I wear orange for Hadiya

#EverytownForGunSafety #MomsDemandAction #WearOrange #TheSandyHookPromise

Early Saturday morning, I woke up after having climate change nightmares. These were not just hot flashes — I had real nightmares about the life of our planet. Think the Lorax, on crack. I wrote a post, Blog, Shmog: An Interview Today, poking some acerbic wit at mr t, orange-in-chief, and then I left to head over to the Wear Orange March. This march was not about global warming. It was the about senseless gun violence in our country. Yet another topic t won’t touch. After all, the NRA, they own him.

Hadiya Pendleton, 15 years old, was shot in the back. Gunned down while standing inside Harsh Park with her friends in Chicago in 2013. Just one week earlier, she performed live with her school band at President Obama’s (second) inauguration. Her murder occurred less than one mile from the Obama’s Chicago home. Hadiya, an honors student, volleyball player, band member, daughter — her future was bright in so many ways. The cause of death: shot by mistaken gang rivalry. The shooters, gang members, they told police that she was standing with people they thought were from a rival gang. It was a mistake. Michelle Obama attended her funeral. By that January day in Chicago, she was already the 42nd murder by firearm. A real shonda (shame) for her, her family, our world.

The gates of tears are never shut. Di toi’ern fun treren zeinen kain mol nit farshlossen.

Saturday morning was cool, raining. Hadiya would have been 20 years young on June 2 of this year. Her birthday now represents National Gun Violence Awareness Day across our country. Her brightness is now the color orange, the same color worn by hunters, so as to be seen and not shot. It is the color of gun violence prevention. Less than 100 of us gathered. Many moms held laminated photos of the children they lost to gun violence. We all talked. I told them I was there for Hadiya, and for the Sandy Hook Promise. When we failed all of those children and their teachers who gave their lives protecting them, I knew I had to do more. I couldn’t just sign a petition and call Senator Twomey’s office again. I had to enlist in the fight.

In the US, gun violence kills 93 people every single day — almost 34,000 lives per year. That includes murder, suicide, and accidental death. In Philadelphia, last year our number was 278. Almost 1 life per day. These numbers are stunning, but they must not leave us hardened. We must work harder than we ever have before.

Our kinder (sweet children) deserve better. Hadiya dreamt of going to Northwestern University. She wanted to become a pharmacist, a journalist, or a lawyer. She was a good kid. Hadiya, she deserved better.

Guns are a very large problem in this country. I do not think that our founding fathers had gang members, mental illness, violent domestic abuse, accidental death and suicide in mind when they created the second amendment. I believe there is some good legislation out there (SB 501 for stronger gun control rights) that needs enforcing, and I believe there are some horrible laws on the books (SB 383 that arms school staff, teachers, and boards). Vey iz mir (OMG), we need to make some drastic changes.

Last I checked, we were ONE human race. How can we all begin to walk with empathy and love in our hearts? When will we begin to embrace all of our very unique and beautiful differences, instead of fearing them? I will do that for Hadiya. I will do that for all of those families from Sandy Hook. I will do that for everyone affected by senseless gun violence. We need to do that for all the kinder (children).
Please join me.

Death doesn’t knock on the door (and warn you of it’s impending arrival). Toyt tut nit klapn aoyf di tir.

Live every minute of every day.

     

      

    

      

 

 

 

A Midsummer Day and Night’s Performance

Big and her buds, preparing before the show.

This past weekend, my kinder (children) participated in our annual tradition, the Dance Recital. All year long, my shana maidelehs (sweet girls) have been studying ballet, and Big has added jazz to her repertoire. My Mrs., she too was central to the studies, as the chief shlepper (hauler, dragger) and nosherie (snack provider) to our mini prima’s.

If you can ever imagine me, at my very happiest space, it’s watching my kinder do what they love, and they do love to dance, in full regalia on stage. Kvelling (beaming with pride) and grinning until my punim (face) hurts, I am. It’s the tahkeh (absolute, certain) truth.

This year, the Wissahickon Dance Academy presented Shakespeare’s, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The choreography was so beautiful. The talent, remarkable. They really put on an awesome production. After, all of the other forms of dance performed. Jazz, hip-hop, tap, modern — it was naches (the satisfaction gained from life’s gifts) for everyone in the audience.

Last night, I asked my kinder about the show and what A Midsummer Night’s Dream was about. Here is what they said:

Little: It’s about a donkey and an umm, queen and a king. And what was Z in the second show? Oh yeah, the queen’s daughter. And a man who turns into a donkey and fairies and umm, and an umm, wood sprites. ‘Cause that’s what (Big) was, a wood sprite. I liked when the donkey, who was really Jakiel, eats the grass and when he was really funny with the audience.

Big: So there’s a Queen, Titania, and she has a husband and they get in a big fight. Puck comes and, the husband, he asked Puck if he can borrow these magic flowers that if you sprinkle them on someone, the first person they see, they will fall in love with. You have to do it to people only while they are asleep. And so, he umm, he did it on Titania — sprinkled the flower stuff. And then, these actors come out, and Puck grabs one of them and gives him a donkey head. He (the Donkey) scares all the actors away. And then, he accidentally trips over Titania. She wakes up and falls in love with the donkey because of the flower magic. She was supposed to fall in love with her husband, but they had a big fight about their daughter. Then, I know! They both (Titania and the Donkey) go to sleep and then the husband has the magic flower and he sprinkles it on Titania and she wakes up and falls madly in love with him again. Puck comes on and takes the donkey head away, and that is all I know. Ohhh, and the whole thing, it was the Donkey-headed guy’s dream! That’s why he scratched his head at the end.

