You don't have to be Jewish . . .

. . . but speaking a bisl Yiddish vouldn't hoyt !!!!

So, test your knowledge of Yiddish trivia here.

True or false: Colin Powell learnt to speak Yiddish in his youth.

Nu, click already !!?!

Mellow in Ithaca

A friend is someone
who knows your past,
believes in your future,
and accepts you, always,
just as you are

Sour on Krauthammer . . .

Time for a new turn on the blog.

I am Sour on Krauthammer!

Don't know what I am talking about? Here, look at this article in current issue of Time

So, what do you think? The standard line about the UN being useless?

I recognize the UN has not lived up to it's intended mission, but lets not forget who has said and done what.

Here is my letter to Time on the matter:

re: Krauthammer on the failings of the UN (Time US Oct 23, 06)

This is the 2nd or 3rd occasion, I believe, that I am writing to Time regarding an article by this so-called journalist and commentator.

There is a very deep irony in this fellow earning money to write about the failings of the UN.

Why? Because he vigorously supported the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 - an action that is now widely recognized in the US, as it was initially in most of the rest of the world, as a brazen incursion enacted for other purposes under the pretext of “intelligence” regarding Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction. With hindsight it is clear that Krauthammer and the rest of the media assisted in spooking the nation into quietly going along with this at the time. The consequences have been disastrous.

If the UN were able to read Time, it might have sent a letter with the reminder that Krauthammer was wrong, and the UN right, about Iraq.

But to add insult to injury, in the same article, Krauthammer writes that the UN Security Council was “reduced to a bystander when a second Gulf War broke out in 2003 ”. Did you see that? Of course you did - the war simply broke out.

The reason this matters is because many US politicians and the right wing media regularly belittle the UN. It is of course quite clear that by invading Iraq, it was the US that reduced the UN to a bystander - theirby fulfulling their collective prophecy.

Clearly Krauthammer was right to state earlier in this article that “illusions never die”. In his case it is more a "delusion": that he and the rest of the Neocon establishment were right about going into Iraq and creating a new democratic reality in the Middle East.

So, to conclude, some possible headliners you (Time) might consider:

Sour on Krauthammer.

or

We should learn from our past; if a journalist has no merits, he can’t write.

Or he can write, just not for money, and/or not for Time.

Ps feel free to send the feedback on to him as well.

_____*****_____

To which I have had the following reply - gib a kook, and stay tuned for more in this vein.

Dear Reader:

Thank you for writing. We welcome timely, insightful reactions to material we have published, and we can assure you that your observations found an attentive audience among the editors. Should your comments be selected for the column, you will be notified in advance of publication. Again, our thanks for letting us hear from you. We hope that you will write again should you discover something of particular interest in the news or in our reporting of it.

Best wishes.

TIME Letters
____________

Update November 1st 2006.

Of course, we are not alone! At least, I am not . . . when it comes to "zis zauer kraut".

Check out this google search of "Sour Krauthammer". Just be warned, this is a regular web-search, and some sites you reach may not be suitably restrained in their use of language. For this, I can not be held responsible. As for Krauthammer, I am not done with him yet.

Getting the picture . . .

Part 1: We have entered the 9 th month of the New WAM and this blog, and it seems there may be some perplexity out there as to postings on different subjects. The artwork above, if I may call it that, pulls together the major elements of this blog.

First things first, the blog is not an official mouth piece for anyone, but me. True, both the blog and the Minyan came into being in Feb 2006, after BSBI's historic meeting concluding the "location issue". And I certainly hope it speaks for as many of us as it might, but no doubt at times it may not. One of the reasons I set up the blog was to give voice to people's frustrations, and provide them a place to air them. The blog is moderated, which means I can temper what gets expressed. The intent of that was to reduce the number of angry emails making the rounds. In that regard, I believe the blog has been largely successful.

However, fairly early into my blogging experience, I figured there was a need to provide more than one theme for visitors to have reason to return. To that end, I extended the blog content into a number of directions. The initial themes are laid out in the Magen David above. To signal which theme or corner is being addressed, posts are often headed by a piece cropped from the larger scheme.

The Editor's Corner postings tend to be serious, and formal. The Kvatch section is fun and nonsense (literally "rubbish" - as in the German quatsch). The Kvetch corner has only been used once thus far, on the latest posting, Sour on Krauthammer . . , but more will yet come.

As for the corners denoted by Hebrew letters, that will await another day . . .

In the meantime, Farewell,

Peter R

Some afterwords - If I decide to enhance a post with another image, then that image replaces the label. So,
Tales from Summer Camp is Kvatch without the



label.

Instead, you see, you get . . .

the picture . . .

My kind of Shul . . . . the story continues

At my kind of shul . . .

. . . it's hard to keep from smiling.

. . . 25 children blessed the Torah together.

. . . 3 children danced in circles on the morning of Shmini Atzeret.

. . . the announcements sounded like a 50's country radio station . . . with the call sign "Radio W. A. M." - and D. J. inspiration from Charles Steinert.

