The Glorious Fourth!

Old Glory Flies from the mast of the USS Constitution

I took the picture on the Turn-Around Cruise, July 19, 2004.

Have a wonderful 4th!

Long may we remember and exercise Liberty, secured

at so great a cost

by the patriots of the American revolution.

"...Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor

In the summer of 2001, I spent the Glorious Fourth at the Aleph Summer Kallah. A Kallah is a period of Jewish study undertaken traditionally in the summer, after Shavuot.

The 4th of July was on a Thursday that year, and Thursday is a Torah reading day in the synagogue. We had morning services with Rabbi Arthur Waskow in the big tent that is part of Kallah.

I don't remember what Torah portion was read that day, but I will never forget the Haftarah (prophetic reading). Rabbi Waskow stood at the Bimah and chanted to the tune of Haftarah Trop:

"In Congress, July 4, 1776: When in the course of human events..."

He chanted the first paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. When I was growing up, it was the custom the read the Declaration out loud on the 4th at the park before the fireworks. But to place the Declaration in the canon of prophetic writings was not something that I had ever considered. And yet, Rabbi Waskow was right--it is a prophetic document in a very real sense. The reading sent shivers up my spine.

We discussed the Declaration rather than having a D'var Torah (sermon). I do not remember the particulars of the discussion, but the import was the idea that the Eternal Creator of the Universe delights in human freedom and self-determiniation. There were many important rabbis in the Jewish Renewal movement there that day, so I did not contribute until the end of the discussion.

I suggested that Rabbi Waskow chant also the end of the Declaration for it is a very powerful statement of commitment by the signers of the document. And Rabbi Waskow stood aside and called me for the honor of chanting these words:

"... And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."

I have always thought these words are the most powerful in the Declaration. To understand how powerful, we must remember that to sign this document was an act of treason in the eyes of King George. And this was no hollow statement. The penalty for treason is death.

It is easy for us today to forget, as we have our barbeques, and watch the fireworks, that the founders of our Republic did not know the outcome of the revolution that they began. When they got together to "hatch much treason," as Samuel Adams put it, they were taking a very real risk that it might not work out. When George Washington and the Continental Army were starving at Valley Forge, they faced the real possiblity that all could be lost in this desperate gamble, and that tyranny would prevail.

And yet they persisted in their revolution in support of an idea--the idea and ideal that all human beings are created equal and that a nation can be build on the foundation of liberty and self-determination.

Many of those who signed the Declaration did in fact gamble and lose their property; and some their very lives. And even more so, did the ordinary "Americans," who responded to the call of freedom and gave their lives in the monumental struggle to give birth to a nation "conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all...are created equal," as Abe Lincoln so simply and eloquently put it 87 years later.

And I wonder, do we, their spiritual descendents, have that kind of dedication? Do we understand the meaning of staking "our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor" for the ideal of liberty?

I believe that our nation, out of all the nations, has a unique heritage of liberty. We are a people founded not on blood, nor on soil, but on the strength of an idea. Anyone who is willing to pledge life, fortune and honor in the service of this idea is one of us--regardless of birth. Of all of the nations, we have a unique capacity for greatness. But it is up to us to reach for that greatness and pledge everything we are and everything we have, to make it happen. Regardless of the costs.

Our lives. Our fortunes. Our sacred honor.

When we pledge the first two, we create the third.

I am reminded of the poem that is on the Minuteman statue in Concord:

"By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

His flag to April's breeze unfurled.

Here once the embattled farmer stood,

And fired the shot heard 'round the world."

Will the echo if that shot continue to be heard? Do we understand what "sacred honor" means? Would we be willing to give our lives and our fortunes up to the cause of liberty?

Are we willing to demand this of our leaders?

These questions should be foremost on our minds and hearts this Glorious Fourth.

Returns and Departures

After a very quiet week, I picked N. up in town after his week at Boy Scout Camp in Texas.



The camp was in the Big Bend area, not far from Fort Davis. My boy came home tired and dirty and hot...it was regularly 109 degrees F down there. And very happy about his successful week.

He completed these merit badges while at camp:

• Horsemanship


• Riflery


• Archery


• Swimming

For horsemanship, he had to learn the parts of the horse, the names of the tack, how to groom the horse, muck the stall, feed the horse, and care for and put on the tack, as well as riding. He had to get up at 5 AM and muck and feed before eating his own breakfast. What a great lesson in responsibility for other living things! In swimming he learned water safety, as well as getting advanced instruction in free-style (crawl), backstroke, sidestroke, and breaststroke. For riflery and archery, he had to demonstrate care of the weapon, and safety, as well as marksmanship. He had written tests to complete for each badge, before he rode, got in the water, or used the weapons. He learned that if he was to complete all four badges, he had to use his free time for practicing the skills he was learning. What a great learning experience. And he had great fun and came home with a great sense of accomplishment.