I asked them, what was the best part of being in the recital?

Big: I just love dancing. I liked the flowers on my costume, and I liked how the bottom was like a tutu, and I liked the wings.

Little:  I really like twirling, twirling a lot.

The littles of the elementary ballet! Too cute, these kinder!

In Act II, my Little, she danced with her elementary ballet class to Once Upon a Dream from Sleeping Beauty. Big, she was an orphan in Annie, dancing with her class in jazz 1 to, Hard Knock Life

Big: I loved it. It was fun because I love Annie, I love that song, it is fun to pretend to be orphans and that dance is just fun.

Little: My dance was from sleeping beauty. I don’t know what it was about, but I got to twirl. I liked the roses on my costume and twirling. I liked when (Big) danced with the bucket and slammed it on the floor too.

All in all, I was beaming. And for two shows, a couple of hours each, I actually forgot about the mishegas (craziness) that is happening in our world. Such a simcheh (joyous occasion) I wish for all of you!

Thank you for letting me go on about my kinder today.

       

      

      

      

 

I’m feeling a little ‘Pre-Inaugeral,’ You?

This picture illustrates how I feel post election, pre-inaugeral. Yes. I'm definitely a little pre-inaugeral.
This picture illustrates how I feel. Pre-inaugeral. Yes. I’m definitely a little ‘pre-inaugeral.’ I’d like to be re-inaugeral.

“Are we going to lose our insurance with Mr. t-elect,” The Mrs. said as she sobbed into the phone.

“Honey. We may. But at least we know they will offer free conversion therapy!”  (whaaah – whaaaaah)

“No really, it’s a shanda (real shame, scandal) what can happen. It’s starting already.”

 

“What does ‘pre-inaugeral’ feel like?”

It’s like, you know.  When you look at at him and his cabinet. You see a crowd of people, and not one person among them. A groyse oylem un nito uyn mentsch.

 

“Are you going to watch it, next week?”

“I thought a lot about this. Yes. I must. Nancy Pelosi says it is her job to be there. Hillz will be there. I must watch. I must know.  It is history. Who would have believed it? Ver dolt dos gegleybt?”

 

“Will we be okay?”

“If the world will ever be redeemed, it will be only through the merit of the children. Oib de velt vet verren oisgelaizt, iz es nor in zechus fun kinder.”

 

Here we go.  A bi gezunt. As long as you are healthy.

 

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Presence vs. Presents: A wordless Wednesday

My Bashert (my heart)
My Bashert (my heart)
What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul! And this family can laugh!
What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul! And this family can laugh!
The love of eating goes deep, shows early, and can't be taught. Hymie's whitefish salad!
The love of eating goes deep, shows early, and can’t be taught.
Hymie’s whitefish salad! TDF…
Frayndshaft (friendship), nothing like it!
Frayndshaft (friendship), nothing like it!
Shep naches (get such pleasure from) these faces...
Shep naches (get such pleasure from) these faces…

What a wonderful couple of weeks we have had, this holiday season. We are so rich with love! ❤

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Let the Sun Shine: wordless wednesday

Di zun shaynt far itlekhn umzist. The sun shines on everyone for free.

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Ven nit di shein, volt kain shoten nit geven. If not for the light, there would be no shadow.

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Have I got an idea?

We are practicing climbing walls and fences, you know, in case we should need such a skill
We are practicing climbing walls and fences, you know, in case we should need such a skill

Dear Mr. President, can I call you Barack?

I mean I do feel that close to you. You are my president and the president of my family. You and the Supremes actually are responsible for making us visible, and I am forever grateful for your wisdom and intellect. You have done so much good for us all. I am so proud to have you and Michelle as our Potus and Flotus. Oy gevalt (woe is me), how I could go on and on?

But given the current situ at hand, I feel I should be less verbose and strike my point early. Things are batshit crazy in our country feel a bit unsettling with the impending Mr. Macher (scheming social climber) Elect’s upcoming inaugural. So I got to thinking. You know that phrase; I think it’s a Cherokee Proverb (we won’t tell Mr. Macher T that, it will just anger him further), “Don’t judge a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes.” Well maybe, as you and Michelle are packing up your things, you leave behind one pair of shoes in the Potus closet.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll try them on. And like Cinderella, whose shoes forever changed her life, your Potus powered ‘kicks’ that you have been ‘commander-in-chief-ing’ around in for the past eight years will do something magical for the mystifying Mr. Macher T. Perhaps when he laces up, and potchka’s (keeps busy with no clear end in sight) about in the oval office, he will sense your compassion, empathy and willingness to hear and be open. Possibly, right in those moments of strolling in your very experienced and authentic set of shoes, he will f*cking quit his narcissistic and sociopathic ways and get a clue better understand the feelings, perspectives and emotions of we the people…who are all searching for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness together.

Michelle, she doesn’t need to leave any pumps or even sneakers behind, for I just learned that Mrs. Macher T will not be living in the White House. We should only be so lucky for the rest of this meshuggeneh (crazy) clan.

Now, a lot is riding on this shoe idea, but given the circumstances that stand before us, we have to start somewhere. And, it may be easier than taking out the Electoral College.

Thank you Barack, for all you have done and continue to do every day. I welcome any ideas you may have towards passing the baton with the same set of leadership, integrity, morals and ethics that you bring to the party each and every day. You Barack, are a true mensch (decent, good and honorable human being).

Very sincerely yours,

Lisa

Di shich fun oreman’s kind vaksen miten fisel. The shoes of the poor man’s children grow with their feet.

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