Returning Home

BY RABBI DAVID WOLPE
In leaving there is discovery: Only when he wanders is Jacob granted a vision. Moses must go to Midian to find God. The Israelites throughout history have only in exile grasped the spiritual contours of home.
All of us raise children in the hope that they will treasure the values we have taught them at home. But we also realize that those values will never be fully realized until our children go off on their own. You cannot know your home if your home is all you know. Out in the world, amid the jostling of other values, ideas and rich possibilities, is the potential to appreciate what one has already learned.
Abraham was told that his descendants would need to one day leave Israel, endure hardship and return to savor its beauty. This is the reverse wisdom of Thomas Wolfe's admonition that you cannot go home again. At times that is true; yet equally if paradoxically, you cannot truly understand home until you have left and go home again.
As Eliot wrote in "Little Gidding," the last of his four quartets:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

on the opposite side of the universe...

...my very poor low-wage vietnamese nail salon goddess insisted I come in for a free mani/pedi.

We crossed paths on the sidewalk last night, we smiled and said "hello!!!" to each other. She said "you not come for long time"

I said "I not work for long time" followed by a sad-pouty face.

To prove myself, I showed my gnarly hands and said "see! Look how disgusting my hands are - so sad!"

She replied "You come in, I do your nails. Free. You come in!"

I cried-

I guess it does pay to be kind and tip well.

Let them eat cake!

ok I used to write funny tidbits I observed, but this past year my writing has been decidedly depressing and self-pitying...

so...

let's change it up-- anger. Uncontrolled, deep rage.

As I read about everyone losing their jobs, and taxpayers paying billions for bail-outs of companies badly run by...clearly MORONS...I want to stand up and SCREEEEEAM as loud as I can. so loud they can hear me over the bloody muslim gunfire in New Delhi and Mumbai.

What--- WHAT is happening with the people, the men, who have made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision?!?! Why do THEY keep their million dollar jobs while the just-getting-by-despite-doing-a-great-jobs all become jobless?!?!

A producer at kcrw just lost her job due to budget cuts due to the recession. After a bloody year of pain and pundits wondering "hmm I wonder if we'll sink into a recession" they FINALLY formally decide we're in one. and have BEEN IN ONE SINCE LAST YEAR. NO F*CKING KIDDING!!! and the stocks....LOL.. the stocks- they plummet after this announcement? Was this really truly news to these people?!

WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?~!?~?~ oh yeah, gazillionaires who most likely were raised by bazillionaires and thus have NO IDEA WHAT THE REAL WORLD is.

Back to the jobless producer-- she said "funny, all of those who successfully built lauded and profitable projects lose their jobs. But the top executives who have been bungling everything for years, they still have their million dollar jobs?!"

exactly

WHEN DO WE GET TO SEE HEADS ROLL?!

I haven't had heat in 4 months. I lost the job I was supposed to start in August becuase they had a hiring freeze. Because CA is bankrupt and it's unemployment staff woefully overwhelmed, I was subjected to a 20min verbally abusive tirade that was supposed to be an interview. Followed by a letter accusing me of lying about my conditions of unemployment and telling me I get NO UNEMPLOYMENT BENEFITS + I have to pay a $500 PENALTY for lying. I filed an appeal, natch. But until I have my court date, the state will take out the penalty from my bank account with no warning. And hold on to the checks I'm supposed to receive. And because the state of California is in such a mess the earliest court date I can expect is sometime in January. I appealed in October. I've not received a check from the state since early September. Oh my f*cking G*d.

I've been paying into unemployment for 25 years! I have not filed for unemployment before because, this is a strange concept, I LIVE FRUGALLY AND SAVE for days I may be jobless!! Well the well has run dry George- and where are you?! Typically, your hiding at the time your country needs you the most. Thank G*D we elected a man who's actually willing to WORK for a living.

I'm about to sublet my apartment and move in with family because despite my intelligence, education, and job experience, I can't pay rent on a moderate apartment. My cousin may have to move in with HIS family -- him, his wife, and their 2 kids.

And I'm supposed to be impressed because the CEO of Ford will work for a dollar. oh boohoo what a hero- That dip in pay certainly will hurt someone who has MILLIONS IN SAVINGS AND ASSETS.

One reason I left my job was my pure and deep disgust for the upper management of the company. The President is a moron who's filled with self-adoration. He announced the company would not be giving bonuses to it's lowest-status (i.e. most overworked and poorest) staff. We were also told raises could not be very good this year due to budget constraints. But, after seeing the jaguar one of his department presidents drives, he announced "ooo! I want to buy that for my teenaged daughter!"

