DC Across the River

What interfaith High Holiday services look like

2010-09-15T14:01:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Suzan Katzmiller, like me a member of the Interfaith Families Project, I'm able to share an account of the beautiful interfaith Rosh Hashanah services held last week. (Thanks to childcare and work, I couldn't go. But I was there in spirit.) It beautifully wove the traditional elements of the Rosh Hashanah service with Cat Stevens and The Byrds. A High Holy Day indeed.

Sabbaths on the Moon

2010-09-12T19:21:00.000-07:00

This year's theme for the Interfaith Families Project is "sabbaths"; the value of taking time off from our daily routines to acknowledge our fortune and connect us with our world. But, we learned today, "out of this world" experiences aren't excluded from Sabbaths either. Our spiritual advisor, Rev. Julia Jarvis, shared with us a dream she had recently. In it, John Glenn and Neil Armstrong had written a message in the sky: "Don't forget to breathe."

I'm sure when Glenn was the first American to orbit the earth, and Armstrong was the first human being to walk on the moon, that they did have to remind themselves to breathe. But on at least two of the moon missions--Apollo 8, which orbited the moon at Christmas 1968, and Apollo 11, which first landed on the moon a little more than six months later, the astronauts actually created sacred spaces within their spacecraft.

The Apollo 8 crew read the Creation story
from Genesis while in lunar orbit...

The first example is better known. On Christmas Eve 1968, the crew of Apollo 8 (Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and William Anders) made an historic TV broadcast in which they read the Creation story from Genesis. Watching it on YouTube this afternoon, it still raised goosebumps.

Madalyn Murray O'Hair, a well-known atheist activist at the time, had brought a lawsuit following the Genesis reading. So when Apollo 11 landed on the moon, Buzz Aldrin gave himself communion aboard the lunar module after offering following suggestion to those listening on the ground:

...and Buzz Aldrin took communion on the
lunar surface during the Apollo 11 mission.

I'd like to take this opportunity to ask every person listening in, whoever and wherever they may be, to pause for a moment and contemplate the events of the past few hours, and to give thanks in his or her own way.

In these days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, when we think about, among other things, how to keep the sacred in our lives, I'm touched by these explorer's simple efforts to create spaces for the sacred-- that could accomodate faiths in addition to their own. I also can't help but be affected by the way that they were moved to do so when their experiences simply defied words.

L'Shanah Tovah. And may we be inspired by these otherworldly Sabbaths.

L'Shanah Tovah!

2010-09-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

Apples and honey: the traditional treat eaten on Rosh Hashanah
to express the hope that the new year will be sweet.

L'Shanah Tovah--Happy New Year!

Forces beyond my control again conspired to keep me away from Rosh Hashanah services again tonight. Which is a shame. The Interfaith Families Project is putting on its own Rosh Hashanah service for the first time tonight. They have brought so much to my family's life and I am thrilled to be involved with them. (Check out the article in today's Washington Post about some other families like mine that are worship with IFFP.) But I celebrated with my family with the traditional apples and honey, spent some time with the kids as they painted. All in all, it was a good way to mark the beginning of the Jewish year.

Being in an interfaith family, I think often about Rosh Hashanah and its meaning. I like the idea of a "birthday" or literally "head of the year," as the Hebrew name for the holiday means. I've never really marked years on January 1st, or on my birthday. Rosh Hashanah has been much more of a signpost of the beginning of things for me. It's when the school year started, and when the jobs I had been in still felt fresh and new. The idea of taking stock was always very appealing to me. And, as Joseph Campbell tells us, the theme of rebirth and renewal at the beginning of the year is a most ancient one.

Traditionally, the Jewish New Year marks the number of years since the Creation. So I hope that the year 5771 brings greater understanding among people of different faiths (Jewish, Christian and Muslim); that our society nurses itself closer to economic and social health; and that we all stay safe, happy and healthy. That's my hope. May it be a year as sweet as the apples and honey that we shared tonight.

My Review of Custom Eula

2010-09-03T21:16:00.001-07:00

Originally submitted at Timbuk2

Create your own Eula

Rockin' bag!

By Ska Man from Washington, DC on 9/3/2010

Pros: Rugged, Lightweight, Comfortable, Adjustable, Lots of Storage, Stylish

Cons: No key cord

Best Uses: Not Just Biking

Describe Yourself: Office Professional, Busy Dad with Much Stuff

Primary use: Personal

Was this a gift?: No

I bought this bag for use on the weekend to carry keys, camera, shades, journal, etc. I already have a basic black Timbuk2 messenger that I use for work. My new custom Eula is ab fab. The only thing "missing" is the key cord that's in the big messenger but I'm otherwise thrilled. My stuff is out of my pockets. I don't have to be searching through them to find my keys any more.

(legalese)

Princesses are from Mars, Glenn Beck is from...

2010-08-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

The lovely Dejah Thoris, courtesy of Rob Ullman.
Can amity between red and green Martians, and Earthlings,
be a model for ourselves?

Today I return to the blogosphere with a discussion of Glenn Beck and Mars. No, it’s not what you think.

Earlier this summer, Rob Ullman, a cartoonist and artist whose oevre includes sports, comic books, science fiction and culture drew a portrait of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Mars from Edgar Rice Burroughs’s book of the same name. I’ve never been a huge sci fi fan myself. (OK, I went to one Star Trek convention years ago, but that’s a separate story.) Still, having read Burrough’s Tarzan when I was a kid, I picked up a copy.

