Daily Sally

A Thanksgiving Rant, Don't Be Such A Turkey

2012-11-21T15:04:00.003-05:00

I've been reading articles all week about how to "cope" with Thanksgiving. I don't get it. This is by far the coolest -and warmest- holiday of the year.

Thanksgiving is a paid day or two off from work and school. It's secular, non-dressy, no gifts are even involved.

The whole purpose is comfort: hanging out with friends and loved ones, eating delicious food, watching television for hours, taking long naps. Coming home. Or going someplace fun.

And, if you're lucky, spending quality time counting your blessings.

Plus, a bonus for those who care about such things: a whole weekend to shop til you drop.

What other country would think up such a great holiday? And what other country would try harder to screw up such a good thing?

Psychic Shock
But there they are, the ubiquitous articles on how to protect your delicate ego from interfering family members.

"How to get through a visit with your parents ... or your children." (Man up! Woman up! It's one day for cryin out loud).
"How to manage a meal next to creepy Uncle Bud." (Stab his wandering hands with a fork and apologize profusely). "How to refrain from flipping off annoying Aunt Sylvia." (Say something you know will please her or -if she's annoying beyond redemption- go ahead and piss her off).

"How to shut the kids up." Um, I mean, "How to keep the kids busy and involved." (Turn this over to the older kids or younger couples. Tell them it's a rule and/or good practice).
Then of course there's the media frenzy with "news "reports braying about nightmareish Thanksgiving travel and crowded stores.

I have some advice for those who buy into such cynical pandering to the greedy, neurotic and disenfranchised among us: Get over yourselves! Stop kvetching! Oy vey, Enjoy already! (Okay, sorry, for a minute there I made Thanksgiving a Jewish holiday).

Parents
Younger complainers: if you can wait days in line for concert tickets, iPhones and X-Boxes, surely you can spend a few hours in an airport, train station or car to bring joy to those who love you more than any rock star ever will.

Grown children: Stop whining about schlepping to Mom and Dad's house. Remember. these are the people who spent time, effort, money and countless sleepless nights helping you make it to adulthood.

If they didn't, or were abusive, mean, nasty, horrible parents, don't go near them! You're an adult, you have the power now. Use it without guilt and with my blessing.
But if they did their best, give them the love and respect they've earned. Show up, bring something, smile, help with the cooking and the dishes. Appreciate how lucky you are to have a family and a place to call home.

In-Laws
Couples: Stop arguing over whose side of the family to visit and which mother will pile on the most guilt if you don't. Remind yourselves and your parents that doing so pulls you apart.

If they love you, they should encourage you to respect each other. Try to please each other. Make your own decisions. And refine your ability to share.

If that doesn't work, use the big guns. Remind them that too many people have no families, homes or food on Thanksgiving or any other day.

Say you will pick a side to visit this year and donate money to a shelter in the other side's name. Then promise to switch visits next year.

If economics are involved, make the best plan you can, be gracious, firm and loving. Don't let yourself be bullied. It's your relationship, not theirs.

Ex-Laws
Never ever ever use your children as holiday leverage. Do not involve them in a power struggle over who loves who more. Work out a holiday schedule responsive to YOUR CHILDREN, not your personal grievances.

You are giving them memories. Will they need a shrink or learn to create a loving Thanksgiving themselves?

Assist/send/let them go to the other parent without guilt, anger or anything but a big smile and a "Have a great time!"

If you're a real class act (and, well, a little passive-aggressive), help them make something scrumptious to take along.

Reality Check
There's only one thing that should be really hard to handle at Thanksgiving: the empty chairs of loved ones -- unable to come, far away or gone for good.

How trivial to whine about your family's "dysfunctional issues" when others are spending Thanksgiving at a child's hospital bedside. In their own hospital bed. Trying to connect to or from Iraq and Afghanistan. Or bereft and alone.
So...

Give Thanks
Do yourself a favor. Drop the anti-Thanksgiving attitude. Count your blessings for the things you have ... and the things I hope you never have to face.

Then take another moment to remember -and if possible, help- those for whom Thanksgiving is only another day of pain, or a painful reminder of loved ones missing and missed.

If you can't do that, then you're just a big turkey.

PS You'd also do well to remember there are those who might be dreading dealing with you. Help them get over it. You'll thank me.

Have a very Happy Thanksgiving! Or else.
Now, go. Eat. Drink. Enjoy.
====================
On a special note, we're giving thanks our Jersey Shore family's house was spared and donating to those less fortunate. We so grateful for the cease fire in the Middle East and praying for a lasting peace. We welcome three Israeli nieces and families to our table here in Philly this Thanksgiving. For a brief time, all they'll have to fear are bellies bursting, not bombs. Thank g-d.
last year

TEAM KAREN - ROCKIN' FOR LIFE!

2010-09-01T14:25:00.004-05:00

Karen Fern Anderson 5.20.1962 - 8.27.2010

My courageous niece Karen fought Melanoma with all she had. I wrote about her valiant battle a lot. I wish there was nothing left to say except: Cured!

Someday, for others ... until then:

***Remembering Karen***

The beginning of her incredible journey is described here: KAREN ANDERSON.

CANCER WARRIOR, 2009 and 2010 (each new battle, in chronological order)

I See Courage (revised) Karen Loses Her Right Eye and, We Hope, the Cancer Too

Here's To Alex, To Life, L' Chaim! Alex's Bar Mitzvah

"This Is Not The End Of Your Life" Karen's Diagnosis: Metastasis to Liver and Spleen

No More! No Más! Enough! Basta! Finis! Stop! **UPDATED Karen's Birthday, 2009, More Bad News

Karen, Brave Warrior Tried All Other Treatments, Time for Chemo

Karen Does Chemo ***UPDATED UPDATE No Hair, Plenty of Humor

5 Reasons I'm Cranky, 5 Reasons I'm Not 11-year-old Amy is Belle!

Karen's Birthday, Cake with a Side of Chemo & Platelets Karen's Birthday, 2010, in the Hospital

Remembering Karen Eulogy For Our Shining Star

Bob Novak Could Sting, But He Was Really A Honey

2009-08-23T18:00:00.000-05:00

"Beneath the surface, Novak was a sweetie.." Bernadette Malone, former Novak reporter; Senior Editor, Penguin

"There was nothing more fun after a long day than to sit down with Bob Novak and argue about capital-gains taxes, the Fed, the Contras or [any other] topic. But nobody ever doubted that we liked each other and that there was a part of us that would stand off in a corner saying, 'You can't take this too seriously.' " Democratic strategist Bob Shrum

"[O]nce you talked to Novak, you liked him.." Greg Gutfeld, Fox News

Liberals, moderates, even some conservatives have a right to dislike Robert Novak. Pundits everywhere have cataloged his "evilness" with great relish -- never more than in recent pseudo-eulogies and obituaries.

Well, why not? Novak gave them a giant target. He also gave them a solid example of a determined, dedicated Reporter. Even his enemies grant he was a professional political analyst par excellence.

There was another side of Bob Novak. A lighter side. Generous, funny, kind, thoughtful. And more. Not in public of course. Behind the scenes, among friends. It's true. I was there to see some of it for myself.

