The Night Sweats Have Begun in Earnest

No, this isn't a post about menopause. While those kinds of night sweats might seem preferable to the type that began last evening with gusto, this is instead about the advent of that most beloved and yet, most reviled of all Jewish holidays. I am, of course, talking about the impending arrival of Pesach. (Passover for all of you non-hebraic types!) Without even realizing the exact date on the calendar, Pesach-induced hysteria began for me yesterday when I walked into the local grocery store down here in the frigid Southern Home, and watched all of the denizens of Baycrest south madly pulling matzah meal and matzah farfel off of the shelves, as if this might be the last kugel ever ingested. Without getting into a debate about the Hebrew lunar calendar, for all of us Westerners that actually live by the Gregorian version, Pesach is indeed arriving early this year, and that fact hit me square in the eyes last night. (It didn't help that the Sister/Cousin arrived a day ago with an expressed agenda to discuss the annual family plan!)

A Pesach seder is one of the three things for which most Jews, regardless of their level of faith or observance, will find time. (A bris and bar mitzvah being the other two.) It seems to be one of those ancient customs that defines us as a people. Everybody has an opinion about seder. For some families it is all about the food, for others the family gathering, and for some it is the Judaic component that ties it all together. And while I find comfort and significance in all of these, as anybody who has EVER planned, cooked, cleaned or prepared for Pesach in any way, shape or form will tell you, it is also a SHITLOAD of work. We all have lives that are busy and complicated, and Passover is kind of like the flu; it creeps up on you slowly and then hits you square in the face before you have had time to react.

My family is no exception. We have always tried to gather as many of the extended branches together for a big, honking old-style family seder. We cook, we plan, we clean, we sing, and we have over the years, created many a family Haggadah. Some have been accepted and some have been merely tolerated, but we continue to experiment and try new things. We have had arguments over food and we have had battles over the dividing up of responsibilities, but we still manage to come together as best we can as a collective. (Other family commitments always understood!) This year will be no different with the expressed exception that the Sister/Cousin (yes-I am calling you out!!!) has asked me to re-examine the Haggadah. Without going into family politics, I have hedged. I am perfectly willing to lead the family in song and I am perfectly willing to help with whatever cooking and cleaning might be needed, but the Haggadah is a project that I am not so willing to tackle again. It is complicated and never easy, and frankly it CANNOT possibly please us all. That said, I would like to propose a possible idea, with the expressed caveat that if it doesn't work, I can abandon ship and we revert to the book used last year.

I am asking all of you-related to me or not-friend, stranger, or colleague-to send me your Passover ideas. I want the best of what you have. I want your favourite readings and I want your favourite songs. I want your recipes and I want your kid's projects from synagogue or school. I want interactive, online, printed book, and games. I want new liturgy and I want old. I want Bubby's ideas and I want the youngest at the table's. Send it all to me. Every scrap, every page, every note. I will then take what I get and what I already have and try to make something resembling a seder out of it.

If you send me readings from books, please include the title and page number. If you send me stuff from a Haggadah, I need to know which one. If you have a particular song-I need the artist and album; a website-the address. In other words, reference your stuff people. I won't use it unless I can credit. It is only appropriate.

There is a deadline for this little exercise. The first seder is on March 29th and I need time to prepare, so you all have until Friday evening March 19th. Shabbat and all. You can respond in the comments section of this blog. Facebook is also available for those in the know, as is my private email.

Take care friends. This is an exercise that matters a great deal to me. (The Husband is probably groaning out loud as he reads this! Relax Honey. I have given myself an out!) Don't hedge or hesitate. There is nothing that I will deem too off-the-wall. Time is of the essence. The night sweats will only get worse as 15 Nissan approaches.

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.

When The Message Gets Lost

I am a huge fan of dog shows. I realize that this passion is a bit off the wall and I know that many of you would rather watch paint dry then tune into a canine convention, but it is a love that permeates to the deepest regions of my soul. I believe that it comes from my childhood and a unique experience afforded me by my Other Father.

