In the Merry Merry Month of......June?

I've decided to give myself the "Choices Challenge." Namely: my claim is that every day is a series of decisions, great and small. So each day of June (consciously 30 days), I intend to write about one of the many decisions of the day (I'll work the "features" in, never fear).

---------------------------

Did you ever want to be someone you aren't? Pretty sure everyone breathing has, at some time or other. Did you ever want to be the person you know yourself to be, but feel you aren't at that moment? Assuredly, this imbalance may be felt in all kinds of serious matters. Me, I'm just wondering where my blonde highlights went. When I was little, my hair was dirty blonde. Then, it darkened to light brown. Then it darkened to brown, but at least I had blonde highlights with a bit of red (more blonde, though). It was interesting - or a little bit interesting, when examined closely. Caught the light, and all that. Now, though, my hair is plain old brown. Not a bad color as colors go. Not as dull as it could be. But nothing intriguing either, not even from an angle. I'm hoping that some lemon juice and Jerusalem sun will retrieve them from their hiding place.

NOT me.
My hair is a lot longer, but these colors are what I mean by "interesting," and remind me of my old self.

(The day's decision, if you missed it, was to douse myself with lemon juice before running errands in the sunshine.)

A merry month to you!

Quick: Favorite Holiday?

As a matter of principle, I've never had two "Quick" questions in a row, but it seems the rule is made to be broken. This question was one of my first "quick" questions, when I discovered the idea as a focal point for a wayward class, and it's seasonal...

What IS your favorite holiday? Probably, you like different holidays for different things. But doesn't one stand out?

I have two calendars of holidays....the good ol' American days and the Jewish calendar. On the American front, both July 4th and Thanksgiving rank high - they tend to be relaxed family days with good eats (at least, when I have the opportunity to be with family), and - in my family, anyway - little reason for hassle. Every family has its dysfunctionality, but at least nobody in mine takes issue with being seated next to anyone else, and so on. In fact, these days demonstrate a remarkable lack of family conflict.

My favorite holiday on the Jewish calendar is Shavuot. I think that may even have been the case when I was in 8th grade, and our drama teacher posed the same question (though this makes no sense to me, historically, so perhaps my memory deceives).

Shavuot captures me both because of the experience of the day and the meaning of the day.

Let's start with the experience:

Jewish tradition encourages greenery (flowers), dairy meals (cheesecake), and staying up all night to learn Torah. Personally, I'm in favor of each of these things (though I don't pull all-nighters as often as I used to), which makes all of them together in one day a wonderful trifecta (I may be exaggerating with that term, but you get the point).  To find enticing illustration of the dairy, see here: http://ayalayoung.blogspot.com/2012/05/isnt-it-ironic.html, though my favorite cheesecake is a 1981 recipe from Seventeen Magazine, adapted by my cousin and me (if I had digital pictures, I'd post them...yet another example of the absence of digital pics getting in my way...I'll have to make it and photograph it!). Ayala wouldn't like it, though, because it involves a good number of chocolate chips.

Me, I like the flowers too:

As for meaning, well, historically, the holiday of Shavuot commemorates the season of the beginnings of the harvest. It's the time when the "first fruits" were offered as sacrifices to God in thanksgiving, giving the initial reapings to the One who allows the fields and trees to produce. It's the time when the counting of the Omer is complete - with a bracha every night if you manage it - and the barley sacrifice gives way for wheat.

Not mentioned in the Torah, Shavuot is the anniversary of the giving of the Torah. That would be the "anniversary" of the marriage between God and the Jewish People - with His unbending commitment to the Children of Israel (despite the suffering of Jewish history that follows).

It's also the time when Megillat Ruth is read, and it has long been my sense that this book holds the key to the "secret" of Shavuot (I even wrote about it in 2008 - see page 41).

The day that commemorates the giving of the Law has (essentially) no laws associated with it uniquely (aside from that sacrifice of wheat). In contrast, Pesach (Passover) is the holiday that celebrates freedom - and it is replete with laws that have only grown in number by leaps and bounds over the centuries. If the details of Pesach teach the privilege that accompanies serious assumption of responsibility, then the absence of detail in receiving the Torah highlights the opportunities found in the white space between the letters of the law. What are we to do in areas that inherently, necessarily remain unlegislated?  After all (believe it or not), even the most casuistic legal systems involve their practitioners beyond the letter of the law.

