I Saw You At Tashlich

Ran into two bloggers at Tashlich. Ok, I didn't actually speak with them, but I did recognize TG and his lovely lady.

Had I not been chasing children I might have said howdy. Maybe next time.

Best of The Jewish Blogosphere- Humphrey Bogart Edition

My friend Robert enjoys providing Haveil Havalim with a new title. Each week we can depend on him to provide the rewrite and some Hollywood trivia. Today I decided to beat him to it with a tribute to one of my favorite actors, Humphrey Bogart.

Bogart made a number of excellent films that I could quote. But I'll go for the old standby and give you a couple of quotes from Casablanca which is easily in my top five favorite movies.

Captain Renault: What in heaven's name brought you to Casablanca?
Rick: My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Captain Renault: The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.
Rick: I was misinformed.

and

Rick: Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing: you're getting on that plane with Victor where you belong.

Ilsa: But, Richard, no, I... I...
Rick: Now, you've got to listen to me! You have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine chances out of ten, we'd both wind up in a concentration camp. Isn't that true, Louie?
Captain Renault: I'm afraid Major Strasser would insist.
Ilsa: You're saying this only to make me go.
Rick: I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.
Ilsa: But what about us?
Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.
Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you.
Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that. Now, now... Here's looking at you kid.

Go check out Soccer Dad's latest edition. It is chock full of good posts.

Perfect Pushups

If you click here you can see my latest purchase. I have had them for a couple of weeks. They work beautifully.

The goal is to get to a point where I can do a 100 a night. It is not out of the question. When I was younger I used to do 6 sets of 25 each day. Three in the morning and three in the evening. It has been a while since those days.

But I figure that within three months I can be back there. Once I hit the mark the plan is to keep it up for the rest of my life.

Ok, it is time to try and get some shut eye. More can be found on that in the post below this one.

Another Night In Which Sleep Is a Dream

I am told that my snoring can wake the dead. My children take great pleasure in trying to imitate it. It is kind of fun to watch/listen to them do it. I am told that my snoring is so loud my neighbors wear earplugs. I am told that my snoring could be used to torture prisoners with sleep deprivation.

What I want to know is why I can't sleep. Actually I can answer that question. Too many things on my mind. Too many concerns, too many worries, too much waiting time. When I have things hanging over me I get a little crazy. I like to tackle them head on. Let me find out what is going on sooner than later.

If I was coaching a football team my style on defense is to blitz the hell out of the opposing team's offense. I want that quarterback to be on his back or worried that he is about to be put on his butt. On offense I want to wear out the defense with a punishing running attack interspersed with a precision passing game.

Next week is Yom Kippur. I am not ready. I am not ready. I am not ready. Ok, I am ready but I am anxious. I get this way sometimes. I have this sick feeling that someone I know is going to die. I don't have any inside information. The people that I know that are sick are in the same condition as before. They could die anytime or go on for a while. Who knows.

At a little past midnight I thought that I saw someone looking in my bedroom window. I alternated between being scared silly and enraged. Don't come to my house. Don't invite my wrath because at midnight that is what you get. Went outside and patrolled the outside of my home. Didn't find anyone, but noticed a few bootprints by a window. They could be mine or my gardener. I probably didn't see anything.

But you can imagine that this revved my engine. It is part of why I am still awake. Working hard on trying to turn my mind off, or at least slow it down for a moment.

Spent a few minutes watching my daughter sleep. I sat in the middle of the room and listened to her breathe. Stood up and brushed her hair out of her face. Kissed her forehead and promised that daddy will always be there to protect and watch over her. Felt a dose of fierce love and regret that one day she'll be too big for me to do this with her.

She must have known I was there, because she muttered I love you too and reached out to hug me. I am still looking for the pieces of my heart because I know that some of them fell out of my chest.

Life as a soccer coach has been fun. Working hard on teaching the boys to remember that this is a game and that the primary directive is to have fun. Spent all sorts of time teaching my son to stay in front of the ball. At this age not many kids are good enough to get by players who can do that. It is a good lesson. They learn that defense makes a huge difference and they gain confidence in their ability to do it.

The team is good. Actually the team is overwhelmingly good. We are destroying the other teams. I want to win, but not like this. It is too easy for the boys. I don't want them to get over confident. They need to know that there is always someone better and that we need to plan for that. Besides if you don't lose you don't appreciate winning.

One of the other fathers and I took on four of the boys and showed them that they have a lot to learn. I was so proud of the kids. They figured out quickly that they could put two defenders on each of us. And then they found out that at their age they can't run with the old men.

Speaking of that I realized that I am having more trouble aging gracefully than I want to admit. Raced a couple of the boys at the gym. In a short sprint I can still hold my own. It takes a little bit longer to get the engine warmed up, but I can still move.

Ego can be a wonderful source of motivation and quite detrimental. I am not the first person to ask why I can't have the wisdom of my age and the body I had when I was twenty. What would it hurt.

Still can't get beyond this feeling of doom. Makes me antsy. Judgement, judgement, judgement. This time of year it is always on my mind. Speaking of judgement it irks me that it can be spelled two different ways. It messes with my spell checker.

Robbing The Bride and Groom

I have been meaning to write about this for a couple of days now. This story troubles me.

Rabbi Barry Tuchman has no congregation, no ties to a recognized Jewish movement and an ordination that was far outside the norm for American Jewish clergy.

