What can you do on a long four day weekend, in New York?
Among other things, you can:
1. Eat two Greek dinners near Times Square, one at a middling restaurant called Kyma on 8th Avenue, one at a terrific restaurant near Carnegie Hall, Mykovos.
2. Eat one seafood dinner in Soho, Aquagrill
3. Eat a Japanese dinner off Broadway at Rio and You (what kind of a name is that?). Don't order the yam and salmon roe appetizer, but get several orders of the hijiki (hikiji?) salad (a seaweed). And try the vegetable rice stew.
4. Have two poppy seed bagels with coffee. Not as good as what I get at home.
5. Have eggs three times, once scrambled with toast, once scrambled with turkey sausage and once scrambled with lamb sausage. Still looking for the equivalent of the lamb boxie at Gallaghers, Temple Court, Dublin.
6. Have lunch in the garden of the Cooper Hewitt, for the ambience, not the food.
7. Have a delicious bottle of blackberry juice at Juan Valdez, from Columbia (but then again so is Juan Valdez)
8. See two great plays, "The Lieutenant from Innishmore" (a comedy starring blood and guts, and a black cat), and "Avenue Q", x-rated Sesame Street. Both very clever, and very, very well done.
9. See your step nephew and his wife (combine that with Aquagrill if you like)
10. Go to the Museum of Natural History for the Darwin Exhibit (and be complemented by the ticket taker when you tell her you are eligible for a senior ticket), and trace his entire life, including the extraordinary Beagle voyage (I must re-read Alan Moorehead's book), and learn that Josiah Wedgwood was his mother's father.
11. Go to the Rubin Museum and learn about Himilayan Art. So the Rubins gave a building, 900 pieces of art, and an endowment to build this museum. (He made the money off health care premiums)
12. Go to the Jewish Museum for Eva Hess and Max Lieberman. Hess was 2 when she left Germany and came here, and died of a brain tumor while still in her 30s. She sculpted non-representational, but surprisingly evocative and pleasing pieces. LIeberman, who painted for a long career in pre-Nazi Berlin before being made a non-person, created extraordinary, non-religious works of art.
13. Go to the Cooper Hewitt to see an exhibit on the history of tableware, as well as an exhibit on the relationship of American landscape painting to tourism. The first exhibit was better than the second; it was excellent. In the basement, there is a small exhibit by French furniture/audio designer Matali Crasset, which I enjoyed a lot.
14. Go to the Met and see special exhibits on Raphael and his madonnas, photography as annotated by Susan Sontag, the history of late 20th century English dress, the art of Girodet, Queen (King) Hatshepsut of 2nd millenium BCE Egypt, and Mayan creation myths and artifacts. Enjoy Girodet the best, but be amazed at the Mayan and Egyptian exhibits. Yawn at the Raphael's, and be stimulated by the photography.
15. Go to Strand used book store, as well as several thrift shops to look through their books. This is where I found the Zencey book (see above, or is it below?)
16. Walk, take a cab and a subway
17. Buy a pair of old Italian coral earings at the Chelsea Antiques Center from 84 year old Shirley.
18. Pay too much for everything.
Monday, July 03, 2006
"Cogito Ergo Sum" (5 cents)
said Rene Descartes, French philosophe, "I think, therefore I am".
But who went him one better, when he said: "I think I think, therefore I think I am", or "Cogito cogito ergo cogito sum"?
But who went him one better, when he said: "I think I think, therefore I think I am", or "Cogito cogito ergo cogito sum"?
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Literary Disappointment(s)
After enjoying Mary Kay Zurvaleff's "The Bowl is Already Broken" so much, I had great hopes for her earlier, first novel, "The Frequency of Souls". Alas, half way through I gave up. The characters (two refrigerator engineers having an affair) left me cold.
Earlier, I had given up on another book, well before half way. That was "A Very Different Plot", one of William F. Buckley's mysteries starring Blackford Oakes, his normal (apparently) hero. Not bad, but boring, boring, boring. What? William Buckley boring? Yawn
Earlier, I had given up on another book, well before half way. That was "A Very Different Plot", one of William F. Buckley's mysteries starring Blackford Oakes, his normal (apparently) hero. Not bad, but boring, boring, boring. What? William Buckley boring? Yawn
Chef Geoff is a Cheapskate
When I see a souvenir item, I always assume it is meant to be distributed as a souvenir. So last night, after supper with one of my college roommates, the waitress at Chef Geoff's on New Mexico Avenue brought the bill, took our credit cards, and came back with the typical three copies and a Chef Geoff's pen. I signed the credit card slip, giving a 20% tip, and held on to the pen.
The waitress said: "are you going to give the pen back, or do you want to keep it?" It was a friendly question and I gave an equally friendly answer: "thought I'd keep it".
She then surprised me by saying: "ok, but I just want you to know that every time someone takes a pen, we get charged for it."
"You get charged for the pen?", I said, incredulously. "Yes. $1.19".
Chef Geoff is a cheapskate. I gave back the pen. Won't eat there any more, though.
The waitress said: "are you going to give the pen back, or do you want to keep it?" It was a friendly question and I gave an equally friendly answer: "thought I'd keep it".
She then surprised me by saying: "ok, but I just want you to know that every time someone takes a pen, we get charged for it."
"You get charged for the pen?", I said, incredulously. "Yes. $1.19".
Chef Geoff is a cheapskate. I gave back the pen. Won't eat there any more, though.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Equinox and Peter Mahks (1 cent)
Last spring I had lunch at Equinox, ordered lamb, and had one of the best tasting dishes I have ever had. Last night, back at Equinox for dinner, ordered lamb, and it was a repeat. My word of advice: if you eat at Equinox, get the lamb.
About the same time, Peter Marx wrote a devestating review of Theodore Bikel's excellent performance in "The Disputation", the story of a 13th century debate between a Christian and a Jew in Spain. He tried so hard to find bad things to say about it, that he even criticized Bikel's shoes as being too contemporary. Yesterday, Marx wrote a review of Ariel Dorfman's new play, "Picasso's Closet", which I have not yet seen. This review was reasoned, sophisticated, balanced, and very professional.
The moral of the story: Things that start out best cannot get better, but other things can. (I think that's the moral of the story.)
About the same time, Peter Marx wrote a devestating review of Theodore Bikel's excellent performance in "The Disputation", the story of a 13th century debate between a Christian and a Jew in Spain. He tried so hard to find bad things to say about it, that he even criticized Bikel's shoes as being too contemporary. Yesterday, Marx wrote a review of Ariel Dorfman's new play, "Picasso's Closet", which I have not yet seen. This review was reasoned, sophisticated, balanced, and very professional.
The moral of the story: Things that start out best cannot get better, but other things can. (I think that's the moral of the story.)
Monday, June 26, 2006
sprechen sie english?
I went back to the National Geographic crusade exhibit. The models were just as intriguing. The pictures just as alluring. Looking at the pictures closer, I realized for the first time that both sides (Christians and Moslems) built castles, and that their architecture was remarkably similar.
Then I started looking at the text on the photographic exhibits. Each is in English and French. The organization sponsoring the exhibit, however, appears to be German.
So, I now assume that both the French and English is a translation from the German. I cannot parse the French sufficiently to know, but the English is downright embarrassing, with grammatical errors, and malapropisms galore. And, in addition to the language problems, these detailed explanations, which look like they will be so helpful, in fact are not. They read like you turned to the middle of a badly written book and, as hard as you try, you just cannot figure out the plot, or the characters.
Shame on you, NG. You can do better than this.
Then I started looking at the text on the photographic exhibits. Each is in English and French. The organization sponsoring the exhibit, however, appears to be German.
So, I now assume that both the French and English is a translation from the German. I cannot parse the French sufficiently to know, but the English is downright embarrassing, with grammatical errors, and malapropisms galore. And, in addition to the language problems, these detailed explanations, which look like they will be so helpful, in fact are not. They read like you turned to the middle of a badly written book and, as hard as you try, you just cannot figure out the plot, or the characters.
Shame on you, NG. You can do better than this.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
It is very depressing...
I have recently read two books that would seem to have nothing to do with each other, "The Foot of Pride" by Malcolm Hay, published in 1950, and"African Women" by Mark Mathabane, published in 1994. "African Women" tells the story of three women, mother, daughter, granddaughter in a black township outside of Johannesburg, South Africa, and "The Foot of Pride" tells the story of the anti-Jewish (anti-Semitic) attitudes of the Catholic church throughout its history. What could they have in common?
The Catholic church, for reasons both political and economic, determined (consciously or not) to make the Jews the theological bad guys, the most dangerous elements in society, and enemies of Christendom. The results were predictable. The Jews were persecuted (with short term lapses) incessently. The South African all-white ruling classes determined, for reasons both political and economic, that the black South Africans were the social bad guys, the most dangerous elements in society, and the enemies of civilized society. The blacks were persecuted incessently.
But there is also a difference. The persecuted Jewish community was persecuted because of its belief system, and this belief system remained by and large in place, avoiding Jew vs. Jew violence. The persecuted black community did not have a coherent belief system to hold it together, so it fragmented. One of the most serious aspects of this fragmentation, brought about by and large as a result of economic pressures, was the disintegration of male-female relationships.
Today, the Catholic church has dropped many of its theological anti-Jewish positions, and the South African government is by and large in the hands of the formerly persecuted blacks. Clearly, Catholic countries still have anti-Semites, and there are still South African whites who are prejudiced against blacks. But times have changed, presumably for the better.
I am not sure I am saying anything very profound here, but looking at the terrible problems these three African women had with the men in their lives (and I mean terrible problems), I saw a commonality with the problems that the Jews had in Catholic Europe. Being treated as something less than human. And being helpless to do anything about it.
Maybe, persecution is persecution, wherever it occurs. It is the result of politics and economics, and it is the same, whether its victims are the Jews of Catholic Europe, or the black women of apartheid South Africa.
The Catholic church, for reasons both political and economic, determined (consciously or not) to make the Jews the theological bad guys, the most dangerous elements in society, and enemies of Christendom. The results were predictable. The Jews were persecuted (with short term lapses) incessently. The South African all-white ruling classes determined, for reasons both political and economic, that the black South Africans were the social bad guys, the most dangerous elements in society, and the enemies of civilized society. The blacks were persecuted incessently.
But there is also a difference. The persecuted Jewish community was persecuted because of its belief system, and this belief system remained by and large in place, avoiding Jew vs. Jew violence. The persecuted black community did not have a coherent belief system to hold it together, so it fragmented. One of the most serious aspects of this fragmentation, brought about by and large as a result of economic pressures, was the disintegration of male-female relationships.
Today, the Catholic church has dropped many of its theological anti-Jewish positions, and the South African government is by and large in the hands of the formerly persecuted blacks. Clearly, Catholic countries still have anti-Semites, and there are still South African whites who are prejudiced against blacks. But times have changed, presumably for the better.
I am not sure I am saying anything very profound here, but looking at the terrible problems these three African women had with the men in their lives (and I mean terrible problems), I saw a commonality with the problems that the Jews had in Catholic Europe. Being treated as something less than human. And being helpless to do anything about it.
Maybe, persecution is persecution, wherever it occurs. It is the result of politics and economics, and it is the same, whether its victims are the Jews of Catholic Europe, or the black women of apartheid South Africa.
If you wanted to see.......
1. Extraordinary photos of Antarctica taken by a professional photographer who has taken several trips to photograph both natural scenes and various bases for scientific exploration......
2. A fascinating exhibit on Sikh history, religion and culture in Punjab, with detailed yet readable explanations beside the photographs and items on display.......
3. An exhibit of about 50 photographs taken in the 1920s in China and Inner Mongolia for the National Geographic on an expedition co-sponsored by Harvard, whose leader was the son of the founder of the Baldwin Piano company........
4. A very detailed and easy to follow exhibit on the Lewis & Clark expedition with maps, books, photos, and items belonging to the explorers and used on the trip, as well as contemporary Indian artifacts, etc.......
5. A significant exhibit on the effect of global warming on the Arctic.......,
where would you go?
2. A fascinating exhibit on Sikh history, religion and culture in Punjab, with detailed yet readable explanations beside the photographs and items on display.......
3. An exhibit of about 50 photographs taken in the 1920s in China and Inner Mongolia for the National Geographic on an expedition co-sponsored by Harvard, whose leader was the son of the founder of the Baldwin Piano company........
4. A very detailed and easy to follow exhibit on the Lewis & Clark expedition with maps, books, photos, and items belonging to the explorers and used on the trip, as well as contemporary Indian artifacts, etc.......
5. A significant exhibit on the effect of global warming on the Arctic.......,
where would you go?
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Sound Travels Faster Than Light?
I know that is not what is normally taught, but how else do you explain the following:
Last night the Nationals played the Orioles. The game was televised on Comcast sports, the normal network that televises Orioles games. It was on the radio on 1500 AM, the normal Nats station.
I decided to watch the game with the sound off, and turn the radio on so that I had announcers biased towards DC and not Baltimore.
To my suprise, I found that the radio cast was about five seconds in front of the telecast. In other words, on the radio that would say "a fast ball, strike two" when, on the television, the pitcher had not yet begun his wind up.
Needless to say, I had to give up my preferred plan and listen to the Orioles announcers.
Why is this the case? Do radio waves travel faster than live cable tv signals? Or do the Orioles want to make sure that no one listens to the Nats announcers?
Last night the Nationals played the Orioles. The game was televised on Comcast sports, the normal network that televises Orioles games. It was on the radio on 1500 AM, the normal Nats station.
I decided to watch the game with the sound off, and turn the radio on so that I had announcers biased towards DC and not Baltimore.
To my suprise, I found that the radio cast was about five seconds in front of the telecast. In other words, on the radio that would say "a fast ball, strike two" when, on the television, the pitcher had not yet begun his wind up.
Needless to say, I had to give up my preferred plan and listen to the Orioles announcers.
Why is this the case? Do radio waves travel faster than live cable tv signals? Or do the Orioles want to make sure that no one listens to the Nats announcers?
Thursday, June 22, 2006
What is Promise Whittaker doing now? (25 cents)
In case you don't know, Promise Whittaker is the central character in Mary Kay Zuravleff's "The Bowl is Already Broken", a 2005 novel that ranks today number 338,420 in the amazon.com listing of books by number of sales.
Are there 338,419 better books on the market? No, way.
This novel, written by a friend of my wife's, is the story of Ms. Whittaker, a scholar of medieval Persian poetry who finds herself very unexpectedly named acting director of an Asian Art Museum on the Mall (that is in everything but name, the Freer) at the time there is a crisis threatening the museum's existence. Balancing the eccentricities of the museum's staffers, with the demands of her two elementary school children, and her husband who works at Amnesty International and looks at everything from a global political perspective, she needs to find a way to explain how a priceless Chinese vase is dropped and shattered at a public ceremony, and to understand why the Smithsonian wants to close the museum and move the art work to the National Gallery. To make matters more complicated, Promise finds out that she, at age 43 and quite unexpectedly is pregnant, that one of her top researchers has embezzled thousands of dollars from her travel account, and that the Castle wants to turn the museum building into a food court, that her predecessor has been kidnapped on an archeological dig in a remote and hardly civilized country. What more can go wrong?
The book is very engrossing, very clever, extremely well written, and hard to put down.
Eighteen readers commented on the Amazon site. Seventeen of the eighteen gave the book 5 stars or just about 5 stars. One reader gave it zero stars and said it was the worst book ever. Were it not for this one review, this book would have been a five star book. So, why is it number 338,420?
Are there 338,419 better books on the market? No, way.
This novel, written by a friend of my wife's, is the story of Ms. Whittaker, a scholar of medieval Persian poetry who finds herself very unexpectedly named acting director of an Asian Art Museum on the Mall (that is in everything but name, the Freer) at the time there is a crisis threatening the museum's existence. Balancing the eccentricities of the museum's staffers, with the demands of her two elementary school children, and her husband who works at Amnesty International and looks at everything from a global political perspective, she needs to find a way to explain how a priceless Chinese vase is dropped and shattered at a public ceremony, and to understand why the Smithsonian wants to close the museum and move the art work to the National Gallery. To make matters more complicated, Promise finds out that she, at age 43 and quite unexpectedly is pregnant, that one of her top researchers has embezzled thousands of dollars from her travel account, and that the Castle wants to turn the museum building into a food court, that her predecessor has been kidnapped on an archeological dig in a remote and hardly civilized country. What more can go wrong?
The book is very engrossing, very clever, extremely well written, and hard to put down.
Eighteen readers commented on the Amazon site. Seventeen of the eighteen gave the book 5 stars or just about 5 stars. One reader gave it zero stars and said it was the worst book ever. Were it not for this one review, this book would have been a five star book. So, why is it number 338,420?
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Clang, Clang (25 cents)
The Tuesday concert at the Church of the Epiphany was by Brass of Peace, a 25 year old organization that sponsors a high school brass ensemble. Participating were 10 high school students and 8 alumni, led by NSO horn player Sylvia Alimena.
The highlight of the program was Benjamin Britten's "Funeral Music", composed during the Spanish Civil War, and a very powerful, evocative piece. Unfortunately, it was followed by Bruckner's "Ave Maria" and "Antiphon", which left me cold (as Bruckner always does).
The church's accoustics are perfect for brass instruments and the musicians were good, but they are clearly not professional and I couldn't help thinking, listening to the program, how good it would sound in professional hands. This is not to criticize the highschoolers; after all, they are highschoolers.
I did not stay for the last two pieces, which were on the 'pop', more than the classical side. Gershwin's "Summertime" is, to me, a vocal piece, not one for trumpets, horns, trombones and tubas, and Glenn Miller's "In the Mood" is for reeds, not brass.
The highlight of the program was Benjamin Britten's "Funeral Music", composed during the Spanish Civil War, and a very powerful, evocative piece. Unfortunately, it was followed by Bruckner's "Ave Maria" and "Antiphon", which left me cold (as Bruckner always does).
