Into the theater....

One of the most enjoyable holiday tradtions for many New Yorkers is to go to the movies in the days between Christmas and New Year's Eve. There were many choices and after thinking about it for about half a minute, we decided that "Into the Woods" would be a good choice.  My daughter and I had seen a revival of it on Broadway with Vanessa Williams a couple of seasons back, and we thought it might be nice to do a compare and contrast of her performance and that of Meryl Streep who is the witch in the movie version.
We were not disappointed.  It is an excellent adaptation. Streep, Christine Baranski and Johnny Depp were magical. But the behvior of some of the local theater goers left a lot to be desired, leaving a bad taste in my mouth.
I do wish parents would read both the reviews and the age recommendations attached to films.  This is afterall, not the Rogers and Hammerstein Broadway version of "Cinderella", it is, for G-d's sake, Stephen Sondheim....a bit more sophisticated and much darker. Don't bring your 5 year old or your toddler to this one.  You will only guarantee yourself a sleepless night as the kiddoes will wake up from nighmares of giants stepping on people and princes falling into thorn patches.
If you want to get to the second row, don't climb over the first one leaving dusty footprinits on the seats.  The UA Theater has designed the seating so there are several breaks with stairs that can be used to walk to the next row...and, by the way...when you accidently kick the person you are climbing over; it is considered good form to apologize.
Also, please do not let your seven and eight year olds run back and forth in the entry aisle.  Their boredom with the film only confirms the fact that this movie is beyond their comprehension, and perhaps you should have hired a sitter and come with your spouse. And if they start screaming because they want more popcorn,please think about taking them into the lobby for your parential disipline speech. We've heard it all before, and would rather not be privy to it this time around.
And finally, we know the movie is just about ended, but there is still about ten minutes left to wrap up the storyline.  Please don't leave the theater discussing the ending as you leave.  Your car will still be in the lot if you could just wait for the credits to begin rolling....and oh, I like to read the credits, so if you are leaving...do it in a timely fashion and waith for your pals ourside, not in the center of the darkened theater.  Besides blocking my reading the credits, you are a safety hazard for those who are exiting in a proper manner.

So, go, enjoy the film, just understand that there are some folks who need to take "Movie Viewing 101".  Try not to let them bother you.

New York Christmas Traditions

With the season of Christmas soon upon us, or upon us now depending on your
outlook; it may be time to look back on the mid-twentieth century and remember

some very New York Christmas traditions.

          1. Christmas Tree and Christmas wreath pressed butter cookies made from scratch and placed in tins to bring to friends and family as Christmas gifts.  Some were
 reserved to be served to friends and children who came to see your tree.

2. Candy canes on the tree served three purposes.  They were nice decorations; they were given to children who stopped by to see your tree, and finally used as handy "swizzle sticks" in cups of steaming hot chocolate.

3. Hot chocolate at every neighbors' house or apartment.  Children were greeted with candy canes and cups of hot chocolate topped off with a small mountain of fresh whipped cream dusted with Christmas colored sugars of red and green...as a special treat, the above mentioned peppermint candy cane was inserted to use as a whipped cream scoop and flavorful stirrer.

4. Visiting nearby churches to see their crèches was always a treat; 

going to various churches around the 'hood to see who had the best decorations was a communal adventure.  Regina Pacis in Bensonhurst was always a contender.  And a trip into the "city" aka Manhattan, always meant a double stop at Rockefeller Center and St. Patrick's Cathedral...and St Pat's display oftimes came pretty close to the one in Bensonhurst. Often close, but no cigar.

But my favorite Brooklyn crèche story revolves around a life sized manger scene that resided at Glenwood Road and East 36th Street near the B-6 bus stop. As was the local tradition, the three magi were not standing at the manger on Christmas Eve. They were S-L-O-W-L-Y moved day by day until their arrival on the Feast of the Epiphany.  But one year the three wise guys took a different turn.  With scarves, hats, and shawls wrapped around their plywood bodies, and package-laden Macy's bags hung over their outstretched arms that ostensibly held myrrh, frankincense and gold, these wandering monarchs stood stoically at the local bus stop as bus after bus after bus stopped by to pick up what appeared to be three hapless women struggling with gifts for errant kith and kin.  This was the last year for the life-sized troupe. Soon they were unceremoniously retired after a scathing sermon about the sanctity of the season from the pulpit of the sponsoring church.

               5. And speaking of Bensonhurst, the holidays were never complete without a trip

to view the monster-holiday house lights in Dyker Heights and Bensonhurst. My own

neighborhood of East Flatbush was downright sedate compared to these dueling neighboring 'hoods.  I think Con Ed, our local electric power

company, made the bulk of its profits in the weeks heading up to and the twelve

days following Christmas.

6. And the well dressed matron would never think of leaving her home without her Christmas corsage of satin ribbons, glittering greens and a few small shining mini-Christmas ornaments.  These were loving placed at the crèche of choice during the requisite church tour.  Their accumulation at the mini-stable was the deciding factor in which congregation had done the best job and would wear the crèche crown until the next Christmas season.

7. And Christmas lasted for twelve whole days after the Eve.  And we celebrated, and we visited folks near and far, and we really enjoyed ourselves.


8. And we sang: lovely seasonal carols at church and in the choir at school, Girl Scouts and Boy scouts caroled in the neighborhood visiting invalids and ending at someone's home for the cookies and candy canes and hot chocolate mentioned above.  And if we were lucky, it snowed!



These traditions seem quaint in this time, but perhaps we need to look back and simplify our holiday lives and remember why we are celebrating this lovely time of year. This special time in which we welcome the Word made Flesh, the Light into the world, is a sweet time. Let's get some of that  sweetness back into our celebrations.

Living on Staten Island...give us a break

So, I live on Staten Island.  Not only do I live on Staten Island, I live a block and a half from the spot where Eric Garner died.  The park in which he sold "loosies" is catty-corner from my building. This neighborhood, where I purchased a condo, is undergoing a sort of revival, and I have to admit, that not only I, but other condo owners in my building and folks in the surrounding area have in the past called the local precinct complaining about the sale of narcotics in said park. And I will agree that Mr. Garner was involved in illegal behavior, but certainly behavior that could have been handled in a much better way that would not have resulted in his untimely death. I also agree that Mr. Garner had health issues, and who does not? I am sure his were more serious than even he knew.


