Thursday, April 30, 2020

thursday nights in new york -- my man godfrey

As the pandemic continues unabated, I continue my weekly recommendation of a movie set in New York.

Tonight's offering: My Man Godfrey (1936)

During the great depression, a scatterbrained socialite takes a liking to a derelict she meets in a Hooverville, and hires him as her family's butler. I've said "hilarity ensues" many times in this blog. This time it really does.



national poetry month: "the butterfly"


On The Muppet Show, Rowlf presents an original poem. Touching, it is.

Wednesday, April 29, 2020

sharon the tat artist

Time to daddybrag.
Sharon has started taking commissions for her artwork. So far, she's been designing tattoos for members of her Overwatch team.

My understanding is that it started with a teammate seeing a drawing she made of an Overwatch logo. He had been planning to get an Overwatch tattoo and asked if he could use it as a tatoo.

Somehow it went from there. Another teammate ios really into Hammond, who's a character in Overwatch, and asked her to design a Hammond tattoo for him. She started with a few concepts showing different aspects to Hammond's nature. The one's shown in this post represent her closing in on what he wants. In addition, his mother is a domestic abuse survivor and wants a tattoo based around the "True love shouldn't hurt" slogan. Sharon's been working on concept drawings for that.

In all cases, I apologize for the low-res nature of the images I am including with this post.

In fairness, I'm not really pro-tattoo. I would be unhappy about it if any of my kids were to get tattoos -- though I acknowledge that, once they're 18 it's their decision. And, on that note, if her teammate and his mother want tattoos that's their business. And if Sharon's art is good enough that they want it permanently inked into their skin, then I can't help but being proud.


happy zmedsday!! (lxx)


national poetry month: "my friend"


When Shirley (of Laverne and Shirley fame) gets new beatnik friends, Laverne is jealous. Her poem doesn't impress the hippies, but Shirley is touched.

Tuesday, April 28, 2020

tunesday -- coronavirus edition ("dear abby" by john prine)


I remember when I first heard of John Prine. I was a graduate student on a mad sushi run to Ypsilanti with someone I knew back then. She told me all about "this amazing singer." For some reason, his song "Dear Abby" is what appealed to me the most. There was a certain unpretentious honesty to his songs that made his records a treat.

John Prine passed away earlier this month from COVID-19. RIP

national poetry month: "domesticity unblemished"


On Spongebob Squarepants, Gary the snail performs at a talent show. Sandy is smitten.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Monday, April 27, 2020

national poetry month: "shelly's spell"


On South Park, Shelly hates everyone. And she declares as much as she brews up a batch of poison.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

game over, man!

Does anyone else's company do this?

In order to encourage employees to be healthy, my company has signed onto a wellness program. We can get points for logging a variety of activities -- some active like walking or exercising, others more passive like reading or spending quality time with a pet. It included challenges, webinars, and all sorts of other ways to earn points. The points can be exchanged for gift cards -- each employee can get up to $300 worth, and we have until November 30 to do it.

My friends at work are varied in their approach to it. Some aren't bothering at all. Others are doing the various things to get points, but taking a leisurely approach since they have plenty of time. One friend isn't paying much attention, but he has some electronic tracker hooked up so he gets credit for steps taken.

Me? I turned it into a game and a challenge to get to the full $300 worth of points as quickly as I could. That meant a morning ritual to grab the daily points available, some extra activities every Sunday (for the weekly points), attending webinars, and more. There's a list online of things to do for points. And I really got into it, too. I created a spreadsheet to track what I did, with lookup tables to show the points. It graphed my progress -- as well as the decrease in points needed per day to reach the goal by the end of November. I even shared one day's graph on Facebook (and received constructive feedback from a colleague who -- I assume -- didn't know what it was I was graphing).

And, yesterday, I reached the goal. Once my points are processed, I'll get my $300 -- which I'll take in Amazon gift cards.

