Ponce Upon A Time

Oh what a night! (It was more than an Afternoon Delight!)

Rebecca Wax, Charlie Chasen, and all the volunteers that helped make Purim on Ponce a reality should be applauded for creating one of the funnest evenings in Jewish community history! This is what an adult Purim celebration should be like. People letting down their hair or putting more hair on (ahem, you Hooter Girls know who you are!). It was a great mix of people. Fun costumes--especially fabulous in my eyes was the brilliance of Carrie Hausman coming as my travel companion "Hashem-the Ugly Doll". The generosity of Owen was incredible as was the artists who created fabulous masks. And as good as the drag queens were our hometown talent was better! Our 3 divas put the can can in cantor!

Aptly, I went as the Abominable Snowman --or better yet as Yeti the Yente because in coming to Atlanta I braved an early drive to the airport (I was picked up at 4 am) when it had just begun to snow, which means no salt on the highways. On the way there, the van began to swerve from one lane to the next--skidding on the ice. One passenger began to curse uncontrollably at our driver, who was also freaking out. I suggested to the woman that we would be better off if we were all quiet since we were skidding for what felt quite awhile and cars were nearing up ahead that I was certain we were going to hit. She stopped cursing but began to repeat the words, "Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus, Oh JESUS!" When the van founds its wheels, the woman who could not keep quiet turned around and said, "I am so sorry. I don't know what got in to me. I don't even know why I was saying that name, I am Jewish!" Oy!

It was worth going through that to be there Saturday night. It was so wonderful to see folks and hear how people are doing. It was fun and relaxed. It made me realize that I have missed CBH and so many great CBHers. It was a nice feeling and I felt warm and fuzzy when Rabbi Steve Greenberg spoke to me about what an incredible community we have created here. He is right. I am always glad to be reminded that CBH is a special place. It just goes to show you that the American philosopher Dorothy Gale was right, "There's No Place Like Home!"

San Francisco Addendum

I neglected to include one of my favorite moments in SF. In some ways it was an interesting experience because it was completely random.

After walking all over SF, Brian and I were hungry. Somehow I managed to find a route back towards the hotel that was nearly devoid of open restaurants. I do not know how I did this. While I was happy that my powers of direction were good enough to get back to the hotel, our hope for finding a bite to eat was thwarted.

We made it back to Triton and decided to try the European cafe next to it. In the moments between dropping backpacks off in the room and going next door, it seemed like a tour bus let out a group of 100 tourists who were all waiting to be seated. Thwarted again, we walked around the corner and saw a plaine tiny soup and sandwich shop that advertised vegetarian soups.

We walked in and it was a half Mediterranean wrap store and half cookie store. Hungry enough we stayed and order wraps. When I asked for Tzatziki sauce instead of Tahina, the owner with far too much remorse told me he was out of it. No problem. As we waited, this man brought us free falafel, pita, and grape leaves.

One of the great things about Brian that we share is a genuine interest in people. His openness and friendly demeanor invite conversations with strangers so when we are together, we both end up striking up conversations with unique individuals.

We engaged the owner whose name we found out was Rezzel (sp?), an Iranian refugee. I could tell he was reluctant to say that he was Iranian at first so I shared with him that I went to school with many Iranians/Persians and as a result I know my share of curse words in Farsi. He laughed and he insisted on teaching us a few clean words.

When hearing that Brian was living in Hawaii, he lit up as he too had lived in Hawaii for a handful of years in Waikiki, where Brian lives. They spoke about the challenges of fitting in and be accepted. He managed a Mrs. Fields cookie store there. He spoke about loving San Francisco because he felt like everyone was accepted and that being different was appreciated as long as you were accepting in response. He said he did not spend much time in the large SF Iranian community preferring to have a diverse group of friends.

We didn't press why he felt he had to leave Iran, I wondered if he might have been gay. He did recently spend some time in Turkey so he could visiti his family in Iran who were aging. We spoke about the beauty of Turkey and its rich cultural importance.

By the time we were leaving, he was practically offering us the store. We refused his offer of free cookies a number of times.

