Out For Summer

"Do you think we are consciously holding back?

(I know I am. The shy girl in me still fears

people will disdain me if they know too much.

Plus, who the heck wants to know *more* about me

than I already reveal? Ha ha.)

~
"Do you prefer personal blogs or topical ones?

I read some of both, but tend to be most intrigued by those

that include personal ruminations and revelations."

These comments got me thinking. Thank you Anne. I hope its OK that your words open this post. If this happened to me I'd have mixed feelings, but mostly I think I'd like that my words inspired thought and were featured in a respected fellow blogger's post.

I always think back to the idea that Hal Holbrook has played Mark Twain longer than Mark Twain did (I like this second link a lot, including the comments, and the link within) - meaning that Mark Twain was portraying a character, parlaying an image. To some extent, in life, we all do that.

~

In certain settings, even more-so when wore a younger man's clothes, I came across as shy. A friend of mine once (OK, twice) on a date told the woman sitting on the other side of the restaurant table that he was like Neil Fleischmann but quieter. Each time they almost fainted - because I had been so quiet with them. I remember being in eighth grade, after doing some stand up on the stage - the principal came up to me shocked. That's not you, he basically said. Yes it is, I basically replied. That was one of many times that I said something following an onstage performance about the real me, something about the reserved me people often see being the act and the me on stage being more true.

That experience with that friend prompted this poem:

With Apologies To Dr. Seuss

To the women with whom

I was uncomfortable on dates

I have this to say

to my ex-future mates

I like people, I do, and

they seem to like me too

So if we didn't work things out,

the problem may be you

That's a bit more caustic than my usual poem tone , and my usual blog tone, and my usual life tone. When people hear blog they assume things. It's natural. Blogs conjure images of angry rants, or political raves, and of anonymity. Anonymity opens a whole other question: does it make a person more honest, or more closed?

I constantly see comedians talking about how they went into to it it order to be honest, to be true. And yet. A famous singer once sang of how he never wanted to be a star. And yet. I believe Emily Dickenson was truthful in not looking for attention.

If my name were Emily
then one day you would find this
in a box beneath my bed
with hundreds others like it

You'd turn your head side to side
and cluck much like a chicken
I'd live on in history
along side the great Whitman

The quality would be superb
the voice one in a million
You'd say I just discovered
the new Emily Dickinson.

I digress, but Jack (not his real name) likes it when I free associate. So, I cant resist going with Emily. Sometimes the language is hard for me, but when I get it - she blows me away. And as I am writing this as the birds chirp and the dawn breaks, this one seems especially right:

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

Sigh. I should read more about Emily, intrigued as I am. In a way it's sad that she didn't live a social life, not to mention not living a life of fame and/or fortune. And yet there's such a purity to her - at least to the her that's portrayed in her poetry.

Anyway, back to your questions Anne. How much do I, do you, does anyone, reveal on a blog? Do we hold back? This fascinates me. I don't know. Blogging is beyond me to understand. I could see having a good conversation about this. Feel free to email me, or to continue to discuss it here in comments. That goes for everyone.

~

What word comes to mind when you hear the word blog? Many associate it with anger, with rants, or with politics. For me it's a branch of writing for me being like breathing. I think one day I will be a published writer, please G-d. For a long time I studied Torah and shared Torah and one day while hemming and hawing if I wanted the title or not I became a rabbi. I think this blog may be a bridge to my becoming a writer with books under my belt. if you turn it upside down and shake it out I think thee are several books in this blog - none of them political or angry.

~

I like personal blogs. I like the human face of things. Politics and sports don't interest me much, until you get to the honest personal profiles. Then I'm in. I like the way, you, Anne share, and Miriam, and Pearl, and Quinn Cummings, and Shoshana. I like the connections I've made through this blog, they mystify me.

