This weekend, my partner and I had the chance to celebrate the Passover Seder with my friend Brenna and her family. I'm still recounting the experience in my mind, but I was immedately taken with the tradition. I'm trying to figure out what sets it apart from other religious traditions I've celebrated like Christmas. There's the same family aspect, special foods, prayers, rituals. Is it the commercialism that surrounds so many Christian holidays? Even the significance of Easter is overtaken by a bunny with chocolate. I'm not a religious person at all, so why was I moved by this ritual?
And it struck me. It's the story. Whether you believe the story of Passover or care about it, if you participate in a seder, you're a part of the story. It's the talking and listening, the questioning. Brenna and her family are very relaxed about their traditions--and even poke fun at them. How nice though, to have a reason to sit and remember what binds you as a family. The tensions leave the room? The disputes fade? You eat the crappy food and remember how crappy it is, and that you do it every year with these people.
What a great way to pass something from parent to child. What a great way to communicate who you are as a person who you are in relation to everyone else in the world. My parents and I don't talk about these things much. It's like they fade as people into base for-the-moment humor and shopping. They are cut off from the world.
Things I love about Passover:
1. The Afikomen. (I kept thinking of Kofi Annan every time this word was spoken.)
2. The wine. (We did not drink Manischewitz, but lots of other great wine.)
3. The singing and stories, especially the impromptu ones.
4. Leah's version of the Haggadah, which has been used since the 1950's and still had the penciled-in names of her sisters, brothers and parents. (Mort!)
5. Opening the door for Elijah.
Things I do not like about Passover
1. Gefilte fish.
2. Matzo (unless it had jam or chocolate on it).
3. The angel of death.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Sunday, April 17, 2005
SR-14
Leaving work at sunset,
I wind my way down a gray stretch
of road. Scraggly brush and litter at the side
of a swampy ditch--a small metal shed catches
the sunlight just so and is transformed into a brilliant
monolith, like a doorway to another universe.
It's as if there's power in the universe
to remake all of us at sunset
into something better, more brilliant.
I can feel myself changing, stretching
out like a phoenix to catch
what’s left of the light I still have inside.
Some days, I feel like I've been turned sideways.
It's not as if I'm the only person in the universe
to feel this way. Amidst the rubble we strain to catch
a warm flicker of fire before the sun sets,
sending us into the night--darkness stretching
out before us in sable brilliance.
The trick is to not let the brilliant
aching of monotonous routine sidle
up to you. To keep the days from endless stretching
out like a ticking clock. To remember that the universe
has more in mind for us. Like a metal shed at sunset,
we are both glowing and dim, and mostly caught
somewhere in between. The catch
is to remember that brilliance
can happen near a swampy ditch, or a in car at sunset.
That whoever you appear to be on the outside,
you are more like a streaming comet, circling the universe
than cold metal, by a long stretch.
It's the space between your ribs as you stretch
that holds oxygen to fan the fire. Release the catch
on the door, and breathe into the universe
a sigh that strains forth, brilliant
in its desire, exhaling and expanding inside,
a glowing sphere of fire at sunset.
The sunset, a blazing pink so brilliant
it catches the tree tops and makes them glow, stretching
out besides me like a fiery sign from the universe.
I wind my way down a gray stretch
of road. Scraggly brush and litter at the side
of a swampy ditch--a small metal shed catches
the sunlight just so and is transformed into a brilliant
monolith, like a doorway to another universe.
It's as if there's power in the universe
to remake all of us at sunset
into something better, more brilliant.
I can feel myself changing, stretching
out like a phoenix to catch
what’s left of the light I still have inside.
Some days, I feel like I've been turned sideways.
It's not as if I'm the only person in the universe
to feel this way. Amidst the rubble we strain to catch
a warm flicker of fire before the sun sets,
sending us into the night--darkness stretching
out before us in sable brilliance.
The trick is to not let the brilliant
aching of monotonous routine sidle
up to you. To keep the days from endless stretching
out like a ticking clock. To remember that the universe
has more in mind for us. Like a metal shed at sunset,
we are both glowing and dim, and mostly caught
somewhere in between. The catch
is to remember that brilliance
can happen near a swampy ditch, or a in car at sunset.
That whoever you appear to be on the outside,
you are more like a streaming comet, circling the universe
than cold metal, by a long stretch.
