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It's been nearly 10 years since I eagerly greeted the arrival of May as the start of the official countdown to the end of a semester. Can you say home stretch? It certainly feels like it, in spite of the mountain of work that will fill many a lonely, caffeine-filled night in its quest for completion before I can waltz off campus for a much-needed summer break. Perhaps I'll even catapult my textbooks giddily into the air in tribute to the quintessential "school's out" shot from just about every teen movie ever made? Then, in September, I can recreate the ubiquitous "back to school" montage used in every other teen movie (Grease 2, anyone?). Um... perhaps not.
Can you say Spring Fever? That's what happens when the sun finally shows itself after a something like 40 days of rain over a two-month period. Even my tiny umbrella collective was threatening to strike, used and abused to their very limit. Of course, just as the first warm, sunny weekend of the season lands in our laps, I'll be hopping on a plane out of here tomorrow. Great timing.
Well, I hope this sunny weekend I'll be missing is only the first of many gorgeous weekends I'll get to enjoy, homework-free, in the coming weeks as I'm finally given the chance to explore and better acquaint myself with the great outdoors of this glorious new city of mine. Without getting soaked.
Thanks to Sunday's Las Vegas Review Journal for running a wonderful article about my grandmother as part of a series (Stories of Survival) profiling Holocaust survivors.
You can click on the main page to read the other fascinating profiles as well.
Thanks, DailyKos, for summing things up for us so nicely:
"Yesterday, the nation was abuzz over the flurry of surprise staff announcements... This is a huge shake-up! It will re-invigorate the White House!But this isn't change. This is musical chairs.
It's a choreographed dance where staffer X moves from point A to point B while staffer Y moves from point B to point A... As Josh Marshall opines, where are the new faces? There will never be new faces. Why?
Because Bush. Doesn't. Do. Change. The fact is that the White House 'shake-up' is aimed at providing the media and the public an illusion of change.
The morning after, Rove is still Bush's top advisor (only now with more free time to play dirty politics), Rumsfeld is still our incompetent Secretary of Defense, failed Michael Chertoff is still head of Homeland Security...
For Bush, the more things (appear) to change, the more they remain the same."
In other words, so long, McClellan! Welcome, identical newly-briefed-on-how-to-lie-to-the-media-and-just-about-everyone-else, truthful-answer-avoiding-robot! We're so glad you could join the fun.
Then, today, over at Think Progress, there was this delicious notion:
"Last night, MSNBC’s David Shuster took a look at recent court filings by special prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald and suggests that Karl Rove is likely to be indicted.
Head over to Think Progress to read Shuster's key points (or follow a link to watch the MSNBC report). Fascinating!
I only wish I could be a reporter covering the trial(s), a first-hand witness to the punishment of misdeeds against myself and my fellow citizens. Maybe Rove, Libby, Abramoff, DeLay, Cunningham, Ryan, et al. can share a dank, cement-walled cell and commiserate for years on how they were singled out and attacked by the evil lefties solely because of their Christian beliefs? (Something DeLay actually had the nerve to suggest recently.)
I'll tell you something, I'm a Jew and an agnostic and yet I'm more of a Christian in my behavior and actions than any of these Bible-toting asses. "Tricky Dick" Nixon comes off like Saint Richard compared with Bush's gang of thugs.
And speaking of Nixon, my Daily Show: America calendar for today provides the best explanation yet for how he got his nickname: "Nixon was regarded as an agile and "tricky" political opponent. Also, he was a dick."
Happy Friday!
I really enjoyed Google's banner today, a tribute to one of my favorite artists, Joan Miro, on his birthdate:
I'm no art expert and truthfully, know very little about the subject except that there are a few artists whose work I very much enjoy: Miro, Magritte, Chagall. I once lived with a sexually-ambiguous, unintentionally butch roommate who was obsessed with Kandinsky and, hence, subjected me to an apartment full of stark geometric prints. Blech. Another troubled roommate just adored her soft, romantic Van Gogh prints framed all in gold. Let's just say I'm very happy I live alone now, amidst my budding collection of authentic Cuban artwork (thanks to my sister's travels) and free to indulge my endless obsession with maps.
The receptionist at my office has been out for 2 weeks with a bleeding ulcer. (In other news, I somewhat abruptly quit my job at said office the other day, a development on which I will elaborate later.)
In the absence of our seasoned receptionist, we have a pleasant young temp who answers the phones cheerily and only leaves the desk on those occasions when her bladder threatens grave damage by means of violent explosion.
Being that she's only here until the real receptionist can get out of bed without requiring a morphine drip, our temp is not expected to do much other than answer the phones, which can go extended periods without ringing. So on her first day, I, taking pity, informed her she may feel free to read a book/newspaper/magazine, surf the net, balance her checkbook or do whatever the hell she wants to pass the time she's stuck in that chair like one of Madame Tussaud's wax figures.
So what does she do?
She sits there, hands clasped on the desk in front of her like a proud kindergartener in a school photo, staring straight ahead and smiling at people as they walk by. For hours. And hours.
Now, I've never been one to pass up an opportunity for unabashed staring into space over lengthy periods of time. But please, temporary receptionist! You're making my head hurt from the magnitude of my uneasiness toward your prolonged vegetative state. Are you rehearsing your audition for mime school?
Please turn to that computer screen and while away the hours emailing your pals, surfing random left-leaning blogs or posting messages on Johnny Depp fan sites. Go ahead, scan Missed Connections to see if anyone noticed you on the morning commute. Take that book on Careers in Theatre out of your bag and devour to your heart's delight. At the very least, pick up the phone and chatter mindlessly with friends about yoga or nail polish or that nutcase Moussaoui, whose name is kind of fun to say. Anything to let us know you haven't expired in that chair.
