Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Jewish (Page 6 of 8)

The Jewish Blogger

February 3, 2006 / / 32 Comments

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Sophia and I picked up her mother and step-father.  We were going to go out for dinner.  We always go out for Chinese, so Sophia thought we should try something new.

"How would you like to try Canter’s Deli?" she asked.

Sophia’s mother made a face showing her disinterest.    Too salty and too sweet. 

Now my parents, being New York-bred Jews, were raised on deli food.  My father, in particular, loved to eat stuff like corned beef sandwiches and stuff cabbage — even when my mother wouldn’t let him touch the cholesterol-laden stuff for the last ten years.    This deli food is usually thought of as "Jewish" (even though it is probably originally Polish, Romanian, or Hungarian food).

My grandparents come from a small village in Russia/Poland, pretty much the same area that Sophia’s grandparents came from.  The big difference is that my family came to America and her family stayed behind.  And when you hear stories of the awful Soviet Regime — it’s pretty clear why Sophia is a Republican today.

I find the differences in our mothers quite interesting.  It makes me think of the old nature or nurture argument.   Can one generation in different countries really make that big of a difference? 

My mother is so "American" in her likes and dislikes.  Sophia’s mother is so "Russian."  Although both are Jewish and have roots in the same area of Eastern Europe, they’re completely different culturally. 

Maybe this means nurture is more important than nature.   Where you grow up really does "make the man." I know some people leave the big city when they have children, so they can grow up in a "better environment."  But are the suburbs really a better environment?  Does growing up in Los Angeles make you a vain narcissist, more so than growing up in Kansas? 

On some level, I think these cultural differences are disappearing.  Anyone in the country can get cable or read any book just by ordering it on Amazon.   I read blogs from people all over the place, and bloggers from New York or Boston don’t necessarily write anything more intellectual or compelling than someone from a small town.  I guess anyone can read the New York Times online.

I know being Jewish is also part of my identity.  American Jews, including myself, are always trying to draw the right line between being American and keeping in touch with their heritage.    I’m pretty secular so I have an easier time than those who keep kosher.   But keeping connected with your group is not something only Jews do.  I see it blacks, Asians, even French-born people living in the States.  I don’t see anything wrong with it.  Life would be pretty boring if all the world was the same, all eating the same Big Macs.  It would be like living in Orange County.

Sometimes I’m not sure how "Jewish" I am.   I have a couple of readers who are "Jewish bloggers."  I recently asked one of them, "What makes your blog so Jewish?  You hardly write about anything Jewish."

"Aren’t you a Jewish blogger?"

"Not really."

"Sure you are.  You write more about Jewish things than other Jewish bloggers."

"I also write about my penis and I’m not  "a Penis blogger."

Maybe I just don’t want to be categorized. 

Last weekend, I was trying to categorize my blogroll.  First, I separated everyone by gender — but it was embarrassing that I had so many more women than men.  Then, I started separating everyone geographically, but I got stuck figuring out where to put Leesa (Montana) and I wasn’t sure if Brooke (in Florida) was "East Coast" or "South."  Next, I thought of arranging everyone by "personality type" — humorous, poetic, dramatic, spicy, etc.   But I had a feeling that many of you would hate being categorized with one word, like casting directors do with actors:

"Bring me the funny-looking one!"

I know I hate being categorized.    I guess I’m a Jewish blogger.   A Penis blogger.   A "talk about Sophia" a lot blogger.   Do you categorize your own blog? 

If someone asked you to describe your content, could you?

UPDATE:   Terrific short film at Sundance 2006 which explores some of the issues of being Jewish in America.  It is called "The Tribe," and it has a very clever twist — it humorously  tells the history of both the Barbie doll (created by a Jewish mother) and the Jewish people – from Biblical times to present day.    You can watch it here.   Thanks, Hanan at Grow a Brain, for the link. 

Time to Ruin Another Christian Holiday!

January 23, 2006 / / 24 Comments

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Dear Fellow Congregants of Temple Beit Blogosphere,

Shalom!

May I commend you on the excellent work you did last month.  Getting Walmart to say "Happy Holidays" rather than "Merry Christmas" was a real coup!  We even got Bill O’Reilly’s attention, and he ended up promoting it endlessly. 

Did you know that one of Bill O’Reilly’s producers is Jewish?  What a shonda!  Let’s not even bring up that Jack Abramoff.  Never trust an Orthodox Jew who spends too much time at an Indian casino.

Anyway, the Temple Sisterhood is already making plans for next year’s big Holiday controversy.  Imagine what FOX News will say when we suggest changing the title of the traditional carol "Silent Night, Holy Night" to "Silent Night, Ho Ho Ho Night."  so it is less "religiously Christian."  Ooh, boy, that’s going to be a good one!  You’ll all be receiving your memos in the mail some time in September.