. . . children chanted parshas, and their parents' faces beamed with joy.

. . . it's fun to be on a winning team.

. . . it's fun to be a benchwarmer on a winning team.

. . . even the benchwarmers use benchers.

. . . we often have Conga lines at Friday evening services (ask Charles Steinert)

. . . we still like to round off services with a rousing "Spiro" Adon Olam.

. . . you can come and be part of the ruach.

. . . you can come and be a part of Charleston's new history.

. . . you can share precious moments with friends and family, to remember forever.

. . . is full of pleasant surprises - and nostalgia is everything it used to be, and more . .

One more time . . .

and now, here they are . . .

all the way from the Muddle West!

the beatless . . .

PS: if you get a message from your computer about foreign characters (as in letters, Kvatchkopf !!!), click ignore or cancel, then the thing will load (as in download, not ammo !!). Oy, hapless? . . . .

Hit the Chai lights . . .

A touching clip of music and images of Jerusalem

and

Don't miss the latest crazy story - Tales from summer camp, starring - The Kid. (scroll down)

Also, if you want to dig into the archives, there is the zany story - Could squirrels be evolving?, with interesting links to explore.

Please don't drink and read at the same time, your tea/coffee/beer/scotch/milk may come out your nose!

More fun on the web tomorrow.

Tales from summer camp!

*****************Out cold - the Kid takes a nap.


Summer camp is not supposed to be a Darwinian experience. But sometimes it just turns out that way. Could our children be evolving?

If you sent your child to camp this summer, did you check them over really carefully when they got back - things you should have looked for: gills, changes in eating habits, deportment and subtle new social behaviours. For a few days after our son returned, "Camp Judaea" took over the lake out back by day, and the FROG by night. (FROG = Finished Room Over the Garage, often used as den or playroom - FROG is a southern contribution to the evolution of the American branch of the English language, courtesy of "realtors", who are fairly vilified as arch practitioners of the Darwinian Arts, but that’s another story. Just kidding, Susan, okay?)

Adaptability and initiative are key elements that helped our forebears survive on the savannahs of Africa. I am happy to report that these traits are still very much in evidence in Charleston, SC, not far from Savannah, Ga. I can say this because I have seen my wife prepare our children for their summer sojourns in the hinterlands. I have also seen my children cope with any shortcomings there may have been in those preparations.

Take this last time, for example. We sent our youngest off to camp with a shortage of a major resource - cash! Just after he had gone through security at the airport with his travel companions (he is 16 already), my wife turned to me and said, "I forgot to give him some MONEY!"

Imagine the scene. A frantic mother trying to get through our nation’s massively-upgraded security at the airport to give her poor, deprived, starving child . . . . spending money - it could break your heart! Fortunately, sanity prevailed, and she did nothing of the sort. That other great coping mechanism kicked in - "Oh well, he’ll just have to borrow some from his friends. They all have lots of money." (Rationalization to the rescue again!) And with that, we turned round and left for home, with nary a flicker . . . of hesitation or guilt.

So here’s where survival instincts really kicked in. Our son, let’s call him "The Kid" ("The Dude" will have to wait for another story). OK! So, The Kid gets to camp with $2 in his pocket. What does he do? The Kid finds a poker game, and buys in. By the midpoint of summer camp, he has made $XX, with a record single-game-take of $XX somewhere in all of that. On the one hand, it makes me chuckle, on the other, I worry some parent is going to come along and ask for his money back. Time to lay low and avoid eye-contact. (Sorry for Xing the $$$ above, but these amounts have been censored to protect the perpetrators! and me, based on the very best in legal advice $$$ could buy. No matter what you do to make money, someone else always gets a cut!)

Now at first blush you may think this isn’t connected, but when we visited The Kid at the midpoint of camp, he was a vegetarian. I . . kid . . you . . not! I mean, where did we go wrong? Gave him too many granola bars? Let him live a whole week on Cinnamon Taoist Crunch? (Puts a new spin on "You are what you eat" now, doesn’t it?) And another thing, is this an evolutionary step forwards, or backwards? And will it be permanent?

Actually, there is a lot to be said for being a vegetarian. It is healthy. Some say it is better for the environment - cheaper than raising all those cows that generate methane, which is a greenhouse gas, you know! (All roads lead to Rome - All man’s activities lead to greenhouse gases.)

So, here’s a test of your instincts and intuition. How did The Kid become a vegetarian?

Here, let me help you. He’s male, 16, and plays poker and soccer, loves football and all other kinds of macho stuff. So naturally, he likes a challenge. He’ll take a bet. He and some other kids were shooting the breeze. Somewhere along the line, the conversation touched on following a vegetarian diet. Next thing you know, there’s a challenge thrown out as to who can be a vegetarian longer. The Kid takes up the challenge. This is not a big deal, now. The Kid doesn’t have to be a vegetarian-for-life. All he has to do is outlast some other kid! By the time he came home, he was no longer a vegetarian. And, yes, he won. Not money - just won!

