Nobody Puts This Baby in Any Corner, Not Even Usher!

Why is it that when I want to use the iconic 1987 film "Dirty Dancing" as a point of illustration, all the good videos have disabled embedding, which means that I can not easily include the video as a linkable image here?





 I fully believe in protecting Intellectual Property, but it only works against Lions Gate Films, the distributor of "Dirty Dancing."

 Oh well, that's not the point of this post...

 Here are some links to some clips of the great movie.

 Nobody puts baby in a corner:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28A9Jgo92GQ

 The final dance scene:
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpmILPAcRQo


My point is, again thanks to trusty spin class that keeps me on my toes with new music, I get to hear a most atrocious tune entitled "Dirty Dancer" by Enrique Iglesias and Usher.  The only good thing about hearing this song that hit all sorts of charts in 2010 and 2011 is that it reminded me of the aforementioned 80s movie, produced on a skeleton budget and yet a blockbuster nonetheless.

Honestly?  Am I *that* old fashioned that I think this is awful and an embarrassment to the way popular culture has journeyed?  I was embarrassed when I saw the original "Dirty Dancing" with my mom in the movie theater, and obviously that level of bumping and grinding was peanuts compared to the near-porn that appears in the video below.  I present this video again only for pure illustration purposes (as in my previous post) and do not recommend watching it if you want to stay positive. I watched just a few seconds of the pole dancers to know that I'd had enough, but I guess it gives me pause to realize that in a couple of years when my children have free reign of their computer time they will be able to watch everything and anything.

Smartening up your children before they get to this narrishkeit and educating them as to what is good and what is not good to view is the key.




Check out Jennifer Grey's father, Joel.  Now, that's entertainment!

Know Your Zosos from Your Ziljians

Everyone from Bob Lefsetz to your brother has lamented how bad the new music is today.  It doesn't take a rock star to come to this realization.

Ah, spin class, the trusty go-to for exposure to new music.  Spinning today to LMFAO's "Party Rock Anthem," which hit #1 on charts last year throughout Europe, the UK, the US, New Zealand and Australia, got me wondering:

What the heck is up this dreck?

The lyrics:  empty, offensive and below fraternity house antics.
The electronic beat:   catchy but gets annoying.
And the chutzpah to make a Zeppelin reference.
Where, exactly, is the skilled musicianship?
Nary a drum kit to be heard.
Oh, right, that is the definition of electronica.
And, shouldn't everyone in this tune be doing the Hollywood Shuffle instead?  Now, that is quality shufflin'.
The part that bothers me is the thought of the millions of kids listening to this as their early exposure to music.
Oy.


I don't even want to watch this video.
But for pure illustration purposes, here it is.




Ok, I do like to focus on the positive.  I appreciate the club kid influence as evident in some of the outfits in the video and the dude with the big fro's huge white glasses, reminiscent of Laura Biogottis from the 80s.  I like the acting in the beginning.  And, nice fancy steps at the end of the video.   That's about it.

Still, I continue to lobby for real music like Kashmir in spin class.
Robert Plant.  Now there's a rock star.




Then I can envision myself as Jennifer Jason Leigh in "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" and rock it out on the spin bike like it's 1982.

(they cut out at 2:00 when Kashmir comes on the scene.)
This scene is the reason why I bought Led Zeppelin IV on tape, one of my earliest music purchases.

And we all know that Kashmir ain't to be found on that album!
Oh, Cameron Crowe, the film's screenwriter, is a genius culture maker of my generation.




Good thing the Allmans let him tag along as a teenager.

It sounds so cliche to think it was all better when you were a teenager, but I do think that when it comes to music and popular culture, I was better off without the acronym and certainly the band LMFAO.

Davy Jones, Goodbye, Let's Meet the Walrus

Listening to Soundcheck with John Schaefer on NPR right now, and I can't believe that I missed the news from last week that Davy Jones passed away at age 66.  I must have been raging the Purim festivities too much which kept me out of the loop.  As a great contributor to 60s popular music, he will be missed.  Not that I watched the Monkees when it first came out.  I was too young.

I also can't believe that Stango doesn't recall this episode of the Brady Bunch with Davy Jones.  It was always one of my favorites.

Here is where Marcia tries to bust into the recording studio to confirm that Davy will perform at her prom, only to be turned away.




Here is where Davy comes to the Brady house and meets her, finally, and satisfying every rock star's dream.




All thanks to the Beatles, the Monkees were a cultivated, made-for-TV band inspired by the Beatles that actually turned into something.

Speaking of which, I played one of my favorites, "I am the Walrus," for the kinderlach today.  When I asked their feedback, Concealed Light replied, "He said I am the egg man."  We all agreed it is weird and different.

When I asked about the line "sitting on a cornflake," I lost them.




Finally,  you should watch this pretty awesome animated interview with John Lennon called "I Met the Walrus" which is actually the reel-to-reel interview done by Jerry Levitan as a 14 year old when he snuck into Lennon's Toronto hotel room in 1969.

A Rangers and Flyers Fan All at the Same Time

Growing up, we were Rangers fans. My dad had season tickets in the yellow section of Madison Square Garden.  My grandparents lived on the same street as one of the Rangers and had a neighborly friendship with him.  My dad also had a college friend from Canada, a country where hockey is practically a birthright and is called Hockey Night in Canada.  Let's say it was ingrained from early on.

My brother, the Rangers fan and hockey player himself , with my sister Reba.  Early 1980s.

I went to two games during my childhood since my dad only had two seats and the "real" hockey fan (i.e. my brother) in the family had priority on the extra.  Those were good games.  Thanks for bringing me, dad!

Thank you to my brother who saved this stub my from dad's yellow seats.  It was a tie, Rangers Islanders 2-2 in overtime

Early on I learned the French-Canadian hockey phrase "slap de puck" and the Rangers' cheer "Potvin Sucks."  This not-so-nice taunt originated when Islander Denis Potvin collided with Ranger Ulf Nilsson in a 1979 game, causing a broken ankle and shortening of Nilsson's hockey career.  This incident occurred around the same time Potvin's wife came forward with allegations of abuse, so the rowdy, obnoxious Rangers fans really ate it up whether or not it was proven in court.  It is interesting that the previously-referenced NY Times article alludes to "Potvin Sucks" as an "uglier version" without getting into the discussion if it was true.  I do not know the truth and have no access to court documents.  Yet, the cheer is  a part of Rangers history and is worth knowing about, even if it is considered to be very rude to chant it at the Garden, or really anywhere for that matter.