As you know, the next big Christian holiday is Easter.  Normally, here in America, we don’t get much bothered by Easter.   After all, we have Passover, and most of us would rather eat some good gefilte fish than an Easter ham.   In fact, I’m sure if Jesus was here himself, he’d be chugging down the Manischewitz at a seder with the rest of us. 

However, things might be different this Easter.  According to the Washington Post, trouble is brewing in Easter-land, and it has nothing to do with wearing bonnets:

Three months before the annual Easter egg roll at the White House, the usually festive event is already taking on a divisive edge because of plans by gay- and lesbian-led families to turn out en masse in hopes of raising their public profile.

Conservative groups are up at arms at the thought of thousands of gays and lesbians coming with their children to participate in the annual White House  "egg roll.".

"It’s improper to use the egg roll for political purposes," said Mark Tooley of the conservative Institute on Religion and Democracy.

Now, most Jews only know one "egg roll," and it goes best with a little spicy Chinese mustard.  But maybe it’s time for us to take a little political action of our own.  Why shouldn’t our children have the simcha of going to the White House and playing on the front lawn with all the Christian kids?  

Of course we want our "little bundles of joy" to maintain their Jewish identity at this event.  That’s why Danny Lebowitz of the Temple Men’s Club had the wonderful idea of providing each Jewish child with his or her own matzoh ball to roll on the White House lawn. 

What a great country this is where Christian children and Jewish children can play side by side, rolling their eggs and matzoh balls side by side! 

Take that, Bill O’Reilly!

Rabbi Neilochka Kramer

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Sorry, Jews: My First Retraction (Sort of)

December 14, 2005 / / 48 Comments

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After receiving numerous angry emails from fellow Jews, I feel a little bit like Philip Roth after writing about Jews masturbating in "Goodbye Columbus."  So, like a Supreme Court nominee, I feel it is important to clarify myself after writing my last post.

1)  I’m not really tired of other Jews.  I love Jews.  Sophia is Jewish.  My mother is Jewish.  Brooke, my long-time fantasy woman is Jewish, although she has yet to date a Jewish man.  Time will tell.

2)  I think Akaky had it right when he commented:

"Take advantage of your new ethnic hipness before the focus shifts to Armenians or Eskimoes or dyslexic Dravidian dwarves and being Jewish becomes so yesterday’s news."

Sophia, who loved the post, still said, "Neil, you are the schmendrik.  Better to be trendy and loved than hated, chased by Cossacks or Muslim fanatics."

3)  I actually think it is good that Walmart has its employees say "Happy Holidays" to its customers.  I don’t really want anyone saying "Merry Christmas" to me.  But if they do, I won’t drop dead on the spot.  But does it hurt you Christians so much to say, "Happy Holidays?"  We appreciate it.    Believe me, saying "Happy Holidays" isn’t the reason that Christmas has become such an overly commercialized, irreligious farce of a holiday.  Blame the retailers like Macy’s and the Gap and FAO Schwartz, all owned by…. uh, let’s move on…

4)  Recently I was quoted on this site.  It pretty much says what I believe:

Frankly, I think one of the things that makes our country so great is that the majority religion has tried so hard to make minorities feel comfortable. Where else have Jews and others been made to feel as equals and as comfortable with Christian holidays? Certainly not in many European countries where you are considered Jewish first, then a citizen of that country.

New York is not the rest of the country. I think it would be nice to bring back some of the religiosity to Christmas in big cities, so it isn’t such a consumerized holiday. Thank you, Christians, for being so good to the rest of us. You can now celebrate Christmas a little more openly.

However, things are different in smaller cities and towns around the country. Those places have a habit of mixing up religion and public policy. It is places like those where I don’t think it appropriate for the public sector to promote religion symbolism and ideology.

I think it is perfectly fine to have your friends and co-workers wish you a "Merry Christmas."  What’s the big deal?   But a "public" store like Walmart isn’t really the place  for religious exclusiveness.  And is Christmas in such trouble that it needs Walmart to save it? 

5)  I’m not into political correctness, but that doesn’t mean everyone should act like an asshole.  Unlike whatever Bill O’Reilly feels, I’m all for going all out with trying to respect minorities.  Christmas is not "under siege."  Look outside your window.  Christmas decorations were up five minutes after Thanksgiving.  Talk about shoving it in people’s face.  Sorry, but you’re the fucking majority and it’s up to you to be nice.  When the world is taken over by the billions of Chinese — and it will happen — let’s hope they respect us Americans as the minority.  (see Planet of the Apes for an example of what happens when the tables are turned).  Isn’t the whole point of the Judeo-Christian ethos to do unto others…

6)  Attacking political correctness has become so rampant that I firmly believe the MOST politically incorrect thing to do today is to defend it.  I had a long email conversation with Anne about whether Sarah Silverman is funny.  We both agree that she is.  But she is a professional comedian with a clever wit.  My fear is that every asshole will now think it is cool to tell slavery and Holocaust jokes at the dinner table and think they are the best thing since sliced challah.  I have a fear that everyone will laugh, not wanting to appear unhip, and the one who says that it isn’t funny will appear like a stick-in-the-mud. 

