Divah World

Truck Tipping??

Coming home from Oakland this afternoon, I was stuck in a huge traffic jam--one of those highway into parking lot experiences. Luckily, I wasn't on any specific time frame and there was a baseball game to listen to, albeit a losing effort on the part of the Giants.

Near the toll plaza, at the point where a lot of different roadways merge and circle around, I saw this sign. You can click on either photo for a larger view.

What does this sign mean? What are they warning us about? Should I worry about trucks tipping over on my car? Should truckers worry about their trucks tipping over. And now that they've gotten this far, what can they do about it?????

Any light that can be shed on this matter would be greatly appreciated.......

Birthday Presence

I've come to the realization that the later decades in life take more preparation for adjustment than the earlier ones. Turning forty started at thirty-nine and took until forty-one to take hold. The preparation for fifty started at forty-nine and today, as I celebrate my fifty-first birthday, I think I can begin to have a handle on this half-century decade.

I think that as we get older, we gain more of a capacity to live in the present. The past is basically gone--it lives as part of our present moments, but loses it's own identity. The future has more of a finality to it than ever before. You begin to realize that you're not really sure how much future you've got left. So life becomes more of what is happening now, in the present.

As a meditator, and one who leads meditation groups, I talk a lot about the gift of the present--a gift we rarely give ourselves at any age. But it's one thing to be present in meditation--as hard as that  can be--and quite another to keep living life in the present.

That is the gift of age--the realization that everything we've done up to this point leads to this present moment. We need to revel in that moment without too much concentration on what lies ahead. By concentrating on the present moment, we build what ever the future will hold. We can still have some semblance of control over the present---what will happen in the future is anyones guess.

So as you move through your life, whatever age you are at, don't overlook the present. It incorporates all that has past; it will be a part of all that lies ahead. It's where we live our lives.

When being present becomes difficult----just stop and breathe---it is the most present thing we have.

The Cell Phone Appendage

I remember an anti-smoking movie they showed us in high school that portrayed a world where everyone had these "breathing sticks." (It was very 50's science fiction--in black & white, few if any non-white faces, the men in suits, the women in skirts.) I don't remember what the dire consequences of these sticks were, but I can conjure up the image of all the people on the streets with their cigarettes in their hands, held up to their mouths. This image comes to mind when I see so many people clutching their cell phones in their hands as they go about their business.

It is not my intention to bash cell phone use. Although far from a power user, I am glad to have a cell phone--especially when my car has broken down, or I'm stuck in traffic, late for an appointment. But do we really need to have it in our hands, at the ready at any moment when someone calls? Do you really want to be that accessible to the everyone?

And then there are scenes like the one I witnessed Friday on the 49 Van Ness bus. A man and woman in  their 20's got on the bus, obviously a couple of some sort--just dating or cohabitating, who knows. She boarded first and walked to the middle of the bus. He got on next, cell phone to his ear, and followed her. They stood together--she staring into space, he continuing with his conversation. As we traveled down Mission Street, they were able to procure seats across from us. She continued to stare; he continued with his call. He was doing more listening than talking--there was a lot of "uh-huh" and nodding. I had to think---how necessary was this conversation right now? There's a beautiful women sitting next to you--TALK TO HER!! At one point, he placed his hand over hers in a "yes I'm with you" kind of way, but still, the cell phone stayed at his ear. She was unimpressed. When they left the bus, he was still on the phone.

When I have visitors at my house, I don't stay on the phone talking to someone else. Why should cell phone etiquette be any different???

Simple Mitzvahs

Sometimes, it's the small good deeds that matter. They may not change the world, but they make living in the world a bit brighter. I like to think that the small deeds I do enter inter a larger stream of deeds that flows around and maybe even come back to me. I wrote about one instance of this back in April in a post on Counting the Omer. More of that happened this weekend.

This afternoon, before leaving to go to a barbeque at Golden Gate Park, I called my friend Mitzi Wilner, giving her Rabbi Lew's address so she could send him a get well card (he's recovering from knee replacement therapy). She was glad I remembered. We also talked a bit about services, and the singing that we do during the service and, recently, at kiddish--the get togther after services where we say the blessing over wine, bread, and share in varying quantities and qualities of food (depending on whether there is a sponsered celebration or not :)

Mitzi is a holocaust survivor, and she remarked that the singing brings back good memories of her childhood and her family. She is a survivor, like my friend Goldie Rassen and Beverly Pinto's mom Erna, who has stayed close to her Jewish faith, as I have written in an early post called Goldie. Giving an address, singing--small things I can do to make someone feel good. Things I don't even think much about.

