Fall Leaves: Rake Many, Turn a Few into a Turkey
By now, in Western New York, the fall foliage has long reached its peak of yellows and reds.
Now, when I look up at the massive sugar maples in my neighborhood (the ones that are covered with snow in my homepage picture), sadly the branches are mostly bare. The only color they will be covered with over the next four months or so, is white.
Wherever you are living now, I bet you are thinking: how to get rid of all the leaves? Rake them? Mulch them? Sick the leaf blower on them?
But before you rake, blow, or mow every last leaf away and before the snows fall, admire the carpets of red and yellow that lie at your feet.
Then, save a few of nature’s castoffs for craft supplies that can last the whole winter through. Here’s how:
- First, find a preschooler to help you with this task. They are low to the ground and can teach you how to appreciate the simple, beautiful perfection that is found in one leaf that is the color of fire.
- Then, show that preschooler a telephone book. Theirs will probably the last generation that will actually come in contact with one of these volumes of bound, thin yellow paper volumes. None of them I bet ever had a parent use them as a makeshift booster seat or a stepstool. Show them that these yellow or white clunky books were once used by people to look up numbers for plumbers or dog groomers but now come in handy for pressing leaves.
- Next take a few of your leafy treasures and pat them dry with a paper towel, and place them between the pages of the book.
- While the leaves are drying and pressing, read to them a wonderful book like Leaf Man, by Lois Ehlert to get inspiration as to what to do with all those pressed leaves.
Our preschool class used leaves to represent the feathers of turkeys in our thanksgiving cards, like this:
Fall leaves are abundant - and free - and make for great crafts like this turkey
Send me your comments and pictures about what you made with your leaves.
Sorry Yemen, your mail bombs didn’t stop the Global Day of Jewish Learning
Chef Tal Renan cooks up vegetarian food - just like he made for Oprah
The foiled Yemen plot to bomb synagogues in Chicago occurred so closely to two occasions on the Jewish calendar – one historic and one contemporary – you have to wonder if the timing was planned or if it was an eerie coincidence. Had some terrorist in Yemen checked a calendar to see if something important was coming up on the calendar within the global Jewish community?What if the terrorists from Yemen did intentionally plan the bombing of Jewish institutions one week before the Global Day of Jewish Learning, which was planned in 350 communities around the world? What if it had succeeded, as terror plots did against Jewish institutions in Mumbai, Buenos Aires, and Casablanca?In the spirit of this learning event that celebrated asking Big Questions, I’ll add mine: If the Yemen bombing had succeeded, would Jewish learning and teaching on November 7th still had happened?Thankfully, this time, we will never know. This past weekend, synagogues and Jewish community centers all over the world were brimming with people listening, speaking, dancing, drumming, and of course eating, in a Jewish way. The Global Day of Jewish learning was held in honor of an esteemed Jerusalem Rabbi, who on this day will finish five decades of work interpreting the Talmud, a sacred book of Jewish commentary, making it accessible and more understandable to today’s Jews. So no, in honor of this milestone that took a half-century to reach, we weren’t staying home on account of a package. We were ready to learn and tackle questions, in my community and others, like
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What is Jewish Mysticism?
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Why do Jewish holidays happen late or early, but never on time?
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How can God be both loving and mysterious?
And, in my household….
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When will the newest version of Shalom Sesame Come out?
In my community, we came out to listen to keynote speaker Rabbi Lawrence Kushner, author many books, including I’m God and You’re Not, wich was released this Fall We learned about Jewish vegetarian cooking from Chef Tal Ronen, who has cooked for Oprah Winfrey and the Dali Lama. Our kids learned Krav Maga, the Israeli martial arts, and explored Psalm 150 through drumming with percussionist Mike Mason.A separate track was offered for area Jewish educators, where we learned to fascinate our students with the art of storytelling, how to weave the narrative of Israel into any lesson, and how to excite and engage Jewish kids who, let’s be honest, may not be thrilled about coming to Hebrew School in the first place.The second occurrence on the Jewish calendar so close to these planned bombs from Yemen will be commemorated tomorrow. On November 9, 1938, the Nazis unfurled Kristalnacht, their own terror campaign, on the Jews of Germany. On the Night of Broken Glass, 1,350 Jewish synagogues were burnt to the ground or destroyed; over 91 Jews were killed; 30,000 Jews were thrown into concentration camps; 7,000 Jewish businesses were destroyed; and thousands of Jewish homes were ransacked. It was the beginning of the end of European Jewry in the 20th Century.It may seem like a date that is far in the past, but in light of the foiled attacks from Yemen, it brings it all too close to home.One thing that did keep the 600,000 Jews of Los Angeles away from their day of Jewish Learning was poor planning. Unfortunately, the LA Day of Jewish Learning was cancelled because of low enrollment. Why? A long-held community day of good deeds (mitzvot) was planned for the same day and the community just couldn’t compete with itself.Someone wasn’t checking their calendars.
Please don’t Bend the Truth – aka LIE – To Reporters
In the town where I live, I come across many active, vibrant senior citizens. We work out on the treadmill or the elliptical machines side by side. I peek in on their senior exercise classes and think, that’s how I want to be when – if – I reach that age. I want to be able to still walk on my own, lift a medicine ball over my head on my own.
