Communication is ... All there is?!?

This blog takes on a certain timeliness for me... Can today's events in Staten Island be used to help launch a conversation on race and structual bias, and also opportunity, or will it be noted and then fade away? There is a chance to move a conversation forward- in a way I haven't seen for many years- about an issue based in reality that has been around for a long time. And the conversation itself can do great good...

...

It took a first experience in another state of consciousness for me to understand the late German sociologist Niklas Luhmann's phrase "connectivity."

It hasn't been nearly as fun though it has taken longer to finally get his seminal point that in our social world, everything is communication. Luhmann refused to investigate "real" actions or goings on; he said you could only really analyze what is being said.

As an MA student and passionate 20-something, that seemed an academic cop-out. How could one deny that things happened. There was love, war, learning.

But as an adult, I can now say that I totally get it. And it's both infuriating and morivating: it makes me want to act-- or rather speak.

As I look at the perception of conflicts over time, I'm totally struck by the power of the frame. Ukraine is in the news? Well then it is happening for the vast majority of people in our western world. Out of the conversation? Then the problem has actually disappeared. It may rear its head again, but for the moment, it is not there in our consciousness.

Communication shapes perception and perception creates reality. Really.

That's not academic at all. And it's not predestined either. Would it be possible to keep Ukraine in the news? Yes-- write a great piece about Putin's childhood fantasties of Russia's breadbasket region, highlight one young woman who captures the imagination, report on a new element on the scene... The key- have it picked up, repeated, debated, shared 1 million times and then reported on again.

But, you argue- if something really "big" happens, it will make the news and be in the public discourse- so events create communications create perceptions- it's the other way around. 

Someone decided what "big" was- and someone believed him. Isn't there a muppet movie song to that effect? Kermit explaining the "existence" of God?

Ask anyone on the "happening to" side of the news and they will inevitably disagree with what was covered and how. The reality of the protagonists is not by necessity the "reality" we get. In fact we can get a reality that is quite different from those on the ground.

Is there a relation? Usually there is. But what context to offer, what frame, makes all the difference in how we understand those links to a real concrete reality. Are they fascists or saviors, murderers or brave defenders? In each there is a grain of some more solid "reality" or truth, so it can seem to jive with experience, to explain reality, but the choice of How that reality is explained, how meaning is assigned, is very contingent on who is communicating and how well, hence what communications are catching on.

Ukraine is a searing example, as I believe  for the folks there, life remains very hard indeed, whether we watch from here or not.

Even more infuriating for me is the realities that we create with our political discourse here in this country and in the Middle East.

It is a vicious cycle of communications strengthening the worst possible narratives, having some impact conversely on the reality on the ground, that in turn strengthens those same negative communications. It's overwhelming, it can be very convincing, and of course it too is in part true, and becomes more and more so every day.

I'm grateful for being able to finally see this clearly. And very very frustrated by the general direction of these communications. And impressed with people who stand behind their alternative realities, and wishing they would fight more for their communications.

Looking on the bright side of staying young at heart

As I race - literally- across Manhattan's subways and streets to get to pick-up at the very last minute, my mind is clear and I can't help marveling.

Here I am, racing yet again. I am no longer a high school kid late to school, or a single in Berlin dashing into the cold to meet someone for beer. 

I am a well seasoned mom, with some grey hairs, a very established job. I'm someone who cleans dishes every night, looks at bathroom renovations with interest, can't fit into size 6 anything.

But I'm still running to get there. Sure, there is a new desire to stop every few blocks for breath that makes it physically clear to me that I'm also different than I once was, but - as I run through the premature darkness at 5:55 pm on a mild New York November evening- I feel like nothing has really actually honestly changed. 

And because I'm in a good mood today, I want to read that positively. I want to embrace the running-late soul that is deep inside of me and that makes the 41-year-old Rebecca so fundamentally like the 15-year-old one. 

So much around me has changed- starting with the world (the Wall, the presidents, the technology), my context (the job, the family, to some degree my convictions), and my own physical self. 

But some things have not. Likely these include my ideas. But if who-I-am is measured by what-I-think-- it's simply harder to remember to what extent i have stayed constant or changed. Or have I only changed marginally as new experiences have layered one on the other? Is there something like an ethic or an impetus or a vision that stays the same? But if I want to learn, don't I want to change, and so not be like my younger self? The level of ideas and identity is deeply complex. There's nothing intuitive about it.

But some of these most basic feelings and even more, some of those scenes I've been privy to before- I recognize them. I know in my bones what it feels like to run- and to feel for a moment late, yes, but also free in some strange but real way. Free to pass everyone else, to be one with a beautiful night, to move my body as fast as I am able. 

I'd like to capture those moments that are quintessentially me. To read a book on and on and it feels like time is stopping - it will be irresponsible in the morning, but in the middle of the night it's just quiet and endless and all-absorbing. To ride a bike and feel my small revolutions set off larger gears and pull a huge wheel across the road at my bidding. To laugh hard. To run late.

Grateful for a certain type

There is a certain type of person that I'm really attracted to.

If it is a woman- she is nice looking, smart, has a generous smile, maybe glasses, maybe just pleasant eyes. She's natural and somewhat fit without being an all-out sports enthusiast. No serious make up, no serious clothes, but a lovely real look. If she has kids, she's relaxed with them, attentive, but not helicoptering. If she doesn't, she might be more of a flirt, more fun, but never lost in that persona of pleasing others. She has a good sense of humor- part real fun, small part irony. She's compassionate and grounded, a doer and a thinker. That's who I aspire to be too.

If it's a man, he's a little gruff, a little tough, he might have an accent- Eastern European, Latino, Israeli. He's handy - he can fix things, and he's strong. He laughs generously, and there's some fundamental wisdom there- seeing life just as it is, no illusions, but no taking it for granted either. If he's a Dad, he's a really good one. He can cook and take care of a house - though it's a competency and not a passion- and he has a sweet and gentle side with kids, whom he can juggle with humor and responsibility. He is pensive and directive in good measure, tolerant and slightly impatient too.

Man or woman, he is a thinking type, reflecting on lived experience and abstracting ideas that help to radar in on reality more clearly. She is moral- not in strictly religious terms or according to outside precepts, but in the sense of being true to oneself, and trusting that "oneself" is a decent being, a social animal that prospers when others do as well. Both types are accomplished- getting things done and caring about doing meaningful things.

I've met some wonderful people who have built out this type for me. Not a few of them are Israeli or Jews imported from elsewhere, and I don't doubt that this is a character derived from those seminal experiences from childhood and through my career in the Jewish world. But some are Palestinians, Germans, Argentines, Albanians, French, Nigerians... Even Americans! When I was young I noticed that a disproportionate percentage of my friends had parents from elsewhere...

What creates the type? Is it a combination of secure upbringing and inherited loss that grounds- that creates compassion and realism together? So different from the entitlement of perfect security, and equally far from the existential fear of those who have suffered tremendously themselves.

Grateful for adversity?

I remember the wise words of my Mom when I was a kid, desperately begging for a doll that had just come to market and that my neighbor received as it hit the shelves for Christmas. It was a bust - with hair that you could dye, curl and otherwise style, and make-up you could apply. If I still wanted it so desperately in three months' time, Mom told me, it would be mine.