Keep in mind I don't watch hockey anymore.  It was more of an osmosis experience:  it was on tv as a young girl, so I watched it.  No turning the channel the shows I wanted.

Now I live in Philadephia, and I want to be a Flyers fan without giving up my Rangers connection.
There is no way we will start rooting for the Phillies or Eagles, so at least we can go with hockey and develop some local loyalty.

Here are the things I know about hockey:

I have heard of Bobby Orr and Mario Lemieux and Brian Leetch and of course Wayne Gretzky.
For a while, I had a Bobby Orr hockey card in my dresser (that's what ya get for having an older brother who played and loved hockey).
I know about power plays.
I know about the penalty box.
I know about slap shots.
I know that Rangers fans love the fights.  Isn't that part of the game?
I know that 1 and 30 are traditional goalie numbers.
I know about the Bauer hockey gear company.
I know that NHL players prior to 1980something didn't have to wear helmets.

But I don't really know about hockey.

Here are the things I now know about the Flyers:


I learned that there is Rangers-Flyers rivalry.  (And all these years I thought it was just with the Islanders!)
I learned about the Winter Classic.
In the mid-90s I saw a Phish concert in the Philly Spectrum, where the Flyers played.
That's about all the Flyers knowledge I have.

And yet,

I have long been attracted to the Flyers logo.
How could this be if we were Rangers fans?
Maybe because black and orange were my high school colors.
Maybe because it is aesthetically pleasing, and good design speaks to me.
Maybe because, compared with the newer hockey teams, it is old school and I remember seeing it as a young girl and liking it.

My friend Adam at a Flyers game this season

Can't I be fans of both?

A couple of years ago I noticed people at Phish concerts at Madison Square Garden wearing Flyers gear, more so than Islanders or Rangers, which would be more appropriate for being in a New York venue.  I thought, "Wow, these music fans not only have the same great taste in current rock-n-roll as me but they like the same great NHL logo, too!  What are the chances!"  Oh, Rachel how innocent and uneducated you were!

My sister Reba told me that Trey, the lead guitarist, is a Flyers fan, and there has been a lot of talk in the past about his connection to the team. A lot of those folks were wearing it in allegiance to Trey's preference.  Poseurs!






Stanley Cup playoffs begin in about a month.
It's time to slap de puck.

That's What I Said...Booby Traps

How can I resist!


 
Phish Summer Tour 2012 Announcement from Phish on Vimeo.


Jonathan Fishman, you are the one and only.


And in case you had a jonesing due to the blog title post...

Music in Preschool

If you haven't yet caught Portlandia, here is your chance, you music lovers with young children!




Fine, it's a lot of punk references (and as you might know I am into classic rock and jam bands), but it is too funny to hide from you.

Did you catch the recent profile of Carrie Brownstein in The New Yorker a few weeks ago?

Jan Berenstain, 88, Co-Creator of Berenstain Bears, Passes Away

The wife of the husband-wife duo that created the beloved childrens book series The Berenstain Bears, which teach about ethics and morals, has passed away at the age of 88.

Further to my discussion of the Berenstains a few weeks ago, research revealed that the Berenstains were secular and the books they wrote for most of their career were based on their secular ethical values.  Jan was a Christian and Stan was a secular Jew.  Their son Mike became closer to his Christianity and, in 2008, signed a deal with a publisher of Christian books for spiritual and faith-based books.  So, that explains what I saw in the supermarket that day.  I was pleased to know there was no hidden message (since, well, I am Jewish) in the books my sister had as a little girl.

Why was I even registering the Berenstains a few weeks ago, and why did I blog about them?

May Jan and Stan Berenstain now enjoy life together in Gan Eden (garden of eden).  Baruch dayan emet (blessed is the truthful ruler).

From the LA Times obituary:  Jan Berenstain displays a copy of the first book, left, that she and her husband, Stan Berenstain, created and their second book, which was the first to actually call the characters Berenstain Bears. (Mel Evans/Associated Press/January 25, 2011)

Paradise Isn't That Home Across the Road

Always being thankful looking for the good I have in my own life is something I am constantly striving towards.  And worrying about my own daled amot (life's sphere).  I heard this idea reflected in a tune this morning at the gym.

"Well, the moral of the story
The moral of the song
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong
So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin'
Help him with his load
And don't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road."

-Bob Dylan, "The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest."



Thanks for the reminder, Bob, Jerry and Dave.

Vitamin H...Kind of Like an Amp Goes to 11, But It Works!

You've heard about Vitamin C, Vitamin B, Vitamin E...

but Vitamin H???

I bought this duty free in Tegel Airport duty free a few years ago

My nails are feeling a little brittle.  Cuticles are peeling.  I broke out my shmancy Bio-H-Tin Nail Cream (nagelcreme) that I bought in Germany a few years ago, and my cuticles have relief.  What exactly is Vitamin H, anyway?

It is actually called Biotin, and is a complex B vitamin.  According to this online medical dictionary, it no longer goes by the name Vitamin H.  It is a "colorless, crystalline, water-soluble B complex vitamin that acts as a coenzyme in fatty acid production and in the oxidation of fatty acids and carbohydrates...Rich sources are egg yolk, beef liver, kidney, unpolished rice, brewer's yeast, peanuts, cauliflower, and mushrooms." 

The University of Maryland states  "very weak evidence suggests that biotin supplements may improve thin, splitting, or brittle toe and fingernails," but I applied the cream directly to the cuticle, and I feel a difference already.  So, if you want to just chalk it up to psychological effects, so be it.  Anyway, there are a whole host of things that exist in nature, help people get better, and yet have no scientific evidence to back up the proof.  If it works, I use it. Sorry, Terps, you guys can't convince me.  Or German skin care professionals, evidently.

When I heard about Vitamin H, of course I thought, wait, this is going like to the next level, but in a good way.  Sure, I have heard of Vitamin K, but only for its controversial use in newborns.

And going to the next level is classic Spinal Tap.

Obviously Rob Reiner and Christopher Guest don't want folks to embed this clip, since every single clip of the Amp scene that goes to 11 on YouTube of this scene is disabled, so I ask you, dear reader, to click any of these links and you will see the awesome scene.  C'mon, Rob, why are you being such a meathead?

Vitamin H not only goes to 11 but if you take out the little horizontal line in the letter, it actually IS ELEVEN!!!  You do know that I love the 11:11 phenomenon, right?

Since I referenced the Maryland Terps, which is an abbreviation for their mascot the Terrapins, at least I can leave you with a classic Terrapin Station by The Grateful Dead.  Jerry and his friends haven't disabled any embedding, and that plays to the spirit of the band, which always was about sharing.





