Happy Merry Whatever You Do!

eat, drink, play, sleep, cuddle and be merry, friends.

xoxo

Tradition

“Do not believe in anything simply because you have heard it. Do not believe in anything simply because it is spoken and rumored by many. Do not believe in anything simply because it is found written in your religious books. Do not believe in anything merely on the authority of your teachers and elders. Do not believe in traditions because they have been handed down for many generations. But after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.” ~ Buddha

“For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who don't believe, no proof is possible.” ~ Stuart Chase

***

I wanted to thank all of you who so sweetly wished me a happy Chanukkah/ Hanukkah (however you like to spell it... I could never get the spelling right) from the last post.

I kind of feel like a heel. Part of me wants to just to revel in your lovely wishes because I know it made you happy to wish that for me. And it made me happy to receive your wishes, your blessings. You are all so very very kind. But the other part of me has to come clean and say I don't celebrate Hanukkah (or any other holidays) anymore. I fell off the wagon quite a while ago.

I think I first started to fall off it around the age of eight or ten. It had to do with me reading the story of Abraham and the Sacrifice of Issac, in a book I used to really love called The Children's Story of Israel. It was a really interesting book. I remember loving to read it, not only for the vivid stories, but for the smell and feel of the paper, and the stark black and white illustrations. I think they were engravings. The paper was incredibly silky and smooth. I remember just running my fingers over the pages because they felt beautiful. It was odd. I've never had another book quite like it. I have no idea where that book went to, but it was old.

Anyway, I used to read that book a lot. And then one day it dawned on me what was really going on in that story of Abraham and Isaac. I understood that it meant that Abraham might actually kill his own son because God told him to. And what would that say about any father who might get a message from God. That scared the piss out of me, to be quite frank. I never read that book again. I remember feeling betrayed. And it made me wonder exactly where these stories were coming from and why I read them.

This post isn't to rain on anyone's parade (I don't mean to do that in the least) or to expound what I believe or don't believe. But what this holiday wishing made made me think about is Tradition. Why we believe what we believe.

Like the Buddha says in that quote above: How much of our beliefs are our own? And how often do we question ourselves and our own minds? What is the relationship between our individual identity and what is forged by the traditions and beliefs handed down to us?

***

In thinking about my Hanukkahs of the past, I think about my grandmothers. My grandma Helen (aka Little Helen) and my grandma Annette. For Grandma Helen, I remember the potato latkes and how I've never had any that taste better than hers did. Every year she would come to my mother's house, with an old metal food grinder in an ancient cardboard box. The grinder part was held on by rubber bands. My mom and I would peel potatoes, keeping them in a bowl of water to keep them from turning pink, until Grandma Helen could grind them up into a big bowl filled with eggs, onions and flecks of black pepper. I remember her forehead getting damp. It was hard work grinding all of those potatoes.

But she said that's what made them taste so good and she was right about that. I've just come to realize that I'll never have that particular taste in my mouth again.

And then there was my Grandma Annette. In her being absent for most of my life now, I think she's come to make a greater impression on me because I didn't know her well. But she represented Tradition to me in a way I craved. She came from the "Old Country" (the Ukraine) as she called it in her heavy accented English, and I still vaguely remember her stories of village life and her brothers and sisters and escaping the Cossack raids.

She knew all of the Sabbath blessings and kept kosher. She was tiny and also very formidable in a quiet, fragile way. I used to watch Fiddler on the Roof a lot as a kid, because I imagined that her vanished village with no name was just like the one in the movie. In a way, I was probably right.

***

Looking back at grandma Annette and her lost world of the Old Country, I realized for many years that what I wanted, or perhaps envied most, was her tradition. The surety of a world where your place was known, where everyone knew what was expected of themselves and they were surrounded by a community that might have been confining but was also there as a protection. I had this fantasy of how life might just be so much easier if I knew exactly what I was supposed to be when I got older.

