Monthly Archives: December 2013

Sunday Scenes – December 29, 2013

pathway to sea

The imagination is the golden pathway to everywhere.
-Terence McKenna

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
-Khalil Gibran

What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but, scattered along lifes pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.
-Joseph Addison

Theresa Bernstein: A Century in Art is currently on display at The Graduate Center, CUNY’s James Gallery, in New York.

There are deep Jewish roots in children’s literature. Read about it, here, and discover some wonderful sounding exhibits.

The Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles is showing an Experiential Exhibit on Anne Frank.

This is my last Sunday Scenes post for 2013. The next one will be posted in 2014! Happy New Year to everyone. May your 2014 be safe, illuminated with joy and love, and filled with peace.

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Another Wednesday

ocean runner

It is another Wednesday in Lorri-land. I sit here looking at photographs I took recently while in northern CA, and am daydreaming about my time there.

I have set aside a few things to do, today, that I have been meaning to take care of. I am working in my front yard, arranging some pots that I will be using to plant some succulent plants in, along with assorted flowers. The pots are in various sizes and shapes, which should add some interest and form once they are grouped and placed. The succulents will be good in the sense they will not need a lot of watering, and will make a nice addition to the front of the house.

Last night I watched Fiddler on the Roof. I love this film, and watch it at least twice a year.

I also need to catch up on some organizing. I have books that I need to sort. Some will be taken to the senior center, some will be given to the library, and the rest I will keep. I am trying to lighten up on the books I have collected. Do not get me wrong…I love my books, but I don’t want to have a load of them lingering around. What I like to read does not necessarily reflect what my family likes to read. I will keep the ones that are extremely important to me, which amounts to enough, as it is.

That is about it for me, for now.

Enjoy the rest of your day, wherever you are.

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Various Choices

I do not celebrate Christmas. But, I have Italian heritage in my ancestry, from my mother’s side of the family. They were all Italian, and I have traced my ancestry back to the late 1700s on my maternal side. My maternal side is filled with Italian immigrants who disembarked at Ellis Island, and from there, made their way to New York City, and family members who lived there. Their roots were deep in Italian culture in all of its areas.

This time of year is difficult in many respects. Being brought up in an environment filled with Italians, and in a Jewish environment, I must make various choices.

My mother loved making Italian food, and this time of year would always make baked mostaccioli (photo before being baked, below).

bakedmostaccioli

She loved having her family around her, and loved being surrounded by her children, grandchildren, friends, and other people she invited over for dinner. She loved setting a table with her finest china, silverware, napkins, place mats, table cloth, etc. She took pride in everything involved in having a festive and beautiful looking table.

My brother and I would always dip our fingers into the sauce, the cheeses and the mostaccioli, even as older adults. It mattered not.

I am honoring her today, and am making baked mostaccioli. It is prepared and ready to go into the oven. I am Jewish, my mother was not. That makes no difference in the scheme of familial memories and honorifics. We will eat until we say “basta” (enough, content). We will eat and think of you! To you, dear mom, with gratitude and love.

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Sunday Scenes – December 22, 2013

motion

I took the photograph above, last month, when I was a passenger on a moving train.

The Family: Three Journeys Into the Heart of the Twentieth Century is on my to-read list.

Carl Laemmle…Holocaust Hero?

Laws and the Nazi stolen art issue continue.

Edgar M. Bronfman Sr. has died at the age of 84. Z”l

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Lake and Shadows

lake shadows

One man’s candle is light for many – Talmud on Shabbat

One generation goes and another generation comes; but the Earth remains forever.
(Kohelet 1:4)

As a Jew I am aware of how important the existence of Israel is for the survival of us all. And because I am proud of being Jewish, I am worried by the growing anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism in the world.
-Steven Spielberg

All the world is a very narrow bridge, and the most important thing is not to fear at all.” “If you won’t be better tomorrow than you were today, then what do you need tomorrow for?
-Rabbi Nachman of Breslov

Shabbat Shalom!

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Lorri M. Review: And Sons

andsons David Gilbert’s book, And Sons, opens at the funeral of one Charles Henry Topping. Within the walls of the church, A.N. Dyer, Charles’ best friend from childhood, awaits the fact that he is going to deliver a eulogy. This contributes to his reflecting back on his own life, and to the fact that he has been neglectful in many areas, especially with his three sons.

The story line can feel disconnected and/or confusing at times due to the fact that the narrator is the son of Topping. Topping’s son is the one revealing Dyer’s life. This in itself makes for a unique situation.

Set in New York City, with the upper echelons at a point of disconnect, the story is a one week trip through time, through memories and through explosive moments, as told by Phillip Topping. His narration regarding Dyer and Dyer’s family highlights the fascination the Toppings have for Dyer. Dyer is an author of wide renown and popularity. His is considered an icon, a legend in his time.

The father-son relationship is explored and expanded upon through Gilbert, and through his unique style. The constraints of wealth’s privilege is exposed in a not so kindly fashion. Respect, reflection and redemption are strong issues within the pages.

And Sons is filled with familial forces that border on emotional disregard, through neglect and lack of fatherly demonstration of love. It is a book that is both humorous and sad, and one that can leave you laughing one minute, and angry the next.

If I had to rate this book, I would give it a 3.5 star rating, with 5 being the highest. David Gilbert is sharp and vivid with word imagery and with evoking the characters with their thoughts and feelings. The novel has almost 450 pages, and the best parts, for me, were the last 150 pages.

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