Uncategorized

“SO”

/ howardshapiro / 17 Comments

I so did not want to begin this long overdue blog with “so”. But here goes.

So, what is motivating me? Why after almost a year have, I decided to go back to this blog? One reason: I got billed by WordPress.com for my annual subscription and the cost of the domain name: rabbiunplugged.com. So, (here’s that conjunction again) I said: either turn off “auto-pay” or get back in the groove and resume blogging. The other: I see this as a legacy piece – and when the years ahead of you are predictably shorter than longer, you get to think about these things – at least you do when you’re in my business. And I can’t but not admit that when you tell me that you miss my thoughts or ask me did I unsubscribe you, I can’t help (let’s be honest) but be flattered.

So, another beginning. Isn’t that the truth – there is always another beginning. It is almost my personal definition of faith. Every morning brings me another opportunity to both bless the moment and be a blessing. (I know a lot of you like the political commentary better than the religious/spiritual stuff – but hey: it’s me – rabbi unplugged writing.) Faith is knowing you have choices. Sometimes they are bright and colorful, and the pale pink of dawn gives way to a bottomless blue sky. Sometimes the choices are different shades of gray leaning away from the light. Sometimes we like the choices the moment presents; sometimes not. But here’s the thing: faith is knowing you have the power to choose how you will respond even if you do not appreciate the choices.

Like my knees. They have recently decided to tell me that they are tired – not so tired that they want “out” – not yet. But fatigued enough that they want help. So, I succumbed and got gel injections. They told me it would take about a week to begin to work and ease the pain of walking up stairs and doing squats/lunges/getting out of chairs, hiking and should last about 6 months. Although friends who are “gel junkies” report that they last 6 months cause that’s how often Medicare will pay, and the pain abates and returns, and this is no magic bullet.

But what is? Life, especially the getting older phase, is about managing your bodies’ changes. And that includes your mind and memory. And that includes your definition of good or well. It is somewhat relative. And that includes how you define your reason for being. Are you here to make yourself happy? Are you here to have as many toys as possible? Are you here to make your passage through this world a blessing? And how do you do that?

So, my knees say: it’s not by playing pickle ball. So, maybe in the next blog I’ll have a better answer. But “so” is a conjunction and it is good to be back in touch.

365

/ howardshapiro / 7 Comments

Don’t Ask Me Why

Don’t ask me why because I am not sure I can give you a compelling or cogent answer. But every day I spend ten to twenty minutes on either my phone or iPad on an App called Duolingo. I follow a set set of modulated steps to teach me Español. (Impressed yet?). Today is my one year anniversary.

The mechanics of the site are amazing and just a tad annoying. Amazing that they give built in reminders to keep you on track and annoying that they know too much about my study habits. (They also have this set of sounds that mark your progress from one lesson to another, from one success to the next and when I make a mistake later in the lesson they will repeat the same word or phrase in a different format to reinforce your learning. The sounds tend to grate just a tad.)

I pay for all of this annually and it might be the only app I am financially committed to. One of the stars of the app is Zari. She pops up to encourage and congratulate you with fairly banal attempts at humor and motivation. It’s definitely working. I can be dead tired but will remember at 11:00 pm that I forgot to study and will take my iPhone to bed and do my daily ministration. Zari then has some comment like: “Wow, you’re up late.” The app is pretty comprehensive but there are a couple of things I would like it to do differently. Like I would prefer learning a personalized set of phrases and vocabulary on my terms. Like do I need to know how to say “I shower before breakfast?”

But you don’t get to choose what lessons life is going to teach you nor in what order you will become proficient in living. So, why Spanish. Because I live in South Florida and do I need to say more. Because South America is on my bucket list. Because I love paella but minus the chorizo. Because why not? They say learning a language is great for your brain. And anything that helps. Sometimes I think I should be perfecting my Hebrew. A friend of mine is doing Duo for Arabic. But I remind myself I’m “unplugged” and that means I can choose the “shoulds” I listen to.

Buenos Días Mis Amigos. Gracias por leer.

