I haven't written here in 10 months, but I'm so ecstatic today, so proud to be American. I never thought I'd write or say those words. Watching the returns last night with my parents, watching all the faces in the crowds in Chicago, Atlanta, New York... I commented on how it was the first time I felt like I saw people on TV and LOVED them, felt connected with them in the anticipation and hope, and then the incredible joy and, heck, incredulity. We did it! My father spent many days this month canvassing in Pennsylvania, so when it went Obama he felt a direct sense of pride. When Obama referenced Lincoln so beautifully in his speech, talking about the original ideals of the *Republican* party, my father broke down. It was so beautiful to share the moment with him, and with my mom. It's always been something of a personal legend, how my dad worked in Wisconsin and Iowa for Gene Mccarthy in 1968, but in my own lifetime I hadn't seen him so fired up about politics. This July 4, I had a great conversation with my friend Sol's father Richard. We talked about the HBO John Adams movie, which we'd both recently seen. I said that what struck me about it was how back then, politics were the science of things that so directly affected people's lives. I felt like it wasn't so true now. Richard vehemently disagreed, and proved me wrong with so many examples. Maybe it's irrational, but it really feels like things could get better for each of us personally. Maybe we'll have to pay more taxes, and dramatic improvements won't happen overnight right now. But this feeling like our president is going to ask us to help each other, and make sacrifices to make our country better, it makes me feel like we're all so much more connected than we were even a day ago. I took a run this morning with Lupe, and everyone I saw, I felt like, we're in this together. Of course, it's Jersey City. I'm sure, like, 110% of us around here voted for Obama. Whatever. We did it.
The best text-message I got last night was from my friend Katya: Yes we did.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
So I'm kind of an Oscars junky. Which is ironic considering I see, maybe, one movie a year in the theater. I just looked up this year's nominations, and got such a very very cool surprise: Beaufort, on whose soundtrack the ICSQ, my old quartet, played, is in the list for best Foreign. It's the first Israeli film since 1984 to be nominated. Apparently it's really good. I hope the nomination means it will be released in some more theaters in the states...
Here's the website for Beaufort (called Bufor in Hebraicized English. I could list a lot more words that get transformed in double, or reverse translation. Love it)
Here's the website for Beaufort (called Bufor in Hebraicized English. I could list a lot more words that get transformed in double, or reverse translation. Love it)
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
the golden age
How did this become uncool? Tap dancing, singing, hot outfits... I'm gonna learn this for next Halloween.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
I know I haven't written for ages. I'm really just writing this for myself. But I'm so angry at this Op-Ed piece by Gloria Steinem, and I can't figure out how to comment directly to it, so here I am at my own corner of the rant-and-rave universe.
Gloria Steinem has always been a hero for me, but what she wrote today was so narrow and bitter, and seemed directed just at people like me. She started off her opinion piece by saying that a woman who had Barack Obama's life could never make it to where he was. What kind of statement is that? Who, looking at Obama's life story, would predict that he himself could make it to where he is? The whole mystery about him, the whole thing that's making Clinton supporters freak out, is that completely undefinable quantity and quality: charisma. On top of that, Clinton just doesn't inspire people to think she could really make anything different, considering what she's already done and who she's connected to. I know it's not fair. I've wanted a woman in the White House my entire life. But I hear stories of things happening elsewhere in the world: of the things government is capable of. Actual rehabilitation in prisons. A fairer share of resources and wealth. Government support for its national culture, aka arts and education!!! Obama isn't the only candidate I could see somehow making those things happen here. I bet Kucinich would do a lot more, and Richardson too. But not Clinton. And that doesn't make me any less of a feminist. It makes me so so pissed that someone like Steinem would suggest that. I don't vote with my vagina. I vote with my brain.
It's this sentence in particular that makes my blood boil:
But what worries me is that he is seen as unifying by his race while she is seen as divisive by her sex.
Followed by this a few sentences later:
What worries me is that some women, perhaps especially younger ones, hope to deny or escape the sexual caste system; thus Iowa women over 50 and 60, who disproportionately supported Senator Clinton, proved once again that women are the one group that grows more radical with age.
Grrrrrrrrrrr.
