My Passover just about passed over.

 I drank too much wine and went to bed I dunno, 1-2AM somewhere in there. I actually woke up and got up around 10, so I'm inching it back by an hour a day which is what is suggested for people who need to adjust their sleep/awake schedule. 

Adjusting my schedule is hard, but I'll keep it up. I'm missing out on temple activities, farmer's markets to busk at, anything like going to a doctor or getting a much-needed new pair of glasses. Ken can get by with a night-owl schedule because he's got his wife to do things for him during the day plus sometimes he just does get up, although I suspect he just stays up all night to make that 9AM doctor's appointment or something. 

I felt very unmotivated plus feel like shit from drinking too much wine. So that's another thing I need to work on. 

I looked at r/hawaii on Reddit and learned that Hawaii's the first state to, as a state, call for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza so Hamas can regroup and kill more Jews later. At least in the comments, most people see Hamas for the shitbirds they are, but seriously fuck that place. 

I wrote two letters I'd been thinking of writing, one to Yu-Ai-Kai to take me off of their mailing list because I hate to see them wasting stamps on sending things to me when I've not paid the dues for years and have not been doing any of the things. 

The 2nd letter was much heavier. First, I dug into my "papers" box, whoo boy do I need to go through and organize that thing. I wanted to find my DD-214 from when I was in a Reserve unit, the 442nd. Yes, *that* 442nd. I could not find that, only my later DD-214 from my time in a regular unit. But wow, did I find stuff! Tons on the paternal side of my family which I think my older sister might want, so I have solid reason to call my lawyer-in-law tomorrow, which I'd planned to anyway but now I have a much bigger reason to do so. 

But back to that 2nd letter .... I looked at the history of the 442nd and yes, it was a reserve unit at Fort DeRussy from 1969 until it was reactivated for a while to fight in the Middle East in the 90s or so, so I did not get the unit number wrong or imagine it all or something. 

The letter was to Rinban Sakamoto, saying I no longer want to be a member of the sangha as I do not agree with the BCA stance of neutrality regarding Israel and Hamas. I then elaborated on how when WWII broke out, many were neutral, some joined the US Army and thus the 442nd was formed, and some even sided with Japan. I said the price of being neutral was often being sent to a camp etc. so neutrality meant paying a price. So I respect the stance of neutrality, and likewise even respect the stance of those whose sympathies were with the home country. 

But that is not my stance, I went on. My stance is with the country that may be the home country of some of my ancestors, Israel. And that I'd joined another religious organization that shares me stance. And lastly I thanked him for the good times, good food, nice people, and said I'll miss the smell of the incense in the temple, as I did grow up in Hawaii after all. 

Somewhere in there I mentioned being in the 442nd myself, and how in recent years I'd read a lot about it and about the controversy, much less publicized, in WWII. The 442nd had taken a side and so have I. I think it's a damn good letter. I could have just sent something quick like "take me off your membership list, please." Or stopped in at the office and said, "I quit". But I wanted to say this, I wanted to make a point. 

Maybe my letter will be passed around a bit. Or maybe not. 

I no longer miss my older sister so much. When you're the hated "haole" in Hawaii you treasure every friend, but from age 18 I was always completely on my own. If I couldn't pay my rent or buy food that was my problem, because in American culture everyone's apart; everyone's on their own. My older sister was someone I could talk to, but I've found for real advice she's not really a good source. 

The last time I pal'd around with her in Hawaii, it was expensive lunched in the dining room at Neiman-Marcus, and her agonizing over whether to buy a certain $400 purse. I told her to check on their return policy, buy the damn thing, and wear it around for a day or two and if she turns not to not like it, just return it. She'd probably pay a 15% restocking fee but big whoop. 

I didn't know about the low-carb diet back then and was at her apartment and asked if she had anything to eat. She had some boneless/skinless sardines and I said that would be fine, and she snapped that I could not have them because I'd called them "Fussellian". (We'd talked about Paul Fussell's book "Class" years before.) So she'd harbored this little grudge for all those years. 

Plus she was always saying cringe-y things like "We're not a democracy, we're a republic" which just happens to not only be not true, but is a standard right-wing quip. And when I said I was reading about artists like Van Gogh and Renoir (a library is your best friend when you're young and broke) she said something like, "Those artists were all sex fiends". 

I'm just not sure we have that much in common. She's been poor, but when I last was around her in '03 she (her husband) was doing pretty well, and now they're doing great. My life, riding around on a bike and making $20k a year and saving almost half of it, would seem pretty foreign to someone who spends $600 a month on fresh cut flowers. 

But I want to tell my lawyer-in-law that he's a stand-up guy for hearing me out, that I'm probably not returning to Hawaii, and to see if I can send the big wad of papers and photos I have of our paternal line, to her. Her or my brother Alan which my lawyer-in-law surely has an address for. 

This is what Passover is about. Leaving Egypt but also leaving your own personal Egypt. If I moved to Hawaii I'd be right back in the same set of annoyances and genuine dangers I was before. There were probably those who didn't go with Moses (the majority in fact) who thought Well, it's slavery but we've been OK for 400 years here in Egypt, better the devil you know, etc. 

I packed 16 things ranging from large to small, and left at my usual time, 6. I fought the wind up there to the P.O., dropped packages off, then to FedEx, gave them a couple, then found packing stuff on the way home and got back here. Then re-configured the bike, took the trailer off and the bungee cords in the bag replaced by my big chain, and headed back out. 

I locked the bike at H Mart and the idea was to go to Sprouts and get a box of wine. I had a bit over $4.50 in change and $18 in bills. But on the walk over, I realized I ought to look in HomeGoods for some kind of serving dish or bowl or something for the chocolate  coins I'm taking to the dinner on Friday. It had to be: durable because it's going to be carried in the bike bag, cheap, attractive, big enough to hold 50 bags of chocolate coins, but not so big as to take up too much room on the table. I found one for a bit over $6 made of molded bamboo, perfect. 

Then I went to Sprouts for my box of wine, and had enough to get an onion too. I wasn't sure if I had one here at home (I did). I was checked out by the gal with constellation tattoos and my jokes like "Don't want to have an onion emergency!" got some laughs. Since I started learning on Reddit how awful some people are to checkers, I try to be as nice as I can without seeming weird. 

I got back here and had a can of herring, as I was starving (effect of the matzo brei which of course has carbs). 

It turns out there's a name for the Hamas supporters...

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hybristophilia it's why serial killers have admirers, why the Unibomber is "Uncle Ted" to so many, why horrible, horrible killers get offers of marriage, etc. 

"Western" culture is a death-culture, where sheer power and ability to destroy is admired. In such a culture, of course the Nazis and Hamas and so on will be loved by many. Right now they're worried about the remaining 1 million terrorists the IDF haven't rolled over yet, while 18-20+ million people in Sudan who just want to live, are in actual, not fabricated, danger of starving to death. 

But the starving Sudanese aren't interesting to the West, because they're regular, peaceful, people and most importantly, they're not killing Jews and have no desire to do so. 

Meanwhile, this is fuckin' excellent: https://www.timesofisrael.com/bam-kapow-when-1930s-jewish-mobsters-beat-up-nazis-in-the-streets-of-america/ 

I woke up earlier than I've been, but still not early enough. I prioritized getting a batch of things listed first, and had the idea to take this big speaker thing with a built in amp etc. apart. It was a good plan, but the thing was a bastard to get apart and it took me hours. I ended up with 12 various bits and pieces, and put the shell out for the scroungers to pick up. 

I'd started my day with green tea and nuts, but in the early afternoon I decided I'd try frying some of the gefilte fish loaf, thinking I could slice it. Actually it's soft like biscuit dough, so I melted a bunch of butter in the pan and put dollops of it in, and cooked those up, then fried a couple of eggs in the butter in case the fish didn't taste good. It did taste pretty good though. And the eggs too. 

 

Jewish Music Class Part 1

 Last night I cleaned up and shaved/trimmed/did a haircut and put on my "new" free pants which are pure win, brushed my shoes and put a clipboard/pad/pen in the bike bag and in short, got all prepared so in the morning, I figured, I'd wake up with time to make some matzoh brei for breakfast, and ride over there for the 10:00 - 11:00AM class. 

I ended up, up until 2AM at least though. The plan involved being in bed at midnight. I woke up at a bit before 10. Oops. 

So it was get up, whiz, wash face, get on the bike and go, come back to make sure the door is locked, and ride over there. I probably missed the first half of the class. It's not an important class like Adult Hebrew Reading or Intro To Judaism which if I can't do it any other way, I'll stay in a hotel down the street from the temple to make sure I get there on time. It's that important to me. 

The class was OK. It was stuff like, Here's the introduction to Leonard Bernstein's symphony and see how it closely resembles Jewish cantillation. And here's the Ashkenazi, Sephardi, Yemeni versions of this song, etc. 

Pretty soon the class was over and, looking to see if the gift shop was open (it wasn't) I saw there was a kids' thing going on with breakfast being served, and it appeared everyone had eaten, with Mr. H- still serving so I had some matzo brei and scrambled eggs. 

My next part of my plan was to go back to Mollie Stone's and get ... more Jewish stuff. I rode over to Whole Foods and locked the bike and walked over to the bus stop the #522 stops at. One was just leaving when I got there so I walked over to the train station to get some train station popcorn but the little shop was closed. Oh, well. When I got back to the bus stop I only had to wait a few minutes for the bus. 

We rattled and clanked up to Palo Alto and I thought, No problem, it's at the end of the line. Then when we got closer I realized, I think Mollie Stone's is on California Avenue not University Avenue. So I got off at California Avenue where the last sellers at the farmer's market were just breaking down their stalls and there was a big kids' putt-putt golf thing laid out. Lots of people around too. Could be a good place to busk... 

I got a frozen loaf of gefilte fish, a new type of horseradish (with a mark on it that looks like a hechser but isn't, and has dairy in it so while the label says it's great on roast beef, I can only use it on fish. Which is OK. I also got a some "soup almonds" which are supposed to be really good to snack on, which I'll find out on Wednesday when Passover's over. 