And, strangely, I miss it. Today was the first day that I didn't get up and say "I have to log in to the wellness portal and check my cards, and do a journey step and a ;whil' session." I asked the woman at work who administers the system. I can still earn extra points, but there's no financial incentive. I even asked if I could transfer extra points to a friend. No dice. It's gonna be a long summer...

national poetry month: "the ship that wasn't"


On Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Worf is goaded into pretending that he wrote a poem.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

national poetry month: "scourge of the diaper"


On Family Guy, Stewie performs his poetry for an adoring audience.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Friday, April 24, 2020

the assignment not taken

UPDATE: I added an explanation of what a "kiruv organization" is.

Before I begin, let me acknowledge that I can be stupid.

This post is in response to a question a friend asked on Twitter. In a conversation on that platform I twote that I could have been at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame's first induction ceremony -- but that I turned it down. He asked how that happened. The story is too long to put on Twitter so here it is.


Back in 1986 I was in college. I was majoring in math -- hoping to become either a professor or an actuary.* I was also working at a college newspaper and doing some freelance writing, hoping to -- well, honestly, I'm not sure what I was hoping for in the writing arena.** I had developed a couple contacts at Tower Records' Pulse!, which was a monthly publication distributed at Tower Records' outlets. I had done a couple articles for them -- nothing earth-shattering.

I was surprised when I heard from a publicist -- I don't recall who the publicist was representing -- about how I was going to be covering the first induction ceremony for Pulse! That was news to me. I hadn't tried to get such an assignment, and no one at Pulse! had mentioned it to me. And it was getting close to the event. I assume that Pulse! had someone else covering the event until something fell through and they needed a replacement. I was a more-or-less known quantity, I was located in New York, and I had a pulse.

As a young music fan who was getting into rock journalism, but was still a nobody in that world,*** I should have been thrilled. Opportunity wasn't just knocking; it was kicking the door in.

But there was a problem. I had already paid for a weekend Shabbaton sponsored by The Center for Return. The Center was a kiruv organization at my college. I think it was Lubavitch-run, but it certainly had Hassidic influence. For those not familiar, a kiruv organization is one that reaches out to nonreligious Jews and tries to influence them to be more religious. Or even to get them to perform one religious act. I had become friendly with the Rabbi there -- part of the years-long adventure I had in sorting out my ambivalence about religion.**** I couldn't go to the induction ceremony and the religious event. I had to choose.

I chose poorly.

When I first told Blair about it, she was shocked. What had I been thinking? I still don't know. But more than that, she is amazed that no one in my world told me that I should choose the induction ceremony.

Stoopid...stoopid...stoopid.

*spoiler alert: I am, in fact, a professor or an actuary.
**spoiler alert: I'm still not sure what I'm hoping for.
***spoiler alert: I'm still a nobody in that world. Probably more so than I was then.
****spoiler alert: I'm not a very religious person.

national poetry month: "warning of an end"


From a Halloween episode of Star Trek.

Investigating the death of a crewman, Kirk, Spock and McCoy encounter three spectres trying to warn them away.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Thursday, April 23, 2020

thursday nights in new york -- rumble in the bronx


As the pandemic continues unabated, I continue my weekly recommendation of a movie set in New York.

Tonight's offering: Rumble in the Bronx (1995)

A young cop from Hong Kong travels to New York for his uncle's wedding. There, he finds himself embroiled in battles with criminals of all kinds.

I'm not sure if I should count this as a New York movie. It is nominally set in the Bronx, but other than the name and branding, there's really nothing New York about it. Heck, in several scenes you can see the Rocky Mountains in the background.* But it's a fun romp -- part comedy, part action-adventure and part kung fu film.

This was the movie that first gave Jackie Chan a foothold in the US But if I remember correctly, he didn't become a megastar until a few years later with Rush Hour.

This is worth the price of admission just for the hovercraft scene.