The church's accoustics are perfect for brass instruments and the musicians were good, but they are clearly not professional and I couldn't help thinking, listening to the program, how good it would sound in professional hands. This is not to criticize the highschoolers; after all, they are highschoolers.
I did not stay for the last two pieces, which were on the 'pop', more than the classical side. Gershwin's "Summertime" is, to me, a vocal piece, not one for trumpets, horns, trombones and tubas, and Glenn Miller's "In the Mood" is for reeds, not brass.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Ancient Scrolls, Medieval Castles, and For All You Sports Fans........
The National Geographic Society Museum is a treat this month. I have not yet given it the attention it deserves.
For one thing, it is exhibiting several papyrus pages of the 4th century scrolls, recently found in Egypt and now being studied, including the Gospel of Judas. The scrolls are obviously fascinating to look at, and the explanations are very interesting, going into the discovery, the creation of the scrolls, the language, the contents, the dating and the preservation. You can also watch on a small screen tv the NG cable show where all this is visualized.
I can't say that I understand the Gospel of Judas, other than to know that, until now everyone assumed (and most probably still do) that Judas was evil, and this Gospel makes him a good guy. Of course, I don't understand fundamental Christian theology at all. I don't know what makes someone good or bad in Christian religious terms. As I understand the thinking, God put Jesus on earth to suffer and die for the sins of mankind, and Judas, along with Pontius Pilate and a bunch of Romans and some Jewish leaders, went along and assisted in the suffer and die part. Does that make them bad because they made Jesus suffer and die? Or does that make them good, because they were fulfilling God's plan? It seems to me you can't have it both ways.
But what do I know?
In any event, after you ponder all of this, you are transported about 1000 years later, and you see very large and detailed models of a Crusader Castle and of an Arab bazaar. Very neat. And there is signage to tell you all about the many, many crusader castles, with maps, descriptions of architecture and usage and photos and individual descriptive information about (I would guess 20 to 30 of them).
And, if that is not enough, you get a third exhibit (and this museum is pretty small) about how soccer is played around the world. Not that I found this one very interesting: pictures of people playing soccer in Africa and in Europe and in Latin America. Folks, no matter where it is, they seem to play the same and dress the same.
But, forget about the pictures on the wall. What you get is a VERY large screen projection TV, tuned to ESPN2, showing you World Cup action live, with bleachers built so about 25 people can watch at any time.
The scrolls leave June 9; the other exhibits are there until September, along with a photographic exhibit about to open featuring pictures taken by someone named Reza who has been photographing wars and tragedies for decades.
For one thing, it is exhibiting several papyrus pages of the 4th century scrolls, recently found in Egypt and now being studied, including the Gospel of Judas. The scrolls are obviously fascinating to look at, and the explanations are very interesting, going into the discovery, the creation of the scrolls, the language, the contents, the dating and the preservation. You can also watch on a small screen tv the NG cable show where all this is visualized.
I can't say that I understand the Gospel of Judas, other than to know that, until now everyone assumed (and most probably still do) that Judas was evil, and this Gospel makes him a good guy. Of course, I don't understand fundamental Christian theology at all. I don't know what makes someone good or bad in Christian religious terms. As I understand the thinking, God put Jesus on earth to suffer and die for the sins of mankind, and Judas, along with Pontius Pilate and a bunch of Romans and some Jewish leaders, went along and assisted in the suffer and die part. Does that make them bad because they made Jesus suffer and die? Or does that make them good, because they were fulfilling God's plan? It seems to me you can't have it both ways.
But what do I know?
In any event, after you ponder all of this, you are transported about 1000 years later, and you see very large and detailed models of a Crusader Castle and of an Arab bazaar. Very neat. And there is signage to tell you all about the many, many crusader castles, with maps, descriptions of architecture and usage and photos and individual descriptive information about (I would guess 20 to 30 of them).
And, if that is not enough, you get a third exhibit (and this museum is pretty small) about how soccer is played around the world. Not that I found this one very interesting: pictures of people playing soccer in Africa and in Europe and in Latin America. Folks, no matter where it is, they seem to play the same and dress the same.
But, forget about the pictures on the wall. What you get is a VERY large screen projection TV, tuned to ESPN2, showing you World Cup action live, with bleachers built so about 25 people can watch at any time.
The scrolls leave June 9; the other exhibits are there until September, along with a photographic exhibit about to open featuring pictures taken by someone named Reza who has been photographing wars and tragedies for decades.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Bethesda/Chevy Chase
Friends of ours invited us to a party held last night in honor of their son and future daughter in law. The wedding is to take place elsewhere and this was the celebration for their Washington friends.
The save the date card came eons ago and we marked our calendars. The invitation came about six or eight weeks ago. We looked at it and remembered it was to be held at the Chevy Chase Women's Club.
Yesterday, we looked at the invitation again to check the time, and left our house driving up Connecticut Avenue to the affair. The parking lot at the Women's Club was 100% empty.
We were not sure what happened. We knew we had the date and time and venue correctly. We knew there was to be a party because we saw a number of the attendees earlier in the day. All we could think of was that they had changed the locale and told everyone but us. It made little sense.
Driving home, we pondered. Arriving home, we looked at the invitation, and saw that the party was at the Bethesda Women's Club. Who knew that there was a Bethesda Women's Club? There is a single Chevy Chase-Bethesda High School. Neither Chevy Chase nor Bethesda is a political jurisdiction, so there are no definitive boundaries between them. Why would there be two locations? And why would they choose this one, which we were not even familiar with.
Back in the car, back out Connecticut Avenue, but this time clipping over East West Highway and Old Georgetown Road. We got to the party almost an hour late (but in time for the food).
Telling our tale to the host, he told me that he had recently been to a function at the Chevy Chase Women's Club given by a Jewish lady and how that never would have happened in the olden days because the club was restricted. I didn't know that, but perhaps that is why there was a separate Bethesda Club. Maybe that was the club that Christians could not go to. I don't know.
Neither of these clubs seem like clubs. They are white painted one storey brick buildings with what looks like a vestibule, a party room and a kitchen. Do they have members? What do they do there? Can men join? There certainly is not Chevy Chase or Bethesda Men's Club.
Is there?
The save the date card came eons ago and we marked our calendars. The invitation came about six or eight weeks ago. We looked at it and remembered it was to be held at the Chevy Chase Women's Club.
Yesterday, we looked at the invitation again to check the time, and left our house driving up Connecticut Avenue to the affair. The parking lot at the Women's Club was 100% empty.
We were not sure what happened. We knew we had the date and time and venue correctly. We knew there was to be a party because we saw a number of the attendees earlier in the day. All we could think of was that they had changed the locale and told everyone but us. It made little sense.
Driving home, we pondered. Arriving home, we looked at the invitation, and saw that the party was at the Bethesda Women's Club. Who knew that there was a Bethesda Women's Club? There is a single Chevy Chase-Bethesda High School. Neither Chevy Chase nor Bethesda is a political jurisdiction, so there are no definitive boundaries between them. Why would there be two locations? And why would they choose this one, which we were not even familiar with.
Back in the car, back out Connecticut Avenue, but this time clipping over East West Highway and Old Georgetown Road. We got to the party almost an hour late (but in time for the food).
Telling our tale to the host, he told me that he had recently been to a function at the Chevy Chase Women's Club given by a Jewish lady and how that never would have happened in the olden days because the club was restricted. I didn't know that, but perhaps that is why there was a separate Bethesda Club. Maybe that was the club that Christians could not go to. I don't know.
Neither of these clubs seem like clubs. They are white painted one storey brick buildings with what looks like a vestibule, a party room and a kitchen. Do they have members? What do they do there? Can men join? There certainly is not Chevy Chase or Bethesda Men's Club.
Is there?
Friday, June 16, 2006
Bob Seeger (2 cents)
I am at a client reception last night, and the talk turns to Bob Seeger. I say "never heard of him. The only Seeger I know is Pete Seeger". At first, no one believes me and then, as they realize that I at least think I am telling the truth, another form of disbelief enters their mind.
I now understand that he is a rock and roll singer.
I am posting this for two reasons. First, it may help remember Bob Seeger the next time his name comes up. And second, when it does, I will be able to say: "Do I know Bob Seeger? Not only do I know who he is, I have written about him."
I now understand that he is a rock and roll singer.
I am posting this for two reasons. First, it may help remember Bob Seeger the next time his name comes up. And second, when it does, I will be able to say: "Do I know Bob Seeger? Not only do I know who he is, I have written about him."
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Food Report
Lest anyone think I have not sampled the city's restaurants since I have been home, I have eaten at the Pacific Bar and Restaurant, a Vietnamese restaurant on Capitol Hill, the Parthenon and Arucola in Chevy Chase, McCormick and Schmick on K Street, the L'Enfant Plaza Hotel, Cosi's, Au Bon Pain and Rose Mexicano. Ranking my meals, I would say Arucola, McCormick and Schmick, L'Enfant Plaza Hotel, Cosi, Rosa Mexicano, Parthenon and Pacific Bar and Restaurant in that order.
Man on the Street (2 cents)
So, i walk out of my office today and turn down 17th Street towards K. I see a homeless man (at least by all appearances) near the corner with a half gallon of milk in one hand, and what looks like some sort of a sandwich or wrap in the other. He alternates between bites and sips. Then, he must be full, without having finished either. Near the corner are a row of newpaper vendor stands of various sorts. He opens one that contains free newspapers. It is about half full with papers not yet taken by passersby by. He puts the lid on the milk carton and wraps up his sandwich. He lays them neatly on the newspapers in the vendor stand, closes it up, and walks down the street.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Colleen Wagner's "The Monument" (16 cents)
is playing at the Theater Alliance on H Street NE. It is a two person, one act play (80 minutes long) dealing with a young man who, in the [unnamed] war committed many atrocities including the rape and murder of 23 women. A woman rescues him from execution as a war criminal by making with him a pseudo-Mephistophiclean agreement that he can live as long as he will do anything she asks, whatever it may be. He agrees.
She winds up torturing him.
Well, the play, which won some Canadian awards, and has been well reviewed by the Post, has some good dramatic moments, but more that are a bit tedious, distasteful and tendentious (whatever that means). It is very well acted.
Moral dilemmas. Sure, he did awful things. But at what point does the good soldier turn into the war criminal? At what point is an eye for an eye good moral policy? Is his savior/torturer any better than he is? Are the two of them in fact peas of a sort of pod, bound together for life?
We saw a play years ago called "Extremities", where a woman captures her would-be rapist and tortures him. We saw Ariel Dorfman's "Death and the Maiden", where a former tortured female prisoner in an unamed Latin American country confronts her torturer years later, by chance.
All these plays present questions. None give any answers. Perhaps there are none.
Should you see this play (which closes this weekend)? If you like staged torture scenes which are well performed, why not?
She winds up torturing him.
Well, the play, which won some Canadian awards, and has been well reviewed by the Post, has some good dramatic moments, but more that are a bit tedious, distasteful and tendentious (whatever that means). It is very well acted.
Moral dilemmas. Sure, he did awful things. But at what point does the good soldier turn into the war criminal? At what point is an eye for an eye good moral policy? Is his savior/torturer any better than he is? Are the two of them in fact peas of a sort of pod, bound together for life?
We saw a play years ago called "Extremities", where a woman captures her would-be rapist and tortures him. We saw Ariel Dorfman's "Death and the Maiden", where a former tortured female prisoner in an unamed Latin American country confronts her torturer years later, by chance.
All these plays present questions. None give any answers. Perhaps there are none.
Should you see this play (which closes this weekend)? If you like staged torture scenes which are well performed, why not?
Monday, June 12, 2006
My Parking Garage
The attendants at my garage are an international bunch. I don't know where all of them come from.
I am sure that they are just a fine group of fellows, but.......
on some level, I am convinced that, when the revolution comes, this group is going to lead the forces that will be out to get me. I see it in their eyes.
I am sure that they are just a fine group of fellows, but.......
on some level, I am convinced that, when the revolution comes, this group is going to lead the forces that will be out to get me. I see it in their eyes.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Michelle Asks About Prague
She is correct. On the Israel trip, I did finish the 'Travelers' Tales Guide' book: "Prague and the Czech Republic". Although I had read the vast majority of it earlier.
It is an extraordinary book.
It is one of a series of anthologies written by and for travelers to various countries and cities across the world. Whether the others are as good, I don't know. I do know that the others cannot be any better.
There are 42 separate first party stories of traveling to, or living in, Prague or other parts of the Czech Republic. Almost everyone of them is a gem, both informative, humorous, and individual.
We spent several days in Prague last summer; I had been there once before during its dark Communist days. I noted many things about Prague on these short visits. Every single one of them is noted in one or more of these short pieces.
I won't even try to describe the stories. You have to read them yourselves. I will say that, as I ended the book, I thought to myself: the only thing they missed was the Velkopopovicky dark beer that we discovered and liked so much.
And there it was, on page 301 of this 302 page book. "They can't afford to go to the old vinamas in their own neighborhoods any more...only tourists can afford that place, Anna will say with contempt, as if she never wanted to go there anyway, thought it was once her pub, where she could get a glass of Volkopopopvicky Kozel for a dime."
As I said, this book is perfect.
It is an extraordinary book.
It is one of a series of anthologies written by and for travelers to various countries and cities across the world. Whether the others are as good, I don't know. I do know that the others cannot be any better.
There are 42 separate first party stories of traveling to, or living in, Prague or other parts of the Czech Republic. Almost everyone of them is a gem, both informative, humorous, and individual.
We spent several days in Prague last summer; I had been there once before during its dark Communist days. I noted many things about Prague on these short visits. Every single one of them is noted in one or more of these short pieces.
I won't even try to describe the stories. You have to read them yourselves. I will say that, as I ended the book, I thought to myself: the only thing they missed was the Velkopopovicky dark beer that we discovered and liked so much.
And there it was, on page 301 of this 302 page book. "They can't afford to go to the old vinamas in their own neighborhoods any more...only tourists can afford that place, Anna will say with contempt, as if she never wanted to go there anyway, thought it was once her pub, where she could get a glass of Volkopopopvicky Kozel for a dime."
As I said, this book is perfect.
Viva Mexico (2 cents)
Congratulations to Mexico on its 3-1 World Cup victory over Iran.
I am not sure what my reaction would have been if today's Iran had won a World Cup match in a stadium in Nuremberg.
Even for me, that would have been too much.
I am not sure what my reaction would have been if today's Iran had won a World Cup match in a stadium in Nuremberg.
Even for me, that would have been too much.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Embarrassing Readings?
I hate to admit it, but my reading on my Israel trip left a lot to be desired.
My goal was to read a book called "The Coffee Trader" by David Liss, which I understood to be the story of how a Jewish merchant and a Dutch widow worked together to bring coffee to the market in 17th century Amsterday, popularizing a drink designed to sharpen the wits of businessmen, and which had previously been drunk only in places like Turkey and other parts of the middle east. My disappointment was that the book was a historical novel; I did not know that and had expected a history. My disappointment was increased when I discovered that the book was not particularly well written. I closed the book after about 100 pages.
Then, I got busy and it was not until I had a chance to fish around in a couple of used book stores in Jerusalem (there are many there) that I found a couple of signed, English language books which I acquired.
Well, the first one that I decided to read was the autobiography of, believe it or not, Grace Slick, who had been the Jefferson Airplane vocalist among other things. 'A rock and roll memoir' says that cover page. Well, if anything can convince you that a life of sex, drugs and rock and roll is dull, dull, dull, this book can. Dull, dull, dull.
Then, I moved to a book that I assumed would be equally worthless as a read, but for different reasons. Called "Visions and Jewels", written by Moyshe Oyved, and published in the 1920's, it tells the story of a restless Jewish teenager from Poland, who with a friend runs away to England at age 16 (in 1903) and, after several twists and turns, becomes a successful jeweler, re-named Edward Good, and owner of a shop called the Cameo Corner. In fact, the book, which tells of the trials and tribulations of a talented but impoverished immigrant into London's East End, and not only how he builds a retail business, but how he develops his literary sensibilities and becomes not only a multi-book author, but a friend to London's Jewish and non-Jewish literary community. In fact, it was a fascinating find.
My goal was to read a book called "The Coffee Trader" by David Liss, which I understood to be the story of how a Jewish merchant and a Dutch widow worked together to bring coffee to the market in 17th century Amsterday, popularizing a drink designed to sharpen the wits of businessmen, and which had previously been drunk only in places like Turkey and other parts of the middle east. My disappointment was that the book was a historical novel; I did not know that and had expected a history. My disappointment was increased when I discovered that the book was not particularly well written. I closed the book after about 100 pages.
Then, I got busy and it was not until I had a chance to fish around in a couple of used book stores in Jerusalem (there are many there) that I found a couple of signed, English language books which I acquired.
Well, the first one that I decided to read was the autobiography of, believe it or not, Grace Slick, who had been the Jefferson Airplane vocalist among other things. 'A rock and roll memoir' says that cover page. Well, if anything can convince you that a life of sex, drugs and rock and roll is dull, dull, dull, this book can. Dull, dull, dull.
Then, I moved to a book that I assumed would be equally worthless as a read, but for different reasons. Called "Visions and Jewels", written by Moyshe Oyved, and published in the 1920's, it tells the story of a restless Jewish teenager from Poland, who with a friend runs away to England at age 16 (in 1903) and, after several twists and turns, becomes a successful jeweler, re-named Edward Good, and owner of a shop called the Cameo Corner. In fact, the book, which tells of the trials and tribulations of a talented but impoverished immigrant into London's East End, and not only how he builds a retail business, but how he develops his literary sensibilities and becomes not only a multi-book author, but a friend to London's Jewish and non-Jewish literary community. In fact, it was a fascinating find.
Friday, June 09, 2006
The Dog Days of Israel (1 cent)
This morning, here in Washington, I was taking an early walk and passed a woman and her very handsome Boston terrier.
I like watching dogs, although I have always believed they should lead independent lives, not be house pets, and have all of the rights of other citizens, but no more. I certainly do not want to have, or be tied down by, a canine.