When I was a kid, my Other Father and Other Mother owned and operated a small breeding kennel that raised Miniature Schnauzers and Bichon Frises. They ran this business out of their home, so it was inevitable that the 4 of us younguns would be drafted into service to do whatever needed to be done. While we fought vehemently against cleaning the pen, (I still maintain that gloves are better than shovels!!) we loved the care, feeding, playing with, and training of the multitude of puppies and young adult dogs that passed through. (Some were so beloved that they never left!) My mother the nurse, and thus the closest thing we had to a vet, was in charge of whelping, and Other Father became an expert in all things American and Canadian Kennel Club.

It became obvious early on that in order to make a good name for the kennel, showing the animals was a necessity. Customers love the title of show champion on their pets, and they scrupulously research lineages. Showing provided all of that and it enabled the kennel to raise its profile in the doggie world. I was the child who showed the most interest in the process, so I was allowed to tag along from time to time to such far-flung locales as Cobourg and Peterborough, and when my Bichon Alfie was in the circuit, I was even permitted on occasion to take him through his paces. Oh the excitement. Seriously. I loved it.

The dog world is comprised of a truly unique group of souls. There are a lot of women clad in cheap polyester suits and sensible shoes. At the major competitions, the judges come decked out in evening wear. Behind the scenes, there are more hair care, nail, and teeth whitening products than can be found in the finest salons and spas. But, this is a community of true and committed animal lovers. Nobody can ever doubt their passion for the dogs, nor should anybody question their love and concern for animals.

Which made the ridiculous protest by two misguided PETA supporters at The Westminster Kennel Club dog show all the more irritating. As the Best in Show competition was just getting underway, two well-dressed women made their way to the centre of the show ring and help aloft signs that said ""Mutts Rule" and "Breeders Kill Shelter Dogs' Chances". The sold-out crowd gasped in disbelief and proceeded to boo the women off the floor as security removed them. What was truly sad about the display, is that Westminster and the American Kennel Club have been tremendous supporters of the efforts to adopt shelter dogs. Every commercial break on USA Network featured at least one ad advocating the practice. The crowd was filled with well-heeled and celebrity dog lovers. Bernadette Peters was in attendance. She is one of the driving forces behind Broadway Barks, a New York program that actively pursues these adoptions. Last summer The Husband and I were fortunate enough to attend the street adoption fair that she hosts every year on Shubert Alley, and we witnessed many dogs find new homes. The idea that PETA thought that this show was the ideal location to launch yet another misguided protest, demonstrates to me how irrelevant and fringe they have become. Their messages are getting lost in the stupidity and poor timing of their activism. It seems to me that there might be better ways and means of advocating for animals without alienating the very people who purport to support you.

I am an animal lover and more specifically a dog devotee. This stretch of five years is the longest I have gone without a canine companion since the age of six, and believe me I miss it every single day. When the time comes to bring another four-legged friend into my home, I will seriously consider a shelter dog, but I do not need nor do I want PETA to garner any of the credit for my decision. They need to re-think their strategies.

Anybody but Gretzky

I realize that this will make me less than a patriotic Canadian, but I am not a huge fan of these or any Olympic Games. In a previous post, I lamented some of the issues that I had with the Summer Games. With the distinct absence of European Handball, my feelings about the Winter Games isn't all that different. I still believe that the Olympics have become a bloated, excessive, expensive and over-hyped experience that is primarily run by large corporations for the expressed purpose of shilling their products. The very idea that McDonald's is an Olympic partner, pushing unhealthy eating habits to a passive sports-watching world, is beyond ironic.

That said, it is difficult to ignore the sense of patriotism swirling throughout my country these days. Canada rarely has a world stage on which to show herself off, and these Games should display to the world that we are so much more than Mounties, Celine Dion and hockey. Ok, maybe not the hockey thing.

You see, there is a savage debate raging at home as to who should light the flame this evening. Newspapers columnists and average Joes alike have all put in their two-cents, and the majority seems to be decided on the Great One. I passionately disagree!

