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Category Archives: About Life in General
Race in America: The Courage of Rabbi Teitelbaum
The Ava DuVernay film, Selma, is such an excellent film with such fine acting that I felt transported back to the 1960’s while I watched it. The film centers around the Selma to Montgomery March for voting rights in 1965. Although this was an African American movement, many Jewish people were involved in the civil rights struggle. Not only were the horrors of the Holocaust still fresh, but most of us had grandparents and parents who had fled bigotry and oppression. We wanted to help end the same type of hateful acts in America, the Free.
I remember admiring the people who went to the South to march, putting their very lives at risk. My parents would never have let me go and I doubt that I had the courage to do it anyway. But, I do know someone who did have the courage to stand behind Dr. King and other leaders in the March: Rabbi David Teitelbaum. He is the brother and uncle of friends of mine.
Recently President Obama spoke about him in his remarks at the Adas Israel synagogue, on May 22:
“…I want to close with the story of one more of the many rabbis who came to Selma 50 years ago. A few days after David Teitelbaum arrived to join the protests, he and a colleague were thrown in jail.
And they spent a Friday night in custody, singing Adon Olam to the tune of “We Shall Overcome.” And that in and of itself is a profound statement of faith and hope. But what’s wonderful is, is that out of respect many of their fellow protestors began wearing what they called “freedom caps”– yarmulkes — as they marched. 
And the day after they were released from prison, Rabbi Teitelbaum watched Dr. King lead a prayer meeting before crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge.”
As we remember the struggles of years past, I hope we can remember the benefits of standing strong together for what is right and just. As we acknowledge the ills of today, I hope we also can stand together, a rainbow of colors and creeds, working to create a better America for all. For me, these aren’t just words—they are my intention.
P.S.
Just as I finished writing this, I got this news update from the New York Times:
“Seven years ago, in the gauzy afterglow of a stirring election night in Chicago, commentators dared ask whether the United States had finally begun to heal its divisions over race and atone for the original sin of slavery by electing its first black president. It has not. Not even close.
A new New York Times/CBS News poll reveals that nearly six in 10 Americans, including heavy majorities of both whites and blacks, think race relations are generally bad and that nearly four in 10 think the situation is getting worse. By comparison, two-thirds of Americans surveyed shortly after President Obama took office said they believed that race relations were generally good.”
This survey does not change my intention—it only makes it stronger. The bandaids are off so we can see the poison underneath. Let’s dig deep and make some real change.
Unconscious Racism: Let’s Move Forward
When Barack Obama was elected President I thought it was a signal that racism was dead. I thought so much had been accomplished but that’s because my rose colored glasses were firmly in place. It’s taken cell phones with cameras to uncover the truth about how Blacks are treated by police in this country. But it’s not only police brutality at play here. After several months, I’m beginning to understand that our societal core is racist.
Let me see if I can start to explain white privilege. It’s so integral in American society that we don’t even perceive it. It is not overt—I don’t think it is even conscious. Let’s begin with the color of our skin.
Natural Nude?
Last night I was on a website that sells clothing. I was looking at underwear. Because I’m writing about the years I taught at Meany and about race in our country, I’ve become more cognizant of what is “natural” in America. And here on the website was a fine example: I had only one choice of color for my sports bra: “natural nude”. It is a beige or light tan color. In other words, if your skin is not of that color, you are unnatural? In one sweep of the language, all people of color are excluded from the societal norm when buying this product.
This is only one way people of color are marginalized in our society, and you may say that it’s not that important. But the constant bombardment of such messages takes a toll. I can relate somewhat during the Christmas season. As a Jew, I am not part of the celebration. When the “National Christmas Tree” is lighted, I feel that even though my grandparents all immigrated to the United States over 100 years ago, perhaps I am not a real American.
The 88th Annual National Tree Lighting, sponsored by UL, stays safe and bright with over 750 lights and 500 ornaments on this year’s tree.
