Denial is not just a river in Egypt. It is the policy at the Katonah-Lewisboro School District

One word sums up my opinion of the school board & administration: COWARDS.

Here is my letter in response to their counsel's letter (posted below). (Their counsel? G-d forbid someone get on the phone or say something in earnest? Don't my taxes pay their salary?)

Feel free to voice your outrage directly to the school board, Mr. Leprine & Dr. Kreutzer:
mlipton@KLSD.LHRIC.ORG, jhharckham@aol.com , wschloat@aol.com , petertreyz.dds@gmail.com, Michael.gordon@klgates.com , CDAY@KLSD.LHRIC.ORG, Peter.breslin@towerswatson.com, pkreutzer@klschools.org and rleprine@klschools.org

To all concerned,

First, I would like to formally voice disappointment to see that Dr. Kreutzer, and the School Board, chose to hide behind counsel as opposed to simply address the matter directly. It would have been one thing to include counsel in the conversation to understand the law, but it is another thing to use the law as a means to get out of having to do what is right. Secondly, you continuously avoid the subject of anti-Semitism with reference to the June 2011 incident, which involved former and (at the time) current students, the allegation of Bella Flannagan who went on the record, my daughter's situation etc. And yet, your very public stance is a zero-tolerance policy.

How is it that your zero-tolerance policy has any validity when you refuse to see what's right in front of you? Even if the anti-Semitic jokes that overheard in the locker room could not be substantiated, the fact that swastikas were painted on a Jewish student's home, the "Welcome to Lewisboro" sign on Route 123 reads "Welcome to Jewishboro," and a student told the press that swastikas are drawn by peers cannot be ignored. Neither can the fact that a 5th grader is scared to attend middle school because you have a principal that has repeatedly chosen to avoid pursuing instances of anti-Semitism until threatened.

And, while you may choose to believe that putting anti-Semitism is quotation marks was not meant as insulting or demeaning, the fact remains that it was. What's even sadder is the fact that rather than apologize for a misunderstanding, you have chosen to defend Mr. Leprine.

While it's wonderful that the District "routinely reviews its curriculum," perhaps it would be best that it compares the curriculum with the actual behavior of its students, as well documented in local and national media. You had students paint swastikas on another student's home. How is that a demonstration of "human rights, civility, citizenship, patriotism and character education?" Yes, perhaps it meets with the bare minimums of the federal and state law, but thatdoesn't mean that it meets with the values you claim to teach. Since when is doing the bare minimum enough? Certainly not for a school district that boasts such high standards.

Would it really be so difficult for the District to acknowledge the fact that there have been incidents reported and to put a special program together to address those needs? Or, at the very least, acknowledge that they are aware that there may be Jewish students who have been made uncomfortable by recent events and to address anti-Semitism on a larger scale?

At no point did I direct Mr. Leprine, or anyone else, to penalize the children involved (save Steve Mangione when he sent that hateful message, because there was no denying who it was, what was said, etc). All that I am asking is that the school recognize that there is an issue, it's been demonstratedand alleged, there are students who do not feel safe to be who they are as Jews, and that the programs brought in may address bullying but not anti-Semitism successfully. Would it be so difficult to contact an organization, which has a long-standing, established reputation and history of educating people of all ages about anti-Semitism and defamation like the Anti-Defamation League? http://regions.adl.org/new-york/programs/no-place-for-hate.html 

Another example? I've had to contact Fran Cortina and the school repeatedly to request that when lunch at JJMS contains pork or milk and meat combined to allow an option that does not contain pork or milk & meat. And yet, has come home without having eaten lunch on several occasions because the cafeteria staff as refused to give him an option. He has not been allowed to swap the meal for a salad, or a sandwich, etc. Is that as black and white as calling him a dirty Jew? No. But does it demonstrate a lack of understanding to what it means to be Jewish and a lack of respect for that? Yes.

Legal counsel has no evidence that the environment in the District is safe for Jews either. How can legal counsel allege that when a student doesn't feel safe? When 5th graders are advising one another not to reveal their identity for fear of antagonism in their current and future schools in the district? When children can paint swastikas on a home and, while the law handled those individual, the District did nothing other than send a paragraph home to educate the student body on why it was wrong?

Lastly, I do not believe for one second that Mr. Leprine's inclusion of quotation marks was to indicate that what I was reporting was an allegation.

The District will have to respond sooner or later to anti-Semitism in our school District. The question is, beyond swastikas, Jewish jokes being told in locker rooms, 5th graders afraid to expose their religion and anti-Semitic graffiti on signs coming into our town, what more will it take to make the District respond? Will it be our ethics and morality that will dictate such action, as it should? Or will it be a more violent act of anti-Semitism? And how many of us Jewish parents have to wait for our children to become the subject of such violence in order to prove to the District that anti-Semitism exists?

I will not stand idly by to wait and see what's next. Once a school district can tolerate swastikas etc and not react, I know what's next.

- Rica Mendes

An open letter to Mr. Richard Leprine, Principal of John Jay Middle School & Dr. Paul Kreutzer, Superintendent of Schools of Katonah-Lewisboro

3/7/2012

Mr. Richard Leprine                            Cc: Dr. Paul Kreutzer

John Jay Middle School                             Katonah-Lewisboro School District

60 North Salem Road                                 P.O. Box 387

Cross River, NY 10518                               Katonah, New York 10536

Mr. Leprine,


It is naive to think that the students who told the joke last month, or participated in the joke-telling, would have admitted to it when asked. It's nice to think that they would, however, it's a rare thing, especially when it is clear that it's being taken seriously. Agreed, *student*  should have reported the incident earlier, but he didn't as he didn't think anyone would do anything about it. Sadly, it has taken a very aggressive pursuit on my end for you to even attempt an investigation.

I wish that the actions of your administration over the course of the past year accurately reflect the claims you make in this letter. You did not take the claim, and in fact, evidence of harassment by last year of a similar nature until I made threats to bring legal action against the school, got the ADL involved, contacted members of the school board, the New York State Educational Department, etc.

As I have stated, and restated, repeatedly over the course of the last year, discipline isn't the only answer. In fact, with the joke telling, I wasn't expecting there to be any disciplinary action against the individual students as, it is clear; it wasn't a student-vs.-student issue, but an environmental one at the middle school.

You have repeatedly defended your curriculum relating to "anti-Semitism" (is there a reason, by the way, that this is in quotes? To put it in quotes is just about as offensive as someone putting "Holocaust" in quotes - you leave the impression that you consider it theoretical and not actual). And I have repeatedly pointed out that you, and these programs, continuously fail with regard to anti-Semitism. I ask how effective could these programs be when you have recent graduates perpetuating hate publicly, repeatedly, and currently. Again, I will point out the reports Bella Flanagan made - that was within one year of graduating JJMS.

