Born in the neighborhood of Shushan P
Studied at Cheder when I was only 3
Learned to play the lute and my ABC
And now I'm the Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Esther, Esther HaMalkah
Queen of the Persians and the Medes
I'm a champion at dreidel, naturally
My hula hoop is made out of hickory
I belly-dance and always dress modestly
And now I'm the Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Esther, Esther HaMalkah
Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Won a beauty contest easily
Answered all the questions on Jeopardy
In college I majored in diplomacy
And now I'm the Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Esther, Esther HaMalkah
Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Some day I'll have a daughter, or two or three
And pass on my statecraft recipe
We'll go on vacation to Hawaii
And now I'm the Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Esther, Esther HaMalkah
Queen of the Persians and the Medes
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holidays. Show all posts
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Smooth
Spring is in the air, and the mango-orange smoothie is in the blender. A few days away from the bagel peanut butter diet, and I can already see a difference in how my clothes are fitting. It is possible to stay vegetarian, or even vegan, and still take in way too many high fat calories.
My daughter introduced me to blues dancing. It's couples dancing with a lot of the swing dance moves, but most songs are slower and less bouncy. You do in your stocking feet. Except for the formless and ubiquitous slow dance, I've never done partner dancing before. I managed to exist in a world where people disco without touching unless they all join hands and form a circle. Fortunately, my guy has had a smattering of exposure to ballroom et al.
Oh yeah, my guy Smiley. We've been dating for almost two years. Ever since he drove me home from a Valentines party. (Awwwwww.)
My daughter introduced me to blues dancing. It's couples dancing with a lot of the swing dance moves, but most songs are slower and less bouncy. You do in your stocking feet. Except for the formless and ubiquitous slow dance, I've never done partner dancing before. I managed to exist in a world where people disco without touching unless they all join hands and form a circle. Fortunately, my guy has had a smattering of exposure to ballroom et al.
Oh yeah, my guy Smiley. We've been dating for almost two years. Ever since he drove me home from a Valentines party. (Awwwwww.)
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Pink
On Sunday I went to my book discussion meeting. The Grapes of Wrath seems topical now. When I read it as a High School student, the 1930s seemed primitive and remote. It was akin to reading about feudalism or ancient Egypt. Since then, I've seen parallels to the depression, with displaced workers after factories have closed and refugees after the Katrina Hurricane. It was fun to recognize the heavy handed propaganda techniques Steinbeck used to make readers love the ordinary people characters and to hate the corporate big guys and their evil minions.
Then, as it started to snow, I dashed over to U Village shopping center in the annual quest for Chanukah candles. My neighborhood stores can never be relied on to carry any. A few days later, I've finally gotten curious enough to check out what colors they are. First of all, the two boxes I bought were taped shut. (Because, someone might try to eat them and they want to prevent tylenolesque tampering?) And more strangely, there are no blue and no green. The mix consists of red, orange, yellow, white, and pink. The pink is completely unexpected.
Then, as it started to snow, I dashed over to U Village shopping center in the annual quest for Chanukah candles. My neighborhood stores can never be relied on to carry any. A few days later, I've finally gotten curious enough to check out what colors they are. First of all, the two boxes I bought were taped shut. (Because, someone might try to eat them and they want to prevent tylenolesque tampering?) And more strangely, there are no blue and no green. The mix consists of red, orange, yellow, white, and pink. The pink is completely unexpected.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
MinHaggadah - Passover Shopping
I told my daughter that I was going to buy some holiday groceries. She asked me what I was going to get. I already had apples, but we still needed the horseradish and more eggs. There was also the matter of the matzah.
"Don't we also need to get an orange?"
"If you say that we need an orange, then I will get an orange."
"But don't we NEED an orange."
"If an orange is part of your minhag, then we should have one."
She tried the phrase "supposed to" on me, but that didn't specifically apply either.
