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.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
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:
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 |
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Gender
Last week, Joe and I attended a presentation at WVU by Dr. Colt Meier about transgender issues and how to make transgender people welcome at West Virginia University. I felt we should go because I am on the LGBT Equity Commission for the University, and because we are always trying to meet gay people in town, in the (so-far unsuccessful) attempt to create a gay social network for ourselves.
Dr. Meier is young, blond and pretty with stylish stubble. He spoke rapidly and covered lots of ground. Ultimately, he told us that he himself is transgendered, lucky to have had understanding parents who worked as professionals in education and psychiatry. I would add that he was lucky to be so young. In our day, he might not have survived.
Although Dr. Colt was upbeat throughout, he managed to sneak in some terrifying statistics. I don't remember the exact numbers, but a majority of trans kids are kicked out of their homes or beaten by their parents. Homelessness and unemployment are rampant, and even those with jobs are often discriminated against or harassed by coworkers and supervisors. College students have issues about sports, dormitory arrangements and prejudice from teachers and fellow students. Dating can be problematic.
We learned a new word: "cisgender." It describes people who feel that they really belong to the gender they were born into. That would describe me and Joe. We are both hairy-bodied, balding older men. We don't manscape or hide our gender characteristics. And yet...
At the break, we asked someone to take our picture with Dr Meier. I asked him "What if you look really male, but you don't do really male things?" I told him I have no interest in sports, don't drink beer or hunt, can't fix a car, like to dress flashy and secretly wish I had a collection of Barbie dolls. I didn't have to mention that I'm married to another man. Dr. Meier suggested I was "gender non-conforming." Well. I'm glad we have a name for that. Another phrase he used was "gender dysphoric." That means you are unhappy with the gender you have. That one doesn't work for me. Yes, it would be nice to have beautiful long hair like my sister, but I'm generally happy to have a man's body.
I found Dr. Meier charming and kind of hot. Of course, I was curious about how much he has changed from his original female body, but I learned from him that the answer to that question is "None of your business." Until it is. But in my case, it isn't my business and won't be.
A crowd came to hear this talk. Most of them were required to show up as part of a course. They left after the formal presentation. A faculty member signed their little cards to prove their attendance. The people who stayed for the question-and-answer were more interesting. A woman said her lover was trans, and she wondered how to tell people. A young man with curly blond hair said he understood the concept of "passing" as he was not "white" although people who met him thought he was. There were a lot of uncomfortable looking young men and women there, some trying to "pass" as the gender they were born into. It's hard to imagine how difficult that must be. I remember myself in college, trying hard not to look "gay," but already aware that I was. In those days we had to hide. Hopefully, things everywhere, even at West Virginia University, are getting better.
Dr. Meier is young, blond and pretty with stylish stubble. He spoke rapidly and covered lots of ground. Ultimately, he told us that he himself is transgendered, lucky to have had understanding parents who worked as professionals in education and psychiatry. I would add that he was lucky to be so young. In our day, he might not have survived.
Although Dr. Colt was upbeat throughout, he managed to sneak in some terrifying statistics. I don't remember the exact numbers, but a majority of trans kids are kicked out of their homes or beaten by their parents. Homelessness and unemployment are rampant, and even those with jobs are often discriminated against or harassed by coworkers and supervisors. College students have issues about sports, dormitory arrangements and prejudice from teachers and fellow students. Dating can be problematic.
We learned a new word: "cisgender." It describes people who feel that they really belong to the gender they were born into. That would describe me and Joe. We are both hairy-bodied, balding older men. We don't manscape or hide our gender characteristics. And yet...
At the break, we asked someone to take our picture with Dr Meier. I asked him "What if you look really male, but you don't do really male things?" I told him I have no interest in sports, don't drink beer or hunt, can't fix a car, like to dress flashy and secretly wish I had a collection of Barbie dolls. I didn't have to mention that I'm married to another man. Dr. Meier suggested I was "gender non-conforming." Well. I'm glad we have a name for that. Another phrase he used was "gender dysphoric." That means you are unhappy with the gender you have. That one doesn't work for me. Yes, it would be nice to have beautiful long hair like my sister, but I'm generally happy to have a man's body.
