The joys of "throwing out"

In a rare burst of energy and enthusiasm, I decided to tackle my underwear drawers. The "treasures" I was able to finally part with included:

20 year old sports bras in near mint condition.

30 year old silk camisoles and lacy strapless bras that bring back memories of black tie galas, and the sexy strapless dresses I once wore, and of being a bridesmaid long before I was a bride.

Panties in pristine condition, some brand new, that I could still wear again, if I lost 40 pounds.

Socks with "sentimental" value because they have cats on them and were gifts from my sister, but are now dingy and have long lost all of their elasticity.

Really warm and thick socks, from my early twenties, when I wore heavy work boots in the snow, instead of the more practical black Uggs. Those work boots are long gone, but if I remember correctly, they looked something like this:

These are the ones I wear now when it snows, and they're even warmer and more comfortable than the work boots. As far as style... judge for yourself:

I now have much neater and more organized underwear drawers, and threw out enough stuff to produce an entire empty drawer, waiting to be filled again! But nothing went to waste. I brought the two shopping bags full of my old memories to Housing Works, the charity thrift store where I volunteer. We don't resell underwear, unless it's brand new and still in the package, but we send out any donated textiles to be recycled. Someday, my sports bras, strapless bras, panties and old socks will be reincarnated as something useful, and worn again by some needy person.

OY VEY!

I'm in a Facebook group called "Hanukkah" with over twenty thousand members. I was innocently scrolling along, and commenting here and there on a post about holiday trees and menorahs. My comment was that people should put up whatever type of decorations that give them joy, and I got more positive reactions than negative ones. There was a lively discussion on whether Jews should or should not decorate their homes this time of year, especially with what looks for all intents and purposes like a Christmas tree. Are Hanukkah bushes appropriate or are we just co-opting someone else's religious tradition? Does it make a difference if the decorations are in blue and white, not red and green? What if you live in a mixed-religion household? Do you need special dispensation from your rabbi? 

The discussion was getting a little heated, so I jumped from Facebook to Blogger to continue the debate -- with myself -- in a more reasoned and civil manner:

Q: You practice Judaism, right? 

A: Well, not exactly.

Q: Huh? Then why are you in this Facebook group?

A: I'm Jewish, but it's not my religion.

Q: Wait, you're Jewish, but it's not your religion?

A: It depends on how you define "religion."

Q: Religion is what you believe in about God and the supernatural. 

A: That's not how I define "religion."

Q: Oh, so now we're arguing semantics?

A: Seems like it.

Q: But you believe in God, right?

A: A deity is not a meaningful concept regarding how I live my life. I consider myself agnostic, but I lean more towards atheism, or at least non-theism.

Q: Oy vey! So what is your "religion" then? 

A: I have two: Ethical Culture and Unitarian Universalism. Neither of them requires belief in a god or gods and they don't contradict each other in any meaningful way. They really only differ in style and lexicon. In fact clergy members can be both UU ministers and Ethical Culture Leaders simultaneously.

Q: That's weird. So what do you believe in?

A: I believe in lots of things. I have principals that I live by and I know that there is something greater than myself.

Q: Greater than yourself? Sounds like you believe in God.

A: Not exactly. The jury is still out on that one. And what exactly do you mean by "God" anyway?

Q: Oy vey! 

A: What if we call it a "spiritual community" instead of a "religion"? Would that make you happy?

Q: Spiritual? So you do believe in something supernatural!

A: Spirituality does not have to refer to things outside of nature. Spirit is what motivates us, what lifts us out of ourselves to think and act in ways that help others and our planet. Spirituality is what lies deep within, but feels bigger than ourselves. Frankly I don't care what anyone believes in. You can worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster for all I care. What I care about is what you do, not what you believe, and whether you treat others with respect, empathy and kindness.

Q: Okay, that sounds reasonable. You can call it what you want -- spirituality, religion. And it doesn't sound so bad after all.

A: Thank you. 

Q: Go in peace!

A: You as well!

Of volleyballs, cats and humans

Do movies ever make you cry? I have to admit that some have that effect on me, though at least nowadays, I'm generally at home on my sofa with no one but my cat to witness it. I can't remember the last time I was in a movie theater, so this display of emotion usually takes place in private.

