Answering Rabbi Daniel Cohen's Questions

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

The Questions Appear in Rabbi Cohen's New Book 

The book is *What will they say about you when you are gone: Creating a Life of Legacy - Live Your Best Life Now* and the questions are ones that -- since my parents (z"l) are gone and I'm 50+ -- I'm especially in the mood to consider these days:

From pp. 13 and 15-17:

1. Who are you? A Jewish-American lesbian writer, as well as a music, fiction and global museum lover, and a solvent home owner and healthy eater, who has enjoyed the companionship of my wife for nearly 25 years so far, who has parented up to two precious cats at a time for close to a decade, who has been grateful for the siblinghood of my two older sisters Deb and Kayla for nearly 52 years and who comes from fascinating parents (z"l), who loved me and wanted a good life for me. I'm also an aunt, a cousin, a friend and an IBMer, who manages a team of premier instructional designers and who is earnest, loyal and reliable, with occasional lapses into worry that are mostly unfounded, and with flashes of creativity and humor.
2. Who do you want to be? The same, minus the worry, and plus more discipline, practice and personal success with my writing. 
3. How do you want to be remembered? For everything in #1 and #2 plus for being kind, inclusive and for being of service.
   By your family:
   As supportive and loving.
   By your community:
   As engaged and valued.
   By the world:
   As someone whose writing helped people appreciate their lives more and whose writing and work helped people excel and advance. And as someone with a capacity for joy.
4. Pick one person, place or event in your life that brings you happiness and satisfaction, and write down in a journal the various ways it might not have happened: Easily, I could never have gotten together with my wife Pat, since she lived in DeKalb, Illinois and I lived in Chicago, and since I could have not been at Shabbat services when she first visited Or Chadash, the LGBT shul in Chicago at the time, and since we were 15 years apart in age, and since initially, I was afraid to get involved with anyone as amazing as Pat, since I felt still unmoored and still was searching in most ways throughout my twenties to that point, and if Pat hadn't been more self-possessed, patient and clever in drawing me in. :-)
5. Then imagine your life without that person/place/event and write that down, too: If Pat & I had not gotten together, I might still be living alone in an apartment, whether in Chicago or Queens/Brooklyn/Bronx and searching for without ever finding any peace. Probably, I'd never have a deeper pet relationship than with a Siamese fighting fish if not for Pat, as she showed me the wonder of cat parenthood. Also, I would not be as solvent as I am, since Pat made me save the maximum in my 401K from 27 onward. And assuredly, I would be twice the worrier that I am; Pat's self-assurance rubs off on me.
6.  Choose the final words you'll ever speak: Thank you, God, and everyone.

Writing Your Own Eulogy, pp. 17-19:
"If you had to write your own eulogy, what would it say? Use the following questions as inspiration, and then craft a eulogy for your own funeral."

1. What would you do if you had twenty-four hours to live? Why? I'd spend it with my wife, cats, sisters, nieces and nephews and cousins and friends in my home and yard if the weather were warm enough and my favorite music would be playing in the background, say, the George Michael and Sade channels of Pandora. I would serve Indian, Middle-Eastern, Mexican and French food that was catered from favorite restaurants. I would invite one of my congregation's rabbis and some congregants and friends to come over and sing favorite liturgical songs and I'd set up a Hebrew University scholarship for an LGBT student for however many years I could afford to do so without making Pat insolvent. Why: I want the people and pets I love to surround me, along with my favorite music and food, as well as to cover the spiritual element and the g'milut chassadim (acts of loving kindness) angle.
2. What is worth fighting for? Dignity, love, art, humanity, beauty, truth, freedom, creative expression, inclusion.
3.  In your life so far, what have you taken a risk for or gone out of your comfort zone for? Living my life as a lesbian; whenever I've needed to learn something new; every time I've taken a new job at work, including a six-month assignment in India with Pat accompanying me  ... homosexual activity is illegal in India and necessarily, my employer told me that it could not protect me if I were jailed; any time I need to go to a party or a meeting, where practically everyone is a stranger initially.
4. You have five words to write on your headstone. What are they? A dignity and love champion.
5. When you're feeling low, what song do you play to lift your mood and inspire you? Why? Two come to mind: "The Right Track" from Pippin and "Gesher Tsar Meod". Why: The "Pippin" song is cheerful and helps me remember that I'm doing my best to lead a meaningful life, and that I'm not alone in my worry that I want it to be as meaningful as possible. "Gesher Tsar Meod" encourages me not to be fearful and when I'm not fearful, everything goes better.
6. Is there a phrase that you find yourself saying frequently when you're under stress? When you're happy or grateful? When I'm under stress, I say to myself the first sentence of the Shema, the central prayer of Judaism. And I hear my mother (z"l) saying, "Sarah, why don't you let yourself live?" (as in, relax, everything will be Ok). And also, if it has to do with gathering courage to deliver a difficult but necessary message, I tell myself: "Sarah, pull yourself together! He/she/they need you!" When I'm grateful, I tend to say, "Thank God!" and simply, "Yay!"
7. Describe your best day or your best self: My best self is humble, of service, kind, loving, self-possessed, reliable, present, creative, experimental, funny, stylish, fit, attentive, receptive, friendly, organized, on time, lucid, persuasive, inviting, encouraging and productive.
8. What is your favorite Bible verse, poem, or motto? "Al tifrosh min hatsibur"/ "Don't isolate yourself from the community," *Pirkei Avot* / *Ethics of the Fathers*.
9. Why are you here? What is your life mission? What do you hope to achieve? I'm here to model dignity from the margins was the first thing I thought of, but why focus on my marginal status? Because if I can demonstrate dignity as someone in society whose sexual minority status if not also religion and gender can be marginalizing, then anyone can. I get that I have all sorts of privilege in my education level and solvency, and citizenship, by accident of birth, but still, I also know from being an outsider. Why is dignity so key to me? Because it's the opposite of shame to me. Shame paralyzes while dignity makes anything and everything good possible.
   