It's the space between your ribs as you stretch
that holds oxygen to fan the fire. Release the catch
on the door, and breathe into the universe
a sigh that strains forth, brilliant
in its desire, exhaling and expanding inside,
a glowing sphere of fire at sunset.
The sunset, a blazing pink so brilliant
it catches the tree tops and makes them glow, stretching
out besides me like a fiery sign from the universe.
Saturday, April 09, 2005
Root
This is a screenshot from one of my new favorite websites the Visual Thesaurus. It visually maps out a word and its synonymns. There's an "autopilot" setting where it moves through a chain link of one word to the next. It's amazing to see how you can get from "rug" to "lilac." A little wordy six degrees of separation for ya.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Things I wore that now embarrass me
I used to experiment with clothes. I came up with some really cool things sometimes. (I painted a monster on pair of jeans with a hole in the knee to look like the hole was the monster’s mouth; I made some Jackson Pollack-inspired Chuck Taylors, I had these awesome yellow and white classic Hush Puppies that I’d love to have today.) Sometimes, my experimentation didn’t work out so well.
1. Fifth grade ultimate outfit. I wore this outfit every M, W, F, as if no one would notice just because I was alternating on T, Th with different clothes. A yellow Icelandic-style sweater, and pinstriped jeans. (Remember those?)
2. Sixth grade mish-mash outfit. I think I put these three pieces together because they all were in the same color range. A pair of melon-colored Esprit cropped cargo pants, that were really ballooney. A button down shirt, also melon-colored with green and yellow (?) stripes. On cold days, I would layer a pinkish mohair cardigan over the button down. I believe the cardigan was originally my mother’s from the 60’s. I think I spilled maple syrup on in at some point because I remember it smelled maple-sweet.
3. Earrings that I made from two halves of a ring that broke in two (it was made of cheap metal. I was wearing these when I had my 7th grade class photo taken.
4. If my mom would have let me, I would have taken one of her silk scarves, wrapped it around my waist and fastened with a safety pin, and worn it as a skirt. I really would have. I’m so glad she caught that one.
5. In our school, an 8th grade middle school tradition of sexism was that the boys’ basketball team would play against the teachers during a school assembly. Several of my girlfriends and I decided to be cheerleaders during the event, and we made t-shirts that we wore during the game. I think Brian Logel’s name was scrawled across my chest, and other weird stuff that made my infatuation with him apparent.
6. This strange outfit that consisted of two polo shirts, a red one layered OVER a yellow one, tight khaki pants, and red Chuck Taylors.
1. Fifth grade ultimate outfit. I wore this outfit every M, W, F, as if no one would notice just because I was alternating on T, Th with different clothes. A yellow Icelandic-style sweater, and pinstriped jeans. (Remember those?)
2. Sixth grade mish-mash outfit. I think I put these three pieces together because they all were in the same color range. A pair of melon-colored Esprit cropped cargo pants, that were really ballooney. A button down shirt, also melon-colored with green and yellow (?) stripes. On cold days, I would layer a pinkish mohair cardigan over the button down. I believe the cardigan was originally my mother’s from the 60’s. I think I spilled maple syrup on in at some point because I remember it smelled maple-sweet.
3. Earrings that I made from two halves of a ring that broke in two (it was made of cheap metal. I was wearing these when I had my 7th grade class photo taken.
4. If my mom would have let me, I would have taken one of her silk scarves, wrapped it around my waist and fastened with a safety pin, and worn it as a skirt. I really would have. I’m so glad she caught that one.
5. In our school, an 8th grade middle school tradition of sexism was that the boys’ basketball team would play against the teachers during a school assembly. Several of my girlfriends and I decided to be cheerleaders during the event, and we made t-shirts that we wore during the game. I think Brian Logel’s name was scrawled across my chest, and other weird stuff that made my infatuation with him apparent.
6. This strange outfit that consisted of two polo shirts, a red one layered OVER a yellow one, tight khaki pants, and red Chuck Taylors.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Sunday, April 03, 2005
1986
I knew exactly what to wear: my black shirt with the big white polka dots, and my white pants with the little black polka dots. My mom had bought them from RAVE, my favorite store. My hair would be just perfect, and I had the best make-up idea from Seventeen.
I dialed my pink phone.
“Hello?”
Hi, Heather?”
“Yeah! Hi !”
“So what time are you going to pick me up tomorrow?”