I am also no fool.  I have lived in this city my entire life, the last forty years on Staten Island where I taught in private, parochial and public schools for twenty eight years.  And it was in the public schools on this island where I saw institutional racism up close. How could a school that was almost 35% African American only have four or five students of color in honors programs? How could the overwhelming majority of students who were suspended be African American and Hispanic?  How could the vast majority of students in our Special Education unit, which was at one time by choice 25% of the school population, overwhelmingly be made up of young men of color? Now, by the time students reach the secondary level, most of the educational decisions in their lives have been either made or put into motion.  Many of our students did very well and succeeded with the support of a wonderfully caring staff, but others struggled to get by due to circumstances beyond their control, and beyond the control of the concerned adults who strove each day to do the best they could with limited resources in a system bogged down by bureaucracy. And just in case you did not know it, the New York City public schools are the most segregated in the country according to recent reports, and Staten Island is the "whitest" district in the city. 


There is good reason for this.  This is the borough in which an overwhelming number of civil servants reside.  New York City has a residency rule for members of the uniformed services, so many firefighters, police officers and sanitation workers live here.  Ask any Staten Islander if he or she knows a city worker, and the odds are they themselves are, or they are related to an employee of the City of New York.  At this moment, I am currently employed part time by the city and my three children work for the city full time in three different  municipal agencies.


Real estate prices here are a bit more reasonable than in the rest of the city.  Coop apartments, condos, town houses and single and multiple family homes are spread out across the island and offer a plethora of housing alternatives not found in the congested grid that is Manhattan. In addition, we are just a mere 25 minute ferry ride from the hustle and bustle of "the city" where so many of us work.


And so, I have to admit that I am very much dismayed and upset at the reaction others have to us and their perceived perceptions of who and what we are.


First, let me note that I was more than shocked when the Grand Jury's decision was announced.  I thought that at the very least, there would be an indictment so further investigation would go forward.  I also know that our current District Attorney is a man of professional integrity, and intellectually understood that there was a process that was followed very deliberately.  Since the D.A. petitioned to have the Grand Jury's evidence made public, I thought I would reserve my final decision until I read what the jury had as evidence as well as what we had all seen in the media.


I am upset when I hear or read on social media outlets of how reactionary, racist and conservative Staten Islander are. I am upset when I see demonstrators from elsewhere making rash statements about the place I call home. I am upset with people from other boroughs who make unfeeling and uninformed remarks about the borough in which I have chosen to live.  If I hear one more so-called "friend" asking if I have my passport to get to Manhattan or how NYC sends its garbage to Staten Island, I may just have to slap them silly. By the way, I travel freely back and forth to Manhattan on a weekly basis, and NYC's solid waste goes to a landfill in Pennsylvania, not here.


Just to set the record straight: Eric Garner's death was a tragedy; the Grand Jury reached its conclusion with the evidence it was given; a civil suit can follow, and it should; all lives are important; no young man should be stopped because of his color, his clothes or the length of his hair; all of New York's citizens have a right to use public spaces without fear. And Staten Islanders should not all be painted with one brush; we are as diverse as most American villages, towns or cities.  We want a better life for our children and all children on this piece of New York City...and we deserve the respect and help of the rest of this great city.

Bumbling Criminals

Methinks the latest generation of thieves, thugs,  swindlers, and overall bad guys are not cut from as sturdy a cloth as in the past; nor do they appear to be the sharpest knives in the drawer, nor are they the brightest lights in the chandelier.  Or perhaps my local newspaper, the beloved Staten Island Advance, is just having too much fun reporting on the crazy shenanigans of various nefarious yokels between its pages.


In this past Monday's paper, a man left the scene of an auto accident because he claimed he did not want to listen to his girlfriend yelling at him...Oh, if that would only be the most important thing he has to worry about! Perhaps he could ask her to call him an attorney.  I think he is gong to need one....rather quickly.


And how about the shoplifting duo from Oregon who, after crossing state lines to commit petty larceny in Idaho, jumped into their car and drove around and around the parking lot.  The cops simply put down some spiked strip tape which the intrepid crooks ran over multiple times resulting in several flat tires, and an easy collar for the local police force.  Perhaps next time they will choose a shopping center closer to home; one whose parking lot they might have been in a few times before they attempt another heist.


In today's paper, there was the story of a local boy who in attempting to steal $23 from an outdoor poor box at a local church, was spotted by a cop on patrol who arrested him for possession of burglary tools: in particular, a couple of sticks he taped together to shove into the box to pry it open, and false personation because he gave them someone else's name as his.  Once they looked at his driver's license photo, which was in his wallet, they figured out who he was; and now this bright light is on his way to the pokey.


In Texas a drunk broke into a meat packing plant, stole and ate some sausage, grabbed someone's coat, went into the back office and fell asleep. The cops woke him up the next morning to arrest him for criminal trespassing. His excuse?  He drank too much last night...ya think?


And finally, a registered sex offender, who was a student at my old Intermediate School, hit a cop in the face with a credit card scanner and then attempted to grab the gun of said police officer's partner in order to escape an attempted shoplifting arrest. Now, I do know that one thing a thinking criminal should NOT do is go for a police officer's gun.  That is one way to insure that you wind up in a very unhappy place. Said suspect's explanation for his bad behavior had to do with the fact that he was on probation and didn't want to get in any more trouble. I think he now has more trouble than he bargained for. After attempting to take a gun from an officer of the court,  he is facing several felony and misdemeanor counts and is being held on bond...seems none of his "peeps" stepped up to put up his $5,000 bail. 


Perhaps the level of incompetence in the criminal class is yet another societal ill to lay at the feet of the educational community? I think not. Bumbling criminals, whose attempts at various forms of illegal activity make us shake our heads, are the result of their own actions and their own stupidity.

Seasonal Philanthropy

This afternoon we served 152 people at he TLC Soup Kitchen.  The experienced
crew made this task easy; the increased numbers of new guests, however, caused
both major and minor "hiccups" to occur...and I let myself be unnecessarily
drawn into one of them. At the root of the problematic behaviors, is , I
believe, the issue of seasonal philanthropy.

"Seasonal Philanthropy", as defined my me since I coined the phrase, is an
annual ennui that overcomes some well-meaning, but socially clueless individuals
who feel the urgent need to "give back" to the "less fortunate" thus making
themselves feel superior and beneficent at the same time.