A Princess of Mars came out nearly a century ago, and it’s far from a Nobel- or Booker-worthy read. (After all, there are fifteen-foot tall, six-appendaged green monsters and the aforementioned Ms. Thoris wears no clothing apart from her jewels.) But the scenes between John Carter, the novel’s hero who is mysteriously transported from Arizona to the plains of Mars (which the inhabitants call Barsoom), and Dejah Thoris are wonderful to read because of the civility and formality with which they address each other—like when Dejah Thoris tells John Carter that she has been engaged to another man:

“It is too late, John Carter, my promise is given, and on Barsoom that is final. The ceremonies which follow later are meaningless formalities. They make the fact of marriage no more certain than does the funeral cortege of a jeddak again place the seal of death upon him. I am good as married, John Carter. No longer may you call me your princess. No longer are you my chieftain.”

They speak to each other reverently. Now distinguish this from our political discourse. As it’s all too easy to tell from watching the campaigns, and the reaction to recent debates about healthcare reform, economic stimulus and so on, we live in a poisonous political environment. Leslie Marshall, who hosts a talk radio show out of Los Angeles, asked the other night what was missing from politics. I said a sense of civility, particularly since Glenn Beck’s rally at the Lincoln Memorial had just happened. A little to my surprise, the event turned out to be more church revival than Nuremburg rally. (Never mind that neither he nor most media addressed the double standard between vilifying a Muslim community center proposed for “hallowed ground” in lower Manhattan and holding a right-wing rally on the steps of Lincoln Memorial, on the anniversary of the “I Have a Dream” speech.)

As I thought more about Leslie’s question, though, and contemplated the root causes of the lack of civility, I dare say that I thought Beck may be on to something. Far from me to think that injecting Christian revivalism into politics is a good thing. But I think what’s missing from politics is a sense that we are all created in God’s image. Even those of us who worship a different God—or no God at all. I’m now preparing for my second year of teaching interfaith fifth graders about the life and times of Jesus. Being in an interfaith marriage, I can say that I’ve had so much joy brought into my life by being open to more than one form of belief. I only wish that our politicians (and us, as a culture) could be more interested in living our motto: “out of many, one.”

Watch! This! Space!

2010-08-31T09:49:00.000-07:00

A posting to follow--very possibly tonight!

I know, I know, it's been many, many moons since I last posted to this blog. It's been an exciting summer. Very, very busy, which is a good thing given all the concerns about slowing economic growth. Let's pray that the gray economic clouds reported last week are the gray clouds we've grown used to and not another gathering storm.

What have we learned?

American politics are even nastier than we thought they were.
It takes just about a hundred days to plug a hole in the ocean.
The benefit provided to a baseball team by a rookie pitching phenom (during his rookie year) is inversely proportional to the size of the contract signed by said rookie.

I plan to write a a more detailed post involving Glenn Beck and Mars (and not in ways that you may think). Watch this space and hopefully it won't be quite as dormant!

What Part of "Happy Interfaith Marriage" Do Some People Not Understand?

2010-06-06T14:26:00.000-07:00

It's been a very long time since I was motivated to post on this blog. Life, as it does sometimes, intervened. But the op-ed by in today's WaPo Outlook section by Naomi Schaefer Riley got me very hot and bothered this morning and not in a good way. It made me almost choke on my banana Cheerios, in fact, as I was getting our kids ready to go to our interfaith gathering.

You can read the article for itself, but what I find most grating about it is that pretty much all she cites are studies that retread all the arguments I've heard about interfaith couples, right up to "the family that prays together, stays together." Well, my family prays together. We say grace at dinnertime and we go to faith gatherings together. When I have some concern about someone's health, job, or life, I pray. Does this always happen at a synagogue, or a church? No. Is it exclusively Jewish or exclusively Catholic? No. But we have a shared experience in faith. And after a year of teaching a Sunday school class on the historical Jesus, I can say that I know more about Judaism and Jesus--and what my wife's and my own faiths have in common--than I ever did before.

Well, this has left me far too upset than I should be on a Sunday night. It's off to the grocery store and then to prepare a nice Sunday dinner. In an interfaith household in which we thank God every day that He led us to each other.

Goodbye to the Aughts, Baby!

2010-01-04T20:23:00.000-08:00

Is it too late to write about New Years? Your blogger spent the holidays trying to take care of a sore throat/cold that (thanks to the very good Doctor at the local urgent care clinic) turned out to be strep throat. As a result, the January 1st posting has waited four days to germinate. However, I've been happy to have a few days to think about it.

2009 was a challenging year for all, but I like to think that in the crucible of the most intense recession of our lives, I learned how to prioritize better, to become more creative and resourceful in my work, and to not just accept things as they are. I think we'll collectively look back on the past year and be grateful about how we avoided the worst that might have been. Some will disagree, saying that Obama has taken us on an inexorable march towards socialism, but I disagree and refuse to digress.

What I've been thinking about the most is how we are now (arguably, at least) at the beginning of a new decade. There have been a few reminiscences about what this means in terms of the best television of the last ten years (I say in many cases that's an oxymoron), but honestly this one snuck up on me. I think this has been such a challenging decade that we don't feel much like celebrating it. More like turning the page on ten difficult years and hoping that the teens will be better.

