Holiday Update: Washington and New York

I guess it's a symbol of how alienated I feel in West Virginia, that I was so happy to be in the Washington area Thanksgiving, and in New York for a week around Christmas. Part of it was being with our families. My nephew is now back with my sister for a short time, and I enjoyed his company. A highlight was playing "Cards Against Humanity" with my sister, my husband, my nephew and two of his cute 23-year-old friends. Hard to imagine my mother doing that, or Joe and I being able to do that as The Rabbi and His Spouse in Morgantown. My sister Robin, and Joe bonded over Scrabble, which I won't play. They are both too cutthroat for me. We also visited Baltimore, where I picked a bunch of historic sites to visit. I loved showing Joe parts of my original hometown.

Joe's siblings all showed up in New York City, and we were able to hang with his father's beautiful widow, Naomi. She treated us all to dinner at a restaurant with fine food, all recognizable and not food-porn stuff, and great service. Joe and I attended services at Congregation Beth Simchat Torah Friday night. We arrived via subway, and worshiped with probably two hundred other LGBT Jews. Joe caught up with friends from high school and college; I saw three of my cousins and a college classmate I still talk about all the time. I loved being around people who aren't thinking that we are less than they are because we are Jews or a same-gender couple. Good to be with people in our age group too.

We had each picked a play we wanted to see in New York. His had already closed, so I bought tickets online to my choice, "Beautiful: The Carole King Musical." I loved the dedication of the cast, the singers and dancers portraying The Shirelles, The Drifters and Little Eva. I understand that, at sixty-five, I am the target audience for this show. 

New York and Washington are both beautiful cities. People here in Morgantown will brag that they have never been to either. We walked around Central Park in unseasonably warm weather Christmas Eve, counting how many foreign languages we heard - lots. I imagine many of the people are tourists, as we were. I just loved being there.

Growing up in Maryland, with four grandparents living in New York, I feel close to both New York and Washington. It feels more "at home" than Morgantown ever will.

It's New Years Eve, about 11 A.M. as I write this. Joe and I are meeting with a friend from Tree of Life for lunch at a restaurant. It's sunny out, but about 22 F. and windy. We don't really care to go out tonight. We'll probably watch one of the screeners I have from SAG-AFTRA for the SAG awards and go to bed early.

For 2015, I hope to be more at peace with where we live. I was reminded this morning of how blessed  I am. In the comic strip Dilbert, he has gone online looking for a date. He said "Tall, with hair and a job" and got thousands of responses from women. When I met Joe, I was, as I am now, short and bald. I worked no more than seven hours per week when we met; I don't work at all now. Still, he stays with me, and we support each other. It's worth living here to be with him.

Joe, playing scrabble with Robin, Greenbelt, MD

In Baltimore, Thanksgiving weekend

With my first cousin Eric Polk in East Northport, NY

Dinner with the Hamples and partners at Pasha Turkish Restaurant in New York

Broadway in the 70s. Joe and his brother are walking away from me

With one of my college housemates, John Hnedak, at The Met

Joe with Steven Levine, his friend from school days, Scarsdale, NY

With my cousin Howie Rotblatt near Times Square

Joe by Central Park Reservoir

The Gym and The Holidays

Back in Baltimore, we lived in a segregated society. In the days of smaller businesses, we had our own doctors, pharmacists, dentists. If Jews exercised, it was at the Jewish Community Center. Most of our classmates at school were Jews. Despite that, there was always a Christmas pageant, Christmas carols, Easter, and in some classes, until Madelyn Murray, we had to say The Lord’s Prayer and read from a Christian Bible. In high school, we had our own Jewish youth groups. Fraternization with Christians was frowned upon.

In college, my friends were most likely to be Christian, at least in name. Those of us not from super wealthy families at the private university I attended tended to hang together. None of us were particularly religious, anyway.

In Los Angeles, most of the “white” people were Jewish. Everyone lived in their own ethnic ghetto, with Jews being the most powerful group in the city. We had two synagogues for gays and lesbians, among over a hundred synagogues in Los Angeles County. It was a good place to  immerse oneself in Jewish culture and redefine it in a personal way. Public schools closed for Yom Kippur.

In West Virginia, the Jewish community is small, and probably shrinking. There is a bubble of liberal Judaism in the South Park neighborhood of Morgantown, but throughout the state, Jews are invisible by choice. In Morgantown, the local paper does feature articles about Chanuka and Rosh Hashana. This year West Virginia University’s homecoming parade and football game coincided with Yom Kippur. Morgantown High’s homecoming parade was on a Wednesday night, Rosh Hashana. A congregant told me that students and teachers were advised that they would not get an excused absence the next day for Rosh Hashana.

This brings me to the gym. I joined in the summer of 2012, right after we moved here. The gym is through WVU, designed for people over sixty and people with a heart condition. I was a perfect candidate. There are four people working in the office. Graduate and undergraduate students are out on the floor, chatting with the oldsters and taking our pulse and blood pressure periodically.

I think the regular workers were surprised that I was the husband of the new rabbi in town. The University has a non-discrimination policy for LGBT people in place, so there was no kickback. One of the men who works there, who rarely comes out of the office, has almost never spoken to me. The woman in charge, and the two other men who work there were friendly enough. They are all religious Christians, probably Evangelicals. I haven’t discussed their specific religious beliefs in great detail.. One of the men does discuss his faith with others at the gym, and when he is in charge, the radio music in the weight room mysteriously changes from classic rock to a Christian station. I wasn’t always comfortable with the talk of football and hunting among the students and workers, but I understood that this was a gym.

