Danielle Speaks

What is in the fine print?

Arbeit Macht Frei- work will set you free. (written on the gates of Auchwitz)

Last night I went out to Dinner at the Dressler (Dumont's fancier sister restaurant across the street from the Uber fancy Gretch building- it was EH)

I was with my mother, my father, and my cousin Gabriel from Rome.  I was not really paying attention to the couple next to us - from a side glance I could tell you that they obviously were on a first or newish date. He was muscular but pale and hipstery, she was kind of a hottie- a big breasted rockabilly Latina. That was all the facts I registered before losing interest in people watching them.  My mom was telling Gabri some family gossip for the one millionth time because his grandfather - my mother's first cousin, won't tell him the dirt. At this point I could retell how "Pepino met a woman on the train, got off in Florence and had sex with her, twenty years later Olivia showed up at the door. My grandmother told my mother, Uncle Pepino just had a baby..except she already wears shoes and talks" (its funnier in Italian) Anyhoo- some mention of the 1940s were made- were they hid during the war and therefore why some people moved to Bogota, some people left for South Africa and no one ever heard from them etc... Then at another point we had a small discussion of what to order, Gabby is Kosher, we are not so he chose...etc Needless to say we were a table of Jews having a pleasant enough evening.

All of the sudden, I looked across to my father and his face was so angry and green, I had not seen this face since he grounded me when I was 14 for staying out too late with my first boyfriend. I thought maybe he was not feeling well or maybe Mom said something that I did not catch that pissed him off- but he would have just said something- no one in my family has a verbal gate. I asked him what was wrong. He grabbed my forearm really tightly and said, " I am offended by this young man's tattoo"  I looked next to me and there it was: "Arbeit Macht Frei"  Underneath it was a Jewish star.  Then my father says, "If I were 20yrs younger I would punch this guy in the face"  "Your grandfather was there!" He meant my mother's father not his. Again I was struck by how much more emotion stirred up in his face than hers. She was only momentarily panicked and then returned to enjoying her cousin.

I started to feel upset in a weird way- my brain tried to make sense of the situation. Gabri being used to extreme politicking and protesting his country immediately decided that it was not an anti-semitic statement but a fascistic statement. But mom, weirdly unaffected- considering she is the survivor, said "thats bullsh*t he is just a stupid misguided putz"

My dad was boiling. I started to feel more nervous. My father has never ever hit another person ever! He never had to when he was a kid because his older brother took care of him.  He was threatened a couple of times when was in the south in the 60s but he threatened back his way out of it. 
 
How now at 66 in a Williamsburg restaurant could I witness my fantastically unmacho Dad hit another person. He's a Doctor- he took an oath to heal- he is the one that remains calm- but I could see this strange hurt in his face. It was something personal, something that had nothing to do with me. It was something he had not worked out and perhaps never will but he was alive during a time that I was not.  I remember in Kavalier and Clay ( one of my most favorite books ever- please read it!) I was struck by the parts of the book that wrote about Jews in the US during WWII and how they were in someways denialists feeling like acknowledging the war was gosh and on the hand suffering a terror of the unknown about to strike them. Some had family over there. Some managed to bring people here- and the stories were simply unbelievable.  It created a generation of guilty living Jews who managed to escape the horror and live the American dream. I wonder if my father's fantastical nightmare somehow exceeds my mother's reality. Or maybe he just was pissed and there is no determining.

All is know is that what perhaps disturbed me the most was that there is a chance that this person tattooed his arm and has no idea how truly upsetting it was. Work did not set anyone free.  Is this boy somehow a ramification of the continuing conspiracy theory that the Holocaust was a myth. Is it a statement against GWB and his politics concerning the loose connections between democratizing Arab nations and supporting Israel? I don't know. I am not a knee jerk Zionist nor am I the kind of Jewish person who maintains tradition in her life. I just live my life aware of my history and that sometimes it makes me different. But last night I felt genuinely threatened and I did not like it- I did not like remembering that I could die for hate. Its different from 911 or traveling through India as an American during wartime, or getting stuck in the mud in the middle of the night in a jungle in Costa Rica (tee hee- I almost forgot about that!).

It's personal.

A note from Little Miss Head in the Clouds

I am home sick with the Flu. I partied too hard on Thursday night and pushed a slight cold in over drive. So my dad phoned me and joked that my private physician was coming into town to beat me up. Mom cancelled her plans. She made me a vat of chicken soup. Dad brought tissues, anti-biotics and hugs.  Something always happens when I get together with my folks and we eat dinner: Dad tells me stories. He has so many. In fact I can honestly say with no bitterness that my dad has led a way more fascinating life than I have. Things happened to him a long the way and he genuinely believes that when certain things had no logic to them that it was because some ancestor prayed in heaven to bring him his fortune. (Yes there is a heaven in Judaism as much as I joke that there is not)  I thought that was kind of funny. I honestly believe that I could write verbatim the story of his life and win a pulitzer. But I guess that wouldn't be mine.

Although there are things that I don't have right now in my life that I would like, there are things that I was born with that balance it out a lot. My parents are truly in love and are best friends. It never stops being amusing or inspiring and it always raises the bar for what I want.  This night's evening of story telling came out of my dad telling me how he spoke to a bunch of high school students. My mom arranged this talk because she works a lot with high schoolers trying to inspire them to become science majors in college. If they agree they get to go to schol often for free and they get mentorship. He told them how he became a doctor. I guess she thought that his sort of poor beginnings, his brooklyn roots and the anomaiies in his past would inspire them- and it did!   He told them a personal story- and surprisingly there were actual parts of the story that I had not heard before.