Many of the seniors that I met at a local senior center were indeed very active. They take classes like Zumba Gold. Line Dancing. I wrote a column about senior programming that was long overdue. I stand guilty of concentrating a lot of my column on more youthful topics, like short-sided soccer and children’s theatre.
The seniors at this center who had just sat down for lunch were thrilled I was there and made me feel very welcome. Okay, they made me feel like a movie star. They were charming and friendly and had some interesting stories to share. One woman told me all about the trips she went on in Elderhostel and all the art she has seen the world over. Intrigued, I asked her more about her life. She said before she had children, she was a professor of fine arts at a local college.
Really? A lover of art, a former student of many art history classes, I was intrigued. I wanted to know more about this woman’s career. She had to be in her late seventies, so having such a profession in her time must have been ground breaking. I sat and chatted a bit more with her friends at this one table, and parted happy and satisfied that I had my story.
A day later, there was a message on my voice mail. It was the woman who I interviewed. The fine arts professor. She said that she may have bent the truth a bit about being a fine arts professor, and she was up at night worrying that I may have printed it, and please don’t print it.
Honestly, at that point I had not even started to write the piece, but I was planning on making this woman a prominent part of my story. I may have even called her to do a separate profile. So, I went through my notes and put a red line through what were untruths. I didn’t call her back.
Days later, she left another message. She was so sorry she had lied and was “worried to death” that I had printed what she said. Poor woman, I called her back to give her peace of mind.
Turns out she was a very sweet woman, she just lied. She said she had applied for an academic position at this college but was not given one. I guess that her feelings of resentment and rejection were long-lived. I told her no worries, I had not quoted her in my story after her initial message.
There are many temptations in our lives to lie, especially if we look back on our lives and wish that it had been a bit more exciting, more successful. How many times have we seen celebrities and politicians apologize for bending the truth to the media? How many times have we seen an author of a successful memoir later stand up and admit that they lied?
There has been much coverage about journalists losing sight of their ethical responsibility to report the truth. As traditional journalism disintegrates into the blogosphere, the truth becomes even more muddled. Last November, Arianna Huffington spoke at Ithaca College about the emerging crisis in mainstream media, about how the media does not cover what really happens in our communities but instead focuses on bogus stories to get ratings. She specifically referenced last fall’s “Balloon Boy” fiasco.
So here I am, writing for a traditional print newspaper, focusing my column about everyday people doing good in their towns. But if sweet little old ladies can lie to a lowly freelance reporter like me for a story about a senior citizen center, really, what hope is there for truth in journalism?
RENT, Red Ribbons and Rides: AIDS Awareness then and now
The first time I saw the musical RENT was on Broadway back in 1998. My husband surprised me with orchestra seats for our anniversary. He even arranged for our infant daughter to be watched by a friend who lived on the upper west side of Manhattan so we could enjoy our night on the town. As we exited the theatre, volunteers from the organization Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS gave out red ribbons in exchange for a small donation.
Flash forward to last week. That same 18-month old infant, now 13 years old, sat between my husband and me as we experienced a phenomenal performance of RENT at the Rochester Jewish Community Center’s Hart Theatre.
We prepared her for RENT’s mature themes days ahead and she listened to the show’s musical score for hours in the privacy of her room. During and after the performance, she made two striking comments that opened the doorway for several important conversations.
First, she was surprised at how many of the characters had AIDS. She didn’t realize the disease was “that contagious.” Now, I know that our school district starts AIDS education in the fifth grade. But I guess a pamphlet on the disease is no match to watching someone on stage who is portraying someone living with and then dying from AIDS.
Secondly, when the show was over and I told her about the red ribbons — and how red ribbons once seemed to be everywhere, on the lapel of a jacket by the ordinary person on the street, to adorning the sequined gowns of celebreties and entertainers on TV award shows. I remarked how odd it felt that the red ribbons should be absent at this performance. To my shock, she replied, “Well, mom, I guess AIDS is not such a big issue anymore.”
Yikes!
But then again, why would AIDS/HIV seem a big issue to her and her peers? Did it unfold itself on a daily, horrifying basis as it did when my generation, the Gen Xers, were coming of age in the 80s? And, why would it be a big issue for teens her age in this age? AIDS is not new anymore. An entire generation has gone by not even knowing that a time existed before AIDS.
Did she wake up one morning to her favorite radio station to learn that Freddy Mercury, one of the greatest voices of Rock ‘n Roll had confirmed the rumour that he was dying of AIDS? Sadly, my kids know about Freddy Mercury, but only posthumously. Or what about Magic Johnson? Can they appreciate the fact that he is still alive today after announcing he was infected with HIV nearly two decades ago? Do TV characters on the Disney Channel or any other program she watch portray those who suffer with AIDS/HIV, as the television shows like “ER,” “My So Called Life” and even “A Different World” did?
Then, it made me wonder, when was the last time the AIDS quilt was displayed, or pictures of it appeared in the media? She had never seen pieces of the AIDS quilt when it was small, or lived through the time as time went by that the AIDS quilt grew to the size of several football fields, and then to a size so big it could no longer be displayed in one place.
