Mincha and Lentil Soup

Living in an orthodox jewish community, a usually difficult problem, that of finding a venue for the mid-day prayer (Mincha) in the midst of the workday, is rather easily solved.

Many merchants in our local community, especially those with large staffs and even larger stores, can easily provide both the venue and the manpower (10 adult men for a quorum) and in fact, do so.

At the supermarket, the prayer takes place in a section of the warehouse where the worshippers pray facing things like cartons of "1 Gross Canned Peas" or "24 count Kellogs Rice Krispies" or "Calf's Foot Jelly - 48 jars", certainly not distracting enough to sway them from their devotions.

Not so the bookstore. There, the prayer service is conducted among the latest kosher cookbooks titled in order to induce salivation (not to be confused with salvation) in addition to a physical need to purchase the volume. How then to give your undivided attention to the lord above with "Secrets of 125 Luscious Breads" or "The Best of Near Eastern Cooking" or "99 Best Cherry Dishes" decorated with pictures of the most perfect, mouth watering dishes staring you in the face whenever you open your eyes.

Just recently, I was amused by a fellow worshipper who, while mouthing out loud the holiest part of the litany, was holding a cookbook (instead of a prayer book) opened to a page entitled "Winter Lentil Soup."

I think we need to move the service to the aisle with titles like, "The Power of Thoughtful Prayer" or "Know Before Whom You Stand." It might not improve the worship, but at least they won't be reading the books.

Fluffy

A month in theory, days in fact.

This is the story of Fluffy.

Boo went to camp for the month of July. As soon as she left, I started to write her e-mails ( which the camp prints and gives to the girls at lunch, much easier than actual letters) recounting the exploits of Fluffy, our pet. However, I never actually told her what Fluffy was.

This went on for the first two weeks she was gone, and on visiting day, she asked me about Fluffy, but i was evasive.

Now Fluffy was still in the imagination stage at this point, so I figured I would just have to kill off Fluffy before she got home. As an avid reader of books that routinely kill off pets and people "Daddy, you should read this book, its very sad" I figured it would not be such a big deal.

However, as I am a softy, and only read books with happy endings, and don't like to kill off animals unless they tear up my back yard, I didn't like this solution, so I was in a bit of a dilemma.

Ace saved the day when she suggested that we get a goldfish. I thought this was brilliant, as Feeders are usually pretty cheap, easy to care for, don't last all that long, and are the last thing that would be named Fluffy. So off the the pet store she went to get Fluffy.

Boo comes home and forgets to ask for Fluffy. I met her and Lovey in the City and asked her if she met Fluffy, to which Lovey replied that she locked (hid?) Fluffy in the bathroom until I came home.

So now we were home and time for the big reveal, I went in to the bathroom and came out proudly bearing Fluffy. The reaction?


" Fluffy is a FISH?!?!?!"

The Further Adventures of Soupeater and the Good Companion

We had so much fun at West Point we decided on another adventure, this time into the maw of the big city. A frightening place to a country boy like me but the good companion finds the activity and "action", energizing.

We decided on a cruise around Manhattan, probably one of the most exciting activities for out-of-towners that can be found in the big apple. The oracles of weather had predicted a beautiful day but that changed and the grey skies and small raindrops that we encountered as we were leaving the house did not bode well for the trip. We had some errands to do before sailing time and the sky became progressively lighter as we approached the berth that we decided to chance it. Off to the west we could see breaks in the clouds and only hoped that not too long into the trip the sun would come out. We sailed out from pier 83 at 42nd street and sailed southward. The George Washington Bridge was only a fuzzy image to the north and we concentrated on Manhattan's skyline with occasional glances at the Jersey shore. We were approaching Lady Liberty and it was still cloudy but that didn't prevent me from taking many photographs of this almost 150 year old statue. Ellis Island also came into view, but still, no sunshine.

As the ship turned about and we faced the massive buildings and the lacework of bridges of lower Manhattan, the sky began to lighten in earnest and somewhat past the Brooklyn Bridge the sun came out. Much before we came back out into the Hudson, the weather was fine, excellent for taking pictures.

Although the bridges of Madison County (IA) are the things of legend, the bridges of Manhattan are the things of reality, and what massive reality! Here is a sampling of them for your enjoyment.