So, I am not here to defend Robert Novak's public politics, allegiances or deeds. My modest but determined goal is to assert that for those who knew the private man, especially in the years before his dark public persona had solidified, calcified, virtually taken over -- there was quite a lot about Bob Novak to like.

Yes, really.

I'm not speaking about or for his family. I don't know them and I imagine they're having a tough enough time dealing with his death and the public glee expressed by so many. I do know he wasn't an easy family man, so I also imagine they'll have a tough time making peace with it all.

I'm referring to Novak's other family. Not in a legal sense. Not other children. A privileged family of friends. An enduring love. Nothing "official" or even widely known.

Way back in the dark ages of the 1970's some things weren't acknowledged or discussed. The things some of us lived.

It seems like yesterday that I was such a young pup. First a student, then an intern, a low level 'operative." Eager for knowledge and to be all grown up inside the political universe of Washington, DC.

I ran in circles that included some pretty big names in journalism and politics. Some became my friends. Some my mentors. A few lovers. Many provided great stories.

My closest friend and mentor was Johnny Apple, aka R. W. Apple, Jr. of the New York Times. When he died in 2006, he took a big chunk of my early professional and personal years with him. And some of those great stories too. Read my Personal Notes on a Professional Journalist when you can.

Another whose path I crossed gave me one of my all time best stories: Dousing Dan Rather. (This one's especially dedicated to my Texas friends).

It's a different world now, but back then, politics and journalism were strange bedfellows, in both senses of the word. We all worked together, played together, helped --and used-- each other, loved and laughed and learned and betrayed and protected one another.

Life was a little more black and white on the outside and a lot greyer on the inside. Hard working, hard drinking, hard living people created and reported the news. Relationships were intense but friable. Entertaining, free-spirited, at times well-choreographed, often wildly chaotic and doomed.

There were very few constants. Oddly, Bob Novak was one. A grown-up, a power-broker, a potential king maker or breaker. A man who know exactly who he was, what he wanted and how to get it.

And no matter how high he flew (and he did, um, fly), his feet stayed on the ground. He seemed almost a father figure to the younger among us, me included.

He was so proper, edging toward pompous, it was beyond fun to watch him let loose, make indecently funny jokes, double over with laughter, become The Enforcer trying to quiet our riotous behavior.

Even when serious, if you knew where to look you could still see that private twinkle in his eye. Often pointed in one specific direction.

From the 70's through to the present, Bob Novak was friend, mentor and more to one of my oldest, dearest friends. For her loss, I grieve. He was her treasured LH (initials of her private nickname for him), known only by a few intimates. No, I won't tell you what LH stands for, you'd never believe me anyway.

There are a lot of things I'll never tell. But it doesn't matter now to say that Bob Novak had a very special relationship with a small group of insiders and with one very special woman.

You're shocked? Doubtful. You don't care? Fine. Enough of us do. We know there are no absolutes in people or relationships. Everybody's got secrets. Regrets. Imperfections large and small.

Everybody's got some good inside too. And true light. Just because you've never seen it doesn't mean it wasn't there. For some of us, that light's gone out. Though not darkness, but sweetness remains. And we'll always have P Street.

OMG! PHILLIES WIN WORLD SERIES!

2008-10-29T22:42:00.002-05:00

YA GOTTA BELIEVE! Tug McGraw, threw winning pitch of 1980 World Series, RIP, Tug

Well yeah, 1980 and 2008 ... something karmic there.

My throat hurts from screaming, right in my own living room.

My hand hurts (my good arm) from high-fiving my husband.

My windows are rattling from fireworks and car horns and people whooping outside in the streets in joy.

We're going out there now to join the spontaneous block party that's just started.

There are better things than this, but right now, it feels as good as it gets.

PS I'd like to feel this good on November 4.

Yo, Phillies, Go For It!

2008-10-26T17:23:00.003-05:00

Language, smanguage, we just want to WIN!

Paul Newman, No Failure To Communicate With Me

2008-09-29T13:17:00.000-05:00

Warning: If you feel as I do about Paul Newman, this will make you cry.

No one can deny the timeless appeal of Paul Newman. No one will ever replace his precise blend of sex appeal, sensibility, intelligence and rare grace. As an actor, as a human being.

He was my first movie star crush, and no one's come close to this day. Not only because he was also undeniably gorgeous, but because of his reality and humanity, his unwavering devotion to his wife, his family, those less fortunate in the world.

Few celebrities genuinely fit the label Uses Power for Good, Not Evil. Paul Newman defined that concept. And lived life his way, with brio, bravery, honesty, commitment and even modesty.

I had the honor and--oh yeah--the thrill of meeting Paul Newman in 1979 at the Daytona 500. Pure. Magic. I was a guest of friends who owned part interest in Newman's race car company. (It's a business, believe me). They had a big deluxe RV parked in a prime spot inside the track. It was like a luxurious home inside, plenty of refreshments and facilities. We watched the races from swivel chairs bolted to the roof.

Newman didn't sit around and chat. He came and went, focused on the cars, his crew, the preliminary races. His presence was calm and electrifying at the same time. Not that tall, not a loud voice, dressed like all the other drivers. But there was something special about him, a supreme self-confidence and a charisma that pulled you into his orbit.

When we were introduced, he shook my hand with both of his, gave me his full attention, asked a few questions ... for a few brief golden moments making me feel important and yet totally at ease, as if we were old friends. I wish. Wow factor squared. And oh those extraordinary piercing blue eyes, as another friend once described, you could see from the back of his head.

My sister and I were just talking about him yesterday and I said, Is he sick? I've been having this feeling he's going to die. (I'm like that, get premonitions good and bad, always correctly predict the sex of my niece's babies, know when I'm going to hear from someone, stuff like that. My grandmother had it too.)

I so wish I'd been wrong this time. And I feel humbled too. Here I've been, whining about my stupid shoulder surgery, while I bet anything Paul Newman was dying as he lived, with dignity, grace, humor, bravery and love.

My heart goes out to his family and to all of us, his family of faithful fans.

Shouldering Some Surgery, See You in 3-4 Weeks

2008-09-05T00:07:00.002-05:00

This is not me, I have much better muscle tone.

I'm serving notice to all you active young pups still south of 50: Beware Father Time. Especially if you're an athlete. Or a fitness freak. Or both. Trust me, that wonderful, endorphin-enhanced pounding high you're getting now will come back to bite you on the ass. Or, in my case, this time, the left shoulder.

Today I'm having major shoulder surgery. Two 3-centimeter full-thickness rotator cuff tears front and back, a nearly severed biceps tendon, bone spurs, a crack in my scapula (aka shoulder blade). My shoulder's so bad it partially dislocates (called subluxation) at the slightest movement. So the surgery will also include inserting pins for greater stability.

You'd think I was a Major League baseball pitcher. S'okay, I'm in good hands, my doctors treat our Philly teams.

By the time you read this --sometime Friday morning-- I'll be in the OR or in recovery. Drugged and needing it. Hoping to wake up and find the 5-hole arthoscopy did the trick, that they didn't have to open me up with a big nasty incision.