What a refreshing meeting! To meet someone so open and friendly who grew up in such a restrictive environment was nice. It constantly reminds me of the kinds of wonderful opportunities we have in the US to really learn about other cultures and backgrounds.

Rabbi Sheila Weinberg

Ahh Shabbat is coming. I have Shabbat dinner plans with David and Gregg (and their daughter Sasha)who are the co-editors of our book project. Which by the way, is looking like it is really shaping up! I am also packing for Atlanta and The Rainbow Center's Purim on Ponce fundraiser.

This afternoon I met with a small group of local rabbis who were welcoming one of my favorite teachers: Sheila Weinberg. Sheila is one of the faculty members of the Institute of Jewish Spirituality and has been a tremendous role model as a teacher and just as a kind soul. Two Reconstructionist congregations are hosting her as a scholar in residence in the area.

We studied two Hasidic texts. One that taught about how with each breath we are new creations. The second was a funny moment for me. It was a text written by R. Meshullam Feibush of Zhbariz. He is a Hasidic rebbe from Eastern Galicia who was a student of the Maggid of Mezrich. He taught the following:

Even if at the moment we are not able to pray with full reverence and love of God, our words of prayer can still rise up to the degree that we have fully connected ourselves to others saying, "I now take on myself to fulfill the positive commandment of 'Love your neighbor as yourself'". In that moment, we must bind ourselves with the bonds of love to the souls of all the righteous of our generation, particularly if we can imagine their faces, which will increase our capacity to make our thoughts and words one.


As I prepare for Shabbat, I am reminded of how I often ask people to envision the face of a loved one before L'chah Dodi. I wondered if it was a cheesy thing to do, but I love that there is this precedence. I also love what this text says about the importance of community in support of our worship.

Shabbat Shalom!

A San Francisco Treat!

Shortly after I returned from Asheville, I had a few days in Denver where finally the single digits had ended and the coldest January overall on the books was turning into a not-so-terrible February. Mind you there has been snow (as it will begin to snow tonight again) but it has been punctuated by days of 40, 50 degree weather and even one glorious 60 degree day.

For some strange reason, my hives that were diminishing returned with a vengeance leaving me polka dotted and streaked, not to mention very itchy and grumpy. I laid low in preparation for my trip to San Francisco.

I flew out last Thursday to meet Brian who flew in from Honolulu. It was funny, he was concerned about not having warm enough clothes and I was concerned that my clothes would be too warm. It is all a frame of reference. I was looking forward to what was forecast to be a glorious weekend-and SF did not disappoint.

We stayed at the Triton Hotel, which is a delightfully funky boutique hotel with brilliant colors, arresting patterns, adventurous fabrics and cookies served at 3pm (wine at 5p). The headboard, a zebra print matched the bathrobe! The hotel overlooked the China Gate--a perfect place to welcome the New Year. We welcomed in the year of the Fire Pig.

We spent our first day at MOMA SF which was free. They had some great photography exhibits, though 2 floors were closed due to new installations. We also walked around Chinatown looking for a Year of the Boar t-shirt. We had a delicious Chinese lunch after which I needed to nap since I had awoke at 4 am to catch the plane and my antihistamine was still flowing. Afterwards, I met one of Brian's best friends, Helisa Katz, who is a Jewish lesbian that is a sign interpreter and who specializes and is piloting new methods of working with deaf and hard of hearing infants. Meeting her with her delightfully frizzy Jewish coif and huge smile, one can instantly understand how perfect it is that she works with children. No doubt, they love her.

The next day was a little taste of spring. We explored Golden Gate Park and in its botanical gardens signs of spring were in bloom. Japanese magnolias and cherry blossoms were magnificent--as were the small yellow flowers on the expanses of lawn. Walking around the park was exhilarating. It was good to be with Brian. We hustled back to the hotel in order to see Beach Blanket Babylon--the longest running cabaret show. A lighthearted, big costumed, wacky musical review about Snow White's search for love amidst politics, pop culture and golden oldies. It is a San Francisco institution. We finished the evening off with dinner at the Stinking Rose- a garlic restaurant! Yummy! And Brian had gelatto of which I only had a taste. We had a leisurely mile walk back to the hotel.