*Tip for any non-New Yorker who has stumbled upon this: You can't see the Rockies from New York City.

national poetry month: "forever damp"


The crew of Night Court are schmoozing, and Bull reveals that he's a bit of a poet. Judge Stone reads one of his works, and Mac has trouble taking it seriously.

UPDATE: Note that that's Ellen Foley who famously asked Meat Loaf if he would lover her forever. And dig the slant-end R-40 subway cars in the show's intro.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

tunesday -- coronavirus edition ("do you think of me (now and again)")


Wreckless Eric, one of my favorite musicians, has COVID-19. You can read about it on his blog, here.

I've been a fan of Eric's since I was in high school, and bought a copy of The Whole Wide World, which was an American compilation. His best known song was "(I'd Go the) Whole Wide World," but it was "Take the Cash" that really got into my brain. I've followed his career since then, and I still enjoy the music he's doing today.

This is a song that, if I'm gonna talk myself up, I'll simply say I cowrote with him. But there's a longer story than that. I initially wrote it and ran it by a friend, Scott Milner. If I recall correctly, I had two ideas for a second verse, and wasn't sure which would work better. Noting that the song was on the short side, he suggested making each verse twice as long. He wrote a second half for the first verse, and suggested I concatenate the two second verses I had written. At that point I had a song that Scott and I had co-written.

A few years after that, Wreckless Eric and Amy Rigby were using Kickstarter to raise funds for A Working Museum, the album they were putting together*. For the appropriate support level, you could spend a day in the studio with Eric and Amy recording a song of your choice. I signed right up. Amy and Eric were targetting that reward at bands or singers who want studio recordings of themselves. I'm not a band or much of a singer. But I like to delude myself into thinking I'm a songwriter. So I read their pitch as meaning that they would record themselves performing whatever song you wanted them to -- and you could be in the studio with them.

Oops.

When I spoke to Eric about it, and the misunderstanding became clear, he could have easily backed out of the deal. But, ever-graceful, he was willing to go along with what I thought was the deal. I sent him a lyric sheet and a recording of Scott singing the song. Eric and Amy did a bit of wordsmithing, improving the lyrics in the process and rewrote the melody for the bridge.  It was enough of a rewrite that we all agreed they should get co-authoring credit -- and a share of royalties if there's ever money to be made from this song, which to date there hasn't.**

But, while the song -- technically -- has four authors, I think of it as mine. It was my idea, and the lyrics and melody are mostly mine. I have to admit that Eric's and Amy's arrangement is inspired.

So that's how I came to cowrite a song with one of my musical idols.***

And, Eric, if you're reading this -- and I know you're not, but if you are -- please take care of yourself and get better. The world is a better place for your existence.


*spoiler alert: It's a great album. If you don't have it, you should buy it. If you do have it, you should buy another and donate it to a musically-deprived child in your community.
**If you're a record company executive, please feel free to suggest all your top bands record a version of this song for their next albums. 
***If you're one of my musical idols, please feel free to coauthor a song with me. I have plenty of partially-written material to choose from...

national poetry month: "from whence, fred"


On Courage the Cowardly Dog, Muriel and Eustace have a creepy houseguest. I never understood this show, so that's all I can say about Freaky Fred's poetry.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Monday, April 20, 2020

national poetry month: "hooked on love"


On The Orville, Dann and Alara are meeting for their first date. Dann wrote a poem, but Alara finds it less than inspiring.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Sunday, April 19, 2020

national poetry month: "to whom it concerns"


On Roseanne, Darlene is forced to write a poem for school. It starts out comical, but as it progresses, she really opens up and shows her vulnerable side. Honestly, I have focused on humor in this half-month-long tribute. But this is a really good serious bit.

Saturday, April 18, 2020

national poetry month: "a visit from st. bundy"


Once again, Christmas sucks for Al Bundy, the patriarch in Married...With Children. But he has a captive audience for his variation on a seasonal classic.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Friday, April 17, 2020

floral fridays -- creeping phlox and grape hyacinth (with daylily fans)

It's mid-April. The crocuses are done. The daffodils are fading. The irises and daylilies aren't ready to bloom yet, but both are giving us some nice foliage so we're optimistic.

