Don't Gel Too Soon

From Our House to the White House: Seders and a Happy Passover

In a few hours I go "off the grid" for a combination of two days of Passover (Thursday and Friday) and Shabbat on Saturday.  Then I'm back, but gone again next Wednesday and Thursday for the final days of this labor-intensive holiday.  It really is a trip - lots of cleaning and cooking and using different dishes and not eating anything with five grains, wheat, rye, barley, oats, and spelt (except for Matzoh which has to be made from one of them.   Special mustard, vinegar and all packaged foods need special "Kosher for Passover" labels.   I have written about this in other years so this year felt kind of "last year" as wondered what to say before going silent for so long.

Then, thanks to the always-ahead-of-the-curve City Council Candidate Jill Zimon, I learned this: there will be a White House Seder!  How cool is that?  I've always felt that the Seder and its tale of redemption from slavery was a universal story; one to which anyone with either a history of enslavement or a sense of justice could respond.  And now, the first African American president, himself a symbol of freedom and, hopefully, a more just America, has seized upon this universal story as a message of openness and unity. 
Listen to the Post's account:

In his letter, Obama called the story of Jews' ascent from slavery to freedom in the Land of Israel as "among the most powerful stories of suffering and redemption in human history," accompanied by rituals and symbols that indicate "the beauty of freedom and the responsibility it entails." He also said the holiday presented a message for all humankind. "As part of a larger global community, we all must work to ensure that our brothers and sisters of every race, religion, culture and nationality are free from bondage and repression, and are able to live in peace."

As Jill tweeted this morning, I to would give anything to be there - she wants to live-blog it.  I'd just like to see it in action.  Either way, it's an extra reminder not only of the freedom we celebrate but also of the gift of messengers who remind all of us - Jews and non-Jews, of the many treasured ways to honor and preserve that freedom together, whatever our history. Chag Sameach.

 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T EAT IN MY HOUSE?

I just came from a beautiful, moving wedding that reminded me once again of everything I love about this observant Jewish life we are living.  It is a privilege to have the warmth and spiritual richness that it provides and I understand that more every day.  Sometimes though, even after nearly four years, the process is a pain.  I wrote this a couple of days ago and haven't posted it because it's so cranky; now as I recall the beauty of Jewish ritual, I can balance that grouchiness  with a gratitude for all I have gained.  So read it with that in mind.

I had a long conversation a couple of days ago with a close friend.  He wanted us to come to dinner, and when I explained that, because we eat only kosher food and use utensils that have only dealt with kosher food, it would be better if he came to us, it came as something of a shock.  All he wanted was to extend hospitality to us, and I had to refuse it.  A very troubling experience. 

I have had, and continue to have, a real sense of peace and meaning and connection since we've been living this life, and wouldn't trade it for anything, but as you know, I've written plenty about my battle with keeping kosher. Initially romantic about the whole thing, I started to get angry when facing (as opposed to all the great cooking that goes on in this community) the inedible stuff that passes for kosher food on airplanes, and sometimes at conferences. 

Because I've only been living a really observant life for the past four years, it's still anything but automatic.  Because I've only been living a really observant life for the past four years, I know what Pho tastes like, and ham sandwiches, and lobster.  And the great feeling of discovery when you wander into a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant and it's just fabulous.  All gone now.  And most of the time, I'm fine with that.  But here are some things that sometimes continue to be difficult:

UNTIL PASSOVER PASSES OVER: HARD WORK AND TRUE MEANING

I used to love Passover.  The politics of freedom, the story of courage and redemption, the miracle of the Red Sea and the great songs -- all wonderful.  We had nursery school matzoh covers that the kids had made, lots of stories and family and friends around and a general great time.  Once each year.  And then the holiday was over.  There was no preparation beyond the cooking.   

But that was then.