The next day we explored the Castro-- who knew but it was an Internation Bear Convention. We spent some time at the Human Rights Campaign Store where I met Justin who has just moved to SF from Atlanta. We commiserated on the politics of GA which was the main reason he chose to leave. We walked around Dolores Mission Park and everyone was out on this stunningly beautiful and warm day. There was hardly any green left uncovered from the throngs of people. What a great sight!

That evening Helisa joined us as we went to see the world premiere of Legally Blond: The Musical. This serious piece of drama told of the harrowing and brave story of Elle Wood's journey to Harvard. Not! This pepto bismol of a music was anything but abysmal. Fun, light, fluffy and fast paced; it was an enjoyable piece of cotton candy theater with a bit (only a bit) more substance than the actual confection.

Sunday we battled the throngs of people in Chinatown as we took in the small festival for New Years. The major parade was taking place on March 3rd. Brian shopped for gifts to bring back to his office while I kept an eye open for my sister's birthday present. We walked all the way to Fisherman's Wharf to see the Sea Lions which were there usual lazy and antagonistic selves. On the way, we cheered on the bikers from the Tour de California. We topped off our evening in a Korean Karaoke house with private rooms where we met up with half a dozen of Brian and Helisa's friends. My rendition of YMCA brought everyone to their feet and tears to people's eyes. I guess my voice lessons are not paying off.

Monday--we shopped a tad more back in C-town and made our made to the airport. I kept scratching my head: "Why Denver? Why not San Francisco?" What a great city!

Graetz-ified

My timing was off. I had not fully recovered from my root canal, where my dentist was thorough but slow. They had me in the chair for over 3 hours with the root canal and the crown prep. By the end, I was wishing my mouth was wired shut. Also, I discovered that I did indeed have a penicillin allergy, which I was prescribed in preparation for the tooth drilling so I was covered in hives from head to toe.

So when I flew to Asheville less than 48 hours later, I was not feeling my best. Actually, I considered calling the Human Rights Campaign and canceling, but I didn’t. I flew Sunday AM into Charlotte and then on a prop plane to Asheville for a Safe Space conversation. I was one of three speakers to a group of clergy in the A’ville area that were in different stages of dealing with LGBT issues. Many of them were individually supportive but were unsure of how to broach these issues with their congregations.

I was told that there would be a straight couple speaking too: Robert and Jeannie Graetz. Robert was a Lutheran pastor and his wife was his partner in all his endeavors. When I arrived in Charlotte I saw an older white couple that looked like a very traditional Christian Midwestern couple. He wore a large cross and I wondered if this could be the Graetz’s but decided that as progressives no one would wear such a large cross. I was wrong.

We were picked up by another older couple the Hunts and I listened to Horace Hunt and Robert (Bob) talk. Bob mentioned he served for many years in Montgomery and Horace began to talk about bringing a group of students to M’gmery in the 50s and meeting a white Lutheran pastor of a black church. Sure enough, the only white Lutheran minister of a black church was Bob. They had met half a century ago.

Then I learned more about Bob and Jeannie’s extraordinary history! Bob and Jeannie were sent down to M’gmery to serve a Lutheran church only after promising that they would not start any trouble. Start was the operative word for them. Shortly after they arrived, the SCLC youth leader at their church was a woman (who became a close friend) by the name of Rosa Parks who refused to move from her seat. Faced with the decision to support the bus boycott that ensued, Bob said he prayed about it and came to the awareness that he could not be a good pastor if he was not involved in the actions of his parishioners. That Sunday he announced the boycott from the pulpit and told people he would be driving folks to and from work.

He and Jeannie were some of the few white faces involved in strategizing for civil rights. He worked with King, Abernathy, Rustin and other well known folks. Jeannie spoke of the three times their home was bombed and the numerous visits by the Klu Klux Klan. Bob spoke of one meeting where King said, “If you are not prepared to die for this cause please leave.” Bob said he realized that King was a target and so was he as the only white face amongst the leadership. I was riveted listening to their story.