Unfortunately or fortunately, life in the 'burbs just isn't the same thing as life in the shtetl. Of course now I'm grateful that I ended up where I am, but for many years, I really felt I was missing out on something very subtle and very important. But my world is a lot bigger now. And I'm not so scared of it anymore. I'm not scared of not being what I thought I was going to be when I grew up, either.

***

Several years ago, I went on a business trip to Houston. On the flight home, my fellow passenger was an Orthodox rabbi. He had the peyes, the prayer shawl, the black hat. He was my age, rotund and jolly. He had five beautiful children (in his words, I'm sure they were) and he and his wife ran an Orthodox community in Dallas. He was flying to Palo Alto to perform a wedding.

Now all these years later, I felt like I finally had my chance. I had to ask him what was up with the Abraham and Isaac story. I told him what it did to my kid psyche and I could see on his face that I wasn't the only one who had a problem with the tale. He looked pained as I poured my heart out to him. He explained it to me, in what the metaphor of the story really meant, and apologized that no one was there to tell me that when I was young. I tried not to cry. But I did and he gave me his beverage napkin so I could blow my nose. His explanation was calming in its way, but still did not erase the savagery of the act that almost was.

I don't know why it affected me so, to have some closure on that story so many years after the fact. I mean, I could have gone to any temple around and just asked someone. But that was the right time for me. It was the right time, and at the same time, it was too late.

The rabbi and I kept in touch for a little while via email but whatever tradition I felt I should have had just wasn't inside me. I think some things you have to be exposed to at a very young age for them to take hold in your heart, otherwise the roots are just too shallow.

But I don't feel too badly, because I also realize that there was a little eight or ten year old girl who read something and then had an opinion about it and took a position. Above all else, I appreciate that little Julie who reads and thinks about what she reads. And wherever that tradition came from, I'm most grateful for that of all.

***

More and more, I'm fine with where I'm at. It's a journey though, and I'm still working on it. But I'm not as worried so much about not having all the answers.

“Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.” ~ George Carlin

***

Paintings by Marc Chagall: 1. Solitude (1933). 2. The Birthday (1915). 3. Title unknown (if you know, please tell me).

"One fine day... as my mother was putting the bread in the oven, I went up to her, and taking her by her flour-smeared elbow I said to her, 'Mama ... I want to be a painter.' " ~ Marc Chagall

Happy First Day of Winter

"Every winter, When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay, Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses." ~ Charles Kingsley, Saint's Tragedy (act III, sc. 1)

This is it, kids. The days start getting longer again from here. Happy Winter Solstice! For those of us in the Northern Hemisphere, this astronomical event means that tonight will be the longest night of the year. To quote wikipedia: "Astronomical events, which during ancient times controlled the mating of animals, sowing of crops and metering of winter reserves between harvests, show how various cultural mythologies and traditions have arisen."

I don't practice animal husbandry, or plant crops or store food for winter (although maybe that isn't such a bad idea these days), but I can appreciate why it was so significant to have practices of observing this day for our ancestors. Basically, if you didn't understand the seasons, you didn't survive, and neither did your family or your tribe. That information bears honoring and remembering through future generations.

Aside from the astronomical event, I enjoyed reading about the myriad of Winter Celebrations that occur all around the world at this time of year, as so many cultures attach significance to this happening. And an informative classification of the major world's religions can be found here.

I'm not a religious person. At this time of year, I cannot help but consider all of the beliefs that are held around the world. My main wish for all is of tolerance, if we still decide to associate any particular philosophical or religious aspect to this day or time of year.

***

Aside from that, there are some wicked cool photos in the Flickr Commons, if you've never visited yet. The Flickr Commons is a public archive of photography, with an amazing array of images on many, many subjects. I just typed in "winter" and came up with these two gems.

What captures me about old photos is the humanity of them. Even more than a painting, we truly see ourselves in our predecessors. People are people. No matter where and when they live.

