Today, June 18, 2017, is Father's Day, at least in the United States. In Brazil, it will be celebrated on August 13 this year. But as I have no father nor children in Brazil, I will celebrate today.
When I was a child, Father's Day meant my father, Harry Lasky, born September 7, 1901 in Troy, New York, the seventh of eight children in a family of first generation Jewish-Americans whose parents had emigrated from eastern Europe. My father believed, as many of his generation believed, that being a father meant being a "bread winner." That's it. Mother did the rest. He was a good bread winner.
At home, my father was quiet, mostly uncommunicative. I don't remember him talking to me before departing in the mornings for his office at the Netherland Dairy near the western edge of town. When he would return at the end of the day, my mother would warn me not to bother him because he would be very tired from work. So, I didn't. My father would either go to his office, watch TV or read the newspaper, in silence. When my mother announced dinner (always meat and potatoes plus a lettuce and tomato salad) was ready, he would join the rest of us and eat mostly in silence. He would usually spend the rest of the day watching TV in silence.
Days would come and go without my having any conversations with my father. And often, such conversations would be negative, as in I had done something wrong that would upset him. He appeared to me as an intimidating person, not approachable nor benevolent (like Robert Young in Father Knows Best).
I remember some days, such as when I was alone watching sports on TV, that my father would enter the room and sit and watch as well. He would try to make small talk, but I would be on edge that this would evolve negatively leading him to shout at and/or threaten me with corporal punishment (he never hit me). Typically, after some minutes of silently watching sports on TV together, he would leave and I could relax.
From age 10 to 12, I played Little League baseball on a team sponsored by the local Police Department. My father never came to see me play. When I was a teenager, I remember a few occasions when my father sought me out to tell me certain things, such as what to do after being with a woman or negative facts about my mother's family. When I went away to college, I had to discuss finances with my father, as this was outside my mother's purview. I finally found him to be approachable and accommodating.
My father had a pet name for me which he used on rare occasions, The Duke of Devonshire. Why? I don't know.
My father did serve as a role model in some ways. He always supported my mother, thus presenting a united front to us children. When we went out to eat, I paid attention to what my father ordered and did like he did. At Whalen's Drug Store on Saturday mornings, he ordered bacon (not kosher) and eggs. At Vince's, an Italian restaurant, he ordered shrimp cocktail (not kosher) and steak (never their Italian specialties).
My fondest memory of my father was one day in 1977 when, as an adult, I was visiting my parents in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was showing signs of dementia. I suggested that we go to a nearby spring training baseball game between the two New York teams, the Yankees and the Mets. Twice when I was a child, my father turned down opportunities to take me to a football game. It turns out the love of baseball was something we had in common, as he enjoyed playing as a child, as did I. However, this time it was as if I were the father and he was the child. I took him to our seats and bought us some hot dogs. He died four years later.
On December 7, 1975 (Rachel) and August 15, 1985 (Bret), I became a father. As a result, Father's Day took on a new meaning.
When I was on the verge of fatherhood, I saw it as an opportunity to be the father I never had. I would be more than just a bread winner to my children. I would be totally involved in raising them, along with their mother, Bonita, to be happy, well-adjusted, self-confident human beings.
When my children were born, I felt an immediate bonding with them, something I had never experienced before. I felt that I would sacrifice anything for them, without question. Raising my children became my #1 priority. I also discovered that I totally enjoyed the experience of being their father, which has been the greatest pleasure of my productive life.
I know I made mistakes. Nobody is perfect. However, I did not repeat what I consider to be the mistakes of my parents. I took what I thought they did well and rejected what I disagreed with, such as corporal punishment. I also learned from Bonita's counsel and from reading about early childhood education.
As part of raising my children, I wanted Rachel and Bret to know me, warts and all. This was important because my father and I missed the golden opportunity we had to know each other.
It's impossible to choose my favorite moment with my children because there were so many memorable ones.
My children are grown now and I am very proud of them. I consider Rachel and Bret to be the greatest successes of my life. They are also how I measure that my life has been a success.
Happy Father's Day!
__________
I will be on vacation until Sunday, July 16
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Sunday, June 11, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 12
"I don't want another big church wedding," says Rita to her cousin, Maria. "I want something simple and refined. We'll do it here at my house with a few friends and relatives."
