The Writing on the Wall

Israel experienced two earthquakes last week, and luckily - despite the shoddy quality level of constuction in many cities - no one was hurt and no property was damaged.

Some may argue that this is the Higher Power's way of sending us a message, that all is not right with our actions and with the legacy we are creating. This is not a new invention, the Torah states that if we Jews deserve to be on the land of Israel, the land and its people will be blessed, and the rain will fall at the proper time. If, however, we have overstayed our welcome, the land will literally "evict" us.

The rain, in fact, has not come, and for the past several years running, Israel faces a drought situation.

No worries with the eviction notice, our Prime Minister has already pledged to give away land, and most notably Jerusalem, even while his authority teeters on the brink of getting his ass kicked out of office, and into jail.

So why would G-d be angry?

Could it be that bombings upon the residents of Sderot worsen exponentially, and the government has attempted nothing to protect them from our enemies? We grin like the Cheshire Cat, now that a major international terrorist has been removed, but we in Israel and Jews around the world have only begun to feel the reprocussions.

Could it be the fact that the number of families living in poverty has risen significantly in the last two years, with no viable economic solution to alieve the suffering of these children? The poorest of all cities in Israel, Jerusalem is currently led by the Ultra-Orthodox anti-Zionist Mayor, Uri Lupolianski. The Mayor claims that he was "forced" to get involved and grant special political and economic favors to his Ultra Orthodox community, and yet these families do not seem to benefit from his special treatment.

Could it be the blatant evidence of corruption that surrounds Olmert and his entire coaltion; and the inability for anyone to actually be a man (or a woman) and say " I screwed up, I am taking my marbles and my giant ego home and letting someone else try." Forget for a moment the cowardice of the Labour Party, or the vascilation of the Shas party, who are waiting for "real proof" that Olmert will act against their core values. Perhaps Rav Ovadia Yosef will wait until Jerusalem becomes the capital of Bush's Palestine, and we Jews are floating in our rafts in the sea.

AB Yehoshua, an outspoken Leftist Israeli author, stated this week that he does not believe in the Two-State solution, because quite simply, Jews and Arabs do not share the same culture, language or value system. Dividing up this small country and giving over chunks to the Palestinians only gives them more area from which to launch their attacks.

How many days have the kidnapped soldiers been taken, with no word of their health or whereabouts?! It's OK, by the time they come home ( if they ever come home) we will have destroyed the land so much through pollution, pesticides and neglect, that no one will be able to breathe the air, drink the water or eat the food.

We elected these politicians who care only about their own acquistion and maintenance of power, and in a way we deserve what we get. Until we citizens choose to rise up and demand a revolution, maybe we should start packing.

But pack wisely, the raft doesn't hold much.

Oprah and the Politics of Race

At a minimum personal worth of $40 billion a year, she sneezes near a book and it immediately becomes a best seller. Even if the author has plagiarized. She gives away cars and donates money for the unfortunate and uneducated all over the world. She is the poster child for "Who says you have to get married and have children?"

Pretty terrific for a woman who got her start in television on the local news, as an overweight, uncharismatic weather girl.

In the Democratic Presidential race, Oprah had a dilemma: does she support the token woman or the token black? And the winner is Barack Obama.

I give Obama credit for his drive and his dynamic speaking style. He and his young pretty wife make quite a photo opportunity, and Bill Cosby would be proud at the strides that a man of color has made in the White world. Even if it is the Democratic party.

However, what Barack Obama lacks is experience, particularly in the international realm. Just because he can excite an audience with his evangelical style, does not mean that he has enough bruises from politics to maneuver the complex relationships between the currently isolated United States, and the rest of the world, full of potential allies and enemies.

I appreciate Oprah taking a stand (because she can) and boosting Obama's coffers (because she can) and trying to make history with the 2008 elections. (Obama, the Broadway Show! Obama, the Best Selling Autobiography, as featured in the Oprah book club! Etc.) Barak Obama is not cooked and ready to be served, he should accumulate more friends in Washington, get his hands dirtier, and run in 2012.

This has nothing to do with his color, nor do I feel the need or obligation to pander to the feminist agenda.

I do not support Hilary Clinton, whom I feel lacks the personality that would inspire respect and cooperation, both from Washington insiders and from leaders abroad. Americans have had enough of the Bush and Clinton political dynasties, and deserve some fresh blood, someone who can begin to tidy up the mess that George W. Bush Jr has left as his legacy.