Supporting Clinton makes you more radical because she's a lady??? Do you know how much I loved Geraldine Ferraro when I was a little girl because of the historic importance of her candidacy? I was five. I drew pictures of brides and grooms with the brides literally 4 times larger than the grooms. Then the groom's top hat would threaten to compete with the bride's height, and I'd give the bride an extra headdress just so she would tower over him even more. So now I'm a total subservient, pregnant-in-the-kitchen, housewifey, non-feminist because I don't support Clinton? Her policies are fine. She's been a good Senator. But I'd rather be idealistic, and vote for someone I actually want in the White House, who I could actually imagine maybe, possibly turning things upside-down, at least the things that need to get flipped.
I was touched when I saw the footage of Clinton getting emotional. The primaries are f*cking brutal, and anyone would be spent and wrecked by that much travel and exertion. She obviously wants to be president and was bummed when Iowa dissed her. That doesn't mean I'm going to vote for her. I knew she was human before. It's not like I'm like, "OMG! She's real!"
Anyway.
Apparently Obama is appearing at a rally in Jersey City tomorrow. He's like, Jersey City's a must-win, I'm going there straight after NH!!! I don't think I can make it, but I'd like to. Hearing Howard Dean speak 4 years ago was a goosebump-filled experience. I got all over that bandwagon, writing letters etc. Then super disilliusioned when the whole country tossed him out because of an improper scream. So it goes in the U S and A. Gotta be smooth to win. I got enthusiastic and idealistic again this time around. It's cool that Clinton won NH. But remarks like this from her: "his free ride's got to end sometime," and this piece by Steinem bring up the question that was in my mind after Dean's rise promise proved a fantasy, after I felt like fool for getting involved in his campaign: is it worth it?
Gloria Steinem has always been a hero for me, but what she wrote today was so narrow and bitter, and seemed directed just at people like me. She started off her opinion piece by saying that a woman who had Barack Obama's life could never make it to where he was. What kind of statement is that? Who, looking at Obama's life story, would predict that he himself could make it to where he is? The whole mystery about him, the whole thing that's making Clinton supporters freak out, is that completely undefinable quantity and quality: charisma. On top of that, Clinton just doesn't inspire people to think she could really make anything different, considering what she's already done and who she's connected to. I know it's not fair. I've wanted a woman in the White House my entire life. But I hear stories of things happening elsewhere in the world: of the things government is capable of. Actual rehabilitation in prisons. A fairer share of resources and wealth. Government support for its national culture, aka arts and education!!! Obama isn't the only candidate I could see somehow making those things happen here. I bet Kucinich would do a lot more, and Richardson too. But not Clinton. And that doesn't make me any less of a feminist. It makes me so so pissed that someone like Steinem would suggest that. I don't vote with my vagina. I vote with my brain.
It's this sentence in particular that makes my blood boil:
But what worries me is that he is seen as unifying by his race while she is seen as divisive by her sex.
Followed by this a few sentences later:
What worries me is that some women, perhaps especially younger ones, hope to deny or escape the sexual caste system; thus Iowa women over 50 and 60, who disproportionately supported Senator Clinton, proved once again that women are the one group that grows more radical with age.
Grrrrrrrrrrr.
Supporting Clinton makes you more radical because she's a lady??? Do you know how much I loved Geraldine Ferraro when I was a little girl because of the historic importance of her candidacy? I was five. I drew pictures of brides and grooms with the brides literally 4 times larger than the grooms. Then the groom's top hat would threaten to compete with the bride's height, and I'd give the bride an extra headdress just so she would tower over him even more. So now I'm a total subservient, pregnant-in-the-kitchen, housewifey, non-feminist because I don't support Clinton? Her policies are fine. She's been a good Senator. But I'd rather be idealistic, and vote for someone I actually want in the White House, who I could actually imagine maybe, possibly turning things upside-down, at least the things that need to get flipped.
I was touched when I saw the footage of Clinton getting emotional. The primaries are f*cking brutal, and anyone would be spent and wrecked by that much travel and exertion. She obviously wants to be president and was bummed when Iowa dissed her. That doesn't mean I'm going to vote for her. I knew she was human before. It's not like I'm like, "OMG! She's real!"