Jennifer Holladay, in her book, White Anti-Racism Activism, says: “White skin privilege is not something that white people necessarily do, create or enjoy on purpose….White people receive all kinds of perks as a function of their skin privilege.”
She then gives some examples.
“• When I cut my finger and go to my school or office’s first aid kit, the flesh-colored band-aid generally matches my skin tone.
- When I stay in a hotel, the complimentary shampoo generally works with the texture of my hair.
- When I run to the store to buy pantyhose at the last minute, the ‘nude’ color generally appears nude on my legs.
- When I buy hair care products in a grocery store or drug store, my shampoos and conditioners are in the aisle and section labeled ‘hair care’ and not in a separate section for ‘ethnic products.’
- I can purchase travel size bottles of my hair care products at most grocery or drug stores.”
Many years ago, I’d figured out that the pinkish beige color, FLESH, in the crayon box, was racially exclusive. Same for FLESH-COLORED bandages that were beige. I’d never thought about hair products before, although I’ve noticed the special section for people of color. (I’m always so focused on finding a product that will give me volume that I don’t have time to think of anything else in the hair aisle.)
Flesh-colored?
Once you become aware of this inaccurate color description, you begin to see it everywhere. In an article, “White Privlege: Flesh Colored” in The Society Pages, Lisa Wade gives more examples. One of the most ironic and outrageous is the description of First Lady Michelle Obama’s ball gown:
Flesh-colored? It didn’t match the flesh of the beautiful first lady!
As well meaning whites continue to awaken from our long sleep of oblivion, there are attempts to right this basic wrong. Here is an example:
When I taught middle school in the Eighties, I tried to raise the consciousness of my students. One exercise I learned in a Graduate School multi-cultures class was this: You are sitting on a park bench and an American walks past you. Describe the American. The descriptions written offered a fascinating look into the American psyche. Most of the “Americans” were white and male, sort of like all our Presidents until Barack Obama came along.
Normal skin? Is that what an American has?
The Big Fat Summer of Love: Dr. Traci Mann
This interview really resonated with me, a yoyo dieter from childhood. Growing up in an extremely critical and very loving family, I strove to live up to my parents’ and family’s expectations. I remember being about 12 and eating a piece of cheese, and my brother saying, “Cheese is very fattening.” He loved to tease me as all big brothers do, and I thought he was just giving me a bad time. But he showed me some proof. There began my illicit affair with cheese. To this day, guilt plagues me when I eat it.
Thanks for presenting the information in your interview with Dr. Mann. I try to tell people we are born being a mesomorph, ectomorph or endomorph, but now I have some ammunition that may make more of an impact. Dr. Mann said in your interview: “For years I have been studying the science of weight loss and obesity, and the evidence shows that weight is primarily genetically determined and the extent to which people can alter it is limited. Trying to live at a weight way below one’s genetic range is a recipe for misery and failure as it basically means living as if you are biologically starving. I think it is immoral to expect people to live this way for the sole purpose of achieving a weight that happens to be what our society considers attractive at this point in time.”
After years of dieting, newbies to the world of Body Acceptance, find it very hard to wrap around the much discussed concept that, “Diets Don’t Work.” Thanks to Dr. Traci Mann of The Health and Eating Lab, however, we have hard evidence to prove such rhetoric. Dr. Mann, a widely cited expert in her field, has done copious amount of research on dieting, eating, fatness and self control and has proven, time and again, that, indeed, diets don’t work.
Dr. Mann’s book, “Secrets from the Eating Lab: The Science of Weight Loss, the Myth of Willpower, and Why You Should Never Diet Again,” explains her findings in depth and offers a breath of fresh air to anyone who has been stuck on the hamster wheel of Body Hate for any length of time.
While the Body Acceptance Movement has a vast selection of wonderfully loud warriors who boisterously encourage…
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New Year Resolution Assessment
I thought that since half a year has gone by as well as my half birthday, I should assess how I’ve done on my resolutions from January. Here they are:
- Be happy with myself at my age.
- Stretch after my walk.