What changed was the court decision in the Fourth Circuit that led to the legality of same-gender marriage in West Virginia. I felt that the two men in the office who were moderately friendly avoided me after that decision.

The students are exercise physiology majors. Two of the grad students admitted to me that they hadn’t read a book all the way through since eighth grade. None of the ones I spoke to, either in 2012 or 2014 voted in the election. None of them read a newspaper. I told  some of them about the marriage decision, and most were supportive. Only one actually lit up with a big smile and said “Congratulations!” The kids do know about both professional and WVU sports teams.

One of the old guys who works out regularly is a right-wing loudmouth. He comes in and pontificates loudly about his hatred of President Obama, and once called Hillary Clinton “a twit.” No one ever disagrees with him. I did once, and we got into a heated argument. Someone pulled us apart. We are too old to actually get into a fight; we are both heart patients. I felt like I was blamed for the altercation.

We have free speech and freedom of religion in this country. What people don’t get is that there are consequences. I don’t need to be in a place where I’m uncomfortable. Yesterday,I told the woman who runs the gym, who was rarely there when I was the last few weeks, that I wasn’t coming back in 2015. She was surprised when I gave her my reasons. She didn’t think I would mind hearing Christian radio, or that I would be snubbed, or find someone’s ongoing right-wing rants offensive.

I went in yesterday, the first day of Chanuka, and gave the staff members who were there and the two grad students (the undergrads are gone, finished for the semester) bags of chocolate coins from Israel. They just looked at me. The Christmas tree is up in the office, and one of the men asked me to attend the Christmas party Friday. Maybe I’m picking a fight where there doesn’t need to be one, but, no, I don’t want to be at your Christmas party.

Maybe the problem is just West Virginia. Christianity, particularly the anti-gay type, is the State religion. Maybe I should stay and continue to educate people. I’d rather keep looking for a more comfortable gym. We may move to South Park next year, close to the synagogue, and the one liberal neighborhood in the 250 mile stretch between Pittsburgh and Charleston.

Bedford County, Virginia

Joe and I were supposed to do this trip in November. Unfortunately, the days we picked were the days we got hit with weather below 20 F. with wind gusts up to 40 mph. So we didn't go. In a way, I was relieved. I'm always worried about how we will be treated as a couple. Bedford County is adjacent to Lynchburg, the home of Liberty University, founded by the late unlamented Jerry Falwell. There is even a Jerry Falwell Expressway. Maybe I worry that people will be mean nore than I should. In November, I took a Saturday to spend a few hours in Belmont County, Ohio, close enough to go and come back, instead of going to Bedford County.

We were in Washington with my family for Thanksgiving and we will be with Joe's family in New York City later in December. It seemed foolish to plan another trip, even three days. Sill, it looked like the weather would be reasonable December seventh, eighth and ninth, so I went solo. I booked a cheap motel on the edge of the Town of Bedford.

I drove over the mountains, through Grafton, Philippi and Elkins, West Virginia , and Highland and Warm Springs, Virginia. I lunched early at a sub shop in Elkins; there isn't much on the road after that. US 250 climbs over one set of mountains, winding around each peak. The sun shone, and at the higher elevations the trees glistened with the light on the icy branches, like Christmas tinsel, beautiful. Once you get over the mountains, you hit two-lane US 220 through the Shenandoah Valley, past The Homestead, where I stayed in August in Hot Springs. From the valley, there is another set of mountains. I crossed these on VA 43, another two-lane, winding road. I thought it would be flat then, but next up were The Blue Ridge Mountains, right on the edge of Bedford. Part of VA 43 follows Blue Ridge Parkway.

From west to east, there are four parts of Bedford County. First is The Blue Ridge. There are three peaks in the area, The Peaks of Otter, including the highest point on Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia. At other times of the year, it's a great place to hike or picnic. It was cold and windy when I arrived; the picnic areas were closed for the season.

A few miles down the road, across rolling hills and farms dotted with pre-Civil War mansions, is the Town of Bedford. It's small, pretty, with a historic downtown. There are beautiful old homes north and east of downtown, but the main commercial area is east of town along US 460.

Moving east past Wal-Mart, there are farms, forests and villages. I drove through this area without paying much attention.

The eastern end of Bedford County is suburban Lynchburg. I saw many new developments, including large apartment complexes, lots of strip shopping centers, some with a better class of stores (Kroger instead of Food Lion) and a surprising number of Mexican restaurants.

I looked up Macy's to see if there was a more upscale area. There is one in River Ridge Mall, technically in the City of Lynchburg, so not Bedford County, but I went there for lunch. It's located on a hillside also occupied by Liberty University. A community college is across the street.

I went looking for Lynchburg's Reform synagogue, also on the west side of town. After lunch, I resumed looking for historic sites in Bedford County.

 In the suburban neighborhoods outside Lynchburg, I found Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's retreat home from his retirement years, a two-day ride on horseback from Monticello, his family home near Charlottesville. The house is semi-restored. There is a tour. I got there at 3:30 on a cold, damp afternoon. I was the only one on the tour with Deborah, the guide. She was certainly knowledgeable about the house and its history. I don't always enjoy house tours, and I was nervous, because when Joe and I toured Jefferson's Monticello on December 26, 2012, I passed out mid-tour. I was tired for this tour, but thankfully held up better. The house, its history and the restoration are fascinating.