Sometimes, a little political correctness — when it doesn’t become the ruling party itself — can be good.

It’s weird that I use Bill O’Reilly and Sarah Silverman in the same sentence, but they are both talented entertainers making big money by saying outlandish things for people to blog about.   But in the real world, it is nice for people to say "Happy Holidays" and wrong to make racist jokes.  

Of course, as a high-paid blogger, I include myself as someone who can say whatever he wants without consequence.

7)  And finally, I’d like to apologize publicly to big-time blogger Andrew Krukoff.  I’m still not sure who you are, but congratulations on becoming a man.

Today on Blogebrity:  How to Tell if Your Cowboy is Gay  (about not only but also)

LL Cool Jew

December 13, 2005 / / 71 Comments

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I’m so tired of other Jews.    When did being Jewish become the "in" thing?    Moronic Hollywood actors going to Kabbalah classes.  Front page articles in New York magazine about Jews being smart  (I dealt with that subject months before them and much better, I might add).    Today I was reading Michelle’s funny NY blog and learned that she is going to be one of those talking heads on a VH1 special titled "So Jewtastic!"  That’s great for her and I wish her all the best, but this show’s concept was already making me feel ill.

From the VH1 website:

From Dylan’s anthems to Spielberg’s blockbusters, it’s no secret that Jews have made huge contributions to pop culture. They’ve succeeded in spite of age-old stereotypes about Jews as brainy, neurotic, and well, anything but hip.

But that’s all changing. In an age when Madonna demands to be called "Esther," Demi celebrates Purim and seemingly everyone speaks a little Yiddish, it’s never been hipper to be a Jew. All Access Presents: So Jewtastic celebrates everything you knew – and lots of stuff you didn’t – about famous members of the Tribe.

The one-hour show will cover the trendy rise of Kabbalah, the new hip Jews in Hollywood, the marriage of Jews and hip hop, the connection between Jews and Heavy Metal and the domination of Jews in comedy. As a bonus, Jackie Mason schools the goyim on Yiddish terms that rock. OY GEVALT!

Thanks to a mensch-laden panel of pundits, yentas and a Rabbi or two, So Jewtastic will also circumcise the old ideas about Jewish mothers, ridiculous stereotypes and whether or not Jews know how to play sports (they do!) So put down that gefilte fish and pop open some Manischewitz, it’s time to get your Jew on…VH1 style.

Whoever wrote that has a lot to atone for next Yom Kippur.

As if this wasn’t enough, a few minutes later I’m reading about big-time blogger Andrew Krucoff and how he’s in Israel and he’s never had a bar mitzvah, and now he’s going to have one sponsored by the porno-loving shmata king, Dov Charney of American Apparel. Now, frankly, I didn’t know much about big-time blogger Andrew Krucoff until I wrote a post about big-time blogger Stephanie Klein.  Bloggers-in-the-know told me that Andrew Krucoff was even bigger than Stephanie Klein.  Now as much as everyone hated Stephanie Klein, at least she wrote some interesting posts.  What the hell does this Krucoff do that makes him such a big-shot?    Here’s his latest blog.   As my mother might say, "Nu?"  This guy must be some shmoozer.

I’m just sick of this whole Jews-are-trendy thing.  It used to be that I would use a Yiddish phrase and only other Jews would get it.  Now, the Korean owner of my local donut shop tells me her husband is a shmendrick.   I’ve been so frustrated with my people lately, that I even thought of converting, but then Sophia told me that Larry David already did that in the last "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode. 

Fucking trendy Jews!

Listen, everyone knows that Chanukah sucks compared to Christmas.  Why continue with the facade of Chanukah being cool because Adam Sandler wrote one fucking song about it?  Why can’t I love Rudolph and Frosty and the Grinch — all of the traditional Christmas stuff.    When Rudolph saves the day with his shiny nose — that’s the true meaning of Christmas.

After reading all about these trendy Jews, I felt starved for some Christmas spirit.  Since I live in a fairly Jewish neighborhood, it wasn’t easy.  I decided to go to the most Christian place I could think of in Los Angeles — Walmart.   As I pulled into their enormous parking lot, images of Christmas lights and Christmas trees and Christmas fruitcakes danced in my head.

"Happy Holidays!" said the greeter, a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair. 

"Happy Holidays?" I asked.  "Don’t you mean "Merry Christmas?"

"Shhh.  We’re not allowed to say that anymore.  Only "Happy Holidays."

"That’s weird.  I came here especially because I figured Walmart would be… real goyish…"

"Goyish… ha ha.  I heard Seinfeld once say that in that episode with the puffy shirt.   By the way, did you see "Curb Your Enthusiasm" last night.  That Larry David… what a shmendrick. "

"Can I speak to a manager?  I really want someone to say "Merry Christmas" to me."