- Eat healthy.
- Think the thought that makes me feel good not the negative or fearful one.
- Don’t be the Grandiose Co-Dependent.
These are not what I remember. They are well and good, but in my mind I’d written:
- Write a blog twice a month.
- Work on the book.
- Do ten minutes or more of Rosetta Stone Spanish every day.
- Eat healthy.
- Stretch after my walk.
- Accept myself at my age.
- Take computer lessons.
It’s amazing what is and what we think is. Here I was supposed to be happy with myself and I was only trying to be accepting of the wrinkles, flab, and aches. Then I was feeling guilty if I didn’t write a blog every other week. As for the Rosetta Stone, a whole week could go by and I couldn’t seem to find even one ten minute segment to practicar Spanish. One good thing is that I’ve been working on my book lately with the help of an editor and mentor. It’s like a physical workout—I need a trainer or I’m not showing up. The same goes for writing my book—I now have Laura to keep me going.
To continue my analysis, I can count on the fingers of my right hand how many times I have stretched after my walk. That is sad because each time I do, my back, knee and foot feel so much better. Also when I go to my stretch class, I feel much better. Wait, can I count my stretch class? We even use the foam roller in there.
And how about Pilates? Does that count? Those two classes keep me moving and I appreciate the instructors so much.
I have tried harder to eat healthy but let’s face it, I will always drink Cokes and wine, and eat foods that do not enhance my body chemistry. Because, like the song says, “I’m Only Human”. And I love to eat. And I’m grateful I can. My sister-in-law’s brother gets his only nourishment through a food tube to his stomach. If that were me, and I didn’t love my children and grandchildren so much, I’d go the Kevorkian route.
I do think I made some headway on numbers 4 and 5 on the first list, without being conscious of it. I have caught myself a couple of times awfulizing or catastrophisizing and backed away from the dire thoughts. That is big for me. Last week I started going into a funk about how time is passing so quickly. My oldest grandchild is one year away from leaving home to go to college. How can it be? But, I caught myself in time and reminded myself to think thoughts that make me feel good. The melancholy dispersed much quicker. Finally, I am practicing to be less co-dependent. I’m not as sweet and compliant as I used to be. I still have trouble saying NO, but I have done it at least twice.
My plan is to combine the actual list with the one in my head for my goal setting for the second half of 2015. I’m primed for it anyway because I’ve already taken two computer lessons. Might as well continue.
Once Upon A Time: Linking Generations
Three of our grandchildren have had Heritage projects this year. It was great for us to talk with them about our parents and grandparents and our growing up years. I appreciate the schools for creating assignments like this that open lines of communication that might not have been there otherwise.
Quinn’s project was quite extensive necessitating emails with cousins and friends who are into genealogy. I even tapped into Ancestry.com. Quinn and I had gone through old pictures last summer and she’d scanned two hundred of them into the computer. (I paid her $11 an hour—minimum wage, right?) Ten of the photos were from a Family Tree project that Jennifer, our daughter, had done in high school way back when. I’d dismantled the Family Tree poster but kept the photos and information about each person.
from the 1980’s Family Tree project
Quinn’s project was centered around where her ancestors had immigrated from to America. Most of my grandparents came from Russia so that was the country she focused on.
Shtetl
I had to explain that because they were Jewish, some were forced to live in shtetls, Jewish towns away from cities. All my grandparents fled from religious persecution and made their ways to America.
Quinn’s great-great grandparents
The culmination of Quinn’s project was a Heritage Fair in March. The students put on an hour presentation about their different countries of origin. I was fer klempt, of course, through the whole thing. It was very touching.
Eli’s project involved interviewing me on Skype. He asked me ten or twelve questions about my parents, who are both deceased. One of the questions was: Describe your mother and then your father in three sentences. That was interesting and not easy.
My parents are on the left. My grandparents are in the middle. My uncle and aunt are on the right. This is in the Fifties.
