Before I skip town, and for the record…..

I wanted to say that seeing The Brothers Size (starring three actors each of whom received MFAs at Yale in 2007) at the Studio was a treat, the asapao I had at Merkato before the show was a treat, listening to artist John Alexander at the Museum of American Art was a treat (although I don’t think that much of his artistic work – as the Post’s Blake Gopnik says, he is one of the 5000 best artists living in America today), the Baalbek cocktails I had last night at Lebanese Taverna was a treat.

I should also say that we will be away all week, and while postings are always possible, don’t be surprised if the next time you see one, it is next Sunday. When Michelle’s show will be a treat.

Good Riddance to Arun Gandhi

I never heard of Arun Gandhi, or the M.K. Gandi Center for Non-Violence of the University of Rochester. Gandhi, Mahatma’s grandson has, as you may have heard, resigned his leadership post after writing an article in the Washington Post (which the Washington Post published!) saying that Israel and Jews are the biggest perpetrators of violence in the world. Excuse me??

I understand that one can have all sorts of opinions about Israel and Palestinians and still be respectable and not have your intelligence questioned. But a comment like this, about as factually wrong as a comment can be, results in not only a total loss of credibility for the speaker, but an overwhelming display of pure, unadulterated stupidity.

The world is filled with terrible things; we all know that. But most violence today is the result of various followers of Islam, the so-called religion of peace. We all know that as well. And presumably it is violence that the Gandhi non-violence center is meant to oppose.

The Palestinian situation is horrible. It is horrible because both the Israelis and the Palestinians have worked their corner of the world to make it so. And the allies of each have knee-jerked supported these various positions, ensuring that a difficult problem has, for now, become unsolvable.

But history only takes you so far. And whether the Israelis or the Palestinians should have done something different in 1967 or 1987 is today irrelevant. What is relevant today is that Hamas, a group dedicated to the destruction of Israel, controls Gaza and Iran’s Hezbollah is ensconced in southern Lebanon, and that these are the two areas which Israel (rightly or wrongly) agreed to depart from unilaterally. And, until these groups are ready to give up their goal of the destruction of Israel, it is hard to suggest that Israel give up anything. Mutual recognition is a sine qua non; otherwise there is a perpetual state of war. And if the Palestinian leaders believe that eventually they will destroy Israel, this war-like condition can only continue until they prove correct, or until they finally change their position.

I understand that Arun’s grandfather was no friend of Zionism. But I don’t think he would have reached the conclusion that his grandson reached. Not in today’s world.

Gandhi grand-pere was a pacifist. I don’t know about Arun. And Gandhi was very successful in his pacifism. It led to the breakup of India and Pakistan. This in turn led to migrations of people in numbers infinitesimally greater than those involved in the movement of Jews and Palestinians in the middle east, to untold numbers of violent confrontations and deaths, and to two large neighbors, perpetually suspicious of and unfriendly to each other, each in possession of nuclear arsenals.

So, what do we say about Gandhi’s legacy? Is he the great moral authority on non-violence, or is he the cause of one of the most violent episodes of the twentieth century? As the apocryphal Chinese scholar said in response to a question about the effect of Napoleon on western Europe: “it is much too early to tell”.

Arun’s comments raise another issue as well. Why are we Jews so special that so many people believe that we do everything (good and bad) better than everyone else? Could it possibly be true? If not, why do they keep thinking so. If true, how would we think that others of good will should react?

The Accident

Hillel Mittelpunkt’s play “The Accident” had a reading at Theater J this afternoon directed by Hannah. The cast was excellent, and I thought the play needed very little tweaking. I enjoyed in thoroughly.

After the reading, after I had expressed my thoughts, Hannah said that she did not know how much I would like the play, since it deals with so many things that I usually don’t like.

Like what, I asked?

Like gratuitous foul language, inappropriate romantic entanglements, and moral depravity, she answered.

I thought about that. She was correct, but I thought the play was great and (almost, in an exaggerated and sardonic way) realistic.

My conclusions: Maybe now I like foul language, inappropriate romantic entanglements, and moral depravity.

A Few Notes About Florida (4 cents)

First, US Air did very well. The two flights (Reagan to Ft. Lauderdale and back) left and arrived on time; the pilots seem to know what they were doing; the crew was efficient.

