Haven't They Learned, Yet?

It seems that the Conservative party of Canada is starting to concern itself with its political fortunes. Their poll numbers have been dropping precipitously since the revelation of the do-nothing budget in the fall and the corresponding rise in unemployment figures. The economy is in turmoil, unemployment insurance is under attack from both opposition members and party insiders, including the wife of the Minister of Finance, who herself has ambitions to be the leader of the Ontario Tories. The Prime Minister has been uncomfortably quiet on hot-button issues like Afghanistan, green projects, and cutting red-tape to release promised stimulus monies, and yet his party has decided that the time was apparently ripe to launch a series of attack ads on the newly-minted leader of the Grits. The new ads attack Michael Ignatieff as a cultural and intellectual elite who has been parachuted back into the country and obviously cannot converse on a genuine level with regular Canadians. Watch:

Haven't we seen this show before? Wouldn't you think that the Conservatives would have learned a real political lesson from the election campaign just waged south of the border? Voters in general have decided to forgo voting for the candidate with the stupid gene, and instead have decided that intelligence, education, ideas and calm temperament are far more important character traits than down-home folksiness and intellectual incuriousity. I don't feel the need to have a beer with my Prime Minister, (I actually don't feel that connection with Sweatered Stevie the Stiff either!) and I don't want him or her making crucial decisions from the proverbial gut. I want him or her to be an esoteric problem solver, creative thinker, articulate conveyor of thought and, frankly an Ivy-League education is a good resume item to help down that path. I want to believe that the people that I elect are smarter than me. If they aren't, then we are all in real trouble. Mr. Ignatieff has a great deal still to prove to the people of Canada before we entrust him with an address on Sussex Drive, but his intellectual prowess and real-world skill set gained from years of teaching, studying, listening and traveling abroad are advantages to his growth as the Liberal leader not character flaws. I think that the Conservative Party of Canada could find a better use for its funds and its "creative" department than these miserable ads. How about employing a few intellectual elites to help solve the economic crisis and other real problems facing this country? I am sure that a few of them could use the work.

Happy Peace and Disarmament Day!

It is no great secret that I am not a tremendous fan of Mother's Day. Last year in this space, I delved into the history of the greatest scam that Hallmark has ever perpetrated on the North American public, but I also acknowledged with some reluctance that there is a true moral dilemma facing all of us on this day. If one subscribes to the school of thought (as do I) that having a separate designated day to heap praise upon moms is tremendously unnecessary, provided that said praise is done on a regular basis, then why is the guilt that comes from external forces to recognize this ridiculousness (those that are BBQing and brunching) so tremendous? If I say to my own children that Mother's Day is meaningless to me, (and it truly is!) why do I feel neglected if I don't hear from them? Have I turned into a classic Jewish mother who bitches and moans? The two-faced monster that has been created out of the debris of Mother's Day is disconcerting to me to say the least. Last year I offered my own mother a thank you list that is still relevant and true.  This year, I thought that rather than look at this retail concoction of a holiday from the point of view of a daughter, I would look at it from a mother's perspective and offer my sons a primer. These are the things that I require from my children and will relieve them of all present and future Mother's Day commitments. Note that none of them involves gift wrap, brunches, wasteful greeting cards or a single flower. 