And, for Christ's sake, please enjoy the full 60 minutes allotted to you for lunch and stop making us all incredibly sad for you by returning to your mind-numbingly dull post after only 20 minutes! Really, what the hell's happened to the work ethic in this country?!
Oh, and a happy East-Over to everyone.
Reno was great and I returned to a houseguest (the ever-amusing Josh), a truckload of writing assignments to catch up on and a possible new job. Add to that this week's Passover festivities (including a visit from my sister) and I am one busy chica.
My grandmother was absolutely brilliant in her speaking engagement and it was incredible to witness how the students reacted to her, asking all sorts of questions (some truly great, as I'll explain) and clearly displaying their reverence.
One student in particular, a black girl of about 13, asked a question to the effect of "After everything you went through being persecuted for being Jewish, did you support the black civil rights movement of the 1960s?"
First of all, what an awesome question for a teenager to ask, especially considering that, in her 40-minute speech, Lida made no mention of the 60s except to say that was when she emigrated to the U.S.
Lida responded, in essence, that most Jews, herself included, were behind the civil rights movement and other struggles for equality. This point was driven home for me in a fascinating Vanity Fair piece about the incisive attorney Clarence Jones, adviser and confidante to Martin Luther King, Jr. during the 60s.
Jones helped draft the "I Have a Dream" speech, had his phone tapped by the Feds for helping organize the March on Washington and believes strongly to this day that MLK's assassination was government-backed.
One thing the article noted was MLK's recognition and admiration of Jews, a number of whom (at least in this country) supported his mission. He and the Southern Christian Leadership Conference received generous donations from several prominent Jews, many of whom were still struggling to cope with the shitstorm that rained down on their own lives 20 years earlier. They knew what it was liked to be loathed, bullied, dreaded and persecuted simply because of their ethnicity. Many Jews stood in solidarity with black Americans who were suffering their own type of Holocaust in the 60s.
Anyway, I've always been interested in the parallels between the struggles of Jews and blacks in America and the world, so the girl's question (and the article I just happened to begin reading on the plane) provoked a lot of thought.
Meanwhile, after the conference, students were each given a copy of Holocaust survivor Gerda Weissman Klein's beautiful memoir, All But My Life, a book I've mentioned here before. Some asked my grandmother why she didn't share her own gripping story by writing a book herself. She replied that she'd prefer it written after her death, as a way to ensure her legacy, and then spoke of how she's been collaborating on the story with her granddaughter (she gestured in my direction), "the writer in the family."
So I guess my calling has been established. I am proud to answer it. I only hope I have many more years to ask the important questions before my grandmother (and other survivors) are silenced.
And, because some of you have asked, here's a photo of Grandma (accepting flowers from conference organizers):
You were my first digital camera and I cherished you for myriad reasons, primarily because of how I obtained you. You were a 30th birthday present from my darling NYC cousins, presented to me (quite unexpectedly) over a sumptuous feast at the Upper West Side Ruby Foo's.
I adored your sleek body and your instant focus and zoom. I loved your automatic shut-off for those times when I just took too friggin' long to take the damn photo. I loved the way people cooed over you, before the market became saturated with smaller, cuter, sleeker models. I'll admit, were it not for my good fortune in receiving you as a gift, I'd have eventually bought myself a smaller, cheaper (and likely inferior) camera. But you were designed by F.A. Porsche people and lovingly chosen by my camera-store-owning cousin and so I cherished you.
Sadly, despite the gentle care I took of you, your health has taken a turn for the worse in recent days and I must begin seeking out your replacement. You've given me nearly five great years and many fantastic photos, little Finepix. Thanks for the memories.
So that leaves me to turn to my readers for recommendations. I'm not a pro-photographer wannabe; I just want something simple and relatively inexpensive that takes sharp, clear photos. Any suggestions?
Unfortunately for my wallet, I've decided the iPod must also go. It still works just fine, but honestly, I was never as in love with it as I was with my Creative Labs MP3 player from back in the day. The shuffle feature (which I use frequently) on my aging, 3rd-generation iPod is positively pathetic. It seems to think I only want to hear 500 of the 3,000+ songs I have stored on it and thus, plays the same shit over and over. Buh-bye!
Plus, I am an eternal FM radio junkie, fully recognizing how dreadful it has become and in spite of its sad, steep decline in recent years. Alas, iPod, you have no built-in FM tuner, leaving me no choice but to buy a separate unit to shlep around if I want to listen to NPR or KFOG instead of my own CDs. And, as most iPod users are well-aware, your earbuds leave much to be desired. So... buh-bye, iPod!
I'm returning to Creative Labs for my new player, one with (most importantly) a built-in FM tuner and (hopefully) better shuffle capability. I justify the expense by the simple fact that the MP3 player is something I use daily, walking both directions from work, or on the train to school, or at the gym (when not swimming, of course), or on the bus. I use it at home. I use it at work. I use it on the dozen or so road-trips and flights I take each year. I use it more than just about anything I own that's not a part of my anatomy.
And so the iPod makes its final voyage tonight, accompanying me on a brief flight to Reno, where I'm off to witness my remarkable grandmother serve as keynote speaker at another conference on Holocaust Education and to joyously commemorate my brother's 30th birthday with food, drink and poker chips.
P.S. Holy shit, my little brother is 30. He's all growns-up. When did that happen?
