A forgotten birthday

 I admit it. I have only in the past few weeks turned the corner and come out of a months long depression. My precious fur baby, Dexter, 

WHAT IS LOVE?

What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me no more...

What is love? Is it emotion? Is it amorphous? Is it something tangible, with a physical presence? Or perhaps it's merely a biochemical/mechanical reaction in the human brain with no sentimental significance at all.

Deep philosophical questions -- but isn't that what blogging is all about, for me anyway...? These are the questions that keep me up at night, that sometimes enthrall me, sometimes torment me... 

*****

At the end of January, just a few months ago, I had to say goodbye my companion, my housemate, my fur baby, my sweet angel... my Dexter. 

We had lived together for almost five years, and Dexter was the first pet I had owned in decades. Having grown up with cats I always thought of myself as a "cat person." Then I married a man who was allergic to cats but had owned dogs when he was younger. (This was not our only difference -- my late husband was a diehard Yankees' fan and I'm a lifelong supporter of the New York Mets.) But I digress... 

We had always talked about getting a dog someday when we both retired (though I'm primarily a cat person, I love dogs too). We even discussed breeds and names... a yellow Lab named Molly, perhaps...? Then I lost my husband to cancer in 2005 -- he was only 56 and I was now a widow at 44. Fast forward fifteen years and I'm living in an apartment in Manhattan, retiring from a long career in finance (a little earlier than I'd planned) and then there was this pandemic going on...

A few months later, after settling into my new life as a retiree -- or should I say as a "free woman" -- I decided it was now time for a housemate, a furry companion. I briefly "toyed" with the idea of getting a miniature dog, an apartment-ready, little fur baby that I could carry with me everywhere. But no, I knew I was a cat person at heart, and besides that, even tiny dogs were too much work.

So Dexter entered my heart and my home. He was a rescue kitty, about three years old when I adopted him, according to the vet's estimate. I'd lived with cats before, as a child, teenager and young adult, when I still lived with my father. Doris, an affectionate Siamese, was "my" cat, and I loved her very much. But venturing out on my own, in my early twenties, I decided to leave Doris with my dad, and since I didn't move far away, I could visit her anytime I wanted. Then I met my future husband (who was, as I said, allergic to cats) and the rest is history, so to speak...

But back to my beloved late companion, my fur baby, my angel... my Dexter. It's only been a few months and I'm still grieving.  I couldn't even compose this blogpost without tears in my eyes as I typed...

What is love? It is many things. It is people, it is community, it is life. But for me, one of those things that it will always be is Dexter.

 

The impermanence of things....like baseball rosters

It has been a tough few weeks for Mets' fans. First, outfielder Brandon Nimmo was traded to the Texas Rangers. Brandon had been a Met since his Major League debut in 2016, and was cherished by teammates and fans alike for his enthusiasm and clubhouse leadership. Next we lost Edwin Diaz, a Met since 2019, who signed as a free agent with the World Series Champion Los Angeles Dodgers for $69 million over a three-year contract. Edgar, a three-time All-Star, was the Mets' esteemed closer, and fans always cheered along with his iconic entrance song, BlasterJaxx & Timmy Trumpet's "Narco," as he jogged in from the bullpen to save a game.

But the crushing blow came only days later when first baseman and Mets' all-time home run leader Pete Alonso (aka "Polar Bear") signed a five-year, $155 million deal with the Baltimore Orioles. Pete was a home-grown hero, having signed with the Mets in the 2016 MLB draft, and played his entire career with our team, whom he represented five times as an All-Star.

When this news broke, Mets' fans were in turmoil. Many of us anticipated this disastrous development since we knew that Pete was a free agent and had only delayed the inevitable by signing a one-year contract with the Mets the prior year. I followed much of the moaning and groaning on social media, as some so-called fans vowed to abandon the Mets, furious with team management for not making an attractive counter-offer to try to keep Pete in Queens.