N. will be home all day today and tomorrow, and then he will be flying to Chicago on Tuesday for a three-week visit with my parents, sisters and their children. He is really looking forward to spending a lot of time having fun with his cousins!

And that led me to a frantic search today for his birth certificate! We need to get him a state ID so that he can negotiate the airports and get through security by himself.

And you know how it is...I knew right where all of the legal documents were--in the old house! I ventured into the cave of Bruce's office. Because I knew the documets were in the file cabinet in Bruce's office. No dice. I looked again. Still not there. I found a copy ofour marriage certificate stuck in a very interesting set of documents...but that's a different story.

Then I asked MLC:

Me: "Didn't I give you your birth certificate when you applied for your passport?"

MLC: "Yep. You got it right out of the file cabinet and handed it to me."

Me: "Which file cabinet?"

MLC: "It was about "yea" high (she gestured) and white. You went right to it."

Me: "Where was the file cabinet? Was it in this house?"

MLC: "Yep. You went right to it and handed it to me."

So I went out to the garage. Our garage should park three cars. Our two cars are parked outdoors while all three bays are full of boxes, half-opened containers with the contents leaking out, empty boxes, and the flotsam and jetsam of the move. The one we made last year.

Ahem! Embararrasing, isn't it?

So I went out to the garage--well shod in case I step on a lizard--and climbed over the Christmas lights the previous owner left on the house that we took down because we don't use them; the ones that were deposited between the refrigerator and the stack of astronomy stuff boxes. The file cabinet was next to N.'s old desk, and a stack of boxes of yet-to-be-unpacked books was square in front of the drawers. I moved those boxes, after first clearing away some of the other stuff sitting there to make room--and opened the top drawer of the file cabinet.

EMPTY!

I frantically moved the box in front of the bottom drawer.

EMPTY!

MLC, opening the garage door: "By the way, Mom, you took the file to put it somewhere safe and accessible."

Me: "WONDERFUL! I wonder where THAT would be?"

MLC: "Try your office."

Hmmm. I cleaned my office before Pesach. I looked in the obvious place--the small file box near my desk. I found:

• The expired warranty on my 5-year old Focus


• Pay stubs from my teaching job at Rio Rancho High dated 2000.


• Blank greeting cards for all occasions.


• NO BIRTH CERTIFICATE!

OY! Vey iz mir!

I looked in every notebook on my bookshelf. No dice.

I checked in the desk in the kitchen. Nope.

Then I opened the closet in my office. I had put several boxes of photos and mementos on the shelf. So I got the step-ladder. And brought down the first box. It was full of photographs. I pulled out a few: Counter-clockwise from bottom left: MLC taken 20 years ago, one of N. and his friend Jon-Jon, from 1998. A photo of MLC and N taken in 1995. And one of our cat, Binky, when he could fit into the palm of your hand, taken back in 2002. NO BIRTH CERTIFICATE.

I went through another box that contained my high school diploma, and among other such stuff, my ex's high school diploma. No file!

Finally, I pulled down a box labeled: Hebrew Teaching. And textbooks and my notes for teaching were on top. Then I found files of papers such as "The Lonely Man of Faith" by Soleveitchik. I found copies of Rosh Chodesh Services and Women's Seder Services I had written in the 1990's. And then, toward the bottom, I found my legal papers. Below that were the papers for the purchase of my first house in 1999. And, at the very bottom, a file labeled in red sharpie: IMPORTANT! RE-FILE AT ONCE! THIS MEANS YOU-E! Love, E.

You guessed it. It contains my birth certificate, the children's birth certificates, our original marriage certificate, and all of the other seldom-used-but-very-important-when-needed documents of life.

Later, as Bruce and I were eating some lunch, N. wandered in.

"Did you find it?" he asked.

"N., I am not sure you were actually born," I teased him.

He stuck his tongue out at me. "Where was it?" he asked.

Smart aleck!

O.K. maybe I should follow my own, capitalized, exclaimation-pointed, written -n-red instructions with love to myself.

Bruce is out in the garage now--tidying up a bit. Ya gotta love that guy!

And it's nice to find all-but-forgotten pictures.

I guess I know what I can occupy my lonely days with while N. is in Illinois.

The papers? I've got them somewhere safe and accessible until I need them tomorrow.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game!

