Author Archives: ruthek

Inspiration

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Unusually, I went to three movies this week. The first two were largely forgettable, but this afternoon was a treat: Blindsight, a documentary about six blind Tibetan teenagers who climbed the mountain north of Everest. The views of the mountains are spectacular; the situation of the blind in Tibet, tragic. A scene at the beginning of the movie showing Erik Weihenmayer, the first blind person to climb Mt Everest, crossing an abyss on a bridge made by a ladder, terrified me. Most important, the movie was an inspiration. Those teenagers took on a staggering challenge and triumphed. It changed their lives.

The movie inspires me to work harder on a challenge of my own. Since I returned from Japan I have been very conscious of my problems with steps and with balance. Recently I went to a specialist on balance problems and was diagnosed with weakness in the muscles around my hips and thighs; probably also around my knees. She gave me some exercises and sent me to a physical therapist who gave me more exercises. I’m doing them religiously, continuing to walk miles, and I’m more than ever determined to be able conquer my fear and to climb those steps, up and down, when I return to Japan next fall.

Pictures from New York

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From the family seder:
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Steve (right) and brother, Michael

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Steve and Charna

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Seder table, celebrating spring

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Michael couldn’t wait to eat

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The Pope’s motorcade going up to Yonkers for a rally. I’ve never seen the FDR empty like that, although Renee says it happens fairly often for dignitaries coming into the city.

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Rooftops from Renee’s window. There is a woman sunbathing on the dark roof on the left.

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Fashion statement: one way to keep track of the kids.

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There seemed to be an epidemic of these prison stripes.

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The Japanese garden at the botanic garden in Brooklyn

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Tortoise rocks in the garden

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One of the wonderful cherry trees. Everything was blooming.

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Yellow magnolia. Amazing tree
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Last post from New York

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Tomorrow morning I board the train for Pittsburgh. If it’s not as bad as the last time I rode Amtrak 2-1/2 years ago, I might even do it again.

I wouldn’t want you to think I spent five days in New York without going to an art exhibit, my entertainment of choice. On Sunday, before I went to New Jersey for the seder, Renee and I went to the Asia Society where we saw wonderful Japanese prints. Yesterday we went to the Met and saw the Courbet. He was the penultimate avant garde artist of his time, but it’s a little hard to think of him that way. Everything has been so much more avant in recent years, unless you understand what came before, he seems a little dull. I really loved his self portraits, especially the one on the show poster. Maybe I’ll do some of my own: Fat Old Artist with piano, or Fat Old Artist with White Dog. (I don’t know any black ones.)

Today we went to Brooklyn, first to the botanic garden to see the cherry blossoms, magnolias and the wonderful Japanese garden. It was a perfect day, warm, sunny with a great breeze. Renee is a great companion in a garden; she knows so much about plants.

The Brooklyn Museum is next to the garden and was our next stop. The featured exhibit was by Murakami, a contemporary Japanese artist, but the exhibit I liked best was more Japanese prints. I think I can never see enough of them. This exhibit had prints I’ve never seen before–a great treat.

I won’t get home until late tomorrow; the train crawls–for 10-1/2 hours. (It’s only 7 hours driving.) I’ll try to post pictures on Friday.

Second Seder

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We didn’t begin until 8:30, ate at 10:30 and got to bed at 2:30 am. It was a lovely event, but I am sitting here at 10:30 Monday evening and I’m still tired. The last time I was awake at 2:30 in the morning I was on an airplane over the Pacific.

Our friends, the Rabbi and his wife, hosted this seder. We were a small group, my family and the Rabbi’s family, ten in all. The Rabbi has a wonderful, baritone and is very musical–makes the whole thing a treat. We recited the entire book, with multiple interruptions for questions and comments by the children, all grown now, the youngest being 17, and very knowledgeable in matters of religion. One of them even brought a laptop, to look up the stuff no one else could answer. Another contrast with my childhood experiences, and I don’t mean the laptop.

At the end of each seder we say "Next year in Jerusalem." When I was a child, before the creation of the State of Israel, this was a yearning without much chance of fulfillment. Today we pray for peace in the State of Israel.

Passover

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We had a great seder last night, and I’m looking forward to another great, but longer, one tonight. Steve did the honors, making sure everyone participated; we got through most of the Haggadah, learned some things, had a few laughs. Pictures when I get home.

