Queen for a day...

the paper shamrocks are being swept away...the spilled beer hosed down...revelry receding in the rear-view mirror...for Jews, this next weekend gives us Purim...late this year...overlapping with Palm Sunday and hopes for spring to assert herself with budding trees and warmth...I have to admit...these last few months...since the October 7th Israeli massacre...which occurred on the Jewish holiday of Simchat Torah...literally "joy of the Torah"...let that sink in...all Jewish holidays are wrapped in sorrow...knowing that there are fellow Jews held in captivity in Gaza...if they are...there is a deep part of me that thinks they are all dead...and so in a few days, we celebrate Queen Esther...and the resilience of our people...or as we would joke before October 7th...they tried to kill us, we won, let's eat...but as I look away from the news...the tragedy of the hostages...the total lack of recognition from women's groups and leaders around the globe of the rape and mutilation of Israeli women (Michelle Obama, anyone?)... and to the tragedy of civilian loss and starvation in Gaza (Egypt silent as a mummy about the closed border)...I wonder...the news always shows male leaders and their mouthpieces digging in their heels...across this globe...and mothers crying silent tears...the amount of women in Palestinian government is pitiful...it's not much to brag about in Israel either...Golde Meir is but a powerful twentieth century memory...maybe women should step forward...if they could...in Gaza, give up their murdering and raping husbands and sons...form a women's coalition to negotiate in good faith...and in Israel...form a more moderate coalition...not caving to religious fanaticism or corrupt leadership...I know...just a pipedream...a crazy thought...but something to think about before you bite into that hamentashen...

one for the ages

The Gilded Age...The Roaring Twenties...The Great Depression...I got to thinking a few days ago about "ages" and how they got their names...did the names properly convey what life was like for the average Joe...or Josephine...we know that not much was really "gilded" in the later nineteenth century, except for the very wealthy...and despite social change...which was significant...the twenties roared...into the Depression...not much to "flap" about...which brought me to this...what will they call the first 20-30 years of the 21st century?...my first thought was The Age of Entitlement...we certainly aren't sitting around that proverbial campfire singing kumbaya...no one takes responsibility for their actions...the fault always rests on the shoulders with those who you violently disagree with...come to think of it...maybe this time period will be referred to as the Age of Discontent, or Disconnect...chose your word with autocorrect...technology outpacing humanity...invention over intention...can't finish the blog...no worries...it's AI...AI...go...

Getting your sea legs

I was on a short cruise last week...encountered rougher weather than one would expect in February...and while waiting for an elevator on my last night...which is a scheduled activity on many a cruise..."waiting for an elevator at 6pm"...I saw a dad with his little daughter...she must have been about 4...cute as a button twirling her sundress...he joked with her asking "I hope you have your sea legs"...to which she replied incredulously..."Dad...I don't have sea legs"...it got me thinking about rocking ships...and wobbly legs...and life...our journeys are never all smooth sailing...we all, on many occasions, want to run to a muster station and abandon ship...it's our ability to get those sea legs...a sense of balance and serenity...and tenacity to move forward...that steers us through life...and adversity...and so, as I thought about my imminent departure...and eventual Monday morning and a huge "to do" list...I was hoping for a strong gait...buoyed by memories of soft winds...sunny baby blue skies...giving me a renewed sense of purpose...but just in case...I'll hang on to that Dramamine...

Attack of the fitting room mirrors...

shopping for clothes...alone...is the biggest pain in the ass...you try to haul as much as you can in with you...multiple styles...sizes...and then pray...there I was yesterday...looking for a sweater  but thinking maybe jeans too...Lord have mercy...this is where that expression comes from...two sizes...three styles...you get it...but after crying exhaustion with the third pair...I realized I had only one size in the style I really liked...and it fit...well...until I sat...then breathing was optional...I meandered out into the store in their jeans...my socks...no one flinched...and couldn't find the next size...headed back to the fitting room disappointed...until I saw a saleswoman rolling a cart by me...I asked her if the next size was in the storage room...she looked me over...she said they didn't have it in the store...and besides..."they would be way too big for you"...she was my new best friend...I told her how these...pointing to their jeans that I could have walked out in...were tight when I sat...she claimed they would give and stretch...I was doubtful...and getting hungry...I went back to the fitting room...put my clothes back on...then I looked in those hideous mirrors with the poor lighting...oh you wonderful saleswoman...you know nothing about the plight of my people...my family...the genes...not the jeans...the plight of "groys pulkes"...I will translate...but the essence will be lost...it means big thighs in Yiddish...I sighed...bought the sweater...thinking salad for lunch...as I headed home...