Sure enough, I never got the doll. Well before deadline, my neighbor and I were on to something else.

Some fundamental human traits don't change with age.

Studies (and SO corroborated by lived experience) show that human beings are hardwired to enjoy new things for a short time and then quickly to return to a state of not caring. Sure- when we get a new toy (and this doesn't seem to change based on age, so fill in anything here- piece of clothing, art, food, gadget...), we are happy and excited for a while, grateful, but it's soon over and onto the next.

Since gratefulness is directly linked to happiness, that's hard stuff. It forebodes a world of spoiled jerks for those who have means, and misplaced help for those who do not - well-intentioned aid that may all too often be ephemeral in effect. Complacency, boredom... icky stuff. Not what we hoped from enlightened society. 

What can be done to alter that prognosis? 

- an intentional "slow" practice of gratitude. 

Gratitude is a good idea, but Blogger already assigned me "veryverygrateful" (the name of this blog) in my effort to practice gratitude because the less hyperbolic names were taken. People are joining gratitude challenges, marathons- the more, the better. There's something deeply suspect about these formulas. 

Perhaps it is possible to lock gratitude in time instead? To be grateful not in quantity -- a lot, often, veryvery -- but rather with greater quality, more heft. Can we revisit, often, a few special and defining moments -- when someone gave good advice, when an opportunity was offered and seized? Can we spend the time in the first place to identify these defining moments in our own life?

- an active pursuit of new experiences and not things. 

Can we cultivate an appreciation for a smile, a laugh, a chance to dance, even - crazy - to work together - over material things? Sometimes people describe these as relationships over material- but relationships are complex and can't be a source of uninterrupted gratitude any more than objects can be. Instead- let's focus on moments of relationships. 

As we think of how best to help others too, there should be a strong preference - at least when situations are not life threatening - for skills over objects, teaching over handouts.

- finally, a pursuit of challenge, of adversity. 

That may sound overboard- who would ever choose difficulty? But it seems so clear that when adversity strikes, it brings with it a chance for deeper feeling, for transcendence, and yes, for a new level of appreciation. 

It would be nice to say that we feel that way only if we ourselves are struck- but actually observing others in adverse situations is also powerful. The kindest interpretation of this is that we have an amazing power to put ourselves in the shoes of others and feel with them.

That's why the inclusion in religions of imagined/re-enacted suffering (slavery at Passover, communion's symbolism) is so fascinating. We don't actually experience the suffering, but we try to deeply empathize through what amounts to ritual and symbolic play-acting.

In a society in which we have so much- it is fascinating to think about how we can do anything but take it for granted. The answers above all amount to stepping out of the rhythms of our daily life. It seems necessary to do this in order to be able to look at that very life and see its distinct contours and to recognize them as good. 

Being a woman

There are challenges to being a woman in our society today. 

Some are internal- I read a very on point article earlier this week about how difficult  it is for women to hear criticism and how important to develop a thicker skin. Hear that.

And some are external - glass ceilings, the undying old boys' clubs models, and the issue of poor maternity policies. I've been exceedingly fortunate to have had incredible employers who have given me space on that latter and most fundamental of external pressures.

But in many ways, I count my blessings to be a woman in New York in this day and age. Beyond the timeless extraordinary physical capabilities of womanhood, we are living in a time when societal norms are making it easier and better than it has ever been.  

Here are some key aspects that go way beyond the basics- safety, freedom to choose motherhood or marriage, basic healthcare...

-- Men are positively encouraged to be supportive not only financially, but with time, child care, house work, cooking, even emotions. 

-- Employers are trying to include women in higher positions and cannot legally discriminate. Awareness of inequalities doesn't always fix them, but it helps. Flex time in all of its iterations is a basis for many conversations. 

-- A societal consensus has emerged on the capabilities of women and the desire ability of including them in all arenas.

-- There is full acceptance of women's choices to work and make money or to stay at home. This used to be doctrinaire one way or the other- but I have the sense that women who make different choices are coexisting more than ever and more accepted. You'll always find pockets of resentment, but in general- both women working and women who are at home (actually not usually) are prized.

-- and not to be missed... Those pointy toed high heels are finally out.

I've benefitted a lot from all of these and I'm grateful.

Thoughts from a trip to Berlin

With so much news about virulent criticism of Israel morphing into antisemitism in Europe, I wondered about my plans to visit Berlin this summer. I wasn't scared for my safety, but had some trepidation about the potential for bitter, defensive conversations.

More to the point, I wasn't worried about conversations, but about not being able to have them; that I might find myself at loggerheads with people I otherwise liked, with old friends... being yelled at rather than talking. 

I was grateful to find another reality.

I've tried to explicate some of the specific political perspectives I heard below. With few exceptions, they were fairly sophisticated and nuanced- no one with whom I spoke had notions of uncompromising black and white. 

Of course if I had expected a pro-Israel consensus I would have been gravely disappointed. But fearing the opposite- blindly anti-Israel diatribes, I was relieved by the sanity of the discourse. 

I wanted to document my experience in order to help fill in a vacuum of understanding about the way this discourse is going - at least in Germany - and help mediate some alarming reports about the worst examples of discourse that seem to have been generalized to implicate the entire society.

Most significant to me was that I found virtually everyone with whom I discussed the situation open to listening. 

Why is it important to be open? Because it proves that viewpoints are not ideologically set, that learning, which is a fundamental condition of any real conversation - is possible. And because I felt that there was genuine interest in hearing my perspective, a Jewish one.

Why does it matter if a few people - the small sample of my friends - are open minded? Shortly before I arrived, there had been demonstrations including ugly antisemitic calls that were widely reported and some violent actions of grave concern. 

Two responses.

First, the offensive chants and behaviors also involved very few, and they were roundly condemned and prosecuted. It is important to understand that the perpetrators were generally relative newcomers to Germany who do not see themselves as heirs to its cruel past nor the lessons learned. Certainly, these incidents should serve as wake-up calls -- certain values such as tolerance are not optional, but rather foundational and must be accepted by all, and much more must be done to make this the case. What these incidents do not prove, however, is that Germany's broad post-War efforts to come to terms with its past and to create a better society and a more open one for Jews have failed, and it was this extreme reading that I saw reflected in much of the media coverage.

Second, a country or community - any group - doesn't stand out because of a majority, or even because there is an angry minority-  but because there is a minority that is committed to doing what is right and feels empowered. That's all, in my mind, you can ever expect -- and it's also he very best thing to hope for. Germany has been impressive to me not because of majority sentiment, but because of the individuals I've met who are so truly committed to building a better society and fighting antisemitism and racism and other inequalities in very profound ways. In this case- there is a healthy number, including the people I spoke with, who may be critical, but who are not blindly so and understand the complexity. 

One last note- I was so grateful for the unexpected openness I found - perhaps not in small part because it allowed me to be open too. I don't doubt that some of my concern in advance of the trip was that I might spend a vacation spouting talking points. 

That's not fun for me. I am someone who is eager to "translate" different experiences into greater understanding. And someone who wants desperately to see Israel living in peace with its neighbors and who needs to feel there is a chance precisely through the possibility of reconciling different narratives, pain and aspirations.