During the holiday season that runs from early November through the New Year, I
get many calls and emails from complete strangers who want to bring their
children, nieces and nephews and grandparents to serve at the Soup Kitchen on a
holiday to "give back" or to "share with others"', or "feel good about our
family's own situation" or finally, even to " be present with the poor", (I don't
make these phrases up; real people say them to me).  I am, of course, appalled
because I know that people are in need all year round, yet even those in these
unpleasant circumstances get caught up in this holiday "rush" to be provided with  numerous frozen turkeys, stuffing mix, cranberry sauce and apple pie for the
Thanksgiving holiday, and later to make sure every homeless or poverty level
child receives new toys and mittens.

Now, I agree that we are called to serve our fellow humans, and making sure
children and adults are feed and warm in this colder northern climate is an
important obligation we have as caring people.  But this seasonal philanthropy
puts our most needy clients in the position of scamming the system for all they
can get...and I am NOT condemning this.  I understand why a mother with hungry
mouths to feed will happily take a turkey from three different organizations or
food pantries.  This means she can provide meals high in protein through out the
winter months.  A 12 pound turkey can provide at least three meals for a family
of five...even more if turkey soup is made from the carcass and giblets.

In the past week, I have solid knowledge of over 4,000 turkeys being distributed
on Staten Island alone. 

Today at the Food Pantry we had over 135 families show up.  Some were there to
pick up a reserved turkey; some were there for their regular appointment;
still others were there because they heard that extra turkeys would be given
out.  It was utter chaos.  Our regular registration crew was overwhelmed.  The
clerks behind the counters were run ragged. The line manager was cursed at and
maltreated by new clients who just "showed up" to get their turkey...the one they
were entitled to.

Those of us in the Soup Kitchen agreed to stay open an extra 15 minutes...which
quickly turned into half an hour, to feed more folks.  When we finally had to
close since the cooking crew had been on their feet for a full five hours, we
were sharply criticized and chastised by a new client for not doing what he
perceived to be our job...that is to feed the rest of the folks on the pantry
line. Rationalizing with him was just not to be, and I nearly lost it...okay, I
did lose it, when accused by said stranger that I did not care about hungry
people.  I pointed out that we feed hungry people 52 weeks a year, not just on
the Saturday before Thanksgiving, but he was having none of it. We were not
living up to his expectations of how a church should operate, and there was no
convincing him. In my frustrated state I just walked away.

Could we have done more? Perhaps, but we also do this work all year long....not
just for the holidays, and maybe that causes us to become more cynical.  And we
don't turn anyone away during the time we serve.  I guess we are just not on the
same schedule as seasonal philanthropists who might be appalled at our
behavior...but we toil in this vineyard all year long. We do not pick and choose
when we want to come.  We answer the Gospel call each week: rain or shine, snow
or sleet, oppressing heat or bitter cold....how about you cut us some slack over
the holidays?

Convention Thoughts...just sayin'

The past weekend I attended our annual Diocesan Convention at a Hotel/Conference Center in Tarrytown, NY.  There were over 200 lay and clerical delegates gathered together to review expenditures, set policy, vote for alternates to our national church's General Convention next summer, and review and pass resolutions that will guide our work in the coming years. It is also a time of renewed fellowship and checking in with old friends and just generally "catching up". Who has moved since last we met? What are the kids up to? Who is transferring to another parish? What will the hot-button topics be this time around? And, I would be lying if I did not include the fact that lots of schmoozing and glad-handling goes on as well.

As in any convention,  many participants were reading their convention material and filling in their vote tally pages in the serious manner appropriate to good conventioneers.  There were others who spent a great deal of time reading novels, knitting, (I admit, I brought my knitting with me; a good way to assure you will be warm during the speeches and presentations) and many others having side-bar conversations that had nothing to do with the reasons we were gathered together. 


But the one thing I found fascinating was the difference between how people behave at a Eucharist celebrated in a traditional setting, i.e. church or chapel, and a decidedly non-traditional setting, specifically a hotel ballroom/conference room.




Just a few random observations in no order of importance:






1. Unless you are a  hungry toddler, snacking during Mass is not a good idea.  Clergy chewing granola bars during the celebration of the mass just seems a bit off.

2. I will admit that the room was a bit chilly, but drinking hot coffee during the service might not be a good choice. Next thing you know we'll be finding empty juice bottles in the choir stalls.

3. Making change from the collection plate is a little tacky....just sayin'.

4. Doing needlepoint, crocheting or knitting during the Eucharist keeps one from focusing in on what is important.

5. Either turn off or don't answer your cell phone during services....that is just good manners.

A final thought, if  folks who are perceived as being leaders of their church communities have become so lax in their demeanor during solemn time, how can we expect others in our home congregations to behave better?

Pride in Product

Pride in Product

Recently I had to replace the detachable key board that I had been using with my I-Pad mini for the past year.  Several over-used keys went kaput: "SLTNR-E" in particular...the "Wheel of Fortune" letter suite that they always include with the final puzzle. At first they would merely stick and appear on the screen after a few agonizing seconds.  They just completely disappeared from the screen all together.  Time to get a new keyboard.

So I returned to the AT&T store in the Staten Island Mall when I purchased it in the first place.  Well, to my dismay I fell three weeks outside the one year guarantee time, so I did not qualify for a cost-free replacement.  However, the young salesman did get me a copy of my receipt and the phone number of the manufacturer of the keyboard.  I would have to contact them and see if I could get a suitable replacement.  The salesman was a bit confused when I mentioned in passing that I was reluctant to purchase another keyboard at $89 from the same company whose product conked out a little over a year after I purchased it.

So I went home and made the call. A very sweet salesgirl on the other end was more than happy to sell me the same model at the hugely(?) discounted rate of $85 plus tax and shipping.  She did not seemed concerned when I mentioned that I would not be buying the same model since it died a premature death after a year's use. She then offered me one of what she claimed was a "better quality"
for twenty dollars more.  I said, "No thanks"' and decided to return to the mall to check out alternatives.

My first stop was at one of those middle-mall kiosks that was run by the same company, just to check out what this newer model looked like. I explained my dilemma to the young man, a sales representative for this company who asked me why I just didn't say I did not remember exactly when I bought said keyboard....in essence he told me to lie to his employer in order to get a free keyboard...a faulty one in my opinion.  When I said, "So, you are telling me to lie?"  He replied, "I am telling you to bend the truth."  I may be getting older, but I think "bending the truth" is still lying.  He also admitted that the keyboard I bought had "issues", but was willing to sell me another one for $99.  I said, "No thanks".  He shrugged and turned away.