I recently happened upon Cast Away, the 2000 film starring Tom Hanks, as I was flipping through the channels. I probably hadn't seen it in over 20 years so I decided to watch. I was in the midst of working on holiday cards, to be signed and addressed by hand. I don't use printed labels, nor do I send them en masse as e-cards. I was looking for something to watch that didn't require my full concentration, but was more like background music while I tried to complete the tedious task. Usually, when I want to watch a movie, I go to a streaming platform because I hate commercial interruptions. But since I had seen this film before, and it was really only on as background noise, I started to watch. I had liked it very much when I first saw it over 20 years ago, so I could sort of pay attention to it and get the cards done at the same time. If I missed a little of the action, at least I already knew the gist of the plot.

As it turned out, I became totally engrossed in the film, and the commercial interruptions were actually useful, both as breaks during which to address a couple of cards, and as emotional speed bumps as well. Why the need for emotional speeds bumps? Because the film was so much more riveting, thought-provoking and poignant than I had remembered, and the commercial breaks gave me a chance to recover between scenes.

Tom Hanks is amazing, and if you've never seen this movie (or haven't seen it in 20 years) I strongly recommend it. But aside from the compelling plot and extraordinary special effects, the film tugged at my heart, and ultimately, real tears began to flow. During those commercial respites, I also had the chance to reflect on some of the underlining themes and deeper messages, and even began to compose this blogpost in my head. I didn't get up from the sofa to type or take any notes. My blogposts are usually not written in one sitting; they require a lot of mulling, musing and amending over several days.

For me, the emotional impact of the film was at least as important as the thrilling plot. Hank's character has to learn how to make fire, hunt and somehow survive for four years on a desolate island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But even more meaningful to me were his struggles with the crushing loneliness and isolation. Ultimately, he finds a friend in an anthropomorphized object, which serves as his close companion and confidant until he is finally rescued and returns to civilization.

I became choked up during the scene when Tom is drifting on his raft, desperately crying, "Wilson, Wilson!" (If you've seen the movie you'll likely remember this.) But my tears began to flow in earnest later on, when Tom is reunited with his girlfriend, who had presumed him dead for the past four years and gotten on with her life.

Tom's relationship with Wilson the volleyball is deeply moving, and as a lover of anthropomorphized objects myself -- my collection of stuffed animals to be precise -- I could definitely relate. Wilson becomes a character in his own right and it is clear that if not for the companionship of the volleyball, Tom would likely not have been able to survive.

As I watched the film, my cat Dexter was curled up on a chair nearby. Dexter is much more than a Wilson to me, since he's a sentient creature, which (unlike a volleyball) lives, breathes, purrs and displays real affection. I believe pets are capable of love, even if they don't possess the vocabulary to understand it the way humans do. 

Which brings me to another tear-jerker movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, with Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, one of my all-time favorites. The final scene in which Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, desperately cries, "Cat, Cat!" (much like Tom Hanks's "Wilson, Wilson!") always brings me to tears, no matter how many times I've watched this movie. The protagonists of both Cast Away and Breakfast at Tiffany's evince that humans crave connections with other humans. Lacking that, they develop loving relationships with pets -- or even volleyballs -- if that's all they have available to them. 

Tribalism in politics, religion, and baseball

It feels like our society is more divided than at any other point in my recollection. As November 5 approaches, I am filled with uncertainty, not about whom to vote for, but about how our country will survive the possible consequences of this election. I'm not going to tell you how I think you should vote. If you know me, that should be obvious. If you don't, then please comment below or get in touch with me via Facebook and we can have a long discussion about it. The object of this post is not to promote a particular candidate or party, but to examine the phenomenon of what I'll call "tribalism" in our society, especially as it is expressed in politics, religion, and baseball.

Let me start with perhaps the least controversial of the three: baseball. As many of you know, I am a lifelong, diehard fan of the New York Mets, who recently ended their amazing season and postseason at the hands of the Los Angeles Dodgers. Being of the philosophical bent that I am, I have pondered over the years why I am a Mets' fan and what exactly does that mean. My usual explanation is that I have always been a Mets' fan, my family of upbringing were Mets' fans and my parents were Brooklyn Dodgers' fans who embraced the new National League team, which appeared on the scene a few years after the Dodgers left. I was too young to understand this at the time, but according to my parents, there was no way that they were going to start rooting for the Yankees. To give my parents the ethical benefit of the doubt, I think I can attribute at least part of their fervor for the Brooklyn Dodgers to Branch Rickey and his signing of Jackie Robinson in 1945 to facilitate the end of the color barrier in Major League Baseball.

