We found out sometime last year that there is a group based in Morgantown called "G2H2," or "Gay Guys Happy Hour." They meet monthly at a different restaurant/bar in town. Up to that time, we had not met many gay folks in town, certainly not other couples in our age group. People would say to me "There is a gay student organization." Yes, but they are all twenty and still worried about what their parents or roommates will say. So G2H2 looked to be our group. Only they meet from 6-8 on Friday evenings, and we have to be at services before 7:30. I went once without Joe and met some people, and we attended together once last summer when Shabbat was late. Still, we had to leave before seven.
The December meeting was on the Thursday night before Christmas, because the restaurant was booked for several large parties Friday. Perfect for us. We had drinks (non-alcoholic in my case) and stayed for dinner. We chatted up a couple in their early sixties (older than Joe, younger than I) named Dave and Joe Bart. We had met them at one of the earlier mixers.
This month, the party was again on Thursday night, and although I was tired, not feeling great, and having an important medical test the next day, I went with my Joe. We were in a trendy new bar, with not much really edible food, and fairly high prices. We spent most of the evening with Joe Bart and Dave, and another man named Doug, who now runs G2H2 with Joe Bart. We all adjourned to Mother India down the street, where there is a plentiful buffet of recognizable food. Joe Bart and Dave invited us to their farm in Pennsylvania, just over the border, for dinner Saturday.
So we went. I took Robitussin and whatever else I could find to mask my deteriorating health. We have found lots of people in this area, including gay people, who live way off main roads, in virtually inaccessible places. I always imagine gays congregating in a "gay ghetto" in the center of a city. That doesn't work here. Joe Bart and Dave live six miles east of the first exit on I-79 in Pennsylvania, just north of the West Virginia line. The directions didn't include street names, just "turn left at the church" and "look for the red barn." We passed fracking wells and coal mines on the way. It was seventeen miles from our place in Morgantown.
The house is beautiful and modern, set far off the road. They have a barn and goats. Doug from G2H2 was there, along with his mother, a Presbyterian minister, and Bill, a Jesuit priest. They had all been to see the opera at a movie theater in Morgantown, streamed from The Met in New York.We'll pause here for the "a priest, a minister and a rabbi walk into..." joke.
Anyway, we were totally comfortable with everyone there. We had food and drink and bonded with two dogs and one of the two house cats. They asked us if we had met many people socially in Morgantown, and we almost cried. "This is the first time we've been invited socially to the home of a gay couple in this part of the world." True. We've dined with many of Joe's congregants, and they have been just lovely to both of us, more than we would have imagined before we came, but we really have no gay friends.
I should say "had," because we now have Joe Bart and Dave. Our house is tiny and a disorganized mess, thanks to my lack of Executive something-or-other and Joe's life in a more ethereal world. Still, we will get more organized, clean up and cook dinner for our friends, as soon as my now full-blown cold is over. The test from the doctor Friday resulted in good news, a great relief.
Hopefully, this is a sign that we will be more comfortable with our lives in Morgantown over the next few years.
Monday, January 19, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
The 2015 S.A.G. Awards
I joined AFTRA ( American Federation of Television and Radio Artists) early in my acting career. All you had to do to get in was pay them three hundred dollars. Supposedly, being in a union meant you could get an agent and work. A friend of a classmate came to a showcase from my acting class. She was an assistant casting director for "General Hospital. " She thought I did well in my scene, and suddenly I was on television. One line. April 25, 1987. That day of work and six hundred dollars got me into the Screen Actors Guild, S.A.G. I worked a few times under S.A.G. I doubled for Wallace Shawn on a now-forgotten movie, I was in the gallery at a trial on "Matlock," and a balloon vendor on the first episode of the failed series "Flash Forward." Not a distinguished career, exactly.There hasn't been much chance of work for me since we left Los Angeles five years ago. Still I keep paying dues. There's supposed to be a death benefit from the Union ( now merged into A.F.T.R.A. - S.A.G.), and they send me DVDs of nominated movies for the annual S.A.G. Awards. They also send me a code to watch episodes of nominated television shows and some movies online. In 2011, I was on the nominating committee, and I got to vote among fifty-five or so movies for which actors deserved a nomination.
