An Embarassment of Riches

As a young camper, all my energies were focused on building plaques, painting scenery, finding someone to snuggle with under a blanket on movie night and other simple diversions that seemed so intensely important at that time. I took for granted the things my Mother and Father worked so hard to provide for me and my brother. And that's exactly how they wanted it. The fact that my parents had obligations and responsibilities were abstract concepts. It was all about me.

How many fathers would build a recording studio in his basement so that his young sons could better follow their muse? He knew first-hand how hard life could be; a child of the depression, compelled by circumstance to provide for his mother and sister at a very young age, working his way up the economic ladder until he was able to ensure that his sons might never know the struggles he endured. My mother created a warm and comfortable home, filled with love and laughter, while writing temple shows, running a travel agency and a camp. And she made it look so easy.

I think we're all well aware of the topsy-turvy world in which we now live. It was evident at the reunion that many of the Omegan alumni are doing well, as are their offspring. What keeps me up nights is: what kind of world will my children inherit?

I can't help but be reminded of the sixties and how many of us (myself included)felt we were going to change the world. Money was the root of all evil, down with the establishment,peace, love and rock and roll and all that hip and cool phraseology. Ironically, our parents were working in the establishment so that we could have the unfettered imagination to dream of this Utopian society. Now that we ARE the establishment, it's our responsibility to provide the same for the next generation. But many of us see our children struggling. For them, pensions are pipe dreams, benefits are bygones and changing jobs is a necessary evil. Some are living paycheck to paycheck and need our help to make ends meet. Unfortunately, this now seems to be the norm, rather than the exception. In a country of such great opportunity, the have-nots are in danger of becoming the never-wills, despite our best efforts.

Are we riding a cycle of alternating disparities? The old axiom that says the next generation should do better than the previous one appears to be dysfunctional. If so, can we break this vicious cycle and restore sanity to our society? I don't have the answers to these distressing questions. What I do know is that our parents lived through a depression and a world war, yet somehow found a way to overcome those obstacles and restore the prosperity of a free democracy to our country. May their efforts give us the hope and resolve we now need to emulate their example, and make the right decisions that, hopefully, may leave a better world for those who will inherit it.

A Loss For Words?

Well, it was bound to happen. I'm sure you've noticed the dearth of blogs this month. I've been feeling very guilty about disappointing my faithful readers. Usually, I'm mulling over multiple topics, therefore, this mental constipation is very frustrating to say the least. There's a name for it - "Seasonal Affective Disorder" or SAD (cute). No doubt big pharma has several drugs they'd like to shove down our throats to treat it. It generally hits me this time of year. The holidays are over and we're well into the doldrums. The effect on my cerebellum is cumulative, resulting in a kind of "mind lock" (no, Spock did a mind-MELD!). From the time I wake up I feel like I'm just phoning it in, going through the motions but not really there. I don't expect the Floridian Omegans among us to understand, and I'm not ready yet to make the great Yiddish migration, although I kvetch enough to qualify. This is an annual affliction, a brain-fog much like the one described in "Joe and the Volcano" (one of Tom Hanks' worst, IMHO).

The only time I get a brief respite is when Max and Jack visit me. No, they're not partners in a Kosher deli, they're my four year old grandsons. When they're at the house and I start playing with them, I feel the weight of winter lifting. They're usually up at 7am, and Grandpa is waiting for them in his pajamas and robe, comfortably ensconced in his favorite chair. Every inch of the floor is covered with trains and favorite toys. And I'm a kid again. As silly as they get, I get even sillier. Their laughter is my sunshine, my only sunshine, they make me happy when skies are gray (OK, those last few words weren't mine, but they seemed appropriate). I would apologize for my shameless kvelling if didn't know there are so many grandparents in the group. I offer it here because, for me, it perfectly illustrates my point; that I am, like DiNiro in "Awakenings", in a state of suspended-imagination, revived only by the occasional sweet stimuli.

Hmmmn. I think I've just written a blog about not writing blogs. Seems the process itself might be impetus enough. And now, I'll slip back into my somnambulistic perambulation until next Spring. Or the next blog.

"Ode To A Caucus" by A. H. Steinman

There once was a meeting named Caucus
Which was really quite rowdy and raucus
And when all votes were cast
It became clear at last
Whomever they choose will still faucus

Happy (Blank) Year!

Ever stroll down the aisle at your local supermarket or big-box retailer and get excited about a product that proclaims "It's New!? Big deal, so it's new! Does the fact that something is new automatically qualify it as fabulous? Of course not. Would you buy a piece of clothing off a rack just because the tag says it's new, even if you don't know the size, color or even gender? No way. Then why do we get so excited when the previous year ends and the current one begins? After all, the calendar remains the same, only the year is incremented.

The point I am belaboring is: just because the year is new doesn't automatically make it a happy one. We should all strive to make every year a great year. And if we succeed, perhaps we can even have a "Happy Previous Year" party. Obviously, I nominate 2007 as a year worth celebrating (need I mention the reunion?).

The concept is not meant to be taken literally; the giant ball in Times Square wouldn't go back up the pole and confetti wouldn't fly into windows. But what a feeling of accomplishment it would be to recognize the ways in which we made the most of the months in the rear-view mirror. If the future is unknown and the past is gone, then the present is both a starting AND finishing line. And both are necessary to run a good race.

As we race towards the finish line, we should occasionally look back to ensure that we're on the right track, straight and true, as well as look ahead to try and overcome whatever obstacles may be in our way. But it's the pace that's most important - coasting the continuum at a good clip, but not so quickly as to let the good times roll by in a blur. We must savor each one because, as has been said many times before, when all is said and done, it's not really as much from whence we start or whither we end as it is about the path we take along the way. And, as we follow that yellow brick road, let's take the time to celebrate the journey in toto, too.

So, let's lift a glass and give a toast to life. As that wonderful old Irish proverb goes: "May the road rise up to greet you, and the wind always be at your back."