Next stop was the Apple Store.  I was directed to a nice enough young salesman who told me that Apple no longer sells the model I had purchased a year ago. "Too many problems.", he said.  Ya think!? He showed me another one they were recommending this year that cost $100.  I indicated that I would not pay that much, and I left the store...a bit frustrated.

I went back to AT&T, only to be chastised by their young sales manager: " If you want the best keyboard for your mini, you need to get a stand alone"' he admonished me. "I am very fussy about my technology; it has to be fast and the key board has to be portable so I can carry it around.

I told this guy that I wanted one that could be folded with the screen.  He also implied that the one I had purchased from his store the year before was, well...crap.  He recommended the same one the Apple guy wanted to sell me for $100.  I was getting a headache.

I went to another mid-mall kiosk where the young salesman told me that he did not have an appropriate one3, but another store in the mall was having a sale on the keyboard I was looking for.  I went there and discovered a very nice Bluetooth keyboard reduced from $89.00 to $9.80 including tax!!!

He said they were changing models, and the new ones would be in by the first of  December...and at this price, I should think about buying two in case one stops working. I bought one.  At least this sales guy did not try to convince me to buy a "superior" model.  He only had one. 

But one thing that has caused me concern is the  overwhelming opinion that shoddy workmanship is a built-in factor in all pieces of the consumer economy and the deliberate early obsolesce of all technological devices is an expected part of that part of the economy. I remember a time when manufacturers were actually proud of the durability of their products.  I remember when "Made in
America" meant that the tool or dress or television or car you were buying was made with quality materials by skilled craftspersons.  I understand that we live in a world economy.  I understand the Wal-Marts of the world have made this globalization of shoddily made products too cheap for many to pass up, and they pay their workers third world wages to boot.


Sigh, I wonder if this is the "Brave New World" our elders dreamed about....I doubt it.

New Ways of Doing Church

For several years now we have heard the nay-sayers deplore the state of main line churches across America.  The buildings are crumbling; the pews are empty; the coffers need replenishing; the cupboards are bare, and the sky is falling...not necessarily in that order.  Not that there are not problems and issues that need to be addressed: aging structures and congregations present challenges to tightly stretched budgets; neighborhoods and demographics change, especially in urban settings where populations are in constant flux due to changing economic opportunities.





But all is not lost, and perhaps those of us for whom organized religion holds value need to think of new ways of doing church.  I know this is not a thought I alone came up with. I understand folks of many faith traditions have been thinking and talking about this for several years.  But it may be time to seriously consider looking at other models of how church can be done in different ways.




A large city Episcopal Church had been offering a Sunday type service on a weekday for people whose schedules might not be conducive to traditional Sunday worship. In addition, a Sunday evening Eucharist was offered in a more relaxed atmosphere. Closer to home, a rather traditional Episcopal parish began and continues to offer, a low key Sunday evening Eucharist that at first appealed to the LGBT community, but also makes sense for the Sunday morning athletes among us. A local Lutheran church offered a Taize-style Saturday evening worship that had a good following for a while, but disappeared when the pastor retired.

Theology on Tap

Several churches, both in the city and the 'burbs are offering what is referred to as "Theology on Tap" where smaller groups of Christians join together to talk about their faith in local taverns while consuming some adult beverages and pub grub.  These were originally designed to attract younger folks, but each one is different, and some seem to attract a loyal cadre of parishioners who just like to hang together and eat good pizza....by the way...nothing wrong with good pizza under any circumstances.



Hip Hop Mass at St Paul's Chapel

Several years ago, a deacon friend was involved in ministering to large numbers of gang members in the South Bronx.  He and the rector baptized children, officiated at weddings, and began to integrate the local "hip-hop" culture into a well attended Thursday evening service.  It was successful in attracting a cadre of traditionally unchurched people to the church, but unfortunately for them, it was held up by others as a model to be replicated across the city.  Well, it quickly became a piece that was taken "on-the-road" and brought into neighborhoods for an "event" that quickly turned it into a cultural sideshow and it soon died on the vine.  The deacon and priest moved on to other ministries, and the young men and women of that community drifted apart.

So, it was with much trepidation that I began following a "Dinner Church" in Brooklyn on the internet about two years ago.  St. Lydia's is a mission of the Evangelical Lutheran Church/New York Synod and the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island.  Emily Scott, an ordained Lutheran Minister is the pastor, if you can use that term , of this interesting group of people in Christian community.

Emily Scott

Last Sunday I attended their Open House as they gathered to celebrate the opening of their new store front space on Bond Street in Brooklyn on the edge of Gowanas, Carroll Gardens and Park Slope. I have never felt so welcomed in another congregation in a very long time.  Everyone was happy to talk about their experiences there and how they got to that place. Most of the folks there were in their early thirties to mid forties, with a healthy sprinkling of greying boomers. Their worship on Sunday or Monday evening...which ever you can make, consists of preparing a shared meal; setting the tables gathering together in silence, offering intercessions, doing a Eucharist ritual, breaking the bread and sharing a meal.  Once the meal is done, the worship leader, usually the minister/pastor delivers a sermon/homily/reflection and the gathered community reacts and prayers and petitions are offered.  The table is cleared, dishes are cleaned, the floor is swept, and folks go on their way.



Co Share space at St Lydia's B'klyn

During the week, the well-lit and airy storefront offers its table space, wi-fi, printer and leftovers (which are squirreled away in the refrigerator) to folks who would be doing their work at a coffee shop or at home.  A suggested offering for the space is used to off-set some of the costs of running the church.  They "crowd sourced" the money they needed to do the renovations, and set up a "wish list" on Amazon to stock the place with all the kitchen items they needed, and with books and craft items for the youngsters who come with parents.  They have a ten year lease and a bold plan to expand and move forward with their worshiping community. 

The gathered group at St Lydia's has a vision and a plan.  They have used new ways of raising money, outfitting the space and reaching possible new members.  They have shown real stewardship of their property by using it in a smart way to generate income for them when they are NOT using it as worship space. Perhaps those of us who are struggling to work within our personally created parameters of church can learn from them, not by imitating them, but by rethinking what it means to be church. 
Want to learn more about St Lydia's?  Look here: http://stlydias.org/about.php

Soup Kitchen Volunteers

Fourth Saturday Kitchen Crew

For a very long time now, so long that I am not going to hazard a guess about how long , but I think that Kirstin was in High School when we started, and she is going to her 20th High School Reunion this weekend, so is has been some time now that I have spent most Saturdays at a local Soup Kitchen.  The cast of characters that show up for lunch has changed somewhat, although there is a pretty consistent flow of "regulars" whose trials and tribulations have ebbed and flowed over the past years. There are several volunteers who have also been around for quite a while whose experience I value highly.      

