I used to love flying. I don't anymore. It's not the security checks, although I think we have a lot of hassle without an equal level of safety. It's not the cost, although it is too high. It's not the extra fees, although I should be able to bring a suitcase on any long flight.
I flew back from New York last week. I flew in a commuter jet. It's not the smallest plane in which I have flown. Sean and I accompanied friends, Randi and Lewis, while Lewis was getting his pilot's license. It was pre-9/11, and we buzzed the Statue of Liberty and the Seminary. We had a great time. It's not the size of the plane that bothers me.
I used to fly frequently. It never bothered me. I flew back and forth to Boston all through university. I flew to Europe twice in high school. I flew multiple times to California and to Israel. I flew twice a year from Hawaii to the mainland and back while we lived there. Flying never bothered me.
However, over the past ten years my love of flying has diminished. Part if it is sheer neurosis. I worry about what will happen if the plane crashes. I'm not worried about me. I'm worried for my children. I think about how they will feel, and what I will miss. It doesn't matter that my intellectual self knows that flying is safe. I think the second part is the size of the planes. More and more I've been flying on commuter jets. They are much likely to be grounded for bad weather, or prevented from landing. Once, when I flew to Boston, we circled the city for a couple of hours, and flew back to Toronto. High winds had caused a small plane to roll off a runway, and the winds blowing across the other runway were too high for us to land. Invariably, when I fly in a commuter jet the flight will be delayed. Out of my last 17 flights, only one took off on time, and that was still twenty minutes late. Small planes also experience turbulence on a different level. When I flew home last week a young boy, maybe six years old, sat in front of me. As the plane rocked and bounced he said, "It's scary. I'm scared." He was right. It was scary. I've felt my stomach drop thousands of feet on most of the flights I've taken in the past few years. More and more my flights have bounced their way from air current to air current, shaking so badly I couldn't even read my book. I have never taken a flight without reciting t'fillat haderekh (the traveler's prayer), but now, on numerous occasions, I find myself reciting Shema or Psalm 23.
I miss the luxury of a large plane, of dressing for travel, having a real meal, and a smooth flight. I miss being treated like a human instead of cattle. And I miss enjoying travel instead of dreading it.
As we move to smaller and smaller planes, more expensive flights, and what feels like price gouging I wonder if humans were truly meant to fly.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Hugs
Sometimes my 14-year-old is wonderfully insightful. Tuesday I walked around the block with Miriam, the kids, and her mother-in-law. It was Jesse's suggestion. He said, "I think the chavurah should go and get the Wohl family up from shiva."He was sorry he would be in New York, and couldn't be there for his friend.
The logistics didn't work out. I was in NY, and Sean was swamped enough that the email didn't go out to coordinate, but it worked out. Miriam knew the thought, and appreciated it. And I was there.
After Miriam and I hugged.
I've been hugging friends a lot lately. A hug is a special thing. It can convey a million emotions with a touch. It can be light-hearted, manly, or deep and strong. It can share need, and love, appreciation, or desire.
I've loved hugs for as long as I can remember. My friend Mike gave the best hugs in all of METNY in the 80's. My son, Gavi, is the cuddliest ever, often running over for a quick hug and kiss at the oddest times.
I'm looking forward to hugging without desperation. I have the greatest friends in the world, some near, some far. With those close by, we've been hugging at every opportunity. I'm hugging acquaintances. I'm hugging the cat. I'm sending virtual hugs to the people I love around the world. With them I hope they all can get the message of just how special they all are.
The logistics didn't work out. I was in NY, and Sean was swamped enough that the email didn't go out to coordinate, but it worked out. Miriam knew the thought, and appreciated it. And I was there.
After Miriam and I hugged.
I've been hugging friends a lot lately. A hug is a special thing. It can convey a million emotions with a touch. It can be light-hearted, manly, or deep and strong. It can share need, and love, appreciation, or desire.
I've loved hugs for as long as I can remember. My friend Mike gave the best hugs in all of METNY in the 80's. My son, Gavi, is the cuddliest ever, often running over for a quick hug and kiss at the oddest times.
I'm looking forward to hugging without desperation. I have the greatest friends in the world, some near, some far. With those close by, we've been hugging at every opportunity. I'm hugging acquaintances. I'm hugging the cat. I'm sending virtual hugs to the people I love around the world. With them I hope they all can get the message of just how special they all are.
New York in Spring
On Sunday I drove to Manhattan with my parents. We left at 5:00 AM, and I slept off any if the drive when not behind the wheel. The day passed quickly, and by early afternoon we were in The City.