   What is my life mission? To create something artful that uplifts someone else or many people.
   
   What do I hope to achieve? I hope to achieve peace and unconditional acceptance within myself while remaining loved and loving, and grateful, and amused, and expanded by art of all sorts and while having fun and other vivid experiences.
10. What are your dreams? How can you realize them? My dreams are to write a popular book that helps others, and me, feel less alone; to stay solvent; for Pat & me to remain healthy mentally and physically till we're at least 95 and then to die in a way that is least painful to us and our loved ones.
    
    I can realize these dreams by starting to practice writing more routinely, including enrolling in adult writing classes; by revising what I've written .... I can keep working full-time in my stimulating and relatively lucrative role at IBM .... I can keep rowing for 20 minutes daily and reading books every night pre-bed and encouraging Pat to stay active with pruning, gardening and golfing along with reading and working on crossword puzzles as she loves to do.

These questions were great to answer, though I'm not yet prepared to draft my own eulogy.

Page 43: Give thanks every day to one important person in your life. Today, I thanked my friend Mindy for inviting me to her fun birthday party and for providing an orange to me when I didn't prefer cake.

Valentine's Day Weekend Prose Poem

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Love Sickness Healed

It started last weekend when I read Gary Shteyngart's reminiscence on
Falling in love with Becky (Scroll down) while reading *Tom Sawyer* at nine.
Flashed back and realized that I felt similarly moved...or maybe I fell in love with
Romantic love then. It was the literary version of the awakening I felt at 10 -- and
I've mentioned this here before -- when(ever) I heard Minnie Riperton sing, "Lovin' You".

Earlier this week, I read Karl Ove Knausgaard's "Come Together" in "The New Yorker" and
Identified with both the boy and the girl, but especially the boy, who was smitten with
The girl, but didn't know how to handle it gracefully. I identified with the girl because
I had been in hapless kissing situations with boys during bar mitzvah parties when we were
In middle school, where I felt I was supposed to count on the boy to know what he was doing.

Yesterday, a boy from my Modern Orthodox Jewish day school sent me email -- a boy with an
Identical twin brother, and whom I hadn't seen since I was 17, during my dad's funeral and
We didn't speak then, just mourned; we hadn't talked since we were 13, when we graduated and went off to different high schools. I called him and we had a warm conversation. I hung up,
Trying to remember which twin was the one who might have had a crush on me back then.
I felt sad. Wistful.

Why couldn't I have been heterosexual and have ended up with him, or my Israeli, male,
Childhood friend, or my high school/early-college boyfriend, or the new Lehigh alumnus I met
In New Rochelle at the Young Jewish Singles Dance the summer before my Junior year of college,
Or any of the men I met during my year in Jerusalem at 20? Why did I fall for Tom Sawyer's
Girlfriend? Why did "Lovin' You" feel like it was being sung to me? Why did I want to kiss my
Female day-school classmates more than my male ones?

Why couldn't I have been someone else? Isn't that what I'm asking? How ungrateful, if
Reasonably human-nature-ish. Suddenly, I feel the urge to find out which classic rock band
I am via a Buzzfeed quiz. (The Eagles.) And then I hear my beloved wife, laughing heartily
Downstairs. I'm drawn to learn more.

Top 10 Things I Appreciate About...

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Pat, My mom, My Sisters Deb and Kayla

In today's "New York Times", Bruce Feiler wrote an essay that inspired me to tell the four people with whom I am closest in the world -- my wife, my mom and my two older siblings -- what I appreciate about them. He talked of Dr. Shelly Kagan's point to tell our loved ones what they mean to us sooner, rather than later.