Several of our volunteers came to us from the local high schools that require a "community service" component for graduation.  Many of these young folk often stayed on after their 25 hours of service were over, and have written about their time with us in college application essays.  A valiant few often return to help out during college breaks and summer vacation time.  We are always happy to see them.

St john's University SVdeP

We have been getting other workers from colleges near by.  The Soup Kitchen is within a reasonable walk from two colleges on Staten Island: St. John's University and Wagner College. These young people are often away from home for the first time, and develop a feeling of community when they come to work with us. They form lasting friendships across campus lines, and we get great volunteers who can follow instructions well.

There are also  interns working on hurricane relief who live in a church-owned house down the street from the Soup Kitchen.  One of them has become a regular at the Soup Kitchen when he isn't working.  He has also made good connections with other volunteers and our college friends, and if we have left overs....which we occasionally do, he brings it home to the five other interns who live on a tight budget. 

Our cooking crews often bring volunteers with them. Some of these folks prefer to stay in the kitchen, but others like to venture out to the front of the house to meet and serve our guests.  We try to accommodate all workers to serve within their comfort zones, but are happy when one or two wish to step outside of theirs to experience something different.

Second Saturday meal

And finally, we have a local organization that matches volunteers with projects which comes twice a month (the third and fifth Saturdays) to serve the meal.  At first I was not sure how this would work out, but we have begun to get a regular rota of volunteers who have become invaluable to the running of both the kitchen the dining area.

As the holiday season fast approaches us, I will be hearing from others who want to be "Volunteer for a Day" for Thanksgiving or Christmas.  I have a difficult time dealing with "one day wonders" who want me to provide them with a stellar experience on two of the busiest days in my year.  Well, truth be told, we don't serve on the holidays, unless Christmas falls on a Saturday.  We usually serve a holiday meal the Saturday prior to the holidays.  So this year that means we'll have our traditional Thanksgiving meal on the 22nd of November and Christmas dinner on the 19th of December. On those days I need my most experienced serving crew.  I don't have the time, nor the patience, to deal with rookies.  But, mark my words, at least five to ten will show up.  Pray for me.

Roof top gardening

Gazanias

As the days get shorter and the nights get cooler, it is now time to put the summer container garden to rest.  The basil plants have grown elongated and woody, and the final batch of summer pesto ( a combination of basil, mint, parsley, sunflower seeds, grated parmesan cheese and extra virgin olive oil) has been made and consumed.  The annual gazanias have gone to seed, the tomatoes and eggplant have yielded their final fruit, and the coleus looks ready to come inside for a winter over rest.




It is also time to reflect on what worked and what didn't, and how to make the whole thing better.  There are the perennials that have to be winterized for their survival.  I lost two fir trees and a hibiscus to the last brutal winter, and don't wish to have to go through that again.  I have learned that  it is not necessarily the lack of a good hydration system, but also the wind factor that takes its toll on perennial plants.  And the semi-salty air of the New York harbor does have an effect on the plants on my roof top deck/balcony.


Rosemary and oregano



The chocolate rose bush continues to bloom in its second season of summer, and the hearty rose bush I purchased with the gardener's  blessing at my local nursery is still thriving.  It is the same variety that grows along that overused and oftimes fume filled West Street in Manhattan, and so I expect it will winter over well here.  When I pull up the soon spent basil and tomato plants, I will plant some newly purchased tulip and daff bulbs.  I have been assured that these will do well in the large containers I have.  The hostas wintered over with some TLC, and that will be my routine with them again.  The blade grass will also winter over, I have heard, with some gentle TLC...sheltering it from too strong winter winds.                                                               

Hostas



Live Forever

My major concern is my new Mallow hibiscus; I was told it is winter hardy, but I still think I will wrap it to be on the safe side. I have been assured that plastic bubble wrap will suffice.  I also have a plant sometimes referred to as "Live-Forever", a tall green succulent with purplish tiny blossoms. That will also be wrapped. And after losing my tall rosemary bush last winder, I am bringing the newer one along with the mint, lavender and oregano inside to sit in a nice sunny spot until the spring when they will again go outside.

My next garden project is learning more about capturing rainwater for irrigating on roof tops...any suggestions out there?

Into the Woods

This past weekend I officiated at a wedding for a family member.  This professional couple in their thirties had each taken their time in choosing a mate.  The bride, a cousin of mine, had dated several men, a few of whom we all liked, but the one she married last week was definitely "a keeper".  And as many professional folks do when they finally decide to tie the knot, theirs was a "destination wedding".


"Destination weddings" have come into vogue in the past ten years. As is my wont, I have again consulted Wikipedia for a simple, and easy to understand definition of "destination wedding"; it points out; " Not to be confused with an elopement, a destination wedding is one in which a wedding is hosted, often in a vacation-like setting, at a location to which most of the invited guests must travel and often stay for several days. This could be a beach ceremony in the tropics, a lavish event in a metropolitan resort, or a simple ceremony at the home of a geographically distant friend or relative. During the recession of 2009, destination weddings continued to see growth compared to traditional weddings, as the typically smaller size results in lower costs."

The Clooney-Alamuddin wedding also happened this last weekend, and it was also a "destination wedding"...but one on steroids: three days of festivities in Venice of several parties, receptions and ceremonies.  Somehow, I don't thing this Clooney family feast was a low-cost affair; I suspect that once one tots up the amount of money spent by guests at the event on lodging, meals and transport, the cost of the wedding is quite high.       

We, on the other hand, did two days of cocktail parties and wedding ceremony and reception in lovely Roxbury, NY located in the middle of the Catskills and near by  ski country. The leaves were just at their first color turn, and the glowing reds and yellows mingled with the remaining green and the early morning mists gaving the place a surreal feel.

I stayed with three other family members in a rented weekend home tucked away, in the words of my cousin, "In the middle of frigging nowhere" over fifty miles from the New York Thruway which would bring us back to civilization once the festivities were over. The décor was...well, to put it nicely "rustic chic" with an homage to local fauna: bear skin rug, mounted antliers and deer skin stapled to a wall. 

A pre- wedding cocktail hour was in "downtown" Roxbury...an area about the size of two city blocks, at  local art gallery. 