"I’m sorry.  We don’t want to insult any of our customers who may be of another faith.  Like our Jewish friends."

"I’m Jewish."

"Welcome, Jewish friend.  Welcome to Walmart.  The Tony Hawk Chanukah dreidels are in aisle five, in between the Sarah Silverman menorah set and the "Story of the Maccabees," as read by Dame Jew-dy Densch."

"I don’t want any of that crap.   I’m not here for Chanukah."

‘Well, Happy Holidays whatever your celebration."

"I’m here for Christmas."

"Shhh…"

"What’s the matter with mentioning Christmas?"

"I thought you were Jewish."

"I am Jewish!"

"Isn’t it cool to be Jewish?"

Oy!  It used to be the blacks, then the gays, now the Jews…. enough!  Enough of trendy!  I want some of that homey Christmas stuff.   Like in Norman Rockwell.  Or on that Charlie Brown special"

"I hear you, young man."

I turned and saw a giant of a man.  He had a white beard.  His voice was deep, reminiscent of Burl Ives.  He wore a Hawaiian shirt and an enormous crucifix around his neck.

"Let’s bring back Christ into Christmas," he bellowed.  "Everyone come here!  This young man has something important to say to us all!"

Shoppers — men, women, children — all gathered around me. 

"It’s all very nice that you want to include everyone in your "Happy Holidays…" I said, my voice cracking, "…but if you really want to say "Merry Christmas," I don’t really see anything wrong with that."

"You hear that?!" shouted the crucifix guy.  "He’s absolutely right.  Why should we be afraid of celebrating Christmas?   How did this happen?  I say, they’ve been holding us back from saying "Merry Christmas."  It’s the Jews.  The Jews I tell ya!  First they kill our Savior, then they spy on America for Israel, and now they want to steal away our holiday!  Well, we won’t let them — will we?!"

"Uh… I didn’t exactly mean…" I stammered.

A pregnant customer stood on the "Customer Service" desk, waving wildly.

"Let’s march on Temple Beth Am!"

The mob grew excited with shouts of "Yeah," "Let’s do it!" and "Stop Those Shmendricks!"

The middle-aged Walmart greeter in the wheelchair stood up.  It was like a miracle happening before our eyes.

"Let’s go tell the Jews what we think!" she screamed.

Everyone in Walmart started chanting. 

"We love Jesus!  We love Jesus!  We love Jesus!"

Within minutes, the store was emptied of everyone except for myself, which wasn’t so bad, because I don’t really like crowded stores.

Was I worried about Temple Beth Am?  Not really.  Los Angeles crowds are notorious for giving up early, such as leaving Dodger games in the sixth inning.  The temple was pretty far away, and with all the traffic, I’m sure they just ended up dispersing and going to Starbucks instead. 

But I was disturbed, and frankly irritated, at the mob’s total devotion to Jesus. 

Because if you think about it:  What is Jesus — but another trendy Jew?!

(UPDATE — with a bit of a wimpy retraction.)

Stars of David (or My Mother Will Find This Funny)

November 3, 2005 / / 73 Comments

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On Wednesday, November 15, 2005, the 92nd St. Y, one of the premier cultural institutions of New York, presents a special program titled "Stars of David" — Jason Alexander, Leonard Nimoy and Kyra Sedgwick:  Prominent Jews Talk About Being Jewish.

Jason Alexander, Leonard Nimoy and Kyra Sedgwick:  Prominent Jews Talk About Being Jewish.  The "Stars of David," some of America’s most prominent Jews talk about their Jewish identity (or lack of one) and reveal how they became who they are today. Jason Alexander played George Costanza in Seinfeld. Leonard Nimoy, most famous as Mr. Spock in Star Trek, directed Three Men and a Baby and The Good Mother. Kyra Sedgwick is known for her film roles in Born on the Fourth of July and Something to Talk About and stars in TNT’s Closer. Celebrity guests subject to change.

As one of the premier Jewish bloggers in the Blogosphere,  Citizen of the Month was invited to sit down and have a pre-program discussion with the three prominent Jewish celebrities.

Neil:  Hello, all.

Leonard, Jason, and Kyra:  Hello, Neilochka.

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Neil:  Let me start with you, Leonard.  What was it like playing Spock, the only Jew on the Starship Enterprise?

Leonard:  Spock was a Vulcan, not Jewish.

Neil:  I always heard that the Vulcan hand sign was a Jewish thing?

Leonard:  It’s actually based on a special priestly blessing gesture I once say in temple with my father…

Neil:  Interesting.  So, what was it like being the only Jewish actor on the set?

Leonard:  Actually, William Shatner is Jewish.  Every year on Passover, I throw this celebrity seder and…

Neil:  Is Chekhov Jewish?