What to make of this decade? What to call it? I do like the "aughts" because it sounds like the way the gentleman at the top would refer to it. It's hard to think of a personal pronoun to attach it to. The "me decade" is already taken, and the "us decade" doesn't fit. Maybe the iDecade because of the fast pace of technology. But here's what I'm thinking about what we were like from 1999 to 2009.

We were angry for much of the time. The decade started with the final fallout from the Lewinsky scandal. (Remember that one? Impeaching a President over a sex act seems, to borrow a term from the subsequent administration, "quaint".) Republicans manufactured a great deal of anger on their side, and Democrats felt like the President they voted for had betrayed them or been unjustly maligned. What a mess. Then George W. Bush and his minions squeaked by in the 2000 election. There are very strong arguments that they manipulated or stole votes in Florida, but at the very least it was an election in which 50 million people voted for his opponent and the other side, had it been as assertive as the Republicans, could have won just as easily. Did Bush govern with the "unity government" as was suggested? Of course not.

Then a litany of infuriating things followed. Worldcom. Enron. The failure of the Iraq war. The disaster of Katrina. On and on and on. And of course, the signature event of this decade and possibly our lives, the September 11th attacks.

September 11th channeled this anger, mixed with intense fear, and created a sense of rage and fear that drove politics for the rest of the decade.

I've wanted to write for a long time about September 11th and haven't been able to put it to words. This is not the time or place for that reminiscence, but if my own experience is any indication, the event brought forth an incredibly complex range of emotions, both all at once and over time: anger; rage; fear; deep, deep sadness, loneliness, powerlessness. I think our country went through a similar experience. We felt a great many things but internalized most of them. They manifested themselves in what I can only call a "rage-based" foreign policy under the Bush administration, focused on avenging the deaths of those killed in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. It resulted in what we thought would be an easy war to defeat Saddam Hussein, the hated Arab bogeyman and "appropriate" scapegoat; new interpretations of laws allowing the torture and indefnite imprisonment of our enemies; and a go-it-alone approach that alienated us from nearly all of our allies except the U.K., Israel and Australia. I think we're coming out of this funk but it lasted long enough to permeate our domestic politics as well. Witness the hyperbole and screaming about "socialist" stimulus packages and "Nazi policy" being made through healthcare reform.

With a new decade, I hope that we'll no longer be driven by anger and fear. I hope the recession is teaching us to live in a more grateful way and to appreciate our neigbors, rather than to be driven to annoyance or worse by our differences.

Interfaith at Christmastime: The Beginning of a Dialogue

2009-12-20T19:24:00.000-08:00

One of my motivations for starting a blog was to begin a dialogue — or at least a monologue in the form of essays — on matters that I think about often. One of the things that often on my mind is the nature of religious identity in a diverse society. For me, this means that I'm part of the interfaith community. (Yes, as the picture to the right indicates, we have a Hannukah menorah and we put up Christmas decorations. The photo is from last year, when the holidays coincided.) With Christmas coming up — a Christian holiday that also has important secular meanings in our world — I'd like to begin a discussion of what it means to be interfaith.

The Merriam-Webster definition of "interfaith" is conventional, in the sense of its emphasis on the involvement of people of different religious faiths. In many instances, it is accurate. A Google search for "interfaith dialogue" yields some 514,000 results , includling efforts to promote interfaith dialogue on post 9/11 relations between Islam and the rest of the world and the AIDS crisis. These are ad hoc discussions that bring together people of diverse religious backgrounds to find common understanding of the world's major problems.

While these efforts are important, focusing on the ecumenical elements of interfaith dialogue, I think, fails to account for the many people who are in my situation. Namely, that I'm a person who grew up in a Jewish family, married a Catholic, and who, while secure in my own faith wants to make sure that my children have, as they are developing and growing, the security that comes from both faiths without feeling like outsiders or freaks. My family is very fortunate to have found the Interfaith Families Project (IFFP), here in Washington. It's a community of several hundred families, which share the same interest that we have in raising our children with the perspective of both faiths. We're very lucky to have become part of this extraordinary group. We're even teaching a Sunday school class on the life of Jesus, which has been a wonderful experience so far.

This is a very complex topic and I won't handle it all in one post. After this introduction, I'll be writing next about how I came to be part of an interfaith family. I'll follow that up with a "This I Believe" posting. Finally, I'll be posing some questions about interfaith life.

But I want to begin with a few stories.

I'm about ten years old, driving with my grandparents to their beach apartment. I've never even thought about kissing a girl but my grandparents are telling me and my sister about how they'd like us to marry Jewish people. I totally understood where they were coming from but even then something sounded wrong to me about thinking I couldn't love or marry someone because they didn't share my faith...

...It's my first week of college. My floormate Will, hailing from rural Arkansas, is asking all of us if we're Jewish (about two thirds of us are) — what he means is if we keep kosher, because he wants to cook some jambalaya for us. We thank him and assure him that even though we are "members of the tribe," we can eat his dish. "Good!" he says. "Jambalaya, dude!"...

...I'm hanging out with a dear friend from high school and her parents. Her mom says that marrying someone who isn't Jewish is like letting Hitler win...

...April 28th, 2001: my beautiful bride Melissa and I exchange vows in a Catholic cathedral, under a huppah, with a rabbi and a priest officiating. Two-thirds of a good joke, I say. Also the foundation of a wonderful life together. How blessed we are...