While it is truly understood at home that hockey rules and that Wayne Gretzky is the finest that Canada has ever produced, I submit that he has had very little to do with The Olympics. True, it was Wayne who guided the Canadian men to gold in 2002, but he didn't play nor did he coach. He managed. Gretzky was never a successful Olympic athlete and in my opinion, that should be the starting point for any discussion as to who should be honoured with the final torch trip. Canada has had several worthy winter athletes who have brought great honour to our country, and while most of them have already participated in the torch relay, that should in no way preclude them from the ultimate honour.

I will suggest three such individuals for the honour. Gaetan Boucher, Catriona Le May Doan, and my personal favourite Nancy Greene. All three of these individuals are multiple Olympic and World Cup medal winners, with Le May Doan actually defending her title at successive winter games. But it is Greene whom I believe is the obvious choice. She is a born and bred British Columbian who was voted Canada's female athlete of the 20th Century. She is still Canada's most decorated skier, male or female, and she is widely credited with breaking European domination in the sport. It is true that I am too young to remember her flying down the Grenoble slopes to victory in 1968, but the mere fact that I am mentioning her in the same breath as Gretzky, should indicate just how famous and beloved she still is in Canada. She serves as a Conservative in the Canadian Senate and many have suggested that her political leanings should disqualify her from the discussion, but I heartily disagree. Her unfortunate alliance with Sweatered Stevie has absolutely nothing to do with her Olympic glory and watching her light the cauldron in her hometown would be a honour befitting her special place in Canadian sport's history.

We Canadians live, breathe, and absorb hockey. It is part of our national fibre and character. The hockey gold medals are truly the only ones that most of my country people care about during these games. There is really no equivalent that I can describe to any of you that haven't experienced our maniacal passion for the game. That said, I believe that the ultimate sports honour that we Canadians can bestow at these hometown Olympic Games should go to an Olympian. An Olympic hero who shone the spotlight beautifully and brightly on her country. With all due respect to Mr. Gretzky, the Olympics are really not his legacy.

Aggravating Travel Experience #165,278

It never ends. Every single time that I think that I have the airport and flying experience nailed, something else arises that throws my entire thought process into a manic whirling dervish of utter chaos. If I hadn't lived through this day I wouldn't have believed it myself, so I will absolutely understand if any of you doubt my veracity, but I swear it upon the lives of those whom I hold most dear that everything that what I am about to relate is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me Great Being. I will attempt to edify the day in an organized timeline so that it is easier to follow.

5:45 am. I never sleep well the night before I fly, probably due to the fact that control freaks like me totally relinquish control when entering the seventh circle of hell also known as the airport. After a mere 20 or so minutes of sleep, I rise in order to shower and prepare for my departure to the world's most poorly managed and most stupidly run airport, also known as Toronto Pearson.

6:50 am. The Husband drops me off at the doors of Terminal 1. I am scheduled to depart for Fort Lauderdale on an Air Canada direct flight leaving at 9:50 am. If you will notice the time differential, I am a full three hours early for my flight, just like all airline personnel and politicians having been suggesting for travel to the States since the infamous Underwear incident. I have web-checked in and pre-printed my boarding pass and my US customs card is already filled out. I have no checked baggage and I am carrying a small backpack with some personal items, my computer, and a small purse. I am ready to brave customs and security, right? Not so fast.

7:00 am. The thousands of waiting passengers at Terminal 1 are informed that nobody is permitted to enter the customs hall until their particular flight number is called. Why? Nobody is really certain. Air Canada employees are as baffled as the rest of us. It seems that the Greater Toronto Airport Authority (GTAA) in conjunction with the Canadian Air Transportation Safety Association (CATSA) and the American Transportation Safety Association (TSA) are having trouble figuring out these new security measures including the full body scanners, and how to make the entire process work. I guess they figure if they can control the numbers in customs hall, they can better regulate security. Bullshit. There are literally waves and waves of people mingling in the halls of Terminal 1 waiting to be called. The security concerns out there should have been apparent. One crazy person yelling out the wrong thing and hundreds would have been trampled. Not only that, but by not allowing people to enter security on their own schedules, they are creating huge bottlenecks at both the customs windows and at security. I know. I was caught in this jam. I should note that NEXUS card holders are permitted to enter at their leisure. I make a point of whipping myself over my procrastination in procuring mine. The process starts today.