Feiler also quoted film critic Roger Ebert, who reminded us that we shouldn't try to compare ourselves to similar scenes in the movies, since, "...those scenes are well-written, directed, and performed by professionals." In that spirit, I'll try to be fearless or at least less self-conscious in creating and posting these lists:

Pat, you are:

1. The funniest person I know, and without being cruelly so
2. Inclined toward doing g'milut chasadim (acts of loving kindness), for example, suggesting that we use our prayers that we were posting in the Western Wall in behalf of the sick granddaughter of a couple in our Israel tour group (who had been strangers just days prior)
3. Lovely physically, including your green eyes, dimples, pretty mouth, tall height, appealing gait and more
4. Jewish like me
5. Nearly photographic with your memory; you know the answer to almost any question I ask because, "I read it somewhere," you say simply
6. Action-oriented -- which has rubbed off on me and made me more disciplined, for example, with completing chores -- and your related, dedicated work ethic; you even treat volunteer-work like a job
7. Innocent, rather than cynical, that is, you prefer naïveté over suspiciousness
8. Accomplished, including having earned an M.S. in Pysch, an MBA, and an M.S. and Ed.D. in Education, and multiple executive jobs in Higher Ed. with giant responsibilities before retiring, and the incoming president of Essex County Master Gardeners
9. Well-coordinated -- a great dancer and graceful in sports
10. Attracted to me.

Mom, you are:

1. Vocally proud of me, which makes me feel good and validated and encouraged and emboldened
2. Available whenever I want to talk with you, including offering encouragement when I need it
3. Funny and also readily amused by the world around you, including me
4. Intellectually curious and interactive/interrogative, especially during Q&A's at lectures, always contributing a nugget as well as asking the best questions
5. A good arbiter of what makes for interesting art/cultural experiences, including movies, music, lectures...
6. Creative, for example, in:
   • Amassing the Jewish folk art collection you have over your lifetime so far
   • Designing cultural programs for the Jewish Historical Society of Greater Stamford and the Stamford Museum & Nature Center back in the day
7. Stylish -- you have more flair than anyone I know
8. Invested in my development since my babyhood, including exposing me to more experimental pursuits than any other parent I know, including tennis, acting, golf, needlepoint, oceanography, clarinet, guitar, piano, journalism, cartoon art, sculpting, skiing...
9. More intuitive than anyone I know and routinely, you say the kindest thing at just the right time, even to people you've just met
10. Supportive of me unconditionally, for example, though you might have wished I'd have done like you and married a man and had children, you love me actively even though I did neither, including always introducing Pat appropriately when you're acquainting us with your friends.

Deb, you are:

1. The most original person I know, including your continual creation of unique, cool and useful silver and copper Jewish ritual objects
2. Along with Kayla, the most dedicated sister I could wish for, including reading lesbian literature to understand me better
3. A devoted mom, exposing your kids to cultural experiences galore and letting them be who they are, including artists, skateboarders, and Latin and Greek students
4. The person who most informed my music-appreciation other than me, including Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, The Crusaders, Michael Franks, and even Madonna, who you spotted super-early; I acknowledge my debt in this blog entry
5. A great mother-by-proxy, including giving me shampoos via your "Magic Mask" invention when I was little
6. One of our family who showed me Israel at its best, including rowing me down the Yarkon River in Tel Aviv while you had bronchitis when I was 15 and you were 24 -- I hope we didn't know it was bronchitis at the time
7. The world's best birthday-card writer, always including a message that shows your love specifically of me
8. The most adventurous fiction reader I know, including authors from around the world; your example inspires me to be more wide-ranging in my choices
9. A gifted singer with a gorgeous voice, who along with Kayla, always makes me sound better at Pesach Seders
10. Proud of me.

Kayla, you are:

1. The best rhymer I know, including profound and hip poems tailor-made for poetry slams and publications
2. Along with Deb, the most dedicated sister I could wish for, taking care of us whenever we got lost as children, including in the Bowery in New York City when I was five and you were 10 and a half
3. A devoted mom, encouraging Zach to pursue whatever makes him happy, including years of playing the sitar and schlepping him to New Jersey for lessons and buying him his own sitar till he became good enough to be paid for gigs at the nicest Indian restaurant in Brooklyn
4. The person who taught me three essential skills, to:
   • Ride a bike
   • Recite the Ma Nishtana
   • Play Chess
5. My mentor as an educator and you inspired me to pursue a Masters by your example
6. A brave leader who, as a high school principal, leadership consultant and vice-principal, has helped hundreds and hundreds of new immigrants and refugees have a better, more meaningful life in America than they would have had if they had not met you
7. The first person to:
   • Teach me The Facts of Life, when I was seven and you were 12 and a half, while we waited for our school bus
   • Learn of my non-heterosexual sexual orientation, when I was 15 and visiting you at college
8. Our family member who first taught me the value of immersing ourselves in other cultures by living in multiple countries, going to Israel for six months at 14 with our school, and then to Finland for a year on AFS at 17
9. Resilient, surviving cancer while unwaveringly contributing to others' well-being
10. Like Deb, proud of me.

Grief and Gratitude

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Another Reflection on "Joy and Pain, Like Sunshine and Rain"

"Honey, everything's OK, don't you think? Fundamentally?" This is what I'm telling our cat Phoebe as she whimpers/kvetches while zig-zagging around the room.