And, Rob Reiner, I apologize for relying too obviously on your past by calling you a meathead for not allowing video embedding by the little folk like me who take time out of their busy schedules to write their blogs.  I am sure you are a great guy.  Maybe you will enjoy this Meatstick from last year as a peace offering.  And for any of you who kept reading to the end of this lengthy blog (make yourself known with a comment below!), I reiterate that I am not writing a Phish blog

Winter is Almost Gone, But Not Snowglobes

With winter almost gone, and all this talk about Austria, Christopher Plummer and The Sound of Music, there is no time like the present to talk about a beloved object of many that never goes out of style:

The Snow Globe.

The New Yorker had a funny article a couple of months ago about school cancellations in the winter.  It was accompanied by this illustration, which got me thinking it is about time I talked about snow globes and what I learned about them on a trip to Vienna a few years ago.

 They are called schneekugeln in Austrian.

That might look foreign to you, dear English speaker, but think about it:

Schnee:  snow
Kugeln:  mixed up

Like, a kugel you might eat be it noodle, potato, apple, is a mixture of a lot of ingredients.  When the snow gets shaken inside a snow globe, it gets all mixed up.  See, German isn't so hard!

According to its Wiki entry, snow globes were founded in France around the turn of the last century.  I find that hard to believe, after having visited what is purported to be the original snow globe factory, owned by Edwin Perzy III, in Vienna.

Mr. Perzy showed me around his factory and showroom, and told me that it is because of Vienna's high quality water that the snow globes produced there work so well.  This is a family business, and they have special-made snow globes for big events like President Clinton's inauguration.  The little figurines inside get outsourced to small home-based artisans.  Mostly everything used in the snow globe's production is Austrian-produced (I forget to be sure, but I believe is either the glass globe or the black base that is produced in Belgium)

I bought one for my daughter based on an Austrian fairy tale.  A poor girl goes out to the mountains and everything she touches turns to gold.  So, in this snow globe, the snow is gold flakes.  I have yet to find out the name of the fairy tale.  Mr. Perzy told me but I didn't write it down.  Austria is a small place so it's not like this story is a Barnes & Noble best seller.

This is the one I brought back for my daughter.  Unfortunately, the other two I brought back were used as baseballs by my then-2 year old, and he smashed them to the floor.

I wonder why the Wikipedia entry doesn't mention the Austrian connection.  I imagine that the Perzy family is hard-working and they don't have the time or interest to correct the Wiki entry.  I do know that if you look at any well-made snow globe these days and flip it over and see it is Made in Austria, you will know you are getting an original.

The Snow Globe selection was immense!

Why does any of this matter, you ask?

 Because I seek out truth and knowledge, and I feel good knowing that I was where it all started!  And now you know one more piece of trivia.  Who knows, if you meet Bill Clinton one day, you can ask him all about his schneekugel.

I took a subway and a street trolley to get to this off-the-beaten track location in Vienna, and boy am I glad that I went!  Next time you are planning to visit Vienna, give them a visit!

Original Vienna Snowglobes
Schummanngasse 87
A-1170 Vienna
Austria
0043(1) 486 43 41-9
snowglobe@aon.at

And remember, folks, I received no payment for this review.  I just wrote it because I wanted to!  But if the Perzy family wants to send me a thank-you with a schneekugel as a token of their appreciation, I won't say no.

Edelweiss Pays Off

Congratulations to Christopher Plummer on his first Academy Award!

I still haven't seen the film The Beginners, but I did blog about a book I received over New Year's based on the film and I am forever grateful for this limited edition art book which I was told was given to me because I knew a thing or two about culture and stuff like that.  I was pretty flattered.

Did you know that Austrians get a real kick out the fact that many Americans think that Edelweiss, which Plummer sang in "The Sound of Music," is a national Austrian folk anthem?   As a child, my friend Rachel's dad Larry used to sing that one at their shabbat dinner table and on long drives up to their family's farm house.  Good times, good times.

One day I will share here some of the other things I learned on a trip to Vienna a few years ago.

Until then...







 And from the Golden Globes about a month or so ago

 

Purple People

This video comes from my friend Pesach, who was recently hired as a Spirit Guide for Spiritual Judaism.  Forget any pretense you might have about what that might mean or look like to you, and just look beyond the barriers because I think this is good stuff.

Two people in my life who I have felt close to both love the color purple.  That would be my friend Mik the Fish and Purple Girl.  I hope they watch this video and like it as much as me.

I love that comparison of am segulah, a whole nation, as a Purple nation, since the Hebrew word for purple is segol.  Pesach is a wise, wise man and I am glad to know him even a little bit.

I also love that my real brother-in-law's name (in Hebrew) is Pesach.

So, what is your take?
Do you think Adam Purple, ultimate squatter gardener, would be into Pesach's message?  I have no idea if he is Jewish, but I don't think that matters.  I think he would like Pesach's vibe and message..

Don't Worry Be Happy

Today is the Rosh Hodesh (New Moon) and the start of the Jewish month of Adar.  Purim is around the corner, which means it's time to get happy!  Easier said than done.  I plan to do that with getting myself to the Nars counter at Saks this morning where they have a special event, makeup artists, blah blah blah.

My friend and teacher Sara Esther Crispe has some good ideas, too.  Probably better ideas than mine.   Sara Esther is an wonderful speaker and very easy to listen to (for someone like me, at least).  She offers up a great lecture on finding the good and finding the joy.

I can't embed the video, but click here, it is worth it.

In the meantime, I will listen to the classic Bobby McFerrin tune.

Boy, I forgot how much I love Bill Irwin and Robin Williams in that video.

Do little kids realize that Mr. Noodle is a comic genius?

Grandpa Norman, Minnie the Moocher and Sabrina

Everyone could use a Grandpa Norman.  No, he wasn't my grandpa, but he was to my friend Aryeh.  Grandpa Norman would have been 100 today and sounds like he was a lovely man.  According to Aryeh, Grandpa Norman was "a lifelong Chicagoan and South Sider and proud Jew who understood, better than anyone I have ever known, the nobility and dignity of honest work."

Call me culturally ignorant, but I never watched the Blues Brothers from start to finish.  Growing up, that was more my brother's department.  Later, I learned that my husband Stango did his own time on stage with his boyhood friend, nicknamed "Famous", as their own Belushi-Akroyd impersonators.  His family's 1977 yellow Volvo station was nicknamed "The Bluesmobile."  I owned the cassette tape, though, and listened to it frequently.