Having said that, this morning's terrier reminded me of the extraordinary number of dogs that you see in Israel, and how proud and handsome they appear, whether walking with their owners or on their own (if Israel has leash laws, they do not seem to be enforced).
So, next time you think about Israel, it's ok to think about the Jews and the Muslims, but don't forget the dogs. And when you see newscasts about the suicide bombers and all that other stuff, it is ok to bemoan all of that (of course), but don't forget the dogs. Perhaps they shall inherit the promised land. The dog days of Israel.
I like watching dogs, although I have always believed they should lead independent lives, not be house pets, and have all of the rights of other citizens, but no more. I certainly do not want to have, or be tied down by, a canine.
Having said that, this morning's terrier reminded me of the extraordinary number of dogs that you see in Israel, and how proud and handsome they appear, whether walking with their owners or on their own (if Israel has leash laws, they do not seem to be enforced).
So, next time you think about Israel, it's ok to think about the Jews and the Muslims, but don't forget the dogs. And when you see newscasts about the suicide bombers and all that other stuff, it is ok to bemoan all of that (of course), but don't forget the dogs. Perhaps they shall inherit the promised land. The dog days of Israel.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Think of a laboratory mouse in a cage (22 cents)
The cage is rectangular and has three or four mouse-treadmills. The circular kind, shaped like a ferris wheel. The mouse runs and runs on the bottom, the treadmill goes around and around, and the mouse gets nowhere.
The mouse gets tired of the particular treadmill it is on, and moves to one of the others, where the scene is simply repeated.
On and on it goes, infinitely running and changing treadmills. You would expect it will do this 'til its last breath.
The mouse is frustrated. It wishes it were not on a treadmill. It believes that there must be a way to combine the treadmills, so it does not have to go from one to another. Maybe this would happen if it went faster,....or slower. The mouse knows that if it could only bring the treadmills together, it would end the confusion of its life and enter into that period of bliss and relaxation that has always escaped it.
This is what I thought of the night before last, as I listened to Ariel Dorfman speak at the Nextbook Author Series. Ariel Dorfman, on the Anglo treadmill, the Latino treadmill, the Jewish treadmill, the defender-of-the-downtrodden treadmill, the writer treadmill, the talking head treadmill, the academic treadmill, the family treadmill.
Whew. If only he didn't seem to approach everything just like my imagined laboratory mouse.
The mouse gets tired of the particular treadmill it is on, and moves to one of the others, where the scene is simply repeated.
On and on it goes, infinitely running and changing treadmills. You would expect it will do this 'til its last breath.
The mouse is frustrated. It wishes it were not on a treadmill. It believes that there must be a way to combine the treadmills, so it does not have to go from one to another. Maybe this would happen if it went faster,....or slower. The mouse knows that if it could only bring the treadmills together, it would end the confusion of its life and enter into that period of bliss and relaxation that has always escaped it.
This is what I thought of the night before last, as I listened to Ariel Dorfman speak at the Nextbook Author Series. Ariel Dorfman, on the Anglo treadmill, the Latino treadmill, the Jewish treadmill, the defender-of-the-downtrodden treadmill, the writer treadmill, the talking head treadmill, the academic treadmill, the family treadmill.
Whew. If only he didn't seem to approach everything just like my imagined laboratory mouse.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Plumb Out of Explanations (31 cents)
Here is the short version:
1. Our kitchen sink spigot needs a new thingamagig, because water has begun to splay in all directions when you turn it on. An upstairs bathroom sink spigot needs a new internal thingamabob, because when you turn it off, unless you point it all the way to "cold", there remains a slow, annoying drip.
2. I leave the country for twelve days; my wife stays home.
3. I return and there is a new, perfectly functioning thingamagig on the kitchen spigot and a new, perfectly functioning thingamabob on the bathroom sink spigot.
4. My wife says that there was no plumber in the house while I was gone, and that, while she noticed everything was fixed as well, she has no explanation.
1. Our kitchen sink spigot needs a new thingamagig, because water has begun to splay in all directions when you turn it on. An upstairs bathroom sink spigot needs a new internal thingamabob, because when you turn it off, unless you point it all the way to "cold", there remains a slow, annoying drip.
2. I leave the country for twelve days; my wife stays home.
3. I return and there is a new, perfectly functioning thingamagig on the kitchen spigot and a new, perfectly functioning thingamabob on the bathroom sink spigot.
4. My wife says that there was no plumber in the house while I was gone, and that, while she noticed everything was fixed as well, she has no explanation.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Let's Start With Something Important (26 cents)
Obviously, blogging from Israel did not work, and I think I will write up the trip elsewhere, so we are starting here from scratch.
Let's start with something important: Zips.
If you get your clothes into Zips by 9 a.m., you can get them back the same day by 5 p.m. It was when I was leaving the house, with the intention of going to Zips and dropping my clothes off on the way to the office, that it struck me: it was 9:05 a.m. That meant that I would not be able to get my clothes back until tomorrow.
I was furious that I had missed this important deadline. Of course, I did not need my clothes back at 5 p.m. today. And, in fact, even if I had arrived at Zips at 8:59, I had not even intended to pick up my clothes today (and in fact it would be logistically impossible because of my schedule tonight). But I was very mad at myself. And still am.
I have heard of road rage. Can someone explain to me the psychology of clothes rage?
Let's start with something important: Zips.
If you get your clothes into Zips by 9 a.m., you can get them back the same day by 5 p.m. It was when I was leaving the house, with the intention of going to Zips and dropping my clothes off on the way to the office, that it struck me: it was 9:05 a.m. That meant that I would not be able to get my clothes back until tomorrow.
I was furious that I had missed this important deadline. Of course, I did not need my clothes back at 5 p.m. today. And, in fact, even if I had arrived at Zips at 8:59, I had not even intended to pick up my clothes today (and in fact it would be logistically impossible because of my schedule tonight). But I was very mad at myself. And still am.
I have heard of road rage. Can someone explain to me the psychology of clothes rage?
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Caroline Is a Must; Yellow Brick Bank a Bust (14 cents)
Caroline, or Change (something like that), Tony Kushner's musical at the Studio is an absolute MUST. It is clear that the reviews (it is now in previews) will say that, but you heard it here first. (No time now for details)
We went to Shepardstown to have a nice lunch before I leave town for two weeks, and went to the Yellow Brick Bank, where we have had several very nice meals. Well, their lunch menu is not their dinner menu, so don't go there before the sun goes down.
Before the theater we did have a good meal at Viridian (a shade of green I am told, the comes when copper oxidizes--I am leaving a couple of pennies outside to see) next door to the Studio. Its speciality is artistic presentation, the food is good but not quite as good as the presentation and a little too expensive, and the sun comes in as the sun goes down. Do it again? Only perhaps.
Off to Israel in 30 minutes for 12 days. With luck and connections, the blog will continue from there. If not, i will pick up on June 3.
We went to Shepardstown to have a nice lunch before I leave town for two weeks, and went to the Yellow Brick Bank, where we have had several very nice meals. Well, their lunch menu is not their dinner menu, so don't go there before the sun goes down.
Before the theater we did have a good meal at Viridian (a shade of green I am told, the comes when copper oxidizes--I am leaving a couple of pennies outside to see) next door to the Studio. Its speciality is artistic presentation, the food is good but not quite as good as the presentation and a little too expensive, and the sun comes in as the sun goes down. Do it again? Only perhaps.
Off to Israel in 30 minutes for 12 days. With luck and connections, the blog will continue from there. If not, i will pick up on June 3.
Friday, May 19, 2006
Messages from Above (Hard to Believe, But True) (54 cents)
So, God tells Pat Robertson that there might be a strong tsunami in Washington or Oregon. Worried?
Well, listen to this one.
On the various same night, God tells me that Pat Robertson is a fool and should never be believed!!
So here we seem to have God saying two, totally irreconcilable things.
If you can't trust God to be truthful, whom can you trust?
Well, listen to this one.
On the various same night, God tells me that Pat Robertson is a fool and should never be believed!!
So here we seem to have God saying two, totally irreconcilable things.
If you can't trust God to be truthful, whom can you trust?
Thursday, May 18, 2006
"This I Cannot Forget" (41 cents)
"This I Cannot Forget" is a remarkable book by Anna Larina Bukharina, the widow of Bolshevik Nicholai Bukharin, who spent twenty years in the Siberian Gulag, returning to Moscow in 1959, and writing her memoirs of her life with Bukharin thirty years later.
The book is remarkable in several respects. Most importantly, the author was not onlly the wife of a prominent Bolshevike leader murdered during the Stalinist purges of the 1960s, but the daughter of another. In fact, her husband was a contemporary of her father's, thirty years older than she. Because of her background, she knew everyone - Lenin, Stalin, Beria, you name him; she knew him. And she knew their spouses and their children. Thus her story of life in the exciting days of the revolution through the extraordinarily tragic days of Stalin's regime comes from a perspective like none other. And her portraits of all of these famous Russian politicians is unmatched.
Secondly, her husband was a remarkable man, breaking with Stalin on a number of things, but most significantly on whether there was a need to collectivize the peasantry with all of the horror and dislocation which went along with it. As Stalin grew more power hungry and paranoid, as allies became traitors, as friends became stool pigeons, you could see a world crumble, a world created by like minded people who grew more and more fearful and venal.
And, you see the gulag itself. Prisons and workcamps scattered across the vast Russian expanses, and the amount of work that went into keeping the system going. Work by dedicated (and terrified) Communists, who themselves would become victims the next month or the next year. Like the Nazi concentration camps, we have an extraordinary amount of organization and expense and activity---and for what?
The style of the book is also unique. It is not quite chronological. She is thinking back to her time in prison, and thinking back to her thoughts, while in prison, of her childhood and her adolescence. It is flashback upon flashback, without rhyme or reason as to sequence, it would seem, but bringing about a fascinating weave of reminiscences.
How accurate are her extraordinarily detailed memories of events and conversations and speeches and gossip of 60 years before? I obviously don't know. But they sound accurate. And she comes across as brilliant.
She says that there are two more books to be written. A book about her twenty years in the gulag, not concentrating on Bukharin, but on her contemporary experiences more and over a longer period of time. And a book about her life after she was freed, and after her late husband was brought back into repute by Gorbachev. But they never will be written it appears, as she died in her upper 80s about ten years ago without writing them.
Do you have to be a Russian devotee to read the book? Yes, to understand the cast of characters. But not at all to get a feel for the author, the times, and the people. This book is to be highly recommended.
The book is remarkable in several respects. Most importantly, the author was not onlly the wife of a prominent Bolshevike leader murdered during the Stalinist purges of the 1960s, but the daughter of another. In fact, her husband was a contemporary of her father's, thirty years older than she. Because of her background, she knew everyone - Lenin, Stalin, Beria, you name him; she knew him. And she knew their spouses and their children. Thus her story of life in the exciting days of the revolution through the extraordinarily tragic days of Stalin's regime comes from a perspective like none other. And her portraits of all of these famous Russian politicians is unmatched.
Secondly, her husband was a remarkable man, breaking with Stalin on a number of things, but most significantly on whether there was a need to collectivize the peasantry with all of the horror and dislocation which went along with it. As Stalin grew more power hungry and paranoid, as allies became traitors, as friends became stool pigeons, you could see a world crumble, a world created by like minded people who grew more and more fearful and venal.
And, you see the gulag itself. Prisons and workcamps scattered across the vast Russian expanses, and the amount of work that went into keeping the system going. Work by dedicated (and terrified) Communists, who themselves would become victims the next month or the next year. Like the Nazi concentration camps, we have an extraordinary amount of organization and expense and activity---and for what?
The style of the book is also unique. It is not quite chronological. She is thinking back to her time in prison, and thinking back to her thoughts, while in prison, of her childhood and her adolescence. It is flashback upon flashback, without rhyme or reason as to sequence, it would seem, but bringing about a fascinating weave of reminiscences.
How accurate are her extraordinarily detailed memories of events and conversations and speeches and gossip of 60 years before? I obviously don't know. But they sound accurate. And she comes across as brilliant.
She says that there are two more books to be written. A book about her twenty years in the gulag, not concentrating on Bukharin, but on her contemporary experiences more and over a longer period of time. And a book about her life after she was freed, and after her late husband was brought back into repute by Gorbachev. But they never will be written it appears, as she died in her upper 80s about ten years ago without writing them.
Do you have to be a Russian devotee to read the book? Yes, to understand the cast of characters. But not at all to get a feel for the author, the times, and the people. This book is to be highly recommended.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
The St. Petersburg Trio is not the Nairobi Three (6 cents)
Do you remember Ernie Kovacs' Nairobi Three (speaking of politically correct!)?
Well, the St. Petersburg Trio is very different. It is composed of three members of the Washington Balalaika Society (maybe the only three?, who are each graduates of the Rimsky Korsakov Conservatory. They are all terrific musicians, and the best is probably Svetlana Nikonova, who plays the domra. The domra is a small mandolin, with only three strings, and she gets an extraordinary tone from it, both in quality and volume. Her two partners of Vladimar Zakharevitch, who plays the bayan, a Russian accordian like instruments, with buttons on both sides and no keyboard, and Andrey Saveliev, who plays the very large, and very bass balalaika k-bass. They played today at the Church of the Epiphany.
Their program had two parts: classical and folk. Every single song was familiar.
It must be said that it became apparent why Strauss, Mozart, Bach and Brahms did not write for a trio comprised of a domra, a bayan and a balalaika k-bass. But, considering what they were playing, they sure made the most of it. The folk songs (Russian and gypsy) were equally well performed.
The concert ran over its allotted 50 minutes, and nobody left.
Well, the St. Petersburg Trio is very different. It is composed of three members of the Washington Balalaika Society (maybe the only three?, who are each graduates of the Rimsky Korsakov Conservatory. They are all terrific musicians, and the best is probably Svetlana Nikonova, who plays the domra. The domra is a small mandolin, with only three strings, and she gets an extraordinary tone from it, both in quality and volume. Her two partners of Vladimar Zakharevitch, who plays the bayan, a Russian accordian like instruments, with buttons on both sides and no keyboard, and Andrey Saveliev, who plays the very large, and very bass balalaika k-bass. They played today at the Church of the Epiphany.
Their program had two parts: classical and folk. Every single song was familiar.
It must be said that it became apparent why Strauss, Mozart, Bach and Brahms did not write for a trio comprised of a domra, a bayan and a balalaika k-bass. But, considering what they were playing, they sure made the most of it. The folk songs (Russian and gypsy) were equally well performed.
The concert ran over its allotted 50 minutes, and nobody left.
A Quieter Time
This past weekend was quieter than the last. Here goes:
The Presentations.
First, Friday night, Professor Judith Hauptman of Jewish Theological Seminary speaking on the relationship between Mishnah and Tosefta. (If you want to know more, call me.) She was quite good. The only unnerving thing about the presentation is that she sounds (voice, accent, intonation) 100% like a client of mine whom I had been speaking to that very afternoon. Who probably knows little about this subject. But what do you think Judith Hauptman knows about lead based paint?
Second, Sunday afternoon, Hannah did a solo talk back at Theater J about the plays of Richard Greenberg. Good job, Hannah. I still think that the two characters (Russell and Trey) in the 3rd act of Bal Masque underwent a personality transformation from the first acts.
The Restaurants.
Saturday evening, a quick salad at Panera in Friendship Heights. Not bad. Very reasonably priced. Comfortable enough. Not crowded, but not empty - an international crowd, plus some 20-somethings having supper with their laptops (while talking on their camera phones).
Sunday (Mother's Day) evening at RIA15, or 15RIA (forget which one we went to) at (clever, clever) 15th and Rhode Island Avenue (or Rhode Island Avenue and 15th). The two best features: comfort and decor (that's one feature) and our young Romanian waitress, four months in the US of A after 5 years on a Carnival Line cruise ship. But then, they were out of everything: the Sunday meatloaf special (no tears, there), chicken, beet salad and cheese grits. Reason given: 70 reservations for 11 - 4 brunch; 250 customers. We had steak (apparently good), salmon (not bad), rockfish (not good). The salads were OK, the deserts festive enough, the price too high.
The books: None completed. Still plodding along.
The movies: Two, both at home.
First, the original Manchurian Candidate. Very stylistic, black and white. The blurb said that after Kennedy's assassination it was not shown for 25 years. Pretty incredible that. Lawrence Harvey as the killer, Frank Sinatra as the guy who figured it out, Angela Lansbury as the evil foreign agent (and as Harvey's mother, although she is just 3 years older than he). The stylism was a bit surprising to me, as the newer, Denzil Washington version is simply an action thriller. Same plot, very different movies. For 2006, the newer is the better. For 1962, ????
Second, the Bourne Conspiracy, a 3 year old espionage/spy/CIA movie that I wanted to see when it first came out to good reviews. A lot of action in far away places (here particularly India, Moscow, Berlin and Naples). But, like Syriana that we saw earlier, the plot was a bit too convoluted and complicated for me to (a) follow and (b) care about. Well acted.
The Book Sale.
In this case, we did not go to buy, but to run it at the Murch School Rummage Sale. We had to get there by 7 a.m. and stayed until noon or so. Problem was it was so early, that it tired us out the rest of the day.
I think that was it.
The Presentations.
First, Friday night, Professor Judith Hauptman of Jewish Theological Seminary speaking on the relationship between Mishnah and Tosefta. (If you want to know more, call me.) She was quite good. The only unnerving thing about the presentation is that she sounds (voice, accent, intonation) 100% like a client of mine whom I had been speaking to that very afternoon. Who probably knows little about this subject. But what do you think Judith Hauptman knows about lead based paint?
Second, Sunday afternoon, Hannah did a solo talk back at Theater J about the plays of Richard Greenberg. Good job, Hannah. I still think that the two characters (Russell and Trey) in the 3rd act of Bal Masque underwent a personality transformation from the first acts.
The Restaurants.
Saturday evening, a quick salad at Panera in Friendship Heights. Not bad. Very reasonably priced. Comfortable enough. Not crowded, but not empty - an international crowd, plus some 20-somethings having supper with their laptops (while talking on their camera phones).