So, about the orange:
The seder plate includes five symbolic foods, although the seder is based around three symbolic foods including the unleavened bread which is not even one of the five on the plate. A Venn diagram might be useful here. Israeli seder plates include a space for a fresh green in addition to the mild parsley and the bitter horseradish. This is usually lettuce, and my haggadah does not mention any symbolism for it. An orange is not among the five.
There is a very modern story, probably originating in our lifetimes, and in my opinion, like an earlier one about George Washington and the cherry tree, quite likely after the fact, about the passover orange. Today there are many female rabbis, but this is a phenomenon of the last half century. Before that, rabbis were all male. Orthodox synagogues still do not have any women in rabbinical roles. Since those guys say that they are doing everything correctly, and all else is inauthentic imitation, adherents would be of the opinion that there STILL are no women rabbis.
We could get into many advantages and disadvantages of an all-male clergy. I like the idea that it gives men something to do. Hanging out with their rabbi and discussing a Jewish equivalent of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin provides camaraderie and defrays boredom. This can contribute to a congenial home life. When women are discouraged from this esoteric knowledge, some of them desire inclusion. For example, if I were more informed, I might understand the significance of the not-so-bitter Israeli lettuce. There is also an increasing trend of clerical authoritarianism, I see that as the real issue in this citrus conversation. When both sexes are involved in a process, that egalitarianism is transmitted to those they serve. That would be the congregations.
Returning to the orange:
Once upon a time, not too long ago, a young woman asked her rabbi if she could also become a rabbi when she grew up. He responded: "When women can be rabbis, there will be an orange on the seder plate." Since that time, oranges have shoe-horned their way onto crowded holiday tables.
The haggadah doesn't say anything directly about why an egg is included either, only that you need one. Tradition has always been an evolving fusion.
"Don't we also need to get an orange?"
"If you say that we need an orange, then I will get an orange."
"But don't we NEED an orange."
"If an orange is part of your minhag, then we should have one."
She tried the phrase "supposed to" on me, but that didn't specifically apply either.
So, about the orange:
The seder plate includes five symbolic foods, although the seder is based around three symbolic foods including the unleavened bread which is not even one of the five on the plate. A Venn diagram might be useful here. Israeli seder plates include a space for a fresh green in addition to the mild parsley and the bitter horseradish. This is usually lettuce, and my haggadah does not mention any symbolism for it. An orange is not among the five.
There is a very modern story, probably originating in our lifetimes, and in my opinion, like an earlier one about George Washington and the cherry tree, quite likely after the fact, about the passover orange. Today there are many female rabbis, but this is a phenomenon of the last half century. Before that, rabbis were all male. Orthodox synagogues still do not have any women in rabbinical roles. Since those guys say that they are doing everything correctly, and all else is inauthentic imitation, adherents would be of the opinion that there STILL are no women rabbis.
We could get into many advantages and disadvantages of an all-male clergy. I like the idea that it gives men something to do. Hanging out with their rabbi and discussing a Jewish equivalent of how many angels can dance on the head of a pin provides camaraderie and defrays boredom. This can contribute to a congenial home life. When women are discouraged from this esoteric knowledge, some of them desire inclusion. For example, if I were more informed, I might understand the significance of the not-so-bitter Israeli lettuce. There is also an increasing trend of clerical authoritarianism, I see that as the real issue in this citrus conversation. When both sexes are involved in a process, that egalitarianism is transmitted to those they serve. That would be the congregations.
Returning to the orange:
Once upon a time, not too long ago, a young woman asked her rabbi if she could also become a rabbi when she grew up. He responded: "When women can be rabbis, there will be an orange on the seder plate." Since that time, oranges have shoe-horned their way onto crowded holiday tables.
