There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to make requests and a time to demand a hearing,
a time to hold my tongue and a time to rage.
There is a time for everything,
“If you’re voting for Hillary, unfriend me now.”
I’ve read this more than once while scrolling through my news feed. I try not to take it too seriously, but it’s still a little hurtful. The truth is, I don’t know if I’ll vote for Hillary Clinton. I don’t fall neatly into one political camp, although I do tend to lean decidedly left of center. But the fact that we might disagree about politics doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear about your new baby or that crazy thing that happened to you at work yesterday. It also doesn’t stop me from wanting to hear your point of view. Read More →
In the summer of 2015, I was five years old and gearing up for first grade. I had been looking forward to orientation for weeks, and I couldn’t wait to meet my new teacher and see my classroom. As luck would have it, I came down with a fever a few days before my orientation, and a sore throat crept in on its heels. The day of my scheduled orientation, I woke up with a fever of 102 degrees, severe pain in my throat, and a painful cough. Read More →
I see burning cars and smashed windows accompanied by the words “dirty animals.” I see peaceful protesters holding up signs that read, “Black Lives Matter.” Thanks to the age of social media, this is a time for everyone to say what we really think…to see who we really are. Camps are formed, and wagons are circled. The name Freddie Gray is on our lips, and Baltimore is moving to the steps of the same dance that we watched in Ferguson, Missouri when we spoke of Michael Brown. Steps that we practiced again in New York when we spoke of Eric Garner. The rhythm of this dance has been beating in the heart of our nation for the decades since the Civil Rights movement, and since the age of slavery before that. It has been beating in the heart of humanity for the centuries and millennia during which differences in race and ideology have given us cause to fear each other.
When I was a child, my father once brought me to the temple for Passover. For two days, we walked the dusty roads to Jerusalem, choking on the clouds kicked up by camels and donkeys as caravan after caravan passed us. Many others walked with us, with scarves wrapped over their faces, and eyes squinting to keep out the dust.
My feet hurt. I could feel the blisters start to form on the first day, and when I peeled off my sandals by the light of the fire that night, they were raw and bleeding. My eyes stung with tears at the thought putting those sandals back on in the morning. Father said nothing about the blisters, or my misty eyes, but he poured a few drops of our precious drinking water onto a cloth and gently washed my feet. The pain was almost more than I could bare, but I have never loved my father more; I have never felt his love for me more. Read More →
Today I woke up at 5 am to take Yohannes to the airport, and then came home and went back to sleep because I had a fever.
I woke up again a little while later with two little children running and jumping on my bed. I fed them breakfast, (graciously made by Solger) and then went back to sleep because I had a fever.
In my fevered sleep, I dreamt that we lived in an apartment complex with the Obamas and the cast of Boyhood. Read More →
I have nothing new to say about the deaths of Michael Brown or Eric Garner that hasn’t already cycled through your newsfeed a dozen times. But I’ve seen a lot of push-back about “race-bating” and “playing the race card”. Some people want to know why these two cases have garnered such a firestorm of media attention and popular protest when there are plenty of cases of unarmed white people being killed by police and of white people being killed by black people, and I think that deserves a response. Read More →
If a tree falls in a forest
And no one hears it
Does it make a sound?
If a tree succumbs
To six sharp swings
From the lumberjack’s axe,
If it crashes to the ground
With such great force
That it shakes a whole nation,
If the earth beneath the tree
From the impact of its fall,
If it groans and screams
Like broken branches
And torn limbs,
If the sound it makes
Like the songs of slaves,
Does it make a sound?
Take out your goddamn earplugs.
A few months ago Yohannes and I went to the Bahamas for a work conference. I was especially excited, because the last time he went, the conference was on a Caribbean cruise and I didn’t get to go.
It was a four day trip and we left the kids with my parents [insert lots of anxiety here]. The longest I’d ever been away from them was overnight, so this was huge. Aside from the almost $200 we accidentally spent on international phone calls (read ALL the instructions on the phone card!), and a whole lot of mom-guilt, it went very well.
On the first day of the conference, I went back to our room shortly before the keynote speaker began his address. Yohannes stayed. I heard later that the speaker was quite good, but I think I’m generally too cynical to appreciate a good motivational speech, and I didn’t want my uncontrollable tendency to whisper snarky comments to diminish anyone else’s enjoyment. (“Achieve World Peace In 10 Easy Steps.” How conveniently simple.) Read More →