After speaking with Mitzi, we left for the park, stopping first to pick up some ice and waters. I went into Safeway, thinking I had $20 in my pocket. Got the items, and waited at the check out line behind a group made up of 2 parents, their friend, and their 3 small boys. Seeing the food they were buying, I guessed they were also going to a barbeque, and talked to the kids about that--a nice interaction. While still waiting for their items to be processed, I reached for my money, only to realize that there was not a $20 bill in my pocket, just some ones. I start searching all my pockets, seeing what I can come up with. The grand total came to four dollars and some change. So when it comes to my turn I start to ask the checker to ring up just the ice, not sure that I can cover the waters, when the friend from the group in front says "I'll cover the difference" I protested, but he stayed. I was short a dollar. He smiled, gave the clerk the dollar, and went on his way.

Once again, my faith in people is renewed. We need to keep doing the small things--they add up. And they all enter into the grand stream of life.

Music for the Ages..er...Aged????

In today's SF Chronicle, there was an article on the Supreme Court's decision regarding music downloads. ". . . the high court ruled unanimously that developers of file- sharing software could be held liable if consumers used the program to download copyrighted movies and music from the Internet."

A 22-year-old senior at San Francisco State was quoted, giving his opinion that music downloads do not hurt CD music sales - ""I'm not going to buy a CD for $16, $17 or $18 just to hear one or two good songs," he said Monday while his 40 GB iPod played music through external speakers on his desk at San Francisco State's student association office."

In his music-buying lifetime, he's always been able to choose not to buy the CD.

The consumer recording industry has definately gone around in circles with the changes in technology. From 78's, both one and two sided, where Broadway musicals came in a 3 or more record set to LP's, 33 1/3 'long playing" records with the material on one disc that you just flipped over. About the same time we get 45's, kind of equivilant to downloading, since you only had to buy the one song, getting a bonus track on the flip side. Then tape, the short-lived 8-track to cassettes--now the consumers can make their own compilations from existing albums. CD's are next--you can't record, but you can access any track in any order. But now, you can make your own CD's from either your prerecorded selection or individual tracts you download.

Back and forth, back and forth--the technology goes round and round.

With my birthday approaching, I am forced to realize that I am middle-aged..........

Not such a bad thing, but something to get used to..............

Community--physical & virtual

If you asked me, when I was in my 20's, what was my philosophy of life, I would have talked to you about friendship. Life went on, it seemed to me, with the support of friends, and the giving of that same support. I was lucky then, and I'm lucky now, to be encircled with a wonderful group of friends.

My philosophy hasn't changed that much as I journey into my 50's, I simply have a different way of expressing it. It's not that friendship isn't important, but it's having community that greatly impacts ones quality of life. The people in your community don't have to be your friends, although often they are, but as a group they are there to support you, and you support them.

There are those that think that the technology of the 21st Century that makes our world smaller and longer distances more accessible also makes it more impersonal and fragmented. I disagree. I think we can use the technology to make our local communities easier to maintain as well as create global communities we can all share.

I am lucky to be a part of both types of communities. My Beth Sholom community is an incredibly rich source for me--source of friendship, of spirit, of all kinds of support. I saw that support manifested in a wedding this weekend--one of the most joyous events I have attended. And the community is there as well when the shit hits the fan--something I certainly experienced when going through cancer treatment 3 years ago.

I also belong to a professional editing internet user group with members from around the world. I have witnessed an editor in Belgium having problems, sending out a call for help, and getting aid from both north and south hemispheres.

How does one find community? Actually, it's pretty easy. Look around for groups, virtual and physical, that share your interests and then---just show up.

Discovered in Cyberspace

In writing this blog, I am conscious that I am writing for an audience, as small as it may be. While I do share my thoughts, it is not a private journal. That's one of the things I like about blogging. It gives me a writing practice and helps in all my communications. I try to write clearly, concisely, and hope it all makes sense.

I realize that my audience is mostly friends and family--at least that's what I imagine. Yet the power of the web opens up my writing to others as well. Put in the right keywords and I can be found in a Google search. That happened about a month ago when someone in Switzerland Googled "Jörg Zintzmeyer", the designer of the Swiss franc, and found my post about the color of money. I also have connected my blog to Technorati, a site where you can use keywords to search blogs. Someone went there to search for  "wild parrots", and found my entry on the birds of 29th Street.