9:30 am. My flight is finally allowed to enter into the customs hall. Note that I have now been waiting in the outer terminal for 2 1/2 hours, doing nothing but fuming. My flight is scheduled to depart in 20 minutes as are the other 3 large flights called to Orlando, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. Thousands more of us cattle are herded through the the 5 available agents (out of 20 possible windows???) in relatively painless fashion. My poor overworked civil servant was not at all impressed with me, and kept prodding as to why I needed to return to Fort Lauderdale. He finally deigned to let me pass and that is when the fun really started.

9:40 am. I enter into the labyrinth known as Pearson security. The line snakes around the entire terminal and is not moving at all. Air Canada employees are futilely attempting to keep to their schedules, and they are pulling passengers out of line in order to get them to the already delayed flights. Several people miss flights to Philly and Minneapolis because the efforts are simply not enough. At one point a frazzled AC worker asks who is still in line for the 9:50 to Fort Lauderdale and over 100 of us raise our hands. I note that parents with children in strollers and those unfortunates in wheelchairs make their way to a special line and are herded through without hassle. I decide that next time I am renting a baby for the trip.

10:10 am. My flight was scheduled to depart 20 minutes ago. I am finally at the front of the line and the CATSA worker directs me to a security row. NOBODY SEEMS TO BE WORKING THERE!!! Not only that, but one of the metal detectors is out of order. Finally, Rahema comes to check me out. She takes my boarding pass and states the obvious. "You were supposed to leave 20 minutes ago". ARGHHHHHH! I keep cool, tell her that I am aware of the problem and inform her as to the issues at customs. She has the audacity to ask me what is going on, like I know? She keeps my boarding pass and sends me through the metal detector and tells me that I have been flagged for the body scan and a full customs search. She opens every single thing in my purse and backpack. She sprays my asthma puffers. She checks and opens my Purell. She swabs every single item. She takes every single credit card out of my wallet and she even checks to see if the three pens I had with my wrote ink. I am beside myself. I am certain that I am doomed to reschedule my flight.

10:30 am. I finally leave security and rush downstairs to my gate. We were told at customs that we would be departing from gate 151. I need to pee and I haven't eaten, but there is no time. I rush toward the gate, only to see 10 people running the other direction screaming that Fort Lauderdale has been moved to gate 164 at the other end of the hall. I reverse field and run like hell.

10:45 am. I board the plane only to discover that half of the passengers are still not there. I am sweating, thirsty, (they refuse to give me water until we are airborne) and I need to pee, but I cannot until we takeoff.

10:55 am. My seat mates arrive. They are an elderly couple embarking on a cruise. The man informs me that he wants to sit on the aisle, my seat. I explain to him that I also want the aisle and that is why I booked the seat. He states again loudly and firmly that he fully expects me to take the window. I stated categorically that I will not. He finally sits. I note that his pants are open and his fly unzipped. Lovely!

11:05 am. There are babies in front of me, behind me, and beside me. All are screaming because they are off schedule. Pilot comes on to apologize for the delay and makes it clear how he feels about it. He notes that it isn't Air Canada's fault and encourages us all to write letters to CATSA, GTAA and our MPs in Ottawa to protest an absolutely unacceptable travel experience. I close my eyes and pray for sleep before takeoff.

11:25 am. Finally in the air. 1 1/2 hours late. Babies are miserable, old man still has his fly unzipped and I am thirsty and hungry, but at least I peed.

12:05 pm. Flight attendants come through cabin with sandwiches from Quiznos. I take note of the veggie sandwich and decide that the 7 buck rip-off is worth quelling my hunger. I am told that they don't have anymore. I guess that the flight was teeming with vegetarians. I ask what other veggie options are available and I am told an Egg McMuffin. Pass!

12:15 pm. Flight attendant offers me a drink. Diet Coke? How about Diet Pepsi. I see the Diet Coke on the cart and insist. I ask for the entire can, but I am rebuffed. "We don't do that anymore", I am told.