Like a Bridge

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

I do a lot of walking (the more impressive term is “hiking”) here in NC. When I am with people, we talk. We talk about the trails; we talk about the things we are seeing; we talk about our destination; we talk about other people (don’t judge); politics; health; movies; music; what’s streaming; religion; how much longer; you name it. But when I walk alone I put in my earbuds and either an audio book accompanies me or a podcast or music I have downloaded from somewhere.

Today I am listening to a podcast recommended by a friend who shares my love for Leonard Cohen and who is taking a chance that I like Paul Simon. (I do.) Malcolm Gladwell is interviewing Paul Simon on his career, his music, his creative genius, his work ethic, his origin story, his “mentors”. It is called, “Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon.” It is riveting. (I found it on Audible.) It is a good thing that I am pretty much alone on these wooded paths, because I am listening, walking, singing. Like in the shower – no one around – no inhibitions.

I learned so much about the songs, about the arc of Simon’s career, about his creative process, music of his youth, musicians he collaborated with, and musical traditions he traveled the world to learn from. Way back when I was still living in Springfield, New Jersey, I was so captivated by Sounds of Silence that I used it as a basis for a sermon. There is poetry in the lyrics: “Hello darkness my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again because a vision softly creeping …” I have the sermon in a cardboard box filled with blue 5X7 cards with my words typed in black ribboned ink on a baby blue Smith Corona electric. I can’t replicate my original message right now, but in this fractured America we are living through I hear the words of prophet written on the subway walls … people talking without speaking, people hearing without listening…

And I wonder at the sanity of it all. As I listened to the podcast I was sure that I was going to use the words of a different classic of Simon and Garfunkel to jump off from for this blog. “When you’re weary feeling small … ” But words often take you to places you do not recognize and unless you are disciplined you can wind up in a different key. But one thing is clear to me. We need a bridge in this country we call home; we need to find ways we can talk with each other and move forward together. This stalemate in government and this privilege of sitting inside the Washington beltway and ignoring the issues of gun control and women’s rights, a planet that keeps heating and the rising prices of silence – in the words of the prophet – like a cancer grows.

In Florida there is a primary coming up. I’m waiting for my ballot to be forwarded so I can vote for candidates who know how to build bridges.

Musings

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

I don’t know about you but every day that I get up in the morning and see the sun rising I know I am blessed. I don’t know about you but every day when I get up in the morning and get out of bed without pain in unexpected places, I feel lucky. I don’t know about you but anytime my nose runs or my throat tickles or I cough I fleetingly ask myself is this COVID. We live in unsettling times. There is almost no such thing as normal. We think we are in control of what will happen tomorrow or the day after and the airlines throw a curve ball, or the weather does a number, or the rapid test shows two lines, and you are screwed.

It’s not that I am in a bad place. Not at all. I am aware how amazing my life is and that I live in interesting times. Not that they are perfect. Not that they aren’t worrisome. Not that sometimes I feel like we are living on the edge of a precipice. And tomorrow is either free fall into an unknown abyss worthy of depiction in a movie about the apocalypse or we are on the border of a new epoch about to soar into horizons we can barely imagine. There are so many things I don’t know.

I don’t know what it felt like to live as a Jew branded with a yellow star or cone or hat in some European ghetto or Middle Eastern Mellah. I don’t know what it felt like to live as a serf on land that was not my own in a time when life was valued by what you could produce and not by who you were. (Although we are not so distant from the same kind of yardstick). I don’t know what it was like to live without antibiotics or modern medicine when a simple cut could end your life. Or maybe I do – maybe we all do. This pandemic has certainly humbled us and taught that the simple act of covering your face can keep you safer. And things we once took for granted like sitting in a theater or dancing the hora (I just came from a beautiful wedding) or dining inside a restaurant can’t be taken for granted. Neither can attending a 4th of July parade.