I found Dr. Meier charming and kind of hot. Of course, I was curious about how much he has changed from his original female body, but I learned from him that the answer to that question is "None of your business." Until it is. But in my case, it isn't my business and won't be.
A crowd came to hear this talk. Most of them were required to show up as part of a course. They left after the formal presentation. A faculty member signed their little cards to prove their attendance. The people who stayed for the question-and-answer were more interesting. A woman said her lover was trans, and she wondered how to tell people. A young man with curly blond hair said he understood the concept of "passing" as he was not "white" although people who met him thought he was. There were a lot of uncomfortable looking young men and women there, some trying to "pass" as the gender they were born into. It's hard to imagine how difficult that must be. I remember myself in college, trying hard not to look "gay," but already aware that I was. In those days we had to hide. Hopefully, things everywhere, even at West Virginia University, are getting better.
 |
| Joe and I with Dr. Colt Meier |
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Sherry Netherland
Her vanity license plate read "NYHotel." When I met her, nearly thirty years ago, she told me that she changed her name to further her comic career. She also didn't have much to do with her parents, who lived on Long island. I was with her sometimes when she introduced herself to new people. She would smile and say "Hi. I'm Sherry Netherland." Often the people would shake her hand and say "Nice to meet you." Then she'd look at me and say "They don't get it." And we would laugh.
From other people's comments, I guess we met at Israeli dancing at Beth Chayim Chadashim, a synagogue for gay men and lesbians, probably in late 1984 or early 1985. We hit it off right away. She was pretty, funny, loud and brassy. I like those qualities in a woman. If we had not both been gay, it might have been a match.
I left my day job in the fall of '86 and embarked on an acting career. I was too petrified to do stand-up, as Sherry did. I saw one of her shows. It was too early in our liberation for her to be an open lesbian. This was fifteen years before Ellen came out, and longer before Wanda Sykes. She had to be too safe to talk about her real life.
We rehearsed a scene together from a Christopher Durang play and presented it to a casting director through the Screen Actors Guild. I thought we were both brilliant. That wasn't enough to get us hired.
Sherry once gave me a great idea. She sent out pictures and resumés with a little plastic kazoo. She knew agents and casting people throw away lots of envelopes without looking at them, but she thought they would be curious if there was an extra something rattling around in the envelope.
When Beth Chayim Chadashim split in 1992, Shery went with the new congregation, Kol Ami. There was a lot of ill will at that time, but Sherry and I remained friends, event though I stayed at the original temple. Still, there were years when we didn't see much of each other. We got back together on Facebook. Joe and I went to see a show she directed before we moved away from Los Angeles in January, 2010.
From a distance, I read about her new house, all the plays she was acting in, directing or writing, her golf game. Then I got this message from her on Facebook on May 2:
"On April 9th I was diagnosed with lung cancer. (no I am not a smoker) I am not making this Facebook public but I wanted you to know because you are at services every week and I know you would include me in The mishebeyrach prayer. It couldn't hurt. I have no treatment plan yet. Lots of tests yet to go." [Mi Shebeyrach is a prayer for healing]
Sherry sent periodic updates to a group of friends and told us she would have an operation. She included a long list of contacts, things to do, where she would be after her operation, to whom to send get-well cards. She was very organized, and, I think, clear about the possibilities. She remained logical, upbeat and unself-pitying throughout.
This is the last email from her to her group, dated August 3:
"Okay peeps, tomorrow at 9am everyone should think, "lung in a pan." If my lung is in a pan next to me, I am essentially cured of cancer.
I believe in positive thinking and with the collective power of the very wonderful minds on this list I should be a-ok.
I am grateful for all the encouragement, support and good wishes I have received from each of you these past few months. It has made this journey easier. I will spend a long time trying to find the right words to express these feelings. Your love has kept me positive and that has been so important and of value without price.
There will be an email tomorrow from Lloyd (which will appear to be from me) with an update on how the surgery went.
love,
Miss Sherry"
After this, her friend Lloyd sent updates from the hospital. The original news was not good, but it seemed there would be some further treatment out of the hospital. That didn't happen, and Sherry died Saturday morning, August 16. She was 59.
I call it "The Rules." The Rules are that people become ill and die, some too soon, some too late. The Rules are what will inevitably happen to you. It's The Rules that come with the gift of life. It doesn't make it easy.