I crashed at my motel for an hour. I hadn't seen a restaurant where I would want to have dinner. The first night, I ate at a storefront Chinese restaurant near WalMart. Despite rain and near-freezing temperatures, I drove to the Kroger in Forest, the upscale suburb of Lynchburg, back near Poplar Forest. Tanner, the nice young man at the deli counter, dished out a dinner of chicken parmigiana, tortellini in a balsamic sauce and a "superfood" salad ( kale and other unidentifiable greens, quinoa and I'm not sure what else). I ate in the store.

It was 252 miles to my hotel from home over the mountains. I went back on main roads and interstates. It was 286 miles. I stopped more on the way back, but the time traveling was the same. There was snow in the mountains along I-64 on the border of Virginia and West Virginia.  The roads were clear and there was no rain or snow. I passed near Roanoke, through Fincastle and Covington, Virginia, stopping for lunch on US-19 in West Virginia before heading home on I-79.

I didn't interact much with people on this trip.  The people at the motel, the clerks and tour guide were all friendly enough. I was only put off by the long line of people at a restaurant in the mall with a lately deceased homophobic owner. I also noticed how many grossly overweight people I encountered. Not blaming anyone for that.

This was an exhausting trip. I don't like to think this, but maybe 800 miles alone in three days is too much for me. Still, I like to get away and explore a new place. My favorite places were Jefferson's Poplar Forest at the east end of the county, and Blue Ridge Parkway and The Peaks of Otter in the west.

Sharp Peak, one of the Peaks of Otter, along Blue Ridge Parkway

Bedford County Courthouse

Avenel, a pre-Civil War House, Bedford

Burks-Guy -Hagen House, Bedford

Elks National Retirement Home, Bedford

House in Bedford

Otter Mill, being restored

"Three Otters," north of Bedford

Bowling Eldridge house, north of Lynchburg in Bedford County

Poplar Forest, west of Lynchburg. Photo by Deborah, the tour guide

Downtown Bedford Historic District

Belmont County, Ohio

This trip was a joke on me. Joe agreed to go with me to my next county, alphabetically: Bedford, Virginia. We were supposed to go Monday to Wednesday, November 17 to 19. Then I looked at the weather report. Tuesday, the day we would be touring, had a forecast high in Bedford of 24 F., with 21 mile per hour winds. And Monday and Wednesday we would be traveling over the mountains in West Virginia, where it would likely be snowing. So we didn't go. Monday night we stayed in Morgantown,  saw the movie St. Vincent and then ate dinner at a Chinese buffet in University Town Center.

This weekend, the forecast was a high of 49 Saturday, with even warmer weather Sunday, but

rain all day. So, I thought I would go to then next county, Belmont County, Ohio, originally scheduled for December, on Saturday November 22. I didn't want to fall behind.

I took the back route across West Virginia 2 to New Martinsville. For some reason, although it was 32 when I left the house, the temperature got colder. Then it started to rain. And then there was ice all over the roads. An accident on the bridge across the Ohio River at New Martinsville held me up for a half hour. I was behind a truck salting the road on Ohio 7 heading up the river. I still didn't understand about the ice. I stopped at Dollar General in Powhatan Point to use the bathroom, check directions and buy a big bag of pretzels for a dollar.

I followed a back road, where I saw a car in a ditch. Then my car began to slide. That's when I got it. The car's gauge said it was 32 outside. I drove slowly after that. Southwestern Belmont County is mountainous, like West Virginia. It's dotted with well pads and access roads from fracking, disturbing the landscape. I hadn't gotten to my first historic place in the town of Belmont by 12:45. This man doesn't live on pretzels alone, so I continued on OH 9, instead of turning off to Belmont, to St. Clairsville, where I knew there was a mall off I-70.  I knew I could get a cheap and fast lunch at the mall. I had a slice of pizza, a small salad, and a diet Pepsi. Coming out, I could see that the traffic heading back to St. Clairsville was backed up. I decided to go back to the Ohio River and visit the old town of Bellaire.

I was on I-470 in Ohio, the bypass around Wheeling, West Virginia. Traffic stopped dead for a half hour. I saw trucks stalled on the road for no apparent reason. I thought maybe there was some kind of trucker strike, like last year. A Pittsburgh radio station talked about how traffic was stopped all over the region. Apparently, it was because of ice on the roads.

I finally reached Bellaire, stopping at a Dairy Queen for an ice cream and another bathroom. I tried to get Mapquest on my phone, but typically, I couldn't get internet service on my useless Samsung Galaxy S4 with Sprint service, when it works. I had written the addresses of the five historic places in town. I found two. My research found that once upon a time there were three synagogues in this town. The 1920 census showed 15, 061 people in Bellaire. In 2010, there were 4, 278. This is what the rust belt looks like.

I had planned to be out six hours, three to drive both ways and three to explore. With  all the traffic problems, the only place I really got to look at was Bellaire.

The joke on me was that Sunday was much warmer, and there was no rain. If I were into magical thinking, I would say I was punished for ditching Torah study Saturday morning to go exploring.

Here are some pictures from Bellaire, Ohio, Saturday, November 22, 2014, between 2;30 and 3:45 P.M. The temperature was around 45 F., and there was an on-and-off drizzle under cloudy skies.

Traffic backed up on I-470 in eastern Ohio

Village square in Bellaire. The high school is in the background

B&O Railroad Bridge from across the Ohio River into town

First Christian Church. This is near where there was once a synagogue. Maybe it was in this building?

