Pages

Sunday, February 28, 2010

Religion in Drag

There’s a first time for everything, and last Saturday was my first time to attend Purim services.

Now, understand: I’m not a highly religious Jew. Really, I’d say I’m only a Jew by heritage and somewhat mild interest. I was raised approximately 80% Christian and 20% Jewish, since my family attended church every Sunday, exchanged presents on Christmas, dyed eggs on Easter, and celebrated both my sister’s and my Baptisms and Confirmations, while the only Jewish holiday my family celebrated regularly was Passover (unless you count setting out—but often forgetting to light—the menorah at Chanukah)--and I certainly never had a bat mitzvah.

In spite of my upbringing, however, I’m not a highly religious Christian, either, and when I moved to NYC, I decided to pick and choose what holidays I would celebrate. I made my selection based upon a) the holiday's meaningfulness to me, and b) the people with whom I could celebrate. Christmas is non-negotiable, and fortunately I have been able to return to Pittsburgh to spend that holiday with my immediate family thus far. The only thing I’ve ever really liked about Easter is the music, particularly making the music, and since I am not part of an ensemble here, that holiday has fallen by the wayside. For my other favorite holiday—Passover—I was lucky enough to receive an open invitation to celebrate with my Jewish friend L____ and her extended family. It turns out that they invite tons of people to their house for this holiday, so last year I was stuffed in among a number of jovial strangers with dish after dish of delicious food. I cannot wait for this year’s Seder!

Apart from those holidays, however, I don’t celebrate much else. In fact, I don’t know about many other holidays, particularly Jewish holidays, other than Chanukah (as mentioned before) and Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year). Consequently, I was a bit surprised when I called up my friend L___ to do something this past Saturday night and received an invitation to attend servies for the Jewish holiday of Purim.

Purim is the holiday on which the Jews celebrate yet another foiled plot for their extermination. The story is told in the book of Esther (who, not-so-coincidentally, is the main female character in the story) in the Old Testament of the Bible. There’s a pretty succinct synopsis here, but the basic idea is that there is a king who is tricked into thinking it's a good idea to exterminate all the Jews, and Queen Esther changes his mind and saves them all. The point of this holiday is to celebrate her success.

While there are certain aspect of Judaism (as with pretty much all religions) I have encountered, I must say: Jews are good at nothing if they (we? can I count myself?) are not good at rolling remembrance and celebration into one big event. This is why I’ve always liked Passover—who doesn’t like hearing a good story while eating a good meal? The equation is one anyone would be amenable to: Passover = Story + Feast (so, obviously...) + Alcohol. Purim is a similar equation: Purim = Story + Alcohol + Halloween Costumes. I'm not as big a fan of the costumes as of the food, but they're definitely more irreverent, and therefore more entertaining!

To celebrate Purim, I first went to L___'s family's apartment, where her mother fed me Hamantaschen while L____ dressed up what she deemed to be a "Little Red Riding Hood" costume. (I later dubbed her "Ghetto Goldilocks" because, as I pointed out, once she took off her red coat, all she had left with was a gold "pigtail" hat and a yellow boom box purse. How could anyone associate her with little red riding hood?) Then, we walked to a nearby bar, where a pre-services singles event was happening. We mingled with two Bunches of Grapes, one Double Dare contestant, one witch, and one guy who chastised me for not wearing a costume but wasn't even wearing one himself! (I told him I was a Jersey Girl, since I had come to the Upper West side all the way from Jersey City. My lame attempt at being witty actually made him laugh, which just goes to show how awkward this entire scenario was in the first place.)

Once we were finished there, we walked to B’nai Jeshurun for the actual services. This is where the real fun started.

First, because Purim fell on a Saturday, a separate service had to be said to end Shabbat before the actual Purim service could begin. The prayers for this service were all recited in Hebrew, so I had no idea what was going on; what I did recognize, however, was the fact that they were being recited to tunes from The Sound of Music. The two individuals reciting the prayers would sometimes start clapping and the congregation would clap and chant along. One prayer even got so rhythmic that a little girl spontaneously ran out to the center of the wooden floor where the service was happening and began to break dance. Just like that, an eight-year-old was doing coffee grinders in the middle of a worship service!

Because there were so many people in attendance, all of the folding chairs on the ground level were occupied. L___'s family did not seem inclined to go up to the balcony, so our options were to either stand in the back or to sit on the floor in front of the chairs. L___ and I opted to sit on the floor. Then, about a third of the way through the Purim service, L___ pointed out two vacant chairs, and we scooted over to sit in them. Casually looking to see who was sitting to my left, I did a double-take and nearly fell off my chair. The man two seats away from me looked just like Mr. C___, my former band director. He had smart-looking wire-rim glasses, a narrow face, intense eyes, and a formerly-dark-but-now-salt-and-pepper beard. And he also had the same strong, slim legs--which I could SEE, because he was dressed in a rather short red dress with matching knee-high stockings, plus a loosely laced red corset blouse, red veil, and black wavy wig. It really was just like seeing Mr.C___ in drag, only this was made even more shocking by the fact that we were sitting in a Jewish Synagogue, celebrating a religious holiday!