Of all the sports surgeries, they say shoulder is the hardest. Worse, they tell me, than having a hip replaced. (My hips are just fine, thank you). But at least I had fun getting here.

In my teens and 20's it was competitive swimming, volleyball, softball. Plus skiing and running. In my 30's switched full time to tennis, squash, racquetball. Nautilus. Free weights. Aerobics. All necessary not only for health, but stress relief, especially working in politics and journalism.

By the time I reached my 40's I was a full time mom with my own little wellness business on the side, contracted to run fitness centers in federal office buildings and at my local health club. My favorite task was conducting quarterly fitness testing for the FBI, the Secret Service, Customs agents. Damn, that was fun.

Running those guys up and down 10 flights of concrete stairs, making them hit the floor for 50 push ups, hold weights while running an obstacle course, calling them "Sissy maggots!" at the top of my voice. Oh, and did I mention I was doing everything they were doing too? Plus, in those days I was teaching 2-3 step and aerobics classes a day, 5 days a week.

Not. Any. More. Over the past 20 years I've had both knees "scoped" ... handled it pretty well. Also a wrist, an ACL, a small rotator cuff tear/frozen shoulder (the right one), my lower back twice. Less fun, yet manageable. My left hand last February. The worst so far. Hands freakin hurt.

Today they'll fix my left shoulder. I'll suck up the 3-week immobility cast and the pain as best I can. Then I'll start the 3-6 months of rehab. It's okay, I'm a PT fanatic. Physical therapy is my middle name. And my health club. I've been going there throughtout August 3 times a week in advance of this surgery to get in tip top shape for it.

My sister (a nurse, how convenient) will be staying with us to help me manage with only one arm. At least I'm right-handed. But still, fully immobilized left side -- I know from the hand surgery it isn't so easy having only one arm.

My respect for amputees and other disabled people soars when I'm in my 'temporary' situations. You can't cut your food. You can't push yourself into a sitting position in bed. You can't even pull your own pants up without a lot of circus-style contortions.

BUT: they promised me I'll be able to type in a few weeks. Maybe two, maybe three. You gotta know that's almost as high on my list as rehab and recovery. I can always dictate to my sister, but it's not the same. Although if something major breaks, my voice will get here somehow.

In the meantime, maybe this is a good thing. A break from the cerebral and the outrageous, some time for dumb TV shows, chick flicks, good quality heart-to-hearts with my sisters and friends. I'll get flowers and candy and maybe even (stay back, Freaky Troll!) cake.

And from now on, no more tennis and skiing. Instead it's the treadmill, the elliptical, yoga, Pilates, bands, lighter weights, more reps. I love it and it's good for me, health-wise. I have the blood pressure, cardio-vascular endurance, muscle strength, low cholesterol and body mass index of an active woman half my age.

And I have the joints of a worn-out, washed up pro football player.

So take my advice, be a little kinder to your joints while you still can.

I won't be doing any heavy lifting for a while, but I'll be thinking of you, and I wouldn't mind some kind thoughts and good karma from anybody willing to shoulder them on my behalf.

Best. Campaign. Twofer. Ever.

2008-08-28T22:59:00.004-05:00

Blending the names of a twosome, whether celebrity couple or political running mates has become a big trend.

Now that Obama is the nominee and has chosen his Veep, the Twofers are starting.

On Letterman Monday night they came up with some ideas for the Democratic ticket. "This is a CBS News Election '08 Update. In a new CBS Poll, voters were asked which nickname they preferred for the Democratic ticket of Obama-Biden.

In second place is ‘Obiden,' with 39%.

In last place with 3%, ‘Jidenamackojoba.' " (I have no clue what that means).

Then, tonight, after Obama's rock 'em, sock 'em speech, Tom Brokaw made a classic slip of the tongue, saying again: OBiden.

But I have to say again, especially in this town, the hands down winner by a country mile:

Politicians' Infidelity - Playing with Power

2008-08-10T15:45:00.003-05:00

"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still." Lao Tzu

I don't want to talk about John and Elizabeth Edwards. They have enough on their plates. They don't need anything from me that feeds the beast. But I have something to say about an already well-fed beast, our very own Bubba, and his already well-documented infidelities, specifically with Monica Letmeinsky.

The Clinton-Lewinsky affair is an object lesson for all politicians.

Infidelity among us common folk is about a lot of things, mostly dissatisfaction with a marriage. Not the same dynamic in celebrity circles. Movie stars, rock stars, we know all about their groupies and the Cult of Celebrity. Getting behind the velvet rope. 'I'm with the band.'

There's an even different, I'd say more seductive dynamic among political groupies. A sprecial breed. Getting behind the rope line. 'I'm with the Man.'

My checkered career includes working in politics from the State House to the White House. I've seen firsthand how enticing Political Power can be. And how willingly young women (maybe these days young men too) offer themselves sexually to their powerful superiors.

Power is an incredible aphrodisiac. During the act, yes, but even more important to the less powerful, after the fact. Think about it. What did Monica Lewinsky get out of the sex or 'relationship' with Bill Clinton? A cigar? Sheesh. No cigar. A recycled book of poetry? Please. She was the one on her knees. She did the work, sex-wise, not the other way around. She was totally turned on by the fact she was, ohmigod, doing the President of the United States.

There's another aspect about the whole mess that's just plain wrong. It's bad enough Republican hypocrits used the Clinton-Lewinsky affair to further their own agendas at the country's expense. I got almost as sick and tired of liberal feminist bleating about Bill Clinton's sexual harassment of a poor little intern. It. Didn't. Happen.

Their affair wasn't about sexual harassment, it was about sexual dalliance. And the pull of power. She was more than a willing participant, she was an instigator. What, the president just looked around, their eyes met across a crowded room... and... give me a break. She put herself in his path. Probably climbed over others to get there.

L'affair Lewinsky was inappropriate behavior by the president, but not harassment. Monica Lewinsky wasn't seduced. Her job was never in jeopardy. Her reputation was ... ironically at her own hand.

Bill Clinton certainly rocked his marriage, but the only person who damaged Ms. Lewinsky was Ms. Lewinsky, with her inability to keep her mouth shut, on and off the job. She couldn't keep the details of the affair discretely to herself.

She had to brag. They all have to brag. There's no fun in having sex with a powerful politician if you can't tell your friends about it. Revel in their envy and awe. That's the draw. The telling, not the doing.

For those who've got real power it's tough to resist when attractive people throw themselves in your lap. It's tough to resist reaching out for whatever you want. Including low hanging forbidden fruit. That's the fatal flaw in many of our political protagonists. The ego and sheer guts it took them to get to the top makes them believe they're invincible. Untouchable.

Many are untouchable. Except by willing sex partners. And that's what inevitably brings them down.

On Widowhood After (gasp!) Two Years

2008-07-16T14:52:00.006-05:00

"Celebrations of anniversaries of disasters provide opportunities, as do holidays." Joey Skaggs

Two years ago today my sister's husband was killed in a plane crash. She's shared her feelings about widowhood several times here. Every time I learned something. Which is what older sisters are for ... but I would have preferred to learn a different way.