Anyway.
Apparently Obama is appearing at a rally in Jersey City tomorrow. He's like, Jersey City's a must-win, I'm going there straight after NH!!! I don't think I can make it, but I'd like to. Hearing Howard Dean speak 4 years ago was a goosebump-filled experience. I got all over that bandwagon, writing letters etc. Then super disilliusioned when the whole country tossed him out because of an improper scream. So it goes in the U S and A. Gotta be smooth to win. I got enthusiastic and idealistic again this time around. It's cool that Clinton won NH. But remarks like this from her: "his free ride's got to end sometime," and this piece by Steinem bring up the question that was in my mind after Dean's rise promise proved a fantasy, after I felt like fool for getting involved in his campaign: is it worth it?
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Oh my gosh, this is getting so meta. I just realized I could maybe submit a writing sample from this thing with my DMA applications! And now I'm writing about said submission ON this weird outlet that I feel funny about. I've felt about communicating on blogger sort of like how I feel about my myspace and facebook "friends:" it just makes me feel bad for not picking up a pen and paper, or phone, or, for that matter, good old-fashioned email! And now it's going to substitute for scholarly research as well! My head's about to explode. Am I the laziest person on earth? I mean, I'm sure I could find an old paper somewhere. But then I couldn't even scan it in-- I'd have to type it out into the computer for these online applications! See, I'm being encouraged to do it this way. Or my sloth is, anyway.
BTW, Christopher read me a great Thomas Pynchon piece on sloth. I like assignments that have to do with the seven deadly sins. They seem to be tremendously fruitful and inspirational topics.
BTW, Christopher read me a great Thomas Pynchon piece on sloth. I like assignments that have to do with the seven deadly sins. They seem to be tremendously fruitful and inspirational topics.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
summer fun
After all these serious posts, and now that it's (finally) starting to get cold, I thought I'd put up some pics from the summer. That's Christopher balancing on the guardrail on the beutiful road to our house in the Catskills. The tubing shot is from the farm belonging to the family of our friends Peter and David (shown, so classy with the glass of wine!), near Oneonta. And the lovely blonde angels in the blue crab and on the boat are my nieces Samantha and Haley. They have an amazing trampoline.
Jewish-Christian dialog about Israel
I started writing this in response to a posting by Rabbi Arthur Waskow on the National Havurah Committee listserve. But once it started getting a bit lengthy for an email, I decided to put it up here so I wouldn't clog folks' inboxes.
Rabbi Waskow wrote about being invited to speak at a conference at Boston's Old South Church titled "The Apartheid Paradigm: Issues of Justice and Equality." The title is obviously problematic for the Jewish community, and especially Jewish officialdom. Waskow is clear about the differences between the two! Anyway, he was invited to speak after two other "representatives of Jewish officialdom" pulled out in protest. They were objecting to the presence of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who has compared the Middle-East conflict to South African Apartheid, and the involvement of Sabeel, a Palestinian human rights group that calls itself an "ecumenical grassroots liberation theology movement among Palestinian Christians."
(***Right now I'm reading Tracy Kidder's "Mountains Beyond Mountains" about the amazing, super-hero Doctor Paul Farmer, and his work with impoverished communities in Haiti and elsewhere. Farmer is inspired by liberation theology, and I've become inspired myself, albeit not in a Christian way! Check out the helpful Wikipedia definition of the philosophy.***)
Anyway, if you like, you can read Rabbi Waskow's full account here. The following is my response.
When I think of American Christian relations with Israel, it's usually the Right-wing/Evangelical devotion, financial and otherwise. It's problematic, especially when I heard that a lot of the money for Nefesh B'Nefesh, which helped fund my Aliyah, came from such Evangelical groups. I can't understand why the Boston Jewish "officialdom" would reject the opportunity to engage a large and progressive Protestant congregation on this issue, especially when the conference in question (and its problematic title) demands a Jewish response. Just what is so controversial about Sabeel? Their call for refugee return? It seems like a perfectly understandable position for a Palestinian human rights group to take, even if it may not be tenable if-- I mean, when!!-- a treaty or agreement between Israel and the Palestinians is forged. I've been aware of the difficulty of Israel's "Right of Return" for Jews since I befriended a Palestinian German many years ago at a music festival. Both his grandmothers lived in the Palestinian territories, yet he had never been himself. "You can go anytime you like," he said to me, not unkindly, but with a kind of wistful smile. In that context, I can understand this statement of Sabeel's on their website:
"Israel's 'Law of Return' which allows any Jewish person to immigrate to Israel while denying Palestinians the right of return to their homeland is immoral and discriminatory."
