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. 

Random Thoughts for a Random Day

It has been a strangely quiet and eerily lazy day. While I attempt to keep myself occupied in one location, events elsewhere are causing my mind to wander. With that strangeness fully implanted in all of your subconsciouses, here are just a few of the bizarre notions that have taken over my cerebral cortex in a grotesque attempt at diversion.


1. Two weeks after the hardware was given out in Hollywood, it is almost impossible to find an Oscar winning or nominated film playing at any mainstream theatre down here in South Florida. Instead we are inundated with mediocrity complete with forgettable titles such as Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance, Journey 2: The Mysterious Island, and Safe House. The new Lorax on steroids is playing at 3 separate theatres in the same complex. All the while, television and print ads are touting "the first blockbuster of 2012". It just might be me, but I wonder if Hollywood went back to making movies rather than trying to create blockbusters, if the artistic value of the modern film might be taken more seriously.

2. In the wake of the Rush Limbaugh "non-apology" apology to the women of the world, it got me thinking once again as to why it is so difficult for so many to say the words "I'm sorry" with true conviction. According to Tom Jacobs writing at Miller-McCune, these types of apologies tend not to play well. He cites a 2008 article by Zohar Kampf.

One type of pseudo-apology downplays the transgressor’s degree of responsibility. Kampf identifies five variations on this theme, noting that a wrongdoer can: 1) apologize while undermining the claim that he offended someone; 2) apologize for the outcome but not for the act; 3) apologize for the style but not for the essence; 4) apologize for a specific component of the offense but not for the entire occurrence; and 5) apologize while using syntactic and lexical means to downgrade his responsibility.” The latter category includes referring to an offensive action as a “mistake,” which effectively minimizes guilt.

I recently heard somebody say (I'm sorry, the exact person escapes me) that if one uses the words "if" or "then" in their supposed mea culpas, it is not a true expression of remorse. For example: any apology that begins with this poorly chosen phrase, "If my words or actions offended anybody, then....." cannot be true repentance. Keep this in mind the next time you are the one in line to apologize.

3. I took a slice out of my right heel yesterday when the leg of an old metal chair came down awkwardly onto the side of my foot. Not only has it been incredibly painful to take each and every step, but it is extraordinarily difficult to bandage and keep wrapped due to the odd placement of the cut. I am walking with a sort of out turned pigeon gait limp. The good news? My stalled workout routine which has been dormant for weeks due to a lingering cold and asthma after-effects, has once again been put out onto another short hiatus. I really am starting to wonder if my myriad of ailments over the past few weeks have been accidental or purposeful happenstance designed to keep me off of the torture devices of the gym. It's going to really hurt when I finally get back into it. Karma's way of punishing me for laziness.

4. Purim. Great baked goods, wonderful shtick, booze (if you're into that sort of thing), transvestitism ( if you're into that sort of thing), and the worst Jewish music ever written. Sorry to all of my friends and colleagues in the industry. We need to do better when it comes to Purim. Musically-it kind of sucks!!

5. I think that I will end on a philosophical note. I posted this on Facebook this weekend. "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything You gave me'."-Erma Bombeck.

It has been that kind that kind of a weekend.

More Theatre of the Absurd

Here we go again! I have yet another scene to share with you all in my ongoing one-woman theatre of the absurd piece that I am thinking of titling "Airport Hell: My Life as Suspect". Please note to all of you reading this post who might have ties to or with Customs or Border Patrol, that my tongue is planted firmly in cheek as I write this. I really do respect what these fine people do for a living, keeping the bad people at bay and all, but I just cannot for the life of me figure out why I am constantly being targeted. Also, I need to disclose up front that in this particular case I was technically wrong, but the absurdity is just so acute-well you be the judges.

This evening I am traveling alone on a flight south. I have nothing with me other than my purse and a small backpack which contains a computer, a Kindle, five pair of undergarments (cotton bikini briefs in case you were wondering) and a belt. As is my custom, I use the trusted traveller kiosk. It immediately targets me for secondary screening. The kind agent directs me through ominously frosted double doors where I am forced to relinquish my passport, card, and boarding pass and I am told to wait until called. I sit in the waiting area with two very sketchy looking men, both of whom are schlepping multiple pieces of luggage and gear, and it suddenly dawns on me that maybe I am sketchy looking too. A far too young customs agent calls out my "still-to-me after 49 years" very unfamiliar first name that almost glues me to my seat, believing momentarily that he is barking for somebody else. I approach his desk and have the following exchange.