...This past fall, I'm at a book launch event for a study of the expatriate Indian Jewish community living in Israel, and am talking with two women my grandmothers' age about being interfaith, and doing my best to raise my children with the best of both traditions. One says she's an atheist and could't imagine raising her children with any religion. The other purses her lips and clucks, seemingly amazed that a young person would try anything so stupid.

I'm not the first person who has tried to express what it's like to grow up interfaith. Susan Katz Miller, a fellow IFFP member, has a blog that explores these issues far more eloquently than I could. There are no right answers here. Few people have tried to do this, and many, particularly in older generations, can't imagine why one would try to "be both." I like to think that it's one of the greatest advantages of living in a society as diverse as ours. There is no longer a "gentleman's agreement" restricting Jewish enrollment in major universities, or Jewish hires in businesses or agencies. And if we choose, we can marry anyone we want, and be accepted into their families.

So let's begin the discussion. Next, how I came to this happy place.

The Dance of the Sugarplum Interfaith Fellow

2009-12-16T20:01:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. I love "The Nutcracker," the short ballet written (and some say, disavowed by) the great Russian composer Peter Ilyitch Tchaikovsky, which has in the last half-century become one of the hallmarks of the holiday season, especially in the United States. The music in it is so much a part of the popular ethos that it's been appropriated by TV commercials and even Duke Ellington. (The image at the right is the backdrop for the second act, set in the Land of the Sugarplum Fairy, from the original production.)

I've been thinking about Nutcracker a lot lately because it arouses a lot of emotions in people, ranging from warm feelings of winter afternoons gone by to "ugh, I hate it." For me, it's a touchstone experience because I see it through the eyes of someone who is "interfaith" -- a theme which I'd like to begin exploring in this blog.

By interfaith, I don't mean "ecumenical" -- in other words, including people of many faiths in dialogue, particularly with issues that are important in modern society. These days we often hear about interfaith approaches to healthcare, or AIDS, or the war on terrorism. I mean something that I and many other families have direct experience with: the work involved in creating a family in which one spouse is of one faith (usually Christian), another spouse is of another faith (often Jewish), and the children, it is hoped, grow up with at least an appreciation for both.

"Nutcracker" resonates for me here because my experience with is is very much interfaith. I grew up Jewish, in a family that was, on the one hand, very assimilated. We didn't keep kosher or go to synagogue regularly. But Christmas was often an isolating time in our house, in the sense that we didn't participate in any of the secular elements of the season. To this day, some in my immediate family are openly hostile to the holiday, resisting going to Christmas parties or dinners if invited, turning of holiday music when it plays on the radio, and so on. A recent blog posting by the JCC here in Washington talked about one parent's ambivalence about "Nutcracker."

My mom, who still takes ballet class, first took me to the ballet when I was about five to see "The Nutcracker." If I hadn't wimped out at the last minute, I would have been in my elementary school's talent show as a kindergartener dancing around to soldier music from the first act. This year, I bought a copy of the wonderful ABT production with Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gelsey Kirkland to play for my daughter, who is the same age that I was when I first saw it.

To my mind, "Nutcracker" is wonderful. It's a story that only begins with a Christmas party, but that deals more with the imagination and joy inherent in childhood. A little girl dreams that her toy nutcracker comes to life and takes her to a magical land. That's it. It's based on a short story by the German writer ETA Hoffman, brought to life by a Russian composer, and now part of the cultural zeitgeist of postmodern America. So when I approach it it's not as a Jew, or as a Jew married to a Catholic, but as a human being of one particular background living in a diverse, modern society. The joy in watching this little ballet comes from the dancing, and the music, and reliving the joy I felt seeing it for the first time in seeing my daughter do the same thing.

I'll explore in later postings what exactly being interfaith means to me -- but for the time being, it's back to dancing with the sugarplum fairy.

Toward a More Grateful Afghan People?

2009-12-03T14:56:00.000-08:00

I wasn't able to watch President Obama's speech on Afghanistan on Tuesday, but I heard much about it the following day and have been thinking about whether we are doing the right thing. I pulled out something I haven't looked at in a while. It's a Soviet campaign medal from their war in Afghanistan that I picked up from a Moscow street vendor back in 1992.

The reverse, in a master stroke of overestimated gratitude, reads "From the Grateful Afghan People" in Russian and Arabic.

Holding this medal again made me wonder about whether we're doing the right thing here. So in the tradition begun by Peter King in his football column, here are a few"things I think I think."

The Santayana "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" conundrum. I can't help but be reminded that a number of empires have gone into Afghanistan thinking that it will be easy going, only to be bogged down. It was true for the "Great Game" fought in central Asia, it was true for the nine years the Soviets spent in Afghanistan, and it is true for the (at least) ten years that we will have spent in Afghanistan by the time our troops stop leaving.
Afghanistan was envisioned as a short war, but it oviously did not turn out that way. The chief reason for this was that our forces were moved from Afghanistan to support the Bush/Cheney war on Iraq. If we had the resources on the ground in 2003, this war may well have been over long before now. So it is at the very least not helpful, and at the most a continuation of the Bush administration's pathological lying, lack of accountability, and refusal to admit complete and utter failure for people like Dick Cheney critizize Obama on this, particularly for their perception that domestic politics is driving the decision. This from a group that won the2004 election by branding any opponent of the Iraq war an al Quaeda sympathizer. I think that the new Obama strategy is sound, I'm glad that there is a sense of what success looks like, and I'm glad that the plan includes a set of guardrails to guide withdrawal. I hope that people remember the kind of support that Bush received at the beginning of this war. At least he got the benefit of the doubt that he was doing the right thing. Let's remember that as we think about our current Commander in Chief, who is infinitely more intellectually engaged in his Presidency, and is much better served by his civilian staff, than his predecessor.
Afghanistan is only a piece of the puzzle. It is naive to think that by winning the war in Afghanistan that we thereby pacify Iran, stabilize Pakistan and decouple the political influence of the Middle East with our almost complete dependence on them for our energy needs. But I agree with my graduate school professor David Rothkopf that it's folly to underestimate the complexity of the raft of issues of which Afghanistan is only a part.