Sunday (Mother's Day) evening at RIA15, or 15RIA (forget which one we went to) at (clever, clever) 15th and Rhode Island Avenue (or Rhode Island Avenue and 15th). The two best features: comfort and decor (that's one feature) and our young Romanian waitress, four months in the US of A after 5 years on a Carnival Line cruise ship. But then, they were out of everything: the Sunday meatloaf special (no tears, there), chicken, beet salad and cheese grits. Reason given: 70 reservations for 11 - 4 brunch; 250 customers. We had steak (apparently good), salmon (not bad), rockfish (not good). The salads were OK, the deserts festive enough, the price too high.
The books: None completed. Still plodding along.
The movies: Two, both at home.
First, the original Manchurian Candidate. Very stylistic, black and white. The blurb said that after Kennedy's assassination it was not shown for 25 years. Pretty incredible that. Lawrence Harvey as the killer, Frank Sinatra as the guy who figured it out, Angela Lansbury as the evil foreign agent (and as Harvey's mother, although she is just 3 years older than he). The stylism was a bit surprising to me, as the newer, Denzil Washington version is simply an action thriller. Same plot, very different movies. For 2006, the newer is the better. For 1962, ????
Second, the Bourne Conspiracy, a 3 year old espionage/spy/CIA movie that I wanted to see when it first came out to good reviews. A lot of action in far away places (here particularly India, Moscow, Berlin and Naples). But, like Syriana that we saw earlier, the plot was a bit too convoluted and complicated for me to (a) follow and (b) care about. Well acted.
The Book Sale.
In this case, we did not go to buy, but to run it at the Murch School Rummage Sale. We had to get there by 7 a.m. and stayed until noon or so. Problem was it was so early, that it tired us out the rest of the day.
I think that was it.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Alphonso Jackson (15 cents)
HUD Secretary Alphonso Jackson (who?) makes a speech in Texas where he tells about someone who had made a terrific proposal to the Department, and was about to get a lucrative contract, when Jackson found out that he was not a supporter of President Bush. So, Jackson says, the contract was not signed.
A mini-furor arises.
Jackson then says that he said it, yes, but he didn't mean it.
His office then says that he said it, yes, but it was only an anecdote (since when aren't anecdotes true?).
The HUD Inspector General is investigating.
Will Bush replace Jackson? Speculation runs both ways, but I think the answer is yes.
Of course, it is not because Jackson said something stupid, and then made stupid remarks about his stupid statement. Making stupid statements is not apparently anathema to the Bush administration.
And it is not going to be because of the substance of the remarks. The Bush administration gives contracts to its friends, and does not appear to have any qualms about that.
Jackson will be fired, because he was being honest. And, if there is one thing this administration cannot tolerate, it is honesty.
A mini-furor arises.
Jackson then says that he said it, yes, but he didn't mean it.
His office then says that he said it, yes, but it was only an anecdote (since when aren't anecdotes true?).
The HUD Inspector General is investigating.
Will Bush replace Jackson? Speculation runs both ways, but I think the answer is yes.
Of course, it is not because Jackson said something stupid, and then made stupid remarks about his stupid statement. Making stupid statements is not apparently anathema to the Bush administration.
And it is not going to be because of the substance of the remarks. The Bush administration gives contracts to its friends, and does not appear to have any qualms about that.
Jackson will be fired, because he was being honest. And, if there is one thing this administration cannot tolerate, it is honesty.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Quick Profit (15 cents)
So, I am roaming around this used book store and, for some reason, pick up a book about Georgian architecture in London, a book that I had no interest in although I am sure that it is a fine piece of scholarship, and I open it up and sense that there is something sort of thick between some pages towards the middle and look to see what it is and find 8 $20 bills. The book cost me $4. My profit was $156.00.
Hitler's Pawn (2 cents)
There was a one hour documentary this morning on HBO's second channel (in DC, channel 302) called Hitler's Pawn, which told the story of a German Jewish woman named Greta Bergmann, who was in the 1930's a world class athlete and the holder of Germany's women's high jump record. Beginning in 1933, when she was a young teenager with a growing reputation, her world collapsed with Hitler's arrival because she was Jewish, and she was dismissed from sports' clubs and shunned by friends.
When the 1936 Olympics were planned, the US threatened to boycott because of German's racial restrictions on its athletes, and (unbeknownst) to Bergmann, she became a pawn as one of the two Jewish athletes on Germany's team, sufficient to placate the easily convinced American Olympic Committee (thank you, Avery Brundage) and Amateur Athletic Union. The day after the American olympians set sail for Europe, Germany told Greta that she did not make the team, and she did not compete.
It was not until after she emigrated to the US in 1937 that she learned the full story and how she was used.
It is an excellent documentary, and would be very instructional for children and adolescents. If you get a chance to watch it, do.
When the 1936 Olympics were planned, the US threatened to boycott because of German's racial restrictions on its athletes, and (unbeknownst) to Bergmann, she became a pawn as one of the two Jewish athletes on Germany's team, sufficient to placate the easily convinced American Olympic Committee (thank you, Avery Brundage) and Amateur Athletic Union. The day after the American olympians set sail for Europe, Germany told Greta that she did not make the team, and she did not compete.
It was not until after she emigrated to the US in 1937 that she learned the full story and how she was used.
It is an excellent documentary, and would be very instructional for children and adolescents. If you get a chance to watch it, do.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
See how they run (7 cents)
I just went on a random blog that said that candidates are coming out of the woodwork to run for office in West Warwick, and asking the question: where are the candidates for Coventry?
Thought you ought to know.
Thought you ought to know.
Cynthia Ozick at Nextbooks (4 cents)
We went to see novelist/essayist Cynthia Ozick last night at Nextbooks at the DC Jewish Community Center. She spoke for almost an hour, talking of Philip Roth, Bernard Malamud, Isaac Babel, Gershon Sholem, Israel, the Disapora, Jewish-American writing, American-Jewish writing, A.B. Yehoshua, and even Ted Koppel. I listed very closely to what she said, and my reaction was: "Huh?"
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
National Anthems
Should the Star Spangled Banner be sung in any language other than English? Should it be sung in English? Or at all?
What an important debate!
Last week, when in the Embassy of Finland, I picked up a brochure that had the Finnish national anthem in Finnish and in English. It looked much funnier in Finnish.
And, as the Adas Israel presentation to the Dutch Holocaust rescuer, the program had the Dutch national anthem in Dutch and English. This was a bigger problem, because once you see the Dutch national them in English, you realize that the Dutch are pledging loyalty to the King of Spain. For the sake of the Hague, I hope that they don't translate that one into Spanish.
What an important debate!
Last week, when in the Embassy of Finland, I picked up a brochure that had the Finnish national anthem in Finnish and in English. It looked much funnier in Finnish.
And, as the Adas Israel presentation to the Dutch Holocaust rescuer, the program had the Dutch national anthem in Dutch and English. This was a bigger problem, because once you see the Dutch national them in English, you realize that the Dutch are pledging loyalty to the King of Spain. For the sake of the Hague, I hope that they don't translate that one into Spanish.
P.G. Wodehouse, P.G. County (1 cent)
Pelham Grenville Wodehouse did not mind being called P.G. So you can imagine my surprise when I read in the Washington Post Sunday that residents of P.G. County find "P.G." insulting (by Jeeves) and that they want to be known as residents of Prince George's (who is Prince George anyway?). I had no idea.
So, it got me thinking. Residents of Los Angeles say that they live in L.A., and we here in Washington don't mind living in D.C. Even in Kuala Lampur, they say that they live in K.L., as I understand it. But do they say K.C. in Kansas City? (I really don't know) And none of the "San" cities (Francisco, Antonio, Diego) go by S. Anything, do they? And no one in Walla Walla would ever think to say that they live in W.W.
Now people live in Philly and Indi and Cincy, but they don't live in St. Louie, but do in St Pete. And I think they used to live in Frisco, but no more. And they live in Vegas, but not Angeles.
I think P.G. should cool it.
So, it got me thinking. Residents of Los Angeles say that they live in L.A., and we here in Washington don't mind living in D.C. Even in Kuala Lampur, they say that they live in K.L., as I understand it. But do they say K.C. in Kansas City? (I really don't know) And none of the "San" cities (Francisco, Antonio, Diego) go by S. Anything, do they? And no one in Walla Walla would ever think to say that they live in W.W.
Now people live in Philly and Indi and Cincy, but they don't live in St. Louie, but do in St Pete. And I think they used to live in Frisco, but no more. And they live in Vegas, but not Angeles.
I think P.G. should cool it.
Monday, May 08, 2006
Bay Bridge Walk
The pattern repeats itself.
They schedule the 4 mile walk across the Bay Bridge and forget to tell us.
Then we read in the newspaper that it happened yesterday.
This is the annual pattern.
There must be some way to break the pattern, but it will require the full cooperation from the bridge authorities, and I just do not see this coming.
They schedule the 4 mile walk across the Bay Bridge and forget to tell us.
Then we read in the newspaper that it happened yesterday.
This is the annual pattern.
There must be some way to break the pattern, but it will require the full cooperation from the bridge authorities, and I just do not see this coming.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Busy, busy, busy (3 cents)
This was a busy weekend.
1. The restaurants. There were three. Lunch on Saturday was at a restaurant in Glover Park with the intoxicating name of "Bourbon". It looks to be primarily a bar, with only a few downstairs tables, a series of green naugahyde booths upstairs and a large sun-drenched patio. We went there for lunch because we were there, and it was there. We had never heard of it. We had a salad and scrambled eggs. Just so-so.
Saturday night, we ate at St-Ex., on 14th and S (or is it T?), named after St. Exupery, the French aviator lost in the war, and filled with air pioneer photos and memorabilia. Blackfish and halibut. This is a good restaurant, very popular now, and very informal.
Sunday night, with cousins, we went to Addie's on Rockville Pike, short of White Flint, one of the Black's restaurants (along with the Blacks in Bethesda, Garrett Park and Palisades). I was disappointed. We both had salmon. The fish was good, but the restaurant was an ordinary, good restaurant, nothing special.
2. The Conversation. On Friday night, we had supper with our study group, and a guest, Gesa Ederberg, Germany's only female rabbi (and perhaps the first woman to hold that title since Regina Jonas was ordained in 1935). She is the Masorti (Conservative) rabbi of Berlin, and runs many community programs and a pre-school program there, and serves a congregation in the Bavarian city of Weiden in Bavaria, composed of Jews from the Soviet Union.
All that would be impressive enough, but she turned out also to be a very bright, and extremely engaging young woman. Born in Tubingen to a Christian family, she developed an early interest in Judaism and the holocaust, and visited Israel when she was 13. She studied and was converted to Judaism at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, and studied and was ordained by the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem. Her husband is also a German convert to Judaism, but they met after their conversions.
We talked about Judaism in Europe, Germany and Berlin. She is clearly the most liberal of the Berlin rabbis (there are now 7 operating synagogues in the city). She spoke of the openness of the Jewish community in Berlin, which has admitted her and the Masorti congregation which she helped found, into the Jewish Community. In Berlin, a Jew does not define his or her own denomination, and does not join a particular synagogue. You join the community, and all synagogues and rabbis are governed by the community, and paid and supported by the community. There are 12,000 members of the Jewish community of Berlin, and 100,000 of the Jewish communities of Germany. There may be twice as many Jews in Germany, with the others not affiliated.
Her activities can be viewed at www.masorti.de.
3. The festival. The flower mart at the National Cathedral was a treat. We had not planned on attending, but drove by, saw there was a used book sale, and found a good parking space. The sale was not large, although I found Bill Clinton's book "Between Hope and History" signed by him to Smith Bagley (he is someone, isn't he?) for $2. But we spent an hour or so wandering the craft booths, looking at the plants, and walking by the food. We found a very nice booth run by a older couple who make jewelry from leaves and bugs, with some system where they are coated with copper. We bought a gift, and my wife bought earings and a brooch. We found other gifts for the upcoming Israel trip, saw some people we knew, and the weather was beautiful.
4. The other book sale. There was a sale at Janney Elementary School. I did not find anything I wanted, but my wife saw some friends and bought a couple of cook books.
5. The mini-museum. We went to see the wooden architecture exhibit at the Embassy of Finland, on Massachusetts Avenue, just southeast of Reno Road, and to see the embassy itself. There is a tradition of wooden architecture in Finland, but the use of wood went out of favor and other, longer lasting materials were being used for much of the 20th century. But with better treatment, there has been a rebirth of wood as an external building skin. The new Sibelius Concert Hall in Lahti (is that near Helsinki?), is similar in feel and design to the embassy building. but there are also university buildings, private homes, churches and schools. The exhibit itself was not large, and was strangely designed. For each of the 20 or so featured structures, there were poster-sized photos, three dimnesional models, and written explanations and a series of smaller photos. But they were in three different places, all the posters here, all the models there, etc.
6. The maxi-musuem. We then went to the Sackler Asian Art Museum, on the mall, to return to the Hokusai exhibit. We had seen half of the exhibit a month or so ago. This time we walked quickly through the section we had seen before, and went to the second floor of this very large exhibit, to see his paintings (as opposed to block prints and books). Portraits, religious and mythic figures, landscapes and animals. Some very impressive.
Hokusai lived to be 90, and worked for about 75 of them. What struck me this time, was his sense of color. He was just a very, very skilled artist.
We also went quickly through an exhibit called History of History, put together by photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto, whose photographs continue on exhibit at the Hirschhorn, and which impressed me so much when I saw them (actually I saw them twice). This exhibit will take another visit. There are fossils that are millions of years old, including some enormous ones from Morocco. There are clay figures that may be 8000 years old. And everything in between. Very impressive items; but I have not figured out yet exactly what the exhibit is trying to say.
7. The book talk. We went to Candida's, the travel book store on 14th street, to attend a book presentation by David Fairley and Jessie Sholl (never heard of them), who had edited an anthology called "Prague" as part of the "travelers' tales" series. Had not heard of the series, either, but basically, the book contains about 40 short first person memoirs of people who have traveled to Prague (generally for more than a two day stay) and give their impressions. Some of the authors are from Prague, some have lived there for long periods of time.
Two stories were read, which were quite nice. There are a number of well known authors. We bought the book.
8. Theater. After our dinner at St-Ex, we went next door to see "The Play's the Thing", by Ference Molnar, as adapted by P.G. Wodehouse. It was put on by the Washington Stage Guild, which has been around about 20 years, even though we did not know them. The actors, and the audience, were older than other theaters we have attended in town. The production was quite well done. The play, which was fairly long (two intermissions) had some dull, and some very enjoyable, parts.
Basically, a young composer is in love with and engaged to a prima donna, and when he and the playwrights with whom he is traveling, go to the Italian villa where she is staying, they take the room next door to her and hear through the walls her intimate conversation with an old boyfriend, an older married actor. The fiance is distraught, but the lead playwright has an idea, and convinces the old actor/boyfriend and the diva to pretend that they were rehearsing a play. Staying up all night to write the script, the play within the play is put on at the villa, and everyone winds up happy.
It is the play within the play that contains the best lines and leads to the loudest laughter. The first two acts are much slower. Except for Chris Davenport, who played the young composer and who was too silly and impossible to love, the cast was excellent. Particularly, Bill Largess as the playwright, Jeff Baker as the butler (Dwornitschek), and Michael Glenn as the secretary.
9. The Presentation. Today was the annual Guardian of the Righteous program at Adas Israel, honoring someone who helped save Jewish lives in Europe in World War II. This time, the honoree was Jaap Penraat, who was a young architect in Amsterdam. The story is extraordinary. He started by helping a Jewish friend hide on the farm of a gentile farmer. Then, he became a forger, forging papers for Jews to pass as gentiles. Then, he obtained stationary of a German corporation and set himself up as its representative in Holland to find workers for a factory in France. How he did this without being caught is hard to comprehend.
Penraat is quite frail. He must be close to 90. He spoke sitting down. And the speech, when he went through the history of how it happened, was riveting. Over 400 people were saved. Once they got to France, there was an underground network that got them to Spain and Portugal and beyond. All 400 were saved; none were lost.
In addition to Penraat's speech, representatives of the Dutch and Israeli embassies gave very nice presentations.
10. The book. I finished a short novel called Island of Saints by Andy Andrews. It was a bit too preachy, but the premise of the novel was interesting, and the prose not bad. Nazi U-boats off the Alabama coast during World War II, and their attacks on merchant ships, which were hushed up by the American press. But a German goes overboard, winds up on shore wounded, is nursed back to health by a young American war widow, winds up staying, marrying her, and becoming a real American (although an illegal alien). The format is unique, because the author writes in the first person, as if he is actually interviewing elderly residents of the area who help put the story together, finding out at the very end that this couple that he has known for years are in fact the central features in the story. He promises not to publish the story, unless he can convince his publisher to categorize it as fiction.
Would I recommend the book? I would not go out of your way for it, although the information about the Nazi infiltration of the Gulf is worth learning about.
On Amazon, this book got 5 stars from 9 commenters. How is this possible, since it is clearly not a 5 star book? My guess is that the reviewers were not strangers to Mr. Andrews.
1. The restaurants. There were three. Lunch on Saturday was at a restaurant in Glover Park with the intoxicating name of "Bourbon". It looks to be primarily a bar, with only a few downstairs tables, a series of green naugahyde booths upstairs and a large sun-drenched patio. We went there for lunch because we were there, and it was there. We had never heard of it. We had a salad and scrambled eggs. Just so-so.
Saturday night, we ate at St-Ex., on 14th and S (or is it T?), named after St. Exupery, the French aviator lost in the war, and filled with air pioneer photos and memorabilia. Blackfish and halibut. This is a good restaurant, very popular now, and very informal.
Sunday night, with cousins, we went to Addie's on Rockville Pike, short of White Flint, one of the Black's restaurants (along with the Blacks in Bethesda, Garrett Park and Palisades). I was disappointed. We both had salmon. The fish was good, but the restaurant was an ordinary, good restaurant, nothing special.
