In memory of Lucas

I'm posting these lyrics in memory of Lucas who died one week ago. The title to the song is linked to the youtube song:

BREATHS by Sweet Honey and the Rock

Refrain:
Listen more often to things than to beings.
Listen more often to things than to beings.
Tis the ancestors’ breath when the fire’s voice is heard
Tis the ancestors’ breath in the voice of the water.

Those who have died have never ever left.
The dead are not under the earth.
They are in the rustling trees.
They are in the groaning woods.
They are in the crying grass.
They are in the moaning rocks.
The dead are not under the earth.
So,

(Refrain)

Those who have died have never ever left.
The dead have a pact with the living.
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the waiting child.
They with us in the home,
They are with us in the crowd.
The dead have pact with the living
So,

I also heard this performed by the gay men's a cappella group, the Flirtations, with Michael Callen, in the middle of the AIDS crisis. Hear their version here

What it is and isn't like

Leslea Newman had a great book of poems called "Love Me Like You Mean It". It looks like it's been republished as Signs of Love.

In it was a poem called something like "What it is and isn't like," or something like that, about lovemaking and what she wished it was and what it actually was. I love that poem.

So the tragic sudden death of Alen's nephew Lucas has me feeling a lot like I felt when Alen's mom died suddenly in 2003. A lot of things are the same, and a lot of stupid things people say are the same, and a lot of great support people are giving my family is the same.

When Alen's mom died some people said, "Was she close to her mom?" Yeah, uh, she lived inside her body once for nine months, you know? About as close as you can get I'm thinking.

I can't take in the fact that a four year old boy from our family whom we loved is dead and my son is walking around. And that's not because I'm not in Trinidad and it's so far away. It doesn't feel far away. The advent of facebook in the intervening years since Alen's mom died has made everything seem that much closer and it doesn't feel far from here at all. Even if Lucas's body were here in this room, I could not take this in.

I'm the same person I was - I have no experience of the sudden death of relatives from my side of the family and as when her mom died, I don't feel this is Alen's loss only. Someone said to me, "What happens to your partner affects you" and that felt totally wrong to me. This doesn't feel like something that's happening to Alen, it's happening to our family each in their own way. My inlaws are my family. I hope Alen feels that her inlaws, my blood family, are her family.

Some people think stoicism and not showing feelings is a really great thing. I should have more compassion and understanding for them - they obviously work really hard at not showing feelings or weakness and in many cases, culturally that is important to them. There's a wide gulf between them and me on this issue. I have it with Gabi - who prefers to tell few people about what is going on and the ones she tells she asks not to tell others. She doesn't want people knowing personal things about her. I don't know if this was acculturated for her in the education system, if they gave her something in the hospital when she was born, or if this is character and not culture, but it seems she's on her way to being an Israeli.

I'm having a normal grief reaction, which means that my usual variable ability to focus is way out of range. I have, however, managed to get Gabi to school, to get Sasha dressed, to get lunches made, to get laundry moving, and I'm now on my way to the next tasks, only about 45 minutes behind schedule.

Alen made it to London and flies out to Trinidad in about 4 hours. Please keep her, Lucas' parents, Eddie & Sophie, his sister, Kayleigh, his grandfather, Vlad, his grandmother, Lynette, his aunts and uncles Lisa, Jonny and Spencer, his other cousins, his caregiver Cindy, and all their family in your prayers.

All the lyrics to Blow Ye Winds

Blow, Ye Winds

Traditional - Lyrics from Songs of American Sailormen, by Joanna Colcord


'Tis advertised in Boston, New York and Buffalo,
Five hundred brave Americans, a-whaling for to go, singing

Blow, ye winds in the morning, And blow, ye winds, high-i!
Clear away your running gear, And blow, ye winds, high-o!

They send you to New Bedord, that famous whaling port,
And give you to some land-sharks to board and fit you out.

They send you to a boarding-house, there for a time to dwell;
The thieves they there are thicker than the other side of hell!

They tell you of the clipper-ships-a-going in and out,
And say you'll take five hundred sperm before you're six months out.