For me, this was a hard pill to swallow, though I'd been through similar misfortunes many times before. A life-long Mets' fan, I was used to disappointments, the Mets' 2025 season being a prime example. (We had the best record in baseball mid-season, only to falter in the second half, missing the playoffs by one game.) The present pain recalled my disappointment a year earlier, when the Mets failed to resign fan-favorite infielder and Latin music star, Jose Iglesias. Jose's brief but memorable Mets' career was highlighted by his chart-topping single, "OMG," which became the theme song for the Mets' miraculous playoff run in 2024.

I've written prior blogposts about baseball, particularly musing on the phenomenon of being a devoted fan to a team whose roster changes every year, as favorite players are either traded or become free agents and sign with other teams. I've lived through shifts in ownership and management, at times displeased with the direction the team is taking. But I remain a Mets' fan through thick and thin, feast and famine. I don't know if anything will shake my fervor and loyalty. 

But shifting tides and sometimes unwelcome change are facts of life's many facets. "Nothing lasts forever, but the earth and sky," as the song goes. As I age, the impermanence of things becomes ever more apparent. I have often been averse to change, though I am on occasion happily surprised when an unexpected turn of events results in an upgrade. I dislike the platitude "change is good," simply because that is not always the case. Way beyond baseball, our country and world are constantly repositioning and evolving, and one has to learn to either adapt or rebel. Though I'm not religious in the conventional sense of the word, I sometimes need to remind myself of the wisdom of Reinhold Niebuhr's Serenity Prayer. Permanence is illusive, as I crave something solid and steady to hold on to. Like a revolving door, people move in and out of my life -- loved ones pass on, friends move away. I've been retired for five years, and my career in finance is now in the past. However, I still refer to my former employer of thirty-seven years as "we" instead of "they," more often than not. So what remains steadfast and true? My principles, my honor, and my conviction that human beings are capable of great things, as well as of evil, and that we must take care of each other and of our planet, for there is no Planet B. 

The treasures of devotion

 A few days ago, I visited one of our New York City treasures here in Manhattan on "Museum Mile." I had learned that an exhibit at The Frick Collection, entitled "To the Holy Sepulcher: Treasures from the Terra Sancta Museum," was closing the first week of January, so I hurried and bought a ticket. I had not visited this museum in many years, and it had recently reopened after a years-long renovation. I remember visiting as a high school student many decades ago, when I had the good fortune to study art history, igniting a life-long love of art. (One high school summer I worked as an intern at the great Metropolitan Museum of Art, but that story will have to wait for another blogpost.)

"To the Holy Sepulcher: Treasures from the Terra Sancta Museum" was a stunning collection of more than forty religious objects on loan from the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. 

Among the items were jewel-encrusted gold and silver altar pieces, reliquaries, and sacred vestments from the 17th and 18th centuries, gifted to the Church by wealthy patrons, monarchs and emperors from across Europe. To say that these pieces were fabulous would not do them justice -- I was in awe. But aside from the beauty, artistry, scale and immense intrinsic value that these objects possessed, I was captivated by their magnificence, and imaged myself as an ordinary worshiper in one of these very Catholic countries several centuries ago. Like my own ancestors (who were probably peasants or laborers) the common folk of Europe must have been entranced by these holy treasures, which lifted them from the drudgery of their meager existences into the ecstatic realms of religious devotion as they attended weekly Mass. 

This 17th or 18th century peasant or laborer was likely exposed to only one religion, and attended weekly indoctrination sessions -- I mean devotional services -- at their local church or cathedral. It became clear to me as I mused that becoming an adherent to the Catholic faith was practically inevitable for the vast majority of the population, peasants and nobility alike. Only the highly educated  would have been exposed to other belief-systems, and even fellow Christians of the Protestant or Eastern Orthodox persuasions would have been looked at askance. Jews, Muslims and non-believers were under constant threat of persecution. And I'm not just picking on the Catholic faith; Protestants and Eastern Orthodox observers were likewise guilty of intolerance, and religious persecution and violence, as were adherents of Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism in their realms, to name but a few. 