Below were some of the viewpoints I heard:

In general there was deep concern about the many Palestinian civilian casualties. One friend said she'd like to hear more nuanced viewpoints on both sides, but in particular on the Israeli side, and instead was presented with opposing black-white narratives in interviews with involved parties.

The demonstrations in Berlin were largely made up of people "of immigration background" as Germans say. Many are now also German citizens, but they carry with them a family history and often are attuned to a media and discourse whose origins are far away from Germany.

I heard strong concern about antisemitic utterances and acts that had taken place in Germany at these events - mirroring the clear condemnations of every major politician- and a worry that extremists might be bred and tolerated locally. It almost seemed a wake up call, though it is hard to predict if anything long term will result, nor is it clear what can be done most effectively beyond a society's strong insistence through education, political rhetoric, and civil courage on tolerance as a primary value, one learned in a most painful and personal way through the country's own history.

There was a deep concern about where this conflict might go and whether it would ever end, what if any long term solution might still be feasible, and a skepticism of the honest intentions of some of the players. 

There was also a clear and critical understanding of the destructive extremism of Hamas, and an understanding that Israel couldn't ignore open fire and tunnels. Perhaps the terrible revelations of ISIS acts that were concurrent with my visit lent additional emotional weight to that perspective.

It's personal

Getting tidbits of stories of so many friends and colleagues in Israel has given me pause - not so much to think, but to feel. 

Even if thankfully no one I know has been hurt- it is not hard to understand that the constant barrage of missiles and sirens and running takes an enormous toll on these people I like and admire. Perhaps even the greater toll comes from something that underlies all-- the fundamental ceaseless unease, even if it is  well hidden in many Israelis with their tough exteriors and on many FB posts with sardonic humor. 

And many of these friends happen to be worried about people beyond themselves, which makes it all even harder- caring for their small children, teaching other people's children, and helping others - in JDC's case the most vulnerable Israelis - elderly. disabled, poor.

So it feels very personal indeed. 

There have been two reasons why I have tried to temper some of those strong feelings as well. 

 

First- I realize the vast gap between my empathy and the actual experience of living under bombs. My empathy comes when I have time for it, the actual experience comes whenever a siren goes off and, in some low level but neverending way, all the time. Given that, it feels more fitting to  "listen" or read accounts than to make pronouncements.

And second, I'm very aware that I don't know as many Palestinians at a time like this though their human stories are doubtless devastating- and this does feel like the other part of the story.

Even if you disagree vehemently with the political decisions of Hamas, as I do, it is so important in my mind to recognize the human side. 

Here's a story that moved me deeply and forms my thinking on this: In his book reflecting on his experience during the Holocaust, Jorge Semprun speaks of a visit years after the war with a woman whose home overlooked Buchenwald, where he was held. She told him with great sorrow that she had lost a son in war. He responded angrily- how could she - likely a former Nazi party member - speak to him of her sorrow, which didn't nearly add up to his own? ...And it was "her side" that held Semprun and so many others prisoner and murdered countless of them. Later, in a moving scene, he reflects on his anger and comes to appreciate, though it is painful and hard, the fact that a mother's suffering is deeply real and to be honored- from a human perspective even as the political overlay remains abhorrent. And even if she cannot do the same and appreciate his pain.

The situation is of course vastly different. But when one recognizes pain and suffering and fear- it feels right to do so broadly.

The political judgements are something else again and I don't want to get I to that here. But two points that are general but seem important:

It's too easy to equate suffering with right, and it leads to wrong answers. We need empathy when we consider the political situation, we need to get the personal- but that alone is not enough- we also need  the ability to see the other side if we ever want progress. Political thinking should include but also transcend the personal. Empathy alone leads to anger and terrible mistakes. That's why Semprun's ability to  empathize on the other side is such a feat of humanity and a source of deep wisdom and hope for me.

And, second, it's important to look at the short term decisions and also at the longer term developments together. That's hard in the moment- but crucial.

  

Narrowing narratives

It's amazing to watch a big news story unfold over time. 

First there is a lot of random reporting. The news is all over the place, like pieces of a game- each one something in itself - a thought, a new fact, a comment or idea - but not necessarily tied to a greater whole.

That's an interesting time because the recipients of the news - if they really care - are actively engaged. They are trying out combinations of pieces, figuring out how seemingly unrelated bits fit together. They are making decisions- to weigh one piece of news more than another. They are truly bothered when they read something that doesn't work with what they have managed to bring together, but they can't quite rule it out.

And then suddenly the disparate pieces all start to merge together into a few big narratives. It's like someone discovered the game that's being played and now the scattered pieces take their rightful places. 

Each new story now serves a greater whole. 

How does that happen? In that initial period, a few interpretations are floated and some are stickier, seem to describe and explain the situation better. There is a certain satisfaction when these strong stories are found. They gain traction- they are repeated, restated.  There is a shift then- one gets the sense that  subsequent pieces of news are actually in the service of the larger narratives rather than the other way around.

I don't know if others are like me, but after a while of hearing these narratives, I often start finding them less rather than more convincing. It feels to me as if news is being squeezed to prove the story and the contrarian side of me starts wanting to poke holes in them and to point out contradictions.

Interestingly, it's harder to genuinely feel in this climate. This is the moment when a lot of people who don't really need to be invested tune out and when others seek like-minded confirmations. It becomes ideological- a question of belief rather than an open exploration of complex facts.

Of course there are still some people who embrace more than one narrative and make the point that it is a struggle to keep two narratives in mind simultaneously. But these voices  grow dimmer.

What am I grateful for? The insight into how this dynamic works, even as I have a horse in these races and care deeply about their outcome. But it feels too easy to have figured it all out, not reflective of a complex and changing reality.

Hate speech

There is a small statue in Berlin with a sweet, childlike cast of animal characters and these biting words, in translation here: "It's easy to be moral when your belly is full." The quote is from Brecht- perhaps the Three Penny Opera. 

I'm very cognizant of that when I am writing this... Not only that it is easy to preach when you're not hungry, but also to throw out moral theories when you are perfectly safe and not under siege. Still, being perfectly safe also affords a certain perspective on developments that I think is indeed valuable...

I'm in shock about the amount of hate speech I'm reading these days on social media. It's like a genie is out of the box and what's spewing forth is abhorrent.

Did I write a while back that I'm grateful for the sense that stereotyping is not the norm in the places I find myself? And did I lament that PC- for all the bad rap it got back in the 90s - has not laid root in most of the world?

Well, my circle of sanity has gotten a lot smaller.

Over the last days I've seen people characterized as animals, comments about how they should be wiped out, how they are fifth columns. I'm waiting for someone to describe them as a cancer- biomorphizing hate was a favorite Nazi embellishment.

That's hate speech I've pointed to all my life as dehumanizing. It's one of the values I associate with my Judaism, and  for which I'm deeply grateful .

What is dehumanizing about hate speech? It assigns motives without bothering to check, it creates a narrative without regard to the voices or intentions of those it characterizes. 

In this way, it steals individuality-  a person's volition and ability to tell his/her own story and to influence the way his/her actions are understood.