I also looked for halvah, and eventually found it - only the little bars of it and chocolate coated. Years ago, I found Joyvah halvah there in bigger blocks but ... to me, halvah's got to be that brand, marbled, and no coatings. In other words, I want the halvah of 50+ years ago. The next Friday service has a pot luck and I wanted to (a) remind people who know about halvah of their childhood and (b) if there's anyone there who's not had halvah, that needs to be fixed. But ... I could not get "the" halvah so I looked a bit more and thought ... on their "Jewish Stuff Sale Table" there were boxes of Manischewitz chocolate coins. Everyone likes chocolate coins! So I got 2 boxes, 50 bags total, of chocolate coins ... it's an expensive religion. 

I walked back down California Avenue to the bus stop again, and took the bus to University Avenue. I knew they had a CVS and I wanted another "Deep Renewal" chap stick for my chops. You can't buy one, you have to buy a package of 3 for about $8, and I paid another $10 for some Bactine which Walmart was out of. 

It was interesting to see which businesses were still there, which had moved, or changed to something else, etc. Also, lots of people out and about. I went into a little convenience store and $6 got me 2 oz. of cashews and a V8. There's nothing like a cold V8 on a hot day. 

I went into the bike store and looked around to see if there were any jackets I might want but there were not. I went into Bell's Books and bought a C.C.A.R. prayer book dated 1945, and it turns out it's the Part II and there's a Part I. Hm. Kind of like having only Part II of Maus. So I'll have to keep on the lookout for Part I. The one I have covers Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur so I guess the first one covers the other holidays. 

I walked back to the bus stop and a #522 had just arrived so it was perfect. We shook, rattled, and rolled and I got off at the Diridon stop and walked back to Whole Foods and stashed things in the bike bags, and went in and got baked chicken and a Stella.

I rode home, checking the little libraries and got a few books, and got back in here. It was windy and tree stuff was blowing around so I had to stop a couple of times to gargle with Listerine 

I got back in here and the guys next door were whooping it up with their Mexican music. I wonder how they get that "rough" sound with the trumpets? It's an interesting sound. 

Ostria

 Well I'm back. I woke up at around 8 this morning because I actually went to sleep at a normal time. Now if I can just do this tomorrow morning also... 

Yesterday I'd fought really strong wind to get packages to the post office, and went to Sprouts for various groceries and got back here and by then had 15 things listed so the day worked out well. 

Today I just read a lot. First I read the ArtScroll haggadah I have that I bought in the temple gift shop for $2. The other two, the Jewish Boston one we used, and another one, are really lightweight and the ArtScroll one goes into things a lot deeper. 

It's funny because maybe a month ago, before I thought of going to a seder at all, I'd been thinking that I'd kind of done an "escape from Egypt" in a way. My two younger sisters and I were living with our mom, mom's (useless) boyfriend, and and older lady and her daughter who had been neighbors of ours in Punaluu. Now we all lived in a large house in Waikane, large in that my room was what had been the laundry room or more like an add-on to the laundry room. My two sisters slept on a bunk bed in the actual laundry room. 

Anyway, the thing is, the way Welfare worked at the time, my mom had to work a job which would of course not pay for a house this big and food and all that, but the Welfare system would, as long as she was working and making an effort, "level her up" to be able to pay the rent and we'd have our food stamps and Mom would have some money besides. Her boyfriend was not in these calculations, being a pure leech. 

In this way a single mother with a few kids could live a nice life in a big house as long as those kids were under 18. The gov't was paying her to raise us. This was all well and fine except for a couple of things: Firstly, Waikane, about a mile south of Kualoa Ranch, had very little in the way of jobs or future prospects. The whole Windward side had hardly any jobs and those jobs would not go to us kids as we looked too white. Mom, OK. She was brown enough. And her boyfriend did at one time try working at the bakery in Hau'ula in the shopping center where Mom worked in the department store, but at least his side of the story was that he got harassed so badly he could not do it. He was a scumbag but I actually believe him. He had baking experience and probably really wanted to make a go of it. 

So, no jobs and no prospects. Also, we were nearing age 18, which meant no more gov't support. If we'd just stuck there in Waikane, the only future would be to join the Mormons, for my sisters to get knocked up and start putting out kids, "farming" them to have a living off of the government, probably supporting some apish "local" babydaddy, or work at some kind of job that's too dirty/dangerous/demeaning (and lot paid) for anyone else to do. 

The Windward Side is beautiful but you can have pretty paintings on the walls and still be in a prison. And my "art career" didn't look like it was going to save anything as you can't swing a cat without hitting an artist who's painting the same mountains and palm trees as you'd paint. 

But I had an idea. I'd heard my dad was in town, and so my youngest sister and I took off. We ran away from home. Ran away, that is, by getting on the bus. I'd told my mom's boyfriend that were were going to Coral Kingdom, the local tourist trap, so he'd now we'd be gone for a while. (We did go there fairly often, because if the right gal was working there, she'd sell us almost-spoiled hamburgers for something like 25c each. Gamiest burgers this side of the Pearl City Drive In.) 

It worked out pretty well. Dad was in town, I think we went to his aunt's place first and she called him and he came and got us. While Dad was short on the "Steady" and "Provider" parts of "Steady Provider" it was nowhere near the squalor and hopelessness of the Windward Side. Hell, my youngest sister and that daughter of the older lady who lived with us, one day they were at the bus stop and some local guys stopped and tried to abduct them. They fought them off and told us about it, and there was not much to be done. That's how Hawaii works. WFBWB. Waiting For Bus While Blonde (which both were). 

On Passover there's a lot of talk about "escaping your personal Egypt" and I suppose in a small way that's what I did. And got my 2 sisters out too. (The 2nd youngest, who we didn't think would go with the plan, was still in school that way, the school where a local kid had bashed her front teeth out with a golf club. She ended up a teenager wearing a bridge like an older person does. Again: Nothing could be done and the only repercussions would be against us if we'd made a peep.)

You'd think my going off to the Army would be leaving my personal Egypt, but joining the Army was the logical thing for tons of young people to do who don't want to become homeless. My dad said something like, "I can't guarantee you a place to live here 6 months from now" and I interpreted it as, he wanted me out in 6 months. After all, I was 18, the traditional age Americans kick their kids out to sink or swim with no further help. 

As it turned out, it didn't seem he meant that. He was just commenting on the financial instability he was always in, as a guy who'd done the stupid thing and become a computer programmer. But I thought he wanted me out, met up with an Army recruiter, told Joe Sweeny at the gas station I was working at (dirty, dangerous, demeaning...) and ol' Joe was happy for me. Then when it was time for me to go to the airport, both my father and my older sister said they'd take me, and neither one was in the house to take me so they both managed to fail. I ended up taking a taxi, and the last time I'd been in a taxi was when I was 5 and my mother called one to take me to school in since it was raining heavily, back in California. 

Since I've decided I've had enough of the political craziness and am going to stand up and be counted, I'm doing all the Jewish things I can, that fit in with my work and well, maybe even some busking once in a while.I never thought Passover would have as much personal meaning for me as it has. 

After reading the haggadah, I read the 2nd half of Eichman In Jerusalem, which is a great book. Read some of the Yiddish Folk Tales, and the book about Jewish "Tenement Songs". That last one's a banger. I figure Mom must have been doing her sister act playing the accordion on stage in the latter half of the 1940s and I wonder now if she actually did Yiddish material. She did have a book when I was a kid, called "The Joys Of Yiddish". Thanks to MAD Magazine I kind of knew what Yiddish was, but that's not a common book to find in an American non-Jewish home, especially in the 70s. 

Another interesting memory: This was at our house in Costa Mesa and I must have been 5 years old, shortly before we left for Hawaii. There was an older lady and Mom sitting at a table on our back lawn under the avocado trees. The old lady was from ... Australia? "Austria" she said. "Ostria? Like an ostrich" I concluded. She was talking about another place she was going to, I'm pretty sure. "Israel" She coached me on saying the name and I wanted to be sure to remember it so I said half to myself... "Is... real... like it is-real!" She approved of that and I chirped again, "It is real". Being only 5 I didn't know to look to see if she had a tattoo on her arm. 

Free pants: I just tried on some Nike running pants I picked up behind the gym along with a pair of shorts that look really good. The pants fit great and look good. I'll eat my hat if they didn't cost someone $75 at least. I only search their trash area for bubble wrap and boxes but ... there are perks. 

Day mode

 I actually woke up around noon, which is early for me. I've instituted a rule of "no working after midnight" and that's been a help. 

But I actually had time to find, clean, photo, and list 15 things AND packed 11 things to take to the post office. It's 5PM as I write and I can start out an hour earlier than usual to ship the things and buy some groceries etc. 

Oh no, not the precious weeds...

 I woke up around 1 in the afternoon so that's progress. Ken came by last night and I got my pay check, and we talked about things. No more talk about trying to buy a building so that's good. He talked, among other things, about a particular type of photomultiplier tube and I found a great catalog/manual about them so I sent the link to his email. I also reminded him of my idea of his wife, to save carrying a vacuum cleaner up and down the stairs, having two vacuum cleaners, an upstairs one and a downstairs one. "Oh, I forgot." So after he left I sent an email about that, too. 

If I can steer Ken toward making his house more livable for his wife and for his family in general, I can keep him off of the idea of buying a building. 

Then I made matzo ball soup from the box I'd bought at Walmart weeks ago. It was meh.

On r/hawaii on Reddit, there's a wonderful discussion that really reminds me of the place. A guy walked his dog in his neighborhood, which is full of houses with "fenced yards and mean dogs". There are what they're all calling "spiky ball things" (come on people, they're kukus) growing from the patches of grass and growing so enthusiastically that the sidewalk is blocked and the burrs are sticking to the dog's coat etc. 

So this person proposes trimming these weeds down, and then it comes down to, "Are you haole?" Because this determines whether the guy can get away with doing this good deed. The guy admits that he is, indeed, haole and that if he gets his ass kicked and weed trimmer stolen it will be his own fault. For haole'ing in a public place or some shit. 