And it is, thank God. It's also a sad time. Thirty years ago this month, my dad (z"l) died of common bile duct cancer. I keep thinking of him. And then this morning, I open up "The New York Times" to see that my friend Susannah Sheffer's dad (z"l) died on Friday of complications from a stroke. Reading about Mr. Sheffer, I'm 17 again. I went to the designated URL to post a memory:

Zichrono l’vrachah (z”l)/may his memory be for a blessing. The Sheffers were kind to me during the Summer of ’82 by hosting me in their home for three days a week, so that I could serve as an intern at the Museum of Philosophy at Hunter College with their daughter Susannah and other teens.

My father (z”l) who was a toy and game designer, was dying at Columbia-Presbyterian that summer and I needed a distraction. We lived in Stamford and drove in to see him daily. My mom told the museum’s director that I could serve as an intern if he found me a place to stay 3 nights a week. The Sheffers kindly took me in.

Once while at the Sheffers’, I turned Susannah’s radio to WBLS-FM and bobbed my head to “Rapper’s Delight” — R&B, Rap and Funk were also distractions from my dad’s imminent death (Groups like The Clash were more Susannah’s speed). Mrs. Sheffer walked past Susannah’s room and stood there listening, apparently amused and bemused in parallel.

I remain grateful for the Sheffer family’s kindness when I was 17, and am sorry for the loss of Mr. Sheffer; my mom and I know what it’s like to lose a dear, funny, creative husband and father.

This morning, I spent three hours, cleaning up our front-, side- and backyards, raking away dead leaves and mowing grass. I cleared away the dead stuff and enabled what was underneath to breathe more easily. My tidying up the yard was a classic example of humankind, trying to control nature and make it neat.

Nature is not neat. It is super-symmetrical and then wildly jagged, and in any case, not ultimately tameable, but I sure was trying! We wanted to control my dad's (z"l) wellness, too, and couldn't. And we wanted to keep our power during the Sandy storm, but couldn't.

Even as I mourn the loss of my dad (z"l), Mr. Sheffer (z"l) and a number of tree-limbs, I am so grateful for the life I have today, which I like to inventory every so often:

• Pat Hewitt & I have been together for 20 years and married officially for 16 months
• We love our mothers, who are still alive, and our siblings, and niece and nephews
• We have two feline daughters, who delight us, Phoebe and Toonces
• We have close friends
• We live in a well-maintained house in a great town, just 14 miles west of NYC
• Our synagogue is led by gifted rabbis and has lovely congregants
• I love the work I do and mission I have, and the management and company with whom and which I'm affiliated
• I've met some of my closest friends at work
• I'm free to be a corporate activist for LGBT equality for our clients and colleagues
• Social media enable me to express my creativity among new channels
• My employer sent me to India on a 6-month assignment (and Pat was able to accompany me), and it sponsored my Master's, which I earned last May
• My physical and mental health are good
• I feel free to experiment at work
• Art abounds, whether on TV, in films, museums and books, and I relish all of it
• I know how to swim and can find a pool to use nearly everywhere I travel.

I lost my dad too early, but life has continued, and vividly, even so.

It Was a Shame...

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

...but Needn't Be Any Longer

Recently, pre-sleep, I couldn't put down the "New Yorker" article on Tyler Clementi. Even as I felt voyeuristic, reading his various tweets and status updates, and those of his college-roommate Dharun Ravi, included in the piece, I still read on, hoping to confirm the complete rationale for Tyler's suicide. I have to believe it was shame and maybe just a bit too much fragility that caused Tyler to throw himself to his death, off the George Washington Bridge, after Dharun filmed Tyler via his webcam, making out with a man. The article didn't theorize, just reported sad interchanges and facts leading up to it.

To my knowledge, no one ever has ever filmed me, making out with anyone. Still, I have film-clips in my head from my pre-teens to age 20, of fantasies of such scenes, and in one case, of a fizzled kiss. To this day, a number of these scenes cause me shame about my shame, recalling how they wrecked a series of dear friendships due to my embarrassment about them. Fortunately, neither sort of shame has caused me to succeed at, or even attempt, suicide, but they still have the power to bring me to tears as a middle-aged adult, when I think of my vulnerable young self and compare her to the grown-up self who nonetheless still feels a bit vulnerable at the memories. Probably, I've detailed a number of the scenes in previous posts over the years --

Let Me Start Over

Freshman year of high school, 7 months prior...

Do you remember your first experience of unrequited desire? I'm not asking if you remember your first experience of desire. Unrequited is the key word here.

Mine was with a best friend when we were 15. We lay in bathing suits on beach-towels on the wooden deck attached to the back of her family's home. We were nurturing our tans and sucking on ice to keep the heat at bay.

My friend asked me to get some more ice from the kitchen behind us. I sat up and looked over at her, lying on her back, eyes shut against the sun. She had a ballerina's body, full of grace, even while prone, and long chestnut hair tucked over behind one shoulder, calling attention to her swan-length neck. I leaned over, causing a shadow, and kissed her lips quickly. She opened her light-green eyes and looked at me questioningly -- not meanly, and also not encouragingly. I jumped up and bounded for the kitchen, bringing back more ice. We pretended it never happened. I wanted to die, but simply lay back down next to her and closed my eyes for more sun-bathing.