2. The Conversation. On Friday night, we had supper with our study group, and a guest, Gesa Ederberg, Germany's only female rabbi (and perhaps the first woman to hold that title since Regina Jonas was ordained in 1935). She is the Masorti (Conservative) rabbi of Berlin, and runs many community programs and a pre-school program there, and serves a congregation in the Bavarian city of Weiden in Bavaria, composed of Jews from the Soviet Union.
All that would be impressive enough, but she turned out also to be a very bright, and extremely engaging young woman. Born in Tubingen to a Christian family, she developed an early interest in Judaism and the holocaust, and visited Israel when she was 13. She studied and was converted to Judaism at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, and studied and was ordained by the Schechter Institute in Jerusalem. Her husband is also a German convert to Judaism, but they met after their conversions.
We talked about Judaism in Europe, Germany and Berlin. She is clearly the most liberal of the Berlin rabbis (there are now 7 operating synagogues in the city). She spoke of the openness of the Jewish community in Berlin, which has admitted her and the Masorti congregation which she helped found, into the Jewish Community. In Berlin, a Jew does not define his or her own denomination, and does not join a particular synagogue. You join the community, and all synagogues and rabbis are governed by the community, and paid and supported by the community. There are 12,000 members of the Jewish community of Berlin, and 100,000 of the Jewish communities of Germany. There may be twice as many Jews in Germany, with the others not affiliated.
Her activities can be viewed at www.masorti.de.
3. The festival. The flower mart at the National Cathedral was a treat. We had not planned on attending, but drove by, saw there was a used book sale, and found a good parking space. The sale was not large, although I found Bill Clinton's book "Between Hope and History" signed by him to Smith Bagley (he is someone, isn't he?) for $2. But we spent an hour or so wandering the craft booths, looking at the plants, and walking by the food. We found a very nice booth run by a older couple who make jewelry from leaves and bugs, with some system where they are coated with copper. We bought a gift, and my wife bought earings and a brooch. We found other gifts for the upcoming Israel trip, saw some people we knew, and the weather was beautiful.
4. The other book sale. There was a sale at Janney Elementary School. I did not find anything I wanted, but my wife saw some friends and bought a couple of cook books.
5. The mini-museum. We went to see the wooden architecture exhibit at the Embassy of Finland, on Massachusetts Avenue, just southeast of Reno Road, and to see the embassy itself. There is a tradition of wooden architecture in Finland, but the use of wood went out of favor and other, longer lasting materials were being used for much of the 20th century. But with better treatment, there has been a rebirth of wood as an external building skin. The new Sibelius Concert Hall in Lahti (is that near Helsinki?), is similar in feel and design to the embassy building. but there are also university buildings, private homes, churches and schools. The exhibit itself was not large, and was strangely designed. For each of the 20 or so featured structures, there were poster-sized photos, three dimnesional models, and written explanations and a series of smaller photos. But they were in three different places, all the posters here, all the models there, etc.
6. The maxi-musuem. We then went to the Sackler Asian Art Museum, on the mall, to return to the Hokusai exhibit. We had seen half of the exhibit a month or so ago. This time we walked quickly through the section we had seen before, and went to the second floor of this very large exhibit, to see his paintings (as opposed to block prints and books). Portraits, religious and mythic figures, landscapes and animals. Some very impressive.
Hokusai lived to be 90, and worked for about 75 of them. What struck me this time, was his sense of color. He was just a very, very skilled artist.
We also went quickly through an exhibit called History of History, put together by photographer Hiroshi Sugimoto, whose photographs continue on exhibit at the Hirschhorn, and which impressed me so much when I saw them (actually I saw them twice). This exhibit will take another visit. There are fossils that are millions of years old, including some enormous ones from Morocco. There are clay figures that may be 8000 years old. And everything in between. Very impressive items; but I have not figured out yet exactly what the exhibit is trying to say.
7. The book talk. We went to Candida's, the travel book store on 14th street, to attend a book presentation by David Fairley and Jessie Sholl (never heard of them), who had edited an anthology called "Prague" as part of the "travelers' tales" series. Had not heard of the series, either, but basically, the book contains about 40 short first person memoirs of people who have traveled to Prague (generally for more than a two day stay) and give their impressions. Some of the authors are from Prague, some have lived there for long periods of time.
Two stories were read, which were quite nice. There are a number of well known authors. We bought the book.
8. Theater. After our dinner at St-Ex, we went next door to see "The Play's the Thing", by Ference Molnar, as adapted by P.G. Wodehouse. It was put on by the Washington Stage Guild, which has been around about 20 years, even though we did not know them. The actors, and the audience, were older than other theaters we have attended in town. The production was quite well done. The play, which was fairly long (two intermissions) had some dull, and some very enjoyable, parts.
Basically, a young composer is in love with and engaged to a prima donna, and when he and the playwrights with whom he is traveling, go to the Italian villa where she is staying, they take the room next door to her and hear through the walls her intimate conversation with an old boyfriend, an older married actor. The fiance is distraught, but the lead playwright has an idea, and convinces the old actor/boyfriend and the diva to pretend that they were rehearsing a play. Staying up all night to write the script, the play within the play is put on at the villa, and everyone winds up happy.
It is the play within the play that contains the best lines and leads to the loudest laughter. The first two acts are much slower. Except for Chris Davenport, who played the young composer and who was too silly and impossible to love, the cast was excellent. Particularly, Bill Largess as the playwright, Jeff Baker as the butler (Dwornitschek), and Michael Glenn as the secretary.
9. The Presentation. Today was the annual Guardian of the Righteous program at Adas Israel, honoring someone who helped save Jewish lives in Europe in World War II. This time, the honoree was Jaap Penraat, who was a young architect in Amsterdam. The story is extraordinary. He started by helping a Jewish friend hide on the farm of a gentile farmer. Then, he became a forger, forging papers for Jews to pass as gentiles. Then, he obtained stationary of a German corporation and set himself up as its representative in Holland to find workers for a factory in France. How he did this without being caught is hard to comprehend.
Penraat is quite frail. He must be close to 90. He spoke sitting down. And the speech, when he went through the history of how it happened, was riveting. Over 400 people were saved. Once they got to France, there was an underground network that got them to Spain and Portugal and beyond. All 400 were saved; none were lost.
In addition to Penraat's speech, representatives of the Dutch and Israeli embassies gave very nice presentations.
10. The book. I finished a short novel called Island of Saints by Andy Andrews. It was a bit too preachy, but the premise of the novel was interesting, and the prose not bad. Nazi U-boats off the Alabama coast during World War II, and their attacks on merchant ships, which were hushed up by the American press. But a German goes overboard, winds up on shore wounded, is nursed back to health by a young American war widow, winds up staying, marrying her, and becoming a real American (although an illegal alien). The format is unique, because the author writes in the first person, as if he is actually interviewing elderly residents of the area who help put the story together, finding out at the very end that this couple that he has known for years are in fact the central features in the story. He promises not to publish the story, unless he can convince his publisher to categorize it as fiction.
Would I recommend the book? I would not go out of your way for it, although the information about the Nazi infiltration of the Gulf is worth learning about.
On Amazon, this book got 5 stars from 9 commenters. How is this possible, since it is clearly not a 5 star book? My guess is that the reviewers were not strangers to Mr. Andrews.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Bakunin and B. Akunin
Bakunin was a 19th century Russian revolutionary. B. Akunin is the pseudonym used by Russia's most popular mystery writer.
I just read the first of his Erast Fandonin mysteries, The Winter Queen, set in 19th century Moscow, St. Petersburg and London. I found it short, but tedious, and of little interest. It had a terrible ending, and the start and middle weren't so hot, either.
On Amazon, there are 60 reader reviews of this book. That is quite a large number. The majority of the reviewers loved the book; the minority absolutely hated it. No one was indifferent.
I just read the first of his Erast Fandonin mysteries, The Winter Queen, set in 19th century Moscow, St. Petersburg and London. I found it short, but tedious, and of little interest. It had a terrible ending, and the start and middle weren't so hot, either.
On Amazon, there are 60 reader reviews of this book. That is quite a large number. The majority of the reviewers loved the book; the minority absolutely hated it. No one was indifferent.
KIds, Kids, Kids
Kids seem to be the focus of the current exhibit at the Ripley Center, and the major current exhibit at the Museum of African Art. That is unusual and, what is more, when I went to see them today, there were no kids at either show. I don't know how they are being promoted.
The Ripley Center exhibit is called Amazon Voyage. It is not an art exhibit, but a natural science exhibit, with a very long participating sponsor and contributor list. The concentration is on nasty animals.
Do you know that there was a prehistoric piranha which looks just like today's but was much, much bigger? Do you know that there are a large number of catfish varieties, including some known as blood suckers, which feed on blood of animals (including people)? Do you know there are sting rays in the Amazon? And caymens in the jungle? And other dangerous creatures?
But, do you also know that the biggest problems in the Amazon are not the animals, but the non-indigeneous peoples?
A lot of pictures and bones and movies and music and boats and ship captains and whatever is the equivalent of karaoke for dancers.
At the African Art Museum, there is a fairly large exhibit called Big and Small, again which seems to be targeted to children, although some of the pieces are high enough that small children will have a problem. The pieces are all very, very nice. There are BIG masks, there are BIG sculptures, there are LITTLE figurines. Other than some items are big and some are little and that they are all African, I could not quite figure out the exhibit.
There is another exhibit at the museum (there are two exhibits in preparation), called Personal Items, which is also quite enjoyable. The stools seem all uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the wooden head/sleeping rests. The pipes are very well done. And there are combs and hairpieces, and dolls, and snuff boxes, and dishes and spoons.
But I would probably wait until the next exhibits open before taking a trip here.
The Ripley Center exhibit is called Amazon Voyage. It is not an art exhibit, but a natural science exhibit, with a very long participating sponsor and contributor list. The concentration is on nasty animals.
Do you know that there was a prehistoric piranha which looks just like today's but was much, much bigger? Do you know that there are a large number of catfish varieties, including some known as blood suckers, which feed on blood of animals (including people)? Do you know there are sting rays in the Amazon? And caymens in the jungle? And other dangerous creatures?
But, do you also know that the biggest problems in the Amazon are not the animals, but the non-indigeneous peoples?
A lot of pictures and bones and movies and music and boats and ship captains and whatever is the equivalent of karaoke for dancers.
At the African Art Museum, there is a fairly large exhibit called Big and Small, again which seems to be targeted to children, although some of the pieces are high enough that small children will have a problem. The pieces are all very, very nice. There are BIG masks, there are BIG sculptures, there are LITTLE figurines. Other than some items are big and some are little and that they are all African, I could not quite figure out the exhibit.
There is another exhibit at the museum (there are two exhibits in preparation), called Personal Items, which is also quite enjoyable. The stools seem all uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as the wooden head/sleeping rests. The pipes are very well done. And there are combs and hairpieces, and dolls, and snuff boxes, and dishes and spoons.
But I would probably wait until the next exhibits open before taking a trip here.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Congratulations (1 cent)
Congratulations to the Washington Bach Consort for finishing their cycle of Bach cantatas, with their extremely well done performance of Hochsterwunschtes Freudenfest, BWV 194, Tuesday at the Church of the Epiphany. A very large crowd came on a beautiful day.
Too bad my tuna wrap at Au Bon Pain was not as good as the cantata.
After lunch, I picked up a signed copy of Annie Proulx's The Shipping News, which won both the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award. It was a valuable find for $4. I also picked up a copy of Joe Alsop's memoirs (published posthumously) signed by journalist Adam Platt, who completed the task after Alsop's death. Not worth what The Shipping News is worth, but a find nevertheless. I do not think Platt signed many of the books.
I already wrote about our Korean dinner. It was followed by an hour at Ikea. I really like Ikea.
Too bad my tuna wrap at Au Bon Pain was not as good as the cantata.
After lunch, I picked up a signed copy of Annie Proulx's The Shipping News, which won both the Pulitzer Prize and National Book Award. It was a valuable find for $4. I also picked up a copy of Joe Alsop's memoirs (published posthumously) signed by journalist Adam Platt, who completed the task after Alsop's death. Not worth what The Shipping News is worth, but a find nevertheless. I do not think Platt signed many of the books.
I already wrote about our Korean dinner. It was followed by an hour at Ikea. I really like Ikea.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Seoul Food (1 cent)
It wasn't planned, but we had dinner at the Gah-Rham Korean/Japanese restaurant in Beltsville. Why? Two reasons. We were in Beltsville. And it was dinner time.
Actually, we were going to Ikea and kept on going north on Route 1 looking for some place to eat. (Our original thought was to eat at the restaurant at Ikea, but we changed our minds, for no apparent reason whatsoever).
Driving up Route 1 in that no-man's territory south of Laurel, we passed every possible fast food restaurant, a couple of restaurants that looked less than hospitable, and then a small shopping center, with a Korean restaurant with a very odd name. We went in.
Surprise! It is quite a place. Large, very attractive, with polished pine tables and fish tanks, light and cheery. And with a very friendly staff.
There were other customers. They were all Korean. While we were there, other customers arrived. They were all Korean.
We may have been the first Caucasians ever at Gah-Rham. Certainly, they never had Jewish customers before.
There were three of us. We ordered (1) salmon terriyaki, (2) a vegetable rice hot pot, and (3) a seafood hot pot.
While we were waiting they brought us small plates of kimchi, bean sprout salad, sesame greens, seaweed salad, potato salad, mushroom salad and more. We ate them all (thinking as we looked around that maybe these were condiments to eat with the meal, rather than appetizers).
Then the main courses. They were delicious, and were served with a dish of shirred eggs, and miso soup.
We obviously must not have known how to eat, because the staff was very attentive. They poured sauce on our food, they made sure we mixed it up (the two hot pots had sticky rice, and they wanted to make sure we didn't just eat the add-ons), they served us the eggs.
They looked like they were having a good time as did everyone there - all of whom were eating delicious looking meals.
The cost for 3? $39.
Can't beat it. 5027 Garrett Ave. Beltsville. 301 595 4122.
Actually, we were going to Ikea and kept on going north on Route 1 looking for some place to eat. (Our original thought was to eat at the restaurant at Ikea, but we changed our minds, for no apparent reason whatsoever).
Driving up Route 1 in that no-man's territory south of Laurel, we passed every possible fast food restaurant, a couple of restaurants that looked less than hospitable, and then a small shopping center, with a Korean restaurant with a very odd name. We went in.
Surprise! It is quite a place. Large, very attractive, with polished pine tables and fish tanks, light and cheery. And with a very friendly staff.
There were other customers. They were all Korean. While we were there, other customers arrived. They were all Korean.
We may have been the first Caucasians ever at Gah-Rham. Certainly, they never had Jewish customers before.
There were three of us. We ordered (1) salmon terriyaki, (2) a vegetable rice hot pot, and (3) a seafood hot pot.
While we were waiting they brought us small plates of kimchi, bean sprout salad, sesame greens, seaweed salad, potato salad, mushroom salad and more. We ate them all (thinking as we looked around that maybe these were condiments to eat with the meal, rather than appetizers).
Then the main courses. They were delicious, and were served with a dish of shirred eggs, and miso soup.
We obviously must not have known how to eat, because the staff was very attentive. They poured sauce on our food, they made sure we mixed it up (the two hot pots had sticky rice, and they wanted to make sure we didn't just eat the add-ons), they served us the eggs.
They looked like they were having a good time as did everyone there - all of whom were eating delicious looking meals.
The cost for 3? $39.
Can't beat it. 5027 Garrett Ave. Beltsville. 301 595 4122.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Da Da (3 cents)
The Da Da movement wast he direct result of the destruction of European society during World War I. Starting in about 1917 and lasting no more than 7 or 8 years, the Da Da artists went in entirely new directions. Even the name Da Da was a conscious creation, evoking a baby, a new start, the Russian word for yes, and so forth.
The exhibit at the National Gallery is interestingly organized by city: Zurich, Berlin, Hannover, Cologne, New York and Paris. Starting in neutral Switzerland with Hans Arp, Marcel Janco, Sophie Taeuber, Francis Picabia, Christian Schad and Otto van Rees, to moved to John Heartfield (Herzfeld), Otto Dix, Hannah Hoch, Raoul Hausmann and George Grosz in Berlin, Kurt Schwitters in Hannover, Max Ernst in Cologne, Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray in New York, and - after the war - many of these in Paris.
Nonrepresentational painting, sculpture, collage. And there is the more polished, somewhat cartoonish drawing of George Grosz, perhaps the most appealing of all these artists.
To what good was all of this? It may have shown disgust and estrangement from society, but it offered no solutions. As Grosz said with regard to his uncle: "Uncle August had these crazy ideas, and what became of them? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Instead of bringing something in, it only cost money and in the end he had to be admitted to a mental hospital."
So be it with Da Da?
The exhibit at the National Gallery is interestingly organized by city: Zurich, Berlin, Hannover, Cologne, New York and Paris. Starting in neutral Switzerland with Hans Arp, Marcel Janco, Sophie Taeuber, Francis Picabia, Christian Schad and Otto van Rees, to moved to John Heartfield (Herzfeld), Otto Dix, Hannah Hoch, Raoul Hausmann and George Grosz in Berlin, Kurt Schwitters in Hannover, Max Ernst in Cologne, Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray in New York, and - after the war - many of these in Paris.
Nonrepresentational painting, sculpture, collage. And there is the more polished, somewhat cartoonish drawing of George Grosz, perhaps the most appealing of all these artists.
To what good was all of this? It may have shown disgust and estrangement from society, but it offered no solutions. As Grosz said with regard to his uncle: "Uncle August had these crazy ideas, and what became of them? Nothing, absolutely nothing. Instead of bringing something in, it only cost money and in the end he had to be admitted to a mental hospital."
So be it with Da Da?
