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.
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