Givin it away...

So, in a few weeks, we'll build the sukkah. And I don't know about you, but I've never really done this before... except when, back in my Hebrew school days at BHC, I used to get lined up and marched out to the yard, where there just happened to be a year-round sukkah frame.

There, we little kiddles would string granny smith apples on long pieces of wire, knotted at the bottom. Year after year.

Until one day, a little girl (can't remember her name) stuck the wire through a bright green apple...

and (you guessed it) through her finger on the other side. It pushed the fingernail OFF! And there she was, with the wire running through the apple, her finger, and her nail, which was stuck on the end like a cork or something. UGH!

So this should be pretty different. And in our sukkah, which we'll build from scratch, we'll be having an EVENT! A PROGRAM!

This guy from MAZON will come and speak to us about fighting world hunger, and also we'll collect packaged foods to donate to the FREE LUNCH program here in Iowa City. Hurrah!

Wait, there's more! Because after that, Stacy and Annie will play music for us... while we drink hot cider and eat popcorn in the best little ol' fruit-hut in the world.

But you want to know what's super cool? Everything is free! I called the band and asked if they'd give it away... and they said yes...

And then I called the gigantic grocery store, and asked if we could have cider and popcorn for 40... and they said yes, and asked if I needed cups too...

And so I thought, "What the heck!" and I asked if maybe the gigantic grocery store wanted to donate some foodstuffs for the hungry folks over at the FREE LUNCH... and they said, "Well of course we want to donate some foodstuffs for those nice people!"

So now I have what we programming-director-types call an event, a program... and it's all free.

Which makes me think that the world is weird. Because there are all these hungry people... and then there are all these people givin it away... but there are still all these hungry people. Hmmmm.

In other news today, I'm reading an Agatha Christie novel, and I'm so impressed with it. I couldn't possibly write something like that... which makes me consider genre fiction, and wonder if the literary fiction folks think they could do that if they wanted to...

Literary fiction folks? Could you do that if you wanted to?

And in still other news, the dishes are piling up...

Nothing is Illuminated

I have nothing special to say today... I wrote the October newsletter at work, put my old New York pages into the site (oldishy) drank coffee with my friend Pieta... discovered Readerville.com. Now I will go home and check the mailbox, A day. Another day.

Feels nice, after reading my old, exciting, but frequently unhappy posts. I'm dull and happy today.

But one thing...

I was just reformatting my old boy-journal... It's a document I wrote that summer in New York, in which I archived all my relationships with boys. It was called "Evaluative Autobiography of Lost Loves OR The Particular Boots I've Knocked...

I wanted to post it here, but was afraid to do so. It's racy and risky, and NOT (no way to pretend) FICTION.

And back then... in the summer of 2001, I thought nothing of posting it, didn't even change the names. But now, working at Hillel, safely inside a relationship, I'm afraid to put it up. Which freaks me out a little.

I've always been painfully aware, since I was about 13, that I would someday "sell out" or "grow up" (semantics depending on attitude)and now, I think it's happening.

And on alternating days I like the prospect... and on alternating days I dye my hair blue, or go to the Goodwill, or dig out an old Social Distortion record.

And I certainly don't want to sell-out my writerly self, even if I'm not obviously "alternative" these days... but I don't want to hurt people either... weird.

So, the BOYS page may resurrect itself, and it may not. But I'd love input on this tricky issue. How punk are you? How nice are you? Does it matter?

The Wily Charms of Charm City

I had a really long dream last night about Baltimore... home to the largest tulip beds outside Holland.

Home to Frank Zappa and John Waters, Atmans and the Broadway market, the Hippodrome Hat Store and Trinacria's.

Home to a whole lot of seagulls, prostitutes, and ME.

This happens often at the holidays, when I get a little teary, talk to my dad on the phone for long stretches, and wish I were wee. Wee and living in Govans...

(It probably didn't help that ELIMIDATE last night was in Charm City as well)

In the dream, Chris and Dave and I were living down near the harbor, in a brick rowhouse (probably in Canton somewheres). I could see the water from my window. Dave was sitting in the little rowhouse yard, smiling and doing the things dogs do. Chris was making music. I was just hangin out.

Not much of a dream, but I woke up so homesick!

I generally like to imagine potential lives, and I regularly come up with a new version of THE PLAN. Then I chatter on and on about the mechanics of THE PLAN. (I think this personality trait might be a little irritating)

In the last year, I've actively wanted to move to Brooklyn, Seattle, Scotland, Durham, Jerusalem, Chicago, Atlanta, Austin. I've imagined my homes there (and spent some time on realtor.com). I've sent for info on the Jewish communities in those places, scoped out jobs in those towns. I've done a lot of thinking.