This year, I received four screeners. I didn't look for performances online. I received "Birdman, " which I had already seen in Silver Spring, Maryland over Thanksgiving, "Boyhood," "The Imitation Game," and "The Theory of Everything." These movies were all nominated in the category "Outstanding Performance By A Cast in A Motion Picture," along with "Grand Budapest Hotel," which I saw last April in Staunton, Virginia. There is no other category in which I saw every nominee, and I probably won't spend much more time on this before votes are tallied next week. Maybe I'll only vote in that category.
I enjoyed all of these movies, and recommend them to anyone who asks. "The Imitation Game" and "The Theory of Everything" contain bravura performances from Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Redmayne respectively, and they are both nominated for "Best Performance By A Male Actor in a Motion Picture" but I feel that everyone else in these movies is just supporting them. In "Birdman" there is more of an ensemble, but still mostly Michael Keaton and Edward Norton, nominated respectively for Best Performance By A Male Actor in a Leading Role and Supporting Role. So I plan to vote for "Grand Budapest Hotel" for "Outstanding Performance By A Cast In A Motion Picture." I'm guessing it won't win because it was a quirky movie and came out early in 2014. The huge cast includes Ralph Fiennes, F. Murray Abraham, Adrian Brody, Saoirse Ronan, Tilda Swinton, and Léa Seydoux, among dozens of others. It was one of the most satisfying movies I've seen in the last few years.
The year I was on the nominating committee, two of the biggest movies were "Bridesmaids" and "The Help." They were both notable because they were about women, with the men in supporting roles. This year, almost all of the movies are male-centered. Even in the Best Female Actor in a Leading Role category, in the two I saw anyway, the movies were more about a man than the nominated woman. I mean Rosamund Pike in "Gone Girl" and Felicity Jones in "The Theory of Everything." Their performances were great, but the movies were more about their men.
It's will be five years next week since we left Hollywood. I don't regret leaving the celebrity-chasers behind, but still, movie awards season is much more important to me than the NFL or college football playoffs.
This year, I received four screeners. I didn't look for performances online. I received "Birdman, " which I had already seen in Silver Spring, Maryland over Thanksgiving, "Boyhood," "The Imitation Game," and "The Theory of Everything." These movies were all nominated in the category "Outstanding Performance By A Cast in A Motion Picture," along with "Grand Budapest Hotel," which I saw last April in Staunton, Virginia. There is no other category in which I saw every nominee, and I probably won't spend much more time on this before votes are tallied next week. Maybe I'll only vote in that category.
I enjoyed all of these movies, and recommend them to anyone who asks. "The Imitation Game" and "The Theory of Everything" contain bravura performances from Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Redmayne respectively, and they are both nominated for "Best Performance By A Male Actor in a Motion Picture" but I feel that everyone else in these movies is just supporting them. In "Birdman" there is more of an ensemble, but still mostly Michael Keaton and Edward Norton, nominated respectively for Best Performance By A Male Actor in a Leading Role and Supporting Role. So I plan to vote for "Grand Budapest Hotel" for "Outstanding Performance By A Cast In A Motion Picture." I'm guessing it won't win because it was a quirky movie and came out early in 2014. The huge cast includes Ralph Fiennes, F. Murray Abraham, Adrian Brody, Saoirse Ronan, Tilda Swinton, and Léa Seydoux, among dozens of others. It was one of the most satisfying movies I've seen in the last few years.
The year I was on the nominating committee, two of the biggest movies were "Bridesmaids" and "The Help." They were both notable because they were about women, with the men in supporting roles. This year, almost all of the movies are male-centered. Even in the Best Female Actor in a Leading Role category, in the two I saw anyway, the movies were more about a man than the nominated woman. I mean Rosamund Pike in "Gone Girl" and Felicity Jones in "The Theory of Everything." Their performances were great, but the movies were more about their men.
It's will be five years next week since we left Hollywood. I don't regret leaving the celebrity-chasers behind, but still, movie awards season is much more important to me than the NFL or college football playoffs.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
FIRST WEEK
It's been a productive week, this first one in 2015. Joe and I both decided to eat less, with the hope of losing weight. I'm down three pound so far, which makes me happy.