Then at the end the conversation gets even more interesting. A guy in New Zealand pipes up and said things have gotten *really* hostile in New Zealand - not sure if anti-white anger or just anger in general. Maybe the Westons, whom I remember as being lovely people, are outliers and not representative of the kind of people I'd be around if by some miracle I was able to make my way to NZ. 

Little things like this are why I read those Reddit forums. It's little things like this that tell a lot about a place. From what I've read, I can't for the life of me imagine someone in Israel getting in trouble for trimming weeds. 

A similar experience I had years ago was when I lived in a small mobil home park in Costa Mesa. The red curb was barely red any more so I asked the manager if he had any red curb paint and he did, and I painted the curb around my place and then just kind of kept going, doing my next door neighbors' place too. They, the Butlers, who were great people and became good friends, appreciated it. 

I think the mainland has spoiled me. Going back to Hawaii would mean stepping down several rungs on the social ladder. 

I packed 8 things that needed to go out today or tomorrow, and loaded up two bags of books for the used book store. And the 8 things of course. 

I left at 3:30 instead of my usual 4, dropped off trash at one of my favorite sneaky cans, then went to the post office where I inhaled some junk from those trees we have here and had a major coughing fit, got out the Listerine and gargled and spat and sounded horrible. I went in and dropped off the packages, and came out to realize I hadn't locked the bike. Not that anyone wanted to be anywhere near there with me sounding like I was gonna cough up a lung. 

Next was the bank, deposited my check and had pleasant chit-chat, and explained the mask I was now wearing (I keep an emergency mask in the bike bag at all times) and we wished each other a good weekend. The IRS hasn't cashed my check yet so it's hard to tell if the numbers are right or not. But I saved $200 of my last pay check and am on track to save $200 of this one, and even after the IRS cashes the check my account will be north of 5 grand. 

Back in the 80s I always felt OK if I had $500 in my account, because that was 3 months' rent and a bit more. Now that $500 is $5000 I guess. Save, save, save your money. 

The bank done with, I went over to the used book store and handed my books in, and looked in the Jewish section. I found Tenement Songs, The Popular Music Of The Jewish Immigrants by Mark Slobin for $19.95 and figured I ought to get at least that in trade. I got $17-odd, and pulled a $5 out of my wallet to cover the rest. Save save save your money... I was going to use that $5 to buy soda yesterday, but used change instead. So I was able to whip out that $5 and said to the gal, "This is why I save, save, save my money".

This book looks like a good one to take along to the Jewish Music class I've signed up for, plus it probably covers the kind of music my mother might have played as an act with her younger sister, my Aunt. They played in an "Odeon" theater and played accordions. Mom didn't want to do the act any more when she began to "develop" so I'm gonna say she probably did this act in the middle-later 1940s. I'm astonished that Mom did something that cool and never told us kids.  It was my aunt, her sister, I heard about it from. 

I took the books they didn't want with me to Whole Foods where I got what was probably a prototypical old-folks'-home meal. Fish, mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a nice mild Stella Artois to wash it down with. 

After that it was off to Walmart. I spent about $60 there. I also bought a boonie hat style hat at Big-5. All they had were either Medium-Large or Large etc. They had a looser fit than I wanted, then I found one that fits good and tight and the inner lining is flowers which I don't mind a bit as I'll be the only one who sees them. 

It took some logistics to get the bike loaded and to carry the hat, I wore it. This ... was interesting. I had cars treating me with a lot less respect than normal. I think that wearing dark clothes, with a light colored hat, and on a bicycle with bags on the handlebars, they saw a "Mexican". I normally ride hatless, and at one tricky place, where Brokaw goes under the freeway, I turn my head frequently to look at the cars and they're very respectful when I do this. I've thought it's because they're seeing a human face, but now I'm thinking it's so they see that I'm white or at least one of the lighter-skinned Hispanics and thus a "good one". I took the hat off before I got very far from Walmart; who needs that crap? 

I picked up a few books on the way home and some bubble mailers at the Amazon place, so the bike was really loaded when I got back here.

Great Guns!

 I got in last night, got things ready to list today, and had wine and cheese and went to bed. 

I had the weirdest dream, it was something like, this whole crowd of people I was associated with had gone gun-crazy. People in general were suddenly interested in getting guns so the market had responded by coming up with all kinds of "user friendly" guns that these people had little to no idea how to operate properly. 

The guns were like, the way hardware stores are filled with power tools that have fancy-designed rubber grips with fluorescent color details, but are all pretty much the same drill etc. I even said to the people in the dream that "These are about as interesting to me as a power drill - boring!" as I was trying to get people to understand the concept of clearing the chamber before you consider a gun to be unloaded etc. 

If there's any meaning to it, it's that while I used to be kind of gun-crazy myself, to me, now, they're just tools. And for some reason I may have to instruct a lot of people in the handling and use of guns. 

R.I.P. Cecil Williams of Glide Memorial Church has just died. He wasn't an "American Christian" he was a real one. He was helping out AIDS victims from the beginning, when they were pariahs. But even before that, when the cops were raiding gay bars, Glide was the one church/refuge they could go to. A true holy man. 

My first Passover. And Rap Fame.

 It went great. I woke up around 1:30 or 2, thinking it was late like 4. It wasn't. I got some food and coffee in me, cleaned up, and was out the door at 4 because I have to be out the door at 4 because it rhymes. 

I had to push against the wind going downtown, but was able to get to the downtown post office at 4:30 and then take one box that I'd meant to ship by FedEx 1-day or something like that but I'd clicked on the wrong thing and it was going by UPS. So I rode down to the UPS and dropped it off, and then rode back to Whole Foods. 

I got some baked chicken  and a latke (they had latkes in the hot bar) and  got a little 4-pack of those little bottles of wine. I set up to eat at a table and people-watched. There was a Black guy who seemed to be waiting for the bus or something. Looked like he was almost certainly homeless but "together" he seemed very "squared away" kind of like Wendall the flute player. So when he passed by I held out a little bottle of wine to him and we got talking. 

He used to live in an apartment nearby and now is indeed homeless. I said if he has any musical inclinations at all, it's a good way to make money. He told me about an app called "Rap Fame" where he comes up with music and sells his songs for $5 each. He's been doing it a few months. He'd actually been waiting for a friend with a car to pick him up, who then showed up, so we didn't get to talk further about Rap Fame, but it's interesting. I don't know much about music-on-line apps, so the only one I can think of is Band Camp, but if I were musician'ing full time, I think I'd Rap Fame a try. 

After eating I killed some time by looking around in Whole Foods, then hopped on the bike and rode over to the temple. I locked the bike and got out my ol' blue and white to put on my head, and got out the two bottles of Kosher for Passover wine, and my nifty silver Kiddush cup. 

I made a name tag for myself and stuck it on and took a Haggadah and wandered around finding a place to sit. I eventually went to a table and it was "Is anyone sitting here?" and I was welcomed to sit down. I made a good choice too because some of the tables were grape juice drinkers only, plus I ended up sitting by Philip the trumpet player, and the guy on my other side is interested in learning the trumpet. 

I opened my two bottles of wine (I brought my opener with me) and had my little cup there. It turns out no one had huge cups but had very reasonably-sized glasses and so I hadn't needed to bring it, but what did I know? At least I got to tell the story of getting the cup, and the lady with a German accent right out of Central Casting who I bought it from, who was not Jewish because all she knew was it's "ceremonial". 

We dipped our parsley in salt water and poured our glasses of wine, and sang the songs and recited verses, and in general had a good ol' time. As for the wine, it was very appreciated (except for one old guy who, I tip my hat to him, went through the whole thing on the temple-supplied Manischewitz alone) and now I know the Jeunesse stuff tastes quite good, while the Elija stuff, eh, not so much. So it'll be two bottles of Jeunesse next time. 

It was great fun, especially the song about the little goat that adds things on each verse, and is sung really fast like you're rapping. 

The haggadah we used was the one put together by this temple, and as funny as it sounds, there were things in there that really meant something to me. About the situation with my sisters, and whether to retreat back to Hawaii or to go ahead. About family history I'll probably never find out for sure. 

Among other things we talked about shofar-blowing and it turns out Philip plays the trumpet but not the shofar, and their official shofar-blower does that but does not play trumpet. Since I want to get something that's more of a "professional" shofar well before Rosh Hashana, I told Philip when I do so, I'll give him the one I have now. 

The dinner itself was OK I guess. They had baked chicken but by the time I got to it, it was almost all gone so I didn't take any, just some cooked beets, half a baked potato, and some salad. It turned out there was plenty of chicken but I'd already eaten some at Whole Foods so I didn't bother about it. 

One part of the dinner was .... gefilte fish. That. Was. Horrible. It was like someone caught a tilapia out of the Ala Wai Canal, then ground it up fins guts and all, added some flour and stuff, to make a little loaf. It's comically bad. There has got to be a way to make a good-tasting gefilte fish. Traditionally, a housewife would buy a carp, live, and they'd keep it alive until it was time to kill it and cook it, and the end result was probably really delicious. 

In the end I had maybe 1/5th of the Jeunesse left and at least half of the Elijah, and I took the bottles and corked 'em up and put them, and my silver cup, in the bike bags and changed my shirt for my jacket and safety vest, and rode to Whole Foods for a couple of odds and ends, then rode for home. 

I passed through San Pedro Square and it seemed they were playing live fiddle music in the Irish bar there. I stopped to ask the security guard if it was live music, and he said "Yep, every Tuesday". We talked a bit and I gushed about how that bar, no matter how bad things got, has always been doing well. 

We also talked about Trumpet Rabbit Guy, who the guard said certainly ate his rabbits. "He lives in his van" and thus, of course he eats his rabbits. Maybe he does, but it's an odd chain of logic. I told him about my run-in with the bums down there, and he said that "Vice doesn't operate down here any more and the police only care if it's extreme violence" and said the guy I thought was an undercover officer was not. I described how one of the Streets Team guys had stuck around, sweeping the same piece of sidewalk while I played, and maybe the not-an-undercover guy was doing something like that, being protective of me. That's not impossible at all. He agreed. "There are a lot of nice people around here". He knows a lot about the history of the Irish bar and of San Pedro Square. He had to check the IDs of a lot of people so I bugged off. 