I cried for Sherry Saturday morning, my friend of so many years. My religion tells me I should thank God. There was a time when I could not have done this, and it is still a struggle. I have to remember that Sherry was blessed with beauty and brains, prodigious talent, a wide circle of friends. She made an excellent life for herself. I'm not the only one who will miss her.
From other people's comments, I guess we met at Israeli dancing at Beth Chayim Chadashim, a synagogue for gay men and lesbians, probably in late 1984 or early 1985. We hit it off right away. She was pretty, funny, loud and brassy. I like those qualities in a woman. If we had not both been gay, it might have been a match.
I left my day job in the fall of '86 and embarked on an acting career. I was too petrified to do stand-up, as Sherry did. I saw one of her shows. It was too early in our liberation for her to be an open lesbian. This was fifteen years before Ellen came out, and longer before Wanda Sykes. She had to be too safe to talk about her real life.
We rehearsed a scene together from a Christopher Durang play and presented it to a casting director through the Screen Actors Guild. I thought we were both brilliant. That wasn't enough to get us hired.
Sherry once gave me a great idea. She sent out pictures and resumés with a little plastic kazoo. She knew agents and casting people throw away lots of envelopes without looking at them, but she thought they would be curious if there was an extra something rattling around in the envelope.
When Beth Chayim Chadashim split in 1992, Shery went with the new congregation, Kol Ami. There was a lot of ill will at that time, but Sherry and I remained friends, event though I stayed at the original temple. Still, there were years when we didn't see much of each other. We got back together on Facebook. Joe and I went to see a show she directed before we moved away from Los Angeles in January, 2010.
From a distance, I read about her new house, all the plays she was acting in, directing or writing, her golf game. Then I got this message from her on Facebook on May 2:
"On April 9th I was diagnosed with lung cancer. (no I am not a smoker) I am not making this Facebook public but I wanted you to know because you are at services every week and I know you would include me in The mishebeyrach prayer. It couldn't hurt. I have no treatment plan yet. Lots of tests yet to go." [Mi Shebeyrach is a prayer for healing]
Sherry sent periodic updates to a group of friends and told us she would have an operation. She included a long list of contacts, things to do, where she would be after her operation, to whom to send get-well cards. She was very organized, and, I think, clear about the possibilities. She remained logical, upbeat and unself-pitying throughout.
This is the last email from her to her group, dated August 3:
"Okay peeps, tomorrow at 9am everyone should think, "lung in a pan." If my lung is in a pan next to me, I am essentially cured of cancer.
I believe in positive thinking and with the collective power of the very wonderful minds on this list I should be a-ok.
I am grateful for all the encouragement, support and good wishes I have received from each of you these past few months. It has made this journey easier. I will spend a long time trying to find the right words to express these feelings. Your love has kept me positive and that has been so important and of value without price.
There will be an email tomorrow from Lloyd (which will appear to be from me) with an update on how the surgery went.
love,
Miss Sherry"
After this, her friend Lloyd sent updates from the hospital. The original news was not good, but it seemed there would be some further treatment out of the hospital. That didn't happen, and Sherry died Saturday morning, August 16. She was 59.
I call it "The Rules." The Rules are that people become ill and die, some too soon, some too late. The Rules are what will inevitably happen to you. It's The Rules that come with the gift of life. It doesn't make it easy.
I cried for Sherry Saturday morning, my friend of so many years. My religion tells me I should thank God. There was a time when I could not have done this, and it is still a struggle. I have to remember that Sherry was blessed with beauty and brains, prodigious talent, a wide circle of friends. She made an excellent life for herself. I'm not the only one who will miss her.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Bath County, Virginia
In West Virginia, the good roads go to Charleston. Interstate 77 from Cleveland and Parkersburg, I-79 from Erie, Pennsylvania and Morgantown, and I-64 from Louisville and Huntington, crossing the mountains into Virginia, are the main roads. Interstate 68 heads east from Morgantown to Cumberland, Maryland, connecting eventually to Baltimore and Washington.