But the interfaith couples who contact him don't want to see his diploma. They want to know whether he's willing to marry them. And Rabbi Barry, as he calls himself, is ready to oblige.

He officiates anywhere: in churches, alongside Christian clergy, on the Jewish Sabbath and at Roman Catholic weddings. A student of Shamanism, he can perform American Indian rituals, too.

"What I do," Tuchman said, "is throw the liturgy out the window."

Interfaith couples whose rabbis won't marry them are going to the fringes of American Judaism to find someone who will. And there are plenty of rabbis for hire.

Rabbis with unconventional, even dubious, credentials will create ceremonies that can look Jewish, even if they're not. Fees can run into the thousands of dollars, but business is booming. The rabbis have more work than they can handle.

"It's religion in America for a new generation," said Rabbi Richard Hirsh, executive director of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical Association, which represents rabbis in his movement. "It's pretty much an individual consumer culture of professional services. They are used to getting the services that they want."

The intermarriage rate for U.S. Jews has been above 40 percent since at least the 1990s, according to researchers for the 2001 National Jewish Population Survey. As the rate has climbed, so too has pressure on pulpit rabbis to perform the ceremonies. Advocates for interfaith families say officiating at the weddings can increase the odds that couples will raise their children Jewish.

Most rabbis aren't convinced.

The Conservative and Orthodox movements bar rabbis from performing the ceremonies.

For the full story please click here. Do you really want a hired gun to perform your marriage. And more importantly, who gets smicha to become rich.

Married To the Wrong Woman

Sometimes life is a cliche. One eager screenwriter in a convertible driving down Pacific Coast Highway on his way to pitch his script. Bright blue skies and not a cloud to be seen. Off to the right the surf continued to roll in and out. A healthy dose of nerves and an exceptionally long stoplight almost caused an accident.

The guy driving the black Hummer was none too happy about waiting for the light to change, let alone the extra five seconds that Jimmy Cox caused him to lose by sitting at the light. As the Hummer flew by the driver made a point of shouting some pleasantries at Jimmy regarding his mental capabilities. Not that Jimmy noticed. He was lost in thoughts about the coming meeting.

The opening scene of the movie was simple. The camera was going to zoom in on a pair of eyes. Jimmy didn't care what color they were. All that mattered to him was that they evoked sadness and longing. The model in a roundabout way came from a commercial that had run during his childhood.

The commercial was a PSA that was about littering. A proud Native American with a single tear running down his face. The cause of his tears? Litter.

This was different. This was about unfulfilled potential and lost opportunities for love. It is about trying to decide what kind of sacrifices a parent is willing to make for their children. Does a couple subjugate the chance to explore the greatest love of their lives for the good of their children or do they follow their hearts. Was there a middle ground that they could find or would they spend an eternity apart, filled with regret.

A small snort escaped from Jimmy's mouth. His script Married To the Wrong Woman wasn't anything special. He didn't break any new ground. There weren't any clever or innovative plot twists. It was just another love story. And if there was one thing that had been done a million times in a million different ways it was the love story.

Then again, Jimmy knew in his gut that Hollywood would never stop making love stories. As long as there were people, there would be those who would go to watch the love story. Some would go because they loved the drama. They got off on following the twist and turns. Others would go because they related to it. They could see themselves in the characters. They understood. They identified with the characters.

Love sold and love sells. That was the line he wanted to use. The question was how to present it. Married To the Wrong Woman was the story that was going to get him started. He loved the characters and he loved the story, but only because he had created it. It wasn't his story. It wasn't his personal experience. It was him and a million others he had cobbled together.

All that he really wanted to do was find a way to make a name for himself. He wanted the freedom to make any sort of picture he wanted and figured that the fastest way to do it was to come up with a hit movie. It wasn't totally far fetched. In an age of manufactured pop stars and reality television it was hard to believe that he couldn't fabricate his own fame. In spite of his nerves he reminded himself that innovation in Hollywood meant putting a modern spin on a remake of a sitcom or movie from the 1970s.

Win Money and Watch Life Go To Hell

What a crazy thing. It sounds like an episode of the Twilight Zone.

MOUNT HOPE, West Virginia (AP) -- In his darkest moments, Jack Whittaker has sometimes wondered if winning the nearly $315 million Powerball game was really worth it.The jackpot that was the stuff of dreams turned into a nightmare: His wife left him and his drug-addicted granddaughter -- his protege and heir -- died. He endured constant requests for money.

Almost five years later, Whittaker is left with things money can't cure: His daughter's cancer, a long list of indiscretions documented in newspapers and court records, and an inability to trust others.

"I don't have any friends," he said in a lengthy interview with The Associated Press. "Every friend that I've had, practically, has wanted to borrow money or something and of course, once they borrow money from you, you can't be friends anymore."

Whittaker was a self-made millionaire long before he became a lottery winner, having built a pipeline business worth $17 million. Then he hit the Powerball in December 2002. It was then the largest single jackpot ever.

The prize was worth $314.9 million. Whittaker opted for the lump-sum payout of $170 million -- $93 million after taxes.

He still has plenty of money. And instead of retiring, the 59-year-old starts his day at 5 a.m., juggling ventures in construction, real estate, used-cars, even movies. Work is the last remnant of his old life.