Him: "Have you ever been arrested?"

Me: (Starting to worry that there might be another with my strange-assed name!) No Sir! (Did you catch the overly solicitous use of the word "sir"? These guys scare the shit out of me!)

Him: "Do you have anything to declare?"

Me: (Trying to figure out the trick question, I answer softly) "No Sir."

Him: "No food?"

Me: (Shit!!! Busted. I forgot about the two throat lozenges that have been collecting lint in the bottom of my purse for the better part of a month due to a lingering cold.) "Oh, I am so sorry. I forgot that I have two Ricolas in my purse." You see-under the trusted traveller program one must declare all food. I swear I forgot that they were there, told him so, and I immediately corrected my error. Not good enough apparently.

Him: (Quite facetiously and snotty) "Do you swallow them? Do they go in your mouth? Therefore they're food. So, why didn't you declare them?" (Every word of this is absolutely verbatim-I couldn't make this up if I tried!!)

Me: "You are right, Sir. I made a mistake."

Him: "So, are you going to lose your card today?"

Me: (With resignation) "I suppose that is up to you."

Him: "Yes it is!!"

He then proceeded to open up my purse and backpack, check every single item, including my bikini briefs, and then made me repack it all. Kind of creepy if you ask me, but really-what dignity was left me? At this point I figured one of two outcomes was before me. Either he sends me home without my card refusing me entry onto the sacred soil, or he makes me eat the offending lozenges right there in front of him and then sends me on my way through, but still without the card. I just couldn't imagine this ending well.

Him: "Consider this your get out of jail free card, young lady! (We have now crossed the line into patronizing.) "You are a trusted traveller, act like it!"

He tried to continue the lecture. I kind of cut him off, figuring that I was screwed anyway.

Me: "I get it. I was wrong. It won't happen again."

Him: "It better not. You have been documented. One more time like this....."

Me: (totally terrified now) "Am I free to go through?"

Him: "On your way."

I qualified this story at the beginning by admitting my guilt. I was technically wrong. I did forget to declare the 2 lozenges, but really.....isn't there a code of logic written somewhere in the customs rules? And are throat lozenges really food? Under his logic if it is put into the mouth and swallowed it meets the definition, but doesn't that make Tylenol food? Medications do not need to be declared under this program. And...how many of you believe that he asked me the declaration question purposefully vague so that I might trip up in the "food" answer? Is it me or did his actions, including feeling up my underwear, cross a line?

I have been targeted too many times to not believe that I am being profiled. I get that they are looking at the swarthy olive skin, the dark eyes, and the Semitic surname. But I am a 4' 11" ,physically unimposing, middle-aged woman who's career is defined as clergy. The profiling loses me there. America-I really like you! Why can't you just once return the love?




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

I love the middle of February. I realize that for most of you stuck in the misery of cold, dark, snowy, slushy, grey North America-February out and out bites the big one. But for a handful of us diehard fanatics, the middle of February is the beginning of that most wonderful of seasons-baseball pitchers and catchers are reporting to camps in Florida and Arizona. I could easily wax poetic about the pastoral beauty of the game and this wondrous time of year when all teams are created equal in the sight of the Almighty, but for you heathens-like The Husband-it is lost somewhere in the glassy stares when new Apple technology is announced and the joy you feel when you discover a new offering at the LCBO.

It has been many years since I have attended Spring Training. My dad took us to Clearwater to watch the Phillies way back in the time before the establishment of my beloved Blue Jays. I have always wanted to make the spring pilgrimage to Dunedin, but this year it is first time when I actually have the time and the true excitement to go. I will be in the land of my people (Miami) just as my boys of summer kick off the year and I was hoping to make the short four and half hour trek up the Gulf Coast for a couple of days to watch, witness, and maybe befriend Travis Snider. I have a mother thing going on for the boy! The Husband is instead being his old stubborn curmudgeonly self and is steadfastly refusing his wife this small but necessary life's pleasure. So I have come up with a list with which he can replace a two trip to baseball nirvana.