We were going out to Akron, the town she had moved from just three months ago. It was the kind of place where kids went to 4-H meetings and wore cheap clothes from Ames. Heather still went to 4-H in our town, but at least now she had a sweater from The Limited.
“What are you going to wear?”
“ My pink Limited sweater.”
She was psyched when I told her about my polka-dot outfit.
“That’s so cool! Laura is gonna die!”
Laura was her old best friend from Akron. I imagined her with long, feathered hair, blue eyeshadow and really tight jeans. Heather told me that Laura already had a boyfriend. His name was Mike and he was older and had a job and a license. I bet he drove a Camero or something.
“So like, when we get there, what are you gonna say to Laura?”
“Oh, I dunno. I kinda thought I’d act all normal. But just talk about how cool Aurora is and be like, ‘Akron’s gay.’”
“Cool. We should act like we have boyfriends.”
“Yeah! Mine’s name will be Tim. What will yours be?
”Matt.”
Heather and her mom picked me up the next morning for the long drive out to Akron. I wondered if the highway would end and we’d have to drive down a dirt road or go past cow pastures. But Angie’s Roller Rink and Game Center was on a normal looking road with a bank and a Burger King across the street. Heather’s mom dropped us off and promised to be back at two.
Inside, there was a giant fluorescent Pac-Man on the wall and a disco ball in the middle of the skating rink. That stupid song by Jefferson Starship was blaring “We built this city….” I hated that song. We got our skates.
“These look dorky with my outfit.” They were totally spoiling my look.
The other kids there looked pretty normal. The girls were wearing stirrup pants and baggy sweaters, the boys weren’t skaters like the boys in Aurora, but they were cute.
Laura was in the corner with a couple of other girls. She was slight and pretty with long blond hair. I was at least five inches taller than she was.
“Hi Laura!” Heather said.
“Hi!.”
“This is Pam.”
“Hi!”
“Hi.”
I felt like a monster. I was still wearing my big winter coat because there was no where to put it. My hair had turned out frizzy and stupid. It was awkward.
“Come on, Heather. Let’s skate.” I said.
“Laura, do you want to skate with us?” Heather was trying to be nice, I didn’t know why though.
So the three of us make our way to the rink. Michael Jackson’s Thriller came on.
“Aw man, I love Michael Jackson!” I said. I started to skate backward.
“No way,” Laura said, “Boy George is way cuter.”
“Heather, I can’t believe you used to live here. I said. “There aren’t even any cute boys, like Tim and Matt.”
“Who are they?” asked Laura.
“They’re our boyfriends. See? Look at those two boys over there playing Asteroids. They’re like the cutest boys in here and Tim and Matt are waayyy cuter than that.”
Laura said she was tired, and went to sit down. We kept skating.
“So like, Heather. Do you know those boys? Do you liiiike them?”
“Ewwww. No! The one in the baseball hat, that’s Brian. He was in my class. And that’s Phillip next to him.” Brian was pretty cute. I kept looking over there every time we skated by. I thought maybe they were looking at me a little too.
We went to get some pop. Heather’s mom had given her enough money for two small pops, but I really wanted some candy too. It sucked.
And then I saw Brian get in line. He was getting pizza! I didn’t want to look over at him, but I really wanted to see if he was watching me. I could feel my cheeks getting red hot. I felt like I was standing strangely, like lopsided or something.
Heather ordered two small orange pops and I was embarrassed. What if Brian heard her asking for orange pop? He would think I was poor or something. I tried to act really cool as I took my pop from the concession man. I wanted to look like I didn’t even care about the pop. I stood up tall and tried to swiveled around on my heel and walk away. But the man wouldn’t let go! I gave him a dirty look.
“Say “thank you’,” he said. He raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
I got away quickly and sat down. Laura and some other girls must have seen the whole thing. They were whispering and giggling and walking toward the video arcade. Heather didn’t say anything.
“Oh my god, I’m sooo embarrassed!”
“No one saw,” she said.
“I’m going to die! Is it almost time for you mom to get here? I hate this place. It’s boring.”
“It’s only one o’clock. We have another hour.”
I hated my outfit, I hated my stupid hair. I hated this stupid town. I wasn’t even sure Heather was the greatest friend. She only had one Limited sweater after all.
I dialed my pink phone.
“Hello?”
Hi, Heather?”
“Yeah! Hi !”
