Stories, stories, stories

I yearn for stories, the thirst to know to people to understand what motivates them, how they lived their lives, what they felt their purpose here was. Mostly, I want to know my family members, my grandparents, yet they are all dead, they mostly live on only in pictures and brief snippets revealed from older relatives. To have known them as a child with memories already quickly faded, leaves aching holes of sadness and regret. If only I had understood then what I know now, we all die, the legacies we leave behind are for those who love us and those we love. I look forward to being reunited in heaven, but for now, I seek stories.

I have been reading two books about WWII, in a bid to feel closer to my paternal grandparents who both immigrated to America from Germany. They were brave, moving to a country where they did not know the language, coming here with brother and sisters instead of parents who choose not to leave the old country. My dream is to someday travel to Germany and see the places they once called home. I often wonder if my ancestors are proud of me, if this seemingly easy life in comparison to the world they grew up in. Whole countries do not thirst to exterminate me because of my religion, I know no other language then my mother tongue, and have food and shelter without hardship. My parents have not been carted to the death camps for slaughter. And yet, that which they sacrificed so much for, their religion, I do not practice with fervor. For the most part, I am assimilated, my Judaism is my heritage, more culturally a part of me then a daily devotional religious practice.

My maternal lineage is all but a mystery to me. I know that my Nana and Papa's parents came from the Ukraine, but little more then that. It should be enough to know that they were good people, hard working ambitious and generous. My Papa was a tall man with a booming voice who called me "Missy" and held me on his shoulders high in the air. Nana would paint my nails and tell me that my hands looked like hers, a fact I hold close to my heart. Memories of them are growing ephemeral, every year a little more misty and obscure. I miss them all, and feel adrift in the large world without concrete stories of them to keep on paper, to know they won't fail when my own ability to remember has already begun to fade.

Work

Walking down to my car tonight, I felt astonished, had another day already passed me by? It went so quickly with no feelings of satisfaction, pride, or redemption. I know that there are people out there making a difference, actually devoting their time to bettering the world we live in and yet here I am, just earning a paycheck. What happened to the idea of a career instead of a job? Am I merely a cog in the wheel of the large machine that is the entertainment industry. I'm certainly not the first person to feel that they're just marking time until the weekend.

So, if I am a solution oriented individual (like my resume claims), what can be done? Where to go from here? Guess it might be time to take some classes, figure out what I'm truly good at and maybe even enjoy what I'm doing.

When it comes to career aspirations, I have hundreds, and I mean that sincerely. Since I like writing stories, I often place myself in heroic jobs, jobs that strike me as truly giving back to the community, you know, EMT, nurse, criminalist, forensic psychologist, sheriff's deputy, in all truth, I could never go back to the school for the amount of time and necessary to obtain a degree beyond the BA I already have.

That's when I get completely nuts and believe that I should be a chef. It sounds like a fun and creative profession, but the reality is that it is a crapload of workand repetitious as hell. A bookstore would be very cool, especially the discount.

What were you listening to when…?

Come on Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners when I crashed my car after a late night of filming when I was at USC School of Cinema-Television.

Nothing Compares 2 U by Sinead O’Connor came on as my first date with my High School boyfriend was ending, but instead of driving me home, we cruised around the neighborhood until the song was over.

Man, I feel like a Woman! By Shania Twain – I listened to this song non-stop to and from my first administrative job interview in the Entertainment Business (prior to that, I fancied myself a post production diva, but sadly, the solitude of editing was not for me). BTW, I ended up landing the job in April 1999 and worked for that company for 4 years going from assistant to manager.

I Want It That Way by Take That – Heard this one playing on the radio after I kicked my college boyfriend out of my house for wanting to go all the way when I wasn’t ready (okay, I thought G-d would kill me if I “did it”, my Mom was super good at the “You should be a virgin when you get married” thing).

Writing

I have been more or less keeping a journal from the time I was in Junior High School. My favorite teacher, Mrs. C gave me a pretty flowered lined paper journal. I didn't really have a clear idea of whether I wanted a "Dear Diary" accounting of my adolescent trials and tribulations, but I did know that I wanted to record some of the things I was going through so I could gain perspective and maybe even a little distance from the chaos of life. It proved to be a calming practice, but leaves around the irritating evidence of one's foibles in acid-free black and white.

I'm not sure why in recent years I only seem to write when I am angry or depressed, for some reason it helps me get the negative emotions out of my head where they rattle around endlessly. Maybe it is the clarity or just the feeling of being justified in my upset even if it is only for an audience of one. I'd like to take a creative writing class, but seem to have every excuse in the book as to why I don't. Reading is my real passion, but I think I have something to say that other's would want to read...guess I need to stop procrastinating.

Anniversary

Jedi and I just celebrated 3 years together. Hard to imagine not having him in my life. We've been in the new house almost 3 months now and are almost out of boxes. Hopefully once we have everything moderately organized then we can start on some of the real work, like trying to make this place look like it escaped the 1970s. I mean the glass wall tiles and wood paneling are a little much. I think the front room would look really great in a cappuccino-like color. Not very exciting I admit, but a hell of a lot better then the white, which looks pretty dinghy.

It still strikes me as unreal that we purchased a house. Still, I think we are both trying to turn it into a place that reflects our interests and personalities. Jedi has taken to having a pool like a duck takes to water. There are few days when he is at home that he doesn't find some small bit of time to jump in.

I really love that our place has fruit trees too. The plum tree is full of fruit just beginning to ripen from green to burgundy. I'm crossing my fingers that a large batch is all ready at the same time so I can make jam out of it.