This was nothing like the seders of my childhood. They were always somber and more than a little agonizing. Truth to tell, everything about Judaism was like that when I was a child. Between the war (WWII), antisemitism and my father’s paranoia about antisemitism, it was not a fun scene. My grandmother, who lived with us, sat at the head of the table, usurping my father’s place, although I never heard him complain. She and my father would race through the readings in the Haggadah, entirely in Hebrew or Aramaic, their Austrian accents making them sound like they had stones in their mouths. I would follow, reading the English translation, which was stilted and not altogether intelligible to me.

My mother, whose only interest was cooking would sit there asking when she could start serving the food. There is a lot of reading and discussion before you get to eat.

The Haggadah, in addition to praising God, is primarily a discussion about how to tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt. In fact, the Exodus plays only a small part in the story, the recounting of the ten plagues and the parting of the Red Sea. It is almost as though everyone knew the story so well they didn’t have to repeat it in the Haggadah. Moses and Aaron get short shrift, as does Joseph and how the Israelites got to Egypt.

Unlike my childhood seders, in which I had almost no part except to sit quietly and behave, Steve had all of us reading, mostly in English, and discussing what was written, what was omitted, and what it means for us today. Good job. We had a great dinner; Renee’s matzoh balls are easily as good as my mother’s; we finished reading and singing the songs about 10 pm and had time to visit for a while.

All of this was punctuated by the sirens from the Pope’s motorcade as he went up the FDR to a youth rally in Yonkers and returned to Manhattan. I have some pictures of that, also.

An interesting afternoon

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Steve teaches a class about public health and aging for people getting a certificate in public health. Most of the students are healthcare professionals, but unfortunately, not doctors. They should be taking the class.  Today’s class was a discussion based on an article about limiting medical interventions for older patients (late 70’s and up). Steve invited me to come to the class and sent me the reading. While the argument generates lots of controversy it presupposes so many things that won’t come to pass in my lifetime, it becomes meaningless.

Simplifying the argument: In a more perfect world, where elders are respected and not the subject of so much prejudice, it should be possible to make a rule based on age, limiting what medicare would pay for in the way of technological interventions. When the class began I was the only one in favor of the argument. After a spirited discussion we concluded it would be best if medical decisions were made based on the individual and on science, whatever that means. Since I haven’t met too many doctors who look at the whole person and who don’t base their decisions on things like worry about malpractice suits, pharmaceutical company propaganda and the need to avoid death regardless of the patient’s wishes, I rather like the idea of a rule or concensus based on age. I don’t want to die hooked up to machines, like my mother. Nor do I want round the clock caretakers and being treated like a child. These seem to be today’s inevitabilities.

One of the biggest problems is no one wants to talk about death. We seem to think it will go away if we ignore it, or maybe, if we can just keep breathing, they’ll find some way to keep us alive forever. Instead, it creeps up on us and takes us in the most terrible, painful, undignified ways. It would help if we had a good, rational discussion about how we want doctors to treat us and how we want to die. We aren’t going to live forever; wishful thinking won’t make it so.

Finished

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I finished writing my paper this morning. It was like an actual weight was lifted from my chest. Now just proofreading and print it out. All of my classes are finished for the semester and I plan to do some traveling in the next few weeks. Friday morning we are driving to New York for Passover–first seder, Saturday night, with Renee, Sunday night with a wonderful rabbi friend of ours. We did this last year, also. I’ll stay in New York for a week. I promise to post more often, even though I’ll be on the road.

One of those questions

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Why is it we can take to the streets to protest what the Chinese are doing in Tibet, but are able to ignore the transgressions of our own government?

We should be protesting the war in Iraq every hour of every day.
We should be protesting the use of torture.
We should be protesting government censorship of protest marches–see Winter Soldier 2008. Why is it no one in mainstream media reported on it.
We should be protesting irresponsible government spending in Iraq.
This government has done more illegal, corrupt, irresponsible things than I can begin to detail. Why arent’ we talking about it–ALL THE TIME.
One more thing: why aren’t we protesting the scandalous amount of money made by health insurance companies.

Thank you, if you’ve read this far. I just had to get it off my chest.