But this week, I definitely hit a highpoint. I noticed that someone had found my post "The Hard Reality of Sports" by using the keywords "nfl arrest" at Technorati. On the day the search was made, my post was listed within the top 5. I wondered about this, but I was more enthused that I got another hit through Technorati. When I checked my blog's stats the next day, I saw a Sports Illustrated/Netscape link. I was intrigued. When I clicked on the link, there was an AP story entitled "NFL Arrests High Profile But Not Unusual"  On the Sports Illustrated/Netscape page, the editors added content--a box titled "Editor's Web Picks." Lo and behold, under "What People Are Saying" was a link to my blog entry.

It's kind of kin to writing a letter to the editor of a newspaper and having your letter published in a newspaper--except they found me, I didn't contact them. I have to say that it did give me a thrill. Who knows who will find me next???

Makom Kavuah

I am a creature of habit. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's something I've had to accept about myself. Part of it is who I am; part of it is the wariness of change that comes with age.

My devotion to habit extends to where I sit in shul. There is a Jewish concept of makom kavuah, a fixed place for prayer. The source for this is from Gen 19:27 - "And Abraham  got up in the morning to the place where he stood before God"  The idea, at least in my interpretation, is that you create your own sacred space that aides in bringing to you that intimate place of prayer. There is a discussion in the Talmud about this, and the outcome is that if you can't be in your makom kavuah, you're okay in a specified distance around the place.

In the main sanctuary on Shabbat and Holidays I've sat in the same seat for five years now. It's never an issue with anyone since I get there early when the few who are there are regulars with seat choices of their own. At daily morning minyan in the chapel things are more complicated.

When I started going to minyan I chose a place. I was able to keep that place until about a year ago when a woman saying kaddish started coming, arriving earlier than me. I changed my place, but it seems like since then I just keep having to move. New people come and unknowingly sit in my space. I want them to feel welcome, it's wonderful to have new "minyanairres," plus I feel silly asking them to move. So I've been moving around my space.

This morning I arrived at minyan just before 7am in a tired state. Once again, my place was taken. I was cranky. The woman in my seat-a new regular-knew what was wrong, and moved, but I was already settled somewhere else. And then I felt bad displacing her. So two people's makom kavuah were disturbed. This is not a good way to enter into prayer.

My solution? I am going to claim a new makom kavua in a space in the chapel that is not so popular. For some reason most people sit on the right side of the chapel, leaving the left side sparcely populated. I think I will move to the left side, serving two purposes. One is to give me a makom kavuah I can count on, the other is to give the few on the left side some support. It will be odd at first, but I'll get used to it.

Just don't ask me to change my Shabbat seat, at least for now. In a few years we will have a new building with a new sanctuary and I will gladly find my new makom kavuah.

UPDATE: To see how I'm faring with my makom kavuah while Beth Sholom is "Bamidabar" - in the wilderness, click here.

Common Ground

In this morning's SF Chronicle, there was a small AP story about a proposed soccer match in Mexico City between the Italian team Inter Milan and the Zapatista rebels, who always appear in ski masks. All proceeds would go to charity.

This brought to mind the legend from World War One of the Christmas Eve soccer match between the Germans and the English on the battlefield of Flanders--a legend that is true, although somewhat idealized at this point.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the hard reality of sports, displaying the dark side and the toll it can take on the players. These two stories, one from the past, one from the present, bring to fore universiality of sports, the ability to find common ground. Even if the sentiments don't last, it's a start.

The Birds of 29th Street

I live on 29th Street in the Noe Valley neighborhood of San Francisco. Twenty ninth street runs from Mission to Diamond without being interrupted by hills, which makes it a fairly well traveled thoroughfare. The street starts in the flat, then climbs up. My house is in the last block of the street, at the starting point of the steepest section, so the engines really rev as the cars drive by. While the noise on my street is not in the same league as 29th Street in NYC where my friend Dorene lives with her family, it's not the quietest place either.

Yet, in the spring and summer, early in the morning when the cars are few and far between, I wake up to a varied chirping of birds. The birds are probably part of a flock of wild parrots originally imported as house pets. You can read about the San Francisco parrots in Mark Bittner's The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. There is also a documentary of the same name. For specific information on the Noe Valley parrots, click here.

It's a beautiful cacophany. I don't usually see them en mass, though I often spy different varieties in my backyard. But in those early hours with the sun newly risen, listening to their songs,  I lay in my bed and smile, reminded of another reason why I love living here.