For now, we have some grape hyacinth and creeping phlox. The former is a bit past its peak and the latter is approaching its peak.

When I was a kid I loved hyacinths. There was something about that big bulb of little blooms that attracted me. Now I'm not so enamored of them (though I can still appreciate them). But the grape hyacinths are really cool, especially if you plant them with something else to act as a complement.

national poetry month: "idyl"


Elaine, one of the cabbies in Taxi, is getting love poem from a secret admirer. When she confesses that it's getting her hot, Louie sees an opportunity to win her affection. Extra points for the full body performance.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Thursday, April 16, 2020

thursday nights in new york -- death wish

As the pandemic continues unabated, I continue my weekly recommendation of a movie set in New York.

Tonight's offering: Death Wish (1974)

After Paul Kersey's wife is killed and his daughter is raped, he decides to become a one-man vigilante squad.

I've heard it said that a conservative is a liberal who got mugged. And that is appropriate for the main character in this action movie set in New York of the 1970's when things were spinning out of control. Though the movie spawned a series of increasingly-silly sequels (and at least one remake which I refuse to acknowledge*), this is the one to watch.

As an aside, I note that ten years later New York experienced the case of Bernhard Goetz. Like the fictional Paul Kersey, Goetz went into the subway making himself appear vulnerable in order to tempt would be thieves. His shooting of four men became a high profile case. Goetz was often compared to Kersey.

*Oops. Does that count as acknowledgement?

national poetry month: "in lieu of donuts"


Today's celebration of National Poetry Month takes us to a beatnik club in Milwaukee during the 1950's. In Happy Days, Richie has befriended a beatnik, and goes to her hangout to help her.

Please note: This poem is not given a title in the show, so I made one up. Sue me.

Wednesday, April 15, 2020

the good, the bad and the numerate

I just noticed something in "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly." It's in this (poor quality) video.



Please recall the part after Blondie and Angel Eyes leave the prison camp. They're camped for the night and Blondie wakes suddenly, shooting someone in the bushes. He has Angel Eyes call his associates out of hiding. Blondie then counts off his adversaries -- slowly listing the numbers from one to six. He then notes that six is a perfect number. In the context of the story, he is referring to the fact that his gun holds six bullets.

But I have to wonder, since "perfect number" has a very specific meaning within the world of mathematics, and six is, in fact, a perfect number. Were there people involved with the making of this film who knew that bit of mathematics and threw it in as a little joke? Or is it a total coincidence?


happy zmedsday!! (lxiii)


national poetry month: "ode to spot"


Continuing to celebrate National Poetry Month with an entry from the world of science fiction...

Data was one of the annoying characters on Star Trek: The Next Generation.* An android, he was always yearning to be more human. To that end, he took up various artistic projects. Here, he presents a poem he wrote for his cat, Spot. I think it's iambic pentameter, but I wasn't an English major, so I could be wrong. Either way, it lacks soul. Which I guess was the point.

*Yes, "one of." Other annoying characters include Riker, Picard, Troi, Dr. Crusher, Wesley, LaForge, Dr. Pulaski.

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

national poetry month: "another christmas of agony"


Today, Blair reminded me that April is National Poetry Month. In honor of the occasion, I want to post poems from TV shows. One per day for the entire month of April. Oops! Too late. But I can start now and finish the month. Like counting the Omer, I just won't say a brakha.

My favorite TV poem is from an early episode of Cheers. Diane's friend (played by Julia Duffy) is having problems in the romance department. Even her favorite poem can't cheer her up.