United Presbyterian Church

Bellaire Public Library

Belmont Street, the main drag through downtown

Zweig Building and abandoned Ohio River Bridge, Bellaire, OH

Israel

Note: I am in a same-gender marriage to Rabbi Joe Hample, spiritual leader of Tree of Life, a Reform synagogue in Morgantown, West Virginia. I am publishing this without showing it to the Rabbi. The opinions here are my own, not his. Nor do they necessarily represent the views of members of Tree of Life.

Rabbi Joe sermonized about Israel on Yom Kippur. He called for a separation of the Jews and Arabs in Palestine with the establishment of an Arab state in the West Bank and Gaza. It was brave of him to say that when the government in Israel seems to be opposed. Still, if Israel is to remain a Jewish state, the Arabs need to have their own government.

Since then, the world has seen the rise of militants in Iraq and Syria, failing governments in Yemen and Libya, and Arab attacks on Jewish civilians in Israel, particularly in Jerusalem. This past Tuesday, November 18, two Arabs attacked a group of Orthodox Jews at morning prayer in Har Hof, a West Jerusalem neighborhood favored by English speakers from the United States and Britain. People were shot, stabbed and hacked with a meat cleaver in the middle of their prayers. Ultimately, a police officer, an ethnic Druze, shot and killed the two attackers. The policeman himself died of injuries.

Israel annexed all of Jerusalem after the Six-Day War in 1967. Many in the Arab community, who were the majority in that area before 1967, are not happy to be in a Jewish state. They have the rights of citizenship, but Israel is clearly set up for the benefit of Jews. The definition of "Jerusalem" has been expanded to include all the land up to Hebron. Jewish-only settlements have been built on land the Arabs want for their own state.

Until the attack this week, I had the impression, from visiting Jerusalem in 1985 and 2007 and from talking to friends and reading about Israel, that religion was not an issue between people. There was a "live and let live" attitude. Tensions were worse between the so-called "Ultra-Orthodox" and "secular" Jews. I use quotes because many in both camps object to those terms. Some pundits think these killers were inspired by ISIS to kill Jews at prayer, and that is possible. Tension may be high because some Jews are demanding the right to pray on the Temple Mount, site of Solomon's temple, but the site of a mosque since the seventh century. After the 1967 conquest of East Jerusalem, the Temple Mount was placed under Moslem jurisdiction and Jews could visit, but not pray. Maybe it shouldn't be a big deal, but I don't see the point of Jews praying there if it affronts Muslim sensibilities. Our prayers, as Jews, have not depended on being at the Temple Mount for almost two thousand years. As a liberal, Diaspora Jew, I say "Let them have it."

Speaking of liberals, the rhetoric from friends on Facebook has been hysterical and not helpful. People are quoting from sources without investigating them. I mean from "TheRightScoop.com or well-known haters like Pamela Geller or Michelle Malkin. People I know buy whatever these horrible people are saying about how "Liberals hate Israel."I won't even repeat what they say about Islam generally. In the past, I've asked well-meaning people not to post from people like Mike Huckabee,  Glenn Beck, or Ben Carson. When I read something, I consider the source before I consider their arguments. If it's Cal Thomas (who appears in the Morgantown Dominion-Post) or someone who I know is racist and homophobic, or if it comes from an unreliable source like Fox News, I ignore it. Yes, CNN, The Washington Post and even the New York Times have been unreliable. My readings on Israel are likely to come from Ha'aretz, a liberal, English-language paper from Israel that provides a variety of opinions directly from Israel. I follow Ha'aretz on Twitter. My few Israeli friends are people who have moved there from the United States. I don't often agree with them.

What I've read about the community where these murders took place is that the people are at prayer. Thousands attended the funeral of the non-Jewish police officer who was killed. They are not asking for revenge. What they have done is mourn the dead, affirm their attachment to Israel, to the Jewish people and to their own families. I join with my fellow Jews in these endeavors.

I feel helpless. The Islamic world is spinning out of control. Israel, like the United States, has become more divided, more ruled by ugliness, money and thuggery than in the past. I ask that we take a step back, listen to the other side, be charitable and pray for peace with respect for everyone in the world.

The Election

My initial dismay at the national and West Virginia election results has become more rational. Nationally, the Republicans wiped the floor with the Democrats. Here in West Virginia, we will have a majority-Republican House of Delegates for the first time in many, many years., and although the state Senate election resulted in a tie, a Democrat was convinced to change his party affiliation to Republican to give the Republicans a majority. I wonder if he was paid to do that, and if so, how much?

I don't know if the Democrats could have gotten around the hatred that has been fomented against President Obama by Karl Rove, Roger Ailes, the Koch Brothers, and locally, coal mine operators like Bob Murray of Murray Energy, who owns mines here in West Virginia. When we arrived here in 2012, the state was awash in "Stop Obama's War On Coal" signs and bumper stickers and even license plates that say "Friend of Coal."

Our junior Democratic Senator, Joe Manchin, came up with a simple law, along with a Republican from Pennsylvania, to close a loophole that allowed anyone to buy a gun at a show without any kind of check. He was subjected to a blowback of hate from the gun lobby. I think he must have been shocked at the ferocity.

With all this as background, it's no wonder that Natalie Tennant, from all reports a good person, the Democratic Senate nominee to replace retiring Jay Rockefeller, ran against Obama and the EPA. In a debate on public radio with Republican nominee Shelly Moore Capito, Tennant stated over and over that she was raised on a farm and owns a gun. For her part, Capito only stated, over and over, that Tennant supported Obama.

