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Eighty-two and the Hidden 'Bet'

5/30/2017

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​Today is my 82nd birthday.

​To think I’m that old is astonishing.


Or -- as Sean Spicer said
​in yesterday’s press briefing 
about the relationship between Trump & 
Angela Merkel: 


It’s fairly unbelievable.

No. It’s totally unbelievable.


Happily, I’m not in this alone.

Dame Judi Dench is 82. 
As is Sophia Loren. 
Dench sports white hair. Me, too. 
Loren, big glasses. Me, too.

It’s a comfort to see that even famous, glamorous women
can eventually choose to say
Who gives a shit

(or, in Sophia’s case, Chi dà una merda)
and let Ma Nature take her course.

By the by, Julie Andrews is also eighty-two.
Knowing this is one of my favorite things . . .

Now.
Being the Rabbi’s Daughter, I had to see if Jewish text  
had something to say about reaching the age of eighty-two.

And, since it’s all about numbers, gematria was my go-to source.
     
     Gematria: a mystical system of assigning numerical values to the 22 letters of the
     Hebrew alphabet, especially when used by Kabbalists to interpret Hebrew scriptures,
     the calendar year, a person’s age and the like.




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So get this.


The letter pey is the 17th letter of the Hebrew alphabet. 


It’s numeric value is eighty.





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Bet is the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet.

It’s numeric value is two.

Together, pey and bet make eighty-two.

​So far, so good.




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Digging deeper.

Pey means mouth in Hebrew.
According to the mystic Kabbalists, 
pey - by extension - also means word,
expression and speech.


If you look closely at the pey, you’ll see a hidden letter bet
which, in Hebrew, means house.
In Judaism we value the concept of Shalom Bayit. 
​
Peace in the home.
A peace that comes from treating those who live under our roof 
with respect and loving-kindness in both word and deed.

The sages teach us that the way we speak inside our homes 
is generally the way we speak outside the home.
Our private conversations -- our choice of words, our tone -- 
are often reflected in public. 
And conversely, the way we speak in public will often carry over and affect --
for good or ill -- the peace in our home.

Our Shalom Bayit.

Okay, then.

On my eighty-second birthday I’m reminded that if I speak like a harpy in my house,
​if I berate husband, family, guests or workpeople,

I'll speak like a harpy in the public square.
But if I speak kindness at home, I’ll speak kindness out in the world.
Garbage in, garbage out.

Or, as my Bubbie used to say, 
What a child hears at home he repeats in the marketplace.

Finally.
Poking around on Google, looking for people who were leading active, 
interesting lives at my age, 
I stumbled on a tightrope-walker named William Ivy Baldwin who,
on his 82nd birthday in 1948, 

strung a special wire over a canyon in Eldorado Springs, CO, 
kept his eyes straight ahead
and crossed the chasm without looking back.


That’s probably the secret. 
Don’t look back.

Except, perhaps, at lessons my Bubbie taught me.

            
                                                                            copyright 2017 Ozzie Nogg



 


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D.J. Trump and The Seventh Week

5/24/2017

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Take special care to guard your tongue before your morning prayer. 
A person who wakes up in the morning is like a new creation.
Begin your day with unkind or trivial words, and the day is tainted. 
All of your words each day are related to one another.
All of them are rooted in the first words that you speak that day.

              Israel Baal Shem Tov (written long before the advent of tweets . . .)

*
A bit of backstory:

For the past six weeks (since the second Seder of Passover) Jews everywhere have been marking off the forty-nine days until Shavuot - the festival that celebrates the giving and receiving of the Torah. This custom is called Counting the Omer, and today - 
May 24, 2017 — is the first day of the seventh and final week.


This counting began as an agricultural (some might say superstitious) ritual. Our ancestors would pray for an abundant spring harvest by waving a measure of barley - an omer - toward the night sky. Eventually, this agricultural rite was replaced by special blessings, and the counting became the way to mark the Israelites’ journey from bondage in Egypt to revelation at Mount Sinai.

People keen on Kabbalah consider the Counting of the Omer a time of self-reflection and spiritual renewal - a 49-day mindfulness practice that helps us pay attention to the uncertainty in our lives. The small changes, the dramatic transitions, our reactions to life’s shifting circumstances and new realities.