My only disagreement with Rabbi Waskow is with the statement he suggests Boston's Jewish officialdom should have made in response to the conference:
"And we think it important to point out that applying liberation theology and all the vivid rhetoric about Jesus' crucifixion raises deep dangers in the Israel-Palestine context, strikes a deep nerve of Jewish pain from centuries when Christian charges that the Jews killed Christ, killed God, led to rivers of shed Jewish blood."
I have to say, I don't quite get this. From the little I've read about liberation theology, it seems like a perfect jumping-off point for dialog between Christians and Jews. For me, social justice is one of the defining ideals of Judaism. I don't see anything about liberation theology that suggests the charges that the Jews killed Christ. Is there something I'm missing?
Living in Israel didn't do anything to simplify my feelings about the conflict. I heard the boom of a suicide bomb not far away from me, and the resulting symphony of sirens. I understand the Israeli reliance on the military, and the instinct to keep as far away from "those people" as possible. I rarely saw on Israeli news what life was like on the other side of the Wall (oops, sorry. I mean, the Fence!) even though it was going on less than 15 miles away from where I was living. But American Jews can't keep being so afraid to criticize Israel, and can't keep going on pretending Palestinians brought this upon themselves. Israelis criticize Israel all the time!! Honestly, I feel like our fear of real engagement with the problems of the Occupation and Settlements actually divides the two communities (American Jewish and Israeli) more than if we spoke freely about our concerns. Also, it makes us look hypocritical if we take stands on human rights issues all over the world, and look the other way instead of facing the reality and repercussions of Israel's policies.
Families stage interventions to help each other. I'm not saying we should, or can, do anything like that. What would an intervention look like anyway, especially if we don't believe in military solutions to human rights issues? But criticism is healthy. And admitting to "outsiders," i.e. Christians or- gasp!- Muslims that we, too, see these issues, which are so clear to everyone else in the world, does not mean we aren't committed to Israel's future.
Rabbi Waskow wrote about being invited to speak at a conference at Boston's Old South Church titled "The Apartheid Paradigm: Issues of Justice and Equality." The title is obviously problematic for the Jewish community, and especially Jewish officialdom. Waskow is clear about the differences between the two! Anyway, he was invited to speak after two other "representatives of Jewish officialdom" pulled out in protest. They were objecting to the presence of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who has compared the Middle-East conflict to South African Apartheid, and the involvement of Sabeel, a Palestinian human rights group that calls itself an "ecumenical grassroots liberation theology movement among Palestinian Christians."
(***Right now I'm reading Tracy Kidder's "Mountains Beyond Mountains" about the amazing, super-hero Doctor Paul Farmer, and his work with impoverished communities in Haiti and elsewhere. Farmer is inspired by liberation theology, and I've become inspired myself, albeit not in a Christian way! Check out the helpful Wikipedia definition of the philosophy.***)
Anyway, if you like, you can read Rabbi Waskow's full account here. The following is my response.
When I think of American Christian relations with Israel, it's usually the Right-wing/Evangelical devotion, financial and otherwise. It's problematic, especially when I heard that a lot of the money for Nefesh B'Nefesh, which helped fund my Aliyah, came from such Evangelical groups. I can't understand why the Boston Jewish "officialdom" would reject the opportunity to engage a large and progressive Protestant congregation on this issue, especially when the conference in question (and its problematic title) demands a Jewish response. Just what is so controversial about Sabeel? Their call for refugee return? It seems like a perfectly understandable position for a Palestinian human rights group to take, even if it may not be tenable if-- I mean, when!!-- a treaty or agreement between Israel and the Palestinians is forged. I've been aware of the difficulty of Israel's "Right of Return" for Jews since I befriended a Palestinian German many years ago at a music festival. Both his grandmothers lived in the Palestinian territories, yet he had never been himself. "You can go anytime you like," he said to me, not unkindly, but with a kind of wistful smile. In that context, I can understand this statement of Sabeel's on their website:
"Israel's 'Law of Return' which allows any Jewish person to immigrate to Israel while denying Palestinians the right of return to their homeland is immoral and discriminatory."