Happy National Poetry Month

tunesday -- coronavirus edition ("prop me up beside the jukebox (if i die)" by joe diffie)


I first got interested in country music in the 1980s, but I remember especially the 90's when modern Nashville experienced something of a resurgence. And one of the big names from that time was Joe Diffie. He had a string of catchy hits that I loved. I don't think "Prop Me Up..." was his biggest hit. But it was one of the big hits from the first album of his that I owned. On minidisc, FWIW. And it was my favorite of his songs.

Joe Diffie, RIP.

Saturday, April 11, 2020

baseball's plan to cause me angst

According to an article in USA Today, Major League Baseball is considering having an abbreviated season using a modified league and division alignment. This isn't the place to go into great detail, but at a high level:
  • Teams would play their home games at their spring training sites, which are all in Arizona and Florida.
  • The MLB would be split into two leagues, based on spring training sites and nomenclature. That actually works nicely, since Florida and Arizona each hosts fifteen teams.
  • Each of these leagues would be split into three divisions.
  • The leagues would play an abbreviated schedule, with the champions facing off in a world series in November.
  • All games would be played without a live audience.
I'm not going to pretend to have a clue as to whether the plan is feasible or makes economic sense. I don't know any of the details of the television contracts or player contracts, so I don't know who is out how much money if the season doesn't happen, or whose losses are mitigated if an abbreviated season occurs. Clearly, though, money is a major motivator. Relatedly, MLB wants to stay relevant. I also have to wonder about the health issues. Even without a crowd in the stands I don't see how they can play a baseball game while social distancing. But all that's for them to figure out.

I don't really care much as a fan. I don't follow baseball. I used to. But I stopped when they had the strike in 1994. Except for the various stoopidstats I like to look at at the end of the season.

My concern is how this affects my stoopidstats. As an ongoing stoopidstats project, I keep track of the cumulative wins and losses of all franchises in major league history. I also like to group them by nickname, location, and state (or state-like entity*). After the 2019 season, I updated the statistics and blogged about it here. If MLB goes ahead with its plan, I will have some decisions to make. For the sake of this discussion, I'll reference the Phillies, though it applies to 27** of the 30 teams.

According to the plan, the Phillies would be playing their home games in Clearwater, Florida. For grouping wins by franchise, by nickname or location there's no issue. I take location as indicated in the team's name. They are the "Philadelphia Phillies," so their location is indicated as Philadelphia. For the record, the Brooklyn Dodgers are included as "Brooklyn" rather than "New York."

But what about state or state-like entity? Should that be informed by what state the team, plays in? Or what state the location indicated by their name is located in. In the case of the Phillies, would their wins be credited to Florida (since they'd be playing their home games in Florida) or Pennsylvania because they are still called the "Philadelphia Phillies" and Philadelphia is in Pennsylvania?

This is actually related to an issue I have thought about without coming to a conclusion. Look at Football. The New York Giants and New York Jets play their home games in New Jersey, even though their name indicates a city in New York State. If the Yankees (or Mets were to move to New Jersey but retain the "New York" in their name, would I start crediting their wins to New Jersey or New York?

And let's not even think about what to do if the Boston Red Sox start following the example of football's Patriots and start calling themselves "New England."

*The state-like entities are states, Canadian provinces and the District of Columbia. To date, there have been MLB franchises in 25 states, two provinces and DC.
**The issue, as described, is not a concern with respect to the three teams that already play their home games in ARizona and Florida.

Friday, April 10, 2020

floral friday - creeping phlox

To a lot of people, creeping phlox isn't particularly impressive. It's a low-lying ground cover that spends most of the season in its post-bloom green stage.

But I like it. When it's in bloom, there's something really special about the sight of the blues, pinks, whites and purples. And it's great for preventing soil erosion on hills. I especially like the way we have places in our yard where it kind of pillows out between rocks. In one particular spot (not pictured here) it encroaches on the sidewalk, reminding me of slow flowing lava.

Thursday, April 9, 2020

thursday nights in new york -- the warriors


Continuing the theme of saluting movies set in America's pendemicular epicenter...