Last year Judy gave us some real insights On Widowhood, After One Year. I asked Judy if she was up to another set of musings on the second anniversary of Bob's death. She came through, bigtime.

This was a difficult assignment because there was nothing monumental to write about. It was a year almost like any year, except I was still living alone. And there were times I wished Bob were here, but I did what I had to do anyway - live - and segued to the next project.

I read what I wrote last year when approaching the first anniversary. I made comments about how I felt then, and here I would like to address those comments and see how I feel now:

I still sleep on my side of the bed.

I finally went through the box of 'our' personal items. Saved some, didn't save others.

I have learned I can do just fine on my own, and it's kind of nice to live without fearing 'the look' when I failed to meet Bob's expectations.

I finally gave away all the flight suits from his closet. But mine is tucked away, waiting for someone to fly me to an air show.

I've resumed flying, which is great. What's not so great is that there's no Bob to call and tell about my great piloting. He loved my war stories.

I'm still not ready to part with his blue blazer with the Harvard buttons, his ski jacket and the Hawaiian shirt he wore on our final trip to Maui. Maybe by the time I write "Widowhood After Three Years."

Bob and I disagreed on some furniture, so I replaced the ugly dining room table and chairs, but most of the house remains the same. These familiar surroundings make me feel comfortable.

I am still learning that I don't have to explain myself to anyone. I really can do anything I want. If that sounds selfish, maybe it is. I've found that I enjoy spending time with Judy.

I can't imagine that I will ever minimize the depth and importance of Bob's and my relationship, but with determination I have learned to manage as a onesie.

No one can take away my memories, and they are still firmly packed away for the future, dosage to be determined at the time of need. Bob isn't here. That's the big fact. But I am. And I continue to believe that moping my way through life accomplishes nothing.

The tears don't flow so easily any more, though I am, after all, a woman.

When a memory of 'us' pops up I still get a little misty. But it's just another one of those memories than no one can take away. So I think past it and it gets tucked away. What's the point?

I still work as often as possible. Great distraction, great co-workers, long and hard days which keep me busy with little time for reflecting.

I did make the trip to Israel last year. Two days after my xxth high school reunion, where the women looked great and the men were fat and deaf, I was on a plane to Tel Aviv. When I deplaned I felt like I was on another planet. I couldn't read, I couldn't speak, I couldn't communicate. First question (puzzled face): "Speak English?"

I never understood, with his love of history, why Bob chose never to go there. I took in the magic of the sights, the hills, the buildings, the museums, and I wanted so much to share it with him.

I've had some personal tragedies during this year and as a result have spent a lot of time in airports. And hospitals. And bedrooms. While these have been distractions, too, I still miss being able to call Bob at the end of my day and tell him all about it. He would have offered an ear. He went to UVA and then Harvard Law School - the right words were built in.

This summer I am nursing at the camp my grandchildren are attending as rookies. I thought it would be nice to have Grammy around in these strange surroundings. Two days after camp concludes a friend and I will go to London and embark on a twelve day cruise through the Baltics, another trip Bob didn't care to take. I still don't get it. But now he'll never be able to explain it to me.

I realized why I had so much trouble trying to put these thoughts together. It's because life is lived one day at a time. Pain is temporary. Every day just happens, and you do what you have to do. I've survived a few depressing hiccups with a great deal of support from family and friends. Here I am, about to embark on my third year of widowhood ... and saying the word doesn't hurt so much any more.

I am surviving. It is not easy, but if you remain stuck in the past you will never get to the future. So tune in next year.

Once again, Judy, you've taught us what real coping looks like. Thank you. I hope you meet a new Prince Charming on that cruise. It's time.

Picture Terror

2008-07-02T18:02:00.003-05:00

AP

"The terrorist yelled, 'God is great.' I grabbed Oron's handgun and fired three bullets. As soon as I was sure he was dead I lifted the gun so as not to hurt passersby." Israel Policeman Eli Mizrahi

Picture yourself on vacation, sleeping peacefully in a hotel bed. Maybe you're having a nice dream. Perhaps your partner is snuggled up to you, making you sweat a little in the summer heat but adding even more peace to your last moments of sleep.

You wake up, get dressed, have breakfast, prepare for the day's schedule of site-seeing, shopping, whatever. You find the right bus, jam into it with locals and other tourists like you --well, they're tackier than you, but still, fellow tourists-- and hope like hell the bus has air conditioning.

Picture the noisy streets, crowded, clogged with traffic, especially in the heart of town, around the old bus depot where construction workers are building a shiny new train station. Also, you notice with a smidgen of interest, it's near the central headquarters for local broadcasting stations.

Now picture you're feeling a little annoyed, all that equipment blocking the way, making traffic a nightmare. Resigned to a long wait, you gaze out the window apathetically.

Then you notice the bulldozer. It's driving away from the construction site, moving against traffic. Cars are crashing, horns blaring. Finally, unbelievably, you realize it's heading directly at your bus.

Picture terror.

The bulldozer plows into your bus, knocking it over onto its side like a bowling pin. Like more pins, passengers and debris are flying everywhere. In the process a small Toyota is flattened, it's female driver killed instantly. Other cars have been hit. Pedestrians too.

Picture a horrifying scene of carnage, blood, broken bodies, crumpled metal, destruction. Picture an elite police terror squad as they climb onto the bulldozer and kill the terrorist driver at point blank range.

Then, picture this: ordinary citizens rushing toward the scene, giving all the aid and comfort they can as ambulance sirens wail closer. Jerusalem is now under an official state of emergency.

Picture too, that an event like this is so commonplace my niece called this morning from Jerusalem to apologize she couldn't pick up the special tee shirt for my son because the store she'd planned to visit was in the heart of the chaos. But, she assured me, she'd try another area of the city not prone to attack.

This is my family. This is where they live. This is where I am now. Safe and sound. But only because my family lives in the right place. So far.

Picture the real truth. In America and most of the Western world, terrorism is a political issue. In the Middle East it's the real deal.

It's been quiet in Israel recently with hope focused on the proposed peace talks. But as every Israeli knows, quiet is relative here. Today one crazed, fanatical criminal took peace into his own hands and shattered it. Tomorrow it could be dozens, hundreds, thousands.

I want to hear from Barack Obama and John McCain what they're going to do about protecting Israel. No more tap dancing, dammit. I want a clear picture.

Heading Back to the Homeland

2008-06-16T17:50:00.001-05:00

The picture above is from my nephew's wedding this February in Israel. There's nothing like a wedding to bring people together.

Our family's weddings in Israel do more than that -- they bring worlds together. I missed this one because I had surgery. I've finally gotten the go-ahead to fly and am leaving Tuesday (tomorrow!).

As always, I will be welcomed back with joy and excitement. As always, my family will shower me with unconditional love. As always I will offer my love in return, plus a warm welcome and some of Aunt Sally's special guidance to my nieces and the newest family bride. And as always, I will come away having learned more than I could ever teach.

There's much to admire about our family in Israel, but the level of their commitment to a Higher Power is highest on my list. There's something deeply comforting about the purity of religious rituals, both simple and complex.