Thus, Megillat Ruth teaches the primacy of "chesed" - lovingkindness, or even just plain old regular kindness. Kindness takes us out of ourselves - and by definition, chesed cannot be mandated. - Yes, acts of chesed are part and parcel of daily living: visiting the sick, helping the orphan, and so on. But the strong, selfless actions of Ruth when she throws her lot in with Naomi and her people are explicitly not required of her when Naomi instructs her to return to her own family (so too Boaz's bounty, when there was another to redeem the family). The mystery of Ruth's commitment is intriguing; more importantly (since it's in the story), by going beyond what is required, she functions as a model for us who read her tale.

The notion that the holiday of the Law is commemorated with a story of one who utterly circumvents the obligatory to do more suggests the manner by which we may embody our fulfillment of that Law. Lest you think, however, that the implication is simple stringency with regard to the details of the laws - let me remind you that we already have Pesach for that.

Rather, Shavuot teaches that the Law imbues us with the intuitive sense - albeit an intuition acquired through study - of how to live beyond the letter of the law - in the white space.

Kazimir Malevich: Suprematist Compisition: White on White, 1918
(from here:  http://paulcorio.blogspot.com/2008/03/paintings-i-like-pt-16.html)One of my favorite abstract paintings, seen at the MOMA in December 1988,
in preparation for Anna Chave's Modern Art & Abstraction (better known as "Spots and Dots")

Quick: The Blink of an Eye or Ponderous Mulling?

I'm sure the honest answer for everyone is that some decisions are made lickety-split, as if without thinking, and others are weighted with intense deliberation.

But can you characterize which decisions fall under which category?

I'm not sure I can.

Sometimes, the heftiest, most difficult, "life-changing" decisions present themselves as a fait accompli before there's even time to consider pros and cons. Sometimes, the "quick" decisions take a long time, and pros and cons rear their heads in arenas usually less philosophical.

Where to live? Which job to take? Whom to marry? What to name a child?- all big decisions that may indeed require thinking and pondering and pros and cons...or maybe not.

What to do tonight? Which flight to take? What to have for dinner? Which shampoo to use? - all (fairly) small decisions that often enough (if you're me) take an inordinate amount of time, only to discover when all is said and done that the alternative was preferable after all.

I once furnished an apartment with the unexpected. That is, I went to the stores with specifics in mind, and discovered there that something else that wouldn't usually appeal "felt right." Time bore me out - those quick selections were among the best (in the context of the apartment). Which is not to say that making decisions quickly is inherently a good idea. Just that some quick decisions may well serve surprisingly well.

Alternatively, choosing something quickly may simply be a tool to help us know what we really want, when the pros and cons clamor equally. To wit, Phoebe's game (I'd like to embed the video, but for some reason, I can't, so find it here for much more fun than reading permits: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jwziXSeabd4):

Scene: Central Perk, Joey is reading a map as Phoebe enters.

Phoebe: Oh hey Joey! What’s up?

Joey: I can’t decide which route to take to Vegas. Hey, you’ve traveled a lot right?

Phoebe: Yeah, I’ve been around.

Joey: Okay, so-so which route should I take the northern route or the southern route?

Phoebe: Ooh, if you take the northern route there’s a man in Illinois with a beard of bees. {Okay, I must protest this, I’ve lived in Illinois all my life and know of no man with a beard of bees! Wisconsin, on the other hand, might be a different story.}

Joey: Great! Problem solved!

Phoebe: But on the southern route there’s a chicken that plays tic-tac-toe.

Joey: Well, back to square one.

Phoebe: Oh, I know a way that you can decide! All right, I’m going to ask you a series of questions and you answer as quickly as you can.

Joey: (quickly) Yes!

Phoebe: Good, but wait. Okay, all right, here we go. Now I want you to relax. Take a deep breath. Clear your mind. (Quickly) Which do you like better peanut butter or egg whites?

Joey: Peanut butter!

Phoebe: Which would you rather be a fireman or a swimmer?

Joey: A swimmer!

Phoebe: Who would you rather sleep with Monica or Rachel?