I don’t even know what there is to say about all these guns. I don’t know why anyone needs semi-automatic weapons. There are no dinosaurs roaming our streets. There are no lions lurking in the tall grasses. There are no marauding masses breaking down the barricades. Most of us live in relative safety. Why the guns, the guns, the guns? The politically correct thing is to applaud the “bipartisan” gun bill just passed. But this is what I know. It is not enough. Not enough. Not enough. And I feel powerless to make effective change. I know: VOTE. I know: SPEAK OUT. I know: GIVE MONEY/TIME. But in the words of the prophet called Pete: “When will they every learn; when will they ever learn?” I don’t know about you but the fireworks didn’t do it for me the other night.

from the bottom up

/ howardshapiro / 3 Comments

I feel so stupid starting off with a couple of stalks of flowers, when children are being killed in classrooms; the newest television series is produced by the January 6th committee; the rights of women to control their bodies seems to be eroding; there is a war in Europe and Ukrainians are dying for our freedom; and every day the cost of everything seems to be rising. I bought two ice cream cones yesterday at over $5.00 each. (Granted they were waffle cones, but they were classified as smalls.) And there is nothing complete about this list.

There is so much happening in our world it is hard to focus on the simple things that remind us that we are not the only living things that inhabit this orb that is steadily hurling through space in a predictable arc. I am looking at the last flowers of the Hollyhocks proudly blooming. They seem to bloom from the bottom up which by the way takes me right back to the politics of this fragile democracy we call America. It too blossoms and flourishes from the bottom up. My reading of American history is that the framers of our political system wanted our representatives to be responsive to us. They are not landed gentry; they are not noble men and women who are entitled to power based on their class. They are us and are supposed to be listening to us. When they don’t, America is precariously close to being broken.

I remember the wild hollyhocks from my youth when they would grow alongside the grey cement walls of the apartment building in Dorchester or maybe even the one we lived in before that in Roxbury. It’s a long time ago and almost the length of the Atlantic seashore away. I doubt if anyone planted them. In the world I remember no one had time to plant flowers. If you planted anything it was vegetables – most likely tomatoes – or am I confusing my Jewish upbringing with an idealized version of our Italian neighbors. And is all of this memory pieced together from the movies and stereotypes?

I didn’t plant these hollyhocks where they are growing now. When I bought them at a local nursery, they told me they would blossom every other year. So, I placed them near the house where I would remember to watch over them and patiently wait. But they had a mind of their own and somehow, they wound up happily flourishing near the tree halfway down the hill. I guess the world has a mind of its own; we probably should listen to it more often.

God Laughs

/ howardshapiro / 20 Comments

According to the Yiddish proverb, this is what happens when you plan. God laughs.

It is Sunday morning. Dani and Corey get married tonight. Eileen and I flew up to NY on Wednesday to be here for Sammy’s graduation on Thursday and the graduation party on Saturday. And this is all one week after we missed going to LA for Tali’s USC graduation the week before which we watched streamed because of a Covid scare.

So many blessings and celebrations. So many new clothes to buy. The suit for tonight was the hardest; the white shirt was a close second.  That’s because I don’t fit into an athletic fit (duh) and am too thin across the shoulders for what used to be called a “regular” and too thick around the middle for most “slims” and besides they only work if they have a 35-sleeve length not 34/35. (You didn’t know it was so complicated or all this about my body.)

Of course, I left the white shirt home.

Which is one of the lessons of the day. What made me think people would be looking at me? (Well to be a little bit fair, I was officiating.) The bride and groom were stunningly beautiful and handsome. So happy and so comfortable in the controlled mayhem that accompanied pictures, the venue, the logistics, the wedding planner’s timeline – they handled it all with grace, laughter, and ease. It was amazing. The whole month has been filled with passages: two graduations, a wedding, and a confirmation. The whole month has been filled with God moments. The God I believe in doesn’t pull strings, manipulating human behavior as a master marionette. The God I believe in laughs as I plan. The God I believe in is the spirit of gratitude, appreciation. The God I believe in resides in the holiness of these passages. And every wrinkle and kink are reminders of my humanity – flawed but not sinful, imperfect but not guilty, but oh so capable of love and appreciation.