Your students do not know what anti-Semitism actually is. Your Jewish students do not feel that they can approach or report anti-Semitism to you or your administration because of your continuous apathy.

The fact that the school district did not hold an assembly immediately following the incident in June of 2011, acknowledging the event, pointing out that it was not only a criminal matter, but a resurgence of a hate so strong that it killed 6,000,000 Jews and many others, and that it would not be tolerated on any level in the school.

I will continue to educate you on this matter: Anti-Semitism is NOT simply "bullying." It is "The belief or behavior hostile toward Jews just because they are Jewish. It may take the form of religious teachings that proclaim the inferiority of Jews, for instance, or political efforts to isolate, oppress, or otherwise injure them. It may also include prejudiced or stereotyped views about Jews." Such as the "fact" that Jews have big noses so they can take in all the free air that they want. Or when swastikas painted on a Jewish home are merely "a prank that went too far" and fodder for "a few Jewish families in our town that love it when they can rip on the middle class families." Aren't you proud, as educators, to see your students, current and former, going on the record with such tolerant views?

I said it on the phone with you, and I'm saying it again. Your educational programs do not address the issue of anti-Semitism. And, if they do, they are simply ineffective. You cannot teach a behavior that is so pervasively evil that it can escalate and cause the death of millions as though it were nothing more than one kid picking on the other. It's institutionalized.

And yet, Michael Gordon claims the district has done, and will do, all that it can to prevent anti-Semitism on-campus! "We have long maintained in our John Jay schools a focus on the evils of intolerance, and we remain committed to maintaining that focus, as education and understanding are the most important tools for fighting that which is symbolized by the swastika. "

But  you're allowing it to continue to be acceptable at your school.

But I'm not going to allow you to continue to white wash the issue, and try and cover yourself by listing all the wonderful organizations you have coming in to educate the kids.

Are you so afraid of the word, or the topic, that you just don't know how to address it in the school system? Are you afraid that bringing the subject up might be too "uncomfortable" for you? I know that was your excuse for not setting up the meeting with Ms. *bully's mother*  last year - because it would have been too "uncomfortable" for the aggressor's mother to meet with the mother of the child who was subjected to her son's anti-Semitic bullying.

Dr. Kreutzer, it is clear to the many people I've consulted, both last year and this year, from members of the Jewish community, the media and government officials, that Mr. Leprine is simply too ill-equipped or unwilling to properly address this issue.

I beseech you to intervene and take proper steps to address anti-Semitism. I have yet to hear from you in this regard since this latest incident.

As I provided Mr. Leprine last year, there are many resources available to the District and the school to address such matters in an effective manner, should the school and the District choose to engage them, starting with the ADL, Young Judaea, etc. A thorough educational program, for both students during the day and families in the event should suffice. And it cannot be another blanketed “bullying” programs. This is a horse of a different color. It is no less hateful, legally or ethically, than anti-gay bashing and anti-black bigotry, which, I’ve repeatedly pointed out to Mr. Leprine and others, would have prompted an immediate response from the school had that occurred.

I look forward to your response with an actual and immediate course of action, and not yet another excuse to turn a blind eye. The school, and the district, has a reputation for ignoring anti-Semitism that this course of inaction is upholding.

It's time for that to change.

- Rica Mendes

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My letter to the School Board:
Subject: Requesting the School Board uphold Mr. Gordon's Promise Published Last Year

Dear members of the School Board,

Before I go on, I would like to remind you of the promise made by Mr. Gordon last year with regards to the ugly incident involving 4 John Jay students:

A Reminder to Remain Vigilant

June 15, 2011

A Message from Katonah Lewisboro Board of Education President, Michael R. Gordon

Recently, local media have reported that a Jewish family living on Elmwood Road in Lewisboro was victimized by four local teens, present and former John Jay students, who allegedly scrawled anti-Semitic graffiti, including swastikas and anti-Semitic slurs, on the family's house and garage. 

These ugly symbols of religious hatred and evil are a sad reminder that intolerance, bias, and bigotry remain in our society, even amidst the safety and comfort of our own educated community. 

Although these vile acts did not occur on school property (vandals did spray-paint high school property the night that the Elmwood Road acts occurred, but the graffiti, while repulsive, was not anti-Semitic in nature), we cannot help but observe that we all must remain vigilant not only against hate, but against hateful expression.  

We have long maintained in our John Jay schools a focus on the evils of intolerance, and we remain committed to maintaining that focus, as education and understanding are the most important tools for fighting that which is symbolized by the swastika.

Last February, months before this incident, my son was the victim of an anti-Semitic slur by a classmate (as I discussed with some of you). I had to threaten legal action and an assault by Jewish organizations on the school, as well as a media blitz against Mr. Leprine, before the school would even address the matter. As I pointed out, that while the slur was put in black and white on Facebook, the fact is that if it were any other bigoted remark, one that was just short of a hate crime, there would have been an assembly in school to address the matter.

I was assured by the school board, and Mr. Leprine that with the new policies being put into place, this wouldn't happen again, that an educational program would address this, and there would be a zero tolerance for this kind of behavior. To say that I was skeptical was an understatement.

Then, this incident took place in June. I went back to Mr. Leprine to ask what he planned to do - and that I presumed that the assembly/educational program explaining what anti-Semitism was, that it wasn't tolerable, etc, would take place. I was told that it was too close to the end of the school year, but to "rest assured" as it was an isolated incident and they were handling it. I offered my resources again, and there was a nibble and a promise that someone would follow up, but no follow up took place. When I called the school over the summer to follow up with my contact, no return phone calls were made.

I began to follow up again in the fall, and I was blamed for the fact that my contact was not in the office.

Then, in December, my daughter, who attends Meadow Pond, was subject to anti-Semitic bullying and advice from a 5th grade peer to "keep it quiet" that she was Jewish, as she'd get picked on at MPES, and see even worse treatment in the Middle School & High School, as her peer's siblings endured. My daughter, now, does not feel safe and has asked me to get her into a Jewish Day School as soon as possible.

Then, this February, almost a year to the day, my son overheard 7th graders telling "Jew Jokes" in the locker room. I reported this to the school as soon as my son told me about it (he hesitated, as he was afraid that it wouldn't go anywhere, again, and I'd just get frustrated). As always, Mr. Leprine denied that such things could occur on campus, and that his "wonderful" anti-Bullying programs addressed anti-Semitism sufficiently.

I, not so politely, pointed out that clearly these programs and policies were not effective, as anti-Semitism was continuing to rear its ugly head just below the surface, and the bulge of anti-Semitism he was deftly sweeping under the rug was getting to high.