I was brought up as a sports fan of sorts. My first religion was the Chicago Cubs. I didn't used to be able to catch a ball to save my life, but that was before Bruce.

Bruce loves the game of baseball. He was a little league umpire and coach when he was in college. So it's a good thing I understand the game.

In the summer of 2001, when Bruce and I were dating, he played on the Men's Softball League at Sandia National Lab.

I couldn't drive on base in my car, so I would park at a friend's house close to the gate and Bruce would bring me in to watch their games. At that time, there were quite a few spouses and children and girlfriends that would come to the games.

Then 9-11 happened. For a very long time after that, security was so tight that they checked the badges and ID of everyone in the car. You had to have a badge to go on base. Period.

So I could no longer go out to the ball games. And then we got really busy--our wedding, N.'s boy scouts, work and life. And Bruce only played as a substitute. And I didn't get to go watch.

This year, though, Bruce was able to get me a pass to go onto KAFB where Sandia National Labs are located. It is restrictive. But I can go watch the games. He has been a substitute player again--but this time for a Co-Ed SNL team.

So last night, with N. at camp, it was like old times. I was able to park at Home Depot and Bruce picked me up, and we went to the game.

Bruce was substituting for Earth, Wind and Fire. (They do Geotechnical Science--don't know what the Wind and Fire is about and I don't want to guess). It was the last game of the regular season. The whole EW&F team showed up, ready to play softball and then have a picnic.

The game was to start at 5:30. But only a few people from the other team made it. It turns out that just after we arrived, the Air Force guys were moving a weapon and closed the road out to the NTC area, where the softball field is. So the other team forfeited, but the players all decided to play a game for fun. So EW&F divided up and some played with the few on the other team.

I was the only fan. So I took pictures while they played.

Bruce's "team" was in the outfield first.

Here he is, playing first, running toward a line drive. He did tag the batter out at first. I think.

I took too many pictures and I can't remember the context for each and every one! But it was great to be out at the Manzano Mesa--enjoying the view across to Mount Taylor and watching the game. Just like old times.

Even though it's been a long time since Bruce picked up a bat, he managed to hit a home run!

In the picture to the right, he is checking out where the ball went as he gets ready to run for first.

And here he is crossing home plate!

By this time, someone had closed the dratted gate so I had to shoot through the fence. But I got the picture.

The other "team" won. But Bruce had fun anyway. Even though we have no idea where his baseball pants are! We've moved twice since he played on a team rather than as a sub.

After the game, we had hamburgers--"Dr. Dave" brought his grill out--and the usual picnic stuff to go with them. Since we were both driving, Bruce and I went to the "girl stuff" cooler. We thought we were drinking flavored water. Then I noticed the Absolut label. Well. Fortunately, I had consumed only about a quarter of the bottle. It was black-cherry flavored something that I don't usually drink. The rest went on the ground.

The moral of the story--always read the label. It's a good thing I had eaten a buffalo burger, a turkey dog, potato salad, slaw, chips and a cookie.

And drunk 16 ounces of good old H2O--before I had the "flavored water."

But we still waited a few hours before going home. Better safe than sorry.

It was a nice evening. Even if it was a little longer than planned. We stayed for the 8:30 game. And enjoyed the sunset and clouds and the cool evening breeze.

I think I have talked Bruce into joining the fall league. And he will be a regular player. Now that I can go watch.

Respect for Diversity? Calling a Spade a Spade

Doc got me thinking about the concept of diversity with her theme for the Country Fair this month. "As per usual," as N. likes to say, I didn't have anything to submit at the time. I'm a day late and a dollar short, Doc, as they like to say in my hometown. But I was thinking about it. And then I read this post from Big Mama over at Weaving Our Circle. And it reminded me of a story. And that reminder got me thinking about the whole issue of diversity in the United States.

This could turn out to be a two-part post. But first, the story. This is a true story and I think it says a lot about how comfortable the dominant culture is with differences and diversity in these United States. And that's not much.

The "Jews are Really Christians in Disguise" Story:

I used to be a member of a Jewish-Catholic Dialogue group. We would get together once a month to discuss an assigned reading and once a year, we ran an educational day to bring others in the community to discuss some issue or another. The more we met, the more I got the sense that the group did not want to discuss the hard stuff--like the role of Christian Europe in the Shoah, or even the differences between us. There seemed to be a sense in which the group wanted to get together and feel good about how diverse and accepting we all were. But differences? Well, they make people uncomfortable. Best not to talk about them.