Second, the view from my cousin Gerry’s 7th floor apartment in the Sabal Pointe Condominium on Ocean Avenue in Boca Raton is still as nice as always. Gerry and my cousin Judy, who drove up from South Dade County, look good and we had a fantastic dinner at Trattoria Romano on Palmetto Parkway in Boca Raton. We should have eaten there each night. Basically, a crowded, upscale seafood restaurant, Edie’s snapper and my pompano were both first class +.

Third, distances are always longer than you expect on the South Florida coast. We drove Ft. Lauderdale to Boca, Boca to Jupiter, Jupiter to Palm Beach, Palm Beach to Jupiter, Jupiter to Hobe Sound, Jupiter to Palm Beach, Palm Beach to Jupiter, Jupiter to Boca, Boca to Jupiter, Jupiter to Ft. Lauderdale. Total distance (with short side trips): about 400 miles.

Fourth, the remainder of our food was mixed at best. Edie thought that our Sunday night dinner at Jaffy’s in Jupiter was top quality; my sword fish was only swo-swo. We had two Latino lunches, at Jalisco in Delray Beach, and Havana just north of Boca; both were ordinary (we had eaten at Havana a few years ago, we realized after we went into the restaurant; it was ordinary then as well). The food at the Colony Hotel in Palm Beach was disappointing, as was half of the food at the Jupiter Resort and Spa (the other half was pretty good). The sandwiches we had at Harry & Natives were OK, but the atmosphere there is quirky, which is nice for a change, since everything else is so manicured. Our room at Jupiter was quite nice – they only need to add a better view.

Fourth, there really are a lot of old people in Florida. Many more, proportionately than here. I don’t like that. Even though most of them seem older than me. Being in rooms where the average age looks to be 80 does not make me think of myself as young. It makes me think that perhaps I am in a room with contemporaries.

Fifth, Florida radio is really bad. And, if they have any newspapers, other than USA Today, we sure didn’t see them.

Sixth, Edie got to tour the Flagler Museum in Palm Beach and take a walking tour of the business district. If she only had a blog………

Seventh, we went to the Nature Conservancy’s Blowing Rock Park, walked the beach, saw the sea grapes and the restoration work being done. Interesting, and very pleasant, but if you missed it, you wouldn’t have missed anything, I don’t think. Certainly not when compared to similar places we had gone to in Hawaii.

Eighth, the pharmacy business must be very big in Florida. The way we have Starbucks here, that is how they have CVS and Walgreens.

Ninth, the weather was 80+ and sunny two days, coldish (about 60) and gray one day, cool and overly windy (you could not stay outside for long) one day, and nice (but with a few showers) one day. Every day was better than any day we missed up here.

Tenth, read one book and parts of two others. The book I read was Somerset Maugham’s “The Painted Veil”. Highly recommended. The book I started and put aside was Andre Malraux’s “The Temptation of the West”. The book I started and hope to finish is Dennis Ross’ “Statecraft”.

Eleventh, saw a movie, “Atonement”. I liked the atmosphere it created and its pace; I thought it was extremely well acted. But I thought that the story line is overrated.

Twelfth, we were in Florida for a board meeting and symposium sponsored by Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. The symposium was fascinating; hopefully, I will find time to report on it later.

Owls and Q-Tips

Several years ago, I was flying from Washington DC to Ft. Myers, FL. I was sitting next to a very personable young lady who, in the course of our conversation, asked me if I was going to be renting a car when I got to Florida. I told her I was, and she told me to have a good time, but to watch out for the Owls and the Q-Tips. After she repeated this advice (at my request), I asked her what she was talking about.

Her explanation was that Florida was the home of many old retirees and that, while they fell into many categories, there seemed to be two categories who had trouble behind the wheel. There were the short elderly, who generally had a hard time seeing over the dashboard, so that they had to lean far forward, looking very intent, with their eyes wide-open. They were the Owls. Then there were the tall elderly, who sat back and ramrod straight, and whose clean, thin heads were topped by a ball of white hair. They were the Q-Tips.

Very clever, I thought and chuckled until, 24 hours later or so, I saw my first Owls and Q-Tips.

