Mikvah, Safety and more

A visit from Aliza Kline of the Mayyim Hayyim community mikvah brought up a kind of intense and weird nostalgia and homesickness in me today.

When Aliza arrived at my work, she called to ask about parking. I said I'd meet her outside and when I got there, the driveway was blocked by a van. After I yelled and got the van moved, the driveway was still made very difficult by cars parked on either side. Then she had to take her car down the steep, curved incline to our parking, while I was simultaneously berating the man who was blocking easy entrance (he said he wasn't) and talking to a student who wanted to talk to me.

Later, after the presentation, her entrance seemed like a metaphor to me about my life in Israel. There was one moment during it when I thought "wait, she's not an olah, she may not be able to handle this".

Aliza started her presentation talking about what makes a ritual work. In 11 years in Israel, I feel I have not heard people ask this kind of question. I had trouble understanding it - rituals work and don't work - it's rarely one or the other to me. She asked the students what a ritual was and they had answers - I could not remember what a ritual is. I was trying to figure out which parts of my life are ritual and which are not, and did not feel sure I could distinguish.

But I should back up. That was after another conversation on our way over to the Beit Midrash. My boss had mentioned the old mikvah in Brighton, and I said I had been there before my wedding, and then started on thinking about that and about what it has meant to me to pass at the mikvah - pass for straight that is, because I've never been to the mikvah when I was not a lesbian, and I've never been out at a mikvah, whatever that would mean.

Aliza talked a lot about safe space and what it means to create a space where people are going to feel safe taking off their clothes. I didn't even feel safe talking about it. I noticed most faculty were not there, and I noticed the relative ease with which the students participated, and I thought about how much more restrained a culture Israel is when it comes to talking about sexuality.

I thought about my kids, and about how I went to the mikvah before I got pregnant, for a period of months each time, and about how I was always passing as a straight person. I thought, and almost said something, about how the mikvah lady told me "livriut" and about how I prayed to get pregnant each time. I thought of the Reform rabbi who married us and who had recommended mikvah to me when I was trying to get pregnant, and I thought of the ultrasound technician who, the day after the first time I went to the mikvah in that process, asked me, "did you go to the mikvah?" Could she see it on my face? It was the one and only time in the fertility process that I was asked. I didn't think of, but think of now, the kavannah a friend gave me for mikvah, and how I prayed for everyone who was trying to get pregnant, and how until this day I have a track record - all the people I have prayed for, there and elsewhere, that they be blessed to become parents, have received that blessing.

I listened to Aliza talk about making mikvah in Massachusetts safe and accessible space for everyone. It kind of reminded me of how I feel when I daven with a Reconstructionist siddur - like, oh, my spirituality used to be like that - open, full of possibilities. Aliza had asked for an example of what doesn't work and when I said, "when you can't bring your whole self there" she said, "like maybe when a mechitza isn't done in a way that can work for you," and I thought of the many Shabbat mornings I spend in a mechitza shul where I daven and what it means to try to bring my whole self there to a space that doesn't reflect my values and what it means to pray or be part of any ritual moment and not be all of me but still feel transformed and uplifted. And what it means to sit with contradictions and discomfort and not knowing.

I thought of the parking lot entrance, and how much that feels like my ritual life here. I wondered if I will one day experience some reclamation of mikvah. Alen said maybe we shouldn't be planning a trip to disney world and instead should be thinking of going back to Massachusetts for a trip to Mayyim Hayyim. Then I think of my very real moments in the mikvah, and my very real kids, and thank G-d.

Don't make these fish cakes at 6 pm

I made a big mistake tonight when I started thinking about making dinner around 6 pm. We sat down close to 8 pm. However, since I sort of made this Passover recipe up myself, I figured I would share it.

A bunch of left over tilapia from last night occasioned these parve Pesach fish cakes:

Mash up a bunch of left over fish.
Peel, boil and mash about 3-4 potatoes.
Add salt, pepper, about 1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley, 1 tablespoon matzo meal, a teaspoon of mayonnaise, 1/2 teaspoon of mustard if you eat kitniyot, juice of 1/2 a lemon. Taste to correct seasonings. Then add one egg. Mix it all up.

To fry, make balls and roll them in matzo meal, then flatten them in the frying pan in hot olive oil. Cook it in a better frying pan than I have. Put the ones that are done in the oven until they are all cooked.