He opened an "investigation" which included asking my son to identify the student telling the jokes. What a surprise, when the student was confronted, he denied it. Mr. Leprine then put the burden on *student*  to identify fellow Jewish students who not only experienced anti-Semitism, but to come forward, identify the transgressors, etc. The problem is that these students, many of whom did go to the school at one point or another, no longer wanted to, as it never went anywhere for them before. And, the fact is that anti-Semitism goes beyond bullying - it's a threatening institution that even our government recognizes as hate. It's terrorism.

When  *student* couldn't turn in fellow students, Mr. Leprine, happily, dismissed the inference.

However, I'd like to point out the following:

• Feburary 2011 -   is called a "JEW" by one of his classmates in a rather ominous message on Facebook. (The police could not prosecute as the threat was implied, and there was no direct threat of physical harm.)
• June 2011 - Swastikas are painted on a Jewish family's home by current and past John Jay students
• June 2011 - Bella Flanagan points out, in the press, that she's seen students drawing swastikas at school, and they don't seem to "get it." ("I think it's offensive but those students may not have understood the meaning of the swastika," said Bella Flanagan, a freshman at John Jay. "I've seen people draw them and think it was just a symbol, they don't get what it means.")
• December 2011 - My daughter is bullied on-campus, and advised against disclosing her religious beliefs for fear of bullying and worse
• February 2012 - 7th graders are telling "Jew Jokes" on-campus in the locker room

This is just the experience and observation of one parent in one school year.

You may say that some of this may be in my head and that I'm over-reacting. However, not all of it.

Anti-Semitism is hate. Mr. Gordon made promises on behalf of the school district to protect its students against it. The school district has not, however, been effective in teaching that anti-Semitism is hate and not tolerated on campus. And Mr. Leprine has proven utterly ineffective.

Therefore, I ask you to act, and force the district to put Mr. Gordon's promise into action now. We need to put together an effective program that directly addresses anti-Semitism and makes sure that students, and their families, understand that it is just as hateful and dangerous as the more publicized forms of hate and will not be tolerated in our district. It cannot just be assumed that students know that it is just as wrong as anything else - clearly, they have demonstrated that they don't. I've offered, and will continue to offer, to help facilitate this. But something must be done.

There are 6,000,000 reasons why this cannot be ignored anymore.

Attached is the letter that I'm sending to Mr. Leprine & Dr. Kreutzer. To date, Dr. Kreutzer has yet to respond to any of my correspondence.

- Rica Mendes

10 Years Ago Today...

It had been 2 months since I had my husband served with a restraining order and a friend and police officer removed his belongings and brought them to him at the Vista Fire Department. My son, 3 at the time, and I had fallen into a daily routine. I was 7 months pregnant with my daughter, and working full-time in Norwalk. Zach got his lunch from the refrigerator in our condo at Oakridge while I scrambled to find a pair of shoes that wouldn't pinch my feet. My cat, Daniel, meowed to go outside and join Schmooie, our other cat, for the day. I told him that he'd be out for the day, but he purred and meowed again. I picked him up, gave him a kiss and a hug and let him out. I refreshed the water and food for our third cat, then only a year and a half old, and Zach and I headed to the car. He buckled himself in, and we headed down Route 123.

At around 8:25, we arrived at Zach's nursery school, and I walked him in, gave him a big kiss and a hug. He said, "I love you, Mommy!" and then, leaning towards my belly, he said, "I love you Ariella! Poke the baby!" and he poked my belly. I patted him on the tush as he scooted away with his friends, Milan and Marlin. I toddled back into my car, now around 8:45 am, and I realized I was 15 minutes late for work (I wasn't really late by most standards, but if you arrived any time after my boss arrived, even if only a minute, there was hell to pay). Fortunately, my office was only a couple of blocks away. My boss, however, was viciously strict, and, despite a high-risk pregnancy, would revel in pulling me aside and screaming at me until her face turned red and colleagues would gopher to see what the commotion was.

I buckled in, listening the the rest of the Howard Stern Show, and drove until I pulled into the parking lot. Fortunately, I'd found a spot underneath a large tree not far from the entrance to the building. Just as I was pulling in, Robin Quivers interrupted Howard to say that a plane hit one of the Twin Towers. Though it was almost 8:50 am, and I was now sure that Allison was hovering near my cubicle, waiting to pounce, I stayed in my car. I wasn't leaving the car until I heard the rest of the story. And while Howard and Robin speculated it may have been a pilot who'd lost his bearings, or just a small plane, something in my gut told me it was different. I was getting the same vibe I'd gotten every time I'd heard about a suicide bombing in Israel. As I sat in my car, my left foot out the door, my radio turned up, feeling the calm breeze on my face, I listened to Howard and Robin intently while images of the Sbarro attack, the Dizengoff bus bombing in 1994 which almost claimed an ex, the stabbings of solidiers at bus stops while I'd been living in Jerusalem passed through my mind.

No, I don't care what the newscasters or listeners phoning in reported. This was purposeful. This was terror.

More and more co-workers were pulling into the parking lot, parking, and staying in the car listening to the radio. Some were gathering around one another listening to one person's stereo, others just stayed with the windows open, arm out the window, some smoking a cigarette, others holding their Starbucks out the window.

Moments later, the second plane hit the Towers, and people left their cars and went to their desks. I'd managed to gather all my things while I listened so I could close the door and run in during a commercial break and pick up the broadcast as soon as I got to my desk. As I waddled to the elevator, a stream of names and organizations started running through my head.

Arafat. Hamas. Al Quaeda. Gadaffi. Hussein.

I went to my desk, and ignored the blonde pixie who started to yammer in my ear about how she'd been at her desk for 20 minutes and I still wasn't in the office. I wanted to just stretch my right hand, cover her face and give her a good shove into next week. I said nothing. I mechanically turned on my computer, and, while Windows started up, thoughts ran through my mind.

If I were a terrorist, what would I go after? Ok. I made my impact on the financial center of the world. What else can instill the most fear and terror? Washington. Take out the leaders of the free world. Disney World - it makes sense. It's the happiest place on Earth, embodies American's need for overindulgence, filled with innocent children and families - the most unsuspecting victims, with the most tragic consequences. Chicago - the Sears Tower. The tallest skyscraper in the country, and not in one of the "capitals" of the country. Los Angeles. Take out the promiscuous harlots of celluloid.

As I continued my mental role-playing of where the terrorists would go next in trying to anticipate what's next, I tried to get onto CNN.com. Not surprisingly, the site kept crashing. As did NBC. All conventional news outlets for the Tri-State area were just a mess. Of course - broadcasting would have been affected with the antenna on the Tower damaged!