So, the shirt I found to wear was not a perfect background for my tie. But it wasn’t about me. (You knew that from the beginning.). It is about transitions and tomorrow. It is about life’s journeys, time turning and the next generation. How “lucky” (read blessed) to be alive in this moment. It doesn’t matter to me what my theology of the day is (or the color of my shirt). It matters that I can feel how profound the moment. It is what I mean when I praise the Source of creation who has preserved me in life, kept me in health and brought me to this moment.

Do I hear an AMEN?

Lessons from the Paint Can

/ howardshapiro / 7 Comments
White Dripping Paint On White Surface Free Stock Photo and Image

We watched Survivor last weekend on HBO MAX. We chose it as one of the ways we would observe Yom HaShoah. I was surprised how graphic some of the concentration camp scenes were and how bloody the boxing matches. It is the story of Harry Haft who survived Auschwitz by boxing for his captors and after the war lives in New York searching for his pre-war girlfriend. Near the end of the movie, one of the characters sings “God Bless America” in Yiddish. I found that moment especially touching. Maybe it was its inherent softness winding down this tough and sometimes brutal film. Maybe I was just manipulated by the story line and the film editor or director.

Or maybe it made me think how lucky we are to have been born in this land filled with so many blessings and so many challenges. My grandparents who left their home and left their past must have been desperate to risk so much to find a better life. I think there could be a film made of all our ancestors who began the long walk from dusty villages and oppressive cities to these shores that promised freedom. I think we underestimate their courage.

I only remember my father’s parents. My mother was an orphan by the age of 12. She was raised by her older sister, Aunt Molly whose husband was a house painter. He sat on my shoulder this afternoon as I painted squares of different colors of white on the walls in our apartment so we could decide which shade of white to paint. Here’s an easy confession and an obvious statement. I am a messy painter – I know there’s a way to keep the paint on the walls and off my hands, floor, and clothes, but Uncle Harry isn’t here to teach me. Thank God for water soluble paint.,

And what is it that we are being taught these days? That you can paint over truth? That you can whitewash the sometimes harsh and sometimes unsettling realities of the past? That you don’t have to pay attention to the way things were and if you have the power, you can paint the present with the colors of your choosing? My grandparents didn’t come to a land where the streets were paved with gold. They come to a tough country where you had to claw your way to survival. All of ours did. They fought with all their beings to realize their dreams. So what if the paint drips. Clean it up and try again.

Things are getting dark and dirty here. I guess my lesson to myself is – can’t step back and disengage. I hear Rabbi Tarfon: It is not your obligation to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it. The fight for freedoms just got harder: time to get back into the ring. I am starting here:  https://www.plannedparenthood.org/

And So I Begin (Again)

/ howardshapiro / 23 Comments

Eileen does not do digital fluidly. So, we have a drawer full of recipes she has printed from any number of internet sources. Yesterday I decided that I would begin to enter them into a recipe file on my desktop. I began by typing them. Then I figured out that I could take a picture of them with my phone and air drop them to my computer. That works with those recipes that are one pagers. I don’t know how to combine multi-page recipes into one doc. We all have our limitations, that’s for sure.

Now it is amazing to me that I have decided to go back to blogging and begin with food. Well, it is Passover and for some reason I am always hungry. And believe me I eat plenty of Matzah: Matzah with whipped butter and salt; matzah with thick strawberry jam; gluten free onion matzah with just about anything that isn’t sweet. Left over Sephardic charoset (the kind that is pasty) as candy. And those dark chocolate covered apricots they sell in Costco…. Don’t ask.

Which brings me back to why I am beginning again with food. Cause I can’t handle the world. There is a reason why some of my sunflowers hangs their heads in shame. They can’t look. It is too painful. The weight of the nightly news oppresses. Better to look away and find other distractions. I am guessing that if there are any of you who are still willing to read my “unplugged”, you are disappointed.

I am also. I don’t believe we have the luxury or a right to “look away”. Isn’t that the sin of all good people? And I’ve made my donations to Ukraine and HIAS and candidates I believe in; and I wear a mask on a plane; and I got my fourth booster; and I follow the news both morning and night; ….