"Whatever you want, Rita. It's your day, yours and Ben's."
"You must go with me to choose something tasteful to wear. Not white, but elegant."
For Thanksgiving, 1940, Ben goes to his brother Dave's home in Syracuse. While his wife, Peggy, cooks the traditional turkey and stuffing, Ben talks politics with Dave and his eighteen year-old son, Harry.
"So, Ben, have you accepted that Roosevelt will be president again, for the third time?"
"Of course. I believe in democracy. I just hope he has enough wisdom to keep the American people from getting involved in the war."
"It won't be the same with you so far away, Ben. I guess we won't see you for a while."
"I promise I'll come back as often as I can. I'll miss all of you."
Harry adds that, "I think it's kind of neat you're be going to live in Mexico. Can you speak Spanish, Uncle Ben?"
"I'm gonna learn."
On Christmas eve, Ben walks toward the entrance of his church in Oswego as snow is gently falling. There is about an inch of accumulation on the ground. Traditional Christmas music emanates from inside. The street is empty as he arrives late. On the steps of the church Ben notices a solitary figure approaching from the opposite direction. It's his ex-wife, Paula. When she sees Ben, she stops and they stare at each other for a moment, without either saying a word. Then Paula continues towards the open doorway followed at a short distance by Ben. After they both enter the church, the door closes behind them.
Soon it will be 1941 and much will change for Ben and the rest of America.
"Whatever you want, Rita. It's your day, yours and Ben's."
"You must go with me to choose something tasteful to wear. Not white, but elegant."
For Thanksgiving, 1940, Ben goes to his brother Dave's home in Syracuse. While his wife, Peggy, cooks the traditional turkey and stuffing, Ben talks politics with Dave and his eighteen year-old son, Harry.
"So, Ben, have you accepted that Roosevelt will be president again, for the third time?"
"Of course. I believe in democracy. I just hope he has enough wisdom to keep the American people from getting involved in the war."
"It won't be the same with you so far away, Ben. I guess we won't see you for a while."
"I promise I'll come back as often as I can. I'll miss all of you."
Harry adds that, "I think it's kind of neat you're be going to live in Mexico. Can you speak Spanish, Uncle Ben?"
"I'm gonna learn."
On Christmas eve, Ben walks toward the entrance of his church in Oswego as snow is gently falling. There is about an inch of accumulation on the ground. Traditional Christmas music emanates from inside. The street is empty as he arrives late. On the steps of the church Ben notices a solitary figure approaching from the opposite direction. It's his ex-wife, Paula. When she sees Ben, she stops and they stare at each other for a moment, without either saying a word. Then Paula continues towards the open doorway followed at a short distance by Ben. After they both enter the church, the door closes behind them.
Soon it will be 1941 and much will change for Ben and the rest of America.
Sunday, June 4, 2017
Emily
One Saturday night in the fall of 1964, I went alone, as usual, to a theater in center city Philadelphia to watch a popular movie of the day, the name of which I have completely forgotten. However, much to my delight, I got to see a second film, a surprise screening of a new release, The Americanization of Emily, a film I have never forgotten. It starred James Garner and Julie Andrews. Garner had become a TV star from the popular western series of the 1950s, Maverick, where he portrayed "an articulate cardsharp." Andrews had just finished the film, Mary Poppins, for which she would win an Academy Award for Best Actress.
The Americanization of Emily initially caught my attention as a rare black-and-white film of that era. It also appeared to be another typical World War II drama, taking place in London, just before the D Day invasion (June 6, 1944 - 73 years ago next Tuesday). However, this was not the usual picture glorifying war. It was an anti-war film.
Garner, as Lieutenant Commander Charlie Madison, is a "dog robber," a highly efficient aide to his Admiral. His job is "to keep his boss supplied with luxury goods and amiable women." Needless to say, Charlie is the best dog robber in the U.S. Navy.
Andrews, as Emily Barham, a driver from the British military motor pool assigned to Charlie, "has lost her husband, brother and father in the war." A hopeless romantic, Emily falls in love with Charlie because (1) his job keeps him far from danger and (2) she is both fascinated and disgusted by his access to expensive material goods while England endures wartime rationing.
