I ran my first (sold-out) show at the JCC

Never Done: I ran my first (sold-out) show at the JCC

When I got to work in the afternoon to start prepping for Galeet Dardashti's Monajat concert, many of our computer systems were down, so nobody could get into the program where we write down what is happening in what room, and what the set-up needs are, and the people at the box office could not access the ticket sales records, and I could not print.

But everyone who was supposed to be there was there and was doing an fantastic job of working around our lack of information. In fact I think in some ways it was a good thing to happen on my first event, because people worked extra-collaboratively, and with such a giant flashing arrow pointing at systems error,  nobody was pointing fingers at other humans.

Well, there was some finger-pointing. We had some people who came 45 minutes late (for a one-hour show) and were upset that we had re-sold their seats. That one was my call. We had a lobby full of people who wanted to get in, and we had held the door for 15 minutes, and I made that call that ticket holders who hadn't arrived by the time the show was supposed to start would forfeit their tickets (and get refunded.) (Note to self: make new policy. Print new policy on ticket confirmations.) I didn't know what the policy is normally, and I wanted to represent the community center in the spirit of community, and I wanted to respect the people who were there, and I wanted to respect the people who had pre-purchased tickets, and in the end I decided to practice the mide (middah) of Decisiveness: Once you make a decision, act without hesitation, and make my best call and stick with it with confidence.

All this was happening on the back end of the show, and meanwhile the auditorium was buzzing with excitement and with people seeking out the last available single seats, and finally it was time for me to make my first curtain speech to a JCC audience, and I welcomed them to the JCC, to the first show of our fall season, and to my first show at the JCC, and please turn off your cell phones, and please welcome Galeet Dardashti ... and the rest was in her (extremely capable) hands.

Except it wasn't, actually. I had received a last-minute request from the artist, and had to take care of a few things so they would be ready for the post-show reception, so I slipped in and out of the performance. This posed another ethical dilemma for me. The mide (middah) of Order: All actions and possessions should have a set place and time would normally guide me to sit in the auditorium and be a fully-present audience member. My own desire to see the show would guide me in the same direction. My professional desire to know and be able to articulate the work -- also the same. Once I was in a master acting class with the incomparable actress Marian Seldes, and she spent most of the class teaching us 1) how to take care of our skin (stay out of the sun, and in the theater) and 2) how to be good audience members (sit in rapt attention, giving the actors as much attention as they give you.) I have been in audiences with Ms. Seldes, and she does in fact live true to her word. As a presenter, I would like to model excellence in audiencing (can I make a gerund out of a noun that I am pretending is a verb?) but at the same time, I have an obligation to make the entire night run smoothly, and not just the concert.

And this is what I love most about the Mussar practice; it gives me the opportunity to rethink these small (and larger) decisions, to examine my conflicting ethical obligations, and to come up with new, fresh approaches based on my reflection. Maybe I'll be sitting next to you during my next show.

I helped carry a double stroller up the subway stairs

Never Done: I helped carry a double stroller up the subway stairs

Come on people. The woman was just standing there at the foot of the stairs, with two kids in her double stroller, waiting for some help. And you all just climbed up without even noticing? Or maybe you noticed and decided you didn't want to A) take the time, B) hurt your back, or C) care.

I asked her if she needed help, and she nodded. I asked her where I should lift the stroller from, and when she just smiled I realized she was not an English speaker. So I tried again to ask where to lift from, but this time using my hands, and she showed me where. (I had never lifted a double before, and I didn't want it to tip over.) Her kids were biggish -- toddlers, not babies, and the thing was heavy. I got up to the first platform, and realized this was not a job for me (I did not want to drop her children) and so when a strapping young guy came by, I asked him if he would carry the stroller the rest of the way, and he immediately stopped to help.

This gets me thinking about the mussar mide (middah) of Righteousness: What is hateful to you do not do to others. The truth is, I really don't know what was going on for all the people who walked past her. Maybe they all had hidden injuries or pressing meetings that would prevent them from carrying a stroller. It is possible. On the other hand, I would think that if they had something very heavy to carry up the stairs, or if they got a flat tire, or if they couldn't get the lid off the pickle jar, they would want someone to stop and help them. Also, as I demonstrated, if you start to help and can't continue to help, you can still help by asking someone else to help.