~

I read two things today that used the word abyss. One of them was an email from a friend. In response to a poem I shared, he wrote; "Those of us whose souls will never find, in this world, that place of utter tranquility always fear the abyss." Then the word came up again in The World To Come By Dara Horn. In that scene an almost born baby stands before the tree of life with a space between them and with his eyes follows the tree down into an abyss.

~

I just finished reading this book. I envisioned writing a whole post on it, but can't resist saying something now. I've held back long enough and it hasn't been easy, but I committed to not mentioning the book till I was done.

~

Last week I heard Dara Horn at a reading. She said that when she looks out at an audience at a reading she sometimes thinks, "That's so sad - so many people who can't read." She felt comfortable with the crowd and decided to generously share an unpublished short story. My two cents - she should publish it. After reading she fielded questions both formally and informally.

s

I went up and told her that I loved the book. True. I didn't think it was relevant to say that I had 50 pages left and was a slow reader even when I loved a book. As I finished it just now I felt some awkwardness, realizing that my questions were answered in her postscript. My questions had to do with how much was imagined, how much real. The question is a natural one because two of the main characters were Chagal and Der Nistar. They each wrote autobiographies from which she culled quite a bit.

^

Dreams stand apart from
responsibilities that
run away from dreams

~

A piece of fiction writing that touched me, perhaps more than any other I ever read, is In Dreams Begin Responsibilities. I used to recommend it to everyone I could. I didn't get that there was some reason why it clicked for me and that other things would hit others for their reasons. For most people that Delmore Schwartz piece didn't shake them, didn't resonate the way it did for me.

Sarah Polley adapted a short story into a film. She explains in her into to the new edition of the story (The Bear went Over The Mountain, which became the film Away from Her) that the way she read was colored by who she was. "The person next to me, who may also have been reading that week's New Yorker on the plane from Reykjavik to London," she writes, "could have easily read another story entirely."

Please G-d, one day I'd like to make a film version of In Dreams Begin Responsibilities. That dream inspired the haiku above. People talk about chasing dreams. In truth, you have to chase responsibilities.

I'm jumping around. Back to The World To Come. I found this book to truly be a heartbreaking work of staggering genius, for real. Themes are introduces and then reapear in the most beautiful of ways. Time flows in all direction. There's lots of birth and death and real life in between. One of the reasons I read it slowly is that I kept was relishing the poetry, the gorgeous writing, the stories within stories and images overlapping images. Toward the end I read even slower in part for those same reasons, in part because I didn't want it to end. Also, I was afraid. I was afraid the end would tie up all the loose pieces, wouldn't be satisfying, would be a let down.

h

Toward the end it's like she started all over again. The latter part could stand alone in terms of quality and strength. Just as the middle could. Or the beginning. This book had me from start to finish.

~

It also had the people of Bend, Oregon riveted. That city chose it as the book they'd all read and they had her come and read and speak. They weren't into it because of it's Jewish themes. That's part of the greatness of the book, it's universality in terms of quality of writing and its themes. Perhaps one day I'll write more about this book.

g

I've posted it before - but can't resist posting it again. This really speaks to me, and since Emily's already here twice, lets make it a chazakah:

~

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

~

Speaking of poetry, here's a few of my own recent poetic musings:

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Kadish

~

Sanctify G-d's name

Speedily in quick time

It will be holy

~

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As for me, my prayer

True for Dovid, true for me

We each have our prayer

~

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VaYishlach, Beshalach, Shlach

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A. Three tales of sending

Coincidence? I think not

Consider what it means

~

B. "And he sent" and then

"While he was sending"

And then, simply, "Send"

~

~

Beautiful person

I hear it; I yearn for it

Wonder what it means

~

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Multiple choice test

Eyes on your own paper please

Story of our lives

~

PS - School is now empty of its close to 700 students and most of its many staff members. If you're not a teacher, imagine having your job end and and restart all anew every year. If that sounds like an automatic reason to want to be a teacher, please come on board, you are needed.

~

The first day of school -

the day before yesterday,

which was the last day