There is some wonderful dialogue in the film which was written by Paddy Chayefsky, a winner of three Academy Awards: 1955, Best Adapted Screenplay, Marty (see blog post, Marty the Movie); 1971, Best Original Screenplay, The Hospital; and 1976, Best Original Screenplay, Network.
"You American-haters bore me to tears, Miss Barham. I've dealt with Europeans all my life. I know all about us parvenus from the States who come over here and race around your old cathedral towns with our cameras and Coca-Cola bottles... Brawl in your pubs, paw at your women, and act like we own the world. We over tip, we talk too loud, we think we can buy anything with a Hershey bar. I've had Germans and Italians tell me how politically ingenuous we are, and perhaps so. But we haven't managed a Hitler or a Mussolini yet. I've had Frenchmen call me a savage because I only took half an hour for lunch. Hell, Miss Barham, the only reason the French take two hours for lunch is because the service in their restaurants is lousy. The most tedious lot are you British. We crass Americans didn't introduce war into your little island. This war, Miss Barham, to which we Americans are so insensitive, is the result of 2,000 years of European greed, barbarism, superstition, and stupidity. Don't blame it on our Coca-Cola bottles. Europe was a going brothel long before we came to town."
"War isn't hell at all. It's man at his best; the highest morality he's capable of. It's not war that's insane, you see. It's the morality of it. It's not greed or ambition that makes war; it's goodness. Wars are always fought for the best of reasons: for liberation or manifest destiny. Always against tyranny and always in the interest of humanity. So far in this war, we've managed to butcher ten million humans in the interest of humanity. Next war it seems we'll have to destroy all of man in order to preserve his damn dignity. It's not war that's unnatural to us. It's virtue. As long as valor remains a virtue, we shall have soldiers."
"I don't trust people who make bitter reflections about war, Mrs. Barham. It's always the generals with the bloodiest records who are the first to shout what a hell it is. It's always the war widows who lead the Memorial Day parade. We shall never end wars, Mrs. Barham, by blaming it on the ministers and generals, or warmongering imperialists, or all the other banal bogeys. It's the rest of us who build statues to those generals and name boulevards after those ministers. The rest of us who make heroes of our dead and shrines of our battlefields. We wear our widow's weeds like nuns, Mrs. Barham, and perpetuate war by exalting its sacrifices."
"I don't want to know what's good, or bad, or true. I let God worry about the truth. I just want to know the momentary facts about things. Life isn't good, or bad, or true. It's merely factual, it's sensual, it's alive. My idea of living sensual facts are you, a home, a country, a world, a universe. In that order. I want to know what I am, not what I should be."
"Well, you're a good woman. You've done the morally right thing. God save us from all the people who do the morally right thing. It's always the rest of us who get broken in half. I want you to remember that the last time you saw me, I was unregenerately eating a Hershey bar."
Garner and Andrews enjoyed working together so much they did it twice more: 1982, Victor/Victoria (a musical comedy about a woman pretending to be a female impersonator) and 1999, One Special Night (a made for TV movie about a widow and a widower who take refuge together in an abandoned cabin one stormy winter evening).
Sunday, May 28, 2017
Best of Intentions, Chapter 11
Sunshine seeps into Sunshine Cabin number 7, not far from the southern shore of Lake Ontario, just west of Oswego. Ben and Rita, both naked, are asleep on their bed with Rita's tussled hair across Ben's right shoulder. When light finally hits his eyes, he awakens and stares at the beautiful woman lying next to him. Finally, she opens her eyes and smiles.
"Good morning, Rita. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"I'm so relaxed," said Ben. "I haven't felt this way...since forever. What are we going to do? See each other every six months? I couldn't bear it."
"What should we do?"
"There's only one solution. I can retire at the end of the year, move to Mexico City and we'd get married. It'll be easier for us that way. Marry me, Rita, please!"
"Yes, my love, I'll marry you."
They embrace again, start kissing again, and start making love all over again, in the same passionate way they did the night before, as if they have all the time in the world.
A few months later, Ben is sitting at his desk in his empty classroom at OHS looking at the papers his students have just left him to grade. Marilyn enters looking perturbed. She closes the door behind her and walks over to Ben.
"I heard you put in your retirement papers. Why? You love teaching. It's all you've got."
"You're wrong, Marilyn. I've found someone. I'm going to get married and move away."
"What? I don't believe you. When did this happen?"