Dehumanizing is attributing motivations (and the worst possible) rather than really looking for them. Creating echo chambers rather than reaching out and asking. 

I say this knowing it's easier to speak about individuals in safety and security. But descending to this is nonetheless deeply troubling.

So what am I grateful for? My own sanity. Yes, my own safety. My own sense of sanctity?

Silence

Today I stopped to listen to the city. What's the tune of our town?

I'd say closest to a jackhammer.

Repetitive, loud, defeating actually: A combination of work being done, masses of people and more than anything else, incessant cars.

I had to will myself to stop listening, which is actually possible as it turns out.

In fact, willing yourself to not see things and not to hear things has a bad rap. It's used as shorthand for immorality or an immoral amorality. 

Actually, in very explicit ways, it's how we get through our day. Without being able to funnel stimuli out, we wouldn't be able to prioritize certain sites and sounds over others. If we insisting on taking in and responding to everything, we wouldn't be able to dedicate ourselves to anything at all. Overstretch= complacency. 

But whereas in some other places selective blindness and deafness may be the prerequisite for a decent level of focus, in New York, it's a prerequisite for keeping your sanity.

That's the reason this city wears on people - or at least on me. After a week here, I literally crave silence. 

I love the fresh smells, the pretty base color green, but more than anything else- it's the lack of noise, the ability to stop filtering out sounds and do something else with that dose of attention. It's energizing to leave New York. Recuperative....

There is increasing research on noise polution leading to stress, hypertension, further health problems, bad decisions, divorce, meanness, ugliness- you name it. I channel those studies personally.

Cities make noise- so is the answer to decrease cities, or just get out oneself?

There are other ways. Bikes- for one.

The best recent thing to happen in NY has been citibikes ... Let's see how pre-k compares.

And of course forays out of the city and into the silence.

Abundant nature

One of our family members just took a tour around Central Park with the "Wildman" Steve Brill and came home all excited. 

No, he said in the evening, he couldn't bother with ice cream, instead let's go outside. He was keen on eating little clovers, which have a delicious light lemony flavor. He wanted me to see and to try.

He also noted that their leaves are shaped like hearts, and showed me the big ones and the little ones- all carefully crafted.

And did I know there are wild strawberries growing behind the playground? And sassafras?

It was a mild and beautiful evening, and as he observed, there was a nice light.

Was that a sparrow or a starling singing?

Kids can amaze, and nature, but one of the best combinations is when nature amazes kids-- so moving and wonderful.

Does everyone believe in equality? Anyone?

I was raised to think people are basically equal and that diversity was a positive. I don't think I'm unique in that- not by a long shot. At the time, I felt it represented the norm. 

Or maybe it's better to state in a religious language- that all human beings are created in the image of God, and therefore each person has fundamental goodness in them, and value, as well as some basic needs and aspirations we all share. And then there are differences; they are important but not fundamental, opportunities but not prisons.

In fact, I don't doubt that religion played into this. The focus on learning about the Holocaust made me very sensitive to prejudice- anti-Semitism, racism. 

That's one of the reasons that traveling was so eye opening. I remember new friends in Europe spending hours of drinks and conversation trying to nail down just how the French were different from the Russians, or some other "people" from another... It was a favorite mode of conversation, a pasttime.

Of course when it took on a slightly anti-Jewish tone I bristled a bit, but it was always presented in good fun, which made it hard to take up arms.

It was hard to condemn this recognition of difference, in part because it felt like the antidote to political correctness gone crazy in the U.S. I didn't know to urge a slightly different angle - a frame of cultural context rather than a sort of absolutist characterization would have turned stereotyping into sociology.  

But even if the language was sloppy or reactive and might have been fixed, were the underpinnings about fundamental human value the same? 

I've come to think they were not and are not in much of the world, and to see that they are in question sometimes even here at home. This is an ideal that is minority opinion- not recognized wisdom. Even political correctness, which sometimes seemed to represent tyranny of the majority here- is a battle against the odds in the larger world.

What seemed to me to be accepted wisdom, almost trivialities about human equality, about the richness of diversity, are actually the product of a very specific time and place. And I'd argue an important, enlightened one. 

Is there a lot to criticize about the implementation of this ideal? Yes- if you look at the shocking statistic of New York of all places having some of the most segregated schools... Not by law, I should add, but in practice, which is the bottom line. Even if you look at how many, and me too at times, choose to group by background rather than taking advantage of the incredible differences and crossing boundaries. And so much more to add....

But I don't want to lose the fact that the ideal is still solid. And it's a lot more precious than I ever thought... A lot more worth defending. 

I'm grateful for being brought up with that, and for living in a society that at very least still articulates this ideal. It's not to be taken for granted- it's to work on and share. 

Not being jaded

Feeling sort of lucky today that though things can be frustrating and I am tired (!)- I'm not really jaded. Which means I honestly think things can be fixed and that it is worth trying.

I had a friend in Berlin who used to say that he believed half of the men he passed on the street would want to kill him of they could- not literally, but he felt this deep competition/hatred/ sense that our lives are a zero sum game with winners and losers.

I remember being shocked because I was under the impression often when I took walks that people would smile if you caught their eye. For no reason at all. Just human solidarity. A pleasant acknowledgement....

I've retained that base trust in our world.  It isn't that I haven't seen bad things and know about much worse. But I think things don't need to be bad. There are ways to inspire people to be better.

I think schools can be fixed, housing, basic levels of respect for people can be achieved, community can be strengthened, resources can be saved, values can be improved in our personal lives, etc etc.

In the end, I'm grateful for that belief and worldview. I think it gives me strength.

Seeing real change

This is a great model -- and a vehicle for leaving something good behind.

Reprinted from the JDC blog - jdc.org


In Argentina, a JDC Model of Local Empowerment

In recent years, it’s come into fashion to press social service providers – whether government or non-profits – on the long-term sustainability of their efforts to improve the lives of people in need.

The question is acute when we think of philanthropic dollars: How can we ensure that limited resources are maximized and that donors understand the incredible ability of their funds to make real and lasting change?

 

For JDC, our work in Argentina is a case study and a story that should be more widely appreciated.

Until 2001, Argentina’s approximately 240,000 Jews were largely middle-class, hailing primarily from Eastern Europe and the Middle East in the early 1900s and, more recently, mainland Europe as Jews sought refuge from the ravages of World War II.

 

Honest, but gentle

How's this for a Mother's Day poem?

I see my mom cooking.

I taste her yummy turkey.

I touch her long black hair.

I hear my mom say, "Stop it!"

I smell the cake that she made for my birthday.

I'm grateful that the criticisms are couched gently. 

Jewish idealism

At today's Yom Ha'atzmaut (Israeli Independence Day) ceremony at work, I was so moved by how moved everyone was.

People spoke with tears about how meaningful it is to have the day of celebration following immediately on the day when Israel remembers those who have fallen. They spoke passionately about their continued resolve to work for a strong and decent Israel, one the exemplifies the highest ideals.

It's late and I need to be short, but today I wanted to pay tribute first to the existence of the State of Israel, the miracle of the rebirth of an extinct language, the incredible Jewish journey in the 30s and 40s from annihilation to building a new state and a new Jew, and a country today that has so many wonderful people, so much incredible beauty and talent.