Leonard:  Yes, Walter Koening is…

Neil:  Thank God he wasn’t a Russian Russian.  They’re a bunch of anti-Semites. 

Leonard:  Walter is not really…

Neil:  I was wondering about this recently — do you think there will be anti-Semitism in space?  Wherever we go, there always seems to be.  With our luck, the Jews will be blamed for every meteor shower.

Leonard:  I don’t know, but like I was saying, every Passover at my celebrity seder, Bill and I…

Neil:  Bill doesn’t really use Priceline, does he?  Because it just feeds into that "Jews are cheap" thing.

Jason:  Excuse me, Neil, if I can step in for a sec.   I really think we should focus more on the positive issues of Jewish identity.

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Neil:  Yes, yes, thank you, Jason.  Actually, I was always wondering, was George Costanza Jewish?

Jason:  Well, Larry and Jerry never really specified…

Neil:  But they’re both Jewish, right?

Jason:  Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld are both Jewish, yes.

Neil:  So, why didn’t they specify that George was Jewish?

Jason:  I think NBC was too worried that the show was too Jewish.

Neil:  I see.  I guess Jerry was Jewish.  And Elaine was Jewish.

Jason:  No, Elaine was Catholic.

Neil:  Yeah, right.  Elaine was like totally Jewish.

Jason:  In the show, she was supposed to be Catholic.

Neil:  Sure.  But you know and I know that she was really Jewish.   (to Leonard)  Just like we all know that Sulu was always gay.  Right, Leonard?  You could see it in the way he held his phaser.

Leonard:  Actually, I didn’t know about him.  But I have this very funny story where one Passover, George Takei came over to my celebrity seder and he never had gefilte fish before and…

Jason:  I throw a celebrity seder, too.  A lot of Jerry’s friends come over.  Comedians.  You should hear Bob Saget read the Four Questions!  Kyra, you were once at my celebrity seder, right?

Kyra:  Yes, I was, Jason.  It was a wonderful celebrity seder.

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Neil:  Kyra, I had no idea you were Jewish.

Kyra:  I am.

Neil:  You have one of the most recognizable faces in Hollywood.  But remind me again, what have you been in?

Kyra:  I’ve been in many films, including…

Neil:  But basically, you’ve most famous for being Kevin Bacon’s wife?

Kyra:  Well, maybe is some circles, but I’ve also…

Neil:  Don’t you find it ironic that someone Jewish marries someone named Bacon?

Kyra:  I think that comment is a little rude.  Kevin deeply respects the Jewish people.

Jason:  Kevin attended my celebrity seder, also.

Leonard:  Your little shindig sounds very nice, Jason, but my celebrity seder recently got a write-up in Los Angeles magazine where they called it the A-list celebrity seder.

Jason starts laughing.

Leonard:  What’s so funny?

Jason:  I’m sorry, Leonard, but George Hamilton is just not A-list any more.

Leonard:  Listen, shmendrick, how kosher are those KFC drumsticks you hawk?

Jason:  At least I’m not a pervert.  I’ve seen those sick photos you call art of naked Jewish women wearing prayer shawls.

Leonard:  My photos have been displayed in museums, you shlemazel! 

Jason:  Do you know who you’re talking to?  I’m friends with Jerry Seinfeld!  Jerry Seinfeld!

Leonard:  Like I’m scared of your scrawny nebbish friend.  And, by the way, how many failed sitcoms are you going to be in before you realize that you’ll always be George Costanza.  And he wasn’t even Jewish!

Jason and Leonard stand, ready for a fight.  Kyra runs in between them.

Kyra:  Men!  Men!  Please!  We’re all mishpocha here!

Jason:  How would you like a Vulcan hand sign in your eyes, Nimoy?

Leonard:  Your last sitcom was awful, you little pisher!  Awful!

Jason:  I spit on you, you alter kakher.  I spit on your celebrity seder!

Leonard picks up a chair, threatening Jason.

Leonard:  I’m going to break your head in half, like the afikomen!

Jason:  (in Galican Yiddish)  Sie haut gevain a courva in de momma’ s bouch.

Leonard: (in Lithuanian Yiddish)  Shainera menchen haut me gelicht in drert.

Jason wrestles Leonard to the ground and they start fighting.  Kyra runs away screaming.

Kyra:  Kevin, Kevin, help me.  A farbisener and a kvetch.  Get me away from these crazy Jews! 

Neil:  (to you, my dear readers)  Remember  —  Wednesday, November 15, 2005, the 92nd St. Y — "Stars of David" — Jason Alexander, Leonard Nimoy and Kyra Sedgwick:  Prominent Jews Talk About Being Jewish.

My Mother is a Giving Person

November 2, 2005 / / 51 Comments

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Nick Douglas of Blogebrity’s kind mention of my mother made me think about how wonderful my mother is as a person.  She is probably the most giving person I know.

Maybe too giving. 