But that was long ago and now, having driven almost 400 miles over 5 days in Florida, being careful, always seeming to be looking for something or some place, a shudder went down my spine. I had become an Owl.

We Are in Florida (36 cents)

And this explains why there have been no postings.  We will be back on Wednesday, and you can learn where we ate, who we saw, where we stayed, who we heard, what we bought, and what the weather was like.

Well, I’ll Be!!

I just realized that Henry Waxman and Seth Waxman have the same last name.  Never occurred to me before.  I wonder if they know.

The Flood of 2007, Followed by the Flood of 2008

In the fall of 2007, unbeknown to us, our Deer Park water tank sprung a leak, warped our kitchen wood floor, and seeped down to the basement ceiling.  Emergency work included drying everything out with large fans and cutting holes in the basement ceiling to enable any lingering water to leak through.  We have collected from the insurance company, but have not yet scheduled the all-to-intrusive work of stripping, sanding, staining, and protecting the floors.

We did, however, arrange to have the basement painted and the ceiling repaired, and this was done last week.  Unfortunately, in cleaning off their brushes or rollers, they took the washing machine hose out of its usual resting place in the basement sink.  This was not noticed and the first small wash led to a flood that covered almost half of the basement, required more towels than we owned, ruined a dozen books, or so, and soaked everything that touched the ground either in the basement work area, or the guest suite.

Can I blame all of this (including the 2008 flood) on Deer Park, the same way historians blame Woodrow Wilson for Adolph Hitler?

A Crowd Showed Up

Out of nowhere, over 100 people showed up at the Extreme Exchange/Inkwell political theater evening yesterday. Hannah is a member of EE, and reprised her wordless playlet of two years ago. The event took place at the H Street Playhouse (15th and H, NE), where I thought it was impossible to draw a crowd, because the neighborhood is both iffy and out of the way for everyone except for a portion of Capitol Hill residents. At the Forum productions there, I have seen audiences of 20-30. But last night, for whatever reason, a crown showed up.

After the performance, there was a talk back (which to be frank, I could have done without). One of the opening questions was: why wasn’t there more political theater in DC. My answer was simple: this is not a political town. Although some people told me they agreed with me later in the evening, no one agreed with me at the time. But many in the audience mix up government with politics. If you are a government worker and work with governmental policies, whether or not you agree or disagree violently with them, you are not in a position to create political theater. To create political theater, you need to be on the outside.

You also need a political audience. In DC, where there are no Congressional races whatsoever, where there is no active presidential primary, where the Democratic candidate is going to get 90% of the vote on election day, and where local government is (for better or for worse) so racially charged and racially segregated, you just cannot find a large political audience. In DC, you can protest, but so what? And without the possibility of the “so what?”, the protests lose their fervor.

Shoe Laces and Peanuts

A beautiful day today, and I decided to take a walk. But where to go. I needed a goal. Then I remembered. I needed shoe laces, and I walked to the drug store about one half mile away.

Far to walk for a pair of shoe laces?

It reminded me of that warm St. Louis summer day in 1957, when a bunch of us were hanging around the pool at Bruce’s house. As the day droned on, we decided that we were hungry. We wanted peanuts.

My friend Fred (age 16), my friend Mike (age 16) and I (age 15) got into Mike’s sister’s car, a relatively new white Buick. And we decided that we would go to a grocery store in Kirkwood (about ten miles south of us off Lindbergh). The trip seemed a bit exotic. None of us knew anyone in Kirkwood, and our mothers never would have considered going to Kirkwood for groceries.

We were driving down Lindbergh when we began to hear a droning in our ears, sort of a “pull over to the curb”, which we did. A policeman came to our window. He asked where we were coming from. A house in Frontenac, we told him. And where are you going? Kirkwood. And why? To get some peanuts.

My guess was that the arresting officer had never heard of Frontenac, much less considered whether anyone would ever have left Frontenac for Kirkwood for peanuts.

He asked for our driver’s licenses. Mike gave him his. Fred gave him his, and the policeman said “thanks, Charlie”. I said, from my back seat “Charlie?), forgetting the Fred was Charles Frederick T_____’s middle name. That did it. The officer looked at me and asked for my license which didn’t exist.

What do you think happened next?

I’m not going to tell you. You better ask Mike or Fred (a/k/a Charlie).