A reminder on my computer came up - I had to call in for Jury Duty - I'd been so excited about finally being called, and I had to call in! While I tried to find a news source, I dialed the number. But the line was beeping. It was disconnected. Not busy, but disconnected. I couldn't get through. Later, I would learn, the phone line reached an office at Ground Zero, and records for that day were permanently scrambled.

Finally, I tapped into an Israeli website that was streaming live coverage. Co-workers, including a fellow traffic manager whose cousin works in the WTC, gather around my cube, asking me what's happening. I was trying to give them information as it comes in, letting folks come into my cube at watch. Clearly, no work was being done. Spouses were calling one another - many of us had husbands or wives that worked in Connecticut, while the other worked in New York. Many looked relieved when they hung up. Others, panicked when they couldn't get through.

My cell phone rang. I had to do a double take. It was my ex-husband. He called to tell me he was leaving his temp job in Stamford, CT to go with the fire department to help at the Twin Towers. Departments from all over were being called in, anticipating major fire control as well as medical emergencies, and he was heading down. Things were bad between us, but he was still the father of my children. I told him to call me every hour to let me know he was ok. He said that he would, and to let Zach know he loved him. I told him I would.

By then, the Pentagon had been hit, and reports that all flights have been grounded, and an inventory was being taken of remaining flights in air was taking place. Supervisors and HR had told us that we were allowed to go home, if we needed to. Many of us didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to leave. I knew where one baby was, my daughter, and my other was happy at nursery school. I didn't know what panic might be on the roadways. I was still afraid that Stamford might be targeted, because it was home to UBS & RBS and Gen Re's headquarters. Zach was safe. I was safe. And I didn't know what was next.

Could a chemical attack be next from one of the planes still in the air? Biological warfare? No one had claimed responsibility yet. If it was Saddam Hussein, it's not unrealistic to wonder if such an attack could be next. I started putting together a list of all things I had at home in case Zach and I needed to bunker down. I'd need water, but we had a full pantry. I wished we had gas masks readily available as they had been when we were in Israel when Kuwait was invaded (we weren't trained with them, but I knew they were around).

Human Resources announced via email that the conference room was set up with live broadcasts of the situation. Many people went home, but I felt I shouldn't disrupt Zach's day and make him upset before I knew more. I joined my colleagues in the conference room, with my cell phone, and watched. The majority of the broadcast was focused on New York, with occasional shots of the Pentagon. The damage to the Pentagon paled in comparison to the Twin Towers. My phone rang. It was the Red Cross. They wanted to know if I could get to a New York location to donate blood - I am O-negative. I cried when I explained that I couldn't help because I was pregnant, but I wanted to so badly, especially as I watched footage of bloodied men and women leaving the Towers.

We watched the plumes of smoke and then, almost missed with the blink of an eye, one of the Towers disappeared. It fell in on itself. In a strange way, it was beautiful to watch, and horrific at the same time. Visually, without registering that it was a building, with hundreds of people still trapped, it was quite striking. Yet, when you factored the reality of the lives being lost, it was overwhelming. We wept.

And as I sobbed, my daughter kicked, and squirmed, and rolled. I hadn't eaten anything all day. I hadn't had anything to drink. I rubbed my belly, feeling for her feet and hands, and when I found them, I poked them. She reacted. She was safe.

Word came across about a plane crashing in a field in Pennsylvania, supposedly en route to the White House or Congress. Reports were that there were still some flights in the air, but airspace is being closed. I hear from a friend that a mutual friend has a private helicopter and that he is flying around NYC.

I realize it had been quite some time and I hadn't heard from my ex-husband. I call his phone. There's no answer. I call again, and the line is beeping with that same disconnected tone. I call his mother, and she hadn't heard from him. I told her where he was headed. We realize that he had enough time to get to the Towers before the first collapsed. Panic sets in.

I pull a friend aside and tell her that, ironically, I can't stand him, but I'm worried. As we chat, the second Tower collapses. I try him again. And again. And again. And nothing. I call the fire house in Vista, and they say he never showed up there. I call the other department he volunteered with, and they report that, yes, he had arrived, his car is in the lot, and that a couple of crews had headed into New York City. I ask if they'd heard from them, and they said they hadn't yet.

I can't stay at the office anymore. Now, I just want to curl up with my son, my cats, and cuddle on the sofa knowing everyone is safe and in one place. Only a dozen or so people are left. I hug my friends goodbye, and pack up to go home. I call my parents on the way to Zach's nursery school. I tell them we're fine and that I was picking him up.

I drive around the corner, and run up the stairs and through the doors. I bypass the mean teacher who tries to block me as I run to Zach, pick him up, give him a huge hug. I prop him up on my hip, ask one of the teachers to hand me his stuff, and without his feet touching the ground, I carry him and his stuff to the car. I put him down, get his stuff in the car, and I give him another hug. He tells me his guts are coming out of his nose. I laugh, and put him in the car seat and I tell him that I love him. I put an Enya CD on, as I didn't want to listen to the radio and panic him, and we drive home. He tells me about the wonderful day he had, and I smile and tell him how happy I am.

We pull into our parking space at our condo and go inside. Zach starts playing, and I start packing an emergency bag in addition to my delivery bag. I pack up Cheerios, water, formula, raisins, a first aid kit, duct tape, and other items, and set it next to the master bathroom, which would make an ideal safe room.

With my paranoia quelled, I go into the living room where Zach is building blocks, building towers. He'd learned to use the remote control, and had tried to surf the channels. I put it on Nickelodeon and start to make dinner. In my room, however, I have CNN on. I excuse myself every couple of minutes to catch updates - another building had collapsed. No more planes are in the air. Giuliani has spoken to New Yorkers. The mayoral primary would be rescheduled. Death toll ranges from several hundred to several thousand. Emergency rooms and hospitals are completely empty. All that preparation to treat the injured, and no one has come in. Which means that there aren't many survivors.

I came back out to have dinner with Zach. Zach asked why I was acting funny, and why I was disappearing into my bedroom. I explain to him that, though we have nothing to worry about, a terrible thing happened and some planes were flown by some very bad men and they crashed into some buildings. I'd been watching the news in my room. He asked if he could watch, and I told him it was very scary to watch, because they keep showing the scariest parts over and over, but that it was all over now.

He asked to call his father to make sure he was ok. I told him I'd been in touch with his dad, and that he'd let us know when he was home. While Zach went to brush his teeth, I tried to call my ex-husband. No answer. I called his fire department. They had no sign of him. Some of the guys think he was on the truck on the way to New York, but the teams that had gone down had returned. Without him.

He was missing.

I put Zach to bed, and I ran into my room to watch CNN. I was looking for any sign of my ex-husband. I was hoping someone had claimed responsibility. I watched for a couple of hours and then I fell asleep.