Which is why Grandpa Norman's favorite song by "Minnie the Moocher" Cab Calloway resonated with me.  I know that Calloway is an American icon, and yet I feel quite the uneducated soul to not know too much about him.  Especially since I purport to love music.  It is one of those things my mom would be surprised at, like, "Wow, Rachel, I am surprised that you didn't know that."

So, now I know that Cab Calloway was a huge jazz musician.  

Anyway, here is Cab, Old School:




Here is Cab in 1980





And, back to 1933, Calloway's popular tune "Reefer Man" which appeared in the film International House.
Check out the wonderful tap dancing which I feel personally connected to since I took tap for many years.  Love the beautiful clarinets and the white tails outfits of the band.  It's all too much!  (Note:  this is just another tune by Calloway which I happen to think is quite the entertaining bit, not particularly a Grandpa Norman pick, lest you get the wrong idea about Aryeh's grandpa)







I think I would have liked Grandpa Norman.  He also loved this tune...



...Sabrina should be required viewing for every breathing soul.  Hollywood doesn't get much better than Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart.

If you have gotten this far, I should let you know that my daughter, Concealed Light, has entered the room and told me to stop playing the music.

High Priestess of Soul Singing Land of Milk-n-Honey

Just finished a frozen medjool date as a late-night snack.  So it is appropriate to post this one:

Thank you to my sister's husband's brother-in-law's mother-in-law (by easy logic you should have quickly shortened that confusing connection to this woman is also my sister's mother-in-law) for sharing this. The woman who shared this did go to Woodstock, after all, so it's gotta be good!





 And here is the article in Jewcy from a few years ago that explains it all.

Nina Simone passed away nearly 9 years ago and was known as the "high priestess of soul."

In case you didn't catch the connection with the intro to this blog post about medjool dates, the translation for "Eretz zavat halav u'dvash" is Land of milk and honey.  But the honey isn't bee honey but the honey that comes from the date tree.

Jonathan Adler Isn't Miesian. And That's Okay

The simple excuse for not getting myself until last weekend to the Jonathan Adler store in Old City is that I am new to town.  Just ignore that I moved here more than six months ago.

You would think someone like me who loves Bauhaus minimalism, midcentury design and pines for a Barcelona Chair wouldn't be into all of Jonathan's colors.  Oh no!  I am!  I am!  I am!

Everything that I have read about Jonathan's great style is true from the looks of this fabulous shop.  Jonathan is a design sweetheart.  Sure, he speaks to the current zeitgeist of reclaiming trendy stuff from the 70s (like needlepoint pillows), but I know he will continue to wow the design world when tastes change.  Stango, who is my husband and sometimes a pessimist, said it is all too obvious and wasn't as impressed as me.

Like, when I showed him this awesome wall from the back of the shop, he wasn't too psyched:

I love that quotation!

You know what, Stango?  Take two happy chic pills and get back to me in the morning.

I loved the wallpaper in the junior section downstairs which caters to the younger set.   It reminded me of the wallpaper from my own 1970s room as a baby, but after texting her the image of it from the store, my mom disagreed.  Hopefully I will upload a photo of it here one day and you will see where I was going with that.  At least nice women in the shop gave me a sample.  What was I gonna do with the sample?

With glue and a blank book, in an instant I made a cute notebook.   Yay for utilitarianism!

Finally, at the entrance of the shop, they were selling Simon Doonan's book.  In case you didn't get the memo, Jonathan and Simon are married.  Simon is also a design guy.  He is a big guy at Barney's.  Haven't I already told you somewhere on my blog that I love W Magazine and that's where I get a lot of good info?  But remember to read the articles more than study the fashion.  Don't focus too much on the photos, other than for art's sake.  I'm not joking, BTW.  There's a lot of narishkeit (nonsense) there.

if you go to his website www.simondoonan.net/home you can buy it there!

I guess if it is your own store, you can sell your husband's stuff up front and center.

A Letter to Deborah Feldman

Dear Deborah,

We have a lot more in common than you might initially think.  We are both moms, Jewish and wear funky glasses.  I often drove past the campus of Sarah Lawrence College when I lived in Da Bronx, which was just a stone's throw from your school.  I don't watch much television, so I am grateful to my mother for pointing out your appearance last week on "The View" where you promoted your book Unorthodox:  The Scandalous Rejection of my Hasidic Roots.  Somewhat tongue-in-cheek, I sometimes describe myself as "Ultra Unorthodox" since I have difficulty in labeling my Jewish practice.  I hope to read your book soon.




 First, I commend you on your journey.  I can not fathom the strength you garnered to separate from your upbringing.  Kol hakavod (kudos) and a hearty yasherkoach (your strength should continue) on your accomplishments, as they surely are filled with overcoming tremendous obstacles.  I am fascinated with the "Ex-O" (Ex-Orthodox Jewish) community, and loved attending Chulent gatherings on Thursday nights with my husband, Stango, when I lived in New York City.  We met great people there.

Second, your poise and presence is so impressive.  Knowing a bit about Hasidic life, I would never have pegged you as from Villiamsburg (Williamsburg).  You seem like you could be a college friend who lived in The Towers in Madison (a private dorm where a lot of East Coast Jewish kids live...lest they intermingle with the cheeseheads, or local Wisconsin residents).  Or, you could have been that camp friend who met me in the city for frozen yogurt at 40 Carrots in Bloomies' basement before this ridiculous Pinkberry-inspired froyo craze (alas, if they only made it cholov yisroel, J&J would be doing the community a service!  Who knows...maybe there is something I don't know?).

In other words, you seem smart, contemporary, and with-it.  Your interactions with Barbara Walters were nothing but professional and polished.

You mentioned that you have a lot of cultural catching-up to do.  Feel free to check out my blog for a lot of really good cultural references!  I'm no Jon Stewart, but a lot of friends like what I have to say.

Finally, as a fellow shvester (sister), I hope that you maintain a connection to your Yiddishkeit (Judaism).  I would say the same thing to my real sister, Reba, despite the pain that I knew or didn't know about.  Of course, it is all easier said than done, as the saying goes.  I don't know how much contact you have with people like me, but I offer an invitation to you and your son to spend Shabbes mit mein ganse mishpucha (Shabbat with my whole phamily) here in Philly.