When asked where their courage emerged, Jeannie spoke about how a good friend of theirs and someone supportive of the call to civil rights told them to leave because they would surely be killed. Their friend urged that they needed to leave just for the sake of their children. Jeannie said that nearly convinced her, but that night she asked another friend to come over and pray with her. This Methodist minister after praying responded that God was in Montgomery just as God was anywhere else and that she could stay there and be taken care of. While knowing this, she said she felt as if the Holy Spirit was speaking to her and from that moment on was committed to staying put.

They believe that they are still living because of God’s desire for them to continue their civil right’s mission. While tears fell from Bob’s eyes during many of these stories, he shed many when he spoke about his second oldest, Robert Jr. Robert, or Ray as he named himself, led them to their current ministry. Ray was their gay son who Bob and Jeannie for the longest time could not fully embrace despite their openness in the civil rights movement. I began to join him in shedding tears of my own when he described driving his eighteen year old son (they were then in Ohio) to the interstate so he could hitchhike to San Francisco where Ray felt he could be in a safe haven. Ray knew at an early age he was gay and could not find a home in his Lutheran church and while loved by his family, he felt profoundly misunderstood.

Ray became a successful fashion designer where he designed men’s clothing. Bob looked at me and asked, “ You may be too young, but do you know of a singer by the name of Sylvester?” Of course, I did. Ray had designed many of his clothes. Ray died of AIDS at 37, a few months after his grandfather died. Bob says the inheritance that his father left behind allowed virtually all of Ray’s 6 siblings and his parents to say their farewells. In taking care of his during his last days, Ray’s family eyes were opened to God’s presence in all people—including gay and lesbian folks. This became their new mission and was why they were in Asheville presenting with me. What an inspirational opportunity.

They Safe Space conversation went really well. All 3 presentations complemented each other so well. The communal worship was led by UCC minister Rev Kelly Sisson who led us in ritual and prayer to see other perspectives. She also made me jealous when she spoke of her congregation’s sanctuary doubling as a fine arts gallery and that her basement of the church was a stone carving workshop.

My presentation was an exercise and discussion about what it means to be an ally using the Hillel text of
“If I am only for myself than who will be for me? If I am only for myself than what am I? If not now, when?” This text allowed us to discuss the urgency of being an ally for LGBT people and to look earnestly at the barriers. People were forthcoming and honest. The one rabbi shared about the hate language used at his son’s high school and the beating that one of his congregants took who is a transgendered youth. The Graetzes insisted that I was an inspiration to them and I laughed. Who is the inspiration to whom?

The man who organized the event was a man who had received much publicity in the local press when he announced in a sermon that he no longer signed marriage licenses. He would officiate marriage ceremonies, but would not serve as an agent of the state.

Joe Hoffman used to live in Atlanta where he served a UCC community. Care to guess which one? Yes, Central. Hmm, all roads lead back to Central it seems.

Saying goodbye to the Graetzes was filled with hugs and promises to be in touch. I certainly hope that I get to see them again. Also, it was good to see my friend Harry Knox who is the HRC director of the Faith and Action who did his usual awesome job at facilitating the event.

I am on a much delayed flight back to Denver. The weather on the East Coast has backed everything up. We are over 3 hours delayed. But there are times that meeting history make worthwhile. It was humbling and powerful to be with the past and to support the future.

The Ethics of the Other

Ethics of the Other

After having breakfast with the Arnold family and losing miserably at foosball to 10 year old Jonah, I went home. I had hopes of working out but I was incredibly tired from the weekend and still sore. My right eye and right side of my nose throbbed a bit. I went home took a nap and went to a SuperBowl party. I was semi-rooting for the Bears, but like most of the other guys at the party I was more interested in the commercials. I found the opening act of Cirque Du Soleil with Brito’s costumes lots of fun, but could not imagine what person thought that dancing butterflies and big puffy balloons in bright colors and patterns would appeal to the masses of Superbowl watches. Perhaps they were trying a little something for everyone. But then again, this year they asked Prince to sing so that too seemed to be a very odd choice. In other words it was the queerest SuperBowl I have ever watched. Not a bad one to actually see.