Having been born in the latter half of the 20th century, in a pluralistic society, and in a mixed religion household, my outlook has evolved very differently. My mother was raised Jewish (but not very) and my father Protestant (but not very). My family of upbringing always had a Hanukkah menorah and a Christmas tree this time of year. The only formal religious education I received was at the Brooklyn Society for Ethical Culture. As a teen and young adult, I explored several religions, mostly the various Protestant faiths of family members and friends.  Decades of exploration and introspection have led me to my current identity as an Ethical Culturist-Unitarian Universalist agnostic and a secular Jew. Had I been born in a different place and time, my religious outlook would likely have been very different.

A modest proposal for peace

 

I am neither a political scientist, nor a military expert, but as a citizen of the world, witnessing the mayhem that has been going on in the Middle East, particularly in Israel and Palestine, I've determined that my opinion is as valid as anyone's, and since this is my blog, I'm going to lay out a framework for peace that may or may not actually work.

The Middle East is home to various religions: Islam (both Sunni and Shia), Christianity, Judaism, Druzism, the Baha'i faith, Sikhism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism and more. There are subsects of these major religions, and the adherents vary greatly in degree of devotion and practice. Additionally, there are many ethnic groups who inhabit the region, including Arabs, Turks, Persians, Egyptians, Kurds and Jews to name a few. Putting together a comprehensive framework for the entire region would be a Herculean task, and I am not going to attempt it. For the purpose of this blogpost, I will focus on the ongoing conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. Please forgive any hubris that may be inferred from my humble attempt to tackle this vast subject. But there has been so much turmoil and destruction of late that by putting fingers to keyboard, I am at least able to vent a little of the vexation, even if no one is listening.

I have long advocated for a two-state solution for Israel and Palestine. The Palestinian people (whose name is derived from the word "Philistines") have inhabited the region for millennia, and are as entitled to a homeland as the Jews. While I support the State of Israel, I believe it must be modified in order to embrace its non-Jewish citizens in a more inclusive way.

So here's my modest proposal. There would be two countries: Israel and Palestine. They would each be a sovereign state, but would be members of a binding federation, and rights would be enshrined in their respective constitutions. The current inhabitants of the territories of Israel and Palestine would have freedom of movement, and have the ability to choose which country to retain citizenship and live in. The State of Israel could retain its current symbols such as the Magen David flag, national anthem ("Hatikvah"), and menorah emblem, if the majority so wishes. Non-Jews who chose to be citizens of Israel would have absolute freedom to practice any religion they choose, including no religion, and would have all of the same rights as Jews. The official languages would be Hebrew and Arabic.

The State of Palestine would have similar laws and rights including absolute freedom of religion. The flag could remain the current one (black, white, green and red). I don't know whether Palestinians have a national anthem; if not they can choose one. The official languages would be Arabic and Hebrew.

People of other faiths, such as Christians and Druze, currently live in Israel and Palestine. I don't see the feasibility of creating separate countries for those groups at present -- let's settle the issue of those who identify as either Israeli or Palestinian, regardless of religion, for now. A Muslim can choose to be a citizen and resident of Israel, and a Jew can be a citizen and resident of the new State of Palestine, if they so choose. 

The "Federation of Israel and Palestine" would have reciprocal agreements on issues of defense, immigration, and economic aid. They could create an entity similar to NATO with a commitment to mutual defense, but each country would have their own military and law enforcement personnel.

Issues such as national borders would have to be negotiated and worked out, but I think an approximate reversion to the pre-Six-Day War borders could be a starting point, with most of the territory of the Gaza Strip and West Bank becoming the new sovereign State of Palestine. Jews would continue to have the "right of return," as would Palestinian exiles and refugees, many of whom currently live in Jordan. 

I know this skeleton of a plan does not solve all of the conflicts and we will never get 100% agreement on the concept or details. There is no way to please everyone, but fairness must prevail. Both sides have legitimate grievances against each other, but for this to work all past wrongs must be swept away and we must start with forgiveness and an almost clean slate.