Although I live in a city, and may go downtown, to me The City will always be Manhattan. Somehow, for New Yorkers "The City" refers to only one borough, although New York City has three (Manhattan, Brooklyn, The Bronx, Queens, and Staten Island). Every other borough is known by name. [By the way, The Island will always refer to Long Island. I don't care how many islands exist where I live.]
There's a feeling I get whenever I enter NY (the city, not the state). It's a feeling of comfort and belonging. This may seem strange in a city of over 1,500,000 people, but it's there. I get the warm fuzzies when I see the skyline, and there's a calmness in entering the borders. [Don't get me wrong, I love living in Toronto. I have the most amazing chevra here. We've been lucky to make special friends in many places, but to have such a special group all in one place that supports each other unconditionally is unique and amazing. There is a great Jewish infrastructure, good kosher restaurants, museums, culture, and more.]
Sunday afternoon we headed to my brother's apartment on the Upper West Side, and ate bagels and lox for lunch. I love the doughy, chewy toughness of a NY bagel (and I've made my kids into NY bagel snobs, God bless 'em). For dinner Russ & I walked to a nearby steakhouse. Being in NY is great. I asked Russ what he wanted for dinner. He didn't care, and listed about a dozen kosher restaurants within walking distance. We walked up about four blocks to the steakhouse, where I saw a bunch of people I knew. Oddly, walking around the Upper West Side I kept seeing people who seemed to be doppelgangers for people I knew. It must have been that Jewish look that just seemed so familiar.
Russell is moving soon. His company is transferring their whole operation to Greensboro, North Carolina (Anyone know a nice Jewish girl there who owns her own tools and wants a great catch?). Knowing this was the last time I was going to be in Russell's apartment had me thinking of the times I had left NY.
The first time I left NY I was leaving for college at Brandeis University. It was an exciting time of life. I'd had my heart set on a Boston area school since I was ten, and Brandeis since I was 15. I couldn't wait to go, but knew I'd be back in NY before long.
The second time I left NY was post-JTS. Sean & I headed to Hawaii for three years. Although I didn't know how long we'd be connected to the Navy, but again, I assumed I'd be back in NY.
Strangely, when Sean left the Navy, we headed back to Long Island. For two and a half years we were back to being real New Yorkers, living just two miles from where I grew up. Everything was familiar. Yet, time doesn't stand still, and while we loved taking advantage of everything NY had to offer, Long Island wasn't the place for us.
Now, knowing my brother was leaving the city, and with my parents and aunts and uncles in New Jersey (A place to which no New Yorker admits s/he could ever move), and my cousins in Westchester (which somehow isn't really NY), Russ is the last tangible connection to NY. Sean has family there still, and we have friends there, but somehow they don't represent my connection to NY in the same way. So, I was philosophical as we drove into Manhattan. I realized that I didn't miss NY as much as the feeling and idea of NY. This became clearer as I headed to my meetings on Monday morning. I locked up Russell's apartment, and headed towards Broadway. I walked about seven blocks when I realized I didn't have the time to walk all the way to my destination. I walked two more blocks, west this time to hop on the Riverside bus.
An amazing thing the MTA. Form 106th Street and Broadway to 119th and Riverside I had three choices of how to get there vis mass transit, all sensible. The bus moves smoothly up the street, and I arrived at my destination (from 106th to 119th) in minutes. I took the extra time to sit on a bench in Riverside Park, eat my corn muffin (bought in lieu of the black and white cookie I REALLY wanted, but the bagel place was out), and read. Children from a nearby daycare were running through the part. People were jogging, and a Parks Service worker was mowing the grass.
I smile a lot in New York. Walking the streets of the City, looking around, smiling at people, especially around my old stomping grounds, is wonderful. I love that almost all the museums ask for a "suggested donation" for entrance so anyone can go. I love Broadway and off-Broadway, and off-off-Broadway. I love TKTS and twofers, so you can get discounted tickets to almost any show in NY. I love opera, and Shakespeare, and music in the Park, the Central Park Zoo and all its statues. I love free concerts at the MET with picnic blankets, wine, kids, and dogs. I love the MTA, and how wonderfully it works. I love that at all hours I can get almost any kind of food I want, all kosher. I love Fairway, and Zabars, and that Westside Market has no doors (open 24 hours/ 7 days a week). I love the speed at which the city moves, but that people are really very friendly if you simply smile and say, "Hi." I love the modern buildings built to enhance the old instead of dwarf them. I love that New Yorkers just know in their heart of hearts that the Big Apple is the absolute best city on earth no matter where they live or how much they love the place they live. I love that somehow, through no intention of ours, our kids became real New Yorkers, even though they lived there for only a few years.