“So what time are you going to pick me up tomorrow?”
We were going out to Akron, the town she had moved from just three months ago. It was the kind of place where kids went to 4-H meetings and wore cheap clothes from Ames. Heather still went to 4-H in our town, but at least now she had a sweater from The Limited.
“What are you going to wear?”
“ My pink Limited sweater.”
She was psyched when I told her about my polka-dot outfit.
“That’s so cool! Laura is gonna die!”
Laura was her old best friend from Akron. I imagined her with long, feathered hair, blue eyeshadow and really tight jeans. Heather told me that Laura already had a boyfriend. His name was Mike and he was older and had a job and a license. I bet he drove a Camero or something.
“So like, when we get there, what are you gonna say to Laura?”
“Oh, I dunno. I kinda thought I’d act all normal. But just talk about how cool Aurora is and be like, ‘Akron’s gay.’”
“Cool. We should act like we have boyfriends.”
“Yeah! Mine’s name will be Tim. What will yours be?
”Matt.”
Heather and her mom picked me up the next morning for the long drive out to Akron. I wondered if the highway would end and we’d have to drive down a dirt road or go past cow pastures. But Angie’s Roller Rink and Game Center was on a normal looking road with a bank and a Burger King across the street. Heather’s mom dropped us off and promised to be back at two.
Inside, there was a giant fluorescent Pac-Man on the wall and a disco ball in the middle of the skating rink. That stupid song by Jefferson Starship was blaring “We built this city….” I hated that song. We got our skates.
“These look dorky with my outfit.” They were totally spoiling my look.
The other kids there looked pretty normal. The girls were wearing stirrup pants and baggy sweaters, the boys weren’t skaters like the boys in Aurora, but they were cute.
Laura was in the corner with a couple of other girls. She was slight and pretty with long blond hair. I was at least five inches taller than she was.
“Hi Laura!” Heather said.
“Hi!.”
“This is Pam.”
“Hi!”
“Hi.”
I felt like a monster. I was still wearing my big winter coat because there was no where to put it. My hair had turned out frizzy and stupid. It was awkward.
“Come on, Heather. Let’s skate.” I said.
“Laura, do you want to skate with us?” Heather was trying to be nice, I didn’t know why though.
So the three of us make our way to the rink. Michael Jackson’s Thriller came on.
“Aw man, I love Michael Jackson!” I said. I started to skate backward.
“No way,” Laura said, “Boy George is way cuter.”
“Heather, I can’t believe you used to live here. I said. “There aren’t even any cute boys, like Tim and Matt.”
“Who are they?” asked Laura.
“They’re our boyfriends. See? Look at those two boys over there playing Asteroids. They’re like the cutest boys in here and Tim and Matt are waayyy cuter than that.”
Laura said she was tired, and went to sit down. We kept skating.
“So like, Heather. Do you know those boys? Do you liiiike them?”
“Ewwww. No! The one in the baseball hat, that’s Brian. He was in my class. And that’s Phillip next to him.” Brian was pretty cute. I kept looking over there every time we skated by. I thought maybe they were looking at me a little too.
We went to get some pop. Heather’s mom had given her enough money for two small pops, but I really wanted some candy too. It sucked.
And then I saw Brian get in line. He was getting pizza! I didn’t want to look over at him, but I really wanted to see if he was watching me. I could feel my cheeks getting red hot. I felt like I was standing strangely, like lopsided or something.
Heather ordered two small orange pops and I was embarrassed. What if Brian heard her asking for orange pop? He would think I was poor or something. I tried to act really cool as I took my pop from the concession man. I wanted to look like I didn’t even care about the pop. I stood up tall and tried to swiveled around on my heel and walk away. But the man wouldn’t let go! I gave him a dirty look.
“Say “thank you’,” he said. He raised his eyebrows and waited.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
I got away quickly and sat down. Laura and some other girls must have seen the whole thing. They were whispering and giggling and walking toward the video arcade. Heather didn’t say anything.
“Oh my god, I’m sooo embarrassed!”
“No one saw,” she said.
“I’m going to die! Is it almost time for you mom to get here? I hate this place. It’s boring.”
“It’s only one o’clock. We have another hour.”
I hated my outfit, I hated my stupid hair. I hated this stupid town. I wasn’t even sure Heather was the greatest friend. She only had one Limited sweater after all.
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