Tonight's offering: The Warriors (1979)

Attending a summit of the city's gangs, the Warriors are framed for murder. Now they have to make their way from the Bronx back to Coney Island with every other gang (not to mention the police) gunning for them.

There's a certain silliness to this film, what with all the themes. There's a gang of mimes, a gang on roller skates, a gang who wear baseball uniforms and use bats as their weapons. But it's also thrilling and suspenseful. In a goofy sort of way.


Tuesday, April 7, 2020

life during strangetime

The contrasts of life right now feel like an insane collision joy and pain. Living in gratitude and love with my husband has been rejuvenating to my soul and spirit, as well as healing to my body. At the same time, the hourly obituaries of loved ones is devastating beyond belief, creating an emotional wave of debilitating weakness. Balance is impossible to attain, and the rollercoaster ride of current daily life is fucking exhausting.
And somehow, we carry on. We must. Sending love and healing prayers to anyone kind enough to read these words. We will find the energy to smile and laugh tomorrow. Again, we must.
-- Larry Flick

Living in New York, the American epicenter of the Coronavirus epidemic, I find that the strangest thing is the split personality of the emergency.

In some ways there's a real sense of urgency. I know a lot of people who contracted COVID-19, and a few who have died from it. I know some people, including family, who are immunocompromised and I particularly worry about them. If I think about it too much, I get numb and need to joke to distract myself. We avoid going anywhere, though there are occasional trips -- mostly to the supermarket or the drugstore. And when we do go out, we're sure to have masks and gloves. I have heard that Elmhurst Hospital has been overwhelmed. And I have heard stories of the city buying large numbers of body bags, of potential shortages of ventilators, and of medical personnel having to decide who gets life saving care and who doesn't. These stories are anecdotal, so it's unclear what's really going on. And that is scary. Any time I cough, I grab for a bottle of essential oil or bleach or something, anything, with a strong scent to reassure myself that I still have my sense of smell.

On the other hand, there are some ways that things seem oddly casual. Since we live in a relatively suburban part of New York, I can look out the window and things look normal. Blair was in our yard the other day and saw a neighbor washing his car. His kids were with him and they were all having fun. He told her (yes, they were at a respectable distance) that he tested positive and he's in quarantine. But it's not a big deal. Lots of folks in the neighborhood have it, he told her.

Somewhere between the extremes of hair-raising panic and shoulder-shrugging casualness is the reality of our occasional trips out. We need groceries, and so we go to the Supermarket. Sometimes we need some individual item, and go to the drug store or even a bakery. Sharon and I used to go out to breakfast every Saturday for some much-needed father-daughter bonding. We can't eat at restaurants anymore, but we can get take-out and then sit at home watching a movie on Netflix. And on these trips we make sure to wear masks and gloves when we leave the car, and it feels as if we're in a zombie movie, trying to keep a reasonable distance from strangers, and always being on the lookout -- though I'm not sure exactly what we're looking out for. We sometimes have to wait in line before entering a store because they are limiting the number of customers that can be inside at once. And on line for the cashier we have to stay away from the people in front of us in line. Far enough away that it would look comical in normal times. Still and all, Sharon and I manage to have our weekly breakfast together. And we can mostly get whatever groceries we want. And we can get our cat the medicine he needs. And I had no trouble (OK, a little trouble) getting a black and white cookie for Frank Gorshin's birthday. All of those things are luxuries that many people in the world don't have even in the best of times.

Until last summer I worked at home part time. It was a luxury. I did it for ten years before my company decided that too much collaboration and camaraderie was lost when too many people work from home on a regular basis. As of last summer we ended the work-from-home arrangements and all came back to the office. So now we're back at home. All of us. Full time. Until further notice. But this isn't a luxury. This feels like exile. Still, I have to remember that I'm fortunate. I know many people who can't work from home. Some of them are deemed essential and need to go to work and face the public. Others have lost employment. And I have friends who rely on gigs. They get paid for public speaking -- a market which has dried up. So, for now I'm fortunate that my paycheck hasn't been affected. Yet. There are no guarantees that that will last.