The wedding was the next day at "Roxbury Barn" the reception in the bi-level barn, the cocktail hour in a pergola on the edge of a wood, and the ceremony within the woods itself. The majestic stand of trees surrounding the ceremony was kind of like a metaphor for marriage itself. Those of us who have ever entered into the state of matrimony can attest to the fact that it is like navigating through a dappled forest in which we discover and learn about oneself, one's partner and the fellow travelers along the way.
                                       

Oh, I also have a bit of advice for those attending an event that involves forest floors, gravel trails and old wooden barn planks: Do not wear four inch stiletto "do-me" shoes.  They impale leaves, get stuck in old barn floors and can cause an ankle to twist on a gravelly filled hillside path.  Just sayin'.
And oh, by the way: good luck to all the newlyweds: George Clooney included.

Fairness v. generosity

"...are you envious because I am generous?”

When I explained to my sister who lives in Connecticut, that I would be preaching this Sunday, she, being the well-adjusted middle child and the solidly anchored one, had a great idea for my sermon.  She knows and supports my addiction to reality television since she herself is a fan of “Dance Moms”. She sent me a link to a news item lamenting the fact that Mama June and Teddy Bear of “Honey Boo-Boo” fame are experiencing couple’s issues and are living separately while trying to “work things out”.  After milling that one over for about half a nano second, I rejected it as a part of this sermon, but I may just continue to monitor the situation on my own.  Instead I decided to think about the difference between “fairness” and “generosity”.

As some of you may know, I come from a tradition steeped in the labor movement in this city.  My father was a Teamster in the days of Jimmy Hoffa.  My uncle was a member of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers; my husband was a union official in the Communication Workers of America and not only am I a member of the United Federation of Teachers, I was the chapter leader at my school for ten years.

As a child I remember an aunt who used to remind us to hum the jingle used by the International Ladies Garment Workers Union that admonished everyone to “Look for the Union label”, when we shopped in local department stores for clothes.  I understood Fairness: fair wages, fair contracts, fair labor practices, fair work schedules. I knew “fair”, but perhaps not “generous”

A few weeks ago, I was privileged to accompany members of “Building Bridges” on a walking pilgrimage of our island and visited one of the most sacred labor sites in the City of New York.  In the Hebrew United Cemetery in Richmondtown , 22 victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire were laid to rest. The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in Manhattan, New York City on March 25, 1911 was the deadliest industrial disaster in the history of the city, and one of the deadliest in U.S. history. The fire caused the deaths of 146 garment workers – 123 women and 23 men – who died from the fire, smoke inhalation, or falling or jumping to their deaths. Most of the victims were recent Jewish and Italian immigrant women aged sixteen to twenty-three; of the victims whose ages are known, the oldest victim was 43, and the youngest was 14 years old.

One result of this horrific event was the creation of a Committee on Public Safety headed by Frances Perkins, a noted social worker, Episcopal churchwoman and later first Secretary of Labor under Franklin Delano Roosevelt. This group was commissioned to identify specific problems and lobby for new legislation, such as the bill to grant workers shorter hours in a work week.

In her role as Secretary of Labor, a post she held from 1933 until 1945, Perkins led the way in reform for workers. Her work for labor led to  the passage of Social Security Act, unemployment benefits, pensions for the many elderly Americans, and welfare for the poorest Americans . She pushed to reduce workplace accidents and helped craft laws against child labor. Through the Fair Labor Standards Act, she established the first minimum wage and overtime laws for American workers, and defined the standard forty-hour work week.

Perkins came of age at a time when many in the Judeo-Christian communities of New York City were talking about a “theology of generosity”, as opposed to a theology of righteousness. The theology of righteousness held that people get what they deserve, that their wealth and status are signs of their relationship with God. Simply put good, hardworking people get what they deserve, and sinful, lazy people get what they deserve. The theology of generosity, on the other hand, states that all we have is a gift from a generous God. The particulars may be influenced by our own effort, but the foundation is the generosity of God who gives to all people without regard to our particular circumstances or merit. Frances knew fair, but she also knew “generous”.

And “generous” is a far more difficult concept to grasp than “fair”. Recently I learned that the Mennonite group that had been living at St Charles Seminary and quietly doing Sandy Recovery work were heading home after over two years of generous service to the affected population on Staten island.  I had the privilege of meeting a few of these folks who quietly and respectfully shared their skills with homeowners who needed basic construction help done in a very professional and efficient manner.  They did not call attention to themselves. They did not seek out publicity for their latest “event” or invent local “stunts” to keep their name on the lips of local media.  They did the work they were called to do in a forthright and generous manner…and it will be their generosity that will be remembered here.  A generosity that reflects the spirit of today’s Gospel: something they did because they could; not to call attention to themselves, but because it was God’s call to them.  Let us try to emulate their generosity of spirit.

 

In search of masterpieces...

One thing I have learned from my many travels is that every destination claims to have a plethora of masterpieces for the visitor to visit and savor. Some are artistic, some architectural.  Others are of a more religious nature, and still others are just plain quirky and definitely in the eye of the beholder.

As a child growing up in mid-century New York City, I was exposed to several pieces which were said to be "masterpieces" of one kind or another.  These were mostly European masterpieces sent on loan for special showings in museums or other exhibition sites. I remember seeing Michelangelo's "Pieta" at the 1964 World's Fair in Flushing Meadows.  This statue was displayed in almost total darkness, boxed in a bullet-proof case with a single spotlight illuminating the sorrowful face of the mother holding her dead son.  We stood on a moving electronic walkway similar to those found in airports, but much slower that took us past the sculpture.

Years later, I was able to see it "in situ" at St Peter's Basilica.  I was able to get up closer to actually see the carefully carved folds in the clothing and the fine carving of the arms and limbs of the dead Christos as he is held by his sorrowful mother.

I was also able to see his "Mona Liza" at the Metropolitan Museum of Art when I was in high school.  So when I finally saw it at the Louvre, I was not surprised by its diminutive size. The Met also exhibited "The Book of Kells" when I was at Hunter College...a hop skip and a jump away.  I later saw this in Dublin at Trinity College...before they began charging people to take a look.  All three of these masterpieces certainly look better in the context of their surroundings. 

On a recent Christmas markets trip, I got to see lots of castles and churches that local folks claimed were national masterpieces.  I think the most impressive was the Cathedral in Cologne, Germany. It was quite large with scaffolding surrounding it...It seems it takes several years to clean it, and once it's done, it has to be re-cleaned from the beginning again...so it is a never-ending process.  Its outer layer is dark and towering, but you have to get inside to see the things that make it a wonderful space.  Its stain glass windows construct a multi-colored glass screen on all sides.  The craftsmanship of the stonework is superb; the wood working is amazing. It is a place of solace in a bustling city.