The ride home was peaceful because the wind was now going my way, and it was cool, not actually cold. I checked the little free libraries and only took a copy of The Atlantic magazine. New Yorkers are good but they seem to be weekly and it's hard to keep up. The Atlantic is better and I can keep up with them. So: a copy of The Atlantic with a red cover. 

I got home and put things away and had a better look at the copy of The Atlantic. The red cover is a list of authors, each on a different subject like Journalism, Science, etc. with page numbers. What I hadn't seen when I picked it up was on the other side of the cover it says "If Trump Wins". I wonder if, in Germany in 1932, there were periodicals like this, "If Hitler Wins"? 

They know exactly what they're doing

 Today's awful news is that Jews are being expelled, effectively, from Columbia University and other universities. The Nazis 2.0 are copying, exactly, the techniques of the Nazis 1.0. Like linking hands in a human chain to keep Jewish students from entering the university. One student was stabbed in the eye for carrying an American flag, at least at Columbia all classes have gone virtual, and Jewish students are being advised to leave the campus for their safety. 

We're only in the 20s. In Germany this didn't happen until the early 30s. 

Israel's Black Eye

 I woke up around 1:30, and turned the radio on. I hear that the attack on Israel by Hamas was predicted by many IDF soldiers, who were women, who tried and tried to warn their commanders that Hamas was planning something big. There's a "macho" culture in the IDF apparently, and the women were ignored. 

This is a case of a very bad thing, Hellenism. Hellenism is to "be like the Romans" the Romans of course being very big on the macho thing. Come on, Israel! We just celebrated Purim, which celebrates a woman saving the whole Jewish people! For shame! 

If the story's getting all the way out to US radio, I'm sure they're very seriously examining themselves in Israel. Jews got attacked for, in aggregate, acting less Jewish. 

I feel like I really beat myself up for $36 yesterday. Should have just gone up to the Campbell Whole Foods as per my original plan. I need a good hat for the sun though. Probably ought to get another "boonie hat" in a light color. 

I've been thinking about how much the world I'm in has changed in the last 10 years. In 2014, Nazism was *not* in fashion, I felt I could go and live in any state or territory of the US and be fine. I'd be fine going to any college. There was no reason at all to even contemplate leaving the US, although I think at that time I wished I'd known to leave for Europe, France particularly, as a 20-something and "wetback it" until I'd been there lone enough to become a citizen. In my 20s I could do any work, pick grapes all day or whatever. But this was simply because of France's good health care and quality of life. Now of course France is off-limits. 

Only one country, Israel, is a possibility for me if I decide to leave the US. Most of the US itself is off-limits. 

I packed big things and small things alike, in order, so none of them would go "overdue". I took a load of the big things to FedEx, dashing into H Mart for some things, and also buying some more paper at FedEx. So the $75 in my pocket changed into $47. 

I found some good packing stuff, and stopped by Tom's because the place next door often throws out whole bags of good packing foam sheet but this week there was nothing and Tom was out. 

I got back here, did some parking lot cleanup, and settled down to eat smoked salmon, hummus with za'atar, and celery. In the case of the hummus, I added some tahini and water and lemon juice and mixed well, making it a nice light, smooth, hummus. And put a liberal amount of za'atar and olive oil on top. It came out great. 

Still no word from my sisters. When I was a kid, I used to sneak into my older sister's room and borrow books. She had all the "smart" books, Huxley and Salinger and Vonnegut and so on. I am not sure she read them of her own volition or because one had to, to keep up with the elite crowd in Punahou. I read them of my own volition. 

Brave New World was the most striking. Written in the early 1930s, it described a completely "scientific" society where hedonism was the highest ideal and no one cared about each other other than on a very superficial level because no one ever had to. Also, one of the world insults one could be called if not *the* worst, was "viviparous". In other words, associating you with a biological animal, that gave birth and cared about its young. And my older sister used to call us younger kids, who were certainly not going to the hallowed Punahou, "Beasts". 

In Brave New World, no one had to deal with pregnancy or childbirth as children were "decanted" from big jars or something (hey, this was written in 1931) and no one was ugly, or fat, or lonely, or anything other than the ideal. Everything was superficial and hedonism the highest ideal. 

It all sounds sort of good, but this is fiction. It's not at all how the real world works. But I'm beginning to wonder if my older sister fully internalized that it is a work of fiction and not a description of the proper way to be? Out of the 5 of us there are no children. If we'd been raised Jewish, I'm pretty sure that the 5 of us would have found a way to raise a few kids at least, everyone pitching in. 

Somehow I think my older sister may have thought of Brave New World as a sort of manual of how to live. As for the rest, I doubt they've read it or even heard of it but I think of Brave New World as the work of a genius who saw the way American society was going. They didn't have to read it, just living in the US will assure almost anyone that the highest ideal is wealth, power, and hedonism and the best course of action to run right over anyone who stands in your way. 

Such people do *not* want to hear from what they'd consider a scolding sibling who might talk about other ways to live, might not actually care that much about money, and so on. Like the character "The savage" in Brave New World.

The fascinating life of a busker

 I had trouble getting to sleep last night and around 3AM drank enough wine and ate enough cheese to get sleepy then I was out light a light as usual. 

I woke up around 11:30 which was good. The original idea was to get over to the Campbell Whole Foods, but when  I got out on the road I thought I'd be baking in the sun there, so why not instead, go to the Sunnyvale one? I'd have the option of the parking entrance or I could busk on Murphy St. which is also pretty sheltered. 

It was by now 2. I went to Whole Foods and had a couple of chicken tenders and a samosa (those things are good!) and got a bottle of coffee. I'd planned to get a can of coffee at Nijiya but it was a mob scene so I'd gone by. I saved the coffee for the bus ride and had a little bottle of Chardonnay with my meal.

I had my chicken and samosa and then walked up to Ace Hardware as I'd remembered I wanted to get a can of Goof-Off, because I was down to a little dribble of it and I may not need it for months on end but then when I need it, I need it. 

After stashing things in the bike bag and grabbing my tip box and so on, I walked up to the bus stop that the #522 stops at, and waited the 18 minutes or so for it, and zoomed and rattled my way up to El Camino and Sunnyvale Road. I'd realized on the ride that I'd be right by Baraka Market and they'd be sure to have a spice called za'atar which the mysterious stuff put on hummus to make it taste extra good. I'd already learned last night that I can mix extra tahini into store hummus and extra water, and make it more like homemade hummus. I asked the guy at Baraka Market and they're open until 9 so I said I'll get the stuff I was looking at on the way back. (I'm sure the guy thought, "suuuuure".) 

I walked up to the Whole Foods and "my" spot was taken by a little table with a Police For Children or something going on, with a gal who was accosting anyone who even looked in her direction. Darn. So  I walked on up to Murphy St. and played a bit and made a whole dollar. 

This is fuct, I decided, I should have stayed with my home Whole Foods and/or the Old Spag. So I walked back, got a package of olives, an ice-cold yogurt drink which I assured the guy is "Like heaven!!" and a 17-oz jar of "Authentic Levant" za'atar, product of Jorden which considering how they helped Israel out recently, I'm counting as one for the team. I could not find a smaller package of za'atar. I guess it's like rice, in Hawaii when I was a kid, where if you bought rice, of course you were buying a 25-lb bag. It was weird to buy smaller amounts. 

I walked back out to the bus and rattled and zoomed back to the Diridon stop, drinking the coffee a bit at each stop. I went to Whole Foods and stashed things away and set up to play to test the waters. It was earlier than I'm usual there, a quarter to 6, and although a bit windy maybe it would go well. 

It did not. I made ... another dollar. That dollar came from the shirtless guy with chin-pubes that for some reason he'd dyed bright red. I went inside and got some cheese and stuff, and although I might as well have stayed, I left for ... 

The Old Spag. Loud Band (or Loud Canned Music) was playing but I pointed myself the other way and thought it might go fairly well. I made a few dollars and Blueberry Hill got me a $5, but it was slow going. And a bum came up and got in my face because I'd not give him money or something and literally he made physical contact and I had to push him away and he backed off when he saw I was getting my phone out, started to come back for more, then backed off again as I fumbled around with dialing 911. Another bum, dragging a skateboard on a string, came in for some hassling too and I probably said something about calling the cops and he moved on. 

I finally did get in contact with 911, gave the gal descriptions of both of the bums. and pointed out that they're not just hassling me, they're hassling everyone. The first bum came back but passed by, as I was still on the phone with 911. I said I'd be there for another hour, that I'm happy to talk with the cops but the most important thing is, the reason people are not going out and about there is the bums hassling them, even threatening violence. The artists, the musicians, etc. are afraid to go down there any more. 

What happened is: Although shaken, I kept playing, not for another hour but at least another half-hour. The bums didn't come back. A guy wearing a safety vest, looking like nothing special, rode up on a bike just past me then parked himself at the curb, still stride the bike, and stayed there all the time I kept playing. The crowd thinned out, but I had some lovely interactions with people, the highlight of the evening being a family with a little kid, who they had put $1 in the box twice. It was wonderful. They had a great time. And another lady with a little kid who was dancing to Saints, and who I advised to get a one-on-one teacher, start him with a cornet which is shorter and easier for a kid, etc. Maybe I inspired the next Chris Botti... 

In the end, I had $15 in bills and another $1.11 in change. But there's something else I guess I have to count. In the checkout at Whole Foods, the lady behind me had gotten into some kind of conversation with Kenny, who was the checker. She was saying Kenny must be from Hawaii (he's not) and Kenny was saying I am, so she was saying I'm a "local" and I pointed out that being the hated haole, I could never be "local" no matter how many generations there, and she (half-Japanese I surmise) said something like "Oh, yeah, that's what my haole friends used to say, always being beat up". Outside, she asked if she could tip me, and I said, "Sure, if you like". She said, a bit haughtily, "I'm a middle-aged lady who lives comfortably because I work hard". I said, "A lot of people work hard and still live uncomfortably". The tip was a $20. I said thanks or something and muttered as she turned away, "Thanks for the reparations, lady". 