"I met a woman...a wonderful woman...and in January I'm moving to Mexico City. I'm very much in love."
"That's crazy. You've lived here your whole life. How could you give it all up and move to another country for a woman you just met? People love you here. You don't have to go."
"You're a friend, Marilyn. I appreciate that, but I'm in love for the first time since what happened to Frank. It's a second chance at life and I'm going for it with everything I've got."
"That's the first time I've heard you say your son's name since the accident."
"Yes and I don't have those terrible dreams anymore. It's because of Rita."
"You're full of names today. I'm sorry you didn't give me a fair chance. I love you and I know I could make you happy and you wouldn't have to give up everything."
Frustrated, Marilyn storms out of the room and slams the door behind her.
Meanwhile, Miguel is in Rita's bedroom, pacing as he talks.
"It's crazy. It won't work. I give it a month and then he'll leave you. No American's going to abandon his precious country, even for a woman."
"I don't agree, but even if it's true, I must take this chance. I've been alone for too long. I can't give him up. What would you have me do, go live there? Ben's willing to try. Give him a chance, my brother. Please."
"Of course, I'll give him a chance. I'll do anything for you. And if you love him, he must be special. I just don't want to see you hurt."
"Sometimes you must risk getting hurt to find happiness. I love Ben very much."
"Good morning, Rita. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"I'm so relaxed," said Ben. "I haven't felt this way...since forever. What are we going to do? See each other every six months? I couldn't bear it."
"What should we do?"
"There's only one solution. I can retire at the end of the year, move to Mexico City and we'd get married. It'll be easier for us that way. Marry me, Rita, please!"
"Yes, my love, I'll marry you."
They embrace again, start kissing again, and start making love all over again, in the same passionate way they did the night before, as if they have all the time in the world.
A few months later, Ben is sitting at his desk in his empty classroom at OHS looking at the papers his students have just left him to grade. Marilyn enters looking perturbed. She closes the door behind her and walks over to Ben.
"I heard you put in your retirement papers. Why? You love teaching. It's all you've got."
"You're wrong, Marilyn. I've found someone. I'm going to get married and move away."
"What? I don't believe you. When did this happen?"
"I met a woman...a wonderful woman...and in January I'm moving to Mexico City. I'm very much in love."
"That's crazy. You've lived here your whole life. How could you give it all up and move to another country for a woman you just met? People love you here. You don't have to go."
"You're a friend, Marilyn. I appreciate that, but I'm in love for the first time since what happened to Frank. It's a second chance at life and I'm going for it with everything I've got."
"That's the first time I've heard you say your son's name since the accident."
"Yes and I don't have those terrible dreams anymore. It's because of Rita."
"You're full of names today. I'm sorry you didn't give me a fair chance. I love you and I know I could make you happy and you wouldn't have to give up everything."
Frustrated, Marilyn storms out of the room and slams the door behind her.
Meanwhile, Miguel is in Rita's bedroom, pacing as he talks.
"It's crazy. It won't work. I give it a month and then he'll leave you. No American's going to abandon his precious country, even for a woman."
"I don't agree, but even if it's true, I must take this chance. I've been alone for too long. I can't give him up. What would you have me do, go live there? Ben's willing to try. Give him a chance, my brother. Please."
"Of course, I'll give him a chance. I'll do anything for you. And if you love him, he must be special. I just don't want to see you hurt."
"Sometimes you must risk getting hurt to find happiness. I love Ben very much."
Sunday, May 21, 2017
A Contender
Marlon Brando, one of America's greatest actors, both on stage and in film, was born on April 3, 1924 in Omaha, Nebraska. After he finished with high school, he moved to New York City to study acting. Brando's big break came in 1947 when he played Stanley on Broadway in Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire.
This led Brando to a film career beginning in 1950 with The Men, directed by Fred Zinnemann (see posts High Noon and From Here to Eternity), the story of a paraplegic coping with life after being wounded in WWII.
In 1951, he resurrected his role in the film version of A Streetcar Named Desire directed by Elia Kazan. Brando was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.
In 1952, also with Kazan, Brando portrayed a Mexican revolutionary in the film, Viva Zapata, for which he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Gary Cooper in High Noon.