My only disagreement with Rabbi Waskow is with the statement he suggests Boston's Jewish officialdom should have made in response to the conference:
"And we think it important to point out that applying liberation theology and all the vivid rhetoric about Jesus' crucifixion raises deep dangers in the Israel-Palestine context, strikes a deep nerve of Jewish pain from centuries when Christian charges that the Jews killed Christ, killed God, led to rivers of shed Jewish blood."
I have to say, I don't quite get this. From the little I've read about liberation theology, it seems like a perfect jumping-off point for dialog between Christians and Jews. For me, social justice is one of the defining ideals of Judaism. I don't see anything about liberation theology that suggests the charges that the Jews killed Christ. Is there something I'm missing?
Living in Israel didn't do anything to simplify my feelings about the conflict. I heard the boom of a suicide bomb not far away from me, and the resulting symphony of sirens. I understand the Israeli reliance on the military, and the instinct to keep as far away from "those people" as possible. I rarely saw on Israeli news what life was like on the other side of the Wall (oops, sorry. I mean, the Fence!) even though it was going on less than 15 miles away from where I was living. But American Jews can't keep being so afraid to criticize Israel, and can't keep going on pretending Palestinians brought this upon themselves. Israelis criticize Israel all the time!! Honestly, I feel like our fear of real engagement with the problems of the Occupation and Settlements actually divides the two communities (American Jewish and Israeli) more than if we spoke freely about our concerns. Also, it makes us look hypocritical if we take stands on human rights issues all over the world, and look the other way instead of facing the reality and repercussions of Israel's policies.
Families stage interventions to help each other. I'm not saying we should, or can, do anything like that. What would an intervention look like anyway, especially if we don't believe in military solutions to human rights issues? But criticism is healthy. And admitting to "outsiders," i.e. Christians or- gasp!- Muslims that we, too, see these issues, which are so clear to everyone else in the world, does not mean we aren't committed to Israel's future.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
In memoriam Rudolph Hazucha
The transition's hit me. I feel like I'm going through jet lag now, after having been back for more than four months. I remember that number, because right after I got back, I was a sucker and bought one of those salon package specials a guy tried to sell me outside the subway. Haircut, manicure, "hand massage" blah blah blah. I went for the haircut, but of course, after she tried to sell me a fortune's worth of crap and get me to dye my hair, and after she only very reluctantly, rolling her eyes, cut the bangs I was asking for (which I like very much, thank you) I thought, maybe I wouldn't get such a good hand massage here. Anyway, the thing was valid for four months, and I kept trying to use it as incentive to stop biting my nails: that I could get a manicure. But I didn't. And four months are up.
Come to think of it, that story sounds like something that could have happened in Tel Aviv.
Anyway, I don't know why I expected that with a new teaching job- where I've somehow convinced people I could lead orchestra! (Gosh, I hope none of my students are reading this. If so, um, hi! Go practice!) and with being back in the freelance pool, and starting to try- I mean trying to start- my own non-profit... that I could STOP biting my nails.