I left during halftime to meet the guys from Jewish Mosaic for dinner. We had amazing Vietanamese food—seriously the best Vietnamese food I have ever have. Afterwards, we went to see Children of Men with Clive Owen and Julianne Moore. I am not sure if I was just bored with this post-apocalyptic drama where reproduction has gone by the wayside or if I wasn’t feeling well. Either way, half way through I wanted to be in bed asleep. Not a good sign when one goes to an action flick.

I took Monday pretty easy. Had a voice lesson, went to the acupuncturist who used tiny Korean needles on my face.

Tuesday was an interesting day. I attended the Anti-Defamation League’s civil right’s luncheon where they were honoring reporter William Hosokawa and former Denver mayor Federico Peña. Both had impressive biographies. Bill Hosokawa is a retired Japanese reporter for the Rocky Mountain Times who endured both the trials of being told by his university that no one would hire a Japanese journalist and denied placements, and the far worse trial of being forced into the Japanese internment camps during the war. With little rancor in his voice, he told his story of the journey he made as a Japanese American who was denied many opportunities to being a successful journalist and advocate for human rights..

Frederico Pena, a powerhouse of a mayor has been a visionary for Denver. He pioneered historic preservation in Denver and was a champion for the arts. He nbotably served as Transportation Secretary under Clinton, but he was awarded at the luncheon for his work on immigration rights. He spoke very movingly about his ambivalence of taking on another issue wondering whether he had already given his “due” on important issues. However, his wife and his step daughter convinced him that his voice was needed in the immigration struggle. His stepdaughter told him, if you are going to participate in the rally, go big or don’t go at all.

Later that evening, I went to the first of 3 master classes on the philosopher Emmanuel Levinas given by scholar Claire Katz. He wrote of the ethics of the other. Similar to Buber, he spoke of godliness in theother, but took the relationship further in outlining our inherent responsibility to the other. Some would argue, that his vision was burdensome and overly involved. Though anyone involved in social justice would be compelled and challenged by his philosophy.

From Wikipedia:
Levinas received a traditional Jewish education in Lithuania. After WWII, he studied the Talmud under the enigmatic "Monsieur Chouchani."
Levinas began his philosophical studies at Strabourg University in 1924, where he began his lifelong friendship with the French philosopher Maurice Blanchot, which later on turned into more than a friendship. Later he met Martin Heidegger. Levinas became one of the very first French intellectuals to draw attention to Heidegger and Husserl..
According to his New York Times obituary, Levinas came to regret his enthusiasm for Heidegger, because of the latter's Nazism. Levinas wrote "One can forgive many Germans, but there are some Germans it is difficult to forgive. It is difficult to forgive Heidegger."
After earning his doctorate Levinas taught at a private Jewish university in Paris, the Ecole Normale Israelite Orientale, eventually becoming its director. He began teaching at the University of Poitiers in 1961, at the Nanterre campus of the University of Paris in 1967, and at the Sorbonne 1973, from which he retired in 1979.
In the 1950s, Levinas emerged from the circle of intellectuals surrounding Jean Wahl as a leading French thinker. His work is based on the ethics of the Other or, in Levinas' terms, on "ethics as first philosophy." For Levinas, the Other is not knowable and cannot be made into an object of the self, as is done by traditional metaphysics (which Levinas called "ontology"). Levinas prefers to think of philosophy as the "wisdom of love" rather than the love of wisdom(the literal Greek meaning of the word "philosophy"). By his lights, ethics becomes an entity independent of subjectivity to the point where ethical responsibility is integral to the subject; hence an ethics of responsibility precedes any "objective searching after truth."
Levinas derives the primacy of his ethics from the experience of the encounter with the Other. For Levinas, the irreducible relation, the epiphany, of the face-to-face, the encounter with another, is a privileged phenomenon in which the other person's proximity and distance are both strongly felt. "The Other precisely reveals himself in his alterity not in a shock negating the I, but as the primordial phenomenon of gentleness."[2]. At the same time, the revelation of the face makes a demand, this demand is before one can express, or know one's freedom, to affirm or deny. One instantly recognizes the transcendence and heteronomy of the Other. Even murder fails as an attempt to take hold of this otherness.