In 1953, he portrayed Marc Antony in the the film version of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Brando was again nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to William Holden (see blog post) in Stalag 17 . That same year, he was Johnny Strabler, a cultural iconic figure in the film, The Wild One.
girl: Hey, Johnny, what are you rebelling against?
Johnny: What you got?
In 1954, Brando starred in one of my favorite films, On the Waterfront, again directed by Kazan, and which also starred Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb, Rod Steiger, and Eva Marie Saint. The film won eight Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Brando), Best Supporting Actress (Saint), and Best Screenplay (Budd Schulberg). Malden, Cobb and Steiger were all nominated for Best Supporting Actor, but lost to Edmond O'Brien in The Barefoot Contessa.
On the Waterfront is the story of labor union violence and corruption involving longshoremen in Hoboken, New Jersey, across the Hudson River from New York City. Brando portrays Terry, an ex-pugilist, now a longshoreman who benefits from his brother, Charlie (Steiger), being the right-hand man of the corrupt union boss, Johnny Friendly (Cobb).
Originally, Terry's cynical attitude towards life is "Do it to them before they do it to you." However, that changes when he falls in love with Edie (Saint), the sister of a man who was murdered by Johnny Friendly because he had threatened to testify against Friendly to a crime commission. Originally, out of loyalty to Charlie and Johnny, Terry wants to remain "D & D" (deaf and dumb).
Through the influence of Edie and a Catholic priest (Malden), Terry develops a conscience and contemplates doing the right thing by testifying about what he knows. In a climactic scene (one of the most iconic in movie history) inside a taxi, Charlie fails to dissuade Terry from testifying. Then, Charlie starts talking about Terry's former career in the ring.
Charlie: How much you weigh, son? When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds, you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, but that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast.
Terry: It wasn't him, Charlie, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden. You came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson." You remember that? This ain't your night. My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart. So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on a ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville. You was my brother, Charlie. You shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money.
This led Brando to a film career beginning in 1950 with The Men, directed by Fred Zinnemann (see posts High Noon and From Here to Eternity), the story of a paraplegic coping with life after being wounded in WWII.
In 1951, he resurrected his role in the film version of A Streetcar Named Desire directed by Elia Kazan. Brando was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Humphrey Bogart in The African Queen.
In 1952, also with Kazan, Brando portrayed a Mexican revolutionary in the film, Viva Zapata, for which he was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Gary Cooper in High Noon.
In 1953, he portrayed Marc Antony in the the film version of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, directed by Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Brando was again nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to William Holden (see blog post) in Stalag 17 . That same year, he was Johnny Strabler, a cultural iconic figure in the film, The Wild One.
girl: Hey, Johnny, what are you rebelling against?
Johnny: What you got?
In 1954, Brando starred in one of my favorite films, On the Waterfront, again directed by Kazan, and which also starred Karl Malden, Lee J. Cobb, Rod Steiger, and Eva Marie Saint. The film won eight Academy Awards including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (Brando), Best Supporting Actress (Saint), and Best Screenplay (Budd Schulberg). Malden, Cobb and Steiger were all nominated for Best Supporting Actor, but lost to Edmond O'Brien in The Barefoot Contessa.
On the Waterfront is the story of labor union violence and corruption involving longshoremen in Hoboken, New Jersey, across the Hudson River from New York City. Brando portrays Terry, an ex-pugilist, now a longshoreman who benefits from his brother, Charlie (Steiger), being the right-hand man of the corrupt union boss, Johnny Friendly (Cobb).
Originally, Terry's cynical attitude towards life is "Do it to them before they do it to you." However, that changes when he falls in love with Edie (Saint), the sister of a man who was murdered by Johnny Friendly because he had threatened to testify against Friendly to a crime commission. Originally, out of loyalty to Charlie and Johnny, Terry wants to remain "D & D" (deaf and dumb).
Through the influence of Edie and a Catholic priest (Malden), Terry develops a conscience and contemplates doing the right thing by testifying about what he knows. In a climactic scene (one of the most iconic in movie history) inside a taxi, Charlie fails to dissuade Terry from testifying. Then, Charlie starts talking about Terry's former career in the ring.
Charlie: How much you weigh, son? When you weighed one hundred and sixty-eight pounds, you were beautiful. You coulda been another Billy Conn, but that skunk we got you for a manager, he brought you along too fast.