I won't go into the stories because well- they're my inheritance ( and my sister's of course) but I will say that I have always been brought up to believe that I am not just a life on this earth but a piece of a history - a collective legacy. I am a gift to my family. Even the relatives that I don't like- and they a gift to me.  I am a life lived that did not die as some of my ancestors did before and thats pretty special. I have been so whiny  and blue, and now sick but this night uplifted me because I remembered that it is my duty to live life well- it's a family tradition!!!! Try harder- live purer, see more that it there in front of my eyes.

Grazzia Per tutti mamma e papa - ti voglio bene!!

Speaking of family I must write of one more cute thing! Last night I went over to the house of my evil red headed step sister- Humdrum Moishela!  There, my old buddies and I chased a mouse, gorged on Pizza and made fun of Tomtom- good times good times. Then after T2 and Jflo left,  Mogwai and I ( I have 103 names for her) had unwittingly fallen into French lessons. She had these Mr and little Miss Books in French!!!!:

I had been talking to her about how I wanted to take French lessons once a week for cheap. We discussed various options and I joked that I would gladly pay her the 25 an hour.  Then I started to read out loud the books and translate. She was stern and corrected my pronunciation a long the way- she has perfect French diction! I really did learn and  I really did enjoy learning through the Mister Happy books. In fact at one point we stopped and discussed briefly in French why certain things were pronounced in a certain way and I learned Grammar!!!!!!!!! I told her that we should meet for tea and read French Mr Happy books once a week- she said yes but she might just be teasing!  oh well Bella still loves you Moishe- even if I am NOT represented in your favorite pics folder on your blog hmmmmmph!! But then again no one else got French lessons.

BTW- the book we read was Little Miss Head in the Air= Madamoiselle Tete en L'Air.  I kept calling her Little Miss Head in the Clouds. I highly recomend these if you are looking to learn.

Held Hostage in SI

So much for even pondering whether or not to go out tonight- I called my crazy mother. I sounded even worse today then yesterday as my voice is totally gone- I think I have the plague. She is coming to pick me up and hold me hostage for one night at home to get better- I do not know what magic Drs Mom and Dad think they have that can cure this plague but perhaps its worth the shot- Ginger tea and neti pot episodes just aren't cutting it.  Pray to your respective gods- let the sickness finally end People!!!!!! Otherwise this blog is gonna get even more boring- live snot blogging- cough meters, medicine tallies. (I told y'all I was going nuts) Ok off to the ROCK- toodles.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

Leo Tolstoy (1828 - 1910), Anna Karenina, Chapter 1, first line

Its been a really long and fulfilling and crazy week. I took my job to the next level and got a long verbal, "hey you're really great you really pulled through and I am really proud of you" And you know what- its nice. I went to three birthdays in a row and went without sleep for three days subsequently getting really ill! Then as we universally tense our shoulders for quality family time on the big Turkey day while celebrating the rape and pillaging that the WASPY puritanical forefathers of this country are responsible for while usurping land under the guise of "manifest destiny" (breath) I get a shocked call from mom. My ex Uncle AKA my blood related Aunt's ex husband- boring super nebishy Westchester golf pants wearing "Uncle Bones" was arrested for the illegal possession of $100,000 worth of super sophisticated weaponry- some of it so rare and top secret that they are calling in the feds! The police arrested him and posted his face on Channel 7 news both at 5pm, 11pm and the next day on-line.  The dude was so psychotic that he was target practicing  in his CLOSET; the bullets rang through a house next door and slid past a baby's bedroom. My questions are many but one of the questions is this: If my crazy Uncle had been target practicing for a while now using special rubber coated bullets called "Cop Killers", which go through the bullet proof vests, thereby piercing her house for god knows how long- why did she just tell the cops now? She made some stupid remark like- "its just scary what could have happened to my kids! Lady! You don't sit around wondering- you dial 911 and move the kid to the den!

I have no idea why my Uncle was collecting firearms, especially exotic ones like lighters that shot of rounds and special paramilitary like oozies- one friend noted that maybe he was a supplier- he's rich and he owns a gas station- that never quite computed in my head. My belief is that he is preparing for WWIII- he wants to tender his fantasies of being a street commando ready and armed for when the terrorists come and upend everything. Either way this tickled me until I saw his mugshot on the Web. Then my heart sunk and I felt ill.
I'm sad for my cousins- they are just college age- its raw at that time and I don't think they have a single sane adult to guide them. My Aunt is truly Bipolar- she has such extreme swings of manic that it frightens me a little some times- I am told that ferocious temper actually disqualifies her for that exact diagnosis as their manic phases are only happy ones- can this be true? Anyhow sometimes its cute and quirky like when had performances around the city trying to ignite a vaudeville like career singing. Her energy and laugh can be vivacious and a saving grace in an all together mundane holiday setting. She tries to know whats going on and be involved in what her kids want- but she is not so cute when she stalks a married guy sneaks into his house and rolls around in his bed, or when she calls ex girlfriends of family members and invites them on trips or when she yells at people in the middle of their special B-mitsvahs or weddings- then its not cute. Needless to say this total out-spurt of private emotions and thoughts not too mention the frightening lunacy of it all frightens the shit out of my dad. Its his little sister- he's rather insular and private and well functioning in the outer world.

I guess old soporific Uncle Bones had some fire in him yet. He's being held without bail for an undetermined time under the charge of reckless endangerment. I have no idea what the penalty for that is- but I can tell you this- albeit not blood related and not even in the family anymore, this is the first family penal scandal- Looks like we'll be carving pink elephant this Thursday.