When sophomore year began, we saw less of each other and by the time my dad died during my senior year, we had all but drifted apart. At my father's funeral, my tears were paralyzed. I couldn't grieve visibly. My friend and her mother came over for the shivah and we sat side-by-side on the dark-plum rug in my room, leaning against my bed, trying to act natural, because my father was dead, and also, I was convinced, because she felt nervous around me because of the sun-bathing incident.

I didn't get up to walk her out and simply watched her leave my room. As the door shut, I flopped onto the rug and lay there soaking it with my tears. Finally, I could grieve the loss of my dad, and especially at that moment, the loss of my friend's and my innocent friendship.

Fast forward to yesterday, after lots of grown-up experiences: Five of her kids later, and after residences in Chicago, London, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Bangalore and Montclair between us with our male and female spouses respectively, and in the midst of successful careers, we were together again for the first time in a decade, which is when she last visited the United States.

"I never thought we drifted because of that [-- the kiss]," she said. "I didn't think about that."

"You didn't think about it?" After it happened, it's practically all I thought about, mostly from shame.

"No. I thought that most of all, college was when we had a hard time keeping the friendship going, since we were far away from each other."

All the wasted shame! If I had committed suicide from the shame I felt at the time from my experience with this friend and a couple of others who I fantasized about, I'd never have had the poignant reunions as adults, not to mention, my lovely wife and life. What wouldn't have happened had I not stuck around? I wouldn't have helped other lesbian, gay, bi and transpeople among my community, clients and global company. I wouldn't have found Pat with whom I've had a rich time, including our adopting two feline daughters. I wouldn't have helped our company's leaders to be more effective. I wouldn't have been a comfort to my mom in her old age and who knows what else?

Last summer, reading while tanning my shoulders in prep for my wedding

Makes me want to say the "Shehecheyanu" - the prayer that thanks God for enabling us to reach this occasion:

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ
Blessed are You, L-rd

אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הַעוֹלָם
our G-d, Ruler of the Universe,

שֶׁהֶחֱיָנוּ וְקִיְּמָנוּ
who has granted us life, sustained us

וְהִגִּיעָנוּ לַזְּמַן הַזֶּה׃
and enabled us to reach this occasion.

Amen.

Kvelling on Pride Weekend

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

GLBT Pride and More

This month's theme and celebration inspires me to list what I'm proud of:

• Pat and I have a positive, long-lasting relationship -- 18 years next month
  
• Two summers ago, I agreed to adopt sister-cats, Phoebe and Toonces, not having grown up with pets, and apparently, they love us and are happy in our home
  
• Our nephews and niece are fond of me
  
• My mother, sisters and I are close, and mostly, we let one another be ourselves
  
• My work and most recent schooling is dedicated to helping people learn
  
• I've earned a 4.0 so far, and am two-thirds of the way through a Master's program at Columbia University's Teachers College while working full time...when I didn't even believe I'd be admitted
  
• I am relatively athletic and fit
  
• I blog and am able to express myself openly
  
• Even if it's droll more often than I'd like, I have a good sense of humor
  
• You can count on my honesty
  
• I have color- and style-sense
  
• Healthy eating has been a 20-year commitment so far
  
• Even when my opinions or beliefs are not popular, typically, I speak up
  
• Creativity, enthusiasm and bravery fuel my sense of possibility, which leads to a willingness to experiment and take risks
  
• Pat and I have made a nice home together, which I enjoy living in and walking around.
  

If I Had an Artificial Leg...

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

Thank You, God, for Not Giving Me That Challenge, K'ayn Eyeen Harah

Last night during a walk beyond my neighborhood, I saw a little boy or little girl -- big curls, striped T-shirt, shorts, no more than six years old, running around in the family's driveway, playing catch with a big rubber ball, throwing it back and forth, perhaps, to her mother and grandmother. They spoke French and wouldn't return my smile and eye-contact. They were intent on one another.

As I walked by, I saw the child's left leg, glinting in the pre-twighlight sun. The leg was made up of silver-colored rods. Before I saw the child, running around with an artificial limb, just being a kid, I wondered whether I could muster the mood to take a walk....

On my walk, I listened to my mom tell me her sorrow at one of her dear friend's recent heart-attack. I've never before spoken on a cell-phone during exercise, but it was so beautiful out and I wanted to share what I was seeing with someone, since Pat wasn't with me.

A child with a metal leg; two octogenarians -- one with a damaged heart and the other, heart-broken over her friend's new infirmity; and me, in the middle, witnessing the:

• Eager beagle, running alongside, behind his picket-fence as I passed
  
• Pink-white rose-bush with enough blooms to bury my face in them without risking thorn-pricks
  
• Lithe, high-school girl who nearly smiled at me as she ran by, her blond hair darker on her neck with sweat
  
• Shiny, black, Saturn convertible, rounding the corner and piloted by a balding guy older than I, who seemed to enjoy the breeze through the hair he still had
  
• Hyperactive Pekingese dog straining at me on his leash and his lovely Indian female walker, younger than I, smiling broadly at me for smiling at the cute dog
  
• Professionally-maintained garden of the property next to the also-gorgeous garden maintained by the Master Gardener who lives in the home behind it -- one of Pat's friends
  
• Tiny grass-seed, shaped like thin rice, dotting new dirt on the little boulevard above our street
  
• Beautiful yard of our property, more visibly so as I approached it on foot than when I typically drove toward it, focused on entering the garage....
  