Terry: It wasn't him, Charlie, it was you. Remember that night in the Garden. You came down to my dressing room and you said, "Kid, this ain't your night. We're going for the price on Wilson." You remember that? This ain't your night. My night! I coulda taken Wilson apart. So what happens? He gets the title shot outdoors on a ballpark and what do I get? A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville. You was my brother, Charlie. You shoulda looked out for me a little bit. You shoulda taken care of me just a little bit so I wouldn't have to take them dives for the short-end money.
Charlie: Oh, I
had some bets down for you. You saw some
money.
Terry: You
don’t understand. I coulda had
class. I coulda been
a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is
what I am. Let’s face it. It was you, Charlie.
a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is
what I am. Let’s face it. It was you, Charlie.
Sunday, May 14, 2017
Israel
At the end of the Nineteenth Century, Palestine was controlled by the Ottoman Empire, headquartered in Constantinople, now known as Istanbul, in modern day Turkey. That changed after World War I (1914-1918). As the Ottoman Empire was on the losing side, it lost control of Palestine. Great Britain, on the winning side, administered the area from 1920 to 1948 under a mandate from the League of Nations.
As a result of anti-British violence in Palestine from both its Arab and Jewish communities, the British government announced its intention to end the mandate. The United Nations was given the responsibility to determine what to do with Palestine.
In May of 1947, eleven UN member states (Canada, Czechoslovakia, Guatemala, Netherlands, Peru, Sweden, Uruguay, India, Iran, Yugoslavia, and Australia) were asked to recommend a solution. The first seven of the above recommended that Palestine be partitioned into separate Jewish and Arab states, with Jerusalem administered as an international city. The next three recommended a one state solution. Australia abstained.
On November 29, 1947, by a vote of 33 to 13 (with 10 abstentions), the UN General Assembly approved the above partition plan, to take effect upon the withdrawal of British forces from Palestine at midnight on May 14, 1948. While the majority of the Jewish community in Palestine accepted the partition plan, the majority of the Arab community rejected it. Neighboring Arab states called for a military solution.
Sixty-nine years ago today, May 14, 1948, the Jewish leadership in Palestine, under Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, declared the establishment of the State of Israel within the borders approved by the UN partition plan. Soon after, military forces from Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and Iraq invaded the former Palestine, taking control of the Arab area, while at the same time attacking Jewish forces and settlements.
The war between the Jewish and Arab states lasted approximately nine months until March of 1949. Armistice agreements, not treaties of recognition, were agreed to between Israel and its neighbors. As a result of the war, the area of Israel expanded through the acquisition of about 60% of the UN designated Arab area of Palestine, plus West Jerusalem. In addition, Jordan annexed the remaining Arab area (plus East Jerusalem), with the exception of the Gaza Strip which was controlled by Egypt. No Palestinian Arab state as approved by the UN was created.
When I was a student at Penn, I took an English course in which I was required to write an original composition of my choosing. I wrote about the desire of the Jewish people to have a country of their own, Israel, a concept known as Zionism (a movement for the re-establishment and development of a Jewish nation). My professor gave me a low grade, criticizing the concept I wrote about as "irrational."
Theodor Herzl, a Jew, was born May 2, 1860 in the Kingdom of Hungary. In 1894, he was the Paris correspondent for Neue Freie Presse, covering the infamous Dreyfus Affair. In December of that year, French Army Captain Alfred Dreyfus, a Jew, was unjustly convicted of passing military secrets to Germany. He was a scapegoat for the French military high command who wanted to protect the real culprit, a French officer named Esterhazy.
When Herzl heard chants of "Death to the Jews" from anti-Dreyfus demonstrators, he became a Zionist. In 1897, he convened the First International Jewish Congress. It set out a program to establish "for the Jewish people a publicly and legally assured home in Palestine," their ancient homeland until the Diaspora was enforced by the Roman Empire in 70 A.D. The Congress also established the World Zionist Organization to implement the program.
An important event in the timeline toward the establishment of the State of Israel occurred on November 2, 1917 when the British Foreign Secretary, Arthur Balfour, declared "His Majesty's government views with favor the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people and will use their best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object."
