Upcoming Torah Session

The Torah class I'm taking isn't till Tuesday evening, but I've been reading the Abraham story in preparation for it. That's such a complicated bit that we're going to spend two classes on it, but I noticed something for the first time this time through.
You might remember that tricky Abram/Abraham passes off his wife, Sarai/Sarah as his sister twice before fessing up to King Abimelech, and he never gets chewed out by God for anything he does, including that. But what I hadn't noticed before was that according to Abraham, Sarah is his sister--his half-sister. In that passage alone, there are several taboos that we take for granted now that were apparently no problem at all then. One was incest. (There's more incest in the story in the form of Lot's daughter's act of getting dad drunk and getting pregnant by him; if you ask me, they'd spent too much time in Sodom or Gomorrah!). The other was the mixing of meat and milk, when Abraham sacrafices a kid seethed in its mother's milk to God. This is specifically forbidden in the laws of Kashruth, but of course, Abraham isn't Jewish yet. There aren't any Jews yet.

Rain Rain Can Be a Pain

Don't get me wrong. I like rain, the wonderful summer hose smell of the ground after it has showered for a while, the dewy grass, and even the puddles, which I am just childish enough to dabble in, wetting my shoes and sometimes even my socks. But the rain in this area, when it finally does let loose, can bring some problems alien to other, wetter places.
First of all, people in this place don't know how to deal with rain. Their umbrellas have been sitting in the closet so long they get moth holes or disintegrate or break. They don't know how to drive in the rain either. Of course, it doesn't help that there is no drainage on the roads and the soil doesn't absorb very much water. Rain, even a light rain, can mean pile ups and slow downs and big big accidents sometimes too because drivers sometimes don't have enough sense to slow down.
Sometimes it floods, and that can happen really fast. I was once trying to cross the street from the shopping center across the street from my apartment. During the half an hour or so I was in the market, a flood poured into the street and made it impassable. It hadn't even been raining when I went into the store, but when I came out, there were cars floating by, a dead dog, and terrified people hanging onto poles on the islands in the middle of the street.
The only way I escaped from that disaster was by begging a ride with a gigantic SUV, which drove me across the street to my house. But just as when someone is contemplating a jump from a window sill, there were "cheerleaders" on the corner urging me to jump into the white water, where I certainly would have drowned, particularly because I can't swim, despite many years of attempted swimming lessons. Truthfully though, I haven't seen anything like that for a number of years now.
Then there are other kinds of flood, brewing in areas where there have been fires. People who live in rural areas or areas at the edge of the known world/suburb are very vulnerable to fire, and when all the trees and brush burn off, to flood and mudslides. There are any number of ways to meet your maker in this place. Poor Reb, whose family has been evacuated so many times, could tell you about this, couldn't you, Reb?
So when I am sitting quietly in my house, reading and listening to the relaxing sound of raindrops on the roof and the windows, I wonder in the back of my mind if someone will wake me up at 2AM screaming in my ear that I have to get out, that the water is rising in the living room, that the safe and the normal is not really safe at all, but the harbinger of disaster.

New Old Problem

When I first set up a bank account for my parents, I found it was impossible because of the Patriot Act to include my mother officially in it. That is because she never drove, so didn't have a driver's license, was not born in the US, although she is a naturalized citizen, and I couldn't get the DMV to give her an ID card because she might be a terrorist. Yep. A 92 year old Jewish lady from South Africa is really a threat, isn't she?
We tend to think of the Patriot Act as being a threat to our broad Constitutional rights, but it really intrudes on the tiny minutae of our everyday lives, especially when it comes to banking and the like.
Consequently, I have a problem. I cannot bank the checks sent to her by the insurance company and other places. I don't know what to do about it. I will try calling Social Security and see if they will send me a letter declaring to the bank that I am her representative. The statement from Medicare, addressed to me for her, wasn't good enough for them, and I can't find the letter that initially stated that I am her representative. What a pain.

Lunch with an old friend

Today I met with an old buddy from the MFA program to chat about what's been happening with our lives the past few years and to share writing we had been doing. I took home a fat manuscript (hers) with a promise to comment on it. It was heavy, but I trust it will be interesting, knowing her poems. I haven't seen any of her fiction. This will be the first time I look at it.
Today also a friend in yoga class with whom I trade recommendations for reading lent me her copy of The Inheritance of Loss. I'm also still reading that anthology for Bookies! It's pouring books! But winter break lies ahead, and I plan to make use of it. This year we aren't planning to go any place in particular. I can put together my syllabi for next semester and read and read and read. And write too. Oh, and I promised Marly I'd review her new novel for this very blog, and maybe Amazon too. Haven't gotten it yet though.

Go to the movies

Last night I went to see a film from India, Slumdog Millionaire. It is a sort of documentary fairy tale. Now I know that is paradoxical, but so is India. It is beautiful and wretched, poor and opulent, generous and stingy. It is large and various enough to contain every human thing and some things that are supernatural. It fascinates me. I have been impressed by the art that has come out of India, which is so alien to us and yet alludes to our literature, our film, our art in our language. Because of colonialism, India has taken in our western culture and has grown stronger while we weaken.
This film takes this very topic as its theme. It is a tale about a fated romance between two young orphans. Yes, the plot is very melodramatic and it could have been awful, but it was not. I will not tell you much more, except that the film has everything a film needs to be riveting--beautiful locales, addictive plot, excellent direction. The actors are not so much characters as mediums for the plot, but that too is okay, under the circumstances. It is a broad canvas, but the details are fascinating too. Go see it while you can.
The theater was full full full of Indian families from everywhere, their tiny infants and their elderly. Yet there was not a squeak. I don't know how the parents managed it. Probably they and their children were so hungry to hear their language spoken to see their culture on the screen that they were hypnotized, even the tiny babies.

Huzzah!

We got my mom some shoes. I am relatively sure that they fit and that they are comfortable. If they are not, there aren't any shoes out there that will be because they are lightweight, canvas comfort shoes, and look really spiffy. She says they feel better than any of the other shoes she has tried. I hope she continues in that opinion because I am not doing this again any time soon!

Mom's New Shrink

I took my mom to an appointment with her new psychiatrist this afternoon, quite late, and managed to get totally turned around and lost. After three efforts to find the building, I finally stumbled into the correct office ten minutes late and had to fill out forms. But we eventually spoke to the doctor, and my first impression of him on the telephone was right. He was very nice and very perceptive. Much better than the doctor she was seeing before, whom I found to be cold and uncaring. She didn't like him either, and used to complain that there was no use going to see him, that he didn't do anything. I think she was right. This doctor is actually thinking about what he can do to help her. Some people should not work with elderly people.
Afterwards I took her to a deli to have a sandwich because she is not eating anything except candy and cream cakes. I ordered an enormous hot cornbeef sandwich for her, but she didn't eat it at all, only a couple of bites. Then I had the waitress pack it up and took it home. I was upset because I knew she would eat junk instead, and she did. But I guess at her age, she has the right.
I came home drained and exhausted and just wanted to get away from her and go home. I will just jump into bed and done with it for today.