I also am grateful for the strong vein of idealism that runs through so much Jewish activism, including the American Jewish passion for Israel. For almost a decade and a half I've been working in an arena where many people view their work as a life project and not a job, one connected with their history and their aspirations both.

Why be grateful?

Why be grateful?

There's also a lot to be frustrated about, upset, even heartbroken.

Being grateful is a way of remembering all that we have nevertheless.

It's a good way to put the little things in perspective and try to get the bigger things in view.

But I don't want my Grateful blog to signify complacency either. In fact, could being grateful actually straighten our backs when things threaten those core "right" things?

I read an interesting movie review by Bilge Ebiri, a former classmate, in which he speaks about the social/political nihilism of our time. It's the phenomenon of not really thinking anything matters that much, or having given up on all. I see very few movies, but even I have recognized the theme of self-loathing and it's clearly one that resonates with our time. 

I think this blog is about trying to stand firmly FOR something.

What?

Here's a try, based on seeing the relations between themes I've chosen so far. (But I'd like help on articulating this.)

The desire for a stronger connection to the goods we enjoy (heat, water... ) - because appreciation heightens pleasure. It's a stance against being spoiled!

An interest in deeper human interactions (dance, games, no agenda conversations) to more fully connect us. A stance against commodification of relationships! 

An appreciation for real gains that our society has made (men cooking, unhindered voting, our physical security) and a vote for values of Enlightenment and democracy.

Heat

It's amazing how quickly 'having gratitude' turns into 'taking for granted.' I'm really interested in the basic question of how to hold onto that gratitude, and the corresponding joy and perspective that comes with it.

Heat is a good case study for me. Over the last week plus, our building has been doing major pipe work and we have had no heat. It's been a cool spring, and we've been kind of cold inside- wearing sweaters and socks, drinking lots of tea, and on a chilly rainy recent day, going to bed early to get under the warm covers. 

When I lived in Berlin in 1995, I had to heat my apartment using a coal oven. That meant schlepping huge buckets of coal up from a tiny cellar, trying to place the individual bricks in a fire-friendly formation, lighting the whole contraption, and praying... that it would actually catch fire in the oven, burn through, and subsequently warm the tiles, which would in turn radiate heat into the room. 

I think it's pretty obvious that I wasn't much good at this, and my apartment, which was my first independent one and which I absolutely adored, had the added disadvantage in winter of being on the ground floor. That meant no one heated below me either, and my floors were ice cold as a result. 

Berlin has long, dark and wet winters, and my apartment was always cold and damp. A dear friend visited and wore a full sweat suit, scarf, hat, two feather blankets, and towels on top of her to bed every night and was bitterly cold nonetheless.

My boyfriend, now husband, knew how to do the coal burning thing well, but had a bathroom that didn't have an oven or a heating unit of any sort. He was on the top floor if his building and the cold air came from every side and the roof. Going to his bathroom on a cold winter night took an unbelievable amount of courage, and I often literally ran there in preparation when I finally capitulated.

And of course, those youthful, and very memorable adventures, were nothing compared to the stories of so many people who have to endure cold in much worse conditions and over much longer stretches of time.

Elderly people are among the most vulnerable. In my current building in recent weeks, those who are home bound have had a very hard time.

And that doesn't hold a candle in turn to stories that I've become acquainted with at JDC-- of elderly people, Jews, in Ukranian villages who face an almost Siberian winter without running water and have to trudge to outside pumps, of leaky roofs and cold, damaged cement walls and outhouses. Not just for a few weeks, but for every winter of their lives...

It's miserable to be cold.. unless you are young I guess, and the situation is temporary. And then it's a good opportunity to be reminded of how wonderful and cozy it is to be warm again.

Remembering

A lot of Facebook posts started by reminding people that today is Yom Hashoah, a day to remember. In those words and the subsequent lists of murders and atrocities, an underlying concern seems to emerge: Holocaust survivors and eyewitnesses are dying, and we feel a heavy obligation to hold onto memory and make it our own.

Unlike Passover, which was so long ago that it has truly become a story open to interpretation, the Holocaust is still relatively recent, the harm done still very tangible, and it feels right to stick closer the hard facts. At the same time, we today are blessed with much fortune and find ourselves in a very different situation. So what are the lessons of such brutal suffering today? The answers are very charged, and their implications highly politicized. The mixture can be heavy handed; it's hard to hit an authentic note.

Popchassid posted photos that tried to alter that narrative http://popchassid.com/photos-holocaust-narrative/ in a way that was respectful and thought provoking.

Here are three manifestations of remembering that I find surprising and for which I'm grateful:

1. At lunch today, a friend told me about  her experience with two teachers in the countryside of Utah who had decided to do a unit with their students about the Shoah. She explained that they had little context and wanted to relate through the lens of a religious Christian rescuer. They also knew little about Judaism; when she visited the class, the students' first question was whether Jews believed in Jesus (as a wise man and reformer but not a god, she responded). But she was astounded by the teachers' curiosity, by how much her invitation to Shabbat dinner meant to them, by their interest in learning more and teaching their own children. That interest by others who are not Jewish and have no personal or collective history tied up in the Holocaust is amazing.

2. I'm hopeful about changes in Germany today, not because I think popular option is so vastly more enlightened, but because some people in the subsequent generations really do "get it" and care deeply about creating a better Germany and society, and they are spending much of their life on doing so. They include the friend who teaches people how to effectively counter neo-Nazis, others who work in government, others who write. It's not extraordinary that there are foolish, racist, antisemitic people (sadly), but it is extraordinary that there is such a robust cadre dedicated to a better way and willing to stand up tall and loud for that.

3. And finally, today at JDC our Yom Hashoah commemoration was dedicated to the incredible creative acts that survivors, aka victors, accomplished in the aftermath of the Shoah. That resilience, ability to build on, and incredible creative and generous impulse that inspired so many is the most inspirational of all.

Games

Games are amazing. We had two birthday parties today and the key to having fun was playing good games together- variations on tag and catch, and most important- run. When they were really involved in a game, the kids were fully absorbed- they weren't fighting, hungry, nothing was hurting (even when they actually fell), they weren't cold, and the rain made no difference. 

And after they were done, they were hungry and happy. Pizza and cake and call it a really nice day.

As adults, we don't really play those games anymore (though I paid an adult - and I'm not complaining! - a pretty penny to do so with my kids). The few times I've participated in tag- even of the simplest variety - it's been immensely appreciated and, though tiring, it's hard to say no fun. So maybe it's worth trying again. Or maybe dancing, apropos the last post, is a good grown-up substitute.

I discovered grown up games in Berlin, where I learned a few great card games and spent many nights - for much of the night - sipping wine or beer and playing. Skat or doppelkopf were favorites, variations on bridge (or vice versa?), but even the simple game of canasta was  fun.

It was a great way to be together without talking about all the regular stuff- to do something together, and to appreciate  talents of friends that are not always readily apparent. 

I also love that cards can be played easily among the generations- not just older people with older people, but kids with grandparents and everything in between. Once you get the rules, cleverness quickly rivals experience.