And in a more concrete way, Chris and I have talked a lot about where to go next. We most often decide to move to North Carolina, to the fine town of Durham, because it has a lot of stuff, but not too much stuff. Because it doesn't cost as much as San Francisco. And because I can drive to the water and Chris can drive to the mountains.

But that isn't really what I want at all. That's the plan I get excited about because it feels like Chris won't ever consider what I really want. (Though I'm not sure why I think that...) And it's the next-best thing.

What I want... to move home. To the farmers market on Saturdays with Roy, my kid brother. To lunch with Chris at the Sip-n-Bite and then duckpin bowling.

I want to spend our summers downyocean, hon.

But I've never been in this kind of a relationship before, where both people are strong independent types, but also both people are willing to compromise... How is this supposed to work? When you really love someone?

Chris wants to move to Minneapolis or Durham. He'd consider Austin. I want to move to Baltimore or Philadelphia. I'd consider DC.

Certainly, it makes some sense to move to Durham, because I'll be only a short drive home to Baltimore, and I'll be in a nice area, a place I don't MIND. But it's also true that I've given Durham a shot, even went down to interview for a job there... before we both decided to stay here for at least another year or two.

And Durham feels small to me. I miss city-life, wandering into a place I've never been, getting lost in a crowd. I want something a little more edgy. I want the grit and bustle. I want, if I don't like my job, to find another job. I want a place where I can have many lives, instead of one big life that bumps into itself on a regular basis.

And Chris hasn't really considered Baltimore at all, I don't think. And we haven't even visited Phillie or DC. We haven't seriously discussed it. So I'm not sure why he's opposed.

So... my question is... what is FAIR? How does this whole compromise thing work? What do you do when you have kids, or you're married?

What if I got a job in DC, a really cool job working in arts-non-profit-programming, or teaching? What if he got a studio gig in Nashville? What do people do?

And Baltimore... is that an unreasonable request?

We could try it, right? For a few years?

Shana Tova, at the very least!

I'm nutso-busy with eight thousand things to do. Dinners and services and new students and trying to find a place for Break-the fast next week for Yom Kippur. But in case anyone is actually peeking at my little site, I want to say Happy New year to everyone. Happy New Year!

The last few years (until around March 2003) were really hard for me, and one of these days I'll get around to archiving my old site (lonelysongs.com) so that you can read just how hard! But this year has been amazing, and calming, and productive. I've been writing, and Chris and I bought a house, and we got the animals, and I started publishing here and there, and I discovered kiddie lit, and everything and everything. And I've been trying to think about entering the new year, and it hasn't felt necessary, much. Because I just want to float along.

And then this week my sister called me, and said she had to go into the hospital for some tests. And suddenly everything felt very temporal and momentary. No big deal. Not a huge medical thing. I'm sure she's fine. But still. Right?

I resolve that this year will be more intentional. I resolve to work towards care. I resolve to be MORE productive, and to push what calm I've found OUT into the world around me. I'd like to get involved with Americans for Peace Now. I'd like to revise my kid's novel. I'd like to go to the gym. I'd like to visit my sister while she's still in Louisiana, instead of letting the year slip by.

Okay. Mushy mushy I know. But it's Rosh Hashanah, yo! So Shana Tova!!!!!!!!!! A sweet year to you all.

PS... last night Seamus Heaney was at the Foxhead, just drinkin with the regulars, and I MISSED IT!

Dave Eggers and the Shofar Factory

I went to see Dave Eggers read on Sunday night and I've been thinking about it ever since.

Or at least, I've been thinking about it a lot. Because it bothered me.

I found the reading highly entertaining. I thought Mr. Eggers was incredibly confident, and he seemed to enjoy his audience. No small feat. I thought he was funny and witty and clever, and I laughed out loud.

But I feel that way about Seinfeld too, and Seinfeld is not the voice of my generation.

And while it's true that Mr. Eggers never asked to be the voice of my generation, and it's also true that I have not read AHWOSG, which is supposed to be both heartbreaking and staggering(I will start it tomorrow... I promise).

And it is further true that Mr. Eggers does all kinds of important things for the children of San Francisco (Don't worry, Mr. Eggers, I think you are neat and will get into heaven), in the end, I was really sad.

Because it was only witty and clever and funny. And I only laughed. Nothing else. I didn't get it in the gut. Not even once. It felt empty. I wanted Salinger, Steinback and Stegner. I wanted to be stunned by the voice of my generation, and I wasn't. Sigh...