I will never be a local. That's the truth in Hawaii. At most you can be a "local haole" or you can be wealthy enough to be able to insulate yourself from the vast majority of the population. That's how my older sister lives. Being a "local haole" is yet another case of having to have a justification for living there, being there, existing. My older sister is a local haole, I guess, but what far overshadows that is that She Went To Punahou. She lives in an expensive neighborhood (they all are there, but some are even more so) drives everywhere, and has probably become even more insular over the last 20+ years. 

So, finally done at the Old Spag, I packed up and circled by the guy who was still stock-still at the curb, mounted on his bike, and said a sotto voce "Thanks" as I circled by, then circled around and left. If the guy was an undercover, I thanked him and he gets it. If not, if just some random guy, then it's just some random thing that's no harm. B'god what a zoo down there though. There was another bum that thankfully I didn't interact with, who seemed to have lots of metal spoons and such things hanging off of him. Build the asylums already, Mr. Biden! 

I rode back through Japantown which was still full of wonderful cooking smells, then went to TAK Market. It was that or a trip to Sprouts. I bought 4 bottles of "Barefoot" wine but even going there was not without complications. I got there just as a bum with a huge shopping cart load of bottles and cans (and just clap your hands) and I moved past the bum to take the lights off the bike and lock it to a post there, and as I locked the bike and kept my eye on the bum, the bum said something that could have been "Do you have a $5?" but could have been a number of other things. Zombie brain worms really fuck with intelligible speech. I just stared at the thing for a long time until it wised up and looked away. Then continued to loiter in front of the building until the bum was well up the street because it'd be easy to circle around and rummage my bike so I wanted to wait until it was down the street and looking forward to the next trash can. 

I got my wine (I'd gone there because I thought I'd seen those Franzia boxes of wine but what I'd seen was merely boxes that hold bottles, no space bag wine) so fuggit hence 4 bottles of Barefoot. 

I suppose I'll call the $20 a tip because I have no other way to categorize it. So it's $36.11 for maybe an hour and a half of playing. I probably should have just gone to the Campbell Whole Foods after all because I got the same amount of sun anyway. But it's nice I was able to visit the Baraka Market. There's a potluck coming up at the temple and Baraka's *does* have halva, the trouble for me is, I'm not sure if it's the "right" kind. Ideally I want to bring those oily little Joyva brand halva bars that at least to some people will bring back strong memories of childhood. Even the large Joyva block isn't the same. It has to be the little bars. That means going to Mollie Stone's again, but the next time I'll take the #522 bus there and probably busk a bit in the park then go to Mollie's for my halvah and maybe some other Jewish things, then I might take the train back. 

I rode back here and the guys next door had loud Mexican music playing, having a good relaxing weekend. After putting some things away I got the trumpet out (they'd turned the music off by then because they were getting ready to go home) I played some riffs of not one particular song but what the music sounds like, improvising I guess. It was surprisingly easy and came out surprisingly well and they said, "Beautiful!". 

I have not heard from either of my sisters. Since I made that phone call the strong emotions I'd felt have dissipated. I don't care to be come a right-wing Trump voting Jeezuz freakie with the younger one so she seems to be set so that any communication from me that isn't "Lawd jeebus I'se sayved!" is "hate" so the book I wanted to send to her will just go into the next batch to the used book store. And I don't think my older sister can handle the concept of someone being smart and yet not having pots of money and Not Having Gone To Punahou. They say people shift to the Right the older they get, but really they shift to the Right the richer they get. And my older sister married well in that she married into money. That's what matters: money. And money grows more money and so on. She might be a Trump voter by now too. Because older does not mean smarter and richer really does not mean smarter. Money makes one dumber because you can just throw money at any problem and never have to think much. 

They are all living their Best American Lives where everyone's apart, no one helps anyone, they'll probably never know - or care - when the others die or if they die. Who cares. Fuck you, I've got mine. This savage way of life actually kind of works when you've got a continent to conquer, natives to kill off, slaves to rule, and tons of resources; animal, vegetable, mineral, for the taking to anyone who gloms onto them first. 

It is the very opposite of the proper way to live in a steady-state economy, the one humans have lived in since there have been humans. Even the old empires of the Middle-East were far closer to steady-state than anything we live in now. The really old cultures, Chinese and Jewish, are big on memory, education, mutual aid, family, networks, doing what you can for the group. It's anathema to Americans, AKA Iks Who Drive Cars. 

Now, why my busking income has been so bad lately, I can only theorize. It may have been unnaturally high a few weeks ago because the W-2 types have been getting their returns. But there may be enough of us now who are 1099's and have to send money out by April 15th, to make a difference. 

Or I suck. I *do* sport the astronaut haircut lately, but sadly, I've not learned Eentsy-Weentsy Spider. 

"And each has his plug, and each had his socket" - Stanislaw Lem, "The Steelypips".  I am glad I did that phone call to my "lawyer in law" even as I'm sad he had to put up with it. All emotion is gone. And as the original deadline, that of my birthday later this year, to move back to Hawaii approached, I suddenly began thinking realistically about the place. It's the simple truth that someone with brown skin and no links to Hawaii at all, like half-German half-Filipino Andy Bumatai, can step off the plane in Honolulu and 100X more welcome than someone who is 5th generation (they exist!) in Hawaii but are pale skinned. Hawaii is very much part of the US where race is all. 

Right now Jewish students at Columbia University (and pretty much all the rest of them except for a few like Brandeis) are being hassled and threatened and stopped from walking across the quad as it were. I remember being stopped by a crazy lady on the University of Hawaii Manoa campus and harangued for being white. And like the students at Columbia, there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it - to raise a peep would have gotten me expelled. In fact in what college career I had, near the end of it I said some slight thing about the unfair treatment I'd gotten for being "haole" and was put on suspension for a while. Dean's List to suspension for being the wrong color. 

It goes back further. One day back when we were middle-class and lived on Portlock Road, I was walking back from the beach with my mother. One of the kids who lived next door to us had made a little bow and arrow and marched right up to us and attempted to shoot out my "good", right, eye. From a distance of a foot or two. Just like a cruel kid might shoot out the eye of a stray dog. Luckily I flinched and the arrow, a piece of hau wood, hit my cheek instead and I got a scrape instead of a destroyed eyeball. And there was nothing that could be done. If my mom had said much, she could have ended up fined or in jail. 

And yet, bringing things back up to college again, a gal I befriended tried to integrate me into her circle of fellow-haole friends, and I overheard them talking about me - whether I could belong in their group - in the other room. Could I really be a haole? I was kind of dark for a haole ... (skeptically). In the end I did not gain "membership" and I probably dodged a bullet there.

I am literally too white for Hawaii and not quite white enough for actual white people. 

Yet I can go to the Jewish temple and I'm accepted as a matter of course. Being not-quite-white is a sweet spot if you're Jewish. I haven't had to explain myself to anybody. I could go to Israel and not have to explain myself to anybody.

April 20th havdalah

 Well, I got through OK. I woke up around noon on Friday and after coffee and nuts and so on, I had an hour to prepare things to list later, an hour to pack packages to take to the post office downtown, and an hour to make myself clean and ready and oil my bike chain so even my bike will will enjoy the Shabbos. 

It all went fine except when I was oiling the bike chain, although the sprocket is specifically designed to not have the chain fall off, it fell off.  I cussed a bit and flipped the bike which is heavy with its saddlebags full of stuff, cleaned and oiled the chain after putting it back on the sprocket, and that was done. 

I left here at the regulation time and toodled over to the post office and dropped the packages off, then to the bank where my accounting and theirs probably add up, I won't know until the $3300-odd check is cashed by the IRS. 

Then over to Whole Foods for some baked chicken and broccoli and a bit of long-grain rice to soak up the chicken oil - yum! Before Whole Foods I'd ridden up to Cahill Park to see if they have exercise equipment and they do. It's really nice in fact and handy to know because I go to Whole Foods so often, that I can go over to Cahill Park and do some exercises first and then eat etc. 

Pretty soon it was time to go over to the temple. There was a big crowd, for two reasons: The shabbat before Passover is typically a big one "ha Godolah" and also it was a 25-year celebration of the rabbi being there. So it was a real hum-dinger. 

I ended up sitting next to the sound guy, who was using a tablet to control the audio for, not really a band but a couple of guitars (lead and rhythm) and a couple of vocals, a bass, and a lady playing the flute who's really good. I still need glasses, but at least I try to la-la-la along with the songs to get to know the tunes and eventually the words, by sheer osmosis.

When the service was over, I asked the sound guy if he still wanted the ferrites, and he did so I went out to the bike and got them, and handed over the bag. He was pleasantly surprised, and I said, "I said I would bring them". 

Then it was time for bread and wine and the blessings thereof, which I'll have to make myself little cards for. And when that was done, champagne. The food was really good, and passing up on the chicken skewers, I had a lot of Brie and little savory swirly things and fish and cheese roll-up things, and at the end, black coffee as my usual. I ended up sitting with some people who run the music program, so I was able to get some good schmoozing in. 

I have to smile - it's all so great. I thought I might have this with MENSA meetings but except for a smart one or two they made me want to shout "NERDS!". And MENSA people are as hyper-individualistic as any other Americans. And Americans are basically Iks who drive cars. 

It's nice to be around so many people who are smart *and* not there to show how smart they are, and who are achievers but do tons of social-service things and are generous. And who care about their kids instead of complaining about them. 

At the gift shop this week's buy was the book "The Six Days Of Destruction" by Wiesel and Friedlander. It's a quick read, and because it turned out to be published by the Paulist Press and have a bunch of stuff about Christians and Jews getting along, I emailed my youngest sister to ask if she'd like me to send it to her. Otherwise it will go into my next batch of books to trade in at the used book store, as I don't want any Christian stuff around here. 