Joey: Monica. Oh… huh, I always thought it would be Rachel.

Phoebe: No thinking! No thinking! Tie or ascot?

Joey: Ascot!

Phoebe: North route or south route?

Joey: North route!

Phoebe: Bamn! There you go! Huh?

Joey: Wow! That was incredible! Beard of bees, here I come!

As it happens, I'm in the mood for quick decisions today...though nothing is at stake this very day....Maybe change is in the air...but as far as I can foresee, no big quick choices will be made today by me.

Take the Puppy to Work Day

One June day thirty-three years ago, a woman brought a black and white puppy with floppy ears and the requisite beseeching brown eyes to my mother's business. The puppy was one of a sizeable litter, and her new owner was supposed to pick her up from the office, presumably for convenience's sake.

The owner-to-be never showed. I know this because my mother drove home that warm, sunny day with said puppy sprawled in her lap.

To this day, I do not know what possessed my mom (who has never struck me, neither before nor since, as a random animal lover) to take the doglet home. Perhaps it was a wag of a tail or the cock of an ear...or a recognition of the fact that back then, my sister and I had hopes for a pet (I recall my sister wanting a horse, though). Maybe Mom will comment below and explain what captured her, what pushed her decision.  At the time, what I know is that we were simply beside ourselves with excitement.

Granted, soon thereafter, in addition to all that was wonderful about Freckles, she became a nuisance and pain in the neck. She shed. She ate not only my homework, but my entire Science folder. She pished on our beds. She barked through the night, and jumped on visitors (we figured she'd be friendly to burglars, however). She wrestled the mail from the mailman's hand as he dropped it through the slot (yes, the bills often had chunks torn out). She ate most of a lettuce souffle from its casserole dish, with her "elbows" perched on the dining room table and her nose in the food. Also half a carved roast beef. And she needed to be walked constantly.

Part Cocker Spaniel, part Wire-haired Terrier, Freckles was quick, and alert, and a hunter by nature. She brought us offerings of fish from the lake and birds from the...air? At least once, when we girls were ice skating for hours, Mom sent her outside to find us, skittering across the ice, ears perked, with a note attached to her collar via twist-tie, inviting us in for hot cocoa. Freckles was frisky and energetic and would race herself down the long hallway and turn around and race back. She'd play catch with herself when we pushed her away - and she'd catch the ball she'd tossed in the air. Of course, she'd also nose the ball over the landing of a split-level house and tumble down two sets of stairs to discover that gravity - always - beat her to the punch. But she'd pick up the ball, trot upstairs, and try again. She might have been insane for expecting different results the next time, but we always thought the "dumb dog" was pretty smart to engineer these games (and exercise) all by herself.

At the end of her life, she was sadly pathetic...losing the strength of her legs necessary to engage in her lively pursuits of choice. She dozed curled up in a comfy dog bed, perking up when the family was present. With the historical dog-walkers out of the house, my father carried her outside gently to do her business. And eventually, kidney disease brought her to her end. We cried.

All this was a long time ago...but yesterday, May 3, would have been Freckles' 33rd birthday, if dogs lived that long. Which brings me to consider the actions of my never-impulsive mother, when she chose to bring home that hapless puppy, changing the demographics and actions and responsibilities and perhaps even personalities of our family for 15 years.

With no digital images from then, I did a quick search to find a semblance....(hey, family, if you have any photos of Freckles converted to digital, send 'em along so I can post)

This dog is the product of a Cocker Spaniel and a Wire-haired Terrier, and reminds me of Freckles' alertness  (http://www.i5net.net/~treatmemorial/ )
But her coloring....

...was more like the dog above, right. Freckles had slightly floppier ears (http://www.kilkennyspca.ie/ ).

Blogiversary

It's hard to believe it's been a year (plus a day or two, I think) since I decided to create this blog. Among other  reasons mentioned here, I had a lot on my mind back then, and I figured that thinking and talking about decision-making would help me make some sound decisions. Besides which, as I've said so many times, our days are replete with choices, whether we acknowledge them or not. So I had plenty of fodder. Actually, I figured I'd take a year to talk myself out (and hoped I wouldn't run out of things to say). Well, for better and also for worst, I'm not finished. I'll let you know if I ever am. In the meantime, stay tuned for more...