According to the mystical tradition, each of the seven weeks holds a specific
spiritual quality.
 

Week One: Loving-kindness 
Week Two: Discernment
Week Three: Beauty, Balance and Truth
Week Four: Victory and Vision
Week Five: Gratitude
Week Six: Foundation and Connection
Week Seven: Sovereignty and Supreme authority


So, now we arrive at D. J. Trump and the Seven Weeks.
The week of sovereignty and supreme authority.


Today, I suggest that on each day of the coming week, D. J. Trump consider the following questions and exercises, paraphrased from Journey through the Wilderness: A Mindful Approach to the Ancient Jewish Practice of Counting the Omer by Rabbi Yael Levy;
and A Spiritual Guide to the Counting of the Omer by Simon Jacobson.


May 24. Day One of Week 7: 
Healthy authority is always kind and loving. An effective leader needs to be considerate. Does my sovereignty make me more loving? Do I exercise my leadership in a caring manner? Do I impose my authority on others?

Exercise for the day: Do something kind for your subordinates.


May 25. Day Two of Week 7: 
Do I recognize when I am not an authority? Do I exercise authority in unwarranted situations? Am I aware of my limitations as well as my strengths? Do I respect the authority of others? Dignity also needs discipline. A dignified person needs to have a degree of reserve.

Exercise for the day: Before taking an authoritative position on any given issue, pause and reflect if you have the right and the ability to exercise authority in this situation.


May 26. Day Three of Week 7: 
A good leader is compassionate. Is my compassion compromised because of my authority? Do I manage a smooth-running operation? Do I give clear instructions to
my subordinates? Do I have difficulty delegating power? Does my organization work
as a team?

Exercise for the day: Review an area where you wield authority and see if you can increase its effectiveness by curtailing excesses.


May 27. Day Four of Week 7:
Determination and will reflect the power and majesty of the human spirit. How strong
is my conviction to fight for a dignified cause? How confident am I in myself?
Do I mask my insecurities by finding excuses?

Exercise for the day: Act on something that you believe in but have until now been tentative about.


May 28. Day Five of Week 7:
Does my authority humble me? Am I an arrogant leader? Do I appreciate my blessings?

Exercise for the day: Acknowledge God for creating you with personal dignity.


May 29. Day Six of Week 7:
Self-confidence allows you to respect and trust another's authority and ultimately join with him. Does my authority prevent me from uniting with others? Could that be because of deeper insecurities and a lack of self-confidence that I am unaware of? 

Exercise for the day: Actualize your authority by intensifying your bond with a close one.


May 30: Day Seven of Week 7: 
Does my position of leadership come from deep-rooted inner confidence in myself?
Or is it just a put-on to mask my insecurities? Does that cause my authority to be excessive? 

Exercise for the day: Take a moment and concentrate on yourself, on your true inner self, not on your performance and how you project to others.


Finally.
During this seventh week of the Omer period - before we receive Torah and its mandate to create a just society - we are instructed to ask ourselves: 
        Where is our world now, compared to where we want it to be?         
        Where is there suffering, violence, and corruption? 

        Where do we see the absence of our most deeply-held values, an erosion of our most fundamental sense of what is right?


How would you answer those questions, D. J. Trump?

Our sages tell us that when the Hebrews were in bondage, they assimilated the immoral ways of the ancient Egyptian people. But then, the Children of Israel were miraculously redeemed and - during their forty-nine day trip to Sinai - underwent a spiritual transformation and became a holy nation.

Oh, boy.
Can miraculous transformations still happen?
Can a seventy-year old man still be zapped with an ah-HA, revelation?


Somewhere, deep inside, D. J. Trump must must must have better angels.

I’m counting on it.  
                                                                   

​                                                                                  copyright  2017 Ozzie Nogg








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Mother's Day and Sunbonnet Sue

5/14/2017

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appliqué 

noun ap·pli·qué \ˌa-plə-ˈkā\
a needlework technique in which a small piece of fabric is sewn
​or otherwise fixed to a larger piece of material
to create designs, patterns or pictures
.