Now that we are living our kosher, observant life, things are pretty different.  And exhausting.  In the first place, the holiday is two days long at each end with, I think, five days in between.  This year, it started Saturday night at sundown, with the first Seder (the word means "order" and it's a ritual meal telling the Passover story).  There are services Sunday then many people have company for lunch.  We went home to crash because that night there is a second Seder!  This year, since Friday night is the beginning of the Sabbath, that means that from Friday night until Monday night we couldn't use computers, read email, drive, turn lights on and off etc.  There are reasons for it; honoring the commandment to celebrate the liberation of the Jewish people is a wonderful privilege.  It's just so much work!

If you're Orthodox you have to clean the house (well, we'd probably do a spring cleaning anyway) to get rid of any crumbs or other chometz (bread-related stuff). The toaster has to go (crumbs = chometz).  The coffee machine has to go (to be replaced by one that has used Kosher for Passover coffee only.)  You have to swap out all your dishes and pots.  I'm having artichokes on one of the meals I'm serving and just realized I have no ramekins to put the dip stuff into because they are used the rest of the year.  Gonna have to figure that one out....  And I haven't even told you about all the food that's not legit and how you need special spices labeled Kosher for Passover and they don't make Passover curry powder or tarragon or even decent mustard.

Anyway it's a pain.  I began this post in a snit but now it's three days later, the first days are over, everything is done and I feel better.  The last thing, the hanging pot rack, is covered by a sheet (so scenic - here it is.)  Here's why:  all the non-Passover stuff has to either be isolated or out of the room.  It's really tough, and heavy, to take all my fancy Calphalon pots off the racks and down to the basement so this is the solution I've come up with.  The other stuff not in the basement is in cabinets that are taped shut .  The remaining kitchen storage is jammed with Passover-ready tools and foods.  What's not in there is piled on the counters because there's no place else to put it.

I'm in a real work mode so it's been doubly tough to pay respectful, thorough attention to this this year -- only our second living in a kosher home as observant Jews.  But it's done.  And now, I've just been struggling to get past the prep anxiety that was waking me up at night and into the holiday itself.  OH and not end up obsessing about where we're invited for lunch and who's coming to our house and....

Even so, I can still summon the thrill of remembering the remarkable past and recovery the Jewish people experienced - leaving Egypt and so many times since.  (if you don't count that pesky Golden Calf thing.)  And remember that it's our tradition to honor freedom and tell the story every year - like Camelot.

Ask ev'ry person if he's heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.

Even more than Arthur's though, our story  is informed with a moral depth that can be obscured by all this crazy kitchen-cleaning.  Think of the Ten Commandments - the second time they appear. 

 “‘Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. 13 Six days you shall labor and do all your work, 14 but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, you or your son or your daughter or your male servant or your female servant, or your ox or your donkey or any of your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates, that your male servant and your female servant may rest as well as you. 15 You shall remember that you were a slave [3] in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. Therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.* 

That's how it gets me.  At each Seder, Saturday and Sunday nights, we read the story of the abuses against the Jews and the miraculous escape - and are reminded that, as we deal with others, we must never forget that we once were slaves too - particularly in our dealings with those who work for or serve us.  Beyond that, concern for others informs the entire service.  This appears near the beginning:

This is the bread of affliction which our ancestors ate in the land of Egypt. Let all who are hungry, come and eat. Let all who are needy, come and partake of the Pascal lamb. Now we are here; next year may we be in the Land of Israel. Now we are slaves; next year may we be free men.  You could, of course, complain about the "free men" phrase but that was thousands of years ago, and the sentiment, in my view, transcends gender.

So there you have it.  It is an honor to live with such values and messages even though, my friends tell me, the aggravation arrives every year, with the Seder.   Like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, there's much asked of us, not only spiritually but also logistically.  But, like so many parts of this still-new life we are living, what emerges amid the crankiness is a sense of pride, and meaning, and peace.

*Thanks to my friend Aliza for this insight - she is a true thinker and teacher.

IN JERUSALEM: A CHILD AT THE WALL AND OTHERS IN SCHOOL

We leave Jerusalem for the airport in two hours and I don't even know if it's worth going to sleep.  It's almost midnight here and and cab is coming at 2 AM.  So much has happened that I've been too tired to write most of it down.  I guess I'd better chronicle it somehow though. 