I LOVE NEW YORK.
Although I live in a city, and may go downtown, to me The City will always be Manhattan. Somehow, for New Yorkers "The City" refers to only one borough, although New York City has three (Manhattan, Brooklyn, The Bronx, Queens, and Staten Island). Every other borough is known by name. [By the way, The Island will always refer to Long Island. I don't care how many islands exist where I live.]
There's a feeling I get whenever I enter NY (the city, not the state). It's a feeling of comfort and belonging. This may seem strange in a city of over 1,500,000 people, but it's there. I get the warm fuzzies when I see the skyline, and there's a calmness in entering the borders. [Don't get me wrong, I love living in Toronto. I have the most amazing chevra here. We've been lucky to make special friends in many places, but to have such a special group all in one place that supports each other unconditionally is unique and amazing. There is a great Jewish infrastructure, good kosher restaurants, museums, culture, and more.]
Sunday afternoon we headed to my brother's apartment on the Upper West Side, and ate bagels and lox for lunch. I love the doughy, chewy toughness of a NY bagel (and I've made my kids into NY bagel snobs, God bless 'em). For dinner Russ & I walked to a nearby steakhouse. Being in NY is great. I asked Russ what he wanted for dinner. He didn't care, and listed about a dozen kosher restaurants within walking distance. We walked up about four blocks to the steakhouse, where I saw a bunch of people I knew. Oddly, walking around the Upper West Side I kept seeing people who seemed to be doppelgangers for people I knew. It must have been that Jewish look that just seemed so familiar.
Russell is moving soon. His company is transferring their whole operation to Greensboro, North Carolina (Anyone know a nice Jewish girl there who owns her own tools and wants a great catch?). Knowing this was the last time I was going to be in Russell's apartment had me thinking of the times I had left NY.
The first time I left NY I was leaving for college at Brandeis University. It was an exciting time of life. I'd had my heart set on a Boston area school since I was ten, and Brandeis since I was 15. I couldn't wait to go, but knew I'd be back in NY before long.
The second time I left NY was post-JTS. Sean & I headed to Hawaii for three years. Although I didn't know how long we'd be connected to the Navy, but again, I assumed I'd be back in NY.
Strangely, when Sean left the Navy, we headed back to Long Island. For two and a half years we were back to being real New Yorkers, living just two miles from where I grew up. Everything was familiar. Yet, time doesn't stand still, and while we loved taking advantage of everything NY had to offer, Long Island wasn't the place for us.
Now, knowing my brother was leaving the city, and with my parents and aunts and uncles in New Jersey (A place to which no New Yorker admits s/he could ever move), and my cousins in Westchester (which somehow isn't really NY), Russ is the last tangible connection to NY. Sean has family there still, and we have friends there, but somehow they don't represent my connection to NY in the same way. So, I was philosophical as we drove into Manhattan. I realized that I didn't miss NY as much as the feeling and idea of NY. This became clearer as I headed to my meetings on Monday morning. I locked up Russell's apartment, and headed towards Broadway. I walked about seven blocks when I realized I didn't have the time to walk all the way to my destination. I walked two more blocks, west this time to hop on the Riverside bus.
An amazing thing the MTA. Form 106th Street and Broadway to 119th and Riverside I had three choices of how to get there vis mass transit, all sensible. The bus moves smoothly up the street, and I arrived at my destination (from 106th to 119th) in minutes. I took the extra time to sit on a bench in Riverside Park, eat my corn muffin (bought in lieu of the black and white cookie I REALLY wanted, but the bagel place was out), and read. Children from a nearby daycare were running through the part. People were jogging, and a Parks Service worker was mowing the grass.
I smile a lot in New York. Walking the streets of the City, looking around, smiling at people, especially around my old stomping grounds, is wonderful. I love that almost all the museums ask for a "suggested donation" for entrance so anyone can go. I love Broadway and off-Broadway, and off-off-Broadway. I love TKTS and twofers, so you can get discounted tickets to almost any show in NY. I love opera, and Shakespeare, and music in the Park, the Central Park Zoo and all its statues. I love free concerts at the MET with picnic blankets, wine, kids, and dogs. I love the MTA, and how wonderfully it works. I love that at all hours I can get almost any kind of food I want, all kosher. I love Fairway, and Zabars, and that Westside Market has no doors (open 24 hours/ 7 days a week). I love the speed at which the city moves, but that people are really very friendly if you simply smile and say, "Hi." I love the modern buildings built to enhance the old instead of dwarf them. I love that New Yorkers just know in their heart of hearts that the Big Apple is the absolute best city on earth no matter where they live or how much they love the place they live. I love that somehow, through no intention of ours, our kids became real New Yorkers, even though they lived there for only a few years.