And grand it was, even in the dead of winter.  It also helps that the Christmas Markets are next door and they sell hot Gluwein.

But quirky is also good when it comes to masterpieces. And art is truly in the eye of the beholder.  I know some folks who eschew modern and post modern art. And still others who think Warhol is "old hat", but  his work is considered to be masterpieces of post modern society. His work has influenced several generations of graphic artists as varied as local graffiti practitioners to ad men of Madison Avenue who adopted his clean lines and interesting use of primary colors in packaging of all things from bubble gum to cigarettes.

His most famous protégé, Jean-Michel Basquait, started life as a graffiti artist.  He led a short heroin addicted life, and is buried in Brooklyn's Green-Wood cemetery where his grave marker is regaled with notes of love, packs of cigarettes, red lip-stick kisses, and flowers.  His art is quirky and still highly sought after. 

Well, I guess "masterpieces" are rather fluid things whose value depends on how important their admirers feel they are.  And what I think is a "masterpiece" may not make your list.  Vive la difference.

Things I have learned from reality T.V.

Honey Boo Boo

Over the past few years since my "official" retirement from the New York City Department of Education, I have sampled several"reality" shows on daytime television.  Some of them I found horrific, think "Honey Boo-Boo"...I viewed for half an hour and flipped the dial.  However, I did become mesmerized by "Gypsy Sisters", especially when they were discussing using motor oil as tanning lotion, but I soon snapped out of that.

Others were engaging for a time, "Keeping up with the Kardashians"...okay, I sneak a peak at that one at lest once a week...just keeping up. Still others have become a staple of my viewing history: "American Pickers" is an all-time favorite of mine as is  "Antiques Roadshow".  I like both the American and British versions and recently got to go to a taping of the American show in New York City.  I did not make the broadcast "cut", but got my vases/lamps appraised and a ring that belonged to my husband's grandfather. Lamps had been respectively a vase and a Chinese sculpture with a combined value of around $700, if they had NOT been made into lamps, double that figure.  So my first lesson learned from reality television is:

Jenners and Kardashians



 

1. Don't put holes in the bottom of vases and make lamps out of them. Your children and grandchildren will regret it if you do.

2.Always lower the toilet seat and shut the door when you are expecting company.  It is also nice to have individual soaps and nice towels out when guests come.  Thank you, Madison of "Million Dollar Listing: Los Angeles".  This is one thing that drives him a bit bonkers at open houses, even when they are not his.  He shuts the lids, fluffs the towels and discretely closes the door to the WC.

3. If you are going to have plastic surgery, don't use Bruce Jenner's doctor...just don't.  Have you seen him lately? 'nough said. (see above)




4. If an Abbey-esque person opens up a dance studio near your home, do NOT send your child there.




5. Learn to make a good roux.  That mixture of butter, flour and milk is the basis for so many good dishes.  Use sweet butter and whole milk...no skim or 2% will do.




6. Always have onions, garlic and celery around...it is the basis for many wonderful stews and soups.




7. Buy some good quality boxed stock (vegetable, chicken or beef) and keep it in your pantry.




8. If it seems too good to be true...it is.

St Nicklaus and "Black Pete" Amsterdam

9. Do not depend on Kris Jenner for any intelligent discussion of American History.  Her recent attempt to intelligently describe the rise of "black face" in late 18th century American Society was incorrect...you would be better off checking with the social historians about that unfortunate piece of Americana. During a recent trip to Vienna she was scandalized by the Viennese and their remarks that sounded racist to her.  She is correct to be outraged, but should have done her homework.  I myself have been shocked by remarks and traditions I witnessed in Central Europe that as an American I found to be racist, but I  learned about them beforehand and was able to respond accordingly.

10.  In the end, many of the young real estate tycoons finally realize that the most important aspect of their lives is not the "next deal", but the love and support they receive from family and spouses who keep them grounded and centered...an important lesson and a valuable one.

Race in America

Over this weekend there was a  rather significant demonstration in my neighborhood related to the issue of race in America. Race is, and has been for many years, the elephant in the living room in America. Ever since the arrival of Dutch traders in Virginia in 1609 with a cargo of African labor, race has been a polarizing divide in this country. In doing research on my Mother's family, the Conklings who settled in Colonial Massachusetts in 1535, I came across a bill of sale for a five year old slave girl named Phoebe.  She was sold to the Livingston family on Long Island for the goodly sum of 50 pounds sterling. The Conklings were glassmakers and later amassed land around the area of Southold on the North Fork of Long Island.  There are ample records that show many of them left slaves to their heirs in probated wills on record in New York prior to and post Revolution. The family was able to survive and prosper with the help of enslaved labor.


Slavery was not solely a Southern-based institution.There is ample historical proof that least 20% the population of New York City in pre-Revolutionary War time was made up of people held in involuntary servitude.  Unlike European indenture servants, who after an agreed upon time of service were free to pursue their own fortunes, slaves  were held in bondage for a lifetime.  And unlike Europeans who, once able to master the  language of commerce and trade, could easily "pass" into the dominant society relatively easily.  They "looked" right.  African slaves, due to the color of their skin, did not share that advantage.


Neither is segregation a thing of the past or only a problem in the Southern part of our nation.  As of today the three most segregated cities in the United States are Detroit, Milwaukee and my own hometown, New York City. The public schools in New York City are the most segregated in the nation. I certainly can attest to that.  In my 22 year career with the NYC DOE, I saw that segregation up close and personal.  My first week in the classroom in a public school, I asked why there were only three children of color in my top honors class, and 20 students of color in my academically challenged group.  I was told that is how the numbers fell.  I had come from a Lutheran school were my classes were evenly split racially and all were expected to achieve to the best of their ability and beyond. This attitude of blind acceptance on the part of the staff at my new school appalled me, but any attempt to buck the system was met with great resistance.  They would go by the numbers, and that was about it.


  So for many students of color it was a crap shoot, it depended on the attitude of those in charge of placement and balancing the size of the class as to where you wound up. And out of a staff of over 70, I can recall only 9 colleagues and one administrator who were African American in a school where 40% of the students were either African American or Hispanic.