I'm done DONE with the stupid, selfish, clueless upper management in this country. When do we hold the revolt? When do we storm the bastille? Why are we not storming the white house each time a group of overpaid morons begs for handouts in their $3000 suit and $1000 shoes. Delivered in private jets. Driven in limousines. Why are we not rocking them over like we do taxi cabs after winning sports championships? Why not raid and loot the upper offices of Enron, Haliburton, Fannie Mae with the same anger and vigor given to poor local merchants in a poor town after a major hurricane and flood?

If the president of my last employer lived in revolutionary France, his name would be Marie Antoinette. Let them eat cake!

Nostalgia and that pit at the bottom of your stomach

I've always snickered at people reminiscing "remember when..."

Typically these 2 words were the beginning of a long recollection of high school or college events. I have no fondness for my high school or college days. I felt forced to go to both. Looked at both as merely something to get out of the way to please my government and my mother.

But when I finally graduated, I was free, finally 100% free to do what I wanted with my life. And I soared.

I adopted a 10-wk kitten, all black, he was "this close" to be euthanized at the humane society. The staff lined up and cheered as he was carried from his cage to my lap. I named him Mikhail, called him Misha, and only spoke Russian to him.

I got myself a scholarship to a dance studio on the north side of Chicago. For the first time in my life....in 13 years of desperately wanting to study dance...I was free to study dance 9am-6pm Monday-Friday. All I had to do in exchange was sweep floors, wash mirrors, and be good. And write a paper here and there on dance legends. I learned about Katherine Dunham at that studio. And how she discovered a new genre of dance while working on her PhD in Anthropology at the University of Chicago. I decided if the dancing didnt' work out, I'd get my PhD in Anthropology from the University of Chicago. Maybe discover a new genre of dance. Maybe not.

I danced all day every day. Then on the weekends I danced more in rehearsals for shows. Late night drinks with fellow dancers. Home to my wee black kitten for fetch and mousies and Russian.

I got myself an apartment-- top floor of a 3-flat-- on Sheffield just north of Belmont. How convenient... My favorite hobby was dancing until 3am at the Avalon on Belmont. Just 2 doors East of Sheffield.

Rent was $230/month. I had a closet-less room in a 2 1/2 bedroom (I had the 1/2). I was able to move myself in 3 car trips.

Oh yea, this was after I landed an apprenticeship with a world class Graham company-- Joseph Holmes Dance Chicago. I still danced all day, rehearsed all day, swept floors, pulled pubic hairs out of shower drains, took out the garbage. Lived on bananas, peanut butter, yogurt, pasta. Cheap but filling for an athlete. Dream life for a dancer forbidden to dance until she finished college.

Then an audition for one of the best dance companies in the world- and the artistic director pointing me out the entire time. And him coming up to me a week later to gush about how beautiful a dancer I am. And how the only reason he didn't hire me was he needed to get a mature redhead and I was too young at 23. I immediately dyed my hair red and started booking dance jobs left/right.

Meeting Gwen Verdon. and Twyla Tharp. Playing with Lou's dog and impressing him with my knowledge of vet medicine.

And the owner of Avalon introduced me to the owner of The Vic. So I had myself an amazing bartending job where I made oodles of cash in 5 hr shifts. 1 block from home. Partied with legends of rock. Was set up with a famous comedian. Only to learn- as he asked me to go to Glee Club with him the following night- that he's gay. oopsie!

Members of Jesus and the Mary Chain making cocktails for me backstage at their Metro Show for which they gave me all-access passes. "You served us, so now we'll serve you!" How fun to watch beautiful Ken get to flirt with Hope Sandoval. He had such an adorable crush-

Dancing in a sun costume while my dear sweet friend, Ben, told the 6th graders in that south-side school all about the solar system. Laughing at the vast difference between the response of the rich white kids vs. the poor black kids. And how the poor black kids were definitely the more enjoyable audience.

Getting smashed at Market Days...Frank Orrall getting ready to spin on the corner of Halsted and Roscoe-- but the sky breaks open rain thrashes down upon us as we defy nature and continue to dance. And Frank defies electrocution and continues to spin. And everyone is wet and everyone is sweaty and everyone is drunk and everyone is giggling. and smiling. and happy. And it gets so dangerous with the lightening striking the small DJ stage, the music has to stop. But the dancing continues. and the bars are bursting. and the crowd is laughing. and wet. and sweaty. and smiling. and Halsted Street, from Belmont up to Addison thumps thumps until 4am as we continue to dance and sweat and drink and laugh and flirt and giggle.