40th Birthday Mooning!

Our friend Blinky celebrated his 40th Birthday this past week and for his party he requested that everyone join him at Mugs Away Saloon in Laguna Niguel, CA for the 28th Annual Mooning of the Amtrak Trains!?!?! Well, folks I can honestly say that this is the one and only time I have ever mooned anything. Does that make me a prude or just another member of the common sense club? What can I say, it was a blast, somewhere between being like the Sturgis Bike Rally and like Spring Break at Lake Havasu. Diverse levels of the dregs of humanity and some of the nicest, friendliest, and weirdest people you will ever meet. We had a great time!

Happy Birthday Blinky, thanks for celebrating in a unique and fun way!

Time Flies....

So…let’s see what’s new since 2007 started? Well, Jedi proposed to me on 2/2/07 in a hot air balloon over Temecula wine country and I said “yes, Yes, YES”! On 3/13 we went into escrow on a house in Tujunga that has a beautiful backyard with tons of rose bushes, fruit trees, and an awesome pool. Keep your fingers crossed that all goes well and we will be homeowners by mid-April.

I have basically abandoned my blog this past year which is ironic considering I wanted to make a New Year’s resolution to post at least 10 times per month. Oh well, sometimes the best thought out plans come to naught. But I am trying to be kind to myself and accept the limitations that 24 hour days impart. Work has been extremely busy since the New Year. It’s good to have the time filled and to feel good about all I am accomplishing for my customers, but at the same time it has added stress to each day…not so good.

Hopefully, this is the beginning of some new posts on the blog and a new commitment to myself and how interesting I think I am (LOL). Stay tuned!

Poem

Ode to my job

I sit at the computer and stare into space
Wondering while I mark time in this place
Is this all there is? Is this really me?
A cog in a wheel? A bolt in a machine?

But alas, without me, where would you be?
You'd have nothing to watch, but a blank black TV
So I write POs and send out the tapes
Of Harry Potter and Professor Snape

Chained to my desk, a hardworking drone
To keep the public amused and make them feel not-so-alone
This is the druggery that frustrates me so,
But alas, I'll stop bitching and get on with the show.

Book Review: Facing the Wind: A True Story of Tragedy and Reconciliation by Julie Salamon, Sandra Burr

Facing the Wind is about the murder of a family by their beloved and seemingly stable patriarch. In 1978 Bob Rowe killed his wife, two sons (one who was disabled) and adopted daughter with a baseball bat. He was found to be not-guilty by reason of insanity (some of the best parts of the book deal with the insanity defense and how his lawyers plot their case). This is an incredible true crime book written with the participation of many people who’s lives were touched by the tragedy, including the cooperation of the woman, Colleen, who eventually married Rowe years after he was released from the mental hospital. It is this massive scope that is both what recommends the piece as well as its downfall.

As a reader one is unsure what statement the authors are trying to make, you’re unable to be righteously angry at Rowe, since it is amply evident that he truly was suffering a debilitating mental illness, but at the same time you feel that his successful treatment and life after his family’s monstrous murders is unfair. The fact that he is able to recover, remarry, and have a daughter with his new wife fills you with questions about the lives he took. This book challenges it’s readers to see beyond simple categories of good and evil and confront the humanity within atrocities that is sometimes experienced by both the victim and the perpetrator. I whole-heartedly recommend this book to people interested in true-crime not for it’s sensationalism, but for the truths behind the headlines.

Personal Hero: Harry Bingham

Another person, like Chiune Sugihara who listened to their heart instead of their government:

Hiram (or Harry) Bingham IV by Richard Haft (sent to me by my Great Aunt and Uncle)

Just a little more evidence of the behavior of the Roosevelt administration toward the Jews of Europe during WW2 ---

Sometime ago, then Secretary of State Colin Powell gave a posthumous award for"constructive dissent" to Hiram (or Harry) Bingham IV. For over fifty years, the State Department resisted any attempt to honor Bingham. For them, he was an insubordinate member of the US diplomatic service, a dangerous maverick who was eventually demoted. Now, after his death, he has been officially recognized as a hero. Bingham came from an illustrious family. His father (on whom the fictional character Indiana Jones was based) was the archeologist who unearthed the Inca City of Machu Picchu, Peru in 1911.

Harry entered the US diplomatic service and, in 1939, was posted to Marseilles , France as American vice-consul. The USA was then neutral and, not wishing to annoy Marshal Petain's puppet Vichy regime, President Roosevelt's government ordered its representatives in Marseilles not to grant visas to any Jews. Bingham found this policy immoral and, risking his career, did all in his power to undermine it. In defiance of his bosses in Washington, he granted over 2,500 USA visas to Jewish and other refugees, including the artists Marc Chagall and Max Ernst a family member of the writer, Thomas Mann.

He also sheltered Jews in his Marseilles home, and obtained forged identity papers to help Jews in their dangerous journeys across Europe. He worked with the French underground to smuggle Jews out of France into Franco's Spain or across the Mediterranean, and even contributed to their expenses out of his own pocket.

In 1941, Washington lost patience with him. He was sent to Argentina, where, later, he continued to annoy his superiors by reporting on the movements of Nazi war criminals. Eventually, he was forced out of the American diplomatic service completely.

Bingham died almost penniless in 1988. Little was known of his extraordinary activities until his son found some letters in his belongings after
his death. Many groups and organizations, including the United Nations and the State of Israel, have now honored him. ( His postage stamp will be out in
2006).