Although Herzl died in 1904, well before his vision of the modern State of Israel came into fruition, he is buried there. I visited his tomb in 1973. It was a fascinating experience for me as a Jew who had lived all his life as a member of a minority in the USA to be in a place where he was among the majority in the land of the Jewish people, who have the same right to their own state as do other people on the planet Earth. It is not an irrational concept!
So today is Israel's sixty-ninth birthday. Mazel tov.
As a result of anti-British violence in Palestine from both its Arab and Jewish communities, the British government announced its intention to end the mandate. The United Nations was given the responsibility to determine what to do with Palestine.
In May of 1947, eleven UN member states (Canada, Czechoslovakia, Guatemala, Netherlands, Peru, Sweden, Uruguay, India, Iran, Yugoslavia, and Australia) were asked to recommend a solution. The first seven of the above recommended that Palestine be partitioned into separate Jewish and Arab states, with Jerusalem administered as an international city. The next three recommended a one state solution. Australia abstained.
On November 29, 1947, by a vote of 33 to 13 (with 10 abstentions), the UN General Assembly approved the above partition plan, to take effect upon the withdrawal of British forces from Palestine at midnight on May 14, 1948. While the majority of the Jewish community in Palestine accepted the partition plan, the majority of the Arab community rejected it. Neighboring Arab states called for a military solution.
Sixty-nine years ago today, May 14, 1948, the Jewish leadership in Palestine, under Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion, declared the establishment of the State of Israel within the borders approved by the UN partition plan. Soon after, military forces from Egypt, Jordan, Syria, and Iraq invaded the former Palestine, taking control of the Arab area, while at the same time attacking Jewish forces and settlements.
The war between the Jewish and Arab states lasted approximately nine months until March of 1949. Armistice agreements, not treaties of recognition, were agreed to between Israel and its neighbors. As a result of the war, the area of Israel expanded through the acquisition of about 60% of the UN designated Arab area of Palestine, plus West Jerusalem. In addition, Jordan annexed the remaining Arab area (plus East Jerusalem), with the exception of the Gaza Strip which was controlled by Egypt. No Palestinian Arab state as approved by the UN was created.
When I was a student at Penn, I took an English course in which I was required to write an original composition of my choosing. I wrote about the desire of the Jewish people to have a country of their own, Israel, a concept known as Zionism (a movement for the re-establishment and development of a Jewish nation). My professor gave me a low grade, criticizing the concept I wrote about as "irrational."
Theodor Herzl, a Jew, was born May 2, 1860 in the Kingdom of Hungary. In 1894, he was the Paris correspondent for Neue Freie Presse, covering the infamous Dreyfus Affair. In December of that year, French Army Captain Alfred Dreyfus, a Jew, was unjustly convicted of passing military secrets to Germany. He was a scapegoat for the French military high command who wanted to protect the real culprit, a French officer named Esterhazy.
When Herzl heard chants of "Death to the Jews" from anti-Dreyfus demonstrators, he became a Zionist. In 1897, he convened the First International Jewish Congress. It set out a program to establish "for the Jewish people a publicly and legally assured home in Palestine," their ancient homeland until the Diaspora was enforced by the Roman Empire in 70 A.D. The Congress also established the World Zionist Organization to implement the program.
An important event in the timeline toward the establishment of the State of Israel occurred on November 2, 1917 when the British Foreign Secretary, Arthur Balfour, declared "His Majesty's government views with favor the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people and will use their best endeavors to facilitate the achievement of this object."
Although Herzl died in 1904, well before his vision of the modern State of Israel came into fruition, he is buried there. I visited his tomb in 1973. It was a fascinating experience for me as a Jew who had lived all his life as a member of a minority in the USA to be in a place where he was among the majority in the land of the Jewish people, who have the same right to their own state as do other people on the planet Earth. It is not an irrational concept!
So today is Israel's sixty-ninth birthday. Mazel tov.
Sunday, May 7, 2017
My Sister
Eighty-six and a half years ago, November 7, 1930, my sister was born at the Oswego Hospital in Oswego, New York. She was named Jane, after our father's father, Joseph, who died in 1925. She was the first of five children born to our parents, Harry and Margaret Lasky. Jane was the only girl, followed by four boys. I was the youngest, born fourteen and three-quarter years later on August 7, 1945.