Professor Dumbledore, Will You Please Come Out of the Closet

On behalf of Harry Potter, an orphan who has no parents to speak in his defence, I would like to report his beloved mentor, Professor Albus Dumbledore, for molestation. That's right, now that the esteemed teacher and fighter of evil has been outed, one cannot help but wonder what Harry Potter and he were really doing in all those late night study sessions. For that matter, didn't Professor Snape also spend a lot of one-on-one time with Harry in detention?

Of course, Professor Dumbledore is deceased, and lives only in the portraits on the wall, but dammit, if the various magical persons in all the paintings at Hogworts can interact in real time with students and each other, they can be jailed post mortem.

Why is it that magic must be associated with deviance of a sort? What did JK Rowling gain by declaring that Dumbledore prefers the Wizard over the Witch?

Much like the hullabaloo over the Narnia series by C.S. Lewis, literature makes statements and passes along morality on multiple levels. As a Jewish girl reading The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, the Christian references flew way over my head, and I simply enjoyed the series as a tale about adventurous children in a parallel universe who receive the protection of a kindly magical lion. Aslan doesn't even sound like Jesus...

The television show Sesame Street began when I was one year old, and Big Bird's friend Mr. Snuffleuppagus was conceived initially as a real friend of Big Bird's, who just happened to disappear when any human adult showed up on the scene. (Much like Clark Kent and Superman, they are never around at the same time, hmmm...) In time, the show revealed the melancholy Woolly Mammoth to the remaining residents of Sesame Street; they feared that a child who had been abused or bullied would not approach adults for help, because he/she believed that adults are either stupid, or would not believe their story.

This of course did not go far enough for the liberal "gay" 90's, when speculation ran rampant regarding Bert and Ernie's sexual orientation. I would like to point out that they were roommates, sharing a one-bedroom flat in a very expensive New York real estate market, and that they slept in separate beds. Not once in my growing up and watching the show did I consider another more insidious insinuation.

In Israel, they forgo any subtlety, and the two Ernie and Bert-like puppets who appear in the ads for the Electric Company are known to be gay; one is the "female" and the other is the "male." The verbal pun on an electrical socket works better in Hebrew, but you get the idea.

Perhaps, Rowling created a gay character in the importance of Dumbledore to give courage to children reading her books, children who may have questions about their sexuality but may be afraid to announce it or discuss it with adults. In that case, make Neville gay, he emerged heroic at the end of book seven and in fact in the future, teaches at Hogwarts. Hooray for macho gay Neville and kudos to his Alma mater for have a non-discriminatory hiring policy.

This Dumbledore incident raises the same concerns for me as the Gay Pride Parade in Jerusalem. Call me a prude, but I believe that every person is entitled to his and her privacy as regards choices of intimacy. I don't need to see a heterosexual couple having sex in their car or snogging at a street corner, and the same applies for me with homosexuals, bisexuals and the magical folk. (Being politically correct, I must immediately apologize to any other active sexual group for not mentioning you, I actually don't want to watch you in the bedroom either.)

What happens in the bedroom should stay in the bedroom, across the board.

When the gay and lesbian community feels the need to have a parade in Jerusalem, specifically after they have marched in several other cities in Israel, it tells me that they themselves are not comfortable enough in their own skin and their own status. They must be "in the face" of the rest of the presumed intolerant population, in a city that is holy to all religions. Because if there is a parade that divides the city, and starts civil and religious war, people will have to notice them.

As a Jewish woman, I also don't have a great need to attend a synagogue that is egalitarian, simply because it gives women a larger role in the Orthodox ritual. I am content with my personal relationship with G-d, and I don't need the boys' club to let me in to feel better about myself spiritually, or to prove something.

We are all so busy trying to be "tolerant" and "inclusive", that we lose our internal truths. Instead of pulling over a suspicious 25 year old Muslim male in the airport, the 86 year old woman bringing donuts to her grandchildren is stripped-searched, because the cream inside the pastry might be an explosive. International travel may not be any safer, but at lease we did not offend the Arab terrorist.

Daily Routines

When I run out of new books to read, which happens frequently in my house, I return to several favorites, and have recently re-read The Little Prince by Antione De Saint-Expupery (known as Saint - Ex to his friends). Every time I read this book, I notice another line, another description that speaks to me in a way that I had not noticed the last 100 times I read the book. This particular version of the book is special to me as well, it was once part of my grandmother's library and she had marked off various passages that spoke to her; when I read this and come across her notation, I feel that she is with me in the room.