A zei g'zunt (Take care),

Rachel

Chai Lifeline Makes Dreams Reality For Children with Illness

This beautiful performance from a few days ago of Luke Weber, a boy who has been battling cancer for several years, and Matisyahu is not to be missed

 


From the YouTube comments below this video, it seems that Chai Lifeline made this performance happen.  Kol HaKavod (kudos) to this wonderful organization whose mission is to" restore the light of childhood to children whose innocence ended when life-threatening or lifelong illness was diagnosed."

It seems as though these days I keep hearing stories of young children afflicted with serious illness.  More so than ever.  Just the other day I learned of a friend's  1 1/2 year old nephew who was diagnosed with a cancer that is surrounding his spinal chord.

I'm not sure what is happening, but I pray for a complete and speedy recovery for Luke Weber.  And offer a great thanks to Chai Lifeline for all of its efforts to bring happiness back into the lives of countless sweet children.

To life.

Ghetto Love To You, Daniel Son

Leave it to spin class to make me feel old.  I am not talking about knee pain, muscle soreness or not being able to keep up with the peppy 20-something instructors.  As I frequently mention, spin class keeps me in check with new music.  Even if it isn't exactly my speed, it gives me a sense of being down with popular culture.  I am not the hippest of mamas, but I know more music than the average Whole Foods shopper.   So when Karl Wolf's "Ghetto Love," which samples Peter Cetera's "Glory of Love," played on the speakers at this morning's class, I was instantly reminded that my memory is going everywhere but up.

 

As long as you didn't live on some hippy commune or in Satmar Williamsburg, if you came of age in the United States during the 80s, you most likely recognize the familiar refrain "I am the man who will fight for your honor, I'll be the hero that you're dreaming of."  It was in a really popular movie that I saw a lot.  The problem was that I could not recall which one.  Or who sang it.  And I knew that I saw this movie many, many times over.  I kept knocking on my brain and no one answered.  I was sure that I slow-danced to this tune with my first boyfriend at a BBYO Beau-Sweetheart Dance.  I most likely cried many tears to it while listening on a Maxell II-S mix tape entitled "Rachel's Love Songs."  And yet, I.Could.Not.Remember.  Oy, I thought to myself, now I am really turning into my mother.

The thing that really got my goat was that none of the other women in spin class could place it either.  But for a different reason.  Not because their brains have been fried from working, cooking, cleaning, homework-checking, schedule-managing, and all the other stuff that comes along with parenting.  These women were obviously younger than me, and I realized that their lack of recognition was likely because they were still in diapers at the time of the debut of "Glory of Love."

As we were all toweling off at the end of class, one woman Shazamed it and reported that the original song was by the band Chicago.  Ah, this made sense to me.  It did, after all, SOUND like Chicago.  Thank God for Wikipedia to inform me later on that Peter Cetera released this song as a solo shortly after he left Chicago.

To the rescue came a guy who was spinning in the front row and whom I will call Daniel.  He was clearly closer to my generation than the young women I previously asked:

"Karate Kid, all the way," Daniel said.  Phew!  What relief!





But he didn't get it fully on-target.

Daniel Son, it was Karate Kid II.  Time for us Gen Xers to get a brain check.

Spin Class Song Request

One reason I go to spin class is to get motivated by a great instructor with great music and who pushes me in a way I can't do on my own.  Usually the music is new stuff that I would otherwise never hear.  Even if most of it is dreck (unworthy garbage) I appreciate the sentiment, because it keeps me current with popular culture.  But for whatever reason, there is a thought that new music is the only music that people want to hear in spin class and can't grind it out to anything else.

Not me!

Spin instructors of the world:  bring on the classic rock.  Where are Pink Floyd, Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin among the your playlists?   I'm not talking Stairway to Heaven, which is slow and drawn out, but tunes like Money, Rag Doll, and Kashmir could get my cadence to 130 just as well as any Jay-Z or Rihanna tune  (not those artists produce garbage-like music; I actually like their stuff.  It's the other dreck that I am talking about).

One instructor told me that jam band tunes are too long, and preferred spin songs are no more than 4 minutes.  Check out this very rocking instrumental Frankenstein, originally by the Edgar Winter Group, and covered by my favorite band.





But if you think it is too jammy, just cut it short.  No one would mind.

Positive Vibrations...Jah Love, Protect Us

What with all these Bob Marley references the past week, ya'd think that I was fully into reggae.  Au contrare, my friend.  I really don't know too much about reggae.  That would be my sister Reba's department.  But, as you know, I love Pandora, and when I listen to the Grateful Dead channel, I get a lot of good reggae mixed in there.  Go figure.

And in case you didn't know, when he sings Jah Love, it is the same exact thing as Yah Love.  And if you are about Ahavat Yisrael, you know that the all-loving God (Jah or Yah, depending if you are Jamaican or Jewish or Jehovah's Witness or Some Other) is universal.  Jews:  apologies if you were offended that I didn't write that as YKVK, G-d, G!d, or any incarnation thereof.  Just not my thang.  See, I will do it again.  God.  So there (sticking my tongue out).  Remember that tune from last summer that I blogged about, Ya'alili?  Same message, same deal.  Different language, different culture, different hair style, different accent.

But we's all da same breathing human beings!






I am all about the positive energy, and Bob puts it out there in the best way possible.

Just one small quotation from "Positive Vibrations":

If you get down and you quarrel everyday,
You're saying prayers to the devils, I say.  Wo-oh-ooh!
Why not help one another on the way?
Make it much easier.  (Just a little bit easier).

Tibetan Prayer Flags: Shalom, Janis Joplin.

You've seen 'em, but never before with Jewish prayers.  Tibetan prayer flags are those colorful fabric squares that usually contain traditional Buddist prayers.  A few years ago we saw a Jewish interpretation of them at our friend Jonathan and Gail's very beautiful home, and convinced them to bring one back for us on their next visit to Israel.

from www.tevelbtzedek.org     The prayer is in Hebrew and comes from Rav Natan of Nemerov

The flags are produced by Tevel B'tzedek, which is an Israel-based non-profit organization promoting social and environmental justice and founded by Rabbi Micha Odenheimer.  They do good work in Haiti and Nepal, helping impoverished people benefit from programs addressing education, health, sustainable agriculture and more.  Israelis love to backpack through Nepal after their army service, so it is a win-win.

Finally the flags are available through Tevel B'tzedek directly!

They are $15 each.

You can email tevelflags@gmail.com directly to order as well.

Tell them the Whole Phamily sent you, and please remember that I have no arrangements with any of the products I promote.  At the moment I am doin' it from the goodness of my heart, and because I have a lot of love for chevre (friends).  And I didn't mean goat cheese.

But with all of my good ideas, I do hope to monetize in the near future.