In West Virginia, with its palpable dislike of outsiders and racial minorities, it's hard not to think Obama's race had something to do with this. Capito had been in Congress, and no one could point to anything she accomplished in the last few terms. She presented no agenda except stopping Obama and the EPA.

It didn't help that the Supreme Court wouldn't hear the case for maintaining the ban on same-gender marriage in West Virginia. President Obama, at least in his second term, has been a supporter of gay rights, and I'm sure that rankled people here and in other states. West Virginia passed a law against same-gender marriage a few years ago, with only three dissenters: two here in Morgantown and one in Huntington. One of the two in Morgantown, the first African-American mayor, was defeated in this election. In our district, we have gone from three Democrats and two Republicans in the legislature to four Republicans and one Democrat. Voters here could press one button to vote "all Democratic" or "all Republican." People should have had to vote for each office. Republican campaign materials tended not to state which party the candidate belonged to.

I voted for Tennant, maybe because singer-songwriter Carole King came here to support her.  I'm not sure that King, a well-known liberal, a Jew and a New Yorker by birth, was helpful to the campaign. She got me to vote for Tennant, but I'm not a typical West Virginian. I was sorely tempted to vote for The Mountain Party, whose views are closest to mine. Their problem is that they have no chance of winning.

I read Kathleen Parker in our local paper, The Dominion-Post, this morning (November 13). She blames Democrats for alleged lies about The Affordable Care Act. She is upset that people lost their insurance despite promises that they could keep their insurance. That was always conditional on those policies meeting certain standards, which many of them didn't. I don't believe it was the big issue she states it is. I think she knows that and is just looking for something to throw at President Obama. She's delusional if she thinks, as she says, that the Republican victory was about "restoring that trust" in government.

I think the Republicans won by limiting voting among African-Americans, who vote overwhelmingly for Democrats, by nefarious reapportionment schemes, difficult ID laws, and not accepting new registrations, even though they were filed timely. I credit the Supreme Court with allowing "dark money" to pollute elections, and overturning The Voting Rights Act, allowing mostly formerly-Confederate states to impose new restrictions on voting that would adversely affect African-Americans.

There is no denying that Democrats could have done a much better job of presenting themselves. They could have stood up for the ACA and promoted clean air and water, even in West Virginia. In our district, Democrat Glen Gainer ran almost no campaign against Tea Party favorite David McKinley, a climate change denier.

If the Republicans are proud of their victory, I'm fine with it. They got it from Democratic timidity, racism, homophobia, cheating on the rules, and money from only the top 1% of our economy. Maybe a majority of voters are fine with that. I'm not.

High Holidays 5775 (The Remix)

I didn't feel much of the holiday spirit this year. If I were to repent of anything, I would have said I need to say "No" more often. What I want to do is write more; what I'm doing is chanting Torah on Yom Kippur, working on a history project for Tree of Life, serving on a commission for "LGBT Equity" at West Virginia University, and keeping house. Not that all these things aren't worthwhile, or that keeping house wasn't to be expected when I got married.

Being Jewish in Morgantown does not entirely give me what I need. I'm starting to fight back against the "War on Christmas" mentality that dominates this area. I wished all my Christian acquaintances "Shana Tova" in the way they all wish me "Merry Christmas" because "Happy Holidays" doesn't work for them. The more curious asked me what it meant and when were the holidays, the less curious just looked at me. One of the slogans in Morgantown is "Building A Diverse Community." And yet, WVU's homecoming parade was Friday night on Yom Kippur, and the big football game was late afternoon Saturday. Morgantown High had its homecoming parade the evening of Rosh Hashana, and apparently would not excuse absences for the next day. I'm feeling that "Diversity" does not include Jews. Last week was "Diversity Week" at the University, and they did advertise Israeli dancing, but that's as Jewish as it got.

The High Holy Day cantor at Tree of Life flies  in from Mexico every year. This year he called around September 1 to say he was ill and couldn't come. In the scramble to find someone else, Joe and I came up with a mutual friend, Rabbi Yossi Carron, who worked as a cantor at one time, then became a rabbi. He has worked as a chaplain in the prisons, and Joe interned with him one summer. This gave Joe the confidence to pursue a job in the prisons.

The way it worked out with the congregation, Joe and I had to drive him eighty miles to and from the airport in Pittsburgh twice, and put him up at our house. Someone offered to find him somewhere else to stay, but he told this person he wanted to stay with his friends. This was hard for us, because I needed time to work on my Torah chanting, and Rabbi Joe had sermons to write, and three funerals in the days after Rosh Hashana. It was stressful for us to have someone in our two bedroom house.

Services turned out well. The congregants loved Yossi. He kissed and hugged all the older women, flirted with the young men (who didn't seem to mind), schmaltzed up all the singing, which people considered "spiritual." The sticklers didn't like that he forgot or mispronounced much of the Hebrew. The complainer I heard from asked me why I didn’t take over for the holidays. I told him “ I don’t have the strength to do a full holiday schedule. And I would never do holidays with just three weeks to prepare.”  I hope he realized we were blessed that Yossi had the chutzpah to walk in at the last minute and do a full holiday schedule.

 I laughed when Yossi sang "The Way We Were" during the Yizkor Memorial service on Yom Kippur afternoon. But by the end of the song, I felt nostalgic for the past, and sorry for the passage of time strongly enough to tear up. Of course, it was late afternoon, and though I didn't fast, I hadn't had a lot to eat and I was tired. Ultimately, the Yom Kippur magic worked for me, even though I was determined not to feel it. At the end, I knew I would be a better person in 5775.