• Call on a regular basis. I know that this is classic maternal nagging, but mothers require regular contact with their children. It has something to do with that internal shredding that we go through for nine months. We like to think that the pain wasn't suffered needlessly, and a bit of vocal contact with our progeny satisfies the separation anxiety. (Instant messaging can also accommodate the same thing, but there is a closeness that is achieved by hearing your voices. It sets off the maternal pheromones.)
• When you do manage to find the time to call, support your end of the conversation. I hate feeling like I am pulling teeth when I talk to my children. Initiate, converse and fill in details. I don't know why, but the minutiae of your lives is important to me.
• Keep me posted about the exciting and the mundane. Every day isn't filled with life highlights, nor do I expect every day to be a laugh riot, but keeping me up to date is crucial to me. It allows me the belief that I am not an after- thought in your worlds. If you really want to give me a gift, indulge my fantasy.
• Put a mezzuzah up on your living quarters. I worked very hard at raising what I hope are competent, caring and proud Jewish men. I don't for a minute expect you to believe all that I believe, but a mezzuzah is a symbol that a Jew lives here. Your Judaism is an integral part of who you are, whether you know it now or not, so indulge me. I have a great deal invested in it. I will even provide the necessary item and the hammer to do the job.
• Keep a measure of family commitment with you, always. While you are both at stages of your lives where independence is sacred, you are never alone and familial support is always paramount. In other words, when you are invited-show up.
• Remain each other's friend. I realize that I am telling you something that I probably don't need to, but there are always issues between siblings that have destructive potential. One of the great joys of my life is knowing that my two sons genuinely and affectionately like each other and enjoy spending time together. I have no idea what I did to deserve this gift, but I want it to stay for a lifetime. A sibling is the only person in your life that knows you from childhood through to old-age. They are the only person that shares all common experiences and bonds. Friends can know some, spouses know some and parents know some, but siblings know all. Cherish each other and rely on each other's strengths while learning from each other's weaknesses. Watching the two of you together is a wonderful gift.
• Let's continue to have fun as a family. We can go to dinner, a movie or simply talk about the philosophy behind Lost. We can argue about the Blue Jays, rail against the Leafs or marvel at a new play. We are learning a new relationship dynamic as adults. Let's enjoy it. 
• I want you both to live happy and productive lives. This means finding self-satisfaction in whatever career path you might choose, and finding life partners that fit with you and your goals and compliments your ambitions. Life is hard enough without someone special to share it with. 

So there you have it. No gifts necessary. Just a few easy (?) life lessons to follow from the old lady that one day expects to be placed in a nice "home" by her boys. I should point out for those that might be interested, that both of the them called today to chat. No gifts mind you, but thoughtful caring conversations. The only hard-copy gift that I received was a single white rose from the clerk at What a Bagel. I appreciated the phone calls much more. 

Happy Peace and Disarmament Day to all.

Suddenly, I am in the Hospitality Biz

When did my house become a hotel with benefits? When did I start running a bed and breakfast free of charge? When did my home become a gratis refuge and storage facility? After almost nine months of peaceful easy feelings and blissful order, cleanliness and organization, my children have returned home, albeit temporarily, and brought with them an avalanche of shit! 

Older Son made his way home this week to begin the long-procrastinated process of packing up his bedroom. He has lived out of the house for most of the past 4 years, and he is finally making the move into his first adult (read: not student!) place of residence. He asked if he could take certain items from the room (like the bed and bookcases) to seed the new place, and The Husband and I were more than willing to accommodate his request, provided that he clean up the space to our satisfaction and toss the crap that has been accumulating over his entire lifetime. After spending most of Tuesday evening cloistered in the room with boxes and garbage bags, he informed me that he has pretty much decided which items would be making the move to the new place and which items would be staying put. STAYING PUT????? I don't want any of it to stay put. I told him that if he left it behind, I would toss it into a dumpster-much to his chagrin. There is stuff in there from his elementary school days, Mad magazines that are at least 5-10 years old, and keepsakes from his camper days. There are clothes in the closet that haven't been worn since Clinton was president (in fairness-most of these are t-shirts from camp!) and video tapes that he can't play anymore because he doesn't own a VCR. (who does?) Now, I am as sentimental as any mother could be, but my attitude is to pack up the memories in a box and heave the rest out with the trash. When I tried to voice my concerns that his room was fast becoming my junk pile, he categorically stated "Don't worry, Mom!" (I hate those three words!!) "I will move everything to the peripheries of the room so that they will be out of the way." My heated response was "Get this shit out of here, NOW!" Funny how we fall back into old parent/child dynamics. The truck is coming on Saturday to move the big stuff and I plan on attending Shabbat morning services so that I don't have to watch his landfill project transfer to my home. I have given him a deadline of June 30th. Whatever is left goes to Goodwill. 

And then there is Younger Son. His freshman year at university is finally at an end, and he returned home yesterday complete with duffle bags and boxes packed to overflowing. I truly don't recall sending him off in September with all of that shit. I offered to drive down with The Husband to pick him up, but I was told that there probably wasn't enough room in the car for all of his crap and me. (Nice isn't it, how I have been lumped in with the crap?) We got him and his paraphernalia into the house and, of course he had trouble finding space for all of it. He asked if he could store some of the crap in Older Son's room, and suffice it to say that the sarcasm that dripped from my mouth is not really printable in this family-style blog. "Just for a while, Mom!" (a few more words that I hate!) He did manage to hide the worst of the mess, so at least I don't have to see it. (Where it is is a true mystery, but I am not tempting the fates.) He came downstairs after the unpacking, raided the refrigerator, asked what was for dinner and vegetated in front of the TV all evening. (4 exams in 3 days!) He then reminded me that he was taking off the next morning for a 5 day road-trip with his frat buddies and that he would see me on Monday. He departed this morning leaving his bed unmade (I guess the maid will get to it?) and a wet towel in the bathroom. He will be back for a few days and then off again next weekend. He is working at camp for the summer and departs at the end of the month, but in the meantime I am dreading the grocery bills. I have become his weigh station.