Speaking of irreverence, I must make clear the fact that at least 75% of the congregation at this service had attended in costume. And this was not a markedly young crowd. Everyone from senior citizen men with canes, to pregnant mothers, to teenage sons, to three-year-old toddlers were dressed up as if Halloween had arrived early. And a cross-dressed older man was actually not the most scandalous outfit I saw. No, the most outrageous costume in the synagogue was, in my estimation, Santa Claus. When I saw this, all I could think was, "Someone is here as Santa, and no one cares. But if Christians held a costume party and someone showed up as Buddha, what would people say?!"

As if this all weren't enough, the rabbis were parading around the entire time wearing ears, whiskers, and tails, with fake money sticking out of their lapels and cigars dangling from their lips. They had entered at the beginning of the Purim service announcing that they were "fat cats" who were going to take "this Mr. America [pan to giant drop-down screen where Obama's face was projected]" to task. Did he really deserve to be Mr. America? His qualifications would be judged as follows: Swimwear (judged by photos of --you guessed it--him in swimming trunks!), Eveningwear (judged by a video of him and Michelle dancing at the inaugural ball), Oratory (judged by this video), and Talents (judged by this video, only set to music). At the end of the service, the audience voted, by way of clapping, whether or not Obama should remain his Mr. America title. Apparently at least this congregation still thinks he deserves it!

As a mere mental exercise, I have been trying to think of any Christian holiday that would a) permit its congregants to dress in drag, b) allow a child child to throw a spontaneous dance party in the middle of the service, or c) encourage its religious leaders to dress up and make fun of a current political debate. I'm not coming up with much....

Friday, February 26, 2010

Snapshot Book Review: This is Where I Leave You

This Is Where I Leave You This Is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I cannot remember the last time a book that is merely "about a family" made me laugh so many times. Tropper captures the dynamic of the "dysfunctional Foxman family" perfectly, and while this is a setup that has been used by many authors, many times before, Tropper fills out each character with enough validity and sustains each character's history, reserving the backstory just long enough to keep the reader in suspense but not so long so that we forget we were even interested in what happened to that family member.

The intricacies of the relationships are intense, but not so complicated that we cannot follow them, particularly because Tropper does an excellent job of ultimately tying them back to his narrator, Judd, who has recently discovered his wife in bed with his boss, a popular (or unpopular, depending who you ask) radio figure. The simple plot trick that brings them all together is the death of their father, who never really emerges as much of a character in the reader's eye--but this is okay, because the live characters are so much more interesting, and the point of the novel is not to learn about the deceased, anyway.

My only gripe is that, quite honestly, I didn't like Judd Foxman. As a character, or perhaps as a person, he is boring! He is a completely run-of-the-mill guy, with no special characteristics. He acts (and reacts) rather predictably, and serves as somewhat of a sounding board for the rest of the characters in the novel. His commentary can, at times, be hysterical, but as I finished the novel, I began to wonder whether they were the comments of Judd himself or the comments of Tropper. Because or are Judd and Tropper one and the same? That I would love to know.

The rest of the family members all run the risk of being stock characters, but Tropper never lets them fall over that edge. He keeps them on that realm of "real people-ism," and that in particular is what makes the events of the book especially funny. It's certainly worth a read, no matter how functional you think your family is.

View all my reviews >>

The Case of the Missing Store

Has an experience ever made you seriously question your sanity?

I had been trying to buy earrings to match this one particular dress for ages. I had gone on a few targeted shopping excursions and browsed around on a number of nights after work, but all to no avail. Thus, when my friend A___, who was visiting during New Year's, requested that we go shopping, I made that weekend my self-mandated deadline. I was going to find earrings for that dress. Period. And so I did.

Honestly, when I bought the earrings, I wasn't wild about them; I was just so sick of shopping that I let the sales girl talk me into buying the last silver pair she brought out, even though the shoes I had already purchased were champagne-colred, and even though I had hoped the earrings would look a little more . . . delicate. The pair wasn't horribly expensive, and I was beginning to doubt I'd ever find anything I actually liked; moreover, it was embarrassing to look so picky in front of my friend, so I just decided to settle. After all, I couldn't keep shopping forever. Maybe my "ideal earrings" simply didn't exist.

However--as seems to happen with every spontaneous or rash purchase I ever make-I was browsing at Macy's the very next weekend for a completely unrelated item (a bracelet to match a different outfit) when I stumbled upon what appeared to be The Perfect Earrings. They were just "un-gold" enough to match the champagne-colored shoes, and they had little purple gems dangling from their ends that were the exact shade of my dress. They weren't too big or gaudy or sparkly, and, what's more, they were 30% off. All told, they were perfect.

Of course, I purchased the earrings, intending to go to the Queens Center Mall the very next day. This way, I could shop for the bracelet (which I had failed to find at Macy's), and I could also return the now-superfluous pair of silver earrings. I had bought them at a jewelry store called Ladies and Gents, and if things worked out perfectly, hopefully I would find a bracelet at that store, make an even exchange, and be home before lunchtime!