Yossi  charmed us too. One of my complaints about Morgantown is that we don't have older gay men for friends here. Yossi and Joe sat around at dinner and breakfast challenging each other with the lyrics of obscure Sondheim musicals. It was the only time during the holidays that Joe really relaxed and had fun.

In addition to loving Joe, I admire him as a rabbi. He was always a skilled speaker. At the evening service on Yom Kippur, he spoke about Israel, from the heart. He took what would be considered a leftist view in most synagogues, calling for an Arab state in the West Bank and Gaza, whatever it takes, and despite the obvious risks. People praised his speech to me, but said they feared others would be critical. I'm not sure anyone was. I have rarely been more proud of my Joe.

We've finished the holidays, and today, October 9, is the first day of Sukkot, the harvest holiday where we eat lots and hang out with friends in the autumn air. Despite the stress, we enjoyed having Yossi with us. Joe still has work for Sukkot and Simchat Torah. I try to take this time to enjoy autumn and relax.

65

I'm sixty-five now. I keep having to repeat that. Soon I will believe it. On my actual birthday, I taught a class to people over fifty (mostly over seventy) about the music of the British invasion of the Sixties. This week was 1968. I played music and videos from The Beatles, "Hey Jude" and The Beatles (aka "The White Album"). I played The Rolling Stones singing "Jumpin' Jack Flash" and some excerpts from Beggars Banquet. I lost them with a video of Cream playing "White Room" and excerpts from Wheels of Fire. A woman I'm friendly with raised her hand and asked "Why are we listening to this noise?"

I tried to explain, as I did to family and sometimes friends in 1968, "This isn't 'Yummy, Yummy, Yummy I've Got Love In My Tummy.' It's not aimed at ten-year-old girls like most Top 40 music. You have to listen more intently. It might take time to get used to it." So I guess I haven't learned anything in the last forty-seven years. I got the same blank look I got in 1968. Someone in the class brought cookies because they knew it was my birthday.

I had lunch at Subway with a seventy-five year old man in the class. He grew up in New York, and although not Jewish, he knew lots of Jews then and even now in Morgantown. His wife died some time ago, and he asked me "Are there available women at your temple?" I mentioned two widows in their sixties who might be available. "I know them. I don't want anyone like that. Look at me. I'm in great shape for my age." (He's not.) " Isn't there anyone younger?"

At that point, I silently thanked God for sending me Joe, gray-haired, balding (not as bald as I am) and only seven years younger than I am. Old enough that we have things to talk about, and young enough to be my "young man."

There was a class about Yiddish theater with a movie in the afternoon, then I ran some errands and went home to crash. Tappuz the cat slept with me.

Joe thought we should go someplace fancy for dinner. We did, although I wasn't hungry after all the cookies, and I was tired. There was one other occupied table with an older couple and a young woman. I didn't know them. At least that's what I thought, but the older woman said "Hi, Barry. Happy birthday!" I couldn't place her, but it turns out she is in my class. She couldn't come that day. I should have remembered her.

Some of the food was good. My entrée was just average. Everything was expensive. I couldn't wait to leave. I'm always glad to go out, but I was tired and not feeling that well. I was reminded of my mother insisting we go out someplace fancy for my twenty-first birthday. I was a hippie college student then, a senior, and seriously depressed. Depressed enough that I wouldn't go to a shrink because I was afraid they would hospitalize me. The thought of getting dressed up enough to go to a nice restaurant sent my stomach into spasms. I hadn't eaten much that day, and I was in pain. I barely got through dinner then. An allergist years later explained that my stomach ailments, always around my birthday, were a seasonal allergy. Now you tell me.

I look at now and I have to do the Jewish thing. I have to be grateful for all the gifts in my life. I have a handsome, good, hard-working man at home who loves me. The times have changed enough that I can thank the waiter for not asking if we want separate checks and he'll answer "I'm young, but I'm not that young." I'll introduce my husband to a male-female couple, and they'll say to him "We've heard so much about you from members of your congregation. They just love you." As of two weeks ago, the state accepts our marriage. Most of the people aren't happy about it, but we've already changed people's minds about same-gender marriage, even here.

I have a body that works, with a little pharmaceutical help. I've dodged polio, teenage drivers, Vietnam and AIDS. I survived a heart attack, and done many dangerous things I hope no one finds out about. I'm still here. Sounds like a Sondheim song :" I've lived through George and George W., Nixon-Agnew. " I should leave lyric writing to Mr. Sondheim.

I understand mortality. I'm four years younger than my father when he died, and ten years younger than my mother. I get it. Still, I look in the mirror and say "Not bad." I remember and study the past, live in the present, and still have plans for the future. Joe is throwing me a dinner and dance party this weekend.

Bedford County, Pennsylvania

Between the Jewish holidays, a spate of funerals, my weekly British Invasion class, and the five other classes I'm taking at OLLI, we have both been stressed out. Last Sunday, Joe had a full day of Sunday school, Hebrew classes and teen programming at temple. The weather looked good, and I decided to take the day off and visit my October county, Bedford, Pennsylvania. It's just one hundred miles from home, so I figured I could go and come back. Statistically it had 49,762 people in 2010, is part of metropolitan Altoona, is overwhelmingly Caucasian and votes Republican. I couldn't find a synagogue or decent shopping mall. Both of those exist in Altoona, less than forty miles away. The county seat, Bedford is small and dates back to colonial times. Nearby is Bedford Springs Resort, a sprawling hotel with mineral springs, similar to  the Homestead, in Hot Springs, Virginia, where I spent a night in August. Both are just barely on the east side of the Appalachians, so geographically in the same region.