12:30 pm. Babies still wailing and now walking up and down the aisles so that their parents might have some relief. I decide to watch a movie. Take out my headphones and turn on the Coen Brother's "A Serious Man".

12:35 pm. Old man needs to pee. Considering the fact that his fly is STILL undone, I figure that he is halfway home. As he gets up to get around me, he loses his balance and lands in my lap. EWWW. As he falls, he lands on my headphones, ripping them out of the jack and breaking off the end. I can still listen, but only with one ear. An excursion to Best Buy is in my future.

2:00 pm. We are told that we will be landing in a few minutes. Not soon enough. We circle the area for 35 more minutes before landing.

2:35 pm. Terra Firma. The Fort Lauderdale airport is packed with departing Super Bowl revellers, all looking slightly hungover and stinking from beer. Thank God I do not have to worry about luggage.

4:00 pm. After picking up a few groceries, I stop at an ATM to get some American cash. The f@#*ing machine is out of order. Of course it is. I head home and try and forget the entire day.

I realize that we all live in a new world order since 2001, but I am tired of the airline industry complaining of declining profits, nickel and dimeing us to death, treating us like unimportant irritants in the transportation machine and still expecting us to bail them out when they are in trouble. If I arrive early, I should not be penalized for it, I should be applauded for it and rewarded. I wouldn't have minded the hour long security process, the pat down or full body scan, if I hadn't been so delayed wasting time in terminal for no apparent reason. The true irony is that American airports are functioning as business as usual. The GTAA and CATSA needs to rethink their US security strategy at the airports, otherwise the public will be rethinking air travel altogether.

Welcome to the Information Age

I realize that I have been a bit remiss in posting this month. That small glitch is partly due to my inherent laziness, but it is also partly due to my re-thinking of this blog and if it should continue. I am deeply appreciative of all of you who have read, continued to read and have commented (mostly in the positive) on my rantings and ravings. But, I have begun to seriously wonder as to why anybody would care about the half-formed thoughts of an occasional-time cantorial soloist from the outer reaches of the North Jewish Ghetto on the outskirts of Toronto. I have heard definitions of bloggers that range anywhere from intellectual self-gratifiers to narcissistic a**holes, and I have begun to wonder if my need to write this piece wasn't in fact a deeper-seated need that was screaming for validation. For those of you that buy into the self-aggrandisement argument, I realize that there will be no altering your point of view and I bid you adieu. I have come to the realization that this blog, along with the multitudes of others out there, not only serve to be the voice of the previously silenced, but have forever changed the landscape of how we the people choose to receive and impart information. Together with other forms of new media, (social media sites like Facebook, Twitter and the like) the blogs have become the voice of the people. Several events over the last couple of weeks have elucidated this theory for me.

The results of the Massachusetts senate race was a difficult pill for any left-leaning liberal to swallow. The idea that a republican, even a moderate one, could sit in the seat vacated by the liberal lion was almost too much to bear. To be certain, Mr. Brown tapped into the discontent of the voters who have been stung by the economy, by the apparent complicity between government and a greedy Wall Street, by the empty promises of an administration that began with such promise but has yet to live up to their billing, and by the total distrust of an electorate concerning a health care bill that they viewed as threatening their own fairly decent state package. But, Brown and his team did more. Taking a page out of the Obama online playbook, they raised millions via the internet and reached out to the masses that were out there in cyberspace and hungry for a new voice. They watched their opponent run a badly managed and traditional campaign that was tinged with an air on entitlement, and they instead presented themselves as new, hip, and in touch. (Not an easy task for a Republican!) This was all done with the help of social media networks and the blogosphere. Scott Brown clearly demonstrated to all observers what the Democrats and especially the President had forgotten. That the world is increasingly paying attention online and those who neglect those forms of media will ultimately lose. The proof is that in the wake of the Republican victory in Massachusetts, Obama has reassembled his campaign team from 2008 in order to stem the tide for massive losses in the midterms.