Sunday, April 30, 2006
The Weekend: a little of this/a little of that
1. The Book. "River Sutra" by Gita Mehta. I usually like novels set in India. The setting is normally just exotic enough, and the characters distinctive. But this novel is not really a novel. It is more like a series of short fables, told by pilgrims of all faiths wandering up and down the banks of the Narmada River. The central character is an Indian high level government bureaucrat who leaves his post and takes up a much easier one in the quiet Narmada country, where he runs a government inn for travelers and pilgrims. So, the book is like Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, with Moslem, Hindu and Jain travelers telling their fairy-tale like stories, all of which have a similar theme. I used to be very different from the way I am now, but the world was too much with me, so I decided to leave it all behind. Worth reading? Not really.
2. The Play. See yesterday's blog.
3. The Restaurants. Mixtec, a low-key Mexican restaurant in Adams Morgan (stick with the baked cheese appetizers) and Cafe Luna on 17th and P (soup and a salad; guess what? it was excellent).
4. The Book Sale. Arlington Library's spring sale, always a big one. Didn't get there until today at noon (it opened Friday), but the big book I found was "This I Cannot Forget" written by Anna Larina, Bolshevik Mikhail Bukharin's widow. After a life no one should have to lead, she wrote this book when in her late 70s (she was much younger than her husband). It was published in the 1980s. Larina signed the book (in Russian). there are no signed copies on ABEbooks.
5. The Rally. The Dafur rally on the mall this afternoon drew a large crowd (I would guess 30,000 to 40,000, but the estimates I have seen so far are not that high). Many speakers; most repetitive. But you have to admire those who are trying to do something. 200,000 people dead. 2,000,000 displaced. Unknown numbers attacked and raped. Still going on. Best speech that I heard: Al Sharpton. David Saperstein of the Religious Action Center spoke well. I would say 1/3 or so of the rally attendees were members of Jewish groups. This is probably OK--the motto is, after all, 'never again'.
2. The Play. See yesterday's blog.
3. The Restaurants. Mixtec, a low-key Mexican restaurant in Adams Morgan (stick with the baked cheese appetizers) and Cafe Luna on 17th and P (soup and a salad; guess what? it was excellent).
4. The Book Sale. Arlington Library's spring sale, always a big one. Didn't get there until today at noon (it opened Friday), but the big book I found was "This I Cannot Forget" written by Anna Larina, Bolshevik Mikhail Bukharin's widow. After a life no one should have to lead, she wrote this book when in her late 70s (she was much younger than her husband). It was published in the 1980s. Larina signed the book (in Russian). there are no signed copies on ABEbooks.
5. The Rally. The Dafur rally on the mall this afternoon drew a large crowd (I would guess 30,000 to 40,000, but the estimates I have seen so far are not that high). Many speakers; most repetitive. But you have to admire those who are trying to do something. 200,000 people dead. 2,000,000 displaced. Unknown numbers attacked and raped. Still going on. Best speech that I heard: Al Sharpton. David Saperstein of the Religious Action Center spoke well. I would say 1/3 or so of the rally attendees were members of Jewish groups. This is probably OK--the motto is, after all, 'never again'.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Angels in America/Devils in Germany (3 cents)
We just saw "A Bright Room Called Day" (an impossible to remember name), Tony Kushner's first play, performed by the Rorschach Theater Company. Hannah acted as dramaturg and assistant director.
It was a very ambitious project for this relatively small theater company, operating out of a church off 16th Street that itself seems quite impoverished. The play takes place on the stage in Germany, in 1932-1933, and on the screen in America in 1984-1985. The live action follows a group of leftist/Communist friends who see their dream of a Marxist uprising in Germany and a united front againt Fascism turned upside down as Hitler comes into, and consolidates power. The screenplay follows the ravings of Zillah Katz, who seems to fear the Ronald Reagan is almost as bad. (What would she think of George Bush II?)
I thought the play was well done, but it is a very wordy play, and takes almost three hours from curtain to curtain. It gives you a lot to think about both as to how difficult it is to determine which negative trends in governmental policy are truly worrisome, and which are likely to pass, and as to how differently different people react to them. It shows how much can depend on one individual (in this case Hitler), and provides interesting thoughts about why the Germans reacted to him as postively as they did.
Is it the most enjoyable play ever written? The cleverest? The fastest moving? No. But it does provide a worthwhile evening of theater.
It was a very ambitious project for this relatively small theater company, operating out of a church off 16th Street that itself seems quite impoverished. The play takes place on the stage in Germany, in 1932-1933, and on the screen in America in 1984-1985. The live action follows a group of leftist/Communist friends who see their dream of a Marxist uprising in Germany and a united front againt Fascism turned upside down as Hitler comes into, and consolidates power. The screenplay follows the ravings of Zillah Katz, who seems to fear the Ronald Reagan is almost as bad. (What would she think of George Bush II?)
I thought the play was well done, but it is a very wordy play, and takes almost three hours from curtain to curtain. It gives you a lot to think about both as to how difficult it is to determine which negative trends in governmental policy are truly worrisome, and which are likely to pass, and as to how differently different people react to them. It shows how much can depend on one individual (in this case Hitler), and provides interesting thoughts about why the Germans reacted to him as postively as they did.
Is it the most enjoyable play ever written? The cleverest? The fastest moving? No. But it does provide a worthwhile evening of theater.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Another Disappointment
I went to hear Sebastian Junger talk and read about his new book about the Boston Strangler tonight at Politics and Prose. It was quite disappointing, and I know that the review of his book have been mixed.
I do not know much about Junger. His bestseller was "The Perfect Storm", which I have not read.
The strangler, Albert di Salvo, worked at the Junger house in Belmont MA when Junger was a child and while the murders were taking place. This gave him a connection.
But, he says, the story is really about "reasonable doubt". What is it? How do you measure it? How do we know that we know what we think we know? Not only as a murder case juror, but throughout life?
He does not present particularly well, and he does not convince you that he has a lot to add on the subject of reasonable doubt.
All I could think of was O.J. Simpson. Why does everyone assume (know) he was guilty?
I do not know much about Junger. His bestseller was "The Perfect Storm", which I have not read.
The strangler, Albert di Salvo, worked at the Junger house in Belmont MA when Junger was a child and while the murders were taking place. This gave him a connection.
But, he says, the story is really about "reasonable doubt". What is it? How do you measure it? How do we know that we know what we think we know? Not only as a murder case juror, but throughout life?
He does not present particularly well, and he does not convince you that he has a lot to add on the subject of reasonable doubt.
All I could think of was O.J. Simpson. Why does everyone assume (know) he was guilty?
Another Extraordinary Young Woman Leads an Extraordinary Life (1 cent)
Having read about Roya Hakakian in Iran and Zainab Salbi in Iraq, I have now come across Yelena Khanga in Russia, and her 1994 memoir, Soul to Soul (or dusha k dushu).
Listen to this: Her maternal grandmother was Jewish, born in Warsaw, emigrating to the U.S. with her family as a young girl. Her maternal grandfather was African American, originally from Yazoo City, MS. Both interested in leftist politics and Communism, they decided to put their money where their mouth was, and moved to the USSR in 1931. It was there, in 1934, that her mother was born, an African American in the USSR, who became the Russian authority on historic African music. And she met a Muslim from Zanzibar, who left her shortly after their child was born to move back and become independent Zanzibar's first vice president. Shortly thereafter, he was murdered.
Yelena grew up with her mother and grandmother. She was one of the few native blacks in a white society. She was very bright, had perfect pitch, became Moscow doubles tennis champion, and went to Journalism school at Moscow State University.
She knew little about her grandparents. Her grandmother, who was ostracized by her family when she married a black man, did not talk about her Judaism. Her grandfather died at 53; Yelena never knew him. She knew nothing about Zanzibar.
She knew a lot about the USSR. And because her mother was an important figure in Moscow intellectual society, she knew many of the important Russian literati. Her mother had remarried Yegor Yakelev, editor of the Moscow News. And, because she was black, her mother knew the leftist blacks of the world, including Paul Robeson and W.E. Dubois.
In 1985, during the Yeltsin years, the first exchange of journalists between the USSR and the USA was arranged, and Yelena flew to Boston. She was, of course, fluent in English. As a result of this trip, she began to explore both sides of her American family, and eventually met her 92 year old grandmother in Zanzibar.
What a fascinating story.
And the story is only part of the fascination of this book. Yelena Khanga has a totally new and fresh perspective on race relations, and racially based assumptions, that will add much to your understanding of this important topic, and help you (I think) work through issues today.
Listen to this: Her maternal grandmother was Jewish, born in Warsaw, emigrating to the U.S. with her family as a young girl. Her maternal grandfather was African American, originally from Yazoo City, MS. Both interested in leftist politics and Communism, they decided to put their money where their mouth was, and moved to the USSR in 1931. It was there, in 1934, that her mother was born, an African American in the USSR, who became the Russian authority on historic African music. And she met a Muslim from Zanzibar, who left her shortly after their child was born to move back and become independent Zanzibar's first vice president. Shortly thereafter, he was murdered.
Yelena grew up with her mother and grandmother. She was one of the few native blacks in a white society. She was very bright, had perfect pitch, became Moscow doubles tennis champion, and went to Journalism school at Moscow State University.
She knew little about her grandparents. Her grandmother, who was ostracized by her family when she married a black man, did not talk about her Judaism. Her grandfather died at 53; Yelena never knew him. She knew nothing about Zanzibar.
She knew a lot about the USSR. And because her mother was an important figure in Moscow intellectual society, she knew many of the important Russian literati. Her mother had remarried Yegor Yakelev, editor of the Moscow News. And, because she was black, her mother knew the leftist blacks of the world, including Paul Robeson and W.E. Dubois.
In 1985, during the Yeltsin years, the first exchange of journalists between the USSR and the USA was arranged, and Yelena flew to Boston. She was, of course, fluent in English. As a result of this trip, she began to explore both sides of her American family, and eventually met her 92 year old grandmother in Zanzibar.
What a fascinating story.
And the story is only part of the fascination of this book. Yelena Khanga has a totally new and fresh perspective on race relations, and racially based assumptions, that will add much to your understanding of this important topic, and help you (I think) work through issues today.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Front Page WSJ (1 cent)
Yesterday.
1.
"When he was 22 years old, Loren Davis bought 75 chairs from a funeral home and opened his own fundamentalist church next to a Hells Angels bar on the Houston docks. Someone shot out a window once, he says, but nobody ever came in to hear him preach.
"Every Sunday for three months, Mr. Davis stood before the empty seats and preached the Gospel as if he were Billy Graham in a packed stadium. Finally, he recalls, his mother showed up and, after listening to her son's solo sermon, suggested he find another career."
It turns out that Davis is now an evangelizing success in Africa, where there are currently 95,800 "long-term" missionaries preaching.
With 95,800 Christians with Bibles, and even more Moslems with scimitars, what's a poor African to do?
2.
Italy (surprisingly) might be the cleanest country, and household product advertisements fail there is they promise time-saving efficiency or ease of use. 80% of Italians iron all of their laundry and only 2% use cleaning wipes.
3.
Air Canada has realized that you can't make money off flying airplanes, so they are turning their main task into a loss leader and concentrating on all the side tasks that most airlines fan out.
Having flown Air Canada.........
4.
Ken Lay says that it was the media and underlings who brought down Enron.
Sort of like saying, "yes, I helped push him off the cliff, but it was the gravity that caused him to fall."
1.
"When he was 22 years old, Loren Davis bought 75 chairs from a funeral home and opened his own fundamentalist church next to a Hells Angels bar on the Houston docks. Someone shot out a window once, he says, but nobody ever came in to hear him preach.
"Every Sunday for three months, Mr. Davis stood before the empty seats and preached the Gospel as if he were Billy Graham in a packed stadium. Finally, he recalls, his mother showed up and, after listening to her son's solo sermon, suggested he find another career."
It turns out that Davis is now an evangelizing success in Africa, where there are currently 95,800 "long-term" missionaries preaching.
With 95,800 Christians with Bibles, and even more Moslems with scimitars, what's a poor African to do?
2.
Italy (surprisingly) might be the cleanest country, and household product advertisements fail there is they promise time-saving efficiency or ease of use. 80% of Italians iron all of their laundry and only 2% use cleaning wipes.
3.
Air Canada has realized that you can't make money off flying airplanes, so they are turning their main task into a loss leader and concentrating on all the side tasks that most airlines fan out.
Having flown Air Canada.........
4.
Ken Lay says that it was the media and underlings who brought down Enron.
Sort of like saying, "yes, I helped push him off the cliff, but it was the gravity that caused him to fall."
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
I Just Must Be Dumb (1 cent)
From today's New York Times (with my annotation):
For thee billtion years, life on earth consisted of singled-celled organisms like bacteria or algae. Only 600 million years ago did evolution hit on a system for making multicellular organisms like animals and plants. (so far, so good)
the key to the system is to give the cells (whatever that is) that make up an organism a variety fo different identities so that they can perform many different roles.
So even though all the cells (whatever they are) carry the same genome (whatever that is), each type of cell must be granted access to only a few of the genes (whatever they are) in the genome (whatever that is), with all the others permanently denied to it.
People for instanc,e have at least 260 differnet types of cells, each specialized for a different tissue or organ, but presumably each type of can activate only some of the 22,500 genes in the human genome.
the nature of the system that assigns the cells their various identities is a central mystery..........
They have discovered a striking new feature of the chromatin (huh?), the specialized protein (what is that?) molecule (huh?) that protect and control the giant molecules (who are they?) of DNA (what is that?) that lie at the center of every chromosome (whatever they are).
I am just dumb. But, for years, I have failed to understand any of this.
For thee billtion years, life on earth consisted of singled-celled organisms like bacteria or algae. Only 600 million years ago did evolution hit on a system for making multicellular organisms like animals and plants. (so far, so good)
the key to the system is to give the cells (whatever that is) that make up an organism a variety fo different identities so that they can perform many different roles.
So even though all the cells (whatever they are) carry the same genome (whatever that is), each type of cell must be granted access to only a few of the genes (whatever they are) in the genome (whatever that is), with all the others permanently denied to it.
People for instanc,e have at least 260 differnet types of cells, each specialized for a different tissue or organ, but presumably each type of can activate only some of the 22,500 genes in the human genome.
the nature of the system that assigns the cells their various identities is a central mystery..........
They have discovered a striking new feature of the chromatin (huh?), the specialized protein (what is that?) molecule (huh?) that protect and control the giant molecules (who are they?) of DNA (what is that?) that lie at the center of every chromosome (whatever they are).
I am just dumb. But, for years, I have failed to understand any of this.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
And It's a Good Thing that I Read it All (21 cents)
Not "The Emperor of Ocean Park", but David Grossman's "The Zig Zag Kid".
Grossman is an Israeli journalist/novelist who, despite his American sounding name, writes in Hebrew and is published here in translation. I had never read anything by him, and found a signed copy of this book at a used book store last week.
It is a novel, and a very unusual one. I am not sure if it was meant for an adult audience, or a younger audience. It is a coming of age fable, the story of young Nonny Feuerberg as he approaches his Bar Mitvah in the 1970s. (The book was written in the 1990s).
Nonny is sent out on an "adventure" by his father and his not-quite-step mother, a sort of scavenger hunt which starts on the Jerusalem-Haifa train, where one thing is supposed to lead to another. But it gets off-track, so to speak, very early, as Nonny is befriended by an older man acting as his guide, telling him that they are going to do woundrous things, and that he will be back home by Bar Mitzvah time. And, if he wants, he can go home any time he wants.
Problem is: this man is not part if the father's plan for his son, and the father (an Israeli policeman)puts out an APB, saying that his son has been kidnapped.
I don't want to give it away, but the adventures are exciting and not quite legal, and takes Nonny where he never imagined he could go.
For most of the book, I wondered why I was reading it at all. I thought it silly, but again I stuck with it (only half the size as the Carter book), and -- as coming of age fables tend to do -- everything turned out not only well, but exceedingly well. (Wish I could tell you more but, who knows, you just might read it.)
So, I think this is a wonderful book. What did it remind me of? Maybe Herman Hesse's Siddhartha. Maybe Coehlo's "The Alchemist". Maybe Yann Martel's "Life of Pi" (which I have not even read).
Grossman is an Israeli journalist/novelist who, despite his American sounding name, writes in Hebrew and is published here in translation. I had never read anything by him, and found a signed copy of this book at a used book store last week.
It is a novel, and a very unusual one. I am not sure if it was meant for an adult audience, or a younger audience. It is a coming of age fable, the story of young Nonny Feuerberg as he approaches his Bar Mitvah in the 1970s. (The book was written in the 1990s).
Nonny is sent out on an "adventure" by his father and his not-quite-step mother, a sort of scavenger hunt which starts on the Jerusalem-Haifa train, where one thing is supposed to lead to another. But it gets off-track, so to speak, very early, as Nonny is befriended by an older man acting as his guide, telling him that they are going to do woundrous things, and that he will be back home by Bar Mitzvah time. And, if he wants, he can go home any time he wants.
Problem is: this man is not part if the father's plan for his son, and the father (an Israeli policeman)puts out an APB, saying that his son has been kidnapped.
I don't want to give it away, but the adventures are exciting and not quite legal, and takes Nonny where he never imagined he could go.
For most of the book, I wondered why I was reading it at all. I thought it silly, but again I stuck with it (only half the size as the Carter book), and -- as coming of age fables tend to do -- everything turned out not only well, but exceedingly well. (Wish I could tell you more but, who knows, you just might read it.)
So, I think this is a wonderful book. What did it remind me of? Maybe Herman Hesse's Siddhartha. Maybe Coehlo's "The Alchemist". Maybe Yann Martel's "Life of Pi" (which I have not even read).
Saturday, April 22, 2006
I Can't Believe I Read the Whole Thing
All 657 pages of Yale Law School professor Stephen L. Carter's novel, "The Emperor of Ocean Park". But, I did.
The book is not totally uninteresting, but could have been edited down to half its size, and could have lost a third of its characters. The protagonist, Talcott (or Misha, called after Russian chess player, Mikhail Tal) is a law professor, whose father is a bitter, archconservative, African American ex-judge, who dies at the start of the book. The next 600+ pages show how Misha finds out just how bad his father really was, engaging in a conspiracy with a former colleague and present U.S. Supreme Court judge to fix cases for the benefit of large corporations controlled by one, single underworld character.