At some point, I was awoken by the sound of men's voices coming from the living room. In a panic, I ran, checked Zach's crib. He wasn't there. I ran into the rest of the condo, and I saw a flicker in the living room. It was the television. And Zach, sitting in front of the TV like a scene out of "Poltergeist," watching CNN. I asked him what he was doing. He explained he was looking for his daddy, and that he was afraid that the buildings went "boom" on him. He pointed at all the "toot-toot-woo-woos" (fire trucks) crushed under the rubble. He showed me every fireman in the stills the news was showing that could have been his father. He asked if his daddy could be hiding. I told him to follow me, and we curled up in my bed together, with the news and television off, and slept until morning.

----

It wouldn't be days until I heard from my ex-husband again. He had, indeed, gone to the other fire house to go to New York. However, when he was lounging around waiting for people to head out, the trucks left without him. So, he found a quiet room in the basement and fell asleep there. He then had a friend pick him up and crashed at his place for a few days and then realized he'd forgotten to call us to tell us he never made it to Ground Zero.

That was also the last morning I'd ever see Daniel again. After I let him out for the morning, he never returned. I loved that cat. He was in good health, sweet and loving.

The bigger betrayal?

Faithlessness. Deception. Humiliation. All betrayals.

But absolute, inhumane cruelty is something I never expected of you.

You used to be better than that.

Not long ago, you were better than that.

Are you really that hollow now?

And can you really blame me for that?

I don't know what makes me more angry: The fact that your ire is targeted at me, when I need absolution now so I can be stronger than ever to live on?

Or the fact that you have betrayed not only me, your family, and those around you that you have claimed to love for years, but that you have betrayed yourself.

And perhaps beyond repair.

I may be facing life and death right now, but you're the one I pity.

The Wall

You know it's there. Looming.

Times in your life you gravitate towards it... you charge at it, you are desperate to just climb over and jump off the top.

But it's terrible. It's terrifying.

You have to wonder if what's on the other side is better.

In your own hands, in your own charge, the need to break through and continue on the other side is overwhelming.

But what do you do when you are forced away from the wall? And you are left wandering. And then, when you make your next turn in the open, you find yourself surrounded by the wall?

What do you do when you can't find an opening through? When it's no longer just something horizontal and vertical? Eternal on the horizon?

When happens when it tries to embrace you until the only place you can go is up?

And it's out of your control?

Outrage

When I kept up my MySpace blog, I used to post the occasional rant, not only to blow off the steam, but to find if any of my readers and friends shared similar sentiment. Often, it was fun for them to find others that felt the same way and we all got a laugh.

I'm hardly parent of the year. I mean, I'm not the worst in the world, but I don't foresee myself getting any "Mother of the Year" awards. More often than not, I forget when the kids have special events at school because I hate having to read PTA junk mail to find the important stuff. The kids call me the "Mean Mommy" because I make them the dishes (the deal is I shop & prepare all the meals, they do their share by doing the cleaning), clean their own rooms, bring down their dirty laundry and bring up the clean laundry to put away. I've even been scolded by school administrators over things that that, quite honestly, baffles me that it's even an issue.

If there is ONE thing, however, that I'm uberstrict on is internet use. Yes, I've been accused of being a cyber-exhibitionist, but if you look through the volumes of posts I put out there, not many are THAT personal, or nothing that you couldn't see or ask me about on the street without me answering. But what's NOT out there isn't for good reason. Rarely do I name my children. I certainly don't give my address out. And, if there are any disparaging remarks made about someone else, not only is it well-deserved, but usually a corporate entity or someone whose behavior is so outrageous, it doesn't matter and they've waived the right to privacy.

I am thoroughly intolerant, particularly, to organized, targeted cyber-bullying and posts/comments/etc of such a nature that it will ruin you. Especially when it comes from children that have no business being online. A pet peeve is when kids, especially those in schools that pride themselves on their education levels, is poor grammar, etc. That's annoying enough.

But there is one other issue that gets my blood boiling even more.

It's the stupid, irresponsible, obnoxious, overly-liberal-thinking, naive and, did I mention, stupid parents that do not monitor, police or parent their children's social media accounts and their online behavior. My son's circle of friends has been engaging in abhorrent behavior including bullying, tormenting, cursing, sexually expicit photography, etc. I rarely intervene beyond telling my son to tell his friends to quit it and warning him that the second I see him engaging in that behavior is the end of his Facebook account.

But what about the horrible parents to whom I've reported this behavior? One boy, whose name I won't post here, has been especially obnoxious, including public humiliation of my son as well as me, got so out of hand, I found his mother on Facebook and told her about it. Has the behavior stopped? No. It's escalated against dozens of children. Has she extended the minimal courtesy of a response? No.

And, because they aren't "Friends" on Facebook, I can't report it!

UGH!

Deserving

It's all relative.

Degrees of transgression. Malice versus encouragement.
Love and hate.
That fine line we are all afraid to tread and tremble as we approach, forced or by choice.

On your side, you see it crossed. On mine, I'm still on the right side.

But reality is about perception.
And I saw your side.
I see your side.

And now, I'm on your side. Pointing at me. Hating me.

At the same time I cower and cry and beg for mercy and forgiveness,
I stand along you, stoning me, casting me out.

I'm not deserving, yet, am I?

I hurt you that much that I still deserve this, don't I?

You didn't deserve to hurt this way.

But what's the threshold, now?
The sentence is over, now.
Or did you forget?

I turn to see if you are still ready to throw the next stone,
but you're gone.

I go to the chambers, and the judge isn't there.
I seek the jury, and there is none.

I'll throw the stones in your absence, but tell me...

When am I deserving enough for your return?

UPDATED: For once, it's not for LIVESTRONG...

Ok. There is no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it and put it out there.

My children were turned down for scholarship funds for summer camp this year. Now, of course the "easy" solution is to say, "Sorry kids, no camp for you."

The reality is, however, I had to acquiesce and stop sending them to their day school of 4 years, just as they were really getting into a "groove," making lasting friendships, etc, because I couldn't afford to send them without scholarship, and their places were given away. We had to take a pass on birthday parties for the past year because of the added expense that wasn't in the budget. More often than I should, I have to say "no" to them when they ask for simple, little things like a package of Silly Bandz, a new toy, or a new outfit. We aren't members of any congregations, nor can I send the kids to Hebrew School because, you guessed it, we simply don't have the money.

But the one thing, the one thing I was not going to deny my children was summer camp. It is the only place that my son is fully confident. (And the transition to public school, to a standard classroom, to then being diagnosed after months of agonizing failure with ADD, and then being put into yet another classroom setting, has not been kind to him. And my daughter? If it weren't for her evergreen spirit, she'd be just as miserable. And, even with her amazing strength, she still breaks down about missing her old school, being with other Jewish kids and her friends.)