For this image and more beautiful fireworks, see here:
 http://www.smashingmagazine.com/2009/12/30/stunning-fireworks-photos/  

PS: I'm not sure that fireworks are deserved, but it's a good standard for celebration (and the colors above are reminiscent of Israel's 64th, last week, so how can I complain?).

"I Could Never Do THAT"

It would seem that when you set your mind to it, you develop the ability to conquer your self. I think it's often a matter of priorities.

For example: long, long ago, the idea of contact lenses made me shudder. Well, not the little discs of plastic, but the idea of touching my eyeball. Then...high school. And vanity trumped my sense of revulsion. Lo and behold, touching my eyeball wasn't all that bad after all.

Diabetics prick themselves all the time...but do you really think you could give yourself shots if your health didn't depend on it?

How many parents find themselves cleaning up messes that they never sought? But the alternative (that is, NOT cleaning up those same messes) is untenable, and so people stretch themselves.

My grandfather only discovered the culinary arts after my grandmother broke her heel (the need to eat is a great motivating force).

More than one guy I know stopped smoking for the sake of a girl who wouldn't date any smoker. And one woman stopped smoking when a lung scan wasn't as clear as it should have been, because she feared not seeing her little girls grow up (thus, fear ironically conquers self for the positive).

I'm sure the Refuseniks in Soviet Russia and Rosa Parks and that guy in front of the tank in Tiananmen Square (anyone know his name?) and the rebels in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising never imagined they'd be called upon to become heroes. Yet they made history with their courage.

When the need is there, we pretty much do what we have to do. And it's often nowhere near as bad (disturbing, disgusting, distressful, etc.) as we fear (though sometimes, I guess, it's worse).

http://www.greatpicsgallery.com/images/pictures/free-mountain-climbing-and-10.jpg

For my money, I find that being able to make the decision helps; that is, taking on a challenge consciously and independently renders it more manageable than having it thrust upon you (or me) against your will. It's like tightening your stomach muscles against a punch - the punch may hurt, but you take it standing up.

What challenges have you conquered? Aren't you glad you did?

Letting Others Make You Crazy...

April has been a busy month...Lots going on, not the least of which is Pesach - the Jewish holiday of Passover. It so conveniently fit into my topic for today, though the impetus for it began nearly two weeks before (I've just been slacking instead of posting (ahem, busy with other things)).

The well-baby clinic told a petite woman that her fifth child (I think) wasn't growing. She looked at them, indicating her own stature as if to say, this is how we make them! They told her - but surely your husband is tall? (an illogical assumption if there ever was one - especially as short men are often married to short women). Point being? She did not let the nurses make her crazy. She knew her child was thriving and the lack of height was no cause whatsoever for alarm.

It helps to have perspective. Periodically, I wonder how she would have reacted if the stupid comment had been made with regard to her eldest, or even her second. Because when people say stupid things - even out of the best of intentions, of course (like the well-being of her baby) - it is hard to keep cool, even when you know the comment is foolish and against the truth of the situation.

I know it's hard to maintain that perspective, because the other day (well, April 1, if you must know) a doctor suggested that since my arms are short and I am quite petite myself, perhaps I am secretly harboring some dire "syndrome" that might have implications and ramifications unheard of heretofore. This, despite the fact that long arms would look silly on a short person. This, despite the fact that I am in proportion to myself. Most importantly, this, despite the genetic heritage of "vertical challenges." On both sides.

Distressed, I call a cousin who is my height. Her disgusted "what?!?" and pooh-poohing of the notion as "absurd" (she is largely able to keep things in perspective too) was heartening. I told the doctor that she was being ridiculous - insulting and incorrect (in nearly those words). After 6 minutes of talking to me (no physical exam), she had rendered a suggestion preposterous in light of all the other expert physicians I have seen over the years (she suggested that maybe none of them wanted to risk being insulting...which only highlights the absurdity of her suggestion, because I find it hard to imagine a responsible physician permitting any kind of serious health concern to be swept under the rug for fear of mentioning something that might insult a patient - even when it's hard for them (don't they have training in tact these days, anyway?).