I can't believe I spent most of my evenings this week with this book.
The book is not totally uninteresting, but could have been edited down to half its size, and could have lost a third of its characters. The protagonist, Talcott (or Misha, called after Russian chess player, Mikhail Tal) is a law professor, whose father is a bitter, archconservative, African American ex-judge, who dies at the start of the book. The next 600+ pages show how Misha finds out just how bad his father really was, engaging in a conspiracy with a former colleague and present U.S. Supreme Court judge to fix cases for the benefit of large corporations controlled by one, single underworld character.
I can't believe I spent most of my evenings this week with this book.
I Can't Believe I Read the Whole Thing
All 657 pages of Yale Law School professor Stephen L. Carter's novel, "The Emperor of Ocean Park". But, I did.
The book is not totally uninteresting, but could have been edited down to half its size, and could have lost a third of its characters. The protagonist, Talcott (or Misha, called after Russian chess player, Mikhail Tal) is a law professor, whose father is a bitter, archconservative, African American ex-judge, who dies at the start of the book. The next 600+ pages show how Misha finds out just how bad his father really was, engaging in a conspiracy with a former colleague and present U.S. Supreme Court judge to fix cases for the benefit of large corporations controlled by one, single underworld character.
I can't believe I spent most of my evenings this week with this book.
The book is not totally uninteresting, but could have been edited down to half its size, and could have lost a third of its characters. The protagonist, Talcott (or Misha, called after Russian chess player, Mikhail Tal) is a law professor, whose father is a bitter, archconservative, African American ex-judge, who dies at the start of the book. The next 600+ pages show how Misha finds out just how bad his father really was, engaging in a conspiracy with a former colleague and present U.S. Supreme Court judge to fix cases for the benefit of large corporations controlled by one, single underworld character.
I can't believe I spent most of my evenings this week with this book.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Do I Have This Straight? (14 cents)
On the White House lawn today, as I understand it, President Bush had just told President Hu (President Who?) that he should allow dissenters to speak. At that very instant, a spectator yells out unpleasant things about Huum (about Whom?)and his treatment of the Falun Gong members (a/k/a the "good guys"). The heckler, in a showing of how well we brook dissent, is carted off and arrested.
Hu's on first?
Hu's on first?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Lunch Time (3 cents)
Something about Passover makes you want to eat lunch early.
But I was on the phone, so in order to make the Tuesday concert at Epiphany Episcopalian I would have had to walk faster than usual, and even then I would be late. And, besides, did I really want to sit through a concert of Native American flute music, when the weather was so nice? (Not that I have any idea of what this music would sound like) With a pang of guilt, I decided not to go.
So, what to do? Remember, I was very hungry. I decided to get a salad at Cosi, and began walking up Connecticut Avenue, to turn onto M Street and go to 20th. Well, I guess I missed my turn, because before I knew it, I was all the way to the circle.
Then, I remembered that the books at Second Story's table were marked at $2 yesterday, so I thought there was a good chance that a new $4 shipment would be in today. No, the books were still $2, so I spent no time there. Besides, you recall, I was hungry.
So, I walked down 20th Street, past Eli's Kosher Restaurant (closed for the holiday without so much of a sign explaining why the door was locked and the lights off) to the 20th and M Cosi, where I dutifully ate my salad (reading sections 2 and 4 of the Wall Street Journal: how to get a job when you are over 50, what happens when your friend becomes your boss, Museum of Modern Art exhibit on contemporary Spanish architecture, and a few health related articles), having rejected the Cosi bread.
I left the restaurant feeling not quite fulfilled, so I decided to go to the Mud Hut at 17th and M, and get a cup of coffee. Probably the best and most consistently good coffee in the neighborhood (but as a lunch place, the restaurant's unusual menu has not changed in a decade, and many more tables are empty than filled), which I did.
It was too pretty to go back to the office, so I decided to cross 17th Street and walk east on M, past the National Geographic, and the Wilderness Society, and the NEA, and the American Chemical Society, and the Jefferson Hotel, and the American Chess Center and the Madison Hotel, and the Homebuilders, and the Wyndam Hotel, and Thomas Circle, where I had to detour to L Street because of construction.
I walked L Street to, I think it is 10th, where construction intervenes one more time (condominiums galore), and I went down to I and continued, with no destination east on H, where, opposite the Grand Hyatt as I walked along the site of the former D C Convention Center, I came upon a parade in support of Fulan Gong, and a very impressive one it was. Large two and three person banners in Chinese and English, claiming that the Chinese government was persecuting practitioners, putting them in concentration camps, and taking their organs and selling them (sometimes even before the prisoners have died). They tell a horrific, if true, story in a very respectful way. There were, I would guess, 30 or 40 banners. (As to whether the story is true, I had been reading about all of this in the weekly Epoch Times, but that paper has some connection with Fulan Gong, I think.)
There was also a large movie crew on the old convention center site. Trailers and trailers. Including a catering trailer and, by my count, a line up of 80 large bottles of water.
At any rate, after the parade ended, I turned south again and walked down to the DC library (what a depressing, and embarrassing place that is) and went in to see if there were any books for sale that interested me. (There rarely are here). And, the first book I picked up was Bill Gates' book on business practices in the 21st century, signed by Gates with a letter to a Congressman Johnson (not sure who that is, but will find out). Not a book that I will ever read, but for $2...........
Because time was growing short, I was going to take the subway back, but the weather was just too good, so I walked.
I had left my office about 12:15, and returned about 2:10. Not too bad. No concert, no museum. but not too bad.
But I was on the phone, so in order to make the Tuesday concert at Epiphany Episcopalian I would have had to walk faster than usual, and even then I would be late. And, besides, did I really want to sit through a concert of Native American flute music, when the weather was so nice? (Not that I have any idea of what this music would sound like) With a pang of guilt, I decided not to go.
So, what to do? Remember, I was very hungry. I decided to get a salad at Cosi, and began walking up Connecticut Avenue, to turn onto M Street and go to 20th. Well, I guess I missed my turn, because before I knew it, I was all the way to the circle.
Then, I remembered that the books at Second Story's table were marked at $2 yesterday, so I thought there was a good chance that a new $4 shipment would be in today. No, the books were still $2, so I spent no time there. Besides, you recall, I was hungry.
So, I walked down 20th Street, past Eli's Kosher Restaurant (closed for the holiday without so much of a sign explaining why the door was locked and the lights off) to the 20th and M Cosi, where I dutifully ate my salad (reading sections 2 and 4 of the Wall Street Journal: how to get a job when you are over 50, what happens when your friend becomes your boss, Museum of Modern Art exhibit on contemporary Spanish architecture, and a few health related articles), having rejected the Cosi bread.
I left the restaurant feeling not quite fulfilled, so I decided to go to the Mud Hut at 17th and M, and get a cup of coffee. Probably the best and most consistently good coffee in the neighborhood (but as a lunch place, the restaurant's unusual menu has not changed in a decade, and many more tables are empty than filled), which I did.
It was too pretty to go back to the office, so I decided to cross 17th Street and walk east on M, past the National Geographic, and the Wilderness Society, and the NEA, and the American Chemical Society, and the Jefferson Hotel, and the American Chess Center and the Madison Hotel, and the Homebuilders, and the Wyndam Hotel, and Thomas Circle, where I had to detour to L Street because of construction.
I walked L Street to, I think it is 10th, where construction intervenes one more time (condominiums galore), and I went down to I and continued, with no destination east on H, where, opposite the Grand Hyatt as I walked along the site of the former D C Convention Center, I came upon a parade in support of Fulan Gong, and a very impressive one it was. Large two and three person banners in Chinese and English, claiming that the Chinese government was persecuting practitioners, putting them in concentration camps, and taking their organs and selling them (sometimes even before the prisoners have died). They tell a horrific, if true, story in a very respectful way. There were, I would guess, 30 or 40 banners. (As to whether the story is true, I had been reading about all of this in the weekly Epoch Times, but that paper has some connection with Fulan Gong, I think.)
There was also a large movie crew on the old convention center site. Trailers and trailers. Including a catering trailer and, by my count, a line up of 80 large bottles of water.
At any rate, after the parade ended, I turned south again and walked down to the DC library (what a depressing, and embarrassing place that is) and went in to see if there were any books for sale that interested me. (There rarely are here). And, the first book I picked up was Bill Gates' book on business practices in the 21st century, signed by Gates with a letter to a Congressman Johnson (not sure who that is, but will find out). Not a book that I will ever read, but for $2...........
Because time was growing short, I was going to take the subway back, but the weather was just too good, so I walked.
I had left my office about 12:15, and returned about 2:10. Not too bad. No concert, no museum. but not too bad.
Monday, April 17, 2006
A Movie, a Garden, a Play and a Game
Other than work, that is pretty much it for the last few days.
The movie: Crash, the academy award winner. It is very hard to watch because everything that happens is so awful, but it is very tightly directed and very strongly acted. And very much worth it. The story of race relations? Reallly the story of paranoia, with everyone afraid of everyone else: the Mexicans, the Blacks, the Persians (whom everyone thinks are Arab), the Asians. Everyone is there but the Jews. And out of their fear (sometime the result of past experience; sometimes the result of who knows what?), they do awful things to each other. And, everything they do affects everyone else, but they are all connected. A difficult movie. Definitely hyperbolic. But with more than enough truth to make it worthwhile.
The Garden: The Washington Arboretum, where the azaleas as all beginning to come out. Give it one more week, and go.
The Play: Bal Masque, the story of three couples who attended Truman Capote's 1966 Black and White Ball to celebrate the success of In Cold Blood. It takes place the night of the ball, after the party breaks up. And no one comes out of the experience whole.
Capote is never on stage, but he is the lead character, because he is like a puppeteer, selecting his friends, and manipulating them even when he is not physicaly present. Marriages will break up, self esteem will vanish, nothing will be the same.
The actors are to a person excellent; and Richard Greenberg, the playwright gives them his usual extraordinarily clever dialogue. He is a master.
Any shortcomings? Yes, the play ends with a short third act that seems not well thought out. Two of the husbands wind up on a park bench in the pre-dawn hours and discover that they are better off in a physical relationship with each other than they are with their wives.
The other Greenberg play that I saw, Take Me Out, was about a gay baseball player. So, I guess this is Greenberg's thing. Not quite forgiveable, but he is so talented that it can at least be overlooked.
And the game: Tonight's final Washington Capitals game, where they beat Atlanta 6-4, and ended a season with a very poor record, but which gave everyone much hope for the future.
The movie: Crash, the academy award winner. It is very hard to watch because everything that happens is so awful, but it is very tightly directed and very strongly acted. And very much worth it. The story of race relations? Reallly the story of paranoia, with everyone afraid of everyone else: the Mexicans, the Blacks, the Persians (whom everyone thinks are Arab), the Asians. Everyone is there but the Jews. And out of their fear (sometime the result of past experience; sometimes the result of who knows what?), they do awful things to each other. And, everything they do affects everyone else, but they are all connected. A difficult movie. Definitely hyperbolic. But with more than enough truth to make it worthwhile.
The Garden: The Washington Arboretum, where the azaleas as all beginning to come out. Give it one more week, and go.
The Play: Bal Masque, the story of three couples who attended Truman Capote's 1966 Black and White Ball to celebrate the success of In Cold Blood. It takes place the night of the ball, after the party breaks up. And no one comes out of the experience whole.
Capote is never on stage, but he is the lead character, because he is like a puppeteer, selecting his friends, and manipulating them even when he is not physicaly present. Marriages will break up, self esteem will vanish, nothing will be the same.
The actors are to a person excellent; and Richard Greenberg, the playwright gives them his usual extraordinarily clever dialogue. He is a master.
Any shortcomings? Yes, the play ends with a short third act that seems not well thought out. Two of the husbands wind up on a park bench in the pre-dawn hours and discover that they are better off in a physical relationship with each other than they are with their wives.
The other Greenberg play that I saw, Take Me Out, was about a gay baseball player. So, I guess this is Greenberg's thing. Not quite forgiveable, but he is so talented that it can at least be overlooked.
And the game: Tonight's final Washington Capitals game, where they beat Atlanta 6-4, and ended a season with a very poor record, but which gave everyone much hope for the future.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
A Frenchman visits the U.S. (4 cents)
Alexis de Tocqueville traveled through the United States in 1831. He came ostensibly to examine American prisons, but it was really just an excuse to examine America and American democracy. After all, the American revolution seemed to be a political success; the French revolution was not.
In 2004, the Atlantic Magazine paid French philosophe Bernard Henri Levy to travel the United States. Sort of (but not exactly) a twenty first century de Tocqueville. Levy spent about a year roaming the U.S. He is no de Tocqueville, and his impressions are catch as catch can; they are not profound.
Levy is not a stranger to America. He had been here many times. He speaks English. And he travels in style, with a driver, in first class accommodations, with introductions to well known Americans (actually American men) in most of the places he visited. There are a few interesting pastiches - I especially enjoyed his treatment of his visit to the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore. But generally, he stayed above the surface, and moved on too quickly (interrupting his trip for flights to political rallies across the country during the 2004 campaign, and once to take a quick trip back to France to see a new grandchild) from place to place. Yes, he spoke with Norman Mailer, and George Soros, and Morris Dees, and he visited prisons from Rikers Island to (would you believe it?) Guantanamo, but so what?
His conclusions are prosaic: The U.S. has people of various political beliefs. America was not as imperialistic as Britain or France. No position is all right, or all wrong. All Americans are not religious crazies. And so forth.
If you have not read this book, there is no reason to read it now.
In 2004, the Atlantic Magazine paid French philosophe Bernard Henri Levy to travel the United States. Sort of (but not exactly) a twenty first century de Tocqueville. Levy spent about a year roaming the U.S. He is no de Tocqueville, and his impressions are catch as catch can; they are not profound.
Levy is not a stranger to America. He had been here many times. He speaks English. And he travels in style, with a driver, in first class accommodations, with introductions to well known Americans (actually American men) in most of the places he visited. There are a few interesting pastiches - I especially enjoyed his treatment of his visit to the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore. But generally, he stayed above the surface, and moved on too quickly (interrupting his trip for flights to political rallies across the country during the 2004 campaign, and once to take a quick trip back to France to see a new grandchild) from place to place. Yes, he spoke with Norman Mailer, and George Soros, and Morris Dees, and he visited prisons from Rikers Island to (would you believe it?) Guantanamo, but so what?
His conclusions are prosaic: The U.S. has people of various political beliefs. America was not as imperialistic as Britain or France. No position is all right, or all wrong. All Americans are not religious crazies. And so forth.
If you have not read this book, there is no reason to read it now.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Passover Thoughts
Each year, reading the Haggadah raises new questions. Is this good, because it demonstrates the depth of the text and the tradition? Or is it bad, because it shows how silly so much of it is? The answer to that one is beyond me.
This year (having tired of thinking about how the glorification of the plagues is outmoded in this day and age of instant communication, when one can fly from Cairo to Tel Aviv in thirty minutes, and how the entire story of the escape from Egypt cannot help but hurt Jewish-Arab relations), I thought about other things.
For one thing, I was thinking about the "fleshpots of Egypt" that some people wanted to return to. I had always assumed that a fleshpot was like a nightclub, with girls and hashish (sort of like Studio 54), but an article I read said, 'no', the concentration should be on the 'pot', not the 'flesh', and that the fleshpots were the pots in which meat was cooked, which is just what the Israelites, who were stuck eating manna, would have wanted.
A new way of looking at this!! I had always been mistaken as to what a fleshpot was!!
So, I went to dictinary.com, and merriam-webster.com, etc. to get the precise definition: Studio 54 was a fleshpot.
Oh, well, so much for trying to learn more by reading.
In additional to fleshpots, I thought about time and place.
The Haggadah has apparently been pretty much untouched (except by the modern versions) since shortly before 900 C.E. And it was compiled in Babylonia by Amram Gaon, although much of it is based on much older sources.
So, here in Babylon (actually Sura), present day Iraq, Amram is telling the story of Abram (Abraham), who left present day Iraq with his family, and went to Canaan, where he was promised that the land would be the homeland of his progeny, who would be numerous, like the sand on the beach. And he is telling the story when Canaan, present day Israel, was under Moslem control, and there was no chance that the Jews would ever return there.
So, Abraham's journey (maybe 2500 years before the time of Amram) and the unwanted journey of Abraham's great grandson Joseph to Egpyt is told, as well as the escape from Egypt by the Jews some 300-400 years later.
And, of course, the famous discussion of the four rabbis (Jose, Akiva and the others), which would have taken place about 800 years prior to the compilation by Amram, when following the destruction of temple and the desolation of Jerusalem, some were plotting a further campaign against the Romans, the misplanned Bar Kochba revolt, during which Akiva was to be killed.
So the story goes through time, the last event having taken place almost 2000 years ago, and the first one taking place almost 2000 years before that, and having been compiled and put into continuing use over 1100 years go.
It is impossible to discount the importance of something like this in Jewish cultural and religious history, whether it appears today to be relevant, accurate, humane, or even well written and well organized.
So, while people can put together "freedom haggadahs" and "feminist haggadahs" and "vegetarian haggadahs" and anything else, I don't necessarily think this for the best. I think rather the traditional hagaddah remains the best of all, but that the use of the traditional haggadah without commentary would be the equivalent of the bible without commentary, bound to lead - in this day and age - to misunderstanding, to fundamentalism, and to isolationism.
This year (having tired of thinking about how the glorification of the plagues is outmoded in this day and age of instant communication, when one can fly from Cairo to Tel Aviv in thirty minutes, and how the entire story of the escape from Egypt cannot help but hurt Jewish-Arab relations), I thought about other things.
For one thing, I was thinking about the "fleshpots of Egypt" that some people wanted to return to. I had always assumed that a fleshpot was like a nightclub, with girls and hashish (sort of like Studio 54), but an article I read said, 'no', the concentration should be on the 'pot', not the 'flesh', and that the fleshpots were the pots in which meat was cooked, which is just what the Israelites, who were stuck eating manna, would have wanted.