They provide so much more than merely rules. They offer guidance. And a path toward inner peace. I wouldn't trade that for anything. And every time I visit, I find myself further along that path.

Though our Israel family is much more deeply religious, we're not really so different. In the end, we are the sum of our unique individualities. Which could be a positive way to walk the road to peace. Someday. We can hope.

So off I go. Have computer, will travel. If you don't hear from me for a while, I'll see you in July. Tawk amongst yourselves. I certainly know you can.

Hillary. Oh Hillary

2008-06-06T14:46:00.004-05:00

"Politics is the art of the possible; creativity is the art of the impossible." Ben Okri

I watched. I choked up. I was uplifted. I was, as usual, impressed. The rest is about grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance.

I am one of those "older women" who feel so robbed. And it's not just a philosophical issue to me, I've worked in politics at the highest levels. I know how far women have traveled, and yet when it comes to choosing between a man and a woman, we are still Second Class. In the eyes of the White Male Politicians who still run the show and who believe in their guts women and minorities are all equally second class citizens, it appears even a man of color was deemed preferable to a woman.

I first felt she shouldn't be VP but now I'm not so sure. As for those who worry about comfort level between Barack and Hillary, there's a parallel to be drawn: JFK and Johnson. The youthful purveyor of hope and the tough, savvy warhorse. They hated each other but look what they accomplished. If not for that historic partnership, Barack Obama might not be where he is today.

It could work. I just hope and pray all Hillary's history hasn't been written yet.

Enough said.

Obama's Pyrrhic Victory

2008-06-04T14:43:00.005-05:00

"Politics, as a practice, whatever its professions, has always been the systematic organization of hatreds." Henry Brooks Adams

Let's face it, Barack Obama didn't so much win as Hillary Clinton lost. Just as Obama will lose to McCain. That's (almost) all I have to say. I've said so much already, it's just air. Until it becomes reality.

I hope I'm wrong. But I fear that white people will, in the privacy of the voting booth, vote their personal prejudice, not our supposed national conscience. And I believe there are many, many women who will vote for McCain because they feel Hillary was robbed, and patronized in the bargain.

This is the 21st Century, this is America, how absurd to celebrate "the first Black presidential candidate." It shouldn't be an issue. Skin color and gender shouldn't matter. I hate that they still do. It degrades us as a people, and as a country.

In a way, singling the candidates out as "historic" is an insult not only to Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, but to all people of color and all women.

These two candidates stand out on their own, for their intelligence, education, abilities, public service and passionate commitment to rights and freedoms for all people. Not because of their color or gender.

Politically, we are the most backward country in the civilized world. And when we elect John McCain president next November we should hang our heads in shame.

DNC Follies

2008-06-02T14:57:00.003-05:00

Stephen Crowley/The New York Times

"This body of 30 individuals has decided that they're going to substitute their judgment for 600,000 [Michigan] voters." Harold Ickes

I tried hard to watch the DNC rules committee hearing. Really I did. I know many of the players. I have a personal, pro-Hillary, pro-Democratic Party stake in the outcome. But I knew what it would be, what deals were made, how the die was already cast.

The hearing on CNN: Ponderous pomposity. Transparent toadying. Boring bullsh*t.

The ruling: No surprise. As it has so many, many times, the DNC let us down.

Why has this country suffered almost eight long years of incompetent, indifferent, criminal behavior from the Bush administration? Not because George W. Bush won two elections ... but because the Democrats threw them away.

And now we're about to do it again. Have we learned NOTHING? Count the votes. Count all the votes. All. And let the people speak. Yeah, right, like that'll ever happen.

I'll tell you this: I don't give a damn any more about He Said, She Said. I'm tired of opinions pro this or anti that. Woulda coulda shoulda. I just want to win! What is there left to say?

(Okay, that's it, burnout has officially commenced).

SATC - Entertainment, Not Politics

2008-05-30T14:09:00.007-05:00

"... we have come a long way. No question. Definitely. But it's not because of 'Sex and the City.' It's because of what real women have done in real lives, not on TV sets." Susie Bright

Just when my brain is about to explode from too much media coverage of the presidential campaign, along comes the movie version of Sex and the City.

What does it say about our values that Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama get a break from the spotlight while the media engage in a virtual masturbatory orgy of psychobabble about the global impact of a fictional group of horny, romantic, often silly women?

Enough! Sex and the City is a movie, not a movement. The real, political movement already happened -- back in the 60's and 70's. I know. I was there. It was called Women's Liberation. Equal Rights. The Sexual Revolution.

Those hard won battles weren't fueled by a TV show or a movie any more than the SATC movie or TV show launched any kind of new cultural breakthroughs. So today's 20-somethings seem obsessed about sex, why does that have so many writers' panties in a twist?

Every generation of young people thinks it invented sex. Our great grandparents were having group sex in bathtubs full of gin, for cryin' out loud. It was the Baby Boomer generation --Make Love, Not War-- that opened a truly new and open discussion.

We Boomers can claim, legitimately, that ours is the generation who brought sex, drugs and rock 'n roll out of the closet and into the forefront of our culture.

We took away the shame, the blame, the insulting game whose rules told us that healthy sexual appetites are for men only. That sexual objectification and worse, abuse, is tolerable. That women don't have the right to control our own bodies.

That's the bottom line. Now, we can not only control them, we can enjoy them. Do what we want with them. Discuss them. Trust me, we dished down-and-dirty then, and we still do.

Most of us weren't strutting the streets of Manhattan in $800 shoes and $1500 dresses. We wore jeans and flip flops. (Oh, you thought you invented those too? Jeez). But we had just as much sex just as casually and reviewed just as many details with our BFF's as do fictional Carrie and crew.

By the way, I'm a devoted SATC fan. Especially because the openness, dreams and vulnerability portrayed resonate with me and my generation of sexually active women from 30-to-50-something. And, one hopes, beyond.

SATC was a hot, sexy TV show with a lot of snappy dialogue, sex, flash, dazzle, and women dropping the F-bomb as casually as they dropped their panties. Yes, they all wanted to be married or at least cared for, but guess what ... so do we all. We don't need someone with a PhD in relationship therapy to tell us the obvious.

I've been eagerly waiting for the movie, but I'm planning to wait just a little longer til the crowds of over-dressed, overly self-conscious and pretentious SATC wannabes are gone. Then, my girlfriends and I will go. And laugh and cry and maybe get annoyed (I already hate Carrie's wedding dress) at the excess.

But in the end, it's just entertainment. Not politics. Which, frankly, gets more fantastical every day.

Air Travel Tips

2008-05-28T11:01:00.004-05:00

"Today, most people consider just getting there to be the only remaining value in air travel." Zagat Survey

It's travel season and as a seasoned traveler I'm sharing some tips on how to make your airplane trip smoother, easier and a little safer.

Zen Approach
A realistic, even fatalistic attitude is the key to sane air travel. Today's reality means you will be dealing with underpaid, overworked people in positions of power without proper training or enough supervision.

Many of those people can--and will--abuse that power and make your life hell. If you let them. (I'll tell you how to minimize that in a minute).

Chant to yourself over and over before you leave the house, "It's out of my control. It's out of my control. It's out of my control."