Silence is golden...

Golden...Golden Bachelor...Golden Globes...it seems as days get shorter all is golden in entertainment...or is it?...first, the Golden Bachelor...or when we yawned towards the grand finale...was he really the golden grifter?...I will admit I did watch it...from weird, promising start...to pathetic, typical finale...all that seemed more real in the beginning...sincere, older bachelorettes...supportive sisterhood...was just business as usual...although watching rejection happen to these "older" women seemed a tad too real and painful...clutch my pearls...until the fan favorites starting showing up all over Instagram and everywhere in between...social media darlings...alongside the plastic young winners and runners up from past seasons...it is only days before these senior bachelorettes hawk products...become senior influencers...ugh...then the Golden Globes...a little history refresher...what once was a Saturday night blip on TBS became a primetime Oscar warm up...people took notice...kind of...it still was the Hollywood Foreign Press...a group I could have easily pictured on a small plane bound for...Epstein Island...and so the red carpet was what drew me in...wearing my January winter sweats, pale complexion and holiday weight...then Covid...then everyone pointing fingers at lack of inclusion...which was hysterical...what was the difference?...this was never supposed to be a serious critics darling...it was just a winter party where celebrities starved themselves...fit into -0 size gowns...got drunk...and rambled through acceptance speeches...but ok...no one wanted to host anymore...so this year they gave us Jo Koy...who?...oh, he's the stand-up guy whose career will be part of the Oscar dead montage...with the most cringe-worthy opening imaginable...I was hoping this was written by AI...because if it was a team of writers...well, this writer says - go back on strike...then odd pairings...inane banter...oy...today would have been David Bowie's 77th birthday...and Wednesday will mark 8 years since he passed...and I keep thinking of a line from his iconic song, Golden Years...just remember...before you click on anything else claiming to be golden..."run for the shadows in these golden years"...don't believe me...just ask the groundhog... 

2023...shake it off...

blog #246...in my poetic stream of consciousness since May 2012...and I find myself struggling...to write...to exhale...the world is on fire...and closing in...battle lines drawn for everything in life these days...pick a side...get eviscerated...because everyone is an expert...Tic Tok told them...hide in the greys...no opinion...no voice...another day...tangerine sunrise or Canadian fire skies?...get out of bed...get moving...just breathe...avoid the mirror at all costs...pick out a necklace...maybe the Hebrew nameplate...maybe not...watch what you post...what you say...what you write...politics...2020 redux with a vomit bag...Handmaid's Tale in Texas...minus the red cloaks...migrants and homeless...everywhere...all in the shadow of 700 million dollar sports contracts...and Taylor's billion dollar Eras tour...I am typing this wondering what AI would say...a middle finger to that for sure...the days evaporate as New Year's looms...as for the heavy weight of 2023...I guess a Swiftie would shake it off...but me...I am a "Joni"...looking for a river to skate away on...happy 2024!

Hatikvah

Simchat Torah 2023 will be one for the history books...I hope...why, you think, does she hope that such a dark day for Israel...and by extension all Jews...will be one for the books?...because of the unease I have had for years that my people will not be a warm and complicated chapter in this book of mankind...a chapter filled with angst and joy...unfathomable death...and then life renewed in the grasped hands of a hora...feet pounding hard...to stamp out the hate...no, my fear is we will be but a footnote pushed to the margin of a page...I have never been to Israel...it does not matter...there is a sadness about all of this that is quite intangible...the hope of an accord between Israelis and Palestinians is gone...it certainly will never come to pass with Abbas or Netanyahu...Abbas, a raging anti-Semite...and Netanyahu will never be able to erase the memory of rockets and blood from this generation's minds...and in my mind I keep hearing Hatikvah...the Israeli national anthem...it means the hope...when I hear it...it is the little music box that was in our menorah that I hear...we would light it each Chanukah in my childhood...the lights sparkling and the music playing...the light against the darkness of early winter evenings...the hope we would always be together around that menorah...as my heart breaks I try to remember that...that Israelis will sing again...light candles again in peace...until then, we, their brothers and sisters will do it for them...and with that I say amen...