I ran into the Fall Foliage Festival, a two-weekend event in the center of Bedford. Lots of booths selling wood-carved Santas and black cats for Hallowe'en, homemade jewelry and signs saying things like "Steelers Fans Only" or "Retired, Gone Fishin'." Most of the town is a historic district, so I took a few pics. The leaves were beautiful as advertised, it was sunny and the temperature rose from 55 - 60. I ate a sloppy chicken on pita sandwich, and because Tappuz, our cat, was a rescue, and because the local Humane Society was sponsoring it, I had to have a big bowl of fresh homemade apple cobbler, topped with locally-made vanilla ice cream.

I found two other historic districts in smaller towns in the county, pretty, but a bit rundown. There's an ancient mill on the Juniata River, with a trail through the area.  There are maybe sixteen covered bridges in the county.The weather clouded up after a while, and started to cool down. Winter is not far away.

I drove back over the mountains, and I was home by six.

Bedford Springs Resort

Pitt St., downtown Bedford

historic cemetery, Bedford

Fall Foliage Festival, Bedford

Juniata Mill, Snake Spring Township

Jackson's Mill Covered Bridge, East Providence Township (under repair)

Schellsburg Historic District

Summer Lake, Shawnee State Park, near Schellsburg

Russell House, Bedford

Re: Marriage

In my last post, I mentioned that the Supreme Court, by refusing to hear appeals by states to overturn lower court rulings in favor of marriage equality, opened the door to our marriage being recognized in West Virginia. The circuit court gave West Virginia's anti-gay attorney general, Patrick Morrisey, two weeks to come up with a reason to stop same-gender marriage. Last week, Morrisey folded and same-gender marriage is now allowed in West Virginia. The papers have had pictures of couples, often two women with children, signing up for marriage in some of West Virginia's more rural counties. A pastor in a rural town not far from Morgantown railed impotently against the new rules. He swore he would not marry a same-gender couple in his church. As if anyone would ask.

I wrote a letter to the editor of The Dominion-Post, which they published Wednesday, October 14. Next to it was a letter from someone in a town of 380 in the eastern panhandle, complaining that the courts had overstepped, because the states have the right to define marriage, according to his reading of the Constitution. That issue was settled with the demise of laws against interracial marriages fifty-some years ago.

Here's my letter:

It didn't seem like it would be a big deal. We married in California in 2008 just before Prop 8 passed there, ending the spate of marriages that  had lasted a few months. Our marriage remained legal in California, and when asked, I always said "I'm married," even when we moved to West Virginia in 2012. We've made lots of friends here, but I still  felt hostility, particularly when I asked Senator Manchin and Congressman McKinley to support same-gender marriage and they wouldn't. Just this week, Senate candidate Capito said she believes "marriage is between a man and a woman." Attorney General Morrisey has never even pretended to be a friend to gay people. Still, when DOMA was defeated, I was able to put my spouse on my health insurance, saving us $6500 per year.

Despite my jadedness, both Joe and I have been walking around smiling since marriage equality came to West Virginia. We feel more "at home" here.

What has moved me are the pictures and stories of people in rural counties as well as the cities signing up to marry. They usually say "We're just like everybody else." But they're not, and we're not. We've all been through a lot.  We've had to come out to ourselves, risk losing our families, our friends and our religion to be who we really are. Those of us who are married and marrying have found love and are running with it, and the court has recognized our right as free people in the United States of America to marry the person we choose.

Many people in West Virginia oppose same-gender marriage, they say, because they are conservatives. To me, marrying my boyfriend six years ago was the most conservative thing I could have done.

It's been a great week in West Virginia. Thanks to Governor Earl Ray Tomblin, the Morgantown City Council and WVU President E. Gordon Gee for supporting us.

1966

I'm teaching a class at Osher Life-Long Learning about the British Invasion, the music that hit America in 1964 with the arrival of The Beatles. My students are all over fifty, and most are over seventy. The class is six weeks, and I've been covering one year per week from 1964 to 1969. On October 7, I covered 1966. I play records and CDs, but mostly show videos from You Tube.

The people in the class loved the early Beatles, all the other boy groups in long hair and skinny suits, the glamour girls like Petula Clark and Dusty Springfield, and even the Rolling Stones, Mick Jagger too pretty by half, his pants tight enough to allow your imagination to wander.

Things changed in 1966. I started the class by telling them that the Beatles best music was on albums, and with the release of Rubber Soul at the end of 1965, the Beatles challenged their audience by not releasing any singles and not touring.

I played some songs from Rubber Soul in beautiful "Duophonic" stereo. Only the vocals, all in one channel, didn't come out clearly. This wasn't the first time I've had equipment problems at OLLI. I sang the six songs I played, from "Norwegian Wood" to "Wait."

I had the CD of Revolver, and the sound was fine for that. I played "Eleanor Rigby" and "Here, There and Everywhere." Pretty music. Then George Harrison sang "Love You To" in a classic Indian style with Indian instruments. I made the group sing along to  "Yellow Submarine." When it came to the end of the album and "Tomorrow Never Knows," with the guitar tracks played backwards, lots of unusual instruments and altered vocals, I was just grooving.