It's now we're out to sea, my boys, the wind comes on to blow;
One half the watch is sick on deck, the other half below.

But as for the provisions, we don't get half enough;
A little piece of stinking beef and a blamed small bag of duff.

Now comes that damned old compass, it will grieve your heart full sore.
For theirs is two-and-thirty points and we have forty-four.

Next comes the running rigging, which you're all supposed to know;
'Tis "Lay aloft, you son-of-a-gun, or overboard you go!"

The cooper's at the vise-bench, a-making iron poles,
And the mate's upon the main hatch a-cursing all our souls.

The Skipper's on the quarter-deck a-squinting at the sails,
When up aloft the lookout sights a school of whales.

"Now clear away the boats, my boys, and after him we'll travel,
But if you get too near his fluke, he'll kick you to the devil!"

Now we have got him turned up, we tow him alongside;
We over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide.

Now the boat-steerer overside the tackle overhauls,
The Skipper's in the main-chains, so loudly he does bawl!

Next comes the stowing down, my boys; 'twill take both night and day,
And you'll all have fifty cents apiece on the hundred and ninetieth lay.

Now we are bound into Tonbas, that blasted whaling port,
And if you run away, my boys, you surely will get caught.

Now we are bound into Tuckoona, full more in their power,
Where the skippers can buy the Consul up for half a barrel of flour!

But now that our old ship is full and we don't give a damn,
We'll bend on all our stu'nsails and sail for Yankee land.

When we get home, our ship made fast, and we get through our sailing,
A winding glass around we'll pass and damn this blubber whaling!

"I Come for to Sing"

Folksinging in Woods Hole always began the same way:

Some come to dance/some come to play/others come just to pass time away
Some come to laugh/their voices do ring/but as for me/I come for to sing

Some kids join in/others do not/
some like to talk about what I ain't got
But I don't care/it don't mean a thing/I'll keep on coming, coming to sing


Phyllis Switzer Goldstein z"l led folksinging at the MBL club in Woods Hole for 45 years. She was a shining light in my life, and living proof of how much influence one person can have through song. January took three wonderful Jewish women who loved singing from the world - Debbie Friedman, Felice Yeskel, and Phyllis. Phyllis was the one I knew longest - from my childhood through the incredible privilege of taking my daughter to sing with her in 2006 and 2008.

The photo is of her in recent years - take off 40 years or so and you'll see how I saw her as a child - she was beautiful. She always wore the same outfit to folksinging when we were kids - a navy blue shirt and white pants. The other place I would see her was on the tennis court - tanned and athletic, looking anything but femme in one of those cute tennis skirts women wore (wear?). I saw her with the adoring eyes of a child - she was larger than life - funny, charismatic, brilliant.

Phyllis taught us American History through music - sea shanties, spirituals (like Follow the Drinking Gourd), union songs, along with lots of humor. And she made up songs about Woods Hole. This is an old favorite of mine that she stopped singing the last 15 years or so:

Good to be in Woods Hole (to the tune of 'Tom Dooley')

Good to be in Woods Hole/I will never roam
Good to be in Woods Hole/I'm never ever going back home

Every day that's sunny/reckon where I'll be
Down at a beach called stony/swimming in the wide wide sea

The MBL club is our place/we make the rafters ring
On Mondays some of us come to dance/on Tuesdays we all come and sing

Last night I went to Joe's to eat/I wasn't wearing shoes
The sign said no bare feet allow/now I'm singing those fried clam blues

Another old favorite:

Take me back to Woods Hole, Take me back to Woods Hole, Take me back oh take me back oh take me back to Woods Hole
Oh to be in Old Woods Hole, that's where I'd rather be, than be bound in New York, suffering from humidity

One I've been thinking of lately that came with a story
A way down south in the yankety yank/a bullfrog jumped from bank to bank
just because he'd nothing better for to do
Well he stubbed his toe when he fell in the water
You could hear him yell for a mile and a quarter
Just because he'd nothing better for to do

Like much of Phyllis's teaching, that story came with a moral, which was about the pride of the bullfrog and how it got him into trouble.