Now some fifty-five years after the Miracle Mets amazed the world with a World Championship in 1969 (which I vaguely remember) and fifty-one years after the Mets lost in the 1973 World Series to the Oakland A's (which I painfully remember), I cannot claim any moral high ground in my decision to remain a steadfast fan. Is it because the colors of royal blue and orange form the most beautiful palette from among the thirty MLB team designs? Is it because I am fond of certain players -- players who may change from one season to the next and may even be playing for the Yankees or Dodgers next year? Is it because I have always lived in New York? Then why don't I feel the same way about the Yankees? (I don't.) Is it because Mr. and Mrs. Met are the coolest mascots in all of sportsdom? I don't think it's any of those reasons. I think it's probably just tribalism.

So if I'm a Mets' fan because I've always been a Mets' fan, and my family of upbringing were Mets' fans, does the same apply to my choices of political party affiliation and religion? Yes and no. While it is correct that my political party and religion align closely with that of my late parents, I investigated other religions, before finally settling on the same one that my parents promoted to my brother and me when we were kids. Am I open to changing my religion? Probably. If a deity revealed himself or herself to me I am likely to accept that revelation, once I've scrutinized the evidence and convinced myself that it is not mere fancy or mental illness at work. Do I think it's a coincidence that most people adhere to the religion of their parents, just as I have? No, certainly not. I believe that tribalism is the primary reason that most folks end up either Protestant, Catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Zoroastrian, etcetera, etcetera... Of course there are many converts; I know some personally. I've written multiple blogposts about my own religious views and background so I don't think it's necessary to elaborate here. If you're curious, you can message me and we can discuss it further. 

My parents, especially my father, certainly influenced my political outlook, but I'd like to think that I make my decisions on whom to vote for after much research, introspection, and soul-searching. As we face a presidential election of great consequence, I've given much thought to both candidates, and continue to be amazed that the race is as close as it is. How a thinking, feeling person can stomach the other candidate is beyond my comprehension, but I believe that tribalism, prejudice and a lack of critical reasoning are contributing factors in why many people, including some whom I know and love, will be voting for the other person. I will cast my vote on November 5 and encourage you to do the same, and please, try to think a little "outside the tribe" at this critical time in our democracy. 

Why not Liberty?

 

If you're a regular follower of this blog, or a Facebook friend, you know that I am a diehard fan of the New York Mets, who recently suffered defeat at the hands of the Los Angeles Dodgers in the National League Championship Series. 

But just as I was grieving the Mets' loss, another New York City team was winning a championship, and I didn't even realize it until the next morning. The New York Liberty won the WNBA Final against the Minnesota Lynx in overtime at Barclays Center in Brooklyn on the same night that the Dodgers ended the Mets' amazing run in L.A. 

I was aware that the Liberty were playing in the Final in Brooklyn at the same time as the Mets were trying to survive another day in the MLB playoffs. But I'm not much of a basketball fan, having attended only one professional game in my life. It was a Knicks' game at Madison Square Garden over thirty year ago. I went with a group of friends and don't remember much about the game, not even who the Knicks played or who won. The only thing that I remember about the experience was how high up our seats were. I did enjoy watching basketball games in high school and college (both of my schools' teams played in the gymnasium, not an arena, and were not in one of the highly competitive intermural leagues). 

If the Knicks or Nets make it to the NBA Final I would probably watch the games, just as I would watch the Giants or Jets if either made it to the Super Bowl. I cheered for the Cleveland Cavaliers when they won the NBA championship in 2016 because my relatives in Ohio are avid fans. It was the first time in several decades that a major league team in any sport in Cleveland had won a championship. (I also root for the Cleveland Guardians on behalf of my Ohio kin, as long as they're not playing the Mets!)

Besides baseball, my favorite sport to watch is football (or soccer, as you Americans call it). I prefer international matches (like the World Cup or UEFA European Championship) but will occasionally watch an MLS match, especially if a New York team is playing.  

The New York Liberty will get their ticker-tape parade up the "Canyon of Heroes" on October 24, and I will not be there. For one thing, I hate crowds, and for another, I can't really claim to be a fan of the team. I don't think I've ever watched a game and would feel like a bit of a fraud, only jumping on the band wagon after they've won a championship. Yes, I would root for them because they are a New York team, but I haven't suffered the agonies of defeat with them in prior seasons, as I have with my beloved, though often underperforming Mets.