Heading to the eastern side of West Virginia, or over the mountains to Virginia between 68 and 64 is harder. The roads are two-lane and often run through small towns. To get to Warm Springs, the county seat of Bath County, the logical route, on the map anyway, is US 250, which winds around the mountains and through National Forests to Virginia. How people traveled to Richmond from Morgantown before the Civil War is a mystery to me. Maybe hardly anyone lived in Morgantown then, so it didn't come up often. Still, three hundred miles over the mountains must have been quite a haul.
Most of Bath County is in George Washington National Forest. Warm Springs has one street with the county courthouse, the library, the police station, the tourist center, and a handful of houses. Everything else is rural. Hot Springs, the resort town five miles south, has a short main street. There are bars and restaurants on one block. The IGA Market is between the two towns and closes at 8.
The original attraction in Bath County is the warm springs from which the county seat takes its name. The Homestead Resort, a sprawling hotel with hundreds of acres of grounds, is at the center of Hot Springs. The hotel has restaurants, shopping, golf, tennis, skiing in winter, an elaborate water park and movies in the evening. It is run by Omni Resorts.
It's less than two hundred miles to Warm Springs from Morgantown, which in my system means it's a one-night stay, especially in an underpopulated rural area. The Homestead is the only chain hotel. There are other motels and some bed-and-breakfasts. In the county tourist brochure, the motels all said "call for information," and none of the bed-and-breakfasts were listed with PurpleRoofs.com, which lists gay-friendly B&Bs. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but this is the rural South. Bath County voted 60-40 for Romney in 2012, not the worst in Virginia, but enough to worry me about how I might be treated, both as a semi-obvious gay man, and as someone who doesn't look quite white enough.
So I booked a night at The Homestead, $247 plus a $52 resort fee, and taxes. Total: $308 for one night, lots more than I usually spend. I had hoped Joe would go with me, but with holidays coming up and Sunday school starting, he couldn't do it. My fault for marrying a younger man with a job.
The hotel is beautiful, and in a lovely spot. It's traditional without being overbearing about it. I enjoyed wearing my few outfits of casual designer clothes and walking around the grounds. The early August weather was pleasant, cooler and less muggy than Morgantown. The tips of the leaves were beginning to change color already. Breakfast was bountiful, even if I didn't indulge. I enjoyed the locally-made yogurt and cream cheese, the fresh berries, a decent bagel and green tea. I skipped the eggs, pork products, grits, oatmeal, waffles and french toast.
The resort stuff is wasted on me. I don't play tennis or golf, didn't go to the pool. I did pay $17 to "take the waters" in Warm Springs. The building was supposed to be designed by Thomas Jefferson. It was almost falling down, but the idea of bathing in a spring appealed to me. I only used half of my allotted hour, afraid my blood pressure would drop far enough to make me pass out. I was relaxed and only mildly dizzy when I left.
Most of my time in Bath County, I tooled around searching for places on The National Register of Historic Places. There were seventeen, including the hotel, and an archaeological site where the location is not public. I found a few old houses, some at the end of private lanes or behind gates, and thus inaccessible. The Warwick Mansion in Hidden Valley, part of George Washington National Forest, was the best and most visible of the historic places. If one wanted to explore Bath County on a budget, spaces to camp in the National Forest are ten dollars. I would have to be someone else to do that.
I enjoyed Bath County. I wish I had the money and the ability to relax to spend a week at The Homestead, but for me, an overnight stay was affordable and enough time there. The resort advertises that has been there since 1766. The building is twentieth century, but it's not hard to imagine that the African-American men who are waiters in the breakfast room at one time were slaves. There were a few African-American families at the hotel, one South Asian-looking family, and a guy walking the grounds in an IDF (Israel Defense Forces) T-shirt. Were I a better historian, I would find out when the resort abandoned a "White Christians only" policy.
Those days are, thankfully, over. Still, it's a little like I imagine Germany was twenty years ago, where the villainous government is gone, but some of the participants are still around.
It was fun being in a beautiful place, both the countryside and the resort, and a lovely drive. For me, it's a good change of pace from my usual love of cities.
I'll put up pics later today.
And here they are:
Heading to the eastern side of West Virginia, or over the mountains to Virginia between 68 and 64 is harder. The roads are two-lane and often run through small towns. To get to Warm Springs, the county seat of Bath County, the logical route, on the map anyway, is US 250, which winds around the mountains and through National Forests to Virginia. How people traveled to Richmond from Morgantown before the Civil War is a mystery to me. Maybe hardly anyone lived in Morgantown then, so it didn't come up often. Still, three hundred miles over the mountains must have been quite a haul.