And I sit here today in a generic coffee shop on Montana Avenue. 6 blocks from the Pacific Ocean. 2 blocks from home. A infinite distance from the laughing the dancing the sweating the smiling the giggling the drinking the flirting the spinning the music. The happy.

The eternal nights that last until we stumble to Nookies for a 6am breakfast before going home and to bed.

The cozy Saturday nights in January all bundled up with the kitties and some movies and the radiator banging heat into my wee historic landmark studio off Lake Michigan. The 11pm call from Heather "what are you doing?! I wanna get out! Meet me at Delilah's at midnight baby" I jump in the shower, put on my favorite dance clothes and grab a taxi in front of my building. 40 degrees below zero but I dont' need a coat. The Bailey's I put in my coffee while getting ready has deadened my skin's ability to read cold. Heather's sitting on a barstool dragging another puff from her Virginia Slim Ultra Slim Menthol Light. Rolling her eyes at the yuppies making fun of her tattoos and scars and combat boots. But we sit down and drink our martini's because the owner is a friend and it's sometimes more fun to be surrounded by yuppies tearing us down vs. hipsters supporting us.

And I scour the photos on Facebook. All the black and white images from Avalon, China Club, Shelter, Metro, Smart Bar...What happened to Augenblick? Henry? He's Liz Phair's favorite bartender...maybe she knows. I miss Henry and his late night after hours and his surprise order "the owner insists you drink these shots NOW!". I miss the snow. I miss struggling and fighting and laughing trying to get to the taxi in my wornout combat boots despite the 2 inch thick layer of ice and the winds so strong they literally blow me into the intersection.

And my heart hurts missing that happiness. And the success. and the hope. and the arrogance. and the spite. and the fire. and the rebellion. The hot coffee with baileys in a basement coffee shop on Dearborn. The soap-soaked skin in a club on Halsted. The random meetings with long lost friends both of us drunk at 2am and confessing we've loved each other since we were 13.

Don't bother mentioning high school or college. I'm so glad to put those behind me and forget them. But the 8 years between college and moving to LA. Those were the most glorious. Sometimes the most painful. But overall the most beautiful. It was the sunbeams that break through after a lifetime of rain. Rainbow years. I do wish I had a time machine to go back. Just for a week. Just so I can feel happiness.

To be reminded what it is to be happy.

YOU are the change you've been waiting for

Response to Shawn to emailed me: Great job! Like Barack said--YOU made the difference!! :D

we all did :-)

I firmly believe many laws have passed and elections lost due to too many people thinking their vote or voice didn't count enough to be missed. This year millions of Americans FINALLY realized their opinion CAN make a difference and thus made bloody certain they spoke up, lined up, and voted. Honestly the hundreds of people (all sorts of people- not the usual political junkies and activist hippies) who showed up every weekend to my phone bank here in Santa Monica begging "how can I help?! Give me those phone numbers to call!" coupled with news footage of long lines waiting up to 4 hours to vote.......THAT's what made me cry in relief and pride for my country.

Can Obama make the changes he promised? who knows. Hopefully yes.

One thing he's ALREADY changed is all of us. Somehow there's something about him which inspired millions of non-voters to get to the polls this year. I spoked with a 31yr man in Las Vegas who told me this is the first time he's ever been excited to vote. I attended a 2-day training, Camp Obama, where several hundred people buzzed with the new confidence that each and every one of them (us) CAN be a leader and CAN improve our country. One person CAN make a difference- we're ALL leaders inside if we focus our passion and make the effort. This room included trust-fund waspy ivy leaguers and african-american welfare moms.

I'm crying as I type this- I'm looking forward to the future again, aren't you? :-)

URS Returns from its hiatus

So my favorite pop girl crush sensation returns to the scene of the crime - but minus Sarah Silverman's asinine comments. As she returns from hiding, we return to equally cheering her on and wondering if she'll provide more fodder for our cattiness. Either way it's something to wait for, to see live vs. Tivo, and to discuss on our blogs our facebooks our twitters as soon as she walks off the stage at Paramount this Sunday evening.

Still crying over Hillary

In case you missed it, here's the tribute video that aired at the Democratic Convention. I realized how sad I still am she won't be running our country. Barak Obama is magical, but it would have been ideal if he could have led us with her - not instead of her.