Gratitude

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies.

It's That Time of the Year

I'm feeling especially grateful, thank God, that:

• Pat and I are happy as a couple and essentially healthy
  
• Our mothers are still alive and alert and funny and brilliant
  
• Pat and I feel devoted to our siblings and apparently, vice versa
  
• Our nephews and niece are growing up interestingly and express their love for us
  
• I have a job
  
• My job is stimulating and enables me to experiment with how adults learn
  
• I am healthy enough to exercise regularly
  
• My therapist is good and costs so little thanks to a generous benefit from my employer
  
• This week is a vacation-week
  
• I'm doing really well in grad school and still primarily enjoying it
  
• Our planes were on time and there was not terrible weather for our flights so far
  
• Phoebe and Toonces, the cats, have become our beloved daughters
  
• I have brilliant, loving friends whose friendship I enjoy whenever I avail myself of it
  
• My school-reading is done for the semester and I can read for pleasure solidly from now till January
  
• I feel free to be myself.
  

Yesterday

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

...Passed Relatively Averagely

This might have been the first year, where I didn't reflect in writing on my experience/memories of September 11, 2001 on the day itself. Is eight years later long enough for it not to be top-of-mind? Yes.

Is eight years later long enough for me to have let it go and forgotten it? No. During my commute yesterday, on National Public Radio, a reporter interviewed the author of a book about Port Authority employees who saved several floors' worth of people before dying themselves.

And then at 8ish pm, after my overdue haircut and dinner with my mom in Stamford, we drove past the shopping center, where we stocked up on groceries during that day in 2001 -- once I reached her from New York City, where I was working at the time. As I write this, I can still see the black cloud that was in my rear-view mirror the whole way up Madison Avenue from the IBM building on 57th.

Eight years later, my mom is still alive, thank God, and will be 84 on November 20th, God willing; Pat and I spent six months, living in India for my work -- which had its share of terrorism while we were there; I'm in an altogether different mission at work; I completed most of a Masters program; my partner Pat had successful surgery for pre-cancer in her colon; my sister and mother survived breast cancer; I learned to live with Otosclerosis; I became a blogger and micro-blogger; more of a routine swimmer; reunited with a number of friends due to Facebook; celebrated Pat's achievement of Master Gardener certification, including touring her national-treasure workplace, the Presby Memorial Iris Garden, with her; gave up, trying to give birth to a child; stood by helplessly as a friend's new baby passed away; have seen our nephews and niece, growing up sweetly; adopted two cats who are sisters; so far, thank God, have remained employed during this economic upheaval; paid for nearly half of the 15-year mortgage on our home; went on a Western Caribbean cruise with Pat and friends; went to Israel with my mother on a Hebrew University alumni trip; and Paris; Beijing, Shanghai, Bangkok, Madrid and Rome for work -- and Pat was able to accompany me for the trip to Paris and to one of the trips to Rome; became excited about Web 2.0 and Virtual World environment possibilities in a way I didn't think could top Web 1.0, which I was really excited by from 1995-2001; and more, so...

Life has certainly gone on, since September 11, 2001, and mostly, positively. Thank you, God.

The Future

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

No One Knows It, Happily...

A couple of colleagues hosted a party for our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender employee networking group at their home this afternoon and we drove 90 minutes each way to be there.

What's staying with me is how continuity and change live together; their home was as gorgeous as ever, and still on a beautiful piece of land, but we were struck by some differences since the last time they hosted this event, in the Spring of '06:

1. Two of my long-time colleagues with whom I spent much of the party last time no longer were with IBM -- one because she chose to go to another organization and another because one of her division's projects was discontinued
   
2. Pat and I are kitty-mothers
   
3. Not only was I accepted into the Masters program for which I applied at Columbia University's Teachers College -- which I wondered aloud with one of my colleagues at that 2006 party if I should even apply -- I've completed half of the program so far, going part-time, one course per semester
   
4. My mom has had two breast cancer scares -- one real and one not, and thank God has survived the real bout
   
5. Pat has practically become certified by Rutgers as a Master Gardener
   
6. I'm enjoying a second-wave of technology excitement, like I haven't felt since the mid-late '90s due to Web 2.0 and Virtual World environments
   
7. Pat and I've lived in India for six months and have returned from India.
   

What will happen over the next three years, I wonder, but am glad to discover it as we go.

Our Dayenu 2009

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

Dayenu (It Would Have Been Enough)

If Pat and I had found each other, but we had not sustained a nearly 17-year relationship so far, dayenu.

