Good old fashioned beat down.

I'm driving home in my neighborhood. It's a typical Seattle street where the streets are very narrow and if there are cars parked on both sides of the street only one car can pass which means someone has to pull over. People are usually polite about it and figure out how to give each other right of way.

So I'm in my car  two blocks from home I'm two thirds of the way down one of these narrow blocks and I can see a huge SUV come bombing down the hill, he rounds the corner onto the street I'm on and basically charges at me. He's not looking, he's not stopping and this forces me to pull over or he's going to hit me. Mind you, I have to back up to pull over into an empty space in front of a driveway.

Now I'm not proud of this next bit. My grandfather used to have a really bad temper when he drove and he'd constantly curse when he was driving. If he remembered there were kids in the car, he'd yell something like "get a horse." but often he would just curse a blue streak. My dad was much better he'd just make a horn sign with his fingers and almost jokingly give the guy what we'd call the horns; it was meant to be a kind of joking curse.

I guess my granpa rubbed off on me. I'm generally easy going, but if I feel like someone's breaking the rules or taking advantage of me when I'm driving I can curse. I've gotten a lot better about it, especially being diagnosed with high blood pressure it's something I've worked very hard to control for my health. My meditation also helps.

But this was pretty blatant, I was tired from work, it was my Friday and I just wanted to get home. This made me really really mad and I yelled "Fuck You." Ooops. It was only when he stomped on his breaks that I realized both our windows were open.

He stops, his window square with mine but two feet higher because he's a little man in a big truck. "What's your problem buddy?"

At this point I realize what I've done, I'm embarassed and sense a little danger here.  . I try to be very calm but firm. "You're driving really aggressively."

He looks at me, face red, veins popping on his forehead, he has a puffy mean face and he says "Hey bud. You're the one who cursed."

"Yeah, I did and I shouldn't have," I say flatly."But I had the right of way on this street and you forced me off the road."

"I LIVE here." he says, as though that gives him some right to drive like he's the king of the road.

When I say "me too". Something set's him off and his eyes turn to slits. He starts to make a big show of taking off his seat belt and says "When was the last time you got a gold old fashioned beat down?"

At this point there are 2 cars behind him, one behind me and an entire playground full of parents and kids a block away. Not to mention, that he's extremely overweight and doesn't look like he's ever had a fight.
The idea of two grown men pummeling each other over this is so absurd to me  I acutally laugh  and say  "Are you really going to beat me up in front of all these witnesses?"

He looks at me and makes a huge show of putting his seat belt back on, narrows his eyes and the dismissively  says."I haven't got time for you buddy. I haven't got time for you." and drives off.

Now granted I shouldn't have cursed.;it's still something I'm working on. But what possesses a grown man who presumably is responsible enough to live in a nice part of town and own a big expensive car to not only drive like an aggressive jerk but to think it's okay to solve a problem with threats and beat downs? I can honestly say I don't drive like that. I was taught defensive driving by a kindly older man named Mr Rowbottom. I gice way when need, I make eye contact and wave when road conditions are confusing, And I certainly have never threatened anyone with a "beat down" because they made me mad.

It's Easter Sunday and I'm Jewish

"It's Easter Sunday and I'm feeling kind of blueish. It's Easter Sunday and I'm Jewish."

Song Lyrics by Eric Guthertz circa 1980

A lot of things are strange for Jewish kids growing up. I  go back to the unplitically correct era when schools had "Christmas" and "Easter" breaks. And the Christmas pageant was usually filled with Christmas carols and the (usually drunk) gym teacher dressed as Santa. If we were lucky maybe there'd be one token chorus of Dreidle Dreidle Dreidle.

Not being able to hang out with friends a couple of days a week because I had to go to Hebrew School was another odd one. Friends would be at soccer or flag football and I'd be in the basement of a temple learning Hebrew so that I could read my Torah portion in a couple of years. I have vivid memories of Mr Kornfeld lecturing us about how we'd be better people for learning Hebrew and being Bar Mitzvahed instead of spending time outside playing. 

But Easter was always the weirdest and worst. For one thing to a Jewish kid the idea of a big rabbit bringing candy and toys to little kids was kind of nutty. We could almost deal with Santa, he was a human at least.  Even if he did somehow have magic properties at least he looked like someone's granpa. The most mystical character we had was Elijah and his only trick was that he drank a glass of wine at every house on Passover.  

But the Easter Bunny just seemed like a freak. Come on, a man sized rabbit hopping around with a basket full of freakishly colored eggs just seemed scary. How did he get into people's houses anyway? Did he come through some freakishly large man sized rabbit hole? He never talked either. He sort of had a serial killer vibe.

The holiday itself seemed odd too. The idea of giving up something for Lent and, in those days, only eating fish on Fridays was just bizarre. As a Jewish kid you don't have to give anything up, you just have to feel guilty about what you do have. 