Serve with lemon, mayo, or whatever else you think will be good, and a big salad.

For chocolate toffee matzo to serve after, see this

For more Pesach recipes from me, see here

Hag sameach to all!

Coming out again!

Those of you who know me or read this blog regularly probably know that to get lots of medical services I drive about 5 km to an ultra-orthodox west bank settlement.

Today after I got home from work and dropped the kids to their sport, I ran to get a prescription filled for Alen. I didn't have her health insurance card with me.

At the pharmacy were 2 orthodox or ultra-orthodox women behind the counter, the pharmacist whom I don't know and the well-baby/child nurse whom I do know but have not seen for awhile.

So I asked the pharmacist could she put the charge on my card (it goes direct to my bank account) and she said, but who is Anne (Alen)? Who is she to you? So I said, she's my partner (bat-zug) and she says, she's your friend? Where's her card? What's her ID number?

So I said, it's here on the prescription and she's my partner. And she says, they will want to know, who is she to you, and I say again, as if I'm talking to a 2 year old, she's my partner. And I see her writing in the computer "haverot" (friends). And I said, "what, is it forbidden for you to write partner?"

She's flustered and I'm getting pissed off and the well baby nurse says, "Oh hi, how are your kids, your son is Alex right?" And the pharmacist says, "one pill four times a day." And me and the nurse say, "these are eye drops". Then the pharmacist goes off to answer the phone and the nurse and I continue talking about Sasha and whether he gets another appointment and I give her my phone number to call me.

This nurse really saved me from myself and from feeling bad. I try not to make waves in Beitar, but at the same time, if someone asks me directly, I'm going to say and stand up for my family. The nurse gave me a very positive message, "I know you, I see your family, I recognize you. This community may be homophobic but I'm not - I know you and I like you."

Enough coming out for today.

Thoughts after one year - in memory of Lucas

Today is Ash Wednesday. Yesterday was Mardi Gras - Carnival Tuesday - the day that Lucas died.

I can't believe it has been one year. My heart is with Sophie, Eddie & Kayleigh and all the family.

Thank you to everyone who has helped Alen & me and our kids during this year.

Two books I read this summer and fall helped a lot. One was "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" - a book of interviews by Studs Terkel. It's lots of different perspectives on death, loss and faith. The other is "Does the Soul Survive" by Rabbi Elie Spitz.

I spent almost two weeks in California at the end of January and beginning of February. I had not been there in 30 years. Everywhere I went I was welcomed by people I know from all parts of my life - from grade school, from my college days, from my first year in Israel in '83-'84, from rabbinical school and from these past 11 years in Israel. I also met new people - including my 3rd cousin and 3rd cousin once removed and his wife.

My cousin Andrew the genealogist gave me a gift - the marriage certificate of my great uncle Jack. It turns out my uncle Jack married his wife Edith exactly two weeks after my grandparents got married, on Sunday, April 28, 1929. (Or maybe it's the 23rd - the date is hard to read - the 23rd would make more sense if it was a civil wedding at an office not open on Sundays.)

My grandparents were married April 14, 1929 in Sharon, MA. In California I saw several people who are connected to Sharon and decided that all roads lead to Sharon - the place where my grandparents married and are buried.

I also saw and felt many other things connected to the past - to the Holocaust especially.

I came back feeling that if I can go 9000 miles away to a place where I have not been for 30 years and experience so many amazing connections from so many times, then there really is no time and no space and no distance.

When Lucas died the song that kept coming to me was the Sweet Honey In the Rock song, Listen More Often. You can find it on this blog if you search the Lucas tag - it's the first song I posted when he died. I'll probably make a new tag for loss as well. The song says "The dead are not under the earth" and it's something I believe more every day.

Sending lots of love to everyone who reads this.

Gail

Too Few & Far Between

Deirdre McCalla herself sent me the lyrics and said she'll post the song next month on www.deirdremccalla.com. Believe it or not, I had them mostly memorized, but I had forgotten the second verse.

TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
(Deidre McCalla)

AFTER IT'S ALL SAID AND DONE WE REMEMBER
TIME WILL MOVE ON BUT THE MEMORIES REPEAT
ME IN MY SCARS MEETING YOU WITH YOUR HUNGER
TO CRY IN THE NIGHT ON A ST. THOMAS BEACH
THERE'S NO REWRITING HISTORY
BE DAMNED YOUR LUCK AT ALL
TO BE BORN INTO AN AGE WHERE
GENTLE MEN STILL FALL
TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND IT DOESN'T MAKE A LIFETIME

PIECES OF DREAMS IN A CARELESS WIND SCATTERED
TOSSED BY THE TIDES AND THE VAGARIES OF FATE
HEARTS ONCE UNITED AND TESTED BY FIRE
STRETCH TO THEIR LIMIT AND FINALLY BREAK
INSIDE A CONSTANT STRANGER
MAKES HER PEACE WITH EACH NEW SUN
DESIRE'S ONLY PASSING
AND TRUE LOVE OFTEN COMES
TOO FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND IT DOESN'T MAKE A LIFETIME

THE SACRIFICE OFFERED BY EACH GENERATION
ARE THOSE WHO WILL RISE UP AND ANSWER THE CALL
CHANGE HAPPENS SLOWLY AND OUR REVOLUTION
STILL QUESTIONS THE PRICE OF EACH WARRIOR WHO FALLS
THE CHOICES ARE REFLECTED
IN THOUGHT AND WORD AND DEED
FOR CAUSES WE WOULD DIE FOR
AND REASONS TO BELIEVE
ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
AND THEY OFTEN TAKE A LIFETIME

WHEN THE TIME COMES TO COUNT UP ALL OUR BLESSINGS
IT MAY SEEM HARD TO KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN
ONE IS THE PURE CELEBRATION OF LIVING
TWO IS THE LIGHT IN THE EYE OF A FRIEND
TREASURE EVERY MOMENT
WHERE THE LAUGHTER FALLS LIKE RAIN
THERE WILL BE DAYS OF SORROW
AND THE ECHOES THAT REMAIN
ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN
BUT THEY OFTEN MAKE A LIFETIME

I always thought that I'd see you again

I wanted to share some songs and poems I've been thinking of in the days since I found out my beloved friend Alan Kaufmann took his own life last week.

Alan and I met in the summer of 1981 when I was 19. I don't know if we saw each other since that time. Today I went looking for the box he gave me with a scroll in it saying that I would always have a place in his heart. We were connected to each other until the day he died, and had planned to see each other February 1. Since he died I understand everything about why we will not be seeing each other, but I still grieve.

While looking for the box he gave me I came across this poem:

Should you go first and I remain
To walk to road alone
I'll live in memory's garden dear
With happy days we've known
In spring I'll watch for roses red
When fades the lilac blue
In early fall when brown leaves call
I'll catch a glimpse of you

....Should you go first and I remain
To finish with the scroll
No length'ning shadows shall creep in
To make this life seem droll
We've known so much happiness
We've had our cup of joy
And memory is one gift of G-d
That death cannot destroy

In the box where I found Alan Kaufmann's photos I also found lots of love letters from my Alen that made me smile.

I've been thinking of the Deirdre McCalla song too few and far between, but I can't find the lyrics online. Her music really speaks to me right now. Since I can't find that, I'll post this beautiful version of her song Blessings.

I owe her my life - Ellen Pence z"l

My heart is breaking because the woman I owe my life to has left this world.

There must be thousands of women who owe Ellen their lives, because she devoted her life to fighting against violence against women, and to training women who worked with battered women. You can see a video of her talking about it here

But you have to take 20 plus years off her to see Ellen as I saw her, yet lose none of the sureness and none of the humor.

Ellen was an amazing teacher, and she taught us how to teach. She talked about Paulo Friere, and about what it meant to empower women in the way we taught. Listen to the video - she is teaching about teaching by listening. Every day I get up to teach, Ellen is with me.

But the reason I owe her my life is that she was the person who told me to come out. I was working with women all the time but living a straight life, and Ellen, in a warm, joking, absolutely certain way, told me I needed to stop. She told me, with a smile, that if I got married to a man, I'd eventually be divorced, because I would meet a woman and fall in love. I said, "will she have glasses?"

That was in the fall of 1987.

The rest is history.

Ellen, you are not gone. Your inspiration lives on in me every day, as I know it does in your son, in your partner, and in all the people whose lives you touched.