This "crap shoot" mentality came back to haunt me this weekend, and not due to the demonstration and march led by the Rev'd Al Sharpton that began up the block from my apartment.  It was two articles in the local paper each one about a former student, one on Saturday and the other on Sunday.


These two young African American men were in the school around the same time. They were in the mid to low academic track...that is when we tracked students by perceived "ability" as reflected in standardized tests and teacher recommendation. They both had reputations for being "difficult" students.  They both lived in low income city housing projects with single mothers  who were discovering that their sons were becoming a "handful"...ie: growing quickly into adulthood. I think they might have shared the same circle of friends and shared in some misadventures.  But their paths must have diverged somewhere, and their lives took different courses.  One was recently sentenced to life in prison for his involvement in a gang related murder. The other just completed a supported artist-in-residency program at a local cultural center, and his work will be featured on display and for sale in a local gallery.


So, how does this happen?  One to be incarcerated for the rest of his young life, and the other on his way to a career as a noted graphic artist?  Is it just that "crap shoot" that worked out for one, but not the other?  Is there a lesson to be learned here? I think there is: Those of us who do have an unspoken advantaged purely due to circumstances of genetics need to be aware that "white privilege" does indeed exist, and has existed in this country even before its inception.  We all need to consciously work towards a better society where all of our children can have the opportunity to succeed creatively and positively.

Summertime...and the eating is easy.

What do I like most about summer?  I love the beautiful summer sun rises and sunsets that I get to view from my apartment.  I love that I can walk so short a distance and relax at Lyons Pool in Tompkinsville. And I love the plethora of flowering plants that assail the senses of sight and scent as we pass by them.  But the things I love most about summer is the ability to enjoy so many fresh fruits and vegetables in this season of plenteousness.

Melons, peaches, plums, nectarines, blackberries, tomatoes, peppers and various squashes are all  much more flavorful in summertime. Many of you have wonderful home gardens .  Connie Black and Shelia Hewitt  lovingly tend our own community gardens here at Christ Church.

But sometimes the home harvest can be overwhelming.  A family member recently begged me to take home some more summer squash as the family’s garden was in overtime production.  I took two…how much squash can one person be expected to eat in a week?  I know how difficult it can be to give away that green zucchini in August when the whole neighborhood is awash in squash, but there is a solution.

Are you willing to share your bounty with local families who are food insecure?  There are plenty of folks waiting on lines at food pantries across this island who would jump at the chance to get their hands on some fresh tomatoes, peppers, and even the ubiquitous zucchini to stretch their food budgets and offer healthy alternatives to their families.  You may not be aware, but here in New Brighton, we are in a food desert.  Not too many healthy choices in food selection can be made year round.

Our community garden here at Christ Church provides fresh produce for our Second Saturday program and sends excess to Richmond Senior Services for their choice food pantry.  And you can also get involved.

You can donate your bumper crops to a local food pantry or soup kitchen.  For folks who are dependent on Federal Food Stamps, the price of good produce can be prohibitive, but excess crops from home gardeners can be a great way to enjoy locally grown fresh foods.

So, if you can...give your extra tomatoes, peppers, eggplant and zucchini to some local folks who will really appreciate it, and not hide in the kitchen when you ring the front door with a basket full of your recent bumper crop.

And if you can include an easy recipe on how to use said fruit/veg....include it!  It will be much appreciated!

Bah! Humbug!

When did mainstream America become so mean-spirited?  A casual glance on local and national news outlets and following stories on social media has revealed a society that makes Ebenezer Scrooge look like a mere cream puff.


A recent poll on Huffington Post revealed that 56% of those polled were in favor of sending Central American refugee children home...no questions asked...just throw the  rabble out! About 40% of the same population were in favor of letting them remain until each got a hearing( called "due process"),and then throw them out, if the judge says so.


And as for "due process", people who are definitely NOT in the know are running their mouths about "teacher tenure"...which, for those who are outraged that educators have a job "for life",  means teachers are entitled to "due process" when it comes to arbitrary dismissal.  It was started as a response to chronic and systemic nepotism that was the pervasive way of doing business in school districts across the country in the 40's and 50's when the profession was top-heavy with women. A tenured teacher could not be dismissed for political or subjective reasons by her usually male superior who might want to give the position to a political crony's relative or to just a younger, and thus lesser salaried, person.  Don't kid yourselves, these things did and sometimes still do happen.  No teacher wants to protect an incompetent teacher or a teacher who is hurting students emotionally or physically.  They are a pox on the profession, and need to move on.  And, full disclosure here, I was a tenured teacher.


And it seems to me that more people than is logically possible claim to be spokesmen for various groups wrapping themselves in the mantel of justice...and this knife cuts both ways.


A recent horrific death occurred quite near my home.  A man, who the police have said was engaged in illegal activity of a minor nature, died in police custody under circumstances that are under investigation. He was selling loose cigarettes at a local park that is frequented by junkies.  The park, diagonally across the street from my home, is a respite of green criss-crossed with paths and benches and a fountain that no parent would let a child enter, nor would any local resident seeking a cool spot to sit and rest ever think of stopping there.


The community has been complaining for a long time that this place needed to be cleaned up, so the local precinct was sweeping by more often with this tragic result. There have been local demonstrations supporting both the police action and the grieving family the deceased left behind. A nationally-known, locally-based Civil Rights leader has taken up this tragedy as a personal quest and had announced a massive march and demonstration two weeks from this Saturday that would, in effect, close down the major artery than links this island with the rest of New York City: the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  He has announced that he has "earned" the right to criticize the Police Department.


This event has the potential of virtually grid locking this island, and backing up traffic to the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Our local politicians are outraged; the local populace is asking the mayor to intervene; the police commissioner says the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, not the mayor, has to approve closing the bridge.  The Metropolitan Transportation Authority says all the mayor has to do is ask them, and they would comply with the city's wishes. No one is happy; everyone is blaming everyone else, and it seems that there is no room for compromise.


What has happened to civil discourse?  Why is everything a "line in the sand" event?  Where are the cooler heads?  As a nation perhaps we need to take a step, or two, back and look at ourselves. This is not how mature adults act within the context of democracy...I could be wrong, but I doubt it.  We need to begin to think about how our actions impact "the other".


A recent guest on a local NPR radio show was taking about how Americans are isolated into circles of people with whom they feel comfortable.  Many of us don't even know our neighbors, and others have no interaction with people from different ethnic and economic groups.  This had led, according to the commentator, to an alienated society in which we box ourselves into smaller and smaller social units.  We need to begin conversations across these units if we are to survive as a society.