood fantasy and become a part owner of my beloved St. Louis Rams. As if an 0-5 start, no offense, very little defense, a rookie head coach and a quarterback who can't stay healthy aren't problems enough for the moribund franchise, they actually entertained the notion of selling to the mouth that roared! When word leaked out of Limbore's possible bid, players, the player's association, the Reverends Al and Jesse and even the commissioner expressed some misgivings about some of Major GasBag's previously documented comments on race, race relations and black football players in particular. "Look, let me put it to you this way: the NFL all too often looks like a game between the Bloods and the Crips without any weapons. There, I said it." Here's another gem. "The NAACP should have riot rehearsal. They should get a liquor store and practice robberies." And of course, there is the infamous Donavon McNabb epsiode on ESPN. "I think the media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well.  They’re interested in black coaches and black quarterbacks doing well.  I think there’s a little hope invested in McNabb and he got a lot of credit for the performance of his team that he really didn’t deserve."

Now to be fair, the owners and the commissioner never let Rush's foray toward the elite circle get very far. Dave Checketts, the owner of the St. Louis Blues and the lead man in Rush's team bounced him before the bid even made it past the drawing board stage. He was too polarizing and certainly not the image that this hopeful ownership group wanted to project to the citizens of St. Louis or to the NFL. Rush blew like a volcano. Blaming a left-winged conspiracy and socialism on a scale not seen since LBJ introduce Medicare, Limbore huffed and puffed with self-importance as to the menace in his midst and how his situation was in his words "about the future of the United States of America and what kind of country we're going to have." Give me a break. We are talking about a group of people who have supported more conservative and right-wing causes then most of America. Jack McCallum at CNNSI said it better than I ever could.

In point of fact, however, l'affaire Limbaugh -- which was inarguably a public relations disaster for the group that first invited him, and then disowned him -- exemplifies two quintessential realities of America, ones that I have to assume Limbaugh himself embraces. Namely:

• When you become a business liability, your once-chummy fellow businessmen will turn on you.

• Actions have consequences.

McCallum continues.

No, Limbaugh was a red flag, trouble from the start, which Checketts (who in the past has been a sharp guy) and his group should've realized. Why? Not because Limbaugh is a political conservative, a designation that no doubt describes the great majority of NFL owners (and probably owners in all the major sports). But because when, given the chance, he devolves into a race-baiting provocateur.

Well said, Mr. McCallum and may this be the end of Rush in a Ram's jersey.

It was with some amusement that I watched CNN's coverage of Rush this week. They actually broke into a story about health care to announce Rush's dismissal from the Ram's bid. BREAKING NEWS?? Hardly. So I couldn't have been all that stunned to watch the cables all trip over themselves with the non-story of the balloon boy who wasn't. For over 3 hours, the newsnets followed the flying saucer over the Colorado skies, only to discover that the boy was hiding from and fearing daddy's wrath in the attic. While I can understand hoping for the safe recovery of the young lad, can we all admit that news networks have lost their focus and have taken their collective eyes off of the proverbial ball? Has October become that slow a news cycle that this is what now passes for a story? 3 hours, people! 3 frigging hours! Olympia Snowe only received 15 minutes and she actually did something newsworthy. When John and Kate are the lead story and balloon boys who aren't dominate the day, I believe it is a sign that the apocalypse is upon us. The press has truly stopped doing their job. When Ted Turner is wondering what happened to the network he founded, we should all take heed.

This shit is what passed for news this week. May we all see it for what it truly is--Hot air rising into oblivion.

Gloria Steinem on Outrageous Acts

Happy 75th Ms Steinem. You continue to inspire, challenge and motivate women everywhere.
http://outrageousacts.org

41 with 3 Kids and Apparently Over-the Hill!

I have never been a huge Julia Roberts fan. I have enjoyed a few of her movies and I have been bored by many others, but I certainly recognize that the woman has had a remarkable movie career. She broke through a glass ceiling in terms of compensation at a time when Hollywood was all about male action stars and adolescent testosterone-driven teen comedies. She was one of the first female stars to be recognized as having the ability to carry a film on her name alone, and she was one of the few female stars who carried enough clout to get pet projects to the screen. There was a time, not so long ago that Julia's name alone was enough to drive the numbers at the box office. But, that was so last century. 

You see, Julia has taken a couple of years off from the movie making business in order to attend to her personal life. Over the past several years she and her husband have had 3 children, and she has effectively scaled back her professional responsibilities to a few small roles and some voice-over work. She has done what millions of working women the world over have done-choose. Yes of course, Julia's financial situation makes her choices easier. She has options that most women can only dream of, but in Julia's business face time is money. She knowingly removed herself willingly from the public consciousness in order to parent, and she had to understand that there might be professional consequences. Hollywood is, after all, nothing if not amnesiac and cruel. 

This week marked Julia's return to the big screen. Her movie, Duplicity hit theatres this past weekend and in the minds of the Hollywood press, is a bit of a box-office disappointment. Despite fairly decent reviews, (Rotten Tomatoes has its average at 65% fresh!) the unbelievably hot Clive Owen and a smart and sexy plot, the flick finished third behind the universally panned Nic Cage stinker (A quick commercial message. Older Son saw that this was a piece of crap coming down the pike in his online column Trailer Trash) and the undoubtedly hysterical bromance I Love You, Man. There are probably many reasons as to why Julia and Clive finished third in this week's box-office. (Young men are the target audiences for most movies and a romantic thriller is probably not their idea of a cool 2 hours.) But, the most offensive and totally misogynistic theory  that I have heard today, is that she is too old, too maternal and no longer viewed by the public as available and sexy. Julia Roberts??? I get that the entertainment business is a youth-driven environment, but this is Julia Roberts! Angelina Jolie has six kids and she has never been accused of being viewed as maternal. Jennifer Aniston is 40 and she seems to have the sexy-thing going! Why is the Hollywood press feeling the need to justify perceived disappointment of a fairly decent 14 million dollar box office, by using Julia and her age as the apparent scapegoat? Maybe the not so ideal weather on the east coast kept women and the intellectual elite (we are way too smart to go out in the rain, snow and cold!) at home? Maybe the financial crisis has hit this target audience pretty hard and movies have become somewhat of a luxury? Maybe, just maybe (although I cannot fathom a reason why!) audiences don't like Clive Owen as opposed to Julia? 

I am so very weary of feeling that as a 46 year old woman, I am totally ignored by the media. I rarely see depictions of women like me in magazines, movies, TV shows, commercials and the like. I am tired of feeling like these images are what passes for some Hollywood mogul's skewed view of reality. But, if a woman like Julia Roberts is now feeling the heat, then I know that I am in some fairly respectable company. I am now making plans to see Duplicity, not because I have a burning desire to be entertained by Ms. Roberts, but because I feel a kindred need to add to her box-office totals. Come on girls! Show the assholes in the suits who is boss!