By the time I rode home it was 9:30 or so, almost 10 when I left Whole Foods, and a bit past 10 when  I got home. I was glad to have thought to wear my safety vest because Friday night = impaired drivers around here and sure enough I had to go around a gathering of cop cars where 10th butts into Old Bayshore. 

I got back and was too full of brie to feel hungry, so I had wine and read the "Six Days" book and "The Holocaust Industry" by Finkelstein. His basic point seems to be that media footprint of the Holocaust was smaller when Israel was actually in more danger, than after 1967 war, which Israel won and afterward was in less danger. 

Well I have an answer to Mr. Finkelstein. It may not be a satisfying one, but it is one based on reality. When Russia started out to invade Ukraine, lots of people including myself thought Ukraine would fold in  no time, that "Who cares if Russia invades part of Russia?" That very few Ukrainians were actually against Russia moving in, and so on. 

Then Ukraine fought back. Grandmothers were making Molotov cocktails and telling the Russians to make sure there are sunflower seeds in their pockets so when they die something will grow. Zelensky wasn't assassinated, and Ukraine has been fighting valiantly ever since. That's when support for Ukraine, at least among sane people, blossomed. After Ukrainians showed they could and would fight. 

It may be that Nazis only respect force, but that is my answer to Mr. Finkelstein. That the rest of us only do, too. The Holocaust was not publicized far more after Israel fought back because of crass  profiteering and hucksterism, but because in the minds of many, Israel had been written off. When Israel proved to be a formidable force, now we were interested in them and sympathetic to their cause. 

This is basic schoolyard psychology. If a kid is bullied and just takes it, no one's going to take up for them. But if they fight, even if they lose, they gain respect, and friends. 

Another day of craziness

 Still no word from my older sister. I woke up a bit before noon, maybe 11, and lay in bed thinking about the situation. When I was a young adult out on my own in Hawaii, I could talk with her, and hang out with her a bit in her small jewelry shop at the top of Kapahulu Avenue, but if I'd suddenly become homeless or broke a leg or something I'm not sure if she would have helped. 

I wonder if in her older years now she's become like my Aunt Mary, really my father's aunt, who would not help any of us because she'd given money to my older brother for something, and he'd spent it on a bicycle instead. A bicycle! A meaningless thing, it was a few hundred bucks, and maybe the bicycle did more for him than the junior college class or whatever it was, and he went off and joined the Navy anyway. 

Ol' Aunt Mary, as my father said, never had anything good to say about anyone. She gave me $500 but there was no message on what I was supposed to use it for, or whether it had to be paid back. You could live for a month on that quite well. I was making around $350 a month. When my pay inched up a bit, I gave the $500 back. 

Later, in the late 80s, one of my younger sisters wanted to move from Hawaii to the mainland, so my older sister bought a plane ticket for her; it was around $200. And the younger sister backed out. My older sister was extremely angered by this. As in, Never Help Any Family Ever Again angry. Over $200, which even back then was some money but not *that* much money. 

It's a culture of endless tit-for-tat, resentments that are cherished and savored for decades on end. This is pure American culture. And since I've not made bags of money, I'm certainly not going to American Heaven. 

Knowing and working for Ken has been a revelation. He doesn't nurse resentments like that, and the first time visiting his house and meeting his family and watching them interact, on my ride back with Ken, I said, "They don't fight over anything, not even food". And they really don't. Thus the difference between Catholics and Calvinists. 

With my older sister I may have committed the unforgivable anyway: Being smarter than she is and not hiding it. The guy who owned the place I lived on in Gilroy was OK with everyone as long as it was understood that he was the coolest, the smartest, the most able, etc. I made the mistake of mentioning how I'd taken the Mensa test when I was a hungry 18 year old because a neighbor paid the $10 fee for me and I thought it would help me get a job somehow. I'd passed, and he hadn't when he'd taken it, a few times. 

This opened a rift between us that now that I think about it, is about the time he started accusing me of the weirdest things like pulling up all of these or those plants in the garden, feeding rhubarb leaves to the sheep, etc. I'd broken a cardinal rule: No One Is Smarter Than Him. 

As for the craziness: A guy lit himself on fire and his manifesto is online. The surprising thing is it's not a right-wing one or a pro-Hamas one. It seems to criticize capitalism and our oligarchy themselves and is actually fairly sensible except for one glaring fact: No one's that much in charge or able to make things run that smoothly. Conspiracy theories contain a nugget of reassurance, in the idea that someone really is in charge. The scary reality is that no one is. 

 

It may be just it.

 I followed my new rule of "no work after midnight" and watched youtube, had some cucumbers and cheese, watched YouTube, practiced my shofar a bit, and drank wine, but less than the night before. 

I've tapered my drink during the day from 1/3 wine and the rest water and Coke Zero, to 50ml wine and the rest water and Coke Zero, to about 2 tablespoons of wine with 100ml if Coke Zero and the rest water. 

I got into mixing wine with Coke from hearing a while back that half and half wine and cola is a thing in S. America. It's got a pretty good taste. 

I felt a lot steadier when I woke up and did a bunch of exercises too. 

On the shofar practice, I'm really making progress. I want to get a larger, more "professional" shofar and be practiced up for Rosh Hashana in October, and this small one, being hard to play than a large one, is great to practice on. 

I've not heard back from my older sister so far, although I think it's perfectly reasonable for her to wait a week or so before sending a letter or an email. And in the case of a letter it can take a week to come, so that stretches it out to 2 weeks. If there's nothing after 2 weeks, then  I think I'll call Tom once more and thank him for being a stand-up guy, and say that I won't bother them further. 

The thing is, my older sister is actually not as smart as she thinks she is. That comes from being a bit of a hothouse flower. And she doesn't like being "outdone" which to her, means a person has looked more deeply into a thing that she's pronounced something on. An example is, she at least used to subscribe to a magazine called the Utne Reader. I'd mentioned that The Nation is more like the real Left (I'd found the old Utne to be painfully middle-class) and she said something like, everything she did I felt compelled to do better. In other words, any challenge to her views on things is taken as an attack. I don't know how she's handle my telling her that her go-to "I am very smart "phrase, "We're not a democracy, we're a republic" is not only untrue but is a major Right talking point. In other words, we may have grown apart. 

But at least I've tried and feel better that I've tried. 

I pad time to pack 15 things and took them to FedEx and the post office, found plenty of packing material on the way back, came back and unloaded the bike and then went back out again to Sprouts for nice foods for the weekend so I don't have to worry about that tomorrow. 

Since I'd gotten some freebee fresh shiitake mushrooms behind H Mart, I had beef soup with onion, garlic, and shiitake mushrooms. It was pretty good. 

Tough Shit, Mr. Berliner

 I woke up a bit after 1, and when I turned the radio on, eventually the story came around about a certain Mr. Berliner who was "senior business editor" at NPR, resigned after writing a nasty essay about NPR on another platform - this last a breach of the ethics agreement you have to follow when you become employed by NPR. 

The piece isn't fact-checked, NPR wasn't allowed to respond, and a lot of it is pure right-wing hyperbole. Berliner accuses NPR of "liberal bias". Hello you fucking idiot, it's NPR. What do you expect? That's what they do. They're the one media outlet, just about, that stands against the rest of 'em ranging from secretly wanting to be Der Sturmer, to actually being Der Sturmer. 

This is the same pattern, 1920s Germany or 2020s USA, the fascists will attack center/left media saying they're not being "fair" by not broadcasting *their* worldview. The most extreme case of this sort of thing was a few years ago when a school teacher somewhere in our Godforsaken flyover country was teaching Nazi ideology to be "fair" in teaching about the Holocaust. 

Mr. Berliner probably thinks we still have the "fairness doctrine" we had up into the early 80s or so. Media outlets were required to air both sides, and could be taken off the air if they did not do so. This fairness doctrine is considered to be the reason we were able to get anti-smoking education out there, and hence why we're not smoking like chimneys now. One the fairness doctrine was done away with, we got Rush Limbaugh and all the rest of that crap. 

I'm tapering off of wine, so I'm weaning myself on a mixture of wine, Coke Zero, and water. Out of 300ml of that, 50ml is wine. It doesn't taste as awful as it sounds, really. And I drank less wine last night, resulting in a weird dream and actually waking up earlier than I might have, and not having a bone-dry mouth. 

(One good thing about this recent wine-dependence: I was drinking a lot of coffee. Like, a LOT of coffee. Too much coffee, man. 4 cups a day, often more like 6. Getting on wine made me only want one cup when I get up, and I intend to keep it that way.)

And I did my taxes. Last night I'd printed out all the forms I needed, in duplicate because it's easier for me to write out two copies, one to keep and one to send to the IRS, then to take forms to Kinko's to photocopy. And I did some organizing off odd papers that were floating around in my "TAXES" box, so I feel better about the orderliness of things in there. 

There's really only a bit of tricky math. I'd say the best sequence is to do schedule C, profit and loss, then do the SE which is the self-employment tax, fill in things on schedules 1 and 2 because they're needed, then do the actual 1040 where some more tricky calculations are done, and then before you know it you're done. My actual "income tax" is something like $350. My self-employment tax is around $2700 though, because I'm paying into things like Medicare and Social Security. Things a regular employee would never even think about. They'd just do their taxes using a 1040EZ and get a refund. 

I'm a couple days late too, which I'll probably get a bill for, but it's still cheaper than paying a preparer by far. If I could find one. I just wrote out my check for $3300 or so and shrug and think, "Eh, it's only money!". 

Once I was done and had my tax papers and check all together in an envelope, I had time to vacuum and clean around here because Ken's been coming an hour or two earlier lately. I rode up to the post office and mailed it, then rode back to H Mart. It was about a quarter to 7 and I looked in the hot case to see if there was anything worth wandering around the store for 15 minutes to buy 2-for-1 or half price. There wasn't. 

So I went to Ono Hawaiian Barbecue or as I call it, Oh No! Hawaiian Barbecue. And spent just short of $20  on a kal bi plate. Interestingly, the card reader they had was an unfamiliar type to me, and the gal said to just tap it, so I held it against the little symbol and it worked. I said, "I didn't know my card could tap."

