Kindness

Mitzvot: At the heart of halakhah is the unchangeable 613 mitzvot that G-d gave to the Jewish people in the Torah (the first five books of the Bible). The word "mitzvah" means "commandment." In its strictest sense, it refers only to commandments instituted in the Torah; however, the word is commonly used in a more generic sense to include all of the laws, practices and customs of halakhah, and is often used in an even more loose way to refer to any good deed.

Over the last couple of weeks, I have not been well. The chemotherapy finally caught up with me and when it did it kicked my ass. Repeatedly. I ended up having my chemotherapy suspended while my body regains the high ground and I am up to another round. They will be changing my program to something I should tolerate better, but for now a reprieve.

During this time, my friends have been out in force, making sure that if I needed anything, they were there to jump in. I thanked one of my friends one evening for her kindness and she said that in fact she should be thanking me for allowing her to help. She mentioned the concept of mitzvot which I wasn't totally familiar with. I looked it up and found the definition listed above. I was surprised, not because of the philosophy, but in that it so closely mirrored my own concept of what it means to be a good person. Many times in my life people have prevented me from helping them or offering support because they kept their troubles from me. In some cases, they even kept their happiness from me and didn't allow me to celebrate it with them. In every case I felt injured. Their reasons were usually noble; "I didn't want you to worry" or "I didn't want you to feel sad" or other reasons, but I still felt robbed of the opportunity to be of service. Since then, I have tried to make sure that my friends are all given the opportunity to help me in any way they can. It is for them as much as for me. This was not exactly how I was raised. We were taught to be self sufficient and to look at offers of help as somehow being suspect; "What do they want in return". No sense being a pawn about it, but if someone I trust wants to help me in some way, I would be a poor friend if I would not allow it.

Miztvot: I may be more Jewish than I suspect.

Fighting Shadows

"Put this in any liquid thing you will,

And drink it off;

and, if you had the strength Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight".

-Romeo and Juliet Act V

It was a cold, rainy November morning when I first started drinking the poison.

It wasn’t so bad, not at first. I felt mostly normal. Two days later the poison visited its first pangs. I felt like death. How could I do this? How could I continue doing this? How would I function? Will it get worse? Better? Stay the same? Sweet, sweet poison that will kill that part of me that has rebelled and gone off on its own, determined to be itself. Hopefully enough of me will survive to carry out the judgment when the rebel has surrendered. I will show no mercy. I cannot.

When it is weak and vulnerable, I will come at it in the dark, with my bright lights blazing and my gleaming knives out sharp and ready, to cast it from me and declare that this territory is defended and will not accept the rebel, ever.

It is all I can do.

Now, I drink again.

-thoughts on Chemotherapy

Born On the Fourth Of July (part II)

I was born on the Fourth of July. Technically, this makes me a cancer.

How ironic is that.

For those of you who may not have already heard, I have been diagnosed with colon cancer. Not content to remain in one place, the cancer has sent out a scouting party to my liver.

I have only recently become aware of this rebellion, and have not entirely decided how I feel about this. I have decided that it "sucks" and "sucks hard" at the very least. Chemotherapy starts this next week and I have that to look forward to. I am trying to remain positive, but truely, this sucks. I might have thought that having heart disease was enough for one person, but now fate has dealt me this challenge to deal with as well. Not fair. I quit smoking in 1982. I stopped eating meat in 2005. I have not been especially good about exercising and staying fit (bad me). So I am a little angry right now.

My friends are stellar. Everyone has been immensely supportive. Already the food has begun arriving. Nothing says "I love you and care about you" like food, except maybe saying "I love you and care about you" which they have done as well.

I am sure I will have more to say as I come to grips with this. Right now, it sucks. I can't stress that enough. I am not happy about this. I hope to be a little more eloquent in the coming days.

Thanks everyone for their good thoughts.

-Richard

Frankenstein

The theater group I work with is performing Frankenstein this weekend and I will not be there. They are performing next weekend as well and I may not be there then either.

This is seriously weird.

For the past 10+ years, if there was a show, I was there. Working the lights, running the sound, stage managing, house managing, emergency managing, mentoring, running for coffee, whatever. Even the year I had heart surgery I managed to participate. I did manage to participate this time around, don't get me wrong. I worked on building lighting and setting up the tech area prior to the show, but I have never missed working most, if not all, of the performances. I feel strange, but it is probably for the best. The new parents that have stepped in to take over the jobs I usually do are doing remarkably by all accounts. The program, something I have done exclusively since the first season, looks great. I have always said that the greatest compliment you can give someone is to trust enough to let them have their shot at things and not assume you are the only one capable of meeting the challenges. That is especially true when you are working with young people. So, after last nights performance, I got the email reports of how the show went and I was very proud to hear that the tech crew got kudos for a good job. I was kind of rooting for them.

The parent liasion (whom I think of as the producer/stage manager) is remarkable. This is her first time out as far as I know, and she has organized "everything". If you work in theater, then you know what a blessing someone like that is. I hope we can keep her for many years.

The acid test is tonight; the director will not be there. In many theater groups, the director is finished after the dress rehearsals are done, but with a youth theater, especially ours, the director usually calls the show, with help from the stage manager. This is due in part to the fact that all of our crew are volunteers, no one except the director is 100% familiar with all of the entrances, exits and cues. So tonight the rubber meets the road and the stage manager and the tech crew will be running the whole show on their own.

This is also a good thing. A scary thing, but a good thing.