I had two doctor appointments January 5, one a checkup with my regular MD, a pretty Southern young woman, a resident. I've noted in the past that she always wears makeup. I don't know why that surprises me. The second appointment was with the cardiologist, a charming, handsome, Italian-American with a drawl and a sense of humor. Lately, I see a technician and a nurse practitioner before I get to the real doctor. They always ask a bunch of questions, which elicit in me a sense of gratitude for my good life. "Are all your needs being met?" "Do you feel safe in your household?" The nurse was a young woman named Amalita, with an Italian accent. I didn't want to talk to her at first, but then I noticed she was wearing something lacy under her white lab coat. I asked if her mother was Amalia, and she told me she was named for an opera star her mother admired. She was charming and beautiful.
I finally admitted to Dr. Renzelli and Amalita that, yes, I did sometimes have chest pain, not like my heart attack nearly twelve years ago, but more a tightness, coupled with breathing hard. I noticed it riding my bicycle up some of the steeper hills in Morgantown. And sometimes, when I walk to the convenience store in the morning to buy newspapers, I stop walking back up the hill to our house, because I feel out of breath. I don't know that a totally in shape 65-year old can do better than I do.
They've been worried about me. I have a stent in my left anterior descending artery that was designed to last eight to ten years. February 9 will be twelve years since it was installed. So I'm going to do a stress test Friday next week to see if everything is working the way it's supposed to. If not, they have to go back into the artery and unclog it. I don't have any illusions at 65 about life expectancy and things that can go wrong, but if there is a blockage, and they can clear it, I'll be better off.
Tuesday Joe and I went out in snow and cold weather to run a bunch of errands. We bought Bubbie's Pickles at Mountain People's Co-op, sourdough at New Day Bakery, checked my post office box, picked up Joe's dry cleaning at Massullo's, bought groceries at Kroger, stopped at the bank and the gas station, and found me a new gym.
The gym is in the shopping center with Kroger. "Brad" greeted me at the door. He's a big blond hunk, maybe 25, wearing a three-inch long silver cross on a huge chain around his neck. He's a graduate of the program at the gym I just left, and spoke fondly of two of the faculty there, one of whom couldn't say "Hello" to me in the twenty-eight months I worked out there. I signed up for a year, with two months free. I asked about working out a few times with a trainer. Brad mentioned two graduates of The Human Performance Lab, probably my two favorite ex-grad students. I'm sorry they don't have better jobs, with their masters degree in Exercise Physiology. I'm meeting with Ariel, a thin, pretty, talkative native West Virginia woman tomorrow. We were actual friends at HPL.
Joe and I came home from more than two hours in cold weather, and I fell asleep for over an hour. We had been talking about going to a trivia night at a local restaurant that people in the congregation go to. I was exhausted and not feeling well, so I let Joe go alone.
Now we are in the grip of the Polar Vortex. I took the car yesterday to buy papers in the morning, and ran out to the street to pick up the mail in the afternoon. That was it for outdoors. It snowed on and off all day. Today, it's clear and pretty out, but in the three hours since sunrise the temperature has only gone from -1 to +1 F., and the wind chill is steady at -10. It's supposed to go up to 19 later this afternoon. Our intrepid cleaning woman is driving over the mountains from Garrett County, Maryland to be with us this afternoon, so I'll be heading to the mall to get out of her way. I may go to a swing dance class tonight at the University. It will be my first time there.
Both Joe and I are working on our health and our social life this year. We've taken steps in the last week. All that's keeping us from being out more socially and walking outside is the bitter cold weather.
I had two doctor appointments January 5, one a checkup with my regular MD, a pretty Southern young woman, a resident. I've noted in the past that she always wears makeup. I don't know why that surprises me. The second appointment was with the cardiologist, a charming, handsome, Italian-American with a drawl and a sense of humor. Lately, I see a technician and a nurse practitioner before I get to the real doctor. They always ask a bunch of questions, which elicit in me a sense of gratitude for my good life. "Are all your needs being met?" "Do you feel safe in your household?" The nurse was a young woman named Amalita, with an Italian accent. I didn't want to talk to her at first, but then I noticed she was wearing something lacy under her white lab coat. I asked if her mother was Amalia, and she told me she was named for an opera star her mother admired. She was charming and beautiful.
I finally admitted to Dr. Renzelli and Amalita that, yes, I did sometimes have chest pain, not like my heart attack nearly twelve years ago, but more a tightness, coupled with breathing hard. I noticed it riding my bicycle up some of the steeper hills in Morgantown. And sometimes, when I walk to the convenience store in the morning to buy newspapers, I stop walking back up the hill to our house, because I feel out of breath. I don't know that a totally in shape 65-year old can do better than I do.