The master class began with a look of Levinas prescient crtiquie of Hitler’s philosophy and its incompatiability with Christianity and the danger of its collusion . It was an interesting class and it was followed by a book group discussion at Professor Pessin’s home (a funky concrete loft in SoDo) about Katz’s book Levinas, Judaism and the Feminine: The Silent Footsteps of Rebecca. What a great evening! While many of the people there were into the philosophical nuances of his position, I kept asking the baser questions about practical application and how to apply Levinas’ vision to contemporary Jewish life.

What an interesting day, where the awards banquet served as a background for the philosophy I was studyig.

Blood and Glory

It is 545 am and the wind is howling like a starving coyote. I am in Evergreen, CO staying at my friends' home. Jamie and Marty were good friends in rabbinical school where all 3 of their kids were born. Jamie is the rabbi of Beth Evergreen, a recon 'gog. Marty was a midwife during school but has given that a break. She is incredibly gifted; they both are.

As I drove up to Evergreen, I was struck by the incredible beauty all around. The mountains were particularly majestic with the frame of snow and blue skies. I was filled with both awe and so happy that my friends were living in such a beautiful place. After all, jamie had been a rabbi in Buffalo, NY so though in another cold spot, this one was stunning.

Brrr. It is chilly because I turned off the heater cuz my throat was dry, but I will have to turn it back on. It is not so different at the place I am staying at in Denver. I have not figured out how to overide my landlord's thermostat settings so everynight it drops to 60 degrees and I wake up chilly.

It has been a good week but not without its challenges. I know I haven't written in awhile. A friend of mine used to live in Denver and he and his friend Joe started a group of guys getting together weekly for dinner and watching Battlestar Galactica. I was dubious as I am not a science fiction fan, but it is a really good group of guys who were incredibly welcoming of me. Joe, the "mother" of the group does a lot of cooking and is the host of the weekly gathering. He and I had lunch last weekend and then saw a movie (Epic Movie-run don't walk--- in the opposite direction) with a very sweet couple from the group.

Workwise, we have resubmitted the book proposal to the press and will wait to hear back. In the meantime I have some reading for the book to do.

I started voice lessons with an interesting guy. John is a little short on the social graces so I was unsure at first. The beginning of our meeting was a bit awkward though I was greeted outside by his cat George who was a fluffy, lovable dog-cat. Friendly, interested and needing attention. These are my favorite kind of felines.

Once we started, music is clearly where John comes alive. His somewhat subtle (lifeless) presence became animated, with twinkling eyes even when he started talking music. I have to practice today. We are working on relaxing my face, neck and throat--which may be hard since my face is swollen from yesterday's shenanigan's. I'll get there. Let's just say there was lots of blood and all of it was mine.

Also, there are two recon rabbis in Denver. One at a 'gog called B'nai Havurah and the other at an organization that holds Jewish events called Judaism Your Way. I had only met the first rabbi Steve Booth at conventions and such. Though, I must have seen him in winter climates because when I met him Tuesday night (after a great class on Paul's Jewish roots) seeing him with a beret on struck my deja vu chord.

Steve is a great guy who is disarmingly direct. I appreciate that trait immensely, no guess work. A former taxi cab driver, he is someone who really seems to be energized by the rabbinate. He invited me to a dinner hosted by a Muslim organization (mosaic something--will find it when I am home). They host dinners to promote the idea of dialogue. This group was very sweet and dedicated and mostly from Turkey. They served something called Noah's pudding to commemorate the holiday of the prophet Noah (pbuh-their abbreviation for peace be upon him) and his rescue of the world. In their version Noah's wife gets left behind. And according to the Muslim legend when food gets low in the ark Noah combines the leftovers and creates a pudding. This pudding made with different beans and apricots is a sweet thick concoction that is made and shared as a gesture of good will. Last Monday was the day when this custom was observed. I was uncertain whether this was an official Muslim holiday or a Turkish observance since Christians in turkey also participate. Adventurous in many ways; I am not very adventurous with food and garbanzo bean pudding did not sound to appealing! I did taste it and though also not a pudding fan (sorry, Bill Cosby) it was OK. We ended the evening with a game of foosball 2 Jews playing 2 Muslims. Each team won a game. One of our competitors was a handsome man who had held the title of Turkey's Wrestling Champion.