True to my plan, I arrived at the mall on Sunday morning, armed with the earrings and receipt. Like any good girl scout (okay, true confessions: I only graduated from Brownies--I was never actually a proper Girl Scout. But I've been on enough camping trips to have learned navigation and preparedness), I immediately sought out the mall directory. I was fairly certain that Ladies and Gents--the name of this store--had been on the second floor, but as the mall had four floors and two separate buildings, I could easily be mistaken.

The obvious listing for this store would be under "Fashion/Accessories." However, as I didn't see the name there, I logically moved on to "Women's Apparel." It wasn't there, either, nor was it below the category "Other." "Well," I thought to myself, "I was just here last week. Maybe the store is so new that they haven't had a chance to add it to the directory. I'll just walk around until I see some familiar stores and can orient myself. It shouldn't be too hard to find."

Off I went. I found the Victoria's Secret store where A___ and I made not one, but two individual purchases. I found the H&M store where I got lost, and even the phone kiosk where A___ bought a screen cover, but although every time I rounded a corner, I was convinced I'd found it, Ladies and Gents was nowhere to be found. After covering the second floor, I went up to the third floor. Then, I went down to circle the first floor (even though I was 99% certain A___ and I had not even gone down there during our visit). The store, of course, was not down there, so I walked to the mall's adjacent, smaller building where there was mainly a food court, a bunch of kiosks, and a few small stores, and followed the same protocol. To no avail. Aggravated, I returned to the main building, circled the second floor a second time, and then rode the escalator up to the fourth floor, convinced that even if I could not find the store up there (since I knew for sure that A___ and I had not been to that floor), maybe I would glimpse it below.

Finally, in complete frustration and embarrassment, I entered another accessories store and asked at the counter. Part of my embarrassment stemmed from the fact that, at this point, I wasn't even sure I was correctly remembering the name of the store. It wasn't listed on the receipt, so maybe I was making it up? It had to be something at least remotely similar though!

"I'm sorry," I said to the salesgirl, "but I'm looking for this other accessories store. I think it's called Ladies and Gents...or something like that? It's this big square store with a completely white walls. It just sells accessories; no shoes or any sort of apparel."

The girl conferred with her coworker, and they agreed that the store was on the second floor--like I had originally thought!--"back toward Macy's." I thanked them and headed down the escalator, back the way I had come.

As I approached the entrance to Macy's, I still did not see Ladies and Gents, so I stopped at a jewelry kiosk and asked the attendant if she knew where the store was located. She looked a bit puzzled and claimed she had never heard of it. I was now starting to panic, just a little bit. Stores did not just disappear. Why could I not find this place? A___ and I had definitely been here last week--I had these stupid earrings to prove it! Was I completely blind? And why did no one seem to know exactly where it was?

Since the store was allegedly "by Macy's," I walked into the department store, right up to a woman at the perfume counter, and asked her if she had heard of this store and if she knew where it was. She shook her head but said that her colleagues were more likely to shop at that sort of store, so they might. She found a blond, overly lipsticked girl, who came over smiling brightly and seemed to have news.

"Oh Ladies and Gents! Yeah, that store used to be right next door."

Used to be?

"It's so weird because it was there one day, and I came in the next day and it was just gone! Like, it had closed, and that wall had been built right over it."

We all turned and looked out through the glass doors of the perfume department. She was right--there was long, a freshly painted white wall to the right of the store. That was where I had bought these earrings?

"But I was here just last weekend," I told her.

"I know! It was so weird for a store to suddenly close like that. If I hadn't known it was there before, I never would have known it even existed!"

I look at the earrings in my hand, thinking that the Twilight theme song should probably start playing. Well, at least I wasn't going completely insane.

But never let anyone tell you that "____ doesn't just disappear." It might!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Snapshot Book Review: Post Office

Post Office Post Office by Charles Bukowski

My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Take a grouchy, crotchety old bum. Put him in a miserable job working for the postal service. Add booze, old women, young women, dogs, snow storms, rain storms, crazy customers, and a dose of very plain, abrasive language that suits the form of the novel, and you have Post Office. I admire this book (and its author) for the simple fact that it achieves what it sets out to do--or, perhaps, be--very successfully. The language Bukowski uses perfectly suits the narrator, his station in life, and the situations he describes.

Unfortunately, well chosen language does not necessarily give a book purpose. I felt a lack of purpose as I read this book and was disappointed to find that I did not feel any sense of discovery or accomplishment after having finished it. Thus, while the writing itself was reasonably entertaining for a language enthusiast such as myself, the novel fell short of my literary expectations for, well...a novel.

View all my reviews >>

Monday, February 15, 2010

Snapshot Book Review: Sati

Sati Sati by Christopher Pike

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I should reread this book and come back to the 5-star ranking, but I remember LOVING it and getting a lot out of it philosophically. Then again, I read it in my "youth" (and thought it was so novel and groundbreaking), but if Ayn Rand deserves 5 stars, then Pike deserves at least one 5-star book as well, for as many of his novels as I adored in my adolescence.

View all my reviews >>