Besides tennis and golf, women's professional sports generally don't get the attention or revenues that men's sports do. As a feminist, I should be more supportive of the WNBA, as well as the National Women's Soccer League and the recently launched Association of Fastpitch Professionals (a women's softball league with a New York team). There is fame and fortune in women's gymnastics and figure skating, and many female Olympic athletes do get the renown (if not the money) that they deserve. The U.S. women's national soccer team has had far more success internationally than the men's team, and they've succeeded in settling a lawsuit with the U.S. Soccer Federation for equal pay with their male counterparts.

So congratulations to the New York Liberty on their championship. I'll probably be paying you a little more attention in the future.

Be happy with what you've got: living with disabilities and other inconveniences

 

Sometimes the most trite, well-worn platitudes really do ring true. I recently returned from a two week trip to beautiful Turkiye. It was supposed to be 18 days, but then I got sick and ended up in the emergency room. An overnight stay in a foreign hospital, where few doctors or nurses speak English, is not the ideal side-trip for a vacation. I left (against medical advice) and got on a JFK-bound plane the next day. I missed a couple of cities that I had planned (and paid) to visit, not to mention missing a traditional Turkish bath, seeing a Whirling Dervish ritual and getting a ride in a hot air balloon in Cappadocia.  Sigh.

I absolutely loved Turkiye, and if we happen to be friends on Facebook I encourage you to check out the hundreds of photos I posted. I plan to return, hopefully in a year or two, to pick up where I left off. This trip was a group tour, but I'm trying to stir up interest among friends and family to join me on a trip where we see what we want and go at our own pace. A possible itinerary I'm contemplating is flying to Athens (I've never been to Greece), then visiting a couple of Greek islands (like Rhodes or Lesbos), then taking a ferry to Turkiye, maybe to Fethiye or Antalya (where I left off this time) and then on to Cappadocia, Konya and Gobekli Tepe. We can then fly to Istanbul for a few days before returning to the USA. 

So what does this have to do with "living with disabilities"? I think I am in pretty good health for my age, and generally able to withstand hours of sightseeing in rugged terrains or crowded cities. I am not blind or deaf and I have all of my limbs. "Disabilities" may be too strong a word, but I do have to live with IBS, lactose intolerance, and chronic hip bursitis. (I've had IBS for decades and bursitis for years, but the lactose intolerance only reared its ugly head about a year ago after a fateful and very unpleasant tussle with an ice cream cone. I'd never had a problem with dairy before, and was told by my doctor that lactose intolerance sometimes comes with age.)

It was a bit of a bummer missing out on Turkish ice cream, yogurt and cheese, but the tour group always had a substitute for me. (I was apparently the only "problem child" among us.) I learned to love baklava almost as much as ice cream, and kept reminding myself that excellent oat milk-based frozen treats awaited me at home. (I've already indulged in a vegan cone from Van Leeuwen, which has two stores in my neighborhood.) The delicate and crispy herb-infused appetizers I was given at lunch were probably as good as the feta-cheese-filled ones my fellow travelers were served. I've learned to cope, and to adjust to life as a semi-vegan (well, not really -- I still eat meat of all kinds, eggs and butter, not to mention all forms of carbohydrates.)

I began to feel ill a few days before I ended up in the hospital, and the first group excursion I missed was a yacht ride in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Fethiye. I felt it best to rest in my hotel room while my fellow travelers sailed, swam and snorkeled the Turquoise Coast. After resting a while I felt well enough for a walk around the piers and into downtown, where I indulged in a little "retail therapy." (This was probably the most expensive stomachache of my life.) 

The emergency room visit came in the next city, Antalya. After being sick but struggling along for four days, I asked our tour director if he could connect me with a doctor who spoke English. I didn't think I was dying but I'd never been sick for so many days straight, and the Imodium and Pepto Bismol I'd brought along were just not doing it. He suggested I speak to guest services at the hotel, who produced an English-speaking nurse within 15 minutes. It was a Sunday, so no doctors were available. But I followed the nurse's advice and accepted a cab ride to the private hospital which was practically across the street from the hotel. After another 15 minutes I saw a nurse, had blood drawn and was admitted. As far as hospitals go, it was very nice and the nurses extremely attentive. I saw a doctor the next morning, who wanted me to stay a few more days for more tests, but at that point I just wanted to go home. 

My hospital breakfast -- I must have forgotten to tell them I'm lactose intolerant, but I ate the olives, egg, roll, butter and cup of tea.