And there's the whole resurrection thing. No disrespect intended but it just seems fantastical to a little kid. It's pretty hard to wrap a young head around. Okay, maybe so is an oil lamp that with only one day's worth of oil lasting eight days. The idea that The Last Supper was possibly a Passover Seder is also mind blowing to a young Jewish kid. 

But the social aspect was disconcerting too. Most of the year the topic of my Jewishness didn't really come up. It was a curiosity  and the eight nights of presents might have been a source of envy to other kids. But Easter was different. The Catholic Church only officially repudiated Jewish Deicide in the late 60's. So for many years I had to deal with other kids telling me that the Jews killed Christ. To be fair I was never literally called "Christ Killer." But it was a rare Easter when the topic of Jews killing Christ didn't come up.

Easter Sunday is still odd to me. To those who celebrate it's a religious and festive day with fancy hats, chocolate eggs and a delicious feast. To me it's another Sunday that I have to work. Maybe it's a little better because my job will be a little slower because everyone who uses our website will be celebrating. It's always a little isolating. While everyone else is having delcious cookies and baked goods I'm having a piece of matzo with peanut butter.

Don't get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for the holiday and people's beliefs, but for me I just hear the lyrics of my brother's song rolling around in my head. 

The Matzo Ball Curse

Okay, I'll admit it,I really didn't like Passover growing up. For a young kid it was kind of an ordeal. For starters there was the length of dinner. We'd have them at my grandfather's brother house, Uncle Leon. He was a nice guy and, as far as I knew, not particularly religious but this was his night to be "patriarch" and he would make sure that every one knew who was leading the service.

The part before the meal felt like it went on for hours, which it may well have. There are a lot of prayers over wine and food, and a lot of lengthy explanations of passover and sections to read and I'm sure he was using some really old book with stilted language. The other problem was that he gave my great grandfather Hymie a lot of the reading. But, as a an immigrant from Russia, he spoke fluent Yiddish and would read from his own Yiddish Haggadah(prayer book). And it wasn't fun Yiddish words like Meshuggah and Oy Vey. 

And the food which is never great was really bad. Leon's wife at the time, Annie, was a horrible cook. The stories of burnt birthday cakes were legendary. She would put out Gefilte Fish which is an already nasty fish loaf in some kind of Jelly. Usually people do something to spruce it up like adding veggies; Annie would plop it from the jar into a bowl, the jelly dripping over the sides of the bowl. Charrosets is an already thick combination of walnuts and various fruit it's supposed to represent mortar and hers did a good job of that.

And of course there was always the grownup drama that wouldn't make much sense. Leon and Annie were on their way to a very bitter divorce and as I look back I remember all of the sniping and sideways glances at each other. My mother would drink way to much Kosher wine and start arguing with everyone.

As I got older the Seder got smaller and my dad would lead it with just my mom and her immediate family(mother, sister, brother in-law) and us. My dad's Jewish experience was minimal, his mother celebrated Christmas and he spent about a month practicing for his Bar Mitzvah which he read in transliteration rather than taking the more traditional 3 years to learn Hebrew. But it was fun and quick. He'd pick his way through the Hagaddah, sometimes skipping parts accidentally. Everyone would laugh and have a good time(except my mother who still drank too much).

Somehow despite all those bad years Passover is one of the few holidays along with Yom Kippur and Hannukah that I observe. I always keep Pasover kosher(no leavening or flour). If I had my way I'd have a seder every year;I've tried to have a seder most years. But I'm convinced it's become cursed.  

I know, sounds nuts, but let me explain. We did manage to have one or two in the first house we owned. They were small but fun. But then came the string. We planned one  but my father in-law was in the final stages of a terminal lung disease. The next years Lisa's mom was fighting brain cancer and Lisa was back east helping out.

We layed off a few years but planned a big one a couple of years later. We even printed invitations, bought a new dishwasher, fixed a long broken oven and invited Lisa's mom to come out. The day before Passover Lisa's mom wanted tea and somehow a burner was left on, and some cleaning fluid got placed  on top and we had a massive kitchen fire and ended up selling that house and moving. We spent the week of passover in a hotel eating out every night. You'd be amazed at how hard it is to keep Passover Kosher eatign out every day; no tortillas, pizza, bread, soups with flour, pasta etc. 

Okay so here we are in 2014. Lisa's mom was diagnosed with another brain tumor but she was doing okay with Chemo. My mom had been pretty sick but was doing better; we were in a lull. We started planning another Seder. We were pretty excited and on the day we were going to send out an Evite....Lisa got the call that her mom was in bad shape; not talking or eating. Not able to get out of bed. So we threw Lisa on a plane and she'll be there for at least another few weeks.

As for me I managed to buy some Whole Foods Matzo Ball soup and I'll probably have some lamb chops. No Seder yet again. Maybe I'll read some Jewish Literature like Isaac Bashevis Singer or Sholem Alechem. Maybe my dog Harry will get a few matzo balls and read the 4 questions to me. 

Seders usually end with the phrase "Next year in Jerusalem". I'll settle for "Next year in my home."