Part of our plan was to attend the Shakespeare in the Park festival which is a feature of New York. For about 2 months every summer, the Delacorte Theater, amphitheater like, in the heart of Central Park, puts on two plays, one of which, at least, is by Shakespeare. This year, they produced 2 Shakespeare plays, "Measure for Measure" and "All's Well that Ends Well." Admission is free of charge but definitely not free of hassle as can be perceived by the convoluted procedure for acquiring tickets. Performance is at 8 o'clock. At 1:00 PM, tickets are distributed to those awaiting them, first come, first served. There are three lines, regular, handicapped and senior. Since the tickets are given out at 1:00, obviously a line (or 3 in this case)forms somewhat before this time.

Theoretically, any time after 1:00 is a time to obtain tickets. We had driven from the pier and miraculously found a legal parking spot on Central Park West about 5 cars from 81st Street. The entrace to the park which leads to the theater is at 81st Street. Not having a clue where the theater was we asked one and then another of the many people standing or sitting in the area. One girl pulled out a map and let me look at it but it wasn't detailed enough to give us the information we needed. Another couple tried to bring it up on a phone GPS but couldn't get a reception. It seems that no one roaming the area at that time of day is a native. We finally did find someone who gave us rudimentary directions and we found the theater.

We got there at 4:15PM. There were no tickets left; all sold out. As we were sitting on a bench contemplating our next move, a fellow bench sitter told us that at 6:00 pm there would be another distribution of tickets. We didn't want to wait until then so we decided to go to Brooklyn.

Now, if you have a perfect parking spot, free of charge in Manhattan, you don't easily want to move your car and especially since driving to Brooklyn during rush hour can be nerve wracking and time consuming and expensive into the bargain Luckily we spotted a subway station on the corner and immediately decided to take the train to Brooklyn. I hadn't been in the subway for at least five years and it was a pleasant experience. The F train has some new cars with an electronic sign board showing all the future stations along with connection information and the number of stops until the train gets there, updating at each stop. Fun to watch if you don't have a book and you have scoped out all the wierd passengers in your car.

It was a little after 7:00 pm when we got back to 81st street and seemed rather dark coming out of the subway, not at all what we expected at the beginning of July. It didn't take long for us to realize that we were under an approaching thunder cloud. As we entered the park we felt some drops, nothing serious, but then the heavens opened up. People were clustered around trees shielding themselves as best they could with donut boxes, bits of clothing that they could remove and still remain within the ordinances on public exposure, ponchos, etc. The good companion already had the umbrella out and it helped a great deal.

A line had again formed and we were told that there would be a further distribution of tickets by 7:30. It was already very close to curtain time and we were assured that there would be enough tickets to satisfy those waiting for them. The sun had come out again, the skies cleared and we waited and waited. Some said that the staff were drying the seats and some speculated that the program would be canceled. Time dragged on. Clearly the performance would not begin on time and by 8:15 we realized that even if the 2 hour and 45 minute play were to start by 8:30 we probably wouldn't get home till about 1:00 AM, so after all that we decided to leave. The staff was sorry to see us go.

All's well, but it didn't end well.

Silliness Cookware

I relative of my wife's has a profile picture on facebook that showed a picture of the bottom of a frying pan that said " I kiss better than I cook".

Now this seems silly for a variety of reasons, which I am going to share with you, the lucky reader!

I realize that it is really a novelty piece, but it is still rather dumb. The people who hang all their pots are usually Town and Country types, with enormous kitchens ( that they don't cook in) who have all matching copper pots. They would not be white trailer park trash to hang something so tacky in their kitchen. So more likely it would be hung by someone from a push pin, next to the empty beer can from the final season at Shea stadium, and between the Keep on Truckin' hat and the Kiss the Cook apron. ( At least that's a theme!)

However, the other, practical reason for the pan is reflected in the comment I posted on the page, which was

"If its on the bottom of a frying pan, who would see it but the guy about to get bashed by it???? And at THAT point, neither kissing nor cooking is usually on the woman's mind."

Now if it said I cook and/or kiss better than I run, the guy would have a chance to get out of the way.

....By The Dawn's Early Light

I went to West Point for the fourth of July celebration, a mixture of musical performance, army academy ceremonies and of course, fireworks. We have attended several of these celebrations in the past so we thought we knew what we were in for.