Phyllis did a story and song Abiyoyo - I only later found out it came from Pete Seeger. This also had a moral, one we kids loved, that a boy with a guitar causing trouble could wind up saving his community.

When I was very young, we got to choose if we wanted Abiyoyo or Stewball. Here's one version of Stewball - there are a bunch online.

With my kids, I find myself singing more of the silly songs Phyllis sang in the last 2 decades: Black Socks, Slam the door on the doctor's nose, There was a man who had a goat. There were also gospel favorites like Good News, Chariot's a comin We sang this in a bunch of parts. And there were nonsense like songs or songs in languages that we did not understand - a ram sam sam

Phyllis directed musicals in Woods Hole and Falmouth for a number of years. You had to be a certain age, 8 or 9 maybe, to audition. When I finally reached the age I went to the audition. I had to sing something for Phyllis and I was very nervous. The song I chose to sing was one we sang at folksinging: Hey Ho, Nobody Home. I guess I must have seemed very nervous - afterwards Phyllis asked me how old I was and shook my hand. It was a big let down because I really wanted to be in the play but she clearly thought I was too young. And after that she stopped doing the plays, so I didn't get another chance. I remember though the production of Iolanthe she put on - it was beautiful.

Folksinging always ended with This Land is Your Land. There was a special harmony the cool teens sang: This land is your land, this land is mine, from Maine to Montana, desert to the shore, we sing that this land is your land, this land is mine, this land is made for you and me. And then "one last time"!

I had occasion to reflect on this song in one of my "driving questions" meditations, when I heard Bruce Springsteen on the radio singing it as I was driving home through the West Bank a few years back. The few times I was with Alen at folksinging, this song kind of stuck in our throats as we made our way into exile from the US. Phyllis taught me so much about the American dream and about how America could be a country for all of us - for Jews, for African Americans, for New Englanders.

I was surprised when I grew up and Phyllis treated me like an adult - I always felt like that small child in her eyes. I remember seeing her in 2002 and telling her I was living in Israel - it was the height of the intifada. I don't remember what she said but I remember her look - I came away with a sense of her pride in and love of Israel and understanding of the difficult and complex situation here. When I was a pulpit rabbi, especially when I got to work with children, I always felt that she was one of my true role models for how to be.

If you are reading this, don't hesitate to be someone in the life of a child. I read in recent years that people who consider themselves successful in life know who their role models are. Phyllis Switzer Goldstein was a role model for me, my siblings, and countless other young people. May her memory be for a blessing.

carrot kugel & lace cookies

It's about time for more recipes.

I made this carrot kugel for a pot luck last week. I wish I had made two. No one in my family except me wants to eat it, but I thought it was great. I used a few different recipes I found online and elsewhere and did not measure much. There is a souffle version where you beat the egg whites, but I did not do that either. There are all kinds of versions, one where you cook the carrots first, etc., but I did it the easy way.

About 8 carrots chopped fine in the food processor - most recipes say 3 and a half cups - I think I was kind of heavy on the carrots, which might explain why it took so long to cook.
2 eggs
3/4 cup brown sugar was in the recipe, I used only about 1/4 cup. It could have been sweeter.
1/4 cup oil
1 cup flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
juice of 1/2 lemon - or more
cinnamon to taste
some vanilla

Mix it up, put it in a pan and bake it for a long time at around 375. I think it took like almost an hour. Cut it in squares and eat it. I think it's pretty healthy, does not cost much, and it definitely got eaten at the potluck.

I also made lace cookies on Friday when I was feeling low which were not very lacy but were delicious. Then coincidentally my mom send me a recipe for them. My mom's friend said she made them parve, but that sounded blasphemous to me. Here's what I did, modified from Fanny Farmer cookbook:

1 1/2 cups uncooked oatmeal
about 1 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1/2 tsp salt
2/3 cup melted butter
1 egg beaten
1/2 tsp vanilla
I added some craisins (hamutziyot as they are called here) - about 1/4 cup

Mix all this and bake at 350 on greaseproof paper. Hide them so your family won't eat them up.