I celebrated Dana's birthday

Never Done: I celebrated Dana's birthday

Every year, my friend Dana has a wonderful (or so I've heard) party for her birthday at her family's (now her) house in Canarsie. Every year that we've been friends, I've been away in Maine during her party -- and that's going to be the case again this year. There's not a lot that could make me disappointed to be in Maine, where I get to be with good old friends, and good newer friend, and the Common Ground Fair, and my family, and on the Damariscotta River, and this year for an extra bonus -- at Serena's wedding. I wouldn't trade that time for anything. But Dana's party sounds amaaahzing, and each year I wish I could be there.

So when she mentioned she was having birthday dinner with her aunt and cousin on her actual birthday, I finagled myself a reservation. I adore Dana's family. They're just like my family only nothing at all like my family. Do you know what I mean? They are warm and close and funny and sarcastic and smart and inappropriate and inclusive ... and in a totally New York way whereas my family is just like that, but in a New England way. I'd actually love to put them all in a room and see what would happen. I know what would happen. They'd start having large family gatherings together, somewhere in Connecticut. (Blue + yellow = green. New York + New England = Connecticut.)

My family would never get together at Olympic Pita Israeli kosher restaurant in Midwood Brooklyn. We'd get together at Parker's Maple Barn on the New Hampshire-Massachusetts border. But we'd stop at Rein's Deli in Vernon Connecticut and slam down pickles and white fish like the best of 'em. And I would guess that Dana's family wouldn't turn down a stack of blueberry pancakes with fresh maple syrup. And maybe my family would feel a little out of place with the Orthodox Jews, and maybe Dana's would not quite fit in with the staid New Englanders. But I still think we're basically the same family.

One of the things that's hard for me about living in NYC is that my family isn't here. I have some incredibly close friends who feel like family to me (A, J, E & L) and that goes a long way to making this place feel like home. Same thing goes when Dana invites me into her clan -- and I remember why she's so rooted here. So, thank you Dana -- for letting me celebrate with you. It's possible your party was as much of a gift to me as it was to you.

I went to Rock a Baby

Never Done: I went to Rock a Baby

I don't think I've seen Tabitha since I started my job. I've written a little about how hard it's been to see all my friends since starting my job, and she's no exception. I mean, I leave the house before 8, and I usually get home around 7, and I have all the regular life necessity things to do in between -- make dinner, make breakfast, make lunch to bring, do dishes, pay bills, do something new, blog, try to keep up with email, and get some sleep. I'm not doing so well keeping up with my friends. And I miss them. (You.) Michelle had the idea that she could bring Tabitha to the JCC and Tabitha and I could go to a class together while Michelle got an hour to herself. This was a really really really accommodating solution for me -- less so for Michelle, who had to travel an extra express stop on my behalf. And to make it even more of an elegant solution, I got to go to one of the toddler music programs in my building: Rock a Baby.

Rock a Baby is a guitar - keyboard - vocal toddler entertainment rock band who brings out puppets, maracas, balls, and bubbles to rock up their already rocking renditions of toddler classics from Old MacDonald to Wild Thing. (I wanna know for sure.) They were great -- good musicians, able to pay attention to 15 toddlers while also singing a story book. Tabitha was slow to warm up to it, and gave me lots of opportunities to make ethical decisions. First, she just seemed sort of sad and wanted to stay very close to me. As in arms and legs wrapped around me, and head leaning on my chest. At first that seemed more about missing her mom than about wanting to be close, but after a while when I could see she was also having fun (she liked it when the maracas came out) she would venture out for a little bit, and then turn and smile and come flop back on me again. She wasn't very interested in engaging with the musicians or their puppet alter-egos, and it made me alternately want to encourage her to do that, and also to just hog her for the whole time -- because it was really sweet to snuggle with her. She wasn't talking to me, so I wasn't sure what was going on for her, and I went back and forth about this in my mind, when it occurred to me that just because she wasn't talking to me didn't mean I couldn't talk to her. So I told her, "If you want, you can go dance with the puppet. I'll be right here; you can always come back. Also, it's totally fine if you want to just hang out with me."

And guess what she did? She got up, looked at me, smiled, went over to the puppet but gave up when the puppet had other kids to dance with first, and came back and snuggled with me for the rest of the class. Sometimes people just need to know what's OK to do and what's not. I mean, I need that, so why wouldn't 2-year-old? Sometimes it's easy to forget that we're all just figuring out what's OK to do and what's not.