This was one of my favorite moments of our trip.  It's almost dawn at the  Kotel (Western Wall of the old Temple) and a young boy and his father prepare for morning prayers.  This day is the first that he will "lay tefillin "-- wear the special prayer objects on his arm and forehead to follow the commandments by placing reminders on the arm and "between thine eyes" - on his forehead.  They've chosen to celebrate this very significant pre-Bar Mitzvah moment in the early morning - a sunrise service where the Amidah - a critical prayer - is recited just as the dawn arrives.  A loving and very impressive family of four girls, two boys and two remarkable parents, they all joined to offer moral support and presence to someone they love as he takes this first step to what I guess you'd call "religious adulthood." 

I know the photo is blurry but I don't like to show faces of other people's families -- they deserve their privacy.  I just want you to know how lovely it was.  An animated and intelligent young man, his father at his side - his sisters, mom, cousins, friend - and a couple of us -- watching him make his way.  I told his mom, whom I very much admire, that it was a privilege to be there.  Probably sounds like hogwash but it isn't - watching all this take place as the sun rose to illuminate us all was a true blessing. 

Of course we couldn't watch everything because much of the ceremony took place on the "men's side" of the mehitza (divider between men and women) where we weren't allowed to be.   We peeked through fence dividers though, so we did get to see a bit.  I've been living a fairly observant, Orthodox life for a couple of years now, moving forward month by month, holiday by holiday, and I continue to be amazed at the levels of intolerance I manifested before I learned about observant life from the inside.  Days like this one remind me of how much of the world we can't judge without living it - or at least being willing to come along as others do.  This day was a perfect example of that.   

That same day, a cousin of the family at the Kotel invited me to visit the school her kids attend - K-8 - near the town of Efrat, on the grounds of a kibbutz called Rosh Tzurim.   
Founded by an amazing woman named Noah Mandelbaum, it began as an effort to accommodate a single Downs child by mainstreaming him, along with a special teacher, in a "regular" classroom.  It was so successful that within months she had 4, then 6, then finally, so many  kids that she launched a school where such mainstreaming would be policy.  This photo shows the school in action.  There are many classrooms for Downs, autistic and other developmentally affected kids study alongside the rest of the class.  I didn't want to take photos there and distract them.  In this nursery class is another phase of the program.  The young woman whose back is to us is fairly seriously compromised but she is permanent staff in the classroom and is learning to be a preschool aide able to get a job and work outside the school.  That smiling girl in the blue sweater is today's "guest" - another child with serious developmental issues who will work in the classroom for the day.  The program helps these young people find a place of their own in the world - and teach all the kids at Reshit School the value of every human person.

This is Noah, the school's founder.  Surrounding her is part of the farm where every child - "normal" and otherwise, works each day - together.  You can see the colors, the free-form murals - all the stuff that reminds me of schools we all dreamed of in the 60s.  In many ways the tone of this school is similar - but this is a real "put your money where your mouth is" environment.  Parents have to believe that the things their kids learn here are more important than super-competitive environments where the only standard is how far their children are from the next step on the ladder.  Learning to be moral, caring human beings is an actual mission here.

The kids are pretty free (it's kind of Summerhillish), across ability spectrum, and the curriculum is designed to allow each to learn in her own style at her own speed.  When I asked Noah about kids like mine, who had needed and appreciated structure, knowing what was going to come next, her reply was startling in its good sense.  Basically - and I'm paraphrasing here - the idea is that "for some kids, especially more intelligent ones, that may be true.  But for kids with less ability it is especially important that they learn to live without an institutional structure every minute because the world doesn't have that kind of structure - and the world is where they will have to live." By the way, after years of fighting with the educational establishment, Reshit has been designated a model and its efforts to mainstream all kinds of kids will be emulated in schools throughout the country.

I have more to write - about exploring ancient tunnels under old Jerusalem and more - but this is enough for now.  I'll try to have the rest in a day or two.

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN' - SAN FRANCISCO SCENES YOU MIGHT HAVE MISSED

We're here to visit our remarkable,wonderful sons and having a lovely time - hence the virtual radio silence here.  Some things though, you need to share - even during a family vacation.

