And now for something completely different …

February 15, 2020 / IlanaB / 1 Comment

***This is a work of fiction. Mostly.***

INTERIOR, Oval Office

[Side view of Donald Trump staring out the window. He turns to face the camera.]

Yup. I’m still here. I know. I can’t believe it either. I mean, seriously, what does it take to get kicked out of this office?

Look. I know how I got here. America was mad at Washington and voted to shake things up. But I’m not sure you all planned for a tsunami.

I get it: elect someone who is famous for being famous and says things that you like to hear. “Drain the swamp!” But, folks, being president is supposed to be public service. Serve the public? Come on. I don’t even serve dinner.

How hard could it be to be president? Say stuff. Sign stuff. Shake hands and stuff. Being president is tougher than I thought.

I wanted out, like, A. S. A. P.

So I brought in massively unqualified people for Cabinet positions, and the turnover is insane, no stability at all. Absolutely no one should be surprised that I fire a lot of people, I mean, I’m famous for firing people (“You’re FIRED!” HA!). And I like to do it via Twitter because it’s so disrespectful and headline-grabbing.

I thought surely giving top secret information to the Russian ambassador would get me out of here. I mean, even Dersh thought it was pretty bad (although not criminal!). Nope.

I’ve met with Putin and Kim Jung Un. But there are no notes of our meetings. Is that any way to run official diplomacy? Apparently, it doesn’t bother anyone enough to get me the hell out of here.

I’ve said on many occasions that the world was laughing at us for paying for everything. I meant laughing figuratively. With me in office, they are literally laughing. On camera. At my expense. And unfortunately, at your expense too. After all, you elected me.

Well, to be totally accurate, I gamed the system. I said the Electoral College is rigged and my team used it to our advantage. It’s not rocket science, folks. Get a bunch of small population rural states to vote just a little bit more Republican and they’re in your pocket. A few big Democratic states aren’t going to beat that. So lose the popular vote and win the election.

Speaking of which. There’s that saying “show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are.” The friends who got me elected are in jail. To be honest, you’ll never prove my hands are dirty on this one. If you watch enough TV (and I do), they always say, “Follow the money.” There’s no money. It’s all loyalty. Remember the Teflon Don? The only reason they finally got him was someone turned on him who had nothing to lose. Everyone I know has something to lose.

I think some Americans might like that I tweet all the time. You feel like I’m talking to you personally. I talk like you (the best words!). I make typos like you (unpresidented). I make dumb mistakes like you do (why is Kansas City in Missouri?).

But did you forget my administration no longer has White House press briefings? Going on a year now. I control the message. I control the time, the place, the questions. I’ve called the press “the enemy of the people.” You know who loved that phrase? Stalin. And still. It’s not enough to get me out of here.

Speaking of my communication: I lie. A lot. I lie casually. “Hey, Janice, that skirt is so slimming!” (Not really.) “Hey, Jim, thanks for the feedback on the report.” (Not a single useful comment.) “Mexico is paying for the wall.” (Hardly.) Article II of the Constitution says “I can do anything I want as president.” (You probably haven’t read it, so you wouldn’t know.)

Why don’t I resign? Good question. Well, you know, I still love America. America has been good to me. I couldn’t be The Donald in any other country. Even if I’m not a leader by any stretch of the imagination, I feel a duty (if I can use that word) to roll back the carpet and show Americans that their apathy and ignorance have created a government of self-interested politicians looking to the next election rather than leaders who represent their constituents’ interests and serve the public that elected them.

I mean, come on. I was impeached, acquitted in the Senate, and then went on a vindictive firing spree (“You’re fired!” So much fun!). And I’m still here because your representatives in Congress can’t or won’t take action outside their party line. If they represent you and what you want for America, then they’re doing their jobs. But if they aren’t, get them out of there. The US government is not WWF Smackdown. Congresspeople should not be sinking to my level and crafting snarky one-line zingers. That’s not leadership, and it’s not the business of governing.

My sitting in this office is proof that the system is broken. Kowtowing to the party is proof that the people in Washington are not representing you or trying to make your life better; they are just sitting around collecting a salary and resting on their popularity in their home state. Electing more people like me will not fix the government; ignoring it won’t solve anything either.