We are dependant on our regulars and if they are not available we are uncomfortable. It is good to stretch ourselves like this. I will be waiting to hear how tonights show went. I have every confidence that it will turn out well.

This would be an excellent spot to put some pun-nish Frankenstein reference to "creating a new life from the old" but I would never do something that corny. It will be enough to say that the "creature" which we call Michigan Youth Theater is ALIVE.

Haunted Howses

I had a new experience this week. My son and I participated in the building of a haunted house at the county fairgrounds. Not something I ever pictured myself doing, but hey, it's for a good cause, and our theater group makes a few bucks, so I went. This was not rocket science. It wasn't any kind of science for that matter. We were given a diagram of the maze that we were going to assemble from 4x8 flats and 2x4s, cordless drills and cut loose. I teamed up with a couple of guys that were already started and looked like they knew what they were doing. My son found some of his buddies and teamed up with them. Occasionally the designers would walk up and make suggestions or corrections and surprisingly, it didn't go too badly. There were a couple of times we all stood around scratching our heads and staring at the diagram going "No that can't be right", and sought out one of the organizers, but mostly it went together as planned. By 4pm, all of the walls were up and they were starting to string electrical for the "spooky" effects they have planned. That's when we headed out. There were lots of volunteers and not enough jobs left for that day. I have never really been a big fan of haunted houses, so I probably won't be back to see the finished product, but then I never thought I'd build one, so who knows. If you are into that sort of thing, check it out on the Oakland County Fairgrounds in Davisburg MI website for times. It helps the community and puts much needed dollars in the coffers of the nonprofits participating. So maybe I'll see you there. Boo!

May I Have This Dance?

previously published in Ponderings (1998)

It has come to my attention that the Tango is dead. Not a startling revelation, as I have never tangoed in my life, but I was surprised. My daughter Megan is taking several dance classes, and one day last week as we were driving to the ballroom dance class, she told me that they were not going to learn to Tango. Now, I can't begin to imagine 13-15 year olds tangoing in the first place, but I was curious as to why they chose to leave this one dance out. Megan informed me that her instructor felt that the only place people tangoed anymore was in the classroom and there was little chance that they would ever need to know it. That caught my ear. When exactly did one need to know any of these dances? So as we discussed these possibilities, we agreed that all dancing, whether practical or not, serves to encourage grace, develop strength and promote balance. All good qualities. But I thought, except for professional dancers, most of the dances are not usually performed in ordinary settings. Oh sure, the occasional waltz or polka turns up in most ordinary wedding receptions, but what about ballet? I can just see it. Scene I: Right after the Chicken Dance and the Hokey Pokey, the band breaks into a rousing rendition of Swan Lake and everyone in attendance jumps to their feet, pulls toe shoes and tights out of their purses and coats, and before you know it, it's pirouettes everywhere. Maybe if a ballerina is getting married and all of her troupe are in the bridal party, but otherwise I can't see it happening. Clogging is another example. Clogging, as far as I know, is limited to competitions and ethnic festivals. Now don't get me wrong. I know several fine people who are cloggers. Scene II: Your sweetheart calls you up on the phone and the conversation goes like this: "Whattya say you and I grab our clogging shoes, head downtown, and clog the night away!" “Oh, you mad, clogging fool!! Come right over!” Nope. Never happens. So Megan is learning the classic ballroom dances that she might actually be called upon to use at some point in her life. But her other class is learning Scottish Highland dancing. I couldn't see this as having a practical application either. Scene III: A lavish Parisian gala. An elegant young lady (bearing a striking resemblance to Megan) is approached by a handsome young man. He leans over and whispers in her ear, "Care to Highland Fling? I'm sure Emile' and the orchestra have brought their 'pipes tonight; for you, my darling." Megan was not amused. As I said, we agreed that all dancing helps encourage grace, develop strength, and promote balance. We could all use more of those qualities. So I guess I’d better brush up on my Chicken Dance. My Hokey Pokey needs some work too.

Pizza of the Gods

I like pizza. My wife likes pizza. My daughter likes pizza. My son adores pizza. For him, pizza is a staple food. His food pyramid is basically pizza, followed by cheese, followed by pepperoni, followed by bread. This he washes down with plenty of ice chai tea lattes. So you could say that we are a pizza family and my son is a pizza gourmand and caffeine freak. A few weeks ago we went to an Italian restaurant (soft "i", no "eye"talians here) that my wife and I used to frequent pre-children and that my son had never been to. He loved their pizza. Thin crust, plenty of cheese, generous pepperoni; he was in heaven. So, when it came time to order pizza for a get-together at our house this week, we all immediately thought of the new place. (Luigi's for those of you in the Flint MI area). I called in the order and asked for three large pizzas and then I called my friend who was coming over to visit and asked if he could pick them up on his way over and I would pay him back when he arrived. No problem he assured me. So that was how it went. A little while later he and others showed up, he had the pizzas and everything was going as planned. I thought the pizza boxes looked a little large, but really paid no attention. "How much do I owe you?" I asked. He gave me the receipt and I couldn't believe my eyes. $64? Wow! That was some expensive pizza. Then I turned around and really looked at the boxes. They were huge. I'm thinking pizzas the size of car tires. I opened the box and the pizzas were square. They filled the entire box. They covered my entire dining room table, with the extensions pulled out. Needless to say we all got a good laugh out of this, and we had enough pizza to send some home with everyone. And my son has enough pepperoni pizza to last him at least a day or two. Next time mediums. I hope those are only merely huge. Bon apetit!