Mom, this is for you.

 

My Mother is a Giving Person
A Post in Three Chapters
by Neil Kramer

Chapter 1

My Mother Gives Away a Sweater

My mother owns an ugly plaid sweater.   When Sophia and I were in New York last month, Sophia politely told my mother that the sweater was nice.  When we returned back to Los Angeles, we discovered the god-awful sweater sitting in Sophia’s suitcase.  Sophia called my mother and asked why.

My mother answered, “Because you liked it so much.”

Chapter 2

My Mother Gives Away a Noodle Kugel

When we were sitting shiva for my father, people were supposed to follow the tradition of bringing food to the mourners.  Instead, we had constant guests and my mother was serving them.

The very sweet Adele Horowiz from Apartment 4D brought down some cookies for the guests and a “special” noodle kugel for us.   Sophia and I each had a piece and it was the best thing we ever ate.  We went downstairs to pick up some more soda for the visitors.  We then returned, eager for another piece of the kugel.  But when we walked in, we saw five new visitors, and my mother was serving them all OUR KUGEL.

Sophia and I surrounded my mother in the kitchen.  .

“What are you doing?” asked Sophia.  “That noodle kugel was for us, not them!”

“It was so good,” answered my mother.   “I wanted them to try it.”

I pointed to a huge pile of cakes, cookies, and candy sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Give them some of this crap!” I said.  “Not Adele Horowitz’s homemade noodle kugel!”

“That’s right,” added Sophia.  “We’re the mourners.  We deserve the kugel!”

I sniffed the air.  It smelled like kugel.

“I can still smell how good it is.”

Sophia peeked into the living room.

“You better keep on smelling.  Because I think your guests are finishing the last piece.”

Chapter 3

My Mother Gives Away My House in Malibu

A funeral, like a wedding, is a place to you see relatives you never see otherwise.  When we were sitting shiva, my cousin, Brian, came to visit.  He is twelve years younger than me.  He lives in upstate New York and I’ve seen him twice in my life.

While my mother talked with some visitors, Brian and I went into my room to talk and get to know each other better.  I  was flattered when I learned that I was a major influence on his life. 

“When I was little, you and your parents took me to my first Star Wars movie.  Remember?  You had these little R2D2 wind-up toys.  And your mother gave me one.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.” I said, not really remembering these toys at all.  “That’s great, just great.”

He told me that after the movie, Star Wars became the center of his life.  He saw every movie and became a major collector of Star Wars memorabilia.  He said he made a good amount of money buying and selling these collectibles on Ebay. 

“I’m glad I got you started!” I said, laughing.

“Oh, I’ve had even better luck with your comic books and baseball cards,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly confused.

“Didn’t you know?  I once came visiting when you were in college.  Your mother gave me all of your comic books and baseball cards.”

“She did?”

I always wondered what happened to my comics and baseball cards.  Unlike my father, who kept every receipt since 1950, my mother threw out everything.  I always assumed my mother tossed out my childhood stuff when she cleaned out my closet.

“You had this one Archie comic…” Brian said, taking out an imaginary comic book and lovingly opening a page, “…that was in such excellent condition — I was able to sell it for $75!”

“$75?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve sold quite a few of the comic books and some of the baseball cards.  But I’m definitely holding on to that Roberto Clemente.”

“I had a Roberto Clemente?!”

“Oh, yeah.  Mint condition.”

“What else did my mother give you?”

“Well, I’ve added a lot to my Matchbox car collection…”

“I thought they were still in the closet.”

“No, I combined our collections and won some contest for ‘America’s Best Matchbox Car Collection.’  I got $5000 from the Mattel Company.”

“I loved my Matchbox collection.”

“They’re fun.  But they’re not worth as much as that Lionel train set you had.”

“My train set?”

“Your mother said you only used it once.  It wasn’t easy getting it into my Honda Civic”

“I completely forgot I had a train set.”

“That’s what your mother said.  She said you called it “boring'”

“It was boring.  Who wants to watch a train go round and round?”

“I think it’s boring also, but trust me, there are A LOT of collectors out there who don’t.  It did really well on Ebay when I sold it for… well, let’s just say it did VERY VERY well…”

“What do you do for a living?  I mean, besides selling my old stuff on Ebay?”

“I used to do sales for a lighting company, but I quit because I was making so much money with…”

“MOM!” 

I yelled it like I did when I was ten years old and wanted to rat on someone.

“MOM!”

“What?”  she called out from the kitchen.

“Mom, come here!”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to my my grieving mother.   All I could think about was the house in Malibu I could have bought with the money from my old baseball cards.

My mother entered.

“Did you call?”

She was carrying a plate of food, wrapped in aluminum foil.

“Oh,  hi, Brian.   There you are.  I was just saving you a piece of this delicious noodle kugel to take home.”