Suggestions?





Kudos to my 11th grade English teacher for playing that one for us on the sleepy Wednesday before Thanksgiving weekend.

Thanks, McWilliams.

I'm Hot, Sticky Sweet, From My Head To My Feet

Not really much of a Def Leppard fan, that blog title post comes from their popular tune "Pour Some Sugar On Me" which played over and over on the radio when I was in high school.  But what I want to talk about is not sugar, but artificial sweetener.

Specifically, Sucralose.

Unless you are a chemist, healthy-foods advocate, industry expert, or just someone who reads labels, you likely didn't know that.

Some people will only settle for brand names.  Not in my kitchen!

There it is folks:  Splenda.  As its byline says:  The No Calorie Sweetener.  I guess Sucralose isn't sexy.

Up until recently, I pulled the ole' Starbucks-owes-me-something-since-they-overcharge-for-their-beverages routine and snagged a wad of Splendas at each visit.  We all justify it by convincing ourselves that everyone does it (don't they?) and therefore it's built into the cost of their products.  But after thinking about it seriously, I concluded that it is stealing.  No matter how many little old ladies in Delray Beach take Splenda packets, it still is wrong.  Furthermore, I don't drink coffee and rarely get myself to a Starbucks in the first place.

So, I found myself in the predicament of having to (gasp) actually buy Splenda.

Not a huge fan of artificial anyfood, I try to curtail my use of Splenda.  I admit I do use it at times, but I try instead to use maple syrup or Agave nectar as sweeteners for my hot beverages.  This is coming from someone who wrote a college paper for her Chemical Science of Our Daily Lives course (one of the two science/math courses my liberal arts curriculum required for graduation) on Artificial Sweeteners, starting with Cyclymate (now banned in the United States) and ending, at the time, with aspartame (Equal).

But I didn't want to buy Splenda after years of Starbucks petty theft and certainly didn't want to spend top dollar on it.

And I didn't want to support the company itself which produces Splenda:  Tate & Lyl since I think it's healthier to use a real sugar product (like, sugar).

So, I bought the generic instead, and my guests will just have to deal.  It is my way of sticking it to Corporate America.  Or Corporate Britian in this case.  I now have a box brimming full of generic Sucralose that I bought for $3.99 instead of $5.99 for the brand name.

Over the weekend I found myself at the Woodrow Wilson rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike.  When no Starbucks employees were looking, you can guess what I did.

Where Is Joel Baum?

This comes from my fellow Brandeisian Pearl Gluck who is an independent film maker.

Set in contemporary Brooklyn (where so many good peeps live these days), it centers around what happens after a tragic accident in one part of the Hasidic community.

 

Would we ever love to be big-time producers on this one!

For the moment, it won't be the Whole Phamily, but *you* could be it, no?

"Blue Sky" Singers Can Reconcile, Embrace the Love and Each Other!

Dickey Betts wrote the song "Blue Sky" for the Allman Brothers Band that is so lovely and sweet, and on this day of love that we don't really celebrate is a good listen.   I used to play this a lot before Stango and I were married, and "borrowed" a CD of his that I had in my possession when we experienced a couple of years' relationship hiatus.

The band just accepted a Lifetime Achievement Grammy award on Sunday without Dickey.   The band fully deserved this award and worked so hard to get there.  Congratulations, Allmans!  It was a true privilege to see you perform at the Beacon Theater.

But the estrangement bothers me. Naturally I speak from the outside.  I know nothing about the interpersonal relationships.  Dickey hasn't played with the Allmans in many years.  Some say Duane was right.  Some say Dickey is right.  I don't know who is right, who is wrong, and maybe everyone is right and everyone is wrong.  Dead or alive (Duane passed away), we can get beyond the differences, no?

Can't the grown men all embrace the love and get past their issues/egos/pride?  Am I too naive to think a bear hug is the cure-all?  Familial estrangement usually runs deep and complicated, but it always hurts me to hear of it.  If we don't start at home, and our own brothers and sisters, our own flesh and blood can't get along, how exactly will we find world peace?

This video is from the good ole' days.
And the music is stellar.



The lyrics, written by Betts:

Walk along the river, sweet lullaby, it just keeps on flowing.
It don't worry 'bout where it's going, no, no.
Don't fly, Mister Blue bird, I'm just walking down the road,
Early morning sunshine tell me all I need to know.

You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day.
Lord, you know it makes me high when you turn your love my way,
Turn your love my way, yeah.

Good old Sunday morning, bells are ringing everywhere.
Going to Carolina, it won't be long and I'll be there.

Wish I could embed the video from Relix that shows the entire acceptance speech, but I can't figure it out so I present instead this news piece covering the event:

 


Time to go embrace the loved ones and give Stango a thank-you hug for introducing this into my sphere back in the day. 

Deadheads have a Shul on the Bowery!

Naturally I eat this right up.  

And while I eat it intellectually, I physically eat some yummy Trader Joe's falafel chips (Kof-k parve).  The late-night snacking thing is not good.

Leave it to Chabad Lubavitch to have a former (or not?  I have to hope they still listen to the good tunes) Deadhead couple open a Chabad house just a few blocks of where CBGB's was.

The only thing this article didn't mention explicitly was that Joey Ramone was born Jeffry Ross Hyman and was Jewish.  That it said he would have kvelled, though, implied the Yiddishe connection.

Hatzlacha Raba (best of luck) to Rabbi Dov Yonah and Sarah Korn!

To you, I toast a l'chayim on a Glendale Farms Organic grape juice and seltzer "juicy beverage"!

Falafel Chips & The BabaGanoush Song

All of you dedicated readers must remember when I first discovered falafel chips last year.  Since then I have been serving them at parties and gatherings.  They are so tasty.  People LOVE them.  My cousin Ruthie was here for our family Chanukah party this year and absolutely fell in love with them.

Problem was, they were hard to find.
And at more than $5 a bag, pretty expensive.
I mean, they're just chips in the end.

But guess what?  I love to sleuth it out at Trader Joe's just as much as any other brand-buster.  I love figuring out who makes what product  (e.g. their yogurt "squishers" are the same exact thing as Stonyfield Farms' "squeezers" which are like GoGurt).  Call it being a TJs nerd:  I'm all good with that.

Looky what I found at Trader Joe's this week!

These were spotted this week at my local Trader Joe's!  $3.49 a bag

You betchyer bottom dollar that these are the SAME EXACT ONES that I discovered last year and are made by Flamous Organics.

I'll take 'em for $3.49 a bag.