First of all, you always know when you come to San Francisco that you'll see things that might elude you elsewhere, but this one is spectacular even for the capital of Blue State America.  This little guy is wearing a shirt that says "Don't pat me, I'm working."  He's apparently an assistance animal but we were damned if we could figure out what he was assisting in doing...   besides wheeling through Chinatown making friends.

Lucky Revolution Vegan Chinese Restaurant (outside of which the Monkey rolled past us.)   Great combination fried rice and hotpot eggplant, too

This is the site of Dave Eggars' tutorial project 826 Valencia, now expanding to other cities.  Author of A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, founder of McSweeney's publishing and The Believer magazine, he's built a place to effectively teach writing and communication to underserved kids.  It's embarrassing to wander in, thinking oneself fairly cool for knowing to come here -- and to discover -- a gift shop!  Clearly Eggars and his crew have built something very attractive -- and become a tourist attraction.

One block from 826 Valencia and across the street, this blast from the past -- windows jammed with anti-war and other political messages.  This is not, of course, limited to San Francisco, especially these days, but it just seems so at home here.

Yesterday my husband announced that he had a surprise for me - and dragged me out of the hotel for breakfast.  Next thing I knew, we were aboard a cable car for the first time since somewhere around 1971, right after we got married and came to Stanford for him to finish school.  It was a great ride on a rainy morning.

We passed this - the top of Lombard Street, San Francisco's zig-zaggiest.

And ended up here - at the famous Buena Vista Cafe.  Famous as the place that invented Irish Coffee, across the street from the end of the cable car line and just above Fishermen's Wharf, it's a true landmark a place we used to love.  It was so great to return and sit by the window watching this city's every-changing tourist scene.  On this corner, it could still have been 1971 when we first came here.  There's something lovely about a return like this especially when it's a gift.  My sweet husband triumphant once again... 36 years after our first visit!

More pix soon.  Goodnight for now.

ODE TO COSTCO AND ITS FANS

Costco seems to be everyone's darling.  Of course, it's been my darling for years.   It's got great stuff, great prices, great staff, even wonderful employee policies. But in the past week I've read two very loving profiles of the biggest of the big box stores in publications ranging from State of Grace -- the blog of the remarkable Grace Davis, to the Sunday New York Times.

There are lots of reasons for this I think.  Of course there are the usual ones: excellent quality, bulk discounts on staples like paper towels, excellent store brand tee shirts (say some of the men in my life), remarkable produce, and pretty good everything else.

It's also fun. At the ones around Washington DC, and the ones we used to go to in LA, I always feel like I'm at the UN.  Once, during the women's World Cup, we walked in to find, gathered around the television section, an enthusiastic crowd that looked as if they were from every country in the world.  Mexico, the Philippines, India, Japan -- just everywhere - all cheering together.  It's always like that.  Big families, couples, singles, mom and pop restaurateurs, hipsters, geeks -- everyone.  Even Douglas Coupland.  In my favorite of his books, Microserfs, he writes "my universe consists of home, Microsoft, and Costco." 

It's also home to one of my favorite Simpsons scenes ever:  the family almost drowned when they ran into and broke all the giant bottles of cranberry juice in  an aisle display and an ocean of juice flooded the store.

OH and I forgot books.  Best sellers, cook books, thrillers - if they've got something you want, they've got it for less than anywhere else.

So carry on oh noble vendor -- serving us well and offering us entertaining distractions (if you can park) on Sunday afternoons.  We knew you even before the New York Times.  But before that?  What did we ever do without you?

HEY MACY'S - ON THIS THANKSGIVING, THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

When our kids were little we used to take them, in the freezing Manhattan November, to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. For the twenty years we lived in New York, from Josh in a carrier on Rick's back, to Josh on his shoulders and Dan in a Snugli, to the two boys worming their way past the grown-ups to stand in the front of the crowd at 75th and Broadway, to the years we went to our friends' house overlooking Central Park West on Thanksgiving eve and watched them blow up the balloons -- all the years of Columbus Avenue cocoa and popcorn, we were there. When they got older, the boys went together without us; the two of them joining the crowds (the TODAY SHOW just told me that this year there are 3.5 million people along the parade route) with the finesse of New York kids. I cherish those memories; I know they liked it but I don't think as much as I loved watching them respond to the balloons and the music and the colors and the crowds.