This was confirmed for me when we got together to discuss two articles published in the Jesuit magazine, America. One article, by a self-labeled "conservative Catholic" archbishop, very matter-of-factly discussed some important theological differences between Catholicism and Judaism. And it was clear that the archbishop, speaking from his perspective, thought that Judaism had gotten it wrong about Jesus. This article was not suprising to me and some of the other Jews there. Nor was it offensive. After all, as a very small minority in the United States (somewhere around 2% if we are lucky), we are well aware that we think differently about the identity of Jesus than Christians do. The Archbishop did not express any contempt for Jews. He did point out the areas of disagreement. Strongly. And that had some of the Catholic members of the group falling all over themselves to show how very liberal and tolerant they are by refusing to acknowledge that we do, in fact, have very different beliefs about Jesus.

The second article, by a self-identified "liberal Catholic" was very different. Nothing was strongly worded at all. It appeared on the surface, that the writer was very "acccepting" and "tolerant." But I found his position to be extremely offensive. He argued that essentially Jews are really Christians who just don't know it yet, and therefore are worthy of "salvation." And the Catholic members of the group just couldn't get enough of it. They thought this neatly solved the whole problem of "salvation" for Jews.

For me, that was the problem.
In order to prove how "diverse" they were, the Catholic members who approved of this notion, and not all did, were essentially erasing our identity as Jews. And so I said something like this:

"Look, some of you have a problem with the Christian doctrine that salvation through belief that Jesus was the Messiah is the only way to relate to G-d. This is a Christian problem. It is about Christian doctrine. It has nothing to do with us as Jews. We do not agree with you about that doctrine. And we understand that it is part of the structure of your belief. And it's a free country. You have the right to believe that if you want to. As long as you do not exert force against those who do not agree with you, I am not offended by your belief. But when you take away my identity as a Jew because you are so uncomfortable with the fact that I disagree with you, then I am offended."

As you can imagine, in that group my statement set off quite a---well, discussion. I took some heat. And ultimately, the subject was dropped. Probably because it was too uncomfortable for some of the touchy-feely types who wanted to feel good about how liberal and accepting of diversity they think they are.

And that is the nub of the problem. Accepting diversity means that one accepts that others are not exactly like you. It means looking deep within and recognizing that your way of seeing the world is unique to you. It's a lonely realization. It means recognizing that yes, we are all human beings and members of the same species, with the same evolutionary heritage and genome. We are all very similar. The words Shakespeare puts into Shylock's mouth are:

"If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?

If you poison us,
do we not die?..."

(Shakespeare, Merchant of Venice Act III Scene I)

However, within this human species of ours, each of us has a unique combinaiton of alleles, making each of us an individual within populations that have different allelic frequencies, making us different enough that we notice. And we also have had handed down to us different cultural memes on what it means to be who we are.

I am sure that everyone who is the object of "diversity" has a story of feeling as patronized as I was in the story above. "Oh, I didn't notice you were black." "Some of my best friends are gay." " I just love the Jews." And so forth, ad nauseum. (To the last, I am tempted to say, "All of us? I don't even like all of us.)"

And we can make excuses for them. I have heard over and over again about how "well-meaning" these people are. About how they are trying to be inclusive, accepting, etc.

But they are not. They are people who, for whatever reason, cannot accept differences. For whatever reason, they are made uncomfortable by people who have different coloring, a different culture, different beliefs, different ways of being human. They are quite willing to erase the identity of another rather than recognize and acknowledge their own fear and discomfort. And that is not "respect for diversity." No, it is a pretense that differences do not matter. And that's a lie.

And it is a scary lie. Given enough power and the right circumstances, could people who tell themselves this lie to allay their discomfort go from erasing the identity of another to erasing the existence of another?

Hmmm. Anne Frank. Matthew Sheppard. Sand Creek. "Strange Fruit."

I think its time to call a spade an " 'f'...'in' " shovel.

Walking through the Meadow Early in the Morning

I could sleep late this week.

But the sun is up early of a summer morn.
And the cool of the night is still over the meadow. And in the meadow, the flora is burgeoning and blooming.

Staying in bed is just not an option with beauty like this just out of the door.
So I rise with the sun and walk with the dogs in the meadow--early in the morning.




The wildflowers look new and fresh--and very tall--in early morning.

Here is yellow sweet clover and purple "pinks" abloom where the road meets the meadow path.

The wet spring has given us an abundance of tall grasses and wildflowers, early summer blossoms.









And now at mid-summer, the grasses are flower in the meadow.

The morning sun slanting on the grass flowers makes them pale gold against the green of the grass stalks.








Here are yellow asters blooming in the rocky soil just where the meadow path intersects the forest trail.

