Mom

 So, Mom would have been 100 on the 15th of November. This was the last time I saw her in Connecticut when she was 97. I could not get back to you during COVID, so we left it at this. She no longer knew who I was, but I think she understood that I was someone close in her life. She was a caring mother who overcame her own challenges. She was perhaps the best 5th (and 6th) grade teacher that I ever observed. She had a scholarship to Cornell University after graduating high school a year early, but she could not afford the basics at that school and opted instead for Brooklyn College. She supported me in my sports and music and made sure that dyslexia would only make me stronger. She and I shared the horror of Dad dropping dead in front of us and my failed attempts to revive him and then weeks of grieving, with both of us having to get to our teaching jobs and perform in our schools only to come home to that sadness. She traveled, kept amazing journals, and understood that despite the fact she was not religious, her Judaism was a hallmark of who she was and would always be as it has been for me.

Rosh Hashanah Holid

*Note, this was something I wrote on an Instagram post asking us all to say "sorry" for the hostage situation.  I reflected on that and then wrote the following.  

I'll tell you I am not saying "sorry." I am saying my heart has been broken for a year. My heart asks for forgiveness for not being in Israel when the hell hit, when the fear hit, when the cries resounded all the way to the highest mountains in North Carolina, where we were on vacation. Back here, back here with rainstorms of missiles and sitting in saferooms that we knew needed to be built with enemies that care not for this land but only for our demise, I found myself the other night, the night of ballistic missiles with one-ton warheads, smiling. I was thinking that this is where I am supposed to be; this is where  I need to be until a quiet returns, until the hostages return, until true peace makes its way into the lands, into the minds of this region. I looked Rachel Goldberg-Polin in the eyes at the Shiva and said, "Sorry," but I wish I was more articulate when I spoke to her. I wish I said, "Forgive the powers that be that took your son and all the hostages on that day..." I am not clairvoyant, hell I can't tell you what will happen five minutes from now. I do my walks in Tel Aviv with a phone and, halfway into my walk, check the bombing reports to gauge my pace and, if need be, go a bit faster. I check my mental state and try to quell my anger at a University System of hate that learned from the evil of the 1930s where to start and how to start.  Smart kids.  They should be knighted by the brothers of hate or given a joint Noble award for a job well done.  The SJP, JVP, BLM, BDS, and all the other groups should seek further grants from their Qatari funders, who have given them so much.  If I were "sorry," I would only be sorry for not speaking louder years ago, back to the Mapping Project where Wellesley students made clear who to hate in their warped sense of justice.  I am sorry it took so long to speak; to my brothers and sisters who were taken on that horrible day, please be kind and forgive us for waiting so long to engage in this do-or-die battle.  

I Know Too Much

 The Things I Know

I know too much because I know more than you

I don’t cull my information from a newspaper

Don’t put myself smack dab in the middle of a protest march

Screaming slogans, somebody else wrote and orchestrated

I know too much because I know more than you

Been knowing them from a time over sixty years ago

Wrote my own words when I was a child

Choked back my own tears when I saw them on paper

Knowing that the injustices I saw

Against my people

Would always scar me

But would never sway me 

From doing what I thought was right

No matter, no matter

I know too much because I know more than you

I know how you scream and let the spittle run down your jawline

Just for show

Just to make an impact of your conviction to hide

The fact that it is far less than you

Want us to know

I know too much because I know more than you

I have spoken to the dead

Spoken to the loved ones of the dead

Spoken to those who are bound to die

Because they are fighting the real enemy

Because they are fighting you

Fighting you who know so little

Fighting you who really are so small

As you emphatically try to convince someone

Anyone

That you know something

Trying to convince yourself

That your hate is meaningful and justified

Even significant

Yet

I know too much

Because I know you

I know how flawed you really are.

Did I fix my Blog?