• A dog! Almost any dog will do, provided that it is not a chihuahua! Rescue dog, mutt, pure bred. I have love in my heart for most canines. We can start looking Friday morning when I return to TO.
• That trip to Australia that I have been dreaming about for lo these many years. And I don't mean "soon dear". I mean "this year dear!" Seems to me two days in Dunedin is way more manageable than four weeks down under.
• We could travel to the Bonnaroo Arts Festival in Tennessee where we can spend a long weekend camping under the stars, using public facilities, and picnicking with hundreds of thousands of our closest friends. Think Woodstock for the new millennium! Fun fun! I know how much you love crowds and camping out of doors. Hey! Our friend's kids will be there. We can hang with them!
• How about Comic-Con 2012? You could mingle with the trekkies and the "Sheldon clones" like yourself. We could learn to speak Klingon and watch all of the new movie trailers for those superhero movies you love so much. Maybe even arrange a shitach for Older Son?
• We could spend a wonderfully romantic weekend watching all of the Harry Potter movies, all of the Star Trek movies, all of the Marvel movies, and every Ahhnold movie back to back to back to........

Honestly, Husband. Aren't two days in Dunedin easier than all of that?

Find Yourself a Teacher

I am quite certain that in the days and weeks ahead, individuals far more eloquent than I will eulogize Rabbi W. Gunther Plaut with beauty, grace, humor, and scholarly intuitiveness. The man was after all one of the giants of our movement and is often spoken of in reverence and with some humour in these parts as the man who "wrote" the Torah in recognition of his great achievement as the editor of the award winning and widely used "The Torah: A Modern Commentary", or more simply known as "The Plaut Commentary." For now though, it seems an absolutely appropriate time for the swapping of memories and stories. Here are mine.

When I was a young child of about 8, my parents became one of the founding families of Temple Har Zion. The original intent in the founding of Har Zion was to establish a satellite congregation in the north end of Toronto for Holy Blossom. It became obvious early on that the families at Har Zion wanted an independent synagogue, but that didn't stop Holy Blossom from becoming one of their staunchest and earliest supporters. Rabbi Plaut, who was the senior rabbi at Holy Blossom at this time, would often offer help, education, and wisdom, and he would make the trek north of Steeles Ave on the occasional Shabbat to pray and sermonize. As a kid, I could not yet appreciate the power of Rabbi Plaut's magnificent bimah presence, nor was I yet able to fully understand his genius. Frankly, to a child of 8 1/2 his legendary twenty minute sermons were boring and squirm inducing. 

Two years later, Har Zion was ready to dedicate its first sacred space on Bayview Ave. The keynote speaker at that service was Rabbi Plaut. He spoke off the cuff without notes for over a half an hour and was absolutely mesmerizing. He spoke of the need to build houses of worship and of the continuity of the Jewish people,and he had the congregation eating up every word. Even at 10 years old, I knew that I was in the presence of a great man.

Over the years it has been impossible to live within the Toronto Reform Jewish community and not be touched by the influence of Rabbi Plaut. He was the spokesman, the scholar, the leader, the sage. He was incredibly giving of his time and one could not help but marvel at his incredible stamina well into his nineties. 

In Pirkei Avot we are instructed to "Go forward and provide ourselves with a teacher and remove ourselves from doubt." We have been enriched by the presence of our teacher Rabbi Plaut. May his memory be forever a blessing.

Time for Toronto

As I prepare to return to the land of my birth later today, I have been spending some time ruminating over my most recent sojourn to The Southern Home. Contained below are some basic thoughts.

