Only In America
That knee-jerk patriotism was taken away from my generation in our youth. But the world teaches us about America. In Print
Father
My Dad has been dead for almost 20 years. That sounds shocking, even to me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about him, especially this last year. Father figured prominently into my show Big Words. So here’s that piece, for Father’s Day. In Print
Star Stud
I’ve come back to this very romantic piece for Valentine’s Day. Does the heart good–eh? It can be slightly rough on the other parts of the anatomy, though.
Manhattan Christmas
I’m bringing this post back for Christmas week. I hope you enjoy the food, the drink, a few presents and most importantly–one another. We’re having the rare bit of snow and quiet it brings to this sometimes crazy time of year is a beautiful gift.
Sometimes we assume we know what’s going on. Sometimes we assume everyone knows what’s going on. And you know what they say about “assume?” But somewhere beneath it all it’s possible to find the spirit of Christmas.
What Is Chanukah All About?
Happy Chanukah everybody! For those of you who think Chanukah is just an excuse for Jewish kids to get presents–well, not really, although presents are nice. Chanukah celebrates an interesting bit of history and of course, celebrates winter light–always precious.
I took a little journey through the Chanukahs of my childhood. First we’d light the candles and sing songs in a mixture of English, Yiddish, and German. We had a good meal–brisket and latkes. We opened presents (mostly socks and pajamas.) Then we’d have the fiercely competitive dreidel game (for poker chips or nuts-in-the-shell.) When my Mother got bored, she would start to eat her reserve, which was the beginning of the end.
For all of you who need a little course in dreidel, there is a Hebrew letter on each side of the dreidel (a top made of wood or plastic. I never made the ubliquitous clay dreidel.) The player spins the dreidel and if it falls with the Gimmel up, the player wins the whole pot. If the Hay is up, player takes half the pot. If the Nun is up, player takes nothing and if the Shin is up, player puts 2 in. Everyone antes up again and another player has a turn. The letters stand for the phrase nes gadol hayah sham, a great miracle happened there. The miracle was that the small amount of oil found for the eternal light in the temple lasted eight days until more could be refined. Religiously sanctioned gambling–how fun is that.
Allspice
Allspice. All the time.
The slick magazine-version of my life longs for it.
Or is that just the surface,
hiding long restless hours in torpid poses
on white silk, perfect boredom pouting my lips,
airy laughter and animated wineglass-clink?
My bones long for earth, mattresses, floors,
something solid to hold them up.
They never wanted to get up this morning
but my good-for-me brain said “must.”
Now, sodden mind craves newsprint in rebellion.
Distraction it’s middle name.
The clash of fantasy and comfort’s cling ebbs and flows.
Sometimes I’m content—done ok haven’t I?
Allspice? or all plain? More fear? Or more folly?
I made conservative choices, chalking them up.
And what did I conserve? May as well have danced wildly.
At least a little bit.
I’ve found my fancy for the plain.
Is that self-knowledge and acceptance?
Or atrophy and small living?
That “other hand” stirs so many colors it can’t remember what to paint.
But the splash of pumpkin orange is perfect in itself.
Allspice? A quandary, isn’t it?
Sugar and Spice
This is my holiday greeting this year–a celebration of the sweet spices that find their way into so many winter treats. Happy nutmeg, allspice, ginger, cinnamon, clove and anise. These spices go so well with sugar, chocolate, red wine, conversation and coffee. Stay sweet.
Musings on Freedom
My Father always presides at the Passover Seder in my head. He would remind us that this is our annual opportunity to leave the petty slaveries we create or allow behind us and to be and live our best—a good lesson, whatever your tradition. On Passover we tell the story of the 4 generations of children– the wise, the wicked, the simple and the ignorant–and how to pass along our heritage to each of them. We can usually find a piece of our self in each story.