Most of Bath County is in George Washington National Forest. Warm Springs has one street with the county courthouse, the library, the police station, the tourist center, and a handful of houses. Everything else is rural. Hot Springs, the resort town five miles south, has a short main street. There are bars and restaurants on one block. The IGA Market is between the two towns and closes at 8.
The original attraction in Bath County is the warm springs from which the county seat takes its name. The Homestead Resort, a sprawling hotel with hundreds of acres of grounds, is at the center of Hot Springs. The hotel has restaurants, shopping, golf, tennis, skiing in winter, an elaborate water park and movies in the evening. It is run by Omni Resorts.
It's less than two hundred miles to Warm Springs from Morgantown, which in my system means it's a one-night stay, especially in an underpopulated rural area. The Homestead is the only chain hotel. There are other motels and some bed-and-breakfasts. In the county tourist brochure, the motels all said "call for information," and none of the bed-and-breakfasts were listed with PurpleRoofs.com, which lists gay-friendly B&Bs. Maybe I'm overly sensitive, but this is the rural South. Bath County voted 60-40 for Romney in 2012, not the worst in Virginia, but enough to worry me about how I might be treated, both as a semi-obvious gay man, and as someone who doesn't look quite white enough.
So I booked a night at The Homestead, $247 plus a $52 resort fee, and taxes. Total: $308 for one night, lots more than I usually spend. I had hoped Joe would go with me, but with holidays coming up and Sunday school starting, he couldn't do it. My fault for marrying a younger man with a job.
The hotel is beautiful, and in a lovely spot. It's traditional without being overbearing about it. I enjoyed wearing my few outfits of casual designer clothes and walking around the grounds. The early August weather was pleasant, cooler and less muggy than Morgantown. The tips of the leaves were beginning to change color already. Breakfast was bountiful, even if I didn't indulge. I enjoyed the locally-made yogurt and cream cheese, the fresh berries, a decent bagel and green tea. I skipped the eggs, pork products, grits, oatmeal, waffles and french toast.
The resort stuff is wasted on me. I don't play tennis or golf, didn't go to the pool. I did pay $17 to "take the waters" in Warm Springs. The building was supposed to be designed by Thomas Jefferson. It was almost falling down, but the idea of bathing in a spring appealed to me. I only used half of my allotted hour, afraid my blood pressure would drop far enough to make me pass out. I was relaxed and only mildly dizzy when I left.
Most of my time in Bath County, I tooled around searching for places on The National Register of Historic Places. There were seventeen, including the hotel, and an archaeological site where the location is not public. I found a few old houses, some at the end of private lanes or behind gates, and thus inaccessible. The Warwick Mansion in Hidden Valley, part of George Washington National Forest, was the best and most visible of the historic places. If one wanted to explore Bath County on a budget, spaces to camp in the National Forest are ten dollars. I would have to be someone else to do that.
I enjoyed Bath County. I wish I had the money and the ability to relax to spend a week at The Homestead, but for me, an overnight stay was affordable and enough time there. The resort advertises that has been there since 1766. The building is twentieth century, but it's not hard to imagine that the African-American men who are waiters in the breakfast room at one time were slaves. There were a few African-American families at the hotel, one South Asian-looking family, and a guy walking the grounds in an IDF (Israel Defense Forces) T-shirt. Were I a better historian, I would find out when the resort abandoned a "White Christians only" policy.
Those days are, thankfully, over. Still, it's a little like I imagine Germany was twenty years ago, where the villainous government is gone, but some of the participants are still around.
It was fun being in a beautiful place, both the countryside and the resort, and a lovely drive. For me, it's a good change of pace from my usual love of cities.
I'll put up pics later today.