It's the same with chess. I used to marvel at how little kids could possibly be so good until someone told me that the reason children are not as good as we are at most things is not because of their lack of brain power, but their lack of experience in the world. With chess- there are a limited number of rules and once you master them, grown ups (at least normal ones, not of the chess master variety) have an equal chance to kids.

Games are really social and educational, and many people are increasingly looking to them as keys to better learning and societies. I appreciate that children and adults learn a great deal from play- about both the world and objects, and each other. And they are fun- it's such a great combination.

Dancing - a lesson from Cuba

Sort of depressing to read the recent news, especially in light of my last post on hope. 

But I'm overdue to write a much more light hearted blog about my recent trip to Cuba and dance- something about which the people there know a lot - and something for which I am, frivolous aside, very very grateful. 

I went to Cuba on an Ambassadors mission with JDC in early April. It was a wonderful trip- great people, beautiful weather and stops, and fascinating stories to contemplate.

Someone remarked that Cubans are the happiest poor people she'd ever seen. That might sound like a crude caricature, but there's something to it. 

We had a chance to visit the Jewish community and were blown away by the wry mix of humor and realism of community leaders (the way they poked gentle fun at the "pin" obsession in Jewish donor circles was memorable, as was their pleasant ironic reflection on their own "schnurring"- a performative self contradiction). They were grateful but with comfortable pride. When questioned about what she would dream of for the future, Adele, the longtime head of the main Patronata synagogue, said she'd like others in Cuba to have some of the same opportunities that the Jewish community has been lucky enough to enjoy thanks to visitors who care, like ourselves, and to the ongoing support of the JDC. 

It was also great to see Cuban ingenuity at work. People have to figure out how to get by on less than enough, and they do so in incredible ways- innovating, squeezing and "borrowing": repurposing newspaper to wrap gifts, using emptied bottles to make art, using every part of everything- animals at the butcher's table (a slab of stone with raw meat, no refrigeration), every leaf at the cigar factory....

It mirrored the way Cubans seemed to repair their houses: without funds for overdue fundamental structural work but instead in a patchwork style that somehow, mostly, did the trick, even if it leaves the once magnificent Havana a shadow of its former self.

I bought a few pairs of earrings and marveled at the fanciful repurposing of the natural materials. One pair is a flat wooden flower with a round wooden bead, painted red, in the middle. Another uses beautiful red (poisonous- who says I'm not living dangerous) seeds strung together in a circle, and the third - small colored shells hung in interlocking circles together. Red was in- my favorite color.

And finally, it was impossible not to notice the dance. Music was all over for us tourists- but that felt authentic. It was playing until very late in the night in the bar (where at the famous Floridita, I saw the same two singers performing- one with a most memorable tragic face, and the other a happy one), at the poolside, in the synagogue (though the tunes for Friday night services were oddly off key, a strange reminder that they have not had much training in spite of what felt otherwise fluent and smooth). 

At Havdalah, marking the end of Shabbat on Saturday night, each age group from teenagers, to the middle aged contingent, to seniors- showed us their moves. That was their way of demonstrating joy, of celebrating, of showing off, of being together. 

It was fabulous ... and catching. I had forgotten how much I like to dance (with the notable pleasant exception of a recent half hour at a 40th birthday, which blew the more ubiquitous talking parties out of the water). Cuba was contagious.

Two days ago I wore the shell earrings for the first time. Yes, they fell apart and I had to keep hooking pieces back on to the main frame. But to my surprise, they did something else too. As I walked, the small shells jangled together lightly; they made music. I picked my daughter up close so she could listen - the music was like a reminder, a secret between me and Cuba and whomever was very near.

Hope vs Hope

The NYTimes article I quoted in the last post about fruitless hope and its ill-effects made me want to distinguish that sentiment from something else that also goes under the title of hope.

I remember having lunch about six years ago with a German diplomat and friend. He was very skeptical about the latest plans for Mid East peace and suggested people were basically giving lip service to something that they were not planning to do anything to realize.

I was actually very taken aback. To me, the talking points according to which I was working still had a significant kernel of substance.

It was important for me to explain that neither I nor anyone I knew were just biding time with excuses. In fact, none of us would still be involved if there were actually no trajectory - realistic even if difficult - that would lead to peace.

Yes, it was unlikely that xx and yy would happen making zz concessions possible, and aa outcomes probable. Nevertheless it was that path to which we were totally committed and doing what was in our power to realize. And we needed friends like him on board since any real move forward would require understanding and concessions on both side, and our credibility with the other was limited.

Maybe he had been in the field too long, but I'm not sure I convinced him of anything other than my own naïveté.

And now, having been in the world a few years longer, I  also wonder myself. I wonder about how realistic I was, how clearly I was seeing.

But I don't wonder about the principle. "Hope" in this constellation, meant a possible if not probable way forward that was better than the present situation. That sort of hope, I retain, is totally crucial. It's not all that different from attainable dreams, inspired ideas or innovations.

It is different from the "hope" in the NYTimes because it is not a way of seeing the present (gratitude is that), but rather of contemplating the many possibilities of the future and picking a best.

Gratitude vs Hope

I just read a hard-hitting and disturbing piece called "Abandon (Nearly) all Hope" http://mobile.nytimes.com/blogs/opinionator/2014/04/19/abandon-nearly-all-hope/ and had a moment to contemplate the vast differences between gratitude and hope, and also between two different types of hope.

The author of the article, a professor at The New School, Simon Critchley, ruminates on the nature of foolhardy hope, hope in the face of truth, as a method of ignoring reality, and describes grim consequences in classical literature of its effects (the Melian people are killed and enslaved as they hope beyond hope for salvation that does not come).

Such hope- and Critchley claims, with an eye toward the Easter holiday, that religious hope is generally of this variant- is not only self-delusional and foolhardy, but also de-motivates possible, positive, action. Real action must be based on a solid understanding of the here-and-now and of real possibilities for change.

The article rang an important note for me as I feel when faced with challenges of our world today (environmental degradation, for one) - people either have a tendency to ignore altogether or hope vainly. (Another interesting article this weekend highlighted a man in the UK who has become very critical of the quick fixes that cannot possibly really fix the big problem but that are nonetheless offered to followers of the movement as if hey could, and therefore bound to end in a sort of hard crash landing for anyone who truly heeds them.)

On the other hand, hating things and complaining about them, even if it is laudable to be honest with oneself and others, doesn't solve any problems either (that was of course the critique of the somewhat nihilist ex- environmentalist).

Gratitude in the way I've become interested in, is not an opposite, but maybe something of an alternative. It is about looking at the world with open, honest eyes and identifying what is good, what has been accomplished (so easy to forget across generations), and what must at all costs be preserved. What is it that is worth fighting for, actually?

I have thoughts on the importance of another kind of hope as well... For next time. Curious if anyone has thoughts on this.

Dads who cook

It was sweet when it was just the two of us, now that we have kids, it's lifesaving:  Men who cook.

Preparing food and eating is such a major part of life- timewise and for the share of mental space it takes.

I like cooking sometimes, I manage to do it often, but there are times- many- when I just can't. Takeout is one answer, but it's nice, and healthy, to have another. 