Another question was: If you could tell your parents three things about now, what would you say. I said, “I’d tell them that they have fabulous great-grandchildren who they’d have loved to know, and that they’d be so proud of them. I’d tell them about some of the new inventions—that I’d just texted from an airplane over the Pacific Ocean. I’d tell them about us Skyping! I’d tell them there were problems in the world that they could never have imagined.” After I’d answer his question, Eli would comment and then we’d talk a bit. I doubt I’d ever have told him these things if he hadn’t had the assignment.
Last week our oldest grandson interviewed my husband. Garrett is taking US History and they’ve actually made it through the Fifties and into the Sixties. (My US History classes barely made it past the Industrial Revolution.) Garrett wanted to know what it was really like to grow up in the Fifties.
Cool guys in the Fifties.
Garrett also wanted to know if Daddo had served during the Vietnam War so Moe got to tell his Air Force Reserve stories—the ones that are funny and cool.
Moe in the Air Force National Guard.
As I said, it’s been wonderful sharing our experiences with the grandchildren. They seem to like hearing about them, too. Yesterday I took Quinn to lunch and during the conversation I ended up telling her about the time the Black Panthers set Meany on fire when I was teaching there. Her eyes got round with astonishment. I felt a little like Sally Field: Quinn liked my story—she really liked my story!!!
Classic Fifties pose.
I remember hearing that old people liked to reminisce. It’s true—I’m loving it. And loving the grandchildren for caring to listen!
Writing Do’s and Don’ts
Sometimes I can’t write in a linear fashion. Right now, I’m having scattered theme syndrome—I can’t settle to one topic or even one genre. I have a short story I’d love to write, two different blog ideas begging for expression, and I’m determined to finish the second chapter of my book. It’s been very uncomfortable. Now, I’m just giving up to it and writing a little here and there. I figure I can edit it all later.
Also, I’ve become used to writing directly on the computer, but I haven’t been able to do that either. Yesterday I took a tablet and a pencil to the beach and wrote long hand. Thank God, the words started flowing. I have no idea if what I wrote was worth keeping, but at least I got some words down on paper. It makes me wonder if a part of me is in resistance to the process…in resistance to actually writing the book. Is fear of failure promoting procrastination?
Do: Keep on keeping on. Keep on writing.
Don’t: Beat yourself up and/or allow writer’s block to settle in. Fight that devil.
The Autumn of My Years: Indian Summer
This morning when I was swinging a bag of trash into the garbage can, two of the landscape guys drove by in their truck. They waved at me enthusiastically and I waved back. I think of them like nephews and give them cookies quite often. When I look at them I see two Hawaiian guys in their thirties—hard workers, strong and conscientious.
As I walked back into the house, I started wondering what they saw when they looked at me. I’m not sure why I went off on this tangent, but once the thought entered my head, I couldn’t let it go. How did they see me? Did they see me, the person I am? Or did they just see an old woman? Which led to the age-old question: who the heck am I, anyway?
I must admit I’d fallen into the trap of believing everything on my driver’s license was true except the birthdate—which is the exact reverse of reality. First of all, the picture hasn’t been changed for at least ten years—no way I look like I’m in my fifties. Then, my height is off—it’s less than the 5’6” recorded. Meanwhile, my weight is more—the weight posted is what I weighed after losing 15 pounds when I had malaria.
I realized that there was a height issue when I began showing up as the shortest person in all the photos except for my two granddaughters. (Quinn, 12, is gaining on me fast but since Joeli is three, I think I have a little time there.) I guess I’d deluded myself that yoga and Pilates were keeping the space between my vertebra open, but I was beginning to wonder what was up. I mentioned it to my son who put me straight fast: “Mom, quit kidding yourself,” he said. “There’s no way you’re 5’6” anymore.”
Okay then—so could there be other things I’ve been kidding myself about? Although I feel like I’m 48, I’d already figured out that was impossible as that same son just turned 45. But on the days my knee or back or shoulder or ankle doesn’t hurt, I feel just the same as I did in the twentieth century. Maybe even better.