They are Organic
Gluten Free
Non-GMO
NO trans fat
Soy free
Dairy Free
(but these symbols and confirmations aren't on the TJ's bags...)

Good deal for Flamous Brands, even though it's all a hush hush secret and no one is supposed to know who makes the TJ's private label stuff...I wish them the greatest of success even though they will definitely never confirm this.  Worry not, dear reader, as you know I am quite savvy and can practically guarantee these are the same thing.  

Meantime, my friend Monkey Carey performs with The Funky Monkeys on vocals in this video for the song "Baba Ganoush" which is a condiment used in a felafel sandwich.

Listen to the vocals, as the kids in the video are not the Funky Monkeys..however I thank them for this video since the Funky Monkeys don't even have one!  Very nice job on the video, dudes!

Who Run The World? Girls. And Women. Modest Ones, Too.

Beyonce's "Run the World" came up this morning also at spin class.  Warning: if you aren't one of the more than 100 million people that have already seen the video, both the lyrics and content are racy.  Not x-rated, but if you're coming from Satmar Williamsburg (though if you are here in the first place I imagine you might be able to handle it) you might want to heed some caution.




Sure, I'm not a fan of her hypersexualized style, but I agree with her message:

Behind every wheeler-dealer power broker is an even smarter woman.

I'm more attuned to the vibe offered up by the Grateful Dead when they sang "Women Are Smarter."  Here is Warren Haynes playing that tune with The Dead from a few years ago.




And yet the glass ceiling still exists.  But the women know they still have the power.


While all those vc guys (Venture Capitalists) have been out on boondoggles these past few years,  the women are still wiser and smarter than any private-jet boys club in the friendly skies.  There are plenty of successful female CEOs.  I am thinking Meg Whitman, the former CEO of EBay.  Or Barbara Walters.  Or Irene Rosenfeld, the Chairman and CEO of Kraft Foods.

In my post about how the women are smarter from last year, I linked this idea to the Jewish view on this topic.  And now more specifically I would like to recognize one Jewish woman who was so powerful yet so modest in her delivery.  Apologies in advance for posting her photo on the same page as a half-naked pop star...but I am trying to bring it all together to make a point!

the late Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson z'l

They say that there are barely any photos of the late Rebbetzin Chaya Mushka Schneerson.  She was the wife of the Lubavitcher Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, a man who had great influence in the lives of countless Jewish people whether they realized or not and whose work continues to spread in a most positive way to all corners of the world.  The Rebbetzin was so completely modest that this is one of the few known photos of her, released either late in life or posthumously.  She was a champion of her husband's work, and I imagine that she was always kind and modest in her way.

Here is just one story about the Rebbetzin.

Her yahrtzeit is this coming Wednesday night and Thursday, the 22nd of Shevat.

Here is an article in The Jewish Forward about how many girls are named after her.  Kind of reminds me of being named Rachel in the 1970s and going to Jewish youth group and camp events.  5 girls turn around when they call your name.  You stop turning around because inevitably that cute boy isn't calling your name.

And she was able to help influence the world with nary of photograph of her.

What would Beyoncé think of that?

The Best Folding Chair in the Western World: A. Fritz & Company

Growing up, my grandparents had these folding chairs:

After my grandparents passed away, my parents inherited them.

Talk about fantastic mid-century design!

When I was single and living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, I learned that my neighbors had the very same chairs.
When I got married, I learned that my in-laws had the very same chairs.
They used them as their dining room chairs until they could afford real furniture.
When I had dinner at our friends' houses, I learned that they had the very same chairs.
People had them in different colors.
People had them in upholstery to coordinate with their dining room chair fabric.

Mostly, they were all well-worn, stained velvet gold or rust colored chairs.

But everyone agreed:  These are The Best Folding Chairs.  Ever.

And you can't get them at IKEA, Crate & Barrel, or any other big box store.
They are local and made by a family-owned business in Long Island City, New York.

Last Sukkot we needed more folding chairs.
I looked up the name of the company on the bottom of the chair.
I had no idea if they still existed.
The story was that my Aunt Henny and Uncle Herman were friends were the owners of the company. Sounds oddly familiar to my family's Joyva story.

A. Fritz is still around, alive and kicking.
They have no web site to speak of.
You have to pay by check:  they don't take credit cards.
The woman on the phone is very nice.

Same tag on our new chairs as the ones we have that were purchased in the 1960s

Except now they have colors and fabrics that speak to a more contemporary taste.

Now, this is REALLY mid-century design.  Would Marcel Breuer have approved?  Eh...it still does have upholstery, which he was not at all into with his infamous Wassily Chair.  But it *is* minimal... 

Who can't love a chair that folds up so trim and slim?

Tonight I was at a melave malka (post-Shabbat music gathering) at my friend Holly's house.  I noticed she had these exact same chairs.  She said all of her Philadelphia friends have them.  I said many of my New York friends have them.

It's got to be a Jewish world thing.

I wonder if folks out in Los Angeles have 'em?

Oh, and they are so affordable.  Like, no more than $150 for 4 chairs.  And they'll last you for a lifetime.  And then your children and grandchildren will enjoy and be inspired to blog about them.

A. Fritz Chair
37-28 9th Street
Long Island City, NY
718-361-0499
checks only
They will send the chairs UPS
no web site
under the radar, but likely you know these chairs

The Big O...TGIF

You might think that because I wear skirts, have a bearded husband, light candles on Friday night, go to shul (synagogue) regularly, eat kosher food, and have boys who wear tzitzit (ritual fringes) that I am an Orthodox Jew.

Oh no.  Not the Big O again.

Truth be told, I do not like the label Orthodox.

My husband Stango, ever brimming with his sense of humor, told me that I am Ultra UnOrthodox.   And this is coming from a guy who, while striving to fulfill the taryag mitzvot (613 commandments of the Torah), no longer even considers himself Post-NeoChassidish.  Yes, he would have been a great writer at the Lampoon if he only applied after the first rejection, which he said is par for the course.

Judging me from the outside people say that I am Orthodox.  Sorry, folks, not me.  I do not even consider myself Open Orthodox, a term coined by Rav Avi Weiss, a rabbi, leader and spiritual activist whom I respect tremendously.

Which leads me to The Jew in the City's Open Letter to Jerry Seinfeld, where its creator Allison writes that Jerry should take a look at Orthodox Judaism as a way to fill his secular void.  I hear her, I really do.  And I  agree with her sentiments.  But, my personal preference is to not use The Big O.  How about Traditional Judaism?  And yet, I realize that this might be misleading.   After all, Camp Ramah is traditional in its Judaism, but it is not Orthodox.  How about Torah Judaism?  Or, just Judaism?  Maybe a label is unavoidable and my argument holds no water.  Remember, I only worked in legal research for 5 years.  I never went to law school.