When I can't stand the taste of my own food anymore, "dad's" food, enjoyed at home, beats the best chefs in my book.

I'm so appreciative that my husband learned how to cook and that he chooses to do so. And while I give him lots of credit for doing so, I'm grateful that we live in a society where, if it's not quite normative to have a man cooking regularly, it is at very least totally acceptable and often appreciated as something positive.

We went to a Seder at dear friend's house where the husband also shares in the cooking, and sometimes does the lion's share. I want to bet that every woman, every person whose partner is a man who cooks- shares my gratitude.

Freedom?

Passover is the ultimate holiday of gratitude. 

It took me a long time to get it, but it seems so obvious now. 

When I was a kid, we read the Maxwell House Hagaddah and Seders seemed  interminable and almost punishing. It was fine when my turn came to read out loud, and my grandma's cooking was good, but the Seder as a whole felt like something we were obligated to go through. The text pontificated endlessly on the four sons and quoted various rabbis discussing something I could never focus upon and about which I have no idea even today. 

We never deviated from the text, we never talked personally about anything, we never made a connection between the Seder and our lives. Not surprisingly, I never had a sense that it actually spoke deeply to anyone at the table- beyond, at least, a firm conviction that if this is what Jews had to read at Passover, then we darn well were going to read every last word before so much as touching our lips to the waiting matzo ball soup. 

Later, Seders were quaint, tasty, pleasant opportunities to be with friends, occasionally even places for interesting political expressions- but never actually personally meaningful.

And then one year, It clicked for me. I'm not sure when exactly, but it makes sense that it  coincided approximately with me having my own kids and thinking about the turning of generations. I think it also happened around the time that I hosted a Seder myself instead of just passively going along with the way someone else chose to do it. 

The revelation for me was that the Seder is an effort to solve a tremendous human problem: that it is impossible to effectively transmit the experiences and lessons of one generation to the next.   

Slavery is something that we haven't personally experienced, but it was the experience of Jews living thousands of years ago (and making it more poignant still, of many others, even today). How can we value freedom when we don't know what it means to live without it? How can we stand up for it if we don't understand what a privilege it is in the first place?

The Passover Seder to me should be a reenactment of the slavery to freedom experience. Just as when we see a good movie or read a good book-- our ability to understand in a visceral way is strengthened, so too the Seder should act as a sort of superimposed physical reminder of what it is that we have today in our freedom. I'm fascinated by teaching that incorporates reenactment a of history for the same reason, or games that have people immersing themselves in completely different roles. But this is special because it is an annual ritualized reminder, because it uses food, because it involves different generations of the same family. Incidentally, I have also come to appreciate the importance if having kids at the table with their questions and interest in understanding the bottom line.

The most fitting part of the ritual to me is the instruction to lean rather than sit up straight. I can't wait for the day when I let my kids eat sitting or lying down on the floor, cozy.

For me, Passpver is really about appreciating what we have, knowing to value it.

Today my son asked me what all the elevated praising God rhetoric means- he didn't realate. This is coming from someone not too religious- I said the the praise of God is really just the effort to direct that gratitude and personify the recipient. 

Today, the question also came up of what freedom and slavery really are, a level deeper. And I want to give that some more time. Here are some of the questions I have: is freedom the ability to work at all, to earn money? To work for a living wage? To enjoy time off? To make ones own ultimate decisions (but aren't all decisions prefaced on context, so that if I have to work today or starve, how different is the to having to work for fear of punishment)? Who are the people who are not free about whom we think? When are we free vs not free? 

Thinking about security on the 20th anniversary of the Genocide in Rwanda

I wrote a short post from Cuba on Monday about something so fundamental to our ability to live and plan beyond the moment: our most basic dependence on security. But my internet card must have run out before I finished, so I'm adding my two cents late.

Monday was the international commemoration of the genocide in Rwanda, which started 20 years ago. The well known facts center around a mass and very brutal murder of Tutsis over a 100-day period-- somewhere from 500,000 to 1 million people, men, women and children, according to Wikipedia; numbers are not confirmed.

Propaganda definitely preemted and accompanied the genocide, but the sheer brutality and speed of the mass murders were shocking. Most of them were perpetrated hand-to-hand, and stand as disturbing and very contemporary testament to the possibility of completely shutting down any sense of human empathy.

A lot has been written and said on genocide by some incredible people whom I have had the honor of knowing a little, and it seems like there is still much more to understand and come to terms with even today.

My objective with this post is to remind myself how very lucky I am to live in a country where that fundamental security is in place, and how that shoud not be taken for granted and is still not a given in many parts of the world.

What are the hallmarks of the sort of security I mean here? I'm not talking of living free from crime, or personal tragedies, or even stock market fluctuation - all of which can be personally momentous in the worst ways. I mean a more overarching societal security - the relative confidence that there is no war, the individual bad behavior may be unjustly handled, but mass violent crime will be dealt with severely, and that even non-violent crime, though it may persist for a time, will ultimately, on one real day that we are likely to see, be subject to a more just reckoning.

In Cuba, we heard about how most people don't put money in banks. What if there is political change? No one knows what would happen next. What if withdrawals would be limited to a small minimum per day, if inflation happened and currency were devalued, or if fund were taxed massively from one day to the next or even nationalized? On a less existential level, this economic uncertainty also creates very fundamental insecurities that can paralyze action.

It's true that even with a great deal of lived security, I have inherited some collective sense of fear. Perhaps everything is different from how it looks after all, maybe the stability I feel will still prove itself a mirage. Rabid Antisemitism, a meteor, food insecurity- things could change. Or ruining the environment for good- that's a very realistic one. It's hard not to notice the many recent popular films thematize these underlying catastrophic possibilities because they play to our deepest fears.

But the fact is that I've lived 40 years with this fundamental security already and that there are no signs I can divine now of radical departure, even if we allow that the future is, by definition, always open....

Maybe what I am really writing about is not truly a fundamental societal security- perhaps that is putting the bar too high. But a security great enough to create inner peace that enables a person to focus on any and all other things to be accomplished. I'm grateful for that.

Security

April 7 is the official day to commemorate the genocide in Rwanda. It's a moment to step back to mourn losses of that specific, brutal conflict, and to marvel again at the remarkable ability of people to turn against their neighbors, to ignore what I believe is an inborn human instinct of empathy for others and revert instead to our most brutal state.

I enjoy a great deal of security, certainly relative to many other parts of the world. That is the case even with problems of gun violence, strongly perceived inequality and a prison system that badly needs reform. 

There is a certain wonderful predictability about life that is based on an understanding of what the risks and rewards are of certain behaviors and a lack of existential fear - at least the type that emanates from a force in power- government or otherwise.

Sometimes I feel like it could all be a grand illusion- go up in smoke at any moment, revealing a much more brutal reality. And watchfulness can't be bad. But realistically, I think it is just that. And that's good- very good.

Phoneless conversations

These days, you've got to be grateful when you have a fully phone-free conversation: resisting the urge to check email, calendars, to do "research."

I recently participated in a full 2 hour conversation on a very intense topic and a participant said the beat part of it was the absence of mobile devices.