So that's what I believe about where things are in Afghanistan at the moment. Only time will tell if the result is a truly grateful Afghan people or another shiny medal. I'll look forward to seeing what comments are made on this posting--maybe they can be the basis for a future conversation.

Music to be Remembered from 2009

2009-11-28T14:15:00.000-08:00

Now that it's holiday season, if you're anything like me (and a lot of people in my family), you start thinking about what music you'd like to share with family and friends. We tend to play more music in our house. The requests started early with the new Bob Dylan Christmas album. Yes, it is out and is not half-bad to listen to. We are truly an interfaith family -- more about that in postings to come -- and "Christmas from the Heart" is very nice to have on in the background. This is "raspy Bob Dylan" rather than "bardic Bob Dylan" so he tends to do better with the folksier songs than the more spiritual ones. (On the latter, the effect is kind of like that old Saturday Night Live sketch with Frankenstein, Tonto, and Tarzan singing carols.)

One thing that's worth noting is the place that iTunes is starting to occupy in terms of how we share music. This blog is not a shill for Apple by any means, but I think they've been able to do what Napster couldn't -- to really change the way that people buy new music, and share what they already have. It's a great resource for trying out new bands -- witness what their partnershp with Starbucks has done for showcasing new artists -- but we also use it to create mixes to share with people at holidays, birthdays and special occasitions. So thank you, Steve Jobs.

And with that in mind, here are five songs that I heard in 2009 that deeply affected me. I think it says a lot for how, even in a challenging economy, artits have been able to find inspiration in old and new musical traditions, and to create songs that are just wonderful. In no particular order, they are:

U2, "Breathe," from No Line on the Horizon: U2 are my favorite band and I suspect I'll be buying their albums until it's time for them to go into the nursing home. But nearly thirty years after their first record, their 2009 effort is still fresh, literate and passionate. I like this track because the first line alludes to Bloomsday, so what's not to like?

Neko Case, "Middle Cyclone," from Middle Cyclone: I've always had a thing for women who can sing and write, and was knocked off my feet by this Neko Case song which I heard for the first time on a free Starbucks download. The entire album is outstanding, but in this song, about preparing oneself to love someone, Neko is simultaneously keening, mournful, and beautiful.

Two songs from Sound Kapital, a book of photos and an accompanying CD about the Chinese punk rock underground (see my earlier posting about the show by the photographer, Matthew Niederhauser) that I cannot stop listening to. If you pay attention to international economics and finance like I do, you know about how China and the US have a symbiotic relationship -- they purchase our debt, we purchase their goods. Economic development has created a burgeoning consumer class and has arguably raised the standard of living, but not without raising questions, among the young, about the effect of consumerism on society as a whole. That's what drives a lot of these bands. Two of the most affecting songs on the album are:

E-White, "Spring House": I have never heard anything like this before. No lyrics, but a wall of sound that begins with traditional Chinese strings, layering drums, woodwinds, and finally the most ethereal voice.

Ourself Beside Me, "Sunday Girl" Yes, Chinese bands can do incredible alternative-pop music. This is an all-girl band that blends Eastern and Western, America, Carnaby Street London and a bicycle bell. Oh. My. God. I've played it four times in a row in my car. It doesn't hurt that it shares a title with a Blondie song either.

Duffy, "Mercy," from Rockferry: Duffy is a Welsh singer who was inspired to sing by watching Whoopi Goldberg in "Sister Act." I first heard "Mercy in February and was blown away. Retro, without being tinny or sappy. Wow, wow, wow.

So, there are five great songs worth downloading and sharing -- courtesy of acts from Ireland, the US, China and the UK -- a blending of east and west. Enjoy!

The Obligatory "Things I'm Thankful For" Post

2009-11-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

With the turn of the leaves, the finishing of the turkey dinner and the digestion of receipts from Black Friday, one's thoughts turn (if they haven't already) to thoughts of why we actually celebrate this holiday: to express thanks to whatever Creator or other animating force in which we believe for the blessings we have in our lives.

This has not been the easiest year. I think it's safe to say that everyone in our country, no matter how poor or wealthy, has had to deal with the effects of the Great Recession. Some have lost jobs, some have had difficulty finding one. Many have had to rethink plans for their family's education, or buying a house. Some have had to make sacrificies in the running of their business. Some have had to re-adjust their expectations drastically.