And face facts: if you can't deal with the inevitability of being overcharged, underserved, ordered around, invaded, ignored, pushed, prodded, poked and possibly insulted ... all while enduring endless, boring waits, don't fly. Just stay home. Really.

Money Matters
Keep a collection of ones and fives in a separate small holder, in your pocket or in the top compartment of a carry-on. This is for tips. Don't be stingy. You can afford to hand out a total of twenty bucks to people making minimum wage schlepping heavy stuff for tired, cranky travelers.

Make sure your wallet is packed way down deep in a bag that never leaves your side. I stow my cash and credit cards in a make-up case or anything else that isn't all that interesting and doesn't resemble a wallet. Put some extra money and one credit card in a different place or on your person.

If you're traveling overseas, try to get some local currency before you leave. Do not change money in a foreign airport unless it's a local bank branch. And even with our economy and buying power at an all time low, everybody still wants American dollars.

Send yourself email with your passport info, including number and expiration date, your itinerary and your credit card and bank numbers.

Packing Lists
Make a Travel Packing List and save it on your computer. I have different lists for different destinations. Florida, Israel, California, Denver ... each requires different clothes and gear.

I also group my lists into categories, i.e. Backpack, Carry-On, Checked Luggage. When I'm ready to pack, I print the list and check things off as I put them in the bags.

Tape a copy of your list to the inside of each bag as a reminder so you don't leave anything behind on your return. Plus, it's a good way to keep track of your stuff ... and to let the airline know you're doing just that.

By the way, this is not overly anal. Disagree? Okay, get back to me when you reach your destination and realize you forgot your prescription reading glasses, special shampoo, camera or phone charger.

Pro Packing
Pack meds, toilet articles, iPod, etc. in see-thru cases and fold clothes into plastic packing bags and big zip-locks, which you can buy at Target or CVS.

Remember, your luggage will be searched over and over, your belongings moved and touched by strangers. Security screeners only wear those blue plastic gloves to protect them from the cooties in everybody's luggage.

If they can see everything through your clear plastic cases and bags, security personnel are less likely to open them and physically touch your stuff.

Important: Pack all medications, essential small toiletries, a set of underwear and one outfit in your carry-on to get you through at least a day of lost or late luggage. Include a pack of tissues. And a small bottle of hand sanitizer to use after you've visited the bathroom. Especially on the plane, you don't want the lavatory water even to touch your hands.

Lugging Luggage
If you travel with a lot of stuff, buy the cheapest, lightest luggage you can find. A $35 roomy 30" rolling upright from Walmart has lasted me six round trips and counting from Philly to Tel Aviv.

Mark the outside of your luggage front and back with duck tape. I write my last name in bold marker on the tape. I don't know why more people don't do this, but I can pick out my bags in a flash from the other side of the carousel, and so can a porter (or a kind stranger) if I'm exhausted and needing help.

Don't forget to put your name and address INSIDE your luggage. If those fancy monogrammed luggage tags you bought from Eddie Bauer fall off, how will the airline find you?

Take a digital picture of your bags inside and out and keep it on your camera (print a copy, too) in case the airline loses them. The copy of your travel packing list will come in real handy then too.

At the Airport
Have your ticket, ID or passport and a credit card all together up front where you can grab them instantly. How many times have you stood in line behind someone digging endlessly through her bag making everyone wait? Don't let that person be you.

Bring along a book or magazine, your iPod, take a pill if necessary. Whatever you can do to reduce stress, relieve boredom and let you go with the flow will save you a lot of aggravation.

It's a given you will stand in line quite a while to go through security. Seize that opportunity and use the time productively by preparing for the scanner. Dump the Pepsi. Take off your jacket. Get the laptop out. Unlace the shoes (slip-on's are so much smarter). Have your quart Ziploc ready to drop in the bin.

We all know we have to do this. Savvy travelers don't wait til they reach the belt to start the whole process. They also know you don't make jokes or conversation with TSA employees. Unless you need to point out the metal pins in your knee, the best approach is silent compliance.

While you're in the departure lounge be pleasant to people. Admire babies, smile sympathetically at the parents of crying or restless children. Help an older person with a bag or offer to get her a bottle of water. Strike up a conversation with the person next to you. All will make time pass and gain you points, if only in heaven.

And if you have a question or request for airline personnel, be nice, be patient, try to be courteous even if they're frazzled. Remember, they don't run the airline, their job mainly consists of stamping tickets and listening to angry people bitch and moan every hour of every single day.

On the Plane
Have your boarding pass (and ID if required) in your hand when boarding is called. If possible, have your book and glasses out or at the top of your carry-on too.

Read your boarding pass, figure out approximately where your seat is, find it fast, stow your bag(s) above and below your seat and sit down as quickly as possible.

Help your seat mate do the same if necessary.

You will have gone to the bathroom while waiting in the departure lounge.

Then you can settle back, open your book, embrace your Zen attitude and be well prepared to wait until the waiting's over.

FL Jews vs Obama or the New York Times?

2008-05-22T17:09:00.010-05:00

Eric Thayer for The New York Times

Shirley Weitz, right, talking to Ruth Grossman in Boynton Beach, Fla. The Jews she knows will not vote for Senator Barack Obama, Ms. Weitz said, because of “his attitude toward Israel.”

There's an article in The New York Times on the ambivalence many Florida Jews feel about voting for Barack Obama. It's a serious article about an important issue. But somebody at the Times didn't pay attention to some decidedly unserious gaffes.

Let's start with Mrs. Weitz of Boynton Beach, pictured above in the article's cover photo. Styled dark hair, expert make-up, trim figure, trendy clothes. I see similar lovely ladies when I visit my parents in nearby Boca Raton.

Not one of those women would ever choose to be identified in the New York Times by her age, except possibly in her obituary.

Okay, maybe a small thing. But let's move on to Ms. Grossman, literally outed by the Times on race and her voting preference.

I think the cat's out of the bag now, Ms. Grossman. Unless none of your neighbors read the Times.

Then there's the sidebar photo. Unintentionally hilarious. Oh, don't give me a hard time about fat-bashing. I don't care what you look like as long as you're healthy. But I'm guessing the lady pictured isn't too thrilled with the offer to um, further enlarge her image.

Finally I have to ask Rabbi New how he thinks his senior constituents will respond when they read his highlighted Times quote as he mused about "The fate of the world for the next four years."

Oy.

Happy and HEALTHY Birthday, Karen

2008-05-20T09:13:00.007-05:00

"Nothing contributes so much to tranquilizing the mind as a steady purpose -- a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye." Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Today is my niece Karen's birthday. You could ask, who gives a whoop besides her family? Anybody who's ever faced cancer, that's who. They know, as Karen knows, that every birthday is a gift. More, a triumph.

Karen's been fighting cancer for 8 years. During most of those years not for herself, which would be hard enough. But for her young son, which is, to a parent, much, much worse.

Alex was diagnosed at age 4 with a rare disease called VHL. An operation removed all the mechanics of his right ear, carotid artery and part of his brain. The outer ear is still there, but the hearing is gone.