I LOVE NEW YORK.
Parashat Emor
Parashat Emor spells out the ritual life of the Jewish people. Within Emor the calendar is set forth a second time, now within the context of the holiness of the Israelites.
The frequent reiteration of sacred days and rituals shows that we are a people of ritual, marking sacred time and space through our days, our months, and our years. God speaks to Moshe, saying, “These are the Lord’s special days, which you shall proclaim as sacred occasions.” These times are ordained by God.
Ritual recreates the profane as sacred. From birth to death we measure our lives with sanctified moments. By designating a weekly Shabbat our weeks and days take on special meaning. Through Rosh Hodesh our months take on special significance. Through the marking of time from Sukkot to Pesach to Shavuot we make our history holy.
But our calendar and our rituals go beyond simply marking the moments. Through our rituals we re-experience our history, sharing our collective memory, taking pride and solace in the shared experience of our people. At Hanukah we recreate the miracle of the oil, modifying it to increase its light, instead of decreasing. On Tisha B’Av we physically reenact our mourning over the destruction of the Temple and Jerusalem. The Shalosh Regalim reenact our travel from Yitziat Mitzraiyim at Pesach, to Har Sinai on Shavuot, to Sukkot and our forty years of wandering in the midbar. Through doing we experience. Through experience we gain knowledge. Psalm 90 reads, “Teach us to number our days, that we gain a heart of wisdom.”
If we can do this together there will be no end to the sanctity of our memories, our moments, and our futures together.
Barukh Dayan Emet- A Judgment for Bin Laden
Barukh dayan emet; God is a righteous judge. It's the traditional Jewish response to news of a death. Sometimes it is not an easy response, at other times it flows off the tongue and through the lips with ease.
It flowed very naturally on Sunday night. While I was watching the Mets/Phillies game at my brother's apartment, the announcer broke from the game to say, "ABC news is reporting that Osama Bin Laden has been killed."
My first reaction was a deep sigh of relief and gratitude; my second concern for the team that took him out (They are all fine). Then, barukh dayan emet. This was all followed by sadness that Sean could not be in Afghanistan for this.
It's a series of contradictions. On Monday I heard the phrase uttered in response to the deaths last week of two people I knew. Both were vibrant individuals. One was young, with young children. Both were mentschim, good men. Were they judged righteously? In death or in life?
Bin Laden's death is filled with contradiction- the respect with which the body was treated in death by the NAVY Seals versus the total disdain with which he treated others in life. He may have used a woman as a shield even at his end. Pakistan immediately began to allude to help and intelligence they provided. However, Bin LAden may have lived in this compound, under the nose and eyes of the Pakistani government, for over three years, and the US did not tell Pakistan of the operation until after it was over. Is this the picture of a helpful, involved government?
Whether death comes at God's choosing or not, through cancer or a Seal's bullet, for the individual it will not matter. We can only hope that once on the other side barukh dayan emet, for that is the moment when God will judge. Last week, God had two easy, easy judgements in Samuel Wise and Michael Wohl. This week, a very different judgement had to be made, but perhaps equally simple in God's righteousness.
It flowed very naturally on Sunday night. While I was watching the Mets/Phillies game at my brother's apartment, the announcer broke from the game to say, "ABC news is reporting that Osama Bin Laden has been killed."
My first reaction was a deep sigh of relief and gratitude; my second concern for the team that took him out (They are all fine). Then, barukh dayan emet. This was all followed by sadness that Sean could not be in Afghanistan for this.
It's a series of contradictions. On Monday I heard the phrase uttered in response to the deaths last week of two people I knew. Both were vibrant individuals. One was young, with young children. Both were mentschim, good men. Were they judged righteously? In death or in life?
Bin Laden's death is filled with contradiction- the respect with which the body was treated in death by the NAVY Seals versus the total disdain with which he treated others in life. He may have used a woman as a shield even at his end. Pakistan immediately began to allude to help and intelligence they provided. However, Bin LAden may have lived in this compound, under the nose and eyes of the Pakistani government, for over three years, and the US did not tell Pakistan of the operation until after it was over. Is this the picture of a helpful, involved government?
Whether death comes at God's choosing or not, through cancer or a Seal's bullet, for the individual it will not matter. We can only hope that once on the other side barukh dayan emet, for that is the moment when God will judge. Last week, God had two easy, easy judgements in Samuel Wise and Michael Wohl. This week, a very different judgement had to be made, but perhaps equally simple in God's righteousness.
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