But as I've thought many times as I've looked at my professional or my personal life over the last year, times like this help you realize what you are truly capable of. And I'm grateful for having had that experience. Because as hard as the last year has been, I've developed skills I didn't have before, made amazing new acquaintances and friends, and deepened friendships with those with whom I was already close. As I told a friend yesterday, "here's to a year well lived." So here, in no particular order, are the things I'm thankful for this year:

Beautiful children that giggle and tickle.
A wife and a marriage that never are fickle.
Work that absorbs me and isn't a bore.
Family and friendships that I just adore.

And yes, the resemblance of the rhyme scheme to "My Favorite Things" is deliberate.

It's been a very good year. I feel blessed to have a wonderful wife and family, dear friends, and work that keeps me engaged and interested. And one last thing--this was the year that I got into social media, on Facebook, Twitter and this blog. And I'm grateful that in this age, as we've lost our connections to each other as a society in so many ways, that we are finding new tools to help us relate to each other better.

So, good night, and here's to many blessings coming our way between now and next Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Translates Well into Russian and French

2009-11-24T18:48:00.000-08:00

I'll likely have a few other thoughts on Thanksgivging over the coming weekend. But it's starting to feel a lot like the holiday already. About two-thirds of the people in my office will be gone tomorrow, people are not returning phone calls for the rest of the week, and one's thoughts are turning to copious amounts of food, football, friends, and family. (How's that for allitereration?)

Two things come to mind. First of all, the Russian translation of Thanksgiving is den' blagodarenie, which does lend some cross-cultural relevance to the fourth Thursday in November. Hence the photo of me in the Soviet officer's cap which I smuggled out of the not-quite independent Russian Federation in 1992. (That, and per the request by a bitchin' expatriate fellow blogger in the UK.)

Secondly, the French translation of Thanksgiving is "le jour de merci donnant," or at least it is according to the late, great columnmist Art Buchwald. He had an uproariously funny Thanksgiving column that ran in the Washington Post for many, many years until recently. In my family we made it a tradition to read it every Thanksgiving morning. Here is the link for you to read avant manger votre dinde.

I'll share what I'm thankful for after the tryptophan kicks in. Happy Thanksgiving!

I Go Roguish

2009-11-20T16:43:00.000-08:00

It was only a matter of time before I would write something about Going Rogue, I suppose. Something about wanting to give equal attention to an interesting (if not compelling) figure on the right to complement Dreams from my Father, which I read just after the inauguration. (And which I thought was one of the most compelling books I've ever read--the only one that made me cry.)

So I ordered Sarah Palin's book not because I wanted or expected deep insight into her political philosophy--or because I cared to read her articulate her political philosophy--but because I wanted some knowledge of her character. (Also because I needed to spend four more dollars to get free shipping from Amazon.)

She seems to get more mileage out of being "cute" than most people above the age of five. (The Anamaniacs are insightful on the perils of this type of appeal.) She has a personality as big as the state she calls home -- which may be an enviable quality in a talk-show host or a blogger but isn't necessarily what one looks for in the Leader of the Free World. And she's a distance runner.

I won't be convinced that she's presidential material. But I do have one question that I hope would be answered by this book: Why? What would make a bubbly, athletic woman helping her husband with their business (with three kids) embark all of a sudden on the political journey of Sarah Palin? She presents it as something that unfolded for her, with somewhat divine inspiration, but I don't get the sense of her motivation. Or of her fears. Or her goals. Honestly, I think she's cut from a cloth we've seen before. "Someone we'd like to have a drink with, or to date." But someone who is incapable of the least bit of introspection. Why did she run for governor? And why did she quit with eighteen months left in her term?

There are pictures of her family--mostly of her sons and her younger daughters, and very few of her daughter Bristol who gave her her grandson. It makes one wonder what kind of emotional baggage she's carrying from being on a presidential ticket while her family was challenged in the way it was. And there are moose. And lots of beautiful Alaska scenery.

Much has been made of the factual innacuracies in the book, particularly about her role in the McCain campaign (the clothes, her appearance on Saturday Night Live, etc). Other writers at the Huffington Post and elsewhere have addressed it much better than I can. But from what I've read in Going Rogue, I'm left feeling... not much of anything. I don't disagree with her any less than I did before. I find her strikingly intolerant and inflexible, with a bit of a persecution complex and a fundamental lack of understanding about any worldview except hers. I'm surprised that the first vignette she includes in the book, of her at the Alaska State Fair with her daughter Piper, focuses on the pro-life ad that featured her daughter Piper. So many is painted in political tones. She does see the world in reds and blues--not colors.

So, in the end, I'm left feeling kind of numb. I don't know anything about her that I didn't before.

Pictures at an Exhibition of a Headbanger's Ball--in Beijing

2009-11-10T17:52:00.000-08:00

One of the things that I love the most about my job is that it lets me indulge my first love, international affairs. I cut my professional and academic teeth studying reforms in post-Soviet Russia. While my musical tastes in college weren't quite the same as they are now, somewhere I still have a tape of late '80s-early '90s pop in Russia and songs by Boris Grebenshikov and Akvarium, two bands that were pretty good for their time but sounded like excellent garage bands. When I was in Moscow in 1992, all the hip guys in the clubs we were in wanted to be MC Hammer, but the closest they could come was Vanilla Ice. (The best memory I have of that time is a line of wannabes striking poses to "Ice Ice Baby.")

So I was excited last night to see "Sound Kapital," a photography show at Govinda Gallery in Washington, DC's Georgetown. Govinda has been around for years--they feature photography documenting rock and roll, and over the years have had exhibits of John Lennon's drawings and amazing photos of Jimi Hendrix and other greats. The photographer is Matthew Niederhauser, a Columbia University graduate who has spent the last two years documenting the alternative/punk music scene in China, especially Beijing.