And when the home feels like a prison, I have to remember that the cage is gilded. I am sitting here on a computer writing a blogpost as a recreational activity. I can watch videos. I can listen to music. I can read books and do puzzles. I can go out in my garden and enjoy the flowers that are coming up. And I am sharing this prison with my wife and children -- the most important people in my life. And, as far as we can tell, we're still all healthy.

Knock on wood, and stay safe and well.

tunesday -- coronavirus edition ("that thing you do!" by the wonders)


This is sort of a break from songs about diseases, but it's still covid-19 related. Adam Schlesinger who wrote "That Thing You Do!" for the 1996 movie of the same name, died less than a week ago of COVID-19 related complications.

I'll admit that I'm not really familiar with the breadth of Schlesinger's music. I was never much of a fan of Fountains of Wayne or the other bands he formed. But I am aware of one specific contribution he made to the world of music. "That Thing You Do!" is a perfect little pop song.

The amazing thing about "TTYD!" is that it had to be a hit. Schlesinger's assignment: Write something that sounds like a pop song from thirty years ago. And it has to sound like it could have been a hit. But more than that, it has to sound like the kind of hit that can bring a band from obscurity to national prominence. And that's what he delivered. I remember watching the movie on cable at a family friend's house. When the song came on and I gushed over it, the friend said that she remembers it from when it was a hit in the '60s. That's how good a job Schlesinger did with it.

Adam Schlesinger, RIP.

Sunday, April 5, 2020

eight years time served

Recently, a Facebook friend asked me about my elementary school. "What was it like" were the exact words. WIth no context, that would seem pretty open-ended. But she was asking because it had come up that I went to a yeshiva day school. Specifically, an Orthodox yeshiva day school. So my interlocutor's interest was presumably in how it differed from public schools.

Certainly there are different types of yeshivas, and I can't as easily speak to those with which I had no experience. The ones I went to are what one might call "Modern Orthodox," though even that is not a well-defined term. At any rate, the two yeshivas I attended were Yeshiva Dov Revel (for grades one through four) and The Yeshiva of Central Queens (for grades five through eight). The two are somewhat similar, so I generally won't make an effort to distinguish between them.

At these schools, the day is split between "Hebrew" and "English." I put the languages in quotes because the former really means "all religious subjects" and the latter really means "all secular subjects." Typically, the morning would be devoted to Hebrew and the afternoon devoted to English -- though I recall one specific time when it was reversed. In the early grades each class had one Hebrew teacher and one English teacher, and they stayed in the same classroom. In later grades (seven and eight, IIRC, but I could be wrong) there was more specialization, and classes moved around for different subjects. In the later grades there was also optional religious classes on Thursday nights and Sunday mornings.

It may seem obvious to note that, with only half a day devoted to the secular subjects, students weren't getting as much time for them as their public school counterparts. To some extent that is true, though our school days were longer in order to partially offset the difference. We started earlier than the public schools and ended later. Except for on Fridays. Fridays were abbreviated because we had to get home in time to prepare for the Sabbath. This was especially true during the winter, when sundown (and therefore the Sabbath) arrived early in the day.

But aside from the Hebrew half of the day, religion still informed the English half. My sixth grade class put on a production of Oliver! for our play. And I remember that we had to change a couple of lines from "Food, Glorious Food," which is the opening number. The song's references to "hot sausage and mustard" and "peas, pudding and saveloys" were replaced with "hamburgers and mustard" and "peas, pudding and sauerkraut." We were not to even sing about nonkosher foods.