I noticed my crew wasn't with me. So I asked them "How many of you thought that was the best thing you've heard in this class so far?" No hands. "How many of you had no idea what that was about or just hated it?" Most of them raised their hands. I guess I was disappointed. I told people who couldn't come last week that they could listen to Rubber Soul and Revolver and watch a live performance of "Paint It, Black" on YouTube and they would get all they needed of 1966. Everything else was boring. Only my group liked the boring stuff. We saw videos from Herman's Hermits, Dusty Springfield, Petula Clark, and, yes, The Monkees. They loved it.

I remember 1966. I was a junior and senior in high school. Baltimore, my hometown, was still living in the fifties, for  a short time longer. Among my friends, some were horrified by The Beatles' turn to "arty" music, and the darkness of The Rolling Stones. I was on the line. I liked music I could dance to, so I was more likely to listen to Motown and other "soul" music than Brit rock. But I could see that change was coming, and maybe it's just my memory today, but I think I was ready for something different in life.

For many people who were already married in 1966, working their way through community college or back from 'Nam, the changes in music and the larger culture were frightening and unwelcome.

This was the beginning of the "culture wars," started by Roger Ailes for the Nixon-Agnew campaign in 1968, and continued by Ailes and his successor, Karl Rove. Blame "elites," college students in the late '60s, get the government to try to deport John Lennon, decry the obscenity of the Rolling Stones, all to get working class white people to turn against their own economic interests. Rove brilliantly brought up "gay marriage" after 1990 to rile religious people, particularly those in rural areas and dying towns where no self-respecting gay person would live. That emphasis has now come back to bite him with the Supreme Court's decision not to take a same-gender marriage case this term, leaving most states obligated to recognize same-gender marriages, including West Virginia, which has a few weeks to continue this futile battle.

I don't blame the folks in my class for not following me into the new music of the late '60s. Julie Andrews, Herman's Hermits on one side and The Beatles and Rolling Stones on the other were not looking to start a culture war. And taste in music has a lot to do with when one came of age. I was sixteen in 1965 and 1966, just coming into my own, and this music was my soundtrack. I find lots of today's music unlistenable, but that won't start a war between me and the young generation. And I don't take it personally that my class won't follow me through The Who and Cream, that they won't like "Sympathy For The Devil" or "Sunshine of Your Love." All I can do is put it out there and hope someone gets it.

Beaver County, Pennsylvania

This week, as part of my goal of visiting all the counties within three hundred miles of Morgantown, I visited Beaver County. It's one of the larger counties in this area, located just northwest of Pittsburgh, bordering Ohio and West Virginia's northern panhandle. Because it's less than one hundred mles from Morgantown, I decided to go and come back the same day.

My goals are usually to find at least ten places on The National Register of Historic Places, a mall, a synagogue, and a park. I usually find the county courthouse.

It took just about two hours to get to the county. I had planned to do all the historic places, north to south, but I messed up my figuring and started near the center. Most of the urban parts of the county run along the Ohio River. There are towns on the steep hillsides and factories, many abandoned, along the riverfront. I had a sense of a beautiful place that once boomed with industry and good-paying industrial jobs. According to the census, the county population declined about ten percent between  1990 and 2000.

I visited Bridgewater, Beaver (the county seat), Beaver Falls, Alquippa (the largest city), and Ambridge. Beaver was the prettiest town, with a street of semi-interesting shops, a historic district along the Ohio River, and a wooded park with an old-fashioned bandshell. Alquippa was the most depressing. It's main street was virtually vacant and the residential areas were in sad disrepair. Geneva College, a self-described "Christian liberal arts college" anchors the north end of Beaver Falls. Bridgewater has a historic district along the Beaver River. Ambridge hosts the county's only synagogue, "traditional" according to its website, which means not affiliated with the major movements in Judaism, and Old Economy Village, part of which is in a state historic park.

I had lunch in Beaver at BeauCo Bistro in downtown Beaver. It's decorated in 1970 modern. I had the special chicken salad sandwich with cranberries and walnuts on some kind of white bread. It's not what I usually eat. I try to avoid mayonnaise. It was inexpensive and filling, I'll give it that.

I didn't interact with too many people. I stopped into a K-Mart, looking unsuccessfully for a local map. A handsome young man offered me a free Pittsburgh newspaper. He admitted it was the more conservative paper. I took it, but haven't read it. The librarians in Beaver found me a map, and several atlas books covering the county. The people at the courthouse gave me a map that covered much of the area. If I were to describe the people based on these few interactions, I would say they were friendly and helpful.

When I go farther away, I stay overnight, and try to catch a nap between four and five. This habit goes back to childhood, so it's not an old-age thing. Not that I'm sensitive about my age. I got home about 8, as it was getting dark, having left Ambridge about 6:15. I was exhausted. Joe and I had a late dinner. I fell asleep as soon as I went to bed. As usual, I wonder why I go through all this, but
 the main reason is that I enjoy travel, don't mind being alone (although it is more fun with Joe, who has a job and can't always go). I guess it's just my idea of fun.

Here are some pics of Beaver County:

Beth Samuel Congregation, Ambridge

Old Economy Village Historic Park, Ambridge

B.F. Jones Memorial Library,  Alquippa

Interior, B. F. Jones Library

Ambridge Historic District, part of Old Economy

Geneva College, Beaver Falls

Carnegie Library, Beaver Falls

Fort McIntosh Site, Ohio River, Beaver

Dunlap Mansion, Bridgewater

Bridgewater Historic District

Beaver County Courthouse, Beaver

Ohio River at Beaver

House in Beaver Historic District

Quay House, Beaver