Somebody – I don’t know who – said: All it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing. So if you sit on your ass on election day moaning about how your vote doesn’t matter, then the next four years of bad government are on you. You don’t just vote for a president, you vote for your representatives and senators. You live in a state, a county, and a town. The less you pay attention, the worse it’s going to be. Are the people running the country/state/county/town those who want to make it better for everyone? Or are they banking on winning a popularity contest for a salary and benefits?

I can see that nothing I do will get me out of here. I’m begging you voters: Get me out! I hate it here.

Democrats, I’m counting on you. Get your freaking ducks in a row. Get a candidate. Support that candidate. Vote. Remind your friends and family to vote. Do your civic duty!

If you don’t, four more years of this are on you personally. You’re going to see more taxpayer money stuffed into Mar-a-Lago’s (ok, my) pockets. Be thankful I’m golfing and not working. Who knows what other crazy stuff I’ll do at the office to try to get out of this awful job?

And I have to do all this dumb stuff every day so that you’ll pay attention. You’re tired of it? So am I! But you have to admit, you didn’t pay this much attention to Washington until I got here. You’re welcome, America!

[Trump picks up the phone.]

Yeah. Fire up the chopper. I’m on the way.

[Trump looks back at the camera.]

I gotta go. I’m gonna yell some nonsense at the reporters. I love how they run around on the lawn. It’s the only joy in my day.

(In case you forgot how the circus was supposed to work…)

2 Stories for Yom Kippur: Unexpected Bus Magic

October 9, 2019 / IlanaB / Leave a comment

I don’t know how it is where you are, but in Israel most buses have several places where seats face each other. I’m not sure if there is a special name for them. Quad-seats? There are usually two quad-seats in the front reserved for the elderly, and in the newer bus designs, there are several more in the back.

This past week I saw two episodes of Unexpected Magic. (To be honest, I wanted to write something optimistic. I mean, sheesh, are we going to have a government in Israel or a third election in a year? But I digress.)

On the Eve of Rosh Hashana

The #15 bus is crammed with people and their suitcases. Everyone needs to catch the last bus to wherever they’re going for the long holiday. After squeezing my way through the crowds, I find some breathing room at the back and a good place to stand. A few stops later, a seat opens up, and I’m all set.

At the next stop, a kid – 17-18 years old – gets on, and he looks rough. Not dirty exactly, but massively torn jeans, pierced nose, hair shaved on the sides of his head in a kind of messy, flat, dishwater blonde mohawk. He asks the older lady if he could sit by the window, but she points to her giant suitcase taking up two seats facing each other, plus her and another guy in the quad-seat. What could she do? He mumbles, “Why did you even put it there?” I can hear he has a slight Russian accent (maybe Ukrainian). I hope this isn’t the start of something unpleasant.

I see this kid take the suitcase – one-handed – from its perch on two seats, everyone shuffles around and the suitcase is now in the aisle. He takes his seat, pulls out the handle of the suitcase, and sticks his arm through it so it won’t roll away. Then he pulls out a pair of Chinese Medicine Balls and starts a calming clockwise rotation.

I know what they are because I have a set too

The lady asks what they are and he answers that they are a tool to help him stop smoking.

“Oh, but you’re so young! It’s good that you’re stopping now.”

“Yeah, I have this great doctor and he recommended them. They help a lot.”

And the conversation continues from there for a good ten minutes until the end of the ride. He was quite respectful and she was genuinely curious. It was the best way to ride into Rosh Hashana – the New Year.

And yes, he took her giant suitcase off the bus for her.

Morning Commute

The morning commute is filled with people ignoring each other by being deeply interested in their phones. This morning, there is a woman in the quad-seat at the back of the bus on her own. No one would sit next to her. She looks hostile, and at one point, she jumps out of her seat to open the window and use her newspaper to swat the seats in front of her.

At one stop, as the bus gets more crowded, a woman makes a move to sit in the nearly empty quad-seat, gives the woman sitting there one look, and moves to another seat.

Everyone gives the hostile woman and this quad-seat a wide berth. Mentally ill? Drugs? We don’t know and all we are interested in is our phones.

Then a Haredi lady gets on the bus trying to wrangle two kids (they look like twins about 3-4 years old), she has a baby in a carriage that needs to get strapped into the carriage area. And all this has to happen on a moving bus.

The only seats available are in the quad-seat.

She hasn’t seen all that happened before, so she directs her kids to the back-facing seats. And the woman everyone has avoided carefully picks up each kid and puts them into the seats. When the slightly stressed mother carrying her infant comes to join her kids, the woman moves to the window seat, shuts her eyes and leans hard into the window. But the Haredi mother thanks her, blesses her, and tells her what a big help she is. The poor woman, who is probably not well, has a hard time with this, but knows she did the right thing.