On the other side of the border, thousands of people gathered in below freezing temperatures across the country last Saturday, and in several far-flung locations for expats, to protest the recent prorogation of Parliament by our fearless leader Sweatered Stevie. (Can anybody honestly tell me that they had EVER heard the word prorogue before Harper callously shut down the government last year??) The protests were organized by a grassroots group that started on Facebook called Canadians Against Proroguing Parliament. At the time of this writing, the group had amassed an impressive membership of almost 218,000 people. When the Prime Minister decided to halt the work of Parliament until March, most of the traditional media applauded his move as smart and calculating. There was no doubt that the PM was attempting to duck some very difficult questions about Afghan detainee torture, the state of the economy and the ballooning deficit, his highly questionable behaviour and response to the Copenhagen environmental summit, and rising unemployment rates until after the collective mood-altering Olympic haze has passed. CAPP was having none of it. They were initially dismissed by the MSM as a fad and passing fancy. Facebook groups rarely translate into real-world missions, and the MSM were quick to point that out. Well, were they ever mistaken. The photos of the events are proof of the tremendous discontent amongst the traditionally apathetic Canadian electorate, and Harper has watched from the sidelines while his poll numbers have plummeted more than 10 points in 3 weeks. While it is true that those demonstrations will have little effect on the Prime Minister and his incredibly arrogant view of Canadian politics, it has served as a wake-up call for the media and the population across the country that our voices do indeed count.

When the disaster in Haiti hit, the very first images and thoughts that most of us saw, came via Twitter. Much like the Iranian demonstrations of last year, the on-the-ground reporting of average citizens was a first-hand accounting of the devastation in the island nation. Twitter has been dismissed by many as a passing fad, but it is proving to be much more. The immediacy and personal interaction of the micro-blogging site has allowed up-to-the-minute reporting from around the world in a way that is simply not possible with television. Twitter has pointed out success stories, failures, heartbreak and hope in a real and intensely personal manner. Every major media and online information site now has a Twitter account. It is proving to be an excellent way of quickly imparting information. Small organizations should take note.

I'm glad you asked me about those small organizations. I happen to work for one. Religious institutions should be jumping all over the social media bandwagon. We in the business, tend to complain vociferously and continually about attracting people to our services and our programs. Often we hear that people were unaware or simply uninformed. We could run the most exciting, spiritual and fantastic events ever orchestrated, but they fall flat if nobody comes. Most institutions have websites, but we should be taking it further and faster. Program information should be front and centre. It should be on the front page and it should pop with colour. Nobody will search through layers of web pages. People simply don't have the time, nor do they care enough to sift through garbage. If you want them, grab them. If your religious institution hasn't yet formed a Facebook group or page, you are missing out. (Our page is still in its infancy, but it is proving its worth already. You don't need to be a member of the synagogue to join this group!) Add a Twitter account link to the site and update it often. At the recent URJ Biennial, Rabbi Yoffie spoke passionately about the need for congregational blogs, and the union has all of the resources online to help. Perhaps it would be prudent for boards to appoint a technology liaison to oversee these ideas and ensure that they are implemented. These initiatives are merely scratching the surface, but information is power and if we want to attract and re-energize our congregations, we need to be ahead of the curve. We cannot allow ourselves to think that web mastering or Facebook are secondary tools for our congregation. They have become primary links and should be afforded appropriate attention.

I have come to the conclusion that this blog is not merely my way of self-stroking. (OK! There is some of that, I will admit!) Instead, I truly believe that we are witnessing a revolution of information by the people and for the people. It is up to us to figure out the truth from the fiction and to separate the wheat from the chaff. When I first began blogging a couple of years ago, my sister-in-law remarked to me that she was enthralled by the idea of the blogosphere. She stated that she believed that blogs were a bit like a giant time capsule. Millions of people sharing their experiences at exactly the same moment in time. A giant social experiment, if you will. I believe that those of us who are looking at social media and blogging as a fad should heed those before who feared the future in such forms as radio and television. The revolution has begun. All those ready to join, follow me.

A Loving Tribute to Kate

In loving memory of Kate McGarrigle. Performing here with her sister Anna.