If we had found each other, and had sustained a nearly 17-year relationship to date, but had not had mothers who had remained healthy into their mid-80s so far, dayenu.

If our mothers had remained healthy into their mid-80s so far, but we had had no siblings, dayenu.

If we had had siblings, but had not been close with them and their families as adults, dayenu.

If we had had siblings and had been close with them and their families as adults, but not had friends we love, dayenu.

If we had had friends we love, but had felt we were not contributing to the world's positive progress, dayenu.

"Dayenu."

Today's Gratitude

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

It's nearly Rosh Hashanah, the time of year when I ought to be doing a spiritual accounting of my past year, and so I'll list that I'm grateful for my:

• Pat, for making me laugh and making delicious meals, and more
  
• Mother's mostly good health and total lucidity at 82
  
• Two (and only) older sisters, who are menschen (in the Yiddish sense of the word, i.e., humane beings/good people)
  
• Sisters' relative health
  
• Sense of humor
  
• YMHA swimming pool, with its good hours and blue-on-blue striped lanes
  
• Radio-access to top pop-music
  
• Funny and kind brothers-in-law
  
• Sweet, and appealing, and talented niece and nephews
  
• Pat's mother's health and love
  
• Pat's nice brother, who calls the plays with her by phone throughout football season
  
• Two cat-sisters, with their green eyes and brown, striped fur, and sometimes-affectionate ways
  
• Apparently restored inner-ear-bone health (kaynahoreh/no evil eye), according to Dr. Brookler at my checkup last week
  
• Friends, who recommended my seeing Dr. Brookler
  
• Friends, who I don't see enough of, but who make me happy whenever I do get to see them
  
• Hundreds of contacts on various social networking sites, who make me feel part of a community
  
• Flowering plant that's sitting on our deck; it was near death and Pat brought it back to life, and now, it has a profusion of big, purple flowers
  
• Spacious, art- and book-filled home
  
• Property full of flowers and trees and a bright green lawn maintained by my resident "lawnologist," Pat
  
• Freedom to experiment and be creative at work
  
• Being stateside for the High Holidays, rather than on our own in India, a country, where Jews are not really on the radar...like we were last year
  
• Having contributed to the launch of an Indian chapter of our GLBT employee network group
  
• Big-screen TV, which enables us to feel like we're at the theater
  
• Opportunity to pursue a Masters degree part-time while working full-time -- to learn continually, and now at the graduate school level.
  

Praying for the Bombing to Stop

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

On Friday morning, Pat heard a quick news item on the radio while I was getting ready for work. "There has been a bombing in Bangalore."

I drove to work and looked for Bangalore-based colleagues and friends on our instant messaging system and found some. All of their families and friends were OK. Then I went on an e-mail writing campaign, sending notes with my prayers for their safety to everyone with whom I worked closely while on assignment there for six months last year.

All of them were safe, thank God.

This morning, I woke up to learn that more bombs went off over the weekend, this time in Ahmedabad, where I have a colleague with whom I worked fairly closely for some months. I've written to him. He's due to come to Armonk in a couple of weeks.

During my assignment, Pat and I were so frustrated by how elaborate a process it was to get a cell-phone number. A representative from the cell phone service provider came to our house to ensure that we really lived there. This rendezvous took weeks and weeks to make happen. We were so annoyed...but it was all about Security, to ensure that we were who we claimed we were. Standard practice.

Just about every day that my driver -- same driver, same vehicle -- pulled into the IBM parking lot on Bannerghatta Road, a Security guard checked the trunk and under the car. I can only imagine the Security precautions now.

It's unnerving to be so far away from there now. And I have assignee's guilt, I think, that I'm not living there permanently -- especially when I think of a couple of colleagues, who are still in India, still on assignment.

It's amazing to have so many people about whom I care if they live or die, who live nine and a half hours ahead of me. When I lived in Jerusalem from July, 1985 to July, 1986, there was a bomb at a Hebrew University campus bus stop and I walked by it after it had happened, on my way to a final exam. What if I had walked by it earlier?

And I was in New York City on September 11th, but uptown, at Madison and 57th. What if I had been at the World Financial Center instead? Early that morning, we had met by phone to discuss a potential project for a client based there, and then I drove into Manhattan, just as the first plane crashed into the first tower; I had a shocking view of the building right after it happened, from across the river, before entering the Lincoln Tunnel....Times like this remind me of times like that.

And we keep going and living our lives until our time is up. I'm reminded to be grateful for whatever time I have left.

100th Blog Entry

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Milestones Matter

I noticed just now that my previous blog entry was #99, and so I wanted to make it 100. Who knew that I'd have the stamina? I guess I did. I love to write and reflect. I was born to blog.

Illness Cured Inspires Gratitude

Cipro is miraculous. It kicked in this afternoon and Pat and I went to dinner at the clubhouse and I had something other than yogurt.

Tomorrow will mark four more months to my short-term foreign service assignment in India.

