So it shall be written...

(in that anne baxter purr) "Oh moses, moses"...poll any number of young jewish children with the question, "what is your favorite jewish holiday?" and most likely there will be a rousing roar of "chanukah" as visions of presents and dreidels dance in their eyes...i, however, would have said passover...visually always "the ten commandments" in all its glory...as a child missing the humor in the casting (vincent price! edward g. robinson!) but remembering the beauty of debra paget and yvonne de carlo...oh, moses...in the amazing naivete of my youth, i believed it when my uncle pointed to the statue as we drove to robert moses state park, and said, "moses is buried here"...imagining holy sands beneath my toes...on long island!...but for me nothing will ever top the sweet memories of huge seders hosted by my grandmother or her sisters...my grandmother was the eldest of six sisters...as they married, had children, and their children had children, the family became quite large...i can close my eyes and see the table...at the head of the table, my grandfather and his brothers-in-law, singing in hebrew, joking in yiddish, yelling at everyone to be quiet in english...next, the women, taking turns sitting, cooking, serving and also yelling at us, the children, while the sounds of their laughter in the kitchen drowned all else...and us, the children, rolling eyes, crawling under the table in search of the afikomen (matzoh to be taken and held for a reward at the end of the seder)...escaping to apartment hallways to run and play, so happy to see cousins once more...and then suddenly i was a hostess...truly understanding after organizing a sit-down multi-course ceremonial meal that when it came to hosting responsibilities, at passover you wanted this holiday to pass-you-over...but secretly savoring the vision of your own daughter, giggling with her cousins way down at the end of your table...passover...a holiday that has it all...slavery, freedom, sorrow, joy and redemption...in ways not so different from all that this most holy week means for my christian friends...perhaps when we feel little hope for our community, or nation, or for our world, we should remember that sometimes the parts are greater than the whole...and sometimes random acts of kindness sustain us...happy passover and happy easter...and even if you don't travel either of those roads...here is wishing us all peace, and lightness of the soul even in the darkness.

it's not easy being green...

ah, st. patrick's day...when everyone is irish...when it rains beer down fifth avenue (well actually the day before this year, but i digress)...when everyone raids their closets for something green...i hate to admit it but most shades of green are not in my "color wheel"...i can pull off one or two...although they look better when i am tan...and not this tired shade of late winter...actually, for me one of the most joyous things about march 17th is that once you get over your hangover on the 18th you are two days away from spring!...but we all know that it's only a date on the march calendar...one that mother nature surely ignores...and yet, our cat, donut, is hopeful...gazing out the windows...waiting for the birds and their return...basking in the late-day sun...department stores, still reeling from yet another dismal season, tempt us with a rainbow of color as spring, and almost summer, clothing stare at us from every window display and circular...as we shiver in the artic march winds...spring is coming...and so is the easter bunny...who will no doubt hop a little faster so his cottontail doesn't freeze...and moses...miriam and aaron might want to hand him a north face coat this year...but that, as they say, is another story...this weekend i think of an old irish blessing, "may the road rise to meet you, may the wind be ever at your back. may the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rains fall soft upon your fields. and until we meet again, may G-d hold you in the palm of his hand"...

the list is life

middle of the week...my "to do" list is drowning in the mess of my pocketbook...and my mind wanders...the oscars are over...an end to movie awards season...but i admit, for me one of the guiltiest pleasures in the weeks leading up to the big night is catching old oscar-winning movies on tcm and other networks...they remind me of what sparked my love affair with the movies...the night before oscar, there was another "oskar" on tv...oskar schindler...and there we were watching "schindler's list"...no matter how hard i try for composure the minute itzhak perlman plucks that first string i am gone...and there are other moments...the tears flowing freely during the ending...it is twenty years since the movie won best picture...and as i pause to reflect on what that means i realize that as a society we are approaching a point where there will be no one left from that generation...no survivors...no schindlers...no one who looked the other way...or looked in horror, helpless...no demonic leaders...no sheepish followers...all will be swallowed by time...as a second-generation american...jewish american...there is always unspoken gratitude that my beloved family never bore the tattooed numbers or emotional scars of survivors...and yet, we are reminded yearly, on yom hashoah, and during memorial services...during poignant pleas from the pulpit...that it is our obligation to remember...and i do...

there's no business like snow business...