The haggadah doesn't say anything directly about why an egg is included either, only that you need one. Tradition has always been an evolving fusion.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Tu BShevat and Sonnets
My daughter asked me if I knew any words that rhymed with "lost." Other than using a rhyming dictionary, the most obvious method is to go through the alphabet: bossed, cost, dossed. Is dossed a word? I think it is, and an online dictionary says that it means going to bed. Which is perfect for poetry where the subject might want to bunk down, perchance to dream. And what about "dost?" The Internet says it is an archaic form of "does," I do, he dost. OK, yes, that sounds familiar, very "Prince and the Pauper." It turns out that she was writing a sonnet.
The main thing that I remembered about sonnets was that Sylvia Plath had science class anxiety, and she got her counselor to excuse her from having to enroll. But she found the atmosphere in study hall to be something like Mark Twain`s description of a Lacrosse game: two armies beating each other with sticks, with a hard missile occasionally denting someone`s head. So she asked the chemistry teacher if she could audit his class, and spent the sessions looking up to smile sweetly at him while writing sonnets and villanelles.
There are roughly three styles of sonnet, with the Shakespearean form being the favorite of ninth-graders. Maddy showed me a few well-known examples, all of which I recognized. I tried reading one out loud, and she said that I was not following the soft/hard pattern of iambic pentameter. Her English teacher recommends "head banging" to get the rhythm right. This rhythm can also be achieved by channeling Bela Lugosi, or the Sesame Street Count, or any Italian speaker. Also, each line must have ten syllables.
Your teacher said that you should bang your head
But I prefer to wave my arm instead
Yes, incorporating movement really did allow me to get into the sonnet groove. And as I shall be going to a service tomorrow where everyone has been asked to bring a rock or a feather or a quotation
OR A POEM
It seems only fitting to appear with my first ever Sonnetic effort.
today we mark the new year of the trees
wet sap awakens, hidden within bark
in two months the stubborn leaf buds it frees
shall burst knifelike and pallid in the park
soon greenish fronds seek sun to synthesize
added mass of stems, that bloom and set seed
winter shards cover up in springtime guise
avian creatures weave a house of reed
plantlike, sometimes emotion hibernates
when weather harsh restricts love`s easy flow
until hormonal heat initiates
capillary action`s flowery show
red rose hips in a scape barren of sprigs
a lone preserve: fall`s fruit upon stark twigs
The main thing that I remembered about sonnets was that Sylvia Plath had science class anxiety, and she got her counselor to excuse her from having to enroll. But she found the atmosphere in study hall to be something like Mark Twain`s description of a Lacrosse game: two armies beating each other with sticks, with a hard missile occasionally denting someone`s head. So she asked the chemistry teacher if she could audit his class, and spent the sessions looking up to smile sweetly at him while writing sonnets and villanelles.
There are roughly three styles of sonnet, with the Shakespearean form being the favorite of ninth-graders. Maddy showed me a few well-known examples, all of which I recognized. I tried reading one out loud, and she said that I was not following the soft/hard pattern of iambic pentameter. Her English teacher recommends "head banging" to get the rhythm right. This rhythm can also be achieved by channeling Bela Lugosi, or the Sesame Street Count, or any Italian speaker. Also, each line must have ten syllables.
Your teacher said that you should bang your head
But I prefer to wave my arm instead
Yes, incorporating movement really did allow me to get into the sonnet groove. And as I shall be going to a service tomorrow where everyone has been asked to bring a rock or a feather or a quotation
OR A POEM
It seems only fitting to appear with my first ever Sonnetic effort.
today we mark the new year of the trees
wet sap awakens, hidden within bark
in two months the stubborn leaf buds it frees
shall burst knifelike and pallid in the park
soon greenish fronds seek sun to synthesize
added mass of stems, that bloom and set seed
winter shards cover up in springtime guise
avian creatures weave a house of reed
plantlike, sometimes emotion hibernates
when weather harsh restricts love`s easy flow
until hormonal heat initiates
capillary action`s flowery show
red rose hips in a scape barren of sprigs
a lone preserve: fall`s fruit upon stark twigs
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