Pook Through the Looking Glass

I didn't think much when Lisa left for New Hampshire. From what I heard Pook wasn't talking, or eating but it sounded like depression and exhaustion. But Lisa called early the next morning. They'd rushed Pook to the hospital with dehydration and what they said was the flu. Her condition was such that she wasn't talking, her eyes would flutter when asked a question and she could comprehend and answer questions after what Lisa said was several minutes.

So the day Lisa left I was doing my daily meditation which are MP3s on an app.  In this phase of my medidation the guide aks has us aks ourselves a question in the third person. As it happened this was a new sequence with a new question. You're meant to aks these in the third person. It helps you consider the question as though you're hearing it fresh and allow you to come up with emotions in a less intellectual way. So the question for this period was "If you knew that today was very last day, how would you feel?

How would I feel? I'd be said, pissed off, but maybe I'd also be calm. I'd be very worried about everyone I was leaving behind. I'd probably worry about my stupid job. Mostly I'd be pissed off.

But this set me off thinking about Pook. Here she was maybe on the brink. She's still relatively young with three adult kids, 3 grandkids, a daughter in-law, son-in law, sister and friends. What was she thinking? Could she think? Did she know what was going on? If she did know what was going on was this what had her so isolated? Was she so deeply lost in thought about her death that she couldn't bring herself to talk. Was she being tortured by thoughts of who she was and who she was leaving behind.Was she hiding from the world? Had she retreated into a dream world of happier days where she read would devour novels in  a day and make fantastic meals that would take days to prepare. 

"Okay. Concentrate again on your surroundings." I practically jumped off my couch when Andy, the guide came back. I usually get deep in these meditations but never this deep. Andy usually gives a little speech and homework at the end of these sessions. "So this question is going to make you feel many things; they're all okay." I quietly said "no shit" to msyelf. This was the first time that a meditation had acutally given me a feeling of dread. 

He went on" but what I want you to think about is change. The inevitability of change. As much as we want. Nothing stays the same. Look for  change in your daily life." with that I burst out laughing. I was thinking to myself  "what an understatement." Lisa was going to be gone, for who knows how long. Her mom could no longer take care of her own physical needs, at least for now. Both her brothers were indisposed I was about to be alone for maybe a month. Our dog was about to lose his running partner for awhile.

But mostly I though about Pook. She'd already gone through this hell once and beaten it. Beaten it soundly enough that the doctors declared her cancer free. But it that firs tumor deeply changed her in ways ovious and subtle. She was different, her thinking wasn't as clear, she was even more eccentric than before. Her hygiene wasn't as good, she didn't cook as well, she'd get lost in crowds. 

That's enough of a life change for most people. But now she was even more sick. The tumor had affected her brain even more deeply already; she was being irritable and mood before it was diagnosed. But now something even deeper was happening. Something so deep and internal that no one but her could even say what going on. Maybe even she couldn't say. 

For some reason I started thinking of Alice going on her journeys to Wonderland. A strange world that she was trapped in and could only escape after a long adventure. I hoped that whatever was brewing in Pook's mind was some great adventure of books and delicious food and not a prison of regrets and fears. 

We wait patiently for you to come back to tell us about your great adventures.

When life gives you lemons...

  "Well, Jane, it just goes to show you, it's always something—if it ain't one thing, it's another."

Gilda Radner as Rosanne Rosannadanna




Since I last wrote, my mom left the hospital and started slowly rehabbing;she's now able to get up two flights of stairs which is good.

My dog wasn't thrilled to see me after spending two weeks with our friend and her two year old getting treats and sleeping in the two year olds bed. On our first walk back he immediately ran up to a strange and pretended he didn't know me; he's gotten over it since then.

Lisa was back for a few weeks and Pook, her mom, was home, getting chemo every other week. We had a relatively quiet couple of weeks. But there's always a lion waiting in the grass. Lisa had planned to go back for a few more weeks to help take care of her mom while her aunt was away. But last Friday about 10 minutes after Lisa left for work I got a very upset call from Lisa that Pooks nurse had called and said that wouldn't get out of bed and had even made a mess in the bed and didn't want to be cleaned. Yikes!

Lisa tried to change her ticket but they wanted a bajillion in fees and it was going to end up costing twice as much as the original ticket so we played another round  of"how cheap is that ticket?" This involves me checking all my credit cards and airline miles to see if I can cobble together some rewards points.  This time around I didn't even come close. So I had to resort to my AARP-Expedia discount.Yes I said AARP, I'm not that old but it doesn't hurt to have the 5% discount.

So somehow we wound up at a restaurant called 13 Coins having a quick farewell dinner before going to the airport. The place is already a slight absurd location, looking like it's frozen in time in 1972 with big heavy booths, leather upholstered chairs and menus the size of phone books. It become surreal when we're both sitting there talking about how everything will be okay(but doubtin it will be) and who knows when we'll see each other again. It becomes really absurd when you realize that at least half the other people in the lounge are having very similiar conversations; if only those menus could talk.

Next Time - Pook Through The Looking Glass