They've been worried about me. I have a stent in my left anterior descending artery that was designed to last eight to ten years. February 9 will be twelve years since it was installed. So I'm going to do a stress test Friday next week to see if everything is working the way it's supposed to. If not, they have to go back into the artery and unclog it. I don't have any illusions at 65 about life expectancy and things that can go wrong, but if there is a blockage, and they can clear it, I'll be better off.
Tuesday Joe and I went out in snow and cold weather to run a bunch of errands. We bought Bubbie's Pickles at Mountain People's Co-op, sourdough at New Day Bakery, checked my post office box, picked up Joe's dry cleaning at Massullo's, bought groceries at Kroger, stopped at the bank and the gas station, and found me a new gym.
The gym is in the shopping center with Kroger. "Brad" greeted me at the door. He's a big blond hunk, maybe 25, wearing a three-inch long silver cross on a huge chain around his neck. He's a graduate of the program at the gym I just left, and spoke fondly of two of the faculty there, one of whom couldn't say "Hello" to me in the twenty-eight months I worked out there. I signed up for a year, with two months free. I asked about working out a few times with a trainer. Brad mentioned two graduates of The Human Performance Lab, probably my two favorite ex-grad students. I'm sorry they don't have better jobs, with their masters degree in Exercise Physiology. I'm meeting with Ariel, a thin, pretty, talkative native West Virginia woman tomorrow. We were actual friends at HPL.
Joe and I came home from more than two hours in cold weather, and I fell asleep for over an hour. We had been talking about going to a trivia night at a local restaurant that people in the congregation go to. I was exhausted and not feeling well, so I let Joe go alone.
Now we are in the grip of the Polar Vortex. I took the car yesterday to buy papers in the morning, and ran out to the street to pick up the mail in the afternoon. That was it for outdoors. It snowed on and off all day. Today, it's clear and pretty out, but in the three hours since sunrise the temperature has only gone from -1 to +1 F., and the wind chill is steady at -10. It's supposed to go up to 19 later this afternoon. Our intrepid cleaning woman is driving over the mountains from Garrett County, Maryland to be with us this afternoon, so I'll be heading to the mall to get out of her way. I may go to a swing dance class tonight at the University. It will be my first time there.
Both Joe and I are working on our health and our social life this year. We've taken steps in the last week. All that's keeping us from being out more socially and walking outside is the bitter cold weather.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
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'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.
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| Joe, playing scrabble with Robin, Greenbelt, MD |
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| In Baltimore, Thanksgiving weekend |
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| With my first cousin Eric Polk in East Northport, NY |
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| Dinner with the Hamples and partners at Pasha Turkish Restaurant in New York |
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| Broadway in the 70s. Joe and his brother are walking away from me |
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| With one of my college housemates, John Hnedak, at The Met |
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| Joe with Steven Levine, his friend from school days, Scarsdale, NY |
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| With my cousin Howie Rotblatt near Times Square |
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| Joe by Central Park Reservoir |
Thursday, December 18, 2014
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.
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.
Thursday, December 11, 2014
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.
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.
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| Sharp Peak, one of the Peaks of Otter, along Blue Ridge Parkway |
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| Bedford County Courthouse |
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| Avenel, a pre-Civil War House, Bedford |
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| Burks-Guy -Hagen House, Bedford |
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| Elks National Retirement Home, Bedford |
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| House in Bedford |
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| Otter Mill, being restored |
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| "Three Otters," north of Bedford |
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| Bowling Eldridge house, north of Lynchburg in Bedford County |
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| Poplar Forest, west of Lynchburg. Photo by Deborah, the tour guide |
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| Downtown Bedford Historic District |
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Belmont County, Ohio
This weekend, the forecast was a high of 49 Saturday, with even warmer weather Sunday, but
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.
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| Traffic backed up on I-470 in eastern Ohio |
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| Village square in Bellaire. The high school is in the background |
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| B&O Railroad Bridge from across the Ohio River into town |
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| First Christian Church. This is near where there was once a synagogue. Maybe it was in this building? |
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| United Presbyterian Church |
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| Bellaire Public Library |
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Belmont Street, the main drag through downtown
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