The news that we were denied scholarship - not a cent - is especially devastating, as I was given that information less than a week ago - with less than 3 weeks until the first day of camp. I'm desperately scrambling to come up with the funds.

I'm taking a page out of my LIVESTRONG notebook, here, and I'm going to throw out a challenge - to myself. I can contribute $2,000 towards the $6,500 tuition owed by June 23, 2010.

I am willing to ride my bike, even with my sprained back (right and left sacreiliac ligaments are sprained, requiring cortisone shots every other week into each side), for 48 hours straight. That should be a couple, if not a few, hundred miles. If I get permission from work to take off to do it, I will begin on my birthday, Sunday, June 20 after I'm done at work and ride straight through to Tuesday, June 22, the day before I have to take the kids to camp. That is, of course, I enough people are willing to help contribute towards the kids' camp tuition.

I won't take checks directly - I don't want people to make the checks out to my name, and think this is some kind of get rich quick scheme. Checks in any amount should be made out to and sent to BY JUNE 22:

Camp Young Judaea Sprout Lake
50 West 58th Street
New York, NY 10019

 Or you can call  212-451-6233 and ask for Jessica - she will accept a credit card payment over the phone.

Just, please, be VERY CLEAR that the money is to go towards Zachary and Ariella Mendes' tuition accounts. (Also, leave a comment or contact me directly to let me know so I can alert the camp.)

If I had more time, I'd do more myself. I'd put together a Mary Kay Sale. But I don't have time. This is the only thing that I can think to do, especially while I try and find some organization to help. I will tell you, before you ask if I've gone to the UJF Federation, I have. I've gone to JewishCamp.org. I've tried to reach the Masons. I've gone to my local Hadassah Region. I've appealed to National YJ & Hadassah. I've contacted Jewish Family Services. I've either been turned down by all of them, referred to one from the other, or they have already dispersed all the scholarship money.

If you have new suggestions, please let me know. But, given the time crunch, I've been advised this may be the best route to do it.

Please pass this onto any interested parties. The good news is, for those of a philanthropic nature, there will be no question that the money is going to go directly to benefit 2, young, Jewish and deserving children whose gratitude will be tremendous. (And, you'll help one mom, who is working 2 jobs doing her best to provide what little she can for her kids, and trying to show them that charity starts at home, teaching them how to be good people, involving them in charity work with Young Judaea and LIVESTRONG, and that they can do anything.)

Thank you!

6/21/2010: P.S. A couple of messages came to me asking what I've done to fix it, etc, it's easy to complain but not do anything about a situation and just "beg". For those who don't already know, in addition to my LIVESTRONG fundraising efforts (which you can follow on my other blog), I've been working very hard for the past year and a half to create a Young Judaea alumni organization to address some of the issues within the movement, and, ironically, fundraise for scholarship funds that are lacking, establish funds to help "fill in the gaps" for families when the scholarship funds aren't enough, as well as provide programming year round for alumni and assist members of YJ when there aren't staff members around to help mentor, program and staff events and other such initiatives. I'm not a cup-in-hand beggar. I get hands-on and try and do what I can, when I can.

BTW, the bike-a-thon is going to have to be modified. Between work hours and my back, I can't ride as I'd hoped. That being said, I will be riding. I can promise you that. If the kids can be dropped off as hoped Wednesday morning, I will try to ride from the moment I get back from dropping the kids off until 10pm (including a mountain-bike ride in Pound Ridge). I will get that 48-hours done as soon as possible, it just may not be consecutive days and spread out.

10:00 pm UPDATE:

In response to an exchange with Jessica at the office, and, after not receiving word on scholarship until mid-June - and email follow ups when I received invoices with the "final balance" with responses from the camp saying that the balance didn't reflect scholarship and that I could wait until the scholarship decision was made, I received this email, sent by the camp at 8:22 pm:

Dear Ms. Mendes,

This letter is meant to inform you that neither of your children, Zachary Mendes-Barry and Ariela Mendes-Barry, have been successfully registered for the summer 2010 season at Camp Young Judaea Sprout Lake (“Camp”).  According to Camp’s policies, which  can be found in the Parent’s Guide published on April 22, 2010, all payments were due in full on May 15, 2010 and all forms had to have been completed, signed and submitted by May 15, 2010.  As of June 21, 2010, Camp has yet to receive full payment or the required forms for either Zachary or Ariela. 

In order to enable your children to participate, Camp is willing to make a onetime exception for you and extend the deadline for your full payment and completed forms till 12:00pm tomorrow, Tuesday, June 22, 2010.  If full payment and all the completed forms (including current insurance and prescription coverage) for both Zachary and Ariela are not submitted by that time, please be aware that you and your children will not be permitted past the front camp gate on opening day, Wednesday, June 23, 2010.  Please note that Camp intends to take all necessary actions to enforce its policies.

Your current balance is $4,245.  Please contact our New York office in order to pay this balance and submit all forms at (212) 451-6233 by noon tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Alecia Sachs

Hadassah National Camps Chair

Helene Drobenare, M.A., MS.W.

Camp Director

Camp Young Judaea Sprout Lake

O-

Universal donor
Ever present, available and willing
Value of none
Further, negative nothing
Anti-A, Anti-B
A misfit
Unrecognized by immunity
Invisible
Harmless to all, but all are lethal
To nothing
Less than 4% in the world
Fading
One of a kind
No compatible partners but oneself

Agreeable, sociable, optimistic
Vain and rude
Responsible, decisive, organized, objective, rule-conscious, and practical
Inbred
Must avoid pleasure-releasing substance
Self-punishment is the answer

Dairy makes me sentimental
I must keep in motion at all times
Vigorously
Draining but mandatory
Torn to extremes
Vulnerable
Ulcer-prone
Nutrition must be limited and out of the norm
Cut out, avoid, cut out, don't approach, cut out

Anyone and everyone can drain me
It's my duly
Obligation
If I don't, it follows me

I am the archetype
Insufficient of life-dependent everything

Water Cooler

This morning, as I was pulling up to work, traffic was backed up. Across the street, I saw fire trucks, police cars, a couple of emergency services trucks - all with lights gleaming, and no sirens. Up ahead, I saw an electrical repair truck with a cherry picker. I assumed that there was some kind of electrical outage or tree down - something that required emergency repair.

However, as I got closer, I noticed that the fire trucks had black and purple swags draped on the sides. And officers from different civic services in dress uniform.

A funeral.