                                                *

Sunbonnet Sue: A Brief Bio.
​

Quilt blocks of Sunbonnet Sue began showing up in the 1800s, but their popularity began to grow after the publication of the Sunbonnet Babies Primers in the early 20th century. Bertha Corbelt and Eulalie Osgood Grover teamed up to teach children how to read by using illustrated stories about Sunbonnet Sue and her friends, Fisherman Fred and Suspender Sam. Teachers, parents and children fell in love with Sunbonnet Sue
due to her sweet temperament, wholesome vignettes of everyday life and that adorable ever-present bonnet. Sue's simple faceless features enticed hand quilters, and soon after the release of the Sunbonnet Babies Primers, magazines began publishing patterns for needleworkers. Most of the Sunbonnet Sue quilts found today were made between 1900 and 1940. She never seemed to grow old. More than a century after her conception, Sunbonnet Sue is still just as cute as ever - one design that almost everyone recognizes, even nonquilters.

                             
                                 
stolen from various Google sources 


                                                 *

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In September 1934, when my mother found out she was pregnant, she began stitching a Sunbonnet Sue quilt. By the time I was born the following May, Momma had finished seventeen blocks.

I first laid eyes on the quilt blocks when I was thirteen, one afternoon when Momma and I were rummaging in her cedar chest, looking at clothes from her trousseau — chiffon nightgowns, pongee bed jackets, silk slips. This peek into my mother’s past was a secret ritual, for just the two of us. But on this day, from under the tissue-paper wrapped lingerie, Momma lifted a white pillow case, gently pulled out the contents and there they were. Seventeen Sunbonnet Sues, appliquéd onto beige muslin squares.

When he got sick, I didn’t have time to sew these together, Momma said. They’re here whenever you want them. I have no recollection of what either of us said next, which might suggest that my mother and I weren’t close. But the opposite is true. We adored one another. Even after I married, had children of my own, created an independent life for myself — even then, my relationship with Momma often seemed the most precious in my life.

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My mother died, unexpectedly, when I was thirty-six. Her death left me crazed with anger, hollow with loneliness, completely unmoored. I took her crockery mixing bowls home to my kitchen and wept. I transplanted her lilies of the valley to our yard, and wept. The movers carried her cedar chest down to our basement, and I wept. At the grocery store, in the shower, on the treadmill, my mother’s absence would blindside me with tears. There seemed to be no end of weeping.

When I finally lifted the seventeen quilt blocks out of the cedar chest, each little Sunbonnet Sue in her print dress and pastel hat - embroidered with French knots or daisy stitch - looked just as I remembered her. But the muslin squares were dotted with mold.
I carefully pulled out my mother’s stitches, separated each small appliqué from her larger backing, laid the little girls in a row on the floor and stared at them - my mother’s creation - not 
knowing what the hell to do next.


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So far, I’ve sewn each Sunbonnet Sue to a new,
dark blue cotton square.
Not much, but progress of a sort.
Perhaps that’s the way it is with
mothers and daughters.
With parents and children.
​
There’s always unfinished business.



                                         copyright 2017 Ozzie Nogg 




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Ode to Vivianna Childer

5/9/2017

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Vivianna Childer is a 
scrappy ninety-two year old
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
let the Jordan roll
Her belly full of black-eyed peas
bicuspids full of solid gold
        
hey jubilation do shine

She has a dog named Benjamin
They share a bone they share a bed
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
and a motherless child
Sir Benjamin wears knickers
vest and tie that Vivvie pirated
        
hey all God’s chillun got shoes.


On Friday afternoon they sneak
into the Roxy picture show
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
one more river to cross
The Duke and Bogie shooting
Ben and Vivvie in the second row
        
hey sit down sister sit down


Get back to their apartment
men are nailing boards across the door
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
and a steal away home
This building is condemned
You and your mutt can’t live here anymore
        
hey walls come tumbling down


Vivianna hides some meat and biscuits
underneath her dress
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
and the gospel feast
Takes Benjamin and joins the children
wandering through the wilderness
        
hey nonnie Promised Land


Vivianna makes the rounds
with Bennie in a baby pram
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
oh the trouble I seen
You can’t fool me that kid’s a dog
he’ll mess the rug now beat it slam
        
hey nonnie nonnie swing low


Benjamin and Vivianna
sleeping in the laundromat
        
hey nonnie nonnie
        
and a-rock-a my soul
Saint Peter and a band of angels
sweeping off the welcome mat
        
hey hallelujah sweet Lord


                                                                               copyright 2017 Ozzie Nogg
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