[Okay, for the record, I will admit to a long hiatus where I saw as few doctors as I could manage - and that was very few indeed. Still, long ago, the pediatrician was on top of the fact that I was short (it's really hard to miss). So I arrived in the 99th percentile at a fairly young age (not immediately). And while I'm sure that for some, being short is indeed a handicap (I've been told as much by at least one person who is not short herself), for others, it's just the way things are. The 99th percentile does not inherently mean that something is wrong with you. At least not for me. I'm just sayin'. And I mean it, too.]

But I write now with an equanimity - dare I say perspective - that I did not attain for several days.

My father was appalled - I think - at my inquiry of whether there had ever been any hint or whiff of dwarfism on either side of his family. My mother reminded me that short people often marry short people (though my mother herself is not that short - at 5'3"+, she's got about 5 inches on me). And of course the great old cliche (she apologized) about the good things and the small packages.

Nonetheless, my poor petite cousin was forced to tolerate (thank you) my shrieking at the outrageous suggestion even as I worried about the What-If: what if the doctor had indeed discovered something everyone else had missed?

I let that doctor make me crazy.

I have no doubt whatsoever that she was wrong. I was able to make a strong case to her in person. But after I left, I let her concern (I trust that she meant well) malign what I know to be true.

In retrospect, and with the aid of Passover (and others' neurotic Pesach cleaning), I note that people may allow others to make them crazy. Or one may proceed on an even keel. I'm aiming for balance. I find it easily in cleaning for Passover. And I'm usually able to stave off the ludicrous in other areas. This time, I failed miserably. And it was really not better....Talk about bad choices...though it took the bad one to remind me of the good one: balance.

Quick: Pencil or pen?

 

Remember the expression "putting pen to paper"? Traditionally, it simply means to write something, anything, but the current usage requires specification - distinguishing the technical act of writing with a pen on paper from composing email, for example. Think I'm exaggerating? See the Free Dictionary's section on idioms.

Well, if you had your choice of implement in that technical act of writing on paper (or parchment or vellum, or whiteboard, for that matter,if you prefer)...what would you use?

 

Fountain pen?

Quill?

#2 pencil? 

Magic marker?

Highlighter?

Crayon? 

Rolling ink pen?

Ballpoint pen?

Chalk? (with appropriate chalkboard or sidewalk)

Charcoal? 

Sharpie? 

Would you choose a color? Which one? Or do you prefer black ink? Or blue? Or the comforting grey of graphite?

 

Do you like to glide smoothly over paper? Or the scritch-scratch of a sharpened pencil? What about the blotting of inky ink (on the side of your hand too, of course)? Or the smudgy shadows of charcoal?

 

I used to take notes with a blue medium ballpoint pen - and only a blue medium ballpoint pen. Now, I'm inclined to be more colorful, as I draw my own attention to different categories or subtle points using different inks. My handwriting, however, is not as clear with the steady line of liquid ink. Beyond the deterioration in fine-motor coordination for which I may blame the keyboard, the "fine-point" pen of 7mm is too fluid for my rapid penmanship, and the careful loops and spikes that form letters are blurred.

 

In The Art of the Handwritten Note: A Guide to Reclaiming Civilization, Margaret Shepherd argues well that a handwritten note highlights its message by the very virtue of the fact that it is handwritten. She claims that the handwritten note has been elevated to an art form, and it in turn upgrades a message because it is less common than email. Most importantly, she reminds her readers that "[i]nk on paper is still the classiest way to express the thoughts that really matter, on the occasions that really count" (p. xiv). I tend to agree, and will extend her "art form" to include the fun that crayons herald, the nuance of charcoal, the importance announced by magic markers, and the sheer elegance of calligraphy.

 

Then again, the art of the handwritten note is no longer in vogue. Handwriting is not what it once was, nor even what it became after that! (My grandmother writes with copybook elegant penmanship; in contrast, I was told that my scribble "...looks legible..."). There's little need for pen or pencil, except for scrawling down a grocery list (not even that, if you use your phone), or a quick love note on a post-it. As always, it's a choice. Choosing pen or pencil has definite advantages (personality, convenience, degrees of formal/casual). But for good old fashioned communication, these days the technical act of putting writing implement to paper loses well to the new, less dignified technology (with which I do indeed write here). 