Across the street from my office building is a funeral home. But I hadn't heard of any local fires or any rescue situations where a firefighter might have been killed, nor had I heard of any notables passing away in their old age.

I parked my car, and spoke to the security guard, asking her, who always knows the scoop, what was going on. She said it was the fireman that killed himself over the weekend. He was 30 and popular and full of life.

"What could make someone like that do such a thing?"

I nodded and said, "Yeah," and went to the elevator bank to go upstairs.

Perhaps too knowingly, I know the answer, at least in part. The security guard will never understand what could make someone "like that" do such a thing. A hero. Someone surrounded by success in a noble profession. An artist who can express himself so beautifully - surely he sees beauty in the world!

Yes, inevitably, there would have been people in his profession that he'd encountered that wouldn't make it - that would die in the fire or accident or whatever situation to which he responded. And those cases would scar him. But, would it be enough to make him hang himself?

And is being surrounded by, and even actively engaged in, positivity enough to make one think differently?

No.

I went to this young man's website. Not his Facebook, not the memorial guest book. I went to his art portfolio site. And, yes, there were murals of Spiderman and other wonderful things for schoolchildren and the community. That was all facade.

I looked at his portraits. The longing in the subjects eyes. That, in every face he captured, either on film or canvas, there was confusion. A sense of being lost. In his abstracts, there was ordered chaos, with one color line that stood out, as though it were trying to rise above to rest to find an answer, but it just got entwined in the tangle in the end.

I don't have to know him to be able to see that, yes, there clearly was something that would make him do this. I don't expect her, or most of the people in his positive bubble, to be able to see it. Or understand it.

But I get it. And it's not because he was sick. It's not because he never said anything. It's that the circles around him wouldn't see it. Look at his artwork, and ask 10 people what they see. Each will see something different. The question is, who sees what he meant you to see? Who can hear what he's trying to say, not what you want to hear? I look at his artwork, and I see several years of a single message. Yes, it's beautiful. Yes, they are portraits of other people. But the exact moment he captured, the expression, direction of their pupils, etc, that's the key 10 out of 10 people won't pick up.

Call it a gift, call it a curse, but it's the first thing I see.

He was saying "what would make him do such a thing" for as long as he was painting.

But no one was listening.

Held Out

on hold
time out
left behind
hung out
held up
hung up
pulled back
pushed out
out cast
left out
hold out
out placed
cast out

There are a few of my favorite things...

Gemini

Constant conflict.
Both sides are always right, both are always wrong.
Lean one way, and you lean with the weight of the world.
Lean the other, and you can't keep your ground.

Constantly searching.
A separation.
Magnet, drawing in, trying to click and find the other half.
A matchless sock.

Constant expectations.
Proud public face.
Dynamic, influential, inspiring.
Follow me.

Constant turmoil.
Always searching.
Always off-balance.
Dark, tumultuous heart
hidden from view at all times.

Ecstatic and exuberant
and
simultaneously
Brooding and macabre.

Constant confusion.
No one knows what to do with you.
You don't know how to explain.
As you try and speak and express
you silence and stifle yourself.

So tired, ready to sleep.
But so energetic, ready to go.

Push and pull.
Crash and burn.

Get it together.

Naked raisins

Upon chit-chatting with a friend in Holland, the topic of traveling one another's country came up. She is coming to the United States in the spring, and I gave her the following advice, bearing the most recent screening approaches we're adopting in mind, "Just don't wear any shoes, underwear, bras, clothing, liquids... coming into the US, I'd dehydrate myself like a naked raisin."

I said it with snarky sarcasm, but then I got to thinking... that really is what we're going to be reduced to. As I tweeted the other day, the one positive thing about this is that there will be no question about what a "normal" body type will be in this country. The naked body scans may very well quell the fears of girls all over the world with body dysmorphic disorder. We'll see all the undergarments used to pull in people's guts, reduce their thighs, boost their boobs, enlarge junk in various trunks. There will be no hiding that we don't all have airbrushed bodies like on the cover of "Sports Illustrated" and, try as we might to pass ourselves off as their competition, we're all just as lumpy and dumpy as the next one.

Of course, I really hope that's the case. Because if it's not, then I'm going to feel like a potato.

I am surrounded by amazing people

I really am. When I think about the diseases, the illnesses, the strife and struggles of so many people in my circle, I'm amazed at how much they have survived. They are pillars of strength. Beacons of their family. Some have faced death straight on, and by the grace of God, their family, and all they had in them, beat odds and walked away. Has life been easy for them after? No. (Why should it have been?) But they go on. They inspire.

They amaze me.

Does anyone have any concept of how impossible it is to be surrounded by such people? And, yet, at the same time, impossible to walk away? To not want to be in their midst? But to know you are simply too small to be there?

By comparison, it seems like what is enough to just make me throw up my hands and scream, "Uncle!" is so ridiculously miniscule compared to what these incredible people have gone through. What kind of a shallow, discontented monster am I to be ready to throw the towel in over something so inconsequential in comparison!

I'm a selfish rube.

I'm told to appreciate what I have. But how can you appreciate what you have when it's not what brings you joy? It's like giving chocolate to a drowning man. Yes, chocolate is incredible. And most people would be ecstatic to be handed a box of chocolate. But the man is drowning. What the hell is he going to do with chocolate? No matter how high the quality?

There are days, like today, when I am clearly not worthy to be in the presence of these people. I am completely undeserving. I'm a stupid, pratty peon.

I wish there were a way I could transfer what they see as valuable to them. They'll appreciate it far more than I ever will.

What 2009 taught me...

1. Just because you are related by blood, you are not family. In fact, good reason to sever any and all ties.
2. Trust no one. Least of all your feet.
   
3. When your gut tells you it's safe, it's not.
   
4. Go back to 1992. Do not leave. Whatever you do.

Fini.

18 is supposed to be for life...

18 years ago, right now, give or take a minute, a bottle of Western Loganberry Clearly Canadian sparkling water fell out of my hands and onto the Commons floor. 18 years ago, right now, I was wearing a cranberry sweater, white turtleneck, favorite pair of jeans, my "shit-kicker" army boots, my black trenchcoat, a black backback, a burgundy hand-tooled leather purse, hair pulled back and still damp, but I felt naked and raw surrounded by a room full of people staring at me, watching my every move. Making sure I was breathing. For a moment, I wasn't. For a moment, my heart stopped.

18 years ago was the last time I could sing "Silent Night" without crying.

18 years ago was the last time Christmas carols were beautiful to me.

18 years and 1 day ago, I had my last conversation with him. And the last words that escaped my mouth were said in anger, but felt with love.

18 years ago, I had to tell my closest friends, aside from him, that he was gone. I'd become a verbal pall bearer.