 So, it has been forever since I have cracked the Blogger code to publish anything.  This blog, which I started over 20 years ago, has stagnated.  Today, I attempted to go back yet again and see if I could tweak my info and finally get into it.  Just the fact that I am typing seems to suggest that I did the right things but I won't know until I hit the "publish" key.  

This blog has always been for me.  I get that nobody follows it.  Never meant it to be for that purpose.  I meant it only to record my adventures, my family, my poetry, my reflections on what exists and what I hope existed.  It is meant to be political and meant to be non-political.  It is meant to reflect the highs and lows of life and most of all, as an online journal of what I really think and really feel.  Perhaps one day my (step) grandkids will go back and read it and say, "Wow, so I now I better understand Jamie."  I would hope that they realize that being a good person is most important in this world and that they will hopefully explore a wonderous earth freely. 

Okay, time for the "publish" button.  Hope this work!   Oh, that's Sierra below.  She's a bit under 4 years old and is the most amazing dog I have ever seen.  I have loved all my dogs but never had an athlete like her.  She is small, stubborn, and at times has a heart of gold and at times will also growl and take a nip at you (not to hurt you but to instead just vent).  Long may she run.  

 

Gathering Time

 Gathering Time (Title of Simon Baxter's Book)

We

Well I

For I can only speak for myself-

Have had this lifelong project

To gather time

In words and memories

That traverse along a continuum 

That is tracked like a train across a Kansas prairie

Or a junkies arm

I don't know

Really

I don't know and even with directions

I wander off the path

Into the detritus of our cultural eclipses

Which pull us in like a magnetic north

Making us think we off in the correct direction

Only to find we have wandered to an edge of a cliff

Or a brick wall with a sign that says "You Have Arrived"

When in fact you are just lost

Just lost

I have gathered time

Used my rake to make piles of time

Like fall leaves in late October

Still flaked with colors

Yellows, oranges and reds

Making their way back into the earth

To feed the worms 

But this gathering

That's really what I started to say

Before I got sidetracked again on 

Kansas, junkies, and the North Pole

Is a lifelong agenda item

That pages itself on my to do list everyday

It too has fall colors and streaks of black and white

It too falls away each day and sinks down feather like

Somewhere I still cannot see

jrm

1/30/2022

Walking to Afghanistan

Walking to Afghanistan

Soon we will walk to Afghanistan because the oceans have all dried up

And the climate has changed

Changed our moods, our minds, and even changed the countries where we live

We will march with Burkas and Gucci handbags bought in Doha

We will have bandaids and moleskin for our blisters

Walking sticks from REI

Flashlights and bandanas on our heads

Tiki torches in our hands

We will be woke

We will be progressive

We will be far-right

We will be far-left

We will be angry at each other for being each other and not us

Our boots will stomp on the ground in front of the walls we put up

Our signs will signify our distaste for you

Then we will head home happy that we started our walk

Towards Afghanistan

Towards a new cause

Just

However

Wait a minute

Wait for that tolling of the ancient clock you have hung on your wall

Wait

Again, just wait

Until all of your sureness

All those facts and UN resolutions you have memorized to prove your point

Prove how terrible the investment in me

In my country

In my people

Really is

You were here to win a war

No, you were here to win hearts and minds

No, you were here to build us up so that we

Could resist

Could survive

Yet when you were done

You had a new plan

A better plan

Cost-saving

You moved on and shook our hands

Gave us bread and cheese

Left us with some spray paint to cover up the signs that you were here and had a purpose at some point

Now you are turning again

Trying to knock down my iron dome

Equivocating in simple words 

That should not be so equivocal 

Yet they are

Filling the college campuses with the fuel of your cause

Your narrative

Building your ground troops

Standing on your platforms

With megaphones to project

Dictaphones to record

iPhones to capture selfies

Ever so woke

While Afghanistan begins to fade

Into blue burkas 

Dust

Storm

While your footsteps fade 

From that landscape

2021 Opening Statement

 We live in this time when Presidents refuse to act presidential and are excused by their constituents because some of the things they do prove beneficial for the masses.   Yet, can good acts coverup corrupt deeds and comments that fuel hate and division?  