I love his photos because they remind me a bit of David Bailey's pictures of the '60s, which transport you to a very specific time and place in culture--which in this case is right now, in a country of over a billion people. Niederhauser basically became the house photographer at D-22, one of the major places to hear music in Beijing, in return for free drinks and access to the shows. He posed all the bands in front of a bright red wall in a back room of the club, so all the acts are framed by the same wooden floor, and worn background. But it's a heap of fun to see how diverse they are -- from traditional groups who look like they stepped out of a yurt, to long-legged women in blue jeans that seem to be channeling Debbie Harry, to four guys with mohawks jumping around like fleas. Or like Flea. It's not fair to place them all under the rubric of "punk" -- these are bands with all kinds of different sounds. But they are all underground -- no huge media machine behind them, and taking care not to alienate the government or the companies that press their records, who also don't want to alienate the government.

The companion book to the "Sound Kapital" show includes a CD of 17 of the bands that Niederhauser photographed -- and the music is amazing. The music has rich orchestrations and melodies, thumping drums -- lush vocals (in Chinese and in English). As I listened to it on the way home last night I was reminded at times of Patti Smith, of David Bowie, Blondie, the Clash, Rancid -- pretty much the whole history of what we now call "modern rock," and the sounds of pretty much my entire adult life. But these bands are developing in the crucible of the world's most populous country, lurching headlong into economic development, consumerism and othe elements of our 21st century. Niederhauser says that these kids are going to be all right -- which I agree with. They're funny and passionate, with a true sense of who they are -- and damn good.

iederhauser said last night that a lot of bands don't see music as American, or Chinese, or Brazilian or Russian--but that it's all music. Which is pretty cool when you think about it. These bands have grown up being able to hear music online so their influences are based on something much broader than a mix tape, handed down through multiple generations of fans. It was awfully cool to see a fellow Columbia grad who has truly done good. I hope he keeps up his work -- he's documenting other elements of how China is developing--but I hope he keeps up with the music pictures because they're capturing a rare moment in rock & roll -- when it returns to first principles, and reminds us how raw and passionate (and beautiful) it can be.

"Sound Kapital" is running as part of DC Foto Week -- so definitely try to check it out. On November 14th, Xiao He, one of the artists in the book, will be giving a free show at Govinda. And two of the bands are playing at the Velvet Lounge on Friday night. So if you go to check out either of those, please comment on the blog and let me know how fabulous they are!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes...

2009-11-07T11:05:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking over the last few days of what has happened in the world over the last twenty years and how it's dovetailed with my own life.

November 9, 1989 was a tremendous day--the day the Berlin Wall came down. It was a few weeks before Thanksgiving in my senior year of high school, and we were talking about it nonstop in my European history class with Mrs. Parker. (She liked to say that she had much in common with Queen Elizabeth 1, being a strong woman with red hair.) For me, it was an amazing but not totally unexpected moment. I had spent the previous year in Model UN representing the USSR and Hungary, so I had been following the progress of history in Eastern Europe. I was just a kid, had never been overseas, but the thrill of reading about momentous events in world history as they happened was one that I will never forget. It was a feeling that lasted though the late 90s, when I wrote a thesis on Russian foreign relations and worked on technical assistance programs in the former USSR. (Foreign Policy magazine has a gallery of photos from the year.)

It's hard to believe that it was twenty years ago. There was so much optimism about the future of humanity. Francis Fukuyama wrote about "the end of history." The only sour taste for me was hearing about how Ronald Reagan won the Cold War. He and Margaret Thatcher were did very important things, no doubt--in particular, recognizing Gorbachev as an agent of change and giving him credibility. But I've got to think that Gorbachev and his allies had a lot more to lose if things had happened differently. Gorby, we easily forget, was temporarily toppled by a coup two years later. He's still reviled in his own country for giving away the Soviet empire.

And ten years ago, I had just moved back from New York. The Yankees had just won a world championship under Joe Torre in the old ballyard. I was back in Washington working after finished graduate school, interned for AIG, and interviewed for a job in the World Trade Center. I think often about how, for very different reasons, neither of those edifices exist any more. I'm grateful for those experiences, but have come out of the last decade with a great sense of faith in how things have worked out, and how they will hopefully continue to do so.

I didn't have a cell phone, didn't use e-mail that much--how different things were then. Which is why it's so interesting to me that the Yankees have just won the World Series for the first time in nine years. I will confess that I'm a long-time Yankee fan. My primary allegiance is to the Nationals--I waited 33 years for a hometown team--but have rooted for the Yanks since I was a kid. So it made me very happy to see Derek Jeter and the lot win for the first time in a long time.

So, I think this is one long meditation on "plus qu'il change, plus que c'est le meme chose." I'm continually tickled by the order of things, and count my blessings. I'll hopefully be doing the same thing twenty years from now.

Up a Creigh Without a Paddle

2009-11-02T16:07:00.000-08:00

Here in Ole Virginny, our governors cannot succeed themselves. As a result, we (or more like a third of "we," since turnout in these things is so low) will be choosing a new Governor tomorrow. The winner inherits a weak economy but a legacy of eight years of very sound management. (This is where I get a little partisan, but don't worry, I'll skewer both.) So, the Republican, Bob McDonnell, looks like the likely winner. He'll have four years to do for the Commonwealth what his fellow Republicans did for (or "to") the country.