We arrived an hour early for the 8PM performance, but the extra time was quickly eaten up by waiting in long traffic lines and then trying to find a parking spot. On a conventional Sunday afternoon, trophy point looks like this. The flat lower portion directly in front of the bandshell contains rows of long benches which are usually never full. The meadow usually contains a sprinkling of folding chairs and blankets with dogs running on long leashes. The hills leading up to the monument at the summit is usually dotted with people, coolers at their sides filled with drinks and sandwiches and other easily consumed comestibles. It is reminiscent of a lazy late afternoon, people doing their thing while listening to the band play marches and other lively tunes, including a vocal soloist and, more often than not, an instrument soloist as well.

July 4th is a bit different. It is more crowded, the hillsides are packed with people, the program is different. They usually begin by introducing the cadets who march into trophy point. Each class is introduced and that takes a while. Then cadets, representing the 50 states, are introduced, each one carrying his state flag and upon introduction, a cannon is fired.

Then the program begins. It is usually a medley of american marches and other favorites, culminating in Tchaikovsky's 1812 overture with cannon and fireworks as the piece reaches its peroration.

Since it was so crowded we found seats just across the roadway from the monument. The road was closed to vehicular traffic so there was no one close in front of us as we contemplated the monument, the crowd, and a beautiful evening sky. We couldn't see the stage nor could we hear too much. We did hear the Star Spangled Banner which, I was glad to know, was still on the program, especially in light of what occured afterwards.

I had trudged up from a parking space about a mile away from the action and arrived on the scene just after the cadets had made their procession. The places that my good companion had reserved for us were indeed front row and center but to the road, not the stage. Our chairs were on grass and we were surrounded on the sides and back by other people, likewise having misjudged the crowd although one of our neighbors assured us that they had been there since four in the afternoon. The musical program began, but for a variety of reasons we didn't really get much out of it.

First of all, we couldn't hear that well since the sound needed to travel over the hill and through a mass of people. Secondly, it occurred to us that most of the audience was completely uninterested in the program having come solely for the fireworks and were engaged in socializing on a grand scale. Right behind us, sat a group of three couples and their families, the leader of which was a loudmouth know-it-all with a particularly penetrating voice. He didn't shut up for a moment making it difficult to appreciate even the music we did hear. At the end of one piece for solo baritone which we could hardly make out, he remarked without drawing breath from his unending soliloquy, "Hey that guy has a pretty good voice." This sent us and some of the neighbors around us into paroxysms of laughter. The guy behind us continued on as before, oblivious to all but himself. The good companion finally asked him to speak a bit lower which he did (or maybe just ran out of steam [hot air]).

The sky slowly darkened and the young people, flitting from place to place formed a moving tableau of glowing reds, greens and blues worn in their hair, on their wrists and on their ankles or just waving the flexible glow wands in the air. It was a lovely sight. Meanwhile, an entertainment group took over the stage. The MC spoke in a language that I didn't understand but was assured it was English. The crowd went wild with his jokes and sang along with the songs the group performed cheering wildly most of the time. It was a festive evening, one of the loveliest of this season. As it became dark, the excitement was palpable as the hour approached for the start of the main event. It did not disappoint. For 15 minutes the sky was lit and the atmosphere percussed with the reds,greens browns, golds, whites and yellows of the explosive charges. Some particularly beautiful displays were of a kind I had seen before. The reds and greens did not immediately fade as they usually do in conventional fireworks. They remained lambent with solid colors almost like holiday tinsel, suspended in the air. They eventually dropped and were extinguished as they fell to the ground.

The walk back to the car among thousands of others, orderly and mannerly reminds me that there can be calm in crowds. Overall, it was an enjoyable evening but I doubt we will do it again in the near future.

As a clever saying attributed to Yogi Berra says, "That place is so crowded, no one goes there anymore."

How to Beat Hunger for Free

Ace is worried.

I can't really blame her. With all the others gone for the month, we are officially in slow down mode. This means that once the weekend leftovers are gone, food is whatever can be defrosted from the freezer. Since neither Lovey or me are that particular, supper could very well be a frozen pretzel. Period.

We have been informed that she intends to be out all the time. (I think we have gotten to the lofty position of being able to embarrass her even when it is just her and us in the house alone. I defy all you other parents of teenagers to attain that level! We are the ALPHA GEEKS!!!!!) And once she is with other people, I guess she can hang around until someone offers to feed her. We just ask her to bring us something back from them.

So if my sisters are reading this, I prefer my steak medium well.