If you've read this far, I will tell you that the life of a Fanny Farmer cookbook in my house is about 10 years or less. Judy K. kindly gave me a new one when we were making aliyah to Israel, but it is now broken into two pieces. If you are coming my way and have room in your suitcase, please consider bringing one!

Comments on Sisterhood

Comments that came to me from a reader via facebook got me thinking about this wonderful piece by Bernice Johnson Reagon and because of how the world works these days I googled her and when I couldn't find it I wrote to her and she wrote back (which is amazing, because she's one of my role models) and told me how to find the piece which is printed on someone's blog here, and found in an easier downloadable word format if you google Bernice Johnson Reagon Coalition Politics, and published in a wonderful anthology called Home Girls, which is a must read, and if you never read this article, read it now. It relates exquisitely to what I wrote in my last post but please don't think I am comparing myself to this amazing woman - she is light years ahead of me and her website is here.

Sisterhood, Coming out again, and lesbian mainstreaming

Here's a song I learned at the Seneca Women's Peace Camp in 1988 - suitable for Parshat Beshalach

Come come sisterhood, come joy eternal
Our love is mystical, our love is carnal
I'll dance nimble steps, I'll be a Miriam
Leading my people across the water

It's a rewrite of a Shaker tune. The Shakers, along with my grandparents pictured on the post below, roll in their graves when I sing it.

I came out in 1987, while working in the Battered Women's Movement. I was surrounded by women's community and much influenced by a close co-worker who considered herself a separatist. With her and a bunch of other women, I went to Michigan, the mythic women's music festival, in the summer of 1988, a life-transforming experience. I joined a women's mystery school around that time and went on six retreats with a group of women. I joined Achyot Or, a Jewish women's group that meets every memorial day weekend. I was surrounded by sisterhood.

This week Felice Yeskel, a guiding light and spirit in Achyot Or, a tremendous woman and role model for me, died. You can read more about her here.

On the day of Felice's funeral this week (and the day of Debbie Friedman's funeral), I went to give a talk to a small group of North American volunteers about same-sex Bi-national couples. I made a power point presentation and told them about Alen's and my story, as well as about how immigration is part of our family's stories. It was the first time I had done anything like this and it was very well received.

On the way home, I picked up a soldier who was on his way to Beitar Illit, the Haredi settlement near us. I said I wanted to support anyone from Beitar who serves in the army. As we drove up the hill I considered what I would tell him about myself, and eventually told him I have a female partner. He checked my language in Hebrew to be sure I meant Bat Zug and not Ben Zug. I could almost feel the change in him as he sat next to me. For him, an ultra-orthodox man, it's probably the first time he's ever met an out lesbian. We had a wide-ranging discussion that included his asking me some questions like how we had our children. Did I open his eyes? Does this make change? I don't know.

In 1990, a few years after I came out, I went to hear Starhawk talk on Valentine's Day. Those of you who know anything about her and anything about me know that our religious lives and directions are very different, but I definitely felt at this presentation that I was in the presence of a Holy person. One thing she said I remember - that it was time to work together - for women to work with men. I found that hard to accept, but in some level I took it as true, and have worked with men almost ever since, and for the past ten years, intensively. It's been a hard change for me to swallow, based on where I came from, but shortly after that time I let go of whatever separatist direction I might have gone in.

Yet and still. I miss sisterhood. I miss the intensity of the world I came out into. Alen and I ordered DVDs of the L word and we've been watching it. It's nice to connect with lesbian identity in some way. Our lives are SO mainstreamed - to the point where we have to work to find and be part of any kind of gay or women's community.

This is written in love for all my friends of all the years - especially in my heart are all the women who supported me when I came out, Lisa who went to the Starhawk talk with me (can that be true? On your birthday?), Felice's partner and daughter, and all my sisters from Achyot Or. Your thoughts and feedback are sincerely requested!!!