I took my food and rode home, stopping by the EMT training place where I picked up some useful zipper bags and a lot of OTC medications and alcohol wipes and such things, that I just shook out of their boxes into a Whole Foods cloth bag. I also got a bunch of the decongestant pills Ken and Suzy use, they're always happy to get those because they're expensive. 

A rabbi and a lawyer...

 I ate a late meal at midnight last night then tried to drink enough wine to make myself sleepy to go to bed early enough to get up early, and do my taxes. At least I practiced a few pages in my Reading Hebrew book and practiced a bit on the shofar. It's too small to be a "serious" shofar, and I'd like to get a nicer one, but this one is good for now and good for practicing on because it's trickier than a longer one.

Instead, I woke up around 11 or 11:30, feeling awful, and around 1:30 so 11:30 Hawaii time, I called my brother in law, the lawyer. He's got a very impressive web page and two assistants so he must be doing pretty well. I talked to him because, unlike my older sister, I have his number and he'll talk to me. I managed to convey that I want to be in communication with her again, that my cutting her off feels like I'd cut off one of my limbs, that we're not getting any younger and anything could happen to either one of us. He took down my phone number and email address and I gave him the address of the shop because letters get here just fine. It'll be up to her if she wants to get back in contact. 

By this time it was getting close to the time the rabbi was scheduled to call me, and he did. We talked about where I was born, and where I grew up, and family, and schools and all kinds of things. It's amazing how much we fit into that call. I'm glad we got this talk in, because a lot of it was things you can't talk about in casual small talk like when be bump into each other on Friday night, and the result is that he knows a lot more about me now, and I know that we were born in places maybe 20 miles apart at most. Maybe even in the same hospital - I'll have to ask him sometime. So I am "in", welcome with open arms. 

I've been Doing The Things(tm) which is pretty much how conversion works. In Reform Judaism you have to take classes too, but it turns out all the classes are on Tuesday evenings. And the classes don't start until around October. Meanwhile, I'll do the Friday night services, and I'm signed up for the Jewish music appreciation class that's coming up. 

That phone call to my brother in law was hard to get myself to do. Last night I watched "N Is A Number" about Paul Erdos and as always it made me sad and it motivated me to make that phone call. I am sick of being out of communication with my older sister. The rest of my siblings I don't care about, as I don't think we have any interested or viewpoints in common. But my older sister and I were close as adults. I'm going to assume she'll wait a week or so to think about it before communicating, if she does. 

My other Hawaii friends are kind of duds. Dave's a wingnut, Pat's nice enough but pretty much useless, and my ham radio/tech friend is pretty old and probably only interested in making radio contacts - I think he's a co-owner of a huge ham radio "antenna farm" that's not far from one of my childhood homes and the callsign of which was close to the callsign I had in Hawaii, with the result that I'd get some of their QSL cards sent to me. 

If I end up going back to Hawaii, I will go through my conversion process here first.

I swear all religions are the same.

 Welp, I've been a member of the Buddhist temple, am attending things at the Jewish temple now, and of course we all know how Christians are big in getting up early, morning services, etc. I swear it's a plot they're all in it together, to make you have to be up before noon on a Sunday!

In the cast of the Jewish temple, Sunday's a regular day as the Sabbath is Friday night to Saturday night. But classes, like the one I went to yesterday, are often on Sunday and start at 10AM or sometimes even 9 I think. 

There's just no winning here. Following any system of belief is going to involve getting up in the actual morning. Ugh! 

More seriously, though, I realized something today, thinking about this. Buddhism, even the more "liberal" Pure Land Buddhism, is all about getting through this life and hopefully when you die you go to the Pure Land. Christianity is well-known for being all about just getting through this life, maybe even imposing suffering on oneself (Theravada Buddhism does this also) to better "cash in" when you die and presumably go to Heaven. 

Judaism, for all the talk about Moschiach/Messiah and the "world to come", is concerned with the here-and-now. You create a little bit of heaven when you observe Shabbat, when you do good deeds, when you study the Torah. And these things are done together, with other people. Socialization is required. 

In Buddhism, I got the feeling you're still on your own whether you merit going to the Pure Land. They're pretty social, but it still felt rather atomized. In Christianity and especially Protestant Christianity, it's hyper-individualistic. Everyone's really on their own. The US being a largely Protestant Christian nation, we have such delightful practices as kicking your kids out by age 18, spending your kids' college money on cruises, and the whole "Fuck you, I've got mine" American ethos. Because it's up to you and you alone whether you go to Heaven, suffering is good for you, this life is nothing compared to the afterlife, etc. 

This is not to say there's not individualism in Judaism, there certainly is. But Judaism seems to have arrived over their thousands of years at the same questions and conclusions I have. The biggest one, the current saying, "We live in a society". One of the reasons I got interested in Judaism again is I reasoned that it's a religion of people who have been civilized, that is, living in cities with the modern idea of work, and money, and so on, all the modern stressors. And they've found a way to deal with it - the biggie being having a day off a week. 

I've been loving my pale imitation of a Shabbos, staying off the damn computer and reading books - how I'd missed reading books. Not fussing around with cooking, eating rather nice food I've bought/prepared ahead of time. 

I'd concluded years ago that if I were the average working slob in this horrible society and economy, the only way I'd stay sane would be to join a religion because then I'd have a rationale and gov't recognized right to my holidays and time off. For simple sanity reasons Catholicism would probably be best because it's a large group around here, plenty of churches, recognized holidays, and it's the least crazy branch of Christianity. Still crazy, just the least so. 

There ain't no way I'm gonna be a Christian, but that was my thinking. 

Judaism has weird holidays no one else understands, but it does have 'em, and they are gov't protected so as a working slob punching a time clock I'd be OK. And I'd always be up for working on Sundays and Christmas day and so on. 

Fortunately I have a very flexible schedule here as long as I get the work done and keep the numbers good. 

If I make it to Israel, even in Tel Aviv, it's very easy to live Jewishly, as they say. Shabbos time off is the norm, all the holidays are the norm. Other than the current weather which includes rockets, I've been looking much more closely at the place and it's basically L.A. The latitude, the weather, etc. Like Hawaii it's an expensive place but not as expensive as here, and in a ton of ways it's better like they have real public transit. 

At the class yesterday, we started off by standing up and saying a little blurb about ourselves, and I was last. I said "I'm Schroedinger's Jew" and elaborated, saying Lithuania being the black hole of information it is, and everyone concerned being dead, I may be halachically Jewish, or may not. I don't know. "So I'll have to make like Uncle Ben's Rice and be converted". 

I think it was a pretty good blurb, but what I hadn't noticed was, on the other side of Mr. H- who I was next to, was the Rabbi Himself. I don't think I offended him or anyone, but that blurb covers most of what the phone call the Rabbit is supposed to make to me tomorrow. Maybe that's good, because now his mind is primed with very basically what I'm about and why I've been coming around. 

As for DNA tests, I don't know what to think. I took that one in 2016 but I'm not sure how good a sample it was, or how developed the tech was 8 years ago. I'm going to take another one from another company and keep trying to sort out my genealogy because if it turns out I *am* actually halachically Jewish, it means my siblings are too and that's 5 of us for the price of one. I don't know how crazy things are going to get and it may be important information to know. 

I wanted to get the packing all done before starting on my taxes, and that plus general depression and ennui meant ... I eventually got the packing done at almost midnight. Taxes tomorrow and I'll just be a day late I guess. 

A funny thing though: The reason I was in such a hurry to buy candle holders and a Kiddush cup was, I thought the Passover thing I'm going to is this Tuesday. I got the rows on my calendar mixed up, it's next Tuesday. 

 

 

Start your day with a time trial

 Last night I .... are some dinner and did some Ebay stuff - mainly making deals etc. which keeps the numbers good - and practiced a bit and then practiced my little shofar a bit, and watched Youtube and drank wine. And washed my hair and made sure my shoes were shined and little things like that, just in case I had to dash out the door when I got up. 

I had to be at the temple at 10. I woke up at 9:40. I essentially had to do a time-trial, took the shortest route which is 10th to Hedding and over the hill, turning just one street short of the Alameda. Then lock the bike up and find the class. In the end I was maybe 5 minutes late. 

The class was "Preparing for Passover" and it was pretty interesting. We had some charoset, which was kind of meh, and matzo ball soup which was excellent. Then we all went into the kitchen and made these things. There was much discussion of the various types of matza, what things are forbidden on Passover by Ashkenazim and Sefardim, much discussion of haddadot (Rabbi has a big stack of 'em) and we each got handouts like a printed out JewishBoston haggadah so I'm already started on my collection as I have the ArtScroll one I got for $2 in the gift shop. 

All in all it was pretty great, and Mr. H- who made the matzo ball soup, gave me an extra bowl of it because I liked it so much. 

After all that I found the guy running the public service thing where it's something like Abramic Alliance getting together and assembling hygiene kits to hand out to homeless people, and I told them I have 126 bottles of Purell hand sanitizer I could donate, and he said the kits are going into sandwich bags and I said the bottles are probably a little bit too big. So, no problem, I can donate them somewhere else. 

After all that, I went to Whole Foods and got some chicken and zucchini and one of those little 4-packs of wine so I could have wine with my meal, and relaxed a bit. Then, I had a plan. Shopping! 

I went to the Recycle Book Store and got two books, and with the trade credit I had, only had to pay $3-odd more in cash. Then I went to the bike shop to see if they had any good jackets which they did not, but at least I looked. 

Then I rode down to San Carlos and went to the Goodwill where I found a pale yellow rain jacket that actually has an intact lining - in fact it looks new - so that ups my foul-weather gear game. That was $22. 

Then it was on to Antique Row. I found a pair of candle holders "Lossell Kristall Handschliff" basically the same kind of lead-crystal prism-y things my dad used to be into, but in the form of candle holders. Those were $24 and I just checked, they're $35 on Ebay so I did all right on those. 