almost valentine's day and it seems mother nature shot us in the ass last weekend...we all knew it was going to happen...after last year's winter which was a no-show for snow we seemed doomed...but then maybe we all thought after hurricane sandy we were owed one...or two...no dice...there it was...snow...and lots of it...someone answer this one...when did they start naming snowstorms...and who thought of using cute disney names?...nemo was that adorable little fish...ask anyone east of the nassau-suffolk borderline and they will tell you it should have been named "winter storm you're fucked"...and now i see the weathermen (and women) almost whispering the forecast...afraid they will be strangled when they mention the word snow...more days of cold temperatures and frosty precipitation...i found myself closing my eyes and dreaming of southern heat...until i saw pictures of a tornado a mile wide eating up mississippi...mouth agape, subconsciously clicking my heels together...looking for margaret hamilton on that broomstick...then shrugging and picking up my two-ton snowboots and gloves...spring is looming in the distance they say...but i keep thinking....they shoot groundhogs...don't they??

bowling for dollars...

ah, the super bowl...as a kid i used to refer to it as the "stupid bowl"...these days the actual game is almost a sidebar to the ads, the halftime show, the money at stake...and the money involved is staggering...the cost of ad time...the cost of a 12 minute lip-sync fest...the cost of a bag of doritos...as a new yorker there was also a feeling of "who gives a shit" since there was not a giant nor jet on the field...and for me personally, being a huge fan of manning...peyton, that is...well, it was hard to get excited...there was the interesting footnote to "the blind side", as michael oher is a raven and now has that nice ring on his finger...the ads were mediocre at best...a far cry from some clever reveals of years ago...beyonce sang a little...shvitzed a lot...and shook her money maker...but left me cold...oh, and after halftime she announced a world tour...pinch me, i am stunned...then there was the blackout...which seemed suspect as it greatly benefited san francisco...for a while...maybe it was all too much...maybe it was the ghosts of katrina asking for a little humility...when it was over and all was said and done i took two images with me...the funniest was the raven making snow angels in a field of confetti...and most bittersweet...the sandy hook fifth graders showing jennifer, alicia and beyonce how it's done...showing everyone what real courage on the field looks like...now, where are their rings?

defying gravity...

i am back from the promised land..no, not israel...boca...thankfully missing the brunt of a brutal cold spell...flying delta this time which was sad because there was a time when it was a somewhat "classy" airline...and now saying "no frills" would be a severe understatement...adding to the glamour, and our being held somewhere in the skies over philly because of a little snow at laguardia, was the incessant cough of a young woman in front of us who i think had bubonic plague...anyway, i am back and it is the end of january..therefore, we are in the middle of the avalance of award shows...tonight's was the sag awards...this is the one where actors vote for actors...actors schmoozing at tables as the telecast crawled along...they kept showing the food at the tables...which of course was never touched, this being hollywood...they could have just rolled it all over to food kitchens in the area...but i digress...there were many talented actors in the room...but i kept waiting for the movie stars...for a cue from the orchestra...for everything to turn to black and white...tuxedos and satin...burt lancaster...bette davis...cary grant...katherine hepburn...hell, i would even settle for a generation or two later...shirley maclaine...warren beatty...julie christie...and always, jack...but here i am watching winners and losers...many around my age...many fighting the age fairy with the talented skills of hollywood surgeons...some more successfully than others...but all reminding me of the swift cruelty of time...as if the mirror at 6am couldn't do that already... and it's easy to be an armchair critic...loving julianne moore in "game change" but wondering who let her out of the limo in that dress...then sighing as i am 52 also...still dreaming of winning a golden statue...but I'd be armed with a neatly folded acceptance speech...and a roll of some "fashion tape"...just in case...

girl, put your records on....

i heard carly simon's "that's the way i've always heard it should be" on the radio today and got nostalgic...for the songstresses of the '70s...i remember doodling lyrics on the back of notebooks...every line speaking directly to me...the quiet  angst of teenage girls...carly...joni mitchell...linda ronstadt...and for those "life sucks" moments, janis ian...some songs featured their own lyrics...some the pure poetry of dolly parton...karla bonoff...images of vinyl...the excitement when purchasing a new record...scrutinizing the pictures...the layout...playing them over and over again...the first awful scratch...revealing to everyone your favorite song...or chorus...and i catch my breath and wonder...was i ever that young?...were they ever that young?...the radio snaps the moment...taylor swift is whining that "we are never ever getting back together"...it's like an audibly-induced coma...it makes me secretly wish that harvey weinstein would sell her as the next kate winslet...keep her from the recording studio...ah, well, "that'll be the day"...