18 years ago was a day that was supposed to be the highlight of high school for me. It was supposed to be the biggest event of my senior year - bigger, to me, than prom or graduation.

18 years ago was the last day that I thought snow was beautiful.

18... 18... 18... this doesn't add up. 18 is supposed to be for life.

Encouraged or Discouraged

On my other blog, ricalivestrong.blogspot.com, I'm chronicling my efforts as a LIVESTRONG Leader and LIVESTRONG Challenge particpant aiming for the Ride For The Roses. (What is the "Ride For the Roses"? From the LIVESTRONG website: What is Ride for the Roses Weekend?
Ride for the Roses Weekend is a celebration of LIVESTRONG's most enthusiastic supporters. Team LIVESTRONG participants who raise a minimum fundraising level of $10,000 by October 1 at 9 a.m. CST are invited participate in Ride for the Roses Weekend (held in conjunction with LIVESTRONG Challenge Austin) October 22-24, 2010) Why am I shooting for the Ride For the Roses? Two very good reasons. First, I want to raise as much money as possible for a charity I believe in. But, secondly, it's the only way that I can afford to attend. I can't afford the airfare, nor can I afford the hotel.

To make things even more "interesting," my son has decided to join me. Which means that he, too, would need to qualify in order for us to afford the practicality of participating in the Austin Challenge.

Through an AMAZING turn of events, a fellow (and far more established blogger, Eldon "Fat Cyclist" Nelson), wrote a humorous letter to Johan Bruyneel, the Team Director for Lance's new Team RadioShack, requesting consideration as a new team member. Johan responded, with what seemed to be a near impossible feat - to raise $25,000 for LIVESTRONG and $25,000 for the World Bicycle Relief in less than a week. Fat Cyclist did it in less than 3 days. $50,000+ raised in less than 3 days.

Don't get me wrong - I am NOT begrudging him his victory. Not one bit.

But, my goodness. How amazing would it be for me to be able to do that? To be able to tell my son (and daughter, who'd be coming with my comp-guest pass (she's not riding, therefore, she wouldn't need to earn her own Ride for the Roses incentive), that we could take it easy for the rest of the year?

Epiphany

For years, I've wondered about the notion of "only the good die young". In my life, I've known amazingly good people who have died too young. (One of whom, I'll be remembering very soon on December 15.)

Why is it that the "bad" outlast the good? And how do we know if there is a hell?

I think I figured it out.

The "good" die young to leave the "bad" behind. And hell is having to live out life without their presence. Hell isn't fire and brimstone and demons and pointy tails. It's the constant questions of "why them and not me?" It's "what's wrong with me, that they never stay?" "If I'm so great, so amazing, so strong, why am I always the one left behind? What did I do wrong and how can I fix it?"

The fact that those answers are never given is hell. You will die never having those answers.

That's the definition of hell.

Who knew that one of my favorite blonde jokes would, indeed, be my greatest undoing...

"How do you keep a blonde in suspense?"

Kristallnacht: Night of Broken Glass

There's a story in my family about my grandfather. Memory doesn't serve me on whether or not it, in fact, took place on Kristallnacht, or I always think about it around Kristallnacht because of the imagery. Either way, it's one that I always think of today. But I don't think it's ever been put down. So I'm doing that today.

My grandfather's name was Baruch Wasser. Most people, however, knew him as Bernard Wasser. In all the pictures I've seen of him, he reminds me of Telly Savalas, only with a softer expression in his face. I'm not sure he ever had hair. He had eyebrows, that I can see. He was born in Prussia, and raised in an Orthodox family. He was a talmudic scholar, and part of a very loving family. In his early adolescence, however, the Russian armies were forcibly inducting young boys, Jewish boys, into the army. It was certain death and, despite the implications of what it meant, his father sent him away, knowing it was likely neither would see each other, or speak, again. And, so it was.

My grandfather ended up working on my grandmother's family estate. They were a very wealthy, well-respected, non-Jewish German family. My grandmother was an athlete. She was a horseback rider, and was on the Olympic gymnastics team. She was slated to win gold for Germany, and, knowing her and her determination, she would have, had she not dropped out in protest of Hitler turning that year's Olympic games into a propaganda opportunity.

My grandfather, and grandmother, became part of the resistance. There are many stories about how they, together and independently, worked against the Nazi regime. Let's leave it at the point where my grandfather was being actively sought after by the Gestapo.

He had, eventually, begun a business in the textile industry in Berlin, and had a small apartment. Many of his colleagues and clients, Jewish and non-Jewish were, in fact, assisting him with the resistance. And, unanimously, they all loved my grandfather, as he was an exceptionally kind man.

By this time, my grandfather still had very high regard for the level of observance he was raised with, but he wasn't actively Orthodox. The times weren't conducive to it. It was also a safe presumption that, at this stage in his life, his father had long passed away.

One night, in the middle of the night, my father was awoken by a figure at the foot of his bed. He looked up, and it was his father, shaking him, in yiddish, telling him, "Baruch," to go to shul. "Get up, get your talit and tefillin, and GO TO SHUL."

"But, it's the middle of the night!" Why he was arguing with the ghost of his father in the middle of the night telling him to get up and go to shul, I couldn't tell you, but he resisted, and ultimately listened. He took his talit, his tefillin, and went to the closest synnagogue. Of course, this was breaking curfew, and risking his life to go to a Jewish synnagogue, but, when your dead father comes back to tell you to do something, no matter how resistant you were at the beginning, you do it.

He went, recited the Shacharit service, and went back to his apartment. Well, almost...

As my grandfather approached his apartment building, one of his friends ran out, grabbed him, and pulled him into an alley, embracing him, as though he, himself, had seen a ghost.

"Bernard! Oh, Bernard! Thank goodness! You're alive!!!!"

"Yes... of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You mean, you don't know? You didn't run?"

"Run? Run from what?"

"Bernard! The Gestapo just raided your apartment! Get out of here!! RUN!"

And, so he did.

The Web Site Manager/Project Manager's Prayer

Our Webmaster who art in Heaven,
Hallowed by thy URL and Twitter Handle,
Thy cyberspace come,
My will be done,
Online and IRL.

Give us, this day, our coffee intravenously,
And punish all those around us severely for their trespass,
As we will forever curse at them that trespass against us and our processes.

Lead us straight into temptation,
And deliver us from our inherent, yet witty, evil.

For thine is the Kingdom of Bug-free pages, non-existent typos, and glorious user-experience,
Forever and ever.

ISP On High, grant me the serenity,
To accept changes that I have demanded be changed,
Courage not to strangle those that mangle my requirements and copy and all things are must be changed,
And the wisdom to know the difference between competent and incompetent vendors and freelancers.

And let us say, AMEN!