You all know Alex. I haven't written about him for a while because although he's an extraordinary boy, thank god there's been nothing out of the ordinary to say. Last week Alex celebrated his 12th birthday.

A continuing triumph. Of family and medical diligence, healthy lifestyle, good karma, mind over matter. Whatever, we'll take it. Especially now for Karen's birthday too.

Because incredibly, a year and a half ago Karen got cancer. Not VHL. Skin cancer. Melanoma. Oh yeah. we've all heard of that. And not in a good way.

Karen's was first a small patch on her leg. Excised, clean margins, finished. Then, six months later tumors in her right eye signaled the much rarer, much more dangerous, ocular melanoma.

They tried everything, but it came back. On April 16, barely a month ago, surgeons had to remove her right eye. An outer cover is there, attached to the muscles which still work, but the sight is gone.

Karen and Alex. Mother and son. Different cancers, similar losses, totally the right attitude.

Fight. Mobilize. Energize. Laugh. Love. Live. Learn all you can. Gather your physical and emotional resourses. Seek and accept support and counsel and advice. Lean on your loved ones and stand on your own two feet.

According to Karen's example, that's what you do to survive. More, that's how you live life to the fullest.

Karen is a survivor of the highest order. An inspiration to cancer victims, mothers of cancer victims, other survivors and those who are trying to be. An object lesson to those of us who waste time moaning about petty problems.

Tomorrow Karen has her first appointment to be fitted for an artificial eye. She's been wearing cool eye patches, but is really looking forward to looking like she's got the real deal.

What a birthday present, eh? And not just for another of life's milestones, but for a true celebration of life itself.

Happy and HEALTHY Birthday, Karen. We're all wishing you many, many, many, many more.

Get the whole 411 on Karen HERE.

Family Fun Facts

2008-05-19T09:33:00.001-05:00

"If you can't make it better, you can laugh at it." Erma Bombeck

Okay, so I'm a week late for Mother's Day. Most mothers are farther behind than that.

I was supposed to leave for Israel today but my sore paw is still acting up and will delay my trip at least a month. I need a distraction. And I thought we could all use a laugh, even a week late.

Our family in Israel has 10 kids, youngest is 7. There are now 7 grandkids, oldest is 6. Here's something funny (and potentially too true), supposedly written by a mother in Austin, TX.

25 THINGS I'VE LEARNED FROM MY CHILDREN

1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.

2. If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they ignite.

3. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "Uh-oh," it's already too late.

4. One 3-year-old's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.

5. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.

6. No matter how much Jello you put in a swimming pool, you still can't walk on water.

7. Pool filters do not like Jello.

8. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a four-year-old.

9. Play Dough and Microwave should never be used in the same sentence.

10. Super glue is forever.

11. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

12. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.

13. You probably do not want to know what that odor is.

14. Always look in the oven before you turn it on. Plastic toys do not like ovens. Neither do gerbils.

15. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.

16. It does, however, make cats dizzy.

17. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.

18. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a superman cape.

19. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 by 20 foot room.

20. You should not throw baseballs up in the air when the ceiling fan is on.

21. When using the ceiling fan as a bat , you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit.

22. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.

23. The glass in windows (even safety glass) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.

24. Your sister's head will, however, stop that same baseball.

25. Sisters hit in the head by baseballs cause a LOT of commotion.

Hillary's Last Stand?

2008-05-16T16:21:00.006-05:00

HillaryClinton.com - Action

"A quitter never wins and a winner never quits. To quit while losing is to lose while quitting." Napoleon Hill

Here's the latest email from Hillary. It's called Florida and Michigan. Here's what it says:

Millions of voters in Florida and Michigan are depending on you to help make sure they have a voice in this race. Will you stand up for them today?

Thanks to your efforts, thanks to the hundreds of thousands of people who have already spoken out, the DNC's Rules and Bylaws Committee is meeting May 31 to make a decision about whether or not the votes in Michigan and Florida will count.

Now I need you to urge the DNC to make the right decision on May 31. I need you to remind them that in the Democratic Party, we count every vote.

Tell the Democratic National Committee to count the votes of Florida and Michigan.

On May 31, the DNC has a chance to make it clear that the people of Florida and Michigan have a voice in our party. The decision is especially critical given the important role these states will play in November.

And your voice could make the difference for the millions of people who went to the polls in those two states to make their choice for president.

Stand with me today and tell the DNC to count the votes in Florida and Michigan.

I have consistently said that every vote must count. It is such an important principle in our party. I really appreciate you standing up for the values we share.

Thank you,

Hillary Rodham Clinton

What do you think I did?

Right. I clicked on the link and I signed up and I wrote what I truly believe. Everybody who voted for Hillary Clinton should see their votes count. Not just in Florida and Michigan, but everywhere.

I'm not a quitter. I want my vote to count too. I chose my candidate because I believe in her and I think she can win. I'm with her to the bitter end. I don't bail without a damn good reason. And I haven't heard one yet.

I don't make pompous, regal endorsements in favor of one candidate, not because I like him or his positions but because, personally, I can't stand her. Kennedy? Kerry? Are you kidding me??

I don't endorse the candidate who seems to be winning so I can seem to be on the winning team. How unbelievably shallow can you get? NARAL? Are you kidding me??

I don't endorse the presumptive best shot to secure myself a cabinet post or who knows what else. John Edwards? Are you kidding me??

I don't jump on a bandwagon just because it looks like the cool kids are there. That bandwagon was created by the so-called cool kids. Who are so very often so very wrong.

I have a position, an ideology, a belief system, a candidate ... and I stand firm until it's really over.

Here's what I told the DNC:

The DNC rules are arbitrary and wrong. It's bad enough our party has been unable to stand up effectively against all the judicial rulings made in favor of Republicans over many elections ... we should not now turn against our own. All the Democratic voters in America should be heard, not just the endorsing-for-gain politicians and other opportunists. Too many convention battles in the past have shown us that it's not over until it's over.

Why did I say that?

Because it's true. And because I don't give up when it seems to become more fashionable to support the other guy. Especially since I don't think the other guy can win.

The Democratic Party has become a joke compared to the Republican Machine. Florida and Michigan are hugely pivotal states in the general election. They represent a pattern that predicts a Clinton win over McCain in November.

If we disallow those voters a real voice and allow nouveau uber liberal guilt to become our clarion call ... it will instead become our swan song.

When are we going to get over ourselves and play to win?

Reflections on Israel's 60th

2008-05-14T13:31:00.006-05:00

Yamit, Israel 1978, Israel's 30th Birthday

"If you liked the book, you'll love the country." Israeli Tourist Bureau

Most people who write about Israel do so passionately, unable to suppress their beliefs, ideologies, politics. That's okay. Israel has sparked supercharged emotions from its inception to the present day. How could it not?

A country formed by displaced Holocaust survivors, European, Levantine, Jewish and Arab nationals, the political agendas of Britain, France, Germany and the United States. Home to the holiest shrines of Western civilization's three major religions.

Israel, let's be frank, is--and always has been--the biggest political football in the world. That's not going to stop any time soon. But it won't stop me from going there, either. And it shouldn't stop you.

I've written about Israel from my own biased perspective as a Jew and an American, but also as one who's lived there, has family there, has had many up close and personal experiences.