But this is just almost too much. Maybe I’m just old. And it is easier to do wordle than to engage the world. Yea…. I agree. I need a more up lifting ending. But maybe you begin by recognizing where you are. And I am ashamed of the state of my mind, the state of my state and the state of our world. And I don’t see myself as depressed. I feel I am just stating what is real.

Enough. Tomorrow is a new day and a new dawn and the possibility of new blessings.

sunflowers-1-1Download
sunflowers-Download

Upping the Ante

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

Last night was billed as one of the best nights to go out and see meteor showers in Western North Carolina. The moon was cooperating and fairly new; the clouds decided to remain on the edges; the air was cool, and I even put on a light sweatshirt. They said the show would be best after midnight and even better before dawn. But that time frame was not really realistic for me, so just after ten, I shut off all the lights in the house, took a flashlight and went out to the deck and lay down, my eyes scanning the sky.

I wish I had a camera that could have captured the moment. Well, not right away – it takes a while for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and begin to see what is really there, a universe so vast and awesome that I know these words are a feeble attempt to describe. The frogs were croaking down at the edge of the water; the cicadas were louder, buzzing and pitching a symphony of vibrations; the shadowed outline of the treetops politely framed my canvas and there I was alone yet a part of a whole I tried very hard to comprehend. The poetry of the Psalmist helped especially the question: “When I see your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars you fixed firm. What is man that you should note him and the human creature that you pay him heed…” (Psalm 8:4 – Robert Alter translation). Theology aside, the Biblical poet captured my feelings.

Who am I in the scheme of this vastness? Why am I here and where is here anyway? The Perseid meteor shower did not disappoint. At first, they were just like darts of light playing with my mind. They would appear and disappear in the space of an instant. But then God decided to up the ante and show me awe and amazement. It came from the northeast and shot across the night sky. Brighter and more intense than the stars in the background it was an arrow of light pointing to infinity. I use the word God as an anthology of thoughts and emotions – I have no pretense in believing that I know what the word means besides it points to a vastness of unlimited potential. Besides it pushes me to see the beauty and mystery of existence. Besides it offers me the opportunity to reflect on my place on this planet that is spinning through space and time surrounded by sparks of creation’s light. 

I wanted there to be more biggies – more arrows, more shooting streaks of light, more exclamation points but one is what I got. One is all I needed. One is all there is.

I CAN’T PUTT!

/ howardshapiro / 9 Comments

II played at golf yesterday at a beautiful course near Waynesville, NC. There were lots of streams, water hazards, elevations, and great views of the mountains. There were several holes on the back nine especially where you couldn’t see the green or the flag. But on one of the holes, I managed to get up to the edge of the green with an uncharacteristically good shot. I knew that as I started to walk up to my ball that all I needed was my putter. As I got closer, I heard myself complaining: “I can’t putt!”   “That should be the title of your next blog,” Jim announced. So, here we go. “I can’t putt” really meant that I misjudged the place where the ball landed. I can’t putt meant I was beating up on myself just a little. I can’t putt meant I was feeling stupid. Golf is good for that.

If the closest you come to liking golf is the soft velvety voices of the announcers narrating the golf matches on the weekends; their mellow tones a perfect sedative and almost always a guarantee for a good nap, then I thank you for reading this far. And this blog isn’t about golf or the things we can’t do. It is about humility and resolve; it is about being willing to fail before you succeed and enjoying the process because that is what life is. There’s no such thing as perfect.

There is almost. There is so much that is out of our control. Being human is living with limits. Not to get maudlin but we all have a hard end to our strivings. That limit looms over all we do even if we are not conscious of it at every minute. So we fill our days with things that we hope will make us healthier, happier, smarter, richer, more proficient, more more more. And we fill our lives with possessions that we think we need to live a rewarding life.

I can putt by the way. I just can’t putt perfectly and consistently. I think perfection and consistency are overrated. I think there are great lessons to be learned and a lot of laughter and joy to be discovered when the ball rims the cup. It sort of depends on your approach to the game. My religious or spiritual truth does not call me to flawlessness. It invites me to try, to strive, to struggle with whatever morning brings and start each day with gratitude that this life is overflowing with blessings.

But enough. I am feeling so privileged – like in White Privilege – but that’s a different blog. One day ……..