The view from my private hospital room was lovely (you can see the Taurus mountains and a bit of the Mediterranean) but it still pales in comparison to the awesome view from my hotel room (see first photo above). I paid the bill (about $1300 USD for an overnight stay, lab tests and an IV for pain and hydration) and was able to fly home the next day. I saw my own doctor two days later, and she said I likely had some kind of stomach bug, but since I was feeling much better and the Turkish meds were doing the trick, she wasn't particularly concerned. 

So I learned to make the most of a wonderful and yet at times unpleasant situation. And to quote another trite truism, "there's no place like home," especially with my cuddly cat, Dexter.

OH MY GOD... the agony and ecstacy of baseball

Oh My God -- the roller-coaster of emotions, the mental, physical, psychic and spiritual ups and downs of being a sports fan. (Fellow Mets' fans, you know exactly what I mean!) 

As a life-long Mets' fan, I understand the hopes, the joys, the anguish, and the disappointments of loving a team that will more often break your heart than make it into the post-season. (As I've said to console fellow Mets' fans many a season, if all we cared about was winning then we'd be Yankees' fans.) 

Last night was the last home game of the Mets' 2024 season and I watched it on ESPN along with millions of other people -- both Mets' fans and normal folk alike. I had attended the prior day's game at Citi Field as part of the sellout crowd. They were in the midst of a four-game series against the division-leading and decades-long rivals, the Philadelphia Phillies. I don't hate the Phillies; after all, they're not the Mets' ultimate nemesis and archfiend Atlanta Braves! (Plus my one-time favorite Met, the late Tug McGraw, was traded to the Phillies way back when I was a young lass. My heart was broken for a time, yes, but eventually I got used to seeing him wearing red instead of the familiar blue and orange, so I have a soft spot for the Phils, just like I do for the Cleveland Indians -- I mean Guardians -- because my relatives in Ohio love them so much.)

Back in May, a month when our record was nine and nineteen, few Mets' fans would have dreamed we'd now be among the three wild-card leaders, with a good chance of making it to the first round of the playoffs. (If the season ended today, we'd be tied with the Diamondbacks for the last wild-card spot, and two games ahead of the displaced Braves.) The Mets even have a theoretical chance of overtaking the Phillies for the division title. The Phils have clinched a playoff spot, though because the Mets beat them last night, they haven't clinched the division just yet. (Thank the baseball gods that the boys from Philadelphia didn't get to celebrate that milestone at the last home game of the regular season on our turf!) I have no doubt the Phillies will clinch the NL East title -- their magic number is one -- and they deserve it since they really are a great team. 

Attending the next-to-last home game of the season on Saturday at Citi Field was AMAZING! The Phillies took an early lead but the Mets came back in the bottom of the second inning to tie and go ahead by a run. The Phils re-tied it in the fifth, and it stayed that way until the Mets scored three times in the bottom of the seventh. Even that comfortable lead was cut by a run when the Phils scored in the top of the eighth. But Edwin Diaz held them at bay, and with the Mets matching that run in the bottom of the inning, we finished with a six to three victory, and Edwin got a well-deserved save. (Did you hear those trumpets playing, Mets' fans?)

Buckle your seat belts, Mets' fans, because we have a crucial three-game series against the Braves starting on Tuesday, and then we end the season in Milwaukee with three against Brewers, who have already clinched the Central Division title. So six more games -- six more chances for the Mets to either cement a play-off spot, or break their fans' hearts.

But I won't be here to watch ANY OF THAT. Tomorrow, just as the Braves are taking the field in Atlanta against our boys, I'll be getting on a plane for my ten hour flight to Turkey! (Unless, of course, my flight gets delayed and I'm stuck at JFK for a few hours or more. If that happens, I'm sure every bar and restaurant at the airport will have the game on TV -- we're in QUEENS, for goodness' sakes.) I don't return home until the middle of October, at which point the League Championship Series will just be getting underway -- I can only pray that the Mets will still be in it then!

I arrive in Istanbul at 10:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning (3 a.m. New York time), so once I get to my hotel and take my phone off "airplane mode" I can check the box score from Tuesday's opener against the Braves. Then I will be sightseeing and focusing on the beautiful country I am visiting for the next two and a half weeks, and not thinking about baseball at all (yeah, right...). The chances of finding a TV in Turkey with Mets' games are infinitesimally small. There's an outside chance that when the first round of MLB playoffs begins on October 1, they will be shown on some TV in some bar, somewhere in a large Turkish city. I will be in Kusadasi on the turquoise coast of the Aegean that day, hopefully not thinking about baseball.