What I Learned

If you look, you’ll find beautiful things happening all around you. You just have to pay attention and celebrate the Unexpected Magic that presents itself to you.

Headlines are just click bait. What really matters is the everyday encounters that remind us the world is not all that bad.

And that is a great way to start the Jewish New Year! May we all be inscribed in the Book of Life!

Goodbye 2018!

December 31, 2018 / IlanaB / 3 Comments

~~ My computer is back! ~~

It’s good to take a minute and look back over the year.

My goals for this blog were to write about life in Israel and make a practice of showing up to the page. I can count this year as a success for both those goals. I wrote fewer words overall than in years past and fewer blog posts, but I hope that means my writing is becoming sharper and more concise (probably not always…).

People visited my page from 54 countries!

Leaving aside the United States (#1) and Israel (#2), the top 10 countries were:

Germany

Finland

Canada

United Kingdom

Australia

India

Japan

Italy

China

Ireland

Surprises further down the list:

Six people from United Arab Emirates visited.

Four people from Pakistan stopped by.

One person each came from Bangladesh, Gibraltar, and Fiji.

Overall, I had more visitors this year than in years past and I had the most visitors in September.

I’m hesitant to write resolutions for 2019 for this blog, but my hopes are to write about different things (life in Israel will still be the main topic), try some experimental posts (I’m not sure about this yet), and write more reviews of things I’m listening to, reading, and watching (I’ve had a lot of fun with those posts this year).

I know. Hopes won’t get you anywhere unless you have a plan. I’m working on it.

Happy New Year!

Wishing you all good things for 2019!

May it be the best year yet!

Review – Bohemian Rhapsody

November 9, 2018November 10, 2018 / IlanaB / Leave a comment

Short Review

Bohemian Rhapsody is a celebration of Queen’s music featuring a loving tribute to Freddie Mercury. Don’t expect a documentary or a traditional biography. This is a perfectly cast love letter to Queen fans around the world. And if you ever liked any Queen songs, you’ll enjoy this movie. I give it two thumbs up!

(Really) Long Review

Spoilers below the trailer

***

The first Queen song I ever heard was “Another One Bites the Dust.” I was 9 and my Mormon best friend warned me that we shouldn’t listen to it because it was about drugs. Not being one to just blindly ban music, I listened carefully to the lyrics and decided that it was about gangsters, and the more I listened, the more I liked it. How could something with such a slick bass line be bad?

I wouldn’t consider myself a Queen fan, but Queen was definitely part of the soundtrack of my life. I know most of the songs, but they are interspersed among Big-Hair-Bands of the 1980s, the oldies played by 94.5 KATS FM, the new and shiny videos on MTV back in the day when they played music 24/7, and British New Wave Bands.

Queen showed up again at my high school pep rallies. Stomp. Stomp. Clap. Stomp. Stomp. Clap. As we shook the bleachers, we solemnly vowed to rock our opponents. And when we won, we were the champions with no time for losers. We were the champions of the world!

It was Wayne’s World that finally brought “Bohemian Rhapsody” into my consciousness.

Even now, when I finish a big project, I play “We are the Champions!” and march around the living room with my fists in the air. When I’m frustrated and need some inspiration, “I Want to Break Free!” When a series of projects gets finished, “Another One Bites the Dust.”

I saw Bohemian Rhapsody on opening night. It wasn’t my plan, it just worked out that way. Almost every Israeli I’ve spoken to is a big Queen fan, which explains why the movie is playing on three screens in one theater.

This movie is a celebration of Queen’s music and a way to introduce it to a new generation of fans. Interspersed with the story of the music is the story of Freddie Mercury, a complex person who was much more than the stage persona. The movie is called Bohemian Rhapsody and when you put all the pieces together you can understand why.

Definition of rhapsody

…

4: a musical composition of irregular form having an improvisatory character

Every role in this film is perfectly cast. Rami Malek plays Freddie – well, he doesn’t just play him, he becomes him. Brian May’s wife came on set and was apparently shocked by how much Gwilym Lee looked like Brian at that age. Joe Mazzello called his mother to confirm his parentage because he looked so much like John Deacon. And Roger Taylor could be Ben Hardy’s uncle.