They are in the sun, but the path is still in the long shadow of the ridge behind.

Although these asters are now in the bloom, the New Mexico sunflowers are not yet in bud. The stalks are growing, but they flower later in the summer.

Coming 'round to the house by the forest path, we get to pass by the Mexican Lilacs blooming in the dooryard.

Growing up in Illiniois, I loved the lilacs that bloomed in April and May next to my window. They had a wonderful, strong lilac scent that lasted only a few weeks.

The Mexican Lilacs bloom from mid-summer until fall. They have a more delicate lilac scent that lasts all summer. As the day progresses, the dooryard will hum with the activity of bees coming for lilac nectar. But in the early morning, the dooryard is quiet, waiting.

After our early morning meadow walk, the rest of the day is almost an anticlimax.

I can't imagine sleeping late and missing the cool freshness of the meadow in early morning.

On these summer morns, I come to breakfast with a heart full of wonder and graditude. I am so fortunate to be alive one more day to see the great sights of life around me, to feel the cool morning breeze off the mountain, and to hear the morning greetings of the birds.

Summer Field Studies Curriculum Has Commenced

The last twenty-four hours have marked the beginning of N.'s intensive "summer field studies curriculum."

Yesterday, after services we had several errands in town, so our Shabbat was, alas, somewhat abbreviated.

We had to visit the Boy Scout Shop to get a few things because N. was leaving for camp this morning, bright and early.
We had to drop off N.'s gear at Mrs. W.'s house, because he was assigned to her car. By packing her car a day early, she hoped to avoid accidently leaving anything behind. Smart woman, that one!

And finally, we had to go to one of the Big Box Home Improvement stores to rent a Superduty truck, go to the lumber discouter and pick up our Wood Flooring.

That was an adventure!

The pallet was stacked with 34 boxes, 4 across and 7-8 deep. It was loaded onto the drop-side bed of the rental truck with a forklift and put right in the middle. It was held together with plastic straps and shrink wrap.

Bruce assured me that it would not move. When we got to the I-25 south to I-40 east fly-over, I recommened to Bruce that we stay in the far right lane and go very slowly because there is a curve with a short radius. Bruce said, "Don't worry!" And took the curve at 50 mph in the left lane. The load shifted and two boxes appeared to be sliding off.

I reminded Bruce that there is a reason that G-d told Abraham, "Listen to your wife!"

We had to pull over and check, but Bruce could not move the heavy pallet back into place. In order to relieve my worries for the rest of the trip, I used the situation as an object lesson for N. We discussed Newton's 1st law and what is actually happening as you accelerate around a curve. We talked about centripetal force and the issue of equal and opposite forces. There's nothing like real-life, high-stakes examples to cement an idea in a kid's mind! N. demonstrated his knowledge with diagrams and equations--algebraic, though. We are not up to calculus, yet.

Thank goodness, Bruce drove slowly and sensible for the rest of the trip and the boxes of flooring are now stacked in our living room where they will sit until Thursday, when we begin our work. If you look closely you can see Bruce resting in the recliner after we man-handled 34 boxes into the house in less than 30 minutes! We're buff. And tired.

Last night, we got the last-minute stuff together for the first unit in N.'s summer intensive field studies: Boy Scout Camp.

This year the troop is spending a week at a Boy Scout Camp near Fort Davis, Texas, and I did not have to drive. In fact, we did not even have to take N. into town. The caravan agreed to meet us at the I-40 Sedillo exit.

N. was so excited last night that he could barely sleep, but he was still "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed" (we are working on metaphors) this morning when we met the caravan as the sun rose over Sedillo Hill.

There was one little hitch. I had filled out the medical form required, but the troop leader had neglected to tell me that he needed N.'s insurance card. We are waiting for the camp to call with a fax number, although we did give the information on the medical form. Since no one has called, we are guessing that the information given is probably good enough. They should be there and eating dinner by now!


The camp will be a better field experience than anything I can devise. N. has signed up to work on the following merit badges:

• Horseback Riding
• Outdoor Survival
• Rifle Shooting
• Archery

Aspects of Outdoor Cooking and Camping skills will also be taught. That's a lot of learning packed into one, short week. As I looked at the requirements for each of these, I realized that he is going to be a very busy Boy Scout this next week. And he'll come home pretty tired. And this is only part I. He'll be home a short time before he gets to fly to Chicago by himself (non-stop). That's part II of the three part field studies.

I waved good-bye with a brave smile as the caravan pulled out. I know this is good for him. I know he will have a ball. And I know he is going to learn more in the next week than he has in the last month.

But....it's going to be awefully quiet around here!