If I weren't in San Francisco without all our albums I'd scan a photo of the kids waving from the top of a newspaper vending machine, or on their dad's shoulders, or looking up at the balloons with such magical wonder that I can't describe it. But we're here and no such photos inhabit my laptop, so I leave it to your imagination.

We left Manhattan for LA in 1992 and I haven't been to a Thanksgiving parade since. I don't even recognize all the balloons. Central Park West belongs to other parents and kids now; nobody who's only seen it on TV can imagine the excitement, the smells, the noise, the freeeeezing cold and thrill of watching their kids wave to Big Bird and Bob IN PERSON!!!! I'll always have a deep affection for Macy's and the gift of that annual celebration of family, joy and, yes, thanks. Nobody can give a gift better than the gift of memories and they certainly have done that. Every single year.

ISN'T THAT THE GOLDEN GATE BRIDGE?

We leave for San Francisco in the morning, I'm not packed, I have a class tonight and an appointment in 15 minutes.  So this is a shortie.  I'm so excited to see our kids and, as usual, nervous in advance.  Last year I wrote a post called "I Don't Want To Be a Turkey on Thanksgiving."  Sort of the same feelings this year; being considerate of adult kids and their autonomy NOT from things you might do on purpose - those I can control.  It's the stuff that can happen by accident and end up being an issue that I always worry about. 
If there's anything I'm thankful for it's the gift of these two young men who have grown into such fine people.  Even from all the way across the country, they bless my days.  Makes Thanksgiving mean a whole lot.

JERUSALEM DIARY 2.0: DAY TWELVE TEL AVIV DAY TWO

Breakfast in our little cafe surrounded by locals with dogs and newspapers.  This is a wonderful neighborhood - the kind people move into until those who created it have to go someplace else because it's become too expensive.  You can see it happening all around us.  But it's fun for now and the Mediterranean is literally five or six blocks away. 

On our way out we passed this noodle stand  -- I guess these people want fresh ones for Shabbat soup

These kids in the Carmel Market are canvassing to get people to sign up as organ donors.  In Israel it is still difficult to convince people to participate because of Halachic rules about burial.  Much has been done to change the rules, but the squeamishness has not abated.  They were charming kids, and very committed to this issue -  and they had quite a stack of cards of new registrants to the organ bank here.

It's almost Shabbat so my post for tomorrow is written and ready; this is the last one from here.  I'm hoping we can go tonight to the beach for the drums that welcome Shabbat then to our friends for Shabbat dinner.

JERUSALEM DIARY DAY 11: ACTUALLY WE'RE IN TEL AVIV IN THE "COOL" NEIGHBORHOOD (OF COURSE) OF NEVE TZEDEK

This little cafe, NINA, is also home to a small hotel owned by a young woman named Aliza.  One of the pioneer establishments in the gentrifying neighborhood of Neve Tzedek, it's full of the sorts of scenes you would expect in an area that was almost gone and is returning to a lively street and commercial life.

Here's a bad photo of the room - I'll post an improved one tomorrow.  It's a little apartment with a sleeping loft and a kitchen.  Adorable.

This is the oldest neighborhood in Tel Aviv, just blocks from the sea.  As you can see, there's lots going on , even on a Thursday night - from book store readings to the odd practice of staging wedding photos posed against the industrial landscape here.

We're going tomorrow to the drum circle on the beach and a crafts show with our friends.  It's nice to be in a modern city after all that time in Jerusalem - as moving as it is it's also confining in an odd way.   I have described the Jerusalem/Tel Aviv comparison as really Red State-Blue State and I think I'm right.  Culturally, politically, sartorially and philosophically they are like Salt Lake City versus New York City.  Both have their charms and represent parts of the Jewish whole but boy are they different.  Goodnight from the Bluest state in the Middle East.