In case you’re confused, the bottom picture is from the film. 🙂

Somewhere along the way, you are perfectly cast in the film too. You aren’t an observer of the film, you’re a participant in the story. Two notes and one chord in, you know the song. You laugh along with the band and their jokes. You hang out at the parties. You’re in the audience when the spectacle of Queen is on stage.

More than that, we are with Freddie at his highs and his lows. The saddest moment in the film, and one of the most powerful, is when Freddie gets his diagnosis. He goes alone to the clinic and we see the doctor reflected in Freddie’s mirrored sunglasses. We don’t hear what he’s saying, but we know. And then the reflection shows the floor. That split second was probably more devastating than hearing the diagnosis and seeing a reaction. As Freddie walks out, a fan – obviously sick – recognizes him and softly sings: “Ey Oh!” And Freddie answers back: “Ey Oh!” He was alone and yet we were all there with him.

Superfans will rankle at the fact that Freddie didn’t actually get his diagnosis until 1987 and this is meant to be 1985. Superfans might be annoyed by many details in this movie. (Rami’s eyes aren’t brown!)

But we have to acknowledge that this movie is not a lot of things.

It’s not a Hero’s Journey. Disney is the master for heroes on a journey. Freddie was Freddie and nothing more or less.

It’s not a documentary. There’s plenty of footage on Youtube if you want that.

It’s not a biography. Freddie didn’t write all the songs and he wasn’t alone in the band. He was larger than life on stage, but this story is not exactly about him. He is interwoven in the music.

It’s not a story of coming to terms with one’s sexual orientation, or redemption, or a son finally earning the approval of his father. It’s all there, but none of that is the story.

It’s not a reenactment of a rock-and-roll lifestyle.
(Attention parents who want to share their love of Queen with their kids: It has a PG-13 rating; much of the darkness and hedonism is softened. There are hints, though.)

It’s not a finely crafted, manicured storyline. (See the definition of rhapsody above.) It’s kind of a mess that has a more or less linear timeline. Kind-of like life. And that’s what makes it feel real.

It’s not … well, true. Lots of things are accurate to the smallest detail, but a lot of things are written off to “poetic license.” If anyone believes that in the same afternoon Freddie found his final life partner after visiting every Jim Hutton in the whole London telephone book, introduced him to his family, reconciled with his father, and then played Live Aid, well, clearly that person lives in an awesome fantasyland.

Fun Points:

The Live Aid concert was filmed note for note, step for step. Watching the Live Aid footage afterwards, I was stunned at how accurate it was.

Mike Myers is in the movie playing the record exec refusing to promote “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Says he: “No one will ever be driving in their car banging their heads to this song.” HA!

In the press interviews, it’s clear that all the actors took their roles extremely seriously and will carry their characters with them. This was a special experience for them and you see it on the screen, and more importantly, you feel it. The actors also carry the burden of responsibility for the message that they want the movie to send:

Be who you are.

Embrace all your idiosyncrasies and imperfections.

You are not alone.

In answer to the question: Is this a good movie?

The answer is a resounding YES.

If a movie stays with you for days afterwards, if you are scouring the internet looking for more and more and more information, if you find yourself suddenly a Queen superfan, then there’s no question it’s a good movie.

Go see it!

Mourning in the Morning – Pt. 2

March 24, 2016 / IlanaB / 1 Comment

Cynics who think everything is random chaos and coincidence should stop reading right now. This post is not for you.

Those of you who are a little bit cynical might think, well, you know, your mind is focusing on certain things right now, so of course you’d be attuned to them and you would see some kind of pattern.

Those of you who are religious might see the hand of God.

And those of you who are spiritual on any level might just see that there is a force bigger than ourselves (call it what you will) that gives us what we need when we need it.

Carl Jung called meaningful coincidences synchronicity. And unsurprisingly, I recently saw an article on the science of Synchronicity.

In mourning my dad’s death, I feel as if the Universe has set up a safety net that I can fall into and is shining a light down a path that I can take to wrap my head around losing my dad and find a way to move forward.

Before my dad left this world, there were a few cultural icons from my youth who died after short, secret battles with cancer. I’m specifically thinking of David Bowie and Alan Rickman who died within days of each other. As I was thinking about their deaths in the following weeks, my dad faced his “terminal” diagnosis.

My dad, David, died on March 1, which is coincidentally St. David’s Day in Wales.