So Much Unfairness of Things

(With apologies to C.D.B.Bryan, and his excellent short story, one of the most memorable from my own schooling, to the extent that I later foisted it upon a new generation of English students. For more, see his son's blog)

I began this blog at the impetus of a friend, but I had "something to write about" because I was in the throes of making a decision, and the process made me think about how people arrive at their decisions in such different ways...and how much "decision-making" permeates everything we do, always.

I emerged from those throes, and proceeded to conduct myself in accord with my decision. But choosing what we want to do is not (always) enough. Knowing what I wanted - and acting on it - did not bring me to the desired results. And that's the "so much unfairness." It's a shame when things don't turn out how we want...but when you grapple with pros and cons, and finally make conclusions and act on them...that's more than things not turning out as you want them to turn out. Of course, I learned long ago that life is not fair - probably everyone has confronted aspects of their lives turning out differently from what they'd hoped for. But it's not fair that it's not fair.

For all that I say this, I'm not actually morose. To some extent - sometimes, to a great extent - things are out of our hands. Mostly, I think, we all just continue along, even when things don't go our way - even when we work to have them go our way. Which means that there's always a new decision to make...in light of the new circumstances (in this case, that the last thing didn't work out). I'm not always a fan of having to make decisions, but I've always been a big fan of having decisions to make.

And honestly, I'm grateful that in the scheme of the world, my choices are challenging because they are mine to make, but rarely because they are actually - objectively - deep, dark challenges. Thankfully.

The Ides of March...and Adar

Mid-month seems to have significance, go figure.

Julius Caesar had good reason to beware this fifteenth day of March, but it always seemed a favorable time to me (albeit for no good reason that I can recall).

The fifteenth of the Hebrew month of Adar is Shushan Purim, the day that the holiday of Purim is celebrated in Jerusalem to commemorate a battle in the ancient city of Shushan that was not yet complete by the fourteenth (when the rest of the world was already celebrating).

 

What impresses me most about Purim in the context of this blog is the historic decision of Queen Esther to act against her individual interest for the sake of her communal interest.

A word of explanation for any readers unfamiliar with the story: a decree had been sent to the far reaches of King Ahasuerus' realm (from what is today's Ethiopia on the one side to India on the other) that the Jews of the kingdom were to be put to death on the fourteenth of Adar. Unbeknownst to the king, his queen hailed from the Jewish people. Esther's uncle prevailed upon her to request the king's mercy for her people. But she was wary of approaching the king when he hadn't summoned her; after all, her predecessor, Vashti, had been summarily dismissed (whether exiled or executed) for her refusal to appear before the court when the king called for her. The opposite defiance, to be sure, but Esther knew well that this was a king who required compliance.

The Swooning of Esther, Antoine Coypel, 1704
(only one of many artists' conceptions of Esther fainting before the king)

In response to her concern that initiating with the king might prove suicidal, Mordechai, the Jewish uncle, presented her opportunity to act in stark terms. He suggested that her presence on the throne was by divine design, to enable her to save the Jewish people with her daring. Or alternatively, the Jewish people would be saved by other means - in accordance with the divine will - in which case, Esther and her family's name would be lost to history - a less tangible (and therefore potentially less threatening) kind of suicide.

How rare! - For an individual's decision to carry (potentially) the fate of a people. It is not easy to envy Esther her life-and-death quandary, though we know it turned out well (she approached the king, names the culprit who decreed against her people, and the king rescinds the decree on behalf of his queen). After all, Esther did not know the end of her own story. And yet...

Rembrandt's Ahasuerus and Haman at the Feast of Esther
Note his famous use of light and dark to highlight the good and hide the bad.

How differently we all might act if we knew the ends of our own stories. How much would we have done differently thus far? How much would we do differently going forward? But we have no choice but to act in the moment, with our eyes to the future and a nod to the past. Which is why Esther's decision to act for the sake of the Jewish people, risking her own safety and well-being is impressive. In the absence of prophecy, being able to see beyond the moment is indeed enviable - even for decisions that are not as far-reaching as Esther's.

Note: Purim was celebrated a week ago, and Shushan Purim, in Jerusalem last Friday. It's a topsy-turvy day on the Jewish calendar, and I write about it in this untimely way rather than squander the opportunity, as the myriad lessons from last week carry forward.