The Cipro miracle makes me want to list other things I'm grateful for:

• Pat's companionship and witty punditry always, and particularly while we're far from much of what's familiar
  
• The mission I have, to help IBM India leaders at all levels be even more effective through my work here
  
• My management's sponsorship of me in this assignment and in my Masters education
  
• Being able-bodied
  
• Being mentally-well
  
• That people here are most often warm in my experience
  
• That I have a particularly dear friend and colleague here
  
• I'm gaining direct appreciation for more of the world's humanity
  
• Hinduism is on my radar now, where it was remote prior to living here
  
• A colleague was receptive to my coaching on her leadership development facilitation
  
• There's a gorgeous pool close by
  
• "Red Cap" is shown on BBC here...in six minutes
  
• We live in a nice house; my favorite part is walking out the door every morning past the roses and hibiscuses in the garden....
  

India-pendence Day

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Happy Fourth!

Two years ago, I celebrated Thanksgiving by myself -- in an Indian restaurant in Shanghai. Today represents, as some local colleagues would say, an "upgradation" because for this major U.S. holiday, I am not alone.

Pat and I went to the fancier restaurant in the hotel tonight in celebration of the holiday. Again, it was Indian food. Pat is a sport.

We're starting to know some Hindi words: bagh is garden; murgh is chicken; and chollo is slang for let's go/see you later.

A couple of nights ago, a colleague and I learned that both of us blog. We exchanged URLs and today, right before the meeting, she said, "I had a look at your blog."

"Probably more than you ever wanted to know about me...."

"No, that's just what blogs are for...." What a relief. I think there's something ultimately liberating about writing here and sharing a number of the thoughts I have in a given day. Certainly, I felt great when she acknowledged that a blog is for expressing ourselves however we wish.

Hindi Immersion

This morning kicked off the first day of a three-day meeting of the team. We began by interviewing one of our colleagues for a few minutes and then transferring what we learned to a sheet of flip-chart paper, in preparation for introducing the colleague.

We were forbidden to refer to work or to our educational backgrounds, and so we had to describe ourselves in other ways. The son of the colleague I interviewed turned seven today, and the colleague loved Paulo Coehlo's fiction along with the sparkly blue water and white sand of the Maldives.

Among other things, my interviewer learned that I blog -- about what? he asked -- about life experiences; used to go rollerskating in Central Park instead of to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is where my mom thought she was sending me on the train when I was 13 or 14; that I've got a partner of 15 years -- at the end of this month, it'll be -- whose name is Patricia; and that I've got a niece and three nephews, two of whom are identical twins....

My interviewee asked if I wanted her to add her name at the top of the chart, in Hindi.

"Yes, and let's do the whole chart in Hindi!"

She did, and I delivered the introduction by memorizing the order, and speaking English that corresponded with each of the Hindi line items, which felt great.

"Sarah learned Hindi over the weekend!" one of them exclaimed.

My director, who's from China originally, said, "It looks like Hebrew to me!"

And so I asked if my colleague wanted me to write her name in Hebrew and she smiled, Yes. It felt good to know an alphabet other than English characters, since all of them did....It occurred to me to write out all of the line items in Hebrew, too, but I realized that that would be over the top.

One of my other colleagues played cricket on her college team; Pat said that one of her key objectives of this trip is to learn to understand the game of cricket before our return to the States.

Lunch was a special experience: Our manager took us home for a meal cooked by his wife, Sindhu, who has an M.S. in Math and now is studying Library Science. They have two kids, one of whom, at four, already was home from nursery school, and was glued to a Nickelodeon cartoon until his friend came over to play.

Sindhu's cooking was exquisite, and it felt so good to be sitting in a real home, since we're hotel-bound for now. They are Hindu and we took off our shoes before entering their home. I found it ultimately relaxing for an hour in the middle of an extra-full agenda.

Once again, I've nearly fallen asleep at my ThinkPad....

On this Independence Day, I'm grateful that:

• The United States and India no longer are colonies, and are democracies
  
• As two women, we're free to travel, and in my case work, in this country
  
• I am more confident in my ability to contribute than I have ever been
  
• My aspiration to contribute and my contribution both are welcomed
  
• I have people I miss and who miss me while we're here
  
• My writing has this blog outlet.
  

Shabbat Shalom

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Golden Usefulness

Someone I know who survived a grave illness called me for advice today. The person was interviewing for a job, better than any the person had ever before had, and wanted to know if the title of the position sounded appropriate.

"I don't know anyone else in the corporate world," the person said.

"It sounds great," I reassured the person.

"I'm feeling tearful right now....I'm feeling very emotional. Grateful. Remembering that I survived what I survived, and now, having this opportunity, it's --"

I laughed.

"I know you've got to go, and I don't want to keep you, but --"

"No, I'm laughing because recently, I said to you, 'Someday, we'll laugh about all this [i.e., your search for super-meaningful work],' when I should have said --"

"Someday, we'll cry about it!"

"Right."

"That walk you're taking right now to clear your head prior to the interview, let it be a glorious walk. You're in such a wonderful position with your life right now."

"It is glorious."

When is the last time you've been so grateful, it made you cry?