Heaven or Hell

October 17, 2005 / / 52 Comments

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(artwork by Rob Stinogle)

I’m sitting in my local coffee shop and I see that they have some Halloween decorations up already, including a paper cut-out ghost.   

It makes me think of my father, who passed away a few weeks ago.

Not in a scary or eerie way.  If he were to become a ghost, he wouldn’t be a scary one.  He might be a nagging ghost, but not a scary one.   

Whatever.

The paper ghost makes me think about the spirit world and whether it really exists.

I should start out by saying that I don’t really believe in ghosts or spirits or even souls.  I have a pretty scientific outlook on life.  It’s very nice when people say to me that "your father is looking down on you."  I smile and appreciate their kind words.  But I don’t buy it.  To me, believing that is akin to teaching Creationism in school.

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One thing I realize is that most of my images of heaven and hell are colored by Christian thought.  You know, Angels with Wings vs. Dante’s Inferno.  

I think Judaism cleverly plays it dumb by not offering a very clear picture of the afterlife.   Maybe that’s why it’s traditional to rush the body into burial:  so nobody asks the rabbi any tough questions.  
 
Are there any knowledgeable Jews out there who can paint a clear picture of the Jewish afterlife?  What is a Jewish heaven?  Is there a Jewish hell?  Or is the Jewish hell being stuck in heaven for eternity with all of your relatives?

The traditional heaven/hell split is completely unappealing to me.  In Hell, there is suffering and pain — so there must be some sort of sensory feeling.  So, why not some sensory feeling in heaven?   Angels just seem to fly back and forth like Jet Blue flights between JFK and Long Beach.  Without the body, there’s no food, dancing, or sex — all the good stuff.

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Who the hell wants to go to heaven?  It sounds more dull than a vacation in Albuquerque.

Sure, your soul is still there.  You can think and ponder great thoughts.   Oh great, it sounds just like being in fucking grad school again.  Who wants that?  And do you at least  get weekends off to go to some keg parties in Hell?  That’s probably where all the hot girls end up anyway.

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OK, back to my father.  I guess I’m just like other Jews throughout history — avoiding the afterlife issue by talking about all sorts of other things.  How do you think Jews became such good lawyers?

Hi, Dad.  (that is, if they let you read blogs up there.  But wait a minute, you don’t know how to use a computer.  Mom always printed it out for you at work.   And I’m assuming they all have Macs in heaven, right?)  

C’mon, God.  Loosen up a bit.  Don’t make heaven such a drag.  Give the deceased some fun.  I know I’m going to be depressed when I go  — no more pizza, naked women, or reruns of "The Jeffersons." 

And those heavenly robes — I do not look good in white.

The Sins of our Bloggers

October 12, 2005 / / 60 Comments

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Tonight begins Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar.  It is the day where you fast and ask God for forgiveness for the sins of the previous year and "the book" is officially closed on the old year.  The central Yom Kippur prayer is a recitation of a long list of sins — things like stealing, gossip, murder, etc.  Everyone asks for forgiveness as a community for each of the sins, even if you didn’t do any of them.

Over the last couple of months, I’ve really appreciated the community of bloggers.  But no group is perfect.  We have our own sins. 

Say with me:

We have used false names for ourselves.

We have gossiped about celebrities.

We have spread lies about politicians.

We have insinuated things about Tom Cruise’s sexual orientation and sanity.

We have envied other bloggers who have book deals and large readerships.

We have had sexual fantasies about other bloggers.

We have spend two hours on the Boobie-thon web site trying to find a blogger’s breasts.

We have googled a blogger, trying to find her real name.

We have added a popular site to our blogroll just to look cool.

We have deleted a site from our blogroll because he wrote something stupid.

We have been vain and searched our stats 20 times a day.

We have commented on our own site, writing "Best.  Post.  Ever."

We have stretched the truth on our posts.

We have plagiarized someone else’s good idea.

We have failed to do the "meme" that we were "tagged" for.

We have written a comment to someone and then realized it was the wrong person.

We have spend more time writing on the blogs on of the opposite sex than that of our own gender.

We have written something encouraging to someone when we really wanted to say, "Buy yourself some Prozac already!"

We have written a comment on someone’s blog that was more about ourselves than the person’s topic.

We have written a comment that stops the flow of the conversation dead.

We have cursed Blogger’s new spam verification.

We have spammed.

We have argued with other bloggers.

We have insulted other bloggers.

We have written too much about Lindsay Lohan.

We have kept our blogs hidden from loved ones.

We have not kept our blogs hidden from loved ones.

We have neglected our families and work to blog.

Man in the Mirror

October 2, 2005 / / 48 Comments

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Every Friday night, a group of Jewish men meet in the apartment building I grew up in and greet the Sabbath.  Most of the men are older or find it difficult to travel to a temple.  Traditionally, you need ten men to form a “minyan,” the group that prays together.  In Judaism, praying in a group during Shabbat is considered more important than praying alone (sorry ladies, traditional Judaism doesn’t count women as part of the minyan). 