Around page 39, Saint-Ex describes the Little Prince's daily routine on his small planet:

"He carefully swept his active volcanoes. He possessed two active volcanoes and they were very convenient for heating his breakfast in the morning. He also had a volcano which was extinct. But as he pointed out: 'You never know!' So he also cleaned out the extinct volcano...The little prince tore up...the last little baobab shoots...and watered the flower, and then prepared to place her under her glass dome."

The book itself presents a parable of love and attachments, and the importance of appreciating what and who you have in your life. If I were to document my standard morning, it would go something like this:

"She woke up before her alarm, because there was a 14 pound cat sitting and purring on her chest. All attempts to read the morning paper were in vain. She gave her cats T-U-N-A and then fed the street cats outside, who waited not so patiently for their breakfast. Then the water in the bowls needed to be changed, and the excess water was given to the little plant on the porch. The computer, turned on, was checked for email and spam, and then she set up the files for her office that day, before taking a superficial shower. The more substantial shower was to be taken after the one kilometer swim."

We humans revel in our routine, the safety of knowing that certain things must be done, that certain actions recur consistently day after day. I experience a certain peace in waking up in my own bed and running through my morning without thought; and yet, there should be days where responsibility can be chucked out the window, where the world does not collapse into chaos if you switch things around a little, ignore a few items on the list.

It seems I must acquire that skill set, although at the end of The Little Prince, he abandons his quest in the desert and returns to his flower, to his planet and to his beloved chores.

Perhaps he took his cue from TS Eliot, who wrote:

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started,
And know the place for the first time.

Harry Potter 7, A New York Story

I myself cannot take credit for this story, which I relate from my friend Ami in New York, I wanted to share it. She writes:

"I was sitting in my Chiropractor's office the other day, in his waiting room, across from an older couple who were reading his and hers HP7. I was about 200-300 pages ahead of them, and got to page 697 (something like that) and started to tear up, to where I was sniffling a little bit. The man next to me and I had had a conversation about how he was waiting for his 13 year old to finish the book, and when he saw me reach for a Kleenex, he moved away. The woman of the couple across from me said, "Oh I can't take this, I'm sorry," got up and moved away from me as well.

I felt like a new breed of speed reading leper."

Meanwhile, here in Israel, my book club spent a solid half hour discussing whether the Potter series deserves all this attention, or whether it is just another reformulation of the classic Science Fiction/Fantasy genre of good vs evil. Needless to say, we had all read it, many of us instead of the assigned book of the month.

Look at the damage JK Rowling has wrought.

Speed Reader

I have been a Speed Reader since the second grade, not to be confused with my childhood literary hero, "Easy Reader", as played by Morgan Freeman on The Electric Company. Dressed in my party outfit and waiting for my parents' guests to arrive, I finished an entire Nancy Drew book in less than a half hour; totally absorbed and scanning the text, I hadn't noticed the adults milling around with their drinks and their appetizers until I had finished the book.

This changed slightly in graduate school, when my mind would get stuck on the more complex and crucial medical terminology, as I forced myself to read more slowly, to make sure not to miss information. I have over time, however, developed another nasty reading habit, which I employ most liberally with murder mysteries and fiction: I read the last chapter before I start the rest of the book. Yikes, you're thinking, doesn't that ruin the suspense? Yes it does, and it is a remnant of my Type A control-freak behaviour, I need to know the ending so I can spot the clues to the resolution in the rest of the text.

Of course you don't need this methodology when reading the works of Charles Dickens, because every ending is the same: "And when the author fulfilled his word requirement, it turned out that the sad waif hungry orphan boy was really the son of the Duke, he married his true love who was able to look past the sad waif hungry circumstances of his life, and they raised proper Victorian children." When I speed read, I must get through the first 50 pages in order to capture my interest; I don't think I have ever gotten past the first 50 pages of any Dickens novel, even when I had to read it in high school.

Today, I stood on line - though not in costume - in anticipation to receive the last book in the Harry Potter series. In my excitement, the pre-order reserve form has been taped to my front door for the last three days. I read the New York Times review, which did not give away any spoilers, those bastards...

I now hold the book in my hand (the British version) and have a most important decision to make: do I read the epilogue first?

Duh, of course I do.