I am not the same, I know. I look at life differently in the autumn of my years. While it is still my Indian Summer, I believe one of my major jobs in life is to enjoy each day—enjoy it the way I want to enjoy it instead of doing a million things or doing what someone else enjoys. In middle age, I was a multi-tasker extraordinaire. I thrived on it or so I thought. Because in reality, I was always exhausted and at the end of my rope.
It really is much better now. I do less and enjoy it more. This aging phenomena has its rewards!
Genocide
Do you feel like the world has gone crazy—that it’s tilting out of control on its axis? The headlines in the news make me think I’m in the Twilight Zone and we have regressed a century or two. What happened to the progress we had made as civilized people? World War II was brutal, but hadn’t the world learned from this? It could never happen again, right? And what about the gains the Civil Rights Movement made? Were they so negligible? Didn’t we learn over the years that we were part of the same species, more alike than different no matter our race, country, religion or sexual orientation?
In the era when the Berlin Wall went down it seemed like global peace and freedom from tyranny for all were right around the corner. I remember that New Year’s Eve in 1989 when we believed all things possible. We never envisioned that could include the genocides in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Rwanda in the 1990’s.
As I began writing this blog, I wanted to know when the Rwanda Genocide had occurred. I googled it and was led to the page below. I don’t remember the history books of my youth including any of these acts of genocide. Reading about them made me feel sick, but I read each one. I encourage you to do so, as well. It puts perspective on the genocidal acts in the Middle East right now. ISIS is following in the bloody footprints of their predecessors.
Man’s capacity for inhumanity seems to be inexhaustible.
Below, copied from : http://www.historyplace.com/worldhistory/genocide/
The term ‘Genocide’ was coined by Polish writer and attorney, Raphael Lemkin, in 1941 by combining the Greek word ‘genos’ (race) with the Latin word ‘cide’ (killing). Genocide as defined by the United Nations in 1948 means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group, including: (a) killing members of the group (b) causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group (c) deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part (d) imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group (e) forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.
Recent to Past Occurrences
- Bosnia-Herzegovina: 1992-1995 – 200,000 Deaths
- Rwanda: 1994 – 800,000 Deaths
- Pol Pot in Cambodia: 1975-1979 – 2,000,000 Deaths
- Nazi Holocaust: 1938-1945 – 6,000,000 Deaths
- Rape of Nanking: 1937-1938 – 300,000 Deaths
- Stalin’s Forced Famine: 1932-1933 – 7,000,000 Deaths
- Armenians in Turkey: 1915-1918 – 1,500,000 Deaths
Que Pasa?
Most of us have had the frustrating experience of talking to an outsourced person whose English is shaky. Usually we’re calling because we need help with something and if the person can’t communicate with us, what’s the point? I’ve even hung up and tried again, but no one has ever hung up on me. Until last week.
I’m studying Spanish on Rosetta Stone and my screen froze on Unit 3. I tried everything I could think of to unfreeze it, but to no avail. So I called their SUPPORT line. After waiting for a while, a person from the Indian Ocean region answered. I told him my problem and he directed me to the screen.
“On the top right hand corner you will see a question mark. To the right of it will be an icon that looks like a wheel,” he said.
“The only thing to the right of the question mark is my name,” I said.
“No! Right next to the question mark is this icon I have described!” he said.
I’m the first to admit I’m not the swiftest with computer icon locations so I looked again and refreshed my screen.
“Nope, it’s not there,” I said.
“Yes, it is there,” my tech said, annoyed. “You are not looking correctly.”
“Okay, I’ll try again,” I said.
I did, and nothing. We repeated the exercise a few more times, with the tech getting more and more annoyed. Not getting anywhere and not enjoying being yelled at, I was about to hang up but he beat me to it. All of a sudden the only sound was the static of a disconnected phone connection! So much for being a SUPPORT group.
Posted in About Life in General
Tagged getting help, learning, outsourcing, Spanish, using the Internet
A Corner of My Mind 