More

/ howardshapiro / 22 Comments

Today is our 55th Anniversary. (I stopped at that word anniversary and wondered should it be capitalized or not. I decided it was a big enough deal that it deserved all the attention it could get.) We were married on Saturday night June 25th, 1966, in Teaneck, New Jersey. It was a big and lavish wedding. The kind that couldn’t begin till after sunset because the family Rabbi wouldn’t begin to travel from Queens to Teaneck till there were three stars in the sky. Dinner was served around 11:00 and you went home with the NY Times. We went to Bermuda on our honeymoon and began a life filled with lots and lots of love and lots and lots of laughter and lots and lots of challenges and lots and lots of compromise and lots and lots of blessings.

The secret to our marriage is simple. It is Eileen, known today as “GE”. She is first and foremost the one person in the world who really knows me. She is my best of besties. She knows what makes me laugh; what makes me cry; what I am proud of; what I am ashamed of; what I wish were different; what I wish will continue forever. She is a storyteller and a gift giver. She can tell you the story of how we met and what she said to me at the wedding of our friends’ when I asked her to dance. I still remember the black long dress with the white decolletage. She had ample cleavage to make it more than memorable. She gives gifts for every occasion to people I think we barely know. But try and buy her a gift!

Her greatest gift is her gift of love; a love that is laced with understanding and ‘negotiation’; a love that is littered with encouragement and wisdom; a love that makes me a better person and can’t be limited by words on a page. Has it been easy and without bumps? This is life I am talking about. This is being a clergy family I am reflecting on. She hates the word “Rebbitzen” but ask her to tell you the story that happened in the kitchen of the Temple’s Social Hall and let me tell you she has been the best Rabbinic spouse there could be because she defined her role as CEO – chief encouragement officer. And first in line to critique and first in line to keep me in line. And she lived her own professional life from teacher to Julia Child to mother to Holocaust Educator to teacher again and always.

Has it been perfect? Life is not a Hallmark Card. Has it been wonderful? It has been passionate; it has been crazy fun and crazy maddening. The arc of our love hasn’t been symmetrical, but it has soared, and it has filled and completed me in ways I never expected.  Yes! It’s been wonderful. And here is the best part; It has been together and it’s not over. The song we danced to at our wedding was “More”. To more and to whatever we have left: I love you.

ps – you will have to ask her the story of the Mustang

They Call It Savoring

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

I love changing the desktop background on my laptop. Every few weeks I right click on the screen and look for a new photo that matches my mood. They almost always come from the arsenal of digital photos that live in my cloud. This is a Baobab tree in South Africa that can’t get enough of the world it inhabits. I didn’t know the concept when I took this picture, but it would definitely live in my gratitude album today.

It’s really a simple idea that I read about in a Times ten-day challenge to learn new habits for mindful living. It is day eight. Some of the other techniques are equally fascinating like the five-finger breathing meditation and the exercise snack. (Instead of reaching for a cookie, reach for the wall and do a set of wall push-ups.) Then have the cookie, just kidding (about the cookie not the push-up).

Here’s my take on gratitude photography and why it works for me. I carry my phone with me almost everywhere I go – my note-taker, calendar, teacher, shopping cart, and a window to the world. But for this: my easy access camera.

Gratitude photography suggests that we notice the things and people around us we often take for granted. Gratitude photography invites you to be surprised by the world you live in. I’ve begun doing it on my morning walk. The very act of observing the mushroom growing out of the gravel; the fire hydrant on the edge of the lake; the minivan on its final journey that gave 16 years of service; the smile on someone you love; the green that is like no other green of the moss after it rains.

They call it savoring; making an effort to notice our surroundings and appreciate the people, things and relationships that make us happy. I don’t know if it is a game changer but according to the article scientists say that savoring exercises “can lead to meaningful gains in happiness and well-being.” I’ll go with that. So, I am trying it. One a day if possible. I don’t think it has to be the most well crafted photograph. It invites you to notice, appreciate and be grateful. It is one of the pathways to joy. Here’s two.

Gratitude Photos

,