Sadly, the Democratic candidate, Creigh Deeds, has run a disastrous campaign. Whatever best practices were developed by the Obama campaign last year, he didn't learn. (At least he hired Obama's graphic designer to make the T-shirts and signs.) He came through a tough primary where he fought off a challenge from much better-funded candidates, so you would hope he would understand things like messaging. But he tended to focus more on the fact that McDonnell wrote a thesis in which he said that women don't belong in the workplace (which is disturbing indeed)--and didn't do anything to show that he himself was a progressive candidate.

The kicker is that after the 2008 campaigns, when we learned how important it is to use a huge group of supporters to carry a message and a program through every facet of media (print, TV, and all the forms of social media) -- the Deeds campaign hasn't done any of that. In fact, I called the campaign to volunteer, to which they responded with total tone deafness. It took two weeks to get a call back from them, upon which I said that I didn't have time to canvass or work the polls, but could make calls from home. They never got back to me about that, but did invite me to work the polls.

And then there's Deed's Twitter feed. The only content he's provided has detailed what is on his playlist. Now, I'm delighted that I share his taste in music, but I'd much rather that he use his limited time and money to send substantive information through his social media work. Like what policies he would implement, how to volunteer, how to register to vote, and so on. Like his opponent.

And to top it off, when I mentioned this to the campaign worker who called me about volunteering (which I said I wasn't able to do), she said she didn't know much about Twitter or Facebook. And she was younger than I was.

Tomorrow is going to be a disaster for the Democrats, but the Republicans learned very well from last year. It's enough to make me start referring to the Democratic party without the "ic."

So, we'll have divided government again in Virginia. Jody Wagner looks like she's in a good spot, we have two Democratic senators, and the balance doesn't look to change significantly in the legislature in Richmond. But it's a shame, if you're a Democrat.

Anyway, it's time for me to go get the evening underway, and to watch the Yankees try to claim their 27th world championship. (I used to hang out around here, years ago.)

The One Where I Blog About Blogging

2009-10-29T11:44:00.000-07:00

One of the obtacles that prevented me from blogging for so long has been the fear that I'd be consumed by it (or that there would be so little time to write that it would lie dormant like the last one). But there are a few thoughts I've had over the last few days that I wanted to share. This might fall under the "writing as therapy" category but I hope you'll indulge me.

The hardest thing for a blogger like me (in other words, not a journalist, celebrity or athlete) is to actually come up with something that people will want to read. So, therefore,
The best blog posts are not simply random regurgitations of what happened to me that day, but they are mini-essays. Particularly that have a point.

I'm a very good consumer of blogs, but only read a few regularly. I read the guy who writes about old sports uniforms, the guy who draws pictures of pinup girls wearing sports jerseys (who's a great all-around fellow--a fellow hockey fan and politically similar to me), and my graduate school professor. I also read my boss's blog to make sure I know what's on his mind.

Sometimes--but not with those I mentioned--I read blogs with a grain of salt and tend to pay more attention to the links than the actual writing. That said, I've known some people whose writing seemed to become so much more personal and passionate--and to reveal more about themselves--once they started blogging. Hopefully I'll be able to share those too. And I hope that similar things happen with me.

So, now I'll get back to my working list of essay ideas. Watch this space because more is coming. Thanks for indulging me.

Welcome to DC Across the River!

2009-10-25T14:34:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful Sunday in October. In our house, we are napping, watching figure skating, and enjoying a quiet fall afternoon. Could there be a better day to start a new blog? Probably not. In fact, I'm sure thousands of other people are thinking the same thing.

This isn't my first attempt at blogging. Literally no one read the first one. This was a pre-Twitter, angrier version of myself so I won't inflict it upon you. I thought I'd like to share with people ideas that can't fit neatly into 140 characters. I'm doing this because sometimes when I'm responding to something on Twitter, I have a momentary lapse of vision, which then collapses by the time I put my blackberry down. Brevity may be the soul of wit but what we lack in this age of instant communication (and gratification) is substance and subtlety. So I'll try to expand on topics without being boring.

So, to start with, who am I?

My name is Adam. I grew up in Rockville, Maryland. I went to Walter Johnson High School (yes, named after the great pitcher for the Washington Senators). While I went to college and graduate school at Penn and Columbia, I kept returning to Washington because a) it was where my family lived and b) it was the only place where I could work at the nexus between business and public policy. I've spent time in government, non-profits and business. (Incidentally, in my blogging I'm not going to mention where I currently work, or where I've been in the past. This blog is going to be about myself and my musings, and should not reflect in any way on any organization I've been associated with profesionally.)

Earlier in my career, especially when I was studing in New York, I was enthralled by the prospect of living there and when I started my post-graduate school career ten years ago, I was disappointed that I came back to Washington. But over the years, as I've married and my family grew, I've come to love Washington for everything it is. We have glorious museums, beautiful neighborhoods and streets (even the road I take into work is gorgeous), an abundant diversity of people and opinions, a great hockey team, major league baseball and basketball (and, this season notwithstanding, football).

There's a great deal that I want to write about which I'll be sharing later. I'm looking forward to conteplating Washington from where I live across the river (literally and figuratively). So watch this space...