When people advise you of the "Empty Nest Syndrome", they rarely warn you that it is a temporary state of being. You see, once you have children they are yours for life. They never really and truly leave you. Instead, they leave remnants of their presence in every hall, room and crevice of your personal space. I love my boys, really I do, and I love having them around, but I just don't happen to love all of their stuff. My days as a hotelier are at an end.

I love Geeses to Pieces!

The goslings have arrived! In an update to my previous post about the nesting geese in front of the distillery, I wanted to advise that the little ones made their appearance this afternoon. We sent Older Son out with a flak jacket and the camera again (Mama Goose was in attack mode!) to document the happy event. Hopefully the entire family will find new lodgings as soon as the 5 (we think?) babies are travel-worthy. 

Happy Birthday Pete!

Happy 90th, Mr. Seeger. You have been a true inspiration to musicians, activists, environmentalists and social commentators the world over. May we look back and celebrate with you today a life fully and joyfully lived with admiration, respect for convictions, and art shared with all. Musical celebrations are taking place the world over today, not just in NYC. Concerts and shows scheduled include Australia, Boston, Toronto, Scotland, Richmond Va, Knoxville Tenn., Dayton Ohio, Rockville MD, Bellingham Wash, Seattle, and Ithaca NY. Some interesting Seeger facts.

• Awarded the Mid Hudson Civic Centre Hall of Fame. Pete loves this type of not for profit stuff.
• Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award
• National Medal of the Arts from the National Endowment for the Arts.
• Kennedy Centre Lifetime Achievement Award
• The Harvard Arts Medal
• Induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame
• 2 Grammy Awards-most recently this past year for his album At 89
• The Letelier-Moffat Human Rights Award

Pete is still performing. He was onstage at the concert commemorating President Obama's inauguration, sang a few weeks ago at Earth Day celebrations, and jammed at Preservation Hall in New Orleans last month. While his voice is a bit quieter and his fingers a little slower, the passion is still readily apparent and the music still there in abundance. Yesterday, Older Son asked me what my fascination with Mr. Seeger is all about. (I think that he secretly worried that I might turn into some creepy stalker lady!) I told him, quite bluntly, that every musician that he admires draws some influence from Pete. One only has to review the long and eclectic list of artists honouring him tonight at Madison Square Garden, to see that perspective. Simply put, the man is the best. How can one not admire and be fascinated by the best? Was he perfect? Certainly not. Did he make mistakes? Absolutely! But the music speaks for itself and cannot be denied. Happy Birthday, Mr. Seeger. Many more to come. 

If I Had a Hammer

In 1986, Pete began performing with his grandson Tao Rodriguez-Seeger on a regular basis. This performance of his classic If I Had a Hammer was done in concert with Arlo, Tao and various family members at Wolftrap in 1993. Today, it is not unusual to catch Pete and Tao in local performances close to his home in the Hudson Valley, often supporting environmental causes or even the local church. Just as he does in this video, Pete is still a master of involving the audience. He loves being enveloped by the music of the crowd.

Weavers (Re-union) - Wimoweh

In 1980, suffering from the ravages of tuberculosis and diabetes, Lee Hays decided to finally write his oft-postponed autobiography. That transformed into a very different project that became a documentary film by Jim Brown about The Weavers. Wasn't That a Time was based around interviews and discussions with the various members and culminated with 2 reunion concerts held at Carnegie Hall on November 28th and 29th, 1980. All four of the original members were there; grayer and certainly more worldly, but none the worse for voice, especially Pete. He still hits the high notes on Wimoweh with perfect pitch, delighting the sold-out crowd. Lee Hays died shortly after the concerts at Carnegie, leaving behind a lasting legacy of music, and Pete as the reigning Old Folkie. I love that the interviews in the crowd show people of all generations, young and not-so-old. The circle remains unbroken. Wasn't That a Time can still be viewed from time to time on PBS and is available on VHS at Amazon. What a wonderful way to wish you all Shabbat Shalom.