A new way of looking at this!! I had always been mistaken as to what a fleshpot was!!
So, I went to dictinary.com, and merriam-webster.com, etc. to get the precise definition: Studio 54 was a fleshpot.
Oh, well, so much for trying to learn more by reading.
In additional to fleshpots, I thought about time and place.
The Haggadah has apparently been pretty much untouched (except by the modern versions) since shortly before 900 C.E. And it was compiled in Babylonia by Amram Gaon, although much of it is based on much older sources.
So, here in Babylon (actually Sura), present day Iraq, Amram is telling the story of Abram (Abraham), who left present day Iraq with his family, and went to Canaan, where he was promised that the land would be the homeland of his progeny, who would be numerous, like the sand on the beach. And he is telling the story when Canaan, present day Israel, was under Moslem control, and there was no chance that the Jews would ever return there.
So, Abraham's journey (maybe 2500 years before the time of Amram) and the unwanted journey of Abraham's great grandson Joseph to Egpyt is told, as well as the escape from Egypt by the Jews some 300-400 years later.
And, of course, the famous discussion of the four rabbis (Jose, Akiva and the others), which would have taken place about 800 years prior to the compilation by Amram, when following the destruction of temple and the desolation of Jerusalem, some were plotting a further campaign against the Romans, the misplanned Bar Kochba revolt, during which Akiva was to be killed.
So the story goes through time, the last event having taken place almost 2000 years ago, and the first one taking place almost 2000 years before that, and having been compiled and put into continuing use over 1100 years go.
It is impossible to discount the importance of something like this in Jewish cultural and religious history, whether it appears today to be relevant, accurate, humane, or even well written and well organized.
So, while people can put together "freedom haggadahs" and "feminist haggadahs" and "vegetarian haggadahs" and anything else, I don't necessarily think this for the best. I think rather the traditional hagaddah remains the best of all, but that the use of the traditional haggadah without commentary would be the equivalent of the bible without commentary, bound to lead - in this day and age - to misunderstanding, to fundamentalism, and to isolationism.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Bonnie Kellert must be ecstatic
because of the standing ovation she received after today's solo piano concert at Epiphany Episcopal.
Four virtuoso pieces (19th century, many noted romanticism): Chopin nocturne, Mendelsohn theme and variations, Scriabin prelude and nocturne and Liszt waltz.
Only the last piece was familiar to me, but boy did I like the Scriabin. The nocturne portion is for the left hand only, but the lend hand sounds like (at least) two hands, and goes all up and down the keyboard (no, not glissando)
Four virtuoso pieces (19th century, many noted romanticism): Chopin nocturne, Mendelsohn theme and variations, Scriabin prelude and nocturne and Liszt waltz.
Only the last piece was familiar to me, but boy did I like the Scriabin. The nocturne portion is for the left hand only, but the lend hand sounds like (at least) two hands, and goes all up and down the keyboard (no, not glissando)
Passover
Once again, it seems like the first night of Passover will fall on the full moon. A continuing coincidence, or intelligent design?
Goldwater (11 cents)
This replaces my earlier posting, which did not do the trick.
Here is what I wanted to say:
In 1964, the Republicans nominated Barry Goldwater, Arizona senator, to run for president against Lyndon Johnson. Johnson won almost every state, in large part because even most of the Republicans thought Goldwater too conservative. Goldwater supporters were considered dangerous by most people, and in 1968, the Republicans changed course and nominated the very, very politically moderate Richard Nixon.
Goldwater had written a book in 1960, called Conscience of a Conservative, published by a small southern press (later republished many times), which laid out his political philosophy. I recently bought a signed first edition, and thought I would read it to see whether he seemed a radical in 2006 as he did in 1964.
The book is very short, and extremely simplistic and quick to read. I can see how it attracted the interest of so many people, who probably were not used to reading books of political thought.
His position is clear. An active federal government could easily become despotic. This is why the constitution left so much to the states. An active government at any level saps individuals of their individuality. This is why small government is better than big.
The role of government in defense is clear. He states that he is a firm supporter of equal opportunity as set forth in the 5th and 14th amendments. He believes in a strong social security program (suprise there) to give seniors sufficient (but not overly generous) resources by which to live.
But look at civil rights. He believes in one man, one vote (nothing by the way is said in the book about women, not suprising for the time), but he also believes that the constitution does not require integrated schools, and that this is a matter of states' rights. He himself, he says, favors integration, but who is he to tell what the people of Mississippi or Alabama want?
He is against democracy (too unwieldy, and likely to lead to dictatorship of the majority) and in favor of a republican system, which he says we have. But isn't an Alabama declaration of school segregation an exercise in dictatorship of the majority?
Presumably, if the constitution said to "integrate the schools", he would say OK. But, he said, when the 14th amendment was passed, the states who passed it maintained segregated schools, so you can't say that the 14th amendment requires integration.
He talks about federal spending, which he says, even in Republican administrations, grows consistently and is too high. But he warns against cutting taxes (which he generally is in favor of doing) without cutting expenses as being disastrous for the country.
He does not like welfare; he thinks that it contributes to classes of people growing dependant on the federal government, and then believing that they have entitlements, and their growth and development would be sapped for generations. In certain ways, he is correct, but he does not talk about any programs to assist those who really need it (other than through social security), such as those who are ill or disabled. He expects that, generally, everything will work out.
You can't fight mother nature. That's another theme of sorts. He says that equality of opportunity is important, but that nature endows people differently and some will fail and some succeed. He says that any attempt to equalize the results is doomed to failure.
He is very strong on education, but on basic, hard education, not the "progressive" education that was in vogue. And he is against any federal assistance to education, as leading to federal controls.
The final part of the book deals with foreign policy: Cuba and the Soviet Union. It says what you think it would. Carry a big stick, and don't give in. He is not all wrong in this area.
It was interesting to read. Some of the political issues today are, of course, different. But the philosophical issues remain the same. I should look at some of his last writing to see if he changed any of these basic positions as he grew into the role of beloved, elder statesman.
Here is what I wanted to say:
In 1964, the Republicans nominated Barry Goldwater, Arizona senator, to run for president against Lyndon Johnson. Johnson won almost every state, in large part because even most of the Republicans thought Goldwater too conservative. Goldwater supporters were considered dangerous by most people, and in 1968, the Republicans changed course and nominated the very, very politically moderate Richard Nixon.
Goldwater had written a book in 1960, called Conscience of a Conservative, published by a small southern press (later republished many times), which laid out his political philosophy. I recently bought a signed first edition, and thought I would read it to see whether he seemed a radical in 2006 as he did in 1964.
The book is very short, and extremely simplistic and quick to read. I can see how it attracted the interest of so many people, who probably were not used to reading books of political thought.
His position is clear. An active federal government could easily become despotic. This is why the constitution left so much to the states. An active government at any level saps individuals of their individuality. This is why small government is better than big.
The role of government in defense is clear. He states that he is a firm supporter of equal opportunity as set forth in the 5th and 14th amendments. He believes in a strong social security program (suprise there) to give seniors sufficient (but not overly generous) resources by which to live.
But look at civil rights. He believes in one man, one vote (nothing by the way is said in the book about women, not suprising for the time), but he also believes that the constitution does not require integrated schools, and that this is a matter of states' rights. He himself, he says, favors integration, but who is he to tell what the people of Mississippi or Alabama want?
He is against democracy (too unwieldy, and likely to lead to dictatorship of the majority) and in favor of a republican system, which he says we have. But isn't an Alabama declaration of school segregation an exercise in dictatorship of the majority?
Presumably, if the constitution said to "integrate the schools", he would say OK. But, he said, when the 14th amendment was passed, the states who passed it maintained segregated schools, so you can't say that the 14th amendment requires integration.
He talks about federal spending, which he says, even in Republican administrations, grows consistently and is too high. But he warns against cutting taxes (which he generally is in favor of doing) without cutting expenses as being disastrous for the country.
He does not like welfare; he thinks that it contributes to classes of people growing dependant on the federal government, and then believing that they have entitlements, and their growth and development would be sapped for generations. In certain ways, he is correct, but he does not talk about any programs to assist those who really need it (other than through social security), such as those who are ill or disabled. He expects that, generally, everything will work out.
You can't fight mother nature. That's another theme of sorts. He says that equality of opportunity is important, but that nature endows people differently and some will fail and some succeed. He says that any attempt to equalize the results is doomed to failure.
He is very strong on education, but on basic, hard education, not the "progressive" education that was in vogue. And he is against any federal assistance to education, as leading to federal controls.
The final part of the book deals with foreign policy: Cuba and the Soviet Union. It says what you think it would. Carry a big stick, and don't give in. He is not all wrong in this area.
It was interesting to read. Some of the political issues today are, of course, different. But the philosophical issues remain the same. I should look at some of his last writing to see if he changed any of these basic positions as he grew into the role of beloved, elder statesman.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Disappointment (and a subsequent pick-me-up)
I went in to see Thank You For Smoking yesterday evening with the greatest of expectations. But, boy, did I think it was a waste. Not really clever; not very funny.
The baked trout with cooked tomatoes and artichoke hearts at Arucola afterwords (and the glass of Chianti Classico) provided a good pick-me-up.
The baked trout with cooked tomatoes and artichoke hearts at Arucola afterwords (and the glass of Chianti Classico) provided a good pick-me-up.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Escape Literature
Books of no literary value, but which transport you out of your humdrum existence, is what you think about when you hear the term "escape literature", but this is not what I am talking about.
I am talking about memoirs written by people who have escaped from one place to another. People who had the misfortune to be in societies under political, social or religious dicatorships of one or another sort, who have escaped to societies free enough that they can write about their experiences and remain alive.
Holocaust books are one obvious category. Books about life under the Soviets, or under Castro are others. Today, the largest group of these books are being written by people who are leaving Islamic societies for western societies.
I have just read three of these books.
"Journey from the Land of No" is Roya Hakakian's story of her childhood and adolescence in Tehran. She is now a journalist in the U.S.
"Between Two Worlds" is Zainab Salbi's story of her childhood and adolescence in Baghdad. She lives in Washington.
"The Oath" is Khassan Baiev's story of his childhood and early adulthood as a physician in Chechnya. He lives in Boston.
These are three impressive individuals whose lives have taken them through extraordinary experiences. They are all still young (I believe each is in his 30s). They all grew up in places that were, for them, quite nice, until bad things started happening.
All three places are Moslem for the most part. Salbi and Baiev are Moslem; Hakakian is Jewish.
All were westernizing the in the late twentieth century. Chechnya as part of the USSR and then the Russian Republic as a commercial and oil center. Tehran under the Shaw, and Baghdad under Baathist leadership. But under the westernizing cover, something else was going on. Islam was having a difficult time adopting to a non-Islamic, secularizing society. The Shah and the Baathists and the Russians could only make these lands safe for westernization by operating brutal dictatorships, feeding resentment and need for change.
In each case, in Iran with Khomenei in 1979, in Iraq with Saddam Hussein, and in Chechnya, where they saw the Baltic States declare their independence upon the break up of the USSR, there was at first great optimism that nationalism and Islam (achieving control by anti-Western actions and words) would lead to a new and better and freer society. No one (at least none of these authors or their family or friends) thought that chaos was just around the corner; yet it was, and not in one place, but in all three.
According to Hakakian, even the Jewish community welcomed the exile of the shah and the entry of the ayatollah. A religious state had to be freer than a state which maintained its power through the thugs of Savak. But, step by step, the state grew narrower and narrower in outlook, diversity was oppressed, and the brutality of the shah was replaced by an equally brutal Islamicist brutality. Hakakian's middle class Jewish family, her father a respected teacher, was torn apart, little by little. A society where Jews were allowed to be Jews, yet associate with Moslems, was no more. Yet, with all of their troubles (and there were many), they got out. As one of her friends told her: "you're lucky, Roya. You're a Jew. Once you leave Iran, you'll get a visa to any country in the world. But where can I go?" And, she continued, "You must go. Go soon. Go and never look back."
Salbi's case was even more unique. Her father was a pilot for the Iraqi airlines, flying international routes. The family spent a month every year at Boeing in Seattle, where he receeived advance training. Her mother was from a family prominent in Baghdad for generations. They knew Saddam Hussein. And then, the unthinkable happened. Saddam asked her father to pilot his private jet. This was an offer you could not turn down, and it destroyed their lives. They lived well. They had advantages. They were given a weekend house on the estate where Saddam had his weekend house. He was a regular presence and guest. They all hated him. They all pretended to love him. They were afraid of everything, and of everyone.
Her mother wanted to leave. Her father said it was impossible. The marriage broke up. Salbi tried to escape into an engagement with a young man of very different background. Someone not of the Iraqi elite. It was a disaster. Then, her mother told her she found her a match, with a man 13 years her senior, from Baghdad, but who lived in Chicago. They were married; her was brutal. She left him. But it got her out of Iraq.
Hakakian became a journalist. Salbi started a non-profit organization to help women brutalized by war, and has spent time in Bosnia, in Afghanistan and, yes, even back in Iraq. They are both extraordinary individuals. And they have told their full stories.
Baiev fought to become a doctor, when there were quotas at Russian medical schools. He became a plastic surgeon, specializing in very difficult cases. He spent much time in Russia, learning (as he had not realized growing up) how much prejudice existed against Chechens. When the war broke out (not once, but twice), he felt he had to stay in and around Grozny to help the war wounded.
His story is grueling. He finally left and was given political asylum here.
These are three unbelievable stories. Yet there are thousands more, undoubtedly, similar to them. And there are millions of others who, like Roya Hakakian's friend, are unable to get out to tell their stories. They must live through these horrible times, or die in them.
There are terrible things happening in this world right now. And we can't seem to do anything (right) about them.
I am talking about memoirs written by people who have escaped from one place to another. People who had the misfortune to be in societies under political, social or religious dicatorships of one or another sort, who have escaped to societies free enough that they can write about their experiences and remain alive.
Holocaust books are one obvious category. Books about life under the Soviets, or under Castro are others. Today, the largest group of these books are being written by people who are leaving Islamic societies for western societies.
I have just read three of these books.
"Journey from the Land of No" is Roya Hakakian's story of her childhood and adolescence in Tehran. She is now a journalist in the U.S.
"Between Two Worlds" is Zainab Salbi's story of her childhood and adolescence in Baghdad. She lives in Washington.
"The Oath" is Khassan Baiev's story of his childhood and early adulthood as a physician in Chechnya. He lives in Boston.
These are three impressive individuals whose lives have taken them through extraordinary experiences. They are all still young (I believe each is in his 30s). They all grew up in places that were, for them, quite nice, until bad things started happening.
All three places are Moslem for the most part. Salbi and Baiev are Moslem; Hakakian is Jewish.
All were westernizing the in the late twentieth century. Chechnya as part of the USSR and then the Russian Republic as a commercial and oil center. Tehran under the Shaw, and Baghdad under Baathist leadership. But under the westernizing cover, something else was going on. Islam was having a difficult time adopting to a non-Islamic, secularizing society. The Shah and the Baathists and the Russians could only make these lands safe for westernization by operating brutal dictatorships, feeding resentment and need for change.
In each case, in Iran with Khomenei in 1979, in Iraq with Saddam Hussein, and in Chechnya, where they saw the Baltic States declare their independence upon the break up of the USSR, there was at first great optimism that nationalism and Islam (achieving control by anti-Western actions and words) would lead to a new and better and freer society. No one (at least none of these authors or their family or friends) thought that chaos was just around the corner; yet it was, and not in one place, but in all three.
According to Hakakian, even the Jewish community welcomed the exile of the shah and the entry of the ayatollah. A religious state had to be freer than a state which maintained its power through the thugs of Savak. But, step by step, the state grew narrower and narrower in outlook, diversity was oppressed, and the brutality of the shah was replaced by an equally brutal Islamicist brutality. Hakakian's middle class Jewish family, her father a respected teacher, was torn apart, little by little. A society where Jews were allowed to be Jews, yet associate with Moslems, was no more. Yet, with all of their troubles (and there were many), they got out. As one of her friends told her: "you're lucky, Roya. You're a Jew. Once you leave Iran, you'll get a visa to any country in the world. But where can I go?" And, she continued, "You must go. Go soon. Go and never look back."
Salbi's case was even more unique. Her father was a pilot for the Iraqi airlines, flying international routes. The family spent a month every year at Boeing in Seattle, where he receeived advance training. Her mother was from a family prominent in Baghdad for generations. They knew Saddam Hussein. And then, the unthinkable happened. Saddam asked her father to pilot his private jet. This was an offer you could not turn down, and it destroyed their lives. They lived well. They had advantages. They were given a weekend house on the estate where Saddam had his weekend house. He was a regular presence and guest. They all hated him. They all pretended to love him. They were afraid of everything, and of everyone.
Her mother wanted to leave. Her father said it was impossible. The marriage broke up. Salbi tried to escape into an engagement with a young man of very different background. Someone not of the Iraqi elite. It was a disaster. Then, her mother told her she found her a match, with a man 13 years her senior, from Baghdad, but who lived in Chicago. They were married; her was brutal. She left him. But it got her out of Iraq.
Hakakian became a journalist. Salbi started a non-profit organization to help women brutalized by war, and has spent time in Bosnia, in Afghanistan and, yes, even back in Iraq. They are both extraordinary individuals. And they have told their full stories.
Baiev fought to become a doctor, when there were quotas at Russian medical schools. He became a plastic surgeon, specializing in very difficult cases. He spent much time in Russia, learning (as he had not realized growing up) how much prejudice existed against Chechens. When the war broke out (not once, but twice), he felt he had to stay in and around Grozny to help the war wounded.
His story is grueling. He finally left and was given political asylum here.
These are three unbelievable stories. Yet there are thousands more, undoubtedly, similar to them. And there are millions of others who, like Roya Hakakian's friend, are unable to get out to tell their stories. They must live through these horrible times, or die in them.
There are terrible things happening in this world right now. And we can't seem to do anything (right) about them.
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