I’m not very religious and don’t go to temple very often, but I was honored to be asked to join the minyan for the night.  The leader of the group said it would be a good opportunity for me to say “Kaddish,” the traditional prayer said for the deceased.   I can read Hebrew and know the prayer, but I’ve never stood in front of a group of religious men and said Kaddish out loud in honor of my father.  It was an experience as powerful as my bar mitzvah.   The ancient text praising G-d really leapt off the page for me.  During the service, Kaddish is said three times.  During the first time, my voice was uncertain and croaky, so the leader said the prayer along with me.  But by the last reading, I found my confidence and read it in a strong voice.

When I returned to my apartment, I felt nervous energy coming from my mother and Sophia.  My mother was going through a pile of my father’s paperwork.    He was a real “paper saver” who kept bills and receipts from decades ago.   I showed my mother how to use the shredder I bought my father last year, something he never even plugged in.

Sophia was involved in another matter – our trip home.  When we learned that those so-called “bereavement fares” were a joke (and cost more than the regular fares), we used our American Airlines frequent flier miles to come to New York.    Earlier that day, we learned that if we wanted to, we could make a multi-day stopover anywhere in the continental U.S. on the way back.   Sophia said we could use a few days of rest after the last few weeks of stress and sorrow.  We asked my mother to come along wherever we went, but she wanted to go back to work.   I went through my list of bloggers, thinking whom to visit, but we decided on Albuquerque because I saw that they are having a world-famous International Balloon Festival next week.   We booked the flight, but then we realized the most of the hotels were already filled.  So, when I came back from services, Sophia was all frustrated from trying to find a hotel.   She asked for my help, but I told her I was exhausted.   The week’s tensions were finally hitting me.  Until now, we had all been too busy to feel tired.   From the minute we arrived in New York, it’s been visits to the hospital, arranging for the funeral, and sitting shiva.  I felt my body collapsing and went to my parents’ room and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up in the same bed.  Sophia was sleeping next to me.  My mother was asleep in the living room.   It was pretty early in the morning, but the New York City Sanitation trucks were already rolling outside.   I had a morning hard-on.   I moved against Sophia and she told me to get lost.  “We’re separated, remember?”  Besides, she was up half the night looking for hotels in Albuquerque and was upset that I woke her up.   I went to take a shower.

I turned on the water and stepped inside the shower stall.  It was nice to feel the water against my back.  I’d been so tense.  Still hard, I started playing with myself.   I looked down at my penis and laughed — I remembered being in the exact same spot doing the exact same thing when I was fifteen years old.   Maybe I was just too tired from the last two weeks, but for some reason, after a few minutes, I lost interest in what I was doing.  That would never have happened to me when I was fifteen.

I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off.    Through the closed door, I could hear that my mother was now up.    I could hear the grinding of the shredder ripping up my father’s receipts from 1995.  I could hear that Sophia was now awake also.  I could hear her watching the “Alias” episode that she had taped on my my mother’s ancient VCR.   Well, for a minute, at least.  Then I could hear her telling my mother off for switching channels and taping a Food Channel show and the cable menu instead.

With my cock still up, I couldn’t leave the bathroom… just yet.  I wiped the “fog” from the bathroom mirror and looked at myself standing there.    While we were sitting shiva, we had covered all the mirrors — as is traditional.  Now that the mourning period was over, was my father looking down at me now from heaven?   Do I even believe in that stuff?  And if he is, couldn’t the same be said for my Grandma and my late Aunt Ruthie?  Jeez, are all of my deceased relatives seeing me now with an erection?  How embarrassing. 

But It didn’t seem weird at all to think of my father as I looked at my penis.  After all, the male circumcision is what bonds the Jewish male to the Jewish people.   I remember when I was a little kid, I used to take a shower with my father.  I remember looking forward to the day when I could have hair on my chest and a man’s penis hanging there, not a boy’s penis.  Suddenly, it occurred to me that, as the only son, I’m now the “man of the family.”  But what does that mean?   My father was so much more of a “man” when he was my age.  He had a steady job, a steady marriage, and a son. 

“You have none of these.” I thought I heard my penis say to me.

“You’re right,” I said.   

"You know it’s Rosh Hashana in a few days," my penis continued.

"I do."

"The Jewish New Year is the ideal time to make changes in your life.   You can start to become the man you want to be."

My wants as a man have so far been pretty simple so far:  good Chinese food, the open thighs of a woman, and a subscription to HBO.   Maybe it was time to become as accomplished a man as my father.  To know what it actually means to be a man.

"You stood up and said Kaddish at the minyan.  That’s a good start." said my penis, being encouraging. 

"Thank you," I told my friend.

Sophia knocked on the door.

“Hurry up, Neilochka.  I need to use the bathroom.  And… who are you talking to anyway?”

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