Things are really good, though. So much has happened and passed that I wanted to write about. Discovering the "Freaks and Geeks" DVDs (it's embarrassing that's the first thing that came to mind), getting really into practicing solo stuff again... Our trip to California for Christopher's brother Bryan's wedding was incredible. I got to spend good time with Christopher's friends and family, and met some wild, super interesting people. He and our niece and nephew and I went out for an 8:30 AM canoe trip our first morning there. Christopher and Riley were rowing in the front and back, Chloe and I were passengers in the middle, all of us in a straight line. Chloe wanted to paddle, so Riley handed her his oar. A few seconds later we were all in the water, and the canoe was upside-down. That's all we know. We tried digging for answers, but there seemed to be none, just shrugs. The wedding was at Lake Zaca, north of Santa Barbara, which is, we were told, the only natural lake in California besides Lake Tahoe. Is that true? And, we were told, no one has ever found the bottom, it's so deep. AND Al Capone "disappeared" some slot machines there in the 30's, or alcohol during Prohibition, or something. AND Keith Richards swam in it. So you can imagine, we were nervous having taken Riley and Chloe out and dunked them into the middle of the bottomless lake, and their grandparents were on the shore, watching. Luckily, the water was warm, and their Dad and Grandpa rowed another canoe out to rescue us. Chloe held on to one side of it, and Riley and I on the other, me trying not to freak out that Riley was starting to shiver all over. Their grandpa and I started singing to boost the morale. I started "Hokey Pokey," which got Riley singing, and "Always look on the Bright Side of Life," whistling and all. David sang "Old Man River." He had a beautiful voice! Poor Christopher stayed in the middle and made sure our canoe didn't sink. They went back and got him after they dropped us at the shore. Since our cabins didn't have hot water (they later turned it on) Olya ran a bath for me an Chloe in her cabin, and Bryan ran a bath for Riley and Christopher in his. So Chloe and I got a sneak peek at the 3 red linen dresses, a traditional Russian wedding gown in pieces I guessed, that would be worn in layers by Olya, later at the ceremony. Bryan, for his part, wore a Scottish dress outfit, with white lace spilling all over the place, and big funny wool socks.
Something about that story just made me think of this great title one of Christopher's students gave to an essay about her summer. It was called "I Was Swimming."
I love that.
I'm dropping off, and there's a gorgeous heavy rain coming down outside that's distracting me. I just had to put this link in for an interesting article about musical blogs in the New Yorker. The best part about it was that it led me to a beautiful http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifdescription of the experience of playing Messiaen's "Quartet for the End of Time" by the pianist Jeremy Denk. That's one of those pieces, like Beethoven piano trios, that makes me angry at the composer for not writing a viola part.
AND I had to pay my respects to a great man. The man who founded "Rudy Hazucha's Suzuki Kazoo School." He also did a lot of other great things, like starting the Suzuki camp I went to in Virginia for nine (!) years. But what I remember best is how at every final concert, there would be a performance by Rudy Hazucha's Suzuki Kazoo School. We all had to play a Suzuki song on kazoo. The faculty got so into it, that was the best part. That camp was so so so so so so fun. It's far away, so I don't get to give it props the way I do Third Street all the time. But I want to get Suzuki-certified, or have a baby quick and make it play Suzuki, just so I have an excuse to go back there. The institute was only a week, but it took several days (or what felt like it to me at the time) to get there. My mom and dad and I would drive through Pennsylvania Dutch country, or down the Maryland coast, and through the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah Park to get there. And then the week would feel like a month, so much would happen, but it also would be over before you knew it. We'd always do fiddling. One year MR. Hazucha brought Jay Ungar down, and we played "Ashokan Farewell" (which was later the theme song to the PBS Civil War documentary).
I feel funny eulogizing someone I didn't know very well. I was one of (what felt to me like) thousands of other kids there. And Mr. Hazucha definitely scared me; he was a disciplinarian, and we all had violins so we just wanted to make noise all the time. Boy, do I feel his pain now! It's Karma, or something, that now I'm the one saying "you practice at home. Here we play together." But Mr. Hazucha also had a charismatic and warm sense of humor. And that place, that institute, was his baby, and he brought the most wonderful teachers, teachers I still remember with a lot of love. It's good to be reminded of how much there is to aim for, how much you can maybe do from the front of the room.
There's a nice profile of Rudolph Hazucha here.
Come to think of it, that story sounds like something that could have happened in Tel Aviv.
Anyway, I don't know why I expected that with a new teaching job- where I've somehow convinced people I could lead orchestra! (Gosh, I hope none of my students are reading this. If so, um, hi! Go practice!) and with being back in the freelance pool, and starting to try- I mean trying to start- my own non-profit... that I could STOP biting my nails.