This past week, we saw a President gone wild.   During his four years in office, this President vilified those who held different viewpoints from his own, engaged in blatant acts that furthered the divide between diverse groups of Americans, belittled countless people, and engaged in acts that are proving to be detrimental to our environment.  Yet, people were willing to storm our Capitol in Washington to support his claim that the vote had been stolen.  They were willing to steal what they said was stolen from them.  To destroy property, make threats, spread vile hate theories, and find fault with all that do not hold their viewpoints.  All of this while the death toll from COVID soars over 4,000 people per day, and here in Israel, we are forced back into a very restrictive lockdown.  

The challenge with all of this is how to teach our students that they need to be honest, forthright, and brave.  They need to discuss all sides of an issue and recognize that to some degree, others may be more right than they are and that their point of view is flawed.  Or, they need to recognize that several variables may exist and that, like in many cases, they will come upon in life, there is more than one way to achieve a given goal.  They also need to put into practice that those who have a different viewpoint from their own should not be denigrated in any manner, for this only serves to further inflame the "conversation" and that once that fire is started, each side will become more resolute in the manner in which they cling to their beliefs.  

So I will make this personal because this is my blog, and nobody reads it, so what do I have to lose?   This has been a tough time for me, and in some respects, it has been a good time.  It has been tough because I have not been able to travel out of Israel and go back to New England to see mom, who is ensnarled in dementia and the confusion and paranoia that brings.  I have not been to my home in Vermont (though Connecticut will always be my true home) and walked the great woodlands with my socks tucked into my pants and long sleeves to keep myself from getting Lyme Disease.   I have learned much about the Golan during this time and have even learned how to better navigate and utilize the application AllTrials, which is truly amazing and helpful.   Eva and I have learned to better appreciate each other, which bodes well as I turn 64 next month and will only work one more year as an educator.  

Yet, I can't distance myself from the sadness that finds me staying up far too many nights.  This is a lifelong malady and certainly nothing new.  I worry.  I worry about myself, those around me, the polar bear, friends who battle illness, countries that deal with tyrants.   My greatest peace is found in nature, though, in some ways, that has been taken from me.  Even the city's view, which I loved so much, is being taken away as the distant cranes now surround me, and large apartments are not only blocking my view, but the amount of light we have coming into our apartment is slowly diminishing.   

We live in a time when Presidents refuse to be Presidental.  When corporate news programs dual it out with vocal sabers and those on each side wave banners of their own or wrap themselves tightly in these both figuratively and literally.   As smart as it is to have a strong value system, and it is important, you have to realize (well, I have to realize) that entrenched beliefs can also be dangerous.   That there is no conversation to be had with a person who believes that anyone who differs from him or her is stupid or blind.   Once you start pointing your finger, the conversation has stopped.   Once you storm the Capitol, the conversation has stopped.  Once you become so progressive that others can't progress, then the conversation has stopped.  

I am not convinced that our differences can be worked out or what divides so many in our world can be ameliorated.   We are too hopeful in our belief system, for we tend to associate with people who have similar views as our own.   We are frightened and repulsed by those with strongly dissimilar opinions, which is hardwired into our brains.   Although it is magnificent that we have such diversity in our genetic pool, it has proven detrimental to our species.   

Jamie-January 10, 2021  

A Place To View My Photographic Work

My main pursuit in life while not teaching, is my photography.  Though I sell images to a few stock agencies, my greatest joy is to make available prints and digital downloads from my photographic site.  So please take a moment to check out these images and if you like them, please considering getting one for yourself.  My Photographic Site

Each Of My Countries

To My Countries:  Why Do I Cry Out To You?