How do you deal with the pop-up phenomenon. Explicitly I think. That's what I get at home, and maybe because I'm guilt-addicted... But it feels right. It's annoying and offensive. An addictive part of me I expect friends and family to call out.

And if it needs a diplomatic treatment- I've seen humor go a long way. Ah hum.. I'm over here... Straight ahead.

What's the antidote to this negative phenomenon? A lot of people are looking for that. On the Jewish circuit, it's Shabbat. On the environmental one, Nature. Culinary, Cooking (but aren't all the best recipes online!?) or maybe enjoying a good meal together. On the travel circuit, Cuba?!

And what's the opposite of the phone- free conversation? The eye-contact-blocking iPad meal. Check out this picture. I was actually blown away...

 

Pre-k

Our family is so lucky to have had professionals involved in rearing our children. I'm thrilled that it looks like many other New Yorkers will get that chance too. I definitely believe "it takes a village" - thanks Hillary Clinton.

I was thrilled this piece appeared in chalkbeat today.

http://ny.chalkbeat.org/2014/03/20/what-my-family-got-out-of-daycare-that-public-pre-k-could-provide/

Daycare

Excited about the pre-K movement and the possibility that others will enjoy early childhood care as we have.

I think parents should be vocal about what they want and need.

Published this piece in Chalkbeat on the topic:

http://ny.chalkbeat.org/2014/03/20/what-my-family-got-out-of-daycare-that-public-pre-k-could-provide/

Water

In my house, it's warm and plentiful, coming from a big showerhead in a strong, steady stream.

Running hot water is very easy to take for granted. Today I felt chilly, and took note for a moment.

I thought about whether the majority of people in the world enjoy warm running water on demand.

Certainly not.

I thought about whether everyone on the North American continent did - probably.

How about in Bosnia, in the small towns outside Sarajevo -- maybe?

In rural China -- mostly no? Actually I have no idea.

In rural Africa -- definitely no.

I realize in spite of being reasonably well traveled, marginally smart, and interested in global affairs, I honestly have no idea about these answers. I'm making it up.

It's amazing to have no idea about the conditions under which most people live, their access to water - such a fundamental part of life.

Seeing that water running without end seemed quite extraordinary, an amazing feat of civilization, infrastructure, recycling, nature, sewage control, continual planning, filtering, engineering. All the people involved, all the pipes, all the pressure, all the drains.

Gotta enjoy that shower a little more.

Breast cancer

I went to a discussion tonight that focused on the way breast cancer is viewed in Eastern Europe and in the former Yugoslavia. Women who get sick are stigmatized. It's not uncommon for their husbands to divorce them, their neighbors to refuse to touch them.

Apparently it's reminiscent of the United States some 40 years ago, before I have memories, when breast cancer was prevalent, but not spoken about and women suffered largely in silence and without nearly the range of treatment options we have today. 

The event focused on Susan G Komen,  which over that arc of decades has truly revolutionized the openness with which cancer is viewed. It looked at work that JDC is doing overseas.

Having had my mother suffer from cancer recently, and whose struggles were hard enough even with the kindness of family and strangers, and an aunt who died after five years of illness before I was born, I feel grateful to be living now, and here.

The program director in Bosnia is making measurable strides - you can see in very concrete ways the impact of education and support that she is almost single handedly leading, on the lives of countless individuals and on the society as a whole. I'm grateful to run into people like her too.

No agendas

New York gives off a very agenda'ed vibe. It's hard to meet someone without feeling they have an ulterior motive, or without having one oneself.

In fundraising that's obvious, though the best meetings are definitely ones that transcend the agenda to find real common ground. And I feel lucky to work with quite a number of people I like immensely. Those are the perfect intersections of work and pleasure - the moments when I'm so grateful for my job - and they are  deserving of a dedicated post.

At work itself, with colleagues I like, it's nearly impossible to have the non-agenda'ed take precedence over the work agenda for more than a few minutes. We can start with a quick personal check in, and linger there for a few moments, but when deadlines and emails are pressing, we've got to move on. The whole process creates the slightly negative after effect, as if it were all chit chat. In fact, with greater perspective - from the balcony, as they say - we know it's actually the other way around. The extra calls and emails and meetings pale in comparison to the personal connects.

But even meetings that have no immediate connection to work can feel agenda'ed. What do I want to get out of this? What about the other person? I've had the thoughts infringe on the most personal- friends, even my husband and kids. That's clearly destructive.

And so I am grateful today for those rare and prized non agenda'ed moments, and eager to increase them in my life.

Voting

There are lots of problems with the United States system of voting and they've been increasing in recent years. Still when I look at what is happening during these days I have to say how grateful I am that voting is nonmilitary.

That seems like a ridiculous thing to say.

The fact is that rank corruption and intimidation during elections happen regularly. It's outrageous, but it is rarely met with the outrage it deserves.

Why?

Because there is so much going on we don't have time to be outraged? Because we can't do anything about it anyway? Because our belief in the purity of our system is compromised, and we don't want to stand in a glass house throwing stones?

All true, and yet if we don't nurture the ideal, things can only get worse. More outrageous.

And if we don't stop and realize how fragile the gains of our democracy are and how quickly things can turn, we are taking them for granted.

Little hands

Always remember how my longtime boss would sometimes speak about missing those little hands. He had several kids, now grown up, and told me that he missed holding their little hands on the way to school, on the train, in the park.

That somehow sticks with me. I think about it often and feel very very grateful when I am holding one.

For the quiet

Last night I spent the evening talking and listening. It was a fascinating meeting with people I can learn from- deserving of its own special post.

But tonight I'm home, everyone is long ago in bed, and as I think about this post, I can't help noticing the quiet.

We are in the city, so quiet is not absolute  as it is in the country, where it is associated for me with good smells, deep dark nights. 

Even so, if I am still now, I can hear myself breath lightly. And there is a sense of well being, knowing that there are people nearby, in fact all over, under, to each side of this building, and down below, but right here I'm quiet alone.

What a luxury to have quiet. To breath deeply. To have a moment that is not filled.

What does quiet mean? An absence of not only sound, but adverse conditions.

I've read stories of war and the relentless noise. The noises are loud, terrible, unpredictable. The quiet is never real, just waiting for more.

And I know about more harmless noises. The screech of babies wailing. The dizzying buzz when people oversaturation happens, sometimes at small parties or in crowded restaurants. The traffic noise-especially on a crowded street during a big city rain. 

Having quiet means a place to be alone. How fortunate. I've seen families of four living in one room and read about much worse. How wonderful to have spaces and times alone.

Very very grateful

Sometimes I wonder why there is so much complacency about so much (please tell me I'm wrong here and there isn't as much as I think). And when things are going wrong, outrageously wrong, the vast majority of people who actually have a stake so often keep quiet- watching their rights being whittled away, or the rights of others.

Why?

Maybe it's because there is a lack of confidence in what we have that is good. We just don't talk about it enough. We only know how to complain.

But a strong sense of activism comes not only or even primarily from outrage, but from a passionate sense of what is good and right, what is too be desired and also protected.

So I thought I'd try to write about things for which I am grateful. Little things and big ones.

And if being grateful makes you happier - as I've read and believe - well that is a real added bonus!