Things are really good, though. So much has happened and passed that I wanted to write about. Discovering the "Freaks and Geeks" DVDs (it's embarrassing that's the first thing that came to mind), getting really into practicing solo stuff again... Our trip to California for Christopher's brother Bryan's wedding was incredible. I got to spend good time with Christopher's friends and family, and met some wild, super interesting people. He and our niece and nephew and I went out for an 8:30 AM canoe trip our first morning there. Christopher and Riley were rowing in the front and back, Chloe and I were passengers in the middle, all of us in a straight line. Chloe wanted to paddle, so Riley handed her his oar. A few seconds later we were all in the water, and the canoe was upside-down. That's all we know. We tried digging for answers, but there seemed to be none, just shrugs. The wedding was at Lake Zaca, north of Santa Barbara, which is, we were told, the only natural lake in California besides Lake Tahoe. Is that true? And, we were told, no one has ever found the bottom, it's so deep. AND Al Capone "disappeared" some slot machines there in the 30's, or alcohol during Prohibition, or something. AND Keith Richards swam in it. So you can imagine, we were nervous having taken Riley and Chloe out and dunked them into the middle of the bottomless lake, and their grandparents were on the shore, watching. Luckily, the water was warm, and their Dad and Grandpa rowed another canoe out to rescue us. Chloe held on to one side of it, and Riley and I on the other, me trying not to freak out that Riley was starting to shiver all over. Their grandpa and I started singing to boost the morale. I started "Hokey Pokey," which got Riley singing, and "Always look on the Bright Side of Life," whistling and all. David sang "Old Man River." He had a beautiful voice! Poor Christopher stayed in the middle and made sure our canoe didn't sink. They went back and got him after they dropped us at the shore. Since our cabins didn't have hot water (they later turned it on) Olya ran a bath for me an Chloe in her cabin, and Bryan ran a bath for Riley and Christopher in his. So Chloe and I got a sneak peek at the 3 red linen dresses, a traditional Russian wedding gown in pieces I guessed, that would be worn in layers by Olya, later at the ceremony. Bryan, for his part, wore a Scottish dress outfit, with white lace spilling all over the place, and big funny wool socks.
Something about that story just made me think of this great title one of Christopher's students gave to an essay about her summer. It was called "I Was Swimming."
I love that.
I'm dropping off, and there's a gorgeous heavy rain coming down outside that's distracting me. I just had to put this link in for an interesting article about musical blogs in the New Yorker. The best part about it was that it led me to a beautiful http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifdescription of the experience of playing Messiaen's "Quartet for the End of Time" by the pianist Jeremy Denk. That's one of those pieces, like Beethoven piano trios, that makes me angry at the composer for not writing a viola part.
AND I had to pay my respects to a great man. The man who founded "Rudy Hazucha's Suzuki Kazoo School." He also did a lot of other great things, like starting the Suzuki camp I went to in Virginia for nine (!) years. But what I remember best is how at every final concert, there would be a performance by Rudy Hazucha's Suzuki Kazoo School. We all had to play a Suzuki song on kazoo. The faculty got so into it, that was the best part. That camp was so so so so so so fun. It's far away, so I don't get to give it props the way I do Third Street all the time. But I want to get Suzuki-certified, or have a baby quick and make it play Suzuki, just so I have an excuse to go back there. The institute was only a week, but it took several days (or what felt like it to me at the time) to get there. My mom and dad and I would drive through Pennsylvania Dutch country, or down the Maryland coast, and through the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah Park to get there. And then the week would feel like a month, so much would happen, but it also would be over before you knew it. We'd always do fiddling. One year MR. Hazucha brought Jay Ungar down, and we played "Ashokan Farewell" (which was later the theme song to the PBS Civil War documentary).
I feel funny eulogizing someone I didn't know very well. I was one of (what felt to me like) thousands of other kids there. And Mr. Hazucha definitely scared me; he was a disciplinarian, and we all had violins so we just wanted to make noise all the time. Boy, do I feel his pain now! It's Karma, or something, that now I'm the one saying "you practice at home. Here we play together." But Mr. Hazucha also had a charismatic and warm sense of humor. And that place, that institute, was his baby, and he brought the most wonderful teachers, teachers I still remember with a lot of love. It's good to be reminded of how much there is to aim for, how much you can maybe do from the front of the room.
There's a nice profile of Rudolph Hazucha here.
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