"For those who have seen the Earth from space, and for the hundreds and perhaps thousands more who will, the experience most certainly changes your perspective. The things that we share in our world are far more valuable than those which divide us." ~ Donald Williams, former NASA astronaut, who has logged a total of 287 hours and 35 minutes in space

Holiday Tizzy

"I misremember who first was cruel enough to nurture the cocktail party into life. But perhaps it would be not too much too say, in fact it would be not enough to say, that it was not worth the trouble." ~ Dorothy Parker

***

I don't blog about work much. I'd really like to because I think you'd find the stories entertaining and we would be one of your better soap operas/fabulous reality shows, but right now I am just super-duper happy to have a job at all and I don't want to screw that up.

I know I have mentioned the whining, though. People here are expert at this. I cannot even begin to tell you about the rigaramole that has cropped up about our Holiday Party, but let me say that if someone complains about it at this point, the results could be dire (for them) because I had the unique distinction of jumping through all of the hoops by myself this year and am the sole Creative Party Planner and Go-To Festivity Organizer Person this time around.

Since I can't go into details, I will placate you by sharing the menu because if I tell more, I'll never stop tattling and then that would be bad for my economy.

***

Hosted Premium Bar and Reception Station

Antipasto: Select Artisan Cured Meats, Marinated Summer Vegetables, Marinated Olives, House Cured Wild King Salmon House Made Sea Salt Crackers & Grissini

Winter Buffet Dinner

Organic Young Carrot Bisque
Young Forni Brown Lettuces, Garden Herbs and Champagne Vinaigrette
Chef's Choice Vegetarian Pasta Dish
Bloomsdale Spinach Salad, Caramelized Onions, Applewood Smoked Bacon
Organic Heirloom Chicory Salad with Dry Cured Olives and Fresh Mozzarella
House Cured Wild Salmon, Young Lettuces, Fresh Shelling Bean Salad
Garlic Chive Crepes, Local Wild & Cultivated Mushrooms
Stuffed Baby Heirloom Squashes & Eggplants
Wood Roasted Young Chicken with Endive, Frisee and Goat Cheese
Roasted Sonoma Coast Lamb Leg, Garden Herb Crust
Devils Food Cupcakes with White Chocolate Ganache
Organic Apple Confit, Gingersnap Crumble and Vanilla Chantilly Cream
Pear and Huckleberry Tarts

***

Christina, did I do good? It sounds fancy shmancy. I just hope they have enough drinks beforehand to be happy campers. I threw darts at the wine list.

Vintage coolness and the photo I swiped come from Vintage Martini.

Dia de los Muertos

"There's a bit of magic in everything, and some loss to even things out." ~ Lou Reed, "Magic and Loss"

Tonight my little friend Chipmonkey and her Mr. Chipmonkey and I went to the Mission for the Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead Procession.

Me and my friend Flora.

From the website: Over 15,000 people gather to honor our ancestors, celebrating the vitality and richness of today's community. While the ceremony remains true to its Latino roots, the San Francisco procession actively encourages participation by people of all origins.

Bring candles, photos, food, or something that reminds you of a person that has passed away. The altars are community art installations that are intended to change as each person adds something to the hearth.

The Day of the Dead is a unique festival that is the result of 16th century contact between Mesoamerica and Europe. Conceptually, it is a hybrid, owing its origins to both prehispanic Aztec philosophy and religion and medieval European ritual practice.

***

The air was filled with the most incredible scent: a mixture of candles, burning sage, and the ever-present marijuana. We followed the sound of drumbeats through the streets. The night air was cool and the crowd joyous.

It was lovely to see people holding candles, flowers and photos of their beloved friends and family for all to appreciate and remember.

Wearing your heart on your back.

She was handing out "spirit food" (little colorful cards).

Beautiful glowing glass children inside a simple gallery. Also the silver milagros in the first photo, too.

Soul light.
Good night, San Francisco.