Jane doted on me when I was a baby, changing my diapers, feeding me my formula, and playing with me on the floor of the bedroom. As she was my first baby sitter, Jane took me multiple times across the street to play in the East Side Park and to the Oswego Theater for the first time to see a Bugs Bunny cartoon. When I was growing up, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Jane graduated as valedictorian of her OHS class of 1948. She went on to Barnard College in New York City, where the family frequently visited her on our father's business trips to nearby White Plains. After she graduated in 1952, Jane matriculated at the State University of New York Upstate Medical University in Syracuse, only about thirty miles from our home. Four years later she was a doctor, satisfying our mother's dream.
Jane stayed on in Syracuse for further training in her chosen specialty, obstetrics and gynecology. She was one of the first female OB-GYNs in the area. Eventually, Jane opened her own private practice in Syracuse. Years later, she also taught at Upstate and was an active role model for her female students.
As Jane never married, she stayed close to her parents and siblings. I remember when I was a shy, teenage boy, she boosted my self- confidence by giving me her female perspective. When I suffered gastrointestinal symptoms while I was at Penn, she was someone I could easily talk to about how I should proceed with my treatment.
Over the years, all of us in the family benefited from having Jane in our lives. As far as I could tell, she was an excellent physician who treated her patients and colleagues with care and dignity. Eventually Jane was forced to retire and lead a more relaxed life. I try to visit her whenever I can.
Eighty-six and a half years ago, November 7, 1930, my sister died at the Oswego Hospital in Oswego, New York. She was never named and is buried in an unmarked grave in the Jewish section of a cemetery south of town. Neither of my parents ever mentioned her brief existence to me. I learned of her through persistent rumors which led to my requesting and receiving a copy of her birth certificate from the Oswego City Clerk's office.
Something happened that day, November 7, 1930, that led to the death of my sister on the very day of her birth. As a result, our mother insisted the rest of her children be delivered at Syracuse Memorial Hospital, perhaps more advanced than the Oswego Hospital where my sister was born and died.
As a result of what happened that day, November 7, 1930, all the wonderful events of Jane's life I described above never happened and my parents and my brothers and I lived our lives as if my sister never existed. I sometimes wonder what might have been.
Jane doted on me when I was a baby, changing my diapers, feeding me my formula, and playing with me on the floor of the bedroom. As she was my first baby sitter, Jane took me multiple times across the street to play in the East Side Park and to the Oswego Theater for the first time to see a Bugs Bunny cartoon. When I was growing up, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.
Jane graduated as valedictorian of her OHS class of 1948. She went on to Barnard College in New York City, where the family frequently visited her on our father's business trips to nearby White Plains. After she graduated in 1952, Jane matriculated at the State University of New York Upstate Medical University in Syracuse, only about thirty miles from our home. Four years later she was a doctor, satisfying our mother's dream.
Jane stayed on in Syracuse for further training in her chosen specialty, obstetrics and gynecology. She was one of the first female OB-GYNs in the area. Eventually, Jane opened her own private practice in Syracuse. Years later, she also taught at Upstate and was an active role model for her female students.
As Jane never married, she stayed close to her parents and siblings. I remember when I was a shy, teenage boy, she boosted my self- confidence by giving me her female perspective. When I suffered gastrointestinal symptoms while I was at Penn, she was someone I could easily talk to about how I should proceed with my treatment.
Over the years, all of us in the family benefited from having Jane in our lives. As far as I could tell, she was an excellent physician who treated her patients and colleagues with care and dignity. Eventually Jane was forced to retire and lead a more relaxed life. I try to visit her whenever I can.
Eighty-six and a half years ago, November 7, 1930, my sister died at the Oswego Hospital in Oswego, New York. She was never named and is buried in an unmarked grave in the Jewish section of a cemetery south of town. Neither of my parents ever mentioned her brief existence to me. I learned of her through persistent rumors which led to my requesting and receiving a copy of her birth certificate from the Oswego City Clerk's office.
Something happened that day, November 7, 1930, that led to the death of my sister on the very day of her birth. As a result, our mother insisted the rest of her children be delivered at Syracuse Memorial Hospital, perhaps more advanced than the Oswego Hospital where my sister was born and died.
As a result of what happened that day, November 7, 1930, all the wonderful events of Jane's life I described above never happened and my parents and my brothers and I lived our lives as if my sister never existed. I sometimes wonder what might have been.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)