Please don't comment, "This is never going to work," or "But they instigated it," or "We were here first." I'd rather focus on positivity, and the minute chance that a lasting peace can be achieved.

Is my cat Jewish?

 

One of my earliest blogposts here explored the question: "Am I Jewish?" After decades of introspection, I've come up with a response to myself, and the short answer is "yes." The longer answer is "yes, but it's not my religion." 

Today, as I was "oy veying" (as I often do), I turned to my cat, Dexter, and asked him, "Are you a Jewish cat?" Now that may seem silly or even irreverent, but as you probably know if you've been following my blogs, that's kind of the way I think about lots of things: absurdly and irreverently. But even in silliness, there often lies truth. Another of my posts dealt with the apparently wacky question of whether cats are preferable to boyfriends, yet even this query was not meant entirely in jest. 

Of course, Dexter did not respond to my question, at least not in any way I could interpret. Despite his affectionate glance in my direction, I'm quite sure he did not grasp my meaning, unless his understanding of English is better than I'd assumed, or cats are able to read minds, which I highly doubt.

The query, "Are you a Jewish cat?" was probably meant more for myself than for Dexter. So I thought about it for a few seconds. Well, his mother (that's me) is Jewish, so according to matrilineal descent, Dexter must be Jewish too. But then I'm not his biological mom, and I imagine that rabbis may differ on interpretation. Dexter was a rescue kitty, so I know nothing of his biological ancestry, not that it would matter anyway. Felines have no religion, and I doubt that Halakha even broaches this subject. 

Though this line of inquiry serves mostly as self-amusement, the mental exercise does point to a deeper meaning: What is the nature of religious identity, and does it hinge on genetics or belief? The more pious folks in my family will sneer at the absurdity of this question. Those on the Christian side would balk at the suggestion that one can inherit religion. They believe that salvation requires acceptance of a creed, (i.e., you can't be "born" a Christian; you must be reborn). Most of the Jews in my family are either Reform or non-observant, so they'd probably be amused along with me at the thought of a Jewish cat. As my faithful blog followers are well aware, I often address the question of religion, sometimes in an irreverent way. I do not mean to be disrespectful, nor do I wish to ridicule. Few topics are "off limits" to me, and if anyone is offended they can merely stop reading, or can leave a negative comment. Free speak rules supreme at "Musings and discoveries..." !

Is happiness all it's cracked up to be?

 

Are you happy? We've all been asked this question in various forms throughout our lives, and I've asked it of myself as well. But instead of smiling (internally or externally) when the subject is brought up, I cringe, and I've begun to explore why that is.

When I'm feeling at my optimal level of mental health, I prefer to use words such as contentment, satisfaction and peace instead of happiness. "Happiness" feels too difficult to achieve, and it would put more stress on me to attempt that lofty goal, because I don't believe I can realistically reach it.

I have suffered from mood swings -- usually mild but sometimes more intense -- for decades. It's probably in my genes since bipolar disorder runs in my family. I have utilized mental health professionals as needed, and for me, the healthiest state of mind is one of calmness and fulfilment. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am "at peace with the world," but there is a sense of relaxation and ease, and occasionally, a faint smile may even appear on my face.

Happiness on the other hand feels like a challenge, and I'm more comfortable lowering my goals and expectations. Of course, this is just semantics, but I'm a writer and word choice can be powerful, even when used solely for internal dialogue. I do experience joy on occasion, but maintaining a long-term state of happiness doesn't feel right for me. It's like having a smile on my face at all times, blissfully existing as if there are no cares in the world. I do not agree with Pangloss's philosophy, that "everything is for the best, in this the best of all possible worlds." Such a level of bliss feels inconsistent with my inner being; I'm too much of a realist.

Life is a highly personalized journey, and I would not dare discourage others from achieving true happiness, if that is a meaningful and relevant concept for them. For myself, however, tranquility feels more within my grasp.  Browning's "Andrea del Sarto" and I will just have to agree to disagree, but each to his own, as long as we don't trample on each other's toes.