I watched the Upright Citizen Brigade Comedy video: Fucking Tea

Never Done: I watched an Upright Citizen Brigade Comedy video Fucking Tea

Remember when I went to the Upright Citizen's Brigade and it wasn't funny? In fact it was offensive? Well, the people at UCBC have redeemed themselves by making fun of one of my favorite things in the world: tea (and those of us who love tea.) I didn't even know they made videos, but I sure do love tea. I love brewing tea. I love smelling the fragrance of tea. I love drinking tea. I love tea cups. I love tea pots. I love tea strainers. I love putting milk in tea. I love mixing teas. I love making iced tea. I love making hot tea. I love making sun tea. Most of all, I love telling people how much I love tea, and how much they should love tea. Especially the teas I love. Tea is better than coffee. It's better for you. People who drink it are superior. Especially people -- like me -- who drink herbal tea. (Which are more properly called tisanes or herbal infusions.) Because peppermint is not actually a tea; it's an herb. Tea is a specific plant species: Camellia Sinensis. Oh, you find this obnoxious? Am I maybe just a little too holier than thou about this whole caffeine thing? (At least if you drink coffee, I hope it's organic.) Oops, sorry. I did it again. Well I guess it's a good thing you people at UCBC made this video. Fucking tea.

I took Zofran

Never Done: I took Zofran

I got seasick on the ferry to Provincetown. It wasn't horrible, but it wasn't good. I'm pretty prone to motion sickness, and I've never successfully found a remedy. Normally I'm pretty safe on ferries, because they tend to be big and stable, but the Provincetown ferry we took is smallish and goes really fast and randomly swerves, as if avoiding a dead skunk on the road. I spent a little bit of the weekend worrying about the ride home, and then I remembered that I should practice Patience: Do not aggravate a situation with wasted grief, which is to say that worrying about getting seasick wouldn't actually alleviate my seasickness, but it sure would put a damper on my weekend.

But before I got that clarity, I mentioned to Mich that I was worrying about it, and she -- nurse practitioner that she is -- said, "Oh don't worry about it. We'll get you some Zofran." And once again I realized that it's not actually wasted grief if you are telling someone who can actually help you DO something about whatever you are worrying about. But patterns are persistent. I started worrying that the Zofran wouldn't work for me. Or that it wouldn't work on motion sickness, because it's really made for chemo. So I decided to tell Mich I was worrying about THAT now, and she explained that it blocks the nausea receptors in the brain and that it would in fact work. So this time, I stopped worrying for real, and just took the pills when the time came.

And guess what? It worked. I rode all the way back on the return ferry and had no problems. And the sun shone, and the people were happy, and it was good. Omeyn.

I went to a gay tea dance

Never Done: I went to a gay tea dance

Earlier this summer I was invited to volunteer at a Hampton Tea Dance, which was a gala fundraiser for the Empire State Pride Agenda. I really wanted to make a fascinator for it, wear long white gloves, and serve drinks to well-dressed gay men. I pictured it sort of like to royal wedding, but for gay people in the Hamptons. Fancy. Stately. Mint juleps on the lawn.

In the end, I couldn't go, and I thought that was the end of my hopes to go to a tea dance this summer. But no! There is a tea dance every day from 4-7 in Provincetown, and it's free from 6:45 to 7, so Mich likes to go and dance like crazy for fifteen minutes. Wait, dance like crazy? At the royal wedding? Well, it turns out that the Provincetown tea dance is far from formal. It's a techno-blaring, chest baring sweat-it-out-on-the-dance-floor mob scene. (Plus one slow-dancing lesbian couple.) We pushed in to the center as far as we could, which wasn't very far at all, and danced as much as we could, which wasn't very much at all, and I remembered that just because I've never done something before, or just because I'm with a category of people I tend to like, doesn't mean I'll suddenly enjoy something I've never enjoyed before -- like being trapped in the middle of a rowdy crowd of intoxicated people -- and so we pushed our way back out of the crowd and went to dinner.

Ethical lesson: be open to trying new things but stay true to yourself.

And then after dinner, if you are lucky, you will get to hang out with Urvashi Vaid and Kate Clinton, and you get to realize that you got to do that because you were at the tea dance when you were, and you left when you left, and you ate where you ate, and you finished when you finished, and it's not exactly that everything happens for a reason, but that if you practice Equanimity, and go with the flow, sometimes the flow ushers you somewhere wonderful and unexpected.