This past week has been one of great changes in moods and meanings. And only today, as the new week begins, did I notice . . .
The Aspens have turned gold and the oaks are brown and orange in the high Sandia Mountain Front. (One golden patch of Aspen is just below the leftmost patch of cloud on the mountain peak).
"Ma tovu ohalecha, Yisrael . . ."
"Oh, how lovely are your tents O Israel,
Your dwelling places, O Jacob!"
Shofar, Torah, and Challah, which is round for the Holy days, in a mishkan--a portable sanctuary--the east meadow at Oak Flat.
Rosh Hashanah is called Yom HaZikaron--a day for remembering. Remembering the power inherent in creation, the birth of the world, the binding of Isaac, the sweetness and goodness of life.
But it was hard to forget what was going on outside the sanctuary in town or the mishkan in the mountains: Financial Meltdown, the high treif (unfit food e.g. pork) bail-out, the meanness and division of this political season.
Saturday night went well.
The Boychick had his first high school dance.
It was also the first homecoming for East Mountain High School. And the first dance in their new gym.
In honor of all the firsts, the Boychick wore his Fedora and ironed his jeans.
He's too young for dating, so he met friends there. And he danced with the charming L., his first dance with a girl other than his sister.
So the week ended well after all.
Except the Cubs lost. Three games against the Dodgers.
It's going to be a rough year.