Next day.

In a related story, we made shofars at Hillel last night. And the Chabad rabbi who had come all the way from Postville (you should probably google that!) to show us how to carve ram's horns (and sand them, drill them, shellac them, blow on them) gave a little talk beforehand.

He told us about how the soul seeks nourishment. He made it sound like the soul is living in your belly, nestled up against all the other major organs. And the soul needs nourishment just like all the other parts of you. "It gets thirsty," he said, "It thirsts."

He told us that spiritual nourishment is just like any other nutrient.

Like this: Maybe on a Tuesday you feel melancholy, weak, tired, sad, frenzied, or confused. And the solution to your problem happens to be a shot of Iron, or Protein, or Vitamin C. The problem is, you can't tell what your body wants. You don't necessarily know how to listen to your body.

But once you drink some orange juice, or chew on a turkey sandwich, you feel better. Right?

The rabbi said spiritual thirst is like that, and that people keep trying to feed their souls, but they don't get better, only smarter or stronger, or more popular. Nothing important.

In the rabbi's version, spiritual nourishment was about opening a siddur and praying. And while I'm sure that siddur-moments ease his particular spiritual maladies, they aren't the answer to my particular deficiency. Not right now, in this particular (chapter of my)life.

But sometimes Leonard Cohen songs, or re-reading Angle of Repose is what my soul wants. And sometimes I talk with Susan about something really "feeling" and she tells me what I need to hear. And once in awhile, it ACTUALLY IS prayer, however loosely I define the word.

I remember ducking into St. Mary's one evening to avoid finishing my MFA exam a few years ago, and they were doing the stations of the cross, and I listened. When I came out I felt better, and I wrote the whole damn essay.

So... was it soul-thirst I was feeling at the Eggers reading, without knowing it? I was feeling something, and coincidentally, I went home and read a little book called Twinkle Twinkle... and it made me not-so-thirsty.

And then the next day, the rabbi told me about my soul, living somewhere near my kidneys I think. And I felt good.

Although my shofar doesn't work.

And now... I hereby OUT those I know to be members of my own very special tribe.

(converted-or-not, "wrong-half", absolutely secular, generally- uninterested, now-practicing-Wicca... whatever...)

Thisbe Nissen is in-betweenish. Anthony Hecht is in-betweenish. Margaret Schwartz is in-betweenish. Lily Roberts is in-betweenish. Lee Klein is in-betweenish. Emma, Henry and Roy Snyder are in-betweenish.

Are you in-betweenish? Write me.

Faith is interesting, beautiful, fluid. Culture is warm and home. Dialogue is necessary like water.

Secular? Religious? Curious? Confused? Angry? Entranced? Gleeful? Bored? Amused?

Welcome to JewishyIrishy. I haven't yet decided how much I want to make this an actual resource, and how much I just want to vent. Probably, the decision will depend on whether I receive a flood of friendly emails from other in-betweenish folk.

(If anyone wants a bulletin board, we can do that. But I won't make a bulletin board until I'm sure it won't sit idle. Pretty pathetic, that!)

I just want to begin by saying that identity isn't (particularly in the-here-and-now) about streamlining. Just because you can't check a box that says JEWISH or HISPANIC or HETEROSEXUAL (without chewing on the endo of your pencil)doesn't mean you don't have an identity. In fact, I think it's up to the in-betweenish world to help society carve out a new way of talking about identity.

As for me, I'm a Jewishy girl with a ruddy Irish glow. My mom is the head of the liturgy committee at Corpus Christie (Catholic) Church in Baltimore, MD and my dad is a founding member of The (incomparable) Bolton Street Synagogue in that same fair city. I studied religion as an undergrad, lived in Israel and now work as the Jewish Student Life Coordinator for the University of Iowa.

But I've also spent a lot of time in Ireland and Rome and I reread C.S. Lewis once a year. I got my hand broken demonstrating with Catholic Worker in D.C. and I used to play hide-n-seek in the vestmant closets with my (STILL!) best friend ever (Hey, Susan...).

And my wonderful surly boyfriend is Italian Catholic too. So am I Jewish? The rabbis can argue about it all day, and I took my dip in the mikvah to make em happy, but what matters most to me is making a community for myself.

With you...

Mostly, this site (or at least this blog) won't be religious in content. Mostly, (unless the world wants otherwise) it will simply be my life online, in-betweenish as it is. Unashamed. Proud of all the little sparkly pieces...