Things I WILL NOT miss about South Florida

• The increasingly aggravating chihuahua across the hall. Deathtraps have begun to invade my dreams and I am concerned that I might act upon these primal emotions.
• The slamming of doors in the halls of the condo.
• The ridiculousness of people who dress their dogs in tutus, feed them from restaurant tables, and push them around in infant strollers. Oh my God!! They're dogs!
• Publix on Hallandale Beach Boulevard! A gang fight just waiting to happen-walkers vs wheelchairs!
• The Hollywood Circle. A piece of roadway designed by a sadistic bastard who obviously bases projects with visions of hell on earth dancing in his head!
• The tragic-comedy that is the Republican primary process and the myriad of ads and robocalls accompanying it. We all know that Romney will be the last out of the clown car, so just get on with it and leave us all with some degree of peace.
• My defective and rather noisy washing machine that seems to be planning an escape route all its own.
• The f*#% you attitude that is so pervasive amongst so many down here-whether they be on the roads, in a store, in a restaurant, or at the beach. I understand the principles of individual liberty upon which this country was founded, but when your liberties trample upon mine I think that there is a problem. No, it isn't ok to make a left-hand turn from the right-hand lane directly in front of me. No, it isn't ok to cut in line to avoid the twelve people behind you and then swear like a sailor when called out on your behaviour. No, it isn't ok to honk your horn at the old woman with a walker who couldn't navigate the crossing in the time provided. No, it isn't ok to skunk somebody else's parking spot. No, it isn't ok to walk directly in front of me at the store and stand there figuring out what you want without any regard to my continued presence. Some civility training and basic manners reminders would go a long way.

But, all of that aside.....I have come to understand that this stuff is a small price to pay for.....

Things that I WILL miss about South Florida

• The world existing in true colour, rather than the many shades of grey so apparent at home during the winter months.
• The warm temperatures and soft breezes, rather than the mercury dipping lower than a high school boy's pants and winds that chill from the inside out.
• Spending time with my parents.
• The simplicity I have attached to life down here.
• Reading. I read voraciously down here.
• On Demand television. I have to say as a Bell TV customer, we miss that at home.
• Internet shopping. Canada is still playing a huge catch-up game with the US on internet commerce. It is easy, inexpensive, and really fast down here.
• The dolphins and manatees that have been visiting with increasing regularity. They constantly remind me of my love for animals, my love for the oceans, (even though given my seasick history, I probably shouldn't be travelling on them) and that when I watch these glorious creatures I feel heaven and earth touch.
• My lack of socks and shoes.
• My lack of a coat. 

I look forward to seeing my Canadian friends soon and I look forward to my timely return to my Southern Home.

Dayenu!

OY!! What a day I've had. You be the judge. Dayenu! (On Passover we say Dayenu!-It would have been enough. Trust me. Today? It would have been enough!)

Had I only had a decent night's sleep? Dayenu!


Had I only woken refreshed and not cranky? Dayenu!


Had I only been able to sit in the sun today reading and not fallen asleep in my chair? Dayenu!


Had falling asleep in my chair not caused a sunburned face? Dayenu!


Had my sunburned face not caused a more than painful experience in the shower? Dayenu!


Had my less than satisfying shower and cranky behaviour not caused me to drop body lotion all over my bathmat? Dayenu!


Had the unclean bathmat been easily cleaned? Dayenu!


Had I not needed to throw said bathmat into my faulty washing machine? Dayenu!


Had I not absent-mindedly closed the laundry room door after starting the machine? Dayenu!


Had my bathmat been properly centred in the machine and the machine not decided to go for a walk? Dayenu!


Had the walking washing machine not blocked the closed laundry room from the inside? Dayenu!


Had the other door on the outside of the laundry room opened and not been painted shut? Dayenu!


Had the hinges on the laundry room door been on the outside as opposed to the inside? Dayenu!

Had the washing machine been empty rather than filled with water making the machine twice as heavy to attempt to move? Dayenu!

Had this event/catastrophe happened before 5:00 pm so that the engineering people in the building were still here working? Dayenu!


Had any of the people I brought in to attempt said move had an arm reach longer than a strand of linguine? Dayenu!


Had I been born with an easy going nature rather than type A so that the idea of a blocked laundry room door with a wet bathmat held within didn't drive me to distraction as we headed out to dinner? Dayenu!


Had our dinner companions reached us to inform of their illness before we drove all the way up to Lauderdale? Dayenu!


Had I been able to ignore the situation upon my return? Dayenu!


Had I thought enough to call my 6'5" neighbour with the point guard reach 3 hours earlier so that he could reach around the door, turn off the machine, empty the water, and finally move the f*@#ing tin box away from the door so that I could finally access the room and retrieve the smelly wet bathmat? Dayenu!


Lessons learned from this experience? I need a new washer and dryer. I need a locksmith to open the other door from the laundry room. Never close the laundry room door while the old appliances are still here and when in doubt--SIZE DOES MATTER!!!