They kept the candle holders by the register for me while I hunted for the other thing. I wanted a kiddush cup. On Passover, you're supposed to drink 4 cups of wine. Well, the kiddush cups in the gift shop at the temple are made to hold a lot more wine than I'd want to deal with. If I could find a nice, acceptable, cup/glass to use, then I'd be really happy. 

I hunted and hunted around the store, and in the end I actually found one and the lady whose booth it was in was there. She had the perfect German accent, right out of Central Casting, to be Sheba, the She-Wolf of the SS or some damn thing. Well, she wanted $175 for the little cup that I thought was pewter at first, but is sterling. I said I had the budget for $50 and she wasn't having that. So I said I'll keep looking. 

I looked in the next couple of stores, and also had time to think. If I got that sterling cup, it'd be one and done because it's the real McCoy; it's an actual kiddush cup. And not plated, not pewter, but sterling silver which is as traditional and proper as you get in the area of kiddush cups. I counted my money and figured I'd make an offer of $100. 

So I went back and found the lady again and said I could offer $100 and I'm probably overpaying but it's my first Passover and so it's important to me, and she said she'll do it. So I got it for a flat $100 out the door. All she seemed to know is, it's "ceremonial". 

I checked Crossroads for shoes and they had one pair of Doc Martens that are my size but are boots not shoes, and one pair that are a size too big. Two close misses means if I keep checking them, I should find what I need fairly soon. 

I headed back to Whole Foods and on the way, it had dried out enough that the tree stuff was in the air again and I had to stop and cough and hack and gag and gargle some Listerine. Two nice Black ladies passing by were concerned and I said I'm OK, it's the trees etc., and as they walked on they wished me well. I wished them well too and said it's a beautiful day for a walk. 

I got back to Whole Foods and got a couple samosas because their samosas are really good, and drank a little wine with them because that really helps my throat. Then rode for home, stopping at the park for some chin-ups and exercises. 

I got back here and put things away and did some checking on the kiddush cup. I did all right indeed as I paid what is the "melt" value of the silver. And it's not one that just pops up online. It could have been made in 2020 or 1920 for all I know. I wonder how this cup could have ended up in that antique store, and ultimately into my hands? The She-Wolf said she's got another that's different that she'll put in her booth, and I'm not sure why I'd need another but it's something to know.

The antique store was interesting anyway. Everyone working in there was white and old as the hills. The buyers besides myself seemed to be Asian and younger than myself. Things that might seem boring to me might be really cool or interesting to them. 

After I got back here and put things away and rested a little, I was off again to H Mart where I locked the bike, and I walked the long way around to Sprouts because on the corner I'd have to pass, were 3 police cars and a bum going off on some kind of wingding, saying he'll take all the cops on and such things. But by the time I walked around the cops and the bum were gone and it was like it never happened. 

I went to Ross first, and bought a pair of pants. Then went to Sprouts for cucumbers and stuff like some of the Chilean wine they sell that's pretty good. So I got to walk back with a bag in each hand, each bag containing a 3 liter box of the wine and a few other things. 

I went to H Mart and it was well after 7PM. I got some TP and since it was after 7, the foods in the hot case were 2 for 1. I got two $9.99 kalbi and rice boxes for, well, $9.99. And that much food for 10 bucks is a pretty good deal. I was starving. 

I got back here and chowed down, and did various little things like pull things out of the warehouse that have sold on Ebay, verify that I have a check to use to pay my taxes (so I won't have to dash to the bank tomorrow to get a check) and just various odd little tasks that needed doing. I also had to get rid of the chametz, which is anything that's made of wheat etc. that's leavened. The wheat gluten pieces I had in the freezer, that I love to put in curries, were the very definition of chametz. So I thawed them out and cut them up to look like French fries because crows and gulls like French fries, and put 'em out with the scraps from my dinner, for the birds. 

Saturday night back online.

 Friday I was up in plenty of time but of course I had to dilly-dally with the result that I had to dash on the bike to ship things, post office as well as FedEx, then because it was cold and very windy, and the wind was coming from the South which meant I'd have to fight it all the way downtown, instead I rode to the light rail station just 30 seconds late to catch the green train and wait for the next one. It would still not be any slower and a lot less exhausting than riding, though so that's what I did. 

Pretty soon a guy got on the train wearing these huge pale pink sweatpants and Converse sneakers the very same color. He had just a regular looking jacket on top, and it cheered me up, especially when I noticed that his shoes matched. I wonder if he performs as a big bunny or something, and had the head and top of the uniform in a bag or something? 

I got off at Diridon, went to Whole Foods to eat a chicken tender and the best samosa I've ever had, and rode over to the temple. People *do* get there late, but that may be relative since I've always gotten there early. And perhaps the people coming in to sat partway into the service are people who work there... Because the door was locked. I screwed up, now what to do? 

I thought of the stained glass window and looked in there, and waited for Rabbi to sit down for a break, and knocked on the window. He walked purposefully to the back of the room, to open the door. I ran around the building and he opened it, saying curtly but not in an unfriendly way, more like how a family member tells you to do something, to shut the door. I went in and sat down and the service went on. 

There wasn't that much of it, by then. There was one of the songs that sounds like the music in a cowboy movie, some wagon train making its way against the desert, and the other usual things. A big problem right now is, I'd looked for my spare glasses and I guess I donated 'em all. I found eclipse glasses from a few years ago and some sunglasses I bought about 20 years ago but that's it. So I see a trip to an optometrist in my future. And a few hundred bucks since glasses always cost more when you need them. 

There were not very many people at this service, which made it seem friendlier which is why I felt OK about knocking on the window. At the kiddush which is the ol' wine and bread thing, they had laminated cards they said to use but don't take home. I didn't get one, plus I looked at one later and the writing's teeny because it's got a whole lot of stuff on it. So I'm going to make my own cheater cards, for kiddush, kaddish, the lighting of the candles, and everything else I'll need but those three at least to start. 

The gathering was friendly and we sat around eating food and talking, and it was quite friendly. At one point Rabbi came around and I said he's going to call me on the 16th, which he is, and I said he didn't realize how booked up he is, that he's a busy guy. As he turned to leave he gave me a healthy pat on the back which I greatly appreciated. 

After food I got my customary cup of black coffee, and unfortunately, right after quipping to the people at my table that I don't trust coffee I can see through, I choked on it! A little went down the wrong way, and I ended up wheezing and making horrible noises, but obviously got over it as I'm typing this now. Even while I had tears running down I was able to joke about it a bit and gradually got better. Whew! Then it was back to talking about how I invented, when I lived in Gilroy and tahini is unknown, "California" hummus, which uses walnuts instead. And it came out great. 

Jokes and recipes done with, I headed out. It was even colder and windier, with all kinds of crap from the trees blowing around. Pretty soon I had a horrible coughing fit and had to stop and out out the bottle of Listerine I keep in the bike bag and the horrible "I think I'm gonna puke" coughing quelled by a few gargles with that. That shit from the trees always gets to me, I don't know if it's a classic allergy but I get itchy eyes and horrible coughing. So I got my emergency mask out of the bike bag and put that on and kept it on until I got back here. 

Besides a quick check of Ebay and email, I then settled in to watch a movie or two on YouTube, have dinner and wine, and relax. 

I woke up around noon I think, and read books. It was rainy and windy outside and it was nice to be in here. I did a bit in my Reading Hebrew book too. I guess I'm not going to get into another class until October or so, but by that time I'll have gone through both books and hopefully a bit more, but I need to officially take the class to get credit for it. 

I see this all as something akin to getting a 2-year college degree since the process is said to take a year but more realistically two. Even if I were to start paying full temple dues immediately, which are about 2 grand a year, it's significantly cheaper. And I can't think of any college degree that, at my age, can be a ticket out of here in case things get bad. 

I just don't think my ideas about moving back to Hawaii and from there being able to bug off to Thailand or Vietnam or rural Japan are very sound. I will always stick out like a sore thumb in any of those places. I can get along OK in Hawaii and it *is* cheaper than here, but as my Big Island friend Pat advises me, I'll have to constantly talk about how I grew up there and went to this and that school etc. In other words, I'll have to constantly justify my existence. I've never felt I had to rattle on, here in California, about how I was born here in California. I appear, dare I say, native?

Meanwhile anyone who even looks vaguely Asian-Pacific can step off the plane in Hawaii and be more welcome than I ever was. A good example is Andy Bumatai. He's the product, I believe, of a white American father and Filipino mother, born in Germany, who didn't get to Hawaii until he was 12 or so. He's more American or German or Filipino than anything to do with Hawaii, yet he's considered super "local". 

I knew if I was going to move back there, I'd have to prove myself somehow and I thought the shakuhachi would be a good way. It's a wonderful instrument, and has a quasi-religious place in Japanese culture. If I could get good at it, like really good, that could be my "in". 

Except even those white shakuhachi players who are indeed very good, constantly have to justify and explain themselves. Even that's not as annoying as the fact that shakuhachi, played to a modern standard, takes a LOT of air. I think it even takes more than the tuba. I'd have a chance if I'd started when I was 10, but I just don't have enough years left in me to get good at it, if I ever could be. 

But on trumpet, eh, people tip me. I get sounding good once in a while. There's a reason I've always come back to it. It laughs at bad weather, doesn't eat strings, makes a pretty good sound when you do it right, doesn't need amplification, and so on. And it's important in Judaism. 

I should add that, when I was in Whole Foods getting my chicken strip and samosa, I had to wait in line and I picked a line that looked less busy, a Black guy ahead of me and his two kids, maybe ages 8 and 10, who were clowning around. And by clowning around, I mean they were doing some kind of martial art grappling moves, resulting in one or both falling down on the polished cement floor. It was hilarious. I kept trying to tell one of the kids, "When he kicks, when he brings his leg up, grab it like this" but they kept on with the moves they knew. Their dad, who was huge, 6'4" at least, and looked like he trained seriously in something, kept telling them to stop but they knew they were the star of the show and kept it up. The cashier asked, "Do they get along?" just as the kids both fell - Plop! - on the floor. The father said, "Sure they do!" Once he was done and was escorting his little hellions out, I said to the cashier that this was the most enjoyable wait I've ever had there.