Once you get past the candles, challah, and wine it is all the same traditions.  Do we really need the word Orthodox to get there?  Can't we just celebrate Shabbat Across America this March 2, 2012 by turning Friday night into Shabbat without relying on the big O?

Maybe Allison can start with teaching Jerry about the concept of mezonot (Jewish blessing on cakes, cookies) before he imbibes in racial harmony through the black and white.






One thing is for sure:  I bet that Jessica Seinfeld isn't stressing out right now that she is writing on her blog at 3:15 on a Friday afternoon instead of getting ready for Shabbat.

A gut Shabbes to the Ganse Mishpucha!
(Have a great Sabbath to the Whole Phamily)


(and if you don't relate to that...TGIF!)


But lighting Shabbat candles and having wine and challah would make it all the more better...who knows, maybe then you will learn about the double mitzvah.  Big O, now we're talkin'!

I'm Still Alive, She's Not Gone, and It's Good to Smile, Smile, Smile

This week has had its share of daily grind frustrations with society but for reasons unknown to me Pearl Jam's "Alive" spoke to me and become somewhat of a mantra when I had to deal with them.



I didn't know what the song was about until I read this lyrics this morning (references to a boy, presumably Eddie Vedder, Pearl Jam's lead, who meets his birth father late in life and then he passes away shortly thereafter), but I kept repeating that refrain "Oh, I'm still alive," and reminded myself of all those people who turn lemons into lemonade and maintain a sunny disposition.  No matter how many negative interactions I had with The Establishment (i.e. the medical world) this week, I reminded myself that it isn't really that big of a deal in the end.  Gotta count your blessings and be happy that we have our health and family, and really in the end that is all that matters.  Oh, yeah and of course being educated consumers and advocates for ourselves.

My friend Limor is a huge Pearl Jam fan.  When I posted about how ukeleles have made a comeback, she sent me a link to an Eddie uke performance.  I love Limor, not just because she is sweet.  Not just because her name appears in a song by my favorite band.  Not just because she has a husband who has the same first name as mine (and who I have known since he was a little boy, also a great guy).  Not just because she is into healthy eating and yoga.  Not just because she has great style.  She is also a jeweler.  She is my sister's jeweler.  She is my jeweler.  More on that another time...

When there's nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile (lyric reference to song in video below), that ain't so bad.  The crowd surfing in Pearl Jam's video is a bit high energy for me, but I see where Limor is coming from.  I think I will listen to more Pearl Jam.

Where Are You From? Oh Canada, My Home and Native Land...

My Grandpa Archie Medjuck was born and raised on Nova Scotia (that is a province of Canada for all of us still-in-the-dark United States residents).  Cape Breton to be specific.  He was born in a little town called Calendonia and grew up in the nearby mining town of Glace Bay.

Grandma Mayme and Grandpa Archie Medjuck with me as a baby

If you didn't know me (well, Molly as a middle name isn't overtly Semitic), ya'd think we were Scottish and our elder male members wore kilts on dressy occassions.  And drank a lot.  No such luck:  We were just like any other Jews at the turn of the last century hailing from the alter heim looking for the goldene medina.  My grandpa got drunk on soda pop.

Perhaps Grandpa Archie didn't find gold in the monetary sense, but he definitely found it in his sense of pride in his family and upbringing.  He loved telling stories about Cape Breton, and I think he always longed to live out his years there.  He had what sounds like a lovely childhood and attended Dalhousie University in "the big city" Halifax, and for reasons unclear to me dropped out very close to the completion of his degree to return to Cape Breton and work in his family's general store.

If you look very carefully, you can see my reflection in this photo, a framed receipt from the store that hangs in our home.  Thanks, Mom, for this great family artifact.

So proud of his Nova Scotian upbringing was Grandpa Archie that he continued to have mid-afternoon tea with milk and kippered snacks, always with his yarmulke perched atop his head.  Never mind the crumbs he left behind:  his mother, Rochel Malke, for whom I am named and was known to be a true aishet chayil (a kind, sweet woman), likely cleaned up behind him and never gave him a problem.  I imagine I could learn a lesson or two from her in dealing, with an angelic touch, with the frustrations created by gender difference conflict.  Men can be slobs, disorganized and absent-minded...no biggie!

My brother, Uncle Goalie.  That hat would be a total Ebay score today!

My mother has a book entitled Cape Breton Memories in Verse which I believe my grandfather's brother Sol gave to him, as my mother said he probably knew how much his brother would have loved it once he moved away from Nova Scotia when his youngest daughter was a 2 year old to Syracuse, New York.  I managed to get a copy of this small pamphlet from our academic interlibrary loan system. I have been wanting for years to share this poem and now I finally have a forum.

Where Are you From?

by Winnifred Mitchell Protheroe

I have never met a person yet

Who did not ask of me,

"Where are you from?" then stare,

With careful scrutiny.

I have always thought it odd, that they

Such time, and pains should take

To ferret out the very spot!

What difference does it make?

When first you cross the border

You are a diplomat.

You say, "Oh, I'm from Canada."

And let it go at that.

But here, in our own country

The province folks must know;

And you feel that you must change your style

As further on you go.

For instance, in New Brunswick,

You may answer with a smile;

"My home," you say with  heartfelt pride,

"Is dear old Cape Breton Isle."

Then, when you reach Ontario,

More carefully you choose;

It's "I'm from Nova Scotia" then

As you would not dare to confuse

Worst of all are the cities

Out on the great Pacific;

Where you feel compelled to hum and haw

'Cause you can't be too specific.

The inevitable question comes,

And, like a cowering beast,

You get it over quickly with,

"Me?...I'm from the East."

You want to tell folks where you are from,

But you think that they might frown

As soon as they hear that you were born

In a smoky, mining town.

So, you fidget and fumble and shrink away

And your brain begins to snap.

You wish that you could do something great

To put your old town on the map.

Oh but it's good to be home again.

Where people do not scorn;

Where folks don't make a secret of

The place where they were born.

When someone asks the question now,

I can look him in the eye

And proudly say "I'm from the Bay.

Where are you from, B'y?'

Now I can return the book to the library tomorrow!


n.b.:  Yes, I transcribed that entire poem, complete with its colloquial punctuation, all on my own.  Giving myself a nice ole' pat-on-the-back.