When my brother called to tell me the news, my pants suddenly tore. One Jewish ritual is to rend garments when mourning – usually the tear is closer to the heart – but since my garments spontaneously rended, they didn’t have a lot of choice and chose a path of least resistance.

The morning after I got the news, I had planned to have oatmeal for breakfast, but I was out, so I had eggs instead. What I didn’t know until later was that the first meal for mourners is traditionally eggs to symbolize life. Coincidentally, Mom, on the other side of the world, also bought eggs.

I had already made an appointment with my acupuncturist. I didn’t cancel it after Dad died because I knew that at that point I needed it more than ever. I mentioned to her that I was waking up between 4am and 5am. In Chinese medicine, 3am to 5am is the time the lung meridian is active. The lung meridian holds grief.

A few days later, I got an email offering a free, 4-part series on yogic breathing exercises.

A few days after Dad died I had a dream that I was robbed. My house had been ransacked and I felt so violated and angry that it had happened while I was asleep. I woke with heart palpitations and in a total panic. When I mentioned the dream to a friend, he said that, in fact, something valuable was suddenly taken from me. Ah. Indeed it was. (Thanks to BR.)

The usual emails came in from various lists I subscribe to and they all had something to offer. Like, a book advertisement for The Mourning After or a book recommendation for Cry, Heart, but Never Break. An article on the new moon led to a site on mourning.

IMG_20160309_165720 I mentioned in my earlier post that I didn’t sit shiva in the usual way, but I felt that I should do something similar and meaningful to me. Luckily, since this is Israel, my local grocery store has a stock of memorial candles, including a special 7-day memorial candle.

As it happened, the candle burned for almost 9 days. That allowed time for my friend to take me to lunch at a plant nursery and buy new plants for my sadly neglected boxes. I planted the new plants while the candle still burned, so now when I look at the flowers, I feel that there is bridge between mourning my dad and the inevitable continuation of life after. (Thanks to MR.)

A few days after Dad passed away, Nancy Reagan died and the US consulate next door flew the flag at half mast. I knew it was for Nancy Reagan, but it felt like it was for Dad too.

IMG_20160324_131728 (1)

Then there was the marathon (see my earlier post).

Once Upon a Time, one of several shows I watch, has taken all their characters down to the Underworld.

Even with all the coincidences, there was one thing I did on purpose. I listened to a lecture series on Death, Dying and the Afterlife. I didn’t buy it because I’m morbid or needed the intellectual stimulation. I had suggested buying it for my dad because I thought it might help him get through his last months or weeks, though it turned out to be only days. As advertised it did celebrate life, after all, and I wondered how Dad would have responded to some of the lectures. So as I listened and questioned and wondered, I felt that I was listening with Dad.

Little by little, day by day, I’m moving forward. I am comforted by the synchronicity, the meaningful coincidences, that buoy me as I find my way in the world without my dad.

David Brown z”l

O Jerusalem

October 4, 2015October 4, 2015 / IlanaB / Leave a comment

4:30am

I awoke from a pleasant funny dream. One cat curled behind my knees and another cat giving me what she considers a “massage.” All the lights were on. I had fallen asleep on the couch again.

I put myself to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. One siren. Two sirens. Lots more sirens. I learned in my first years living in Israel that one or two sirens was probably an accident, but three signaled the likelihood of a terrorist attack. Suddenly I was AWAKE. What was going on?

Voices shouting on my street. Subtle sirens. Light honking. I got up and went out onto my porch. It looked like a brawl in the park. I used my phone to Google current events. Stabbings, more stabbings, brawls, violence.

Soon the crowd dispersed from my street. And eventually, I fell asleep. How I wanted to be back in my pleasant funny dream again.

Just another glorious day in paradise.

4:30pm

Sirens all day. Helicopters patrolling. Peeks at the news. Why is there one terrible story after another? Violence. Idiotic international media. Funerals. Sadness. Hatred. It’s just a vortex of negativity. I understand the benefits of a “news fast,” but how else will I know what’s happening on my own street, in my own neighborhood, in my city? I sure as hell don’t want to investigate it myself.

There were a lot of great and joyful things that happened in the past week and they will all be overshadowed by the violence.

I’m sad, but I’m not anxious. I won’t throw myself in the middle of any dangerous situations, but I am not afraid. Jerusalem is still my city. It’s the eternal city and we’ll get through this too.

*Normally I write a Friday post, but today isn’t Friday. It feels like Friday though because it’s the evening before a holiday.