And, speaking of food, I don't remember ever having a spelling bee. But I remember brakhah bees. A brakhah is a blessing -- in this context, a blessing said before eating food. There are five basic brakhot to be said before eating, with the precise brakhah determined by the food(s) being eaten. In a spelling bee, the contestant is given a word and has to spell it. In a brakhah bee, the contestant is given a food and has to identify the prayer said before eating it:
Judge: bananas
Contestant 1: ha'adamah
Judge: egg salad
Contestant 2: sh'hacol
etc..
In this mix, I was kind of an odd man out. It was assumed that we were all living in orthodox households, but I wasn't. In orthodox households, kids had already gotten some exposure to the Hebrew language before they started first grade. They were used to Orthodox prayer services. And they had parents who were familiar with the Hebrew topics and could help them with the religious homework. My parents didn't come from Orthodox backgrounds, and had minimal knowledge of Hebrew. In fact, they sent my sister and me to yeshiva because they wanted us to have the religious education that they hadn't gotten. But that put us behind the eight ball. My classmates, by and large, came in with more knowledge of the subjects and they had parents who could help them more.

As well, I was culturally out of step. Because my family wasn't Orthodox, I was getting a very different message at home than I was in school. My parents tried to work around the difference, but it sometimes bit me in the butt -- often because I didn't know when and how to keep my yap shut. My parents' line to me about religiosity was something along the lines of different people have different opinions about God, no one knows for sure who's right, and all forms of religious practice are equally valid. That was decidedly not the opinion of the teachers and administrators. I remember one time when a teacher told us that Orthodoxy was the only correct way to practice, and I contradicted him. Suffice to say that didn't go over well. Boys had to wear yarmulkes (small skullcaps) and tzitzit (fringed garments worn under the shirt), which were new to me when I started. Yarmulkes were too visible to forget. But I would often forget to wear the tzitzit, and would get in trouble if I was caught. "I forgot" wasn't an acceptable excuse. Wearing tzitzit was expected to be second nature. You wouldn't forget to put on pants before going out, so why would you forget to wear tzitzit?

Another issue was my friends outside of school. My neighborhood wasn't particularly Jewish, and it certainly wasn't Orthodox. It's important to remember that, within the Orthodox world, religion is ever-present. You wear a head-covering which reminds you of God. You have prayers in the morning, in the afternoon and in the evening. You pray before you eat and after you eat. And after you use the bathroom. But in my milieu, the religiosity that was supposed to permeate my entire life would necessarily take a break on weekends and during the summer. Well, not during the whole summer, since I did go to an Orthodox summer camp for several years. But that's another matter.

After the eight grade I went to a public high school. That decision was met by my teachers with disapproval, but I was adamant. And I was free.

Looking back, I know that I wasn't the only kid in the class from a nonOrthodox background. But at the time it sure seemed as if I was. And I never felt as if I fit in.

Friday, April 3, 2020

floral friday - daffodil

I think we can all use something positive about now. So I am inaugurating "Floral Fridays." Every Friday I'll post a picture from my garden. I will do this until either I get bored of it or we get past this whole COVID-19 thingy. Hopefully the latter will happen before the flower season is over.

It's still early spring, so I don;t have a lot of blooms to choose from. Here's a daffodil. Honestly, daffodils aren't my favorite flower. But they're early season bloomer and they thrive around here. If you plant a few bulbs in the fall, you'll get some flowers in the spring, but they'll reliably spread. To the point where you might even consider them weeds. Of course, if they're growing where you don't want, it's easy to pull out the extras.

I know there are a lot of different cultivars -- I can see, in my yard, the yellows, the oranges, the whites with yellow, the yellows with orange. But I know very little about that.

Anyway, this one was growing in a clump in my front yard. It's got an extra moist look because we had rain today.

Thursday, April 2, 2020

thursday nights in new york -- the taking of pelham one two three


Continuing the theme of saluting movies set in America's pendemicular epicenter...

Tonight's offering: The Taking of Pelham One Two Three

Four armed men steal a subway car and hold its passengers for ransom.

For God's sake, though, watch the original 1974 movie -- not any of the inferior remakes.