Now the camp the Kid was at for first session was up in Barryville, New York, and they had to cope with some heavy rain and some regional flooding. The camp had to be evacuated. First night they spent in an emergency shelter in a school gym, managed by the local Red Cross. Then, for another several days, half the camp, yes, the Kid’s half, had to stay in a hotel. Not just any hotel, but a resort in the Catskills. A little dated, perhaps, but not too shabby, and Kosher, and equipped - the Kid and his pals got to watch world cup soccer during free time. Ah, coping with the elements is not what it used to be. (When I went to Habonim Machaneh in Hermanus, South Africa, we lived in tents, had cold showers, and ate in shelters with no walls!)

However, the Kid did have to cope with some adversity, but only briefly - he lost something to the flooding - his Reefs. Now, for those who may not know, Reefs are very fine flip-flops. They are at their best when they have been worn in, so that they hug the contours of the foot in a very satisfying way. The Kid was really attached to his Reefs. He had worn them to school and to everything else he did, including the school trip to Greece (Thank goodness the school has introduced a uniform, so footware fit for the beach will no longer be the norm - wrong again! The Kid wears oversized rubber clogs instead!.) So, by the time camp was just about upon him, there were holes in his Reefs. He was offered a new pair. He demurred (refused). He got hold of that most versatile invention, the one Tom Hanks put to such good use in Apollo 13, fixing the CO2 filters so they could get back to earth without sinking into a coma - yes! you got it, Duct Tape (or is it Duck tape?) The Kid repaired his holey Reefs with Duct Tape.

So here’s how he lost his preciousss . . . . Reefs. After some wild-water activity, the Kid put his Reefs outside his bunk to dry, and left them there when his group set off on a field trip. Obviously, he needed more substantial footware on the field trip. Well, the storm struck while they were on the road, and the flood waters claimed the Reefs. (Seems poetically appropriate too!)

Well,what to do with his reefs washed away? The Kid looked in his bag, and found his elder brother’s shower sandals, you know, by Adidas, dark green molded-to-foot-shape, a quite comfortable version of plastic or rubber, with a single broad strap across the forefoot. With these in hand, the Kid went looking for someone with reefs . . . found one, and made a trade! In no time at all, the Kid’s feet were back in that familiar comfort of his favorite footware - well-worn-in Reefs. Footcomfort heaven . . . . I tell you!

Now The Kid’s mom and I found this all out between first and second session. Those of us who feel we must, who feel we haven’t showered our children with enough love and attention, who feel we have not expended enough time and resources sending them off to camp, make the trip to Hendersonville, NC. There we wait to dote on them when they arrive by bus from the far north east. We take them to hotels, let them have hot showers, some decent food, and some ZZZZ’s in a clean comfortable bed. Then, the next day, we throw more money away at Walmart and then we drop them off at camp again, and make the long trek home. Shucks, some of us travelled from Florida for the privilege!

It is a special time, though, to catch up with the news from summer camp. Last year The Kid had learnt about Darfur, had seen and discussed the Holocaust documentary "Paperclips", visited Ellis Island, cleared overgrown brush out of an old Jewish cemetary, delivered meals-on-wheels to the elderly and visited with them. You could feel his horizons widening as you talked to him.

This time, he’s full of all these tales, and we are at first aghast. Is this what we saved up for? That the Kid could look for a poker game? Become a card-shark? Then he says he has something else to tell us. He didn’t always go to the regular activities and programming! "What?" we both exclaimed! "You played POKER instead?" "Well, only once or twice, early on," replies The Kid. About the 3 rd or 4th time he was skipping things, he says, he got to thinking about us. And in his head, he says, he hears me, his father, say - "this is not what we send you to camp for. . . "

"You GUILTED ME," he says, I mean more like shouts, as he points at me, "and you weren’t even there!" And so, thanks to an adaptation that dates to around the Exodus from Egypt, The Kid quit his dubious ways and got back on the straight-and-narrow. Now, that is a sign of effective parenting, huh?

All told, The Kid was glad to see us at the midpoint of summer camp. We enjoyed seeing him and his chaverim, relaxed and happy, even after a 10 hour bus ride that began at some ridiculous morning hour. He arrived minus his bags, which had to go on another bus. The next day, when we took him back to camp, we were a bit concerned because one of his bags was still missing. After checking with various people and looking in various places, we still came up empty, so we took him to the camp office to report the missing bag.

The Kid had been glad to see us, but when it was time to go, it was time to go. With his name on the list of "missing bags" (more for us than for him) The Kid herded us gently but firmly back to our van and said goodbye. Then he turned and ran off to rejoin his friends, . . . . with nary a flicker . . . of hesitation . . or guilt.

Simchat Torah

We might have said, "Next year in Jerusalem" at the close of Yom Kippur services, but for Simchat Torah, it's
"This year west of the Ashley . . . "



Right about here . . . (click on image for a better view, or better yet, see us at services!)
Check out New WAM announcements for service times and other happenings.