On the occasion of Israel's 60th Anniversary as an independent nation, here's my sampling of what Israel means to its own citizens, to the world and to you and me.

Yamit, Israel - A Cautionary Town > Gaza - Yamit: Been There, Done That - Friends who made the desert bloom. And then had to give it all away.

Terrorism - A Daily Fact of Life - 9/11 from Israel's point of view.

Israel - Reality Check - See my mother with Israel's founder and first president.

I'm Home and I'm Fine - I unknowingly travel to the US from Israel on the first day of last year's war.

Another Wedding in Israel - And then, I go back again.

And by the way, I'll be heading there next month for a long overdue visit.

Liz Spikol and 'Mad Pride'

2008-05-13T09:19:00.000-05:00

Shea Roggio for The New York Times

"It's not a 'mental' illness, it's a medical condition." Dale Neaman

So there she is, Liz Spikol, profiled in the New York Times and on the Huffington Post, back to back. Wow. How cool is that. Especially on a subject about which she happens to be an expert: mental illness.

The focus is on Spikol's contribution to a modern movement dedicated to bringing mental illnesses out of the dark ages and onto the Internet and YouTube. To shine light on a litany of very real medical conditions once hidden in the same kind of closet as homosexuality.

I knew Liz as a child, followed her impressive professional career, learned of her long battle with mental illness. I've celebrated her growth here but never came out, so to speak, about my own membership in her not so exclusive club.

'Mad Pride' is finally a group I can get behind 100 per cent. No, I'm not crazy (neither is Liz). But I'm not totally sane either. If you just went, HUH? that's the problem 'Mad Pride' proponents are trying to address.

Look around, hardly anybody you know is issue-free, so to speak. Or chemical-free, as a result of any number of very real mood disorders and illnesses. Usually inherited, just like heart disease or diabetes.

Yeah, I live a "normal," mentally balanced life, but only with the help of prescribed pharmaceuticals, internal fortitude and external support. So do millions of others, many, many of whom are related to me.

In our family alone we've got bi-polar disorder, manic depression, hypo-mania, clinical depression, suicidal ideation disorder, a potpourri of anxiety disorders, PTSD, obsessive-compulsive disorder, alcoholism, ADHD, Asperger's Syndrome and last but not least, body dysmorphic disorder.

Just about the only thing missing is schizophrenia. Although.... wait ... no! ... maybe ... well ... hold on! ... shut up! Oh, nevermind. Just kidding.

Mental illness isn't funny. Unless you've been through the tunnel, come out the other end and are managing your disease well. Then it can--for some, Must--be a stitch. Because that's the best way to patch yourself up.

A poster girl for 'Mad Pride,' Liz Spikol speaks with heart, humor, raw honesty, intelligence and incredible perception about her battles with bi-polar disorder. Listen to her.

Then listen some more.

I'll take my turn in print. Sometime soon.

Gore and Kerry and Clinton, Oh My

2008-05-12T15:41:00.006-05:00

"All people are born alike - except Republicans and Democrats." Groucho Marx

In the democratic process, it's not over til it's over.

In the Democratic Party, it's over when somebody is publicly excoriated, humiliated and undermined by lies, innuendo and personal agendas.

In the Republican Party, it's only over for the Other Guy, after a rousing game of dig up the dirt, spin dross into dirt, throw the dirt, buy some soulless ditch diggers, say a lot of self-serving prayers and bury the Democratic opposition.

In a perfect world, Gore should have learned that from Ducacus, Kerry from Ducacus and Gore, Hillary from Ducacus, Kerry and Gore. But it's not a perfect world.

All four ran campaigns more imperfect than for any Eighth Grade Treasurer (Pick Me! Pick Me!). When attacked, the first three ignored, refused to defend or cry foul, engaged in massive denial. At least Hillary Clinton kept plugging, explored every avenue, attempted to Go the Distance.

Too little too late, especially combined with betrayal after betrayal by fellow Democrats with nothing to gain or lose, no ideological difference save personal animus for Bill or Hillary or both.

And unbelievably, Hillary chose equally arrogant, ineffectual advisers as her predecessors. (And ignored the best, brightest advice available). All those advisers allowed the candidates to run the campaigns. To make major strategic decisions. Big mistake. Really. Really. Big.

Political marketing has been a science for decades. Now in the 21st Century, and especially at the presidential level, it's become astrophysics. Mastering that particular skill isn't in the candidate's job description. Nor is it a role we want him or her to fill.

In smart campaigns, the candidate determines policies, positions, goals, visions. Schmoozes the big money. Appeals to smaller donors too. Does his/her homework and shows up ready to rumble.

It's up to the political pros to stage the right rumble, set the right stage, brainstorm and execute the best strategies to get the message out and the candidate in.

Winning campaigns are poised from day one to read the country's mind, locate the sweet spot, fill the money pot, have fallbacks and Hail Mary's at the ready, know the big stuff from the small stuff and never appear to sweat either.

It's pretty clear the Obama campaign figured that out from the jump. As did the McCain team, though that's no surprise ... Republicans have made political campaigning an atomic art form.

It's very clear Team Hillary got it wrong. (My former pol colleagues and I have been making these same points to each other for months. Hats off to Karen Tumulty of Time for getting it right).

No matter what happens before or during the Democratic National Convention this summer, I fear much of the country will look back in dismay next November and for years to come, wondering how a war-mongering Republican became President of the United States. Again.

Still, it's not over til it's over.

Jenna Bush, AKA J-BU

2008-05-11T13:03:00.004-05:00

"I think this wedding is one of the most special ones we've done." Donald Trump

Okay, now that the pictures are out, I have to dish. I didn't think I'd care and really, I don't. But still, to see such crashing bad taste all in one place is just too much fun to overlook.

First of all, Oscar de la Renta or not, that low-cut, tightly fitted gown would look more fitting on say, Katherine Heigl than on Jenna Bush. It screams Hottie on the Red Carpet instead of murmuring Blushing Bride.

And I have to ask, what was up with Maid of Honor twin Barbara's Greek Goddess look, complete with wreath headdress? Jeez.

George and Barbara Bush Senior are conspicuously absent from the photos, which is okay since Laura choose a matronly, ugly dress more suitable for Grandmother of the Bride.

Then we had the two fathers and the groom in complimentary and matching ice blue ties. Again, Jeez.

These people have access to the best clothes and fashion advice that money can buy. Aside from a truly lovely engagement ring--which come to think of it came from the groom's side--and a glorious setting provided by nature, the wedding party's look was as tacky as the souvenirs being hawked all over Crawford.

It is sweet the wedding took place this weekend, but I bet that wasn't Jenna's idea. Releasing those pictures on Mother's Day is too good an opportunity for a sagging presidency to pass up.

Around here, there's no wedding, just the usual pride. Our son spent the weekend down in Boca with his grandparents (today is my Dad's birthday too). Tonight we'll pick him up at the airport and go to our favorite Italian restaurant for a relaxed Mother's Day dinner.

All that and roses too.

I won't be wearing Oscar de la Renta ... just the usual jeans. And a great big happy smile.