To each of my countries

I cry out to you

I expect more and I expect better

I know the statistics like the back of my hand

I know each and every instance that has made me 

Point my finger

At all of you

At all of us

Then right back at myself because  

I am unable to get you to make the needed changes

Or get it right when you get it wrong.

To each of my countries

You have seemed to try

But you are no better than your neighbors

You are no better than those you 

Hate with all your rhetoric 

You have justified and vilified with aplomb

So that even when it was justified

It seemed as if it was not

And you came off as being disingenuous

For they had heard it all before

And were not going to let you off the hook

Even if you were right.

To each of my countries, you have become

A fright among nations

But you are more dangerously

Hurting yourselves

You are threatening your existence

Your core

From within

Shaking your foundations

Grabbing at the pillars like Samson

Until the holy pillars will break

And nothing will be left but piles of stone.

I Miss My Forrest

It's been almost five weeks and the level of sadness that I have has diminished...until it hasn't.  I love you Forrest and last night I had the strangest dream that you were still alive.  In my dream, after I saw you, I realized that you were not alive.  Ensconced in this dream I began to cry.  In the dream.  This crazy dream woke me up and the next thing I knew, I was crying in my awakened state.

How one as small as you, as non-human as you, as smart as you have impacted me over these past almost 12 years.   It is inconceivable, still, that you are not here in our lives.  How I just feel so different without you here.

Writing For Peace

I wrote an article for the Brattleboro Reformer about the issues that never end here in the Middle East.  My goal, as always, is that we have to reset the clocks and look carefully at what caused us to hate each other so much and figure out a roadmap to peace.  Is it possible in my lifetime?  I hope that this article gets people to think.  I hope that it also reinforces that only if we discuss our narratives and accept that each of us have different ones. 

Click Here to Read the Article

Adrift

Adrift

I fell hard the other day upon my moral compass

It had lost its footing

Teetered for a bit

Then came crashing down

A thud

A whisper

A silence

It was broken into so many pieces

Shards of broken glass

That did not sparkle in the sun

The day was spent searching

Searching for a replacement

Perhaps a better compass

Stronger, newer, untainted

Yet what was wrong with my old model?

What didn’t I have that would have allowed it to stand for all my days?

What was missing?

Who was missing?

So I reflected

As I always have

As I always will do

We compromise

We capitulate

We abandon what has worked

For something better

Something different

Something with so much promise

We fail to recognize

That our true compass

Our true direction

Is a course that was set

At a very young age

When right and wrong

Was a consequence that was acknowledged

Was a way of life that was recognized and defined.

12/13/18

Testament To Hate

This is a testament to hate

You have dragged me yelling and screaming

Knocked me down with hollow headed bullets

And spit me out upon your dark web

But I am still here

You cannot kill me

Even when I am dead

And splintered on the floor

My 2-year-old body

My 54-year-old body

My 97-year-old body

My weeping family and friends

Will know who I was

And remember me after I am lowered into the ground

You cannot kill me

We have seen you before

In our ancient lands

In Spain, Portugal, and England

In Germany, Poland, and Ukraine

In Egypt, Iraq, Yemen, Libya, and Tunisia

We have seen you and know

How evil you are with your cool countenance

And measured words

But this is a testament to hate

This is the one where you will have

Your head filled with the faces of those

Too old to fight back

Fighting back

On another battlefield

Fighting back

In your dreams

Fighting back

In your hell

And your weapons of hate will be mollified

Leaving you exposed and weak

Let’s just cut to the chase

Cut to the part where you will weep

Where you will try to fool your cellmate

With your good intent as he shoves a shiv

Right down the middle

Koufax would have skipped Yom Kippur

To see that one

But this is a testament to hate

A testament to my hate

For knowing nothing

For knowing all

Without a textbook

Or an internet article or a meme

Without another UN Sanction

Or a BDS march on a Berkley campus

A march in London, Paris, or Charlotte

Just a clear testament with its roots in the past

That will not be allowed to grow

Without a fight.