I hope to do some more things with Steve--he is hosting an NCBI workshop on interfaith dialogue. National Coalition Building Institute. Also, one of my teachers from the institute of Jewish spirituality is coming to his Shul.

Among the growing cast of characters in CO is my acupuncturist, a truly great guy who is a bit into extreme sports and motorcycling. Dustin Slade (a porn star name if I ever heard one) is quite skilled and he explains everything and all the points. I love that. If someone is sticking a needle in me I want to know why. One of his teachers is a Jewish man and Qi gong master who is a bit of a mystic. Dustin loves to ask me about pop-Jewish mysticism, my name for it not his. We always have interesting conversations and the acupuncture itself seems to be working in the ways it should. Though once he was working on some shoulder pain and put a needle in the back part of my shoulder and forgot to remove it. So as I was leaving, I was trying to figure out why there was sharp pain in my shoulder. Putting on my sweater I had pushed the needle in further. Ouch. He was embarrassed, but it is not uncommon. One acupuncturist left a needle in my head and I got quite a surprise when I went to sit in my car and drive.

The sun is coming up and my face is beginning to throb. Just the left side. Yesterday, I arrived in evergreen and was greeted by Jamie and Marty and the cutest kid ever Michaela who looks just like her mom Marty. It was so great to see them!
The boys came in from sledding, Tal who is 12 and Jonah who is almost 11. We had a great shabbos lunch and it was so nice to see them as a whole family. They're funny, smart, creative, energetic. It just felt so great to be an addition. And I hadn't realized this, but they consider me Michaela's godfather. I had helped Jamie write a unique ritual to welcome Michaela into the Jewish covenant.

Soon after lunch, the boys wanted to go sledding. I was game. So the three kids plus a friend and Jamie and I went out to their back yard where there was a terrifically tall and long hill. They had a whole game set up. A race for who could get to the bottom going through a narrow gate they had created. Jonah claimed me for his team and on our first time down miraculously I came in first navigating my sled through the gate. Boy, did I earn my street cred or should I say my snow cred with the boys. Walking back up the hill was hard. My feet sank several inches in the snow and I didn't realize that I had ascended 2000 more feet in elevation in Evergreen so physical activity was a bit more challenging.

After a couple times down, I decided to try going down head first like I had when I was a kid. Yes, this is where you should cover your eyes. I was speeding down, and hit a small drift and went up in the air! How cool. Then I was landing and there was Jamie stretched out in the snow with his daughter. I hit the ground and was going incredibly fast with my face aligned with Jamie's boot. Pow! Kersplat! Thud! I saw blackness for a second but the gushing sensation kept me awake. Blood was flowing out of my nose and all in my mouth. I didn't know what all was bleeding. My mouth felt cut. It wasn't, just swollen. At a certain point, I just looked down and saw how beautiful the blood looked on the snow. Finally, I got the blood to stop with some tylenol thanks to Marty. My nose, left eye and left front tooth and gums are all tender but no loss. This morning, I can feel the bruise! My nose may be broken--the kids looked at me puzzled when I asked if my nose made me look Jewish now. Then I went back to sledding! Hey, I learned from rugby. Maybe this cured my deviated septum.

After that we went inside and hung out. I got a tour of the kids' rooms and they each wanted to show me their prized possessions: dragons, books, homework, art. It was nice. We did havdallah, followed by dinner and mission impossible. I was asleep by 10, hence the early wake up time.

It was a good day--even with the blood loss. Who wouldn't trade a little blood for a good day?
ublish