She didn’t ride the subways in NYC in the 1980s and 90s to see young people laying on the floor with a placard containing these words: Homeless with AIDS. Please Help.
Though there were no volunteers distributing red ribbons in the JCC lobby that evening, I did find a display with brochures for AIDS Red Ribbon Ride to benefit AIDS Care. That the JCC in its wisdom produced RENT, and that my daughter and many teens may not see AIDS as a contemporary issue, prove that there is still much work to be done. AIDS Care hopes to raise $50,000 from a combined five-day Finger Lakes tour on August 18-22 culminating with a separate one-day tour on August 22 to provide funding for AIDS education and services and clinical research for people living with AIDS/HIV.
In Monroe County New York, 2,026 people are diagnosed each year with HIV and 56,000 are infected annually nationwide. The AIDS Red Ribbon Ride will help those living with HIV/AIDS gain greater independence and get the treatment and care they need. Prevention services geared towards high-risk populations will ensure that future generations will not experience the same level of loss that we have faced in the last two decades.
One rider, Phyllis Fleischman of Pittsford, was so dedicated to this cause that she spoke to me while away on business in the Netherlands as to why she is participating. She and her cycling team over the last several years have raised $200,000 for AIDS research and services. As she makes her way along the 420-mile five-day course through the Finger Lakes region and back to Genesee Valley Park, it will be her team, and thinking about the people she will be helping, that will inspire her.
“When you ride with a team, it is the laughter, even in bad weather that keeps you going. Knowing you are doing something good gets you through the miles,” she said.
Quoting from the lyrics of RENT, there’s no day but today. If you would like to learn the details of the cycling course, participate in a riding team, volunteer or donate to the five-day-long fundraising event, visit www.AIDSRedRibbonRide.org, call 585-210-4183, or email jdavis@acRochester.org.
A lesson in art and New York City appreciation
Seeing New York City through my daughter’s eyes is quite refreshing. She loves the pizza, the culture, and the excitement, She was blown away by the hip-hop performers that flipped and jumped through a crowded uptown train. I also wondered, how did they do that without kicking anyone in the face and when do they find an empty car to practice?
And now, just like me, she loves the Metropolitan Museum of Art. As they get bigger, I want to expose my children to as much as possible of the city where I was born and raised. Good and bad. The culture definitely falls into the good column. I’d like to thank my parents, who for one summer, took my brother and I to a different museum in New York City every weekend. Even if my brother gaped at the nude paintings and sculptures.
I’d like to thank them for staying in New York City while so many other of their friends have moved away to Florida.
I’m also thankful for art history professors who sent us to the Met to see works of art up close and personal before we wrote our final papers on them. Visiting a building that contains so many masterpieces, seeing the actual brushwork, standing before a painting exactly where the artist once stood gave me an appreciation of color, line and composition that stays with me to this day.
It’s been 15 years since I have made a pilgrimage to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, a place that feels (I hate to say it) as sacred to me as the inside of a house of worship. It has been way too long. So off we went to the Met: my mom, Jolie and I.
At some point, surrounded by Picasso, I switched my cell phone off. This was holy ground and should be treated as such.
I watched Jolie work her way through the Picasso exhibit, then allowed her to pull me this way and that through European Baroque furniture, Greek and Roman sculpture, all the while looking for the next work of art to take in and all the while wishing she had taken her sketch book. And asking when would be the next time we would return to another day at the Met.
A switch has been turned on inside Jolie to love all that is great and cultural about New York City. But she could do without the noise, the smells, and the crowds. There was a bit of a learning curve with using her Metro card in the subway.
She has yet to understand that putting up with the city’s unpleasantries as they hang on to their claim to living in the Big Apple is what give New Yorkers their character. For her, she wouldn’t trade the relative peace and quiet of Rochester for the center-of-the-universe qualities of New York City. It is turning out to be a nice place to visit but she wouldn’t want to live there. It’s just not where she is from.
Rochester, in all fairness, with all of your wonderful quality of life aspects, your great suburban school districts, incredibly affordable housing and 10 minute commutes to anywhere, you are not New York City.
Yes, I have come to appreciate Rochester’s cultural treasures, like the Memorial Art Gallery, the Eastman House, and the eclectic Artisan Works. But nothing compares to the treasures that dirty, crowded, noisy New York City holds. When I describe any of Rochester’s “tourist attractions” to friends back in New York City, I always preface it with “for a city of its size, Rochester has …..”
The MAG can never be the Met, and that’s okay. It is 10 minutes from my house, contains wonderful sculpture gardens and amazing traveling exhibits of Monet, Degas, and O’Keeffe since I have lived in Rochester. It has free parking.
NYC friends and family: I love and miss you all very much in the months and years I do not see you and the few precious days I visit with you over lunch or a holiday meal while living up North. But I have decided that when visiting NYC, I need to start playing the tourist instead of spending much of my time in living rooms. Please try not to be offended and try to understand, and make plans to come along with me to a visit to the Met or MOMA next time I’m in town.
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Stacy Gittleman 