And here they are:
 |
| Warwick Mansion, Hidden Valley, George Washington National Forest |
 |
| Hidden Valley, George Washington National Forest |
 |
| Mustoe House, near Carloover |
 |
| Homestead Resort, Hot Springs |
 |
| Bath County Courthouse, Warm Springs |
Saturday, August 2, 2014
My Sermon August 1, 2014 at Tree of Life Morgantown
My parents were natives of The Bronx, in New York City. My father arrived in Baltimore at eighteen in 1940, and served four years in the US Army before returning. My mother came to Baltimore at the time of their marriage in 1947. My parents’ families go back to Poland and Russia, where they had different names than the ones used now. I lived in Baltimore until I was almost twenty-three, except for one summer at the beach in New York, and another in Europe after college. Since then I’ve lived in New Orleans, back in Baltimore, briefly in Atlanta, then six years in Miami and twenty-five in eight different apartments in Los Angeles.
I lived with Rabbi Joe at my last address in the Los Angeles area. We moved together to Crescent City, California at the beginning of 2010, and to Morgantown just over two years ago.
Our parsha this week is Devarim, the beginning of Deuteronomy and the book’s name in Hebrew. Moses speaks words (Devarim) to the Israelites as they are about to enter the Promised Land. He already knows he is not going with them. Most of the generation that left Egypt has died. He is telling the young folk the story of the lives of their people. I’ve just given you a hint of the story of my people. Moses’ emphasis is on the role of God in what has happened, the good and the bad.
Do I think God had a hand in the events of my life? Yes. I see God in how things have worked out for me. Can we, as Jews, trust that God is with us? I trust it, even if I can’t explain why my life has been this good.
Rabbi Joe conducted two unveilings last weekend for people in the Jewish community, Harold Klein and Hilda Rosenbaum. They both lived a long time. They had loving families, and a close group of friends. One might say they were blessed. Yet this stand is dedicated in memory of Hilda’s daughter, who died at age seven. Can you call someone “blessed” who lost a young child? At the cemetery where Harold Klein is buried , I noted a gravestone with a marble angel next to it, for a child who died at less than a year old. Another tombstone was for a 26-year old who died in Vietnam. Were these families blessed?
When is a life a good one? When does one get to say their life has been blessed?
I can only say for myself that I have avoided most of the awful things that happen in many lives.
You may have heard that there is a war raging between Israel and Hamas. The news Wednesday is that Israel bombed a U.N. School, killing sixteen. Israel says it didn’t mean to hit the school. After the last war, Hamas demanded concrete, banned by Israel because it could be used to make explosives, in order to rebuild. Israel relented, and instead of building housing, Hamas built tunnels to attack Israel. This is not a way to create trust.
Ali A. Rizvi, who describes himself as a “Pakistani-Canadian writer, physician and musician” wrote an article for Huffington Post Monday Called “7 Things To Consider Before Choosing Sides In The Middle East Conflict.” One of his questions is “Why does everyone keep saying this is not a religious conflict?” He quotes Deuteronomy 1:8 from this week’s parshah. The Reform translation says “ See, I place the land at your disposal. Go, take possession of the land that The Eternal swore to your fathers Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to assign to them and to their heirs after them.” In Deuteronomy 2, verse 34, describing the battle against King Sihon of Heshbon, Moses says “… we captured all the towns, and we doomed every town-men,women and children-leaving no survivor.”
Rizvi also includes verses from the Quran that are critical of Christianity and Judaism, to show that there is a religious element to the Hamas side of this conflict.
I have long found Deuteronomy problematic. We talk a good game about Judaism being a religion of peace, just as Moslems say Islam is a religion of peace. Yet , in their pure and ancient forms, they are not. I believe the current conflict is about the direct threat to Israel from Hamas rockets and tunnels, but the lack of effort by the Netanyahu government to make peace on the West Bank, to stop the spread of settlements, comes from the more religious elements in Israel, an important bloc. Clearly they have no intention of giving up land to an Arab state, and I believe they look to this weeks’ parshah for justification. Of course, they don’t have a Moses who hears God’s voice directly. They’re making it up.
What can we do? As American Jews, we have a stake in the future of Israel. As moderns, horrified by the last century’s experience with Holocaust, expulsions and ethnic cleansing, we have to make our voices heard. We must work here to help create a just and lasting peace between Israel and its neighbors, to leave American politics out of this conflict, and do what is right for everyone.
We are left with the unOrthodox task of picking what we want from the Torah. We do not believe in annihilation of our enemies, as described in Deuteronomy, but, as Moses did, we can tell the stories of our people to the next generation, and make a decision to understand the past and resolve to work for peace for the future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)